#it all began when leliana gave lavellan the sword

[ndostairlyrium]

It began in the courtyard

[w-h-4-t]

Oh Sweet Maker, there’s two of them

Basically @mfmoonbear​ has an OC (an elf mage named Yelisavita Lavellan) and so do I (an Qunari elf mage named Fen’Harel Adaar). Now they’re here together in a story. A n g e r y co-Inquisitor AU here. Rivalry +100.

They get along. Sometimes.

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!

***

Due to its Andrastian nature, Skyhold was more than just a battle fortress. It was also a tribute to the Maker; the garden was often peaceful as the Chantry mothers swung censures while muttering the Chant of Light. However, Skyhold was also a refuge for all kind of people, including the polytheists of the Dales. 

“DIRTHAMEN’S SHADOWY NUTSACK WHAT THE FUCK”

One such example rang through the courtyard as four pairs of feet kicked up dust mid-run. There was a race happening, as usual, between two very competitive people, both dubbed Inquisitor. Yelisavita and Fen’Harel got along well enough at first. Though their time together in Haven was drought with cat fighting they grew to mutually respect each other.

That, however, did nothing to stop their competitive nature. 

It all started as a simple ‘race you to the War Room’ which was turning into an all-out mage battle royale. Both Harel and Yel made their way up the steps leading to the Main Hall, shoving each other before Harel caught the small elf in a headlock.

“YOU CHEATING BASTARD!” she screamed, making her face as red as her Valaslin, “LET ME GO!!!”

Harel switched her tactic, looping her arms around Yel before throwing her from the steps, “Make a barrier this time else you’ll get some bad bruises!” 

Giggling like an ass, Harel continued up the stairs, hopping over several steps at a time before she felt something cold take hold of her legs. At once, the Qunari elf listed forward before catching herself, attempting to yank her legs from its new icy prison.

“You little fuckin-” Harel started.

“Fucking what? Cheater? I didn’t cheat first, remember?” Yel interjected with a smile as she jogged back up the steps, taking her time before stopping by Harel, “Aw is the Dread Wolf stuck? Do you need help puppy?”

A menacing stare shot from the half-Qunari as her body began shaking. Soon enough, the ice began hissing as little wisps of flames licked out from Harel’s skin, eating away the ice.

“I’m a mage too, you fuck,” Harel growled

Yel simply smiled, coating her hand in a slick sheet of ice before reaching up to pat the angry co-Inquisitor’s cheek, “Uh-huh, I see that. Have fun with that ice, it’s extra reinforced for shitheads like you.”

Flinching at the cold touch, Harel pulled back before focusing to burn the ice away; Yel jogged up the stairs, only turning around for one second to mouth I win.

Oh that fucking does it.

Summoning every drop of magic in her bones, Harel blasted the ice chunks away, scaring quite a few people and earning a far away cheer from someone in particular.

“BEAT HER ASS!!!!” Sera yelled from the tavern rooftop, “SORRY YEL BUT I’M ROOTIN’ FER THE TALL ONE!!!”

Hearing the aftermath, Yel turned around slowly, green eyes shining with surprise. Harel shook the chips of ice from her feet before giving her signature wide-eyed, wide grin. 

“You heard her,” Harel said as she began clomping up the stairs, “I’m gonna beat YOUR ASSSSSSSS!!!!”

Now,  Yelisavita was a powerful and highly dangerous mage. She survived a great deal of trauma and death. Crawling out of Haven’s ruins, she proved she was indeed walking in the Maker’s Light despite being an Alienage elf. 

In that moment, however, Yel was a fennec in the eyes of a hyena. One would think she’d be careful now that she’d angered the other mage.

“Says the idiot caught in a simple ice spell.” Yel antagonized before leaping away, breaking into a sprint. 

Summoning another bout of magic, Harel brought forth ice, Faade Stepping in a blue blur past the stairs and into the Main Hall. Unfortunately for Harel’s dumbass, Yel had caught on, Fade Stepping in tandem past her. 

Varric had to hold down his many Merchant’ Guild letters as the two flew past, his hands gripping the many pages tightly, “HEY! Can’t a dwarf do some paper mache in peace?”

Back to shoving each other, Harel and Yel scrapped with Yel’s hands around Harel’s horns and Harel’s own trying to push the elf away.

“NO!” they shouted together at Varric, on the same page for once.

The black bones of Harel’s horns began to smoke as Yel funnelled fire into her hands.

‘YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Harel said before finally pushing her off, “Did you just try to burn off my fucking horns??!!!”

Harel in turn pushed the office doors open, noticing the absence at the desk before breaking into a sprint. Kicking in the office exit, Harel opened the door just in time to see Yel cracking the War Room entry open. 

Using the opportunity, Yel took off once more, diving through the Ambassador’s office towards the War Room.

“GET BACK HERE!!!!”

Instead of saying some crude quip, Harel continued running, pulling magic from her body once more to Fade Step, meeting Yel halfway as she flew forward in a blue streak. The Alienage elf turned back at the last second, her green eyes once again wide in surprise as Harel leapt forward, grabbing Yel and sending them both tumbling through the door. They rolled, pulling each other’s hair and scrabbling like wet cats before someone cleared their throat.

“Good day, Inquisitors,” Cullen said, raising his voice to cut off the tail end of their argument, “I see everyone is in high spirits.”

For a moment, the two stayed the way they were with Yel’s hands around Harel’s throat and Harel’s hand pushing Yel’s face back. 

Releasing her grip, Yel pushed Harel’s face back, shoving her into the ground before getting up. She gave a great smile as she dusted herself off, moving to take her place at the War Table. 

“Good day, Commander,” she said with a smile, a light blush painting pink shades around her Valaslin. 

Cullen smiled back, gripping the pommel of his sword before looking away, also blushing just a bit.

“FUCKIN-” Harel shouted as she moved off the ground, interrupting what was supposed to be a lovely moment, “I will put my foot so far up your a-”

Another throat cleared, this time, from the very end of the War Table. 

“Harel,” Josephine assuaged, “I will kindly ask that you show a modicum of decorum. Thank you.”

Scrunching up her face, Harel looked between Yel and Josephine, at first settling on the elf’s smug grin before staring at the lovely Antivan. 

“Lucky little fuck,” Harel muttered as she took her place next to Yel, “Damn fuckin lucky that Josie’s here or else I’d-”

“You’d what? Cry at me, wolf?” Yel replied, her smug grin only growing wider.

And once again, the flames of rivalry grew, fanning into an inferno as static crackled in Harel’s palms and fire spun around Yel’s body. 

“YOU ARE NOT CHILDREN” Leliana shouted, clapping her hands, her eyes glistening like vicious sapphires, “So for Andraste’s sake, stop fighting like infants! Behave yourself!”

Yel and Harel differed in many ways but there was one thing they agreed on. Leliana was scary and when that Orlesian had enough of their shit, it was time to stand straight, shut up and do their job.

“E-emerald Graves,” Harel stuttered, looking at Yel, “Thinking we could go to the Graves to do...do that thing…”

Yel nodded before staring at the map, trying her best not to look up at Leliana, “We should go to the Hissing Waste’s actually but sure….sure….The Graves sounds...important too.” 

At the opposite end of the table, Josephine sidled up to Cullen, finishing the last flourish of her letter before whispering, “ Our paramours continue to be interesting, do they not?” she dips the quill in ink, writing another line, “However, it would be preferable if they did not fight so much. It is indeed troubling for our reputation when they scrap in the public eye.”

Cullen sighs as he looks at Yel, watching her brush back a strand of strawberry blonde hair before pushing a map marker away from Harel’s hand, “ They’re not so bad, Ambassador. My sisters and I fought in a similar way, but because we hated each other. I think they’ll be fine.”

Turning away from her clipboard, Josephine looked at Harel who continued trying to pick up the map marker, only to have it shoved away, “Perhaps you are correct. Maybe they are growing to be friends.”

“IF YOU PUSH THAT MARKER ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR ON ANDRUIL’S SWEATY TIT’S I’LL SKIN YOU ALIVE!!!!”

“Oh, you want to lose again, pup? Don’t go crying to your prissy little bedbuddy -I mean no disrespect Ambassador- ” Yel stops for a moment, looking at Josephine before turning to Harel once more, “when I tan your hide faster than you can say Mythal.”

“Inquisitor-” Cullen starts before Harel shoots a glare at him.

“Don’t even try it, Curly!” 

“DON’T TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!” Yel shouts back, giving the taller half-elf a shove.

And once more, a fight broke out in the War Room as all three Advisors watched the pair roll around on the floor. One would say they were akin to a wolf and a lioness fighting when in fact they were just two aggressive nugs duking it out.

Today was just one of those days where they didn’t get along more than usual. Hopefully, soon they’d be back to some kind of mutual idiocy with Yel on Harel’s shoulders, steering the half-Qunari around by the horns before they’d both fall down some hill.  

Josephine and Cullen, though different in many aspects both thought the same thing as they watched their other halves fight.

Maker help me and my competitive girlfriend. 

[experimentalmadness]

Show Off (Inquisitor/Cullen)

Cullen watches the Inquisitor train and decides to enter the ring himself. 

(Y’all if anyone remembers my Yael Lavellan, I got inspired to do another one-shot after 8 million years. Yeehaw.) 

Watching the Inquisitor train was something of a spectacle in Skyhold. A small gathering had formed along the pen’s outer fence and all the southside battlements had a cluster of soldiers who were supposed to be on their morning rotation. 

It took the three women a whole half minute before they noticed their Commander staring down at them. Cullen had to bite his lip as they rattled in their armor, shuffled a salute, and waited with stiff-necked anxiety at his chastisement. His gaze slipped from them to the commotion down below. He did not even attempt to hide his smile. 

“I hear there’s a bet going on in the barracks,” Cullen said, folding his arms behind his back. “Collects at the end of the week. Fifty silver so far on the Inquisitor. Safe bet, I imagine.”

The soldiers didn’t dare answer him even as he chuckled a little despite himself. “At ease before you strain something.” All three women breathed out a sigh that only mildly reminded Cullen of a broken bellows. “You’re not going to be stripped of rank for admiring your Inquisitor.”

If that were the case he’d have been demoted months ago, he thought as he watched a great gout of flame erupt over the training pen. 

“Yes, sir, thank you sir,” the soldiers announced in unison. 

He quirked an eyebrow up at they continued standing motionless before him. “However, if I don’t see you at your posts within the hour I’ll be sure to inform the Inquisitor. I’m sure she would love nothing more than to indulge all three of you in a few up close rounds of combat drills.”

The soldiers had already begun to take off with great haste before he could even finish the thought. There was a reason Yael kept her training within that of her inner circle and not the rank and file of her army. No one wanted to face her. No one with sense at any rate. 

A laugh echoed up from the courtyard, barking mad and crackling with magic. Yael wielded a staff in one hand and her astral blade in the other, keeping up a steady rhythm against Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Dorian. Fire flickered around her, singeing the ground black wherever she stepped. It roared out of her as natural as breath, Cullen doubted she was even aware of it. 

It wasn’t that she was the best fighter, nor even the most skilled mage. There was a primal energy in Yael’s attacks. Something unpredictable and even harder to control. Even if she hadn’t been a mage, Cullen thought, she would have still been this fierce warrior—the tempest at the heart of the battlefield. 

A splintering crack shattered his thoughts as Cassandra careened through the fence posts. The onlookers scrambled to get out of the way, even Yael paused to regain control over herself. It was only when Cassandra dusted herself off and gave Yael a reassuring nod that the Inquisitor let out another satisfied barking laugh, reignited her flames, and turned to the others. “One down two more to go!”

Thank the Maker she was on their side! Cullen abandoned his vantage point up on the battlements, giving his head a little shake as he walked down the steps towards the training yard. He remembered seeing her for the first time when the sky had been newly torn; surrounded on all sides by every kind of demon. And she had charged in, a sleep-deprived, terrified prisoner, raining fire down on every wraith and shade. Not knowing who she was fully he had had the idea of making sure Cassandra recruited her into their ranks. It wasn’t until he had made his way back to the forward camp that he fully processed who she was. Odd thing, but he couldn’t remember ever thinking she had anything other than good intentions even when all he had seen of her was that now infamous battle-lit face and a handful of fire. 

He made it down the stairs just in time to see Iron Bull sweep his great axe under Yael’s feet and lay her flat on her back. The cringe from the onlookers told him just how much lighter the purses of a few attendants would be in the coming days. Dorian leaned against his staff, shaking with quiet laughter as Bull offered Yael a hand up. Maker, the scowl she had on her face!

“That’s why I keep telling you t’ keep that guard up, Boss.”

“I always have my guard up.”

“Lying in front of the troops is hardly the most inspiring thing,” Cullen laughed as he approached the fence. 

Tendrils of smoke curled up and over Yael’s shoulders as the flames extinguished from around her. The scowl was now aimed specifically at him, but a clap from Bull’s hand to her back choked it right off. “Good fight,” he said. “Let’s see if you can’t kick my ass tomorrow.”

Yael punched his arm. “They’ll be putting your body in an ashtray, Bull.” But there was no bite behind her words. 

Bull and Dorian disperessed with the rest of the thinning crowd, Bull’s laugh trailing off behind him as he and Dorian made for the tavern. He offered them both a friendly wave as they departed; Dorian responded with a mock salute. He’d be seeing the mage later at their usual afternoon appointment in the gardens. If Yael couldn’t best him on the field today at least he could win her a modicum of revenge on the chessboard. 

“Hope you didn’t lose too much money on my account,” Yael divested herself of her coat, hanging it up on the post before going over to the water barrel. She practically dunked her full head into it, not caring in the least if she soaked her tunic and jerkin. 

“What makes you think I was betting on you?” 

Cullen invited himself over the fence, tossing a dry cloth to Yael just as she turned, dripping, back around. That remark earned him a genuine smile, he could always tell by the sight of her sharpened canines. A wolf’s smile. 

She scrubbed at her face, dust and a bit of soot staining the cloth as she tossed it over the side of the barrel. “Are you truly done?” Cullen asked. “You look as if you could have gone for at least several more rounds.”

“Truth be told I could potentially convince Sera or Vivienne to join me for another bout, but,” she shrugged, “perhaps that will have to wait until later.”

Much later if he recalled the Inquisitor’s schedule for the day. A meeting with Leliana for a brief update on their agents in the field and then it was to be in and out of diplomatic meetings with Josephine for the rest of the afternoon as the delegates from Neverra and Antiva arrived. Cullen could already see Yael’s impatience. By the time she’d be out of doors again it would be well into the evening and the sun would be long gone from the sky. 

Cullen had drawn his sword before giving it another thought. “I’m not nearly as unpredictable a fighter as Sera, nor do I claim to have as much finesse as Madame Vivienne, but I hope you’ll consider me a worthy replacement nonetheless.”

“You can’t be serious,” she laughed, hands at her hips. 

“And why not? I command your armies for a reason, Inquisitor.”

“Cullen,” laughter was still rumbling through her. Green eyes glinting with just that rare bit of warmth. “Creators, I think the last time we ever sparred was back in Haven. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I…”

“Send me flying out of the ring and into the snow? Yes thank you, my bones still remember that one. All the more reason for us to take the time now.”

Yael rolled her eyes, but Cullen saw her hand whisper over the sword at her belt. “I thought you had a policy on stifling the barrack room gossip.” She picked up her staff, but did not ignite it with her fire. 

“Some things are worth the whispers.”

He charged her, thinking to use her hesitation against her, but Yael merely sidestepped out of the way. Nearly had him, but he corrected before he could throw himself out of the ring. He pivoted, blade spinning in his hand with a flourish that had Yael centering her stance. Their weapons met, but there were no sparks, no gouts of magic from the iron, nor smoke emanating from the Inquisitor. Cullen gritted his teeth and pushed her back. 

Yael yielded to the movement with a calculating look in her eyes. She feinted to the left, but Cullen knew her too well and did not let her goad him on. 

It was one thing to watch the Inquisitor fight, it was another to join her. For weeks now Vivienne and Leliana had been teaching Yael Orlesian dances for the upcoming ball in Halamshiral and she took to them about as easy as a fish to the air. Yet here she was at her most elegant. Although, Cullen admitted with a low grunt of frustration as she nearly disarmed him, he wished she would stop toying with him. 

“Come on then, Yael,” he crossed swords with her. “You know you can’t win strike for strike.”

She said nothing in return. Her face was bathed in sweat as she concentrated, staring hard at Cullen’s stance, the hilt of his blade, the tells in his eyes. Eventually Cullen lowered his guard. “What are you doing?”

“Training like you asked,” Yael huffed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “What’s the matter? Yielding so soon?”

“Waiting for you to fight me properly,” he shook his head. “You’re as stiff as a board. Stilted. Ready to be knocked over at the slightest push. No wonder Bull bested you.”

There it was! The spark that he had wanted to see at the beginning. Smoke began coiling about Yael’s shoulders and embers broke out over the blade of her short sword. Cullen readied himself. “Again, Inquisitor,” he smiled. 

For a heartbeat he tangled with the real Inquisitor as smoke and flame enveloped them both and he felt that wild and wonderful pulse of her magic. She brought her astral blade fully to bear, pushing with magical force until she found her opening. 

Cullen could see in her eyes that she had him. He moved to correct but even before he could guard against her attack he felt the magic dissipate. The vicious look in Yael’s eyes evaporated and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the arena. She continued her attack, but she merely met the plates of his armor like a new recruit would tap the stuffed training dummies in the yard.

“Checkmate,” Yael grinned. She twirled her sword in her hand and stepped back. “What?” she averted her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Forgive me, but by rights you should have had me out of the ring yet you held back.” 

“I never hold back.”

He fixed her with a withering look until she began to fidget in the silence. Turning on her heel she marched back over to the water basin. “Leliana is likely to have my head if I’m late for another meeting.”

“Yael.”

He followed directly behind her, sheathing his sword and watching as she stiltedly washed up. She pulled on her coat and adjusted its collar. Turning back to face him a glowing fireball emerged in the palm of her hand, rotating harmlessly as Yael regarded it with a controlled stare. “My magic is…” she tossed the fire from one hand to the other, little lines of lightning orbiting around it. “Volatile. I’ve always been a pathetic healer, useless with spirit magics, but the elements? They come to me naturally. And they are not always harmless.”

“As our enemies have come to fear,” Cullen couldn’t hide the pride in his voice if he tried, so why did Yael look suddenly so very ashamed? 

With a wave of her hand the fire extinguished in her palm. “Yes, but not you.” Those fierce, blazing green eyes held him transfixed. “My magic isn’t made to hurt you.”

Cullen closed the space between them with a kiss, muffling Yael’s gasp of surprise. Her skin was hot to the touch from her recent firespell and he could taste the after-spark of embers. He didn’t care who saw them in the training yard. Yael pressed a hand to his cheek, her surprise turning into wicked abandon. “Oh dear,” she whispered as she parted for air. “So much for silencing the gossip.”

“I love you,” he kissed the tip of her nose causing her to flinch and laugh. Her dark cheeks going that much darker at his words. The edge in her eyes softening ever so slightly though he knew she’d deny it profusely if he pointed it out. “All of you. Including your magic. Promise you won’t hold yourself back from me?”

She raised one eyebrow, interlacing her fingers with his, pressing a single kiss to the back of his hand. “Even if it means showing you up in front of your own troops?”

Cullen laughed. “Even that.”

[reveriesramblings-blog]

Path Of The Arrow

                               A Lavellan And Harding Love Story

    A fanfiction depicting a personal headcanon of my Lavellan playthrough in the Dragon Age:Inqusition franchise. The Inquisitor struggles to integrate into a new life, but finds a familiar comfort in new friends and a possible new love. As he becomes the new shining face of Thedas, he learns that there is more to life than running away...

