#dorian is slowly crawling INTO my lap

[roundaboutnow]

helpppp im being surrounded by cats who want my dinner and arent afraid to steal it

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Twenty Two: Don't Fear the Reaper Pt. 7

“Dolly…whatever happens, just know that we’re going to be right here to support you, alright?” Greed spoked softly as he looked over to a very mortified Dolly who was watching this all unfold in horrifying splendor. “Oh gods…Freddy..Envy…they were both down there….” Dolly had tears forming in her eyes as the thoughts of Freddy being dead and everyone else stuck in an endless burning cycle.

 “Boss…what are we going to do?” Dolcetto asked as they did manage to escape with the loot from the Villa before it launched itself.

 “We’re going to wait a bit before walking down to a place with a phone to report back to the cabin on what happened. After that, we need to figure out a way to get Lust, Gluttony, Hughes, Tim, and Envy out of the fire pit.” Greed had no clue what the best choice would be other than to wait a bit and hope that the group down below had escaped.

 “Dolly, I’m sorry..I’m sorry I said that..” Dorian said as he crawled up onto Dolly’s lap to comfort her as guilt finally got a good grip on him.

 “I’m sorry I even agreed with the statement..” Ernest joined in with comforting Dolly as she hugged the two clay lion constructs for comfort.

 “Damn straight you little shits better be sorry!” Yelled a voice from behind the group, forcing everyone to look around to the source.

 Standing there, covered in ash and grime was the other half of the group, Freddy looking livid that the lions had wished he’d burn in the blaze and rightfully so. There were others too such as George, Roy, Joel, and Talia who had survived the clash with Fuhrer King Bradley just before the underground erupted. Dolly let her lions go from the hug as she slowly got up from the ground, overjoyed that everyone survived that nightmare. While yes, the capital would be lost to all for many generations to come, the ultimate goal was met in ending Dante’s reign of tyranny for the past many centuries. The two groups finally met at last after the nightmare that had plagued everyone came to its fiery end.

“Damn Freddy…you have no eyebrows anymore..” Greed whistled a bit at the missing eyebrows that became a new feature on Freddy’s face. “...What happened to my eyebrows!?” Freddy freaked out upon being told that he lost his eyebrows in the fiery inferno as he fell to his knees. “Freiderick Augustus Mancer, we all just escaped a horrible fiery inferno with our lives!” Talia scolded, still upset about losing their prize to a literal hell hole. “I have a better thing to cry about, my car is still in the capital!” Roy added on as he realized that the beautiful beach day car of his was likely reduced to molten metal by now.

 “Your priority is off, the capital is gone now. Amestris is going to need to declare a new capital with the current acting leader to avoid everything falling into a state of lawlessness.” George said as the reality of the situation became devastatingly clear amongst other things. “Are teams going to be made to go into the city to retrieve the books and research papers…” Edward spoke as the fact that countless and priceless works were now in danger of being lost forever all because of fucking Kimblee was now a reality.

 “It’ll have to be a combination of Sheska’s incredible memory and a recovery team to save whatever hasn’t been damaged.” Hughes said as he patted Edward’s back after both of them survived such a horrifying incident.

 “Now that we’re all out, we need to make some calls and plan a meet up at the bar Hughes so you can explain why you’re back from the dead.” Roy hooked his arm around Hughes’s neck in a playful head hold.

 “Oh that one is simple, Dante made him into a homunculus.” Envy answered, unaware just how much information was given at a bad time.

 “....what?” Roy’s face dropped upon learning that little truth.

 “Envy!” Hughes shouted, not thrilled that he didn’t get to be the one to tell Roy this. “Well it’s true, Dante got desperate when Pride went on his tantrum rampage over Ernest there and made Hughes a Homunculus to replace him with.” Envy continued, not catching on how bad of an idea it was to be so open on this matter.

 “You know what, I’m just going to breathe and accept that I have my best friend back from the dead. I’m not even surprised that the horrible little monster is here as well. I just want a bath, get nicer things on, and then have drinks with my friends after everything I’ve been through.” Roy went to sit down after having that sudden whiplash of information being thrown on him like that.

 “I’m going to go ahead and find a house with a phone. Hopefully, we’ll get a ride towards the train station from there before the masses arrive.” Greed said as he started the long track up the road to see if he could get a hold of a phone to use. “Dolly..?” Envy approached Dolly after noticing she had been silent for a while, only to be surprised as she immediately gripped the green gremlin Homunculus in a tight hug. “Oh my gods, Wayfarer!” Dolly cried out as she hugged Envy as though they’d disappeared if she were to let go. “Hey now, I’m covered in gross shit right now.” Envy was struggling to breathe a little bit as they truly were covered in awful things no beings should ever encounter. “I don’t care right now, I’m just glad you and Freddy are safe!” Dolly cried as Envy patted the top of Dolly’s head, though Envy didn’t care much for being grouped in with Freddy.

 Envy and Dolly hugged one another for a while with the two clay lions staying close by, the group still decompressing from the events of the day that had led to a massive disaster. Greed, knowing full well to leave things be, started making his way up the road to fetch a ride for the entire group to reach the train station before it gets overcrowded. The only one not really decompressing or really chatting with anyone at the moment was George. George very much still remembered Dolly, the one who gave him a much nicer name than ‘Scar’ and the fact she allowed him to eat at the apartment that one time when having to hide away during the lockdown. There was a smile on George face, thankful that things did turn out better in the end for him after finally getting rid of the fuhrer that caused the genocide and was alive now thanks to the kindness shown. It would be about an hour until Greed returned with transportation for the station up ahead. Once everyone was on board, they took off for the station as the radios reported on the loss of the Capital and the Fuhrer was finally dead.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

A Study in How To Trust a Qunari When They've Just Become Tal-Vashoth

okay so couldn’t get this out of my head. I just love the idea of a) Dorian trying to give the Bull what he needs for once, and b) Dorian slowly growing to trust the Bull after the Demands of the Qun, because beforehand there was always a reason for Dorian to hold back ('he's literally an enemy spy') but once that reason is gone, well. Dorian's head over heels. Warnings for some mild smut (please check the tags on AO3 if you need more info) which I don’t usually write but which was important for the flow of this story. You can also find this on AO3 here!

-///-

The first time they fuck after shit goes down with the Qun, is the first time Bull realises how much Dorian’s been holding back.

It’s subtle, a barely-there change. Dorian still came to his room and knocked on his door twice. He still waltzed in like he owned the place. He still crawled into Bull’s lap like it was the only place he wanted to be.

When Bull bit his lower lip he did not call Bull a ‘savage’ though, or a ‘big lug’ or whatever other insults Dorian usually tossed at him like secret pet names.

Bull felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. He’d been waiting for it, for the words that would confirm he was becoming exactly what the Qun told him he would now he’d left. But they didn’t come. Bull appreciated that. Mutual respect went a long way when it came to these sorts of arrangements. And sure, Bull was always watching out to make sure he didn’t trip over some unknown limit or pressure point in bed, but…people didn’t usually give him the same respect back. At least not so noticeably.

Huh.

Anyway. It’s a small thing. It easily passes them by. Bull tugs off Dorian’s ridiculous clothes that are more buckles than cloth, and Dorian kisses the underside of Bull’s jaw then nips playfully at his pulse point.

“I was thinking…the silks scarfs are very fun and all, very fashionable, but perhaps…ropes, this evening?” Dorian mumbles into Bull’s skin, newly naked and half hard.

Bull feels a smile begin to slot on his face. He’d been excited from the moment Dorian walked in; he could do with being in control for a while. But he’d figured a bit of rough and tumble was as far as Dorian would like to go. Usually, Dorian wanted silk scarfs on his wrists and dirty words in his ear, and that was pretty much that. Which was great for Bull, perfect, even. Bull liked giving Dorian whatever he needed. But if Dorian needed ropes tonight…

“You remember your word?”

“Katoh,” Dorian says simply, rather than being snarky about it. There’s a curve of a smirk on his lips though, “it will take more than a few ropes to make me use it, Bull. I’m not so fragile,” he pressed his lips to Bull’s forehead, a surprisingly soft gesture and one Bull wasn’t entirely prepared for, “fuck me until I can’t walk straight.”

So, there were ropes. Dorian let Bull tie him the way he liked, knotted to the bed. If there’s one thing Qunari know how to do, it’s tie a knot, and Bull’s gentle to make sure the rope won’t put too much pressure on Dorian’s skin. That’s the thing about this sort of sex, a delicious mix between fast and rough and control and softness. You had to hit it just right; control enough to keep your partner safe, rough enough to keep it fun.

Dorian looked beautiful, like that. He looked even better a moment later, when Bull had his cock down Dorian’s throat. Dorian swallowed it perfectly, and not for the first time Bull thought about how lucky he was that this bratty mage had found his way into his bed.

He wasn’t bratty that evening though.

When Bull eventually pulled out of his mouth, Dorian grinned up at him.

“You ever tried edging?” Bull chucked out, just to see what Dorian would say.

“My, my, testing my endurance tonight, are you?” Dorian laughed, and it was a pretty sound. Beautiful. The sort that Bull could get used to.

“You agree, and they’ll be rules. No cumming until I say so,” Bull warns.

“Yes, yes,” Dorian responds, “no cumming.”

Bull pushes that.

And Dorian? Dorian goes beautifully into it. Bull’s not really expecting the way he does, actually. He’s not only letting Bull push him to the edge and pull him back again, but he’s submitting. It’s subtle, but it’s there, in the way his eyes go a bit glassy after a while, in the way his body bends to each of Bull’s orders, in the way that Dorian’s dick doesn’t hesitate for even a moment when Bull finally gives the order for him to cum.

The ropes are removed, after, and Bull wipes Dorian down, waits until Dorian comes back up from the space Bull put him in. He’s gentle as he does, letting Dorian lean on him. It feels good, this bit. The whole thing felt good. At least, on Bull’s end.

“Good?” Bull’s half-expecting Dorian to shake his head, to say that it was a bit too much. Or whatever the Dorian equivalent of that would be, probably a sarcastic comment Bull could read through.

Instead, Dorian nods enthusiastically, “hmm, excellent,” he breathes, “and you?” his eyes are shining and he’s looking at Bull like maybe….

Something.

“Yeah. You did perfect.”

Dorian grins, “naturally,” he stretches out his back, curling closer to Bull which is…fine, but not expected. Usually, Dorian leaves.

“Now, if it’s quite alright, I’ll be staying the evening. I’m far too tired to walk all the way back to my quatres after that.” Dorian announces and throws an arm over Bull’s waist.

Huh.

Well. That was new.

This whole evening was new.

Whatever Dorian had been holding back…he wasn’t anymore.

-///-

And the thing is, it’s not just in the bedroom.

Dorian rarely ever came to the Herald’s Rest. Except correction: he did now. Often. He ordered Ferelden ale and put up a fuss about it being ‘utter piss’, but always finished his tankard anyway. He sat with the Chargers and he…made friends.

The ice that had existed between Krem and Dorian had dissipated somewhere along the way. They now seemed to share some odd sense of countryman bond, occasionally he’d even catch them chatting in Tevene. Krem would wink when Bull caught him watching. Bull had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

But Dorian also made an effort with the rest of the chargers. He suggested a frightening number of ways magic could help make Rocky’s explosions even bigger, played cards with Skinner and talked about ‘archery’ with Dalish.

“They’re a good lot, you know,” Dorian would comment as they walked up to Bull’s room. That was another thing he’d stopped doing. He didn’t come under the cover of night much anymore, unless he’d been studying late in the library. He’d walk up to the room right next to Bull.

“Yeah,” Bull murmured, “the best.” He still thinks about that decision sometimes, how close he came to watching them all die while he did nothing.

He made the right choice.

He doesn’t need the Inquisitor to tell him that, not anymore. He wouldn’t be himself without them.

Still…he misses the Qun.

He misses the structure, the order, the way he knew himself within its bounds.

But Dorian opens the bedroom door and curls a finger in his harness to drag him close and then nothing outside the room exists for a while.

-///-

The first time Dorian asks seriously about the Qun is the first time that Dorian fucks Bull rather than the other way around.

It had been a good round of it. Bull hasn’t been fucked since he last saw the tamassrans. He prefers it the other way round, most days, but there’s something soft in the way that Dorian treated him through it and now he feels boneless and relaxed. Bull’s pretty sure they’ll do it again. If nothing else it was hot to see Dorian pounding into him with abandon.

It’s afterwards. He’s lazed, happily, on Bull’s chest, tracing old scars. He never asks where Bull got them from, and mostly Bull figures they’re a turn on for him, but sometimes he’s also…soft with them.

It’s undeniably confusing, the way Dorian treats him now. Sometimes, he wishes they could go back to before, when Dorian had come for sex and had flirted and teased in equal measures on the battlefield, but never bothered to stay.

Sometimes the thought of not having this makes Bull feel ice cold.

“I have been rather disparaging about your homeland,” Dorian announces, rather suddenly.

“Ain’t my homeland anymore,” Bull’s still fucked out enough to not feel too tense at the sudden way this conversation is going.

“Yes, well, neither am I much of an asset to Tevinter. But I still miss it,” Dorian let something of a smile curl his face, “Krem has helped. But it’s struck me that you don’t have anyone to talk to about the Qun, and all the mess that came with leaving it. So…” Dorian trails off. He looks suddenly awkward; he’s not looking in Bull’s eyes. But he’s also not backing down.

Dorian doesn’t back down from fights.

“I only wished to express that I am here, and while not well versed in the particularities of Par Vollen, can at least appreciate the fact that Southerners are fucking bizarre. Among other things.” Dorian traced another scar, his fingers soft, not a single callose on them. Bull wonders if that’s because of magic or because of Dorian’s ridiculous beauty routines.

“Thanks,” Bull says, and he finds he means it. “Not tonight.” But maybe one day.

-///-

Bull returns from a mission on a Wednesday evening to hear the weirdest rumour.

Unfortunately, like most of the shit that goes on in Skyhold, the weirder the rumour the more likely it is to be true.

Which means that he isn’t surprised to see a harried-looking Cadash walking towards him. “Dorian does not know how to throw a punch. Why didn’t we ever teach him that?”

“How badly is his hand bruised up?”

“Pretty bad,” Cadash admits. “He split his knuckles open, the idiot, and he almost broke his thumb.”

Bull has a question on his lips but asking feels like a little too much right now. Should he? Should he ask or—

“He did it for you, you know?” Cadash doesn’t wait for Bull to sort out whether or not it’s a good idea. She’s straightforward like that. For someone who used to work in organised crime, she’s got a hatred for secrets something fierce. “Sits around and takes all the crap people can dish out about him but the moment that someone calls you an uncontrollable mad savage…”

Bull swallows. Uncontrollable. Mad. Savage. All the things he’d been told he’d become without the Qun. All the things he’s still worried he will become without the Qun. It’s only been a few months, after all.

And Dorian heard it and punched someone. Almost broke his thumb over it.

Huh.

Cadash is looking at him, got something in her eyes that’s half mischief, half happiness. The same look she was wearing when she asked him about gifts for Sera.

“What?” He questions because he might as well. She’s going to say it anyway.

“Nothing, nothing, just…glad to see you two getting close,” Cadash waves her hand, “he came to see me, after the shit with the Qun. Got all pissed that I hadn’t taken him, said he should have been there. The ‘for you’ was unsaid but implied.”

Bull rolls his eyes, “we’re just fucking, Boss. Dorian’s a good guy, sweet. But I’m sure he’d punch any asshole that talked shit about his friends.”

“Sure, sure,” Cadash said, in a way that definitely sounded like she thought Bull was being an idiot. “Well, I’ve got to run. Josephine should hear about my inner circle punching nobles from me.”

Bull watched her go. She had a nice ass. Not as nice as Dorian’s but still.

-///-

Dorian set the curtains on fire.

Dorian set the curtains on fire.

They’d come a long way, from that first time with the ropes. They’re onto wax now, wax dripping from candles and making delicious patterns on Dorian’s back while he’s tied up and writhing, needy, desperate.

He stopped talking back a good ten minutes ago, which meant that he’d dropped down into that space he went to sometimes, the space Bull helped him get in and out of.

Bull had dribbled more wax with one hand, while his other stretched Dorian out. And when his curled fingers found Dorian’s prostate—

There was the distinct smell of burning and sudden hotness on one side of the room.

Dorian had set the curtains on fire.

Bull wasn’t even sure if Dorian had noticed. He let out a needy, desperate whine when Bull pulled away to try and deal with it.

“Dorian, you aware enough to help me with this?” Bull prodded because really, magic would be a hell of a lot easier to fix the magic fire.

Dorian lifted his head, blinked up at him and-- “Vasta Kaffas,” he growled, the fire leaping on the curtains dissipating. Curtains were ruined though. “Ugh, suppose that puts an end to our evening,” Dorian sighed, “get me out of the ropes, will you? We should open the windows to let the smoke out.”

It took a little while to sort everything out, open the door. Dorian dressed himself in some loose shirt before coming to sit by Bull. “…Apologises, by the way. I know magic isn’t something you’re particularly fond of.”

Bull blinked. Huh. His mind hadn’t even gone there. It probably should have done. “I was more thinking that it was pretty hot I made you lose control like that. You must have been real excited. You know, before we had to stop.”

Dorian laughed, a bright sound, a sound that was fast becoming one of Bull’s favourites. “Well, who knew you’d find a way to twist this into a compliment for yourself.”

“Well, you’re sprung pretty tight, you know that? You rarely ever lose control of that pretty composure you’ve got. It matters, that you trust me enough to let go of it around me.”

Dorian watched him, and there was…something in his eyes. “Indeed,” he murmured, before pulling Bull down so he could kiss him.

-///-

Dorian wakes up screaming while they are in the middle of a bog.

The Fellow Mire is pretty much Bull’s least favourite place on the continent. Unfortunately, the initial sweep Cadash did to get the soldiers out had revealed some reports about an apostate doing dangerous shit and exasperating the undead situation. Which meant that they had to come back to deal with it.

Shitty, but Bull supposes it’s alright, and he’s glad Dorian is around to complain about it too. Complaining with Dorian is fun.

What’s less fun? Being woken by Dorian screaming.

For one thing, they’re out in the wilderness. Which means that it’s dangerous to be making that much noise, even inside the confines of an Inquisition camp.

For another, Dorian is screaming and scratching at his skin and he looks so distressed by whatever he’s seen in the fade and—

“Dorian, hey, hey, I’m here,” Bull shifted in their tent, reached out very slowly to rest a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, grateful when Dorian didn’t flinch, “look at me, Dorian. I’m right here.”

Dorian did as he was told.

There was a moment, a moment where his face was still terrified and awfully blank, but then something flickered behind his eyes, awareness of where they were and of what was real and what was fake.

Bull had seen this sort of thing in Seheron. Soldiers going mad, soldiers getting their throats slit at night because they kept giving away their locations and people realised. It was bad crap, meant your mind wasn’t where it was supposed to be. War did that. It brought out the worst.

