The first time he kissed her, it was a question. It asked "may I" and "is this alright" and "can I still have this."
Can you give back to me.
She should have known better than to answer "yes."
But first it was his lips and then she was in his lap and then he had her laid out on the couch laying kisses on each lonely inch-by-inch of skin that she hadn't let anyone touch for so long, that maybe she'd been saving for him, and his shirt was on the floor in a pile with her dress and then, and then, and then--
He wept in her arms that night in her bed while her fingers moved in slow, consoling circles over the scar on his shoulder too neat and to linear to be a gun shot. In the morning she sat up under the covers while he slept and watched the sun come up.
"If we're going to do this," she told him when he sat up beside her, "we should really do it."
He nodded for a while before his mouth seemed able to say "yeah."
He stayed for breakfast.
He made her lunch.
They went out together for dinner. Spaghetti. An off-menu special of a hole in the wall pizza parlor. Family style.
"Should we do like Lady and the Tramp?" She said.
"Nah," he answered. "That's a mess."
But he smiled imagining it.
***
It took her some time to realize that he was never going to kiss her in public, not because he didn't want to be seen, but for the same reason he couldn't have his back to the door in a restaurant, or sleep out of reach of his pistol.
She remembered daydreaming about a handsome soldier when she was young-- Maybe a marine. Someone with an iron will and a contained, controlled way of living his life that could rub off on her fucked up world and make everything sit right. But Frank was chaos. Frank was insomnia and nightmares and pacing in the living room clutching at his own scalp like maybe he could crack his skull open and take his bullet-pierced brain out and beat it into some kind of submission. He could never sit still, whether it was the twitch in his trigger finger or the movement of his eyes in his head that took everything with it, little twitches of his nose and jerks of his chin. He tapped his foot while he sat in chairs if he didn't ebb in them, a little foreward, a little back, like the tide approaching and then re-thinking the shore. In his sleep he ground his teeth so hard his jaw locked and muffled the sounds of the nightmares.
It took her some time before she had to accept it was getting worse.
***
When Frank got more volatile, Karen told him to call Curtis. He said, "he's not the one. "
"What does that mean, Frank? The one to what?"
"Keeping me down."
"I keep you down?"
"To Earth, yeah. To something, to something real. I can't--"
She wrapped her arms around him but she said it again:
"Talk to Curtis."
Frank stopped going to group.
***
Around the time he started living like he was still in boot camp, up at four in the morning to run until dawn, sweating rivers into her living room thanks to a pull up bar mounted in place of the bedroom door, he got the tattoo. It was a relief, in a way.
It suggested he was holding on to something more than just her.
***
She'd never met "Micro" but she had her suspicions when he knocked on her door. It was the shifty-eyed way he said "uhh, is he here?" Like Frank was still a secret not to be caught talking about and not a pardoned man. Like how a person would talk about buying or selling a weapon.
"What do you want?" She asked past the door chain.
"I found something. I think it might give some closure."
"Found what?"
"A list of buyers. He, uh, seems like he almost got them all."
"Almost?"
"There's a family, a powerful family, that might have trafficked some of Blacksmith's product...can we not talk about this in the hallway?"
Karen said:
"I don't think we should talk about this at all."
Karen said:
"It's done."
Two weeks later Frank was out the door by 3 am, ready to run. His ribs had started to show.
Karen called David Lieberman.
***
The night Frank turned his pistol on himself--just for an instant--was the night she told him. She said:
"Frank, don't do this. You're not done."
"I think I gotta be--"
"I can't let you be done."
He needed something to hold onto that was stronger than her.
***
One morning she woke up and he wasn't there, as usual, but there was a box in bed beside her with a ring inside it, sitting atop a velvet insert that seemed to be swelling out of its container. Underneath was the note, the money: be safe, it said, and a phone number.
The first Gnocci died the next day.
Karen put the ring on a chain.
When he can come back, she told herself. When he can be done. Then I'll put it on.
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My main gift for @raflesia65 from the @aromanceforthedragonages exchange. Trevelyan/Cullen, late-game but vague on specifics.
---
Normally, the Skyhold training grounds were a bustle of activity. Everyone from long-term soldiers to fresh recruits needed practice to keep their skills sharp, after all.
Then there was Cullen's fondness for drills, and Bull's Chargers made use of them sometimes, and the archery range was near-constantly in use by Harding's scouts... So it was a bit of a shock when Diana came 'round the corner to find it nearly empty. A few of the diehards were there; a couple squad leaders, Cassandra, Cullen.
It was the last of these that made a smile pull the corners of her mouth. "No drills today, Commander?"
Cullen laughed and as she drew closer Diana could see a faint sheen of sweat on his skin and lightly dampening his collar. "I need it to dry out a bit more from the week's rain before I want so many feet churning the ground. It would be a shame to injure our forces in training."
"Fair." Diana leaned against the fence. "Much as it would be good for them to be competent in all terrains, you have a point."
"Oh, we've done mud field drlls," Cullen said, joining her at the fence. "I've been thorough, Inquisitor."
She leaned in, letting her hand brush his arm. "Oh, I'm well aware how thorough you are," she murmured, quiet enough to keep it between them.
He still went pink at the ears and gave a bashful scoffing laugh before changing the subject. "Did you come to practice yourself?"
"Mm." The training leathers were lighter than her usual armor, the wooden sword a replica of her blade. The three days' rain had made her antsy, and this was always a good way to burn energy. "But if you're worried about your training grounds..."
Cullen shook his head and gestured toward Cassandra, who was just finishing. "Individual fighters aren't a problem, it's a whole crowd of green recruits who don't know how to keep their footing that concerns me. The last time ended with three black eyes, a broken nose, and a dislocated shoulder."
"Oh, dear. I see the reason for your caution." She ducked through the fence. "I'll do my best not to sustain any such injury."
"It would be most undignified with some of the social engagements on the horizon," Cullen teased lightly. He reach over to smooth a curl that had escaped her bun and his hand lingered on her cheek. "Imagine arriving with a black eye."
"Josephine would have a conniption," Diana agreed. "Hopefully the training dummies don't prove too wily an opponent."
"Would you... like a partner?"
She looked him up and down. "If you think you're up to it. If you've already done your share for the day, I'd hate to push you too far."
Cullen shook his head. "I always stand ready to assist you, Diana," he said softly.
She smiled at the way he said her name, but, "Cullen, that's not what I asked."
"Yes, it is," he countered, the fence creaking as he shifted his weight. "You said if I think I'm up to it, and I do. I hadn't done that much before you arrived," he added. "I promise, I'm not pushing myself too hard."
"Alright." To drag her feet more would be to call him a liar, and this would be more enjoyable with a partner. Particularly him. "Then thank you, that would be most welcome."
He smiled and pushed away from the fence, moving to retrieve a training blade of his own.
The mud squelched under her boots and Diana understood his reluctance to have large numbers of feet making it worse. Keeping their balance would add an extra layer of challenge to a duel. Just what she needed after so long stuck inside.
Cullen took position across from her, sword and shield in hand, stance ready but loose. His blade was one of the generic training swords they stocked for drills, she noted, and wondered if that signaled less familiarity or more adaptability. She'd find out.
"First move is yours, Inquisitor," he said, almost playful, waiting her out.
Diana had too pent-up energy to do anything but take him up on the offer. She lunged forward, feinting left with a last second redirect to the right. "Aside from the delayed drills, how has your day been?"
Cullen deflected her strike but stumbled slightly from how the blade caught the edge of his shield. "Well enough. I used the time to finish some reports, look over patrol routes and the like. With so many days of no drills" --he made a strike she likewise blocked-- "I wanted to see the state of the training rings, and get some exercise while I was at it. So it wasn't a total loss--"
"When you decided you need to wait a little longer for mass drills," Diana finished for him, spinning the practice blade in another swing. The one caught his arm just above the shield and he grunted approval. "You're a man of action" --another swing, this one sidestepped--"I imagine being cooped up wasn't much easier on you than me."
"The company was enjoyable, at least." Cullen gave ground while she pressed her advantage.
"Really?" Diana laughed. Her next two strikes hit his shield, but at least she kept him on the defensive. "With all of Dorian's chess-related scheming, and Sera bored enough for extra devious pranks--"
Cullen lunged forward, his shield crashing against hers. "They are not the company to which I was referring."
