#theia x josephine

[veridium]

Ficlet: “All Work + Some Play”

Theia Trevelyan x Josephine Montilyet

Category: SMUT. IN THIS ECONOMY? IT’S MORE LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. 

Warning + Author’s Note: #NSFW for explicit sexual content. (It’s been 84 years...I know...)

--

She knew where to find her. She’d always know where to find her; forever and always. Another night working her fingers to the bone writing and surveying the war council table, candles and torches illuminating where the long-fallen sun couldn’t. Theia slipped in between the door and saw her there, standing and not bothering to look up. Nose crinkled, brow low, mouth mumbling numbers without voice.

She found her.

With a smirk and a shut door, Theia walked slow. “My love, you work for deadlines answerable to no one higher than yourself, and yet you still act as if you are on someone else’s dial,” she observed, hips dragging.

Josephine, ever the one for focus, kept writing. “Theia, you pretend I control the world’s time at the touch of my thumb,” she replied, a touch of absent-minded distance in her tone. Oh, that simply wouldn’t do.

“Josephine,” she said, low and playfully chiding as she ran her fingers through her white hair, “have you gotten the impression that I am dismissable?”

The Ambassador wrote more, quill hissing against the paper. “Never, what would--” Josephine’s eyes glanced up to see no one standing there even though she was sure Theia had simply been standing on the other side of the table, stepping heavy and smiling. Looking around, she blinked and parted her lips.

Theia had gotten too used to Fade-walking ever since being promoted as a Knight Enchanter. To be fair, it had its versatile uses, one of which was getting herself to where she needed to be: up against her woman’s back, hands slipping around her sides. One going up to her chest and the other...well, the opposite direction.

With her mouth to her ear, Theia reformed full in the flesh, a subtle grin on her teeth. She laughed, hushed and sinister but with the best intentions. Josephine gave out what sounded like a soft exhale, a wanting one, but controlled.

“You may dismiss me, but I’ll have your full attention for it.”

Josephine leaned into her, just enough, just the right amount for Theia to know she didn’t abhor her trick completely. “Amor, you cannot be insinuating that I would…”

“I’m not insinuating…” Theia smiled, teeth grading on the rim of her ear, “I’m asking. Begging, if I must.”

“W-what has gotten into you? Did you have too much wine with dinner?”

She was stalling. Distracting her ego. Josephine played well; all it took was one appeal to Theia’s vanity and she would have her spun out from her agenda. Explaining and bantering on about how she wasn’t drunk, and she didn’t need to be. A move, tried and true, but Theia learned.

She smirked, removing her hands from their more direct destinations, grabbing Josephine by the shoulders and turning her around to face her. No farther than a breath between their mouths as she looked at her lips with hunger.

And Josephine was grinning. Distracted, but tempted. Her skin, her freckles, her blemishes that compiled her like a watercolor come to life. How could she resist her?

Theia’s thumb and index finger curled under her lover’s chin. “If it is work you wish to make you sweat, by all means, work.”

Josephine tilted her head. “...the look in your eyes says that is anything but a concession on your part.”

“Work, Josephine,” Theia hummed, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth as her hands slipped low.

Josephine blushed an ember hue in her cheeks as Theia unhitched her belt. With her other hand she grabbed the quill the Ambassador had set down, placing it back in her hand where it rightfully belonged. Everything in her face was saying you cannot be serious, but her arching back and hot exhalations said you better be.

“Theia…” Josephine mumbled, grip clenching on the the quill in one hand and the edge of Theia’s vest rim with the other, every single scruple said it was wrong. That it was unsightly. That it was not good practice to sully a place of collective congress.

But then Theia slipped her mouth up her neck, agape and ravenous, but not daring to cut or bite. And she moaned. Breathless, light, an escape, but a moan nonetheless. Then Theia had found her way to the lace layer of smalls, the final line between her hand and where she wanted to feel. Josephine spread her knees and secured them around Theia’s hips, one of her slippers falling off of her feet and onto the floor.

“Work,” Theia moaned against her, palm pressing against her entrance, warm and pressured to perfection.

Josephine swallowed, eyes blinking open and shut in flutters. “I...I have to...I have to return the correspondence to Lord Selstin--” the name collapsed into another moan as Theia pressed harder, in both her grip and her mouth. Theia held back a devious smile.

