#i had solas's hand out but he's always got his hands behind his back. this felt more natural

[redlyriumidol]

before they became mortal enemies these two hippies used to smoke """herb blends"""* together and talk about deep shit.

*probably mugwort because smoking it gives you weird dreams. and elfroot, obviously

[kcwriter-blog]

Just recently I asked myself an important question. Why do I, a person not usually into angst, continue to romance Solas. It’s not like it’s going to end differently. My Lavellan will always get her heart broken. 

The simple answer? It’s worth it. There is a gentleness in how they treat each other that you don’t find in many real-life relationships much less in a video game. It’s soft, quiet, and tender. It’s what love looks like after years with someone you truly care about.

How can that be? Solas isn’t being honest with her. To Solas’ credit, he realizes that. He takes her to Crestwood to tell her the truth. When he realizes he can’t, he breaks it off. Which in and of itself is an act of love.

What he is honest about is his love for Lavellan. He never denies his feelings. A case in point is the aftermath of the first kiss. It would be so easy for Solas to say that he just got caught up in the moment. He doesn’t. He may say that it’s been a long time and that he thinks a relationship isn’t a good idea, but he never denies that he has feelings for her. Even when he breaks it off, he refuses to lie and say she was a casual dalliance or that he doesn’t love her. 

For her part, Lavellan never pushes Solas. When he asks for time to think, she grants it. “Take all the time you need.” She understands him. He has trust issues. Getting into a relationship with her would be a big step for him. She may not know what made him that way, but she cares enough to let him decide if a relationship is something he truly wants.  She is willing to wait.

This demonstrates a respect for each other and for their budding relationship. They are honest about their feelings. They are willing to take it slow. They talk about it like adults. They go into it knowing there will be risks.

An underrated aspect of the relationship is the conversations where Solas shares his recollections of things he saw in the Fade. Solas isn’t just randomly pulling stories out of his hat. He is telling Lavellan about the things he saw that meant the most to him. He is opening up to her, trusting that she won’t laugh at him or dismiss him. For her part, she actively listens. It’s a quiet kind of loving and, for me, one of the most intimate things you can do in a relationship.

The balcony scene is another place where this plays out. Solas wants to be with Lavellan. He has come up to the balcony to tell her that. He still has reservations. He wants her but he doesn’t want to hurt her. 

Lavellan knows he must be the one to make the choice. Instead of kissing him, she puts her hands behind her back. If he wants this, he will have to kiss her. He balks. She asks him not to go. Many people interpret this as begging. That’s not it. She is telling him, quietly, that if he leaves, she won’t wait any longer. “It would be kinder in the long run but losing you would���” He can’t. He loves her. He decides to take the risk. 

There is also a strong spiritual component to their relationship. Solas isn’t attracted by her physical beauty. He is all about the spirit. To him she is wonderful. Someone wise. Someone who thinks before she acts. He calls her beautiful in Crestwood, but I think he is talking about her soul, not what she looks like. 

There are many other small moments that give us clues as to what their relationship looks like post balcony scene. Solas attempts to comfort her at the Winter Palace by dancing or taking her in his arms. She reassures him that he can trust her. They hold hands in Crestwood. He calls her “my heart” and it’s clear she is precious to him. His voice when he speaks with her in Crestwood is intimate. It’s a vocal tenor we don’t hear anywhere else. He remonstrates with Sera when she jokes about his relationship with Lavellan. 

I find it interesting that even if Lavellan is angry, when Solas finds the broken orb she isn’t fist pumping because he didn’t get what he wanted. She treats him with kindness. 

He goes out of his way to tell her what they had was real – or that she was right to be angry. No matter what happened they acknowledge each other’s feelings. 

Everything paints a picture of an intensely private, intimate, loving relationship. That’s what I love about it and it’s why I keep coming back for more. 

[heylittleriotact]

𝓐𝓵𝓰𝓸𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼:

The normal cooling of a body after death as it equilibrates with the ambient temperature.

Takes place immediately following the ending of Act 3 and features Emmrich and Amina taking a moment to themselves after all is said and done. Emmrich takes care of his beloved Reaper, and following a brief discussion about their respective plans for the future, she returns the favour.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3:

The roar of victory was a dull thrum that followed them through the ruined streets of Minrathous, part elation that the Elvhen threat had been bested, and partly devastation for the many lives their success had cost. Amina acknowledged every single person she passed by: hugs and handshakes were reciprocated without question, and condolences were extended to the bereaved with all of the dignified sincerity of a Watcher. It took them nearly two hours to make their way to a damaged but still structurally sound estate secured for them by the Shadow Dragons but if asked, Amina would do it all again 

The ornate doors of the manor closed behind them and the cacophony outside was muffled. Amina took two steps into the manor, bent at the waist, and splattered the floor with the contents of her stomach. 

Emmrich was on her in an instant, holding her long black hair aside with one hand and running the other comfortingly down her back.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Taash demanded, taking a step forward. Their voice was distant - drowned out by the screeching whine in Amina’s ears.

She felt her legs wobble and give out, her armoured knees colliding roughly with the ground as she threw out a hand to steady herself, barely registering that it landed right in her sick. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too… real. It felt like she was being driven out of her own body like a wayward spirit, her essence clinging desperately to whatever it could hold onto that would tether her here. 

Just as distantly, Amina could hear Emmrich respond to Taash but his words were lost on her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and lurched clumsily to her feet.

“Harding - I need to go to her mother–” Her voice broke: she hadn’t had time… she had intended to visit Harding’s mother in person to check in on her in the days following her daughter’s death, but Elgar’nan - and Solas - had made that impossible.

She clenched her teeth at the sensation of hot tears cutting through the accumulation of grime and gore and sweat on her face, snarling defiantly through the deluge of agony crashing through her, breaking her from the inside. 

There’s still work to be done…

She was pulling away from Emmrich, her course uncharted but steadfast as she attempted to draw strength from that agony as she always had: she needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn’t matter, as long as she was doing something… as long as she was helping. But no matter how she pulled and tugged, he wouldn’t let her go: slender as Emmrich was, he wasn’t weak by any stretch.

With some effort he managed to put himself in front of her, gold rings clinking against silverite where he gripped her shoulders before pulling her tight against him. 

“Breathe, darling.” He instructed, enshrouding her diminutive frame in his own. “I need you to breathe… can you do that for me?”

She managed an anguished sob in reply but nothing more: any attempt to draw breath was met with unforgiving resistance as her airways slammed shut in seeming rebellion against life itself.

Arrangements need to be made - things need to be taken care of, and I’m the only one left to take care of them… 

“I’ve got you: you’re safe with me.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes clenched shut and she forced a thin, ragged inhalation into her lungs.

“Well done, darling.” Emmrich encouraged, ever calm, ever heartening. “Now let’s try for another one, shall we? I’ll do it with you. Let out your breath on the count of three: one… two… three…” 

She felt Emmrich contract against her as he slowly exhaled with her. None of this was new to her: Nevarran breathing techniques were required learning for Watchers. Claustrophobia could present unpredictably, and if one found themselves turned around or overwhelmed in the Necropolis, being able to stay calm was vital to survival.

“Perfect. Now another breath in…” He waited while Amina drew another shaky breath then loosened his hold on her to gently cup her cheek. Within moments she could feel the familiar soothing tingle of Emmrich’s magic coursing intimately through her, seeping through her overloaded nervous system and providing some relief until another horror blundered into her mind with nauseating insistence. 

“Shit.” Her eyes went wide. “Manfred… Emmrich, wh-where is Manfred?!”

“Manfred is perfectly safe,” he soothed, “He’s in the abundantly capable hands of Myrna and Vorgoth for the moment. In fact, before I left, I overheard Myrna explaining to him Karloff’s Five Principles of Ethical Reanimation.”

“Emmrich,” she rasped, clutching at his chest. “I… I need to–”

“Do absolutely nothing.” He interjected sternly, his voice absent of any playful familiarity or scholarly flair, though it softened almost reflexively as he continued. “You’ve overextended yourself, Amina. You’ve been overextended for some time, but you’ve pushed through to see this to the end - and you have - but my love, you can’t evade the reality of what you’ve been through indefinitely… you need to rest and take time to come to terms with things.” He drew his thumb over her cheek, speaking to her like she was the only person in the room.

“But–”

“It’s so incredibly kind of you to want to give your condolences to Lace’s mother in person, but it need not happen this instant. The… actions of the Inquisitor will be communicated to the south in due course.” He hung on the word ‘actions’ seemingly unsure of its accuracy but ultimately too focused on Amina to care enough to select a different one. “You need to rest,” he repeated.

She opened her mouth to argue, but likely having anticipated this from her, Emmrich spoke first.

“You’ve done so much and helped so many without asking for anything in return - please let me be the one to help you now?”

His eyes searched hers, soft and pleading, and she studied the face of the man she loved: each pleasing curve and angle that she had committed to memory etched on her heart. The crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, and the creases around his familiar mouth spoke of years of smiles offered to comfort and soothe. 

He was filthy too, and his hair was limp and dishevelled, strands of it hanging into his face… but oh Maker how she loved him…

“I love you…” he whispered for her ears alone, his lips ghosting over hers, “And I so look forward to reminding you of that fact every day for the rest of our lives… so let me begin now: let me take care of you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to speak: emotions overwhelmed her capacity for words. The immeasurable highs and lows had won out, capped off on the highest of highs by Emmrich’s solemn declaration: she would never face anything alone again. The fight left her as she closed her eyes and nodded, and this time Emmrich caught her tears and wiped them away. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before turning to the others. 

“She’s in no danger,” he assured them. “The gifts of a Reaper are channelled through a place of deep sorrow and grief where one should not dwell indefinitely: she is merely exhausted, and in light of this ordeal coming to an end, her body and mind are insisting upon rest and recuperation for a time. I shall go with her to find a room and get her settled in.” 

“I’ll scour the pantry.” Lucanis announced without hesitation, already shedding his gore-slicked coat. “A house like this will have a well stocked larder: I cannot do much else to assist, but I will see to it that Rook gets a good meal.” 

“And I’ll find something strong to drink -  I think we could all use one - especially Rook,” Taash volunteered grimly. 

Davrin finished checking over a cut under Assan’s eye, deeming it to be harmless. “Assan can keep her company after I find him something to eat. I’m sure he’d love to cuddle up with his favourite person after a day like today.”

“I’ll make sure word gets around that she’s not to be disturbed under any circumstances - Maker knows there’ll be all kinds of people at the door wanting her attention.” Neve remarked. “She’s in good hands with you, Emmrich. We’ll take care of everything else: you take care of her.” 

Their words echoed in Amina’s mind as Emmrich started to lead her away towards the carpeted stairs. It wasn’t long ago that she would have fought tooth and nail to avoid accepting their help for fear that she didn’t actually deserve it - that she had somehow tricked good-hearted people into thinking that she was worth any amount of concern. But now with this aching, vacuous hole in her chest threatening to devour her from the inside, knowing that she had many sets of arms to fall back into… it meant everything. 

“I love you too,” she said as they walked, the gold rings tied to her boots to alert any nearby spirits of her presence chiming with each tired step. “I love you so much Emmrich, I - I…” Her voice wavered and broke again.

He shushed her gently as they rose the stairs and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place comforting kisses to bloodied and dented metal. “It’s alright, darling. I know… I know.” 

They made it to the landing at the top of the stairs and Emmrich loosened his hand from hers only long enough to gesture through the air, causing the lamps lining the long hallway to illuminate with the familiar and consoling green light of veilfire - it reminded her so much of home… their home.

Meandering down the hallway, they apraised a few rooms - a study and a nursery among them - before finding a well-appointed bedroom near the end of the hall. 

The same veilfire that illuminated the hallway flooded the room with a self-assured wave of Emmrich’s fingers through the air, revealing the gilded frame of the largest four-poster bed Amina had ever seen. 

A modestly sized house would have fit comfortably within the textured red walls of the room, and every square inch was bedecked with glittering opulence and expensive furniture.

What had happened to the people who called this place home? She thought of the nursery, silent and dark, her heart sinking further.

“I know…” Emmrich’s sigh was put-upon. “It’s practically a hovel isn’t it? But our only option currently, I’m afraid.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile and despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile a little too if only for the fact that his dry humour was at its most uplifting when things seemed bleakest: it was a rarely praised trait of a good Watcher to be able to maintain a sense of humour - sometimes being able to laugh was the only thing that could keep said Watcher sane.

He closed the heavy cherry door behind them softly and turned the latch, his definition of ‘recuperation’ clearly non-negotiable to anyone who found themselves outside of the bedchamber wanting to talk to her.  

The silence was inescapable now, contrasting strongly to the overwhelming chorus of sound she’d been subjected to for hours. It filled her head - made it feel full of cotton - and she frowned, standing perfectly still, observing Emmrich as he hung his staff from the rack by the door and shed his bloodied and tattered coat, hanging it with care before turning to Amina. 

“We need to get you out of that armour.” 

He set his gloves on a nearby console table and rolled up his sleeves, agile fingers performing the task with an ease that suggested he hadn’t personally assisted with the culling of a tyrannical elvhen god today. Amina felt her mouth go dry under his perceiving gaze - she’d taken direct blows from Hurlocks that winded her less than the intensity of those eyes. Overwhelmed and at her wit’s end or not, he was capable of sending something in her soul aflutter even at a time like this… that could only mean that she was still alive, right? That she hadn’t laid the last shred of her own mortal conscience on the pyre in the name of saving what little of Thedas remained to be saved?

She swallowed thickly. “I’m experiencing some sort of deja vu, I think,” she murmured, as he closed the distance between them and began loosening her baldric. “Because I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

An amused smile visited his face, his eyes downcast and focused on his task. “We have, haven’t we? I recall that convincing you to allow me to stitch you up on that occasion was also similar to pulling teeth.”

He kissed her again and went back to work, stripping away pieces of moulded metal in silence, shucking away the intimidating, unrelenting shell of a Reaper and exposing the soft, vulnerable person underneath. 

He had made it all the way down to her greaves when she emitted a sharp gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“My shield! Where’s my shield?!” She twisted in his grasp as if to look around the room for the worn and dented buckler she famously refused to part with. 

Emmrich’s brow furrowed and he worked another strap loose. “It was broken, darling, remember? By Elgar’nan.” 

At his words, the memory rushed back to her: massive fingers curling over the edge of her shield as she held it aloft in the darkness, determined to stand her ground, her body protesting with the sheer effort of keeping her defence up in the looming shadow of her ancient enemy… the sound of metal whining as it bent in that ungodly strong grip and finally shattered…

I dropped it and finished the fight with only my sword and the dagger…

“Oh, right… how silly of me to forget…” she said distantly as Emmrich finished with the greave and rose with a gingerness that at last indicated his own fatigue.

“Details will likely come and go in a disconcerting haze over the coming days.” He parted from her and peered into a secondary room off the one they were in and disappeared into it when it seemed to contain what he was looking for. The sound of running water soon followed and he re-emerged. “Try not to concern yourself with them: they are of little importance right now. You have no need for a shield or sword - we are safe.” He ran a hand down her shoulder affectionately. “I understand that contradicts a large part of your vocational education, but you must trust me. Now if you’ll follow me, we’ll take care of all of that… debris in your hair.”

‘Debris’ was hardly what she would call the grisly amalgamation of fluids and various clumped tissues that would make even the most decay-happy embalmers back home feel squeamish, but Amina took Emmrich’s hand and followed him without complaint.

A gigantic clawfoot tub was filling with water in the middle of the cavernous bathroom, and judging by the calming aroma diffusing through the air, Emmrich had helped himself to some of the scented bath oils that belonged to whomever owned the manor. 

He brought her to the sink and pulled over an upholstered stool from the nearby vanity, placing it in front of the sink and gently directing her to sit, his hand on her lower back guiding her. “The bath will be more relaxing if at least your hair is clean before you get in,” he explained, turning the taps and motioning for her to lean back. 

“Is this supposed to fix things?” Her voice was so quiet and insubstantial over the rushing water - she was surprised Emmrich even heard her as she settled the base of her skull at the rim of the sink basin and he began sweeping her long hair into his hands, wetting it and carefully picking out pieces of marble and bone and viscera as he found them. 

“There is nothing to be fixed, my darling - least of all you, if that’s your primary concern. You know as well as I that our work can be exhausting - mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s why we are well compensated and encouraged to take time away from the Necropolis when we feel we need it. A lesson was learned at some point over the untold years that the Necropolis has existed and people have vowed to serve its departed souls, and that is: one cannot effectively fill the cups of others when their own is dry.” He reached over her and Amina looked up at him, hanging onto his every word. She did know all of this - in fact she’d dispensed similar advice to other Watchers and mourners alike in the past, but… hearing it from someone else… being told that it was alright and that she didn’t have to be strong right now was deeply comforting. “It is not demonstrative of carelessness to the plight of others to think of oneself. I’m of the mind that it’s one of the more selfless virtues a person can aspire to.” 

