#when he needs support he's encouraged rather than disregarded

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 06

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Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler

A/N: Protective Law reporting for duty. I didn't want to delve too much into the Zou arc so this is just Law being protective at various points in the arc. Also, can I just say, Zou Law is my favourite Law cause gawd dammit he looked so hot in that black button down shirt, you know the one....anyway, I hope you like it!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

Despite initially finding your newly acquired bounty amusing, it had made Law hyper-aware of your every move. While bounties would usually imply that you were more than capable of holding your ground in battle, to Law it signified a potential recklessness - a reason for you to test the limits of your powers to a dangerous extent, which only meant you could cause more harm to yourself than you had in the past. And whether it was the sudden soft spot he harboured for you or the fact that you had mentioned Corazon twice, indicating your familiarity - that intrigued him, Law felt protective.

This protective instinct first manifested when you were approaching Zou, or rather it was the first time Law had come to realise this need to protect you. He had watched as you emerged from one of the cabins and sat alone on the deck, a frown etched on your face. Prior to the incident at Dressrosa, he would have disregarded your demeanour, but now felt that his dynamic with you had shifted, and it was only right to show concern.

"Everything okay?" he inquired as he took the seat beside you, and the faint smile that you gave him, told him all that he needed to know.

"Who were you healing?" His eyes searched you for any fresh wounds, though you had done well to conceal your bruises with a long sleeved top and a pair of loose cargo pants, not to mention the bandages that you were already covered with.

"Some of Bartolomeo's crew had a few minor injuries, nothing to worry about," you reassured him with another smile, touched by his concern.

"Don't overwork yourself," he advised as he made himself comfortable beside you. If you attempted to heal anyone again, at least this time he could intervene.

The next time Law felt his protective instincts surge was when it came to climbing to the top of the elephant on whose back rested the island Zou, where his crew had been waiting for him. The pink dragon that Kanjuro had conjured up made Law feel uneasy. Regardless of the fact that he found your gushing over the dragon endearing, he couldn't imagine a single scenario in which a terribly drawn dragon would reach all of you to the top. However, there weren't any other options, and Luffy's excitement, plus your words of encouragement to the little dragon had everyone piling on top of him, with Law quick to take the place behind you.

The climb was going smoothly until Law noticed your body sway as if on the verge of unconsciousness. His arm instinctively encircled your waist, providing support as you fell against him. "What's wrong?" The tension in his voice was clear, and as he watched you struggle to stay awake he grabbed at your wrist to check your pulse.

"Using her powers on Bartolomeo's crew members must be making her drowsy. She should be awake by the time we reach the summit," Robin answered on your behalf, and Law couldn't help but click his tongue in frustration as you slumped further into his embrace, his hold on you tightening. He couldn't blame anyone for not knowing the repercussions of your powers, but the frustration grew within him towards everyone who had made you use those damn powers.

As Robin had said, you awoke just as the summit came into view. Law felt a sense of relief wash over him as you stirred in his arms, and with a gentle squeeze to your side grabbed your attention.

On feeling Law's presence behind you, you sat up straight and mumbled an apology as you fumbled to break away from his grasp, but he wouldn't let go, instead leaning closer to you, "I told you not to overexert yourself," he chided, and you rolled your eyes in response, missing his irate tone.

"This was before, and it really was nothing. I'm all good now." Despite your assurance, Law remained unconvinced. Once again silently vowing to protect you from any harm, especially in your endeavours to heal others.

_______________________________________________

Law remained glued to your side as you ventured further into Zou and took to examining what remained of the Minks' residence. Earlier, he had let his guard down and you were nearly electrocuted by a Minks; luckily Zoro had stepped in before she could get a hold of you. Now he watched over you carefully, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings for any potential dangers.

"This looks like it was used to inflict torture." Law eyed you with concern when the words you spoke were accompanied with a tremor as you took in the remnants of the wooden cross that had been stuck to the ground, worry settling in the pit of your stomach. From a little further ahead Usopp yelled something about a huge drop of water, and from where you were crouched on the ground inspecting the wreckage you strained your neck to see what had cast a huge shadow onto the ground.

"We need to get to higher ground!" You heard Robin instruct through the sudden chaos. Before you could even comprehend what you were looking at, Law's hand closed around your arm, a tinge of annoyance in the sigh he let out as he transported everyone to the top of a building that hadn't been destroyed in the earlier conflict.

As you caught your breath, your heart racing from the sudden teleportation, you looked around, taking in the view from the elevated point. The destruction that spread out before you was a clear sign of the chaos that had engulfed the country, and once again a feeling of dread settled over you. You tried to peak your head over the edge of the building, curiosity getting the best of you as you attempted to catch a glimpse of the water from above flood the city. But Law's grip on your arm remained firm, holding you back from leaning any further. Fate seemed determined to test his resolve to protect you.

"Stay back, we don't know when these buildings could collapse," his voice was authoritative yet imbued with concern as he pulled you away from the edge, and you couldn't help but throw him a glare. At first his concern for your well-being had been endearing, but now it almost felt suffocating; his overprotectiveness acting as a sign that he didn't think you could handle yourself.

"I can take care of myself, you know," you muttered under your breath.

"I'd rather not take any chances," he didn't miss the irritation in your tone, countering it with his own stern response. Before you could retort, Usopp's voice cut through the almost rising tension, alerting all of you that he had spotted Luffy.

_______________________________________________

Even when Law had to momentarily separate from the group to reunite with his crew, he was reluctant to leave your side. He would claim that he would go look for them, but then wouldn't move an inch, instead his eyes fixating on you in a silent plea for you to say that you would join him. Though that was far from what you wanted. You were looking forward to reuniting with the other Straw Hats for a short banquet, and if anything craved to get away from Law's protectiveness.

Just when he had had enough of the indirect approach, and was on the verge of suggesting that you come along with him, you spoke up, seizing the opportunity to get away, "Law your crew's probably waiting for you, we'll catch up with you later." You locked arms with Nami and Robin and pulled them away before he could even get a word in.

Law, ever perceptive, knew you were trying to keep your distance, and it was starting to bug him how good you were at it. Upon returning with his crew, his interactions with you were short-lived; you would either swiftly engage in conversation with someone else, or make a quick exit the second he took his eyes off you. Your avoidance made it clear to Law that you would be more inclined to go with Luffy to Whole Cake Island, whether it was to retrieve Sanji, or evade him. Nevertheless, Law remained determined to keep you by his side. As discussions about the division of the group for the missions to Whole Cake Island and Wano arose, he was quick to suggest that you accompany him.

"Why?" you asked, your curiosity sparked by his unwavering insistence, and for a fleeting second you thought you saw a flicker of hesitation before he composed himself, "I need your assistance." His cryptic response didn't give you the explanation you were looking for, it was however, compelling, and you found yourself willingly agreeing to accompany him nonetheless.

_______________________________________________

A/N: Next chapter is the one that I wrote well in advance (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ we've made it this far ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗ

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld

[soulfireblue]

thinking about tubbo and his relationship with leadership. how he asked forever if he could be president for a day and got added to a long list of names of people who would take over for the person before their name on the list. how he asked to be leader of soulfire and everyone was like "uh yeah sure i guess" on that first day and didn't really take it seriously.

and then fast-forward to now, he's going into purgatory 2 with a whole team behind him supporting him and his leadership. they want him to lead them again without even knowing what's to come, and they still call him coach and captain. it doesn't matter that they lost the first time. it doesn't matter that he's the youngest on the island. he's won people's respect, but more importantly, he's found a family in soulfire, and they've all found a family in each other too. it doesn't just come from a place of respect. it also comes from a place of love. and he's come so far since he was first released from that ice prison. they all have.

before purgatory, no one took tubbo seriously. he only had morning crew. bad was his enemy because of ron and fred. bagi hated him for the hole. he didn't have an egg. so much has changed since then. i mean, just think about what bad said when he showed tubbo the base! think about how bagi's desire to go to purgatory was to save tubbo and the other members of soulfire, how she's said so many times that she wants him as her coach again.

he's found respect, and he's found love of every kind in places he never would have even thought to look. i don't think there's any truer definition of found family than team soulfire.

[khaire-traveler]

I don't want to be disrespectful but I'm feeling conflicted working with Hermes sometimes.

He's always been kind to me. I'm very grateful for that.

He has encouraged my passion for helping others especially the homeless and disabled. It's just so much discourse around me is telling me he's evil or at the very least dishonorable because he's apathetic and a trickster/thief. That he's only in my life because I'm amusing or easy to manipulate.

Gods aren't human and they're complicated. I just sometimes feel alone in my appreciation of him. I feel like I have to give up when it comes to talking about him around anybody else. Have you ever felt like this before in your practice? Thank you for listening.

***Please read this knowing I had good intentions and my tone is meant to be kind, respectful, and serious. I say this now because this feels like it may be a sensitive topic, and I don't want you to interpret this as me trying to be critical, rude, mean, etc. I promise I am not upset at you, Nonny. I know this was probably difficult for you to share.***

Hey, Nonny, thank you for entrusting me with this topic.

Honestly, I haven't seen any discourse about worshipping Hermes (keep in mind that this is the only social media, besides YouTube, that I use), but what you're describing sounds very similar to the discourse around worshipping Loki (I am a devotee of them as well). If you don't know about the discourse around Loki, I actually encourage you to look into it because it's a good example of how people will literally criticize a deity to hell and back, especially for things they did in myths or based on a person's random UPG.

The thing is, Nonny, that there is nuance in everything. Nothing is ever so neatly black and white or good and bad; there are always layers. Hermes is a god of thievery, yes, but have you considered that some people steal because they literally have no other access to basic needs, such as food or medication? Hermes is a trickster god, but have you considered that maybe it contributes to his love of laughter and fun? That in order to have a good time, sometimes you need to be witty and a bit chaotic? Being a god over these things is the same as Zeus being a god of storms: these things will happen passively, and it doesn't have to mean that god is making or causing something to happen. Just because someone gets their wallet stolen doesn't mean that Hermes was behind it. I guess it's kind of the idea that correlation does not equal causation.

About Hermes being apathetic, though, that's an absolutely ridiculous claim if I've ever heard one. In the myths, who tended to come to people's aid the most, unprompted? Hermes. Who has the epithet of joy-giver, ready-helper, and luck-bringer? Hermes. Who did some ancient shepherds pray to when their herds (their livelihood) were attacked, ancient beggars struggling to survive on the streets, ancient travelers who were terrified and lost their way? Hermes. Hermes is MUCH more than just a god of trickery and thievery. He is a god of the people. He genuinely cares about his worshippers, which literally every worshipper has told me that I've interacted with, and he takes good care of his devotees. I encourage you to research Hermes further and read about how he was worshipped in ancient times. Try to better understand who he is as a god; the view of him you're describing to me comes across as being rather black and white and disregards all of his other domains and aspects.

You need to know, Nonny, that I am someone who believes that the gods can and do love us. I believe that they can and do support us. I also believe they can and do make mistakes or upset us sometimes, but that doesn't make them (or us) evil, bad, or wrong. I believe that Hermes loves me and all his worshippers (and even others who don't actively worship him, I bet), but that's just my belief, similar to how these people talking about random Hermes discourse are simply expressing their beliefs. Remember, Nonny, that these people's beliefs are not facts. They do not dictate your life or your world view or your relationship with Hermes. Only you can decide how those things look for you. So I ask you, what do you believe? What do you believe is true about Hermes? What has he shown and expressed to you personally? How has he treated you? What has he helped you with? What has he done for you? Do you feel happy worshipping him? This is something that you need to settle within yourself. No one but you can give you the answer you're searching for.

Maybe it would also help for you to look into any potential religious or personal trauma you have and see if that is also affecting your relationship with Hermes. I did this a while back, and it was immensely helpful for me personally. I can't say that I ever viewed Hermes as being evil or anything like that, but I did have some trauma that was making me anxious about spirituality and worship in general. I recommend looking into anything that you may be dealing with as well.

If you feel something is not right within your personal relationship with Hermes, that's something you need to directly communicate with him about. Get his opinions, his insight, and even his advice, if you want it. I think it'd really help you to speak with him as directly as you can about this topic. And you know, if you are really having a hard time worshipping this god, then maybe it just isn't meant to work for now, and that's perfectly ok. It's normal not to get along or click with every deity ever. There are some deities I personally don't worship simply because I don't feel we click well, and that's ok. It's the same as how some humans just don't mix with each other well; you simply go your separate ways and continue on.

When it comes to being alone while worshipping Hermes in the community, I do understand how you feel, but to combat those feelings of loneliness, I try to actively surround myself with other blogs and people who worship or venerate Hermes. There are actually quite a lot of blogs on Tumblr that worship him; it's simply a matter of seeking them out intentionally. I don't know how it is on other social media, however. If you use TikTok (specifically PaganTok), I would actually straight-up encourage you to not. Not for spiritual stuff, anyway. People spread misinformation there like a fucking wildfire, and you will find an overabundance of hatred and ignorance in all its forms. I deleted TikTok specifically because of PaganTok, and it was literally the best choice I've ever made for myself. I encourage you to do the same if that is the issue for you.

Anyway, I wish you the best of luck on your journey ahead. I hope this answer helped you in some way. Regardless of what happens with Hermes, I hope you find deities you worship that blend well with you and help you grow as a person. Remember that you are never required to worship a deity if they make you uncomfortable. I feel that's just important to say in general. Gods will be respectful of the fact that you're not, or no longer, interested. They're thousands upon thousands of years old; they have the maturity to accept your rejection respectfully.

No matter what happens, Nonny, you will be ok. Please take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

[nobodyfamousposts]

I take it in lmk au, Adrien eventually realizes Chloe's no good and breaks off their friendship?

Actually, no.

Lego Monkie Kid actually involves a lot about redemption and former enemies becoming allies and maybe even friends. And comparatively speaking, the Demon Bull Family, Spider Queen and her minions, and Macaque have inarguably done worse than Chloe and still managed to get some level of redemption by the end.

I imagine a crossover of the two would allow for greater chance for redemption for Chloe because with the difference in team dynamics, the consequences of distrust from Marinette and potential strained relationships, and MK's encouragement as a civilian rather than heroically, Adrien would realize that Chloe's behavior is problematic and try to push for change rather than a breaking off of the friendship.

Adrien considers Chloe a friend, but he needs to acknowledge that her actions are harmful (most times intentionally so), and that it's not the sort of harm that he can just keep waving off as her being confused, misunderstood, or hurting. Especially when he's disregarding the feelings of others in the process who are also themselves being confused, misunderstood, or hurt as a result of that harm.

It's easier for people like Chloe to be good when they receive consequences for bullying behavior and when they're actually being encouraged to do good. This is part of the reason why the canon's narrative is so harmful: because it's the exact opposite situation where Chloe is being encouraged to bully and do harm while it's her victims who are the ones to either receive consequences or be expected to simply accept the bullying. Chloe not only isn't being dissuaded from continuing to hurt people, but in addition, no one is really doing much to encourage her to be better either.

Chloe in canon is shown to be upset over her lack of friends and knowing that most of the people she knows actually hate her. But she can't seem to recognize that it's a result of her own actions, instead choosing to blame others and scapegoat Marinette in particular.

If Adrien was really Chloe's friend in canon, he should know of Chloe having this issue and these feelings of not having friends and not being liked by anyone. The fact that he not only doesn't seem to be aware of any of this but even adds to it by waffling on whether HE'S even her friend speaks volumes.

In this setup at least, Adrien would have the hero teammates and the kwamis to point out these problems. And MK in particular has experience with friends and calling/being called out when there's a problem. The lesson would be that sometimes being a good friend means telling your friend when they're in the wrong and supporting them in making changes.

Cue Adrien taking steps to help Chloe improve her attitude and her relationships with the classmates. This earnestness would not only help Chloe, but would also improve his own standing and do more to convince Marinette that he is sincere and not just another bully himself.

So yes, the crossover would likely do more to lead up to a Chloe redemption.

[borkthemork]

There were a lot of things that occurred during True Colors, but what I want to focus on is between Andrias and Marcy, and why I find his betrayal to her so upsetting to watch even though we knew the betrayal was inevitable.

We need to focus first on Marcy Wu, the implications the show gave us, and what King Andrias was to her personally.

The show does an amazing job of revealing Marcy’s character bit by bit through her episodes: she tries to appease people through her skills and intellect (her ability to be useful to other people); she becomes a mediator, always attempting to keep herself neutral when conflicts arise; she always had a hard time connecting to others, she isn’t an introvert but there is this barrier in communicating; she takes massive pride in what her skills are and how it defines her; and, ultimately, she is the kind to give and give in an attempt to make others see her worth.

I always pondered why she acted like this, and True Colors gave me the reason through a glimpse into her personal life.

User amphibiasideblog did an amazing job with compiling the implications of Marcy’s leave and insistence on Amphibia. When it comes to Marcy’s parents, there are a lot of implications that their parenting attachment style is so damn bad and hazardous that Marcy would rather go to pure desperate measures rather than be around them.

That gives reason as to why she is so afraid of her friends leaving; they were a genuine branch of support and love that Marcy truly looked at as something worth protecting. They would be there for her, take charge, make sure she was okay, and she cherished it. And her parents were going to take that support system away from her.

So here we must consider the perspective of Marcy when she is introduced to King Andrias. Not only does King Andrias look to be a very appealing and goofy king figure at first, but he does something that is very crucial in garnering Marcy’s trust.

He speaks and communicates to her on a level she understands.

He messages her through well thought-out puzzlegrams.

He goes with her to study extensively on knowledge.

He taught her how to play flipwart and allowed her to win.

He tried to understand what she likes and how she ticks. To him, he was manipulating her to know where her weaknesses and strengths lied, but to Marcy she only saw an adult figure that genuinely encouraged and understood who she was on a deep and personal level.

She wasn’t talked down upon. She wasn’t reprimanded for her interests, her actions, who she was as a person, but encouraged instead. She wasn’t disregarded over her fears and he made sure to validate and understand them. Hell, from what Andrias told us about how she spilled it all over flipwart, she must’ve been vulnerable enough to tell every single fear, worry, and apprehension she had throughout her time in Amphibia. And the king listened, and he gave her an answer.

Look at Marcy’s reactions when Andrias told her that he would’ve done anything to get her to bring the music box. This is the reaction of a thirteen-year-old child realizing that the adult figure she trusted just used her for his own benefits.

This newt, to her, meant so much in parental guidance and care. She believed that she could be her true self around him, that he would embrace her and be the guidance figure that she always needed.

And it all meant nothing to him.

He could’ve kept her secrets but revealed them anyways.

He could’ve omitted his reasons for hurting her but instead reveled in manipulating her.

And every action that Marcy took for parental love meant nothing to him.

[qvid-pro-qvo]

tales from the war room

the monster of a dragon age: inquisition fic that i've been working on that almost no one asked for. special thanks to @hotchseyebrows for being a beta and an encouragement, and to FluffyNinjaLlama on YouTube for an excellent playlist i used as a resource.

a female!inquisitor x cullen rutherford fic. verdanna, the inquisitor, is a dalish mage.

word count: 24,397

rating: mature, for the slow build and burn of something greater than themselves (warnings that apply also apply to the game - canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, as well as a healthy mixture of angst and fluff).

link to the fic on AO3.

-

A familiar face enters the room with Cassandra, and it is here Cullen properly meets the Herald of Andraste.

It was quick, the first time he met her, but the impression was immediate. A commander is nothing without his soldiers, after all, and she did her part in saving the ones with him at the Temple that fateful day.

“You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra confirms, nodding to him. He meets her gaze before shifting to look at the elven woman in front of him.

“It was only for a moment on the battlefield. I’m pleased you survived,” he offers.

Josephine and Leliana introduce and reintroduce themselves, offering themselves as ambassador and spymaster. But the pleasantries are over quickly, as war looms on the horizon. Thus the war room becomes such, and the first meeting begins.

“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” Cassandra tells the Herald.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana answers, too quickly for Cullen’s liking.

“And I still disagree,” he responds, turning to face her, brow furrowed. The Herald’s gaze follows them both. “The templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into the mark -” Cassandra offers, but Cullen just straightens his spine.

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so -”

“Pure speculation.”

The dismissal is clear, and Cullen finds himself defensive. “I was a templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Josephine lifts a hand and turns to the Herald, her tone firm. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us, yet. The chantry has denounced the Inquisition. And you, specifically.”

“Didn’t take long at all for them to find an excuse to hate an elf,” she responds, voice dry.

“That’s not the entirety of it any longer,” Josephine clarifies. She holds her scroll with all of her newfound authority and hardwon knowledge. “Some are calling you - a Dalish mage - the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you. It limits our options. Approaching the templars or mages for help is currently out of the question.”

Cullen can’t help the way his mouth feels glued shut at the revelation. Disparaging the mages, as a former templar, in front of an elven mage - clearly a misstep. But when he looks at the woman before him, there appears no ill will. Simply observation, curiosity. A glint of humor in her eye.

“And how am I the Herald of Andraste?”

The question is a fair one. One Cassandra answers easily, stating the facts - a woman coming from a hole in the sky with a woman silhouetted behind her. But even as the Seeker explains, the logic in her mind clear, it is obvious that the Herald doesn’t quite see the connection. Her face pinches a little.

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading -”

“Which we have not.” Cassandra interrupts Leliana, eyes narrowed at her, but Left Hand simply lifts her chin.

“The point is everyone is talking about you.”

At this point Cullen feels inclined to step in. His focus on the Herald has revealed just what he suspected - the word the Inquisition has created seems to weigh on her mind, judging by the way her brow is now furrowed, her jaw clenched.

“It’s quite a title, isn’t it?” he offers. Tilts his head. “How do you feel about that?”

It’s an olive branch, he supposes. One for his misstep earlier, so hastily disregarding the Herald’s own kind. It seems to catch her by surprise as she looks at him.

“It’s… a little unsettling,” she admits.

He can’t help his chuckle, and smiles as she does, a little quirk of her lips. “I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

But no matter how she feels, Leliana and Josephine make it clear. The hope she inspires is equal to the fear she instills.

“So if I wasn’t with the Inquisition?”

Cullen stops that train of thought with a head shake and the simple truth. “Let’s be honest: they would have censured us no matter what.”

The next steps are decided. Leliana tells of Mother Giselle, a Chantrywoman willing to speak with and hear out the cause of the Inquisition - even if the face is one of a declared heretic, elven mage or otherwise. Cullen offers his own advice, to expand the influence of the Inquisition where she can, while she is in the Hinterlands and wherever she travels. And Josephine is clear in telling her that the more agents they recruit, the more their reach spreads, hopefully for the betterment of Ferelden and beyond.

Thus concludes the first meeting of the Herald and her advisors, and the war room christened. Cullen moves to follow Leliana and Josephine as they leave with Cassandra, but what stops him is the stillness of the Herald, her eyes following him closely.

“Do you need something?” he asks.

“No, no,” she says, but her gaze dips. He sees the light shine on her tattoos, the gentle glow almost making the red markings fade into her skin. There’s something… fiery about them, and just as he thinks it, the supernatural shine seems to dim. “Sorry. Just… thinking.”

Curiosity hits him again. He takes a step toward her. “About?”

She still seems hesitant, just as she did before. But there is a beat less before she answers, a sign Cullen takes as positive. “No one… really asked me how I was doing. I suppose I was just shocked it was the Templar who would be the first.”

His brows lift in surprise, before understanding sinks in. The irony isn’t lost on him, as well as the reality. The title she was given overwhelms all else - even her feelings on the title in the first place. With a little hum, he shrugs.

“I simply know if I was straddled with the hope of Andraste and her followers, especially as someone not of the faith… well. I perhaps would be feeling the pressure of that title, too. The good thing is that the people you have met are here to help moving forward, including myself,” he tells her, offering what he hopes is reassurance.

Her pinched brow seems to release, and her features smooth. It suits her, the relief, release. “Thank you, Commander.” She turns from him, moves to leave the War Room.

“Of course, Herald.” And then something rather embarrassing hits him. Even he is not immune to the hyperbole surrounding the face of their cause. He coughs, swallowing, and when she looks back with a raised brow, he smiles again. His face feels warm. “I regret to say that’s the only title I know you by - so perhaps some of the pressure could be relieved if more knew your name.”

Both of her brows lift, but then she’s smiling, a big grin that makes him feel stunned to his spot. She turns to him, gives a small bow, and nods to him. “Verdanna, of the Clan Lavellan. And as I said before, it’s a pleasure, Commander.”

“Verdanna,” he repeats, with a smile he can’t help. He bows back, and hears her little chuckle. “Cullen Rutherford. And the pleasure is mine.”

She goes, then. Leaves with a grace in her step, an ease to her movement. Something otherworldly, something magical. It seems cliche, considering the rumors about her, but for a moment he fully believes them all. Blessed by Andraste seems right. Fair.

He’s glad to be serving the cause, and glad that she is the one leading it.

(With further pressure, he might admit, even if she wasn’t the Herald, she would be one he wouldn’t soon forget, that smile in his thoughts more than he’d care to say.)

-

The Herald returns with Cassandra beside her, her steps into the Chantry still hesitant, uncertain. Whether because of the religious banners on the wall or the weight of her title, it’s uncertain, but Josephine meets her regardless, urgent.

“It’s good you’ve returned,” she greets them, as Cullen and Leliana strut towards the travelers. “We… heard of your encounter.”

Cassandra is mystified, the Herald similarly so. “You heard?”

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course,” Leliana says simply, Cullen close behind.

Cullen’s voice is strong as he looks at them both. His gaze fixes on the Herald. “It’s a shame the Templars have abandoned their senses as well as the capital.” For a moment, he’s grateful that neither have any clear injuries or signs of weariness, but the urgency of the meeting doesn’t fade.

The Herald meets his eyes and nods, the standard greeting between the two of them. She starts to move past him, her shoulder brushing his arm. “At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now,” she says to them. Perhaps even to him, as they all fall in step.

“Do we?” Cassandra says, voice weary. “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.” Cullen can’t help but think the same, the report from Val Royeaux troubling in more ways than one. Striking a Sister? Abandoning the city, the Chantry, all together?

“He has taken the Order somewhere,” Leliana says, pensive, “but to do what? My reports have been… very odd.”

A sudden rush of defensiveness floods Cullen. He finds himself addressing Leliana and the Herald, as if to stand up for his former brothers in front of them. In front of her. “We must look into it. I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.”

But it’s Josephine he doesn’t expect, and her suggestion comes in a calm dissent. “Or the Herald could simply go to meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead.”

Cullen whirls on her, walking backwards for a moment before the steps, eyes narrowed. His years of training, the Templar influence, shades his words before he can soften them. “You think the mage rebellion is more united?” he asks, voice sharp. “It could be ten times worse!”

But the Herald, a mage herself, disagrees. She steps forward, the face of their mission, and looks to them all. “I could at least find out what the mages want.”

If anything Cassandra looks even more exhausted. “No doubt what they’ve always wanted. Support for their cause.” But Josephine’s voice echoes the Herald’s sentiment, and even with Cassandra’s warning, the Herald doesn’t hesitate.