  This will be a series I’ll be updating every Saturday or so. Of course, I do not own the rights to the Dragon Age or the characters! This is purely for entertainment purposes. Some quotes/ dialogue were taken from the game.

                                                  Credits

A quick thanks to Dragon Age Wiki for a guide on elven cipher! FenxShiral for  reference.                                                WARNINGS    Please note that this series is 18+ for adult language and themes! Further warnings include PTSD, depression, violence, blood, possible gore, some sexual content, death, etc. Please message me privately if you have any other concerns.

Just a final note: I’m new to tumblr, so please have mercy while I learn the proper tag/edit system! I edit to the best of my ability and I’m here to share my imagination as well as improve my creative writing abilities.

                                                   Enjoy!

Elven translations: 

Lethallen (pl) - one who is familiar; usually a friendly title given from one elf to another. Similar to kin.

Shemlen/shems - quicklings; unfavorable name for humans

Mala suledin nadas - You shall endure

Falon'Din enasal enaste - An elven prayer for the dead

Vhenan -Heart; term of endearment

Ma vhenan - my heart; my love

Ir abelas - I'm sorry

Ma melava halani - you helped me

Ir tel'him - I'm me again

Ma serannas - thank you

                                                                                Chapter 1: Severed Roots

    A herd of Halla; pounding hooves against the lush earth of the Planasene Forest floor, in which he was never allowed to be in. The echo of these sacred beasts swirled around Larkin’s head as a memory, tucking the past back into a far corner in his mind. Once he was a respected hunter among his clan, providing food to ensure the survival of his Lethallen; his kin. Now, he was about to embark on a new path with a new name: The Herald of Andraste, they called him. The one who fell out of The Fade and was sent by Andraste herself to close The Breach that wounded the sky. 

“What a large burden to carry, and it’s only gonna get heavier.” Varric pitied him in private when they had a moment to breathe. Privacy was a luxury now that everyone and everything demanded his attention: “Your Worship, please look over these marching orders?” this, “Herald, I need your response to the Chantry by the end of the daylight,” that. He knew nothing of politics and pleasantries and suddenly he was the face of a controversial organization as well as an entire religion that he did not want. Few perks there were so far, but one of them included the few moments he could spend in playful banter with the Dwarf  gave him some sense of relief. A new world and a new life among the shemlens -- not one he would have chosen for himself. The elf was perfectly content running from them in The Free Marches as it were; nothing could have prepared him for so many concentrated in one area. They smelled weird, the food was strange, but there was no denying the honest hospitality. Larkin couldn’t help but wonder though: would it be different if he weren’t their so - called martyr? Would he be exploited and shunned as all other Dalish were in human company?

“Mala suledin nadas…” he uttered under his breath as his eyes searched the aching mark on his hand, possibly for more answers. He lifted the glowing scar to the sky, replicating the moment he first closed a rift as if it would give him some profound knowledge on how to close The Breach; but alas, there were no voices in his mind. 

Another chimed into his ears instead, “Master Lavellan” a familiar voice requested his attention. What else was new? The Herald had half a mind to turn toward the speaker in annoyance, but took a moment to collect himself. Of course it was Cassandra who came and interrupted his much needed quiet time. “Ahem,” she cleared her throat but made no hesitation in addressing the task at hand; he hadn’t known her for long but he could tell that this was going to become a regular occurrence -- he should’ve just accepted it then and there. “My apologies on the sudden...intrusion…” She wasn’t really sorry, “Your presence is needed in the council, my Lord. Leliana and Cullen have a few suggestions on how to get things moving. We need to head into the Hinterlands as soon as possible to seek out Mother Giselle and ask for her aid. I have come to escort you.” 

With a deep sigh, the Herald stood up from the stone fencing and turned to her with a reluctant nod “I suppose I can’t just sit this one out?” 

Cassandra gave him a judgmental squint but held her tongue from expressing her true thoughts on his sarcasm. “Need I remind you of what’s at stake here?” She paused and her mood seemed to shift, "I understand that you didn’t ask for any of this, but now that you’re here...you’re our only option for the time being. I can’t promise that it will be easy, but I can promise that you won’t be alone in this…” her voice trailed at the end into a softer note as if she was trying her best to express compassion or something of the sort. “I understand, Cassandra, and I appreciate your willingness to uphold your duty.” Silence fell between them. It wasn’t meant to sound curt, nevertheless, the words cut and he could see that it slightly bothered her. He pursed his lips together in regret “I didn’t mean for that to--” “Let’s just...get this over with.” The Seeker turned to leave and head toward the Chantry but stopped for a moment to turn and look at him with a small smirk, waiting for him to follow.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The briefing appeared to be simple enough: ask for The Revered Mother’s assistance and look for opportunities to establish the Inquisition’s presence. Unbeknownst to any of them, the Hinterlands was ass-deep in chaos and it would be far from easy. The mages and templars were practically at war, putting all the refugees nearby in danger. People were starving, cold, dying and nature was being destroyed by seemingly random fires. Lowly bandits took advantage of the conditions and began to claim passages, making it harder for Inquisition soldiers to do their job. To top it all off, demons were crawling about from opened rifts; just more reasons to need a savior. Larkin surveyed the crossroads from the hilltop with dread in the pit of his stomach. The air carried a slight chill through his chestnut hair and smelled of pine, which reminded him of home. Bittersweet memories cut short by the sight of humans cutting each other down...like always. How the fuck was all of this happening so fast? He gripped his stomach and swallowed hard, stepping down from a tall rock that overlooked the plains. Varric caught a glimpse of the elf’s anxiety, offering an awkward grimace; he knew he and the Inquisitor were feeling the same sense of fuck this. If it were that easy to walk away, Varric wouldn’t be far behind him. The Herald stepped into camp among all the hustle and bustle of recruits trying to multitask between gathering supplies and an array of other important things. All he could hear was the babbling of side conversations and metal clanking from swords and arms being forged and repaired. Larkin’s attention was pulled left and right again the minute he arrived, until Cassandra rescued him by taking his arm and pulling him aside. Varric and Solas accompanied them as well to take a breather. “There’s something that needs your attention --” she began and was readily cut off by Varric. 

“Give him a minute, Seeker...He just got here.” He threw his hands up in frustration with her too urgent attitude. “Wouldn’t it be wise to let the one person that can actually fix all this shit take a small break? You know -- Just so we don’t break him before it starts getting tough?” Solas butted in with his two cents. “Ideal, not wise, Varric.” 

“Thanks, Chuckles.” The dwarf shook his head “The Herald of Andraste succumbing to a nap every once in a while? Perish the thought…” Larkin attempted to joke. At least Varric was amused. "What? Just trying to ease the tension a little. I’ll be fine…we’ll be fine.”

“Your Worship?” a soft feminine voice called to the group, singling them out from the rest of the camp. A Dwarven female approached them with a friendly and professional air about her. Her soft-looking red hair was tied up and out of her face; pale skin, but her cheeks were no stranger to the sun. Freckles decorated her face, giving her a rather youthful appearance despite the scar running down the left side of her cheek. 

“Scout Harding, at your service.” She paused for a moment to give Larkin a good look-over. He was tall, but that was mostly because she was a dwarf of course. Here he was: Andraste’s chosen in the flesh; he looked even more noble than the stories portrayed him to be. The view wasn’t so bad either. If her eyes could’ve opened any wider they would. 

“Pleased to meet you” he simply said, unsure of how he should address her just yet.

“Wow” she awed, he breath taken from her, “I can’t believe it’s really you. I’ve heard the stories; you should know how grateful everyone is for what you’re doing.” A small, toothy smirk appeared on Larkin’s face “I’m starting to worry about all these stories everyone’s been hearing.” This comment brought a chime of laughter from the scout, causing her to clear her throat once she realized that it might come across as inappropriate. “ Well, they only say you’re the last great hope of Thedas.” She grimaced. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that… “Oh, great.” he pursed his lips.

“Aaaanyway, you already have your briefing, I should let you get to work.” She handed Larkin a scroll tied with twine “A map.” she smiled softly but with an awkward note. “Maker guide you.” 

Harding wandered off to attend to other matters; a recruit already scrambling after her with questions. She left a small smile on Larkin’s face, his eyes refused to separate from her as he held the map limply in his hand. It wasn't until he felt eyes on him that he looked to his companions and then turned to make his way out of the camp. "Right," he cleared his throat "to work then." All four of them marched away from the camp, following the sounds of distant fighting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Falon’Din enasal enaste…” Larkin whispered slightly out of breath over the corpse of an elven mage. He was careful to keep his first language out of earshot as a subconscious reflex. However it didn’t escape Solas’s impeccable hearing; the elven prayer for the dead caused him to eye the Herald curiously and smirk snarkily. Larkin tried to ignore the eyes on him and examined the blood on his gloves and felt slightly dizzy. He must’ve lost his footing at some point because the next thing he knew, he was on the ground, facing the sky above him. He felt hands gripping him tightly; everything was spinning and then what was a clear day turned into inky darkness.  A gentle hand pressed against Larkin’s cheek and his eyes slowly opened to see a blurry but familiar figure above him. The sound of trees swaying in the breeze; birds chirping in the early morning sun. “Vhenan...” the words were clear, but the voice was obscured and almost unrecognizable, but he didn’t need to know. He could feel who the voice belonged to by the nature of his touch. Larkin’s eyes squinted as the sun’s light bore into the spectre and he placed his own hand on top of the one cupping his cheek. “Ma Vhenan” Larkin repeated, his voice barely audible. “Ir abelas..” “Ma melava halani...Ir tel’him...ma serannas…” The voice began to fade. 

Larkin began to squirm in his fur lined bedroll, feverishly chanting elven over and over until his eyes shot open and he woke in a cold sweat. The hand he gripped in his dream was not a past lover, but belonged to a healer instead. She stared down at him, frozen in place as she did not dare to try and pry her hand free, afraid he might lose it even more. Within just a moment more she caught a grip and placed her free hand on his other cheek, smiling gently. “Your Worship, please, rest easy. Everything’s going to be alright. You’re safe in your tent.” her Orlesian accent was thick. The Chantry sister placed a cold rag on the elf’s forehead, hushing him gently. “Sleep. I will inform your companions that you have the day off.” He didn’t pay much attention to when the sister left his tent, he was more focused in undressing as soon as possible --his clothes were drenched in sweat. As promised, no one entered his tent for the remainder of the day, but rest would not come easily to him. He gently rolled over to his side and out of bed, standing on his bare feet in one motion. Larkin opened the flap of the tent door, letting the cool air of the night hit his face as he paused to take a deep breath. Nice and cool. He kept his pants on and wore a loose tunic to spare the camp of an accidental nude elf sighting; they weren’t that friendly yet. The corner of his eye caught the toe of one of his boots, choosing to leave those behind. His feet deserved to be free again, and it was so worth it. The moment the pads of his toes felt the grass, he let out a relieved groan, closing his eyes as he flexed his feet to caress the ground. Before anyone could see him, he took off into the nearby trees, running as fast as he could to pick up the wind and feel it against his lithe frame, only stopping when he was finally out of breath. His short frolicking led him back to the overlook where he first stopped when they arrived in the Hinterlands. Just slightly tired, he sat down and let his feet dangle over the edge of the cliff and looked up at the face of the full moon that lit up the night. 

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Larkin practically whipped his head around feeling slightly defensive, his shoulders tensed, but dropped again when she stepped more into the light. 

“Scout Harding?” Larkin confirmed softly and released a small amount of breath.

“You sound surprised.” She smirked but then looked a little concerned as her voice wavered slightly. “What are you doing out here anyway, aren’t you supposed to be resting? Healer’s orders you know…” Harding took a seat beside him with respectable space in between them. Her concern brought a soft grin to his face “Aren’t you supposed to be resting yourself? Thanks for the concern but I feel fine.” He noticed she was dressed casually, too. “You got me.” she giggled awkwardly and shifted slightly in her seat. “I was hoping you’d be out here, actually. Oh Maker, that came out strange...I mean, I wasn’t stalking you or anything like that. I just...wanted to apologize for earlier.” She brought a finger up to scratch the side of her cheek.

“Oh?” The Herald’s interest was piqued. She held his attention now. “Apologize, Whatever for?” “Oh you know,” she began “You’re only the last great hope of Thedas…” she bit her lip in regret “The last thing I wanted to do was cause you more anxiety about the situation. I know you have a lot on your plate.” “Hm…” he hummed, looking up at the moon and stayed silent on purpose, just to tease her.

"Oh, pants!" She exclaimed in frustration "Please just accept the apology!"

"Pants?" He cocked a brow and couldn't help but laugh. "I've never heard that one before!" When calm, which wasn't for a good long moment, he sighed and ended the exhale with a small chuckle. "I accept. Though, I was never offended either. Just for the record." He smiled softly at her.

Perhaps Harding focused on his lips a little too hard. The dimples that pressed into his cheeks revealed an endearing innocence in him that was rarely found in a leader. Without a moment longer she stood up on her feet.

"I should head back. Wouldn't want to miss my beauty sleep and all."

"You don't need it." Larkin turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth curling softly.

They exchanged tender looks under the stars for what seemed like an eternity.

"Good night, your Worship." Harding left him with a smile and vanished into the trees.

"I'll see you in my dreams." he said to himself now that she was gone. His eyes looked back at the moon, wondering if it felt as lonely as he did at night. 

[for-the-dales]

Chapter 11: Blackwall

Chapter 1 (Leliana): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/185692342364/the-path-forward-chapter-1-leliana

       The old Warden sat on a rock staring out at the ragtag camp shivering in the snow and sharpened his sword. He had been doing this for the past hour.

       The survivors of the attack milled around the camp trying to stay busy, but no one really knew what to do one minute to the next. No one knew what to do past the next few hours either.

       It was a mess.

       The temperature was falling with the sun but Blackwall barely noticed. He knew he should be down there trying to help the others, but if he was honest with himself he didn’t know if he had really processed what had happened either.

       The Herald of Andraste, the greatest hope for saving Thedas, was dead.

        When she had burst into the Chantry carrying a wounded Flissa, Blackwall had allowed himself to hope that they would all find a way out of this mess. Her armor was scorched and she had a nasty cut on her forehead, but she was alive. He had been gathering up the children to make sure they were all accounted for when he saw Cullen approach her. Blackwall couldn’t hear what they were saying and the little dwarven girl, Felicity, was tugging on his armor and crying. Blackwall turned away from the Herald a moment to comfort the child before turning back to watch what was happening at the front of the Chantry.

       He saw Lady Lavellan’s face fall and his blood ran cold.

       It only lasted a moment before she set her face again with a look of determination. She said a few more things to Cullen before she turned and started walking towards the door again. Cullen said called after her and Blackwall ran after them. She stopped just short of the door before turning to Cullen and saying, “I’m not going to ask anyone to come with me.”

       Blackwall didn’t know what the mission was, but he was ready, “Then it’s a good thing you don’t have to ask my lady. What’s the plan?”

       Lady Lavellan’s eyes softened as she looked at the grizzled old warrior, “I appreciate the offer Ser Blackwall, but you don’t have to come with me on this one.”

       Bull and Sera approached then and Bull asked, “Come where? You got a plan to get out of this mess boss?”

       Lady Lavellan’s eyes scanned the three of them sadly with a set line in her mouth before nodding, “There is a way to evacuate everyone in the Chantry.”

       “Great!” barked Sera, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get going!”

       Lady Lavellan sighed and smiled sadly, “Someone needs to buy time. It’ll very likely be a one way trip.”

       The small gathering went quiet and Cullen stared at the ground with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips in a harsh line. Blackwall began to open his mouth when Sera interrupted, “I said what I said. What are we waitin' for?”

       The younger elf stood as tall as she could and put her fists on her hips, but Blackwall could see them shaking slightly. Lady Lavellan could see it too and for a moment it looked like she might cry. Bull looked over Sera’s head to Blackwall and nodded, and Blackwall nodded back.

       Suddenly Blackwall hear Sahren call out behind him, “Raj’ha’haren, what’s the plan?”

       Sahren marched up to them with Rasa as his shadow. Lady Lavellan’s face went hard as stone and she took a moment before saying in a firm voice, “We have a plan to hold off the dragon, but I need the two of you to help Commander Cullen evacuate the civilians. We’ll catch up to you.”

       Sahren nodded like the good soldier he was, but his twin scrutinized their mentor’s face. Lady Lavellan turned away before Rasa could decipher anything. Blackwall understood worrying about everyone serving under you knowing everything, he also knew she was making a mistake.

       Not that Blackwall had a leg to stand on when it came to leadership.

       Sahren turned on his heel, pulling his twin with him. Lady Lavellan nodded and said, “Right, we don’t have any time to waste.” She turned to Commander Cullen, “Are you ready to move out.”

       Cullen gave a curt nod, “Yes my lady.”

       “Good, you’d best get going. It’s best if you slip out quietly I think.”

       Blackwall saw Solas out of the corner of his eyes watching the small party intently before turning and walking away. Blackwall went to get his gear when Felicity caught his eye and smiled. Blackwall smiled back and waved before donning his sword and shield. She made a funny face at the old soldier and he crossed his eyes. The child giggled as she was dragged away by an older woman trying to corral all the children.

       Blackwall decided he was comfortable with dying today. He would be following a worthy commander for once in his life. He would be saving those children.

       He would be doing something right.

       He joined the others at the entrance of the Chantry. Bull was discussing tactics with Lay Lavellan and Sera was checking her arrows. He knew it was what she did when she was nervous. He lowered his voice further and said, “You know, I think you’ll earn a beard for this.”

       Sera looked confused for a moment before barking out a laugh, “Yeah? You gonna give me one of yours?”

       “I may,” Blackwall said seriously, “but just the one.”

       Sera laugh again as Lady Lavellan approached them asking, “Ready?”

       Sera grew quiet and bobbed her head. Lady Lavellan looked at Blackwall and he nodded sharply. The Herald nodded back at the two of them and said, “Well then. Let’s get going.”

       She pulled out her staff and Bull pulled out his massive cleaver and set his shoulder against the door.

       “Okay,” The qunari said, “I’m gonna open this door, the boss is gonna blast whatever is outside back as far as she can, then Blackwall needs to take point and keep them back while the boss and Sera get through the door. After that I’ll get the door closed which Cullen will barricade behind us. Then I’ll cover the boss’s right and Blackwall you’ll cover her left. Sera, you provide support and make sure we don’t get surprised by anything. We need to get to the trebuchet that’s still standing and hurl something big and heavy at the mountain. Everyone got that?”

       Everyone nodded. Blackwall noticed that Cassandra had gotten most of the people out of the main hall and was arguing with Cullen. They both looked up and Cullen nodded while Cassandra’s face fell in horror. Cullen must have just filled her in, he was holding Cassandra’s arm.

       Lady Lavellan commanded quickly, “Bull now.”

       Bull heaved the door open and everything began to move much faster. Fire erupted from Lady Lavellan’s staff, throwing back the few red templars patrolling past the door. Blackwall charged forward and slammed his shield into a knight that had kept his footing. He heard Lady Lavellan and Sera run out behind him and he saw vines spring from the ground and hold down a footsoldier still on the ground as an arrow struck the head of another starting to get up. The heavy wooden doors slammed shut behind them and Blackwall could faintly hear Cassandra yelling angrily on the other side of them, but they were drowned out by the screams of the footsoldier being held down as Bull’s axe came down across his torso.

       The four of them slowly worked their way through Haven and towards the trebuchet, but the soldiers never seemed to stop coming. A group of four knights jumped over a section of crumpled wall, cutting them off. He glanced to his right and saw the grim set of Bull’s face. Lady Lavellan began to cast a barrier spell to try and give them all an edge.