Amina closed her eyes and sighed, her nose filling with the delicate floral scent of the soap that Emmrich had started methodically working through her hair. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” 

A tender caress passed over her temple. “I do try. Are you feeling a little bit better? It looks as though some colour has returned to your face.” 

“Now you’re just laying it on thick by implying that my face had any colour to begin with, but yes… I feel steadier, more grounded.” 

“That’s music to my ears, darling,” and indeed Emmrich seemed to sag in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he rinsed away the lathered soap, his touch unerringly mild. Washing the hair of the deceased required a gentle hand - the follicles on the scalp dilated as the skin began to dehydrate in the hours after death, making it easy to accidentally pull out clumps of a decedent’s hair if one handled it too roughly.

So much of the world thought their calling was one of macabre vulgarity when it was actually an ineffable devotion of love and tenderness when it came to the handling of all things… alive or dead.

Excess water trickled down the drain as he wrung out her hair and gestured for her to sit upright with a light touch of his fingers on her shoulder - he was so good at that - so confident in his ability to impart instructions that he didn’t even need words to make his expectation clear. She turned on the seat, putting her back to him so it was easier for him to weave her damp hair into a braid.

She closed her eyes again and a satisfied hum resonated in her chest as slender fingers stroked through her hair, separating it and passing the strands from hand to hand. 

When he was done, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll leave you to the privacy of your bath, but I will remain close by: if you require anything at all, my dearest love, just call.” He bowed his head respectfully, his thumb tracing the soft skin at the inside of her wrist before he turned to depart.

“Please stay,” she entreated, locking her fingers between his before he could step out of reach. He halted. “I… I would rather not be alone right now, if it’s alright with you.” 

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the back of hers. “Of course. In that case, I’ll step out while you make yourself comfortable and will return when you’re ready for me.” 

Ever the gentleman. He clearly wasn’t going to let their passion in the Necropolis the night before get the better of decades of deeply ingrained propriety. She felt her pulse quicken slightly at the fresh memory of their night together and wondered if the invitation to keep her company while she sat naked in a bathtub made his heart pound too, but a wave of shame crashed through her just as quickly, smothering the heat that had started to smoulder in her belly: people were dead, and now was not the time for such thoughts. 

When the door closed behind Emmrich, Amina clambored out of her stiff, smelly clothing, grimacing as she peeled sticky fabric from her skin. She left everything in a heap and nudged it to the other side of the room with her bare foot, wanting to be as far away from the stench as possible. When she was satisfied, she sank into the bathtub, a purely reflexive moan slipping from her lips at the feeling of relief as warm water enfolded aching muscles. The water was almost instantly dirtied, but she didn’t care - it felt amazing. 

“You can come in.” She drew her braid over her shoulder and folded her arms on the porcelain edge of the tub, resting her chin on her hands. Even if it mattered to her there was no need to fear for her modesty: whatever Emmrich had added to the water made it semi-opaque and it looked very pretty in the light of the veilfire.

Emmrich sat on the vanity stool. “How is it, darling?” 

“It’s perfect.” She found his hand with hers again - it seemed she couldn’t bear to be parted from him for long… not when they’d come so close to losing one another.

“You have no idea what a relief that is to hear.” 

Her lips curved into a smile as she studied him silently, turning thoughts and feelings over in her mind. Her heart was heavy, and her body was spent. People had indeed died - tragedy and victory apportioned in equal measure, but Emmrich was right: she had given as much of herself to the cause as she was capable of giving… and then some. There was still work to be done - the restoration of Thedas would be long and difficult. But it was time to rest and take a hard-earned moment of peace for what it was, even though a persistent voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to cease dallying in the bath and get back to work. 

No.

“Would you like to join me?” 

The question was posed such that it caught Emmrich off guard, causing his eyes to widen and a flush of colour to creep over his pallid skin. His mouth hung open slightly.

“J-join you? I can wait until you’re done - that is to say: finished - I would hate to impose, you see–” 

She listened to him stumble over his words, enchanted by his flustered demeanour until she decided it was time to rescue him, and said, “It’s no imposition at all. Besides, if you’re in the same state as I am underneath all those clothes, I suspect you’ve got bits of darkspawn in places where even your flexible limbs can’t reach: a collaborative approach to bathing would serve us best in this situation.” 

Emmrich’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “You make a compelling argument, I admit, but–” 

“We had sex in a coffin under the Necropolis last night because we knew the world might end in the morning, Emmrich - I think it’s fair to say that any notion that this is in any way a traditional courtship has gone out the window.” She reached out and popped loose the topmost button of his shirt. “Besides, the idea of having to wait through an entire courtship before I can have you sounds torturous…” her thumb and forefinger found another button, and he didn’t move to stop her. “I think I prefer our abridged approach, if I’m being honest…” she smirked and went for the third button but he intercepted her, graceful fingers catching her wrist.

“That may be the case, dearest, but I still intend to treat you with the veneration you are owed as my beloved.” 

A shiver ran up her spine - it might have been the sentiment - my beloved - or the fact that it was delivered in a tone half an octave lower than usual. She couldn’t settle on a conclusion, but she felt emboldened regardless.

“Then you can start by getting into this ridiculously large bathtub with me,” she whispered coquettishly, and she followed the path of his hand with her eyes as it released her wrist and drifted to that third button, slipping it free with a practised twist.

She felt herself smile properly for the first time that day as Emmrich disrobed and lowered himself into the water across from her: it was real - he was real - and he wanted her. Wanted her enough to occupy dirty bathwater with her without complaint. 

His legs brushed against hers under the water and she resisted the very compelling urge to launch herself at him just to feel his skin on hers as she had the night before. Instead, she grabbed a bar of soap and a sponge off the tray on the side of the tub and held them up. 

Emmrich tilted his head inquisitively but said nothing: the amused curl of his lips said it all. He turned his back to her and slotted himself between her legs and Amina wet the soap and began wiping away the worst of the dirt from his shoulders and back with the sponge. She took her time, relishing the warmth of him under her fingers as she washed away the remains of the day. 

“So… about those plans you mentioned earlier: care to expand on them?” She ventured. 

She didn’t want to think about today anymore, didn’t want to linger on thoughts of Varric and Harding… those would insist on themselves enough over the coming months as she grieved them, she knew that for certain. Right now turning her mind to thoughts of a future that was almost lost seemed like a better distraction.

Emmrich chuckled warmly, the comforting lilt reverberating around the room. “It’s an extensive list, I’m afraid, too lengthy and detailed to summarise neatly in a few breaths.” She squeezed the sponge and sent a stream of water and suds meandering down his arm, tracing the shape of his sharp angles and lissom composition. “Truth be told, I was actually hoping you might render some assistance.” 

“Oh?”

“As you know, I have pupils awaiting my return to the Necropolis: their studies have been regrettably delayed in my absence, not to mention Manfred will require oversight as he embarks on his own educational journey.” 

“But…”

“I’ve rather enjoyed my time beyond the walls of the Necropolis, and now that I’m not… now that I will most certainly…” He seemed unable to settle on a palatable way to say ‘die’. 

“It’s alright,” she squeezed his shoulder softly. “Go on.” 

“Thank you, dear - it’s only that my priorities have been somewhat reorganised given the revised trajectory of my life: I no longer have a theoretically unlimited amount of time in which to see the world, and I find myself wondering if it would be terribly selfish of me to defer the date of my return for a while longer - take a sabbatical of sorts so that I may continue to experience the wonders of the continent without the looming threat of annihilation… with you, should you wish to accompany me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and Amina wasn’t ignorant of the fleeting glance that wandered down to her soapy breasts, nor the desire that shadowed his eyes at the sight of her pale nipples just peeking over the surface of the water. Oh dear, he was getting distracted…

“Don’t know how much of the continent there is left to see after everything.” She wrung the sponge, making a subtle but very deliberate show of pushing her breasts together with the insides of her arms. Emmrich’s throat bobbed and he seemed to win some inner struggle after a moment and looked forward again. “But yeah… I think a break would do us both some good. Besides, ‘seeing the world’ was what I was supposed to be doing anyway before this nightmare started. I’ll go anywhere with you, Emmrich,” she smiled. “Especially if there’s a beach involved.” 

She scooted closer to him, bracketing him between her thighs, finding his skin with hers as she reached around him to start soaping up his chest. Spurred on by the breathy little gasp he made, Amina continued to wash him, kissing up the line of his neck as she did. 

“What other plans would you like to make with me, darling?” She whispered, softly catching his earlobe between her teeth and earning a tantalising whine for her trouble. 

“At the moment, none that are fit for polite company…”

“Good thing it’s just the two of us then.” She let go of the sponge and dipped her hand beneath the surface of the fragrant water, unable to see, but able to feel her way, fingers dancing over his abdomen, following the neatly tended to strip of hair that started at his navel, down, down, down until she found him - and she found him to be rock hard. 

He moaned in earnest now, his head falling back against her shoulder, hand rising to cup the side of her face as she slowly stroked the length of him, humming contentedly, unable to help herself: she wanted him in her, on her, and around her at all times.

“Care to hear about my plans?” She pressed a kiss to the expanse of skin under his ear. “We can compare notes after.”

“Please,” he breathed, eyes closed, a contented smile spreading across his face - the very definition of the cat that got the cream. 

She drew nondescript shapes on his chest with her fingers, lingering on the patch of hair at his sternum, the bar of soap forgotten and lost to the bottom of the tub. “First on my list when we get out of this bath: I’m going to make love to you - slowly… sweetly.” She drew her lower lip through her teeth at the throb of his cock under her fingers and the shudder she coaxed from him when she ran the tip of her thumb over his slit, feeling the slick texture of his anticipation even in the water. “... and after that, I’m going to do it again, and Maker-willing, a third time after that if I have my way…” 

His eyebrows rose, but his eyes remained shut, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Aren’t we ambitious?” He purred, arcing up into her touch a little. “One can’t help but wonder what you’ll do after that…”

“Oh, find something to eat.” She answered matter-of-factly, entirely at the mercy of the rising heat between her thighs. “I expect I will have worked up quite an appetite, you see.” 

“It’s important to stay nourished,” Emmrich agreed, exhaling deeply as she continued to fondle him under the water. “That feels so good, darling…” 

“Good.” She smiled against his skin and kissed his temple. “Because that’s also part of my plan, broadly speaking: I’m going to make you feel amazing for the rest of our lives, Emmrich. Not a single sun will set on a day where you feel alone: your joys will be my joys, your sorrows my sorrows.”

His eyes opened at that and he regarded her with that soft look of utter adoration that he was so adept at. He stroked her cheek and she nuzzled into his long fingered hand. “My dear… that was quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

“Delivered whilst pleasuring you no less.”

“You are beyond compare, darling Amina.” He sighed and lazily thrust up into her hand again. “And I daresay our respective plans indeed bear many similarities. I would even go so far as to say they align perfectly.” He sat forward and turned so he was face to face with her again, collecting her arms and drawing her close so their noses were almost touching. 

“Lucky me.” 

He traced each vertebrae of her spine with lithe fingers, bangles clinking together as they slipped down his arm one after the other, his hand finding the curve of her rear and drawing their centres even closer together. She positively ached with need for him as he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, unabashedly exploring her mouth and tasting her with a dominance she was not anticipating. When they parted her lips and cheeks were flushed, her pupils blown wide. 

“I’m going to make a home with you, Rook - that is my plan.” 

Amina considered him - his intelligent bottle green eyes inches from hers, their breath shared, their bodies practically flush. Despite how lust-addled her exhausted brain was, tears returned to her, driven by the sheer depth of Emmrich’s ambitions for them: A home. A life together and all that could come with it if she only dared to dream it - her: the Necropolis foundling who never felt like she truly belonged anywhere or mattered to anyone beyond the basic charity of some.

“We need to hurry up and finish with this bath,” she rasped, her voice low to keep it steady. “I need you. I need you now.” She crushed her lips to his hungrily and breathed, “I love you.” 

What immediately followed was a frenzy of soap and bubbles and water splashing over the tile floor as they finished scrubbing each other down with much less sensual flair than before. The plunger was pulled from the bottom of the tub and they towelled off as it drained, pausing intermittently to passionately embrace. 

“I never thought I could be this happy,” she panted, rising on her tip-toes to pepper his jawline with kisses. 

“Nor I,” Emmrich concurred. He turned her head and buried his nose in her neck, sucking a rosy mark onto her skin, unable to help himself as her hands roamed. He snaked his arm around her waist and hoisted her aloft, racing for the bedroom, her legs tight around him, her entire being coursing with the anticipatory thrill of their imminent union. 

He placed her on the bed with a tenderness that contrasted heavily with the urgency of their flight from the bathroom and prowled over the bed towards her, the inherent grace of his body setting her heart aflame as he splayed one hand over her lower belly and slid her leg aside with the other, opening her like the cherished pages of a beloved tome. He looked positively sinful between her legs, his hair dishevelled and dripping rivulets of water down his neck and shoulders. 

Her breath hitched at the feeling of his lips against her, the soft tickle of his moustache over the sensitive skin at the peak of her thighs. “Ohhh…”

His eyes were locked on hers. He parted her with his fingers, dipped his head, and —

Thump-thump-thump.

Of course there was someone at the door. 

Amina heaved a massive sigh and dragged her hands through her hair in exasperation. She’d seen Emmrich annoyed before - or at least she thought she had - but the look on his face now was one of primly murderous intent: the face of a man whose nearly boundless patience was being sorely tested in this moment. The expression softened, though, when he looked back to her and said, “I’ll see to it, darling - I shan’t take long.” He placed his lips sweetly against her swollen bud - a parting kiss - before sliding from the bed. 

He quickly donned an elegant paisley dressing gown that he snatched from the wardrobe, and Amina knew he would never have considered helping himself to someone else’s things under normal circumstances, but his clothes were in a filthy heap on the bathroom floor, and while they had all grown quite close during their time together, Emmrich preferred to keep some things private. 

She propped her head on her hand and stifled a giggle as he walked past a shelf, flung out an arm, grabbed a book without looking, and arranged it in front of him in such a way that it concealed his prominent arousal. She couldn’t tell who was outside as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, so she let her head fall to the pillow and rolled onto her back. It was a very comfortable bed: soft pillows, expensive linens.

Terribly comfortable. 

Weeks of broken sleep caught up with her all at once as she fought to keep her eyes open: she was so tired all of a sudden. 

So incredibly, inescapably tired…

If Lucanis had drawn any conclusions about the reason for his state of dress or his wet hair, he kept them to himself but for the briefest arching of a brow as he handed Emmrich the tray of toasted cheese sandwiches and bid him a long and restful night of sleep. Emmrich wished him the same and watched the Crow disappear back down the stairs before retreating into the room and locking the door again.

“Lucanis managed to scrape together–” he looked towards the bed and paused: Amina was sleeping soundly on top of the comforter, her face peaceful and unvexed: a rare sight indeed. Something in his chest pulled as he watched her even, deep breaths, her mouth slightly open as she slumbered. 

He set down the sandwiches and the book very carefully on the console table, not daring to make any noise that might startle her awake before making his way over to the bed and positioning her under the blankets with the same amount of care, manoeuvring her battered and scarred legs so she was covered and warm.

She had such plans for the evening, but as he shed the dressing gown and slipped into the bed alongside her, he was grateful that she had found rest at last: they had the rest of their lives to make love.

The veilfire light in the room was snuffed with a wave, and as he curled around her in the dark, losing himself in the scent of her, he found his own respite in the rhythm of her heart beneath his hand and the unpromised gift of tomorrow. 

[inquisimer]

Loving the rook and viago dynamic, chefs kiss 🤌.

If your taking requests, I love the idea of rook slowly becoming more angry or snappy after the regret prison. Thought the "I've been taking care of myself for a long time and don't need your help" prompt would be perfect for an angry rook to their bro. viago

YESSSS I love them so much, Crow Dad makes me [screeches unintelligibly]. And yes, I always take prompts, thank you for this one!! It had me looking at Arlow & Viago's relationship through a different lens, which was great 💜

Arlow de Riva & Viago de Riva | 680 words | endgame spoilers, referenced major character death

-

Arlow’s fingers slipped against her armor’s leather straps again and she huffed, frustrated. It was a buckle, it shouldn’t be so damn hard—

“Need a hand?”

