#m!inquisitor/leliana

[edens-system-paradise]

Yes. YES WE DO.

PLEASE.

[herald-divine-hell]

She's so small with Amayian's height mod. I just want him to pick her up and give her a small peck to the lips or one on her forehead. Was that too much to ask, BioWare?

[sovaharbor]

honestly the worst thing abt this tho is that as much as i am attached to that worldstate i KNOW i cannot use it in da4 because ive just. wriggled my claws in so deep and for inqusition especially there is sooo much i've changed bc the writing in inquisition drives me BONKERS. so like. i just know whatever they say in da4 i am probably just inherently going to hate, so i NEED to work on a new worldstate (and i am actively attempting to) but ..... guh. effort.

[buttsonthebeach]

Anywhere But Home

Back to writing Solavellan angst and it feels so goooood

Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas (past); Marian Hawke x Merrill (past)

Rating: M for Mature - sexual themes and images

Triggers and Spoilers: Hawke is lost in the Fade; spoilers for Tevinter Nights

Summary: Nine years post-Trespasser, Ellana tries her best to move on.

His name was Varlan and Ellana hadn't seen him since the summer before she became Inquisitor, and when she slept with him, what she was really doing was slipping into an old self to see if it still fit, like the person she had been that summer was an old pair of trousers in the back of a drawer. She'd just forgotten about her. She could try her on again.

He wasn't an Inquisition agent - because of course she couldn't even dream of sleeping with any of them. And he wasn't some hero worshipper fascinated with the myth of her - because every one of them that had approached her since she became Inquisitor made her skin crawl. He wasn't a nobleman whose aims and ends she couldn't trust.

He was just Varlan of Clan Alvar, and they happened to be at the same inn, each passing through on their way to somewhere else. Her to Kirkwall. Him back to his clan.

“Ellana?”

And it was probably the fact that he said her name. It startled her at first - she was tying up her horse at the hitching post and he was just passing by, her hood was still mostly up, she was traveling alone, she was so used to being called Inquisitor or my lady. But then she saw him, recognized him, and it felt good. Just Ellana.

Clan Lavellan and Clan Alvar were close, both Marcher clans that overlapped in their roaming a few times each year, making him one of those people she couldn't actually remember meeting for the first time. He'd just been there. They'd slept together twice before, the last time being that summer before she left for the Conclave, twelve years ago now. So she could know, after passing a flask of whiskey back once or twice while reminiscing about old times in the room she let, that he really wanted to sleep with her for old time's sake and nothing more. She didn't take him up there with that intention - not really - but when it happened, she wasn't sorry.

Dorian had been after her about it anyway. Leliana, too. Gentle at first as the years went on and then more direct, he can't have been that good of a lay morphing into it's been 5 years and you deserve happiness, you know. Ellana, don't you think it's time to…? Maybe this would appease them.

And the first kiss did take her breath away. Not because she was in love with Varlan but because it had been nine years now since someone kissed her. His skin on her skin was exhilarating and too much - she kept her shirt on the whole time, and so did he. And gods it did feel good, it did, the weight of him -

“I'm clean,” he murmured. “If you wanted to…?”

“Me too,” she said, and it hurt even though it shouldn't. She knew she was clean because it had been eleven years since she lay with anyone. “I do.”

“Do you take a brew or should I…?”

That question hurt the worst somehow. She had just turned 39. And there was a part of her that wanted to lie, to not take her brew after he left (because he would leave), because she was getting older, and maybe this was her last chance -

“I do, but maybe to be extra safe…?”

“Of course.”

And gods it was good to feel him move in her, it was familiar, the roll of her hips and the delicious tension in her muscles and yes, it was her first time doing this since the loss of her left arm, but she could almost ignore that. Could almost pretend it was summer, an open field, stars above, and she was just herself. She'd go back to the circle of aravels after this. Restring her bow. Breathe in the woodsmoke. Hunt in the morning.

“I'm glad the gods brought us back together,” he said before he left. “And that they have kept you safe.”

She was sure he didn't intend the words to be cruel. But Halamshiral’s hallways echoed in her mind all the time now, and instantly she analyzed it. He did not ask about the vallaslin. She considered it a blessing. Perhaps he knew? Word had spread through the clans. But he still believed in the gods, still thought they kept her safe. So he knew and still believed?

Why was he conveniently at the same inn as her, at the same time, why had the conversation gone so easily, why had they slipped so easily into old familiar ways?

She banished the thoughts. It was fine. This was fine. She had moved on. She could move on. She carried on to Kirkwall, got settled in to her estate, had dinner with Merrill. Tried to stay in the same skin she'd found briefly with Varlan. Back to Ellana, just Ellana.

“About time!” Dorian said when she called. “Now, perhaps Mae and I can start finding someone eligible for you here in Tevinter. Make me a list and you know we'll make it so. I already have a house picked out for you in the countryside near my villa.”

His words were so bright and so brittle they might snap if he forced himself to be any cheerier. Ellana let out a dry laugh, tried to come up with a witty reply, and found her throat closed. What did she want?

“So I can't just move in alone? Varric gave me a whole house and a key to his city without insisting I have a partner.”

The crystal crackled. She thought maybe she heard a sigh.

“Of course not. Shall I send you the contract? Right after I get this bill passed about elves being able to own property of course.”

“Ah yes, that pesky little thing. Tell me how that's been going.”

“Oh, my friend,” Merrill said that night when Ellana recounted the conversation. How she had not even been able to make a list of what she might want in a future partner. “I don't think I could, either.”

Because Merrill had spent the last eleven years waiting and longing, too.

But Ellana kept trying. What would she want? She looked around Merrill’s table whenever there was a group for dinner. Most of her friends were elves from Kirkwall's alienage. Ellana had always envisioned herself with a fellow elf - but that was when she was young and living with her clan, so of course she assumed she'd bond to someone Dalish. Did that have to be true now? She'd always been with men. Did that have to be true now?

She tried to feel a sense of wonder and possibility. She was arguably the most privileged elf in Thedas, with money, power, and connections in every country. She could envision whatever life she wanted for herself.

The sense of wonder never came.

But Charter did. Back from a teahouse in Hunter Fell, after months of searching and gathering information and coordinating a meeting between spies of every conceivable faction.

“I have news of the idol,” she said. “If you wanted to go get Mistress Hawke.”

She and Merrill both perched, tense, through Charter's tale. It confirmed much of what they had suspected. It was back in the Dread Wolf's hands. That was how Charter referred to him the whole time. Merrill interjected occasionally and called him Fen'Harel. Ellana pretended it was all a story.

“One figure comforting another,” Merrill murmured. “Mythal comforting Fen'Harel himself, if his tales of being her right hand are to be believed? I am more certain now than ever that it was a tool of Arlathan that was blighted, like my eluvian. Perhaps related like the arulin'holm, something used in rituals of creation, lyrium stored directly within to power the spells? One of the implements he used to create the Veil? I never laid hands on it myself. I didn't go into the Deep Roads with Marian, and the fight with Meredith - it was not my focus. I wish I'd had time to see it, study it…”

“That window has certainly closed,” Charter said, shifting her weight, settling into a stance, like she was expecting a blow. “Solas assured me of that.”

Ellana stood.

“He what?”

And then Charter told the end of the tale. The moment she realized the Orlesian bard was not Orlesian at all. How only she and Solas walked out of that room.

The untouched tea.

Her mind circled that detail over and over again until she could smell the fresh plaster in the rotunda, hear the caws of Leliana's ravens, feel the warmth of a hand on her back -

“So he still doesn't like tea?” She finally managed, when she realized Merrill and Charter were staring.

“No, my lady,” Charter said, lowering her eyes.

Ellana hated Charter suddenly. She'd been in the room with Solas. Close enough to touch. She'd heard his voice. Did he look well? Did he look tired? Did he -

“And - Inquisitor, he told me to tell you - that he is sorry.”

It was meant to be a mercy but it felt like a deathblow. Like bleeding out, lungs collapsing, praying there was a healer nearby, eyesight fading.

“Thank you, Charter. That will be all for tonight.”

He is sorry?

“Lethallan,” Merrill said, and let the word hang in the air.

“It’s fine, Merill. You should go.”

“Lethallan.”

He is sorry?

She couldn't talk about this with Merrill. Couldn't ask the woman whose wife she’d left to die to comfort her because the man who willingly left her had sent her a message via a spy, and it was that he was sorry, but he was still going to rip the world asunder.

“Tomorrow. Let's hike to the summit of Sundermount.” The words came from someone else who happened to have Ellana's own voice.

Merrill left. Ellana sat down. She took a breath, then another. She closed her eyes.

He is sorry.

And suddenly, he was in the room with her: Solas Solas Solas Solas. So close she could touch him. She could see him, the sadness in his eyes, hear the hitch in his quiet voice.

Tell the Inquisitor - I am sorry.

Varlan had been on top of her, in her, fingers in her hair, and he was not as real to her then as that image of Solas was now. As she sat there, choking on the unfairness of his words.

