#and a stone fireplace. floating mantle

[notsureaboutnameyet]

Transitional Family Room

[bitidragon]

Rustic Patio a sizable image of a stone patio in a backyard with a fire pit and an addition to the roof

[m-vd]

Basement Underground Mid-sized elegant underground carpeted and gray floor basement photo with a standard fireplace, gray walls and a tile fireplace

[blizzard-bells]

Transitional Family Room A large, enclosed transitional room with carpeting and blue walls, a regular fireplace, a stone fireplace, and no television.

[wasntallbad]

Transitional Family Room - Enclosed A large, enclosed transitional room with carpeting and blue walls, a regular fireplace, a stone fireplace, and no television.

[slytherin-princess-x]

Slytherinmas day 28

New year wishes

Theo x y/n

Warnings: Nothing but a whole lotta fluff

Word count: 1262

A/n: sorry for the late one I rewrote this so many times to make sure it was perfect for you guys xoxo

The Slytherin common room buzzed with energy as the clock inched closer to midnight. The flickering green flames in the fireplace cast a warm glow over the room, illuminating the lavish decorations that hung from the stone walls. Streamers in shades of silver and emerald fluttered overhead, and a lavish feast sprawled across tables, laden with an assortment of delicacies. I could feel the excitement vibrating in the air, but my mind was elsewhere.

Everyone around me seemed to be caught up in the revelry, laughing and toasting with glasses filled with sparkling butterbeer, but I found it hard to concentrate on anything but the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed. I had been searching for you since I stepped into the common room, weaving through the crowd of students clad in their best robes, feeling a gnawing urgency to find you before the clock struck twelve.

“Oi, Theo!” my friend Draco called from across the room, a glass of fire whiskey in hand. “Come on! Join us!” He was flanked by a couple of his usual entourage, but the laughter they shared felt distant. I offered a distracted nod but kept scanning the crowd.

Where could you be? You had mentioned you would come, and I could almost picture you in that elegant dress that hugged you in all the right places. The thought alone sent a thrill through me and blood rushing round my body. I pushed through clusters of students, trying to catch a glimpse of your familiar silhouette, but all I saw were the faces of people I barely knew, or cared about for that matter. I needed you.

The music swelled, and I could hear the laughter growing louder. In a desperate attempt to keep my composure, I poured myself a glass of fire whiskey, the vibrant colors swirling together in the goblet. I took a deep breath, hoping the taste of the sharp drink would calm the anticipation swirling in my chest. But it only heightened it.

I paused for a moment, my gaze lingering on the large clock that hung over the mantle, its hands moving steadily toward midnight. I scanned the room again, hoping against hope that I would spot you before the countdown began. As I turned, I felt a sudden surge of determination wash over me. I couldn't let the night pass without at least having a moment with you.

I slipped into a quieter corner of the room, where the noise faded just enough for me to think. I could still see the revelry happening in the main area, but I focused on what I wanted. You.

Then, just as I was about to lose hope, I saw you across the room, sitting near the window under a table. Your laughter floated toward me like a beacon as you scrolled on your phone, and my heart raced. You looked radiant, framed by the soft light spilling in from the moonlit grounds. I felt an urgency welling up inside me, and I knew I had to get to you before the year changed

“Y/n?”

“Oh hey teddy.”

She looks up at me with that lopsided smile, no thought behind her beautiful eyes.

”Y/n, mi cara. What are you doing under that table, it's almost midnight.”(My dear). I can't help but question her offering my hand to help her up just as I notice her holding something.

“Uhm, well apparently if you eat 12 grapes under a table at Nye, good things will come to you in the year ahead. Pans did it last year and she got with draco on Valentine's.” I can't help but laugh slightly at her reasoning.

“So you’re doing this....how do you say it...ritual? For a boyfriend?” She shakes her head at me, a bashful smile plastered her face tucking a strand of hair behind her ear

“More for good luck teddy, but I wouldn't complain of a boyfriend came along with it. Come sit, I have plenty of grapes left for you” The small giggle that leaves her lips draws me in, shes like my own drug but she doesn't even know it. I comply, obviously, sitting beside her under the table my head ducked uncomfortably so I didn't whack it off the table.

“My good luck better be not getting neck cramp“ I huffed ever so quietly earning a small hand on my arm and her head on my shoulder muffling her laugh

“If you get neck cramp I'll give you a massage to make up for it”

She bats her eyes at me. I know she's joking but the thought of her hands dragging across my body can only send shivers up and down my body, kind of hoping I do hurt my neck.

I fixate on her eyes, her hair, just her. She breaks our eye contact with a nervous laugh.Like clockwork my hand reaches under her chin turning her head back to me. My eyes flicker all over her face, the way she nervously licked her lips gently biting her bottom lip. Without thinking I let my thumb rub her bottom lip pulling it from between her teeth. Her chest rises and falls more frequently heat rising up my neck as I realize what I did. Fuck, theo. I pull away clearing my throat.

“It's almost midnight, when do we have these?” I lean over her grabbing a handful of grapes.

“Uh- have what?” I suppress the smirk on my face nodding towards the grapes in her hand

“Those Principessa” (princess) she fumbles around to pick up her phone and the time read 11:59. Chanting began all around us

“10…”

“Shit we’re 2 grapes behind” she laughs putting one in her mouth

“9….”

“Hurry up teddy” I laugh at her muffled words her mouth filled with grapes, dio mio she’s gorgeous, even with her mouth filled to the brim with grapes. I watch her with an amused smirk as she picks up a grape, parting my lips and putting it in my mouth with that goddamn innocent look on her face. Fuck. Grapes. Grapes. Think about grapes, Theo. Mental images of feeding her grapes naked in Italy definitely isn’t helping

“5…” god 5 seconds and I’ve only had 1 grape. Fuck sake I want this, nah I need this. Yeah this definitely isn’t about the grapes anymore.

“3..” her laugh infects me, my mind, my body. My heart.

“2…” I can’t breathe when she isn’t near, I can’t go a day without hearing her call me Teddy. That stupid name that never leaves anyone else’s lips.

“1…” I watch her throat bob finishing her good luck thing. 1. ‘Happy fucking new year’ I tell myself before grabbing her throat and leaning in to kiss her. It was tentative at first—a soft brush that ignited a thousand butterflies in my stomach. I could taste the sweetness of the grapes her breath, and I was lost. She responded, tilting her head slightly to deepen the kiss. My heart soared, and I lost myself in the moment. It was everything I had imagined and more—her warmth enveloped me, grounding me while lifting me at the same time.

The kiss grew more urgent, more alive. I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her waist, feeling the softness of her body against mine. She fit perfectly, as if we were two pieces of a puzzle that had finally clicked together. I pull my head back holding her jaw so she’d facing me and not look away all cute and flustered.

“Is that enough luck for you?”

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[the-fiction-witch]

The Witch's Wand P3

I woke in a strange place, I don't know what I was expecting behind the door but it certainly wasn't this. 

My body lay on a dark wooden floor, my dress hung about me, I sat up and looked around the room. I saw behind me the purple door I had stepped through, the wand on the floor in front of me, the room that surrounded me was dark but strangely soothing, the walls panelled with dark brown wood, and on either side of me sat two large doors with two bullseye glass windows in each door, two smaller doors at the end of the room, in front of me was a wooden staircase with a green carpet running down it like a river small silver rods and dust corners on the stairs, hung above was a silver metal candle style chandelier with small flickering candles. 

"Where am I? Hello! Is someone here? What is this place?" I asked but no answer, 

I slowly picked up the wand and got to my feet, I brushed off my dress and tried the door it clicked open and I expected to see the Port Victory Street but I didn't, beyond the door was a garden full of sweet green grass and various flowers with a small stone path leading into the thick woods, with a small river babbling along with fish and flowers, the rain battering the world outside the sweet sound of the drops hitting the stone and grass. 

"Whe- Where did Port Victory go?" 

I shut the door again and tried to see if I could find something inside the house, I headed to the left door and found a small lounge with two large arched windows that looked out into the windows, half wooden walls with white and black striped wallpaper, a few candle sconces, a sweet rounded fireplace lit crackling and fluttering, a mantle with a bunch of snow globes, a few leather sofa's on a round fluffy rug, A painting above the fireplace of a mountain lake the water moving and shifting the little boat floating on the water as if the painting was alive, but no one was here.

I moved close to the fire warming myself up a little and I looked at the snow gloves they all were filled with glittering snow with strange things. Many of them with a layer of dust over the top, I looked through some more seeing a little house by a river, a strange school building, a farmhouse, a basement apartment, a grand gothic manor, a Las Vegas hotel, a fantasy castle, a strange alien world, a place with blu water, a cottage, a small English village, a boat on the water an American mining town and many more. I found one that looked familiar to me I picked it up and saw a large house with a garden and pond and two people sat talking on a bench it was the newest and the least dusty, It looked like a house from Port Victory.

I noticed on the floor was a shattered show globe, the water inside long dried up, inside the model of an island I had never seen before. 

I quickly left the room and went across to the right door, where a gothic cottage kitchen with wooden cabinets painted pale green, large windows looking out to the river with stained glass at their top, a chandelier with more candles and small crystals hung from it, the kitchen littered with small things, copper pans, little vintage style kitchen machines, herbs and jars of ingredients one cabinet behind a stained glass pantry door was filled with jars, bottles and such like you'd imagine an apothecary to have all labelled with words I couldn't read and a wooden table in the centre, on the table a small plate of victoria sponge cupcakes, a cutting board with some half ate tiger bread and a plate of toffee cookies. And I saw a sign above one window.

