#f!lavellan x cassandra

[cairaleighexe]

🗡️ who in the court can be trusted? 👁️

[free-heart-attacks]

THE CASSANDRA ROMANCE ☠️

[evaslimes]

some of my favourite screenshots from my 2nd inquisition playthrough

1. Post character creation. thank fuck he's not ugly!!

2. admiring his future gf

3. viv killed me with this line lmao

4. I pissed myself he looks ridiculous

5. Elf rights

6. thank fuck she's not ugly p.2 (I hate dai character creation pls someone turn the lights on)

7. adorable

8. starting to lose his mind in the fade (at least hawke looks cute)

9. cussing solas out in elvish

[broodwolf221]

dadwc prompts and info

listed ships are ones i enjoy, but feel free to request outside of them - so long as i've listed the characters as ones i can write

general info:

no character death

i prefer romantic or platonic

pls specify prompt list ur using

ot3/poly prompts welcome

general prompts:

rare/unusual words (mine, but feel rb/use it yourself!)

sentences

micro story (please send the word/phrase)

medieval/fantasy sentences

deep conversations

people who aren't used to kindness

vague prompts: eerie edition

quote prompts:

as said by cassandra pentaghast

as said by dorian pavus

as said by solas

as said by merrill

fluff/romance/smut prompts:

fluff

50 types of kisses

sleeping

cuddles and snuggles

smutfic (please send word/phrase)

angst/whump prompts:

what are you hiding from me?

eerie loneliness

heavy content (mine, but feel free to rb/use it yourself!)

patching up wounds

other prompts:

oc codex

fantasy setting

characters:

dai - solas | varric | cassandra | sera | dorian | the iron bull | cole | leliana | morrigan | cullen | josephine | calpernia | flemythal | renn | valta | ameridan | talena | harding

da2 - anders(justice) | fenris | merrill

dao - leliana | morrigan

arlathan - mythal | andruil | ghilan'nain

relationships (ot3+ are welcome!):

solas x (nessa | velari | atros | valyris | varric | cassandra | cullen | bull | dorian | calpernia | mythal* | andruil* | ghilan'nain*)

anders x fenris

cassandra x (varric | sera | leliana | solas)

dorian x (feydis | bull | solas)

morrigan x (halcor | leliana)

sera x (delwyn | dagna | cassandra)

cullen x (dimitra | solas | dorian)

ghilan'nain x (andruil* | solas*)

*messy/complicated ships, might end up in dead dove territory

major ocs:

nessa lavellan (f!rogue, solas)

velari lavellan (f!mage, solas)

atros shiral (m!rogue; city elf!inquisitor, solas)

delwyn lavellan (f!rogue, sera)

valyris lavellan (f!mage, solas)

developing ocs:

feydis lavellan (m!mage, ? maybe dorian)

yene adaar (f!mage, solas)

dimitra (non-inky, f!mage(/templar), cullen)

halcor brosca (m!rogue warden, morrigan then nathaniel)

less developed ocs:

yene adaar (female; mage; solas) yene is a driven vashoth who doesn't want anything to do with any of this, thank you very much. spends the early game looking for a way out but eventually realizes that because of the anchor, she's stuck here, at which point she starts making friends. planned solasmance bc i'm... immensely predictable. also he grows on her. this weird little elf guy who's obsessed with the fade and she's like. hm. i am charmed by the way u wax poetic about ur special interests.

halcor brosca (male; rogue; morrigan, then nathaniel) my canon warden, and someone i haven't written in many years but have been thinking about again recently. very rough around the edges, blunt, practical. has a terrible habit of diving headfirst into danger. he's enamored of magic and trust(ed?) morrigan 100% on everything magical - he also performed the ritual with her, so kieran is his son, although he never met him. afterwards during awakening canon he ended up with nathaniel - a surprise, especially since he didn't even know he was into men as well, but late nights talking around the fire slowly became more.

[midnightprelude]

8! and bonus points if you show a little snippet!

Which fic this year was most fun to write?

Probably Forbidden Petals which was a goofy little Cassandra x f!Lavellan ficlet where Cass is waxing poetic about a painting not realizing it’s supposed to be a picture of a lady’s bits.

“Why do you think the petals are forbidden?” Lyanna peered up at her, tilting her head to the side.

“Perhaps they are in the Queen’s garden.”

“Oh, do you think the Queen keeps a private garden, then?” Lyanna peered up at her curiously, biting her lip. “Keep all her precious petals from would-be pluckers?”

“Of course.” She had to remind herself that Lyanna had had limited exposure to royalty. “Every noble house has private gardens and greenhouses,” she explained patiently. “I daresay the Empress has quite a few that she keeps entirely to herself.”