She stiffened, fist clenching around the strap instead. “No. I’ve got it.”

Viago stepped into the meditation chamber anyway, the door shutting with a deafening click behind him. The blackout curtains over the windows kept the room dark, save for a few clusters of candles that flickered over the sharp, familiar planes of his face. Arlow stared pointedly down, cursing under her breath when the strap slipped from her grasp again.

“Yes, clearly,” Viago said dryly. He leaned against the buffet at the back of her couch and folded his arms. “The offer stands, if at any point you’d like to be less stubborn about it.”

Arlow ignored him. She wasn’t going to tell him that dregs of Solas’ Fade prison lingered on her, a numbness in her fingers and toes, a persistent chill that no fire or blanket could ward off, an unmistakable sense of being watched and judged and found wanting. He didn’t get to kick her out of the nest and expect things to be the same once she’d found her wings; she’d gotten this far and she would get through this, too.

Her fingers slipped once more. “Cazza,” she muttered.

“Arlow—“

“No, Viago,” she snapped. “I just need to—“ She pinched the strap between her nails this time and pulled it through the buckle. It left a little half-moon indentation in the purple leather, but it was fastened and it would fade. Much like she assumed the bitter coating on her teeth when she looked at Viago would fade… eventually.

She knew he was proud of her. She knew that he cared, in that closed-off, brusque way of his. But her heart was only getting about two-thirds of the way to letting him back in, because Solas’ trap finally had her dwelling on the way this contract started.

If Viago were caught in a prison of his own regrets, would he see her, leaving with Varric? She’d told Lucanis that she knew he didn’t have a choice, with the other Talons out for blood. And she did believe that. But the job had finally scraped her too raw for that to be anything other than a cold comfort.

He could have saved her. And someone else might have tripped into Varric’s crosshairs—someone who might have saved him. And Davrin. And Bellara.

Guilt and regret crept up her throat. They curled around her neck and trailed after her like a smoky shadow she just couldn’t shake. So she clung to the anger instead and let it shield her from the breakdown they threatened.

“Did you need something?” she asked, pulling on her gloves and flexing her fingers. “I should go check on my team.”

“Look at me.” His stern, quiet voice brokered no argument; it never had. Reluctantly, Arlow put the wardrobe at her back and did as he ordered. Her eyes were steely and the hard line of her jaw invited no comfort—not that she expected he would have offered, anyway.

His own expression was as inscrutable as always, almost foreboding in the odd shadows cast by the half-melted candles. For a moment, Arlow had the sense of how everyone else must see the Fifth Talon—terse, unyielding, the quiet threat of an expert assassin without any of the care that she was accustomed to.

It almost chilled her enough to make her relent. Almost—but her hands were still numb, and her heart still hurt. She still needed the anger, or she was going to get someone else killed.

“No, I—“ Viago cleared his throat. “No. You should go.”

Before we say something we both regret, Arlow thought. She knew what it would be for her. As he glanced away—he never looked away first—she wondered what he was afraid of letting slip. And she wondered, as she gave him her back, if he, too, felt the painful echo of watching her walk away.

She left.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

The Rabbit

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ drug use (weed), dom/sub, thigh riding, breast worship (f!), rough oral (f!), multiple orgasms, rough sex, p-in-v, doggy style, dirty talk, squirting, choking, spitting, unprotected sex, violence, blood and gore, tearful goodbyes

The battle for all of Thedas nearly drawn to their door, Vella and her bear share an urgent night of passion before it all falls around them...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

"Really? You never learned how to play Wicked Grace?" Varric gave her a dubious stare.

"Is that so unbelievable?" Vella countered, sidling up to the table. "How easily you've forgotten I'm a wild woman from the forest." She sighed with mock weariness, smiling at Blackwall as his hand came to her hip.

Cullen flitted his gaze as she plopped into Blackwall's lap.

"You never taught her?" Varric directed at Blackwall, that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Are you kidding?" Blackwall laughed, his wide hand squeezed her thigh under the table. "You thought Solas could play you out of the clothes on your back? Nah, I know a card shark in the making when I see one."

Vella scoffed in mock affront and stuck her tongue out at him. Cullen caught on his own spit at the reveal of her tongue ring. Suddenly, he was very focused on his cards after a few solid coughs.

"Oh, he's got you pegged." Dorian agreed.

"Actually, I'm the one-"

"Could we start, please?" Cullen cut her off, his face scarlet. "I have a thousand things to do."

Bull laughed behind his hand, giving her an appreciative wink as he pushed coin onto the table. Vella smiled and tossed her leg over her thigh, lighting a pipe of elfroot.

"You're going to give the poor man a complex." Blackwall laughed low, speaking Elvhen to her under his breath. Spreading his cards in his hand.

"If that's all it takes..." She hummed mischievously.

"Hey! No elf whispering." Varric chided. "I'm barely convinced you don't know how to play as it is."

"Varric!" Vella gasped, leaning on a palm. Giving the slightest wiggle in Blackwall's lap. "Have I not proven myself trustworthy yet?"

"Oh no, Sunshine." He warned in a tease. "You may be sweet, but women as beautiful as you are always cunning."

Vella smiled wide.

He was right, of course. She had never played this game, but their companions tells were easy told to her. Even more so as the drink started flowing. Her own imbibing herbs left her warm and fizzled, leaning back into Blackwall's wide chest as content as a cat in a sunbeam.

Vella smiled at Cullen as he spun a tale from his templar days. It was rather tame to her standards, but he told it with the boisterous joy of retelling something rather sordid.

"What did he do?" Josephine urged through a giggle.

"Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armor."

The table lit with laughter, appreciative remarks thrown from all sides. The air warm with drunken comradery.

Blackwall's hand had come to rest on the curve of her hipbone, giving his own rough chuckle. A slow but insistent drag of his thumb on her waist had started, a near unconscious sign of his hidden desire.

She couldn't help but agree. This strain of elfroot left her snuggly and needful, barely restrained from kissing at his throat at the table.

It was criminal how attracted she was to this man. At all times, in danger of rubbing into him like a beast in heat. Gods when they finally get to live together...

The thought intruded, as it was bound to.

If. Not when.

They were facing down Corypheus within the next few days, she was sure of it. Though she was without foresight, there was something tight pulled in her gut. A certainty that he was somewhere within her horizon.

But she didn't want to think about that now. Only focused on the warmth surrounded behind her and the sensation of being slow and soft. Blinking up at him in adoration.

His stare caught hers, smiling under his mustache.

"No need to stare at me like that, dove. I'm already in love with you, don't need more persuading."

"You two are so..." Cassandra sighed dreamily, face propped on both hands. Eyes aglow with the unabashed reverie only brought out with a few tankards of beer.

"Careful Seeker," Varric chuckled. "You might come off as a romantic. And I just won." He planted the Angel of Death card on the table nonchalantly.

"No!" Cassandra cried. Slamming her hand of cards down in a huff.

But all of their companions became peripheral to Vella as her body saught for more touch. Both the elfroot and the heat of his body had left her heavy and sighing. Nuzzling into his throat like a hungry kitten.

"Do you need my attention, little bird?" He teased under his breath. But she could feel the drum of his heart against her. He needed it just as bad as she did.

"Are you going to win?" She whispered in his ear.

"Absolutely not." He chuckled.

"Then throw the game and fuck me." The whisper pushed directly into the well.

His breath caught in his throat, and she smiled against it. Rising off his lap to give a demure goodnight to their friends. Many voices rung out to wish her off, and she sauntered away. Headed towards her chambers.

Vella made her way upstairs, humming happily. Shedding her clothes in a line as she made her way to the bed. Snatching one of Blackwall's tunics that she had 'borrowed' from the back of a chair. Letting the linen fall over her as she pulled her hair through the neck to cascade down her back again.

She climbed into the bed with the satisfaction of a rabbit in a burrow. Curling up in the blankets as it pulls the earth around it. Humming out in contentment.

She had just fallen into a near sleep tranquility when the bed shifted behind her. Strong arms taken up around her under blankets.

"Mmm..." She turned, pressing into him. "You're made for cuddling."

"Am I?" He chuckled low, pulling her to him by her waist. Weaving his limbs into hers.

"Very. So big and warm and sweet." She praised, wiggling happily into his hold.

"And furry." She added, tugging in a soft tease on his beard. "I just want to kiss you all the time. You're wonderful."

"Maker, you're going to puddle me." He accused, his pupils wide with love as he stared down at her. "That elfroot made you too sweet."

"And yet, I'm not being eaten." She sighed mournfully. "I thought bears liked honey."

The blood rushing through her body was utterly intoxicated by the feeling of him against her. Tangling her limbs into his and kissing at his throat.

"Do you want to be tasted, honey?" He hushed, voice husky with desire.

She nodded up at him, her eyes seeking plaintively.

She had always leaned towards dominance in intimacy, but he pulled something from her. Something soft and submissive. Fallen under him a tame little thing, asking to be touched with wide eyes and softly parted lips.

"You're so beautiful." He marveled quietly, running his thumb over her bottom lip. Scanning her face in reverent glances. "Maker, how are you so perfect?"

He leaned down and kissed into the side of her neck. A wide hand pushed up her ribcage to cup her breast, thumbing her nipple over his tunic.

She whined softly, pulling his leg with hers to press his thigh against her sex. Grinding slow into the taut muscle.

"Fuck, yes." He encouraged, pressing his thigh harder into the ridge of her. Grabbing her ass in a handful to rock her against him.

"Could you cum on my thigh?" His deep voice sweet in its request.

She nodded again, pulling the tunic up to her clavicle. Arching her chest up in unabashed request.

He agreed immediately, breathing hard through nose as his mouth descended onto her peak. Licking the sensitive nub into his lips.

She bit into her lip as her head craned back. Another whine caught in her throat. The growl of his moan against her tingled through her whole body. Her cunt fully flooded with arousal. Climbing closer and closer to her tipping point with each grind of her hips. Her soft cries getting needy and choppy.

His tongue slurped and popped around her nipple, tongue flicking and laving flat lines through panted breaths. Watching her under his brow with dark blown eyes. Twisting her other nipple between his fingers.

How he already knew how to fast pull her thread was entirely unfair. The points of her body and how they needed to be touched to unravel her completely.

"Oh gods..." She moaned, gripping his forearm. Orgasm tight pulled in the drive of her hips.

"Yes, cum on me pretty girl." He praised around her breast. Grasping the outside of her thigh, pulling her deeper. "I want to lick your cunt while it's clenching."

The vulgar of it sent her over. Shuddering through waves of pleasure striking out through her body. Clawing into his back.

He smiled, rising off her tender breast to descend between her legs. Cupping the apex of her thighs in both hands.

"So sweet." He sighed out in contentment as he nestled between. Licking her cum from her thighs. The bristle of his beard teased against the soft skin as his tongue pushed deep into her. Slurping obscenely as he lapped cum into his mouth.

"I love you." She sighed around her moans, pressing her hand against the headboard as he took her apart with a suckling tongue. "Fuck, I love you Thom."

She froze, the intoxicating herbs and touch had left her mind hazy. But her calling of his true name only drove him harder against her. His calloused hands dug into the fat of her thighs, moaning into her core. Yanking her flush to his face. Eating voraciously, tongue and lips crushing into her with animal fervor.

She whimpered cries, and he growled into her. His steel eyes watched her writhe under his brow. His fingernails dug painfully into her thighs, but the pain only danced deliciously with her delirious pleasure. A flood about to burst the dam.

He lapped flat at her tender clit under the suction of his lips. Just the sound was enough to send her over, but the ferocity was overkill. She came in a strangled, shuddered cry. Her body trembled and curled up with a terrible pleasure. Fisting in to the sheets as her head craned back. Pelvis the nexus of an earthquake that rocked her whole body.

"Ohhh fuck yes." Thom growled, leaning back to thrust his fingers into her still clenching cunt. Eliciting a cry from her as he fast slammed his fingers inside. "Give it to me, baby."

A shuddering she had rarely experienced tightened around his fingers. Her thighs wet with release. She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle a shriek. Her eyes utterly lost in her skull.

Thoms deep groans of appreciation watching her soak him were only heightened by him pulling his fingers free slowly to lick them clean. He kept her gaze as he licked his wrist up into his palm, her cum slick veiled along his skin.

She urged him up to her with pulls of her legs. Undressing him with rapid fingers as he met her above.

She opened her mouth wide, tongue stuck out flat in request. He understood implicitly and spat in her mouth. Her cunt clenched hard and she led his hand to her throat as she kicked off his trousers.

His reverent love making was wonderful, but this is what she always craved. Fucking nasty and mean. The kind of fucking done by animals in rut.

His eyes flashed dangerously, understanding her again. Flipping her onto her belly easily, hiking her hips high with rough grunting yanks.

She moaned into the pillows, arching her back. Giving him the full display of her submissive body curled for him.

"Maker's breath." He huffed, taking a full handful of her ass. Spreading his hand down her lower back. "Such a beautiful whore."

Vella moaned loudly, and Thom grabbed a fistful of her hair. Pulling her up to him as he lined up behind her. Growling into her ear as his hand tightened around her throat.

"You're my whore, aren't you?" His thick cock breached her as he threatened, pulling a strangled moan from her. "My pretty little whore, soaking the bed."

She nodded dumbly, already fluttering around the mass of him. A third orgasm refining to a spear inside her, nearing to striking distance.

"That's right." He huffed, thrusting hard into her. The slide against that mind-numbing place inside her entrance was near unbearable. Her body tried to collapse against the sheets, but his hand spread flat across her sternum. Demanding her to stay.

"You're not going anywhere." He promised in a huff. His thrusts picked up speed. "Not until I'm done with you."

"Yes, ser." She moaned. The squelching of her cunt so salacious it made her dizzy.

"Keep talking." He demanded. Gripping her hip as an anchor. Her body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Fingers digging into her neck.

"I can't, I'm about to cum!" She pleaded in Elvhen around mewls, mind unable to speak Common anymore. "Fuck, you're going to make me-"

Her words cut off in a whip of cries as she came again. Fingernails scrambled into his sides behind her. Choking on her own raw pleasure.

He cursed under his breath and released her in a heap under him. His hands took up both sides of her hips to solely thrust.

"Say my name."

"Thom." She pleaded.

"Again. Louder."

"Thom, please! Please!"

She looked over her shoulder at the wild bear rutting into her.

"Please cum Thom! I need you to cum!"

He finally buckled, a hand bracing on her lower back as his face crumpled in release. Driving sloppy into her as he bellowed behind clenched teeth. Her cunt flooded with warmth, pulling a wide smile from her. No matter how he insisted and promised he couldn't help but to cum inside her. It wasn't a problem anymore, so she could revel fully in it.

He fell back into an open kneel, huffing and sweating. Eyes glazed and rolling marble in his head.

Vella turned and pulled him onto his belly. His body limp and pliant to her leading, following easily. Fallen under her in a slump.

She sat on him and drug her nails lightly up and down his back. His deep moan exactly what she was looking for.

After a moment of gentle scratching, his breath returned in slow pulls of his chest. Body completely loose under hers, arms curled around his head, face slack against the pillow.

"You still with me?" She teased in a quiet voice.

"Uh-huh..." He sighed, his eyes struggling to focus.

"I'm not convinced. Quick, what's the capital of Orlais?"

He smacked her thigh with a limp palm. Pulling a giggle from her.

"Asshole..." He laughed, reaching back to pull her down to him. Wrapping around her, cocooned within the safety of his limbs.

"Language!" She chided in a whisper.

"Shit. Fuck." He pinched her side. "Motherfucker."

"You forgot Shitfucker."

"I love you." He smiled loosely at her, eyes soft in adoration. "Do you want to get married?"

"What?" She laughed.

"Wait, are you serious?" She hushed, rising onto elbows over his head.

"Yeah. I am." He smiled, her hair fallen curtain around him. His hands rested on her ribcage, rubbing thumbs in slow waves. "Would you marry me?"

"Dalish don't get married." She smiled with a shaken head. "We call it Bonding. And we're already engaged to be bonded, silly."

"Wait, what?" He stood on elbows now. Staring shock into her.

"Yeah, I gave you my hair..." She led in amused confusion. Planting a palm over the small pouch that he always wore pendant around his neck. "You gave me the boots you made me..."

"That was a proposal?!"

She burst into bright laughter at the absurdity of it all. She was sure he understood the meaning of the gesture after all of their lessons. He certainly acted with the appropriate solemn in taking her proposal gift.

"Yes, it was. We've been engaged to be bonded since the Grand Ball." She offered through fits of giggling.

"I-" His eyes darted down in thought, then started flooding with tears.

