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[denvntr-blog]

Writer’s Block : Varric and Cassandra

A/N : Another fic for the weary hearts. Or for all of you guys. (slight Trevelyan x Cullen pairing)

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"YOU want me to do what?"

"Try it out, Seeker. It might land you a couple of friends here and there. Or, maybe not."

Varric stood before a disgruntled Cassandra. Wearing a sour expression, she closed the book that she held out of anger. It was the book that Varric had given to her a few days back, giving the sneak peek to his worst romance serial as a peace offering from their previous feud with one another. She then became not so much of a bother later on, spending every spare time the hour to read the new chapters of the released book. It amused and satisfied him when he basically observed Cassandra devouring the the book, page after page of endless words and sentences that deemed quite useless to him now, yet meant everything to Cassandra.

Cassandra stood up from the stool she sat on, walking towards Varric in a menacing manner.

"Varric, I appreciate you writing down the sequel for me, as per request from the Inquisitor, but to do such--" Cassandra waved her hands about, obviously baffled. "Such inappropriate actions! What kind of woman do you take me for?"

"Look, I know it sounds weird. Heck, even I'm weirded out, but I'm doing us a favor here."

Cassandra's eyebrow rose in confusion. "The both of us?"

Varric nodded. "The both of us."

Cassandra pauses for a moment, her thinking-process expression showing. After a few contemplations, she said, "You are... quite positive of this? That it will possibly remove you from your writer's block?"

"Have I ever lied to you, Seeker?"

Cassandra glared daggers at him. "As a matter of fact,--"

"Forget that thought. But yes, to answer your question, I am positive that it will work out."

She hesitates. After another few seconds of deep contemplation, she gave out a frustrated sigh.

"Tell me everything I need to do before I disagree and cut you down."

"Will do, Seeker."

-----

She moves the other pieces, her face scrunched in disgust as the last one lands into one of Orlais' landmarks.

"Ugh, Orlesians."

Cullen snickers, crossing off a task written on his papers. "I find it endearing that you're slowly getting sick of their affairs, Trevel-- Inquisitor." The small error immediately earned Cullen smug looks from Leliana and Josephine, to which Trevelyan either ignored or did not notice.

"As if that had to be pointed out." She pinpoints the several pieces scattered around Orlais. "Parties, political unrest, a new duchess getting throned or de-throned, written contracts, what more does Orlais have to offer for us to do?"

"Parties with political unrest, with a duchess getting throned or de-throned, accompanied with written contracts. Bonus points for assassins."

"Ah, of course. Remember the Winter Palace?"

"Don't remind me. The headache I've gained during our time there was incomparable to the headache I've been receiving for weeks."

"It's that bad?"

"Very."

Trevelyan places her hand on her chin, deep in thought. She moves one of the other pieces again, but as she places it on top of a landmark located in Ferelden, the door opens. The sudden interruption caused Trevelyan to squeak out a yelp, immediately letting go of the piece she held. The piece rolled until it, unfortunately, landed onto another Orlais landmark. Josephine sighed, mumbling about her encounter with the Orlesians in said landmark. She muttered something under her breath about six packs of cheese wheels with assassins wearing scandalous and preposterous attires, as chosen poorly by their leader. Vivienne and Dorian cringed at the sight, as they proceeded to go to the nearest clothing store to breathe clean air once more.

"Inquisitor." The heavy-accented voice boomed within the War Room, which silenced all three advisors, including Trevelyan. The advisors, whose directions were facing towards the door, looked at the Nevarran with shock. Trevelyan, however, was faced towards the advisors, with the table in between them. The way she called out to her just now was electrifying in a way Trevelyan couldn't explain. She could only rack inside her head if she had done anything to provoke Cassandra for her to storm all the way down here to the war room.

"Ye-Yes, Cassandra...?" Trevelyan slowly turned around, scared that she might have done something wrong. Again. When was the last time the Inquisitor hadn't done something wrong?

There were the pots. The training dummies, and the horses getting loose. Most of it was Cole's ideas, and I wanted to help him help people. In a way.

As Trevelyan's eyes landed on Cassandra's, the first thing she noticed was the lace sitting on top of her head. And then the frilly dress she wore. It was outrageously covered in pink. Trevelyan could have sworn that Cullen cringed, backing one foot away from the war table. Josephine stood, frozen, not believing her eyes. Leliana, however, stared at Cassandra with delightful amusement, but her interest piqued to almost a maximum when she spotted the shoes that Cassandra wore.

"Are those shoes made from Orlais? Val Chevin?" Leliana commented, moving towards Cassandra with a frightful speed, her gaze still not breaking away from the pair of shoes. Cassandra stood her ground, but it was evident from the look on her face that she was positively horrified at Leliana's sudden curiosity.