“ Entirely .” Lyanna tutted, shaking her head. “Shems and their walls. You’d think they’d have learned by now that these things are far more fun with friends.”

[plisuu]

Prompt information for @dadrunkwriting, among other things :)

Please send the full prompt (not just a number!) and pairing or character in your ask!

This Week:

Connor x Cullen: Exes to Lovers For the Damaged Love Confessions Budding Romance Will They, Won't They Hozier Lyrics Connor x Solas: 100 Compliments 101 Ways to Say “I Love You” With Actions Hand Holding Soft & Sweet

Characters and Pairings:

My OCs:

Connor Trevelyan - Inquisitor, ex-templar, ex-tranquil, and mage. Connor is a generally stoic individual with a strong sense of duty. He has fairly anti-templar views that are muddled by his Chantry upbringing. He's a bit dry, a bit grumpy, full of angst and internal conflict, and a total softie under all the armor. Champion spec. Close friends with Solas, Vivienne, Josephine, and Cole. Cullen rivalry/romance. Hinge/V poly. Revalas Lavellan - Tal Vashoth and ex Ben-Hassarath, Revalas was raised under the Qun from infancy. After fleeing Seheron in a crisis of identity, he ended up in the Free Marches where he joined clan Lavellan and fully adopted Dalish beliefs. He works for the Inquisition as an agent under Leliana and never seems to take anything seriously. Reaver spec. Friends with the Chargers and Harding. Kitchen table poly.

Main OC Pairings:

Connor x Cullen - twin-flame, awkward idiots, rivals to begrudging co-workers to friends to lovers to exes to friends to lovers Connor x Solas - queerplatonic/romantic, deep emotional intimacy Connor x Bull - FWBs, kink-centric dynamic, "it's so complicated they outright refuse to think about the implications of their feelings" (it's not complicated, they're just stubborn) - Revalas x Bull - Two Tal-Vashoth walk into a bar but the bar is romantic feelings Revalas x Dorian - They're in looOOoOOoOoOooooove xoxo Revalas x Krem x Harding - If they're gonna get stuck on missions together all the time they may as well kiss about it

Other Pairings:

Cassandra x Solas Garrett Hawke x Cullen Garrett Hawke x Varric

Prompt Masterlist:

DA Inspired: Codex Entry prompts DA Inspired Dialogue prompts Angst: Angsty Poem Prompts Betrayal One-liners Dramatic and Protective Emotionally Charged For the Damaged Angst prompts Hidden Injury prompts Hit ‘Em Where it Hurts Angst Prompts I Said Sorry Protective prompts Secrets prompts Suspense prompts Fluff/Comfort/Love: 100 Compliments 100 Different Kisses 101 Ways to Say “I Love You” With Actions 21 I love You's Budding Romance Domestic Fluff prompts Enemies to Friends to Lovers Fluffy Dialogue prompts F. Scott Fitzgerald prompts Hand in Hand Hands and Touch Hand Holding Height-Difference prompts Intimacy prompts Little Domestic prompts Love Confessions More Kisses Noticing/Being Noticed Oblivious Idiots in Love Physical Intimacy Pillow Talk Pining prompts Soft & Sweet Sentence Starters Super Soft Intimacy Touches (both sfw & nsfw) Will They, Won’t They Smut: 100 Smut prompts NSFW prompts Whump (blanket tw: torture, abuse): 101 Quick Whump Prompts 30 Very Specific Whump Prompts Angry Whumpee Difficult Recovery Prompts Make Them Kneel (tw: graphic violence) Rethink What They Said Quotes Tarot Inspired Misc. Collections: 200 Writing prompts Hozier Lyrics Hozier Lyrics (Unreal Unearth) Micro-story starters Non-Verbal Prompts Random Sentence Starters A list of a list of prompts

[hipsterbrigadier]

I have a bad habit of restarting Inquisition, I think I’m going to have to make characters and align them to specific romances even if I don’t play them all. So I think this is how it’s going to go

M!Cadash x Dorian (Rogue)

F!Cadash x Sera (Warrior)

M!Adaar x Iron Bull (Mage)

F!Adaar x Blackwall (Rogue)

M!Lavellan x Cassandra (Rogue)

F!Lavellan x Solas (Mage)

M!Trevelyan x Josephine (Warrior)

F!Trevelyan x Cullen (Mage)

[jawsandbones]

I found you prompts: In a pool of your own blood for Cassandra Pentaghast and Female Warrior or Rouge Inquisitor

Sitting slumped against the rock, her chin at her chest, and the dagger is still in her hand. Dust and ash sweep through the grass, over rubble and the charred remains of the demons that once were. Her other dagger is discarded, lost among dead things. Things that were once held together by strange magic, bone and old leather. No longer. Cassandra crouches down very near her, putting her own sword aside. The arrows have pierced through her armor. Fletching made of forgotten feathers, shaft of the same bone and leather, strung by the same magic. Her hand briefly passes over them as she raises fingers to her chin, tips her face upwards.