“So it’ll be dangerous,” she states, “but I’ve been in danger since I’ve walked out of the Fade.”

A… very fair point. Cullen holds his tongue for a moment more because of it.

“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave--” Cassandra starts.

Josephine is quick to rebut. “The same thing could be said about the Templars.”

Cullen’s eyes follow the discussion, before he lets out a little sigh. The ambassador had a point, whether or not he wanted to admit it. “That’s true enough. But right now, I’m not certain we have enough influence to even approach the Order safely.”

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places,” Cassandra relents, turns to the elven woman still shoulder to shoulder with her. “That’s something you can help with.”

The Herald seems to pause. It’s as if Cassandra’s suggestion has taken her by surprise, but she lifts her chin to appraise the room. “A Dalish mage, spreading the good word of the Inquisition,” she hums. “And we’re sure this won’t make us seem… desperate? Or worse?”

The tone is light, but there’s a valid concern there, and Cullen finds himself watching the Herald’s eyes. She doesn’t turn to face him, but he doesn’t miss the way her brow furrows, nor the shift in her feet. Nerves, from her, seem so foreign, already her legend larger than life.

“Not at all,” Leliana counters. “But you are the face of our cause. There is no one better placed to convince those around us of the value of the Inquisition. And the more people we get on our side, the quicker we can truly begin the fight to close the Breach.”

“But surely there are others?” she tries. The red of her tattoos shine in the torchlight, and Cullen sees every line of them, the focus on the forehead. “To help the people see the value.”

“That is what we are here for, as your advisors,” Cullen says. And when she looks up, his voice softens. He sees the concern. The fear. The hesitance. “But you, Herald… you can give this… organization a voice. A name. An understanding to the people, a cause. As the Herald of Andraste, your voice has merit and value. More than the rest of us.”

Cullen is shocked by how much he means what he says. It’s earnest, firm. But that doesn’t discount the way the reality of the situation settles over them all. An elven mage, called the Herald of Andraste by the people, and the Herald is the first to laugh. When Cullen looks over, her eyes meet his. If he blinked, he would’ve missed the little wink.

But he doesn’t blink at all, and so his cheeks pinken at the motion.

“Your Maker help us all, then, Commander.”

-

Cullen can’t help the way his jaw twitches. His days with the Templars, with the Circle, sits heavy in his head, and as he looks at Cassandra, he feels… betrayed. How can they all not see the risk?

“Never mind the problem of the mages,” he finally relents, holding his arm tight against him, one hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes don’t look towards the Herald, but he sees the way she stiffens. “But the truth of the matter is we don’t have the manpower to take the castle, anyway. Either we find another way in, or we give up this nonsense and go get the Templars.”

He has tried his best, truly, to watch his tongue when talking about mages. He’s told her himself - there were plenty of mages he judged without cause, and plenty more who walk the world without incident. But he can’t help the way it slips out, the problem of the mages… even in front of her, a mage in her own right, and a brilliant one at that.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister,” Cassandra shoots back, and Cullen’s jaw tightens further. “That cannot be allowed to stand.”

Josephine pipes up. The letter from Alexius spread on the table before them all. “He asks for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

The next sound is laughter. A little chuckle. Cullen lifts his gaze to the Herald who is very carefully avoiding his eyes now. “Isn’t that kind of him. And what does Alexius say about me?”

There is no humor in Leliana’s voice. “He is so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you.”

“Not this again,” Josephine sighs out, but Cullen can’t help reemphasizing his point.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults.” When he turns back to the Herald, his face softens. “If you go in there, you’ll die. And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts.” His voice matches it, and when it does, he finally gets her to look up at him. “I won’t allow it.”

She looks back at him, steady. Eyes narrowed at him. He feels the weight of his stance on the mages, what he knows to be true, hit him with all the force of Cassandra’s shield. As well as something else. His determination to protect her from death, as well as the cause. But she doesn’t seem moved by his urging, simply lifts her chin as Leliana steps in. “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

Josephine brushes it off with a wave of her quill. Leliana’s eyes narrow at her, but she does not back down. “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden? It would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

“But the magister -” Cassandra tries.

Cullen stops her before she begins. His eyes are narrowed now. “Has outplayed us,” Cullen tells them all. It echoes in the empty space.

The final tally is three for, two against. But Cullen and Josephine’s words settle over the room like a shroud. Energy ripped away from the three of them. Bitterness and frustration in his and Josephine’s words. It’s the first time Cullen feels out of step with the Herald. The first time he feels… uncertain.

And then the Herald speaks. And she does it with fierce determination, a glint in her eye, her mage’s staff on her back. Cullen finds him just as aware of it as he is her. He’s always so aware of her.

“We can’t just give up. There has to be something we can do,” she insists.

“We cannot accept defeat now,” Cassandra agrees, looking around the room. “There must be a solution.”

The Herald pushes on. Cullen finds himself ready to interrupt before she fixes him with a glare. It is meant to silence him, and it succeeds. “Other than the main gate, there’s got to be another way into the castle. A sewer? A water course? Something.”

There’s a brief pause. From everyone in the room. Cullen can’t help the furrow to his brow - the Herald hasn’t ceased her glaring, and he feels the need to shift in his boots. “There’s nothing that I know of that would work,” he tells her, voice less antagonistic. Placating. She doesn’t seem swayed. His previous words leave a sour taste in his own mouth.

Then. Leliana speaks. “Wait.” The whole war room turns to face her, and Cullen can breathe again. “There is a secret passage into the castle. An escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send our agents through.”

“Too risky,” Cullen counters, sighing. “Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.”

“That’s why we need a distraction,” Leliana responds easily, addressing the Herald. “Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly.”

It all clicks for Cullen, then. “While they’re focused on Lavellan, we break the magister’s defenses. It could work, but… it’s a huge risk.”

“Fortunately. You’ll have help.”

A new voice is heard, a surprise to all. Smug, cocky…and distinctly Northern. It makes Cullen’s jaw clench as the doors open, a tall Tevinter stepping forward, mustache curled, hair coiffed.

The dislike settles instantaneously in the commander’s soul. But even the disdain pointed at him from Cullen and Cassandra doesn't stop his stride into the room, the agent with him informing them of his presence.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help,” the Tevinter tells them, and his eyes fall onto the Herald with ease. Cullen’s chin lifts. Does he know who he approaches? “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

The presence of the Tevinter. Journeying into Redcliffe, surrounded by enemy mages, a man who has studied the craft for decades. The commander feels his whole body tense, glances around the room before turning to the Herald. “The plan puts you in the most danger,” he tells her. “We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

It isn’t even a moment later she responds. Voice firm. “Bold of you to assume you can order me at all, but I understand the point.” The Herald’s smirk is clear, and she looks toward the mage like she knows him. It’s almost… warm. “We’ll go to Redcliffe. Cassandra and Vivienne will join me and Dorian.”

Dorian. So she knows the man. It doesn’t ease Cullen’s suspicions - if anything it’s too convenient.

“That’s the plan?” Cullen asks, trying to help her see reason. He wants to turn to the other advisors for backup, assistance, but her eyes are already on the mage again before he can ask further.

“I, for one, can’t wait,” Pavus says. He looks to the Herald with an expectation. “What excursion could be more delightful than going to stop a Tevinter cult?”

And she, much to the commander’s surprise, laughs. It’s boisterous, and loud, and Pavus’s smirk is almost as quick as hers. “Well, then. Let’s get you some armor, Dorian.”

“What? I’ll have you know I’m wearing the finest the North has to offer.”

“How long has it been since the North has seen Southern lands? Come on. Let’s get you something that will actually hold up to a sword.”

Dorian’s laugh matches the Herald’s, and the two of them walk out together - there is more laughter down the hall as they talk.

“Tevinter cult?” Cassandra says, and her jaw twitches with her forlorn anticipation. “The Herald certainly knows how to pick her battles.”

“And her companions,” Leliana offers as well, though there is a hidden joy in her tone.

“His name is Dorian Pavus,” Cassandra fills them in, “and it seems that is… how he is all the time.”

“Our work with the Imperium is minimal,” Josephine says, “but I recognize the surname. Another Pavus is a part of the Magisterium in Tevinter. The house itself is quite powerful.”

Mage. Tevinter. Connected. A recipe for the disaster. Cullen feels his shoulders lift, almost to help his gaze follow the elf down the long stretch of hall to the rest of Haven. “Pavus,” he murmurs, voice bitter. “We must keep an eye on him.”

“If anything, the Inquisitor certainly will,” Leliana intrudes again. There is nothing to miss in her tone and this time it’s enough for Cullen to scowl. He turns his head downward to the map, to hide it, but he can’t help the feeling that Leliana’s keen eyes are on him anyway.

-

“It’s not a matter for debate,” Cullen tells the gathered council, eyes narrowed. “There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared.”

Josephine cuts in, tilting her chin up at him. “If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst.”

It’s then the Herald approaches. Before he can stop himself, their eyes meeting prompts his anger. “What were you thinking? Turning the mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!”

The Herald’s voice stays steady, even as Cullen’s grows louder. “We need them to close the Breach. It’s not going to work if we make enemies of them.”

“I know we need them for the Breach, but they could do just as much damage as the demons themselves!” He can’t help his indignance, but his memories of the Circle seem to cloud his vision, his mind. He can barely think of anything else.

“Don’t you think I would know that?” Her voice seems to echo around him, clearing his thoughts. He doesn’t shake with it but feels buffeted by the sudden force, and is reminded suddenly and clearly how much of a mage the Herald truly is.

No one else seems to notice. Cassandra pushes on, her hand reaching to gently touch Cullen’s elbow as she turns to him. “I may not agree with the decision, but I support it. The sole point of the Herald’s mission was to gain the mages’ aid, and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks,” the Tevinter Pavus interrupts, appearing in his sudden, loud manner. “And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments.”

Cullen can’t help how his eyes roll in response, in part because his anger still simmered beneath the surface. Fresh and hot and vibrant, even as he reels from the Herald’s voice in his head.

Cassandra turns, slowly to face the mage, voice bordering on that same frustration and anger as Cullen at the interruption. “Closing the Breach is all that matters.”

The quiet agreement from the Herald settles in all of them. “I got a taste of the consequences if we fail. Let’s make sure we don’t.”

Solemn. Haunted. That is the Herald Verdanna’s response. Cullen finds himself turning to her. Not even Cassandra’s confidence seems to sway her, and he sees the way that her eyes drop as Leliana takes over.

“We should look into the things you saw in this ‘dark future,’” the spymaster urges. “The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?”

Pavus sounds as unbothered as ever, even joking. But it seems to bring a smile to the Herald’s lips, something that Cullen feels a hit of something about. Something he doesn’t have time to process. Not fully, but Leliana’s words from last time settle in his head as the Tevinter speaks. “Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone.”

Already Cullen sees the way Pavus is wooing her, and it makes jaw ache with tightness. It comes out in his response. Eager to please, reaching out to her, desperate to pull her back to the side of the Inquisition, not the Imperium. “One battle at a time. It’s going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. Let’s take this to the War Room. Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.”

But when she jokes, it’s not toward him. She smiles at Pavus, instead, and it feels quite like getting slapped. “And I hoped to sit out the assault on the Breach. Take a nap. Maybe go for a walk.”

“What is it they say? ‘No rest for the wicked’?” Cullen attempts again. He can’t help the way he tries, perhaps his smirk too wide with it.

Fortunately, it’s the right thing to say, judging by the way her lip curls up for a moment. Unfortunately, it’s fleeting, and once again Pavus interrupts, unwelcome. “I’ll skip the war council. But I would like to see this Breach up close, if you don’t mind.”

No matter what his joke got, Dorian’s words get an even bigger smile from Verdanna. “Then you’re… staying.”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? The South is so charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces.”

She grins at that, warm. Heartfelt. Cullen wonders what happened in the future, what’s happening now. “There’s no one I’d rather be stranded in time with, future or present.”

Pavus matches her enthusiasm. “Excellent choice. But let’s not get stranded again anytime soon.”

Their back and forth sets the commander’s teeth on edge, and Cullen has to interrupt at some point, to preserve himself. But it earns him a look from the Herald as he does. “I’ll begin preparations to march on the summit. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory.”

“I’ll assist,” Cassandra says.

“At least there’s progress,” Leliana offers, turning to the War Room, but when she looks at Verdanna, her eyes are not met. “Herald?”

There’s a pause. “Before we meet, I think I will take that walk. In a moment, Ambassador. Lady Leliana. Commander.”

“Meet us there when you’re ready,” Josephine says with understanding, and then the Herald is gone into the dusk.

The day ends and the next begins, and Cullen finds himself anxious. He supposes that he should expect days of preparation before an attempt at the Breach, but the way her eyes regarded him at their last meeting - his stomach churns with the implications.

Never mind the fact that when he did see her yesterday, it was with Pavus at her side. Joking together, if her laughter was to be believed. Avoiding Cullen’s own gaze as they walked from fire to fire, the Thedas natives avoiding the Dalish Mage and her Tevinter like the plague.

But this is the next day, and Cullen has not seen the Herald once. He finds himself walking throughout the makeshift stronghold to soothe his mind, but as he approaches the bridges with the remnants of that first battle, he finds himself looking at Verdanna.

Her eyes gaze out over the frozen lake, hair braided back to keep it from whipping in her face with the cold. Her clothes seem too thin for the weather, but he sees the fur lining just peek out over the top of her collar as he approaches.

The sun sets. Even more chill ready to settle in their bones. And yet he finds himself no longer moving, stopping at the sight of her profile.

“Commander,” she eventually calls out to him, when the tension between them grows too thick. “I suppose you found me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he tells her, taking a step back. “If it’s better for me to go--”

“No.” Her voice is a command, and he stops from turning toward Haven once more. “Stay. It’s all right. The view isn’t mine to hoard. I was just… thinking.”

He doesn’t take another step back, instead going back to neutral. Taking a step towards her seems too daring, but he does manage one toward the stone railing, leaning against it as he does, hand at his side. “There has been… a lot to think about.”

Her chuckle is dull. “Oh, Commander. You have no idea.”

There’s a new look in her eyes. As if already she has seen too much. It doesn’t take too many leaps in logic to realize what’s haunting her, especially as she fiddles with the amulet around her neck. Another pendant in her thoughts.

A few minutes pass. Silent between them. Eventually, his guilt from the day prior overwhelms him, and he stands up straight to bow his head to her. “Herald, I sincerely apologize if what I said at our last meeting offended you. Even though I left the Templars, I still - I still remember every moment of my time with them. If my disagreement upset you --”

“I appreciate you saying what you mean, Commander,” she tells him. “And I don’t mind opinions. But don’t you think that explaining the dangers of magic to a mage seems a bit… unnecessary?”

He finds himself lifting his chin. Defensive as he steps closer to where she stands against the rail. “No offense, Herald, but I believe you just came from a situation where a mage didn’t fully reckon with the dangers of his magic.”

“You know what I mean,” Verdanna snaps. Her tone is sharp, but not nearly as biting as he’s sure it could be. The exhaustion seems to undercut it. “The elves have had magic for a long time. We know how to handle it.”

“You know how to handle it,” he counters.

“I meant ‘we,’” she growls out. Pushing off of the stone wall she was leaning against. “My clan has managed it just fine for as long as I’ve been around.”

He sighs, moving to take another step towards her. “And your clan has been around for longer than you’ve been around, Lady Lavellan. But I don’t want to argue with you. Not when you’re obviously…” He pauses to find a gentle word, but finds himself spurred to speech by her glare. “Hurting. From your journey.”

Moments stretch again between them. A standoff. But instead of pushing past him, she simply sinks back against the gray stone, sighing and gazing out again over the frozen lake.

“It was… horrible, Cullen,” Verdanna finally whispers. Her head drops, and one hand lifts to cradle her face. Pushing at her brows, rubbing at her nose. “All of the people around me, withering away. Turning into red lyrium. Going mad. All because I abandoned them. I abandoned all of you.”

All of you. It echoes in his head. “Did you see me?” Cullen can’t help but ask it as he stares out over the rest of Haven with the Inquisitor. “In that future?”

“No… but it wasn’t hard to imagine what happened to the commander of the Inquisition’s forces.” Her voice is hollow, as she stares out over the tents and buildings below the Chantry. His gaze follows hers, but he doesn’t see what fascinates her about the horizon. A few heartbeats pass. “Why do you hate the mages so much?” she finally whispers, and Cullen’s gaze whips toward her.

The question catches him by surprise, though he considers that it shouldn’t. The way he’s acted - he finds himself only able to focus on the great doors to Haven. “I don’t hate the mages. I know it seems I do, but it’s not the mages themselves, but what magic can bring with it. I’ve seen too much destruction to turn a blind eye.”

She lets out a small hum. “So why am I different? You didn’t hesitate to lead the forces of the Inquisition. Behind a Dalish mage as your Herald.”

There are so many reasons, Cullen thinks, looking at her. The light of the sun meets the light of the Breach, the sickly green glow colliding with the warm orange light. It makes the markings on her forehead shine. Her eyes that disarming vibrant green. The Anchor. Andraste herself. The Rifts across the country, the inspiration she brings. So many reasons why Verdanna is different, and yet he finds himself fighting warmth in his face. “You’re in control,” he settles on, voice soft. “And I know what it looks like when someone… isn’t.”

Her laugh is hollow as she runs her hand along her staff. Her thin fingers send sparks along the grip, crackles of purple that makes the hairs on Cullen’s arm stand on end under his metal armor. “I suppose I understand that,” she hums. “But the future of a whole group of people can’t be dependent on how you’re feeling day-to-day, Commander. I need to know that you’ll treat these people with kindness… abominations or no.” But any and all frustration seems to wither in her throat, and she simply sighs. Rolls her jaw. “At any rate… these people are in our camp now, and I’m going to ensure they’re taken care of. I expect my advisors to want the same.”

“I would expect no less of you,” Cullen responds, turning to face her. And when her eyes meet his in mild surprise, he can’t help the way his face flushes. “Or the Inquisition. You’ve started this journey by showing a lot of kindness to all you meet. That won’t be lost on the mages, or the rest of our forces. You show a grace that many don’t possess, including myself, and that’s -- you’re…”

There’s a pause. A small pause, but heavy. Awkward, now, thanks to Cullen’s ever so quick tongue. He tries to rectify it, but the words come out stuttering. “I’m - ahem. Blast, I’m sorry, Your Worship. For what I said before and… the mess I’m making of things now.”

She can barely look at him as she stands straight once more, but speaks anyway, interrupting. “Don’t be… I appreciate the words. I just - I saw what happens if we fail, Cullen. Who I lose. And in that future, mage or apostate, Templar or bandit, it doesn’t matter. It all crumbles before this… ‘Elder One’.”

He follows her lead. Lifts up from the stone. But instead of pulling away, letting her walk towards the Chantry alone, he finds himself reaching for her hand. Catching it. The one the mark rests in.

“I - I meant what I said in there,” he tells her. Watches as those brilliant green eyes lift to meet his. But his grip doesn’t falter with her gaze, and he makes sure she’s listening. “None of this matters without your mark. Without you. There’s more than one reason you’re in the War Room with us, Verdanna. You are more than your mark.”

There it is. Her little smile. The curl of her lips, the scar on them that almost, if he goes a little mad with it, matches his own. He wonders how she got it. Wonders how many more she has, how many more she’ll get on this journey.

But for now, he gets her smile, which slowly grows to a grin. The squeeze of her fingers, the warmth of her hand and the mark.

“Thank you, Cullen.” Her hand drops from his (too soon, his traitorous mind shouts), but he savors the memory of warmth while he can. And before she turns to walk away, she chuckles. “More than one reason.”

His brows furrow. “What?”

“Well, you said there’s a reason I’m in the room where it all happens,” she offers, grin teasing now. “I figured it was just because of my pretty face, but with the Mark and my presence --”

Cullen’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. “I - I did say -- but I didn’t mean to imply --”

That earns him a laugh. Low and warm, the same warmth of the Anchor, of her hand in his. The same warmth that seems to settle low in his belly as he looks at her face holding such joy. “I was hoping you implied, Commander.” And with a wink, she turns away, and he feels the color of his face surge as he watches her stroll towards the chantry. “See you back in the War Room, yes?”

At first he is simply left behind. He watches as she waves her hand, and she is suddenly pushed across the bridge toward the edge, all that closer to Haven. Another blink, and she is gone. He, however, stands on the bridge toward the Breach, with his mouth a little agape.

The chantry. Oh, Maker. He’ll have to sprint to make it…

With another few curses under his breath, he begins the hike.

Back in the War Room, indeed.

-

He stands with the other advisors, all of their gazes turned towards one mark on the table. One mark. One focus. The Breach.

“It’s time,” Cassandra says, looking amongst them. Looking lastly at the Herald. She stands next to her, close, eyes narrowed as she leans forward to press her palms on the table. “Are you prepared?”

“Our army is strong. Sound,” Verdanna murmurs. She seems to squint at the Breach, and Cullen watches as she clenches and unclenches her hand. He wonders if it aches. “I just wonder -”

Leliana lifts her hand. “The scouts have already searched ahead. What they see is reassuring, and the Breach awaits your arrival. Closing it now is the right way to go.”

“The best of the mages are ready, Herald. The best of our soldiers are ready. But you must be sure you’re ready for the assault on the Breach,” Cullen says to her, tilting his head as she looks up at him. He clears his throat for a moment, gesturing toward the map once more. “We cannot know how you’ll be affected.”

At last, Verdanna nods. Something seems to be hidden in her eyes, something Cullen wants to squint at himself. But when she stands, her shoulders pull back, and she steps back to twirl her staff, once, then twice. “All right. I’ll get Dorian, and the Bull. We’ll go before the sun sets… arrive when it’s dark.”

Everyone nods. Cassandra gestures to the door, and Verdanna looks up at her. There’s a silent moment, and then the Herald shakes her head.

“In a moment, Cassandra. I’ll come gather you all when we’re about to leave.”

She nods. Cullen blinks, and the two of them are alone, the War Room deathly quiet.

He takes a step around the table. Starts to move toward the door himself while she looks at the map. He figures it’s another moment where she prefers to be alone, a moment where she should tackle it herself. There’s drills to run, things to prepare on his end. After a moment, though, he hears her clear her throat, turns and sees her looking at him with that same narrowed, pinched gaze.

And then he realizes.

She’s nervous.

He pauses, at the door. Still reaches for where he can push. “If you want, Verdanna, I can give you some time. The Inquisition can. We don’t need to go today. We can… wait.”

“Would you wait?” she asks, standing up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. When he pauses again, she smirks. “That’s a no.”

“I think the sooner we close the Breach, the better. However we can,” he tells her. “With whoever we can.”

That earns him a little smile. It makes his heart stop, with how bright it suddenly is. She laughs a little too, and he realizes a bit too late that it makes him stand straighter. “You mean me,” she responds.

“I certainly don’t mean anyone else.”

“I’ll tell Cassandra. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled about being discredited so easily,” she teases him, and he feels his cheeks go pink. It seems to always happen with her. She laughs, and he laughs, and for a moment her pinched brows relax. She looks at ease when she does that, and the freckles from her sunned features suddenly stand out on her tanned skin. But as soon as it disappears, it comes back, and he suddenly has the urge to lift a hand, push her brows back with his thumb -

“Cullen?” she says. He realizes Verdanna’s been asking him something, and he finds his cheeks once more flushing. Always around her. Why is it always around her? “Is everything all right?”

“I apologize, Herald,” he says back. Blinks a couple of times to look at her more clearly. “What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you think we’re ready.” He has a feeling the “we” is hypothetical, as it probably was the first time she asked him.

“I do,” he tells her, firmly. Moves closer to stand next to her. “I think you’re more than ready. I think now is the time, and with you there, we have as great a chance as we’ll ever have.”

“I said we,” she tells him, a little quirk of her lips.

He reaches to squeeze her anchor as it’s flat on the table. The briefest of touches. “I know. But I said you, Herald, and I mean it.”

She lifts up fully. Faces him. It feels the closest they’ve ever stood, especially with her discerning eyes. They seem to rake him over the coals, seem to burn him with how deep they look into his heart, and just like that, the feeling is gone. He wonders if he’s been bewitched, knows the answer to that question even as he asks it. Perhaps she is bewitching… but it’s just because she’s Verdanna. “I’ll have you behind me, won’t I, Commander?” she finally asks.

“Always,” he responds immediately. He doesn’t know why that of all things seems to ease her, but… then again, maybe he does.

“Then,” she murmurs, turning to the War Room door with ease, chin lifting as her hand brushes her braid back behind her ear, “what are we waiting for? To arms, Cullen.”

“To arms, Herald,” he whispers, and just like that, she is gone again, in the blink of an eye.

-

There is joy, there is laughter. There is dancing, and singing and everything that can be praised about Verdanna is. There is hyperbole, and teasing, and suddenly everyone seems to be smiling. Even Cassandra has something akin to a smirk on her face, one that Varric does not hesitate to point out.

At Haven, the delight only grows, as those who were there fill in those who were not. The tavern is full of those taking a drink or two or many, many more, and Cullen walks through them with a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt since this all started. But with every step, there’s one face he seeks, one he doesn’t find, not in the chaos of the hold.

He hopes she is celebrating. Thinks that she deserves it, along with the best rest she can get. If he finds her, he plans to convince her of that. But there’s a sadness in him, a selfish one. One that wonders if after this, Verdanna will need his counsel at all. Wonders if she’ll want it, or if those… feelings he’s been harboring for too long will simply need the universal remedy of time.

And then the horns blow. The bells ring. Any other thoughts vanish as he whips his head around to the sources. Some yelling from beyond the walls. A scout rushes to him.

“Ser, there’s an enemy force approachin’!” she yells over the noise. “It’s coming right for us! More than our numbers, and with monsters in their midst, and no banners to report!”

“No banners?” he asks her, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“I triple asked, Commander.” Her voice is slightly panicked, and he swallows.

“All right. Report to Leliana, go!” With a turn towards those below, he gestures toward the trebuchets. “To arms!” he yells out to his men. “To arms, brethren, prepare yourselves!”

“Cullen?” he hears behind him, whips his head around. It’s Verdanna, and he knows the rest he hopes for her won’t come just yet.

“One watchguard reporting,” he says quickly, turning to her and then Cassandra. “It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asks, but Cullen just shakes his head.

“None.”

Suddenly the door is slammed upon. Cullen draws his sword, but the panicked voice behind it insists it won’t come in. He wants to reach out to stop Verdanna, but she moves forward to open it just as he steps out to stop her.

It’s a massacre outside, a dozen bodies dead in front of the gates. All with armor Cullen recognizes, as if he sees it through a fog. So familiar, and yet…

“I’m Cole, and I came to warn you,” a voice says. Cullen blinks, and before him and Verdanna a young man stands. His hat covers his eyes, and Cullen lifts his sword as he approaches the Herald. “To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.”

“What is this?” Verdanna asks, lifting her hand to stop Cullen. “What’s going on?”

