chipfics

[chipfics]

Not Alone

based on a tumblr prompt setting: Trevelyan siblings au, but centers on Lavellan companion and Cassandra. Summary: Cassandra spends a late night with a bottle and her thoughts, but is interrupted by a visitor. 1200 words.

“I know I'm not the person you want, but I'm here.”

Cassandra looked away from the bottle of brandy in her hand and straightened from where she was leaned against a wall, looking over the dark village of Haven.

The person who had spoken was the Dalish elf, the friend of the Trevelyan siblings...what was his name...Allain.

Cassandra had not interacted with him much directly outside of work. He had offered his services to Leliana and was working with the scouts and with the Trevelyans. He had been back and forth from the Hinterlands for weeks. Usually if he wasn't working, Cassandra saw him with Tristan and Alyssa, or curled up by a window somewhere with a book of poetry or a journal he was always scribbling in.

“I don't know what you mean,” Cassandra said plainly, and looked back over the village. The only lights were outdoor braziers that marked pathways and a few campfires outside the walls where the soldiers were set up in tents.

“You're lonely,” Allain said softly, and Cassandra released a sharp breath through her nose.

What she had seen of Allain, he was open and easy and silvertongued. Always ready with a compliment or a one liner, never shying away from questions...but not quite always answering them either. She had thought him honest at first, but the more she observed the more she realized he never more than half answered any query about his personal life or past. He gave just enough to satisfy, but not enough for anybody to truly know him. As she sipped her brandy some more, she decided that must have been what Leliana thought would make him a good scout. That, and his reportedly keen skill with a bow.

It was dark, so observing him from the corner of her eye was a bit difficult, but she could make out the features she had noticed in daylight hours well enough. His hair was mussed and chin length, swept to one side with a small braided portion tucked behind one ear. His build was lithe but strong, especially in the arms and shoulders, his skin pallid. His eyes were very blue, like a summer sky, which made the directness of his gaze unnerving at times. And over the left one there was a deep and painful looking scar.

Long eyelashes though, and a gracefully curved mouth...he was a pretty man, to be sure. But Cassandra turned her gaze forward again. Lonely.

Allain wasn't wrong, but Cassandra wasn't sure she liked that he had noticed. She stayed quiet, and it wasn't long before Allain decided to elaborate of his own volition.

“Alyssa tells me you were the right hand of the Divine,” He said, “That the two of you were even friends.”

Cassandra took a swig from her bottle. Allain looked out over the village and the laughter that had seemed always present in his eyes before faded to a cool, sorrowful gaze.

“Everyone here is hurting,” He said, “Old wounds, raw wounds, wounds so fresh the sting of tears has yet to stop. It all gathers into one big hurt, like a fog over the village. It's a choking, blinding sort of thing and it makes it hard to know who needs what help.”

“Supply lines have become more stable,” Cassandra replied, “We have plenty of elfroot.”

“For the cuts and burns, yes.” Allain said, “But you know I wasn't talking about that.”

“If you are so concerned about aching hearts,” Cassandra told him, “There are better places your effort could be spent.”

With the recruits missing home, Cassandra thought. With the wounded soldiers trying to fight off nigthmares of the battles they had been injured in. Healers who had lost patients. There were plenty of places Allain could go if he wanted to offer company to someone who was hurting. Cassandra had always done fine on her own- why should she need a shoulder now?

“I'm right where I want to be,” Allain replied easily. Cassandra gripped her bottle a little tighter.

Allain did not move, so she sighed an relented.

“Divine Justinia was a dear friend, yes.” She admitted quietly, “Her loss is...difficult to accept. I have precious few friends. Now there is one less.”

Silence for a moment, and then Allain spoke.

“You know,” He said, “I am an orphan. My parents died when I was but a wee thing.”

“I was passed round from one person to another in my clan growing up, never really part of any family. By the time I was an adult, I was so used to it that I hadn't ever managed to make any close friends, even in my age group. I wasn't on bad terms with the clan, and I did my work as a hunter diligently, but I wasn't at home there.”

“That is why you left,” Cassandra concluded.

“Aye,” Allain said, “The Keeper...when Alyssa showed up near our camp she was sick, starved, half dead. She took pity and let her stay just long enough to recover. I was posted as her guard. It was the first time anyone had put so much effort into finding out about me.”

Allain continued. “Now that I'm with the Inquisition I'm surrounded by people who are always asking me questions. About the Dalish, about hunting, about my likes or dislikes...it's made me realize that while perhaps my clan never reached out to me much, I never tried to reach out very much either.”

With that, he looked at Cassandra. “I get that same feeling from you, Lady Seeker, that you don't know how to reach out to others.”

The words had a weight to them that settled on Cassandra immediately. They hit the nail on the head. Cassandra could lead soldiers, interrogate prisoners, fight outlaws- but she had never learned how to offer any of herself to anyone. Justinia had reached out to her. Accepting  that extended hand had not been easy, either. At all's end, Cassandra just did not know how to connect with people.

“And is that why you are here, then?” She finally asked, looking pointedly at her bottle.

“I suppose it is, yes.” Allain said gently, “Our demeanors differ greatly, but our shortfalls are not so different. I see a kindred spirit in pain when I look at you.”

He reached a hand out and squeezed Cassandra's shoulder. When she met his eyes, they were full of something warm, something gentle, something like a hand reaching out to take hers.

“I may not be able to bring your friends back,” Allain told her, “But I hope it is not so late that I cannot offer myself as a new one. We both deserve better than loneliness.”

Cassandra held his gaze for a long moment. Perhaps it was the brandy starting to get to her, but she decided she rather liked Allain’s eyes. So light and blue and airy looking, and so perceptive. Finally, she found a reply.

“Do you drink brandy, Allain?” She held up her bottle and offered an awkward half smile.

Allain laughed softly out his nose. “Let us find some glasses, shall we?” He said.

[chipfics]

Prompt List

I compiled some prompt lists I found to form a list of 76 kiss prompts. Send in a number and a character and one of us shall write a one shot based on it. 

“Good morning” kiss

Kiss on the forehead 

Drunk/sloppy kiss

Awkward kiss 

Angry kiss 

“I’m sorry” kiss 

“I’ve missed you” kiss 

Seductive kiss

“War’s End” kiss 

“Goodbye” kiss

“I almost lost you” kiss

Kiss on the nose 

Kiss on the ear

Kiss on the neck

Kiss on the back 

New Year’s kiss

Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys

“I do” kiss 

Shy kiss 

Surprised kiss 

Kiss on a dare 

Sad kiss 

Exhausted parents kiss 

Kiss of life 

Kiss inspired by a song

Jealous kiss

Giggly kiss

First kiss 

Last kiss 

Kiss under a full moon

Kiss at dusk 

Kiss at dawn

Kiss in a dream 

Returned from the dead kiss 

Themed kisses

“We can never be together” kiss 

It’s-the-end-of-the-world kiss

Awkward teenage crush kiss

Spin the bottle kiss

Hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss

Forbidden kiss

Sated kiss

Soft kiss

Tender kiss

Passionate kiss

Long kiss

Quick kiss

Morning kiss

Before Bed kiss

In Secret kiss

Public kiss

Accidentally Witnessed kiss

Against a wall kiss

Against a Locker kiss

True Love kiss

Caught off-guard kiss

Breaking The Kiss To Say Something, Staying So Close That You’re Murmuring Into Each Other’s Mouths

Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/Onto The Bed

Kissing So Desperately That Their Whole Body Curves Into The Other Person’s 

Throwing Their Arms Around The Other Person, Holding Them Close While They Kiss

Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp

Lazy Morning Kisses Before They’ve Even Opened Their Eyes, Still Mumbling Half-Incoherently, Not Wanting To Wake Up

Routine Kisses Where The Other Person Presents Their Cheek/Forehead For The Hello/Goodbye Kiss Without Even Looking Up From What They’re Doing

Being Unable To Open Their Eyes For A Few Moments Afterward 

One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other 

Staring At The Other’s Lips, Trying Not To Kiss Them, Before Giving In

When One Stops The Kiss To Whisper “I’m Sorry, Are You Sure You-” And They Answer By Kissing Them More

A Hoarse Whisper “Kiss Me”

Following The Kiss With A Series Of Kisses Down The Neck

Starting With A Kiss Meant To Be Gentle, Ending Up In Passion

A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss

When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead 

Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Do Wn And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes 

Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap 

Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing 

Top Of Head Kisses

[chipfics]

misc prompts for your feels

“ unique just means alone. ” “ i’m not afraid to die, just wish i could live a little first. ” “ i know i’m a monster, but you look at me like i’m a man. ” “ there’s nothing i wouldn’t do to keep you safe. ” “ we all have sins to pay penance for. ” “ don’t look at me like i’m a hero. you’ll only disappoint yourself. ” “ sometimes when you look at me it’s like…it’s like you’re staring straight past my flesh and into my soul. ” “ you make me want to live. ” “ i know i don’t deserve forgiveness, but i like the idea that some people think i might. ” “ i trust you with my life. ” “ you’re more like family to me than my own blood. ” “ i’ve never had any sort of family before. ” “ your life is far more precious than mine. ” “ i don’t care what happens to me. as long as you’re safe. ” “ i need you to live…cause if you’re gone then, i don’t know what the point of it all is anymore. ” “ i know i’m not the person you want, but i’m here. ” “ i love you, and i know you may never feel the same. but i’m okay with that. ” “ i couldn’t say no to you even if i wanted to. ” “ you’re worth more than this. ” “ why do you walk around as if you’re somehow less valuable than the rest of the world? ” “ please, let me help you. ” “ just let me do this for you. ” “ you do have something to live for. you have me. ” “ you’ll always have me. ” “ i see you. i know you feel so invisible all the time, but you’re not. not to me. ” “ it’s okay to be angry, you’re allowed to be upset about what happened to you. ” “ don’t you realize you deserve more than this? ” “ you’re not a machine or— or some thing. you’re a person, and i’m sorry anyone ever made you feel otherwise. ” “ please, just hold on a little longer. i can’t lose you too. ” “ this scar..what happened? ” “ if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. ” “ you’re bleeding— how long have you been hiding this?! ” “ sometimes i realize one day i could die, i could just disappear and the world would be none the wiser. there’d be no one to miss me and that terrifies me more than death itself. ”  “ i’m not sure i know who i’m supposed to be anymore. ” “ my mind is so loud and i’m afraid it’ll never be quiet again. ” “ when i’m in a crowd i just want to melt away and yet, when i’m alone it’s somehow worse. ” “ loneliness is a poison and i’ve been drinking it for so long, i don’t there there’s an anecdote to save my soul. ” “ i don’t care if the world knows my name, i just want you to remember me. ” “ you deserve more than i could ever give you. ” “ i love you. i know that’s not enough, but i do. ” “ you’re safe with me, you always will be. ” “ you make me feel safe. like i’m allowed to be anything i want. ” “ i’d do anything to be the person you love again. ” “ i’ve got you, you’re safe. ” “ just rest, i’m here. ” “ you can stay with me tonight. ”

[chipfics]

Anchored- Prologue

About: Trevelyan Siblings AU novelization. This chapter is setup and background. Also on AO3.