       Blackwall hadn’t seen the shadow warrior coming up behind the Herald.

       Everything seemed to slow as he saw the creature bring up it’s twin blades right behind her. Blackwall wasn’t close enough to do anything and Sera hadn’t noticed it. Blackwall cried out for her to look out, but then the creature froze.

       Lady Lavellan turned quickly and was greeted by an icy blade less than an inch from her face. Then the knight furthest back in the group crumpled to the ground without warning.

       Rasa stood behind him with their bloody knives drawn and mockingly bowed to their mentor before spinning away towards the next knight. Sera and Bull jumped back in to help the rogue. Solas strolled up next to Lady Lavellan and twisting his staff in a precise movement, shattering the shadow.

       Solas smiled at the other elf, “I didn’t think you’d want them coming on their own. I convinced Sahren to go ahead to rondevu point.”

       “You convinced Sahren to do something?” Lady Lavellan asked, smiling back.

       “I can be very charming.”

       Lady Lavellan smiled at him in a way that made Blackwall feel like he was prying. He turned back to the battle and helped Rasa bring down a knight. He felt heat behind him and turned to see Lady Lavellan torching the last one while Solas kept it down with some unseen force.

       Blackwall huffed behind them, “Phew, smells like Sera’s cooking.”

       Sera held her nose, “Ugh, it does.”

       Rasa glided up to Lady Lavellan’s other side and bumped her shoulder lightly. Lady Lavellan turned to them and murmured to them so quietly Blackwall could barely hear her, “You do what I say, when I say.”

       Rasa nodded curtly.

       The party continued forward to the trebuchet. When they arrived it was blessedly clear of enemies. There was already a stone loaded into the contraption.

       There were a lot of dead soldiers around its base.

       Lady Lavellan stared at the young faces. The oldest was the furthest out, likely having led the charge to defend the trebuchet. At the base was a boy who couldn’t have been older than fourteen. His unblemished sword lay near him. His face was frozen in agony.

       Blackwall laid a hand on the Herald’s shoulder, “There’s nothing you can do for them now. But we can still help those they loved.”

       Lady Lavellan nodded and strode forward to the trebuchet and Blackwall followed. The others set up a defensive line around the perimeter in case any more templars appeared. Lady Lavellan grunted in effort as she pushed against the large wheel to turn the trebuchet. She was a strong woman, but mages rarely had cause to build physical strength.

       Blackwall whispered softly next to her, “If I may be of assistance Herald?”

       Lady Lavellan looked up at him and smiled before nodding. Blackwall took position next to her and began to turn the wheel with her. A few templar stragglers approached while they worked, but they were nothing that the others couldn’t handle. When the massive machine was finally aimed Blackwall took a step back to look at the mountain it would hit. The bright and cold snow stared down at him, and for the first time since he had walked out of the Chantry this evening Blackwall felt a little fear crawl up his spine.

       Lady Lavellan stared with him for a moment before turning to address the others, “All right, I’m going fire this and then we run. If we move fast enough we should be able to reach the Chantry and get into the hidden tunnel before the avalanche reaches us. Be ready to move. Leave anything weighing you down here if you can live without it.”

       The others nodded and began to prepare themselves. Blackwall removed his shield and placed it on the body of the young boy. Blackwall knew what the odds were of them all reaching the Chantry in time, but the Herald had a way of speaking with confidence that made it sound more likely than it really was. She believed they would make, so he would believe her.

       The Herald still stood next to him and spoke to him quietly so the others wouldn’t hear, “Blackwall, I need you to do something for me.”

       “Anything my lady.” Blackwall responded, meaning it with every bone in his body.

       “I need you to stay with Rasa, make sure they make it to the Chantry. No matter what else happens. Can you do that?”

       Blackwall studied the woman in front of him, seeing uncharacteristic fear on her face. Anyone else, Blackwall included, would have felt fear first and foremost for themselves. But not her.

       Never her.

       No, she feared for the safety of her companion, the rogue Blackwall suspected she looked at as her own child. The warrior remembered another time he saw that fear in a woman’s eyes.

       When he had been the cause.

       The boundless guilt of his past crept through him and gripped his heart like a claw. He swallowed hard and nodded, “I will protect them with my life.”

       Lady Lavellan smiled softly and looked just a little bit lighter than she had a moment before and grip on his heart loosened slightly. He would do this for her.

       Blackwall watched her walk up the platform to inspect the winch before he turned to join the others. Rasa waited impatiently furthest out, their eyes scanning the tree line for any enemies that may approach. There was still an army marching towards them.

       Blackwall coughed to announce his presence, “We should stay with the others Ser.”

       Rasa scanned the treeline one more time before turning back and nodding. Blackwall waited for them to walk past him before following. They rejoined the others where Iron Bull and Solas were discussing the best possible routes back to the Chantry while Sera nervously paced back and forth. Rasa walked far more casually than the situation warranted up to Sera and rocked back on their heels. Sera glanced at the other rogue curiously.

       Rasa leaned over to Sera and said, “Ten gold says I can beat you back to the Chantry.”

       Blackwall groaned and Sera barked out a laugh, Iron Bull scoffed and said, “Those are rookie odds. I bet forty Sera wins.”

       “Oi!” Sera shouted, “What’s my share of that?”

       “Half of course.”

       Sera shrugged, “I suppose, it’s not like your fat arse could really compete anyway.”

       “Hey, my fat ass has pulled you out plenty of tight spots.”

       Blackwall couldn’t help but grin. He glanced over at Solas and his grin fell. The oldest elf in their company didn’t smile or laugh. He hadn’t chosen to forget the real stakes.

       No one heard the roar before it was too late.

       The massive black and red beast crashed into the ground with such force Blackwall was thrown back against one of the remaining walls surrounding Haven. As soon as his vision cleared he searched for the others. Iron Bull was helping up Sera and Solas stood next to them. Rasa had fallen next to them and Blackwall ran to help them up. He glanced around and realized one of their company was missing.

       The Herald.

       His head whipped over to where the trebuchet still stood.

       On the other side of the dragon.

       Lady Lavellan caught his eye. She looked a little shaken, but uninjured. Her eyes slid from him to the elf he was holding up and her eyes widened. Blackwall couldn’t hear her over the roar of the dragon and the ringing in his ears but sudden determination in her eyes and her mouthed word made her orders clear.

       Run.

       Rasa could barely stand but tried to fall forward toward the Herald and cried out, “Mae!”

       For the briefest of moments Blackwall could see Lady Lavellan’s eyes shine and crinkle before his view was obstructed by the beast. Time seemed to slow as he came to his decision. He grabbed the rogue and tossed them over his shoulder. He looked at Iron Bull whose eye was tight as he nodded. He pulled Sera along as she yelled and spat at him. Solas didn’t look at him and just stared at the dragon. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes flitted around, his fingers tightening and loosening. It was likely only seconds had passed, but it felt like hours before Solas finally turned and followed after Iron Bull with Blackwall tailing him. Rasa was still screeching and beating at him, but their likely broken leg kept them from wriggling too much.

       Blackwall heard another voice for the briefest moment on the other side of the dragon before he was out of earshot. When the group reached the top of the hill just outside the Chantry doors they heard the trebuchet fire. Blackwall spared a moment to turn and watch the boulder hit the mountain side.

       Exactly where he and the Herald had planned for it to go.

       The snow began to slide down the slope and the sight spurred him to move again. Solas had opened the doors and slammed them shut as soon as Blackwall and Iron Bull had gotten the other elves through. The rest of the journey to catch up with the rest of the Inquisition was silent. Blackwall still had to carry Rasa but the rogue had gone startling silent. Sera had screamed and yelled for a while before she too seemed to run out of energy.

       They were all alone to grapple with what they had done.

       Blackwall had to grapple with what he had done.

       He had left Andraste’s Herald to die.

       He had abandoned her.

       He looked down at Rasa in his arms and tried to remember that she had asked him to keep them safe. He had just been keeping his promise.

       That didn’t make the guilt’s vice grip on his heart loosen.

       Now he sat on a rock overlooking the camp, as useless as he had been when the dragon showed up. He should have given Rasa to Iron Bull and gone to defend her. As time passed and the panic settled he had more time to think of everything he should have done. Every other better path he could have taken.

       How many great people’s deaths would he be responsible for before his own end.

       Blackwall buried his head in his head in his head and let himself sob for the first time in a long time. He thought this time would be different. She had been everything a leader should be. Kind, brave, clever, and wise. Too many had one of those traits, and too few had all. She had put her faith in him and he had found her deserving of his. She could have accomplished great things, changed the world.

       And he had let her die.

       Suddenly there were shouts from the camp below. Blackwall looked up and saw a group run up to a few people emerging from the gap in the mountain they had made their camp against. Blackwall squinted to see and saw it was Commander Cullen and Seeker Pentaghast, and the commander seemed to be carrying something.

       Someone.

The person’s hand rested on their stomach and Blackwall's heart seized when he saw the slightest flicker of green from it.

       Blackwall fell to his news and clasped his hands.

       “Blessed Andraste, I know I have not been as faithful as I should, but if you allow your Herald to live I swear to you I will follow wherever she leads. The coldest of mountains to the most blight ridden deserts. Only death will take me from her side. I will be her counsel and her guard. You have my oath in this.”

       Blackwall paused and whispered the last part of his prayer, “Please just let her live, let her finish her work.”

Elvhen used

Mae- shortened term for mother

Hey everyone! Thanks for being patient. I was traveling for the holidays and didn't have time to finish this chapter up until yesterday. Also anyone who was excited to read the beginning of my edits (I know I was), the first two chapters have gone through edits. They aren't major plot edits, I just think they read better now. Big thank you to my editor, my brother, who works full time and is still working through this fic slowly and being very supportive. Next chapter is our last companion chapter (Cole) and then we get to Ellana! I'm really excited y'all.

Next Chapter (Cole): https://for-the-dales.tumblr.com/post/190134990889/chapter-12-cole

[sunflower-fieldy]

The Tale of Two Heralds

Hi all! My friend and I are currently writing a Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction on Archive of Our Own and I thought I’d mention it on here! 

Link: The Tale of Two Heralds by Vulpeculara, AdamantlyAdamant

Rating: Explicit

Summary: They were never meant to have the mark, and yet they both did. Together, the Lavellan sisters have to build the Inquisition and defeat that which stands in their way. Of course, it is never that simple when it is not only a Tevinter magister, but also differing opinions and complicated relationships. This story is a tale of two Heralds.

Note: This story WILL have Dragon Age: Inquisition and Dragon Age: II spoilers!!!!!

Sample below the cut. 

Repeat (Lora)

Ashilora Lavellan awoke with a gasp. Sitting up, she felt her heart rapidly thump in her chest.  Her brows furrowed as she wiped the sweat from her forehead and took in the still unfamiliar world around her.

She shook her head. Shit. It was not just a dream.

Sighing, she pushed back the wet strands of her hair and slid out of her bed, pulling off the sheets that clung to her legs. She slowly stood up. Tuning her senses to the dawning sun outside of her windows, she squinted her eyes at the dancing light.

“Another day…here.”

Another day in Haven.

Her face scrunched up as all of the recently acquired memories came rushing back in violent, engulfing waves. She allowed herself to sigh once more. With a final dissatisfying look at the mountainous outdoors, she slumped to her washroom with regret on starting a new day.

The past few weeks had been absolute hell as far as Lora was concerned. The tremendous weight of her responsibilities had shown in the new slant of her shoulders and the sudden appearance of dark rings under her eyes. She’d been called a lot of things and judged a lot of ways all because of the glowing light which now dazzled around her left hand.

The mark.

As fascinating as it was, it changed her entire world in more ways than she would’ve appreciated in only a matter of mere seconds.

Just a short time ago, she and her sister Jamie were only elves. But now they were the Heralds of Andraste, or so they had been dubbed by people over Thedas. She wasn’t sure whether or not she enjoyed such a label, but her common acts of solitude gave her enough seclusion away from anyone who ever made her consider it.

The previous days had included hours of decision-making and looking over options with enough scrutiny to give her ongoing headaches. If only she had the reasoning her sister did for fighting, then perhaps she would be more on the battlefield. Instead, she tended to view fighting as a last resort and unnecessary, and that decisions needed to be more…calculated. So, in a short time span that passed in a blurry haze within her mind, she spent the majority of her time at the war table with several new coworkers, dealing a hand in the fate of the reestablished Inquisition.

And today was to be a repeat of yesterday and the day before that: building the Inquisition’s strength.

Lora walked out of her temporary washroom, feeling refreshed and ready to tackle whatever the future was to throw at her today. She dressed herself in light armor, and left her hair to hang below her shoulders. Taking a step outside her doors, she braced herself for the chilly mountain air to collide against her face. She shivered in the breeze that brought tingles to her skin. She still wasn't used to such temperatures, and she was beginning to doubt that she ever would be.

She proceeded to walk to the side of her makeshift home and visited Falon, her pet halla, in his stable. He kicked in excitement upon seeing her and bowed his head.

“Greetings, Falon,” she said to him, “are you ready for another day?”

He jumped around his small area in response.

She smiled. “As am I.”

As the Inquisition was low on food supplies, she only partially filled his trough with leftover pickings from their army soldiers.

“Ir abelas,” she whispered as he already hungrily devoured his food. Guilt burned inside of her as she noted his already bony appearance.

When she’d finished tending to Falon, she took the quickest and least crowded route to where she would conduct her business for the day, and the entirety of the way she averted her eyes so as to avoid the stares she still was getting from those residing in Haven.

   Before the Storm (Jamie)

Jamie Lavellan sat on the high wall overlooking the soldiers who were slowly trickling out of their tents to begin another day of training. The sun was just peeking over the tree line in the distance. It had been several weeks since the Inquisition found Jamie and her sister who had barely escaped the Conclave with their lives thanks to Andraste. And now they were the Heralds of Andraste…

Jamie shook her head as she thought about this. Their lives had changed so dramatically in the past few weeks; it was hard to keep up. She knew it was even harder on her sister. Being part of the Inquisition meant dealing with people. All kinds of people. There were people like Solas, a fellow elf, who seemed to understand what the two sisters were going through, to people like Chancellor Roderick who would have rather seen the two elven sisters dead. Jamie could handle these types of people fairly well and tried to keep her sister, Lora, out of their way as much as possible.

The past few days standing around the War Table had taken its toll on Jamie almost as much as it had on Lora. While Lora was good at knowing what was best diplomatically, Jamie wanted to be out there fighting. Actually seeing the difference and not just talking about it. Those hours just standing around had made Jamie restless. Hence, why she was watching the soldiers wake up instead of sleeping like everyone else.

Fortunately for Jamie, today she was going to be leading small group to scout out the Storm Coast. There was a group out there called the Chargers lead by a qunari named the Iron Bull. Jamie figured it was worth going since they could use any allies they could get. Lora was hesitant to agree on this notion however. That wasn’t going to stop Jamie from going, but she promised her sister that she would be cautious.

Haven was now audibly gearing up for another day and the sound swords clanking together below Jamie refreshed her. However, it was because of all the noise, she did not hear footsteps approaching her.

“Sleep well?”

Jamie turned quickly to face the speaker. It was Varric who was smirking at her.

“You know, I think this is the only time I’ve been taller than you,” he commented, walking up to stand next to her.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jamie replied, leaning back on her hands.

The two looked out over the training soldiers for several silent moments. They watched as Cullen walked out onto the training grounds. Varric shifted slightly and looked at her.

“You never answered my question,” he said.

Jamie quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Did you sleep well?”

Jamie turned away from him again. “I didn’t sleep at all. These past few days have been rough, to say the least. I need to be out there, doing something! Not just sitting around planning.”

“Planning seems to be more of your sister’s thing anyway,” Varric pointed out thoughtfully. “Aren’t you headed out to the Storm Coast today with the Seeker, elf boy, and that Warden? What’s his name? Brownwall or something?”

Jamie smiled at Varric’s obvious attempts to lighten the mood. “Yes, I am going with Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall to the Storm Coast today. Maker knows I need a change of scenery.”

“Maker?” Varric asked. “Aren’t you an elf?”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s an expression,” Jamie explained. “Besides, I’m not sure if you’d recognize an elven god if it walked right up to you and stole Bianca.”

Varric looked appalled. “I’ve got nothing against you elves, but that’s taking it a bit too far!”

Before Jamie could respond, Cassandra’s voice broke in. “Herald, we are ready to travel to the Storm Coast when you are,” she said, as she, Blackwall, and Solas walked up to them. Varric’s eyes went wide when he saw Solas carrying what appeared to be Bianca.

“What are you doing with Bianca?!” he exclaimed. Solas looked impassive as he handed over Varric’s pride and joy.

“I found it propped up against the wall outside the tavern. I took it upon myself to return it to you,” Solas answered easily. Varric huffed his thanks and stomped away.

Jamie stood and turned to her companions. “We need to get to the Storm Coast as fast as possible. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get back. Mother Giselle thinks it best that we go to Val Royeaux to appeal to the Chantry.”

“Leliana wanted to speak to us before we go,” Cassandra said as they began walking towards the Haven Chantry.

Jamie rolled her shoulders. “She’d better make it quick."

[moonmythology]

What it Feels Like to Be Human --Chapter 3: A Dalish Promise

Synopsis: Athdhea Lavellan always wanted to find out what it means to be human. Becoming the Herald of Andraste taught her to be careful of what one wishes for. So far away from home, she finds herself drawn towards her Commander, despite their differences, and a mysterious elf, who has always been in her dreams. CullenxLavellanxSolas.

Chapter Overview: Cullen and Athdhea disagree about either allying with the mages or the templars. While they may not see eye to eye, Athdhea makes him a promise--a promise that she fulfills in a way that he does not expect.

This fic is also in fanfiction.net and AO3

"For the last time: you cannot go to the mages!" shouted Cullen. "You're letting your emotions keep you from making rational decisions."

"And I am telling you: the Templars will not be an option!" Athdhea snapped back.

"You cannot blame the deaths of your Mother and Father on all Templars! Some of us chose this life for noble reasons. Not all of us killed your parents!"

"No, but that does not make me feel any better, Commander!"

The rest of the room stayed back in shock. This is the first time that he's seen her raise her voice. As she met his gaze, she made it clear to him that she was not backing out.

"We're done here. I leave for Redcliffe tomorrow. Stay or follow me: I don't care."

Upon leaving, she slammed the door loudly behind him. Leliana and Josephine followed quietly. Cassandra stayed, watching Cullen pace the room furiously.

"How could she be so stubborn?!" he fumed. "She's driving the Inquisition to th ground with this."

"The mages are not a terrible option, Commander," argued Cassandra. "Their magic is equally powerful to seal the Breach."

He snarled, "Their magic! Their magic started this mess at Kirkwall in the first place."

He heard Cassandra roar, and the next thing he knew, he felt her grab him hard on the shoulders, glaring at him as she pinned him to the wall. "You're being unreasonable too! Just remember that everyone in this fight has scars."

A sigh escaped his lips. Cassandra was right. He was being too hard on the Herald, on Athdhea. After all, she did just find out that she lost her parents because of the actions of some of the members of the Order. And Meredith was one of them. The same Meredith he served at Kirkwall. The same Meredith he turned against when she went insane.

Perhaps she did have the right to be mad at him, and he hated that feeling.

Lying on his bed, he tossed and turned. Ever since she came back from the Storm Coast, she's been actively avoiding him. Not only was she skipping sword training, but she kept meetings short when he was present. The last thing he wanted was her thinking ill of him. It was a feeling that he could not understand.

