#`` but when those arrows turned into andraste's grace flowers .....................

[covenstrays]

finally finished this playthrough of dai (not tresspasser) and i was thinking about what nahia would be doing up until the exalted council. and then i remembered she dies lmao.

[jonogueira]

Áine.

Here’s the AO3 and the link to Moon Hair e Fire Eyes. I was listening to this while writing.

Chapter 31

The nothing.

Cullen had the small daisy in his closed hand; so many times he tried to throw it away.

That night in his office when he didn’t light the candles or the fireplace, where the cold wind came through the open windows, he leaned on the wall after reading her letter for the seventh time, and stared at the valley below where the small spots of light indicated that he still had to stay.

He felt the petal in his palm and swung his arm, but again failed to open his hand letting the little flower fly away from him, getting lost in the ocean of snow. He sighed and turned his back, his hand on his chest with the most precious thing he had in it.

When the demons had been slain, and her brothers finally reached him and Nevan in that terrible scene, her body in his arms and blood spreading across the ground, none of them said a word, and her brothers didn’t stop him when he carried her body away.

They all knew she believed in the Maker, and as good Andrastians, they cremated her body. Cullen made sure to cut the wood himself, to lay her body there and set it on fire. He said goodbye and stayed long after there were only ashes. He picked and scattered them in the villager’s garden. It was a shame there weren’t many flowers, it had a white blanket making it difficult to see the ground. A sad smile reached his face when he realized his life would be like the small place; voided of flowers and color, just a big nothingness.

His life had been one shade of cold blue, but when she arrived, she brought along a rainbow, and the color had other meaning, other tones; it turned to a warm hue, like the life she had given him, blue like the ocean and sky, blue like the forget-me-nots.

The forget-me-nots with the blue petals surrounding a yellow center, protecting it. Blue like her curls and yellow like his. She said she would protect him and she did until the end.

When he gave her the flowers, he didn’t know their real meaning, but now he did, and he hated it. To know he had her, and he let her go. He had all he would ever want but was stupid enough to ruin everything. She told him not to go, she asked him; he didn’t listen, and now he had to live with the consequences. She died because of him.

At first, he thought her family would hate him, wrong again; they were closer than before. Always around to check on him; Mother would often bring him food in the office, the twins never quit calling him to a few rounds of Wicked Grace, Finley was present in the training ground every day, and Nevan always played chess with him. None of them demanded an explanation or judged him because the pain he was feeling they were feeling too. He wanted them to hate him as he hated himself, but in mutual pain and emptiness, they went on existing.

Existing because, without her, food didn’t taste, the sun wasn’t bright enough, the nights were waking nightmares and the days dragged on. He continued functioning because he had a job to do, a self-proclaimed god to kill.

When they arrived in Skyhold Leliana was waiting for them by the gates. She looked Cullen in the eyes and hugged him.

“She is fine.” – She said in a matter of fact whisper only for him to hear – “She has to. She promised me she would always come back from her missions, and she never breaks her promises.”

He tried to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the small bird flew away; the spymaster didn’t give him the opportunity; the Chantry’s sister started to pray.

She always talked about her as if she was still alive, like she would walk through the gates at any given moment, and he hated her for it. There was a discussion in the war room, but she was set in her beliefs. He told her every little detail from that day, how he killed her, how he killed him. Leliana listened, and with those piercing blue eyes she saw him, she saw how deep his guilty went and scolded him for that, she told him he should have faith in Andraste, the Maker, and Áine; she swept his tears away.

He questioned her times and times how could she still believe she was alive, and if she had any news and her answer was always the same.

“I don’t have any news, but I believe in her, and so should you.”

And one day there in the training grounds, in the first rays of morning Sera joined him in his training routine. She arrived without announcing and stood there by his side. He saw her take an arrow from her quiver and aim with precision. She was just there, still; he knew she was thinking about the times she was helping Áine, teaching her how to use her new longbow. He remembered the funny dance she did around Sera when she hit the target with an ice arrow, and how the elf got angry.

He swung his sword once and then again, and again, and again until he cut the dummy in half. In the corner of his eyes, he saw arrows being loosed one after another and hit the big red circle. When there were no more arrows, he saw the small elf take her dagger, and sank it repeatedly in the dummy near his. He didn’t know how long they kept at it, all he knew is that somehow he hugged Sera and they silently lamented into each other’s arms. She held him tightly by the waist and cried. She sobbed in his arms, and he understood.

