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dismalzelenka · 4 years ago

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Dawn

Heyyy! I'm breaking my DA hiatus to submit this brief moderately lengthed ok maybe it got a little out of hand fluff idek anymore anyway it’s for @dapolyshippingday!

Takes place as sort of a postlude in the Your Arms Feel Like Home universe. Cullen/Amell/Jowan, 4500 words. Explicit. AO3 Link Here.

Enjoy!

There was always something otherworldly about seeing the dawn through the skylight windows. Solona was plenty used to seeing those telltale streaks of color from the other end of the day, usually following hours of binge drinking or manic painting.

Waking up to them was much, much rarer.

It took a minute or two to shake the sleep from dream clouded eyes, transfixed as she was on whatever weird liminal feeling this bizarrely early morning instilled in her. Piece by piece, memories of last night returned.

For once, she had agreed to keep the apartment booze-free for a full twenty-four hours. Jowan had insisted. She'd protested thoroughly, of course. "Come on, it's my birthday!" she'd begged through pleading, sparkling eyes, but he'd remained firm.

"Cullen? Back me up here!"

He'd merely shrugged, carefully adjusting the glasses her flailing had knocked askew. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

His flat response drew a rare chuckle from Jowan, who up til that point had been nervously smoothing the front of his blue and black striped button up with unsteady hands.

This was new territory for all of them.

"I swear, love, you'll be happy to have remained sober for this," Jowan promised. The quickly masked wince on his face further highlighted the unprecedented nature of the situation. An unfamiliar familiarity. A pet name she hadn't heard in months, one that felt as foreign now to her ears as it seemed to taste on his lips.

Cullen cleared his throat and broke the uncomfortable silence. "Shall we be off then? Wouldn't want to be late."

"Says you," Solona grumbled. She grabbed her signature leather jacket and bent down to finish lacing up her boots. "Neither of you have said where you're taking me."

"That's what surprises are," Jowan said, affectionately ruffling her hair.

There it was again. A telltale stiffness to a familiar motion, a measure of distance to something that used to flow as naturally as moving water.

The cab ride was silent, but not entirely uncomfortable. Cullen had passed the driver a crumpled slip of paper that presumably contained the address, muttering an awkward thank you in broken Orlesian before clambering into the back seat.

Jowan sat to her right, plaid green and brown scarf clashing horribly as usual with his shirt, shaggy hair unkempt alongside what was at this point a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He had a way of looking thoroughly uncomfortable in almost every setting imaginable, but the warmth of his hand on her thigh told her he was trying his best today.

Cullen sat at her left, curly blonde hair styled back neatly with gel. He'd chosen a maroon sport coat to wear over a black polo with a golden lion stitched onto the pocket. Tucked into dark grey jeans, naturally. Solona doubted the man had ever owned a nice pair of slacks in his life. She'd seen his wardrobe. It was one set of dress blues, two officer uniforms, a single, raggedy set of khakis, and fifteen identical black shirts next to exactly three pairs of jeans: blue, grey, and black, all cut the exact same way.

Maybe she'd get him a suit tailored for his birthday next year.

His boot knocked softly into hers, and when she looked up he was smiling softly at her with something strangely close to adoration, and now it was her turn to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Everything alright?” Jowan murmured.

There was an odd sort of energy in the cab between the three of them. It was as though no one wanted to be the first to speak above a whisper, like the slightest increase in volume would shatter these small and tentative beginnings slowly unfolding across their laps. There would be no first kiss tonight; no, it was far too late for that. There had been a myriad of kisses over the years, a plethora of just plain fucking with the occasional lovemaking sprinkled in, all punctuated by explosive fights and violent nights alone. She had words for all of those things, but this? She didn’t know what to call this. There was nothing in her vocabulary that described the kind of energy that surrounded them.

“I think so,” she said, the words barely a whisper by the time they made it to her lips.

“Alors...” the cab driver began tentatively. “Lequel de vous est l’amant?”

Solona’s head shot up, the suspended stillness shattered by his gravelly voice as the words sank in. “Um,” she began. “I don’t...what...” She felt her cheeks turn pink and she elbowed Jowan in the ribs for confirmation. “Hey, did that mean what I think it did?” she whispered.

Jowan’s face was beet red. “He...ah...yes, probably,” he stammered. “He wants to know which of us is...you know. The um.” He lowered his voice to an even quieter whisper. “The lover.”

A nervous giggle shot out from her lips. “Oh. Oh! Right. Yep. Hah, I um.” She scrambled for both of their hands. She didn’t even have to look at Cullen to see the flush of crimson on his cheeks.

Maker’s balls, how old was she, twelve?

The driver, to his credit, seemed to pick up the implication. “Ahh,” he said, eyebrows waggling. “Ménage à trois, eh?“

Jowan sank further into his seat. “Maker,” he muttered.

“Yes?” she squeaked.

“Ah, très bien,” he nodded sagely as he pulled the cab into a cramped parking space. “Bonne chance!”

“Maker’s breath,” she heard Cullen mutter. He clambered out of the cab the second the driver parked it. Jowan quickly followed suit, offering her a hand to help her out. He refused to meet her eyes.

“So...” she began, fighting the laugh toying at the edge of her breath. “Who’s supposed to be paying him?”

“Oh!” Cullen dug through his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills he then promptly thrust in through the open window. “Um. Yes. Right. Thank you.”

The cab driver laughed. “Merci!” he said. He winked, rolled the window up, and drove off, leaving the three of them standing, rather flustered, at the curb.

“Well,” Solona said finally. “Alright then, where the fuck are we--”

She trailed off as she looked around. In front of her stood the spiraling marble columns of the Musée de Montsimmard, carefully chiseled marble steps rising elegantly to a massive glass entryway where crowds of well dressed people milled about. A smile broke out on Jowan’s face. “Well,” he said finally. “We’re here.”

She’d been to the museum plenty of times already, of course. Between research for her coursework and the occasional casual tour, she was intimately familiar with its layout. Lately, however, embroiled as she was in her writing, she hadn’t been in quite some time, and the familiar delicate wire structures gracing the front pavilion felt like a warm welcome home.

“I hope you like the exhibit we’ve come to see,” Cullen said. She was suddenly aware of him standing behind her, warmth radiating across her back as he gently rested his chin on her shoulder. She glanced tentatively at Jowan, bracing herself for his reaction, but for once, he seemed oddly content, not even a whisper of a grimace on his features. He simply extended his hand again, smile never leaving his face.

“It is quite striking,” he said, eyes crinkling with mischief as he laced his fingers with hers.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What the fuck have you two been up to?”

“Patience, my dear,” Cullen whispered into her ear, sending a warm prickle straight down her spine. He enveloped her other hand with his, a much rougher grip than Jowan’s but no less gentle, and the two of them tugged her forward.

The foyer awaited her, the familiar cream colored walls, plaques, paintings, and sculptures welcoming her in with soft familiarity. She paused for a moment to take it all in, drinking in the comfortable, muted stillness with an almost desperate sort of need. She could come here every day and never tire of it.

Cullen and Jowan, however, had other ideas. “Come on, this isn’t what we came here for,” Jowan said with a grin.

Solona pouted but relented as they tugged her toward the reception counter. Jowan strode forward, and Solona took a moment to appreciate the uncharacteristic amount of confidence he had gained since they’d moved to Orlais. She spoke the language, yes; she had to, for her degree, obviously, but Jowan was the only one of the three of them who was comfortably, conversationally fluent so far.

It was nice, seeing him like this. He’d never been particularly confident in social situations back in Kirkwall. Neither of them had been, really; she was always just better at hiding it behind humor and dismissive indifference, but it was hard to relax in a city filled with the ghosts of so many of her worst memories. Montsimmard was a fresh start for them all, and Jowan was beginning to thrive in the freedom of it.

She and Cullen approached the counter after him. The woman behind the desk, a willowy, freckled, mousey-haired woman with soft brown eyes and an even softer voice stared at her for a moment, wide eyed. “Madam Amell!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “We are so excited to have you here with us today! Please, follow me!”

Solona felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. “Okay, seriously you two, what the fuck is going on?” she said finally.

Cullen said nothing, simply nodding his head after the woman with a faint smile playing on his lips. Solona pouted but relented.

The main exhibition hall branched off to several smaller rooms. They followed the receptionist into one of them, and what Solona saw knocked the air straight from her lungs.

“Thank you all for joining us today!” a guide announced from the podium. “As many of you know, the Musée de Montsimmard rose from the ashes of what was once, for centuries, the largest Circle of Magi in Orlais.We are forever grateful for the patronages that have allowed this incredible undertaking, and continue to allow it to this day.

“For centuries, our city has shined a beacon for anyone with magic shimmering in their veins. In recent decades we have stood firm against countless onslaughts against the personal freedoms of those once caged within these walls. Today, we are showcasing works by a remarkable woman, an artist of incredible talent who has overcome so many of the very challenges this city has striven to eliminate since the Circles were first dissolved. This exhibition is a tribute to mages everywhere: the celebrated, the hated, the many survivors of untold tragedy, and the memories of those who never saw the sun rise on their liberation.”

“Jowan?” Solona felt tears in the corners of her eyes. “Cullen? What is this?”

Cullen said nothing and simply wrapped an arm tightly around her shoulder. Jowan stood at her other side and slipped an arm snugly around her waist.

“Everyone, in honor of the survivors of the horrific Tranquil Solution, in honor of mages everywhere, we present: Liberté!”

“That’s...I...”

In the center of the exhibit was a painting, her painting. A crumbling tower rose in the background. A girl in the foreground stood in rags, a girl with dark curly hair, a girl that represented everything she wished she could have had in her childhood, stood in the forefront, one arm outstretched overhead, triumphantly shooting a beam of light to the heavens as the sun peeked over a horizon of brilliant blues and purples and twinkling stars.

The guide was now reading a brief biography of the artist, of her, but his voice faded into static as she stood in shocked silence. She could recall every moment of painting that image with sparkling clarity, every sleepless night and lyrium binge and emptied bottle of liquor swept to the wayside in manic obsession.

The finishing touches had been done without electricity, by candlelight and mage light, in despairing silence while the streets of Kirkwall burned.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand, we left all of that behind, I thought it was lost forever, how did you--how did either of you--”

“The rest of the precinct helped,” Cullen said wryly. “We went and salvaged it all from your old apartment after the dust settled. It came over with me when I finally packed up and met the two of you for good, and the rest of it was all him.” He gestured at Jowan, who was beaming.

“I may have pulled some strings with some colleagues here,” he admitted. “I was hesitant at first, and certainly not very hopeful, but the director here was, ah, quite enthusiastic about the collection once she saw it and heard your story.”

Solona sniffled and leaned her weight into their arms. “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Would you like us to give you some space?” Jowan asked softly.

She shook her head. “No,” she sniffed. “No. Don’t go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a daze. At some point, the curator approached her and had a conversation that must have been coherent, given the business card that went home with her after the fact, but she would have been lying if she said she remembered what sorts of words were exchanged.

The cab ride home was an equally hazy affair, one with much less decorum than the trip there. She watched the street lights tick by as she lay in Jowan’s arms, feet propped up in Cullen’s lap, taking solace in the weighty feeling of his hands on her calves. It was strange, this feeling settling into her limbs. It was intoxicatingly euphoric, whatever this was. It felt like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day, like putting on a familiar, well-worn sweater that smells faintly of someone you love--

The soft edges slammed into focus.

She sat up immediately. “Stop the cab,” she said abruptly. “Stop the cab, I have to get out, I have to--”

The cab driver shrugged and pulled over, and she scrambled out over Jowan’s lap, almost tripping directly into the pavement. The world suddenly felt too small, the walls were closing in and her chest was gripped by an alarmingly familiar ache and an equally intense, crippling fear.

This was wrong. This was wrong, because there was no way, no way on this earth this was the correct version of her life.

She felt her knees hit the sidewalk and squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t open them. If she did, she would be standing in Kirkwall again, and she wasn’t sure if that was something she could bear the weight of right now.

“Solona.”

Jowan’s voice tugged at the edges of her consciousness. She shook her head. She felt her chest heaving with sobs. Distantly, in the back of her mind, she was aware she was making a scene, but she didn’t know how to hold any of it in. She never had.

“Solona, what’s wrong?” Cullen’s voice this time, floating over her, filled with a familiar confusion.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she gasped through the splitting ache in her chest. “I don’t want to go back. I can’t.”

“We don’t have to, love.” Jowan wrapped her hands in his and helped her stand as Cullen supported her from behind. “This is home now.”

Solona opened her eyes. She could see the street lamps reflecting on Jowan’s cheeks, also wet with tears as he brushed her cheek with his fingers. “This is home,” he repeated, more firmly this time.

“He’s right,” Cullen murmured behind her. She turned and met his gaze, the air slowly returning to her lungs in tiny increments. “Last I checked, we’re all here to stay.”

She nodded slowly, incredulously, looking around at the shops and traffic lights, and at the handful of onlookers glancing over in apparent concern. The air smelled like lavender and magnolia and nothing at all like Kirkwall’s murky blend of industrial smoke and stale saltwater. The signs were all in delicate Orlesian script with the occasional translation beneath here and there. Somewhere to her right, a woman unlocked her car with a dismissive wave of her hand and not a single other person seemed to take notice.

“This is home,” she murmured.

Jowan wiped the tears from her face as Cullen planted a kiss on her forehead. “Home,” Jowan repeated.

“Which, incidentally, is only three blocks away, if you both fancy some fresh air,” Cullen pointed out. “At least, I hope I’m reading that sign correctly.”

The laugh exploded from Solona’s chest, so suddenly she almost didn’t recognize the sound. She turned and planted a kiss square on his lips, then whirled around and kissed Jowan in turn. Reality was shifting again, as it so often did for her, but for the first time in her life, it didn’t feel so bad.

Her shoes were off before she even made it to the front door. Cullen helped her out of her jacket as her fingers made hasty work of the buttons on Jowan’s shirt. Jowan’s lips met hers, softly at first, with only the slightest hesitation, as Cullen slipped her blouse off of her shoulders. The sounds of two more pairs of shoes hitting the floor rang behind her as she leaned into the kiss. She scraped her teeth across Jowan’s lip and drew a weak moan from his throat that sent shivers of anticipation shooting through her core.

She felt Cullen’s stubble graze her shoulder as he planted a string of hot kisses down her shoulder. Her bra came undone, and she flung it clumsily away from her without a single care for where it landed. She almost tripped over her pants as the three of them stumbled to the bedroom, and she cursed quietly as she kicked them away.

Cullen’s hands trailed down to her hips, then back up to her chest, his touch rough and warm as Jowan buried his fingers in her hair. Cullen rolled a nipple between his fingers and she gasped into Jowan’s mouth, every nerve on overdrive as her body craved more.

Her body crashed onto the mattress. Cullen clambered on the bed with her, cradling her head in his lap as Jowan pulled away and positioned himself between her legs. It was Cullen’s turn to kiss her now, fervent and passionate. He smelled like mint and aftershave and for a moment all she could focus on was the way his tongue felt against hers.

Jowan parted her gently with his fingertips. Solona shuddered and gasped when he closed his lips around her clit, warmth blooming between her thighs with the sweet ache of arousal.

Cullen swirled his fingers around her nipples as he cupped her breasts with both hands, pinching with just enough pressure to send lightning through her spine. She reached up, blindly, to touch him, any part of him, but he pulled his hands away and closed them over hers. “Not yet,” he whispered into her mouth. “This is for you right now.”

She could only moan in assent, eyes squeezed shut as Jowan’s tongue between her legs sent her spiraling higher and higher.

“There we go,” Cullen murmured, gently stroking her hair. He shifted his legs slightly as he leaned in to kiss her again.

“Fuck,” she whimpered. The static began to build. “Please.”

“Let go,” Cullen whispered.

And she did. She hit her peak and cried out, body trembling under wave after wave of euphoric bliss as Jowan gently brought her back to earth. She slumped back in Cullen’s lap, letting her fingers trail up his torso as he ran his fingers through her curls.

Jowan kissed his way up to her navel, cradling her trembling body with his arms as he planted delicate kisses along her stomach, trailing upward until he gently captured one of her nipples between his teeth.

Cullen slipped out from his position beneath her head and took Jowan’s place at the foot of the bed as she writhed under Jowan’s touch. “Kiss me, please,” she whispered. She could taste herself on Jowan’s lips, was drowning under his touch, losing herself in the sensations of hands and fingers and lips.

She gasped when Cullen entered her, agonizingly slowly, both hands gently grasping her by the hips as he sank into her with deliberate, measured intensity. The friction made her body sing, and she felt her hips moving almost of their own accord, begging him to move faster.

She would have asked out loud, but Jowan’s fingers trailing down her collarbone, his lips ghosting hot kisses down her ear and across her neck, had left her incapable of finding words for much of anything.

“In my mouth,” she finally managed to gasp, fingers closing around Jowan’s wrist. “I want you in my mouth.”

“Anything for you,” he whispered.

She tipped her head back and let her lips close around the tip of his length. It was his turn to shudder as she swirled her tongue around the head. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his shaft, closing them just tight enough to slowly pump him as Cullen drove into her, each stroke intentional and methodical and filling her with a need so intense it was almost painful.

Where her end was vocal and filled with explosive fireworks, Jowan’s was gentle and quiet. He instinctively moved to withdraw, but she tapped him on the thigh and shook her head ever so slightly, mentally pleading for him not to move. She needed to taste him, needed it so badly it was driving her frantic with desire. She caught his hand in hers and squeezed it, gentle and reassuring as she met his eyes a split second before he gripped back tightly, eyes closing, hips bucking into her mouth as he came.

And Maker, was he a beautiful sight when he did, the way his tousled brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his freckled chest heaving as he caught his breath. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he squeezed them shut, the faintest shy smile blooming across his face.

He was breathtaking, and in this moment she wondered how she had ever pushed him away. She prayed she never would again.

Cullen paused then, withdrawing from her and drawing a whine of protest from her lips. He held out a hand and pulled her gently upright into a deep kiss. “Sit on my face,” he murmured teasingly against her lips. “I want to taste you too.”