Bull could really do with it not happening to Dorian.

Something twists uncomfortably in his chest at the thought. Dorian’s kind, bright, intelligent eyes going dim, Dorian’s flair for life dissipating. It’s a horrible thought. It’s one of the worst Bull has ever had.

“Everything alright?” Cadash calls from outside the tent, gentle, not sticking her head in yet, though Bull’s got no doubt she’s armed and ready if Bull needs her to be.

“It’s fine,” Bull calls out, “go back to sleep.”

“She wasn’t sleeping!” Sera’s giggles are loud enough and familiar enough that it breaks some of the tension, while the girls clamber back into their tent on the other side of camp.

Dorian lets out a pathetic sounding laugh, and Bull’s chest hurts again, “shit,” he breathes, “I’m sorry. I—”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Bull cuts in, quickly. They’re not going down that line of reasoning, not tonight.

Dorian nods, then, gestures awkwardly towards Bull- “Can I?”

Bull’s not sure what he’s asking, but the answer is yes regardless. So, he nods and ends up with a lap full of ‘Vint mage.

It’s not the worst place to be in the world.

Dorian buries his head into Bull’s shoulder, and his breaths are purposefully deep and even.

Bull rubbed slow circles on his back, tried to keep them both steady. It was a while, before Dorian’s breathing sounded less purposeful and more natural.

“I don’t think I ever told you why I left Tevinter,” Dorian murmured, finally.

Bull stayed quiet. He didn’t need the story; he’d worked out it had something to do with Dorian’s family. But he had no desire to push. If Dorian wanted to share, he’d listen. If not, that was fine too.

“My father,” Dorian continued, “he was…a good man, once. A man to whom I aspired. He taught me many important lessons about…how to be, how to be in Tevinter. Blood magic is the resort of the weak-minded, that was a big one,” Dorian laughed, but it wasn’t a nice laugh. A low, humourless chuckle, “of course, turned out that he was weak-minded. When I refused to marry the pretty woman my parents picked out for me…Well. Father thought I’d agree more readily if I could stop my preoccupation with dick.”

Bull blinked. Shit. He felt anger rising in him, a deep sort of anger, a blind protectiveness that made him want to curl around Dorian and never let him go.

“He tried to change you,” Bull growled, trying to keep his tone even as possible. Didn’t want to make Dorian think he was upset with him.

“Yes,” Dorian said, sighing, “and so I left. I had to, after that. But the night he tried…well, it wasn’t pleasant. Nightmares are the unfortunate side effect of the issue.”

Nightmares. About something from before, not the current war. Dorian wasn’t losing his mind to this. Not yet at least.

Bull pressed a kiss to the top of Dorian’s hair, “thank you.”

“For what? Waking you up with my screaming? Yes, truly, I am very generous, spreading the insomnia around—"

“For trusting me enough to tell me.” Bull corrected.

“Ah, that. Well,” Dorian shrugged, “naturally.”

Neither of them got any more sleep last night, but Bull held Dorian the whole night.

-///-

“Katoh.”

Everything stops.

The scene ends. The ropes are undone. There is a glass of water placed in Dorian’s hand while Bull goes to get a basin and a cloth.

Dorian doesn’t say anything. Not for a long time. He lets Bull wipe him down, and lets Bull get him comfortably on the bed. And then nothing. He lays there, and Bull lays beside him, and he waits for Dorian to consent to moving into his arms.

Eventually, Dorian does. He’s limp, and a hand is pressed to Bull’s chest. Bull wonders if he’s listening to his heartbeat.

“You stopped,” Dorian murmured.

“Of course.”

Dorian hums under his breath, tucks himself closer to Bull’s body. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Bull promises, and strokes through Dorian’s hair. “You okay?”

“I am now,” Dorian says. Bull believes him.

-///-

“I always knew you’d ruin me,” Dorian’s voice was speaking to him, from somewhere. Somewhere far away, or perhaps somewhere close. Bull can’t quite tell. It was hard to hear past the pain that was tearing through his body like shockwaves. “I knew it. I knew you’d break my heart you, bastard, you—don’t you dare fucking leave me now, Amatus, or I will personally revive you so I can kill you myself.”

There were other voices too, from somewhere. Bull couldn’t hear them properly. Cadash? Ma’am? It was a jumble. Where even were they? Away from the battleground? On it still? He couldn’t—

“You had to go and do it didn’t you? Leave the Qun and make me want to—to comfort you. To trust you. To love you. And now you’re dying, fuck, he’s dying.”

“He is not dying.” Another voice, hard, firm. Okay, that definitely was the boss. She was using her inquisitor voice and everything.

Bull tried to flicker his eye open, but he was so tired. Which, some distant part of him noted, wasn’t good. Blood loss. He’d suffered too much blood loss.

Dorian was panicking though. And if he was going…it’d be nice to get a look at him, before the end.

“Dorian…” he mumbled, “Kadan…”

There was a sob that sounded suspiciously like Dorian’s.

“S’alright…” Bull tried to force out, the word slurred, “’ be alright.”

That was about as much as he got out before he passed out.

-///-

Bull comes too and is almost surprised about it.

Good though. It would be pretty shitty if he could say he’d survived Seheron, becoming Tal-Vashoth and walking physically through the goddamn fade only to be bested by a simple Venetori agent. If Bull was going down in combat, it should be something big, like a dragon. Yeah. Dragon would be good.

Besides the point.

The point is that he’s alive, which is good, and while his abdomen hurts like a bitch, he no longer feels delirious from blood loss. So. Pros and Cons.

He opens his eyes to find a Tevinter mage passed out in a chair on the bed beside him, and an amused looking inquisitor standing near the door.

“Hello,” she whispers.

“Hey Boss,” he grunts back. “Where are we?”

“Caer Bronach. Closest place with a medical set up.” Cadash folded her arms over her chest, her voice shifting to her proper leader voice, “you scared us for a second there.”

“Nah,” Bull responded, “me? Take more than that to keep me down.”

“Hmm. You’re lucky Vivienne was around to help keep your insides on the inside. She says you owe her new shoes, by the way, you got blood on her old ones. She also says if she catches you picking at the wound, she’ll take it personally. So. You know. Unless you want to die, I’d recommend not doing that.” Cadash nodded to Dorian, “first time he’s slept since you fell.”

“How long?”

“Four days.”

Ouch. Long time.

“I have to head back to Skyhold soon, with Viv. Apparently, there’s some shit going on in the west that needs my attention,” she rolled her eyes. “But Dorian will stay with you until you’re well enough to travel.”

“He can go with you, you know, I’ll be alright.” It would be…maybe a tad preferable to have Dorian here, but it would be fine if he didn’t. The Inquisitions needs came above personal ones.

“Yeah, try telling him that. I think you took about twelve years off his life with that stunt.”

Bull remembers…something. It’s more Dorian’s voice than anything else. Panicked. Scared.

Dorian had been scared for him.

Huh.

Shouldn’t surprise him. This was the man who went about throwing punches in Skyhold to defend his honour but.

Well.

“Get some rest,” Cadash moved over to his side, gently gripped his upper shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “and let me know when my favourite bodyguard is ready to go out again. We’ll do a dragon, next time. For your big return.”

“That’s why I love you, Boss.”

“I know.” Cadash winked, and then she was gone.

Bull let his eyes drift closed. If Dorian was asleep…might as well get some more rest himself.

-///-

When Bull woke up, Dorian wasn’t there.

In fact, for the next few days, Dorian wasn’t there.

He’d appear sometimes, at random intervals. Bull was pretty sure that he was mostly sitting outside Bull’s door. He kept seeing the tail end of him and a pile of books whenever a medic opened it. But then the door would close and Dorian wouldn’t come in.

It was frustrating as fuck.

So, a week after he’d woken up, Bull ducked away from the healers and pulled himself onto the battlements to find his mage.

His mage was not impressed.

“What the—what the hell are you doing out of bed, you idiot,” Dorian hissed when Bull came and stood next to him, “you could pull the stitches, reopen the wound, do you have any idea what an effort the healers have gone to make sure you survive and—”

“Well. I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t avoiding me,” Bull quipped back.

Dorian’s mouth snapped shut. He glared. “I am not.”

“Then how come you stayed by my side the entire time I was passed out delirious, but the moment I became lucid, I didn’t see you for a week.”

Dorian stuttered, avoiding Bull’s gaze. Bingo. “Well, I’ve been busy. Just because we’re taking a getaway in Crestwood does not mean my duties to the inquisition are just on pause, I’m a vital member of this whole thing and they’d be lost without me and—”

“I love you too, you know.”

Causing Dorian to Shut up twice in two minutes. That had to be a record or something.

“Excuse me?” Dorian finally said. The wind whipped around them, even as the sun played off Dorian’s skin. His hair was a bit of a mess, the mountain breeze coaxing it out of its usual style. He looked beautiful like this, pretty, hot.

“Well. I’m pretty sure that’s what you said while I was bleeding out. Or something like it. That you love me. Either that or I had a very embarrassing fever dream, and things are about to get incredibly awkward.” Bull had gone over it again and again though, and the brief parts he could remember after he fell did seem to hold the weight of some kind of confession. “Anyway. I love you, too. So, if that’s the problem can you stop avoiding me? I miss you.”

“You! Well, I—” Dorian shook his head, “you’re impossible. I’m mad at you. You can’t just go around throwing about confessions of love when someone is mad at you.”

“You’re mad because I came to find you out here?”

“Because you almost died. After a quite long period of making me care about you, which is entirely your fault, by the way. If you hadn’t gone and left the Qun, I would have been able to persuade myself that catching feelings for a spy was an awful idea and we could have avoided this mess entirely. But then you did that, and you—you respected my stupid safe word, and you let me sit with you at the tavern and made me go and trust you, which was really quite rude and—”

Bull could feel a smile cracking onto his face, “you do love me.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, Dorian, you’ve gone all sappy on me.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Dorian did, in fact, make him.

The kiss was chaste, if only for the fact that it actually did hurt to lean down. No strenuous activities for a while, which, damn. But he could think of a few strenuous ways to get them both off, and that would have to do.

“You are a ridiculous man,” Dorian murmured, pulling back. “I have clearly lost all sense and reason.”

“Yeah,” Bull grinned, “maybe. I’m a big fan of it though.”

Dorian sighed. “Come along, let’s get you back to bed before the healers chase us down and somehow blame me for all this mess. Or worse, Charter. She’s almost as scary as Leliana when she wants to be.”

Bull took his hand, “you know, I figured I’d be less trustable once I left the Qun. Can’t believe that’s what convinced you to give in.” Well, he sort of could, from Dorian’s perspective, but.

“Yes, well. When you give up everything for a small group of ragtag idiots, it does inspire that sort of thing. Must we talk about it? Or can’t I just suck you off in your rooms.”

“Well, if you insist.”

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - two

Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 2.9k 

a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

——————————————————————————-

Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.

You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.

You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.

Just as intended.

Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.

After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.

--

You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.

No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.

What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.

You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.

The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.

“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.

“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.

“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.

“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.

She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”

As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.

“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”

You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.

“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.

“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.

You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.

“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.

You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.

--

Dorian was a mess.

He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.

Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.

But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.

Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.

Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.

But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.

Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.

--

You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.

By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.

Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.

On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.

The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.

“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.

You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”

He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”

You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”

You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.

“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.

“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.

“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.

“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.

“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.

“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.

“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”

“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.

“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,

“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”

You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.

--

Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.

He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.

What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.

He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.

“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.

“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.

“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.

“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”

“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.

“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.

“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.

“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.

“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.

He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.

--

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.

But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.

You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.

But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.

You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.

Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.

You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.

[faerieavalon]

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Share 5 favorite bits of writing? Don’t mind if I do!

Tagged by @pedlimwen thank you!!!

I’ll pass this one along to @serial-chillr, @solas-disapproves, @johaeryslavellan, @rivainisomniari, @midnightprelude, @odekiax2, @elveny, @pikapeppa if you haven’t shared already. No pressure though!

From Sa'vunin - A Single Day, a collection of side stories within the Sule Tael universe, Mahanon is sappy:

Dorian grumbled and rolled over to face him, bringing one arm out of the blankets to press a palm to his cheek. “You insufferable tease, what did you tell her about me?”

He kissed Dorian’s wrist and laughed softly. “I told her that I have found someone special. A light in the dark. A refuge in the storm. An answer to the greatest question that has plagued my life. A man to whom I could pledge my heart because he cooled my mind burning with longing.”

“Oh.” Dorian looked away and turned a delicious shade of red. “That’s, well, that’s something.”

“Only something?” Mahanon pouted dramatically. “Vhenan, you wound me.”

Lifting an eyebrow at the display, Dorian laughed. “You are a despicable heathen and I can’t stand to look at you.”

“Such sweet things you say, oh love of my life.”

From Sule universe again, a ridiculous idea about construction:

Solas stood on a rock, looking from the building to a parchment in his hands. From the depth of his frown, she could tell he wasn’t pleased. It was his voice she heard, bickering in sharp tones with Abelas. The former Sentinel and his old friend Avalon were bare to the waist, impervious to the chill biting in the air as they worked. While the elders argued, the younger seemed quite content to continue packing clay into the woven wood walls. He was whistling a happy little tune, too. The structure was growing to be a simple mud hut with a strong, peaked thatch roof. A couple of small families would be kept warm and safe inside through the mountain winters. 

Why they were the ones doing construction, and why they were arguing about it, was too interesting a puzzle to pass up. Ara’lan crept quietly closer, ducking behind a boulder to listen in.

“The entrance needs to be at the south wall,” Abelas grumbled. “Facing east will catch the wind and drafts will linger.”

“I have enough experience building in this climate to know differently,” Solas offered back a bit louder than before. “These plans have been used for ages without concern.”

“Respectfully, there was magic to secure the entrance then. We are lacking in that luxury now.”

“We will not be once I enchant the walls. Unless, of course, you never finish constructing them.”

From Sule Tael Chapter 21, Solas lets a big secret be known:

“I knew you were  different.” She smiled kindly. “You have no valasllin and survived the ages. When all the other Gods ran happily into war, the Wolf's people did not. I assumed you were allied with them. With your talents it makes perfect sense you were a priest of his. Why does this trouble you to show me?”

“Fen’Harel had no priests.” His words cracked around the edges. "He did not want to be worshiped."

The memory, having run its course, faded away into silence. Solas closed his eyes. When they opened again, they weren’t the same color she loved so dearly. They were a swirling silver.

“I was Solas first. Fen’Harel was an insult I took as a badge of pride. It inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies.” He smiled bitterly. “The People needed me, but what I became-”

The power behind his stare stole the air from her lungs and caused her heart to race. The urge to run coiled in her gut as the joy she just shared fizzled out. Fighting against it, she bit her lip. Fen'Harel wasn't like the Creators. He couldn't be. Memories of dark pain, fire and screaming flashed in the back of her mind. Letting out a long breath, she clenched her fists by her sides until her nails dug into her palms and grounded her in the present. The longer she took to answer him, the sadder he became. Just as he was about to turn away she found her voice.

“Atishan, Fen’Harel.” Her lips shook but her words held steady.

Ara’lan slowly gathered her nerve. He wasn’t Mythal. If he was going to hurt her, he would have done it already. This was just as hard for him to show as it was for her to see. Releasing her tension, she reached out to him and brushed a thumb across his cheek. Her eyes softened and she breathed hope into the air between them. It was a small thing, but it was honest. Closing his eyes once more, he let out a breath. His eyes were back to normal when he opened them again. His voice broke under the weight of his shame.

 “And now you know. Everything I hoped, everything I tried to do for our People, it all went so horribly wrong.”

Ara’lan pressed her forehead to his and sighed. “I see you, Fen’Harel. I see you and I am not afraid.”

Also from Sule, Chapter 33, Felassan gets his second chance to say something important:

“The first time we met, you scolded me for running straight into trouble.” He sighed wistfully and twisted a few strands of her hair between his fingers. “Told me a rebellion lived and died with the strength of the people that brought others hope and that I needed to take better care of myself so I could take care of them. You said I was lucky to make it into your care in time and you almost wanted to let me suffer a little longer to think about what I’d done.”

Ara’lan huffed a laugh and shifted in his lap to snuggle closer. She remembered that day, too. He had come in with a handful of refugees. All were broken, bloody, and starving but it was all from old wounds. He had a broken wrist, more cuts than she could count, and two broken ribs but he still lead them with a grin. They had stayed safe because he protected them.

“I did,” she agreed quietly. “You were quite the valiant hero, ma’falon, even if you were foolish.”

“I was,” he agreed with a sheepish grin. “You were right, of course. And then you were so charming after it all that I had to find ways to keep coming back and see you. Ways that didn’t always involve me getting injured.”

Ara’lan felt a heat crawl up the back of her neck as she smiled. He had always been so charming, even in the direst of circumstances. She was selfishly glad he hadn't lost that part of himself.

“Of course you would lecture me every time I had even a little scratch.” Felassan continued telling his story, only pausing for a moment to glance down and catch her reaction. “You have always been beautiful, da’asha. Not just for your appearance or your skill, but for your heart. Era’las truly was hope and love embodied. Now you are yourself. You have control of your future and your heart still shines through. Anyone who spends time around you can feel it.”

Felassan brushed a thumb across the swell of her cheek, cupping her chin in his hand. Ara’lan sighed, her breath catching in her throat, and looked up to find him staring intently into her eyes. The sheer focus of his attention and gentle reverence in his touch sent a shiver down her spine.

“You don’t need magic, power, or followers for anyone to love you. All you have to do is smile.” His voice dipped, gaining a roughness she didn't expect. “If that isn’t enough for the Wolf, that’s his loss. I know it was enough for me.”

Another from Sule, Chapter 60, Mahanon and Dorian again:

“Are you alright?”

“No,” Mahanon turned away from the basin to answer Dorian quietly. “But I will be. Don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”

“Of course you don’t,” Dorian quipped, tucking his concern behind a gentle smile. “Running off for a weekend to a salon with beautiful people feeding you fruits while they massage your troubles away is only going to make things take longer. But good to dream about though, yes?”

“A very good dream.” Mahanon sighed. “After Corypheus, then what? Solve centuries of trouble for the Dalish over tea?”

“If anyone could, it would be you.” His tone softened as he studied Mahanon’s face. “Two of the world’s greatest leaders already scramble when you beckon them. They owe you too much to count. I don’t know any cause more worthy of using that influence.”

“You think it would work?”

Dorian laughed. “I know you’re hard headed enough to make them try.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Mahanon smiled. “What would I do without you, vhenan?”

“A lot more moping, I’m sure, but I don’t intend to let you find out.” Dorian traced a finger down his chest, following a stray droplet of water. “Now get to bed before I forget that you’re still healing.”

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Undercover- Throne of Glass AU (6)

Uh so, I do really like this one and I really hope you like it too:)

Warnings: Blood, self harm, talks of suicide and a teeny bit of violence.

