Archive of Our Own ^beta

The barkeep wiped his glass, the tavern all but empty. “I see you’ve got a special kind of bangle, eh? …Lucky guy.”
Therion seethes. “What’s the problem with it? I’ll die either way, longevity be damned.”
“How about I make you a deal? …Master thief you may be, though you’re gonna run out of leaves eventually. If you work as a waiter, I’m willing to let you drink on the house.”
“What’s in it for you? My only skill is lightening other people’s pockets.”
The man chuckles. “For one thing, I won’t have to hear you sobbing so often. For another, I noticed that someone’s gone sweet on ya in town and I kinda want to see him suffer as you turn into a statue.”
On Therion’s first day, he manages to make spectacular recommendations for tourists. His snarky attitude and high levels of sass manage to entertain guests a lot more than the average waiter should
A dirty blonde with hazel eyes walks through the door a while after the moon arose. The bartender stiffens at the sight of him. Therion walks to a well-used table near the front of the store. “Welcome. There anything I can get you?”
“I’d like some Light Colzione, please.”
Therion nods. “I’ll give you the food menu, in case you get hungry.”

Therion walked up to the barkeep. He pushes a mug toward Therion, his brows furrowed. “You’d better be able to keep up with how fast that man talks… *Ive had to keep the tavern open for how long he’ll ramble.*”

Therion snorts. “Those’re the kinds of people a thief like me gets their info from. I can handle it.”

He walks back up to the hazel-eyed man, confident smirk on his face. “Here’s your drink. You want anything else?”
“Not any food, though I wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to. Todays been a weird one for me.”

Therion sits down across from him. “What ended up happening?”
“Old man Herbert ended up having his back hurt again. I gave him a salve for it, and then his daughter got this nasty rash from landin’ in cow dung. She don’t even work at the farm! There’ve been rumors goin round that she’s been sweet on the farm boy, but I did *not* expect that to be confirmed in that manner!” He wheezes.
Therion nods. “That’s one hell of a way to tell the public about her relationship status!”
“I know! Wild stuff, right?!”
“I can give you wilder stories, if you want.”
“I’m always up for wild! Whatcha got?!”
“Let me tell you about these little bitches known as the Cianno’s, and how two teenage thieves with a lot of time on their hands managed to rob them blind. So…”

Therion told him a lot about the heist that changed his life: how it succeeded, how they managed to make the Cianno’s declare bankruptcy… he didn’t mention *anything* about being unable to feel his left eye or the scarring that happened afterward. The emotional pain of losing his thieving partner still hasn’t died.

“A thief managed to steal a royal purple poncho off of the King of Marsalim’s back, and still wears it to this day…” Therion yawns. “I think I’d better go to bed.”
“Yeah, I’d better take the day off with how long we’ve been talkin!” He points at the glass window. “The suns starting to poke out.”
Therion smiles. “I can’t believe I’ve talked this much to anyone! Say, I don’t think I’ve asked your name.”
“I’m Alfyn! Alfyn Greengrass, one of the apothecaries in this town. And you are?”
“Therion. I’m well-traveled waitstaff.”

Alfyn beams, waving as he walks out the door. “See ya when I come around!”
Once the door closes, the bartender groans. “He means around dinner time with a fellow apothecary.”

Therion grins. “As long as I’ve got coffee, I’ll be fine. …He’s kinda cute, anyhow.”

Once Therion gets settled into town, Zeph doesn’t know how he feels about the new waitstaff. On one hand, this man makes Alfyn happy by breathing… on the other, Alfyn doesn’t go into work half as often. Is Alfyn being made an alcoholic? …Why doesn’t he hang out as often anymore??? Zeph decides to investigate
After the moon rises, Zeph hides near a window. He crouches, and Alfyn wasn’t drinking the beer he ordered. He stared softly into the waitstaff’s eyes, talking gently. Gentle touches are shared between the two of them… affection lays deep in their eyes. Zephs eyes widen: this can only mean one thing. His fists ball up, his teeth clenched. “All those years I spent at your side… and you go after the first person who walks in town and stays?!” He punches a tree until his knuckles bleed.
