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greypetrel · 9 months

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I genuinely can't remember if I sent a prompt yet! If I haven't (and if I am understanding the list right):

[ lay ] for Aisling (and maybe Maria?)

Hi Mo!

Yes you did actually asked it and I threw down some ideas but… If I can use Maria?? Ok well I jumped at the chance. It got… Longer than I would but I just had to include a little experiment. (which was loosely inspired by an experiment of the Mythbusters. The original involved a frozen turkey, but I guess Aisling would be firmly against wasting food, even for science.)

Not gonna lie, I’m pretty nervous about this and I really REALLY hope I got her right and did her justice! Thank you for letting me play with your lovely baby, it’s been so nice to see them interact!

Tis the prompt list

Three Cards Trick (🎶)

[ lay ] for your muse to come rest their head in mine’s lap or against their shoulder

It took her a while to warm up, and in hindsight, it took the both of them surprisingly little.

At first Aisling tried to kept her distance from the Champion, keeping exquisitely polite in a shy way but at the same time never being the first to start a conversation or look for the other’s company. She had mixed feelings towards the woman, truth to be told: she had only admiration for her, from what she read in Varric’s book and heard from him. The first impression she had was of a kind person that knew her boundaries very well and didn’t back up if she had to protect the people she cared for. And she admired that in her.

And yet, speaking with Cassandra left something deeply bitter in her throat. It was all but ten days since the Seeker rejected her feelings, and hearing the woman say out loud that if Hawke had been at the Conclave, the Divine wouldn’t have died. That they planned on having Hawke as Inquisitor, not her… It hurt. It hurt her more than she would care to admit, and she felt like a plan C at best, an obliged choice at worst. It didn’t help the fact that as Aisling was struggling with adapting to a whole set of things that were wildly new for her, Hawke seemed to navigate everything with ease and charm. Hawke knew how to behave in high society, Aisling barely knew how to properly behave with commoners, and even then there was something that didn’t fit well. Hawke didn’t seem to struggle with socks and closed shoes for formal events, didn’t need to pay attention to every single step because she felt constantly slipping, even if the shoes were flat and securely tied on her ankles with ribbons. Hawke was Andrastian and surely she wouldn’t have been feeling the stab and her mouth sour, and a deep sense of betrayal every time someone called her the Herald.

And yet, Hawke was kind and gentle. Hawke helped her during a formal dinner escaping the clutches of an overly-enthusiast Comtesse that kept talking and talking with Aisling about the latest fashion in Orlais -which Aisling knew nothing of and cared for even less. She appeared and charmed the Comtesse enough to let her slip the Inquisitor away. There was no blame, just solidarity between girls thrown in positions they never dreamed of having as children, that they were never prepared for.

“You’re so better than me, at this.” Aisling slipped out, tired of hiding it. She didn’t specify how she meant more than just the formal soirèe.

Maria stopped, right in front of the dais. The throne loomed over them, imposing and red. Aisling hated it and its spikes, and hated herself for having made the Champion frown like so at her.

“You’re good. It’s just all new, it was displacing for me as well the first times I was amongst nobles… And it was just Kirkwall and I was just serrah Hawke, before being the Champion. And I am Andrastian.” Maria told her, as convinced as she was before. “You’re doing great.”

Aisling felt even guiltier, and sorry for blaming her and for wishing their roles were reversed, even if for a minute. A smile of encouragement from the other woman, a gentle squeeze on her arm, and she was suddenly sure of what to do next, warmed up by the exchange and decided to make amend and show the other she was welcomed. She smiled at her, it was the first sincere smile of the evening, and nodded, in a silent thank you.

“I heard there was some urgent business in the Undercroft, I received word before the Comtesse blocked me.” She told her. “Would you like to join me, Champion?”

Her smile brightened, and lit her up. “I would be glad, Inquisitor.”

Aisling timidly slipped her arm to hook with Maria’s once again -she was happy to see that the woman answered readily to the gesture- and it was her turn to guide her towards the small side door. A look left and right just to see that they hadn’t all the eyes pointed on them, and they both slipped in the door, to meet with Dorian and Dagna, waiting for them down there with tiny sandwiches and a cake.

Maria revealed to be even better company than just in a boring soirèe you need saving for. Aisling felt the click, and all it took was a cospirational exchange of whispers in each other’s ears with Dorian, just for show and some flare, to have her invited for afternoon experiments. Particularly after Dorian struggled with a term in Tevene that he just couldn’t remind the translation of and Maria showed that she understood in his language.

And from there, all went into place, any bitterness was left in the far back of her head, casted away by how nice of a person Maria was and how refreshing it was to talk with her, and how she seemed to rely on touch as much as Aisling was.

From then, all their experiments were done in a trio, no more just a duo.