“The templars come to kill you” is the only answer. A sudden rage fills the commander, indignation as he looks to Verdanna with bewilderment. The armor is seen more clearly now, a defiled Templar’s garb.

“Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?” he shouts, and the Herald shakes her head in shock.

“I don’t -”

The man called Cole simply shakes his head, and Cullen sees eyes paler than moonlight peek out at him. “The Red Templars went to the Elder One.” He whirls to Verdanna, who takes a step back. “You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.”

“His mages?” Her voice seems to shake with something like frustration, but Cole shakes his head again and points up and out.

“There.”

Suddenly fog at the top lifts. Cullen squints to the peak of a ridge, and sees a man he knows all too well. It makes his stomach churn for a moment, eyes that seem so hollow, and behind him, the fog collects to form… someone… something.

“I know that man,” Cullen tells them both, voice soft. “But this Elder One -”

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole warns.

The forces are clear now. Cullen sees what the scout saw, thousands of soldiers marching towards them in formation. No banners to be seen, simply red detailing that glows with an unholy light. One that makes his blood chill in his veins.

Verdanna’s voice brings his gaze back to the two in front of him. “Cullen! Give me a plan to help the people of Haven! Anything you have!”

He looks out toward the forces again, and feels his jaw click as he rolls it. “Haven - it’s no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster - him - then we must control the battle. Use the trebuchets, hit that force with everything you absolutely can.”

She nods. Her gaze sharpens, and he hears the sound of people running up behind him. Soldiers, mages, the team around Verdanna as she stands at the ready.

“Mages!” he calls out, no hesitation as he looks toward the forces below. “Protect the people! You have sanction to engage them! That man will not make it easy, but this is for your lives!”

There’s shouting. There’s yelling. Cullen wields his sword again, and points it forward. “Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives, for all of us! To arms! Attack!”

But it’s not enough. Cullen watches the trebuchets rocket off their loads, watches an avalanche swarm the soldiers below. But from above, there’s a new fight, a damned dragon circling their heads and blowing its breath at their forces.

In the end, they slam the gates closed, and Cullen begins leading people away from the entryway. “We need everyone back to the Chantry. It’s the only building that will hold against that beast. At this point just make them work for it.”

“I’m going to clear the camp!” Verdanna calls to him, and when he whirls to face her, his eyes are wide.

“Herald -”

But there’s no fear in her eyes. Only resolution. “Keep leading the others, I’m going to clear the camp,” she states again, voice firm. Dorian nods behind her, along with the Bull and Cassandra. A sudden flash of light comes from her staff and surrounds the party she brings with her. “Go, Cullen! While there’s still time!”

“Be safe,” he says immediately, but her nod does not reassure him.

“Go, commander.”

There’s moments that pass him by next. Dragging a soldier through the doors with his screams of pain in his ear. The sound of swords hitting against his own. Whimpers from people in the depths of the stone walls, echoing around. It’s only when Cullen breaks out of it to the first floor, to see Verdanna once more through the doors, that time seems to slow.

“Herald!” he calls out, rushing towards her. He scans her body, sees no injuries, and manages a breath of relief for that small mercy. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” the strange boy says, eyes up at Cullen and Verdanna.

Cullen feels frustration overwhelm him once again. “I don’t care what it looks like,” he snaps. “It has cut a path for that damned army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

But once again the boy speaks, and the commander turns to him with a glare. His words are anything but quaint - these strike fear at the heart of him. “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

“If you know why he wants me, just say it!” Verdanna tells him, eyes narrowed. But the boy simply turns to Roderick, who gazes at them with pained eyes.

“I don’t. He’s too loud. It hurts to hear him. He wants to kill you. No one else matters. But he’ll crush them, kill them anyway. I don’t… like him.”

It’s bizarre, and disorienting. “You don’t like-?!” It makes Cullen’s hands clench in fury as he looks at him before turning back to the Herald. The truth is plain in only his face, and he feels his throat close up with it. “Verdanna… there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide -”

Verdanna just stares at him. He sees the dots connect in her head as well, watches as she takes a brief shuddering breath. “Cullen. We’re overrun. To hit this enemy, we’d bury Haven.”

“I know.” His hands reach for hers. Hold them tightly in his grip. “But we’re dying. We can decide, here and now, how we fall. Many don’t get that choice.”

She just stares at him. Not breaking eye contact. There’s something there, something that travels through the both of them as he grips her fingers. He opens his mouth, to say anything else, but she just shakes her head, and in that moment he knows she feels it, too.

“Commander -”

Then, the faintest sound from the boy cuts through their thoughts, as if it’s meant to. He turns to face the back of the Chantry, then to face the chancellor again. “Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

Their eyes turn to face the man. He stares up at both of them, eyes distant even as he looks at their faces. “There… is a path… You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made - made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me - Andraste must have shown me so I could... tell you.”

“What are you on about, Roderick?” she asks him. Their hands are still gripping each other by their fingers, clinging for the moment to what they can.

“It was whim that I walked the path… I did not mean to start - it was overgrown. Now with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… Herald...”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen whispers. Verdanna adjusts to face him again, eyes wide.

“If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident,” Roderick finally gasps out. His eyes open once more, now seeing, it seems, the woman before him. Cullen’s eyes widen, as Verdanna’s fingers squeeze in shock, one hand dropping from his, as Roderick stares with something beyond his hatred. “You could be more.”

“Cullen,” she murmurs. Turns to him, her commander. “What about it? Could it - will it work?”

“Possibly, if he - if he shows us the path.” But then a new thought takes hold, and he pulls her closer, voice softening. “What of your escape?”

In horror, he watches as she does not answer.

Her fingers drop from his. He takes a step towards her as she looks at the doors to the Chantry. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” he murmurs. But she does not face him again.

“Inquisition. Commander. Follow Chancellor Roderick through the chantry,” she calls to those behind her. And at Cullen’s reluctant nod, they answer, moving with haste.

“I could go with you,” he says faintly, but her head shakes.

“No. No, you couldn’t.”

He doesn’t hear what Roderick says to the Herald, barely sees him as he watches her movements. Dorian, the Bull, and Cassandra step forward once more, and Cullen realizes with horror what waits for them as well. What waits for all of them.

There’s not much he can do. He orders a few men, but they’re more than willing to go with her as well. It’s something, to watch their devotion, something that both stirs his heart and makes his stomach turn with the knowledge that they will not be returning to his command. Will not be returning at all.

And her… the Lady Lavellan, the woman of the Inquisition. She looks at him one last time, nods in thanks for the men.

“They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line,” he tells her.

“How will I know?” she asks, and he nods toward where the chancellor and the others are going.

“We’ll send a signal up. Towards the sky.”

But when he looks back, she is gone. The doors to the chantry are open, and she stands silhouetted in reddened moonlight. There is a rush of clouds above her head, and he watches her and Dorian lift their staffs to the sky, a storm brewing between the both of them.

“Let that thing hear you, Verdanna,” he insists, as she takes her step forward. When she looks back, he has to blink. Her eyes seem to shine. “If we are to have a chance, if you are, you have to let the Archdemon hear you.”

But it seems only he knows what he truly asks her. Because as she leaves his final request goes unspoken. Let me hear you. At least one last time.

The doors close with a final thud, one that shakes the place. Cullen turns to see his men, before pointing towards the path that Roderick has begun to carve out for them. “Go!” he shouts, and they sprint away.

He manages one last look toward the doors. A last ditch effort to see her turn back. But he knows even as he does that she would never do such a thing… and knows himself enough to know that he would never disobey her orders.

-

The wind howls. And with it, a voice. It’s so faint it seems to be beyond their reach, but the breeze carries it to eager ears.

“... Leliana…”

Cullen stops. There are footsteps that crunch in the snow, alongside his own, but he lifts a hand.

“... Pavus. Pavus, do you hear that?”

Others stop, too. The wind continues to roar.

“What, Commander?” Pavus asks Cullen. “What is it?”

Again. And again. Cullen lifts his hand higher. “Quiet! Everyone!”

“Josephine… Solas… p-please…”

“That. In the wind. Is that a… a voice, Cassandra?” he asks, but the faces around him simply stare.

“Commander,” Cassandra whispers. The chill sinks into their bones bit by bit.

“D-Duh-Dorian… the Iron B-Bull… B-Buh-Blackwall…”

“There! That! Do you hear it? Coming from the pass!” His eyes whip around wildly in the direction, and he swears if he squints, he sees the faintest glow from… from a familiar staff...

“C-Cullen… Cullen, please.” It’s so clear now, so clear that he’s sure it’s coming from above. And there, stumbling forward, singed and aching, clutching her arms to her chest -

“There, Cassandra! Look, it’s the Herald!”

“Thank Andraste… thank the Maker!” Cassandra stumbles forward for a second up, before looking towards the commander and turning back. “Go, Cullen -”

His feet carry him forward, and through the snow he stomps, strides as long as he can manage. There she is, there she is. “I’m going! Go back to the camp, get a healer! Maker preserve her, just a little while longer.”

It has to be the Maker. How else does he arrive at her side so fast? “Gods… Cullen… Cullen?” she asks, and he nods frantically before he can manage to speak.

“It’s me! It’s me, Herald, I’m here. Dorian, a potion, anything.” The mage lifts his hand, produces a flame, and the warmth seems to make her shiver harder as she squints at the sudden brightness.

“D-Dorian… Cullen? Can you hear me?” the Herald whispers. He hears her voice again, as clear as day, and one hand lifts to cup her face. A pinched brow, one he smooths aside with his thumb.

“I hear you, Verdanna,” he whispers back, and feels tears drip down his nose and into his furs as he gazes at her. In a sudden movement, he sweeps her ever closer, kisses her forehead at the center of her tattoos, and presses his nose to her skin. She is alive. She is alive and in his arms, and all he can do is thank the Maker above. “Thank the Maker, I’m here. I hear you.”

-

There’s no table to stand in front of, and so they gather in front of a haphazard tent, the wind from the hells whipping through camp. In fact, there is no War Room at all, their solace in Haven left buried beneath snow and rock and ice, the Inquisition as refugees among the northernmost wilderness.

Every night, Cullen’s dreams haunt him. But now, new scenes flash in his mind. Their foe, named and armed and ready, his army stretching across the lands. Row after row of corrupted soldiers, mind after mind turned toward Corypheus’s will.

The Herald’s eyes bright and vibrant - up until she is buried in snow.

He isn’t sure he’ll ever tell Verdanna what their escape looked like. How trudging through the cold was always lengthened a few hours more so he could bring a struggling few with him to search. He’ll certainly never say how finding her slumped in the cold was a prayer answered.

But now, there is no Herald either. She sleeps, as she should, to rest and recover, while the advisors begin the newest battle.

Arguments.

He can’t help the way his voice rings out, Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra’s so-called advice making his frustration mount. “What would you have me tell them?” he says to them, hands lifted in question. “This isn’t what we asked them to do!”

Cassandra’s eyes flash in the fire, though Cullen suspects there is much more behind the look she throws his way. “We cannot simply ignore this,” she retorts, voice sharp. “We must find a way.”

“And who put you in charge?” he fires back. Certainly not the Herald, motionless in her tent. Recovering, as she needs. Because Cullen couldn’t - the Inquisition couldn’t - protect her. “Without a consensus we have nothing.”

Josephine’s pleading cuts through their voices, looking between the both of them. “Please, we must use reason. WIthout the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we’re hobbled!”

Like the ruin of Haven didn’t do that already. Cullen brushes her off. “That can’t come from nowhere!”

Leliana rises to Josephine’s defense, and Cullen can’t help his step back as Leliana pushes forward to meet his anger. “She didn’t say it could!”

But it’s Cassandra who silences them, voice tight. “Enough! This is getting us nowhere!”

Cullen’s scoff leaves his mouth without a second to lose. “Well. We’re agreed on that much.” He doesn’t wait to see the looks on their faces, simply ducks his head and curses to himself.

This is how it is without her, he can’t help but think. Four people, too stubborn in their own ways to see the way out. The commander pulls back from them, turns away, letting his furs shield him from the howl of the wind, the chill it brings him. Hours upon hours of fighting, bickering, biting... Nothing gets done. The world around them crumbles.

But her. When she stands with them… they see where they need to go. What needs to happen. Who needs to fall. Who shall stand with them against the powers of the breach.

When Verdanna speaks, the world listens.

Cullen listens.

He looks up at the unfamiliar sky. Pushes a hand through his hair. Is this what the Maker wants to reduce them to? Is this the future of the Inquisition? Infighting and arguing until they wear themselves out. His weariness is shared by Cassandra, huddled over her map, by Josephine and Leliana, leaning against each other in the cold.

And then… he hears it. Mother Giselle’s voice, low and clear and sweet.

Shadows fall, and hope has fled

Steel your heart, the dawn will come

If the camp could fall more still, it does. Eyes lift. Ears prick. Hearts open.

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come.

Leliana’s voice is next. A sweet, high lilt, vulnerable to the world all at once. More bodies stand to rise, and soon, a guard beside Cullen himself is singing with the two women.

The shepherd’s lost, and his home is far

Keep to the stars, the dawn will come.

Voices lift and raise. The song ascends to the heavens. Soon Cullen’s voice joins in, but he can barely hear his own sound over the unison, unity of them all.

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon

The dawn will come

Templars. Mages. Soldiers. Spies. Orlais. Ferelden. All for one thing. All for one woman. The final verse comes as one begins to kneel, and another, and another.

Bare your blade, and raise it high

Stand your ground, the dawn will come

The night is long, and the path is dark

Look to the sky, for one day soon

The dawn will come

The dawn will come

The shift is not subtle. The eerie silence over the camp shatters, the laughter of the people echoing around him. Cullen sees smiles on faces, hands clasped together in reunion and joy.

It’s the wind that carries the words to him. Mother Giselle to the Herald.

“An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.”

He lifts his eyes, and he sees Verdanna, her name more in his thoughts than her title, stand in the flickering light of the flame. Sees the crowd gather round her, look at her, kneel before her. And then, her eyes meet his. The truth washes over him like a rising tide, and he is powerless to it.

He is her blade. She is his cause. And if the dawn does come, and if the world they live in is reborn… it will be her doing.

He lifts his arm to her. Crosses it over his chest, bows his head. And when he lifts his gaze once more, her eyes pierce him to his core.

“An army needs a cause. An Inquisition is no different,” he tells Cassandra, as the dawn does indeed rise. “Our cause is hers, is it not? She is our Inquisitor.”

“Because of her decisions. What she has done,” the Seeker agrees. Voice low. “She leads.”

Cullen nods. Thinks to himself once more. Sees her face clear as day, even as she turns away to face the crowd, to walk among them.

Finds his mind wandering as much as his heart. As to what it means… to be her commander. Realizing that he’s hers… in more ways than one.

She is our Inquisitor. She leads. And I follow.

-

Verda -

No.

The Inquisitor calls them to the new war room in Skyhold.

In a formal setting it’s required. A new rule for himself after the lines seemed to blur. But he can’t seem to help it, even in the place where their plans are made. It took so long to bring it together, and still piles of bricks impede their journey to this new war room, but no ceremony seems to insist upon her title. Not when she smiles so brightly at the use of her name.

He made the same mistake in a letter to his sister. Her name so easily on his lips that putting it to paper was nothing. And Mia, quick on the take, caught it instantly. Any reassurance of his survival brushed aside in favor of his slip, curious about why he would toss aside formality for this… woman.

But the fact of the matter is he can’t help it. It’s just so easy to resort to the ease and friendliness, the way he wants to say her name and kiss his off of her lips as a greeting. The kissing is the newest part of the revelation, one that makes his collar tight every time he thinks it. Ever since finding her body in the mountains, watching her collapse into the snow, something has shifted between the two of them, and he can’t help the way he stands at full attention when the door to the war room opens.

“Inquisitor.” Cullen can’t help the way his voice sounds so upbeat, her presence immediately lifting his spirits. He does his best to pretend like it’s simply the inspiration of her valor, her courage, her spirit! “We were…”

Josephine’s retort is immediate. “Eagerly awaiting your presence. Some of us, more than others.”

His face can’t help the way it flushes a deep red. “I wasn’t - I mean, I was…” His sigh is, and he can’t help the way his eyes fall upon her. Glancing up from the statuettes on the table. “We have work to do.”

It’s almost a plea, and surely they all hear it. He can tell that the twitch of Leliana’s lips is a meager attempt to hide her delight at Josephine’s words.

“We sure do,” Verdanna teases, and he can’t help but avoid her gaze as she grins. “To work.”

The weight of the war table settles over them shortly after - unfortunately much lightheartedness gets pushed aside with the knowledge of red lyrium sources looming over them. But he can’t help the way that he lingers over the table, bends over to spread the map out flat at the corners as he hears Josephine and Leliana’s laughter echo down the hallway, as his focus shifts to the way that Verdanna stands with her arms across her chest.

“You’re quite cute when you blush, Commander,” she tells him, a little smile and tilt of her head. He ducks his head with the words.

“I try not to make a habit of it,” he returns, lifting one hand to rub it over the back of his neck. Her chuckle makes his chest warm. “Doesn’t exactly inspire courage and confidence.”

“A shame.” He sees her legs through the multitude of figurines, watches as she walks along the edge of the table until she stands beside him. Leans on the dark wood, her arm brushing his. “Were you? Eagerly awaiting my arrival, that is.”

“Of course,” he answers, and the ease of it surprises him. He looks up at her, green of her gaze hitting him alongside the sudden clarity. And her little laugh after he says it, bright and joyful, immediately puts a smile on his face. “I always… enjoy our time together. Fleeting though it may be.”

He can’t help but wonder if it’s a blush on her cheeks, that travels up to the tips of her ears. But no matter what it is, she radiates warmth and it’s because of him.

“I do, too, Commander,” Verdanna replies, and for a moment he settles into the touch at his side, smiles and bites his lower lip before glancing toward the door once more.

She seems nervous. It’s strange, because ever since Haven’s demise her steps have been so assured. And yet she fidgets before him, fingers fiddling with her belt.

“Verdanna,” he says, but she’s quick to interrupt.

“I never thanked you, Commander,” she says in a rush, and he blinks at the sudden ferocity. “I mean - I realized that, this morning, as I assessed what we managed to save from Haven.”

He blinks again, taken aback. “For what, my lady?”

Once again her inability to meet his eyes startles him. There’s no more stammering, but she still seems nervous. “For saving me. At the pass. At Haven. You… heard me. Somehow, at least, that’s what Dorian said.”

That makes his cheeks blush. Pavus was there, when they found the Inquisitor in the snow. He realizes then, that the magister saw the whole display, and his cheeks are matching hers in their… pinkness. “Ah.”

“Yes. Ah.”

“It was -” he starts, but there’s so much to say and he doesn’t know how to say it. How to even speak, in that moment. It was nothing, but at the same time… wasn’t it everything? After a moment to clear his throat, he starts again. “I told you that I’d be there for you,” he eventually gets out. “Behind you, always. That didn’t stop after the Breach closed. And it… it won’t ever stop, if I have anything to say about it.”

She looks up at him, then, green eyes so wide they remind him of the dinner plates that Josephine lays out for the visiting dignitaries. She seems shocked by what he says, but he means every word. More than perhaps any other vow he’s spoken. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t thank you. You all saved my life, Cullen. You did.”

He remembers how tightly they clung to each other before she went to face the person they now know as Corypheus, remembers how their fingers intertwined as the world around them seemed to shatter. Now, with the world holding together, at least for a moment he craves that touch once more.

So he takes the leap. Reaches forward, to grab her fingers, and as he does she immediately responds. Grips his hand, squeezes it tight, and he feels what he felt before. An understanding. A knowledge.

Dammit, he feels her.

“I’d do it all again,” he murmurs. “In a heartbeat. And if I were in your place -”

“I’d do the same,” she whispers, and his eyes widen like hers did before.

Suddenly she smiles. Drops his hand, but keeps the touch lingering. “Don’t look so surprised, Cullen,” she says. “Do you really doubt my willingness?”

“Not at all,” he insists, horrified. But then she starts laughing, and he realizes that her tone is teasing. He blushes, lifts a hand to scratch at his neck, and ducks his gaze. “We must - I-I mean, I must be going. There are… things to attend to.”

“Of course,” she says. “But… we’ll see each other again.”

“Whenever you would like.”

She chuckles again, low and warm. It makes the hairs on his arms raise at the rush it gives him. “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you later today, Commander. If you’ll let me.”

And in that moment, there’s not a single reason on his mind for him to ever say no to something like that.

“My time is yours, Lady Inquisitor. And whenever you need me… I’m yours, too.”

-

Skyhold offers more than just a new place to lay Cullen’s head. It offers a new beginning.

Seeing Verdanna later means more than just another passing chess game. Means more than glances across the courtyard, or banter in the war room. It means her coming to his quarters with a purpose, and finally a damned kiss on the battlements. It means stolen moments once the doors close, finally kissing those smirks off of her face, lingering doubt being pushed aside in favor of lingering touches.

But even as the Inquisition grows with every passing day, the truth of the matter is that Skyhold, and its relative safety, still has a threat that looms. Cullen sees the way that Redcliffe haunts her, moments of peace interrupted by a sudden grip on a bannister, a fierce conversation around the roundtable. She reminds them all what looms, the overwhelming threat of an empire crumbling to pieces, and soon (too soon, too damned soon), they’re once again in the war room.

“We’re all in agreement, Inquisitor. We have to reach the empress before Corypheus. The only question is: how?” Cullen tells Verdanna as she struts in, hand gripping her staff.

Josephine glances toward Cullen. “We know how. I have our way in. The real question is: where is our enemy hiding?” The commander doesn’t miss the fond look that Leliana gives the ambassador, pride clear on her features. He also doesn’t miss the confidence that seems to fill Josephine. This is her element. “At the urging of Grand Duchess Florianne, the Empress is holding a ball. Absolutely everyone will be there. During the festivities, Celene will be meeting for peace talks with the usurper Duke Gaspard and the Ambassador Briala.”

“The assassin must be hiding within one of these factions,” Leliana tells them all, and the wheels start turning.

They discuss all the players. Gaspard. Briala. Celene herself. Ideas and conspiracies whirling around them, the reality settling on top of them all like a cloud.

“What better place for an assassin to hide than the empress’s own household?” Leliana finally sighs out, her brow pinched.

Too many people to name float into the picture. The elves with Briala, the soldiers with Gaspard, and the throne all for Celene. Cullen watches as Verdanna lets out a sigh of exasperation, unable to help leaning forward as she rubs at her own forehead.

“Do we need to go to the peace talks? The empress must have a personal guard. We could just warn her that she’s in danger.”

“We’ve made the attempt, but…” Josephine’s eyes dart to Leliana, who scowls.

“It seems that our messages never reached her. Someone intercepted them,” the spymaster admits, and Verdanna gives a short nod. The disappointment isn’t lost - usually Leliana can do the next to impossible.

Cullen speaks up, to remind, reassure. He leans forward on the table again, meeting Verdanna’s eyes with his own. “It is better that we don’t leave this to chance. If Orlais falls to Corypheus, nowhere is safe.”

There’s a beat, and then a small sigh. “We shouldn’t waste any time, then,” Verdanna mutters. “Let’s go to the Winter Palace.”

And with that it’s decided. But Cullen watches the choice do little to ease the Inquisitor’s worry. Josephine and Leliana help her figure out some of the logistics, who to bring, who to leave home (“my lady, if you must insist on Sera, we can figure out… other arrangements for her”), and some early lessons on what to expect at the grand Winter Palace. Figurines are moved around, messages written out for the allies who will be in attendance. There's a plan to follow, though, and then the whirlwind of activity leaves behind an exhausted Inquisitor and fresh worry lines on Cullen’s features.

“You don’t seem reassured by their crash course,” he tells her, as Josephine and Leliana leave the space that he is quick to fill beside her. “Not eager to mingle with the nobility?”

“I don’t think the nobility is particularly eager to mingle with me,” Verdanna counters, sighing as she pushes away from the table and moves to the back of the room. Her eyes gaze out the tall windows. “But, to answer the question, not in the slightest.”

Their privacy allows him to take the opportunity to comfort. Wrapping an arm around her waist already feels like second nature, and he leans in to kiss her cheek, chaste. “Well, we’re on the same page on that point. I don’t think I have a jacket that fits well enough for an Orlesian party.”

Her hum seems to echo in the empty room, and her lips twitch upward. But it falters, and Cullen can’t help his little frown as she turns from him. “You’re telling me. I don’t think anything I wear would gain me any sort of approval given the natural accessories.”

At first, Cullen considers her tattoos. The deep red coloring is warm against the cool brightness of her eyes. He finds himself reaching for them without thinking, tracing her forehead. But when she shakes her head, the self-flagellation clicks, and his fingers drop.

“Your ears,” he murmurs. Heart shattering at her worn look towards him.

“Among other things. Josephine was very clear,” Verdanna tells him. “I’m already starting off on the wrong foot because of my heritage. Being Dalish, an elf, and a mage simply ensures that I’m going to be clawing my way upward in their eyes.” Her laugh is hollow. “Even as the Inquisitor I’m going to get called knife-ear. Potentially to my face.”

A sudden surge of anger fills Cullen at that prospect. Feels himself scowling at the thought. “Oh, no. They’ll simply whisper it. And wish they hadn’t,” he mutters. Her laughter dissipates it quickly, however, especially as her hand lifts to settle on his arm.

“Down, boy. No need to defend anyone’s honor and spark a whole new war. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but I wish you didn’t have to be.” He turns to face her completely, suddenly hit with the danger. “There will be assassins. Enemies on all sides, posing as friends. And there’s nothing we can do but run towards the danger and hope.”

Her gaze softens a bit. “I know it feels counterintuitive. But we’re doing the right thing. And you will be there, Commander, along with other friends.” After a moment of letting him mull over that good news, she seems to not be able to help a smile.

“What is it?” Cullen asks, voice pitched low. A bit of concern still seeps through, unable to be helped, but that quickly fades at her fingers gently tug on his furs.

“Well, there is a plus side to all of this,” she finally says, turning back to the window and leaning against his shoulder, watching the sun crawl between clouds.

“And what is that?”

“I do think that I’ll enjoy seeing what formal wear Josephine can scrounge up for you. Perhaps something with… strong shoulders.”

Cullen’s eyes narrow, but there’s something playful in his tone. Playful. In the war room. Who is he becoming? “Oh, don’t think for a moment you’re getting out of anything. Our dear ambassador wants us to match.”

Her laugh echoes, and he feels her fingers scratch at the back of his neck. It makes him shiver. “Just us two? Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

“And fuel for egregious gossip,” Cullen confirms, but his voice goes a little… strained. “Not to worry, though. The whole landing party will be fitted in the finest Antivan tailoring. A proper uniform.”

There’s a sudden moment, when he’s very aware of how close she really is. How her breath is now hot on his ear, and her lips barely brush the edge of his cheek. “Well, I’ll be delighted to see you in a proper uniform, Commander.”

And just like that, she turns away from him. He whips to face her, but her fingers are waving in a cheerful goodbye, a look over her shoulder simply dastardly.