'Witches Kitchen' 

I left and passed the stairs to open the door to the right of the stairs, as I did I heard this gentle music and perked up to think someone was there but I walked into a beautiful room much like the others with wood and trinkets lining it, but this was a library with books littering the shelves a fireplace not yet lit with a large mirror above it, at one end there must have been over five thousand books all cared for and well-loved, a ladder that ran across a silver railing to access the higher books, a piano sat in the middle of the room under the candlelight playing a tune to itself the keys being pressed but no one playing it, I briefly sat on the small stool watching it play itself seeing the music open but being written as it plaid, on the piano, sat a few frames with faces I somehow felt I knew the least dusty a small photo of a child no older than two. I got up from the piano and moved to the desk close to the fire with various items scattered across it.

The items all were there for bookbinding, leather, string, pages, an ink pen and in the centre a book in the process of being made open to a page.

'He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead shutting his eyes and letting his lips linger against my skin, but he pulled back not even baring to make eye contact as his hand slipped from mine, the rush of cold air against my skin without him there, and as he turned and walked away I felt like he had taken his scalpel and cut open my chest, taking my heart with him when he went. I wanted to run after him but I was paralysed, My tears flooded like a burst dam, my cries mad and hysterical, my breathing harsh and jagged as I desperately took in the air between my violent sobs, my legs went weak and my knees failed to let me fall to the dusty dirt. my violent cries echoed through the empty streets as I muttered or tried to call out.

"No... No... No... Jack... Jack... Please... Please Jack, please... No please just come back... Just come back, please... Please... Come back, Jack..."

I tried to call his name, I begged him, I pleaded with him, I screamed out in utter desperation as my heart broke into a thousand pieces...'

"What? But- but that's- I said that." I spoke up, "Who. Who wrote this!" 

I ran out confused and checked the last room for any sign of people but no luck this was a small room with some seats, rugs and blankets, a cup of apple juice by the table, a conservatory looking out to the garden, littered with flowers, plants and herbs all being battered by the rain, the rain landing on the glass roof making this calming sweet sound, but I left as there was no one here. 

In my confusion, I began to walk up the stairs still looking for any sign of people. 

[lunarsimmer]

[Begin Image Description:

Image 1: A teen sim with long wavy brown hair talking on a cell phone with a sad expression.

Image 2: A sim with short wavy brown hair looking down sadly, next to them is a white text box reading Widow (From Losing a True Love) followed by the words Few things are sadder than when spouses are separated by death.

Image 3: A sim with short wavy brown hair crying in front of a golden urn resting on a fireplace mantle.

Image 4: A sim with short wavy brown hair crying next to another sim with short wavy black hair looking sad as The Grim Reaper floats behind them.

Image 5: Two sims, one with short wavy brown hair and one with short wavy black hair sobbing in front of a golden urn on a fireplace mantle as The Grim Reaper sits on the couch and watches a cooking show on the TV.

Image 6: A sim with short wavy brown hair sitting on a couch, looking sad while talking on a cellphone.

Image 6: A dark grey and light grey gradient banner with the words Stone Legacy on the left with a swirly heart inside a house above it and the words gen 1 on the right with a swirly heart inside a house above it.

End Image Description]

Story and dialogue below cut:

As the household reels from Garrett’s death, they all find different ways to cope.

Sonia: Darwin? Sorry for bothering you, I just really need to talk right now...

Oh Gemma...

Gemma: Don’t talk to me, I just want to be left alone.

There’s going to be a lot of mourning, and having the Grim Reaper hanging around isn’t exactly helping!

Grim Reaper: What? You get good reception!

And there’s still one other person who needs to be told about Garrett.

Gemma: Hazel? Is Ashton with you, I have some bad news sweetheart...

Beginning / Previous / Next

[safequeersex]

Family Room in New York

[chloesomeone]

New York Traditional Family Room

[readrtheme]

Open Family Room

[mllekurtz]

From the slow burn prompts: "grabbing each other’s face and not being able to let go, or look away, leaning in to kiss just as you’re being interrupted", maybe?

Hello, have a sequel to this ficlet! This fill can be read on its own, however, the simple premise being that the wizard have been outrageously flirting with each other just before this happens.

Thank you @floatysparrowthing and @kmackatie for all the yelling, as always ♥

*

Shadowgast, post-canon, 1.8k words (this one is chonky!)

CW: nudity, but nothing really spicy happens

“You were bold tonight at dinner.”

The observation, made in lieu of a greeting, welcomes Essek when he reaches the hot springs after declining Jester’s offer of more pudding.

The Mighty Nein have scattered after dinner, Yasha and Beau disappearing together, hopefully somewhere secluded enough, and Cad and Fjord sitting with a warm drink near the fireplace. When Veth expressed the desire to be Teleported back to Nicodranas, Caleb wordlessly accompanied his old friend outside, where he could cast undisturbed. He nodded to Essek before leaving, a silent acknowledgement born out of the habit of there being just the two of them around. While he was sitting next to Jester, happy to be a quiet audience to the accounts of her adventures on the high seas, Essek thought it wasn’t a habit he regretted at all.

He blamed their routine of checking in on each other for his steps leading him to the hot springs in the middle of the Blooming Grove. While in Aeor, this place was sorely and openly missed by the both of them, so he knew where he would find his friend.

As he expected, he finds Caleb soaking on the edge of the pool, the still surface reflecting the globules of amber light dancing above his head, luring not a small number of moths and other smaller flying critters to them.

Essek isn’t making any noise as he comes closer, but Caleb is facing the path and has his eyes open, so he sees him. He’s also in a state of complete undress, and as Essek comes closer he silently thanks the water’s refractive properties for their consideration towards his modesty, something Caleb himself doesn’t seem to be concerned about.

“It’s a rare pleasure to be in the company of our friends,” Essek answers as he reaches the point where the water laps at the rocks. “I feel like it would have been immoral not to indulge in it.”

Caleb smiles and closes his eyes as he lays the back of his head on the mossy rock behind him. “Happiness looks good on you.”

Everything looks good on you, Essek would say, if they were still playing the game he started at dinner. It’s easier to do that in the company of others, where he can actually pretend it’s a game.

A reprieve from the chaos, even one he is fond of, was nonetheless needed. Judging from how relaxed Caleb looks, wet hair loose and pulled back and a smile still dancing on his lips, he needed it too.

“The same goes for you. How’s the water?”

Caleb cracks one eye open. “Very pleasant. It would be a shame not to enjoy it.”

Essek smiles. “You make a compelling argument.”

His mantle is already off, slung unceremoniously on a chair in Caduceus’ home. Essek steadfastly ignores Caleb’s eyes on him as he takes off his shirt and shoes. The stone feels sun-warmed under his feet when he lands on it. He probes the water with his toes before gingerly stepping in, making peace with the fact that his trousers and undershirt are going to get wet.

The stone is slippery and his hands are ready to cast, to save his dignity in case he loses his balance. He’s focused on that, when he hears the splash of something moving in the water. Caleb is swimming to the centre of the pool, where the water is deeper. His Dancing Lights follow him dutifully, and Essek suddenly understands the point of view of a moth much better.

He stops walking when the water reaches his shoulders and the bottom starts getting too muddy for his tastes. He takes one hand out of the water to cast his floating cantrip, which makes Caleb chuckle fondly.

“That’s cheating. You can just swim.”

“I would if I knew how,” Essek retorts, then shivers. “Also, I can’t see the bottom. I don’t trust what might be there.”

“Just algae, mud, and a man’s skull,” Caleb answers with a shrug.

Just in case he’s serious, Essek refrains from asking about that last part. He stays where he is as Caleb moves closer. “Not all of us are fearless,” he quips back. Or giants, he thinks, seeing as Caleb’s feet are clearly touching the bottom of the pool with no effort.

They’re so close that Essek could touch him, if he wanted. If he were fearless.

“Sometimes the devil isn’t as bad as you paint it,” Caleb tells him very seriously. “It’s a Zemnian proverb.”

Essek’s eyes follow a drop of water as it falls from his hairline and runs down his temple. “Our equivalent would be, ah… a storm is not always as bad as it is loud.”

The silence that falls between them is filled with crickets, a few nocturnal rustles in the trees around them, and the low, soothing sounds of the water surrounding their bodies. The patient, quiet anticipation in Caleb’s eyes makes Essek drop his cantrip with a sigh.

He immediately sinks underwater. With only a vague understanding of how this is all supposed to work, he kicks and flails until his head breaks the surface again, recoiling with a shudder from the seaweed that touched his feet with the gentleness of a lover.

He doesn’t realise he’s clinging to Caleb until he stops coughing. “There’s nothing funny about this,” he says as soon as he can speak again.

Eventually Caleb stops laughing. Essek is still grasping his forearms to keep himself afloat when Caleb reaches out, pushing Essek’s wet hair back from his forehead.

Underwater, his feet sometimes touch Caleb’s legs. It would be very easy to wind his arms around Caleb’s neck, his legs around Caleb’s waist. The mere thought punches Essek’s breath out of his lungs.

The water is clear and warm and shines like a crystal under the light of the drifting globules. It comes up to their chins as they face each other. The silence crackles electric.

Caleb’s hand comes down to cradle Essek’s wet cheek. Despite the calluses, the gesture is maddeningly soft.

Maybe the fact that Essek hasn’t been breathing for a while explains why he thinks it’s a good idea to turn his face into Caleb’s hand, pressing a kiss on his palm.

The idea of looking into Caleb’s eyes after that is terrifying, but Essek can’t do otherwise. It’s a second, or a handful of seconds, maybe a whole eternity, before Caleb pulls him closer by the elbows. It’s easy, since the water makes Essek as weightless as he would be if he were levitating.

