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In Pieces (RxD oneshots)

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I don't even know how to introduce this, so here. Here is my sappy, sentimental, silly, sometimes angsty, always fluffy collection of oneshots, wherein Rhen Darzon/Pendragon and Dameon Maurva fall in love. There will also be cats ^_^

I'm going to try to post everything in chronological order here, so updates will be slow because unfortunately I am not one of those people who can write in chronological order. But the most up-to-date version of this fic will be on fanfiction.net, because I can rearrange chapters over there (which was so nice once I figured out how to do it!)

One thing I can't do on ff.net, though, is include deleted scenes. Which I can totally do here, and I have some funny/cute ones, so I might share those here >.>

Before we start, I'd like to thank the Aveyond team for creating such beautiful characters who have taught me so much. 

Aaaannd before I become too dramatic, here we go!! 


EDIT: So Queen_of_ice101 had to go and inspire me to write another piece with her adorable artwork, and this new piece is set before the original first one, "A Matter of Preference." But it's a short piece, so I'll just paste it in here and there'll be two chapters on the first post. That's fine, right? Am I breaking some forgotten rule here? But anyway, here it is:



Set when Rhen is bringing Rashnu to the Sun Shrine. Dameon is waiting to meet her and then join her, having recently received his orders from Ahriman. DUN DUN DUNNNNNN okay I will stop being dramatic now.


He was going to hate her. He knew, because his mother liked her so much. And he would never trust her— he had learned his lesson about trust. But she was going to trust him. He knew his place, and his part, and he would do what was required.

He was prepared to swallow his irritation, his dislike, his discomfort— all of it. He would be charismatic, like his father. He would force a smile. He would say nothing wrong.

She would be pompous, he knew. She would be full of being the chosen one, and he would have to take her down, carefully, slowly, so she wouldn't notice, so she would only gradually realize how impossible it would be to defeat Ahriman, how hopeless it was to even try.

She would be puffed up with her own supposed importance, and he would have to show her what was really important— justice to traitors, traitors like his mother; and revenge for the wronged— surely even she, even the chosen one, had been hurt by someone, surely such a promise would appeal even to her.

So he was prepared entirely to meet her, and as he watched her lead her companions up the temple steps, her braid swaying behind her, he knew he had been right about everything. Nothing she could do would surprise him, nothing would make him hesitate or doubt, nothing, nothing, would fool him into trusting her.

Nothing, except the way she tripped right over the last step, and her arms flailed about wildly and her eyes caught his and he realized that she was going to fall, if he didn't move his arms right— now—

He caught her shoulders, and he was already much, much closer than he'd ever intended to be and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

"Hello there," she said, which he never would have predicted even though now it seemed terribly obvious. She found her balance, and stood up straight again, and he pulled his hands back to his sides and tried to look polite, but he was sure he mostly looked bewildered. And she seemed to be trying to look serious but her nose was pink and her voice squeaked a little when she said, "I don't think we've met. Are you one of the druids?"

He had prepared for this. He had an answer, which he was supposed to give, and it was supposed to be cordial, and charming, and he had no idea what it was— her eyes were purple, but that had nothing to do with it.

"Rhen, this is my son Dameon, the Sun Priest."

His mother's voice irked him, and he was sure he sounded stiff and cold when he said to the chosen one, "M'lady, pleased to meet you." He took her hand to make up for it, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to be formal or friendly but it was too late, he had kissed her fingers, and they were very calloused, and she was turning a very charming shade of pink.

And either he had been a fool before, or he was a fool now, but he thought it would be ridiculous to try to strip away her pretensions, because she had none. And he never could have prepared for it, but somehow now he was smiling at her, and he knew, already, that this wouldn't be the last time she confounded him.




A Matter of Preference

This next short happens shortly (hahahaha) after Dameon joins Rhen's party. They are returning to Ghed'ahre to recruit Te'ijal into their group, having obtained sunscreen, but before they get there it starts to get dark and they have to camp in the Wildwoods.


"This looks like a good place to camp," the sword singer said, motioning at a flat space slightly sheltered by a few tall pine trees.

The green-haired one wrinkled his nose. "It looks lumpy."

Rhen rolled her eyes and explained to Dameon, "Lars always thinks that." Dameon nodded understandingly and privately thought that the sorcerer's antics were likely to become annoying very quickly.

The sword singer turned to their other companion. "Elini, why don't we--"

"I am not gathering firewood again!" The Veldtonian woman declared. "I get splinters and they make it difficult to do my summonings. I will set up the sleeping mats. You two can get the wood."

"Er... Okay," the chosen one said. Dameon noticed that a blush had bloomed across her face, stretching over her nose and touching the edges of each ear. It was very charming and he couldn't help smiling at her. She didn't notice because she was stubbornly looking at the ground.

"I'll light the fire once you're done," Lars volunteered, apparently feeling he was making a great sacrifice in doing so. Dameon rolled his eyes, but said in what he meant to be a polite tone, "Of course."

