#solas x mara lavellan

[crabs-with-sticks]

DADWC Prompts

Characters/relationships that are bolded are ones I'm interested in this week.

Dragon Age OCs:

Mara Tabris (f rogue) | | Cor Brosca (f warrior) | | Lyla Hawke (f mage) | | Ghilara Lavellan (f rogue) | | Luca Trevelyan (m mage) | | Kytharia/ Rook (nb mage shadow dragon) | | Shirala Lavelan (f Ghilara/Solas child)

Romantic relationships I write:

Mara Tabris x Zevran | | Cor Brosca x Lelliana | | Lyla Hawke x Merril | | Ghilara Lavellan x Solas | | Luca Trevelyan x Dorian | | Note: unlikely to do romantic ships not listed

Platonic relationships I enjoy:

Origins: Mara Tabris & Lelliana | | Mara Tabris & Morrigan | | Cor Brosca & Alistair | | Cor Brosca & Zevran | | Cor Brosca & Rica Brosca Inquisition: Ghilara Lavellan & Dorian | | QPR! Ghilara Lavellan & Dorian | | Ghilara Lavellan & Varric | | Ghilara Lavellan & Cole | | Ghilara Lavellan & Blackwall | | fwb! Ghilara Lavellan & Isabella | | Luca Trevelyan & Cassandra | | Luca Trevelyan & Solas | | Luca Trevelyan & Josephine Note: I'm open to do platonic relationships not listed so feel free to send in ones not listed if that sparks joy for ya :D

Rival Platonic Relationships:

Mara Tabris & Alistair | | Lyla Hawke & Aveline | | Ghilara Lavellan & Sera | | Ghilara Lavellan & Cassandra | | Luca Trevelyan & Vivienne

AUs

The End and the Beginning- solavellan fix it AU where Solas' ritual fails and Ghilara fakes their deaths to save him Baby Crows AU- an AU where Mara Tabris was recruited by the crows and grew up with Zevran, Rinna and Talisien

Prompt Lists

Send in either just a prompt or a prompt and a pairing/character. Idm if you send in more romance-coded prompts for platonic ships, I'm a big believer in lovepunk

Send in quotes from poetry, songs, literature, essays, the chant of light etc. that you love or find particularly poetic or interesting!

Send in a tarot card- This website goes over the meanings of all the cards :)

Pillow Talk

Platonic Sentence Starters

Romance of Hands and Touch

It's All About the Yearning

For the Damaged

Found Family: Angsty || Trust Building | | Feeling Safe

Hurt/comfort prompts

Vulnerability Prompts

Oblivious Pining

Prompts for Sharing a Bed

Things You Said

Hadestown Lyric Prompts

Hozier Unreal Unearth Prompts

[altoclefgirl]

⚜️Var lath vir suledin ⚜️

The hour I live streamed #GamesCom I knew I needed a new commission of Solas and Mara Lavellan featuring Solas’ DA4 concept art armor.

And as always, @faelavellan astounds with her remarkable craft.

I trust you with capturing Mara and Solas’ story, and your skill never ceases.

Read my WIP fanfic ‘Dwell Within’, featuring Inquisitor Mara Lavellan post-Trespasser, for my take of a #dragonage4 prelude live on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004

Thank you to the readers who have joined me so far and the friends to come.

Dareth Shiral 💗

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Insta: Alto.Writes | Twitter: AltoWrites

[nelkenbabe]

Ivy & Twine: Wrap my flesh...

After a couple of days' worth of disconnect, Inquisitor Lavellan confronts Cole about what he knew of Solas' true identity and The Iron Bull's loyalty. cw: dissociation, mention of bull's death in darveraad start from the top: [x]

Amaryll jerked into consciousness, and up in her bed, when the sky outside was of a pallid violet. She was alone, for once, though traces of strangers were all over her chamber. The scent of lavender hung sickeningly heavy in the heated air. Books, games, reports and sketches had been stacked and placed next to the table. In their stead bushels of dried herbs, vials and bottles were spread across the surface. A plate she could not remember eating from stood on her bedside table, and a goblet that smelled of lavender as well. Almost as if to punish her, the Inquisitor’s head started spinning, and for a little while she believed to see a wolf in the shadow between her desk and the wall across the room. But then the world came to a still, and the predator was gone - even if the drumming in her chest would have her believe otherwise.

She didn’t know it, but it was the dawn of the fourth day since Halamshiral. Since the day before yesterday she had been magically calmed the same number of times, in order to get her to eat and drink without a struggle. The surgeon had diagnosed her with an excess of black bile, which supposedly rendered her melancholic. And since black bile was associated with the coldest and driest of the four humours, the treatment consisted of the exact opposite: she was to take in a lot of soft, moist, spicy foods, lots of liquids, and her chambers were to be heated to combat the cold in Amaryll’s bones. The lavender was to help as well, thus the overabundance of it.

Amaryll did not remember any of it, however. Not the poking and prodding by the surgeon and the enchanter, not Josephine standing near, almost shaking.

She remembered fragments of her fears and nightmares, continuous plays of light. Darkness, sunshine, eating and breaking their way through colored glass. The Iron Bull, sitting on her divan, slowly turning his head with the flaming arrow of hers that had pierced his remaining eye, talking to her. It could’ve been different, you know? Wolves and demons shoring along the walls of her chamber, growling, bound to the shadows. Qunari warriors swinging their weapons side to side, back and forth in expecting silence. Waiting for a show of weakness as their cue to start.

She also recalled a noise like cutlery against glass that incessantly rang in her ears.

Clearer than anything else that stood out, however, were the only coherent words that she remembered from a conversation that’d taken place last night.

The voice of a woman, a stranger, saying: “Do you think it’ll help?”

And another: “Doubt it. Mad with grief is not easily cured.”

“How do you know it’s grief and not something else? Enchanter Perth said there’s no demon, but she might’ve been poisoned.”

“Hmpf. Whoever would have her poisoned would be making sure she’d die, don’t you think? Not lay around-” A whisper. Then, louder: “No. Grieving, I tell you. Over the traitors.”

“The Iron Bull. I cannot believe…”

“Because you ogled him from the start. Before Arwyn.”

“Mara! That’s not true.”

“Is, too.”

“I was just wondering…” Pause. “The other one, that boy… they say he reads minds. The Iron Bull was with us for a long while, the apostate longer. Could he not have- not have done something? And all the-” Her voice trailed off.

“The elves who left. I’m sorry, Delphine. I know Arwyn meant a lot to you.”