Undercover Masterlist.

Full Masterlist.

Have the best gif I could find.

--------

It had been several days since the phone call from Arobynn, since they’d gone and collected his ‘present’, and Rowan still didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on. Manon didn’t speak to anyone other than Dorian; she wouldn’t even leave her room. Aelin always seemed to be torn between going to comfort her, and giving her the space she was obviously asking for. Rowan and Lorcan had tried to piece things together, but still they were left in the dark.

They all filed into the apartment one by one, walking down a small hallway, where everyone stopped short at the sight they were met with in the living room. There was a body in the middle of the room, wrists cuffed and attached to the ceiling by a chain, feet just scraping the floor and a bag over the person’s head. By the looks of the small, barely there twitches, whoever it was, was still alive. “Havilliard, Salvaterre, go and check the rest of the rooms. No one touches the body until I say so.” The boys nodded and did as Aelin- Rowan would get the answers on that name, whether she liked it or not –told them. There was a faint moan, and he, Manon and Aelin turned towards the body, their hands going towards their weapons. Manon checked the windows and the doors to the balcony before shaking her head. All locked and untouched.

“The rest of the place is all clear, boss.” Lorcan said as he and Dorian entered the room. Aelin slowly walked to the body, grasping the bag in one hand before yanking it off. Each of them flinched at the unexpected cry of pain and shock, but it did not come from who they could now see was a woman, hanging from the ceiling. It was Manon who’d let out the noise, hand reaching for something as she collapsed onto her knees. Dorian was there in the blink of an eye, asking her what was wrong as she started shouting;

“Get her down! Get her down now!” Both Rowan and Lorcan rushed forward, taking the weight from the woman’s arms while Aelin started picking the locks to the cuffs. It barely took her a minute before the mystery woman’s hands were free, allowing him and Lorcan to lower her to the ground. Manon crawled from where she was, pushing them out of the way to cradle a blonde haired head in her lap, mumbling as she sobbed. “A-asterin, Asterin wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Dorian let out a choked sound, while Aelin’s eyes had widened, staring at the two women on the floor. “Whitehorn, Lorcan, get her up and down to the car. We have to get her back to the house now.” They moved to do just that, when a phone started ringing, setting them all on edge. Aelin pulled it from her pocket, glaring at the screen before she answered. “You sick fucking bastard, I’ll kill you for this.” That same laughter from earlier in the evening rang out through the room, and Manon growled.

“This is me showing you I am willing to compromise, dearest one. Come home Aelin, come home to me and this all ends here.” Rowan felt his shoulders go stiff, ignoring the way Lorcan eyed him, and moved to lift Manon’s friend into his arms. Aelin was sneering again and the gods help him, but he wanted to go over and comfort her, make her smile the way she had back in the garden. Lorcan was still watching him and he made his face settle into the same blank expression he usually had around everyone.

“Rot in hell, you prick.” And she hung up, ushering them all out of the door and down to the car.

He came out of his memories when he heard the slide of a door, looking up from his place on the swing to see Gavriel come out of the house, Vaughan just behind him. Lorcan was standing to the side of Rowan, arms crossed as he assessed the way the twins were sparring on the grass. They stopped when Rowan looked up to ask Gavriel, “How’s your patient?”

“In and out of consciousness. Manon came out of her room once earlier, telling me that I was to check on her friend every hour, before she disappeared again.” Gavriel sighed, rubbing his forehead.

“Has anyone actually been told anything about that yet? Ro, Lor, you were both there, do we seriously have nothing on this?” Fenrys said, laughing as he dodged Connall’s right hook. Rowan opened his mouth in order to reply but Lorcan beat him to it.

“Don’t look at me, we weren’t told anything. Well actually, if anyone were to be told something, it would be Whitehorn.” Fenrys and Connall stopped what they were doing, joining Gavriel and Vaughan as they all stared at him in confusion.

Rowan stood slowly, turning to his second, neither of them willing to back down as Rowan said through gritted teeth, “And just what, is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not blind you know, I’ve seen the looks you and the bitch have been giving each other when you think no one is watching. I saw the way you acted at what Hamel said that night to her on the phone.”

Fuck it, he had no idea he was being so obvious, but he sure as hell didn’t let anything show now. “This mission is to get in, get close to them, get all of the intel we could and then take them down. So I got in close. What you are seeing, Salvaterre, is me doing my job.” Lorcan only scoffed at him and shook his head, telling the twins to gather their shit so they could all go inside because the bastard was hungry. As they were walking back through the doors, knowing they couldn’t say much, Connall still took the time to tease Lorcan, baiting him for some sort of response.

“He says these things, but what about Lochan? The sexual tension could be cut with a goddamn machete when you two are in the same room, ever since your little fight.” Rowan watched as Lorcan pointedly ignored him for a few minutes as they walked into the kitchen, seemingly trying to put something together that wouldn’t seem weird if they were overhead.

“Oh Please, she’s a looker for sure, but I would not put my cock in that. I would like to keep it attached.” At that moment a throat was cleared from the doorway, causing them to turn suddenly, where the woman in question was now standing. Lorcan’s eyes went wide when he realised she’d probably overheard, and the twins were trying not to laugh at him. Vaughan just looked between the two, shifting on his feet as Elide made her way into the room, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. Gavriel was sitting at the bar, reading the paper, or so it looked as his eyes kept popping up over the top, waiting for the silence to break. Lorcan’s mouth opened and closed several times and Rowan thought Elide was about to cut off whatever bullshit was building, before there was a scream and the sound of something crashing. They were all running towards the sound immediately, coming into the living room to find Ren with Lysandra and Yrene tucked behind him, his gun pointed at a very confused Asterin, who was armed with a knife.

“Where the fuck am I? Who are you people?” She growled, her voice a little scratchy from disuse. Ren didn’t falter, just moved his gun so it pointed at the woman’s head.

“Put that down and we can tell you everything you want to know, but so help me, you come near these women again, I’ll put a fucking bullet between your eyes.” It was at that moment that Manon appeared at the other door, hands shaking as she gestured for Ren to lower his gun. Asterin turned to her, knife clattering to the floor as she flung herself at the other woman, both of them breaking out into sobs at the hug.

Rowan watched on in confusion as Manon breathed out, “You’re alive. How are you alive? There was no way you could have survived that.” Asterin laughed lightly, squeezing tighter before pulling away.

“That is a very, very long story.”

“Then you sit, I’ll grab you something to eat and then we can talk.” Asterin nodded and moved to the sofa, easing herself down into the soft cushions, flinching as Gavriel moved to kneel in front of her with a medical bag. Rowan hadn’t even seen him move to get it.

“Easy, it’s alright, I just want to check your bandages. I’m the one that’s been changing them and helping to get you better, I’m Gavriel, but you can call me Gav if you like.” The woman only nodded and held out her hands, watching him with weary eyes as he peeled the gauze off of her wrists. After the first one was done, Manon walked back in with a plate of food, followed by Dorian, Chaol, Aedion and Aelin.

Once everyone was situated, Asterin started talking and didn’t stop until her voice was hoarse. From what he’d gathered, Manon’s grandmother had sold Manon, Asterin and the rest of their friends into some kind of prostitution ring. They were all stuck in one room of this house hidden somewhere in London, where men would come in and take their pick of them, and the price was higher if you wanted extra time.  She had said there was one night where Sorrel, another girl, had come back in with the keys to their door. All of them had made a break for it until they had been cornered. Asterin had seen her chance to push Manon through a door that led to a hallway, and eventually to the front door. Apparently there were candles in the room because it was one of the rooms where some of the men liked to take their time and have a sort of mood set. Asterin, Sorrel and Vesta, another out of their Thirteen, had grabbed some of them and threw them to the floor, setting a fire to block all of the exits and making sure Manon couldn’t get back to them. Apparently each of the girls had laughed before attacking; making sure the scumbags would go down with them. Asterin had told them she was on the verge of passing out when she vaguely remembered being lifted and carried out. When she had woken up, she was in a new place, but was stuck doing the same thing for Arobynn’s men.

By the time Asterin had gotten it all out, Manon had thrown up at least twice, shaking in Dorian’s arms. Asterin was a pillar of steel where she sat, eyes full of fire, even when Manon asked shakily, “Was anyone else saved?” Asterin turned her head to stare out of the window, hands clenched into fists.

“Vesta was there too. Someone, who I remember they all called Cortland, used to take her away. One time she came back with a dagger she had stolen,” Asterin let out her first unsteady breath, turning back to Manon with tears in her eyes, “she asked me to end it, because she’d had enough. She died in my arms and I almost turned the blade onto myself after, but a guard walked in before I could. I swore then that I’d hold on, long enough to make those men pay, long enough to take out your grandmother. Only then when there was nothing left for me, would I have joined you all in that better world.”

Manon was crying again, almost hyperventilating. “But you had saved me, I still would have been out there. You wouldn’t have tried to find me?”

“They had told me that the ‘one with the pretty gold eyes’ didn’t get very far before they got to you. I was told you were dead, alongside everyone that we loved.” The last words were interrupted by a choked off sound and the two women were in each other's arms once more. Rowan blinked, feeling something wet fall down his cheeks, and lifted a hand to wipe the tears away. When he looked around, everyone was sniffling, faces full of sorrow. Everyone but Aelin, who stood from her seat, body rigid with anger. She drifted past Rowan, fingers grazing the back of his hand as she did so, before kneeling down in front of Asterin. Rowan ignored the tingling feeling her touch had left, watching her remove a small blade from her boot, raising her left hand and displaying her palm, where a faint scar lay. She sliced into her palm, following that old scar, looking directly at the two embracing women as she said;

“I’ll make you the same promise I made to Manon: With the spilling of my own blood, I swear to you that your time for revenge and justice will come. I’ll hand you those who have wronged you on a silver fucking platter, for you to do as you please. If I break this promise to you,” Aelin took her bleeding hand and linked it with Asterin’s left, pressing their palms together, “my blood is on your hands. Free for you to take from me if you deem it, in return for the justice I could not provide.”

It was in that moment, Rowan felt as though his whole world shifted. When this mission was over he’d lose her in each scenario. Either by his own hand, or someone else’s. But this was the mission he was given. He would do what was asked of him, would do what was necessary, even if it broke him in the process.

----------

How do we feel about this one? I may have cried writing it. I was also listening to In This Shirt by The Irrepressibles and To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra so that might not have helped the feelings. If you want a tag then just give me a shout!

Tags: @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares @fancyclodpaintercookie @empress-sei @acourtofterrasenandvelaris​ @tswaney17 @queen-of-glass @thesirenwashere @awkward-avocado-s​ @b00kworm @http-itsrebecca @eatmysandwiches @poisonous00​ @flowersinvegas @julemmaes @mu-si-ca-l @spyofthenightcourt  @sis-it-dont-add-up  @mad-madeline-ace @df3ndyr  @jesstargaryenqueen  @notyournymphetish @carbconnoisseur @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​  @superspiritfestival​ @alyx801​  @dayanna-hatter​

[pikapeppa]

FenHawke baby fluff: Memories At Sea

@lethendralis-paints requested some Fenris x Rynne Hawke spending time with their little man Faren, and how could I resist?? So for @dadrunkwriting Friday, here is a little Papa Fenris fluff! 

This takes place in my “Fenris the Inquisitor” AU, so this is post-Trespasser, after FenHawke have settled in a cabin on the Rivaini coast. And yes, Fenris has both his arms, for Reasons™. 

~2600 words. Read on AO3 here. 

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

Hawke smiled at Fenris. “Ready?” 

“I’m ready,” he said. The late afternoon sun was still high enough to be warm, but not so high as to be blinding. It was low tide, and the waves washing up along the white-sanded Rivaini shoreline were little more than gentle ebbs and flows. 

“All right,” Hawke said, and she smiled at six-month-old Faren. “Here we go!” she cooed. “Are you ready to feel the sea on your feetsies?” 

Faren blinked his big coppery eyes at her, and she chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She kneeled at the shoreline and settled Faren on her lap with his chubby little feet touching the sand. 

She leaned in close to Faren’s ear. “Here it comes,” she murmured. “The tide’s coming in… and… oop!” She gasped playfully as a gently breaking wave lapped at Faren’s feet.

Faren’s eyes went huge, and his feet jerked. Fenris chuckled and crouched down beside them. “Shocking at first, isn’t it?” he said to his son. “You wouldn’t expect it to be so cold, given the warmth of the day.”

“The water’s not cold!” Hawke protested. “It’s practically bathwater!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Bathwater for whom? Fereldens? The Avvar, perhaps?”

She chuckled. “If Dorian was here, he’d say your Tevinter is showing. You hot-weather boys and your complaints.” She tickled Faren’s knee. “I hope you get my sturdy constitution, Faren. I don’t mind a little cold.”

“Says the woman who spent the entirety of our time in Emprise du Lion begging me to share my body heat,” Fenris said pointedly. 

“Oh, I wasn’t cold then,” she said. “I was just horny.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth to hide his smile, then gave her a chiding look. “Can you refrain in front of the baby?” 

“No can do, sorry,” she said cheerfully. “Let him know how much his mum is gagging for his dad. Oh, here comes another wave! And… oop!” 

This time when the water touched Faren’s feet, he smiled and haphazardly waved one hand, and Fenris smiled at his raven-haired son. “It is better once you’ve had some time to get used to it,” he told Faren. “We will have you swimming in no time.”

Faren gave him a gummy smile. Another wave began crawling up the sand toward them, and this time when it touched Faren’s feet, he squealed happily and waved both his hands. 

Hawke laughed — that lovely sparkling laugh that never failed to lift and ease Fenris’s heart. “Such an adventurous little turnip!” she crooned. “I think we should get you standing up now. Yes, I do.” She lifted Faren onto his feet and supported him carefully beneath his armpits as he tottered, very slowly and clumsily, on the damp shoreline. 

Another wave began to climb up along the sand, and Faren bounced excitedly in Hawke’s hands as the wave approached. When the wave reached him, it washed up to his knees with a tiny splash, and Faren shrieked again.

Hawke and Fenris both laughed, and Fenris watched adoringly as Hawke chatted to Faren while supporting his chubby body. Faren was only six months old, so there was no chance that he would remember this particular moment — his first time ever touching the sea. But still, this would be the first of many such moments in the sea: the first of a string of peaceful and pleasant little moments with his parents holding his little hands and encouraging his curious nature. 

Over time, these moments would build on each other like layers of lacquer growing more lustrous and brilliant with time, until one day Faren would have a concrete memory in his mind of splashing in the sea and loving it, thanks to his mother’s tender hands and her bright and brilliant laugh. 

His memory of the sea will be so different than mine, Fenris thought. After all, his first memory of the sea was during his time in Minrathous under Danarius’s control. 

He still remembered that first time following Danarius to the docks on one of the rare times that Danarius deigned to go somewhere so common. The Nocen Sea coastline was busy and noisy and grim, populated by magisters lording over their browbeaten slaves, and when Fenris had looked at the sea for the first time that he could remember, all he could see was a brownish-green fathomless depth that echoed the deadened emptiness in his heart. 

But the Nocen Sea was only the first coastline that Fenris had seen. Years later, after he’d arrived in Kirkwall and made Hawke’s acquaintance, he saw the sea for the first time again.

A few weeks after he began travelling around with Hawke and her friends, they’d taken a trip to the Wounded Coast, and Fenris still remembered taking in that stark landscape for the first time. The sky was a surreal haze of orange and pink that reflected off of the oddly still waters of the Waking Sea, and there were stony spires of rock jutting out of the water like enormous splintered rib cages piercing into the sky. 

“Well, it’s official,” he said. “I have travelled all the way from the northern coastline to the southern.”

“You know this isn’t the end of the continent, right?” Hawke said.

He gave her a chiding look. “I’m well aware, Hawke.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “For a second I thought you’d forgotten all about Ferelden.”

“I haven’t, no,” he said. “But I’ll become acquainted with one foreign land at a time.”

“Ooh, a one-country-at-a-time sort of fellow, are you?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I like that in a man.”

On her other side, Varric scoffed. “I can’t decide whether you or the Rivaini is the worse flirt.”

“Hey, that’s unfair,” Hawke complained. “I’m at a disadvantage. Isabela’s got her gorgeous rack to do half her talking for her.”

Fenris studied her surreptitiously as she bantered with Varric. Her body might not be as lushly curved as Isabela’s, but Fenris still found himself eyeing her more often than he felt strictly comfortable about, considering that he and Hawke were still practically strangers. And considering that she was a mage. 

He forced his gaze back to the coastline instead. It was so calm here – so quiet. Aside from the giant spiders and bandits they’d encountered on their way here, of course. But compared to the noisy, busy, depressing docks of Minrathous, the stark and intimidating scenery of the Wounded Coast was more than welcome. 

“I wonder why it’s called the Wounded Coast?” Hawke mused. “Is this near the Injured Cliffs, maybe? Or the Limping Hills?” She smirked up at Fenris. “Maybe we’re off the coast of Massive Head Trauma Bay?”

Varric snorted, and Fenris frowned slightly. “If you don’t like it here, why did you lead us here?”

Her eyes widened. “What makes you think I don’t like it here?”

“Your unflattering remarks?” he said dryly.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m just being silly. I actually think it’s pretty here.”

“You do?” He was surprised. He’d been thinking the same thing, but he was surprised that he wasn’t the only one to appreciate the rather barren landscape.

“Of course!” she said. “It’s striking, isn’t it? I mean, it’s no Orlesian cultured garden, but it’s still pretty.” She pointed to the jutting peaks of stone. “Those spiky rock things are really… I mean, all right, they’re spiky. But I love the way the water’s carved patterns into the stone.”

Fenris eyed her in silence for a moment until she looked up at him. She blinked. “What?” 

“You’re quite the optimist, aren’t you?” he said.

She laughed. “You say that like an insult.”

“Not an insult,” he said. “An observation.”

“A critical observation?” she said with a mischievous smile. 

“I…” He frowned, then awkwardly rubbed his hair. “My apologies. I don’t mean it to be. It’s just…”I’ve never met anyone quite like you before, he thought. Her own circumstances of being in Kirkwall were far from rosy or ideal, but one would never know it from the way she joked and flirted.

He couldn’t say any of that, though. It felt far too personal considering he hardly knew her. 

She chuckled. “I’m just teasing you. Of course I’m an optimist.” She bowed dramatically to him. “Rynne Hawke, cavalier fool and optimist at your service.”

Varric tapped her arm. “Maybe we should go be cavalier and optimistic with the others. They’ve run off ahead.” 

“Yes yes, of course!” Hawke chirped. “We can’t let them kill every thug on the coast without us.” 

Varric smirked and walked away, and Hawke turned back to the view and scoffed. “Wounded Coast, they say? More like Picturesque Coast.” 

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.” 