"We'll have to go deeper into the trees," Rhen was saying to him, already walking that way herself.

"I have camped before, you know," he said as he followed her into the woods, a little peeved at her apparent lack of faith in his abilities to do anything. Earlier she had cut down a crow that was coming his way, and at lunch she had ripped off his piece of bread for him.

She turned back to face him and suddenly all he could see were wide, sad violet eyes which were staring straight through him. He dropped his gaze, feeling ashamed for he didn't know what, and mumbled in a flustered sort of way, "Sorry, m'lady."

"I... am sorry, too," she said. "I guess I'm just used to having to take care of everyone."

Her nose was pink again and it was so adorable that he forgot to be uncomfortable. "No more, sword singer," he assured her. "I will pull my own weight." To prove it, he picked up a stick. "See, I am contributing already."

She smiled, just slightly, and Dameon realized the strangest thing. He had just made a joke. Albeit not a good one, but he hadn't even heard a joke since... since his father… since that day. He wasn't sure how to feel, but he was sure he shouldn't feel lightheaded and nervous. What was happening to him?

They didn't speak much after that, except to point out bunches of sticks to each other. Once he moved a particularly low-hanging branch out of her way, and her shoulder brushed his hand as she passed. He felt his ears get hot and he silently thanked the darkness of the forest.

He had fully intended to hate her. But she was so sincere, so entirely herself. She spoke as she thought and was so open that instead of disliking her he found that he was rapidly opening up to her. It was at once exciting and frightening.

When they had both filled their arms with sticks of varying sizes, they returned to the campground. Lars started the fire and Rhen passed out hunks of meat. Everyone reached for a thin stick to roast their dinner on, and Dameon did likewise. Nobody spoke.

Everyone's meat was soon sizzling over the flames. The smoke rose straight up into the sky--the slight breeze wasn't enough to drive it into anyone's face. And over the smoke, the sky was clear and starry.

"The weather is nice," Dameon observed conversationally, then quietly cursed himself for making such a dull comment.

"Mmgdh," Elini said, but she wasn't responding to him. She was trying to bite off a piece of practically raw meat. Dameon was shocked and a little disgusted, but he quickly turned back to the fire.

"Elini likes her meat rare," Rhen explained.

"Mmpft" Elini said, having successfully taken a bite.

"I also prefer my meat rare. Anything more done is dog food," Lars said haughtily. Then, his meat caught on fire.

"Arrgh!" he squealed, beating his now blackened meat against the ground beside him until sparks stopped flying from it. "Blasted flames! Every time..."

Dameon smiled slightly, amused, then turned to Rhen. "And how do you like your meat?"

"Er," she looked at the ground, "Medium. But I can never get it right."

"Why not?"

"I, er, never really learned..." she trailed off.

Dameon stared at her, but instead of seeing her he saw a lock of purple hair from a slave dealer, purple, not red, and he thought of her thin form curled in the dirty lower decks of a slave ship, or bent beneath a heavy burden, or flinching under-- under--

He shuddered.

"I am... sorry, sword singer."

She smiled thinly. "That's all right. I'm sure I'll get it eventually."

He couldn't tell her what he had meant. Instead, he reached for her stick. "Let me try."

"O-kay," she said, looking surprised but letting him take it. "Er, where did you learn to cook?"

"I--" he swallowed, and said carefully, "lived alone, for some time." He turned her stick and moved it farther from the fire.

"Oh," she said, and looked down, apparently embarrassed.

"Couldn't you just eat in Teacup Town?" Lars said with a roll of his eyes.

Dameon narrowed his eyes at him, unsure how to respond. "They're cats..."

Lars shrugged. "So?"

"They eat cat food."

Suddenly Lars smiled viciously. "It sounds perfect for Peta then."

Dameon was confused. Did they have a dog? He hadn't seen one.

"Don't call me that," Rhen growled, and Dameon realized what was going on. He frowned at the sorcerer, but Lars hardly noticed and continued to smirk.

"Ahh," Elini sighed contentedly, apparently having finished her meat. "That's it for me, sword singer... Sun priest... sorcerer..." She inclined her head at each in turn. "I will retire now. Goodnight, northerners."

"Goodnight Elini," Rhen said.

"I'm going to bed too," Lars said, tossing the rest of his burnt meat into the flames. "Don't forget to put out the fire."

Rhen sighed. "We won't."

Then it was just the two of them by the fire. He should say something. He should try to bring up the finer points of Ahriman's plan, slowly reveal the truth to her. His mouth was open but nothing was coming out. What was wrong with him? Her eyes were so purple, violently purple, like storm clouds whirling through a night sky, sometimes pouring down destruction, otherwise softly calling to the tiny growing things beneath the soil. He felt he couldn't look at them for too long or he would be swallowed up, lost, destroyed--yet he couldn't look away.

He wanted to say something witty and charming. He wanted her to blush again. Blushing suited her, made her silly little nose look more adorable, made her eyes stand out twice as much--

He realized then that she was blushing, though he hadn't said anything at all.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, self-consciously moving a piece of hair out of her face.

