#aisling lavellan

[greypetrel]

WIP (almost) Wednesday

At the point I was before starting again in three days of working on this during breakfast with the good brush.

I needed the extra curly Curly today, enjoy.

[daggerbeanart]

oc doodles the sequel <3

aisling lavellan, june trevelyan

elanor cousland, arianwen tabris

mihri lavellan

aisling belongs to @greypetrel, june belongs to @layalu, elanor belongs to @ndostairlyrium, arianwen belongs to @shivunin and mihri belongs to @n7viper

[damallarky]

Presenting… the third dumbest thing I’ve ever drawn.

My Lavellan’s into it, ok?

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

science horsegirls wreaking havoc, more at 10

OC collab with @greypetrel! :] This was a whole lot of fun hehe

blank template can be found here!

[cao-the-dreamer]

@greypetrel I did a thing :)

A case of bears and missing pants

It seems Zevran is having a field day, judging by his grin - which could be described as "shit-eating."

All opposed to Cullen, who looks like he's not paid enough to deal with this shit.

(It’s not like the Inquisition members are even paid. Do they at least have dental?)

The dual sources of Zevran's unfiltered glee and Cullen's exhausted misery are a giant ball of fluff and an elf happily buried in the fluff.

Lost in the sauce, one may say.

"Why, no need to fret, Commander," the comfort in Zevran's voice is almost believable, "my darling won't bring any harm to your darling, if that is what worries you."

"You’re talking about the man who set his hair on fire to help an apostate escape."

"Quite the clever plan, indeed."

Cullen's eyebags seem to expand at the comment.

Aisling is too busy inspecting and bombarding the bear with questions to notice the banter in the foreground. As for Galenos, he simply sits back and enjoys the Inquisitor's poking, with the occasional nod or growl.

Let's not forget bears, even magical ones, are unable to talk.

When Aisling comments on letting Cullen ride her if she ever learns how to shapeshift, Galenos turns his head toward the ex-Templar and wiggles the bear equivalent of eyebrows.

(Should we add that Cullen had a crush on this man ten years ago? It is unlikely Galenos has forgotten about the blurted "confession" during the whole Circle clusterfuck.)

In any case, it is written all over Cullen's face he wishes to be anywhere but here. The suffering expression increases tenfold when the bear stands up, steps back, and starts glowing until he is no longer an animal but a man, naked like the day he was born.

Cullen's exasperated "oh, for the love of -" is cut off by Zevran's cackling "avert your virgin eyes, Commander" while Aisling simply pouts.

"Aw, you're not a real bear?"

"Sorry to disappoint," Galenos scratches his cheek with a sheepish smile, unaware half of the courtyard is either looking at anything but him or staring very, very intently. "I could always teach you, if you want?"

Aisling's enthusiastic squeal chases away the remaining on-lookers, but before she can drag him away for a lesson, a hand gently taps on the man's shoulder.

"Aren't you forgetting something, darling?" Zevran asks with mirth.

Galenos scrunches his face in concentration, then brightens and dips Zevran into a passionate kiss before following Aisling while humming a merry tune.

"The pants, mi corazon, the pants!" Zevran manages to say between two fits of laughter.

[shivunin]

Petal-Crowned

Borrowing the lovely @greypetrel's Aisling for this piece! I adore Arja and Aisling both and I also think they would be good friends and good for each other. When I saw her absolutely gorgeous piece of Elowen and Aisling, I couldn't help but want to write a piece to fit it. So---here is my contribution. Thank you, as always, for your friendship and for letting me borrow your baby!

(Recommended listening)

(Elowen & Aisling Lavellan | 874 Words | No Warnings)

"yet here’s eglantine, Here’s ivy!— take them, as I used to do Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true, And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine." ---Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Sonnets from the Portuguese 44..."

The sun was warm, the air was sweet, and half the meadow’s flowers clung to Elowen’s hair. She felt as if she was half-dreaming here amongst the soft grasses and bright colors of this glade, but she knew that she was not. Perhaps the beauty of this place only felt dream-like because things had been so miserable for so long that beautiful and nice things must feel, by some token, somewhat dream-like.

