#i do get that picking a ‘personality’ for the inquisitor wouldn’t have worked the way it was set up with hawke so like��� i’m not that mad

[vigilskept]

the ‘he would not fucking say that’ of it all was getting to me in veilguard, so i am once again back in dai. deeply comforting to have sander being awful once again 🫶

[meowsgirldrawing]

Dorian and his elven daughter

Word Count- 2,706

AO3- Link

Masterlist- Link

“Oh, fuck that.”

Dorian laughs, gripping the amulet in his hand tightly. His laugh echoes against the interior of his office, which is big enough to be considered a master bedroom honestly. He hears Bellatrix’s giggles emit from the crystal as his calms. 

“I mean, the guy acts like an indecent asshole-” 

 “Are there any decent ones?”

 “ You would know. ANYWAY-,”

 Dorian bursts into more laughter.

 “then turns around, acting shocked when you give it back to him- mind you, in a civilized manner. Jeez. Tevinter sounds  great. ” She retorts, causing him seconds from wheezing in his chair.

 After a moment, he breaths. He leans back in his chair and chuckles finally evening out. His hand holds against his chin, smiling wryly, “Maybe you can come to the next Imperial sphere, it’ll be grand! We can comment on the man’s attire- scare him into thinking the worst.”

 “  Oh dear! I saw the Inquisitor and Magister Pavus speaking ill, I hope my luscious seat still shines afterward! ” Her voice deepens, the scornful attempt at a Tevinter accent could make his grandparents and father turn in their graves. 

 “I thought you didn’t like your former title though? A change of heart maybe?” He teases.

 “Dor Dor, I’ve had to accept by now that it will follow me to my grave and even afterwards, whether I want it to or not. Might as well get some use of it.” She shrugs in spite of the fact he can’t see it, “Especially against some entitled, fucking wise-ass who tries to insult one of my favorite nieces.”

 “Yes well, you’ll be glad to know that he not only looked like the most miserable, silliest person there, but I saw him practically run out with his tail between his legs soon after.

 She snickers, “Good.”

 “Thankfully, there was no falter in the new arrangements so everyone matter-of-factly expected Briva and I at the next gathering without trouble.”

 A low whistle, “Damn, Dor, look at youuuu! Already some change in the social rank. Metaphorically, of course.”

 He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Tis similar, still have much more work that will last well over a lifetime or two.”

 “Yeah, well- good thing you- wait… FUCK! TURNIP, NO!-” A thud, Bellatrix coughs, and some shuffling.  Dorian pauses, looking down at the crystal in his palm. It flicks from light to off, indicating more to the commotion. He hesitates, “Bella?” He taps it, all the same of knowing it’s alright- just something to check, “Bellatrix? Is everything alright?”

 Soon, the crystal shines bright again with the elf’s voice coming through, albeit, breathless.

“The dog…jumped..on me.” More shuffling, “I think he heard my.. grt- whistling. …This is why I’m a cat person.”

 He breaks into laughter as she huffs, “Are you alright?” 

 “Wouldn’t you like to know, fucker.” She growls, her tone still light.

 “Ass.”

 “Shit-talker.”

He goes to continue their game when he notices Gilmi, one of the head servants of his household, standing nervously by the door, waiting patiently.

“Bella?”

 “Yeah? Is everything alright?” She clearly picked up his change of tone.

 “Not sure. I’ll send back for you once I’m done.”

 “Got it, Dor Dor. Tell Briva her favorite Aunt said hi.”

 He motions for the servant to come in, snickering, “You know she has close to 6 other Aunts, yes?”

 “Un-noted. Take care.”

“You do the same.” The connection cuts and he stashes the amulet carefully back into his desk, giving the servant his full attention.

 “Is something the matter, dear?”

 “Not…exactly sir, Miss Briva is the library. Uhm, something occurred and now she’s scared. Mister Jervah told me to just come get you.”

 The moment Dorian heard the second line, he jerked from his chair, his gut clenched. He doesn’t waste time, quickly thanking the elf before making his way down to the library. The clicking of boots doesn’t help his nerves. They only add to the ever-growing fear, his hands tight, and mind racing at any horror his daughter was frightened of. 

Possibilities flood though. An assassin paid to kidnap or hurt her-  Well, he knows the guards would have stopped and alerted him immediately, but still….  An animal at the window?-  Briva absolutely adores them, she would have been running in, wanting to show him honestly.  A book she shouldn’t have read,  Then again, he holds all of the spell tomes or spell-based ones on a high shelf or locked in his office, safe……STILL-

 Arriving at the doors, he makes haste in opening and coming through.

  All right, time to throw all the previous worries out the window, along with his sanity- specifically the barely hanging nail one from across the room, shattered glass scattered around on on top of the window seal.  One that completes the look of a tornado, fire, and ice-mixed wonderland. 

Books are thrown off shelves, some burned with others frozen in crystal cold. The curtains scorched from the bottom up, continuous crackles hitting his ears.  The floor has puddles of water, as well as short layers of ice in some spots- his foot almost slips but he steadies himself on a half-burned desk near the door. 

 He trudged slowly around the room, tensely looking everywhere with wide, fearful eyes, also casting out swift but small spells to counter the others. All the while, calling out for his little girl. Fear has him caged at this point; with all this mass of destruction, no wonder his little one was terrified. 

“Briva, darling. Papa’s here, I-”

 “Ser Pavus,”

 He turns, presently holding a piece of paper, one that Briva had obviously been working on beforehand. The ink was fresh and oily.

 “Jervah, where’s my daughter?” Maintaining his calm and ever-resounding nature in his voice. In spite of this, the older elf looks upon him with understanding. He motions towards the door across the library. It’s an extra room, made specifically for when he and Briva are focusing on her studies.

 As Dorian crosses the foothold, Jervah speaks up assuringly, “I let the others know to leave you two be. You will need it.” Not understanding this but knowing he will soon, the Magister nods, before returning to his most important.

He casts a minor spell, a light orb that lights up the room. “Briva?...Briva, honey.” His voice is tight, trying his damndest to sound heartening-  despite his own heart currently moving-

 He stops at the shuffling. Moving the orb closer in its direction, he sees a small figure under the middle table- scooting further under it as if to hide from the light. He sighs, relief flooding over him when realization hits. 

 Dorian takes his time, hands behind his back as he sends multiple orbs around corners of the room, lighting it up more until it turns into a soft, light blue hue. Her favorite color.

 “...Briva? Is everything alright, my dearest?”

 She doesn’t respond, concealing her face in her knees, arms wrapped around her tightly. With a kneel, he takes notice of the ice around her fingertips.

 Oh..

 He blinks.

 So that’s what happened….Another wave of relief,  Her powers just manifested. That’s all..

 Now, he speaks up, “Briva, dear, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

 She takes a moment before shaking her head, just barely. “Do you want to come out?”

 Another shake of the head.

 “Alright,” He sits down and tucks his legs under him. His robes fell around him, touching the ice residue and crowding around the two of them. She moves her head up quickly.

 “No!”

 He stops, looking at her.

 She gnaws on her lip. Her eyes were blotchy and red, with tears streaming down her bubbly cheeks as her pointed ears droop slightly. 

  “Y-you’re gonna mess up y-your outfit.”

 Dorian can’t help himself- a short laugh escapes from him. Mae, the loving sport, was always saying how Briva could be his blood by how she acted at times; it’s clear as ever even now. Still chuckling at her confused and worried look, he gently coaxes her out from the table. 

 “Please, it’ll soon be water. It’s fine, I promise.”

 She’s hesitant, bunching her light florid, green dress in her tiny hands. Reluctantly she moves and settles into his lap. Now sensing she wasn’t in trouble, she buried her face into his chest. Unfortunately, she starts tearing up again when his arms wrap around her in a tight, but soft cradle. 

 The patient quietness gets mellowed out as Dorian runs a soothing hand through her curly hair, “Are you alright, my dear?”

 She doesn’t speak but nods. “What about your hands? Are they cold?”

 A pause before another small nod.

 “Here.” With an easy hand, he warms it just enough yet pauses when she flinches. He frowns, concerned. Briva has never been afraid of his magic. Nor Mae’s, Estel’s, or any other of her mage Aunts and Uncles. Curious yes, but never frightened. Only when she sees it in public or from other Magisters in general is when she gets somewhat nervous- that’s when he pulls her closer as to soothe her thoughts. 

  Kaffas- she just discovered herself that she has mage blood and after experiencing something such that is emotionally reeling to most young ones- especially at her age!  Dorian curses inwardly at himself.  The first thing I go and do is use one of the main elements.

 Dorian moves his hand away an inch, “Is this alright, dear?”

She looks up before glancing down at his hand. She gives a small nod and lends her hand back. 

 As the frost disappears from her fingers, Dorian leans his back on the table side. It digs into his upper back, but he pays it no mind. He could care less when his daughter is his main concern at the moment. 

 “What happened?”  Her body stills at the question. 

 “Briva?” 

 “... I-im sorry.. ” Dorian tilts his head, “Whatever for, my dearest?”

 Her hands wipe her eyes, sniffling and whimpering. “I  ruined  the Library. The b-books are ruined! I-i didn't mean to- I was only reading what Mister Jervah gave me and then-,” A small sob escapes her, tearing at his heart. Every urge in his body fights against the instinct to hug her tightly to him, to hide her away from it; as much as he wants to, she needs some room to speak.

“A-and then! -Ice and fire came… I think I h-hurt Mr.Jervah!” Briva cries.

 “Mr.Jervah said he was alright, dear. No need to worry.” He assures, brushing the curly hair from her face. 

 “B–b-but, in the Library! I-” 

 “The books, curtains, and any other affected object there can be replaced. You cannot, however.”

 Briva looks down as her hands fumble in her lap. “..I’m sorry, papa..”

 Dorian smiles, pulling her closer, “Briva, darling.”

 She glances back up. The tears get gently wiped away by him, swiftly pulling down his long sleeve to dry her cheeks. As he does this, he continues, “Dear, you know what happened exactly, yes?”

 She pauses. “I’m like Papa?”

 He chuckles, nodding along, “Yes, you have what many consider, mage blood. You will learn more as you grow, but, “ He adjusts himself, still holding Briva in his lap, “You understand what that means, correct.” He checks.

 “Yes, But,” She bites her cheek, “Isn’t it…dangerous? Aunt Mae said some people think mages are scary.”

 He sighs, “Unfortunately people believe that, of course. It’s just like how many believe your other father is a scary beast all because of his appearance.”

 “But father is nice! He’s not a beast.” 

 “I know that. But it’s an undeserving fact, sadly.”

 She goes quiet again. A less tight grip on her dress, the same one that bundles around her, barely touching the ground underneath her father’s lap. She studies the way to fabric lay, thinking through her next words. Dorian is patient, only humming and brushing through her hair contently.

 She’s hesitant, “ Can I…can I use my magic like yours?” She looks up, “Like how you used it to help Aunt Bellatrix and Estel?” 

 He smiles as she continues, “You said you only use it when the aid for people is needed, you helped people…I wanna do that.”

 “With time and careful studies, indeed. It can be done, my dearest.” 

 It’s almost like she was never crying, never scared- her bright smile grew on her face before she erupted in giggles and hugged him. Like every time, he never hesitates to reciprocate, holding her close as chuckles leave him.

After leading her out of the study, Dorian and Briva find Jervah standing near the entrance of the Library. His grin matches Dorian's, as he greets Briva, who runs up to him with a worry in her brow. “Mister Jervah! Are you alright?”

 The older man chuckles, kneeling down, “I am alright, madam. No need to worry.” She gives a shy smile and hugs him.

 As Briva talks with Jervah, Dorian’s happiness starts to dwindle. Slowly and awfully as new anxiety kicks in.  She’s a mage.  His hidden gaze ponders over his daughter, who’s giggling as Jervah holds her up.

  An elven mage….In Tevinter .

 She’s going to have many troubles try and run through her. People are going to look upon her as nothing other than a unique piece for a stealer’s collection, or an unwanted soon enemy.  People will want to hurt her..  His darling little girl.  The dear one that his husband, Fuliz, saved close to 6 years ago.

 Well….He perks up, “Briva?”

 She looks over, smiling, “Yes, Papa?”

 “Would you like to go with Miss Gilmi and get cleaned up? Papa and Jervah will take care of things here.”

 She tilts her head, “Surely I can at least gather the saved books?”

  Oh bless her , he instead shakes his head but keeps his smile plastered, “I’m quite sure, my dearest.” Leaning down, he welcomes her quick hug, placing a kiss on her head, “Run along now, we’ll be fine.”

 With a nod and a small grin, she does so. Grabbing onto Gilmi’s outreached hand, she waves as the two leave. 

 He waves back, waiting for them to be completely out of view before he speaks in a quiet but firm tone, “Jervah, for now on: please notify the guards and staff to keep an extra eye on all entrances, no matter the circumstances. And if anything happens that concerns Briva or strange behavior from staff, tell me immediately.”

 “Of course, sir.” Jervah bows, and makes his way out. Dorian turns, hands behind his back as he casts out spells. As chairs and tables float back to positions, the curtains being pulled down for replacement, and frost being melted and dried away, he stands near the window. His eyes ogle at the gate that guards his home.

  He once felt shame and dishonor for who he was, for where he was from, for his decisions on who to love and be around.  He feels his jaw clench,  no matter what, he will make absolutely sure Briva will not ever feel the same still lingering feeling he feels now. 

 While his fears from before have just become stilling nightmares and comments he can now brush off without a blink, 

 While he now has a wonderful and sweet husband waiting to come visit him and their girl in between mercenary missions, 

 While he has multiple friends all over Thedas that wouldn’t think twice to help him when heeded- 

 The judgment and disdain from his peers continue like an endorsed flame. People look upon him and send assassins of words or people in their wake, in their distaste. People fight to stop his coming dent in their country, and all would turn towards his little girl when she joins his side. All for her pointed ears and now magic. 

 Well…he smirks lightly, spinning back to the room and out the door.

They best send their biggest armies at him and his own growing power, cause the Fade will have to destroy itself before he allows any of them to even step a foot near her.

  She is his daughter, no matter the blood. As long as he lives and breathes, she doesn’t have to be afraid. Never like he once was.

[contreparry]

'patting the other’s head' for the pairing of your choice? happy friday!

Absolutely! Here’s some Sera x Dagna for @dadrunkwriting !

She was a tactile sort of person, which Dagna understood and appreciated. She was like that as well. Much easier to get a grasp of a thing when you could hold it in your hands and fiddle around to see what made it work. She wouldn’t be half the scholar she was if she was only confined to books and observation. She needed to touch in order to know. That she had Sera had that in common was a comfort.

But Dagna had to confess she wasn’t quite used to Sera’s companionship yet. The woman would drop in at the oddest of hours for a chat. Not that Dagna wanted complain, of course, because she was always happy to see Sera and it wasn’t like she kept a reasonable schedule herself. But Sera would clamber in through a window or slip in through the door and pounce like a kitten, ruffling her hair and kissing her all over her face before darting around her workroom to see whatever new experiment she was cooking up. And Sera got into everything, picking up ancient artifacts and dangerous alchemical solutions and turning them around in her clever hands as she peppered Dagna with rapid fire questions: Where’s it from? What does it do? Funny little thing, innit?

And this was something Dagna loved about Sera: she might act indifferent and incurious, but she had a thirst for knowledge that rivaled her own. She was just a little more reserved about it. Dagna longed to ask her why, but she had a feeling (a tiny, wriggling little thing) that Sera would bolt if she asked too soon. No, best to keep that question in reserve until Sera was ready to answer it. Instead Dagna watched Sera hold up a vial of quicksilver up to the sunlight and swirl the contents around.

“Been askin’ Inky about this quicksilver stuff, since she’s an alchemist an all-“ Sera said slowly. “Well, botanist and herbalist, but she said somethin’ ‘bout having to be good at your alchemy to be good at herbalism.” Her eyes were fixed on the quicksilver like a magpie staring at her collection of treasures.

“Magical fields of study do tend to intersect, or so I’m told,” Dagna replied. It wasn’t a surprise that the Inquisitor was skilled in alchemy, considering how she utterly dominated the herbalist work area when she was in Skyhold. Dagna mourned the fact that a fellow scholar had to take to the battlefield so often. The work they could have accomplished had they lived in more peaceful times- but thinking of what might have been wasn’t very useful, and besides! If things hadn’t been as they were Dagna might never have met Sera, and that was a terrible thought!

“Right! So I was thinking, she told me ‘bout quicksilver and the fumes it lets out. And how they can make the fumes give off a bright light if you run some electricity through it,” Sera explained, and she held up the tube. “Maybe make it a tougher bottle, make sure the lightning magic stuff doesn’t blow it all up, but with it all worked out-“ Sera waved the vial of quicksilver in the air excitedly. This, Dagna thought as a smile overtook her face, was why she loved being around Sera. Sera was curious and clever, and she was utterly fearless. She had a thought and she’d say it, and then work out the way to achieve her goal. It was refreshing- and very, very attractive, Dagna acknowledged as Sera lithely hopped off the windowsill to strut about the room, quicksilver vial in hand.

“Light! Good for your readin’, Widdle, and maybe if we make it REAL bright-“

“You’re not planning to blind people with it, are you? Might blind yourself in the process,” Dagna cautioned, but visions of lamps that ran without oil and a candle-less future danced in her eyes. Now, to find a proper energy source…

“I don’t plan for shite, you know that,” Sera declared. “But might be fun. Do an experiment an’ all that.” She wandered over to Dagna and patted her head, tangling her fingers into Dagna’s curly hair. Dagna leaned back into Sera until the back of her head was pressed into Sera’s stomach.

“Between the two of us we can figure something out,” Dagna promised. “Though we might set a few things on fire during the process.”

“Ooo, fun! Let’s give Commander Uptight something to really complain about, hmmm?” Sera cackled, and she pressed a kiss to Dagna’s forehead before darting away towards the box of scrap parts, vial of quicksilver still in hand.

[imdoingaokay]

May I ask for DAI romance companions reaction to their lover making them a LOVELY piece of artwork for them??

Also if you wouldn't mind, Solas’ reaction as well?

Solas will always be included in the romanced companion dai lineup unless stated otherwise, so don’t you worry my dear anon. And so will Varric because I might as well do what Bioware was too much of a coward to do.

Sorry I've been gone for so long, I've been kept busy with nursing school. Good news, I passed my first semester! Woohoo! I'm hoping to get some more stuff out before I go back to school, wish me luck lol!

A rarely seen, but rumored skill that the Inquisitor had was art. Perhaps being raised the way they were, they got exposed to it and just had a knack for painting, more specifically, painting portraits.

If The Inquisitor’s friends were to glance at the leatherbound notebook they kept so tightly to their person, they would see multiple sketches of landscapes, animals, and the people The Inquisitor came across on their journeys. However, The Inquisitor kept this notebook tucked away in their bag or their jacket when they traveled, so it was seldom seen… almost.

One day, during a somewhat slow day of pomp and circumstance, the lover of the Inquisitor just so happened to come across the notebook… unprotected.

The pair had been taking some time away from stuffy nobles and constant threats to enjoy each other’s presence, except, when a messenger came by, claiming that Leliana had a report for the Inquisitor and the Inquisitor alone, they simply got up and left. Not before leaving a kiss on the cheek of their lover. The Inquisitor’s lover knew it was an invasion of privacy, but, it was the Inquisitor’s fault for keeping it there. So, curiosity bubbling over, the lover peered over to see what had the Inquisitor so fascinated moments before.