Embarrassed, he quickly looked away, then cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your dinner is done, sword singer." He handed her the stick, carefully keeping his eyes down.

He heard her chomping down on the meat, sucking up the juices like a starved animal. She was certainly not an elegant eater, but he thought it was fitting. She had no pretensions about herself, why should she have any for her meal? Without noticing, he raised his gaze to look at her, and was a little surprised to see she had already finished half her food.

She caught his eye, and said, perhaps a little shyly, "It's very good, thank you."

"Is it?" He said, more excitedly than he had meant to. "I am very glad." Then, after a little hesitation, "It is a pleasure to cook for you."

She smiled, a real smile, and it was infinitely more becoming than the blush.

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Sooo I edited the first post to add a chapter that is set before the original first one. Hopefully I don't confuse anyone too much...


@Blackprincess: Thank you!! It's nice to know that at least people can enjoy the version of Dameon I see, if they can't like their own versions, hehe. I'm glad you enjoyed reading it!

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@Rodania Thank you!! I should update this one again also xD So here we go


A Hairy Problem

This short happens after Te'ijal has been retrieved, and after Rhen and co. have made their way to the Western Isle to retrieve the next druid, Armaiti of Agriculture.


Lars had been complaining persistently about the quality of ground on the Western Isle, and, upon seeing the sign pointing towards Brumwich, had insisted that they stay at the inn there at least for one night. Elini had eagerly agreed, wishing to take a real, proper bath and to have a mirror in order to arrange her hair. Rhen wanted to hike to Clearwater, but she had to admit to herself that the demon summoner did have such lovely, flowing hair, and she couldn't help wanting to see it done up nicely.

But on the way to Brumwich, they had been attacked by cursed stones—stones, of all things!—and one of them had managed to smash Rhen's arm. Dameon had immediately begun healing it, leaving the other three to finish the battle, but the curse left her arm weak and he had insisted she keep it in a sling for at least a few days.

She didn't want to wear a stupid sling. She couldn't carry her shield while she wore it. She had to eat one-handed. She had to let someone else count out the money at the inn. And in the morning, she couldn't even brush her blasted hair, or put it up into anything even resembling a braid. She tried to pull the sling off, but a jolt of pain prevented her.

"Dameon!" she yelled, not meaning to call him but just to express her frustration. She knew it wasn't his fault the stone had targeted her, wasn't his fault she couldn't move her arm out of the way quickly enough. He had done everything he could, but why, why, why must she wear that confounded sling—

The door was opening, and a pair of guarded brown eyes peeked in. "What is the matter, sword singer?"

He still called her that, though it had been nearly two weeks now. She scowled, and answered, "My hair!"

He came into the room and cautiously regarded said object. After a moment, a small smile changed his expression from one of confusion to something like kindness. "It is beautiful."

"I can't braid it!" she huffed, not willing to be charmed into a good mood just yet. Then she said, shoving the brush at his chest, "You do it!"

He caught the brush but only stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "A week ago you wouldn't let me tear off my own bread!" he protested.

"Well, you have been promoted, Dameon!" She purposely used his name, his actual name, not his title, because she was feeling spiteful and rebellious and blast it, she hated that stupid sling!

"Sword singer—"

She glared up at him and imagined she could see his protests falling to pieces around him.

"Rhen—" he amended, more quietly, almost timidly (and she found she liked the funny twist he gave it, as though the h was not entirely silent, as though it was meant to make a half-whisper sound, and not only to take up space). "I— I have no idea how to braid."

She looked at him standing uncertainly in the doorway, and she felt a surge of irritation at herself. He was just trying to help. Why couldn't she be nice?

"I— I am sorry, Dameon,this time she said the name because she needed to feel comfortable, for once not stiff or formal. "This isn't your fault. I am just— so frustrated, because—"

To her horror, angry tears had started flowing down her face. "Because my hair," she continued stubbornly, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "I can't do anything— I wanted to go home—"

She hadn't intended to tell him this, and was mortified to find herself doing so. "I wanted to see Pa again—" the tears flowed faster. "And Ma—" she sniffed. "And— Danny— Peter—"

She felt his hand gently brush her shoulder and she looked up at him, startled.

He seemed startled himself, but he only said quietly, his brown eyes focused on her nose (why did he always look at her nose?) "I can try to braid your hair, if you will teach me."

She sniffed and managed to wipe most of the tears away, soothed not so much by his words as by his presence. Anyone else would have abandoned her to her tantrum long before now; she was thankful for his patience. It was like having a friend again. She smiled at the idea and pulled him into a grateful one-armed hug, was surprised at the softness and warmth of his robes, found that he had stiffened at the sudden contact, quickly released him, looked shyly at her feet.

Perhaps she only imagined it, but as he brushed through her hair she thought his ears seemed just a shade pinker.