Thoughts better not to dwell on, she supposed.

“When do you think the others are coming back?” she called to Aisling, who was wandering some distance away, judging by the rustling of her feet through the flowers. 

“Hmmm,” Aisling said. “I’m not sure. But look!”

Elowen looked, fingers still busy on the twined flowers in her lap. Triumphant, Aisling held an elfroot plant in the air, dark earth still clinging to its roots. 

“I’m going to bring it back to Skyhold,” she announced, beaming at the slender stalk. “I know just where to plant it.”

“It’s perfect,” Elowen agreed, taking in the slight woodiness of the stem, the healthy green of the leaves. It was easy to plant elfroot seeds, but much more difficult to transplant an existing specimen. For all that it seemed to grow all over Thedas, the plant did not take well to being uprooted. 

If anyone could coax it to take to a new home, Elowen was certain it would be Aisling. 

“Do you want any more of this or should I put it away?” she asked while her friend carefully bundled the plant away. 

Aisling glanced at the saddle blanket they sat on, which also held the open pack and the scattered remnants of their lunch. The cheese was nestled under an active ice spell (Aisling’s contribution; Elowen had never been good with frost magic) and the bread had been set neatly aside where it could avoid any potential dampness. The remaining fruit, purchased from the nearby and very grateful residents of Crestwood, was nestled in an open satchel. 

“Hmm,” Elowen’s friend said. “We can leave it. There’s time to have more later.”

Elowen made a soft noise of assent and turned back to the half-made chain of flowers in her lap. It took a little deftness to do this without losing anything crucial. Petals wanted badly to fall off once the flower had been plucked, and if she was not careful she would wind up with fingers stained green and a chain of battered stems. 

After a time, Aisling sat behind her, back pressed to Elowen’s. Elowen made little progress, half-dozing in the dappled sunlight, and for once she did not blame herself for it. It would have felt silly to hold herself to such deadlines and pressures here. This place was far too comfortable to bring herself to care. 

“Elowen?” 

“Hm?” she roused slightly, eyes heavy, and almost fell backward when Aisling moved away from her. 

“Here!” Aisling said while Elowen steadied herself, “I picked the ones that seemed to fit. See—the green of the leaves here match your vallaslin precisely.”

It took her a moment to comprehend what was happening, fingers still tangled in the chain she’d begun to weave, the sunlight almost too bright now that she’d opened her eyes again. But—while she had rested, her friend had made something beautiful and bright. It hung from her pale fingers now as Aisling held it out: purple and yellow and white against green leaves that—yes, actually would match Elowen’s vallaslin when they weren’t in direct sunlight. The petals of the pansies looked unimaginably soft, velvet-sheened in the sunlight. Aisling grinned at her, smile just as bright as the sunshine in the meadow.

“I think it suits you,” she said. Elowen smiled as the little crown settled over her head and Aisling leaned forward to kiss her cheek. 

What a gift this was. A gift—to have the easy company of a good friend, to sit in the sunlight and smell the flowers. A gift, to be safe and full and cared for

“Thank you,” she murmured when Aisling rocked back onto her heels. Aisling clapped her hands together, eyes fixed on the ring of flowers atop Elowen’s head. 

“It’s perfect!” she said, grinning. 

Elowen leaned forward and pressed her lips to her friend’s cheek in turn, sun-warm and soft as it was. 

“It is,” she agreed, and turned her attention back to her lap. “Perfect. It’s beautiful work, truly.”

Forget-me-nots still clung softly to her fingers as she wove a lily into its place near the center. What a pleasure it would be to give her friend the joy she’d been given. How remarkable, to offer something simple and good to someone she cared for. 

Behind her, Aisling began to speak again, describing a mishap with her dear horse and a thorny bush. Her voice had a pleasant cadence, rising and falling like a friendly and familiar tune. The bees hummed nearby, drifting from flower to flower. Soft breezes brushed past stems and leaves and bobbing blossoms. Sparse clouds drifted between them and the sun, never obscuring the light for too long. 