"I, um, yes. It is."

"Is this... the same pair of shoes that were delivered here to the Inquisition's storages, as request from an anonymous sender?" Josephine added.

Cassandra shamefully nodded, which would mean that she was the anonymous sender.

"Inquisitor, would you care for a poem?" Cassandra said, her teeth grinding. Trevelyan could tell that she didn't want to do this, but it only deepened her confusion she was doing this. On her own accord. Trevelyan looks at her advisors, who gave her a concerning and sympathetic look.

"Um. Sure?"

"

Herald of Andraste

You are the nicest compadre

My heart swoons over your heroic deeds

How shall you fare, when I tell you of my sinful seeds?

(Cullen : What?)

(Leliana : *tries not to snort, but a small smile escapes* Shush. Let her speak.) (Josephine : I certainly do not know what is going on.)

Might you fancy a cup of tea with me,

Or will a bloody, sweaty, and heart-racing battle satisfy thee?

You may not look that nice on a nutcracker wannabe vest,

But you'd look great and ravishing, on Cullen's sturdy desk.

(Cullen : *suddenly choking on air, grasping and reaching for the war table's edges. The pieces that Trevelyan worked so hard on to place have now been ruined and rolled over to either side of the map.*)

You use your hand to close these rifts,

But would you like for a spin, on a summer's day feast?

(Trevelyan : Yes.)

Orlesians give us much of a headache,

But you'd be fine with the pain anyway

Not when our commander perfectly handles the situation at bay.

(Cullen : Andraste be my guide, preserve my soul.)

Now, I must conclude this short-lengthed poem

(Cullen : *heaves out a sigh of relief* Thank the Maker.)

(Leliana and Josephine : *lets out a huff of slight disappointment*)

With you managing the troops, the council, and the nation, your time will not be stolen

Adieu, Inquisitor

May you strive for a more higher position.

"

Cassandra did a graceful yet forced bow, her head dipping really low onto the ground. Trevelyan noticed Cassandra's ears going red from sheer embarrassment, and felt her regret just from standing a few feet away. The last time Trevelyan ever did anything horrendous or as embarrassing was when she tried to do the "Orlesian Dip" with Cullen. It did not go well for them, resulting to Cullen having to lock himself away inside his office, just because he was that ashamed of himself.

With the swift movement of a Seeker, she bolted right out of the room in a blaze, her shoes producing a loud clack, clack, clack upon the floor. After her figure has gone out of sight, a messenger appears right out of the blue, scaring Cullen.

"Ser, sister Leliana's report--"

"Yes, I'm aware of that." Culen snatches the report away fro the scout, giving him a frustrated look. The scout places his fist against his armored chest, and walks away.

"Maker, I swear that messenger has been stalking my movements for how long."

Leliana chuckles.

"Especially right outside your office?"

"What--" Cullen stops, suddenly remembering his momentary talk with Trevelyan during that time, which the scout had rudely disrupted. He blushes, his hand now placed on the side of his neck in a sheepish manner.

"I--You--Thatiscompletelynotinyourlineofwork, Leliana."

"Oh, but it is. I know everything. Mostly everything."

"Even the--" Cullen stammered for a bit, when went near Leliana. "Even the thing we did...?"

"The "Orlesian Dip"? Yes." Leliana smirks at Cullen. "It'll be alright, Cullen. If it brings you some small reassurance, both of you lacked the skills to perform such a feat--"

"Okay. I've heard enough." Cullen stated, his face now flushing, as he slowly makes his way to exit out of the war room. Trevelyan looked at Leliana with much more horror, stepping back for only a few inches.

"I still have no idea what just happened." Josephine stated.

--------

"I will kill you, Varric." Cassandra said, as amshe finally wore into her other pair of boots, tightening the grip around the legs to prevent from becoming anymore loose.

Varric sat upon a wooden chair, his eyes focused onto the paper he held, scribbling away the words that kept popping inside his head. Ever since Cassandra started her 'performance', Varric had already occupied  and written three papers. He was on his sisxteenth page now.

He chuckled, still writing down his thoughts. "You did a pretty solid role, Seeker. I swear I could have applauded for you once you were finished right after, but then they'd spot me and it'd ruin my writing-process."

Cassandra opened her mouth to fight back, but closed it. She sighed heavily, dumping the frilly, pink dress somewhere nearby.

"You are certain that the trilogy will be released very soon?"

Varric smirked.

"I'll let you cut my head off if this doesn't come out in stores in a matter of weeks, Cassandra."