It had been only a year since the mage rebellion had begun in full, but Circles had fallen left and right for years prior, starting around the time of the Fifth Blight.

It had been three and a half since Ostwick's Circle fell to infighting. Tristan Trevelyan had counted the days.

Three and a half years since he had run into it, burning and full of screaming and fighting, and carried his older sister out and through back roads to the edge of the city. Three and a half years since they had said goodbye. Just as much time since he had heard anything of her. If she was even alive, she was far away.

He knew, he was sure, why she had never kept in touch. Declared an apostate, it would only cause the family trouble for her to be in contact. They had close ties to the Chantry and it was already whispered about that their second child was a mage. For them to harbor her in the midst of a rebellion would have been disastrous for their reputation.

Tristan knew his family would not have cared. Though not always close knit, they were on good terms and loyal to each other. Their parents had retired and left management of the estate to their eldest son Roland five years ago already. He was ten years ahead of Alyssa and fifteen from Tristan, but he was protective of them both and would have fought the Chantry with his own hands to protect his sister, if she'd given him the chance.

But rather than drag her family into things Alyssa had fled from Ostwick less than a day after the Circle fell. The last time Tristan had seen her he had watched her striding into the distance from the city gates, northward.

And now the word had spread of the Conclave- peace talks between the Templars and mage rebellion, organized by Divine Justinia herself.

Many noble houses would be sending representatives, and the Trevelyans were no exception. Roland was too busy running the estate and raising his children, and their parents had retired already. With Alyssa in the wind, if she was even alive, Tristan had been chosen to attend.

At twenty-five he was well into adulthood. Unmarried and unattached, he had spent most of his time assisting Roland in what ways he could with estate management since coming of age. It was somewhat expected he would eventually join the Chantry in some capacity- many youngest children of their family always had- but Tristan himself was not sure what he wanted.

But he knew one thing, as he went about packing his things that afternoon. The war was getting too many innocents caught up in it. To whatever end, he wanted it to stop. And if this Conclave could achieve peace, then he wanted to do his utmost to help it along.

He did not look the part of a diplomat. He was very tall, very broad and strong in build, and had never excelled at dealing with people. The stutter and timid cringe of his youth were behind him, but he still found himself more easily flustered and taken off guard than most. He hoped it would not work too much to his detriment when he arrived in Haven.

He would make the journey first by boat from the port and then by foot south to the village of Haven. It would take a week at least, a long and lonely road and his first time outside of Ostwick since before he came of age. Tristan ran a hand through his mussed hair for the hundredth time that day and sighed deeply.

The sound of small feel scampering down the hallway caught his attention and he turned just in time for two children to scramble in through the doorway of his quarters. A boy of twelve and a girl of eight- his brother's children Elliot and Annalise.

They were both head to toe covered in freckles, a Trevelyan trait, but aside their features were more like their mother's. Curly dark hair, dark eyes, and darker skin.

Annalise attached herself immediately to one of Tristan's legs and Elliot to his waist.

“Are you leaving today, Uncle Tristan?” Elliot asked immediately, “I didn't think you'd be going so soon.”

Tristan's brother and his wife were loving parents, but also busy. As he had yet to settle into a full career of his own he often found himself devoting time to making sure his niece and nephew were not lonely. He walked them to their tutoring sessions, took them out riding, played with them in the garden. They were naturally very attached to him as a result, and would be sad to see him go.

“The business is a bit urgent, I'm afraid.” Tristan offered gently, “Did your parents explain what is happening to you?”

“A little,” Elliot said, “They said that the Divine is going to try and get the mages and templars to stop fighting.”

“More or less, though I doubt it will be that simple.” Tristan replied, “A lot of nobles will be showing up to try and help. I'll be one of them.”

“Are you going to meet the Divine, Uncle?” Annalise bubbled.

“I doubt I'll have any kind of role as important as that,” Tristan laughed, “I'll be just a minor representative, I'm sure. But I'll do what I can.”

Elliot backed away a little and fixed him with a deep gaze for a moment. “Uncle,” he said slowly, “If the mages are safe again, will Auntie come home?”

Tristan was quiet for a long moment. He didn't know what would happen at the Conclave, if peace was even possible with the current mindsets of the factions involved. If things went poorly, the fighting may just get worse. But he hadn't the heart to say that to the children looking up at him hopefully. They had been terribly fond of Alyssa too. Of course they missed her- even if they were starting to forget things about her.

“...I hope so,” He eventually said, and pulled both children up into his arms for a bear hug, “Thank you for coming to see me. I still have packing to do, but I promise I'll say goodbye before I leave.”

The children ran back out as soon as he put them down, and he returned to getting his things together.

---===---

His journey south was blessedly uneventful, if increasingly chilly. It was the start of winter, and the south was already so much colder than Ostwick was. Tristan found himself in the company of more and more travelers as he went- mages, templars, nobles, pilgrims. The tension felt thicker the closer he came to Haven, and by the time he arrived it was almost a tangible object in the air. Tristan himself felt somewhat on edge looking at mages and templars sending each other death glares as he passed through the gates. He had brought his greatsword with him for protection on the road. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it here.

Haven was not as small as it had once been, but it was still not a very large place at all. The buildings were all bare and simple, very little paint, the roads were muddy and slushy. He felt eyes on him as he walked. Unnerving as that could be, he was used to it and no longer surprised. He was so tall, nearly six and a half feet- it was impossible for him not to stick out, especially with the addition of his brightly colored hair and green eyes.

He made for the Chantry at the north end of the village first. Likely there were clerics in it who could direct him to some lodging and where to check in, if there was any such protocol set up yet.

It was the tallest, grandest building in Haven, and that was no surprise. The Chantry was fond of grand things, as much as it tried to pretend it wasn't. Tristan was somewhat religious, but he had always felt there was something off about the level to which the Chantry worried about surface appearances. There were in fact many things he did not really like about the Chantry as a larger organization- but it wasn't his place or privilege to be making criticisms right now.

As expected there were many milling about and working and talking even outside the Chantry itself. Tristan was hard pressed to find anyone not occupied, and so he went inside hoping to have more luck locating someone who wasn't busy. There was so much work to be done, he was sure, that he would hate to tear anyone away from a task.

Finally, he did find a young cleric about his own age just walking out of a side room, and he paused to get her attention.

“Excuse me sister,” He said politely, “I've just arrived from Ostwick, representing the Trevelyan estate. I'm looking for lodging?”

The young woman looked at him with raised brows, having to crane her neck, but offered a polite bow all the same. “Welcome, my lord,” she said, “I'm afraid there isn't much in the way of proper lodging available just now, but there are some cozy tents set up for some of the nobles of the southwestern walls. I suggest you make your way there first.”

More camping. Well, at least he wouldn't be doing it alone. And if the tents were set up with nobility in mind the trappings would at least be more comfortable than the bedroll he had carried with him. He offered a gentle thank you to the cleric and marched back out, intent on settling in somewhere before finding more information on what would be expected of him.

It was just as he left the front gates again that he caught sight of something and stopped abruptly.

He blinked several times and scanned the crowd thoroughly, sure he had seen a familiar face. It took several moments but finally he saw her- huddled against a tree in a hooded coat. A small woman, not even five feet, with the same coloring as him and the same nose.

His heart nearly shuddered to a stop. Alyssa looked exactly the same as she had when he saw her last. She was watching the passerby tensely, hands clutching the strap of a bag. Tristan was almost sure it was her, and his pulse pounded in his ears as he drove his legs forward to find out for sure.

He made a beeline through the crowd and was only a few paces away, her name on his breath, when the elf appeared.

He was lithe and wiry, bundled up but still barefoot. He had the facial tattoos common among the Dalish, black hair to his chin, and blue eyes- the left one had a horrid looking scar over it.

Already the elf had a dagger drawn and entered a defensive stance between Tristan and the woman he was sure was his sister. Surprised by the sudden appearance and alarmed by the weapon, he backed up a pace.

“Don't get too excited,” the elf said coolly, “Are you a templar?”

“What?” Tristan said, “No, I-” he looked past the elf. “Alyssa,” He called, “is that you?”

She looked up, and he saw her eyes were the same warm green as his. Her lips parted and he saw her inhale deeply before striding forward and taking the elf by the shoulder.

“Allain,” She hissed, “Open your eyes. He's not after trouble.”

The elf- Allain, apparently- looked him up and down. The caution bled out of his stance and he sheathed his dagger.

“So he isn't,” He said, “Not wearing the clothes or the scowl- he looks rather like you, doesn't he?”

“He's my little brother.”

“It is you,” Tristan breathed. He didn't try to stop himself from sweeping the tiny woman into a tight hug and Alyssa grunted as the air was squeezed out of her. Still, one of her hands reached to pat his back soundly before he had the sense to put her down.

They clasped hands.

“You've gotten even bulkier, Tristan.” Alyssa said, “If that's possible.”

“Where have you been?” Tristan asked, still shocked, “I was afraid you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“It's too busy out here,” Alyssa said, looking around, “Let's find somewhere quiet to talk.”

---===---

They found a small copse of trees with fallen logs not far away, and sat there.

The elf introduced himself properly then. “I'm Allain of Clan Lavellan,” He said, “Thirty-eight years. I've been looking after your sister, as it were.”

Tristan nodded politely at him. “Tristan Trevelyan,” He replied, “You're Dalish? Why aren't you still with your clan?”

Allain adjusted the quiver on his back. “Your sister showed up near our camp half starved and sick to death,” he said, “Round about three and a half years ago. We don't deal with shemlens much, but we've no quarrel with anyone so long as they mean us no harm. She was hurt, tired, ill- so our Keeper let her stay just as long as it took for her to get her strength back.”