He was sorry, but he was still gone. And she was never going to be the same again without him. All the Varlans in the world couldn't change that. All it would take was one word, one dream, to bring her back to the way he looked at her, the way he shook his head, kissed her again. To come, while the music plays, dance with me.

Ellana went to bed and allowed herself to imagine that Solas was down the hall, painting. That she had called for him already, sleepily, that he said he'd be there in a moment. That right when she was on the edge of sleep, he slid into bed, threaded an arm around her waist, and kissed her. He would be warm, solid, large behind her, but he would melt into her too, lean his weight against her - each of them leaning on each other, sheltering each other. And as she imagined it, she felt it - wonder. Bright as midday sun.

She woke alone, flecks of red in her smalls warning her that soon another chance would be gone (even though Varlan had pulled out and she had taken her brew because she knew, knew she couldn't be a mother now, not now, not without him). She went downstairs, saw the letters that had arrived overnight, all addressed to the Herald and the Inquisitor. The final reminder that, Solas or no, there was no way back to that summer field twelve years ago. The world had destroyed Ellana Lavellan and raised up something else instead. Harding said it in the Frostback Basin. Once you are more than a person to someone, you're also less than a person to them. So there was only forward. Deep breath in, out again. Just keep going.

Merrill was already at her door, bags packed, ready for the long day. Smiling even though her eyes were sad. The path up Sundermount felt longer, Ellana's footsteps heavier than usual. She could go anywhere she wanted but home, could have her choice of lovers but not the man she loved. Everyone knew her name but she hardly knew herself anymore, some days.

But then they were at the summit, looking out over Kirkwall and the sea, and if her footsteps didn't feel any lighter, she at least felt equal to their weight again.

“Varric will want to know about the idol,” Merrill said at last.

“Yes. I'll go see him tomorrow. I think he'll be even more involved now that we know for sure Solas has it. It will be even more personal.”

“You are his friend. It has been personal from the beginning.”

Ellana sighed. There were ships out on the sea. What if Solas was on one of them?

“I wish it was only about duty. Only about serving Thedas. For all of us.”

“Would you really wish that you had never met Solas? Never loved him?”

I felt the world change.

“No.”

“It's a good thing he is sorry. That means there is hope.”

A bitter laugh rose in Ellana's throat but she swallowed it down. Hope was a meager thing to live on, year in and year out. But Merrill knew that better than anyone.

“Yes. There is hope.”

They sat up there, breathing hope in and out together, and then they carried it back with them to Kirkwall.

[shift-shaping]

devour

solas takes enaste to the fade. poor decisions are made.

rating: m

pairing: solavellan

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6

To shape the Fade into a form Enaste would recognize was no small task, but Solas needed her to feel comfortable for her first exploration of it. Her half-bare feet crunched on the gravel road leading into Haven. She looked around her, transfixed by the sights and sounds of his recreation. The smell of fire, pine, and cold filled the air. He heard the distant shrieks of magpies, the cutting winter wind, the braying of a mule. The village of Haven breathed to life around them, unharmed and whole.The illusion was complete, and would be stable as long as she did not panic.

"I'm pleased to see you were able to rest, Inquisitor." She turned slowly, taking it all in, and her warm green-brown eyes fell on him with a foggy, dim recognition.

"I..."

He approached her slowly, and she blinked in confusion. "Take your time. Do you recall where you are?" He kept his voice low and gentle. The ringing of an anvil caught her attention, and she shook her head suddenly, as if to clear her thoughts.

"This is Haven." She looked at him again. "I remember."

"Well done." He said it without any irony: it was good that she stabilized herself without his assistance, and the praise made her relax.

"Solas." His name on her lips made his heart stir. Had it always? Or was it the amplified emotions of the Fade? She looked up towards the chantry, eyes narrowing in the bright sunlight. "Why here?"

"Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you." He gestured up the steps, through the gate, and led her up the hill.

"Did we--'' She stopped for a moment, looking behind her, then shook her head again and looked at him. "Ir abelas. I feel... off."

"In what sense?"

"I..." Tempted as he was to help her, he did not. Learning to center her mind was vital if she wanted to continue this dream, and he’d already given her the training necessary to do so. "No." He smiled slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. "I'm alright. A lot happened here."

"Indeed." He led her through the chantry doors, into the dungeon below. In a dark room, lit by sparse candlelight, they stood before a set of chains bolted to the floor.

"I remember this room..." Her voice was more confident now, more solid. "Cassandra and Leliana interrogated me here. I was so confused. I... don't recall ever being so scared before." She looked at the chains in the center of the prison. "I had no idea why they were so angry with me, but I know what the Chantry thinks of my people." She blinked slowly. Her voice was pained. "I believed I would die here, probably painfully, and my clan would never know what happened."

"Yet you survived, lethallan." He had witnessed more of her imprisonment than she had, and it was better she not know all that was said about her.

"Thanks to you, as I understand." It had nearly been the opposite. He had intended to remove the anchor by any means necessary, even if she had to be sacrificed for it. Part of him still thought it the wiser choice. The rest of him felt nauseous even considering it, knowing now what a massive waste it would have been.

"I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor."

"Wasn't I out for days?" She looked at him with furrowed brows. "How long can it take to look at a mark on my hand?"

To look at the mark? Minutes. To decide whether he should try to remove it, or just kill her? Days. She did not need to know that, though, and it was not a thought he should linger on. "A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil? Longer than you might think. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing."

"I... am glad it wasn't boring, then."

"No. Quite the opposite. Cassandra suspected duplicity, and threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results."

Enaste smirked and rolled her eyes. "Cassandra's like that with everyone."

He barked a laugh. She was getting used to being here; he could feel her presence solidly beside him, and that she felt steady enough to make jokes was reassuring. "Come, there is more to discuss." He led her back outside, into the bright sunlight, under the eye of the swirling Breach high overhead. "You were never going to wake up. How could you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade." He stopped near the path towards the apothecary, where their view of the Breach was clear. "I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted were driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra... or she in me. I was ready to flee."

"To flee?" She cocked her head with interest. "After all that?"

"Without the promise of protection? And minimal likelihood of your recovery?"

"But where would you have gone? Rifts threaten the whole world. And you would have been on Cassandra's shit list forever, regardless."

He snorted, unused to her cursing in common. "'Shit list'?"

Enaste balked defensively. "Varric says it all the time."

"Ah. Ever the master at wordplay, our dwarven friend is." She frowned at him, but he could tell she was trying not to smile. Her eyes were alight, more green now in the light of the Breach --and just as entrancing. "I would have gone somewhere far away, where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me."

She let herself smile now, and even here, it disarmed him. "I’m glad you stayed."

He returned her smile. "I never said it was a good plan." He turned away from her, towards the Breach, and gestured towards it. "I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts."

"On your own?"

He nodded. "It may feel like a fool's errand now, but what other hope did we have?" She stepped closer to him, looking up at the Breach herself. "I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then..." He turned to her, and she looked down at her left palm. He lowered his voice. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." Their eyes met. He went on. "You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change."

She inhaled sharply. Unlike when they had actually lived in Haven, she wore the vest and pants that Josephine arranged for her as Inquisitor, clothing that would have been unsuitable for the valley's freezing winds. They were tight-fitting, and somewhat --revealing. He kept his eyes on her face, on her full lips and soft eyes and grey-streaked black hair, and held his wrist tightly behind his back. She tilted her head, her smirk subtler now. "Felt the whole world change?"

He returned her smile, and squeezed his left wrist tighter. "A figure of speech."

"Is that really... all it is?" She was close to him now, watching him, her gaze just as intense as when she'd asked him to her quarters, or when she told him she could choose to submit. She bit her lip. There was a scar on the left side of her mouth, sharp and deep. What would it feel like to run his thumb across it, across her lips?

"You change... everything." The words came out before he could stop them, but he didn't want to stop them. He wanted them to be false, and he was tired of lying to her. There needed to be some truth he could give her, even if she deserved so much more.

Her cheeks were flushed pink, but she shouldn't feel the cold here. "You're sweet, when you want to be," she said, and her voice was so soft and low.

He needed to end the dream.

Instead he felt her hand on his cheek, turning him to look at her. Then she pressed her warm, soft lips to his. Heat pulsed through his blood, chasing out whatever was in his mind, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

She pulled away, too quickly, and a single thought came roaring back: absolutely not. He grasped her by the arm and brought her lips back to his in a desperate kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, felt the slope of her back, the curve of her waist in his hands. His tongue traced her lower lip just as he'd imagined so many times before, and a sharp gasp escaped her. He tightened his hold, pulled her close to him, her chest pressed to his so that he felt the swell of her full breasts against his body. Her hands grasped at his sides, tugging on his shirt, as though she could somehow bring him even closer.

He wanted to devour her.

She opened her mouth to him and their tongues met, heat rushing in what little space could be found between their bodies. Another noise slipped from her: a quiet, breathy sound half-way between a moan and a gasp. He leaned her back and pushed his thigh between her legs, pressing into her, earning another shuddering inhale into his mouth. Again she grasped at him, fingers gripping his shirt, then opening to splay across his lower back.