Alfyn opens the tavern door. Zeph rushes behind the building, and listens to Alfyn’s rambling. “That guy’s so different. He’s always watchin’ out for us, and he knows a criminal just by lookin’ at ‘em! I’m awful intrigued by ‘im. I wonder if the world outside Clearbrook has more people like that!”
Zeph waits for Alfyn to enter his home before screaming into the night. “FIRST HE FANCIES ANOTHER… NOW HE WANTS TO LEAVE?! HAVE I TRULY BEEN SO HORRENDOUS AT SHOWING MY FEELINGS TO HIM???”
High-pitched cackling emanates from behind him. He turns around to dark flowing hair and red eyes. A black dress with yellow accents is covered by a red cloak with fur at its ends. “Poor thing! You spend your whole life thinking he’ll end up in your arms, yet here he is frolicking off to something new. Frustrating, I would assume.”
Zeph curls up into a ball, tears in his eyes. “I feel so isolated… I thought he felt the same way…”
“Pain is a currency, is it not?” She grabs a pendant made of dark metal with a ruby in the middle. “I can make any person you please do as you wish. In exchange, I need you to keep quiet about healing some high-profile… politicians. Sound good to you?”
Zeph nods. “I’m *done* feeling so lonely.”
She grins. “What would you wish for first?”
“I want Alfyn to fall madly in love with me.”
Therion waits excitedly for Alfyn to arrive the night afterward. While the bartender sleeps at his table, Therion paces. Last time, Alfyn promised to take him to a secluded cavern. Therion’s always been a massive fans of sprawling caverns, so he’s awfully excited!
He paces back and forth. The sun goes further and further down the cliffs, yet Alfyn never entered the tavern. He waits and waits… at the crack of dawn, dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes open the tavern door. Gray and lifeless, he moved like a puppet. Therion walks up to him. “Alfyn! What took you so long?!”
Alfyn walked up to the bartender. “One French toast, please.”
He groans. “I knew Lyblac was headed around town, but I thought I warned you not to get involved with her lot!!!” He walks behind the monotone apothecary, and sees a marking on his wrist. “Therion, your dagger?”
“Yeah, sure.” He unsheathed the dagger, holding it by the blade. The bartender took it, and slashed deep into Alfyn’s skin. Monotone and dull turned to hurt and confused. “Now *how* did I get this kinda wound?! Just before I was gonna show Theri the caverns, too…”
The bartender glares. “How’d you get cursed by Lyblac? I told everyone in town to stay away from her.”
“Shucks, Miguel. You think I know?! Last I remember, Zeph was puttin’ on a black apothecaries jacket and treating a man with a crow tattoo.”
“Oh Gods…” Miguel put his head in his hands. “The Obsidians now have a Riverlands apothecary, huh?! I can’t keep hiding out here, Alfyn. If they find me, they’ll mark me too.”
Alfyn shakes his head. “Miguel, take it one step at a time. We should wait it out ‘till we know for sure what’s goin’ on. If the Obsidians get here… ah well, ya know? I’ll hide out with ya if they want my healin’ so bad.” Alfyn turns to Therion’s graying fingers. “The one I’m worried about here is Theri. He’s a master thief with sudden onset arthritis! The poor man can’t travel anymore.”
Miguel shrugs. “We can carry him. He’s tiny.”
Therion pouts. “I’ve robbed more pounds of gold than the weights of everyone in this town!”
“Doesn’t mean you aren’t a pipsqueak.”
While Therion glares at pointy red hair and brown eyes, a brunette slams open the door. A dagger lay on her side: a red dancer’s outfit with golden bangles dangling off of her waist band exposes her midriff as she glares at Alfyn’s bloodied wrist. “Who in the hells hurt Alfyn?!”
Miguel bows. “That would be me.”
She unsheathes her dagger, pointing it at his throat. “I knew something was off about you-”
Therion kicks the dagger out of her hand. “…Hold up, hold up! Let the man speak.”