Varric, to his surprise, was always around. He never let Cullen have a moment alone, not during the day at least. He often dragged Curly to eat with him in the tavern, not that they ate anything, but they would just sit there and drink. Varric advised him to talk to someone, but he snorted and said that he was fine, and after the hundredth time the dwarf asked him, and he finally gave up, he told Cullen to at least try writing what he was feeling. And he did try, but all he could do was write her name, over and over.

Dorian placed a chair in Cullen’s office and would often go there with a book in his hand; never saying anything, never questioning, just sitting there leaving Cullen to wonder what was it he wanted. And when the Commander finally asked, he merely stated that when he was ready, he was going to talk to him, not before and not after, but at the right time. Cullen got used to the mage’s presence and even secretly thanked him, the blue liquid on his shelf more tempting than ever, and the man’s presence kept it away.

The Inquisitor had left to the Lost Temple of Dirthamen a few days after they left to their mission, and she had taken with her Blackwall, Cole, and Cassandra. They didn’t know what had happened and Cullen was grateful, he wished to postpone as much as he could to meet with them, he couldn’t handle more people pitting him. Iron Bull was sent to the Storm Cost along with Solas to meet with the Blades of Hessarian two days after they arrived, but both warriors showed their sympathies and promised a round of ale when they returned. Krem nodded in acknowledgment.

Josephine tried to take some work from him, but she then understood that keeping his mind busy was the solution, so she helped by not letting any noble bother him. She would also send a lot of little notes between the reports saying that he had friends, and they were there for him.

He spent many awaken nights in the garden, not for the flowers because there weren’t many, and yet, he thought it was quiet and reserved, different from his bed where it was loud and scary. Her scent and her touch, her laughter and her voice, her smile and her eyes, her curls and her warmth haunting him. No matter what he did, the many times he tried, but he just had to close his eyes, and he could feel her warm blood on his hands, he could hear her mocking laughter.

It was the sixtieth day since she had died, and all he wanted was to be alone in his office, to hold the small flower and think about her, maybe try to write something, send his sister the letter he had been avoiding since she last wrote to him. But he couldn’t, the Inquisitor had arrived three days before; Alessa, Cassandra, and Blackwall showed their support, but the spirit Cole was nowhere to be seen.

And there they were, in the war room discussing their strategies to go to the Winter Palace. They had to re-plan a few things since Áine’s presence was required to move on with their older plan, and without her, they had to find a substitute, and they all agreed Maryden would be perfect.

And when the meeting came to an end, and he was standing there alone with the small ice flower in his hands, his fingers caressed each petal, like they were one of her curls. The gesture reminded him of the dream he had that same night.

That precious night he dreamed of her, not a nightmare but a dream. They were young in the tower, he a templar and she a mage, before the chaos and everything that changed their lives. She was exactly like he remembered with her smiling eyes, the same way of biting the inner mouth, and the humming, always the humming.

They were alone in the barely lit library, the moonlight illuminating the books on the shelves, the sudden flash of lightning and the sounds of thunder filled the place. He approached her with wavering steps and raised his shaking hand to touch her cheek but stopped midway, afraid it was a dream. She laughed, and when he felt the warmth of her hand in his, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he saw her smile and lean on his touch.

“Silly templar,” ­– She said while giggling – “don’t be afraid!”

He held her close and felt her arms around his neck, her breathing on his skin.

“Don’t leave me alone, please. I’m nothing without you. You are my everything, and I’m so sorry, I should…”

She silenced him with her fingertips on his mouth.

“I will always be with you. All you need to do is call, and I will come.” – He tried but failed to stop them, and the tears rolled down his cheeks. – “No, don’t cry.” – She cleaned his tears with the tip of her thumbs while humming. – “Don’t cry silly templar. Can you promise me something?” – She studied his honey colored eyes.

He wrapped her curls around his fingers and nodded while breathing in their scent. She held him, and he heard her saying “don’t forget to live.”

He woke up calling her name and noticed he was alone in his dark room, in his cold bed, with a wet pillow.

He swallowed hard, tucked the little memento away and left the place with a stack of reports in his arms. He turned to close the door behind him and saw the orange clouds through the stained-glass windows, and he let the words slip through his lips.

