#... You abandoned all. But held tight to the flame of ambition. No matter how burning.

[luminaryofblood]

Right, so I had no idea what sinistral and dextral meant and did a googling -- sinistral refers to the left hand - left handed. Dextral is right.

Alright. So Miquella abandoned both his arm sinistral and arm dextral.

But when we fight Promised Consort Radahn, he is... Curiously missing his left arm.

Recall the statues of the Haligtree. How the statues showed Miquella having an unusually veiny arm.

A post on reddit mentions how he watered the Haligtree with his blood, and speculated that he specifically watered the Haligtree with the blood from his left arm.

So his left arm represented his connection to the Haligtree.

During the final fight, his right arm returns, and it's with his right that he is embracing Radahn.

His left arm remains missing.

[himooonlight]

who are you? pt. 5 (reggie x reader)

pairing: reggie x reader

word count: 3.3k

plot: you dream about reggie constantly and when you see him perfoming with julie, you decide to ask her about him

warnings: death. lot of angst.

A/N: happy new year, everybody! I watched the show for the 5th time and I noticed some dahlias at Emily’s house so…… yeah, my imagination was running wild for this. Hopefully I gave you guys some answers with this chapter. Hopefully; who knows?

here's chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3 and chapter 4.

1922

  The stage was huge and the curtains were embroidered with CC's. Caleb Covington. The magician everyone was talking about. He wasn't just the talk of the town, no; he was all over the newspaper in different states. 

  In the theater the decorations were either black or gold and the tall man standing in the center was wearing a velvet suit and sparkly shoes. His whole persona and aura were screaming for attention and validation, insinuating how narcissistic and egocentric he was. Because of that, no one could look directly at him without feeling uncomfortable and scared - that's why working for him was like hell on earth; not only because he would make insane demands like finding an enormous glass box in the middle of the night, but also because he wasn't very nice.

  His four personal assistants were holding heavy chains, not very sure if that was a good idea. Everybody was tired, irritated and a little terrified, even though they would never say that out loud.

  That their boss was mad. And he for sure was.

  - This is bigger than us, I can feel it. People will talk about me for centuries!

  Nobody dared to say a thing. They just kept doing what they were supposed to, wondering if this trick wouldn't be too much, questioning where the firefighters were. Even in rehearsals, everything had to be as safe as possible. Caleb, however, was eager to try out this escape idea, saying that the rest of the time was already on their way and that they could go ahead and start.

  One of the assistants was pouring alcohol inside the box, while the other three were getting the chains tight around the magician's body. When five locks were put in place, the only thing missing was the blindfold and the fire. 

  - And now, let's burn. - Covington said. Against his better judgment, the assistent lit up the platform around the box, watching the dancing flames reflect on the glass. Going back to the audience, the four assistants sat there in silence, scared for their own life.

  Caleb didn't wait. He got inside the box with the blindfold and no way to break the chains or open the locks. The box could only open from outside and nobody could get near it because of the fire. And the alcohol inside sure was a deadly combination too, of course. But Caleb Covington was always right, always sure about his odds.

  Until he wasn't.

  When the rest of the crew got to the theatre, Caleb was already inside the box, struggling to get out. He still had one minute to go and the firefighters were ready to help him out.

  Covington didn't think it through; the alcohol wasn't cold and it was more flammable than he thought, so when the glass box exploded, not even the firefighters could save his life. He didn't make it to the hospital and the police couldn't really blame anyone, especially not the assistants for doing their jobs.

  Caleb Covington died a horrible death, performing one of his magic tricks.

  And while he was burning, he blamed others for not getting it right. He was too perfect to be mistaken, so he died thinking he would find a way to be bigger, better and eternal.

  Caleb Covington died wanting revenge, eternity and power.

  Still, he died.

  1974

  The year of 1974 was a roller coaster for Lily Peters. Her baby boy was born and the world was somehow brighter because of him. Somehow darker too.

  His cute little nose brought joy to her heart and his tiny hand would hold her finger like if he were to ever let go, everything would fall apart.

  The roller coaster started going down when he, in fact, did.

  - Listen to me, Lily. - The man said. His tone was low and his eyes were pleading for understanding and compassion. He wanted a family, of course, but everything was so complicated. He just couldn't turn around without trying one more time. - We can move to a different city if you want. We deserve a happy life, don't you think? Together.

  Lily was young. Reckless wasn't really a word to describe her; instead she was smart, passionate, dedicated and bright. Incredibly bright. So when she got home eight months prior with red eyes and shaking hands, her parents didn't comprehend the syllables she was mumbling. Sounded like the world was ending or someone died.

  When "I am pregnant" left her lips, they were surprised. Both of them couldn't think of a single thing to say. Out of shock, they held her, petting her long hair and crying silently with their daughter. The tears weren't a result of a heavy heart or disappointment; the tears were based on joy, love and gratitude. 

  For both of them, at least. To her, not so much.

  The baby boy's dad was an amazing man. He was a journalist known for being honest yet gentle. His articles and photos were always delicate and strong. He was always smiling, always being nice to strangers, always believing in something, in someone. He was also a dreamer; a very realistic one, for that matter. He would dream with his head up in the sky and feet on the ground.

  It was hard for him wrapping his head around what Lily was saying. Maybe it was because he was older than her, but he just couldn't see things from her point of view.

  - I've made up my mind. - Lily said. She kept going down and down, afraid she wasn't going to see the light again. Her decision was a blind intent to make the roller coaster to up again. - I can't keep him.

  Her parents were strongly against the idea of giving the baby away. None of Lily's friends knew about the pregnancy, so there was nobody else to beg her to see things clearly. She could stay in college and still be a mom; she could have a beautiful life with her beautiful son and be happy. There was no reason to fear what other people would say; her son's presence could cure her heavy heart of any nasty remark or malicious look.

  Lily was young and she made a bad choice; one that she would regret forever. But no one could blame her for not knowing better until she knew better.

  - Well, I can. - The man replied. He was crying, holding his son carefully and wondering how could anyone give up on him. - I am going to keep him and be a great father to our son. He's going to be an amazing person and I'm sorry that you won't be there to see it.

  It wasn't an easy decision. 1974 was the year of California Jam, when people could be audacious and careless in a crowd, but scared and small inside of their own houses. Lily was feeling overwhelmed by the responsibilities of parenthood, of her own being and all the life she would have to forget. She wasn't ready, but her son couldn't wait.

