Alaric is, not to put too fine a point on it, exhausted.
The past days have been stressful. He's spent his entire life very, very well protected and hidden within the home of a powerful noble. Had been trained there, sheltered in as much as sheltering was possible -
right up until it really wasn't at all, because politics and marriages happened.
So, very much belatedly he was off to a circle to protect alliances, immediately thrown into the Fade to deal with a demon and.
Yeah, he slept and slept deeply.
Waking up came harder than usual, and once it did there was someone there who hadn't been. Which immediately prompted him into sitting bolt upright with a very slight snarl. It was only after that that he even registered the other man's scent - Alpha - and then promptly couldn't decide whether to relax or be more defensive.
One (relaxation) more instinctive, the other (more cautious) more intellectual.
There were many perks to being the favorite, really. Outings, the garden Irving allowed him to start to keep his interest, his pick of apprentices to train -so long as Wynne kept tottering along- and a general freedom in his studies.
However, that also apparently meant you were the first name thought of when the new apostate-turned circle mage got mixed in, passed his harrowing, and thrown into his room. There were surely other omega Enchanters around who could show....Alaric? Right? Pretty sure- what his new life would entail. Apparently Anders wasn't busy enough. At least he was pretty.
He stood leaning against the bookcase that acted as a wall between Alaric and the other half of the room, book in hand, until the man jolted upright.
"Oooh...jumpy, are we? I can't say I blame you, been through a bit, haven't you?" He closed the book and let it fall to a small stack already on the floor without another thought.
"Anders, at your service, my dear lord." He swept into a deep bow that ended in a smirk as he stood upright again. "Would you like me to assume your name or would you like to introduce yourself on your own?"
He takes in the room - and especially the bookcase - with some interest, though most of his attention stays on Anders. He's interested and starts, at least, to ease some.
Then there is the 'my lord' and that bow and he goes from relatively...willing to be warm to hackled up like an angry cat.
"My name is Alaric and you may drop the condescension." Which is not to say he doesn't add: "It's a pleasure, Anders."
Pretty and feisty, ok interest a little more piqued, if he were perfectly honest. There were enough apprentices that came through, small children scared and huddled who needed a soft voice and hand on their shoulder, but those were children and not some noble's protected son. At least, that was the rumor, already burning through the halls like the rugs were made of crumbling paper.
"Is it? Some seem to think so, but we'll see, won't we? A pleasure all the same, Alaric. I promise I only give one pompous bow per person, so you're safe now."
He moved into the room more and turned to look at what was on the shelf. Elemental tomes, Arcane, Creation, Entropy, Spirit, Primal, and that lovely little selection of Chantry tomes every room came with. Delightfully boring, maybe he could scrounge up something better as a 'welcome to your gilded cage' present. "I'm here to make you feel cozy and at home and show you about said home; at least the important bits." He glanced over his shoulder. "You know, a friendly face."
He turned and leaned against the bookcase to face Alaric. "How're you feeling, then?"
It was a very good rumor that he had no intention of either confirming or denying unless well and truly cornered.
He stood up and moved toward the shelf too, scanned over the subject matter and snorted, just a bit, derisively.
Are you sure this cage is gilded?
...His standards may be a bit off. His tendency toward generosity of interpretation certainly is.
That is not, he acknowledges, Anders' fault. He stays a bit out of reach but that's more to do with just how far up his nose he wants Anders' scent than wariness, at least at this point and after that remark about grand bows.
He can appreciate a sense of humor.
"I am irritated, but physically fine and would very much like to know what you think the important parts of my home are." Which was not the same as what anyone else thought the important places are.
Alaric moves closer to the shelf and there is a moment where Anders is very tempted to move closer as well. The idea caused harmless thrill: the idea of getting close and potentially getting to see how easy the pretty new omega blushed, how he might respond to some light flirtation...the idea is enough for now. He can behave. Besides, it might be more fun to pretend he hadn't noticed how enticing his scent was, in the long term.