Eyes slowly open, wavering as they long to remain closed. Vision blurry, taking time to come into focus. There’s a stain on Cassandra’s cheek, sweat on her brow. Such worry in the way she holds herself, concern in the frown of her mouth. Something sweeter, in her gaze, when Lavellan smiles at the sight of her. Relief in the drop of her shoulders, sudden slack given to stiff limb and straight back. Cassandra sighs softly but the worry still beats as sure as her heart. Wrapping her arm around Lavellan’s waist, the other pressed against her chest, around that arrow.

She helps her to her feet, Lavellan’s arm practically limp over her shoulders. “I knew you’d find me,” she says. Her steps are unsteady, and Cassandra dips for a moment, carrying her completely in her arms. Lavellan lets her head rest against the crook of her neck.

“You should not have gone off on your own,” Cassandra scolds. Another smile, as Lavellan closes her eyes once again. She can tell how carefully Cassandra is walking, how she plans her steps, her every move. Doing the utmost not to jostle her, not to cause her any further discomfort.

“Sorry Cass. Won’t happen again,” she says. Her only reply is a muffled, muted, noise, made of sheer disbelief. Vivienne’s hands are cooler than Cassandra’s, however softer. Cupping her face, and she knows she’s being scolded again, but this voice isn’t as clear to her. The cot is somehow less comfortable than Cassandra’s arms. She knows something is removing her armor, cutting around the arrow. All she really knows is that Cassandra is still beside her, brushing back the stray hair stuck to her forehead.

Her hands are calloused with the practice of weapons. Her touch isn’t as delicate, not quite so gentle, but Lavellan wouldn’t have it any other way. Vivienne’s magic is much the same as her hands. Icy and cool, frost in the ribs of her. Cassandra wraps a hand around the shaft of the arrow, pulls it free when she’s told. Lavellan cries out, reaches upwards, and Cassandra is there to catch her.

“Easy,” she says, in a voice meant for only her, “it is almost done. Easy. Lie still, liebling.” Her hand brushes back hair yet again. This time, it lingers. Fingers curling at her cheeks, palm warm and sure. Lavellan isn’t sure if she dreams it, but what a sweet dream it is, to have Cassandra’s lips pressed against hers.

[frecklef0x]

Thank you @cassandra-pentughasst for letting me draw the girls! Lavellan deserves a night off. 🌟

(If you’re interested in progress pics, check out my Patreon)

[cairaleighexe]

show me your thorns and i'll show you hands ready to bleed

[thecourierbabe]

it isn't often the leader of the reformed seekers and the ex-inquisitor get a moment to themselves, but they make the best of the time they do have.

@mooreaux making all my queer dreams come true 💖

[imakemywings]

Surprise Developments (Recalculating)

Chapter 1: Siobhan Reports to Fen’Harel

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Pairing: Past Solas/f!Lavellan

Characters: Solas, f!Lavellan, Vivienne, Cassandra Pentaghast, Josephine Montilyet

Summary: Based off this prompt from the @dapromptexchange. Amid the reports of his many agents, Solas gets a particularly interesting crumb from ears in Skyhold: it seems Inquisitor Lavellan is pregnant.

AO3 | Pillowfort

Next chapter >>>

________________________________________________________

Reporting directly to Fen’Harel was like taking a shot of straight lyrium—or so Siobhan imagined. The breathless racing of her heart at being in the same room with him felt far headier than anything she’d ingested before, even though he had told her at the start of this debriefing that she didn’t need to stand so straight and she certainly didn’t need to get onto her knees.

                “Yes, my lord,” she had replied in a high, breathy voice, feeling her heart stutter in her chest. She’d never in all her life seen an elf so finely armored in person. He looked like he’d stepped right out of one of grandma’s stories about Dalish Halamshiral, or Arlathan, and being framed by the tall, arching window behind the vast table on which he laid out his plans only added to the mystique. The bookshelves filled with secrets Siobhan didn’t know, the notes scratched out on parchment scattered around the map that took up much of the table…she had the sudden urge to pinch herself.