It was a sketch of them, of their face. A waist-up portrait of them.

Blackwall/Thom Rainer: Rainer couldn’t help but break out into a smile, he had been working so hard on the little griffon he had been making that he hardly noticed how furrowed his brow must’ve looked. His finger lingered on the subtle details spread across the page, some details so small he wouldn’t have noticed had he not picked up the piece of art and studied it closer.

Cassandra: Cassandra hadn’t even thought of the whole invasion of privacy, in a split second, she grabbed the notebook and stared at the Inquisitor’s work. The book she had been reading was long forgotten. And it had all but dematerialized when she saw the sketch of herself. She could feel a blush slowly creep up her cheeks until she was certain her entire face was red. At the slightest noise, she shoved the notebook back to its original spot, only to quickly pick it back up and inspect her lover’s handiwork.

Cullen Rutherford: He took the longest to finally look, pondering whether or not he would invade his lover’s privacy by taking the shortest peek.

He breaks, of course, less than a minute after he begins his internal debate.

He hurriedly flips through the pages and finds their most recent work, and his breath hitches. 

He traces the beautiful sketch and finds himself mirroring the facial expression The Inquisitor caught him in. He can’t help but get lost in the drawings his Inquisitor has created. Still, every time a soldier walks in, it breaks him from any immersion he had, resulting in an innocent soldier watching the Commander fumble with a notebook.

The first time it happens, Cullen decides against looking again, placing it back in its original place.

Dorian Pavus: The second the Inquisitor was out of sight, Dorian casually grabbed and flipped through the pages of his lover’s notebook happily before stopping, the last page was a sketch of him. He pauses for a moment before a cheeky grin spreads across his face. He inspects every stroke, line, and scribble that decorates the page for what feels like ages. And if someone were to walk by, he doesn’t put it away, a part of him wanting to get caught by his lover. Eventually, he hears his amatus’ voice from far away, and after some deliberation, he decides to return the notebook to its rightful place, positioning it to look untouched.

Iron Bull: He’s subtle, his fingers trace the sketch so gently he can barely feel the paper underneath. He hides the book well behind his large hands and smiles to himself as he traces the image with his eyes. He’s impressed with The Inquisitor’s knowledge of anatomy, as every muscle Bull has appeared to be on display in the portrait. 

He’s one of the only ones who keep the notebook in their grasp, watching his kadan tense up and begin to blush.

“If you wanted me to pose, you could’ve just asked me.” He smiles.

Josephine Montilyet: She takes a minute, and assures the Inquisitor is far enough away before she peaks at the sketchbook. A blush creeps up her face before she’s giggling and kicking her feet as she looks at her lover’s drawing. She’s convinced they took a few artistic liberties as she believes she looks far better in the picture than she does in real life.

Regardless, she becomes satisfied, places the sketchbook back down, and settles back in her chair, reinvigorated.

Sera: She’s immediate, completely snatching up the book before The Inquisitor even leaves, if her lover notices Sera, she attempts to hold it away, claiming they were asking for it when they left it out in the open. She does everything to get away, including climbing on the roof. But once she realizes what her lover drew, she pauses. 

Eventually, The Inquisitor finds her and watches Sera slowly look up, “You made this? I… I’ve never seen… a drawing of me before.” Before breaking out into a grin, she whispers, “Why would you hide this?! This is great!”

Solas: He looks, finding himself far too curious for his own good. Once he sees his portrait, he smiles and leans back in his chair, admiring the work his vhenan put into the piece. He waits for his lover to return, nonchalantly handing over the sketchbook and kissing his lover’s cheek.

“You should draw more often.” He says, “Or maybe I should draw you.”

Varric Tethras: This man read Hawke’s personal journal, The Inquisitor should’ve expected him to look. 

He takes a peak, which turns into a long stare, as he becomes enraptured by the portrait. Soon, he breaks out into a grin and waits for his lover’s return, holding the sketchbook like a trophy.

“Maybe you should do illustrations for my book from now on.” He suggests.

[imagineyourworld]

Hey there! Could I request g. with Luke Skywalker with an inquisitor reader? Congrats on reaching 100, can't wait to read more of your work!

Hi,

Thank you so much <3

That's a really interesting request, I hope I can do it justice.

Love, Charlie

-------

Luke Skywalker x Genderneutral!Inquisitor!Reader

g. "Sorry doesn't fix everything."

Warnings: Slight age difference (just a couple of years, not specified), kinda self-harm, but not really

-------

You didn't consider yourself anyone special. You were one of many, one of many children orphaned during the end of the Clone Wars or the beginning of the Empire, one of many cadets in the Imperial Academy, one of many singled out on your fifteenth birthday for 'special training'. It wasn't until you turned eighteen and were sent on your first mission, the only one of your squad to ever receive a mission at all, that you realized that maybe there was something special about you, though you only managed to put it in words once none other than Grand Moff Tarkin, the Grand Moff Tarkin, pinned a medal on your chest and congratulated you to your promotion. That's when you realized that you were special, you were one of only a handful of Inquisitors, chosen and trained to rid the galaxy of the few remaining Jedi or those who still had faith in the doomed order, those whose abilities were too dangerous to let them live. You were good at what you did, if not one of the best, and had countless medals to prove it. Maybe that's why your next mission came from very high up, from Darth Vader himself. The day you met the second most powerful man in the galaxy would change your life forever, though whether for better or for worse you would never be able to tell.

-------

Vader had sent you to what had to be the worst planet you have visited so far. Tatooine was nothing but a pile of sand, two burning suns and more criminals and low lives than you cared to count. Though for someone high up in the empire, who received a generous salary, it wasn't too bad. Rent and food were cheaper than other places, so you allowed yourself the rare luxury of renting a small suite in one of the better hotels the planet had to offer. The mission itself was simple, all you had to do was listen to locals and maybe ask a few inconspicuous questions to find out whether there were any Jedi sympathizers left in this corner of the galaxy. That's how you met him, and how your life changed once more. Luke Skywalker quite literally ran into you the first time you visited a place called Tosche station. He was just leaving as you were entering, and since he wasn't paying attention to where he was going and you had no space to move to the side the two of you collided. Luke managed to stay on his feet, but you began to stumble and fall, only to suddenly find yourself in his arms. Wow, that kid has fast reflexes, was the first thing you thought, but once you got a closer look at him you realized that he was no kid, at the most he was a couple of years younger than you, though his out of style clothes and long hair made him appear younger than is actual age. "I am so sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?", he asked, his arms still around you and concern in his eyes. You didn't know what it was, but there was something about him that made you stare just a moment longer, and heat rise up to your cheeks. "I'm fine. But I might feel better if you bought me a drink", you replied. Your keen eyes noticed the blush that crept up his face at your words. His reaction, and the overall lack of young people, let alone attractive young people, on this planet made it obvious that he wasn’t used to flirting, which brought out a strange sense of accomplishment and possessiveness in you.  “Just wait here, I’ll get us something to drink and I know a shady place to sit down”, he told you before disappearing in the crowd. 

-------

True to his word Luke reappeared a moment later and lead you to what seemed to be an abandoned farm a short distance away. That’s where the two of you settled and only when the suns began to set did you get back up. You didn’t remember the last time you have had a conversation like this, talking about everything and nothing. In just one short afternoon you learned more about Luke than you knew about most of your fellow cadets back at the academy. He was an orphan, living with his aunt and uncle on their moisture farm and though the two of them were happy with that life, Luke wanted more, he wanted to see the galaxy, a sentiment you could understand more than he knew. Luke was all of the things the people in your life weren’t; open and honest, sweet and funny, warm as the two suns above and quite good looking on top of it. In retrospect you should have known that it wouldn’t take Luke long to find a place in your heart, and your frequent meetings that followed after your first day together certainly didn’t help.  Luke was your first kiss, only a week after you first met him in the Tatooine desert with gleaming stars and a bright moon above.  He was the first one you told about your past, at least a few basics. You told him that you were an orphan, that your parents had been killed during the last few days of the Clone Wars and that you have been on your own since you were a baby. You told him about the loneliness and fears you usually kept bottled up and your unrealistic dreams for the future.  Luke was the first you slept with, back in your hotel suite, after you had treated him to a dinner nicer than any he has had back on the farm. It wasn’t like what your peers had told you sex was like, it was sweet and passionate and lovely.  And even though you tried your best not to, Luke was the first person you ever fell in love with, the first you cared about, other than the memory of parents you didn’t even remember if you were being honest.  Your relationship with Luke was both the only real thing and the biggest lie in your life. He had told you everything about himself, but you had no choice but to keep lying to him again and again, no matter how much it hurt. Maybe that’s why part of you was glad when, after once again reporting that there was nothing unusual on Tatooine, you were told your mission was over and you should report to the Death Star.  When you told Luke that you’d have to leave the next day he kissed you in his unique sweet way and whispered the three words you have come to cherish against your lips.  “In that case I think I should give this to you now. I had been planning to wait til our one year anniversary next month, but I guess that doesn’t matter now”, he mumbled, speaking more to himself than to you. Before you could ask what he was talking about he pulled a small box out of the messenger back he usually carried with him. Gently he opened the box to reveal the most stunning bracelet you have ever seen.  “It was my mother’s, one of the few things I have of hers. I want you to have it.”  You lifted the bracelet out of  its box, admiring how the stones shone in the soft light of the candles around your suite.  “Luke...”, you said, trying your best not to let your voice break. “I cannot accept this.”  You lowered the bracelet to put it back in the box, but before you could Luke took your hand in his and used his other hand to close your finger on top of it.  “I want you to have it, I really do. To remember me by. Besides, the colour really doesn’t suit me.”  You couldn’t fight the smile that found its way to your lips at his bad joke, neither the tears that appeared in your eyes. It really was time for you to leave this planet, to leave Luke, if you didn’t do it soon you feared you never would.  “Thank you. I won’t take this off, I promise”, you vowed as he gently fastened the bracelet around your wrist and then pressed a soft kiss on your pulse point.  “I love you”, he said with a sad smile.  Only then did it occur to you that he had said it multiple times now, almost every day ever since the first time he had said it almost seven months ago, but never once did you say the words back. Maybe it was fitting that the only time you told him how you felt about him was when saying goodbye.  “I love you too, Luke.” 

-------

Soon after your return to the Empire, and your first visit to the infamous Death Star, did you realize why you had been called back so suddenly. The war against the rebels was picking up pace and the Empire could use all the help it could get.  The next year was busy, you were no longer sent on solo missions but rather trained with the elite forces, taught to fly and shoot instead of fighting with your lightsaber, and then it suddenly stopped.  After the Battle of Yavin the Empire had to regroup, rethink its strategies, and fight a new opponent.  “We have information about an old Jedi temple, you will leave tomorrow and destroy it”, Grand Moff Tarkin informed you in his usual clipped way.  This caught your attention, and for the first time in a while your interest. Hunting Jedi, making sure no children strong with the force would ever find out about their existence and take care of them if they did was what you were trained for, what you often thought you were born to do. Suddenly it dawned on you that the last time you had actually been assigned a mission like this was before Tatooine, before Luke.  “Why me? I don’t mean to question your decision, but there are many older, more skilled Inquisitors.”  Tarkin simply nodded. “I agree. But Lord Vader asked for you specifically. You’re to leave for Dagobah tomorrow at 0700.” 

-------

Your short research told you that Dagobah was basically a slimy mudhole, but upon arrival it seemed even worse than in the pictures on the holonet.   “If that temple is inside one of those swamps I’m not even gonna bother, I’ll just set fire to the whole planet”, you mumbled as you climbed out of your TIE fighter, careful not to get your bracelet caught on the ladder. That had happened once during one of your first flying lessons and it had cost you almost a month’s salary to get it repaired, apparently the medal alone was worth more than you made in a year, from the stones you might even be able to buy a small planet.  The second your feet touched the ground you felt something dripping down from the trees onto your arms, which you could only hope was water.  Luckily, after just a few meters, you stumbled upon a path covered with mostly dry branches and pebbles.  “I thought this planet was supposed to be abandoned, but this looks almost like someone made this path on purpose.”  You kept walking along the path, checking your datapad every now and then to make sure you were headed the right way.  After what felt like half an eternity of walking you finally reached a small hut, which your datapad assured you was right next to the temple, though since you couldn’t see anything other than the hut and a million trees you decided to investigate there first, who knew what you may find.  A familiar buzz ran through your entire body, adrenaline and excitement preparing you for what was to come. With a slight smile on your lips you ignited your lightsaber, partially so you’d be ready for what- or whoever would be waiting for you inside, partially because from where you stood in the doorway you could tell that it was incredibly dark and the added benefit of a lightsaber was the soft glow that helped in situations like this.  Inside the hut was larger than it had seemed on the outside, mostly meaning that there was more than just one room. In fact, there was a long hallway with open doors on both sides leading to different rooms. The first couple of rooms you checked, if they could even be called that, were pretty much overtaken by nature and rotting away. There was nothing that spoke of Jedi, or any other intelligent being, having been there in recent years. It wasn’t until you were closing in on the last rooms that you heard a low noise, followed by a gut feeling that told you that what you were looking for would be in that room. Though since you didn’t know what, or who, exactly would be in there you entered the room with your lightsaber stretched out in front of you, hoping the red sword would make any possible threat stand down before they could try anything while you would remain in the shadowy hallway to glance inside.  The plan seemed to work, since you heard a small gasp from inside the room just a moment before you realized who it had come from.  “Luke?”  “(Y/N)?”  Both your voices were astounded, shocked, and mournful. Of all the people in the galaxy, why did it have to be Luke Skywalker you found here of all places?  “What are you doing here?”, you asked as you slowly entered the room.  It was then that you noticed just how different Luke looked, how much he had changed since you last saw him. His hair was a bit shorter, his skin paler and his eyes darker. And he was wearing an orange flight suit, the outfit was completed by the helmet in his hand, with the familiar rebel symbol on the side.  You turned your lightsaber off before fastening it to your belt, just in time because only moments later you felt your legs begin to wobble before they gave out underneath you.  Luke, his reflexes fast as ever, quickly pushed a chair in your direction, so you would fall on that instead of the hard floor.  “Luke... Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”  You didn’t know what made you plead, hated the hurt and fear in your voice, but how could Luke, your Luke, not only be a rebel but be hiding right were an ancient Jedi temple was supposed to be.  “If you’re asking whether I’m a rebel, the answer is yes”, he said after a moment of silence. “But judging by that red saber that’s not the only thing you’re asking.”  Luke astonished you by sitting down on the small bed you only just noticed, one of the few pieces of furniture in the small room. How could he be so calm?  “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a... what do you call yourselves again? Inquisitors?”  You couldn’t help the inappropriate laugh that escaped your lips.  “Yes, Inquisitors. Also known as the only people stopping the Jedi from destroying the galaxy as we know it.”  Luke simply looked at you, an expression on his face you’ve never seen. He seemed to be beyond angry, though there was no denying the sadness in his eyes.  “Is that what you believe? That the Jedi, the few Jedi you and those like you haven’t slaughtered, are trying to destroy the galaxy?”  Not knowing what made you do it you sat down next to Luke, though you did your best to put some distance between you on the small bed.  “Luke, I know this might be hard to hear, I know some people, rebels and Jedi alike, probably told you more lies than either of us can count, but the Jedi are bad. They once controlled the galaxy, did you know that? And they used that control to gain riches and live comfortably while others suffered. They were selfish and deceiving and cruel and Emperor Palpatine was the only one who could stop them. You know that, don’t you?”, you asked. Of course Luke had to know that, know the truth. You spoke to him in a soft voice, careful not to burst his bubble too sudden, to give him time to adjust and acknowledge what deep down you were sure he had to know.  “Is that what they told you? What they made you believe so you would go around killing innocent children, scared old fugitives and all those trying to live normal lives after a genocide? Wake up, (Y/N)! It’s not the Jedi that are bad, it’s the Empire.”  Luke reached out to take your hand and for reasons unknown to you, you let him.  “The Empire raised you, didn't it?”, he asked.  To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You’ve never really told Luke anything about your past, you weren’t even sure whether you told him that you were an orphan, but certainly not what your childhood had been like.  “How did you know?”  He moved closer to you before he answered, reached for your face to lay a hand on your cheek. The sadness in his eyes was even more obvious now, so much so that it took over his entire face.  “There’s no other explanation. If you had known life outside the Empire, if even just for a moment, you would know just how false everything you just said is.”  You shook your head. Though doubt began to creep in on you, the bigger part of your brain knew that Luke must be trying one of his Jedi tricks on you. But as soon as that thought appeared you neglected it. This was Luke, your Luke. Sweet and kind and caring, he couldn’t hurt a fly, much less you, no matter how much time has passed. So was what he was saying true? At least partially?  “They told you what they want you to believe, never let you make up your own mind. I know you, (Y/N), I know that deep down, somewhere underneath all those lies you’ve been told, you’re a good person, and that person doesn’t have to heart to be an Inquisitor.”  There was an expression on Luke’s face you knew all too well. Hope.  He squeezed your hand before lifting it up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of it.  “Luke, I... I’m...”, you started, but with how much your lip was quivering you couldn’t finish your sentence.  “It’s alright”, Luke said before pressing another kiss to your hand. “You don’t need to say it, you don’t need to apologize. You know, sorry doesn’t fix everything, but it’s a good start. And if you let me, I can help you. You could start a new life as part of the rebellion, I’m sure they’d be glad to have someone of your expertise.”  As Luke kept talking your head began to spiral. Finally you came to a conclusion, and though you knew it was the right thing, you almost didn’t go through with it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to look Luke in the eyes afterwards.  Slowly you began to loosen your hand from Luke’s grasp and removed his other hand from your cheek.  “I’m not sorry. I’m not gonna say that I am when I’m not. Maybe what I’ve done was wrong, and if that’s the case your rebellion would never accept me, I don’t think I would accept me if what I have done wasn’t for the good of the galaxy, or maybe everything I’ve ever been taught was right and you’re lying to me. Whatever it is, I cannot say that I’m sorry, much less go with you, until I know the truth.”  You took a deep breath and averted your eyes from Luke’s face. You couldn’t bear to look at him right now.  “I know you won’t hurt me, even though you probably should. And I won’t hurt you, even though that’s what I’m here for. I’ll go looking for answers, to see whether I’m the villain you think I am, or the hero I was raised to be.”  As you spoke the last words you got up from the small bed. You could feel Luke’s eyes on you, but knew that if you looked at him, at the face you’ve seen in your dreams ever since you first met, you wouldn’t be able to go through with your plan, instead you’d crumble and fall into his arms, knowing he’d always be there to catch you.  Lucky for you, Luke didn’t say anything, didn’t try to stop you until you were almost out the door.  “I still love you”, he finally said. “Maybe I shouldn’t, knowing what I now know, but I can’t help it.”  Even though every bone in your body was screaming at you to turn around, even though your heart was aching to catch one last glimpse at him, you continued to walk out the door, out the hut and didn’t stop until you reached your TIE.  And just as you were taking off, after you have ripped parts of your clothes and carefully cut yourself with your lightsaber to make it seem as if Luke had bested you in battle, you finally did turn around and looked for Luke among the trees. And though you didn’t see him, something told you that he was there, watching you. It was that feeling that made you whisper the words you should have said to him whenever you had the chance.  “I love you too. And I’m sorry, for everything.” 

