#forever mad about cassandra pentaghast

[bitchesgate3]

I will always be in favor of playersexuality. Until the day game designers have more nuanced understandings of sexuality.

Game designers still only understand flamboyant gay, mean lesbian, slutty bisexual, and quirky queer. Any identities not those are not even recognized. And any complex characterizations are only afforded to "normal" straight characters.

While Larian gave us a step in the right direction, they are still coming from the above framework and trying to reiterate upon that. And you have to understand that framework in order to recognize why their implementation is still somewhat shallow while still being the best offered compared to other games in the genre.

In the past, every time I encountered a woman in a romanceable video game who correctly represents my own experience of bisexual/pansexual identity, she was only romanceable by male characters.

These are women who have tough exteriors on a spectrum of "bitchy femme", a midpoint of "aloof androgynous", to "tough masc". All points that are gnc in some way, but all are women who also have a soft interior that is interpreted as conventionally feminine.

Game designers interpret these two traits (outward gnc and inner softness) as a nullification to heterosexual woman. Time and time again. Falling into the stereotype of being a woman for a man to tame.

Will they ever understand? Or do people as a whole just don't understand the many ways bisexuality can take shape?

[veridium]

“In The Shadow of the Sunburst Throne” Part 2

Cassandra x Olivia

For Part One, Click Here

Category: Angst Lite(tm) + fluff

Summary: Olivia and Cassandra finally hash it out with regards to the future and the realities of their relationship. Cassandra comes clean about her eavesdropping, testing Olivia’s shallowly invested trust in her intentions. 

--

Cassandra had allowed for Olivia to quietly retire to her quarters without so much as a word – and by the quiet coldness of her disposition, she knew that she had not gotten over her worries from earlier in the day. They laid on their respective sides of the bed, both with books in their laps like some noble married couple ignoring the responsibility to intimacy. Olivia paced her way through an entire chapter of magical scholarship before she had even made a noise, and it was only a sneeze. Cassandra did not feel welcome to say “Bless you” for it, either.

Occasionally, she would glance her way and take in the look of her, her knees upright and hugged towards her chest with her book resting on her thigh. The way her nose was slightly scrunched as she furiously scanned her studies. Cassandra felt useless and banal with her romance serial in her hands.

What could she say that would ever be the right thing to say? Yes, my Love, I spied on your lamentations over everyone’s harassment of your reputation. Yes, I betrayed your privacy, but I wish to further hurt you by discussing it in painful detail.

Perhaps what they called a “honeymoon phase” was coming to an end. It was a wonder it lasted so long given their life being embedded in the Inquisition.

Hearing Olivia sigh, Cassandra took her impulsive opportunity to broach conversation.

“How…was your day?”

Olivia was quiet for a moment, not immediately entertaining the small-talk with an answer. She turned a page, licking her finger before she did so.

“It was fine,” she said in a tired monotone.

“You seem...stressed.”

“I live a stressful life. This is the Inquisition, not a villa in Rivain.”

“I understand that. I was referring to…” Cassandra took a breath and looked down at her open book. The book that displayed the antithesis of Olivia’s disposition in the moment. She did not have much experience with Olivia’s temper yet, and thus any attempts at quelling it were shots in the dark. Cassandra disliked that kind of uncertainty.

“Oh, Maker,” her patience bent out of shape, “Olivia, can we end this?”

Olivia looked up at once, her eyes a bit wide. The ambiguity of her request hit a little bit too close to home for what she had discussed with Dagna earlier in the day. It made her heart stop, but she had to calm herself with the assumption that Cassandra knew somehow that she had talked about ending their affair.

“What has gotten into you?” Olivia replied, holding her book closer to her chest.

“This silence, this…suspense. You are obviously upset for some reason or another. Why not simply discuss it and resolve it, instead of pretending that you are unbothered?”

“I am not upset, I am tired. Am I not allowed to be something other than cheerful and pleasant?”

“Of course you are, but not when it means stifling yourself.”

“Oh, so I am stifling myself now? How insightful, Cassandra. Tell me more about the intricacies of my inner turmoil,” Olivia’s sarcasm was almost as lethal as the magic imbued in her body.

“You mock me for being sincerely invested in your well-being.”

“Perhaps I do. Perhaps that is just one more reason why—” she then stopped herself, closing her eyes and staring straight ahead. Then, she groaned, feeling like the rug had been pulled out from under her and she was unable to keep her charade going. At once, she slammed her book shut and tossed it to the floor beside the bed.

“I am going to sleep now,” she said stiffly, pulling at the sheets until the covered her upper body. She then rolled over facing away from Cassandra, tucking her arms underneath her pillow.

“Olivia, you do not sleep,” Cassandra remarked as she became still.

“Yes I do. I sleep a lot.”

“Since when? I have yet to awaken from my sleep in the middle of the night to see you unconscious.”

“That is because Mages sleep with eyes open.”

“Olivia!”

“Ugh!” Olivia then threw the sheets off her body, rolling out of bed with a vengeance. “If you are not going to let me rest in peace I can return to my own designated cot with all the other peasants,” she stomped toward the chair where her simple linen robes had been tossed.

