#because I liked it better for where Ellana is at only year before the game starts

[buttsonthebeach]

Anywhere But Home

Back to writing Solavellan angst and it feels so goooood

Pairing: Ellana Lavellan x Solas (past); Marian Hawke x Merrill (past)

Rating: M for Mature - sexual themes and images

Triggers and Spoilers: Hawke is lost in the Fade; spoilers for Tevinter Nights

Summary: Nine years post-Trespasser, Ellana tries her best to move on.

His name was Varlan and Ellana hadn't seen him since the summer before she became Inquisitor, and when she slept with him, what she was really doing was slipping into an old self to see if it still fit, like the person she had been that summer was an old pair of trousers in the back of a drawer. She'd just forgotten about her. She could try her on again.

He wasn't an Inquisition agent - because of course she couldn't even dream of sleeping with any of them. And he wasn't some hero worshipper fascinated with the myth of her - because every one of them that had approached her since she became Inquisitor made her skin crawl. He wasn't a nobleman whose aims and ends she couldn't trust.

He was just Varlan of Clan Alvar, and they happened to be at the same inn, each passing through on their way to somewhere else. Her to Kirkwall. Him back to his clan.

“Ellana?”

And it was probably the fact that he said her name. It startled her at first - she was tying up her horse at the hitching post and he was just passing by, her hood was still mostly up, she was traveling alone, she was so used to being called Inquisitor or my lady. But then she saw him, recognized him, and it felt good. Just Ellana.

Clan Lavellan and Clan Alvar were close, both Marcher clans that overlapped in their roaming a few times each year, making him one of those people she couldn't actually remember meeting for the first time. He'd just been there. They'd slept together twice before, the last time being that summer before she left for the Conclave, twelve years ago now. So she could know, after passing a flask of whiskey back once or twice while reminiscing about old times in the room she let, that he really wanted to sleep with her for old time's sake and nothing more. She didn't take him up there with that intention - not really - but when it happened, she wasn't sorry.

Dorian had been after her about it anyway. Leliana, too. Gentle at first as the years went on and then more direct, he can't have been that good of a lay morphing into it's been 5 years and you deserve happiness, you know. Ellana, don't you think it's time to…? Maybe this would appease them.

And the first kiss did take her breath away. Not because she was in love with Varlan but because it had been nine years now since someone kissed her. His skin on her skin was exhilarating and too much - she kept her shirt on the whole time, and so did he. And gods it did feel good, it did, the weight of him -

“I'm clean,” he murmured. “If you wanted to…?”

“Me too,” she said, and it hurt even though it shouldn't. She knew she was clean because it had been eleven years since she lay with anyone. “I do.”

“Do you take a brew or should I…?”

That question hurt the worst somehow. She had just turned 39. And there was a part of her that wanted to lie, to not take her brew after he left (because he would leave), because she was getting older, and maybe this was her last chance -

“I do, but maybe to be extra safe…?”

“Of course.”

And gods it was good to feel him move in her, it was familiar, the roll of her hips and the delicious tension in her muscles and yes, it was her first time doing this since the loss of her left arm, but she could almost ignore that. Could almost pretend it was summer, an open field, stars above, and she was just herself. She'd go back to the circle of aravels after this. Restring her bow. Breathe in the woodsmoke. Hunt in the morning.

“I'm glad the gods brought us back together,” he said before he left. “And that they have kept you safe.”

She was sure he didn't intend the words to be cruel. But Halamshiral’s hallways echoed in her mind all the time now, and instantly she analyzed it. He did not ask about the vallaslin. She considered it a blessing. Perhaps he knew? Word had spread through the clans. But he still believed in the gods, still thought they kept her safe. So he knew and still believed?

Why was he conveniently at the same inn as her, at the same time, why had the conversation gone so easily, why had they slipped so easily into old familiar ways?

She banished the thoughts. It was fine. This was fine. She had moved on. She could move on. She carried on to Kirkwall, got settled in to her estate, had dinner with Merrill. Tried to stay in the same skin she'd found briefly with Varlan. Back to Ellana, just Ellana.

“About time!” Dorian said when she called. “Now, perhaps Mae and I can start finding someone eligible for you here in Tevinter. Make me a list and you know we'll make it so. I already have a house picked out for you in the countryside near my villa.”

His words were so bright and so brittle they might snap if he forced himself to be any cheerier. Ellana let out a dry laugh, tried to come up with a witty reply, and found her throat closed. What did she want?

“So I can't just move in alone? Varric gave me a whole house and a key to his city without insisting I have a partner.”

The crystal crackled. She thought maybe she heard a sigh.

“Of course not. Shall I send you the contract? Right after I get this bill passed about elves being able to own property of course.”

“Ah yes, that pesky little thing. Tell me how that's been going.”

“Oh, my friend,” Merrill said that night when Ellana recounted the conversation. How she had not even been able to make a list of what she might want in a future partner. “I don't think I could, either.”

Because Merrill had spent the last eleven years waiting and longing, too.

But Ellana kept trying. What would she want? She looked around Merrill’s table whenever there was a group for dinner. Most of her friends were elves from Kirkwall's alienage. Ellana had always envisioned herself with a fellow elf - but that was when she was young and living with her clan, so of course she assumed she'd bond to someone Dalish. Did that have to be true now? She'd always been with men. Did that have to be true now?

She tried to feel a sense of wonder and possibility. She was arguably the most privileged elf in Thedas, with money, power, and connections in every country. She could envision whatever life she wanted for herself.

The sense of wonder never came.

But Charter did. Back from a teahouse in Hunter Fell, after months of searching and gathering information and coordinating a meeting between spies of every conceivable faction.

“I have news of the idol,” she said. “If you wanted to go get Mistress Hawke.”

She and Merrill both perched, tense, through Charter's tale. It confirmed much of what they had suspected. It was back in the Dread Wolf's hands. That was how Charter referred to him the whole time. Merrill interjected occasionally and called him Fen'Harel. Ellana pretended it was all a story.

“One figure comforting another,” Merrill murmured. “Mythal comforting Fen'Harel himself, if his tales of being her right hand are to be believed? I am more certain now than ever that it was a tool of Arlathan that was blighted, like my eluvian. Perhaps related like the arulin'holm, something used in rituals of creation, lyrium stored directly within to power the spells? One of the implements he used to create the Veil? I never laid hands on it myself. I didn't go into the Deep Roads with Marian, and the fight with Meredith - it was not my focus. I wish I'd had time to see it, study it…”

“That window has certainly closed,” Charter said, shifting her weight, settling into a stance, like she was expecting a blow. “Solas assured me of that.”

Ellana stood.

“He what?”

And then Charter told the end of the tale. The moment she realized the Orlesian bard was not Orlesian at all. How only she and Solas walked out of that room.

The untouched tea.

Her mind circled that detail over and over again until she could smell the fresh plaster in the rotunda, hear the caws of Leliana's ravens, feel the warmth of a hand on her back -

“So he still doesn't like tea?” She finally managed, when she realized Merrill and Charter were staring.

“No, my lady,” Charter said, lowering her eyes.

Ellana hated Charter suddenly. She'd been in the room with Solas. Close enough to touch. She'd heard his voice. Did he look well? Did he look tired? Did he -

“And - Inquisitor, he told me to tell you - that he is sorry.”

It was meant to be a mercy but it felt like a deathblow. Like bleeding out, lungs collapsing, praying there was a healer nearby, eyesight fading.

“Thank you, Charter. That will be all for tonight.”

He is sorry?

“Lethallan,” Merrill said, and let the word hang in the air.

“It’s fine, Merill. You should go.”

“Lethallan.”

He is sorry?

She couldn't talk about this with Merrill. Couldn't ask the woman whose wife she’d left to die to comfort her because the man who willingly left her had sent her a message via a spy, and it was that he was sorry, but he was still going to rip the world asunder.

“Tomorrow. Let's hike to the summit of Sundermount.” The words came from someone else who happened to have Ellana's own voice.

Merrill left. Ellana sat down. She took a breath, then another. She closed her eyes.

He is sorry.

And suddenly, he was in the room with her: Solas Solas Solas Solas. So close she could touch him. She could see him, the sadness in his eyes, hear the hitch in his quiet voice.

Tell the Inquisitor - I am sorry.

Varlan had been on top of her, in her, fingers in her hair, and he was not as real to her then as that image of Solas was now. As she sat there, choking on the unfairness of his words.

He was sorry, but he was still gone. And she was never going to be the same again without him. All the Varlans in the world couldn't change that. All it would take was one word, one dream, to bring her back to the way he looked at her, the way he shook his head, kissed her again. To come, while the music plays, dance with me.

Ellana went to bed and allowed herself to imagine that Solas was down the hall, painting. That she had called for him already, sleepily, that he said he'd be there in a moment. That right when she was on the edge of sleep, he slid into bed, threaded an arm around her waist, and kissed her. He would be warm, solid, large behind her, but he would melt into her too, lean his weight against her - each of them leaning on each other, sheltering each other. And as she imagined it, she felt it - wonder. Bright as midday sun.

She woke alone, flecks of red in her smalls warning her that soon another chance would be gone (even though Varlan had pulled out and she had taken her brew because she knew, knew she couldn't be a mother now, not now, not without him). She went downstairs, saw the letters that had arrived overnight, all addressed to the Herald and the Inquisitor. The final reminder that, Solas or no, there was no way back to that summer field twelve years ago. The world had destroyed Ellana Lavellan and raised up something else instead. Harding said it in the Frostback Basin. Once you are more than a person to someone, you're also less than a person to them. So there was only forward. Deep breath in, out again. Just keep going.

Merrill was already at her door, bags packed, ready for the long day. Smiling even though her eyes were sad. The path up Sundermount felt longer, Ellana's footsteps heavier than usual. She could go anywhere she wanted but home, could have her choice of lovers but not the man she loved. Everyone knew her name but she hardly knew herself anymore, some days.

But then they were at the summit, looking out over Kirkwall and the sea, and if her footsteps didn't feel any lighter, she at least felt equal to their weight again.

“Varric will want to know about the idol,” Merrill said at last.

“Yes. I'll go see him tomorrow. I think he'll be even more involved now that we know for sure Solas has it. It will be even more personal.”

“You are his friend. It has been personal from the beginning.”

Ellana sighed. There were ships out on the sea. What if Solas was on one of them?

“I wish it was only about duty. Only about serving Thedas. For all of us.”

“Would you really wish that you had never met Solas? Never loved him?”

I felt the world change.

“No.”

“It's a good thing he is sorry. That means there is hope.”

A bitter laugh rose in Ellana's throat but she swallowed it down. Hope was a meager thing to live on, year in and year out. But Merrill knew that better than anyone.

“Yes. There is hope.”

They sat up there, breathing hope in and out together, and then they carried it back with them to Kirkwall.

[rosie-janeposie]

Quaffles, Bludgers, and Quarrels Part 1

 Quaffles, Bludgers, and Quarrels    

alleychaton

Can also be found below: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25485595/chapters/61822492

Summary:            

“It’s a long shot kid…” The tall brute tossed his bat over his shoulder before he started to walk away. “My suggestion, prove you can do more than simply swing a bat…” He gave a half-ass wave,"Best of luck, little girl!"

Ellie felt her eye twitched, honestly her name isn't that hard to remember.

When she was through with tryouts she would make sure people remembered her name. Hogwarts would know the name, Ellana Bennett, for more then detentions and curse-breaking.

Notes:    

Hello my Lovelies! I was finally able to sneak some writing in...

Ellie is back! Back in her second year of Hogwarts, and she is ready to play some Quidditch! I know the new timed-event with Rath was just added to the game. However, I may tweaked with some characters just for plot purposes.

Don't get me wrong I like Rath, (so no Rath bashing please!) But, she may have a slightly different role in Ellie journey. Plus, where there is Ellie there is Murphy, Rowan, and Skye. :-P

But let's not too wrapped up in the side details.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hogwarts Mystery Characters

I do, however, own Ellie (Ellana) Bennett.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

  Chapter 1: Oh Bludger!     

                                                        XxX

 "What the bloody hell were Flitwick and Demerres thinking…" A rough voice muttered, flipping around in his right hand a Beater's bat.

 Unbeknownst to him, a small redhead and her blond companion were making their way, arguing in hushed tones, to his spot in the field. Ellie's eyes widened at the unfriendly appearance of the Ravenclaw boy in front of her. Ellie eyed the older dark-haired boy; he was undoubtedly muscular compared to the boys in her year. This boy standing in the middle of the Quidditch field, appeared to be anything but friendly, "McNully, are you sure about this?" Ellie whispered.

 The blond smirked, looking up at the girl, "What, you don't trust me?"

 "McNully, let's review. My only experience with you is that you like to throw playbooks onto people and play wizard's chess." Ellie quirked an eyebrow at the older boy, "I am reserving judgment on whether I should trust you."

 McNully rolled his eyes before pushing ahead of the younger Ravenclaw, "Then you should note that 87.1% of the time, you should trust me."

 "And the rest?" Ellie asked as her curiosity peaked.

 McNully stopped as he used his hand to direct her towards the only other person on the field. "If you wish to be Ravenclaw's next Beater, Arthur Williams, will be able to provide you with a little more insight. He may look like a brute, but he does have some wisdom under all that gruff."

 "Charming…" Ellie took a step forward, before whipping around. She was stopped by the serious look on McNully's usually cheerful face, "But…how about?"

 "Don't worry about it." The blond started as he crossed his arms, "Go!"

 "Evil…" the redhead muttered, glaring at the Quidditch commentator. She took a deep breath, turning to walk towards this apparently agitated male.

  "Amari showed a little promise last year…" The dark-haired male mumbled as he paced back and forth on his segment of the field. "Travers was a better option. Hell! Demerres should have made Flanigan Captain before that sniveling third year…" Ellie watched the bat; he was wearily swinging around in his hand.

 "Excuse me…" Ellie stated politely, adjusting her glasses on her nose.

 "Honestly, the kid has his head in the clouds…"

 "I'm sorry to interrupt your rant."

 "But, now we have little Miss Parkin throwing a tizzy. These kids need to be knocked down a peg or two..."

 "HELLO!"

 "What?" The dark-haired boy turned to stare at the girl looking cautiously at him. "Oi, you're that little second-year Bennett, right?"

 Ellie looked back at him with surprise; he knew who she was, "Ah yeah, that's right?"

 "I remember, your brother, a bit of a loud-mouth always cost Ravenclaw points while he searched for the school's urban legend…" Williams started as he looked at her thoroughly, "Davies mentioned you went wandering in the corridor. Rather stupid if you ask me."