Caleb’s mouth is close to his ear when he murmurs, “Is this okay?”

Essek’s voice is lost somewhere around his frantically beating heart, so he nods.

Caleb pulls him even closer, and this time when he speaks his lips graze the shell of Essek’s ear. “Breathe, schatz.”

A shiver runs through Essek’s entire body. His arms feel leaden when he moves them on Caleb’s shoulders, as if he were about to start a dance and not holding on for dear life. He’s trying not to think of all the ways their bodies are touching underwater, separated only by the thin layer of his clothes and a last shred of modesty on Essek’s part. He tries not to think of Caleb’s mouth on his ear, of Caleb’s hands on his hips, of Caleb’s everything.

Eventually, Essek makes himself take a shaking breath, in and out. He feel’s Caleb’s smile on his own cheek. “Good.”

Caleb turns his face, just a little, just enough for his lips to brush against Essek’s jaw.

It’s not a kiss. Not yet.

Unable to resist his curiosity, Essek rubs his face against Caleb’s, feeling his beard against the bare skin of his cheek.

It’s… not unpleasant.

The oddness of the situation is rapidly fading away. Another time, Essek might have wondered why Caleb’s presence in his arms felt right and comforting, why it came so natural to touch him, to be drawn to him like they belonged together. After the initial shock of it, the feeling of Caleb’s skin on his own is… nice. The thought that the feeling could be mutual sends another shiver down his spine.

A distant part of Essek’s mind warns him that he should be worried about all this. That he can’t just claim this man for himself. Things are not easy like that. But when he tries to remember why, he comes up empty-handed.

Caleb’s breath hitches when Essek’s mouth finds the hollow of his collarbone and licks the droplets that have gathered in that spot, and he watches as Caleb’s skin erupts in goosebumps. He tastes sweet, like clean water.

He hides his burning face against Caleb’s neck. This may be more than he’ll ever be able to recover from. It also means he has nowhere to go when his chosen hiding spot pulls back to take a look at him.

Gentle hands cradle his head and suddenly the whole weight of Caleb’s gaze is pinning Essek in place. He’s looking at him as if Essek’s eyes contained the answer to every question. Essek is sure Caleb’s learning way more than he’s comfortable showing him, but he can’t make himself look away. Not now. Not anymore.

His hands find Caleb’s face on their own. For a moment, he follows the movements of his fingers as they run through Caleb’s beard, swiping on his cheekbones. Pulling him ever closer.

When their foreheads touch, everything else — the pool, the lovely night in the graveyard, their friends, the people who want them dead or imprisoned for treason — fades into the background, unimportant.

Then, from very, very far away comes Jester’s voice. “Hey, you guys! Stop making out and come back inside! We’re making hot cocoa.”

Essek’s groan is so openly disappointed that Caleb laughs, and the sound is so charming and spontaneous that Essek ends up laughing as well.

“Come.” Caleb presses a quick kiss on his cheek before making his way towards the edge of the spring.

After a moment, Essek lets him go, casting his cantrip and quickly averting his eyes as they step out of the pool, picking up the rest of his clothes as Caleb gets dressed. The night’s air is pleasantly chilly on his hot skin.

A hand on his arm makes him turn around. He’s bare-chested, but at least he’s covered from the waist down. “We can continue this conversation, if you ever feel bold again.”

Essek’s hands bunch up the fabric he’s holding. “I will,” he breathes out.

Caleb’s smile is brighter than the lights that have followed him out of the water. “Good,” he says, and before Essek can react he bends down to kiss him again, right on the corner of his mouth. “I look forward to it,” and he starts walking towards the temple.

Essek would have probably stood there, speechless and stunned, if Caleb hadn’t taken his hand at the last moment.

[mardereads19]

Elriel Month 🌸🦇

Day 6:

Continuation of Day 1: Rosehall.

His mother. His mother was here.

He had never mentioned her before. Elain had not even known she was alive.

Azriel led Elain inside the estate, the shadow spy returning to report in Azriel’s ear what it had discovered. He nodded, but said nothing.

Elain vaguely took in her surroundings, but every detail she noticed quickly faded away from her memory. Her mind was spinning around with the idea that she could meet Azriel’s mother today.

She was not appropriately dressed.

“I just need to check on a few things and then we’ll leave.” Azriel had taken her to a parlor. A fireplace of white stone was on the wall to her left, while a couch made to accommodate Illyrian wings faced it, pushed against the wall to her right. The wall directly before them was covered in windows gazing out to a field of flowers. Elain’s eyebrows raised, her lips lifting at the corners. An image popped into her mind of her sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in her hand and the saucer on the low table, while she gazed at the lovely view. At the flowers and how they swayed in the breeze.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be back in a moment.” Elain snapped back into reality and managed a nod before Azriel strode away, leaving a shadow behind. She watched him go, his stalk proud and easy, his back straight but relaxed. The light played in his wings, painting them red and purple and blue, a melange of color infused with a map of veins. They look soft, Elain thought in awe.

When he was gone, she turned to the fireplace. There were no pictures there. No sign of memories to be seen. The room was mostly empty, safe for the various flower bases, the couch and table, and the bookshelves to either side of the row of windows. There was also a small mirror next to the fireplace where she caught her reflection. The shadow floated just beside it, staying by the mantle of the fireplace, seeming to be looking at her.

Elain frowned at her reflection and reached above her head to pat down a hair that was sticking up. Then, her gazed lowered and she ran her hand through her hair strands. Did they seem too flat? She studied her attire. Was that dust on her dress? With a frustrated sharp exhale, she began to dust-off the area near her bellybutton.

Why hadn’t Azriel told her who would be here? She was not dressed for this. Her dress today was simple, one of the dresses she wore to train. If she had known his mother was here, she would have donned something more pretty, less drably. She would have fixed her hair into—

“What are you wiping away, my dear?”

Elain startled, turning to her left. The female standing there laughed softly. There were wings peaking above her shoulders. They were scarred.

Elain had not heard her come in.

Azriel’s mother.

Elain knew a blush was spreading on her cheeks. Great. She hadn’t even opened her mouth and Azriel’s mother was laughing at her. She was going to stab Azriel with truth teller during training today.

A sudden fear overtook her briefly. Making a good impression on this female was important for Elain. She pushed the reason away, but there was no denying it.

Elain saw Azriel’s shadow tilt curiously from the corner of her eye.

“What’s your name, child?” The female’s voice was tender, but rough like gravel. Her skin was a tanned brown like her son’s and her hair was just as dark as his. Azriel had inherited his father’s eyes, because his mother’s were the darkest brown Elain had ever seen.

A few scars extended across the Illyrian’s cheeks and neck. One of them ran across her right eyebrow.

Beautiful. She was absolutely beautiful. And if Elain had not known this female was older than Azriel, she would’ve assumed she was in her late twenties.

Now she understood why Azriel was so handsome.

The female’s lips twisted up in a smile. Elain blinked. Her name, the female had asked Elain for her name.

“Elain Archeron, Miss,” she answered, shifting on her feet before offering an awkward curtsy.

The female tilted her head to the side —another habit Azriel must have gotten from her— as she regarded Elain. “Elain Archeron?” Elain nodded. “Archeron like my new High Lady?”

Elain nodded again. She cringed and forced herself to speak. “Feyre is my younger sister.”

The female raised her eyebrows. “I see.” She walked closer and past Elain until she stood before the windows, gazing out at the field of flowers.

I see? What did that mean?

“Tell me, Elain. Do you like flowers?”

Elain smiled, coming to stand beside Azriel’s mother, pressing her shaking hands against her dress. The view really was breathtaking, she noticed now that she came closer to it. “I love flowers.”

The Illyrian did not remove her eyes from the field, but there was a smile on her lips as she said, “You smell like one.”

“Jazmine,” they both said together. The female turned to her then. What Elain felt looking at her face could not be described as anything other than comfort. The warmth she radiated with her gentle expression was enough to to make Elain wonder if this was what having a caring mother felt like. Having the female smile at her brought great peace to her heart, diminishing her fear. “My sister, Feyre, told me I smelled of jazmine and honey,” Elain added shyly.

The female grinned. “Yes.” After a moment of silent consideration, she motioned her hand towards the field. “Would you like to—“

Footsteps sounded from the hall and both of them twisted in time to see Azriel come inside the room. Elain’s shoulders relaxed at his presence. He frowned at his mother before noticing his shadow next to the fireplace and throwing a glare it’s way. “My shadows told me you were in your room.”

“I was,” she responded nonchalantly.

Azriel assented with his head slowly. Elain glanced between the two of them, their faces equally impassive.

Azriel glanced at Elain before returning his gaze to his mother. He gave her a small smile. “Hello, Mother.”

The female’s face broke out in a bright grin and she made her way to him, reaching her hand to cup his cheek. His face went soft, his eyes filled with love. Elain’s heart reacted to his happiness in kind.

“My boy,” the Illyrian female said, her voice —like her son’s eyes— full of love.

Elain turned her back to them, focusing again on the field of flowers below. Concentrating on naming them in her head while Azriel and his mother caught up. Eventually, she mentioned something about a leak and began to walk him out of the parlor.

Elain faced them again just in time to see Azriel’s mother pause on the doorway and look at her. Azriel glanced between them, his face neutral. “It was a pleasure meeting you, young flower,” she said. “I do hope to see you again.”

Elain smiled, feeling warm in the face. “Likewise, Miss.”

The female winked at her before leading his son away. Elain heard their cheerful voices fading and was delighted when she caught Azriel’s laugh.

Her eyes found the field again.

What a lovely female. It seemed accurate, that she lived in this graceful home.