It was only the following morning, hours and hours later, that this fragment of the conversation came back to Amaryll.

The other one, that boy, they say he reads minds. The Iron Bull was with us a long while, the apostate longer. Could he not have done something about it? And all the elves who left?

The words were devoid of meaning to Amaryll Lavellan when she first heard them echo within herself, sitting in the silent room. It was much like wearing a loose shirt that got caught on something. She stood still, couldn’t tear herself away by force lest it ripped.

Could he... not have done something?

Amaryll sank back onto her cold, sweat-soaked pillow. The next few hours she spent going over what had happened again and again. Turning every event over, inspecting it and its outcomes. Peering at its core, trying to place it into the bigger context. She tried remembering everything she could. Every conversation she’d had with her companions, everyone she’d met since she woke up in Haven’s dungeon. Every choice she’d made on her own behalf, then those made on behalf of others, then those made on behalf of entire groups of people.

As time went on, the emptiness inside Amaryll gave way to uninhibited frenzy. A buzzing sensation was sending tremors through every limb of hers, until she couldn’t possibly lay still any longer. Without a thought for anything but the questions swirling in her mind, the Inquisitor left her quarters - undressed, and barefoot. She walked out into the Main Hall, never hearing the dropping of conversations that accompanied her entrance, and took the first door on the right to Lady Montilyet’s office.

Josephine lifted her head when she entered and her eyes widened. She looked like she was seeing a specter.

“Ambassador Montilyet,” Lady Amaryll greeted her. Her voice sounded detached and authoritative. Depleted of all warmth it ever held, and filled to the brim with lightning.

Instinctively, Josephine stood up as fast as she could. No words came to mind, except: “Inquisitor.”

She was not required to say anything, however.

“I would have a messenger sent to fetch Cole,” Lady Lavellan requested, aiming for the next door as she walked. “He is to meet me in the War Room. There are to be no eyes in front of the widows or ears in the walls or at the door.”

Josephine’s eyes followed her. When no answer came from the ambassador, Amaryll halted and stared back at her. She was not in a condition to process any information held in the other woman’s face.

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Josephine said eventually.

Without another word, the elf strode on out of the office and towards the War Room. Leaving Josephine harrowed, confused, and worried.

“Cole! It is good I get to see you before the Lady Inquisitor does.”

Running in circles, fear bunching up like a blanket in her belly. Taking space where other things are blooming, tumbling out of mind as soon as they appear.

Josephine had been evidently walking up and down her office, and her bottom lip was plump from biting. Cole lifted his head to meet her gaze when she came up to him; she felt safer looking into his eyes, even if it unsettled him.

“Amaryll - Her Worship is still unwell. She seems-”

Words were eluding her, phrases that rang untrue or harsh were the only ones that came to mind.

“You can say what you mean,” Cole reminded her gently, and the woman drew air into her lungs at once.

“She seems erratic and demanded no-one listen to the conversation. I called for Seeker Cassandra and Rainier to be stationed outside of the room. Should you require… assistance, yell, and they will come to aid you.”

“It will be alright, Josephine,” he promised.

Her pale eyes searched his face. Worry was etched into them, but eventually her expression softened a bit.

“Be careful.”

Cole nodded. In a gesture of reassurance, he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

“Stolen purple berries staining tongue and cheek, laughter in her fist, as Madame Matisse is walking past them, overlooking two small girls in the bushes,” he suggested and watched the last wrinkle of concern disappear from between the ambassador’s eyebrows.

Leaving her with a pleasant childhood memory, he then moved on.

“We are here,” Cassandra told him as he approached.

Thom was quiet, restrained, never lifting his hand off the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“She is safe,” Cole said in his direction, and watched the blue in his eyes deepen.

The part of him that would forever remain ethereal felt Amaryll before Cole had even opened the door to the War Room. Upon entering he sensed a wave of frantic animosity directed his way, daggers sharp and hot. When he pushed past them, coming closer, he realized that there was something wrong.

Colors. Too many of them. Whirring about her, clashing, drowning, pushing, tearing, beating. A cloud of pain and confusion was enveloping the woman, as dense as the fog she liked to disappear in. There was no coming closer without triggering hostility, and so Cole stood several feet away from the War Table, behind which Amaryll had positioned herself.

“You’re upset,” he said to break the silence, find a way in.

He reached out to her, further and further. It should have been easy to reach in once the anchor was gone, but it hadn’t been. There’d been two of her. Or rather one of her inside her body, and another one a little to the left of her body. He’d tried explaining it to Enchanter Perth as well, but he didn’t understand. There was no sickness, only her, coming to the surface after years of pushing down and pushing and pushing and pushing-

Chain a bird to stone and watch it struggle.

Because she was his friend, and because the anchor was gone, and because she was finally open, he could feel that she was raw. An open flesh wound, hot and steaming like glowing iron in water, like a person’s first warm breath after stepping into snow. Cole pulled back.

“How is it,” Amaryll asked, unaware of the chaos swirling about her, “that you spent over half a year in everybody’s mind?” Her voice cracked, thinned as it was coming out of her dry throat and mouth. "Please tell me how you’ve been with us for so long, on close quarters, reaching into people’s heads, and last week was the first time I’ve heard of the infiltration.”

He had an answer. Though he was unsure if she could hear it over everything else.

“You’re unwell,” Cole ventured forward again, gentler than before.

He took a silent step towards the table, and her emotional landscape. It was loud. Everything about her was screaming at him, and he recoiled once again. But his feet never moved back.

“Hundreds of elves.”

Wound up, wound tight, trapped in a ball of yarn, with loops hanging out from all sides, but no end, nowhere to start untangling.

She isn’t hearing. She isn’t listening.

“And Solas-,“ she croaked. She receded. Said his name but thought of someone else. And Cole could finally grasp at a wisp of something, tug it, pull it closer and-

She moved back from the thought, retreated into pain she’d known before.

“The hundreds of hours that you two spent while we were travelling, talking about things no-one else could see or understand. You knew that Thom wasn’t Warden Blackwall before anyone else. Did you know this time as well? Who he was? What he was planning?”

Cole’s mind stilled.

“The thread between him and here was thin. Glowing, a beacon here and there at once. Wisdom’s friend was younger than the world, but older than his pain. Bitten into his goal, he cannot change, he cannot see, he has to mend what he has sharded.”

Amaryll across the room was shaking violently, so much so that strands of her greased hair were falling into her face, her wrinkly, sweat-soaked nightgown slipping off her shoulder.

