#ellana closed starter;

[savingthrcw]

@solstice-muse-collective liked this for Ellana x Lysander

She had given a speech. A well received speech. She, Ellana Lavellan, former nightmare of her clan, had managed to come up with encouraging spontaneous words to say to the people of Skyhold - after recovering from the worst part of her near death from hypothermia, which she had caused by attempting to sacrifice herself. Frankly, Ellana couldn't recognize herself in any of it, but it was working and so she had to keep going that way.

But now she was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and had to sit down on her way up the stairs to catch her breath, hoping none of her advisors would walk by then and worry. Or worse, scold her for not resting enough.

[fatale-distraction]

Happy Friday! Intrigued by FenrisxInquisitor post-Trespasser - maybe paired with ❛ name one hero who was happy. ❜ from the Hero starters?

A slightly different, in exact take on this prompt for @dadrunkwriting tonight!

Post-Trespasser AU: what if Ellana got Angery at the Egg Man instead of Sad? She’d join The Bull’s Chargers and travel around fucking Solas’ shit up and getting laid a bunch, that’s what. Enter Broody Glow-In-The-Dark Elf.

I think Fenris would be the perfect post-trespasser companion for the Inquisitor. 😍🤩

***

“Shit! Fuck! Ass! Tits!”

Fenris’s ears twitched as the string of swears carried across the sparse plains. He cast a concerned glance over his shoulder, but no one else seemed to be worrying.

Krem glanced up from his stew-laden trencher at the elf. “She’s fine,” he assured his fellow Tevinter. Fenris fixed him with a carefully guarded look. “Just training. ‘S been tough for her to get used to the new arm, that’s all.”

“So help her,” came the blunt reply.

Krem considered throwing his spoon at the man’s head. “You think we haven’t tried? Last one of us that offered to help her train got bit.”

“I’ve still got the scar on me arse,” Dalish grumbled.

“I’m worried about her too, but she specifically ordered us to leave her alone when she’s training,” the lieutenant explained, a pained expression on his face. “I don’t like it, but she’s scary when she’s mad.”

Fenris stared silently at the fire for a long moment. The Chargers resumed their eating and noisy gossip and teasing. It was strange. The last time Fenris had travelled with such a large, close-knit group had been with the Fog Warriors, and they hadn’t been nearly so rambunctious and rowdy. The Chargers were like a big, obnoxious family; constantly giving each other shit, challenging each other to increasingly dangerous alcohol-fueled stunts, and making inappropriate jokes. Oddly, or maybe not, there was also an awful lot of sleeping around, and no one seemed to spend a night in the same tent as they did the previous evening. Including the Ex-Inquisitor.

Fenris got to his feet abruptly and shoved the remainder of his trencher at Grim, who accepted it without question. The elf turned on his heel and headed across the grassy field toward the frustrated swearing.

“What’re you doing?!” Krem shouted after him.

“I’m scary when I get mad, too,” came the terse reply.

The Chargers exchanged dubious glances.

“I’ve got ten gold he comes back with bite marks on his arse,” Dalish muttered.

“Twenty gold he comes back with bite marks on his ass,” Stitches raised. “But because sex reasons.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Rocky hurled a coin purse over the fire and Krem caught it with a heavy sigh.

*

“Tiiiiiiiiiits!” Ellana threw her bow across the makeshift archery range she’d set up just inside a sheltered copse of trees on the outskirts of camp, where the dry plains began to give way to the sparse beginnings of a forest. Tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she fumbled in the pouch at her hip for the little can of oil she used to lubricate the metal workings of her prosthetic. The damn thing was jammed up again. Something about the way the gears were set up didn’t mesh well with the angle she had to haul back on her bow, and the damn thing kept jamming. Plus, it was heavy and difficult to hold steady enough to aim. Her arrows kept flying wildly off target, and she’d yet to even graze the straw dummy.

Her aim might have been off, but Ellana’s senses were as sharp as ever. There was a shift in the air behind her, alerting the elf to a new presence, one that wasn’t familiar. She swung her heavy prosthetic backwards, felt a shudder as the hit was blocked, then whipped around to jab with her right fist. A dark hand caught her wrist and twisted her around effortlessly.

“Fenris!” gasped Ellana. The taller man arched an eyebrow and released her hand.

“You’re trying to compensate too much for your bad arm,” he informed her. “It’s heavy enough, you don’t need to swing it back that hard.”

The young woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thanks,” she griped, wandering away to flop down on a nearby tree stump. “Super helpful.”

Unsure how to respond to this unusual side of the former Inquisitor, Fenris hesitated before following and sliding down next to her. She was usually so cheerful, even after all she’d suffered. Now her walls were down, revealing the frustration, anger and tears she’d been covering with kindness, brilliant smiles, and flirtatious jokes. Her right hand covered her face, the wood and metal prosthetic on her left laying lifeless in her lap.

“I apologize,” he said simply. “I was only trying to help.”

“I don’t want help,” she muttered. “I want my fucking arm back, and failing that, I want to punch my ex-boyfriend in the fucking teeth.” The wooden fingers flexed dangerously.

Fenris couldn’t help a short bark of laughter. “I can help with one of those things,” he assured her.

A wry smile formed on her rosy lips. “Thanks. That is helpful.”

“I’m glad.” It came out softer than he had meant it to. Wide violet eyes met his, her expression open and vulnerable. It made his breath catch whenever she looked at him like that. He could sense the questions behind those sweet eyes, the tender curiosity that she never quite gave voice to. He was as afraid of what she might ask as he was of what the answer might be.

“Fenris,” she started, reaching out for his hand. He wasn’t sure what made him take it, her thin fingers resting lightly in his callused palm. “Varric once told me he mostly writes tragedies. I asked him why, and he said ‘Violet, when have you ever heard of a hero who had a happy ending?’”