"Irritated is forgivable. I would be too if I were yanked away from my life and thrown in a circle- oh wait." It was every mage's story, most were just younger than Alaric. It made him even more intriguing: was he different for having been at home for so long? What where his stories? So little of interest happened in Kinloch...Anders couldn't deny his curiosity.
"An-y-way," he drawled as he moved around where Alaric had gone to poke his head into the other side of the room. No one there, at least, maybe Alaric had gotten lucky and wouldn't have a roommate. "Interesting places: dining hall, of course, library, gardens, stock room, projects..." He returns from his poking and leans against the side of the bookcase again. "Clever little nooks the templars don't know about to hide for a moment, the guard rotation, the 11th story window...a whole slew of the practical and 'impractical' take your pick."
He gave Anders' a fairly exasperated look at the 'oh wait'. He was beginning to get the idea (no, he had the idea) that this guy was both entirely charming and had had his sense of humor permanently damaged by...
...his entire life, actually.
Too many sharp edges, albeit Alaric could well understand why those edges would be directed at him. He had gotten away with far more than most, and not just in coming here very late.
"I am interested in the library, whatever is interesting in the 11th story window, and hidden corners." What? Is he supposed to be responding to everything Anders says, verbally?
...He'd actually like to but he's just not wired that way. Never has been and definitely isn't now.
He still manages to find a smile. "Mostly, the impractical. Though I do want to know what they do with their charges and their heat and rut cycles."
Alaric's exasperation was fun...his smile was nicer. The fact he wasn't put off by Anders' humor mixed with the more sharp quality to it was also endearing. Perhaps the rumors were wrong...or maybe Anders' perception of a noble mageling were, he'd have to see.
For now, the more practical question receives a shrug. "There are wards on some of the upper levels, away from both the mage's and templar's rooms where people are taken to ride it out. The healers in the tower make poultices and, if it's really bad, one of your two resident spirit healers will come to try and ease the symptoms. Assuming it's not a breeding or mated pair, of course. Then you're locked in your room with a lovely little 'don't get knocked up until we say so' potion and you're given a few days." Most of the time, from what he knew. He'd heard stories of one half of a pair being left to suffer alone because the other half was needed for something and both had to make due with potions or -worse- substitutes. Templar betas to calm one or the other...
Anders shuddered a bit to himself but turned a smile on Alaric. "Anyway, come on, I can answer questions while we use our feet. Library first, nooks and crannies along the way, and we'll end on the 11th story."
He outright rolls his eyes at that explanation. Why? Because snarling about it wasn't going to accomplish much, and he could at least pretend to be less effected than he was.
It did, absolutely sound horrible.
"How very refined," he mutters, but then. "Yes, show me. I don't think I have more questions yet, and I am very curious about the window."
There is the adjustment to communal living and the emotions that come with it, to studies, and of course there is no shortage of gossip and a nightly headache--
--but there's also Anders.
Breakfast with Anders, company and easing of the headaches, a friendly face and someone to talk to and learn from. It makes things easier, and he truly enjoys the man's company.
He even forgets (aided by there being others) that Anders' is an Alpha -- almost. He stops being wary about it, anyway. It fades to the back of his mind.
Until the combination of stress and being moved and psychic exposure and pressures or - it's hard to tell what is responsible, but he is definitely in heat and he is definitely not expecting it yet.
It isn't really deniable, though, and it's a bit less... subtle in lead up than he has come to expect. Still not immediately hit by a freight train, but more abrupt. He's relieved that he is only omega behind those wards--
at first.
It doesn't take long before he's a fevered, hurting - stomach and pelvis cramping - shivering, flushed, largely incoherent mess. The incoherent and disoriented is a problem. It means he's a freaked out mess, and responding defensively to almost everyone, refusing to go anywhere near water and just curled up tightly with his teeth clenched ignoring the hell out of guards and everyone else.
Until they get within arm's reach at which point he's trying to bite.
They don't usually call him in for only one heat, not unless it's bad. He hadn't bothered to ask who, it didn't matter, only the concern on mage's face when she told him she'd been sent to fetch him. Wynne had lessons, he only had potions and they could be taken over.