“I miss you Blue. I wish you were here.”

He didn’t need to look to know where he was going, Skyhold’s architecture was engraved in the back of his mind, so he let it wander, and he asked himself what would they be doing tonight if she was still there.

He opened the door to Josephine’s office, and the warmth coming from the fireplace reminded him of the day he saw her dancing for the first time; and although he didn’t dance, he wished he had danced with her when he had the opportunity.

He walked to the ambassador’s desk to retrieve more reports, and he remembered the first letter Áine sent him. In which she wished he could find someone that could make him happy like he did her happy with only one smile, and he wished he had written her more letters, telling her how happy she made him feel, how complete he was with her.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He filled his lungs and held his breath, letting the air out with trembling chest. He took the reports and turned to leave the place but stood in front of the fireplace; she always made sure his office was warm when she was in Skyhold. She lit all the candles and the fireplace. At night she would bring her body next to his claiming she was cold and then she would entwine her legs in his, but she was also the first to move away because it was too hot. The memory brought a smile to his lips, and he ran his fingers through his hair.

He slowly backed away from the fire, and with a last glance he headed to the door, but when he was a meter away, Cole appeared in front of him with a smile on his face.

“Everything is going to be alright now.”

And just the way the boy appeared he left, leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts.

How could he say that? How could he claim everything was going to be alright when she was dead? Cullen felt his lips tremble and took a deep breath.

With two big steps he reached the door, his shaking fingers turned the knob. Pulling the door, he felt a gulf of cold air hit him. He entered the throne room with head high; he was, after all, the Commander of the Inquisition, he couldn’t be seen like that, feeling sorry for himself, shaken, broken.

When the noise of the hinges stopped, and Cullen had fully entered the place, he noticed everyone was looking at him. Josephine was standing by the Inquisitor’s side near the throne, and they had teary eyes. Leliana was giving him the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face. Dorian and Varric, who were leaving the undercroft, nodded at him.

Cullen was standing there, eyebrows pinched together and lips slightly apart when he heard laughter, and that was when he noticed the place was in silence. He turned his head in the sound’s direction and saw Finley, the twins, Nevan and Mother in a mess of arms. Dudu looked at him and whistled, and that was when he saw them.

Blue curls.

The mass of arms retreated, and he saw her. She was standing there, near the garden’s door, and Maker she had the most beautiful smile.

His feet moved without being commanded. At first, they were slow, like walking in water; he traced her body and noticed the burn scar on her left arm. Then his feet were normal, and he saw her tucking blue curls behind her ear. The reports fell from his hands when he started running in her direction; she laughed with her hand over her mouth.

His body met hers, and he lifted her off the ground. His lips locked on hers and he felt her fingers in his hair. At that moment he made sure to breathe her in, to taste her, to feel her against him, her touch on his skin. He could feel her smile against his lips.

He put her down and saw himself kneel before her, his fingers grabbing her clothes to keep her near. His cheeks were wet, and he gazed into her eyes.

“Is this real or is it a dream?” – He didn’t care about anything else but her; he ignored the nobles, the soldiers, the people. He cried – “Are you really here?”

She crouched near him, and he saw her wince when she bent her right ankle. She kissed his lips again and whispered in his mouth while they studied each other’s eyes.

“Oh, silly templar! Can I not leave for a few days?” – She hugged him and whispered in his ear. – “You know how much I miss my pet butterfly, Ms. Rocky. And if I remember correctly blood magic is not allowed around here.”

He laughed, and it was a laugh of relief, of longing, of guilt.

“Áine…”

He touched her wet face with the tip of his fingers, but she interrupted him.

“I have something for you.” – She gave him a package. – “I hope you like it.”

He looked at the package and her. She was biting her inner mouth, and he smiled at the little gesture.

He opened it, and a pair of new gloves were in front of him. He raised his eyes, and she was smiling.

“I found your gloves on the ground. I knew they were yours, I would recognize them anywhere. So, I bought new ones. I hope you liked them.” – She was blushing.

And he was there looking at her. Why? Why was she like that? After everything she had been through because of him, she still cared, she still wanted him.

He kissed her again and thanked with a smile. He stood up and took her in his arms; they left to his office and none of them looked behind.

