Bit of fic.
Apr. 14th, 2011 12:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tehluggageField: not actually conducive to me sleeping, especially when plot bunnies like this one latch on.
Siblingverse, with Rob, Jim, and Assorted Others. Including a High Dragon.
The dragon – no, sorry, high dragon – towers over all of them, still an incredibly dangerous foe even though by this point, she is clearly more dead than alive. One massive wing hangs broken and useless at her side, thanks to Merrill tossing boulder after boulder at it, and there are countless other wounds, gouges and marks scoring its immense hide, courtesy of Fenris, Jim and Anders dishing out every nasty trick in their arsenal.
Rob has stayed well clear of the dragon, painfully aware that she does not have the fortitude necessary to stand up to direct physical assaults like Fenris, and none of the oh-so-handy magic that allows her brother, his boyfriend and Merrill to deal such incredible damage and not get squished.
She does, however, pride herself on having done quite a lot of harm with her beloved bow. There’s an especially nasty burn swelling the dragon’s right eye closed, thanks to a well placed exploding arrow, and it is definitely favouring its left foreleg. In fact, she can still see the arrow embedded in the joint. A beautiful shot, even if she does say so herself.
Right now, the beast is focused on the teeny tiny mages who have dared to offend it so, giving Rob a chance to clean up the lone remaining drake and the last group of dragonlings that surround it. It’s definitely a strange day, that she can look at killing a drake – on her own, no less – as a routine distraction.
The sights and sounds of the battle are overwhelming, what with fireballs and lightning storms raging furiously over the entire pit, the high-pitched cries of the dragonlings and the earth-shattering roar of the big girl, and that is why Rob does not notice the tenor of her companion’s battle cries have changed, that Fenris and Jim are suddenly sprinting towards her at full tilt.
She slams her knife into the drake’s eye, finally putting it down for good, and suddenly the world goes horribly wrong. Something hits her side, so hard and so fast that she can’t yet feel the pain, can only think about maybe possibly breathing sometime soon as she is flung like a broken doll across the valley floor, tumbling helplessly until she slams into a rock wall with shattering force. For a moment, she thinks, “Well, that wasn’t so bad”, but only for a moment, because it’s then that the pain hits her. Some detached part of her brain notes clinically that there are multiple broken bones, including several fingers – and won’t that just suck to have them set – but it’s mostly drowned out by the white tide of pain currently swamping her. She tries to scream – for help, or simply just to scream – but her lungs refuse to obey.
The pain and agony draw things out, slow them down to the point where it feels as though hours have passed while she lies helpless and unable to breathe, but Jim tells her afterwards that it had only been a few seconds before he fell heavily to his knees at her side, bellowing for Fenris and Merrill to distract the dragon right fucking now, and for Anders to get that goddamned shield up.
Somehow, Rob manages to meet his eyes, wide and panicked and so like her own, and he manages a rather ghastly looking smirk.
“Never looked better,” he snipes, even as he raises his hands over her, already glowing with magic, and that’s how she knows she’ll be okay.
She doesn’t remember much of anything else until she wakes up in her bed at home.
The fireplace is crackling soothingly, and judging by the light streaming in the windows, it’s early afternoon. Jim is snoring fit to wake the dead, draped over a chair that he’d obviously dragged to her bedside.
Rob takes a moment to observe him, sprawled every which way in the chair, great long legs stretched out in front and ready to trip the unwary, his white-blond hair even more hopelessly tousled than usual, and stubble on his jaw. That alone is enough to tell her she’s been out for an unusually long time, something Jim confirms when he cracks one bleary eye open and finds her awake and staring at him.
“Enjoy your beauty sleep? Obviously you needed it, you’ve been out for a day and a half since we dragged your sorry behind back home,” he snarks. Jim’s smirking, but Rob can see the genuine concern concealed behind the humour (something they share, and not one of their better traits, she ruefully acknowledges), so she just smiles and says simply, “Thanks.”