Elowen listened and found herself glad beyond measuring to simply be herself at this precise place and time. Smiling faintly at the sound of her friend’s voice, she lifted her fingers and wove on.

[ndostairlyrium]

“Naptime, at last” 

by @greypetrel​

There was a lot to do in the house. He shouldn't close his eyes. What he should do was waiting five more minutes for both children to fall asleep more soundly, move both Dorian and Aisling away from him to some proper pillows, rise up and clean the house. The kitchen wall really needed some cleaning after today's shenanigans. A very unwise decision, for him, to think they couldn't actually build a catapult with legos when they announced their project (a kid at school apparently had a book on medieval warfare and they've been inspired). Because what they managed to build was not only perfectly functioning, but also enhanced by magic, and able to throw eggs at breakneck speed and in a high parable... right on the kitchen wall. They have been absolutely thrilled and danced around him, ignoring as per usual all his requests that medieval siege machines were to be used out of the house, and that they shouldn't waste food. Right now, tho, staring at a wall absolutely lurid with eggyolk and eggshells stuck in the goo, so high he would have needed a stair to clean everything, he felt proud of the two five-years-olds, and also incredibly cosy. Dorian's heavy breathing from his head fallen back on his belly, little hands still clutched on one of his books, and Aisling smaller frame curled against his side, a little hand holding his thumb as she sucked her own, they both kept him warm and lulled him to sleep as well. Maybe the two little balls of destruction were right: explaining why and how nuclear reactors could explode was, indeed, relaxing, and better than any of Varric's own fairytales to concile sleep. Yes, he thought, maybe closing his eyes for five minutes and bask in one of the rare moments of pure, homey quiet with the two, when they were just cute and not a very distructive kind of cute, wouldn't be so bad. The eggs on the wall were already dry, after all, and kids grew up all too fast. Solas could indulge.

-

DadWolf is very tired, and also apparently a good human pillow. A direct sequel to this

Collab between myself and the amazingly talented @greypetrel, owner of the sweetest child Aisling and criminal mastermind behind DadWolf AU. Once I saw the sketch I knew I needed to color it, so she kindly provided me with the smoothest lines ever ;; absolutely gorgeous!! It really was a joy to work on such a precious picture! Also of course little Dorian is already devouring such books << who ever doubted that?

Concept, sketch, and inks by @greypetrel Colors by @ndostairlyrium 

[crowetesque]

Backlog: Another years old scribble of my companionquisitor, Aisling Lavellan, with her first nug pet... "Nugget."

[damallarky]

This has been sitting in my drafts for several years now at this point lol….

Ok for reference- my Warden is Seraphina Surana and she romanced Zevran. My Hawke’s name is Janette and she romanced Anders. And finally my Inquisitor is Aisling Lavellan and she romanced Solas.

Seraphina would romance Anders I think. She knew him from the Circle and and while he was older than her by several years they did hang out in the same group of friends. She also recruited him. So they’re friends. And with time I think it could blossom into something more. I also think it would be good for Anders because Seraphina wouldn’t take any of Justice’s shit. For Inquisition companions, she would romance Cullen. They used to have the biggest crush on each other.

Janette would probably romance Zevran. They would match each other’s freak fairly well. For Inquisition she would either go for the Iron Bull or Josephine. The Iron Bull because she would find him very sexy and Josephine because she’s cute and has a low key bit of gremlin in her that Janette wouldn’t be able to resist.

And finally, Aisling. She would love Alistair. She’s a romantic at heart and Alistair would definitely be her knight in shining armor. Like, I could see her pressing that rose and keeping it forever. I also think she wouldn’t mind being the king’s side piece- she knows who he really loves and that would be enough for her. Among the Kirkwall Crew she would fall hard for Fenris. Brooding wolves is kind of her thing.