  - Lily, darling, are you sure? - Her parents were merely observers. They wanted their grandson around, they wanted to see him growing up, going to school and smiling. They wanted everything they could get, but it was Lily's choice and being a parent didn't give them the right to make choices for their daughter. - Is this the right decision?

  The words couldn't come out, so she just nodded. The sad journalist nodded too, understanding that he was now on his own. Well, at least he wasn't alone and his soul was satisfied with his decision: he could never say that he abandoned his own child. That's something he would never forgive himself for.

  The baby didn't wake up with the comotion and Lily thanked the heavens for it. If she saw his pretty green eyes she would've turned around and begged them to stay.

  Ray instinctively smiled at his mom for the first and last time, still in his sleep. Lily cried when both of them left the house, wondering if she was right.

  - We're going to be fine, Ray Molina. - The man whispered to his son, kissing his forehead. - You are the love of my life.

  1993

  - Hi. Do you have a name or can I call you mine? - Reggie's friends started laughing, embarrassed by his lack of filter. They didn't understand that their friend's words were natural, almost like an instint. Reggie didn't feel that intense connection with anyone there at the book club; let alone with someone he never met before. - Maybe I went too far with that one. I think I have the right to remain silent.

  There he was again, using humor to hide things.

  Reginald Peters was a scaredy cat with a very believable mask: funny remarks and the I-am-stupid façade. His personality was joyful and light, used to hide all the years his mom mistreated him and his dad ignored his existence. Reggie knew he was born to save their marriage, but it was doomed a long time ago, with no saving at all. The boy grew up with no sense of hope for romantic love and no understanding of self preservation.

  And none of that was his fault; his longing for parental support or the lack of ambition in his educational life. Reggie had no one to appreciate him, to build him up, to be there for him unconditionally. That is until Luke and Alex showed up.

  And then Ethan.

  - Reggie, you have the right to remain silent. What you lack is capacity. - Alex said, making Luke laugh even louder.

  People started asking them to keep it quiet, to what both of them complied easily - they loved the snacks there. The boys went back inside to grab something to eat while Reggie and Ethan stood there in the backyard, looking at each other, trying to understand their feelings.

  It wasn't something measurable or understandable. No one could explain the feeling of coming back home that they felt when their eyes met.

  They were both speechless.

  Reggie and Ethan were admiring each other's details. The bridge of their nose, their eyebrows, the way their hair would flow with the wind, their freckles; everything that met the eye. Still, they couldn't pinpoint what it was.

  - Hey. - Ethan replied, holding out his hand. Reggie looked into Ethan's eyes, then his lips and only then took his hand in his. Time seemed to stop around them. - I guess you do have a name, Reggie, but can I call you mine?

  Ethan liked metaphors, so if he were asked to describe that moment, he would've said that it felt like lying down in his bed after a long summer away from home. It was comfortable, safe, heartwarming, relaxing. Great. And Reggie would've nodded his head, agreeing with the comparison.

  Coming back to each other after lifetimes away was refreshing. Living away from each other was cruel and all the hardships were long forgotten with a simple touch.

  Hand in hand, Ethan smiled at Reggie, wondering how long it's been.

  It was just one lifetime, but it felt like forever.

  1994

  - This. You and I. - Ethan said, turning to face Reggie, who looked perplexed. Ethan falted, thinking he read the whole picture wrong. - My parents would kill me.

  Reginald opened his mouth a few times, as if trying to justify himself.

  - Ethan, what are you talking about? - Reggie asked with a scoff. The façade was up again, blending in with the boy's features just well. - We're only friends. I like girls. I flirt a lot, sure, but it's all a joke.

  A joke.

  The worst part about the "we're only friends" card is the "only" part. It was like their friendship was insignificant or insufficient; seemed like the "just friends" made each other smaller. They had the potential to be more, to take up more space in each other's life, to hold a more special value in his heart, but "just friends" limited Ethan from achieving what he really wanted.

  "Just friends" sounded like "I'm by your side, but I'm not relevant enough'’ to Ethan.

  - I'm sorry. I have to go. - A heartbroken Ethan said.

  Ethan shouldn't be sorry - that was the first thing Reggie thought after he left. Ethan should be there, with him, holding his hand and maybe hearing a new song they were working on. Yet Reginald couldn't move, almost like his feet were glued to the ground. Above the loud music, he could hear the clock on the wall, ticking mercilessly telling him he missed his chance to let his stars, his path collide with Ethan's. Above the loud music, he felt stuck in time, not getting older, further away from paradise.

  "Now or never" quickly turned into "maybe next life" to him.

  1995

  Death was about the living.

  Death was about who stayed on Earth, wondering about the words they didn't speak and about the food they didn't taste in the company of the deceased. Death was a silence that people shared because they were told so and because they had no special powers to change it.

  Death was a cry of mourning from the living, a closed coffin, the ashes thrown from a beautiful hill that the deceased could never see or that they loved very much; a dream or a memory. Death was a watch that forgot to keep running, a battery that no longer fed anything, a pause.

  Death was about who wasn't dead.

  Death was about many people who would feel affected by absence. Family, friends, strangers who would question their own existence because of someone's obituary.

  Death was, indeed, about the living.

  In that case, about Rose, Bobby and the boys' families.

  About how Luke's parents almost didn't attend the funeral. Their broken heart was physically hurting them and leaving the house was hard. They kept waiting for their son's return, choosing to ignore the fact that was dead. Emily and Mitch Patterson stayed by the door, imagining their son's figure coming back home. That never happened.

  About how Lisa and Jarred Mercer, Alex's mom and dad, didn't cry. They stared at their son's picture in silence. People came and went, saying they would pray for comfort, but it was just empty. Everything was empty; the words, their bodies, their soul. Losing a son shouldn't happen. It was in the unsaid manual of life: parents should go first. Burying a child was an ache no body should ever feel. The literal body really, considering how physical the pain could be. Alex's parents, for instance, couldn't eat for days. They couldn't sleep or smile. Breathing was painful, remembering was even worse.

  About how Reginald's father was drunk while the priest prayed. He stayed away from everybody, just tripping on his own feet and murmuring "I'm sorry". He wasn't talking about Reggie - he was thinking about Lily, his wife, and how she didn't care about their son. He was apologizing for losing all their money, for gambling, for not being a good husband. He cried too, but his father's angry voice screaming "don't cry, you're a man" echoed in his mind soon enough. He left before anybody could see him.