His face softens a little, and they sit quietly for a moment until a thought strikes Rob, and she turns her head towards him. Only her head, though, because she’s had far too many lectures and demonstrations on what exactly happens to patients who try to get up before they’ve fully recovered. Jim can heal, but he has a terrible bedside manner.
“What exactly happened back there?” Rob is curious to know what happened, as it’s been a very long time since she’s been knocked out of a fight so…emphatically. Something else occurs to her, and before Jim can answer, she indignantly says, “And who killed the damn thing! It was supposed to be mine!”
Jim simply rolls his eyes at her. The look on his face is one she knows well, one that says if only she’d stop interrupting her darling baby brother, who’s worked so hard to be loyal and dutiful, she’d get all the answers she desired. Rob thinks briefly about how utterly unfair it is that he’d been born with such an expressive face, then gestures magnanimously for him to speak.
“Thank you oh so much,” he says sarcastically. “As I was about to say, the reason you’re stuck up here and not celebrating obnoxiously at the pub is because while you were putting down that drake – nice move, by the way – the dragon got away from us and took a swipe at you. It, ah, wasn’t pretty, you went flying. Hard.” He looks uncharacteristically sober at this point. Rob reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. She understands exactly how he feels, having watched Jim take a few too many nasty hits over the years.
He recovers, gives her a smile and continues. “Anyway. I made it over to you, had Anders shield us just in case, and Fenris and Merrill put down the big scary dragon.” Rob thinks to herself that she’s sorry she missed it, it would have been quite the spectacle. Then Jim grins at her.
“You know...” he says. “I seem to recall Fenris being a little angry with her – more than his usual pissiness, I mean. He put that sword you gave him right through her eye. Several times, even!”
Now Jim is leering at her, just waiting for some kind of reaction. Rob stares directly back at him, willing herself not to betray a single twitch. It doesn’t work, unfortunately, because she feels her cheeks growing hot and Jim’s smirk grows wider until he gives a little cackle of delight, that of the obnoxious little brother who’s just found something else to tease her about. She glares at him, but he just laughs louder.
Hmph. She pouts a little, then decides that she’s had quite enough of his nonsense, reaches up, and smacks him across the ear, cutting off his laughter.
“I would like to get out of bed now,” she informs him primly. “I’m hungry, and I can hear everyone downstairs. When were you going to tell me they were here, incidentally?”
Jim shrugs. “Eh, you would have seen them sooner or later. I’ve had a devil of a time trying to keep them quiet, though, and they’ll be glad to see you up and out of bed. Which, by the way, you can. Get out of bed, I mean.”
“As always, dear brother, you are concise and eloquent.” Jim narrows his eyes, but Rob ignores him, throws the covers back and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She moves to stand, but unfortunately is still rather weak, and Jim catches her before she goes down.
“Careful,” he admonishes. “You’ll be shaky for a while, until you get some food. Thankfully, we’ve got a feast laid out downstairs. Take your time getting dressed, and just call when you’re ready.” He brushes a quick kiss over her forehead, then heads out to the main hall, closing her door quietly behind him.
Rob sits for a short time, letting the unexpected sting of tears subside. For all their sniping and joking, he is always there for her when she needs him, now more than ever. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she were alone in this mansion, with Carver away fighting darkspawn, and Bethy cloistered in the Circle. It’s not something she likes to contemplate.
Regardless, this is no time to sit and dawdle. There’s a party downstairs, and even though she’s tired, Rob will be damned if she lets this one pass her by. It’s not often everyone can be gathered at the Hawke estate, and it’s a most auspicious occasion.
She picks out one of her simplest robes, one that won’t take much time or effort to put on, and one that is a lovely shade of green. She knows it’s a flattering colour, and even though she’d never admit it to anyone - except maybe Isabela and Aveline, and only then if they were all drunk – it’s one that she knows Fenris likes.
Rob gives herself a quick glance in the mirror, decides that there’s nothing she’s going to be able to do with her hair, and everyone’s seen it in some truly awful styles before besides, and goes to her door. Her hand is on the knob, but before she can turn it, the door opens for her and Fenris is there.
“May I come in?” he asks quietly, and Rob nods, fighting off a sudden, embarrassing attack of nerves.