“That does sound like Varric.”

She squeezed his hand hard, and Fenris had to bite his tongue to keep from complaining. He sometimes forgot how strong she really was. Even for an elf, she was so tiny it often completely escaped his mind that she was The Inquisitor. She’d defeated Corypheus more completely even than Hawke, a woman easily twice her size.

“I don’t think I want to be a hero anymore,” murmured Ellana, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I always liked happy endings.”

What did one say to that? Especially when those powerful shoulders started to shake with stifled tears.

Awkward and hesitant, Fenris slipped an arm around her. She leaned more heavily on him.

“Well,” he began, voice rasping with more feeling than he would have liked. “We’ll just have to make sure you get one, then.”

[ellanawong]

OPEN STARTER: @SLCHAT​  LOCATION: OUTSIDE THE ABANDONED HOUSE

Ellana eventually caught wind of the abandoned house. As much as she really could get considering there didn’t seem to be many details. Just a few whispers here and there and, of course, Ellana being who she was had to check it out. It just sounded like another mystery for her to crack. A project for her to work on in the meantime that only proved how bored Ellana had been while staying in Silver Lake. Sure, she was still doing her research but she was desperate for some exciting action. As she observed the house closely, she circled around the front of it observing its architecture and trying to find some clues before attempting to trespass.  There was a window in the front that gave a peek into the basement and so she was crouching down, peeking in to see if there was anything of interest until she heard approaching footsteps.

This probably counted as illegal activity, right? Standing up immediately, she turned around to see someone passing by on the sidewalk before deciding to start up a conversation so she wouldn’t look suspicious. “Creepy house, huh?” She commented, pointing towards the house for a brief second as she approached the other.

[lavellanshe]

It still struck Ellana as strange how dark it became throughout Skyhold the moment the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Without it, the castle felt cold and stark until all the candles were lit. It was easier for most to retreat to their cots once night fell, but the Inquisitor struggled to find rest as early as some, attuned to the rhythm she’d had when the moon and starlight had guided her footsteps when she had still been with her clan.  Most of the hold was quiet, though the ruffle of feathers and scratching of claws from Leliana’s rookery did give her pause as she made her way down the staircase and into the atrium where Solas had taken up residence. The metal of the lantern she carried rattled softly as her silent footfalls downward finally lead her into the dimly lit room where he sat. Though she couldn’t make out his features, she could see him lounging as he poured over a text and a pang of affection tugged at her heart.  ❝ Solas? ❞ The name came easily, and she adjusted the book she had collected from the library upstairs under her arm - it was somewhat of a rouse to get him to speak with her, but she would enjoy the contents none the less - and walked carefully into the circular room. ❝ Do you mind if I join you for a while? I do find company preferable, even when reading. ❞ The image of Haven sprang to mind - of company that was decidedly quite preferable when his grip had tightened on her and drawn her in. A moment they’d yet had time to discuss due to the other half of said moment quite clearly avoiding the conversation. His lips and the kiss lingered in her mind for a long second, though she hardly waited for a response before strolling across the room to the plush couch she had taken a liking to.

closed starter for @wclfdreamt !

[ellana-lavellan-rp]

❝ Be still. You’re too wounded to move… ❞ (from SENTENCE STARTERS | FIRE EMBLEM : HEROES)

(( my poor ellana is always getting injured, the reckless woman. i love it lol. set sometime after they get to skyhold, after renovations are completed <3 ))

Ellana supposed she should be used to making foolish mistakes by now. It was a mistake that had gotten her the anchor in the first place - her cursed heart making her intervene when good sense had told her to stay put, let the human die - and it was a mistake not having Solas in her party as they hunted the Northern Hunter that had woken after they drained the lake in Crestwood.

Why hadn't she brought him?

She had thought they'd have no need of a healer.

Overconfidence, her Keeper had always scolded, recklessness.

Cassandra, Varric, Dorian, and her - a warrior and three ranged; she thought it would be simple, easy even, like their jaunt with the Fereldan Frostback (how her blood had soared after that victory).

Valor had sung in her hand, spirit blade of white-hot blue, and the battle had commenced. The plan had been no different to the last time; Dorian and Varric attacking from a distance, and herself and Cassandra up close.

It had all been fine... until it hadn't.

They were close to defeating it, Ellana had been able to tell; almost - one more thrust of her spirit blade upwards into its soft underbelly -

then blinding pain, everywhere, as one of it's long horns stabbed through her chest in its death thrall (why hadn't she been faster).

"Inquisitor!" She had heard Cassandra scream, and she had knew no more.

-x-

She stirred from the darkness suddenly, settling down when she heard a familiar voice soothe her.

Be still, you're too wounded to move...

"C-commander," she croaked, blue eyes cracking open to Cullen Rutherford's imposing figure across from her in the infirmary. "what-"

happened...

"Oh." She coughed briefly, throat sore, the fight returning to her quickly - chest seizing with pain. Ellana winced, looking down at the bandage that was currently wrapped around her tightly; it must have been a terrible wound to not be healed completely yet. "The others.. they're alright?"

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [979]

"We're al thirty something adults. We can talk about this reasonably.”

“False.” Lyna flags down a waiter to order another pitcher of cucumber lemonade. “We are thirty something adults and one of us is getting into an arranged marriage. We can be as unreasonable as we want.”

“Enough small talk, I didn't get on a fourteen hour flight to gab about how unfair life as an heiress to a dubious empire is,” Kallian passes a plate laden high with blueberry waffles drenched in glistening syrup towards Theron, who immediately passes it off to Alim as though the waffles could give him some kind of disease by proximity.