 Ellie huffed. She could feel her ears starting to match her hair, "Well, no asked you, did they?"

 "I'm just telling you the rumors that are circulating." This boy had a lot of nerve. Though, she probably would not have any chance if she ripped him a new one. At least not before asking for his help.  She was supposed to play nice right now as per orders of McNully.

 "Okay, thanks!" Ellie stated as she tilted her head, "Yes, thank you for reminding me that my adventures here are public knowledge."

 Williams raised an eyebrow, "You asked… Besides, why are you here, anyway? Don't you need to be gallivanting around or something? I don't think there is a vault of the quidditch pitch."

 "I only hunt for vaults when the stars align, so it is a little boring at the moment," Ellie noted through her teeth. She wasn't even sure that she had found a vault. She simply found runes scratched into the wall. Seriously, though, who is this prick? "Anyway, I have a question for you."

 "Am I all this amazing, all the time? Yes," Williams noted the glare that the young Ravenclaw was determined to direct his way. Williams sighed, He straightened his back, and Ellie noted how big he was compared to her. It was honestly, his height indeed was intimating, "Alright, what is it?"

 Ellie pushed her glasses further up her nose to look at the older male, "I am interested in playing for Ravenclaw, Beater specifically…"

 "You are a little…" He narrowed his eyes, scanning the girl's frame, "small."

 "Rude!"

 His hands quickly came up in defense; he waved them frantically, "Oi, Oi, Oi. I didn' mean it like that...Just…" He paused with one hand up, "Beaters typically are bulkier… You are built more like a Chaser if anything."

 "Just because it is the stereotype doesn't mean it is the only type." Ellie jumped as an Irish accent interjected, McNully rolled into sight of the two, "      Little Miss Curse-breaker    , has potential. This whole idea that Beaters need to be strictly muscle. There is a 57.9% chance that Curse-breaker is the change the team needs."

 Ellie felt her eye twitched; honestly, her name isn't that hard to remember, everyone… Everyone! Seemed to avoid using her name. Curse-breaker, troublemaker, Little Bennett, or Jacob's sister. It pissed her off.

 "Curse-breaker has a name," Ellie hissed, "It is Bennett for those who have forgotten. And, Bennett can speak for herself as well." McNully leaned away from her, his eyes slightly fuller.

 Williams rolled his eyes, "It's a long shot kid…" Williams tossed his bat over his shoulder before he started to walk away from the pair. "My suggestion, prove you can do more than simply swing a bat…" Williams turned to see the redhead glaring furiously at him, "I'm sure McNully has some ideas…"

 "Great brute."

 Williams paused before he turned back to the pair, "Fruit, huh?" He questioned, Ellie, saw a brief smirked cross his face.

 Ellie's eyes widened as she shook her hands, "That is not what I said..." Ellie muttered the next phrase, "Deaf Brute…"

 "Well, then, this Brute will be watching… Maybe you can change his mind." Ellie watched as he mockingly bowed to her, "But, my point still stands." The tall boy gave a lazy wave as he slowly walked towards the changing room. Ellie wanted to take her shoe off and chuck it at the obnoxious boy walking away. "Best of luck, little girl!"

 "Settle down Bennett," She paused at the tugging at the back of her green hoodie. McNully was holding her back as best as he could.

 Ellie glared before she whipped her head towards the Quidditch Commentator, "What was it you said? Oh yes! 'You should trust me' and 'He may look like a brute but, he does have some wisdom under all that gruff.'"

 The blond crossed his arms and gave her a look back, "So we hit a snag." He shrugged as he directed her out of the arena, "He didn't say no exactly."

 "He didn't exactly say yes, either…" Ellie huffed.

 "Look," McNully pinched the bridge of his nose, "He will come around. Once he sees what you can do already. Give it time."

 "But time is not on my side McNully…"

 McNully looked up at the redhead to see her anxiously chewing on her nails. She was looking everywhere, "I know you have been training with Skye. She is training you to be a Chaser. We just need you to work on thinking like a true Beater." He rolled closer to the girl. His hand gently touched her forearm, "and despite what everyone says, the Quidditch teams are not permanent. If you don't make the team, it gives you another year to train."

 McNully watched her face morph as he discussed the possibilities, "You don't need to be perfect, Curse-Breaker…" He backed away from Ellie, watching her reaction.

 "Ellie…" she whispered.

 "Pardon?"

 "Please just call me, Ellie or Bennett." She stated, she let her hair fall in her face, "People seem to be forgetting that I have an actual name. So, I would prefer it if you would use my name."

 McNully gave her his usual smile, "Well then Bennett. You don't need to be perfect." He rolled ahead of her as they went to the Commentator's box, "We just need to do a little reconnaissance." He made a motion for her to follow. "There is a 79.4% chance you will learn something by watching tonight's practice."

 "Alright…" Ellie briefly jogged to catch up with the blond.

 McNully reached out and gently punched her arm, "And I will sign you up for tonight's friendly." She raised her eyebrow at him, she stopped to open her mouth. She paused when McNully raised a finger, "You need flying time too."

 "Thanks, coach…" she muttered, rolling her eyes. McNully smiled at the playfulness back into her face.

 "I am 97.3% sure that was sarcasm but, I'll take it."

 xXx

                                   Notes:  

Alright, my lovelies!

Please leave a Kudos and/or comment down below!

See y'all next time

~Rosie

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [128]

(201):  Thank god you don't know my other address I'm safe for now (862):  Awww you know you would like it if I found u - (307):  Did u find my other sock in your bra? U said u were uneven so I did the gentlemanly thing. -

“Your friends are terrifying. Is it because you ended a Blight together? Does ending a Blight make you…like that? Is it because you’re of that particular area and, well, era?” Max asks as Leliana smiles at her phone.

“Max. We’re basically the same age,” she points out. “Give or take a few years.”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever alluded to having a physical age. Careful, Leliana. Next you’ll be accidentally letting people know that you have a blood type, which means you’ve got blood. Which means you’ve got some sort of biological functions going on which may eventually lead to someone concluding that you are not, in fact, immortal and omnipotent.

”I am not omnipotent, Maxwell. Omniscient though? I do thoroughly enjoy those rumors.”

“Next will be omnipresent at which point you’ll be verging on apotheosis and possibly lighting off some sort of heretical religion of your very own,” Max rests his cheek on his fist as he swipes through documents on his tablet. “Are you absolutely sure that this meeting is going on half an hour? No one else is here and no one else accepted the meeting invite.”

“They’ll come because I said they would.”

“Omnipotence.”

“Leverage.”

“I don’t hear a difference, Leliana, I really don’t. Now why are you terrorizing Zevran? Don’t answer with the word foreplay.”

Leliana rolls her eyes. “I’m not terrorizing him. I’m teasing him. Besides. Me not knowing some of his addresses is an interesting fact he’s let slip. I need to up my game.”

“Maybe he wants privacy.”

“Maybe he should have gotten different friends,” Leliana retorts. “It’s like a little game. No harm — no permanent harm done. And no hard feelings. And if Zevran really didn’t want me to get into his business he would say something or let me have some kind of a hint. I’m not invasive without cause. I respect certain private boundaries when they aren’t pertinent to my work.”

“That’s good to know.” Max drums his fingers on the conference table as he scans through an email Herah sent him with some reference files he’d been looking for. “Out of morbid curiosity why are you hunting Zevran down? Recreational purposes? Or official business?”

“I can’t keep track my friends for the sheer pleasure of it?” Leliana quirks an eyebrow at Max.

“Well. No offense, Leliana. But it’s you.”

“Fair enough. Recreational. I was planning a surprise party for Alistair’s birthday.”

“You’re throwing a surprise birthday party for the King of Ferelden.”

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t that be somewhat difficult, what with — well. You know. His constant security detail? His numerous appointments? The fact that he’s the King of Ferelden?”

“Max. It’s me. I can throw a surprise party for whoever I want and I will damn make sure they’re surprised and there for it.”

- “Your boyfriend isn’t a gentleman,” Mahanon says, handing Ellana the sock he’d found when going through the shed remnants of his disguise. “Also when did he find time to slip a sock into my bra?”

“The Iron Bull is definitely a gentleman, and he snuck it in when you were checking to see if you had any better padding,” Ellana replies. “He was just going around with one sock for the rest of the operation. You should thank him.”

“His assistance was unsolicited.”

“His sock stopped you from looking like a botched plastic surgery job,” Ellana says gently. “Was it an Inquisition disguise? I don’t see you doing that kind of shoddy prep work for an undercover case.”

“Of course it was an Inquisition disguise,” Mahon replies. “Did you see the wig they gave me to use? How fortunate for me that the lighting inside the building was extra dim. I’m not sure if the lighting was for ambiance or if they wanted to make it harder to spot forgeries. Either way, I got plenty of evidence.”

“Shame I couldn’t see your disguise before you went off,” Ellana sighs. “Sorry. I should’ve been the one to go. Switching me out for you at the last minute most likely did not help things in the gathering of supplies for the last minute disguise part. But you know how it is.”

“How’s the fever?” Mahanon asks, fishing around in his bag and pulling out the sports drinks he picked on the way. He shakes it at her like a peace offering.  “Move, I had it first so I’m most likely immune.”

“It broke last night but I’m still feeling woozy,” Ellana says, standing aside for Mahanon to enter, taking one the blue sports drink from his hand and cracking it open. “The mission update I sent you — was it coherent? I didn’t have time to read it over and I’m pretty sure I kept falling asleep while writing it and forgetting where I was when I woke up.”

“I got the gist of it,” Mahanon says, opening her fridge to empty out his bag. A few more sports drinks, some jello and pudding cups, and a small bag of oranges. “Whatever didn’t make sense I asked Leliana for background on. There were some…hiccups while I was in the op but I was able to improvise. Again. The dim lighting and excellent use of make up made it easier to explain away some of the differences between your appearance as renowned art collector Juno Violenta, and my appearance as Juno Violenta. Who came up with that name, anyway? Wait.” Mahanon pauses as he’s pulling some eggs out of the refrigerator. “Was it de Fer?”

“Of course it was Vivienne,” Ellana says, already standing by the stove and watching water boil. “Who else knows things about art collectors? You know, Mahanon, if you wanted, you could come back. You don’t have to keep staying in the Inquisition barracks. I don’t think I’m so bad anymore.”

“I’ll give another day or two,” Mahanon says. “Bad enough you’re down. If both of us are down again then who else are they going to bring in to keep up the charade? Sera? With her nose? And the alignment of her teeth? The fact that she’s several years younger than us and also about two inches shorter? There’s only so much make up and the talents of the Inquisition’s disguise team can do. Not even dim lighting can lower those flags.”

[blarfkey]

for any of your works rn: 💎, 🔬, 🎢, 🎵? thank you!!!

🎢, 🔬 Thank YOU! I love getting these!

💎 Favorite part

DF – This story is so so long so it’s hard to pick a favorite part! I really loved introducing all the characters, but especially Iron Bull, Ellana’s first class with Dorian, and Varric. I loved the Assassin Game, I loved the star gazing with Solas and the banter they had as they hiked through the woods at night. But I really loved finally FINALLY getting to the confession scene, which I had been excited about for three years.

Thick as Thieves – I loved all of Halamshiral. I had written pieces of it many, many months in advanced but the truth or dare game and the learning how to waltz in the fade and Solas having that realization that he loves her and being too drunk to freak out about it was so much fun.

Code Ren – I really loved the first couple of meetings between Rey and Ben while she’s fixing his mess on the ship. It has the sort of casual camaraderie that I don’t think Ben has ever experienced in his life and I can only imagine how much it floors him to be spoken to in such a way.

More under the cut!

Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right?

🔬 DF – The introduction to Solas which took like two years in-universe time and well over one year in real time, haha. I mean, he’s the romantic lead! Their first encounter sets the tone for everything. Not to mention that there are all these things going on in the background between them that Ellana doesn’t even know about, so I had to get Solas’s reactions to her to fit the idea that he’s known her much longer than she’s known him and also she’s pissed him off but he can’t admit to it or explain why. And that she’s much more magnetic in person than in her emails and this proves a problem for him.

Because Solas never planned or expected to actually fall in love with the person he was helping. He just wanted to help someone. And then he sees her and he’s like – oh shit. She’s hot. She’s hot and funny and passionate and it’s all coming through so much more strongly in person than in email and he’s in trouble.

That was a very hard summer for Solas.

Thick as Thieves – The fight with Shay about the balcony scene confession. It always bothered me that in the game the player can only be neutral or positive to Solas’s extremely racist backhanded compliments about how special they are. You can never call him out on it. So definitely wanted Shay to call him out on it and it become their biggest fall-out to date.

This is the turning point for Solas and his love her Shay – because she’s a dwarf and so different than what he’s used to, he has to be able to overcome his biased, prejudiced ideas of what a dwarf should be like before he can allow himself to love her romantically. And it’s also needed for Solas to be a viable romantic partner period. I wouldn’t want to date anyone who thinks I’m an exception to my race or gender or sexuality or what have you. Its’ not fair to the player that they have to romance Solas while he has this mindset and I wasn’t having it with Shay.

Code Ren – The reunion between them on Takodana. The fic is short compared to my others, but they parted on such bad terms that I needed Rey to be able to work with him and understand him the way she used to when she didn’t know the truth of his identity. And if they didn’t meet up again in just the right way with just the right about of Rey giving him hell for what he did and then trying to understand him and reach out to him, then it wouldn’t be believable.

There’s a sweet spot to be met between a character getting forgiven too easily and a character being stubbornly unforgiving in the face of genuine repentance, especially when they are meant to be together.

🎢, Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

DF – Obviously the confession and the first kiss. I mean, this is a slow burn of epic proportions and there have been readers that have been in it since the beginning so that means three years of building up expectations and that was kind of freaking me out that it would prove disappointing and unsatisfying. I’m much better writing platonic relationships and romantic build up so much more than the actual romance. And I’m still nervous about future chapters because despite circumstances, Solas and Ellana clearly will never be just friends again and that’s my comfort zone.

Thick as Thieves – I was a little nervous about Solas reviving Cassandra in the last update because I had – completely unknowingly – sort of built them into a romantic friendship. And it’s probably because I ship the hell out of them, as I do also with Solas and Dorian, that it just bled through. But I also kind of decided to roll with it. Solas is still unclear about how he feels about Cassandra but it is also more than just a regular friendship between them. I didn’t know how that would go down with readers, especially since it’s not labeled a Solas/Cassandra fic and he is already with Shay at this point.