“Everything is as it should be!” – Cole whispered with a big smile.

Thank you for your time!

[of-storms-and-saints-blog]

Blood on the Trail

Shielded in Flame Part 01: Tainted Hero Chapter 7: Blood on the Trail

“Oh, now that is just unnecessary.” Alistair gazed at a large fallen tree. The suspended tree acted as a natural bridge between two large rocky hills. Fallen soldiers swung down from the trunk and branches. The trail the company had been following passed underneath. Alistair shook his head. “Poor sods.”

“We should cut them down,” Ser Jory suggested.

“Aye.” Brina felt uneasy. “We should be quick. This is the first real sign of nightgangers we've encountered all day.”

"Nightgangers?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.

Brina sighed. "Darkspawn."

“Ah, True. There are some darkspawn close by.” Alistair led the way around the back of one hill, searching for a more accessible path. He stopped suddenly, looked back at the group and put a finger to his lips.

The others nodded, and they all quietly drew their weapons. They picked their way carefully to the top.

Alistair held up a hand, and they stopped. “Where are they?” He said to himself. “Cover me.” He pulled out a dagger and carefully made his way across the tree trunk. He sat, straddling the tree, and began cutting through the ropes. Brina, Daveth, and Jory glanced around them watching for signs of movement.

After the last body dropped, Alistair slowly made his way back. He stood quietly with his hand up, listening. He scanned the ground before glancing up at them, mouthing, “Get ready.”

For a moment, wind through the trees was the only sound Brina could hear. What is that sound? A strange . . . Rumbling?

Behind them, three darkspawn broke free from the ground. They were the size of dwarves. Two carried dual daggers, and the third had a bow.

"Genlocks! Watch your backs!" Alistair spun to keep his back to his companions.

All three Genlocks disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

Where'd they go? Wait . . . What is that? She caught a glimpse of something shimmering near Ser Jory. There you are.

She threw a light shard. It flew inches from Ser Jory's chest. He jumped back in surprise. The shard pierced the darkspawn square between the eyes, and the darkspawn dropped to the ground.

Jory whipped his head back and forth between Brina and the dead darkspawn. “How did you see that?”

“They aren't completely invisible.”

“Look out!” Daveth threw a dagger, hitting another behind Alistair.

Alistair nodded in thanks. “The third Genlock is still around with a bow.”

“Watch this and cover me.” Brina circled her staff above her head. Within seconds, clouds full of snow appeared. The snowflakes blew around, sticking to everything in the vicinity.

“Wait, look, the snow is sticking to something there,” Jory said, pointing.

With some effort, Brina closed her other hand into a fist. Ice formed, encasing the Genlock. She wasn't fast enough. The Genlock released an arrow before being completely frozen. The bolt struck Brina's shoulder.

She cried out, dropping her staff.

“Brina! Are you all right?” Alistair sheathed his sword and dropped his shield.

Jory went to Brina, examining the entry and exit of the arrow. “It's deep.”

Brina gasped. “Did it go all the way through? I can't tell.”

“Not quite . . .” Daveth made a face.

“I can feel the tip of the point, right here.” Jory helped shift some of Brina’s outer layers.

“Then we'll have to push it through.” Alistair knelt down in front of her, his eyes locked reassuringly with hers. “Are you ready?”

Brina took a deep breath and nodded.

Alistair gripped the arrow. “Hold her steady.”

Daveth held her uninjured arm and shoulder. Jory took her other arm and braced her back.

“Ready? One-” Alistair pushed the arrow a few inches.

Brina yelled out and grunted. “Bronto's ass . . .”

Alistair smirked. “You know it's easier that way.”

“Still . . . shit.”

“All right, let's break the head off, and we can pull it back through.”

Brina leaned forward. Jory supported her weight and held the arrow at the base where it protruded from her shoulder. She took a sharp breath when Alistair broke the head off. “Son of a nug.”

“Okay . . . Jory, Daveth, brace her again.” In one swift pull, the shaft was out. Brina let out a long groan. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Alistair put a hand on her other shoulder. “Can you move your arm, Brina?”

She wiggled and bent her fingers, turned her wrist and forearm. Her elbow took more effort to bend. “I can't move my shoulder . . . but I can move my elbow.”