Tristan nodded, and Allain went on. “We struck up a friendship, as it were. And I was worried about her running off into the wild alone even once she was well. A mage from a noble family with no hunting or camping experience? I was sure she'd starve or stumble off of a cliff.”

“Hey,” Alyssa said lightly, “I'm not that helpless.”

Allain smiled slightly. “Anyway, with the Keeper's permission I went with her. We stayed on the fringes of small villages mostly, kept to ourselves and avoided trouble. But word of this Conclave was everywhere by last month and Alyssa wanted to see what it was all about.”

“Allain came along,” Alyssa added, “He thinks many people here are just looking for a fight. I don't doubt that, honestly. You could cut the tension here with a knife and serve it like toast.”

Tristan hummed thoughtfully. It was a lot to process that his sister had spent however long recuperating from her wounds with a clan of Dalish elves, and was now traveling with one as if he were family. Still, it was better than her being cut down somewhere. She was alive, and here, and safe. He would count his blessings.

“Thank you, Allain,” He said, “For helping her.”

The next hours passed pleasantly. For some time Tristan and Alyssa chatted, caught up on each other's lives. Allain chimed in wherever he felt like it, easygoing and relaxed now that he knew Alyssa was in no danger.

They parted long enough in the afternoon for Tristan to find his place in the camp with the other nobility. He was able to reserve a tent for himself, and he rendezvoused with Alyssa at the small tavern after. Allain left when he arrived, saying he would get the lay of the land and secure a camping spot somewhere safe for himself and Alyssa.

“You two can catch up some more without me,” He said as he left.

With drinks served and the tavern more relaxed than other spaces in the village, Alyssa hunkered down and leaned in.

“How is Roland? The family?” She asked, “You've talked plenty about what you've been up to, but...”

“They're well,” Tristan said, “Elliot is growing like a weed. Annalise too.”

Alyssa's face was soft. “I miss the little ones,” She said, “Very much.”

“They want you to come home,” Tristan told her, “So does everyone else. You didn't have to leave, you know- we'd have kept you safe.”

“And endangered centuries of bonds with the Chantry and Templars to do it,” Alyssa said easily, “I won't ruin the family like that.”

“If we prioritized our reputation over each other we'd already be ruined,” Tristan said firmly.

“You're not going to drag me back to Ostwick with you however this ends up, are you?” Alyssa asked dryly.

“I just might,” Tristan said. He was only half joking.

Alyssa laughed softly through her nose.

“Do you know exactly where the meetings will be held?” she asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Further in the valley, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Tristan said, “I don't think that will start for a few days, but I thought I would go there tomorrow just to look around. It's quite a landmark, after all.”

“That it is,” Alyssa said, “Perhaps I'll come with you.”

“I'd like if you did,” Was the reply.

Tristan had expected that any reunion with his sister was still far away. He was glad to be proven wrong, and even gladder to keep her as close as he could for as long as possible. Whatever the results of the Conclave, he wouldn't let her go off alone again.

[chipfics]

Confess

crossposted from ao3 Characters: Trevelyan Siblings, Josephine Montilyet, Leliana About: confession fic. Based loosely on the progression of events from the game. Trevilyet.

Summary: After an unexpected lecture from Leliana, Tristan re-examines his intentions with Josephine. 3100 words

Tristan had a lot to think about.

Of course, this was almost always the case. He was a leading force in the middle of a war against a darkspawn magister. There was a lot to do. His sister might have been the inquisitor, but he was still the one with the mark, the one able to close the rifts. He was almost always on the move these days, even between journeys when he was 'resting' at Skyhold.

When Josephine told him Leliana was looking for him, Tristan had assumed it was word on a new task for him, perhaps information for him to pass on to his sister Alyssa. Leliana was a pleasant person, but they were not particularly close and hadn't spoken much outside of work. What else would she need him for?

As such he was taken completely off guard when her first words upon his arrival in the rookery were “What do you think you're playing at with Josephine?”

She wasn't even facing him. Tristan stopped short and fumbled. What?

He furrowed his thick brows and tried to parse what she could mean. Josephine was one of his closest friends, surely, though they had only been well acquainted for a few months. He spent more free time with her than with anyone else, and he was deeply fond of her. Quite smitten, in fact, but he hadn't made any strong approaches aside of a few overt compliments here and there. Had he?

“What do you-” He started clumsily, but Leliana turned abruptly and his mouth snapped shut.

He was much bigger than her. Iron Bull was perhaps one of the only people in the keep who could boast to being more formidable in size than Tristan. But Leliana's cool gaze unsettled him deeply and he didn't doubt she could take him down easily. She was scary, in a lot of ways.

“You're not as subtle as you think you are, Master Herald,” Leliana told him curtly, “I've noticed the flirting.”

Oh dear. So he was more obvious than he realized. Though Leliana probably knew each mouse in the keep by glance alone, so her noticing wasn't altogether too surprising. Had anyone else though...?

He shifted from one foot to the other, nervous.

“What's your game?” Leliana pressed, hands on hips. Suddenly she looked more like a scolding schoolmistress than a spymaster. Tristan fumbled again all the same.

“What? What game,” He said in confusion, “I just like her, that's all.”

“Do you really now?” Leliana shot back. Tristan shrank away.

“Leliana, I'm not stupid enough to lie to you,” He said defensively, “What's wrong with you all of a sudden?”

Leliana crossed her arms. “Listen to me,” She said, “Josephine is a dear friend. One of few. I brought her here to act as a diplomat for us, not to be...toyed with.”

Tristan frowned deeply. Leliana thought he was toying with Josephine? That was much more upsetting than he thought she realized.

“You really think I'd do something like that?” He said, not hiding the hurt in his tone.

Finally, Leliana's gaze softened a little and her stance loosened. She sighed. “I suppose I don't,” She offered, “But even so, I must ask after your intentions.”

“My intentions?”

Leliana nodded. “Josephine is well versed in The Game and all that entails. But in love, she is an innocent. I guarantee you she has not noticed your advances, as much as I have .”

Tristan shifted in place again. “I don't...I don't know if I had any plans to definitely approach her,” He admitted, “I just like being around her. She's kind, and she's fun to talk to. I didn't...I mean, I'd never want to hurt her, Leliana, if that's what you mean. I swear I'd never do that.”

Leliana's eyes softened a little more and she finally relaxed her stance completely. “I believe you,” She said, ���Whatever you decide, see that it stays that way. You may go.”

Tristan nodded, turned, and then turned back.

“For what it's worth,” He said gently, “I'm glad Josephine has a good friend looking out for her- I'm glad you care enough to.”

Leliana made a shooing motion with her hand, but a half smile was on her face as she did so. Tristan offered one in return before he left, contemplative and quiet.

He found his favorite corner of the garden, a little alcove near some planting pots where nobody ever bothered him, and sat.

What were his intentions with Josephine, he wondered? He had been trying not to think about it too much. He liked her immensely, true, but there was so much else to do that it felt silly to be fixating on a crush of all things. His attention was needed a million other places and his strength in just as many. How could he waste time pining after a girl?

Even so, he was coming to the realization that putting it off would only delay an inevitable need to either address or drop it completely. He couldn't hang about in some kind of limbo like this forever. It wasn't fair to himself or to Josephine, even if she hadn't noticed any of his attention as romantic.

But, he decided, dropping it was certainly not an option.

Just thinking about her smile left him feeling warm. He loved her eyes, and her laugh, and how kind and open she was while remaining tactful and clever. He loved that he could lose an hour talking to her about nothing and everything. That all his worries disappeared for a while when she was nearby. He didn't want to give that feeling up.

Which meant of course he had to talk to her. Seriously, and plainly. Not an easy task- Tristan had never approached anyone for whom he had an interest in the past, and this would be a first attempt. How did one go about doing such a thing?

He sighed, and settled on asking for advice. There was one person in Skyhold who would hear him out and talk with him honestly on the subject, for certain.

Alyssa tended to stretch herself thin in her role as Inquisitor. And with more people noticing that she did so, convincing the healers she was assisting in the infirmary to shoo her away for a break and a few drinks at the tavern wasn't difficult.

His sister was five years his senior, and miles more confident in herself than Tristan could ever hope to be. He had trusted her judgment and decisions since Haven so heavily and openly that the others in the order had elected her the leader almost unanimously after they arrived at Skyhold. She was now working hard to live up to their expectations.

For the next hour though, she would just be his big sister. That was what he needed from her right now.

They both had more work to do yet in the day, so they settled for tea when they arrived at the tavern, rather than whiskey. A quiet table in the corner of the second floor and a few minutes of small talk later, Tristan brought his concerns to light.

“Leliana just gave me a lecture,” He admitted awkwardly, “About Josephine.”

Alyssa stopped mid-sip and looked over her cup at him. Her eyes were the same striking green as his, her hair the same orange, her face the same wealth of freckles and fair skin.

“Leliana gave you a talk about Josie?” She asked incredulously, “Do tell.”

Tristan sighed over his own cup. “She's...noticed me flirting a little.” He mumbled.

Alyssa let out a soft ha! And took a long draught of her tea. “If she hadn't, I would worry she wasn't up to the task of spymaster. It's hard not to see you're smitten with the lady ambassador, little brother.”

Tristan frowned. “Am I that obvious?”

“To anyone who knows you, yes.” Alyssa said plainly, “Don't tell him I told you, but Varric and Dorian have joked about starting a pool for when you two actually-”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Tristan begged pitifully, and hung his head in his hands, “Maker, what must she think then?”

Alyssa patted his shoulder. “I don't think she's noticed, so you're safe. She's about the only one, though.”

Tristan groaned.

Alyssa didn't tease him any more and went back to her drink calmly. Tristan took a few moments to scold himself for being careless before he asked his question.

“How did...” he gripped his teacup, “How did you talk to Cullen when you...you know, told him?”

This time Alyssa paused.

Her relationship with Cullen was much gossiped about by now, though they'd made no official announcement. Tristan doubted they would- Cullen liked his privacy and Alyssa wasn't one for grand displays of any sort. But it was still common knowledge that the two had been together at least a month. Tristan was one of few to be properly informed of it by Alyssa herself.

“Are you planning to talk to Josephine?” She asked gently.

Tristan nodded, stiff. Alyssa's face spread into a comforting smile.

“Attaboy,” She said, “I knew you had it in you.”

“Alyssa, my question.” Tristan said, exasperated. Alyssa laughed lightly.