“Mhm,” she growled against the crook of her jaw, “and what of the requisitions?”

“Agh, those must be quanitified and appropriated to the...the...the!” Josephine gripped against her sharply feeling heat against her inner thighs. Theia had mastered the art of ignition for one task and one task only -- burning through the Orlesian lace that was artfully made to be torn asunder. Josephine rubbed a knee higher against the side of her waist.

But, like all things with Josephine Montilyet, it had only been a matter of time before she would take the momentum of the play and harness it for her own needs. She guided Theia’s mouth to hers, and as they both smiled against each other’s lips, she cooed.

“And then there are the acquisitions from the treaties we consolidated last week,” she whispered, “all seven of them, written and censu--” a crack in her throat as Theia’s index and middle fingers brushed into her, sweeping against her and meeting no resistance. She exhaled against her lover’s mouth, Theia keeping her gaze on her as she continued her rhythm. Onward, faster, but with a depth of someone who could not help herself but know every since inch of her.

She bit down playfully on Josephine’s lip, her free hand pulling down one of her stockings so as to feel the smoothness and bristled hair on her thigh, elbow bending up until she got all the way to the top of her knee. Josephine’s breathing only grew quicker and desperate. Her hand planted behind her snapping the quill in half as she braced against her more and more. She would rip the vest if she could, but she would have to settle for biting down on the collar of it.

She wrapped her arm around Theia’s neck as the Inquisitor remained unwavering in pursuit of what she wanted. She was so warm, so wet, abundant in her hand that it made her heart beat as if it would rupture from her chest. She felt a symbiotic surge of energy in between her own hips, a sympathetic insurgence that told her everything she needed to know about how close she was. How close they were.

She kissed against Josephine’s neck some more. Leaning into her and feeling helpless as she felt Josephine’s hips grind slow against her hand. She loved it when she did that.

A crack, a higher pitch, pushing past a boundary. Close, so close.

Theia clutched the side of Josephine’s bare thigh, her lips to her ear.

“Please, Josephine, please,” she moaned with a desperation no one in the world would know but her. The salted layer of sweat chilling the top of Theia’s lip as it touched her cheek. “Please…” her hand went fast, but not recklessly. Fast as in determined, honed on the spot just to the right of her clit. The spot that was too much and never enough.

Josephine’s voice went higher, more wistful, and her back arched with an immediacy that was tell-tale. Her fingers and knees pressed unforgivingly against Theia’s body and she moaned, moaned like no one else could hear, over and over. Railing, crashing, waving. Cracking and cresting.

Theia found the spot and pressed, rhythm finding its limit and then surpassing it. It was what made it go so long, so urgent, so unrelenting.

“Theia!” Josephine cried into her shoulder when she did, a reprimand and a rejoicing. She tilted her head back, allowing for Theia to sink her mouth in the valley of her neck above her collar bone. No layers or robes could get in the way.

Then, the release from the brink.

Josephine eased, muscles giving into blissful looseness. Theia’s hand pulled her stocking up smoothly, and all at once she had her hand at the small of her back as she guided her to lay down on the table. Flat on her back and cutting through Seheron, the Ambassador’s chest heaved up into the air with reverie.

Theia, retracted her hand, slipping out from its sanctum and helping to anchor her as she leaned over her. She beheld her, chest close to hers.

Josephine opened her eyes at last, pupils fixating on her lover as she gazed down upon her.

“Anything else, Ambassador?” Theia teased as she brushed her thigh between her legs, making her shiver once more.

Josephine chuckled breathlessly, followed by a tsk on her tongue. She kneed Theia in the side, making her fall forward more until their noses nearly touched.

“Yes...Inquisitor,” she exhaled, holding her hand in a fist between their necks. A soft smile, victorious. “You owe me a replacement quill. I must finish these ledgers before midnight. And I prefer the...fine-tipped and polished variety...please.”

Theia raised a brow. She wanted to laugh, she wanted to insist on more, she wanted to defy that smugness of hers and until she had nothing left to say but scream. But, looking down into her brilliant green and hazel-toned eyes, Theia saw everything she loved about her. Everything that was formidable and worthy of exaltation. She would make love to her in so many ways, so many kinds of ways, and be the better for it. She pressed her lips to hers out of sacred reverence, before it would be back to work.