  About how Rose visited Emily and Mitch many times, always taking Dahlias, her favorite flower, to them. She would just make sure they ate, talk a little bit about life and play chess with Mitch. She won a few times. Alex's parents were too stubborn to accept her consolation in the form of company, but she didn't give up. After a few cookies and a few letters making sure they were alright, she got invited for dinner. She took Bobby with her and they talked about Alex like they had known each other for the longest time. His parents had many regrets and it pained Rose to see it, so she reassured them, from a daughter's perspective, that Alex loved them with all his heart. When she went to college, they lost contact, but the great memories lingered and that helped both families. That's how Rose found her love for social work and the house she wanted to live in the future: someday she wanted to buy Alex's house.

  Death was about how Bobby tried helping Reggie's parents. He looked for them everywhere, but they moved out of town. Bobby even went to Lily's work - nobody knew about her. All his strength was dedicated to honor his friends and their music, so when he didn't find Reginald's parents, he decided to be famous and let them come to him. He worked day and night, finishing the songs, working multiple shifts to get money for a demo and doing his best to be more social. He needed connections, luck and money to make his plan of honoring his friends work. All he had was determination and he hoped that could be a start.

   Death was about all that and many lives affected by the loss of Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer and Luke Patterson.

  2002

  The baby cried with such intensity and still his parents were never more delighted by any sound they've ever heard.

  - Welcome to the world, Richie.

  2018

  The clouds were matching Lucas' humor: grumpy, dark and bothered.

  He wanted to go back to the cafe, to explain his situation to Jarred and Lisa, but his guitar was stolen and his face was still bruised from his last fight. He couldn't just show up and act like everything was alright like he would usually do.

  Living in the streets was easier than staying in the system. The houses he had been to, the families that treated him like a piece of salvation just like the catholic church and indulgences… he was done with that. At least he was trying to make sure he could live freely; as free as a homeless teenager could be.

  He was in a park somewhere when the rain started pouring. At first it was shy. In a matter of seconds, the sky was falling down and Lucas was laughing at his luck. No guitar, no family, no food, no place to go. Lonely, cold and irritated, he started singing as loud as he could. No one was nearby and the world was his.

  There was so much anger in his throat that it pained the boy a little. He was mad, sad and even confused to why he couldn't just fit in. Find a family, have a house, go to school and have friends. The closest thing he had was Richie - the cheerful boy made him feel at ease for the first time in years. They connected instantly, playing together at Alex's Foundation for musicians/people that liked music.

  He wouldn't call everybody there musicians; some people were terrible singers.

  Lucas missed Richie so much. Even though the boy didn't know about his housing situation, he'd always be selfless and give him food. There was one time Richie even gave Lucas his jacket, because, according to Richie, Lucas looked cold. The boy was the brother Lucas wanted, the person worth smiling at, the best friend.

  After a while, the sky stopped crying and Lucas went to his usual spot, close to a 24 hour diner. Sometimes the waiter would be nice enough to give him bread or fries. He never expected anything though; he would just sit and wait. Wait for life, for salvation, for hope, for someone.

  That night Lucas found Richie, Rose and death.

  After the rain, life would never be the same.

[unlockthelore]

An Unexpected Ambition

When the option arises, Rin decides the best route to protecting herself is one that suits her best.

From the series Affections Touching Across Time on Ao3, and part of the Four Seasons fic. For more updates, follow the affections touching across time tag on this blog. For more of this fic, follow the four seasons tag.

While it may sound strange I learned that fighting is more than muscles and ki - to fight for someone with all of your heart - even if you know you might lose, it takes strength.

Inner strength that many don’t have.

You won’t say it, so I won’t either, but I’m glad that you’ve grown so strong.

Keep fighting with all your heart for whoever you want to protect, so you’ll grow even stronger, and be the greatest daiyōkai of our age.

I believe in you, Lord Sesshomaru.

 ----------

The next morning, Rin awoke to the distant exchange of quiet and gruff murmurings.

For a short while, she shuddered and wriggled beneath her comforter, attempting to slip back into a pocket of sleep. Thick waxy thoughts refused to settle in one form as voices churned them about into different shapes and figures.

“When I was that size, I’d’ve given anything for someone to teach me how to throw a decent punch,” a deep voice said, thinned with exasperation and gruff in its speech. Rin could imagine the furrow in its owner’s brow, and his irritable scowl. “ ‘Sides, world we live in isn’t all that safe, y’know. There were dangers before Naraku, and one of these days, she’s gonna have to face ‘em on her own.”

The voice’s owner spat ‘Naraku’ as if it were a mouthful of poison. Rin’s brow quivered and she pressed her lips together to stifle a whimper, trying to banish the thought of creeping spiders and soulless red eyes.

“… Ye have made yer point, Inuyasha,” another voice, wizened and haggard in exhaustion. It was a tone Rin knew well. Seconds away from a chiding remark. “Just know that if any harm should come to Rin —”

A harsh snort interrupted the reprimand. “Yeah, yeah, you don’t have t’ remind me,” Inuyasha scoffed. “If anythin’ happens to her, he is gonna throw a fit.”

He? Rin’s quivering slowed as the image of a silver-haired figure painted across the back of her eyelids, his silhouette illuminated by the moon. He was the one who stood between her and certain death time and again with naught but a blade in hand even when he possessed only one.

“I was going to say ye will have to deal with me,” the second voice filled the void’s silence and echoed but the daiyōkai seemed to pay it little mind.

Sesshomaru-sama?

“She sleeps in my home, we eat meals together, and she has quite the voice for singing and storytelling…”

In her mind’s eye, he furtively glanced over his shoulder, sparing only a sliver of golden eyes away from the unseen foe before him. His eyes, brighter than the sun, were alight with an emotion she couldn’t put to name. What was he waiting for?

“Did ye think me so cold-hearted not to care for her in more than body and obligation, Inuyasha?”

Nothing was said but the unease Rin felt slowly crumbled away.

It’s nothing, m’lord. I’m fine.

Kaede would look after her just as he trusted she would not so long ago. Sesshomaru stared at her for a moment longer then turned forward. His sword flourished, its blade catching the moonlight with an unearthly silver-green tinge. The markings along its edge luminescent with a green glow as he sheathed it then walked on into the light.

Rin held out her hand, fingers outstretched but she could barely see past them as the fog wrapped around him - obscuring his image in a silhouette.

“Keh, I know that. You took in Kagome when she first got here.”

“She told ye about that?”

“Said you were the first person to treat her kindly, even if you were a stubborn old hag.”

“I believe you embellish.”