Then he knew what he had to do. He had to apologize. Quickly, he got his coat and his boots. Never mind that they were not completely laced. He just had to go. As he opened the door, he came face to face with a pair of purple eyes—her eyes.

"I…" she muttered awkwardly, "I was going to knock."

He eyes her curiously. It looked like she rushed there too. She was a fur coat, and possibly not much underneath. Maker, this was not boding well. "I…was on my way to find you."

"Well, I am here." She shrugged in defeat. "I…may I come in?"

"NO!" he protested abruptly. Of course, he would not admit to anyone that he did imagine her in such an attire, in his room.

"Okay. Maybe I should just go—"

"NO!" Trying to avoid her puzzled gaze, he continued, "That is, I…maybe we should just head to the bonfire instead."

The large fire right in front of the Chantry rose high above, as they sat beside each other. As the fire lit her gentle features—her eyes, her nose, her lips—he knew that he could not stay mad at her for very long.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I realize I took out my feelings on you, and that was cruel of me. You obviously did not kill my parents, and I know you left the Templars for the Inquisition, because you wanted to right the exact mistakes that both Mages and the Templars made. I know you're a good man, and I've misjudged you."

"Did Cassandra put you up to this?"

"No, I came because I knew I was wrong, and I want apologize."

"Funny," he said with a serious look on his face, "Cassandra said almost the same thing to me."

He again tried to avoid her eyes, which he felt was curiously studying his features.

"Cassandra told me that everyone has scars in this fight. And she was right. You were not the only one who was emotional in that room. And I'm sorry too."

The bonfire crackled before them. For a moment, his eyes were lost on the embers dancing. He's seen fires like this before, bigger more destructive ones…on Ferelden, on Kirkwall.

As if reading his mind, she said, "I heard stories about Kirkwall. I heard about the mage who blew up the Chantry, how the First Enchanter became an abomination, and how the Knight Commander went mad. Experiencing all of that must have been—"

"I should have seen through Meredith sooner…" he interrupted. "It's…not a subject that I would prefer to think about at the moment…"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "And since, we're making confessions…I have another one to make."

"What?" This time he was really interested.

"I…" she started. "I confess that there's another reason why I wanted to approach the mages..."

Oh Maker, stop torturing me and spit it out already!

"I want to find someone."

"To find someone?" he repeated. Trying not to sound interested, he took a bite of a dry apple that he had in his coat pocket. "Who?"

"My first love…"

He nearly choked on the apple piece when he heard that. If she was trying to make him jealous, it was working. "What? Are you serious?"

"A little. I mean, he did save my life once. I feel indebted, attached to him. If that's not love, I don't know what that is."

"You know very little of love then."

"And as far as you have told me, neither do you. I bet you barely have any experience…"

He scoffed. "Oh, you'll be surprised."

"Anyway, I do want to find him-that man in my dreams. Because I can't shake the feeling that he's just nearby. Maybe if I try, I would find him."

"You don't even know if he's real. For all you know, maybe you just imagined him because what happened to you and your family was beyond terrible…"

"I know he's real."

"Maybe you've been reading too much of Varric's romances."

"Oh yes," she teased. "I can see the title of that novel he will probably write about me now printed in huge letters: 'Destiny Finds' You by Varric Tehras. Honestly, I do want to read that."

"Why are you telling me this anyway?" he asked, a little annoyed.

"I'm telling you this because I want you to know why I am doing what I do. Like you, I am doing this so I could find a part of myself. Maybe if I find it, everything would be so much better."

He examined her for a while. There was nothing in her eyes that told him that she was lying.

"And I want to make you a promise," she said. Without warning, she slipped a green ring on his left ring finger. He could tell that it had magic.

"What in the Maker's name is this?" His eyes furrowed as he examined it.

She replied matter-of-factly, "It's a promise ring."

Blood instantly rushed to his cheeks. He heard of such rings from the Dalish. From what he heard, elves gave them to each other as engagement rings.

"And before you get any ideas," she stipulated, "I'm giving this to you because of this promise to you." Clearing her throat, she continued. "I swear, by Mythal, all-Mother and Goddess of Justice, to whom I have given my allegiance to, to instigate peace in this endless war. I swear after we recruit the mages and close the Breach in the sky that we will go to the Templars and broker peace. And I will never stop until justice is done…on both sides."

He stared in amazement. "Do you mean that?"

"I do," she answered. "And this ring will keep you alive until I keep my promise."

He believed it, and that was enough.

Days passed after she left, and there was no word from Redcliffe. When the reports finally came, they indicated that she was coming back with an army of mages in tow. The report included intelligence of a plot to assassinate Empress Celine, and something about "the Elder One" who was mentioned to be behind everything. However, what upset him the most was the fact that despite these mages allying with a Tevinter magister—one that necessitated the King of Ferelden to exile them—she recruited these mages as allies.

So after all that talk about Justice, she could not keep her promise after all.

Even after she returned to Haven, he could not find it in him to see her. One morning, as he was heading out for a training exercise, he found her sitting by his doorstep, obviously waiting for him. Upon seeing him, she quickly stood up and anxiously approached him.

"Cullen, I—"

"Herald," he said, slightly mocking. "Congratulations on recruiting the mages. It was definitely a job well done. Justice well served."

"I know you're mad and I can explain—"

His steps quickened, and she desperately followed. He did not want to see her. Why couldn't she just go away? "There is nothing to explain. You just proved that you are light on your promise. You talk of justice? You just set hundreds of apostates loose across Thedas—apostates who swore their allegiance to Tevinter. So congratulations on keeping the peace."

"They had no choice!" she shouted.

Her voice stopped him in his tracks.

"There is no justice in conscripting mages who allied themselves with Tevinter because they were desperate, because there was little help. And we were almost too late. There is no justice in punishing those who have already been oppressed!"

This he could not take anymore. She had no idea of the dreams he suffered through every night, all because of magic, because of mages. Turning to face her, he argued, "You think mages are the only ones here who are oppressed. Many of us have also known oppression because of magic!"

"I'm sorry." For a moment, he swore that he could see tears forming in her eyes as she said those words. But he could not look at her. Not anymore.

He felt the ring seemingly burn in his hand because of his disappointment. But for some reason, he could not find it in him to throw it away.

No time was wasted on the ritual. Within days, they assembled all the mages who helped Athdhea channel the unexplained power of the Mark. Soon, the large rift above the sky at the Temple Ruins of Sacred Ashes is gone.

They did it. The Inquisition won, or so they thought.

A storm brewed on the mountains nearby. Despite this, the celebrations in Haven are at full swing. Cullen spied her speaking with the new mage from Tevinter, Dorian. She was laughing, and it looked like she greatly enjoyed his company. For a moment, she met his eyes, but he quickly broke his gaze. He could not bear to see her.

He was above to leave the celebrations when the bells started clanging wildly.

"Commander!" the watchman shouted. "Massive forces coming fast!"

His hand tightly gripped his sword. A massive force was marching. Who? How? Why?

"What banner?"

"None, sir! None!"

None? His mind started processing the situation. They have been caught unawares. If there was an army marching on them, Leliana's scouts would have given some warning. But there was no time to think about that now.

"Sound the alarm!" he barked as he ran to the gates.

He quickly organized his lieutenants, and called everyone to run to the safety of the town walls. She came, staff in hand, and he quickly brief her about the situation.

A loud banging from the gates sounded.

"I can't come in unless you open!" a voice called from the other side of the gates.

She nodded towards him, and he drew his sword, ready to face anything beyond the gate. The gates opened to reveal a Templar falling to his knees. A boy emerged behind him, daggers drawn and dripping with blood.

"I am Cole," the boy said. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already knew."

Everything about the situation is strange but this boy looked even stranger. His polite manner and tone contradicted the bloody daggers and the dead Templars around him.

Athdhea frantically approached the boy and demanded, "What is this? What is going on?!"

"The Templars have come to kill you," Cole replied quietly.

Cullen could not believe his ears. "Templars?! Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

How is this happening? He living among Templars, and he was a Templar. How all of this even possible? Numerous questions raced in his mind.

"The Red Templars went to the Elder One," Cole replied cryptically. "You know him. He knows you. You took his mages."

He pointed to a spot in the hill where two figures emerged—a very large man, or monster with red lyrium spikes jutting out of its body, and another man—someone he knew—the disfigured form of his old friend Samson. It couldn't be.

"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole pointed out.

"Cullen!" Athdhea desperately called. "Give me a plan. Anything!"

For a moment, he could not look at her. With everything that was happening, she was right. If everything he was seeing was true, the Templars have become truly corrupt. Then he spotted the trebuchets, which his soldiers calibrated merely days ago. Hardening his voice, he replied, "Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." Pointing to the trebuchets, he said, "Get out there and hit that force with everything you can."

She nodded. Suddenly, they were fighting together.

To the mages, he raised his voice, "Mages! You have sanction to engage them. That there is Samson and he will not make it easy. Use your barriers to protect yourselves and the soldiers. Keep your distance and only use ranged attacks." Drawing his sword, he called, "Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

The small army behind him roared in response. Athdhea nodded to him before she charged with Cassandra, the Iron Bull, Varric and the rest of her party towards the trebuchets.

At first, the plan worked. The trebuchets were giving them the advantage, burying hundreds of the Elder One's army. It looked like they had a chance. Then without warning, a dragon swooped setting the trebuchets and the town in flames.

There goes hope.

He managed to regroup the few that were left inside the Chantry. When she and her part managed to make it back to the Chantry before the doors closed, he managed to feel some relief. She was safe for now.

"Our position here is not good," he said as soon as she came. No doubt she was expecting a report. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

Then Cole, who was tending to the gravely wounded Chancelor Roderick, spoke up, "I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

An archdemon. Wonderful.

"I don't care what it looks like!" Cullen shouted back. "It cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole pointed out. "He only wants the Herald."

"Then he can have me!" Athdhea declared.

No! There has to be another way. He thought.

"Cullen, at Redcliffe I saw the future," she said. "I don't want to live in any future where none of you would have the chance to fight back. If this can give you a chance…"

Cole shook his head. "It won't save them. He wants to kill you. No one else matters but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like—" Seriously, what is wrong with this boy? Cullen's mind tried to come up with solutions, but none came. "There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide."

"We're overrun!" she argued. "To hit the Enemy we'd bury Haven."

"We're dying, but we can decide how," his voice softening. "Many don't get that chance."

That was that truth that he knew. They were dying, but at least it could be in their own terms, together.

"Yes, that!" Cole's voice interrupted. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

The old man was bleeding, so Cole had to help him up. His voice struggled for breath as he spoke, "There is a path. You wouldn't know it, unless you've made the summer pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape…She must have shown me…Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you…"

Athdhea turned to him. "What are you saying Chancellor?"

"It was whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start—it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers…I don't know Herald. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more."

The Chancellor, with his dying words, in the end he did believe. But that was not time to think about that.

"What about it Cullen?" Athdhea asked. "Will it work?"

"Possibly, if he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

She turned away. Then he knew, she wasn't planning on coming back. Then meeting his eyes, she forced a weak smile. "I guess I will be fulfilling my promise after all."

No, not like this.

"Perhaps you can surprise it? Find a way?" His jaw clenched. He could not lose her. Not like this.

She took both his hands and gazed up at him. "I'm going to face him. And the Templars. It's the only way. You know this. Justice will be done."

"If I knew that it would come to this, I would not have—"

"Shhh…it's all in the past. Will you take care of the future for me, Cullen?"

He nodded, but he could not meet her eyes.

"Please tell Keeper Deshanna, that I hunted well. And my sister…tell her I love her. And that silver brush that she tried to steal from me ages ago...she can have it."

He was never good at goodbyes. He never wanted to say them, because there was still so much he wanted to tell her. "Athdhea, I—"

The walls and the ground shook, interrupting him. Maybe it was best that she did not know. Just before she released his hands, he felt her light lips graze his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Then she let go. He took one last look at her as she and her party charged outside the doors. He wanted to follow her, but duty took him elsewhere. It was the only thing that kept him from running to her.

The passage that Roderick directed them to was cold, dank and dark. Some of his soldiers managed to salvage some supplies, and carry some of the wounded. The trek took some time, and he knew that she was trying to bide time for them as long as she could. At last, he felt the cold wind again as they made it out of the narrow passage on the far end of the mountain. They were safe for now. He ordered an archer to light a flare. If she sees it, maybe, just maybe…she could make it out.

"Commander!" cried Rylen, his scope lowered, pointing below.

Before he could reach Rylen, the last trebuchet fired. Like a massive river, the snow rushed downwards, burying almost everything down below. The roar of the snow and sliding rocks filled his ears. The dragon swooped past and took off into the darkness.

When the avalanche seemed to be over, he wondered, did she survive? In the distance, eight figures emerged in the snow—Cassandra, Varric, Solas, Dorian, Vivienne, the Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Sera.

"Cullen!" Cassandra called as she ran towards them.

"What happened?" he inquired. "The Herald…did she?"

Cassandra sadly shook her head. "She sent us away…I'm sorry, Cullen."

She's gone, and he could not believe it.

"She's still alive!" Solas contended. "Send a search party after her, Commander."

Then Rylen approached, pointing out, "Commander, enemy forces could still be in the area. We have to move."

He wanted to listen to the elf, but Rylen also had a point. Leliana gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "She did what she could to bide us some time. Do not let her sacrifice be in vain."

He did not want to leave, but duty commanded him to. And if she was truly gone, he owed her as much as to protect the people she tried to protect. Steeling his voice, he regretfully gave the order move out.

He lost her. But he also realized that he wanted her—not despite their differences—but because of them. When they disagreed, he always found himself questioning everything he believed to be true. Everything she said always made him examine himself, and think about how he could be a better person.

And he was never able to tell her that.

A/N: Of course he will be able to tell her. Because SPOILERS: she's alive. But we all know that.

One thing about CullenxInquisitor fics that I know where the Inquisitor is a mage, the mage templar debate is often there to create sexual tension. While there may be that here, I mostly wanted to focus on the ideological tension here. Because I do think falling in love is about meeting minds. Blame that on Shakespeare.

This fic is also in fanfiction.net and AO3

Next up: "A Wolf in the Distance." I guess I'll be writing in Solas' POV after all. :)

[sassylavellen]

Some of my Inquisition character Headcanons

Some of these I’ve mentioned before. Others are new or just haven’t been said before.

Evelyn Lavellan: 

- At 6′2″, Evelyn Lavellan is taller than the average human female, which makes her extremely tall for a female elf. She’s slightly taller than Cullen.

- Instead of meeting the random Dalish clan in The Exalted Plains, Evelyn met her own clan. And instead of recruiting Loranil, Evelyn recruits her sister Moira.

- She is very self-conscience about the size of her ears.

- While she classifies as a warrior, Evelyn has her own fighting style that is more akin to being a rogue. She’s light and quick like a rogue, but uses a longsword instead of daggers. She also prefers lighter armor that does not restrict her movements as apposed to clunkier heavy armor. This is also why she prefers her Dalish Warrior armor, because it allows her more mobility than normal heavy armor.

- She and Sera started out not liking one another, almost to the point where Evelyn wanted to throw her out. In the end, Evie let her stay because Sera was was the one who wanted to join in the first place. As time went on, Evelyn began to understand how Sera’s mind worked (never truly figured it out) and they became friends. By the end, Evelyn considered her a trusted ally. Sera even went out of her way to send other Red Jennies to look for survivors after Evelyn’s clan was wiped out.

- Vivienne was more of an advisor to Evelyn rather than a companion. Evelyn rarely took her with her and they never really got along. Towards the end, they both learned their boundaries with one another and built up a mutual respect.

- Her best friend in the Inquisition was Lace Harding.

- Evelyn read Swords and Shields because she was curious. She didn’t finish it. Varric slightly disapproves.

- When Corypheus attacked Haven and she was trying to give everyone time to escape through the chantry, Evelyn left alone to face The Elder One. Iron Bull, The Chargers, and Sera followed her and helped fight. They were also the ones who found Evelyn in the snow and carried her to safety through the snowstorm to the Inquisition camp.

- Evelyn wears Cullen’s coin around her neck like a pendant.

- When she was stuck in the Fade, she does not see the fearlings take the shape of spiders. She saw her dead family and friends, bruised, beaten and bleeding attacking her. Specifically, they took the appearance of Holli Trevelyan, Amanda Trevelyan, her brother Ezra, her parents, and other members of her clan.

- When she defeated Corypheus, the tower she fought him on collapsed and she would have fallen to her death. Iron Bull barely caught her in time and dragged her back up to safety.

Moira Lavellan:

- Moira heard that a Dalish elf from Ostwick became the Inquisitor, and when she heard the Inquisition was making camp near her clan’s camp, she snuck out at night and found the Inquisition camp. She met Scout Harding, who informed her that the Inquisitor would be arriving in the morning. Moira stayed in the camp until she arrived because she wanted to make sure the rumors were true and that her sister was Inquisitor.

- Moira wanted to join Evelyn’s inner circle, but her sister put her on Harding’s team. Later she found out that Evelyn was terrified that Moira would get hurt under her own care and thought she’d be safer in Harding’s care. However, there were a few missions she went on with Evelyn, including Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts and Here Lies The Abyss. After Here Lies the Abyss, Moira agreed that Evelyn’s dangerous lifestyle wasn’t her cup of tea and was satisfied serving as a scout.

- Moira was an apprentice to her clan’s craftsman and specialized in amor crafting. She and Harrett worked together to make Evelyn her signature Dalish Amor.

- Moira had a crush on Stephen Trevelyan almost immediately, but it confused her because she had spent her whole life up to that point in a very traditional Dalish clan that hated humans. While she never hated humans growing up the way other in the clan did, the fact that she immediately found him attractive scared her initially. As they had missions together, she stopped caring he was a human because he was always nice to her, and she also saw Evelyn and how happy she was in her relationship with Cullen.

- She and Stephen Trevelyan got separated from Harding’s team on one mission and found themselves in Val Royeux on their own. During this brief stay, Moira realized that Stephen also had feelings for her. 

- Moira is the best archer in the Inquisition. Varric, Sera, and others hate to admit it.

Stephen Trevelyan: 

- Stephen journeyed to the Conclave with his sister Holli and friend Evelyn to find his two missing sisters, Alyssa and Amanda. Alyssa had become a highly active member of the Mage Rebellion, and Amanda in turn had become a forerunner on the Templar’s side. He was not at the conclave when it exploded, but he was close enough that he was injured.

- He refused to join the Inquisition initially. In his mind, the Inquisition was connected to the conclave and his sister Holli’s death. As time went on, he began to think more rationally and accepted that the Inquisition had nothing to do with it and that they were doing everything to stop the chaos. Evelyn did everything she could to help him recover with his grief.

- After arriving at Skyhold and recovering fully, Stephen officially joined the Inquisition.

- Stephen was impressed by Moira’s skill and finesse with archery, but did not immediately develop feelings for her. He didn’t realize he had developed feelings for her until Here Lies The Abyss. He went to Adamant with Evelyn and Moira, but did not fall into the Fade with them. He was terrified for her. *He was afraid for Evelyn too, but there was a part of him that believed she was strong enough to get through it.*

- Every time he encountered Red Templars on one of his missions, he was terrified that he might find his sister Amanda among them. Finally, towards the end of the events of Inquisition, Charter finally found her. She was indeed a Red Templar, and she was found dead, presumably in a scuffle with bandits. The only comfort Stephen had was in the fact that he (or the Inquisition in general) were not the ones who killed her.

Sophia Cousland:

- While she didn’t join the Inquisition, Sophia Cousland did go out of her way to visit Leliana after she heard about the conclave exploding. She had to see for herself that her love was okay. 