“See you in Halamshiral!” she sings, and then with a flourish of her hand, the door opens and closes behind her.

When he can breathe again, his next stop is his quarters.

-

The teasing does not unfortunately come out of nowhere. Cullen has seen the just short of gleeful looks Leliana has shot him as he passes her in the stronghold, the whispers of his impression on Halamshiral from visiting nobles with Josephine. It makes his jaw clench every time it’s mentioned, especially when he found so many creative ways to refuse the guests at the Winter Palace, out of worry for Verdanna and utter disdain for their company.

So when Josephine mentions it in passing during a Council meeting, their heads bent over a map as they decide how to allocate the resources of the Inquisition, Cullen automatically scowls.

“I have requests for information on your lineage from a few interested parties at the Winter Palace.” He can hear the shuffle of papers, and it seems to hit a particularly sharp point in his head. A headache brews.

“Andraste preserve me,” he scoffs, shaking his head. He doesn’t bother looking up from moving his pieces to a spot in the center of Orlais. “Feel free to use those requests as kindling.”

Leliana’s response is swift. “No! I shall take them. I want to know who pines for our commander. We can use this to our advantage.”

That gets his full attention, feels even more disdain settle in his soul. He stands up fully, looking up to see Leliana’s grin. She reaches for Josephine’s hand while moving to her side, leaning over her shoulder to read the list of names.“I am not bait!” he says to her. .

“Oh, hush.” Leliana’s hand waves him off, immediately reaching for the… not inconsequential stack of requests in Josephine’s hand. “Just look pretty, Commander. Now, where can we send a few regiments to sway our hand?”

The ambassador doesn’t hesitate. “The Marquis of Mont de Glace both took a liking to him -- perhaps another trip to the surrounding settlements to pique interest?”

“And three nobility from Ghislain alone.”

“I did hear tale the Templar connection of our commander struck up some noise at Arlesans,” Josephine adds, and her pitch has soared upward, excitement clear as she holds her pen to her chest, pushes up on her toes.

“Hold on just a moment --” Cullen starts, but the two of them are on a roll.

“And here, the protecteur of Val Royeaux showed interest in… trading strategy?” Josephine reads out, voice pitching upward as she finishes the line. Dawning slowly appears, however, and Cullen finds himself blushing deeply. “Oh. Well. Perhaps that one can indeed go in the kindling.

“I really don’t think --”

“Perhaps the strategy is not just answering one, but answering them all,” Leliana teases. It makes Josephine giggle. Their laughter echoes in the big empty room. High and bright. Cullen’s fingers lift to pinch the bridge of his nose. “A tournament for the honor of the commander, to see who in the end wins his hand --”

“I think we’re done here.”

The dismissal is sudden, and Cullen realizes then how silent Verdanna has been. Her eyes on the table as his have been, never moving, fingers gripping the edge of the map with a strength that he’s afraid will tear the paper. But there’s something more in her voice. The deadpan tone a mask over another emotion.

“Inquisitor,” Josephine says immediately, but she wipes at tears that have started falling from the corners of her eyes. “My apologies. We will continue.”

“No apologies needed, Josephine,” Verdanna answers, eyes narrowed as she stands up straight. “It’s simply clear we’re finished. Everyone’s distracted, and a break… seems necessary.”

Leliana straightens, too, eyes narrowed at her. There’s a dangerous glint in her eyes. A hidden delight. “Are you sure, my lady?” Her voice is carefully neutral, but her gaze flickers to Josephine, who straightens her spine. Peers down at Verdanna’s hands.

“Positive.” Verdanna suddenly stands, and that’s when Cullen sees the tightness in her smile, close-lipped. “Let’s take a break. Reconvene.”

And then it clicks for them all - Leliana, then Josephine, then finally Cullen. The realization moves like a ripple amongst the advisors, who all turn to look for understanding in the others’ gazes, Josephine and Leliana with matching smirks that make Cullen cross his arms over his chest and duck his head to hide his own little smile.

“I simply think it’ll do us all good,” Verdanna says to counter no one but the stretch of silence.

“Well. If that’s the only reason,” Leliana laughs.

It happens then, clear as day. The sun through the glass windows illuminates it beautifully. The Herald of Andraste, the Inquisitor herself, Cullen’s beloved Verdanna Lavellan... blushes. It’s an incredible sight, one that Cullen savors seeing, one that makes him smile despite his previous embarrassment.

“It is,” she replies. The slightest waver to her tone, a betrayal from her own voice. “It’s always good to take breaks.”

Josephine titters behind her quill. “Of course, Your Worship. We’ll reconvene, then, in an hour. Perhaps the commander needs a break as well. To read through the proposals.”

“Or some privacy with the Inquisitor. To find the perfect match, of course, Josie.”

“Oh, of course.”

There’s a growing delight in Cullen, one from the way that Verdanna’s eyes widen, blush grows brighter, and sudden stammer she develops. “I - I don’t need privacy! We don’t - I don’t know what you’re implying, Josephine -”

“Of course you do, Inquisitor,” Leliana teases, nodding as she links arms with Josephine and begins to walk towards the door. “After all, I’m sure you’ll be able to help him figure out what royal he’ll be best suited for. Or perhaps not a royal at all.”

“Perhaps the both of you could go to Orlais,” Josephine calls out as the War Room door opens. “Announce a potential engagement.”

“One that would surely shock the world,” Leliana says as they depart. “And leave a lot of disappointed fans of the commander. Think about it, Inquisitor.”

The door then shuts behind them both with a solid thud. Verdanna’s eyes don’t leave where Josephine and Leliana left from, and Cullen finds himself covering his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. He still gets a glare, however, when Verdanna turns and sees his raised brows.

“Cullen…”

“Are you, then?” he asks, before he can stop himself. “Jealous?”

“I don’t - I just don’t want the commander of the Inquisition to be used as folly for the games of my spymaster and my ambassador.” It’s a shoddy cover up, especially considering that her eyes can barely look Cullen in the face.

“You are.” His voice is a little awed, a little honored, and he takes a step around the table towards her, smiling.

“I am not!” Her voice is sharp, but she doesn’t step back as Cullen steps toward her. “Not at all.”

“Not even a little bit?” he asks, hand reaching for hers, holding it gently to pull her close. There’s a play of a smile across her lips as he does, and he can’t help the way it makes him grin. “The tiniest fraction, perhaps?”

When she looks up at him, that smile is warm, especially as he pulls her against him. “Never,” she confirms. “After all, none of those suitors got the honor of dancing with Commander Rutherford at the Winter Palace.”

“That is true,” he confirms, laughing, “but there seems to be a little something more there.”

“If there is, you’ll never find out.”

Perhaps there’s an ulterior motive in what Cullen prepares to propose. But he can’t help his curiosity, nor the way that her potential jealousy makes his mind… work. “I’ll make you a deal,” he offers, pushing her braid back behind her ear. “Tell you what. If I admit something to you, you admit something to me.”

It gets her attention, that’s for sure. Her brow raises at him as she looks up, weighing her options. “Something?”

“Something about… our feelings. And jealousy.”

He sees his own desire mirrored, then. Her eyes scan him from head to toe, fingers squeezing his hand for a moment before she smiles. “All right, Commander. I’ll bite. When have you been jealous?”

There’s the briefest hesitation, and he can’t help the way he has to clear his throat, drop his gaze to the war table for a moment to gather his courage. “There might have been a moment,” he finally states, “when he settled in Haven, that I was jealous of… you and the mage Dorian Pavus.”

“Dorian?” Her voice is delighted, and he feels a small drop of horror dawn as he realizes that she will not be the only one to know this particular secret.

“I know I’ll never live it down,” he says, sighing. “But, yes. Pavus, when he first arrived, held a lot of your time, and I was - I was jealous of the attention he got. The trust. Not something I’m proud of to be sure, but. It happened.”

Her laughter soon echoes around the room. It’s big and bold and hiccups a time or two, especially as she leans forward in her jest to press her forehead to his neck. “That is incredible. Jealous of Dorian.”

Cullen can’t help his indignance, straightening up. “I will simply say he was very good at being on your side, and the two of you were very fond of each other very quickly. He was also a mage. Traveling in time with you! And unfortunately, he is not… unattractive, so those were the dots I connected.”

It’s a moment before her laughter dissolves into giggles, and soon she is letting out a long sigh of delight. “I’m not saying your reasoning is flawed, Cullen. You don’t need to defend yourself. It’s just… it’s very cute. You’re very, very cute.”

It’s his turn to blush, though he looks down at Verdanna with a raised brow. “So were there grounds?”

Her giggle starts up again, briefly. “Hah, no, Commander. Nothing happened between me and Dorian Pavus. There’s nothing to be jealous about, Commander. Dorian is a confidante and a friend, and that’s all he is.” Verdanna’s hand reaches up to fiddle with the fur lining of Cullen’s armor before cupping his cheek, thumb stroking along his stubble in a brilliant, warm touch. “All he ever was.”

“A confidante, for sure, as I have a feeling I will be hearing this over our next game of chess.” His dry tone makes Verdanna laugh again, a sound he will always cherish. There’s a kiss shared, chaste and gentle. But when Cullen pulls back, there’s something playful he can’t help but show in his smile. “Well? Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Admit it. You were a bit jealous at the thought of those nobility clamoring for my attention.”

“I -” Verdanna starts, but at the look she gets from the commander her eyes roll fondly. “Alright, alright. Fine. At the mention of people… desperate for your hand in marriage, I might’ve gotten… a little bit jealous.”

“Only a little bit?” he asks, and her laugh is warm as she pinches his cheek.

“Don’t push it, Commander. But, yes. I was jealous. Happy?”

It’s an ego boost in more ways than one. It makes his heart pound, his blood sing, at the thought of Verdanna coveting his time as much as he covets hers. Jealous of endless faces and names who fight for his attention just as he is the innumerable patrons who seek out the Inquisitor. It makes him desperate for another kiss, one that has one hand gripping hers and the other pulling at the buttons on her coat.

“Only so I can reassure you,” he murmurs, “as you did for me. There is no one in his hold nor in the known or unknown worlds around us that matters to me as much as you, Verdanna. And no one who you need to be jealous about. There is only you and me, no one else.” And then he has to smile. “After all… I do believe only one person got to dance with me at Halamshiral.”

A beat passes. Verdanna looks up at Cullen with softened eyes, a push on her toes to press her forehead to his. “A reassurance indeed,” she murmurs.

There’s a beat that passes as he meets her touch, holding both of her hands now and lifting them to his lips. As he does, however, the familiar light in her eyes is back, bright and vibrant and certainly plotting.

“You know… Josephine and Leliana said an hour,” she tells him. “Whatever could we do to pass the time, Commander?” Cullen feels a warmth flood his body, better than the sun on his skin.

“I bet we could come up with some ideas, Inquisitor,” he murmurs back before crashing his lips into hers with fervor.

-

Cullen’s eyes scan the map once more. There’s only one way forward, and his hand lifts to rub at his chin as he studies it. He considers shaving, as well, but it’s a distant thought. Verdanna tends to enjoy his stubble.

Not the time.

He has to shake his head to clear thoughts of her. To focus on the task at hand. It’s a luxury he shouldn’t allow, especially considering the danger ahead. But he can’t help it, especially as he hears the creak of the door as Verdanna strides in, fresh from her journey to the Forbidden Oasis and looking every title she claims. Her chin lifts in greeting to the room and she smiles, but for the moment, he considers it just for him. And then he remembers there are others in the room as Leliana speaks, clearing his head with her introduction.

“Adamant Fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the Second Blight,” she states, looking at the Inquisitor.

Cullen, ever eager, jumps in. “Fortunately for us, that means that it was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls. And thanks to our lady ambassador…”

He turns to Josephine, who smiles graciously. “Lady Seryl of Jader was pleased to lend the Inquisition her sappers. They’ve already delivered the trebuchets,” she informs them. All the pieces falling into place.

Leliana smiles, too, but it’s tempered. “That is the good news, Lady Inquisitor.”

“And the bad news?” Verdanna’s voice sounds a little worn, and Cullen understands why. Always bad with the good, it seems.

Leliana continues. “Erimond called the ritual at the Western Approach a test. He may already be raising his army of demons in the fortress.”

“The Inquisition forces can breach the gate,” Cullen reassures them all. He trained them well. “But if the Wardens already have their demons…”

Leliana lifts her hand to cut him off. “I found records of Adamant’s construction. There are choke points we can use to limit the field of battle.”

Cullen can smile at that, turns to look at Verdanna. “That’s good. We may not be able to defeat them outright, but, if we cut out reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.”

Verdanna snorts, and Cullen raises a brow at her. “So our plan is to lay siege to a legendary fortress filled with demons?” It gets a chuckle out of him, but he leans forward to look at Adamant on the map once more. Narrows his gaze. The threat continues to hover, and he feels solemnity settle on his shoulders.

“It’ll be hard fought,” he admits. “There’s no way around it, but we’ll get that gate open.”

Josephine, ever the optimist, pipes in as well. “It’s also possible that some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause.”

Leliana agrees, at least partially. “The warriors may be willing to listen to reason, though I doubt they’ll turn against Clarel directly. The mages, however, are slaves to Corypheus. They’ll fight to the death.”

“No matter which way the Wardens go, we’ve built the siege engines and readied our forces, Inquisitor,” Cullen tells her. There is no smile now, the knowledge of another battle looming over all of them. “Give the word, and we march on Adamant.”

“I’ll need some time to prepare,” Verdanna says to the room, “but when it’s time, I’ll let you all know.” With a few nods, looks to each other, the four of them stand tall, Verdanna’s voice clear. “All right. Dismissed.”

Josephine and Leliana leave first, their murmurs for each other and each other alone. Cullen doesn’t mind, as it gives him the chance to walk around to Verdanna’s side of the table, look with her at Adamant’s position on the map. “We have the ability,” he finds himself saying, reassurance for her. “The numbers. Soon, it will be in the Maker’s hands.”

“I find myself unwilling to leave it all up to the Maker,” she murmurs back, sighing as she pushes one of the figurines forward. Cullen’s symbol, the Inquisition’s forces, pushing in towards the fortress.

He nods. Reaches up to push her braid back behind her ear, moves his hand down her back. “It’s a good thing we have you, then,” he whispers. A kiss on her cheek. “Maker or no, we have you.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Commander,” she says, but he can see the small flush on her cheeks. It makes him eager to kiss her again, but he restrains himself. Especially as her lips curl, unsatisfied by something she sees. “You will be there. At Adamant,” she says. It seems to be a dawning realization.

“Right by your side, for as long as I am able,” he promises. “Just like I was at Haven.”

If anything that deepens her frown, and she stands up straight again, takes a step back from him and the table. “I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks for me. I don’t want the Commander of our forces by my side if that’s not his place on the field. I know you know the strategy, what we’ll need to do, but -”

But he doesn’t let her dart away, push him back. Not now. Not when he can hold her instead. A wonder he’ll never take for granted. “Watching you fight, being alongside you… it’s more than simply wielding my sword while you cast your spells.My place will be with my soldiers. But it also means that I am here,” he murmurs, placing a hand on her heart, “wherever you go.”

As he does so, he feels a raised portion over her sternum. The feeling is… odd against his fingers, until he looks up and sees her gentle smile. “With me in more ways than one,” she whispers. Her fingers lift, and she tugs at an amulet to display for him.

But it’s not an amulet, or at least, not one he’s seen before. There’s no magic coming from the piece of jewelry, and yet as he watches it dangle in the light from the windows, he feels a warmth through his body stronger than potion could give him.

“Is that…” he whispers. Awestruck.

“Your coin,” she confirms. “Luck wherever I go. And you.”

“When did you do this?”

“When we got back from Honnleath,” she murmurs to him. “I can’t go and lose the luck you gave me.”

In that moment he knows. Knows something that he is still afraid to say. Cannot speak, regardless, overwhelmed by what he sees in Verdanna. He reaches for her, pulls her close, against his body.

“Cullen,” she gasps out, surprised. But he can’t help the way he buries his face into her neck.

“Verdanna,” he whispers back, and feels her fingers lift and curl into his hair.

-

There’s a lingering horror that is felt after the siege. Cullen says goodbye to Verdanna at the gates, and later finds out how close he was to losing her forever. She goes in with the Champion of Kirkwall, and leaves without him. A decision she had to make. She comes out mourning, with even more horrors held close to the chest, and in that moment he feels so helpless to her destiny.

What will become of the famed Inquisitor? If the Champion could be lost so easily, what would become of Verdanna? Would she, too, be reduced to a title in the annals of history? The thought of that turns his stomach, the realization that so many will hear her name, her title and not know who she really is.

Needless to say, it’s not the last time he feels his coin against her skin. Not even close. Especially after Adamant.

It seems the coin holds something, if not luck. Something special, that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end when he thinks about it. Every so often, he finds himself drifting off, gaze dropping to her collarbone, thinking about what’s hidden beneath her attire. His coin. His.

(He does limit it eventually, when Josephine’s words blur behind him in favor of remembering where that coin is, what it means for them, and being caught by the ambassador. The blush to his cheeks seems almost fluorescent when she comments on it, and Verdanna and Leliana can’t stop their giggles for far too long.)

But as the days pass, the weeks, the months, it’s clear that Adamant was simply a battle, but that the war continues on.

He watches as the weight on Verdanna’s shoulders causes her to stumble. He watches as more and more places around Thedas call to the Inquisition for help. Ferelden and Orlais crumbling with threats of darkspawn, demons, Red Templars, Venatori, rogue apostates. He watches as people within their camp stumble, too, with her expected to pick up the pieces, Blackwall’s lie sending echoes only he hears in the dead of night, when she wakes with a start about being too late to save him. He watches her fight to control the Rifts and her own magic, and the Anchor become more of a burden than a blessing.

And, on top of all that, Corypheus is on the move.

It is clear the state of the world is in the balance. But what Cullen also realizes, through all of this, is that the Inquisition is not only beloved, but ready. That Verdanna takes all of these struggles through stumble and stride and plans to keep going. And that he, despite every fear, every uncertainty, is ready to follow her.

And so, the War Room beckons.

“It’s time to plan our next attack. What’s the state of the Inquisition?” Verdanna’s voice is strong as she looks among her people.

Josephine’s enthusiasm is not missed. “We’re well-loved in Orlais. Say the word, and the Empire will send her support.”

Cullen has his own excitement. A pride that fills him as he looks at the Inquisitor Lavellan. “And your actions at Adamant denied Corypheus his army of pet demons. With Orlais’ support, our numbers match his.” He straightens his spine, lifts his chin with a small smile. “Corypheus’s followers must be panicking.”

“My agents agree,” Leliana adds.” Our victories have shaken his disciples.”

“Perhaps they’ll rethink following the darkspawn magister from the dawn of time,” Verdanna says. It earns her a small chuckle, but the collective focus is not shaken. “Where is Corypheus now?”

“After Adamant, Corypheus uprooted his major strongholds and sent them marching south to the Arbor Wilds,” Cullen says. “His army clearly wasn’t prepared to flee. Our victories have them on the defensive.”

Suddenly, Verdanna’s eyes narrow with determination. Cullen feels a rush at the sight. “And that’s where we’ll keep them. Unable to flee. If he’s hiding in the Arbor Wilds, that’s where we'll finish him.”

“But what is Corypheus doing in such a remote area?” Josephine murmurs, almost a question to herself more than the room.

Leliana answers. “His people have been ransacking elven ruins since Haven,” she says, which makes Verdanna’s mouth purse. “We believe he seeks more. What he hopes to find, however, continues to elude us.”

“Which should surprise no one, but fortunately I can assist.”

The voice comes from behind Verdanna, and Cullen watches with a raised brow as Lady Morrigan steps forward. He knows of her, aware of her since she joined the Inquisition after Halamshiral. He watches as her keen eyes scan the room, landing on each advisor in turn. Verdanna brings her attention back to the topic, however, with a little bow of her head.

“You have my attention, Lady Morrigan.”

Morrigan’s low tone lilts across the room, and soon her focus is only on Verdanna. It’s unnerving, that singular focus, especially considering what seems to hide behind those eyes of hers. “What Corypheus seeks in those forgotten words is as ancient as it is dangerous. It’s best if I show you.”

There’s a brief pause. Cullen glances at Morrigan and takes a step around the table, but immediately he is trapped by her gaze.

“Not you, Commander. Only the Inquisitor.”

There’s a small, shocked silence in the room. Leliana speaks first. “What?”

“What will be revealed to her she will share with all of you. But as of now, the information I hold would be better suited for someone who knows the elves as I do… as well as the woman who holds the power of the Fade.”

“But you are taking her somewhere,” Josephine says, voice tight. “If you need safe passage to a location --”

“Where we are going, no others will be able to follow.”

There’s a hitch in Cullen’s breath, and he feels his jaw click as it clenches. “So you’re taking her… Without any other observers or people to verify your intentions. Just you and Verdanna?” he asks, her name slipping from his lips instead of her title. It earns him a look from the Inquisitor herself, as well as a raised brow from Morrigan.

“You doubt my intentions, Cullen Rutherford?” the witch asks him, voice low. He dares another step around the table. “Do you doubt your Inquisitor?”

“My concern is protecting the Inquisitor… and the Inquisition,” he states plainly, though the undercurrent of frustration peaks through. He can’t help it. There’s a part of him that dreads the idea of Verdanna losing herself, her life, because he trusted someone who shouldn’t be on their side. Blackwall’s betrayal sings in his head as he looks at Morrigan, her journey to the fade and the loss of Hawke clear in his mind -- but it’s Verdanna who stops his thoughts in his tracks.

“Lady Morrigan’s services were offered to the Inquisition. I believe she offers her knowledge to help, not to hurt,” she says. Cullen knows the brunt of this statement is directed at him, to drop his guard. “But the truth is that we need as much as we can get on Corypheus to beat him. If this offers us a leg up, we need to take it.”

“Unfortunately, Lady Lavellan is right. The longer we sit and bicker, the longer Corypheus has to find what he seeks.”

There’s a brief moment when his eyes meet Verdanna’s. Communication between them silent. After a pause, her hand lifts to her chest, where his coin rests, lifting and pulling her shoulders back.

Understanding fills him. I’m always with her. And while he reaches to settle his hand on the hilt of his sword, he looks toward Morrigan with a nod.

“Very well, Lady Morrigan. We will be here when you return.”

The waiting, however, is torturous. Cullen finds himself pacing back and forth, driving Leliana and Josephine from the room to Josephine’s desk for a short time as he moves throughout the space. But soon, Morrigan and his Inquisitor return, and indeed Verdanna tells them all what she saw. Testimony of a mirror, magicked to become a portal to what she and Morrigan call the Crossroads. If Corypheus acquires one, and learns how to use it, he will have access to pathways all across Thedas and the Fade.

“What happens when Corypheus enters the Fade?” Cullen asks them, both, eyes a little wide with the implications.

“Why, he will gain his heart’s desire, and take the power of a god,” Morrigan responds. “Or -- and this is more likely -- the lunatic will unleash forces that will tear the world apart.”

It’s shocking, the realization, but not surprising. If anything it’s a confirmation - in the end, all of them could have reached that eventual conclusion. But there’s a difference between suspecting and knowing. Verdanna echoes that precise sentiment as she looks among all standing there. “In Redcliffe, I saw the future Corypheus built. We can’t have that,” she tells them, and there is no argument.

Morrigan’s voice is sharp. “‘Twas always so, was it not? The madman would bury us all.”

“Pardon me, but -- but does this mean that everything, everything, is lost unless we get to the eluvian in time?” Josephine asks. Her eyes meet Cullen’s, and her question cuts to the heart of him.

He can’t help the way he speaks first. Eyes scanning the map as he spreads the corners with his fingers. “Corypheus has a head start, no matter how quickly our forces move,” he murmurs, looking at all the pieces.

Josephine cuts in, voice firm. “We should gather our allies before we march.”

“Can we wait for them?” Leliana counters, and her fingers move to hold one of her statuettes. “We should send our spies ahead to the Arbor Wilds.”

But Cullen’s voice raises over hers for a moment. “Without support from the soldiers? You’d lose half of them.”

Josephine cuts across him next. “Then what should we do, Commander? Let Corypheus outrun us?” The tension in the room seems to approach a dangerous tipping point, all of the advisors looking at each other for the answer none of them have. But, as always, it is the Inquisitor who leads them, and Verdanna takes her step forward to place her hand firmly on the war table.

“I advise you all work together instead of arguing,” she says fiercely. “Now is not the time for that.” For a second, her eyes scan the board, and then she raises upright once more, her voice clear, confident, commanding. “Josephine, have our allies send scouts to meet us in the Wilds. Leliana, your fastest agents will join them. Together, we’ll have enough spies to slow down Corypheus’s army until Cullen’s soldiers arrive.”

For another moment there is silence, this of a different kind -- respectful. Even Morrigan seems to appraise Verdanna with a greater understanding. This is their leader, and this will be their champion, for the betterment of all of Thedas.

Cullen can’t help the way he gazes at her, mouth a little open as warmth slowly overtakes him. Verdanna… his pride in her has him close to bursting, has him smiling despite what he knows now about Corypheus’s plan. Has him wondering if, despite Verdanna’s own unbelief on the matter, the Maker truly had a hand in bringing Verdanna to them. To him. The thought makes his cheeks a shade of red the light in the room is unafraid to illuminate, one that earns him a fond, loving look from her even as Morrigan brings them down to earth.

“Such confidence,” she says, a little smirk on her lips, “but the Arbor Wilds are not so kind to visitors. Old elven magic lingers in those woods. Beyond your understanding or mine, Lady Lavellan.”

Josephine chimes in, as always, with diplomacy on her mind. “We’d be remiss not to take advantage of your knowledge, Lady Morrigan. Please, lend us your expertise.”

Morrigan seems to not be able to help a small chuckle. “‘Tis why I came here. Although it is good to see its value recognized.”

Leliana’s eyes narrow at Morrigan for a moment, but any comment from her is interrupted by Cullen’s quick tongue. He speaks to Verdanna as the leader of her armies,, as her friend, as hers. “Any further instructions, Inquisitor?” Whatever she needs, he is hers to command.

But instead of a simple dismissal, she clears her throat. Cullen watches as she seems to think, brow furrowed, before looking towards her advisors in turn. First, Leliana, with a gentle smile. “The Inquisition began as a handful of soldiers.” She turns to Josephine next, eyes bright as she nods towards her. “Thanks to you, we’re now a force that will topple a self-proclaimed god.” Lastly, she looks at Cullen, and her smile is now a grin, her hand at her side once more reaching up towards her heart. “I could ask for no finer council, and no better guidance. No better friends.”

Cullen’s voice doesn’t waver as he mimics her motion, hand on his chest. “I speak for all of us when I answer: we could ask for no finer cause.”

No finer Inquisitor, he muses, watching as she begins to adjust the figurines with her other two advisors. A way forward, thanks to Morrigan. Resources thanks to Josephine. Infiltration, thanks to Leliana. Trained soldiers, thanks to Cullen. But belief… hope… a plan, all thanks to Verdanna.

