INT 9

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/29912301.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Dark Souls III
Relationship: Ashen One/Orbeck of Vinheim
Character: Orbeck of Vinheim, Ashen One (Dark Souls)
Stats: Published: 2021-03-08 Words: 2086

INT 9
by senatorwiggles

Summary

One of my favorite ship dynamics is dumbass/intellectual, so here's a certified dumbass

with an intellectual.

“You again?” Orbeck scoffed as he saw the woman approach. There was the ghost of a laugh
when he scoffed, and that was enough. “Nothing has changed,” he said almost defeatedly as he
turned back to scowling at the scrolls before him. He hadn’t left the ruins Augusta had first found
him in, and that much pleased her. It made him easy to find.

“That much is clear.” She tromped over to him, her mud laden boots clopping awkwardly against
the stone. “I got something for you, you know.” She might not have had the head for magic, but
she had some sense of people. Before her death and during her first round of undeath, she fancied
herself an explorer. A traveler. She made a living by selling little treasures, and both
understanding people and having the ability to carry goods were her two most important skills.
She kept her sword at her side and kept a well secured pack on her back. The key to not getting
hurt was to firstly not get into a fight and to secondly not get hit. Padded cloth and well placed
patches of hardened leather typically saved her when she couldn’t do either.

But for now she dropped her pack to the ground. It landed with a thud, and she pretended not to
notice how the sorcerer eyed her digging through it. She raised a finger, a gesture for him to wait,
then pulled out a parcel wrapped in fabric.

Orbeck cautiously took the parcel from her as if he feared some sort of trap or foul play. It was
sloppily wrapped, but it had the density of a book, and he couldn’t help the small well of
excitement that burbled in him as he pulled away the fabric.

Augusta watched him eagerly as his expression shifted from curiosity to stifled laughter. He set
the book down and turned away quickly hiding his face from her, his hand rising to his mouth.

“You’re always reading,” she explained. “I figured you could use something a little less heavy.”
“Something more on your level?” He shot back without turning.

“I know I don’t get sorcery, but that doesn’t mean I can’t read. I was really happy when I found
that, you know.”

“Sharing the Viscount’s Flame is a far cry from what I would like to spend my time on.” He
turned, his composer regained, but the woman before him just shrugged.

“Keep it. You might like it.” She grinned, her chin tucking down as she bit her lip. “Even if you
don’t, you got a kick out of it. If you’re still around, maybe I’ll have another one for you.”

Orbeck paused. He searched her face, scrutinizing her for any signs of ill intent, but either she was
unreadable or genuine.

“Why?” He asked. She laughed.

“You’re cute. Because you’re smart, you’re handsome, and you thought my gift was funny.”

He turned again towards his work and stared pointedly at the scrolls laid out before him. Though
his hair hid his face, Augusta suspected he was blushing. She wondered how far she could push
him.

“Thank you,” he muttered, eager for her to leave him to his sudden bout of shyness.

“You’re welcome. You know, I like to call myself a treasure hunter, but really I’m just a
scavenger… is there anything you want me to keep an eye out for?”

“There is no guarantee that we will meet again.”

“Yeah? Well tell me where you plan on heading after this, and maybe we’ll have a better chance
of it. Unless you don’t want to meet again. I never understood you intellectual types. Never
saying what you mean and stringing poor little ladies like me.”

The man lifted his head as he deliberated telling her his plans. At worst, he would have the
occasional loud visitor with terrible taste in fiction dropping in on him. If he was fortunate and
found a library, then she would become an occasional welcome change in pace. Something to
break up the sheer density of study.

“Very well.” Orbeck turned towards her. “I am searching for knowledge. Specifically that of
sorcery. I am here following the lead of the Crystal sage. Down this path leads to an undead who
appears to be one such sage, but I have yet to confirm that. They could merely be a very
convincing imposter. Attempts to speak with them have only resulted in aggression.

“When I am through here, I will search for a way to either Carthus or Lothric. While I can see
Lothric in the distance, I have no way to get there. Both places have great libraries, but neither
were known for their sorceries. There is also Irithyll, but the cold does not suit me, and the
kingdom is known for Deep Miracles. There is, lastly, the Profaned Capital. I do not know what
sorts of texts it will have, nor do I know how to reach it.”

Augusta nodded at first. That seemed like something he would be looking for, but it was still an
incredibly vague concept, and it didn’t really help. He looked so serious and determined that she
didn’t want to seem any less competent than he already likely thought of her, but she only really
had two options. The first: admit she still didn’t know what he tangible things he was looking for,
appear like a clueless idiot, but be able to actually find the things. The second: pretend she knew
what he was talking about and inevitably make a fool of herself by bringing him the wrong things.
She went with the first.

“So… books?” Augusta shrugged at her own suggestion.

Orbeck stared then chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “Books. Books, scrolls, anything that details the
secrets of sorcery. Its fundamentals, its history, various spells. That is what I am searching for.”

