#but me and the few solas fans i follow are having a blast

[lavellaned]

[little-lightning-lavellan]

NEW CHAPTER! KISSING???

Between getting Covid and this chapter ending up twice as long as originally intended (I had very important things I needed to make sure were communicated, okay?), this took a hot minute to get out. But, I hope it was worth the wait, because after 128197 words... it happens. 👀 Here be a snippet right before it all goes down:

“You know that I’ve got a good memory, ma fen, you know that. I don’t forget things easily,” She was back to nicknames, it would seem. “Well, do you know what Garrett Hawke told me when he first arrived?”

Had she scooted closer? No, that was just the way the shadows cast across them from over the wall. Surely, there was no other explanation.

“Tell me.”

“He told me,” A snort. A snort! Mellan covered her nose with one hand and squeezed Solas’ with the other, eyes closed and face cast to the ground. “He told me, that my symptoms - oh, you won’t believe a word of this - that they mean, that I’m smitten with you!”

Solas’ eyes felt wobbly.

Ah, well--that was a new sensation. He wasn’t altogether sure he’d felt that before; not in a context like this, at any rate.

Give him the credit of maintaining his composure, the world within him shook with greater violence than a Titan fighting against the bonds of--

Is this how adolescents felt? Real, true, young people? Was it always so stifling hot?

“Oh, and Solas? Solas, the best part. You’ll find this funny,” Did she even realize he wasn’t laughing? Of course not, ragged hand covered giggling mouth and she hadn’t looked up to him once since she’d started. Was he to stop her? Let her continue? Did this manner of ‘announcement’ count towards that finish line he had promised he would meet her at one day? Was this the correct path?

Ironically, she was a balter from his own path, but an enrapturing one that left him dumbstruck with each new revelation of hers. Like an impatient reader he wanted to skip ahead just a few of her pages. Have her spoil the story and tell him what lay ahead.

“He said that,”

‘What comes next?’

“That you were a ‘lucky guy;’ that we were more than dear friends.” Another giggle and their shared fate was sealed. “As if, oh, my goodness, as if you were smitten with me as well!”

Mellan shook her head for a final time, before, at last, she raised it up to meet Solas’ eyes.

“But, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

She hadn’t actually thought much on what she expected to see when she opened her eyes. Perhaps a smile, a shared laugh, but not a stare. Not a look from her friend that held something deep and lurking just beneath the surface of murky waters.

Not something that made her wonder if the petname she’d given him of ‘fen’ was a bit too apt, and that if she moved too quickly, some emotion would snap; and oh, dear, Mellan was nowhere near ready for whatever that emotion might be.

“W-Wouldn’t it?” Had she actually spoke aloud, or simply thought the words? Mellan supposed she might have mouthed them, let them fan across her teeth. It took a real gulp of purest bravery for her to truly speak heartily again. “S-So, um, academically. Academically… my symptoms.”

‘Spirits, even my nose feels like it's on fire; I probably look like a tomato to him. Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Why couldn’t I just learn the blasted dance and be done with it all?!’

“Thought? Your thoughts?”

Peculiar, even by their standards, Solas held a single chuckle in his chest. Barely hiding his lip, he rested fingers upon it to shield the smallest smile as he turned to think.

“My thoughts,” he began, a twinge of well-measured mirth to his tone. “Are that Ser Hawke is far more attentive than I gave him credit for.” And that he could now confirm that he had been a right prick to the man, but that was neither here nor there at this point. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mellan take a gulp for air, most likely absorbing the information he had technically-not-confirmed - and, therefore, was still following his own personal set of rules - but, also not at all denied. The blessing was that he knew she was smart, and that she knew precisely what he was getting at, all with his plausible deniability still perfectly intact.

He still was just as much of a prick, wasn’t he?

“A--hm,” She nodded, readjusting herself yet again, back straightening. Solas could see how her shoulders rolled back beneath her braids like branches beneath leafy willows, how her chest rose and fell across the skin exposed above her ill-fitting tunic. “I see. So, then, I suppose you are suggesting that Garrett’s observation was, ah, correct?”

“No, I am declaring it.” To him it was not a subject for debate.

Read the rest here on Ao3!

I hope you guys are excited and enjoy because holy moly I’ve been fucking amped for this jerhbuerbgueibguearburbygber I really hope it was worth the wait and this chapter is enjoyable D’x Love y’all!!

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[fallintothegrey]

Dusk Till Dawn - Chapter 9

Also on AO3.

Rey hadn’t spoken to him in two weeks. Not that they’d really had time—he’d been busy with rebuilding Black Squadron and she’d been busy doing whatever the last Jedi did—but he missed talking to her. She had become a steady presence in his life and her sudden absence left him uneasy.

