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This fic is dedicated to @Rodania ♡ and @Mu11berry, whose rants about T/G causes me to have the dream that inspired this fic. This is...definitely not the kind of pairing or story I usually write, and it turned out kinda OOC, but I hope the fans of this pairing enjoy it anyway. 

On the Nature of Marriage (and Vampires)

Summary: Set AV2-era. Te'ijal and Galahad work out some problems in their relationship.


Afternoon sunlight dappled through the windows of the old Sedona mansion. On the threshold stood a couple - a lady in red and a knight in tarnished armor. The woman swung open the doors, turning the ornate handles with a moonlight-pale hand adorned with polished ruby fingernails. She briefly considered asking her husband to carry her over the threshold, as she once did many years ago, but she already know what her answer would be. Instead, she sashayed grandly into the house, leading her partner by the hand. 

"Here it is. The house we shared with Rhen Pendragon over a century ago. Galahad, do you like it?" 

Galahad remained a pillar in the center of the grand foyer, ignoring Te'ijal's attempts to lead him around as if they were in a ballroom. "So this is what you were doing when you went to the Overworld," he observed.

"Yes, and it was quite a bit of trouble, too. This estate has been the summer home of the Pendragons for centuries. A man named Uthar Pendragon was willing to sell, though. With a bit of bribery, of course." Te'ijal grinned, showing off fangs that sparkled in the sunlight. 

"Uthar is a respectable man. I hope you haven't slighted his family."

"It was harmless, my dear. I paid him a respectable sum, not that he needs it anyway." Te'ijal ran along the perimeter of the room, opening curtains to flood the room with light that reflected off the gilded banisters and light fixtures. "Look at how bright it is!" She reached up to remove the broad-rimmed sun hat she used to hide her preternatural features from mortals. Stray locks of ruby red hair sprang loose from their updo, glinting in the sunlight as they fell. Te'ijal smiled, a genuine smile of joy that was so different from her usual mischievous smirk. Galahad had to look away. 

"It certainly is beautiful," he mused. "Thank you, wife." 

"I'll get our bags from the carriage," said Te'ijal, and she flitted out the door. When she returned after unpacking, she found Galahad in the dining room, tracing the corner of the table that was much too large for two people. 

Te'ijal placed a hand on the shoulder of Galahad's armor. "I remember when we were first married, and I would chase you around this table for hours," she laughed. "But we don't have to eat here anymore, if you wish. Is something the matter?" 

Galahad turned to face her. "Look at the table." Te'ijal looked, seeing the gold-plated edges, the polished wooden surface, and the plates and silverware set up for a meal, probably by the servants that used to wait on the Pendragons. "I can barely even see my reflection in it," Galahad noted bitterly. "And you - you're not even there at all." He turned away again, not wanting to face his wife, his maker, the woman who had given him all this but could never give him back his life.

"I'm right here, Galahad. Why does it matter if we can't see our reflections? All we need to see is each other. I thought this is what you wanted - to live under the sun again."

He suddenly slammed his fist on the table, causing the dinnerware to clatter. Te'ijal flinched, but only slightly - she was a warrior hundreds of years old, and her husband's temper was nothing new to her. "Look at me!" He thrust his hand in front of her face. "My skin is already starting to burn. I can never truly live in the light, not after what you did to me." 

Galahad stalked off to one of the bedrooms - the bedroom they had shared after they were married. Te'ijal knew how to battle, but comforting others was something foreign to her. She thought she had finally done something right to please him. Through years of ranting about his moral code, Galahad had taught her that marriage was about sacrifice. Leaving her home in Ghed'ahre wasn't easy, but she did it for him. Te'ijal had sacrificed a fair bit, but she couldn't sacrifice her very nature. Was that what he wanted her to do? After so many centuries, her humanity was nothing more than a distant memory. Except, of course, with Galahad. Being around him made her feel foolish human things, like anger, and love, and stinging guilt that didn't use to bother her but now pricked at her eyes and heart. She wanted to run after Galahad, to apologize, to tell him off for being so irrational, to show him that he had hurt her too.  But all she did was wait for night to fall, as if the moon held all her answers. 