“How are you not dangerously ill?” Theron asks the other man as Alim slides two waffles onto his plate to join the small ceramic container of whipped cream and fruit, maple-bacon, extra fluffy pancakes, berry compote, and underneath all that some kind of custard and fruit filled crepe with chocolate.

Alim shrugs. “If it happens it happens.”

“Aedan Cousland,” Neria says with an air of someone wheeling out a guillotine that hasn’t been cleaned or maintained properly in decades and now has to use it in front of a crowd, “What the fuck is going on there, Ellana? I always thought you had more sense than sensibility, but clearly I was wrong.”

“There is nothing going on with Aedan Cousland. I’m not picking Aedan. Aedan doesn’t expect me to pick him. There are zero expectations and zero plans to follow through. We’re…friends. I guess.”

“You guess?” Darrian repeats, sounding like Ellana’s just told him that she’s decided to get a job as a firefighter: disappointed in her life choices and disbelieving in her ability to follow through with them, but attempting to be supportive nonetheless. “Ellana. One doesn’t just become friends with Aedan Cousland. The other Couslands? Maybe. They’re not so bad once you get past the spray tans and the unnervingly white and straight teeth. They’re all just one variation on suburban horror story. But Aedan Cousland is a whole different level of douchebag with an unlimited bank account.”

“He’s not that bad!” Ellana frowns at Darrian. “You could say that about the Trevelyans and I know for a fact that everyone at this table loves Max.”

“I do?” Mahanon asks, in the middle of pouring Kallian another mimosa. “This is news to me.”

“Oh hush you,” Lyna points her fork at him, “You can pretend to be as mean and gruff as you want. I’ve seen you give people talking smack about Maxwell Trevelyan the stink eye.”

“We are organized crime, we do not give people the stink eye,” Theron shakes his head, “Aedan’s not that bad.”

All eyes swing towards Theron.

“What.”

Ellana, sensing that things are no longer going to be about her — finally — and blood is in the water, slides her phone out underneath the table and starts texting Aedan to see if he can give her some gossip to keep the hounds off her back.

“Have any of you ever talked to him about…anything that wasn’t himself?” Theron bites his lip as he fiddles with a bit of toast. “He’s got some interesting opinions.”

Alim stares at Theron as though Theron’s spontaneously started speaking a dead language: with the incredible desire to crack Theron’s full open and to lovingly, carefully, methodically, take his brain apart.

“When did you ever get a chance to talk to Aedan Cousland for long enough that you got him talking about something other than himself?” Darrian asks, setting his cutlery down and sitting back in his chair to cross his arms and focus his interrogators stare at the man. “Let’s be level with each other. You, me, and Aedan are around the same age group — few years older than Mahanon, few years younger than Alim — so we got clustered together a lot. In all the years in which we’ve been forced to rub elbows with him, not once have I ever seen you talking to him for longer than the polite five minutes before fucking off to join the rest of us in recovering from his ability to talk absolute horse shit.”

Aedan, because he’s a shit starter and is now Ellana’s new best long-distance friend, has sent Ellana some pretty juicy details.

“I think Theron’s trying to be a gentleman about it,” Ellana says. She slides her phone back into her purse tucks her bag behind herself. “I mean. No one’s seen them together but clearly Theron has opinions about Aedan’s character that form after a few minutes talking with him.”

Neria’s glass shatters, spilling mint and cucumber infused water spilling over the white table cloth along with ice cubes and shards of glass. Her hand squeezes into a fist as she bores holes into Theron’s head with her eyes.

“Did you date Aedan Cousland?”

Theron blanches and squirms, “What? No! Why did you all jump immediately to that? Come on. We could have done business together. Is that so unusual? Our territories are pretty close. Lyna, back me up, we’ve had to do business with the Couslands before.”

“We have,” Lyna says slowly, gaze flat as she folds her arms and mimics Darrian’s pose. “You didn’t date Aedan Cousland.”

“I just said that.”

Lyna’s eyes narrow. “You fucked him.”

Alim and Mahanon make eye contact and silently start screaming their disgust and betrayal at each other with their eyes alone.

“I should tell my family to cut ties with you for that alone,” Darrian says, “But because we’ve been friends for so long I’m going to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”

Kallian puts a hand on Neria’s clenched fist and tries to coax it into opening again. “Glass shards, Neria. You can’t beat the life out of him if you’ve got glass shards in you.”

“Oh, can’t I?”

“He’s not that bad! And I —  I didn’t. I mean.” Theron’s eyes skip around the table, looking for some kind of escape. “This isn’t even about me. It’s all in the past. This is about the very present situation of Ellana’s arranged marriage.”

“Oh no. I wouldn’t say it was about the past,” Ellana throws some more gas onto the figurative fire, “He’s still hurting about it right now, I would imagine. Being dumped by your secret boyfriend would do that.”

Theron’s eyes meet hers and he hisses, “Did he tell you?”

Ellana smiles. Aedan had texted her that he and Theron used to be acquaintances with benefits, but then Theron had abruptly started giving Aedan the could shoulder. Though Theron still sometimes messages Aedan when drunk and morose. Now, Aedan didn’t use the word boyfriend. But like Aedan said, she and him are way too alike for each other’s comfort. It isn’t that hard to read between the lines.

“No, but you just did. No wonder poor Aedan has such a complex. He was your secret boyfriend for ages and you just dumped him cold. I imagine that would mess up anyone’s self confidence.”

“When I wring the life out of your body I want to feel it with every pore in my hands,” Neria says as she allows Kallian to help her clean up. “Aedan was tolerable for a bit. And then it was like someone grabbed the bastard nozzle on him, cranked it to max, and then snapped it off. That was your doing? Theron Mahariel, I’m going to fucking turn you into a smear on history and no one at this table is going to stop me.”