Bonus Rook since I waited so damn long lmao:

Renan (my Rook) would want Morrigan carnally the minute he sees her turn into a giant fucking spider and rips someone’s head off. Idk who he’d go for among the Kirkwall Crew to be honest. But it would be either Merrill because I think they would be cute together, or Fenris for similar reasons to Morrigan. Finally in Inquisition, Ren would stumble into a romance with Cassandra. Face first most likely. Like Aisling, he is a bit of a romantic, and I could see him serenading his raven haired lady. He’s also into women who could kick his ass into the next Age, so there’s that.

Which DA2 and Inquisition companions would your Warden romance?

Which Origins and Inquisition companions would your Hawke romance?

Which Origins and DA2 companions would your Inquisitor romance?

[petrelfeathers]

DadWolf AU.

Dorian: We need some extra money, let's open an Instagram profile.

Aisling: Sure, do you want to do experiments? Give people something easy and scientifical to do?

Dorian: No, no. I have a better idea. Sunday at dads' can you take out your toy horses and all the accessories you had for them?

Aisling: Sure, but why?

Dorian: You'll see.

Their Instagram profile

[greypetrel]

Be merry swete lorde, my swete knyght, In my bele chose, you fynde alle delyght. (🎶)

It's been sitting in my WIP folder for ages, it was about time I finished it. It's been a little since I last drew them so here you go, someone is very happy the bae is feeling better enough to put up some weight.

[damallarky]

“Save me former Inquisitor Aisling Lavellan. Save me.” - IDK Solas probably

[damallarky]

Aisling is “Birdie” because he caught her singing to herself one day and thought she had a lovely singing voice. The thing is, she has a stutter and also happens to be VERY shy so no one believed him when he mentioned it and it kind of drove him insane.

Aisling could have said something at any point but she thought it was funny so she didn’t.

Quick!! Reblog this with a picture of your Inquisitor and the nickname Varric gives them! (I'm honestly so curious!!)

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Ok, I'll go with some more headcanons about June because yes. Have Aisling, attach her koala style to every one of your blorbos, she's the free-hugs girl from every convention, she's loyal if you feed her.

I think Aisling would approach June very lightly and gradually, burning of curiosity about life in a Circle as a Mage. She could appear pushy, but she's just curious of learning more about how was it and particularly why some Mages would want to have them back as they were, because maybe she's missing something (and none of the argument Vivienne poses is remotely convincing to her). She'll be... Maybe pushy, will not hesitate in apologising if she's being indelicate or prodding but will ask questions. Very directly and without dancing around them when they'll be in more confidence, will ask for help with the theory she hadn't the chance to learn and offer her help in return how she can. Like, with the 1000 and 1 uses of Elfroot and how to forage in the wild because you know that Elfroot is just THE BEST THING EVER, just don't mix it with ivy because ivy is poisonous. 😌

Mmm gotta say how this works out would depend a lot on when this is happening hsfksdf, but imma say if they met anywhere in early or mid inquisition it would be a. Rough Start.

She's super distrustful of strangers in that time anyway, and the moment Aisling starts asking about the Circle? June's gonna go into immediate defensive mode and Alising's gonna get instant rivalry points hflsdjkdfl. Problem is, when a person who does not already count as friend (adjacent) makes a first bad impression they get sorted into the I Do Not Like You, Leave Me Alone category without hesitation, and no amount of trying to apologise or connect is gonna work in that stage (in fact it's probably going to make it worse). However if Aisling leaves her be for a bit after that June would eventually become curious about her as well, specially if she notices that they share interests her nerdy ass would not be able to not talk to her about those lmao

Once Aisling gets June Approved though she'd be much more open to Actually Talk and answer her questions. She's also super touchy with people once she's comfy with them, and they'd hype each other up real good with their passionate ramblings haha. Aisling can tell her all about Elfroot and then June's not gonna shut up about her dracolisk breeding plans or that funky new rune she and Dagna are working on. I don't think anything or anyone in Skyhold will have a quiet minute anymore once they get going