[veridium]

otp: bold what applies tag

tagged by the lovely @trvelyans who has gorgeous characters and otps! thank you, friend!

I tag @dickeybbqpit, @caffeinated-mabari, and @sunwarden! if you want!

Directions Are: Bold what applies, italics for what somewhat/sometimes applies!

Olivia Sinclair + Cassandra Pentaghast 

height difference | mutual pining | first kiss | first love | wedding | in-jokes | lgbt+ | family disapproves | friend disapproves | would die for each other | fake relationship | arranged wedding | cuddlers | pda friendly | and they were room mates | holding hands | secret relationship | opposing world views | opposing personalities | opposing goals | getting a pet | have kids | want kids | grow old together | relationship failures | rests head on shoulder | share a bed | token dummies | relationship doubts | they have a song | first date | share a jacket/cloak | sharing a blanket | mutual interests | study buddies | bathing together | crash into hello | accidental nudity | laundry | same hobbies | cooking for each other | big fancy gala | sibling rivalry | hair stroking | dancing | laying in the grass | watching stars together | watching the other sleep | shared values | friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | lovers to enemies | childhood friends | slow burn | love triangle | toxic relationship | sitting on each other’s laps | can’t be together | hugs | forehead touches | neck kisses | car/motorbike rides | compliments |nicknames | falling asleep together | late night talks | gifts

Theia Trevelyan + Josephine Montilyet 

height difference | mutual pining | first kiss | first love | wedding | in-jokes | lgbt+ | family disapproves | friend disapproves | would die for each other | fake relationship | arranged wedding | cuddlers | pda friendly | and they were room mates | holding hands | secret relationship | opposing world views | opposing personalities | opposing goals | getting a pet | have kids | want kids | grow old together | relationship failures | rests head on shoulder | share a bed | token dummies | relationship doubts | they have a song | first date | share a jacket/cloak |sharing a blanket | mutual interests | study buddies | bathing together | crash into hello | accidental nudity | laundry | same hobbies | cooking for each other | big fancy gala | sibling rivalry | hair stroking | dancing | laying in the grass | watching stars together | watching the other sleep | shared values | friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | lovers to enemies | childhood friends | slow burn | love triangle | toxic relationship | sitting on each other’s laps | can’t be together | hugs | forehead touches | neck kisses | car/motorbike rides | compliments |nicknames | falling asleep together | late night talks | gifts

[veridium]

Top ten ways Theia makes Josephine blush/flustered/a useless bisexual

Oh, anon. This is gonna make me so giddy. 

Top ten ways Theia makes Josephine lose her Bisexual Cool:

1. They wake up frequently with Theia as big spoon, and she’s got a knack for kissing her shoulder half-awake throughout the night so when Josie wakes up it’s almost always with the feeling of Theia breathing on her shoulder.

2. She winks at her from across the room. She’s actually good at it, and it makes her blush every time. 

3. When she leaves Skyhold for missions she pools her hands together in hers and kisses them. 

4. The way she looks at her when she feeds her a spoonful from her bowl of soup.

5. The way Theia’s posture straightens up every time Josephine slips a hand on her arm, like she has to shape up for the honor of guiding a Lady. 

6. The way Theia’s irises light up when she looks at her from across the room, no matter how crowded. 

7. The way she kisses every inch of her body with the utmost reverence, as if at any point in her life she could be deemed undeserving of it but every time it’s like an unprecedented honor.

8. The way she tucks her chin and looks away when she laughs nervously. 

9. Her arm and shoulder muscles when she pushes herself out of her bath.

10. When she touches Josephine’s face with little traces of static on her fingers that make a shiver go up and down her sides. 

[veridium]

I’m watching “Becoming Jane” with dinner and MAN IF THIS ISN’T THEIA AND JOSEPHINE’S FLIRTING DYNAMIC 

[veridium]

🖊️

Thank you for the ask, friend! I think I’ll dedicate this one to sweet Theia. 