“She says the little ones matter the most,” he continued, softer, with a regret that wasn’t his. “It’s the little ones that make things big. He pulls away and waits, hesitates, debates. A young man’s folly for an old man’s pain. A moment’s doubt is almost detrimental. Sacrifice it is either way. One unbearable, the other unthinkable. She almost changed his mind.”

A heartbeat’s pause from her, the swirls around her slowed as a breath caught in Amaryll’s throat. Then, quick and violent as a lighting bolt, her hands whirred through the air and slammed on the table. Cole flinched.

“Did you know?” the Inquisitor screamed. “Did you know what he was going to do?”

He exhaled with a push, then pulled his shoulders back. Too loud. Her rage, her hurt, her fear, they were too loud for her to hear.

“I didn’t,” Cole said with force. “There was aching, sorrow, pride from him. Solas never told me. He didn’t have to, for us to be friends.”

“And the elves?” Amaryll pushed. “Did none of them think of it? His plans to destroy Thedas? You said the Wolf was conflicted, and he wasn’t even of this world. Are you telling me they, who had grown up in it, felt… felt at peace with it?”

“I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I’m an elf standing for Thedas. The Inquisition is for all.”

Amaryll’s tense expression slid off her face at this quote. Colors around her stopped slashing, grew foggy, as she seemed to recall the day she took on her title.

“They thought him and I worked together,” she finally said, directed at the table. Her voice had grown meek, her pitch higher than usual. The elf swayed forward but caught the fall by pressing the palm of her hand to the table’s surface. “And the Qunari elves fulfilled the demand of the Qun. Of course there'd be no conflict there.”

Cole tilted his head, never letting her out of sight. He stepped closer and closer while she still wrestled herself. Just when he had almost reached the table, her gaze shot up and through him, as though it was one of her arrows.

“I hope you know where you stand,” she spit. "Because if the day comes and I call on you to stand against Solas and you won’t, then you better walk out now. Nobody would hinder or hunt you. But may the Creators have mercy on you if I ever saw you again, because I wouldn’t. I won’t suffer another friend turning their blade against me.”

For little while he felt like his tongue had been ripped out of his body, and a shattering clung in his mind. Cole looked at his friend and tried to understand. Tried to feel for her. But the way Amaryll looked at him made it difficult. He saw rage, righteousness, and lust for retribution. Except he’d never done anything to hurt her. He only ever sought to help.

The rainbow storm around her faded until it was undistinguishable from air. Never before had he experienced the sensation he did as he was staring back into the steeled eyes of the woman who used to always look at him with such kindness.

Little brother, she would call me. Now she is breaching boundaries that could break our bond. Sorrow shouldn’t drown out sympathy.

Cole straightened his back and lifted his chin. The steel in Amaryll’s eyes started flaking, her cheeks quivering. Slowly, the woman lowered her eyes, her face, until hair fell to cover it. The change came abruptly. Her back curved over the desk, and her body started clenching and unclenching like a fist. Drops of saltwater hit the wooden surface, and the first sob broke from her lips. By the time Cole reached her, Amaryll’s right hand had given way and her elbows were what was holding her up, with her face two inches at most from the desk. The woman sobbed uncontrollably, barely breathing.

Grief for lost souls and lost loves and lost lives. Grief for ruins and broken promises. Grief for a self she never knew. Grief for a future she cannot paint.

With his hands on each of her shoulders, he pulled her into a stand and to his chest. He met no resistance, only heated tears and an abyss that swallowed all the color in the room.

Eventually, the tremors ceased.

“Things out of sight don’t stop existing,” he murmured. “Not lives saved, not friends, not you.”

He pushed her away just enough to meet her puffy face. Amaryll did not smile, but she was neither bursting nor empty anymore. Just exhausted from the sudden swings, and her broken heart.

This was when Cole nudged her to turn and lead her out of the War Room. As soon he pushed the door open using his shoulder, there was a sound of swords being pulled out of their sheathing. Just as quickly as they were drawn, however, they were pushed back into place; Thom was the first to come and lend the rogue a hand. The Inquisitor was a small person even by elven standards, barely half a head taller than a dwarf. Tall, lanky Cole had a hard time steering her. But together with Thom, trailed by Cassandra, he accompanied the leader of the Inquisition as she stumbled ever forward - once again passive to her environment.

In the ambassador’s office, they were greeted by a distressed Josephine and a composed Leliana.

“What is the situation?” she asked immediately after looking over the Inquisitor and determining that she was not present enough to be directed any questions toward.

“I would like to know that as well,” Cassandra added from the back and walked around the small group that had come to a stand.

The walls raised high, but wind is beating them from both sides. None the wiser, often left without word.

“It’s all right,” Cole said, putting pillowy emphasis on every syllable. “She was scared and angry, but she is tired now. It’s not her fault. She needs to rest.”

“Agreed.” Thom bent over slightly to try and catch a glimpse of Amaryll’s face beneath the hair. “And a bath.”

“I shall call for one right away,” Josephine said.

Everybody was quiet for a moment. Cole felt a push, and he yielded.

“I will take her,” he offered, gently pulling her away from Thom.

His fingers miss her skin as soon as they leave it, every time there is an ache, a comfort in the warmth that he will never have. But he has her smile. It is for the best.

Slowly, carefully, Cole bent reached to put his hands back on Amaryll’s shoulders and herded her out. Back in her quarters, he placed her on the divan instead of her bed and crouched in front of her. She almost felt locked again, beside herself the way she’d been since the Winter Palace. But this time he knew better.

His friend felt everything at such a staggering intensity that her mind went blank. It didn’t take away the hurt, the love, the guilt, the fury, or the dread. But it buried it, until it was ready to resurface and break.

There had to be a solution. To the fear she felt that amplified everything tenfold.

Home lies under the gnarled tree in the tundra.

“This is a disaster,” Josephine pushed out from between her lips. “The leader of the Inquisition, lost in complete madness, wandering the fortress in nothing but dirty undergarments, looking like- like-”

“A beggar,” Cassandra completed.

“We have a bigger problem than her reputation, don’t we?” Thom countered with clear disapproval.

“Quite,” Josephine replied pointedly. “However, this does not mean that the Inquisitor’s reputation, and by extension the reputation of the entire organization, has ceased to matter simply because we are to be dissolved.” She breathed in, held it for a moment, and the others waited. “I don’t know how to spin this. How many people saw her?”

“Too many.” Cassandra lifted her chin. “Whispers were spreading as I was making my way here.”

“Indeed.”