-------

I’m so sorry that this took ages, but I hope it was worth the wait. I really loved this idea and though I don’t think I really did it justice I have tried my best. 

[marabrosca]

[REUPLOAD] - What You Seek Will Find You (Cullen x Lavellan)

a commission for @cullenvhenan with her OC immy 

words: 3k

summary: Cullen reflects on his heart's desires, and comes to the one thing he wants the most. (Cullen’s pov fic and his falling in love with Imryll Lavellan)

tags: pining, soft, romance, kissing

warning: contains mentions of racism/colorism but is never directly said to any poc

Read it on AO3

It was uncomfortable to see a chantry half full, Cullen decided. He couldn’t remember a time where he and his family would attend a sermon, and be joined by only a dozen people. The chantry in his youth accommodated with every seat and then some, as many late arrivals would continue to listen to the Revered Mother’s litany whilst standing in the back by the front door. Having the room be so scarce, having so many pews be empty, made the ceremony feel far more serious and intimidating than intended.

It was here that Cullen would be fulfilling his dream of joining the Templar Order, taking his vows and swearing to protect Thedas at the behest of the Andraste Herself. He peered over at the towering statue of the prophet, Her pyre burning brightly but expanding no more light into the room than a few candles. He felt himself shrink into his armor, picking nervously at his embroidered skirt as Andraste’s stone eyes bore into him. It was a dull service he had to admit. A withered old chantry Sister recited the Chant Of Light in an almost monotone voice, pausing every few lines to include the sacred blessings given to those joining the Order.

Cullen had practiced his vows more times than he could count. There were formal promises to make, but they came strictly with a list. When he had been given the list, the scroll lay heavy in his hands. The gold ribbon around it had made it seem as resplendent as the Chantry’s interior, and no less important than the impression it made. Each Templar was to choose their own vows, their own honest promises to the Maker.

Everyone is different, and we are all here for different reasons. But now we join as one, and must do what is expected of us. Therefore, it is the responsibility of one who chooses to walk the path of sacrifice, to pave the road they walk on.

It was something that was repeated to him in the upcoming weeks of the ceremony. There were many ways, as it turned out, to prove one’s faithfulness to the Maker. There was fasting, sacrificing of material goods (not that Templars had many personal items to begin with), excessive prayer, public preaching, and at least ten other things that Cullen could remember. There was only one that gave him pause: chastity, and the detachment to romantic relations, even within marriage. Cullen felt weak for admitting it, but the idea of a future in solitude wasn’t exactly appealing. Not that it was supposed to be. The idea was that a Templar-to-be would set aside personal desire and focus solely on duty, devoting themselves entirely to their service.

But Cullen saw no reason why he couldn’t do both. A part of him, a part he hid from others, was enamored with the idea of marriage. He’d caught himself many times dreaming of the day his soul-mate would enter his life, accepting the promise to live in each other’s hearts. It was indulgent and juvenile, but he wondered if perhaps one day he’d be in chantry taking entirely different vows than the ones he would proclaim that day. As far as Cullen could see, there were no obstacles in finding someone who was Andrastian. They’d have to be, wouldn’t they? Followers of the chantry and the Maker filled every space in Ferelden, and certainly he wouldn’t be traveling far from Kinloch Hold after the ceremony. Frankly, there was no reason to worry.

The young man heard his name and he stood, almost too quickly, and shuffled out of the pew, making his way to the Revered Mother. She looked at him with a kind smile, and he bowed his head in response. The woman’s hand hovered above him, pausing.

“Have you prepared your promises to the Maker, accepting His blessing as a holy child and servant of Andraste?” “Yes.” He replied firmly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

-

Decades had passed since that day, disappearing like a dream interrupted by daylight. At no point would Cullen expect anything he had experienced, or where he was now. Snow crunched under his boots as he surveyed twenty new recruits to the Inquisitor’s forces- the DalishInquisitor – yet they served just as devout to the chantry as he had once been. An uncomfortable, heavy force weighed on him at the thought; a reminder of his skewed mind from the past. It was a part of him he didn’t want to forget, so that he would never become that man again. He didn’t, however, want it to swallow him whole. That part was harder.

Two of the newest recruits, George and Elliott, were sent to fetch a requisition officer that had been surveying the Storm Coast for some time. The men seemed eager, and promising, and gave off an air of charisma that delivered a boost in morale. Soon enough they returned with the aforementioned officer. She was a tall, lanky elf with pale skin and large, striking emerald eyes. Her black hair fell to her mid-back, lips pink and puffy in the cold. Cullen greeted her politely, taking the missives from her hands as she smiled pleasantly at him. The officer followed Cullen to the desk planked beside the staircase extending from the ramparts. He didn’t miss the almost pungent smell of perfume on her, but made no comment. The commander settled the forms into a neat pile, getting ready to turn to his scouts, when he looked up and noticed that she was still standing there. He cleared his throat when she did not have anything to say. “Thank you, Deanna, for going out of your way.”

“No problem at all, Commander.” The elf smiled at him, folding her hands behind her back.

“Ah…was there something else you needed?” Deanna twirled a finger through a lock of hair, her cheeks turning pinker than before.

“Actually, I was wondering if you were busy tonight.” She replied, eyeing the desk quickly before settling her sights on his face. George and Elliott watched the sight, impressed with their Commander’s obliviousness to her body language.

“As it happens, I am very busy tonight,” Cullen answered, turning and handing the papers over to a scout without pause. “There is still much work to be done if Skyhold is to ever be inhabitable. And I fear the most difficult challenges are yet to come. Why? Does something require my attention?” Deanna’s smile sunk to her knees with her shoulders following suit. “Um, no, it was nothing. Thank for your time, Commander.” “And you, as well.” Cullen responded with a nod, watching the elf turn and make her way up the stairs.

-

As busy as the ex-Templar seemed to be, he had set some time aside that evening to have a walk down the ramparts with Inquisitor Imryll. Soon the easy stride had turned to a pause, then to a conversation, then to a kiss. It was clearly unplanned and unexpected- quite the opposite of how Cullen had always carried himself- but there was no doubt in the way Imryll held onto his back and caressed his hair, that she didn’t object to it.

Gossip spread like the Blight within Skyhold regarding the Inquisitor’s supposed “dalliance” with the Commander. A couple of messengers and guards that had been making their way by wasted no time sharing the tale of what they had witnessed, or exaggerating it.

“It was a sweep of passion! He grabbed her and they nearly dipped as if they were dancing!” “I wasn’t that close, so I couldn’t really tell, but Ser Rutherford appeared very harsh with our Lady Inquisitor. Do you think he treats all his women that way?” “She hypnotized him with blood magic, I swear!” The only things the tales had in common was that a kiss was involved, anything else could not be answered, much to the disappointment of the staff who were almost growing bored of the mundane. When the news reached Elliott, he was quick to share what he heard over a drink on the grass with George, who turned his nose up in disgust. “See that, I just don’t get.” “What’s not to get? You don’t know what a kiss is? Do you revolt women that much?” “No, smartass.” George took a swig from his flask before continuing. “I don’t get how someone would, ya know, go for an elf. Does he seem like the type? And that elf on top of it- what’s next, a Qunari?”

Elliott let out a cackling laugh, almost catching his lip between his browning teeth. “Not your type, eh?” “Not anybody’s type.” George tried to adjust himself on the ground, reaffirming his seat in the same spot once the dizziness ceased his actions. “At least you got- at least you got some lookers here, right? Like that one from before…that, uh, Deanna. Them ones with the big eyes and the curves and all- and have you ever seen an elf that was so dark?” “Not before the Inquisitor. Her eyes are black, did you notice? Do you think she’s blind?” “I thought all elves were ivory and lanky and- where did she even come from?” “Somewhere up north.” “Up north, bah.” George, not heeding the warning his body gave him before, took another large gulp. “If you asked me, I’d kiss an ogre any day before I’d even think about kissin’ her. She wouldn’t-”

Before he could finish his ramblings, a pair of hands grabbed them both from behind, lifting them by the collars and onto their feet. George almost vomited, feeling the searing burn shoot up his throat at the assault. Both men turned sharply to be met with the fiery eyes of their Commander. The men could feel their faces turn numb and a pulse beat in the back of their skulls. Elliott dropped his mug without thinking, licking his lips in an attempt to speak.

“Commander-”

“I don’t want to hear another word.” “But-” “Not. One. Word.” Cullen’s teeth stuck out starkly against his reddening face.

The recruits gulped, bugged-eyed as George swayed slightly from the alcohol. Cullen’s gaze locked onto the mug spilling yellow liquid onto the grass. “I see that your night of leisure has given you loose tongues.”

Cullen pondered what kind of punishment should bestow them. Perhaps they were to be bound and brought to the Inquisitor on her throne, and beg at her feet for mercy after confessing their crimes? The idea was enticing, but it was likely the display would embarrass Imryll, and he needn’t put more on her shoulders regarding her reputation. Besides, she hadn’t heard the words herself, so why hurt her feelings? No, that simply wouldn’t do. They needed to learn a lesson…a long-term lesson. Without warning Cullen grabbed them by the collar again and pushed them both face-first into the dirt. “You will clean this mess, and then pack your things. At dawn, you will be deployed to the Hissing Wastes, where you will remain until the hole in the sky is welded shut.” The Hissing Wastes was the most miserable landscape in Thedas Imryll had ventured to that he could think of. It was a constant scorching mass of dry air and sand, flipping the coin completely when all was frozen over at night. Only the most hardened travelers could tolerate its climate. It was a long-lasting punishment for a crime that could permanently scar having landed in Imryll’s ears.

Without another word Cullen turned on his heel and walked back to the fortress, ignoring the groaning coming from behind him. As he moved out of sight, Elliott wobbled down to pick his mug off the ground, and George let go of all the liquid courage in his stomach that had sealed their fates.

-

Days had passed since the new blood of the Inquisition seemingly vanished overnight, but Cullen’s hands still upturned into fists at the memory. He hadn’t been there when they were carted off, but it was reported right before that they wished to beg forgiveness. Cullen dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand and went back to his business like he was the only one in the room. He scowled, eyeing the ground with intensity as not to scream, a look that caught the eye of the curly-haired elf standing across from him. She walked up to him before he could react, kissing the knot between his eyebrows. All at once he melted, tense muscles going loose for a brief moment as he looked up. Her smile was concerned, and he felt his face relaxing as not to worry her further. “Are you alright?” she asked, grazing the back of her fingers along the side of his face, leaving goose bumps in her wake.

“Yes…I’m fine.” He let out a breath, willing himself to calm down. His hand reached up to grasp hers, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. It made them both blush, and Imryll’s fingers curled in his grasp.

“I had been wondering this for a while,” she started, not pulling away from his hold.

“That day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?”

Cullen couldn’t help but let out a laugh, smiling despite the heat in his cheeks. Her tone wasn’t mischievous, merely curious. A part of him advised against telling her; it was unprofessional at the very least to admit that he had wanted his lips on hers not too long after meeting, before Skyhold, even. Despite not being the best of friends at the time, Cullen found himself gravitating towards her, and desired her approval for more than just reasons regarding their duty.

He smiled sheepishly before finally answering her query.

“Longer than I should admit.”

-

Springtime scarcely differed from winter when it came to living on a mountain. Everyone still wore furs up to their noses and the courtyard was rarely full. Merchant deliverers unloaded their cargo as quickly as they could before ducking into the tavern. Orlesian noblewomen paraded their flower-adorned shifts about, calling attention to their “eye to detail”, modeling their appearance after the Skyhold garden. This, in reality, was meant to turn attention away from their unseemly reddening noses each time they needed to lift their mask and cough into a handkerchief.

Despite this -and despite her own hatred for the cold- Imryll could still be found tending to her plants- the ones that would survive the elements. She frowned as she lifted a limp stem with her finger, disappointed she wouldn’t be able to expand her alchemy skills just yet. Vivienne had warned her it was too early to start studying potions that required foliage, but in an effort to impress her, Imryll had tried it anyway. And now she was thinking of a way to dispose of the dead roots without embarrassing herself.

The sound of familiar footsteps behind her turned her attention away from the frozen soil, lifting her mood in an instant. “There you are. I was worried you’d still be out here.” Cullen sighed.

“Oh, yes. I was seeing how things were going,” she replied, gesturing to the frozen soil “Don’t tell Vivienne.” Cullen chuckled and removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch cold out here.” His touched his forehead with hers, watching as she scrunched her nose at the tickle of the wind.

“Walk me back?” Imryll guided them the long way around, entwining her arm with Cullen’s. Halfway there her legs had “gone completely numb from the cold”, and their only solution was to duck into an archway that housed a small stone bench. The elf laid her cheek on the part of his armor still covered by cloth, and sighed as his fingers glided down her arm.

“Feeling better?” “Not yet,” she replied, moving ever closer into his arms. Cullen held her tighter, making the Inquisitor smile. Her soft, round cheek was squished up against his chest, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. The atmosphere was too serene to believe. The moon now overshadowed the sun, leaving the walkway empty aside from them. Imryll gazed out at the greenery that still grew around them. But Cullen’s eyes were transfixed on her. In these escaping moments of peace, he found himself wondering what he would do in the future. If she survived- when she survived the impending battle with Corypheus- what would he do? He had been only a child the last time he lead a normal life, even though nothing for him would be truly normal again. Would she go with him? Would she go back to her clan? His stomach coiled at the thought, as selfish as it was. He wouldn’t blame her for returning to her people when this was all over, but surly he could not join her. The Dalish didn’t welcome humans as passersby, let alone a human lover. What if she left him? Did she not feel as strongly about their relationship as he did? Would she have to choose?

And more importantly, how would he declare the choice he’s made?

He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Despite the hardships and horrors he’s endured, having Imryll walk out of his life would be the breaking point. His gaze solemnly drifted to the bare blackness of the sky, subconsciously tightening his grip on Imryll.  

“Cullen? Is something wrong?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Oh- I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” “No…” the Inquisitor waited for an answer to her question.

“I think we should go back inside. I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable with warm tea in your bed, wouldn’t you say?” Imryll perked up at the thought and reluctantly sat up to stretch.

“Will you be joining me?” Imryll asked over her shoulder, half flirtatiously. “If my lady wishes so.” Cullen responded, chuckling and standing to join her on the walk back to her quarters.

“I do. But is that what you want?”

What I want… Without warning the commander hoisted her up into his arms, leaning his head down to kiss her lips. She let out a yelp before laughing, slapping lightly at his chest as he carried her through the garden. Wind brushed roughly against the pathway flowers, sending a few white petals into the air, catching onto Imryll’s curls. Their white littered the stone, creating an almost snowy effect as he walked. They went unnoticed by Imryll, who was too distracted reaching up to playfully peck at her lover’s chin.

What he wanted…

He knew now more than ever.

-

Imryll had taken some time to teach Cullen threads of Dalish before, but nothing like this.

“Sylaise enaste var aravel…”

The sound of her native tongue caressed his ears. Everything in that moment disappeared except for her; and although he couldn’t understand the words, he felt them in his heart. He wanted her promise to be true, and he trusted that it was.

“I swear unto the Maker and The Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days.”

As the words left his lips, they connected with hers. Perhaps he should have waited until Mother Giselle made the official decree, but he couldn’t wait another moment.

The kiss ended with the faint tickle of Cullen’s breath against her lips. His nose stayed atop hers, soft chestnut eyes barely open beneath his lashes. It was their first kiss as a married couple, a term they could barely comprehend. Cullen sighed blissfully, capturing the moment in his mind down to every detail as the setting sun painted them in golden light, as if the world turned just for them. Imryll’s skin blended with the rays. Her eyes reflected, but were not illuminated by the shine, creating a stark clear surrounding of white around the onyx that seduced him so many times.

Imryll took but a single step before she was whisked off her feet. A surprised yelp quickly turned to giggles as her husband hoisted her into his arms in a true bridal-fashion. Mushy bounced excitedly at Cullen’s feet and wagged his tail, attempting to angle himself so that he could leap up to join Imryll.

“Blasted-get down! I can’t hold the both of you.”

Imryll laughed joyously, taking her lover’s face into her hands.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Cullen smiled down at her.

“Longer than I should admit.”

[johaerys-writes]

Words Are Futile Devices

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Dorian Pavus/David Trevelyan

Summary: 

The last thing Dorian expected when he came to the South was to find love. In fact, he had entirely given up on the notion. Yet, when the gentle, shy and enigmatic Inquisitor Trevelyan came into his life, things started to change.

A (very belated) birthday gift fic for my dear friend @tessa1972 featuring Dorian and her OC David Trevelyan! 

Read here or on AO3!

A full, silver moon hung over the Frostback’s snowy peaks. Skyhold, for once, was quiet.

Dorian leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes between forefinger and thumb. It had been a long day; and an even longer evening, though he had hardly realised where the time had gone. He had spent most of it studying in the library, indexing books and codexes, helping the new apprentices find their way around. They kept streaming into Skyhold from all corners of Ferelden, and sooner or later they all came to him, asking him this and that, about the library and the hold and where everything could be found.

It was troublesome, certainly —Dorian had never sought to become the Skyhold library’s archivist— yet he found himself oddly drawn to the role. It wasn’t too different from what he used to do in the Minrathous library, where throngs of students from the university would follow him around to ask for his help on their research, or his opinion on various manuscripts. He had never admitted it outright, but he’d missed that sort of life; besides, being asked for help was much preferable to being overlooked and sneered at, which had, sadly, been the case for most of his stay in the South.

He tsked softly, letting the book he’d been reading fall closed. That Southerners could hardly appreciate genius even when it hit them straight in the face was no secret to anyone, yet it gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction to see that the tide was shifting, even a little.

The library was thoroughly empty at that hour, and the wick of the oil lamp above his desk was sputtering softly, close to dying out. It was the only sound in the Tower that could be heard, other than the soft cooing of Leliana’s crows overhead. Dorian stood up slowly and lifted his arms over his head, stretched his sore spine. Skyhold’s desk chairs were far less than comfortable, and his back was certainly not thanking him for it.

He was just about to leave when he noticed the bundle of books that he had gathered earlier that day, and left on the plush purple armchair close to the window. His stomach dropped somewhat.

It was Helisma that had informed him that the Inquisitor had been to the library the day before, searching for books on wyverns and dracolisks. He had left before Dorian had even arrived to his desk empty handed and hadn’t said another word to anyone.

When Dorian had teasingly suggested to Helisma that perhaps the poor man had been so confused by her archiving system that he decided never to step foot in a library ever again in his life, the Tranquil had given him one of her blank looks that somehow managed to speak volumes about what she thought of him and his observations.

Dorian sighed. The books were definitely on the heavy side when he picked them up, but he didn’t train every morning for an hour for nothing. He secured them under his arm, and, after putting the oil lamp out, silently walked out of the library.

Every step that took him through the largely quiet throne room, and closer to the Inquisitor’s quarters, made his heart sink deeper, ad deeper into his stomach. By the time he was standing outside his door —a rather plain, wooden one, considering that behind it lay the largest of all rooms in the hold— Dorian thought his heart would slink out of his ribcage and slither into his boots.

He took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” the Inquisitor’s smooth voice sounded from behind the polished wood.

“Good evening, my dear Inquisitor,” Dorian said with a wide smile that little belied his nervousness. If anyone was good at hiding his feelings, then that someone was none other than Dorian Pavus of Minrathous. “Or shall I say good night? It is rather late.”