The next morning, Galahad woke to birds chirping and sunlight filtering through the windows. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced for a hundred years. The sunlight warmed his soul for a blissful, ignorant moment before he remembered he didn't have a soul anymore and that the sun would burn him if he didn't apply his morning sunblock. He reached over to wake his wife, and then the memory of last night's argument came back too, along with a pang of guilt for having acted so ungrateful. 

"Wife?" he called. The shout echoed through the empty house. Pressing down a feeling of hurt, Galahad got out of bed to check the other rooms. "I'm sorry for my outburst last night," he said, hoping that she'd appear to accept his apology. His calls became more frantic as he searched the house. It was only by accident that he discovered a note left on the dining room table, written in his wife's flourishing penmanship. 


The house is yours. I've gone to the Underworld to think some things over. I'll be back soon.



The humid night air soothed Te'ijal's skin instantly as she crossed into the Underworld. As much as she loved her adventures in the land above, the realm of darkness was her true home.  People like her husband couldn't understand the appeal of the darkness, of the everlasting night and shadowy corners full of twisted and wonderful things. 

She enjoyed the long walk to Ghed'ahre, pausing by her old house near the front of the city. But that wasn't why she was here today. The library loomed large at the edge of town, with several floors dedicated to preserving centuries' worth of books. It was a common misconception of the living that the undead were also brain-dead, but since most of them were hundreds of years old and didn't concern themselves with the time-consuming chore of surviving, it was only natural that they often developed academic interests. The Ghed'ahre library was the largest in all of Aia, second only to the Elvish library in Delamere. 

The main lobby was milling with undead creatures of all sorts. Ghosts visiting from Casket Hill rifled through books, possibly hoping to find information about a lost loved one. A group of darklings was hovering near the highest shelf on the bookcase, poring over a large volume and whispering about a prophecy (word on the street was that the prophecy wouldn't come to pass for hundreds of years, but it was never to early to start preparing). Te'ijal approached the vampire at the front desk, a stout, bald man who was one of the oldest in Ghed'ahre. "Could I speak with Gyendal Ravenfoot, please?" 

"Professor Ravenfoot is currently occupied with his research. Please come back later."

"He can't make an exception for his own sister?" 

"Te'ijal? You're back so soon," said the vampire, taking off his glasses. "In that case, you'll find him on the third floor." 

Te'ijal wasted no time in racing up the stairs. The third floor was nearly empty, save for one cloaked figure tucked away between too bookshelves. "Gyendal." 

The vampire looked up from his reading. "Te'ijal!" Gyendal threw down his book and enveloped his sister in a crushing embrace. 

"Sister, how long has it been?" 

"Too long. Almost fifty years."

"Ah, yes, I've been traveling in the Overworld."

"You know, I live there now. Just got the Pendragon's old place in Sedona."

"The Arishta Isles? I prefer the Mainland myself." Gyendal pulled out two chairs and sat down. "So, what brings you here? Besides wanting to catch up with your little brother."

Te'ijal joined her brother at the table. "I have a...problem, that may require magic. And no one I know is more skilled at magic than you, Gyen. Galahad-"

Gyendal rolled his eyes, not even trying to mask his reaction. "That human again? You've been obsessed with him for a century. Humans aren't pets, Tei. They're vicious creatures that would like nothing more than to murder the lot of us."

"Coming from someone who spent the last half-century in the Overworld," Te'ijal scowled. "Besides, this one's my husband. Will you help me or not?" Gyendal sighed, and nodded in assent. "Thank you, brother. I...I need to know if there's any way of turning a vampire back into a human." 

Gyendal stood up suddenly. "You can't turn into a human, Te'ijal!" 

Te'ijal followed suit, slamming her hands on the table as she did so. "Not me, you idiot! I did think of it at first, but I could never give up this - immortality, inhuman strength, Ghed'ahre. It's entirely too much fun. There are some things you just can't sacrifice. But Galahad," Te'ijal lowered her voice and sat down, pushing her white-streaked bangs out of her face. "Galahad will never be happy as one of us. He doesn't love me, so nothing I give him will ever be enough." 

Gyendal pondered for a moment. "There might be something I can do." He led Te'ijal to a bookcase full of dark magic-related items. "During my travels, I learned of a recently deceased human sorcerer named Mordred Darkthrop," he began, pointing to a diagram of an orb in a textbook. "He's creating a set of orbs, one of darkness and one of light. But there is a rumor that he created another orb, one which can make the undead live again. I've begun researching more about these orbs, but I haven't found their location. When I return to the Overworld, I'll make every effort to find it for you."