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask it. She’d never really speculated overmuch on the nature of their relationship with each other at this point; she’d never seen them be particularly affectionate with each other without her involved. Part of her, truthfully, feared the answer, feared what it would do to this fragile sense of tranquility she’d finally managed to grasp, but the question slipped from her love-drunk lips before she could hold it in:

“Can you kiss each other?”

Cullen’s eyebrows raised, and she heard Jowan shift on the bed behind her. Anxiety gripped her suddenly, and she nervously began to shrink into herself. “You don’t...you don’t have to,” she stammered. “It would...I think it would...”

“I think it would be nice,” Jowan finished. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“As do I,” Cullen murmured reassuringly. He took her hands in his and squeezed them, and when she looked closer, a shy flush had crept into his cheeks.

She scooted back on the bed then, equal parts reassured and transfixed as their lips met. Jowan’s kisses were always tentative at first, each brush of his lips a question softly begging for an answer. Cullen kissed back firmly, decisive and precise, one hand nestling gently along Jowan’s jawline, the other winding into Jowan’s hair.

It was one thing to kiss Jowan. It was another thing entirely to watch Jowan be kissed. Jowan melted into Cullen’s arms, gripping tightly to his back as Cullen claimed his lips, then pulled away and nipped gently at his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck. The way they moved together, hands seeking purchase, bodies aligned, filled her with a need she didn’t even know she had, and she reached between her legs and slipped two fingers into herself with a breathless moan.

She pumped in and out of herself, rubbing furiously at her clit with her thumb, letting out an audible gasp when Jowan disengaged and slowly sank to his knees, hands gripping Cullen’s hips and thighs as he slowly took Cullen’s cock in his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, that is. Maker. You’re both so beautiful.”

“Wait,” Cullen murmured. He ran his fingers through Jowan’s hair before reaching down and gently tugging him to his feet. “I want both of you.”

Solona couldn’t keep her hands off of him as he positioned himself on the bed beneath her. Jowan knelt between Cullen’s legs, and when he looked up at her through sweat soaked hair she almost came right then.

How was he so beautiful? How were they both so beautiful?

How close had she come to losing them both?

And then Cullen’s tongue swiped her clit and her thoughts sank into blissful surrender. She fought to keep her eyes open as she rode him, shuddering when he moaned into her. Jowan’s head bobbed up and down on Cullen’s cock, one hand wrapped around the base of it, the other pressed into the mattress. Her breathing quickened as Cullen traced shapes into her slit, teasing at the tip of her clit until she felt her limbs would catch on fire.

She couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. It was too much, everything was too much, and she was lost without an anchor in a wash of sensation and emotion. She searched for Jowan’s hand on the mattress. Jowan laced his fingers into hers and squeezed, and she wondered if it were possible for her heart to explode with the intensity of it all.

“Please,” she murmured again. She clung to them both, Jowan’s hand in her right, Cullen’s gripped tightly to her left, thighs aching as she climbed into the stratosphere. “Please, please, please.”

She felt Cullen shudder and jerk beneath her, moaning into her as he came, and the vibrations sent her teetering over her peak, plunging into a wave of color and sound and oh, Maker, oh fuck--

When she opened her eyes again, she was cradled between them both. She lay there for a moment in disbelieving silence, listening to them breathe on either side of her, drinking in the warmth of their chests as Cullen nuzzled her forehead with his lips and Jowan whispered soft “I love you”s into the nape of her neck. Twinkling orbs of mage light danced lazily on the ceiling.

This was home, she realized. It was home on a level that shook her to her core, in a way she’d never, ever experienced, because this was a home that would be here when the dust settled. This was a home that could exist for good, a home that came with so much more than the desperate but empty promises of a morning that had never before been guaranteed.

But morning would come.

Morning would come, and she would still be home.

Fin.

Thanks to my partner in crime @laraslandlockedblues for creating this particular AU with me, and an extra big thank you to all of my new fandom friends who gave me the space to let this muse out. I love and appreciate every single one of you.

#dapolyshippingday #lemon #so much lemon #probably a little over a third lemon #solona amell #cullen/amell/jowan #cullen/amell #jowan/amell #cullen/jowan #equal opportunity banging #ot3 #poly triad #amell sandwich #modern au #this was honestly supposed to just be three paragraphs of fluff #idk what happened there #solona's just got big feels all the time ok

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viiisenyas · 2 years ago

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OK I have no idea what chapter this is going to be plugged into for the future, but it’s definitely AFTER ‘A Marriage of Convenience’ so... spoiler: Hawke and Val are married ehehehe. Some context is provided with this segment, but lol just thought I’d throw that out there.

Warnings: Pregnancy, Smut (please don’t read it if stuff like this bugs you!)

Tagged by: @psalacanthea <3

Tagging: It’s late so if you see it, you are tagged!

Valeriana

Her head lulled back against Hawke’s shoulder as she relaxed in the oversized bathtub. The dim candlelight and floral aroma of the petals scattered in the water were welcome, and her eyes fluttered shut as her mind fled elsewhere.

She never would have guessed that the outcome of her escape from the Circle would result in this. A few months ago, it would have been difficult to imagine herself wed to someone other than Arthur— let alone, his cousin.

But Gamlen’s ultimatum forced them to bind themselves to each other, and while she was still ashamed of harbouring affections for another so soon after Arthur’s death in Ostagar, it was clear that the Maker had planned a different path for her and her unborn son.

It wasn’t meant to be.

Valeriana sighed as she began to recall her wedding day and heat bloomed between her thighs when she thought of what followed that very night.

But then the pleasant memory quickly crumbled as more recent events pressed to the forefront of her mind, and she anxiously placed her palm over her growing belly and drew her lower lip between her teeth.

She heard the whispers about her among the nobles after their wedding. What she once dismissed as idle gossip was revealed to be blatant slander against her lineage, and her heart sank as she pondered her elevated status. Every polite smile she’d been offered held malice, and with each practised greeting she received, she began to wonder who knew of the secrets she held.

“Val?” Hawke murmured, pulling her from her thoughts.

Her eyes slowly opened, and she turned her head to meet his gaze.

“You seem like you’re ready for bed, little dove.”

She paused for a moment, lowering her eyes to the suds that enveloped them. “I’m not tired.”

He brushed his hand against her cheek before hooking a finger under her chin, gently urging her to look at him. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing to be concerned about.” Valeriana shook her head and grasped his wrist, moving his hand to her breast. “I’m only thinking of you.”

She hoped that her sudden touch would distract him from her lie, and it seemed to work when he began kneading her soft flesh before he ran the pad of his thumb against her nipple. She drew in a breath, letting her eyes close before exhaling slowly.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow and brushed his lips against her neck before a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

She tilted her head to the side as he began to trail his lips to her ear, and his hand slowly descended between her thighs. She could feel his cock pressing against the small of her back and she emitted a soft sigh. She shivered, unconsciously spreading her legs wider as his fingers brushed against her folds.

He easily found her clit and she drew a shaky breath as he moved his fingers against the bundle of nerves with slow strokes. She rolled her hips, letting quiet moans spill from her lips before he delved a finger into her cunt.

He moved his opposite hand to caress her cheek, turning her head towards him. She kissed him with fervour, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his dark hair as he slipped his tongue against hers, and he gently wrapped his hand around her throat with possessiveness before adding another digit. Warmth bloomed in her core when he curled his fingers against her spot and she let out a soft gasp.

“Garrett…”

“I love hearing you say my name like that.” He murmured against her lips.

Another moan pulled from her mouth as Hawke moved faster, curling his fingers against her spot. Her cheeks flushed as she neared her climax, and she rolled her hips against his hand, clenching around his fingers.

“Come for me.” He murmured.

She began to tremble, her breaths becoming erratic and she shut her eyes. She gripped the edge of the tub before her head fell back against his shoulder and a sob escaped her as she came undone.

Hawke slipped his fingers from her centre, running them over her folds as she tremored, hips jerking. He hummed softly, letting his hands wander to her abdomen, and pressed his lips to her temple as she caught her breath.

“Come here.” He gently squeezed her arms.

She shifted around to face him, bracing her hands against the edge of the bath to steady herself, and he caressed her hips as she settled in his lap.

Hawke dipped his head and traced his tongue between her breasts, collecting the droplets of water that formed on her skin. Her head tipped back, lips falling open as he moved his lips to her nipple, closing them around it.

Valeriana tangled her fingers into his overgrown hair, pulling him in for a heated kiss. His tongue moved against hers easily as he palmed her arse. She rolled her hips against him, seeking friction before a needy whine tumbled from her lips when she felt his length pressing against her sensitive folds.

“Do you want this?” Hawke asked, rutting against her.

Maker, yes.

She raised her eyes to meet the warrior’s hazel gaze and she nodded. He slipped a hand between their bodies to grasp his cock as she rose on her knees.

“Tell me you want it.” He stroked himself before aligning his length with her entrance.

“I want it.”

Hawke held her gaze as she sank down, and he braced his hands on her hips before a low groan escaped him. He moved his lips to her neck and grazed his teeth against her skin. She drew in a breath, lips hanging open, and with slow strokes, he slipped further into her. She slowly rolled her hips forward and moaned quietly as her eyes fell shut.

Their rhythm was slow for a few long moments, and he kissed her with urgency as he tangled his fingers in her hair. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her jaw.

“Maker, you feel so good, Val.”

Desire burned hot within her and she rocked her hips against him, desperately seeking release.

“Don’t stop, Garrett.” She said breathlessly.

His pace became erratic, fingers tightening on her skin as they both neared euphoria. Her cunt quivered around him when he hit her sweet spot, and she began to tremble as warmth pooled in her core. The water rippled around them in waves, spilling over the edge, and her soft moans filled the air as Hawke began to fuck her harder.

She braced her palms against his chest, cries reverberating as he pulled her head back by the roots of her hair. He traced his tongue along her collarbone and she rose to her knees as her orgasm crashed upon her, shuddering against him as a soft cry pulled from her lips, and Garrett pulled her back down on his cock.

“I love you.” His words were rushed as he wrapped his arms around her frame. He spilled himself inside her and emitted a low groan into her ear before kissing her tenderly.

The two were still for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing, hands slowly roaming until he slipped his softening length from her cunt. Her eyes met his half-lidded gaze, and he offered her a warm smile as he swept her hair over her shoulder and rested his forehead against hers. His fingers brushed against her heated skin, and she laced her fingers between Hawke’s before he brought her hand to his lips.

“I know this life isn’t what either of us planned for, but…” He started. A brief pause came and he averted her gaze. She furrowed her brow, inhaling as she braced herself for a crude confession, but she was surprised when he placed his palm on her belly, and continued with a lowered voice. “I’m glad to know that I can call you my wife.”

“Do you truly mean that?” She tilted her head before he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I do.”

#it’s filth but filth with feels #funny story.... haha #this was supposed to be tub smut with my amell/val/alistair sandwich #but then my brain was like VAL HAWKE VAL HAWKE VAL HAWKE #LOL #so there's that #wip wednesday #series: from champion to inquisitor #lemons #HAWKE IS NOT A JERK BUTT!#at least to val #that's my new certified canon #thanks Sam! :)#nsft

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oliverqueenislandhair · 6 years ago

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Ooh la la look at this precious vid from 2013!

Shirtless Amell picnics 😳

youtube

Happy Throwback Thursday to me!

#stephen amell #robbie amell #greg berlanti #happy throwback Thursday #shirtless Amell picnics #Berlanti sandwich

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wild-houseplant · 2 years ago

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Have Warden, Will Travel: Chapter 12

Well, I’d be lying if I said things were taking off between Rhodri and Zevran. Well, no, that’s unfair: they are. One-sidedly. Which is to say, Zevran has reached the genius idea that Rhodri “Couldn’t Land A Flirt In A Brothel” Amell has, in fact, been trying to seduce him the entire time he’s been there. And so he acts accordingly.

Link to the AO3 chapter is here, but I need to put the entire chapter under the cut because of somewhat NSFW beginning. Also heads-up for the emetophobes, brief discussion of what happens when a golem is taken ill.

Hope you bunch are all doing fine, and please have some fluids!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35465686/chapters/107990433 AO3 here in case it didn’t stick with the update

The best thing about Rinna was her mouth. It spoke sharp cleverness, belted out frightfully contagious laughter, and was replete with tender filth that made the blood sing in Zevran’s ears. That mouth drank him in, always drinking, always thirsty, and it felt good to be drunk.

And it would have been nice, Zevran thought bitterly as he tore his hand out from beneath his smallclothes, if that thought hadn’t come at such an urgent moment. But it had, and that quickly and efficiently killed the mood for another night. That would make the third month in a row, now (presumably, at least; it might have been longer, but the last four months in Antiva had been something of a blur).

With a sigh, he re-tied his sleeping pants, threw on a shirt, and stepped out of his tent. The change in temperature was almost refreshing. It was another unnaturally warm night– at least by the standards of the two Wardens, who had once again opted to sleep outside. Alistair’s snores could be heard even from where he lay under the branches of a sprawling tree at the other end of the campsite, and Rhodri was…?

Ah, she was awake, too.

He almost hadn’t recognised her with her hair loose. It always looked so very short in that tuft she pulled it into. But there she stood, surveying the dead firepit with a mop of stick-straight hair going down past her shoulders, and Zevran chuckled without knowing why.

Said hair flew like it was trying to flee her scalp as her head snapped around toward him. The rest of her body followed, revealing one hand clutching a sandwich with bread slices thick enough to choke a horse.

Zevran returned her instant smile with a puckish grin of his own. “Well, well! What have we here, hmm?”

Rhodri’s expression went blank. “Oh, just a… person? The usual, you know.” She looked down at her snack. “Or did you mean–? Ah! Sorry, I didn’t even think to offer–” she held it out to him. "Please, go ahead and finish this one while I make you a proper sandwich."

“No, no,” he held up his hands. “I am not hungry, thank you. My greeting was perhaps an odd one.”

“I'm sure it’s normal somewhere," she said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin with her free hand. “Circle dialect was rather limited, so I’m not the person to comment on standard Common.” She indicated the road leading back to Honnleath. “I was about to go for a walk to see the dock Alistair mentioned. Would you like to come along?”

The real offer, of course, was to have his teeth repeatedly set on edge as pleasant, easy conversation was jolted by painfully awkward remarks or gestures. Seeing the acclaimed dock of Honnleath was an added bonus.

He could have declined with thanks, announce a plan to take some water and try sleeping again. It wasn't like she'd kill him for it. If anything, she'd wish him more genuine luck in the endeavour than anyone else ever had.

“Do you know, I…” His gaze trailed over to his tent, dark and empty and promising a different, decidedly worse kind of pain altogether when he next entered it. Not that his comfort was any reason to choose one way or the other, but in any case, had he not agreed to do his part to keep his fellow party members safe? No, the way forward was clear.

He stifled the dread (of what? Her words, or the tent’s silence?) with a plastered-on smile and gazed up at the Warden. “I think that would be an excellent idea.”

Rhodri beamed, bouncing on her toes as though the prospect of his company was something to be delighted over. At a loss, he gave a flourished wave in the direction of the town. "Shall we, my Warden? Our landmark awaits us."

Her mouth curved into a resolved smile, and she nodded once. "Right!"

When the Warden had collected her satchel and staff, they took to the road. In the absence of any conversation on Zevran’s part, her gleaming grin fell back into the usual frown. Funny, how the transition scarcely fazed him now. No clenched muscles, no plummeting belly. If anything, the frown was enjoyable because it required no work to maintain and was always genuine. A smile took effort, and it was an effort often taken when addressing him.

But why was she taking that effort? Mercy, why had she been sharing her food with him, and making him tea, and asking his opinion on things, and making a shield out of herself, and being so embarrassingly gallant about every-bloody-thing?

More to the point, what did she want from him in return for it all? Things that changed hands, favours, courtesies, all had a material value that would be recouped in kind in some way or another. Certainly it wouldn’t be though the offer of a personal assassin, or a servant. Not money (ha!), or a punching bag. And going by her admonishments after that boy’s possession, evidently not a listening ear of any kind.

What, then?

His startle came in the form of a hand dropping to his hip-dagger as the Warden let out a ‘ha!”

She indicated ahead with both hands. “That,” she declared, is a magnificent view! Don’t you think, Zev?”

“Hmm–? Oh, my.”

Weak as the moonlight was, the last of the night-time cloud cover was peeling away, and the rash of stars shamed the darkness. A thin film of mist clung to the cattails lining the water’s edge, and the aged wooden dock cut through it all into the centre of the flat silverplate lake. Quiet as the grave, and entirely deserted.

They strode– or rather, Rhodri strode, and he hastened to keep up, to the very end of the dock. Without any fanfare, she dropped down on the edge, pulled her boots and socks off, and dangled her feet into the water.

Zevran chuckled as he sat down nearby. “I used to take walks down to the Pleasure Pier in Antiva City some nights to watch the moons on the ocean.” He leaned back on his hands. “This water is a little smaller, I must admit, but quite pleasant all the same.”

She hummed approvingly. “Were you able to see the lights of Rivain from there?”

A swell of homesickness snuck up on him as memories flashed through his head of lazy twin harvest moons and seawater as warm as a drawn bath. Stolen glances with Rinna and Taliesen, all wicked smiles and impoverished victory.

Zevran sighed with relish and faced his audience. “Oh, my Warden! Let me tell you." He shuffled closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Out on the left,” Zevran threw a hand out, “was the bustling port of Afsaana. Dairsmuid was right behind it, with its Circle Tower– that had green lights, so it always stood out. And on a clear night,” he leaned toward her and swept to the right, “I could even see the great lighthouse of Llomerryn– ah…?"

The Warden was looking at him— right at him, straight in the eye, brows raised and saying nothing.

He pulled away. “Forgive me, I have made you uncomfortable.”

Rhodri’s eyes widened, and her hair flopped unceremoniously as she shook her head.

“Not at all!” She broke into a broad smile. “I was– no, it’s good! You’re comfortable enough to touch me!” Her height wavered ever so slightly, Zevran surmised, from the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of leg muscles. “Please, go ahead. My goodness, you can even sit on me– ah! Only if you like, of course!”

Zevran could have laughed. What a damned fool he was. She wanted to be touched! How had he missed it? The tea, the courtliness, the gentle tone of voice– Maker’s mercy, was the Warden trying to seduce him, even?