“Yeah, Kagome wouldn’t call you a hag. She’d probably sit me right now if she heard me say it.”

Giving up with a huff, Rin groggily shuffled upright and rubbed the grit from her eyes, blinking away sleep’s veil. Past the window’s slats, the clouded blue-black sky wouldn’t allow even the moon’s outline to be seen. In lieu of its luminescence, weak firelight spilled past the noren and coaxed shadows to the room’s far corners.

“She will return, Inuyasha,” Kaede intoned softly, and Rin could imagine her peering across the flames. Forehead creased deeply in concentration and eye gleaming in the copper flames. “May ye not forget how to live the life that she helped to forge with ye.”

Rin squeezed the fluff of her comforter’s lining between her fingers, swaying precariously as she tried to wake. She glanced aside and pouted at Kaede’s folded bedding, shuffling to the edge of her futon to touch her comforter’s corner.

It still felt warm and fluffed.

Had she gotten out of bed recently?

Concern for the elder priestess arose as Rin glanced toward the doorway. Nightmares plagued them both; though Kaede claimed her own were nothing more than smoldering cinders, while Rin’s were still-burning flames. Time is what the elder priestess attributed to her current state of mind, and it is what she told Rin to give to ease her own burdens.

However, Rin learned that the saying that time couldn’t heal all wounds was quite true.

When Kaede awoke gasping for breath and shuddering in the darkness, Rin pretended to stay asleep to avoid embarrassing or upsetting her. Her mother’s words echoed in her ears - to cry as a woman was a sign of weakness that not many could afford.

Rin understood it though she didn’t agree. Kaede was one of the strongest women she knew. If she needed to cry then perhaps it was her wounds that needed tending.

On one such night, when Rin heard Kaede’s sobs, she crawled from beneath her comforter and refused to leave the priestess’ side until she found sleep again. Rin couldn’t rid herself of the memory. Kaede’s hand, large and rough with callouses based on the palm of wrinkled fingers, engulfed Rin’s outstretched hand with trembling might. Tears sprung to Rin’s eyes and she fit her fingers in the crook of the priestess’ thumb, clasping tight til Kaede’s trembling ceased.

They hadn’t spoken of that night since, but when tears were to fall whether her own or Kaede’s, the other remained until sleep could be found.

It was one of the few times that Rin disagreed with the ghost of her mother. Crying wasn't a weakness. Kaede wasn’t weak to shed tears. She was holding onto her strength by alleviating the pressure in her heart.

And for that reason, she would always be strong.

“I know that,” Inuyasha murmured after a long moment and his voice was so soft that Rin barely caught it. Were his ears pressed against his head? Did he look down with guilt for doubting Kagome? Or did he just miss her and couldn’t look elsewhere.

Rin’s heart ached for him. She could recall a time where she had felt much the same. Bitterness toward the ones she felt abandoned her but knowing their intentions were in her best interest. Still, all she wanted was to be with them. Her hands trembled as she grasped her comforter’s edge. Was that how Inuyasha felt?

When the thought crossed her mind, no matter how much she tried to remind herself that their intentions were good, pressure built behind her eyes. Tears vying for a place in the world slipped past her closed eyelids, and her best efforts to wipe them away were futile. It wasn’t hate she felt, or abandonment. They were there but it wasn’t that which squeezed her chest.

It was a feeling she couldn’t put to name.

The noren was pushed to one side and Rin squeaked, her hands flying up to her chest as light poured into the room. Backlit by its glow was not the silver-haired figure who tread into the fog but another donned in red, a pair of ears twitched atop his head while his eyes narrowed at her.

“Kaede didn’t mention you were an eavesdropper,” he grumbled, brushing the noren aside with the back of his hand. His scowl and the wrinkle between his brows eased when he crouched beside her, letting it fall behind him. In the dim light, his eyes glowed and Rin’s heart hammered as her mind unwittingly summoned the image of eyes following her in the forest’s brushwood.

“Hey,” Inuyasha said softly and Rin hadn’t realized how far she’d gotten from him to where she was almost falling off one end of her futon. His look of annoyance had shifted into one of concern, hurt reflected in his eyes as he reached out then hesitated, turning his hand palm-up. “Are you alright?”

Rin blinked slowly, inclining her head. What did he mean by that?

Inuyasha pulled back his hand and gestured to his cheek, tapping a claw beneath one eye.

Her own widened and she reached up to wipe at her eyes, startled when moisture came away on the back of her fingers. Wiping at her eyes furiously, she sniffled, “I’m okay…�� and nodded.

When Rin’s hands fell away from her eyes, Inuyasha’s look of concern had been replaced with skepticism. It was strange. Golden eyes, emotional and alight. They were brothers if Master Jaken was to be believed but they were different down to their core. She’d never seen her lord show this much obvious concern for her.

Rin lowered her head and wiped at her eyes again then scrambled up to her feet. Her mind was laden with memory. Her lord’s impeccable countenance presented to her with his back often left for her viewing. Jaken had professed knowing of his moods but he was often rebuked with fierce knocks to the head. Rin trembled at the reverberation of Jaken’s squawks and her lord’s lengthening strides.

On this night too, she missed them dearly.

Rin ducked her head and started to grab the hem of her comforter. Her body tensing when another hand, much larger and clawed, grasped the other end and tugged them gently from her grasp.

“Go on,” Inuyasha muttered, and Rin glanced up at him. His gaze skillfully darting aside when she tried to meet his eye. Guilt ravaged her heart and she glanced down at her hands. Had he been offended by her tears? Or the lack of voicing where they’d come from? Bitterly, Rin thought: it wasn’t his fault that time hadn’t healed her wounds after all.

Before Rin could think of a way to explain, the comforter was slid out from beneath her and she stumbled to climb off of it. Inuyasha gathered the thick fabric into his arms and began to fold it at the corners. The length of the comforter covered his face from view but his ears twitched atop his head.

Without his eyes on her, Rin reminded herself to breathe and fiddled with the hem of her kosode as she slipped past. Inuyasha said nothing, and he seemed so taken with the task that Rin thought he wouldn’t notice her as she pushed the noren aside and stepped out. Yet with a glance stolen over her shoulder, a sliver of gold caught her eye just before the noren fell behind her.

What did that mean, she wondered. Was he trying to give her a way out or maybe he didn’t want to talk anymore. But what was the point of folding her bedding and why did he look at her like that? Questions flooded Rin’s thoughts and drowned out the dull calling barely brushing the surface of her mind. Only when a light touch brushed against her shoulder did she tear her gaze away from the noren and toward Kaede.

