For queerbadger on Twitter, who wanted headcanony stuff! This is only the first chapter, so other ideas shall be added in later! I hope you like it!

So this is slightly AU, and set just before the war really built and became serious (so maybe around 1820). Warnings for violence, mentions of abuse, and some Vex/Rue later on

"Is this seat taken?"

Dexter Vex glanced up from the dirty spot of the table he had been staring at; his fingers tightened around his flagon of beer too tightly for a person that was comfortable. The appearance of the man before him had startled him; slightly shorter than average, tousled brown hair, startlingly blue eyes. He realised he hadn't answered yet; too busy staring. "Uh.. No. No, it's not."

Pity struck Saracen as he stood over the other man. There were trace amounts of happy surprise in Vex's expression. Did the poor sap honestly think Saracen was coming over to sit with him? Saracen didn't even know him, except to see him around.

The taller man's face twitched like he was trying to speak again, but it was either anxiety or a silly excitement that kept cutting him off.

Saracen had just wanted to take the chair and go.

It wasn't surprising that Vex was sitting on his own. As far as Saracen had been able to see, the tall man didn't exactly have any friends. He didn't even seem to try to socialise. His choice to remain neutral in the building war with Mevolent didn't gain him much popularity, either. Everyone thought him a bit strange, and avoided him carefully. Usually, Vex sat by himself in a secluded corner, nursing his drink and glaring at the table; today, he seemed to have been reluctantly forced into the middle of the bar because all the quiet, secluded corners were filled by chatting groups of friends or amorous couples.

Saracen, however, had a group he belonged to. He glanced helplessly over his shoulder at said group. Hopeless grinned and gave him a thumbs up from their full table. All Saracen needed to join the table was a chair. And the only empty chair in the whole bar happened to be directly opposite Dexter Vex.

Reluctantly, Saracen set his drink down on the table. He hoped he wouldn't offend Vex too much by simply taking the chair and leaving. Saracen pulled on the chair, prepared to drag it across the room with it, but got a sudden jerk back.

He could have sworn he heard someone across the room snort. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a grinning Ghastly and shot him a glare. Looking down, he spotted screws anchoring each rickety leg into the dirty floor. Since when?! He thought wildly. Saracen could have sworn he'd seen people rearrange the chairs before.

Vex was looking at him now, studying the shorter man like he was starting to suspect this wasn't the friendly gesture he'd originally interpreted it as.

In fact, almost everyone was watching him now. Even Shudder had stirred from passive disinterest to fascination; his head was tilted delicately to the side, as though he were committing the entire situation to memory.

Seeing no other option, Saracen slid into the empty chair and tried to play off his earlier actions as an attempt to simply adjust his chair. He shuffled a little to authenticate his actions. "So... How's it going?"

"Ah.."

"Is that too personal a question? Sorry." The dark haired man said quickly, shaking his head. To cover up the awkward silence, he took a deep drink of his beer.

And promptly choked.

Dexter stared in pure bewilderment at the red-faced, spluttering man across from him. It was times like these he regretted not having more people skills. "Um.. It's Rue, right?"

Still gagging a little, Saracen just nodded.

"Right... You okay?"

Wiping his streaming eyes, Saracen cleared his throat and nodded again. "Yeah, yeah. Just had a tickle in the back of my throat, you know?"

"Sure."

Another awkward silence.

"You can go back to your friends. I don't mind." Dexter couldn't help the flash of amusement he felt as the smaller man's eyes widened. He had actually thought he was being subtle. How sweet.

"Whuh? Oh, no! No, no- I don't know what you mean."

"Really?" Vex deadpanned.

"Want another the drink?"

It was the most unsubtle change of subject Dexter had ever witnessed, and he barely managed to hold back a laugh. "I don't-"

"I'll get you a drink."

Raising an eyebrow, Dexter remained silent and watched the smaller man stumble to his feet and hurry over to the bartender. 'Strange man,' he thought to himself. He was very aware of being eyed up by Rue's friends; the scarred man wasn't even trying to be discrete. It seemed almost as though he was judging Dexter's ragged clothes.