I personally don’t have any issues with polyamory as I’m not a naturally jealous or possessive person, but I know it can be uncomfortable for some.

Code Ren – I haven’t been nervous so far, but writing this story is also like wandering around the woods with just a flashlight. I have a sort of idea about where I’m going but it’s not concrete like the other stuff I write because it wasn’t supposed to go beyond them escaping the Finalizer and now its turned into a whole TFA AU fic and geez. So we’ll see.

🎵- Did you have a playlist/piece of music that went with this story?

I have a HUGE playlist for DF. Actually, I had to break it down into different playlists and I’ve debated posting them to Tumblr and linking them in the fic if anyone is interested?

But I can give the highlights –

Theme song for the Dales/Wycombe: Lake Shore Drive by Aliotta Haynes

Theme for the Skyhold Shenanigan life: Cameras by Matt and Kim

Emerald Graves Summer Theme: Mountain Sound by Of Monsters and Men

Solas POV love song: Just a Boy by Angus and Julia Stone

Solas and Ellana: I’ve Got This Friend by the Civil Wars

I also have a pretty big playlist for Thick as Thieves, here are a few of my favs:

Fell in Love With a Girl by the White Stripes

I Think She Knows – Kaki King

When the Day Met The Night – Panic at the Disco

It Will Come Back – Hozier

Never Ever – Lord Huron (a LOT of lord huron stuff fits solas)

Nothing for Code Ren just yet

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 6: Solas

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

           Solas dreamt of home. Of great palaces floating in the sky. He dreamt of grand and decadent parties that lasted for years. The sort of dances that would make a chantry mother faint. The food that would make a magister scream in envy. Solas lost himself in his own memory in this dream. It was a celebration Mythal had thrown, ostensibly to celebrate the work of an artist she admired. Solas wove through the crowd of moving bodies covered scantily in silks that seemed to have minds of their own. The music created by instruments no human had ever heard flowed through the room and tasted exciting. The music and the dancing had reached a crescendo. Solas closed his eyes and smelled the perfumes and delicacies. He could almost fool himself into thinking it was all real, and that everything that would happen after this had all been a bad dream. A nightmare. He opened his eyes however, and he could see the haze that hung over everything. The slightly blurred faces, the fabrics that couldn’t quite remember what design they were supposed to have.

           It was all a dream.

           Still, he could dream a little while longer. He could allow himself that.

           He reached the edge of crowd and wanted to weep. As blurry as everything else was, she was clear as day. Mythal stood on the balcony overlooking everything with a maternal smile on her face. He knew that she was always happy to make her children happy. She had dark hair that hung simply down to her hips and her deeply tanned face had only the slightest alteration from paints. Her red gown was simple too. The only thing she wore that suggested her status was a multitude of golden rings on her fingers and in her ears. The largest ring was her wedding band, which was made of intricately woven gold and was weighed down by more diamonds than most people could count quickly. Her husband was not in attendance tonight. They had fought recently. That happens when you’ve been together since the beginning of the world. She was the least extravagantly dressed person in attendance. But it didn’t matter. There wasn’t a person for miles around that couldn’t feel the power radiating from her.

           Solas caught her eye and her smile widened as she motioned for him to join her. As Solas walked up the steps to her small sanctuary he heard her voice as if she were standing next to him, whispering in his ear, “I need your help, I cannot do this alone.”

           Solas pulled aside the curtain at the top of steps and looked into Ellana Lavellan’s eyes.

           Solas shot awake as if someone had stabbed him. It felt like he had been wounded. He wanted to scream. He was sweating so much he wanted to throw himself into the snow outside his hut. It had been a long time since he had dreamt without being in control. He had decided he didn’t care for it. He would have to consult with Wisdom when he slept next. It would have to be tomorrow since he certainly wasn’t going back to sleep tonight. He laid back down and tried to slow his breathing. It was still dark outside, but Solas could hear the rumblings of people starting work. The sun would be rising soon. Solas rose with it.

           As Solas left his hut a few people nodded to him, but he knew no one in the camp really knew what to make of him. A free elvhen mage that didn’t seem to be frightened of humans or their Templars. Solas briefly considered acting more scared at the beginning, but ultimately couldn’t suffer the humiliation. He had spent enough of his life bowing to people who didn’t deserve to be bowed to. He walked over to a fire where some people were preparing breakfast and stopped dead in his tracks. Ellana Lavellan sat in the middle of a group huddled around the fire as she added a sprinkle of herbs to a soup she was making. Someone asked her a question and she laughed lightly before answering. Her laugh wasn’t condescending, and the woman who had asked the question smiled with her while she explained. She hadn’t tied her hair back yet, and it floated around her head and down her back like a dark cloud. She wore Dalish armor, but it wasn’t showy. The most elaborate parts of her were her vallaslin. It had been a long time since Solas had seen vallaslin that extensive. Of all of his people’s ancient traditions, why did this one have to be the one they carried down?

           “Chuckles! Come grab some food!”

           Solas shook himself out of his thoughts and turned to Varric. He sat to the left of Ellana and motioned for the others to move down so that Solas could come sit next to him. Everyone had turned to look at him now, including Ellana. She was smiling her benevolent and kind smile, and it worried Solas greatly. She did remind him of his old friend when she smiled like that. It put him on edge because he knew that kind of smile could be as dangerous a weapon as any knife. It was the kind of smile that inspired friendship and devotion.

           Even worship.

           Yes, the smile unnerved Solas, but he couldn’t just walk away now. Everyone was staring. He took the offered spot and bowl of the soup Ellana had apparently made. It was good, with spices designed to wake up the eater. Still, after his dream and remembering food before, it was dirt. He listened to the people around him discuss what needed to be done today. He noticed that the majority of those seated were elves. There were a few humans, but they wore the old and worn clothes of common laborers. The great Herald of Andraste ate among the common folk, it would seem. Even cooked for them. She was playing a very clever long game. He looked over at the woman in question and saw her listening attentively, asking questions here and there. The meal passed amicably and eventually everyone got up and went their separate ways. Everyone except Solas and Ellana.

           Ellana. What a ridiculous name. She said it with such confidence and elegance, as if it were not as meaningless as her religion.

           “Something you’d like to discuss with me?”

           Solas looked up from his empty bowl at the woman. She was looking at him with her large green eyes and unnerving smile.

           “Why would you think that?” Solas asked, setting his bowl into a pile of dishes to be cleaned.

           “You’ve been watching me since you walked up, but you haven’t said anything. I figured there was something you wanted to discuss with me in private.”

           She stood gracefully and extended her hand towards the gate of Haven and asked, “Shall we?”

          Solas did not bother to contradict her, instead he stood and followed her out of Haven and past the soldiers training just outside the gates. They walked in silence until they reached a short pier on the opposite side of the large pond in front of Haven. Ellana sat on the end of the pier with her feet swinging below. Solas elected to stand next to her, his hands folded behind his back. She leaned back on her hands so she could look up at him better, not commenting on his refusal to sit next to her.

           “You said you came from a Dalish temple.” Solas stated.

           “I did.”

           “I was not aware the Dalish had temples.”

           “I’m not surprised.”

           Solas tried not to let his hackles rise.

           “I should like to see one. Where would I find one?”

           “You can’t.”

           Solas did bristle some this time, “Excuse me?”

           Ellana sighed and looked forward, “They can only be found by believers. You have made it abundantly clear you don’t believe in my gods, so you can’t find it.”

           This made Solas pause, “That sounds like a strong enchantment.”

           Ellana nodded, “It is, it was a safety precaution put in place by our gods before The Fall.”

           “How do you know that they are the ones who cast the enchantment?”

           “That’s what all the stories say. Also logic. The enchantment has been in place since The Fall so it makes sense that the gods whose temples the protection is placed upon are the ones who put the spell in place.”

           “How do you know the enchantment has been in place that long?”

           “Written records that survive.”

           Solas felt his forehead crease and his eyes darted down to look at Ellana. He did not think any records survived from his people.

           “Did your people find them with temple?”

           Ellana laughed, “No, my people recorded it.”

           Solas sat slowly and carefully next to the woman. Finally he asked, “What?”

           “My people have inhabited the temples since before The Fall. It hasbeen thousands of years since then so obviously not all the records survive. That, in addition to the hardship we have dealt with, years of loss, flood, and fires. Much has been lost. Still, we preserve and learn from what we can. My temple doesn’t actually have many records on hand. Most writings and artifacts are taken to the temple of Falon’Din, the history keepers. They evaluate everything and present findings to the other temples every few years.”

           Solas’s head was reeling. How much exactlydid she know? How could he ask without giving too much away?

           Could she know everything and be messing with him?

           “Wait,” Solas’s train of thought suddenly skidded to a stop , “I’ve met Dalish tribes. They never told me about any of this. I seemed to know more from my dreaming than they did. Do you not tell them any of this?”

           “So, you assume because you walked into a Dalish camp and demanded information, they would tell you everything they know about their sacred history and religion?”

           Ellana looked at him as if she were talking to a child. Solas scoffed, “Why do you assume I was demanding?”

           The woman rolled her eyes, “Because I’ve had a conversation with you before, Solas.”

           “Still, with all of this apparent knowledge, why haven’t you used it to create more permanent settlements and civilization?”

           “We did once,” Ellana said quietly, “Just ask the Empress in Halamshiral.”

           Both were quiet for a moment. Ellana broke the silence and said, “The humans outnumber us, easily. They have more resources, more land, and more bodies to throw around. If we ever try to reassert ourselves again publicly, it would have to be a very delicate process. The humans are unnerved by people in power who aren’t exactly like them.”

           Solas was silent, she spoke truth and it frustrated him. Ellana wasn’t done yet though and turned to him, “Why do you even care?”

           Solas started a bit at that, “What do you mean?”

           “I mean why do you care. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve only ever spoken about the Dalish with disdain. You even lift your nose up at the elvhen who live in alienages. You don’t seem to like your own people very much so I will repeat myself before we continue any further. Why do you care?”

           Solas turned to stare at Ellana and wanted immediately to defend himself, but she had shared much with him and he would do her the courtesy of considering her question.

           “I… have not lived much among other elves,” Not recently anyway, “and the few I have interacted with have not treated me with an abundant amount of kindness.”

           Ellana nodded, “I can see how that would color your perception, but have you considered why they would treat you in such a way?”

           “Like everyone else, they are afraid of what they do not know.”

           Ellana nodded again and turned back towards the pond, “That could be part of it. Have you also considered it was because they have had to be afraid? Have had to treat all outsiders with suspicion? The world is a dangerous place for elves. Surely even living separately you must still know this.”

           “I do. Still, it is frustrating.”

           “I can see how it would be. If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry you were not treated kindly, you didn’t deserve that.”

           Solas was quiet for a moment while he regarded the woman next to him, “Thank you.”

           Ellana looked back over to Solas, “When all this is over, would you like to see a temple?”

           Solas thought for a moment. If what she said was true, and it really was a temple of Mythal, it was very likely he had been there before. He didn’t know if he could go. Knowing that she wasn’t there. That she never would be again. He had purposefully kept himself away from elvhen ruins since he had awoken. He didn’t want to see his home like that. Ruins.

           “I think you might actually like it there,” Ellana said, still looking forward, “plenty of people to debate with. The priests of Mythal are rather known for that talent.”

           Solas chuckled, that much at least had stayed the same, “Maybe I will.”

           Ellana smiled at him again, and Solas found it just a little less unnerving.

           “So, were you raised in the temple or in a clan?”

           The light atmosphere shifted suddenly and Ellana looked forward again, “Neither.”

           Ellana tugged on a pendant he had noticed her wearing before. It was a carving of a dragon’s head, an old piece of leather was tied around one horn, and the bottom of the carving was smoother than rest after years of rubbing at it.

           “My mother was raised in a clan, I think.”

           Solas felt a pit in his stomach, but forced himself to continue, “You think?”

           She nodded, “Yes, this was hers, and I remember that she had vallaslin like mine.”

           “What happened to her?”

           “I don’t know. I was taken from her when I was five.”

           Solas didn’t say anything. It was the most emotional he had ever seen Ellana. She didn’t cry, but it looked like she had plenty of times before. After a moment she gathered herself and smiled. It was the smile that had unnerved him before, but now he saw it for what it was. She got up, bid him goodbye, and walked away.

           Solas spent the rest of the day helping the healers to stock pile salves, help those injured by rifts, and continuing his study of the Breach. He found it difficult to focus however. The People had fallen so far. The suffering they have endured. It was unimaginable.

           And it was all his fault.

           After trying to read the same sentence in his book for the fifth time he decided he wasn’t going to get any work done in his current state. He needed someone that could help him focus on what was really important. Not on just one example of suffering. He needed to refocus on the big picture. He laid in bed and quickly fell asleep. As soon as he entered the Fade he found himself in an old library that he had visited many times growing up. Tall trees wove together to make shelves covered in heavy tomes. The roof was nothing but beautiful green leaves. He looked around for his friend, Wisdom, but could not find them anywhere. Odd. They were normally here when he came looking.

           “Hello?” Solas called. His voice echoed strangely here.

           “I need to focus on what is really important.”

          His own words surrounded him as the ground beneath him gave way and he fell. He reached out desperately to try to reshape the dream, but to no avail. He landed on a cobblestone alley on a beautiful sunny day. There were plants hung along the walls drying, and several barrels were stacked along the walls as well. Suddenly a door behind him burst open and screams filled the air. A human man emerged holding a screaming elven girl. An older elvhen woman came barreling out after before being grabbed back by other hands. He couldn’t make out the woman’s face, or the faces of those holding her. But he could smell the spices. They filled his nose and made him want to be sick. The feeling was made worse when he looked at the face of the child and saw her bright green eyes rimmed red with tears.

           He shouldn’t be here.

           He tried again desperately to leave this dream, but still couldn’t break out.  Solas followed the child’s line of sight to see the woman being beaten in the alley. The girl screamed louder. Finally the guard yelled, “If you don’t shut up we’ll break her arm!”

           The girls eyes widned and she bit down on her lip. She looked back at her mother on the ground, now trying to stand back up. The woman looked up and stared at the child as if she were the only thing in the alley, the whole world even. The guards started walking again and Solas followed little Ellana out of the alleyway and into another memory.