No finer woman, Cullen thinks as well, watching her nod after a moment and look towards Morrigan. They begin to talk to themselves while Josephine and Leliana begin to plot the course her agents should take, and Cullen watches Verdanna’s head bow to Morrigan as she leaves. Always willing to respect the knowledge of those around her, fighting to understand those most would push aside -- Verdanna’s willingness to see her own limitations and turn to those who would help her overcome it is more than who she is as the Inquisitor - it’s who Cullen sees everyday. He thinks of Cole, of Sera, of Thom Rainier, of Iron Bull, of Dorian, all people pushed aside because of one reason or another… and yet brought into the arms of the Inquisition because Verdanna saw something great in them.

And as he reaches for his own figures, he brushes her fingers with his own, finds himself looking into her eyes and seeing something there that makes the world around them fade away. Sees his own struggles, so often at the surface, for a moment seem so small. Feels the constant itch for lyrium, clamoring for his attention, be pushed aside, her magic swirling in his chest, a soothe to his ache for a few seconds before she pulls away to reach for a few papers from Josephine.

These are the last moments of distraction he allows himself before focusing on the issue at hand, but he can’t help the way his thoughts turn once more to her, only her. There is no one like her, and yet the Maker saw fit for Cullen to be so lucky, to put him in her path to legend. The finest woman, the greatest Inquisitor, and as he watches her, he knows.

The truest love.

-

There’s a moment, in the Arbor Wilds, where Cullen sees her.

It’s a brief flash, really. He has soldiers behind him, pushing them forward, closer and closer to the main camp of red templars where Corypheus seems to be. His heart pounds in his ears, and he downs too many men he knows and a surprising amount he doesn’t. There are demons and Venatori and turned Grey Wardens and perhaps even a darkspawn or two. It is chaos and the ringing of battle as they go from camp to camp.

And then he sees Verdanna.

Feels her, really. In a flash of heat at his back, her magefire erupting and disintegrating a demon before it could slice through Cullen’s plate armor. It seems to scorch the back of his neck, and in a whirl of moment he turns to find the source. She stands with Cassandra, Sera, and Dorian, her staff spinning in her hand, and in a blaze of light a wall of fire ignites the forest floor, downing more spirits in its wake.

There is no moment to go to her, not now. Not when the fighting is so thick. But he finds himself drawn to her anyways, feeling a magical barrier surround him, watching the way her lightning is summoned in a moment’s notice. Another flash of purple, this one igniting head after head of soldiers, and then the dust settles, if only for a moment.

There is not much to say, even then. There is still so much fighting, and they both lead the charge, but he sees her, and for now, that is enough. She is safe, and her eyes are alight with her magic as they pass each other, fingertips brushing, hers dancing with prepared spells.

“Be safe, Cullen,” she tells him, and he feels one last barrier form around him. Another wave of demons approaches.

“Inquisitor,” he calls back to her as she turns, Cassandra taking the lead and Sera the rear. “Be well, friends. For the Inquisition!”

His men, like him, are delighted to see her. Energized, eager to fight. Ready to win. It’s long-fought, the journey to push the forces back, but in the end, they manage. And then…

Quiet.

The aftermath. The mourning of those lost, the celebration of victories won. There are certainly things to discuss, but for now he savors seeing you safe.

The journey back home is a long journey north. There’s lots to talk about, some of it serious, and other bits less so.

“Why can’t we have a big flying thing on our side, Quizzy? Not an demon, course, but something else,” Sera calls to Verdanna as she walks alongside the steeds, much preferring the ground. Dorian lets out a little snort.

“If you want to risk life and limb to attempt to train a dragon to fly for the Inquisition, dear Sera, be our guest.”

Leliana’s eyes narrow a little, playful as she glances back at Dorian. “You know, Qunari revere the dragon. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring the Iron Bull on an adventure like that, if someone wanted his favor.”

Dorian’s reddened cheeks are quite obvious, making Cullen raise his brow. “Well, I - certainly the Iron Bull’s approval simply emphasizes that it’s a terrible idea. Can never trust those Qunari to know common sense.”

But Sera’s voice shouts louder than the rest, especially as she elbows Blackwall beside her and speaks in the loudest whisper she can manage. “Something tells me we’re gonna be fighting a dragon soon.”

In the end, it gives Cullen and Verdanna a chance to laugh together as they banter, and he feels the comradery settle in his bones. Just as laying next to Verdanna settles, too, warming him from the inside out. Able to be in the same bed once more, able to claim his place beside her as he strokes her hair, watching her ever watchful gaze grow tired against his chest.

When Skyhold’s structure greets them in the distance, Verdanna turns to him, gentle smile as she reaches for his hand. Their steeds ride beside each other, and he glances behind them before entangling her fingers in his and squeezing them. “I’m going to call a meeting of the War Council,” she tells him, voice low. “There are… new developments to discuss.”

“As always, we’re at your service,” he says, voice strong.

Skyhold beckons. Soon their steeds are clopping through the front gate, and Cullen manages a smile through his exhaustion. That smile lingers in the War Room, pride lifting his chin and his chest as he looks over each representative. “I’m pleased to report we won the battle, Inquisitor. When you went through that mirror, Corypheus and his Archdemon fled the field. I’m not sure why.”

Morrigan’s voice is matter-of-fact, but there’s something underneath it that sends a shiver down Cullen’s spine. He does his best to avoid her gaze. “What he wanted was no longer within the temple.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, humming. “After all, he spent so long trying to get into the Temple, he probably couldn’t have helped his forces at that point.”

Josephine’s answering hum pitches up. “Then Corypheus is finished,” the ambassador says, and Morrigan and Leliana turn to her with serious eyes. Almost nod.

“If he is wise, he will hide and rebuild his strength before he attacks again,” Leiliana says, reaching for a little statuette.

Morrigan immediately shakes her head. “No. He will not hide.”

“Meaning he will attack us directly, at Skyhold.” Verdanna turns to Cullen, and he has a flashback to their conversation at Haven, the way hellfire rained down on them at the place they started to build with the Inquisition. It makes his chest tighten.

Yet Morrigan hums, again, quite quickly. “Not necessarily, but neither will he remain idle.”

Leliana frowns. “And how could you have such insight into his plans?” Her suspicion is echoed by Cullen’s own thoughts, who simply shoots the Lady Morrigan a sharp look.

“The Well of Sorrows held many voices, and they speak to me now across the ages,” she replies. “They hold wisdom, secrets I never deemed possible. But even they fear what Corypheus has become.”

“But he’s not a god, yet,” Verdanna counters.

“Not yet,” Morrigan answers with a nod to the Inquisitor. “He is powerful and immortal, but… he has a weakness. The dragon he calls is not truly an Archdemon. It is a dragon, in which Corypheus has invested a part of his being. He doubtless did so out of pride to emulate the gods of old, which can be exploited.” Her hands spread, the answer laid out before them as she speaks. “Kill the dragon, and his ability to leap into other bodies is disrupted. He can be slain.”

Cullen knows Verdanna can’t help her little huff. It makes him smile, a quick one, as he glances toward her. “Just kill his dragon. Why didn’t we think of that before?”

Morrigan chuckles a little as well, and she turns to face Verdanna as she does. “There is a way to defeat the dragon, Inquisitor, and to match Corypheus in his power. The Well whispers it to me now. Your help will be required, Inquisitor.”

Verdanna nods. “I’ll meet you in the courtyard when I’m ready to embark,” she says, but Morrigan’s low laugh once again echoes in the room.

“No journey necessary. Simply… practice.”

Though ominous, there’s a reassurance to Morrigan’s confidence. “I’ll see to Skyhold’s defenses in the meantime,” Cullen says to Verdanna and the rest. “It can’t hurt to bolster what we have and make new what we don’t.”

“And Leliana and I will ensure that our allies know what occurred at the Arbor Wilds. News of Corypheus’ defeat will certainly help reassure those who still fear his forces,” Josephine says.

The plan falls into place, and Verdanna approves with a nod. “Then it’s settled,” she says. “For now, everyone rest. Our journey was nothing if not tedious and tiring, and there are still wounded to attend to and work to be done.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” they all say, and with that, it is a dismissal.

She goes to all of them, eventually. Discusses with Josephine and Leliana what will be said and what will be omitted. Visits Morrigan in the courtyard. But she ends with Cullen, as he hopes, his finger tracking the words on a report from one of his men.

“How are the defenses, Commander?” Her voice cuts through his thoughts, and his head lifts to look at her with a smile as she leans against one of the walls.

“There… is good news,” he reports, sighing as he stands straight. “When we came, the decay of Skyhold had not spread to the foundations of the walls. Our boundaries are sturdy. However, walls are not always enough.” As Verdanna steps forward, he sits in his chair, leaning back with a press of his fingers against his temple.

Her steps carry her to his side, one hand on his shoulder as she looks over what he’s written. “At least there’s a place to start,” she says, voice quieter now that she’s next to him. After a moment, she perches on the armrest of the seat, letting one of her hands rub at his shoulder. “Tell me what you need, and we’ll send parties out to find it.”

“Understood,” he says, eyes on her eyes, the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips. “What’s next for you and Morrigan?”

At the mention, Verdanna simply chuckles, and he can hear her disbelief.

“Are you that worried?�� he asks immediately. She shakes her head.

“No, simply that… astonished,” she says. “It’s a very complex piece of magic, with a lot of parts.”

“What does the spell do?” he asks, but again, she chuckles. Lifting a hand then lowering it once more.

“I - I don’t think I really know. It’s nothing I’ve seen, though she swears that the origin itself is Dalish in nature. And I don’t think I could describe it in a way that gives it justice,.” She smirks, then, and Cullen groans. “Or at least in words that are less than --”

“I regret ever telling you that,” he says with a wave of his hand, cutting her off as he stands and she begins laughing once more. There’s a flood of color to his cheeks. “More each moment.”

“Don’t be sour,” Verdanna giggles, which only makes his brow furrow more, makes his lips twist. “Cullen. I’m teasing.”

“You know, I told you that in confidentiality, so I surely hope I am the only one who has heard jokes of that nature,” he tells her, and her hand moves to his chest next before she leans down to kiss him .

“I know, vhe’nan,” she tells him. And as always, he believes her, especially as her lips peck against his and then a few more times on his cheek. “Better?”

“Much,” he says with a grin.

“You’re very smart,” she reassures him, hands lifting to cup his cheeks right over the color. “And incredibly brave. And distractingly handsome.”

“Distractingly?” That’s a new one, one that makes his smile only grow. It’s her turn to look bashful, simply turning away as she asks him.

“It can be hard to focus. But while we’re gone, I’ll be thankful for a distraction, I’m sure of it.”

A sudden stab of panic moves through him. He glances toward the door, looking at the way the sun seems to sit in the sky. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Now, actually,” she admits, sighing. “We need Morrigan’s supplies. I came to say goodbye, and that I’ll see you back here, at the fortress.”

“So quickly?” It seems like too little, too late, this little goodbye, one he’s giving a thousand times before. But this journey with Morrigan feels different. Aches in his chest as he watches Verdanna stand and reach for his hand so he’ll stand with her. He complies, and she kisses him sweetly as he does.

“We need these components,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.”

“I know, my darling,” he whispers back. “I know.”

He hugs her tightly, and his eyes close as he buries his face in her neck, thankful for how she stays close to him as long as he holds her. He pulls back only when he thinks he’s memorized the sweet smell of her hair and the way her fingers feel gripping his sleeve.

“... walk with me?” she finally asks, after what feels like minutes of holding onto each other. There is a battle coming, part of a bigger war, and she looks nervous, even doing her best to push it down for his sake.

“Of course,” he answers, kissing her cheek. “Anywhere’d you like.”

It hits him as they walk down the battlements together, every so often his hands pulling her close for another kiss. It hits again as he watches the big doors open for her and Morrigan to leave, and once more as her figure disappears into the snowdrifts.

This is the endgame. But in war, there are always casualties. All he can do now is pray that what they have is stronger than Corypheus, turn to the Maker and his guidance, to Andraste and hers. But what’s stopping Verdanna’s body from arriving at their home, wrapped up tight in linens for the world to mourn her over and over again?

The answer, then and there, he realizes, is nothing.

And nothing scares him more.

-

The waiting kills him. Slowly and surely, inching through his veins like the craving for lyrium, compounding on each other until his pacing seems to run tracks into the wood beneath his feet.

“They’ll return,” Josephine tries to soothe him, “and soon. We’re almost to the end.”

But her words don’t help, and Cullen doesn’t know how to describe why. Doesn’t know how to admit that it’s the end he’s so frightened of.

What happens when Verdanna faces Corypheus for the last time? What happens when she reveals herself to him, shows her true colors to face his? What happens when she returns, when the war is over and won?

What happens if she doesn’t?

Any joy in each other’s company is soured by the impending end. The very real possibility that one of them won’t return from battle seems to be the only thing that he can think of, the thing keeping him up most nights. A world without Verdanna seems to have no color, no light, no life to it at all, and he worries that is the future that faces them.

And even now, he waits. Waits for her to return, waits for Morrigan to return, waits and waits and waits. The time ticks slowly by and he can’t help but wonder how much time he has left, even as he stands around the war table with Leliana and Josephine.

Those thoughts continue to linger, even as the doors to the war room push open. Verdanna enters with Morrigan close behind, and Cullen finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from the one who has his heart.

“Did you find what you need, Morrigan?” Leliana asks them, and the self-satisfaction in the woman is clear. She lifts her chin.

“I can match the darkspawn magister’s dragon, yes,” Morrigan hums. “As for matching Corypheus… that is up to you, Inquisitor.”

“We don’t even know where he is,” Verdanna says with a sigh, looking around the room. When she looks at Cullen, he manages the smallest of smiles.

“Then all that remains is to find Corypheus before he comes to us,” he tells her, letting himself huff out a laugh. “Simple.”

There’s a gentle sigh from the spymaster. “We’ve been looking for his base since all this began, with no success,” Leliana admits, clenching her jaw.

“Well, his dragon must come and go from somewhere.”

“What about the Deep Roads? We could send word to Orzammar, hire envoys to --”

The light hits them, before the sound. A blast of sickly green energy that shakes the hold to its foundation, and then the sound of thunder all around them. The green is answered by Verdanna’s own hand, the anchor glowing and pulling her forward, and with a shout she falls forward.

“Verdanna!” Cullen shouts, rushing to her side. His hand rests on her shoulder, but when she looks up, all he sees is the tight furrow between her brows, the determination in her gaze.

“It seems Corypheus is not content to wait,” Morrigan murmurs to them all.

Rising to her feet, leaning on Cullen ever so slightly, Verdanna gapes as she looks toward the window. “He’s in the Valley of Sacred Ashes?”

For once, Morrigan’s voice is solemn, not sly. The wisdom beyond her years ripples through her words. “You either close the Breach once more, or it swallows the world.”

Josephine’s gasp is an echo of them all as they gaze at Morrigan. “But that’s madness! Wouldn’t it kill him as well?”

The realization sets in all at once, and he finds himself looking between his compatriots -- from Josephine, to Leliana, and back to Verdanna once more. Finds himself forcing down the terror as he scans her face, the reality of their situation like a gut punch. “Inquisitor,” he says, voice still so stoic. “We have no forces to send with you -- we must wait for them to return from the Arbor Wilds.”

Verdanna meets his eyes, then, and there’s a sadness to them. But she looks past him once more to the storm brewing in the distance. “Just as Corypheus expects, I suppose.”

“We can rally the troops that are left,” Leliana tells the room. Her own gaze turns to Josie, who meets her eyes with a few quick blinks. And our friends will help us, but…”

“It’s you and the magister, Verdanna Lavellan,” Morrigan tells her. “What we do now is up to you.”

There’s another crash of thunder, a flash of green. Josephine ducks with a little gasp, and the whole group moves back from the windows, the foundation of Skyhold shaking itself.

“I know what I have to do,” Verdanna tells the room. “Keep each other safe.”

“Let’s find you shelter,” Leliana tells Josephine, grabbing her hand. With a look towards Verdanna, she nods her chin, deeply. “Good luck, Inquisitor. Maker be with you.”

“Andraste guide you, Verdanna,” Josephine tells her, voice still warm even through the low tremor. And with a final embrace for her ambassador, Cullen and Verdanna watch the two women move deeper into the hold.

Morrigan lifts her chin again. Looks to Verdanna with narrowed eyes and a toothy smile. Something flashes in her, something that makes Cullen tense, but as soon as it’s there, it’s lost in the lights dancing in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. “I will see you in battle, Lady Inquisitor,” the witch hums lowly, and with a turn she is gone almost as quickly as she arrived.

All that is left is the two of them. There is another crack of lightning, one that seems to reach for Verdanna herself. Her Anchor erupts and drops her to one knee in pain. Cullen feels his stomach roll as he watches her gasp out before reaching for her shoulders.

“Verdanna --” he starts, voice fighting to be heard over the magic brewing in the distance, but her head shakes.

“I’m all right, Cullen,” she tells him. “I’m okay.” His hands roam her body, but while no injuries are clear he can’t help the way he clings to her. Lifts her to her feet.

Always strong. For the good of the Inquisition. For the good of the world. But what about her? What if she --

“I have no forces to send with you,” he whispers. It hits him all at once. He is horrified, aghast, and his hands fall into hers, even with the Anchor burning so bright. His words had echoed over the war table, but now they shake and tremble. “No army. Almost no one. I have nothing to send with you --”

“I thought you knew me better than that, Commander,” she tells him. Urges him. “I have everything I need. Sera will stand behind me, Cassandra beside me, Dorian around me… all of our friends on the field below.”

“Let me come with you,” he all but yells over the madness outside. His voice growing evermore broken. His hands grip her arms, yank her close to terror and wrap around her without any thought of releasing. “Let me fight by your side! I will not lose you to that damned demon, do you understand? I will not lose you to him. I won’t -- I-I can’t, Verdanna. I love you.”

“Oh, gods, Cullen,” she gasps into his shoulder, and he hears the shakiness of her voice. “Don’t you realize? You are always with me.” Her hand reaches for his. Guides it up to her chest. She presses it flat, and he feels the etchings through her shirt, no armor blocking him from feeling the coin around her neck.

“Maker above,” he mutters, kissing her temple. And when she pulls back, the green of her eyes is swallowed by sickly emerald light, even more distorted by the faint shine of tears.

“I have our friends. Our family. And I have you, do you understand?”

He presses his forehead to hers. He imagines he feels every etching of her tattoos against his own skin, lifts a hand to tangle in her hair and breathe her in. One final prayer. One final plea.

“Maker guide you. Andraste guide you,” he whispers. The thundering of Corypheus’ presence looms. “Mythal guide you. Back home to me.”

Her last gesture is a kiss, firm against his lips, gripping his hands tight. “What did you say before? In front of Andraste herself? I will be back, Commander. And so will you. That is our destiny.”

With that, she unleashes herself upon the world. Turning from him with that beautiful smile, hair flying back from her face, steps confident and certain as she steps toward the doors of the War Room.

She is fearsome.

She is brilliant.

She is Elven, Dalish, magic, and he has the honor to be hers.

“You will be back,” Cullen whispers yet again, a prayer and a plea, and the wind carries it to her ears. Her back straightens, and with a nod, she pushes through the doors of the War Room, vanishes as the entrance slams to a close behind her.

-

It’s over. All is said, and done, and it’s over.

It feels too good to be true. For a moment, as Corypheus fell, Cullen feared the worst, felt bile in his throat. And yet there was nothing to doubt when he found himself arriving at the Inquisitor’s side, his eyes wide at the heap of precious metal on the ground, Verdanna standing above the burnt corpse of Corypheus.

It’s over.

All in all, the final celebration is nothing more than a party, and yet nothing less. The last party they dared to throw, Corypheus revealed himself, arrived with his army on Haven’s doorstep. Now, the threat is gone, and Cullen gazes over smiling faces and raucous laughter and drinks lifted to Andraste without worry that Skyhold will cave in.

And then she appears. At his side, like a warm summer breeze, gently touching his arm as she speaks. “Commander. What a… pleasure.”

When he turns to face her, he is glad to see her changed out of the armor she donned for the fight.. For the first time in ages, there is no furrow between her brows.

He grins. “Am I imagining it, or do we have a moment to breathe?”

There’s a hint of disbelief in her, too. She lets out a little huff. “We happen to have a moment.”

He can’t help his little chuckle, hand falling to his side as he manages to take in the sight of the great hall. “I think you’re right.”

The laughter fades, however. So does everyone else in the room. The light flickers on Verdanna’s face, and he can’t help but feel his hand twitch. To reach out to her face, brush his thumb along her cheek. How close he was to losing her. Losing this moment, this victory. It surges through him all at once, and he finds himself speaking to her from the depths of himself. “You brought us here. You are proof that the Inquisition has made a difference. That we will continue to do so.”

Her hand reaches for his. Their respectful distance no longer respectful, but Cullen can’t find it in himself to care. The night is young, the dawn will come, and she’s still standing in front of him, eyes bright in the firelight, not a scratch. It’s… all he’s prayed for.

“Our soldiers put their trust in you, Cullen,” she tells him in response. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for the Inquisition. For me.”

It takes him aback. He finds a ferocity in his voice as he squeezes her hand, an urgency. “I should be thanking you. You gave me a chance to… to prove myself. In your place, I’m not sure I would have done the same.” But just as soon as the energy has come, it fades. Eyes start to drift towards them, towards her, and he finds himself relinquishing his hold on her. Just for a little moment more. “I should let you mingle. I’m sure everyone desires your attention, as much as I might want it for myself.”

She nods. Steps away. But he doesn’t dare to miss the way her hand reaches to push her hair back, a mimic of his own action, the way she turns to face him even as she walks toward the other heroes.

The rest of the night seems to crawl at a snail’s pace. Cullen watches Verdanna move with ease amongst the crowd, from friend to friend. It seems all of Thedas is drawn to her, eager to make her laugh, praise her name, thank her for all she’s done. He watches as Varric promises one last game of Wicked Grace, as Iron Bull drinks to her name, as Sera teases and pokes her side and Dorian sends a wink in his direction. But even as his eyes flicker away for moments of praise for himself, for laughter and a moment with Josephine and Leliana, nothing stops him from watching her quietly slip towards the War Room.

It doesn’t take much after all. A whisper to the guard, a little look and smile. “We won,” Cullen hears her say, “relax for just a moment.” Her words are like sugar, and he imagines her lips as sweet, glancing behind him once more to take in the music before the wooden door closes with a clang.

“You managed to slip away,” he calls out to her. Her strides slow as she steps through Josephine’s space, and she turns to face him, chin lifted as the moon shines on her features, smile wide, devious.

“As did you, Commander,” she laughs, waiting for him to approach. It’s when they’re in step that she walks again, purposeful movements toward the far door, the creak drowned out by the laughter in the other rooms of the hold.

It closes behind them with a loud thud. The War Room shines with the stars in the sky, the only light from the window and the moon that shows itself, big and brilliant. The little figurines seem to glisten, and Cullen takes Verdanna’s hand as he walks toward them in the center.

“I thought I might claim more of your attention after all,” he admits when he turns to face her, his own hip pressed against the wood of the table.

“I’m glad you did,” Verdanna tells him, and he can feel the heart behind every word.

He can touch her now, but something holds him back. Perhaps it’s the ethereal light of the room, the faintest green glow of the Anchor on his hand. Perhaps it’s the fear that he will wake from a brilliant dream, and the world and the Fade will crumble around him. Something makes him falter, and as always, she is there to pick him up.

Her hand reaches for his, squeezes tight. “Now, Commander, what did we say?” she teases him. Her voice is quiet, and yet Cullen feels it reverberate down his spine.

“You mean what did I order?” he responds, and it’s with the lowest chuckle, eyes on her. “I said you would be back, Verdanna Lavellan.”

“And look where I am,” she whispers, and her other hand presses to his front, flat and warm, even through the metal of his armor. “I’m right here, Cullen Rutherford. Right… here.”

Right here. The symbol of their fight beside them, all of Thedas on the verge of war, and yet, here she stands. Brillant. And beautiful. And above all, his.

His hand slashes out. With a quick motion, he pushes aside all of the figurines, Josephine’s, Leliana’s, all of his even to the side. They fall to the ground with a clatter, some of them snapping under the drop, others under the weight of his boots as he crowds her against the war table.

“Destroying the property of the Inquisition,” Verdanna laughs, her body pressed against the edge. Cullen lifts her with ease so she sits atop the wood, over Skyhold’s representation on the map. Her Dalish markings seem to glow.

“All to please the Inquisitor,” he breathes. And with a yank forward, he is kissing her, enraptured, enlightened. Her fingers move up to his hair, his hands spread her knees wide.

There is nothing stopping them now. No self-control, no fear of discovery. All that Cullen can think is that in this moment he has her, and she has him, and somehow they have both made it to the other side.

Fuck the sanctity of the table, of the war room and their games of chess. Corypheus is dead. The war is won. Their lives have just begun.

-

i posted this on this blog for more exposure, and to keep my fics all in one place! but for more dragon age: inquisition content and shitposting, follow @inqvisitor.

thanks for reading. <3

[kimsaena88]

Social media certainly has become a cesspool for spreading rumors, creating false narratives, and insulting complete strangers whose business does not belong to the public. What happened with Taehyung was unacceptable, and he has every right to be upset. How quickly the rumors spread, from both antis and “fans” (TK shippers) alike was disturbing, and even more disappointing when the media took advantage of it. It’s interesting to note that not even a few months ago there were multiple articles featured in Korean media focusing on BTS’s lack of dating rumors and scandals. What are the odds that something like this occurred in such short time?

As I observed this unfold, I was disgusted by the utter disregard and disrespect of privacy for Taehyung, as well as for all celebrities. I’ve heard the cliché, “They knew what they were getting themselves into when they decided to become famous; if they didn’t want to lose their privacy, they shouldn’t have become famous,” before. I’m sure we all have. The problem is, though, that such an opinion is dangerous and can lead to issues like this. No matter what someone’s status is, there should always be boundaries and rights to privacy. The fact that this is lost on many nowadays, shocks me, even though it shouldn’t.

One of the glaring truths to come out of this situation was the fact that it was spread in both Korean and international spheres. The antis and the “fans” that took part were both domestic and global. International ARMY should know that K netizens and K-ARMY are not innocent by any means. I cannot stress enough that although K-ARMY is mostly respectful of the boys’ privacy, there are those who go too far. And, if I’m going to be completely honest, Korean BTS antis, and K netizens for that matter, are far scarier than their international counterparts. Maybe it’s because I’m Korean, but their words just seem to cut deeper and leave an extra bad taste in my mouth.

What’s most important to note here is that Taehyung made it known that he was aware of the rumors, and was transparent in his disgust and disappointment. The sad thing is that this isn’t the first time Taehyung has addressed the breach of privacy and false narratives before. He rather bluntly shut down a TK shipper on Weverse years ago, and also mentioned his concerns and discomfort with sasaengs/stalkers in a VLive. He isn’t afraid to speak on such things, and I respect him for that. However, it seems as though his words, and feelings, fell on deaf ears. Once again, his privacy has been invaded, resulting in baseless and hurtful rumors and threats, not just against him, but others who were involved as well.