Darrian points directly at Ellana without looking away from Theron.

“Don’t think we’re done with you. After I’m done beating the shit out of Theron for creating the greatest monster this generation has ever seen I’m going to book all of us for lunch tomorrow. We are talking about you and Aedan and the Iron Bull and Edric for sure.”

[divinesleft-a]

@lavellanshe​ said: ( NECK ) kissing mine’s neck. ( we in this now yo ) seduction starters accepting!

she had been afraid that she couldn’t feel this anymore.

she had been afraid that she would never again feel the spark as warm lips pressed against the skin of her neck. afraid that her own lips would never curl with the smile of knowing the passion beginning to grow between herself and another. 

her hands reach out, cupping around the other’s waist in an effort to bring her closer, to KEEP her close. 

“are there not DUTIES you should be attending?” but her words are tangled in a gentle laugh, and her hands remain clasped, even if ellana were called to the side of the empress, leliana would be reluctant to let her go. 

[cityandking]

turning of the season

They spend the night there, sheltered from the weather. [Vesper Trevelyan/Ellana Lavellan. 2.4K.]

written for oc kiss week 2019. also written as part of the domestic fluff challenge. two birds, one fic. ellana belongs to @mcousland; title comes from from “don’t carry it all” by the decemberists.

other works

The booming crash of thunder rings out across the valley, shaking the trees and rattling the craggy sides of the mountains as they stumble towards one of the myriad abandoned hovels in the southernmost reaches of the Hinterlands. Ellana had picked it out in the gathering dark, cold and silent, its porch half crumbled by something far more intentional that time and weathering. The scorch marks across the rain-slick wood tell a familiar story, but they spare little time to think of the home’s inhabitants. They’re too busy fending off the rain instead, stinging and cold and constant, well into its second hour. Vesper’s weak barrier failed half a mile back, and now they are left shivering and miserable as they strike out towards it.

When they arrive the door is locked, and they spend precious seconds pressed up against the thick slab of wood shouting for occupants neither believes exist. They give up too quickly, and Ellana crouches to pick the lock while Vesper pulls at the dregs of her mana to spin out another feeble and fast-fading barrier above them.

It fades again in the time it takes Ellana to pry open the lock, fingers half frozen and her lockpicks slippery between them. Finally, though, the door clicks and swings in, and the two half tumble inside the damp, chill, single-room abode.

The mildewy interior of a cottage has never been so inviting.

It takes the both of them to shove the door closed again against the whipping wind, and Vesper slides the lock into place, and for a moment they both lean against it, shoulder to shoulder, panting and dripping and nearly frozen.

“Do you think the others are alright?” Ellana asks finally, pushing herself up. Vesper shoves the mop of her dripping hair out of her face and shrugs off the heavy weight of her waterlogged bedroll and pack. Next to her Ellana wriggles out from beneath her travel pack and rain-soaked cloak.

“They fell westward,” Vesper responds, checking over the hovel. “I am certain they had no trouble finding camp.” Unlike the two of them, who have a day-long march around the bulk western mountain if they want to make it back to their current base of operations. There will be no scaling the mountains in this weather.

“I hope so,” Ellana mutters behind her as Vesper makes a beeline for the hearth. There is still wood stacked nearby, a little damp but serviceable. She stacks it in the fireplace and searches for the last dregs of her magic to light it, stiff fingers twisting in a simple pattern as she urges the old wood to take a spark and wishes her starter kit were not as wet as everything else around them. It takes a few tries, but eventually the wood catches, and from there it is an easier task to guide the flames to bloom bright and merry in the hearth, and they can finally see the long-abandoned home they sheltered in.

The walls and floor are all bare, and the bed little more than a hay-stuffed pallet in one corner. A trunk sits at the end of it, still locked tight. There is little else to the one-room home besides that. Rain lashes against the door, and the wind leans heavily against the door, but it stays closed tight, only a little water leaking in over the lintel.

Vesper sighs. Ellana shrugs.

“Could be worse,” the Inquisitor decides, and starts wringing out her pale hair. “At least it’s not snowing.”

Vesper would almost prefer snow. At least it would be something to look at. A little beauty among the misery.

Though, if she is to be trapped somewhere by the weather, the narrow dalish woman starting to shiver near the door makes a good companion.

Now that the fire has begin to push back the dark and the cold the clammy, cloying press of her drenched clothes tugs at her thoughts, brings warnings of sickness and danger, and Vesper shivers too. Nothing good will come from catching cold here and now, with nothing and nobody within a day’s march.

“We should get out of these clothes,” she says aloud, and then flushes when Ellana looks at her with a grin. “To keep from catching anything,” she amends.

“Whatever the doctor orders,” Ellana replies, already pulling off her boots. When she tips them over they leave puddles on the wooden floor. Vesper winces.

Vesper leaves her to it as she drags her own bag closer to the fire and fiddles with the straps, meaning to poke through it in hopes of finding something not completely ruined that she can change into.

Instead, she finds it bone dry.

“Hey,” calls Ellana from the other side of the room, and when Vesper glances over she finds the woman crouched next to the now-opened trunk at the foot of the bed in nothing but her smalls. “I found some blankets!”

“Good, that’s good,” Vesper tells her distantly, too surprised by her own discovery to be properly shocked by Ellana’s relative nudity, or the discovery. “You can dry yourself off.”

“You can too,” Ellana returns, coming back towards the hearth with her arms full of musty quilts and bedding. “What was that about getting out of wet clothes?”

“Right,” Vesper says, still staring down into her perfectly dry pack.

The ward must have worked. It worked.