“Who in the hells are you?!”
“Therion. …Well-traveled waitstaff. The man gave me a job after getting sudden-onset arthritis.”
She puts her dagger in its sheathe. “Why did Miguel chop a portion of Alfyn’s wrist off?”
“Alfyn was cursed by the Obsidians.” She freezes up. “His friend Zeph started working for them, and then a mark showed up on that wrist-“
Miguel clears his throat. “Then I recognized that mark from my time in the Obsidians, and promptly removed it.” Miguel sighs. “…At least I could save Alfyn, even if my big sister couldn’t be helped.”
Primrose crosses her arms. “Zeph is our enemy now, it seems… how in the hells did that man go from the most reasonable person I know to an Alfyn-possessing Obsidian?”
“I don’t see that man wallowing his sorrows in a drink, so I can’t tell ya. Alfyn, you have a way with people. …Maybe you could ask Nina what happened?”
Alfyn nods. “She owes me that much, after I had to fight a venomous snake to save her life.”
Miguel pats his back. “Good ‘ol self-sacrificing Alfyn.”
Therion walks next to Alfyn. “Let me help. If I’m around, at least you won’t need both of your wrists slashed into.” He grabs a dagger.
Alfyn gasps. “You can hardly walk these days! Are ya sure?!”
Therion looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m not gonna let you get hurt.” His fingers loosen slightly.
Alfyn looks at brown hair and brown eyes. “Why’re you in town, Prim?”
She crosses her arms. “The Obsidians are here, and if Zeph is treating a Crow, as you say, then it is my duty to kill that Crow. I thought destroying their internal organs would be enough, yet here we are.”
Miguel leans against his countertop. “Lady Lyblac, Daughter of the Dark God, supports them. I wouldn’t get on her bad side, if I were you.”
Prim shrugs. “I’d rather be a zombie than passively allow my mission to fail.”
“Suit yourself. As for me, I’ll be making sure Alfyn doesn’t die at the hands of my old teammates.”
Alfyn grins. “That makes a party! …All of this just to have me talk with Nina? I managed to get what kinda snake bit ‘er out when she was hardly talkin. No need to worry bout me!!!”
Miguel shakes his head. “It ain’t Nina we’re worried about. Zeph has the Obsidians at his disposal, Alf, and I’ll owe you to the day I die. I’m not letting my brother get hurt.”
Primrose glares at them. “Alfyn, when did Miguel become your brother?”
Miguel smirks. “He kinda adopted me into the role.”
“…Alright. Go on.”
Alfyn walks towards tavern doors. “Goal is to get info from Nina, so get info from Nina we shall!!!”
Therion stays at Alfyn’s right side. Prim walks on his left, while Miguel watches his back at his insistence. Cloaked men hide behind Zeph’s house. They speak in sharp, hushed voices, a little girl sobbing in their midst.
Therion doesn’t know if he has it in him: Nina is surrounded by armed mercenaries, though he has to try! He goes between a man’s legs. He picks up a small child with brown hair, exiting through the same entrance. He sprints as far as his legs could take him before collapsing onto the ground.
The mercenaries hear the large thud. “Who’s there?!”
Therion let go of Nina. “Run. Find Alfyn or Miguel, NOW!”
Nina nods, dashing into the night. She watches a man with stone beginning to reach his knees and elbows get handled roughly by several more. A pretty woman with a red dress follows their entourage.
Alfyn suppresses a sob. Mr. Bartender facepalms, before lifting Nina onto his shoulders like he always does.
They walk to Mr. Bartender’s house, Alfyn’s eyes dull and numb. She walks up to Alfyn, gifting him a flower she was scolded at for picking from the dirt. “What’s wrong?”
Alfyn sits at an oaken table, broken barstools surrounding it. “…I didn’t know he was cursed.”
Miguel crosses his arms. “That’s a thieves mark. Usually, people use bangles or slumberthorn stabbed into the wrist… whoever marked him is a cruel bastard. He’s gonna die one way or another, Alf.”
