#leliana x female inquisitor

[lavellanhell]

So obviously the goal is to establish the Inquisition to serve as an organization that will bring peace to the people and solve all threats. At least that's what they said they read from Justinian's writings.

Leliana went to send a message to the mages and templars. At least one must join in order for us to have enough power to close the breach.

Whether the crows flew in with the message safely or not…

... no reply reached Heaven. Not from either of them.

And so Josephine decided that it was necessary to officially announce the creation of the Inquisition and its interests. Cullen was so upset that even though he's normally a neat freak, he nailed the plaque to the door crookedly.

I don't really understand human politics, but it was clear that a lot of people didn't like the Inquisition. And especially to those who were among the dignitaries of the Chantry. Cassandra knew that the action would soon provoke a reaction, so she began gathering the Inquisition army. For now, it was made up of volunteers, survivors and refugees.

Commander Cullen threw out contacts among his Templar friends who would be willing to join our cause. And indeed some came. Commander did a great job training the soldiers.

Leliana also soon developed a network of spies from her contacts. And Josephine was also active - she actively sought out persons among the nobles and other influential personalities who could contribute some material gift or at least a good word in certain circles.

Even though the numbers weren't high yet, soon Haven was too small for us. In addition to soldiers, merchants and volunteers, crowds of refugees began to flow here, seeking comfort and pinning their hopes on us. To the Inquisition.

[herald-divine-hell]

Creeping Dreams and Warm Skin

Summary: A drabble of Leliana wanting cuddles with Inquisitor Trevelyan.

Coldness crept over her. She stretched her hands. Reached out and grasped something soft, something that bundled into wrinkles as Leliana’s fingers pressed deeper, wrapped around the smooth skin beneath. 

A shirt and skin warmed to her touch. Alexandra’s heat swelled off her, planting gentle kisses to her palm. And Leliana was cold, so very cold. Even in sleep, the thoughts threatened to crawl out, the ones bearing poisoned daggers and cruel fangs. 

With lazy strength, Leliana drew Alexandra flushed against her. Her face pressed against that dark mane, sighing. And against that warmth, the grief fled one more night.

[go-fornicate-yourself]

Memes of my DA Ocs bc Nobody Asked

[homiest88]

Letter from the Hero of Ferelden - Male Inquisitor and Female Warden

To His Worship, Inquisitor Lavellan

I appreciate your warning regarding Corypheus. Fortunately, my own search has taken me out of the area where the supposed magister is operating, and while I have encountered challenges of my own, they have not involved any weakness related to my Grey Warden Abilities.

As I have little useful information to offer, please accept the accompanying gifts instead. If, in my quest, I find anything that may be of use to you in your fight against Corypheus , I will send it to you immediately.

I have also included a note of a personal nature for Leliana. I was not there for the death of Divine Justinia, but I know it will have hurt her terribly. While her wits and skill are amazing, Leliana’s greatest strength lies in her faith, and to have Justinia die strikes at her very core. I beg you, if she is faltering, help her find her way back to the light.

In closing, I wish you luck. The world of shemlen is a difficult one for our kind, and I can only imagine the pressure of leading the Inquisition, an organization dedicated to the Chantry, while staying true to the Way of the Three Trees. May Myhtal protect you in your quest, and Andruil bless your hunt.

Yours,

Warden-Commander Mahariel of Ferelden

[anneapocalypse]

Anne's Dragon Age Femslash!

Happy Femslash February! Have a list of all the F/F fics I've written for Dragon Age so far. Listed from shortest to longest. Ratings are noted here; please check AO3 tags for full list of warnings/content notes.

Herald's Rest. Female Trevelyan/Sera, 370 words, rated M. The Inquisitor finds a respite.

In Darkness Enveloped. Cassandra/Leliana, 1800 words, rated E. The Conclave is destroyed. The Divine is dead. The Left Hand and Right Hand are at odds, and at loose ends. It's the worst of times. It's certainly the worst possible time for this.

What We Can Do Together. Shianni/Briala, 2000 words, rated T. Briala has never called her away from Denerim before, so Shianni can only assume this is important.

Gifts of the Hunt. Female Mahariel/Morrigan, 13000 words, rated M. Lyna Mahariel follows Morrigan through the eluvian, leaving behind her life with the Wardens and with her Dalish clan. With only each other, Morrigan's child, and the magic of a long-forgotten past, what kind of future will the two of them have together?

No Woman Rules Alone. Anora Mac Tir/Female Tabris, 34000 words, rated E. Warden Tabris convinced Anora and Alistair to marry for the good of Ferelden, to unite the lands against the darkspawn. They have settled into a functional partnership and even friendship, but there is no love between them and they both know it. Over time, Anora finds that it is the Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine who has won not only her respect, but her heart.

[crowinkwriting]

Tranquisitor

[Reposting of my old fanfic. A Solas x Trevelyan story and with a lot of cannon divergence. Hoping for 2 uploads a week.]

Chapter 1:

Olive struggled as she was dragged through the hall. Thanks to the cuffs restraining her she couldn’t use her magic and her smaller size didn’t help her against the two Templars trying to bring her to her destination. She kept pulling and pushing in some hope to get away but it was pointless.

She knew there was nothing she could do to escape but maybe she could slow them down. Just a few more seconds before she would have to meet her fate. Eventually though after all the struggling and begging they eventually made it to the door. This was the end of the line and Olive knew it. ‘This is it?’ Olive asked herself.

The young mage looked between the two Templars in hopes maybe just maybe they’d let her go. However the two just faced the door waiting for it to open. Any sympathy, regret, or common ground they had was gone. These people had spent years around each other but now Olive found no familiarity and part of her blamed herself.

“Please, I didn’t do it.” The mage begged but neither of the Templars said anything as the door finally opened.

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

‘Please, I didn’t do it.’ Olive pleaded in her mind. Everything seemed foggy and all Olive could feel was an intense pain in her hand. ‘Pain… I can feel pain.’ Olive realized as she quickly opened her eyes and looked around. 

As she looked around Olive first noticed the numerous guards surrounding her. They seemed nervous but Olive was relieved to see they weren’t Templars. ‘This isn’t the circle.’ She thought as she looked around at the dark room surrounded by long empty cells. More pain shoots through her left hand and Olive then notices the strange green glow, which she assumed was the source of the pain.

She then heard the door loudly open and two strange women stepped in. The ginger woman in the hood stayed back a moment as the woman in armor began to circle Olive. “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. Everyone who attended is dead… except for you.” The armored woman explained.

‘Conclave? What is she talking about?’ Olive thought to herself. She couldn’t remember anything about a Conclave and she wasn’t even sure how she got here to begin with. While the mage was trying to think what was going on she hadn’t noticed the woman in armor had stepped forward until she had forcefully pulled on Olive’s glowing hand.

��Explain this.” The woman demanded and Olive was silent for a moment. She couldn’t explain it. The last thing Olive could even remember was facing that dreaded door and having some dying hope that one of them would have mercy on her. The was at the circle but this wasn’t the circle and while she didn’t remember much about that room she knew this wasn’t it. Not only that but she could feel pain and fear again. Olive was still astonished at the fact she could feel again. 

Maker only knows how long she had been cut off from the world. By the length of her hair she guessed it had probably been a while. Her once shoulder length black hair was now much longer and even covered one of her violet eyes.

After thinking it over Olive finally answered. “I can’t… “ Was all she could think to say.

“What do you mean you can’t?” The armored woman practically yelled at Olive.

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there-” Olive started to explain but was cut off. “You’re lying!” The woman in the armor said as she stepped forward to grab Olive but was pulled away by the hooded woman who hadn’t spoken a word.

“We need her Cassandra.” The hooded woman pointed out before turning to Olive.

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” The hooded woman asked.

“I don’t remember anything about a Conclave. I just remember… I should be in the circle!” Olive tried to explain, seeming panicked at the end. She had just been there but Olive still couldn’t think of anything other than that old metal door and the two Templars she had begged for her life.

At the mention of the circle both the women, seeming confused, turned to each other. “She doesn’t… ?” The hooded woman started but was intercepted by the person Olive assumed was Cassandra.

“Go to the forward camp Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Cassandra stated.

Olive watched as Leliana nodded before leaving the dark prison. Cassandra then turned back to Olive and again walked back over to her. As Cassandra lowered herself to Olive’s level the mage moved back slightly, expecting another interrogation. To Olive’s surprise Cassandra simply uncuffs Olive instead. 

“What’s going on?” Olive asks once the cuffs are finally off.

As Cassandra pulled Olive off the ground she answered. “It… will be easier to show you.”

[Masterpost]

[shinypandamiracle]

Things need to get worse before they get better, right?

[acmelxvr]

Take A Seat, Inquisitor

Pairing: Female Lavellan x Solas

Summary: Solas finds the Inquisitor in desperate need of some relaxation in the Winter Palace. And, well, he can provide.