He steps across the threshold, and closes the door with a gentle click behind him. His eyes are searching her face for any trace of remaining injuries, and Rob meets his gaze, even though she knows her cheeks are bright red again.
Fenris’s face relaxes subtly when he sees that she’s fully healed, albeit tired, and he gathers her up gently in a hug.
Rob snakes her arms around his waist, and buries her face in his shoulder, breathing in the spicy scent of lyrium and grumpy elf. She notes to herself that he’d be rather irritated if he ever found out she thought of it in those terms, and makes a mental note to never tell Isabela.
They stand quietly for a time, Fenris seemingly content to simply hold her. She gratefully takes the opportunity to lean into him, aware that quiet times such as this are all too rare.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he suddenly rumbles in her ear, his arms tightening around her as she squeaks in surprise. “Next time, remember to avoid the angry dragon.”
Rob leans back as far as he’ll let her, and mock glares at him. “Thanks for the advice, oh wise and glowy elf. I’ll keep that in mind, should we ever run across another high dragon.” Fenris leans forward a little, and rests his forehead against hers.
“You’d better,” he says, suddenly serious, and then his lips are on hers, surprisingly soft and warm. It’s a kiss of relief, one that indicates how worried he’d actually been, and it’s over all too soon. He pulls back slowly, and when Rob opens her eyes, he sighs.
“Time to head downstairs,” he says reluctantly. “If we’re not down soon, Isabela will come after us.” Rob laughs, and they walk slowly to the door, Fenris keeping one arm around her waist for support.
When they reach the head of the stairs, they are greeted by Donnic and Aveline’s shouts of congratulations for having killed the dragon, Isabela’s crude jokes about what might have delayed them so long, and general goodwill and cheer. Varric’s at the head of the table, telling a wildly embellished version of the story to a wide-eyed Sandal and Merrill, and Jim is in a corner with Anders, their heads together, and quietly private smiles on their faces. It’s a delightfully domestic scene, one that Rob knows she’ll keep in her heart for a very long time.
Siblingverse, with Rob, Jim, and Assorted Others. Including a High Dragon.
The dragon – no, sorry, high dragon – towers over all of them, still an incredibly dangerous foe even though by this point, she is clearly more dead than alive. One massive wing hangs broken and useless at her side, thanks to Merrill tossing boulder after boulder at it, and there are countless other wounds, gouges and marks scoring its immense hide, courtesy of Fenris, Jim and Anders dishing out every nasty trick in their arsenal.
Rob has stayed well clear of the dragon, painfully aware that she does not have the fortitude necessary to stand up to direct physical assaults like Fenris, and none of the oh-so-handy magic that allows her brother, his boyfriend and Merrill to deal such incredible damage and not get squished.
She does, however, pride herself on having done quite a lot of harm with her beloved bow. There’s an especially nasty burn swelling the dragon’s right eye closed, thanks to a well placed exploding arrow, and it is definitely favouring its left foreleg. In fact, she can still see the arrow embedded in the joint. A beautiful shot, even if she does say so herself.
Right now, the beast is focused on the teeny tiny mages who have dared to offend it so, giving Rob a chance to clean up the lone remaining drake and the last group of dragonlings that surround it. It’s definitely a strange day, that she can look at killing a drake – on her own, no less – as a routine distraction.
The sights and sounds of the battle are overwhelming, what with fireballs and lightning storms raging furiously over the entire pit, the high-pitched cries of the dragonlings and the earth-shattering roar of the big girl, and that is why Rob does not notice the tenor of her companion’s battle cries have changed, that Fenris and Jim are suddenly sprinting towards her at full tilt.
She slams her knife into the drake’s eye, finally putting it down for good, and suddenly the world goes horribly wrong. Something hits her side, so hard and so fast that she can’t yet feel the pain, can only think about maybe possibly breathing sometime soon as she is flung like a broken doll across the valley floor, tumbling helplessly until she slams into a rock wall with shattering force. For a moment, she thinks, “Well, that wasn’t so bad”, but only for a moment, because it’s then that the pain hits her. Some detached part of her brain notes clinically that there are multiple broken bones, including several fingers – and won’t that just suck to have them set – but it’s mostly drowned out by the white tide of pain currently swamping her. She tries to scream – for help, or simply just to scream – but her lungs refuse to obey.