That was a question well worth exploring. Sex with Rhodri was hardly a bad prospect, especially if it did more to cement his protection from both the Crows and any disgruntled party members. At a guess, the Warden was a virgin and would require some coaching, but she seemed a quick study. And how polite of her to wait until he was comfortable! Those good manners of hers would likely turn up in bed as well, which would be an interesting novelty. Really, it could be a very enjoyable venture for all concerned.

Testing his theory out was the first step– slowly and cautiously, of course. Northern-born as the Warden was, the poor creature had been held hostage in the South during a critical time in life. Coming on with all the heat and passion of their home region could easily scupper everything.

Zevran gave thanks to the Maker for the timeliness of this stroke of genius, and looked up to find Rhodri peering at him with a worried expression.

“I promise it’s all right, Zev,” she said quickly. “Goodness knows Alistair and Leliana treat me like furniture.” She laughed breathlessly.

He snorted, recalling the way Alistair had plonked himself into the Warden’s lap during breakfast that morning. Leliana had then perched atop Alistair, and the grinning human tower had attracted many an eyeroll from Morrigan and Sten.

“That is certainly an accurate way of putting it,” Zevran replied. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “So you like to have people sprawling all over you, my Grey Warden, do you?”

She smiled. “So long as they want to, I do. You know, I think Alistair and Leliana actually have a bet on how much sprawling they can get away with before I evict them off my person– oh!” Rhodri threw up one hand. “Speaking of bets, I believe I lost one to you and am now in arrears of a story. I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Ah, yes!” He rubbed his hands together. "Lovely! And what riveting tale is coming my way, then?”

"Hah, well, suffice it to say I'm not short on stories.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I'm sure I've got a few that could knock your socks off."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Oh, no doubt at all there."

Her hands pattered against her kneecaps. "Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear about? Any specific category, that is?”

Zevran chewed his lip and blessed the Maker again for making this all fall into his lap. An avenue in, and a way to gauge how much damage Ferelden had done to the intimate life of this poor Northerner? Luck, it seemed, was clinging to him like stink clung to the dog.

“Tell me about something delicious, my dear Warden," he drawled slowly. "Something saucy.”

Rhodri frowned a little. “Hmm. Saucy, is it?”

“Only if it pleases you, of course."

“Oh yes, it’s quite fine. I wasn’t expecting to be asked about– not that I’m unwilling, I just don’t really think I have any… saucy stories– ah! No, that’s not true. I have one.” She held up a finger. “Shall I tell it?”

“I hope you will,” Zevran nodded encouragingly. “I am a captive audience.”

“Right. Well, I…” she laughed and shook her head. A blush was creeping in and staining her face bright red. “Honestly, it’s rather… my word, you’re going to think I’m out of my mind after this.”

“Oh, have no fears there,” he crooned, briefly touching her forearm. “I find being in one’s mind is overrated. It certainly never worked for me. Tell me everything, my Warden. Don’t spare the details.”

She chortled. “Bene. Well, I should preface this by saying, though I'm sure you've already realised, that I've lived a rather… sheltered life. In Minrathous, I had no idea how the average person lives, because we paid people to do most everything for us.”

He blinked a moment, mind reeling. “Surely not everything?”

“I’m struggling to think of something that people wouldn’t hire another to do, so take that as you will. Even though I was a child back then, I think I still knew less about how the real world works than most of my agemates." She shrugged, almost apologetically. "And Circles here have no interest in self-sufficient mages, so after I was taken there, there was still a disconnect from normal life. A bigger one, even. Southern Circle Mages don't cook, don't have families, don't go outside or buy things, nothing."

"Hmm?" Zevran frowned. "You didn't go outside? Not even a little?"

"No,” she said, “not unless we were sent for military service or to work for nobility. That was rare, though, and the chaperone Templars watched those people even more closely."

He shook his head. "Locked away in a tower all day and all night… no, I do not care for the sounds of that."

Rhodri chuckled, her smile not quite touching her eyes. "Anyway, with all my ignorance in mind, the story takes place four months ago at an after-dinner meeting with the other Enchanters. And it had been a lovely dinner, too. Baked creature–"

"Baked creature?" Zevran didn’t hide his uneasy grimace at the prospect of yet another anonymous beastie lusting after fresh elven gizzards.

"Mmm? We didn't often know what animal it was."

He laughed wryly. "Ah, so that is what you call your mystery meats. Very quaint. Forgive me, my Warden, I thought there was another ferocious thing I needed to watch out for. Do go on. You’d had a lovely dinner…?"

She nodded. "I had, yes. Baked creature and overcooked vegetables in the Fereldan style, and the gravy was perfect. It was rich, had a gorgeous consistency that hid the vegetables beautifully…" Rhodri paused and, with fingers a-wiggle, gave a positively exultant sigh. "Just lovely. Anyway, the meeting came to a close, and the conversation turned to personal topics."

Zevran’s ears pricked up. He shuffled a little closer. "Oh, yes?"

"Yes. The question went around: what was our favourite magical contribution to society?"

He chewed his lip. Rumours had abounded among the Crow cohorts of a mage in House Nero who had won favour with his superiors for his liberal use of toe-curling electricity spells during his so-called ‘performance reviews’. Was magic really used thusly? Or did the Warden know of something even better? Oh! Or perhaps this was the prelude to her learning about one of these magical delights? Filth with a plot, the thinking man’s smut.

Zevran swallowed thickly. "And what was yours, my Grey Warden, hmm? Don't keep me in suspense now."

She cleared her throat. "I… said I loved the Circle Tower's gravy boats."

His eyes widened. "The...?"

"Gravy boats, yes. Ah…" she trailed off, wringing her hands.

The temptation to wring his own hands was overwhelming. Her face was turning scarlet now. That Tower was an entirely new level of freakish if it was doing erotic things with gravy boats, and the pictures Zevran’s imagination supplied were as intriguing as they were alarming. Were things really that desperate when one was locked away for years on end?

He cleared his throat cautiously. "You need not divulge any more if you do not wish, my Warden. I've no desire to make you uncomfortable."

A laugh burst out of her, and she waved a hand. "Oh no, no, it's nothing so serious. Besides, we've come this far, haven't we? Bene. So anyway, the entire table turns to look at me. Irving, the First Enchanter watches me like this," she squinted and let her mouth fall open a little, "and says, 'I am sure I misheard you, Rhodri. Say it again, if you please.'

"’Gravy boats,’ I say again. ‘They're marvellous! Not only do they make exceptionally good gravy, they somehow make the flavour match the baked creature, no matter the meat, every time without fail. It's positively remarkable,’ I said. ‘Truly intelligent magic.’"

Something inside Zevran was beginning to die. Right there, right then, stone dead.

The Warden sighed and scrubbed her winy cheeks. "I've never heard them laugh like it. One Enchanter burst a blood vessel in her eye. Anyway, I learned recently that gravy is made by the cooks, and the boat itself is merely a receptacle. Apparently even the other Circle mages knew that." She shook her head. "I have no idea why I thought gravy was made that way, but I did. But yes, that concludes the story. Gravy is a sauce, isn't it, so I think that counts."

Zevran fixed his gaze on her neck, not trusting his shocknumbed state to persist if he caught sight of her face now. "And, ah… that is your saucy story," he uttered weakly.

Rhodri leaned in conspiratorially and echoed in a whisper, "That's my saucy story. My delicious, saucy story."

Was it better to laugh, or weep? Neither were ideal, but something would have to win out. The utter failure to gauge any level of flirtatiousness was a storm in a teacup compared to whatever ignorance the Warden was suffering from. A gravy boat that made gravy? Had she believed, prior to leaving the Circle, that hot dinners simply fell out of the sky? That fresh bread appeared every morning under a cloth left on the counter overnight? What was there even to say to her at this point?

He nibbled his cheek for a moment. "Well, my Warden, I can safely say that not only have my socks been knocked off, they have blown away entirely. I am… completely sockless."

She chuckled and touched her elbow to his. "I tend to have that effect on people. On the bright side, though, I do know how to make tea.” After a moment’s rummaging in her satchel, she produced two wooden cups and the tea bag. “Would you like a cup?”

Zevran nodded hollowly. “Most kind of you. Make mine a strong one, if you please.”

Zevran wasn’t afraid to accept responsibility for the failed flirtation of the night prior. There had been a language problem somewhere along the line. There had to be. If the Warden’s degree of obliviousness to cheeky overtures was representative of her host country, the population of Ferelden were lucky they had managed to make even one child between them. Did those who wished to reproduce even know what to put where for the desired result? Absurd.

Perhaps Fereldans laid eggs instead; the winters certainly sounded long and harsh enough to allow a substantial brooding period. The thought of Alistair carefully balancing his enormous bulk atop a large egg had been almost enough to make Zevran choke on his lunch.

But no. There had to have been a mistake on his end, because the rest of the time on the dock had gone down as easily as a spoonful of oil. Rhodri had treated him with precisely the same painful chivalry as usual, and that meant continued interest. Misguided and painfully indirect as it was, Zevran knew desire when he saw it, and the only thing to do was stay the course and up the ante. Certainly nothing involving the word ‘sauce’ or variants thereof this time around.

No, this would require a more genteel approach. If Rhodri was a noble, she was probably proud. The Tevinters were especially notorious for their hubris, outdone only by the positively delusional Orlesians. And where there was pride, there was seduction via ego-stroking.

Zevran strode out of his tent that morning with a crooked smile and an arched brow, which the Warden was subjected to like the earth to daylight.

“Zev, good morning!” She grinned at him and patted the spot on the log beside her. “How was your night?”

He gave a low chuckle as he joined her. “Good morning, my Warden,” he purred. “Mmm! You are looking radiantly beautiful today. Do you mind my saying so?”

She shook her head with a decidedly graver look than the circumstances required. “No, it’s perfectly true," she said solemnly. "I know what I look like. Did you sleep well?”

Zevran barely managed to pass off his astonished stutter as another chuckle. Even so, Rhodri squinted at him as though he had temporarily taken leave of his senses.

“... Perhaps not,” she murmured, and rubbed her chin. “Unfortunately, the others will be awake soon, so there’s not much time to send you back to bed, otherwise I would. Ah! But if you need a nap while we walk, I can carry you.” She nodded, brightening now. “I think I could carry you for at least an hour. Would that be long enough?”

“Hm-hmm!” he bit his lip a little. “A siesta in the arms of a ravishing Grey Warden? What a delightful thought!”

Said Grey Warden nodded, looking very pleased with herself. “That settles it, then. You just tell me when you need a pause, and if we can’t all stop for a break at that time, I’ll take over for you.”

Zevran gave her arm a careful squeeze and, in the absence of any objection from its owner, left it there. “You spoil me, my dear. Tell me, how might I spoil you back, hmm?”

Rhodri shook her head with a warm, playful grin. “Spoil you? Oh, now that’s just not true! There’s no spoiling here, no ser! It’ll be my pleasure to help any way I can, no reciprocation needed.” She chuckled and added, “Besides, this was inevitable, don’t you think?”

He arched one brow, and before he could finish opening his mouth to agree that it certainly was, she pushed on again.

“It’s the natural progression of things, really. Started with holding Alistair’s hand when he was lonely, then he and Leliana both wanted to be held, and, well!” She threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh. “Yesterday I was their armchair! The next step was obviously going to be a stretcher, or a palanquin! Hah! You see if the two of them don’t try to scramble onto me along with you, sic?”

Zevran snorted, not in a position physically or socially to do anything else, and when the offer of tea was extended, he took it extra strong again.

The golem, Shale, spent the next days peppering the entire party with questions: about themselves, about why their bodies were squashy and weak, about potential affinities with birds.

Oh, Maker, the birds. How Shale had tailed Zevran after overhearing him tell Rhodri an anecdote of life with the Crows.

“It was raised by crows?” Shale demanded. Had anyone else said it, Zevran would have been appreciative for the appalled tone of voice. As it was someone who neither knew nor cared about the Guild, with solid granite everything and who could have murdered him by poking him too hard, though, Zevran gave thanks for the fact that he had put on brown pants that morning.

He chuckled nervously. “Well, first by prostitutes, but the Crows came after that, yes.” He quickly added, as Shale made a gravely displeased sound, “Ah, but have no fear, my sturdy friend! They are not the kind you are thinking of.”

“Hmph. It is if it also assaults helpless statuary with its faeces. Does it do that?”

“If given sufficient cause, perhaps.”

“Ugh, outrageous!” The decidedly less-than-helpless statue shuddered disgustedly. “Then still it is possible. The painted elf will stay away from me, or else!”

Zevran laughed hollowly. “I get a lot of that.”

To his right, the Warden rubbed her brow and gave a harassed-sounding sigh.

“You know what?” she said after a moment, loudly enough that everyone could hear. “I really hadn’t counted on saying this today, but I would like to both assure and remind the party that there will be no flinging of poo. Ever.”

Alistair chortled. “What, not even at the darkspawn?” He turned to Leliana and sighed dramatically. “That’s my Thursday ruined.”

Amid the playful shove from the Chantry Sister, Rhodri fixed Alistair with a soft, withering glare.

“I’m hoping against hope you’re joking–”

“You’ll never know!” His cackle grew loud and wild.

“Aeya-a-a. Well frankly, whether you are or aren’t is immaterial. Anyone at the stage of a darkspawn fight where they’re casting turds at it is beyond saving.” Rhodri shrugged off-handedly. “Not least because the darkspawn already smell more offensive than any excreta. They might even appreciate the gesture.”

Shale, who had been silent the entire time (their booming footsteps aside) let out a queasy groan. “These creatures with their foul exudates and flesh-related functions. I think I’m going to be sick…”

Alistair let out a fascinated gasp and jogged up to Shale’s other side. “Ooh, golem vomit! This, I have to see!” He gazed at their mouth. “Does it come out like precious stones? Gravel? … Are there ever any carrots?”

Another moan from the golem issued as Alistair reeled off a wishlist of precious stones for them to vomit up. The Warden shook her head. In the background, Leliana giggled, the dog barked joyfully, and Morrigan whispered something to Sten. Without any better reason than the sudden urge to do something of his own, Zevran nudged Rhodri in the arm and waggled his brows at her.

Rhodri glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and– gently, gently– elbowed him back. He did it again; she reciprocated, and their foolish game played on longer than he would have admitted even at knifepoint.

By the time the party had set up camp for the evening, Zevran had decided that if his after-dinner planned sauciness– oh Maker no, not that word– didn’t yield at least some idea of the Warden’s openness to seduction, he would have to step back and make a proper plan. Tonight's impromptu attempt was… well, he was hesitant to call anything lucky now, after his most recent track record, but Bodahn and Sandal were (presumably, at least) making things much easier for him.

The Wardens had fixed Mr. Feddic’s wagon after the unceremonious breakage of one of the wheels on one of the roughshod parts of the Imperial Highway, and the man and his son had surprised the party with a basket of ripe plums in return. Rhodri had insisted the party take one each only, and the rest were to be returned to Bodahn and particularly Sandal, who proved very fond of them.

Zevran’s idea couldn’t have been more brilliant. Food from their home country, to be eaten right in front of the Warden with every ounce of Northerner allure he had in him, interspersed with gently naughty remarks that would be dialled up to an average flirtation at the most. Anything more outrageous would have to wait until they were alone again. Oh, it was genius. Zevran was so pleased with himself he barely finished his dinner.

But finish he did, and the time for dessert was finally starting. The plum Zevran had taken for himself sent sweet, fragrant juice trickling down the sides of his mouth with each bite. A horrible mess, all told, but there was no better prop for titillating overtures than the juice of perfectly ripe fruit.

To his right was Rhodri (where else would she be?), her own one still untouched while she watched the crackling fire. She looked around at Zevran when he let out a sigh of relish. He smiled winsomely at her and held up his one-third eaten plum.

“These,” he purred, “are magnificent. Almost as good as the plums back home, no?”

“Oh!” The Warden raised her eyebrows. “These are plums? Goodness, I thought they were apples. They’re that sort of shape, you know?”

This person was going to kill him by means of a ruptured diaphragm. Had the mages been kept in lockboxes, fed solely on bread and cheese? Or was she so poor with herbalism that she couldn’t even identify normal fruit and vegetables? No wonder her teacher took to her with the book.

Zevran shook his head with as much sweetness as his aghast state permitted. “No, no. Plums, these are. Apples have firmer flesh.” He took another bite and let his head tip back to emphasise the juice trail it had created. “Mmm. And they are so very ripe and succulent! Oh. Mmm!”

The Warden watched on with a small, warm smile as he dragged one finger up to his mouth and sucked the juice off it. He peered up at her through his lashes and took his lip between his teeth.

“Gorgeous,” he crooned softly.

Rhodri’s smile broadened. Though she was making no effort at salaciousness herself, she was certainly making no attempt to stop his display. In fact, she looked positively thrilled when he slid along the log to sit closer to her. His leg was almost touching her– well, it was hard to know what precisely of hers was under her robe there; there was still no visual proof that she possessed anything beyond extremities, but he was definitely in the vicinity of her lower half. Emboldened by her now-grin, he took the last bite of his plum and let out a low, smooth groan as he chewed it up.

The Warden’s feet rocked. “You like the plum. Excellent!” She nodded. “It’s good that your appetite is holding up well.”

Zevran flicked his eyebrows at her. “Oh, I have… enormous appetites, my lovely Grey Warden. You cannot imagine.” He parted his legs a little and made a show of palpating the knot of muscle over his kneecap in long, easy strokes.

She was out-and-out beaming now, her free hand drumming hard on the log. “Ah, perbonus! No more of this ‘running on the smell of food for a month’ business, then, is it? Good riddance, I say! Not healthy at all.”

Zevran considered asking Morrigan to open the ground for him so he could jump into it. It was either illegal or impossible to be this dense, if not both. He had made bedroom noises while eating that plum. Tipped his head back. Rubbed his leg! Andraste’s grace, he’d shown his neck to her! That alone was an invitation– a request, even– for kisses and bites to the area. He was lucky, Zevran supposed, that she hadn’t simply paid him a genial compliment on the veins there, which she undoubtedly would have done had she actually spoken at that time. Had anyone ever flirted with this individual? Ever?

Not that he was without a backup plan this time around, but before he could get a syllable out of a more provocative flirtation, the Warden had reached out and pushed her plum into his hand.

“Here,” she said. “You enjoyed yours, so you should have this one, too.”