                “There’s no need for that either,” he told her, unease in his expression. “Finian tells me you have a report on the Inquisition.”

                “I do,” she agreed, and began. She had been contacted by Fen’Harel’s agents mere months after Corypheus’ ignominious defeat, and when she had agreed to join the cause, she had been shipped off to Skyhold to apply for a job. Quartermaster Morris had brought her on, as many were looking to depart with the primary work of the Inquisition done, and Siobhan had made every effort to get in touch with Inquisitor Lavellan herself. Here was where her ears were a boon—Inquisitor Lavellan supposedly loved the chance to bring her own into the Inquisition, and wished most fervently for their success. She had expected the inquisitor, she supposed, to be a more suspicious type. “I met the inquisitor a few months back.”

                Siobhan had told herself to be patient, but every day that passed with her no more than a nobody servant minding the halls frustrated her. There was no purpose to her being here if she was not close to Lavellan! But none of her scheming had gotten her into those hallowed quarters yet—not until she “chanced” to be around when the Inquisitor needed to carry a vast stack of books back to her room. After that, each little push into the inquisitor’s life was easier, until it was Siobhan that the Inquisitor looked for when she needed something.

                Even when his gaze wandered from her, Siobhan felt that Fen’Harel listened; he had brought her into this room to soak up all the knowledge he could from her, and he did not waste his resources. He paced behind the table, and drew his fingers along the smooth wood, some deep machinations at work in his mind that Siobhan could not fathom. Her mother had scoffed at the stories of old elven gods—what would she say now, to Siobhan standing before one?

                “So you are close to the inquisitor?” he asked.

                “Yes, my—yes. I see her every morning and every night, and she trusts me to run her letters to the rookery. Sometimes she tells me about her clan, and if I ask her for stories about the Inquisition, she gives them up.”

                Fen’Harel’s hand stilled on the table, his face drawing, like the close of curtains over a window. Then his stormy gray gaze snapped up to Siobhan’s, and she felt a shiver run up her back.

                “What stories does she tell?”

                “Oh, silly things, mostly,” Siobhan said, trying to keep a dismissive note from her voice. Fen’Harel seemed wary of the Inquisitor—he treated her like a rival, which Siobhan wasn’t sure was warranted. His power and cunning far outstripped hers; Siobhan did not foresee much trouble from the Inquisition—not when Fen’Harel and his agents were up to fighting form. “The time Sera nearly drove Commander Cullen mad by making the legs of his desk uneven; some noble that Lady Montilyet put in his place; the time some shem or another ended up spending an entire afternoon carving toys for some children in some village.” Siobhan could have told him the entire stories if he wanted them; her memory was sharp, which was part of why Finian trusted her with this assignment. “Nothing that really matters. I don’t think she likes talking about the serious stuff.”

                Slowly, Fen’Harel nodded, and seemed to pull himself from some distant place to be present with Siobhan again. Could he feel the press of the Veil? Siobhan had no idea what a mage of his power might be aware of as a matter of course.

                “And she does not mean to disband the Inquisition?”

                “Not yet,” Siobhan confirmed. Another nod—other agents had reported the same. “The talk among her folk is there’s clean-up still to be done. I think she just—”

                “Thank you,” Fen’Harel interrupted, and Siobhan fell silent at once. “Among her advisors—are they all still present?”

                “Sister Nightingale is going to be called off soon,” Siobhan said, as she had told Finian last month. “Everyone seems to be saying she’s going to be elected the next divine.”

                “Her or…” Fen’Harel’s gaze turned to the map spread out between them on the table, and although he moved nothing on it, Siobhan could see the pieces shifting and turning in his mind, testing first one strategy, then another, like a chess player trying to follow the possible chain reactions of each potential move. “And the others?”

                “Lady Montilyet, Commander Cullen, and Seeker Pentaghast are all still there,” she said. “Others come and go.” Frankly she wasn’t sure how important the others were. Sera had left just after Siobhan joined, gone galivanting off with her Red Jennys, and Thom Rainier had been sent to the Grey Wardens not long before that. There were a few others who kept Inquisitor Lavellan company, but none with the political weight of the advisory panel.

                “What about First Enchanter Vivienne, our so-called Madame de Fer?” Fen’Harel asked.