The shadow that still stood by the mantle got closer to the view. Then it playfully approached Elain and tugged on a strand of hair before darting back to its initial spot.

Elain laughed. “I know. My hair is a mess.” She ran her fingers through the strand. “It wouldn’t have been like this if it weren’t for your cranky boss.” The shadow did not react beyond twisting in the air. “I don’t care if you tell him I said that.” It moved no more.

She didn’t know if it understood her. But while Azriel and his mother were away, taking care of whatever leak there was, the shadow kept her company. Both of them close to the window, looking out at the view, at the field of flowers. Dark and light looking out.

And as the breeze made all those petals dance, Elain wondered whether she had been meant to see this place and to meet her.

[skyemak]

A Reflection of the Past: Chapter 1

Summary: This work explores Malleus's past until he came to Night Raven College, when he was still but a child. The child spends his days learning new things with his guardian, Lilia, and occasionally spending time with his loving grandmother, Maleficent. He understands he is the next in line for the Valley of Thorns, but all he can feel is love for those around him. One day, his dear grandmother calls for Malleus. It seems she has a gift she wishes to give to him on short notice.

The first chapter is a little over 8k words. Also available on my ao3 account.

Thank you Leon (@scarabbai) for proofreading ❣

The wind had a crisp, cold bite to it as it blew through the night air. Leaves scattered and crunched under two sets of footsteps as they walked a dry dirt road. The child of the two tightly gripped the hand of the cloaked man beside him. As he walked, the young one would glance toward his feet, purposefully stomping on the leaves along their path.

“Malleus,” the man spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, but when the child looked toward him, a gentle smile appeared on his face. Two fangs were easily visible under his smiling lips. “I understand you enjoy stomping on the leaves, but please refrain for now. It’s hard to walk like this.”

Malleus stared up toward the man, peering at his long jet-black hair as it moved with the wind. The man raised an eyebrow toward the child before he nodded, “Okay.”

The cloaked man gripped Malleus’s hand just a bit tighter, “We’re almost there.”

Malleus looked up toward the dark sky. The sun had already set long ago, but small sparse clouds could be seen shifting with the wind among the stars. A stronger wind came through, howling quietly as it ruffled up their cloaks. The child gripped his tighter to his body, tugging at the man’s hand. “Lilia,” he quietly pressed, “how much longer?”

Lilia chuckled, extending his arm forward. “Do you see that light ahead? That’s our destination.”

Malleus looked where he pointed, and indeed saw a humble looking cottage at the end of their path. The child puffed his cheeks to pout. “Why does grandmother need to see me anyway? She never asks to see me.”

“Well, Maleficent has her reasons, Malleus. Besides, does she need a reason to meet with her grandson?” Lilia replied. Malleus did not answer, and they continued to their destination without speaking another word. A few worn stone steps led up to the door of the small cottage. Behind Lilia’s legs, Malleus stood gripping at his cloak. Lilia’s hand slipped out of his coat to knock at the door. A moment later came the sound of approaching footsteps. With a faint creak, the door opened.

“Ah, Lilia, good to see you.” A woman stood inside the cottage, and she spoke with a dignified tone. She stood firm with her shoulders back. There was an elegant air around her, one that demanded authority.

“You’re looking as elegant as ever, Maleficent,” Lilia replied with a smile. He placed his hand over his chest before bowing to her respectfully. Maleficent nodded toward the man before craning her neck to see behind him. “Malleus,” she spoke sternly, but affectionately, “you’re growing up quite nicely. Your horns look almost fully grown. Come in, both of you. I’ll arrange for us to have a cup of tea.”

Malleus stood by the mantle in the main living area. A few logs and some kindling burned in the firepit, bringing a welcome warmth to the young child. He stood on his tiptoes to run his hand along the intricate carvings and design of the fireplace.

“Malleus,” Maleficent spoke from behind him, “I’ve brought you some hot chocolate.” Malleus turned around, seeing his grandmother place a small mug on her short coffee table. Lilia sat comfortably in a lounge chair near the table. He crossed his legs and took a sip of tea from his own mug. With faint steps, the child walked to the mug. He looked toward the brown liquid, happy to see a few marshmallows floating. With both hands at once, he picked up the mug. As he tipped it toward his mouth—

“Be careful, it’s hot,” the woman cautioned.

Malleus looked toward her and nodded. Nonetheless, he put his lips on the cup to drink. After gulping down a few sips, he set it back on the table. “Thank you,” Malleus turned toward his grandmother, a small brown moustache on his upper lip.

“Malleus, you have chocolate on your mouth,” Lilia pointed out. Without any hesitation, the child raised a part of his cloak and used it as a wipe. “Malleus!”

Lilia set down his cup to stand before Maleficent spoke up. “It’s alright, Lilia. It’s a black cloak anyway, and an easily replaceable one at that. Come here, my dear grandson.”

Maleficent sat on her own lounge chair and lightly pat her lap. For a few moments, he stared at her before walking over to climb up and sit on her lap. When he found a comfy position, his grandmother began to affectionately brush her fingers through his bangs. “Soon, you’ll be too big for me to hold you like this,” she commented.

“Indulge in it while you can,” Lilia stated from across the two, smiling toward them.

“While I still can…” Her voice faded. Even as she sat in the well-cushioned chair, Maleficent still sat upright, her movements refined and polished. Malleus leaned against her chest, his eyelids growing heavy as she continued to brush his bangs. Her eyes were filled with that of love for her grandson as she stared at his face.

“Was there something you wanted to give your grandson today, Maleficent?” Lilia asked, quietly setting down his empty cup of tea.

“Oh, yes. Dear me, I almost forgot.” She looked to her side and wrapped her fingers around a small box. “I know you’re tired, my dear.” Maleficent extended the index finger of the hand she used to hold the box to brush his bangs from his eyes.

He sleepily opened his eyes, snuggling closer to his grandmother.

“Hmm?”

“This is for you.” The woman placed the box before his eyes, sliding the top of it open. Malleus peered into the box. With his small hand, he put it in the box and pulled out what appeared to be a small, round mirror. With a bit of struggle, he opened it and saw his own reflection.

“A mirror?” he held it with his hands and looked up toward the woman.

“Yes,” she purred, holding his face and stroking his cheek with her thumb. “It’s not just any mirror. There’s a certain…enchantment on it.”

Malleus turned the mirror in his hands but saw nothing special about it. At a loss, he glanced up toward his grandmother. She merely chuckled and stroked his back. “Do not push yourself too hard, my dear. It’s not an easily visible enchantment.”

“Maleficent, are you sure about giving him something that fragile at his age?” Lilia spoke up. She did not immediately answer his question. Instead, she gently pressed Malleus against her, stroking his back. The child’s eyelids again grew heavy. Malleus leaned his body against her, his hands lowering and loosening their grip around the mirror. In one fluid movement, she grabbed it from his hands and placed it back into the box. The young child’s consciousness gradually faded as he fell asleep.

“Lilia,” Maleficent began. “I’m afraid my time here…”

Lilia jolted, gripping the arms of his chair. “Then, I—” He moved to stand before Maleficent shushed him.

“Please,” she murmured. “He’s sleeping now. Let me enjoy my time I have now with my grandson.”

Lilia sighed and collapsed back into the chair, coming down hard enough for it to slide backward a bit on the wooden floor. He planted his forehead into his palm, staring at the ground in dismay. The only sound in the room was the jarringly pleasant crackling of the fire.

Months had passed since visiting Maleficent. It grew colder through the winter with long nights. In those months, Malleus left his mirror from his grandmother mostly untouched. He found a spot for it on his desk within his bedroom and left it there. As the seasons shifted again and the hours of sunlight extended, the mirror sat at his desk, collecting dust. At this time, the mirror held little significance to him. Malleus still visited his grandmother from time to time, and she pampered him as usual during every meeting. He loved her. At first glance, Maleficent may come off as cold and strict, but he knew how truly affectionate she could be. He always looked forward to seeing her again and struggled to hold back tears whenever parting ways.

Lilia continued watching over Malleus as time passed. Although he was a bit overconfident in his cooking skills, Lilia was a promising teacher to the child. He learned many things from his guardian and felt a sort of affection for him as well. When he was sick, Lilia would be at his side to keep an eye on his condition. When he fell and skinned his knee while playing outside, Lilia would be there to help him calm down and bandage his wound.

One topic always caught the boy’s attention. Throughout Malleus’s life he’d only seen and met other fae. However, Lilia told him of another creature, a kind that Malleus had never heard of before—humans. A different sort of species that varied from his own. Each region mankind resided in would include their own cultures, their own language, their own way of living. The thought of meeting a human some day excited Malleus. He became even more intrigued when he learned of a human kingdom not too far away.

Years ago, a nearby kingdom of humans celebrated the birth a new princess. They invited many citizens of power to the event, but failed to invite Maleficent. Presuming something went wrong with the invitation, she still made an appearance, and even bestowed a gift unto the princess. The people of the kingdom were displeased with her gift and resented her. Malleus could not himself understand the full circumstances, but presuming they were as intelligent as Lilia had suggested, he felt the two groups could eventually come to terms.

One day, Lilia told Malleus that he had urgent business with Maleficent he had to attend to. At the time, Malleus thought nothing of it—it was routine. Expecting Lilia to be gone for a few days at most, Malleus accepted the declaration and told Lilia he hoped to see him and his grandmother again soon. The child was too naïve to realize the how pained Lilia’s smile was when he departed.

A week had passed since Lilia’s departure.