You thought the hair problem was going to be Dameon's, didn't you? ;P

On another note, this was the first piece that included hair braiding. So you can blame this one for all the other hair-related fanart and fanfic I've made 


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@Blackprincess: Thank you! I was trying to make her seem actually upset and not necessarily bantering/teasing buuut I failed I guess. Ahaha. But I'm glad you liked it at least!

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I figured I might as well update this while I was here XD 



The chronology in this part of the game is very vague. There are several sidequests which might be complete before going to Clearwater, and one main quest which probably should be, but for Rhen's sake we will go straight to Clearwater without doing any of those things. It has been a year and a number of months since she's been home, and when she gets there, her father tells her that she's... not... his... daughter. On top of that, her real mother is dead, her father is presumed dead, AND, her childhood crush is missing. All in all I think Rhen has had a tough time and she rather deserves the attentions this story. 


So her dad wasn't her dad. Her ma wasn't even kinda related to her. Her actual dad was a miserable old guy who had never bothered to look for her. Or, he seemed old in his misery, but she supposed he wasn't actually any older than Pa. Her actual ma was dead, had probably died fighting Ahriman, who, it seemed, was determined to completely and irreversibly ruin her life.

And, Danny was missing.

But Rhen was not going to have another bad day. Not here, not now. Today she was going to do something fun and stupid, and anyone who thought otherwise would be subjected to an unpleasant conversation with her blade. She said as much after breakfast.

"I suppose you are too old to be bossed around by me anymore," was all Ma said. Pa laughed and agreed. "Hurry off then, lass. Come back for dinner!"

Rhen smiled and hugged her pa— her pa, no matter what anyone else said. Then she turned to her other four companions, daring any of them to protest.

Dameon and Te'ijal just smiled at her, Dameon apparently finding the idea very charming, and Te'ijal apparently amused, as she always was.

Elini shrugged. "I was going to scout the village."

"Scout?" Lars asked dubiously.

"For husbands," Elini said, quite seriously. She shook her head. "Silly northerner!"

Lars frowned petulantly. "Well, I was going to— to scout for intelligence. Come on, Te'ijal, Dameon, we haven't got all day!"

Dameon frowned at him, probably because he was being so bossy. But Te'ijal just chuckled, eternally entertained, and then followed Lars out the door. Dameon briefly touched Rhen's shoulder, with a soft, "Have fun, Rhen," and then he followed them. Rhen rubbed where his fingers had brushed, feeling suddenly very warm.

"I hope they don't kill each other," Elini said as soon as the doors closed. Rhen managed a laugh.

"Good luck with your errand; there aren't many bachelors here, last I checked."

"But then, I presume you weren't particularly looking?"

Rhen blushed, immediately thinking of Danny, but said, "Er, no, I guess not..."

Thankfully, Elini left after that, and Rhen was free to find whatever adventure she might. First, she headed for Peter's house. Peter was always up for doing something stupid (Danny never had been, now that she thought of it). In fact, this whole stupid quest was rather Peter's fault to begin with— but she could only be mad at herself. She shouldn't have talked to that stranger. But maybe it didn't matter. Probably her destiny would have caught up with her anyway.

She was so caught up in these thoughts, which she had promised not to think, that she almost ran right into a red-haired man. He apologized and then his eyes widened. "Rhen, you're back!" He grinned. "Welcome home!"

"Peter?" she said, hardly believing it. "You are so different!"

"I am different? You are the one wearing strange new clothes! And what do you need that huge blade for?"

Rhen laughed. "Never mind all that, I'm here to do something fun! Let's go chase Billy Harper's sheep or something!"

Peter laughed awkwardly.

"What?" she demanded, confused.

"Um, I watch Billy Harper's sheep now."

"Oh..." she had forgotten how long it had been, how much things must have changed. "And... Jenna?"

"We're married now!" he said, grinning.

"Oh, that's... wonderful. Really." And it really was. Jenna and Peter had liked each other for years. But... she just wished her own life was turning out so normally.

After she promised to join them for dinner one day ("Probably very far in the future," she had told him), they parted, and Rhen shuffled aimlessly through the village muttering to herself. "Well, now what?"

There was no one left to talk to her. They had all moved on, grown up. She had left, had been taken, and she could never, ever come back. The place she'd left didn't exist anymore. The friends she'd left were gone, were new people. She was alone.

There was an abundance of apples, red apples. She noticed it more now that she had been so many places where there weren't apples. But what could she possibly do with an apple? Maybe she could make some kind of mischief with the corn-stealing squirrels they had found. She picked one up and glared at it. Did squirrels eat apples? She wasn't sure. But, it was the only idea she had, so towards the squirrels she went. And she didn't think at all about the years before, or what she was going to do with her future, now that the past was gone.

It was an hour's hike to the squirrels' cave— er, base. But really she didn't even want to go there, nor did she have any idea what she would do when she got there, so half an hour later she was still not even a third of the way there. She was standing in front of yet another apple tree, deliberating, or resting, or most likely stalling, when she heard an excessively angry and pompous voice saying, "Just leave it! It's probably feral."