“I was just honest with him,” She admitted freely, “Not that it wasn't scary. It was probably one of the most nerve racking things I've ever done. But it's better to communicate openly if you want a definite answer, you know?”

“Is that really all there is to it?” Tristan asked, “I just tell her?”

“You just tell her,” Alyssa confirmed.

“It can't be that simple,” Tristan frowned.

“You always overthink everything,” Alyssa sighed, “Ever since you were a kid. Not everything has to be a big ordeal, Triss.”

Tristan grumbled into his tea, “Maybe I should have asked Allain how he approached Cassandra,” In reference to their Dalish scout friend.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “Don't whine at me,” She said, “Allain will tell you the same thing. Besides, Cassandra approached him .”

Tristan only huffed.

But in the end he decided Alyssa was right. There was no avoiding it- he had to talk to Josephine. So he finished his cup of tea, bid his sister good day, and marched straight to the Ambassador's office. There were still things on his plate in terms of work, but they would have to wait. He didn't think he could sit still until he got it over with, now that he was thinking about it.

Josephine was blessedly alone when he knocked and entered, scribbling away at some reports. Tristan strode over and stood in front of her desk. Silent and awkward for a few moments, he finally cleared his throat to get her attention. She started and looked up, focus broken.

“Dear me,” She breathed, “I'm so sorry I didn't hear you come in, Tristan.”

“It's fine,” Tristan said, hands fiddling behind his back, “Er...”

“Did you need something?” She asked, placing her pen in its stand and folding her hands.

Just be honest , Alyssa's words rang in his mind. Well, that was something he could do.

“I had a talk with Leliana a bit ago,” He said lamely, “Or more accurately, she had one with me.”

Josephine blinked.

“About, uh, us.”

A look of understanding dawned on Josephine and she sighed deeply, then muttered, “Leliana, honestly...”

Then she stood. “We should take this somewhere more private.”

For lack of much elsewhere to go, they went to Tristan's quarters, where he lit a fire and some lamps and took a seat on the sofa to awkwardly explain to Josephine what Leliana had said to him. He didn't go into much detail, too nervous to bare it all, but Josephine began to pace more and more fervidly as he went on.

“An innocent in love?” She asked incredulously after he was done.

“That's what she said,” He frowned as he watched her continue to pace, huffing and upset.

“Why, that- I am not,” Josephine fumed, and then she stopped, turned to face Tristan.

“I assure you sir, I have not assumed any of your comments were meant in such a way,” She said earnestly.

That made him frown. Leliana and Alyssa had both said Josephine hadn't noticed, and it appeared they were right. And it dawned on him he didn't really like that. I should have flirted harder , he thought with chagrin.

There was only a short pause before he took the plunge. “But what if they were?” He asked.

A pause. Josephine looked caught off guard, and her stance changed to a shy one, hands clenched nervously in front of her.

“...Were they?” She asked quietly.

The way her eyes were on him felt like the edge of something, but he couldn't place what was coming. Only one way to find out . He stood. Josephine was not a short woman, but he dwarfed her easily, having to look down to meet her eyes. Even so, he felt small in her presence.

“They were,” He confirmed just as quietly, but firmly. There was no backing out of this now. He would have to charge forward, like breaking an enemy line.

She opened her mouth, about to speak, then closed it. Her lips pursed and she cleared her throat, obviously unsure what to say. So Tristan spoke instead.

“I like you, Josephine,” He said, “Very much. I like spending time with you and I like seeing you smile. I...er...” he lost steam and fumbled. “I...wouldn't ask for anything you wouldn't want to give, of course, but...”

Oh, he should have rehearsed. This was a terrible idea. He flushed deeply and avoided eye contact.

There was a short pause, but Josephine finally spoke up. “Tristan,” She said, “You've caught me...quite off guard, I must say.”

He finally looked back at her, all nerves. There was a smile on her face.

“I...I hold quite some affection for you myself, I must admit.” She stuttered, “And I do dearly enjoy your company. But I never wanted to presume that- I never wanted to assume...”

It dawned suddenly on Tristan that perhaps Josephine was more like him than he realized. She had noticed the flirting, but had second guessed herself so thoroughly that she managed to convince herself it meant nothing at all.

He had convinced himself that Josephine could never see him that way, and he was so busy thinking she was out of reach that he missed what was really happening between them. He felt foolish. Didn't she always drop whatever she was doing to spend time with him, even work? And he wasn't the only one who lost track of time when they were talking, was he? She always exclaimed that oh, we've been here over an hour already or something to that effect before rushing off to catch up on the work she had left undone. He'd squeeze her hand when they parted, but she'd squeeze his back.

“That's...exactly how I felt,” He blurted, “I thought...surely you'd never...”

Josephine brought her hand to her face, hiding her growing smile. “We've known each other only a few months,” She breathed, “Can you really be sure you...?”

Tristan shook his head and stepped forward, just a little. “There's not a doubt in my mind,” He said, “It's impossible not to see how wonderful you are.”

Josephine took his hand in her free one. “I could say the same of you, sir.” She said warmly, “There is so much more to you than you see in yourself.”

Tristan flushed deeper, if that was possible. “O-oh, is there?” He said nervously. Oh, he hoped his hand wouldn't start to sweat now.

“You're strikingly handsome to start,” Josephine said in amusement, and then more genuinely, “But that is just the least of your qualities. You are a kind, gentlehearted man and you are so selfless and protective of your friends. It's heartwarming, really.”

Tristan sputtered a little, unsure how to react to such frank praise. “I- thank you,” He eventually managed.

He looked down at their hands, and wrapped his around hers. It was small and graceful in his larger and stronger one, but warm.

“Josephine,” He said softly, “I want...I want to be more than just your friend.”

He squeezed her hand. “...If you'll have me.” he finished.

He saw tears shining in her eyes, but she blinked them back with a bright grin on her face. “I would love nothing more than that,” She replied.

His heart pounded in his chest, a thrill racing through his body that forced him to inhale deeply before laughing breathlessly. Alyssa had been right after all- it was as simple as talking to her.

“Wonderful,” He breathed, his face splitting into a crooked smile shared by much of his family.

Josephine looked at him and her hand raised from her mouth to cup his face. “Tristan,” She murmured, “Lean down here.”

Not thinking, Tristan followed the request. He hunched his shoulders and leaned down, assuming she might whisper something or fix his collar- instead he was met with her lips on his.

He'd never been kissed before. It was a soft, warm sensation. Heat blossomed from where their lips met and spread through his whole body, more like an electric shock than a fire. He smelled something floral on her, perfume or shampoo, inhaled deeply. He squeezed her hand and pressed back as hard as he dared. She pulled away to inhale and kissed him again, again, again.

When she finally let him stand back up, he was lightheaded and pleasantly dizzy. He inhaled, exhaled.

And then he muttered, “Whoa,” dumbly staring ahead at nothing in particular.

A giggle erupted from Josephine, probably the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. “My, you are adorable,” She said sincerely.

They would waste another hour simply basking in each other's company before either went back to work. Tristan left with a spring in his step. When he met Allain in the training yard later and was given a questioning look, all he did was smile brightly.

[chipfics]

Faint

crossposted from ao3 Characters: Cullen Rutherford, Alyssa Trevelyan About: post-trespasser married fluff. set in my Trevelyan Siblings AU.

Summary: Alyssa’s collapse is sudden, and it has Cullen worried- but nothing is as wrong as he thinks. 1100 words.

Alyssa's collapse had come suddenly and unexpectedly.

Cullen paced in his study restlessly. The healer had banished him from the master bedroom when he kept hovering during the examination, and now for the past several minutes he had been wearing a rut in the carpet.

It was just as he was considering going to ask if they were done looking at his wife yet that Regan poked his head in.

He was a young man, who had just finished his templar training shortly before the rebellion began several years ago. He was one of several former templars staying with the Rutherfords right now, all slowly weaning off of lyrium as they left the order. He was lanky, tall, with curly brown hair and brown eyes.

“Brought you some tea, mister Cullen,” He said brightly as he came into the room with a tray. A teapot and two cups were set upon it, and a plate of shortbread cookies. “Thought you might need something to calm you down.”

Cullen paused in his pacing and sighed, offering a tense smile. “Thank you, Regan.”

“A mage from the college came by too. I told him I could have him sent for at the inn once we know how missus Alyssa is faring.”

“Yes, thank you,” Cullen said. Alyssa had been writing a curriculum for the College of Enchanters, and it was about the time of month when a few from the college would come by to ask on her progress and offer what help they could before returning. He hoped they wouldn't mind waiting.

He stayed standing as Regan poured the tea. “Has she fallen ill like this before, sir?”

Cullen sighed. “Once, before Corypheus was defeated. She came back sick from the Exalted Plains and didn't tell anyone- not even her brother. It wasn't until she fainted from a fever that anyone could get her to rest.”

He rubbed his temples. “And she tells me not to overwork myself. The cheek.”

Regan offered a wry smile. “My mum's the same way,” He said, “Missus Alyssa's always looking after us in addition to her own work. I Feel bad about this.”

“It's not your fault,” Cullen said kindly, “She likes helping people, it's just how she's wired. Still, she hasn't been overly exerting herself lately so I don't know what could be...”

Before he could even pick up his teacup, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Cullen called.

It was Rice, the healer they had sent for. She was an elven woman who came recommended in her field by Varric, who had been looked after by her the last time he was ill.

“All done lookin' at her,” Rice said with a bright smile. Cullen walked over briskly.

“Is she all right?” He asked tensely.

“Oh, miss Alyssa is just fine,” Rice said, “You'll want the details from her. I have some other patients to see to, but I'll come and look in on her again tomorrow just to be certain.”

“The details-” Rice had already walked off before Cullen could ask. He furrowed his brow and looked back at Regan, who shrugged.

“I'll just drink the tea myself,” He said easily, “You go see to your lady, sir.”

Cullen nodded and marched down the hallway, heading straight to the master bedroom.

Alyssa was not lying in bed when he entered, but was dressed in a shift and night robe rather than her work clothes from before. She was seated with a cup of tea in the seat by the window.

“Hey, honey.” She said with a grin. Her usual smile, lopsided and bright. That boded well, if nothing else. Cullen moved to her and took her hand in his, squeezing it.

“You gave me a fright,” He said gently, “Are you all right?”

“Better than all right,” She said, “Though I suppose given my condition I'll have to take it easy for a few months.”

A pause.