Malleus did not expect for him to be this long. He had never been gone for this long before. The child sat at his desk, kicking his feet that dangled above the floor. Malleus rested his arm on his wooden desk, laying his cheek on top of it. His other arm was outstretched on the desk, spinning the mirror that Maleficent gifted him not too long ago. Truly there was nothing to note of this mirror. When holding it to look at his reflection, he never looked distorted or disfigured. It was just his own face. Nothing would appear behind him in the reflection, nor did it share any new information. The backplate was based off iron, with a decorative design that reminded him of vines. The only factor of this mirror that felt disjointed to him was the fact it had no handle. It was just a normal, round mirror.

Outside the window of his room at the villa, the sky was a deep orange, with few clouds drifting overhead. A few yards away, a few small fairies gathered around a ring of mushrooms. Some used the caps of the fungi as seats and clapped as others danced and sang within the circle. Here and there were still a few patches of snow yet to melt, but one could expect them to be gone by tomorrow’s afternoon sun. “The Fairy Gala’s probably coming up soon…” Malleus mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a door opening in the direction of the villa’s entrance. At once, Malleus laid down the mirror and hopped out of his seat. The child ran for the door but froze. He turned around to push the chair in under his desk, as Lilia told him to make a habit of pushing the chair back. Returning to his main objective, Malleus ran out his room and into the hallway. He had a sense of who had returned and couldn’t wait to see him. The enthusiasm of the child’s steps could be heard throughout the villa. He turned the corner and saw Lilia’s figure standing in the foyer, shrugging off his cloak. “Lilia!” Malleus exclaimed with a bright smile on his face.

The man jolted. “Mal—” He quickly looked away. His face looked torn as he gritted his teeth, gripping his cloak hard his knuckles turned white. Of course, the child was oblivious to all of this, opting to run to his side and wrap his arms around the man’s leg.

“I missed you,” he mumbled to his pants. After a few moments of silence, Lilia reached down and patted the child’s head.

“I…missed you too, Malleus.”

The boy looked up, resting his chin on Lilia’s knee. “How’s grandmother?” he asked with an innocent, fanged smile. Lilia stiffened. “What’d you have to do with her? Is it adult stuff again?” Lilia didn’t answer, biting his lip. “Lilia?”

Abruptly, Lilia dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Malleus, tightly hugging him. “Malleus…” His voice cracked. The man pressed his fingers against the back of the child’s head, holding him close to his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Absently, Malleus raised his arms, wrapping them around him. “Lilia…?”

The next several days, Lilia seemed to be only a husk of his former self. He’d spend hours on end sitting in the villa’s foyer, staring at the portrait of his beloved master that hung above the mantle. The vampire would slink in his chair, only getting up to use the gentlemen’s room. Maids attending to the villa would deliver him tea and food. He would consume what was placed before him, but it brought him no pleasure. Fine, delicious herbal teas to him were just like drinking hot water. His taste buds could not decipher the difference between a full course meal or a simple piece of buttered bread. When not in his chair, Lilia would be in bed. For a few days he would not leave his room until well into the noon. Malleus, who could not grasp why Lilia acted this way, felt unsure of what to do. Normally Lilia would offer the child a warm smile in the morning with a warm cup of tea. Sometimes he’d come with a prepared breakfast (though the child would always cross his fingers in hopes that it was not made by Lilia). In the afternoon, his guardian would teach him about something new, whether magic, history, or literature. Occasionally he’d tell stories about myths and legends, or perhaps he’d share tales of his youth.

Uncertain of what to do, Malleus would approach Lilia in his chair and ask him about lessons for the day. “Not today, Malleus,” he’d murmur in reply. On another occasion, the child would bring a book to Lilia, asking him to read it with him. It was a fascinating tale about a girl being taken advantage of by her stepmother and stepsisters. The girl dreamed of a better life, but what the book had in store, Malleus did not yet know. After only reading a few pages, he wanted to share this tale with Lilia. He approached Lilia in his chair and lightly tugged at his clothes. Under his arm, the child held the book in question. Lazily, Lilia glanced toward the child. He did not inquire out loud as to what the young boy wanted, instead he stared. Malleus held up his book toward Lilia, smiling brightly.

When his eye caught sight of the book in question, the normally deadpan expression he held twisted into a scowl. The man knew of this book and what the story had in store. “Get rid of it,” Lilia growled. Malleus pulled the book back, holding it tightly against his chest. He looked down, biting his lip to hold a sob before scampering away. The young boy ran to his room, tears falling from his cheeks when he shut the door. He sat down on the cool floor and set down his book, staring at its cover. Why did Lilia not like this book? Did it have a bad ending? Malleus had no way of knowing.

Malleus made the decision to leave his guardian be for the time being. He took the initiative to try and read books on his own and even read some historical texts all by himself. He felt proud of himself, but it left a hollow feeling in his chest. Malleus wanted so much to boast to Lilia about the difficult words he was reading, hoping for him to smile at him and award him words of praise. But he couldn’t. Lilia did not want to be bothered…or at least, that’s all the child could understand from his behavior. However, Malleus still wanted to be present for Lilia’s sake. He knew not what he could do to fix whatever was happening, but he felt a need to do something. One day, he approached one of the maids and asked to help them prepare Lilia’s tea. The task was simple enough for him to handle, and he could be the one to bring him the cup. The maid was hesitant to let someone of nobility perform such a mundane task, but Malleus was insistent. She showed him how to steep leaves for an herbal tea. She was also kind enough to get him a stepstool in the kitchen so he could reach for the tea pot to pour said tea. The maid’s heart fluttered when he smiled and bounced on the stepstool, waiting for the tea to be ready for his beloved guardian. Finally, after the maid helped the young one set up a tray for the teapot, a cup, and a small container for sugar cubes, Malleus’s elbows pointed all the way out as he held up the tray.

“You sure you have a good grip on it, young master?” the maid asked.

“Yes!” he quickly chimed.

She gave him a warm smile as she opened the door leading out of the kitchen. “Good luck then.”

Malleus nodded, staring intently between the tray in front of him and the path ahead. His steps were sluggish but diligent. He had to get the tea to his guardian without spilling a single drop.

He approached Lilia in the same chair he always stayed in nowadays. Lilia’s elbow rested on the arm of his seat, and he held his head up by his fist. Just as before, he stared off into space, in the direction of the Maleficent portrait above the mantle. “Lilia,” Malleus timidly spoke up. Head unmoved, the man glanced at Malleus, awkwardly holding the tray with his elbows up. With a quick “heave-ho”, the child placed the tea tray on the table beside the chair. “Do you want any sugar or honey?” the boy asked.

Lilia’s answer was curt, and to the point. “It’s fine.” Passively, he extended his arm toward the teacup, quickly gulping down his tea, and setting it back on the tray.

Malleus stared at the cup; a bit surprised to see it empty already. “Did you want more?”

“No.”

“…Okay.”

The child couldn’t help but feel a slight knot form in his throat, but he said nothing. Malleus wrapped his fingers around the handles of the tray, holding it up as he did before. He turned on his heel and began his way back to the kitchen. His heart felt heavy, and his feet dragged across the floor as he walked. As the boy approached the kitchen door, he heard murmurs on the other side.

“He made tea for Lilia?”

“Yeah, he looked so cute I couldn’t say no. Plus, I was hoping it’d help cheer him up.”

There was a sigh, “The poor child has no idea… It makes sense Lilia’s upset after what happened to her excellency, but I can’t blame him—”

Malleus slammed his shoulder against the wood to open the door, “What happened to Grandmother?!” he cried.

Two maids stood in shock in the kitchen. The boy set the tea tray on a nearby counter then ran toward them. “Tell me!” he demanded.

“Oh!” one of the maids yelped. “Malleus… Did Lilia like the tea?”

“What happened to Grandmother?” he asked again.

The girls paused, looking at each other hesitantly. One of the two put her hands on her thighs and crouched lower. “We can’t…tell you that, Malleus.”

“Why?! Tell me!” He balled his hands into fists and trembled. Frustrated tears began to well up in his eyes.

In the end, the maids kept their lips sealed. No matter how much he pressed, not a single word would slip their lips. Malleus, frustrated to tears, ran to his room and slammed his door shut. He jumped to his bed and hid under his covers, tightly gripping the blanket in his hands. “Lilia…” he whimpered.

He wanted his normal guardian back. The one who’d sit next to him as he recited old literature and explained it simply enough for the child to understand. The one who’d take him to the forest and show him the different fairies and tell him about their unique traits. The one who’d scold him for trying to ram his horns in a tree and get stuck doing so. The one who’d tightly hold his hand while they walked to his grandmother’s.

Eventually the child cried himself to the point of pure exhaustion and fell asleep for the night. Again, Lilia did not even visit his room once that night to wish his young master sweet dreams. He didn’t smile down at Malleus as he pulled the blankets up to his shoulders to settle for the night. Malleus just felt…alone.

The next morning, Malleus found Lilia had not left his chair that night. Either he had fallen asleep there during the night, or he chose to not leave his seat. Malleus saw a small teacup sitting at the table next to him; a few sips of cold tea remained in the small ceramic cup. Standing at the other side of his chair, Malleus rested his small hands on the chair’s armrest and stared at Lilia’s sleeping face. The vampire’s elbow again rested on the arm rest while his cheek balanced on his hand. A few strands of his dark hair swept over his face unnoticed. Malleus noticed how long his eyelashes were and how pale he looked. Well, it was probably natural for Lilia to have a fair complexion. When awake, there always seemed to be something weighing on his mind, keeping him from his normal habits.

The young boy scampered back to his room, his quick footsteps echoing the hallway. He approached his desk and slipped his fingers under his book, holding it against his chest. Malleus took a step back and leaned toward the door, but a light appeared in the corner of his eye. Sitting there was the small mirror, reflecting light from the morning sun. He reached out and grabbed it. A layer of dust had collected on it as it sat untouched on his desk, so he rubbed the mirror over his clothes.

