Thinking about how one of the companions has never been in a relationship before, and I know everyone thinks it’s Lucanis, but what if it’s Davrin?
What if when he was younger he put off dating & such because he thought he had the rest of his life and he had other goals first? What if, after whatever disruption caused him to join the Grey Wardens, he felt like a “dead man walking”? What if he thought there was no point in forming emotional connections, because he was doomed by the Calling? What if he re-learned to show affection & accept unconditional love through taking care of Assan? What if he falls for Rook and finally accepts that he can’t control what happens tomorrow, but he can live & love in this day?
I’m sorry I’m just getting emotional about Davrin’s tragic backstory that I made up entirely in my mind 😭
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Title: Lay Me Down (Gently)
Pairing(s): Rook x Davrin. Solas x Female Lavellan (background).
Rating: T+
Warning(s): Light flirting, overthinking. Diet light voyeur tendencies. City elf Rook, Shadow Dragon Rook. Vague spoilers for Inquisition. Slice of life content, maybe?
So I wrote this flash fic before watching the twenty-minute gameplay trailer today. At the time, I was only getting little spoilers on Tiktok and even then, I avoided it because I wanted to go into the game fresh next month. I made that mistake with BG3 and I didn't wanna do that with this game too. That being said, I have a backstory/headcanon for Rook that will be adapted when it goes live. I just couldn't contain myself over Davrin anymore and had to write something.
Davrin's behavior is my hc'd idea of how he'd be romanced. IT IS NOT CANON SO DON'T @ ME.
If you enjoy this, please like, reblog, and comment!
~
The Inquisitor has a white chrysanthemum in her long, black loc’d hair.
Watching surreptitiously as they are from the window, Felasalin can begrudgingly admit that duo must have made a striking couple back in the day.
Solas with his pale skin, high cheekbones that could cut glass, bald head, full pink lips, grey-blue eyes, while radiating danger and power is definitely the stuff of any human’s sordid fantasy.
Contrastingly, the Inquisitor, (“Call me Atisha, please,”) is just as good looking, if not more so. According to both Bellara and Davrin, she bore Mythal’s vallaslin, something not many Dalish elves did. The golden marks under her dark brown eyes resembled roots and curved up each cheek like wings, complimenting her deep brown skin.
If Solas radiated power and danger, Atisha personified quiet strength and an indomitable spirit.
“You’re spying on them again,” Davrin’s low baritone caressed the shell of Rook’s left ear. His strong arms easily wrap around their middle and he dodges her flailing limbs.
“Easy… easy, Lili,” He teased. “We need to work on your awareness, again, clearly.” The groan this joke earned is expected but no less heartwarming.
“Don’t call me that,” Nose scrunching up in exaggerated disgust; leaning back against his chest, sinking into him almost, Felasalin huffed out a laugh. “…wasn’t spying,” The words are grumbled and halfhearted. Glancing down, Felasalin realized that their fingers were clutching at Davrin’s forearm and released him belatedly, a word of apology on their tongue but Davrin simply intertwined their fingers together.
A simple but intimate gesture.
Stupidly, the thought that the two of them look good together teased her brain.
His skin is a deeper shade of brown than hers. Slightly scarred from adventures new and old. His hands were rough and calloused, but comforting.
“Mmhm, you were definitely spying,” Davrin chuckled, squeezing her around the middle as he spun them away from the window gracefully. Then he let go and took a step back. An action which made Felasalin keenly aware of his distance, small as it is. “Do you want me to guess-?”
Hands going behind their back to stop the instinct to clutch him close, they rocked backwards on their heels, head tilted to the side.
“…I just don’t get it,” Davrin hummed, encouraging her to continue. “There are rumors about the Inquisitor and the Dreadwolf but I mean…” Unwillingly, her gaze went back to the older elven woman. Catching sight of Solas’ expression, how such a larger than life figure could manage to look equally devoted and pining while looking at towards another person is…humbling. Confusing.
“I thought it was a lie.”
“…Well, we should probably let them work it out in peace,” Davrin commented, tone both apologetic and teasing again. Gently, he tugged at the sharp point of her ear, finger grazing on down from cheek to neck feather light.
Embarrassingly, a soft moan escaped their lips. Davrin chuckled softly and just moments later felt his lips lightly brush the corner of her mouth. Not quite a full kiss and on autopilot Felasalin chased after him, whining as he pulled back teasingly. “And you can tell me, while you’re in my bed, exactly what label we’ll be using for us…”
As Davrin crooked his finger, beckoning them forward, Felasalin didn’t hesitate to follow.
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