She snorted, blushed, and sidestepped the pressure of his shield. "I suspected as much."
He pivoted, skidding in the mud, and barely managed to block her next attack. Swung at her ribs, left vulnerable by the strike.
Oh, damn-- Diana wrenched sideways, avoiding Cullen's blade but unbalancing herself in the process. She yelped as she slid to one knee--surprise more than pain--and quickly pushed back to her feet with mud dripping off her shield and caked on her boots.
"I'm alright," she preemptively assured Cullen, who had backed off rather than press the attack as she'd anticipated.
"Good." He brought his shield back up and re-engaged. "What of you?"
"What of me, what?" She parried a strike, backed him toward the fence.
"How has your day been thus far?" He dodged her attempt to corner him, briefly skidded to one knee, but regained his footing before she could take advantage.
"No complaints, aside from waking up alone," Diana said lightly, giving him a significant look.
Cullen grimaced, face pink from more than exertion. "Apologies. I woke early and wanted to let you sleep. I know you work hard--"
"Headache?" she cut him off, sword clashing on his shield. He didn't answer, which was an answer. It was an easy guess; there had been several of those recently. "I told you to wake me for those, so I can help."
"Nothing helps." He shook his head. "The distraction of working makes it easier to power through" --pushed her back, swung his shield to bash against hers-- "until it fades."
"Cullen--" she spun away from the shield bash, almost fell again.
"It wasn't a bad one, Diana," he said softly, pressing in close as their swords locked. "Just... enough to disrupt sleep. Getting back to your day...?"
She finally freed herself from the deadlock, twisting and pushing with her sword so he was forced to step back to keep the blade in hand. I still want to help with those, you stubborn- "Josephine had things to review for a couple of noble contracts. That took.. a good bit of time."
"Ah, no wonder you're out here now," Cullen chuckled and Diana pulled a face as she dodged the accompanying strike.
It hadn't been that bad. Just a lot of sitting... that... alright, had compounded her existing restlessness. Which was, in part, why she was here.
They went a few more attacks and blocks before Cullen's boot skidded and he landed flat on his back in the mud. Diana leveled the point of her sword at his throat, and he didn't even try.
"I yield," he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before letting them flop back in the mud. She lowered her blade and offered him a hand up. Between the angle and the slippery naure of the ground, however, this resulted in pulling her down rather than him up.
An undignified, face-first splash into the mud was not the ending she'd envisioned for this duel. Not the least because they'd accrued a small audience, but it was what it was. Diana pushed up to sit back on her calves as Cullen levered himself upright. They looked at the mud covering them, then at each other, and burst out laughing simultaneously. Cullen' laugh was a rare thing, if less so now, and Diana treasured every time she got to hear it.
"Well," she said wryly, "I supposed the mud is the true victor here."
"Heh." Cullen shook mud off his arm and gingerly made it to his feet. "I concur." He helped her to her stand, both keeping their footing this time.
"We should probably clean up," Diana sighed. "I don't think Leliana or Josephine would appreciate us arriving at the council meeting like this." A glob of mud fell off her chin to plop on her boot as if in emphasis.
"Of course, I'll see you there." Cullen started to turn away, head for his office.
Diana stopped him with a hand on his arm. "There's more room for a bath in my quarters, which is what I think we both need at this point. I had one of the staff start preparations when I headed out here, figuring I would work up enough of a sweat to need it." She leaned in close so only he could hear, "I don't mind sharing it with you, and I only have one door to worry about locking."
His face colored at her smirk. "Diana..."
"And I think you have at least one clean set of clothes in there, too, yes?"
"I do, but..." His gaze darted to their audience.
Diana followed the look and chuckled. "I think it's fairly common knowledge, whether we've been obvious about it or not. Nothing worth hiding now."
"True enough." Cullen wiped down and stowed the training weapons, gave her a small smile. "After you, Inquisitor."
She laughed at his playing along and ducked out through the fence, leading the way up to her quarters.
---
The lightly scented steam from the bathwater had permeated the air by the time they arrived, and one deep breath had Diana relaxing.
Door locked, stairs ascended, she started stripping of the mud-stained training leathers. Said mud had started to dry in spots, so she was careful to stand in one place--and an easily cleaned one at that--while removing them.
Halfway through, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Cullen. "You don't have to wait for me to be done, love." The leathers were carefully piled for cleaning, and she started tugging off her shirt. It was nothing Cullen hadn't seen before. Many times. She used the shirt to wipe most of the mud off her face and hands as she removed it. "You can go first in the bath."
"What?" Cullen paused with his shirt halfway off. "It was meant for you."
"And I'm sharing it. I'm generous that way." Diana dropped the shirt with her leathers before leaning in to steal a kiss. "Most of the mud on me is in places easily cleaned with a washbasin and towel. You, beloved, have it all up your back and in your hair" --she tugged the belt free of his trousers-- "it makes much more sense for you to use it."
Also, she suspected he rarely indulged in such creature comforts for himself. So if she could spoil him a little, well, that was a bonus.
Cullen gave her a skeptical look and thumbed a bit of mud caked at her hairline. "I don't wish to deprive you of something you were looking forward to, Diana."
She finished sliding his shirt down his arms, since he'd apparently forgotten about undressing, and murmured, "Trust me, I'm not feeling the least bit deprived," against the corner of his mouth as she plopped his shirt with hers on the pile.
Cullen blushed but exhaled in a way that said he was more than happy to play along. "Well, in that case..." He stepped back so they both could remove trousers and boots.
There was an intimacy to this, stripped to their smalls and comfortable with the vulnerability. It was different than when they made love, but Diana found she enjoyed it just as much. She let her gaze roam Cullen's torso; the scars, muscles, light dusting of blond hair. The freckle just about his hip she used as a guide to... sensitive spots.
"Diana?" Cullen prompted when she lingered too long. "Something wrong?"
"Quite the opposite." She shook her head. "I never get tired of seeing you."
He leaned in, thumb skimming her jawline to tip it up for a kiss. "I could say the same."
Diana indulged for a moment before pulling back. "The bath's getting cold," she murmured.
"Maybe I don't care about the bath," he returned, tugging her close again and kissing along her jaw.
"Maybe, but if we get mud on my bedsheets, the staff might revolt. Bath first" --kissed him deeply-- "other activities if we have time before the meeting."
"I wouldn't have offered," she said, patting his cheek. "Go ahead."
With the reassurance, he finished stripping and sank into the tub. From the groan of contentment that escaped him, her sacrifice was a worthwhile one.
"Good?" Diana chuckled.
"Mmm." Cullen sank lower into the heated water.
She dragged over a stool and perched behind him to help wash the mud out of his hair.
He sighed deeply, leaning into her touch even as he mumbled, "You don't have to do that..."
"I know." She leaned foward to kiss his forehead." "I want to. Just enjoy it."
"On your order, Inquisitor," he said drowsily, leaning even more into the way her fingers massaged his scalp. "mmm, headahe's gone..."
"Good," Diana whispered in his ear and didn't stop even when his hair was clean, extending the strokes to his temples.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were quiet breathing and the gentle lap of the water against the sides of the tub.
Then Cullen shifted, catching her wrist and tugging her hand forward to kiss the palm. "Thank you, Diana."
"Of course." She brushed a kiss to his temple. "You deserve to be taken care of, Cullen."
"From time to time?" he clarified wryly.
"Whenever I get the opportunity, love," she said softly. "You do it for me so consistently and in so many different ways. I relish the chance to return the favor."
"Much as I appreciate it" --he kissed her hand again and reluctantly sat up-- "we should probably finish up. The meeting..."
Diana nodded and sighed as she stood to retrieve a towel for him. They could find time for leisure activities after the meeting. If it wasn't such an important planning session, she would say forget it and drag him to bed right now, but alas. With the way things were ramping up... the saying might be no rest for the wicked, but the righteous didn't seem to be getting much of a break, either.
While Cullen dried and dressed, she cleaned the sweat off herself using the washbasin. She had to refill it twice, and was finally getting to the mud she knew lingered on her face when he reappeared in her peripheral. Clean and dry and clad in a dark red shirt and brown pants.
