Chapter 1: Controlling the Narrative
Summary:
Have you ever wondered about the psychological gymnastics Daeran has to accomplish in order to keep the commander safe from the Other, while still managing to romance them? A bit of self-gaslighting to control the narrative he allows even himself to focus on, in order to keep the focus of his attention safe and, well, alive.
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That was a blast. I mean, it was plainly charming. Breathtaking. Hrm.. absolutely delightful. Yes, that's the one. I am actually buzzing..!
I must ensure that I will get alone again sometime soon! I am certain that they also enj- Oh! What do I think I'm doing! Of course neither of them will think twice about the silly little "dates" I so enjoyed with them, such as that frivolous game. They've probably forgotten already - returning to their incessant bickering and - ugh - research. They have much more important things to think about and people to do than me. Uhmmm wait a second.. reverse that! Yes, that's better.
I can even hear them now, muttering and plotting the night away in the commanders’ quarters while I.. lay.. here. Alone. Where I ought to remain! Forever. Their little offers and invitations are basic cordiality.
But the way Salvadore's hand bru- OH LOOK AT ME. Utterly ridiculous! The spark. The shiver I felt... It was definitely just the cold. In my own head. Ha ha! I can just be so silly. Yes, of course, I may not be able to silence my own feelings of love and devotion, but luckily I can be sure - without a single miniscule echo of doubt - that they are absolutely not requited even in the slightest. The delusions of a madman! Naturally. The commanders ought not cause any trouble at all.
Ah, what a relief! I am doing such a good job with hidi- Erm, with grounding myself in how things are. With not letting my hopes up! What is that pesky little thing that harasses me endlessly by bringing those two to the top of my mind? This urge that insists on frivolously hoping? How pathetic can I be! There are no grounds for something like that here.
Not when- Yes, good, don't question th- The insanity, of course! I do not doubt their apathy towards me for one measly second. And I dare not! For reasons of... pride, of course. I am just some hapless fool, groundlessly yearning for the most eligible bachelors in all of Mendev. And what should they want with me, a reckless party boy, whom they only brought along because they had to. Of course.
But he loo- Ah right, but that's exactly what I am. A fool. Whatever else could be the reason that I fabricate feelings and moments that just did not happen in any real way whatsoever! Romanticizing nothingness.
Gods. I am so fucked up.
Ha. Gods. As if they have ever cared.
Well, not to worry. I have no need for gods of any sort. I am here and I have it all under control this time. Nobody will be in danger here. Because there is simply no need! They do not look twice in my direction despite my obsession. And that will not stop me from showering them in my affection despite that it - yes - it must bother them so.
But the way Mesclavetty looked at me right before drawing his arrow on the sla- Ah!!!! I!!!! - Ah, hm..what was that? A splash in the water? Camellia, perhaps? I should greet her before my mind starts to wander again for no verifiable reason whatsoever.
Chapter 2: Musings of a Dawning Day
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Knight Commander Salvadore always aims big.
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The recently crowned King of Mendev and Primarch of the Wounded Lands stood upon his palace balcony, the white of his uniform pristine and unblemished, a silent testament to his control. – Over the battlefield, over his image, and over the blood he never let get close.
Salvadore looked out over the war-weary city of Drezen – his city –, in all its potential. Where others saw scars left by decades of bloodshed, he saw foundations for an empire. He had saved this land. Now he would shape it.
The gods had watched him seal the Worldwound with his own hand. He had defied demon lords, led armies, made pacts with powers celestial and demonic alike. And while others trembled at such choices, he had embraced them.
For now, and for decades to come, he would attend to his prize: The chance to build, the chance to create a kingdom of light for all those willing to follow him.
And then, one day in a faraway future, well …
He spoke little of it to his advisors, even the closest of them, but the Test of the Starstone called to him like a blade to its scabbard. He did not seek divinity for vanity – though pride burned hot in his chest –, but because he believed the world needed better gods. Gods who acted. Gods who protected. Gods who earned their worship. He had walked through the Abyss, and no divine hand reached to guide him. He had been his own salvation.
One day, he would face the Starstone. He would pass its trials, not as a supplicant, but as a conqueror. – Led by his visions of peace and progress greater than most dared to dream of, visions of prosperity and justice. He would forge them with his own hands, and no one – not man, nor devil, nor deity – would stand in his way.
Chapter 3: The Lamb's Cozy Adventure
Chapter by tentiebear
Summary:
I believe that this piece speaks for itself 🥺 Dae as the lamb, Sal as the book he enjoys, and Mix as the blanket around them both 🩶
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Chapter 4: My Bestie, The Trickster
Chapter by tentiebear
Summary:
Mix may be skilled and dedicated with protecting others, but when it comes to his own safety, he is much more lax. And he....has a rather dangerous and unpredictable best friend who does so enjoy kidnapping him.
