Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flynn knows he’s being overly loud as he’s hauled down the hallway and thrown into a cell, but he thinks it’s only appropriate. “Not even a drink?” he yells at his captors as they walk away, but they just ignore him. Perhaps not the best comment to make with what seem like vampires, but still worth a shot, right?

Instead all he can do is watch as they move out of sight, before sagging against the bars. “Come to the land of the dead, Flynn. I’m dealing with my dad who I thought was dead but isn’t and I need some support, Flynn. Your boyfriend’s stationed over here somewhere too, you’ll get to see him more, Flynn. What could go wrong, Flynn?” he grumbles into the air, frustration shrinking him down until the clank of chains from behind him makes him jump up straight again.

What he sees when he turns isn’t what he expected. Admittedly he’s already figured out that nothing here is like he expected, but a giant spider type thing is not anywhere on the list. Especially not one trussed up in chains, dragged away from her reach at four locked points.

And especially not one that appears to be speaking to him in a language he damn well understands. “A mortal, but not the maw walker. Interesting.”

“That’s me, I’m interesting” slips out of his mouth before he can stop it, his mind working overtime and not on controlling his tongue. He remembers the different, strange looking ‘people’ on the floating city Tae had brought him to, being told that they were the souls of the dead. He hadn’t quite pictured giant spiders, but there’d been a lot of different shapes and sizes, and it takes all types Flynn knows.

“Actually, I’m Flynn. Flynn Fairwind, at your service” he says, and he bows slightly, just for the novelty of it. “And who do I have the pleasure of being locked up with?”

“I’m more curious how you ended up here“ the thing responds, not answering, and well, fine. He knows the whole mortal thing kind of makes him stand out here.

“Apparently you can buy anything if you pay that Cartel enough. Which I guess I should have gathered, given the name ‘Cartel’, now that I think about it” he mutters half to himself, even as he slowly moves forward to take a look at her chains where they’re stretched away from the spider’s long legs and carefully locked. The thing scares the crap out of him to look at, but the enemy of my enemy and all that.

The hiss that comes from the spider thing almost sounds like laughter, so he takes it as such and gives the spider his most dazzling smile. “And you still haven’t told me what to call my cellmate.”

“Kearnan the Blade” she responds and Flynn? Flynn’s heart almost stops.

No, not stops, the opposite of that, it’s beating so hard that it echoes in his ears. He’s sure she can tell. It’s hard to read body language on a spider, but there are shoulders and there is posture and those have both stiffened up at his reaction.

“And was that what they called you before you were here?” he asks, softly.

“Close enough” she says, avoiding the question, because of course this is a she and of course this is why he’s here. He nods in response and turns again to the locks, a lot more intently now.

“Well then, Blade” he finally says, because it’s easier to say. “How about we escape this joint and you show me where all you spider ladies go to drink?”

This hiss is definitely not laughter. “And why should I trust you?” she asks. A very good question. A very suspicious question. He shouldn’t be surprised.

With a sigh he sits down on the bench in this tiny cell. They’ve left him his favourite coat, though emptied the pockets. Truly inconvenient, because he could use the flask right about now. They’ve left him nothing but the clothes he was wearing, but it’s the boot that he’s focused on right now. Lifting one leg across his lap to carefully tap the heel out of place, opening the void inside, and carefully extracting the small token.

It’s relatively nondescript to the eye, no flashy gold or jewels like he prefers, but he sees her freeze the moment he takes that little SI-7 token out of its hiding spot and any uncertainty in his mind is washed away by that recognition. He twists it along his knuckles, letting it cascade down his fingers for luck before hiding it back in its spot.

He expects questions, and that's what he gets. “Got anything in the other one?”

Ok. He wasn’t expecting that question. But it’s a good one, and he lets himself smile knowingly as he switches legs, slides this compartment open, and lets the lock picks drop carefully into his palm.

Chapter Text

She lets him be for the first lock, even though he can feel her watching. Tidemother he can really feel her watching, how many eyes does she have anyways? There’s no sign of the guards returning though so he just moves along to the second one. He’d not given them a reason to return, after all.

“Be so loud they’ll never expect you to be quiet” the words startle him before he shrugs, slightly, eyes still on the second lock. She’s not the first to have caught him at it, but the way she says it is eerie and almost familiar.

He’s trying not to think about why that is right now. Ruins his concentration. “It works” he responds instead.

“Especially for a Kul Tiran. Your people aren’t quite as suited for subtle” and he can’t help but smile at that. “Also, not technically part of the Alliance.”

“Things change. Prodigal daughters return.” He is only half listening because he’s almost got it and just a little more ... there. There’s satisfaction in the click as the lock pops open. Only two more to go.

She hums in response to that, obviously thinking. One leg taps rhythmically on the floor, freer to move with the chains partially unbound. He wonders if it’s a nervous tic. It sure is making him nervous.

