Work Text:
“Checkmate.”
“Fuck, I can never win against you,” Oswald complained, flicking his King over dramatically and leaning back in his chair. The blonde man across from him cracked a smug smile, lacing his hands together.
“I know,” Ianos replied, an expression of superiority taking over his face. He stood up, wincing from a slight ache in his calf and went over to stoke the fire. The Paladin’s house was by no means fancy, just a small little cluster of rooms shoved on the corner of Tanner’s Way, but he didn’t need it to be. Oswald had his own place, a tiny rented room in Kauth’s Alley on the other side of the town, but he was rarely there, splitting his evenings between taverns or his friend’s abode. It was an arrangement that suited the two of them just fine, enjoying each other’s company without being in training. In fact, Oswald was seen entering Ianos’s house so much that the older of the two knew that if not for his companion’s preceding reputation that there would be vicious rumours circulating as to why he was there so often. It was a thought he didn’t like from the way it made heat pool in his cheeks.
The Aasimar yawned and watched his friend revive the fireplace through half-lidded eyes, humming idly to himself. Chess matches were a big part of his nightly rituals with Ianos, but try as he might he simply could not beat the blonde man. Every game he convinced himself this was the one, but never actually achieved his goal.
“Got anything good to drink?” He asked, raising his head.
“I have wine, but you’re not touching it,” Ianos answered without looking. “That’s for when I’m depressed and lonely.”
“Start coming out with me, then you can drink wine without being depressed and lonely.” Oswald offered, playing with a strand of his hair.
“Last time I went drinking with you, I was left alone not an hour later after that Bard took her fancy of you.” He was reminded, a hint of genuine anger in the sentence.
“You’ll find someone eventually.”
“Says the man who knows nothing of settling down in any way shape or form.” Ianos had finished with the fire and made his way back over to his armchair facing Oswald. “I don’t need to find someone, I’m doing just fine.”
“You just said that you have a wine stash for when you’re depressed and lonely.” The Aasimar pointed out. Ianos only sighed, not bothering with a reply.
It was a well-known fact that despite many of the people who lived in or passed through Daggerford had, at some point, had a dalliance with Oswald, none of them actually liked him. He was somewhat cold and heartless, perfectly happy to have his dues and move on just like that. It didn’t help that he had arrived seemingly from nowhere and arrogantly. This is what irked Ianos so. He was the only person who liked Oswald for him and not his inherent attractiveness. And yet he was still the second choice. Sure, he knew more of the man than any other, his true form, his lighter side, and it didn’t hurt that the Aasimar had a particular proclivity and soft spot for him… But all he seemed to care for was the attention he got from desire. But the Paladin was a reserved man. He kept his mouth shut on such insecurities and held his cards close.
“I’m going to bed.” Ianos finally announced, quelling his residing thoughts on the idea of this hypothetical ‘someone’ and how sour the inclination felt. “If any of my wine is gone in the morning I’m locking my door to you.” He got up and ducked through the low arch set into the wall, exiting the room.
“You wouldn’t,” Oswald called jokingly. “You like me too much.” The slam of Ianos’s bedroom door was all he got in response.
- - - - -
The next few days saw Ianos busy with Guild-related duties, leaving Oswald to wander as he pleased, tracing each street of Daggerford twice over before he finally got bored on the third day. And it was such that led the dark-haired Aasimar to journey out of the town entirely and down to the Delimbyr River with the sun behind him. It was a moderate walk out of the main gate and across the bridge to the steeper banks he could comfortably lean against. He made sure to avoid the Port, not wanting any noise to disturb what was shaping up to be a day of peace. Oswald stretched out his legs and settled into a position that was perhaps not the most comfortable he could have attained, but was one that would leave no lingering effects should he stay in it for a time.
It was days like this he hated the most. The empty boredom that came when he was left alone was too familiar and it grated at him. Whenever Ianos was off with the Guild or on duty or even mentoring other aspiring Paladins. The Aasimar flicked a long piece of grass that was tickling his cheek from where he lay. It was selfish to want the blonde's company all the time, he had other businesses to attend to, but there was little else for him. No hobbies (unless drinking counted, which Oswald did not think it did), no other friends. Had he the ability, he would likely continue swordsmanship practice, as it was a skill he was garnering promising talent in, but he had no blade to his name and no partner to spar with. So it came to this. Lounging in the sun and waiting.