The old priestess gazed down at her worriedly. “Yer up early, child,” Kaede tilted her head, her fingers combing through thick sleep-mused locks in a futile attempt to neaten Rin’s hair. She appreciated each stroke and leant against Kaede’s side with a small smile. “I assume Inuyasha began to speak to ye.”

Rin nodded, a backward glance spared before she was led away from the door and toward the fire pit. Her cushion was set near Kaede’s and she knelt upon it with a soft sigh, taking a cup of tea as it was offered. The steam fanned across her nose and Rin took measured sips to mend her frayed nerves.

She knew that Kaede and Inuyasha had been talking about her to be exact, but she couldn’t quite piece together what it was they wanted. Mentions of learning how to punch made her wonder who she would need to fight. And Kaede’s sentiments left her gazing at the older priestess with a deeper degree of fondness. Then there was the slight daydream of her lord which left Rin with the consistent question: what did it all mean?

As if reading her mind, Kaede broke the silence and regarded her solemnly. “From today on, Rin, I’ll have need of ye outside of yer chores.”

Rin perked up and deflated all at once. She did appreciate having the time outside of her chores to play with her friends, or explore new places around the village. “What for, Lady Kaede?”

“The incident with the foxbear,” Kaede began and Rin winced internally. Her discomfort must have shown on the outside because the crease deepened in Kaede’s forehead and she shook her head. “Nay, child. I haven’t called ye to scold or place blame. Merely an act of understanding on this foolish old woman’s part.”

“You aren’t foolish, Lady Kaede,” interjected Rin before another word could part Kaede’s lips. The outburst rendered them both silent but where she might have thought a scolding would come, only a quiet smile was given.

“Aye child, but age and perspective tends to lead one to forget. Allow me to recognize where it is I’ve fallen short.”

Kaede picked up her own tea cup beside the small tray where another emptied cup sat upside down. She took a sip, then cradled it between her palms, closing her eye. Rin looked down to her own cup and sipped in solidarity, allowing the sweet taste to wash down the bitterness of her thoughts. It was an expensive blend if Kaede were to be believed and had come on the last visit from her lord. Perhaps, Rin thought, that is why she thought of him.

“Now,” Kaede said as she began once more, deep shadows pronouncing the wrinkles in her face. “The incident with the foxbear reminds that while ye are safe within the village, elsewhere ye may not be.”

Rin thumbed the ridges of her teacup, her heart pounding. Kaede told her that she wasn’t in trouble for what happened but would she be confined to the village now? The woods were vast, and she was learning the trails better and better everyday. To be without that was unimaginable.

Steeling her heart, Rin murmured. “What do you mean, Lady Kaede?”

Kaede gazed longingly into the flames and Rin craned her neck to one side, attempting to see what captivated the priestess. “An important part of knowing how to live is to defend yerself,” Kaede muttered, and Rin sighed softly, watching the light flicker in a wet brown eye. “What is most precious to ye isn’t always precious to others.”

There was a slight crack in Kaede’s voice, so gentle and soft that it could’ve been missed. Its timing falling in line with the kindling wood cracking and crumbling into the fire pit, its ashes joining others. Rin’s lower lip trembled and she clutched the bottom of her tea cup until the impression of its smooth rounded bottom pressed uncomfortably to her palm.

Before either of them could say a word, the noren swung to one side, slapping against the doorway’s frame. Inuyasha stalked out of the backroom, golden eyes bright with the flames’ glow and some emotion that startled Rin into sitting upright. “What Kaede’s tryin’ to say with all those flowery words is that your life is at stake everytime you run off,” he said brusquely, tossing his head to one side as he bared a firm glower on Rin’s head. “And if you don’t know how to protect yourself, you’ll wind up dead.”

Rin’s breath hitched and Kaede gasped, turning away from the fire sharply. “Inuyasha!”

“The kid’s died twice, she ain’t a pushover,” Inuyasha’s upper lip curled with a sneer as he turned his gaze to Kaede. “Just human.” Rin exhaled shakily and stared down at her cup, seeing her own stricken face in the tea’s rippling surface. “And she ain’t gonna be a kid forever.”

Be that as it may, she can’t behave like this forever, m’lady.

Kaya’s desperate pleas had fallen on Kaede’s deaf ears but they resounded deeply within Rin’s chest. She wasn’t sure what it was that was wrong with the way she was now. Yes, she was young, but she was far from an idiot or naïve.

Don’t be so conceited. Lord Sesshomaru’s honor was challenged, he isn’t doing this for you.

“What happens when she grows up? Going with Sesshomaru, to another village, to hell knows where - who is gonna be lookin’ after her?”

This is a chance for humanity to earn your trust.

Humanity. He’d said those words with such conviction but there was something else beneath it. Everyone talked about her growing up, what she should do, what the world would be like. A chance to choose. Rin braced her hands around the tea cup and soaked the warmth in her palms, trembling slightly. Her lord never told her to fight. He protected her and let her follow along as she was.

Do what you want.

“If you don’t learn how to stand on your own two feet, what’s the point in havin’ them?” demanded Inuyasha, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet as he took a step forward. The red of his suikan ablaze in the fire’s copper glow and Rin slowly lifted her head, staring into golden eyes brighter than the sun.

“Inuyasha,” Kaede snapped, embers crackling and drifting up from the fire as her voice hardened. “That is enough.”

Rin loosened her hold on her cup, her mouth falling open. “I want to protect it…” She could feel Kaede’s questioning gaze, softened and firm at the same time. The old priestess was worried about her but there was no need. “The life Lord Sesshomaru saved… I want to protect it,” Rin insisted, steeling her voice to prevent it from wavering and cracking. Inuyasha’s eyes, although they were bright and sharp in their glower, there was softness to them. A misty sheen as if he were looking at her and not. Rin sighed, allowing her shoulders to fall and her hold on her cup to loosen further until the rim was no longer pressing into her palms. His eyes were just like her lord’s.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone to do that,” she said softly, noting how his eyes narrowed. “Not if I can do something different. Something that only I can do.”

She’s protected people before with only her voice and her body as a shield. It may not have been the right thing to do in Jaken’s opinion or even her lord’s, but she believed it was. And that was all that mattered.

Inuyasha stared at her solemnly, tipping his head up. His eyes glowed as they were cast in shadows from beneath his bangs and she was sorely reminded of the forest and those hungry eyes watching her as she ran desperately. “... And what if you have to?”