“Good morning, young master,” one of the maids greeted Malleus as he walked through the hallway.

He glanced up toward her and saw her smile at him gently. “Good morning.”

His footsteps slowed as he returned to the foyer. A nearby window shone a bright ray of sunshine by Lilia’s feet. In a few hours, the ray may migrate closer to Lilia’s face. The mostly empty teacup no longer sat on the table. Malleus approached the ray at his feet, and sat down, crossing his legs. The book laid on his lap with the mirror on top as he scooted back to lean against his guardian’s legs. Lilia stirred a bit, but when Malleus looked behind, he saw his eyes were still closed. Setting the mirror down on his knee, Malleus opened his book and resumed where he had left off.

The royal family of the kingdom invited every available lady to a ball in hopes of finding a potential partner for the young, single prince. Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters were overjoyed to hear of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become a member of the royal family. Great riches would surely be in their future if one of the sisters could marry the prince. However, when Cinderella voiced interest in going to this ball, her family forbid it. They told her she was pathetic and could never be seen as a beautiful woman in the prince’s eyes, let alone a potential future princess. Over and over they’d berate her hair, her face, her lack of etiquette. Truly, Cinderella was not looking to become a princess. Just for one night out of her life, she wished would go to a ball, to wear a beautiful dress, to not break her back doing laundry, cleaning the stairsteps, or clearing out ashes from the fireplace. She wanted a night where she could just be herself.

On the night of the ball, her stepsisters donned beautiful dresses. Their dresses were made of quality silk and dyed in rare, expensive colors. Their mother smiled sweetly at the two, complimenting their appearance. She felt confident one of them would become the next member of the royal family. As they boarded their carriage, Cinderella’s stepmother gave her a list of chores she expected to be done before they returned for the night. Wipe the windows in their bedrooms, dust the vases in the hallway, clean the bathtubs in the bathrooms, and much more. Cinderella, as she stood in her worn tattered clothes, just nodded and said, “Yes, mother.”

Later that night, Cinderella had just cleaned one of the bathtubs and stood outside to dump dirty water to the ground. She sighed to herself, setting the bucket upside down to use as a temporary seat. Her elbows rested on her knees, and she held her head while staring up at the clear night sky. The stars sparkled and twinkled about. “I wish I could’ve gone to the ball,” she murmured.

“But you can, my dear!”

Cinderella immediately rose to her feet and looked behind to see what appeared to be a small fairy.

Malleus smiled to himself at the mention of a fairy. He wondered what the fairy was there for and flipped to the next page.

“Who are you?” Cinderella questioned.

“I’m your fairy godmother!” the fairy exclaimed. “I’m here to help you get to that ball!”

“But I’ve no dress to wear, no way to get there.”

With a wave of her wand, a mist floated from the fairy and surrounded Cinderella. Her tattered clothes transformed into a beautiful crystal blue ballgown. By some strange force, loose curls appeared in her hair. Cinderella was amazed as she looked at the dress and touched her hair.

“But how would I get there?”

“Hmm…” The fairy looked around and pointed toward a pumpkin. “This will be your carriage!”

“But fairy godmother, that’s a pumpkin!”

The fairy again waved her wand toward the gourd, and it grew larger, larger, and larger. It shifted its shape and turned into a pure white horse-driven carriage. “Oh, horses! How could I forget!” the fairy said.  With another wave, a thick mist drifted toward the grass and two horses appeared. “Mice can come in handy sometimes.” She winked. “Get into the carriage my dear! The ball has already started!”

Her godmother led the horses to the front of the carriage as Cinderella swung the door open, a smile on her face. But as she stepped inside, her godmother realized something she forgot. “Oh no, you need shoes my dear!”

“Oh,” said Cinderella, “I almost forgot!”

“Allow me!” the fairy waved her hands once more, and clear glass slippers appeared on Cinderella’s feet.

“Oh, how lovely,” Cinderella said.

“Now, you must hurry!” her godmother pressed, holding the door of the carriage. “My spells only work until midnight. When the clock strikes twelve, you’ll return to your normal clothes, and your carriage and horse will revert to normal. Be sure to leave by then!”

“Oh, thank you!” Cinderella uttered; tears welled in her eyes. “How could I repay you?”

“All I ask is you have a wonderful night my dear!”

Her godmother closed the door of the carriage and the horses began to tow the carriage away. Even without someone to guide them, the horses knew the way to the palace and to the ball.

It felt like she was in a dream when Cinderella arrived at the castle. As she stepped out the carriage and ascended the white stone stairs leading inside, she could see the various lights, decorations and beautifully dressed attendants. She couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place as she entered, but others greeted her with warm smiles, easing tension she felt in her shoulders.

Cinderella did not know where to begin. She’d never attended a ball before. Her glass slippers clopped lightly over the marble floor as she admired the grand room. Above were large, intricate chandeliers. Colorful flowers Cinderella had never seen before hung on the pillars that surrounded the ballroom. Her cheeks seemed to feel sore as she realized she was smiling this whole time.

“Is that…?”

A familiar voice caught her attention. Cinderella dared not to look behind her, as she could feel one of her stepsister’s eyes staring at the back of her head. No matter how much her godmother changed her appearance, Cinderella would be unmistakably recognized by her family. Thinking on her feet, she quickly made her way to one of the many balconies.

The air felt a bit brisk, but soothing. A full moon filled the clear night sky, complementing the lights at the ball. Cinderella gazed toward it blissfully as she approached the balcony railing. She took in a large breath, then sighed. Only after arriving moments ago, her heart already felt full. As if to verify she wasn’t dreaming, Cinderella grazed her fingertips over the railing. The stone felt cold to the touch, with a few uneven spots throughout. She looked down to admire the elegant gown wrapped so comfortably around her body. Cinderella had always heard dresses could feel like a chore to wear on their own, but it was nothing like that.  

Although she had never danced before, Cinderella felt she should return to the ballroom and try her chances in finding a partner. As she turned around—

“Excuse me.”

Suddenly, there stood a dark-haired man, bowing toward her. He held his hand over his chest as he looked at her with a warm smile. He was a well-dressed man, or at least she presumed so. Her eyes could not move away from his. There was something gentle, enchanting about him, and he seemed to look at her the same way. The young man extended his hand, “May I ask for a dance?”

Without a second thought, she took his hand. His other hand found her waist, and her hand found his shoulder. He led her through a slow waltz, the smile never fading his lips as they danced. The commotion of the ball faded. Time seemed to have stopped. They were enclosed in their own world.

How much time had passed was unclear to the two. Eventually, Cinderella had her head resting on his chest, and they reduced to just a slow sway. She felt such euphoria and wished the night would never end.

Suddenly, Cinderella heard the clock tower chime. She looked around and asked, “What time is it?”

“Midnight,” the man answered, “is something wrong?”

“I…” She walked back from the man, holding up her ball gown. “I have to go!”

“Wait!”

However, Cinderella was already darting toward the castle entrance as more chimes of the clock struck. She quickly ran down the stairs, eyeing the carriage waiting for her. In her hurry, one of her glass slippers fell from her foot. Cinderella continued to run to the carriage without looking back. As she stepped inside, she quickly shut the door and the horses began to run.

The man stood at the top of the stairs, staring out in disbelief.

“I don’t even know your name.”

Then, something caught his eye. There he saw a single glass slipper.

That night, Cinderella returned to her home. At the twelfth strike of the clock, her carriage returned to a simple gourd, the horses turned back to mice and ran off, and her beautiful gown returned to her tattered clothes. Although she felt disheartened that night ended so quickly, Cinderella was grateful to have experienced such a dream-like night. One thing did remain from the night that she planned to have as a keepsake – her glass slipper.  The slipper was put in her room, hidden in her closet.

Once her stepmother and stepsisters returned, one of her stepsisters spoke aloud about seeing Cinderella there. Of course, the woman in question denied it. Her stepmother and other stepsister said the idea was ridiculous. Luckily, she quickly dismissed her suspicions.

The next day, Cinderella’s routine returned to normal. She’d clean the ashes at the fireplace, dust the books in the study, and clean the laundry. It was hard work, but her blissful feelings from the previous night lingered. She even hummed as she worked.

That afternoon, Cinderella heard a knock at the door and answered it. They received a letter out of the blue. The letter explained that the prince at the ball danced with a woman wearing a pair of glass slippers.

Malleus snickered to himself when the story mentioned the prince, an innocent smile on his face.

She left before they could properly introduce themselves but left one of her glass slippers. It declared whoever may fit this glass slipper shall be the prince’s bride-to-be. Cinderella was shocked. She’d known she’d dance with a handsome young man, but she never imagined he was the prince!

Inevitably, the rest of the family learned about this letter. They had felt discontent over not attracting the prince’s attention to either of the stepsisters. Though, there were many ladies at the ball and the prince had disappeared for a portion of the night. This was now another opportunity for them! If either stepsister could squeeze their foot into the slipper, they would become members of the royal family! Of course, Cinderella would be another servant attending to the royal family.

The letter explained every woman would be fitted with the slipper, but Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters had no intention of letting her try. When the visitor arrived with the glass slipper, Cinderella was sent to her room. Unbeknownst to her, her stepmother locked her inside. As the vile woman stepped down the stairs to the main room, she could hear Cinderella cry and bang on her door.

Malleus’s brow furrowed, and his grip around the book tightened. It was then the child heard a short metallic clank hit the floor. He was brought back to reality and saw his grandmother’s mirror had fallen from his knee. Malleus reached for the small object but stiffened as he felt fabric brush over his shoulder. A larger hand reached out in front of him, taking hold of the fallen item. As the hand pulled away, Malleus looked over his shoulder. He stared curiously but cautiously toward Lilia.