“It doesn't, does it?” she said agreeably. “I’ll have Varric come up with a better name. Either way, it’s a pretty coastline.” She winked at him and wandered away. 

He pursed his lips. Trust Hawke to find the beauty in something wounded. 

He admired the peaks of stone rising from the water to reach toward the sky. Then he turned away from the view to follow Hawke’s carefree steps. 

“Fenris? Are you coming?” 

He blinked and looked up. Hawke was standing ankle-deep in the water with Faren in her arms.

He smiled and nodded, then stepped into the water to join her. Faren gurgled and reached for Fenris, and Hawke kissed his plump cheek before handing him over.

“You disappeared for a moment there,” she said to Fenris. “What were you thinking about?” 

“The sea,” he said. “What it’s like to see it for the first time.” He looked away at the horizon, stretching off into the distance as far as the eye could see. “Faren won’t remember what it’s like to set his eyes on the sea for the first time,” he said softly. “It’s… strange to think he won’t remember something so momentous.” He stroked his son’s back and thought of that moment again, of seeing the Waking Sea for the first time with Hawke by his side, and how her sunny spin had elevated that moment from something mundane to something special – something that stuck in his mind even to this day, fourteen years later when he and Hawke were taking their child into the sea for the first time. 

Hawke stroked his arm. “But it’s good though, right? Having him grow up somewhere with such a gorgeous view? He can wake up every day and voilà, there’s the beach just a few steps away!” She gestured grandly at the aquamarine expanse that swished and flowed around their calves. 

“Of course it’s good,” Fenris said. “I don’t mean to suggest otherwise. I’m simply… awed by the contrast, I suppose.” He pressed his lips to Faren’s raven-haired head and inhaled his baby-sweet scent, then gazed at Hawke. “The only early life I can recall was written in pain and blood. I could remember clearly that I remembered nothing, and that blankness was…” He swallowed hard. “It became more painful than the marks, in time.” 

“I know,” she said softly. 

He smiled faintly at her, then gently patted Faren’s back. “His memories are an unwritten book. They will be seamless and whole. He won’t know why he loves the sea, but that love will be written there. A page of his story, tucked safely in his mind.” 

Hawke shifted closer to him and looped her arm around his waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to regain your memories?” she asked. “Cole could help. We could try and write him a letter. Do a little Avvar ritual to get his attention from the Fade.” Her tone was playful, but her smiling amber eyes were serious. 

“I do consider it sometimes, still,” Fenris admitted. Then he smiled at her. “But not today. This day is not about the past.” He bounced Faren gently in his arms. “This is a day for new memories, isn’t it, little man?”

Faren cooed and patted Fenris’s face, and Fenris chuckled. “All right. There is a wave approaching, so let’s see how you feel about this…” He crouched until the water was up to his waist.

The water was licking at Faren’s calves. Faren squealed and gripped Fenris’s ear, and Fenris smiled. “Brace yourself. Here it comes.”

The wave washed up to the middle of Faren’s back. Faren’s eyes grew impossibly wide, then his face started to scrunch. 

Fenris winced in anticipation of the impending wail. “Uh-oh.”

“No no!” Hawke said quickly. She knelt in the water and tickled Faren’s neck. “Don’t you cry! The sea is wonderful, look!” She watched another incoming wave with a huge smile, and when it washed over herself and Faren and Fenris, she gasped and clapped her hands. “Yay!” she cheered. “The sea is such fun, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“Yes, it is,” Fenris said with a smile. Faren was staring wide-eyed at Hawke, and his face was no longer squinched into an almost-wail. When the next wave came, the baby smiled.

“Yes, that’s it!” Hawke said brightly. “It’s fun, you see? Look!” She took a big breath and ducked her head beneath the water, then popped back up a second later. “Ta-dah!”

Faren squealed and waved his hands. Hawke played peek-a-boo with Faren a few more times, and it wasn’t long before Faren was laughing uproariously in that pure and uncontrolled sort of way that never failed to make his parents laugh as well. 

Hawke sighed happily and slicked her wet hair back from her face. “Ooh, come here, you little turnip.” She gently took Faren from Fenris’s arms, and he smiled helplessly as his wife and son laughed together. 

“He sounds just like you when he laughs,” Fenris said.

She grinned at him. “He does not!”

“He does,” Fenris said. “He sounds exactly like you.” 

She giggled, then tipped her chin up and batted her eyelashes. “Well, he looks just like you. The two most handsome boys I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris scoffed, then leaned in and kissed her smiling lips. A moment later, she pulled away and beamed at the baby. “How about we take another dip, hm? Yes, let’s do just that!” She waded a little further into the water, and Fenris watched them with a feeling of warmth and fullness in his chest. She was pointing to the waves and to the gulls floating lazily overhead, telling Faren how lovely and interesting everything was, and Fenris realized something sweet: as different as his and Faren’s early memories would be, there was one enormously important thing – one enormously important person – that would tie them both together.

It was Hawke. More than ten years ago, she’d spoken to Fenris of the beauty of the sea, and now she was pointing out the very same beauty to their son. 

He waded toward her and slid his arms around her waist from behind, and she smiled at him and continued speaking to Faren. “... and one day, when you have better control over your own arms and legs, Auntie Isabela will teach you to dive for treasure, and you can see all the fishes and corals and crabs that live under the water! Ooh, that will be so exciting.” 

Faren burbled and patted her chin, and she laughed — the same joyful burbling laugh that she’d passed on to their son. Fenris inhaled the salty sea air and held his family in his arms, and as the rolling waves tugged at his legs and washed soothingly around his waist, he cherished the making of this new memory in the sea. 

[merci-bitch]

I Can Make You Love Me

Riza’s girl part ll 

Riza Stavropol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Drama, small hint of NSFW, angst

Words: 3k

Warning(s): knife mark, small hint of smut, cursing, manipulation, angst

A/N: well, I’m surprised I even finished this. This doesn’t particularly mean I’m back but I’ve been fighting my own stuff but I’m starting to come back at least haha. I haven’t read through it so sorry if there’s any misspelling or stuff. Anyways, enjoy!

I was soaked in a pool of sweat and the heat blazing down from the sun on us through her widow didn't make the situation any better. I felt like I was in a sauna and I definitely felt tired. I could feel Riza's piercing blue eyes like the clear waters of Greece targeting me. Marking me.

"Well, how was it?" I rolled over on my side to look at her. I had two options, of an answer. One would please her very much and the other one, meh. It would piss her off.

"Terrible." I mussed sarcastically. I watched the cocky smirk on her face fade and I let out a laugh. "You little bitch!" She playfully smacked my ass. "Naughty girl, aren't you?" She bit her bottom lip and watched me carefully.

"When I want to be." I smiled. Riza leant her head down and crashed her own lips onto mine. Her teeth bitting my bottom lip for an entry to my mouth. Hesitantly, I opened my mouth and felt her tongue mix with my own. She was dominating me. When she pulled away we were both panting and she looked satisfied. "I take it back. My good girl." She pulled me close and caressed my face.

I felt content in her arms but I was still on edge. "Darling?" She loosened her grip on me and cubbed my cheek with her hand. "What's wrong?" I looked down before answering. "I-sorry, I'm just...I'm just a little worried about H."

"H?" She looked angry and kinda surprised. "We just had sex and now you're thinking of H?!" She sat up.

"R-Riza, I didn't mean-"

"Oh no, my darling. You did mean it. You most certainly did. I told you he's an asshole, Y/N. I told you he's no good." Her eyes gleamed with malicious intent and I felt scared. Scared she was going to hurt me even worse then she already did.

"You still love him, don't you?" Riza was almost on the border of yelling. "Don't you?!" She got in my face and that's when I pushed her off of me.

"No! But I still care about him and he's trying his best. He's the only person I have left who's like family to me and don't I have the right to feel anyway I want? Or do you own that too." I knew that I was playing with fire but despite the fear I had for Riza, she was so beautiful when she was mad. I couldn't help but love it. How her nose would curl, adorable.

"Yes. You do but not when we're in the middle of something ourselves! For example, finishing sex! You love me, don't you?" She started to sound desperate.

"Riza-"

"You want me. The way you've never wanted anyone befo-"

"You know I do but I told you, I believe in chances and right now? You're about to lose yours. As soon as I said those words, Riza's face dropped. A part of me regretted what I had said. She looked hurt. Betrayed. She lied down again and turned her back towards me. "Riza...Riza, I'm sorry."

"I'm not speaking to you." She said after a few minutes. Her tone was cold and it made me feel uncomfortable. "Riza, I didn't mean to hurt you but I'm worried."

"Worried about him? Worried about that fucking traitor? He's a jerk. I told you that." She spun around and looked at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you but I care about you, okay? I care about you more then I've cared about anyone in a while and I don't want to lose you. Her eyes turned soft.

"You won't lose me, okay? I care about you too, but I can at least have the right to know that he's alright." Riza let out a sigh. "If I tell you he's alright, will you leave the topic be?" She kissed my nose and help me tight to her. "..Yes." I breathed inwardly.

"Then he's fine. I promise." Despite the anxiety I felt, I trusted her words and slowly began to snuggle into her. "Thank you." She ran her fingers through my hair and gave my forehead a kiss. "Get some rest." I nodded my head and clutched onto her tightly. She was so warm and smelled so sweet despite all the sweat she was caked in. "I love you."

"I love you too, my precious girl."

***

"You bitch! This is the final straw!"

"We'll see about that."

H looked down at the ground, frowning as he'd seen you coming in and out of consciousness. "You hurt her Riza! Why would you do that? I told you that this is between you and me."

"But it's not though." She kicked the ground, showing off her tone legs through her silk dress. "Haven't you missed me, H?"

"Missed you? The thought of you repulses me. Especially now. You're lucky I haven't killed you after what you did." H said as he slowly started backing down the hallway and Riza chuckled. "Oh pretty boy, you forget that I can read you like the back of my hand." Riza pressed her body close to him and pinned him to the wall.

"Not anymore. I'm a changed person." She held his face in her hands and smiled. "Sure you are." Riza slipped one of her hands underneath his shirt, scratching the bare skin of his chest. His eyes rolled back and Riza couldn't help but smile. "And you say I don't know you."

"Riza-" He meet her eyes almost as if he was in a trace. "H." She mumbled. Their lips nearly grazed each other when H noticed her extra arm moving around him. "What are you-"

BAM!

The smashed barrel of her gun hit the top of his head. H looked puzzled for a moment and Riza smiled, pushing him away from her. "How did you-" He slurred his words before dropping to the ground.

***

"Oh come on, H! One more dance, please!" H winced at the high pitched voice of the woman that had her arm wrapped around his waist but tolerated it. He was hammered from all the alcohol he had been drinking but who could blame him?

It was a long dat at the agency and he needed a break from it all. "Amanda, I would say yes but I'm afraid I'm spent for the night an I must get going."

"But H-"

"No Amanda. Now if you'll excuse me-" H turned around and walked straight into the chest of two alien men. "You're the agency scum that got your hands on our girl?"

The question took him off guard. Their girl? "What, I-I! Know? Come on guys that would be ridiculous." He chuckled nervously. "Wouldn't it?"

The two men in front of him didn't seem amused. The one bulkier grabbed him by his throat and pressed him against the wall. "You calling me liar?"

"No! I-I..." H felt the blood circulating through him becoming less and less. "Let him be, Dorian. He's with me. Aren't you, darling?"

H choked on his own breath and looked up at the face of savior. It was a woman, and she was beautiful. "My apologies, Riza." She let out a humming noise and pulled a blaster out of her silk dress. H got a quick glimpse of her sheer underwear and felt himself swell up with lust.

"Sure." Riza shot him and screams of panic were erupted inside the bar. H just sat there on the ground looking at her confusedly until he noticed she had extended her hand out towards him. "Shall we?"

Despite how wrong he knew it was, he took her hand and walked out the bar with her hand in hand. "What's your name handsome?"

"H. Agent H."

"Oh, an agent. Well, I'm Riza. Riza Stavros."

"Riza, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She hummed. They come across a tan, Moroccan style building and Riza smiled. "I would take you back to my place, but sadly. I'm on business."

"Of course." Riza grabbed the keys out of her bra and unlocked the door, kicking off her heels right as she stepped in the door. H was baffled by her. He was sure she had to be one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. "Sit, darling." Riza gestured to the couch as she rummaged through one of the cabinets of her hotel room. Pulling out a glass tumbler.

"You drink whiskey?" She looked over at H while holding up the bottle. "Yes, thank you." She poured him a glass and poured one for herself and sat down next to him on the couch and handed him his glass. H took a taste, it burned his throat at first but left a smooth aftertaste.

��So what’s an agent like yourself doing here?”

The alcohol burned in his throat but left a sweet aftertaste. He thought carefully before responding. Though he didn’t know what good it would do. It was like Riza was staring into his soul. “Looking for a good time, I suppose.”

“Good time with the wrong woman, my dear.” She caressed his cheek with the back of her thumb and smiled. “You’re such a beautiful man, aren’t you? Pretty boy.” Riza said while crawling onto his lap. H didn’t know what to do or what to say. He was shell shocked and drunk.

Riza peppered kisses on his face and down his throat and H moaned. “Lustful for me already, aren’t you?” H didn’t respond. Part of him wanted to shove the woman on top of him aside but he just, couldn’t. She was just too, goddess like. “Y-Yes.”

***

H woke up, rubbing the back of his head. Shaking his head. That’s when he realised, he was stuck to a bloody chair. After minutes of fighting with the ties, he got lose and stood up. H’s iconic smile back on his sweet baby face. “Never do know how to tie me up, now do you Riza.”

H slowly walked out the room, moving around slowly. Begging for that big blue teddy monster not to walk around the corner. Coast is clear. H walked down the long hallway and despite the years since he’d been here. He almost no trouble finding his way around. All those drunk nights with Riza. Her hands scratching up his chest, back. Her sweet lips on his-no. Not this time. Get Y/N and get out of here.

H was too deep in thought, missing a step. “Shit!” Covering his mouth quickly. Looking around. Surprise, no one was around. H shakes his head again and continued down the hallway and took a sharp left turn. There was a door, cracked open. Hesitantly H opened it.

“Oh god.” H said as he turned back around. There she was, Y/N. But naked. He’d never seen her naked before. H felt his cheeks grown hot, like some middle  aged school boy. Damn Riza, for getting them into this. H knew that Y/N was going to be embarrassed when she saw him. If, she ever got to see him of course,

H didn’t trust Riza as far as he’d known her. How the hell did he know that she wasn’t fake sleeping?

Hesitantly he walked over to Y/N and shook her, softly. H didn’t wanna wake her almost. So looked so peaceful when she was asleep. Y/N let out a small groan and opened her eyes. “H..? Oh my god! H!” Her arms flew around his neck. H tensed his shoulders. He didn’t know if he should hug her back or not, afraid of upsetting her. “Riza told me you were alright but I thought I’d never see you again!” Ever so carefully, H ran his hand through Y/N’s soft hair. Glancing over at Riza. “Well, she definitely isn’t awake. That’s for sure. Or I’d be dead by now.”

H couldn’t help the thoughts about Y/N. Damn Riza for making him think this way about her! “Look Y/N, we don’t have much time. We need to get out of here. Your clothes?” Y/N pointed to the end of the bed. H tossed Y/N her clothes and let her get changed. H helped Y/N our of the bed, that’s when Riza stirred. Both H and Y/N panicked. The balcony! They both walked out on it and Y/N pushed H to the side.

“Now why on earth would you do that?” Riza’s deep and raspy voice sent shivers down both H and Y/N’s spines. “Do what?” Y/N asked. Riza walked up to Y/N. “This.” She gestured to her clothed body. The moon was shining on her skin, highlighting the most seductive parts.

“It felt weird to run around naked.” Riza ran her hand up Y/N’s sides. Placing one of her hands on her breast. Kneading it softly. Starting to fumble with her jeans. “I can make it more comfortable for you if you like.” Y/N let out a soft moan and leaned her head back against Riza’s collarbones. H wanted to throw up at the sight of it. The smell of sex permeating off of Riza. This scene was getting almost too nostalgic for him. H tried his very best not to let his eyes wander with how Riza’s hand touched Y/N’s body. How her mouth would launch for her throat and leave small marks.

“Why don’t you come back inside, sweetheart. Hm? What do you say.” Riza’s voice was like honey running. “Riza, we just did it. There’s no need to do it again.” H could hear Riza scoff. “You can’t be serious. It’s sex darling. Something you could do a whole day. And I’ve got a very busy day in a few hours. I need something to calm me down.” H felt himself gag. He took a few steps back and accidentally made a plant fall. Riza snapped her head around. “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. LUCA!” Riza tied her rope around herself and grabbed Y/N’s arm and dragged her inside and once again, H found himself fighting with an old friend.

—

“Am I some sort of joke to you?!” Riza screamed at my face. I shaked my head. Tears burning in the back of my eyes. Riza’s cheeks burning up with anger. Riza took steps back and threw her hands on her sides and scoffed and grabbed the wine bottle on her office table. “R-Riza..?” She threw the cork across the room. “Shut up. Just fucking shut up. You humans, fucking useless.” She scoffed again and started drinking directly from the wine bottle. I sat down, pulling my knees to my chest. This could only go bad.

After 3 wine bottles, she was finally starting to get tipsy. Tipsy Riza was alright, but if it was drunk angry Riza. Run for your fucking life. Where was H when you needed him?!

“Oh drop it, H won’t come this time for you. He’d be dead before he can even spell your fucking name.” Riza held the bottle to her chest and laughed out loud. This wasn’t fun anymore. “Awh, is the little human scared? You want your mommy?” She started taking small steps towards me. Making me back away slowly, towards the stone wall. The floor cold, dirty. Filled with smashed glass. She got down on her knees and crawled towards me. Giving me a good view of her cleavage. My back was against the wall, her nose touching mine. Her eyes dark and cloudy.

“Scared little puppet? Huh? Yeah? Yes!” Her voice, getting higher and higher, and she was getting more insane. “You humans don’t understand anything. Fucking pathetic!” She got even closer. She was a living nightmare. “R-Riza...” With a shaking hand, I reached up and cupped her cheek, only for her to grab my wrist and pull me up and drag me to her desk where she grabbed a knife.

“Riza, no. Let go of it!” She held out my arm and looked at me with blinded eyes and started carving the letter ‘R’ into my skin. Screaming out in pain, pushing her away. Holding my wrist, covering it up in the paper I could find. Riza turned back around and looked at me. Seeing the tears spilling down my cheeks, the blood moving down my arm. She dropped the knife. Her own hands starting to shake. “Y-Y/N, o-oh my god.”

She reached out for me, only for me to move away. Her eyes filling with panic. “I-I don’t know what came over me. Y/N, please let me help.” I shook my head and got up. “No. I’m not letting you help me. I loved you Riza, but this, this is not the Riza I loved.” Her breath shaky. “Wait, no. Please. I can make it up to you. I can love you just as good as he can!” I shook my head. “Riza no. You can see yourself. This is never gonna work.” She shook her head and walked up to me and cubbed my cheeks.