“That it is.” Inquisitor Trevelyan was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, half hidden behind a high stack of papers and scrolls. A merry fire was going in the hearth, filling the space with warmth and shifting amber light. It caught in the highlights of Trevelyan’s chestnut hair, his soft violet eyes. He seemed more than a little tired, the corners of his eyes tinged with red, but there was a gentle smile on his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dorian stood at the threshold for a moment, admiring the space. Though he had never found himself in the Inquisitor’s quarters before, he had heard lots about it. The rumours did it no justice. It was wide and spacious, if on the colder side, with plush rugs lining the floor and expensive furniture lining its corners. It was rather obvious that Ambassador Josephine had spared no coin when it came to their leader’s accommodations.

Said leader was certainly a more than impressive man. He was tall and broad of shoulder, with impeccable manners and a gentle disposition. He had stood up from his chair at Dorian’s arrival and was gazing at him calmly. He seemed perfectly at ease, if a little uptight, yet Dorian couldn’t help the feeling that the grandeur of his quarters made him seem a little… out of place.

He wasn’t quite sure why the thought made a wave of sympathy rush through him. Perhaps because he deeply understood the sentiment.

“A little birdie told me that you visited the library yesterday in search of books, yet you walked out mysteriously empty handed.” He confidently strolled into the room, setting the heavy bundle of leather bound tomes on the low coffee table before the hearth. “Naturally, I had to make sure that our humble library did not disappoint you. I would take that as a personal affront, you know.”

Trevelyan blinked at him, a lovely blush creeping up his cheeks. It was bright and rosy and warmed up his features, and when a soft, nervous smile graced his lips, Dorian felt the ghost touch of them against his own.

Maker, it felt like a lifetime ago, when Dorian had last touched those lips. In reality, it couldn’t have been longer than a fortnight.

“I am setting out for the Exalted Plains in a week, and one of Leliana’s scouts reported sightings of dracolisks in the Ferns. I wanted to be prepared, should our party come into contact with them. I searched for an hour but I couldn’t find—” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his blush getting a deeper, more vibrant red. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. If I did, I apologise.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, never you mind all that,” Dorian said with laugh and waved his concerns away, though he wouldn’t have minded letting the man go on for a little while longer, just to watch that flush make its way down to his graceful neck, his pretty ears that were hiding underneath lustrous locks of warm brown. “It only took me a few minutes. I couldn’t well leave our precious Inquisitor walk into the wilderness without detailed knowledge of wyvern mating cycles. You know what they say: a thorough education is the best weapon for any situation.”

The Inquisitor laughed, shaking his head softly. “I believe you are quite right. My father used to tell me something of the sort; though I believe he was referring to an education of a different kind.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “I… thank you, Dorian.”

Dorian was momentarily distracted by the sight of those long, slender fingers, the grace of their movements. He suddenly wanted to walk up to him, thread his own fingers through those locks. He could almost remember their smell— lavender and soap, the sweet musk of his skin. He swallowed thickly.

“Whatever for, Inquisitor?” he said with an easy, practiced smile. “It was no bother, I assure you; the whole search was done and over with in a minute.”

“I believe you. Still… you have my thanks. Just for thinking of me.” Trevelyan’s lips widened in that soft, infuriatingly warm smile again, and it was Dorian’s turn to feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It is much appreciated.”

The fire crackling in the hearth and the wind sweeping over the Frostbacks' peaks beyond the wide windows were the only sound for a long moment as they both gazed at each other. It seemed as if they were looking at each other across a great gulf; so near, and yet so far.

It was Dorian that tore his eyes away, as always. He wasn’t quite sure what he would be compelled to do, if he continued to stare into the face he had spent days thinking about, dreaming of, longing for.

“I see you are quite busy,” Dorian said, gesturing towards the high stack of documents on the mahogany desk. “I should probably leave you to it.”

He smiled and bowed his head respectfully, turning to leave. The tail of his silk coat fluttered with the motion, the light of the fire catching amidst the folds of the fabric. If there was something that Dorian was good at, then that was a dramatic entrance, and an even more dramatic departure.

His hand was almost on the door handle, when Trevelyan’s smooth voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

Dorian glanced at him over his shoulder. Trevelyan had left his chair and his desk and was standing before the coffee table. He made a small motion when their eyes met, as if wanting to take another step, get closer to him, yet he didn’t.

“Stay, please.” He smiled at him, just a little awkward, never taking his eyes away from Dorian’s. “My work is far from done, and yet… I would appreciate the company.” He shifted just a bit on his feet, then nodded towards the liquor cabinet at the corner of the room. “I was recently sent some Fereldan whiskey. It is said to be very good. I thought, perhaps… you might like to try it.”

The edges of Trevelyan’s lips quirked ever so slightly upwards, and there was something so earnest and childlike about his smile, about the look in his violet eyes, that Dorian’s heart did a painful little thump.

“Whiskey, you say?” He let his hand drop from the handle and took a step closer. He crossed his arms before his chest, cocking his hips slightly to the side in a confident stance— far more confident than he felt. But what was it that people said? ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’? “However can I refuse, when you ask so nicely and bribe me with fancy drinks? You certainly know the way to a man’s heart, Inquisitor.”

Trevelyan let out a quiet laugh, a deep and mellow sound that warmed Dorian inside out. “I’ll pour you a glass then, shall I? Oh, and please. Just call me David.” He tilted his head to the side, his gaze growing even softer, if that was possible. “All of my friends do.”

Friends. Dorian couldn’t help but wonder whether they were simply friends, or if there would ever be hope for something… more.

“Very well,” he said with a smile and graceful incline of his head. “David.” He watched the man’s straight and broad back as he turned around and moved towards the cabinet. The smell of the whiskey was strong and aromatic when he pulled the cork out of the bottle and prepared to pour it into glasses. Dorian’s voice stopped him. “Actually, I think I may have a better idea.”

David’s eyes were curious when he looked at him over his shoulder, and Dorian had to bite back a grin.

~

“I never pegged you for someone who appreciates the great outdoors,” David said with a curious smile, gazing at the vast expanse of glittering snow, jagged peaks and lakes covered in ice. “Quite the opposite in fact, judging from the last time we were outdoors.”

Dorian chuckled softly, leaning against the stone wall of the battlements. A cold wind was blowing, ruffling the fabric of his robes and combing through David’s hair, but the magical bubble that always surrounded Skyhold did not let much of the chill from the mountains pass through. It was tolerable, even for Dorian, and Maker knew his tolerance for the blasted Southern cold was exceptionally low.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to bring the Inquisitor -David, he reminded himself- to that quiet corner of the keep. It wasn’t too long ago that he had taken to visiting this place when the walls of his room became stifling, bringing with him a cup of wine or brandy, and simply gazing at the stars. He didn’t know why, but it brought him a strange sense of peace.

The fact that it reminded him of the night that David and he had spent together not too long before was an added, if somewhat confusing, benefit. It was an evening not too different from this one, with a crisp wind blowing and the night sky clear above them, the stars reflecting on the glassy surface of Lake Calenhad. David had accompanied him to the dreaded meeting with his father, and on the way back they had camped there, talking and drinking the night away.

Dorian wasn’t going to fool himself by saying that he hadn’t been attracted to the man the very first moment he laid eyes on him. Still, being attracted to a pretty face, and suddenly finding out that the pretty man not only had a heart and a brain, but enough empathy and understanding to sink a small barge, were two entirely different things. David had surprised him in more ways than one— with his kindness and his honesty, with his wry sense of humour and his sweet, childlike smile, with his steadfastness and his quiet, profound care.

Never before had Dorian bared himself like this to anyone. He had expected judgement and scorn, yet had received none. At first, he couldn’t quite believe it. He had kept searching for the catch, the knife hidden amidst the roses, but more time passed and he could find none. Until…

Dorian swallowed thickly as the memory of the kiss they had shared flashed in his memory. David was watching him patiently now, waiting for his answer that had taken a tad too long.

“I’m full of surprises, as you well know,” Dorian said with a teasing smile. He poured some whiskey into the glasses they had taken with them, and offered one to David. “It’s simply a quiet spot I like to visit sometimes. There are few lovely things the South has to offer, and I believe this view is one of them. It’s quite spectacular, is it not?”

“It is,” David replied, accepting the glass. He was standing in a square of crenelated moonlight, half obscured by the shadows, and his eyes seemed bright like lit up stars when they focused on him. “What are the others?”

“What others?” Dorian sipped distractedly on his whiskey.

“The other lovely things that the South has to offer.”

You, Dorian thought instinctively, and he hated how the thought made his heart flip and jump, his insides tie themselves into impossible loops. “Well, this whiskey, for one,” he replied quickly. “And I’m partial to Fereldan cheese. Much preferable to those smelly Orlesian ones. Tevinter doesn’t have much of a tradition in cheese-making. A pity, if you ask me, but my people tend to avoid consuming anything fermented, unless it can get them blind-drunk.”

David laughed, shaking his head, and the sound warmed Dorian inside out. “You don’t know cheese until you’ve tried the Marcher varieties,” he said. His smile was bright and earnest, and lit up his entire face. “Fereldan cheese is great, don’t get me wrong, but it has nothing on Ostwick’s soft blue goat's cheese, trust me.”

“Blue cheese? My goodness, you Southern barbarians have none of the Maker’s fear in you, do you?” Dorian hid his grin behind the rim of his glass as he watched David laugh even more. “I suppose you made it with your own bare hands back in Ostwick? How terribly bucolic of you.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. It’s a yearly tradition in Ostwick, for the children and women of the household to help in the cheese making on Summer’s day, when the cows’ milk is at its richest. My siblings and I used to have the fun of our lives on that day; we could play with the animals in the farm and get our hands and clothes dirty while milking the cows and hauling the buckets of milk to the dairy workshop, and neither our mother or our father were allowed to tell us off. We would eagerly await that day all year.” He took a sip of his whiskey, looking out over the vast expanse of snow below. “There are moments when I miss those simpler times.”

“I can imagine. Your childhood sounds idyllic indeed,” Dorian said softly, his voice mellowed out even more by the nostalgic smile on the other man’s lips. “You’ve never told me about any of your siblings.”

The smile of David’s lips lost some of its nostalgia, but only a little bit. There was fondness and a shadow of sadness in his eyes when he said, “There used to be more of us than there are now.” He took another sip of whiskey, leaning against the battlements. The wind combed through his hair, bringing a lock of chestnut hair before his brow. “Virgil was the eldest. He died quite young from illness. There was nothing we could do. And Sieden...” He stopped and took a slow breath. “I was born a twin. But my brother, Sieden, did not make it through the labor. He was stillborn. My family still celebrates his birthday every year, along with my own, but it’s different from other celebrations in the family. It is a day for silence and contemplation, and for remembering the brief time he was in the world.”

“I’m… very sorry to hear that,” Dorian said quietly, a lump lodging in his throat. “It must have been very hard for you, not to celebrate your birthday like other children did.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” David replied. His gaze still managed to be warm and friendly when he regarded Dorian, despite the mellow sadness in his voice. “We lit candles, and I got lots of gifts, from my parents, my other siblings and my beloved friends. I also got a kiss from my mother, and a hug from my father. But that stopped after—” He tensed just a little, looking away. His brows gathered in an almost imperceptible frown. “It doesn’t really matter now, I suppose.”

Dorian stayed silent for a moment, wondering whether he should urge David to talk or let the silence linger between them. Yet it wasn’t long after that David turned to him again, and a warm light was flickering in his gaze once more. “My family and I have lost much, but not everything. I still have two sisters who I love dearly, Fae and Leah. The first married when she was quite young and moved out of the house, and the other became a lay-sister. I still write to them both, especially Fae. You could say she is the closest to me, despite our age difference. She is quite lovely. I’m sure the two of you will get along perfectly when you meet. She’s rather eager to see you, actually.”

Dorian’s curiosity was piqued. He tilted his head to the side in question. “Your sister knows about me?”

David gave him a wide- eyed stare. “No! Well, yes. I mean—” He paused abruptly, then let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. It could have been a play of the light, but Dorian thought he could see a blush creeping up his cheeks once more. “We write to each other quite often. She always asks me all sorts of questions, about my daily life and the people I’ve met here and… I suppose… I may have told her a few things about you. Just a few, mind you,” he added quickly, seeing the surprised expression on Dorian’s face.

“You… told your sister about me?” Dorian was sure his heart skipped a beat right at that moment. Something bright and warm, something like hope rose to his throat, and then something like dread twisted his stomach. Had he told his sister about him… about them? About their late night talks, their slightly awkward and nervous banter, their… kiss?

That moment flashed in Dorian’s memory once more, and this time it was much harder to brush away than others. He still remembered it, crystal clear: the moment when David had come to find him in the library, the evening after they had returned from Redcliffe. Dorian remembered how the flickering light the candles had caught in the depths of his violet eyes, how his deep and soothing voice had carried in the empty library. He remembered the concern and the warmth in them, the care. And, most of all, he remembered his clean and warm scent in his nostrils as David had drawn closer, the softness of his lips against his own, the strength of his arms around him.

Maker, it had felt like heaven. Tender and gentle and… so brief, that it sent Dorian’s guts twisting again. They had peeled apart soon after, and each had gone their own way. The tension between them had been sizzling ever since, thick enough to cut with a knife every time they so much as looked at each other. Hundreds of times Dorian had thought to pull him close again, to feel his body against his own, but something always held him back.

What if it was just a one-time thing, never to be repeated? What if David didn’t want anything more, what if he’d simply changed his mind?

Dorian leisurely crossed his arms before his chest, hiding his unease behind a wide smile. “So? What have you told your sister about me, pray tell? I hope you’ve mentioned how dashingly gorgeous, impeccably dressed and impressively smart I am, for starters.”

Dorian had only been half-joking when he said that. He hadn’t exactly expected a serious answer, but David’s reply startled him.

“That goes without saying, Dorian,” he said earnestly, his voice firm and unwavering despite his blush that brightened, distinctly visible even in the moonlight now. “Of course I told her all of those things, it’s only the truth. I also told her… that you’re brave and generous and kind. Actually, you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” He smiled awkwardly. “I hope it wasn’t terribly forward of me.”

Dorian stared at him for a long moment, his breath catching in his throat. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything at all, but for the first time, perhaps ever, he was totally speechless.

He took in a shaky breath. “Do you truly believe them?” he asked quietly, holding David’s gaze. He couldn’t take his eyes away, even if he’d wanted to. “All those things you told your sister�� do you believe them?”

“I do.” The other man’s reply was quick and sure, and his eyes met Dorian’s levelly. “There isn’t a moment that I thought otherwise, Dorian. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. You are… special. Special to me.”

If Dorian could stop time right there, he probably would have. If the stars and the planets had ceased their constant motion right at that moment, if the wind had stopped blowing and the moon had continued shining above them, silver and iridescent, Dorian would gladly stay in that moment forever and a day. Just so he could hear the fondness in David’s voice, watch that smile tugging at the edges of his lips when he spoke to him, the affection in his eyes when he looked at him.

Those eyes had always told Dorian so much more than David’s words had. And this time, Dorian understood.

He took a step forward, leaning towards him. The moments before their lips met felt like the leap from an impossible height. David’s breath skimmed Dorian’s skin, warm and spicy with the scent of the whiskey. Soft lips parted beneath his own, and Dorian was falling.

His fingers threaded through silky, chestnut hair, and David’s scent filled his lungs: lavender and herbs, that delicate soap he liked to use. Strong arms came around him, pulling him closer, and Dorian sighed softly, deepening the kiss as he let himself be drawn. He was helpless, utterly helpless when it came to David, melting against him, every one of his thoughts and defences melting away. Their kiss was tender and passionate, soft and just a little bit desperate, and everything he’d ever wanted, everything he'd dreamed.

David pulled slightly back, cupping Dorian’s cheek as he did so. He gazed at Dorian’s face through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips glistening. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing over Dorian’s skin in a tender caress.

His words washed over Dorian like a wave. He leaned against the other man’s chest, linking his wrists behind his neck. His heart was beating giddy and excited, making his head swim, and he could almost feel David’s heart through his clothes, beating in the same rhythm.

“Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative,” Dorian said teasingly, brushing his nose over David’s. "Let's not wait so long next time, yes?"

David laughed gently, the sound reverberating through Dorian where they touched. He leaned in for another kiss, slow and gentle, and this time Dorian really had no more words left.

"I'll make sure not to," David whispered against his lips, hugging him tightly.

[plazmafields]

“You asked to see me?”

Cullen lifted his head from his work to lock eyes with the mage in his doorway. He sighed as he gestured for Dorian to sit.

“Yes. I have a…problem, of my own creation, that I could use some advice on.”

Dorian lowered slowly into the seat across the desk from Cullen, curiously raising an eyebrow. “I’ll see how I can help.”

“Thank you,” Cullen smiled softly before clearing his throat to continue, “There’s…a person who I continue to find catching my eye, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’d really like them to know how I feel, but I don’t think I have the confidence to tell them with words.”

Dorian blinked several times, a bit taken aback that Cullen was so upfront with his ask for romantic help.

“Well,” he began, shifting forward in his seat, crossing one leg over the other, “I am certainly no expert in women—"

“I never said they were a woman.”

Dorian’s mouth still hung open from his comment. He shut it quickly and nodded, silently asking Cullen to continue.

The Commander sighed, running a hand through his groomed curls. “I’ll be honest: I’ve never really…courted anyone before, so we’re essentially starting from scratch here.”

Dorian gave a comforting smile, “That’s perfectly alright. Perhaps a blank slate is best.”

The mage pulled his chair up, resting his elbows on the desk. “Now, you don’t want to come off too strong too soon. So let’s start very basic: what is something almost anyone would like to receive?”

Cullen looked down at his hands, clasped and nervously twiddling. After a moment of thinking he replied tentatively, “Praise?”

Dorian chuckled, “Yes, that’s true, but let’s think most simply. Something superficial, to start. Something physical…?” he guided.

Cullen’s eyes bounced around Dorian’s features for clues. “Gifts?”

Dorian nodded encouragingly, making a rolling motion with his hand to encourage something specific.

“Such as…flowers?” Cullen said it like a question.

“Perfect!” Dorian Tossed his hands up. “Now the next step is easy, what flowers do they like?”

Cullen sighed, rubbing at his scruff, “No idea. And I’m not sure I have the nerve to ask them.”

“Well you wouldn’t want to do that anyway, you want to bring it up casually. Otherwise, they might catch on to what you’re planning.”

Cullen was still looking away, distracted with his own anxiety. Dorian offered a gentle smile and a friendly suggestion. “Why not get a bouquet? A little mix of everything? That way there’s bound to be something they like in there. After all, it’s the thought, not the gift, that matters here.”

Cullen nodded continuously, deep in thought of what to get for his muse. “Yes…a little of everything. That’s…that’s an excellent idea! I’ll go to Orlais, to a florist, pick out the most exotic things they have, the most colorful, most pungent. It’s perfect!”

Dorian couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his lips at Cullen’s excitement.

“Thank you, Dorian. You’ve no idea how much this helps me.”

“Glad to be of service, my friend.” Dorian rose from his seat, gave a friendly bow, and left Cullen to his plans.

__________

As Dorian sat in his little alcove, reading over a new study, the sound of quick and precise footsteps drew closer. Soon, the Inquisitor, ever nimble on her feet, ran into his nook, a massive smile on her face.

“Have you been out today?”

Dorian glanced over the edge of his book. “Not yet, no.”

She bounced on her toes, “So you haven’t seen the garden?”

The mage raised a brow, closing his book with one hand. “Should I?”