"Oh, dove." He warbled.

"Hey, shhh." She wrapped around him. Soothing his body into hers. "It's okay..."

"It's not okay." He countered around the tight of his throat. "I did all of that to you and didn't even know we were..."

"I forgive you." She kissed his ear, tightly holding him. "I forgive you, Thom."

He hitched a sob into her shoulder. Trembling within her woven embrace.

-

"Come on, baby." Vella huffed under her breath. Firing arrow after arrow into Corypheus. Watching her love slam into him with the last of his strength. Shield braced under the hail of red beamed death. "Come on, come on."

She threw a barrage of daggers to get him off of Thom, Dorian flanking behind her to unleash his own hellfire. Bull rushing past to cleave into Corypheus' calf.

The monstrosity cried out in rage as he fell to a kneel. Vella ran forward, seeing her target through a tunnel of spectral vision. Dagger poised along her forearm.

Thom raised his shield for her and she leapt off of it into a drive of her dagger. Screaming from deep in her gut as the blade speared through his throat.

Corypheus' breath cut as he stared shock into her. The orb pulsed with power as he still tried to wrestle it into his command.

Rage untethered flowed through her, this death a culmination of everything she had suffered. Screaming in holy rage again, she bore over him. Pulling her dagger from his throat and ripping her teeth into the putrid flesh. Blood smeared in the cavern of her mouth. Teeth rending flesh.

The orb flew to her hand, raised high above her head. A deafening beam of power flew to the heavens from it. Shaking the earth below her as she tore away his throat.

As he fell limp, she released him to the Fade as she spat blood. The orb shattered above her in the same breath. Sky shuddered closed. Earth pulverized around her.

Thom's shield came over her body as the castle crumbled around them. Dragging her to a run as it all fell away.

She blinked the dust out of her eyes, coughing through debris in the air. Taking fearful count of her companions. Letting out a deep breath of relief when she found them all whole.

Far into the battlefield, Solas stepped forward. Reaching out a tentative hand as he fell to a kneel.

Vella stared in confusion as she rushed toward him.

"Solas, what are you doing he-"

His gentle cupping of the remnants of the orb paused her. His body leaned in a bow of mourning.

"The orb..." He hushed, shaking his head.

"Solas..." She reached for his shoulder, but he stood. Leaving the pieces to the earth. "I'm so sorry."

She understood the loss of elvhen artifacts. The gouge they left in the already ragged tapestry of their people. But, somehow, this felt beyond that.

He tried to pull from her hand, but she ducked around his front and pulled him into a tight hug.

His breath stilled in his chest, arms held out uncertainly. But they wove around her after a moment. His head tucked into her shoulder.

They stayed entwined there. His hands grasped her back as he pulled away. Eyes swimming in sorrow.

"No matter what comes," He looked down at her. Stepping away with eyes locked on her face. "I want you to know you will always have me."

"Solas, wait-"

"Vella!"

She turned at Thom's frightened call at her absence.

"Here!" She called in return. "I'm here!"

When she turned Solas was gone.

-

Vella stared up at his unfinished fresco, wiping a tear with agitated fingers.

"Hey." Thom's kiss on her shoulder greeted ahead of him.

"Hey." She smiled sadly. Leaning back into his chest as his arms snaked around her waist.

"Men I care about really have a bad habit, huh?" She looked back up at the gouge he had left. "Dissappearing."

"I'm sorry, dove. On both of our accounts."

"I hope he's okay." She sighed. "I just want him happy and safe, no matter what."

Something shuddered inside her chest, drawing her eyes down in shock. Jolting her breath to a still.

"Vella?" Thom came around her front. Searching her with frantic eyes.

"I'm okay, I think." She pressed a hand to her sternum. "It's the ancestors. They just spoke... sorrow? They've never given me only a feeling before."

No, this felt beyond them. Something larger. Full under her heart.

"Solas...?" She whispered, but the feeling fell away again.

"Fucking well..." Thom sighed, shaking his head ruefully at her. "Come on, love. We're almost packed."

"Oh shit, I've still got to say goodbye to everyone!" She paused their stride to take a paintbrush from Solas' desk. Slipping it into her pocket.

"I hate that you're leaving." Josephine sighed. "I mean, I'm happy for you! Happy for you both. But I still hate it."

"I'm going to miss you too." Vella smiled. "And I won't be gone. We'll be in, I'm sure, constant communication as I 'rule' from the sidelines." She curled her fingers at the word. The gold bracelet with an enchanted stone caught the light. "Dorian made us these special afterall."

Josephine slid her matching ring around her finger. "I know. Leliana and Cullen have theirs, too. But it won't be the same. You're such a calming presence. I don't know how many spats you can settle from the Free Marches."

"You'll do great." Vella cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "You'll all do great."

"Where are you going first?" Josephine urged. "I'll have Leliana send scouts to assure your arrival."

"Honestly, I have no idea." Vella smiled brilliantly. "Isn't that great? I'm not leading for once!"

"We're tracking down one of my men on the road towards Ostwick." Thom offered over her shoulder as he came up behind.

"Oooh, I'm good at tracking." She smiled.

"The best." Thom agreed, sliding his hand around her waist. "That's why I hired you."

"I hope I can earn my pay." Vella purred.

"Ugh, enough." Josephine laughed. "Get out, both of you."

Vella pulled her into a hug, and Josephine sighed into her shoulder.

"Call on me if you need me." Vella assured as they separated. Both her and Thom turned. "I'll find my way back, no matter what."

"Wait!"

Sera ran out of the castle door. Leaping into a hug on Thom's chest.

"You're staying! We've talked about this!" He laughed heartily. Hugging her tightly to him.

As Sera blubbered goodbyes into him, Dorian's hand came to Vella's shoulder. Nodding his own tearful goodbye on the road towards Tevinter.

She kissed both of his cheeks and wiped his tears.

"Don't be a stranger." He sighed.

"Never." She chastised. "You can't, either." She held up the bracelet again.

"Right. We're connected now." He sighed in mock weariness.

"Ha-ha! You have to be my friend!" She teased.

"Be safe." He pulled her into a deep hug. "Don't die, okay?"

"Love you." She murmured into his shoulder.

"Love you, too." He warbled. Wiping his eyes again as he pulled away. "Ugh! Go on. Get."

"That's the goodbye I was looking for." She smiled. Hopping up onto Ghilana behind Thom. "Good riddance, all of you."

"Hope your trip is terrible." Josephine laughed.

"Hope Skyhold falls into the canyon!" Vella agreed in a call. Smiling wide at her retreating friends.

She wrapped tight around Thom's waist and leaned her head into his wide back. Letting out a long-held sigh. Finally, moving forward in the quiet of two bodies. The earth awakening with the damp of spring around them.

Despite everything, daffodils had bloomed.

~

~

~

okay this is the end! unless ya'll want some Trespasser chapters 👀 (but I just started it irl, no spoilers!) genuinely thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone following this story with me! mwah! mwah I say!!! ❤️

[idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy]

Hii!! This is my first time ever requesting 😭 but i was wondering if you could do something with earth42 miles and the reader both being the prowler?!! Love the work btw😻

MILES 42 X PARTNER!READER

A/N: Heyyyy I love this idea and thank your for requesting of course I can <3

WARNING: I don't speak Spanish so I will be using google translate, lol. However, if anyone is a translator and can help me out please do!

GUYS I JUST GOT A MESSAGE FROM AN ANON TO TRY THIS NEW WEBSITE SPANISHDICT SO I WILL BE TESTING THIS OUT BUT IM STILL OPEN TO TRANSLATORS!!

BE PREPARED FOR: FLUFFFFF, KISSING, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE, JUST ROMANTICS, AND ANGST, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

BACKSTORY:

You and Miles have been best friends since babies, given both of your parents were good friends.

As yall grew older yall started dating

When his dad died it crushed you almost just as much as it crushed him.

Miles didn't even show up to the funeral. He was in denial that his father was actually gone.

As time passed he would start canceling hangouts and dates because he had to take care of some "business" with his uncle.

He kept doing it so much to the point where you were fed up and took it into your own hands to find out what was going on.

So when school was out you followed him to his destination. Which looked like his garage?...

You ended up finding out this whole time that Miles and his uncle were in this whole "Prowler" scheme together and Miles was instructed to do all these dangerous murders missions by himself.

So you went up to his room and waited for him to come, so you could obviously confront him about it.

And there he is. Jumping through the window. So casually that you know he does it all the time.

" Hi., Miles"

He jumps startled at your unexpected appearance.

"¡Maldita mamá no me asustes así! ¡Y qué estás haciendo aquí!"

"Care to explain why you're jumping through your own window at 3am?" You question already knowing the answer just trying to see what he's gonna come up with.

He gives you that look knowing that you know what he's been up to.

"Bebé, escúchame yo-."

"YOU'RE THE PROWLER? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME SHIT? THE FUCK KINDA BOYFRIEND ARE YOU MILES?" You are now angry, rage immediately taking over you.

"I did it to protect you, this is a dangerous job and I can't have you involved in this. No puedo perderte como lo perdí ma." He states in an almost whispering tone looking down at you.

"But that's the issue. I CAN help you, Miles, you can't keep doing this alone, just let me help you, por favor eres mi corazón y quiero ayudar! You plead to him. Your throat choking back sobs. Tears falling down your face.

He quickly opens his arms wide to trap you in a bear hug.

"Ok ok mami. Deja de llorar está bien. Puedes ayudarme shh está bien

______________________________________________________________

NOW TIME FOR THE ACTUAL HEADCANNONS:

• Even though you guys technically are partners now, he'll make you stay behind on certain missions depending on how dangerous they are. He'll be damned if he lets you get seriously injured.

• He's always patching you up and taking care of you every time you get hurt

"Oww Miles! That one hurt worse than the others"

He chuckles at your pouting

"Lo siento mami tienes una más solo sé una buena chica y respira estarás bien"

• He definitely designs your costume for you, out of your favorite colors and a heart symbol, which represents his love for you (awhhhhh ^-^)

• Kisses before you leave for missions because its a way of saying "I love you"

• If Aaron tries to make you go on a mission and makes Miles stay back he gets angry and flips out, and definitely doesn't do it

"¿Qué quieres decir? ¡Joder, no! ¡Ella no puede estar jodidamente sola, no! ¡No me importa!"

• In conclusion, yall are a great duo!

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 rookanis origin story feat. davrin enjoy 🪶

"Is anyone else hungry? Maybe I should cook something."

Lucanis doesn't even get to finish his sentence before the sound of Rook's rumbling tummy drowns his words out entirely. So that's a yes on the question.

Rook wraps both arms over her belly, her blush even visible on her tan skin in the candlelight.

Davrin says something to her, but Lucanis' mind is already on the food. The dough he'd made in the morning should be good to go; if there's still some lardon left, maybe a firecake.

Rook sits down in the chair next to Davrin, kicks off her sage green friulanes and pulls up her legs to hug her knees as she answers.

"Neve and Harding didn't tell you about our hunt for Solas, then?"

Funny how her voice halts all other thoughts in his mind and makes him hone in on the sound of it, now.

"They don't tell it the way you would."

She hides her shy smile behind her knees.

"I mean, it ended with the elven god of lies in my head. Is that enough to win the 'worst job' contest?"

"You're joining us, then?" Rook nods, then hits her chin on her kneecap so hard it audibly knocks her teeth together. She holds her jaw in both hands like a scraped elbow.

"Fine," Lucanis says, and puts down his coffee cup. "I'll cook something, if Rook's staying."

"Oh, you don't have to cook just because I'm here," Rook mumbles into her fingers. "I was gonna get some fruit and chocolate to melt."

He doesn't tell her his mind about cooking was made up the second she walked through the door.

"It's no trouble. I have some overdue dough sitting around, anyway."

"Can I help?"

"No, no. You sit down. Let me get you some juice." Davrin groans and takes a generous swig of sugar rum straight from the bottle.

Lucanis had forgotten he's even there.

"Gods, you two are gross."

Lucanis can feel Rook's eyes on him as he walks to his dough basket, and knows the way she's relaxing into her seat, hears the playfulness in her voice as she retorts.

"We're not doing anything!" A creak, as someone leans over and plucks some fruit from the platter. The sound of the fabric makes him think it's Rook; satin snagging on woodsplint.

"Exactly. Don't even wanna know what you get up to when you're alone."

"What we're getting up to when we're alone is no business of yours!" Her tone simmers down. "Lucanis, could you pass me the blanket, since you're already up, please?"

"You're sitting on it." Lucanis sets down her quince juice, steadies her with a hand on her elbow as she hovers mid-air and pulls the fabric out from under herself. Davrin groans again and takes another sip of rum.

"Rook," Davrin says, after both of them hover near each other for an amount of time it became awkward even to Lucanis, who needs to share her space like he needs air to breathe. "Antaam. Go."

Rook does that elf thing with her eyes, where she both blinks and flicks her irises back and forth at such an odd pace he can witness both actions frame per frame. She's annoyed with Davrin. When Lucanis returns to his kitchentop, to roll out his dough and spread the cream ferment on it, she settles back into her chair and fidgets with the tassels on her blanket.

"Well, I got off a contract, went back to the Diamond, and passed these unreasonably large Antaam rounding up civilians. Asked them why."

"You asked the Antaam why they rounded up people of the city they occupy?"

Rook sniffs. Lucanis wants to sniff, too, but for him, it's because of the shallots he's chopping up. First Trevisan batch of the year is always so full of oils.

"No. I asked the civilians. We were close to the canal openings, just outside Drowned Treviso, so I figured they were begging for scraps or peddling what little belongings they had left."

"That's a shit reason to arrest somebody," Davrin replies, as though the Wardens have any leverage to judge people's arrests.

"Yeah, but at least it is a reason. Someone somewhere cared enough about - I don't know, reputation or some shit - to pull some half-cocked explanation out of their ass. Even if it's just I never fucked a knife-ear and you're unfortunately the first one I came across." There's a familiar bitterness in her words that makes Lucanis turn from his firecake and look at her.

He's the human heir to the First Talon of the Antivan Crows. He tends to forget the hardships of others - especially elves that aren't under Crow protection.

"But no. Nothing. No reason at all. Girl I asked was hysterical. The Antaam closest to us smacked her so hard she went flying. Broke her nose landing and everything. And then I lost it." Rook laughs, suddenly, glances over at Lucanis, flour on his fingers and holding onto the ovenpaddle.

"Imagine being an Antaam occupying Treviso and not knowing how to deal with Crows. Five Oxmen twice my height in under three minutes. Personal record."

Davrin whistles. Rook carries on without a care. Oh, not an uncomfortable laugh, then. Lucanis returns to shoving the firecakes in the oven.

"Anyway, it turns out - Lucanis, what are you doing? I thought you said snacks, not second dinner."

"Coffee," he replies, shrugging. Some of the water in the kettle spills to the floor. "The residual heat from the oven will make the water boil faster."

"What are you making, anyway?"

When Rook wanders over to the stove, Davrin trails behind her.

"Firecakes. I had some sourdough leftover from the bread. Quick and easy."

"Wicked."

Davrin reaches past Lucanis, grabs the cheap white cooking wine from the shelf and retreats back to the coffee table.

"Rook. What did it turn out?"

"Hmm?" She tears her eyes away from Lucanis' forearms. What is it with her and his forearms? It makes him both relieved and ashamed he hasn't inherited the Dellamortes' extra hairy arms.

"Before you got your eyes stuck on your boytoy like teens in the hay-" Rook scoffs. Lucanis could swear she rolls her ears as well as her eyes. "You said your Losing It turned something out. What was it?"

"Oh." She takes the seasondish and walks back over. She sits back in her seat, but Davrin's no longer in his - he'd moved over, so Rook and himself could sit together.

Lucanis might just get him a good wine next time he goes for groceries.

"Turns out a couple of those folks rounded up by the Antaam were in fact planted by the Talons. They were supposed to figure out where their cells are."

"That sounds like a suicide mission."

"I agree." When Lucanis presents her with a plate of firecake, she spares him a small, grateful smile that somehow outshines the Rivaini sun on polished gold. "Think that I actually said that in front of the other Talons was what got Viago to oust me. Of course I mess up one time and that's when he decides to get a big head about stabbing his own mother."

"He killed his own mother?"

Rook and Lucanis shrug in unison. He knows this without looking over to her because her shrug moves her blanket and with it, the tassels that Spite started chewing on the second she sat back down. Lucanis hopes she won't notice the wet.

"Normal Crow ascension. Also, not the point of the story. Oh, this is good. The dill really puts a spin on it I didn't expect."