[denvntr-blog]

Flirting

AU : Everyone's flirting with the Inquisitor for funsies. Cole decides to join in, and Inquisitor Lavellan is astounded by his remarks. A/N : Cole is precious. Cole is mah boi. Our boi. Our precious, loving boi. Protect him. ----------------- "You have lovely eyes." Lucais chuckled, sipping into her tea that Solas 'had not recommended to her' not so long ago. She is pleased with the mixture of the flavors, herbal leaves accompanied with Antiva's finest sugar. "It's quite alright, Cole. You really don't have to do this." Cole, out of nowhere, leans in forward, touching her forehead. And then her cheek, which was already covered with a pinkish tint to it. Lucais slightly blushes. It wasn't the fact that a few weeks before that she had a huge infatuation with the boy, /spirit/, but because of the gesture. Anyone who would try to touch Lucais' skin would make her blush at any given moment. "The clan's supplies arrived late this time, when the folk have already finished their early morning routine. Hahren is pleased, and you're happy, too. "Keeper, will this be enough?" /Will I be enough/? Ancient eyes boring into the youngling's, smiling. "Yes, da'len. It is enough." The flowers that bloomed in the Hinterlands. It reminded you of home. Home, where the winds greeted you with familiarity, where the fire's embers crackled softly and the people gathering around it, telling tales and legends of what your people used to be, what they used to have. You wished you could have more of it. You see... us. The Inquisition. /Am I enough/? Eyes watched, continuing to see you as their sign of hope. Bringer of hope. They think of you as their leader, the bird that watches over its hatchlings, that protects it. /You/ are their protector." Cole moves away. "You /are/ enough. Constantly worrying over the small things. At times, when Cassandra is busy with her training, you watched over Cullen. "Cullen, are you--" "Yes, Inquisitor. It hurts, but I will endure. Thank you for your concern." He endures for you, for the Inquisition. You make him strong, and others as well. Your advisors, your companions, remain at your side, ready to serve your every need, letting the become your arms, legs, eyes, mouth, and ears. /I want to be more than this./ But, you are. You /are/ more than what you were. The flames were burned out before, but they're all lit up now. Bigger, stronger, with more intensity and volume. You do more than what is needed for them. You helped them, still are. It makes me happy, makes others happy." Lucais was stunned. Cole looked into her mind, easing her with the comfort that she had needed these past few weeks, and it made her blush with a horrifying intensity. She was laid open to him, and only him. Cole looks up a little at Lucais, a small smile forming. "Have I done it?" Cole's intentions were pure, she knew that. What he did just now wasn't flirting, however. Whatever doubt or fear that Lucais held within herself has decreased, even if it was to a small amount. Lucais smiled. His eyes then lit up with happiness. "Very much so, Cole."

[denvntr-blog]

Infatuation (Cullen x Lavellan x Josephine)