Genre/Tags: Explicit, Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, Spoilers for Dragon Age: Inquisition, Drunk Sex, No Penetration Though, Thigh Riding, Praise, Dirty Talk, Ear Licking, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Biting, Premature Ejaculation, Mentions of Oral Sex

Word Count: 3,900

Notes: This is my first Solas fic so be gentle pls...I also posted it on AO3, you can read it there by clicking this link if you want :3

“And that’s how I ended up hunting wyverns in the Frostbacks with only two pairs of breeches!” All the nobles and Inquisition personnel in the small circle laugh at the lord’s story, some more forced than others. The ball at the Winter Palace wanes into the early hours of the morning now with no end in sight. Although drinks and food are still being served, the massive crowd has thinned into small packs of chattering lords and ladies who would dare not make the faux pas of leaving too early.

“I think I’m going to explore the library.” Lavellan murmurs to Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen. The excuse is enough to dissuade the rest of the crowd from protesting the Inquisitor’s departure from the group, but her three advisors are unconvinced.

“Take me with you.” Cullen pleads through gritted teeth, smiling a bit too wide as he barely follows along to the conversation taking place. Josephine tuts at the Commander but simply nods at Lavellan. 

“Good idea. You might find some of the more intellectual attendees who would be interested in learning more about the Inquisition.” Josephine’s eyes twinkle at the possibilities, and the Inquisitor nods politely.

“Yes, I will most definitely be doing that.” She says flatly, causing Cullen to snort and this time earn a light kick from Leliana that could easily be passed as a stretch of the knee. As Lavellan begins to take her leave, the Spymaster grabs her arm and turns to speak over her shoulder to avoid any eavesdroppers.

“You did well tonight.” She starts. “You are a complete natural at The Game, despite the many forces working against you.” Lavellan smirks at the praise, knowing Leliana probably thought she would trip over her own two feet. “You’ve earned a respite, even just for a few hours before our work starts up again.” The last part she fully whispers, leaning in conspicuously. “For once, I will advise you to not listen to Josephine.” She smiles knowingly before dropping the Inquisitor’s arm. 

Lavellan chuckles. “You read my mind.” She takes small steps through the ballroom towards the vestibule, occasionally saying hello to people she passes. Her mind spins with the possibilities of her alliance with Empress Celene; what it means for the Inquisition, for the Dalish, for herself. The Inquisitor is still deep in thought when she looks up and realizes that her body seemed to auto-pilot her straight into the Grand Library. The guards that used to be stationed near the entrance have disappeared, gone hours ago once the threat against the Empress’s life was neutralized. She worries over this for a moment, before dropping her shoulders and taking a deep breath as she remembers Leliana’s words.

Her fingers trace over the many titles packed into the various shelves, some in languages Lavellan doesn’t even recognize. She smiles softly as she picks up a book by a professor in the Free Marches collecting Dalish songs and tales. She leans against a desk, facing away from the Grand Library entrance, while she flips through the pages and remembers a much simpler time. 

“I figured you’d be hiding in here.” The voice makes her jump, yelp, and drop the book at the same time. She quickly turns with her hand over her hidden dagger strapped to her thigh, only to sigh when Solas snorts with laughter. “The Inquisitor should not be so easily caught off guard.” He exclaims, the two flutes of champagne in each hand shaking as he chuckles to himself.

“Yes, well, forgive me if it pleases you.” She snips, then grimaces when Solas raises his eyebrows slightly at her short tone. “I’m sorry. I had finally escaped from all those people out there…I guess I got a bit caught up in what I was reading.” Her explanation is jumbled, but Solas places the two drinks on the desk before waving her off.

“Do not apologize. I’m certain you’ve had a much busier night than I. I can leave, if you wish.” He points towards one glass as an offering. Lavellan nods gratefully before grabbing the thin spine of the delicate piece and holding it close to her chest.

“Please, stay.” She says. “You’re good company.” Solas smiles and shakes his head as another laugh escapes him. He heads towards the shelf Lavellan previously occupied, now examining the tomes himself.  With his back towards Lavellan, she can’t help but take in Solas’ form. He towers over her a bit and his broad shoulders also help distinguish Solas from the Dalish elves she’s used to. Even in the alienages, Solas stands out as…bigger.

Lavellan coughs, a flush climbing her cheeks as her mind wanders to more depraved thoughts about Solas’ body. Solas was certainly free with his verbal affections, but they had only just started engaging in physical affections recently. Even then, they had only kissed. Lavellan didn’t mind waiting, of course, but it felt as though every time it developed into something more that Solas pulled away. 

Solas clears his throat, bringing the Inquisitor out of her thoughts as though he has eyes on the back of his head and can see how she’s examining him. Or maybe being a mage with a speciality in the Fade lets him read minds. Lavellan’s eyes widen as the drink begins to take hold. Can Solas read minds? She thinks, half seriously. “Inquisitor?” Solas asks.

“Yes!” He turns to fully face her as he holds a book in his hand. “Yes, sorry. Long night.” She mutters, taking another sip. She can feel Solas’s gaze on her as she redirects her vision to a different corner of the room. The shadows dance along the wall as the various candles around the room burn low. There’s a moment of silence, as though Solas is deciding to address the tension in the room. 

“I asked whether you enjoyed your time in the Winter Palace tonight.” Solas leans against the bookshelf, a sly smile gracing his face. “The way you managed to navigate the nobility, the ballroom floor, and an assassination attempt was particularly stunning.” He swirls his beverage in one hand as he flips through his chosen book. Solas’ choice of words cause Lavellan to finally bring her attention back to him. She scrutinizes him for a moment, furrowing her brow as her eyes rake over his stature from head to toe. Finally, she smiles too.

“Solas, are you drunk?” She asks. She giggles as Solas opens his mouth to give a quick retort, but closes it when he realizes he doesn’t have one. He shakes his head in slight embarrassment and drops his eyes as the Inquisitor continues to quietly laugh. “I guess I need to catch up.” Lavellan murmurs as Solas regains his footing in the conversation.

“I will admit to partaking in more drinking than I usually allow myself. All the power, intrigue, danger, sex…” He notices how Lavellan crosses her legs when he pauses. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to go unnoticed for an evening. To engage in behavior that is unbecoming of me.” Lavellan shakes her head, alleviating his fears that she thinks less of him now. “You haven’t answered my original question.” He states, placing his book back on the shelf.

“Enjoyed is not the word I would use.” She pauses, thinking deeply on her answer. “I’m glad I was able to play The Game well enough. It was almost satisfying being able to talk circles around humans.” Solas nods ruefully, staying silent. “But I was on edge the entire time. Constantly waiting for something to go wrong. And when the Grand Duchess was dragged away…” She trails off. 

“Power can be suffocating, sometimes.” Solas finishes Lavellan’s thought. They’ve both finished their drinks at this point, the flush on Lavellan’s face indicating that she’s just as tipsy as Solas is. “There are times when a decision needs to be made. Even the correct choice is never an easy one.” Solas’s expression turns serious, and Lavellan cocks her head.

“So you think I made the right choice? Going with Empress Celene?” She asks. The candles in the Library have dimmed even further as the moon creeps higher above Halamshiral. Solas tilts his head back against the fine wooden shelf, crossing his arms and looking down at the Inquisitor.

“Is my praise necessary for you to feel at ease?” His question makes Lavellan laugh, a true laugh that comes from her stomach. It’s infectious to Solas, a smile creeping onto his face replacing the scowl he had moments before. “Briala and Celene could never have ruled together, and Gaspard is a disaster when it comes to court. In the Fade I’ve seen whole nations crumble because someone would rather force a compromise than make a real decision.” He moves towards Lavellan, all social grace completely lost, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You made a real decision, ma vhenan. They are never easy.” 

Lavellan looks up at Solas, who is only now an arm’s length away. “Ma vhenan?” She restates, teasing Solas now. “That is an odd way to pronounce ‘Inquisitor’, Solas.” Her hand creeps up to rest on top of Solas, the space between the two elves shrinking as he moves to grip her waist.

He rests his forehead against Lavellan’s, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb adoringly. “You looked breathtaking tonight. You were magnificent, awe-inspiring. You’ll forgive me if I drop your title. I couldn’t bear to hide how I feel for you any longer.” He pulls back momentarily to kiss the top of her head, one hand moving to the small of her back. She leans into his touch, and for some minutes the pair is silent, their embrace only betrayed by the soft skitters of someone passing through the hallway.

The trance is broken as Lavellan gives a soft push to Solas. “I should head back now. There are people probably looking for me.” She groans and rolls her shoulders, her muscles tensing back as she recalls what it feels like to have a dozen pairs of eyes on you at all times. She turns to leave, but Solas captures her arm.