“You say you are simply tired but you act as if I have tossed a chalice of wine in your face,” Cassandra slid her book off to the side and sat up, watching her as she turned into a one-woman whirlwind.

“Perhaps you can have Leliana spy on me and find out why it is I am so petulant. I know you must already know everything there is to know about me and my life, my horrible, detestable, sinful life,” Olivia tightened the belt of her robe, her long waves of hair shaking with her rapid actions.

“Olivia, what has gotten into you?” Cassandra asked, feeling the ache of knowing, but not wanting to admit to it.

“What isn’t the matter with me is the more appropriate question. I am an intemperate, foolish woman. I have committed heinous acts of violence. I have had people I do not even know the names of have their way with me. I am sure the list of my misdeeds would be enough kindling to burn an entire manor to the ground!”

“Perhaps it would be best not to imagine such things,” Cassandra would rather spare the conversation of hypothetical situations that could all-too-easily be manifested should Olivia decide to get a little too liberal with her pyromancer skills.

Olivia continued to pace the floor, eyeing the ground as if she could make it melt with the heat of her fury – which she most definitely could, but, regardless. Her anger was quiet, simmering, unnerving. It, like her magic and occupational talents, was explosive when tampered with.

“I only wish you could express what is on your mind, Olivia. The way I understood our relationship was one of honesty and sincerity,” Cassandra watched her go back and forth, over and over.

“But what if you do not like what I have to say? I don’t…” she stopped at last, with her back to the Seeker.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I can argue about it with you. You will want to debate me, and I don’t…know…if I have the stomach for it.”

“The stomach, or the heart?”

“…Both.” Olivia then turned and peered over her own shoulder. Her eyes were glowing, the tension in her nerves connecting to her mana. Perhaps the world would be engulfed in the fire of her emotions. But, when Cassandra saw them, she did not shy away.

“Olivia.” Cassandra said only her name, but in it, she had a solemn request. Olivia hesitated to act upon it at first, but the softness in Cassandra’s gaze disarmed her enough to comply. Turning around and walking her way over to her, she sat on the side of the bed, no more than a foot away from her. Her shoulders were curved inward, and she fought the urge to pout like an intemperate girl.

“I…I have something to confess.” Cassandra swallowed hard, her jaw tensing as the words of her confession brewed in her throat. This wouldn’t be the easiest thing to admit. But, when she saw the way Olivia was fretting, more than anything she wanted to comfort the direct problem. As Olivia waited for her to finish her statement, she felt her heart begin to race.

“Earlier today, when you went to the Undercroft. I followed you, and I…I overheard what you had discussed with the arcanist, Dagna. I heard what has been said of you, and what you may now be contemplating in this moment.”

Olivia’s eyes widened starkly, and in her irises the simmering colors became emboldened. Everything she had said, every self-deprecating and cold detail was no longer simply hers. It was Cassandra’s by virtue of eavesdropping. She didn’t know whether to be mad at her, or at the world, or at herself. “Cassandra Pentaghast,” she growled, “you spied on me? You, of all people?”

Cassandra then reached and took hold of her hand, and surprisingly Olivia did not retract it the second she felt her touch. “Olivia, it was a most foolish choice, and I humbly ask your forgiveness.”

“You were behind the door all along?! You could not resist surveilling me like a child?” Olivia’s mouth stayed open in dismay.

“I was worried for you, and I wanted to know what troubled you. The sight of you upset is hardly typical – you are always so kind and gentle. I was concerned that something had happened –”

“Oh, something did happen. But, you know that now, don’t you?!”

“Olivia, please.”

Hearing her name be invoked again, Olivia grit her teeth and turned her gaze off to the side. She couldn’t stomach looking her in the eyes now, and that broke her heart already. Olivia’s trust was a fragile thing, fleeting and restless. It was always waiting to be revoked, to be proven unwise. Cassandra was teetering on that line like a drunken sailor on shore leave.

“I…I do not know what to say.”

“You do not have to say a word, only listen. If you would let me say my peace, I promise you that you may do anything you want.”

Olivia remained quiet, not giving an inch. Cassandra took it as an opportunity to proceed.

“I understand that your position and your conditions are a site of struggle, and that you must contend with the consequences of your past every day. I also know that being with me is not the easiest, nor the most private choice. Regardless of my wishes, my life has garnered a reputation I cannot sever myself from, just as you remain forever tied to yours. However, if it is anything my experiences have taught me, it is that any bond worth its weight in salt must preclude itself on sobered recognition of the other for who they truly are, and not what they are known for.”

Olivia’s eyes stayed locked on the floor, though her vision blurred as she became absentminded, lost in her thoughts. Cassandra’s monologue felt like every good intention she had ever come across – sweet, but difficult to embrace.

“You and I may never outrun the narrative of our decisions, but that does not mean we do not deserve love, respect, and compassion. We cannot simply surrender the truth of who we are to the vastness of history, as much as we remain fixated on it.”

“That is so easy for you to say, Cassandra, you do not know what it means to know that if you do not prove yourself exceptional, you may as well have never lived at all.”