“Vesper?” She blinks up to find Ellana standing over her, blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders, rivulets of water still running down her temples and collar bone. The woman looks down at her, then crouches. “What is it?”

“I was… I had been experimenting with something, before we left,” Vesper answers. “It was more of a success than I expected.”

Ellana looks down at the pack, hair dripping around her face, and then looks back up at Vesper, and her look of surprise transforms into a broad smile.

“You’re going to have to do that to mine next.”

“Of course,” Vesper replies. Then it strikes her exactly how little Ellana is wearing and she flushes again. “Um.”

“Sorry,” Ellana says, standing suddenly. “I can go sit in front of the fire.” She turns to go, but Vesper catches her hand. Her fingers are half frozen, clammy. Vesper frowns.

“No,” she says. “No, wait. Here.” She fishes through the bag and comes up with a clean, if worn, tabard. The laces are fraying, but it will do for here and now. “You should put on something dry.”

“What about you?”

“I will manage.”

“They’re your clothes––”

“I am not the one half frozen. I do alright with the cold. Besides,” she adds, “I have more than one set.”

“If you’re sure,” Ellana says, but she takes the offending article without further protest. Vesper leaves her to change as she sheds the rest of her own clothes, trades out her soaked shirt for a fresh one and––quick as she can manage it––dry smalls. Only when she is again dressed––well, more or less; she has no clean breeches but her shirt falls past her hips so it will do for now––does she turn around.

It is more of a shock than she would like to admit to see Ellana wearing her clothes.

It’s long on her, nearly long enough to brush the floor, and even with the laces fully tied along the side there’s a little too much skin, calf and thigh and side and shoulder, and Ellana has never been one to wear a great deal of red but the color looks good on her.

Vesper clears her throat and goes back to laying her clothes out with a studious focus so that her mind––and eyes––will not wander

Ellana does the same nearby, taking everything out of her pack. Vesper helps with what she can, drawing out a complicated rune meant to wick away water with ash from the fireplace and a sprig of cattail. Hopefully it will be dry by morning, at least.

“Aha,” says Ellana as she reaches the bottom of her pack, and she pulls forth a narrow, still-sealed bottle of wine. “Refreshments.”

“Where is that from?” Vesper asks, and Ellana winces a little.

“Not sure we want to know. Want some?”

“Maker, yes,” Vesper says, and Ellana laughs.

Together they drag the meagre pallet from the bed frame and set it in front of the now-roaring fire. They drape one of the blankets over it to make something almost like a bed, and once that has been set up they sit together, pressed knee to knee, wrapped up in the remaining blankets. Ellana’s rations are largely ruined, but Vesper’s have survived the weather, so there is smoked sausage and nuts and dried fruit, and they drink the wine out of little tin cups from their mess kits. The warmth of the fire begins to truly permeate the interior of the cabin as they eat, beating back the chill of the spring storm, and it is almost nice.

But despite the warmth, Ellana continues to shiver.

She hides it well, but every now and then they wrack her body, even with her legs drawn up beneath her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. If they are not careful she will catch a fever, and then they will have to chance waiting it out in this abandoned hut or finding a healer who can help, and Vesper relishes neither of those options.

So there is only one thing to do.

“Come here,” she says, holding her blanket out with one arm. Ellana frowns.

“I’m alright.”

“You’ll catch cold if you don’t get warm. Come here.”

Ellana folds easily, hesitating mere seconds before she scoots closer. She frowns as she goes, but some of the tension eases from her as she huddles under Vesper’s arm and the blanket falls over her. A moment later she sighs and presses closer against Vesper’s side, and doesn’t protest and Vesper rearranges the blankets around them.

“Oh, you’re so warm.”

“I told you. I do alright with the cold.”

“Is that a mage thing?”

Vesper hums. “A little.” In truth, the fire in her gut helps with the cold, but her reserves are low and she feels the prickling chill more than she would admit. Ellana's warmth is a welcome comfort.

“Not fair.”

Vesper only shakes her head and passes her the last of the dried apricots. Ellana scarfs them down.

The wine settles in their stomachs as they eat, brings with it a hazy warmth. It touches only the edges of Vesper’s conscious, but it holds fast to little Ellana, and she lists further into Vesper, eyelids drooping.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she murmurs when the meal is only crumbs and pits around them. She tucking her face into the crook of Vesper’s neck, and her breath tickles when she speaks. Or, maybe tickles isn’t the word for it. Vesper shivers, and it has nothing to do with the cold. “Your clothes are really comfy.”

“You’re welcome, Inquisitor,” Vesper replies, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and desperate for distance. Ellana’s lips form a frown against her skin, eyes drifting closed.

“You never call me by my name.”

“It’s the polite thing to do when speaking to a superior.”

“‘M not a superior.”

“You’re the Inquisitor.

“Not here.” She sits up a little, eyelids cracking so that she can look at Vesper. “Here I’m just you and you’re just–– No, wait. I’m just me and you’re just you. This is private.”

Vesper swallows. “That’s true.”

Ellana hums and lays her head back down. “If it’s just us… will you use my name? Please?”

“I––” Vesper is aware, suddenly, of every point of contact between them, of Ellana pressed up against her side, of the two of them wearing the barest scraps of clothing, out here all alone save for miles of rain-drenched outlands. Something in her chest twists, goes hot and fluttering all at once. She wets her lips. “Alright, Ellana.”

She feels the curve of Ellana’s smile against her neck and her face goes red again, and it is a good thing Ellana cannot see it to tease her. Though, Vesper might not wholly mind if she did.

It is not long after that the cadence of Ellana’s breathing evens out and she falls asleep still propped up against her. Vesper sits in front of the crackling fire, last of the wine swirling at the bottom of her tin cup, listening to her breath and the hiss and pop of the fire and the rain rattling down outside. For all the hardship, all the trouble waiting out there, she does not regret this bubble of peace they have made for themselves.