"I'm back! Um... I got whiskey."

Dexter eyed the drink that was set before him. "I don't have any.. I can't afford to pay you back."

"Hm? Oh, don't worry about it."

Somewhat bothered by the other man's blasé attitude, Dexter ran a hand through his dirty, blond hair. "Thank you." He mumbled reluctantly, picking up the glass and taking a deep drink.

And promptly choked.

Coughing, Vex pushed away the whiskey and glared at it. "That.. that's strong."

"You've never had whiskey before?" Saracen was watching the taller man choke, grinning slightly. Realising the grin was out of place, he quickly wiped it off his face.

"Of course I have." Dexter managed to say after his choking had subsided. In truth, he had only ever had watered-down whiskey, never such a fine quality. It burned his throat.

"Want me to get you some water?"

"I'm fine."

More silence.

"So..."

Dexter wanted to curse. Why did this man keep trying to make conversation?!

"Neutral. That's an interesting choice. I thought only the Necromancers were choosing to stay neutral."

"I've heard too many opinions on my allegiance. I don't need to hear yours."

"Hey, I wasn't going insult you or anything." Saracen frowned. "There's nothing wrong with being neutral."

"There are a lot of men who wouldn't agree with that."

"Well, I'm not one of them."

Another silence; this one, however, wasn't quite as awkward.

"So... Why?"

"Why what?" His tone was still guarded, but the alcohol seemed to be loosening his tongue somewhat. He took the chance to carefully observe Saracen.

"Why neutral? I mean, no one is ever really neutral. Everyone has a side they lean towards, even slightly. So... Which side do you lean towards?"

"If I were leaning towards a side, I wouldn't be neutral."

"Now you're just being stubborn."

A tiny smile tilted up the corners of Dexter's lips, and he noticed that Saracen mirrored the expression. "I don't know. I don't want to be involved in a war."

"No one wants to be involved in a war. But it's happening whether we like it or not."

"Hmm." Dexter leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at the smaller man. "Are you trying to recruit me, Rue?"

An airy laugh escaped Saracen's mouth, and he waved a hand. "Of course not, that would be disrespectful of your choice to remain neutral."

"Hm."

"Although I'm sure we could use a soldier like you. You look well-built. Do you work out?"

"No." Dexter arched an eyebrow.

Saracen laughed, before stopping abruptly. "No? What are you talking about?"

"I... don't work out."

"But..." His gaze fell on Dexter's bare arms. Under a thin layer of grime, the corded muscle was clearly visible. Washboard abs could be seen from under the cheap, thin woollen shirt he was wearing. "How can you not work out? Your body is, like, perfect."

The already arched eyebrow almost disappeared into Dexter's blond hair. "Hard physical labour will do that."

"What kind of physical labour?"

"I've heard of you, you know." Dexter interrupted calmly, leaning forwards across the table. "You're meant to 'know things'. It sounds a bit pretentious to me. But right now, I'm curious; why are you asking me so many questions? Shouldn't you know all this?"

"I may know things, but I don't know everything." Saracen tapped his chin calmly, tilting his head to the side. "Can you answer me?"

They were both quiet as they observed each other. "Farm work."

"Cool." A grin stretched across Saracen's face, and he opened his mouth to ask another question.

Before the words even left his tongue, and a skeletal hand fell over the brown-haired man's shoulder. "Ready to go?"

Startled at the sight of the famous skeleton, Dexter leaned back in his seat and watched as Saracen glanced around and grinned at his friends. It was as though he had expected them to creep up behind him. "I'll follow you out."

The skeleton nodded, and Dexter could feel those empty eye-sockets staring at him. It was an unsettling feeling.

Once his friends had gone, Saracen turned back and smiled at Vex. "I'd better go. Listen, think about joining us, yeah? I meant it when I said we could use a soldier like you."