[TW: Mention of depression and suicide]

Let this be a lesson. For those who think BTS, or any other idol or celebrity, will not be exposed to the rumors and negativity that spread like wildfire online, please take note of what has happened here. You, nor anyone else, are entitled to mess with the privacy of anyone else, no matter who they are. Be respectful and mindful of what you say in regards to someone else, including those who are famous. They are people, too. Their feelings are just as real and important as yours or anyone else’s. I shouldn’t have to remind anyone of the suicides of idols and other celebrities who suffered from crippling depression caused by the harsh criticism, rumors, and heartless words of antis and “fans” found all over social media. It happens far too often.

This is not something to be taken lightly. This is not a joke. This is a serious problem that gets swept under the rug far too often. We need to be better than this. Please, if you see this type of behavior, whether it be the spreading of rumors, invasion of privacy, or dangerous/harmful/violent rhetoric, report it. Be supportive when and where you can. You’ll be surprised how much your kind words can help. Encourage respect and the rights to privacy. Be the positive change that social media most desperately needs right now. We may not be able to put a full stop to the toxicity, but we can provide some relief from it. 

[beccascribbles]

hcs series detailing what it is like to be a manager for the various haikyuu teams

karasuno | seijoh |

warnings - swearing

word count - 2.1k

you weren't immune to oikawa's charms, but being friends with him since middle school meant you were the least likely in the school to fall for him (you were also the least likely person he would mess with in that way, especially as iwaizumi would happily punch him for the trouble)

this meant you were a perfect candidate for manager of the team

when you all been first years, the team had come up to you and begged

ultimately, it had been iwaizumi who had finally convinced you (the sight of him almost begging you would be forever ingrained in your mind. boy did not want to be the only one responsible for oikawa)

by the time you reached your third year, you were immensely glad that you had agreed to manage the team

at times, it had been tough. dealing with oikawa's jealous fangirls often felt like a full time job. the amount of times you had sprinted into the club room to the shock of the team was ridiculous

one day, you had dived through the door, yelling for then to shut and lock the door as you crashed to the floor

iwaizumi had been by your side in an instant, worried gaze assessing you for injuries. when you let out a wince, rubbing at you arm, he was automatically assessing it for damage

"it's not broken," he assured you, giving your head an affection pat before his gaze turned to oikawa, eyes narrowing. "call your fucking fangirls off, shittykawa"

"i've tried," he whined, giving you an apologetic look. "clearly their love for me is too strong"

"maybe if they actually spoke to you, they'd realise what a crap personality you have," sighed matsukawa, slapping oikawa on the back affectionately and then holding the hand up to receive a high five from hanamaki

slowly, hesitantly, you moved over to the door, pressing your ear to the surface. through the wood, you could the girls, their high-pitched voices grating at your nerves

“i really fucking hate them,” you grumbled, moving away to sit on the floor beside hanamaki, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you leaned against his shoulder. “why did i let you convince me to join this club?”

this was directed to iwaizumi, who had the good idea to look sheepish. oikawa, on the other hand, collapsed down on the floor in front of you and spread out his arms. “because you love us, y/n-chan”

“not you,” you scoffed, poking him in the chest. he pouted

“that’s no way to talk to your childhood friend”

“it is when they have a swarm of jealous fangirls after you”

oikawa looked like he was about to reply, but a clip to the ear by iwaizumi was enough to distract him. he turned to his friend with a cry of outrage, beginning to bicker with the ace

while you would usually tell them to shut up, pull them apart, you couldn’t really be bothered. breaking up fights was for when you were on duty. training hadn’t started yet so you figured you could let them bicker

the second years clashed less than the third years but sometimes you were needed to break up the fights, particularly when kyoutani made a return to the team

while he was away, you had been one of the only ones who checked up on him, always telling him that if he needed to talk, if he was struggling with anything, you would be there

therefore, he had a lot of respect for you, placing you on a similar level to iwaizumi (the only member of the team who could get away with telling him what to do or scolding him angrily)

this meant that, when you appeared in front of him, placing a placating hand on his chest, his hackles would lower and he would back away, though the glare would remain on his face

truth be told, kyoutani was a little bit scared of you suddenly exploding on him, especially after the way you had snapped at him when he had first pulled off a risky play in practice

you had seen red when he had pushed kindaichi out of the way to spike the ball, marching over and grabbing him by the top to drag him away. it was the first time they had ever seen him apologise

while kyoutani respected you, the relationship you had with him was very different with the one you had with the other second years. kyoutani would never invite you to lunch. watari and yahaba on the other hand...

your week is not complete without a lunch with them. you aren’t even sure when you managed to form such a strong friendship with them, but it was likely when you agreed to help them in maths (it’s not yahaba’s strong point and he begged watari to join him)

you are the one responsible for stopping yahaba showing off, particularly when the gym floods with fangirls, most of them there to watch oikawa

he will flip his hair and affect an air very similar to oikawa which will frustrate you to no end. you will drag him off court by the ear, telling him to stop, threatening him with extra conditioning

matsukawa and hanamaki will definitely start snickering at the way his face reddens, focused more on this than the fact that they are meant to be improving their serves

you can always trust watari to help you out, no matter how much you insist that you don’t need it. he is the first to volunteer to help you set up the court, to help you carry the equipment for away games

now, the first years. if iwaizumi is the team dad, you are the mum

you dote on kindaichi and kunimi, trying to keep them away from matsukawa’s and hanamaki’s influence. you don’t want them to be corrupted by the pair. iwaizumi will help you but even he sees little point in stopping the inevitable

kindaichi was very awkward around you at the start. his brain couldn’t comprehend that a pretty girl was talking to him, let alone asking if he was okay, if he needed a drink

eventually, kindaichi relaxes. you are the one he turns to when he has a problem, explaining it all to you. if it involves another team member, you will encourage him to tell them, not wanting there to be fractures in the team. after all, aoba johsai thrives because of their great teamwork

kunimi is, as usual, very relaxed around you

most of the time, he barely acknowledges your fussing, simply waving you away and heading back onto the court to resume practice

however, if he wants to slack off (which he does often), it will be you he makes eye contact with. you know you shouldn’t condone this behaviour but, occasionally, you allow it. he promises he will pull through for the game and you believe him, though you do explain that if he slacks off too much it could mean risking his sport in the starting rotation

your quiet understanding is often what motivates him to keep going. he doesn’t want to disappoint you. plus, he has seen you angry and would rather not be the reason for that

oikawa is intimately familiar with your anger. the boy just seems to do everything possible to piss you off. what angers you most is the apparent disregard for his own health, but you don't take this out on him physically

you and iwaizumi team up to handle him, with both of you favouring a more violent approach (sometimes that's the only way to knock some sense into oikawa's brain)

while iwaizumi will throw either oikawa or various items such as volleyballs at him, you tend to favour a good old-fashioned slap to the back of the head

he always knows you're coming, his whole body tensing at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer to him. oikawa is almost more scared of you than iwaizumi, probably because you are more cold fury than fiery anger

that first night iwaizumi had asked you to stay behind after practice with him, your heart almost broke at the sight of oikawa pushing himself

you saw the sweat, watched him stumble, clutch at his damaged knee... but despite the pain, he kept pushing

as you watched, you grasped iwaizumi's hand, who was tense beside you, needing the physical anchor as much as you

"why does he do this to himself?" you questioned, watching as oikawa pushed up from the floor, landing awkwardly on his feet. still, he kept pushing

iwaizumi didn't bother to answer. the answer was obvious, and you both knew what it was. he needed to get better, for the team, for himself, for revenge

"if he keeps going like that, his knee will be permanently damaged and he can say goodbye to a volleyball career," said iwaizumi, jaw tight. hand still in yours, he marched onto the court

he finally released your hand to grab oikawa by the shirt and yank him away. his voice was a low growl as he spoke, "don't fucking complain. we've been here long enough and you're going home before you regret it"

"you're so... urgh, do you want to make me lose my mind with worry, tooru?" you sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, more to reassure yourself that he was fine than to other support. he slung an arm over your shoulder, leaning on you slightly with iwaizumi at his other side

"didn't think you cared, y/n-chan," he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze. you caught eyes with iwaizumi, rolling your own at oikawa's words

"of course i care. we both do"

from that night on, you and iwaizumi took turns watching oikawa, stopping him when it became clear that he was doing too much

on the nights when you had to watch him, you would sit in the corner of the gym on a video chat with matsukawa and hanamaki as you tried to do some homework (to be honest, you spent most of your time joking around and chatting, but the thought was there)

oikawa, though he never showed it, was grateful for you and iwaizumi's worry. it put a check on him which he would never admit to wanting, but needed desperately

on weekends, you and the third years will always meet up, be it to do homework or just watch a movie at someone's house

movie nights tend to be quite messy (it's not uncommon to be picking popcorn out of your hair at the end)

one time, you had fallen asleep on iwaizumi's shoulder only to wake up to his head flopped against yours and a snickering oikawa and hanamaki. the pair had taken great joy in drawing a moustache and beard on your faces, while matsukawa took photos (he's usually the one who takes your group photos and sends them to everyone at the end)

managing the team is mainly fun, though it does have its cursed moments

you weren't ashamed to admit that you cried, along with the rest of the third years, when you left

however, the tears did not stop you from giving your kouhais some strongly-worded advice

yahaba was warned to not think with his dick and to try his very best to not intimidate oikawa in his quest for some fangirls

kyoutani was told that you were only a phone call away and would not hesitate to scold him if he let his anger take control over his playing style

honestly, the only thing you wished watari was luck. he'd need it, especially as there was no manager to support them next year

kunimi you told to slack off less, though you wouldn't hold it against him if he did sneak off for a little nap during the school day so long as he was energised for volleyball

with kindaichi, you simply gave him a hug and told him to keep trying his best, to not beat himself up over every mistake he made

it was oikawa who insisted on a big group hug, pulling you and a rather disgruntled iwaizumi into his arms, the rest of the team happily bundling in

and, as you hugged each other, you were thankful iwaizumi had convinced you to join the team because you knew you had made friends for life

[acourtofbookishdreams]

Azriel ~ Different

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You have been having nightmares frequently and Azriel always is there to help you. This time, though, you finally open up about your nightmares and the things you experienced Under the Mountain.

Warning: Mentions of r*pe and sex*al assault. Please be wary.

Word Count: 1785

Azriel POV

Her screams had woken me again.

"Azriel! Azriel, no!"

This was becoming a recurrent, nightly tradition. A tradition I wished would would just simply not be anymore.

I did what I always did, bursting into her room, Truthteller at the ready to fend off whatever ailed her but we both knew it was mostly for show. Still, I would never not rush to her side, never leave Truthteller behind for the sake of the fact that the one time I didn't would inevitably be the one time something was truly, physically wrong with her and I would kick myself for treating it as any other night - especially since the fear was certainly not all that unfounded.

But it was just a nightmare. Another nightmare.

'YOUR' POV

My screams had woken him again.

He had done the chivalrous thing of course, bursting into my room with Truthteller, prepared to fight the evil lurking in the shadows he couldn't predict or trust but we both knew nothing was there to fight, it was all in my head.

Another nightmare.

One like all the rest but this time...it was worse.

"Y/N" Azriel breathes, lowering the blade

"I'm okay" I shake my head, offering a weak smile, "Routine procedure at this point, right?"

I bite my lip, trying to hold the tears back and averting my gaze. It was usually at this point that Azriel would ask if I wanted him to stay but for some reason tonight was different. He closed the door, left Truthteller on the bedside table and climbed into bed with me immediately after, no questions, no waiting for an invitation.

Of course, I knew if I told him to leave he would do so. It was always my choice. But tonight it appeared maybe he needed this contact as much as I.

"You're safe" Azriel murmurs, gathering me into his arms.

I choke on a sob, curling into his side and resting my head on his bare chest. Usually, when he was shirtless it was an effort to keep focused but at the moment it was just further proof he was here, alive and free. It was proof he was safe.

"It's not my safety that scares me" I breathe. Once again, we were breaking from normal pattern. Previous nights, it had always been my screaming waking him, he would run in, ask if I wanted him to stay, I would agree and then he'd hold me until I fell asleep.

I never talked about the nightmares I had, never. Not even the first time...

"No!" she screamed, thrashing violently in the bedsheets, almost tearing them apart, "No, don't take-NO!"

"Y/N!" Azriel yells, bursting in through the door at the same time she awakens, clutching the sheets to her chest, sweat slick hair plastered to her forehead, tears streaming down in uncontrolled rivers of fear and pain, "Y/N, what is it?!"

"Nothing, Az, I'm sorry for waking you" she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "It was just a nightmare, I've had them for a while."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel frowned, Truthteller lowering to his side.

"It wasn't necessary. I've been dealing with these since-before I got back."

"Would you..." Azriel trailed off, "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, I..." she began to reject the proposal but suddenly changed her mind, "Actually, yes, please."

Azriel nods, placing Truthteller on the bedside table before moving to open up the covers, having since nervously been put in some semblance of order as they had spoken but he stops mid-way noting that her resolve had shaken - that she was now shaking, violent sobs wracking her body.

"Y/N" Azriel said and the one word was enough to break her.

"Azriel" she sobbed, tears flowing freely again, face screwed up into an expression of unfiltered pain.

"Y/N" Azriel whispers, sitting on the bed and pulling her onto his lap. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, securing herself to him as she sobbed into his neck until the sun rose.

She had fallen asleep that way, her legs and arms secured around him in a tight embrace, tears dried and leaving her skin slightly sticky with the moisture.

He had placed her down in the bed after he had fixed the sheets with one hand, the other supporting her body, becoming limp each second sleep overtook her.

He had intended to leave but she had subconsciously clung to him with a grip so strong it had surprised him and rather than risk waking you or, worse, upsetting you, he had climbed into bed beside her, tucking her into his chest so her face rested right where his heart was.

He had found it a very fitting place for her to rest.

Azriel had done it every night since, every time a nightmare came around unless you wished otherwise, which had never happened as of yet. Even if you didn't scream out, his shadows were so attuned to you, he would sense it and come in anyhow - where you would be sitting cross legged on the bed, hugging yourself or crying or just staring at the ceiling with a dead expression on your face.

Having him with you, holding you in his arms, stroking your hair, legs intertwined and breathing synchronised. It was the best remedy for your fear.

A cure.

"Then what does scare you?" Azriel asks, his voice hesitant to bring up a memory that causes you pain.

"You do" I breathe, "My nightmares are always about you."

Azriel breathes in deeply, "I scare you?"

"No, no!" I rebuke, "No, not you personally! My nightmares always involve you...they..."

"You don't have to tell me" Azriel whispers

"I think I need to" I admit, "These dreams, they're obviously not getting better. Maybe telling someone...maybe telling someone will help."

Azriel waits patiently. Content to listen or to completely disregard everything you said if that was what you wished, the way he'd always been.

"Most nights, A-Amarantha comes back" I explain, stumbling over the name, "And this time she takes you instead of Rhys and other nights...other nights it had always been you that was taken."

"And she took you because she knew he was hiding something" Azriel confirmed, it was the little knowledge he did have of Amarantha and her motives, "So to punish him further, she took you, his only living relative, and..."

"And that's all you know" I nod, "But what you don't know is that...she didn't just punish Rhys. She punished me too."

Azriel stiffens in my arms, his hand momentarily freezing in it's soothing stroking up and down my spine.

"If any of it gets to be too much, I can stop" I say

"No" Azriel shakes his head, "You lived it. I can at least stand to hear about it, especially if it helps you."

"She used to...make me watch." I spat in disgust, "While she...basically raped Rhys I had to watch. Everything she did to him, the malice in her eyes while she did what she did, the enjoyment in knowing he was doing this not for her but to protect what he loved...Worse, we both had to pretend it was normal. That we enjoyed it. If we didn't, our facade as the Court of Nightmares would fall apart and we couldn't let that happen."

Peering up at Azriel, I stopped for a moment to assess his reaction. His eyes were hard as flint, like chips of hazel ice. He nodded softly, encouraging me to continue.

"On the odd occasion she would also...bring me into the scene. It wasn't often, she didn't like it all that much herself it was mainly just to put us on edge. Thankfully, she never made us do anything...to each other. I never touched Rhys once nor he me and I'll always thank the Mother for that but she would still...it was still..."

"You don't need to say what it was" Azriel cuts in, "I know."

Traumatising.

It was traumatising.

"So, when the nightmares come about. It's not Rhys under Am-under her. It's you. I see her with you. Some nights you're faking it like we had to, others you're genuinely enjoying it, and sometimes you're...screaming and-and begging her to stop-" My tears choke off the words and I sob loudly.

He pulls me ever closer in response, hushing me as his hands stroke my hair, "That's not me. It was never me."

"What if it could be?" I cry, "What if another one of her comes around one day and they take you. I couldn't bear it-"

"You could. I had to" Azriel admits. Both comforting and upfront. He would never lie to you and to say it would never happen again could be a lie, "When you were taken, I...Cauldron, I would always try to leave Velaris, damn the consequences. It was always Amren and sometimes Mor and Cass who would pull me off the ledge. I couldn't stand it, thinking about what she could be doing to Rhys but, to you...it was worse. Infinitely worse."

"If it ever does happen, I need you to be strong" Azriel continues, "I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening but if the Mother decides that's how things play out...I will need you to be strong, to protect yourself because the idea of you ever being hurt for the sake of me...it's not right."

"It would be" I sniffle, "To keep you safe, I would do anything. I did. Rhys did."

"You'll never have to again" Azriel resolves, kissing the top of my head, "Never again."

I exhale loudly, making a sudden decision that could change everything.

"Azriel?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too" His response was automatic. I mean, we had said it a dozen times but this...was different.

"I don't mean it like that" I admit, peering up at him sheepishly, "I'm in love with you. I have been for a...a very long time."

Azriel's silence spurs me on to speak more, explain myself.

"I understand if you don't feel the same and I'm sorry I never told you earlier but at first it was a crush and then...then I got taken and I was stuck without you for so long. After that, I knew it was love and not a crush on my part but I couldn't say anything. I just...I couldn't. But then you came in every night to help with my nightmares and that was-"

My words are cut off as Azriel takes my chin in his hand, dipping his head and kisses me. Soft, tentative, comforting. It wasn't the kind of kiss that made your toes curl or butterflies erupt, it was the kind of kiss that admitted everything words could never express.

He pulls back only slightly, leaving you nose to nose.

"I have always loved you" Azriel breathes, "From the moment I saw you barrelling into the Illyrian camps, bright smile and unruly attitude."

"I love you" I smile, tears sliding down my face, - happy tears, "So much"

"And I you."

After that, neither of you slept alone ever again.

Masterlist

[serosgirl]

✧˖*°࿐ fantasy ❛ i could be your private island ❜

this a mature composition that contains descriptions of actions that are not appropriate for children who are not of age. there will be no further warning, so you must read at your own discretion.

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), gender neutral, 18+

irk was an expression of contempt hardly depicted upon bokuto’s facial. his slanted gaze habitually oozed his aura; bubbly and buoyant, aggravation was scarcely known to his reputative persona. he was gifted the art of fabricating elation. effortlessly casting blithe behind the heel of his step, glee lingered wherever the male had presented himself, so when the front door of your complex aggressively clicked into its lock, you stiffened and brought your attention to the male who stood at the entrance.

he grudgingly kicked off his shoes, head hung downwards as to prolong initiation of conversation. an oddity, that was. routinely, he would forget to disregard his battered sneakers, far too busy rushing himself into your arms to care.

a raised brow accompanied your curious gape. your head had tilted in perplexity, and you motioned to stand when you pushed your palms onto the cushion beneath you. to encounter your lover, you meekly shuffled your feet along the floor, careful to ease your touch onto the tense figure of your boyfriend. his shoulders sagged at your caress. he slipped his jacket from his droopy figure and finally raised his head to reward himself sight of your concerned expression, a frown weighing your puckered lips as you wordlessly analyzed bokuto’s behavior. “tough day?” you queried, eager to discover the source of his dejection.

his response wasn’t instant. rather, he strung you along to chase after his heels as if a curious puppy. he exhaled as he slung himself onto the couch, craning his neck to sink into the doughy cushion supporting the weight of his head. “something like that, yeah.”

you remained at attention. readily awaiting as if a devoted minion who had yet to receive orders, you stood adjacent to the seated male, desperate to erase his deep frown.

keen to the prominent wrinkles laced between his furrowed brows, you sought to replace his expression, ease his vexation; dissipate any ire that weighed upon his sore and overworked shoulders.

diligent effort such as his deserved praise. sacrificing countless hours to better his team; collectively seeking a unanimous goal. late nights of practice was a priority similar to a nine-to-five, and responsibility had been bestowed to bokuto as some nominated achievement. harboring weary was a reasonable feat. practice until perfection; perhaps a foolish rule instilled by his child-like naivety but nevertheless an ultimatum he strived for.

success was never one of generosity. trials that conclude in failure were far more frequent than bokuto’s intended prosperity. unanticipated strife clung to his silhouette and dwindled amongst his withering shadow.

the perceptible gleam to his blissful disposition dimmed. embers to the flame of his eye settled upon hills of ashes, fiery orange dying to a void that was soon to disappear, vanishing with a steady blink of his impending lour. his dull lids fluttered to a close, obscuring the sight of your attentive figure. the heavy frown he previously wore lightened to an extent, but remnants of its presence loitered the expanse of his countenance.

aspiring to return the sheen coating to his amber hues, you proposed an idea that would be sure to revive him of rapture. “want me to help with that?” referring to mentions of his terrible day, you offered to alleviate his contemporary burden. the underlying motives you harbored were left unsaid, leaving the male to hum in question as to prompt you to explain your intent.

his available sense discerned the rustling of cloth, prompting him to raise a brow in confusion. he remained in his lax position. conscious to your sudden silence, bokuto keenly stiffened to concentrate in regards to your action. you continued to shuffle around for a few seconds longer before yielding your hasty conduct.

bokuto’s seated position towered over your stoop. his knees were spread beside the width of your cranium, torso reclined and further granting you access to his hip, groin susceptible to your studious gape.

your shameless gawk precepted the pronounced mound of his dormant bulge, insides fluttering with anticipation due to the cloth of his sweat pants poorly cloaking the length of his cock.

your hands greedily dug into the waistband of his bottoms, prompting the male before you to drop his gaze to his lap. he was startled at the visual of your kneeling figure between his knees. his heart thumped wildly, and he failed to maintain his composure; thickly swallowing what was left of his surprise, bokuto gulped in suspense. aftermath of anxious froth bubbled within the depth of his abdomen, rupturing into a feverish frenzy whenever you shimmed his sweats past his waist.

freed from its unpleasable confines, his eager sex sprung with newfound vigor. a discernable shade of red adorned his impatience; angry veins pulsated beneath the force of your hold, inducing his cock to stiffen in expectancy. the nude color of his tip had become glossed in a sheen coat of his impending arousal, and you couldn’t help but thumb the substance and use it as lube against his throbbing shaft.

“you need a distraction, right?” you questioned your partner. though, searching for no response, you continued with rhetoric. “something to occupy those ceaseless thoughts of yours?” your traveling optics hungrily drunk bokuto’s flustered countenance, inducing a subtle throb to begin its reign within your own sex. descending your focus to his lap once more, you wrapped your deft fingers around the girth of his cock, teasingly kneading your thumb against the skin available to you. he trembled beneath the tips of your fingers, and you hummed in delight. sparing a last glance, you encountered bokuto’s attentive stare. “make sure to keep your eyes on me, m’kay?”

you impishly swiped your tongue past your lips before bringing your parted mounds to the base of his dick. puckishly dragging your tongue against his pulsating sex, you followed the protruding vessels of blue, soon hallowing your cheeks as to sink your head towards his pelvis.

the warm tinge of your tongue extracted a low hiss from your victim, his hips tenuously bucking himself down your throat. his head lulled until it propped against the couch, and his mouth fell open with a groan, praise befalling your ears whenever you worked your hands around what was left of his cock.

his antsy fingertips trembled against his thigh, eager to grip your hair and encourage you to take the remaining inches, but he opposed that decision. heedful to the leisure pace of your bob, he hesitantly brushed escaping strands of your hair from your face, heart wildly thumping when you peered at him from the tender contact.

your water-welled tear ducts glossed your eyes in crystalline solution, the tiny beads clinging to your lashes as you guided his sex towards the ache that occupied the back of your throat. drool escaped the corners of your busy lips, glissading the side of your chin until bokuto rubbed his thumb along the expanse, collecting the overflowing liquid with a gentle swipe. your hinged jaw cramped in discomfort, but the lewd visual of bokuto’s flushed features encouraged you to continue.

wordlessly guiding one of his hands to the back of your head, you cutely communicated he was allowed to do as he pleased. his fingers tangled and hooked the roots of your scalp, his itchy tips tightening their hold but refusing to give him access to abuse your esophagus.

as if to spite his difficult task of self-composure, you grazed his length with your teeth, careful as to only brush the supple skin with sluggish movement of your jaw all while lapping the flesh beneath your tongue.

bokuto audibly voiced his satisfaction, hips rutting into your mouth until his cockhead abrasively pressed into the cotton-soft padding of the back of your mouth. a muffled squeak of surprise lodged in your throat, a pitiful moan wavering around bokuto’s dick and wildly burst into erratic vibrations. he shuddered at the ministration but continued to observe your cowering figure.

droplets meekly fell from your watery optics, your lips has become notably plump; the nude colored appendages swollen from prostration and glossed with a thin coating of your spit. the palm of his hand remained attacked to your crown, permitting the athlete sight of your face-fucked disposition. you weakly peeped from your spot, eyes conveying you inability to sheathe the rest of him with your mouth.

“don’t give me that look.” a pant followed his words, and his lids considerably narrowed until his golden hues slanted into a condemning glare. “take it, i know you can.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Initiative pt 2 - ao3 or tumblr pt 1

It was just typical of his brother, Nie Huaisang thought. He finally, finally, finally found a girl that might suit him, agreed to marry her, and then he spent all his time worrying about…saber.

Typical.

Nie Huaisang volunteered himself to act as the family representative in negotiations with the Jiang sect, seeing as his brother would undoubtedly get them fleeced if he were trying to do it himself – “Try not to be too mercenary, Huaisang. We are the ones in the stronger position, through no fault of theirs.” –  and with one thing or another he arrived at the Lotus Pier less than a week after Jiang Yanli did.

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian seemed rather surprised to see him.

“I haven’t had a moment to tell them,” Jiang Yanli said, pressing her head to her forehead and looking a little tired. “They’d just completed the memorial hall, when I arrived.”

“And it’s been nothing but keeping them from fighting ever since?” Nie Huaisang said, not without some sympathy.

Only some, though. If Jiang Yanli couldn’t handle Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, even the grieved and tragic versions of them, what was she going to do the first time his brother went into a rage?