"Allow me to return your generosity, love," he said, holding out a hand for the cloth she was just dipping in the basin. "I can see your face better than you can."
He had a point; even with a mirror this would be easier done by someone else. And she liked the thought of getting to stare at him while he helped. So she nodded, wrung out the cloth, and handed it over.
Cullen leaned close, carefully cleaning along her jaw and neck, behind her ears, the edges of her hairline. Gooseflesh prickled on Diana's arms, and she was fairly certain it wasn't due to cool breezes on bare, damp skin. But she held still and didn't make any comments as he worked.
"There," Cullen said, kissing her forehead and tucking back a stray brown curl.
Diana bit back pointing out she would have to redo her hair anyway. "Thank you, Cullen."
"Of course," he echoed her earlier reply.
She pulled a shaky breath as she stared into those warm brown eyes. She could think of many things she want to do with him right now. None of them involved the damned meeting.
But the Inquisitor's work was never done. So instead she thanked him again, dressed and fixed her hair. Cullen helped with pinning up her braid.
"I don't really want to go to this meeting," he confessed, breath tickling the back of her neck as he slid the last hairpin home.
Diana bit her lip and turned. "Neither do I," she admitted, fingers curling in his shirt. "For, I suspect, the same reason."
He pulled her in for a searing kiss, both getting so lost in it they didn't realize they were moving until his shoulders hit a wall.
"Unfortunately," Diana managed, breathing hard, "Leliana and Joesphine will never, ever, let us hear the end of it if we skip for that."
"Never mind Cassandra," Cullen added wryly.
"So." She snaked a hand around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Deep and sweet like honey, still the smallest tinge of salt from sweat. "After?"
Cullen chuckled and nuzzled his nose against hers. "Inquisitor, I like the way you think."
"So, tough guy," Kira squirmed to sit sort-of sideways in the narrow speeder seat. "Got a question for you."
"Mm," Caspar grunted, his attention focused more on their route to the Jedi Temple, or what was left of it.
She swirled one hand in a gesture at the right side of his face. "Didn't have all that the last time I saw you."
"That's an observation, not a question," he said lightly, fighting the urge to run one hand over the still-tender scars--and then a smirk when she snorted.
"Have an eventful day after Master Kiwiiks and I left Tython?" she asked.
Caspar laughed. "More like an eventful journey to Coruscant, though settling the Flesh Raider problem was hardly boring."
"Yeah, I heard about the stopping a rogue Jedi to save Master Orgus and the Forge, very impressive." Kira grinned. "I wanna know about this eventful journey."
He breathed an internal sigh of relief not having to rehash that mess. Force knew he'd done it enough times in his head already. "An Imperial cruiser attacked the passenger liner I was taking en route to Coruscant. The commanding officer wanted to 'arrest' one of the other passengers, so he captured the whole ship to go after her."
Kira jolted straighter in her seat. "The Esseles? I did hear about that! That was you?!" She punched his shoulder when he nodded. "Geez, Mr. Overachiever, you're gonna make the rest of us look bad."
Caspar chuckled as the speeder touched down. "Not my intention, I promise. The whole reason I was on the Esseles is that it was supposed to be a more relaxed journey and I'd wanted time to... process things from Tython."
Kira threw him a curious look as they climbed out of the speeder. "So are you just the galaxy's unluckiest Jedi, or...?"
He scoffed another quiet laugh. "There's no such thing as luck, Padawan," he said with exaggerated gravity.
"Right, yeah," Kira snorted. "So who roughed you up?"
It was apt phrasing, Caspar thought wryly. The pitted skin tingled with the memory. "A Mandalorian. He'd captured the bridge while we were defending other parts of the ship. He blew up a computer console during our fight." He smirked faintly. "Turns out, fragmented molten hot metal and transparisteel aren't good for your complexion."
"Who knew?" Kira deadpanned, but something akin to respect flickered in her eyes. "Pretty lousy reward for savin' the ship, though."
"Oh, we weren't done," Caspar said, leading the way toward the turbolift indicated on his map. Down to the Temple ruins. Tarnis did have a twisted sense of humor. "I had to get patched up real quick so I could board the Imperial ship and kill the tractor beam. Fortunately nothing much had... stuck, so the med droids could just plaster kolto and synthskin on it and I was more or less good to go."
He had also given the healing process a Force assisted boost on the infiltration flight to Kilran's ship. There was only so much he could do in a few minutes, but it had still helped. It probably wouldn't have scarred so much--if at all--with time to treat it properly. Such were the sacrifices required of a Jedi.
They reached the turbolift and Kira rolled her eyes as she smacked the button. "What, were you the only person on the ship capable of doing anything?"
"No, and some of their forces came along to help." He shrugged. "Passenger liner security forces didn't exactly sign up to fight a grand admiral or whole battalion of soldiers, though." Caspar leaned against the wall of the turbolift as it lurched into motion.
"But you did?"
"Comes with the robes and lightsaber, so yes. In a sense I did."
"Still nice to have backup, though, isn't it?" Kira tapped her fingers against the decorative rail that circled the interior of the lift.
"Well, I can't deny that." He ran his fingers through his hair. "And I did; it just made sense for me to be point. The security forces that came held the hanger while I took care of the tractor beam, which was valuable aid."
"Yeah," Kira conceded. "And that does sound like an eventful trip."
The lift reached the lower level and they stepped out into ruined halls. The destruction was so complete the melancholy briefly distracted Caspar from both their conversation and the search for Tarnis.
"Still can't believe they managed this," he muttered, looking over the cracked and tumbled pillars, the burned tapestries, the roof torn open.
Kira gave him a curious look. "Were you here? When it happened?"
"No." He shook his head and continued his survey. "I'm from Onderon; the hopefuls from there started our training at an enclave on Dalcretti. But... everywhere heard about the Sacking. There were mourning rites, remembrances, lots of meditating on life and death and the Force. To actually see it..." He sighed and looked at her. "Where were we?"
"You saving the Esseles single-handed," she prompted, bumping his shoulder.
"It wasn't single handed--" Caspar protested.
"Just darn close to it," Kira teased.
"I wouldn't want to minimize anyone's contribution," he said, to sidestep further ribbing. "Anyway, there wasn't much more to it; disabled the tractor beam, fought a Sith apprentice, got away." He arched a brow her way. "Your turn."
"My turn, what?" She blinked, caught off-guard to not zero in on fought a Sith.
"What's yours from?" He gestured at the small, faint line cutting across her cheek.
"Oh." Something uneasy rolled through her. "I grew up on Nar Shaddaa. Streets are rough; don't care if you're a kid when a lesson needs to be learned."
"Did you learn it?"
"Yeah." The unease turned to determination. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall, so don't stop trying."
"Mm." The holomap beeped and Caspar followed its guidance, hugging close to the gouged-out walls to avoid clusters of enemies. How did Imperials get here? Did Tarnis sneak them in? "Anything from these lessons that could help us with Tarnis?"
"'Fraid not." Kira kicked a piece of rubble as they passed. "We're gonna have to beat him the old-fashioned way; strength in numbers and makin' him eat lightsaber."
He bit back a laugh; there were too many enemies around. "Sounds simple enough."
"Let's hope so, if he has the power to hide himself as long as he did, I don't think he's gonna be any kind of slouch in a fight."
"You're probably right. This way." He put away the holomap and ducked through a crumbling doorway, running his fingers over the engraved walls. Wish I could have seen this place before. The Sith had scarred the very planet, as well as its people. And now Tarnis was prepared to do even worse to them.
There was a rearguard of Imperial soldiers waiting in the antechamber as they entered. Even having the advantage of numbers didn't help much against the pair of short-on-time Jedi, however, and Caspar and Kira were very quickly through them and heading into the comm room after their target.
Tarnis was puffed up on confidence and his father's goading praise as he attacked in a whirl of crimson saber strikes and crackling electricity. The sparking white of Caspar's lightsaber and steady green of Kira's sprang to life in answer.
We have to shut that off-- Caspar thought as he dodged a coil of lightning and watched the charge light for the Planet Prison begin to glow. He steadied himself and hefted a hunk of rubble with the Force to hurl at Tarnis--and, hopefully, the console behind him.
The Sith moved at the last moment, charging viciously toward Kira, and the jagged rock only caught him a glancing blow. Kira deflected his attacks and Force-pushed him away enough to retreat.