"Thank you, brother." Te'ijal turned to leave, and paused. "I still don't know what to do about Galahad. Even after all this time, he still acts like a human. I don't understand..." 

Gyendal scoffed, lost in a passage about the Orb of Darkness. "Humans, so sentimental. I'm sure you'll think of something."


A heavy feeling of guilt weighed down Galahad like a second suit of armor as he traipsed through the forest surrounding Ghed'ahre. He had chased his own wife away to the Underworld with his petulant temper. A century ago, such an abhorrent act would have been unthinkable to him. Contrary to her infernal nature, his wife had been...kind. Galahad would never have thought a demon could learn to love, but maybe he was wrong. Or maybe his wife wasn't a demon after all. 

"Te'ijal?" He called. The woods didn't even give an echo in response. 

A scream pierced the night.

Galahad's sword was drawn in an instant, ready to defend. He ran faster through the forest. When he saw the victim, his sword dropped.

His wife lay on the ground, blood staining her pale skin, a stake jammed through her ribcage.


He rushed to her in an instant. "Te'ijal." It was the first time he'd called her by her name in...he couldn't even remember how long. His hand moved to the stake in her chest, but he was no healer. It settled behind her head instead, cradling it as he lifted her into his lap. "Te'ijal, I'm so sorry."

The eyes and lips that were usually so bright and full of fire were now faded to a hue weaker than that of the dried blood. Her lips twisted into a serene smile, one he'd never seen on her before. Even as her life bled out in his arms, Galahad couldn't help but think she was beautiful. He wanted to ask who did this to her - chase after them, make them pay with his sword - but he feared she didn't have many moments left. A hot tear pricked at his eyes. Galahad blinked it away in surprise, but another one only fell in its place. He thought vampires couldn't cry, but the tears had come anyway. 


The voice didn't come from the woman in his arms, but from several feet away. It sounded like...but no, it couldn't be. 

"Galahad, I heard your voice. Stop hiding."


Galahad had lived twice as long as most humans, but the sight of the woman who was currently dying in his arms running up to him was both the most relieving and the strangest. "Husband, what...oh."

Te'ijal reached for her bow and arrow, and fired a shot into her own chest. The woman in Galahad's arms morphed into a small blue darkling, who snickered and jumped away before Galahad could stick him with his sword.

"I overheard you in the library, Tei...just wait til I tell the Professor about this!" The darkling cackled and skittered away into the night.

Te'ijal reached a hand out to her husband, who, too shaken to stand up on his own, gladly accepted. "Galahad, are you alright? Did that pest hurt you?" 

"No, it didn't do anything," Galahad shook his head. "Actually, yes. I thought you were dead. I almost had a heart attack!" Galahad was in serious danger of either shaking his wife in frustration or grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her passionately, so he instead enveloped her in a fierce hug.

Te'ijal didn't know how to respond. Galahad hadn't hugged her in...well, ever. So she did the only thing she could do - she hugged him back, gripping him like she really was dying and he was the only thing anchoring her to the world. 

"Foolish husband, you know vampires don't have hearts." 

As they stood there holding each other, each of their faces tucked into the other's necks so neither could see the tears running down their faces, both decided to ignore the inaccuracy of that statement.


"Husband, I have a gift for you," Te'ijal said as she joined Galahad for breakfast. Neither of them actually needed to eat, but they had found it was a routine they enjoyed to help pass the time in their new home. A glass of cow's blood for Te'ijal, coffee for Galahad, and toast and star peaches for them both. 

"Is it another house?" Galahad joked.

Te'ijal merely raised her eyebrows cryptically and presented him with a small box. "Open it," she encouraged. Curiosity piqued, Galahad complied. 

Inside was a necklace with a glowing pendant. It was the same one that his wife had worn around her neck since before they'd been married. His fingers were pulled to it, almost magnetically.

His wife had given him his soul back.

"Do you like it?" Te'ijal asked, feigning nonchalance. "I got it from a lovely Necromancer's shop. I was thinking of keeping it for myself, but I thought it matched so well with your lovely eyes, and-"

"Te'ijal," he cut her off with a hand over hers. "Thank you." 