Maybe he was being too cold-blooded. After all, they’d been her parents, too.

“Your arrival is a good thing,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little in satisfaction. “Now they have no excuse to run away from me.”

Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile a little at that.

She summoned a few sect disciples, divided them neatly into two groups – one larger than the other – and instructed them to go bring her two recalcitrant brothers to the main hall. “You may use force,” she informed the larger group. “I would advise you that A-Xian is especially weak to tickling around his ribs, and don’t let him scare you off with that Yiling Patriarch stuff. And as for the group going to get A-Cheng – may I suggest looking especially pathetic when you convey the message that his sister, who he left alone for almost the entire war, would really like to see him if he has a moment to spare for her?”

Nie Huaisang’s smile broadened. “Tears,” he added solemnly. “Tears are very good. He hates tears.”

“Just so. Thank you all.”

“My brother is already planning out your saber,” he told her once the disciples had left, and she brightened visibly. “If there’s anything you want to contribute in terms of design, now’s the time – I brought mine in case you want to have a look later on.”

Aituan was in his luggage. Somewhere. His brother had refused to let him leave the Unclean Realm before he’d produced proof of saber, and he hadn’t unpacked since then, so surely it was somewhere.

“I’m sure whatever your brother comes up with will be fine,” she said. “I don’t know anything about weapons.”

A brief hesitation.

“Although, perhaps not – so large…?”

Nie Huaisang decided to be daring. He opened his fan in front of his face and looked at her over it, allowing his eyes to curve up in a smile. “Don’t worry about that – though if all goes well, you’re going to have to accustom yourself to dealing with a large saber at some point in the process.”

She burst out laughing, which was good.

“Nie Huaisang!” Oh, look, Jiang Cheng was here. “What are you saying to my sister? You’d better not be harassing her!”

“What would you do if I was?” Nie Huaisang wondered. “I mean, I’m not, I don’t think, but –”

“Just don’t.”

“A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli said. “Be polite. Where’s A-Xian? I have something to tell you both.”

Wei Wuxian came in a few moments later, grumbling and rubbing his ribs but brightening when he saw them all gathered up there, and he slid into place by Jiang Cheng’s side easy as anything even if they did sort of stare awkwardly with quasi-glares, quasi-grimaces at each other first.

And then Jiang Yanli told them why Nie Huaisang was there, and all awkwardness fell away at once so that they could unite in glaring at Nie Huaisang.

“Why are you looking at me for?” he asked. “I’m not the one marrying her, that’s my brother.”

“If you had anything to do with this –” Wei Wuxian started, doing his whole looming-with-the-subtonal-wailing-of-dark-forces Yiling Patriarch thing, but ticklish around the ribs and a summer of nonsense didn’t really do much to encourage fear in Nie Huaisang, who’d never had as much common sense as a regular person ought.

“Oh, no, I objected to it,” Nie Huaisang said breezily. “Your sister doesn’t deserve my brother.”

And that, of course, got them both up in arms even more.

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s wrong with my sister?” Jiang Cheng shouted, and Wei Wuxian’s aura-of-darkness got even more out of hand as he crossed his arms and glared death. “She’d be a great bride for anyone! Give me one reason –”

“I’m glad to have your support, didi,” Jiang Yanli said, calmly ladling out the soup she’d promised Nie Huaisang as if they were sitting in the midst of a nice breeze instead of a hurricane, and okay, fine, maybe his brother had a point about the importance of things like backbone and patience. “Don’t worry so much. If Nie-er-gongzi is here as his brother’s representative, that must mean he’s accepted the match.”

Or that he was here to sabotage it, but he appreciated her good faith interpretation.

“Please, just Huaisang is fine,” he said, smiling at her. “You’ll be my sister-in-law soon enough, won’t you?”

“We haven’t agreed yet!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed.

“Oh, like your opinion matters,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes. “You know how many people have put good money down on you leaving the Jiang sect in the next three-to-six months?”

That got all of them looking like they’d just been unexpectedly stabbed in the chest, Jiang Yanli included.

“What?” he asked, batting his eyelashes innocently at them. “Did I say something wrong? Everyone knows you aren’t doing anything for the Jiang sect anymore, Wei-xiong. All the rumors says so, and the only reason for that is if you were planning on ditching now that you don’t need them anymore.”

“That’s enough,” Jiang Yanli said, and there was a bit of steel in her voice. “A-Xian isn’t leaving, and even if he was, his opinion on my marriage would still matter to me.”

“That’s one of the reasons I objected,” Nie Huaisang said to her, deciding that she was clearly the only one mature enough to have this extremely necessary discussion with. “Meaning no offense, but in every possible respect, you’re a bad match. If you marry my brother, will you be expecting him to run around defending everything the Yiling Patriarch does whenever he’s in the mood to thumb his nose at the cultivation world? Or paying for the Lotus Pier’s reconstruction costs, even though Jiang-xiong hasn’t made a single overture to our Nie sect in terms of reestablishing trade routes or even just swapping craftsmen for mutual benefit?”

Both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were positively black in the face.

“Of course, even if you weren’t going to anchor him down with even more political obligations, there’s your personal value,” Nie Huaisang continued, tapping his finger against his cheek. “Word has it that you’re weak and sickly. Who’s to say that you won’t die along with the first child you bear –”

“How dare you talk about my shijie like that!” Wei Wuxian shouted, slamming his hand down on the table, while Jiang Cheng’s Zidian crackled lightning like an overactive firework. “How dare you –”

“And do you still support the marriage, even with all of these disadvantages?” Jiang Yanli asked, holding up her hands to hold her brothers back. Her eyes were a bit wet, but she was otherwise unperturbed, at least on the surface.

“I do, actually,” Nie Huaisang said, pleased. Even if she went to go cry later, which he didn’t think she would, she’d done well enough to pass his personal test of what constituted backbone. “My brother doesn’t care about politics, we have plenty of money, and there’s doctors for the rest of it. If you’re really willing to put in the effort, I’d be happy to call you my sister-in-law.”

Jiang Cheng was hissing like a pot of water on the boil. Wei Wuxian was grinding his teeth.

“I appreciate that,” Jiang Yanli said, disregarding them entirely. “I can promise you that I’ll do my best.”

“Good, good,” Nie Huaisang said, and grinned at her. “There’s only enough room for one useless flower vase in the Nie household, and the position is taken. By me, if that’s not clear. I brought my brother’s eight characters – do you have yours at hand? We can calculate the auspicious date immediately.”

“I still haven’t agreed!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, and Jiang Yanli reached out to touch his arm lightly. “I haven’t! Jiejie, you don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to, no matter what good things you think it’d bring to the sect, okay? You should marry for love!”

“Jiang Cheng’s right, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “You should get anyone you like. Even if you still want that stupid Jin sect peacock, we’d find a way to get him for you.”

Nie Huaisang looked at Jiang Yanli carefully at that one. It was even odds if his brother minded her having some vestigial affections, especially in the beginning, but he himself wouldn’t be having any of that – least of all with a Jin, no matter how much better Jin Zixuan seemed to be than his father.

His brother deserved someone who would put him first, this time.

“No, thank you,” she said without the slightest hesitation, and Nie Huaisang nodded in approval. “Young Master Jin has made his opinion about me clear enough, and not just once. I’m not going to run after him like I think that’s all I’m good for. And anyway, Chifeng-zun is a good man, who you both greatly admire – why can’t I marry him?”

“You can marry anyone you want,” Jiang Cheng said at once.

“And I want to marry him,” she said, and smiled. “At first, yes, it was primarily because he seemed to offer the most advantages for our sect, but…I don’t know. He’s very nice.”

Nie Huaisang mouthed the word ‘nice’ to himself, rolling it around in his mouth like a fine wine. It might be the first time anyone had ever described his brother that way.

“I think I would be happy being married to him,” she concluded. “Even very happy. Will you approve?”

They folded like a stack of cards.

“Oh, I like you,” Nie Huaisang told her, finally but now wholly delighted. “It’ll be good for my brother.”

And it’ll be interesting to see how the Jin sect takes it, he thought with a smirk half-hidden behind his fan. Since you bring the power and influence of whole Jiang sect with you, and the Yiling Patriarch too.

He wouldn’t mention that, of course.

Only an idiot would negotiate against themselves.

[just-like-playing-tag]

THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US WITH MORE APOLLO RAY AU!! aaaa please don't feel pressured to answer this, but how do you think that Ray's relationship with the lambda squad would differ from Norman's? i feel like Ray and Barbara would make an extremely dangerous combination!

OOH thank you so much for promoting this, I loved thinking about it. I think their interactions would be way more chill and informal than with Norman: since he is still the mind, Ray keeps being the boss, but to the Lambda group he feels a lot more like a chill boss rather than the whole intimidating "emperor" aura Norman had going on. Maybe exactly because Ray is a tiny step behind Norman in wits, he necessarily needs to rely on his squad more, which contributes to create a feeling of equality amongst them rather than the impression of interacting with a god. But even beyond that, it's just how Ray is personality-wise you know? He skips formalities and pleasantries, and is always found speaking bluntly. He doesn't care about formalities, and while Norman always puts on a nice face with both his allies and enemies (Gillian / Legravalima), Ray won't hesitate to tell you that he hates you (we could already see him disdaining pleasantries during his private interactions with Isabella). But that also means he'd probably be more chill and relaxed around the Lambda squad, because he simply doesn't feel like he has to put up with any kind of fake confident-and-invulnerable leader like Norman did. Just like in chapter 4 he disregarded sugarcoating the reality of the impossibility of the escape to Emma while Norman wasn't ready to tell her about that yet, Ray as Apollo won't fake confidence or superiority to reassure his comrades like Minerva Norman used to do. He won't try to soothe them in a false sense of safety by acting like he's unerring- that's just not how Ray is. Rather, I think he would act similarly to what he was used to at GF: make his comrades, hisfriends aware of the danger of the situation, maybe even of the impossibility of succeeding without sacrifices, all to make them the more conscious and determinated (reminder that just like Lambda didn't give Norman the chance to grow healthly and rather fomented his most ruthless tendencies in canon, the same happened to Ray in this AU, so he stayed a lot more similar to his old cynic GF self than the post-escape Ray we're used to). He's contrary to sugarcoating because from his point of view that's just creating another impediment that keeps them from being conscious of their position and objective of their chances. Ray is not as confident and arrogant as Norman is: he knows he can't make it on his own, so he's compelled to rely on others in order for his plan to succeed. Making them blind to the difficulty of the situation is not going to help, and that's why, at least when he's with his close collaborators, there'll be a lot less acting like he's invincible. And if initially the Lambda squad won't feel as reassured as they had been meeting Norman, I think on the long run it will be nice for them to believe that they can relly make it, they can create a new world by fighting together, and not because they have an unbeatable being on their side. Even if Ray is more direct and cynic than Norman, I still think he would manage to be enough reassuring and encouraging for the children he rescued. We know how, though never actively trying to become one, Ray showed to be ready and able to step in the role of leader when Emma needed his support. Though we could only catch a glimpse of his operate as a leader, I like to think that right here is how he would behave as one: straightforward and realistic, plainly and clearly exposing the reasoning behind his decisions; but also, somehow, being indirectly reassuring, in the way his people know what they're doing is the most rational way to act in order to guarantee their safety, finding comfort in the fact that their leader is always able to calculate what ensures the most chances of survival for them.

I digress, sorry about that //// Back to the main matter of how Ray would interact with Barbara and the others, I think we need to take into account that, differently from Norman, Ray probably shares their same hatred towards demons. I won't get into that thoroughly, but while I believe that Norman, though indeed hating the demons to an extent, didn't hate them as much as the others (he's repeatedly shown being upset by his lethal actions + honestly I just think Norman is a inherently good, emphatic dude don't @me), Ray definitely held the same resentment and loathing as the others did.

I can imagine, differently from what happened with Norman*, Ray hanging out with the group often, spending time in the forbidden demon room with them, joking and messing around. In the chapter 113 spread, I picture Ray not being somewhere else being dramatic, but instead walking alongside the others.

* (cfr. chapter 130: “It's been a while since I've been here” (Norman) / “I come here all the time” (Cislo) / “It's relaxing.” (Barbara). Norman doesn't sound like he enjoys spending time in the demon dungeon.)

[supercorp-hosie]

Discussion: is Hosie more of a supportive relationship or a toxic one?

While we all agree that Hope and Josie can sometimes be shitty, disrespectful, and manipulative to each other, I think that they are mostly supportive to each other. There are some people that think the opposite and conclude that Hosie is toxic. While I don't have problem with people shipping toxic ships too, I genuinely think that Hosie is mostly healthy for each other. To get a hold whether Hosie is supportive or toxic, I make this list of all Hosie interactions/scenes up to 3x13, which can be categorised as supportive or shitty that I can remember along with some of my thoughts. If you don't agree with me or forgot something, feel free to remind me or discuss them!

Thank you for making me feel the need to make this list. @legacies-supremacy

Thank you for helping me with some of the points. @dreamerdiving

The definition of toxic relationship is: “any relationship [between people who] don’t support each other, where there’s conflict and one seeks to undermine the other, where there’s competition, where there’s disrespect and a lack of cohesiveness.”

I marked those interactions/scenes that is harmful to Hosie in red so we can see it easily.

1. Josie burn down Hope’s room, without apologising

2. Josie made up stories about Hope calling Lizzie witch bipolar

3. Hope and Josie do dark magic together (hope ask for help, kindred spirit in revenge)

4. Hope stand up to Lizzie for Josie, while Lizzie threw Josie under the bus

5. Hope protected Josie by not telling Emma Josie being the one using dark magic with Hope

6. The scene where they pick trash, they connected really fast. It’s shown that they can have good communications between them.

7. Josie pays her respects to Hayley in front of Hope. It means a lot to Hope because she values her family.

8. Hope encourage Josie to voice up, fight for the things she desires. Josie helps Hope on her poked-herself situation.

9. They fought the first monster ever IN THE SCHOOL together. (Hope calls Josie to help, and Josie immediately do so)

10. Fight the spider-like monster together along with Lizzie.

11. The necklace that Hope gave Josie, make quiet things heard.

12. Hope, MG, Penelope save Josie together. Hope is very anxious (maybe more anxious than Penelope seems?), the necklace worked.

13. AU where Hope doesn’t exist, Josie dies.

14. AU where both of them straight up flirting, Hope comes to bring the Saltzmans to the Mikaelsons Boarding School, giving the twins a place to use and improve their magic freely. And mostly like cleans up the mess of Lizzie’s outburst (no blaming here).

15. When Hope was on slug, Josie is the first to suspect that she’s on happy pill, which is very close to the fact. While Landon and RAF see that she’s very happy but don’t think much of it, because they were new to her (no blaming). Landon sees that she’s very happy, said something like, you’re happy for first time ever?

16. Hope tell Josie to let her know if Josie needs someone to “take care” of Penelope.

17. Talent show: hope looks very happy and cheers for Josie when she sings (overly happy maybe because of slug)

18. Josie lets Hope sleep on her shoulder.

19. Josie does not come clean when Hizzie is fighting each other on “Hope telling the school Lizzie is witch bipolar” and “burn her room down to interfere with Saltzmans road trip”.

20. Josie finally come clean about burning Hope’s room and made up stories that causes Hizzie's rivalry, but Hope only cares about the crush. It can be said that Hope is very forgiving for Josie. - *smiles* you had a crush on me? (I mean, girl, she burned down your room)

21. Mystic fall pageant: Josie worries about Hope feelings when Hope finds out about the dress was from Klaus

22. When Josie distances herself from Lizzie after knowing about the merge from Penelope, Lizzie asks Hope to help make the food Josie likes the most. So it’s canon that Hope can actually make Josie’s favourite food? The attempts Hope made to repair the twins relationship show that Hope care for both of the twins.

23. Josie doesn’t want to interact with Hope either.

(May have forgotten hosie scene)

24. Triad: super squad team up, they help each other to save the school, it seems like when Hope says she has more backup, Josie is the one looks like leading them in.

25. Hope caught a bullet for Josie while Josie caught one for Lizzie as Lizzie was trying to catch them for Josie too.

26. Josie encourages Hope for hero time rather than staying by her side.

27. Hope only realised that she caught a bullet for Josie when Alaric asked about the hole on her sleeves. That leads to her knowledge on her blood can save Josie as well as herself being the loophole for Malivore. She tells Alaric to give Josie vial of her blood. (According to some fans, Stefan said that blood sharing is very personal.)

28. Josie is very confident that Hope will make it back to them, and urges Kaleb to have faith in Hope.

29. When Hope jumps into Malivore, something came over Josie, she feels most of the impact (maybe because Landon is dead at the moment)

30. Hope didn’t want to return to school because she sees that both Landon and Josie are very happy. She wants them to be happy.

31. While Josie is being jealous and hostile to Hope, she feels that there’s something off about Hope in her, not only jealousy.

32. Oni episode: Josie continues to be hostile to Hope because of her jealousy.

33. Hope as a badass tribrid, miraculously does not beat or intimidate or threaten Josie because of her hostility, whereas when other people do it, there will probably be consequences.

34. Josie is the one to seek Freya for the dark magic to bring back everyone’s memories.

35. Josie hit Freya using the newly-learned dark magic. Freya said something like even that spell is very powerful for a Mikaelson witch, meaning that the spell can have some strong effects on her. When Josie is questioned whether she knows what to do with the magic, in panic she hit Freya with this magic and run. It means that whether or not Josie choose to bring those memories back herself, there will surely be someone to bring them back when Josie opted not to do it. Even so, it’s Josie that contributed to bringing back people’s memories of Hope, or else Freya can never do it for Hope if the circumstances required her to do so.

36. If Josie is to bring back everyone’s memories, she knows that she will be the one that will be left behind and will be the second choice. She’s the one that will be badly affected, but she knows that she needs to do it, and calls Caroline to encourage her to do the right thing. (Or else why call? What kind of parents will encourage their child to do otherwise.)

37. Josie brings back everyone’s memories of Hope and save Hope and Lizzie from the Croatian.

38. Hope cares about Josie’s feeling to ask whether Josie is okay with Hope staying in the school. She is willing to leave the school for Josie.

39. Despite knowing that seeing Hope hurts a lot, Josie tells Hope to stay, and assure Hope that she belongs with them. For Josie, NO MATTER how much it hurts, she WANTS Hope ENOUGH to let her STAY, as Hope belongs with them. It’s what Hope wants: people thinking she’s worth staying for. It means that NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, she hope that there’s still someone that WANTS HER ENOUGH to STAY for her.

40. Along with the previous point, it’s important to know that Josie tells Hope to stay after SimuLandon told Hope that Landon can’t tell her to stay (the same day as Landon chose to leave the girls). It assures Hope a lot.

41. Landon being a dick(sorry) to breakup with Josie and then immediately restarts a relationship with Hope (disrespect of Jandon relationship, it’s like an opposite of what he said to Josie). Hope being a bitch(sorry) by immediately accept the restart of Handon, disregarding it’s a fresh breakup for Jandon and Josie.

42. Josie avoids Hope because it hurts to see Handon immediately lovey dovey.

43. Santa episode: Hope is the one that handles Krampus-affected Josie when she tells Lizzie to run. Either the Josie being near to Lizzie will affect Lizzie, or Hope just want some time with Josie? For the former part, Hope protecting Lizzie also contributes to supporting Josie.

44. Hope actively seeks out Josie and helps Josie with the mora miserium - placing a protective barrier on it.

45. They confide in each other when they put a protective barrier on the mora miserium. They reveal their dark sides and weaknesses. They support each other verbally. (Hope reveal her jealousy towards Jandon, Josie asked Hope why Clarke chooses her, Hope said that it’s because Josie is a strong and trusting person, etc.)

46. In the Qareem/Wade-is-fairy episode, when Landon died, Hope protects the mora miserium first and passes it to Josie before going to Landon. (It’s a logical thing to do tho, Landon’s death can’t be undo but Hope can prevent Josie from going dark)

47. Hope go to the twins for comfort after her fight with Landon.

48. First therapy box episode: Hope comforts Josie after they come out from it.

49. People in numbers(the Saltzmans including Josie) vs Landon: Hope chose to save people in numbers which includes Josie, instead of saving Landon. (Prison world incident)

50. When Hope astral project into the prison world, Josie is the only one that can communicate with Hope because of the dark magic. It helped to save people and Josie herself in the prison world.

51. People in numbers (the whole school) vs Josie: Hope refuses to kill Josie when basically everyone is ready to kill Josie to save the school(including Alaric). (Lizzie is running away? Understandable tho, her life is in danger) Hope shuts Alaric and Kaleb in the therapy box to prevent them from killing Josie.

52. Dark Josie with Hope in the ring: they weren’t really putting effort in fighting each other before both of them call each other out.

53. I don’t think she even likes you - what’s the point of saying that when it is commonly known between Hope and Josie? So it must mean the opposite(which is Josie likes Hope) and solely to hurt Hope.

54. Josie, fight! - Hope can bring out the true Josie in dark Josie.

55. Dark Josie is agitated when Hope can really bring true Josie out. Maybe it’s because of losing control. But my clownness suggests that can also be a thing that both true and dark Josie do not want to reveal at all - that Hope weighs heavily in Josie’s heart.

56. Dark Josie is ready to kill Hope after Hope brought the true Josie out for seconds.

57. Hope goes into Josie’s subconscious to save her.

58. The actually-consensual kiss: when the pig tell Hope to try kissing Sleeping Josie, Hope respects Josie’s boundaries. But Hope never says that she is against kissing Josie at all because she now does not see her that way at all. = Hope will totally kiss Josie if the circumstances are right with a consent.

59. In Josie’s mind, true Josie really doesn't want to hurt Hope and urge her to leave before it’s too late.

60. Hope encourages Josie to trust herself with her power, that she is good and strong.

61. Dark Josie petrified Hope in Josie’s subconscious.

62. Josie did heed Hope’s words, she believes that Hope is good and strong.

63. Josie defends Hope by calling Landon out on him leaving Hope twice, and he doesn’t actually believe in not giving up love no matter what.

64. After Hope and Landon comes out from Malivore and the prison world, and Landon turns into goo after the unsafe intercourse (probably not using condom considering the result, there must be sexually fluid exchanged), Hope goes directly to the principal office and explains the situation, Josie is first to believe in Hope and is willing to teach her the spell.

65. When Hope’s Therapy-Box Ethan tells Hope that sometimes the right person for her is right in front of her. I think that it’s Hope’s subconscious of him promoting himself initially. But really, Hethan interactions are so little for me to really believe that Hope’s subconscious of the right person is referring him for that. So when Josie turns up next....(I’m clowning, but it means that Hope subconscious thinks that Josie is the right person, talk about faith.)

66. Hope believes that Josie wants Hope to be safe: Hope’s Therapy-Box Josie ants Hope to come with her? It means that Hope knows that Josie will want Hope to be safe with her together. To relate it more to the problem about Hope thinks that Josie runs away from problem and Hope solves them, it also means that a part of Hope wants to not face all these problems too. So part of her is constructing this scene to provide her an option, with Josie.

67. Josie is the only one Hope attempted to save in the therapy box.

68. Josie doesn’t help Hope grieves after Landon turned into goo. (to which I resent the writer’s effort in sabotaging Hosie in the show starting season 3 to make sure they sit right in the “not queerbaiting“ section. It doesn’t make sense that Hosie doesn’t interact at all.)

69. 3x08: Josie wants to help in finding Landon. No matter the motives, she wants to help, and the final results benefit Hope and Landon, not Josie.

70. I don’t need to deal with both Saltzman twins right now - Hope disrespects both twins.

71. Hope gaslights Josie to go help her postponing her date with Finch.

72. Josie believes in Hope too much to fall for her lies when Hope is apparently desperate. (Maybe that’s why Finch call Hope five feet of trouble, or we should believe that Finch is threaten by Hope or angry at Hope out of the blue?) - Hope is Josie’s blindspot too.

73. Josie is upset that Finch will hate her, but doesn’t seem angry about Hope lying( I’m thinking about “you have a crush on me?”, but it can also be understood as Hope lying doesn’t hurt her at all. If this is the case, then Hope = nothing in Josie’s heart, is this true though?)

74. Hope says that she would be there if Josie is to fall into her dark side again even though she believes that Josie is strong enough to withstand it herself. (It’s still manipulation even though Hope means it, right? Don’t want to romanticise manipulation.)

75. Hope guilt trip Josie about Landon and the prison world.

76. Hope thinks that she need more convincing work on Josie after the guilt trip. But Josie surprises her by not needing any further convincing. It seems that her concerns it’s never the danger she could face from the prison world for saving Landon. It’s about the risks of losing herself again by taking her magic back. Both of them don’t know that the ascendant is full of dark magic.

77. Hope tells Lizzie to hold on when they discover that the ascendant is filled with dark magic and according to Josie before that, “you’re going to die”.  

78. Josie steps in for Hope and Lizzie.

79. Hope only realised and apologised when she sees Josie with dark magic and in pain. (It shows the importance of Josie in Hope’s heart, but I think it’s very late so……)

80. When Josie, Landon, Wade ran into the kitchen from Berbelang!Hope, Josie and perfect Landon are in sync in saving Hope. It either means Jandon is very very low-key still a thing, or Josie and perfect Landon actually cares as much as each other cares for Hope. (And perfect Landon is made to love Hope, so if Josie show as much care as perfect Landon for Hope....)

81. Again, why do I care? - Josie: “Because I do!”

82. Josie embrace her magic entirely for Hope and to save Hope.

83. If the definition of true love is like what Wade says, like Landon would never hurt Hope, then we can see Josie is reluctant to hurt Hope either. She wants to consider it carefully before really plunge the knife into Hope’s heart. (But perfect Landon did it, as an outsider I think we agree that’s actually the right call? It’s just too soon when you basically have an hour to think carefully, maybe Cleo can control perfect Landon, so when she got the chance she makes perfect Landon to do it?)

84. Hope apologises for pressuring Josie into taking back her magic twice. Josie give credits to Hope’s words of her and her magic. Hope is very happy for Josie.

85. Hope wants Josie back in the school. It means that she thinks Josie is belonged to the school as how Josie think of Hope previously.

To sum them up, we have 18/85 of Hosie interactions/scenes where they are disrespect of each other, undermining, manipulating, and lying to each other. However, as we can see mostly they are supportive of each other, having good communications, and saving each other’s lives.

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 8

Maul x Sith!reader 

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Yall it has been a God damn week I'll tell you that. So sorry it has taken me so long to get this out. Fair warning, had to do some already known stuffs to move the story along the timeline and I just wasn't feeling it while writing, but it's important to the timeliness nonetheless.

WARNINGS: 18+ P in V sex, unprotected sex, Canon violence. Kinda angsty at the end? Idk.

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       The following morning you awoke alone in your tent. The cool morning air aiding to shake the fog from your mind as you thought of the previous night. A smile twitched on your lips that was soon replaced with a heavy eye roll. One of your pant legs had been torn up the seam by the medic who worked on you. Shrugging, you ripped off the tattered fabric and did the same to the other to match. Sliding on your now short one piece you pulled on your boots, hung your sabers from your hips and left your little shelter.