“I can make it work. I can make you love me.”

[jewishzevran]

between the shadow and the soul

thirty-five: “can i have one last kiss?” / requested by @purahs​ and @dalish-gloves​

a/n: massive spoiler alert for trespasser dlc

“tell me of something fiercer than the love with which i gaze upon you

or something softer than the tenderness with which i hold you.”- sanober khan

It had been hours. 

That morning, they had woken up in the Winter Palace, and Anders had helped Ori dress ready for the Inquisition hearing. The last of their companions had arrived. Dorian had announced he had been made a Magister. Everything was going smoothly. 

Then that damned qunari corpse had shown up and Ori had been travelling back and forth through eluvians all day, trying to find out what the hell was going on. The last time she disappeared, she’d winked at him and told him she’d be ten minutes. Anders had watched the sun set and almost rise since then. The sky was stained pink and yellow in the light of dawn. Birds were starting to chirrup in the bushes and trees. And Ori had still not returned. He was going mad.

He paced the courtyard, wringing his hands and at a total loss for what else to do. He couldn’t eat, even if there was food available; his stomach was far too knotted and he could taste bile in his throat. He hadn’t tried to sleep. How was everyone so damned calm? Anders was going spare because Ori was his wife, but that aside, she was the Inquisitor, the reason everyone was here; she had been missing for over half a day and people had just eaten dinner and gone to bed as usual. Like nothing was wrong. 

There was a loud crash from inside the cellhouse, and his skin tingled with latent magic. He felt giddy with relief for about three seconds before Bull’s voice echoed up the stairs. 

“We need help, NOW!”

Maker, no. 

Dread started to make Anders’ head swim as he almost fell down the stairs, bursting into the room and taking in the scene in front of him. Dorian was grey and looking incredibly panicked, Varric looked grim-faced and utterly out of his depth, and Bull was - Bull was - 

Bull was kneeling on the tiles, cradling Ori in his arms. She was limp, barely conscious, and writhing in pain. Her skin was ashen, she was covered in sweat, and her left arm was hanging uselessly at her side. Anders’ eyes followed the line down to her hand and almost fell over. 

It was stone. Frozen like a statue. He could see tendrils of it slowly creeping up her wrist and forearm, and his hands flew to his mouth before he dropped to his knees in front of Bull.

"We still don't know what happened," Bull said through gritted teeth. "She followed the Viddesala through an eluvian and came back like this. She’s said a few words here and there but she’s barely coherent, and half of what she has said has been in broken elvish.”

Anders pulled Ori into his lap, running his fingers over her forehead, letting frost crystallise in her hairline in an attempt to cool her down. She was writhing and moaning, and her eyes rolled to look at him. It broke his heart.

“Ori? Ori, darling, can you hear me? Talk to me. Help me understand.”

"Anders?" she whispered, frowning and trying to focus on him. 

"Yes, darling. It's me. I'm here. What happened?"

She murmured something he couldn't hear and screamed with pain again, her breath coming in shallow pants. Anders was vaguely aware that there were people shouting and scrambling around outside, and he could hear a bell tolling in the distance. 

"Ori, love, please. Tell me if you can. Anything that will help." He placed a hand over her chest, radiating blue light, and sent pain relief coursing through her system. She relaxed a fraction, and held his gaze a little clearer.

"Solas, he's… he's the dread wolf. He's Fen'harel. Spies everywhere. You have to tell the Warden-Commander. She has to know. You have to tell her. She'll help. She'll stop him. He - my arm - stone magic to stop the anchor spreading-" She cut off with another scream of agony, and Anders felt tears starting to burn in his eyes.

Anders took a deep breath, letting the familiar calm wash over him, and allowed the chaos around him dissolve into quiet. He could see the tendrils of the strange magic curling around her arm: a blue so pale and stark it was almost white. He felt it too, unforgiving, forceful, and relentless. 

Ori reached up to cup his face with her good hand. "I love you, Anders. I love you so much. Don't forget that, please, please don't ever forget how much I love you."

Anders' heart sank. "No, no Ori, you don't get to say that. You can tell me that later when we've worked out how to stop this-"

"It feels cold." She rasped. "It hurts so much. It's like frostbite but heavy. I don't think I can - I don't -"

"Shhh, shhh love," Anders said, starting to cry freely. "It will be ok. I promise you."

"Vhenan, please… can I have one last kiss?"

"No. Ori, don't, I'll save you, I promise. I’ll kiss you a hundred times when this is fixed -”

“Anders, we’re running out of time, please-”

Anders had never been able to deny Ori anything, and he sobbed as he leant down to press a fierce kiss against her cold and clammy lips. “I love you, Ori. You are my life.”

“I know, vhenan,” Ori whispered, voice trembling as her own tears rolled down over her temples and into her hair. “Thank you for seeing me.”

As she fell limp in his arms, finally succumbing to unconsciousness, panic, grief and rage all rose to a blinding cacophony in Anders’ chest. He delved into the very bottom of his mana pool and blasted as much healing energy as he possibly could directly at her arm, gripping it tightly, willing something, anything to work. He pulled on the threads of his healing magic and weaved them round the skin, but it did nothing, he tried to dispel the magic, he tried to force the curse out of her, but everything he attempted was like hitting a brick wall with a feather. 

Help me!

There is nothing that can be done, Anders. This is magic not even I recognise. It is ancient and powerful. If you do not stop it spreading, Anders, Ori will become stone. She will die. 

I can’t let her die, I can’t, I can’t, you have to help, there must be SOMETHING!

Other people were in the room now, other healers trying to pull Ori from his lap. He held firm, refusing to let her go, glowing so brightly with magic that he could see Bull and Dorian squinting. 

“Don’t touch her!” Anders yelled, tightening his grip on her shoulders, needing the warmth of her body against her to remind him she was still here, still alive. 

Be calm, Anders. 

Anders was about to retort to Justice when he realised he was right. He was no good to Ori lashing out like an animal caught in a trap. He took another deep breath, and extinguished the magic in his hands, looking up at the other healers, forcibly keeping a hold of himself. “It’s old magic. Ancient, even. I don’t recognise it. I don’t think it can be stopped. The longer we try to hold it back, the further it’s going to spread.” 

One of the other healers crouched beside him. “I know the two of you are married, but you’re the most senior healer here. Do you feel able to make the call?”

Anders felt his stomach lurch as he realised what he was going to have to do to save Ori’s life. She would never braid her own hair again, and for that alone, she might never forgive him, but he couldn’t let her die. Not as his patient, and not as his wife. He nodded. “We have to amputate the arm,” he said, and when the words left his lips, they didn’t feel real. “At this point, physical intervention is the only way to stop it spreading.”

The next 15 minutes were a blur. Anders stood, lifting Ori with him. The other healers left, and he followed, being led to a private room in the palace, where he gently lay her on the bed, and they began preparations. It felt odd, almost as though he was sitting back and watching whilst his body moved of its own accord. He was calm and level headed, just as if this was a normal surgery and not a life-saving operation for his wife. He was given surgical tools. He made sure the environment was sterile. He washed his hands, three times just to be sure. He could feel the panic simmering in the back of his mind, waiting for a moment where it could release, where he could scream and cry and process the fact he was watching his wife turn to stone before his eyes, but he was good at this, and he knew how to lock it away. 

The surgery itself took remarkably little time. When it was done, Anders cleaned his instruments, thanked the other healers, then when he and Ori were alone in the room, he crawled onto the bed beside her, pulled her close to his chest, and wept. Relief flooded through him, relief mixed with terror and profound loss; Meredith could rise from the bloody dead and it wouldn’t move him now, nothing else mattered except the fact that Ori was alive.  

When she woke up, he was going to kiss her as often as she could stand. 

[saunteringhusbands]

“What are your thoughts on me?” Jason looks down at Roy who begged the question while tying his shoes. Jason opened his mouth, though nothing came out, as he wasn’t quite sure what it implied. Roy rose up, locked eyes with the other boy. Looked to his lips then back up, studied those blue eyes and waited. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the response was gravelly. He turned his back on the red-head to put on his jacket. 

Roy grabbed at Jason’s hand and tugged. He spun him around and took a step forward, holding the other man in place. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Jason stared down at their hands, eyes transfixed on how perfectly their fingers tied together. Roy was right. He knew exactly what he meant. He couldn’t answer yet, though, the words weren’t there and any spoken would simply be forced. He leaned forward instead, squeezed the hand he was holding and parted his lips and fell into Roy. And one could say that was an answer enough for Roy. He smiled into the kiss and moved his arms to embrace Jason. Both consider it the start of their life together.

Not much time passes, some months, maybe a year maybe two. They’re shopping downtown, in some furniture store and Jason is looking at plates. He’s holding a blue one in his hands, inspecting its ridges. Roy looks up from a selection of hand cloths to focus on Jay. He smiles softly. 

“What are your thoughts on moving in together?” Roy asks, stalking over. 

Jason raises an eyebrow, ponders slightly, and bites his lip. He eyes the atrocious, bright orange wash cloth in Roy’s hand. “Fine,” he starts, “but only if I’m in charge of the decor.” He tears the cloth away and gives Roy a kiss in place of it. It’ll simply have to do.

They’re walking through the park. It’s warm, that first solid week of spring when all signs of winter are out of sight, out of mind, and the flowers begin to bud. They’re hand in hand, strolling down the sidewalk path. Neither is really talking, save for simple phrases, lines about the weather and a bird over yonder and what they’ll have for dinner. Things are good for them right now. 

Roy takes mental notes of the dogs. He turns to Jason, ever so suddenly. The corner of his lip rises and he looks down at the ground thoughtfully. 

“What are your thoughts on getting a dog?” 

Jason chuckles. They spend the rest of the afternoon spit-balling names back and forth. They spend the following day picking out chew toys and a leash and collar and harness and food bowls and a bed at the local pet store. By the weekend they’re at the shelter, wandering up and down aisles of kennels. They find a pitbull named Raptor. Jason chats with the receptionist and fills out adoption papers. Roy sits with the dog on the ground, covering him in kisses, scratches, and belly rubs. Jason smiles at the sight.

They just finished dinner, a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and corn. Jason cooked the majority of it, and he does the dishes now, scrubbing away at their plates and setting them aside to be dried. He hears Roy enter the kitchen and teases him with a comment about having to do dishes alone. No response. He rolls his eyes and shuts the water off, drying his hands, ready to say something else, but Roy beats him to it.

“What are your thoughts on marriage?”

Jason’s jaw drops the slightest bit. He turns around. Roy is knelt before him on the ground, a look of pure wonder on his face. One hand is caressing an open box, revealing a simple gold ring. The other reaches out for Jason. He grabs that hand, pulling Roy up. There’s a foot of space between the two and neither’s quite sure what to do. One is holding on anxiously, awaiting an answer he’d hoped would come without thought. The other is terrified. His mind is going a million miles a minute. He loves Roy. He’s sure he loves Roy. Yet, there’s still a tugging, a fear. 

It doesn’t matter. It can’t possibly matter. From their last four years together, Roy has given Jason everything he could ever possibly need; every ounce of solace, every kiss, every hug, every dance, every smile. Life with Roy is comfort. It’s serenity. It’s everything he’s never had, everything he’s longed for.

He collapses then, into freckled arms, an embrace. “Yes,” he relieves. “God fucking yes, Roy, god do I want to marry you.”

They spend the night covering one another in kisses, drinking the finest wine their cupboard could serve them, straight from the bottle. They make plans. They aren’t in a rush, but they are in love, and perhaps there isn’t much of a difference. 

Their wedding is small. Immediate family and friends only. Alfred walks Jason down the aisle. They marry and eat cake and Dick gives a speech about each of the grooms and they spend the night dancing to a shitty playlist put together by Tim. Oliver and Bruce try to outdo each other with wedding gifts. And at the end of the night, when it’s just the pair of them, Red Hood and Arsenal, Robin and Speedy, Jason and Roy, they hold one another close and talk in soft voices, breath entwining, much like their bodies beneath the sheets. They speak of love and promises. 

Months later. Roy is working at the dining room table, clicking away on his laptop. Jason is in the living room, rereading Hamlet for the umpteenth time, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. He loves that damn ring. Once so afraid of the weight it might bring, he’s been met with the utter opposite. He finds relief in it all. In having someone to hold onto when the nights get long, look forward to on the stressful days, lounge with when the outside world is gray and he’s in need of a day off. They work together. Everything aligned so perfectly, fit so snugly, like pieces of a puzzle. 

Jason’s never been happier.

He looks up now and is met with the image of Roy standing in the door frame, laptop in his hands still.

“What are your thoughts on a house with a white picket fence?”

They move to the middle of the country, far from both Gotham and Star City. They hang up their capes and never touch a weapon again. Their days open up and begin to be spent painting the walls of the house. Their nights are spent cuddled up on the couch, Jason reading aloud to Roy and Raptor, exposing them to worlds they’d never before tasted, never even thought to step foot in. 

With bliss comes rain and when it rains it pours. They just had a big fight. Each party said things he didn't mean, and though they both know they weren’t coming from truthful places, neither is ready to apologize just yet. 

They sit side by side on their bed, a few feet between them. Both stare absently at the wall. They won’t go to bed angry, it’s something they both agreed on. Still, this waiting game doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and it’s getting late. Roy has work early the next morning, Jason an appointment. 

It’s half past one when Roy breaks the silence. He gnaws on his cheek, straightens his back, bows his head and looks at his husband out of the corner of his eye. 

“What are your thoughts on kids?”

Jason’s shoulders drop, all pent-up tension released in a single second. He crawls across the bed and falls into Roy’s lap, wrapping arms around a slender waist. They stay up late dreaming up a family. 

Jason doesn’t make it to his appointment that day. Roy calls in sick to work.

Over the course of the next few years, they adopt three children, who they love as much as if they were their own. Their house becomes chaotic, the good kind. Jason cooks family meals and cleans up and gets the kids to school. Roy works as an engineer for some company and comes home every day to his husband and children. 

When the kids are asleep, and the house is still, and the night is a haven in opposed to a battleground, Jason and Roy still snuggle up on the couch for Jason to read aloud to his husband, their dog at their feet. It’s a particular night. Jason’s back is against Roy’s chest, Roy’s fingers are running through Jason’s hair as he reads Picture of Dorian Gray. There’s a candle burning on the coffee table, and a small, warm lamp is turned on from its place on an end table, but besides that, the house is dark, it’s sleepy, it’s homey. Roy trails kisses down Jason’s neck.

“What are your thoughts on me?” He begs, a whisper.

Jason smiles. It’s been twelve years since he was first asked that. He remembers his response to it then: a passionate kiss, a skipped patrol, a night in bed together. He had been young, full of fear, yet lust, yet a deep, growing love for this boy before him. And now, today, tonight, he sits with twelve years of experience in his back pocket.

He’s fallen in love with Roy. With his hands, freckles, eyes, cupids bow, back dimples. With his corny jokes, useless inventions, stupid catch phrases that aren’t catchy in the slightest. With his mannerisms, the essence of him, the ins, the outs, the very existence that is Roy William Harper.

Jason’s heart swells, it’s warm, his head is an eruption of butterflies and he simply thinks to himself, “I love him.”

“My thoughts, Roy Harper, love of my life, father of my children,” Jason starts slowly, taking small breaks between words, as if sounding it all out, warming up to the water before jumping in head first. “Are that I love you, and that you complete me.”

Roy buries his face in the crook of Jason’s neck. “God, I fucking love you.”

They fall asleep there, on the couch, a tangled mess of limps and a book discarded to the floor. They awake the next morning to their children bouncing atop them. They spend the Saturday as a family. Roy plays a board game with the youngest two while Jay helps the eldest with a history assignment in the kitchen. In the midst of it all, they exchange a look, a knowing look, a loving one, one which promises so much, one which reads, ‘we’ve made it.’

[everestv-themuse]

Heat of Her Breath in My Mouth (I'm Alive)

Thanks so much for this prompt and for the first ficlet I’m posting with its title! I figured it deserved it since it totally ran away from me and became longer than I was originally planning. Shaelin Cadash x Sera for @honestly-wilde​ @talesfromthefade​ @dadrunkwriting​

“Are you quite sure?” Dorian asks again as the group of them race across the Storm Coast shore, weapons drawn and poised for battle.

“What, you don’t trust me?” Shaelin scoffs from her position on Iron Bull’s head, hands gripping his horns for balance, but ready to draw her dual daggers once closer to their targets. “I’m the one with the best vantage point right now,”

“Yes, as you mention often enough,” Dorian says through controlled breaths, careful not to pant or seem even in the slightest out of breath, before rolling his eyes. Sera sniggers from Iron Bull’s other side. “It’s just...darkspawn? So far out in the open? I simply question what they’re doing in the middle of nowhere on the beach, that’s all.”

“He’s got a point,” Sera speaks up, pausing briefly to send an arrow into one of the hurlocks they were getting closer to, before catching up with the group again. “Darkspawn being around always equals some hole nearby they had to crawl out from,”

“Heads up!” Iron Bull yells at the darkspawn slowly becoming aware of the approaching enemies, just in time to be met with a dwarf armed to the teeth being thrown up over the qunari’s head and straight at them.

The four Inquisition members easily slip into battle positions as they’ve done countless times before — Sera on top of an upended boat at the edge of the fighting, sending arrows ripping through any enemy seemingly gaining the upper hand; Dorian positioning himself directly opposite her at the other edge of the battle, maintaining barriers for each member of the party while casting a volley of lightning strikes here and there; which left Iron Bull and Shaelin at the center of it all, slashing their way through enemies with blades that quickly soaked through in black blood.

Even so, the fighting did nothing to halt their conversation.

“‘Heads up?’ That’s seriously all you got for a battle cry?” Shaelin gives Iron Bull a look as she cuts a hurlock down to its knees, before aiming another clean swing to slash its throat.

“I won’t lie, amatus,” Dorian pipes up above the din of battle. “I was disappointed as well,”

“I was distracted, alright?” Iron Bull just groans as he raises his two-handed axe high above his head, ready to send it crashing back down to slice a hurlock clean in two. But the next second, the same hurlock is crumpling to the ground with two arrows straight through its helmet. Bull looks up to meet Sera’s playful gaze and tongue sticking out at him with a grimace. “Stealing my kill again? Not appreciated, thanks!”

“Oh, just admit you love m—” Comes the cut-off reply.

“Yeah, yeah,” Iron Bull grumbles with his back already turned away from Sera. “Anyway,” Spinning around, he downs two darkspawn with one blow and finishes them both just as quickly. “I would’ve thought of something better, but I was trying to listen to what you guys were saying—”

“Excuses, excuses!” Shaelin laughs as she tackles a darkspawn coming at Iron Bull from behind.