"It's lost," another voice, quiet and serious, protested.

"You are both most amusing," a cool female voice said.

Rhen peeked around the tree and had to smile at the scene before her. It appeared Dameon had found a cat, which he was cradling in his arms. Lars found it disgusting, and Te'ijal, as usual, found it funny. Rhen supposed it must be her job to find a resolution.

"What's going on here?" she said, stepping out from behind the tree.

Lars yelped and jumped into a defensive posture, and Dameon shielded the cat. Rhen and Te'ijal both laughed, and the cat, a brown, spotted little thing, meowed.

Lars scowled and Dameon turned red. The druid retracted his shield spell and explained sheepishly, "We thought you were another enchanted tree."

Rhen laughed again, enjoying the incongruity of the Sun Druid coddling a stray cat. "No, just me," she said.

"And it appears that we are the ones enchanted," he said with a half-smile.

Rhen was aware that her nose had turned pink but she tried to pretend she wasn't. "What'd you find?" she said, motioning at the cat.

"A wild animal!" Lars said angrily

"A cat," Dameon corrected, glaring at him.

"He thinks we should bring it home," Te'ijal explained, motioning at Dameon, "and he," now she motioned at Lars, "thinks we should leave it."

Rhen tossed aside the apple she had been carrying. "The first one sounds more exciting," she said, smiling at Dameon gratefully because now she wouldn't have to hike to the squirrel's base. He looked happily back at her— or at her nose. Had his eyes always been that dark?

"Fine, let's get this over with!" Lars huffed, stomping off into the forest. "There better be some kind of reward!"

"I saw a cottage not far from here," Te'ijal said.

"We'll go there first," Lars said over his shoulder.

"The cottage was in the other direction."

Lars glared at her but turned around.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

They found the cottage and entered the front gate. Dameon had let Rhen hold the cat, which was now purring. When he thought Rhen wasn't looking, Dameon would reach over to scratch the cat's ears, and then he would look away when he noticed Rhen watching. This awkward and sort of cute display of embarrassment made her smile, so she kept pretending not to look so he would do it again. She knew he wasn't completely socially inept: at times he could be perfectly charming. But for whatever reason, he was sometimes embarrassed and flustered by everything. And— it was strange to think, but— it seemed to happen mostly when she made him look at her eyes, and not at her nose, for goodness sake.

They arrived at the door, and Rhen gave the cat back to Dameon (which made him smile, which made her smile) so she could knock. A grumpy voice from inside said "Come in," so they did.

"My eye! My eye!" an old man was muttering to himself.

"What's wrong with your eye?" Rhen asked, alarmed.

"My brother, Dorvan, stole it from me. The wretched man dragged it away to his house in the south."

Rhen could only stare in shock, but Lars had something to say. "That's disgusting. Why would your brother steal your eye?"

"Not my real eye, you fool!" the old man scolded. "I had a magical glass eye that I used to see. Without the glass eye, I'm blind!"

"How awful!" Rhen said.

"The back gate is locked," Te'ijal announced, which made Rhen jump. Dameon touched her arm reassuringly and gave her the cat again. She thought the room suddenly felt rather hot.

The old man seemed to understand the vampress. "I locked the gate behind my house because a confounded demon kept coming up from the caves to terrorize my little Zini!"

"Who is Zini?" Rhen asked, petting the cat.

"My precious cat!" he answered.


"Oh, there you are, Zini!" the old man said. The cat jumped out of Rhen's arms and began rubbing its head against the old man's legs.

Oh. That should have been obvious, she supposed. She looked at Dameon and shrugged. He smiled back. She turned to the old man. "Can you unlock the gate for us? We can rid you of the demon."

The old man frowned. "Find my glass eye and I will open the gate for you."

Rhen agreed to this, and they made their way back out of the cottage.

"Well, that was the start of an adventure," Rhen said.

Lars rolled his eyes. "That is all the adventure I am taking part in today. I'm going back to Clearwater for some rest."

"Rest is for mortals," Te'ijal said. "But I would like to reapply my sunscreen."

Rhen didn't want to go back, not yet. She couldn't face all those changes. She turned to Dameon. "You'll do something with me, right?"

His ears turned pink and he stammered, "I— you— yes— of course, Rhen."

She smiled widely and grabbed his hand (and his cheeks turned pink, too). "Come on! We'll go chase some sheep!"


But she sped up and didn't give him the chance to question her any further.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The sheep were completely unsuspecting. Their noses were to the ground. The only sounds to be heard were their feeble baahs and the crunching of grass— and, from the edge of the forest surrounding the meadow, the whispered protests of Dameon.

"Aren't we a little old for this—"

"Sshh! You'll alert the sheep."



"I don't—"



"Dameon," she scolded, locking her eyes onto his. She liked watching his guarded gaze soften. His usual defenses broke up and he was open to her.