“How come they did that? What’s their reasonin’, huh?!”
“Greed. It’s always greed… greed is a selfish thing selfish people use to get ahead of the rest. They take, take and take. They always consider their friends, though never trust them enough to give them nothing.”
“Why torture a man to death for that?! He’s made amends!”
“The curse is the reason he did, Alf. …Else he’d still be scared of his own shadow.” Miguel puts some beer next to Alfyn. “Don’t feel too bad about it, OK? Therion doesn’t regret a second of his life after he stepped onto our small town.”
Alfyn sips the beer, a melancholic look in his eyes. “I love him, Miguel… I love him, and now he’s ‘bout to die. I became an apothecary to heal the hurts of others, and now I can’t do shit about his! …What kinda twisted joke is this?!”
Nina puts her hands on her hips. “Listen to yourselves! Have you never read a fairytale?!” She pulls a velvet covered book out of a bag. “There are all kinds of tales in here. Dancer’s Serenade, the Thieves’ Masquerade Ball, even the Cleric and the Countryman! You know what they all have in common?” She flips the book to a picture of a dancer and a prince kissing. “They live happily ever after! …Alfyn, Mr. Waiter may be cursed. But you two will kiss, and you will live happily ever after!!!”
Alfyn giggles. His giggle turns to chuckling and wheezing. “Shucks, Nina, I needed that.”
“Glad I could help, Alfie. Can you lend me a hand, too? Zeph’s been acting real weird lately. He’s been going on and on about making you like him, and making the townsfolk take his side no matter what he does! The worst I can think of is forgetting to grab an apple, but it’s so weird. It’s been driving me nuts.”
“Why do ya think he’s been up to this crap?”
“I don’t know! Far as I see, you two are best buds.”
Miguel spends a moment rubbing his chin. He paces back and forth, and stiffens once a light reached his eyes. “Alfyn…” he falls on the ground. He beams with laughter, rolling on the ground, his hands on his abdomen. “Alfyn, oh my gods…”
Alfyn groans. “What do ya think it is now?”
“Zeph’s fuckin’ DESPERATE!!! He really wants his hands in yours, huh?! Working for the Obsidians to have a CHANCE with you…” an unholy wheeze courses through his body. “My gods, that bastard needs an outlet for crushes…”
“I ain’t gonna do that for ‘im. E’s my friend, not my lover! I’ve never felt nothin’ for ‘im like that.”
“IMAGINE FORSAKING YOUR MORAL CODE CAUSE YOURE HORNY-“ Miguel goes back to his giggle fit.
Alfyn inhales his beer like a Hoover. Nina reads her fairytale book before going to bed.
The sun rises. Miguel is passed out on the floor, Alfyn sleeping next to his empty beer mug. Nina stretches, and runs over to Alfyn. “Wake up, you big baby!” She nudges him until he stirs from his slumber. “You’re gonna save Mr. Waiter, right? Go in like a big hero and save the day???”
Alfyn ruffles her hair. “I’ll do my best, Nina.”
Alfyn grabs his trusty medical hatchet. He ground slumberthorn and chamomile into a fine dust, adding it to an injurious substance of large volume. He put it in a spray bottle, held it like a glock and approached Zeph’s house.
A group of men in black leather armor cackle. “…What business have you here?!”
Alfyn grins. “Aw, nothin’ much. Just helpin’ someone out of a bind.”
He sprays them with his concoction, them dropping to the ground. He barges into Zeph’s place. A purple haired woman scoffs, muttering an ancient incantation. Alfyn sprays her with the substance: she falls to the ground like the rest.
Zeph has a hatchet at Therion’s throat. Upon hearing his master fall to the floor, he puts his hatchet elsewhere. “Alfyn?!”
He holds up the spray bottle. “What in the hells were you thinkin’, working for Galdera’s child?!”
“You wouldn’t pay attention to me! You never did!!!” Zeph’s fists ball up. “I’d give you flowers, you make them into Nina’s flower crown. I’d get you chocolate, you’d share it with the children!!! Once you left on your journey, I’d hoped I’d forget. I’d hoped I could find something better to do than crush on someone who could never understand a romantic advance.