           She was in a rickety old cabin that shook all around them. A storm raged outside and the only light was provided by the flashes of lighting in the sky. Ellana sat curled up on a small cot with a threadbare blanket covering her. There were seven other cots like hers in the tiny space, with other small children in them. All of them were soaked from the myriad leaks in the roof. All of them were shivering. In these conditions, Solas wouldn’t be surprised if half of them died in the night. Ellana was crying, but the child in the bed next to her was sobbing. He was screaming for his mother. For a cherished blanket. For a lost toy. There was a fireplace in the back of the cabin, but the wood was soaked and no matches were provided.

           Solas knelt next to little Ellana’s bed and watched as her eyes focused in on the child next to her. She gritted her teeth and sat up in bed with a look a fierce determination on her face. She looked at all the other little bodies in the room shaking from the cold and fear. Solas knew suddenly that all of them had come with her, had been taken from their mothers with the same purchase that took Ellana from hers. She got into the bed next to her and took the little boys hand. The boy squeezed her hand back and his sobs calmed some. She turned to check on the child on the other side of her bed, who had been quiet. She crawled out of her bed and onto the other little girls. She picked up the girls hand and felt that it was cold. She felt that the hand wasn’t shaking either. The girl wasn’t breathing. Her wide blue eyes were still wet from tears, but they weren’t crying anymore.

           Ellana flung herself back and Solas wanted to scream in rage. The other children had gotten up to see what had spooked her so bad. Ellana looked at all of their faces, and Solas could see what she saw. Despair. Complete and total heartbreak. No child in that room was older than seven. All of them were shaking and Solas was terrified his earlier prediction would prove to be true. Ellana’s little face set again as she got out of bed. She went over to the fireplace and knelt down.

           The oldest looking child, a girl, asked, “What are you doing?”

           Ellana stared at the dark fireplace, “My mamae taught me a trick. In the winter when it would get cold and we couldn’t get enough firewood, she knew how to get warm.”

           “What’s the tri-”

           “Shush, I’m focusing.”

           The older girl looked annoyed but didn’t say anything else. Ellana held her hands over the logs, as if they were lit and she was warming them. Her face was scrunched up and her eyes were closed. He could hear her mumbling to herself, “I am warm,” over and over again.

           For a few long minutes nothing happened. The other children all looked at each other confused. The older girl rolled her eyes and laid back down. Solas pitied her, she was too young to be so jaded. Solas kneeled down next to Ellana and he could see the little tears coming out of her squeezed-shut eyes and could hear her sniffles.

           “I am warm.” She was crying to herself.

           Solas knew he couldn’t help, this had happened long ago for her, but still he whispered, “You can do this.”

           Her face twisted even further and her head tilted, like she was giving it one more go. Suddenly steam began to rise from the logs. More and more rose and the other children rose with it and gathered around her. Ellana still hadn’t opened her eyes. The other children lifted their little hands up to and prayed with her, “I am warm. I am warm.”

           Suddenly a small flicker of light appeared deep under the logs, all the children gasped. Their prayer grew louder and louder as the flame grew. Ellana didn’t open her eyes, but her voice rose with theirs. Solas could feel it coming off of the children in waves.

           Faith.

           The fire grew bigger and bigger until it engulfed the logs. Only then did Ellana open her eyes. The children cheered. Ellana didn’t. She stood and walked over to the little girl still in her bed with her unseeing blue eyes. The other children sobered and joined her. They gathered around the bed solemn as priests at the passing of great king. Very gently Ellana pulled back the blanket and placed her hands under the girls slight shoulders. The other children followed suit and lifted her carefully, so as to not disturb her. They placed her in front of the fire and covered her back up with her blanket, pulling it so it covered her face. The other children sat around her with Ellana in the middle. They all grabbed the child next to them and held each other. Solas knelt behind them and watched them fall asleep like that.

           The room darkened and Solas was pulled into another memory. Solas was still reeling from the previous scene that he didn’t even try to stop it. He was kneeling on a riverbank with trees all around him. For a moment he thought he was back in his library, but then another elf joined him. He recognized Ellana again, but she was older this time, maybe fifteen. She did not yet have vallaslin on her face, but she was gripping the same pendent she had been wearing earlier. The same determination was set on her face as she stared at the water.

           “Hurry it up!”

           Solas swung around with Ellana and saw a human guard standing a few paces behind them. There was enough detail in the armor now to confirm Solas’s suspicions. They were from Tevinter. Ellana wore no shackles, but she didn’t need to. She turned back and dipped her hands in the water and took a drink. Others joined her at the riverbank. Solas counted at least twenty before Ellana was standing and Solas was moving with her. It was dusk and it was obvious that this was a traveling party that had made camp for the night. A rudimentary fence had been set up with little bells on the wires hanging between wood posts. Bedrolls were set up inside, and Ellana walked through the only opening in the fence and sat on one. The guard at the entrance spoke to the elves present, “One hour until the end of dinner.”

           All of the elves nodded and the guard walked a short distance away to talk to another human. It was still light enough out, though it would be dark soon, and he didn’t really have to worry about them escaping. Solas could see the road from the clearing where they had made camp and recognized the Imperial Highway. Solas looked back at Ellana and could see that she wasn’t looking at the road. Her eyes were deadlocked on the river. Another elf sat on the bedroll next to hers so that both of their backs were facing the guards. Solas recognized her face as the older girl from the shed.

           “Don’t even think about it.”

           Ellana smiled but didn’t take her eyes off the water, “Too late.”

           “Are you crazy,” The girl was whispering but Solas could tell she wanted to scream, “You can’t swim.”

           “I can float. I can grab a piece of wood and kick. That’ll help me float faster.”

           “You’ll drown.” The girl hissed, looking increasingly desperate.

           Ellana turned to look at her and asked, “Are you going to tell?”

           The girl scoffed, “Of course not.” She hesitated for a moment, “I just don’t want you to die.”

           Ellana held her pendant firmly and looked back at the water, “I’m not going to die.”

           She seemed to be saying it more to herself than her friend. The memory blurred and her friend drifted away. There was movement around Ellana, but she didn’t take her eyes off of the water. The sun sank in the sky, and the guards were finally drunk. Solas knew that she would be all right, but the air was thick with tension and it was hard for him to breathe. Finally, Ellana rose. She looked behind her and saw that the guards weren’t paying attention. She looked down at the small pack next to her and thought for a moment. She grabbed only a small shiv out of it and stuck it in a small pouch tied at her waist. She took off her necklace and reached into her shirt to tie the cord tightly around her breast band. She took off her boots and started to walk casually towards the water. Solas could see other elves heads rise and look at her. Their idle chatter stopped and she began running. Solas heard a guard shouting behind her but she was moving too fast. Solas ran along side her and watched her face scrunch up the same way it did when she had made fire just as she jumped into the fast moving river. Solas was dragged under with her and couldn’t tell which way was up. All he felt was the water, and the fear. It dragged him down and he kicked his legs desperately and brought himself above the surface. He saw Ellana do the same and desperately try to keep herself above the surface. Solas was pulled back under and didn’t see anything else.

           When he could open his eyes again, he was staring up at the night sky. He turned and saw Ellana a few paces away puking up water and bile, her feet still in the water. Once she could breathe again she was laughing. Solas could feel her jubilation. Her freedom. It was gone the moment they both heard shouting. They spun to look at the opposite bank and could make out torch light in the distance through the trees. In a moment Ellana was on her feet and she was running. Solas could only follow. They ran together through the forest and Solas could feel the fear rolling off Ellana in waves, but she didn’t slow down. The trees almost seemed to part for them. Showing them the way. Solas turned his head and saw that they were in fact closing behind them.

           Time seemed to melt away as they ran. They ran through heat, through rain, through forests, through snow. They just ran. Solas could see Ellana getting thinner, could see her wearing down. Finally they reached a bog. From the state of Ellana’s clothes she must have been on the run for weeks, if not months. The pendant was clutched in her right hand with the cord wrapped around her wrist. Her left hand clutched the small shiv desperately. Ellana had abandoned her shoes when she left, and the bog was treacherous. Ellana was soaked and exhausted but forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t last though, Solas could see that clearly. She was starving, hadn’t rested, and from the sweat on her forehead was likely very ill. She was trying to climb a small hill when her feet finaly gave out and she collapsed in the mud.

           With what was left of her strength she rolled onto her back and wailed. It was thunderous. Solas felt it in his soul. She had fought for so long to die on this hill in this bog. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she wailed. If she were caught now she didn’t have to worry, she wouldn’t survive the journey back to the Magister anyway. She turned her head to the side and looked at the pendant she clutched. Solas strained to hear her whisper, “I’m sorry. I don’t know any of the right words. My mother used to sing them, but I don’t know them anymore.”

           She pulled her arm with the pendent to her chest and clutched tight, whispering, “I don’t even know your name.”

           The scene began to fade when Solas heard a gentle feminine voice float down around them, “Her name is Mythal, and she has brought you to safety.”

           The last thing Solas saw was a glowing elvhen woman reaching down to Ellana.

           “I need to focus on what is really important.”

           Solas heard his own voice again and was suddenly back in his library. Wisdom stood in front of him. Solas collapsed to his knees in front of his friend, breathing heavily. Wisdom bent down in front him and said, “When you only focus on the big picture, it can be hard to remember why your goals are so important.”

           Wisdom reached down a hand and pulled Solas to his feet, “You do not trust her because you do not trust faith. It has betrayed you, and many others. You must also understand that your experience is not universal. Faith can be a good thing; it can bring strength where none exists. Make the impossible, possible. She is strong because she has had to be. Clever because she has had to be. Manipulative because she has had to be. You of all people should understand.”

           Solas nodded. Wisdom opened their mouth and a strange mix of Ellana’s and Mythal’s voice came out, “I need your help. I cannot do this alone.”

           Solas shot awake.

------

Chapter 7: https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/188454450694/chapter-7-vivienne

[blackleger]

Makeup

Ell looked in front of her the set of small francs and cases full of multicolored creams and powders, she really wasn't a girl who liked a lot of makeup but lately she had tended a certain curiosity for it and that was what had led to find herself sitting in front to Matilda's dressing table, she let out a long sigh as she picked up one of those little random bottles, well, it looked like a cream so it should be easy to apply, she thought as she opened the bottle.

An hour later she realized how wrong she was, she lost count of how many times she had to take off all that makeup, maybe she should have to waited for Matilda and asked her to make up but that definitely sounded like a terrible idea, the last thing she wanted was to be dragged back to a beauty salon and spend hours accompanying her friend going from store to store in an endless shopping session. She pouted in front of the mirror and she can't help laughing a little, she really didn't look like herself, she wink an eye at her reflection flirting with herself, she hadn't done such a bad job to be his first attempt of makeup herself, she had loosened her hair and maybe she had used a lipstick that was too red but in her opinion it looked good on her, she examined the rest of her face, she had abandoned her attempts to apply shadow and mascara, she didn't understand how Matilda make it look so easy, although in his opinion she had managed to apply the eyeliner correctly and as for the rest of his face, perhaps she shouldn't have used so much of that concealer that had left his face too pale; despite that all Ell got up from the dresser feeling a little prettier than how she had entered.

Under the stairs jumping on the steps, she felt good enough humor to go for a walk and it was a nice day as for to waste it locked up in the house; she stopped in front of the door of his home taking a breath of fresh air, until a shrill laugh interrupted his little moment of relaxation.

-Ellana.

Her neighbor was in front of her house with a couple of bags laughing at her.

-The circus left a couple of days ago but I think they weren't hiring clowns.

To say that she felt offended for that would be to say little, even so, the idea that her makeup looked as terrible as her neighbor described it was making her seriously reconsider going back the house and going to wash her face until she removed all traces of makeup.

-Is not it like you could do better? –she challenge the Spaniard who had stopped laughing and just looked at her with a serious expression that couldn't define, she would have preferred that she was annoyed or something similar and not acting with that attitude that seemed so unpredictable.

Ell could only see how Ellana began to walk to his own house making the gesture to follow her, however she remained standing in the same place without knowing if she should go after the brunette or return at his home.

-Are you coming or not?! –asked the girl with a note of annoyance in her voice as she looked back waiting for her neighbor follow her, she watched as the other girl seemed to hesitate a moment before beginning to follow her, under other circumstances she wouldn't allow Ell to enter her house but couldn't she rejected a challenge and she was also bored.

Once inside the house, the girl of sweatshirt green stayed in the entrance with her hands inside the bag of her sweatshirt, it wasn’t the first time she entered that house, although she never did it in the presence of her rival. Usually was Joan who invited her to pass when she knocked on the door in search of her cat that had developed a fixation for sneaking into that house, maybe because Joan liked to feed the cat and that solved the mystery of why her cat was so fat and happy although the animal didn't touch the plate of food. She looked around cautiously, aware of the absence of the other two inhabitants of the house, she couldn't avoid the nervous sensation that ran through his body, this was possibly the first time that was completely alone with her neighbor and rival, she really didn't dare to go beyond the entrance although Ellana didn't seem to care too much about her presence on the place since she had left her alone as she headed to the kitchen to leave the bags with whatever she had bought.

Finally she was encouraged to explore the place in the absence of her hostess who was taking too long to return.

The colors of the living room were a little darker than those of her own home and yet the place seemed quite well lit, it seemed a little disappointing not to find any games console in the place, but she had to recognize the large collection of films that had its neighbors, although most of those disc seemed to be musical, Ell just kind of chuckled wondering which of the three girls would be the lover of the musicals.

-You finished sniffing around?

The voice behind the brunette made her jump a little in surprise at being discovered.

- Yes... I mean... I wasn't...I just wanted to see the movies.

Ellana just rolled her eyes at that response that did little to convince her but decided to leave the issue aside.

-It's not like you've broken something, well, let's go upstairs –she said as she started walking towards his room.

-Upstairs?

-You didn't expect makeup here, right? –Ell remained silent, exhausting the patience of the other girl who made a gesture of annoyance–. You come or you can go, you know where the door is.

-I'm going, just... uh, you know, this feels a little weird.

- Let's just do this before I repent, okay? I begin to seriously consider that it would have been more fun to see you walking around looking at you like that –said Ellana pointing to the mirror that hung behind the sofa.

-Hey! For my first try it looks good.

-Of course, it would look wonderful if you were six years old.

That was the last mockery Ellana threw before heading to the stairs leaving the British girl with no choice but to follow her. Ell had to admit that this had been the longest time they had spent together without fight, sometimes the girl of sweatshirt couldn't help wondering where Ellana's rejection had been born from, even though it wasn't something she openly admitted she had really tried to please Ellana when she and her friends had just moved to the house next door, but soon she realized that those attempts to like her did nothing but provoke the displeasure of Ellana by his person, finally that was what led to the relationship between the two to their current state, where both they would argue and fight for the slightest nonsense, even dragging their respective friends to that rivalry.