Leliana removed herself from the tension of the circle and gracefully walked over to the fireplace. Josephine took this as a cue to move, as well, and retreated to the safety of her heavy wooden desk. There were no words to describe the way she was feeling. From the moment that the Inquisitor had appeared in her office, her heart had been sitting in her belly.

“Fortunately,” Leliana continued, “Lady Lavellan did not take any other route than the direct one here. I counted four of our noble guests talking in the Main Hall on my way here. Charter is tasked with keeping track of them and who they talk to. We cannot spin this, but we can muffle the words. Any letter sent out of Skyhold will be monitored and pulled as required.”

“Is that really necessary?” Thom objected. The Nightingale’s blank stare when she turned to look at him had his mouth go dry.

“Absolutely,” Josephine said decisively. “Rumors as to the Inquisitor’s state could severely damage our efforts to gracefully conclude the Inquisition’s time. They could also affect the people of Skyhold who depend on her good reputation in order to find employment after they leave. This must be kept quiet. For the Inquisition’s sake, as well as Lady Lavellan’s. We cannot have her turned into a tragic joke in the last few weeks of her time with us,” she concluded with a passion that prompted further silence from the others.

“Which brings us to the other matter at hand,” Cassandra began after a while. “Cole approached me yesterday about something he says might help.”

“What would that be?” Leliana asked.

“An oil. He- he said he looked into the ambassador’s trading manifests-“ Josephine’s mouth opened in protest. “-and found a shipment from the Free Marches that ought to arrive here in Skyhold soon. In two week's time. He suggested him and I ride ahead to retrieve it as soon as possible.”

“What manner of oil is this?” Josephine poked.

“I do not know.” Cassandra’s brows drew close over her darkened eyes. "From the gnarled tree, was all he said. Home.”

Whatever the round was thinking, each member held their tongue. Thom, however, was also keeping his eyes trained on the ambassador, whose face had shown a spark of recognition. A spark that was surrounded by discomfort that quickly retreated under a mask of neutral participation.

Thom was itching to prod. There was something about the way Lady Montilyet was hiding her thoughts.

“What do you think, Cassandra?” Leliana asked the warrior.

“In spite of his… nature, he has always been reliable. Him and the Inquisitor have been close friends. He may be holding the key to her betterment.”

“Rainier?”

Thom startled. “I say it’s worth a try, if nothing else. But what do we do if it doesn’t help?”

“I know of a few cloisters that would offer sanctuary to the Inquisitor,” was the Spymaster's reply. "The Revered Mother of one is known for her discretion. She would take good care of Lady Lavellan. If either of you,” she directed at the warriors, “would be willing to accompany her, then we could sort things in her absence.”

Cassandra said nothing to this suggestion, but Thom could read on her face that she was torn over it.

“Leave Skyhold weeks before the Inquisition ends?” he asked darkly. “Her friends, her only home?”

“It would be for the best. She would understand. The Inquisition has always been the most important thing to her, above all else.”

“I’m not sure she would agree if she were here.”

“Stop this,” Josephine interrupted sharply. “Her Worship might have an answer to this question, but as of now she cannot give one. We must work together and focus on controlling the damage.

“I agree with Rainier,” Cassandra said without ever once looking at him. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable riding with her in such a state. She can barely hold herself up to stand, how is she supposed to mount a horse? The Inquisitor is safest here, where we can have an eye on her.”

“While she slowly deteriorates, confined to her chamber?” Leliana challenged. “That is no kindness.”

None of them had seen or heard Cole enter, but suddenly he was there.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

[pikapeppa]

Ship-A-Thon

Tagged by @riazures and @aban-asaara - thanks for the tags, friends, this one will be fun!

Tagging forward to  @sasskarian @blondepomeranian @oops-gingermoment @obvidalous @oops-gingermoment @fourletterepithet @galadrieljones @thevikingwoman @buttsonthebeach @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul @schoute (SINCE YOU WRITE NOW MUAHAHAH) 

(Header art by @froschkuss​ and @hansaera​!) 

1. First ship you ever wrote fic for: Reyes Vidal and F!Ryder from Mass Effect Andromeda. The year was 2016, and the thirst was REAL AF. How dare you make me fall for that smooth-as-silk smuggler and then tell me he has no further dialogue with Ryder for the rest of the game. 

2. Ship you write the most now: Fenris x Rynne Hawke, also fondly known as FenRynne thanks to @schoute. I just have a lot of feelings, ok?

3. Ship you read the most now: ...read? What is this “read” you speak of? I guess either Solavellan or Abelas/Lavellan. Those are the only ships I’ve actively sought fics for.

4. Newest ship: FenRynne! But if we get to include a ship that isn’t really “mine”, but rather borrowed with SO MUCH LOVE, let’s go with @schoute’s Cullen x Piper Lavellan. 

5. Rare ship you wanna read more of: Ameridan/Lavellan and Abelas/Lavellan. @galadrieljones wrote a lovely Ameridan piece and I would love to see more of that. (Maybe I should try writing one...? Add it to the list?) 

6. Your taboo ship: no one seems to know what this means. If it’s a ship with a broadly disliked character, then probably Aloy/Nil from Horizon Zero Dawn, since a lot of people dislike Nil on the basis of him being bloodthirsty af. BUT THAT’S JUST MY CATNIP OK

7. They never met in canon ship: Reyes Vidal and Aria T’Loak! I love the idea of this ship and I will stand by it. I’m still very proud of the fic I wrote for this ship.

8. Your unexpected ship: I did not expect to fall for Blackwall as hard as I did. I was like “UGH WHY IS HIS BEARD LIKE THAT” and then I flirted with him twice and then I fell in love. Blackwall and Arya Lavellan are my happy-ending couple. 

9. The ship you always forget to love: Reyes Vidal and f!Ryder, unfortunately. I don’t reblob as much Reyder material as I should. 

10. Ship your oc with a canon character: [points at all the Bioware ships above] lol!

11. Ship you are embarrassed about: I don’t have one? 

12. Your most romantic ship: It’s a tie between Aloy/Nil and Fenris/Rynne. Both of those ships feature a male LI who could be considered “feral” or “savage” at first (to those who are ignorant) and who become softened and deeply loving under their partner’s influence. 

13. Your sexiest ship: Reyes and Mara Ryder for sure. That ship was basically just an excuse to self-insert my thirst for Reyes, so my Ryder’s character is honestly not that well-developed LOL

14. Your most tragic ship: Abelas x Athera Lavellan. YES, I consider my Abellan as being more tragic than my Solavellan, though Solas x Elia Lavellan are very close second. 