Galahad turned the pendant over in his hands. The contract binding him to Te'ijal had technically been voided when she married him, but she'd still worn his soul around her neck. After all these years, his soul was once again his own. 

He leaned over and fastened it around her neck. "But I think you'd better keep it."

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When Moonpeace pretends to dedicate a fic to you but she's actually trying to kill you with feelings T.T

I loved that this was set in AV2 era, I never see fics of these two from that game! (Probably because they weren't playable characters but still!) And it was cool how you set up AV3's plot, this could fit right in to the Aveyond series and I love it. 

As an older sister, the part between Gyendal and Te'ijal melted me. And as a lover of fluff (and a little bit of angst but don't tell), all the parts between Te'ijal and Galahad were gorgeous. It didn't seem OOC at all to me (though I guess I always picture characters a little more sensitive than others do, maybe just because I'm such a huge sap myself), and the way they tried to make up their mistakes to each other was perfect.

And you included my favorite plot point for these two ♥♥ The soul pendant thing ♥♥ You wrote it wonderfully. Thank you for this!! You should have dreams more often XD

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:kawaii-love: I was kinda in a bad mood for the last couple of hours and seeing this review totally made my night, ahh

I'm glad you thought that the setup to AV3 worked well (I wasn't sure about the timelines), and that the sibling moments and fluff worked for you. And I tend to headcanon characters as kinder and more sensitive too, just cause I want to believe the best of them. And you inspired me to include the soul pendant part, so I'm glad! 

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*sees status update about the fic being posted* I NEED TO GO TO MOONPEACE'S FICS. NOW.

Um I really need to thank you for writing this T.T the beginning was beautiful and the rest arghhhhhh *dead* I LOVED THE PART WITH TE'IJAL AND GYENDAL! SO MUCH! I knew they were okay towards each other before the events of Orbs or Magic. And then Galahad returned to the underworld and OMG- I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK! This scene was SO well written! Sorry if I'm sounding crazy but, I love this. Also the end... THE END WAS AMAZING ARGH, ENOUGH SAID :heart::kawaii-sad:

thanks for writing this!:kawaii-happy:

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So uh...I was in a weird mood today, and I wrote this to 'productively' vent my energy instead of taking it out by being weird to my friends XD This is pure, utter crack. Idk what to say on this one. 