The two of them tag-teamed Tarnis, infuriating him with their refusal to die and moving him away from the console. When the time was right, Caspar flicked a look at Kira, who nodded and dove for the console while he pelted the Sith with debris to claim his whole focus.
Belatedly, at a warning cry from the holo of his father, Tarnis realized their goal, and furiously hurled his lightsaber at Kira while channeling lightning to keep Caspar at bay.
"Kira-!" Caspar hollered, straining from the effort of blocking the attack. His lightsaber crackled and brightened in response to the electric influx.
She punched the final button of the shutdown sequence just as Tarnis' lightsaber gouged her ribs and went flying back to his hand. She cried out and grabbed at the console for balance.
Tarnis brought his lightsaber to bear against Caspar's, his eyes manic in the red-white glow. "It's just you and me, Jedi," he snarled.
"No." Caspar pushed him back, then withdrew, flourishing the blade before ramming it into Tarnis' chest. "Just me."
Tarnis' choked gasp was echoed by his father's scream of rage. "Jedi filth!" the figure howled, looking ready to tear Caspar apart with his bare hands through the holo channel that was supposed to share Tarnis' triumph. "You killed my son!!"
"He had it coming," Caspar retorted, shutting down his lightsaber as he strode to help Kira back to her feet.
"I will destroy you for this!" the Sith ranted, over the promises of an underling to see it done. "You shall suffer greatly! There is nowhere you can hide from Darth Angral!"
"Who said anything about hiding?" Caspar retorted, Kira's arm around his shoulders. "Come find me whenever you'd like."
He backtracked that bravado a moment later, however, when Angral hammered the sure weak point of any Jedi; threatening the ones he protected. He was still promising to rain death and revenge on Republic citizens when the channel cut.
"Well, he's a sore loser," Kira joked between gritted teeth.
"Sith usually are," Caspar deadpanned. "We'll worry about him later. How badly are you hurt?"
"It doesn't tickle," she said, moving the hand that had clenched against her side.
Caspar disengaged from supporting her, letting her lean against the console so he could examine the ragged burn across her ribs. It was good this had been a lightsaber rather than vibroblade or she'd be bleeding out. He opted not to mention that.
"Let's see what I can do..." he mumbled, reaching for the Force.
"You heal, too?" Kira said drolly at the warm golden-green glow. "Too bad Jedi don't marry, you'd be the whole package."
The comment made something pinch in his chest. He grunted a noncommittal reply instead of something suitably witty.
Kira grimaced. "Sorry. The jokes come out when I need distracting."
"Understandable, and I'm flattered." He focused on channeling the healing energy. "All better. Though you do have a new scar for your collection."
"Just what I always wanted," she deadpanned. "Thanks, though. We make a good team."
"We do, and any time, tough stuff." He rolled his shoulders. "Though hopefully not too often."
"Heh, yeah," Kira scoffed, bending to retrieve her fallen dualsaber. She clipped it to her belt and glanced toward the exit. "Much as I'm enjoying the toxic ruins of our Order's home, think we should head back? Update the general?"
"He'd probably like to know we scrapped the Planet Prison, yes," Caspar drawled. "And I'm definitely ready to put this day behind us, it's been..."
"Eventful?" Kira snickered.
"It definitely hasn't been boring." And it was probably wisest to leave it at that.
The part of this that took the most getting used to was group size.
Hawke knew enough about the Anderfels the terrain and the weather were both expected. And she knew it was a long journey. But she was so used to having her friends around. There weere always at least three or four of them easily roped into whatever she was up to.
Fenris and Grizzly as her only company still felt odd.
She wasn't complaining, not exactly. The more... intimate size was nice when she wanted to think. But she did miss the chatter, the laughter, Varric complaining about any terrain that wasn't city streets. Extra hands were also nice for setting camp, though at least they only had one tent.
"Is something bothering you, Hawke?" Fenris asked, after they'd settled in a small biovauc between rocky outcroppings for protection from the wind. And any bandits that might roam.
She shook her head and joined him sitting next to the campfire. "Not bothering, just... it's weird traveling without... everyone around. You know?"
He was quiet a moment, poking the fire with a stick. "Most of my traveling was solitary prior to Kirkwall," he said. "I suppose I'm more accustomed to it..." He didn't point out the three years since Kirkwall, on the move--on the run--for most of it by themselves. "I find I prefer it this way."
Hawke snorted and rested her head on his shoulder. "Quality not quantity for you?"
Fenris chuckled. "Indeed. You and your hound are the finest of company."
She didn't reply at first, just smiled as she stared at the dancing flames. It was nice not having peaceful moments interrupted by bickering or light-hearted debates. After a moment, though, she straightened and looked at him. "I do appreciate you being here, Fenris. It would be an extremely lonely trek to make on my own."
"Of course. I swore an oath to walk into the future at your side." He smoothed loose strands of red-brown hair back behind her ear, mirth glimmering in his eyes. "And Grizzly would have been most put out if denied the chance to accompany you."
"Mm, yes, I'm sure Grizzly would have been the only one sulking," Hawke smirked, lightly cupping the side of his face. "How noble of you to facilitate our reunion."
Grizzly snorted from across the campfire and curled in a tighter ball to sleep.
"It is my very great pleasure," Fenris said sotly, gravely, the mirth lingering as his gaze dropped to her lips.
A gesture she mimicked; she did very much want to kiss him right now.
So she did. She'd never been one to beat around the bush, this was the last place she intended to start.
Fenris gave a soft--mildly surprised--grunt and then his arm was around her waist, tugging insistently until she was halfway into his lap. She moaned into the kiss as she went, fingers raking through his hair to clench at the nape. He responded in kind, knocking loose the hair he'd smoothed earlier.
They were both breathing hard when they parted. Hawke did have to admit it was nice to not have Merrill's giggles or Isabela's wolf whistles as backdrop to kissing the man she loved. A man currently studying her with one brow arched.
"I think I'm coming around to your point of view," she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "This is the perfect group size."
And Fenris chuckled into her mouth as he kissed her back.
Endrali couldn't remember the last time she'd been sick. Truly sick, really sick, the kind you couldn't power through.
Jedi had strong constitutions and ways to nullify disease, and her strong connection to the Force made her even more adept at avoiding 'mundane' illness. Which may have been why it took so long to click.
She thought she was tired from long days with little chance for rest or meditation. Thought the dizziness was from inadvertantly skipping a meal or two. She could remedy both of those after this meeting. While the uptick of discontent had slowed after the events of Umbara, they still popped up. People always wanted to test the powerful, it seemed. What Arcann and Senya learned on Hoth might be important. She needed to pay attention--
"Commander?" Senya's brow was furrowed in concern.
"Sorry." Endrali cleared her throat and rubbed her eyes. "Mind wandered a little."
Now Arcann was looking at her with an expression duplicating his mother's. "Are you alright?"
"Just a little tired, I think," she replied, reaching over to squeeze the edge of his hand. "After we're done and I talk to Lana real quick, I'll take a nap. Promise. What were you saying about the lavaworks?"
The knot in his brow didn't ease, bu Senya accepted the reassurance, speaking of the information saved from the computers, shipment logs for the production, leads to other malcontents.
Brief as the report was, Endrali still struggled to concentrate on it. She was so tired it was making her head feel heavy. Overdid it worse than I thought... she mused, running her hands through her hair as she mulled over the new information. It was sluggish, like that syrup one of the other Padawans had like on his flatcake; thick and reluctant and why was she thinking about that now?
"Alright... if you two want to follow up on these now, you can," she said. She shook her head slightly. "Or if you want to split, take others, I'm sure someone around would help."
Senya nodded, though there was still an edge of concern to her sense. "I'll take care of it, Commander. You... look like you could use that nap."
Endrali sat straighter as she nodded. "After I talk to Lana, I will."
"Endrali..." Arcann lingered, hesitated as his mother left the room. "Are you certain you're alright?"
Another nod, making her head feel sloshy and sluggish again. "Yeah. Just overworked. Promise I'll rest after I talk to Lana." She went to squeeze his hand again, but he twisted so he was holding hers instead.
"You are... quite warm, compared to normal," he informed her, thumb rubbing the heel of her hand.