But Ellana is a heavy weight at her side and her own eyes start to droop, so she shifts the woman as best she can, sees her curled up on the pallet in front of the fire and tucked in. She clears up the remains of their meal, and double checks all of their things––the bedrolls are still damp, but the rest seems to be well on its way to drying––and only when all that is seen to does she return to the makeshift bed they have laid out on the floor. She folds her blanket tightly into something resembling a pillow and tucks it beneath Ellana’s head.

For a moment she stays kneeling there, staring down at the woman. She is such a commanding presence out there in the world. Half a myth, powerful and proud, a figure sure to leave her mark across history. But she is this too, small and curled tight in front of the warmth of the fire in a forgotten hovel in the Hinterlands, wearing too-large clothes that do not belong to her, mouth open slightly in sleep.

Vesper leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. She shifts in her sleep, turning her face up towards Vesper’s warmth, and Vesper does not bother to hide her smile.

“Sleep well,” she murmurs, brushing damp ringlets of hair from Ellana’s face.

Then she balls up the last blanket and curls up behind Ellana, slipping beneath the quilt, keeping the woman sheltered between the heat of her body and the warmth of the fire. The blankets are a warm cocoon around them, and the fire dances merrily in the hearth, and the rain makes for a soothing lullaby, and she falls asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

[selfmedicatingmayor]

@ellanasha-lavellan

“Mmm, most things…” replied Ellana lightly, flicking her braid over her shoulder. It was approximately half a lie. She understood a great many things; the movements of animals through the forest, the way the phases of the moons affected the world, ancient Elven poetry, classic literature, linguistics, basic magical theory if not its practice, the most efficient way to fletch an arrow, how to make milk come out of Sera’s nose, how to tame an angry, rampaging hart…

While she was actually quite smart, her impulsive and curious nature and youthful appearance often left people with the impression of an air-headed childish young woman. If it meant that she was frequently underestimated by her foes, it suited her just fine.

“But specifically, how you’re able to keep this town protected from slavers and human merchants. Most clans are forced to move around to avoid trouble, and yet you’ve managed to keep everyone here safe…”

“Ah, that is the question.” Hancock started with a light chuckle. How many times had he been asked exactly that question over the years? How many people had he met who were surprised by the fact a Dalish elf could maintain a permanent settlement? Particularly one so close to Wycome. Somehow, it grew tiresome and never got old, all at once.

“The human-sounding name helps keep humans from causing too much ruckus, for starters, but also, this isn’t exactly a clan. Most of the people here are elves, yes, but very few are Dalish, most are either city elves, tired of being confined to slums or they’re escaped slaves, starting a new life. This town takes in anyone, regardless of race, so long as they’re willing to treat each other well–– or at the very least, tolerate each other, heh. The humans do a good job of deterring any would-be troublemakers from picking on any of the more vulnerable elves, and the few Qunari who’ve taken up residence are, honestly amazing at intimidating most potential threats. Then there’s also my reputation, which I’ve heard grows and changes every time someone explains how I took this town from the bandits and slavers who owned it before. It’s always entertaining to hear what rumors people come up with.”

[ellanasha-lavellan-blog]

"Krem" Surprise

Starter as requested by @aclassilieutenant _________________________________ As anyone knows, a good relationship involves equal amounts of give and take, or as close to equal as one can manage. Every since she and Cremisius had started seeing each other, Ellana's singular sorrow was that he gave her so much, and yet could only comfortably allow her to return very little. She finally felt as though they'd reached a point where she could begin to change that. She invited the lieutenant up to her bedroom with the promise of a light dinner and some wine, a little dining table set for them near the balcony. The real treat, of course, was saved for dessert. "Come over here a moment, would you Krem?" She asked with an innocent smile as she stood from her chair after their meal. She walked over to the foot of her bed and stood leaning against one of the tall posters with a casual air.

[lavellanshe]

The Fade had been where she felt most at ease since she was a child. Ellana couldn’t pinpoint when it had first become her place of solace and comfort, but it was long enough in the past that it was before her memories began. The soft greens and dulled hues as magic seemed to swirl around every corner made her feel alive and as if she belonged. 

There was a solid piece of her memories of the Fade missing, Ellana could tell, as the natural way she moved throughout the place that so many Mages and Templars feared felt like a secret she ought not share with the world. Here she needed no staff, no focuser to direct and guide her magics. Here she was powerful and wild and free.  Blonde curls fluttered in an almost imperceptible breeze and she grazed fingers over a crystal formation of lyrium in its purest form, feeling the swell of magic and turning to glance over her shoulder as instinct told her she was no longer alone. Softening at the sight of her friend, Ellana smiled delicately at Solas as she knelt amongst the twisted stalks and strange locale. ❝ I ought to have known you’d be able to find me here, Solas. ❞

closed verse starter ; for @wclfdreamt 

[ellanawong]

closed starter: @valehq​​ location: five by night

Ellana walked into the bar, enjoying this one in particular. Maybe it was because of the board games they had to offer. Not maybe, that was the reason why. Looking at the bar, she spotted a familiar figure. The same person who seemed to have gotten in a bar-fight of some sorts a few days ago was there. Ellana loved nothing more than to stick her nose where it didn’t belong and that’s exactly what she did. Making her way over to Vale, she took a seat next to her and ordered herself an IPA beer. “Hey.” She greeted as she turned her attention to her. “You know, that fight you got in the other day at the bar... what was that about?” What was the point in being discreet? It was only a waste of time. Ellana wasted no time to get to the point. Sure, maybe it was invasive, but who cares? Ellana preferred being upfront, it felt less shady.