15. A ship you want more content for: Abelas/Lavellan, and Blackwall/Inquisitor. BLACKWALL NEEDS TO GET MORE LOVE, OK? HE’S WONDERFUL. 

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 28

& Without Part III

The finale of a three part series exploring other choices on its fate of Thedas.

...

Cold and mid morning, Smoke drifted lazily from the remnants of the Rutherford home. No longer lit in flames, the residual embers met the still and frozen air, under turned by Mara’s wary feet.

There was nothing. Wooden beams turned to ash, the siding crumbled, cracked, and discarded. There were no distinguishable possessions...Everything had parished... and perhaps everyone.

Mara stifled a cry, her mouth opened and guard fallen.

“If you’re looking to loot, there’s nothing left.”

Mara and Leliana both turned as a silent bystander had watched the two approach the remains of the home.

His voice and features were rough, weathered. A worn man of at least his mid 40’s, overshadowing a pre-teen boy who stood just behind.

There was a kindness to his eyes behind his calloused look. She’d recognized those features anywhere. “Branson?” Mara asked gently. She had only met their sisters, but there was a distinct Rutherford look in his tired features. She watched as Branson stiffened, untrusting of the two women who stood before their fallen family home. “I’m Inquisitor Lavellan. And this is my colleague Leliana.”

His eyes softened some as he looked to Mara, her pointed ears, her Vallaslin free face, the staff strapped to her back. Branson looked back to his son, then to Mara. A heavy sigh left him. “Will my boy be safe if we talk?”

“Yes.” Mara and Leliana answered in unison.

Branson turned to his son, whispered he’ll be back shortly, then turned and started walking west. Mara followed him, stopping about 100 feet away from his son and Leliana.

“I’m guessing you have something to do with all of this.” His tone was hurt, jaded, but his voice carried quietly.

Mara remained silent but looked to him with compassion. His grief fluttered through the air.

“Last night when I came home, the house was engulfed in flames. The house had to have been burning for hours...” His eyes turned to the ground.

Mara waited for the answers that would break her.

“They were home.” Branson looked back up to Mara, whose eyes were full and misty. “The fire took them.”

Death had followed Mara over the years. Thousands passed, out of war, bravery, justice, innocence, or victimization. And now, two more souls died in her name. Fast tears rolled down her face, bringing her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.

“Who did this?” Scorned, vindicated. He had to know.

Drawing a breath, she answered softly. “Enemies. They’re targeting our families.” Another sniff as she challenged to take a breath. “We’ve traveled for days to get to you.”

“They took my family!” Branson shouted his words, cutting into the guilt that Mara already held. He wanted to be mad at her. He wanted someone for whom he could channel his anger.

And she allowed it. If she could carry this burden and relieve him, she would always choose this. “I’m so sorry.”

He could see her guilt, and he could see what his siblings saw in her. He shook his head, pacing in spot for a minute before speaking.

“I remember they wouldn’t shut up about you when Cullen brought you home. It was all I heard for months... Inquisitor this, Inquisitor that... I had always been weary of his choice to join you. But how my family loved you...” Branson teetered in emotions of blame. “They’re gone because of your cause.”

...

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/60959113

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Tumblr: Altoclefgirl | Twitter: AltoWrites

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 1: Collapse

Fanart Gifted by @thedreadwolfswhisper

She closed the door behind her, letting out a low and heavy breath. The quiet reverberations of the chamber door echoed alongside her slowing breaths. Her eyes remain closed, her feet unwilling to move a step forward. When the world slowed—when the earth was quiet, chamber torches unlit, the busy chatter of her remaining Inquisition circle and network in the foyer shushed—it was this minute moment that held all the power. This small moment in which she was alone with herself held the power to capsize her. She could feel the boundaries of the fade press against her body, as if gravity suddenly pushed against her horizontally and threatened to suffocate her. These were the moments she could very well crumble; any lasting motivation could disintegrate.

The fade felt thinner in the moments of solace, as if beckoning her to join. A small part of her wished to concede. In the first days after Solas donned the nomenclature of Fen’Harel, she had welcomed the Fade wantingly, scouring the expanse of the Fade in search of answers from his own mouth. She became the hunter, hungry for his scent and his truth. As she hunted, she felt both preyed upon and having just missed his trail. It was a sickly game in which she was both led and preyed—always within his scope but Solas never quite within her grasp. He had not yet made himself known to her. He was unyielding, a fortitude who sought to know but never be known to her. She remained quiet on her hunt, forgoing her nature to call to him.

When Solas had just left upon the defeat of Corypheus, she would call to him in the Fade, a devout and breaking plead. On the night of his return to don the name Fen’Harel, it was the last time she pleaded his name in the Fade.

In the recent months, she chose not to step into the land of The Dreaming. And since her decision, it appeared the Fade hungered for her lingering presence. For months now, the Fade had often felt like a gentle, nodding breeze away, as if she could simply take one step forward into the Fade. And tonight in her chambers, the Fade excited the magic within her and around her. The magic buzzed and blanketed her with its weight, as she still stood at the door to her chambers. Let me take you, it whispered in her mind, but it felt like a warm breath and graze to her neck.

Mara drew in a breath, her eyes still closed. Dare she let the Fade take her?

The magic air around her swirled with warmth, even though the chamber had a cool, night breeze rolling through the window. The warm magic air roamed around her, capturing her hair and caressing her body in an almost affectionate manner. The ends of her tunic fluttered from the warm current, lifting so that her stomach was grazed with the warm magic. She swore she could feel weight pressed to her face, as if her cheek was being touched by a welcome lover. She lifted up her own hand to her face to feel the phantom guest. She sensed dense warm air upon her cheek—palpable to her own hand. She leaned her face against the grazing phantom hand, leaning into comfort she had been without.

She had kept everyone at arm’s length--her ambassador, her spies, her warriors, and the family she found with the Inquisition. The sad eyes from her friends never relinquished—she wasn’t sure if it was unending pity or reaction to the continued depth of her pain. Varric had once told her he wasn’t sure if Mara was the most unlucky person to have lived or chosen by Andraste herself. They both settled on miraculously bad luck. It felt as if there was consensus among her friends, that she was perpetually doomed to hurt and to save the world. Poor thing. She hadn’t talked to anyone about her feelings, or her dealings with perpetual misfortune.