Part of her smirked at him knowing her baseline temperature, the rest was more interested in protesting the implication. "No, just tired. I'll... I'll be better after rest. I'll talk to Lana and then rest."
"Perhaps resting should come first," Arcann said.
"No, it's fine. It's just talking, Arcann, shouldn't even be a long conversation. I've got this," Endrali insisted. She pushed to her feet.
And the world tipped so sharply, diagonally sideways she would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
"I think rest should be the priority," Arcann said firmly. One arm went around her shoulder and the other slid behind her knees to scoop her up and settle her against his chest.
The instinctive protest she wasn't a baby died before she voiced it. She was tired, her head was muzzy, and it was nice being cradled like this, she had to admit.
They didn't exchange a word as Arcann carried her to her quarters, even thought Endrali was technically awake. It felt like too much effort for her, and for him... well, she could tell he was worried even without him saying anything.
He set her carefully on the bed--ignoring Opi's protest at being dislodged--and reached to slip off her boots.
Endrali batted his hand away. "I'm tired, not an invalid." She offered a smile that didn't seem to do much allieviating his worry. "I can handle it. Go get some rest or food or whatever. Maybe we can spend some time together after I nap."
Arcann nodded, not looking a smidgeon less concerned, and watched her kick off the boots. "Perhaps we can. Do you... Should I have one of the med techs come check you, just in case?"
If he was worried enough to ask, he wanted the answer to be yes. But that seemed like an ovveraction to her just being a little tired. But she hated how worried he looked...
Endrali sighed and flipped up the covers, snuggling in to her pillow. "If it makes you feel better..." she said, trailing off as Opi curled up next to her with a deep rumbling purr.
Arcann nodded, hesitated, then leaned over to kiss her forehead. The gesture made her all warm inside, but she picked up the fresh pulse of concern to his sense.
"Still warm?" Endrali mumbled.
She was asleep before she heard the answer.
---
When she woke she didn't feel nearly as refreshed as she expected, her head may well have weighed a hundred pounds, and the shadows had shifted to a degree that made her think that nap had wound up longer than intended. The blankets were stifling, she pushed them down--
--and immediately shivered so hard she curled in on herself. Okay, bad idea. Blanket back up.
That was when the other presence in the room registered. "Have you been there the whole time?"
"More or less," Arcann said, leaning forward in his chair to brace elbows on knees. "I spoke to the medical staff and they said to let you sleep and comm when you woke."
"So you just stayed?" There was a croaking edge to her voice she didn't like. Maybe he was right; this was more than exhaustion.
"I have no pressing demands on my time, Endrali," he pointed out. "And... I cannot help but worry."
"I'm sure it's nothing serious," she insisted. "...even if it is more than just exhaustion."
Arcann's brow twitched at her conceding even that much. "I suppose we can find out soon enough."
Endrali didn't have the energy to argue, and her bed was so very comfortable. "Mm."
It only took a few minutes for one of the medstaff to arrive, whether they'd been waiting to the summons or this was a perk of being in charge Endrali was too cotton-brained to wonder. All she cared about was the rangy orange-skinned twi'lek had a decent beside manner without being too chatty and seemed to know wht she was doing.
"Csillan fever," was the diagnosis, somewhat easily obtained between tallying symtpoms and the diagnostic scanner. Far from life-threatening, but a sure way to spend a few days laid up. The only unique thing about this strain, compared to other similar variants, was that being native to Csilla meant it only affected Chiss.
"Where did I pick that up?"!" Endrali croaked, now sitting up with knees tented and Kyber wedged in her lap. "I haven't set foot near Chiss space since I was four, let alone on Csilla." Never mind she didn't know which planet her family had lived on before giving her up--she might never have set foot on Csilla. "When would--" she cut herself off, looking at Arcann. "The defectors."
She saw and sensed the pieces click in his mind. "The only reasonable assumption, I think."
"You think you know the point of contact?" the medtech asked, fiddling with the scanner.
Endrali nodded, which was a bad idea. It made her headd swim. Euch. "A few days, maybe a week ago, we helped some Chiss Imperial defectors move through Coreward space undetected. A couple of them seemed... under the weather, but I marked it up to stress from what they were doing."
"That timeline would match the incubation period," the medtech said, nodding. "Are any of them stil on-base?"
Endrali shook her head--also a bad idea. "I was just helping them move along; the whole reason for defecting was not wanting to fight anymore. They never set foot on Odessen."
"So you're the only one I need to worry aout." It was murmured almost half to herself but Endrali hummed confirmation anyway. "That'll simplify it. Rest in bed, drink plenty and eat if you feel hungry, and there's medication I can send that will help lessen symptoms and generally speed up recovery."
"I like the sound of that," Endrali croaked.
"I'll get that right up," the medtech promised with a sympathetic smile. "Feel better soon, Commander."
"Thank you." it came out more pathetic thn intended, and embarrassment, not illness, heated her face.
The medtech nodded, slipped the scanner back on its belt hook, and left the room.
"See, I told you it wasn't bad," Endrali said, flopping back on the pillow. Kyber croaked protest and butted under her hand. She sluggishly scratched his ear nubs.
"Endrali, it hardly sounds good that you will be ill several days," Arcann said dryly. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed.
"It's not gonna kill me or anything, though," she said, then narrowed her eyes at him. "What are my odds of getting you to stop fussing and go about your business?"
"Extremely low," he replied. "They would be regardless, but knowing you aren't contagious... I have no 'business' beyond doing as you need."
"And if I said I need you to run down one of those leads you and Senya found at the lavaworks more than I need you sitting here to fuss over me?" (though the fussing was nice, she did have to admit.)
Arcann gave her a frustrated look. "Endrali."
"Arcann." She squeezed his hand. "I'm not dying, I'll just be miserable and pouty and prob'ly sleep a lot the next few days. Don't really need a nursemaid for that." Her thumb rubbed the edge of his hand. "I'm down an advisor and there's lots of people who think the galaxy would be better off without the Alliance. It would mean more to me if you help protect it while I can't."
She felt the 'That's not fair' he bit back before giving a deep sigh. "If that is truly what you wish."
"I like your company, it isn't that," she promised. "And I'm glad I can't get you sick. There's just... so much to do, and it's worse with Theron gone, and of course now would be the first time in fiftee-- twenty years I get sick sick--" Her voice wobbled and gave out, which made her sound even more pathetic when she croaked, "I hate not being able to do anything."
Arcann smiled sympathetically and brushed sweat-damp hair from her face. "I'll take care of it."
Endrali squeezed his hand. "Thank you."
He held her hand a moment longer, his thumb rubbing gloriously cool arcs against her skin. "I hope you will be on the road to recovery upon my return."
"Yeah, me too," Endrali mumbled hoarsely, and was drifting to sleep again before he left to room. She would have liked to tell him to be safe.
---
She woke to the sunrise, which was wildly disconcerting to her fevered brain.
Sitting up felt like fighting through tar or slow-setting carbonite or something, but she still did it to look around the room. Opila and Kyber were sleeping on the foot of the bed, there was a squat, square bottle of orangey-green liquid on the nightstand that hadn't been there before--the medicine, she assumed--and a familiar presence radiated from just outside the bedroom.
"Senya?" She was very proud her voice didn't sound half bad.
The woman unfolded herself from her meditative pose and smiled as she entered. "Good to see you truly awake."
Endrali arched her brows. "Truly?"
"You roused enough to drink something a couple times during the evening, but didn't even seem to register I was here."
She wrinkled her nose. "Sorry if I was rude."
Senya shook her head. "Just tired."
"Mm." Se stared at her knees a moment, her thoughts fascinated by the weave of the blanket, then forced it back up. "Did Arcann ask you to sit with me?"
Senya nodded.
"When did he leave?"
"Perhaps an hour or two after you fell asleep. Were you hungry, Commander?" Senya tapped the top of a thermal retention canister. "The kitchens sent up soup, if you'd like some."
She was a bit hungry, in the vague, distant sense of the word. But that could wait; her brain was stuck on a different concern right now.
"Senya? If you're watching me, who's watching his back?"
"Your Trandoshan friend, I believe." Senya smiled. "Qyzen? He said something about protecting the Herald's mate that Arcann was too distracted to catch."