                Siobhan knew her—a human with a chilly stare, a proud jaw, and sharper observation than anyone ought to have. All Siobhan knew of Vivienne she knew from Lavellan herself, because she had never once managed to catch Vivienne in conversation with the inquisitor. The statuesque Orlesian mage would simply wait for Siobhan to leave, no matter how long it took her to finish whatever task she was pretending to do. It drove her to distraction, because Inquisitor Lavellan and Madame Vivienne spoke so often! She knew the Inquisitor trusted Vivienne, but it was apparent Vivienne did not trust her—though what she, a lowly elven servant, could have possibly done to earn the mistrust of this powerful human mage she hadn’t the slightest idea (that was what got her more than anything—she was so careful, and ought to be below the notice of anyone but her fellow servants, and yet somehow Madame Vivienne was put off her, as if she could sense Siobhan was not to be trusted).

                “She’s still there,” Siobhan confirmed grudgingly. “If she’s going to book it soon, I don’t know about it. She never talks around me. But she and Lavellan twitter away like birds. They spar together, too. If I can win her over, I’m sure I can hear some of what they say.”

                Fen’Harel gave a sharp exhale through his nose, almost like a snort.

                “I would not waste too much of my time with that,” he said. “Madame Vivienne is not the trusting sort. Certainly not as far as her reputation in Orlais is concerned.” Siobhan marveled at how much Fen’Harel knew personally. With his network of spies, he could have sat back and simply managed them, but he seemed to have encyclopedic knowledge of everything they told him. Then again, if he merely managed them, he would not accomplish nearly as much. 

                “What about Master Pavus?” Fen’Harel asked, plucking his quill from its rest to make a note on the parchment he had been working at when Siobhan was let in. “Has he had enough of the south yet?”

                “I think so,” Siobhan said. “He talks a lot with the Inquisitor too, but he never notices me. He’s planning on going back to Tevinter soon. He’s homesick and says he has business in Minrathous.”

                “The inquisitor is in agreement with that?”

                “Not really,” Siobhan said with a shrug. “She won’t keep him there. But she’s always asking him to stay ‘just a bit longer, Dorian.’ She’s managed to convince him this long, but he’s finally put his foot down, and she got weepy about it.” Imagine—the inquisitor, crying! “Says he wishes he could stay, but he can’t. Probably will keep in touch with her though—there was lots of hugging after that.”

                “I see.” More scratching on the parchment. “Lady Montilyet, she doesn’t think he should stay?”

                “The Inquisition is adjusting, she says,” Siobhan reported. “From a battle force to a peacekeeping force. They’re not beggars anymore, and they’ll have work for quite a long while with all the damage in Thedas what needs repairing. Only thing I’ve heard her say to Pavus about it is that Lavellan’ll miss him. Otherwise, she’s happy to buy him a ticket back home.”

                “Mm.” Fen’Harel straightened up and clasped his hands behind his back, surveying the map of Thedas in silence. Siobhan waited with him. It was always a marvel to her how calm and soft his voice was. The first time she heard the Dread Wolf speak, she had expected something savage, she supposed. Something deep and booming, reminiscent of a wolf’s guttural growl. But he had a gentle bearing. Not weak, but neither easily provoked. With this gentility, he persuaded his agents into sharing as much as they knew, as well as their ideas and speculations, so they felt almost that they worked with him, not for him.

                “There’s something else, my lord,” Siobhan said, holding her breath as soon as she spoke. Most masters did not care to hear the ideas of their servants—Siobhan had tasted the back of a hand before for it.

                “Yes?” Fen’Harel lifted his eyes to her face. 

                “I...I don’t know if it’s important to us really,” she said, “but it will change her attitude and she may…think differently about running the Inquisition. But I’m not sure yet; it’s early to tell.”

                “What is it?”

                Siobhan took a breath.

                “I think the inquisitor is going to have a baby.”

                Fen’Harel went wholly still, like an animal poised to leap. He didn’t even seem to breath, and Siobhan was sure of one thing: she had his attention (and so, her worst fear, that he would dismiss her theorizing as a foolish waste of time, was dispelled).

                “What makes you think that?” His voice was so low it was barely a whisper, and Siobhan almost leaned forward to try to hear better. “Are you certain? Has someone told you this?”

                “No, nobody said so. She seems peaky in the mornings though, and she sleeps later than usual,” Siobhan said. “I’ve seen lots of pregnant women in the alienage. There are just…things. She holds herself different. She walks different. If it’s true, she must have an idea. She hasn’t told anyone that I heard.” She waited for another question, but Fen’Harel said nothing else. With a sharp jerk of a movement, he turned away from the table and its map, and strode to the bookshelves, which he looked at, and did not touch. He paced back to the table, and then over to the shelves again.

                “You’re right, Siobhan,” he said. “This could change the way she approaches the Inquisition. Please keep an eye on it; I would like to know what else you can learn. Make sure you stay close to her. You are her maid and already she trusts you—make yourself her friend, and there is nothing she will keep from you. I would like you to report directly to me, going forward,” he added, turning to face her with that placid, coaxing voice that sounded like Siobhan could well turn him down if she chose. “I will speak with Finian, if that’s well with you.”