The rouge practically squealed as she gestured for Dorian to follow her.

They were in the main hall in no time, Vivienne calling down from her balcony, “It's simply exquisite, darling! Who knew our Commander had such taste?” Varric shrugging as if to say Not me.

Once outside, Dorian had to push through a wall of onlookers, all gawking at the sight before them. The Inquisitor slipped through almost effortlessly, turning to check for Dorian every few seconds.

Finally, they broke through the crowd and Dorian’s jaw nearly dropped. There were flowers everywhere; no patch of dirt in sight. Flowering ivy spiraled up and around the pillars and railings, columns tangled in vines. Each plain tree had been replaced with a flowering fruit tree; one apple, one cherry, one pear, and one orange.

The Inquisitor squeezed his hand to bring him back, saying in a sigh, “Isn’t it beautiful? Like a magic forest!”

Before he could turn to acknowledge her, the red head was already frolicking like a school girl, skipping and bounding through the garden, hoping to find every flower she could. Dorian watched her with a smile, shaking his head at how adorable she could be.

A sudden realization washed over him as he watched the young woman stand on her toes to reach an apple: she must be Cullen’s secret muse. Watching her enjoy every last bit of the garden, even the new insects that had been attracted by the plants, cemented this truth in his mind. Cullen was head over heels for Lyann Trevelyan.

After spending time with his friend amongst the flowers, admiring every scent, Dorian slipped away to consult Cullen on his next move. As he poked his head into the Commander's office, he saw Cullen excitedly pacing, grinning to himself.

“Do you know what a bouquet is, my friend? Perhaps something was lost in translation last we spoke.” Dorian teased, grabbing Cullen’s attention.

Cullen’s head shot up and he smiled widely, rushing over to Dorian to get his reaction. “Well? What do you think?”

Dorian chuckled at Cullen’ childlike glee. “I think you did an excellent job. Maybe a bit over the top, but I can certainly say it made an impression.”

Cullen nearly melted, “Oh, Dorian, I am so glad to hear it. Your advice was invaluable!”

Dorian grinned as he said lowly, “The Inquisitor especially liked it, might I add.”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he blushed, straightening his back, “O-oh! Well, I suppose I should have run it past her first, but it’s a bit embarrassing to tell her my intentions. Josephine was good about keeping it confidential.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing to the floor.

Dorian gave a hardy chuckle, “Oh I understand. Now, what did you have planned for the next step?”

Cullen froze. “Next…step? How many steps are there?”

Shaking his head, Dorian grabbed the blond by the shoulders and lead him to his desk.

“May I?” Dorian snatched a quill and paper.

“Step one: a sweet but generic gift to show your interest. Something to casually say ‘I might like you'. You already did that one. Following?”

Cullen nodded, leaning his elbows on the desk as he watched Dorian write.

“Alright. Step two: a more personal gift. Something you know they like. This shows them not only are you interested in them, but you’re interested in their interests as well.”

“Right…” Cullen chewed his lip.

“What is it?” Dorian sighed.

“I don’t know much about their likes. They aren’t very…direct. Ever.”

Well that doesn’t sound like Lyann… Dorian thought to himself.

Dorian had to restrain from rolling his eyes. “Well, in that case, an easy thing to get for someone indecisive is sweets. Candy, chocolate, biscuits, pastries. Things like that. Just get them sweets that remind you of them.”

Cullen looked utterly concerned. “Am I supposed to…guess what they…taste like?”

Dorian stared at him with a blank look, completely astounded. “No. What does that even—no, never mind, please don’t attempt to explain.”

After drumming his fingers on the desk for a moment, Dorian tried to be more clear—though he thought he had been plenty clear before. “Think of how they act, yes? Are they kind and sweet? Flowery and fun? Warm like spice?”

Cullen nodded along, seemly understanding this time.

Dorian smiled, placing a tender hand on the blonds arm. “I’ll leave you to it then."

__________

Several days later and not a word from Cullen, Dorian felt a bit anxious. Had he not been clear enough still? Did Cullen get too nervous to continue? Oh no, did he have a falling out with Lyann; she didn’t return his feelings?

Just as he began to lose himself in his nerves, despite having research to focus on, Dorian caught a subtle whiff of something delicious. It was warm and baked, but chocolatey and rich, and somehow tart all at once. Cullen must have asked the cooks to do their damnedest.

After a while the scent became too much, it was too intriguing, Dorian had to go to the kitchens and see for himself what was being baked. As he descended the stairs to Solas's area, the elf came from the main hall with a plate of goodies. Tarts and cookies and all sorts, laid out decoratively on a porcelain dish.

“My my,” Dorian quirked a brow, “Someone has a sweet tooth it seems.”

Solas didn’t look at him as he replied, “There is a spred out there. I would be a fool to turn down free food. Especially Orlaisian pastries.” He popped a fruit tart into his mouth.

Dorian exited to the main hall and was greeted by long dining tables over flowing with every dessert imaginable. Full cakes, cup cakes, full pies, hand pies, everything he loved and things he hadn’t tried before, but was more than eager to.

Everyone in Skyhold, and a few visiting nobles, huddled around the tables making sure to heap their plates, and at the front of the room, with a towering plate nearly spilling down her shirt, was the ever graceful Inquisitor, shoving candied dates into her gob.

“Well aren’t you looking marvelous today,” Dorian laughed as he approached.

“Hm? Oh, Dorun!” Lyann mumbled through half chewed food.

She took a second to chew and swallow before nearly shouting, “Isn’t this amazing?! Cullen and Josephine planned this in only a few days! I don’t know how they got it all here and kept it so fresh! It taste like it just came from the ovens, or maybe the Maker's own kitchen.” She swooned as she crammed another treat into her mouth.

Dorian chuckled, picking up a plate to load up himself. “Cullen planned this, did he? Any idea why?” He feigned curiosity.

“No idea,” Lyann shrugged, nearly dropping a pudding, “He usually doesn’t care about impressing nobles, so I don’t know who he’s trying to impress. Maybe he just felt like the troops deserved it!”

“Oh, I’d bet he’s trying to catch someone’s attention...” Dorian hinted, but the Inquisitor was already going in for seconds. Well, more like fourths.

Dorian shook his head with a smile as she walked off to her chambers with a mountain of sweets. Just as he began picking out his favorite treats, a soft voice spoke up behind him.

“Have you tried the jam biscuits yet? They’re heavenly. I might actually die if someone doesn’t stop me.”

Dorian turned around just in time to see Cullen with a jam cookie half way to his lips. Just as it was about to touch his tongue, Dorian snatched it away, downing it in one bite.

Cullen looked at him in shock, mouth still open to receive the sweet. They laughed together as Dorian tried to chew the mouthful.

“So? What do you think? Did I hit all the right flavors?”

Dorian chuckled, “If everything under the sun reminds you of them, then yes.”

Cullen sighed dreamily, “Everything…”

Dorian had only seen that look a handful of times, but by the Maker, it was his favorite expression on the blond. That look of complete adoration, losing himself to a daydream. It looked beautiful. He looked beautiful…

Dorian shook his head, reminding himself he was helping the man court someone else. The Inquisitor, of all people. But they seemed like a good match, both very…Ferelden.

When he looked back, Cullen was staring at him with bright eyes, an innocent smirk lopsided on his lips. Dorian smiled back.

“Is everything alright?” Cullen asked so gently.

Dorian swallowed hard before clearing his throat, “Yes, of course. Just thinking about your next step.”

“What’s that?”

Dorian led Cullen to a less crowded area of the hall. “Well, everything you’ve done so far has been very…grand. You may want to think about doing something one-on-one with them, personally.”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his neck. “Right, one-on-one…If you couldn’t tell, I’ve been trying to take an indirect approach.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “But how are they ever supposed to know it’s you?”

“Well, I thought it would be rather obvious.” Cullen gave him a very confused stare.

“Listen,” Dorian sighed and shifted his weight, “they know it’s you, but you have to show that it’s for them.”

Cullen’s eyes lit up, “Oh! Oh, of course, I should have—I’m sorry Dorian I didn’t understand—”

“That’s alright, I just hope you’ve planned for something one-on-one, because I can’t help you with this next bit.”

“What?” Cullen’s eyes seems almost terrified, losing his only advisor.

Dorian wraps his fingers around the back of Cullen’s neck, pulling him closer so he could hear the whisper, “You must make this personal. I’m always willing to help, but I can’t tell you everything they like and how to fit it all together. That’s up to you, my friend.”

Cullen sighed and let his head fall forward, forehead almost leaning against Dorian’s. “Alright. I’ll try to do you proud.”

The mage smiled reassuringly, “You will, Cullen. Don’t worry.”

__________

After nearly a week without any word, Dorian received a surprise visit just as noon struck.

“Glad to see you haven’t given up. I was starting to wonder if you had gotten cold feet.” Dorian teased, slapping Cullen’s arm playfully.

Cullen grinned wide and chuckled, “Well, I’m not actually here for advice this time. I was wondering if you might come with me. I think I’ve found the perfect place for a date!”

“Oh?” Dorian was shocked by the confidence in the Commander’s voice. “What are we waiting for then? Need I pack a bag?”

“No, it’s not too far.” Cullen eyed him up and down, considering his outfit. “Though I might wear something more casual, were I you.”

Dorian looked down at his attire, about to ask why, when Cullen called back to him, already on his way, “I’ll meet you at the gates in an hour. Don’t be late.”

So he dressed down and packed a bottle of wine to sip at on the ride there. Where ever “there” was; Cullen was being awfully secretive about their destination, only repeating that it was the perfect spot for a date.

Just as the two had run out of things to banter about on the ride, Cullen stopped his horse by a gap in some trees.

“Through here. We’ll have to tie up the horses, I don’t think they’ll make it through the foliage.”

Dorian sighed an exasperate sigh, “Are we in for much of a hike? You know I get more exercise than I truly want while adventuring with the Inquisitor.”

Cullen chuckled and held some leaves out of the way for Dorian to duck under. After a short walk, Cullen looked back and smiled, “I think it’s beautiful out here. Tell me what you think.”

Dorian stepped forward through the last bit of trees to be greeted by the most sparkling, clearest, gentlest lake he’d ever laid eyes on. The water rippled steadily with the slight breeze, waves barely formed yet still enough to rock the lily pads and fallen leaves. The sun was just visible through the trees, but not enough to blind them, slowly lowering in the sky, ready shine orange and pink light across the water when dusk came.

“I…” Dorian couldn’t find his words, “Cullen, this is gorgeous…”

He looked back to Cullen who leaned confidently against a tree, pleased with the mage's reaction.

But as he turned back, Dorian remembered who all this was for, and it put a heaviness in his heart. His eyes dropped as he said “She’ll love this, Cullen. I know she will.”

Long moments went by with no response before Dorian felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

“Who?” Cullen asked softly, seeing Dorian was upset.

“Lyann, silly. She’ll find this all so lovely, I’m sure.” He had a hard time keeping eye contact with the Commander, curious eyes meaning no ill intent.

“Lyann?” Cullen pulled back slightly. “Why would I bring her—”

Cullen’s eyes went wide as he muttered, “oh no…”

He stepped away to pace, continuing his “no”s under gus breath, thinking of something to say or do to make it right.

“Cullen? I don’t understand, what’s wrong?” Dorian followed his pacing, trying to grab his arm.

“I’ve screwed this up royally, that what’s wrong! Lyann?! You thought this was all for the Inquisitor?”

Dorian stopped in his tracks. “Yes? I saw how much she enjoyed everything you did, so I assumed…”

It struck him like a charging druffalo. “No.” He whispered. “For…for me?”

Cullen looked over his shoulder sheepishly, waiting for a better idea of Dorian’s reaction.

“All of it?” Dorian’s words were hardly voiced, sliding out along a whisper of disbelief.

Cullen turned around fully and began taking cautious steps toward Dorian, trying to gage if his surprise was good or bad.

As Dorian continued to stare forward, slack jawed, Cullen placed a warm hand on his neck, the other finding the mage’s chin and tilting his gaze up to lock eyes.

“Everything. Every flower, every tart, everything. I wanted to give you the world, but I didn’t know how to start. I wanted you to see I would do anything for you, Dorian. You want flower, I’ll plant you a garden. You want sweets, I’ll bring the world’s best bakers to you.”

Dorian’s eyes only showed more confusion. Cullen leaned forward, stopping just before their lips touched to whisper, “I love you.”

“You—” But the words were stolen from his lips as Cullen pulled him in, chest to chest, arms around his waist, surprisingly deft lips making him melt into the blond.

He lost track of time. It could have been seconds, minutes, maybe an hour, before they pulled away, each out of breath and shaking from a single shared shiver down their spines.

“That was…electrifying.” Cullen sighed, hugging the mage close.

Dorian could hardly think straight, just hugging Cullen back as he gathered his thoughts.

After a moment of silence, Dorian finally relaxed against Cullen and said, “I…didn’t think I could be so dense.”

They laughed together, Cullen pulling back to plant a gentle kiss to the mage’s nose.

“But in my defense,” Dorian began, returning to his regular self, “who asks the person they plan on courting for advice on how to court them?”

“Well, you liked everything, didn’t you?” Cullen teased back.

Dorian shook his head, still feeling like this couldn’t be real. But those eyes, those golden eyes…

“I…feel strongly about you, Cullen. I’d dare say I’m smitten.”

Cullen smiled even wider before placing a quick kiss to Dorian lips, stripping off his shoes and tunic with impressive speed, and jumping like a cannonball into the lake. Dorian put his hands up to shield his face from the splash, but his casual clothes soaked up the water on contact.

“Looks like you’ll have to let those clothes dry. What should we do in the meantime?” Cullen called over smugly.

“You little southern…” Dorian shook his head before stripping down and diving in himself, making sure to get Cullen in the face.

They laughed together as they splashed the other back and forth, stopping only to share a passionate kiss.

[msommers]

LITTLE INQUISITION MOMENTS.

WHERE WAS YOUR CHARACTER WHEN THE BREACH FIRST OPENED? WHAT WAS GOING THROUGH THEIR HEAD IN THE IMMEDIATE AFTERMATH?

in the denerim market, worrying over the coin she had just spent allowing her brother to pick out what he wanted for his birthday, and doing her gosh darn best to hide it from him (even though he's old enough to understand such things, she still doesn't want to burden him any more than necessary). 

i don't? think?? that she would have been able to see the breach all the way in denerim, or even just. perceive the entire event at the conclave happening at all in the moment. so, technically: still fretting about the family coin, beginning to plan out their meals for the week and hoping garahel wouldn't be too upset that they couldn't have something special to eat that night. ((later when she has learned about what happened at the temple of ashes, she’s a little afraid. the world is spiraling into chaos further by the day and it’s an uncomfortable thought.))

HOW DID YOUR CHARACTER FIRST HEAR OF THE INQUISITION? WHAT DID THEY THINK?

in a letter sent to her by queen meredith, giving her further details on what happened at the conclave and proposing that jorina should join the forces + supplies that the crown intended to send to the budding inquisition as support. jorina had served as a skilled cartographer to the crown for probably at least?? 5 years at that point and meredith believed she would prove to be a valuable member of the inquisition if she were to join, and jorina wasn’t one to argue with the ding dang hero of ferelden. she believed that the inquisition could do some good for the world that was getting more frantic and desperate with each passing day and she was off to join their ranks (after making certain that her family would be well off until she could start sending some coin back their way). 

WHAT DID IT FEEL LIKE THE FIRST TIME THE HERALD SEALED A RIFT WITH THEM PRESENT?

i mean,, honestly,,, bewildering might be a good word for it. jorina doesn't know the first thing about magic, let alone the fade, so her witnessing the sealing of a rift didn’t necessarily pique anything overtly positive in her. it probably made her feel more safe, though. she's a very security oriented person and getting to see an open gateway that brought demons over into the physical world?? absolutely lovely to have it confirmed to work right before her eyes. get those things OFF of her earth, thank you. 

WHAT WERE THEIR LIVING ARRANGEMENTS IN HAVEN?

whatever all of the other scouts were given, i suppose. i don't really know what it'd be but i'm assuming some kind of tent or barracks situation?? she wouldn't have made much of a fuss about it given that she was almost always out on missions anyhow, avoided making any personal touches to the place because she was so focused on the work. 

WHAT ROLE DOES YOUR CHARACTER PLAY IN THE INQUISITION? DOES IT CHANGE AT ALL THROUGHOUT THE COURSE OF THE GAME?

jorina's a scout and cartographer! she's sent out (along with aleksi and maybe two or three others) to get a lay of the lands before the inquisitor and co make their trips. she draws up maps of the spaces, takes excessive notes and adds sketches of local landmarks, flora, fauna, that kind of stuff, anything to send back as much information to the inquisition as she can. firm believer in making note of every little thing because you never know what detail may come in handy down the line, no matter how small (and no matter how tedious and time-consuming it feels for her companions).

i imagine through the course of the inquisition's events that jorina is given more and more responsibility in the field, until she's ultimately promoted to head scout (aka the same level as lead scout harding, just allowing for split responsibilities between them). she's very dedicated to her work (some might say Too dedicated, take a break girl) and consistently delivered fantastic results, earning the attention and gratefulness of those above her who would later decide to give her that new title. 

i fully believe jorina needed that year (?? maybe not as long, but near to it) before she was promoted to be good at her job as head scout, because it gave her the time necessary to get to know the other scouts well and develop her own skills. knowledge on those fronts helped her down the line when she would be left in charge of scheduling and assigning jobs, being able to group people who would work well together and avoid any conflict that could come from failings in that department. (aka her charisma isn't great please do not force her to talk more than she has to, just take your job assignment and go do it thank you she has other work to do) 

IT’S YOUR CHARACTER’S TURN TO COOK A MEAL FOR THE PARTY. WHAT DO THEY TURN TO FIRST?

either some kind of bread with cheese baked into it or a stew, or both if she has the time. i think those would have been the things she made A Lot back in denerim for her family and even if she might be dreadfully bored of some variations, she finds comfort and enjoyment in the familiar process of cooking them anyhow.

WHEN IT’S THEIR TURN TO TAKE WATCH AT A PARTY CAMP, WHO DO THEY HOPE THEIR PARTNER WILL BE?

the obvious answer is aleksi, and the back-up harding. but if we're going for the fun points as in which inquisitor’s circle companion?? i think jorina would enjoy the company of blackwall and varric the most. blackwall is content to sit in the quiet with her while they both work on their own things and trade occasional comments, and varric is somebody that i could see successfully helping jorina out of her shell for a while with conversation and much needed laughs. (for fun, i think the person she would most hope to avoid that alone time with is cole. not because she doesn’t like him or anything, but because she’s Quite afraid of hearing him delve into her thoughts and openly drag her across the ground with them. she’d like to keep all of that private and shoved deep down, thank you)

IF NOT IN THE PARTY, WHAT ARE THEY DOING DURING THE ATTACK ON HAVEN? AND DURING THE RETREAT?

jorina was one of the scouts posted a little beyond haven at the time to keep watch for any important messengers or potential danger, so she was one of the two or three people that i imagine came bounding through the gates with news of the encroaching forces. she was probably bouncing around different elevated platforms to take potshots at the advancing enemies before being called back to the chantry and then being sent to scout ahead through the pathway that chancellor roderick had informed them of. she would have been working herself to exhaustion during the retreat and ensuing journey to skyhold with constantly scouting ahead and checking on those she cared about who had been hurt in the fight. could have used 39 hours of uninterrupted sleep upon finally reaching the new base, but she was probably up and about after 7 whenever she did get around to resting tbh.