He wanted to talk to her about what had happened, too. No, he needed to talk to her about it. She had thrown him against a wall, completely paralyzing him, and only stopped when he’d tapped into whatever connection they had and yelled to her. Had he pulled her back? The rational voice in his head told him that was impossible, but Rey hearing his nightmares was already impossible, so maybe he didn’t know what was possible anymore.

He’d been scared when she pinned him to the wall, terrified even, but he’d known the whole time that she wouldn’t hurt him. It wasn’t like when he’d been captured by the First Order and tortured by Kylo Ren, when he knew in his bones that he was going to die—until he didn’t. No, he’d known, even as he watched the snarl twist Rey’s mouth, that she would come back, that she would let him go.

He needed her to know that. Finn told him how shaken she was, how she thought she was a monster. And he’d seen it on her face, when she wouldn’t meet his eyes, wouldn’t return his smile, would only stare at the ground with shame on her face. He needed to tell her that she wasn’t a monster, that she never could be.

But he didn’t know when he’d ever get the chance to talk to her. He could never find her alone long enough to get her to talk to him. She constantly had a companion, usually Finn, Rose, or Chewie, no matter what she was doing—training, working on the Falcon, meditating. She didn’t engage with them as she had with him during their ill-fated training session, but they were always there. Like they were waiting for something. Waiting to pull her back.

He looked over to the Falcon from his position near Ebon One. Rey sat on the ground meditating, the broken lightsaber in her lap again. He wondered if it made her feel closer to Luke when she held it, if it let her reach out to him somehow. If she could feel Skywalker, receive guidance from him from wherever Jedi went after death, he envied her. The thought consumed him as he absentmindedly stroked the ring around his neck. He could use some guidance right now from someone he’d lost far too soon.

Rose sat on a crate near her, tinkering with an engine part, paying no attention to her charge. She looked up suddenly and caught Poe looking at them before he could drop his gaze. She smiled knowingly at him and waved. He sheepishly waved back before turning to the X-wing, his cheeks beginning to burn.

“You’ve got it bad, Dameron,” Jessika quipped as she reached around him to grab a wrench, playfully bumping him with her hip.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Pava,” he ground out as he fiddled with some wiring on the third laser cannon.

“Uh-huh,” she laughed. “You’re so obvious, Threnalli’s even figured it out and he usually couldn’t pick up on social cues even if they were a herd of nerfs running right at him.”

Poe turned on his squad mate. “Pava, she’s a friend. That’s it. We could all use more friends right now.”

Jessika rolled her eyes. “Sure, Poe.” She set down the tool and started to walk away. She yelled back over her shoulder, “You might want to come to the common room later. Snap found something you might be interested in.”

He watched his friend leave, trying not to think too hard about what she’d said, before turning back to his work. Within moments, he found his eyes wandering back to Rey. Grumbling at himself, he threw his pliers down and stalked out of the hangar.

He wasn’t going to go in the common room. He loved his squad, he really did, but he couldn’t take much more of their ribbing right now. He just wanted to get some sleep, if that was even possible. The nightmares had gotten worse again; he tried to convince himself that it had nothing to do with this—whatever this was—going on, or not going on, between him and Rey. So he intended to just go to his quarters, take a sleeptab or five, and pass out.

That is, until he passed the common room and heard strumming. Horrible strumming.

He ducked into the room to find Snap holding a guitar. It was horrifically out of tune and one of the strings looked like it would break at any minute, but it was a guitar nonetheless. And he hadn’t seen one since he was still in the Navy.

“Where did you find that?” he asked, gesturing to the instrument.

“The Chadra-Fan smuggler I was trading with for fuel gave it to me—he didn’t have any use for it.”

“And what are you doing with it? You’ve got as much musical talent as a Runyip.”

“Dosh off, you son of a Kath hound. You take it then,” he said, shoving the guitar into Poe’s chest. He ran his hands over the instrument, gingerly plucking the strings. He tuned it as best he could, but he’d never been the greatest at tuning by ear. It was passable, though.

His fingers danced over the strings, playing little bits of all of the songs that suddenly flooded his head. It had been so long since he’d played, he didn’t even know where to start.

He settled on a light, lilting melody, humming along to the verse. “You came close enough to know my heartbeat,” he sang softly to himself, “but still not close enough to me.”

“Louder,” he heard Jess yell as she plopped into a chair, feet up on the table.

He rolled his eyes but complied. She wouldn’t stop if he didn’t.

          “Through the good times and the bad           You were the best I never had           The only chance I wish I had to take           There was no writing on the wall           No warning signs to follow           I know now, and I just can’t forget           You’re the best I never had”

He stopped abruptly, to much protesting from the squad. “Why’d you stop, Dameron?” Karè cried. “You know we love your angelic voice.” She waggled her eyebrows at him.