[lavellanshe]

suggestive starters ; @divinesleft​

"Kiss the hell out of me. Please."

You needn’t ask Ellana a second time when Leliana looked at her with the intense stare that implied more. She pressed herself into the curve of her lover’s body and slipped her right hand up and into her hair. The left found the spymaster’s hip and she pressed her close, mouthing at the exposed flesh of Leliana’s neck and working her way up to the spot beneath her ear. ❝ You never said where I ought to kiss you, darling. ❞

[lavellanshe]

suggestive starters ; @ilianchant​

“Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great- wait, I said that wrong.”

She waited, amused by Ashara’s stumble and taking a step nearer. Ellana reached up to brush a strand of hair away from the other woman’s face, ❝ I don’t need in a mirror in my pocket to imagine you under my clothes. ❞ She replied simply, shrugging her shoulder and letting her lip twitch upward. ❝ I can see you naked whenever I just close my eyes. ❞

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [848]

“You're going to be so mad at me.”

“Hold the thought.”

Bull has to pull his phone away from his ear, close his eyes, count to thirty, and then count backwards from thirty in order to get himself under control.

This is the worst vacation he’s ever been on and he’s been actively hunted by assassins on other vacations so this is saying something. Bull would prefer the assassins to the current situation, honestly.

Ellana left to get groceries from the nearest town about three hours ago — and Bull wasn’t worried about that time gap because the nearest anything that would have a grocery store is about an hour to two hours away. She would’ve just gotten there with this weather.

No, Bull’s annoyed because he’s been snowed the fuck into their rented cabin. Lucky they’ve got Inquisition phones because these things have some serious reach. He’s been texting Josephine and Krem status updates. Josephine is appropriately sympathetic to his complaints. Aclassi’s being a total shit heel and telling him he deserves it. Bull has been mentally plotting ways to get back at the man. It’s one of the only things keeping him sane. The cabin itself isn’t exactly entertaining.

He brings the phone back to his ear. “What did you do?”

“You assume I did something,” Ellana sounds offended. “Why do you assume that I was the active party in the current situation?”

“Why would I be mad at you if you didn’t do something?”

“It’s less of what I did more and of what I’ve found myself involved in.”

“Babe, we are in the middle of fuck all nowhere, population five hundred,” Bull says. “How did you find something? Anything? You can’t even get liquor over five percent here. That’s how boring this place is.”

“Not anymore it isn’t,” Ellana replies. “I found a baby.”

“You what?”

“So I get to the supermarket. Market, really. Nothing super here. And it’s empty. Doors open. Lights are on. But the entire building is empty. No employees, no other patrons. And can I tell you? The lot? The parking lot? Not empty. The only other living creature I’ve been able to find so far is this baby that was in a shopping cart in the canned goods section.”

“Shit.”

“I know. I’m going to try and find out if they have any security footage. I’ve only seen one camera by the cash register, but from the look of the thing I might end up handling VHS. Seriously. Wood paneling on everything. This place is old.”

“Only you,” Bull says with a touch of fondness, “Only you could find trouble in a region that boasts zero crime because there’s no one to do crime here.”

“Yeah, yeah. How are things back at the cabin? No random stranger mysteriously knocking or unrecognizable shadows lingering in the distance?”

“Oh, yeah. Buy a shit ton of salt and some shovels,” Bull says. “I’ve been snowed in.”

“It was not snowing that heavy when I left.”

“No it wasn’t. But about an hour after you left a freak storm came in. I mean. Obviously it’s not too bad because the phones and our Inquisition gear still works. I’ve got the laptop up and running and I’ve been texting on the phone. See if you can send me a picture of the baby, I’ll send it in to Leliana and see if she can find any birth records.”

“Based on a picture?” Ellana sounds skeptical, but he can hear her switch to speaker as she goes to take the picture anyway.

“We’ve given Leliana less to work with before,” Bull points out. “Maybe there’s a missing person’s out for the kid. She once found a guy based only on a vague description of his body spray.”

Ellana snickers. “The look on the guy’s face when she told him only one type of person in the world would use that expensive piss to appear fancy when they really aren’t. Ha! Classic. Anything else I should get since…well. Looks like our enforced vacation is turning into one star, negative rating horror movie plot?”

“If I’ve learned anything from being forced to watch b movies from Skinner, it’s that we’re going to need a lot of rope, a lot of fuel, tons of ignition starters, and cheap vodka. I don’t think we’ll be finding the last one though. So I’ll settle for a bit of the rest.”

“You got it,” Ellana says. “How are food stores looking? Picture sent. ”

“If this is a terrible movie who knows? Better double down on that shit too.” Bull switches his phone to speaker to check his texts so he can forward the picture to Leliana and Josephine. Actually he’s just gonna throw it into group chat and see what happens.

“Right. And how am I going to handle all of this and a baby?”

“You’re Ellana Lavellan, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. See if you can find an extra generator or something like that.”

“Alright, anything else? Should I haul over a new gas range while I’m at it?”

“Maybe you should, considering we’re working with a wood burning stove,” Bull teases. “Be careful. If it looks like you can’t pass turn around and go back. I’ll be fine.”

“Right, turn around and go back to the creepy deserted grocery store. I should probably check the other buildings, but honestly I’m spooked. Just a wee bit spooked.”

“You want me to stay on the line with you?”