I do think they might clash when it comes to ideals and motivations though, cos June is. Not necessarily a moral person, and especially at the start of DAI she is, well, an ass x'D So def not always easy to get along with, especially for people who challenge her directly (ironic, since she prefers when people speak their mind) (she does get Better at it eventually but it takes quite some time)

[cao-the-dreamer]

I got my hand on a tablet, then on a digital pen, then found a sketch and cleaned it up, aka: baby's first digital drawing! *exaggerating wiping a tear*

Ehi @greypetrel I used your girl as my test subject, I hope that's okay ^^ I needed some loving on the baby bird

Now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna pass out over there *very loud snoring*

[shivunin]

A Gravity Assist

For @greypetrel for Christmas/New Year's c: I was inspired by the piece you wrote about Aisling and Maria in the Western Approach. Here are our girls doing more questionable science! Happy new year, and I am very glad to know you 💗

(Maria Hawke & Aisling Lavellan | 3,042 Words | No Warnings)

Gravity Assist: A maneuver done in space in which a vessel is pulled partially into the gravity of a celestial body in order to alter its trajectory or speed (sometimes called a slingshot maneuver)

“You like her?” Varric said, peering down at the sheet of parchment before him. 

It was late. Most of the Great Hall’s occupants had wandered off or gone on to other duties, and Skyhold slept quietly around them. Hawke swirled the liquor in her glass for a moment, considering her answer. She didn’t need to ask who he meant, of course. There was only one “her” that really counted around here. 

“I do,” she said at last, and searched for the right words to explain why. 

While she’d been trying to become truly anonymous in the Ferelden countryside, Varric had been here and in Haven, helping to build the organization she sought help from now. Obviously, she’d come here with half an intention to stage a rescue. If Varric had actually been held here against his will, she rather thought she would have pulled it off, too. She’d been surprised to find that he was here entirely of his own volition, and even more surprised to find that it…suited him. 

Hawke had arrived at Skyhold wary, though not actually planning to act against the Inquisition. She’d intended to help to the extent that she could—with Carver’s life on the line, how could she do anything else?—but she hadn’t expected to enjoy it very much. She certainly hadn’t expected to find the much-lauded Herald of Andraste…earnest. Kind. Damn good company. 

“You didn’t want to,” Varric went on, plainly following her own thoughts, and Maria laughed. 

“No, I can’t say I did. I was expecting someone more…Oh, self-important, I suppose. Like the nobility back home. I’d heard she was an elf, of course, but I heard just as many say she was any number of other things. It didn’t occur to me that she would be so good at…” she paused, gesturing with the glass while she thought, “experiments.”

“She is that,” Varric said, tapping his quill into the inkwell and scrawling a single line onto the next page before setting it aside to dry. “Couldn’t stop her if we tried, and Curly certainly wanted to try.” 

“Did he now?” Hawke asked, and Varric laughed. 

“Leave it, Hawke. They’re both in one piece, aren’t they? She doesn’t need someone to defend her. She’s got plenty. And, ah—” he laughed, one of the knowing chuckles that’d driven her mad when they’d first begun to know each other, “—I don’t think you need to defend Aisling from the Commander.”

Maria hummed and lifted her glass again. For a time, they were quiet. The fire was plenty engrossing to watch, and the soft scribble of Varric’s quill on parchment was a familiar sort of accompaniment to her thoughts. The whiskey was warm on her tongue when she sipped it, and it was all rather cozy. 

She didn’t like the comfort of  it. Time was running perilously short, there were a thousand things she’d left undone at home, and she was spending her time here attending fetes and trying to keep herself too busy to think. It didn’t feel right to be kicking her heels here when there was so much that’d gone horribly wrong in the world. It didn’t seem—

“Cham—Hawke!” she hardly heard the Inquisitor before the elf sat hard on the bench beside her. “I was looking for you. I had a question, you see. Oh—was I interrupting?”

“Not at all, Lucky,” Varric said, setting the page aside and shifting another closer to him. “Hawke here was just telling me she thought the Inquisitor would be self-important.” 

Maria smiled and kicked him under the table. Varric grunted. 