Then you returned… nothing changed, Alf! My heart tore itself up like a blender once you stopped hanging out with me to talk to that damned waiter. I can’t move on, Alf…” Zeph begins to tear up. “I never could.”
“Zeph, ya know I’ve always known you as my brother. We’ve been friends since we could walk: I couldn’t treat ya like a lover even if I wanted to.”
“Then what the hells am I supposed to do?!”
Miguel runs through the door. He winks, a hand on his hip. “I can show ya, if ya’d like!”
Zeph groans, his cheeks turning pink. “Not you…”
“Y’know you’re way prettier than your friend, yeah? Pretty eyes and pretty hair-“
A pained gasp comes from pale white hair and green eyes. “ALFYN LOOKS WAY BETTER THAN THE GUY WHO TRIED TO KILL ME, JUST SAYING!”
Alfyn rushes to his side. Stone comes up to his neck: his breathing is faint. “Theri!! By the gods, are you OK?!”
Therion barely manages to smile. “Now that you’re here, I’m peachy. …I knew this would come someday, so I had Miguel help me write out a map. Primrose has it right now, so if you can track her down and grab it… take everything from there, and use it to help the town. Every last treasure hoard to speak of has all kinds of stuffy nobles housewares. I was a damn good thief, Y’know.” His speech slows as the stone crawls up his chin. “…I was the one in all those tales I told you.”
“Therion!” The stone renders his mouth shut: Alfyn sniffles. “…Theri, I love you!”
Joy echoes in his eyes before they turn ash gray. Alfyn sobs. Tears fall onto gray stone, Therion’s eyes dull and dark. Alfyn closes his eyes, and a flash of light hits them. Therion’s legs go back to their tan hue. His baggy pants are black once more, his tavern shirt it’s pearly white. He squeezes Alfyn’s hand. Alfyn opens his eyes to the last bits of stone leaving Therion’s hair. He sits up and runs to punch Zeph in the face. Zeph grits his teeth. “That hurts like HELL!”
Therion flips him off. “That wouldn’t hurt half as bad as being beheaded.” Zeph attempts to go at Therion with an axe: he crouches, stealing the axe from under him. He cackles. “I wasn’t kidding about being a master thief. I’ve robbed the Cianno’s with an idiot at my heels…” he stares smugly at fuming Zeph. “I can certainly rob you blind right now if I pleased.”
Alfyn squeezes his cheeks. “Therion! Are you hurt? Did anything happen to you?!” He stares at Zeph, his eyebrows furrowed. “If you did anythin’ to ‘im, I swear to Dohter-“
“Nah. He’s too softhearted to hurt people, Alf.” Therion looks into Alfyn’s hazel eyes. “I’m ok…”
The door opens, and Miguel screams. They turn around to Primrose Azelhart holding a freshly chopped head with silver hair.
Zeph groans. “You’re gonna get blood all over my floor!”
Prim pouts. “If I keep the head around with me, then I know he’s dead this time!”
“Take it to your house, not mine!!!!! Primrose Azelhart, please keep your homicidal tendencies to yourself."
"I thought about that..." she puts a dagger to Zeph's throat. "Then you hurt Alfyn. Our traveling band had one rule, y'know, and it went as follows: you hurt one of us, you hurt the rest. So Zeph, to put it kindly... I tell anyone else we traveled with about this, you will be fucked over so hard you'll hardly be able to go from town to town in peace."
"Your point, milady?"
Primrose puts down her dagger. "You stay away from Alfyn, I don't tell the gang that you messed with him. Get out of town, change your name, get out of my sight. You hear me?"
"That's fair, though... Where would I go? The Obsidians are a powerful group, though trust them I do not."
Miguel smirks. "I could keep him in my sight, y'know. No drastic measures need to be taken then."
Zeph frowns. "What do you mean, "in your sight?""”