"Well," he says. "Most everything's better with dill on it." Her elbow digs in the skin of his forearm. It hurts, just a little, at the wound that never really healed that he doesn't care to cut back open to properly sew it shut.

Despite it being his dominant hand, he can't close cuts with his right to save anyone's life.

Rook smiles and agrees with him all the same.

"So what is the point of the story?" Davrin doesn't stop eating to ask. His S'es get worn down with his biting off his cake slice while talking.

"Hm? Oh, Varric was with those uprounded folks. Tracked me down and recruited me to hunt down his old pal who needs a stern talking-to. Not like I had anything better to do. Or anywhere else to go."

Lucanis turns to look at her. The kettle's wheezing, and his own firecake slices are growing cold, but it doesn't matter.

Not when his question is burning on his mind like that.

"How did that make you his second-in-command?" Rook leans on his shoulder, without a care in the world. Takes another bite and turns to look up at him.

Lucanis finds he doesn't mind her affections in front of others. He finds he doesn't even know why he would care to.

"Fuck if I know. But it turned out all right in the end. I met you, didn't I?"

How could he mind it, if it drives Davrin up the wall like that?

🪶

powered by i don't know how to feed myself ✌️

davrin seems like the kinda guy to do that bts namjoon pissy jawpop thing ⏬️

the jawpop thing i find so incredibly sexy and due to my rona-induced hyperfixation with bts I've had for like a whole entire year that made me adopt the jawpop thing

[~rina]

[fanfoolishness]

Number 10 with your Ingellvar x Lucanis is calling out to my angst fueled mind, please!

You write so beautifully btw 🥰 and your rooks are GORGEOUS

Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this one, it really got rather out of hand!

Prompt: a kiss out of desperation. Liesl Ingellvar isn’t sure what’s real, but Lucanis is there for her. Set very shortly post-game so full spoilers for the ending. Angst and hurt/comfort and feels, 1429 words of them! Enjoy :)

———

What’s Real

Gray mist swirled around her, settling clammy dew on her cheeks and hands. Beads of it slid down to gather at her chin. She wiped it away, unsettled.

Stone rose up out of the mist, half-recognized, messy sketches of the Grand Necropolis yawning before her. But this was not the Grand Necropolis she knew; though it was ever changing, ever mutable, it still always felt familiar in the sweet-musty scent of the grave, the preternatural stillness, the sense of vastness far beyond mortal ken. This place she was in now felt like a tarnished reflection, a pale imitation of what she knew. She traversed the wending trails in cautious confusion, feeling hemmed in. Constrained.

”This isn’t home,” Liesl muttered to herself. “It’s the Fade.”

But if it was the Fade, why did she feel so uneasy? She had long ago mastered herself and her dreams, and hungry spirits held no dominion over her: she knew who she was, and what she was about. There was nothing to fear here.

Except she knew better.

Varric’s voice came behind her, kind and caring, proud and warm. “Hey there, kid.”

”You’re gone now,” she whispered, blinking back sudden tears. “I let you go. I understand everything.”

”You sure about that?”

The fear choked her, made it hard to breathe. She couldn’t be back in Solas’ prison. She’d fought her way through. She’d been called home. But she couldn’t remember how she had escaped — if she had escaped — and cold dread staggered her heart. With a great effort she turned to face him.

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. He stood before her with an easy smile, Bianca on his back, hands on his hips. The mist billowed around him as his smile drooped. “I’m sorry, Rook. We messed up. We tried though, didn’t we? Wish I could write it all down.” He sounded so tired.

Then Varric shifted in the fog, his shape smaller, slighter. Familiar red hair blazed through the mist. Harding gave her a sad look.

“You’re here,” she said. “Gosh, I wish you weren’t. It’s not a nice place to be.”

”Harding, I’m sorry —“

Harding waved a gloved hand at her, shrugging. “You made a choice, and so did I. I knew that this was part of the deal! I think you did, too.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s so chilly here. No one told me it was going to be so cold.”

Liesl dashed away tears with the back of her hand. She wouldn’t cry. This wasn’t real. Was it?

Harding sighed. “I just wish my Ma was going to be all right. With all this, you know?”

“I’ll tell her how brave you were,” Liesl said fiercely.

Harding gave her a sad smile. “But how are you going to do that, Rook, when you’re trapped here?”

No. She had to get out. Had to escape. She turned and ran the other direction, nearly running into another figure.

It was Solas. Not the brash young warrior of the Crossroads, nor the wise tactician speaking into her mind. He was Wisdom made Pride, his eyes cold and sharp and calculating. The Dread Wolf drew nearer and even through the mist, she could see the bruises mottling his face, the mouthful of blood staining his teeth.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Solas said, raising the lyrium dagger. Before she could arm herself or reach for her magic the dagger was beneath her chin, pressing against her pulse. “But the Veil falls now. It must.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I regret you will not see what will become.”

The dagger nicked her throat, and the world went blue, then white.

—

“Rook! Liesl! Wake up!” Hands on her shoulders, a voice in the dark, a shower of violet feathers. She blinked, shaking, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. Lucanis was beside her, candles flickering behind him, Spite’s wings gone once more. She knew this place. It was Varric’s room… no. It was the Lighthouse infirmary.

She scrambled up to a sitting position and stared at Lucanis for a long and terrible moment, her chest heaving. Was this real? Was this the prison? Would Lucanis vanish, just another trick? She clapped a hand to her throat, but there was no wound.

Her head throbbed. She buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed. The cot sank and shifted as Lucanis sat down beside her.

“Oh, Rook, Rook, Rook.” He murmured her name like a prayer, voice raw and cracking, and then his arms were around her. He pulled her in close, holding her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He was warm and solid.

She took a deep breath. He smelled of stale coffee and sweat, elfroot, a hint of injury. Injury. She — she remembered —

“We did it,” she mumbled. “Didn’t we?”

“We did,” Lucanis said softly, lifting his head. He brushed away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes with the pad of his thumb. “We won. But you were hurt. Do you remember?”

The battle with Elgar’nan, a blow to the head, running on sheer willpower. Pleading with Solas with her head pounding, Lucanis holding her steady as the dizziness worsened. A flash of light as the Veil mended and stabilized. The others, some injured, but all alive. It was coming back to her in bits and pieces.

“I remember,” she said. “But I — I thought I —” She shivered, bowing her head. “I thought he’d trapped me again in the Fade. That he was going to tear the Veil down. I saw Solas — and Harding — Varric —“

She raised her head, looking over at the cot that still held Varric’s folded jacket, the shattered remnants of Bianca. He was still gone. It had only been a dream, not an echo, not a spirit, not a trap.

“I’m sorry. They’re gone. But you’re awake now,” Lucanis said. “You’re safe.”

But the fear still lingered. She pulled back from him and he reluctantly released her from the embrace. She turned her gaze from Varric’s bed — no, it had never been his bed — and stared into Lucanis’ worried face, seeing him more clearly now.

A large bruise stained one cheek. There was a bloodied split in his swollen lip. The shadows beneath his reddened eyes were deep and dark, and his hair was tangled, nearly snarled. Clearly he had not left her side since Minrathous or attended to his own injuries.

“Are you all right?” Liesl asked, resting her hand on his chest, against his rumpled waistcoat.

“Told him to rest. Heal. I would guard you. Wouldn’t listen!” Spite growled, a violet aura flickering around Lucanis’ body for an instant.

“He’s stubborn, that’s for sure,” Liesl agreed, almost smiling. Spite laughed.

Lucanis shook his head, the flicker of Spite dissipating once more. “I am fine,” he said. She touched the bruise on his cheek and he winced slightly. “Mostly fine. It’s of little concern. We were all more worried about you. Emmrich and Bellara did what they could, but there were many injured, and supplies were low. This?” He gestured to his face. “Is nothing.”

She nodded, her head aching with the motion, and grimaced. He brushed the hair back from her forehead, peering concernedly at her eyes.

“Rook, you should not be up yet. You must rest,” Lucanis said.

But if she rested, the Fade awaited her. Harding, Varric, they might be there again, the fears and griefs she’d barely had a chance to name before she’d had to return to the fight. She couldn’t face them, not yet.

Not alone.

“Tell me I’m here,” she breathed, desperate to believe him. “Please, Lucanis. Tell me I’m here.”

His dark eyes were too bright, glittering in the candlelight. “Oh, Liesl.” He stroked her hair, her cheek, and drew her into a shaky kiss. “You are here with me, I promise. I love you.”

She kissed him back, sinking against him until they lay entangled on the narrow cot, pressed tightly against each other. She could feel his hands, the rise of his chest, the jut of his hips, the way his legs fit in with hers. The way he fit with her.

“I believe you, Lucanis. I love you.” And she did, in a way that felt realer than real, a rich and deep love unbound by Fade or dream. She could feel him against her, smell the familiar scent of his hair and skin, hear his breathing. She knew he spoke the truth. She breathed deeply, safe in his arms.

I’m here. I’m here.

We’re here.

[bleummie]

Up and Adder

Okay, so the brainworms had a thought, and Viago is just such a good character. Plus, this letter made me cackle when I read it in-game. I love him and Teia together, but couldn’t stop thinking about this idea. Both Rook and Bishop (Rook’s twin) are Elven with the Crow background! Can’t decide if I want to write more on this or not yet!

_________________________________________

Rook was a little shocked by the fact she’d found a letter adorned with the seal of the Antivan crows upon waking, tapping her fingers on the teacup clutched in her hand. With a raised eyebrow and a look of recognition, Lucanis fell into step behind her, halting just short enough to feel the body heat radiating off her back. 

He clutched his coffee cup tighter, giving Rook a sympathetic look. His nose scrunched at the smell of her tea, but he made no effort to move away as he tried to read the letter over her shoulder. 

Upon first inspection, there was a note in a different handwriting from the rest, scrawled messily in the top margin. 

“Rook, if you don’t mind getting this letter to your sister, that would be appreciated. I found this crumpled up beside the waste bin in 

Vi’s office and thought it was too good not to send.

-Teia”

Rook snorted in amusement at that, before sipping on her tea some more, earning her a disgusted noise from Lucanis. She shot him a playful glare before continuing to read the letter. 

The date reads six months ago- six months into Rook and Bishop’s not-so-subtle leave of absence from the Crows. While Rook remained pissed at Bishop for impulsive ‘plan’ that led to the rescue gone wrong that got them sent away from home with Varric, she couldn’t deny that what they did was worth it. 

With a sigh at the memory (and her sisters impulsive antics), she continues reading the letter. 

“Idiot: 

I hope you're reading this. If the trail really has led you to Tevinter, it'll be harder to get messages through. The Antaam in Antiva are prickly about anything to do with our neighboring kingdom. Back home, things have cooled, but they are not forgotten. Killing all those Antaam may have felt righteous in the moment, but the Talons are still complaining that your actions ruined weeks of setting up a larger, more effective strike. 

I am one of the Talons still complaining. Consider this trip with Varric a contract. Crows don't fail contracts, especially Crows from House de Riva who may need to improve their judgment. But there is more at stake than honor. Whatever this "Solas" is up to needs to be stopped. I've seen enough of his handiwork to know that.

Don't get careless out there. Don't fail. And don't get yourself killed, or I will come after you in the Fade myself.

-Viago”

Rook couldn’t stop the chuckle that tore from her throat at the passive aggressive unsent letter addressed to her sister. She turned to Lucanis to show him the letter as well, watching his face closely as it contorted into an amused smirk. 

“Something juicy?” Neve asks as she saunters over to the kitchen table with her own cup of coffee. 

“Just a funny letter addressed to my sister.” Rook replies, holding out the letter with a small chuckle. With a raised eyebrow, Neve takes it, scanning over the note amusedly. 

“This Viago seems awfully concerned.” Neve chuckles with a knowing smirk. 

“That’s seriously what you took from that?” Lucanis asks incredulously with a shake of his head. 

“Bishop’s always had a way of getting under Viago’s skin. It’s quite entertaining actually. But Teia’s always ranted about how whenever Bishop isn’t there he gets more pissy than usual. I’m not sure that’s possible though, considering when she is there, she drives him up the wall.” Rook admits. 

As if on cue, looking absolutely disheveled, Bishop sauntered into the dining hall, very obviously having just woken up. Mindlessly, the elf shuffles over to the coffee, and dispenses some for herself, stretching in the process. Alert, her eyes dart over to the group gathered around the table. 

“What’s this?” Bishop points to the letter in Rook’s hand. 

With a slight chuckle, and poorly contained laughter from the rest of the group, Bishop takes the letter suspiciously. 

As she reads the first couple lines of Viago’s scrawl, Bishop lets out a loud cackle, which only becomes louder as she reads the rest of the note. 

“Yikes.” Is the only response from the elf as she carefully folds the letter, giving away the fact that her defiant and unbothered attitude she presented wasn’t exactly the truth. Gingerly, she tucks the letter into her pants pocket and finishes adding cream and sugar to her coffee. This earns a couple raised eyebrows and a knowing look from Neve, but Bishop ignores it for now, as she walks off with her coffee. 

“How long have your sister and him been involved?” Neve asks pointedly. 

Rook raises an eyebrow curiously, and Lucanis stifles a chuckle. “They aren’t? What?” 

“You sure? Wasn’t he the one that immediately went on a rant directed at your sister when we went to inquire about hiring Lucanis? Which, I’ll remind you, was pretty much the second your sister set foot out of the eluvian at the Diamond.” Neve says with a chuckle. 

“Yeah. He was. But that’s just how they always are.” Rook replies

“I remember that. They bickered like an old married couple.” Harding interjects, obviously having listened in to the earlier discussion. This causes a raised eyebrow from Lucanis. 

“Your sister back talks the Talon of house de Riva, and gets away with it? Seriously, that’s-“ He asks. 

“Yeah, but she’s also one of the only people dumb enough to do so.” Rook interrupts. 

“I think he’s fond of her. And I’ve only got one interaction and this letter to base it off of.” Neve adds with a smirk. 

“But him and Teia-“ 

“Are together for a week before splitting for months on end. Then repeating the process.”  Lucanis adds thoughtfully, as if he’s piecing together the possibility of Viago feeling something for Rook’s somehow more chaotic twin. 

“Next time you see the two of them, just watch.” Neve says as she pats her now mortified friend on the shoulder. 

Lucanis gives Rook a sympathetic smile before placing a kiss to the top of her head, and squeezing her shoulder. 

“Not you too, Lucanis. Please tell me Neve is completely off base with this guess.” In response, Lucanis only quietly presses another kiss to her hair, not answering Rook directly. Rook grumbles, now reanalyzing every single moment she’s ever seen with the Talon of their house and Bishop. 

Rook grimaces at the thought of having to investigate further, but supposes there is no harm in paying closer attention next time they seem to all have business in Treviso. 

Right?