She remained at the end of the stairs watching the Spanish girl body swaying as he climbed the steps, Ellana had an elegant walk while his pants were too tight to his body, Ell couldn't swallow spittle and divert the her face flushed, reprimanding herself for her own thoughts as she hurried to catch up with Ellana.

-Sit there – said Ellana pointing to the small stool that match with the headdress.

With some indecision Ell went to the place indicated, she couldn't help moving his fingers with some nervousness while watching his own reflection in the mirror on the dressing table, noticing that maybe she didn't look as cute as she had thought at first.

-And ... don't I have to wash my face first or something? – she ask a little insecurely receiving a funny laugh from her companion.

-I really thought you were kidding when you said it was your first attempt to makeup.

-Yes, well, I never really caught me the attention before.

-I can ask, why the change of opinion?

Ell remained silent considering her response, on the one hand she had the constant insistence of Matilda because she let her makeup because it was a lost case to try it with Tamara and on the other, well, the other reason was a bit more embarrassing to admit, it was simply she had found that she really liked to see how Matilda and her neighbors looked cute with makeup and had wanted to imitate them even once time.

- Eh, that, I think I wanted to try a different look.

-I guess that explains the loose hair too, you can take one from the leagues there, I need you to remove the hair from your face –the girl commented while soaking a small rounded cotton on make-up remover.

-Well, that's it, and now?

- Close your eyes.

-Eh? All right? –Ell said a little insecure, she really wasn't expected finished in that situation when she decided to try to put on makeup, but still decided to comply with the order, the brunette gave a little jump when she felt the cotton was cold and wet on her eyes–. What's it for?

Ellana just rolled her eyes at the question, she was bored but that didn't mean she wanted to talk with Ell.

-First you have to remove makeup from the eyes and then continue with the rest of the face to finish with the lips.

-It's a lot of work, do you really have to do all that whenever you put on makeup?

- You get used to it after a while.

The girls remained silent after that, possibly that was the longest time they had shared together and surprisingly they were enjoying the moment. Ell had to admit that it was quite nice the little touches he received while Ellana took care of removing all the makeup of his face.

-Well, it's ready –Ellana announced, laying aside the pink vial of tonic to hydrate.

Ell looked around a bit confused, she had lost the notion of time enjoying that session and she can't help but imitate the same smile that Ellana had on his face, that was the first time she saw her neighbor smile like that, she would really like to see that expression on Ellana's face more often.

-What? –Ellana asked feeling a little uncomfortable at the way Ell was watching her.

-I think you look cute smiling –she answered, noticing what she had said without wanting to.

Ellana put on hand to her face trying to hide her blush, had not expected to receive such a sudden praise.

-Graci... Nothing, just ... just go at the bathroom and rinse your face, we while more fast finished with this more quicker you go out of here -she murmur pointing to the door without really wanting to see the face of the other girl, really she needed a moment alone.

Ell didn't think twice about doing what Ellana told her and leaving the place quickly closing the door behind her, she leaned against the door of the room while holding a hand to his chest feeling his heart beating fast , she hadn't really expected see that shy facet of Ellana but it certainly seemed quite adorable, shook her head in search of erasing those thoughts from her mind and began to walk at to where are the bathroom was, it was fortunate that all the houses they will be distributed of the same form.

When she return to the room found Ellana sitting on the bed looking at him with a gesture of anger, no doubt she had to imagine that cute attitude wouldn't last too long.

-Let's finish with this so you can get out of my house.

"It was nice while it lasted" –Ell thought for himself as he returned to his seat with a resigned smile.

-And what are we going to start with? –she ask in an attempt to initiate a dialogue with Ellana that looked at her with a serious expression that made her a little nervous.

-With a base and then some proofreader –it was the brief response Ell received to his question.

It was obvious to her that Ellana didn't intend to talk but she still wanted to try talk whit the girl.

-Ellana.

-Uhm – the girl mumbled with distraction while trying to find the right combination of color for the base, she didn't understand why Ell's sudden insistence on talking but was irritating.

-Who taught you to makeup?

-That, I think it was more trial and error, Martha and I used to makeup when we were in high school and sometimes we makeup a Joan.

Both continued talking about other frivolities, making the passage of time was faster.

-I think with this we finish – Ellana said, getting up and taking a step back.

-So fast?

-Well, we took more than an hour in this

Ell looked in the mirror and admire the result, definitely the girl who was returning the look didn't seem to be her. Her lips had a light pink color that made the color look natural in her lips, while her face looked velvety and her eyes looked much more striking.

-Thank you! Thank you! –she shouted excited, hugging Ellana and lifting her off the ground.

-Ell let me go! –Ellana exclaimed, trying to wrestle with the girl of the sweatshirt in an attempt to rid herself of that uncomfortable hug.

Finally Ell stopped her celebration without releasing the other girl who had stopped struggling trying to break out of her embrace, looked at Ellana in hers arms when an idea crossed his mind, possibly that would be the only time she could do that because she doubted that Ellana give her another chance to approach her of that way. She closed her eyes and leaned over Ellana, joining her lips with her own, separating almost immediately, waiting for the blow that she would surely receive for her audacity.

One, two, three ... She counted mentally until he reached ten, noticing to her surprise and joy at the lack of response from Ellana, so she finally decided to open his eyes and look at the other girl, who like her had previously closed her eyes while an intense blush invaded her face, so taking a little more courage, she proceeded to kiss her again, taking her time to make that contact so much softer by moving her arms discreetly to the Spanish waist, feeling as his body relaxed while letting go for the moment.

When they separated looking to catch their breath, none dared to look at each other, too stunned by the situation they were in at that moment, it was Ell who decided to try to find out how far the situation could go.

She push Ellana gently against the dressing table that seemed to capture the idea and she sat on the furniture without paying too much attention to the objects that fell at the floor  while carrying one of her hands behind Ell's head in a kiss much more demanding than the first they had shared. Ellana couldn't help but taste the fruity taste of the lipstick she had used, trembling slightly at the inexperienced touch of the other girl between her legs that gently caressed her thighs, didn't want to think much about the situation, nor think about because he was letting himself go so submissively. She had never had an interest in his life to experiment with other women but Ell could be a small exception and anyway, if Ell said something, who would believe her? She slid her hands below the sweatshirt of Ell that separated when she understood that she was trying.

Ell took off her sweatshirt awkwardly until she finally managed to get rid of the garment throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room with a nervous laugh.

-May l? –Ell asked, bringing her trembling hands to Ellana's blouse asking for her approval to get rid of the buttons.

With a nod the girl gave her approval, little by little she got rid of the buttons on Ellana's blouse leaving her only with that white undershirt that used to stand out from between her clothes, it was annoying that she wore so many clothes. She stopped admiring the body of his neighbor, her nipples were marked under her clothes, swallow spit before beginning to kiss the neck of Ellana leaving a trail of pink lipstick marked in her skin. Ellana's breasts were soft to the touch and her skin crawls as she heard her sigh in her ear making her heart race. She let out a surprised sound when she felt the buttons of her pants open and Ellana's hands began to slide inside her underwear.

-Ellana! We back!

Both stopped with a look of panic on their faces, Martha's voice from the ground floor had appeared interrupting the moment. The sound of footsteps going up the stairs did Ellana to push Ell and run towards the door for locked.

-Elli - Joan's singing voice came from the other side of the door. Joan tried to enter at room finding the door blocked–. Ellana, are you okay? –Joan sounded worried from the other side.

-I'm fine, just let me… –Ellana looked around to find an excuse– …I'm getting dressed.

She helped Ell get up off the floor and start pushing the window.

-Window, come out the window.

With a sigh of relief she saw Ell disappear through the window, she looked her sweatshirt still on the floor and she kicked her under the bed before opening the door.

-What do you want, Joan? -she asked at her friend before the dry noise of something falling interrupted them.

Ellana cursed her luck while Joan hurried to lean out the window.

***Ell ended with a broken arm and leg and Ellana had to care of her after of that.***

Eh ... well, this is the first time I write Yuri and if anyone has any advice to improve it I would appreciate it.

Well, I wrote this while I was listen Maquillaje of Mecano, lol, nothing to see the history with the song.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OMsCz5MVpY

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [644

“Quick! Behind the couch!”

Bull glances at Ellana, “I am bigger than our couch.”

Ellana is flat on the floor, attempting to slither underneath said couch like a crime scene outline.

“If you can sit on it, you can hide behind it,” Ellana says, now just half a head, an arm, and a funny looking leg as she wiggles around. “We’ve got to start dusting underneath here. I feel gross and I’m only halfway in. Oh, hey, look, I found one of the die Dagna forged us. The one with the gold inlay.”

A single black six sided die skitters out from underneath the couch, hitting Bull’s foot.

Bull slowly sits down behind the couch, knowing damn well his horns are poking upwards and above the couch’s back.

“Why are we hiding?”

“My brother’s home.”

“And?”

“Do we need any other reason?”

“As much as your brother’s mere presence activates my fight or flight instincts, it doesn’t normally mean I hide from him. I mean, sure, he’s Mahanon. But my normal reaction is to do a mental checklist of if I’ve done anything to — what did you do?”

Bull snatches Ellana’s ankle and starts to pull her out from underneath the couch, even as she attempts to wiggle away faster.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Why else would you hide? You wronged him. Did you use his hair product again?”

“If I used his hair product I wouldn’t hide it, I’d flaunt it by showing off how good it works on my hair. Stop it! Let go! He’s going to find me!”

“Ellana, your brother — if he were so inclined to quit his job as a geologist and nature photographer — could make a living on bounty hunting and looking for serial killers he’s got such an uncanny ability to find people when he wants to. You hiding underneath our couch isn’t going to protect you from him. What did you do?”

“I’m innocent until proven guilty.”

“Mahanon doesn’t acknowledge the rule of law. What did you do?”

“I broke one of his rocks.”

Bull lets her go and starts to stand up.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from this house before it becomes a murder scene,” Bull says. “I’ll go see if Pentaghast or Rutherford will let me crash at their place until the police finish wiping you off the walls. I can’t believe I’m already a widower. I would’ve thought that I had at least another thirty years before one of us kicked it.”

Ellana groans, “You’re leaving me?”

“I love you, but I’m not willing to throw myself under the bus with you to suffer for a crime I wasn’t even witness to, or aware of before now.”

“What happened to until death do us part?”

“We didn’t get an Andrastian marriage, Ellana, I didn’t swear any of that to you. Besides, you broke something in your brother’s rock collection. I’m pretty sure that is the death where we part at.”

-

“We really, really need to cut down on our board and card games,” Ellana says, looking forlornly at the storage trunk full of games she’s attempting to squeeze another box into. “We can’t possibly play all of these regularly.”

“Empty it,” Bull says, “The ones at the bottom are probably ones we haven’t touched since we moved in.”

“You’d be wrong,” Mahanon replies, thrusting his arm into the trunk and emerging with a player’s handbook. “I’ve been through this one already. The bottom fo this trunk is players handbooks for your tabletop games. I think you also have Pathfinder down there.”

“Surely we don’t need those anymore, you’re a walking wikipedia,” Ellana says.

“You never know.”

“Don’t we have a digital copy?”

“There’s something about holding the actual handbook in your hand that feels better.”

Mahanon waves the handbook at Bull. “You mean the handbook you keep at the bottom of a trunk full of other games?”

“He’s got you there.”

Cole shuffles over, reaching around Bull and pulling out a small yellow cloth banana.

“Why are there fruit with your games?”

“It’s not a real fruit. It’s a game called Bananagrams.”

Cole plays with the yellow banana in his hands, listening to the clicking of tiles inside of the bag.

“Why are your games fruit?”

“Probably because the game makers thought it would be a fun word to say,” Ellana answers. “I’ll show you how to play later. We’re keeping this one. It would do nothing to get rid of it and it’s fun. It’s a nice quiet game. Usually.”

Ellana shoots a glare at Bull. “Unless you’re making up words.”

“I was not making up words,” Bull protests. “I just happen to know a lot more esoteric words than you do.”

“Never play any games involving words, math, or thinking outside the box with a hard working genius,” Ellana confides to Cole.

“What kind of games do you play with a hard working genius?”

“Chance and probability based games, usually,” Mahanon says. “A person’s intelligence has very little to do with those.”

Ellana digs through the top layer of games. “Speaking of. How come we don’t have any of those? We don’t even have Chutes and Ladders?”

“Why is Monopoly taped shut?”

Ellana points at Bull. “Why the heck do you think?”

“Right. That was a redundant question. Let’s just get rid of it.”

“I like Monopoly.”

Ellana and Mahanon glare at Bull. “Of course you do.”

Mahanon takes the taped shut Monopoly box and slides it across the floor towards the wall pointing at it. “Discard pile.”

“You two are just bitter losers.”

“Bull, the last time we played Monopoly you insisted on doing a ‘proper’ game, whatever the hell that means, and it lasted two weeks. Two. Full. Weeks.”

“That’s how you know you’re playing it right.”

“We aren’t playing the capitalist game in this house. We’re already living that nightmare.”

Cole reaches into the trunk and pulls out a box of playing cards. And then another box. And another. And then another.

“Why do we have so many playing cards?” Bull asks, peering into the trunk as Cole continues to pull out boxes of playing cards.

“I don’t know, but I want to see how far this goes,” Ellana says. “It’s like watching a magician pulling scarves out of his sleeve.

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [601]

"You two look like delinquent punks from some kind of really old Earth movie,” Maxwell says. “Are those bomber jackets? Where did you even get those?”

The Lavellans look like hand to god menaces. Both of them are sporting black bomber jackets with what Maxwell’s willing to bet is hand done embroidery on the back and sleeves, as well as several patches along the arms. The Inquisition’s flaming eye is on the side of their right arms and on their left breast are mock ups of their current ranks within the Inquisition. Ellana’s got her hair slicked back into a high ponytail and Mahanon’s hair is in a tight braid. They’re both wearing skinny jeans. Skinny jeans. And high tops.

“Are you trying out for a musical?”

Both of the grin something fierce.

“It’s our first day of leave,” Mahanon says, kicking a duffle bag at their feet. “We’re going home.”

“Our entire family is going to be there. We haven’t been back to Earth in almost two years,” Ellana says, an incredibly frightening gleam in her eyes. “The cousin’s cousins are going to be there.”

“Our cousin’s cousin’s cousins are going to be there.”