Her lower lip quivered and from the corner of her eye, she could see Kaede’s head swiveling to look between them. She seemed unsure whether to let this continue on any longer. Just as she’d been when Kaya and Nishi came. But this time, Rin wasn’t hiding in the crawl space below her hut. She could speak for herself.

She set her tea cup on the wooden floorboards and balled her hands into fists, pressing them to her lap. “Then…” she trailed off as his eyes narrowed, and for a second, she could see the resemblance between them. It was almost as if her lord was staring down at her and waiting for her answer. The answer that she couldn’t give him that day, and one she couldn’t bring to voice when they met again.

I’m alright. I’ll learn how to stand on my own.

“Then I’ll do what I have to in my own way.”

Inuyasha held her gaze for a moment longer. Only the crackling flames and their breaths filling the silence. Then, with a resigned puff of air exhaled through his nose, he turned his head away. “Jinenji…”

“Huh?”

He walked past, his sleeves fluttering with every sway of his arms, reminding her of reddened leaves fluttering on a crisp breeze. “Have you met a demon with big blue eyes, names Jinenji, he’s a farmer.”

Rin blinked at his back then thought about it. She didn’t remember anyone with big blue eyes but the name did seem familiar. “Yes…” she looked away from Inuyasha as he approached the hut’s door, looking toward Kaede instead. THere was solace found in the priestess’ nod and the inquisitive gleam in her eye. “He helped me awhile ago and gave me directions to find medicine for Master Jaken… when he was stung by wasps.”

She shuddered at the thought and how distraught Jaken had been, going so far to even begin bashing his head against a tree trunk. If her fingers had been a bit quicker and if she were a little bigger then perhaps he wouldn’t have had to go through such agony.

“Naraku’s wasps?” Inuyasha asked, his ears perked and head turned to peek over his shoulder at her.

Kaede frowned. “Ye went by yerself, Rin?”

“Yes.” Rin ignored the disappointed look from Kaede, staring down at her hands instead. They were still small. How much could she truly hold in these hands? “Master Jaken needed help and Lord Sesshomaru was gone. I took A-Un with me, and found Jinenji… but he was going through his change and couldn’t come with me.” Her fingers trembled and she curled them into tight fists. How scared had Jaken been when he was on his own? Did he think she wouldn’t have come back? It had already gotten so late in the day at that time. He only had until sundown. And if she’d been a little faster.. More careful..

“I didn’t want to see anyone die anymore… especially not Master Jaken.”

A dull ache throbbed in her chest. She missed the little imp dearly. His heartfelt goodbye every time they visited and the way he would squeeze her so tight almost sprang tears in her eyes. Her sleeve caught on her fingertips and she rubbed at her eyes quickly, trying to stem their flow.

“Seeing as he’s still kicking, I’d say you did alright..”

Rin sniffed, peeking up from her sleeve. Inuyasha had turned to face forward, and she couldn’t gauge how he felt from how his voice sounded. “I’ve been out that way, and the climb is steep… flowers don’t grow near the ground because of all the demons eating at them, so… you had to go a ways to get it..”

“Ye are lucky to have left with yer life, Rin,” Kaede agreed, not quite a scolding but the concern on her face made Rin’s insides warm and tinge with shame at the same time.

She squeezed her hands into tight fists despite their trembling, meeting Kaede’s eye. “I couldn’t abandon Master Jaken,” Rin retorted, her voice pitching as the thought of his bulbous yellow eyes glassy and sightless. “I won’t abandon Master Jaken.”

Kaede held her gaze for a while longer. The thin wisps of smoke rising and the stinging in Rin’s eyes dutifully ignored to keep the priestess’ gaze. She wouldn’t allow herself to be cowed into thinking that her actions were wrong. There was no time to wait for Jinenji, A-Un did all that they could, and Lord Sesshomaru couldn’t be found. She was tired, panicked, unarmed, but even if all she could do was cling to the craggy cliff face and reach for the small cluster of flowers inches from her reach on the ridge - she would.

Because Jaken needed her.

Kaede closed her eyes, then with a gentle smile, she looked to INuyasha and said, “Well, is that proof enough for ye?”

Rin’s hackles dropped immediately and she looked between them confusedly. Inuyasha peeking over his shoulder at her then scoffing, jerking his head forward.

“Hmph. Proof that staff is just for show, more like.”

Rin pursed her lips, pouting. Although Jaken didn’t use his staff very often, that didn’t mean it was for show. He took very good care of it and defended her with it multiple times. Her mouth opened, though before hse could volley words to defend Jaken’s honor, Inuyasha interjected with a soft sigh. “... You did good, kid. That imp owes you his life.”

She blinked slowly, rethinking all of the times Jaken saved her or looked after her. He was grumpy, sure, and in the beginning it was only because Lord Sesshomaru would clobber him if he didn’t — but she appreciated every moment they spent together.

Rin shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, smiling gently. “As long as Master Jaken is alive and well, that’s all that matters.”

Inuyasha’s face was half shrouded but when he turned his head, chin brushing shy of his shoulder, Rin noticed an upward tick of the corner of his lips. BArely registering it was a smile before it was gone and he’d slid open the door, stepping out into the night and closing it behind him without another word.

“I believe ye have a power all yer own, Rin.”

She looked to Kaede, surprised and confused. “Really?”

“Mm…” Kaede nodded solemnly, her smile sad as she stared at the door. “That’s the first time I’ve seen Inuyasha smile in many moons…”

Rin softened and stared down at her palms. “... I see… was that a smile?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know why but…” Rin lifted her head, looking to Kaede, the squeezing in her chest brimming tears in her eyes. “That smile… it seemed so sad.”

[herald-divine-hell]

A Melody of Peace

A/N: So, this isn’t the best fanfic that I ever wrote - not by a long shot. But I did write it, and that’s all what matters, right? I do plan to write a fic with Amayian and Leliana, but he’s such a hard character to write that it’s going to take me a while to get into that sort of writing style that is needed with him and his character. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this. It’s a bit angsty, but sweet, I think. Also, special thanks to @noeldressary​ for doing a little quick over of this fanfic. 

Summary: Alexandra anguishes and Leliana pities. 

Smoke bellowed into the air in thick, twirling puffs of twisted black-gray smoke in the hazy, cloud-filled sky. A red flare slashed through the distant horizon, spreading in heavy waves of crimson that seared the purple-black sky and left in dimming with every pulse and growth. Leliana smelt the scent of burnt corpses and lurid flames in the air, growing thicker and heavier with every passing moment. 