“You’ve played your part for the night, vhenan.” Solas pulls Lavellan flush against him, her backside against his groin. Solas forgets his inhibitions as he pulls her collar back to plant a kiss on her neck, making Lavellan gasp. Another kiss and a roll of Solas’s hips makes her groan louder, planting her hands on the desk. “Relax with me. Forget your duty, even for a moment.” Solas’ words cause a small pit of guilt to form in his heart, but it retreats when Lavellan moans again. 

“Josephine would personally see to our executions if we were caught having sex in the Winter Palace.” Lavellan’s skin is practically lit on fire with every single one of Solas’s touches, his fingertips dancing down her waist. “And I think the Orlesian nobility would die from heart attacks if they found two naked elves here.” She turns to face Solas, who stops momentarily to grin wildly, showing his sharp canines.

“I haven’t said anything about being naked.” Their faces are inches apart, both of them breathing heavily as arousal sits heavy in their stomachs. “There are many things one can do to relax without being naked, if their imagination allows it.” Solas whispers in Lavellan’s ear. He pulls away and guides Lavellan to a plush couch in a dark corner, far from any immediate entrance into the library. Solas lets go of her hand and sits on the couch, spreading his legs wide. He leans back on the couch, throwing one arm over the velveteen, and pats his thigh, beckoning Lavellan to sit.

To sit on him.

Lavellan swallows as she takes the sight in. She’s imagined, dreamed of sex with Solas dozens of times, but this was something entirely new. Something she hadn’t even begun to consider, but was still enticing nonetheless. “Is this something you want?” She asks him.

“Yes.” Solas answers so quickly that Lavellan is taken aback. “Nothing would bring me more pleasure right now than to give you pleasure.” He holds out a hand for Lavellan to grab, and tugs her on top of him. “It is selfish of me to admit, but I do not kiss you the way I do solely for your benefit.” He rolls his thigh up causing Lavellan to cover her mouth as she moans. “I do it because I also enjoy it. No, enjoy is too simple of a word.” He turns his head to think while Lavellan grips his shoulders with both hands. “I relish it. Feeling you against me, with only some layers of clothing to separate us…Fenedhis, ma vhenan. You’ve undone me. I haven’t been this overcome with desire in a long time…You make it difficult to control myself.” He plants his hands on her hips. “Let me guide you. Let me show you what I mean. We can reckon with our indulgences in the morning.” 

Solas’ words have Lavellan dripping. she nods, and plants herself fully onto Solas’ thigh, moving her hands to Solas’ neck and jaw. He starts pushing her back and forth against his leg, adjusting the pressure by examining the way her face contorts just so. She moves to cover her eyes but Solas stops her. “You are so beautiful right now, vhenan. Do not think about how you might look, but focus on how you feel.” She obliges Solas and slowly drops her fingers back to his jaw. Solas notices how his words make her quicken the pace, if for a moment. “Ah, so you do need my praise to feel at ease. Very well.” 

Solas keeps one hand on Lavellan’s hips, and moves one to the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down so he can whisper to her. She gasps as he presses up into her, causing her to roll her hips on her own. Although she can’t see it, she knows Solas is smiling with pride right now. “Just like that, perfect. You are a natural at this, vhenan.” His lips move against her ear as she forms a rhythm, her moans forming a perfect harmony with Solas as he groans from the pressure building in his own sex. The slight push and pull causes him to rub against the smooth fabric, making him knit his brow in concentration to ensure he somehow doesn’t cum before she does. He can’t remember the last time he did something like this with someone else; and while he’s relieved himself plenty of times since meeting the Inquisitor, he didn’t allow himself to think their relationship would get this far.

Lavellan whines loudly when Solas grinds up against her clit, the wet patch on his thigh exciting him more than before. He pulls Lavellan so that way they’re face to face, and kisses her like it’s the first time. She heaves against him, pressing her chest against his to get a better angle. Solas groans, louder this time as Lavellan’s knee presses up against his erection. Like everything else about Solas, it’s somehow bigger than she expected. “If you keep stopping, Inquisitor, you will inflate my ego. And getting you into this position has made me prideful enough already.”

 He kisses her again, sloppily this time, the alcohol ignoring any expectations of how their first time together would go. Solas presses his tongue against Lavellan’s, his eyes rolling back at the vibration of her moans. He finds her chest with one of his palms, kneading her and finding a nipple with ease. She yelps when he pinches and rolls, her thighs beginning to shake. Lavellan’s pace has quickened to a point where her thighs burn, the strain of muscle mixing with her pleasure. She begins to chant his name, panting and whining when Solas lets go of her nipples and moves his hands to her backside, massaging Lavellan and gripping her with a strength she didn’t know he had. “Do you know how many times I’ve finished thinking of this exact situation? How I’ve dreamed of having you completely?” Lavellan shakes her head. “Thirty four times I’ve spilled myself over my own hand thinking of how beautiful you’d look like this. For the first time in my life, my dreams cannot compare to the real thing.”

Lavellan gains confidence through Solas’s words and leans forward, almost coming in for a kiss but at the last second, she moves past Solas’s lips. Instead, she focuses on his ears; she licks a long strip from his jawline to the tip of his ears, noticing how Solas shivers and making him wonder how the hell she figured that out. She laughs while still moaning and gasping for more. “I knew you were sensitive here. Had to be, because I noticed how you pulled away the first time we kissed when I went to grab you,” She moves her thumb just underneath the other ear, making Solas jump in shock and pleasure. “Here.” She finishes, returning her mouth to latch onto Solas’s helix. She licks a circle around the apex of his damned ears, running her tongue up and down the ridge before returning to his lips. “Imagine what else my mouth can do.” Her breath mixes with his as both of them pant, although Solas does close his eyes momentarily to see the picture she’s painted. 

Solas bites his lip, almost drawing blood by how close he’s come to cumming over himself. Both of them are sweating now, Lavellan’s pristine hair stuck to her forehead. “Fenedhis–” She presses her knee against Solas’ cock again as she moves her clit down onto him, “–Fuck–”, he groans loudly as her pace quickens and she begins to babble quietly in his ear. If someone had walked in on them, Solas was too preoccupied to notice.

“I’m going to–I think I’m gonna–” Solas nods approvingly while Lavellan’s release reaches its peak. Solas closes his eyes, tears forming in the corners as he pleads with himself to hold off for just a bit longer. In a final move of complete desperation and arousal, Solas latches onto Lavellan’s neck.

And bites.

Lavellan yelps and it’s what finally sends her over the edge. She cums on Solas’s thigh, stuttering and gripping onto him while he licks at the marks his teeth had left. Both of them are moaning, although Lavellan has the sense to cover her mouth. When she finally comes down from her orgasm, Solas leans back to examine his work. Lavellan looks down and breathlessly laughs. “I made a bit of a mess.” Is all she says, and Solas lifts her momentarily to examine her handiwork.

Solas’s thigh is so soaked that Lavellan’s juices had even begun to pool next to Solas in those final moments. He smiles softly and pats Lavellan approvingly. “It is an easy enough task to warm my hands and dry my clothes, as I have done before. Do not worry.” Lavellan moves to get up off of Solas and onto her knees in front of him, but he stops her. “As much as the thought entices me, and believe me when I say it does, I’ve stolen enough of your time tonight.” She crinkles her brow in confusion, and gestures towards Solas’s groin where his erection is clearly visible, and pre-cum has even started leaking through his trousers. 

“Ah.” He says, and while he does entertain the thought longer than he should have, he still shakes his head. “This was for you, not for me. And besides,” He stands up and kisses Lavellan. “I can’t imagine there won’t be more opportunities for me to catch up.” Lavellan snorts, giving another kiss to Solas before smoothing down her attire and hair. 

“How do I look?” She asked sarcastically.

“Magnificent.” Solas responds, moving closer to brush her hair with his fingertips. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. She seems to be remembering something and laughs; Solas tilts his head in a silent question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse like that. I didn’t think ‘fuck’ was even in your vocabulary.” Solas’s cheeks flush red and he coughs in surprise.

“Yes, well…” He stammers underneath Lavellan’s stare. “You bring out a part in me I thought I put away long ago.” Solas smiles lightly. “And that part is inclined to curse, occasionally, when underneath a fascinating woman such as yourself.” This time, Solas is the one to let go. He nods towards the Library entrance, and Lavellan sighs before squeezing his hand and stepping quietly into the hallway. He waits until he can no longer hear her footsteps before sitting down and throwing his head back against the couch. The late hour and sudden physical activity has him utterly spent.