But not you. Endrali wished she could blame the heat of her face on the fever, but was pretty sure this had a different cause. Awfully unfair of the galaxy to throw this at her while she was sick. "Well, distracted's not good," she muttered, trying to make her brain work between illness and embarrassment. "Distracted could get one of them hurt."
"I'm sure they'll be fine, Commander," Senya said reassuringly. "And that he'll be more focused by the time they reach Coruscant."
Coruscant. So that was Captain Kallin, the disillusioned Republic soldier, angry at the Alliance for... reasons she couldn't remember. Not with her head all full of cotton. She eyed the medicine. Maybe a good idea... "I hope so; the Works are a nightmare when you're paying attention, and a deathtrap if you aren't." Qyzen knew what he was doing, even if Arcann was distracted, but that was small comfort. Nothing to be done from here, though. "Do you know what kind of soup....?"
Senya laughed and unscrewed the canister lid. "Something with noodles and not a lot of seasoning. It does smell good, though."
After a small bowl of soup and dose of medicine--which tasted citrus-y but fake--Endrali burrowed back down in the blankets to sleep more. Hopefully she could knock this down quick; she hated not doing her job.
---
Sunset was teasing the sky when next she stirred and found Opi sleeping on top of her. No wonder I'm so hot. She rolled over gently, trying to dislodge the loth-kitten without being rude about it, and looked for Senya. She could sense her--meditating, out on the balcony, and no one else in the room.
That woke her up a bit, and she reached further through the Force, feeling for a pair of presences she knew almost better than her own. She came up empty.
Frowning now, Endrali sat up, feeling briefly guilty about Opi's mroaw of protest at being unseated. "Senya?"
"Yes, Commander?" the words slightly preceded the woman.
"Are they back?"
Senya shook her head. "I haven't heard as much."
"Shouldn't they be? Do you think something went--"
Senya put a hand on her shoulder. "Endrali, it's only a couple hours past best estimate for their time. Even a small complication could add this much. Both my son and your friend are skilled fighters, give it more time before worrying."
Normally that would be much more easily followed advice, but something about being sick was making her anxious. She didn't voice it, just sat picking at the covers and reaching to sense Arcann or Qyzen through the Force. Her concentration was off with being sick, and it was hard to hunt down specific people--especially off-planet--when her head felt three times its normal weight.
She flopped back with a discontented huff and stared at the ceiling, mentally grumbling again about the timing of getting sick. But there wasn't anything she could do, and Senya was right; it hadn't been that long. She should trust them to handle whatever was going on.
---
Endrali dozed fitfully after that, never fully able to drift off but never awake enough to be cognizant of the time. Not until Senya nudged her to eat some more. The soup was still warm, and stars just beginning to sprinkle the edge of the horizon.
"They are returning," Senya said, before she could ask. "Arcann wanted to know how you were doing. They both expressed intent to check on you upon return."
That was... touchng. And promising. They were both alive, and on their way back. Between the update, the soup, and having already done an absurd amount of sleeping, Endrali shifted the pillows to support sitting up and reached for her datapad.
"Not working," she said, sensing a flicker of protest from Senya. "I was only half-done that archaelogical treatise Talos sent me. I wanna finish it."
That earned her a skeptical look.
"This is one of my hobbies," Endrali promised. "Flowers and old things are what I do for fun." And collect lightsaber crystals. "I'm just reading. Did you hear how the mission went?"
Senya hesitated a beat too long answering. "There... were complications, but they're both fine and succeeded in stopping the rogue captain. And like I said, they plan to see you when they return."
"Right, right, I know." Endrali fidgeted with the datapad, only half reading the treatise now that the word 'complications' was in her head. Hurry back, you two."
---
Qyzen made it up to her room first, and it was immediately apparent 'complications' was underselling whatever happened, because he was missing a hand.
Endrali tossed aside the datapad and practically launched herself out of bed, fever or no. "Qyzen--!"
He held up his remaining hand to stop her. [Will regrow, Herald,] he reminded, and that settled her, at least for the moment. Their converation about his hunt in the Kashyyyk Shadowlands was so long ago, she had half-forgotten. [Maybe slow, as am old now,] he amended, examining the stump of his wrist, [but will be well in time.]
""Good." Endrali couldn't help a pang of guilt as she followed his gaze. "How bad was it, for you to lose a hand?!"
Qyzen gave her a measuring look with his good eye, the ones that made her believe he was wiser than he thought himself to be. [Mate Arcann is well] he said, answering the implied question rather than what she'd asked. [Made certain of that.]
The implication of the second half distracted her from clarifying protest about the word at the beginning of the first.
"Made certain," she repeated. "Qyzen, did that" --a nod to his wrist-- "happen protecting Arcann?"
[This from cthon] Qyzen said [large, fierce prey, worth many points. Would have fought anyway.]
So that's a yes. Endrali shifted, pulling her legs up crisscross underneath her. "Well, thank you. For keeping him safe."
[Is owed to Herald.] Qyzen said with a nod. [And not hard; Mate Arcann is mighty warrior, earned many points. See now why you chose.]
Alright, two times, pluse Senya's earlier mentioning of a comment, needed correcting. "Qyzen, he's not my mate. Not in the way you mean it." Super unfair of the universe to make her have this conversation while sick.
Qyzen cocked his head and waited.
Endrali sighed, chewing her lower lip in thought. "He is special to me, and I care about him, deeply, so I appreciate you watching his back as you do mine. But we're...." Another sigh. "Many cultures have a period, whether they call courting or something else, where you find someone special, someone who could be a good mate, and spend time getting closer with them. To be sure the two of you are a good match before you bond." She was making a mess of this, but it wasn't as if the Jedi Order had been big on relationshp advice.
Qyzen was quiet, waiting for her to continue.
Really unfair. "Even though I care about" --love-- "him a lot, we aren't quite that far yet. So, for now, he's just Arcann." She flashed Qyzen a smile. "But he means a lot to me, so, again, thank you for helping him."
[Is great honor, Herald.] Qyzen nodded. [Happy to help.] He paused. [Will let you rest, look pale.]
Endrali wrinkled her nose. Ugh. "Thanks. I'm glad you're alright. Mostly." A last glance at where his hand should be. Won't be sending him out again 'til that heals.
Qyzen bowed and left.
Arcann entered so closely after they must've passed each other in the hall.
"Are you feeling any better?" he asked before the door hd fully losed.
"Maybe a little? I still feel... bleh" --she pulled a face--"but given how much I slept today at least I'm not tired."
"That is good to hear." Arcann strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Your mother took good care of me, and I hear Qyzen took good care of you," Endrali said lightly, though this close she could see the scrapes on his unscarred cheek and further bck, and the hint of medseal peeking out his sleeve.
He nodded. "Yes. He was... quite adamant. He's a fine warrior, your friend."
"Heh, he said the same about you."
A smile twitched his lips. "I'm honored by such praise."
"So what happened, that it took so long and you both got injured?" She had to ask.
"Captain Kallin knew how to use the Works to his advantage and had found... many who agreed with him," Arcann said slowly, parsing his words. "And augmented those forces with droids and tamed beasts."
"Cthon, yes. There's been a bit of an infestation down in the Works for decades," Endrali sai. She pursed her lips. "They're feral, usually, but training them would be smart, even if just enough to attack certain people..."
"I believe that is what he did; the cthons didn't seem to follow any commands beyond attacking us and not his people. The captain... slipped away while we were fighting the biggest of the beasts and we had to pursue him further." Arcan paused, rubbed the back of his neck. "Quite the ferocious warrior in his own right, once cornered."
"People with causes usually are. But you still vanquished him," Endrali said with a smile. She shivered at a breeze and worked her way partially back under the covers.
"We did." Arcann helped her with the blanket. He let his fingers very deliberately brush her forehead as he tucked her hair back. "You, however, still seem to be in the throes of battle with your fever."
"It'll pass," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly and pressing her fingers to the lids. "I'm resting and I'm taking my medicine, and I just... I hate being sick, Arcann. It hasn't happened this seriously in a long, long time. I don't like not being able to help, especially while others are out there getting hurt doing my--"
"You do more than enough," Arcann cut her off, gently. He cradled her jaw, tipped her chin up so she'd look at him. "Let us help."