He shifted, pressing his leg harder into the meet of her thighs, and a full-body shudder raced through her. He felt it, felt her, and even when he pulled back to catch his breath the only thought he had was how badly he wanted to feel her come undone. He shook his head, taking in her reddened face and the wash of color on her chest. She reached up to touch his cheek, and if he didn't return to her he suddenly felt he would melt into the floor.

He kissed her again, just as hungrily. Her hand stayed on his cheek, surprisingly gentle for how desperately she'd pulled at him before. It was almost a caress, moving from his cheek to the back of his neck again, sending shivers down his spine. Need pulsed in his core: need for her body, her touch, her. And now he knew with certainty that she needed him, too.

With a sudden and brutal clarity, his heart dropped like a stone.

He pulled back, hands raised as if to ward her away. She blinked at him, slightly dazed, hand still hovering where he was a heartbeat before. "We shouldn't," he sputtered. "It isn't right." He retreated further, putting more distance between them. "Not even here." It wasn't enough. This was a terrible mistake, and he had to end it now.

She looked around, still flushed, visibly confused. "This isn't real."

He smirked at her, appreciating the irony. "That's a matter of debate." He exhaled, determined to compose himself. "Perhaps best discussed after you wake up."

He forced her from the dream. It was all he could think to do. That meant she was awake, and would certainly come to find him in the waking world.

What was he thinking? She wasn't even supposed to exist --her world wasn't supposed to exist. It would be better to stop this now, to end it before it went too far.

Unless, of course, it had already gone too far. She trusted him, went out of her way to spend time with him, and he'd stood at her side for nearly all of her endeavors. Their relationship was already inappropriate in the eyes of some --he had overheard the rumors from their allies, and he knew she had as well.

The only ending to this was cruelty. The only difference was in degree. But the thought of what rejecting her now would do to her, of never having a meaningful conversation with her again, of ending her training just as she showed so much promise, was too much to bear. He was weak, and selfish, and one day he would beg her forgiveness. He just wanted to put that day off a little longer.

<- prev fic | next fic ->

[theheraldsrest]

Inq accidentally switching bodies with their LI? Don’t ask how it happens it just ~ does ~

“Inquisitor switching bodies with Romanced!Companions”

Hello again. I will continue to apologize for my absence. I’m slowly and surely getting through the asks, I promise. Let’s do body swap, bois!

-Lord Lex

Cullen

-WTF song playing in his head

-How did this happen? Why? Where’s his body? Everything feels weird. Someone help

-Not that pleased when he finds you trying to act like him to some very confused soldiers

-Even more confused when a very embarrassed Inquisitor pulls away a giggling Cullen

-When explaining to Josey and Leliana, Leliana makes the comment “So that’s why the Inquisitor kept sticking out her chest and walking funny.” Both see this as an inconveniance and he’s just panic 

Josephine

-Not so much of a problem if she’s romanced by a femal Inquisitor. Might be more of a problem if male.

-Honestly sees no problem with it other than just explaining to people what had happened. Goes about her business as if nothing is wrong

-She’s had to explain so many times that it’s her and not you and no, she will not be answering any explicit questions

-Listen: If the body swap was because of something you did on purpose, she’s fully gonna get her payback by coming up to you in your body and acting all mushy-gushy

-She takes great care of your body and respects your privacy. However she also thinks it’s very neat to see things from your perspective. Andraste help the poor fool who insults you to her face.

Solas

-Oh the PANIC. He’s abso-fucking-lutely losing his shit over this because, for one, he’s in your body. How is he suppose to hold himself, moreless not make himself seem like a fool?

-Second, if he’s in your body, then that means you’re in his. What if you find out who he truly is? What if, in some way, you find out his connection to the orb? Oh no.

-His worries die down when he finds you just taking a stroll around the hold, happily greeting him, possibly slightly out of touch with the body you’re in. What was he worrying about?

-He follows you around just so you two can explain and work out what’s happening while also making sure nothing goes wrong.

-You almost got away with a few jokes before he stepped in. Especially when he found you talking to Sera about all the things you could do as Solas while also being disgusted. (Ew, magic man body. Get out of there)

Cassandra

-She sits there for a solid hour, not knowing what to do and afraid of making any mistake as you. 

-She doesn’t even want to try to get dressed as it would be inappropriate (even though she’s probably seen you naked before) but does so with her eyes closed. Yeaaah, it’s…interesting

-Eventually you find her in your room simply pacing and convince her to leave because there is stuff to do. She is horrified at the thought but also concerned on how you’ll act as her

-Also sticks to you while walking around and realizing people are talking to her when addressing the Inquisitor. The advisors find it very funny, she does not

-Please make corny jokes, it helps her relax and also laugh about it. But not around people. She doesn’t want anyone to hear Cassandra Pentaghast making goofy jokes

The Iron Bull

-Honestly? It takes him a god damn minute to realize. Even if you’re far shorter than him. Goes about his morning up until he’s actually drinking his first ale of the day does he stop and think “Wait…”

-This a great inconvenience but also an oppurtunity. He gets to know you even better and see things from your eyes. Also get’s to explore your-

-But it’s inconvenient since he doesn’t have his size, his strength, his horns. Even if you’re another qunari, it’s still the same. You don’t have his horns. It’s personnal to him

-It’s annoying for him when the dignitaries come to bother him, looking for your input and he simply points them in the direction of his body. If this doesn’t stop, he’s gonna cause a diplomatic problem

-But dear gods above is it so funny watching you try to manage his body, running into doorways, struggling to get around trees, hitting your head off light fixtures. Welcome to his world

(Extra: Chargers lose it over this and mess with you both, including Krem. They’re the main reason a lot of diplomats and nobles keep bothering him. They also keep petting Bull’s body’s pecs. They say it’s for good luck or it’s tradition. It is not.)

Dorian

-When you find your body, it’s chilling in Dorian’s usual spot and looking quite groomed. If that wasn’t a big hint, a simple “Ah, I was wondering where you were at. Having a delightful day?” gave it away

-Dorian see’s this as a big oppurtunity to expand on your closet and to replace your junk books. Also to scare a few people

-Don’t worry, he’s not going to do anything to injure your pride or reputation, but some people do wonder why the Inquisitor suddenly has an air of sass to them

-Does get a little upset that his poor self is being treated to the Inquisitor style, but it’s a little charming. He knows you’re trying and treating his body well.

-Both of you forget that you’re in each others bodies that some people question why it’s Dorian acting all lovey dovey. His reputation will never be healed (he doesn’t mind)

Sera

-Oh no. You’d be panicing. If you’re in Sera’s body then…oh no.

-True enough, you find yourself on one of the tables, declaring “I’m the Inquisitor and I think your hat looks stupid. Burn it!” to one of the nobles. You can very much hear her accent in your voice

-It’s well aware to everyone that you two switched bodies. No one can match Sera’s chaotic energy that well and the supposive “Inquisitor” was doing a grand job

-She has to be confined to your room to stop her from causing anymore problems. Josephine is already dealing with the nobles who have voiced their complaints about being told to “fuck off, ya twits”

-But, oh no, Sera is also mad at you. How dare you try to make her look nice and styled and *gasp* clean?! The audacity!

Blackwall 

-This man’s first thought, when he wakes up, is not about the room nor about the bed he’s in. No, it’s “When did I get tits?”

-The next second is just him feeling indecent and perverted. How did this happen? He has no idea, but he’s piling shirt upon shirt on to cover your body.

-Goes looking for you-or him-his body? Which ever, it hurts his brain too much. Finds you hanging out by the barn also trying to figure out what’s going on

-Is one of the only people in this situation (other than Solas) that makes it a top priority to switch back by any means necessary. Doesn’t want you to have to go through what he usually does on a daily basis, with the glares and such

-Goes as far as asking Solas and Vivienne for help. And if that doesn’t work and only as a last resort will he go to Dorian, who will never let Blackwall live this down.

[theluckywizard]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Ohhh thank you for asking me 🥰

Fic Author Self Rec!

Tagging @crackinglamb, @monocytogenes, @blarrghe, @melisusthewee and @the-rebel-archivist

I will open with my SUPER RARE PAIR FIC

Love at First Fight

M!Cousland/F!Trevelyan. Rated T. WC 5,962 Summary: 9:25 Dragon. Years before he became the Hero of Ferelden, Aedan Cousland competes in the Tantervale Grand Tourney melee final against a surprising opponent: fierce, sharp-witted, and unmistakably talented Marie Trevelyan of Ostwick. And he can’t help but feel a little bit smitten when she clobbers him. Lucky for him, there's a banquet afterward.

This is an OC exchange fic I wrote for Windwalker57. Aedan Cousland and Marie Trevelyan are both his OCs! It's a charming tidbit of backstory that I had a blast expanding on. It's full of flirting and banter and tournament fighting (and tavern brawling) that I researched to death. Guest appearances by Nathaniel Howe and Thom Rainier!

Rumors

M!Hawke/F!Trevelyan. Rated T. WC 2,189

Summary: Returned to Skyhold from Crestwood, Hawke's been dogged the whole way back by rumors about the nature of his relationship with Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan. His old friend Leliana wants to know what his game is.