He blinked. Chuckled, if weakly. “Oh, I couldn’t–”

“You don’t have to eat it now,” she urged gently. “But it’s important to have something you really like when you can get it. This, what we're doing, it's hard work, and Mr. Bodahn said the plum season is almost over. Go on.”

She turned to face him, and a strange urge to check her earring got the better of him. Zevran glanced up, and the black snake with its gleaming grey eyes was completely still on her ear. Her head moved a fraction, and the light rippled across it– nothing.

Absurd.

He shifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were trained on his cheek, and that ridiculous, hopeful look she got every time she tried to pass him some of her food was there again.

He took the plum (what else could he do?) and the Warden gave him a pleased nod. With barely another word, she had excused herself to make her way into the field, staff in hand, undoubtedly to begin the night’s training.

Relatively alone now, Zevran stared down at the fruit. On paper, he had obviously failed, but all the same his third foray into intensive flirtations with the Warden had given an excellent yield. Never had he received good food for his trouble.

The plum was even bigger and juicier-looking than Zevran’s own had been– by design; he had chosen the worst of the bunch to ensure the one keeping him alive didn’t get it– and it was such a rich shade of purple, too. No doubt the Warden could afford a whole wardrobe in that colour, if her allusion to her family’s finances was to be believed. She might not even notice if such a sum were spent.

Which meant, in practice, that this fruit was worth absolutely nothing to her, and there was no reason to be staring at it like the Warden had given him one of her kidneys.

He ate the plum and had no idea how it tasted.

#Have Warden Will Travel #HWWT #I didn't post the last two chapters on here because I got lazy as all-get-out but they're on AO3!#Zevran logic makes me so depressed sometimes #'Huh someone is being nice to me? Must be bc they want me to seduce them'#like... sir please ToT #be a LITTLE bit nice to yourself at least #Rhodri Amell #Dragon Age: Origins

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ao3feed-j2 · 2 years ago

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Sammy's sandwich shop

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/hreyk8C

by Lia1996

Jared opened the door of “Sammy’s Sandwich shop” to the smell of fresh paint. “Sammy’s was Jared’s new café, which he’d bought with the little savings that he had and the trust that he’d gotten from his grandmother. Jared never thought though, that this café, was going to be the beginning of an exciting adventure.

Words: 20049, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) RPF

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles' Family, Jared Padalecki's Family, Stephen Amell, Grant Gustin, Justin Hartley, Mark Pellegrino, Chad Michael Murray, Adrianne Palicki

Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki

Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Coffee Shops, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Smut, Top Jensen Ackles, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Bottom Jared, Top Jensen, Major Character Injury, Injury, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Mentions of homophobia

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/hreyk8C

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #j2 #padackles #supernatural rpf

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entertainment · 5 years ago

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Entertainment Spotlight: Andy Allo, Upload

Actress and singer Andy Allo will be coming to screens in May as a customer service rep for the digital afterlife in the new series, Upload. You might recognize Andy from Chicago Fire or Pitch Perfect 3, or indeed from The Hero, starring Sam Elliot, Black Lightning, and The Game. Musically, she collaborated with Prince on her album, Superconductor, and has worked with the legend’s New Power Generation as a singer and guitarist. She has performed on Jimmy Kimmel, Guitar Center Sessions, Billboard Sessions Exclusive, and most recently completed a short run with Enrique Iglesias. We sat down with Andy to ask our burning questions about the vision of the afterlife that Upload brings to life.

What drew you to the role of Nora in Upload?

Nora is such a layered, complicated character but who at her core, cares deeply about the people in her life. That’s something I completely relate to. She has such a big heart.

If you could design your afterlife experience, what would it look like?

It’d look like the Hawaii. I went to Maui last year for the first time and it was life changing. Hiking, beaches, great food, amazing people.

Without any spoilers, what scene, moment, or choice from the show are you most excited for audiences to experience?

Wow there’s so many but if I had to choose, I’d say I’m most excited for audiences to see the Upload process.

If your life were a musical, what would be the theme song?

Ooo, this is hard! I feel like I’ve had different theme songs for different chapters of my life but one theme song I always come back to is “Bad Mama Jama” by Carl Carlton

What song(s) are you currently playing on repeat?

Kacey Musgraves 'Butterflies' and DVSN 'Mood'

Name three things you couldn’t be without.

Chapstick, my guitar and as much as I wish this weren’t true, my phone. Especially now while isolating, it’s how I stay connected to my friends and family.

What was it like working with Prince on your album Superconductor?

Working with Prince was unreal. I look back on it now and I still can’t believe it.

What was the audition experience like for the show?

It happened pretty quickly. From my first audition to booking the role was about 10 days. My call back with Greg was one of the most fun auditions I’ve done. He kept printing out new scenes for me to do and we just played.

Upload is a comedy by Greg Daniels of The Office fame. Were there any funny moments on set (that were mockumentary-worthy)?

My amazing co-star, Robbie Amell, would always order this turkey sandwich that we ended up calling the Robbie Special. At first I would make fun of him but then one day I tried it and it was delicious! So I started ordering one along with him every day and we’d be sitting there eating our Robbie Special sandwiches together. It was hilarious. Oh! One more. There was one day that I got done working early so I went into the hair trailer and started trying on the other casts wigs and then walking on set trying to distract everyone. That was fun.

You act and sing. What is it that you like about these different creative outlets, and what different roles do they play in your life?

Music for me is so personal and allows me to share my feelings and stories through song. It’s like therapy. Whereas acting allows me to take a break from myself in a way and explore a different character. There’s pieces of me in it but I’m challenging myself to embody another person, give them a voice and tell their story. They are both incredibly satisfying and freeing.

Thanks for taking the time, Andy!

#entertainment spotlight

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illusivesoul · 4 years ago

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OC Tag

Was tagged by @rosenkow @slothssassin and @shudder-shock to do this questionnaire. [Picrew Source] Thank you :)

I'll tag @flaine1996 @amys2885 @secretagentdragon @montliyets and @champagne-pain Only if you feel like doing this, of course.

Irene Hawke

Alias/Nicknames: Rene, Hawke, Grumpy, Champion (and then Viscount) of Kirkwall

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Zodiac:

Abilities/Talents: Skilled archer and close quarters fighter.

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Andrastian

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: Trade tongue.

Family: Leandra and Malcom Hawke (parents, deceased) Carver Hawke (brother, deceased), Bethany Hawke (sister), Gamlen Amell (uncle), Charade (cousin), Merrill, Isabela (wives)

Friends: Fenris, Aveline Vallen, Sebastian Vael, Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford, Raleigh Samson, Bohdan, Elegant.

Sexuality: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual / asexual / unsure / other

Relationship Status: single / partnered / married / widowed / open relationship / divorced / not ready for dating / it’s complicated

Libido: sex god / very high / high / average / low / very low / non-existent

Build: slender / average / athletic / muscular / curvy / other

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red (ginger) / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / gray / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / dark / other

Height: 1.8 mts

Scars: Several across her body from her time in the fereldan army, large one across her arm she got during the fight against the Qunari, electricity burn marks across her body from the fight against Corypheus.

dogs or cats / birds or bugs / snakes or spiders / coffee or tea / ice cream or cake / fruits or vegetables / sandwich or soup / magic or melee / sword or bow / summer or winter / spring or autumn / past or future

Five songs that remind me of them:

Don't Look Back in Anger - Oasis

99 Lutballons - Kaleida

Comme des garçons (Like the Boys) - Rina Sawayama

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears for Fears

Art of War - Sabaton

#tag meme #irene hawke

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pikapeppa · 4 years ago

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Fenris/Rynne Hawke: Disappointment

A (VERY late) prompt fill for @talesfromthefade, for @dadrunkwriting Friday!

Set during the later end of Act II. It’s basically a drunken conversation featuring some cuteness, but even more angst, pining, and UST. 😭

~6100 words (SORRY, MY PROMPT FILLS ARE LONG). Read on AO3 instead.

************************

Fenris was sitting at the table in his mansion and struggling with a copy of Hard in Hightown when he heard a knock at the door.

It was more of a bang than a knock, really, and the sound instantly put him on alert. Before he could reach for his sword, though, he heard the laughter.

His shoulders relaxed. Hawke, he thought ruefully, and he went to open the door.

Hawke tripped into his house with a giggle, followed closely by the scent of brandy. “Fenris!” she chirped. “I’m so glad you’re here, I was about to — hic — set up camp on your front step if you didn’t answer the door. Would you care for some wine?” She haphazardly waved a bottle of wine in his direction.

He hastily took the bottle before it could hit him in the face. “Er, thank you, but no. How much brandy have you had?”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “Brandy? Me? How did you know?”

“You smell like you were bathing in it,” he said dryly.

A beautiful grin lifted her lips. “Wouldn’t that be the dream? An entire — hic— bathtub filled with brandy, just for me. I could be persuaded to share with you, though.” She shot him a saucy wink, then began meandering toward the table. Her gait was loose and lazy with booze, yet somehow her hips were still moving with their customary alluring sway, and Fenris eyed her wistfully as he followed her to the table.

She gasped and petted the pages of his open book. “Ooh, were you reading?” she asked brightly.

He grunted and scratched the back of his head. “Trying to, in any case. It’s slow-going.”

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I help you? I can help, if you like.”

He eyed her with a touch of exasperation and placed the wine on the table. “You’re hardly in a position to be assisting with this at the moment.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “I’m not that plastered. I’m only a tiny bit plastered. Look, I can absolutely help you with this.” She peered at the page. “Now if only the letters would stop moving all over the place.”

Fenris huffed and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down, Hawke. You look as though you’re about to fall over.”

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. Then she promptly plopped down on the floor and started pulling off her boots.

He shook his head, then sat in the chair he’d just pulled out. “What is the special occasion?”

She smiled blearily up at him. “Hm? Occasion?”

He gestured at her. “Is there a reason you’re this drunk?”

“Do I need a reason?” she said. “Maybe I’m just full of joie-de-vivre, as the Orlesians would say! But Orlesians would probably also spit on my taste in Rivaini brandy, so never mind that.”

Fenris frowned slightly. Her tone was as jocular as ever, but she wasn’t meeting his eye as she spoke. “Were you at the Hanged Man?” he asked.

“I was,” she said cheerfully. “Varric and Bels and I got into this fabulous darts tournament, and–”

She broke off suddenly and looked up at him in horror. “Oh fuck. Oh shit. Did you want to come? Oh Fenris, I’m sorry, I should have come to get you before going to the Hanged Man but I didn’t even think about it, I just went straight there, I’m sorry–”

He waved her off. “You went straight there from where?” he asked.

“From the Gallows,” she said, to his surprise. “I took Mother to visit Carver today, and–” She snorted. “Can I just say that it went swimmingly well? Swimmingly, splendidly well. It’s definitely something I’ll be doing again, perhaps in fifty years or so.” She broke off with a goofy giggle.

Ah, he thought. Now it made sense. Something unfortunate must have happened during her visit to the Gallows with her family.

“Did it truly go well?” he said quietly.

She finally met his eye, and for a brief second, her smile slipped before returning to her face. “It did!” she said. “Mother was happy to see him, even though he could just visit the house when he gets his leave days. Can you pass me that wine?”

Fenris hesitated. It was probably a bad idea for Hawke to have anything more to drink. But she was a grown woman who was free to make her own (possibly poor) decisions, and who was he to tell her what to do?

He reached across the table and picked up the bottle of wine. Then he came to join her on the floor. By the time he was settled beside on the floor, she was beaming at him with so much uninhibited fondness that it made his stomach twist.

He dropped her coppery gaze and pulled a small knife from his pocket, then pried the cork out of the bottle. But instead of offering it to her, he took three big gulps.

She laughed. “Fenris, you boozehound! I thought you didn’t want any.”

I don’t, really, he thought. But if he didn’t drink any of it, Hawke would drink the whole bottle by herself.

“I changed my mind,” he said, and he offered her the wine.

She beamed at him. “You beautiful thing, you. You’re joining in with me.” She took the bottle and took a long drink, then lowered it and gave him a quizzical look. “What were we talking about?”

“The Gallows,” he said. “Your mother.”

“Ah yes! Oh, Mother.” Rynne laughed and shook her head. “She said the funniest thing. There I was, talking to Carver and just, you know, needling him about the usual stuff. Asking about his love life, pointing out the irony of him becoming a Templar in the first place, the usual sort of thing. And my mother…” She snickered. “My mother jumps in and starts carrying on about how Carver was just trying to support the family while I went swanning off to the deep roads.” She snorted with laughter. “Can you believe that? ‘Swanning off to the deep roads’! Those are the words she used. As though—” She broke off with another giggle. “As though the deep roads are some fancy Orlesian spa that you and I and Varric and Anders just bloody decided to ‘go swanning off to’ for a few months.” She chuckled some more and lifted the bottle of wine to her lips, and Fenris watched with a pang as she took a few gulps.

When she lowered the bottle, he gently took it from her hand. “Did you set her straight?” he asked. “Remind her of the reason why we were gone so long?” Namely, that Bartrand had locked them in the ancient thaig, resulting in the need to wander even deeper into the cursed bowels of the thaig before finding a way out?

“Oh Maker, no,” Hawke said. “I never told her why we were gone that long.”

He lowered the bottle and stared at her in surprise. “You didn’t? Why not?”

Hawke snorted. “Are you kidding? She’d have a fit if she knew. She’d fuss and carry on about how dangerous it was and how she never wanted me to go in the first place, even though we needed the fucking money to get the fucking Amell estate back.” She broke off and took a deep breath, then smiled at Fenris and pointed at the wine. “Can I have some of that?”

He quickly took another big drink before handing her the bottle. She took a sip, then broke off with a snort of laughter. “She thought all this time that I swanned off for months. Can you believe that? The deep roads weren’t exactly a cake walk. D’you remember those rock wraith things that were eating the lyrium down there?”

Fenris sneered. “Ah yes. And that hunger demon.” He shot her a reproving look. “I still think it was unwise for you to offer it sandwiches.”

“And I still think it was worth a shot,” she retorted. Then she sighed and offered him the bottle. “Ah well, what’s done is done. It’s just…” She huffed in amusement and shook her head. “She wanted the fucking Amell estate, so I got it back for her. Next time she wants something, maybe I should just become a Templar too.”

Her cheeky smile was still in place, but she was too drunk for the smile to fully hide her true feelings. Fenris eyed her sympathetically, but he didn’t know what to say. He had no experience with providing any kind of comfort.

He took another sip of wine and wracked his brain for something to say. “I wasn’t aware that the Templars were accepting mages among their ranks,” he said finally. “Has Cullen found a soft spot for you that I didn’t know about?”

She grinned at him, and his heart fluttered; her smile was genuine and warm once more. “Oh Fenris, don’t be silly,” she said. “Cullen has had a soft spot for me all along. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“Hm,” he said. “I suppose all that scowling and telling you off could constitute a soft spot, according to some.”

“Exactly,” she giggled. She took another sip of wine, then gave him a pitiful look. “I know I’m barging in on you and all, but I wasn’t in the mood to go home just yet. Is it all right that I came here instead? Any safe port in a storm and all that.”

He frowned. Safe port in a storm? “Are you concerned that your mother will harm you when you return home?” he said quietly.

“No no, of course not!” she exclaimed. “It’s just a figure of speech.” She barked out a laugh. “My mother, harm anyone? Don’t be ridiculous. She couldn’t harm a wasp even if it was about to sting her.”

Fenris eyed her skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. “You can stay for a visit. I suppose it is only fair, since I…” He trailed off awkwardly. He was about to tell her that her house had become something of a safe space for him as well — a place where he felt at ease, almost at home, particularly when he and Hawke were lounging together in front of the fireplace in her study. But to admit such a thing would be veering far too close to telling her how much he still longed for her, and he didn’t dare let the conversation venture there.

It was surprising that he’d even said as much as he had, in fact. He usually did everything in his power to keep his tenderness for Hawke under wraps, for fear of letting her think there was a chance of them being together again. Why had he nearly said something now?

She offered him the bottle of wine; it was three-quarters empty. That explains it, he thought in resignation. With a small sigh, he took the bottle and drank from it once more.

Hawke stretched her legs out and leaned back on her palms. “So! What were you reading before I came bursting in to ruin your night?”

He lowered the bottle with a smirk. “You really couldn’t tell? You are that drunk?”

“I am quite spectacularly drunk, yes,” she agreed.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were only… what was it you said? ‘A tiny bit plastered’?”

She snorted. “What is this, an interrogation in Aveline’s office?” She poked his arm. “Come on then, tell me. What were you reading up there?”

“Hard in Hightown,” he said. “Varric gave it to me. I am only on page ten or so.”

Hawke chuckled. “Of course that’s what Varric gave you to practice with. Any excuse to get more readers.” She suddenly straightened up and gasped, and Fenris recoiled slightly in surprise; her face was bright with enthusiasm.

“I just had the most fantastic idea!” she chirped. “You should write a book!”

He wrinkled his nose. “What would I write about? And besides, I can’t write.” He didn’t tell her that he’d been secretly writing terribly-spelled letters to her since the day he’d mastered the alphabet. That was one secret that even his half-drunken mouth would never spill.

She waved one hand dismissively. “You’ll be able to write in no time, you’re brilliant. And the book should be about your life, of course!”

He frowned. “My life? Why?”

“Because you’re strong and handsome and interesting. And you lived with the fog warriors!” she exclaimed. “You probably know more about them than anyone in the whole of Thedas!”

His frown deepened. “Reflecting on that time in my life is not exactly pleasant, Hawke. It did not end well, if you recall.”

She wilted. “No, I know, I just meant… oh fuck, I put my foot in it, didn’t I?” She nervously patted her cheeks. “Maker, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think about awful things. I was hoping to make you think of nice moments when you were with them since I know you liked living with them, but… ah, I’m an idiot. Don’t listen to me.” She reached for the bottle of wine.

He allowed her to take the bottle. “It’s all right. I already knew you were an idiot.”

She shot him a grateful smile. They passed the bottle back and forth for another minute, and when it was empty, Fenris placed it on the floor beside him.

“You’re not wrong. I did enjoy living with the fog warriors,” he said. “It was… unusual to spend time around people who were not afraid of me. But I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; the fog warriors were the most courageous people I ever knew.” He draped his arms loosely around his knees and glanced at Hawke. “Even their children had no fear of me.”