“Our cousin’s cousin’s — “

“Cousin’s cousin’s cousins are going to be there?”

“No. That’s absurd. Who the fuck would invite people out that many generations? They’re practically strangers.”

“No. Our cousin’s cousin’s specialize in tuning up and salvaging ancient Earth tech, and they managed to fix up a convertible. A soft top convertible.”

“Cherry red.”

“Cream interior.”

“Chrome wheels. Wood panel finish.”

“V-8 engine, baby.” Ellana’s mouth shows too many teeth for someone entirely sane. “And I get to drive it.”

Maxwell looks between the two of them before settling on Mahanon who looks a touch less manic than his sister.

“You aren’t going to drive?”

“Not that car,” Mahanon says. And then he grins. “They found me something better.”

“Alright, I’m going to cut it off there because I don’t know anything about old tech like cars and trucks and whatever that run on fossil fuels. Burning fossils to make things move. Insanity. It’s just the two of you going?”

The siblings’ necks snap to look at each other so fast that Maxwell swears that either one, they just died, or two, they’re possessed and his is a very terrible horror movie he’s just invited himself into.

“The Iron Bull.”

They both grin, letting out low snickers.

“He’s going too?”

They both turn to look at Max.

“He’s going to meet his in-laws,” Mahanon says.

“He’s going to meet our mom.”

“He’s going to meet our nan.”

“He’s going to meet our tia’s.”

“He’s going to meet the Surana branch of the family.”

Mahanon and Ellana simultaneously reach for each other, as if they need to physically brace and anchor themselves down by holding onto something.

“Alim Surana is going to be there and it’s going to be so fucking wild.”

“They’re going to be breathing the same air in a room together for at least five minutes. They’re going to exchange words with each other.”

“Should I…know the importance of this?”

“I’m going to record it,” Ellana says. “Well. Someone’s going to record it. Hopefully multiple someones so we can get this shit from multiple angles. All the angles. Every single one.”

“He’s going to drive the humvee. Humvee. Maxwell. Imagine the Iron Bull in a humvee. And in a humvee directly next to the Iron Bull? An elf just as jacked as the Iron Bull but like. Only two inches taller than me. Your height.”

“Someone…jacked like Bull but my height?” Does not compute.

Rather than answering, both elves focus on something just past him. He turns and sees Bull waving towards them, coming up with his own bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, “You leaving base, too, Trevelyan?”

“No, I was just here to investigate reports of extremely dangerous looking hooligans near our warp pad,” Maxwell says. “And then I find out it’s just extremely dangerous hooligans.”

“Ready to meet the family?” Ellana says.

“Why does it sound like you’re asking him to meet organized crime?”

“Aren’t all families some variation of organized crime? Anyway, come on. Let’s get going. Later, Max. Don’t let anyone fly my ship while I’m away, okay? I’ll know if someone sat in my chair. And I promise I won’t be happy about it.”

-

“Space, the final frontier…”

“Malika, please stop monologuing,” Sera says, eyes closed as she wearily rests her head on the metal table. “I don’t get it. You drank just as much as the rest of us.”

“I’m sturdy,” Malika says, face rosy as she smiles at her reflection in the window. It’s so dark out, but the light of the planet they’ve entered orbit of after leaving their jump is so beautiful. It’s purple and blue, it reminds Malika of flowers and winter at the same time somehow. “Besides, how could I miss this? The first day after a hyper jump is the best! All the new stars! The new planets! All the hustle of making sure our ship is okay and that we’re on course and aren’t about to be ambushed. Right, Bull?”

Bull’s got a cold cloth draped over his face. “Fuck hyper jumps.”

“You’re just mad because you’ve got a fever,” Ellana says, switching the towel for him. “And when you have a fever you get cranky because no one lets you do stupid stuff because your judgement and your ability to make decisions goes down the literal toilet.”

“Untrue, my mind doesn’t get dull by disease.”

“Very true, I once saw you lose a card game to Cullen Rutherford because you had a fever,” Ellana kisses Bull’s cheek. “It was probably the best moment of his card playing career. Come on, we’ve made it through jump. Let’s get you lying down now, okay? You don’t need to be hyper focused anymore.”

“You heard Malika. What if we’re ambushed?”

“Unlikely,” Mahanon says, striding in through the doorway, “Scouts reported back from planet side. Their greatest technology so far is the wheel and even that’s questionable. If they have something capable of blasting us out of their orbit then they’ve got their priorities backwards.”

“There. See? It’s all good. Come on big guy. Mahanon, help me get him to our room. He might try and escape on me. He’s too scared of you to pull that kind of shit with you around.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [553]

Dementor training is a standard part of becoming an Auror.

It takes Ellana and Maxwell a very, very long time to pass that particular course. Maxwell passes before Ellana, but that’s only because he had a head start working at the Ministry for longer. When Ellana starts her training he’s always there, looking just as shaky as she does afterward, with large bars of muggle chocolate for them both. Muggle chocolate, because they come in these huge bars and so sweet that they hurt Ellana’s teeth. It’s diabetes solidified. Much like a Dementor is fear and despair and everything terrible given breath.

“I’m fairly sure I only passed because they were tired of me being in class vomiting and getting the shakes,” Maxwell admits. “I can only get a stable Patronus about half the time, anyway.”

Ellana’s yet to conjure one, so. There’s that. Maxwell’s always been better at that sort of magic, anyway. Give Ellana over to potion brewing or herbology or anything that requires prework and time and ritual and she’ll get it done quick as anything. Really, Hawke had no business recruiting her. Considering her scores in DADA and Transfiguration were, really, Acceptable at best. Ellana was actually getting E’s in Transfiguration until the whole tournament mess did a number on her literal everything, and of course she was flunked by the DADA professor at Hogwarts because of Slytherin bias. To be fair, though, Ellana was a solid Acceptable before that, anyway, and she probably did earn that Poor mark with her trigger-wand during the entire thing.

She supposes that considering her singular accolade of being the Witch of her Age coasted her through those particular on paper requirements.

It’s not really helping her now.

Ellana has happy memories. She’s scores of happy memories and things to draw on.

It’s just that…

Her life has been irrevocably changed and pinned to a very specific set of memories that happened years ago. It’s like a rope around Ellana’s neck. Every time she tries to escape, it reels her back, kicking and screaming and dying all the more until she’s back in the thick of it. Every happy memory is slowly eclipsed by the permanent reminders of those memories.

It doesn’t help that it’s literally all anyone will talk about if she’s anywhere in the vicinity.

How nice that they can see something pleasant in something that’s literally ruined her and destroyed everything she ever thought about herself.

Ellana doesn’t belong here.

“What do you think of when you do get it?”

Maxwell licks his thumb and wipes a bit of chocolate off of the corner of her mouth. Ellana fiddles with her chocolate wrapper, the tacky taste of too much sweetness making the back of her throat dry.

“It doesn’t always work. Sometimes I just…I can’t hold onto the memory,” Maxwell admits softly. “I don’t know how everyone else does it, but I just can’t. But. Usually when I do get it right, and I manage something…it’s usually of us. Or something with Evelyn. The four of us, even. I…I like the one where I’m at your place. And we were playing with baby kneazles. I just remember how soft they were and their high pitched meows and I remember them crawling all over Kaaras and he looked so smitten with them. And I remember you on the floor between us, flat on your back and kneazles walking all over you. Or…I remember the first time we.” Maxwell quickly mimes flapping with one hand, and Ellana guesses he means the first time they ever transformed into their animal forms.

Ellana’s tried that memory. It doesn’t work. She just keeps thinking about how it’s true that she’s a snake, because she sold out her friends in that fucking tournament and grabbed that cup when she watched them suffer and die and have all sorts of terrible things happen that she could have stopped. Should have stopped. And then it reminds her that she shouldn’t be here. She didn’t move to save her friends. She’s not a hero. She’s nothing.

She quickly takes another bite of chocolate, willing the stinging in her eyes to go away. This is something she’s going to take with her to her grave. She doesn’t ever want them to know about what she did(n’t do) to them. She doesn’t want them to ever know that she’s less than what they think she is. It’s selfish because they should know, but Ellana…

They’re the best thing to ever happen to her.

It doesn’t help that the instructor running the Dementor course is the fucking Iron Bull.

Gods, could the universe be any more cruel?

Now the Iron Bull gets to see her being pathetic and weak, on top of everything else. At least Maxwell has a fifty percent success rate. She’s at zero percent, she’s had to be saved from getting the Kiss five times already. It’s fucking humiliating. She’s willing to wager that the Iron Bull is extremely happy that he reached out to Maxwell instead of her for the job. Probably thinks that she’s a wash just like everyone else does, and that Hawke was doing it out of pity since he was a shit mentor during the games. It’d be nice if he could just say it to her face, though.

Ellana valiantly holds back on a sniffle and shoves another bite of chokingly sweet chocolate into her mouth.

“I only bought two,” Maxwell says, “Slow down.”

“Next time bring four,” Ellana replies.

“Then I have to buy six, because I give some to Kaaras to make it fair,” Maxwell replies.

“What’s yours?” Ellana asks. Probably a dog, she thinks, or a fox. Or maybe a horse? Or a crow, like his animagi form.

Maxwell blinks, and then he smiles.

“A snake,” he says quietly, eyes shining as he smiles at her. “The length of my arm and graceful as anything.”

He means her. Gods be merciful.

Ellana turns away and covers her mouth with her hand as though she was choking on chocolate, but really she’s just trying not to throw up.

Maxwell quickly pounds on her back, “Careful! Hey! Chew then swallow. Shit. I didn’t bring water. I should really start bringing water for this. Don’t choke!”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [532]

“Ah, Dorian’s in town,” Evelyn says, and Bull follows her gaze towards one of the balconies to see Lady Ellana Lavellan leaning into a mustached man in a sharp suit. He bites his tongue and forces himself to look forward instead. “I knew he was coming, but I didn’t realize he was already here. Cullen, did he send you a message?”

“No,” Cullen replies, “Perhaps he caught an earlier ship than he originally anticipated. We shall have to see if we can catch him during the intermission and see where he’s staying. Perhaps we could go out for a nightcap after the show.”

“Dorian?” Bull asks.

“Lord Dorian Pavus, an altus of Tevinter,” Cullen elaborates.

“Tevinter?”

“Don’t,” Evely warns him, pinching Bull’s arm. Bull gives her a bland look. “I may not know you very well, the Iron Bull, but everyone knows about the bad blood between the Qun and Tevinter. I’m warning you now, you do not want to attempt to further that relation with Dorian Pavus. He and Ellana get along thick as thieves, you know. She wouldn’t like it one bit.”

Bull hums noncommittally and resists the urge to take another glance back up. They do certainly have the look of two who get along. There’s a spark of hot envy in the back of his throat chased by a bitter touch of something he doesn’t quite want to place. It doesn’t surprise him that Ellana Lavellan has caught the eye of a man — and he wouldn’t begrudge her that either. He’s known her for less than a month and has no claim to any of her affections or attentions.

After all, Bull, himself, is not one to talk of dalliances and affairs. It would be hypocritical to a degree beyond anyone’s reasonable measure and the Iron Bull strives to be reasonable as often as possible.

But when he thinks on Ellana Lavellan and their few, but memorable, exchanges he feels that bitterness rise up to the forefront, past even the little ember of envy caught in his teeth.

It’s disappointment. Again, another thing he doesn’t have any reason or basis to have.

But he is disappointed. It had felt as though. Well. It felt as though there was something a little more profound developing between them. And then she had given that wager. Now he wonders if she meant any of it in sincerity or if she was just playing with him as a cat does with a mouse or goldfish. Again, Bull has no leg to stand on in regard to flirtation and the like. But he wasn’t flirting. Not for shallow amusement.

He did earnestly want to know Ellana better and, perhaps, find himself in her favor.

The possibility that Ellana did not mean it when she invited him to try, and that she had extended that possibility to him all the while content in warmth of another, stings.

It’s vexing, even.

It’s all fine to play and tease, as long as both parties know it. And the Iron Bull is certain that he was clear that he was not at play.

Again, he has no reason to feel this way. What does he know of Ellana Lavellan, after all? A woman he met at a garden party a fortnight and change ago? A woman he’s only spoken to a handful of times in total?

He ought not to be making assumptions about such a woman’s intentions and character, nor should he feel hurt or spurned when she shows behavior contrary to what he had assumed.

Bull glances back, but the pair have retreated deeper into the private box and are no longer visible from this angle.

The altus had been quite handsome, at least. So the two are well matched in terms of looks. He supposes that should take the sting out of it, although it’s quite a shallow reason. He turns forward again, watching as the orchestra begins to warm up. It shall have to suffice.

-

“Well, don’t you look utterly devastating,” Vivienne says, reaching out and curling some of the wig’s strands around her finger. “You are the only one I know who can powder their hair and make it look quite lovely and not at all dreary and…dull. It is a look that no one has dared to attempt in at least two decades. You wear it better than most of its most ardent fans.”

“Thank you,” Ellana says, smiling as she adjusts her domino, “Now. Before everyone else gets here, you must give me a preview at that guest list of yours.”

“I must, must I?” Vivienne raises an eyebrow. “Well. Perhaps we shall have to do an exchange, hm? If you’ve powdered your hair and are dressed in that spectacular cut of jacket and trousers — and I do seem to recall those ornaments about you from a few years ago — then you’ve come masquerading as your brother when he was playing at a woodland prince of faerie. Which means your brother is going to be in attendance as you. And the last time such a thing happened it was because your brother wanted to flirt and drive a certain lord quite mad and he succeeded quite well at it. So either your brother is off at his games again, or you’re up to something. Considering that you’ve recently made some subtle steps and nuanced invitations towards attending singles mixers, I do believe it is the latter. Tell me everything.”

“Everything, so soon? And spoil the game for you? Perish the thought,” Ellana replies. “All you need to know is that at some point tonight I might be borrowing your hedge maze.”

“It’s yours,” Vivienne replies instantly. “For the low, measly price of a name. Who is it?”

“Do you expect me to patronize you as though you don’t know?”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“The Iron Bull, who apparently, you are already in close acquaintance with. Are you going to warn me off him?”

“Not at all, I might have to warn him off of you, however,” Vivienne says. “Come along, I’ll give you three minutes with my guest list and not a second longer.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [528]

Ellana could quite easily count on her fingers the times she has been able to enjoy an intellectually stimulating, and equal, conversation with a member of the (so called) rougher sex and it is not at all an exaggeration of any sort to say she is disappointed that this particular discussion is cut short by the arrival of a messenger.