This is a companion fic to my longfic In the Shattering of Things, but it's one I'm super proud of. It's a delicious peek into the larger I've created, into the POV of my charming, romantic, silly Garrett Hawke who's fallen for my Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan. I loved capturing the dynamic between him and Leliana with all the history between them and this moment where he needs to decide if he's going to settle for the way things are or tell Rose how he feels. It's a favorite of mine!

Unvarnished

Blackwall/F!Trevelyan, Rated E. WC 3,648

Summary: The Herald of Andraste disappears up to the lake for a swim on the hottest day of spring in the Hinterlands. Blackwall supposes he'd better make sure she isn't prey to bandits or demons and finds himself searching the lake for her in a panic.

Clinging undergarments and more proximity than they've ever had sparks an unexpected blaze between them and unleashes parts of Blackwall he thought he'd long buried...

I wrote this fic on a whim when a friend of mine told me there was a shortage of Inquisitor/Blackwall fics 😅 I was not expecting to enjoy writing in Blackwall's POV as much as I did but BOY HOWDY. I did. If you're a Blackwall appreciator, I would humbly recommend it!

Some Kind of Witchcraft

Cullen/F!Trevelyan, Rated E. WC 2,214

Summary: Inquisitor Rose Trevelyan is away clearing rifts along Sulcher's pass but she leaves plenty of reminders behind for Cullen to find while she's gone... and after she returns!

OK, I can't not include some Cullen stuff. This piece is just darling. It captures the really playful dynamic between Cullen and Rose, and honestly playful banter and joyful smut is my bread and butter.

annnnd laaastly my long fic! It's still a WIP, but updated regularly.

In the Shattering of Things

F!Trevelyan/Cullen, F!Trevelyan/M!Hawke, Rated E, WC 417,309

Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

OK. This has devoured my brain for a year and a half now and I am *still* trucking. hmmm what can I say about it? It's really my exploration of what it's like to find yourself and try to love others when the world is falling apart at the seams-- and it's up to you to hold it all together. It's messy. People behave suboptimally. Love sprouts in unexpected places. My protags: ROSE. MY CHILD. Importantly she's a 'rogue' Inquisitor (she'd lol at the idea that she's a rogue though). She's funny, plucky, doing her best. I think she's extremely relatable. She screws up. She's got a fight instinct that far outstrips her combat capabilities. Her victories are hard earned and often costly. But I think she's a character that my readers love to root for. CULLEN (well. everyone knows Cullen). I just love this man. I write him as a man who was recruited to do one job and then whoopsed his way into a much bigger one and he is OWNING it. But I adore Rose and Cullen both rising to the occasion together. And I love writing him learning how to want things for himself.

HAWKE. My goofy king. He barrels into Skyhold like a wrecking ball. An affable, devilishly charming, romantic one who is eager to help fix the chaos he unwittingly unleashed. He's got such a big brother personality and he's a wonderful mentor and companion for Rose who is really just figuring shit out. Heart of gold with an ocean of pain underneath.

ok and a BONUS one that is unpublished, but I will link my tag for it since there are tons of snippets of it. It's my WIP.

Kiss Me Moonstruck

I'm about 35k deep right now, but it's a matchmaking fic set during Satinalia in DA:2, Act 2 where Leandra Hawke and Alsatia Trevelyan conspire to fix up their children Garrett and Rose who emphatically do not want to be fixed up. It's a romantic comedy romp and I am super proud of it. It's a great fish out of water examination of Kirkwall through Rose (it's in both her POV and Garrett's) and is packed with class commentary. I can't wait to publish it!

[fereldanwench]

started thinking about what worldstate i wanna create for my first run in veilguard because of course i have.

we can't import past saves and we won't be using the keep anymore, so I'm not sure how detailed we'll be able to get with it but I've got a few possibilities to play with:

the first and most likely is my mostly canon-compliant worldstate with these bbs:

lorelei cousland [rogue; double-wield] warden / queen of ferelden / li: king!alistair

daphne caron [rogue; double-wield] warden commander / ruler of vigil's keep / li: warden!bethany

ansley hawke [warrior; board & sword] champion of kirkwall / pirate / li: isabela

melisande trevelyan [rogue; archer] herald of andraste / inquisitor / li: cullen

rosalind hendry [mage; knight-enchanter] former chantry scholar / inquisition agent for leliana / li: blackwall

the second is my slightly less canon-compliant worldstate that i never brought into inquisition because i didn't want to have to choose between alistair and my favorite hawke in the fade lmao:

karina amell [mage; i do not remember her spec] warden-commander / li: warden!alistair

rhiannon hawke [force & elemental mage] champion of kirkwall / temp viscount of kirkwall / li: cullen or fenris*

*last summer i did replay da2 with an iteration of rhiannon that actually romanced fenris and i loved it and I've complicated shit for her, lmao. rhiannon x cullen were my goro x valerie of 2013-2014 and making her officially with someone else feels wrong bc i loved them together so much. but i just can't enjoy cullen anymore. so do i do i give rhiannon a boyfriend upgrade? do i make a whole 'nother hawke inspired by her? do i just let rhiannon x cullen and rhiannon x fenris exist in different AUs? i don't know!

and the third is kind of the opposite of the second one: a worldstate i made just for inquisition in the keep with some choices i had never made in the previous games. i don't even have the worldstate in the keep anymore so i don't remember everything but i think it was like this:

default f!mahariel [rogue; archer] no li / recruited loghain / made alistair marry anora

default m!hawke [mage] li: anders / sided with mages

keagan trevelyan [mage; knight-enchanter] herald of andraste / inquisitor / li: cullen (although i headcanoned a polycule with her, cullen, and josie)

one of my conundrums with all of these is, as i mentioned, i can't enjoy cullen anymore. he was obviously a big fave, i think his arc is fascinating especially in da2 and especially if you side with the templars and he has to contend with the shit he's done for meredith, and i enjoyed all the different shipping dynamics with all different kinds of ocs. but i can't separate him from his dipshit VA at this point. hearing his voice is just an instant NOPE for me now

i am 99% positive cullen will not be in veilguard for 2 reasons: 1) the writers said during inquisition that they were no longer trying to work in characters whose fates could be too varied depending on player choice and 2) that twitter shitstorm a few years seemed to guarantee ellis will never work with bioware again lmao

now i suppose there's a possibility that ellis could have recorded lines before that happened and somehow they would be able to be used despite all the changes that happened, but I'm trying to be an optimist here

nevertheless, all of the inquisitors i played were with him, and it sounds like we'll be able to engage with our inquisitors in some capacity in veilguard so do i even want to have a passing mention of cullen? idk. i mean, my disdain for his VA isn't so bad that this would ruin the game for me or anything, but i also feel like this is an opportunity to enjoy another character

between keagan and melisande, melisande was definitely my more developed OC, but i just loved playing as a knight-enchanter gameplay-wise so keagan is actually the only one of the two who did trespasser and jaws of hakkon. i never did the descent--the only DLC in all the games that i haven't played. I've been debating firing up my inquisitor!valerie game again to play that with her but i know the descent recommends a pretty high level and i can't remember how far i got in the story with her (I think i just reached skyhold that last time i played)

so anyway, i've got some decisions to make!

as for what i'm leaning towards playing in veilguard: at this point in time, i'm pretty sure my first rook will be a mage of some kind and lucanis sounds like he was made specifically for me lmao so odds are looking good that'll be my first ship

[crackinglamb]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age - All Media Types

Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age) ,Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Solas|Fen'Harel, Rogue Inquisitor, Varric Tethras, Cassandra Pentaghast, Vivienne (Dragon Age), Sera (Dragon Age), Gereon Alexius, Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull (Dragon Age), Blackwall (Dragon Age), Leliana (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford, Josephine Montilyet, Lace Harding, Cole (Dragon Age), Sky Watcher (Dragon Age), Wisdom (Dragon Age), Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Male Mahariel (Dragon Age), Morrigan (Dragon Age), Ameridan (Dragon Age), Felassan (Dragon Age)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Modern Girl in Thedas, not a self-insert, Non-Canon Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Diary/Journal, Alcohol, Swearing, Snark, Pining, Emotional Slow Burn, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Solas Being Solas (Dragon Age), Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, NOW WITH VISUALS, Pro-Elf, Pro-Mage, Anti-Orlais

COMPLETE!

Chapter 152 - Leaving, Leading, Living

“Will I move on? Will I go home?”

“I cannot answer that for you. Spirits do not die like mortals. Where one energy ends, another begins. Shall I stay with you for a while?”

“If you like.” There was no time, no measurable beat, either of her heart or the pulse of the earth. But Wisdom being with her made it all right. Made it companionable. She could feel her now, her presence like a hug, like a hand holding hers. So light, so insubstantial. But so present. She didn’t want to let go. “I'm not ready.”

“We rarely are, da'len.”