“Handle a baby, a back up generator, several grocery items, and have you on the phone at once? Come on, Bull, this is supposed to be a vacation not some kind of horrible training exercise. Make sure the cabin is secure and work with the rest of the Inquisition to figure out what’s going on. Make sure to tell everyone it’s not our baby. Evelyn’d have kittens if she thought we had some kind of spontaneous love baby. For someone so smart she can come up with some truly dumb conclusions when thrown a curve ball.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [680]

For as long as Bull has been a foster parent, and then later a long-term parent with kids who weren’t going to be taken back by anyone ever and were going to stay with him under his roof and be his responsibility and his on paper and in law and in everything else that really matters, birthdays have been important.

Birthdays were another year survived, another year lived, another year where his kids made it through something difficult and came out — if not stronger for it, then still a winner because they made it. Birthdays are an event where kids deserve to be spoiled because them being alive is a fucking amazing thing even if the circumstances around their birth and origins aren’t exactly as spectacular in a good way.

Even for the kids who have a more complicated, in the sense that it wasn’t all bad, relationship with their beginnings, it’s still important.

Bull’s always done his best to make birthdays a time when his kids could put aside whatever hurt them for a at least a few hours, and could enjoy something else. Whether that’s grilled cheese with pickles or being pushed on a tire swing for a few hours or going to the zoo.

He thinks his kids know how hard he tries, and his kids are usually a bit more conscious of certain things than most, because they’ve always asked him for the doable and he’s always made sure he can live up to that medium set bar. Sometimes he wishes his kids would ask for something harder, but he’s grateful that they ask for something at all.

Bull also thinks that his kids have absorbed the importance of birthdays because for every new kid that comes into their lives they make sure to indoctrinate them in the highest honor of being the birthday celebrant.

The only thing is, is that there are about a million kids that Bull calls his.

There are only twelve months in a year. Some kids happen to have birthdays pretty close to each other.

Bull still makes sure to do something special just for each kid on their day, but he’s had to condense some of the kids into one weekend per month to save on time and money. The kids understand.

Now that Ellana and Mahanon have joined the fold, the time is split even further, but Ellana has enough money to throw at making each birthday extra special for all that they sometimes get crammed together and Bull jokes that he’s with her for her checkbook and her line of credit. Ellana jokes that the trick’s on him because she’s with him for his body and their is a relationship of convenience.

All of the kids roll their eyes whenever these jokes are played out and make some variation on the comment of ugh, grown ups.

“So, what do you want for your birthday this year?” Bull asks Grim as they’re setting the table for dinner. It’s a long process for a long table.

Grim signs that he wants a ring.

Bull had been expecting something along the lines of a terrarium, a hermit crab, or maybe even some new camping gear. He was not expecting that answer. Bull glances at Ellana over the bobbing of several children’s heads as they bustle like worker ants around the kitchen to get dinner on the table and all the sooner into their black hole pits of stomachs.

Ellana looks just as dumbfounded as he does.

“What kind of ring?” Ellana asks.

A ring for a girl, Grim answers, and then pokes Dalish as she passes. Ask Dalish what kind. She knows.

Bull and Ellana pin their attention on Dalish.

“Dalish, are you extorting your brother’s birthday to get something? You only have to wait one more month,” Ellana says.

“I would never do that,” Dalish replies, sounding as affronted as a fourteen year old can be. “That goes against the sanctity of the birthday.”

From the kids present, there is a resounding murmur of agreement.

“What kind of ring for a girl?” Bull asks. Man, he thought he had a bit more time with Grim. Grim seemed like a slow starter kind of guy. He’s only twelve. Bull always knew Grim would be a lady’s man, he already gets a million PTA moms and random strangers coming up to Bull to compliment him on his handsome and charming boy. They grow up so damn fast, fuck.

“A diamond one,” Dalish announces.

Bull feels his eyebrows raise and Ellana is just staring holes into the back of their daughter’s head.

“Gold band, with a princess cut,” Dalish elaborates.

“Princess cut?” Ellana mouths at him. “Where’s she learning this from?”

Bull just stares back at her. Like Bull would know where Dalish learns anything?

“That’s…a little much, love,” Ellana says haltingly while she and Bull exchange a silent back and forth with just the panic in their eyes. “I don’t think little girls need that kind of thing.”

“It’s not for a little girl,” Bull didn’t know it was possible for a fourteen year old to sound so — well. No. He did know it’s possible for teenagers to sound that patronizing. It’s what makes them teenagers. He feels so fucking old.

And then Dalish tags on, “It’s for you.”

And Bull swears he’s having a stroke. He sits down immediately.

“It’s a wedding ring,” Dalish continues. “For Grim’s birthday he wants you to get married.”

“To who?” Ellana boggles.

All of the kids turn to look at her at once, all of them wearing the same exact face of consternation and absolute disappointment in Ellana’s apparent stupidity at asking that question.

Then they all point their grubby little fingers at Bull.

“Dad,” they all says in various levels of duh, mom, obviously voices. “For Grim’s birthday we all want you to get married to dad.”

Bull’s glad that he’s already sitting. Ellana, having been manning the stovetop, does not have that luxury. Instead she staggers against the counter, leaning heavily on it.

“Hoo boy,” Ellana says weakly, “You know there’s usually a part in the middle where the people getting married…you know. Talk about getting married. Usually one of them gets asked if they want to get married.”

“Yes, it’s called a proposal. It involves a ring.”

“I think your mom’s trying to say that the people involved usually talk about if marriage is something they want first,” Bull explains, “Before the ring comes into play.”

All of the kids look at him, still confused about why the grown ups in the room aren’t getting it.

“But…don’t you want to?” Mahanon asks, brow furrowed, “What else is there to talk about?”

Bull looks at Ellana. Ellana looks at Bull.

“Adult stuff,” Ellana says when Bull fails to come up with something to cut off this line of questioning from going further. “That your dad and I will talk about later. Come on. Dinner’s only going to get burned if we keep talking about other stuff. One of you get your brothers and sister from upstairs.”