Alexandra sat straight on the saddle of her horse, shoulders drawn clenched and tight. Her mane of shadowy-black hair lashed in dancing waves with the warm gusts of wind that combed through the fields of dying green and stained crimson. The Orlesian countryside was bare and lonely, with the grass dancing with a sorrowful song that came from the low-moaning winds. The hills rose and fell like solid waves, topped with a grassy coat of gold and green that was darkened with shadows that spread over the rolling mounds like a clasping, dark hand. Cassandra and Viveanne flanked the Inquisitor’s sides, with Leliana at the rear. 

The wind whistled through the air and her hands clenched tightly at her reins. Her horse neighed and whined, throwing back its russet-brown mane in annoyance. They were traveling to Val Royeaux, to meet with the Empress and the remaining Grand Clerics who could bare to listen to the Inquisition. It had been Alexandra who suggested the trip. “The people need to see their savior, and they need to see if Justinia’s memory still lives on through her former Hands.” She had been smiling, but it seemed tense and tight, like how her shoulders were with every step of her horse. 

They passed into a village scorned and burnt black with dying amber embers that covered bundling, dimly-lit flames. Thatch-wooden roofs caved and fell into small homes abandoned and forgotten. Few corpses littered the streets. Most were twisted and broken, with twisted faces and entrails seemingly scooped out by the raiders. The ash-and-blood stained mud road was soft underneath the hooves of Leliana’s horse, as if the entire foundation of the village had been built upon soft flesh and seeped blood. 

When Alexandra turned her reins, pulling her horse to a quick stop, Leliana caught the despair and wraith that burned harsh, bright, and cold in her golden-green eyes. The ravaging, hard green flames lurid and thrashed beneath the surface, leaving the gold in her eyes burning. For a brief moment, terror grasped Leliana’s heart in a tight, unforgivable grip. She had seen the Free Marcher angered before, and saw the rising, unfurling power that came in and out from her eyes and voice. But the flames in Alexandra’s eyes were more than rage...it was as if the Maker had taken hold of her, enfolding His power within the mage to amplify the condemnation that she bore for the ravagers of such a small, insignificant village. An icy touch, infused with the wraith of a forest fire, coursed through the air, shimmering sharply in a green-golden aura around the Herald before bellowing in thick waves. With a sharp tug of her reins, Alexandra kicked the sides of her horse and fled with a trot, leaving the air thick with smoldering, pulsing magic. 

The others watched as Alexandra continued along the path, riding down as it twisted sharply to the left. It was Vivienne who spoke, watching as the Inquisitor dwindled into the darkness. “We should have went by sea.” There was no scorn in the First Enchanter’s voice, though those who did not know de Fer, you would have thought her tone was tinged with insufferable annoyance at the Inquisitor’s huff. Her eyes were glazed, distant and sad, as for a moment the appearance of Madame de Fer mattered little in a place of such death and sorrow. 

And yet, Alexandra would still have demanded we came this way. Leliana turned her gaze to the unfurling, soften road. You sweet, foolish girl.

Cassandra’s jaw was clenched. “It’s too late,” she grunted. “Lets go, before we lose sight of her.”

Passing through the burning, collapsed village, the black smoke grew thicker, crawling and thrashing into the sky, leaving a haze of shadows to lick the remaining light of dusk overhead. The blackened ash covered both sides of the path, with broken windows and fallen walls crusted by ebony that leaned and crumbled into heaps of wooden planks and stone. A storm came, and it left nothing but blackened mounds that smelled of rotting and burnt flesh. 

The pathway opened up into a wide clearing of rolling hills of swaying green. The ochre dome was still tarnished with a smear of ink-black, spreading. Bustling softly with warning cracks of thunder, the clouds heaved and tumbled over one another like battling lions. In the far distant, shimmering faintly with the green-golden aura, Alexandra stood upon a rising hill that sloped softly eastward. When they neared her, Leliana had to fight back a shiver at the darkened look that the Inquisitor shot toward the village. Eyes hazed and fogged with a heavy mist, Leliana could see little of the brilliant green and gold. They seemed lost in a chasm of endless, twirling gloom. Her hands itched to push away a rogue strand of black hair that swirled across her eye madly. “Onward,” said Alexandra, in a forced chipper that couldn’t even fool a goat. “Let’s hope we can find a place that isn’t eternally cast in shadows.” Without waiting for a response, Alexandra sent her horse in a gallop, the hooves meeting the earth shouted like a roar. 

They found a decent place to set up camp further up the road, enough away from the gnawing smoke that the stars could be dinstantly shimmering in the dark black-blue sky, like perched flickering candles of white light, in a grove with a shivering waterfall that pooled into a rippling lake. Walls of rounded, misshapen rocks covered in moss rose high and looming; and they chose to cover the entrance way with a veil of knitted pale green leaves, strung with magic. 

Streams of silver light poured through the open ceiling, faintly covering the grass in a pale-washed sheen. The pond rippled lightly as the moonlight twinkled softly over its surface, like a shimmering blade. Alexandra rested on a jutting rock, smoothed and layered with heavy dark green moss. She had tugged off her jerkin of boiled leather, and she rolled her sleeves until they bundled a little past her elbows. Her staff rested at her side, shining with a sphere of crystal-white light, casting away the lurking shadows. Cassandra and Vivienne had already returned - the former more reluctant to give the turbulent Inquisitor the first watch. It had taken a command to get the Seeker to relinquish her duties and head to bed, and she did with all the grace of a huffing child. 

Leliana combed her fingers through her hair, slick with the water from the pond. Shivering slightly from the cool night wind, Leliana drew the cloak that she had kept with her closer around her shoulders. Alexandra glanced up at when the Spymaster drew near, crushing the soft grass beneath her feet. The bath had been more than what Leliana had expected. It was a moment of unparalleled peace - a brief step into a world of tranquility that often escaped her day and night. The water had lapped at her shoulders, with the tenderness of a gentle lover. It did not help that Alexandra had been only a few feet away from her. So near. I could had pulled her in. The Inquisitor might had grumbled, but that would have soon fell away to an eager, captivating laughter. She always did find a way to laugh even in the most dire of circumstances. Leliana did not know if she adored that about her love, or fret even more for her because of it. She wears her mask well - too well, even. But even masks must be taken off for the briefest of moments. And she had grown to read Alexandra during those times, more than even the Spymaster had expected. Her charm and brilliance was no mask; it was merely an amplifier to the woman that was Alexandra Trevelyan. 