                “Yes, of course, my lord!” Siobhan bobbed her head. “I would be so grateful!” Excitement burst in her chest like the crush of a fresh grape on her tongue. Reporting directly to the Dread Wolf! Perhaps someday she would tell Finian what to do!

                “Good. Thank you, Siobhan. You may go. Send Finian in, please.”

                Siobhan bowed and curtseyed and backed out of the office, and could barely stop herself from clicking her heels as she skipped down the hall to where Finian was writing correspondence.

                “Lord Fen’Harel wants to see you,” she said, jerking her thumb in the direction of the office, unable to stop the grin from pulling at her face, making the splash of freckles across the middle of her face wink, and showing a wonky lower row of teeth, and canines pointed more in than down.

                “What’s that look for?” he asked, setting his quill down with a faint frown.

                “I’m to report directly to Fen’Harel now,” she said, not bothering to try to keep the smugness from her voice. Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply and carried on down the hall, her grin spreading from ear-to-ear. Make friends with the inquisitor—that shouldn’t be too hard to do, and how Fen’Harel would reward her!

[cassandra-pentughasst]

Ghosts.

Something a little Halloweeny for the girls because Ellana’s birthday is the Thedas equivalent of Halloween. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Travellers tell of an old abandoned house in a dark and lonely wood. Some say that the house isn’t there. Not really. That it appears to lost and lonely travellers on dark and stormy nights. Others say that it's a broken shell of weathered boards and broken windows. However, it appeared travellers all agreed on one thing. It should be avoided at all costs. Or, if one’s misfortune was dire enough the house would allow you to stay until the first grey streaks of dawn appeared over the horizon. But if you remained when the morning light crept across the cracked and splintered threshold that was where you would stay. Some travellers thought it foolishness, a local legend to keep quiet paths undisturbed. Others heeded the words, days added to their journeys to avoid the place - out of both fear and respect. Every year a few reckless souls took the legend as a challenge. And every year they were never seen again. Though one traveller tells of their time there with fondness. Tells of an old house in a sun-dappled wood, their only company the wind and the birds as they made their way through the quiet landscape. It was chance that they stopped there. A late afternoon autumn storm saw them finding shelter from angry leaves and cold rain. For them, they say, though large the house was quiet and welcoming. The feeling of someone just having left lingers in the air, along with the smell of tea and something they can’t quite name.  Despite the storm that rages outside there was a cosiness within those walls. Though by all appearances it looked like no one was home, fire was burning happily in the hearth, and the unfamiliar smell seemed to linger in the plush armchair they sat in to rest their road-weary feet. A small book rests beside them on a spindly-legged table. Curious, the traveller reaches for the smooth black leather spine, in the hopes of seeing the name. Before they can catch a glimpse of the title they’re interrupted, their hand hovering over the book when they hear a voice. “What are you doing?”  The traveller freezes. “You shouldn’t be here,” the voice tells them impatiently. Now the traveller had seen many things in their time, and compared to most they would consider themselves to be unfazed by most things that they come across in their line of work. But, that isn’t to say that the traveller was unmoveable.  They rise, to greet the voice and apologise for imposing on their hospitality, only to be caught by surprise at the sight before them. Perhaps, the traveller thinks, the woman before them is the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen. Perhaps it is hard to say. Perhaps, they will spend the rest of their life comparing all others that they meet to them. They don’t know. “This is trite,” Cassandra huffs looking up from the page that she is reading “Varric has almost outdone himself.” “It's sweet,” Ellana laughs softly, gazing at Cassandra affectionately. The weight of her warm, comfortable against her thigh. Like so many nights before Cassandra found herself anchored to the lounge in front of the fireplace, warmed by both flame and the body that rested against her. Reading until she felt Ellana grow heavy, finally asleep despite fighting her tiredness to spend one last moment with her before the responsibilities of tomorrow dragged her away. “‘The Traveller’?” Cassandra groans “Who are they? What are they doing.” “Oh hush vhenan,” Ellana smiles, her eyes sparkling with mirth.  Cassandra rolls her eyes with a snort, finding the place where she left off and continuing to read.  The woman is pale, like the shadow of a moon, with silvery hair that coils around her shoulders. She is small, but there is no mistaking her presence. There is a familiarity that surprises the traveller, something about her feels like they’ve met her before. And maybe they have. But surely they would remember meeting such a woman. But maybe not, considering the tales that lingered about this place. “You shouldn’t be here,” the woman speaks again, this time with more force. “My apologies,” The traveller begins. “I only seek shelter from the storm, forgive me for imposing.” “She speaks,” the woman murmurs, looking at the traveller curiously. As she reads Cassandra finds herself being drawn into the story. A travelling warrior seeking shelter from the storm. A lonely ghost trapped in a house in the woods, cursed to not know peace. The tales are more a defence than a truth. The last wish of a woman gone before her time, burned in the name of a god she didn’t believe in for a crime she didn’t commit. She feels her eyes burn at the thought of love found too late. Lovers that were destined to meet before the cruel hand of fate intervened. Maybe it didn’t matter? Maybe what mattered was that despite everything they met at all. For the ghost the moment of happiness was enough. It was the thing that they were missing, and now that they had found it they were free to pass on to whatever awaited them. But for their love, it was a burden. An ache they had to live with for the rest of their days, knowing that nothing could ever compare. Not really. But despite this there was hope. That eventually the two could - would - be reunited. Somehow Varric managed to weave a bittersweet story that pierced something deep within Cassandra’s heart. Not that she would ever tell him such. It was bad enough she ‘owed’ him after convincing him to write the story in the first place. And she suspected he only did it because of both his fondness of Ellana and his desire to poke and prod at her every chance that he got. At some point Ellana has fallen asleep, her small form heavy as Cassandra marks her page and shuts the book quietly trying not to wake her. It's a testament to how many times she’s done it that Cassandra can lift Ellana without stirring her from her sleep. Or maybe it was because of how tired Ellana always seemed to be these days. Once settled under the sheets and blankets Ellana seems to gravitate towards her even in rest, and Cassandra shifts in the darkness to meet her, tangling her limbs with hers.  “Love you,” Ellana mumbles half awake against her throat. “Happy birthday my love,” Cassandra breathes into the darkness, drawing her closer with a kiss, hoping that if she held her close enough she could keep the ghosts that haunt them at bay. 