Until this point, Lilia felt as if he was aimlessly walking beside an ocean coastline. The sand underneath his feet would sink as he stepped forward, andthere was no end or goal in sight. Overhung were dark, grey clouds that seemed to always be on the brink of a downpour, but no rain ever came. The man felt like he was suffocating under the deep, unforgiving sea, but the sea merely brushed against his ankles at most. On and on he’d walk as the saltiness of the sea breeze touched his nose. What laid behind him was sand and water. What laid in front of him was more sand and water. The thing worth mentioning thing that may vary would be the occasional broken seashell. As he continued strolling over the endless coastline, something reflective caught his eye ahead. Tucked into the sand was a small mirror. Lilia stopped beside it; the cold water brushed against his bare feet. He could feel the sand sink further down where he stood. Curiously, he bent down, delicately wrapping his fingers around the object. What it showed was a reflection himself. It was merely a random mirror in the sand, but it felt…familiar all the same. Lilia looked up toward the sky, internally apologizing to his master for not fulfilling his duty.

Suddenly, Lilia felt a slight tug at his legs. Looking down, he saw Malleus’s small hands had taken grip of his clothing. The child’s eyes stared up at him questionably, but he was too scared to speak. Out of nowhere on this deserted beach was a small child, standing at his side. In that moment, Lilia felt a large wave of water hit against his back, soaking him from head to toe. When he blinked, he found himself in the villa, sitting in his chair. In his hand was still the small mirror, and still staring up at him was his master’s beloved grandchild.

Again, Lilia looked at his reflection in the mirror. “…What am I doing…?” he mumbled, setting the mirror down.

He looked back toward the child and put on a gentle smile.

“Lilia…?” Malleus could barely make out his words.

“Come here, Malleus,” Lilia said, patting his lap.

Without waiting another second, Malleus abandoned his book and crawled onto Lilia’s lap. He pressed himself against Lilia’s chest. Lilia responded by warmly wrapping his arms around him, holding him tight. Lilia could feel Malleus begin to tremble in his arms as he began to stroke his back.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Meanie stupid head…” Malleus mumbled.

For a few minutes, Lilia continued to hold the child in his warm embrace. Lilia stroked his back as Malleus buried his face in his shoulder. The vampire looked up toward the hung portrait of Maleficent, thinking to himself, “Even without you, I still have a duty to attend to.”

Lilia looked toward the floor and saw the book Malleus had previously been reading. It laid open, with the cover facing up. While pressing Malleus toward his body, he bent down to wrap his finger around the book’s spine and picked it up.

“Hey, Malleus.” Lilia gently tapped the child’s head.

Malleus, still gripping the fabric of Lilia’s clothes, looked up toward the book.

“You were still reading this, weren’t you?” Lilia smiled at him.

Malleus nodded.

“Why don’t you read me the rest of it?”

“But I’m almost done. You’d miss the important parts!”

“Hmm… Then, why don’t you summarize the story so far?”

Lilia placed his hands under Malleus’s arms and turned him around on his lap. He then grabbed the book and placed it in front of the child.

“Okay so… There’s this girl named Cinderella who lives with her stepmother and stepsisters and they’re really really really really mean to her and make her do all the chores around the house, but they never do anything to help out. She’s also like, really pretty and her family is really jealous, so they make her wear tattered clothes but she’s still pretty. One day there’s a letter about a ball that’s gonna be held for single ladies in the kingdom for the prince to marry. The stepmom and sisters are like really excited to go and Cinderella wants to go to but they said no, probably because she’s just too pretty and the other sisters want a chance or something. But I think they’re too mean for the prince to like anyway so they can stay home and not waste people’s time. Anyway, they go to the ball and leave Cinderella with a bunch of chores, but then! Lilia, a fairy godmother shows up! A fairy! Like what we are! It’s so cool! This fairy comes and helps her get ready to go to the ball and gets her this pretty dress and a carriage to get there. She’s so powerful but so nice! The fairy tells Cinderella the magic only lasts until midnight for some reason, and she goes to the ball. She almost gets caught by her meanie mom and sisters but manages to get away. Then a man asks to dance with her, and it’s revealed the man is the prince! I’m a prince too, right Lilia?”

Lilia had been smiling and nodding along as Malleus quickly spoke. “Yes, you are a prince, Malleus.”

“Right?” Malleus exclaimed, excitedly bouncing in Lilia’s lap.

“But while dancing the magic ran out and she had to leave but she left one of her glass slippers! Oh yeah, she has glass slippers which seem like they’d beak easily, but I guess the fairy’s magic is just that cool. Anyway, she gets back and is just happy to have a good night to be someone else. Then the kingdom sends a letter about the glass slipper and it says whoever fits it can be the next prince’s wife! So, Cinderella can be a princess! But her meanie stepmom and sisters have her locked up and that’s where I stopped…”

“Oh, that’s quite the cliffhanger!” Lilia said.

“Yeah! She’s locked up and I don’t know how she’ll get out or what’ll happen next.”

“Well, how about you read me the rest then?”

Lilia gestured to the book on Malleus’s lap.

“Okay!” the child chirped, opening the book.

He flipped through the pages for a few moments until he found the spot where he left off.

As the vile woman stepped down the stairs to the main room, she could hear Cinderella cry and bang on her door. However, her stepmother did not look back.

Cinderella screamed and yelled, but her voice fell on deaf ears. She fell to her knees by the door, her face in her hands as she wept. The woman the prince was searching was her. The one he wanted to marry was her. Cinderella finally had a chance at a different life but…fate was too cruel to her.

Cinderella’s stepmother returned to the main area of the estate, greeting the visitor with the promised glass slipper. The two stepsisters dressed in their most extravagant dresses to impress the visitor and, with hope their future fiancé. The older of the stepsisters was the first to try on the glass slipper. However, her foot was too wide to slip inside. Try as she might to force her foot in, it would not budge. Dejected, the older stepsister surrendered the slipper to her younger sister. Fortunately, her foot could fit into the slipper, but alas the heel of her foot did not touch the back of the slipper. Her feet were too small. The stepmother volunteered to try on the glass slipper next, but their visitor refused and began to get ready to leave.

As Cinderella sat on her knees crying, she heard the sound of a lock and the creak of a door. Bewildered, she looked up and saw the door to her room was no longer locked. Why, it was slightly ajar! She saw a small cloth sitting beside the door, as if someone had placed it there. She was uncertain how it found its way there, but she knew time was of the essence. Cinderella grabbed the cloth and ran out her room.

Malleus gasped. “Do you think it was the fairy?”

“It could be,” Lilia commented, stroking the child’s hair. “Let’s keep going.”

When she reached the main area, she saw the visitor standing in the doorway, about to leave.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, grabbing his attention.

The visitor saw Cinderella run toward him and glanced to the stepmother and stepdaughters.

“You told me you were the only women in this estate.”

Nonetheless, he withdrew the slipper from his bag and began to walk to the frantic Cinderella. However, as he stepped forward, the stepmother had been staring nearby and extended her foot out to trip him. The visitor was able to catch his balance, but it was at the expense of the slipper. The glass item flew from his hands and fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Malleus gasped. “No! What will she do now?”

“Oh dear,” the older sister said, using her hand to cover a smile.

“It seems we can’t have you try it on now,” commented the younger sister.

The visitor stared toward the floor in disbelief. Even if it was an accident, truly the king would have his head.

“Excuse me,” Cinderella spoke up, grabbing the visitor’s attention. “If I may, I have the other glass slipper.”

“No way!” Malleus jumped a bit on Lilia’s lap. “Lilia, she has the other slipper!”

Lilia chuckled, “So she does.”

She gestured to the cloth in her hands, and true to her word, it contained the other glass slipper! The three women and visitor were each stunned.

“How could you have the other glass slipper?” the stepmother snarled.

“Because I wore them at the ball last night when I danced with the prince,” Cinderella replied.

Cinderella removed a worn shoe from her foot and slid on the glass slipper. Of course, it was a perfect fit.

On that day, Cinderella was taken away from her miserable life as a live-in servant and was guided to the castle. When she arrived, the prince was waiting at the castle to meet her. From the horse-drawn carriage she exited, still wearing her tattered clothes. However, when the prince caught glimpse of her, a genuine smile grew on his face. He did not care if she dressed in the finest silk or if she was adorned with jewels. The prince was just happy to meet his first love again, and so offered her a warm welcome into the castle.

Shortly after, the two were wed, and Cinderella stood by her prince’s side until he was the next ruler of the kingdom. She did not know how her door opened that day, or how the slipper made its way outside her door, but in the end, she was able to live a happy life.

“Cinderella and her new king lived happily ever after…” Malleus sighed, shutting the book.

Lilia smiled, ruffling the child’s hair. “You read it so well.”

“Hey, Lilia,” Malleus began, glancing toward his guardian.

“Hmm?”

“I’m a prince too, aren’t I?”

“You are, I told you earlier. You’ll be the next king of the Valley of Thorns.”

Malleus held the book against his chest, wrapping his arms around it. “Do you think…I’ll find someone special like Cinderella?”

“Heh,” Lilia affectionately pinched Malleus’s cheek. “Do you plan on hosting a ball when you’re older to find yourself someone?”

Malleus put his hand on Lilia’s forearm, pushing it away. He looked down the toward the book in his hands, drumming his fingers as he thought. “Hmm… But the prince wasn’t expecting to meet Cinderella like that though. It wouldn’t be as special if I tried the same thing.”  