“What I said,” she informed the Inquisitor, looping her arm through the other woman’s, “was that you have exceeded my every expectation. Don’t listen to him; he’s dreadful at paraphrasing. You’ve no idea the amount of things he left out of that dreadful book.”

“Dreadful,” Varric scoffed. “Dreadful! I’ll have you know I was interrogated over that book, Hawke. For days. Weeks, even.”

“I remember it quite well,” she informed him, for she’d neither forgotten nor forgiven the Seeker for it. 

It had been worth sneaking into the woman’s quarters, she decided, for the clear discomfort the woman had felt without access to any undergarments. Good riddance; may the hares and foxes in the valley below enjoy them well. 

“Did you want to say something, dear?” she added, nudging Aisling. “You seemed excited.”

Aisling, who’d been holding herself very still with visible effort, brightened. 

“Oh—yes, I almost forgot. I had a question to ask you, if you don’t mind the asking, about those force spells you showed me the other day…”

They sat before the fire for some time, discussing magical theory and the likely velocity of a given object if one tried to use a telekinetic spell to hurl it into a gravitic ring. It was pleasant to think about, actually—good exercise for a mind that had taken to pacing itself in circles. Hawke found herself awake long after she’d intended to be, more comfortable than she’d managed these last restless weeks at Skyhold, and relieved to remember that there’d been a life before all this fear. Magical theory existed rather completely beyond the question of Wardens and Callings and would-be gods who ought to have been long dead.

She’d been honest when she told Varric she liked the Inquisitor, but it was more than that. There’d been a horrible, niggling guilt at the back of her mind: she’d known that the Chantry was looking for her, known that she’d been wanted at the Conclave. When the sky had been ripped open, when Varric had told her all that had happened, her first thought was that she should have been there. Corypheus was her responsibility. He was a Hawke’s burden to carry and she had failed. 

If she had been at the Conclave…

No, no; leave that to think about after she got into the bedroom. It would do no good to consider it here and now. 

“Goodnight,” she told the Inquisitor some time later, and relished the comfort of being able to actually hug somebody else for once. Varric, for all his familiarity, had always had a rather low tolerance for her long goodbyes. Aisling allowed them for far longer, to Hawke’s infinite relief. 

It was difficult to realize how much one had come to rely on consistent physical contact until one had lost the opportunity to have any at all.

“Goodnight,” the elf said, squeezing her in return. “Tomorrow morning, maybe later in the week—do you think you have time to test it out? I do think it could be helpful for a variety of applications.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Maria said. “When someone is falling, for example, or perhaps we can find a way to sort of slingshot things using it…or we could use it if you need to fight a dragon again. Dreadful creatures. I was almost eaten by one, you know.”

“Varric told me,” Aisling said, and they unfolded themselves from each other at last. “I am hoping we might use the two in combination to lower goods into the valley and bring them up more easily than the road allows. But—tomorrow!” 

“Tomorrow,” Maria agreed, smiling—genuinely for once, and turned to leave for her quarters

“Goodnight,” the elf said again and bounced away, already patting her pockets for something. 

A notebook, Hawke supposed, or something to write with. When she slipped into her own room at last, she locked the door behind her and tapped into the wards she’d left here when she’d gone away for the day. 

All was well. This annoyed her; if there’d been an issue, it would have been nice to solve something for once.

When she’d finished changing, Hawke slipped beneath the covers and rested a hand over her eyes. She’d thought they would be gone from here by now, had thought they’d already set out for the Western Approach and whatever waited for them there. But—amassing an army and getting it to move took a great deal more time than she’d expected. They would leave within the week, certainly, but it still didn’t feel soon enough. 

No; no. There was nothing she could do about the Inquisition right now. 

Gravitic rings and telekinetic bursts. These, she knew. She turned her mind to the experiment the Inquisitor had proposed until she was too tired to think. When she dropped off to sleep at last, she did so occupied with the thought of experiments and logic, not the pressure of time.

For the first time in days, she actually slept through the night.

|

“What’s happening over here?” Varric asked some time later, and the three mages peered down from the upper level of the ruins. 