The pain and agony draw things out, slow them down to the point where it feels as though hours have passed while she lies helpless and unable to breathe, but Jim tells her afterwards that it had only been a few seconds before he fell heavily to his knees at her side, bellowing for Fenris and Merrill to distract the dragon right fucking now, and for Anders to get that goddamned shield up.
Somehow, Rob manages to meet his eyes, wide and panicked and so like her own, and he manages a rather ghastly looking smirk.
“Never looked better,” he snipes, even as he raises his hands over her, already glowing with magic, and that’s how she knows she’ll be okay.
She doesn’t remember much of anything else until she wakes up in her bed at home.
The fireplace is crackling soothingly, and judging by the light streaming in the windows, it’s early afternoon. Jim is snoring fit to wake the dead, draped over a chair that he’d obviously dragged to her bedside.
Rob takes a moment to observe him, sprawled every which way in the chair, great long legs stretched out in front and ready to trip the unwary, his white-blond hair even more hopelessly tousled than usual, and stubble on his jaw. That alone is enough to tell her she’s been out for an unusually long time, something Jim confirms when he cracks one bleary eye open and finds her awake and staring at him.
“Enjoy your beauty sleep? Obviously you needed it, you’ve been out for a day and a half since we dragged your sorry behind back home,” he snarks. Jim’s smirking, but Rob can see the genuine concern concealed behind the humour (something they share, and not one of their better traits, she ruefully acknowledges), so she just smiles and says simply, “Thanks.”
His face softens a little, and they sit quietly for a moment until a thought strikes Rob, and she turns her head towards him. Only her head, though, because she’s had far too many lectures and demonstrations on what exactly happens to patients who try to get up before they’ve fully recovered. Jim can heal, but he has a terrible bedside manner.
“What exactly happened back there?” Rob is curious to know what happened, as it’s been a very long time since she’s been knocked out of a fight so…emphatically. Something else occurs to her, and before Jim can answer, she indignantly says, “And who killed the damn thing! It was supposed to be mine!”
Jim simply rolls his eyes at her. The look on his face is one she knows well, one that says if only she’d stop interrupting her darling baby brother, who’s worked so hard to be loyal and dutiful, she’d get all the answers she desired. Rob thinks briefly about how utterly unfair it is that he’d been born with such an expressive face, then gestures magnanimously for him to speak.
“Thank you oh so much,” he says sarcastically. “As I was about to say, the reason you’re stuck up here and not celebrating obnoxiously at the pub is because while you were putting down that drake – nice move, by the way – the dragon got away from us and took a swipe at you. It, ah, wasn’t pretty, you went flying. Hard.” He looks uncharacteristically sober at this point. Rob reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. She understands exactly how he feels, having watched Jim take a few too many nasty hits over the years.
He recovers, gives her a smile and continues. “Anyway. I made it over to you, had Anders shield us just in case, and Fenris and Merrill put down the big scary dragon.” Rob thinks to herself that she’s sorry she missed it, it would have been quite the spectacle. Then Jim grins at her.
“You know...” he says. “I seem to recall Fenris being a little angry with her – more than his usual pissiness, I mean. He put that sword you gave him right through her eye. Several times, even!”
Now Jim is leering at her, just waiting for some kind of reaction. Rob stares directly back at him, willing herself not to betray a single twitch. It doesn’t work, unfortunately, because she feels her cheeks growing hot and Jim’s smirk grows wider until he gives a little cackle of delight, that of the obnoxious little brother who’s just found something else to tease her about. She glares at him, but he just laughs louder.
Hmph. She pouts a little, then decides that she’s had quite enough of his nonsense, reaches up, and smacks him across the ear, cutting off his laughter.
“I would like to get out of bed now,” she informs him primly. “I’m hungry, and I can hear everyone downstairs. When were you going to tell me they were here, incidentally?”