A/N : AU where Cullen crushes on Inquisitor Lavellan. Lavellan's a warrior im this story, Weapon and Shield specifically. And also, Lavellan has a gigantic crush on Josephine. Josephine finds Lavellan dashing af. ------------------- Cullen : So... Lucais : You wish to have a word with me, Commander Cullen? Cullen : Just Cullen is fine, Lucais-- Lavellan. Wait, I mean, Herald-- Lucais : [grins] Lucais. Cullen : Lucais. Right. Lucais. A nice name. Very nice, indeed. Lucais : [she drops the longsword she carried, grabbing a clean cloth nearby to wipe off the sweat that now harbored her entire body.] I don't think you came here to ask permission for you to call me by my birth name, are you? Cullen : Certainly not! I am a consenting adult by all means. I can call you by your birth name however I like-- but that would still require me of your consent first, however. Lucais : [raises an eyebrow, slightly amused by the Commander's flustered state.] I absolutely believe that, Cullen. If you have nothing more to say, I must continue with my training-- Cullen : About that. With your-- [unable to say anything more, he waves his one hand in a circular motion towards Lucais.] Lucais : My training? Is there something... offensive about it? Cullen : No, nothing at all! It's just that-- I came here to-- Lucais : ? Cullen : [he clears his throat, putting both of his hands behind his back.] You fight well. Cole : [appears out of thin air, walking into the scene.] Her hands clench tightly onto the hilt of her sword. Muscles, tense. With each swing, she smiles and it brings ease to my heart, a feeling that I've not known for so long. The way the sunlight's rays were casted onto her pale, white skin. Her eyes still linger to her target. Focus, never wavering. He wants to tell you that you look stunning, that each time you bring your sword down, he never seemed to pry his eyes away. He looks, he /wants/. Heart skips a beat when she laughs out of nowhere. How can I tell her properly /that I like her/? Cullen : And I suddenly want to bury myself. Lucais : [her cheeks, slightly tinted with pink. she looks at Cole, then at Cullen. Cole, and then Cullen.] Oh. I never knew, Cullen. Cole : That is because he tries hard to not think about it, not to think of /you/. Yet he fails with every attempt as he sees you outside of Haven's gates, practicing with the training dummies alongside Cassandra. He sees less of you, now that he's retired to his office, desk filled with papers and workload. He still prefers to train outside with the soldiers. Where he can see you. Cullen : I think I can take over, Cole. Cole : He says, yet with each glance she gives him it makes him nervous, scared that her words may, or will, cut him down. [Cole walks away, now fading out of view.] Cullen : Well, he did most of the talking for me. Lucais : I can tell. Cullen : [he looks at her, and she's looking at him. It makes him nervous, hot all of a sudden from the armor that he's wearing. The thought of even talking to her right at this moment seemed miraculous to him. Not once had he ever dreamed of confessing to someome.] But, yes. I do-- [he sighs, shaking his head.] I do like you. Maybe a bit too much for my own liking. Lucais : And you came here wondering if I reciprocated the same feelings as well? Cullen : Yes. And I wanted to evaluate your performance. As our Inquisitor, of course. Lucais : [she smirks for only a moment, but her usual poker-face appearance returned.] I'm going to be serious about this, Cullen. Cullen : As you must. Lucais : I /do/ like you. I respect honor you as both my advisor and my friend, but-- [she then looks at Cullen, who still has a slight hopeful look in his eyes. Her heart ached.] I like you as my companion. A friend. Cullen : [after processing the words she just told him, he looks down and nods slowly.] I... understand. I'm sorry for troubling you with such matters, Lucais. Lucais : No offense taken, Cullen. [she walks towards him, and she saw him flinch. She extended her hand out.] I hope this doesn't strain the friendship we have now. Cullen : [smiles] No. Not at all, Lucais. [he takes the hand, shaking it. He was taken by surprise when Lucais pulled him in for a hug, rubbing and patting his back. Cullen was still for a slight moment, but returned the gesture with a rub and a pat on her back, too.] Lucais : [lets go, smiling at Cullen.] That was heartwarming. Cullen : Do you mind if I ask you a question, relating to this? Just one. And I won't bother you again with this. Lucais : Of course. What is it? Cullen : Has anyone in the Inquisition piqued your interest? Lucais : [she blinked. After registering his question to her, she blushed at the thought. She opened her mouth to say who, but was interrupted when a certain Antivan ambassador walked into the scene. Lucais looked at the figure, and smiled.] Josephine. Cullen : I-- what? [he turns around, finding Josephine standing behind him.] Oh-- Josephine. Josephine : If I am not interferring with anything important, may I steal Mistress Lavellan away for a moment? [she glances at Lucais, smiling.] We have received word from your clan. Lucais : And so it seems. [she turns to Cullen, nodding at him.] Cullen. Cullen : [nods back at her.] Inquisitor. [as he watched both of their figures walk away, he suddenly felt a cold breeze pass him by.] Cole : Her smile, bright as any day I've ever seen. She seems worn out. She speaks of the previous mission she partook in, shaken at what the results will be. I want to be there for her, give her tea and assure her that everything will go smoothly. Cullen : These aren't my thoughts, Cole-- [his eyes widen, looking back at both of Josephine and Lucais' retreating figure. He remembers what Lucais said, what her answer was. He smiles.] Cole : Eyes, tired, glazing over the letters and the words that she has read for the past few hours. Josephine mentions of Antiva, her homeland. The beauty, the color, and the music. She misses it. She yearns to hear the winds and the seas of her birthplace, but she hesitates. Her duty keeps her here, but she is not caged. She is glad. I want to bring back a piece of Antiva. For her, anything. Her heart feels light and safe with Josephine, she feels more her. She is her, and she loves it. She loves her. She looks, she wants. /She needs/. BONUS : Cullen : Why approach me to tell me all of that, Cole? Cole : She hasn't told you. Not yet, when she arrived and took her away. She wants to, she thought that you needed a proper answer, and through me, you heard. She wants you to know. She cares that much. Her feelings are gentle, soft. She doesn't want to hurt you, but she knows she did. Cullen : You knew what she needed? Cole : Yes. I help people. She needed to have you hear her thoughts, so I came and helped her. It makes her happy.

[denvntr-blog]

Hola, hello !! I was passing thru and came across your blog, and I REALLYYY love your artwork and art style. Keep up the good work, fam <3

thank uuuuuu!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WILL KEEP UP THE WORK YEAH!!!!

[denvntr-blog]

Amell [pt.1]

Hawke;  always tired of your bullshit.

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 A flash of nostalgia, with a hint of regret clouded his mind.

He tried to breathe. Tried, yet failed.

It feels as if I have failed Duncan all over again, he thought.

 He wasn’t straight in the head when he acknowledged the letter that was laid upon his working desk. The letter came from a companion he knew all too well, an ex-templar, just like him.