He set the guitar down on a table, hand lingering on the neck “I’m just not feeling it tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

Just then, Finn, Rose, and Rey walked in. He stopped in his tracks, watching them take in the guitar and his grip on it with a mixture of surprise from Finn, excitement from Rose, and wariness from Rey.

“Now you’ve gotta play, Poe. We’ve heard you sing before, but they haven’t,” Snap said, gesturing to the new arrivals.

“Oh, please, Poe,” Rose exclaimed, “we’d love to hear you. Right?” She looked from Finn to Rey.

“Yeah, sure,” Finn answered before sitting next to Jess. Rey just nodded before walking to the chair in the far corner. Rose looked after her with sad eyes before going to sit by Finn.

He reluctantly picked the instrument back up, fiddling with the tuning pegs a bit to keep his eyes from wandering to the girl in the back of the room, keep his attention from the clenching in his stomach.

He couldn’t believe he was nervous. He was Poe kriffing Dameron. He’d faced down the blasted First Order nearly singlehandedly before, but the thought of singing one little song had him feeling like he was a rookie pilot.

He sat on the table Jess had her feet on and settled the guitar in his arms. He looked over the room at his comrades, his friends, with encouraging smiles on their faces.

Except for her—she just kept her gaze on her hands and her expression unreadable.

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, wracking his brain for something to sing.

It hit him like a stun blast. Memories flooded his mind—of his mother and father singing while they cooked dinner, their voices blending to tell the mournful tale of a man who lost his lover and could only find comfort in the mourning dove that visited his window.

He strummed a few chords, making sure he remembered how it went. Then he took a deep breath and began.

          “Dicen que por las noches no más se le iba en puro llorar           Dicen que no comía, no más se le iba en puro tomar.           Juran que el mismo cielo se estremecía al oír su llanto.           Cómo sufrió por ella, que hasta en su muerte la fue llamando.”

As he sang, he was transported back to the Yavin 4 of many years ago. The warm light of the sunset poured into the kitchen as he played with spare droid parts his mother had handed to him to keep him distracted while she and his father made dinner. His father started the song, coaxing it out of his mother with a kiss.

          “Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba,           Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay gemía,           Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay cantaba,           De pasión mortal moría.”

His mother’s soprano lilted over the words, while his father’s baritone anchored the song to the earth of their kitchen. He could see the love, the adoration in his father’s eyes as he watched his wife.

          “Que una paloma triste muy de mañana le va a cantar           A la casita sola con sus puertitas de par en par           Juran que esa paloma no es otra cosa más que su alma           Que todavía espera a que regrese la desdichada.”

His father guided his mother’s hands to set the knife down, leaving her chopping behind. They joined in a slow, bittersweet dance, resting their foreheads together as they sang, breath and notes mixing. Then they turned to Poe, lifting him up and clutching him to them as they finished the song. He remembered laughing at the vibrations of the dove’s mournful calls in their chests as they held him.

          “Cucurrucucú paloma, cucurrucucú no llores.           Las piedras jamás, paloma, ¿qué van a saber de amores?           Cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú, cucurrucucú,           Cucurrucucú, paloma, ya no le llores.”

As his fingers stopped, he could feel the warmth of their arms around him. Silent tears slid down his cheeks, but he quickly dashed them away as he set down the guitar. He was greeted first by stunned silence, then enthusiastic clapping and some cheers and whistles, particularly from Jess and Finn. He offered them a half-hearted smile, bowing slightly. As he straightened, he noticed Rey staring at him, tears shining in her eyes. He nodded to her, and for the first time in two weeks, she tried to smile at him.

He stood and walked towards the door, amid calls of “Encore, encore!” He waved them off, saying, “That’s it for tonight. I have to leave you wanting more.”

He stepped into the hall to find General Organa leaning against the wall. He pulled himself to attention. “General,” he saluted.

“Cut the crap, Dameron,” she said with a laugh. “When have we ever been that formal?”

Poe shrugged. “I have to set a good example for my team.”

“Yeah, right, Poe,” Karé yelled from the common room.

He winced as Leia laughed, “Some good example.” Her smile faded as she reached out and set her hand on his arm. “You got your father’s voice, I hear.”

He self-consciously smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I remember hearing them sing that song,” she said, her eyes softening at the memory. She moved her hand to cup his cheek. “She would be so proud of you.”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling tight. “Thank you, General.”

“I’m going to get you some leave time soon, so you can go see your father. I know he’s worried about you.”