Her condition? Cullen furrowed his brow. A few months ? Hadn't Rice said she was just fine? And Alyssa herself had claimed she was 'better than all right.'

“I'm missing something. Back up,” Cullen said helplessly. A laugh bubbled out of his wife's throat and she squeezed his hand.

“You might want to sit,” She said. Cullen didn't, and only furrowed his brow further.

“Really, Cul.” Alyssa repeated. He sat in the seat across from her.

“What's going on?” He asked, “I thought you said you were all right.”

“I am, you silly man.” Alyssa said, “But, well.”

She put her teacup down. “Cullen, we need to arrange to buy a bassinet.”

It took a few good long moments for the words to sink in. But once they did Cullen's throat went tight and his heart began to race.

“A...a bassinet?” He asked, unsure he'd heard correctly.

“Yes,” Alyssa said, smile widening, “And a nursery too.”

Cullen inhaled, exhaled. “You're expecting ,” He said quietly. Alyssa nodded and squeezed his hand again.

“You're-” He choked, “You're going to have a baby.”

“We're going to have a baby, yes.” Alyssa said, “We did talk about wanting children...are you all right?”

Cullen stood. “I am,” He said, and pulled Alyssa up, “A little shellshocked, I- I know we've talked about it, but we hadn't made any definite plans, and-”

A weak laugh escaped him, “I'm going to be a father.” He whispered. It was awed, reverent. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

“A wonderful father,” Alyssa said, bounced onto her toes and kissed his chin. He took her around the waist and kissed her deeply in response. She smiled into it, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Who do we tell first?” He asked after they parted, “We should write your parents, surely.”

“And your siblings,” Alyssa said, “And if I don't tell Tristan and Josephine right away they'll fuss about it,” she finished, referring to her younger brother and his wife.

“Yes, yes, and- good gracious,” Cullen inhaled to pull back happy tears that threatened to spill, “We'll have so much planning to do.”

A baby, he considered. Their baby.

They had plenty of unused rooms still in their home. He had assumed all would go to guests- mages or former templars who came to stay or study with them. But now one of them would be prepared for their child to sleep in once it was old enough not to lie in a bassinet near their own bed.

A light worry about whether he was ready for this settled on his shoulders, but he reminded himself that he would not be parenting alone. Alyssa always reminded him she was at his side, no matter what he faced. They would do this together.

Months later, when he held his first son in his arms for the first time, Cullen would not be able to hold back from crying.

[chipfics]

The Tide

crossposted from Ao3 Characters: Tristan Trevelyan, Josephine Montilyet About: Proposal fic, set post-trespasser in a Trevelyan Siblings AU.

Summary: A lot of things are changing for Josephine and Tristan. But some things will always stay the same.

The wind whipped Josephine's hair about her face as she stepped onto the beach, and she pulled the ribbon she had stowed in her pocket earlier out to tie it back.

It was wonderful to be in Antiva again, so close to the water and the sound of the waves and gulls. This little stretch of beach was just for her family's use, quiet and clean and beautiful.

Tristan was seated under an awning with a book a few yards away, close to the water but out of reach of the tide. He was holding a book in his lap, turning the pages laboriously with his right hand every so often. She imagined he was having a hard time- he had been left handed, but now his left hand was gone.

Solas had taken the mark away, but there was extensive damage to the bone and muscle of Tristan's left forearm from the anchor's spread by the time it was done. His sister, no longer the Inquisitor and just a mage, was already researching methods for crafting him a prosthetic with Dagna's help. It had been the first thing she had arranged for after she visited Cullen's family and the Trevelyan estate following the Inquisition disbanding. Josephine hoped her studies were going well.

It was a little strange to see Tristan as he was now. Even with an arm missing he was still a formidable man. Well over six feet, broad and strong in build. He was always a quiet, gentle man as well- but his work with the Inquisition had kept him constantly active. Whether swinging a greatsword or helping Cullen put troops through the motions, he was hardly ever still. Usually it was only at night when he wrapped around Josephine to sleep that he stopped moving.

Now he had so much less to do. Such few responsibilities had inspired him to catch up on reading many things he had forgone before. Josephine studied the quiet focus of his face as she approached.

Bright orange hair. He had gotten it trimmed recently, so it was neater than its previously unkempt account. And his eyes were still greener than a garden in spring.

She loved his eyes. They were warm and expressive under his strong brow. Soft when he smiled, steely when he fought, twinkling like jewels when he laughed.

Her family had received Tristan warmly, for which Josephine was grateful. Her father had been rather jovial with him, delighted to meet the man who had recklessly dueled for his daughter's hand. Yvette was all too happy to ask the wildly exaggerated details of that incident. Tristan, incorrigible in his enabling, had confirmed each account with a wide smile and a melodramatic flair, laughing richly when Josephine stepped in to correct him with exasperation. Don't encourage her, she had told him again.

She reached the blanket Tristan was seated on and sat next to him. He looked up quietly and offered a smile, warm and broad.

“Hello, Darling.” Josephine said softly. Tristan bent down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Hello, beautiful.” He returned easily.

He had been shy in the early days of their relationship, and that shyness persisted in some ways even now. But in private, with just the two of them, he was doting and sweet. As soon as Josephine was seated he put his book to the side and tucked her under his right arm to watch the waves with her. Always he gave her his full attention, as if there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

“How are the arrangements for the new ships coming along?” He asked. His voice was a rich baritone and it rumbled out of his chest and into Josephine's.

“Slowly but surely,” Josephine returned. She curled against his side and sighed happily. “Soon the Montilyets will have a full fleet again.”

“That's wonderful to hear,” Tristan said, and kissed the crown of her head soundly, “Your parents are lucky to have such a driven daughter, aren't they?”

“This is in no small part thanks to your assistance,” Josephine reminded, “You stepped in personally after the House of Repose showed themselves. And without your work we may not have gotten the Du Paraquettes raised to lordship.”

“Alyssa helped too,” Tristan deflected, “I just did some leg work, really.”

“And you wrestled an assassin in the middle of my office,” Josephine quipped, “That was magnificent, by the way.”

It had been less wrestling and more manhandling, really. Tristan was much larger than the man who had infiltrated Skyhold and had not so much as flinched when the assassin's knife drove into his side. He had, in fact, grabbed the fellow by the shirt, lifted him bodily and slammed him into the ground full force, knocking the wind out of him. Tristan had afterwards needed four stitches but said simply it was worth keeping you safe.

“Magnificent,” Tristan laughed, “If you say so.”

They fell into an easy silence and watched the water for a few minutes. Josephine lifted her hand to lace her fingers with Tristan's. He laid his head down atop hers and hummed a tavern song quietly.

Their relationship had started before Corypheus was defeated, continued after, and now the Inquisition was gone- but they remained together. Josephine couldn't convey with words how relieved that made her. That even with everything in their lives changing they still held fast to each other. Still wanted each other.

She did not think Tristan the fickle sort of person who would abandon her so easily, of course. In fact his loyalty was hard to question. It flustered her to think too heavily on it, but she knew he was terribly in love with her. Besotted in a way that he may never recover from- she hoped not, anyway. The feeling was heartily returned.

A few more minutes passed before Tristan spoke again, this time a little hesitant and uncertain in tone.

“Josephine?” He said. She looked up at him.

“Yes?”

He looked out to sea. “I've enjoyed meeting your family. They've been wonderfully welcoming and kind. I wondered, though, if...”

He set his eyes on her. “If, when you have time to travel again next, you might come and meet mine.”

He let go of her hand and moved to cup her cheek instead. “You know Alyssa, of course. You're fast friends, and that makes me happy. But you've never met our older brother or his family, or my parents. And I'd like you to.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Say you'll come to Ostwick with me soon?” He asked, soft and sincere.

Something about the tone of the question felt so serious, like a wave about to break on shore. Almost like a proposal, she wanted to think, but that was reaching.

She leaned up onto her knees, wrapped her arms around Tristan's neck and kissed him soundly once, twice, three times. “Of course I will, darling.” she murmured, and kissed him again.

“My family is yours,” She told him, “And I would love for yours to be mine.”

The implication in the statement was heavy. Stay with me forever , it whispered, stay mine.

Tristan moved, stood. Josephine blinked and looked up at him. His gaze had turned sharp, focused.

“If that's the case,” He said to her, “There's something I want to do.”

“Tristan, what-”

Josephine's voice caught in her throat before she could finish the question. Tristan had sunk to one knee and was fishing in his shirt pocket. Oh, he couldn't be- could he? Her pulse thrummed in her ears and a hand went to cover her mouth.

“I bought this months ago,” Tristan said, “And I've been carrying it around ever since. I wanted to plan something, but I just couldn't figure out what to say, how to start.”

“Tristan-” Josephine tried again, but his name was all that would come.

“You've given me all I need now,” He continued, and held his hand out.

There in his palm was a ring. Sized perfectly for her finger, it was a veridium band with two small, glittering emeralds set in it. Simple but pretty, and well made.

“Josephine,” Tristan said, and this time his voice caught. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Josephine, I couldn't possibly imagine my life without waking up every morning to your face. Or without holding your hand in mine.”

His eyes took on a furrow, the one that made her always think of a puppy following her around.

“Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them and Josephine took a shuddering breath in.

“Tristan,” She breathed, pulled herself to her knees, and then she dove forward into him to kiss him impulsively.

“Yes,” She said, and kissed him again. “Yes, a million times yes-”

Tristan laughed with every kiss she pressed upon him, his own eyes filling with tears. “Oh, wonderful,” He managed to choke, pressing their foreheads together as they laughed.

A few moments passed where they traded laughter and kisses, but eventually Josephine pulled away and produced a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe both their faces.

Once that was done she let Tristan put the ring on her finger. Delicately, gently. He was such a bear of a man, but the control he had over his motions was complete.

It fit wonderfully, and she wondered how he had gotten her ring size. Through Leliana, perhaps? Or maybe he had nicked one from her jewelry to compare. It didn't matter. It was perfect.

“I already told your family I was planning to- to do this,” Tristan managed after another few moments, “Alyssa and Cullen actually helped me pick the ring, so they know too.”

“A conspiracy,” Josephine said teasingly, “You all plotted against me? Shameful.”

Tristan's face broke into a crooked grin- oh, she loved that smile of his, so lopsided and genuine. She couldn't stop herself from kissing him again, but the way he held her against him and kissed back told her it was far from unwelcome.

She was surprised Yvette hadn't blurted something out, she mused, but she could press her family about that later. For now, Tristan was all she cared about.