IF PRESENT, WHAT WAS THEIR REACTION TO THE DAWN WILL COME BEING SANG WHEN THE HERALD WOKE UP AFTER THE LOSS OF HAVEN?

i’d love to put something funny or fake deep here but honestly i don’t think she was present for it. i think jorina would have been well ahead of the temporary camp set-up there between the mountains and at most would have heard distant singing carried through the winds, unable to understand what was being sung exactly. (if she was there she’d probably just want everyone to be quiet so the injured could rest ngl)

WHAT DO THEY THINK OF THE HERALD BEING MADE INQUISITOR? DO THEY THINK IT WAS THE RIGHT CHOICE, OR WOULD THEY HAVE PREFERRED SOMEONE ELSE (ONE OF THE ADVISORS, CASSANDRA, EVEN HAWKE OR THE HOF)?

would have loved for meredith cousland to become the inquisitor simply because she knows and has relative trust in her, but i don't think jorina would have any negative opinions on a herald becoming inquisitor as long as they're a Good person. has significant less trust in an inquisitor who supports the narrative of being andraste’s herald though, i don’t think that would rub her the right way.

WHAT ARE THEIR LIVING ARRANGEMENTS IN SKYHOLD?

just because i think it's funny, i like to imagine she often took to retreating up in one of those ignored rooms at the tops of the towers. they were quiet, essentially removed from the crowds, and gave her a nice view of things. it probably wasn't fixed up or decorated until she received her promotion and it was clear she'd be spending more time there on occasion, so she put in a request with josephine and had it fixed up so it could be a Proper room instead of somewhere she hid away on occasion.

i think she'd have the basic furniture in there (bed, wardrobe, desk, two or three trunks for storage, a few bookshelves) and most of her time inside would be spent working at her desk or relaxing in bed. she probably adds to it over time (and aleksi probably does as well tbh) with this and that, but the additions she'd care about most are the things gifted by aleksi or sent to her by her family. i imagine her brother might become an assistant to a blacksmith?? and she'd probably have a few little things from him around the room, proud of them even if they aren't of Masterwork quality yet.

WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER DO DURING THEIR OFF HOURS AT SKYHOLD?

according to everyone around her: still too much fucking work. it's hard for jorina to remember that it's good to simply Relax or spend time on light activity, so she needs somebody to remind her of that from time to time. when she does get around to those off hours a lot of them are spent with aleksi, reading, or being quiet company to whatever her friends are up to. i think she might also love spending time in the skyhold garden when it's not full of too many strangers and she can enjoy some peace, maybe sketch up some of the flowers or familiar figures if they're around and she's feeling up to it.

ASSUMING YOUR CHARACTER IS RELIGIOUS, HOW DO THEY KEEP THEIR FAITH IN SKYHOLD? DO THEY PRACTISE OPENLY?

jorina isn’t religious, but!! her mother was and she respected that. and i think jorina would have painted a vhenadahl onto one of the walls of her skyhold room in honor of her mother, inspired by the times she would pray at the tree.

DO THEY NEED ANY PREPARATION OR LESSONS BEFORE ARRIVING AT THE WINTER PALACE?

this is a trick question because everybody was given lessons on etiquette and dancing by josephine, you can't fool me.

that's a joke to cover up the fact that 100% yes jorina needed all of the lessons and preparation that she could be helped with, and even then it wasn't enough to help her feel fully Comfortable while at the event. she was only in the background gathering information and it Still felt dreadful for her, too many judging eyes and people openly speaking about betrayal and deception. (the only highlight was her time spent with aleksi, he helped her from getting too bothered or worked up and she was Very grateful.)

WHICH MAIN QUEST AFFECTS THEM THE MOST? IN WHAT WAY?

i mean…probably in your heart shall burn?? obviously because of the terrifying haven battle and its aftermath, and then all of the rough work she went through during and after. i think it helped jorina see just how far she could go if she pushed herself into more of an active and direct role while others were too busy to make decisions (nothing huge, but noticeable to her and the scouts with her in the moment). on top of that, this quest marks where jorina realized how in deep she was for aleksi which was Really big for her! she hadn't experienced caring for someone else so Deeply outside of her own family before, so it felt like being smacked in the chest with a red templar’s gauntlet when jorina first spotted him after being separated in the fight and she was hit with a wave of emotion. 

WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THE INQUISITOR JUDGES PRISONERS? DO THEY WATCH OR MAKE THEMSELVES SCARCE? IF THEY DISAGREE WITH THEIR DECISION, DO THEY EXPRESS THAT LATER?

if she's present at skyhold while a judgment is occurring i think jorina would watch, because in some way she thinks that it's right to. that even though her part in it may have been Small, she still aided in the capture of many of skyhold's prisoners and she believes that she should witness the deciding of their fates because of that. i don't imagine that she'd go around looking to throw her displeasure at anybody, but she'd probably admit to any disagreements with a decision made if the topic came up and she was asked.

HOW DO THEY CELEBRATE CORYPHEUS’ DEFEAT?

lots of sleeping with aleksi (both in the rest way and the naughty way), so many baths meant for actual relaxation instead of just cleaning, singlehandedly proving that the maker is real by being the one to suggest attending the [end of game] grand hall celebration that would undoubtedly be packed with people that's a goddamn miracle right there. you know the normal celebratory stuff. she'd invite her family to visit after a while, when things have calmed down and she believes significant threats are no longer a worry. she's wanted to show her siblings and father around the place for a long while, what better time than after their victory when everyone’s spirits are so high?

WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER DO IN THE YEARS BETWEEN THE END OF DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION AND TRESPASSER? FEEL FREE TO WRITE A CODEX ENTRY LIKE THE ONES WE RECEIVE FOR OUR OTHER COMPANIONS.

alright well originally i was gonna write some letters from jorina’s siblings and her dad here but my brain will just. Not allow me, so.

i imagine she still would have had her responsibilities to the inquisition and had to have done some traveling and the like, but i don’t think it felt pressured by time anymore and jorina would have felt more free to enjoy the places she visited. time with aleksi is a given but still important. 

her sister’s letter would have been about the time the family spent visiting skyhold, talking about what they liked and who they missed. would have mentioned whatever job she had recently gotten in/near denerim (haven’t decided on it yet), and a promise to stay out of trouble at the end because she’d caused some stress while jorina was away.

her brother’s letter would have had an update on his apprenticeship with one of denerim’s blacksmiths and how their father is doing, and a question about when they would see jorina and aleksi again because he misses them (and asaara). probably some other tidbit but i didn’t come up with it lmao

her father’s letter would have had questions about jorina and aleksi’s travels and talk about the family potentially moving away from the alienage with the coin that they’d been able to save up over the last few years with her help, though he wasn’t sure where they’d go. would have rounded off with some sweet words of support and an awkward thanks for all that she’d done for the family while he wasn’t able to step in.

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Okay, I need to rant because I’ve had this thought of “Why isn’t Solas a bi option in DA:I?” for so freaking long. However, I didn’t really think more about it other than, “Well, maybe because it’s going for a specific aspect of forbidden love. A softness and gentleness that wouldn’t work with a male Lavellan.” But no. The more I think about it, the more that explanation doesn’t make SENSE! 

So, as you play, you talk with Solas, you get to know Solas, he gets to know you and blah blah. BUT, have you ever noticed that NONE of the conversation voice lines change depending on your gender? Solas never once points out a direct correlation about your gender. The man studies SPIRITS, who, for all intents and purposes, have NO gender. So, the whole argument of “Oh, well, he’s from the time of Arlathan. It was probably a very traditional minded place that would frown on same sex relationships.” Now, that I can understand since most of Thedas operates the same way, but our dear wolf is the god of REBELLION. Do you think even for one second that Solas would have given a damn about what others thought of him and his decisions? Especially when he, in various moments, tells Blackwall, Sera, whoever, that he was hot headed and young, that he thought he was right about everything. Yes, that more or less foreshadows the things he ended doing with the Evanuris and the Veil, but the principle is the same for his own personal choices. 

So, taking that concept into mind, let’s go back to the perspective of the Solavellan romance. While the voice lines never change depending on your gender, the options of how your Inquisitor responds do. However, only to FLIRT. Literally. That’s all. That is all that changes. And while I do like the flirting options because “Oh, hello, Mr. Smooth. How you doing?”, sometimes I don’t pick them even when I am a female Lavellan because they feel..hollow to me. Why? Well, for one, they seem to come at very inopportune times. Like for example, when Solas is discussing the identity of spirits and how they’re not considered people because they have no physical form, you can literally just disregard anything of what he just said in favor of flirting. I dislike that. It comes off as you aren’t interested in what he has to say because your mind is fixated on the physical qualities behind those words; something he just more or less said shouldn’t matter! So, I, depending on my Inquisitor, always choose anything BUT the flirting option for that conversation. It’s more meaningful to me that your Lavellan interacts with Solas in a heartfelt way rather than a sexual way. 

So, that leads me back to why I think Solas should have been a bisexual option. Since the conversations don’t change, the major scenes don’t change, and your overall bond with Solas doesn’t change, why should it matter that your female or male? My current Inquisitor, Fane, has just as much of an attachment to Solas as a male than if he were female. Granted, I have taken liberties with headcanons and fanfiction to shape a deeper relationship between the two (I’m sorry. I’m a sucker for past lives AUs), but if most people, not just me, can think in such a way, then why couldn’t the developers? What? Is Male Lavellan too base for Solas to offer to take away the vallaslin? Is a possible romantic relationship too scandalous, even though we have various same sex relationships in the series? It’s not like I’m angry and kicking my feet like, “Why can’t we have the kiss scene as a male? It’s not fair!”. Hell, with Fane’s story, Solas and he don’t even kiss until after the Temple of Mythal! I’m serious! Maybe not even then! Why? Because, one; Fane isn’t an overly affectionate person; he’s subdued, but mostly confused of what he’s feeling. And two: I freaking LIVE for relationships that are centered around an EMOTIONAL connection; not physical. Fane and Solas were in an emotional relationship centuries before Inquisition; mainly, when Fane was still a dragon. So, that relationship simply continued once Fane regained most of his memories and Solas stopped being all, “You deserve better than me.”. Well, it wasn’t THAT simple, but you get the point. Fane and Solas grew close through learning about each other and overcoming prejudice that the two had about each other; not through physical actions. 

Anyways, back to the main point, Solas should have been bisexual. I see the romance as a spiritual connection; not a physical one, despite the kiss scenes because even those are very reserved, very subdued, and very careful (Except for the first one. HO!). Even so, they didn’t even have to integrate those animations for the male lavellan model to placate people. No, I would have simply been happy that it was ACKNOWLEDGED in game that you were in relationship with Solas; kiss or no kiss. There are asexual people, you know? Just a thought. 

Anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk, even if it is a little scattered. My thoughts like to jump a lot. However, this isn’t me bashing Female Lavellan or anything. I just feel like a lot of people were robbed. Gender doesn’t adhere to emotions or ideals. Love is love; no matter the form someone takes. You love a person for their personality, not their hair, eyes, or what they have biologically. You love a person for their spirit, their mind, their way of thinking. The physical aspects are simply bonuses that allow you to see the person for which their personality embodies. THAT is what the Solavellan romance is to me, and that’s why I adore it so much and why I thought it could work for either Lavellan because nothing changes to make one gender more preferable than the other.

[ahsoka-lives]

Apprentice pt. 3 (REWRITE)

A/n: Yikes, I didn’t like the original one too much so I edited it and added a bit more perspective and changed the over all plot structure a bit. The beginning is largely the same, it’s the end and the dialogue that changed the most. I appreciate the kind words given from the original but I am critical of myself and will always find ways to pick apart what I wrote, whether it was good or not. I promise this one is staying up! Thank you all for almost 150 followers!! And thank you for being so patient with me as I repost work and take so long to update. I hope you’re all taking care of yourselves and that you enjoy this chapter!! Gif is by @wiccangoddes​

Warnings: Descriptions of death, threats, Soulmate AU

Word count: 3199

The past month alone on this ship was tiresome, the only consistency was a dull ache in the base of your skull, a side effect of not being with Cal. Luckily, yesterday was the final portion of tests aboard the training vessel.

There wasn’t much about the final test you remembered, only going into the sensory deprivation chamber and succumbing to the sedative. When you woke up you were cleared to return to “Cal’s supervision”, a phrase you were growing tired of.

Secretly, you’d grown bitter the past few weeks, you were treated far worse when not around Cal. The technicians weren’t exactly pleasant and while you may have worn their uniform, they knew who you were and where you came from. They treated you like the Bracca trash they saw you as. Now, when looking at you there were no remnants of your upbringing in your appearance. Long gone was the poncho that served you comfort all those years. No one could tell that the Empire tore you away from the only place you could call home and attempted to brainwash you. You couldn’t help but feel like you let this happen, mesmerized by the idea of a happily ever after with Cal, you willingly walked aboard the transport. Then not even a day later, you watched him walk away from you and onto his ship with only a few kind words and the promise of his return.

All personnel walked the halls with their heads high and shoulders back. Their uniforms blurred them together, erasing any personality within them. They were only of the Empire, nothing else. The fluorescent lighting reflected off the white tile, giving the ship a sense of sterility. Now, you stood in the mirror of your small, cramped room aboard the training vessel. The brandishing of the Inquisition was displayed on your shoulder, this was their training armor. It was similar to Cal’s chest plate, only yours lacked his sense of authority. You knew that was something you’d have to make for yourself starting today. 

Today was your first time back into the real world since being taken into the Empire and because of how fresh your training is, Cal was going to keep you under a microscope.

 - Cal’s POV

Cal Kestis stood inside the small bay of his ship in front of the holotable, his eyes fixated on the projection in front of him. It was the case file containing every ounce of data the Empire could procure on you. Every test, every simulation, every behavioral pattern that could be used to predict your future actions in the field. On your last test, you performed abnormally well with the exception of one minor infringement that resulted in the test ending sooner than expected, written off as a technical difficulty. Nevertheless, they sent the recording to him, just as he requested for every test.

Cal looked fondly at the intake photo that was shown next to your name one last time. He knew all too well what was to come, how could he not? The Empire was exceptionally skilled in controlling its subjects and as such, they had a knack for identifying those who would give them trouble. He wondered what you would think of the name they’d given you and if you would soon prove them right.

 Y/f/n Kestis, FLIGHT RISK.

-Reader’s POV

The walk to the hangar was a short one, within minutes you were walking on the bridge that hung over it. You looked down onto the ship that had just docked. Standing beside it talking to a small group of troopers was Cal, instantly upon seeing him your muscles relaxed, the ache in your neck and shoulders lessened. The closer you got the more the tense feeling of anticipation in both of you slipped away. That’s not to say the bitterness you felt was gone, only lessened with the feeling of normalcy returning to your body

.“Apprentice.” He nodded to you in acknowledgment. You stayed silent as he dismissed the troopers and let them walk for a moment before pulling you in for an unexpected hug. The headache left you almost instantly and you melted into his arms. The energy around him fought to suffocate you further against him, you weren’t sure if this was a conscious effort or just a reflex for him. He took a deep breath in, balance returning to him after a long few weeks without having you around. Was he happy to see you or happy to feel his power returning?

-

While on your way to the new living arrangements that the Empire set up for Cal and you, a distress signal was intercepted by the ship. A small outpost on a nearby moon had a small squabble with the locals, nothing out of the ordinary according to Cal. 

Across from you in the bay, Cal’s helmet sat in the chair next to him as he meditated, there was something peaceful about this. His face was relaxed with the exception of his brows furrowed in concentration. Seeing him like this humanized him, it made a hopefulness bloom inside of you, maybe his intimidating manner was all a facade. 

But as soon as the ship landed, the helmet returned, with it your memory of what he’s done while wearing that uniform. The uniform reminded you of the time you spent in the labs on the training vessel. They showed you what the Empire had in store for you. The Empire wanted to turn you into a weapon just like they had Cal. The simulations were designed to warp your view on reality, to plant the false narrative of the Empire’s savior complex, and to tempt you into accepting its enemies on as your own. Perhaps their biggest mistake was showing you what the Empire does to force sensitives. They showed you that if it weren’t for your ties to Cal, you would be lying dead in the scrapyards at this very moment. 

The Force-sensitives in the simulations were painted as burdens, as insignificant evils that needed to be removed from the galaxy with a swift and heavy hand. But, if that were true, what did that make you? How could you in good conscience kill someone like you? Someone who may not even understand their role in the universe yet or what it even means to be Force-sensitive. It’s thoughts like these that made the idea of running more tempting. 

You desperately tried to smother these thoughts, you’d hate for Cal to catch on. You’d learned that those skilled with the Force could tap into the thoughts and feelings of those around them and slight paranoia followed you ever since. For all you knew, he could be trying to see inside your head right this moment. 

 “Apprentice, let’s get going.” Cal snapped you out of the mental spiral you’d gone down. The fresh air washed over you and with it a fleeting moment of happiness.

“Let’s see if any of that training paid off.” He spoke as he held a saber out in his hand for you. It was cold and heavy in your hands, heavier than the training saber you used with the droids. Side by side, you walked with Cal, a squadron of troopers trailing behind you. The grass was near your knees and the trees towered over you providing shelter from the sun.

This wouldn’t be a bad place to disappear.

The group walked for miles in near silence until a column of smoke emerged from beyond the trees.

 “Eyes up, that’s coming from the outpost, this might be bigger than we thought.” Cal’s modulated voice called out. The troopers fanned out from behind you and raised their blasters. The air felt tense and the hairs on your neck stood, every sound suddenly more clear. 

Cal raised his fist to halt the troopers and looked down at the scanner on his forearm. Your eyes remained on the trees in front of you. They looked to Cal for direction who only pointed two fingers ahead of the group at the thick wall of trees and shrubbery. In unison, you and Cal reached for your sabers. 

Suddenly, high pitch blaster shots whizzed past you in a red flash, you braced and brought your saber up to block as many as you could. One by one the troopers were shot down, leaving only you and Cal standing. You gave a nervous glance up to his helmet and dug your feet further into the ground to solidify your position. He felt oddly calm. 

“Cal Kestis, we meet again.” A woman emerged from the trees, her voice was steady and smooth. Her cream-colored robes flowed gently in the wind, her dark hair was tied back out of her face that adorned a small smile. Behind her were a few soldiers dressed in similar green and beige clothes, not quite a uniform but close to it.

 “Trilla, how disappointing.” Cal mocked the woman. “How’s the leg doing since I last cut it off?”

“Well, the prosthesis business is booming, apparently a lot of sword-wielding maniacs have been running around” She joked and raised an eyebrow at the Inquisitor. “Aren’t you interested as to why I lured you here?”

“Not really, no. I’d rather skip to the part where I finish you and your little band of men off for good this time.” He sassed and flipped his saber up in his hands absentmindedly.

 “We got word of another Jedi being abducted by you and your sisters, am I right to assume this is her?” She sneered, gone was the playful banter between them.

“She’s no Jedi, and she’s none of your concern.” He growled and put an arm in front of you protectively.

 “On the contrary, innocent life in the hands of the Empire is and will always be my first priority.” She paused and looked at you this time. “I’m here to help you, what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n, and I don’t need your help.” You bit back and grabbed hold of his arm to lower it, allowing you to step forward. He was more than hesitant to allow this and you could feel his distaste for the situation arising. 