“There are many ways the world can wish you never existed, Olivia. Sometimes it manifests after you have dedicated your entire being to what you believe a righteous cause, defying death at multiple turns, simply to arrive at the end of your days and look on as people twist and distort the truth for their own convenient usage.”

“If it is so hazardous, why would you risk such a fate for yourself by being aligned with someone like myself?”

The question stilled the air between them, and Olivia turned and reconnected her eyes with hers. The risks of their entanglement were front and center, now. Olivia did not have to outline them as pointedly as she did with Dagna. Cassandra’s chest deflated, and as she gazed down at Olivia’s hand that she held in both of hers, she felt the risk was upon her to be brutally and emotionally vulnerable.

“Olivia,” she breathed, “when you look at me, you look at me as if all the armor I could ever hope to wear would never be enough to distort the truth. You look at me the way all who have been deemed a “hero” crave – as if the violence and tumult of my life could never dissuade you from standing at my side.”

She then reached her hand out, taking hold of Olivia’s cheek whilst she stared, awe in her complexion now where there had once been derision.

“I am a warrior by trade and by heart, my Love, but I can still recognize the sensation of peace and belonging when the Maker bestows it.”

Olivia’s face leaned into her touch, and she closed her eyes to absorb it for all of its worth.

“What if…what if you are named Divine?” she opened her eyes again, her voice lighter and more desperate.

“What kind of question is that?”

“You will be bound to the Chantry for the rest of your days. You would assume such a role with me in your heart, of all people in the world?”

Cassandra smirked, removing her hand from her cheek. She took hold of Olivia’s hand and put it to her lips, kissing the softness of it devoutly. Withdrawing it after a sweet moment of eye contact, she replied.

“There is so much uncertainty to this life, Olivia. I can hardly even think to promise you that I will survive this war.”

Olivia’s eyes dulled in their hopeful glimmer. She sighed softly under her breath, acknowledging the pragmatism in such a response.

“I am a foolish woman,” she muttered. “Here I am demanding absolution when the world stands on the brink of destruction. My Orlesian heritage is truly out for all to see.”

Cassandra bit back a chuckle, reaching for her arms then. Without a word, she pulled Olivia into her hold. Laying back onto the pillows, she held Olivia’s head to her shoulder and clung her legs around the sides of her hips. All the while, Olivia relinquished control, relaxing herself into the warmth of her lover’s body.

They rested for a moment in the quiet whilst Olivia’s hand played with the frayed edges of Cassandra’s tunic shirt. Feeling her busy herself, Cassandra fought the urge to vow to her all the things she knew she wished to hear. It would have been so easy to say so, to promise and devote the future to her. But it wouldn’t have been the right thing, nor the honest thing. All the while, she knew deep in her heart that even if such a responsibility like becoming Divine were to be given to her, imagining a life without Olivia there was becoming more impossible by the day.

The collision of these two possible futurities was unsettling.

“I forgive you for your spying, so long as you promise not to do so again,” Olivia muttered.

Cassandra grinned, her heart’s humble desire satiated. “Now, that, I can promise.”

From below her chin, she could hear Olivia softly giggle. Believing that her humor and lightheartedness were coming back into existence was a relief.

“It hurts me to know you witnessed me being so unforgiving of my own self. Had I known, I would have taken better care not to be so vicious.”

“You should take care for your own sake, and not simply the company you keep, my Love.”

“That is easier said than done, Seeker.”

Cassandra wrapped her arms tighter around her. “Perhaps if it was in the form of an elixir formula with explicit directions and ingredient measurements.”

Olivia smirked, and needled her in the side. As her woman jerked to the side, constricting her hold around her, she felt her vengeance obtained. The sound of Cassandra’s soft chuckle neutralized her hunger for penance, though.

“You just want me to engage you in argument so that I will forget your foolishness,” Olivia chided with a smile on her lips. Her softness dulled the sting of the reprimand.

Cassandra quieted her laughter, feeling the textured fabric of Olivia’s night dress crinkling under her embrace. Perhaps she did seek to distract and deflect, but it wasn’t out of disrespect. In fact, in that moment Cassandra had grown quiet because her silence was stifling the response she wished to give, but did not have the courage to voice just yet:

Yes, because I have fallen in love with you in this way.

[ilyasvieltrevelyanshepard]

Warriors and poems - Day 3

My participation for the Cullen Appreciation Week Day 3: Everything feels like it was worth fighting for -Post-game CullenWhere does Cullen end up after Trespasser? Is it a happily ever after? We don’t have the answer. But we know you do!