He had a quiet, whispery laugh, and it reminded her of the wind through grass and leaves. Augusta
bit her lip as he turned his face away again. She would go through great lengths to hear that laugh
again.

-----

Augusta sighed. Orbeck had mentioned four different places he might end up, and she thought to
find them first. If she found them before he did, then she could take him there herself. A part of
her wished she was attracted to someone with a skillset more like her own. To someone who found
her manner and methods desirable, but she didn’t. Her heart had settled on a man who needed to
see her skills in action or the results before he understood their value.

Little did she realize Orbeck already saw value in her and her methods.

But she felt a bit like a failure even to her own standards. Carthus, Lothric, the Profaned Capital,
all of these places were beyond her. The road to Lothric had split in some massive upheaval, and
Irithyl was blocked by some strange barrier.

She sat in a tree with her feet dangling down above the shore of a river. Even without her desire to
impress the man, she was still an explorer. Rivers always lead to civilization, and even if she
couldn’t impress him with magic, she could still find some sort of token to give him. The thought
filled her with warmth until she remembered he planned on leaving. She might not see him again.

The thought stung, and she wanted to drop out of the tree and race back to the little study he’d set
up just to see if he was still there, but it had already been three weeks since she’d seen him last.
Her only real hope was to continue exploring, and maybe she’d run into him again.

-----

Augusta slowly trudged back to the ruins with the faint hope she might see him again. She chided
herself for being so driven over a man she barely knew, but the heart wanted what it wanted, and
his laugh echoed through her mind like a siren’s call.

When she arrived, Orbeck was gone. The candles had been blown out, and the scrolls stowed
away. Heartbreak settled on her shoulders as she ran her hand over the dirty wooden desk. Leaves
had fallen from the trees above and been blown in and about before resting on the wood. Augusta
furtively pulled one of the scrolls out from its shelf and looked over it wondering if the handwriting
belonged to the man she longed to see or some stranger.

As her melancholy began to take hold of her, her gaze fell upon an old leather bound book.
Something small and familiar tucked away amidst the abandoned papers. The book she’d given
him.

She wanted to cry at having been scorned in such a way. Perhaps later she’d let herself sob, but for
now she held her head high. No man was worth that. And she’d probably been gone for so long
he thought she forgot about him. Or maybe he’d just forgotten about her. Well, if that was to be
the end of her little crush, then she might as well make sure of it.
Augusta reached into a side pocket and pulled out a pendant. It was a pretty little thing. A heavy
opalescent stone framed in silver on a pewter chain. It tingled when she touched it, and it made her
think of him when she first found it. He made her tingle when she spoke to him. But she had no
plans to search for a man she barely knew, so she placed the necklace on the desk. Let someone
else find it and value it.

She left the study, turning down the stone stairs with her thoughts elsewhere when she nearly
collided with a figure. Expecting only hollows, Augusta stepped back and threw a fist forward
landing a solid blow in the undead’s gut. He fell with a loud grunt and landed squarely on his ass.

“Orbeck!” The man’s identity dawned on her with sudden horror. “You’re here!”

He looked up at her baffled and betrayed. “Why did you hit me?”

“I thought you were a hollow!” She stepped forward, then took a half step back before decidedly
moving towards him and holding out a hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt-- well I meant to
create distance. I thought you were gone, so I…” She bit her lip. “I got you something…”

Orbeck stared at her hand before taking it and standing. “Dare I ask?”

“It’s not another book…” She looked askance. Ashamed.

“Ah.”

“I left it on your desk…”

“Did you now?” He stepped past her when she made no move to go back to his study. “Why
would you do that if you had thought that I had left?”

When she didn’t respond, Orbeck turned back to look at her. She was avoiding his gaze with her
shoulders slumped forward. As though she didn’t want to be there.

“I am not holding you here, Augusta.” He said her name, and her face lit up. “But it has been
some time, and I find your brusque company refreshing. You are welcome to stay awhile.”

She bit her knuckle. Her confidence had been destroyed by his perceived rejection then her
reaction to seeing him. This shyness was a facet to her Orbeck had not yet seen, and it worried
him. For their few meetings, she’d been full of bravado and flirtations, but now there was none of
that. He quickly dipped his head around the corner to see that yes, his study was still fully intact.
She wasn’t hiding something she’d done.

Orbeck huffed. “Augusta, I have taken far worse hits in my life, and you apologized. It’s done.”
She looked up at him, her posture relaxing.

“Did you… like the book?” The cautious words heralded the return of the woman he knew, and a
smile spread across his face.

“I found it very enjoyable, if a bit silly. I counted the hands in a few of the scenes--”

“They don’t make sense!” The shell had shattered, and Augusta had returned. She threw her arms
in the air and became suddenly aware of Orbeck’s smile. He’d read the book. He’d read the book,
and he remembered her name. And there she was, ranting about the poorly written romance novel
she’d dumped on him. He laughed at her display, at her change, and his laugh permeated her to
the core. His soft, whispering laugh like wind through the trees.
And she loved him for it.

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