- Leliana kept her presence in Haven a secret, specifically from Cassandra, but Sophia and Evelyn did meet briefly. Evelyn didn’t know who she was until later.

- Sophia was very suspicious of the Wardens. She knew they were up to something. but she was not very popular with the Wardens after her resignation as Warden Commander. The only Wardens she trusted were Gillan Mahariel, Oghren, Bethany Hawke, Stroud, and Alistair (who was king).

- She’s also the one who gives Leliana the tip about Blackwall. Because her presence in Haven was kept secret, Leliana had to say “one of her agents” found out about Blackwall.

- She met with Grand Enchanter Fiona several months prior to the events in Inquisition to learn about her experience as a Warden and the events that took the calling from her. She had also been searching for Blackwall, but couldn’t find him. She had heard rumors that the calling never affected him, but she didn’t put too much faith in the rumor and gave up trying to find him.

- Sophia returned to Skyhold after hearing about the events of Adamant. This time she was not kept secret.

- During Trespasser, Sophia once again visited Leliana. When the Qunari began their assault, Sophia stayed and helped.

Gillan Mahariel:

- Gillan spent all of Inquisition in Weisaupt. While she never directly involved herself in the events happening in the world, she was working with Mari Hawke and Stroud, helping them research Corypheus.

Mari Hawke:

- Mari was suffering from anxiety and depression during Inquisition.

- After the disastrous events in Kirkwall, Mari seriously did not want to get involved with any sort of trouble. She was extremely reluctant to come to Skyhold and didn’t want to join. She only involved herself with researching Corypheus because she felt responsible and she wanted to make sure Bethany wouldn’t be affected.

- Mari was not in peak physical shape during Inquisition. She had stopped working out and had gained several pounds. She wanted nothing to do with being Champion anymore.

- While they kept in contact by writing, she had not seen Varric since they left Kirkwall.

- Mari was only still in regular contact with Varric, Aveline, and Merrill. She had a hard time keeping up with Fenris and Isabela, and she rarely heard from Tallis. 

- Mari hadn’t seen Bethany in over a year before she went to Weisaupt after Adamant. Seeing her sister again was exactly what she needed and with her help, she slowly began to overcome her depression.

[mercurialmind]

The Sword and The Quill

Pairing: Josephine Montilyet/Cassandra Pentaghast, feat. Shae Lavellan/Dorian Pavus

Raiting: E

Additional Tags: Fluff, Slow burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

You can find the fic here:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10882989/chapters/24182703

Chapter 1

“You know, Cassandra, you should really talk to her about how you feel”, said Dorian and took a sip from his glass of wine.

Cassandra stared at her glass absentmindedly while tapping her fingers against the table. “I know it is what I should do”, she told, “but I cannot even understand what this is, as I have never felt this way towards any woman before.” She drank from her glass and fell back on her chair. “I like men.”

“I hear you”, said Dorian smirking.

Cassandra chuckled, a sound that was so rarely heard from her mouth. “I mean I always dreamt of a man who would sweep me of my feet. I have yearned for this since I can remember, but now it does not seem to have importance anymore.”

During the first few months of the inquisition Dorian and Cassandra had slowly gotten acquainted and spent more time together. They had started chatting by the campfire and little by little began sharing more information to each other about their lives. If someone had told they would become friends, Cassandra would have laughed at that person. She had not let Dorian close very quickly. At first, she had been quite suspicious about him since he was from Tevinter, but after giving a chance they both realized they enjoyed each other’s company.

Dorian smiled knowingly while playing with his curvy moustache. He was sitting in his armchair, relaxed as always, one leg on top of the other.

“Oh, come on. You must admit this Antivan woman has gotten you under her spell, and you are all but helpless in front of her.”

Cassandra let out a disgruntled noise while glaring at him.

“You know always how to choose the right words to make everything sound incredibly tawdry.” She shook her head. “But even if this would be the case, how do you think any relationship would be possible as death lurks in every corner? I have lost many people I cared for. I do not wish Josephine to experience the same.“

“I understand”, Dorian said. “But, especially during time like this, you should take happiness where you can get it.”

She sighed. “You are probably right.”

— 

Cassandra had just finished her breakfast and was heading back to her quarters. They were going to leave soon to Exalted Plains for expedition with Inquisitor Lavellan. She decided to stop by Josephine’s office but felt suddenly butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She sighed hard. How this can even happen to me? She thought and knocked on the door. Right away she heard Josephine calling her to enter.

Josephine was sitting at her desk as usual, and a smile rose on her lips as Cassandra entered the room.

“Cassandra”, she said. “It is a pleasure. I was hoping to see you before you leave.”

Cassandra nodded stiffly but a little smile crept on her lips as she approached Josephine who stood up from her chair.  “I wanted to tell you, goodbye, before we head out.”

“I am glad you did. I do have something that might interest you”, Josephine said and opened her drawer. She pulled out a book and handed it to Cassandra.

“What is it?” Cassandra asked when she took it.

“It is a romance novel written by a well-known Antivan author.”

“Why would you - I mean how did you - ?”

Josephine waved her hand carelessly in the air. “Let us say, I have quite an ear for rumors”, she told and leaned against her desk.

Cassandra frowned, a slight grunt escaping her lips. She was glaring at the book suspiciously. It was not because she did not want to read a book recommended by Josephine, but she felt exposed as her secret appetite for romance novels had gone out.

“Please, do give it a chance”, Josephine continued as Cassandra seemed incredibly doubtful. “I consider it to be most intriguing and much better quality than Varric’s romance series, though I do not wish to offend Varric in any way. I highly respect his penmanship. I am just not convinced about his skills in writing romance.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “You have read them?” she asked suddenly curious.

“Only one of them”, Josephine answered, “It was hardly romantic for my taste. I prefer his crime series. I think Varric is at his best writing those.”

“I suppose I can give it a try”, said Cassandra and saw Josephine nodding for approval, maybe she saw something else in her eyes too, but it could have been completely her imagination. “I will be going then – and will see you in a few weeks.” Cassandra tugged the book against her chest. “It will be a long ride.”

“Please, do take care of yourself”, Josephine said as she took a small step closer to Cassandra.

Cassandra nodded, as she leaned unintentionally forward. However, she quickly stiffened and turned on her heels. “Thank you for the book.”

When she closed the door behind her, she felt the warmth rising on her cheeks.

 —

The journey to Exalted Plains was most annoying. Long days of riding and she disliked riding, horses in general. She was always happy as they finally stopped to set up a camp since it gave her an opportunity to retreat in the tent for the night, to read the book. She was certainly curious about what kind of book Josephine had handed her, thus the first night she completely skipped the discussions at the campfire and told she was all too tired and needed rest.

As she settled in her tent, getting comfortable on her bedroll and opened the book, she recognized it carried a slight scent of Josephine’s perfume which made her smile. Fast she realized her thoughts had wandered and got flustered all by herself, immediately finding it completely ridiculous for feeling this way.

She sighed and started reading. The writing was good; she could tell it fairly quickly. She was a fast reader, thus it did not take her a long time to be able to form a slight opinion on the novel. It was interesting, she would admit for now.

Every night she read a little. She was utterly surprised when she realized the romance in the novel was between two women. Her head began spinning right away with thoughts. Was this some kind of message from Josephine? Had she noticed her lingering looks and now had given her this book, because she did not know if Cassandra was interested? Abruptly, she laughed at herself. That was all very nice but completely fruitless speculation. She decided to keep reading, with growing curiosity.

This trip felt more annoying than any other they had previously been on. And it was only because she had an urge to return to Skyhold even though she did not know what she would say to Josephine when she next met her. She found it extremely hard to concentrate to the task at hand.

One day, when they had stopped by a river to fill their waterskins, Cole appeared out of nowhere as he used to do every now and then. Cassandra had already gotten accustomed to it, thus she only flinched a little and continued washing her face.

“Her hair braided on the neck, slight scent of flowers as she walks by. Joyful giggle that warms the heart. Try not to admit.”

“Cole!”

Cole sat calmly on a big rock just beside her. He watched the moving water as it run by them.

“She would say yes.”

Cassandra looked at his pale, still eyes nearly hidden by the hat too large for the man of his size, and said nothing.

Cole turned to look at her for a moment and then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Dorian could not avoid noticing Cassandra’s disappearance every evening after their dinner. On one evening, he confronted her.

“I am just tired”, she explained once again and tried escaping behind the tent curtains.

“Don’t give me that utter nonsense, Cassandra”, he said seriously. “Something is going on. What is it?”

“It is nothing really, Dorian”, Cassandra said feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

Dorian looked at her with investigating eyes and maybe saw something he did not want to inquire further as he just said: “All right then. But if you have something in mind you can always come and talk to me.”

“I appreciate that.” This said Cassandra closed the curtains.

That night, the novel took a turn to more suggestive direction. It did not take long before she started feeling overly warm in the small space of the tent. She could not avoid thinking about certain someone while reading it, thus she had to cast the book aside and leave the tent in order to get fresh air.

Everyone had already gone to sleep when she put her head between the curtains and took a peek outside, thus she sighed with relief.  As she sat in front of the cold ashes and watched the stars on the clear sky, she could not help but wonder if this was really it, the feeling she had. When she had started her journey with the inquisition, never would she have thought this to happen.

Honestly, she had never judged anyone according to their gender preference. By herself she had always been able to tell if a woman was beautiful but she had never really thought about them romantically. During her life, she had met many different people. Some of them preferred the same gender, some both, and some had no such interests at all. By this age, she had realized this had nothing to do with the personality or other such qualities of a person. She found herself thinking about Dorian who people knew preferring men, but no one disliked him for that. Sera liked women, and no one minded about it either. Even Leliana was known about her past relationships with both men and women. Still she succeeded to fear how she would be seen by others if she was to pursue with her feelings for Josephine.

Another thought creeping in the depth of her mind, was if she could even rely on herself anymore. How could she suddenly change this way? She had always liked only men even though she hardly had experience on them either, except for Regalyan, but it was so long ago. How could she suddenly have these thoughts about another woman? Other matter that worried her most of all, was if she had completely misled herself with Josephine and would destroy their friendship with her feelings?

She could feel her own heart pounding in the silence for the trepidation and delight as she thought about the moment she would see Josephine again. Whatever was to come out of this, she could not wait for their return to Skyhold.

The exploration took longer than ever. After Dorian’s approach she tried spending more time with the others in the evenings. The way Dorian and Shae sat shoulder to shoulder at the campfire, the way they looked at each other, made her smile with happiness. One evening, she saw Dorian smiling back at her over the flames. He had understood.

 —

It was one of those days when the sun hit hard, even though it was not yet midday. They were exploring the northern part of the plains and hunting for a white wyvern. Shae had told that Vivienne had requested him to get her the heart of a snowy wyvern.

“What does she need it for?” Dorian asked. “To my knowledge, it is not a common ingredient for any kind of a potion I know.”

“I did not want to inquire too much as I am not in so good terms with her”, Shae answered. “I am even surprised she asked this favor of me.”

They moved further and further in the Ghilan’nain’s Grove and soon they heard the sound of great wings above them. The growl made Cassandra’s hairs on her neck to rise, and she looked up already knowing what they were going to face. A high dragon flew over and landed in front them with a thunderous sound as it slashed through the air and crushed the rocks under its giant legs. It created such a wind they nearly fell on the ground from its impact.

“It is a Gamordan Stormrider!” Shouted Cassandra and started backing out. “We are not prepared for this. We need better armor to fight this one!”

Slowly they tried retreating from it, Cassandra in front, ready to shield anything that would come towards them. The dark purple dragon growled again, the very sound shaking the ground underneath. Cassandra swore under her breath while they tried together to gain distance to the dragon that moved closer and closer. It spread its wings, causing a whirlwind which started pulling them closer.

The others had succeeded retreating far enough to avoid getting caught in the wind, but Cassandra was less lucky. Even though she tried hard keeping herself grounded, she was pulled too close. The dragon took advantage and swung its tail towards her. She flew through the air as the hit landed on her, leaving her breathless, and it was the last thing she could remember before her vision went black.

[juniper-tree]

Wind and flame, 3 - Curling up

Rating:  this chapter is totally G/SFW, but the full work is rated Explicit

Dragon Age: Inquisition - Cullen x Female Lavellan

AO3 link - thanks for reading!

Summary:  Cullen and Cassandra have a talk, then get together with Leliana and Finn at the tavern to share a few drinks, and a few awkward moments.

**

"Faster," Cullen said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.  He leaned his elbow on the battered straw dummy.  "I think you can still go faster."  He felt pointy bristles, dislodged from the straw man, stuck in his hair and struggled to pick them out.  His hair, these days flattened literally with a lick and a prayer, grabbed and held onto everything within proximity.

Cassandra panted and stuck the end of the dulled practice sword in the mud, leaning on the hilt.  Her sharp face was flushed, and the braid crowning her head was rebelling.  "Not sure I agree with you. Anything else?"

He began to speak but breathed in straw dust, so he choked and spat first.  "When you thrust from two horned guard, you're only using your arms, not your body."  He moved in front of the dummy and lifted his own sword into position, holding the hilt in both hands, left hand leading.  From chest-height, he thrust the blade forward to the straw head, leaning over as his arms shifted away from him.  "It puts you off balance, all your weight is in front, and your head is down."  He pulled back into the starting position, this time thrusting forward with his legs and groin as well as arms.

"See the difference?  Put your—“  He hesitated and closed his eyes tight.  They were friends, but he couldn't talk to her the way he scolded the troops.  "Put your rear into it."

Cassandra frowned at him.  "My rear is none of your concern, I assure you," she said, gripping the hilt and swinging the dull blade up to rest on her shoulder.  "But I see your point."

It was hot and, worse, humid.  Though no sun shone directly on the little scrap of yard where Cassandra liked to practice, a dense heat had settled over Skyhold, proceeding a thunderstorm that would soon arrive.  The air was still, and lately the heat lingered even into the night.  Cullen prayed for a breeze.

He'd had no need to put on his mantle and gloves today, and when Cassandra suggested an early-evening practice, he'd removed his armor and sashes and left them in his quarters.  Walking around in his undershirt was cooler, if it left him feeling slightly vulnerable, but leather breeches were not made for this weather.  That's when he realized he'd ordered two pairs of these, and no other trousers, when he'd left Kirkwall.  He had prepared for the weather near the Frostbacks.  Skyhold had strange weather patterns, skipping from frosts to hot humid days like this with hardly a transition.

Josephine kept threatening him with newly tailored clothes for their upcoming visit to Val Royeaux and this blighted ball.  He would wear what she wanted—there was no point arguing with her when her mind was set—but he hoped that, though Maker knew he could use it, she wouldn't get him anything else.  He didn't want to seem ungrateful, but whatever she chose for him might be... shiny.

Cassandra, too, was feeling the heat.  She squatted low in her boots, wiping the sweat from her face and neck with a handkerchief, and loosened her shirt where it tied at the collar.  "I'm done.  This weather is unbearable," she moaned.  "I hope it breaks tonight."  She plopped down onto the ground and stretched her legs in front of her, tossing the practice sword away into the weedy grass.  "Last time we had a storm, it was wonderful.  I watched it from inside the gatehouse and you could see it coming for miles. So much lightning." Her eyes shone like an excited child.

Cullen bent to pick up her discarded sword, and stacked it along with his against the dummy's stand.  "Sounds a bit frightening," he said.

"Yes," she smiled, "in a good way. But you know who must have the most amazing view?" she asked, leaning back on her elbows and looking up at the greying sky.  "The Inquisitor.  She has windows and balconies all around her room."

He felt a tug inside him when Cassandra mentioned her.  It had been a busy month.  He'd barely seen her.  She had left again, the day after they spoke in his quarters.  And again he asked himself why he stayed behind to command from here, why he didn't go out into the field, with her.  But he could answer himself, too: in this state, he wasn't in good condition.  He was a liability.  He could feel it while he was practicing with the dummy earlier  Everything too slow, too cautious.  The ability was still there, but his body wasn't up to the task.  He might put people in danger, worst of all he might put her in danger.  She was the most necessary of all of them, with that dreadful mark on her hand.  But there was more to it than that.  What drew him to her was also what kept him away.

She had been back, and gone, and back again now, and he'd still not been able to build on what he hoped might have begun in his quarters that night.

"She asked me about you, you know."  Cassandra broke through his muddled thoughts, and he turned to her.  "Some time ago now," she said with a teasing smile.      

Cullen had some experience in disarming smug older sister types. "I know," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the dummy.  "She told me."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows.  "Did she?"  She sat up and crossed her legs.  "When?"

He narrowed his eyes.  "Some time ago now," he said dryly.  "You told her I get headaches.  I was rather cross with you for a moment, actually.  I thought you'd told her about... everything."  He glanced around them to see if anyone else was within earshot.  Save for a laughing trio walking away from the Herald's Rest, no one was around.

She glanced sidelong at him.  "I would not do that.  That is entirely up to you."

"I know," he said apologetically.

She picked away bits of grass stuck to the palms of her hands.  "She was keen to know if you were well or not, so I said headaches.  It seemed safe enough."

"Thank you, Cassandra," he said, "honestly."  He rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt and fanned it away from his chest to move some air.  "She gave me something for headaches.  It's worked rather well."  He looked down at the grass and smiled softly.

He could feel Cassandra staring at him.  "What did she give you?" she asked, resting her chin on her fist.

He sat down under the dummy, leaning back uncomfortably against its post.  When Cassandra wanted to know something, it was best to tell her.  But he didn't have to tell her everything.  "She came to see me when you got back from the Hinterlands last month.  She had an herbal remedy for me."  He decided not to tell her about the wine.  "Did you know she's a healer?  She's trained for years," he said, hoping to move the subject toward the Inquisitor, and away from him.

Cassandra listened, nodding.  "I did know a little about that, yes," she said slowly.  "So she came to see you?" she asked, leaning forward.  "She made this remedy for you?"

He paused.  "Yes."

"And?"

"And what?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.  "What did you two talk about?  Was it a nice visit?"

He sighed.  "Not very much, and yes."  Maker, if Mia only knew there was another her around to dig into his life.  He wasn't sure whether she'd be happy or jealous.

"I see," she said, obviously dissatisfied.  "Well, after what she asked about you, I suppose I'm not surprised she went to see you directly."  She pretended to loosen a buckle on her forearm while she waited for him to clamor for details.  He didn't want to take the bait.  But he did want to know one thing.

"How do you know she came to see me 'directly'?  I didn't say that," he said.

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it abruptly, obviously having thought better of whatever she was about to say.  Then she just shrugged.  "I think I heard someone mention it.  You know how gossip spreads," she said defensively.  "Everyone knows everyone's business."

"I do," he sighed.  "Is there no privacy to be found?"

She laughed.  "None."

He wiped the sweat from his brow back into his hair, trying to lay it flat.  A fool's errand.  In this weather, nothing would straighten it.  He lifted his own rear to help him stand, with an undignified groan.  He brushed stray straw and grass from his breeches, and held out a hand to Cassandra.  She took it, only lightly grimacing at how sweaty it was, and let him help her up.

She brushed herself clean of grass, then tried to straighten her braid as she looked at Cullen out of the corner of her eye.  "You don't want to know what she asked?"

He paused as he gathered up their practice blades and gloves into his arms.  "I would like to know, yes," he said, cautiously.  He didn't look up.

Cassandra sighed with relief.  "She asked how old you were.  I said I didn't know.  How old are you?"

"31."

"Fine.  She asked how long I'd known you.  She asked whether you had an illness.  I suppose she can see symptoms in you," Cassandra wondered aloud.  "She asked if you were nice," she laughed.  "I said yes."