Jim shrugs. “Eh, you would have seen them sooner or later. I’ve had a devil of a time trying to keep them quiet, though, and they’ll be glad to see you up and out of bed. Which, by the way, you can. Get out of bed, I mean.”
“As always, dear brother, you are concise and eloquent.” Jim narrows his eyes, but Rob ignores him, throws the covers back and swings her legs over the side of the bed. She moves to stand, but unfortunately is still rather weak, and Jim catches her before she goes down.
“Careful,” he admonishes. “You’ll be shaky for a while, until you get some food. Thankfully, we’ve got a feast laid out downstairs. Take your time getting dressed, and just call when you’re ready.” He brushes a quick kiss over her forehead, then heads out to the main hall, closing her door quietly behind him.
Rob sits for a short time, letting the unexpected sting of tears subside. For all their sniping and joking, he is always there for her when she needs him, now more than ever. She doesn’t know what she’d do if she were alone in this mansion, with Carver away fighting darkspawn, and Bethy cloistered in the Circle. It’s not something she likes to contemplate.
Regardless, this is no time to sit and dawdle. There’s a party downstairs, and even though she’s tired, Rob will be damned if she lets this one pass her by. It’s not often everyone can be gathered at the Hawke estate, and it’s a most auspicious occasion.
She picks out one of her simplest robes, one that won’t take much time or effort to put on, and one that is a lovely shade of green. She knows it’s a flattering colour, and even though she’d never admit it to anyone - except maybe Isabela and Aveline, and only then if they were all drunk – it’s one that she knows Fenris likes.
Rob gives herself a quick glance in the mirror, decides that there’s nothing she’s going to be able to do with her hair, and everyone’s seen it in some truly awful styles before besides, and goes to her door. Her hand is on the knob, but before she can turn it, the door opens for her and Fenris is there.
“May I come in?” he asks quietly, and Rob nods, fighting off a sudden, embarrassing attack of nerves.
He steps across the threshold, and closes the door with a gentle click behind him. His eyes are searching her face for any trace of remaining injuries, and Rob meets his gaze, even though she knows her cheeks are bright red again.
Fenris’s face relaxes subtly when he sees that she’s fully healed, albeit tired, and he gathers her up gently in a hug.
Rob snakes her arms around his waist, and buries her face in his shoulder, breathing in the spicy scent of lyrium and grumpy elf. She notes to herself that he’d be rather irritated if he ever found out she thought of it in those terms, and makes a mental note to never tell Isabela.
They stand quietly for a time, Fenris seemingly content to simply hold her. She gratefully takes the opportunity to lean into him, aware that quiet times such as this are all too rare.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he suddenly rumbles in her ear, his arms tightening around her as she squeaks in surprise. “Next time, remember to avoid the angry dragon.”
Rob leans back as far as he’ll let her, and mock glares at him. “Thanks for the advice, oh wise and glowy elf. I’ll keep that in mind, should we ever run across another high dragon.” Fenris leans forward a little, and rests his forehead against hers.
“You’d better,” he says, suddenly serious, and then his lips are on hers, surprisingly soft and warm. It’s a kiss of relief, one that indicates how worried he’d actually been, and it’s over all too soon. He pulls back slowly, and when Rob opens her eyes, he sighs.
“Time to head downstairs,” he says reluctantly. “If we’re not down soon, Isabela will come after us.” Rob laughs, and they walk slowly to the door, Fenris keeping one arm around her waist for support.
When they reach the head of the stairs, they are greeted by Donnic and Aveline’s shouts of congratulations for having killed the dragon, Isabela’s crude jokes about what might have delayed them so long, and general goodwill and cheer. Varric’s at the head of the table, telling a wildly embellished version of the story to a wide-eyed Sandal and Merrill, and Jim is in a corner with Anders, their heads together, and quietly private smiles on their faces. It’s a delightfully domestic scene, one that Rob knows she’ll keep in her heart for a very long time.
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Date: 2011-04-14 09:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-14 05:11 pm (UTC)And thank you again for the beta, it really helped.