But tonight she entertained the idea of company—whether it was a spirit, the Fade, or her lover shrouded in the Fade. She wasn’t quite sure who or what called for her, and this could be the moment to collapse. The Fade pulled harder on her body, as if magnetized, aching to draw her in. She did not dare move, not even a shuffle of her feet. The pull centered in her chest, and beckoned to draw her arms forward. She sucked in a deep breath, her chest trembling with the attraction and anticipation of company.

The warm breath that whispered in her ear moved to her face, and she felt a presence just beyond her lips. The warmth flooded her body, longing stirring within her. Eyes still closed, she moved her right hand forward to the bound presence of the Fade, and it felt as if there was a familiar face in her hand. The face was merely centimeters from her own. Her hand felt the jaw of the presence, and leaned her head forward, against the presence’s brow. Her breath quickened, heavy and warm, as the presence’s breath rushed over her lips. The singular moment felt like a drum roll of anticipation, neither party moving forward as their hearts raced. Her whole body trembled, and to regain any strength left she took in a slow deep breath, her body pulsing.

She opened her mouth, feeling their breath against her own. The presence of their mouth lingering over her own but not touching.

“Thank you for sparing her.” Mara let out, her hand moved from the presence’s jaw to their chest, faintly feeling a thump of a heart beat. The drum roll continued for a few seconds, then suddenly the boundary of the Fade snapped, the breath and heart beat and the pull of the Fade gone sharply. The suddenness gave out her legs, her whole body shaking until she hit the floor kneeling. She finally opened her eyes, and her chamber was just as it usually was. Her armor strewn across the bed, the covers on her side of the bed untucked.

At that, the clarity of the room was skewed, as tears poured from her. The pull from the Fade, the love of a ghost, did her in. The small moment of longing had cracked her, like the Elvhen artifact that was left for Corypheus. And the magnitude of magic pouring out of the artifact rivaled the explosive pain scouring from her soul.

She was capsized.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 29

Here and Now

Upon the world ending, her love led him home. 💗

...

It felt the same. His feet soft and padding up the familiar stone steps. The uniforms were the same, but the sheer numbers of forces were astounding. Greeted, saluted, but he made no answer as he quickened the pace into the hold. A brisk walk through the great hall turned into jog, then a sprint as he rounded three staircases to the corridor.

A door he had walked through hundreds of times. A door that he had fretted before once upon a time, and a door that at one point was always welcome for his stay.

This door of darkened oak was all that stood before what could be. With only the smallest hesitation, he breathed in deeply and then quietly swung open the door. He could have collapsed, the fair and golden lover curled on the drawing couch with a journal at hand. Lip bitten, she appeared to be searching for words, or lost in a memory. In either matter, whimsy donned her rose cheeks as she stole a moment for herself and her thoughts.

A heavy, exasperated sigh was released from him, and his feet led him home.

Mara turned at the sound of the footsteps, pulling herself from the sweetened thoughts. She stood from the drawing couch to welcome him from his return from Ferelden. “You’re back.” A honeyed tone that revealed his return meant something more. He had decided to stay. Her heart pounded a little nervously as he returned to her in confidence.

The journal in her hand dropped and clambered to the marble floor as he glided in, sweeping her into a familiar hold of lovers, one arm wrapped around the small of her waist to lift her, one hand’s fingers sinking up into the braid of the base of her neck.

The motion too quick and perfect to respond, in some surprise he showcased a renewed love, sinking his soul into the depths of her. Upper lip flushed against hers, his bottom lip rounded and cupped below hers. This kiss paled to the one he gave her as he bravely whispered his love just a few weeks ago. Paled to the accidental kiss she initiated in their dreams. This was a kiss only fitting of a homecoming of the utmost and enamored lovers. And this grandeur left her weak. As he lowered Mara to the ground, her knees buckled and a quick reflex pulled her in tighter to his broad and strengthened stature.

Her lips twitched as she fought a smile, breathless. “What are you doing?” She whispered in between quiet pants. The affection lifted something small that dwelled unknown to her spirit.

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/61058341

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Instagram: Alto.Writes | Twitter: AltoWrites

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 32

Last Man in Thedas

Live on AO3

This chapter has been in the works for two months as has seen many revisions (and has been in my mind for much longer). I owe it to you, to the story, and to myself to do this right. Thank you for waiting as I left you with a major cliffhanger.

I am so happy to share this with you. 💗

I do have a new goal on Ko-Fi to fund a couples commission for Mara and Cullen. I will also gratefully accept coffee to fuel my writing flow.

Dareth Shiral 🖤

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Insta: Alto.Writes | Twitter: AltoWrites

...

Mara offered her right hand across the war table, palm up anticipating his touch. Her gaze was focused yet soft, a kindness that would never yield. “It’ll be easier to join you,” she explained.

The Inner Circle had returned to the table in the war room after the intermission. Solas on Mara’s left, Cullen directly across from Mara, and Cassandra and Leliana filling in the other chairs at the table.

The table was now topped with warm tea among the vials of potions. Solas sat closely to Mara’s left, ready to direct guidance and supply lyrium or elfroot should she grow faint from the art of legilimency.

Without a glance to anyone else in the war room, Cullen met her eyes and her hand with his own, softly kneading his thumb to her open palm before taking her hand in his left.

Mara’s affect and tone did not change by his touch, aware of the peering eyes in the room. “The tea will help you relax, but without falling asleep.” Mara paused, feeling the buzz and warmth of magic from his gold band in her fingers. “Your willpower and experience as a Templar may make this very difficult. That’s okay. We can go slow and you can ask me to stop at any time.”

His honeyed eyes were trusting even with the task. Cullen nodded, ready to proceed.

Mara paused again, inhaling before she began.

“Close your eyes with me.”Mara instructed, watching as Cullen closed his eyes, his face softening in the rest. “Think of your home...Focus on one distinct feature.”

Mara closed her own, concentrating on the touch of his warm hand. “Think of it. Describe it to me.”

Cullen searched his mind and the month he spent there. There was pain and the entirety of the home weighed and spun in his mind.

One thing.

Cullen inhaled deeply, sighing as the antique writing desk came to mind.

There was a writing desk. Your letter was left on the surface, folded into thirds and addressed to me. Cullen stiffened, his upper back tensing as he recalled the letter. She had composed and left a letter explaining the home--a letter she prepared as she did not have the same optimism Cullen held for the fate of the world.

The desk is blue. Light blue, with brass knobs. And frankly, a little snug for me to fit into.

Mara waited in silence until a morsel of a thought found her. Blue. Except that it was abstract and without meaning, without form.