The letter smelled of roses.

Roses, they reminded him of—

  “Alistair.”

The first time they met.

“Alistair!”

Those blissful moments when they were on the battlefield, fighting off darkspawn.

“Alistair.”

A sense of worry in her tone, what was it called? Was it concern, or was it care? He remembered her eyes. Her eyes did show concern for him, but at that moment, he was too dense to know what her concern meant.

 “Alistair—“

  He snapped out of it before he decides to lose his mind once more. The scent was dizzying enough, making him remember old, unwanted memories.

Tearing open old wounds he had tried so hard to forget.

He proceeded in prodding the letter open, removing the seal off. Upon opening it, he was almost astonished by the sender’s neat and tidy handwriting. He had to laugh, knowing the sender of this letter hadn’t bothered in making his handwriting seem so feminine before.

(AU where Cullen’s handwriting was pretty bad before he was promoted as Commander)

  “

Dear Alistair,

 Pardon my lack of formalities, was it King Alistair or Your Highness? Do forgive me if I come off as being rude, especially to the King of Ferelden himself. These past few years have changed you into much of a better man, especially when you have decided to seize the throne and rule over Ferelden. How does your wife fare? Do send her my regards and my thanks for her aid in healing our wounded soldiers.

 I wish to address the need of new recruits for the Inquisition. We are in dire need of assistance, as we are now battling off darkspawn, along with matters concerning in closing off of the Veil. The Inquisitor invites you, on her behalf, and for your presence in our Masquerade. If you so decide to bring along the Queen, do bear in mind that assassins are quite active around these parts and can manage to enter the fortress without warning. Be heavily guarded, Alistair. Do keep in mind that the few of the people that will attend the Masquerade will try to persuade you in…--”

  Alistair stopped for a moment, as he narrowed his eyes at the sentence that seemed to be written in a very fast-paced manner. In fact, this was the only sentence that seemed to be so off with the letter.

Alistair snorted as he finally saw what was written.

  “—performing in any illicit or inappropriate acts, which I do not bother myself with, nor would I involve myself into such troubling affairs.”

  His innocence still seems to be intact, Alistair chuckled.

  “We wish to hear more from you, Alistair. I do not intend to pressure you any further, seeing how you are already burdened with royal, heavy tasks, but we would appreciate hearing your reply as soon as possible. Time is of the essence, dear friend. May the Maker watch over you.

 Yours Truly,

Cullen Rutherford

”

  That’s what brought him here, upon the Inquisition’s doorsteps.

The surrounding area—the training grounds, the campsites, the sound of laughter and boastful cheering—painfully reminded him of the past, and remembering the past always lead him to think of what used to be, and of her as well—

“Alistair?”

He stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he grinned at the person standing before him.

“Leliana. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“It has been far too long, Alistair.” Leliana snickered, crossing her arms. “Or is it King Alistair this time around?”

Alistair groaned. “Please stop with the formalities. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Leliana chuckled, running her hand over her nose. A habit that still remained, Alistair observed.

(AU where Leliana runs her hand over her nose whenever she finds something funny) She had a firm poise and elegance about her now, and Alistair could tell how much big of an impact that she created on Leliana—

“The fact that there’s still a small part of you that hasn’t changed,” Her lips slowly formed into a small smile. “It’s quite a relief.”

Leliana opened her mouth to add more, but she immediately regained her train of thought and quickly shut it. Alistair knew the drill. He always did.

Leliana knew better than to discuss the matter of that incident, and Alistair knew better to not think of it too much.

But, he did.

He thought of unwanted memories once the night came, as he always starts his memory train right into the battlefield where he fought off countless of darkspawn alongside his allies, and alongside her.

He always thought of it late at night, struggling and attempting not to. Anora had even decided upon herself that they should sleep in separate beds, knowing how Alistair tosses and turns frequently in his sleep more than often and she knew that he needed the space. He was sleepless, from the fighting, from his kingly duties, and from the thought of her.

Ever since the incident happened, the people around him tried to avoid, as much as possible, in bringing up the topic. And if they have done as much as attempt or breathe out a phrase or a sentence about it, it always ends up in silent responses, which accompanied with Alistair’s or his uncle Teagan’s choked laughter to shrug off the topic.

It was never a pleasant sight. Even Alistair couldn’t squeeze in the topic of cheese, no matter how delightful the idea had seemed.

“I see that you are weary from all that walking.” Leliana quickly changed the subject, which was quite a breather for Alistair. Choking up an awkward or nervous laugh to quickly change to another topic has become quite a bore and a bother for him to do all the time.

“Me, tired? Never! My legs happened to become all jiggly and wiggly while climbing up those steep mountains.”

Leliana giggled, a sound Alistair found pleasant to the ears.