“You think so?” his guardian replied, playfully poking at the tip of the child’s horns.

“Stop it!” Malleus waved his arms. “My horns are pretty sharp you know!”

“Oh, I know. Took a good 10 minutes to get your horns out of that dead tree a while back ago.”

Malleus puffed his cheeks into a pout. “You’re just jealous I have horns.”

“Heheh, sure.”

Malleus sighed. “I think the prince was cool though. Cinderella worked to hard and had such a tough life, and the prince was able to take her away from it to live a better life.”

“I’m glad I taught you humility,” Lilia smiled. The vampire rested his cheek on his fist as it leaned against the arm of the chair. A blissful look of affection was in his eyes as he gazed toward Malleus.

“Isn’t that moisture in the air or something?”

“Hu-mil-i-ty. Not humidity.”

“…Like what humans are?”

Lilia grabbed the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb, shutting his eyes. “I think we should return to your studies soon, Malleus.”

Malleus gasped and smiled. “Yay! Lilia’s teaching me more new stuff!”

 To be continued…

[baejax-the-great]

For DADWC (round 2!!!): "Dust floating in golden sunlight" for a person/pairing of your choice

Bethany x Alistair, post-here lies the abyss and angsty, because that’s what’s on my mind! @dadrunkwriting

~

Bethany lingered in their bedroom. She had meant to be in and out—grab the small portrait she’d painted three years ago then shut the door forever—but now she found herself cataloging the place.

She hadn’t made the bed after she slept in it last. It remained wrinkled and untouched, one pillow on the floor where she’d fallen. One drawer stood open in their bureau, Alistair’s shirts slowly gathering a layer of dust that floated down in the sliver of sunlight from the half-closed curtains.

No matter. He didn’t need them now. Nor did he need the runestones on his desk, nor the statuettes that sat on their mantle. It was all just as he left it, months ago, and it would remain just as he left it for months longer. Duncan’s shield over the fireplace, Bethany’s drawings plastered over his side of the bed. His slippers in the corner. The half-read book on his nightstand, page marked with a folded-up letter from Zevran.

It would all gather dust, and after that, Bethany didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She carefully tucked the portrait into her pack, and on impulse swiped a runestone off his desk, the one he’d found on that first trip to Orzammar together, when all Bethany could do was look up, up at the vaulted ceilings and the Diamon quarter hanging over them, and Alistair had grabbed her hand to pull her back to the market stall and show her the stone, red and smooth around the carvings, asked her if it was any good, grinning ear to ear when she assented. She shoved that in her pack, too. Then she strode out of what had once been their room and closed the door.

Whether she found him in the Fade or found only his corpse, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be coming back here.

[kvella]

Port in the Storm - Prologue  (Josephine x Cullen)

A mead fueled tryst brings the Inquisition’s Ambassador and Commander together one night, but responsibility and miscommunication keeps them apart. When they’re assigned to build a memorial for Haven, will they find their way through the chaos or say turn away from each other forever? 

Read on ao3

Prologue

Josephine and Cullen call a stalemate and have a mead-fueled encounter.

To find the Ambassador and the Commander at the Haven tavern was unusual, if not unheard of.

On this particular evening, the advisors had an unexpectedly light workload on their hands, the Herald being off in the Hinterlands to track down a potential Warden ally. Setting aside that they were what Josephine graciously liked to call “very different people” on a good day, she and Cullen had spent the better part of the afternoon bickering over the weathered maps of the war table. As the first dinner bell rang, Leliana excused herself, tired of the stubbornness and sniping and impatient to return to her work.

Embracing the rare opportunity for a free night, they declared a stalemate on the appropriate way to acquire resources  - “just for the evening,” she jested - and found themselves taking in the ambiance of the local pub. It must have been something about the candle light or the dulcet melody of the flute, but as the sky fell dark, their words grew unmistakably flirtatious . One glass led to another, led to one glass of sweet honeyed mead too many and a surprisingly handsy, stumbling stroll back to the Chantry.

It’s hard to say who initiated, who pulled whom behind the Chargers’ tent but suddenly they were intertwined with arms around necks and hips, mouths dancing across each other’s cheeks and lips and chins. They parted, chuckling at the absurdity of the moment and the warmth of the mead bright and high in their cheeks and the crisp, snowy air nipping at their skin.

Pulling open the heavy Chantry door, Cullen grabbed Josephine’s hand boldly, but the gentleness with which he whispered “Is this okay?” melted her heart. Breathlessly, she whispered “yes” and he led her down the hall, a half-step ahead of her. Both were exhilarated by the openness with which they cavorted, regardless of the scarcity of people around at this time of night. They practically scampered down the hall to the bedroom in the far back, a strange youthful giddiness between them, so unlike either’s usual demeanor.

Cullen went first, opening the door to the room and heading inside. As she stepped in, Josephine caught a glance of Vivienne’s narrowed eye down the hall, felt the distinctive sense of judgement dripping from her eyes, high, mighty, and filing this sight away for her personal chess game. Deciding to ignore the opinions of others for once in her life, she raised her chin defiantly and followed him inside. No one else was around the Chantry at the late hour, and their good spirits and libidinous energy bounced off the stone walls.

She scanned the sparse room quickly, though she knew they were alone. To the left, Cassandra’s bed lay untouched. The Seeker had been away for weeks. A rather large tome sat on the table next to a candle that was burnt so low it may never light again. In the back, Josephine’s lived-in bed - made, but not fussily so, not when there are so many more important things to do than have a crisply folded sheet. Her lute sat dusty near her nightstand, an admittedly frivolous item to bring to a war, despite best intentions of putting her past as a bard towards morale and raised spirits. And on the right, Cullen’s bed, a Templar bed if she’d ever seen one. Regulation corners and all.

Cullen pulled her to him by the waist, kissed her hard, seemed to find a renewed sense of purpose in the privacy of their room. The fur of his mantle tickled against her neck. “Do you know,” he asked between fervent kisses, “I have thought about this every day since you moved into this room?”

A good, pious Chantry boy thinking about kissing her with all the passion of a sinner under this holy roof, every damn day. The thought made her knees weak. She moaned lightly against his lips. Filled with confidence, she walked him back against his bed, toppling him down atop the tautly pulled linens.

Desire rested deep in her belly, a sensation she hadn’t entertained for anyone in years. He fiddled with the satin buttons at her throat, jangling her heavy necklace back and forth against her collarbones. She leaned back, trying to give him space to work, fingers making waves through his carefully combed hair. Satisfied with the amount of flesh he’d exposed, he rose to her neck - the feeling of his smooth lips and stubble brushing against her throat was divine and she closed her eyes to savor it. Quickly, a brief flash in the theater of her mind: Vivienne and her haughty sideways glance. The Herald and Cassandra recruiting forces off in the Hinterlands. The bright emerald gashes tearing apart the sky.

A pang of panic struck her heart. Lifting her bejeweled hands to gently cup his face, she kissed him deeply, slowly. His stubble was rough against the pads of her fingers. She wanted to go further, wanted to be closer and closer, truly couldn’t believe she was about to say this until she felt the unfortunate words tumble out of her mouth like marbles.

“We should stop.”

He ceased instantly, removed his hands from her as if commanded by the Maker himself. “Okay.” His amber eyes were smoky, lips swollen and pink and thoroughly kissed. He was so beautiful that, for a brief moment, she reconsidered. "Why?" He asked, regaining composure.

She crawled off of him, settled on her knees at the foot of his bed. A cloud of disappointment floating around her hung head. He propped himself up on his elbows, catching his breath, and let his head roll back in thought, probably some frustration. She couldn’t fault him for that - her body ached for him, but her mind knew how these things tend to go. The mead was in her cheeks, hot and hazy, and his hands had mussed soft wisps of hair around her face, a golden halo illuminated by the fire.

Softly, carefully, she said, “It is not that I do not want this. In fact, I have thought of it...quite often. But…” She paused, dropped her voice to a whisper as if she was not certain that what she was about to say was a good choice. “I do not want just one night. And to become entangled right now with so much at stake...it is a fool’s errand, is it not?”

He sat up, eyes shut tight and brow furrowed in deliberation. She tried not to look at him, hope churning in her gut that he’d quell her fears or try to convince her otherwise or at least tell her he felt the same. Instead he responded, “You are right.”

It was quiet for a moment, only the crackling of the fire and the tension of disappointment to sooth them as they contemplated the many boundaries they had crossed together. Josephine felt a fire stirring in her veins. This man who rarely backs down, let alone to her, had simply caved to her concern without a single protestation.

She couldn’t help herself, and picked the fight anyway. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? When do you ever agree with me?” It came out sharper than intended, but she didn’t try to soften it with more words.

Abruptly, Cullen stood, walked over to the small table near the fireplace. The sound of water pouring into glasses was nearly ear-splitting in the silence of their choice.  “I don’t know how I am meant to share a bedroom with you when I know what you feel like against me, Josie,” he said remorsefully, offering her the glass. Eyes wide, she took it with bated breath. ”But I know that you’re right - were we to continue, I am certain I would have no choice but to stay entangled.”

He leaned back against the fireplace, casually, and sipped the water. She stared at him, a mad kind of anticipation in her eyes. The words hit her ears, white hot. They sounded to her like something of a promise.

________________________________________________________________

I’ve been working on this story since July this year and it’s been so fun! I know this is not the most popular couple (join me in rarepair hell), but I have a soft spot for the Ambassador/General opposites attract dynamic. This story is up to chapter 8 on ao3, but figured I’d post it on here too! I’ve been a Bioware/DA fan since the beginning, but I’m new to tumblr (how did I make it to 27 without having a tumblr??) and want to make friends lol  Hope you enjoy! :)