"Thanks for that."  He walked to a chest nearby and deposited the dull swords.

"And she asked if you were involved with anyone," she finished.  "I said I didn't know the answer to that one, either," she said, folding her arms.

She had wondered about all of this?  She'd never been shy about asking him about himself.  He supposed these were things she didn't want to ask him about.  It made sense.  How could you ask someone if they're nice, after all?  Are they going to say no?  And... involved with anyone.  He tried desperately to will away the blush he felt creeping into his cheeks.

"Those are interesting questions," he said stiffly, still facing the chest.

Cassandra was quiet for a moment.  Then she said, "I'll be seeing her this evening, you know.  Leliana and I are meeting her for a drink later.  You could join us."

He turned around to face her but didn't really focus, just tried to process why exactly the idea of that made him so bloody nervous.  "Oh?" he said, attempting nonchalance, and likely failing.  "Where?"

"At the tavern, of course," she said impatiently.  "After this dinner they're having in the great hall.  Come, everyone needs a drink in this heat.  And maybe you can answer these questions she had yourself," she added, teasing.

His chest suddenly felt very tight, and he knew he couldn't hide the sadness that suddenly gripped him.  He looked at the ground and shook his head.

She crossed over to him.  He could see the concern on her face, which made him feel guilty and pathetic, on top of everything else.  "May I speak freely with you, Cullen?" she asked tentatively.

It struck him that if she hadn't already been speaking freely, he wasn't sure what he was in for now.  But he only answered, "Of course."

She appeared to carefully consider her words.  Finally she said, "I think a... friendship would be good for you.  For both of you."  She looked at him intently, but with affection.

He could only assume that by "both" she meant the Inquisitor and himself.  Weren't they friends?  They were friendly.  Perhaps real friendship, more than they had now, was an attainable goal.

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

She sighed, glancing around them.  "You both bear much weight.  Lighten it when you can, if you can."  She folded her arms, shrugging.  "Perhaps you can do that for each other."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" he asked.  "She's the Inquisitor, we're at war.  And I'm..."  He trailed off, finding it hard to define the one thing he was that was wrong.  There seemed to be so many.

She reached out and placed a hand on his upper arm, squeezing gently.  "She can be more than one thing," she said softly.  "So can you."

All he could do was nod.  Her confidence in him shamed him.  She reminded him so much of Mia.  "Thank you," he said, not looking at her.

She let go of his arm and clapped him hard on the shoulder.  "Thank me by coming to the Herald's Rest tonight."

As Cassandra walked away, he weighed what she said in his mind.  He had, over the past month, when he found the time to think, vacillated between wanting to go to her, wanting to be more to her, and fearing it.    

A sudden itch at his neck reminded him how sweaty and straw-covered he was, so, after sneaking into the kitchens for a quick dinner, he went to wash up and put on his usual attire.  Again he left behind his fur and gloves.  Though he wanted to look presentable, he allowed himself some small mercies against the heat.  He didn't, however, bother with his hair, curling itself unbidden.  In the dim, cracked glass above his wash basin, the fluffy curls made him look like a teenager again.  He felt like a teenager, recently, with his stomach in knots over a girl, thoughts of her at night keeping him awake.  And like back then, he was clueless as to how to proceed.

He sighed at himself and wet his razor in the basin.  As he brought it to his cheek to shave, piercing pain shot through his gut.  He doubled over, dropping the razor to the floor.  He grew suddenly boiling hot, panting as the pain seemed undulate through him in waves.  Crawling to his bed, he managed to roll himself into it, curling his knees to his chest, putting some pressure on his stomach to ease the pain, to at least feel something else.  A long-awaited breeze flowed into the loft through the roof hole, but he felt no relief from it as the air cooled the sweat at his hairline.  Void take him, he sometimes wished these attacks would knock him out cold.  Instead he was all too conscious, feeling every little shock as he waited for it to subside.

After some time, he knew not how long, the pain dulled into a hard ache.  He rolled over on the bed to reach his makeshift table.  He kept her herbs there, and the wine.  He mixed them into a cup and drank, emptying the bottle.  Whether it made him too sleepy to be good company later didn't matter just now.  He lay in bed, his breath heavy and slow, holding the empty wine bottle close.

He was very tempted to stay there all night.  Here, in his bed, he could take his rest, while he had what she'd given him.  He could imagine seeing her, talking, sharing a few drinks, walking with her out on the battlements, watching the sky, waiting for the storm to roll in.  He could imagine it very clearly.  It was almost as good as the real thing might be, and if he stuttered or said something foolish, he could reimagine it, get it right.

But the pain was fading.  The warmth from her remedy spread through him.  He would do what he knew he should do.  Slowly he rolled himself upright, his head throbbing and dizzy.  He carefully placed the wine bottle near the bed.  Then he stood, slowly, then gingerly climbed down the ladder, then walked out the door.    

***

One could faintly hear the din of evening music and laughter outside the door to the Herald's Rest, equal parts inviting and intimidating.  Cullen paused and steadied himself before pushing open the heavy wooden door.  Instantly the sound bloomed around him, music gently floating over the sea of conversation and cards.  He ducked under a low beam as he walked in, nodding to a table of recruits as he passed.  They slowly lifted their ale tankards to him in a confused salute, and he swallowed a laugh.  They'd learned no official protocol on how to greet your commanding officer in a tavern, and since their army was so ragtag and pieced together, he tended to focus on fighting discipline, rather than the strict order and threats of punishment he'd had drilled into him.  It was enough for them to believe in the cause.  That gave them their focus, not fear.

He scanned the warmly lit tavern and found Cassandra at a small table near the unlit fireplace.  She sat with her legs crossed, her gloves folded neatly beside her, sipping an ale.  It was an oddly dainty posture for her, to his mind, but he remembered she was technically royalty, as much as she might like to forget.  He was thankful for their friendship, and for the chance she'd given him in Kirkwall that brought him here.  Unlike the Order, where your rank rarely outpaced your position in civilian life, the Inquisition had seemed to level everyone out, so that a poor farm boy from Honnleath could drink bad ale with a Nevarran princess and no one thought it odd.

Maybe the ale wouldn't be bad tonight.

He sat down on the bench across the table from her, surprising her.  "Oh, you're here, I'm glad.  And you cleaned up," she said, looking him over, one eyebrow raised sharply.  "Probably time better spent than dining with visiting dignitaries," she muttered into her ale.

He nodded sympathetically.

The tavern door slamming shut rang out over the din, and they both turned to see that Leliana had entered, with the Inquisitor.  Leliana spotted them quickly and strode over, while the Inquisitor lingered by the door.  He indulged himself and took in the sight of her.  She was in her usual breeches and boots, but instead of armor she'd worn a royal blue jacket, sparkling with silver buttons.  It was slung over her arm, discarded in the heat, so all she wore was a simple linen undershirt with no sleeves.  The pale cream of her clothes made her dark skin, a sweet warm sepia, all the more vibrant.  Her dark red hair, pushed behind her ears, fell to just above her shoulders, a few sweat-damp strands clinging to her neck.  Her only adornments were a few simple silver earrings, and her steel-grey vallaslin.  She looked tired but pleased to reach the end of a long day, her dark brown eyes surveying the tavern.

Then her eyes found his.  His heart began to thump a nervous rhythm.  He was sure he was staring slack-jawed, but he would have been more embarrassed to turn away when she caught him, so he held her gaze.  She seemed surprised to see him, blinking, her brow furrowed.  But then a slow smile began to spread, and she turned her eyes down, walking toward the table.

"Commander," Leliana said with authority, suddenly beside him, startling him from his thoughts.  He abruptly stood, knocking his knee against a table leg, and nodded to her.  "Thank you for joining us this evening."  She smiled slyly, though her smiles always looked sly to him, and walked around the table to sit on the bench beside him.  The Inquisitor soon joined them, and took the seat beside Cassandra, diagonal to him.  Once she was settled, he sat again, nodding in acknowledgment to her.  He put his hands in his lap and felt the need to sit up very straight.    

"Hello, everyone," Cassandra sang lightly.  "You managed to escape the Arlessa and her retinue?"

Leliana scoffed.  "Barely.  I had to tell Josephine we were late for a security detail meeting.  It was the only way she would let us leave."  She folded her hands on the table, sighing.

"And she knows you were lying," the Inquisitor said, smirking.  She slumped forward a bit, her elbow on the table, and propped her head on her fist.

"Of course, but the Arlessa is none the wiser.  Oh, she goes on, does she not?"

Cassandra nodded.  "I couldn't take much more after I finished my meal, to be perfectly honest.  So I didn't."  She threw back her tankard to finish her ale.

"Looks like we need a round," the Inquisitor said.

"I'll get them," he offered eagerly, standing.  "Ale for everyone, or...?"

Leliana stood as well and placed a light hand on his arm.  "No, no, you sit.  I'll get them.  I have something very specific in mind."  She walked around the table.  "Cassandra, join me?  I won't be able to carry them all."

Cassandra raised her eyebrows a bit and stood, grabbing her tankard.  "Coming," she said.  They walked away toward the bar, leaving him alone with her.  He sat, and smiled shyly at her.

"I didn't know you were coming along tonight, Commander," she said, smiling.  She sat up and put her hands on the table.  Her lack of shirtsleeves showed off her arms, more muscular than he knew.  It was...  very attractive, he had to admit.  Obviously she was less fragile than he'd imagined, too.  That he'd thought so made him feel a little foolish.

He idly fidgeted with his thumb to distract him from her arms.  "Cassandra invited me earlier.  I hope you don't mind," he added.

"Oh, no!  I'm glad, actually," she said.  "I feel like I haven't really seen you for a while now."

"Yes," he said softly.  "I was thinking the same thing earlier."  His palms were wet.  Was he always this sweaty?  He realized that his gloves usually kept him from knowing.  Damn this weather.

She nodded, looking into his eyes, then her gaze moved up.  She giggled and brought a hand to her cheek, sighing.

"What is it?" he asked, cocking one brow.

"Um, your hair," she said slowly.  "I just noticed.  I've never seen it like that before."

His hand flew to his head, instinctively trying to flatten his curls.  Which was pointless.  He grimaced.  "It's the weather," he grumbled.

"So that's why Varric calls you Curly.  I didn't realize it was meant literally," she said.  "You don't like it?"  She was trying not to smile but her eyes betrayed her.  "It makes you look so young, like a little boy, really."

He narrowed his eyes dramatically, frowning in jest, and folded his arms across his chest.  "That is precisely why I don't like it."  He laughed, but her teasing him made him feel like a boy.  Squirmy and out of his depth.

She looked him over, her eyes roaming over his head and face while she smiled.  "Well, that's too bad.  I like it a lot," she shrugged.  "And I learned something about you I didn't know."

He felt himself redden, so he looked down at the table.  "I feel like you already know everything about me," he said with a nervous laugh.  He looked up.  "But I know hardly anything about you," he added.

She raised an eyebrow.  He couldn't tell whether she was taken aback by him, or just amused.  She was confounding him again.

"Drinks," Cassandra announced.  She and Leliana had returned with four tankards, and distributed them around the table.  Leliana had come around the table to the far side, near his seat.

"Cullen, could I ask you to move down?  I would prefer to sit closer to the door," she said sweetly.  "Forgive me, it's just one of my quirks."

"Uh, of course," he said, and slid down the bench, across from the Inquisitor, who lifted her tankard.

"Well, cheers, everyone," she said.  "Thanks for keeping me company and being the best advisors."  Cassandra snorted and rolled her eyes.  "Oh, and Josephine, too," she added.

"And Josephine, too," Leliana echoed, lifting her own ale.  Everyone clanked their tankards, being sure not to miss anyone.  It was a confused shuffle which resulted in only a little spilled ale.  The Inquisitor and Cullen toasted each other last.  He nodded his head deferentially to her as their tankards touched, and she looked into his eyes as she sipped, her dark brown eyes shining.

The ale settled warmly in his belly.  His nerves were beginning to calm, but he couldn't deny to himself that he just wanted to be alone with her.  That his hands ached to touch her.  He thought just now, as a warmth spread across her smiling face, that she might want the same thing.  But he wanted more, too, more than he could even put into words.  More than he felt he deserved.  Too much to ask of her.  So for the time being, sharing a drink, as friends, had to be enough.

***

The night continued on, the group talking and laughing about nothing important.  Only occasionally did the conversation delve into Inquisition matters, threatening to drag everyone back into work mode, but each time one of them would stop it in its tracks, declaring, "This is not actually a meeting."  Everyone would laugh and agree.  After another round, Cullen felt not even the vestiges of his earlier pain, and very little of his nervousness.  And it was nice to be in her company.

"Leliana," the Inquisitor asked, "did you even notice that man of the Arlessa's was flirting with you?"  Her face was rosy with drink and she grinned teasingly.

Leliana gaped at her.  "He was not.  Which man?"  She looked up, thinking.

"He definitely was," she said, swallowing.  "That counselor or whatever.  The one next to you!"

Cullen laughed, shaking his head.  "I sort of hate I that missed this.  And I fear for the man now."  

Cassandra scrunched her nose.  "Was he the one who looked like King Alistair?"  The Inquisitor nodded.

The mention of the King of Ferelden made Cullen go a little cold.  He took a long drink of his ale and swallowed hard, his smile fading.  The King was not someone he liked to think about.

Leliana was still trying to remember him.  "He was like Alistair?  Ah, well, that's probably why I didn't notice," she giggled.

The Inquisitor shrugged.  "He wasn't in the best of moods when I met him, but I thought the King was quite handsome," she said, taking a drink and raising her eyebrows.

Cullen glanced up at her.  He tried desperately not to react.  It was utter foolishness to be jealous, she was simply being playful.  And no one, especially her, had any idea what he thought of the King, but he felt himself glowering.  It was his curse.  He could never hide how he felt.  So he had to come up with something to say.  "Well, not to be unpatriotic," he said, looking into his ale, "but I've heard the King is an absolute fool."  It came out a bit more sharply than he'd intended.  He drank, trying to hide behind his tankard, but the Inquisitor seemed to notice, and frowned a little.

Cassandra, however, just laughed.  "Well, Leliana, is he?"

Leliana cast her eyes up, smiling.  She chuckled, more to herself than at their conversation.  "He is handsome, in his way.  And definitely a fool.  But a good man," she said, pointedly, to Cullen.

Cullen shrugged and hoped he looked like he didn't care.

Cassandra shook her head.  "Oh, Cullen, have you even met him?"

He felt his mask beginning to slip.  Now he knew why the Orlesians wore real ones.  He was terrified that his face, which told everything, could somehow show them all the fear he kept locked away.  That the King of Ferelden figured so heavily in one of the lowest moments of his life.  "No," he lied, his voice cracking.

Leliana turned to him, almost imperceptibly, but he felt her eyes on him.

He drank more.  He began to realize why he didn't go out much.  He thought he wasn't good company in earlier years, when perhaps he just wasn't good company at all.

"Hey," the Inquisitor interrupted, leaning forward, "have any of you heard of the Black Emporium?"    

Her question shook him out of his dark thoughts.  Cullen looked at her, quirking his eyebrow at her.  She quickly cut her eyes to him, glancing at him knowingly, then turned back to the others.

"Uh, I believe it is in Kirkwall.  Some kind of shop?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes!" the Inquisitor said.  "Varric keeps telling me I should go there, but that I won't be able to afford anything.  What is it?"  She smiled broadly, her eyes sharp.  He knew what she was doing, changing the subject to save him from scrutiny, although he couldn't quite believe it.

"I've, uh, heard very strange things about it, actually," he said.  Then he thought perhaps she wasn't just playing.  "You don't really want to go there, do you?"

"Hmm," she said, her eyes narrowing.  "Depends on what you've heard."  She raised her eyebrows suggestively, and he smiled despite himself.

Leliana laughed.  "Have you had enough tonight?"

"What?" the Inquisitor said.  "I'm fine!  Just intrigued."

"Well, I probably have had enough," Cassandra offered.  "I started earliest.  And now I'm leaving."  She stood, her chair squeaking on the floor as she pulled away from the table.

"I think I will go, as well," Leliana said, rising.

Cullen wondered if he should offer to leave, if only just to ensure she got some rest after her long day, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her.  So he said nothing.

Leliana and Cassandra said goodnight, both of them giving him a look.  Cassandra's was encouraging, while Leliana's was amused, but slightly suspicious.  They walked out together.      

The Inquisitor turned to him brightly.  "I'm up for a third round.  If you are," she added, softly, placing a hand on the table between them.  "I don't want to keep you."

He felt himself softening in her presence, felt calmer, and happier, now that it was only the two of them.  Even though they sat in the middle of a tavern full of conversation, drinking, card playing, music, even though off-key voices slurred along with the bard's playing, even though the sloshing of ale behind the bar and disappointed groans of losers at cards punctured the level din, hardly any of it registered with him.

"I am," he said, leaning forward, held by her dark eyes.  "Please, keep me."

Chapter 4: An evening  ➳

[yourlipbalm]

The Dread Wolf

Pairing:  Solas x Reader Lavellan

Word Count:  2783

Warnings:  Sad.

A/N:  Post Inquisition.  Lots of Solavallan feels.  This is incomplete and I don’t think I will ever finish it, but still, I thought I should share it.

Summary:  Reader Lavellan reminisces and longs for Solas after the disbandment of the Inquisition.  An old friend brings hope to an otherwise bleak existence.

               I will never forget you.

               His voice was like tattered shreds of broken promises.  As sweet as the first taste on my lips and as cruel as the cold edge of a blade.  I heard it now, echoing like wisps in the dark; whispering of fading oaths and tokens of affection.

               I looked around at the sheltered cove with despairing nostalgia.  The rushing of the waterfall into the clear pool against the rock cliff seemed to lose its surreal beauty.  The majestic splendor of the elven statues that stood guard to the entrance of the cave dimmed, shedding their wonder.  Even the very moss underneath my bare feet seemed to lose the sheen and glow of tranquility.

               I knew this was a dream.  How I knew this, I was not entirely sure.  I was not even certain if this was a dream.  This place was heartbreakingly beautiful; very much like he was.  It was here that we had spent many hours; talking, laughing, and making love among many other sweet endeavors.  It was our own little sanctuary away from the Inquisition and Thedas itself.  But that was three years ago…a distant memory that still clung persistently to my heart.

               Also knowing that soon, as several times before, he would appear at the mouth of the cave, I turned expectantly.  Like a vision of magnificence, he stood there in his simple garb of cotton tunic and trousers.  I gasped with joy upon seeing his handsome features.

               “Solas.”

               The shattered cry that left my lips sounded agonized, almost like a sob.  My woeful mind, my aching body, my lonely heart, and my melancholy soul longed for him. I yearned for the softness of his touch, the warmth of his kisses, and the tenderness of his love.  It was a desire that pierced deep, so unfathomable that I do not think I could ever surface nor do I want to.

               He smiled at me sadly, the sapphire in his gaze darkening wretchedly.  I tried moving closer, willing my legs to step further, but my body stay rooted to the edge of the pool like I knew they would.  Nevertheless, I struggled to reach him, wishing upon everything in my life for this small blessing.

               “Solas, don’t leave me!” I called out terrified. “Please!”

               The rush of moisture brimmed on my eyelids, coursing down my cheeks as torment clawed within me.  I felt the onslaught of a thousand swords bleeding me dry in the form of tears.  My shoulders trembled as I wept and my very being felt distraught.

               I will never forget you, vhenan.