He colored but managed to stammer, "I— don't— like this. What if they— panic and run off— the mountain?"

"They won't."

"How do you know?"

She was surprised by the earnestness of his concern. "Haven't you ever chased sheep before?"

He stared at her with wide brown eyes and then looked away. "No."

"You— you never—"

She had known before but somehow hadn't realized that both of his parents had been druids, and two of the most isolated druids. Where did he play? How did he play? Had he even known other children? But these weren't questions she could ask, not now.

Instead, she reached out and took his hand. "Come try with me. It will be okay." She smiled gently at him. He looked back at her— at her nose, his dark eyes like prison bars— and nodded once.

And they ran.

The sheep bleated loudly and leaped out of their way, like waves of cotton parting before them. Rhen laughed and squeezed Dameon's hand. His lips were pressed together tightly. They changed direction and the sheep scattered again, some running into each other.

"Yah! Yah!" she yelled. "Fear us, sheep!"

Now he was smiling, just a little.

"Yah! Yah!" She laughed and changed direction again. The sheep went every direction to escape; one confused ewe ran in a circle.

"Rhen—" his smile was large now, "this is—"

"Oi!" a red-haired man yelled from the other side of the pasture. "Rhen, I told you watch the sheep now!" He began running towards them.

"Quick, retreat!" Rhen squealed delightedly.

They ran back into the forest, dodging roots, ducking under branches, and kept running until the sheep field had faded to a dot in the distance, until they couldn't hear Peter behind them. Laughing and panting, Rhen collapsed against a tree, pulling Dameon down beside her. "That was— so much— fun!" she gasped.

He smiled widely. "I— had fun— too."

"Dameon," she said, leaning her head on his arm. "You're— one— of my best— friends."

He had stiffened at the contact but slowly, slowly relaxed.

"You— too."

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I'm just gonna leave this update here okay thanks

In the Dark
Eventually Rhen must leave Clearwater again and get on with her quest. After rescuing Armaiti I always escort him to Aveyond instead of going to Sedona, so that's what I made Rhen's party do here. Rhen tries to convince Devin to go back to Thais and he tells her about her past, and Dameon and Talia have an unpleasant discussion which will be repeated in the short. I made them stay the night at the sun temple, which they can't do in-game but which it makes sense for them to do, and I'm the boss of the story so they'll do what I want.


The rain made a hollow, echoing sound on the stone roof above him. Everyone else was asleep, but he couldn't sleep, not after all that had been said. He was restless, pacing the main room of the Sun Temple, remembering.

"My son, have you forgiven me yet?"

She was a murderer. She was the murderer, and a traitor. How could there be forgiveness for such a crime?

"He had to die, you know that."

He wanted to scream. She had taken his hero, his father. And then she had abandoned him, just like she'd abandoned his father's bleeding, dying soul, left them both to suffer alone—

A slender hand touched his elbow, and there was Rhen.

"What happened to Dameon's father? Why did he have to die?"

"He was the Sun priest before Dameon. He turned to dark ways and used the powers of the sun to help Ahriman return to power."

That's how she had put it. Dameon remembered differently. He didn't know a Sun priest. He knew the man who taught him healing spells, who explored Memory Caverns and Teacup Town with him, who brought brightly colored Aveyondian flowers to the Dreamworld for his mother. His mother


He turned, startled, and a flash of lightning illuminated Rhen's face.

"Why are you still up?" she asked, crossing the room and touching his elbow.

He pulled away. He couldn't think when she touched him. He couldn't even breathe. He didn't know why.

"It's nearly dawn," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. The wind picked up and the rain made a more solid, staccato sound above them, like a panicked heartbeat.

"I cannot sleep," he said finally, hoarsely, not looking at her, seeing only his mother's grim face while his father lay dying on the floor.

Thunder crashed above them. Rhen jumped slightly, and shivered. "Me neither."

Something in the way she said it caught at him, pulled him out of the past, and now he looked at her (or at her nose, stubby and slightly upturned). "What's wrong?"

She rubbed her arms, looked shyly at her toes. "I'm afraid for the future."

He nodded. "Me too."

"I don't know anything about being a queen." She was speaking quickly, frightened, vulnerable, her lavender hair falling into her face. "I don't even know what Thais looks like. I— I can't even remember my mother."

He was quiet, thinking. Her mother was not like his mother; Queen Alicia had died for her child, not killed for herself. And yet-- both had left their children alone.

"I can't feel anything for Devin. I don't know him."

Not feeling was something he couldn't understand. He felt everything, so harshly it frightened him.

"I am not... ready. I can't do any of this. I will disappoint all four of my parents." She shivered again, and he realized she didn't have thick robes like he did. Slowly, hesitating, he took off his outer robe and draped it over her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink and so were his.

"You will catch a cold," he explained.

She nodded. "Thank you."

He swallowed and managed to say, slowly, "You don't... need to be ready... yet. And you can... choose for yourself, when the time... comes. You can... make your own destiny." He paused, suddenly overcome with shyness, and— and— jealousy, then blurted, "I think Devin is proud of you."