The first Santinalia Theia spent with Josephine in her life was a delicate one; it was also the first one she spent outside of the Circle, and change tends to be uncomfortable for her. She remembers the traditions and observations the Free Marches conducted during the holiday, but feels they are irrelevant to her life now, especially with regards to the friendships and relationship she has in her life. Nonetheless, she’ll take every opportunity to make Josephine feel special in the midst of so much uncertainty and high-stakes work. 

Then, she learns that Santinalia in Antiva is vastly more exuberant in culture than it is in the Free Marches, so when Josephine plans multiple days of fortress-wide celebrations and suppers to liven the spirits of all those who work there, Theia feels quite underwhelming. The Santinalia she remembers is full of prayer, meditation, humble gifts, and feasts where everyone tries to prove their piety and fortitude of soul. She did not grow up with such customs, and feels like her simple little gift will be underwhelming to the Ambassador who has seen it all. 

The time comes and she gives it to her in private, up in her quarters away from the party. It is a book on genealogical lore, first edition, found deep in the archives of the college in Orlais after the Inquisitor pulled in a few favors. Josephine is quiet at first, her hand to her mouth as she stares at the cover. Theia is dreading it – she probably already has five copies of it, annotated and translated perhaps. Biting on her tongue she watches, waiting for any kind of reaction, any ounce of truth. 

Josephine swallows lightly and gazes up at her, eyes shining. She had been looking for this copy for years, and could never find it. She even went personally to the university archives while in Orlais as an Ambassador, but it never turned up. She rushes over to her and throws her arms around her, book tightly in hand. Theia starts to laugh, and wraps her own arms around her waist.

Beginner’s luck, she thinks to herself. 

[veridium]

Welcome to DWC :) prompt for any da:i pairing: “Shhh, they’ll hear us.”

Hello and thank you so much! I am so excited to be joining up with such a rad group.

Gardens and Other Audiences

for @dadrunkwriting

Characters: Theia x Josephine

Category: Fluff

–

“The garden is beautifully lit tonight, do you not think so, mi amor?” Josephine smiled as she leaned against the stone half-wall, her face almost luminescent in the wake of all the lanterns and strung lights that were draped from the Fortress roof edges out across the open air. The swooped from the main structure in intertwining rows lightly billowing in the evening breeze, connecting to the decayed stone archways across the way.

Theia stood tall, her hands behind her back and emulating the posture of her dear friend the Seeker; spending exorbitant amounts of time with people often led to more mannerisms translating than simply speech or laughter. She grinned crookedly at Josephine’s observation.

“It is very much so, almost like Dorian’s face when he is playing around with the experiments. Though, much more benign.”

“Agh, that man,” Josephine said under her breath, turning to peer at the Inquisitor from her periphery. “You spend so much time with him, I would imagine you not only complicit, but co-conspirator.” “Why, yes. Someone must show him the capabilities of static magic for various…” Theia caught herself, chuckling under her breath. She almost confessed to some mischievous deeds, “I mean, what I wanted to say, is–”

“Yes, yes, I am aware. You speculate but you do not know personally what he is up to.”

“Precisely, darling.”

Josephine smirked and narrowed her eyes, spinning around to sit back against the railing. Her hands rested at either side of her hips on the cold stone. “Are you mocking me, now?” she asked with a sly grin. Theia looked out unto the greenery trying not to get too caught up in Josephine’s beauty to surrender so easily. Biting the side of her lip, she leaned onto one hip and shook her head. “I would not dream of such an odious misstep, my love.”

“Then why are your eyes glowing with guilt?” Lady Montilyet retorted, her chin tilting slightly.

“I am simply admiring the view of the garden is all.”

“Intriguing considering you are making direct eye contact with me and not the incredible bushels of elfroot and crystal grace there are a few feet behind me.”

“Perhaps I am mistaken, then, and the view I am admiring has merely stunned me into confusion.”

Josephine inhaled shallowly, a hint of blush in her cheeks. It intensified when Theia locked eyed with her, her magically-imbued irises sparkling like she said they were. The Inquisitor knew it added to her charm rather than harmed it, which is why she found it only necessary to step forward, reaching her hands to either side of the Ambassador’s waist. Her mouth in the shape of a sly smile as it traveled to the side of Josephine’s cheek, in front of her ear.

Josephine stifled a giggle, her apprehension of decorum refusing to be completely shirked.

