A/N (Aroihkin's Notes) 08.04.05:

Okay, obviously I'm updating this story far more than I expected to be managing. I reserve the right to drop off on my update speed at any point. I'm only working on it so much because it's damn well exploding from in my head.

Also, I'm the first to say that I'm not a romance writer. So... apologies if I suck at it, this is attempt number one. Of any fandom. There's some behind-the-scenes stuff in other fanfics in other fandoms, but... this on-screen stuff is a first by far. XD

05.02.2010: All scene-dividers have been eaten, again, on all of my stories. I give up. Please just go read this story on arowrites dot net where it hasn't been made incoherent; I am unable to keep up with this site's stupidity.

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TAF: SNAFU
entry five, always say not today

Admittedly, it took them a long time to make it up the stairs.

Akara felt slightly suspicious by the time they made it, wondering if the Archmage would actually move slower than necessary just to get back at her. They paused several times, Raistlin swaying slightly even with her shoulder under one hand and his staff firmly in the other. It wasn't really that far… up and around the tower once, right above the library. But at least Akara was a patient sort of person… if not the most trusting.

They made it, at any rate, in a tense sort of silence by unspoken agreement. The only real incident happened in the study on the way to the bedchamber door.

Majere tripped.

She was later glad that it happened in the study, and not on the stairway, because even her agility might not have prevented her number-two enemy from taking them both down. Gravity, that is… a long fall and a short stop. As it was, when the Archmage suddenly staggered and lost his balance, the worst that happened was an entirely humiliating few minutes

/ Rather than, say, splattering at the bottom of the tower. /

Quite.

Raistlin had pitched forward quite suddenly, clearly fatigued from the climb and his sickness, and Akara reacted. She'd swung around in front of him as practically a blur, immediately trying to catch the thin Mage before it even registered in her mind what was happening. He was still much heavier than she was ready to take, though, even though her arms reflexively wrapped around him with impact.

He'd slumped, Akara went to her knees at the same time he collapsed to keep him from crashing onto his face. As it was, she needn't have bothered… it was being well cushioned.

The thief blushed, staring down at the prematurely-white hair with eyes larger than they had ever been lately.

"M-Majere?" Akara gulped, "You okay?"

Something that could have been a long-suffering sigh was her only reply for a few seconds, warm air released against the rough cloth of her plain brown tunic. Akara blushed worse, heartbeat hammering, and she fought the impulse to… to what? Drop him and run? Something far worse? She wasn't sure. Finally, the Mage released the Staff of Magius--letting it rise on its own to stand upright as it was wont to do--and grasped both of her shoulders, pulling away from her.

Or, at least, as much as he could while her arms were around his own thin shoulders.

"My dear," he drawled, quiet voice oddly rough, "I would be a great deal better if you would loosen your death-grip on me."

Suddenly realizing that the Mage's back was in an odd position mostly thanks to her catch, the thief let go. Raistlin immediately surprised her, pulling her towards himself so that she leaned across some of the distance as well. Before she could think to react, he was resting his forehead on her shoulder next to one long-fingered hand, coughing raggedly into his sleeve.

"Forgive me," he whispered when the fit passed, "I must rest a moment."

"I… uh… of course." Akara stammered, holding absolutely still, barely so much as breathing. The Black-Robe seemed to know exactly what would unnerve her the most, though, and moved his other hand to the side of her neck. Even his hand radiated that unnatural heat, and it wasn't at all unpleasant… which was exactly what bothered her.

"You do not flinch from me?" That voice, ragged from coughing, still managed to hold an unintentional sort of wonder. "You do not move away…? I hardly understand…"

Now she -did- hold her breath for a moment, trying desperately to ignore the warmth he radiated, both in direct contact and breath.

"Majere, please…" she swallowed, taking a deep breath… "just shut up."

"You call me by my surname, why?" Raistlin seemed determined to harass her -worse- now, instead of just listening for once. His fingertips began to lightly trace patterns on her neck. "Do you know that there is a God by that name?"

"Ever the narcissist, aren't you?"