Is a Cullen/Cassandra fic, just in case you don’t like the pairing ^^ is fluffly and I love them, soooo, hope you like it ^__^

The red light of the setting sun paints the interior of his room. Cullen sits in front of the heart, Grey sleeping at his feet. He closes the book he was reading, standing up and stretching his back before moving to light on the candles and lamps around the little cabin. Opening the outside door, he steps into the porch, breathing deeply, enjoying the warm breeze and the scent of the forest nearby. A pair of men crossed the path in front of his home, waving to him before following their way. Alibear appears just then, the young mabari that King Alistair gifted him on the inauguration of the Sanctuary, running happily with his tongue out. It has been a year since the Exalted Council. A year since they disbanded the Inquisition, a year since Trevelyan lost his arm and disappeared in Tevinter with the Jenny’s, helping Dorian to make the changes he ever dreamed of. A year since Leliana turned on Divine Victoria, reforming the Chantry completely. The changes took their time to root, but the status quo has changed to one of complacency, being accepted by everyone. The Templars had returned to the Chantry, but only with the formal promise of the Divine to never lash them again with the lyrium yoke. The mages and their College of Enchanters are slowly changing how the people saw them, having turned their stronghold in a place of peace and knowledge. They even run a hospital and a shelter for the poor.And finally his Sanctuary, a place where every Templar who wants to get free of the lyrium prison can come. The Divine gave him the gold necessary to do it, and King Alistair gifted him with a big area near Honnleath to build it. They have twenty cabins, where the ones who want to heal, or the ones that can’t be cured, can live in peace. In this long year, more than fifteen Templars had been cured, some of them even had gone to live at the College of Enchanters, wanting to attune for their sins. Others returned to their homes to try to live a normal life, and others remained there, helping with the farming lands or working at the city to bring some extra money to the Sanctuary. Sadly for him, some of his brother and sisters in arms can’t be helped, their minds already lost to the madness of the blue venom, but at least they have a good place to live and people who care for them.His family visits him frequently. Alistair has chosen very well the location of the Sanctuary. Close enough to visit him each month but not enough to have them pestering at his door assiduously.Alibear is on his legs, big pawns resting on his hipbones and asking for some attention. “Hey, little one. Have you found something interesting today?” The little dog jumps to the ground, turning over himself before he can stop him. Leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile on his face, Cullen distracts himself scratching Grey’s head. A moment later, the puppy shows up on his feet with something in his mouth, and when Cullen sees the glove, an awkward smile shows on his face. He pats the dog’s head. “Where did you find my little treasure, Alibear?”The dog turns over himself, and moves to one side of the cabin, waiting for Cullen to join him. When he moves closer, he can see a single horse being walked to the house by a very familiar silhouette. He stores the glove on his belt, using a moment to push back his curls while she comes closer to the house. Cullen can’t fight against the happiness he feels every time she visits him. Once she is close enough, they share a big smile, eyes full of feelings.Cassandra stops in front of him, knotting the reins of her horse to the porch’s railway. “Hell-”Before she can say his name, he jumps the railway and catches her in his arms, turning and turning with her until they are jiggling like children. When he puts her down, he cups his face with his fingers, kissing her lips softly. “Maker’s breath, I missed you, love.”Kissing his jaw, she wraps her arms around him. “I missed you too, Cullen.”They remain there for several minutes, just enjoying the feeling of their other half’s body. The bark of Alibear makes them come back to reality, chuckling softly. He moves his hand to her head, playing with her hair. “Is longer than the last time. Are you trying to compete with me, love?”She snorts at him, and Maker! How he had missed the sound! “Never, my Lion. You are the long haired of the couple. Now help me to bring the saddle inside and open a bottle of wine. I want to hear everything that happened since my last visit!”“Only if you tell me what had kept you away from me for four months.”He is taking off the saddle from the horse, letting it resting on the railway of the porch while Cass plays with Alibear. When he has his arms free, she stands up, giving him her back. “Well, I’ve been very busy. I travelled to Val Royeaux to talk with Leliana, sorry, the Divine, about the Seekers.” He remains at arm’s distance of her, letting her talk. “After what we learned about the Tranquils and how the order acted during the Corypheus situation has left us in a weak position to regroup. After my last visit to the north, we decided--” Cassandra turns to look at him, she wants to see his reaction. “We decided to disband the Seekers and join the Chantry as a new branch of the Templars.”The surprised frown on his face is turned quickly into one of hope. “And you?”A lopsided grin appears on her face, extending a hand until he grabs it and interlaces their fingers. “Me? I’m still the Right Hand, but it seems that I have her permission to retire from this work too. Cullen, I don’t have to leave, not tomorrow, not the next week, for as long as you want me, I’m yours.”Cullen is so shocked to talk until she presses her fingers on his hand, “Maker, tell me I’m not dreaming.”Her laugh is so free and happy that Cullen can’t believe it. “I’m very sure that I’m not sleeping, Cullen. Besides, don’t have you seen that I didn’t wear my Seeker regalia? I’m just Cassandra, for the first time in years.”He let her hand go before stealing a quick kiss from her lips. “Wait a moment here, just-- remember the feeling. I’ll come back before you knew I’m gone!”Disappearing inside the house followed by the dogs, he leaves a confused Cassandra standing in front of the porch. But less than a minute later, Cullen comes back, hiding something behind his back, and the dogs staying inside the house but watching them from the door frame. Once in front of her, he gives her a big bouquet of white roses and orange blossoms. Her smile is so bright that he feels his insides melting. Not even the scars on her angular face rest sweetness to the image of her smiling and sniffing the flowers. But he has a final touch for the moment, something he has planned for weeks now. Falling to one knee on the ground, he can see her face changing to one of surprise and the hand that isn’t holding the flowers move to her chest.“It's been a while and now i knowThat i can never ever let you goFrom the first time we met and your first helloI knew you're the one where my heart will growYou are my dream..the angel from the skyWho showed me what life is and how I can cryHow I can have someone who I can always relyTo be there forever and never say goodbyeThe one I can hug when I am in needThe one who give love.. that no one can exceedThe one who'll shed tears... if my heart ever bleedThe one I have wanted... to share my life with...So, now I ask you this... will please you take my handAnd be the person... who will always understandI want to grow old with you..i'm down in one kneeYou're the only one I'll ask… 'will you marry me?’”From his back, he produces a silver ring, engraved with little green jewels. The bouquet of flowers fall in front of him, and before he can react, she had him pinned to the ground, hugging him hard enough to stop his ability to breathe. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes and a million of time yes.”Cullen kisses her with all his love, feeling the extreme happiness to have his life complete at least. When she accepted the ring, and he slips it on her finger, he feels like a final chapter on his life has been closed, and a new one, full of light and warm feelings, begins. They were still on their cloud of happiness when the dogs join the hug, making them laugh and sit back, scratching their heads until they sit beside them. Turning to face her again, Cullen cups her nape and moves her close enough to plant a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast.”“And I love you too, Cullen Stanton Rutherford.” She kisses him again, pushing him until he lays on his back with her on top. “But I will hit you anyway if you call me by my full name again.”Turning them until she lays on the grass, he towers over her, his long curls falling over his face while he grins at her. “My lovely fiancee and her sweet talking.” He kisses her until they don't know where one ends and the other begun, their hearts beating at the same rhythm. It seems that the Maker has decided to let them find some happiness at last.