She nodded and didn’t speak. Her expression was a picture of attentive focus despite the boozy flush of her cheeks, and something about her attention prompted him to go on when he usually would not.

“I remember the first time I stepped into their… settlement, for lack of a better word,” he said. “I was weak after healing from my injuries. Every step I took required a great deal of effort. But as I walked through their settlement with one of their healers at my side, a child approached me. A boy, perhaps five or six.” He grimaced. “Or maybe seven; I’m not familiar enough with children to guess their ages.”

“Five, seven, it’s all the same,” Hawke said softly. “The little boy approached you. What happened then?”

Fenris tilted his head as he remembered the moment. “He was holding a ball that looked to be made of dried branches and twine. He stopped and stared at me, and I was certain he was going to run away. Or perhaps throw the ball at me in disgust. I’ve suffered worse from children in Minrathous. But…” He slowly rubbed a hand through his hair. “He asked in Seheronese if I would play with him. The healer translated for me, and I… I didn’t believe her, and I didn’t believe the boy. I thought they were taunting me. I…” He swallowed hard. “I went back to the tent and didn’t come out again for another day. But the same boy approached me again when I emerged. He continued to approach me until I agreed.”

Hawke’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “You played with the fog warriors’s children?”

He shrugged. “I had little choice. They are very persistent.” He gave her a tiny smile. “All of their people are persistent. Stubborn and determined. Or… they were, at least, before I…”

Blood. Screaming. Women and children fleeing, to no avail. The horrible images flashed through his mind, raw and undimmed by time, and Fenris dragged a hand through his hair as though that could pull the memories out.

The only time he had ever seen fear in the fog warriors’ faces was when he had put it there.

“Hey,” Hawke said softly. “I’m glad you were happy while you lived with them. I know it ended badly—”

“I killed them all,” he snapped. “It ended badly because of me.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you feel responsible. But I’m still glad you were happy there for a time.”

He stared hard at her for a moment, but her expression was calm and steady — surprisingly steady for someone who was so drunk.

He sighed and shifted his position on the floor. “I was happy with them; you’re right about that. The only time I could ever remember being happy, really. Before I came to Kirkwall, at least.”

Hawke perked up. “Before you came to Kirkwall? Does that mean you like living here more than being in Seheron?”

He huffed at her hopeful tone. “I don’t know that I would say that. But… this city has its charms. They may be few and far-between, but it does have them.”

“Like what?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Such as… that apple pie at that one particular stand in Hightown.”

Hawke nodded. “Oh yes, that pie is fantastic. What else?”

“The music at the Hanged Man isn’t completely terrible,” he said.

“I do love the music there, it’s true,” Hawke said brightly. “Anything else?”

She looked so hopeful. Fenris gave her a chiding look. “Why do I get the sense that you’re fishing for compliments?”

Her beautiful amber eyes grew wide – suspiciously wide. “Me? I never! I never ever fish for compliments. Particularly not from broody handsome elves with the sexiest voices I’ve ever heard.”

He scoffed and rubbed his mouth. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

“I’m not talking about you,” she said. “I’m talking about some other elf.”

She clearly was not. Her smile was coy and warm, and it made his ears feel uncomfortably hot. “I see,” he said dryly. He absently rubbed the red scarf on his wrist and studied her from the corner of his eye. She was humming to herself now and gazing at her bare feet with the sort of vacant smile that made it clear how drunk she was.

Then he surprised himself by speaking again. “I suppose some of the people here are tolerable as well,” he said.

She perked up. “Oh really? Like who?”

Fenris shrugged and leaned back casually on one hand. “Sebastian is a fine man.”

Hawke snorted. “Perfect Sebastian. He doesn’t count. He makes everyone look bad. Who else?”

“Varric,” Fenris said. “He’s forgiven my gambling debts on more than one occasion.”

She let out a scintillating laugh. “Has he? Oh, Varric. He’s such a soft touch.”

Fenris smirked and gazed idly at her legs – lovely legs that were regrettably covered by trousers. Lovely legs with soft golden skin that was so smooth beneath his hands…

Before Fenris could stop himself, his drunken mouth was opening once more. “You are good company, as well,” he said.

Her face lit up with a slow and breathtaking smile. “Am I, now?”

He shrugged and ignored his suddenly thrumming heart. “You can be. When you aren’t aggravating me.”

She raised one hand innocently. “Those were all failed attempts at flirting, I swear.”

He gave her a chiding look. “That’s hardly a comfort, Hawke.”

“It should be,” she said. “I’m usually a very good flirt.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said wryly.

Her smile widened. “Maybe I should try harder, then.”

Her cheeky voice was ripe with its usual humour, but there was something more to her tone now: something husky and heated that made Fenris’s clever retort fade away on his tongue. He studied her face carefully, and his heart jolted; only now was he realizing how close she was. She was sitting right next to him, and although they weren’t touching, they were so close that they might as well have been. Her knees were almost brushing against his thigh, and she was leaning in as though to take shelter against his chest, and he… kaffas, his shoulder was curled toward her as though he wanted her to take shelter against him.

A rush of excitement filled his rib cage, followed by a surge of terror. I can’t, he thought. He couldn’t let her get any closer. Not because he didn’t want to; venhedis, there was nothing he wanted more. But the closer she got, the more she would see just how damaged he truly was, how unprepared he was for what she was trying to give, and he couldn’t… He couldn’t stand it. The thought of looking into her perfect amber eyes, of seeing their heat replaced with pity instead...

She wet her lips, and Fenris was instantly distracted by her mouth: her lush raspberry-red mouth that he vividly remembered kissing, even though it had been almost a year.

Then Hawke nibbled her lower lip, and Fenris could feel his own lips parting as though by instinct — as though the movement of her lips was a siren call, a lure drawing his own lips to react, to lean closer to her, to breathe in the wine-scented warmth of her breath…

He inhaled slowly, and his heart thudded in his ears. She smelled exactly as he remembered, of sandalwood and sweetness and a hint of sweat from dancing at the Hanged Man, and overlaid on it all was the scent of the wine she’d drunk — that they’d been drinking together.

Then Hawke’s hand rose slowly toward his face.

His breath stuttered, but his heart burst into a galloping race. Her fingers were reaching for him, reaching for his cheek, reaching so slowly that he knew she was giving him time to stop her. But he was frozen on the floor with Hawke sitting so close to him, so damned close that he could smell her intoxicating scent, and her fingers were drawing nearer still…

She stroked his cheek gently: so incredibly gently, with just the tips of her fingers. And with that one simple touch, the buzz of longing in his gut hit a fever pitch.

Fenris closed his eyes and turned his face toward her fingers, and her thumb brushed over his lower lip. He exhaled shakily, and he was distantly aware that his breath sounded far too much like a groan.

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed.

Fenris. That was all she said: just his name in her husky voice. But it was almost enough for him to come undone. His name in her voice, carried through the air on a breath of desire: fasta vass, it was too good, too evocative, too strong of a reminder of the past — of the mistake he’d callously made by going to her in a moment of anger-fuelled impulsiveness.

A mistake he was primed to repeat right now, in a moment of impulsiveness that was fuelled by alcohol instead.

He reached up and grabbed her wrist. “I can’t,” he rasped.

Her eyebrows tilted in a way that made his chest ache, but he forced himself to stay still, to not move, to not bridge the mere inches that separated his lips from hers. He held her wrist in a steady grip and stared steadily into her glittering amber eyes, and he forced himself to remember – to remember the way those same amber eyes had filled with tears when he’d walked away from her before.

The memories of their night together still tortured him, along with all the attendant reasons why he couldn't let this same mistake happen again. He was an empty shell whose history had been carved away and replaced with anger and hate, and nothing about that had changed in the year or so since he and Hawke had tumbled together into her bed. He was still the same broken man, the same ex-slave with a mind as scarred as his body, and in the time that had passed since that one glorious night in Hawke’s arms, Fenris had failed to make any changes in his life.

He hadn’t tried to find his sister. He hadn’t done anything other than take on jobs as an errand boy and follow Hawke and her friends around in their ill-advised adventures. He still sat alone in his mansion at night fuming about Danarius and Hadriana and all their misbegotten ilk. He was still just as blank and ruined as he’d always been, and he couldn’t… he didn’t dare inflict that on Hawke, not again, not even if he was drawn toward her in a way that he’d never been drawn to anyone else before.

They sat frozen on the floor for an interminable minute, Hawke’s fingers a hairsbreadth from his cheek and her wrist entrapped by his intractable grip. Fenris stared into her eyes and ignored the plumpness of her lower lip, and he prayed for the strength to move away from her now – right now, right this second now, now before his frenzied thoughts led him away from the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and brought him back to all the selfish reasons that he should.

And oh, the reasons he should, the reasons he wanted to fall into the crystal clear pools of her eyes and take what her slightly-parted lips were offering: those reasons were… fasta vass, they were far too close to the front of his mind. The pleasure of her body stretching beneath his own, of her needy gasps filling his ears, of her comforting hands cradling his face as she told him that there was nothing ruined about him–

“I can’t,” he snapped. He pulled her hand away from his face and turned away from her, dragging shaking fingers through his hair as he did.

For a brief, terrible moment, Hawke was silent. Then she laughed.

“Of course!” she said brightly. “Of course, I didn’t mean to – I was just, um – I’m terribly drunk, you know, and it’s – I should go home. I’m just about ready to fall asleep right here on your floor, which probably means I should go crawling into my bed before I end up like another one of those corpses in your corners here.” She snickered and pushed herself to her feet, and Fenris watched painfully as she stumbled toward the door.

She wasn’t wearing her boots, though. Fenris hastily pushed himself upright and ignored his own slightly spinning head. “Hawke, wait,” he said. “Your boots–”

She cut him off with a haphazard wave. “It’s okay, please, don’t say anything, it’s like it never happened.” She reached for the doorknob.

Fenris darted forward and planted one hand on the door. “You need to put on your boots,” he said. “You can’t go out without boots.”

“Why not? You do it all the time,” she said belligerently.

Fenris raised his eyebrows, but before he could reply, she sighed and sank down to the floor. “Ah, you’re right. My feet are terribly tender and delicate. Where are my bloody boots?”

Fenris silently brought her boots and socks, then waited with an ugly mixture of fondness and misery as she clumsily pulled them on. When she was finally shod once more, she stood up and did a dramatic curtsy.

“On that sparkling note, Rynne Hawke takes her leave,” she announced. She giggled and opened the door, then promptly tripped on the front step.

Fenris snatched her arm and her waist before she could hit the ground. “Fasta vass,” he complained.

She didn’t reply; she was far too busy laughing. Fenris sighed heavily, then stepped out of his mansion and pulled the door closed behind him. “Come on, Hawke,” he said wearily, and he looped his arm around her waist to guide her home.

She hiccuped and squeezed his arm. “Did you see I—” She broke off with a giggle. “I didn’t even make it one step out the door! Oh Fenris, aren’t you pleased I came to your house tonight to entertain you?”

“Not particularly,” he muttered, but not for the reasons she thought. He hadn’t had his hands on her this much since the night they’d spent together, and her drunken state wasn’t making the curve of her waist any less appealing. And his drunken state wasn’t making it easy to maintain the barriers he’d been building to keep her at bay.

She squeezed his arm again. “I know, I’m horrible, I’m a nuisance. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll — hic — bring you some of that apple pie that you like first thing in the morning, bright and early. You’ll be woken by the smell of fresh-baked— eek!” She tripped over a paving stone with a squeal, and Fenris scowled as he pulled her upright.

“Quiet,” he hissed. “If you cause a disturbance, I will be the one who’s blamed.” He scooped her up into his arms and continued in the direction of her mansion at a faster pace.

She gripped the collar of his tunic and beamed at him. “You hero. You chivalrous thing. You’re making a drunken girl’s dream come true.”

“Perhaps you can return the favour and keep your voice down,” he scolded softly. He was already on Hightown’s radar as ‘that elf of Hawke’s who squats in the derelict Vint mansion’, and he didn’t want anyone to find a reason to complain to Aveline again about his presence.

“All right, all right, I’m being quiet now,” she stage-whispered. Then, to his surprise, she actually fell silent.

He carried her in silence for a couple of minutes. She eventually rested her head against his shoulder, and he guiltily savoured the scent of her chestnut hair. But she still didn’t speak, and eventually Fenris wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

He glanced down at her, and his heart lurched; her eyes were closed, but her face was tinted with melancholy, and there were tears trickling down her cheeks.

He hastily looked up at the path ahead, but his entire rib cage was aching now, as though his heart was swelling and pushing against the walls of his chest. He ought to say something – something to soothe her, like the way she was always trying to soothe him when he was angry. But he was the cause of her distress, so what was there to say?

He swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t speak, and they made the rest of the trip to the Amell state in silence.

As they approached the door, Hawke finally spoke. “Don’t knock. I don’t want to wake her.”

Fenris nodded. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pouch belt,” she said. “You can put me down now. I promise I won’t disgrace myself by falling onto my own front step.”

Her tone was cheeky and warm, and for some reason, this made his chest hurt even more. He shook his head slightly. “I’ll bring you safely inside.”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I won’t complain about being carried by Thedas’s most handsome elf.”

He scoffed softly, then waited as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. But as they were moving toward the stairs, Leandra’s bedroom door opened.

Leandra stepped out with a scowl. “Rynne, I’ve been beside myself—” She stopped short at the sight of Fenris and clutched the neckline of her dressing gown.

“Surprise!” Rynne exclaimed, and she patted Fenris’s chest. “Two for the price of one!”

Fenris cleared his throat. “Hawke, keep your voice down,” he mumbled.

She pulled a little face. “Right, right, people sleeping and all that,” she whispered. Then she blew a kiss to Leandra. “Hello, Mother! Go on back to bed, all right?”

Leandra stared at them for a moment longer, then lifted her chin and went back into her bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind her, Hawke burst into giggles.

“Maker’s balls,” she whispered. “She’s going to be furious in the morning when you’re not here. I might not be able to bring you apple pie after all. I’ll be too busy nursing the new asshole she’s going to tear me in the morning.”

Fenris grimaced at the vivid image, then headed for the stairs. When they were in Hawke’s bedroom, he set her down on the bed.

Hawke snickered to herself as she pulled off her boots. She clumsily shucked her vest, then started pulling her shirt over her head, and Fenris hastily turned away.

He awkwardly tugged his ear. “I’ll, er. I’ll just…” He trailed off and started shifting toward the door.

“She’s disappointed,” Hawke said.

He glanced cautiously at her. She was tucked in bed and covered up to her chest, and her lips were curled in a sad sort of smile.

Fenris took a cautious step closer to the bed. “She will get over it soon enough.”

“No, I mean she’s disappointed that I’m not Bethany.” Hawke’s smile widened. “Honestly, so am I sometimes. She had the most perfect milkmaid skin. I bet you would have loved her too.”

His heart twisted painfully. Whatever Bethany’s virtues were, there was no doubt in his mind that she would never have found her way past his armour and burrowed beneath his tainted skin the way that Hawke had.

But he couldn’t tell that to Hawke. Such words meant nothing if he was incapable of backing them up with the devotion that she deserved.

He swallowed hard. “Get some sleep,” he said softly. “I will see you in the morning.” He slowly made his way to the door.

“Fenris?”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

“Do you want to know what I like best about living in Kirkwall?”

“Half-off Tuesdays at the Hanged Man?” he suggested weakly.

She let out a bark of laughter. “Aw, half-off Tuesdays. That’s almost my favourite thing.”

He leaned against the door jamb. “I give up, then. What do you like best?”

“Running around this fucking place with you,” she replied.

In the dim lantern light of her bedroom, her smile was sweet and free of guile, and Fenris felt his throat growing thick once more. He felt the same way, of course; Kirkwall would have no value if not for her. She was the reason he had decided to stay, even after the exquisite disaster of their night together. Even knowing he was no good for her, he was incapable of leaving her side.

He gazed at her for a moment and drank in the perfect softness of her smile. It is the same for me, he thought. You are the only reason I’ve remained in this Maker-forbidden city. The confession crept close to the edge of his tongue, ready to spill into the soft and intimate atmosphere of her bedroom.

But the walk from his house to hers had cleared the booze-induced boldness from his mind, and he was no longer at the mercy of his selfish heart.

He bowed his head politely. “Get some sleep,” he said.

Her smile widened, and she snuggled down into her blankets and reached for the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, Fenris,” she said softly.

“Goodnight, Hawke,” he murmured. A moment later, her bedside lamp went out.

Fenris quietly closed her bedroom door, then padded silently downstairs. Orana was awake and waiting nervously by the door to lock it behind him, and he murmured an apology to her as he left. Then he was slipping stealthily through Hightown back to his empty mansion.

Once he was in the mansion once more, he sat at the table and stared at Hard in Hightown, but the words were meaningless on the page, unseen by his unfocused eyes.

Hawke thought she was a disappointment, but nothing was farther from the truth. Nothing about her was a disappointment — not her incessant jokes or her drunken visits to his home, not the fact that she was a mage, and the memories of her naked body bending beneath his hands… venhedis, nothing about those memories were a disappointment either.

It didn’t bear thinking about, though. Hawke might not be a disappointment, but Fenris certainly was, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

With that heavy thought, he closed his copy of Hard in HIghtown and went to bed.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #fhawris #pikapeppa writes

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copyrightcreep · 4 years ago

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A L L T H E A S K S

1. Who was the last person you held hands with?

My girlfriend!!!!

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Pretty shy.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing?

My friends and family it’s dnd day!

4. Are you easy to get along with? I think so yea.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you?

I believe so yes.

6. What kind of people are you attracted to?

The kind that takes cae of me zsexdcfvg.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now?

I have all the faith i will.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind?

A housemate.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable?

Kinda it’s akward at least.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with?

Ooh one of my caretakers.

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say?

It’s a heart.

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

In no order cause i can’t choose: supposed to be by icon fo hire, counting on me by smash into pieces, gasoline by halsey, bad rabbit by tryhardninja and fade away by mandopony.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair?

Yes please.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles?

Maybe.

15. What good thing happened this summer?

I get to move to a better place!

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?

Duh don’t need to ask me.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets?