The elf looks down, his cock practically bursting against his leg and begging to be taken care of. “I’m not that depraved.” He murmurs. Solas’s eyes close, and while he tries to think of more important matters, he can’t remove the image of Lavellan on top of him from his mind. The way she bounced on his lap, how her mouth felt against him, makes Solas bite his knuckles to hold back a moan. How she jittered when he marked her, claiming the Inquisitor all for himself as her neck bloomed with purple splotches from his sharp teeth and how quickly her release came from an action that felt as natural to Solas as blinking. Solas breathes in, then out through his nose, attempting to bring himself back to reality, but he can’t help but recall the offer she left on the table before Lavellan took her leave. Her lips would look so pretty wrapped around him, gagging and moaning as she would try to take him all the way, his tip hitting the back of her throat—

Solas jolts suddenly as his orgasm hits him like a slap against the face, the dark stain of cum now spreading down his thigh. Solas bites down hard on his palm, unable to fully hold his voice back as the smallest movement against his trousers prolongs his release even further. When the immense pleasure finally subsides, Solas opens one eye hesitantly to assess the damage. He groans into his hands, a conjured flame able to dry his clothes but not the Orlesian, and definitely expensive, couch.

It’s hours later when the morning sun rises over Halamshiral that the Inquisition takes their leave. Solas blearily rubs his eyes and yawns, although when he catches Lavellan’s smile he can’t help but reciprocate despite his weariness. The Iron Bull looks between the pair before laughing and slapping Solas on the shoulder. “Sleep well?” He asks simply, although Solas knows the Bull well enough to know that his questions are never simple.

“No, I had a long night.” Solas quips, eager to head back to Skyhold and be as far away from the Winter Palace as possible. The unspoken part being that he is more eager to finish what he started mere hours before.

“Yeah? Spend some time cleaning in the library?” The Iron Bull asks, looking at the way Solas and the Inquisitor blanche before guffawing loudly. As he walks away he shakes his head. “You guys are not fucking subtle.” 

[bg3daydream]

Rumors and Facts 2/3 (Solavellan Fanfiction)

Solas x Female Inquisitor Lavellan Fanfiction.

Summary: +18 (Rated explicit) Lavellan is tired of the rumors that she hears around Skyhold regarding her relationship with Solas, and with all the gossip surrounding her at the Winter Palace. It's nobody's business, and besides, she's done hiding.

There's 3 chapters, with chapters 1 and 3 containing smut, and there's fluff through the whole fic. Chapter 1 is set in Skyhold and chapters 2 and 3 are set in the Winter Palace.

Find chapter 1 and chapter 3

Lavellan hadn’t been at the Winter Palace for more than ten minutes, she hadn’t even gone past the gardens and into the palace itself, and she was already fed up with people. They stared at her with no shame, neither had they any shame to talk about her as if she weren’t there, not caring that she heard their venomous comments.

Some were doubting she was actually the Inquisitor, considering she was dalish, while others had no problem calling her a savage elf. She wanted to snap at them, make them eat their words, and it was probably obvious on her face. Josephine was hovering near her, looking half-apologetic for what they were saying, half-alarmed that the Inquisitor may talk back.

Solas moved closer to Lavellan, though he didn’t touch her. He’d kept his hands to himself since approaching the palace, and Lavellan knew that both he and Josephine didn’t want the Inquisitor’s reputation maybe taking a hit by rumors of her and the elven apostate. Lavellan understood and yet, it was difficult to agree.

“Don’t concern yourself with them,” Solas told her quietly. “Not worthy.”

Lavellan took a deep breath and nodded. She could do this. She’d done worse and faced enemies more dangerous. She’d walked out of the Fade alive, twice. She’d survived all that, she could not only survive this but come on top too. She’d trained with Josephine, and so no matter she felt revolted by it, she’d play this so-called Game as she’d taught her and come out victorious.

“I’ll go first, say I’m the bodyguard,” the Iron Bull said, stepping in front of her and Josephine, and behind Cullen, who seemed rather uncomfortable too. “So everyone can look first at the big, mean qunary and be too busy to talk bullshit about you too.”

As so many times before, Lavellan felt a rush of affection and gratitude for her qunary friend. He wouldn’t have to suffer all this, the ball, the looks, and the talks, Lavellan wouldn’t have asked, but he’d offered when he’d seen her worry.

Dorian had offered too, and he had joined Josephine in her preparation of Lavellan for this. He said he too had experience with balls and mean gossiper aristocrats, and with people saying horrible things about you to your face, and that he knew how to navigate that world. Lavellan knew it to be true, but like with Iron Bull, she hadn’t wished Dorian to have to go through this, she knew people would give him a hard time for being tevinter and a mage. He’d insisted.

Everything was a mess and she hated where she was, but Lavellan had to admit, she’d good advisors and companions, and better friends. She was grateful for it.

Dorian was right behind her, seeming unpreoccupied and relaxed, though Lavellan wasn’t sure how much of it was facade. Two women were staring at him with wrinkled noses while clearly talking to each other about him. Dorian first gave them a polite nod, then a wink, which seemed to ruffle them more.

“Aaah…just like being back home,” Dorian said with mocked cheerfulness. “Just stand proud, Inquisitor, but be charming and polite…they’ll have it harder to attack you then, and it’d make them madder.”

“Let’s get inside,” Josephine said quietly, her polite smile not faltering as she endured comments about the Inquisition, greeting people and navigating Lavellan and the others through them. “Leliana’s already there, and we better keep an eye on Gaspar.”

*

Once inside, things hadn’t gone better. So much gossip and mean-spirited conversation, along with so many people wanting to talk to the Inquisitor about this and that. There were also those who refused to acknowledge her, like she were blighted. Lavellan didn’t know what was worse, and there was still no word on the potential infiltrators threatening the empress' life.

At least, she’d gotten to see Leliana playing the Game, she seemed so different from Skyhold, and she encouraged Lavellan to gather more gossip. She said it was leverage against nobles and it’d help them in Court, but Lavellan thought she enjoyed the gossip too, even if just a bit.

She’d also had the chance to meet Josephine’s sister, nice yet so different from her, and to hear her talk about Josephine’s childhood was as delightful for Lavellan as mortifying for Josephine.

“Everything alright, Inquisitor?” 

Josephine asked as she wandered towards her yet again, after she was cornered by some nobles who seemed to believe she ought to do something about the ideas their elven servants may get now that the Inquisitor was an elf.

She’d walked away, which was not polite, but it was better than whatever she may have said to them, she didn’t think she’d have been able to keep it nice. If she’d opened her mouth, Josephine’d have probably had a heart attack.

At least they were not openly ogling her and lusting after her like the group that had cornered poor Cullen. He seemed so uncomfortable and out of place…maybe she should make up some emergency and rescue him. 

“It’s bad that I wish assassins would show up already and all this can end?” She said, and Josephine’s sister let out a giggle. Lavellan knew she didn’t understand why she didn’t enjoy the ball, though, she was elated to be there.

“Everything’s calm for now,” Josephine said, looking around as she smiled and waved politely.

“Yes, our people haven’t reported anything yet.” Maybe she could go ask Cullen again, but she had no desire to try to navigate the people gathered around him. “Do you think I could go back to the hall and gardens, talk to the others, try to find something? I’m of no use here.” She was getting antsy with the waiting and so many eyes and sharp tongues on her.

“Sure, but be back when you hear the bell, don't be late, please Inquisitor.” It sounded more like a command than a polite request. Lavellan liked it when Josephine got bossy, she jokingly called it “polite threatening.”

“Promised.”

*

Outside the main ballroom, there was gossip and staring too, although less eyes were on her as people seemed engrossed talking to each other.

Lavellan saw Solas near a window, leaning against a column, glass in hand. He seemed more at ease and content than she’d expected. She made her way to him, trying to blend in and not attract attention.

“Hey.”

“Inquisitor.” Solas gave her a polite nod.

“How are you? Are you being treated well?” Lavellan could ignore the comments about her, even if they made her mad, but if they talked badly about someone she loved, she wasn’t sure she could keep it civil much longer.

Solas shrugged and smiled. “The Orlesians don’t quite know what to make of me. I try not to give them room to critique the Inquisition on my account.” He lifted his drink to his lips. “The food and drink are excellent, however, and the servants are happy to refill my glass.”

“Why’d you have them introduce you as the Inquisitors’ elven servant?” Lavellan asked, it’d annoyed her.

“Am I not but your servant, Lady Inquisitor Lavellan?” Solas joked and Lavellan huffed, rolling her eyes.

She couldn’t help a small smile, though, she loved it when Solas’ eyes wrinkled when he was amused sometimes, like now, but there was also something else in his eyes, that reminded her of how he looked at her when she was at his desk…Lavellan better not recall that if she wanted to keep her composure.

“Well…someone did call you ‘the Inquisitor’s pet mage’ so…” She tried to joke back, but it made her grimace, she’d wanted to use an anchor blast on that gossiper couple, if that was even possible. “Seriously, though, you could have just told them you were an Inquisition mage.” There was already gossip about the Inquisition employing apostates anyway.