---

The Western Approach was, in spite of everything, the first time since Haven when Aisling felt really, truly in control and like she wasn’t a ruse in the role she covered.

It was considerably close to everything she was taught and knew, and she felt considerably more at home than she ever did since leaving her clan. The desert wasn’t the easiest environment to navigate, but it wasn’t her first time. Working over time to teach the others and give some much needed advices (convincing Varric that just going shirtless was not the wisest course of action, not if he didn’t want to become a roasted dwarf with how fair a skin he had was a feat by itself) didn’t feel like that much of a burden. She was happy -when she wasn’t stressing over a tell-tale lack of letters from a certain Commander she had revealed maybe the wrong anecdote to- and in her field, and finally she stopped feeling like a fish trying to climb a tree.

Having Maria there just added to her confidence, adding one friend more, and the one friend that she could communicate the best with, save Dorian. She really liked her, she was funny and charming, and having another person that was touchy-feely was a bliss.

In spite of the darkspawn, the Venatori and the varghests that sought them off even if Aisling guided them well out of the way to avoid them (she knew they were aggressive… She didn’t know how stubborn and insisting the creatures could actually be, following them until they engaged)… In spite of all that, she felt some respite.

That is, until they finally made their way to the Ritual Tower and met with Magister Erimond. He was so kind as to reveal his plan to them (Aisling looked at Dorian with a silent question in her eyes, but the Altus just shrugged and told her he had no idea why he had just spilled everything to them), and… And it was enough to leave the party with a chilling feeling about them, and crash the good morale that had formed in the past days.

They made camp in a chokehold not so distant, between old ruins watching over a minor canyon with a river on the bottom and a steep rocky formation. Easy to defense and easy to spot approaching enemies.

She was writing some reports to send back to Skyhold, sitting on the wicker matting that covered the floor of her tent. She had the luxury of having one for herself, which doubled as her sleeping spaces and war room. In her letter, she explained the situation in a code that Leliana taught her and that hopefully would have told just the Spymaster to accelerate the preparations and get the army there quicker than they initially had planned to, with no one else the wiser. All she had to do, now, was clean the area enough for the army to travel there safely… And hopefully, freeing the big fortress that loomed on the horizon to house the big bulk of the Inquisition forces. Her tent was growing considerably hotter and hotter as the sun travelled up in the sky, the light cloth shading the inside not enough to provide much freshness. Luckily enough, tho, she was a mage, and she was skilled with spells that dealt with weather and air.

So, she just concentrated and wove her hand mindlessly in the air, weaving a spell to keep the air inside the tent cooler, slowing down the tiniest particles that formed the air, just short of creating clouds. Definitely better. She sighed and kept on writing, biting the back of her quill in concentration thinking of the best way to word a sentence, and minding to keep her cursive as readable as possible.

Five minutes later, someone cleared their throat just outside.

It was Maria, something harsh in her expression that Aisling couldn’t quite place. She made space beside her, and let her sit with their back resting on the wooden frame of her cot. If both of them weren’t able to fall asleep, they may as well keep each other company. Particularly, Maria noted with a little resentment just for fun, if the Inquisitor’s tent was so fresh.

Aisling laughed and explained her the spell. It was nothing much, she said: she had always a knack for spells that meddled with air and the water within. That’s why she went for Storm spells, and it was really another way to bend that specialization. She explained how the air, if you concentrate enough to feel it, is but made of tiny, tiny particles that you can move and bend as you wish, drawing from the Fade. It’s all a matter of movement and drawing some fire and scattering its heath around when needed, or dragging out the Fade particles that were calmer and thus cooler. Dorian could surely explain the theory better, she told the other women: she was just good with the practice and on knowing how things work and how to make them work, but the one with actual explanation was the other science bro.

Maria didn’t seem to mind much, tho. Maybe it was the endless chattering Aisling always fell into when she talked about things she liked or was passionate about, maybe it was the gentler temperature of the room. Maybe it was, for both, finding a moment of breath and lightness after the punch in the guts that had been the Ritual tower and the battle that followed. Maybe it was that, but the moment, sitting there shoulder to shoulder, felt cozy and warm enough.

“I don’t know how you do it.” Aisling told her again, without the bitterness of the first time around.

“What, this time?”

“I think I would be running around screaming or just frozen in a corner, if I knew my brother could be sacrificed to call demons forth. It’s just…” She snorted, furrowing at her hand clenching on the wood. “… I know I am not exactly the right person to condemn magical experiments, but that… That is just wrong.”

A sigh from her left, and a head resting on her shoulder as the hand slipped in the crook of her elbow and rested there. It felt a request for comfort more than an offering for the same, this time.

“I’m here because of that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re helping and… Thank you.”