"You have called me many things, before."

"A beautiful narcissist, then. I stand by my point."

Raistlin laughed for the second time that day, the sound quickly turning into another fit of coughing.

"My lady," he said in a whisper that seemed to bleed in the air, his throat was by now too ragged and torn to let it sound any other way. The Mage lifted his head from her shoulder to look her in the eye, "You--"

"If you don't shut up, at least for the sake of your throat, I -will- gag you." Akara threatened, interrupting him but refusing to make eye contact, "Don't think that I won't if it will keep you from screwing yourself up worse."

He said nothing, only smirked.

"Come on, let's get you in there so you can actually -rest-. Maybe even… oh, I don't know… recover. It's a tough concept, I know. Much more fun to get sick and stay that way indefinitely."

Akara helped him to his feet, the carefully-ignored hand on her neck finally leaving to grasp the Staff of Magius again. She mentally heaved a sigh of relief at that, and summarily went about ignoring how cold that skin suddenly felt. And here was an image no one would have ever imagined… Raistlin being led to his own bed by someone other than his hulking twin brother.

Speaking of which, the Mage scanned her expression carefully once he was situated, and the thief narrowed her eyes.

"I don't pity you, so don't even think it."

He looked unconvinced, but at least did not speak.

"Listen, Mage. If I was stupid on some rainy night, got impatient, went sprinting over a slick rooftop… fell, and broke my leg, would you pity me if you found out about it?" Akara folded her arms, staring down at him from beside his bed. "Or what if I tied a slipknot without paying attention to it, jumped off a building, the loop around my ankle didn't tighten, and I crashed to my death? What then?"

Raistlin appeared surprised, but strangely pleased. He shook his head.

"Right. Why would I pity you, then? Both of our 'careers' have their risks, we both knew them when we started. If something goes wrong, so what? It isn't like it's a total surprise. You just haven't hung out with enough thieves and mercenaries, if people pity you so often."

"I've known plenty of both." he said, earning a glare.

"Fine, not enough thieves and mercenaries who know what a Mage actually is. I stick by my point here, too, thank you… very… much... …" Akara's voice faded off in sudden distraction, the hand that still had a glove on it had been captured by Raistlin. She was pulled down until she knelt awkwardly by the bed, caught in that stare.

"Majere?"

It wasn't until bloodied lips brushed her knuckles that she realized he'd pulled her glove off. They lingered a long moment, and Akara could feel her face coloring again.

"Thank you." he whispered, letting go of her hand and closing his eyes.

She stared at him in shock for several moments, before leaving the room in a hurry that could easily be considered a quick retreat.

The Shoikan Grove was indeed very potent without her amulets, and Akara could not actually enter the forest now. Instead, she sat in the clearing around the tower, as close to the terror-inducing woods as she could physically stand.

/ I'm trapped here, the amulets have vanished. /

It wasn't death that scared her now, no. Getting caught and killed? Getting tossed in jail? They scared her, but, nothing like this did. Death all by itself hadn't scared her for many years, since long before the old man with the battered hat had approached her with a wild idea.

'Why would I want to go to Palanthas at all?' she'd asked, and he'd patted her arm and said… yes she remembered it exactly…

'My dear, you will see when you get there. When you enter that tower, your life will change… as will the very world.'

'Why would I want to change the word?'

'Well, why not? Certainly you're not -busy-.'

'You're crazy, old man. A total nutcase, that's what you are.'

'Aah, so you'll take my offer?'

And then Akara had said… 'Absolutely.'

That had been pretty much that, for the time. Akara sighed, edging closer to the Grove… letting the mindless terror wash away the lingering thoughts of her new fear. Hands on her neck and lips against her skin, white hair tangled…

The thief shook her head violently. Not appropriate, not acceptable, and certainly not advisable. Bad enough to be obsessed without the physical aspect. But her first words to the Mage came back to her unbidden, recalling them as they had been scrawled, crouched next to the Mage's bed that first time.

'I don't care what people say--you're beautiful, especially when asleep.'