DAFF Crew Tags

@warpedlegacy, @rakshadow, @rosella-writes, @effelants, @bluewren, @breninarthur, @ar-lath-ma-cully, @dreadfutures, @ir0n-angel, @theluckywizard, @nirikeehan, @exalted-dawn-drabbles, @oxygenforthewicked, @mogwaei, @melisusthewee, @blarrghe, @agentkatie

[elderwisp]

YOU LIKE DRAGON AGE??? TASTE!!!! do u have any info about your protags up (and would u like to share some if not 👉👈) another wisp w fr

GOD YES! Such a beautiful game with characters that have rich storylines! I've replayed DA:I so much just because of the feeling it gave me exploring each region and unlocking everyone's backstory! I did some digging around in the old DA Tapestry as well as pulled up some screenshots! The only pictures I couldn't find were from DA2 so that's from the Wiki 💀

DA: Origins: For Origins, I played as an elf mage named Warden Neira. Her romance was Leliana after breaking things off with Alistair. Alistair became king. Uhm, sad news, bestie didn't make it. 😗😗😗 It's weird because this game was super enjoyable for me but I remember it the least. I think I was overloaded by each decision and quests that everything became a bit fuzzy! I'd love to replay it again, I like the idea of different intros based off class and race so it felt very immersive!

DA: 2 I played as a rouge for Marian Hawke and romanced Fenris. It was my first time playing a rouge in the DA series but after knowing how being a mage and romancing Fenris brings up different dialogue, I've always been curious! I did uh,m, k*ll Anders after the whole debacle. I just- After like processing everything I was like DUDE!! Isabela stayed with us while Bethany became a grey warden. I actually loved the romance in this game, especially the intensity of Fenris colliding with a sarcastic Hawke LIKE THAT WALL PIN WAS EVERYHTING-

DA: I Inquisitor Thalionelle specialized as a Knight-Enchanter. Ok so this was the first game I played, so a lot of the decisions I made, I look back and SCREAM! I took the route of Champions of the Just. In Here Lies the Abyss, Hawke was left in the fade... (I absolutely hated myself after play DA: 2 I WAS LIKE U BASTARD!!) In What Pride Had Wrought, Morrigan drank into the well. Cassandra became divine. The wardens rebuilt annnnnd I declared for the Inquisition but we disbanded after Trespasser. I was friends with every companion and completed each quest. (Iron Bull didn't try to kill me in Trespasser, thank glorb!) Hmm so romances, because it was my first time, I didn't progress them in a linear sense. So I romanced Blackwall first but then I broke things off and stayed friends. Then there was Solas and I was like pfft, what could come from this? He practically hates me- Anyways bro literally ripped my heart and ran off with my arm!

[anneapocalypse]

Dragon Age Femslash Recs!

Happy Femslash February! I got thrown off the rec wagon the past couple months for Life Reasons but I'm back and I've got a whole pile for you.

Ordered from shortest to longest. If there are other ships, I have noted those as well. Ratings and major warnings are listed; as always, please check AO3 for the full tag list.

These Moments Given by Mytha. Cassandra/Leliana, 1200 words, rated T. The Left and Right Hand take comfort in one another after the explosion at the Conclave. This fic really brings to life the terrible events we don't see in the game.

Vulnerability by @ziskandra. Isabela/Female Hawke, 1200 words, rated E. Hawke and Isabela deal with the aftermath of the Qunari invasion in their own way. I love how this explores Hawke's insecurities and fear of losing those she loves, lots of complicated emotions and uncertainties.

Right Hand by @ziskandra. Female Trevelyan/Cassandra, 1400 words, rated T. The Inquisitor works to adjust to her disability and a new role at the side of the Divine. I like the way it explores some complicated feelings on the part of Trevelyan about ability and agency.

Coin Tricks by @chocochipbiscuit. Isabela/Merrill, 2200 words, rated G. Merrill and Isabela talk about luck, carrying it with you and making your own. Choco writes both characters and their dynamic so, so well and it's a delight to read.

Arcane Deflection by @settiai. Harding/Dagna, 2600 words, rated T. This charming fic explores a growing relationship between Harding and Dagna while also digging into Harding's inner life and experiences in the Inquisition in ways I love.

Aeducan Pride by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold. Rica/Female Aeducan, Rica/Bhelan, 2900 words, rated M. Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, power differences, dubious consent. Sereda Aeducan takes everything from her brother: the crown, his son, his plans, and finally, his wife. My favorite thing about this fic is Rica, her cunning and shrewdness and her focus on keeping herself and her son alive, and I also really enjoyed how a conniving and manipulative Sereda not only keeps Rica close but gains her affections as well.

Close at Hand, Friend and Foe by Cryptographic_Delurk. Anora/Cauthrien, 3000 words, rated T. A sharp and incisive character study Anora as well a story as two very different women fleeing the kingdom that has cast them aside. I really enjoyed the tension between Anora and Cauthrien as they struggle to find common ground.

bound up by your thread by @chocochipbiscuit. Isabela/Female Hawke, 3400 words, rated E. Some good old bondage, an old favorite of mine! and Hawke not having to make decisions just for a little while.

Birdsong by @montpahrnah. Isabela/Female Hawke, 6000 words, rated M. Warnings: Major Character Death. Isabela struggles to come to terms with Hawke's death in the Fade. An incredible, moving exploration of grief I'm not ashamed to say I ugly-cried my way through.

Her Beacon and Her Shield by Sheeana. Female Cousland/Anora, 8500 words, rated T. Political marriage to lovers, a trope I adore! I loved watching Anora and Elissa's foundational respect for one another as allies progress to fondness and affection. A bittersweet conclusion, yet with a sense of hope.

Dinner Time series by @fireferns. Dalish/Skinner, six short fics totalling 18000 words, ratings G through E. I love the author's prose style, and the loving attention to both these minor characters, developing their personalities and backstories; a truly wonderful read.

Happy Femslash February, friends, and happy reading! 💜

[broodwolf221]

dadwc prompts and info

general info:

no character death

i prefer romantic or platonic

pls specify prompt list ur using

ot3/poly prompts welcome

platonic or solo prompts also welcome

au:

the dread scapegoat: in this au setup, dirthamen is the dread wolf, but solas takes on the mantle to protect him; he also carries much of the burden. but it is more about a rebellion brewing within the evanuris rather than one enacted from outside it

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:

ocs - nessa lavellan | velari lavellan | atros shiral | delwyn lavellan | valyris lavellan | halcor brosca | feydis lavellan | liall talas

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 | morrigan | calpernia | mythal* | andruil* | ghilan'nain*)

anders x fenris

cassandra x (varric | sera | leliana | solas)

dorian x (feydis | bull | solas)

morrigan x (halcor | leliana | solas)

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)

liall talas (f!mage, dalish, warden, no romance)

feydis lavellan (m!mage, dorian)

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

halcor brosca (m!rogue, morrigan then nate)

quick oc info:

nessa - soft, stubborn af, has a daughter with solas, peaceful family life, insomuch as it can be

velari - complicated, guilt-ridden, kinky, power couple

atros - so complicated, loads of trauma, volatile, passionate about justice, on solas' side no matter what

delwyn - young, silly, grows a lot, balanced, ends up becoming a very good leader, all in for sera

valyris - older, reserved, contemplative, quick judgements but willing to reassess, non-magic healer (healer has the bloodiest hands), leads from a distance bc she's scared of caring

liall - body horror warden who's into it, macabre and morbid, curiosity as a character flaw

feydis - steady, passionate, righteous fury but very, very deep inside him, quick, dry wit

dimitra - self-sufficient, guarded, expected to become a templar but magic manifested, ended up in the circle, so many confrontations with her assumptions that she couldn't possibly count them all

halcor - rough around the edges, a bit ends justify the means, good at heart but doesn't lose sleep over bad choices, matter of fact, heart eyes about magic

[atomically99]

not to expose one of my other special interests, but specialshipping dragon age inquisition au while i am (im)patiently waiting for veilguard news

as is per all my aus i create in my head (i have a lot), yellow is of course the inquisitor. i see her as a rift mage lavellan. lavellan bc yellow being integrally connected to nature like the dalish are is important to her character. i see her as a mage for spirit healing and the fact she has legit powers in canon (telekinesis and such) and rift mage to represent her connection w pokemon as a connection to the fade/spirits.

red is definitely warrior. i see his character as a similar role to cullen. cullen is a seasoned templar who is a solid leader and trains troops (one can see green (m) in this role but this is a special au and not a feeling one lol). red is the de facto leader of the dex holders and that carries over. cullen and red’s physical trauma (lyrium addiction/withdrawal and paralysis of wrists and ankles) has a similar carry over.

in my mind, each gen would have one of each class (mage, rogue, or warrior)

i do think that the kanto quartet should serve as the inky and advisors but while i think blue could be good in leliana’s spymaster role, i don’t think green makes for a very good josephine. josephine is a diplomat who does all of the talking for the inquisition. i do think green would do good at this especially considering he is a public figure both as a dex holder and a gym leader. i think the personality difference is keeping me from really seeing it

i can see blue and silver as rogues. with blue as an artificer (traps and gadgets) and silver as an assassin. i could also see-story wise-them as apostates who fled the circle (led by pryce) and were on the run before the mage rebellion.

gold is def warrior and crystal i do see as a mage. i’m stealing this from dragon age 2 but crys would make a solid force mage. gold would likely be a champion.

i have kinda more abt the other gens but the one ill say is the lowkey equivalent of interpol for rakutsu would be the qun. he was raised in interpol and goes undercover for their interests. it has a similar energy

okay back to specialshipping, can you imagine the angst from this au?? in your heart shall burn??? adamant???? trespasser?????? there’s so much to choose from.

considering clan lavellan and kirkwall are both in the free marches, there could be a whole moment pre-inquisition where they meet. he could save her from a tal-vashoth attack. she could heal him after he deals with abominations or demons. and they meet again after the conclave, under stressful circumstances

is this clear and concise and makes sense? no, but i’ve been lore binging dragon age so i had to do it. if any of you spe and da fans have thoughts or just hate this, hit me up i wanna talle about dragon age

[ell-vellan]

4 & 8 for the da asks c:

Thaaanks! <3

DA:V asks

4. What does your worldstate look like going into DAV?

So, I actually need to figure this out, lol.