“—and I was trying to think of the cave system nearby and if we had explored it yet—”

Dorian scoffs and swings his staff out once he realizes that Sera’s barrier has been on the weaker side for a bit now. “You say that as if you’ve already memorized the new map Scout Harding sent us this morning. Are we really meant to believe that, love?”

“Oh, sure, doubt the professional spy!” Iron Bull throws back without a hint of real bitterness to his voice. Shaelin chuckles as she cuts down one of the few remaining hurlocks, before turning to Sera’s position to share an amused look with the elf. Instead, she’s met with empty air where the archer used to be. “All I’m saying is we could stand to check out the area.”

“Sera?” Shaelin calls out, sheathing her daggers and leaving the last darkspawn to the two still bickering, stepping carefully over the bodies to closer inspect the upended boat.

“Yes, yes, it’s a perfectly fine idea,” Dorian muses, lightning crackling at the edge of his voice as a sudden storm rages down on the last enemy standing. “But we don’t depend on you for plans, we depend on you for the pizzazz! The showmanship of battle! And to be perfectly honest, you’ve left us all wanting.”

“Sera, where—”

“I’m fine, I’m good!” The elf exclaims as she pops her head out from behind the boat. “Was just thrown backward during the fight, is all,”

“Pizzazz, huh? Is that what you call adrenaline-fueled sexiness?”

Following a lowly murmured string of flirty Tevene, Shaelin quickly tunes out the two lovebirds and focuses on Sera as she attempts to shake out the gravel from her armor. “Are you sure? It looks like you’re—”

“I said I’m good, Tadwinks,” Sera insists with a smile, gently shoving away Shaelin’s advances. “Seriously. Now, what was all that about a cave?”

“Right, yeah,” Shaelin nods and heads back towards her friends. “Wrap it up, you saps, let’s head towards that cave. Where did you say it was again?”

Iron Bull tears his suggestive smirk away from the mage and turns toward the dwarf instead. “Oh, uh, due west. Down the coast. Lots of spiders, deepstalk— I mean, the little cuddly lizard guys that you’re totally not afraid of, you know. Typical cave. Except maybe with more darkspawn this time.”

Dorian represses a chuckle and Shaelin glares at him. “Right, great, no problem. Lead the way.”

“You sure you don’t want to climb back up on my horns, Boss? That way you’re farther from the ground? And, you know, the occasional deep—”

“No, thank you!” Shaelin growls and barely dodges Dorian’s attempt at ruffling her hair. “I can handle the worms with teeth and legs this time, thanks! Just fucking walk already,”

“Yes, ma’am,” Iron Bull responds as seriously as he can manage and Shaelin just sighs as the group treks on.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, your fear of some vicious thing that’s so much smaller than you, it’s almost impressive,” Dorian points out as he stretches his arms above his head. “Everyone has some sort of embarrassing fear or two.”

“Right, yeah, like Dorian’s fear of running out of color-coded clothes one day!” Iron Bull smiles and to his credit, Dorian just nods solemnly.

“Quite right. A dreadful thought,” the mage says. “But not to count out Bull’s fear of running out of different ways to swing a weapon.”

“Exactly! Who would I be without my violently creative tendencies?”

“Sera, you’re really gonna let them gang up on me?” Shaelin huffs as she glances between her two bullies. She’s met with no reply. “Come on, say you have my— Sera!”

The dwarf, glancing behind her to meet eyes with the elf trailing behind, cries out at the sight of a crumpled figure a little ways back down the beach. Immediately, she sprints across the gravelly shore, barely aware of her companions racing after her.

She skids to her knees once she’s close enough, scrambling to cradle Sera’s head in her lap and check for signs of serious injuries. She kneels in a quickly growing puddle of blood and Sera’s eyes struggle to flutter open and Shaelin’s heartbeat thrums so loudly in her ears it drowns out the waves crashing to shore, and it’s hard to focus on anything else in the moment.. Her hands shake as she pokes and prods until the elf finally grimaces in response.

“Ah, sh-shit, easy there,”

Shaelin tries to ignore the trembling in Sera’s voice before turning towards Dorian who’s already there, kneeling and pressing comfortingly against her side. “It’s her shoulder, it’s— I-I can’t see with the armor, it’s just all covered in—”

“I got it, I see it,” Dorian says in his calmest voice before waving towards Iron Bull who’s pacing nervously at his side. “Bandages, elfoot, regeneration potion. Hurry.”

“Right. Sorry.” Bull mumbles before dropping to his knees and rummaging through his pack.

“Shaelin, keep her steady,” Dorian instructs as he delicately begins to unbuckle and peel away at the shoulder piece and fabric beneath the armor, trying to ignore the way his patient groans and squirms in her barely conscious state. Finally, his hands now covered in blood, he gets a clear look at the wound. “Bull, clean water and that potion, now.”

“D-Dorian...that’s a hole...straight through...” Shaelin says, her voice barely above a whisper, as she stares at the wound. “It’s...she’s...there’s so much—”

“I know, salroka, she’s lost a lot of blood, but she’ll be— oh, thank you,” Dorian says as Iron Bull shoves a canteen and vial into his hands. The mage works quickly to flush the wound with water, watching as the gushing blood slowly begins to dilute. “Shaelin, Bull, the potion is going to sting. I need you to hold her down just in case. Keep her from thrashing. Ready?” The two nod, holding onto trembling limbs as firmly as needed. Dorian takes a small breath and pours small amounts of the potion onto the wound. Immediately, Sera cries out in pain and jerks against her constraints, but the two hold fast and she only manages to resist for a moment before falling completely limp.

“S-Sera?! Dorian, she’s—”

“That’s a good thing, Boss. If she’s passed out, she can’t feel any of it,”

“Bandages, please?” Dorian nods at Iron Bull’s murmured comment and reaches out his hand to receive his request. “ He’s right. I can’t focus on magically keeping her unconscious while I’m closing the wound at the same time. This is for the better, trust me.” He says and focuses on pouring the rest of the regeneration potion on two separate strips of bandages, using them to wipe both sides of Sera’s shoulder and then pressing them firmly against the wound. He looks up at Shaelin. “I need you to keep pressure on her shoulder, alright? Press hard,”

“R-Right, okay,”

Dorian watches the young dwarf do as she’s told while he stretches out his crimson-stained hands to hover over Sera’s shoulder, willing light blue wisps to spring from his fingers and seep through to the elf’s skin beneath the mess of blood. He closes his eyes as he works, mentally directing the magic to weave and sew the wound closed, fingers waving and writhing as if conducting a symphony of so many moving parts. It’s all Dorian can do not to slump against Iron Bull’s side as he works with such minute magic and as he can feel the mana seeping out of him with each second that passes, having so little left after the battle.

“There,” the mage says with effort. “It’s closed. Now I just have to...I just...”

“Whoa there,” Iron Bull presses closer with a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, all but supporting the staggering mage’s weight. “I can take it from here. Just gotta bandage her up, right? Go take a breather, collect yourself. Shaelin, keep your hands there while I wrap it, okay?”

***

Shaelin lays on her side on the padded bedroll, curled up and focusing on her breathing, just like Iron Bull taught her. She’s trying to keep calm, trying to keep sane, even as she stares at the motionless elf next to her, waiting and watching intently. Catching herself gnawing at her lip, she sighs in frustration and the words Cassandra has drilled so many times before, come to mind: You’re all wound up. Find where you’re holding tension in your body and focus on—

Then, a flutter of eyelashes and Shaelin cranes her neck closer, waiting for— there. Sera’s eyes blink open.

“Wha...where...we back at camp already? Ah, fuck, that hurts...”

“Stop moving, idiot!” Shaelin exclaims before throwing herself onto the elf, straddling her middle and leaning in close, careful to support her weight against the bedroll and not her victim’s shoulders. The dwarf blinks furiously against emerging tears. “Just what the fuck were you thinking?”

“Me? Just now?” Sera responds sluggishly, finding it hard to meet the watery gaze hovering only inches above her own face. “Was thinking this is the first time my arm’s been in a sling. Not fun, ‘case you were wondering.”

“Dumbass!” Shaelin growls and swallows hard, angrily willing her throat to stop tightening up on her. “I’m talking about back there on the beach! I asked you! I asked you if you were okay and you said you were fine! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I was fine, it was just a little—”

“You passed out! Twice! First from blood loss and then from the pain when Dorian was stitching you up. Sera, I can’t believe you—”

“Well, shit, maybe if the healer wasn’t being so rough, I would’ve—”

“You think this is funny?!” Shaelin’s voice grows a steel to it and Sera winces at the tone. “He saved your life! You were bleeding out! We were—”

“Yeah, look, I get it!” Sera interrupts, biting at her lip and turning her head to the side to avoid the dwarf’s gaze. “It was bad this time, I just...I wanted to...”

“Why didn’t you say exactly how bad it was? When I asked you, let alone when it first happened, you should’ve just been honest! Did you think I wouldn’t have believed you?! I mean, what the fuck were you—”

“I couldn’t let things just stop, alright?!” The elf’s words come out in a jumbled mess as she rushes to explain. “We were on a roll — tons of fights earlier but no messes or mistakes, things were good. And then the darkspawn. And then Bull mentions the cave. I knew we had to check it out ‘soon as they were all dead, no time to lose. Darkspawn were spilling out some hole somewhere, we couldn’t just sit on our asses while I downed a healing potion and caught my breath. We didn’t have time. I figured after the cave, then I could take a break. It was my fault the arrow caught me the way it did, anyway, I was being stupid, not focusing...” Sera’s eyes grow big as she all but pleads for Shaelin to meet her gaze, but it’s the dwarf’s turn to look away with a shake of her head. “But...that doesn’t matter. You did clear out the cave, yeah?”

Shaelin lets out a noise that’s halfway between a scoff and a cough trying to work its way out of her throat. “Ironically enough, there was no time.”

“There was no...you’re saying you just left it?!”

“What part of bleeding out are you not getting?” Shaelin says through clenched teeth. “We had to rush you back to camp. It wasn’t a choice, no one had to make the call, there was just no other option.”

“But what about the fucking—”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Shaelin interrupts, leaning back to rest against her haunches and as far from Sera as she could be while still straddling her middle. The dwarf runs a tired hand through her hair. “You shouldn’t even be talking right now, let alone arguing about this shit. You need to rest. I’ll come back to check on you in a bit.”

“Wait, Shaelin, I—”

“No, I’m not asking, alright? You need to—”

With her good hand, Sera darts up to clench Shaelin’s shirt in her fist, pulling her down and crashing their lips together. She tries not to focus too much on the dwarf’s full weight pressing against her chest, making her shoulder ache in protest. Sera can only focus on kissing her, all teeth and rush, until Shaelin can slow the kiss down and deepen it, softening lips and relaxing the embrace. Soon, the two taste salt on their tongues, unsure of whose tears they were tasting.

Sera pulls away slowly, reluctantly, keeping her eyes closed and her breathing steady against the tremor in her voice. “Don’t leave angry, alright? Please? I’m sorry, just...just stay here for a bit longer. ‘Till I fall asleep. Just sleep with me. Please, I’m sorry...”

Wordlessly, taking a deep, shaky breath, Shaelin presses closer until their foreheads touch. The elf below her lets out a breath of her own. The two lay like that in silence, listening to the wind murmuring against the outside of their tent, listening to the familiar chatter of the camp all around them, their chests slowly rising and falling in unison.

Eventually, Shaelin moves away and off of Sera, resuming her previous position of curling into the elf’s uninjured side. This time, though, Sera moves to entwine their fingers together, squeezing Shaelin’s hand once in apology, and once more in a promise. Without hesitation, Shaelin squeezes back.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I read your post about Marlon surviving and joining the delta. I'm super curious about how Louis would react to this, especially the part you wrote about him being the one to cut his finger off. And what would Marlon's reaction be to seeing Louis in a relationship with Clem?

Well. 

This gets wild.

Sorry ‘bout that. 

-

Their relationship would become incredibly strained once Clementine and AJ entered the picture, and eventually hostile depending on choices. 

In the beginning, there are several instances that show how close Louis and Marlon are; the photo in Marlon’s office, Louis being referred to as “Marlon’s lap dog,” defending Marlon and making excuses whenever he gets angry, Louis sharing a story with Clementine about him and Marlon when they were kids and how Marlon stepped up when no one else would, as well as more scenes of them standing together in the background and conversing. 

However, the closer Clementine gets to him, the more changes you see in their friendship. It becomes clear that Marlon feels a bit possessive of Louis and their history together, and with him planning on giving Clementine and AJ away to the delta when the time comes, he’s afraid that Clementine will break his heart. 

It gets to the point where Marlon takes Clementine out for a hunting trip and asks her intentions with him. Regardless of your response, the next morning when Clementine’s going to Marlon’s office, she hears arguing before Louis leaves. For the rest of the day, Louis keeps his distance and it’s clear that it’s Marlon’s doing, further telling the player how much of an influence [or rather, control] Marlon has over Louis. 

And when the final confrontation comes and Clementine turns to Louis, it goes down about the same with some extra dialogue showing the true strain of the lies forming around their friendship. 

Now, as I said, depending on if you attack him or not, Marlon will survive and be put down in the basement or AJ will kill him. For the sake of this, Clementine attacked him and got the gun, preventing his death.

The next morning comes and after Brody’s funeral, Louis and Violet, as well as the rest of the group, argue about if they should kick Marlon out. 

Violet argues that he murdered Brody and is still a threat to everyone, while Louis argues that Marlon will die out there by himself and that he can atone by helping them against the delta. 

Clementine has the choice to side with either of them and when she agrees with Louis, he’s incredibly thankful to her. 

But, in the end, the majority vote is to kick Marlon out. This leaves Louis upset and unable to face his longtime best friend, but expresses his gratitude to Clementine for her support, even though he can see that she doesn’t truly agree with him. 

Clementine and AJ lead Marlon out into the woods.

 During this time, Marlon asks why Clementine would vote for him to stay. Clementine responds that she did it for Louis, which upsets Marlon. Then, they run into Lilly and Abel, they take Marlon, and Clementine and AJ are saved by James. 

Back at the school, Clementine explains what happened to Louis and the others, and they prepare for the attack. 

 She and Louis have a quiet moment together in their graveyard where Louis goes more in-depth into his guilt about leaving Marlon to take all the responsibilities and how he noticed something going on with him, but always turned away from it. He always wanted to believe in him, and a part of him still can’t comprehend that Marlon killed Brody and gave the twins away. 

The piano scene goes down the same [EXCEPT I get my piano mini-game!!! If Violet gets constellations then Louis gets a duet!!] and so does the fight, except Lilly mentions Marlon in hopes that someone will come forward. 

Fast forward to the boat, we see Marlon for the first time weeks, and he’s fucked up. I’m talking his head is shaved, he’s got healing bruises all over him, his eyes are sunken in, and he speaking much differently. He’s clearly been subject to the delta’s “training methods” and it’s made him damn near a new person. 

And here, he replaces Dorian, telling Clementine to not try anything or else they’ll hurt Violet more.  Lilly shows up with Minerva, they chat, Minerva confesses to killing Sophie, and Louis freaks out. Marlon tries to calm him down, but it’s too late. 

Lilly orders Marlon to pull Louis out of the cell, to which Louis and AJ try to stop him, but ultimately Louis ends up on the ground with Marlon on top and ready to cut off Louis’ finger. 

AJ bites him, and Louis is dragged back into the cell. Marlon’s left to watch the others while Lilly drags AJ away, and here’s where we see Louis completely come apart. 

Up to this point, we’ve watched Louis slowly come to terms with all the fucked up shit Marlon’s done and realizes how he manipulated him into avoiding Clementine all out of selfishness. And here, after Marlon did this to him- his best friend? 

You thought Louis screaming “FUCK YOU!” at Minerva left you shook? Oof. OOF. Double that you and you’ve got his heated argument with Marlon while Clementine escapes. 

Louis gets out of his cell and fucking tackles Marlon off of Clementine. Louis isn’t as physically strong as him, so Marlon kicks Louis off and goes after Clementine with a knife. Louis crawls to grab Marlon’s crossbow and shoots him through the shoulder. 

Realizing what he’s done, Louis goes into shock, but instead of going to Marlon’s side and apologizing, he turns his back on him and grabs Violet out of her cell. 

The group leaves Marlon lying there. 

Back on land, we’re left with a split second choice: Do you shoot Minerva or Marlon? Whoever you shoot gets killed by walkers while the other only gets bitten. 

Marlon gets bitten, and we’re left to think he died as well. 

Now, depending on if Tenn or Mitch is alive, they’ll travel with you, Louis and AJ to the bridge. For the sake of this scenario, we’ll say that Mitch is with us. 

Marlon corners us on the bridge. He’s even more fucked at this point, dragging his feet and talking to himself. When he sees Louis, he begins to reminisce about them when they were kids, apologizing for not being a good friend. He apologizes for killing Brody, for giving away the twins, for betraying everyone. He knows that Louis likes Clementine, but she’s not worth it. She’ll get him killed. Marlon begs Louis to leave with him, saying he’ll protect him, completely delusional about how near-death he really is. 

He says that it’ll just be the two of them, no Clementine, no school. Louis tries to talk him down, and it’s a jarring contrast to their previous seen together. It’s quiet, with only the growing groans and growls of walkers closing in on them and Marlon’s sobs echoing. 

Clementine and the others try to quietly sneak across while Louis keeps him distracted, but Marlon catches a glimpse of Clementine, causing him to break down. He shoots the gun off, brings the walkers to full attention. 

It plays out very similar to the Minerva route, but here Clementine [her leg fucked] and AJ are both across, but Louis and Mitch are left trying to escape. 

Marlon wrestles Louis to the ground, choking him until Louis finds the strength to claw at Marlon’s eyes, kicking him off and into the walkers. Louis, coughing and holding his bruising throat, watches in horror as Marlon is ripped apart and eaten alive by walkers. 

Mitch tries to help him up, and this is where he gets bit. 

They both make it across, and Louis is just…. a mess. His best friend [his brother] is dead, he can barely breathe, Clementine’s hurt, and now Mitch is bitten because of him. 

In the end, Louis still makes a marker and grave for Marlon, burying some of his belongings in place of a body and he says his final goodbye. 

This is just the basics. 

I really wish the game had an extra focus on Louis and Marlon and the conflict Clementine brought to their relationship for several reasons. This whole “AU” I’ve created, I guess, is just what I would’ve loved to see. 

More Louis, more Marlon, more tragic conflict. 

[aaronmascoll]

Chapter 98 - Colt

Colt stood there after Chains left. He felt ashamed. He wished he could go back to his shadow realm where everything was easier. Colt felt a hand brush his shoulder. He looked up and Trent's smiling face came into view. "Bro, don't mind her," He said, calmly. "She's just trying to teach you a lesson. It's not as serious as she says it is."

All of sudden, Pandora shoved Trent out of the way, and threw her arms around Colt's neck. "Your uncle is right," She said, kissing Colt on the forehead. "Don't listen to her, she's just mad I summoned her while she was trying to get laid."