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Chapter 5: An Exceptional Dance
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
It is Daeran's birthday once more. What better occasion to show off in front of an audience.
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Laughter rang through the grand hall of Heaven’s Edge. The chandeliers gleamed like a constellation, casting golden light over the revelry, and the air was rich with perfume and wine, where nobility and misfits mingled in cheerful delight, free from the burdens of war, four months after its horrors had come to an end. It was Daeran Arendae’s birthday celebration, and as always, extravagance dripped from every curtain and clinked in every glass.
The orchestra began a slow, elegant waltz, and a stir rippled through the guests as the double doors opened once more. In stepped the Knight Commanders. Two of them. Co-leaders, co-heroes, and – the gossip had reached the very heart of Nerosyan – co-lovers no less. The crowd hushed with delighted anticipation as they approached the birthday boy.
Daeran, reclined lazily on a velvet couch, raised a mocking brow. “Took you long enough,” he drawled, but the way he rose was lithe and ready, like he’d known this moment would come.
One Commander offered a gloved hand. The other extended theirs as well. Daeran accepted both, his fingers curling between theirs, and the trio moved to the dance floor amid a bloom of murmurs.
They danced a waltz meant for two but re-imagined for three. The Commanders moved in perfect synchronicity, mirroring and folding around Daeran like twin moons orbiting a tumultuous planet. He laughed, head thrown back, glowing eyes bright, joyful, playful, and exactly where he belonged: at the center of impossible things.
Gasps turned to applause as the dance grew intricate, improvised in ways that should not have worked, yet did. The crowd saw grace and the result of weeks of hard training; those who knew the three saw more: affection, trust, a shared history written in loss and triumph on countless battlefields, and a bond of impossible depth.
As the music reached its final crescendo, the trio paused mid-spin. Daeran, flushed and breathless, grinned.
“Now that,” he said, “was very much worth the wait. Being shared by two Knight Commanders might be the most intriguing gift I’ve ever received.”
Chapter 6: The Storm Before the Calm
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
A stormy night reminds Daeran and Salvadore of their missing lover.
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The evening air was still, heavy with the promise of a storm. Clouds gathered on the horizon in slow, churning waves, their dark shapes lit by flickers of distant lightning. The Knight Commander stood motionless on the balcony of the palace, posture rigid, eyes locked on the brewing tempest. Even without the rain, he felt it, something in the air, sharp and electric. A presence. A sign?
Behind him, warmth tried to lure him back inside, and the inviting light across the grand chambers that still somehow felt too empty.
Daeran Arendae lounged on a velvet chaise near the fireplace, a glass of Absalom red cradled loosely in his fingers. His usual smirk had softened, dulled by absence and memory. “Dramatic weather. Almost makes you feel like he planned it,” he murmured, voice light but edged with something rawer.
The Commander didn’t respond immediately. Nothing gave away his worries at first glance; his appearance was immaculate as ever, a mirror of his pride and the impossible standards he held himself to. Yet tonight, he ached beneath the weight of longing.
“Thunder means he lets us know that he is well and thinking of us,” he finally said, a flicker of emotion breaching his composure.
Daeran snorted softly. “Greedy for attention, naturally. I hope it also means he is announcing his imminent arrival. Where is the point of this storm if he doesn’t crash through the doors in a cape, soaked to the bone, and some dead and surprisingly delicious animal over his shoulders to ruin the kitchen staff’s night?”
A small smile touched the Commander’s lips. “Soon. I hope.”
Silence fell, filled only by the now closer growl of thunder and the rhythm of starting rain. The storm was fierce, but familiar, like the archer they missed so bitterly, his stories, his ideas, his tender intensity, his clever ways of challenging both their egos.
Somewhere out there, Mesclavete braved the wilds. And in the storm’s fury, they felt him, an echo, a promise. Soon, he’d be back in their arms.
And, together, they waited.
Chapter 7: Nine Tall Tails
Chapter by tentiebear
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Quietness had set in. For once, there were no howls of demons, no clashing steel, only the breath between battles and the crackling of the campfire in the center of the war-torn encampment.
The day's fighting had been brutal, but the night was calm, and the soldiers started to relax in this rare, fragile peace between the enemy’s attacks.
Mesclavete, however, sat with his back straight, his gaze distant as he stared into the flames. The tension in his jaw betrayed the storm brewing inside his mind. “If anything happens, if this war takes a turn, know this,” he said suddenly, voice low but firm. “I will protect you both. No matter the cost.”
Salvadore arched a brow. He had been polishing his gauntlet with deliberate grace and now looked up, soft amusement playing across his lips. “Oh?”
“I’m serious,” Mesclavete said, determination heavy in his tone. Yet, Salvadore knew him too well. Underneath the firm resolve, he recognized vulnerability, giving away his fear.