“So how’d you piss these guys off?” he has to ask to try and fill the noise with something other than that tapping.

She hisses again. He thinks it’s laughter. “I’m good at pissing our enemies off.”

Definitely laughter. He’s getting better at translating spider hiss noises. Go him.

I’m also good at pissing people off” he responds “quite often, and easily. Though please mark that this one is not my fault, thank the Tidemother.”

“Whose fault is it then?” she asks, and thankfully the lock clicks in his hand then, allowing him to dodge that one. It’s only fair, she dodged his question before, after all.

Secrets - the one thing all rogues have in common he supposes.

“Almost done” he responds instead, moving to the last one, which is the trickiest one, this one involving him having to squeeze his bulk between a spider and a wall. Given what this spider appears to be - the enemy of his enemy, his fellow captive, and more - it shouldn’t be quite as nerve-racking as it is to put him in her reach. Trust Flynn’s often absent sense of self preservation to raise its head at the absolute worst times.

Plus, the tapping is getting worse now. “Is there something wrong?” he finally asks, finally getting himself situated. She doesn’t respond, but the tapping stops, so he takes that as a win as he gets back to work.

“We’re told not to think about before” she suddenly says, out of nowhere. “And you try hard not to. But I’m glad you told me.“

“What did I tell you, then?” he responds, puzzled. She doesn’t respond again, and well, cryptic, of course. Also definitely a conversation that can wait until they’re out of this cage, because there’s the final lock, and he grins as he lets it drop, rolls out from under and against her as she stretches to her considerable height, legs reaching out and taking up most of the cage. She’s a scary sight, but for the first time that makes him grin.

He likes a little scary when it’s on his side.

The door lock might have been pickable. but she doesn’t wait for it. The leverage she can get with the legs is rather impressive, and explains why they felt they needed to lock her down twice. It’s almost as impressive as what she does to the guard they find at the stairs.

He’s never going to look at spiders the same way again. He’s definitely going to be more scared of them now for one.

The guard has a spear, which is not in his normal weapon choices, but he’ll make it work. Though by unspoken agreement, she continues to take the lead, his body shielded by the arachnid frame of his companion. He’s not quite comfortable with how she moves, it makes his spine crawl if he’s completely honest, but it’s better than being stabbed.

Except as they get closer to the main room where they brought him in, took his weapons, emptied his pockets and refused to answer his questions - well, it looks like it’s not him who has to worry about being stabbed. There’s a marked increase in dead bodies once they hit the corner where the hallway in meets the hall to the cages and enters that main room.

There’s one of his captors still alive in the room when they get there. Though the grunt he makes as a dagger pierces his chest makes a quick change of that, unsurprising as he spies the figure behind that is wielding the daggers. A slight figure in dark leathers, hood, and mask that is unrecognizable and yet that he would recognize anywhere. Flynn moves before he even thinks about it. Putting his frame in front of hers now, hand gripping one of those legs which he knows is going to freak him out later but right now all he can think of is defusing the situation he knows is imminent.

“Fairwind” says the figure in front of them, voice as blank as his hooded and hidden face, passive tone contradicted by the bodies piled at his feet, the flip of a dagger to throw. “Move” the command is barked, but Flynn stays where he is. In the way.

“She’s with me” he responds, “not with them.” The dagger pauses, still poised for flight. It’s not like he hasn’t got the aim to hit her without touching Flynn, and they both know it.

“We need to get her out too” Flynn continues, and even with features hidden he can see the tenseness, the frustration in those shoulders, so he just says “Mathias, please.” He feels her quiver behind him, knows his tone of voice has given away far too much, knows the first name has given away far too much but this is too important.

“Let me check the hallway is clear” Shaw finally says before disappearing, and Flynn turns to grab his belongings from the table.

He can feel her gaze on him, like a question that he’s not sure how to answer. There’s a lot given away in how he spoke to Shaw, how Shaw listened to him. How he reacted to another name not long ago has a lot more context when you pile that on top of it.

Just like he knows that the spider is clever, very clever, probably far too clever. She would have had to have been.

“Thank you” she finally says, voice a soft hiss, and somehow he knows it isn’t just for his body shielding hers.

Chapter Text

It’s surprisingly easy to get out from there. He’s not sure whether to consider that another insult as to his talents, or credit to Shaw’s thoroughness.

Doesn’t mean there is time for discussion, or dawdling though - just because the men that were there right now are dead doesn’t mean all the enemies are dead, he knows that. But they make it to some camp where there’s apparently safety if the way Shaw slows down, lowers his hood. There’s a flight master that can take them home - or at least to that floating city. It’s only then that Flynn has to start thinking about what’s next.