/ You can think someone's pretty without having a problem! /

But she hadn't -called- him -pretty-, she'd called him -beautiful-. Many, many times over… and even in person, once, now.

/ Well, he's the color of gold, and I'm a thief. Surely I'm allowed to call him beautiful. It's because I'm greedy and stereotypical, and never mind that I keep no jewelry and get rid of the stuff as fast as I can, and sleep on a straw pallet. /

And with a practiced air, she shoved self-examination back out of her head again, out the proverbial window. Damn him for making her think about her own motives so much! It wasn't something she wanted to consider! Akara wrapped her arms around her legs and set her chin on her raised knees, staring at the Grove in misery.

She never noticed the pair of golden eyes watching from a window far above, analyzing all they could before their owner staggered back to the bed, dizzy.

When Akara returned several hours later, she had decided on a few things. For one? If Majere got nosy again when his voice came back? She'd return the favor. He was just doing it to make her uncomfortable, she was sure. And for another thing? If he kissed her again, even just the back of her hand again, she was going to have to -hurt- him. Uh… somehow. She sort of hoped that would come to her if the situation arose, which she didn't want it to, of course. At all. Because she absolutely wasn't obsessed that badly.

Akara re-entered the room, this time with the same double-armful of blankets she had previously carted to the library below. She was surprised to see that he'd curled up in the middle of the bed, his knees nearly to his chest. But when she noticed he was shivering, she quickly tossed the blankets onto the bed and climbed on in order to reach him, pulling the covers over his shaking form.

He was awake… the fact startled her. Raistlin watched her from under half-closed eyelids, but did nothing at first besides shiver.

"This isn't good, is it?"

The Archmage shook his head very, very slightly, curling further.

"You're soaked."

Raistlin nodded, shutting his eyes.

"Fever?"

Another very, very small nod.

"I… I don't even know what to do..."

"Talk."

"What?"

"Tell… me a… story." he could barely whisper, "Any…thing. Keep me dis…distrac…"

"Okay, okay. You want a story, hmmm…?" she tried to make one up in her head, and failed miserably. Nothing would come to mind, not even something to start with. But there was something she -did- have… "Alright, I have one… kind of…"

Once upon a time there was a thief. A very young thief, without a home, though she lived in the same town as where she had once called home.

Oh, but she didn't start off this way, of course. Who does? Certainly not a Krinir. No, once she'd lived in a house with other people, but she had always been really quite strange. A little too strange, perhaps, never playing with the other kids, never doing much of anything. You see, she was a thief… stealing was the only thing this little girl could do besides draw. So when she first picked a pocket at age six and was given stripes, she tried to stick to drawing.

But drawing is pretty useless, isn't it? She had no head for fighting, no ability for magic. The girl could walk across a rope spanning two trees, but what good was that? She learned to run across one just for fun, enjoying the danger of slipping and falling. It happened a few times, enough to give her a taste for consequence.

However, such things were viewed as only having one viable reason behind it. And there were no thieves in the Krinir family, not now and not ever. So when she was discovered learning to throw a grappling hook and how to pick locks, she was quickly given a choice. To be disowned or to take her only marketable skill… the lute… what, I didn't mention that? She could draw, steal, and pluck some strings passably well for a kid, that's it. I'm sure I said something? Well, it doesn't matter, because she didn't want to pluck strings for the rest of her life, either…

And that's how she--

(("Horrible." Raistlin sighed.

"Hey, I'm not a story-teller." Akara said, "You want quality? You get someone that knows what they're doing to tell you stories."

The Mage shook his head, but was silent. He was shivering even worse, now, but still sweating… Akara frowned before she continued.))

--and that's how she finally became a thief. It wasn't all it was cracked up to be, let me tell you. More waiting and lurking, watching and waiting, than anyone had any right to have to do. But she was patient, and that won her through for many years. Then, one bright and sunny day, the thief is sound asleep up a tree when there comes a knocking on the trunk. She wakes up and looks down, and there's a crazy old man, beating up her tree with his staff!

'Hey!' she says, 'What are you doing that for?'