“You and Daeran are everything,” Mesclavete continued, “I don’t care if the world burns behind me. I’ll hold the line. I’ll bleed for you.”
From his bedroll nearby, Daeran raised his head. “I’m the last to complain about such a gracious offer, but isn’t that a touch melodramatic?”
Mesclavete huffed. “I mean it.”
Salvadore set down his gauntlet and searched Mesclavete’s gaze, not with disapproval, but with quiet fondness. “You will do nothing of that sort,” he corrected gently, rising to his feet and crossing the space between them, to sit closer to his concerned lover. “I am the protector. I swore it when we took command. And I would slay the gods themselves before I let anything happen to you.”
“Blasphemy and hubris, I’m quite pleased with tonight’s entertainment,” Daeran commented.
Mesclavete blinked, startled by the softness in Salvadore’s voice and the way his hand settled on his shoulder – firm, reassuring.
“You don’t always have to be the shield,” Salvadore murmured. “It’s all right to rest. With us, you can rest.”
Mesclavete swallowed, tension draining from his posture. Daeran smiled faintly, watching them both, for once choosing silence.
They would have each other’s backs. And he would make sure – with all he got – that no harm would befall them.
Chapter 9: Hangover
Chapter by tentiebear
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Chapter 10: Getting Dapper
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Mesclavete has to bear Salvadore's and Daeran's hair experiments.
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“This is unnecessary,” Mesclavete muttered, though he didn’t pull away as Salvadore ran his fingers through his unruly curls. A quiet, discontent sound left his lips – not in true irritation, but with the unease of a man unaccustomed to being fussed over.
Well … Salvadore smiled to himself. He'd better get used to it.
“I’ve commanded armies with my hair like this; it will do for the ball as well.”
Daeran stepped closer, smirking, as he plucked a silver vial from his pocket, shiny and ornate, with a subtle emblem of Shelyn on it. “Indeed, my heart, and I can’t see your eyes when you make those heart-wrenching speeches. How am I to swoon properly?”
Mesclavete shot him a glare through a curtain of curls, but Salvadore also discovered a spark of amusement in his eyes. “You could listen instead of – ow – salivating.”
“Hold still,” Salvadore commanded as he took the product from Daeran’s hand, let the sleek fluid drop into his palm, and twisted a section of hair to gracefully stroke it in shape. His hands were firm, separating strands with methodical precision. Bit by bit, the curls were tamed, lifted from his forehead, swept back in a style both elegant and relaxed. It framed Mesclavete’s face regally, accentuating the sharp curve of his jaw and the strong intensity of his gaze.
“Trust us, you will like the result.”
Mesclavete sighed, half-exasperated, half-flattered.
“There,” Salvadore said, stepping back.
Mesclavete looked into the mirror Daeran held up. His curls, now closer to waves, were artfully drawn back from his brow.
Heaven, he was handsome, no matter his hairstyle; yet, he had a special weakness for seeing his face free from hair.
“... I look like someone who wins arguments,” he muttered.
Daeran leaned in, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “You look like someone I’d write poetry about.”
Salvadore crossed his arms, smug. “You look like a ruler.”
Mesclavete rolled his eyes – but didn’t complain.
Chapter 11: A Moment of Peace
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Just an evening of recovery and love between the battles and challenges of the war.
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The war-ridden world around him never slept, but for once, Salvadore did not heed its endless summons. Flickering firelight danced over the spines of ancient books on the low side table near him. The collection was one of the latest treasures he had saved during his journeys through the worldwound. Its immensurable worth lay within the knowledge these books carried, and he had spent the last hours reading.
His hand still rested idly on the leather-bound journal in his lap. His tired eyes, however, had left the pages of the book. Instead, they studied the two forms nestled close against him on the couch they shared.
Daeran was draped elegantly against his shoulder, his golden hair flowed like spilled sunlight over the velvet of the dark blue upholstery. As always, the aasimar looked effortlessly regal, but right now – in this moment of careless sleep – defenseless no less, with his breath soft and even, lips curled in a faint smile.
On his other side, Mesclavete rested heavier, protective even in his slumber, one hand on his thigh as though to guard him – or maybe claim him. His mahogany curls framed the visible contours of his serene features, the structure so soft that resisting the pull to reach out felt nearly impossible.
Salvadore exhaled, a slow, private sound. Here, in the dim quiet of midnight, surrounded by love he never dared expect, he let his control slip, just enough to relax.
They trusted him. Not just as a leader, but as a man. – Even when flawed, stubborn, pride-driven, or … vulnerable.
Salvadore swallowed.
With deliberate care, he slipped his arm out from beneath Daeran and surrendered to the urge. His fingers brushed through Mesclavete’s hair in a gentle caress, before he placed a kiss on each forehead – silent, reverent, as though in quiet worship.