“Your humour always, and somehow, manages to keep you sane at the very least.”

“What can I say? I still try to come off as the ‘idiotic’ one. Remember how Morrigan used to bite my ear off on how ‘other-worldly’ and ‘intelligent’ she was, compared to me? Unbelievable.”

Leliana was about to come up with a snarky remark, but a soldier signalled for her immediate attendance, and her expression quickly morphed into a more attentive state.

“And while all this talking and reminiscing of the past seems all fun and nostalgic, I’m afraid I must be off.” Leliana casted a quick smile, moving past Alistair towards their quarters.

“And where might you be going?”

Leliana didn’t stop walking towards the entrance. “I have matters to attend to with the Inquisitor.”

“The Inquisitor?”

Leliana sighed. “Yes, Alistair, the Inquisitor. Now if you would excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

Leliana was then out of sight as she turned around a corner of the Inquisition’s quarters.

A fellow qunari alongside his fellow magister watched the scene unfold. The qunari laughed, nudging the magister’s shoulders.

“I bet our boss woulda liked to see that.”

“And who wouldn’t?” Dorian said, smirking. “I never thought anyone had the intention to brush off the Ferelden king so easily.”

  “King Alistair,” She knelt, and those that stood behind her mimicked her action. “It is of high honour to have you grace us with your presence. Might I ask,” The woman looked up at him with curiosity. “What made you come all this way on such short notice? We have not begun any progress in starting the Masquerade yet.”

Alistair moved his hand in an up and down motion, and all of them stood up in his command.

“I apologize for coming in so early. I was informed that cheese was distributed in your parts quite frequently, and I just had to come in early before anyone gobbles it all up before I do.”

The woman that stood before him raised an eyebrow, slowly turning her head behind to look at the commander. Cullen looked as bewildered as the people that stood beside him were.

“Treveylan—“ The woman shot him a look, making Cullen shift in his place. “I-I mean, Inquisitor, as far as I can remember, I have not written or included anything in the letter about our stock of cheese—“

“Oooh, so you’re the Inquisitor?” Alistair placed a hand on his chin, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I would have thought that the Inquisitor would be big, horrifying, and stinky. So much for my wild imagination, I suppose.”

Treveylan looked up at Alistair with a look of annoyance.

“So, was the cheese part a joke?”

“Maker, I hope not! You may chance upon me sobbing and whining on the floor once I find out that your lovely stock of cheese has ran out, or was non-existent to begin with. Oh and please, you may call me Alistair, which is short for King Alistair. If you want to go for a shorter name, it’s Al. But then again, no one has ever called me by that pet name before.”

“I take that you are tired from all the walking, then?”

“I suspect that you’re suspecting what I’m suspecting the thing that you’re suspecting here.” Alistair sniggered, making Treveylan all the more annoyed by him already.

“And that is?”

“That I am acting sooo hilarious all of a sudden—which you think is probably peculiar for a king to do, right?—and you think that I need a rest. From walking, and also from climbing those steep mountains. Have I ever mentioned the fact that I practically slayed a High Dragon coming here?”

“I don’t—beg pardon?”

The people who bothered attending the meeting between the king and the Inquisitor was all but amused by their ‘political’ conversation, as one has dared cited and used as a joke for others to laugh at. Josephine heard of this, and whenever she had the chance, she did the honour of smacking one of the soldiers who were making fun of the entire façade with her rolled up paperwork. Cullen was now being more careful not to let out even the smallest giggle around Josephine.

Treveylan pinched the bridge of her nose.

The King of Ferelden, cheese, and what more? I have enough on my plate as it is. She thought.

“It is decided. Josephine,” Treveylan turned around, catching Josephine in the act of scolding one of their soldiers but stood firm once her name was called. “Do escort the king—” Treveylan noticed Alistair pouting at the fact she hadn’t used his name. “To his chambers. Be sure the area is heavily guarded, I loathe the thought of having someone of importance getting assassinated by the time they have arrived here in due’s time.”

“Understood, Inquisitor.” Josephine answered with a bow.

“Ooh, nice accent. Is it possible that you came from Antiva?” Alistair asked, making Josephine jump.

“Yes, my lordship. How could you have possibly known? Extensive research?”

“It would have been discomforting to have a shem—sorry, king—to do a background check on us before even arriving here.” Sera commented, hiding at the backmost part of the crowd.

“No, no. You sounded just like that one fellow companion I had when I was but a Grey Warden. Damn that religious assassin for stealing away my pocketful of cheeses.” Alistair breathed out the last sentence with a whisper.

“Be on your way, then. I must not trouble you any further, and I have my own matters to attend to.” Treveylan stated, turning her back to Alistair as she was approached by Leliana and continued to drag the Inquisitor away from the crowd. As both of their figures disappeared, a loud screech erupted within someone’s room, and a furious, bald elf came out with scribbles written on his face.