It was hot in the Western Approach, to say the least. They’d been up here long enough that the pale Inquisitor was noticeably pink about the cheeks. They probably ought to find shelter from the sun soon, it was only—well. It’d been ages since Maria had worked magic in tandem with someone else, and it was invigorating. She almost hadn’t noticed the time passing at all, but the angle of the sun indicated they’d been up here far too long. 

“Varric!” Aisling called, waving. “Stay right there. We’ll show you!” 

When she nodded to Hawke, the two of them gestured and called forth their respective magics. Dorian, who’d taken more than one turn in either of their places by now, took a long-dry carafe and hurled it into the stream of the first spell. For a moment, it flew through the air, cartwheeling end over end as it was caught in the force of the telekinetic spell. Then, while Maria held the gravitic ring steady, the carafe hit the perimeter of her spell and slowed noticeably. 

Varric, who’d taken several steps back when Dorian threw the carafe, approached slowly. 

“Huh,” he said, and caught the pottery when Maria released the spell. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” she said, clapping twice. “Can you imagine if we’d figured this out sooner? The things I could’ve thrown in my foyer at the manor. But wait—there’s more. We started toying with the rotation of the ring and—”

“—if we are careful about how we aim it—” Aisling interjected, and Maria gestured in agreement. 

“—it can even be used to redirect objects already in motion, so long as there was sufficient force behind it to begin with,” Maria finished in a rush, rocking from foot to foot in excitement. 

“Perhaps you’d better stand back,” Dorian told Varric. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t especially enjoy having a rock thrown at my head.”

“Oh, it was a complete accident—you’re fine now,” Maria said, waving a hand, and he cast her a sidelong glance. 

“Yes, I rather find that healing magic has that effect,” he said drily. “Well, then. Ready, all?” 

“Yes,” the other two mages echoed, and this time Dorian tossed a rock into the force of the first spell. Hawke adjusted the second, concentrating on the way it spun, and they all watched the rock turn in midair and shoot off over the dunes. After a moment, there was a distant thud, and the three mages cheered. 

“Hang on,” Maria called to Varric. “We’re coming down. It’s time for a break, I think.” 

They made their way down the ladder one at a time and Maria drank from her waterskin while she waited for the others. Obviously, she’d known that this would be a desert. She’d known it would be hot, but she hadn’t figured on the air itself being so dry. It felt like she was forever reaching for water to wet her parched throat. 

“Drink,” she told the Inquisitor when the other woman reached the ground. Aisling took her waterskin and drank while the two of them moved into the shade. 

“There a purpose for this trick of yours?” Varric asked, ducking under the other side of the ruins. 

“Always best to keep busy,” Maria told him. “Also, Cullen has banned us from playing with the trebuchet and this is a nice substitute.” 

“Well, perhaps part of the problem is that you continue to call it playing with the trebuchet,” Dorian informed her, capping his own waterskin. “Somehow, he found that less charming than the rest of us.”

“Fie,” Hawke said, flicking her braid back over her shoulder. “The man must have a sense of humor somewhere. I’ve just got to dig a little deeper.”

“Well, they are very difficult to manage,” Aisling said absently, examining a patch of reddened skin on her forearm. “They each take a whole team of bronto to move, you see, and calibrating them properly can be very time-consuming.” 

Hmm, Maria thought. Varric’s comment about the Commander not meaning the Inquisitor harm came to mind again. The woman was friendly enough that it could mean nothing, but…well. She chose to keep her thoughts to herself. 

“In any case,” Hawke said, “this is a suitable substitute. It might even be helpful in the battle to come, I suppose, if your mages can learn it in time.” 

They spoke more as they made their way back to the camp, though the latent exhaustion from standing in the sun and working magic for hours gradually slowed the talk to a crawl. The four of them separated as they neared the camp, each stepping away to clean up. When Maria had finally changed into lighter clothing, she heard a soft sound outside her tent. 

“Inquisitor?” she called, nudging the mess of clothes under her cot and out of the way. 