[rosella-writes]

Hap fri!!!! For some Solavellan this week I've got 2 options. "Person A: “You should ask someone else. There’s no happy ending with me.”Person B: “I still want to hear it.” from The Fall prompts, or "every time you walk away you take another piece of me with you." (hear me out. Solas' besotted *dareth shiral* every time you talk to him) from it's all about the yearning

For you! Some sadness >:D for @dadrunkwriting

~~~

Virelan stumbled into the rotunda, all curses and clumsy knees and elbows. She tried not to look at the Fade expert at his desk at the center of the room -- even meeting his eyes felt like accepting a knife between her ribs.

But she longed, and she missed, and she couldn't stay away.

"Inquisitor, it is long past nightfall. I must request that --"

She ignored him and made her meandering way towards the chaise at the edge of the room, shoved awkwardly as it was against the curved wall. She slumped into it and lowered her face into her hands.

"You are drunk, Inquisitor."

"You used to call me vhenan whenever I came in here," she found herself sniffling, mortified at the choked sound of her own voice.

His voice was closer when he spoke again, but still at a respectable distance. She knew he'd have his hands clasped tightly behind his back if she looked up at him. She kept her eye trained on the floor.

"Allow me to call someone to assist you to your chambers. Perhaps Dorian is still awake."

"He was drinking with me. Harding was telling us stories."

"Ah."

"You could help me up."

A sigh. "I cannot, Inquisitor."

Virelan scrubbed her hands over her face. She felt her prosthetic shift in her eye socket as she ground her fist against the scarring there. "Just... talk to me a bit. You're here anyway. I can't sleep."

She felt warmth first, then felt the chaise sag slightly. He was so close that she could've touched him -- but fear that she would spook him away again caught her breath in her throat.

"Tell me of your journeys in the Fade. I miss your stories."

Solas's sigh was so beleaguered that she could feel it waft against her cheek. She kept her one eye clenched shut, but even if she'd been staring at the floor she wouldn't have seen him in her peripheral view. He sat conveniently in her blind spot, just as he always had.

"You should ask someone else," he said, so quietly she found herself leaning closer to hear him. "There is no happy ending with me."

Her heart thudded in her ribcage, threatening with every pulse to break in two. She struggled to speak.

"I still want to hear it," she finally said. "Tell me about the old ruins you explored."

His pause was so long that Virelan began to wonder if he'd slipped away. But the chaise creaked when he shifted slightly, and the warmth of his body came nearer, and he began with a hum and a familiar, almost nostalgic air to his voice.

"I found an ancient dwarven thaig no longer sheltered by the Stone..."

[shouldaspunastory]

For @kiastirling and @dadrunkwriting

Emmrich Volkarin x Tobias Rook (SFW, pre-relationship, perceived one-sided pining) 491 words

-------------------------------------------------

It's quiet in the Lighthouse as Rook pads out into the shared living space on bare and silent feet, anxious dreams stirring them from sleep and spurring them to seek out some of their resident necromancer's homemade tea mixes to calm them. It began as a somewhat spiteful gesture to partake in. They and Solas sharing an accidental connection to one another, it had been amusing forcing Solas to experience things they were doing the ancient elf would have hated. But it's become something else now. A kind of ritual, grounding and soothing in a way Rook's not often known before.

Emmrich prepares the teas with care, the same attention to detail and thoughtfulness he brings to all things. There are teas tailored to each of his companion's various tastes, and several to specific needs or circumstances. A citrus blend for Lucanis, a floral one for Neve, An Elfroot and Lotus for healing from various cuts and poisons, an Elderflower and Crystal Grace for headache and inflammation... Were he not so entirely fascinated and committed to the dead, Emmrich might have made a more than decent run with an apothecary.

It's always better when they can share a kettle, of course, talking about his latest theories or their shared companions' latest antics. Rook can't seem to help but gravitate towards him, and, they realize, as they catch sight of a slumped form snoring softly on a nearby couch, book loosely clasped in one hand that dangles off the sofa, tonight seems to be no different.

Rook smiles fondly, changing course, crossing the room and gently taking the book before it falls from Emmrich's hand, marking the place and setting it down on the table beside them, before turning back to watch him for a moment. He looks so serene in sleep. Not that the necromancer cannot be in waking hours, but Rook isn't bold enough to make such a study of him then, too scared he'll notice, and they'll have made things awkward, or even untenable between them. They’re loathe to wake him, but surely if he sleeps out here all night his body will voice its complaints about it tomorrow. With utmost care the elf decides their course of action, grabbing and draping a blanket from the back of the sofa over him, before swiftly sliding their arms beneath the older man and lifting him up into their arms.

“Good morning,” Emmrich greets Rook cheerfully the following morning. “Ah, Manfred,” the necromancer smiles, beckoning for his skeletal assistant. “You know how much I appreciate you. Time got away from me last night, I’m afraid, but next time you may wake me. You needn’t trouble yourself carrying me to bed. I can’t imagine what a labor that must have been for you. ” Manfred looks puzzled, as much as one without muscles or skin is capable of doing so, at least, while Tobias smiles softly from behind their cup of tea.

[athenasdragon]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @becausedragonage! I will tag @laurelsofhighever and anyone else reading this who may want to join. :)

This is a sneak peak of the next chapter of my ongoing Rookanis fic "Five Times Lucanis Got Some Sleep." The next chapter features the canon romance scene! Here's some fade escape lead-up:

Rook looked back at Varric. In the grey light of Solas’s fade prison, he somehow looked more spectral than she had ever seen him. Tears ran hot down her face, taking her kohl with them and leaving a bitter taste on her lips.

“So how do I get out of here?” she asked, voice cracking. This was the worst she had seen of the fade—silent and colorless and cloying in her lungs. After being presented with image after image of her worst failures of the past months, all she wanted in the world was to lie down somewhere familiar and sleep as long as possible.

Varric smiled. “Listen to your team. Like you always do.”

Suddenly a voice came through the rippling mist at the top of the staircase. “We’ve got something! It’s thinner here!” That was definitely Emmrich, albeit distorted. Rook’s stomach flipped with a queasy sort of hope. Probably another trick. But what if it wasn’t?

 “You’d better be right,” Taash replied, clearer now.

“They’re waiting for you. Just take it one step at a time.” Varric nodded towards the mist.

Rook looked back to him, trying to memorize his features. He wouldn’t be waiting for her in the Lighthouse infirmary this time. Her lip trembled. “Goodbye, Varric. And thank you.”

Then one particular voice made her heart jump into her throat. “Rook!” Lucanis called, the closest sound yet, and she whipped around to look. Maybe it was projection, but she thought she could hear her own desperation reflected in his voice.

“I’m looking forward to seeing how it turns out,” Varric said behind her. “I’d say good luck, but you don’t need it. You already have everything you need.”

Before Rook could reply, vague shapes began to appear in the fog.

“There! A light!” Emmrich exclaimed.

Lucanis again, tensely: “We’ve got something. Get ready.”

Two familiar bangled hands suddenly thrust out of the mist. They grasped for her, groping blindly, and Rook grabbed on as hard as she could. If this was another trick of the fade, it was a convincing one.

“HEAVE!” Taash commanded, and then Rook was yanked headfirst into the thick grey fog.

The first thing she saw was Emmrich’s face, grinning. “There you are!” he exclaimed, embracing her to keep her from falling to the ground. “We found you.”

[unhingedsquidtm]

The Eyes of the Wolf

 When Lavellan goes on a mission to follow Solas' trail, she finds a

       statue of Fen'Harel and leaves a prayer.

See the art here.

          · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Elusive. They'd call the Dread Wolf a cunning trickster, a liar, something to be feared... but the word that Lavellan found herself repeating in the quiet dark of night would be 'Elusive'. It was all she could do to think about the different paths she hadn't taken yet. Who needed counting sheep when figuring out how to save the one she loved from himself was enough to occupy her mind.

It was almost always like he knew where she would be, each and every time. There would be a lead, she'd go to follow it, but it would slip out of her grasp moments before she could find another clue. Informants disappearing, places of interest ransacked before she could get there, trails that would grow cold before she ever knew they were warm. 

Trekking through the Emerald Graves for their latest search, the Inquisitor found herself devoid of her bright attitude. It was already chalking up to be a bad week—they had to find something this time, anything. Solas was out there still, and whether or not he knew it, he needed help. It had been a year since she'd seen him last, and her promise still held true.

He had knelt before her, placed his hand upon her cheek and kissed her, all while saving her life. 

All while breaking her heart.

It seemed almost ironic, the way that the path she and her agents had been taking led her to a familiar sight. There, amidst the trees, lay a single, solitary statue of a white wolf. What was once a beautifully pristine coat, freshly washed from a recent storm, now lay under a sheet of dust and withering leaves. The base of it was coated in a spatter of mud and dirt, with no real disturbance save for the offering bowl.

Stepping closer to it, Lavellan could see that the bowl was not empty. In fact, in it lay a few strips of rotting meat and a few bones. A spark of pure red rage surged through her, erupting in barely-contained static around her fingers. Her staff flared once, twice, and she shook her head. With a flash of white, she sent a wall of pure force toward the display, sending the bowl cascading off the base. Her anger got the better of her, and she cried out, planting the staff directly into the sullen ground beneath her. Her healing magic rooted itself into the earth, snaking into roots and rejuvenating the withered clearing around her. 

The inquisitor wasn't all that certain as to how long she'd knelt there, crying out in frustration, anger, sorrow... all she knew was that once she was done, the statue was tangled with vines of wisteria, almost like a protective embrace. Nature preserving the wolf's honor.

She felt a stocky hand upon her shoulder and heard Varric's words of comfort, but could not process them. With a slow nod, she stood once more and stepped up to the statue. Resting the staff against her other shoulder, she reached for the vine and picked a weave of flowers off. 

"I don't know if you ever felt these," she whispered, eyes trailing up to the gaze she couldn't quite meet anymore. "These prayers. These... offerings. I don't even know if you care about them. You've probably got too much on your hands as it is."

It was only when the drops met the back of her hand that she realized she'd been crying. She wiped the tears away and placed the flower gently upon the base, giving the wolf an offering it deserved. Her hand pressed firmly against the white coat as she spoke, "I don't know if these ever reach you somehow, but if they do... if you can hear this..."

Please come home.

The elf shut her eyes a moment, taking a breath to steady the searing ache in her chest. When she opened her eyes again, that momentary weakness was locked up behind them. She stood taller once more, hair whipping around her in the breeze as she raised her chin up high. "Of course you can't. You're just a fucking statue."

Grinding her jaw, she turned on her heel and marched off, her agents and her friend in tow.

Of course, it would have been easier to get a sign from him, a word, a whisper—anything.

A whole lot easier if she knew that the wolf had indeed been watching.

That he had never even stopped.

[fenharel-babe]

The Unsent Letter

Solas x Lavellan.

Before the ritual happens, a letter is written but never sent. After the ritual, there is a drawer in Raven's room in the Lighthouse that is locked. Not just by a key, but magically locked. She knows she shouldn't be too nosy...but she can't help it. She decides to investigate.

.

There is DATV spoilers! This takes place after Inquisition and Trespasser, before DATV, and during DATV. Hope you enjoy some angsty Solas. This isn't canon for my Rook's story nor is it canon for my Inquisitors story. The Solavellan is, just not this fic lol.

And this is a lot longer than I thought it would be....whoops....

I wanted to tag @emmg and @thessaralka. Take some solavellan angst💙💙. Not much proofreading so whoops if something is wrong...

---------

Everyone had heard the rumors of the relationship between the Dread Wolf and the Inquisitor. Well, ex-Inquisitor, but still the Inquisitor. It was a discussed topic when the Inquisition was still running but it was just as discussed, maybe even more, among the Dread Wolf's own agents! They couldn't truly help it, they may be sneaky assassins, deadly warriors, and meant to gather information...they were also regular people and there was no rule stating they couldn't be curious about Fen'Harel and his lover.

One agent was particularly nosy, and her name was Ellana. She had a right to be nosy, mind you, given that she was the secret spy at Skyhold that spent the most time around the Inquisitor under Fen'Harel's orders himself! He trusted her to keep his secrets and gather information about the Inquisitor and protect her if she needed it. She was always the first to offer herself to travel with the Inquisitor if she needed to travel somewhere, and she was lucky no one questioned it. However, it got a little more difficult to watch over her once she moved to Kirkwall, right into the estate Master Tethras had given her. Each time Ellana went back to report to Fen'Harel, she had little information each time, and he always looked upset, but never said anything about it. He always thanked her and sent her on her way.

And then one day, years after the Inquisition was disbanded, Fen'Harel called Ellana into his office at one of his hideouts with no warning. She was supposed to come back a few days later, but he called her earlier, which he had never done before, but she didn't question it. Ellana left Kirkwall that day and got back to his hideout in the evening, and she immediately knew something was off. Other agents appeared nervous, a few excited though, and it rubbed off on her. She headed to his office and once she was standing in front of his desk, she saw Fen'Harel looking at her...but not him. He was slouched, his eyes tired, a bit red and puffy. This wasn't her boss, but it was.

She gave her report like normal, not letting herself focus too hard on things she shouldn't, and where he usually would've dismissed her, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. "Please, deliver this to the Herald as soon as possible. Make sure she opens it," he orders, his voice rough and tight.

She took the letter and bowed and began to leave, but he stopped her before she could even leave the room. "Wait," he sighed, "give it back. She does not need to be distracted with this." He got the letter back and hid it in one of his drawers. He thanked Ellana and dismissed her like usual, and she left with a polite bow like always.

However, when she turned to shut the door behind her, she swore she saw a tear fall to the desk.

.

.

Raven had only spent a few nights in her room, well, Solas's meditation room in the Lighthouse when one night she found something unusual. She was getting changed out of armor and into her regular loungewear when she noticed a drawer. She tried to open it, but no matter how hard she pulled on it, it didn't open. She searched all around the drawer itself, but didn't actually see any type of key hole, so how could it be locked? She left it alone that night, too tired to fight with the thing.

For the first few weeks after the failed ritual, she was too busy to do anything about it. To be honest, she felt a little guilty about the whole interrupted ritual and how the Evanuris were now roaming the world and ruining it, so she didn't want to pry into Solas's business. That was before he started to be a little annoying and snarky. She decided a little prying wasn't so bad.

She was a mage and could possibly break the spell on the drawer, but she feared that possibly Solas had prepared a trap in case someone tried to open the drawer. "Always one step ahead," she thought to herself at one point.

One night she got Neve, Emmrich, and Bellara to join her in the room, asking all of them to inspect the drawer. She may not have sensed anything, but it didn't mean they wouldn't. Raven herself wasn't too educated on her magic, so she needed some talented people to look at it.

.

"So...do any of you sense anything? Any trap or something that can harm any of us?" Raven asked. She stood beside the wardrobe, fidgeting with her hands while the three magic-talented people investigated.

Emmrich and Neve looked stumped, but Bellara gasped with excitement after a few minutes. "I think I recognize this spell! It was one I had to undo to neutralize an artifact!"

Raven's eyes widened. "Neutralize? So is this like a bomb?"

Bellara gasped and shook her head. "No! It's just an intricate spell meant to hide something in a sense."

Neve huffed a laugh. "Wow, Solas using magic to hide something? Never would've seen that coming."

Raven sighs. "Could you possibly open it? I want to know what's in there."

Emmrich tilted his head. "Should we really go poking into Solas's stuff?"

Raven crossed her arms. "Hey, think about it like this: we're in a place we don't know much about, said place used to house our ally who is somewhat of an enemy, and this ally-slash-enemy is known for lying and hiding pretty big world ending things." She smiled. "Soo...you can see why I want to look, yes?"

Emmrich didn't have much to oppose then.

Bellara moved forward and focused her magic onto it, using her usual veil-jumper abilities to mess with the drawer. It took her a few minutes to undo the spell, it apparently being more intricate than she thought. They all heard a little unlocking noise echo in the room, and Bellara sighed with a hint of exhaustion. "Whew, that was pretty difficult. I guess he really wanted to hide whatever's in the drawer."

Neve placed her hand on Bellara's shoulder, looking at her with some concern. "Are you all right?"

Bellara smiles and nods. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. Just need some water and to sit down." She looked at Raven with unease. "Be careful with whatever's in the drawer, okay?" She then let Neve lead her to the dining hall to get some water, leaving only Emmrich with her.

"I promise to be cautious. Now, let's see what's in here, shall we?" She opened the drawer and saw...an envelope. She picked it up and hummed. "Is that really it?" She searches further back in the drawer with her hand, but feels nothing. "I guess this is it. Strange to hide a letter though."