Absolutely there’s too much out there to no have other life.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush?

Yeah she’s one of my closest friends.

19. Do you like bubble baths?

Yeah .

20. Do you like your neighbors?

they’re alright.

21. What are you bad habits?

Doubting myself.

22. Where would you like to travel?

Greece/Rome.

23. Do you have trust issues?

I trust too easily does that count.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Texting my sweetheart.

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with?

Uh everything? My hair mostly.

26. What do you do when you wake up?

Put on my glasses and text my girlfriend.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker?

I don’t mind either i like it how it is now though.

28. Who are you most comfortable around?

My girlfriend.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up?

don’t have any.

30. Do you ever want to get married?

YES.

31. Is your hair long enough for a pony tail?

No XD.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with?

Not sure uwu.

33. Spell your name with your chin.

brfhyswnnhasw

34. Do you play sports? What sports?

Nope.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

TV i love music too much.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them?

Nope.

37. What do you say during awkward silences?

Anything that comes to mind.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy?

Kind, caring, won’t hestitate to show emotions, will love me for who i am.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in?

The action and the jumbo.

40. What do you want to do after high school?

Culinary schooool.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?

Mostly yeah.

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean?

i’m either overthinking or sad (staring and fidegeting) or very content. (humming and smiling with my eyes closed)

43. Do you smile at strangers?

Yup.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean?

Outer space for sure!

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning?

My hunger.

46. What are you paranoid about?

The dark.

47. Have you ever been high?

Nope!

48. Have you ever been drunk?

And nope!

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about?

Not recently no.

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore?

Uuuuh gray i think. it’s been a while.

51. Ever wished you were someone else?

Loads of times.

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself?

My personality to be less annoying.

53. Favourite makeup brand?

N o n e.

54. Favourite store?

Action.

55. Favourite blog?

Plastic pipes.

56. Favourite colour?

Orange.

57. Favourite food?

Lasagne.

58. Last thing you ate?

A chocolate cookie.

59. First thing you ate this morning?

Grilled cheese sandwich.

60. Ever won a competition? For what?

Almost but not quite.

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what?

Nevaaah.

62. Been arrested? For what?

Also never.

63. Ever been in love?

Am right now.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss?

So my (now gilfriend) and i just wanted kisses and cuddles and we decided to get it from eachother. So we talked about it. decided it together. And she kissed me in her jacuzzi. My heart was beating like crazy and i was so happy for days.

65. Are you hungry right now?

Very much so.

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends?

I can’t decide between friends.

67. Facebook or Twitter?

Facebook.

68. Twitter or Tumblr?

Tumblr.

69. Are you watching tv right now?

No.

70. Names of your bestfriends?

Sanne, Joyce, Valdemar and Jenn.

71. Craving something? What?

panini’s.

72. What colour are your towels?

Yellow and all kinds of colors.

72. How many pillows do you sleep with?

1 oversized and 1 normal one.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?

Yes.

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have?

Around 20 at least.

75. Favourite animal?

Sheep and cows.

76. What colour is your underwear?

Black.

77. Chocolate or Vanilla?

Vanilla.

78. Favourite ice cream flavour?

Cookie dough.

79. What colour shirt are you wearing?

Light grey.

80. What colour pants?

No pants we die like heroes.

81. Favourite tv show?

Supergirl/She-ra.

82. Favourite movie?

Venom

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2?

Haven’t watched either.

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street?

Haven’t watched either.

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

haven’t watched it.

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo?

The giant turtle and Dori.

87. First person you talked to today?

Text? My girlfriend in person? A caretaker.

88. Last person you talked to today?

Text? My girlfried. In person? A caretaker.

89. Name a person you hate?

Kyle.

90. Name a person you love?

Alex and Joyce.

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now?

Myself?

92. In a fight with someone?

Nope.

93. How many sweatpants do you have?

6 or 5.

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have?

1 i get warm easily.

95. Last movie you watched?

Batman the dark knight rises.

96. Favourite actress?

Chyer Leigh and Nicole Maines.

97. Favourite actor?

Stephen Amell.

98. Do you tan a lot?

I think so.

99. Have any pets?

Yep! A hamster named spike.

100. How are you feeling?

Tired and hungry but pretty good.

101. Do you type fast?

Average i think.

102. Do you regret anything from your past?

Lots of things.

103. Can you spell well?

I think so yeah.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past?

Yeah...

105. Ever been to a bonfire party?

Nope!

106. Ever broken someone’s heart?

I hope not :(.

107. Have you ever been on a horse?

YES horses are amazing.

108. What should you be doing?

Sleeping.

109. Is something irritating you right now?

My ear.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?

Yeah.

111. Do you have trust issues?

I already answered this one lmao but yes i trust too easily.

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

A caretake i think.

113. What was your childhood nickname?

It was and still is Bry

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state?

Yup!

115. Do you play the Wii?

Yeah don’t own one though.

116. Are you listening to music right now?

Alwaayyys.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup?

Yass.

118. Do you like Chinese food?

A lot yes.

119. Favourite book?

Drakenrijders.

120. Are you afraid of the dark?

Yeah.

121. Are you mean?

I don’t think i am.

122. Is cheating ever okay?

NO!

123. Can you keep white shoes clean?

Hell no.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight?

Yea.

125. Do you believe in true love?

Yep. With my sweety i sure do.

126. Are you currently bored?

Nope.

127. What makes you happy?

Food, my girlfriend, reading, cooking.

128. Would you change your name?

i’m thinking about it but probably not.

129. What your zodiac sign?

Leo!

130. Do you like subway?

Never had it!

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

Let him down gently.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

Answered this one too but a caretaker.

133. Favourite lyrics right now?

i’d do everything to ride with you.

134. Can you count to one million?

With enough time probably yeah.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told?

That i was a boy.

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed?

Closed ain’t anyone going in my room.

137. How tall are you?

Too tall acording to my gf.

138. Curly or Straight hair?

A mix of both my hair can’t decide what it wants.

139. Brunette or Blonde?

Brunette.

140. Summer or Winter?

Winter.

141. Night or Day?

Night.

142. Favourite month?

October.

143. Are you a vegetarian?

Respect for people who ae but no.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate?

Milk and white.

145. Tea or Coffee?

Tea.

146. Was today a good day?

Yes!!!

147. Mars or Snickers?

Snickers.

148. What’s your favourite quote?

you’re so thick. You’re mister thick thick thickety from thickenia. And so’s your dad.

-10th doctor.

149. Do you believe in ghosts?

Yes.

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page?

Schaal en -schelpdieren.

welp there we have it lots of information about me!

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readersguidetotheuniverse · 4 years ago

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Beach Reads

When we reviewed Beach Read (by Emily Henry) we were highly disappointed by the little reading that was done at the beach, thus we thought to recommend our own favorites. Whether you read them at the beach, on a bus or sitting at your local coffee shop, we hope you enjoy them!

The Hating Game, by Sally Thorne

Alicia: Personally, one of the tropes I enjoy the most is 'enemies to lovers'. I find it so thrilling, I just can't get enough of it. If you're like me, this book may be for you. Sweet and sexy and perfect to take your mind off things. (Also, apparently there’s a movie adaptation in the making starring Lucy Hale and Robbie Amell, and I really hope it's not going to end up being cancelled because I’m really excited about it now)

Tweet Cute, by Emma Lord

Alicia: This one is more on the teen side, but it's still such a good option if you want something to read that won't make you use your brain too much. It's a really fresh and enjoyable story full of funny tweet wars and an 'enemies to friends to lovers' plot that is so cute and adorable. It's so light and quick to read and if you give it a chance, it may surprise you.

Did I Mention I Love You, by Estelle Maskame

Alicia: This one is somewhat controversial. The main characters are step siblings (no blood relation whatsoever), and some people don't feel comfortable with that, so it's definitely not for everyone. If that's not a problem for you, you may enjoy this series a lot. It's so quick to read and almost addictive. There are three books and a 4th one with a different point of view, so you have a bunch of books to binge-read if you want something light.

The rithmatist, by Brandon Sanderson

Ariadna: If you are a fantasy reader, you sure have heard the name Sanderson at least once. He is one of the masters of the genre, known for his prolific, intertwined worlds and complex magic systems (they make such sense that sometimes you wonder how come they are not real). He usually writes long, rich books, but this one in particular, being directed to a younger audience, is supereasy, superfun to read. In a world where the chosen ones can invoke magic through chalk drawings, Joel, who knows everything that needs to be known about the Rithmatism but has no magic ability whatsoever, and Melody, a terrible Rithmatist student, to win a competition and solve some bigger mysteries. A must-read if you love a good fantasy novel with impeccable worldbuilding.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman

Ariadna: Eleanor Oliphant follows the same exact routine everyday, the same sandwich for lunch, the same cup with the same tea, the same phone call from her mother ever Wednesday... She is so organised and thorough it is borderline sociopathic. But her life will turn upside down the moment she meets Raymond, her work colleague, an unapologetic opposite to her.

This novel is a ray of hope for those who feel weird and mildly left behind in society. I bought it without much expectations, and it surprised me how much you could empathise with such an eccentric character who, in the end, suffers as any of us do. It is full of delicate moments, daydreaming, kindness, pain and unconditional love — a fuzzy and heart-warming novel of self-discovery and overcoming of the past traumas which will leave you feeling optimistic and, somehow, sheltered.

If Only It Were True 1 and 2, by Marc Levy

Ariadna: Lauren is a pretty and successful medical resident working in the Emergency Room of San Francisco Memorial Hospital who suffers a car accident. Arthur, a single, thirty-something architect rents a flat in San Francisco to the family of a girl who is in a coma... And starts seeing her! You may have guessed right, the ghost is none other than Lauren, and together they will go to unimaginable lengths to help Lauren go back to life.

This plot may ring a bell to some. Yes, the movie «Just like Heaven», starring Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo, is based on the first book of this series, so I won’t spoil you the sequel. If you don’t feel like reading a book of a movie you have already seen, I recommend you to read any other book by Marc Levy —a French romance writer whose short novels are full of light-hearted, optimistic relationships and wondrous journeys (both literally and figuratively) to self-discovery. I personally enjoyed The first day and The first night as well as The strange journey of Mr. Daldry.

The Martian, by Andy Weir

Marina: If there’s something I enjoy doing at the beach more than escaping the scorching heat, it’s reading. The Martian is one of those books I could read a hundred times. It has science facts explained for us lesser humans that know nothing about space; whitty and dry humour that makes you put your book down because you’re laughing so hard; and a trip to Mars, what’s there not to like? This astronaut’s diary is the perfect companion for a day of reading at the beach.

If you think this reminds you of something that’s because there’s a movie adaptation starring Matt Damon, Sebastian Stan, Kate Mara and Jessica Chastain (it even has a little cameo but I’m not going to spoil who it is) that’s also very entertaining. Though, folks, this is another one for team “The book was better than the movie”.

The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair, by Joël Dicker

Marina: If you’d prefer a mystery for the ages with flashbacks to the time of the crime, here’s a book for you. Dicker’s debut novel, The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair, takes place in New Hampshire when a novell author takes refuge after a (too) long writer’s block to seek inspiration and visit his old mentor. Who so happens to be the main suspect of an old murder case that took place in 1975. A well crafted and fast-paced thriller you can enjoy while tanning ;)

What’s even better, after the success of his first book, Dicker has published more thrillers that have been very well received among fans of the genre.

Stars of Fortune (The Guardians Trilogy #1), by Nora Roberts

Marina: Now, I know what you’re thinking: Nora Roberts only writes romance books, wrong! He has a couple of amazing urban-fantasy sagas that are amazing. One of them is The Guardians trilogy. It takes place in the Mediterranean (this first book begins in Greece) and Ireland. Six people are brought together by the stars to Corfu to find and protect the stars of fortune from evil.

I have to warn you though, this is a Nora Roberts book and there is romance involved. Each book revolves around one of the couples (what, you thought destiny brought together six adults and they wouldn’t end up dating each other?) and their roles in the group.

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darlingrutherford · 5 years ago

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Curious: If Cullen was having a rough day- the kind where everything hurts, nothing goes right, you can't stop thinking about every bad choice you've ever made, the kind of day where you wish you could drop to the ground and have a full on tantrum like a toddler because you're so *frustrated* and feel like there's nothing you can do about it- how would Lana and Alistair help him? Alternatively, how do you think Cullen would help them on their bad days?

Oh my gosh I love this question 😭❤️ one of my favorite dynamics is people who love each other helping each other, and I think all three of them would be really great at it.

The first thing Lana and Alistair would do would be to invite Cullen back to their place. It’s a calm, safe place he’s familiar with and would probably feel more comfortable unwinding and being himself rather than them taking him out somewhere. They’d probably be well aware of Cullen’s ability to second guess many things in his life and dig himself into a hole of regret, so they’d take time talking with him, pinpointing the common denominator in everything that’s bugging him. Then they’d do their best to reassure him, to help him feel wanted, to show him that all you need to make a day better is two of your best friends who can lovingly dote on you the way only they can.

In my AUs where Cullen becomes involved with the two of them, I like playing off of the infatuation DAO shows between Cullen and a Surana/Amell in the beginning of the game. So, while he most definitely is attracted to Alistair and loves the attention he gets from the man, Lana will often take lead with cheering Cullen up. If he’s feeling unworthy, she’ll sit on his lap and stroke his hair, steadily distracting him and reminding him that she doesn’t do this for anyone unworthy.

As for Cullen, he’s there to be whatever the two of them need when they’re feeling down, or frustrated, etc. If they ask for him, and he can hear the upset in their voice, he’ll drop everything to help. He’ll often offer to join them on walks, to sit on their couch and hold them, the kind of things he feels like would make him feel better when he’s in that mood. He’s not always as forward as the two of them are when cheering him up, but if the mood swings that way he’s happy to take lead and give them something else to think about. He knows well the need for distractions more than most.

Of course, sometimes all it takes for any of them is to be sandwiched on the couch between the two others, a blanket wrapped around all of them while the three snuggle and watch a movie. That’s a go-to that often works as well.

#Cullen Rutherford #lana surana #alistair theirin #lanistair #cullanistair #dragon age #my ocs

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thethirdamell · 5 years ago

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Accursed Ones - Chapter 105

Fandom: Dragon Age (Dragon Age Origins: Awakening & Dragon Age 2)

Main Pairings (M/M): Anders / Hawke & Anders / Amell & Anders / Justice Fester - Chapter 105

The bread had begun to turn. There it festered on the edge of the desk, orange flickering over green on rye in a putrid sort of painting. Hawke had brought him the sandwich... it felt like hours ago, but bread didn't turn that fast, even in the humid Kirkwall summers. It might have been a day ago. Perhaps two. Anders couldn't say. The curtains were drawn, and the bubbling hill of wax atop which flickered a tiny flame told him nothing. He hadn't been counting the candles. A pile lay beside him, and Anders knew he was living a life of unnecessary opulence, but he was too paranoid for anything else.

Hightown was already talking. Hawke didn't need them talking any more. An unwashed apostate rifling through the study of the Amell Estate was bound to draw a kind-hearted neighbor to the rescue, and when they saw the pages of Anders' manifesto carpeting the study? A burglar would meet a kinder fate than the one Hightown would seal for Hawke. No, the curtains had to be drawn, but Anders couldn't write in the dark, so the candles burned.

Keep Reading

#accursed ones #anders #handers #hawke #i finally got to use this passage #at long last #here it be #slightly modified from how i originally wrote it but w/e #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction

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pinayelf-archive · 5 years ago

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I'm a bit scared to ask this off anon (idk, dont wanna bother ya!), so here we go! Can you talk a bit more about your HCs for Seheron? I'm super curios :0c (-☣️)

Nope it’s not a bother at all lol, I could go on about my Seheron headcanons all day lmao

Disclaimer: These are all headcanons used in my personal canon and not official canon, nor is it the only right way to headcanon Seheron.

In my headcanon, Seheron is the Thedosian equivalent of the Philippines, which disclaimer is my own headcanon so anyone is free to have their own since there is no official Bioware canon

The reason I headcanon Seheron as the Philippines is because a lot of the lore regarding it reminds me of or parallels to the Philippines. There’s rice terraces there, there’s rainforest and from the looks of it a tropical climate

Seheron has also been occupied for some time by both Tevinter and Par Vollen, the Philippines has a long history of being colonized and occupied and I saw parallels

In fact from the wiki: “The fog dancers tell stories of the land Seheron once was. They say that the griffons of the Grey Wardens came from Seheron. They speak of the ancient Curse of Nahar that brought the fog, and the promise that will one day lift it. They tell about the March of Four Winds, about the lost people who fled to the northern islands and about the heroes who learned from the elves.“

That reminds me so much of how much pre-Colonial Filipino history has been lost or how things from then have been changed and shaped so much from the different countries that colonized and occupied us

A lot of the architecture in Seheron is largely based off Tevinter styles, which means Tevinter culture is now rooted in modern Seheron society, much like how Spanish and Western things are prevalent in modern Filipino society

Now heading off that - if you ask Bull about Seheron he talks about how there are ports and towns and civilians - these would be the people who live in ~modern (or more or less the culture that assimilated with Tevinter and Par Vollen influences) Seheron society. Then there are the Fog Warriors, who in my take are people who stick to the old ways of Seheron culture long before Tevinter took over.

Some general Seheron headcanons:

Seheron is not an Andrastian country. Even with outside influences, the constant warring between Tevinter and Par Vollen wasn’t enough to influence one singular religion. The main religions would be the Qun, Andrastian, and native Seheron beliefs

The main exports are rice and fish

Many native Seheron people have fled and moved elsewhere due to the war tearing the country apart (hence why my Amells, Couslands and Trevelyans have Seheron origins)

The fish sandwich thing Bull mentions a merchant sold is something like lumpiang sariwa, which is different ingredients wrapped in a soft spring roll wrapper.

The language they speak is based off Tagalog (and maybe some Ilonggo if I can figure out how to do it)

People from Seheron typically have Malay and Austronesian features - brown skin, black hair and dark eyes. So similar to people from Southeast Asia.

Fog Warriors

The Fog Warriors use both magic and melee in their fighting, that’s why they seem to slip in and out so easily without detection

They have their own religion

They are humans and they are friendly towards elves - in fact in my personal canon The Fog Warriors and Clan Bahaghari (the clan my Lavellans and Marikit’s mom originated from) cohabited with the Fog Warriors as they both sought to keep each other safe from slavers and the war.