[aeyemenethes-blog]

Lathbora viran Ch. 2

This is the second chapter in my Sols x Lavellan fanfic that is on AO3. Here's link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10213937/chapters/22667927. This is done in Solas 1st POV

 Chapter Two

Rays of emerald shot down as lightning splintering when it hit the ground, and from its smoke two spectral figures of the same colour materialized feet from our group. The Durgen’len wasted no time launching a hail of arrows from his crossbow upon the spirits, and they evaporated on contact. Four more replaced them.

My flesh rose as the magic surfaced, and I channelled it through my staff into a burst of green light at the crystal tip before sending it into the spectres. They too disappeared. Still more popped into visibility, falling from the tear in the space before us. It mimicked the monstrous hole in the sky except more immediate, and its intense heat licked at both skin and coat, tugging me toward the rift. It would suck me into the Fade if I allowed it. Though tempting it was to see what the other side looked like, I knew that wasn’t the wisest course of action. Especially with Seeker Pentaghast worried I knew more than I let on.

She wasn’t wrong, but the truth was far more complex than her understanding could grasp.

“There’s no end to them, Chuckles.” Varric Tethras called over the howling wind produced by the rift.

I grimaced at the Durgen’len’s atrocious misplaced nickname he insisted on calling me. He mocked me, and if it wasn’t his nature to do so with everyone he crossed, I might have casted a spell to deter him from the action in the future.

Instead, I added a comment of my own. “Maybe you should ask that rift to stop. I’m sure it would listen.”

Varric barked his laughter before knocking another bolt into his crossbow.

 A crack of lightning whipped past me striking a brown demon as it prepared to claw me. This lightning was blue-white – a proper colour – and disintegrated the demon with a hiss. I turned to thank whatever mage just joined the fray, and the words stuck in my throat. My jaw slipped open enough that anyone standing near me would see the surprise. The shock – so hard – it made me freeze as I stared up at a beautiful and terrible sight.

It was her. Cassandra’s prisoner with the Seeker in tow at her heels.

An insistent and angry erection – set off by the use of my magic – pulled toward the raven haired elf even before she stopped dangerously by my side. Her heat suffocated me. I needed to do something before I burned up. Electricity crackled behind me, pouring an eerie, green glow over her delicate face – highlighting the turquoise vallaslin tattooed along high-cheekbones – and granting me the opportunity I needed to test the risky idea. My only salvation.

“Quickly, before more come through!” Grabbing her thin wrist – wincing at the savagery of my force – I thrust the green scarred Mark at the damned rift.

Light shot from her left hand to connect to the heart of the rift itself. My stomach lurched, the familiar sick feeling returned and with it a thousand screams, sparking the beginnings of another headache. They were starting more and more frequently since the Conclave. Her hand jerked in mine, quivering from the power of the rift as it fought the connection and magic. It was over in two breaths, its shockwave ripped the woman’s hand from mine.

“What did you do?” A soft, feminine voice asked, sending a shiver throughout my body.

If not for a millennia of careful practice, the overwhelming sensation from the demons trying to force their way into this world, and the addicting caress of that voice, would’ve collapsed me. The thrumming inside my head would no doubt get worse before this night was over, but at least one thing went right since thy sky blew up. The prisoner lived as did my Mark.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.” I gestured with a slight pull on my lips.

“You mean this?” She glanced down at her scarred palm and my eyes followed, brief enough no one noticed.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized that mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.” Cassandra surmised, approaching us to stand by the prisoner.

Yes. “Possibly.” I turned to stare at the elven mage, and noted the light dusting of freckles hidden beneath the slave tattoo. And those blue eyes – “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

She smiled.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Varric spoke, straightening his leather gloves.