Let me help.
Endrali sighed, subconsciously leaning into his touch. He was so cool, it felt so good. She was honestly (embarrassingly) tempted to grab his cybernetic hand and hold it to her forehead; she'd bet that would feel even better. "The Alliance is my responsibility." And stars knew how this fever was nothing compared to the crushing weight of the shielded masters.
"Leading it is." Arcann's thumb stroked her cheek. "But I would say protecting it is the duty of all who join."
She wrinkled her nose. "My brain's not working well 'nough to argue," she grumbled. "Much as I want to."
He chuckled, leaning closer to whisper, "Does this mean I win?"
"For now," she conceded, the shift making her fixate on how close they were sitting. How easy it would be to steal a kiss, even though she shouldn't. But she wanted to.
"Endrali..." Arcann murmured, and her gaze locked with his in silent prompting. "Could... I want..." His thumb grazed the edge of her lower lip, hinting at his intent.
Good to know they were on the same wavelength. "We shouldn't, I'm sick."
"I cannot catch it." He leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching.
"I'll taste like fakey citrus medicine," she warned, even as she tilted her chin up. If he was sure of taking the chance, he was going to know all the risks first.
"I believe I can endure," Arcann said with soft amusement, a rough edge creeping in to his voice.
But they were denied the opportunity to test that. The door slid open, the medtech stepping in. Fortunately her attention was on her datapad as she entered, giving them a moment to pull apart before she asked, "How're you feeling, Comm--" She winced, skin going darker orange. "Sorry! I didn't realize you had, um, company."
"It's alright." Arcann stood, "I should let her rest."
Endrali wanted to scream at the unfairness of the interruption's timing, but he was probably right. And the lethargy response to all her company hit as the medtech was checking her over, so she snuggled down in the bed.
She still wished she'd gotten that kiss before he left. So unfair.
One more thing to hate about being sick.
--
the stuff with Qyzen is from his conversations during class story; if you say he's lucky he didn't lose an arm/leg on the Shadowlands hunt, he says Trandoshan limbs grow back. Real fun implication there. AND he says it's rare for Trandoshans to make it past fifty, and he's 32 or 33 in Act 2 of the class story so it's been at least... 8 or 9 years since then.
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Taking advantage of ~time zones~ to post this technically-still-Sunday bc it's Monday somewhere by now. :3
Trinne(mine)/Harvey(errantgoat)
---
This visit to Castle Cousland was stretching long enough for Trinne to familiarize herself with the hallways. (when she stopped sulking in the bedroom, anyway) Enough she didn't fully pay attention when she walked around, getting lost in thought and humming under her breath. Following instinct and impulse to the kitchens, or up on the walls, or-
She paused as she passed the library, a blur of dark hair catching her attention. Harvey was sitting on the short sofa by the fireplace reading a letter.
Half of the emotions rising in her chest at the sight of him were brand and shiny new. Trinne smiled and bit her lip and altered course. It wasn't like she'd been heading anywhere in particular. And while it wasn't a rarity, it wasn't exactly common to find him here. Might as well take advantage.
She crossed the room to sit on the arm of the sofa--" 'Zat from your brother?"--and kissed his temple.
Harvey started; must've been a really engrossing letter. She couldn't remember the last time she'd snuck up on him. (Had she ever?) "What was that for?"
"'Cause I felt like it." she shrugged. His expression was adorable. Not quite perplexed, but she'd definitely caught him off-guard. "I'm good at that."
"Yes, I know," Harvey deadpanned.
Trinne snickered at his tone, but he really did know and had fallen in love with her anyway. That was enough of a miracle she leaned over--precariously balanced--to kiss him proper.
"And again," she teased, hauling herself back upright with some effort, which she tried to disguise.
He'd folded the letter and tucked it between the sofa cushion and arm when she pulled back. "Bored today?"
"Nah, just wanted to stretch my legs. I've been readin' for hours, time for a break. How're the woods?"
Harvey huffed laugh. "The woods are fine. Same as usual." He surveyed her position balanced on the arm. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to sit on the furniture properly?" he drawled.
"Maybe. Probably." Trinne shrugged. "This is more fun-"
She lost her balance as she leaned over again and yelped, executing a frankly impressive--for her--feat of acrobatics to keep from banging their heads together. She did still feel her elbow graze his ribs as she tumbled onto the unoccupied half of the sofa.
"You were saying...?" Harvey's tone was bone dry, but she could see him fighting a smile.
"Yeah, yeah." She scrambled upright. "Maybe you're right, this is better." An impish grin as she hooked her fingers in his collar and tugged him over for a kiss. He kissed back more emphatically on this one, shifting to brace one hand against the sofa and slide the other into her hair. As if convinced of her impatience, or embracing the distraction of it, or just happy to oblige.
Trinne was so intent on the kiss she forgot about the letter, and didn't notice its seal was not laurels, but a griffon.
#55 "tracing the lines on the other’s hand" for Vesper x Kurt?
hehehe thank you! Any chance to write these two being mushy is a good thing <3 ~650 words
---
It was still an adjustment waking up not-alone.
In a good way. A glorious, wonderful way that made warmth ball in her chest; the weight of his arm draped over her waist, her toes curling against her calf.
"Morning, Green Blood." His voice in her ear, low and rough.
Vesper smiled and wriggled back further into his embrace. "Morning. How long have you been awake?"
"Not very," Kurt murmured, though it had been long enough all trace of sleep was gone from his voice. His fingers traced lazy circles around her navel that made Vesper bite her lip. "I am willin' to have a slow start every once in a while."
"Mm, lucky me, then." She rested her hand over his, running her fingers in loops around his knuckles. lingered over a faint scar between two of them. "I suppose we don't have anything pressing this morning, do we?"
"Not in the morning, no." He kisses behind her ears. "I think you mentioned a meeting or a tea or something later, though."
"Mm, tea with Lady Morange." She traced the outline of his thumb, then along each finger. "But that's not 'til much later; we have plenty of time. You don't have drills to run or anything?"
"Always," Kurt snorted softly at her teasing tone. "One of the lieutenants'll handle them if I'm not there."
"Ah, I see." She fought a smile at the thought he'd prepared for such a circumstance, then shifted. Much as she was enjoying this position, she had a crick starting. Vesper sat up, remains of her haphazard braid falling over her shuolder, and rubbed her neck.
"Done already, Green Blood?" Kurt teased in turn.
"Perish the thought," she retorted, tugging his arms until he sat up as well. "I just want a different arrangement..." She shoved the pillows more against the headboard as she spoke.
He caught the intent and tugged her close to snuggle as he settled against the rearranged pillow. His arm around her waist. Her head on his shoulder. Perfect.
"I thought I was the creaky old one." Murmured into her hair.
"You aren't, and unfortunately neck cricks don't care how old you are." His hand lay in her lap and she idly traced a finger up the Y-line of his palm, then back and forth along the ones above it.
"No, I suppose not." A beat. "They only care how many nights you fall asleep at your desk."
"That has only happened once in the past two weeks and you know it, good Captain," Vesper retorted lightly, earning a chuckle. Her thumb ran back and forth--equally light--over the higher line across his palm. "I've had such an enticing incentive to come to bed, you know."
"Flattering, but we both know you were good at keepin' work to a proper place and time even before."
"True as that may be," back down the Y-line, trying not to look at a scar on his wrist, a burn she suspected wasn't from combat. "knowing I'll have you for company is a very persuasive case for turning in at a reasonable time."
Kurt was quiet, just a faint catch to his breathing at the lines she was drawing on his hand.
"Too much?" Vesper asked softly.
He wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist and kissed the top of her head. "Just not used to havin' my praises sung."
"I know." She tugged his hand up to kiss the fingertips. "i'm sorry if it's coming on strong, but I happen to think you're every bit the wonder you believe me to be. I'm making up for lost time the rest of the world didn't acknowledge that."
"Then I suppose I'll adjust," Kurt said after a moment, voice thick. "But only if you let me return the favor."
"Your terms are acceptable," Vesper said, and tipped her hands back for a proper kiss.