He'd gone as quickly as he could, the sixth floor mostly silent except an Alpha doing her best to keep quiet in another room he passes. Ser Della stands outside one of the smaller wards and he makes for that one, her eyes locking with his only make his pulse quicken. She's one of the few who actually care about her job, as stern as she was...and her expression spoke of concern.
He takes the lyrium potion she hands him and he pockets it as he opens the door- and stops dead in his tracks. The scent was overwhelming. Maker, no wonder they'd called him, there was only one and the room might as well have been full for how hard it hit him. No, it wasn't just that, under the instincts and the hormones and the rising warmth in him, he knew that smell.
He looks to Della, expression hard and hers changes to match. It was terse exchange: but in this, he had dominion, probably the only arena it was true. She would go down the hall, still in sight of the door, but a bit more privacy and hopefully less chance for Alaric to pick up on her while he's already vulnerable.
She moves and he' in the room with the door shut firmly behind him in the next moment. It's so strong, but he's already crossing to--to Alaric on confident instinct alone. His scent always lingered after him in Anders' mind, leaving him wanting to bury his face in Alaric's neck or hair, to pull him close. Now it was so much better (worse) and it leaves his mind cloudy and his instincts warring with his sense.
Alaric needed him- no he needs a healer. It would be so easy to bite and claim- he settles on the stool beside the bed, his hands already lighting up with light blue mana as he works on easing the symptoms. He could reach out and pull him close, wrap him in his scent in- he keeps one hand passing over Alaric's form while the other moves slowly, cautiously, towards his forehead to try and press a bit of ice mana against the skin.
He winces for the bite, sharp and hard and likely to bruise, but he doesn't heal it or think much of the throb left behind. He'd had a patient nearly stab him once, but that had far more to do with him being a mage.
He scoots closer instead and presses the cooling mana deeper as he aims to ease the aches in Alaric.
He allows himself one moment. One moment where he stops fighting the scent and simply breathes it in instead, deep and through him and it's heady and intoxicating and he wants so much more- he wants to climb into the bed with him, put his hands to better use-
And then he buries the thoughts, not to make them gone but to use them as kindling. He wants to help and care for Alaric. Because he's his friend.
Because he's his.
Anders leans forward as panacea weaves out from him inn a delicate web to enhance and soothe. The hand pressed to Alaric's forehead moves to the back of his neck to hold tightly as Anders bends down to press their foreheads together. "I've got you. You're safe, I promise. This will pass."
The magic helps him physically. Cools his temperature, eases the dull ache of something that has far too many teeth sunk too deep to be called arousl.
It's the touch and grip on the back of his neck and the sound of Ander's voice - and the words, but mostly the voice - that Alaric effectively collapses into. That' 'mine' in Anders' mind is also, at least, for the moment pretty damn good, too.
It makes him feel safer.
Yes, even with the more carnal desires.
He opens his mouth with every intention of speaking, but all that comes out is a soft groan. He gets his hand on Ander's shoulder and buries his face in the side of Anders' throat - mouth open because that way Anders' scent is both scent and taste, strong enough to block out any other 'competing' scents.
Alaric curls into him and the hand that had hovered before falls to rest on his chest. Distance wouldn't help either of them, not at this point, and some small part of his mind recognizes it's the touch that's helping, far more than the magic. He could do more touch, he was already lost.
Cooling touch at his neck, healing over his chest then around as his hand slides around to hold Alaric closer, nearly in his lap -or maybe he's nearly in the bed, his knee bracing against the edge like it is- and all he knows is the scent of Alaric and the feeling of him held close.
"Never." It's nearly growled out and that wasn't on purpose, but he doesn't apologize for it. Gregoir himself could come to take him away and Anders might just bite the Knight Commander himself.
"I'll stay until it's through." He wants to promise more, he can taste the words of promising to stay longer, but even like this he can't tell a lie like that.
He turns carefully and presses a light kiss to Alaric's temple instead of his lips like he aches to.
Alaric's instincts are all kind of tangled up, confused, and even outright messed up from how many heats he has spent entirely alone. Physically he wants Anders. His body is screaming at him to get fucked, and to do whatever he has to do to make Anders do that. The alpha he wants is right there. He's hard. He's wet. He is aching for more contact.
