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What Makes You Different

Chapter 6: Fresh Wounds

Summary:

A long time coming, but Thancred is finally home.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Thancred Waters woke up for the first time in what felt like months. Soreness enveloped his entire being as he moved his arms—

As he moved his arms.

He found himself instinctively reaching for his neck, searching for the phantom weight of the crystal necklace that gave Lahabrea the means with which to possess him. When he touched bare skin, a smile formed. He let out a laugh, the threat of tears pressing down on him. He was not sure where he was, but he knew that he was safe in some capacity.

“…Thancred?” A familiar voice called, and it took everything within him to reign in the tears. He still had an image to uphold, and hysterically giddy was not present in the description. He pretended to rub the sleep from his eyes and looked over to see Y’shtola moving towards him from another occupied cot. “This is most welcome news.”

Thancred pushed himself up, “Y’shto—” his arms buckled, and the words caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit at the sudden exertion. She quickly placed a cup in his hands and a steadying hand on his back, sitting him up as he drank.

It was more than just the physical steadying that her hand provided. It was also that seeing Y’shtola sent a wave of relief through him, steadying him mentally. He felt as though he was on solid ground for the first time in ages, the familiarity of it all like a worn path that he had walked a hundred times.

She pulled her hand back once Thancred was up on his own, tail flicking with unmistakable happiness, “You are awake sooner than expected. Might I ask how you are feeling?”

The words flowed without hesitation as he spoke, “You know I am wont to excel at most tasks I undertake, milady.” He flashed a smile but felt unease knotting within him. His charming persona, molded and tailored throughout the years, no longer felt right, warped from being worn by someone else. Lahabrea’s words echoed in his head, and he hoped that this was just something that would pass with time. More seriously, he added, “I can easily say this is the best I have felt in quite a while, despite the injuries.”

She moved to a table near the tent’s entry and returned with a tray of light foods and a pitcher of water, setting both down before she took a seat herself. “That is great to hear. Know still that you will be monitored heavily in the following weeks. We know not the lingering effects of Ascian possession, lest we also forget your physical injuries.”

He watched Y’shtola move about, only taking his eyes off her long enough to catch the other occupant of the tent, and when she returned, he reached for the food without thinking and forced himself not to eat too greedily despite how welcome the food was. He gestured to Dorien, not looking up as he asked, “How is he?”

Y’shtola looked over her shoulder and made a face, not easing him in the slightest, “Physically? His injuries are similar to yours, though with varying quantity and severity. He has a fractured leg that the chirurgeons have tended to. He fell asleep shortly after everything and has awoken a few times, but never for too long. We are certain he is just sleeping through the worst of it.” She then gestured towards the flap of the tent. “I should fetch the others whilst you eat. They will be most excited to hear you have awoken. I am sure you would like some time to yourself also.”

He wanted nothing less than some time to himself.

Still, he reluctantly nodded, so the miqo’te woman stood and stepped out. The falling fabric set a heavy weight upon him, so he looked to Dorien, hoping his familiar presence would help ground him the same way Y’shtola did.

While it did ease him in that regard, seeing Dorien brought its own stream of emotions. He thought back to the moments when Lahabrea would pull him back to consciousness as if he were pulling Thancred’s head from the waters where he was drowning. At first, they were breaths of fresh air. That was until he realized how temporary they were, until the air burned his lungs, and he preferred, no, wished, that he was underwater again because at least that didn’t hurt.

The memory of Lahabrea using his voice, his face to say that Dorien was too much kept repeating in his head. He made Dorien think that Thancred did not welcome those quirks that he only seemed to show in private… Some wounds would be slower to heal than others.

There was also another problem. There was a realization that he had come to at some point that sat with him uncomfortably. He told Dorien when they first made their arrangement that he did not want romance. He was excited at the prospect of their occasional dalliance at first.

Thancred then found that everything came easy with the adventurer. He did not have to think too hard about their interactions, and he realized now that maybe he should have. For what came easiest without realizing was how much he had fallen for him.

He was not sure if this was better than being alone.

He forced himself to stand, feeling the weight of his body on what felt like new legs. Taking a long look at the adventurer, he stepped out of the tent.

Good gods, man. How will you manage if you cannot sit in solitude for more than a few minutes?

He strode several paces, closed his eyes, and took in the tranquil camp atmosphere. The sound of people milling about eased him, and it was not much longer before the sounds of his friends could be heard. When asked why he was moving about despite his injuries, he told them he wished not to wake Dorien.

Which he would say was not a complete lie.

They moved away from the tent and spoke elsewhere, and Thancred found himself smiling, laughing even, for the first time in ages. There was a comfort in the thought that his words were his. That and the fact that the memory of him would live with them after this and not the memory of someone pretending to be him. Those things made all this real.

Thancred noticed that Y’shtola stayed back to walk with him as everyone parted ways. Maybe she knew something, but the bard was happy he did not need to ask. He side-eyed the miqo’te woman, smirking as he said, “Are you walking me back to my tent? Why, if I did not know any better, I would think you were starting to favor me, milady. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

He could almost hear her rolling her eyes as she replied, “I would say ‘Only in your dreams,’ though I would much prefer to be absent from those. You could say that I am making sure you stay out of trouble, though I also was planning on checking in on Dorien once more before turning in.”

He looked in the direction of the tent, remembering his friend once more, though he never really forgot about him, “Yes, of course. If he is merely sleeping, is there cause to check in on him so?”

Y’shtola sighed, stopping near him. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, ears falling flat, “It is but simple concern over his welfare after this last mission. I wish to speak with him, but I know he will likely not reach out independently. He smiles so that others need not feel burdened by his concerns. He keeps his feelings close to his chest, and the armor is far too thick.” She side-eyed him then, “I am sure you understand.”

Thancred tensed at that, knowing everything she spoke of all too well, for he was doing precisely that even as they spoke. He knew she knew too. Y’shtola always knew. He opened the flap for her and dipped into the silent tent, wishing her a good night as she continued her business.

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He did not recall falling asleep, but consciousness came at him swiftly, a cold sweat on his brow and a frustrated knot in his stomach. He sat himself up and turned on a lantern, and his head snapped up at a sudden movement, only to meet a pair of green eyes looking at him with equal shock.

“You’re awake,” they said simultaneously. They both stopped and tried again, “I did not expec—” “I did not mea—” “I’m sorry.”

Dorien could not contain the laugh that escaped him as he looked away, reddening. Thancred, too looked away, “I did not mean to wake you.”

The mage spoke without pause, “You didn’t.” Then, waited before adding, “I am…glad you are well though, my friend.”

He did his best to temper the grin, happy to at least have this again, “I am too.”

Notes:

Nnno...Song...this week...probably.

Dorien gets a solid 5 lines.

I have a lot of thoughts on post-Laha Thancred.

Notes:

Come over to my twitter where I post doodles and incredibly unhinged content on the daily!

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