Running his hand through his blond hair, Dexter sighed. "I don't-"

"Just think about it. And if you change your mind, meet me outside here tomorrow evening at six o'clock. You can come along with us on a short little recon mission, just to get a feel for our group. Nothing permanent. Will you do it?"

"I... Just to see what it's like?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not agreeing to join your little club."

"It's not a club. It's a group. It's manly. Will you come?"

"...I don't know."

"That's okay. I know you will."

...

Dexter scuffed his already scuffed shoes against the ground outside the tavern; the leather soles looked as though they were about to fall right off.

Saracen was late.

Glancing around impatiently again, Dexter decided to simply give up on waiting. No one was coming. His shoulders slumped, and he pushed himself away from the wall of the tavern and shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he stalked away.

"Hey! Hey, Vex! Where're you going?"

Turning back around, Dexter caught sight of Rue strolling up to him, grinning. "You're late." Was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Only a little bit, though."

"An hour and fifteen minutes."

Saracen tilted his head to the side and regarded the taller man curiously. "You waited for me for an hour and fifteen minutes."

"Yeah. Stupid of me."

"Can I ask why you waited?"

He wanted to make a witty, cutting remark. Instead, he found himself saying; "Nothing better to do, I suppose."

A silence fell over them, and they both watched each other intently.

Saracen was the one to break it. "The others are waiting. Come with me."

Nodding without a word, Dexter followed him down the road. He recognised the way they were walking; out of the village, towards the forest.

As they neared the dense foliage, Dexter caught sight of figures in the trees. "Your friends?" He guessed, peering passed the branches.

"Yeah. I'll introduce you now." Saracen promised as they stepped into the forest. He led the taller man through the trees and bushes, until they reached what looked like a small encampment.

The so-called 'Dead Men' were sitting, sprawled across the forest floor.

Clapping his hands together, Saracen beamed cheerfully. "Right! Introductions!"

"Shut up, Saracen."

"That's Ghastly. Ignore him, he's got a hangover."

The scarred man had his left arm draped over his eyes, as though the sunlight hurt his head. His clothes were well-tailored, but looked strong and durable; Dexter found himself envying them.

"That there is Anton Shudder." Saracen was pointing at a tall, dark, pale man now. The man nodded politely to Dexter, and his eyes glinted curiously. "Don't ask him any questions; he'll bore you to tears." Saracen added in a whisper to Dexter.

No one seemed to notice the way the tall blond man shifted uncomfortably away from the close proximity to Saracen.

"That," Saracen continued, pointing to a handsome man with golden eyes, "is Erskine Ravel. He's a total ladies man."

"I'm right here and I can hear what you're saying."

Rue pretended not to hear. "That's Hopeless," a short man, who smiled in a friendly manner, "and I'm sure you've heard of Skulduggery. I think everyone has, at this stage."

The skeleton simply tipped his head in greeting.

Trying his best not to look overwhelmed, Dexter nodded. "Hi."

"Welcome to the Dead Men, Vex." Skulduggery stood gracefully, brushing trace amounts of dirt off his woollen clothes.

"Um.. I'm not actually a part of the group yet.."

Those empty sockets fixed on him. "Of course you are."

At a loss, Dexter glanced to Saracen for help. The shorter man smiled sheepishly. "Ah... Yes. Dexter is only temporarily joining us."

"'Temporarily'?"Shudder repeated, face blank as he studied Vex. "You cannot temporarily be a Dead Man."

Pretending like he hadn't heard a word Shudder had said, Saracen stretched and pointed at the tents. "Hey, should we start setting those up?"

Shaking his head in mock defeat, Ghastly stood and began gathering his own unassembled tent up. "We're not setting up camp here. We're going out further; we need to be closer to the mountains."

"Mountains?" Dexter glanced at Saracen uncertainly. "What exactly is this 'recon' mission?"

Shudder turned his blank stare on the new member of the group again, and said seriously "We are hunting witches."