“I shouldn’t leave the Resistance, General. My team needs me.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I think they’d be fine. But I know you’re as stubborn as Shara and Kes combined, so I won’t fight you. I’ll work on getting you a secure comm link to him at the very least.”

“That’s very kind of you, General,” he said with a smile.

She returned his smile, before her face turned serious again. “Walk with me, Commander. I need to discuss an upcoming mission with you.”

He followed Leia, glancing back into the common room as they passed. He smiled when he saw that Rey had moved to join everyone else, laughing with Rose and Karé at some joke Finn and Snap were telling, before turning his attention back to Leia.

A/N: The first song Poe sings is "Never Had" from the movie 10 Years. A clip from the movie that features Oscar singing this song can be found here.

The second song is "Cucurrucucu Paloma". A video of Oscar singing this song with Gaby Moreno can be found here.

[personagf-moved]

celestial | iv. dreams

PREVIOUS PARTS: INTRO. | i. WHAT YOU TAKE / ii. THE TRAITOR / iii. TESSELLATE

"Run, and don't look back!" Cassian roared over the explosions, dust and rubble raining down from above.

Alma was sprinting down the street, hands shaking as she raised her blaster, gunning down any stormtrooper who got in her way.

Her dark eyes darted across the crowded street; only minutes earlier she had been walking down this way, on her way home. Now, innocent civilians were screaming in horror, caught in the crossfire of the rebellion and the empire.

"Cass!" Alma cried out, turning around to shoot a stormtrooper just before he threw a grenade in their direction. They both watched as the blast engulfed him, taking any other soldier in white who was unlucky enough to be close by.

Alma watched the flames dance and twist in the breeze. Her breath came out uneven as she asked, "What do we do now?"

"We keep running." Cassian replied solemnly, before bumping her shoulder with his blaster, urging her to keep going.

Alma was close behind, but as hard as she tried to tune it out, the soldier's cries of agony rang through the chaos, following her deeper and deeper into the battle.

___

The ship hummed as they darted through the galaxy.

They had made it back just before the explosions shook the planet, war tearing apart the once beautiful city. Alma watched from the window as the flames swallowed it whole, before they went into hyper space.

She leaned back against the unforgiving metal, feeling the vibrations in her skull as she closed her eyes, letting sleep take her.

Cassian sat next to her, watching as she fell into a fitful slumber. She shuffled every few seconds, face contorting in agony before easing back to a neutral expression.

He sighed, knowing what dreams she must be having, he'd been having the same ones since they were children. Imagining everyone you love die is a horrible nightmare, but the real horror is waking up and realizing that your dreams are reality.  

Despite it all, he still couldn't believe that she was here. Before, he thought about the torture she must've been enduring under the Empire, and he used that anger as motivation for fighting back, to avenge everyone they took from him. But now, as he watched her breathe and dream, he felt something new.

Alma woke with a start, gasping for breath. She looked around wildly, and Cassian immediately moved to calm her, reassure her that he was there.

"Hey, it's okay," Cassian murmured, grabbing her shoulders, rubbing them gently. "You're safe."

She stared at him, the look of panic still on her face as she tried to slow her breathing. Shaking her head, she mentally cursed herself as the tears started again.

Cassian immediately pulled her into his arms, and he told her to close her eyes, to go back to sleep, but he didn't know that every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was the little girl, hazel eyes still alive as they stared off into the light.

___

"Alma," he whispered, "we're here."

Cassian gently placed a hand on her shoulder, waking her up. She slowly leaned forward, in complete awe as the ship landed on Yavin 4.

It was dusk, so she could only see the sun fading under the great mountains, but the last strain of light spread over the base, casting a warm glow over the vine covered temple. All around pilots and soldiers rushed to their stations; Alma couldn't find one person who was standing still.

"Come on," Cassian smiled, amused by the look of amazement on her face as she processed it all. Silently, she took his hand, following him out of the ship.

The bustle was even louder and more hectic as they made their way through the crowd. From all over, people called out to Cassian, some waving while others clapped him on the shoulder, welcoming him back.

Alma, out of habit, pulled the shawl over her head, absentmindedly tugging it over the right side of her face as the others began to look. Back then, she got used to people's stares lingering on her scars, she learned to ignore them as she walked on, but now, she had to start all over again.

Cassian, however, was too preoccupied by what a pilot was saying, updating him on what he missed while he was away. He led the pair to the main headquarters, shoving through various species of rebels to finally reach the center of the room.

There, a female humanoid stood with her back facing the three humans, arguing with a tall man of dark hair and tanned skin, looking over maps projected into the air.

She wore a long hooded cape as black as night, but with the hood down, Alma recognized her to be Togruta, and it wasn't until she turned around that her identity was confirmed.