“Shh, love, or they’ll hear you,” Theia whispered as she pressed gentle but hungry kisses against the top of her neck and jawline.

“Who?! Who is here?” Josephine flinched, turning to look down the hallway that seemed to her understanding quite empty. Her sudden jump made Theia chuckle as she pulled her in closer.

“I was referring to the elfroot. I hear they are quite sensitive to sounds of euphoria.”

“Oh, you!” Josephine, scoffed, gripping tightly on her upper arms. “You think so little of my threshold of pleasure.”

“On the contrary, I wish to exalt it,” Theia whispered low, her tongue sticking between her teeth as she eyed her one last time, before pulling her in for the real thing: a sweet and longing kiss from which they were not to withdraw from for neither lanterns nor opulent gardens.

[veridium]

“Scars and Imperfections”

Theia x Josephine 

Category: Fluff

Summary: Theia prepares for another day as Inquisitor, and reflects upon the way her body has been impressed upon by her young, but tumultuous life. Josephine steps in, and intervenes as the Inquisitor finds herself spinning about the consequences of being prone to bodily harm. 

--

Theia’s morning routine was always her one moment to slow time down to her own kind of pace. Rising from bed, her aching muscles stretching into their activeness, her thoughts on the tasks ahead of her. The role of Inquisitor had come with a most deadly learning curve, but in the span of a little less than a year the trials and tribulations had worn on her body. They had molded and shaped her irrevocably from who she was, but that did not mean she had lost all joys.

Getting ready, for one, provided her with new opportunities for meditative peace.

Standing in her smallclothes and sliding into the underlayer top, her thoughts circulated quietly. That is, until she caught a full-length vision of herself in the mirror. Her top remaining unbuttoned, she stopped and let her hands slide down the sides of her torso. Her pale skin in the morning light was a most unforgiving and bright canvas for the ways in which her short life had taken bites out of her.

She began to rub a hand across her stomach, making contact with several scarred over battle wounds. The largest one, from Emprise du Lion – the one she almost perished from foolishly. At the age of 24, her skin was still young, nimble, and taut. But, these scars had proven just how much a reckless life could age you, running in place whilst time refused to keep up.

She sighed under her breath, feeling the coarse ridge of her battle wound that stretched itself across half her side. Her eyes traveled up, to the scars and scrapes along her chest and below her collar bone. They were smaller, harder to remember where they came from. Then, she scanned downwards at her bare thighs and knees – a long scar curling around upwards from the top of her right knee up along the side. She remembered the man who did that to her – and the way life left his eyes when she got her vengeance for it.

You glow so perfectly, Theia, you look like you are made of porcelain!

One of Theia’s relatives complimented her this way during one of her family’s gatherings, back when she was young and sheltered from the outside world. Back then, she felt shy about her perceived perfection; it had come from isolation, and not from exalted love. Her Mother hardly allowed her to wander her own home without an chaperone, and not for her own protection, but for everyone around her. Theia didn’t feel perfect because of her own merit, she felt perfect because she had never had the chance to be beautiful in any other way.

She remembered the first time a Templar ever laid a hand on her. He smacked her on the mouth when she stood up for a friend. A fourteen-year-old Mage with a mouth was inconvenient, but easily put in her place. His violence left a mark, however: a softly purple bruise on the side of her mouth. Whilst everyone grimaced or scowled at this, Theia remembered the conflict in her: the sorrow of being mistreated, paired with the pride she had in finally having a life that touched her.

It would be years before she would decide that she deserved to decide just how that touch would affect her – when, where, why, and from whom. Until then, she used her body as a shield for her friends, and sharpened the weapon of her magic in wait.

Now, though, after so much loss and travesty, her scars were no longer romantic to her. They were the cost she paid for cheating death like a merciless Mage wench. Her life was unnatural, and her scars were a bastardization of the death she probably deserved.

And, of course, there was the struggle against the internalized beauty standards a woman’s noble birth imbued. She couldn’t even be pretty, least of all touchless. Could a perfection exist without loneliness? Theia would never have the luxury of finding out.

She bit her lip, grounding her mind as she tried to refocus on the routine at hand. She did not have the time to mull over insecurities or entertain shallowness. Closing her eyes, she reached her hands to the buttons of her underlayer and went to work.