But his instincts are also pretty buried under 'be still, be quiet, just wait'.
The solid reality of Anders is by far stronger, but he's actually not being as aggressive as he wants (needs) to be? Even in response to that growl. Until it's over seems impossibly long and like an impossible promise, but it also feels... good? Safe again, something to believe and relax into.
Every breath he takes floods him with Anders' scent and he quickly goes from just breathing to - well, licking Anders' throat, periodically biting but gently for now.
Still completely, silent.
Definitely working on (subtly, he thinks), dragging Anders into the bed, though.
Alaric's pulling at him, licking, his teeth scrape his neck and there's no denying he's achingly hard. He can't on so many levels, but he can give Alaric more, as much as he can. He's fairly certain he might not make it out the other side, but if it helps, then it's worth it. Everything in him wants to roll out the world at Alaric's feet...but he starts with crawling into the bed with him, Anders' arm curling tight around him as he settles on his side and the hand at the back of Alaric's neck slides up to dig into the strands of his hair.
He nuzzles back into the scrape of teeth for just a moment, then pulls back to claim his lips, the kiss desperate and hot.
"Alaric..." Another kiss, tongue delving deep into the blond's mouth to revel in his taste, then he quickly tucked the Omega's head back against his neck.
The next few weeks are uneventful, for the Circle. Apprentices nearly lighting themselves on fire, some projects gone awry in the project room, but with only the result being the two mages tending it turning funny colors for a day, it wasn't so bad as it could be. No acid splashes or accidental poisonings. He has to sit in on one Alpha's rut that takes him away for a day and leaves him sleepy but functional the next, but otherwise nothing to note.
Including no letters from Kirkwall. And no thoughts of running away, not when he had stolen kisses, moments of still quiet, and a mix of earnest and silly flirtation to keep his attention captive.
It's later, just before dinner, with most of the populace heading to the hall, when a sound from down the hall from the project room catches his ear. His intended path to meet Alaric for the evening shifts and his strides become longer as he moves to investigate.
Things have been largely okay for Alaric, too, though a lot of that has to do with how much he's enjoying Anders' company for its own sake, but also how much of an escape he finds in the other man. it's a combination of sincere appreciation but also an escape from pressure, and a distraction, all tangled up in his head.
That people are growing more used to his presence and comfortable with him is a double edged sword, as is his generally standoffish demeanor.
He's a mystery who acts like a snob, to be frank.
Add in some rumor, being an omega, and being pretty and things are socially... what they are, or at least what they are becoming.
which is why he is entirely not surprised that he is eventually approached rather forcefully by a human Alpha. He is less surprised that it seems to be someone with a fragile ego, and even knowing that he is coming across as dismissive and rude he can't quite bring himself to be more than coolly polite in rejecting the advance.
he doesn't even manage coolly polite once he's been backed against a wall and the guy reaches for him.
It's not hard to piece it together with the mage's hand clutched to him but the rest of his body language pressed in close. It wasn't hard to imagine how he'd reached for the pretty Omega and gotten more than he'd bargained for.
There's one moment where his vindictive streak celebrates, but the feeling is over-shadowed by the need to protect and chase off this threat whose name is lost in the moment Anders' long strides take him across the room. In an instant, he has the man slammed to the wall beside Alaric, an arm pressed across his chest and his other hand crackling with purple sparks that he holds just over the Alpha's cheek and chin in a silent threat. A green glyph bursts out, small and just under the pair's feet, paralyzing the man -Clifton, he remembers- in place. "Did you know you can electrocute a man without leaving a mark? You can if the current is powerful and very carefully controlled." He leaned into Clifton's unmoving face, his hand barely a hair from the man's skin. "I hope that bite hurts. Don't ever try reaching for an Omega who's told you no, do you hear me?" He asks as though the other Alpha has any ability to do more than blink owlishly at him.
He had to resist the urge to add 'especially not him' to his threat, Alaric didn't deserve the extra attention that might bring. He looks over at Alaric, his eyes still hard, but his voice softer. "Are you all right?"