The Fog Warriors have a leader with the title “Lakan”, which is also the title of a leader back in pre-Colonial Philippines around the Luzon region.

The leader of the Fog Warriors was named “Ilao” and she led her troops to save Clan Bahaghari from an Tevinter slaveship and died protecting them, so Imryll’s middle name is “Ilao” after her. She then names her daughter after her as well.

The Fog Warriors also speak Seheron

They treasure their mages and have their own schools of magic, much like the Dalish and the Chasind. Also like the Dalish they are attuned with nature magic, similar to keeper magic (like Velanna’s specialization)

Seheron elves

It’s extra dangerous for elves in Seheron due to the large Tevinter presence as well as the number of elven slaves on the Island

Like how Dalish elves from the South can speak common Dalish elves from Seheron can speak Seheron.

Most Dalish clans have long left Seheron due to the danger, Clan Bahaghari was the last to leave

Seheron elves have a distinct type of eye, which is that their iris is black and there’s no pupil, just a ring of white there. It sets them apart cause I think in some canon text it’s mentioned that dark-eyed elves are rare? I dunno lol, but I made this trait specifically because of that factoid.

So far that’s all I have! There’s more little details but this post would be 700 miles long lmao, but if there’s anything else I think of I’ll add something!

#Anonymous #seheron #dragon age #meta

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jchb32273 · 5 years ago

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Fictober 2019 - Day 4

Fanfiction - Dragon Age AO3 Link

Slight trigger warning for language

I know it’s a bit late... this one turned out a bit longer than the previous days!

Hope you enjoy!