“Have you seen how these people treat their elven servants?” Solas said and Lavellan nodded, it sickened her. “They act like they’re not people. Then they’re careless, talking about everything around their servants as if they can’t hear them. I’d hoped they’d do the same around me, that they’d say things they wouldn’t in front of you and your advisors, so maybe I could learn something useful for you. Leliana agreed,” Solas explained. “Sadly, I don’t have the look of one of their servants, so it’s not working.”

“That's smart.” Lavellan had to admit it, but she still hated hearing people call Solas her servant.

“If you want to find something useful, pay attention to the servants,” Solas said, raising his glass, and one of the servants came to refill it, although she avoided the Inquisitor’s eyes. Solas took a sip of his wine and relaxed against the column again, looking around the room, seeming so calm and collected, Lavellan was envious with how on edge she’d been feeling.

“You seem more comfortable with a grand Orlesian ball than I’d have expected.”

“I’ve seen countless such displays in my journeys in the Fade. The powerful have always been the same, only the costumes change.”

“Oh, that’s right, your Fade balls and dancing with spirits,” Lavellan half-teased. “So… you’re dancing with me tonight, right?”

Solas sighed. “I wish. But you need to win these people over and dancing with an elven apostate will win you few favors here. Perhaps later, when this is over?”

“Later…” Lavellan arched an eyebrow and leaned closer to Solas, lowering her voice so nobody else could hear her. “So, when this is over, you’ll come to my room and we can dance, then?”

Solas leaned towards her too. “Perhaps,” he said quietly, looking at her in a way that made her heart almost skip a beat, and warmth spread through Lavellan.

They hadn’t done anything like that night at Solas’ rotunda again. With everyone busy preparing everything for the ball, eyes and ears everywhere, and so much of her time devoted to it, for the last few days, they’d been lucky if they got a moment for themselves.

Then, during the journey to the palace, Solas had kept his distance. Lavellan understood why but she didn’t think it mattered, pretty much everyone accompanying them seemed to know about them, and the nobles at court were going to gossip anyway.

At least, they had the Fade. Lavellan wasn’t sure how it worked, but whenever they both were asleep, more often than not, either one of them seemed able to wander into the other’s dream, and so they could spend time together, away from everyone else.

Lavellan was pretty content letting Solas walk her around the Fade, to snuggle to him while he told her things about it, but she couldn’t wait for the chance to be alone with him out of dreams again too.

It might not be proper, sneaking Solas into the Inquisitor’s bed, but she didn’t care. She felt silly butterflies fluttering in her belly at the thought of it…whether things turned more intimate or not, at least she’d try her best to sleep next to Solas that night.

Solas looked to the side and pulled back and away from Lavellan, straightening. She looked in that direction too and noticed a couple of nobles eyeing them with interest. She was about to tell Solas that she didn’t care that they might stare and talk about them, but probably Solas what right, whether she liked it or not, that evening she needed that people’s support.

“I hope you enjoy the ball, Inquisitor,” Solas said, dismissing her, and Lavellan tried not to sigh. “Don’t let me take more of your time.”

“I’ll see if I can find anything useful,” Lavellan said, back to business…they had a job to do there, after all, preventing a murder seemed more important than mingling with nobles showing off like peacocks. “Be ready, I’ll let you all know if I find something.”

Solas nodded and Lavellan turned to leave. “Hunt well,” Solas said as she walked away, and Lavellan couldn’t help her smirk at him.

She looked around to room. Some nobles were talking to each other, seeming quite busy to pay attention to her. She should try to eavesdrop on what seemed like an important conversation. Others were trying to pretend that they were not looking and talking about her, while others openly stared.

She spotted the Iron Bull by the end of the room, eating some of those bittersweet nuts, and she approached him.

“How are you doing, Bull?”

He grunted, popping another nut into his mouth. “These nobles keep trying to mess with me thinking I don’t know what they’re doing. If we don’t find something to kill soon, I may use one of their skulls as my new fancy mask.”

Lavellan knew she shouldn’t, but she snorted a giggle. “I feel you.”

“Yeah, I see how they look at you, and the bullshit they say to your face,” Iron Bull scoffed, shaking his head. “Any news?”

“Nothing regarding the assassins. You’re the Ben-Hassrath, tell me what you’ve seen.”

She was half-joking, but she trusted the Iron Bull instinct and experience for this. She didn’t think any assassins could wander around without him noticing it, just like she trusted Solas and Dorian would notice it if there was something magical going on.

“I’ll tell you what I’ve seen.” the Iron Bull's serious look turned amused. “I’ve seen you and Solas, just right now. You two start making out? Not even me and my horns can distract people from it.”

“Iron Bull!” 

Lavellan scolded him with a hissed whisper, even though she knew it was her fault that she had leaned a bit too close to Solas, her mind full of daydreams...probably the Iron Bull didn’t have any trouble reading all her thoughts about Solas just by looking at her. 

“Please don’t start, I have enough with Sera and Dorian.”

“I don’t judge, boss,” the Iron Bull kept his friendly teasing. “You deserve a good tumble later on for dealing with this vipers' nest.”

“Shh!” Lavellan hushed him, embarrassed and worried that someone might hear him, but she couldn’t help the silly giggle that escaped her lips. Would Solas think too that she deserved a good tumble? “Stop it!”

“Alright, alright…but I have nothing of use for you.” Iron Bull shrugged. “All I can tell you is who hates who, who fancies who, who’s sleeping with whom…”

“Tell all that to Leliana, she seems to think all this gossip will be useful for us…I think she enjoys it too.”

“Got it, boss.”

*

By the end of the evening, Lavellan had dealt with several attempted assassinations and several actual murders, she’d been asked once again to decide on things that’d affect people way beyond her reach, and politics had once more changed.

Yet, to her amazement, the ball kept going, now celebrating what was supposedly a victory for Orlais. Lavellan couldn’t understand these people. But sure, most of the victims had been servant elves, so what would the Orlesian nobles care for it, beyond being understaffed. This place still sickened Lavellan, even if she’d tried to play The Game to win, and she succeeded.

She was now at the balcony, alone, feeling tired and done, hoping she’d mingled with the nobles enough, she didn’t think she could keep her polite mask much longer. She’d just finished dealing with Morrigan, whom Lavellan still didn’t know what to think about, when Solas walked into the balcony.

“I’m not surprised to find you here,” Solas said, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Are you alright, vhenan?”

Lavellan nodded. “I’m just tired. I think I’ve done enough chatting and pretending around to win these people’s favor and support for the Inquisition.” She didn’t want to let her advisors down, but she didn’t think she could keep going with it for much longer that night.

“You did.” Solas nodded with a smile. “I heard some people saying how delightful the Inquisitor is.”

“You’re kidding.” Lavellan frowned but Solas shook his head no. “Oh, then, they meant delightful for a savage elf.”

Solas chuckled, shaking his head again and pulling her close with the hand on her back to give her lips a soft kiss, and Lavellan felt like she was able to relax for the first time that evening. When he pulled back, he vowed at her.

“Dance with me, vhenan.”

No matter how tired she was, Lavellan couldn’t help her smile and the butterflies in her belly. “I’d love to.”

Solas smiled too, pulling her close, and for a while, they danced together to the muffled sound of the band, coming from the ballroom. Lavellan’d have happily danced with him for the remaining of the ball, perhaps with stops here and there to kiss him again, but Dorian’s voice interrupted them.

“Nice form, I wasn’t expecting you to know how to dance, Solas,” he teased and Solas brisked, pulling away from Lavellan. “It doesn’t suit the whole hobo apostate thing you have going on.”

Solas glared at Dorian and Lavellan knew he was about to snap, so she talked first. “Shut it you both, no mage bickering at the Winter Palace.” She tried to sound as commanding as Josephine.

“It was a compliment.” Dorian shrugged with a teasing smile.

“I’m not putting up with two tipsy mages arguing,” Lavellan teased back, but who knew, if they started with their who’s got the biggest staff contest, they may send the whole place into the Fade somehow.

“I’m not tipsy!” Solas huffed, sounded almost offended, and Lavellan tried not to laugh but she couldn’t help her snort.

“Yes, you are.” She smiled, reaching to cup Solas' cheek. “But I think you look adorable like this.” Solas looked like he might snap but all he did was lean into her touch as she caressed his cheek, proving her point.

“Please, have some decency, I’m still right here,” Dorian said in mocked offense. Lavellan knew he didn’t judge or mind their relationship, and she knew she could count on his support.

“Did someone send you to come fetch me?” Lavellan sighed, her smile and joking tone has gone at the idea of having to go back inside.

“Afraid so.” Dorian gave her a sympathetic look. “Some have noticed your absence and are inquiring Josephine about it. Still, she didn’t want to force you back if you don’t feel like it.”