Alaric is more relieved than he should admit by Anders' appearance. not because he cannot handle it alone, but because Anders' response is much more moderate than his own had been about to be.
Frozen is good and-
That message is a good idea.
"I'm fine." Rattled, irritated, but fine and studying the alpha in question. "Understanding that would be a good idea. Can you keep holding him there?"
The crackle of electricity dies down and he steps to the side a bit, but not far enough to move his arm. Not that it needs to be there with the pulsing paralysis glyph beneath their feet, but the physicality felt good, felt like a solid threat where he knew he ought not actually electrocute the other mage unless he had to. He didn't want to be like the Templars: leaving no marks in their work so no proof could be found...but in this case, he may be willing to make an exception.
He waves a hand and the glyph shrinks to only under Clifton's feet. "For a minute or so before I'll need to recast. What would you like to do with him? He's under your judgement, as far as I'm concerned." Though he keeps an ear out to the hallway for the tell-tale sounds of clanking armor too, just in case anyone else is running late to dinner and headed for the stairs.
Alaric shoots Anders an amused look but doesn't answer immediately. He doesn't feel he has time to, before doing what he is going to do.
The only outward sign that anything is happening is Clifton's eyes glaze over and turn very, very vacant, to the degree that he even stops blinking. What is happening is Alaric digging deep into the man's mind, removing memory of this encounter completely, but also implanting a very, very strong suggestion that he a-) leave this room immediately, nothing is here, and b-) never, ever, touch an Omega who has said no, no matter what.
Anders blinks, more than a little confused, but he trusted Alaric's judgment. He stepped back from the guy, waved off the glyph and watched in vaguely confused amusement as he just...left without saying anything or looking back at them.
"Alright...what snazzy head magic was that, then?" He smiled, still a little strained but getting there, over to Alaric.
Alaric slumps back against the wall behind him when Anders' approaches - or more accurately when the other alpha is out of the vicinity.
"I made him forget the encounter and made sure he would not forget not to touch people who didn't want to be touched." He laughs, just a little shaky in doing so. "No idea how he will explain the bitemark to himself."
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The past days have been stressful. He's spent his entire life very, very well protected and hidden within the home of a powerful noble. Had been trained there, sheltered in as much as sheltering was possible -
right up until it really wasn't at all, because politics and marriages happened.
So, very much belatedly he was off to a circle to protect alliances, immediately thrown into the Fade to deal with a demon and.
Yeah, he slept and slept deeply.
Waking up came harder than usual, and once it did there was someone there who hadn't been. Which immediately prompted him into sitting bolt upright with a very slight snarl. It was only after that that he even registered the other man's scent - Alpha - and then promptly couldn't decide whether to relax or be more defensive.
One (relaxation) more instinctive, the other (more cautious) more intellectual.
"Who are you?"
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However, that also apparently meant you were the first name thought of when the new apostate-turned circle mage got mixed in, passed his harrowing, and thrown into his room. There were surely other omega Enchanters around who could show....Alaric? Right? Pretty sure- what his new life would entail. Apparently Anders wasn't busy enough. At least he was pretty.
He stood leaning against the bookcase that acted as a wall between Alaric and the other half of the room, book in hand, until the man jolted upright.
"Oooh...jumpy, are we? I can't say I blame you, been through a bit, haven't you?" He closed the book and let it fall to a small stack already on the floor without another thought.
"Anders, at your service, my dear lord." He swept into a deep bow that ended in a smirk as he stood upright again. "Would you like me to assume your name or would you like to introduce yourself on your own?"
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Then there is the 'my lord' and that bow and he goes from relatively...willing to be warm to hackled up like an angry cat.
"My name is Alaric and you may drop the condescension." Which is not to say he doesn't add: "It's a pleasure, Anders."
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"Is it? Some seem to think so, but we'll see, won't we? A pleasure all the same, Alaric. I promise I only give one pompous bow per person, so you're safe now."