'It jumped at me, I tell you, jumped!'

'Jumped? How is that possible?'

And he proceeds to tell her, while she looks mightily interested. Truth is that she recognizes he is a Mage, albeit a crazy one, and she doesn't really want to get any limbs burned off. Killed? Fine. Mangled? No thank you.

'Truth is,' the old man admits, 'I'm looking for someone.'

'Oh?' she sits up on her tree branch, 'I might be able to help, who is it?'

'Oh, I don't know if you can help, my dear, it's a very strange case.'

'Try me,' I sa--er, that is, -she- says. 'I know where a -lot- of people live.'

((Raistlin exploded into a coughing fit, and Akara paused again to listen to the ragged, torn sounds. He definitely sounded like there was liquid in his lungs or something… was that even possible? And when it passed he shivered all the worse.

"Come on, Majere, there's got to be a way I can help you." the thief said, "Besides telling bad stories. Tea maybe? I should have made it earlier instead of running awa--"

"No," he shook his head yet again, "wouldn't… have hel… helped."

A violent shiver, and the Mage seemed embarrassed.

"Majere…"

"Con…tinue."))

Fine, I'll continue, but you better tell me whatever it is… and you seem embarrassed? No need, no need, remember--you're just going to kill me later anyway. And -anyway-…

'I'm looking for the thief, a miss Akara Krinir.' the old man says, staring at her with watery eyes.

'Oh? What for?' she asks, a bit alarmed. People don't often ask for her unless they want to kill or arrest her, you see.

'I've got a bit of an -idea- for her.'

'Well, I'm sure that you do. I don't know her, though, sorry.'

'Akara.' the old man says directly, and for a second there it's like he's not so insane… just scary. 'I want you to go to Palanthas.'

'Wait, what?' says the thief, totally taken by surprise here. They hash it over for a while, and she still doesn't know exactly what he means by the time she agrees--

((--"Wha…what was she… told?"

"That she would change her life, and the world. But none of that was important to that thief, you know, she just wanted a good challenge. Maybe followed by a nice, gory death. You know, the kind that leaves a good stain in the carpet."

"To not be… for…gotten."

"Kind of. You can forget a stain, you can cover it up… hell, you can rip out the carpet and burn it. But it's a mark left, regardless. A sign of having been." Akara had settled down next to the Mage, behind him and away from that stare… she gazed at the ceiling for a long moment, lost in thought.

"And…?"))

Well, she takes the job… no pay, no loot, but she doesn't care. Half the time she breaks into a place is just for kicks, anyway, and this is going to be unique. She has a package to deliver, you see. Thieves aren't generally the best couriers, considering, but she's a fairly trustworthy sort… the old man somehow knows this, apparently.

So a few week's travel later, there in the middle of the winter, and she's in the city. That same night, she hides her pack up a tree and… and… Majere!

Akara rolled up onto one hand, grabbing Raistlin's shoulder with the other.

"Majere!" she tried again, pushing him through the blankets until he rolled toward her onto his back. "Hey, snap out of it!"

Golden eyes had rolled back, but then they came to focus on her. He didn't stop his shaking, though, and his jaw was plainly clamped shut. The fever was bordering on hallucinations already.

"Fever… worse…" he barely managed to whisper through clenched teeth, "need… to be warm a..nd d…d-dry…"

But before she could ask what he meant, his eyes rolled back completely and he was dead to the world around him.

"Warm and dry? What the hell is that supposed to mean!" Akara fumed, "What was so embarrassing abou--"

It suddenly occurred to her. The thief stared straight ahead, wide-eyed, and tried to think of -any- other possible way. Anything. She wasn't a Mage… so magic was out, she didn't have her amulets… so going to get something or someone was equally out. Majere himself wasn't even conscious … and wouldn't likely reach consciousness again if something wasn't done, and done now.

"…Oh… oh -no-, you've got to be shitting me."

Fate clearly hated Akara Krinir.

That feeling was decidedly very mutual.

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Dragonlance © someone else.
All here that is not found in the books... is mine.
Never steal if you value your spleen.