“No, I… I’ll be back in a moment.” Lavellan sighed. She was the Inquisitor, her advisors and companions shouldn’t have to deal with inquiring people and worried or plainly nosy nobles. The night was almost over, she could keep going for a bit longer.

“Besides, it seemed you owed some dances?” Dorian asked, smirking and chuckling at Lavellan’s grimace. “I’ll get going, I might need to save Cullen, I heard someone trying to convince him how marriage with his youngest daughter was the best plan of action.”

Lavellan couldn’t help her sympathetic smile. Poor Cullen was having a horrible night, he’d hated every second of it, without even the chance to escape the nobles to fight the assassins.

“Please, go save my commander.”

Dorian vowed to them, half joking but equally charming anyway, and he turned back into the palace.

“We should get back too,” Lavellan said regretfully, taking Solas’ hand as if for moral support and giving it a gentle tug. “I’ll talk and dance with whoever I have to but save my last dance for you, come on.”

Solas let go of her hand. “We shouldn’t. You just earned these people's favor, if you’re seen with the elven apostate now and they talk-”

“They’re already talking,” Lavellan interrupted. She was tired of everyone acting like they had a say on her love life or if she was allowed one. “I’m pretty sure. That orlesian couple who’s always at Skyhold’s hall is here, and they’ve been talking about us for a while, I’m sure they’ve been happy to gossip about us to anyone willing to listen.”

She’d always found that couple nosy and annoying, but the Inquisitor couldn’t really ask the orlesians nobles to leave without causing some ruffle.

“They’ve been talking about us?” Solas seemed half-surprised, half-horrified, and Lavellan tried not to smile.

He usually knew everything that was going on, he always had an answer for everything, yet he seemed so clueless about it, Lavellan had to wonder where his head had been.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “At first it seemed we weren’t interesting enough, being just these two savage elves…” She mocked an expression of disdain, like the nobles had been wearing when they first saw her at the palace, and she was glad when Solas’ eyes wrinkled. “They much preferred a highborn scandal.”

At first, Lavellan hadn’t really realized they were talking about her, but from then on, she’d noticed them staring at her when they thought she wasn’t looking, whispering and quietly giggling, and so she’d caught on…it wasn’t surprising after the rumors at the tavern, but annoying nonetheless.

“But then it seemed we caught their interest. Apparently, there’s been ‘exchanges’ between us’.” She was still not sure of what they were even talking about, and she shrugged when Solas arched a questioning eyebrow. “Apparently we’ve been exchanging gifts of a short, betrothals even.”

“And I had no idea we were!” Solas pretended to be shocked and Lavellan laughed, although she felt flustered that people were gossiping about betrothals, and she was glad Solas wasn’t asking about it. She wondered if it might fluster him too.

“They’re just nosy gossipers,” Lavellan said, trying not to dwell on the actual gossip. “But…with them around, I’m sure people’s talking about us.”

“I am sorry, vhenan, the Inquisitor’s reputation-”

“Stop with that and don’t be sorry,” Lavellan interrupted him. “I am not sorry for one of the very few good things in my life right now and I don’t care what people think about it, I’m not going to hide.”

It seemed Solas was going to say something, some sort of emotion seemed to go through his eyes at her words, but he didn’t, and instead, he leaned to kiss her.

“You know,” Lavellan began when their lips parted. “In my clan, you should only exchange gifts with your family and your spouse or betrothal.” Of course, as so many other social rules, more often than not they tended to ignore it and give gifts to friends. “And kissing someone you’re not bonded to? Tsk, tsk…If these rumors reach my clan, I'm in bigger trouble than with these orlesians hearing them,” she joked.

Solas smiled softly at her joking, but he seemed pensive, as if her words had given him thought, and Lavellan half regretted telling him about it. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, what would her clan make of Solas and their relationship… She’d not seen them in so long, sometimes she wondered if she’d ever be back. 

She didn’t want to think about it right now, she had enough on her plate, and so she reached for Solas' hand again and put on a smile.

“Come on…time we went back to charm these people.”

*

NA:

You can think they went have and behave all proper or you can think they went back and...held hands sometimes, so scandalous, maybe even danced. I hope she danced not only with Solas but with Dorian and Iron Bull too, quite the scandal, but she might be throw out of court.

I worked hard on this fic, it was out of my comfort zone, and I hope some of you can enjoy it, please check the other chapters if you missed them and thanks for taking the time to read this.

If you liked it, please let me know in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

I'm not usually a smut writer, it's not my thing, I'm usually a fluff, hurt/comfort person, but I don't know what Solavellan has done to me.

I hope they can have their happy ending, but I'll have to write it if they don't.

Excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

[scarfacemarston]

Pride Month Requests!

My specialties are character x reader mainly because I've never received requests for ships and I'm not experienced in it! If you don't see a character, I can still likely write it. For male characters it will be MLM Reader x character and WLW for female characters. (Trans characters hcs and readers always included. Edit: Non Binary and gender neutral also welcome!) Reblogs appreciated! SFW preferred.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Steve Rogers x Reader

Natasha Romanoff x Reader Yelena Belova x Reader Peggy Carter x Reader Arthur Morgan x Reader John Marston x Reader Anakin Skywalker x Reader Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Hawke x Fenris Hawke x Isabela Hawke x Merill Dorian Pavus x Inquisitor Cullen Rutherford x Inquisitor Cassandra x Inquisitor Leliana x Warden

More by Request!

[greypetrel]

Hiii 👁️👄👁️💜 Maybe: 🎄 spirits follow everywhere i go - or alternatively:🎄 oh, you fool, there are rules

Hello! Bet you forgot you sent me this, uh? 💜

WELL, it's here! After much consideration because I love the album that contains both these songs, I thought that the Yawning Grave just yelled Morrigan. A minor possible spoiler for the Arbor Wilds/What Pride Has Wrought but well. I'm not explaining whys and hows anyway.

Tis the prompt list

Oh you fool, there are rules.

[ Morrigan x Female Mahariel | 3.692 words | No trigger warnings - Hurt/comfort ]

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent you omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you (You can run, but you can't escape) Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins (You will open the yawning grave)

Morrigan didn’t stall long in Skyhold, after Corypheus was defeated.

She had done what she must. That was it. She never meant to stay much longer.

She was grateful for Aisling, for her concerned expression as she told her that she would have tried to help her if she only had let her. Tried to fix whatever was done to her at the Well. Morrigan knew guilt when she saw it. It resonated deeply in her heart, and she was at the same time grateful and repulsed. It only made her want to run.

Run from that castle, run from another series of mistakes, run from companionship and friendship she still doubted she deserved.

Old books and ruins were much safer companions. They never talked back.

She wanted to believe the Inquisitor, be sure that everything could be fixed, that if they put their mind to it, they could have found a solution. Freed her from the cage of a past that wasn’t her own alone anymore, once again. She really did.

She wasn’t fool enough to actually do it.

Aisling knew not the extent of the magic that had been bestowed upon her. The extent of the control it could exert, how much she felt it deep in her bones, like the loose strings of a puppet. She knew, painstakingly well, for all the voices of the Well whispered it into her ears, that as talented as Lavellan was, as undoubtedly bright and creative with magic, she wasn’t powerful enough to break that spell.

None of her people was. No one else was, anymore. Save for… but he had vanished after the battle.

She thanked Aisling, told her words of comfort she didn’t feel, and of trust that in spite of herself she couldn’t convince herself not to mean. She at least owed her a nice goodbye. Kieran hugged her tight, and the elf stalled, caressing his hair and recommending him to listen to his mother. She whispered something in his ear, which made the boy giggle. Morrigan smiled: it happened much more rarely these days.

And before the first light of days could tinge the sky in pinks and lilacs, she took her son’s hand and left the fortress.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Leliana had waited for her, just outside the first outpost, before the descent to the valley.

She knew she didn’t have to go. She knew it well that right now, Skyhold was probably one of the safest places in Thedas. A place run by a person who knew her, knew partially the extent of what she did, could help her should something awry happen, should the Well decide to take full control of her. A person that loved Kieran and, she knew, would have gone out of her way to keep him safe and bring his mother back.

But she missed her.

She missed her and that choice of old, the separation, seemed now the biggest in a long list of mistakes she made. She had gained the knowledge she craved, and for what?

“I miss her.” She just told Leliana, too tired, to battered up to bite back something.

Leliana nodded, smiled in a knowing way that brought back memories, made her look like the young person she once was, and stirred some irritation.

“It was plenty of time you did.”

“Don’t tell the idiot.”

“Oh, I’m saving this bit of information for a special occasion, worry not.”

“If you hear from her…”

“You’ll hear first.” Leliana smiled. “You always hear first from her. You know it, yes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sneered, the pang to her heart finally enough in bringing some old bite back. “I wouldn’t dare implying I know more than the next Divine.”