Aisling let the writing board and her letter down. She knew it was urgent and every hour that passed was precious… But she didn’t have it in her to prioritize politics and strategy to a friend in need. And that was what Maria had become in those weeks. A friend.

She bent her arm and rested the opposite hand on hers, making herself more comfortable, leaning ever so slightly towards the other to make her presence known and felt. It wasn’t the most comfortable position ever, but it was good enough for a nap, she thought. Se gently inclined her head to lean over Maria’s, as she would have done back in the clan. Her hair smelled really nice, she noticed.

“It’s going to be all right. We’ll save how many Wardens we can, I promise.”

“A hard task, with those trebuchets your Commander seemed so fond of in the last War Council.”

“Mh.” Aisling didn’t mind the bitterness. She never really questioned Cullen, and all that passed between them was that he treated her well.

But it was true that he had been excited -in a very composed and suppressed way- about the trebuchets they had been gifted by a wealthy Fereldan Arl. She rolled the idea in her head, back and forth, thinking about what she read about siege machines and trebuchets in one of the book he lent her. Thinking about how they worked and how could they come to meet different needs. After all, the real issue was that they were charged with rocks. Maybe something else, if launched at a speed that could be calculated, with some spells to affect just rocks and not people…

She poked Maria’s arm with a finger to catch her attention. The Champion, who was dozing off on her shoulder, opened her eyes with a humm of complaint.

“I think we can find a solution for that.”

---

“Watch out!!”

Came a voice from above the battlements, and before anyone could register what was happening, a big roundish sack of jute was falling down at full speed from up in the battlements of Griffon Wing’s Keep.

Soldiers and scout shouted and ran away to safety, and the only two people left in the close proximity of the upcoming boulder were the Inquisitor and the Champion, both looking up at their supposed incoming death, arm in arm and shading their eyes with their hands. A third figure was sitting in front of them, sitting on the ground. Someone screamed at them all to move.

But the two mages didn’t move, nor they met their fate.

With a loud, dull thud, the boulder collided on the sitting figure, seams tearing at the impact and letting out its content on the poor being that didn’t even try to move.

When the cloud of sand that the fall had sent flying deposited back down, all there was were two mages still at their spot, and a mound of a mixture of sand and other scraps of softer materials. Wood chips, some cabbages of cloth, loose feathers that shone purple in the golden hour scattered here and there, too big to belong to birds.

Cullen was awake and around the camp since too little to cope with whatever shenanigan they conjured this time, but nonetheless he approached them anyway, decided to be certain of what exactly was going on and why on earth they decided to throw stuff from the battlements on the head of a poor sould nonetheless. He never thought the day would have come when he would have missed the science bros when they were just two. At least the only damage they ever did was to themselves (and Solas, when they went flying on a cart with wheels), and to the carpet in the rotunda, which never really recovered after taking too much indoor rain and had to be substituted.

“What’s going on?” He asked to both women, who finally had let go of the other -whenever he saw them, they were always connected. Arm in arm, sitting close to each other, one resting her head over the other’s shoulder or napping on the other lap as the other read or wrote, Aisling braiding Maria’s hair. Not that he noticed, or that he was jealous of not having the same amount of attention from the elf, and for being the only one, apparently, that she was shy of touching.

However, they were finally separated, and rummaging through the debris, looking for something.

“We’re in the final phase of the new ammunition experiment.” Aisling reported, without looking up. “If we can just find Bonnie…”

“Bonnie?”

“Found her!” Maria declared, with too much cheer for a person who was hauling up from a mound of sand and wood chips a skeleton’s foot by its ankle.

Aisling whooped in joy and ran to help her unearthing what revealed itself to be a skeleton, not fully cleaned by the desert, which had been dressed with an armour. Between the two, they dragged it out and brought it sitting against the wall of the keep. Maria started to examine it, moving joint after joint and thoroughly examining the bones and the armour with a critical eye, as Aisling get back to digging, crouched down and using both hands. Noticing somehow she was still being stared at, she casted him a glance from below, smiled reassuringly and started to explain as she worked.

“We just need to make sure these will just stop the Wardens and prevent them to fight us any further, without killing them on the spot.”

“But it would be risk-”

“AH!” She exclaimed, lighting up as she pulled hard and extracted an helm from the sand, upside down. She righted it, shaking it to get rid of all the sand inside. “Yes it would be riskier, but…” She declared, turning the piece between her hand, squinting. “…We could save more lives that could be convinced to surrender. It will give us the time to come and ask them… And if they won’t, the killing blow would be easier to impart. Maybe not all of them are into the plan, and they need the chance to get out, don’t you think? Catch it.”