    You knew why Maul left; he didn't want anyone to think the two of you were involved until the situation was less vulnerable. You were thankful he waited until you were asleep before he absconded into the darkness. Maker, you had to stop thinking about it lest you rile yourself up again. It was time to go to work, continue to prove to your master that you deserved to be at his side. That he needed you there.

    You were relieved that Savage followed behind you a few minutes later. At least you weren't the last one up. Pre and Maul strode through the camp with you and Savage following closely behind.

"We will need an army if we are to successfully take back Mandalore." Your master rumbled.

"The people will support us once we remind them who they are." Pre retorted.

"Perhaps... but the Black Suns will be able to provide us with resources beneath the attention of the Republic."

"They're a crime syndicate!"

"Yes, and a powerful one that will lead to our victory. We have but one chance to pull this off."

      Boarding a Mandalorian starship with your Master and Savage was quiet. You had decided to keep your mouth shut and revel in Maul's ability to command and scheme. You stood at Savage's side with your hands clasped behind your back, back straight and chin high. Your weapons dangled dangerously at your hips. Every so often a Mandalorian would look at you curiously through their visor to which you responded the same every time. You gazed into their black where their unseen eyes lay behind, unblinking with a straight lip and an air of importance until they turned away. Savage quirked a lip slightly every time.

When you were alone he rumbled quietly.

"You make them uneasy. Much more than I do I think."

"I hardly doubt that my friend." Your voice soft and cold in the off chance someone could hear you.

"Possibly... they fear us."

"Good. Then they will stay in line under Lord Maul. A warrior should never show fear. They may be strong but they've shown a vital weakness we will exploit in time if necessary."

    Maul was the only one within ear shot and he silently listened to your words. Although he didn't show it at the time externally, his chest swelled in pride.

    After landing on Mustafar they were greeted with a battalion led by a tall Falleen male by the name of Vigo Ziton Maj. He chuckled when your master harshly requested an audience but he led Maul, Savage, Pre Vizsla and yourself inside the fortress anyway.

    Five more men sat at a long black table upon your entrance. When demanded that they join you, you were met with exclamations of amusement and they attempted to call for your deaths.

    Without hesitation you and Savage each tossed a spinning lightsaber in their direction. Effectively beheading each and every one of the leaders in single mirrored motions. After seeing first handedly that denial of an alliance would lead to death, Moj, the next in line to lead agreed to join your cause without hesitation.

    The Pykes practically handed themselves over to you once news about the Black Suns had reached their ears. The offer of their alliance was a grateful surprise to you. Recognizing the slow shift in universal power only spurred your attraction to your master. Visions of you riding his throbbing cock permeated your mind and drifted to his.

    On the ride to Nal Hutta these thoughts only grew in intensity as your sinful need grew. It had been days since he had last touched you and although you maintained an outward composure, your mind reeled. With only a few hours until your arrival, Maul strode past you, pausing momentarily to give you a knowing glance and ever so slight nod of his head. You waited a minute before following his force signature until a supply closet door hissed open. He grabbed you almost violently, pulling you within the small enclosure. He listened to be sure you weren't followed before he turned to you.

"My my what devious thoughts you project little one." He cooed as he pulled you into his embrace. With your back to his chest, he lowered his face into the crook of your neck, planting gentle wet kisses to your sensitive skin and lightly nipping at your ear. You took his hand and covered your mouth to stifle a whimper as he ground his hardening cock into your rear. You could feel the heat of your core as his velvety voice hummed in the ear he was toying with.

"Now, I'd much rather take my time with you but it seems you need some tension released. I'll need you clear headed on this venture. I believe the Hutt Clan will give us the most trouble in forming an alliance. Would you like my help my sweet little apprentice?"

    You nodded fervently, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he slid your one piece down until it pooled on the floor. He bent you over infinitesimally, just enough to grant him entrance. He prodded his hot, firm erection against your folds letting out a silent groan feeling how wet you already were.

"God's I've hardly touched you and your soaking wet you naughty little girl."

    Without warning he slipping inside you, biting one of his fingers to keep from crying out. He thrusted into at a brutal pace, sinking to his hilt with every rut. It didn't take long before you were fluttering around him and tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Maker, you're going to cum for me.. I can feel it... Let go my dear. Cum all over my cock."

    The command he soothed had you unraveling faster than you thought possible. The excitement of the risk at being found out only encouraged your orgasm. Still shaking from the aftershocks, your master bit your shoulder as he throbbed and filled you.

    You hastily cleaned yourself, getting ready to leave before you were caught but Maul grabbed your wrist and brought you back into an embrace. Gently pressing his forehead to yours and wrapping his arms around you.

"Soon you'll be at my side at all times my dear. Would you like that?" His glowing amber eyes meeting yours.

"Yes Master, of course."

    You pressed your lips to his and trying to calm your flush you left the small enclosure with newfound resolve undoubtedly spurred by your bliss.

       Maul had been correct as usual. The Hutts were in fact quite resistant. After hearing that they wouldn't be paid and that the deal was an alliance for their lives, five bounty hunters and the whole guard rushed the room. Desperate for some leverage you deflected the barrage of incoming blaster fire along with your master while leading them slowly out to the landing platform.

Finally, she's good for something you thought as Bo Katan fired rockets into the fortress, effectively killing most of the guard.

    You gave chase back into the fortress and fought the remaining bounty hunters. Unwillingly admitting that they were giving you more trouble than you would've hoped. Darting away from a purple woman with orange hair you kicked a dog off of your master while the bounty hunters made their retreat. Maul was convinced that they wouldn't be a further threat so you let them escape with their lives and empty pockets.

    You ended up having to travel to the gods awful desert planet of Tatooine for Jabba to finally agree to your terms.

       Back on Zanbar you and Savage shared a meal while Maul oversaw the organization of the troops and mixed crime syndicates.

"You seem restless." Savage noted.

"Duuuh." You exasperated. "All this planning and waiting and organizing. Ugh, I wanna go fuck shit up. We've been so busy with the boring shit I haven't even had time to train. Aside from that bounty hunter scuffle."

"Worry not little one, you'll be terrorizing the Mandalorians planet side with everyone soon enough." You scoffed at his response to which he cocked his brow.

"No, I'm not. Master wants me in the shadows. Something about the people recognizing me later on being a problem with his grand scheme."

"He has a habit of only telling half of a truth. Trust comes slowly to him. You know this." You sighed, pushing away your plate and pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Yes, I'm well aware. More so than he would like I'm sure."

"He cares very deeply for you."

"And I him but all this sitting around will get me nowhere. I told you about what happened on Malachor... for the first time since I've joined you two it feels like my feet are taking me some where I'm not supposed to go... it's been weeks and the only thing I've learned in that time frame is how to take his cock in secret, away from prying eyes."

    Savage nearly choked and also disregarded his food and sat looking at you with a pained look in his eyes.

"What will you do then?"

"Honestly? I haven't the faintest idea. All I know is that I'm supposed to 'extinguish the fear but always remember that 'the shadow cannot exist without the light' whatever the fuck that's supposed to mean."

"If you don't know what it means how do you know you're on the wrong path?" You paused at his question.

"Jedi and Sith both always say to trust in the force... I need to meditate on this."

    Savage nodded as you stood from your seat walking back towards your tent. Your master was a strong force user and ever since that night you two had opened up your minds to one another, truly lay bare before the other, it was damn near impossible to keep him out. When you passed him and Vizsla you had known they couldn't hear your conversation but the way that his eyes followed you. A specific crease in his brow. You had no doubt it had anything to do with Vizsla's ramblings, you realized he probably felt your conflict.

    Disappearing into your canvas enclosure you tried to push the thought of your lover, no, your master; down and away from the forefront of your mind. Gods above though, he was your lover. You loved him, so much. What if he was guiding you away from the place you needed to go? Everything felt right before you allied with the Death Watch. The weeks you spent training and traveling to Malachor felt right. But this, this felt like it was his path not yours. If your destinies didn’t cross would he abandon his to join you? Could you abandon yours to join him? You knelt in the center of your tent and straightened your back, closing your eyes. Allowing your mind to rest, allow the wild eradications to still and drift away. This was important. This was your destiny. You suddenly realized why, although you'd never admit it, the Jedi forbid attachments in their freakish cult.

[tf2-hellhole]

Could I request mercs x s/o where the s/o got out of an abusive relationship but they're still some effects left on them? Like getting scared or submissive and quiet when voices are raised around them, or flinching when a person quickly raises their arm/hand, etc? If you're not comfortable writing this, I completely understand, this can be a difficult topic to write about

Sorry this is so late! I hope this post can be of some comfort to those who have experienced abuse.

Please let me know if I’ve accidentally said anything offensive to abuse victims in the headcanons!

Scout:

When you first explain it to him, he’s horrified. Not because of you, but because he’s scared that he might have done or said things that scared or offended you in the past. He awkwardly apologizes for anything he may have said. You can literally see the tension leave his body as you assure him that he never said anything bad to you or that it’s okay because he didn’t know.

He always gives you little touches to comfort you or let him know he’s watching over you while you two or in public. It’s surprisingly discreet, and he doesn’t even make eye contact when he does it, but he’ll do something like brush his hand over yours or touch the small of your back for a moment. He’s not really comfortable with verbally comforting you in public because he’s still paranoid of not looking manly.

After that first initial apology, he can’t bring himself to apologize for any time he scares you, because he still doesn’t know how. But he shows his apologies through quick hugs and little favors. You appreciate that he’s trying to help in the only way he’s able to.

But surprisingly, he does have his moments. On days you’re feeling particularly bad or anxious, he’ll sit next to you and just wrap an arm around you. He’ll probably talk about some of the things he’s been through, like aggressive bullying in school.

Soldier:

Honestly, Soldier’s probably the worst person out of the whole team to date at first. He can be very loud, obnoxious, intense, and threatening, which often terrifies you into submission, even though he doesn’t mean to frighten you at all.

He doesn’t realize he’s been scaring you so badly until one of the other mercenaries pulls him aside and tells him. After that, he talks to you about it at the first chance he gets. He apologizes for frightening you, though he still halfway yells it.

He tries to tone it down around you, by doing things like not talking so loud and asking you to do something instead of demanding it. It doesn’t work very well but the effort is obvious, and after a while you get more comfortable with his behavior.

He encourages you to not feel like you have to be submissive around him, or anyone for that matter. This is AMERICA, the land of FREEDOM, and you shouldn’t have to listen to ANYONE if you don’t want to.

Soldier becomes much more protective of you, though surprisingly he’s not at all possessive or controlling. But he’s loyal as a dog and will always be at your side, ready to support or protect you. And don’t think he won’t punch someone who’s bothering you.

He’s surprisingly a very encouraging partner, and seems to have a talent for pulling you out of your shell and getting you to be more confident.

Pyro:

Pyro, surprisingly, is probably the best to date if you have these kinds of fears. They’re so patient with you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. It’s actually rather funny that Pyro is so unbelievable brutal on the battlefield, but whenever they’re around you they’re so gentle and accommodating.

They would never, ever try to do anything that has a chance of frightening you. If they do, they’re automatically at your side, squeezing your hand and apologizing through their mask. They feel like shit if they scare you and will do anything in their power to make it up to you.

Pyro loves to snuggle up to you when you’re feeling a little stressed due to someone raising their voice or something similar. If you’re in public, they’ll just wrap an arm around you, but if you two are alone, they’ll full on snuggle you.

The reason Pyro is so good to you is because they’re the same way. They’ve never told anybody about their origin, and probably never will but there are things that clue to the nature of Pyro’s upbringing. On rare occasions, Pyro will flinch or jump in the same way you do, and sometimes they’re easily stressed out by the other mercenaries’ bickering. Those aren’t the only things, but they’re a few pieces of a puzzle only you could put together.

Demo:

Demo, for a while, doesn’t notice any of your habits, because he’s usually drunk off his ass. He doesn’t notice it until he’s been sober around you a few times and picks up on your behaviors over those few times.

When he finally figures it out, he’s mortified about the way he’s been treating you. He’s never abused you, verbally or physically, but he realizes that when he’s drunk, his volume, intensity, and emotions terrify you.

He remembers being verbally abused in the orphanage he grew up in, then physically abused by his father. He remembers how horrible it made him feel; it’s one of the main reasons he turned to alcohol. He’s horrified that he may have been scaring you or making you relieve memories because of his behavior. So, he decides to change himself for the better.

In the future, he successfully cuts back on alcohol, so he won’t be acting so aggressively around you. It’s agonizing for his body, but he refuses to back down from the promise he made to himself. He also lowers his voice around you.

He lowkey becomes a little mushier. He’ll go out of his way to give you a quick hug or kiss, cuddle with you, or remind you that he loves you. He never actually tells you why he’s doing all of these things, but you figure it out pretty quickly.

Heavy:

Heavy can be much more perceptive than you think, so he picks up on all of the little clues very quickly. For a while, it actually makes him feel pretty crappy, because he knows he can be very intimidating and intense at times and he feels like he may be the main thing frightening you.

He very bluntly approaches you about it, asking if he’s made you uncomfortable without pushing you to share about whatever’s made you feel so nervous. He apologizes if he did, but either way he pulls you into a loose hug and tells you that, as your s/o, he wants to protect you and you’ll always be safe around him.

In the future, he tries to be less frightening when you’re around. He speaks a little quietly and tries his best to hold in his barking laughter. He’s always softly squeezing your shoulder or touching your back so you know he’s watching out for you, unless you don’t like physical contact, of course. If you don’t, he always clears his throat around you to draw your attention to him, and just looks back at you. The eye contact lets you know he’s watching out for you.

He’s very, very patient with you and your habits. He understands that they’re habits that aren’t always easy to break, but he does remind you of them to help you become more conscious and ease yourself out of these habits.

Engie:

Engie, like Heavy, is very perceptive of other people’s thoughts and behaviors, so he picks up on all of the little clues fairly quickly, maybe before he even starts dating you.

Once he feels like you really trust him, he’ll approach you and ask you about them. He has so many questions such as: Are you comfortable with sharing about your past? Is there anything he can do to help you? Has he been frightening you?

It doesn’t matter if you feel like sharing or not, he assures you that you matter to him, and he would never do anything to hurt you, and you can always trust him. He’s your partner, and he wants to be your rock whenever you need him.

He’s very conscious of your symptoms, and does his best to keep from scaring or offending you. If, for whatever reason, you do become particularly frightened or stressed, he’d sit with you to calm you for as long as you need. He often softly speaks to you to take your mind away from the trigger, and his softer voice often helps. He always has the sweetest smile when he manages to calm you down; he’s really happy he was able to help you. Your happiness means the world to him, and he always puts it above his own, so he’s glad you aren’t scared anymore.

Medic:

Medic, like Soldier, is completely oblivious to your habits for a while. He can be very intense at times, and it often scares you into submission or silence, and he never notices. He doesn’t mean to frighten you, but he doesn’t realize what he’s doing to you until someone else points it out to him.

Once someone brings it to his attention, he realizes what he’s been doing and feels horrible. He confronts you about it- he doesn’t ask why you’re so easily scared, but he just asks if he’s actually been frightening you. When you tell him he has, he’s devastated and brings you into a deep hug, apologizing for his behavior. He feels particularly bad for accidentally making you become submissive, and he tells you he loves you the way you are, and he doesn’t want you to change a bit. Even though he’s notorious for his disregard for other people’s feelings or needs, he values your happiness above all else.

In the future, he tries to tone it down. While he still will yell or bark orders at the other mercenaries, he always lowers his voice when talking to you. He isn’t able to fix all of his behaviors, but it’s definitely an improvement, and enough that you start to become more comfortable with his habits.

Highkey will kill anyone else who scares you

Sniper:

Sniper, surprisingly, notices what you’re doing fairly quickly. He knows he can be a standoffish or intimidating person at times, so at first he thinks he’s just scaring you, and doesn’t consider if there’s anything in your past that’s also influencing your behavior. He has to know if he’s the reason you’re acting this way.

One day, he pulls you aside to ask you about it. He wants to know if he’s really been frightening you, and if you feel like you have to be submissive around him. If you answer yes to either question, he’s horrified. He gently grabs you by the shoulders and tells you that he loves you more than anything on the planet and that you’ll never, ever be in danger as long as he’s around.

He starts trying to be a little more sincere and open to you, because he wants to show you he trusts you and wants you to trust him back. He’s not the best at showing it but you appreciate the effort. No matter what’s happening, he’s always willing to listen to you or protect you when you need him. It surprises you how thoughtful he is regarding your feelings- anyone who didn’t know him well would assume he’s a bit of an ass, but he’s the type of person who’s loyal as hell and values his loved ones deeply.

Spy:

Spy has trained himself to be extremely perceptive, so he notices your habits very quickly. For a few weeks, he just silently watches you, making trying to pick up on all of your habits and their triggers without you noticing. This silent investigation confirms his suspicions. He’s a smart man, and he quickly figures out that your behavior is a result of some kind of emotional trauma.

He never actually confronts you about it. He doesn’t share about his demons or his past with you, so why should he expect you to share everything with him? It’d be unfair. But he does start to remind you he cares deeply for you a little more often. He doesn’t want you to ever feel like he’s not someone you can always depend on. He doesn’t want you to ever feel alone.

But he does start trying to discreetly help you out of your habits, starting with the most harmful. He does things like try to help you develop newer, healthier habits or help you stop being anxious in situations that usually stress you out. He reads a lot about trauma beforehand, and while that definitely doesn’t mean he’s an expert, he at least able knows enough about trauma and it’s symptoms to help dull the mental and behavioral affects of your trauma a little.

[nobodyfamousposts]

ML Spite: Yeeting Off the High Road and Dragging You All Down With Me

Imagine, if you would, a slightly different scenario in our usual “High Road” plot. Instead of turning Lila’s lies against Lila, Marinette uses Lila’s lies against the classmates themselves.

Realistically speaking, in these fics, the class has already made it a matter of sides and have already made it clear just whom they’re going to side with. The fact that Lila has no proof of anything whereas Marinette at least has two potential witnesses to the truth (Adrien and Ladybug) doesn’t seem to matter. That means the classmates are actively choosing to trust the new girl over their “Everyday Ladybug”. And if they are putting their trust in someone they don’t know that well vs someone they do, whom they KNOW is a good person whom has helped them before, that means it’s because they WANT to trust Lila more. It seems that choice is primarily based on this belief regarding what Lila can do for them rather than a matter of whom is actually trustworthy.

Under these circumstances, trying to reveal Lila will only backfire. Lila can just pull out the crocodile tears and claim she “only wanted to make friends”, and you know the class will eat it up because a positive impression of someone can’t be broken that easily when people REALLY want to believe the best of the person involved.

To beat Lila, Marinette realizes she can’t just disprove Lila’s claims or even let Lila accidentally out herself. That won’t be enough to get the class our from under her thrall.

No. What she has to do is make Lila’s lies unappealing.

Cue Pettynette’s version of the “High Road”.

“But wait!” I can hear you say. “Hasn't that been done?”

Not like this.

In the other versions, Marinette, even when being petty, kept her focus on Lila and twisting her lies against her.

In this case, Marinette is twisting Lila’s lies against everyone else.

Marinette “apologizes” for doubting Lila, making the classmates happy that she’s seen the light. And she has! So she’s going to "do right by Lila”.

Lila is suspicious, but Marinette seems sincere. She takes the lies and treats them like they’re real. But she doesn’t do it in a way to counter Lila, oh no! If anything, Marinette seems to be going out of her way to give Lila what she wants.

EVERYTHING she wants. Rearrange the seating chart and ensure Lila has the seat next to Adrien. Having people assigned to take notes for her. Making the classmates take turns being her “helper” to complete tasks. Letting Lila avoid the things she doesn’t want to do while keeping her front and center for anything she could be interested in. Lila’s going to have a ball.

The rest of the class? Not so much.

After all, it helps build resentment when they're the ones being put out by Lila's sudden and ever changing "needs". Lila needs a seat close to the door in case she has to leave for an emergency? Marinette rearranges the class seating chart to put everyone BUT Lila in seats they don’t want. Lila can't write out her notes? That's fine. Everyone in class can take turns writing her assignments for her. Lila has an allergy? Gee, guess no more free pastries.

Soon enough, the class starts to have “problems” with Lila.

Nathaniel doesn’t like that he can’t draw in class anymore.

Nino doesn’t like having his time with Adrien or Alya interrupted, or just having to come to school early or stay late to help Lila with whatever she needs.

Rose doesn’t like that she’s been moved to the back because one of Lila’s issues can be irritated by her perfume.

Kim and Alix don’t like that certain sports-focused events have been cancelled because it’s not fair that Lila can’t participate.

Adrien doesn’t like that he’s suddenly getting a lot more time being around Lila than he ever wanted.

Chloe doesn’t care and is mostly unaffected. Sabrina sees no difference from what she normally does. So those two are okay, at least.

But everyone else?

The seeds of resentment are planted.

Not helping Lila is that she’s been taking full advantage of every “good” thing done in her favor. She sees this whole thing as Marinette’s surrender and is both enjoying the special treatment from the class and getting to “win” over Marinette. She doesn’t realize that Marinette only changed her targets.

It just gets worse from there.

Given that she’s been revealed as “Ladybug’s best friend” and how vulnerable she is, they can’t have Lila being alone during akuma attacks. And since Alya is her “closest friend” (and Adrien mysteriously goes missing whenever an akuma appears), Alya finds herself on “Lila Duty” regularly. Naturally, she doesn’t like that this is taking her away from on her blog, especially during akuma attacks.

Ivan and Mylene are involved in various community projects and the like, but now they’re being encouraged (by friends, by teachers, by anyone really) to focus those projects on any of the various issues affecting Lila because “it’s so tragic and they know someone personally affected”. It’s like they can’t get away.

Juleka learns that Lila’s replacing her as a model for various projects since she claims she’s done it before and her poor health issues don’t give her much of a chance to do this lately and you understand, don’t you?

Max doesn’t like that he’s pretty much doing Lila’s schoolwork for her either because of her “injuries” keeping her from doing tasks or her “charity works” keeping her from taking part in projects.

The girls find their Adrien/Marinette ship has been stalled as Marinette insists she can’t do anything to upset Lila and that Lila clearly likes Adrien, so trying to confess would make her feel bad. When they attempt to refute the claim, Marinette merely points to the picture Lila sent out in Oni-chan. (Which both Alya and Nino find increasingly suspicious.)

Lila doesn't know what Marinette is playing at. She thinks Marinette has given in. Marinette is actually going for the long game and slowly building up resentment against Lila over time. While also making the class increasingly desperate to prove Lila's a liar just to get Marinette to stop.

But because Marinette isn't actively appearing petty, they can't reasonably argue against anything she's trying to do regardless of the extra work it puts on them because it makes them look bad. Ms. Bustier admonishes them for being unwilling to help a classmate in need. Lila enjoys the attention and thus plays up the crocodile tears. Marinette gives them looks of such DISAPPOINTMENT when they start to complain. After all, it’s only a small inconvenience to help a friend, right?

And that’s what Lila has become: an inconvenience.

The worst part is they can't blame Marinette for it, since they know she has a point and is “only trying to help”. And after all, isn’t this what they wanted her to do? To put her suspicions aside and help Lila?

Now she is, and they wish she would stop.

Eventually, resentment builds. The classmates don’t KNOW Lila is lying, but they’re less willing to trust her or be blind to the things she does. So they start to be more observant. Looking for reasons to justify not needing to be so “helpful”. As such, they slowly but surely start to notice when her claims don’t add up.

Now they’re paying attention, and each of the classmates one by one come to the realization that “Gasp! Lila has been lying all along!”

Shocker.

But the best part is that they each think they’re the only one who knows. So they each try going to Marinette, the only other person whom at any point expresses suspicion of Lila’s claims, in hopes of getting her support in telling the rest of the class and stopping with the Queen Lila treatment.

Only Marinette just looks at them in confusion. The picture of innocence and naïveté, she tells them they shouldn’t make such accusations.

Even when the accusations involve things the classmates know are impossible. Or Lila claiming credit for things she couldn’t have done. Like Lila getting Ladybug to help out Kitty Section. Or Lila being Rena Rouge.

They’re all convinced, to their horror, that Marinette believes Lila now. They each attempt to convince her of the truth they just realized. 

But Marinette? She just acts oblivious. Why would they say such things about Lila? After all, she's done SO MUCH!

So each of them tries to prove to her that Lila’s lying. They point out errors, note contradictions, and actively look up proof.

But Marinette just points out reasonable flaws in their claims. Maybe Lila left out a detail. Maybe they misremembered what happened. They don't KNOW that Lila didn't help with this brave act. They can't PROVE that Lila doesn't have an injury.

And they’re each caught in a catch 22 where they can’t seem to convince Marinette that Lila lied about anything without admitting Marinette had been right from the start and they had been wrong to disregard her.

The best part is that none of the classmates dare to talk to any of the others. They hadn’t believed Marinette when she tried to warn them, and now even Marinette believes Lila. So much like Marinette in Chameleon, they each think they’re alone in their discovery, so they don't dare speak out to anyone else.

But every one of them is fully convinced that Marinette is caught under Lila’s spell and needs to be “saved”. So they keep trying to convince her of the truth only for her to seem oblivious.

They don’t realize that Marinette is using the “Kill Them With Kindness” only she’s taken the entire class down with her. She will enforce universal kindness with an iron fist until they get sick of it.

And heaven help them all if Felix exists in this variant, If he’s not outright enjoying the show, he’ll waste no time telling each of them how it’s their own damn fault.

Eventually, it all comes to a head. Marinette decides to push things further.

What the killing blow is? It’s really up in the air. Maybe it was the cancellation of a class trip because Lila couldn’t go and it wouldn’t be fair? Maybe Marinette tries to call everyone else in class together to suggest arranging a party for Lila since everyone had been complaining to her (pre High Road) how Lila hadn’t been there for the last one? Or maybe it’s just some random minor thing just just happens to finally be the ONE single straw that breaks the camel’s back.

SOMEONE finally just blows up and starts ranting. Out loud. In front of everyone. How Lila is a liar. How she’s made up everything. And just how SICK they are of trying to be nice to her and accommodate the clear and obvious lies.

Pure silence. The one person who broke is horrified at what they had done.

Until finally...

"Oh thank god! I thought I was the only one!"

Like a dam breaking, everyone else admits to knowing the truth about Lila lying. They each admit they were too worried to say something. And most importantly, they are all just DONE with Lila.

And with the rest of the class now firmly on the same “side”, they all work together to try and “rescue” Marinette from whatever hold Lila has over her by convincing her of the other girl’s lies.

“Marinette, you can’t trust Lila!”

“She lies! About EVERYTHING!”

“She’s just been taking advantage of your kindness!”

“You are too good for her!”

“Please! Please believe us!”

There is true desperation there for Marinette to believe them. That they’re telling the truth. That Lila is lying.

And gee, isn’t THIS familiar?