“It’s been nice to meet you again, Morrigan.” She looked down, and smiled at Kieran. “To meet you both. Come say hi if you are in Val Royeaux.”

She travelled south for a couple of days, just to mislead any possible person who followed her.

And then, she headed straight to Amaranthine.

---

Nathaniel welcomed her warmly and ruffled Kieran’s hair, complimenting on how much he had grown.

Morrigan saw him frowning as the boy answered with a smile that was there for politeness, but didn’t offer any explanation to the fact. She couldn’t, not now. Not with him first.

“Is she here?”

“No.” He sighed. “Still Maker knows where. The last letter came from the Anderfels, but it was five months ago.” A pause, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Of course.

It was no surprise, after all: when she came to bid her goodbye in Orlais, Alyra had said she would have been gone for a while, and that communications would have been difficult. She had built a net of spies, but it wasn’t so widespread as to reach desolate places. In the Anderfels, Morrigan knew she had a handful of people in Weisshaupt, but nothing more. And, she couldn’t risk getting found or tracked.

Hoping she would have been there, waiting to magically fix her mess, had been childish and stupid. She wasn’t living in a fairy tale, she was no Vassilissa, as much as she had liked to pretend she was, as a child. As much as Alyra had made her feel like that. Such mishaps had already happened: the first time she reached her in Vigil’s Keep, Alyra had been in Denerim, impossibilitated to move before a week. They had managed three days together. Nothing more, and it wasn’t the only time they had missed each other. It was foolish to hope things could go differently.

“Very well. Can we stay the night, before leaving again?”

Kieran looked at her, snapping his head quickly with a face of disappointment. Morrigan knew perfectly well what he was about to say, and shook her head at him.

The room was found, and there were not many things left to do save opening the window, get a fire going, and bring their bags there, their cloaks to be washed. The same room she had occupied every time she had visited, finding it in the same level of readiness to be occupied.

She observed a dapple of sun shining over the white of the fresh linens. The air smelled like clean, as clean a that place -the whole castle actually- was. Kieran shook Nathaniel’s hand, very politely, and Morrigan wished him a nice afternoon and thanked him for his hospitality. He scoffed the formalities, but hesitated on the door before leaving. He turned towards her.

“She left orders, you know.” He told her, with a smile. “You both can stay for as long as you wish. Not a word of your presence will leave the walls, she described in no lack of details what will happen to snitches to all the recruits and the staff.”

“It sounds like mamae.” Kieran convened.

“The recruits still have nightmares.”

Morrigan joined the other two laughing at that, in spite of the glomp in her throat that rose knowing that Alyra had, in fact, thought of her. Of them both. She clutched one hand in the other and told Nathaniel that she would have thought about it, when Kieran asked her if they could stay.

“Just until mamae is back. Please, mother.”

The room was warm and comfortable, and no servant batted an eye when she asked for dinner to be brought in her room, leaving Kieran to go dine with the others in the great hall. She just walked him there, watched him taking place on a bench close to Nathaniel and in front of Velanna, answering politely to the question the others asked him. Smiling.

Some normality, at long last, or whatever normality she could ever hope to offer him.

The image only made the glomp in her throat grow.

And the glomp grew further when, back in her room, the servant returned with her favourite dish.

“Lady Warden-Commander left a list of what you and your son like to eat, my lady. Just in case.” The old woman smiled, sympathetically. “If you have other preferences, please let me know.”

Morrigan closed the door behind the maid, thanking her, and with all the dignity she had left, walked to the bed and sat down, elegant as a queen.

And then she let go, falling heavily back on the bed. It was fresh and plush: a room well taken care of, as if she was expected. Alyra left orders. Alyra said to the cook what to prepare her.

She wished she never went through that eluvian, all those years ago.

What god to pray for Mahariel to come back to her safe and sound and please, come back soon, she didn’t know anymore, but she was tired. Bone-deep tired.

Maybe she could rest. For some days, at least.

Kieran would benefit from a familiar place to cope with the lack of part of his soul. Faces he knew and who loved him to help him through the change.

Yes, she decided. They both would use some rest.

For some days, at least.

If that was yet another mistake, at least Kieran would have been happy about this one.

She ignored the voices telling her to go.

---

The days became weeks. And months.

Morrigan thought they were past hospitality, but looking better she realized both her and Kieran were a part of the Keep. Expected and wanted. Kieran had his spot in the Library, and everyone in the Keep, Wardens and not, automatically started to teach him whatever knowledge they possessed as if the child was a part of their environment too.

It wasn’t Skyhold, with the Inquisitor and Lord Pavus struggling to cut a free hour for lessons in busy schedules. No, here he was welcomed and expected during activities, at very regular timings Morrigan knew were something Alyra had started in the Keep. Everything happened at a precise time, as she would have wanted.

Her absence was a presence in itself, and it was soothing. It relaxed her, and the boy as well.

Kieran still cried because at night he felt the air too silent, and often crawled in her bed, to be soothed with a hug. He was growing old for that, Morrigan knew, and yet she had not in her to shun him away, nor to scold him because it was unbecoming for a young man his age to seek his mother when he had a nightmare.

No, she hugged him tight and caressed his hair until he felt asleep against her shoulder, like she did when he was but a baby. Everything felt more bearable, more worth it, when she held him like so, alive and breathing and free.

She missed him tenderly when he was a baby, those days. She soothed him and soothed herself as well.

She missed tenderly the exact look Alyra made when she first saw him: she had melted down, the usual air of harshness crumbling in something tender and marvelled. She never looked smitten, not with her and not with Alistair. She had looked so with Kieran. She had smiled, and poked the baby’s nose with such delicate tenderness that Morrigan had burst in tears.

“If you haven’t heard from her… But I’ve written her, too. Told her you’re here.” Nathaniel said, one day when she asked again whether he had news or not. “You know her safe spots, she’s gonna return as soon as she’ll read the letters.”

“Is she?”

He sighed, deeply, stopping to look at the Wardens training in the courtyard, at Velanna crouching in front of Kieran to correct his grip on the staff. Everything went on like normal, like one would expect. A clockwork fortress that stood its ground, brought to discipline by a missing Commander and kept so by her lieutenant. Nathaniel looked that much older, and it wasn’t just the Blight paling his skin, starting to paint his black hair in grey at the temples. Command didn’t really suit him: he could do it, he had been grown for it. It was clear as day, knowing him, that he didn’t like it.

“I hope she is.” He answered, tone lowering. “What are we going to do if she isn’t?”

Morrigan considered. She didn’t want to, but it’s been seven months since the last time anyone had any news from Mahariel. The whispers in her ears told her nothing useful: tales and whispers of Deep Roads, and creatures slain, something stirring, deep down. The possibility that it was too much, even for Alyra, was concrete. More than concrete.

But she knew perfectly well what she would have answered.

“We stop being stupid about it and go on.”

He laughed, bitterly, and couldn’t but agree with her.

They went on, but Morrigan still didn’t feel like leaving, even if everything told her she should not stay any longer, she was being stupid about it, waiting for a person that would have never come back.

She once thought that her plans wouldn’t have allowed her to stay more than a handful of months in one place, but as per now, she wasn’t sure what were her plans anymore.

So, she just listened to the voices from the Well, concentrated on them and tried to interpret them.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but all she could devise was one word.

Stay.

It seemed a fitting excuse to be stupid about it and listen.

---

Something was  on the bed, crawled into her arms.

She sighed and shifted, still more than a half asleep, she shifted her arms on the figure, rested her chin more comfortably on the head, thinking it was Kieran.

“Another nightmare?”

“He had one, but he’s asleep, right now.”

It was enough to make Morrigan jolt awake, every trace of sleep instantly gone. She snapped her fingers and a ball of fire started in the air, balanced on the palm of her hand to illuminate the rest of her bed.

Red hair, glinting orange and golden in the firelight, carefully braided in an intricate motive to stay out of her face. A practical style, a travelling one. Dark tattoos marking her brow, making her features less minute and delicate than they were. Beside her eyes, usually, but tonight those eyes were mellower than their usual.

“You’re-” There were at least ten thoughts in her head, but the whispers were loud and insisting, hissing about alarms and danger and wrongness, and she grew distracted. “Am I still dreaming?”

It was all that she managed to spit.

Alyra Mahariel, the Warden-Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, survivor of yet another mission everyone with some brain would have deemed impossible, frowned at her. She rose on one elbow, the shoulder of her nightsuit daintly slipping off a shoulder. Muscly, but less than Morrigan remembered. She looked thinner, more ghastly, the bags under her eyes were darker and her cheeks looked hollow, and the Witch knew it wasn’t just the light. If all, the light masked how more grey-ish her skin had gotten.