Not the next that is Shaw’s hand on his cheek as the other man checks him over, though the touch here, in public, thrills him like it always does when Shaw lets down that guard just a little. He returns that piercing gaze evenly, reassuringly. Lets him know without words that he’s alright.

One of the easiest captivities he’s ever had, funnily enough. You wouldn’t think that about the land of the dead.

It’s not even the next that comes out of that captivity that worries him. There will be discussions later, about why Shaw has enemies even here (though of course he has enemies even here, he’s probably sent enough people to their deaths, directly or indirectly, to be fair game). About why Fairwind is a risk sometimes Shaw doesn’t know if he can handle, of Flynn having to convince him yet again that this is a risk he wants to take. A risk that is worth the tradeoff of them, despite how Shaw sometimes has trouble believing that.

But that’s an obvious one, an old conversation just repeated again in a different setting, and that’s not where Flynn’s concerns right now truly lie.

No, it’s the measuring look Shaw is now giving to their companion that’s the current ‘what’s next’ that has Flynn on edge. “So why are you so important?” Shaw asks her, an edge to his voice, and Flynn watches her struggle to speak.

He can understand that. All he can see if he looks at her is a few lines of careful text, in Mathias’ handwriting, that made his heart ache, that led to soft questions in the dark that Shaw had seemed to not know how to answer, not fully. He can imagine that it’s no less painful from the other side of the story. Hard to talk through something like that.

“Mathias.” he finally says, cutting through it for her because he can, he must. “I’d like you to meet Kearnan the Blade.”

He’s seen Shaw show emotion before, and he knows he is one of very very few allowed this privilege. He holds it to himself - every morning, every smile before the wall goes up and the Spymaster returns to the world, every careful touch when he lets down his guard at night.

He’s seen Shaw break before too, as rare as it is for him to get there, for good or for bad. Seen it go bad on this very topic, in the dark, on their trip. He prefers the good moments, like the first whispered utterance of love that keeps him warm when on the sea. He’s not sure where this one fits on the spectrum of relief and grief, especially as when Shaw breaks its not dramatic, not obvious. But it’s oh so telling that it’s happening here, in public, to someone who knows him well enough.

Which is both of them - his lover, and the woman who he’d called his best friend.

“Amber?” the question is hoarse and uncertain. Shaw is hoarse and uncertain, and it shows.

“They saved you” she responds, and it’s like an answer and a prayer all at once.

The words tumble out of Shaw like the tears that won’t come, that he won’t let exist. “I couldn’t. I didn’t.” And she leans down, her forehead against his, and Flynn can’t hear anything else of the conversation, turns away to let them have this.

It’s probably better that way. Someone needs to keep watch, even if they’re in a camp of apparent friendlies. Even if his eyes are distinctly watery and perhaps not the best at keeping an eye out for anything right now.

Still, it’s the thought that counts. Besides, the words being spoken behind him aren’t fully intelligible to him, a SI:7 cant and code that he only knows the barest pieces of. He doesn’t take it personally. Rogue and their secrets, after all.

Besides, he knows the broad strokes. He can still see the words on paper, too honest and true for an accounting for the king. Still hear Mathias’s voice after, in the dark, in their bed, soft and low as he stumbled over the story of the last person who was willing to step past the wall that is ‘Master Shaw’ and had been willing to take the effort to befriend Mathias.

And then had died by his supposed hand, while trying to save him, and for too long none had been the wiser.

“That my last act may not have been in vain” she says as she sidles up to him again. “That is what you told me, by showing me that token. By knowing my name. Though I thought it was more as a SI:7 cautionary tale.”

“Cautionary tale, perhaps. Because of SI:7, not so much.” he can’t help but slide his gaze to the side at that, where Mathias has come up beside him.

Flynn understands why it was so hard to get past his guard, get him to let someone in, even with as irresistible as Flynn is known to be. He knows the woman beside him is part of the reason why. But she’s also a reason why Shaw underneath was willing to take the risk, to be a friend. And eventually, more. He owes her that, he thinks.

Mathias’s hand finds his own, a squeeze of thanks, and well. He owes her a lot, he figures, all things told. Without her the world would have burned, but that’s not his true concern. Without her he would have never known the man, tides, and that’s everything. Worth at least one rescue in return.

“We should get back” Shaw finally says, his voice steady now. “I’ll need to report this, and Taelia needs to yell at you a bit”

“But we’ll come back, right?” Flynn has to ask, eyes flicking to the looming figure beside them. She’s getting much less scary by the minute, she is. Might even cure his distaste for spiders by the end of this all.

“You’ll be back” she responds, and Shaw nods.

“You still have to show me where you spider ladies drink, after all” he adds, because of course he has to, and he hears Shaw groan - and Kearnan?

Well, he’s got this hissing thing down now, and that was definitely a laugh.