[midnightprelude]

@oftachancer and I put together another piece for @14daysdalovers​!

Pairing: Cassandra x F!Lavellan Rating: T Summary: Of course her first meeting with Cassandra's family would involve Lyanna Lavellan, three months pregnant, scaling the face of a wall. It was only natural.Not that she wasn't up for the challenge, but she had hoped not to meet Anthony Pentaghast while she was red-faced and sweating. Oh well. Read here on on AO3!

“I already like you better than the last four,” Anthony grinned, managing the ropes of Cassandra’s safety harness as she climbed higher. “I doubt any of them would have made it past the first incline, even before… How many months along are you now?”

“Three,” she sniffed. Did she look that large already? Creators, she felt like it. “I’m tenacious.” Her muscles burned and her shin smarted where she’d smashed against a foothold, but she had made it to the top of the ledge where Cassandra’s brother was beaming. As gorgeous as his sister, sculpted muscle from head to toe, his tee shirt clinging to his chest like- She dropped her gaze to where Cassandra was scaling, smiling down at her when she chanced to look up. “I’m glad, for your sake, you didn’t try to tell me I couldn’t.”

He was quicker to laugh than his sister, tiny lines about his eyes showing that he did so often. “I’d have missed all the swearing. What a shame that would have been.”

“Would you, now?” Lyanna smirked, adjusting her harness now that she was again on solid ground. She caught her hand traveling reflexively towards her belly and stretched it over her head. “I’m sure you would’ve heard a few curses if you attempted to stop me.”

“I know better. I couldn’t prevent Cassie from standing in her saddle. I can’t stop any woman from doing anything.”

“She’s taught you well, then.” Lyanna rolled her eyes on a chuckle. “Cassie, hm?”

“Yes.” Anthony checked the lines. “To both.” He glanced at her with a wry smile. “I’ll admit, when she told me she was seeing a ‘Lyanna’, I had a different image in my mind. Claw-nails and leopard print and high heels.”

“Not a pregnant elf?” Lyanna quirked a brow. “What about my name makes you think of claws and heels, do tell?”

“I guess I was thinking of most of the other power suits in our firm. Lots of claws and heels.” He grinned. “She said you were a red head and it got me thinking of- Well. Anyway. You seem a decent sort.”

“Got a thing for redheads, is it? I’ll have to let Cassie know.”

“Trust me, she knows,” he chuckled. “We mostly only had each other for a long time; it’s possible we know too much about each other. Do you have siblings?”

“No, but I’ve got quite a few cousins, and one in particular who knows much more than he probably should. He’s in a band. Catharsis? They’ve been in the news lately.”