“Y/n, a little early for blind allegiance to them, isn’t it?” She urged and took a small step forward making Cal tense visibly.

“At least she knows where she belongs.” He bit from behind the mask.

“With the enemy? With the government who hunts down people like us?”

“There is no us, Trilla.” He chuckled darkly as he continued to berate her. “The order is gone, only the ashes of its failure remain along with insolent, naive padawans like yourself.”

“You forget that you were once a padawan, that you once wore the symbol of the Jedi with pride.” Her voice was saturated in emotion and she seemed to be choking back tears.

“For a Jedi, you sure cry a lot.” He rolled his eyes under the helmet, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. “How about I really give you something to cry about?”

His gloved hand raised in front of him and one of the soldiers rose from the ground and flew toward him. He swiftly impaled the soldier with his saber before letting the body fall to the ground at his feet. Without hesitation, he moved forward and lifted another off the ground only this time his fist curled tightly, and with a subtle movement of his head, he snapped the man’s neck. 

The woman named Trilla cried out, sprung forward and clashed her saber against his, their duel ensuing. You were torn from your state of shock by a blaster shot grazing past your shoulder. Your eyes flew to the source and you reflexively brought your saber up to block the next one.

 “Apprentice, you’re going to have to be more offensive than that,” Cal called out, his tone playful as he kicked Trilla in the chest sending her flying back. 

His hand stretched out and lifted the soldier who fired at you up and with a flick of his wrist the soldier was flown into the ground in front of you. The man was visibly shaken but his intent to finish his mission seemed to take precedence over what just happened. You screwed your eyes shut and swung your saber forward, slashing the rifle in half. 

The soldier, seemingly unfazed, swept your ankle with his foot making you fall to the ground, your saber falling a few feet away now lifeless. A knife was pulled from his boot and he lurched forward in an attempt to impale you with it. You shuffled backward away from him, your back near the dirt, panic flooding your chest. 

Your eyes looked to Cal who was preoccupied with a fight of his own and you realized that you were alone in this. You scrambled to your feet and took cautious steps back as the man in front of you seemed to be calculating his next attack. The saber, your only chance of survival, was at his feet. The soldier grunted and leaped toward you, you barely managed to avoid it. Your hand reached out desperately for your saber and every ounce of effort was forced into calling it to you, but the saber barely shifted on the ground. 

You groaned in frustration, why wasn’t it working?

“Y/n, behind you!” Cal yelled but it was too late, you were tackled to the ground, your head slamming into the firm grass.

 “Commander, I have her!” The man yelled to Trilla. 

The trees around you seemed to spin and you struggled to move as he had you pinned down, your saber was resting on the ground just a few feet in front of you and just beyond it was the fierce duel between the Jedi and the Inquisitor. You had to admit, Trilla was skilled but she lacked something that you saw in Cal. He was downright violent, while Trilla fought to defend herself, he fought for the sake of fighting. She fought toward an end but he relished in seeing the frustration on his opponent’s face as he evaded their attacks and inflicted pain onto them. 

You let your eyes shut and you tried to recall what you felt all those weeks ago on Bracca. Your hand flexed open and you let your mind feel the air around you, imagining that the world around you was still. You gave up on trying to physically will the saber to you and allowed your mind to do the work for you. You just had to get out of this, you weren’t going to let someone else take you away to stars knows where.

You sighed in relief when the cool metal of the hilt was in your hands. When your eyes reopened, the deep red of the saber was alive in front of you. You caught it in reverse and the blade had opened directly into the man’s chest, his limp body falling off of you. You stood up panting and looked to Cal who had single-handedly taken on the four other men and Trilla.

“Your men are dead, Trilla, are you ready to join them?” Cal taunted, his arms gesturing around to the dead bodies that lay around the three of you. The pain on her face was evident as was her exhaustion. She looked to you with an earnest glint in her eyes, a silent plea but you didn’t know what for. 

“Can’t you see what he is? What he wants you to become?” She begged and gestured to Cal, his face still hidden by his armor. “A monster in a mask who spends every waking moment in darkness.” 

“You don’t seem to understand, Trilla, she knows.” He chuckled and lazily twirled his saber in his hand. “Besides, she couldn’t leave me if she wanted to, we are bonded by the Force, inseparable.”

 “You? The Force gave you a soulmate?” She spit, sheer disbelief written over her face as she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter, you’ve known her for what? Four weeks? The bond isn’t complete, there’s still time for her.”

“None of this matters, but, I’ll tell you the best part.” He laughed, he was thoroughly entertained by all of this, the pain she felt included. “She knows no family, no past worth holding onto. There’s nothing for you to tempt her with. Only I can give her what she wants.”

He was right, you had nothing pulling you back, no family for you to return to. But if what Trilla said was true, you had nothing keeping you here either.

 Maybe you didn’t have to become another pawn. 

You took another look at the man in front of you, the memory of his comfortable arms still fresh in your memory. Cal promised you a lot, a soulmate...stability, but at what cost? Your eyes moved to the woman that was now kneeling on the ground, wounded and exhausted from fighting your partner. She offered a way out of the Empire’s schemes but that was it. Surely you could find that for yourself. In a moment of pure thoughtlessness you raised your palm up toward Cal, gaining his attention.

“My dear, that’s a bold move, even for you.” He chided and raised his hands to remove his helmet. “Are you sure you have what it takes to go against me?” 

“I’ll be long gone by the time you’re moving again.” Your voice was shaky as you tested the waters against him, guilt of your betrayal arising in you.

“Oh, I’m sure. I’ve seen what you can do but you have only seen a taste of what I can do.” He promised with a chilling intensity, a wicked smile on his handsome face, his excitement growing by the second. His irises tinted yellow and his pupils were blown. 

“Go ahead, I can handle it, sweetheart.” You felt the past few weeks of suppressed emotions and near torture bubbling inside of you. “Come on, gorgeous, I’ll give you a head start.”

He deactivated his saber and hooked it onto his waist, seemingly unbothered by the Jedi watching this unfold. While this meant he was going to let you run, it wasn’t nearly enough security for you. You mustered up all the strength that you could and forced Cal over the wall of bushes and away from you. 

After a moment of silence, you assumed him to be unconscious and stalked over to Trilla with a determined look on your face. 

“I knew you’d do the right thing, y/n.” She sighed and rose to her feet. The words made you roll your eyes, his arrogance was rubbing off on you. “I’m glad you’re joining the right cause.”

“I’m getting tired of everyone talking and thinking on my behalf, who said I was joining you?” You growled and shot your hand out to pull her saber into your hand, her unfounded trust in you left her guard down. 

Now, with both sabers in hand, you pointed one across her throat, the other in a block position above your torso. “Take me to your ship.”

[the-lightning-mage]

What’s The Next Step?

Cullen massaged his temple with his thumb as head rested on his hand. Unread reports were stacked high. The work, along with the lyrium withdrawals, were starting to make his head swim. He ran his left hand over his face, and let his head rest in it for a moment. When the moment was over he returned to his work with a frustrated sigh.

The lyrium wasn’t the only thing plaguing his mind, distracting him from the seemingly endless work. His mind wanted to stay on the ramparts with Inquisitor Mara Trevelyan like he had been the day before. Her declaration of feelings, and the kiss that followed wanted to occupy him.

When he heard a knock at his door he felt a mixture of annoyance and relief. On one hand he wanted to get the paperwork done and over with. On the other he desperately wanted a break.

“Come in,” he called, hoping the weariness didn’t seep into his voice too much.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” the Inquisitor… No, Trevelyan. No, Mara said. He wasn’t entirely sure what to call her.

“Nothing too important. What do you need?” he said as he looked up. He frowned slightly as he noticed she seemed nervous. She was fiddling with the hems of her gloves, not quite looking him in the eye. It was rare to see behind her mask of confidence. While he knew all too well that it wasn’t good to bury your feelings, it still hurt to see anything other than her normal positivity. He wanted to reach out. He wanted to help her.

“I wanted to talk to you… about us.”

The quill he was holding fell out of his hands, and he sat up a little straighter. He could certainly understand why she seemed nervous now. It still hurt to see her like that.

“We didn’t really get the chance to talk after the kiss.”

He stood, though it felt awkward and forced. The chair scratched loudly along the floor, making him cringe slightly.

“No, we didn’t,” he replied. He hoped he sounded a lot calmer than he felt.

“And I think we should.”

“Agreed.”

A silence fell between them, and the tension that came with it could be cut with a knife. He rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. It was a nervous tick of hers that he had noticed some time back. He found it to be oddly adorable.

He cleared his throat simply to break the silence. He knew what he wanted from their relationship. He wanted it to be a real, proper relationship. He wanted to be by her side through everything, and forever. He didn’t, however, know how to express what he wanted. Thankfully, she picked up on his uncertainty.

She smoothed her hands down her thighs, ending the movement with a light tap just above her knees. She took a deep breath, and finally looked him in the eye. The distance between them wasn’t doing her deep green eyes any favors. He had found out they were the type where you had to be close to the person to see just how pretty they were. He wished he could see just how beautiful they could be in the candlelight that lit his office. He forced himself to stop daydreaming. It could be all that he was left with if he didn’t listen.

She spoke quickly,“I don’t really know how to go about this. I’ve never really been in a proper relationship. What I do know though, is that I want to be with you. Truly. I want to have more than just a kiss. I don’t know what exactly that entails, or how to go about it, but I do want it,” she took another deep breath, “and I do know that I want to know if you feel the same way.”

He finally crossed the room to stand in front of her. She looked up at him with her big, green eyes, and they were as beautiful as he remembered. He stood a full foot taller than her, but he felt tiny and vulnerable as he grabbed her hands to hold in his own.

“I do feel the same way. I don’t have much experience here either, but we can learn together.”

Any semblance of fear or worry melted into a brilliant smile. She looked away, sheepish. The smile was enough to make him giddy, but to see her embarrassed when she was usually the one with confidence when it came to flirting, he couldn’t hide the grin that spread across his face. Even if it lasted only a moment.

She looked up again, smiling as bright as the sun, “Perhaps we could borrow some of Cassandra’s books? I’m sure we could get some advice from them.”

He chuckled, real and genuine. He let go of her hands, and wrapped his arms around her torso, “I’m sure we could, but I’d rather we figure it out for ourselves… or ask real people.”

She wrapped her arms around him in return, “Fair enough.”

Silence fell between them again, but it was a thousand times more comfortable this time. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look up at him. It looked uncomfortable, but she looked at him with nothing but fondness.

After a moment, he took a step back to give her poor neck a break. He was thankful he was still wearing his breastplate. The barrier made letting go a little easier.

She ran her hands down his arms to hold his hands once more, “I, ah, I should let you get back to work.”

He looked back at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Through some miracle he managed to keep from groaning in frustration. Instead he let out a hearty sigh.

“Or, perhaps you’d like to have dinner with me instead?” she offered.

For once he didn’t say no to a proper break. He knew that she wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he didn’t want to sour her mood by making her insist.

“Of course. Let me put a few things away, and I’ll join you.”

She nodded, still smiling, and left. He felt lighter than air as he put his quill and inkwell away. He felt like a teenager who had just had their first kiss. It was the first time he had felt genuinely happy in a long time, and perhaps most shockingly of all, he was starting to feel hopeful about what the future had in store.

[sinsbymanka]

This is a submission for the @cozy-autumn-prompts​ event, brainchild of the lovely @scharoux​. Thank you for the amazing prompts! @tightassets​ and I submit the following art (belonging to her talented hands) and fic (my doing) for prompt #4: By The Fire.

Title: It’ll be a Hell of a Story Rating: M Pairing: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Maria Cadash/Varric Tethras Tags: Flirting, UST, Fantasizing, Pre-Relationship, Non-Inquisitor Cadash

Read on AO3

It should have been a simple problem.

Simpler than the breach swirling threateningly above them, at any rate.

They’d managed to survive the whole world going to shit, but that massive hole in the sky was still gonna be a problem they needed to solve. Sooner rather than later. And to do that, they needed people. Soldiers. Mages. Weapons.

Lyrium.

And whenever someone said ‘lyrium’, they always looked at the dwarf. Like the humans and their skirts and their wars hadn’t upset the whole damn lyrium trade. Varric debated throwing his hands up and washing them of the whole thing.

Demons. Holes in the sky. Templars. Mages. None of it was really his cup of ale.

But there had been red lyrium in the temple. And that… well, that was his problem. He’d put it out in the world. He was responsible for the spark that ignited the fire, and now he had to deal with the inferno. Besides. He could find a lyrium dealer with one hand tied behind his back, right?

He could kick himself for his optimism.

Ruffles couldn’t get the Merchant’s Guild or Orzammar to play ball, not a surprise. Too much risk to sell to this ragtag bunch on top of a mountain, not enough reward. Even Varric wouldn’t be able to pull enough strings to make it work, which meant he needed the Carta.

Of course, the one time in his life he wanted them to appear, they were nowhere to be found. Frankly, that was suspicious. There’d been Carta crawling all over Haven when he arrived, it didn’t take much to see their signs. Dwarven marks carved into cabins to mark drop points. Snow clearly brushed back to cover paths. Several short, shady dwarves in the tavern that kept to themselves while they played cards.

If he’d have known he’d need them later, he would have said hello. He’d been too worried about spinning tales to make the chantry dance to his tune and trying to ingratiate himself to both sides of this damn mess so he could get back to Kirkwall with his fine dwarven chest hair intact.

Maybe they’d all died in the aftermath of the temple exploding. He’d seen a couple Dwarven corpses, but not enough to make up a whole crew, and there’d been multiple operating in Haven. Did that mean the rest fled?

Varric scratched his stubble while he picked his way down the icy, gravel path. His eyes still roamed, trying to find any signs of seedy deals lingering in the shadows, but all he saw were scared refugees and soldiers not even old enough to grow a beard. The wind cut through them all and they scurried past without even looking down at the dwarf.

Well. Back to his fire to regroup and think of another plan before he froze into a nice chunk of rather handsome ice.

Honestly, it was hard to believe that somebody didn’t look at the chaos and see profit to be made. They didn’t make Carta as tough as they used to, apparently. Where were all the tough, savvy business people? The clever rogues able to stay one step ahead of all the competition? What about someone who could look at this mess and decide to chip in, if only because that hole in the world threatened everything?

Varric scoffed to himself and shoved his hands in his coat. Carta dwarf with a heart of gold? He’d grow a beard first.

He sighed and turned the corner, letting his eyes drift covetously to the fire not twenty paces away.

And almost stumbled to a complete stop. There was a woman sitting on his bench, next to his abandoned supplies, munching on a flaky pastry while flipping through his book.

A dwarven woman. One that looked like the right kind of shady he’d been trying to locate all damn day.

But the cunning tip of her head as she read, the blade on her thigh, the sheer audacity of her, was nothing notable. Not compared to the curves accentuated by her snug breeches and the tempting swell of her breasts tantalizingly framed by a shirt not quite as scandalous as his, but close. Her red hair was braided away from her face, but wisps of it danced in the wind, tickled her freckled nose.

She lifted her eyes from the page and locked eyes with him. Hers crackled with intelligence, energy, and absolutely wicked satisfaction.

At a glance he knew three things. First. She was Carta. Second. She’d been watching him look for her.

Lastly, and most importantly, she was the best kind of trouble. And that made her more dangerous than she even knew.

She didn’t break eye contact, didn’t even bother to drop his pilfered book. Instead, she raised her snack to her lips and took a slow bite, watching him watch her like she was a queen upon her throne and him some lowly petitioner.

And honestly, that was the right of it. Which shouldn’t make him think of getting on his knees and throwing those shapely thighs over his shoulders, but dammit he hadn’t expected to find the most gorgeous woman in the world in the middle of the Ferelden muck.

She lifted his book, tipped her head to the side, and smirked. “It’s not bad, but you’re sodding verbose, Tethras. You should probably get a better editor.”

Every thought in his mind screeched to a halt, replaced by one word.

Minx.

“Sorry my personal belongings aren’t up to snuff, Princess. I’ll leave better material out for you to peruse next time.” Thank Andraste his mouth was still working, because he’d lost control of his feet completely, dragged towards her like a victim of an unseen mage.

She snapped the book shut and tossed it easily onto the ground, ignoring his nickname to pat the bench beside her. It was a clear invitation, and he almost forgot how absurd it was to be invited to sit on his bench. Almost.

“I’ve been looking for the Carta all damn day.” He narrowed his eyes, making a show of grumbling displeasure to hide his ridiculous glee.

Her only answer was a sly smirk and to recline back on one palm. “I know. I was watching.”

“See something you like?” He gestured at himself, watching her stormy eyes drop from his face down his stocky body, lingering pointedly on his displayed chest. Then she swept a burning path back to his face.

“It’s not a terrible view.” She admitted.

He smiled at her. The most charming, brilliant smile he could summon. The same one that had many a fine dwarven barmaid tumbling over themselves to get him another glass of ale. His redheaded temptress only gave him a predatorial smirk in return.

“Should I assume you’re here for business?” He asked.

Or pleasure.

He didn’t dare say it. Not to her. There was something… something about her that made him pause, consider her carefully. Something that screamed if he gave her that power over him, he’d regret it the rest of his life.

It was the eyes. Must have been. He’d never seen a more endless set of eyes in his damn life.

“I’m curious.” She declared, tapping her free hand on the bench while she studied him. “I was on my way out, you know. Too much crazy religion for my taste.”

“The Chantry freaks you out more than the demons?”

“I can shoot the demons. It’s frowned upon to start murdering old women squawking at me, but they are annoying.”

She wrinkled her nose in evident distaste and something flipped in his stomach. The wind picked up again and took more of the hair from her braid, whipped it across her cheeks.

He had the sudden, maddening urge to trace his gloved fingers over her jaw and tuck it back behind the shell of her ear before cupping her cheek and drawing her sweetly towards him in a passionate kiss that-

She was either far too clever for her own good or used to inspiring a chaotic inferno of lust wherever she went, because she clearly saw the direction his thoughts veered off into. And all the woman did was bit her lower lip between her teeth to stifle a laugh he was sure would be throaty and sinful.

Yeah. He definitely didn’t need to sit down next to her on the bench. He needed three feet of space between her and him at all times to stop himself from doing something stupid.

His legs didn’t get the memo.

He plopped his ass right next to her, their thighs touching teasingly, but she didn’t bother moving. Instead, she simply eyed him with a distinct blend of wariness and interest. He sensed it would take more than his roguish charm to break down that caution, but he didn’t need to do all of it now.

He was used to playing the long game, after all.

“What’s your name, Princess?”

“Cadash.” Varric’s heart leapt in triumph. That was a good name for lyrium. A very good name. It was about time he had some good luck.

Then she added the kicker. “Maria Cadash.”

Oh. Oh they had hit the fucking vein with this one. They didn’t just have Cadash clan operating in Haven, they had one of the fucking heirs to the whole pot. A winning hand, if he played it right.

“Nanna sent me a letter telling me to get the hell out of dodge before the humans blew up the sky. Again.” She smirked, shaking her head. “But I’d just gotten comfortable.”

“We can keep you quite comfortable, Princess.” Varric insisted. Maker, he had hit the nail on that head with her nickname. He had bonafide Carta royalty on his hands and he’d do well not to lose her.

She leaned forward, her shirt dipping open with the motion, drawing his eyes for just a second and making him think of other things he could have in his hands. Because he was weak. A weak, weak man.