"Only that we room together. ...What were you thinking?" He looks smugly at Zeph. "Nothing you did to Alfyn under Lady Lyblac's mind control spell, right?"
Zeph runs into his room, screaming into his pillow. "HE WOULDN'T LET ME DO ANYTHING TO HIM, EVEN IF I WANTED TO!"
"Say, why's there so much blood on the floor?"
Primrose lifts Lyblac, pointing at her slit neck. "I made sure the Obsidians couldn't sustain themselves, that's all. I'll give these to local farmers: they make good fertilizer."
"How many of them did you kill?"
"...Why do you ask such a question?"
"...I have a bad idea, is why I ask."
------
Eduardo was not expecting a man with a spray bottle and a country accent to knock him on his ass. He's a merc, and a damn good one. The floor beneath him twisted and turned. He lay on a mattress filled with the lightest hay and straw. He stretches, and the mattress sinks into the floor. He looks down, and the "floor" is a riverbed. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" He attempts to get up, yet his mattress couldn't bear his weight: he fell facefirst into the rapids.
Miguel is rolling on the floor once more. "I AM HORRIBLE!" He wheezes, his body shuddering.
Zeph frowns. “That guy has a crippling fear of water.”
“THAT’S EVEN BETTER!!!!! Imagine it, Zeph, IMAGINE facing your worst fear when you first wake up after some dipshit country boy-“
“He’s an apothecary-“
“Manages to knock your ass out with a spray bottle.” He manages a slight smile out of a man whose eyes have been dull for days. “He must be SO humiliated about how much his pants smell.”
Alfyn walks into the tavern. Therion looks up from a mug of ale he’s pouring behind the counter, mischievous grin on his face. “I knew you were gonna skip the river festivities. It’s a shock to me that Zeph didn’t, though.”
Alfyn sits on the barstool across from Therion. “He’s always loved watching pranks and not gettin’ in trouble for it.”
“I see.” Therion puts a fresh mug of ale in front of Alfyn, pouring another. “Before I take your order, I need to talk to you about something. Mind dealing with me for a bit before eating?”
Alfyn’s expression softens. “I’ve always got the time to talk to you.” He waits for Therion to be done pouring his own ale, yet Therion slides it over to the chair next to him. He walks over to Alfyn’s side, sitting on the barstool. “What’s up?”
“I figured out what the woman who cursed me meant when she said what she did.
‘This curse can be broken in two ways: the first is to learn to devote yourself to a group of companions. The second, find someone you trust wholeheartedly and devote yourself to them.’”
“Ya devoted yerself to Clearbrook, yeah? You gave me a map to grab all of your treasure hoards.”
Therion spits his beer out. “Alf, I love Clearbrook. I love the people, how quiet it is… I like how nothing too exciting goes on around here. But I wouldn’t dedicate my everything to this town.
I dedicated myself to the hope that you’d come in to the tavern everyday and ask for a drink. I dedicated myself to become a better conversation partner so we could talk more… I dedicated myself to ensuring that the smile on your face remains there. Alfyn… I think I devoted myself to you.”
Alfyn’s face turns red. “You…”
Therion moved his hands to hide his face under a newly acquired scarf. “Thieves only give those kinda maps to their significant others, yknow.”
Alfyn lets out an involuntary squeak. “You sure you didn’t hear me say I love you when y’got kidnapped? …This ain’t a dream, right?!”
Therion pinches his shoulder. “You feel that?” Alfyn nods. “Then it can’t be one. Alfyn Greengrass, I would like to begin a courtship… you mind?”
Alfyn gets up from his barstool. He jumps up and down before hugging Therion from behind. “I’d love that!!! Why Theri, I didn’t think ya returned my affections! By Dohter, I…”
“I didn’t think you’d return them either, otherwise I’d have bought a large bouquet of flowers for you.”
“You’re so sweet, Theri! Aw shucks, you’re so sweet!!!”
Therion turns around. He places his hand on Alfyn’s chin, Alfyn turning pink at the touch. He moves closer to Alfyn, their noses touching, and their lips connect.