Both the woman and Cassandra turned to speak to the Durgen’len allowing me time to relax the pinch between my shoulder blades. Then I reached down and ground the heel of my palm along my traitorous cock, trying desperately to reorient my senses. The wordless screams were present, like the echoes of the dying when the first explosion happened. Walking closer to the Breach would amplify them exponentially. My ear tips pricked up at something the prisoner said, drawing my attention back to the trio.

“You may reconsider that stance. In time.” I commented as I understood her words.

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aww. I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

I raised an eyebrow at the nickname. Unlikely. Especially if he so conveniently forgot to use my name. Blessedly, their attention turned from as Cassandra and Varric returned to the same argument they’d been having since the explosion at the Conclave.

Another reprieve.

Thankfully, the erection was softening quickly, and so I stopped applying pressure. Pulling the edges of my tunic until it covered the slight half-hard bulge, I rubbed two fingers in a circular motion on my temple. I resisted calling magic if only because I didn’t want to be aroused again with the heat of her body this close to mine.

She smelled of lilies, elfroot, with a hint of cedarwood, and my nostrils flared to get a taste of the heady concoction.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you live.” I needed to speak to keep from acting on unsavoury desires.

Very pleased. The beast inside growled, but I offered only a small, polite smile to the elven lass.

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’”

No one else was strong in magic or knew how, Durgen’len.

“You seem to know a great deal about it all.” The prisoner said with a gesture.

Her answer was far more pleasing.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate.” Cassandra replied, tossing me a snide glare.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra.” I corrected, revelling in the scowl her lips made before turning my gaze back to a more appealing sight. “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experiences of any Circle mage.”

Though I suspected by the vallaslin that she was Dalish. Probably the First to her Keeper. She didn’t appear as an elf from an Alienage. Not with such wild, unbroken eyes.

“I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.”

True as my words were, I did briefly wonder if letting the Breach expand wouldn’t make some of my plans easier. The thought was cast quickly aside. Torn like this, the Fade may very well kill the spirits who lived there – or drive them insane. I wouldn’t risk them to such a mad plan. What was Corypheus thinking?

“That’s a commendable attitude.” The elven lass said.

“Merely a sensible one, although sense appears to be in short supply right now.” Like Cassandra. Speaking of – “Cassandra--”

I turned to see her frowning, but she replaced her mask upon seeing me. We both mastered the game of deception well, and I respected her enough not to bring attention to her slip. “You should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood.” She nodded. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

Giving the elven woman one glance over my shoulder, I turned and followed Seeker Pentaghast.

 . . .

 Voices.

Echoes.

Death.

Narrowing my eyes up at the Breach – largest of all the rifts – I cursed Corypheus for not dying. He should’ve died unlocking my orb and yet…

Lilies crossed my path, heating up my face until my ears tingled. The excessive use of my magic heightened such forbidden and brash desires that it hurt to look at her, but I managed. The throbbing of my head matched the racing of my heart, and I prayed to end this quickly. If only for a semblance of balance, and peace.

As she raised her hand to reopen the Breach to be sealed properly, and the electricity singing in the air pulled to me, beckoning that I take hold of it. It was my original plan. Now Corypheus –

A loud popping, followed by a demonic screamed, snapped my head toward the creature easily towering over us five times. Not wasting breath, I summoned my mana to the surface – ignoring the itch – and thrust it into the knotted staff I carried. Shouts and arrows bandied about all aimed to contain the demon, to send it back. I sprinted to join the fray, mostly relieved to do something other than stare at the elven mage.

Ashes and smoke blackened the air making breathing tricky and painful. Plated boots kicked up dirt, stinging the eyes thereby causing more chaos among the soldiers as visibility waned. I growled at their panic, raising my free hand to shield half-lidded eyes from the dust as I strained to catch the hint of scale or fin. Hopefully before a claw found my stumbling. Each voice blended in with the madness, and it wasn’t the first time I wondered how humans survived through any war at all. Their warfare, I found, seriously wanting.

White-blue lightning split through the dirt clouds, arcing over my head and I froze, momentarily deafened from its roar. My eyes blinked and widened, the breath catching in my throat. A lithe body sprang from the chaos landing on the tips of her toes, twirling a wooden staff in nimble fingers. Touching the ground, the elf leapt and twisted in the air sending another wave of electricity into the main demon’s shadow. Not even a single pebble shifted disturbed by her movement. The ground merely sighed and bent to cushion her before she took flight.

Flitting through the throng of soldiers, I memorized the impressive, graceful dance. Even her shadow carried a life of its own. I became a pair of eyes – her only audience.

Then a hollow howl behind me reminded me of our present situation. I turned and cracked my staff on a smaller demon’s head, blasting a second with a jolt from the staff’s sphere. A deafening cry – full of agony and defeat – raised the delicate hairs along the nap of my neck. A death cry. Puncturing the stomach of a stubborn demon with the blade mounted on the bottom of my staff, I stared up witnessing the monstrous demon fall to the ground – the prisoner having dealt its final blow.

Behind me, the Breach hissed in anger, flaring before fanning out wide as if preparing for another, stronger assault.