Maria held his gaze, brought the sweet back up to her mouth, and bit into the flaky dough. His eyes flew to the sugar dusting her pretty lips. He had half a mind to lean in and kiss it off.

“You know, those are bad for you. Not a single apple actually in them, Princess.” Varric rasped.

Maria slowly licked the sugar off her bottom lip. “I only like things that are bad for me, honestly.”

Varric leapt on her admission of weakness. “Well in that case, why not supply the Inquisition? You couldn’t make a more dangerous decision if your life depended on it. Think of the rush of danger. The cloak and dagger thrill. The late night missions and secret assignations…”

He sweetened his voice to the same low, cajoling tone he’d used on templar, guards, coterie, and all the worst of Kirkwall. She watched his mouth move with rapt attention, her snack forgotten.

Varric didn’t know how his arm slipped behind her back, but suddenly his palm was on the curve of her spine in a gesture that seemed carelessly intimate. Maria didn’t pull away. Their knees touched, her chin tipped up, and for a wild moment Varric waited for her to lean in and capture his mouth.

Instead, her smile curled up like the fire they sat beside. She tore her eyes from his to look at it with a shake of her head.

“It’ll cost you.” She warned. “This is risky. Risky isn’t cheap.”

Some things were worth paying any price for, weren’t they?

“We’ll find the coin.” He promised. “And you get to stay at the center of the action, just like you want.”

Her eyebrow climbed up her forehead. “You think I want to be underneath a spiraling hole in the bleedin’ world freezing my tits off?”

“Of course you do.” He stated, picking up an abandoned mug and holding it out to her in a silent toast. “It’s gonna be a hell of a story, Princess. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Just the slightest bit of her wariness fell away, revealing a wicked glint of humor and a spark of madness he’d seen too often in a dozen other brilliant women when they had made up their mind to have an adventure with or without him.

“No.” She declared with relish. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.”

[kaaras-adaar]

The Dragon Tooth

// So I wanted it to be known that in my canon, Kaaras doesn’t get the necklace of the Kadan off a dragon he has slain. I know that that’s how the game forces you to acquire the item, but Bull never says you have to actually kill a dragon to get it.

“You FIND a dragon’s tooth, break it in half, and you each wear a piece.”

Find could mean pick up off the ground for all we know. The reason why Kaaras doesn’t go out and slay a dragon just for this tooth is because it’s not necessary. Sure, while it might be heroic in a sense and “badass”, as Bull might say, Kaaras isn’t like that. For one, he doesn’t go out killing animals for pleasure. The only reason he needs to slay a dragon is if it’s become too dangerous in the location and the Inquisition is unable to relocate it. It is a sad truth, that he has had to put one down unfortunately. However, it was a brutal task and it didn’t make him feel good either. Kaaras grew up on a farm though, so he understands that sometimes for the safety of others (the flock), then a predator must be killed (a fox that gets in the chicken pen). He was also struck by the dragon, which is why he has three long claw mark scars over his side.

Kaaras thinks dragons are beautiful creatures, and going around slaying something that was thought to be extinct goes wholly against his character. He is about preserving life, not taking it. So going out and killing a big dragon just for one tiny tooth, when he can get it elsewhere? He’s not going to do that. Also, he wouldn’t have been able to do it without Bull knowing somehow, especially since Bull is often in his party (and he wanted Bull there with that dragon fight considering his strength and experience). Bull is also caught by surprise by this notion, whether that’s because he didn’t EXPECT the Inquisitor to do it or he didn’t think they were in a serious relationship, whatever the case is, he’s a spy... he’d KNOW if Kaaras got a dragon tooth via having killed one. He’d never be able to keep this a secret. Kaaras is too easy to read, especially for someone so well trained like Bull.

Instead, Kaaras uses his contacts as Inquisitor to find a dragon tooth to purchase, off an already dead dragon. It was a difficult task, and it cost him a lot of money (I don’t feel like dragon teeth would be cheap or even common amongst merchants like wyvern teeth for instance).

Once he has the tooth, Kaaras works with the smith at Skyhold to split, shape and make into a necklace for the both of them. It’s hardly the size of what’s in the cutscene where the Inquisitor holds it in their hand. It’s been reshaped and carved down into a small pendant so the both of them can wear it without it being overly bulky and weird like in game. He also has their names carves into the small capsule that the tooth sits in (so he would wear the one that says Bull on it and Bull wears the one that says Kaaras). It’s just a little notion that the tooth is them in spirit when they aren’t together. And for Kaaras, it’s mere symbolism and romanticism of the whole idea.

Whilst Kaaras is sure that Bull would have thought it kick arse for him to have gotten it off a dead dragon that he personally killed, there’s something Kaaras finds far more romantic about the fact that he had this item shipped from across the sea and crafted into something special vs plucking it off a dead animal that wasn’t necessary to kill.

A note on the significance of a Dragon Tooth:

If Kaaras wasn’t with The Iron Bull, he wouldn’t use a dragon tooth to show his feelings for someone. For Bull, it’s a sign of being serious in a relationship, but for Kaaras, it’s a sign to show Bull that he is serious, because that’s how Bull KNOWS he’ll be serious. He could just tell him, yes, but Kaaras is more romantic than that, and he knew that this was a way Bull would completely understand how he felt for him. Love is foreign to Bull, and Kaaras knows that, so what better way to show him than something he’ll understand?

The necklace of the Kadan is utterly foreign to Kaaras. He’s not from the Qun. He’s a Vashoth who didn’t even know it was a tradition under the Qun.

Even though Kaaras as a qunari, he is not Qunari.

This is not something Kaaras would share with someone who isn’t The Iron Bull, and likely not even other qunari partners. This item is special to this relationship because of that. 

[asterian]

Crossed paths (Kanan Jarrus x reader)

Request: hi i was wondering if you could do Kanan Jarrus's reaction to there S/o being a Gray jedi that has a blue and red lightsaber and that thy learned about the force and their abilities from the bendu. Requested by @ask-oran

Words: 1,545

A/n: hi, thanks for reading my stuff 😘 I hope you like it.

"Everybody, run!" screamed Kanan turning his lightsaber on deflecting the shots from the blasters while Ezra and Sabine were rushing with the crates.

This was supposed to be an easy mission. Reports said it was an abandoned trading station with enough rations to feed the whole Phoenix squadron, without imperial security and ready to be picked, it was too good to be true.

It was an ambush.

"This way!" pointed Sabine at a another corridor shooting her blaster with one hand and holding the crate with the other "come on!"

If it would had been a couple of stormtroopers, or even a battalion the team could have stopped them with ease, but this was different. 

They had almost made it to the hangar when a dark figure was standing in the middle of the hallway, making them stop their tracks.  It was an Inquisitor, the fifth brother to be specific and after facing some of them in the past, Kanan knew sometimes it was better to run.

"Sabine, Ezra, get the boxes to the shuttle" ordered Kanan getting closer to the Inquisitor in front of them who ignited his double lightsaber in a threatening way. "I'll hold him up, hurry" he said with a confident nod. The kids obeyed and ran in another direction, taking the long way to the ship.

"It's just us now, Jedi" hissed the fifth brother before making his first attack, his weapon crushed against Kanan's with a loud crash. 

They moved around battling, it was almost like a dance, a rather deadly dance that involved very dangerous blades. Kanan did his very best to resist the thrust his opponent sword was making to the right, up, down and right again, the Fifth brother swing his blade while keeping a stone face. The poor Jedi was struggling to keep up with the attacks.

The Inquisitor was too strong and with a swift move he disarmed Kanan sending him to the floor with a strong kick on the stomach.

"Ready to die, Jedi?" warned the dark creature towering over Kanan getting the tip of the red blade  dangerously closer to his throat. Then the fifth brother raised the lightsaber into the air ready to kill the man on the floor and gave a powerful strike that was stopped midway for another red blade.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you" you spoke, owning an angry growl from the assassin.

Kanan saw you pull something out of your waist, another lightsaber. You turned it on and this time, for Kanan's surprise it was blue. A thousand questions started to run in Jarrus's mind: who was this person? What were you doing here? What were you?  A Jedi? A Sith? and most important, why were you helping him?

"Hey!" you screamed at the green eyed man who was still on the floor with a confused look. "A little help?"

Kanan shook his head and got up, attracting his own lightsaber with the force and turning it on he ran to fight by your side. 

The fifth brother was the first to attack again, this time using both sides of his red lightsaber. You rushed to the fight throwing a few attacks while Kanan took as well a few of them both coordinating to dodge the powerful thrust of the big man, it actually surprised not only you but Kanan how good you two worked together.

Finally the fifth brother started to back off, overwhelmed by the attacks he struggled to focus on both of you, he couldn't it was just too much. So he chose you as his target hitting his saber with all his strength but was stopped by your two lightsabers in front of you. Kanan saw you having problems and pushed the man with the force sending him flying through the air and  knocking down the Inquisitor. 

"He's not going to stay like that a lot" told you Kanan as you looked at the fifth brother laid inconsistent on the floor. "We should go"

You nodded at the man before speaking realizing you didn't know his name so you decided to give him yours. "I'm (y/n), by the way"

"Jarrus, Kanan Jarrus" he said offering you a hand for you to shake. When you did, you couldn't help but let yourself lost a bit in his green stare. Who was this man?

"Spectre 1, we are ready" said a girl through the comlink, breaking the moment.

"Took you long enough" he said answering his communicator "I'm on my way" he hanged up and then looked at you "my friends are coming for me, want a ride?"

You took a second to think his offer. Knowing the empire would send reinforcements and the Inquisitor would wake up soon you decided to take your chances with the Jedi, besides, the force around him was telling you to follow him.

You ran with Kanan to the hangar where his friends were waiting for him.

"Come on!" yelled a blue haired boy standing on the ramp of the ship "wow! who is this?" he said once you both were inside.

"No time to explain" snapped Kanan "Chopper, get us outta here!"

And with that, the little shuttle jumped into the blue and white spiral of the hyperspace.

After a little introduction you were bombed with questions from the small team.

"What were you doing in the station?" asked the mandalorian girl who seemed not to trust you.

"I received a transmission about an abandoned station with supplies, so I came" you explained "I never thought I would face an Inquisitor"

"I didn't thank you for helping me, without you I don't think I would have made it" spoke Kanan who was leaning on the wall of the ship.

"It was nothing" you claimed, giving him a soft smile.

"So… you are a Jedi?" Ezra questioned looking at your lightsabers hanging on your hips.

"Not exactly" you said softly. The Spectres exchanged a confused look. Kanan thought that maybe you were a padawan when order 66 came up and didn't finish your training, just like him.

"Who was your master? I don't think we knew back on the temple" he said rubbing the bad of his neck with a hand.

"I was never on the order" you assured "I was trained by the Bendu"

"What's a Bendu?" asked Ezra.

"The Jedi and Sith wield the Ashla and the Bogan, the light and the dark. He is the one in the middle" you explained the kid just how your master would have explained to someone that came his way looking for answers. 

"Sure" said the boy very confused "but who are Ashla and Bogan?" 

"Ezra" growled Kanan rubbing his eyes and letting out an irritated sigh.

This only made you laugh, and something inside the Jedi felt warm at your laughter.

•••••

Getting out of hyperspace, in Garel, piloting the ship, Sabine headed to the place the rest of the team would be waiting for them. This was time for you to go back home, and even though they tried to convince you to stay, you couldn't. So they offered to at least take somewhere you could take a ship.

"We'll be there in about ten minutes" said the girl with colored hair.

Kanan was sitting next to you, wishing you would somehow stay.

"You fight good" he said awkwardly and instantly facepalm himself in his mind.

"So you do" you responded politely.

"We could use someone like you, in the rebellion" he tried, owning a chuckle from you.

"Nah, they have you" you said looking directly into his green eyes "besides, I am not fighting an intergalactic war, not yet" 

He understood, even himself wasn't always sure about the war and where would all that lead, and knew you might need time to think before joining "the cause" , but he was sure of one thing: he didn't want you to go.

"Anyways, I would like you to come with me… I mean us-with the team" he spluttered. Looking down at his feet and blushing. You only giggled.

"Hey" you said softly placing a hand on his shoulder making him look at you "don't worry, we'll see each other again" you added and he gave you a half smile. 

"I can't land, sorry (y/n), you're gonna have to jump" you heard the mandalorian screamed when you arrived to the place.

"Thanks everyone" you said and walked towards the ramp that was slowly opening followed by Kanan.

"I guess this is goodbye" said the Jedi a bit sad when you both reached the ramp.

"I guess it is" you confirmed. He looked at you as if he was trying to memorize your features before speaking again.

"May the Force be with you" he said and you nodded in response. Before taking the last step out of the ship you turned around with a smile. 

"See you around, Kanan Jarrus" he heard you say and then you jumped out of the ship.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 28: Bow

Moths were attracted to the light, but what was attracted to the darkness?

Esredes Rosemond, a shapeshifter just like any noble, or Ishgardian for that matter. It was all the matter of the game, and while he had learned it very early, he nevertheless hated it at many times.

It was his parents that taught him one of the key mechanics of shapeshifting. When they got going, it was in his nature to argue back, to devour their words so his own may find purchase. But it was a battle that could not be won, and only made the retaliation worse. It took until he was sixteen to fully grasp the strategy involved there and his place in the world. People responded better when he was quieter, when he didn’t let his flame show, when he gave the illusion that he was fully and willingly stepping into their court with many knives under his coat. A flame, after all, burned people, and people were afraid of fire. They preferred a small flame on a candle, something they believed would not cause a house fire.

And when you presented as a mere ember on a candle, they took you through more of the house, and you got to see exactly what you were dealing with. For they could easily blow you out just like that, but you could just as easily brush up against a piece of wood and start the fire. A delicate game, for a delicate balance, and still, he hated every second of it.

Sometimes when they blew the candle out, he was simply in no position to reignite and set anything on fire. They not only blew the candle out, but they took it out of the holder entirely and snapped the wick off, perhaps even the entire candle, and then asked it to do everything for them with nothing in return.

Sometimes the split candle simply went away. Sometimes it was forced to stay.

The list of names only grew over time. Alastor, who left him after declining to help him further only to come back when he needed help. Heilyn, repeating his son’s mistakes, coming back after putting a knife to Esredes’ throat and begging for him to help get rid of an Inquisitor he set on his own ass. More towards the present, there was Pyralis, completely rude to him for trying to help him only to come back begging in the most peculiar of ways.

He set these people on fire without remorse.

The sergeant who completely humiliated him in public, the witch who thought she could come back to him for help after calling him a monster only to throw that back too, the utter psychopath that was Ivarault coming into his office, the Inquisitor who harassed him begrudgingly trying to ask his help only to then try to humiliate him further. He would set all these people on fire without remorse too, but he wasn’t a powerful enough ember to do the job. At least, not without the little candle being eviscerated completely.

But that was the role of a candle. It gave light, it set fires, it was discarded as a common household item. Candles were made to be burned out.

Esredes had seen his fair share of candles that burned much more beautifully than himself, as well, so much larger and more refined than his simple little one. And each time he saw them, he was fascinated by their presence.

Except for Ferrant, anyhow. That had been a candle that snuck up on him when he wasn’t prepared, and Esredes was afraid of being burned alive. It was hard not to, it was during one of his first trips back into the city after his pardon, he wasn’t even wearing red, and the man had just walked behind him and asked his name as if any random person would do something like that. So bright were his words, but all Esredes could focus on was the fire. I want you to work with me, had been the crux of his words. And when he told him he was uncertain he could come back to the city at all, he launched into a little rant of questions about what Esredes wanted from life, if he wanted to start a fire and do something meaningful, that he had many choices to think about. No fucking shit. Is this the life I am thinking of leading? Esredes had thought to himself in that moment. One where nobles will just take advantage of my weakness to get me to do their bidding? No, then perhaps coming back was a bad idea. Perhaps he should stick to the wilderness. Yet somehow the Lord seemed to pick up on his distress, and was quick to apologize multiple times. Ferrant was a bright candle, but he was too enthusiastic for his own good sometimes. Even still, his flame was mesmerizing despite its imperfections, and for a while Esredes perched like a moth right behind the flame of this man a few years his junior. I can’t let Ferrant down. I must prove myself to him or else. It was just his overactive mind, though, in the end. Ferrant didn’t need to be impressed, and he realized in time they were but similarly sized candles. So the moth fluttered on to other flames.

He only seemed to seek out a specific kind of candle each time. There was Kalas, the Emerald Atoner, who he recognized was not exactly a perfect flame either. But nonetheless, he had drawn him in with all the talk of how heroic Esredes seemed, how the man seemed to be able to be so open about his bloody past and instead become a public hero- how did he do something like that so perfectly? Regardless, Esredes’ heart had cold spots, and he craved the warmth brought by him. He stuck his hand right next to the flame and let the warmth be almost scorching. He would have probably burned himself, if not for the selective presence of the man limiting his exposure to the flame. And by the time he saw it again, once more, it was just a flame like any other. Kalas was a fun presence, but he was just that, a man, a friend. Esredes could feel the heat without being so close now.

There was that Au Ra knight, of all things, who had saved him from an angry loyalist in the Brume. He truly was a shining example of chivalry, something Esredes himself could only be in awe of, but he was just that, an encounter that went with the wind.

As time went on, Esredes didn’t find himself coming so close to the flames he found particularly bright as before. Here and there he stepped a little closer, but he left it at that. And then one day out of the blue, he stepped into the presence of an incredibly radiant candle. It was just a man having lunch near the Fortemps manor. Nothing more than a wave, if a man was enjoying himself, who was he to deny him the pleasure? Only for him to be addressed back by name, and given a name that was nothing but chatter around Ishgard to him before. High Inquisitor Alphinoix Luitomiere. Most Inquisitors were soulless husks, enemies for Esredes to try and bring down, but this one was a true pillar of justice and anti-corruption, perhaps one of the only true Inquisitors in existence. Yes, for as measured and polite as his demeanor was, he could see that shining silver and blue candle. It had to be one of the most bright flames he ever saw, even rivaling Ysayle herself. Still, he was absolutely going to be burned to a crisp if he got too close, no doubt about it. Righteous or not, he knew he was not exactly a holy pillar of justice himself. So he maintained his distance from the flame, only for said flame to ask him for help. To spend time in the Blue Room, away from the prying eyes and ears of Ishgard, to finally talk to someone he decided in that moment he trusted. Had the man just stepped right into Esredes’ meager flame, asking him not to burn him? So the man went to you, Esredes said. So he wanted to be a person and not a High Inquisitor, that was fine. Esredes had a task now, to treat the man as a colleague and peer, and he was going to place himself at the optimal distance from the flame. Close enough to warm one another, but far enough so he wouldn’t plunge himself right in. He told himself this over and over as the taste of flames beckoned him closer. You could expect nothing but what was given from a candle like that. It was more than enough to do one’s part to be sure it kept burning.

And when it was all said and done, there Esredes returned to candles like his own, ones he knew well. The flames of his circle of trusted associates. His flame helped light all of their wicks and keep them burning, without setting them on fire. Esredes held each candle close in his hands and fanned the delicate flames of each one.

Yes, the most comfortable candles were the ones you knew would never draw away from fueling themselves on your own fire.

—

@thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Alastor, Heilyn, Ferrant

@1emon-vii Pyralis

Kizo Lanvalloix (unnamed mention)

Sere Ymiraude (unnamed mention)

Arius Ivarault

Zenith Alphinoix

Star Brenciar (unnamed mention)

@emeraldeorzean Kalas