But, like a story, a single page or two did not mean it was the whole story. There was more to the daughter of House Trevelyan that even Alexandra would not like to know. A sense of desperation seemed to fuel her desires and ambitions; a hidden world of torment and terror clung to her shadow; and her smile was a thousand words that she wanted to reveal, and a thousand words that she did not. Yet, what that is, even I don’t know. Her beloved was not person who shrouded herself in secrets. Her words were often marred with a frank and bluntness that conflicted with her air of seductive elegance. If Alexandra could speak with eloquence unrivaled by none, then her words, though pretty and alluring they were, held an unparalleled sense of truth in forms of double meanings and false sense of deceptions. Alexandra plays the Game, yet crafts it to her own liking at the same time. She smiles and dances, but she leds and all follow, ever seeking to catch up. Leliana could not deny the bubble of pride that tickled at her chest, but a tinge of something else flickered as well. And what if I can’t? She pushed that thought away with a hard shove. 

Alexandra was smiling when Leliana reached her, green-golden eyes only dimly glistening through the hazy fog. Dark bags tugged beneath her eyes, and she had pinched the strands that helped up the collar of her blouse, revealing pale skin, shining lightly with the caress of the silver light. Leliana swallowed, flickering her eyes away. The smile on Alexandra’s lips was both charming and infuriating. She was half of mind to kiss that quick smile, and to put it to better use. A warmth pricked her cheeks, and Leliana hid it by settling down beside her love, shrouding her face in her veil of copper hair. 

A scent of vanilla filled her senses, light and soft, dancing in the night air. It was a sweet smell, one that calmed the tightness of her nerves. Even in the safety of star-dotted sky, Leliana’s eyes darted back and fro from left-covered entrance way. Her fingers itched for her bow, maybe even some daggers. 

“I don’t enjoy this as much as you think, Leli,” said Alexandra, voice strained and tired, though tinged with a soft allure. 

When Leliana turned to her, her heart sank, tumbling into a chasm of sharp and jagged steel that tore it to shreds. Alexandra’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and brows knitted. Black curls bellowed like shadowy-waves down to nearly kiss the earth. “Which part?” Leliana asked, though she already knew the answer. 

Alexandra’s golden-green eyes were once more shrouded in that thickening, rage-filled fog, blackening and harsh. “We should have sent men there. Surely we have enough. A battalion, at the least.” For a flicker of a moment, Alexandra’s smile had faltered. Leliana found her frown unsettling, unfamilared filled with lost and unfailing anguish. “A battalion, at the least,” whispered Alexandra. “At the least…”

“Even we don’t have the resources to secure the entirety of Orlais and Ferelden. That’s Empress Celene’s duty, not ours.”

The pain in her eyes spoke more volumes than Leliana would had expected. It would had been best to leave it unspoken, her eyes seemed to argue. There was no charade when it came to Alexandra’s generosity in giving alms to the poor; no false smile that she weaved out of sweet lies. Something tranquil often glimmered vividly in those green and golden eyes whenever a hand was stretched out to take an ill elf’s thin hand into her own—almost beatific, in a way. But Alexandra said nothing as she turned to press one finger against the other. The soft light of the moon left her white ivory skin shimmering. A light bonnet of a silvery sheen streaked her dark locks, leaving the curls glistening with pale highlights. 

Leliana watched as Alexandra played with her fingers, her shoulders slumping and her frown growing. She watched as Alexandra rested her hands upon the earth, a light cover of white-blue forest spread thickly over the grass. Her hand moved without her permission, resting on top of Alexandra’s and fingers curling around the broadness of the back of it. Squeezing it gentle, Leliana could feel the coldness of her magic against her palm, prickling her skin. She heard Alexandra gasp, but made no move to pull away. Leliana did not know why she did what she did—if by mere compulsion or something else, but it was not terrible feeling. Alexandra’s hand was firm and callous, with her long, nimble, elegant fingers buzzing with magic beneath her skin, like pulsing blood. 

A warmth burned in Leliana’s cheeks. It was not the first time, she would admit, that her mind wandered to Alexandra’s fingers. She knows how to use them well. Staring at the Inquisitor in the corner of her eye, Leliana brought her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling it softly. Perhaps that was what Alexandra needed right now...a distraction. A world away from the blood and carnage that she witnessed on often. As she gave me that world. Alexandra was generous in her affections, always willing to give, even if there was a sense of teasing that often lingered in her smile and glimmering in her eyes. 

Alexandra had leaned closer, the ice thawing beneath her hand. The grass was left wet and damp as it crumbled against the new cold water. Leliana could feel it brush against her fingers, lapping gentle as it spread through the dirt and strands of green. She felt the mane of curls brush against Leliana’s cheek as Alexandra rested her head on her shoulder. “You need a distraction,” said Leliana, softly. 

The Inquisitor hummed, almost amused. “What do you suggest?” The quietness of her voice had cleared, returning to the teasing tone that Leliana was fond of. 

“I have a few ideas.” A warmth bubbled and formed at Leliana’s naval, spreading down her thighs. 

Alexandra rushed up swiftly, swapping her staff into her hand. “Come.” Her voice seemed a few octaves higher. “I’d like to hear all of your ideas.” There was a twinkle in Alexandra’s eyes, dispelling the fog that had once laden heavily over the brilliant green-gold. She outstretched her hand. 

Leliana tapped her bottom lip, a smile curling at the corners. “All of my ideas?” She allowed her gaze to wander up and down Alexandra’s body, taking in the curves of her hips and breasts, the flatness of her stomach, and the gentle muscle of her arms and legs. It lingered for a brief moment at the revealing skin at her neck, and Leliana swallowed. “Will we have time, I wonder?”

She was pulled up from the earth and into Alexandra’s arms. The smirk that played on the Free Marcher’s lips were both endearing and frustratingly arousing, brimming with a renewed confidence. “There’s only one way to find out,” whispered Alexandra. Her lips grazed over Leliana’s, light and fleeting and teasing.

“Yes,” Leliana said, breathless. Her hand reached forward, combing through the black curls of Alexandra’s hair, “there is.” Standing on her tippy-toes, Leliana pressed her lips flushed against her love, a soft moan passing her lips. And she had almost forgotten the sweetest tranquility of all: the touch of another loving person.

And her heart soared from that chasm of darkness into a blossoming sky of golden light.