“Should we go back?” Jory's face held concern. “We just have to get the blood from the darkspawn. Can't we come back for the treaties another day?”

“No. Just give me the tonic from my pack. And one of those bandages. No, not that. Aye, that.”

Jory handed her a small glass bottle. With her uninjured arm, she held the bottle and opened the stopper with her teeth. Brina downed its contents and shuddered. I need to work on the taste.

She waved Jory back over. “Bandage. Hold that side. Cross it over. Aye.” They tied it tight around her shoulder under her armpit. “There's some extra for padding. Get as much in there as possible in the front and the back.”

With difficulty, she moved her injured arm and secured her elbow and tucked her forearm into her wide belt. “There's a larger cloth in there. Aye, that one. Help me tie it around.” Daveth and Jory worked to secure her arm. With her arm bandaged to her torso, she used her staff to stand back up. “My thanks. Don't worry; I still have my other arm and my staff. I can cast magic.”

Alistair eyed her for a moment before nodding his head. “All right. Now that we have dead darkspawn, we need to get blood. Do you all have your vials? Good. Well, go on!”

Daveth covered his mouth and nose. “Eugh! Smells awful! Like . . . rotting meat.”

Alistair put his hands on his hips. “Well, what did you expect? Flowers?”

“I dunno . . . I've just never been this close to one. Hideous things . . .”

Jory managed to get his vial half full before dropping it and running a few feet away. He fell to his knees and retched.

Brina felt sick as well. It's so much worse this close. Once her vial was full, she backed away quickly, relieved. Jory and Daveth took a little longer but managed to fill theirs as well.

“Next, we need to find the treaties. They are located at on old Grey Warden base about three miles south of Wildling Lake. The lake is about half a mile off that way. We just follow this trail, and we'll get there in no time.” Alistair led the way down the hill and back to the trail.

“What about our fallen comrades?” Jory pointed.

They all glanced back at the bodies on the ground.

“We'll send someone back for them when we get back. It's a hazard of the job, and it's too dangerous for us to stick around.” Alistair turned on his heel and marched down the trail. Reluctantly, the others followed.

The journey to the lake was quiet until Jory spoke up. “Alistair, what can you tell us about the Joining?” He sallied up next to Alistair.

“I can't tell you anything.”

“Can't? Or won't?” Brina cocked an eyebrow.

“Can't. Can. Not. It was a secret to me as well.”

Jory tossed up his hands. “Why is it a secret?”

“Let's just say that all will be made clear later tonight as long as we can get the treaties and get back to the compound. Oh, look, the lake. We're here. Be on the lookout for a marked tree.”

“This is a lake?” Brina scoffed. Wildling Lake was little more than a mud puddle that took up less space than the infirmary did at Ostagar. “I'm surprised the sun hasn't dried it up. It hasn't rained or snowed in days.”

“You've been up in the mountains. It doesn't rain or snow down here very much. A little further west and you'll see six different rivers, all mountain run-off. This just happens to be a flooded area.”

“Flooded . . . if you can call it that.”

“Oh! There's the tree.” Daveth gestured toward a scraggly tree. Purple paint was smeared across the trunk.

“Great. Three miles south. You'll know it when you see it.” Alistair began down a path that broke off from the main trail. It was thinner and somewhat overgrown.

Brina happened to glance down and noticed a patch of white flowers with red centers. Sigfrost's Eye! She bent to pick a few.

“What are you doing, Brina?” Jory stopped to watch her.

“The kennel master, Jove, wanted these.”

“Andraste's Grace?”

“Aye, that's what he called it. I know it as Sigfrost's Eye.”

“I heard the Mabari were sick, and he was looking for that as a cure,” Daveth piped in. “Maybe grab some extra. He told me he'd pay for it.”

Brina shrugged. “If it helps, it helps.”

“Come, let's get those treaties.” Alistair helped Brina up.

They walked in silence. The trees pressed around them. The branches became thick and twisted, and the air grew colder as they went deeper into the forest.

Brina looked around uneasily. “The forest is sick here.”

“Yes. We're entering the heart of the Korcari Wilds. We must tread lightly. There are darkspawn afoot.” Alistair drew his sword and led them deeper into the darkness. Brina glanced at Jory, whose brow was deeply furrowed, and shrugged before following Alistair. Jory sighed deeply as he and Daveth stayed close behind her.