“Seal it!” I called to her, not wanting to know what else waited to get through.

Turning, the elf sprinted toward me, blue eyes wide with terror, her face speckled with blood and gore. Without word she thrust her hand upward, and as before, light connected Mark to Breach.

Shrill screams brought me staggering and I braced against my staff. It felt as if my head would sunder and I clawed one side, focusing all my being to glare at the Breach. It must close. If only I had been stronger, and didn’t need that wretched Tevinter Magister.

Fenedhis!

Fire tore through me and I fought to not let my injuries show. No one knew about the link and I didn’t trust them to understand. Waking from the Uthenera would be for naught if I fell here. As the moments lengthened, my brows knitted and rose with the bile in my stomach. Why was it taking too long?

“Fenedhis lasa!” Too weak!

Despair filtered through my thoughts, gripped my heart in a vice. Every pore of magic sang a dirge to the surface wanting, begging to return home to the Fade. I pulled back even as my body bent to its knees.

Not again… another people… damned because of me.

This time the pop clapped the air and flung it, and us, away. Falling backwards, I skidded over rocks and temple debris. Crashing into a crumbling wall then through it, I felt the beast snarl and recoil. It begged release harder than all my magic but I stayed its paws. My skull was splitting like a raw wound and I felt thick, warm liquid slide down the side of my head, near my ear, over the spot it throbbed most prominent.

Groaning, I pushed the stone bits from my chest and lap feeling more than stiffened muscles, but stayed laying on my back. For a moment, I stared up at the sky wondering if the clouds still swirled or if that was me. After a few steady breaths paused the spinning world, I rolled onto my side then to my knees. Bracing myself on all fours, I pushed to stand – squeezing my eyes shut to ward away dizziness. A haziness settled in my stomach and my legs swayed. I pressed the flat of my palm on what was left of the wall and concentrated to swallow down the nausea.

When the sensation passed I opened my eyes.

Dust.

Rubble.

Bodies, most only stunned –

Her.

Forgetting that I felt hedged by unconsciousness minutes prior, I bolted toward the elven mage’s prone body. Blood and dirt coated her face just as it did when she started to close the Breach, only now I noticed much belonged to her. A dozen cuts and bruises glistened and puckered along her face, neck and arms. The tears and fraying of her overly large tunic suggested more beneath. What skin was free of the bloom of blood looked sallow and sweat-soaked. Kneeling beside her, I took her into my lap as I had in Haven’s dungeons. What possessed me I couldn’t tell, but my heart clenched at the thought we did indeed kill her.

I killed her.

Warm breath pushed through her slightly parted, very swollen lips. It wasn’t until my heart stuttered and a painful hitch forced out a gasp that I noticed I stopped breathing. I moved a sticky, wet black strand of hair from her closed eyes, hooking it behind a long, slender ear tip. My knuckles brushed the thin, tapered point igniting a fire in my stomach that was very much not from my magic.

“Solas?”

Letting out another slow breath to cool the sudden flare of desire, I glanced up at Cassandra once I felt more composed. She stared down with a curious glint in her eyes and raised brows. Blood and sweat glistened on her face as well, but she seemed more unaffected by the fight. Probably her training under the Seekers.

Tucking the elf into my arms, close to my chest, I took to my feet – slow and careful – so not to jostle the unconscious woman.

“She lives, but Adan should prepare poultices. Rest is what she needs, Cassandra.” I said, handing the prisoner reluctantly over the warrior.

I made no outward display and kept all muscles in my face relaxed. With a quiet grunt, I picked up my staff from where it fell – pleased to see that it hadn’t snapped in half from the force – and stared up at the scar of the Breach. How long would it hold? Would we have time to catch Corypheus and recover my orb?

“Seeker,” I threw a glance over my shoulder to see a perplexed looked on Cassandra’s face as she stared at her sleeping prisoner. One corner of my lip twitched, threatening to pull into a smile, but I held it at bay. Instead, I continued with my question. “What is your prisoner’s name?”

Cassandra nearly dropped her charge when she realized I hadn’t left yet. My thighs coiled and energy crackled on my fingertips ready to do whatever I could to keep the woman who just saved us from further harm. The Seeker’s fast reflexes caught the prisoner before she even dropped a foot, but I heard a pained moaned. My brow twitched in annoyance.

Cassandra tossed me an all too familiar glare. “Don’t do that, Solas. Maker! If I--” Her voice dropped off killing the threat, with an answer to my question in its place. “Ellana Lavellan.”

“Ellana Lavellan.” I tasted her name on my lips, and it rekindled the cloying arousal. “Thank you.”

I retreated into the shadows and down the mountain. Right then I desperately needed to be rid of all the sights, smells… people. Alone with the bitter wind clawing at my tunic instead of demons. I took a shuddering breath of icy air. The beast gnashed at me wanting something different – something I was greatly against.

“Ir abelas, Ellana Lavellan.” I whispered over my shoulder before I retreated into the snow and darkness.

[veridium]

3,4,5 on the fanfiction asks for All That Glitters

Oh my goodness, of course! I am honored to have an ask from you, friend. :) Hope you are well!  Woo!