               “Solas!” I screamed and bolted upright from the pile of sheets that I had been laying on.  My chest heaved frantically, the tears still wet on my face.  I stared into the darkness of my tent seeing clearly in my mind the cove.  My throat was parched, the chill of night chafing at my bare skin.  Desolation choked me as I flung the sheets off. Stepping out into the cool darkness, I did not care that all I had on was the thin raiment I used for sleeping.

               Passing one of the aravels, I headed further into the forest away from camp.  The rest of the clan slumbered quietly as I slipped between huge trunks and tangled bushes. Stopping at a massive tree, I leaned against the rough bark and cried miserably.  The dreams or whatever they were came to me every night now, stronger and more vivid than the one before it.  They always left me painfully bereft and achingly drained.  I had vowed to myself that I would not rest until I found him again, but the torment of his absence had taken its toll on me.  Very seldom do I sleep now and thoughts of faraway memories always accosted my every waking moment.

               I hated how the anguish had reduced me to a lost and broken creature, and I could very well blame Solas for his abandonment, but the love that soared so readily inside me would not allow my heart to fault him.  Was I being selfish to desire him for my own?  To want him for the sake of our love?  Although his explanations of the Evanuris and the creation of the Veil astounded me, I refused to believe that he would destroy this world to restore Elvhenan.

               “Solas, come back to me,” I pleaded into the wind. “You said you did not want me to see what you have become, but you must be weaving these incurable dreams.  Do not lie to yourself into thinking you can leave so easily, when clearly you cannot!”

               Sighing heavily, I finally thought to myself that I had gone mad.  In the days following his departure in the elven ruins, I was steadfast in what I swore to upheld.  When I ordered the Inquisition disbanded, I promised that I would save Solas from himself whether he wanted me to or not.

               Now as the months passed, I slowly began to grieve like he had died.  I saw visions of him that I could not explain and visited the cove nightly like a vessel that needed to be constantly filled.  When silence was too much to bear, I often talked out loud as if he was there.  Of course, I never expected him to acknowledge or give any type of a sign.  This only further proved that I no longer could see reason for fear of losing him completely.

               “Are you well, da’len?” Keeper Deshanna asked softly as I chewed slowly on my food.  I looked at her face across the table.  The dark markings of the vallaslin was a sharp contrast to the ivory of her skin and the silver of her hair.  “You look troubled.”

               “I am fine,” I answered and swallowed.  She scrutinized me warily, concern in her green eyes.  I averted my glance, no longer hungry.  I stood up to leave, but she stopped me.

               “The dreams are getting worse…and so are you,” she pointed out.  “Perhaps it is time to let go of something you can no longer hold on to.”

               The tears that so eagerly sprung to my eyes blurred my vision as her meaning impaled my heart.  I knew that she meant well, but her concern somehow angered me. I walked away without saying a word, which was awfully rude, but at the moment, I did not care.

               Walking past several other clan members who eyed me curiously, I made my way to the training area.  It was cordoned off to the side as a safety precaution, but it was not far from the camp.  Striding to the table where an array of weapons were, the suffering in my chest gave way to fury as I hastily seized one of the longbows with my right hand.

               “Y/N, you cannot keep to this pain.  It has consumed you,” Keeper Deshanna spoke at my side.  Following me, she sighed with worry.  “Loss can be overcome, da’len.

               “No, it cannot!” I replied, bitterly.  I turned to glare at her, the spark of rage boiled in my chest.  “It can only be hidden, not truly healed.”

               “It can, if you allow it to,” she gently, advised. “You have not lost everything.”

               “Not lost everything?” I sneered, aghast.  “The Inquisition is done.  I was betrayed by one of my companions.  Lost my left hand,” I rambled heatedly, throwing the bow down in disgust.  “Found out that everything the hahren had taught us about the gods we worshipped was not entirely true.”

               I looked away crossly, the displeasure twisting uneasily within.

               “Abandoned by my one true love…tell me then, Keeper. How have I not lost everything?” I demanded, irritably.

               “As long as you have breath in your chest, then you have something.  And something may not be everything, but it’s a start,” Keeper Deshanna replied, wisely. I looked back at her wrinkled face, calm emerald eyes and felt the anger ebb away.  She stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly.

               “Do not walk the same path as Fen’Harel.  Yours is not the Din’anshiral, da’len.”

               I lowered my gaze sadly, feeling distressed and vastly forlorn.

               “I love him, Keeper,” I whispered, emotion filling my voice with woe.

               “Perhaps Fen’Harel knew his fate.  Perhaps…he left to protect you, knowing the way he tread only led to death,” she counseled, astutely.  Squeezing my shoulder with compassion, Keeper Deshanna consoled motherly.

               “I would have gladly walked beside him as I have done before,” I said, wistfully.  Her aged face frowned kindly.

               “Are you certain?  If your roles were reversed.  Would you not protect the one you love, even if it meant an eternity of separation?”

               I closed my eyes, understanding and loathing the truth of her words.  Deep it was, the guidance she gave me.  Even after discovering this, the pining love that yearned for him did not easily settle down.  It remained, weeks after this conversation and well into the next month.  It seemed time was a nasty friend, stretching it like frayed leather over rough wood.

               Reprieve came in the form of a letter hand delivered by none other than Scout Harding one early morning.  The likable dwarf was all smiles when she was escorted to me by two hunters.  She bowed reverently and exclaimed in her kind voice.

               “Inquisitor, I am so very glad to see you!”

               “You know I don’t go by that title no longer, Lace,” I reminded her, but she waved it off as if it was just some bothersome fly.

               “To me, you will always be the Inquisitor.  Old habits die hard,” Harding answered, grinning. I could not help but smile with her. She handed me an envelope with a wax seal.  “Courtesy of your previous Spymaster.”

               Using my right hand, I pried the paper open and read the note.  Letters in a familiar scrawl splashed across the page.  After reading it, I eyed Scout Harding with surprise.

               “Leliana wants to meet me?”

               “Yes, Your Worship.  It would probably be best if you met her.  She doesn’t think your clan is too fond of shemlen,” Harding explained, glancing quickly at the soon approaching elves behind me.  On that account, she would be correct.  The respect that Leliana showed by only sending a single person was so very akin to her personality that another smile curved on my lips.

               “Lead the way,” I replied and without further hesitation, I followed her back into the woods.  We walked for quite some time, through the tousled limbs of dense foliage until we reached a small copse where the trunks of trees sparsely stood. A small band of people bustled about and at the center stood Leliana in Gurn hide armor, a curved bow over her back and twin daggers sheathed at her sides.  When she saw me led by Harding, she hurried over and embraced me.

               “By the Divine, so good to see you, Y/N,” she greeted and grinned.  The blue of her eyes shimmered with friendly fondness.

               “Do not let Cassandra hear you say that,” I quipped and she laughed.  “What clandestine deeds have you been plotting?  What brings you here, old friend?”

               The joy in her azure gaze darkened and the smile faded from her pale face.  From a pocket at her belt, Leliana pulled out aged twine, nestled underneath was the inky smoothness of a bone.  I took it from her palm, pleasant remembrances coalesced into several lovely images.

               “This belonged to Solas,” I uttered softly, stroking the jaw bone.  “He always wore it.  How did you get this?”

               “It was found…in Skyhold,” Leliana expressed, darkly. I looked at her with surprise.

               “Skyhold?” I gasped, shocked.  “The fortress has been deserted since the Inquisition disbanded.”

               She crossed her arms as she often did when she was reluctant to convey information.  If it was anyone other than who she completely trusted, she would not be willing to divulge this pressing evidence.  I was glad that Leliana deemed me trustworthy.

               “Whispers of something that stirs behind the walls of Skyhold has reached the ears of my agents.  Something light of feet and agile as smoke has been spotted there,” she announced, warily.  “I dispatched one of my agents to discover what lies within.  It was Scout Harding that brought that back,” Leliana nodded to the wolf bone that I grasped.  I turned to peer at the dwarf, who had been standing to the side listening.

               “What did you find out, Lace?” I inquired as she stepped forth.  The auburn of her tightly coifed hair gleamed beneath the dappled hues of fractured sunlight.

               “Not much, I’m afraid.  A lot of dust and empty rooms, but nothing significant. Although, I did have the eerie feeling of being watched with unseen eyes.  I found the necklace in the atrium beneath the library,” Harding described as I lowered my gaze to stare at the black bone.  My heart softened as recollections of this very talisman rested against a strong chest that I used to frequently place my head on.

               “That is where Solas spent most of his time,” I said, blandly.  “But he rarely took this off.  It was important to him.  He would not have left it behind.”

               “I suspect that he had at some point been to Skyhold after the Inquisition dispersed.  For what or why, I don’t know,” Leliana theorized, firmly. “Knowing who he really is now is only proof that he has certain ways of entering and leaving without being detected.”

               My former Spymaster eyed me hopefully, strands of her crimson hair poked out from underneath the hood that she wore.

               “You and Solas were close.  Did he ever mention the significance of Skyhold?” Leliana questioned.  I frowned, confusion waltzing in my mind like a drunken fool.

               “Not that I can remember.  Tarasyl’an Te’las was once an elven stronghold.  Elven magic slumbered there since the fall of Arlathan.  Its’ secrets are now lost to time.”

               “Secrets that Solas alone knows,” Leliana confirmed. “He was the one that led us there. It cannot be a coincidence that the late Inquisition was rebuilt there, unless its hidden purpose was veiled from us all.”

               “What are you saying?” I asked her, candidly. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as if excited at what she was about to disclose.

               “Under false pretenses, Solas helped us finish Corypheus as a ruse for his own gain.  We inadvertently aided his plan all along.  You said so yourself, he means to destroy this world!”

               “He only seeks to restore what was lost.  He only desires to undo what he has done!” I argued, plainly.  Leliana glared at me, unsure she had heard right.  Narrowing her cobalt eyes, she fixed me with a skeptical gaze.

               “Do you really believe that?” she demanded, doubtfully. “This is Solas!  The Dread Wolf, the one who tricked the elven gods!  The one who deceived us!  How could you believe his lies now, when he all but smite you down when you were already broken?!”

               I listened to her words with a heavy heart, knowing that a part of me agreed with her judgement.  What she said mirrored the truth of thousands of years of lost history and now it was repeating once again.

               No matter what comes, I want you to know that what we had was real.

               His voice echoed like the thunder during a storm and felt like the cold rain upon my skin.  The love that I had for him roared like the call from the maw of a dragon, casting down the shackles of certainty that held me fast.

               “My friend, I fear you are the only one who does not see him for what he really is.  His deception has made you vulnerable.  He has completely taken over your mind, body and soul!” Leliana stated with concern.

               May the Dread Wolf take you.

               “You do not know him like I do, Leliana.  He is not devious.  He is not evil,” I claimed, adamantly.  She glanced toward the trees in thought, contemplating my declaration. After a moment, she returned her sapphire eyes to my own.

               “Then help me prove it.  Come back with me to Skyhold,” Leliana requested.  “Perhaps, there are answers there that can appease your heart and my mind.”

               Determination etched in her fair face, emblazoned like bright runes upon the bloodstone blade of a great sword.  The unwavering purpose that I saw there lifted my spirits up a notch. Leliana was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt despite her own beliefs and that was the mark of true friendship.  I smiled and she returned with a grin of her own.

               “To Tarasyl’an Te’las, we shall go.”

[lavellansthree]

Recruiting the Iron Bull ((aka The First Meeting))

Lavellan was awestruck when they reached the Storm Coast. Not by the sea or mountainous terrain or even the ridiculous amount of rain. He had already seen that during his initial journey to Haven. No, what put him in awe was the mercenary group he was there to scout. Their numbers were small but they were a devastating force.

He watched on momentarily as the lumbering man with horns- presumably the Iron Bull- swung a great axe like it was nothing, completely cleaving three men who were preparing to attack him. It was definitely a sight to behold.

“Herald?” Cassandra called, drawing her sword and preparing to advance down the hill into the fray, “Shall we?”

“Of course,” the elf said with a quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts before drawing his own sword and leading the charge. Cassandra was right on his heels as Varric and Solas began to let loose a volley of ranged attacks.

They made quick work of the armored men, hacking and slashing through their ranks. Solas made things easier by freezing many of the soldiers in their tracks for the warriors to shatter and Varric’s explosive bolts causing confusion.

Once the fight had ended, Lavellan began to make his way to the Qunari. It was time for an introduction.

“Chargers! Stand down!” the Qunari called, waving his lieutenant over as Lavellan drew closer, “Krem, how’d we do?”

Krem stopped just in front of the larger man and began to report. “Five or six wounded, Chief, no dead.” This caused the Qunari to scan his wounded men who were sitting near an old beached boat, a blonde Dalish elf tending their injuries. Cassandra had led Solas over to offer assistance.

“That’s what I like to hear,” the horned giant said, a grin spreading across his face “Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks.” Krem nodded his head before moving on to inform the rest of the Chargers of their new orders.

As the young man was walking away, Lavellan continued to the Iron Bull. He was surprised by the height difference. The redhead was unusually tall for an elf, a full head taller than most of his clan mates and able to look most humans in the eye. With this man, however, he had to crane his neck to look him in the face. He was also surprised by the thoughts that followed, but that would be something he’d look back on later.

“So you’re with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it,” the larger man said, his stance becoming relaxed as he peered down at the elf, “C'mon, have a seat. Drinks are coming.”

“Iron Bull, I presume?” Lavellan said as he watched the large man strap his battle axe onto his back.

“Yeah, the horns usually give it away,” the Iron Bull said with a grin, motioning for the elf to follow. The larger man led Levallan away from the others and sat down on a large rock formation, smoothed over by the wind and tide. It was quieter and away from the bustle of mercenaries. It would be easier to speak.

Lavellan came to a stop in front of the Qunari, sheathing his sword and resting his hand on the pommel. The elf’s ear twitched at the sound of crunching sand and looked to his right to see the young lieutenant making his way over.

“I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant,” Iron Bull said as the man came to a stop beside the elf

“Good to see you again,” he said with a nod to the elf before turning back to Iron Bull, “Throatcutters are done, Chief.”

“Already?” the Qunari asked incredulously, the look in his eye stern, “Have ‘em check again. I don’t want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem.” Iron Bull chuckled softly as Krem rolled his eyes.

Krem scoffed and grinned at the Qunari, crossing his arms over his chest. “None taken. At least a bastard knows who his mother was,” the Tevinter shot back, grin growing wider, “Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?” With that, Krem turned and walked away, returning to deliver new orders.

Iron Bull shook his head minutely, careful of his wide horns. “So.. You’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive, but we’re worth it…” the larger man said, looking back to Lavellan, leaning his elbows against his knees, “And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.”

“How much is this going to cost me, exactly,” Lavellan asked, green eyes narrowing as he studied the Qunari’s face. He wondered how the man lost his eye.

“It wouldn’t cost you anything personally, unless you want to buy drinks later,” Iron Bull said with a chuckle, “Your ambassador- what’s her name- Josephine? We’d go through her and get the payments set up. The gold will take care of itself. Don’t worry about that. All that matters is we’re worth it.”

Lavellan nodded his head as he listened to the larger man speak. He glanced over to the mercenaries at work, checking over the bodies of fallen foes and collecting loot. “The Chargers look like an excellent company,” he decided as he looked back to Iron Bull.

“They are,” Iron Bull said in agreement, sitting up a little straighter, “But you’re not just getting the boys. You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I’m your man. Whatever it is- Demons, dragons? The bigger, the better.” The large man rose to his feet and began to walk along the shoreline, motioning for Lavellan to walk with him. The elf glanced back at Cassandra, making eye contact with the Seeker before following.

“And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off,” the Qunari said as he came to a stop, turning to look to the elf again. The size difference struck the elf again. He felt small and vulnerable when faced with the larger man and it stirred an odd feeling in his gut. “Ever head of the Ben-hassrath?”

Lavellan tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he looked over the Qunari’s face. “I’ve never heard of it,” he said honestly. He had seen Qunari before, his clan had even traded with them for supplies and unique crafts. They never really spoke of their people or culture, however.

“It’s a Qunari order,” Iron Bull began, crossing his arms over his chest which the elf just now realized was bare save for a leather strap crossing over from one shoulder. “They handle information, loyalty, security, all of it. Spies, basically. Or we’ll, we’re spies. The Ben-hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that can cause trouble everywhere. I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge and send reports on what’s happening.”

Lavellan’s brows furrowed as he stared up at the Qunari, a frown marring his features. He was more confused than surprised or shocked by the Qunari sharing this information willingly. He crossed his arms over his chest as Iron Bull continued. “But I also get reports from Ben-hassrath agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, l’ll share them with your people.”

“You’re a Qunari spy…” the elf began, adjusting his stance slightly, “And… You just told me?”

“Whatever happened at that Conclave thing, it's bad,” Iron Bull replied with a nod, “Someone needs to get that Breach closed. So whatever I am, I’m on your side.”

“You still could have hidden what you are.”

“From something called the Inquisition?” Iron Bull said with a chuckle and a shrug, “I’d have been tipped sooner or later. Better you hear it right up front from me.” Right, to promote trust. The elf understood that.

“What would you send home in these reports of yours?”

“Enough to keep my superiors happy. Nothing that will compromise your operations,” the larger man replied, nodding his head appreciatively at the questions. The elf liked his answers. “The Qunari want to know if they need to launch an invasion to stop the whole damn world from falling apart. You let me send word of what you’re doing, it’ll put some minds at ease. That’s good for everyone.”

Lavellan nodded his head before brushing some of his rain soaked hair from his forehead. “What’s in these Ben-hassrath reports you’re offering to share?”

“Enemy movements, suspicious activity, intriguing gossip. It’s a bit of everything,” Iron Bull replied smoothly, “Alone, they’re not worth much. But if your spymaster is worth a damn, she’ll put them to good use.”

“She?” Lavellan asked, his ears perking slightly.

The Qunari chuckled softly at the surprise in the Elf’s tone. “I did a little research,” he supplied, “Besides, I’ve always had a weakness for redheads.”

Lavellan stared blankly at the giant of a man as he let his last sentence sink in. He felt the tips of his ears burn with an odd sense of embarrassment but he refused to break eye contact.

He cleared his throat as Iron Bull gave him a little smirk. “Right,” he muttered softly before speaking a little louder, “What’s the Qunari word for awkward?” That caused the Qunari to bark with laughter.

Lavellan cleared his threat again, hoping the blush wouldn’t spread from his ears. “You run your reports by Leliana before sending them,” he said, hoping to appear authoritative despite his blush and possibly embarrassed expression, “You send nothing she doesn’t approve. If this turns out to be a trick or if your reports compromise the Inquisition, Cassandra will eat you alive.”

He could hear the Seeker’s disgusted grunt from somewhere behind him, making the elf bite the inside of his cheek. He didn’t want to laugh after making such a bold statement, though he knew he was going to pay for that later.

The Iron Bull barked out another laugh before replying, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Boss.”

[twirlinginthefade]

Home Is Where the Heart Is 12/?

In Which: Magic, Avvar and a new friend.

Rowan hadn't slept for two days.

After she came back from her excursion, she had begun to experiment with her magic. First, she had lit a candle with a breath (Thank you Practical Magic), then she made a ball of light hover for a few seconds above her head before she lost the focus to maintain it.

She realized quickly that the main part of Thedasian magic was focus and feeling. Some magic, like hurling fire and lightning, was feelings based, the instinct to fight. The focus was better for larger things, like making the wards that now littered the wall of her cabin.

She also found that half the books Cassandra had given her were absolute bullshit. The books detailed the wards as things that not only were built as symbols without feeling but also as things that had to be layered and not mixed together.

Rowan threw that out the window the moment she made an electric green don't look at me ward mixed with a lemon-scented go the fuck away one. The result made her notebook glow a little after it was put on, and the cabin now always smelled faintly like a lemon meringue pie. But she was happy and now neither Athras or Vanyel touched her notebook, even if it was less than a foot away.