Josephine Trevelyan- it was a strange thought, but a good one. She rather liked the sound of it in her head.

[chipfics]

Rest Easy

crossposted from Ao3 Characters: Alyssa Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford About: Relationship fluff with some spicier implications/mentions. Set in a Trevelyan Siblings AU.

Summary: Alyssa has trouble sleeping- but she’s not the only one. 1700 words.

Sleep came scarcer and scarcer each night lately.

Alyssa's quarters in Skyhold were comfortable, spacious, well warmed by the fireplace. Much different from the drafty little cabin she had shared with her brother in Haven. Now he was in the quarters just below hers in the main tower, hopefully sleeping peacefully with no whispers from nightmares or worries of any kind. And hopefully no pains from the mark on his hand. She knew it still bothered him at times.

Alyssa herself had many little things to keep her mind in ill company now.

The Ostwick Circle had fallen suddenly, before the war between the mages and templars had fully begun. The rebellious there had staged a bloody uprising, and it had left Alyssa with little choice but to flee the place entirely or be singled out as one of the rebels by the templars who would not pause to ask any questions.

She had stayed with a Dalish clan after that, until word of the Conclave reached her and she chose to attend.

She had already developed sleep problems by the time she reunited with her brother there for the first time since leaving Ostwick. Most of the dreams that overtook her were full of the smell of the Circle burning, the noise of the fighting, the ache of her feet as she trekked further north to avoid getting her family caught up in the mess that was the spreading mage rebellion.

She still dreamed of that day even now. And now also of Haven burning, of Tristan facing Corypheus down alone and being lost in the blinding white of an avalanche, thought dead for days before a rear patrol found him exhausted and starved in the snow.

By some strange twist of luck she was now settled within the position of Inquisitor as well. So many people whose lives and faith depended on her. Every word she said could be twisted for good or ill now and the anxiety of the notion kept her awake as much as trying to avoid the nightmares.

And so tonight she found herself curled against the arm of a sofa in front of her fireplace, reading through a copy of Hard in Hightown and drinking tea that had long since cooled.

She knew the crime serial almost by heart now. It had been a favorite of hers for quite some time, and it was still an odd thought to realize she was now close friends with its author. Still, even as familiar as the words and imagery were they provided enough distraction to keep her calm. And failing that, she could always dress herself again and take a brisk walk. There were night patrols and it wouldn't be unsafe as long as she stayed within the fortress walls.

She was in fact beginning to consider doing just that when she heard the knock. A few quick, hard raps that didn't match the knock of the runner that usually interrupted her sleep with urgent business of some sort.

Alyssa paused, at first not sure she had really heard it. Several seconds passed, and she heard it again. Real, then. She marked her place and stood, smoothing out her shift and reaching for her nightrobe. She pulled it on and tied the belt then padded across the floor and to the door. She hesitated only a moment before opening it just a crack. Whoever it was, they needed her for something to be there at nearly two in the morning.

It wasn't a runner standing in the darkness of the hallway like she expected.

It was a man, tall and strong, wavy blonde hair mussed and hanging into his face. A five o' clock shadow was on his chin that she would know anywhere.

“Cullen?” She asked incredulously, and opened the door the rest of the way to get a better look.

His hair wasn't combed back the way she was accustomed to seeing, and it gave him a very different air. Disheveled, almost, but still very attractive.

“I'm sorry,” He said quietly by way of greeting, “I know it's late.”

“I wasn't asleep,” Alyssa informed him, “it's all right. Do you need something? Is anything wrong?”

She reached a hand out to grasp one of his. Bare, knuckles scarred and nails cut short. Now that she looked closer he was wearing his nightclothes without so much as a robe or jacket to keep warm on his walk from his own quarters. Alyssa frowned.

They were in a relationship- she had no qualms about him being here, even if it wasn't something he had ventured to do before. Cullen was shy in some ways, and very proper most of the time.

...Very improper other times, she recalled, but pushed the thought of his desk under her back from her mind. This wasn't the time.

“I,” Cullen hesitated, “It's not...I mean, there's no work you're needed for.”

He brushed his hair back out of his face. It fell back into place. Alyssa had a brief thought that she wanted to run her fingers through it.

“I couldn't sleep,” Cullen finally said, “And I...started walking, and somehow I ended up here.”

Alyssa pulled him forward. He offered no resistance and she tugged him through the doorway and into her quarters, into the warmer air. She closed the door behind them.

“It's frigid tonight,” She reprimanded softly, “You should have at least put on your boots.”

Cullen responded by drawing her into his arms and bending to bury his nose in her hair, made a brighter orange than normal from the light of the fire. There was the sound of him inhaling deeply and letting out a long sigh.

“You smell nice,” Cullen murmured. Alyssa pulled away and bounced onto her toes, kissing his chin.

“I took a bath after returning from the Graves this evening.” She said, “Come sit down, Cullen.”

She led him to the sofa, where they both sat down. Her book sat forgotten already on the coffee table and Cullen fiddled with his hands, stared absently at the fire.

“Bad dreams again?” asked the Inquisitor. Cullen nodded dumbly.

“I...” He looked up, “You said you weren't asleep? After riding all day yesterday?”

Concern shaded his features and Alyssa squeezed his hands with her own. The smile she gave him was weary.

“I have bad dreams of my own,” She said, “About Ostwick, about Haven...Sometimes it's easier to just do without sleep than...”

“I see,” Cullen said. He laced their fingers. “I am sorry.”

“It's all right,” Alyssa said, “I feel better with you here anyway. Seeing your face always heals me.”

The kiss he gave her in response was warm, tender. It fell more on the corner of her mouth the first time, so he leaned in again after. She smiled, pressed back, and once they had parted again she picked up her book.

“You can read with me, if you want,” She offered.

“A bedtime story?” Cullen's voice was tired but tinted with humor, “Aren't I a bit old for that?”

“I guess you don't want me to do the voices then, do you?” Alyssa quipped back easily. Cullen laughed.

“Lie back,” Alyssa said. Cullen listened, propped himself against the arm of the sofa with a throw pillow. Alyssa leaned back against him and opened the book.

“I'll start from the beginning,” She said.

The next half hour passed calmly. Alyssa read just loud enough for Cullen to hear and he let his hands wander a little, pressed kisses to the side of her neck every so often. His body was chilly to lie against at first, but he warmed up to the temperature of the room quickly enough and soon his hands ceased their aimless journey and settled around Alyssa's waist.

When his breathing started to slow, she closed the book. “Sleepy?” She asked.

“Hmm,” Cullen replied, “Your voice has a soothing effect.”

The book found a place on the coffee table again and Alyssa turned over onto her stomach. She left a trail of light pecks along Cullen's jawline and moved her hands to sift through his hair. It was as soft as it looked, she decided. And she was starting to feel the need to close her eyes as well.

“We can stay here,” She said quietly, “Or sleep in the bed.”

“You want me to spend the night?” Cullen asked groggily, “People will talk.”

“I mean, you're already here.” Alyssa replied, “People already talk. And I don't think you get to talk to me about what's scandalous after taking me against your desk.”

Cullen's eyes snapped open and his face flushed. “That was-” He sputtered, “Listen, you seemed to enjoy it quite well, so-”

Laughter bubbled out of her and Alyssa kissed him silent. “I was teasing you, love.”

Cullen sighed. “The bed,” He said after another moment, then added, “So I can get you out of those clothes later if I have a mind to.”

“Going to work on memorizing all my freckles, I suppose.” Alyssa kissed his nose and stood, happily considering the prospect of Cullen's hands all over her again. Rough, strong, warm hands.

For now though, it could wait. She shed her robe and nestled against Cullen snugly in her bed, hummed old lullabies as he curled his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Soft songs from her childhood, which had the commander snoring softly in only minutes. Alyssa was not far behind him.

The nightmares were not so bad that night. Fewer, less violent. She drifted in and out but after each waking she felt Cullen next to her, resituated closer to him if necessary, and found rest again in moments.

At one point just after dawn she awoke to find him half leaning over her, eyes boring into her face. The fire had died down and the light from the tall windows cast a pale gray about the room. It framed Cullen in a cool, wintry sort of glow. Alyssa smiled blearily at him.

“We'll have to get up soon,” She murmured sleepily.

“We can sleep in an hour,” Cullen replied just as soft. “But I haven't rested so well in years, I'll have you know.”

“Me either,” Alyssa said.

“Perhaps I should stay up here more often?” Cullen bent to kiss her. She lifted a hand to card through his hair, hummed.

“Just stay every night,” She murmured against his lips. He hummed wordlessly in response and kissed her neck.

The day would have to start eventually, but they had time to sleep or fool around a little as they pleased. And Alyssa felt rested in a way she hadn't felt for months now.

[chipfics]

Breaking Down

crossposted from ao3 Characters: Alyssa Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford. About: Pre-relationship hurt/comfort. Set in a Trevelyan Siblings AU.

Summary: Cullen hasn’t seen Alyssa cry since Haven, and it worries him. 1500 words.

Haven was two days behind them now.

The survivors trudged through the mountains, carting along injured who couldn't walk, using supplies as sparingly as they could. They had gotten away with a lot all things considered- but there was no telling how long it would be before they could find a place to resupply.

Cullen was worried.

For all they knew, Tristan Trevelyan was dead. Their Herald. Tristan was a bear of a man- tall, strong, swung his greatsword like it was made of paper. He was formidable and brave and loyal, a good man. A friend.

But he was mostly concerned about Tristan's sister.

Alyssa was small and spindly, not at all in build like her brother but sharing his freckles, green eyes and messy orange hair. She was a mage, distrusted by the people at first but now relied on because Tristan had trusted her so wholly, deferring always to her judgment.

She hadn't cried. Hadn't spoken about it.

Blackwall had to physically drag her away from Tristan, he had been told. She had screamed and fought him at first, but given up on trying to go back to him by the time they met up with Cullen in the pass to tell him the trebuchets had succeeded and Haven was buried...and that Tristan had stayed behind to stall the archdemon and Corypheus.

From what he knew now, the Trevelyan siblings had not seen each other since the fall of the Ostwick Circle. Tristan had rescued his sister from Templars and gotten her out of the city. She had spent the next several years with the Dalish Lavellan clan, whose lead hunter was now one of the Inquisition's scouts. She had only sent occasional short messages home to her family to let them know she was alive, and had reunited with Tristan at the Conclave. She was thirty now, and he was- had been- twenty-five.