Emmrich hummed in thought. "Could it be a personal letter? Or something from the past?"

She didn't hear him as she carefully opened the envelope, her curiosity getting the best of her. She pulled out the small letter, and gasped quietly when she read the first word. "Vhenan."

"What?" He asked, the word clearly not in his vocabulary.

She frowned and folded the letter with a sigh. "'Vhenan' means heart in elven. It's like a pet name for a lover, so this is really personal." She put it back in the envelope, a little disappointed at not getting to read some interesting news or secrets about him. "I may be nosy, but I don't want to intrude on his love life." She scrunched up her nose. "Besides, there may be some...filthy words in there that I do not want to see." Plus, if she had written a letter to a lover, she wouldn't want anyone to read it.

She put the envelope back into the drawer and then sighed again. "How about we forget this and just go join dinner? I believe Lucanis is cooking tonight."

She and Emmrich left and headed to the dining hall for dinner. Raven forgot the letter for that night. Until she met with Solas again in the Fade prison, and they had an interesting conversation.

.

Solas stood on his cliff, his arms behind his back and posture straight as always. His voice was a bit softer when he spoke this time. "It took me centuries to build such a bond during my rebellion. And when I served the Inquisition, I tried to avoid entanglements.

At those words, Bloom Lavellan, the Inquisitor she met only a few days ago, appeared in her mind. A woman she knew long before any of this, a woman who loves Solas.

Raven smirked at him. "Except for Inquisitor Lavellan."

He sounded defeated when he spoke next. "I said that I resolved to do so, not that I succeeded." His face showed confliction, his usual emotionless expression replaced with something kin to guilt. "She is a good woman. Growing close to her was...selfish of me."

She asked the first question that instantly came to her mind. "Do you regret it?"

He smiled slightly. "I live with countless regrets." His voice becomes lighter. "Some of them I have grown to cherish more than my victories."

Her curiosity starts to rise. "So you still love her?"

His smile faded and whatever mask he wore slipped back into place. "Our relationship is not up for discussion. Let us focus on the true problems at hand. Such as the Evanuris. How comes your progress?" He asked a question, trying to drive her away from his and the Inquisitor's love life.

She decided to push him just once. "I found a locked drawer in the wardrobe."

His eyes widened for a moment before he calmed himself. "That does not matter right now. And I would prefer you kept out of my personal things."

She bit her lip. "Well...I sorta opened it already." She didn't hold back her giggle when he sighed, like a grandpa getting ready to say, "these kids nowadays". She waved her hands in dismissal. "Don't worry, I didn't read the note inside. Well, I only read the first word, but nothing else!"

"Please leave the letter alone. And let's focus on serious matters."

She sighed annoyed, but listened to him. She put her mind into serious mode, doing her best to not tease him at all. She didn't expect him to go a little soft when talking about Inquisitor Lavellan. She had a feeling that his feelings weren't a lie. Hopefully, anyways.

.

Raven stood in front of the wardrobe, pulling out her armor and staff. She was going to see the Inquisitor for the second time, and she needed to look decent. Before she shut the wardrobe doors, the drawer caught her eyes again. She thought of the letter, how it was addressed to "vhenan", and how Solas said he still cared for the Inquisitor. Her mind connected the dots, realizing the letter was meant for her, but never sent. She opened the drawer quickly and grabbed the envelop, putting it in her pocket gently to not bend or rip it somehow.

She joined Lucanis, Harding, Davrin and Assan in the eluvian hall. Assan greeted her with a chirp, to which she chirped back. She then looked at everyone with the same determination expression she always had before they left. "You ready?" The gang gave their approval and they set off for the Cobbled Swan in Minrathous, ready to meet the Inquisitor the second time.

Raven went in alone, letting the others keep guard at the front, and saw the Inquisitor sitting at a table already. She sat in front of her and smiled awkwardly. The tension between them was still there, and Raven had so many things to say to her, but neither had the time to hash out their feelings. They had to focus on what mattered.

"Tell me what Solas did at Elgar'nan's ritual."

Raven smirked. "Sounds like you already know."

Bloom didn't have the same smile. "I need to hear it from you."

Raven let out a breath and got into the story. "Elgar'nan raised his Archdemon, sent me and my crew into a Fade trap of some sort, Solas and Elgar'nan fought in my head like cats, and somehow Solas helped us escape said trap. We got to save a lot of people," her voice got quieter, "which feels very great."

Bloom did smile that time and tilted her head. "How many names of his do you know? God of lies, Dread Wolf, Fen'Harel. They're titles he earned from enemies, followers, and fractured history." She looked down at the candle between them and her eyes looked distant. "He and I shared another name. 'Vhenan'."

"Your heart. He meant that much?"

She nodded. "Yes, he did. You've spoken to him in your dreams. You've felt the power of that mind. His love could burn against me like a bonfire." Her voice turned softer, less sharp. "He seemed so kind, and wise, and sad, and looked at me as if I somehow mattered more than anything around us." She huffed. "And believe me, there was a lot going on at that time. Too much."

Raven frowns. "It must've been really tough when you learned the truth. That he's Fen'Harel, the enemy in everything the Dalish teach, and is on to destroy the world."

Bloom chuckled. "I stopped believing in what the Dalish taught me when I was young early in my teenage years, so it didn't hurt to learn he was an ancient being." She looked back at the candle. "What really hurt was learning he was going to destroy the world I love so much. The world we saved." Her eyebrows furrowed. "He went on to do his plans after breaking my heart, and left me just enough clues to find him."

Raven looked at her with confusion. "Wait, you think he wanted you to stop him?"

"His name is Solas. It means "pride." Perhaps he couldn't change his mind himself, and hoped that someone else could help him." Her confident expression slowly changed as doubt settled in. "Or...maybe I'm the prideful one. Believing he has such a broken heart so I don't have to face my folly. That I still love someone who made such grave mistakes."

Raven huffs. "You sound like you're almost ready to join him in the Fade prison."

Bloom giggled and shook her head. "Absolutely not. We have to save the world first, and keep it safe." She paused and looked out the window. "After that? I...don't know."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Raven mainly letting Bloom stew in her thoughts. But she broke it with a dismissive wave. "Well, hey, this is all hypothetical right now. We've gotta fix the world before you can ever think of leaving, yeah?"

She looked back at her and smile softly. "Yes, we do." For the first time since they met, Bloom smirked and leaned in closer. "Enough about me, tell me about you and Lucanis."

Raven's eyes widened and there was a subtle pink blush on her cheeks. "W-What? How do you-"

"Morrigan has eyes everywhere, Raven."

She grumbled. "Of course she does." The two talk for a little while longer, mainly filled with Bloom grilling Raven for information about Lucanis and her. But when they realize they've spent too long away from their duties, they stand to leave. "Goodbye, Inquisitor. See you soon," she said softly. She was going to let Bloom leave first, but then she remembered the letter.

"Oh, wait!" Raven called. Somehow she forgot about the letter! She couldn't let her leave without it! She rushed to the back of the Cobbled Swan, where Raven assumed an eluvian must be, or Morrigan was, and stopped Bloom from leaving. "Wait! There's something I have to give you." She reached into her pocket and pulls out the envelope. "I found this in the Lighthouse. I believe it belongs to you--or is supposed to. It's from Solas."

Bloom hesitantly took the envelope and nodded. "Thank you, Raven. I'll see you soon." Her voice was a little tight and she seemed eager to leave, and she did quickly.

.

Morrigan and Bloom stepped out of the eluvian in Skyhold. "I must leave you once again, friend. Will you be well?" Morrigan asked.

Bloom looked over at her and smiled. "Yes, I'll be fine." She sighed and shrugged when Morrigan looked at her with doubt. "I may not be fine, but I will live. I promise." She squeezes her shoulder gently. "Say hi to Kieran for me, if you will."

She chuckled and her face seemed to light up at the mention of her son. "I will, friend." She then stepped back through the eluvian and headed to...only the Maker knew where.

Bloom looked down at the envelope in her hand and her heart beat sounded louder all of a sudden. She hadn't heard from Solas in so long, even in her dreams. He stopped showing up as a wolf about three years ago? She worried he died, but now this catastrophe put that worry to rest. "I know he's alive, trapped, and...wrote me a letter?" She went back to her old quarters in Skyhold, the one that she feared each time she slept in.

She feared she would break down at some point, lose her composure if she focused too hard on the memories in that room. The memories of her and Solas.

She opened the door, climbed up the stairs, and flopped onto the edge of the bed. Her feet and back instantly felt relief at the release of pressure. "Boy, reminds me of the good old days. During the Inquisition, I would rarely get to lounge like this." She shook her head and leaned up. "No. Don't go back there. The Inquisition is gone, yet you remain. Don't focus on that time. Look towards the future." She looked down at the envelope in her hand and sighed. "This is more like looking towards...something."

She undid the envelope and pulled out the letter. She read it quickly, and then again, and again, and again.

"Vhenan, I do not know if you will see these words. My ritual is ready and will soon be set in motion. Perhaps when you read this the world will be as it once was, and you will see why all I did was necessary. I cannot ask your forgiveness, but I hope you come to understand.

That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin... you do not know how close I came to breaking. I could have shared the truth, or even put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas... as I wanted.

I regret the pain I caused you.

What I feel for you will never change."

She stared at the letter for...awhile. For the past few years, her mind and life had been occupied by so many other things. She had her twins, her Cameron, her family in Kirkwall, the people in Kirkwall she had to help, she had Varric! So many people to keep her busy, to keep her sane. She didn't have time to think of Solas, not truly, only about his plans and how to stop him. She didn't have time to think of the man she loved, only time to think about the man he was becoming.

But now she did as she feared, she broke down.

It started out as silent cries, only to slowly turn into sobs. She dropped the letter and buried her face in her hands, and let it all out. All the emotion she buried away years ago to focus on her life, it came back to the surface, and she sobbed.

Among those sobs did she make an oath in her heart to find him. She would help set him free, find him, and confront him. They both had a lot to say, and no paper could do them justice...

.

.

OKAY SO!!! The ending isn't as good as I wanted it to be but I hope y'all enjoyed :))))). I would LOOOOVE any feedback PLEASE! I'm desperate.

[tobythewise]

Back again with another DAtober prompt! Today's prompt is: Echos of the Past featuring M!Lavellan/Solas. This one is post Trespasser, post breakup, Bi Solas, Angsty Bois being Angsty

Blinking his eyes, Lavellan realizes very quickly that he’s in a dream. He rubs at his eyes, adjusting to the idea of being awake in a dream. He’s exhausted, completely run down to the bone, but he can’t give up. He won’t give up. 

Just like every night he finds himself in a dream, he can feel eyes on him, like a crawling feeling at the back of his neck that lets him know he’s not alone. Lavellan looks around, trying to get his bearings. 

He’s in a little meadow, the sun shining down. There’s a pool of water and a forest all around, darkness swirling around the bases of the trees, like it’s trying to reach out and grasp the light from the meadow. 

Lavellan steps into the middle of the meadow, sitting down and lifting his face towards the sun, letting it warm him. 

“I wish you’d just come out,” he calls out, knowing it won’t do anything, it won’t change anything. He still feels compelled to try. He clenches his hand and pain runs through the upper part of his left arm, a phantom pain left behind when Solas took care of the anchor. 

Lavellan lays back in the grass, staring up at the clouds. He wants to be angry, but instead, all he feels is despair. This isn’t fair. None of it is fair. Why did he have to fall for a literal god? Why did he have to let Solas in only to have everything come crumbling down around him? He gave the world everything he had and in return, he got his heart shattered. 

“You’re gathering all the elves but have you forgotten what I am? Why didn’t you ask me? Why haven’t you even given me a chance?”

Warmth floods behind his eyes. He wants to push it away, but he’s tired of keeping it together. Lavellan lets himself cry. The tears stream down the sides of his face, past his ears, down into the grass below him. 

“Please, ma vhenan,” he says softly, barely above a whisper. He’s not expecting a response. They’ve been doing this for so long, keeping each other company during their dreams but always keeping their distance. The longing inside his chest is so strong it might actually break him. 

A shadow covers him and Lavellan opens his eyes. He startles when his eyes meet soft green ones. They’re so achingly familiar. Reaching out, Solas touches his face, wiping his tears away, cleaning his face. 

Lavellan whimpers, leaning into the touch. He never wants this to end. Just maybe, his heart is capable of healing. Maybe mending is possible. 

“Solas,” he says, his chest aching like a strained muscle. “Solas, ma vhennan. Please stay.”

Solas’ face crumbles. The longing in Lavellan’s heart is mirrored on Solas’ face. 

“Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”

“No,” he whispers, his eyes widening at the words. Solas gives him a soft smile and a moment later, Lavellan is waking up in his bed alone.

[jenn0wow]

Rook x Lucanis fic

Lucanis notices Rook (Asay) is touching him more until one drunk night in the Lighthouse leads them to Lucanis’ most intimate moment he’s had in his life.

Literally Lucanis and Rook get drunk with everyone and then they spoon in Rook’s bed and then Rook and Harding kiki about it afterwards!! Merry Christmas!!

Things to note before reading: my rook is a Qunari who is pretty tall, he and Harding are super close like siblings, I made the kitchen an actual room like a big kitchen, and I haven’t finished the game but I think this takes place after Weishaupt and after defeating the two blighted dragons.

——————

It started with Lucanis’s shoulder and a gentle yet strong squeeze. It happened in Rivan after taking down Antaam. A large grey hand patted his shoulder and then squeezed it like it was supposed to mean something. But, Lucanis couldn’t tell what.

Then it was his hair. It had been windy in Arlathan and it had caused Lucanis’s hair to get in his face. As he fussed with it, warm hands pulled it behind his ears, gathering it together to make a tight ponytail. Fingers grazing at the nape of his neck as it gathered loose strands. “I always have extra hair ties for this reason.”

Then it was his thigh. This time it was not a hand, but it was another thigh always pressed against his if they were seated next to each other. Even if Lucanis moved his leg, the other leg somehow found its way to always touch as if they were magnetically attached. It wasn't as forward as the hand, but it felt all the same to Lucanis. It was like he always needed to be touched, lingering closer and closer. Sometimes the thigh was accompanied by an arm behind him on the back of the chair, hanging behind him like a reminder.

This time the arm was drunk and maybe Lucanis was too. Lucanis felt fingers running through his hair lazily, twirling strands absentmindedly. Lucanis wasn’t sure if Asay was aware of what he was doing, but he wasn’t going to stop him.

“So you’re telling me you’ve killed three ogres all by yourself?” Asay was sliding off the couch a bit. “You’re kidding me!”

“Got the scars to prove it.” Davrin rolled his sleeve up and flexed his arm.

“Wow,” Neve said, “Subtle way of showing off the biceps, Mr. Hero.”

Davrin gave a cheeky smile. “Guilty as charged.” He took a swig of his drink. “Tevinter really does have the good stuff.”

Asay took another drink, trying to keep up with Davrin. Everyone, except for Emmerich who said he had work to do in the lab, had piled into the main room of the Lighthouse. Neve snagged a few bottles of liquor from Minrathous, and after the terrible day everyone was having, drinks were in order.

“Rook is positively plastered.” Neve laughed, pointing at his beet red face.

“I’m not really.” Rook fixed his posture in response, and his arm slid down onto the assassin’s shoulder as a consequence. He didn’t move it and Lucanis stiffened his back.

“He's a real lightweight.” Harding giggled. “I remember making him take his first shot two years ago and he fell asleep ten minutes later.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, my eyes were tired,” Asay laughed. “And trust me, I’m not falling asleep right now. Seeing Solas would really kill me right now…”

“Don’t let Lucanis fall asleep either,” Neve commented after taking a sip of her drink. “He’s way too quiet over there and I don’t think we can wrangle Spite like this.”

“Ah, I’m not—“ Lucanis tried to defend himself, but his words caught in his mouth as Asay’s arm dropped behind his back, down to his waist, and pulled Lucanis in close to him.

“Don’t worry, Spite is taking him nowhere.” Asay squeezed him, keeping a tight grip on him.

“I am not falling asleep,” Lucanis managed out. “You do not need to hold onto me.”

“Ah, Rook is also cuddler when he’s drunk,” Harding laughed. “Sorry, Lucanis!”

“I am not,” Rook’s head lazily placed itself on top of Lucanis’. “I’m keeping his body captive so it doesn’t run off from us.”

“I did not think this night would end with me being a prisoner again,” lucanis joked, trying to look like he wasn’t slightly enjoying himself.

Conversation started again amongst the group, but Rook did not budge. As his body relaxed into the larger man’s, Lucanis couldn’t help, but lean into the fantasy that this was normal for them. That they do this all the time. It almost felt natural.

“Lucanis,” Asay whined out, “I’m hungry...”

“Do you want me to make you something?” He replied back. “That would require you to let go.”

Asay groaned. “But you’re so warm…”

“Ugh, I’m so nauseous I can’t even think of eating right now,” Bellara said, “This is why I smoke elfroot instead of drink. Oh! I should grab some the next time I go to arlathan. That would be fun.”

Asay perked up. “Yes! Talk to Elios, he knows where to find good strains.”