Ianos had promised that this day would be the last in their training hiatus when Oswald had briefly seen him heading towards the Temple the previous morning, so he held a little hope. The dark-haired man watched the water of the river glitter its way past in a lazy amble and a thought that sparked something beyond apathy occurred to him. It was a moderately warm day, the early afternoon sun providing a pleasant but not uncomfortable heat and the current in Delimbyr could not be further from strong. It was these rationalisations that made Oswald sit up and remove his shirt, laying it next to the small bag he had brought with him. He then also took off his boots and socks, thinking his trousers should stay on for some semblance of modesty.
Oswald considered the depth of the water for a moment before choosing to enter carefully rather than to dive, in case it was shallower than expected. The coldness hit his skin immediately, sending such a shiver that his concentration broke and his eyes flared white for the briefest of moments before he caught the dregs of the illusion spell and reiterated it to hide their natural colour behind dark blue again. It took a moment before he could bare the temperature enough to wade further, but eventually, he did. The Aasimar felt the way the river moved around him, so slow and peaceful it could be stagnant. He let it embrace him, collecting around his exposed skin with icy tendrils.
For a while, he just floated, existing in the moment and letting the water lap over him with a gentle touch. It was more serene than Oswald was anticipating to just lie there and be. He didn’t even really think, it was all just the water below him and the sun above him. The light from the sky, from his God, was the very heart of safety. If he closed his eyes the warmth became the fire he spent evenings by. The Aasimar could imagine the distant laughter of his friend.
It was only when his arms began to shake, flesh erupting with goosebumps from the sun slipping behind a cloud that Oswald came back to boredom. Like a broken spell, his calmness dissipated and all he wanted to do was get out of the cold river making the fabric of his trousers cling uncomfortably to his legs. That is what he did, pulling himself up onto the bank and assuming his previously seated position to dry off when the cloak of white whisps moved on from obscuring the sun. Oswald shook out his hair and reached for his bag, pulling out a small book with quill and ink to accompany it.
It was not something the Aasimar would hasten to call a diary or a journal, but by all intents and purposes, it was. It was a handsome leather-bound thing that was mostly used during his childhood and was written in now scarcely, only on days when he was alone, such as this one. The hardened cover was a discoloured red and engraved. Practice in magic had given him the skill to carve his name in the leather with pointed strokes so that the front simply read: Oswald A. Wilder. He let it sit in his lap, not knowing anything to write. He had nothing to report, the past few days had dragged on neutrally. Maybe today would be to read. Go back over his past and be thankful for the changes.
He would never get to do that on this day, as a shadow loomed over him, and a tired voice spoke.
“What’s the ‘A’ for?” Ianos yawned, leaning over Oswald’s shoulder to see. The Aasimar in question jumped slightly at the noise, not expecting anyone, let alone Ianos, to be over his shoulder. He craned his neck to look at his friend, confused as to his materialisation.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked indignantly, shading his eyes from the sun.
“Just got done,” He jerked his head backward to reveal about seven or so other various Holy people of Daggerford walking towards the bridge. “Didn’t expect to see you out here looking so sodden.” Ianos half-laughed, referring to how pearls of water still glistened on Oswald’s exposed chest.
“Strange things occur when you’re not around.” He replied with a shrug.
“I’m rather devastated to find you don’t mope around all dejected,” Ianos said. “Do I mean so little?”
“Oh, so that’s what the depression wine is for. That’s how you act when I’m not around.” The Aasimar winked. “Knew you liked me after all.” The Paladin didn’t reply for a short while, and when he did, it was to change the subject.
“So what does the ‘A’ stand for?” He asked again, peering close at the leather.
“Middle name,” Oswald replied shortly. “You never asked before, so I didn’t tell.” He shoved the book into his bag. Almost on instinct, Ianos offered a hand to his friend to help him up. Oswald took it and hauled himself to his feet, aware that their fingers stayed connected for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. The Paladin looked down at the dark-haired man from his more advantaged position for a moment, before glancing away as the other made to put his shirt back on.