They had a much older brother too- Roland, Cullen recalled. He was still in Ostwick with their parents.

Still, Alyssa's lack of reaction to anything concerned him. She was throwing herself into directing the actions of the survivors. When the rest of them fell to bickering she cut in with objective reasoning and got them moving forward again. She was very good at it- a natural leader, really. And it wasn't bad that she was working to help, not at all.

But Cullen thought of her as a friend, now. She was sometimes wary of people, but had opened up more and more over the recent months. Her spirit was gentle and her heart had room in it for everyone she met. She hated to see people suffering and did a lot of work in the infirmary putting her healing magic to good use. She was still doing so now.

It was dark. Middle of the night. They were sending occasional rear patrols- just in case, Leliana said. Just on the off chance any stragglers were trying to catch up, or in case they had been followed. Cullen would be going out in the next one, but that was not until the next evening.

He found Alyssa behind the infirmary tent, shivering in her cloak. No, no- as he got closer he knew better. She was sobbing. He could hear her, see her shoulders shuddering as she wept into her hands.

A little bit of his heart splintered. She always put up such a strong countenance. Even her smiles were carefully guarded, and she was rarely very emotional, though often lighthearted or glib in her banter with others.

He had never seen her break down, and that she was doing so alone now, in the middle of the night- it bothered him.

Cullen wasn't good at comforting, wasn't good at knowing how to deal with emotional people. But Alyssa deserved better than to spend her tears and her grief all alone. He approached.

“Lady Trevelyan,” He said quietly, just loud enough for her to choke back a sob and look up abruptly.

She wiped her face, immediately trying to look presentable and put together. He frowned.

“Cullen,” She said, voice still watery, “Oh, I'm so sorry you found me like this. What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Cullen returned, and he stopped just in front of her. He unwound the scarf he was wearing and put it around her neck instead. “I just wanted to see how you were holding up. I got my answer.”

“I didn't want to break down in front of my patients,” Alyssa admitted quietly, “Or anyone else. Everyone is suffering enough without me making a scene.”

Cullen frowned more deeply. “You have more right than anyone to be grieving,” He said. His voice felt gentle, not like the harsh weather they were experiencing. “You've nothing to be ashamed of.”

She took a shuddering breath in and then tears streamed down her face again. “Cullen, I-”

She reached a hand up, chapped from the cold and covered in freckles like every other part of her. She gripped the front of his cloak.

“He was my baby brother,” She whispered pitifully, “I'm supposed to protect him. Not the other way around. He's not supposed to die for me. He's not supposed to-”

A series of sudden, quiet sobs broke out of her and Cullen felt a pain in his chest.

Alyssa had a strong, fearless spirit. She threw herself forward no matter what the obstacle and really, the Inquisition might have fallen apart without her working so hard to propel it forward with her.

It was wrong that she had felt like she couldn't be seen grieving. Like it would cause a scene. Everyone was crying now. Everyone was struggling. She should be allowed the same luxury, shouldn't she?

He wondered where Allain was- the Dalish hunter who had befriended her and escorted her to the Conclave. Still working with the scouts, probably. Still, Alyssa would normally open up to him more, wouldn't she? Could she not even cry in front of someone she had known for years?

There was a long moment where Cullen couldn't move, heart aching for his friend, but then he realized there was something he could do, even if it would feel...strange. Awkward.

He drew Alyssa into his arms. Gentle at first. But when she curled into him easily, fully, clung to his shirt and wailed, he squeezed. Held her tightly. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if one of his own siblings lost their life trying to protect him.

For several minutes he stood and held her. She was so small and fragile feeling in his arms. Sometimes he forgot just how tiny Alyssa was. The confidence she carried herself with meant that her presence was much bigger than her physical body. Her wild and strong magic also made her a force to be dealt with in a fight. But really, she was hardly over five feet and didn't eat enough. Thin, spindly, small. And there was no telling how much smaller she felt right now.

Eventually she tired herself out and the gasps came slower and her breathing steadied a little. Cullen had begun rubbing the small of her back at some point without really thinking about it. She had felt frigid when he first hugged her but was feverish now from the crying.

She tugged herself away from him but kept her hands fisted in his shirt. He moved his hands to her shoulders.

“I'm so sorry for all that,” She said quietly, “...but I think I needed it. Thank you.”

“You aren't alone, Alyssa.” Cullen said without thinking. But he meant it.

Alyssa wiped a few leftover tears from her face. The smile she gave him was weak, shaky, but deeply grateful. “You're a very sweet man, you know.” She remarked with a crack in her voice.

The compliment caught him off guard. She teased him sometimes, even flirted a bit. It was a terror to deal with, but this wasn't teasing or flirting. It was from the heart, her eyes soft despite the redness around the lids. Cullen found himself grateful the cold had already flushed his face before.

“I- hm. Thank you,” He managed, and coughed. He had to tear his hands away from her shoulders.

He told himself, not for the first time, that this wasn't the time. Never the time, never the place. The teasing and flirting was just her way of bantering with people, he would tell himself, ignoring entirely that she never offered comments along those lines to anyone but him.

His arms missed having her in them, he realized quite suddenly. Oh, that was very bad. He inhaled deeply then exhaled.

“Are you going to be all right?” He finally asked.

“For now,” Alyssa said with a wan smile, “I think I got most of it out. I'll...I'll go and try to sleep for a while.”

Cullen nodded, and they parted. With some guilt, he tried to push away the thought of how small and soft she was when he was holding her, and how nice that had been.

He prayed. Silently, desperately, that Tristan had by some miracle survived. For Alyssa's sake, if no one else's.

[chipfics]

Retrospect

crossposted from ao3

Characters: Trevelyan siblings(Tristan and Alyssa), Josephine Montilyet

About: Pre-relationship and headcanon based fluff. Set in a Trevelyan Siblings AU.

Summary: Tristan Trevelyan has met Josephine Montilyet before. Once, a long time ago. She probably doesn’t remember. 3200 words.

Tristan Trevelyan had been only fourteen when he first met Josephine Montilyet.

He was always awkward and shy in his youth. He stuttered, fumbled his words, slouched and tried to make himself smaller. It was as hard thing to do considering his lanky height. He was all angles and bony joints at the time, stuffed into formal wear he was already outgrowing and carted off with his sister to a party at his great aunt's.

It wasn't the first time, and it wasn't the last. His family always insisted on making the most of each time Alyssa was home visiting from the Circle. Tristan always tried to say that the circle wasn't even in another city, it wasn't hard for them to go see her- Alyssa would back him up, always aware of her little brother's nerves. It never worked of course, and so they would trail in behind their parents and older brother Roland. Roland was ten years ahead of Alyssa, and she was five ahead of Tristan. Still, despite being the baby he was much taller than her already and nearly as tall as the broad shouldered Roland, who teased that he would keep growing and dwarf even him one day. Tristan wasn't sure he liked the idea.

It was a rainy night, and a bigger party than Tristan had attended in the past. Usually at these larger gatherings his parents would force him into initial pleasantries but let him hole up in the library alone after, reading and avoiding eye contact with servants. Alyssa would usually join him for a spell.

But their parents were growing tired of Tristan being timid. He needed to learn to speak to people, they said, and he would be forbidden from the library tonight. His hands sweated as they were announced. Alyssa prodded between his shoulders, a reminder to stand straight. He inhaled, exhaled, and stood at his full height.

There were so many foreigners in the room. Orlesians, Antivans, Fereldens. The Orlesian nobles all wore masks. Tristan had learned about them in his tutoring, but he couldn't for the life of him remember their purpose right now. Every thought had fled from his mind save from the desire to flee and hide until the festivities were over.

There was a table with refreshments in one corner. Alyssa steered them through the crowd skillfully. She was petite, but her confidence dwarfed her in size and let her command a room in ways Tristan knew he never could. She leveled out easy, cordial apologies and greeting as she pulled her little brother along, completely unbothered by any reaction, negative or otherwise. Eventually they had arrived at the punch bowl and she served them.

“How do you d-do that,” Tristan whispered despondently. His voice cracked twice.

“I don't really think about it,” Alyssa admitted, “That's your problem, Triss, you overthink everything and end up missing your opportunities.”

Tristan took the cup from her and sipped sullenly. She was right, of course. His anxiety was so overwhelming that he never got around to leaping- just looking.

“I want to go to the library,” He whined pitifully after a few minutes of watching people socialize. Alyssa laughed at him.

“Mum and Dad will have your hide if you duck out right away.” She said, “Come on, let's find a seat and watch people dance. That's quieter than being in here, at least.”

The ballroom had seats lined around the upper balconies so people could observe dancers and rest between sets. Tristan sipped at his punch and avoided eye contact with everyone who walked by.

He heard whispers from one or two people and saw glances. It was no surprise- their great aunt was hosting the party, and the Trevelyan family's green eyes, orange hair and wealth of freckles were hard to miss. Tristan was hard to miss too, tall as he was.

He stewed in his thoughts and focused on the music for a while. Maybe he could just stare at the floor for a few sets and then sneak out to the library. The last time he had been here he had found an entire set of volumes on the history of fencing technique in Ostwick. He was eager to read more of it, really, and he had much more interest in improving his swordplay than avoiding the eyes and smiles of girls whose names he did not even know.

Suddenly, Alyssa elbowed him. He looked up with a jolt, nearly spilling what little was left of his drink. There was a young man about his sister's age smiling politely at him.

“I'm going to go dance a bit,”Alyssa said to him, “Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?”

No, Tristan's mind screamed, absolutely not. Don't leave me here.

Instead, he croaked out a hesitant “Yes.”

Alyssa left, and suddenly the noise went from pleasant music to an overwhelming cacophony of strings, woodwinds, tittering women and chuckling men. So many people, so many eyes, and he could swear they were all focused on him. The rational part of his mind reminded him that was impossible, but it was quashed by his anxiety just like always.

Find something to focus on, his sister's voice rang through his head. She worked so hard to help him cope. She always reminded him that distraction was effective and reasonable for these things. If he could just move his mind to another track...

He tore his eyes from the floor and scanned the room. He focused on the masks of the Orlesian guests, tried to guess their material. He watched the movements of the cellist in the band for a few moments, then began counting ridiculous hairstyles. One, two, three. Four was especially extravagant. Five. Six.

Near seven, his eyes flicked over someone, and then back.