I know you didn’t ask for this

~~~~~

It was 3 pm on Friday and I was glad the weekend was here. I was walking back towards my dorm with Leliana when I heard my name being called.

“Kylara!”

I turned to see Alistair running up to me, looking a bit flustered.

“Hello, Alistair. What’s going on?”

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, then said, “Maric is hosting one of his ‘oh so important dinners’ at his house tonight… and I had almost forgotten about it!”

I blinked a few times. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Ah… well, it is sort of required for me to… bring someone.” He rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. “I know it’s last minute… and I totally understand if you have other plans…”

“Of course she’d love to go,” Leliana piped up as she elbowed me in the ribs. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Well, um… I guess?” My cheeks were pink. “I mean… I don’t… have any other… plans.”

“Great!” He leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “You are a lifesaver, Kylara! I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?” He then ran off.

I groaned. “Leliana! What have you done?! I don’t have the first clue how to act at one of those type of dinners! I don’t even have anything fancy to wear!”

“Well, it is a good thing I just got my paycheck! Let’s go shopping!”

Two hours later, we were back in our dorm room with several bags worth of items. Leli had dragged me from store to store to look at dresses, shoes, undergarments (to my utter embarrassment), and makeup. After making all the purchases, I blanched at what she’d just spent on me.

“How am I going to pay you back for all this, Leliana! This is so much stuff!”

“Don’t worry about that now! You have a date we must get you ready for!! Oh, this is SO exciting!” She unwrapped the burgundy satin dress from the thin, clear plastic bag the salesclerk had wrapped it in. “You and Alistair have become quite close, no?” She giggled. “And to think you didn’t want to go to that party two months ago! Now, look at you!”

“I have only seen him a handful of times since the party. We are… friends. Sort of… Nothing more!”

“Friends, hmm?” She gave me a sly smile. “Well, I happened to hear from Morrigan, who got it from Fenris, who was told directly from Bull, that you were alone at his place about two weeks ago? Hmm? You also came back into our room quite late that same night, if I remember correctly.”

“I was there to study for my biochemistry test… and then he took me out to dinner afterwards.”

“Ooh! Dinner?! I bet it was really romantic! Alistair just strikes me as that type of man…”

I thought back to that night. What had started as a simple study session, then ended with a stupid fight (that I had started) over grilled cheese sandwiches… After helping Alistair put out a fire in his condo, he had taken me to a very romantic restaurant. It was completely innocent though, my inner-voice justified. Just cheese fondue… and wine… My cheeks felt hot. “I think I should just get ready,” I mumbled.

“Yes, yes,” Leliana gushed. “We have much to do to get you beautiful!”

After a half-hour practicing walking in the high heeled shoes Leli has insisted on, I was not falling down anymore… but I was still wobbling quite a bit.

“Do I have to wear these ridiculous shoes? I am going to make a fool of myself, I just know it!”

“But all you have are sneakers, Kylara! You can’t wear sneakers with a gown!” she admonished.

“Don’t you have any flats I can wear?”

“I wear a size smaller than you, Kylara, so I don’t think that would work.” She sighed. “Look, once you are in the house, you will probably be sitting down to eat. You’ll be fine!” She glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s almost seven. Let’s get out to the lobby of the dorm.

Heads turned as I walked (wobbled) out into the dorm common room. I heard people talking behind my back. Most of the whispers had people wondering what I was so dressed up for, and there were several cruel comments about my pale skin and chubby body.

“Ignore them,” Leliana said as she saw me taking a slight step backwards. “I think you look lovely.”

Just then, the front door opened and Alistair walked in dressed in a full, form-fitting tuxedo.

Maker’s Breath but he is stunning!

My knees were shaking and I was sure my face was bright red. Alistair saw Leli and me and walked over to us, a huge smile on his face.

“Kylara, you look… beautiful.”

Now the comments behind me took on an angrier tone.

What is she doing with him?

How did that fat geek get a date with the single most handsome man in Denerim?!

What the fuck does he see in her?

She’s gotta be sleeping with him, otherwise, why would he bother?

Alistair must have heard a few of these comments because he glared around the room and all grew quiet. Smiling at me again, he took my arm into his and said, “I’ll take it from here, Leliana. Thank you.”

“Have fun, you two!” Leli grinned and blew kisses at us both.

We walked outside the dorm and a blast of cold winter air hit me. “Oh, it’s freezing out here! I don’t have a coat!”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair said. “The car is right here and the heater is already on.”

I glanced up to see a stretch limo parked on the street and my mouth gaped open. As soon as he saw us, the driver quickly got out and opened the door for us.

“Thanks, Blackwall.” Alistair assisted me in the car, then slid in beside me. Blackwall shut the door, then got behind the wheel.

“Y-you hired a limousine for tonight?” I squeaked out.

Alistair smirked. “No, it’s Maric’s car. I would have driven my own, but he’s all about impressing people at these dinners… so he insisted I use the limo to come and pick you up.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. “Ah, what does he know about me?”

“I haven’t had the time to tell him much. He knows that you are a year behind me and that you go to the same school. I also told him you are very smart and pretty.”

I looked down at the floor of the car. “Alistair, I am not pretty.”

He turned in the butter-soft leather seat to face me, then used his fingers to gently tilt my head back up. “Yes, you are. You should stop doubting yourself.” He smiled at me. “Is that a new dress?”

“Um… yes. Leli took me shopping after you… invited me.”

“The color is striking on you. I noticed right away when I picked you up tonight. However, we might want to…” He reached up and gave a tug on something on the shoulder strap. I heard a muffled snap and then he held out the price tag of the dress to me.

Mortified, I took the tag and quickly stuffed it into the handbag that Leli had loaned me for tonight.

Alistair put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Don’t fret over it, Kylara. Stuff like that happens more often than you think, even amongst the wealthy.”

Perhaps, I thought bitterly. But I am sure they pay a lot more than 75 sovereigns for a dress.

Just then the limo pulled up to a massive mansion. Nauseous butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Ohh… what have I gotten myself into?! Blackwall opened the door and Alistair exited first, then held out his hand to me… an encouraging smile on his face.

I carefully stepped out of the limo, but my ankle wobbled in the heels again and I stumbled a bit. Alistair quickly scooped his arm around my waist and steadied me. I saw what I assumed to be disapproving frowns on other dinner guests who were slowly making their way to the front doors of the mansion, and my face flamed red again.

“Come on now,” Alistair linked his arm with mine. “Let’s head on in.”

At the front doors, there was a huge qunari standing there, nodding and greeting guests as they arrived. He didn’t have horns on his head like Bull, but he still looked very stern and serious.

“Evening Sten,” Alistair greeted him.

Sten nodded once and then said, “Your father is waiting for you in his study. I was told to tell you to report to him as soon as you arrived.”

“Very well, thank you.”

Sten nodded once again and then turned to face the next arriving guests.

Alistair took a deep breath, then said, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

At the study doors, Alistair knocked once, then twice. The doors were opened by a very handsome, tall, blond-haired man. His blue eyes twinkled. He quickly grabbed Alistair’s hand, pulled him into a quick bear-hug, and gave him a thump on the back.

“Al, you little devil. How are you this evening!”

Alistair gave a half-smile. “Cailan.” He then took my hand and led me up to his half-brother. “May I present my half-brother, Cailan. Cailan may I introduce my companion for the evening, Kylara Amell.”

“Pleasure to meet you, young lady,” Cailan said with a wide grin as he shook my hand. “Though I’ll admit, Al hasn’t said much about you. How long have you been together?”

“Oh… um… We aren’t. Together, I mean. We’re just friends… from school.”

“Just friends?” Cailan eyed Alistair with curiosity. “I was sure that after the incident with Ellie Cousland that you’d get right back into- ”

Alistair shook his head. “Now isn’t the time to discuss that, Cailan. Please, just drop it.”

Another set of doors in the office then opened and another tall, blond-haired man strode out – though his hair was greying at the temples. The air of authority he had around him made me take a few steps behind Alistair for protection.

“Then when will be the time, son?”

“Maric.”

Maric immediately frowned and I saw Alistair wince. “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me by my given name.”

“Fine…” Alistair gritted out. “Father.”

“That’s better.” Maric then looked behind Alistair, where I was trying not to cower, but failing. “And who is this young lady here? Is she the one you told me about this afternoon?”

“Yes… father. This is my companion for this evening, Kylara Amell.” He gently tugged my hand to bring me closer. “Kylara, may I present my father, Maric Theirin.”

Maric took my hand and gave it a squeeze. His eyes raked coolly over me and in that moment I knew I had been judged… and deemed unworthy. He let go of my hand and then said without looking at me a second time said, “Nice to meet you.” He then gave what I figured to be a curious glance at Alistair before quickly changing the subject. “There are a lot of influential people here tonight, Alistair. I hope you make the most of it and greet them all.”

I saw Alistair give a faint nod. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, let’s all head down for cocktails. Dinner will be at 8:30 sharp.”

Maric quickly strode off. Cailan followed but briefly turned around to me. “Nice to have met you, Miss Kylara. Do enjoy yourself this evening.” He then turned back and jogged a few steps to catch up to his father.

Alistair sagged slightly against the nearby wall.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He took a quick breath, stood back up straight and muttered, “Fine. Just dandy.” He caught my concerned look and then gave a weak smile. “Come,” he said and took my arm. “I think I could use a good stiff drink right about now.”

Back downstairs, the bartender asked what I’d like.

“Sex on the Beach,” I said quickly.

“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed.

Alistair chuckled. “Ah, how about a Sidecar for the lady, and I’ll take a Whiskey Sour.”

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”

Our drinks were quickly made and handed to us. Alistair then gently led me away from the bar. I took a sip of what he ordered for me. It wasn’t too bad. Then I glanced up at him. “Did I do something wrong back there?”

He smiled and said, “This isn’t like a club or a college bar, so a lot of drinks you may be used to aren’t going to be available. Mar- ” he paused for a brief second. “My… father… only carries the high-end spirits and liquors.” He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “I don’t think Maric would know what Peach Schnapps was if it came and bit him in the ass.”

I giggled at his comment but quickly stopped when I saw disapproving stares from some of the other guests.

Alistair lead me around the room as people mingled and chatted quietly. He gently pointed out several high profile people.

“That man over there,” he indicated a dwarf with a very hairy chest and wearing gold chains on his neck, “is Varric Tethras. He is an accomplished author renowned throughout Thedas. Most of his stories concern themselves with outcasts and tragic mistakes. Have you read any of his books?”

I shook my head, but said, “I know Leliana has both ‘Hard in Hightown’ and ‘Swords and Shields’. Maybe I’ll borrow them from her now.”

“Over there,” he carefully pointed at a stern woman with cropped black hair and a scar on her left cheek, “is Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast.”

“So many names?” I commented quietly.

“She is, or was Nevarran royalty. Now she is Right Hand of the Divine and Seeker for the Chantry.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t really sure what all of that meant, so I just nodded slightly.

Alistair also pointed out both Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard, both from Orlais, and the Prime Minister herself, Anora.

So many powerful people in the room, my head began to spin. So many things I could possibly say or do that could easily offend any one of these people. My legs began to tremble. I really don’t belong here…

Alistair noticed my discomfort. “Are you all right, Kylara? You look a bit pale.”

“I… I think I just need to sit down… for a bit.”

He nodded and began escorting me to some chairs in the corner of the room. Just then, a thin, tanned elf with blond hair tied back in a queue came up to us.

“Zevran,” Alistair said with mild surprise. “I thought your business with Maric had been completed already.”

Zevran gave an oily smile. “What can I say? My services are apparently in high demand.” His eyes then drifted over me. “Ah, and who is your charming companion this evening?”

Keeping one arm around my waist to hold me steady, he quietly said, “This is Kylara. Kylara, Zevran is a… business associate… of my father’s.”

Zevran picked up my hand and kissed it, though his eyes didn’t leave my face. “Zevran Arainai, at your service, dulce doncella.”

His accent had me curious. “Where are you from, Mr. Arainai?”

He flashed a bright grin at me. “Oh, no Mr. Arainai. That is far too formal for me, yes? Just call me… Zev.”

“Zev?”

Alistair quickly spoke up. “Zevran will be just fine.”

Zevran gave a short laugh. “As you wish. As for your earlier question, I hail from Antiva. Antiva City, to be precise.”

My mouth formed a small ‘o’, then I asked, “Isn’t that the country that has that secretive organization, The Crows?”

Zevran’s eyes glinted, “Oh? And what exactly do you know of such things?”

Alistair stepped in. “Probably nothing more than what local tabloids and gossip magazines have spread, right, Kylara?” He gave my waist a slight squeeze, but I saw Zevran’s eyes dart down and then back up to us.

“Uh… y-yes. Just gossip magazines,” I mumbled.

“I see.” Zevran’s lips were thin, but one corner curled mischievously. “It was nice to have met you, Kylara. Alistair? Give your father my regards.” He bowed once, then left us.

Alistair let out a soft breath. Making sure that Zevran was out of earshot, he then muttered, “I really don’t trust him.”

As we continued our way to the chairs, I trembled again. “I made another mistake, didn’t I?”

We sat down together on a small setteé. “There are rumors,” he began, speaking very softly, “that Zevran is a high ranking person in The Crows.”

Aghast, I whispered, “They don’t really assassinate people anymore… do they?”

“I don’t know. But I would definitely not mention it any more this night.”

Fearfully, I nodded.

“I am going to get us another drink. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

“I… should be.” Alistair got up, but I caught his wrist. “Please, hurry back, okay?”

He smiled and nodded, then left.

Suddenly, Zevran reappeared and swiftly sat down next to me. I tried to remember to breathe.

“You would do well to heed this advice, Kylara.” The way he said my name gave me chills. “You are out of your league here. You should go back to your dorm and put any more thoughts about Alistair Theirin out of your pretty little head. He is not for you.”

Trembling, I managed to stutter out, “W-we’re just fr-friends. That’s all.”

Zevran put his arm around my shoulders and leaned in closer. “Ah, but you see, that is just the thing. Friends can become much more. So were I you, I’d find some reason to tell him you are no longer interested in being ‘friends’… or better yet, perhaps you should consider changing schools, yes?” He got up, graceful and fluid, then before my eyes, vanished into the shadows.

I glanced all around the room. No one else had apparently seen this. Had I just imagined that whole scenario? I then noticed I was clenching something in my hand. I carefully opened it… to reveal a tiny origami crow.

Alistair returned shortly and handed me a large glass of red wine. After the scenario with Zevran and finding the tiny paper crow, I had stuffed it into the crevice of the setteé. I took a few deep calming breaths to try and settle my jangling nerves. Can’t let him know that anything is amiss. Just need to get through the rest of this evening… then I can work out what I will do.

“You are doing better?” he asked.

I took a sip of the wine and replied, “I’m fine.”

“Well, that is good.” He held out his hand and helped me to stand. “Come now, it is time for dinner.”

Dinner was an utter disaster. For one thing, I wasn’t seated next to Alistair, but all the way at the opposite end of the table. I could barely see him at the far end, seated near Maric and Cailan. Secondly, I looked at the place settings and wondered why there were so many utensils on the table.

I grabbed a piece of bread out of a basket and began nibbling on it, trying to calm myself again, only to get frowns of disapproval from the high-end guests seated near me. It was then that I noticed that no one was eating anything yet. They were patiently waiting for Maric to begin.

I tried to slowly set the roll back on my plate but accidentally dropped it. It bounced off my lap and onto the floor somewhere under my chair.

A few moments later, the first dish was now being served. A covered plate was placed in front of me and then opened to reveal some type of shellfish, still in its shell, with a green sauce covering it. I grabbed the nearest fork to me and stabbed it into the shell, not realizing that they were all sitting on a bed of coarse salt. Salt granules scattered off of my plate and went all over the table.

“What do you think you are doing?” It was the woman Alistair had introduced as Cassandra. Her Nevarran accent thick, she scowled. “Have you no manners?!”

Mortified, I put the big fork down, then realized that all the guests were using the smallest fork that had been at the end of the lineup of utensils. I murmured quietly, “I-I’ve just never been to a dinner… such as this.”

Her voice dripped with disdain. “That much is obvious.”

I wanted to vanish, but instead decided I’d be better off just trying to get this meal over with as soon as possible. I picked up the delicate fork and this time carefully pierced the meat. I had never eaten anything like it before, but since everyone else seemed to be enjoying it, I figured I should at least try it. It tasted salty and rich. I chewed carefully then swallowed. Deciding I didn’t care for it, I set the tiny fork down and decided to wait for the next course.

Several minutes later the shellfish plates were cleared and the next covered dish was set in front of me. The lid was lifted and what I saw made me blanch. It was clearly raw meat, and on top of that was a tiny uncooked egg yolk.

“Um…” I tugged on the sleeve of one of the men serving. “I think my dish wasn’t cooked?”

“Mademoiselle, that is steak tartare. It is supposed to be raw.”

Raw fish I could handle, as I loved sushi… but raw beef? My stomach churned. As the other guests were eating the meal and I saw the egg yolk running down the plate, I knew it was too much. I quickly got up, but in my haste, I knocked over my wine glass.

“My dress!” Cassandra cried. “You clumsy girl!”

I could take no more. I stumbled away from the table. My high heel pierced the dinner roll that had been under my chair, causing me to trip. But I managed to get away and to the bathroom before I vomited on the floor.

From the other end of the table, Alistair saw what had happened and tried to get up.

“Sit… down,” Maric commanded.

“But… I need to see if she is all right.”

“You don’t need to do anything but stay right here.”

Alistair glared at his father. He put his napkin down, pushed his chair back and stood up. “Please accept my apologies, everyone,” he said crisply to the guests. Then he got up and walked off.

I heard a knock on the bathroom door. From outside Alistair spoke, “Kylara? Are you all right?” There was a pause and then, “May I come in?”

Weakly, I replied, “Yes.”

The door opened slowly and Alistair walked in. He saw me sitting on the floor of the bathroom. Red splotches covered my skin.

Alistair knelt down next to me. “Oh! W-what happened!”

“I… I think I am allergic to whatever that shellfish was.”

“Oysters. They were oysters.” He held my hand. “Will you be okay?” “I think so… I only ate one.” I didn’t mention that I had thrown it up. “I have antihistamines back at the dorm.”

He stood up and then helped me up. “Let’s get you back home then.”

We rode back to the college in the limo in silence, then I finally said, “I’m sorry I ruined your fancy dinner.”

“You didn’t ruin it. After we left, I am sure that they continued on as if nothing had even happened.”

“But… I ruined Cassandra’s dress. She will probably insist I buy her a new one!”

“No. She won’t. I’m sure Maric will have already taken care of it.”

I held back a sob. “Your father doesn’t like me, does he?”

Alistair scoffed. “Maric doesn’t like anyone much. Don’t worry about what he thinks. I still like you, Kylara. Very much.”

I turned to look at the scenery blurring by the limo windows. I wiped a tear off of my cheek. “Why?” I asked quietly, “What is so special about me?”

“You are not like any other girl I have ever known. You are quiet, sweet, smart. You are also fiery, passionate about what you believe in…”

I smiled a little, even as another tear fell. “Even when I argue about the perfect grilled cheese?”

He chuckled. “Especially then.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “I want to continue being your friend.”

I thought back to what had happened with Zevran and the threat he had delivered. I shivered. “I… I don’t think it is a good idea, Alistair.”

“What? Why?” He sounded surprised… and a little hurt.

“I know you didn’t ask for this, but you were born into privilege… and with that comes specific obligations.” I let out a sigh. “I am not like the people who were there at the party tonight. I made a fool of myself in front of them all. We are two very different individuals, Alistair… and I don’t belong.” My chest felt heavy. “Not with them… and not with you.”

The limo pulled to a stop outside of my dorm. Without waiting for Blackwall to open it, I got out and began slowly walking to the side entrance to the dorm. I didn’t want to face anyone who might still be in the lobby. Suddenly my ankle wobbled and I fell to my knees. “Curse these fucking shoes!” I took them off and threw them into a nearby bush. Then I began to cry.

A moment later, I felt Alistair place his tux jacket on my shoulders. “Come on now, Kylara. Let me help you up.” Weakly, I accepted his hands as he pulled me to my feet. He walked me to the door, then finally asked, “Kylara, please. I know you think we have nothing in common, but I don’t want to lose you as a friend. I will give you some space for the moment, but I hope that you will reconsider.” He leaned down and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Give me a call or text whenever you feel ready, all right?”

I could only nod in silence. I then scanned my student id on the door panel and walked into the building. The lights were off in the hallway and when the glass door closed, I could see Alistair standing there with his hand on the door. Then he turned and slowly walked away with his shoulders slumped.

Fortunately, Leli was not in our room to cross-examine me about tonight. I sat down on the edge of my bed and it was then that I realized I still had Alistair’s tux jacket on my shoulders. I carefully took it off and then cradled it in my arms. When I held it up, I could smell his scent on it. I held it close to my nose and inhaled, then hugged it to my chest as fresh tears began to fall.

#fictober19 #dragon age #alternate universe #modern thedas #fancy dress party #socially awkward #angsty feels #minor language

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meticulouswriting · 5 years ago

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Three Mages Walk Into a War, Chapter 12: Telling

Fic Summary: It sounds like the start of a bad joke: three mages walk into a war, and… Well, they’ll figure out the rest later. Chapter Summary: Quiet moments and confessions. Pairing: Lanyla x Cullen, Aliss Hawke x Fenris, Tamsyn Amell x Zevran Warnings: None

AO3 Fic Masterpost

*Author’s Note: this chapter is a little different in length and structure; it just didn’t seem right to sandwich these scenes between travel and party prep*

Hawke lost track of exactly how long she stayed there, propped up against a desk in a tiny library, the Hero of Ferelden’s arms around her. The Hero of Ferelden, who was also her long lost cousin.

Good thing I didn’t wear all the spiky bits today, she thought. She half giggled at the mental image of Tamsyn trying to hug her around her usual armor, and then found that once she started laughing it was hard to stop. Tears sprang to her eyes, and it was all she could do stop shaking long enough to try and wipe them away. She laughed harder at the ridiculousness of it, then started crying because it wasn’t ridiculous, it was her life and she didn’t know what she was going to do.

Oh. Hysterics. These were hysterics.

Tamsyn didn’t say anything, just let her laugh and cry herself out. When the sobbing and the laughter had faded, Tamsyn still didn’t speak, just handed Hawke a clean handkerchief and let her have a moment to wipe her face and catch her breath.

“Thank you,” Hawke said, her voice hoarse. “For everything.”

“Of course,” said Tamsyn. Her brow was still creased with concern. She watched Hawke warily, like she was waiting for another breakdown. When Hawke held herself together for another few seconds, the Warden continued. “I meant what I said about you not being alone. Whatever you decide to do next, I’ll be here to help you through it.”

Tamsyn walked to a box in the corner, one marked with both the Amell crest and a double griffon. She rummaged in it for a moment, eventually pulling out a pair of simple clay cups and a box of tea. Hawke watched every motion, letting herself focus on that instead of on the thoughts whirling through her head.

Setting the cups down, Tamsyn waved a hand over them, summoning balls of ice in each one. Another practiced gesture melted the ice, a third set the cups steaming. She added a precise amount of tea to each one, letting them steep as she turned back to Hawke.

“Does Fenris know?” she asked. Her voice was low, gentle, inquisitive without being pushy. It reminded Hawke of watching Anders in his clinic, watched him use his best bedside manner a scared patient.

Hawke wished that he was here now. She missed her friend, missed knowing that no matter how she messed up there’d be someone there with a hug and smile and a story about someone who’d messed up worse.

Hawke twisted the handkerchief in her hands. She was letting her thoughts ramble again, giving herself excuses not to think about what was actually going on.

“No,” she said, finally answering the question. “He knows that I felt sick, but I blamed it on the road and the party. I haven’t told him that I thought we were… that I was…”

“Are you going to tell him?” Again, Tamsyn’s tone was carefully neutral.

“Shouldn’t I?” asked Hawke. “Isn’t that… I don’t know, the right thing?”

“Don’t worry about what you think is the right thing, or what you think you’re supposed to do. What do you want?”

What did she want?

She and Fenris had talked about the future. About maybe, possibly, raising a family together. But it had always been more theoretical than anything else. Like the idea of packing away swords and not needing to wear armor every day, it was something that was always going to be later. When the wars were done, when they’d killed enough slavers, when it was all over.

And, yes, the idea of a couple of little ones with Fenris’s eyes and her father’s nose and her own ginger hair had been a favorite daydream of hers for longer than she’d like to admit. But it had never seemed possible, not with the life she led. So she’d shoved them aside and only ever mentioned it on the rare occasions she and Fenris had a spare moment to relax and to fantasize about the future.

None of those fantasies had included a war with an ancient magister.

But… had anything in her life ever gone according to plan? Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised.

It was an impossible situation, but… impossible situations were kind of her speciality.

So if she wanted this—and she did, she wanted it badly enough that it hurt—why the fuck should she let Corypheus get in her way?

She’d lost her father and her sister and her mother and her friends and everyone. Why should she let this be taken from her too?

“I want to do this,” Hawke said, finally. “I wasn’t planning on it, but… I want this, Tamsyn.” She could hear her own voice gaining strength as she continued. “I’m going to tell Fenris, and I know him, I know he’ll be there for me, but even… even if I’m wrong, I’m still going to do it.”

She realized that she hadn’t actually said the words yet.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she said. “And if Corypheus or Orlais or some new asshole tries to get in my way, I’m going to punch them in the fucking face.”

She stood up. Now that she had a decision, now that she wasn’t just scared and unsure, she wasn’t about to keep sitting and feeling sorry for herself. She very well might go right back to crying and feeling sorry for herself once the initial rush of certainty faded, but she was going to take advantage of that certainty while she had it.

She wiped her face again and waved away the tea Tamsyn offered. “Thank you, but, for now, I need to get going. I need to talk to Fenris before I do anything else.” She hesitated. “I don’t… I don’t actually know anything about what it means to be pregnant? Or, I know the basics, how I got this way isn’t some grand mystery, but… what do I do? To take care of myself and…” almost without thinking, her hand went to her middle.

Tamsyn set down the cups. “I can help with that,” she said. “There are a few teas, some herbs that will help you both stay healthy. It’s all basic enough, I’m sure the stores here will have it. And there are enough healers here that I can pull everything without someone realizing what I need it for.” She paused, thinking. “You are going to start showing, Hawke. Some of that can be hidden with your clothes, of course, but… you will need to decide how to go about telling people.”

Wonderful. Another thing on the to-do list she didn’t ask for. “I’ll… have to think about it,” she said. “First, though… I need to go find Fenris.” She turned away from the desk and started towards the hall.

“Aliss?” said Tamsyn, just as Hawke reached for the door. “Thank you. For trusting me with this. And… for what it’s worth, I think you’ll be an amazing mother.”

Hawke didn’t know where to look. She hadn’t been in Skyhold long enough yet to know all of the places where Fenris might be, and when she couldn’t find him with Varric, in the courtyard, or in the tavern, she’d essentially exhausted her list of places she was familiar with.

The longer she looked, the more she started to lose her nerve. She was confident that Fenris loved her, of course she was. They’d been through so much, and she knew that there was no fight he wouldn’t follow her into or enemy he wouldn’t support her against.

But there was a nagging part of her that had to wonder… was this it? The thing that would be too much?

She tried to shake off her fears as she climbed the staircase to the fortress’s outer wall and the door to her new office.

It was empty. Unsurprising, really; she’d only been in it herself to get to her quarters the next floor down, and in all honesty she wasn’t sure if many other people even know it was assigned to her now.

Hawke called down the ladder for Fenris. There was no answer, no light showing. He wasn’t there, which meant that Hawke had run out of ideas. With a sigh, she leaned against the edge of the desk.

She’d tried to focus on one thing at a time, on the actual process of finding Fenris before worrying about how exactly to tell him that she was pregnant. Compartmentalizing wasn’t always her strong suit, but it had worked for a little while. It was easier not to worry about how the conversation might go if she was busy thinking about how to arrange the conversation in the first place.

But now that she was alone, and couldn’t think of anywhere else to look, reality was weighing down on her again.

Andraste’s flame-roasted tits, how was she supposed to even open that conversation? Was she meant to just blurt it out? That didn’t seem right, but there wasn’t exactly a smooth way to drop a surprise pregnancy into conversation.

Biting a thumbnail, she drummed the fingers of the other hand against the desk. Planning was another thing that had never been a strong suit, but she felt like she ought to have one. Which would be easier to do if her head would stop spinning or her stomach would stop churning.

Maker, her stomach.

Just a moment later, she found herself bent over a vase in the corner that was probably meant to be decorative. Maker’s balls, but she was not looking forward to more of this.

Because whatever entity controlled luck and timing hated her, it was then that she heard the door open and close, soft footsteps entering the room.

“Hawke!” said Fenris, alarmed.

He went to Hawke’s side, dropping to his knees beside her, one gentle hand on her back. As she finished and sat back, Fenris brushed hair from her face and let her have a moment to collect herself. His brow was creased with concern, eyes searching hers as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

“Hawke, what is going on?” Fenris helped her stand, letting her lean on him for support. “This is the second time in less than a day that I’ve found you like this, and you haven’t been acting like yourself…” the concern in his voice turned to frustration. “Aliss, I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Hawke took a step back, fingers twisting together nervously. Fenris just waited, watching her.

There was a pitcher of water and a pair of cups on a table in the corner. Hawke went to it, busying herself with getting a drink and rinsing her mouth. She didn’t meet Fenris’s eyes, but she knew he was still watching.

Finally, she set the cup down and took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” she said. “I have… been keeping something from you. Sort of. I just… I wasn’t sure before, and I didn’t want to worry you if I didn’t actually know, that didn’t seem fair, and, alright, maybe I shouldn’t have kept it to myself, but…”

She was babbling. Funny how being aware of that didn’t actually help her stop.

“I was scared, Fenris, and I didn’t know what to do or what to say or how to bring this up, and I…”

She realized that she’d started crying again. Also apparently not something she could stop.

Fenris stepped close, pulling her against him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just held her to him and stroked her hair.

“I am yours, Aliss,” he said. “Whatever it is, let me help you.”

Hawke took a deep breath. She leaned back enough to look him in the eye without breaking contact.

“What I’m trying to say, Fenris,” she continued, as steadily as she could, “is that you were right. About me keeping something to myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I was scared and I didn’t know for sure until just a little while ago.”

She steeled herself for whatever came next. Watching Fenris’s face, it felt like the world slowed down.

“Fenris,” she said. “I’m going to have a baby.”

His face went slack for a moment, apparently in shock than anything else. The moment dragged on. And on.

And then he was smiling. A wide, white grin split his face, and he pulled her to his chest in a crushing embrace.

He whispered something into her hair, and she didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded like her name.

“So you’re not angry?” she said, hating how small her voice sounded.

Fenris pulled back.

“Never,” he said. He cupped her face in his hands, eyes shining with love and unshed tears. He kissed her, tenderly, and leaned his forehead against hers when they parted for a breath. “Aliss, we’re going to have a baby.” He took a deep breath. “We have… discussed this, before, but I never really thought…” He pulled back to meet her eyes properly before continuing. “I never let myself hope for this. Not now, at least.”

Hawke huffed out a short laugh. “You and me both. I wasn’t exactly planning this, love.”

Fenris took one of her hands. “I know. But no, I could never be angry about this. We may not have thought it would happen now, but… do you want to do this?”

Hawke smiled. “I do, Fenris. More than I thought I could.”

He grinned again, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Then so do I.”

She kissed him this time, and she could feel him still smiling against her lips.

When they finally parted, Fenris took a step back and looked her up and down.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, some of his earlier concern returning.

Hawke grimaced. “My stomach is still not particularly happy with me, but I think that’s normal.”

Fenris kissed her forehead. “Can I get you anything to help? Do you need a healer?”

“I saw one already. Tamsyn. She’s the one who helped me… figure it all out. She said she’d keep helping. There are some herbs, I guess. Things to keep me healthy.” Hawke sat down in one of the solid wooden chairs in front of the desk. “Apparently, having a baby is a lot of work.”

Fenris smiled crookedly and sat down in the chair opposite her. “I have heard that,” he said dryly.

Hawke sighed. “There’s just… a lot. And I don’t know even half of it. Even with the help, I am in way over my head. And there’s a war! With a giant evil darkspawn mage that I may or may not be responsible for unleashing. I can’t just quit, but I can’t keep fighting the way I usually do, and I don’t know how to tell people. Should I tell people? Isn’t there some rule about how long you’re supposed to wait before announcing anything? I don’t even know the rules about how to tell people you’re pregnant, much less how to actually be pregnant, and—”

“And we’ll figure it out,” said Fenris, when she finally paused long enough that he could get a word in. Because she was, again, rambling.

Hawke knew he was right. And she knew that she never had a real reason to be afraid of how he’d react. She loved Fenris. And she knew that he loved her. Whatever else was ahead of them, she would always have that to lean back on.

With that in mind, they started to put together a plan for how to move forward.

With her being the Champion, and both of them working so closely with the Inquisitor, the news would spread quickly once it was out. Both Hawke and Fenris wanted to avoid that for as long as they could. As long as it wasn’t obvious that Hawke was pregnant, they would try to keep it under wraps. They decided not to tell anyone else—other than Tamsyn—until they were back from Orlais.

Luckily, her role in Orlais wasn’t meant to involve combat. Mingling, chatting, and being a flashy distraction wasn’t likely to have too many risks to her health. The only downside was that Hawke would have to deal with a palace full of Orlesians while sober.

In the meantime, Fenris wanted to be there the next time she talked to Tamsyn. If there was anything they needed to do to prepare, he reasoned, it would be easier if they both knew more.

Hawke lost track of how long they talked, figuring out details, tentatively planning for the future. The small window in the tower’s outer wall showed a darkened sky, the sun already sunken behind the Frostbacks.

Stretching out the new kinks in her back, Hawke got out of the chair.

“I am exhausted,” she said. “This has been the longest day I’ve ever had that didn’t actually involve people trying to kill me.”

She reached out a hand to Fenris. “Come to bed with me? I’d like to just lie down for a little while.”

Fenris smiled, and together they made their way down to their quarters and into bed.

Lying there, in a warm bed, with Fenris’s arms around her, Hawke felt better than she had in weeks.

There was a lot ahead of her. She knew that, knew that none of it was going to be easy.

But she also wasn’t going to be alone. And, with Fenris at her side, Hawke knew that she could handle whatever came next.

#fenhawke #fenris x hawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x mage hawke #fenris x female mage hawke #three mages walk into a war #mine #my writing #aliss hawke

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