Colt couldn't help it, he smiled. "There you go," Pandora said, grabbing Colt by the chin and shaking his head side to side. "Although, if I'm being brutally honest, I've wanted to kill that guy for a while now."

"Why?" Colt asked.

"Because he's Dorian, The Slaver. He has entire planet full of slaves. He mainly keeps women, but he enslaves enough men to keep the population going."

"Well, good. I feel much better," Colt said, honestly.

"I'm glad you do," Pandora said. "Now, I am famished. So, you're uncle and I are going to find us someone to snack on."

Pandora turned her head around, and said, "Preferably one of those snobby women from Poshville."

Trent nodded and walked out of the room. Colt couldn't help but wonder if Trent was a vampire as well. "Okay, honey," Pandora said, turning her attention back to Colt. "Put your sister to bed."

Pandora kissed Colt on the forehead one last time and left with Kyle. Kyle waved as they left, and Colt waved back. When Colt looked at Alice now, she was laying down with her head in their father's lap. "I was a second away from killing him before Chains's emissary showed up," He said, stroking Alice's head softly. "I haven't had a good fight in years, so I was more excited than I was angry."

"Emissary?" Colt asked. "So that wasn't Chains?"

"Nope, certain gods like making people into emissaries. The God merges their soul with a humans, and that person essentially becomes a copy of them. Depending on the god, the emissary isn't as strong as the one they represent, but Chains's emissary is different. She's just as strong as as he is, maybe even more, but she doesn't suffer any of the negative effects."

"What negative effects?"

"Chains's soul puts out so much energy that he can't leave his dimension or The Realm of Gods. If he goes anywhere else he could literally rip a dimension apart just by being there for more than a few seconds."

"Why are his champions here, guarding that monster, if he can't physically come here?"

Samael stood up and scooped Alice up in his arms. He walked over to Colt and handed her to him. "I don't know, but listen Colt. I trust your judgment, so if you're going to start a fight with another God or champion, do whatever you have to do. But, if you're ever in a situation where your unsure of what to do, summon Tamriel or Nick."

"Yes, Sir."

Samael gave Colt a pat on the head and walked away. "You two can come out now!" He shouted as he walked away.

Serah darted out from under the nearby sofa and hid in Colt's shadow. Tony slowly crawled out from the next sofa. "Is she gone?" Mariah's shadow asked.

"Look at the mess!" Maria's shadow screamed.

Tony stood up, straightened her suit, and walked away.

Colt headed upstairs with Alice sleeping soundly in his arms. He found his way to their room, and set her down on the bed. Colt sat on the edge of the bed for wondering what the mark on his neck meant when the door suddenly burst open interrupting Colt's thoughts. Lilith walked in, her dress covered in blood, glaring at him with a livid facial expression. "Why can I smell Dorian's stench all over her?!" She said, angrily. "I thought my letter explicitly said to take care of her?!"

"I thought my dad sent that message?" Colt asked, standing up.

"And who do you think told him to send it?!"

Lilith shoved Colt out of the way and Climbed onto the bed. "Oh, my baby," She said, in baby voice. "Did someone have to much to drink?"

"Mom," Alice said, groggily.

Lilith began to swaddle Alice with the blanket she was laying on. "I know," Lilith said, kissing Alice on the forehead. "Your brother's an idiot, but mommy is going to take good care of you."

Colt thought it was best to find someplace to sleep. He had fallen asleep during the party, but for some reason he felt extremely tired. Was this some kind of effect of meeting chains? When he walked out into the hallway, he was met by Maria. "Master Colt, I found this book on vampires when I was outside cleaning."

Maria held up a small leather book. "How many times do I need to tell you 'not to sweep the front lawn?'" Mariah's Shadow said. "And don't forget to ask him about the businesses."

Maria handed Colt the book as he walked past her. "Mariah want to know how you would like to proceed with the family businesses."

"What about the employees?" Colt asked, reaching the staircase and heading down.

"All elves, bound to you."

"Then close them, and bring them all here. I have a few businesses in The Shadow Realm I want her to look after."

Maria stopped following Colt. "This isn't going to interfere with my cleaning, is it?" She said in a stern voice.

"No," Colt said, walking onward. "A second here, is a year there. You won't miss anything. And, start preparing a bedroom for two, my wife is coming."

"Oh, am I now?" Angel said, inside Colt's head.

"Yes, you are," Colt replied. "Bring everyone else with you. They can stay here for a cut of the profits they get from stealing what Al wants."

"As you wish, My King," Angel said, sarcastically.

Colt went downstairs and found a smooth bench in the sauna. He took off his suit jacket, folded it, and used it as a pillow. He opened the small book about vampires and started skimming through it. He found out that vampire hearts were similar to dragon hearts. Then he found a section labeled "Vampire Marks and Servants" and read it briefly. It said low-born vampires and vampire alphas often congregate only to serve the King or Queen that made them. Vampire Kings or Queens will surround themselves with either human or vampire servants depending on how they were raised. The vampire's mark is usually saved for they're sex slave or lover. The mark psychically links the vampire's genitals with that of they're slave or lover, heightening each other's sexual pleasure. The mark is usually placed when the recipient is in a near death state, most times accidentally, and can only be removed upon their death.

Colt bolted upright. He could hear Angel laughing in his head. "That is hilarious," She said.

[elorcanyounot]

Reading lessons- Elide x Lorcan

Elide and Lorcan get steamy for their first time and Manon, Aelin and Aedion are NOT happy!

- throne of glass series- elide x lorcan fanfic - NSFW - fluff, smut and some fun banter with the whole EoS gang -

_______________________________________________________________________

It was their first night since they managed to reach Aelin and her court, and Elide and Lorcan were completely exhausted.

“Elide, did you want to go to bed now?” Lorcan asked softly into Elide Lochan’s ear as she rested in his arms. Lorcan took her droopy eyes and yawn as a yes, and gently helped her stand from the broken column they had been resting against. The pair made their way over to Rowan, who looked worried as always, in search of guidance on where to sleep.

“Rowan,” Lorcan asked, grabbing the Fae’s attention, “is there anywhere we could sleep?”

“Well that depends,” Rowan replied with a smirk, “are you two sleeping together?” Lorcan looked to a sleepy Elide in question, who blushed and gave a sheepish nod.

“Right, well there’s some space in the corner of the temple, but we are pretty tight on bedding so you’ll have to make do.” Loran muttered his thanks and guided Elide to their designated sleeping space. Lorcan set about making pillows out of their spare clothing and lied down, Elide crawling into his arms and resting her head on his chest.

“Lorcan?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was just wondering if…. Never mind.”

“No whats wrong, let me help you.”

“Well, I was just thinking, maybe, only if you want to, you could possibly teach me how to read tomorrow?” Lorcan felt Elide tense in his arms in nervous anticipation.

“Of course I will Elide, I’m so happy you asked!” Elide let out a relieved sigh and sunk further into Lorcan’s hold. Lorcan kissed her head and began to play with her hair, earning a satisfied purr from the small girl, as the couple drifted off into sleep.

When they awoke in the morning, after triple checking they weren’t needed for any tasks, the duo began to explore the temple in hopes of finding a book to teach Elide with. As luck would have it, they stumbled upon a small library filled with a plethora of ancient texts. Despite the room having seen better days, it was still fully functional, with a worn couch to rest upon and all. Lorcan examined the texts and settled on the one that looked the easiest to learn. He then sunk into the couch, Elide right behind him, making herself comfortable as she sat on his knee. They opened the book and lorcan pointed out simple words such as ‘the’, Elide being able to follow along somewhat with her basic grasp of the alphabet. Despite Elide’s struggles and apparent frustration, Lorcan found himself perfectly content. Had it been anyone else he would have likely ripped their throat out before the made it to the second paragraph. A half hour or so had passed when Lorcan’s head suddenly whipped to the doorframe. Following his line of sight, Elide turned to find a smug looking Aelin and Rowan standing in the exit. She let out a small giggle, but sensing Lorcans annoyance, she tried to lighten the situation by turning and planting a big sloppy kiss on his cheek. Caught off guard, he began to turn red and look at her, his face turning from one of anger to a soft playful smile. He tried to play annoyed but she saw right through him. Before they could have their heads bitten off once Lorcan remembered their presence, Aelin and Rowan wisely walked away. Elide turned to Lorcan with a giddy grin. “I think I’m done reading for the day.”

“Are you sure, I mean we only just started Elide, I really don’t mind if you want to keep going…” Elide silently picked the book up off her lap and threw it aside, flinging her legs over Lorcan’s so she was fully sitting in his lap, and began to kiss his jaw slowly.

“Actually now that I think about it Elide we definitely are done reading.” Elide’s mouth made its way to Lorcans, turning into a passionate kiss. She emitted a moan as Lorcan’s tongue made its way into her own mouth, her hands gripping his hair.

“I think I want to finish what we started the other night” she breathed out heavily.

“Are you sure?” In response, Elide leaned back and began to remove her tunic. Lorcan inhaled sharply, and she felt him grow hard beneath her.

“I want you Lorcan” she whispered and leaned back further until she was laying on the couch. Lorcan followed her down and pressed their lips together passionately, while Elide’s hands cupped his face. He began to trail his kisses lower, lower, lower down her body until his head was between her thighs. Steadily he pushed them open, pulling her undergarments down until she was exposed.

“Gods Elide,” he purred, and pressed his head forward, his tongue upon her bare skin. Elide let out a startled moan, her pelvis writhing against him. Lorcan gently placed a hand on her legs to steady her while his tongue ran circles around her clit.

“Lorcan….. Please…… inside me” Elide begged, struggling to speak through the moans. Lorcan rose and kissed her again before unbuckling his pants, revealing his enormous shaft. Elide let out a gasp somewhere between shock and pleasure as she eyed it. Lorcan began rubbing it gently against her before gradually pushing the head inside of her. Elide clawed at Lorcans back, digging her nails in as she pushed through the pain.

“Are you ok, we can stop if you want” Lorcan fretted, but Elide just pushed her lips against his and kept going. After slowly getting used to the new sensation, Elides moans suddenly turned to pure pleasure, her body feeling like ecstasy around her. Lorcan pressed further into her, his animal instincts taking over.

“Can I bite you?” Lorcan lustingly asked. As Elide started at him in confusion he further explained, “it’s a fae habit, when we are with someone we deeply feel for our instincts take over and it becomes too much, we have to bite them, taste every bit of them, it’s like me making my claim on you” he explained between pants.

Elide wordlessly presented her neck to him in response, and Lorcan greedily eyed it before biting it. He let out a loud moan as his teeth sunk in and Elide’s blood rushed into his system, while Elide gasped and bit down on her lips. Lorcan began more forcefully pushing himself into her, as they were both totally overcome with lust. Lorcan continued to suck at Elides neck, his tongue running over the bite marks. The feeling of his tongue gently teasing her neck in contrast to him roughly pounding into her sent Elide over the edge. Her tiny legs wrapped around his torso as she felt her body shiver and orgasm, her eyes rolling back into her head from the sheer pleasure. This sensation overcame Lorcan’s senses as he thrusted deep inside of her and began to cum. Lorcan grunted loudly while Elide began sucking behind his neck, sending shivers down his spine and making every last drop go into Elide.

Lorcan collapsed onto Elide, both of them panting heavily. He gently kissed where he had bit her and twirled some of his hair around his fingers. Elide kissed him softly and quietly asked “was it ok?”

“Elide Lorchan, you drive me absolutely wild” he replied which sent her madly blushing.

The faint clang of pots woke them both from their romantic daze, as they realised they should get ready for lunch before the others came looking for them. They put on their clothes and flattened the wrinkles out of them as best they could before making their way back outside.

They walked out, Lorcans hand placed comfortingly on Elides lower back as they prepared to face the others. As they stepped outside there was a sudden drop of three plates on the ground and the unmistakable sharpening of one pair of iron nails.

“YOU’RE A DEAD MAN-”

“HOW DARE YOU-”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU-”

Aelin, Aedion and Manon approached the pair all at once, causing Elide to shrink back into Lorcan’s safety while Lorcan tried to take a protective step in front of her. The others looking on in fear, except for Fenrys who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself at the prospect of all hell breaking loose.

“What’s going on?” Elide nervously questioned, while Aedion lowly growled.

“Why don’t you tell her, Lorcan?” Manon seethed, her iron nails dangerously close to taking out his eye.

“Well, Elide, uhh, you know how fae have better senses than humans, right?” Elide nodded, the confusion apparent on her face.

“Well, those senses extend to emotions. We can kind of sense when someone is happy, or sad, or, you know…” Elide looked even more confused for a minute until her eyes grew wide on her face. She turned to face the trio that all seemed to want to stab Lorcan, understanding their anger all of a sudden. Her shock turned into a maddening blush while her brows fretted.

“And Gods Lorcan, it wasn’t already bad enough, you didn’t have to rutting bite her!” Aelin yelled, and Elide instinctively raised her hand to the bite of her neck, quickly lowering it once she realised they were all watching her.

“But i hid the bite, how could you see?” Elide asked in further horror.

“When I said the bite before was basically me marking my claim on you I meant it quite literally. Other fae males can smell it from a mile off and know that you’re taken.”

Elide blushed further, unable to meet Lorcans eyes as he tried to give her a reassuring look.

“You think you can just do whatever you want and play with her, huh?” Aedion yelled.

“How rutting dare you you prick-” Loran growled but Elide cut him off.

“I’m not a child, I haven’t even been here a day and the three of you are acting like my mothers. You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do!”

“Or who you can or can’t do, apparently!” said Fenrys with a wide grin on his face. Lorcan stared daggers at him while Lysandra, Gavriel, Dorian and Rowan all made efforts to stifle their laughs.

“You guys all need to go back to eating your food, I can make my own decisions. If you all keep acting like this I’ll go find some other magical queen and court that don’t treat me like a baby!” The guilty party of three grumbled and sat down, Manon sneering in Lorcans face and lowering her hand before quickly running a nail across his chest, leaving a shallow cut.

“Manon!” Elide exclaimed.

“Terribly sorry, I slipped.” Manon replied, but her cunning grin indicated otherwise.

“Ok can we all just sit, I’m starving!” Elide grovelled, and Fenrys opening his mouth to make a joke about why, but Lorcan, having preempted it, shot Fenrys a look so dirty that he changed his mind. The group finally settled down and broke off into their own conversations.

“So you guys can really smell whenever people… you know?” Elide tentatively asked Lorcan as she bit down on her lunch.

“Not just when people do it, we can smell emotions, so even if they’re thinking about doing it, I know.”

“So you basically know what I’m thinking all the time?” Elide exclaimed, her face reddening by the second as she reflected back on all the times she had had unclean thoughts about Lorcan when he was with her. Lorcan just raised his eyebrows at her and smirked, but when he saw how flustered she was, attempted to take her mind off of her own thoughts.

“You know, I don’t know why Aelin got herself all worked up about us, when I can tell you that the entire time we’ve been here, her and Rowan haven’t stopped smelling like that!” Elide burst into laughter, Fenrys choked on his lunch, and Rowan stopped and stared at Lorcan, his mouth wide open.

“500 years Lorcan,” Rowan said, “500 years of trying to get you to tell just one joke, have just one bit of humour inside of you, and I couldn’t crack you, but a couple of weeks with a pretty girl and all of a sudden you’re a comedian?” there were low chuckles all around and Lorcan shot a glare in Rowan’s direction, but Elide’s gentle pat on his firm arm made Lorcan relax.

“Miracles never cease to exist” Gavriel remarked, and the group went back to eating on a comfortable silence. As Elide sat there, her arms entwined in just one of Lorcan’s much bulkier ones, her heart and stomach both full, she realised that in spite of all the struggles they had experienced, she felt the happiest she’d ever been in her entire life.

_______________________________________________________________________

Thanks so much for reading I really hope you guys liked it !!!! This was my first attempt at a fanfic so any feedback or comments would be much appreciated <3 I’m thinking of trying some more fanfic in the future, if you anyone has any suggestions feel free to send them through and I’ll try my best ! 

tags- @mehlisssa @irrelevant5 @cityofvelaris @ineedcrossants

comment if you want me to tag you in fanfics in future !

[mayhemories]

Braids & War Paint (Part 14)

Notes On:

Part 1: / Part 2: / Part 3: / Part 4: / Part 5: / Part 6: / Part 7: / Part 8: / Part 9:/ Part 10: / Part 11: / Part 12: / Part 12.5 (smush, not smut, not fluff but smush) / Part 13: 

B&WP Aesthetics: 

Aelin woke to a cold cot, Rowan was up, tying his boot laces as Aelin stretched out.

She crawled across the furs and reached out to trace patterns down Rowan’s muscled back.

Aelin knew it was selfish to steal these last fleeting moments with Rowan, but Aelin will never regret knowing what his skin felt like or how he lightly snored once he feel into deep slumber.

If she was to die today, she would be thankful for the time she was allowed to spend with him, however short it was. 

Rowan touched his braid, his fingers snagging on the small silver rings.

“What is the matter, Fireheart?” Rowan asked, quietly, like charming a snake, he grasped her wrists and spun Aelin around to face him, maybe, Aelin thought, he wanted to see her face again, one last time. 

“If I die today, Buzzard, it’s up to you to protect my people.” Aelin tried to be lighthearted as she could delivering a message like that. 

Rowan’s eyes softened and his hand ran along Aelin’s identical braid. 

The braids they had shared to signify their marriage. 

“You won’t die today, Aelin, I won’t allow it.” 

Aelin and Rowan sat their for a long while, just holding each other in silence, remembering details of their mate that no one else knew. 

They sat trying to imprint every characteristic of each-other in their memories, so that if one of them left this world today and passed into the shadow vale, all shall be remembered. 

The day had come and Aelin was prepared. She knew what she must give up in order to save many.   

It was noon, the sun was at it’s highest, granting her well of power to overflow, making it easier for her to reach to there otherworld and persuade her grandmother, Deanna, to support her in this conquest.   

 Absentmindedly, Aelin, again, ran her hand along the ringed braid that signified their marriage.   

She sat at the breakfast table with Rowan, Galan, Maeve and her Cadre. 

It made Aelin sick, the food that Maeve had been preparing, while many in her army were bleeding out or dying slowly or feeling the infections enter their mortal meat sacks. 

But here they sat, sausages, toast, eggs, chicken, relish and cheeses all laid out before them, as if they were dining in Maeve’s stone palace, not a battleground. 

“Aelin?” Elide quietly questioned in a way of greeting, Nox and herself pulled the witch mirrors up the hill from the Terrasen camp, into the war torn Doranelle encampment.   

“Elide, brilliant, you two are doing brilliant.”Aelin said, meaning every word, she stood from the breakfast table and waltzed towards her two friends, kneeling down to inspect the mirrors from underneath their thin fabric, not a single chip missing. She was thankful for their interruption, a minute longer of listening to Maeve and Galan might have accidentally caused Aelin to murder. 