Alma could only stare in disbelief, eyes wide as the Togruta beheld both her and Cassian.

"This is the one I've been telling you about," Cassian began, gesturing over to Alma, who still held the look of bewilderment on her face.

"Alma Halding," she smiled, "Cassian's spoken highly of you for quite some time. Are, you okay?" she asked, noticing the young woman's surprise.

"You're...Ahsoka Tano," Alma breathed.

Cassian grinned then. He had forgotten the tales Alma used to tell him as children. She would meet him in their castle, teeming with stories her parents had shared with one another after their missions. They tried to keep Alma from hearing them, afraid that she would be alarmed by the violence of it all, but she always put her ear against the door, hid around the corner, anything to hear about the adventures they had. They were Rebels before it even became a part of their vocabulary, members of the government who secretly worked with other spies to maintain peace across the galaxy.

Cassian remembered the day she came running, out of breath as she spoke of a great padawan named Ahsoka Tano, who had defected from the Jedi, but was a gifted fighter and stronger than she believed.

He watched Alma now, practically giddy with excitement as Ahsoka laughed, "I am."

"I'm sorry," Cassian said, "I'd forgotten how big of a fan she is."

Alma could feel the heat rushing to her face, nudging his arm with her elbow as he snickered. "Stop it," she grumbled, but smiled anyway as he kept on laughing. "I just heard stories about you, that's all."

"All good ones I hope," Ahsoka replied, and when Alma nodded she averted her gaze to the shawl, "you're safe inside now, you don't need to hide your face from us all."

Alma's smile faltered. She looked around the room, realizing that no one was staring besides Cassian and Ahsoka. So she hesitantly reached up and pulled down the fabric, watching as Ahsoka's eyes landed on the scars.

"What have they done to you?" she murmured.

Alma blinked, finding the courage to speak through Cassian's warmth as he leaned against her shoulder. "Enough to make me want to fight back." she replied, finally meeting the Togruta's eyes.

Ahsoka grinned, "Then you'll fit right in."

___

She had left an hour later, informing Alma and Cassian of other Rebel bases she had to sort out business with.

But before she left, she, along with General Draven, gave the green light to recruit Alma. Cassian knew they would approve, but it was still a matter of formality they had to go through. He was overjoyed, but even though Alma matched his excitement, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was bothering her, that her being allowed to stay just wasn't sitting right with her.

He helped her settle in to her quarters anyway, giving her fresh clothes and supplies, and after, he was about to walk out and give her time to get settled, but before he could close the door she called out to him, "Cass, wait."

He hesitated, but stepped back in the room, closing the door behind him as she beckoned for him to sit next to her.

Feeling the hard mattress give way to his bodyweight, he looked over to see the glazed look in Alma's eyes.

There was a silence that hung over the both of them as she tried to find the right words, but after a few moments, she whispered, "when you found me, you saw the girl I was holding."

Cassian nodded. He spoke the words so she wouldn't have to, "her name was Sola. She volunteered to find you, insisted upon it, really. "

He felt her body tense against his shoulder, but he continued, "Lost her parents when she was 6, like us. Lost her brother and sister a few years after that. When I found her, she was alone, living off scraps she could scavenge off of civilians. The girl was dying."

Alma blinked, feeling the moisture running down her cheeks.

"But she became a soldier. Lost her childhood, but we all did too. When she died, she died knowing that she had found you, Alma. Had found hope."

She looked up at him then, "What do you mean?"

Cassian whispered,"One day, during her training, something broke in her. She never told me what was wrong, but I think it's better she didn't.

"She asked me, 'why do you get up everyday? why do you still fight?' and, for a while, I didn't think I could give her an answer. I thought about everything that happened, to my family, to our home, to you, and I just couldn't see past my anger.

"But, instead, I told her about you, about our little castle on a cloud," he glanced over at her then, both smiling as they remembered the fort. "I told her that after everything we endured, every life we lost, I still had you. Of course, she asked where you were, and I had to tell her. She had no one else, Alma. So she wanted to help, to make sure I wouldn't be alone..."

Cassian stopped, trying to compose himself as he felt his grief finally pour in, the tight feeling in his chest that he had been trying to fight off since he saw the child's body in Alma's arms. He didn't think he cared that much, didn't know that the little girl had left such an impression on him, but as Alma rested her head against his shoulder, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, he was finally able to just feel.

" She told me," He turned to look down at Alma, who met his tearful gaze, " that she'd help me find my hope. "

They were both silent then, holding on to each other as they were left to their thoughts.

"Stay tonight, please." Alma whispered, knowing how late it was.

Cassian only nodded, following her body as they lay down on the bed, her head resting on his heart as they stared at the ceiling.