“Something blue,” Mara softly spoke. “What is around the blue?”

Cullen inhaled, trying to think of anything other than the letter penned to him. His name was written in soft and flowing cursive. He had memorized her letter word for word and recited it each night in her absence until he fell asleep.

There’s a velvet armchair. In the backdrop of bay windows. Cullen sighed, heaviness weighing in his chest. I used to imagine you curled up there, the sunlight dancing on your skin. There was a blanket on the armchair. Something to keep you warm as you read your favorite story as if it were new again.

The feeling, not the words itself, were warm and brimming from their joined hands and coursed up to her mind.

“Invite me,” Mara asked softly, a whisper that almost begged intimacy.

Cullen softly smiled to himself at her words. I want you here with me, Mara.

...

Continue Reading on AO3:

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 31

A Vow

In another world befalls destruction, but on whose hands?

...

A summit so soon, Inquisitor? Does that mean we’ll finally lay out the plan of our alliance with Solas?” Leliana removed her coat and set it on an antique brass hook against the oak walls of the war room. She had removed herself from the mission to trace an erratic Mortalitasi cell upon urgent word from Mara.

Mara inhaled, steadying herself for the seriousness of the matters at hand. “That…and more.”

Cassandra squinted after setting down a mug of chamomile tea. Cassandra had accompanied Mara to Solas’ fortress to take stock of his assets. “There’s more? To review the extent of the new resources under our influence will take a considerable amount of time, in and of itself.”

Leliana studied Mara, her posture and her pretense. Leliana’s head cocked, recalling an order to discretely locate their Commander. “Has he not returned?”

Cassandra stiffened, also turning to Mara. The air stilled and thickened as they waited for her to speak.

“We will be joined momentarily.” Mara exhaled, unable to take her chair at the head of the table and join those seated. “Something has happened… and the details of this event are of the utmost discretion. It cannot leave this room tonight, and it may be something we never share with anyone.”

Cassandra adjusted in her seat as Leliana’s face hardened awaiting the truth. Their minds were abuzz with dire scenarios. It had only been two months since Leliana and Mara tracked the double-agent, resulting in Sister Laudine’s death and the displacement of several families of the Inquisition. Cullen was due to return last night from helping his family settle into a new home in Ferelden, safe and away from their comfort in South Reach. Had Sister Laudine conspired with their Commander? Was this the news that could never be repeated?

Or had he foolishly struck his final blow in his intensive pursuit of the Inquisitor’s heart?

“Last night the Commander returned to the hold.” Mara swallowed, certain that whatever she was about to say would sound incoherent.

“The Commander who returned…isn’t from here. He has experienced things that haven’t happened, as if he has lived in another world.”

...

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/63477196#workskin

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Insta: Alto.Writes | Twitter: AltoWrites

[altoclefgirl]

As I’m sharing fan favorite moments, I wanted to share one of mine: the moment Solas humbles himself and returns to Inquisitor Mara Lavellan. 💗🐺🖤

This moment occurs 13 months after the Trespasser DLC, when the Inquisition continues their fight to provide order in a different capacity.

Solas reveals himself at an Inquisition-organized meeting with Ambassadors across Thedas, slaying all but the Ambassador from the Inquisition (Charter).

This moment—of Solas hoping to see Mara—was a breaking point for the both of them.

And in their shared harrowing pain, Solas returns to Mara, meeting her as an equal.

Continue Reading their story on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 30

Stay

...

She was, unequivocally, the love of his life. And in this moment of her sheer radiance, his hope for her solidified. A dream he was afraid to dwell on, but there would be no retreating from this prismatic truth. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

“Cullen, before you go, I...” Mara’s cheeks flushed red in vulnerability. While he had stayed with her throughout the night before, this was their first night of intimacies.

Enamored by his warmth, patience, and strength, she was vulnerable and winded to his charm. “I want you to know that...your stay is always welcome.” It could have been too bold to unearth this truth, but the peace he brought her was worth preserving. She bunched and brought up the duvet to cover her bared soul. The golden morning cast a warm haze over the porcelain lover.

“Mara,” While he had dressed to part for his first meeting of the day, he sat back down at the edge of her bed, bringing her into an affectionate hold. “I am deeply in love with you. And I love falling asleep next to you, and holding you...and a newfound favorite of making love to you.” He watched as the rose in her cheeks and ears darkened, but her eyes reflected a hope. “I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”

His love awakened something far beyond her understanding, but she knew enough to know this love was everything. Her lips found his perfect and scarred mouth, somehow healing her in return. “I love you,” she breathed, caught in the magic of his humility. She lifted, arching her back as the duvet slid down to a bare and enamored Inquisitor.

_____

Cullen awoke to her words echoed in his mind. Your stay is always welcome. A promise made to him so many months ago in the same bedroom after a night of exploration and mapping every inch of her body. Her love, the sweetest gift on his 39th birthday.

The room was still darkened in a midnight blue. He turned, watching as her body stirred in the bed above him. She was fast asleep on her left side, her right arm hanging off the bed in her slumber.

...

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23937004/chapters/62859247

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl | Ko-Fi: Altoclefgirl

✨ AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Insta: Alto.Writes | Twitter: AltoWrites

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 26

& Without Part I

First of a three part series examining the impact of different choices, particularly the dynamics of Mara Lavellan, Solas, and Cullen.

Your moment is coming, Cullavellan shippers 💛

Trigger Warning: Anxiety, panic

✨ Patreon: Altoclefgirl AO3: Altoclefgirl

✨ Insta: Alto.Writes Twitter: AltoWrites

...

The door closed to her bedchamber. In the privacy the door provided, separating herself from the remaining Inquisition, the will to carry on was bleak. The precipice of collapse was razor thin, and he had done her in.

Charter’s words echoed in cycles in her mind. “He was there, Inquisitor. He disguised himself to learn how much we knew about him. He killed the ambassadors before the end, but he spared me. I think he was hoping you would have been there.”

Old wounds, ripe with tears and pain. Old wounds masked in thick scaring. Old wounds underneath that had never closed, reformed, or healed.

She had continued as it was necessary, every moment teetering, awaiting the final capsize.

Perhaps this was it.

Anger flooded the open wounds and tore thick scaring asunder. He bestowed this pain as a curse. A remnant of a lover who did not treat her as his equal. A reminder that she was not enough in his eyes to save the world, or each other.

Hot tears spilled and rolled over her broken spirit. Her body shook in frustration. Her pleas fell on blind eyes.