I have 2 main worldstates:

"Elfy": M!Mahariel/Zevran, Alistair rules alone, Morrigan has Kieran (via Mahariel), mage Hawke/Fenris, and Lavellan Inquisitor, siding with mages, with Leliana as Divine and Briala/Celene ruling together. I'm on the fence about whether this is also going to be my Solavellan worldstate or Lavellan/Iron Bull. I might decide after I learn some more. Obviously the romance is the most important thing to me lol

"Happily Ever After": F!Cousland/Alistair, both ruling Ferelden, Morrigan has Kieran (via Alistair), warrior Hawke/Anders, and...I haven't fully decided on this one yet. Possibly warrior m!Trevelyan/Dorian, siding with templars, with Cassandra as Divine and Gaspard/Briala ruling together just to be different.

(truthfully I like a m!Hawke/Anders/Fenric triad, and a m!Trevelyan/Dorian/Iron Bull triad, but idk if that's gonna come into play at all LOL)

8. Which faction are you most excited to learn more about?

Veil Jumpers, I think, because it seems like this might be an elfy thing and that's exciting. Or Shadow Dragons! I can't decide.

Thanks for asking!!

[hawkezone]

[[ RETURN TO HALAMSHIRAL - PART TWO ]]

A missing Queen Cousland, whispers of an elven rebellion, and one hell of a party: Hawke, Fenris, and Varric attend a lavish ball at the Winter Palace celebrating Empress Celene and Marquise Briala's alliance, where Hawke finds himself enlisted to help by a man with a strong Fereldan accent and a deep-seeded fear of swooping. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, sequel to The Seat of Power.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2]

♕

“Dorian?”

Angus, leaning over himself in the library under the rookery at Skyhold, muttered into the flipped-open sending crystal his boyfriend had given him. He should’ve attended the party. Why did he let Josephine talk him into staying behind? And Leliana had been rather keen on him staying at Skyhold, too. Angus had long ago begun to put two and two together about “the safety of the Inquisitor”, but he was starting to get lonely in Skyhold, all alone, this evening. Even Cullen had gone off to the party, or, possibly, given up in defeat and was drinking alone in his carriage waiting for everyone to go home.

Angus waited, hoping Dorian would be in a quiet enough place in the party to hear him through the crystal. He knew Dorian wore it around his neck everywhere they went without each other - if only so Dorian could update him on the assorted social and/or fashion disasters he encountered on his many trips back to Minrathous.

“Dorian? Doriannnn. Come onnnn.” Angus, uncharacteristically, whined into the crystal. Next to him were several empty miniature novelty bottles of Seheron dry, which he insisted he hadn’t drank all by himself, and half a glass of whiskey. The whiskey, of course, counted as dessert.

Meanwhile, back at Halamshiral, Dorian could hear a faint buzzing coming from the locket he wore around his neck, as he continued to prime Alistair for more information - and pump him full of more ale. Unfortunately, the ale was indeed dwarven and watered-down, which meant he’d have to feed him much more of the stuff to get to the juicy bits.

Holding a finger up to Alistair, who was mid-woeful-rant, Dorian flipped open the locket, and strained to hear Angus’s soft, Marcher accent over the loud hustle of the party.

“Yes, my dear amatus?” he greeted, over the crystal, holding the rest of it towards his ear, frowning at the background noise.

“....come home soon so I can tell you I miss you… …bet you look good in your formal coat.. ….osephine left so many of these bottles here for the guests, can you believe….”

Dorian sighed. He could barely hear a thing, although it seemed like Angus, at least, was keeping occupied.

“Amatus,” he repeated, holding the crystal closer to his lips. “I can see you’ve had a lot of fun without me, and I can’t wait to get back to Skyhold to see how my Inquisitor wants to handle his lack of handling, but - you’re never going to believe who I’m talking to right now.”

Alistair watched, as Dorian continued his conversation, one-sidedly.

“Yes. No, not you. I know I’m also talking to you, but - yes. Mm-hmm. You know, next time I’ll just ask Josephine to put some mixers in with the wine for you to slow it down. No, you’re rotten. You are. …. Keep that up and I’ll really have to leave the party early.”

Alistair narrowed his eyes and sighed again, in defeat, taking another swig from his ale as Dorian’s conversation took another turn.

“You know just how to push my buttons. All right. But no necromancy this time. We both thought it would be funny but it just ended up being unsavory.”

Alistair raised his eyebrows. Dorian, it seemed, finally remembered why he’d interrupted Angus in the first place.

“But you haven’t guessed who! Right, right. Remember the meeting you had back at Haven? Yes! I know! That’s what I asked him!”

Dorian clapped a hand over the crystal, and turned to Alistair. “Angus wants to know if you’ve found your missing wife yet.”

Alistair gave him the most despairing look yet. Dorian perked up.

“Right! Right. That’s what you were telling me.” He turned back to the crystal. “No, he hasn’t. And he’s asking us if we know where she’s gone. I know. I told him about Hawke going to Weisshaupt. He is? He has? He - is - are they all here? …I’m going to murder Varric.”

With that, Dorian clapped the crystal locket shut, and carefully slipped it back under his shirt.

Giving Alistair the slyest of smiles, he leaned coyly over the bartop.

“Today, I think, is your lucky day,” Dorian smiled.

Alistair felt himself involuntarily skip a beat. Whatever was coming was sure to be something big.

-

The lowly music of the single harp played through the open courtyard, the golden light of the strung-up candles glinting off the gold and augments of the gathered Orlesian nobles, craning their necks to get a good look at the plucky minstrel who was chiming classic folk tunes, her belting lighting up the entire garden.

Away from the huddled crowds, in a secluded cloister, were Hawke and Fenris - and only one of them seemed to be having any sort of a good time.

Clutching one of his many beignets he’d tucked away, Hawke smirked. “You think the words are the same in Orlesian?”

“What?”

“They could be saying anything, you know. I don’t speak Orlesian. I wager you don’t, either. They could be singing about how all Marchers are freeloading anarchist backwater pigs, for all I know.”

Fenris glanced sideways at Hawke, who was grinning. He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile back. “I doubt that.”

“That’s what I’d do,” Hawke said, breezily, waving a hand at the bard. “If I was supposed to be entertaining a bunch of jackasses all night, I’d definitely try to take the piss.”

“That’s why we don’t let you entertain,” Fenris smirked.

Inside, the orchestra was starting to begin its triumphant wailing, the music coursing through the echoing halls and out into the gardens, just faint enough to mix with the bard’s singing.

“They’ve begun the formalities,” Fenris muttered, barely able to contain his scowl. “If they’re not entertained at every turn, they’ll start to turn on each other.”

“I can understand that,” Hawke said, thoughtfully, face full of beignet. “If I were a noble, I’d want my attention grabbed at every second. No point being bored, I bet.”

“Hawke, you are a noble,” Fenris replied, a bit despairingly. “I must admit, I wonder if your enchantment over snacks and lute-playing won’t betray a more deep-seeded sense of entitlement in the future, judging by how all these Orlesian courtiers act.”

“Me? Entitled? Over a title? Don’t be silly, goose,” Hawke grinned, elbowing Fenris playfully in the side. Fenris didn’t quite scowl, but he didn’t quite grin back, either.

Looking to either side of him, Hawke’s grin widened. Fenris could see the gears clicking together in his head, in ways that made him slightly suspicious - and even more trepidatious.

“Fenris?” Hawke ventured, with a sideways grin. “Can I make up for the Chateau in another way?”

Fenris looked wary, but his expression betrayed his true sense of curiosity. After all, he wouldn’t have followed this idiotic lug of a man all the way here if it weren’t for his morbid sense of passion.

“Make up for it how, Hawke?”

Hawke grinned even wider, and bowed, deeply and theatrically, like a footman. He extended a half-gloved hand to Fenris, without stooping back up, and smiled.

“Would you accompany me to the ballroom floor, milord?” he grinned.