“Yes! The instigators .” Anthony grinned. “I do love when flames are fanned. Powerful people do such ridiculous things to try and put them out, and leave themselves open to all sorts of interesting case law.”

“She said you’d say something like that,” Lyanna smirked, taking a swig from a bottle of water. Creators, she was going to be sore. “That you like hunting dragons. Would you take on the Imperium, if you had a case?”

“If I thought one could be won, certainly. So far, they’ve been cagey, but I see their sweat beginning to make the pavement slippery. It’s only a matter of time.” Anthony smiled lazily, flashing white teeth in a sharp smile. “But that’s business and I promised my little sister that I would take the afternoon off.”

“And she’s getting closer and closer to earshot, so we’d best watch ourselves.” Lyanna chuckled, leaning against the fake wall of rock behind them that extended nearly up to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Maker, no!” Anthony winked at her. “She might cut me off from the borscht. Had she made you her borscht? It’s exactly as mother used to make it. I’ve no idea how she manages. We have the exact same recipe.”

“She has.” A few times, in fact. “Folate is good for the babies, she says. Makes the kitchen look a bit like a murder scene with all the beets, but there’s hardly any denying her when she puts her mind to something. She made four gallons, once, and sent a good portion home with me. Cassandra is under the impression I don’t eat nearly enough.”

“She likes to take care of people. It’s easier to let her.” He smiled fondly down the rock face where his sister was dangling from her fingertips, searching for a toehold. “It sounds as though you’ve figured that out.”

“Took some time.” Heat rose to Lyanna’s cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to be cared for; she’d been alone and independent for so long that she hardly knew how to accept Cassandra’s offerings without distrust and scorn. Nobody was that selfless. Except, amazingly, Cassandra Pentaghast. “But I did. Yes. She does have that quality.”

“She never knew our parents, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Not really. But she’s far more like them than she has a right to be. She’s a good kid.” He glanced at her, lifting a brow, seeing too much. “You get that, too. I like you.”

“Do I get a badge?” Lyanna tilted her head to the side. “Or a stamp? ‘Free to date Cassandra Pentaghast.’ I’ll stick it to my laptop so there’s no confusion.”

“Unfortunately not. Just my appreciation that you seem to see her as she is.” He shrugged. “Should I dislike you on principle?”

“I was under the impression that elder brothers tend to be very protective of their younger sisters’ hearts.” Lyanna sniffed, smiling slightly. She had been a trifle worried about his acceptance and had told Cassandra as much, but she’d waved it off. ‘Anthony is Anthony; he only cares that I’m happy. I very much am.’ “I’m relieved you think so. Did she tell you she carried me out of a construction site? I was more annoyed that I couldn’t walk on my own than grateful at first; I was certain she wanted something from me.”

Anthony chuckled. “She didn’t, but that sounds like her; I’ll have to pry the tale from her now.” He looked over the ledge. “Almost there!” he called encouragingly and received a disgruntled huff in reply. “Unless you want to tell me,” he glanced at Lyanna with a quick grin. “It’ll probably be a better story coming from you.”

“Oh, I’d rather not recount that particular tale.” Heat flooded Lyanna’s cheeks. An embarrassing tumble into a construction site she’d been protesting, followed by a broken ankle and a positive pregnancy test from a fling. “I’m sure she’d do it justice.” Cassandra was nearly at the top of the climb, thank the Creators; hopefully she’d arrive before Lyanna was dragged into a retelling.

Anthony quirked a brow at her, smiling lazily. “As you will.”

Cassandra puffed her cheeks, dragging herself up the last inches and pulling herself to sprawl on the mid-point landing at their feet. She reached for Lyanna’s fingers, brushing them with her own, dusting chalk between them.

Lyanna laughed, helping her up and wrapping her arms around Cassandra’s waist. “For a moment there, you looked like you very much wanted to toss us off the ledge! Congratulations.” She kissed Cassandra’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I missed you.”

Spectacular: the feel of her cheek curving in an answering grin and the ragged exhales of her breath against Lyanna’s ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you,” the words sprung to her lips, but this time they didn’t make her twinge with anxiety at the sound of them in her voice as they had before. A simple truth, simply spoken, the statement muffled nearly completely when Cassandra tugged her closer and kissed her in earnest until they were both panting again.

[untaintedtea]

They’ve always shared a tent, but they didn’t always like each other... 

(this is pre-relationship when Cassandra is still confused about her Feelings and Leithianel’s too scared to do anything other than stare at her back all day) 

[thereinafter-art]

Very important Inquisition business.

(looks better if you click for full size)