Taash looked at both Bellara and Asay with shock. “I didn’t peg you two as smokers.”

“Only recreationally.” Bellara responded. “ Sometimes I just wanna shut my brain up for a little while.”

“There was one year I smoked like everyday,” Asay said, “I thought it would help me not have my episodes, but then if I didn’t smoke I got more anxious that it was the only thing keeping me from blowing up. It was bad, but now I’m good.”

“Elios…” Lucanis said after realizing what Asay had said earlier, “Is that the elf you dated?”

“You dated Elios?” Bellara’s eyes lit up. “The southern point expedition leader?”

“He only got that job because of me.” Asay scoffed. “And you date Irelin which is so crazy!”

Bellara laughed, “I can’t believe we never met before now. We were so close yet so far.” She reached her arm towards him.

Asay reached back, leaning over Lucanis and accidentally pressing his chest into the smaller man’s face.

“So far yet so close…” Asay said, unable to reach Bellara’s hand. He pulled away and then propped himself up on the couch, letting go of Lucanis for a moment. The assassin used this as a perfect time to escape.

“I’m going to grab us some snacks,” he said as he made his way to the kitchen.

Asay caught him by his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I just said the kitchen.” Lucanis replied. Asay looked at him with big glassy eyes. Puppy eyes. “I—I’ll come back.”

“I’ll come with you.” Asay said, heaving himself up from the couch.

“You don’t have to,” Lucanis said.

“Aren’t you still my prisoner?” Asay looked down at him.

Lucanis’ heart skipped a beat as the Qunari looked down a him. “…uh, um, lead the way...”

Asay grabbed his hand and pulled him out towards the dining hall.

“Bring me back some cheese or something, Dellamorte.” Neve yelled as they went out the door. “They aren’t coming back, are they?”

Harding laughed nervously. “They probably aren’t…”

Asay sat on the counter when he got into the kitchen, he laid back, let his head slightly hang off the edge so his horns wouldn’t get in the way. He stretched his back and moaned loudly. “This feels so good,” he had his eyes closed and a satisfied smile on his face.

“You’re making my kitchen all dirty.” Lucanis said as he looked through the cupboards. He grabbed a block of chocolate, one he was going to use for baking, and then pulled a knife out to cut it.

Asay rolled on his side and propped his head up with his arm. “What are you going to do about it?”

Lucanis sauntered up to him, playing with the knife in his hand. He used it under Asay’s chin and lifted his chin up for their eyes to meet. The cold blade of the knife with Lucanis’ sharp eyes was enough to send a shiver through Asay’s body.

“Open up,” Lucanis said.

Asay obeyed and opened his mouth for him. His k-9s were sharper than Lucanis had realized. The assassin dropped a block of chocolate onto Asay’s tongue.

Asay kept his mouth open for a moment, making sure Lucanis saw his tongue toy with the chocolate. He then closed his mouth and cocked a brow. “Mint chocolate.”

“Do you like it?” Lucanis asked, cutting another cube. “I was planning on baking something with it eventually.”

He let it melt on his tongue until it dissolved. “More,” he opened his mouth. “I get very hungry when I’m drunk.”

Lucanis breathed out a laugh. “You get a lot of things while you’re drunk.” He placed another piece of chocolate into his mouth.

Asay laughed as he chewed. “You don’t seem drunk at all. Did you even drink anything?”

“I did, but I was trained to sort of ignore any of the effects of alcohol.” Lucanis said, putting the chocolate away and looking for something new to feed him.

“No, you do. I can tell you’re drunk.” Asay said, “You’re warm. Usually you’re cold.”

Lucanis pulled a box of biscuits from the cupboard and bit his lip to keep away any sort of dorky smile that wanted to spread across his face. “Vanilla Lavender cookies? I forgot I bought them in the market a few weeks ago.” Asay was now laying back on his back, eyes closed. “Don’t fall asleep. I can’t have you falling asleep on the counter.”

“It’s so comfortable though,” Asay said, not opening his eyes. “You said there were cookies?”

“Eat one and then you’re getting up,” Lucanis said, handing him a cookie.

“Hm, two cookies?” Asay said, propping himself up to eat the cookie. “Two cookies for me is like one cookie for you.”

Lucanis rolled his eyes and handed him a second cookie. He then bit into his own. Asay stared at him as he ate.

“Is it bad to be so happy when the world is falling apart?” Asay bit into the second cookie.

“You can’t help your emotions.” Lucanis shrugged. “Just because you are happy doesn’t mean you don’t care about what’s happening.”

Asay smiled and fell on his back on the counter again. “You make me happy.” He muttered, but Lucanis still caught it. The mage then pulled himself back up instantly. “Sorry, no sleeping on the counter.”

Lucanis put the box of cookies away and walked over to Asay. “You make me happy too…” Lucanis said, “I consider you…a good friend…”

“Hm,” Asay slid off the counter. “Friend…Friends don’t feed other friends food from their hands.”

Lucanis’ face went bright red. “No…they do not…” Was this going to be their moment? Was Asay going to confess his feelings? He felt his heart racing in his chest.

Asay’s heavy eyes studied Lucanis’ flustered face. “Hm,”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Asay sighed, his breath smelled of chocolate and lavender cookies. “Take me to my bed, I might fall off the edge and die or something.”

Asay was purposely toying with him and Lucanis felt defenseless to all the flirting, the touching, the compliments. Lucanis knew the man was drunk, but he was just doing what he was already doing sober, just on an exaggerated scale. The assassin didn’t know how to fight it, maybe because he didn’t want to. It would just be nice to know his intention outright instead of all the subtext and playful touching.

They walked back inside the lighthouse to find it eerily silent and empty. Everyone had gone to bed. Lucanis forgot the cheese. He had just remembered.

Rook flop onto his bed face first. He let out a muffled noise into his comforter that Lucanis couldn’t make out.

“The counter was weirdly more comfortable.” He said, turning onto his back.

“Well, you made it back to your room alive and well.” Lucanis said, “I will, uh, see you in the morning.”

“Wait, where are you going?” He called out.

“Asay…” Lucanis groaned out.

“What are you going to do after this?” He asked. “What if you fall asleep and there’s no one to stop Spite from taking you halfway across Thedas and then I never see you again?”

“I won’t fall asleep.” Lucanis said as he tried backing out of the room. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Hm,” Asay said, stretching his arms out on the mattress. “But you’re my prisoner, aren’t you?”

“I am not playing a game with you,” Lucanis rolled his eyes.

“What if I said this was a part of our contract?” Asay smirked. “You have to stay with me tonight.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Catarina would put that in a contract,” Lucanis sarcastically replied. “Asay, you’re being impossible.”

Yet, he still found himself walking towards Asay’s bed, pulled in by his charm.

“What if we just pretend we’re both super drunk and decide how we feel about it in the morning?” Asay looked up at him. “I’m not proposing anything more than me holding onto you. I’ll deal with Spite if you fall asleep. I think he likes me or something.”

Asay still had a rosy hue to his cheeks. Lucanis never felt this way looking down at someone. The only time he’s seen someone sprawled out before him was when his daggers were heavy and dripping in blood. Asay looked beautiful like this.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Asay asked. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“I…you’ve been so kind to me.” Lucanis hung his head, batting away whatever tears were forming. “No one has ever asked to…hold me before.”

“People say I’m pretty good at it.” Asay scooted his body to the other side of the bed and then patted the mattress.

Lucanis stood there, a bit nervous. Should he accept? What did being held even mean? Would this make things weirder between Asay and Lucanis? He found himself fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve..

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Asay laughed. “I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I? Maybe I can just lock the door or hold your hand really tight instead?”

Lucanis didn’t respond and instead sat on the bed and took his shoes off. He slid back slowly towards the pillow, and laid down. It felt like the first time he’s ever laid in a bed before. His back was stiff, he didn’t know what to do with his legs nor his arms. He looked over at Asay, looking for guidance.

“Turn on your side,” Asay said in a hushed tone. “Away from me…”

The assassin did as he said and turned onto his side. A large grey hand grabbed onto his waist and pulled him in close. Asay’s body was warm, but it was a different warm than it was when they were sitting together on the couch. Asay’s large arm wrapped around his body, holding a light weight acrossed Lucanis. He felt small, vulnerable, unguarded. He was sensitive and so aware of every touch, jostle, grazing of their skin. His body shivered under the intimacy. It was all terrifying, but almost thrilling.

The mage adjusted until his head nestled into Lucanis’ shoulder. “Is this okay?” He whispered in his ear. “If you want me to move something or…”

“No, this is good.” Lucanis said. This was nice like one of those weighted blankets full of beans Catarina had laying around her villa, but warmer. There was something nice about feeling Rook’s chest rise up and down with each breath.

“Your heart is racing…” Asay’s breath was hot on his neck.

“Sorry, this is…very new to me.” Lucanis said, “Your’s is racing too.”

“Hm,” Asay brushed his nose against his ear. He wanted to kiss him, but it didn't feel like the right moment to.“I didn’t think you’d actually accept.”

“I—I didn’t think so either…” Lucanis said, looking down at Asay’s hand as his thumb stroked the edge of his belt. He took a breath and released it, trying to settle into Asay’s embrace.

“Do you want to talk or just keep it silent?” Asay asked.

“We can talk.”

Asay nuzzled into his raven hair, smelling him gently. “You smell like…espresso, blackberries, and…burnt wood like the stove.”

“Is that good?” Lucanis asked.

“Mm hm.”

“Your breath smells like chocolate and mint.” Lucanis said back.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He felt Asay shift again, moving his hips away and placing a bit of his leg to separate them a bit. His chest was still against Lucanis’ back.

“Sorry…” Asay whispered.

“For what?” Lucanis asked.

“Um, nothing…” Asay responded. “Your sweater is really soft.”

“I can make you one.”

“Of course you would,” Asay softly chuckled. “I’d love a sweater.”

Lucanis felt his eyes get heavy as he melted further into Asay. He didn’t want to bother Asay with Spite, but he couldn’t help the tired feeling in his eyes. The tiredness didn’t hinder the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Was it fear? Was it guilt? Was it just nerves? It didn’t feel bad.

“Are you still okay?” Asay said, “if you need me to move…”

“No, this is perfect.” Asay could tell he was tired from how quiet his voice was.

“You can fall asleep if you want.”

“But, Spite…”

Asay shushed him and pulled his hand into his own. Lucanis felt tears fall from his eyes onto the pillow. What did he do to deserve Asay’s kindness?

The room was quiet and Asay could feel himself drifting asleep as he listened to the assassin’s slowed breaths. It was nice to see Lucanis so relaxed, but the moment quickly shifted. Asay could feel his body stiffen and his breathing change.

“Need to leave…need to get out…” Lucanis’ body wriggled under Asay’s heavy arm.

“Hi, Spite…”

“Rook…” Spite hissed out.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” the mage tightened his arm around him. “I promised Lucanis.”

“He promised me!” He said, trying to claw at Asay’s arm. “He promised me first.”

Asay wrapped his other arm around him, holding a tight pressure until Spite stopped wriggling. “Can you let him just sleep? Let me hold him…um, hold you.”

“Hold me?” Spite said, pausing for a moment to think. “Rook is very warm…”

“Mmhm,” Asay hummed into his neck. “Do you like it?”

“Yes…” the spirit grumbled. “Lucanis likes it a lot too.”

“I know…” Asay closed his eyes and settled into the nape of Lucanis’ neck.

“He thinks. A lot. About you.”

“Mhm,” Asay said, “I think about him a lot too.”

“We think. You are kind. Too kind.” There was something sweet about Spite. “He never. Let us. Talk.”

“If you like this, we can do this more often.” Asay hugged his chest. “Just you and me.”

“Spite and Rook…” Asay felt Lucanis’ body relax underneath him.

Asay felt a bit smug as he settled further into his bed. It was his first time charming a spirit and somehow he charmed him. Taming demons was easy. Just as easy as it was to tame an assassin…

The mage didn’t realize when he fell asleep. When he woke up, he realized he had a whole dream sequence involving Solas and Felassan arguing over food rations or something silly. Not the worst memory he’s had to witness. He stretched his arms out and groaned. As he stretched, he realized the weight of Lucanis’ body wasn’t next to him.

At first he didn’t panic, but then he remembered Spite. “Oh shit…” He rolled out of bed, trying not to assume the worst.

Asay walked out of his room and into the main room, Emmerich was sitting on the couch with a cup of tea.

“Rook, nice to see you finally awake,” Emmerich commented. “Sounded like you kids had fun last night.”

“Wait, what time is it?” Rook said, realizing how groggy he felt.

“There is no time in the fade, boy.” Emmerich laughed. “But according to your internal clock, probably around noon.”

Asay groaned. “Did you see Spite or, um, Lucanis around?”

“Hm, no, I haven’t.” The older mage said. “Why?”

“Um, uh, no reason.”

“You look panicked.” Emmerich leaned forward in his seat.

“No, nope, I’m good.” Rook hurried out the door. Maybe the caretaker knows something.

“I cannot track the eluvian usage,” the caretaker breathed out. “Do you need any enchantment?”

“No, I’m fine with the enchantment.” Rook put his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Looking for a certain demon of vyrantium?” Neve walked up behind Rook. “He went to Treviso for some business. Told me to tell you. Oh, and there’s breakfast in the ice box.”

Asay sighed, relieved to know where he was, but a bit disappointed he wouldn’t see him until later. “I worried about Spite and um…”

“He seemed fine this morning, no glowing eyes and weird hissing.” Neve said and then a small smile grew on her face. “He actually seemed…happy? Maybe we should get drunk more often…”

She patted his arm, winked at him, and walked towards the lighthouse.

The hangover was catching up with Asay as he processed everything. He grabbed his head as it started to slowly pound. He made his way towards Harding’s room.

“Rook, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” She had made herself tea earlier for her own hangover and handed him a cup.

Asay warmed the tea with his hands, and sat down on some blankets. A headache was settling in his head and the brightness that seeped through Harding’s windows wasn’t helping.

“Would you take at face value that I’m just being very kind and very nice to a man who has had a very bad year?” Asay gave a toothy smile, trying to feign innocence.

Harding was pacing in front of him. This is what she did when she was frustrated.

“Uh huh, uh huh, totally,” she sarcastically said. “If you weren’t totally all over him all night and flirting like crazy! Everyone saw it!”

“I—I was very drunk.” Asay shrugged and took a sip of the tea. “This is really good tea. What’s in it again?”

“Neve and Bellara snuck into the dining hall last night just to check on you, you know.” Harding said. She stood over Rook with her hands on her hips. “I heard you were lying sprawled out on the counter and he was feeding you…chocolates!”

“No! I—wait,” He was remembering. “Okay, well the counter just felt nice on my back. The feeding thing was his idea. I was too drunk to stop him.”

“Asay!” Harding exclaimed in frustration.

“Harding!!” Asay yelled back, “What do you want me to say? Sorry?”

“I’m not trying to shame your choices, Rook,” Harding sighed. “But, Lucanis? He’s like a paid and trained killer and has a demon inside of him and is like thirty five!”

“Okay, but—“ Asay tried to search his brain for a rebuttal. “But, he’s very sweet…” And very handsome…but he knew Harding wasn’t going to sympathize with that. Also Lucanis wasn’t that old. He was only six years older than Asay. Asay could work with that.

“Asay!!” Harding groaned. “We need our heads in the game. We have two gods to take down and eventually a third one. And you’re messing around with a possessed Antivan Crow.”

“I’m not messing around with anyone,” he said. “We’re friends, we were drunk, we got a little flirty in the kitchen. I don’t think that’s going to ruin our plans to save the world.”

“Jeez, Asay…” Harding sat down next to him.

“But…”

“Don’t say But,” Harding shot a look of fear at him. “I’m scared. You’re going to say something so stupid, aren’t you?”

“Okay so we did go back to my room, but—“

“Asay!!” She threw a pillow at him and it hit him on the arm.

“But!! Nothing happened, literally.” Asay said quickly. “I just…held him.” He winced as he waited for Harding to explode.

“Held him?” Harding stared at him like he was stupid. He definitely felt stupid.

“Like spooning? I spooned him.” Asay shrugged, drinking another sip of tea.

“Spooned him?” Harding’s eye was twitching.

“Okay, well I worried about Spite getting out and no one stopping him so if I held him then he couldn’t get away.” Asay realized how crazy that sounded. “I was drunk and didn’t think he’d accept. It seemed like a great plan in the moment.”

“Wow,” Harding couldn’t help but laugh. “And Spite just stayed?”

“I'm very good at spooning.”

“Maybe you can spoon Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain to death…can you spoon a blight out of existence, Asay? Can you spoon Solas to not be evil?” Harding scoffed. “You say what happened was nothing, but I know you…you’re pathetically gay.”

“Okay, says the big fat lesbian sitting next to me,” Asay shoved her and she shoved him back.

“He’s so different from you, though.” Harding said, “I never thought you’d be into him of all people.”

“You don't know him like I do,” Asay flopped back onto her pillows.

“You freaking spooned him.” Harding repeated, still in disbelief. “You’re literally insane.”

“I haven’t talked to him since,” He sighed. “He’s in Treviso probably so weirded out by last night he’s figuring out ways to get out of his contract.”

“I’m never getting you drunk ever again…” Harding laid back next to him. Both of them stared up at the ceiling in silence for a moment until Harding broke it. “Really you spooned him…and you let him feed you?”

“He feeds me all the time.” Asay shrugged.

“And there’s nothing going on between you two?”

“I’ve been trying to send signals, but I’m waiting for him to make that decision.” Asay responded. “He’s never been in a relationship so I’m not going to push him if he isn’t ready.”

Harding scoffed. “You cuddled him in your bed,” she said. “I hope he'd be ready after that.”

Asay sighed and placed his hands on his chest. “I can wait…” And he meant it. Asay wasn’t looking to be in a relationship especially now of all times so if it took a while for Lucanis to figure out what he wants this relationship to be then he’ll wait for him to figure it out. He just hoped the man figured it out before the possible end of the world.