Yemite teleported into the church basement with a shower of sparks, striking the prisoner out of his slumber.
Gyendal emitted a shriek. Damn human vocal chords.
"Quiet, a queen needs her beauty sleep," Lydia mumbled from an adjacent cell. Yemite shut her  up with a silence spell. She was here to deal with one insufferable mage, but she was not prepared to handle two of them.
"Oh, you," Gyendal mumbled, still cloaked in the grogginess of sleep. "What is it you want, darkling?"
"I'm here to talk with you about my Mistress, vampire," Yemite said. She grinned mischievously. "Or can I not call you that anymore?"
Gyendal scoffed and lay back down, deliberately turning away from Yemite. "If you're here to insult me, I'm going to go back to sleep."
Yemite leapt over the walls enclosing the cell, landing nearly on top of Gyendal. She pointed her scythe against his throat, laughing as he realized he was effectively trapped. "Now that I've got your attention, I'd like to discuss Mel."
"Hey, I never wanted to kill the girl! All I wanted was to help her realize her destiny as the ruler of a dark empire, same as you!"
Yemite pressed her scythe more firmly against Gyendal's throat. "Don't play coy! I know what you're after, even if my Mistress herself seems to be oblivious. Chasing her across Aia, obsessing over her for three years, all but asking her to rule the world with you-"
"What are you getting at?!"
"You're clearly in love with the Queen!"
Gyendal choked, and it wasn't just because of Yemite's blade threatening to decapitate him. "Mel?! Don't be ridiculous. She's a foolish, stubborn whelp of a girl incapable of realizing her own power without my help!" He paused as Yemite's expression darkened. "And my interest in her was purely villainous, nothing more!"
"As her eternal servant in darkness, it is my job to protect my Mistress from unwanted romantic advances. Edward I can tolerate on good days, but you are...substandard," Yemite sniffed.
Gyendal wrested Yemite's scythe from her grip, hopping out of bed to face her standing up. He may have lost his magic, and his immortality, but he still had some dignity left. "What part of 'I'm not in love with the Darkthrop girl' do you not understand?! Besides, you're one to talk. Waiting on her day and night, falling over her every word, calling her 'Mistress'...if anyone's in love with her, it's you!"
Yemite flinched as if Gyendal had struck her. "How dare you make this about me?! am her servant. What you are suggesting is so...so...unprofessional!" 
Gyendal shook his head. "Capturing the Darkthrop heir to plunge the world into darkness...it's a full time job. If I were in love with Mel, I would be just as unprofessional as you. Are you sure you're not projecting, little darkling?"
Yemite stammered, knowing the ex-vampire was undeniably wrong, but unable to prove it. She settled for trying to get her scythe back, but Gyendal was a foot and a half taller, and easily held it over her head. 
"Give...that...back!" She fluttered her wings in frustration, but the cell was too cramped for her to simply fly up and retrieve it. Gyendal twirled the scythe above her head, chuckling at this amusing turn of events in his favor.
Yemite was suddenly struck with a wonderfully wicked idea. Making a mental note to thank Heptitus for the inspiration later, she curled her tail around Gyendal's leg and pulled, causing him to fall flat in his back. The scythe would've staked him straight through the heart,  had Yemite not pounced on top of him and caught it mid-air. She twirled the scythe as he had just moments ago, glaring down at him with a predatory smirk.
Gyendal cleared his throat. "You can, um, get off me anytime, you know."
"And let you roam free to pursue my Queen? I think not."
"I'm not sure I'm the one she needs protection from. Her devious 'servant', on the other hand..." Gyendal poked Yemite in the chest, for which he earned a smack on the hand from Yemite's tail. She swatted him playfully a few more times before he grabbed the point. Gotcha, darkling, his smirk seemed to say.
Yemite matched his smirk. "Y'know what...forget Mel. I think I've found a better target," she hummed, running her claw down Gyendal's cheek.
Gyendal propped himself up on one elbow, letting his other hand release Yemite's tail so he could grab one of her horns. "Agreed."
Their lips clashed together an instant later, almost giving both of them a concussion with the force of it. The scythe clattered to the ground as Yemite devoted both her hands (and wings) to wrapping around Gyendal, all thoughts of Mel momentarily pushed aside.
Well, at least until the next morning, when she went to check on the prisoners and found Yemite and Gyendal curled up on the floor together.
She'd grilled them both, but neither had let slip even a single word. The rest of the prisoners were at a loss too.
Mel hadn't even thought to ask Lydia, who had been awake for the whole thing. If only Yemite had used Sleep instead of Silence.
-the end-

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Oh goodness, I can't explain how much I love this! This was written extremely well and it set the mood for both romance and also humor xD

I never expected that GxY twist in the end omg hahahaha so funny yet so CUTE ALDGLSGDLFKFHRKDFHKDBX

Write more, woman! 

... I spot some MxE

-I love you even more now-

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This. is. brilliant!!!

XD XD XD I have been played, I was totally expecting MxG from the beginning but that bait and switch you pulled was so perfect I couldn't help but laugh. Incredibly cracky, with some fluffies and a hint of ExM, so perfect!!!!

I applaud your weird mood writing, you should get into moods like that more often:D

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@Mu11berry You know me too well XD

So I wrote another fic today instead of studying lolol

Unless you've read/played/watched Fate or are familiar with ancient literature, you might want to glance at this if you want this fic to make any sense: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/TheEpicOfGilgamesh

(Scroll down to the third to last paragraph before the tropes list for the most relevant part)


Summary: So, you know how Ishtar was an actual Babylonian goddess of beauty and war who was also a major character in the first great piece of literature, The Epic of Gilgamesh? What if that Ishtar and the nymph of compassion/Snow Queen were one and the same? Post-AV2 crossover-y crack.

"Hey Ishtar, remember that time you almost caused an apocalypse because you had a crush on the world's first heroic figure?"

"Shut up, Heptitus. That was millennia ago."

Heptitus cackled. "Well, you also almost caused an apocalypse just the other day. Two near-apocalypses. And they say I'm the troublemaker."

"The second one was your fault." Ishtar began summoning ice crystals to hurtle at her sister, but the skies roiled angrily before she could form a proper snowball. "Alright mom, I get it," she huffed, and let the snow dissipate. 