For a brief second, everything froze. Fenris felt his face crack a little, as time came to a whopping halt, and Hawke immediately sensed he had done Something. Not necessarily something wrong, mind you, but the world didn’t come screeching to a standstill with the worries of a thousand centuries plastered across your beloved’s face for nothing.

“Hawke,” Fenris ventured, his voice cracking, like the first jolt of dry lightning in a canyon wracked with drought.

Hawke looked up at him, perplexed, then, immediately, read the expression on his face, backtracking as fast as possible.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I didn’t -”

Fenris, as if coming out of a daze, shook his head, rather firmly. “No, no. It’s just - not with - there’s all these people, Hawke-”

“Wait. Wait. I have an idea.”

Hawke got that mischievous glint in his eye - the one that meant he was about to get them both into massive trouble.

“Hawke - what - ”

Pulling Fenris by the hand, Hawke led him down the hallway into the vestibule, through the halls of the public appartements and out into the garden, where even more various nobles had gathered, listening to the dulcet tones of one of Orlais’ most talented bards. For a moment, Hawke could have sworn it was Maryden Halliwell’s voice, singing in the Orlesian tongue, but he chalked it up to his time spent at Skyhold having taken quite a toll on him.

Tucking into a cloister to the side of the garden, just out of sight - and just in the shadows - for naught but the nosiest of nobles to be seen, Hawke let Fenris go, and placed his hands on his hips, looking rather pleased with himself.

Fenris, bemused, placed his own hands behind his back.

“Plans, Hawke?”

Hawke, with a flourish, took a great, theatrical bow. “Indeed, my dear,” he said, putting one arm behind his own back, and extending the other in a deep, dramatic gesture, offering his open palm to Fenris like a noble on the ballroom floor. Which, for all intents and purposes, he was.

Suppressing a laugh, Fenris cocked a smile at Hawke, who looked up at him - still stooped - through his brow.

“Well?” said Hawke, raising his eyebrows, and tottering a little. “I’m starting to get a little sore, here.”

Letting out an actual chuckle - or, to Fenris’s denial, an actual giggle - he placed his hand in Hawke’s, and Hawke raised himself back up to full height, romantically sweeping Fenris in towards him by the small of his back.

“Your hand goes on my shoulder, I think,” Hawke smiled, teasing, a little primly, but full of warmth. “Unless you don’t want me to lead. Which I always offer, but we know how things usually go,” Hawke winked.

Fenris, glancing away for a moment, braced himself. For a second, he flicked his eyes towards the gathered nobles, through the shadowed cloisters into the well-lit gardens, entranced by the lute-playing of the bard and the thick, scented air of the evening. They were so occupied with their own, brightly-lit world, that they scarcely - if at all - noticed Fenris and Hawke, hidden in the depths of the marbled shadows.

He looked back at Hawke, his eyes expectant.

“I’ve - I’ve never actually danced. With anyone. Before,” Fenris ended, somewhat lamely. He looked away again, but his hand was still firmly placed in Hawke’s.

Despite himself, Hawke burst out in a brief spurt of laughter. Fenris, annoyed, looked back at him, but Hawke was clearly gazing at him with the look he only reserved for the man he loved.

“What, never? Not even at a party? Not even as a joke?” Hawke went on, tucking Fenris in closer by the waist.

Fenris, getting more annoyed by the minute, sighed. “No. It’s not something I had time to do in Tevinter. At all.”

“And in Kirkwall?” asked Hawke, holding Fenris’s hand aloft.

“Kirkwall is not exactly the place that makes one want to dance,” Fenris said, bitterly. “Despite any claims.”

“No one ever asked you?”

“There’s never been such an occasion. And I doubt I’d want to dance with anyone. At all.”

Hawke pouted, a little comically. “Not even me?”

Fenris, finally looking back up, saw that Hawke was trying his damndest to cheer him up. And he couldn’t help but smile.

“...Perhaps you’re the exception.” Fenris flicked his eyes downward, then back up at Hawke, their verdance as clear as ever.  “….You’re always the exception.”

Smiling, Hawke finished pulling Fenris in, and, laying a hand on his arm, gently guided it towards his shoulder.

“I’m not a very good dancer, I’m afraid,” Hawke said, as Fenris lay his hand against Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke’s stubble - which he was very bad at shaving consistently - poked through the thin Orlesian cotton of his upcollared formal shirt.

“Would I have been able to tell?” Fenris replied, smirking, flirtatiously.

“No, probably not. I should just keep my mouth shut,” Hawke said, laughing.

“Don’t,” said Fenris, softly.

Slowly, smiling, Hawke, holding Fenris by the hand, stepped in a graceful circle - as gracefully as he could - as the bard continued her enchanting rhyme. In the shadows of the cloister, nobody could see the two, slowly revolving, like planets gathered around a burning star.

Fenris, trepidatiously, laid his head against Hawke’s chest, as they turned; Hawke immediately clutched him closer, lowering his own head so it tucked gently into his.

As the song wound to a close, Fenris found his head still resting on Hawke’s chest, and he could hear Hawke’s heart beating at a breakneck speed. His fingers wrapped around Hawke’s collar, as he could feel his breath, hot as the night air was cold, burning down Fenris’s own neck.

Hawke, still holding Fenris in one muscular arm, the other hand wandering its way back down towards Fenris’s waist, felt the elf press closely against him, the clink of his armored shoulders and arms rubbing up against the thick fabric of Hawke’s formal coat. Fenris pushed against him, pulling him closer, and as Hawke felt Fenris’s cold, gauntleted fingers close around his neck, he grabbed him even more firmly, crushing him against his chest and hips, feeling the elf open up underneath him as Fenris intensely pushed his body against his, pressing every inch of himself against Hawke’s, as Hawke nudged his knee between Fenris’ legs - both of the men like pendulums in an imminent swing - if either of them moved, even one inch further, the whole thing would come crashing down. 

Hawke, breathing heavily, scarcely dared to move Fenris from his position, lest he lose control completely and pin him to the ground, disgracing this entire social affair - and probably causing the fine bard singing in the garden to completely lose her footing.

“Hawke,” Fenris breathed, roughly, in Hawke’s ear.

Hawke felt his heart skip a beat.

Intensely, softly, without breaking eye contact, Fenris pushed one thumb against Hawke’s Adam’s apple, biting his lower lip. Hawke gulped, feeling Fenris’s fingers press against him, barely choking him, the pointed backs of his gauntlet scratching the back of Hawke’s neck as his hairs stood on end, and he stood at attention. He knew that, at any moment, he could break Fenris’s hold, sweep him up by the legs and pull them both against him, pull his head back and take control, let Fenris drive him to the wilderness of extinction. He hoped that Fenris wouldn’t think he was too uncouth for already planning lines about needing a lot of help with handling his oversized, two-handed warhammer, since that was Fenris’s specialty, after all.

Hawke locked eyes with him, and Fenris’s eyes glowed with an intensity that sent the usually confident Hawke into a venusian, cloudy-headed rabbit hole.

“Perhaps it is my turn to surprise you,” Fenris growled, with an insistent half smile.

Hawke, losing control entirely, pressed his face against Fenris’s, biting on Fenris’s lip before sending himself into a spiral, flicking the inside of Fenris’s mouth with his tongue, holding him in place with one arm while running the other up and down his back, then his side, then down the front of his hips.

“Wait,” Fenris breathed, his voice still guttural, putting a single finger to Hawke’s lips. “Not here.”

He held Hawke by the hand, this time, and pulled him towards the end of the cloister, where a latticed wall covered in nightblooms anchored the corner between the palace and the gardens proper.

Indicating the wall with his head, Fenris withdrew his finger from Hawke’s lips, smiling with an intense, mischievous grin. Letting Hawke go, he backed up into the lattice, where Hawke, cottoning on, began grinning himself, helping Fenris up and over the garden wall with a light foothold, making a step with his cupped hands.

Following him over the wall, Hawke paused for a moment, at the top of the wall; one foot in the party, the other imminently in the outer gardens - and examined the scene.

The whole of Halamshiral spread out before him, the excitement, the romance, the buzz of the party, the ham that tasted of despair, the tittering gossip of the nobles, the rampant fireflies and the clink-clink-splash of caprice coins being thrown in the fountain - all accented by the intoxicating scent of jasmines and Andraste’s Grace - and he sighed, with great contentment.

Truly, really, it did not get any better than this.

He looked back down, at Fenris, who was already playing with the top buttons of his guardsman’s jacket, giving Hawke the most smoldering look he could manage.

Hawke grinned. Perhaps the night had great potential, indeed, for getting even better.

[nelkenbabe]

WIP: Late Night Counsel

After months of Cullen working on his personal growth, Warden Everett Amell passes through Skyhold. As unbidden memories resurface, Cullen struggles to marry the things he wants with the man he wants to be.

Part of Ivy & Twine content: mentions of Broken Circle, m!Amell x Cullen, hurt/ comfort, friendship jealous, muliti-warden-verse, BPD! Inquisitor

Cullen was pacing up and down the room, from the balcony to the stairway and back, leaving heavy boot tracks in the plush carpet. Amaryll watched him from her bed, back against the railing, knees tucked in and arms placed on top of them.