3. What’s your favorite line of narration?

Oh, man. This is always so tough for me no matter the fic. I have to say, one of the most poignant excerpts comes when (spoilers) Cassandra is injured and Olivia immediately has a violent meltdown thinking she’s lost her lover forever, and Theia and Vivienne have to restrain her from burning the entire place down. She’s screaming and yelling empty, horrible threats to their enemies and making a scene in the most devastating of ways, and her allies can’t let her have her justice:

These threats and promises would haunt Theia, and even Vivienne in a more discrete way, for a long time – no one ever forgets witnessing one of their closest friends fall apart and lose everything about their character and personality that made them remarkable. In this moment, the ounces of happiness, compassion, and kindness had bled out of Olivia’s soul. In their place was a furious, unending intemperance with a thirst for blood.

In this snapshot there’s a depth to it from many different points of view, which was important to me. This scene shows the way Theia must reckon with how she broke her best friend’s trust and possibly cost her the love of her life. Then there’s Vivienne who knows what it is like to love someone hopelessly, and to grieve for them; her witnessing Olivia’s meltdown stays with her because something raw within her connects and empathizes with it, though she does not often allow herself to lose control like that. 

Then there’s Olivia falling apart and letting go of any and all “goodness” – she has realized one of her worse nightmares, and this is what the world gets for that. It’s the great caveat to her entire existence, who she could become should the people she cares about be taken from her, and for a moment we get a taste of how utterly fucked up it could be.

4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

OK, HONORABLE MENTION goes to when Olivia mocks Cassandra’s Nevarran accent in Chapter 9:

“Oh, and I was just sitting pretty?”

Cassandra couldn’t help but grin with slight embarrassment at her rhetorical misstep. “No, not at all, I was simply…”

“You were simply, what, mocking feminine reliance on traditional forms of transportation? I could have ridden circles around your lopsided self, Cassandra Pentaghast. Do not play me for a fool.”

Cassandra chuckled, letting her right arm reach down and embrace Olivia’s bare thigh that had been slightly submerged as it clung to her side. Olivia shook her head, not knowing why she allowed such assumptions to go unchecked whilst she and her divine body were laid out for the grabbing and taking. Such ego.

“Wahriours,” Olivia mocked, with her own sterling rendition of a Nevarran accent, “we do nauht sit pritty in wooden buhxes, we prefur to git empayled with swords out in the open!” she held the sponge in the air as if she were wielding a weapon and leading a charge onto a battlefield. “Pritty Mages sit on their hands that just so happin to wield the powur of the Fade itself! Such fools.”

But I think Chapter 8 takes the cake for my favorite, in the end when it comes to light just how mad Olivia went in the wake of Cassandra’s injury. She’s feeling super self-conscious not only as a woman but as a Mage for losing her cool so deeply – after all her lover is Cassandra, the person who’s reputation is partially her critical nature for Magic. But when she confesses how upset she was Cass simply embraces her and sympathizes, and I think that’s a pivotal moment in their relationship:

“You know what I would say to those who would judge you for how you reacted?” she asked in a lower tone.

Olivia shook her head once, still a bit self-conscious with herself.

Cassandra smirked slightly. “I would say that no one gets to scold my woman for her righteous anger. I would say that it is one of the most powerful parts of her, because when she is angry, she means it. I would say that you are in every way deserving of the right to be furious. Lastly, I would say under absolutely no circumstances will anyone be allowed to make her feel like holding her head one inch lower than she should. Not even over my dead body.”

Olivia’s lips parted as she let out an emotional breath, her eyes that she believed to be dried up began to feel heavy with tears. The acceptance was always surprising to her skeptical heart.

Seeing the way her eyes began to water, Cassandra smiled softly.

“Then you would most likely punch them in the face,” Olivia played, giggling with her slightly brittle voice.

Just. UGH. SUPPORT YOUR PARTNERS AND UPLIFT THEM EVEN WHEN THEY FEEL LIKE CRUD, OKAY? PSA. 

5. What part was hardest to write?

I should say it was very hard to write the scene where Olivia reacts to Cassandra’s sacrifice, mostly because I felt SO. BAD. 

But overall, the hardest was definitely Cassandra’s dream sequence with “Anthony.” It was difficult to imagine how they would interact after all these years, and Cass’s skepticism with it being really him versus a mimicking spirit. For this scene I had to tap into some deeper source of insight and think about my relationship with my own older brother. My brother has health issues so I have had to contemplate on more than one occasion what it would be like if he was no longer living.

So, for this chapter I imagined what it would be like for me to experience a dream like that if I had lost him. It was important for me to capture the heartache in Cassandra’s skepticism: how she believes it most likely is not him, but seeing your brother, your first best friend, your hero in what appears to be flesh and blood after so much time? It would be devastating. Losing someone not only to death but to time, realizing the little intricacies of who they are have slipped your mind, is incredibly difficult to reckon with. I was thinking about how much I would just want to lay there and soak in everything about my brother that I missed but was losing my grip on as years wore on, remember him happy and unharmed, at peace. 

So, yeah. I am never one to write without a box of tissues nearby, haha. 

Thank you again for asking!

Send me a Fanfic Ask!