The two nymphs had been grounded to Aveyond by the Goddess until they learned to get along. So far it had been a year, and they hadn't killed each other. 

If Heptitus kept this up, that fact was about to change.

"Nymph of compassion? More like nymph of overreacting. You really don't handle rejection well, do you sis?"

"Heptitus, I'm warning you-"

"Oh daddy, Gilgamesh didn't marry me, how shall I live?" Heptitus mocked in a high falsetto that sounded nothing like Ishtar's voice but infuriated her anyway, causing a blush to spread across her face. "Oh, I know, better send down a raging bull and cause a famine for my 'beloved' people."

"And I suppose stealing your sister's spirit so she'll turn evil and almost plunge the world into eternal winter is soooo much better," Ishtar snapped. 

"I'm the nymph of wickedness, what do you expect? It's kind of in the job description," Heptitus shrugged as if to say, 'I'm evil, what are you gonna do about it?'

"You're just jealous I upstaged you before you were even born," the former Snow Queen sniffed. 

"You wish," Heptitus growled. "That wasn't wickedness, that was just anger issues and hormones. I have half a mind to tell the Mountain King when we get out of here," she added.

"Don't you dare...!"

Heptitus laughed up until a bolt of lightning struck just inches away from her, setting the tip of her witch's hat on fire. Now it was Ishtar's turn to laugh. 

She doused the flame on her head with a grumble. "Hey Ishtar, what do you say we have a little fun?"

Ishtar considered this for a moment. "Every shred of common sense is telling me to decline that offer, but since there's nothing to do here except visit that stupid cat village and watch bunnies hop around, I'll say yes."

Heptitus jumped around Ishtar in manic glee. "This is gonna be so much fun," she squealed.

"...I'm afraid to ask, but what are you planning?" 

The wicked witch held out her hands to create a portal. "I'm going to summon an old flame of yours."

"You don't mean...?!"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"No no no. Bad idea. BAD IDEA. Oh Goddess, is that him? He looks amazing for a dead man...I mean, close the portal, quickly!" Ishtar frantically searched for somewhere to hide, but the open plains of Aveyond didn't offer much. 

"Who dares summon the King of Heroes?" 

At the sound of that voice, Ishtar nearly leapt out of her skin. She tried to disappear into her dress, flipping the hood halfway over her face.

Heptitus bowed to the golden man who had materialized in front of her. "Oh great Gilgamesh, king of kings...or heroes, whatever...your humble subject believes there is someone you'd like to meet." Her tone was cloyingly sweet and dripping with sarcasm, but Gilgamesh seemed not to notice the insincerity. 

"You may rise, mongrel," Gilgamesh ordered. "Be grateful I have deigned to grace you with my presence. Now, who is this worthy prospect?"

Hepatitis turned to Ishtar, who hesitantly lifted the hood of her dress. "Hey, remember me?"

The man's regal and arrogant posture deflated instantly. He turned around and dove for the portal, ignoring Ishtar's shouts of "I promise I won't get your best friend killed this time I've been to therapy won't you reconsider the marriage proposal Gil please-"

Ishtar punched Heptitus in the arm. "That jerk! He wouldn't even speak to me! Me, a goddess! If he wasn't already dead, I'd kill him!" 

"Calm down, sis. Compassion, remember?" Heptitus pat her sister reassuringly on the back and tried to hold back the cackles threatening to burst forth. 

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On 10/16/2017 at 1:35 PM, moonpeace said:

Ishtar considered this for a moment. "Every shred of common sense is telling me to decline that offer, but since there's nothing to do here except visit that stupid cat village and watch bunnies hop around, I'll say yes."

All of that was hilarious, but that up there ^^ was my favorite line XD XD XD XD

Also, yayy for AV2 fanfic!!

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I was updating my AV stuff on AO3 when I realized I'd never posted the Mel/Gyendal fic I wrote for @Queen-of-Ice101's birthday in my fic thread. It's probably my favorite fic that I've written, so I'm gonna go ahead and post it over two months later. Whoops.


Based on this prompt: "A and B are given seats next to each other at the movies. Before they can nope out the seats around them are filled with children. They have to negotiate who gets the armrest for a two hour romcom."