“I’m asking now,” Ianos offered, having waited to respond.
“Aurelio.” He replied shortly, readying himself to walk back to the town. The blonde hummed in response.
“Oswald Aurelio Wilder…” He tested the name on his lips, liking the way the syllables sounded in tandem. “Rolls off the tongue rather nicely, don’t you agree?” The man in question scoffed, expression turning distasteful for a moment.
“Yes. I believe that was the idea. Very marketable.” He spat, aiming the venom in his reply at no one in particular. Ianos raised an eyebrow at the sudden hostility in his voice.
“Marketable?” He asked. “What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. Leave it.” The bluntness of the reply gave Ianos somewhat of an idea as to the subject matter he was pushing. Oswald was frequently tetchy about his life before Daggerford, especially any mention of family. The Paladin had discovered not to ask about the subject. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know either, it would be some time before he forgot how he found the Aasimar, half-bleeding to death from a stab wound on a hill. Whatever had brought him here was locked in secret silence.
“I need to swing by the Guildmaster’s Hall,” He told Oswald as they began to walk back towards the bridge. “I have reports to make. You can wait for me at my house.” Ianos paused, face dropping. “If it suits you, of course, if you’re planning on an evening out-”
“I’ll wait,” Oswald responded. “I suppose I’m not the most welcome face to accompany you,” He half-laughed. “Anything interesting going on?”
“Not particularly. We - the other Paladins and Clerics - just toured the Hamlets to ensure prosperity. Nothing is happening. As ever.” The blonde replied, scraping some dirt from under his fingernail with a frown.
“What are they like? The others, I mean, not the Hamlets.” Oswald added. “I don’t care much for a description of some houses.”
“They’re fine enough. Polite, I suppose,” His lips twisted. “They keep their distance from me. Being your only associated figure has cost me a lot of reputation, Wilder.”
“And? Who gives a fuck about those bastards?”
“You know I wouldn’t trade you for anything,” Ianos reminded the Aasimar. “I’m yours.” He thought on his words for a second before flushing furiously at how he had worded the latter sentence.
“That’s one way of putting it.” Oswald shrugged, confused. The Paladin turned his face away, hiding the almost luminous pink hue decorating his face.
“Forgive me, I’m a little fatigued.” He explained.
“Well, in that case, you’ll be sleeping once this business at the Hall is done. Perhaps I will go out this evening after all.” Oswald mused. Ianos’s face fell. He had been rather looking forward to spending another lost evening with his friend, playing chess and the like. He didn’t let the Aasimar see his disappointment, hiding the visceral emotion behind a curt nod.
“As you wish.”
The two completed the rest of the walk in silence until they passed through the town gate. Oswald walked straight on, to his usual haunt at the River Shining, while Ianos turned left toward’s the greyish blue-roofed Guildmaster’s Hall where the rest of his group were probably already waiting. No doubt one of the Clerics he didn’t know the name of had revelled in telling the head of the Paladin’s Guild his tardiness was because he had stopped to talk to Oswald. An act that was sure to get him a tough talking to.
The meeting ended up being short and thankfully passed without consequence. Soon enough Ianos and the other Amaunator followers he had been on duty with were sucking in the cool night air, forming a small gaggle with Ianos a few isolated feet away.
“We’re going to the tavern for a drink if you wanted to join us.” The blonde looked up at the voice. It was Jastor, a Paladin a few years older than him who seemed to be the one who had the least issue with him, and therefore was responsible for passing on any messages. He gestured up to the River Shining.
Ianos almost agreed. Almost. But then he thought on; thought of Oswald. He desperately tried not to imagine seeing the Aasimar drinking and laughing with some faceless someone while he looked on, as ever, to the side. That building bitterness was something he could do without at the present time. He didn’t even deign Jastor with an answer, just shook his head.
“That’s probably wise. Wilder is likely there, I suppose you want a break from that freak whenever you can.” Once again, the Paladin didn’t speak, only glared before turning on his heel and walking home.