“Excuse me, miss, a letter for you.”

Ellana recognizes the colors the boy wears and smirks internally. She knew she was going to be getting an early invitation. Dorian Pavus owes her a matinee show at an Orlesian styled opera of her choice. Complete with the canons. Vivienne de Fer may currently be quite cross with Ellana over Ellana’s move to have her house sponsor one of the scholarships for de Fer’s favorite college this year and thus have sway over the final winners, the news of Ellana putting herself out as available for possible engagements would put Ellana back on the list of early invitees.

And of course, Dorian, again, will be given his invitation with the rest of the people Vivienne feels obligated to invite, rather than wants to invite.

Outwardly, Ellana smiles, thanks the young man, and sends him on his way with a gentle dismissal, before flipping the envelope over and privately crooning to herself over the Madame’s signature shimmering blue-gray wax seal on the thick paper.

“You have one, too?” the Iron Bull asks, “From the way de Fer spoke of you, I didn’t think. Well. If you have that invitation, I shouldn’t say more.”

“Too?” Ellana’s eyebrows lift up on her forehead as she turns back to her companion, “You received an early invitation to the Madame’s annual masquerade?”

“It was less an invitation, more of a command,” the Iron Bull’s mouth twitches up at the corner, “She said it’s been some time since she’s seen me put effort into my appearance. And considering that I have not appeared in front of de Fer in quite some time, I have a lot to work on to make sure I do not disappoint. Would it be a faux pas to ask where you plan on having your costume done? I’m familiar with who does what around here. At least, not anymore. Again, it has been some years since I’ve spent any extended amount of time inland and away from shore.”

“I can imagine there isn’t much use for tailors and costumes and seasonal garb when one is at sea and dealing with more immediate concerns such as scurvy and infectious diseases,” Ellana muses. “You know the Madame? And she is fond of you?”

“We have our moments,” the Iron Bull concedes. “And during one of the more recent of those moments, I have to confess to you lady, I did ask after you and her words were not as flattering as an early invitation would suggest.”

Ellana laughs, “Well. She’s rather cross with me at the moment. You see, when I was actively studying my field of study would sometimes run afoul of hers and, as you may have guessed, we had some conflicting theories. I have no particular interest in explaining all of the ways we had a clash of ideologies and wits, suffice it to say that it has left some…lingering tension. All of this aside, we must both recognize each other’s successes in a field dominated by. Well. To put it politely, gentlemen with a tendency to jabber about things already known to a degree of uttermost basic banality.”

“You put it very politely, lady Ellana,” the Iron Bull says, “I will admit, I would very much like to hear you say it impolitely as well. I imagine that you have several creative and accurate ways of saying that particular phrase in a much more satisfying way.”

Ellana fans herself with the heavy paper, “Flatterer.”

“Admirer,” the Iron Bull corrects.

“Is that what you are?”

“Would you permit it?”

“If I said no, then what?”

“Then flatterer it is,” the Iron Bull answers, “And we shall speak no more of it unless a whim or idle thought convinces you to voice it once more. Moving on, I doubt mutual respect is enough to put you on the early list of invitees to one of her soirees.”

“No, but I am also the subject of some very, very gripping gossip, and so the scales of her favor tip towards me once again. I am still very interested in how you got onto that particularly short and calculated list, however.”

“A story of another time,” the Iron Bull says. “You have yet to answer me about the question of a tailor. As you can guess, someone of my build requires a skilled one.”

Ellana stands up and walks to the small writing desk to the side of the room, pulling out a small bit of scrap paper from a letter she was writing to her cousin earlier — her brother had called her attention and she’d foolishly let a blot of ink spread and smear over the usual greetings — and writes a series of addresses on the clearer parts of the page.

“Here, Kaaras’ tailor, Herah’s preferred couture house whenever she’s in town, and my own preferred house. Tell them that I sent you,” Ellana says, handing him the page. The man examines it before folding it and tucking it into his pocket. “Let us make it a game, shall we? It is a masquerade, and that is the best time for games and frivolity. If I can find you before you can spot me, then I will ask you about how you know the hostess. But, if you can find me before I find you, then I shall speak again of this.”

Ellana gestures between them.

“You have an unfair advantage, Lady Ellana,” the Iron Bull points out, “No mask or costume is going to disguise who I am.”

Ellana hums, leaning her hip against the edge of the desk.

“Then this,” she decides, “My brother and I shall attend in matching costume. It is not unusual, we used to do this quite often. Usually when we are bored or lazy and have nothing else we would rather do. Mahanon has already said that we will re-hash one of our older costumes, though we will — of course — make some slight modifications to account for age and style. I will tell him that we shall use our faerie themed costumes, which is, not much of a costume as it is simply some shimmering fabric in jewel tones and some crowns of silk flowers with copper and gold wire branches.”

“That is not much of a lead.”

“No, but this part will be. Because I will go as my brother, and my brother shall go as me. And I can promise you that among Madame de Fer’s attendees, you will not find another elf with fair hair in a suit of green and crown of gold and silken roses,” Ellana says. “So I shall look for you, and all that you are, and you shall look for me with fair hair, a green suit, and a crown of roses. Easy, no?”

“If it is so easy, then why do you place such a wager on it?”

“Because,” Ellana answers, “It pleases me to. And I think it pleases you, too. Am I wrong?”

The Iron Bull’s eyes flash as his mouth twists into a wry smirk.

“You are far sharper than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Or perhaps they know better than to speak of it, lest they give me away,” Ellana points out. “Now. Back to our earlier conversation, if we can even find our way to it. Let us put thoughts of games and frivolities to the side, the masquerade is almost an entire month out, after all. Let the only game we think of be the chess match we were pretending to play earlier as we discussed the research of Vasca’s steam powered mechanisms.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [452]

“The Iron Bull is your.”

Alim stops there, staring her dead in the eye. Ellana waits for him to continue, but he just stares at her, expectantly.

“Boyfriend,” Ellana eventually says as the mounting silence and pressure grows to the point where even she feels uncomfortable.

(Half an hour of complete silence and consistent eye contact, give or take. This is the first time Ellana’s cracked before someone else though. This does not include the Iron Bull because she’s never tried to out wait him, usually when they do this she bursts out laughing within ten minutes because…feelings occur.)

“The Iron Bull is your boyfriend,” Alim says, “How did you meet?”

Ellana isn’t quite sure how she got into this situation.

One minute she was arguing with Lyna over a spot on the sofa. Lyna wanted to nap. Ellana contests it’s the perfect lighting for playing video games without eye strain. Lyna said that all video games give you eye strain. Ellana argues that not all video games…

Somewhere between then and now, Alim came into the room and started talking and Ellana can’t quite figure out that point in time. It’s like that plot point was completely erased from existence and she’s been dropped in medias res without any explanation. It’s quite confusing and very irritating. She would appreciate some more context to this situation without any cumbersome and overly annoying backtracking explanations.

“Is he good to you?” Alim asks.

This isn’t even a talk she’s had with her own parents.

“Yes.”

How is she related to Alim again? Cousins? Uncle? Nephew? She has no idea.

“Uh…Hahren.”

Alim slowly blinks, and then looks around as if to see if there’s anyone else she could be talking to.

Ellana does know that Lyna escaped this because her phone’s timer went off and she had to go check on the bread she was baking.

“Alim.”

“Right…Alim.”

“Are you good to him?” Alim asks.

“I think I am, but that’s honestly something you should ask him about,” Ellana says.

Alim nods once.

“You are honest. That’s a good trait to possess.” Alim nods again. “How did you meet your boyfriend?”

“It was a real meet cute.”

“That was not honest. Try again.”

“I think you’d really like him if you two could talk with each other or something. I…might have shot him with a bean bag from an experimental portable canon I was building. I might have had to take him to the ER. I also might have totaled his car.”

“Better.”

“I…might have been tricked into doing it by a mutual sometimes friend.”

“And?”

“How are you so good at this?”

Alim just smiles and Ellana has no idea how Neria’s been handling her war with this guy because Ellana would fold faster than a house of cards in a hurricane on rocky waters.

“And we worked together to get revenge on our mutual sometimes friend once we figured out what was going on.”

“The mutual friend was Zevran.”

“How did you know?”

Alim’s smile grows, “Zevran is my mutual sometimes friend also.”

Ellana throws her arms up. “We’re a cliche. Everyone in this house is a perfect example of an elven cliche.”

Alim leans back, crossing his thick arms over his powerful chest - Ellana still can’t believe how thick he is - and shrugs his broad shoulders.

“Zevran has a way of getting what he wants from people.”

“Has he ever gotten what he wants from you?”

“Plenty of times,” Alim answers. “Zevran and I know each other quite intimately.”

“Wait a hot Orleisan second, here. Is this a boyfriend talk? Because I’m going to come out and say it. Bull and I have had sex like…once and it was mutually agreed that it probably wouldn’t work out if we tried again. But you do you.”

“Zevran and I came to that conclusion after a few more tries than once. The experience was novel and not entirely unappreciated, but ultimately not something worth further pursuit.”

Ellana squints at Alim. Alim stares back.

“Is this you trying to be my new ace friend?”

“Is it?”

Ellana stands up and steps over the coffee table and bounces down next to him.

“This is me,” Ellana flings a leg over one of Alim’s freakishly huge thighs, “This is me marking my new ace friend territory. I’m claiming you as one of mine now. You don’t get to say anything.”

Alim unfolds his arms from across his chest and drapes one over her shoulder.

“This is me,” Alim says, “Accepting my new ace friend.”

“Nice, nice, nice,” Ellana says. “Hey, Alim? I’m still kind of like…fifty percent terrified of you. Seriously. Where are these genes in the family? How come I’m not as tall as you? Or as shredded? What do I have to do to be like that? You could crush me with you pinky. I feel it in my heart.”

“That’s survival instinct,” Alim says, “That is also a good trait to posses. Zevran told me I’d like you.”

“I don’t forgive him.”

Alim raises a single eyebrow. “I did not ask.”

“Right. Anyway. Uh. Was it boyfriend talk?”

“Only if you want it to be. I don’t know anyone else in the house very well. Just Neria. Also, Zevran and I are not boyfriends. I don’t particularly care for a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. We are friends, though.”

“Neat,” Ellana says. “I can introduce you to my brother. I think the two of you would get along really well. You’ve got the whole man of mystery thing going for you.”

“I do not mean to be mysterious.”

“Cousin, you’ve lived in seclusion on the top of a mountain for thirty years. I don’t even know if you are my cousin.”

“I have our family tree in my room. Do you want to look? I have it back at least four hundred years, back to when we were still related directly to the Sabrae.”

“What? Really?”

Alim looks faintly surprised, “I’m the family’s historian. I’m also a geneticist.”

“Living in the woods?”

“The Avaar nation puts a lot of resources into studying the genome and the various components of it.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [120]

“Evelyn,” Maxwell tilts his head up and back to look at the sky. “Evelyn, I think that it is entirely possible that I might - Well. I don’t know how to say this, actually.”

“It helps to just say it, Max,” Evelyn says, watching as Mahanon shows her a drawing he made in the dirt using his “sword”. Said sword is a sharp stick with a thorn attached to one end. It’s incredibly charming that Mahanon considers this a sword.

It’s also incredibly astounding how much damage he can and has done with said sword to things significantly larger, more dangerous, and generally better equipped than him.

Maxwell splays his fingers as Ellana makes games of gently looping and gliding through them, trailing pale pink and yellow lights behind her, laughing to herself as she weaves between his fingers and thumbs and palms as he slowly moves them. He squints a little against the blue of the sky and Ellana gives him an encouraging thumbs up and then rolls between his hands in little circles, tucked into a little heart-beat of a ball.

“Evelyn, I think that I might fancy men.”

“Excuse me?” Evelyn sputters. Maxwell risks a glance at her and grimaces. Evelyn looks like he’s just hit her with the hilt of his sword. “I - um. I - I don’t know what to - um. So - ah. Is there - is there any particular reason why you’re telling me this, Max?”

Maxwell has to give his cousin incredible credit for how quickly she’s moved from complete surprise to attempting to control her situation and provide him with support. Especially considering that Mahanon is now sulking over the lack of attention being given to his drawing in the dirt and is scratching over said drawing with his thorn-sword in a very sullen and petulant manner that Maxwell would probably get stabbed for if he said was adorable out loud.

Ellana solves his problem for him by gliding over to her fellow sprite and wrapping him in a hug and chattering at him in their own little language.

“Well,” Maxwell gestures at his sprite, “I mean. There must be a reason why she’s so attracted to the Iron Bull. On some level I must be attracted to him, too. I don’t think it’d be too much of a stretch, considering the types she’s been attracted to before.”

“People who could crush you with their bare hands without a second thought? Yes, Maxwell, I’m familiar with the sort she tends to run off after entirely besotted,” Evelyn muses. “Well - that can’t be true, because Mahanon has never approved of anyone who I’ve attempted to court or been courted by.”

“Untrue, he likes Cullen,” Maxwell replies.

Evelyn’s eyebrows raise, “Where do you get that impression?”

“He’s - always around him?”

“Cullen’s never had a sprite so I told him he could borrow Mahanon to get a feel for what it’s like to have one.”

“Ah, so you made Mahanon hang around the Commander.”

“Mahanon’s only stabbed him twice, very shallow. I’ve told Cullen that it’s a Mahanon thing, not a sprite thing. I’m not sure he’s sold on the whole thing,” Evelyn admits, sounding sheepish.

“Mahanon stabs people to show he cares,” Maxwell waves a hand, “You’re fine.”

“No, Max. He does not stab people to show he cares, he stabs people when he gets impatient with them and thinks they’re doing things badly,” Evelyn says, giving Maxwell a funny look.

“No, that can’t be true. Mahanon stabs me all the time when we’re together.”

“He what?”

“We’re not talking about you and Cullen, though. How does everything get back to you and Cullen? It’s like you’re - like you’re protagonists or something. This is about me for once, Evelyn, please stay on task.”

Evelyn frowns, looking perplexed but gestures for him to go on.

“So I think it’s possible that I might fancy the Iron Bull. I’m not sure,” Maxwell frowns, “I mean. I don’t see why I wouldn’t fancy a man of his. Ah. Stature.” Maxwell coughs into his fist, “It’s just. Ah. A little help, my more eloquent and well read cousin?”

“Maxwell, I don’t think you fancy the Iron Bull. I mean - I don’t want to tell you how you feel. But that’s not really the feeling I get when I see the two of you talking to each other,” Evelyn says, coming to sit next to him as their sprites play in the dirt.  “Have you ever felt anything for any other men?”