She looked at him with her wide violet eyes and he couldn't look away. "Thank you, Dameon." She smiled softly. "I think Talia is proud of you, too. She just doesn't know how to express it."

He colored, because he felt angry, and betrayed, and... lost.

Rhen touched his elbow again, and it made his heart leap into his throat but it also grounded him, steadied him. "I... am sorry, about your father."

No one had ever said that. Only Dameon had regretted losing him, only Dameon had mourned. But here was this stubby-nosed warrior who could understand and be sorry, even in the dark.

"Thank you."

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I've been hesitating to post this next piece because I might write one that goes before it, but as of now it isn't started so whatever, I'll just edit this post if I end up writing it. Anyway, you can always find everything in order here


Night Watch

If I actually had to obtain sap from trees to have it in my stories, this piece would have resulted in the obliteration of half the world forests*.

Set in the late hours of the night while the party is camping in the woods, most likely the Wildwoods but I wasn't sure if I wanted to put this before or after "In the Dark," so I don't know. Feel free to share your thoughts on that.

All the constellations mentioned are references to one of the games. Mostly AP, cuz that's the one I know best, having played it approximately fifty million times.

*Fortunately, story sap does not need to come from trees and no plants were harmed in the making of this fanfiction.

It was Rhen's turn to keep watch. Usually they just let Te'ijal keep watch, but the vampress had asked for time to explore, by which she likely meant hunt— but anyway, Elini had woken Rhen up to take her turn about an hour ago, and at first everything had been quiet and uneventful (besides Dameon's soft snoring, and Lars's sitting up suddenly to throw a boot at him before falling back asleep like nothing had happened). But then she'd heard rustling leaves and the sound of cracking twigs from somewhere just beyond the glow of the dying fire.

She hadn't wanted to wake everyone up if it was nothing, so she'd drawn her sword (and the shhiiish of the metal against the scabbard made her heart race) and she'd gone to investigate alone. And now here she was, fumbling through the darkness, looking for who knew what. She was probably going to get attacked before she could even find a place to put her feet—

"Oof!" Her foot found a root and she was careening forward. Her sword went flying and her palms found the forest floor and scraped against the dirt and foliage— whatever it was heard her crash to the ground and dashed away. Probably just an animal, then. Maybe a very lost rabbit.

She pushed herself to her feet and scowled down at her hands. They were bleeding and stinging and had bits of dirt and twig stuck in them. Stupid, clumsy. It was going to be hard to hold her sword now, when she found where it had landed. If she could find it, in these woods. She should have woken someone up. She scowled and blew her bangs away from her face. She hated to ask for help, especially for something so trivial, but she had made enough mistakes for one night. She'd better go get somebody.

Probably Dameon. Maybe he wouldn't mind, because he had the next watch anyway. He could probably conjure some kind of light to help her look around. And, he wouldn't scold her or tease her.

So she made her way back to the campsite and managed to find where Dameon's mat was without stepping on everyone else (though she nearly kicked Elini in the head), and she kneeled beside him.

"Dameon," she whispered, and reached out to shake his shoulder—

Except before her hand got there he shifted and his eyes opened, and he was looking at her very seriously, and sitting up. "Is it my watch?"

"Er— no, I" She hesitated. He was going to think she was so stupid, for waking him up for something so unimportant. She should have just waited for her watch to be over. But he was up now, so she stammered, "I— I need your help."

He blinked.

"I lost my sword," she explained, and pointed at the woods. "There was something moving, and I went to investigate, and I— er, I tripped." She was blushing and he still looked so serious. "And I scraped up my hands," she added, holding them up for him to see why was she mentioning that? She folded her arms and shoved her fingers under her elbows and tried to finish her thought. "So could you— help me?"

She was ashamed to look in his eyes but she didn't have anywhere else to look— but he just nodded, and held out his palms towards her.

She stared at them uncertainly for a moment, until he whispered, "May I see?"

"Er— what?"

He furrowed his eyebrows (he had nice eyebrows, which was a weird thing to think but there it was)."Your hands. You said they were injured?"

"Oh— er— yes," she stammered. "But I meant I didn't expect well I guess— here," she finished defeatedly, and put her hands, palms up, in his. She guessed they could look for her sword later.

He had long, graceful fingers that made her hands look like they belonged to a dwarf, a clumsy dwarf, because they were all scratched up, and she felt very self-conscious and stupid. And burdensome— why had she not just waited? "Sorry about waking you up for this. I— should have let you sleep."

"I don't mind," he whispered back, now holding her hands— her clumsy dwarf hands— in one of his so he could use the other to pull out his waterskin. "This is my job, isn't it?"

She tried to feel guilty, for making him feel like he was expected to do things like this, but he had a soft sort of voice and she just felt soothed.