“Yes,” Aisling replied, “do you have a moment?” 

“Of course; come in,” Maria said. 

Aisling entered, carrying a small, familiar pot of ointment. Maria would have known it from the smell even if she hadn’t already become very acquainted with it. 

“Sunburn?” she asked, holding out a hand, and the Inquisitor nodded miserably. There were already streaks of green over her arms, the skin beneath a bright pink in contrast. 

“If you can do your weather trick, I’ll get whatever you can’t reach,” Hawke told her, “or heal any of the blistered pieces, if you’d like.”

“Just the ointment is fine,” Aisling said, sketching runes in the air. The air in the tent cooled gradually, filled by a fresh breeze from nowhere at all. Hawke sighed in relief and took the little jar of ointment from Aisling. 

“I should’ve worn longer sleeves,” the elf murmured, sitting on the edge of the cot and tipping her head forward. Maria sat beside her and removed the lid from the jar. 

“Probably,” Hawke agreed, carefully smoothing a swathe of elfroot ointment over the back of Aisling’s shoulder. “We’ll have you right as rain soon enough, and it was time well spent nevertheless.”

“Hmm,” Aisling said, and added after a moment. “Are you…feeling better?”

There was a hesitance to the question that Maria understood at once. Do we know each other enough for me to ask? she was saying. 

“Yes, somewhat,” Maria admitted, and gathered more sharp-smelling salve. “Thank you—for all the distractions. I am grateful, truly. You’ve been a—a good friend to me.”

“Oh!” Aisling said, glancing back at her. “I’m glad you think so.”

There was a moment of silence. It would have been easy to fill—both of them were fond of talking—but Maria let the silence rest for a moment instead. Sometimes thoughts had to be given space to breathe before they could be spoken aloud. This seemed like one such occasion. 

“Before you came,” Aisling said at last, her voice very quiet, “I did not think we would like each other. Everyone—so many of them wanted you instead. Before I became the Inquisitor, I mean. I was so sure you’d know what to do where I don’t. I thought, if you’d been at the Conclave instead…”

“I would have died,” Maria told her, for she’d thought about the same thing many times. “Truly. It had to be you. The Chantry was more than half-convinced that I was personally responsible for what happened in Kirkwall. Can you imagine if I’d been the only one left standing after the death of the Divine? They would’ve killed me outright, even if I’d actually survived the destruction at the Conclave.” 

She sighed, setting the little jar aside, and nudged Aisling. The elf turned to look at her, her usual expression replaced by one far more somber. 

“When I told you before that you’re doing great, I meant it,” Hawke said, patting the Inquisitor’s hand. “Really. How could anybody look at all you’ve achieved and think otherwise? And that’s just on the surface. Knowing more—knowing some of what happened in Redcliffe—you’ve a great deal to be proud of.”

“Yes,” Aisling said, squeezing her hand in turn. “I was going to say—I was relieved when you didn’t agree with them. I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too,” Hawke said, smiling. “How else would I have thought to put a fully dressed skeleton in a trebuchet? Who else would have painted targets on boulders with me so we could use them for magical experiments?” 

Aisling laughed. Some of the serious air dissipated, and their conversation turned to other topics. The time for the battle drew very near—only one more day, perhaps two before they would need to make their assault on the keep. There wouldn’t be much more time for this sort of camaraderie. They couldn’t know what would come next; perhaps much of the world’s brokenness would be fixed after the battle. Perhaps it would grow worse. Either way, she was grateful she’d be facing it down amongst friends. 

For months, Hawke had wondered if the rift in the sky was somehow her own fault. Maybe it was. But—now that she’d met the Inquisitor, now that she knew Aisling herself, it was easier to set some of the regret aside. If there was somebody she trusted with the weight of all this, it had to be Lavellan. She had a good head on her shoulders and an earnest interest in understanding how the world worked. If somebody was going to have power over a large swathe of Thedas, Maria’d rather it be someone who wanted to understand why things were the way they were. Also—and this was crucial—she gave excellent hugs.