“Where should we install them?” Nox asked, his thin wire glasses sliding down his face. 

Aelin had planned for this, when Manon gave her the witch mirrors she said that they must be placed in a trisector, to represent the three faced goddess. 

And Maeve, being the blatantly obvious queen she was, placed her camp on the highest spot of ground. 

“They’ll need to sit across the bay, I want one in the clearing you’ve checked Elide, the other two must sit opposite each other on the cliffs either side of the bay, we must trap them in.” Aelin said, her mark starting to burn on her forehead.   

Nox and Elide quickly got to work as Aelin sat back at the breakfast table, she saw the Cadre share confused, critical looks, Maeve looked bored and Galan... Galan was Galan. But what truely peaked her interest was how Lorcan watched Elide’s every step, every movement. 

“Should I even bother to ask you what the plan is?” Galan muttered, stabbing at a sausage on his plate. Aelin rolled her eyes at her cousin, if he wanted to know the plan he should’ve chosen the right queen to pledge allegiance to. 

Though, Aelin would rather die than have Galan as her lap dog. She didn’t know how they could possibly be related, he was so...spineless.   

“No one knows the plan but me and that’s how it will stay.” Aelin said, making eye contact with her great aunt Maeve across the table, though the sentence was directed at Galan.   

Rowan quickly sent a warning flare down their bond, as if to say, don’t create more trouble than its worth. 

“Why is the inventor here?” Gavriel asked, nodding to where Nox once stood, 

Aelin smirked, before standing to go aid Elide and Nox, saying:

“Inventor, jeweller and blood money enthusiast, actually.” 

Manon was impatient.   

She was passing back and forth in the Rifthold throne room, protracting and retracting her iron maul and claws. 

Her and her Thirteen were suited for battle, they had flown from Morath early in the morning, their wyverns laid soaking up the sun outside, in the glass castle’s gardens.   

There had been no sign from Aelin, Dorian kept trying to assure both Manon and Chaol that 'no news was good news, with Aelin.’   

Dorian sat lounging on his throne, in battle leathers, even though this boy, her mate, had never seen a battle in his life. That was obvious, as he made a bed of blue flowers with his raw power. Chaol scowled at him, but Manon could tell that under all that flesh and angry facade, Chaol was at peace knowing that his newly appointed king had not yet seen blood shed.   

Nesryn Faliq sat at the base of the dais, counting her own weaponry, taking inventory of the Adarlan army. Manon enjoyed her company, she said nothing.   

The doors of the throne room flew open as Manon’s cousin, Asterin - Manon’s second in command, Sorrel, her third and Vesta strolled in from outside.

Asterin had blue blood dried on her fingers, caked on and old. 

“All three mirrors are in place, if Aelin has anything to say, we’ll know.” Asterin said, a bright beaming smile took hold of her tan skin. Her gold flecked black eyes shone with mischief and eagerness that Manon only saw when Asterin was on the back of her wyvern.   

“Well,” Dorian said, sitting upright with a smirk on his face that sent Manon reeling, unbeknownst to anyone. “Now we wait for Aelin.”   

Sorscha sat on the floor near Nesryn, she had only met Aelin for the first time this year and from what Manon could tell, they got on quite well, however anyone could see that Sorscha was upset about being Dorian’s personal healer on a battlefield, Manon discreetly could sense that Sorscha resents the whole situation, anger directed at Aelin wasn’t a first, but anger from Sorscha, directed at anyone, was most definitely a first.   

“What is so brilliant about Aelin, anyway?” Sorscha asked, her innocent voice was held by a child’s pout. 

Nesryn narrowed her eyes at the healer, Chaol seemed to fall back in time, probably remembering his fling with Aelin, no doubt, Asterin rolled her eyes at the girl. But it was Dorian who was most offended. 

He stood and walked to one of the large windows, looking out towards Abraxos. 

Manon knew that Dorian could never be angry at Sorscha, as he romantically cared for her a few summers ago, it was just not in Dorian’s nature to be angry at anyone.   

But he was seething.

That one backhanded comment sent the newly crowned king of Adarlan into a quiet frenzy within his own mind, Dorian would defend Aelin until he bled out and everything in the world turned dark and died. Dorian still loved Aelin, not romantically, not anymore, but Dorian loved Aelin like a sister, Dorian loved Aelin as much as Aelin loved herself. 

Manon was sure she could slice the tension in the air with Wind-Cleaver, but Dorian beat her to it, speaking calmly, quietly, like a whisper on the wind in the Wastes. 

“Her Majesty, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen and the wildfire, heir of Brannon, blessed by Mala, child of Deanna, blessed of Mab and Mora, bringer of light, the queen whom was promised.” Dorian turned and looked at Sorscha, his blue eyes burning with that raw power that Manon had learned to crave. “Is brilliant because she will not forget, she will not forgive, and she will not be afraid.”

Lady Ansel of Briarcliff was wet, cold and miserable. And gods be damned, when she saw Aelin again, you best believe that Ansel will tell her just that. 

Ansel stood on the bow of Captain Rolfe, heir of the Mycenians flagship. 

Ansel hated the ocean, she hated looking down into the water beside her and seeing sea dragons underneath her. Ansel hated the fact that she’d do anything for Aelin, she thought as she looked out at the armada that had set out to aid her, 'stop a war before it truely begins’ is what Aelin had penned in her letter. 

Ansel had rallied her finest soldiers, mercenaries, assassins and friends, hauled ass to Skull’s Bay, boarded Captain Rolfe’s ships, alongside his pirate friends and Mycenian soldiers. 

Aelin wasn’t just rallying an army, she was rallying a revolution. 

Ansel put her hand on her wolf pommeled sword and swayed in the salt stained breeze, Rolfe only a few metres away copied her actions, placing his tattooed hand on his sea dragon pommel. Black spots formed on his tattoo, signifying what the believe to be the Valg that Aelin had warned them of. 

So, the Golden Wolf and the Sea Dragon sailed across the sea to aid their friend, repay debts, end tyranny and birth a new world. 

A:N/ Finna bout time I uploaded. 

1.6k words. 

Hope y’all enjoyed this somewhat. :)

If you’d like to be tagged, just ask. 

Many kisses and hugs,

-El. 

@2-bookmaster-2 @aelin-and-feyre @rowanismybae @sparkleywonderful @cassiancalore @igniscorde7112 @illyrian-high-lord @daughterxofxnight @bigsis227 @crazybookladythings @gcarroll @sugarcoated44 @wolffrising @notjustanyoldfangirl @bluephoenix222 @readinglikewildfire @fck-tamlin @and-re123

[novamm66]

Red Sky in the Morning

Kiaya struggles to survive the twisted future she and Dorian find themselves in.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; major character death; canonical character death; tw: character death; tw: blood mention

Find the whole story Here on AO3

Chapter Ten - Mistake

“You are a mistake. You should never have existed,” Alexius hissed as the hum of magic grew louder in the room, unknowingly echoing the words of Kiaya’s father some twenty years ago.

“No!” Dorian’s spell collided with his former mentor, throwing the room into chaos.

Before she could react and get out of the way, Kiaya was enveloped by the portal that appeared in front of her. In an instant, the world disappeared as she was pulled apart.

---

As soon as her feet hit the ground, Kiaya doubled over to vomit into the putrid water surrounding her knees.

“What in the fiery fucking Fade happened?” She coughed and gagged again before straightening to look at Dorian.

“I am not really sure. I could hazard a guess though,” he replied as he thoughtfully surveyed the room. He seemed far too calm for the situation.

Kiaya grimly looked at the towering red lyrium that crawled up the walls. She could feel it in the air; the water they were standing was infused with it. She could feel it against her skin and she could feel the adverse effect on her magic already. Drawing her mana from the water here was going to be risky. “Hazard away Dorian because I have no idea what’s going on and I am freaking out a bit.”

“It was one of the theories we were working on together, Alexius and I. But it was never more than a theory, too many variables and far to much risk. I have no idea how Alexius figured out the logistics of it, but I think we have travelled through time.”

Kiaya stared at the mage, the hairs on the back of her neck starting to prickle. “Time travel. Are you fucking kidding me? You think we have moved through time. How? To where, or when? And how the fuck are we going to get back?”

“I believe I can use my knowledge to get us back. Alexius was using an amulet to cast his spell, and I think I could replicate it.” Dorian replied.

“But you need the amulet to do so. Lovely.” Kiaya wiped her face on her arm as best she could. “Let's go and figure out where and when we are and...”

The door burst open.

—-

Kiaya was shaking. Channelling energy from the water to cast her spells was unlike anything she had felt before. It was evil and poisonous and it burned her mind, but if they were going to survive this she had no choice. Seeing First Enchanter Fiona with the lyrium growing within her made Kiaya ill and she was desperate for this future to end.

“There are stairs over here, up to the next level. Fereldens do so love their multi-level dungeons, don’t they?”

Kiaya smiled thinly at Dorian’s poor attempt at humour. “I’m just glad that we are still in Redcliffe, and I hope that bastard is still here. I am looking forward to smacking the cocky grin off his face.”

“I would thoroughly enjoy that.” Dorian had been trying to keep things light, for which Kiaya was grateful since everything around them was so disturbing.

Kiaya paused, trying to think of a witty retort with her foot on the bottom step. Kiaya paused, there was a faint rhythmic sound coming from somewhere behind her... she could barely make out. She turned around, looking back down the hall. “Dorian, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That would be a ‘no’.” Kiaya moved away from the stair and back towards the way they had just come. From this angle, a deep shadow revealed an opening, barely more than a crack in the wall. She moved towards it, listening intently.

“Kiaya, where are you going? Up means getting out of this forsaken place. Dark corners do not.”

“Shhh.” Kiaya was almost sure she could hear someone muttering, and her morbid curiosity was pulling her towards the sound. She tightened her grip on her staff, moving as silently as the water would allow. She was relieved when she heard the other mage follow her.

There was a tunnel, and as she inched forward she wondered if this was the secret passage that Leliana lead her scouts though this morning.

Not this morning, not this year. Kiaya shivered.

The water was getting deeper, and the tunnel was sloping down and curving to the left. She could see the pulsing red glow from further ahead, something that forewarned of more corrupted lyrium. The gravelly sound that drew her forward was the voice of a man, sounding more and more like a murmured prayer.

When she finally slipped around the corner and found the source, Kiaya felt the air rush from her chest as surely as if she had been punched in the stomach.

—-

Dorian was desperately trying to remember everything about his past research as he followed Kiaya. He was grateful that she seemed to understand his need for levity without questioning it. In truth, Dorian was terrified.

He followed her down the tunnel, keeping an eye on their exit. Dorian couldn’t see what was around the corner but the effect on his companion was instant. Kiaya had frozen in her tracks, and the little colour she had in her face drained quickly away.

“Kiaya?” Dorian moved towards her, but his voice seemed to have broken whatever held her in place. She lurched forward only to stop again when an inhuman roar echoed in the small space.

Dorian leapt forward, readying a spell, only to freeze when he finally viewed the source of the sound. He recognized the Commander, although Dorian was shocked he was alive. His wrists and ankles had been fastened to the wall by some means that had been overgrown by the red crystals. Worse still, the lyrium had pushed his body until it was bowed to the farthest the restrains would allow. The shards had continued, forced their way through his skin and infecting his body. He was emaciated, the edges of his bones visible behind taunt, paper-thin skin. It was sickening to see the pulsing red light tracing the blood in his veins. His eyes were wide, irises a deep red colour, and his teeth were bared as he howled at her.

“Stay away from me! There is nothing else left for you to take.”

Kiaya looked as if Cullen had slapped her, and she gulped for air as she met his eyes. As quickly as his rage appeared, it vanished, and he sagged against his bonds. He struggled weakly before his eyes closed and he began mumbling prayers.

“He is completely infected.” Dorian’s voice sounded numb even to his own ears. “It is a miracle that he is aware of us at all.”

Kiaya shot him a resentful look before her attention returned to Cullen.

“Cullen?” When he didn’t respond she moved forward slowly again until suddenly he growled, snapping his head up to glare at her again.

“I don’t understand your persistence. I have no idea what happened to you-her.” His face clouded with confusion for a moment before it faded to sadness. “What does it really matter now anyway? She is gone, I lost her. Just go away.” He twisted his face away from them, losing himself in prayer again.

“Cullen...” Kiaya whispered, but Cullen whimpered when the water, disturbed by her movement, lapped against his skin, his body twisting to get away from her.

Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at him, and Dorian could see her trembling. “We need to go, there is nothing we can do for him now. We need to keep moving if we are going to survive.”

As he watched, tears finally slipped down her cheeks, “Kiaya…” Dorian reached for her hand. At his touch, she jerked away.

“I heard you.” Her voice was hard and Dorian was surprised, but before he could respond she turned sharply and didn’t look back.

—-

Kiaya’s mind was clinging to the numbness that was the only thing keeping her going. Every moment of this future had been more horrible than anything she had experienced before and that was saying something considering she had been at the Breach.

She rocked from side to side, as Dorian and Leliana argued about something. The battle with future Alexius had been arduous, with wave after wave of Venatori showing up. Her fingers gently rubbed the knife wound in her side she had just healed. They were out of potions, she was barely staying on her feet, and her mana wasn’t coming back to her as easily as it should. All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner. If they hadn’t found Varric, Cassandra and Leliana and if the three of them had been unable to fight, she and Dorian would have fallen long ago.

She was trying to follow, or even really care about, the argument that was going on between Dorian and Leliana but she was having trouble focusing on anything for too long. Her mind seemed intent on wondering, Kiaya kept seeing the despair in Cullen’s eyes.

“I need the time to figure out this spell. I have no idea how to control a time jump.” Dorian was getting angry, and Kiaya could hear the strain in his voice. She struggled against the fog in her mind. I should care about this. We have to get home.

There was no humanity left in Leliana’s voice. Every time she spoke Kiaya felt her words cut like cold steel. Kiaya was only just starting to feel comfortable with Leliana in her time; it was horrible to see what was left of the woman.

Leliana glared at Dorian with contempt, “You have no time to wait, you must...” Her response was interrupted as the ground shook hard enough to bring down chunks of the decrepit walls around them. Kiaya’s body reacted before her brain registered the roar that shook the ground. She ducked and cowered for a moment before forcing herself up.

“Time’s up. Do it now.” Leliana’s eyes were cold as she turned away, taking up a position in front of the dais facing the door.

“Get home. Be safe.” Cassandra’s eyes were sad and she gripped Kiaya’s shoulder in a half hug before heading for the door. Varric simply looked at her for a moment before following. Kiaya suddenly realized what they were doing.

“Wait! Varric you can’t...”

Varric looked back over his shoulder. “We’re already dead. You have to change that.” Varric had been mostly silent after they found him, and it scared Kiaya, it felt unnatural and his parting words brought her little comfort.

Kiaya couldn’t speak as she watched Leliana bar the door behind the other two, never tearing her eyes from where Cass and Varric had disappeared until Dorian tugged her to the dais as far from the door as they could get.

It took a few moments before she became aware that he was speaking to her. She was so focused on the sounds of violence outside.

“Kiaya, please, I need your help.” She could hear the exhaustion and fear in his voice, she forced herself to focus on him.

She swallowed, trying to wet her throat enough to respond. “Of course. Get us home, my friend.” She nodded and tried to lend him confidence she didn’t have.

“I’ll need any magic you have left, and I need it fast.” Dorian began to cast. Kiaya placed her hand on his forearm, pouring her magic into his spell. She turned with a shout as the door burst open, and demons began pouring in.

It was like time slowed down just so she could memorize every agonizing moment that happened. She screamed as Varric’s body hit the floor, and again as she watched Cassandra be ripped apart by a pride demon. Kiaya wanted nothing more than to save them even as her eyes were telling her it was too late. Her grip on Dorian’s arm loosened as she took a step away.

“Don’t move! You can’t help them now.” Dorian had to yell to be heard over the whipping winds created by the portal. The mage’s jaw was clenched as he struggled to maintain control over the spell. “We’ll go back, stop it all.”

She knew he was right, but it was the hardest thing she had ever done, standing by and watching. Leliana was a fighting machine, even with all the injuries she had sustained in the months of torture, and she was more dangerous then Kiaya expected. But even she was overwhelmed quickly: the sheer number of demons pouring through the door was staggering.

Kiaya couldn’t make a sound when the first arrow hit Leliana, or when the second quickly followed. She could only whisper “No!” as their eyes met and the demon sliced open Leliana’s throat. For the first time, Kiaya saw regret and fear in the other woman’s eyes before the life drained away.

That last thing Kiaya saw before Dorian tugged her into the open portal was a huge shadow looming beyond the demons rushing towards them.

—-

Kiaya desperately wanted to lie down. Her eyes felt gritty and dry and she couldn’t stop blinking as her vision swam. Her mind was still trying to catch up with the events that had happened since they had gotten back, although to everyone else they had only been gone for a few minutes. She stood apart from her companions, waiting while Leliana spoke with the King. Her side was feeling much worse, and the room had started to gently spin. If there hadn’t been so many soldiers and mages around, she would be leaning against something solid, but she was the Herald of Andraste and had to keep up appearances.

She was also feeling alone. Cassandra was very upset with her decision concerning the mages and might have stormed out if Varric hadn’t stopped her. As it was, she was still glowering, although not directly at Kiaya.

Kiaya stopped her sigh of relief when Leliana appeared, but she couldn’t hide the disappointment when Leliana spoke. “Alistair would like a word with you.”

“Who’s Alistair?” Kiaya’s brain felt fuzzy.

“The King. The one who tossed the mages out on their ear.”

“Right, ok, I knew that.” Kiaya stammered as she moved towards the door Leliana had just used. She desperately hoped nobody would notice the waver in her steps, and when she reached the hall between rooms she took a moment to press her forehead to the stone wall.  The coolness made her headache lessen, however, the world still seemed to be spinning just a little too fast and it was making her ill. She summoned all her strength as she moved through the door ahead into a warmly lit library. King Alistair was standing behind the huge oak desk in the middle of the room, looking very imposing.

“Your Majesty, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she stammered as he looked at her thoughtfully. “I regret any trouble we have caused here.” She could think of nothing else to say as he continued staring at her.

“You are looking very confused and a little worse for wear.” The sternness that Alistair had displayed while kicking out the mages had completely vanished, and he looked completely at ease.

“Well your highness, it has been a very confusing day, and I am not entirely sure why I am here.” She stopped speaking, blushing suddenly at the sharpness in her voice, but the King just laughed.

“I can understand that. Honestly, I just wanted to meet you. After everything Lel has told me I was curious.”

“You were curious about me?” Kiaya’s voice sounded muffled to her own ears, as her vision started to blur and the walls were spinning faster. The King was saying something, but she couldn’t seem to understand it. She felt strong arms catch her just as her world went dark. 

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