For @glamfellens in the @secret-st-waidwen-exchange here's 2.1k ofTarren and my fervent hopes I wrote her correctly! She seems like a very neat Watcher. <3
---
Tarren circled the tree, staring up at the apples that burdened the branches, trying to work out a way to get some. Even the lowest branches were too high to reach, there were no walls or hay bales or anything to climb on... Finally she reached the inevitable conclusion.
She wrapped her arms around the tree and rocked. Continued shaking until a half dozen apples had tumbled down. She scuttled around to collect them, hoping none were bruised. Shaking was not a preferred method of apple retrieval because of that risk, but she'd promised the other children, and in a pinch.... Well. It wasn't forbidden. Just not the first choice.
Prizes gathered in hand, Tarren hurried to where the others waited for her.
"You were quite invested today, Tarren," Mestre Tallazzo said as Sofia and Belizzi left the room. "You are always a good student, but it seemed even more important today. Have a particular interest in the founding era, do you?"
"That is what my paper is about," Tarren said. She hugged her books to her chest. "And it's so long ago I'm having trouble finding information. I've been to the library," she added hastily, "I haven't had much luck there so far."
"Hmm." Mestre Tallazzo stroke his goatee and studied her. "Tarren, when you want fruit that is high up a tree, what do you do?"
She blinked at the subject change but answered dutifully, "You climb up to where you can reach it."
His dark eyes twinkled. "And if there are no branches in reach?"
Tarren was beginning to wonder if he'd seen her apple picking. "You shake the tree."
"So it must be in life sometimes as well; you must 'shake the tree' to get or learn what you need."
She cocked her head. "The bookshelves are built into the wall, and I think if I shook the books off, they'd hurt, anyway."
Tarren chewed her lower lip. "I thought I was supposed to do all the research and writing on my own, Mstre Tallazzo."
"Yes, but asking someone to point you in the direction of the research materials is allowed," he chuckled. "I apologize if I made it seem otherwise." He patted her back. "You are allowed to ask for help when you need it, Tarren."
She nodded, relieved and perhps a little confused at the gravitas he gave the words. "Thank you, mestre. I'm going to work on my paper, now."
"And I'm sure it will be marvellous," Mestre Tallazzo said with a grin, gesturing broadly toward th door. "I cannot wait to read it."
Bolstered by his assurance and confidence, Tarren scurried from the room toward the library. Surely one of the stewards could help her 'shake the tree' as he'd suggested.
---
Tarren endured the sensation of eyes on her back for a full five minutes before turning to seek out the source. There were only a few other kith in the room; it shouldn't be hard to find someone staring at her.
Ah. One of Sofia's friends had blathered about Tarren's cipher abilities around her inner circle or maidservants and now a curious soul wanted to see for herself. Tarren wondered absently what had made the subject come up between Sofia and Allandra in the first place.
Tarren dipped her chin in a nod. Best to be accommodating to anyone associated with Allandra, she was one of Sofia's closest confidants, And she'd been courteous in the asking. "What's your name?"
"Benicia."
"Is there a particular answer you seek, Benicia, or just a general inquiry if something is... amiss?"
"Mostly if the disquiet is tied to the future or the past, I suppose." Benicia nibbled at her lower lip. "So I know if the issue is my soul or if there is, perhaps some danger to warn Lady Allandra about, ac?"
Tarren nodded. She could understand the concern. "Is there... anything in the works that could be a danger to her?" she asked. "For you to think this is potentially a premonition?"
"Her family is working on a trade agreement with the DiBellos, which is a secret," Benicia said in hushed, meaningful tones.
Another nod from Tarren. It was the way of Old Vailia's families. "I'll not speak a word." She could already sense faint turmoil even without trying. "Do you think it's merely the screcy? Or that the DiBellos will attempt something underhanded?"
"I don't know." Benicia made a helpless gesture. "That's why I asked for... for a reading. Perhaps this is just my soul, which is my own problem, but would be no concern of my lady."
"Right." Tarren extended a hand, hovering just over Benicia's forearm. "May I?" She didn't really need to ask; her abilities were strong enough to search the girl's soul with neither permission nor contact. But she strove not to use them like that.
Benicia extended her arm further. "Of course."
Souls were slippery things, ciphers simply more adept at pinning them under their searches. But Benicia's all but leapt at Tarren's probing, as if it wished to unburden itself of some terrible confession. She--obliging but careful--dove right in.
Tarren carefully withdrew from the past life so as not to Awaken it. She hesitated before fully disentangling from Benicia's soul. There were some more... surface thoughts about the arrangement she could read without getting too intrusive. Given her promise of secrecy, she wasn't sure how useful it would be, even if it didn't give her pause.
Before she'd finished her grapple with morality, two of the thoughts unbidden slithered into her mind.
'I hope he treats her well.'
'DiBello needs this more than we do.'
Deciding that was enough, Tarren fully retreated from Benicia's soul and offered her a reassuring smile as she relayed the results of the reading. "Your past life is fretting over outdated information, there is no need for concern."
"Agricima!" Benicia effused, giving her hand a grateful squeeze as she stepped back. "Perhaps I will sleep tonight."
"Happy to help," Tarren said with a polite smile, and excused herself. She didn't think this was what Mestre Tallazzo had meant by 'shake the tree' but she'd picked up some interesting tidbits all the same.
---
"Tarren, there you are!" Sofia rounded the corner with sparkling eyes and a mischievous step. "You'll never guess what I learned today!"
Tarren smiled and tuck away the sermon pamphlet she'd bee reading. "Well, then, you can just tell me." She and Sofia often differed on what was important or worth getting excited about; she might genuinely never guess.
Sofia's lips pursed in a mock-pout. "Oh, you're no fun sometimes."
Tarren shrugged, still smiling. "Saves time."
"Can't argue with that. Alright," Sofia giggled. "Inez has things arranged so she inherits control of her family's holdings when her mother passes."
Tarren's brows arched toward her hairline. "How in Cirono's name did she manage that? Aren't her sisters expecting an even split?"
"They are," Sofia confirmed gleefully, tugging Tarren's elbow so they could both sit on a divan. "She has been quite canny, you see. They shall inherit their shares of the Caledre-owned businesses, however--" her eyes sparkled-- "Inez has her own businesses, which own business, and those own larger investment shares than the Caledres will hold after it splits between her sisters in most all of their holdings. If they consolidate their fortunes and sacrifice shares in other holdings, her sisters may be able to prise one of the shipping ventures from her, but as it stands, Inez Caledre is on the precipice of being a very wealthy woman. Especially with the ducesa in such poor health, Cirono guide her."
The machinations made Tarren's head spin. She truly never would have guessed all this. "Her sisters don't suspect any of this?"
Sofia shook her head. "Not a whisper," she said. "And with their mother in such a bad way, she likely will not have to hide it much longer."
"And how did you learn about it?" Tarren asked, rearranging the pleats of her skirt to hide how disturbed she was at the lengths the youngest Caledre had gone to ensure she became the most powerful.
"Inez and I are friends, Tarren, we talk," Sofia said with a toss of her head, making her earrings glitter as they caught the light. "I asked the right kith the right questions to fill the gaps. Shook the tree, as it were," she grinned.
Tarren shook her head. Poor Mestre Tallazzo had no idea the ways we were going to mangle that saying. "Does Inez know you're wise to her, Sofia?"
"She know I know some of it; she told me herself." Sofia shrugged. "She also knows I'm impressed and she can consider me a supporter, ac?"
There it was. Tarren bit her lip. "Be careful. You know how quickly these games can turn on you."
Sofia smiled and patted her arm. "Agricima, Tarren, but it is how things go here. I'm forging an alliance for my house, and one this powerful comes with some risk in the forming."
"I know that," Tarren said, "We've just seen so many Houses fall to such manuevers going sour. I'd hate to see you join them."
"We're fine," Sofia promised, squeezing her arm, then blanched. "Ay, is that the time?! I'm late for tea with mother--"
She was gone in a flurry of silk and velvet before Tarren coul formulate any sort of reply. Her hopes this didn't go belly-up on Sofia would have to stay in her head.
"Agreed, the residents are far from forthcoming," Aloth nodded.
Tarren sighed and drummed her fingers on her dagger hilt. "What we've found led here. there must be something that leads onward. Records we can check, someone who's less tight-lipped." If it came to it, she coul feel souls pressing to be read. "There' s a lead here, we just need to shake the tree."