“it depends.” Alyra extended a hand, hesitating just a moment, just to see a nod from the other, before cupping Morrigan’s cheek. “Is it a good dream?”

A thumb caressed Morrigan’s cheekbone with tenderness, the pressure barely perceptible. The elf slid forward, very slowly and carefully as if she was afraid of startling a wild animal. Her face grew closer, her lips parted, but still she stopped at but a breath space from a kiss. She brushed her lips with her own, and waited for the other to consent. As she had done from the start, inviting but never pressing.

It made the glomp in Morrigan’s throat only bigger, as she realized that it was really Alyra, not an impostor. Her breath on her lips, the gentle pressure of her hand on her cheek were not a dream. The whispers were more pressing, insisting on the verge of deafening: they spoke of decay and death and wrongness, and danger. Morrigan had seen her slice so many throats, kill enough people in cold blood to say the Well was wrong.

But that wasn’t the whole of it.

The Well knew many things, but the Well didn’t know everything. Not the care in which she cupped her face, not the love in which she still waited for Morrigan to take the first step, without forcing her or making her feel trapped or pressured. That little choice she gave her, knowing how important it was for her.

She waited in Amaranthine for 7 months, and for 7 months she endured and kept strong, hid under the carpet all the negative.

Only then, 7 months after Corypheus had been slain, 9 since she drank from the Well and lost her freedom yet again, in front of that little tenderness, Morrigan allowed herself to cry.

She folded forward, and the fact that she was met with a solid shoulder and arms that held her, made her cry more. She circled the other woman’s bust and held her with all she had in her. She didn’t remember the last time she cried like that, so loud and intensely. She held Alyra like she would have disappeared again if she let go, and squeezed her past the point of comfort. She had missed her, missed her so much that the voices in her head felt more distant, more quiet.

“What happened?”

She asked her, tenderly combing her hair with her fingers -stiffer than her usual, Morrigan didn’t want to know whether she was just tired or her mission had failed and the Blight was starting to get hold of her. She couldn’t face it, now. As the elf patiently waited for an answer. Morrigan felt the deep, satisfied sigh, her frame melting against hers, as if she too hadn’t relaxed in ages and was waiting for it.

“I-” She started, but the words died in her throat. She didn’t want to know, but she had to. She needed at least one thing to go right, in the grand scheme of things. “… Did you succeed?”

She didn’t need to specify in which exactly. And she hated the whiny tone the question came out from her mouth with. It was pitiful and pathetic, and she wasn’t a person who begged. She could care later, tho.

“Avernus has it. A last round of control.” Alyra answered, her arms holding her tighter. “… I have the Cure.”

Morrigan started crying again, fat tears surging instantly to her eyes, as some weight she didn’t realise she was carrying lifted from her shoulder. Alyra disentangled from the hug, still as quick and agile as ten years ago in her prime, and moved to cup her cheeks and delicately pull her head so she was looking in her eyes. Her eyes were shiny too, and she looked tired. Bone-deep tired. But less stoney than she had seen her ever since she first met their son. She pushed forward and gently nuzzled her nose with her own, stopping as usual but a breath away from her lips. Morrigan, this time, didn’t hesitate: she filled the distance and kissed her, her taste all so familiar and soothing. Finally, after three years.

“What happened to you?” She broke the kiss, but didn’t stray far, delicately kissing tears away from her cheeks. “You’ve missed me before, but you haven’t ever cried like so. Not even when I told you I couldn’t follow you through your mirror.”

Morrigan sighed, pressing forward until her face drowned in the crook of the other’s neck. Alyra shifted, urging her to lie down after a while that they hadn’t moved. Her back ached, she said: she had ridden fast and hard all day, and they weren’t all that young anymore.

She settled them under the covers, tugging the hem on Morrigan’s shoulder with just one hand. The other arm held her close all throughout, as if she knew she needed to be this close, hear her steady heartbeat under her ear, when she moved.

Satisfied, she settled more comfortably around the witch, holding Morrigan as she kept combing her hair with her fingers, absent-mindedly. Tracing circles on her skin. Pressing a kiss where she could, every now and then. On her cheek, jaw, neck and shoulder. She even started to humm a song: a familiar tune she had sung to Kieran every time she was there to tuck him to sleep.

Three years since they last saw each other.

Morrigan could have written more, or could have travelled to meet her. She could have travelled with her, even. She could have stayed in Amaranthine, 10 years ago when they met for the first time after the Blight. Alyra couldn’t move, but Morrigan could have stayed. She wondered what could have been, if she had. Kieran growing up happy with people he could have called family.

She could have done so many things more for the woman in her arms, the woman she loved.

And yet, as cruel and ruthless and unforgiving as her fame said, Alyra Mahariel never put an ounce of blame on her. She was crying, so Alyra held her and soothed her until tears stopped.

She wondered if she would have done the same knowing what she did at the Well of Sorrow. Knowing that she took the Well away from two Dalish. The Well and the voices whispered she was theirs, that the illusion that she belonged with her was just that. She belonged to them, now. It was foolish to hope anything else. Such was the price she paid.

Bile rose in her throat, the thought of losing her love unbearable and anguishing.

But once again, she had to know.

Hunger for knowledge was what would have brought her demise, ultimately. And it was better now than later, she thought. Even if it was the most terrifying thing she had ever done.

Her hands fisted in the cotton of her shirt, a silent plea not to go, to stay where she was. Four words that weighted like the whole castle slowly creeped out of her lips.

“I made a mistake.”

[dapolyshipping]

Nominations Update!

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Please provide gender and last name for Inquisitor and Warden, i.e. "Male Lavellan" and "Female Cousland"

Alistair/Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford

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Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Lace Harding/Inquisitor

Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet/Cullen Rutherford

Inquisitor/Leliana/Josephine Montilyet/Cullen Rutherford

Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford

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Zevran Arainai/Rinna/Taliesen

To Make Corrections:

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[herald-divine-hell]

The wives fighting together.

It's quite upsetting that they added Leliana to able to fight with the Inquisitor depending on the missions but she ain't a companion 🥺😔

[ell-vellan]

about me

Hi! Call me Ell or Autumn (she/her). I'm a writer by hobby and profession. This blog is mostly Dragon Age and Baldur's Gate 3, but also a little bit of The Witcher Netflix, Shadow & Bone, Mass Effect, writing, and just generally media I enjoy. Probably going to include more Sleep Token in the future. Sometimes science. Rarely, my own meta and fanfic writing.

Ao3

My DA Meta Posts

My Writing

My OCs

I'm an adult and I write adult things, so follow at your own discretion. I don't knowingly follow back or privately chat with minors - nothing personal!

I try to curate a positive space here as much as possible for my mental health. I don't tend to post anti stuff, and I utilize the block function pretty readily.

I'm inconsistent at best with tagging, though I do make an effort to tag for common triggers. The only one you might see regularly is a cw for blood (in fanart, not real blood). If you need something tagged, you are free to ask, but I can't guarantee I'll never forget to include it.

I'm always happy to chat about any of our shared interests, be tagged in things, or get asks about my writing, characters, or media. But I'm not here to argue, and I don't engage with negativity.

My Canon Dragon Age Worldstates for fic purposes:

(List not exhaustive - major highlights only.)

"Happily Ever After":

DAO: female warrior Cousland x King Alistair, ruled together, dark ritual with Morrigan, killed Loghain

DA2: male warrior Hawke x Anders, templar Carver, sided with mages

DAI: undecided!

"Elfy":

DAO: Male rogue Mahariel x Zevran, King Alistair rules alone, killed Loghain, dark ritual with Morrigan.

DA2: Male mage Hawke x Fenris, spared Anders, circle mage Bethany survived, sided with mages

DAI: female mage Lavellan x Iron Bull (though my hc is Solas is an almost-maybe ex), allied with mages and Grey Wardens, Divine Leliana (softened)

Favorite DA Characters: (aka the ones you'll see most of my rbs about)

Zevran, Alistair, Fenris, The Iron Bull, Krem, Morrigan

Favorite pairings:

Zevran/Warden, Cousland/Alistair, Hawke/Anders/Fenris, Hawke/Fenris, Hawke/Anders, Bull/Dorian, Bull/Inquisitor

Not an exhaustive list by any means.

[spectralhero]

Leliana/Female Warden stories

Back at it again with stories that just hit the right spots and that keep me sane during these times!

@morganaseren‘s Over the Sea to the Clouds Above 

 - Leliana/Female Cousland

@noeldressary‘s The Dark Wolf and the Red Fox

 - Leliana/Female Cousland

@chaosroid ‘s  I Dreamt that I Grew Old With You

 - Leliana/ Female Tabris

Snafu1000′s Moment’s in Time series

 - Leliana/Female Cousland

Axis II (Axis_II)‘s The Beginning in The End series.

 - Leliana/Female Amell 

[mortt-artsy]

Soft mornings