He had fought for peace in a world that devoured it. And here, for a breath of time, he had won.
Tomorrow, he would rise and follow his duties as the Knight Commander.
But tonight, he was simply theirs.
Chapter 12: Commanders' Focus
Chapter by tentiebear
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Chapter 13: Not Another Drinking Contest
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Daeran keeps trying ...
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What had begun as a simple tease now quickly devolved into a spectacle between Daeran’s enthusiasm for his doomed idea and Salvadore’s supernatural indifference towards milder forms of poison.
The table was littered with half-empty glasses and uncorked bottles, the remains of Mesclavete’s meticulous cocktail craftsmanship. He stood nearby, sleeves rolled up, expression caught somewhere between amusement and concern.
“Another round,” Daeran declared, voice slurred, but his eyes glistened with stubborn defiance. “If I’m going down, I’m going down in glory.”
Salvadore didn’t even smirk. He lounged like a sculpture in his chair, posture perfect, not a single strand of hair out of place. A half-full glass dangled elegantly from his fingers while his movements remained untouched by intoxication.
“Entertaining, yet foolish,” Salvadore said smoothly. With an elegant motion, he emptied his drink. “You’ve been slurring since glass four. This is eight.”
An affirming hum left Mesclavete's lips. “Heavens know why you expect this attempt to go differently than the last one did. – Or the one before, for that matter. The alcohol doesn’t affect him.”
Daeran shot him a look, then raised a finger. “That is entirely incorrect, I assure you, my dear Mesclavetty. He is only half a vampire and therefore only half as immune to the effects of your delicious drinks. Now! Make the next one stronger! Put something vile in it. Burn me from the inside out if you have to. I won’t be bested by this stuck-up do-gooder.”
Mesclavete hesitated, not convinced in the slightest. “Daeran, if he is half-immune, he is still fifty percent more immune than you.”
Daeran leaned closer, eyes glassy. “We will see about that!”
Letting out a long sigh, Mesclavete relented. “Fine. But if you pass out, I’m not carrying you again.” He turned to the bottles like a man preparing a battle plan.
As he mixed, Salvadore watched silently, expression unreadable. “You’re indulging him.”
“He's hard to resist,” Mesclavete said without looking up, pouring a brilliant, ominous liquid into two fresh glasses he gave to his partners.
Daeran grinned, proudly lifting the new concoction. “I am indeed! To victory!”
Salvadore raised his glass with the faintest curl of a smile. “To inevitability.”
Chapter 14: Through the Scope
Chapter by tentiebear
Summary:
The crusade gets hungry sometimes. The commander will provide.
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Chapter 16: Two Little Heartbeats
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Knight Commander Salvadore gets unexpected company.
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Salvadore sat in the waning afternoon light that streamed through the lofty windows of the palace. The day was cold, as many days in Drezen, and the chill lingered even within its halls. His partners had departed on a brief mission beyond the city and would not return until just before dawn. In their absence, Salvadore immersed himself in correspondence, official reports, and the occasional diplomatic audience. For hours, the quiet scratch of his quill marked the passage of time, yet his gaze repeatedly strayed from the parchment before him to the unruly skirmish unfolding at his side:
Two feline guests tumbled across the thick carpet. The calico had accompanied him from Kenabres – and now apparently brought a friend.
Daeran, as he had named it – after all, it was the true winner of the count’s lookalike contest –, darted forward with grace and mischievous glee, a streak of orange, black, and white. Amusement crossed Salvadore’s features at its theatrical flair and became a full smirk when the new arrival – a grey cat with silken soft fur – met the challenge with narrowed eyes and a patient, deliberate swat, its movements precise and practiced, like a veteran ranger controlling a battlefield.
The calico reared back, made a show of indignation, then flopped dramatically onto its side. The grey cat did not pounce; it simply padded over, circled the other feline twice with a little huff, then curled neatly beside it.
They both looked up at him for a moment, wide eyes unblinking. Daeran gave a chirrup, as if offering commentary. The grey merely blinked slowly, a prideful sign of affection.
Salvadore chuckled.
“You remind me of someone, too,” he murmured towards the visitor, studying the tiny grey warrior. “Ever watchful. Always ready to strike. – Dramatic and intense, but gods help anyone who dares threaten what is yours.” He would name it Mix.
The cats yawned almost in unison. A moment later, they were nestled side by side, dozing peacefully near the fireplace.
The Knight Commander returned to his notes, a subtle warmth in his chest. For now, there was peace – however brief – and love, in two quiet heartbeats curled beside each other and granting him company.
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Chapter 19: The Journey Begins
Chapter by dmagedgoods_sphinx
Summary:
Knight Commander Mesclavete on his way. (Unfinished tarot card.)
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Chapter 20: He Said No Pickles!
Chapter by tentiebear
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
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Notes:
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