A girl, two or three years older than him. She was...very pretty. Her skin was much darker than his, as was her hair, done up tastefully and not nearly in so silly a way as the woman she was speaking with. It was her smile that caught him, though. Genuine, pleasant, like she was really enjoying herself. He wished he could be that carefree.

He finished his drink, and his eyes went back to the girl once or twice before he noticed that he had fixated on her. He glued his eyes back to the floor then, embarrassed that he had let himself do that. Staring in such a way was hardly polite, especially when the young lady didn't even know he was watching.

He looked at his feet. His trousers were almost too small already, his boots a little tight. His mother would have him fitted for new formal wear after tonight, no doubt. He was growing like a weed again, destined to be a tree of a fellow like his father.

Alyssa was off dancing. Having fun. Laughing, probably. He envied his sister. Though she spoke of stress and fear living in the Circle under the thumb of the Templars, she always held her head high, never belittled herself. She kept careful track of her limits, but she still pushed herself to be better. He thought of all his dancing lessons back home, how he never had the chance to put them to use because he was so afraid of being shot down that he never asked anyone to dance to begin with.

He understood why his parents were concerned. He really did. He was a third child, destined probably for Chantry work rather than a large inheritance- but if he were to grow up well he would still need to come out of his shell. They were only concerned for his well being, even if their pushing only succeeded in adding to his stress. He didn't want to disappoint them...but people were just so frightening sometimes.

A new set of dances was beginning. Tristan looked up and found that the girl he was watching before was sitting across the way, hands folded in her lap. The smile was gone from her face and she looked more pensive now. He wondered if something had happened- or if she was just like him and lost herself in her thoughts the moment she was alone.

Alyssa strolled up and took her seat again, offering him a smile that was apologetic. He nodded at her, lips pursed.

The question was out of his mouth before he even realized he was pointing. “Who is that, do you know?”

Alyssa looked across at the girl. “Josephine Montilyet,” She said helpfully, “She's from...Orlais? No, just going to school there I think. She's been here once or twice before...oh, has she caught your attention?”

Her smile was teasing as she nudged him in the side. Tristan turned red to his ears.

“Not so much,” He grumbled sullenly, “Don't look at me like that.”

Alyssa laughed pleasantly. It was far from derisive or mocking- she would never be so mean spirited as that. Tristan still shrunk into himself a little.

But Alyssa squeezed his shoulder then. “Hey, look,” She said, “It's good that you're actually noticing people. You should ask her to dance.”

He felt himself go even redder. “I couldn't,” He said staunchly, but Alyssa stood and pulled on his arm.

“I mean it,” She said, “She's not too much older than you, and she's very nice from what I hear. You'll make friend. It will be good. Come on.”

Tristan found himself standing, though he couldn't fathom why. “She'll turn me down,” He said stupidly.

“No she won't. You're adorable and you're polite.” Alyssa said, “Go on. If it looks like you're floundering I'll rescue you, I promise.”

She pushed him, but it took leaning her whole weight into him. She was just over five feet and a bit spindly. Tristan hadn't started to fill out yet, but he was still much bigger than her.

His throat went dry, but somehow he propelled himself forward, around the balconies and over to where Josephine was sitting.

She was much prettier up close, and he realized he had no idea what to say. He inhaled deeply.

It was just an invitation to dance. He didn't need to be flowery. It couldn't be too hard, right? And Alyssa wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he didn't at least try.

“M-miss Montilyet?” He ended up squeaking. His voice cracked and he physically winced.

But Josephine looked up and offered a polite smile. “Oh, please forgive me,” She said, “I didn't see you come up.”

Her accent was noteworthy. Tristan swallowed.

“It's all right,” He said nervously, “Er, I...”

He shuffled. Just say it, he screamed in his head, “I wondered if I could have the next dance?”

It fumbled out of his mouth so fast it was almost a single word, and Josephine looked puzzled for a moment while she tried to parse it. Tristan clenched his hands at his sides.

“Oh,” She said as she understood, “a dance. Yes, if you like.”

Oh, that was almost worse than being turned down. He could feel his palms sweating, and he knew they would be clammy when he held her hand. How awful. But there was no running away now. He had to go through with it.

The dance floor was so bright compared to the observation area. Less crowded with the neatly placed couples, though, and that helped. He had space to breathe.

The song that began was one he recognized, to his relief. For a foxtrot, also something he knew. His parents insisted on extensive dance lessons and for the first time, Tristan was glad for the experience.

Josephine was taller than Alyssa, but still smaller than him. She came up to his nose, and he avoided eye contact, staring past her as he took her hand in one of his and placed his other on her waist. His heart raced a mile a minute and he was sure he'd feel like he'd run a marathon once this was over.

Despite his lanky, angular build, Tristan was light on his feet. Though lost when it came to socializing he was very at home in his own body and always sure of his movements. It was one of the few things he was consistently praised for. The steps came naturally. It was no different than learning fencing stances, really. Formulaic, with a little improvising depending on the environment. He was surprised to find that his heart rate stabilized almost the moment they began to move. The familiarity of steps he had memorized so thoroughly brought on a soothing effect, and his breaths evened out.

If it had been the Viennese waltz he was sure he would have tripped over himself. That one he was still practicing. He blinked as he heard a noise and realized Josephine was trying to speak to him.

“I beg your pardon?” He squeaked nervously, and Josephine gave him a small smile.

“I asked where you learned to dance,” She said as they continued, “You are surprisingly light on your feet.”

“O-oh,” He fumbled, “Just...at home. My parents hired an instructor.”

“Where are you from?”

He swallowed thickly. “Ostwick,” He said simply, “Y-you are...living in Orlais?”

“For finishing school,” Josephine provided, “I am from Antiva, though.”

“Antiva.” Tristan committed it to memory. He would ask his tutor about the region.

Though the words that came to him were few as they exchanged pleasantries, the movement felt natural. Right, in a way it didn't when he was practicing at home. He found himself wondering why it had taken him so long to get onto the dance floor at one of these parties. If this is what it was like, then it really wasn't so terrible.

The music wound down to the end of the song, and Tristan stumbled just slightly at the end for not quite realizing it was over. He fumbled a muttered apology as he came to a final halt and bowed.

Quite suddenly, all his anxiety came flooding back. What was he thinking? People were watching. Eyes were on him. His pulse zipped along again and he swallowed. His face was reddening.

“Th-thank you, madam,” He stuttered clumsily, “If you'll excuse me!”

His voice cracked as he fled, long legs carrying him away and back into the vestibule with his pulse pounding in his ears.

He'd just danced. With a girl. At a party full of foreign nobles. He might just faint.

It was not long after that Alyssa found him and spirited him away to the library when she saw he was coming apart at the seams. She was proud of him, she said, and had chatted with him over books and more punch for the rest of the party. Their parents were a bit miffed that he had ended up sequestering himself again, but also pleased that he had made an effort at the beginning.

It was only as they were climbing into the coach to leave that he realized he had never given Josephine his name.

~~~===~~~

That had been a long eleven years ago. Before the Blight had even struck.

Tristan was a man now, just past twenty-five. He stood six foot three inches tall, broad shouldered and filled out with thick muscle. Good posture, no stutter, a pleasant and sincere air about him that made him more popular than he was aware.

He was sure, he kept telling himself, that Josephine did not remember that night. It was so long ago, and probably very insignificant to her. He was a different person now- a symbol, even, as the Herald.

He felt relief whenever he remembered that Alyssa had been given the position of Inquisitor. Though he held the mark, he had deferred to her decisions and judgment from the very beginning, and people took notice of that. Because the Herald trusted her, they trusted her. She took to the position of leadership well too, with his full support. Weight was on Tristan, but he shared it with a sister he could rely on.

Josephine had grown up beautifully. She was self assured, genuine, graceful. Tristan's boyhood crush had come back screaming in only weeks and he was ashamed that it was continuing to grow with every day. He was fighting a war and it was not the time for silly infatuations.

He reminded himself weakly of that as he finished a briefing on arriving diplomats with Josephine one morning, trying not to stare at the way her mouth moved when she spoke. He had listened just enough to get the basics, but was otherwise distracted from her by...well, her.

He was turning to leave when something she said stopped him, though.

“You know, I realized something.”

He turned around, arms folded behind his back where he could fiddle with his thumbs to alleviate his need to fidget. “And what is that?” He asked, curious.

“That we have met before.” Josephine rested her chin on folded hands at her desk. Tristan felt his pulse pitter awkwardly for several beats. Words fled him and he only managed to nod.

“At a ball, over ten years ago.” Josephine explained, “There was a boy a little younger than me. He was so nervous when he asked me to dance, it looked like he might faint. But once we were on the floor he was very fluid. The way he moved and the way he spoke were complete opposites. I was quite impressed.”

“You were impressed?” Tristan asked. His voice didn't crack. It never did anymore, mellowed out into an even baritone.

Josephine smiled at him. “I was. But you see, I never got his name. He ran off as soon as it was over and I couldn't find him again- and I did look.”

Tristan shifted his weight. “Yes, I...well, I did say I was less than sterling company as a boy, didn't I?”

“You've grown so much I didn't realize it was you until after you brought the mages back from Redcliffe.” Josephine admitted, “I felt so silly when I made the connection.”

“No,” Tristan objected, “Please don't, I...I've changed so much that even Alyssa didn't recognize me for a moment when we met again at the Conclave. She hadn't seen me since the start of the rebellion. I was already twenty by the time I started really growing into myself.”

Josephine's gaze went up and down him then, and something about the way her gaze changed made him exceedingly self conscious. He felt a light flush creep into his cheeks.

“I'm quite pleased to know the man you've become, Tristan.” Josephine said after a moment, “For what it is worth.”

He felt his shoulders relax, and a smile spread on his features, gentle and warm. “I'm honored to hear that, Josephine. It's been a pleasure to know you better as well.”

Josephine's face melted into light surprise for a moment, and then she turned her eyes away from him, clearing her throat, suddenly shy. “Yes, well. I do believe that is all for the briefing. I won't keep you any longer.”

She shuffled some papers on her desk, but Tristan got the impression she was just trying to look busy.

Sometimes, at times like this, he was sure she was catching on to him. Or perhaps she held some affection for him as well. Perhaps both.

Regardless, he didn't think he was ready to tell her just yet.

“Until later, then.” He said, and turned to go. Harritt wanted him for some notes about the new sword he wanted forged, and it wouldn't do to keep him waiting too long.

Still, there was a warmth in him for the rest of the day.