After a long silence, Cassian finally spoke, "Before, I thought I was just fighting for revenge, and maybe...maybe that's how it started. But now... Now I know it's not all for hate. It's for you, for the future... for hope."

Alma held him tighter, feeling his arm wrap around her body, pulling her in close.

That night, Cassian dreamed of a long, dark tunnel. He saw himself running, trying to reach the light at the end. He didn't know what was behind him, it was too dark to see, but it didn't matter, because all he knew was that he had to reach the figure standing in the bright light. They were calling his name, trying to grab his hand as he reached out.

Before their fingers could brush, he fell forward, and suddenly he was swimming in stars, watching as ships passed him by, planets orbiting all around. The voice still called out to him, but it was soon drowned out by a bell, ringing and crashing in his ears.

When he awoke, he immediately reached out for Alma, who was now on her side, facing the other direction as she slept. As he leaned into her warmth, he felt her body rise and fall gently, her breathing pattern slowly lulling him back to sleep.

Alma dreamt too, but it wasn't a bell that haunted her.

In her dreams, she was alone in a crowded room of strangers.

Their eyes surrounded her, calling her a collaborator, a coward, a traitor.

[jentrevellan]

SUMMARY: Cullen’s POV to the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition. Cullen x Lyla Lavellan (Mage)! One-sided Solas romance! Some in-game scenes expanded! Plus lots more to come! Reblogs, likes and replies are loved. ^^ **Updated every 2 weeks!**

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

-> Read on Ao3 -> Read on FF -> Artwork by @anafigreen​

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Hawke's Influence

The report in my hand is all that occupies my mind as I walk through Skyhold to the war room. The disappearance of the Grey Wardens is now becoming common knowledge and my concern prickles. Whilst the Blight is ten years gone, the sign of the dragon or archdemon flying above Haven has set everyone wondering where the Wardens are. I can’t help but mirror Leliana’s concern. I’m so engrossed that I bump straight into Lyla as she leaves Solas’ rooms.

“Oh!” she gasps.

“Inquisitor! I, ah, I’m sorry, are you alright?” I stammer, my face feeling warm. I try to ignore all around us - the Inquisitor’s court grows larger by the day with a mix of Fereldan and Orlesian nobles. No doubt they will love to gossip about this.

She nods. “Yes, yes, sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going…” She tugs her hair behind her ear. I notice that it’s starting to grow out.

“Neither was I… ah…” I’m struggling for words, and I rub the back of my neck out of habit. Then we both laugh, and the awkwardness is relieved, albeit momentarily, as a loud snicker behind us makes me glance over my shoulder.

Leaning against the large open fire, that’s quickly become Varric’s spot, is the dwarf himself with a tall, dark-haired woman. Instantly I slip back into my Commander mask as Mariam Hawke crosses her arms and tilts her head at Lyla and I.

“I’ll see you in the war room, Cullen,” Lyla says, looking stiffly at Hawke before turning away. I watch her leave until Hawke interrupts my thoughts.

“Well, isn’t this a blast from the past,” she says, a lazy grin on her face.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” Varric says tartly, sauntering out of the hall.

Resisting the urge to turn and follow Lyla, I incline my head politely. “Greetings, Hawke.”

Her smile is mischievous, her icy blue eyes sparkling. “It’s Commander now, isn’t it? You have… changed,” she says finally. “I did not expect to see you here, and fitting in… hmm, so well.”

I ignore her bait. “I did not expect to see you here,” I counter. “The Seeker has been looking for your for months. Why appear now?”

“I’ve tried to stay away from all this trouble,” she admits, her face turning serious. It’s a look I’m not entirely accustomed to. The Hawke I remember was always looking on the brighter side, always making light of situations. Instantly I let my guard drop and watch as she mulls over her words before answering me. “I can’t leave something unfinished, and Corypheus is my business. I simply can’t leave it, despite Fenris’ objections.”

“Is he here?” I ask conversationally. This is probably the most serious - well normal - conversation I’ve ever had with the Champion of Kirkwall.

She hesitates. “No… I had to do this alone. I can’t drag him into this mess again.”

We lapse into silence. It’s strange to see Hawke, here, present in my new life I’m establishing. I’m desperately trying to forget Kirkwall, of Meredith and everything I did wrong or too late. And now Hawke is here, and I wonder if she’s spoken to Lyla about it… about my role in it all…

“The Inquisitor seems well suited to her role. Although she’s certainly not what I was expecting,” Hawke says, looking over my shoulder. I turn to see Lyla by the dais, nodding politely to some nobles and exchanging a few words.

“What were you expecting?” I ask, still watching her.