He poured the cold water from his waterskin over her hands and rubbed her palms gently, cleaning off the dirt and blood, and she shivered and thought that his eyes were very dark, and that his long, long fingers were warm, and that they fit around hers kind of nicely, and somehow what she decided to say from all this was, "You have very big hands."

He glanced up at her and it seemed like his ears were pink. "I guess I do, compared to yours," he said, putting the water away now, and drying her hands with his sleeve.

He started whispering one of his spells and she looked up at the sky and wondered why she had to be so awkward. If she had to be tasked with saving the world and ruling a country and all that nonsense, she at least could have been fortunate enough to have a little natural tact, a little innate charm. Something.

"Are you looking at Serendipity?" Dameon whispered, letting go of her now-healed hands and gesturing up at a group of stars. "The sort of diamond shape?"

"That's supposed to be Serendipity? The Nymph of Luck?"

He smiled. "Yes."

Rhen stifled a laugh. "She looks like a box."

Dameon made a sound that seemed almost like a chuckle, which made her blush for whatever reason. She cleared her throat and scanned the sky— the stars were kind of pretty, and comfortable, somehow. They were always the same. Constant. "What else is up there?"

He shifted next to her. "Well... there's Eliza Stoneheart." He traced a few seemingly random stars with his finger— which looked very elegant, silhouetted against the night sky.

"Hmm." That was a strange name. "Was she a dwarf?"

"What?" He looked at her and then back at the sky. "No, she was a warrior. Like you."

"Oh." Rhen felt herself blushing, and she wasn't sure if Dameon could tell in the dark. "Why did they call her Stoneheart? Was she cruel?"

He crinkled his eyebrows again, which was nice. "I don't know."

Rhen looked up at the stars he had traced, and she thought they looked very far away. Sort of solitary, and... and maybe a little sad. "Perhaps," she began uncertainly. "Perhaps she was really kind. And she was just... just lonely."

He looked at her and there was a sort of softness in his eyes. "Maybe."

And maybe Eliza Stoneheart was lonely, but Rhen wasn't, not right now, with Dameon sitting beside her, talking quietly about things that didn't matter a bit.

"Is there anything over that way?" she asked, pointing.

He followed her gesture and tilted his head. "I think... do you see the triangular shape? With the line through it?"

She moved closer to him to see where he was pointing— and she felt warm. "Yeah, I think so."

He continued slowly, "I think that one is Yeccanuath, the mother of the Tehyor dragons."

"Hmm." Yeccanuath was big, and bright, and— "She looks more like one of Te'ijal's arrows."

He smiled at her, and shook his head. "There's also Squeakerbane." He was pointing at an arching line of stars. "The rooster."

She tried not to laugh. "The rooster?"


"Why is there a rooster constellation?"

"Well," he began hesitantly, "he was supposedly a scholar."

This time she really did laugh— but still quietly. "What, was he the scholar of chicken-scratch penmanship?"

Dameon smiled and she found herself trying to think of something else funny to say. "Professor of the most annoying morning sounds? Disciple of eggheads?"

He smiled wider and she couldn't stop herself. "Or maybe," she waggled her eyebrows, and leaned closer to him, so that their noses almost touched— "an expert on fowl love?"

He laughed, but it came out all choked, and his eyes were wide and his face was red, red, red— she pulled away from him. What was she doing? She felt very warm, and he was warm, and— and the stars were very, very bright.

And even though she knew they were far, far away, they seemed to be right there with her, shining with the opposite of solitude.

"What— what other constellations are there?"

He was quiet, and still red, but in a comfortable way, and his dark eyes were searching the sky.

"There's the glass coffin, here," he pointed. "The rectangle with the point at the end."

She leaned towards him, slowly and carefully this time, and found the shape he described.

"A coffin?" she asked, smiling maybe because it was funny, or maybe because it was bright.

"It sounds sort of morbid, doesn't it?" he said, and smiled too. "It goes with an old story about a sleeping princess."


It was pretty, and she felt warm, and also— safe, maybe, and—

She yawned. "I wish I were a sleeping princess."

He touched her arm, just barely, and said, looking at her with that serious expression that was becoming familiar, "Why don't you go to bed? I can finish your watch."

She looked back at him. "Are you sure?"

He nodded once. "Of course."

She tried to refuse, to do what she was supposed to do, and finish what was expected of her— but the starlight sparkled timidly in his eyes, and instead she whispered, "Okay. Thank you, Dameon."

And she crawled to where her mat was, and settled into it, and watched the outline of Dameon scan the campsite, and stir the fire, and move in and out of the stars, like he belonged to them—

And she fell asleep, and completely forgot about looking for her stupid sword.

But when she woke up in the morning it was by her mat, and Dameon was picking twigs out of his hair.

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@Ant:o Wow, thank you so much!! I am ecstatic that you liked these, thanks for taking the time to comment! I'm glad you liked the constellations too, they were fun to come up with! Thank you for making such a rich world to write about, and thanks for creating these wonderful characters and writing such a profound and beautiful story for them (and for throwing in so much hilarity, too!)

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