He moved into the room more and turned to look at what was on the shelf. Elemental tomes, Arcane, Creation, Entropy, Spirit, Primal, and that lovely little selection of Chantry tomes every room came with. Delightfully boring, maybe he could scrounge up something better as a 'welcome to your gilded cage' present. "I'm here to make you feel cozy and at home and show you about said home; at least the important bits." He glanced over his shoulder. "You know, a friendly face."
He turned and leaned against the bookcase to face Alaric. "How're you feeling, then?"
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He stood up and moved toward the shelf too, scanned over the subject matter and snorted, just a bit, derisively.
Are you sure this cage is gilded?
...His standards may be a bit off. His tendency toward generosity of interpretation certainly is.
That is not, he acknowledges, Anders' fault. He stays a bit out of reach but that's more to do with just how far up his nose he wants Anders' scent than wariness, at least at this point and after that remark about grand bows.
He can appreciate a sense of humor.
"I am irritated, but physically fine and would very much like to know what you think the important parts of my home are." Which was not the same as what anyone else thought the important places are.
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"Irritated is forgivable. I would be too if I were yanked away from my life and thrown in a circle- oh wait." It was every mage's story, most were just younger than Alaric. It made him even more intriguing: was he different for having been at home for so long? What where his stories? So little of interest happened in Kinloch...Anders couldn't deny his curiosity.
"An-y-way," he drawled as he moved around where Alaric had gone to poke his head into the other side of the room. No one there, at least, maybe Alaric had gotten lucky and wouldn't have a roommate. "Interesting places: dining hall, of course, library, gardens, stock room, projects..." He returns from his poking and leans against the side of the bookcase again. "Clever little nooks the templars don't know about to hide for a moment, the guard rotation, the 11th story window...a whole slew of the practical and 'impractical' take your pick."
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...his entire life, actually.
Too many sharp edges, albeit Alaric could well understand why those edges would be directed at him. He had gotten away with far more than most, and not just in coming here very late.
"I am interested in the library, whatever is interesting in the 11th story window, and hidden corners." What? Is he supposed to be responding to everything Anders says, verbally?
...He'd actually like to but he's just not wired that way. Never has been and definitely isn't now.
He still manages to find a smile. "Mostly, the impractical. Though I do want to know what they do with their charges and their heat and rut cycles."
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For now, the more practical question receives a shrug. "There are wards on some of the upper levels, away from both the mage's and templar's rooms where people are taken to ride it out. The healers in the tower make poultices and, if it's really bad, one of your two resident spirit healers will come to try and ease the symptoms. Assuming it's not a breeding or mated pair, of course. Then you're locked in your room with a lovely little 'don't get knocked up until we say so' potion and you're given a few days." Most of the time, from what he knew. He'd heard stories of one half of a pair being left to suffer alone because the other half was needed for something and both had to make due with potions or -worse- substitutes. Templar betas to calm one or the other...
Anders shuddered a bit to himself but turned a smile on Alaric. "Anyway, come on, I can answer questions while we use our feet. Library first, nooks and crannies along the way, and we'll end on the 11th story."
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It did, absolutely sound horrible.
"How very refined," he mutters, but then. "Yes, show me. I don't think I have more questions yet, and I am very curious about the window."
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There is the adjustment to communal living and the emotions that come with it, to studies, and of course there is no shortage of gossip and a nightly headache--
--but there's also Anders.
Breakfast with Anders, company and easing of the headaches, a friendly face and someone to talk to and learn from. It makes things easier, and he truly enjoys the man's company.
He even forgets (aided by there being others) that Anders' is an Alpha -- almost. He stops being wary about it, anyway. It fades to the back of his mind.
Until the combination of stress and being moved and psychic exposure and pressures or - it's hard to tell what is responsible, but he is definitely in heat and he is definitely not expecting it yet.
It isn't really deniable, though, and it's a bit less... subtle in lead up than he has come to expect. Still not immediately hit by a freight train, but more abrupt. He's relieved that he is only omega behind those wards--
at first.