“Not an elf, for one,” she chuckles, and the old Hawke is back. Blunt, sarcastic Hawke. “And nor did I expect to see so many people falling to her feet - including you.”

I glare at Hawke. I’m not sure whether I’m relieved she’s back to her usual self, rather than the serious woman from moments ago.

“She is already a remarkable leader…” I say lamely.

Hawke steps towards me and pats my arm. “Take it from me, Commander.” She is serious again. “When the world is ending, the last thing you want to do is wait. I only wish I had acted on impulse with Fenris earlier.” And with that she walks away, leaving me to wonder at her words. Had Varric told Hawke about that letter he snatched from me in Haven?

I shake my head and follow in Lyla’s footsteps towards the war room. It’s easier for Hawke to say - hindsight is a wonderful thing.

With even more recruits and refugees arriving at Skyhold, all of my time is spent organising and overseeing the repairs along with guard duty and scouting. I set up my makeshift desk right in the courtyard opposite the gates so I can be the centre of all activity coming in and out of the keep. At night, once late meetings have finished, I do try and sleep in one of the tents, but when I just my eyes I have the nightmares of the Circle, of a Harrowing where Lyla is the one I have to kill when it goes wrong.

I hardly see her in the first week of our arrival at Skyhold. She is busy helping with the renovations too, and in fact, the only time we speak is at the war table. I try to talk to her, but she always dashes off, and I cannot get a word in. Her mind is busy - well she is busy - now that she’s the Inquisitor and not just the Herald.

It is inevitable, I suppose, that now she’s needed by so many people, that it really is purely business between us. I am overseeing a report at my makeshift desk, when I look up and see her in a heated debate with Cassandra, Vivienne and Solas a few feet away. They are far enough from me that I cannot hear their discussion, but I am curious when I see all of these people - as stubborn as one another - clearly disagree on something. They turn to look at the little camp of wounded refugees where the strange young man Cole is wandering through, looking at the injured.

Lyla walks towards him, ignoring the others and I watch from the corner of my eye as she speaks quietly to Cole, her face full of concern. Vivienne strides away whilst Solas lingers to watch. I do not realise that I’m being so obvious in my staring until Cassandra blocks my field of vision to stand in front of me.

“Commander?” she enquires, an eyebrow raised.

I look busily down at the ignored report in my hand and try to digest. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lyla crouch down next to the boy and gently pat his back. Cassandra looks over her shoulder to see what I’m looking at.

“I thought that perhaps Cole was a mage, but Solas disagrees,” she explains, misinterpreting my gaze. “But he insists Cole is a spirit… or a demon.”

I shrug, trying not to let the word ‘demon’ send a shiver down my spine. “What does the Inquisitor think?”

“She thinks that he should stay; spirit or demon or whatever the boy is.” Cassandra crosses her arms. “I don’t know what to think, to be honest.”

We fall into a companionable silence as we watch Lyla speak with Cole at great length. Eventually, Solas turns away and walks to his solar. His eyes meet mine and there’s something there that’s bothering me. He stalks away, glancing back once to look at Lyla. It’s unsettling to think that perhaps he also has some feelings towards Lyla…?

“Cassandra,” I say quietly.

“Hmm?” she says distractedly.

“I… I must ask - is there something going on between Solas and… and the Inquisitor?” There, I’ve said it. Now to dread the answer.

I almost think she’s going to laugh in my face. Something stops her when she sees me looking at her again. “And why must you ask that, Commander?” she is frowning at me. Damn it.

“Just curious. Heard some of the recruits talk about them,” I lie smoothly. Her eyes narrow - I know she’s no sucker to bullshit. “You have travelled with them both…?”

Cassandra glances back at Lyla before lowering her voice. I lean closer to hear. “I don’t know, to be honest, Cullen. I think it’s obvious the apostate pines for her - but whether it’s her he’s after or just his fascination with the mark on her hand… I do not know. And… I am not one to gossip, and I never thought you would be too!”

I gape at her. “Not gossip, Seeker. Just curiosity.”

“Oh really? Do you take a fancy for the Inquisitor too? There seems to be a fan club…”

“Cassandra,” I say firmly, trying to deny everything. The last thing I need is for this clever woman to figure it out so she can blab it to her newest friend.

I think that if her eyebrows rise anymore, they’re going to disappear into her hair. “Oh,” she says, smiling broadly at me.

Maker’s breath… “Forget I said anything.”

“You do like her!” she whispers excitedly. I check myself - is this really Cassandra? Getting a small thrill out of gossip? “Dorian was right!”

“Dorian!” I exclaim. An abundance of questions explode in my mind, but the Seeker grins and walks away with a knowing look as Lyla makes her way over. Wait… did Cassandra just wink? I know I must look ridiculous standing there, feeling like I’ve been thrown into a pool of ice.