“Sera!” He screamed, as the other suspected elf retreated back into Maker knows where, snickering as she did so.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it like being the king?” Josephine innocently asked.

They were both heading towards his sleeping chambers, as people passed them by with sheer curiosity and astonishment to find the king of Ferelden walking casually about in their hallways. While still having an air of royalty and importance, of course.

Alistair snorted. “Starting it off with the deep questions, aren’t we?”  

“Oh, if you are bothered by this then it is fine to not give a response—“

“It’s fine.” Alistair casted a smile, reassuring the ambassador that it was no bother. “But, where to begin, exactly?”

“You could start at the beginning, before you were declared as king of Ferelden.”

“Are you sure? The beginning seems awfully long as it is, and I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

Josephine smiled. “We could circle the quarters before going towards your chambers, your lordship.”

“For an ambassador, you are quite willing.”

“I do what I must.”

-----------------------------------------------

A/N :

Whoever you are, thank you for reading the first part of this fic, Amell. The story is actually done already, and if you guys want to see more of this, do comment down below or give it a like, a reblog, whichever you want. And again, thank you for reading it, and have a wonderful day/night. :-)

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Sasslexa

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bed buddy

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time to go 

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hola

I post stories, fics, and drawings here. That is all. P.S. if you happen to know me irl or you found me thru Twitter, don't spam this account.

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05/14/17

For you, Mom.

from me to you

P.S. screw those green lines.

 Short Flashback Of:

THE TWO HALF-BROTHERS

 “Doesn’t that sweater bother you?”

”Not really, because—“

“Don’t.”

“—it’s made out of brother material.”

“Let mom and dad disown you.”

 The older brother’s laughter echoed along the hallways.

He put the younger brother into a headlock, rubbing his

knuckles against his head. The force and friction that the

older one put caused the younger of the two to wince in pain.

 “H-Hey, that hurts!” The younger brother said,

struggling against the heavy weight of his older brother.

Unfortunately, his attempts were overpowered.

“You know what hurts more?”

He let go of his brother, who now rubbed his head in agony.

“What?”

“Life.”

    PROLOGUE.1 : Getting In Trouble (Again)

 “You are about to get in trouble for this, Marcus.”

           “Not if mom and dad found out, I won’t.”

           A heavy sigh escaped out of Brandon’s lips, eyeing the young adult walking in front of him, as if nothing had happened just a few minutes ago. The pouch that hung and swayed just about Marcus’s hips only proved to him that what happened just awhile back did happen. The bloodstains spotted on both of Marcus’s gloves made Brandon cringe at the memory.

             “I can’t believe you’re sporting money by getting yourself involved in these good-for-nothing street fights.” Brandon blurted out, not being able to contain his annoyance. Marcus looked back at him, a sly grin grooming his features.

           “It’s one way of getting money. How could I possibly say no to that?”

           “Marcus, if you aren’t aware by now, you could consider landing a job for yourself. Or better yet,” Brandon spotted a pebble and kicked it, landing a hit to Marcus’s pouch. Marcus yelped in response, shielding his pouch. “Accept father’s offer.”

           “Jobs are booooring. And father’s offer? Psh, don’t make me laugh. That’s what you call imprisonment, if you’re the type to enjoy being held down and becoming a slave.”

           “Not everyone thinks the same way as you do.”

           “Except for you!” He grinned, slowing his pace until they were walking side by side.

           Brandon shook his head in disapproval and slight amusement. “That’s all in your head, brother.”

Just as they went out of the narrow alleyway, a black limousine came into view and parked from where they stood. People who were near the pavement slowly backed away from fear, and others stood still and looked at the vehicle in amazement and awe.

 Before the passenger’s side of the door even had the chance to open to reveal another one of the brothers’ babysitters (A weird yet accurate concept, Brandon thought to himself. To think our heavily equipped and heavily weighted bodyguards would be called as our babysitters.), Brandon took hold of Marcus’s sleeves and bolted out of the scene. The civilians who got in their way either stepped aside, or were merely bumped into by accident. As soon as they picked up their speed, passing by buildings and people in a quick daze, Brandon quickly let go of the sleeves he tightly held onto, and let Marcus run freely alongside him.

Marcus managed to stifle out his laughter, jumping over a vendor’s accessories shop. The vendor looked appalled and in shock.

“And here I thought you were the most responsible one out of the two of us!”

“Who said I can’t have a little bit fun of my own?”

“You do realize this will only end up getting the both of us in more trouble than before?”

Brandon smirked.

“I do, and that’s the thrill and fun of it.”