It doesn't take long before he's a fevered, hurting - stomach and pelvis cramping - shivering, flushed, largely incoherent mess. The incoherent and disoriented is a problem. It means he's a freaked out mess, and responding defensively to almost everyone, refusing to go anywhere near water and just curled up tightly with his teeth clenched ignoring the hell out of guards and everyone else.
Until they get within arm's reach at which point he's trying to bite.
Dignity.
Right.
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He'd gone as quickly as he could, the sixth floor mostly silent except an Alpha doing her best to keep quiet in another room he passes. Ser Della stands outside one of the smaller wards and he makes for that one, her eyes locking with his only make his pulse quicken. She's one of the few who actually care about her job, as stern as she was...and her expression spoke of concern.
He takes the lyrium potion she hands him and he pockets it as he opens the door- and stops dead in his tracks. The scent was overwhelming. Maker, no wonder they'd called him, there was only one and the room might as well have been full for how hard it hit him. No, it wasn't just that, under the instincts and the hormones and the rising warmth in him, he knew that smell.
He looks to Della, expression hard and hers changes to match. It was terse exchange: but in this, he had dominion, probably the only arena it was true. She would go down the hall, still in sight of the door, but a bit more privacy and hopefully less chance for Alaric to pick up on her while he's already vulnerable.
She moves and he' in the room with the door shut firmly behind him in the next moment. It's so strong, but he's already crossing to--to Alaric on confident instinct alone. His scent always lingered after him in Anders' mind, leaving him wanting to bury his face in Alaric's neck or hair, to pull him close. Now it was so much better (worse) and it leaves his mind cloudy and his instincts warring with his sense.
Alaric needed him- no he needs a healer. It would be so easy to bite and claim- he settles on the stool beside the bed, his hands already lighting up with light blue mana as he works on easing the symptoms. He could reach out and pull him close, wrap him in his scent in- he keeps one hand passing over Alaric's form while the other moves slowly, cautiously, towards his forehead to try and press a bit of ice mana against the skin.
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and Alaric initially dismisses both as some sort of hallucination. Disconnected from reality, right along with the rest of him.
Then Anders touches him and before he can quite put two and two together he has latched his teeth solidly into the side of Anders' wrist.
Just lightning fast.
He's equally fast in letting go and looking horrified, if still disoriented and miserable.
Hard to deny the feel of flesh clamped between your teeth as reality.
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He scoots closer instead and presses the cooling mana deeper as he aims to ease the aches in Alaric.
He allows himself one moment. One moment where he stops fighting the scent and simply breathes it in instead, deep and through him and it's heady and intoxicating and he wants so much more- he wants to climb into the bed with him, put his hands to better use-
And then he buries the thoughts, not to make them gone but to use them as kindling. He wants to help and care for Alaric. Because he's his friend.
Because he's his.
Anders leans forward as panacea weaves out from him inn a delicate web to enhance and soothe. The hand pressed to Alaric's forehead moves to the back of his neck to hold tightly as Anders bends down to press their foreheads together. "I've got you. You're safe, I promise. This will pass."
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It's the touch and grip on the back of his neck and the sound of Ander's voice - and the words, but mostly the voice - that Alaric effectively collapses into. That' 'mine' in Anders' mind is also, at least, for the moment pretty damn good, too.
It makes him feel safer.
Yes, even with the more carnal desires.
He opens his mouth with every intention of speaking, but all that comes out is a soft groan. He gets his hand on Ander's shoulder and buries his face in the side of Anders' throat - mouth open because that way Anders' scent is both scent and taste,
strong enough to block out any other 'competing' scents.
"Don't leave."
The only words he can find, just then.
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Cooling touch at his neck, healing over his chest then around as his hand slides around to hold Alaric closer, nearly in his lap -or maybe he's nearly in the bed, his knee bracing against the edge like it is- and all he knows is the scent of Alaric and the feeling of him held close.
"Never." It's nearly growled out and that wasn't on purpose, but he doesn't apologize for it. Gregoir himself could come to take him away and Anders might just bite the Knight Commander himself.
"I'll stay until it's through." He wants to promise more, he can taste the words of promising to stay longer, but even like this he can't tell a lie like that.