Now replace A and B with Mel and Gyendal, and romcom with Star Wars.

Birthday gift for Queen_of_Ice101.

In hindsight, Mel should've known the whole plan was a bad idea.

Edward and Stella had offered to treat her to a special showing of Star Wars on the big screen for her birthday. No big deal, right? They'd invited Te'ijal and Galahad, but somehow Te'ijal had mailed her the wrong ticket, and she'd woken up at 11:00 on her big day to six missed calls and several texts asking where she was, why wasn't she here, did she want to miss the 10:00 movie?

Just once, Mel wished something in her life would go right.

But she'd be damned if she was going to miss out on that movie. It was her birthday, and she didn't intend to let a bad start suck the fun out of the whole day. Besides, Mel was never the type to mind doing things alone.

At least, she thought she'd be alone.

Mel arrived with enough time to pick the best seat. Slightly left of center, a few rows down from the top, the one she always picked. Even better, the theater was almost empty, so she had a few minutes to put her feet up on the seat in front of her and pop in some headphones before the noisy crowds arrived.

"Excuse me, could you move your feet please? I need to get through," said a man, and Mel was so zoned out that she didn't notice who he was until he sat down in the seat next to her.

Oh no. Not him.

Anyone but him.

He seemed to have the same realization at the same moment as Mel, because they both sprang out of their seats as if jolted by an electric current. But as fate would have it, a large family began to make its way down the aisle, preventing them from dispersing to choose different seats as far away from each other as possible. The stream of people moving through forced them to press awkwardly against each other, which the many rowdy children seemed to find great humor in.

When Mel turned around, she was disappointed but not entirely surprised to find that the family had taken all the seats on either side of them.

"Well, it looks like one of us is going to have to move," she said matter-of-factly. There was no debate: the sky was blue, water was wet, and Mel Darkthrop and Gyendal Ravenfoot were not going to sit next to each other during a two-plus hour movie.

Gyendal avoided Mel's eyes and looked idly at the preview playing on the screen. "Yes, one of us can move while I stay here."

"Hey, no fair! I sat here first!" Mel crossed her arms, causing a shower of popcorn to spill out of the bag in her hands and onto the head of the person sitting below her.

"So? I always sit here, and you're the one who suggested moving anyway. You do it," he scowled.

"I always sit here too! It's my birthday, anyway. I shouldn't have to move," Mel rebutted, her voice rising in in pitch.

"I didn't know it was your birthday," Gyendal answered, matching Mel's tone. "And I don't care!"

"Hey you two, shut up and sit down!" called the person below them. Several people across the theater murmured in agreement, one threatening to call the manager, and a few shouting words that might've offended Mel and Gyendal if they weren't so busy being offended by each other's presence.

Mel and Gyendal stood at an impasse for a few more tense moments, neither willing to be the one to give in and move to another aisle, before begrudgingly sitting back down.

"This is all your fault, you know," Mel murmured.

"No, it's clearly yours," Gyendal bit back.

"No, yours," Mel whispered nearly inaudibly, not willing to let him have the last word. She was going to have to put her argument with Gyendal aside, though, because the movie was starting. Return of the Jedi was one of Mel's favorite films, and she wasn't about to let Te'ijal's insufferable brother ruin it for her.

The movie distracted Mel from her undesirable company for awhile, until she got bored about twenty minutes in (the movie was great, but the beginning was undeniably slow) and was brought back to reality by Gyendal's obnoxiously loud chewing. He was shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth, making a complete pig of himself, and assaulting the ears of everyone around him.

"Could you eat any louder?" Mel hissed.

"Shh, m'watching," Gyendal said, pointing at the screen for emphasis. As if Mel was an idiot and didn't know where one's eyes were supposed to be in a movie theater.

"Pssh, yeah, of course you'd be watching extra intently at THIS part." Leia was now clad in a metal bikini, waiting to be rescued from her enslavement to Jabba the Hutt. "The slave Leia scene is so overrated. I bet you imagine every woman you see in that awful getup."

"I do not." Gyendal turned to glare at her, and turned away just as quickly. It was too dark to tell, but was that a blush on his face?


"Actually, I don't particularly care for this scene either. But unlike SOME people, I came here to watch the movie and not the person sitting next to me!" Gyendal punctuated his sentence with an extra large mouthful of popcorn, which (to Mel's delight) couldn't fit completely in his mouth.