He’d been walking for minutes now without uttering a word, arms crossed behind his back but leaning forward as if he meant to gain speed. He was upset, it was easy to tell, and she had anticipated some emotional turmoil on his part as soon as Leliana had told her who Warden Brosca’s companion was. She didn’t know which form she thought it would take. Rage, shame, confusion? This was something else.

Eventually, Cullen slowed. And when he came to a halt, he looked at her.

“I went to the tavern. With… with Warden Amell. He’d asked to meet, to talk. I went.”

She held his gaze, searching his face for the question she needed to ask. 

“What did you expect from the conversation?” Amaryll asked cautiously.

He exhaled, low and deep, tilting his chin upward. 

“Some form of resolution, perhaps? Absolution? I was… unkind when he returned to Kinloch, after Warden Brosca saved the Circle. I couldn’t-”

He choked on his words. Ones he thought with such intensity that veins bulged on his temples, but he couldn’t pass them over his lips. His face turned downwards, and he opened his eyes to look at his friend with a pleading desperation. Willing her to understand something he couldn't say out loud.

Amaryll moved her legs to slide forward to the edge of the bed. Careful now.

“Did he try to hurt you?” she asked slowly.

Cullen shook his head.

“Maker, no. We talked. Just… talked. And then after-”

A deep, open-mouthed breath. 

“What happened?” Amaryll asked, keeping her voice soft, low.

“There isn’t- I mean-”

She waited.

“I knew him. Everett. In Kinloch, he was one of my charges. We rarely spoke, maybe just that one time, before he was recruited to the Grey Wardens. But he would look at me, and I would look back, and then one night…”

A pit opened where Amaryll’s stomach should have been. Gooseflesh crawled up her arms and legs as she commanded herself to not show any sign of dread.

“I caught him in the library as I was making rounds. I escorted him back to his assignment, nothing happened. Nothing happened. We spoke, and I didn’t even report him after, even though I should have. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something about him-”

“What was it?” 

Confusion and deep agony danced in Cullen’s amber eyes, and for an instant, she recognized a part of herself in it. But it couldn’t be.

“After the Circle fell,” Cullen continued, his voice now much less frantic, somewhat dull, “as I was… kept, while my friends were being slaughtered. The demon who held me wore many faces to try and break me. Everett… Everett’s was one of them.”

It couldn’t be.

Amaryll forgot to breathe. 

An understanding overcame her of what it must’ve meant for Cullen to see the Warden’s face here, in Skyhold, where he had been safe. Away from Kinloch Hold, away from Kirkwall, working steadily to improve himself and his fear of mages. Only to be confronted with one of a handful of people who were there when that fear was buried in his core by strangers’ hands.

And understanding of what it must’ve taken Cullen to agree to meet Everett one on one.

But was that all?

She almost asked, almost couldn’t stop herself. What kind of demon was it, Cullen?

The pit inside her grew and threatened to swallow her heart.

“You said he returned to the Circle.”

“To buy lyrium potions and ingredients. I couldn’t look at him.”

He choked again, hesitated, and again there was this expression. Shame?

“I knew he hadn’t been there, knew the demon was not him, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t-”

She hated seeing him like this, rattled to his core. It might not have been fair, but at this moment she also hated Warden Amell for putting him in this state. He couldn't have without hurting Cullen, if not physically, then otherwise.

“I understand. What is it you wanted to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I- I wanted to disappear. To never see him again. But now…”

“Did you end up telling him? What you just told me?”

“He knew from Warden Brosca, I believe. He asked me how I was, back then when he came by. I walked away. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. Struck him down, maybe. Hurt myself. Or tried to… to kill him. Instead I left.”

“And now?”

“We talked,” he repeated. “We talked about everything. The night I walked him back to his quarters. Everything. He said he understood my coldness towards him. Didn’t fault me. He said…”

The words faded out. Too private and delicate to be divulged. But Amaryll knew, felt in her bones that this was why the Commander had beaten against her door in the middle of the night, breathless, chased.

Amaryll waited, waited patiently, though she pressed her fingertips into her thigh as if she meant to crush it.

“He… he kissed me,” Cullen confessed, shrinking in his armor as the weight of the news rolled off of him. “Outside of the tavern. I didn’t resist. He… he propositioned me.”

His voice trailed off. Pink flecks were appearing on Cullen’s neck, crawling up his jowls, his cheeks, his nose. He pressed his gloved hand to his cheek as if to contain the flush where it was.

It couldn’t be. But it was.

The pit had her heart, and now it was moving to her throat.

“You liked him,” Amaryll said, before it could take her tongue as well. That’s why the demon took his face. What kind of demon was it, Cullen? “You still do.”

Cullen moved back one step, then another. Leaned his hip against the chaise, let his hand drop back to the side as the blush subsided.

“I don’t know,” he replied, voice thoughtful, even. “I never considered, not in seriousness… It wouldn’t be… appropriate. Given our history.”

Amaryll breathed. She breathed through her nostrils, keeping her face neutral and her lips firmly shut.

This wasn’t about her. She had no business feeling like something was being torn from her. Another connection capped. Another friend lost. No business having the urge to claw her chest raw and open to let the seething feelings out. As if a friend couldn’t care for more than one person at a time. She knew this. She had always known this. And yet she couldn’t help the slick, visceral fear in her belly. Ugly, ugly woman. Horrible person. A bad friend.

“Warden Amell hasn’t been your charge in over ten years,” she reminded Cullen, softly, gently. If her voice was shaking, he didn’t notice it. “If this were a person from Kirkwall, somebody who had never lived outside of the Circle, then I would caution against it. But he has gone out into the world and made a name for himself outside of Circle restrictions, same as you. However the balance might have been, it is for him to decide if it is different now. And if it really is, if he wants you, and you want him-” Her voice faltered, but only a little. “-then maybe you can allow yourself this. Without guilt. Without shame.” 

She paused as a thought resurfaced. A slender, biting woman in Skyhold’s garden.

“Except… what about Morrigan? Aren’t they together anymore?”

The blush on the Commander’s cheeks returned.

“It appears they have… an arrangement,” he said stiffly. “While they’re apart.”

In spite of herself, Amaryll grinned and leaned back.

“Oh really? That’s delightful. And very convenient for you.”

She hadn’t thought it possible, but Cullen’s face turned even redder.

“I didn’t say I would-” he exclaimed loudly, only to realize that she was teasing him. He breathed in, out. “I didn’t say I would take him up on his proposition.”

The smile on Amaryll’s face faded. Her expression settled back to attentive neutrality. She watched intently as Cullen walked towards the bed, pulling off his heavy gloves, and took a seat next to her.

“I wouldn’t know…”

“What to do with yourself?”

He hesitated.

“That but also the implications. Of being… with a man.”

Amaryll exhaled lowly, in lieu of a sigh. 

“What would it make you,” she asked, “aside from somebody who enjoyed an old flame’s company for a night? Would it make you anything different than what you were yesterday?”

Cullen didn’t respond, only continued staring at the carpet. It hadn’t been the right thing to say. If she’d still had two hands, she would have folded them in her lap. Instead, Amaryll scooted closer to Cullen, leaning her upper arm to his.

“There is a saying among some Dalish clans,” she prompted airily. “When happiness beckons, we crawl. When pain beckons, we run. ”

“That is… a terrible saying. You’re making that up.”

She snorted. How well he’d gotten to know her.

“I am, but it illustrates a point. Sometimes people have an easier time torturing themselves over something that could make them happy, rather than just accept the thing itself, do you know what I mean? You can sit here all night dissecting the way you see yourself. What you thought you were in the past, what you are now, what you will be tomorrow. Or you can simply be. Make the decision you want, regardless of how it may look for others. I promise there will be people around you to support you no matter what. I, for one.”

Cullen lifted his head to meet her eyes, putting one elbow on his thigh and rubbing his nape ferociously.

“I see your point.” He paused, thinking. “Thank you.”

She nodded lightly.

“And if it is pointers you need, I can put you through to Dorian. I’m sure he would be utterly enraptured. And very helpful.”

“Don’t you dare- I could never-” he exclaimed, shooting straight up into a stand while Amaryll cackled. 

“Peace, now. This will stay between you and I unless you tell me otherwise.”

Cullen’s shoulders dropped, his expression eased. For a moment, they only looked at each other, warmly, until Cullen flexed his fingers.

“Thank you, Lavellan. Amaryll.”

She smiled back at him, heart full.

“I told you, you’re welcome here anytime. Thank you for thinking of me. Trusting me. I appreciate it.”

Cullen nodded, then flexed his fingers once more. 

“Good night,” he said abruptly, cutting through the awkwardness, before moving to leave.

He was almost down the stairs before Amaryll’s gaze fell upon the gloves he’d tossed by the foot of the bed. She scrambled to grab them, jumped towards the other end of the bed, and leaned over the railing.

“Cullen!” she called. “You forgot these!”

He halted, looking up at her. Contemplating.

“I’ll pick them up next time I’m here.”

A warmth spread through her chest, like milk and honey on her tongue. He’ll come back.

He’ll come back.