Heart rate quickened with her breathing. Hitched. Irregular. Fast. Gasping. Suffocating. Drowning.

Her body was hijacked by panic. With any remaining autonomy, she forced her body across the bedroom to her bathroom. Feebly turning the knobs of the shower, her fine motor faculties diminished, finally hot water fell.

Pulling, tugging, freedom of trapped garments.

Bracing the shower wall with her arm, the panic took its hold and raged a one-sided war. Gripping the wall, there was nothing else to cling to. The only hope was to stop him, for he no longer saw her. Or loved her, if he ever did.

...

Continue Reading on AO3:

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 25

Everlasting

...

He obliged, after the party returned from the Storm Coast. She had asked him for a moment alone—and moments alone he gave sparingly. Any small moment with her could be the moment he gave in to her charm and her heart. Her kind eyes enticed him and begged him to let her in.

Mara initiated the embrace, as usual. She was the always the one who stepped forward, reaching out to grasp him in wisps as he always retreated.

Moving forward, she clutched the collar of his tunic, her fingers trailing down the v neck until settling in a tight grasp, the beige fabric bunched in her fingers. Without hesitation, she placed her lips over his, focusing on his full and warm lower lip. She felt him relax under her grip as he kissed her back fervently. When her mouth opened, his wet tongue swept in, his hunger bidding a war. He sated his hunger only briefly, forcing himself to quell the fire roaring through him at her initiation.

She sensed his demeanor change as his lips became tight and broke away from hers. He couldn’t let himself kiss her for more than a minute, and it frustrated her poor heart. If only he could let her in. She felt desire in his kiss with every return. Why did he always have to pull away?

Solas stepped back from her and shook his head, but his eyes reflected the warring conflict.

“Stay.” She pleaded as her heart pounded and longed for him. She needed more than a fleeting moment, for what she felt could not fade. Solas watched as her cerulean eyes widened. The grief if he were to deny her was unmistakable. “Please.” She whispered, her voice tightening as though she would cry if he forsake her.

He had not asked for his foci to find her hands, or for him to guide her, or to inevitably follow her. He had not asked to find someone remarkable with depth, wisdom, and kindness he had not seen in centuries. He had not asked to let his guard fall at her whim.

And now she asked for him, for somehow she saw something in him too.

For as much as he needed to, he couldn’t break her heart now, for she held his heart as well.

...

Continue Reading on AO3:

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 24

Herald

...

The turquoise and lavender light of dawn broke through the length of the opulent floor-to-ceiling windows facing the east. The renewed daybreak spoke to Mara in delighted whispers, she stirred and removed herself from the silk sheets of the king sized bed. She turned and smiled at the sleeping god, the generous lover who kept giving. His heart, his hands, his agents, his resources. He trusted and gave to her freely—his gifts astounded her.

She walked the small distance quietly to the wardrobe, where the content of her pack had been put away. She felt the golden ornate knobs, pulling and opening to an armoire full of delicate and varied fabrics—much more than she packed for the overnight trip. Mara ran her hands gently over the fabrics—silk blouses, chemises, dresses, robes, fine leggings, and coats. She pulled on the drawers below, the contents full of new and beautiful small clothes and bras.

Mara took a step back to view Solas, still peacefully sleeping, his carved arms outstretched to where he had held her the entire night. The expanse of his rippled back visible as the duvet was tucked low on his waist.

He had purchased and filled his suite with an entire wardrobe for her of the most divine fabrics and cuts. He continued to amaze her, and rightfully or not, she felt small in what she had to offer him.

...

Continue Reading on AO3:

[altoclefgirl]

Dwell Within Chapter 23

The Fortress (NSFW)

There’s smut you won’t want to miss 💗

...

The three trekked quietly through an assortment of Eluvians, until finally stepping out to a structure only fitting of the word palace amidst dense clouds and crisp blue skies. A variety of towers and spires jutted from the structure of the fortress, and astounded them all in a breathless wonder.

“Maker.” Cassandra whispered.

The fortress and landscape reminded Mara of the Wellspring far below the Deep Roads inhabited by the Sha-Brytol, but even more grand and extraordinary.

Solas led the stroll from the Eluvian, walking along the path glittered in perfectly kept grounds and flowers. Lush and green trees spun in what looked like dazzling crystals.

Mara and Cassandra followed behind Solas, on the trail of his splendid dark cloak that swept and billowed behind him. Agents bowed and lowered their heads as the Dread Wolf prowled his domain. It was auspicious and surreal to be on his coattails and experience all of this.

In a daze, they arrived at the entrance of the fortress, and the doors that must have been 50 feet tall opened at once to their presence.

“Is this…?” Mara stepped forward through the threshold and spun as her heart brimmed in magic and marvel. “Is this what Arlathan looked like?” Her eyes misted as it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“It is but a glimpse, Vhenan.” He watched as her expression became overwhelmed in feelings.

Continue Reading On AO3:

[altoclefgirl]

💫You Chose Me💫

To the friend who never misses an opportunity to remind you of your own light and the gift of healing, ma serannas. 💗

•••

“For you. Heaviness breaks, unrelenting. Words and thoughts spun, swirled, stuck. They consume.” Cole handed the Inquisitor a leatherbound book, golden letters fading to name an Elvhen lexicon. “This will help the words—flowing, faring, free in your native tongue.”

Mara’s eyes widened and in shaky hands received the leatherbound book, thankful she was now sitting as the weight could have snapped her into a collapse. She swallowed, her throat tightening as there were no words. And that was precisely why the Spirit nudged her along, asking her to reopen wounds to feel what she had poorly tucked away for so long.

Mara exhaled deeply, Cole coming back into view as he knelt before her, placing a hand atop of hers holding the bound lexicon. “The light is still there, fervent and radiant. The shadows are not here to stay. And you have what it takes to cast them away.”

Mara inhaled, her body slightly trembling. Cole squeezed her hand tightly, some beautiful wave of warmth cascading from her hands to her heart and every place within her that had been cast in darkness. After a moment she gave him a smile and a squeeze of the rogue’s hand. “I’m so thankful you chose me.”

•••

💫 This excerpt is from the Snapshots of Winter collection, part of the Dwell Within Series. Live on AO3 (link in bio).

💫 Dwell Within is a Dragon Age fanfiction on Archive of Our Own, a mature story of Inquisitor Mara Lavellan’s journey post-Trespasser as a prelude to Dragon Age 4.

💫 Themes of hope, redemption, and all the feels. 💗

AO3 to Dwell Within Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074359