The helm was tossed at Cullen, who stopped it when it collided with his breastplate with a loud clang. He sighed, bringing the helm up and examining, turning slightly on his spot so he could catch more of the gold sunset light. It was bumped and indented on the top, where it was hit, and slipping a hand inside to touch the exact magnitude of the blow was easy enough. It gave him time to think and evaluate pros and cons.

“It’s damaged, but not enough for the skull to break.” He declared, begrudgingly as he still wasn’t fully convinced of the plan. “And it is a commendable aim, but I think that if you want the siege to go quick-”

“Curly’s right, the skull is not broken!” Maria declared, a smile in her voice, as she undid the buckles to Bonnie’s armour and started examining the bones inside. “And nothing else seems broken, the ribs are good.”

“A success with flying colours!” Aisling declared, raising up and patting sand away from her trousers, a big smile on her face as she approached Maria. “It’s a small scale experiment, but it bodes well, doesn’t it?”

“Considering that the Wardens hopefully will have some better armour than poor Bonnie did, I’d think so. Depending on where they fall, at least, but I think it’s the best we can do.”

“So? Did it work? Is Bonnie ok?” Came Dorian, running out from the Keep with Rylen at his side.

Cullen felt a headache coming, and he really, really missed when there were just two mad scientists to deal with… And when they weren’t helped by his second in command. Second in command to whom he launched a glare.

“Don’t look at me.” Rylen defended himself, raising his hands in surrender even if he was still grinning mischievously. “It was an order from the Inquisitor herself, and the Champion of Kirkwall.”

He groaned at him, in all reply, and returned to the bigger problem at hand, still clutching the helm in his hands without thinking much about the exact owner of said garment, and that it was on the head of a random skeleton they found… He didn’t want to know where they found it exactly, since when it had been there, and why they decided to give it a name. The trio of mages was crowding over the skeleton, conversing between them in a mix of Common and Tevene Maria adapted all too well to. Cullen somehow was sure that they just needed the army because they didn’t have enough time to take Adamant by themselves. Because he was very sure they could have, with enough time to guess a way to make the entrance door explode.

“You forgot a detail.” He interrupted them, and he was met by three pair of eyes that turned toward him, stopping abruptly to talk.

They were huddled so close together, Aisling hugging Maria’s hand and resting her chin on her shoulder and Dorian with a leg casually resting on Aisling’s shin, that when they turned they look more like a three-headed creature from a legend than a simple group of mages.

He cleared his throat.

“That projectile will be absolutely pointless against the bastions. We may as well throw just a bunch of feathers alone.”

The three-headed creature smiled at him, some more sarcastically, and one with more affection. Rylen snickered behind him, and Cullen could distinctly hear him muttering a “Oh, blissful innocence...”.

“Cullen… We’re not Circle mages.”

“I know, but-”

“But-” Maria interrupted him. “-We had a month here to experiment and to think about the problem outside schoolbooks. The big ruin filled with Darkspawn didn’t free itself, you see.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning-” Aisling turned to look at Dorian with a silent question in her eyes.

He considered it, twirling one of his moustaces in his fingers, concentrated.

“It’s still a little bit rough, I’d need to review the numbers a couple of times more and do a couple more trials before calling myself satisfied, but the calculations are correct. Yes, it’s doable, at least on paper. Hawke?”

“The scale we have here is not the most precise thing ever, but with a little approximation I can make it work, yes. If Aisling can attach her little weather enchantment to avoid the gas to spread…”

“Easy as pie, it’s just a couple of runes that won’t interact with the rest of the spell.”

Aisling smiled and turned to the Commander, a glint in her eyes still from above Hawke’s shoulder.

“… Meaning, that we can make the boulders explode on contact with stone, but be mostly harmless for living creatures. It still leaves the problem of the demons, but we’re not sure normal boulders could affect them anyway, so…” She shrugged. “It’s worth a trial, isn’t it? We have the mages to activate the projectiles, after all, it’s an easy and safe enough spell. And they will be way lighter to transport either.

It made sense. Not anything Cullen would have remotely considered, but it was true that they had the mages… And that the three of them had been using magic unsupervised for all their lives and nothing ever happened. It went against all his instincts, but he couldn’t find a way to counter the reasoning. Not if he wanted to savage his friendship with Aisling -and he wanted to, if he could. So, he just took a deep breath and nodded.

“I have one last question.”

Maria rolled her eyes, but Aisling was not phased.

“What is it?”

“Why Bonnie?”

A trio of snickers.

“Why, doesn’t they have the face of a Bonnie?” Dorian asked, moving the skull left and right.

“It’s in her bones!”

Aisling concluded, and all three had such a big smile that the joke for a minute sounded less freezing than it actually was.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #da fic #here lies the abyss #ficlet #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #maria hawke #dorian pavus #science bros #I am so nervous about this hahahahahahahaah #It was VERY fun! But THE PRESSURE #RIP Bonnie

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