“Is everything alright?” Lyla asks innocently. Shit, she’s standing here next to me…I look down at the desk.

“Yes, Inquisitor.” I scan the desk for paperwork. “We set up as best we could in Haven,” I say hurriedly, rubbing the back of my neck. “But could never prepare for an archdemon or - whatever that was. With some warning we might’ve…” I trail off as our eyes meet.

“We were all shaken by what happened,” she says quietly.

I turn back to my desk. “If Corypheus strikes again we might be able to withdraw… and I wouldn’t want to.” I think of how I had retreated with the others at Haven, and left her behind. I pray to the Maker every day that she came back. But never again will I retreat and leave her. I try to give her a report, which is probably what she came over to talk to me about. “We must be ready: work on Skyhold is underway - guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

“How many were lost? At Haven.”

I glance at the roll of parchment I’m preparing for Lelianna. “Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could’ve been worse. Morale was low, but it’s improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor,” I smile.

“Everyone has so much faith in my leadership,” she admits. “I hope I’m ready.”

I straighten and turn to her, feeling humble at her confiding in me. “You won’t have to carry the Inquisition alone… although it must feel like that. We needed a leader and you have proven yourself.”

“Thank you, Cullen”. I’m smiling at her - she’s said my name, again, and I still can’t get used to it. “Our escape from Haven,” she looks down and spreads her hands. “It was close. I’m relieved that you - that so many made it out,” she corrects herself.

I still at her words. Is that a small beacon of hope I feel, igniting inside of me? “As am I,” I say, looking upon her face honestly. I notice a small dimple on her chin, a faint scar on her forehead and the hint of freckles. I do not realise we are standing so close for me to make out these endearing details. I cannot believe I left her in Haven and that she returned. It haunts my dreams as much as the Harrowing, as much as the Circle and Kirkwall. Another horror to try and bury - another regret.

We fall into a strange silence as we remember the attack on Haven, and she turns to leave. I think of Hawke’s words from the other morning and I act impulsively - I reach out and take her arm. She turns to look up at me, her expression softening. “You stayed behind,” I say quietly. “You could have-“ I can’t bear to say it. “I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.” And she does, I cannot let this happen again - not be so unprepared and run the risk of losing her.

Her face softens and I feel my heart swell. Does she… does she feel this too? This electric field between us, this wave of excitement? I drop my arm to my side, and step back. I tell myself this cannot happen. She turns and walks away, and I wonder if she’s telling herself the same thing.  

Lyla returns from a short scouting trip to search the nearby mountains the following day. I have not spoken to her since I almost confessed my confused feelings to her. But as she dismounts, there is a piece of her charming self back in place - with her hair windswept and her cheeks and nose pink from the cold mountain air. She smiles at me as she hands the reigns of her horse over to Master Dennit, and walks over, tucking her hair behind her ears.

“Hello Cullen,” she says softly.

Cassandra walks past us and gives a long, knowing look to Lyla. My eyes widen as the elf in front of me blushes and chews her lip. A soft chuckle from the Seeker as she climbs the main steps makes me want to demand an explanation, but it takes everything to stop myself. Lyla has, after all, come to speak to me personally and I will not turn down this opportunity.

“Can I ask you something?”

I look down at her. “Of course.”

She takes a deep breath. “Did you… leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?”

I frown. “No. I fear I made few friends there. My family’s in Ferelden,” I explain.

“So… no-one special caught your, ah, interest?” She

“Not in Kirkwall…” I say before I can stop myself. I meet her gaze and she’s tugging her hair behind her ears again. Well, it’s the truth. Andraste preserve me, what I would give to know her thoughts…

Lady Vivienne strolls past us. “Glad you have you back, my dear,” she says to Lyla. “I must talk to you about something... when you have a moment.”

“Of course, Lady Vivienne,” Lyla nods.

“No rush, darling. I can see you’re occupied at the moment.” She turns to me. “Good afternoon, Commander. Excellent work on the renovations,” she says before walking away.

“Lady Vivienne’s views on Templars are… surprisingly traditional,” I admit to Lyla, when the tall mage is out of earshot. “I’d got used to mages disliking me on principle.”

“Hmm, I’ve never disliked you on principle,” Lyla says, a lovely, mischievous glint in her eye.

“Ah, um… thank you.” I stammer. She was so shy, so unsure moments before, and now her confidence returns and throws me completely. And yet, it’s something so simple and reassuring to hear that even when we were arguing at each other about the mages way back in Haven, they even then, she did not dislike me. She does not hate me. I allow myself a smile as she catches up with Lady Vivienne.