   PT.2 : Getting Told Off (Again)

 “Do enlighten me the thought of where the two of you were.” Their father said, reading the daily newspaper without glancing at the two half-brothers.

 The two brothers glanced at each other, afraid of meeting their father’s gaze. Marcus had an apologetic look on his face, mouthing Brandon an apology.

“I’m sorry.” He mouthed to him.

Brandon smiled, and nodded at him.

He couldn’t help getting told off by their father once again; neither did he have a choice. As the older brother of the two, he was given a duty right after Marcus was born into this world.

“You are to protect your brother at all costs.”

His mother’s words echoed in his head. Marcus’s mother, not his.

Brandon’s mother had passed away from breast cancer when he was three years old, and his father turned into a wreck during and after attending the funeral. Within a matter of weeks, he was up and about once again, wearing that stoic and unpredictable face. Only a matter of months did he find a new wife, then Marcus came along. He did remember trying to hold baby Marcus into his arms, embracing the warmth that he felt through his half-brother. He was a bundle of joy, he thought. Anyone who would look at Marcus at that time would’ve thought, “What an adorable pumpkin!”

But now, Brandon wished he had squished the life out of Marcus. Half-joking.

 He smiled fondly of the memory, but the burden that was given to him at such a young age carried him until now, no matter how heavy it seemed.

What would mother say if she were still alive? Brandon thought to himself.

 “Well?” His father demanded, his voice getting more ominous by the second that passed them by without any of them uttering a single word. “Where were the both of you?”

“Father, we were just—” Marcus started, but their father raised a single hand for him to stop.

“There is no point in making a salad without its vegetables, just as there is no point in lying to me, Marcus.”

“I haven’t even said anything before you interrupted me!” Marcus said, pouting.

Brandon sighed, patting Marcus’s head out of pity.

“I found him in one of those alleyways again, father. He was—” He took a peek at Marcus’s expression before continuing. “—doing his usual business.”

“As I have been told by Brian, since the both of you have successfully outran him more than once.”

Marcus gave a light-hearted giggle, until Brandon flicked his forehead.

They heard their father sigh, finally closing and putting down the newspaper that he held. He still didn’t look back at them, and Marcus got chills receiving that kind of treatment once more.

“Street fighting isn’t a business. Nor is it a professional one to partake in.”

“But,” Marcus started, and for a moment, their father’s head turned slightly to the right.

“It does pay me a good amount of money.”

“Would you rather become a senseless barbarian than a poised businessman? What you are doing could make you end up in the newspaper headlines, and they’ll see just how much of an irresponsible heir that you are. Your recklessness and childish behaviour are not needed.” His father hissed. His words cut through Marcus deep, as if poisoning his entire being. Before he could bark out a snarky remark, Brandon gently placed a hand on top of Marcus’s shoulder.

 “I apologize, father. I know that you only want what is best for the both of us—” Marcus scoffed. “—and I’m sure Marcus understands your disposition.”

“And you, Brandon.” Brandon flinched at the sound of his name being called by his father. He didn’t know if it bore a warning, or worse, a hint of a punishment waiting for him.

“You are aware of the fact that your brother is your responsibility as well, I take it?”

“Yes, father.”

“Then, you do understand that his actions are your actions?”

Brandon paused for a moment before answering.

“… Yes, father.”

“Good. It seems you have not forgotten your duty as the eldest son of this family. Bear that well in your mind, Brandon. Not only that,” Their father slowly stood up, and as he now faced them, his expression was once again unreadable. Was he disappointed? Was he furious? The both of them could never tell until their father raised his tone against them.

“Both of you will inherit the family company within a matter of months. I suppose the both of you have remembered the burdens that each of you must carry while keeping the family company in business.” Both of them nodded at him. “And I need the both of you to be prepared when this happens.” He carefully eyed Marcus, who hasn’t shrunk down by his father’s hard gaze at him. “You do understand where I’m getting at, Marcus?”

Marcus looked anywhere but at his father. “Yes, pops.”

Their father looked a bit disgruntled by the sound of that nickname ringing in his ears, but his eyes start to soften as he patted both of his sons on the head, then lightly ruffling their hair.

Their father looked down at Marcus’s gloves, which were covered by bloodstains. He sighed heavily. “Fighting your way through things isn’t always the solution to everything.”

Marcus remained silent, not knowing what type of answer his father would want to hear from him. As far as he knew, his father had had enough of his rude and snarky comments. Preventing from any further disappointment, Marcus bowed his head and said nothing.

His expression returned to its previous state in a matter of seconds, and he retreated back to his newspaper. The brothers looked at him in confusion, waiting for his further command or response. Their father raised one hand and signalled them that they are dismissed.

But before the brothers were able to retreat quietly into their rooms, their father uttered one final statement for the night.

 “I know I can count on the both of you.”