He turns carefully and presses a light kiss to Alaric's temple instead of his lips like he aches to.
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But his instincts are also pretty buried under 'be still, be quiet, just wait'.
The solid reality of Anders is by far stronger, but he's actually not being as aggressive as he wants (needs) to be? Even in response to that growl. Until it's over seems impossibly long and like an impossible promise, but it also feels... good? Safe again, something to believe and relax into.
Every breath he takes floods him with Anders' scent and he quickly goes from just breathing to - well, licking Anders' throat, periodically biting but gently for now.
Still completely, silent.
Definitely working on (subtly, he thinks), dragging Anders into the bed, though.
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He nuzzles back into the scrape of teeth for just a moment, then pulls back to claim his lips, the kiss desperate and hot.
"Alaric..." Another kiss, tongue delving deep into the blond's mouth to revel in his taste, then he quickly tucked the Omega's head back against his neck.
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Including no letters from Kirkwall. And no thoughts of running away, not when he had stolen kisses, moments of still quiet, and a mix of earnest and silly flirtation to keep his attention captive.
It's later, just before dinner, with most of the populace heading to the hall, when a sound from down the hall from the project room catches his ear. His intended path to meet Alaric for the evening shifts and his strides become longer as he moves to investigate.
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That people are growing more used to his presence and comfortable with him is a double edged sword, as is his generally standoffish demeanor.
He's a mystery who acts like a snob, to be frank.
Add in some rumor, being an omega, and being pretty and things are socially... what they are, or at least what they are becoming.
which is why he is entirely not surprised that he is eventually approached rather forcefully by a human Alpha. He is less surprised that it seems to be someone with a fragile ego, and even knowing that he is coming across as dismissive and rude he can't quite bring himself to be more than coolly polite in rejecting the advance.
he doesn't even manage coolly polite once he's been backed against a wall and the guy reaches for him.
Meaning he, um, bites the guy.
On the hand.
Hard.
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There's one moment where his vindictive streak celebrates, but the feeling is over-shadowed by the need to protect and chase off this threat whose name is lost in the moment Anders' long strides take him across the room. In an instant, he has the man slammed to the wall beside Alaric, an arm pressed across his chest and his other hand crackling with purple sparks that he holds just over the Alpha's cheek and chin in a silent threat. A green glyph bursts out, small and just under the pair's feet, paralyzing the man -Clifton, he remembers- in place. "Did you know you can electrocute a man without leaving a mark? You can if the current is powerful and very carefully controlled." He leaned into Clifton's unmoving face, his hand barely a hair from the man's skin. "I hope that bite hurts. Don't ever try reaching for an Omega who's told you no, do you hear me?" He asks as though the other Alpha has any ability to do more than blink owlishly at him.
He had to resist the urge to add 'especially not him' to his threat, Alaric didn't deserve the extra attention that might bring. He looks over at Alaric, his eyes still hard, but his voice softer. "Are you all right?"
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Frozen is good and-
That message is a good idea.
"I'm fine." Rattled, irritated, but fine and studying the alpha in question. "Understanding that would be a good idea. Can you keep holding him there?"
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He waves a hand and the glyph shrinks to only under Clifton's feet. "For a minute or so before I'll need to recast. What would you like to do with him? He's under your judgement, as far as I'm concerned." Though he keeps an ear out to the hallway for the tell-tale sounds of clanking armor too, just in case anyone else is running late to dinner and headed for the stairs.
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The only outward sign that anything is happening is Clifton's eyes glaze over and turn very, very vacant, to the degree that he even stops blinking. What is happening is Alaric digging deep into the man's mind, removing memory of this encounter completely, but also implanting a very, very strong suggestion that he a-) leave this room immediately, nothing is here, and b-) never, ever, touch an Omega who has said no, no matter what.
"Let him go. I'll explain afterward."
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"Alright...what snazzy head magic was that, then?" He smiled, still a little strained but getting there, over to Alaric.
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"I made him forget the encounter and made sure he would not forget not to touch people who didn't want to be touched." He laughs, just a little shaky in doing so. "No idea how he will explain the bitemark to himself."
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