Mel opened her mouth to respond, but anything she said would only validate his argument. She turned back to the movie and responded with loud chewing of her own. Two could play at that game.

In fact, two could play at that game for a surprisingly long time. The movie was halfway through, Mel was already almost done with her large popcorn, and she wasn't sure she could take another bite. Judging by the decreased frequency of Gyendal's mouthfuls, he was facing the same situation. Not wanting to be the first to quit, she "accidentally" spilled what was left of her bag on Gyendal's lap.

"Sorry," she said, in a tone of voice that was unapologetically unapologetic.

Gyendal angrily brushed the popcorn off, sending most of it flying into the hair of the guy below them. Mel really owed the man an apology, she supposed, but she wasn't sure if she would be able to look him in the eye once the movie was over.

"You're not sorry," he grumbled. Mel's only response was to shrug as she sipped (loudly, of course) from her drink.

However, the petty argument was once again forgotten as the movie sucked her in. Luke had just told Leia that he was her brother, and was about to confront Vader. The plot was finally getting to the good part. Mel sat forward in her seat and gripped the armrest in anticipation of the action to come.

Except when she reached for the armrest, she ended up with a handful of Gyendal's arm instead. She pulled back faster than if she'd put her hand on a hot stove.

"That's my armrest," Mel grunted as she elbowed his arm.

"That's stupid. Everyone knows you use the left armrest," Gyendal said, elbowing back.

They spent several minutes shoving back and forth until Gyendal's elbow missed the mark, causing his hand to shoot straight onto Mel's thigh.

Both of them spent a pregnant pause staring at where Gyendal's hand met Mel's leg, their eyes widening comically, blushes rising to both of their cheeks, before Mel belatedly slapped Gyendal's hand away. "Hands to yourself!" she exclaimed, her voice embarrassingly high in pitch.

Of course, his hand returned to its place on the armrest. But Mel wasn't about to be denied her rightful space, so she planted her hand on top of his in the hope that he'd move away.

He didn't.

Neither of them were willing to give the other the satisfaction of moving. At least, that's what they'd told themselves at the time. They'd later deny noticing that the other armrests were perfectly available.

They stayed that way for several minutes. At the scene where Vader removed his mask, Mel involuntarily tensed her hand - something about seeing the villain you'd grown to hate so vulnerable unsettled her every time - and her smaller fingers slipped between the cracks in Gyendal's. But this time, she didn't pull away immediately. It was almost reluctant, the way she unlaced her hand from his and returned it to her lap.

When Han and Leia kissed after the final battle, Mel made sure to avoid the armrest entirely. She didn't even look in that direction. She made a point to face the other way, actually, because sappy romance scenes were dumb and so was Gyendal.

Then, the movie was finally over. The telltale credits music blared over the speakers and the lights came back to life. People were already starting to get up and leave, but Mel was rooted to her seat in shock.

"I cannot believe," she said to no one in particular, "that they replaced the original footage of Vader's Force ghost with young Anakin. I know they changed a lot in the remastered version, but really, right at the end? Is nothing sacred?"

"They can't NOT use young Anakin," replied Gyendal. Of course he had to contradict her. "The original movie used some random old guy. Replacing him with young Anakin creates continuity across the movies, and emphasizes how Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker are different people."

"Yeah, but now they tarnished the original trilogy with the prequels!"

"I should've known you'd be one of those sheep who can't see the value in the prequels," Gyendal sniffed.

"Well, I should've known you'd have no taste," Mel scoffed. "And I don't even know why I'm discussing my favorite movie with someone who hates me," she added, more to herself than anything.

"I don't hate you, Mel."

Mel turned to face him, shocked by both the words and the unexpected honesty in them.

"I mean, you're the most annoying person I've ever encountered, and I don't know how my sister puts up with you, and you have no sense politically, but I don't...hate you," he finished lamely.

"Um," Mel faltered. "I don't hate you, too."

"You two need to get a room already," shouted a voice from the bottom of the stairs. It was the guy she'd spilled popcorn on, several times.

"Shut up," they shouted back, almost in unison.

In hindsight, Mel supposed they deserved that comment, with all they'd put him through. But then again, in hindsight, she supposed he'd been onto something.

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