“Possibly? How am I to know?”

“Well. How do you feel about Cullen?”

“I’m not about to go flirting with your lover, Evelyn, if that’s what you’re going after.”

“Of course not, Maxwell. And even if you did, I wouldn’t really care. Cullen is a grown man who can make his own romantic choices.” Evelyn looks a little disturbed for a moment and Maxwell tilts his head.

“What?”

“Well. No offense. But I don’t think I’d want to be in a love triangle with you, Maxwell. If you really do turn out to fancy men and you take a fancy towards Cullen - and I mean if you fancied him quite a bit, I think I’d have to back off?”

“Why would you be the one backing off in that situation?” Maxwell twists to face her fully, “You two are already together!”

Evelyn studies her muddied boots, picking at some dried dirt as Maxwell studies the red flush of her ears.

“Maker’s breath, you two haven’t actually gotten together. All of this - this flirting and tension and obviousness and you two aren’t together at all. Evelyn, I’m so disappointed in you right now.”

“I thought we were talking about you and your potential feelings towards the Iron Bull?” Evelyn jabs Maxwell’s ribs with her elbow, “Come on. Focus.”

“You’re the one who asked if I had feelings towards Rutherford!”

“I’m trying to do a process of elimination here! So you don’t have feelings for Cullen?”

“None!”

“Alright - what about Solas?”

“No, he’s like - a very disapproving governess.”

“True, but - sometimes people find that attractive? He does have that air of control that most of Ellana’s fixations have.”

“Mmm, no. Feels different. Okay, so no on Cullen and Solas.”

“Blackwall?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Dorian?”

“Everyone loves Dorian. Dorian most of all and not enough. Possible maybe.”

“Fair,” Evelyn nods, looking towards the sky and biting her thumbnail, “Varric?”

“No.”

“Cole?”

“No offense to Cole, but not in a thousand years.”

“Krem?”

“Roguishly handsome, I suppose. But more like a fun friend,” Maxwell says after a moment of consideration.

“And how is the Iron Bull different?”

Maxwell groans and puts his head in his hands, “I don’t know? Ellana seems to think he’s the absolute cream of the crop and I have no idea why. At least with the Warden Commander and the Champion of Kirkwall it was easier to see why. Maker, why can’t she be more like Mahanon? He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about other people unless they piss him off first.”

“Please be careful what you wish for, Maxwell. I know it looks quite self contained from where you are considering that Ellana is liable to wander off at any given moment but I’ve had to stop Mahanon from exacting bloody revenge on five people in the past two days. He’s so prissy.”

[heartslogos]

send the morning [60]

“You know, traditionally, the man is supposed to be the one leading the dance,” Maxwell says about nine measures in when he’s regained his composure. He hopes that he looks slightly more put together and less of a gaping fish than the other dancers around them look. Surely he must.

Ellana raises a single elegant eyebrow, pressing her hand firmly against his waist as she guides them into a turn.

“Is that to say I am not the man in this relationship, Ellana?”

He’s certain that if there were any other dancers who were -

Well. Brave certainly shouldn’t be the most appropriate term, but he’s failing to think of another.

If there were any other dancers here brave enough to dance at a normal distance from them he’s sure they would be tittering about like overly scented and puffed up pigeons. Very puffy pigeons. Ruffled feathered breasts and such.

Ellana’s other eyebrow raises up to match the first.

“I apologize, Ellana. You’re right, traditional gender roles are pointless and stifling. There’s nothing gendered about dancing at all. Do carry on.”

Ellana’s smile grow from genial to beatific, hand squeezing his as she guides them through the somewhat complicated steps of a variation of a waltz he hasn’t had reason to remember for years.

She suddenly sharply turns them and Maxwell gets a glimpse of Cassandra’s - dare he say, think it? - bemused face for a split moment.

“Is this your way of saying I’m being quite absurd in not asking the woman I am most interested in courting to dance at the party of the year?”

Ellana hums, fingers tapping what is most probably a must you ask the obvious and is definitely a yes! on his side.

“Well, I’m going to tell you exactly what I told Herah and Josephine and Sera and Varric and everyone else who’s decided to be nosy,” Maxwell says. Ellana pointedly steps down hard on his toes. He has no idea how it hurts so much - he’s in actual sturdy shoes and she’s in - what. Slippers? Excuses for shoes?

“Alright, fine, you’ve broken me. I’m terrified of failure and I don’t want to have to go through the entire night trying not to break down into a pathetic sulk because she says no. Happy?”

Ellana’s flat gaze tells him otherwise.

“How long is this dance anyway?” Maxwell mutters. “I feel like it ought to be over by now. How do you even know this dance anyway? I didn’t know you knew human dances. Or cared to know.”

Ellana gives him a considering look as they move into a spin and a dip.

Just as Maxwell’s back is to her he feels her brush against his back, mouth to his ear and a warm exhale of breath -

“The Iron Bull taught me.”

Maxwell’s mind blanks out as she dips his pliant and soulless body. Part of him admits she’s timed that wonderfully. His knees and legs as well as everything else has lost feeling and he doubts he’d have been able to stay up.

She pulls him up and it’s purely gravity and momentum and her that keeps him from falling.

“Wha?” Maxwell’s mouth falls open.

Ellana’s smile has moved from beatific to dazzling in so many ways. She begins to lead him off the dance floor.

“Even if you told everyone else that I can talk,” She says, “No one would believe you. You have no witness.”

Maxwell’s mind gathers itself together some time later and he has no recollection of between then and now, because he’s currently dancing with Malika - midway through some sort of tango hybrid - and she’s giving him very concerned looks.

“Malika, my friend, my darling, my sweet, my terrifying bastion of certainty and terrible platitudes,” Maxwell says - his entire face feels numb - , “Can you hit me as hard as you can in the head? I think somethings been knocked loose and I’d like to make sure.”

-

“Normally,” Mahanon says, tapping his finger on his knee as he stares down at his sister from his perch in the tree, “We like to avoid thinking about our forced marriage as much as possible.”

Kaaras looks between the two elves, unsure if maybe this is a sign that something is wrong or not.

“But this year Ellana has dissolved that bond and I think maybe we ought to celebrate our first year of living a reasonable life of not being married to your sibling after almost a dozen years of being married to our sibling,” Mahanon says. Ellana looks up from where she was watching some bees buzzing around the shrubbery and bats fondly at Mahanon’s dangling foot.

“Suggestions, Kaaras?” Mahanon says as the two elves engage in what looks like to be a game of Ellana trying to hold Mahanon’s foot still as he waves it back and forth.

The action seems strangely innocuous and entirely too - well. Serene? Placid? Sanguine? for the two.

Kaaras isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the two play. At least not with each other in such a non-violent way.

“I’m - I’m not so s-sure why you-you’re asking m-me,” Kaaras says, confusion making his tongue feel like wood in his mouth. He grimaces.

“Of the three of us here and present - the three of us who matter -,” Mahanon makes sure to clarify, considering that there are plenty of other people in the garden. Kaaras frowns. Mahanon rolls his eyes. “Fine. Of the three of us people here who’s opinions are relevant to the topic at hand - better?”

“Yes.”

“Of the three of the aforementioned people - “

“Dorian’s vocabulary is beginning to affect yours.”

“Never let him know.”

Kaaras smiles. “Alright.”

“Point being, of the three of us - you’re the only one with a generally normal thought process. So. Ideas?”

“Y-you want a normal idea for a peculiar sit-situation?”

“Yes.”

Kaaras considers a few things he could say in protest to this.

He shrugs, “Dinner?”

“We eat all the time.”

“I - I mean. A special one. Just the t-two of you. Maybe you make it together?”

Mahanon hums, “Is that something you would like to do, eventually?”

“I don’t think Dorian cooks.”

“That’s fine, he can provide the hot air.”

Kaaras and Ellana both laugh.

“Yes,” Kaaras says.

“So it’s - nice?”

“Yes.”

“Sister? Your thoughts on this suggestion provided by the one person between the three of us who has a normal understanding of how relationships typically work.”

Ellana idly bats at Mahanon’s ankle before shrugging, and then nodding. She gives Kaaras an encouraging smile.

“Very well. Tell us, Kaaras - in this scenario, is hunting and killing dinner part of it?”

[heartslogos]

pull the morning out of the night [81]

Dorian wakes to a hand covering his mouth - not the first time, to be honest -, and the cat-like mirror eyes of an elf above him - now that one is a first. The spell in Dorian’s hands doesn’t quite dissipate so much as it’s cancelled out and the hand presses firmer against his mouth.

The faint light from the hand held to the elf’s face quickly resolves the situation.

Ellana holds a half-illuminated finger to her lips.

Both sides of her face appear to be her own.

Dorian nods slowly, cautiously, and Ellana draws back, pulling her hand away. She’s covered in a traveling cloak, and she moves quickly to the next bed to repeat the process with Krem, gamely dodging the half-reflexive punch the man throws out before waking fully.

Dorian wants to ask what’s happening but Ellana moves silently and quickly, gesturing for them to get dressed - tugging at her own cloak and pointing at them - and then to follow her she indicates her head towards the door before sliding out as softly and unnoticeably as she came in. A very strange and particular sort of dream, Dorian thinks.

Krem glances at him and Dorian shakes his head.

Not a clue.

These days, no one has a single clue to be found or scraped together or bartered about.

(There was a man that Ellana lost, this Dorian knows. Dorian thinks that his name was Mahanon. Dorian thinks that this Mahanon was also a slave of the Raven Twins. Dorian thinks, Dorian guesses - that he wasn’t just killed. Ellana did not experience something so clean and quickly ended as the loss of a loved one to death. Kill is probably not a strong enough word for what this Mahanon was made to do. Kill is probably not a word Ellana would go to war over.

He does not think that the word kill would have driven her this far or to this extent.

Dorian hesitates to use the word murder. It seems too uncanny. Too much an unkindness. )

Ellana is waiting, hood drawn up in the living room - Stitches and Grim are the last to join them.

Ellana slowly raises a hand and spells out in the air - in the common of the rest of Thedas -

“We are leaving.”

To Dorian’s knowledge there is still one last day left, and the closing ceremonies.

Ellana waves her hand to erase the glowing words in the air and replaces them with new ones.

“We go ahead. The others will declare war. We cannot be here for it.”

Dorian’s eyebrows raise in surprise - if they were going to declare war over Ellana’s behavior, and what Dorian understands of her metamorphosis, he thought they would have done that four days ago.

Varric gestures at Ellana.

Ellana shakes her head.

“Flemeth will cause this war,” Ellana writes out, “Come. We go. We cannot speak here.”

Dorian resists the powerful urge to ask, Will we ever speak?

Dorian wonders, increasingly often, how many of Ellana’s promises she intends to keep - not in general, there is something about Ellana that screams to the bitter truth of keeping an oath. Ellana will keep every promise she has ever made for better or for worse. Even the ones she does not like. There is a quality about her that says she will grind her teeth and put her head down and dig straight into the nastiness of it. But she will do it. She will drag herself by the hair to do it. What Dorian wonders is not whether or not Ellana will keep it. He wonders if she will keep those promises in their lifetime.

There is a myth Dorian remembers about the Wolf and the slow arrow.

There is more than one way to keep a promise.

Ellana pulls up her hood and they silently follow suit.

This is not the time or place for questions, and they know it. As before, they are blind and have no real options to choose from.

Ellana guides them through the twists and turns of the darkened halls. By miracle or divine - literally divine, he thinks - intervention, they run into no one.

Ellana leads them to the grand eluvians they came through before,  where a pair of Sentinels - Dorian recognizes one as a Wolf and the other as a Crafter - stand guard and bow before her.

“It is ready,” The Wolf’s Sentinel says, “They are waiting for you and your house on the other side.”

“I do not see you or your house, your are but passing air to me,” The Crafter’s Sentinel says and both of them turn to activate the gate.

Ellana turns to them, and in the darkness of the early morning Dorian cannot make out the face she makes before turning away again.

The portal ripples to life, and Ellana walks through.

They follow, and are immediately set upon by hands guiding them towards mounts.

“We must hurry,” A Wolf’s sentinel says as Dorian is rushed up onto a stag. “We are to close all eluvians leading to the other realms and then lock the ones to the higher temples. The Ascendant must be in place before then.”

“In place?” Bull asks.

“She must be seated on the throne of the Wolf,” Another sentinel says, “She must hold the realm until the Wolf returns.”

“I thought you lot were trying to avoid war,” Krem says.

“Just because we are doesn’t mean the rest of them aren’t,” A sentinel says. “Enough talk. We go.”

“Mythal intends to announce her Ascendant’s identity,” Ellana says barely audible over the sound of hooves, pulling her mount close to theirs as they begin to ride through the darkness, “Normally it is not a cause to go to war. But you have seen Mythal. You know she is not of the people of Arlathan.”

“She’s human, you mean,” Skinner says.

“Once, perhaps,” Ellana says, “When she became Mythal she became divine, as I become divine. Not elf. Not human. Something else. But once she was a human woman from your lands.  It was after she received Mythal’s divinity that she rose to join us in Arlathan. This was almost six hundred years ago, roughly. I do not remember much of it, aside from the scandal and the pity. Mythal’s entire house was in shambles for centuries before and after. Mythal’s lands have been out of sorts for a very long time, it is only recently that they have returned to something close to the glory they had in the previous ages.”

“Six hundred?” Stitches repeats, “You remember something from six hundred years ago?”

Which of course, prompts the question -

“How old are you exactly, Ellana?” Varric says.

Because it is strange to think of someone as ageless - somehow it means that they will always exist, have always existed. But to look so young and to be so timeless - you forget. Dorian forgets, frequently, that these people are immortal, long lived - and then they say something like six hundred years and such and his world tips to the side just a bit.

“I will be reaching my tenth century mark soon,” Ellana answers, “I was around four hundred at the time and more focused on my studies. The world of politics was not one I had been truly indoctrinated into yet.”

“Tenth century?” Dorian repeats, “As in one thousand years?”

“Give or take,” Ellana says. “My age isn’t what’s important here. Mythal intends to announce the one who will take her place. It will be a mortal human. I know not the identity other than that she is one of her many daughters existing in the lower realms and that she is a mage.”

“Maker’s balls, cock and arse,” Krem says.

“Throw in liver, spleen, and gall bladder,” Ellana says. “Because it gets worse. And to talk about the worse, we need to be inside friendly walls. Ride.”