Now to make one that made it so the windows were actually blocked during night-time, instead of covered with a piece of cloth that did nothing to keep the heat in.

She was in the middle of putting a white light spell and a church bell sound spell on a stone when Athras barged in shouting.

“Herald! I need you to come with me!” Athras grabbed Vanyel off the bed (to his squeaky displeasure) and put him in a bag as she also grabbed another bag from a peg behind the door.

“Whoa! What’s going on?” Rowan stood, waving away the diagram and storing the magic somewhere behind her heart.

“Avvar. A whole troupe of them are coming down the mountain. We need to get you to safety” Athras led Rowan out the door with a hand on her back, glad the Herald was already awake.

“Avvar, avvar... wait, the mountain tribesmen? Aren’t they normally peaceful?” Rowan waved off the hand, taking Vanyel out of the bag and cradling him.

“Normally. But normally only a few come down the mountain at a time for hunting. That is not a hunting party” Athras pointed to something beyond the gates and Rowan saw a small contingent of men and women in armor, riding-

“Are those nugs!?”

“Nuggalopes. The Avvar like to ride them into battle.”

The two women watched the group march, painted and solemn.

“I want to go down there” Athras gave Rowan a horrified look.

“What! No, you are going into the Chantry where it is safe”

Rowan smacked the hand about to grab her arm. “I appreciate the concern Scout Lavellan, but the Chantry will be no safer if they are here for battle.” She handed Vanyel to Athras, and walked away, her movements full of danger and curiosity.

“Sister Leliana is going to kill me”

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

Rowan wove through the crowd, ignoring the looks that the villagers gave her as she went the opposite way of the tide. More than once, someone in scout armor tried to drag her away, only to be met with a glare.

Once she arrived at the gates, she found Cassandra and Cullen standing by them, arguing about what to do.

“Yes, they may be here peacefully Cassandra, but what if they aren't? We are not defensible here. If they try to overwhelm us, who knows how much damage could be caused” Cullen said, watching the troop. His hand was on the hilt of his sword and Rowan was surprised to see that neither warrior noticed her walking up.

“Then we fight until we cannot anymore. But, for right now, we need to think about this logically. If they wanted to lay siege, they would not be marching with clear numbers. Let us deal with this with words before swords.” Cassandra said back. She frowned, looking side to side. “Maker, where is Lady Montilyet?”

“I didn't see her coming down if that what you mean” Both warriors jumped as Rowan walked up, giving her wide-eyed looks.

“Herald! You should be in the Chantry! Where is Scout Lavellan?” Cassandra looked behind her, ready to berate the scout.

“I left her behind with Vanyel. You really think they want to destroy Haven?”

Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples. “We are unsure, but it is best to prepare for all situations,” He looked at the curious expression on Rowan’s face as she watched the nuggalopes get closer. “I don't suppose I could convince you to go back in the gates?”

A soft smile graced Rowan’s face. “Nope. Sorry,”

“Then stay behind me. Let our Ambassador do the talking” Cullen nodded to Josephine as she walked up, her gown slightly out of place.

“Herald, shouldn’t you-”

“Be in the Chantry?” Rowan gave her a raised brow. “Nope”

Josephine opened her mouth to argue when Cassandra cut her off with a shake of her head. “She won't go back Lady Josephine.” She eyed Cullen. “Wonder where she gets her stubbornness from”

“She’s your soulmate too Cassandra”

“Shh! They’re here!” Rowan leaned forwards as a few of the Avvar dismounted and walked towards them on foot. Cullen nudged her behind him as they came forward, hand on his sword hilt.

“Greetings lowlanders. We are Avvar from the White Raven tribe. We come peacefully to trade and feast with your people. Will you welcome us?” One of the band spoke, a tall woman dressed in painted leathers and braided back chestnut locks. She eyed Cullen’s sword and raised a brow at Rowan peeking around him. Rowan gave her a quiet smile in response.

Josephine stood forwards, her hands loose by her sides. “Apologies for the hostile welcome. We are still establishing our outpost and we were unsure of your troop's intentions. It has been a... difficult time to adjust to.”

The fore-woman nodded. “The Lady has been wounded, is true. But in time such as this, we must band together in order to seal her wounds” The woman thumped her fist against her chest. “I am Eina An Tela O White Raven. You are?”

Josephine blinked at the formal introduction and followed suit with the salute. “I am Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva. This is our Commander Cullen Rutherford of Ferelden and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast of Nevarra.”

“A lowlander noble, a dog-lord and a dragon slayer? Interesting group. And the one hiding like a fennec in a cave of Varghest?”

Cullen bristled on Rowan’s behalf before she punched his arm. “Apologies for my soulmates Eina O White Raven. They can be protective.” She came out from behind Cullen with a smile and came forwards. “I am Rowan Kent, daughter of Moira. It is a pleasure to meet you” She too gave a salute, holding her fist over heart as she bowed.

The Avvar woman laughed, coming forwards and slinging an arm over Rowan's shoulders. “Not such a fennec after all then. Perhaps a young wolf?”

Rowan laughed with the woman, surprising her soulmates. “Perhaps. Come, be welcome in our halls. We do not have much to trade, but I am sure we can make due” She raised a brow at Josephine who followed Rowan’s lead by having the soldiers nearby open the doors.

“Shall we negotiate a trade agreement?” Josephine fell in line with Rowan and Eina, while Cullen and Cassandra followed close behind, both glaring at the hand around Rowan’s shoulders.

“I am Huntmaster, not an augur.” She turned back, motioning for the rest of the ones on foot. Two broad-shouldered men and another woman, dressed in cloth instead of armor approached, the men flanking the woman. “These are our augurs. Heimarr Ar Amund, Del Ar Amund and my wife Madri An Amund.” She gave Rowan a wide smile. “Magic run well through Amund’s line. Many of his children are blessed by the Mountain Father with gifts of fire and ice.”

Rowan noticed Cullen tense, remembering his reaction to her own magic. She tapped his hand and smiled at him when he looked her way. ‘It’s okay’ she mouthed, trying to reassure him. He nodded, loosening his shoulders but kept a hand on his sword.

“Welcome augurs of White Raven. Shall we discuss trade?” Josephine smiled charmingly at the Avvar and Madri smiled back.

“If you wish. Lead on” Madri motioned forwards and Rowan squeaked as Eina leaned down and kissed her wife. Madri and Del followed Josephine into the Chantry, which was finally allowing people out. Some of the people crinkled their nose at the Avvar, while others stared with open curiosity as some of the Avvar began to set up tents and fires near the iced-over lake.

“Dog-lord! Come, spar with me!” Eina let go of Rowan to clap Cullen on the shoulder, grinning. The commander gave a smiling Rowan and Cassandra shocked look as the Huntmaster walked away with him, excited to test his mettle.

“I think the Commander is going to need some assistance Herald” Cassandra eyed the remaining Avvar, who stood silently near the two of them. “Will you be alright by yourself?”

Rowan snorted. “I'll be fine Cassandra. I’ll give Heimarr a tour, and then meet you at the training fields”

Cassandra nodded and gave Heimarr a look, the Avvar breaking eye contact after a moment. “As you wish Herald”

As Cassandra walked away, Rowan sighed, sliding a hand over her face.

“Sorry about that, Cassandra is very protective of me. Where would you like to see first?” She watched Heimarr’s eyes widen and a smile appeared on his painted face.

“Wherever you will grant me leave, little wolf” He replied, seeing Rowan’s eyes widen in turn.

Oh dear.

[dragon-age-yo]

The Love of the Hero

i made a fan fiction because why not

Summary:

The Hero of Ferelden visits Skyhold by request of both Leliana and the Inquisitor. But when she arrives, things do not go as planned.

“If I recall correctly,” said Zevran from behind Elissa, “Denerim is roughly the size of Skyhold.”

Elissa smiled. “At least here we don’t have dwarves screaming at us to buy their goods. Or, maybe Skyhold does have screaming dwarves and they just haven’t noticed us yet.”

Zevran laughed at that, patting his friend on the shoulder. “You always know what to say.”

“Hopefully Leliana has prepared everyone for us. I sent word when we were coming almost a week ago. I would rather not have everyone asking for an autograph on their swords or shields.”

Before they had even reached the gates of Skyhold, and young Dalish elf in odd pajamas greeted them.

“Warden-Commander!” she exclaimed. “Leliana told us you were coming, but we had no idea when. Some scouts saw you approaching and I decided to give you a proper welcome to Skyhold.”

Elissa gave her friend a look, but saw that he was looking at the young Dalish with interest.

“Don’t even think about it,” she muttered, walking to the woman. “Where is Leliana? I was hoping to-“

“Here.”

Elissa peeked behind the smaller woman to see Leliana and two others standing just a few yards away. The Hero recognized the blonde as the Templar who had been trapped by blood mages. What was his... Cullen! That was his name!

Cullen seemed to have recognized her as well, as his face turned a slight shade of pink.

“This is Commander Cullen,” the Dalish said. “Leader of the Inquisition’s forces. Next is Lady Josephine, our diplomat. And of course you know Leliana.”

“Commander now, eh? What happened to the man cowering in a cage?” Elissa asked, bitterness in her tone. She was still angry over his request to kill all the mages.

“I am no longer that man,” he said quietly, looking at his feet.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any dirt on you, Lady Josephine. But it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She looked to the Dalish elf next. “And you are...?”

“This is the Inquisitor - Lady Lavellan,” Leliana said, her eyes never leaving Elissa’s face.

“I’ve heard tales of you, Inquisitor. Many I can assume are true, seeing how we can never get a moment’s peace in Thedas.”

The Inquisitor laughed. “Come. I’ll let you and Leliana catch up, and we’ll meet in the War Room when you’re ready.”

Everyone, including Zevran (who gave her a wink as he walked), left Leliana and Elissa standing in the courtyard.

“Leliana-“

“Three years,” Leliana whispered. Her tone was... strange, to say the least. She had never used it with Elissa, but the Hero had heard her use it before on people she was angry with. “It’s been three years since we last saw each other, and four months since you last wrote me.”

“I wrote you-“

“That letter was for the Inquisitor, not me, and you know it,” Leliana interrupted. “I didn’t know where you were for those four months. I didn’t know if you were dead, or captured, or-“

“I’m here now.”

The Spymaster shook her head. “Yes, but you walk into my new home like nothing has changed.”

Elissa’s brows furrowed. “Nothing has changed, my lo-“

“Do not say it.” Leliana rubbed at her temples. “I don’t even know what to say to you anymore. Four years can change a person.”

She began walking away, but the Hero would have none of that. She followed Leliana, grabbing her elbow, but was met with a hard hand to her cheek.

The crack carried throughout the courtyard, and almost everyone became quiet.

Elissa stumbled back, a hand going to her cheek where Leliana has struck her.

“You came here for the Inquisitor. I suggest you do what needs to be done and leave.”

She walked away again, and Elissa watched as the love of her life turned her back on her.

The War Room was insufferable. Everyone was quiet, and the Inquisitor kept glancing between Elissa and Leliana.

Apparently someone had told her of their argument.

Zevran was like a source of control for the Hero. She knew he would keep her there for as long as needed, but he was also a comfort. After all, he was the only one who had stayed with her all these years.

“So you have heard the Calling?” Lavellan asked suddenly, making Elissa snap back to reality.

“Yes,” she answered. “But I know it shouldn’t be my time. I’ve only been a Warden for a decade, and I shouldn’t be hearing it for a few more years.”

“Stroud said something similar,” came Cullen’s voice. “The Warden’s are hearing a fake Calling. It’s scaring them, and they’ve gone to drastic measures to prevent future Blights from happening.”

“So, we’re dangerous again.” Elissa sighed. “I’m not sure what I’m here for.”

The Inquisitor answered. “You were requested here because of your knowledge of the Blight. Can they truly stop it once and for all?”

“Not with the way you’ve said they’re doing it. Bringing in demons from the Fade is never a good idea.”

Lavellan nodded, looking back at the map. “Then we must stop them before they make things worse. You’re all dismissed. I have to... think things over.”

Everyone left the War Room, but Elissa saw the Inquisitor’s sorrow before the door closed.

Apparently Morrigan had joined the Inquisition as well. Though Elissa was happy to see her friend, she was not in the best mood.

“Leliana has changed, my friend,” Morrigan said, watching the Hero out of the corner of her eye. “But hopefully she will see reason.”

Elissa snorted. “I doubt it. We’re both very stubborn.”

Morrigan frowned. “You’re leaving already?”

“The Inquisitor has no more need of me, and I still have to find a way to stop the Calling. I’m sure everyone will do just fine without me.”

“It’s been so long, Elissa. Can’t you stay for a few more days? You can always come talk to me.”

“I’m afraid not. I’m needed elsewhere. The Inquisitor seems to be doing fine on her own.”

The mage nodded. “Then I will leave you to your own decisions. I hope I will see you again before the Calling takes you.”

Elissa smiled, closing her pack. “And you as well, friend.”

As Morrigan left, a new person walked in.

“Zevran, I told you- oh.” Elissa put her pack over her shoulders. “What do you want?”

Leliana was looking anywhere but her. “I am sorry for my outburst earlier,” she said. “These are difficult times.”

“You never need to apologize to me, Leli.”

Leliana took in a shaky breath. “Even after I was violent with you, you still forgive me. I don’t deserve you.”

“And I never deserved you, but here we are.”

They were both silent for a few moments, Leliana looking out the window and Elissa looking at her.

The Spymaster took a step closer. “Can we still make this work? I mean, with the Calling-“

“I’m working on it. But I’m afraid I’ll have to leave soon.”

“Oh,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “Are you staying until morning?”

“No. Unless someone can convince me otherwise, I’ll be leaving in a few hours. The Inquisitor no longer has need for me, and you-“

“What if I asked you to stay?” Leliana asked, finally looking at her.

Elissa smiled. “You know I would do anything for you.”

Leliana took that as an invitation, and walked until her face was inches in front of Elissa’s.

The Hero didn’t even know if she was breathing.

Until Leliana put their lips together. That was when she let out a sigh of relief.

Though their relationship would bend, it would never break.

[twirlinginthefade]

Home Is Where The Heart Is 8/?

In Which: More soulmates! (to the tune of More Wolfjob!)

The doors to the Chantry opened, admitting the three women. They unknowingly fell into a V, Rowan taking lead Justinia’s former hands on either side. Cassandra watched Rowan from behind, inspecting the smoothness of her face and even stride in her legs. There was no sign of a breakdown, contrary to the tear tracks they had seen on her face.

“Herald” Rowan turns her head slightly towards the Seeker, hazel eyes still fixed forwards. “Does the mark trouble you? I noticed it sparking earlier when we were approaching Haven”

Rowans head tilted slightly and she hummed. “It aches a bit, but nothing I can't handle. It's no worse than my leg on a cold day” She turned fully to Cassandra, a bright smile on her face. “Don't worry about me”

“Will you tell us if it is?” Leliana asked in an edged tone.

There was a pause until Rowan admitted very quietly “Only if it is necessary. Otherwise I will deal with it. Just like I always have” Their conversation was cut short by the doors at the end of the hall opening.

The contents of the room were prettier than before, Rowan was surprised to see.

A man, late thirties to early forties, in armor was pouring over a set of papers in in his hands, blonde hair styled carefully around his face. His eyes flickered up when the three of them entered, but went back to his papers when he saw no threat. His hand never left his sword pommel.

The other occupant was a true Lady. Her dress was cloth-of-gold, accented by shades of dark blue that looked even more vibrant against her smooth, darker skin. Her pen scratched against the board she held in her hands and unlike the man, once she looked up, her hazel eyes stayed locked on Rowan, pen tucked into a small notch in her board while Rowan placed Vanyel on the floor.

“Rowan. May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces” Cassandra motioned to the man, him finally looking up from his papers.

He sighed slightly. “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear we lose many more before this is over”. He placed his papers down and studied the map closer as Rowan took a sharp breath.

Oh.

“Lastly, Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat” Leliana smiled at the introduction of the Lady and Rowan, plainly friends with the beautiful woman.

Josephine smiled brightly at her friend's soulmate. “I have heard much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Rowan began to laugh, a hysterical edge cutting into the giggle, covering her mouth with both hands. Her companions exchanged worried looks until Rowan turned to the Commander, a small smile on her lips.

“Well Commander, I have faith you will lead them correctly” He looked up sharply at Rowan’s words, eyes widening. He exchanged a look with Leliana and Cassandra, who gave him a bewildered look.

She then turned to the wide-eyed Josephine, a wry twist on her lips. “As for us my Lady, I feel there is an imbalance of information between us. Perhaps we can fix that?”

The silence in the room was deafening and Rowan’s smile began to fade. “Ah. Well, now I’ve made it awkward” She shifted slightly, making Vanyel squeak from where he sat on her shoe.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I suppose Sister Leliana has no need of introductions?”

“The Herald and I know each other well enough” Leliana confirmed, looking Rowan up and down before looking at the blush across Josephine's cheeks. “We will discuss our shared bond later. For now we must focus on the task at hand”

Rowan cleared her throat and nodded, automatically going into parade rest. “Cassandra and Leliana say you all have a plan?” She inspects the faces of her soulmates for a moment before Cassandra stepped forwards.

Then chaos erupted.

Cullen vied deeply for the Templars (which apparently didn't like mages, and Cullen used to be a Templar, so awkward), Cassandra had a much tamer want for the Templars, while Leliana and Josephine both argued for the mages. Rowan just watched, trying to absorb the information presented.

Finally, Josephine cut the argument off. “Unfortunately, neither side will even speak to us yet.” She frowned at her board. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition. And you specifically” Josephine motioned to Rowan who blinked in surprise.

“Wow. That was quick. Took them what, 3, 4 days?”

Cullen scowled. “Shouldn’t them be deciding who the next Divine will be?”

Ignoring Cullen, Josephine shook her head. “It scares them that people call you, a mage, the Herald of Andraste. Combined with your amount of marks, it makes for a compelling argument.”

“Wait, what about my marks?” Rowan stood straighter, no longer in rest.

The table looked at eachother before Leliana spoke up. “The Chantry sees soulmates as a solitary triad at most. It was dictated long ago that those with more than two Marks are sin by Chantry law. In so far, we know you have 6 soulmates. Chancellor Roderick is only too happy to share this fact with Val Royeaux.” Her full mouth dipped for a moment before going blank again.

Rowan frowned. “Well, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” She sighed and rubbed the Mark on her wrist, the silver letters catching the light. “And to make it clear, I have 14 Marks. And I had not met any of my mates until I met Leliana and Cassandra.”

“So the others. They could be anyone?” Cassandra frowned.

“We will need to ensure that the Herald is protected from all sources. Including her soulmates.” Leliana caught Rowan’s narrowed eyes. “Just until we can vet them.”

Rowan caught on and her eyes widened. “You think someone will fake a Mark”

“It is a very likely chance. We cannot take any risks.”

Rowan covered her face with her hands. “Wonderful. Next, you're going to tell me I'm in danger of assassination.”

Utter silence. She peeked out and saw that none of her companions were looking at her. “Goddammit”

“That is why we have assigned Scout Lavellan to your protection detail. She will be staying in your cabin and will be training with you until you have been deemed sufficient in combat. And then she will be staying on as your bodyguard.” Cassandra explained to Rowan’s displeasure.

“Also, you will be expected to finish your mage training. May I assume you were part of a circle? You do not have the look of an apostate.” Josephine eyed Rowan, from her only slightly callused hands to very light tan on her freckled skin.

Rowan made a noise of confusion. “What circle?”