The darkness was broken by the feeling of arms wrapping around her sides and taking hold of her busybody hands.

Promptly, Theia opened her eyes to see Josephine, with her mouth resting on her lover’s shoulder as she bit back a sly smile. Her eyes stared back at her through the mirror, the shades of sea water glimmering with a devotion in them that Theia would daydream about when she was out in the world. Josephine had watched her lament for herself, there, having woken up and discreetly observed from afar. She could not endure the distance for long, especially when she felt Theia was getting lost in her mind.

As their eyes made contact through the reflection, Theia sighed a bittersweet grin. Her hands softened their grip, releasing the fabric from their methodical grip. As her arms fell to her sides, Josephine’s reached and placed themselves open-palmed across her abdomen, sliding smoothly across the same uneven and textured scars.

“Have I told you just how beautiful you are, mi amor?” Josephine cooed, the warm air of her breath reaching down across Theia’s skin.

“Hm,” Theia smirked, reaching back behind her and placing her hands on the sides of Josephine’s hips, feeling the soft linen of her night dress. “Too much for me to hope that my modesty could ever recover.”

Josephine shook her head slightly, a hand reaching up towards the middle of Theia’s chest, cozily wedging itself between her breasts. “There are worse things than a heroine with a belief in her charms.”

“Oh, I am sure. Though, history may prove us both wrong. ‘The Inquisitor fought all the way to the lair of Corypheus himself, but perished after becoming distracted by the reflection of herself in her staff blade.’”

Tightening her grip around her waist, Josephine stifled a laugh. “Then be sure to look most unattractive when the time comes, and no concern will be necessary for such a blunder.”

Theia laid her head back, resting it on Josephine’s shoulder as she smiled. “As you wish, my Lady. It has always been my dream to be the most unbecoming hero of the Age. They already have too much to write about me anyways, why add illustrious looks to the list?”

“Precisely,” Josephine kissed her shoulder. “Then, I can have the truth of your exquisiteness all to myself, including these most alluring battle scars of yours.”

Theia paused, taking in the sweetness of her words. Josephine infamously had the talent of knowing just what to say, and when. Though, it was all the more remarkable to know her skill translated to her more personal dynamics, and not just her professional ones. It would prove useful in loving a woman who felt doomed to overwhelming loneliness inside her own head. When she found herself spinning and circling, it was Josephine’s way of calling her back that proved a saving grace.

“Even if they know every ounce of truth, Josephine, you will be the only soul to know just how the Inquisitor found her way back from the brink of her own self every time this life proved heavy,” she admitted in a moment of sincere, aching honesty – a rarity for her, but nevertheless valid.

Realizing, then, that there was no clever quip from her lover, Josephine smiled and rested her cheek against her shoulder. Her arms were inch-for-inch around her, comforting in their closeness.

“Agh, I would hardly attest to such a skill from simply interrupting your morning dress, but of course, if that is your informed opinion I will happily concede.”

[veridium]

She turned to her bookshelf, approached it with a need for mercy. She leaned up against it head on, eyes closing and creasing as she desperately wished for a way to keep herself together. How dare she? How dare she, for once in her cursed life, say so little? Theia was a chatterbox, she loved metaphors, sarcastic quips, illustrious stories. She was a textbook bullshitter. Why now, with all the seriousness and heartbreaking diction? There were all these questions, but Josephine already knew the answer: because she really meant it.

She pivoted on her hip so as to lean on the bookshelf with her side, a hand holding up the letter to her gaze as she went over the words again and again. What she wouldn’t have given to just have her stand in front of her and say them to her face.

So help me, Maker. So help me, Inquisition. If this is the last thing I will ever have of her…

Inquisitor Trevelyan & Ambassador Montilyet // #Theiaphine

[veridium]

a kiss when it’s not allowed. (your choice!)

Oh, I love this one! I am going to do it for Theia x Josephine because MAKER KNOWS they are in so many spaces where affection is “not allowed.”

“Fade Into The Crowd”

Theia x Josephine

–

It was hour six of a Maker-foresaken diplomatic presence at an assembly in the Capitol. All members of the nobility who had been in Val Royeaux had attended, and even some out of town had made the journey when they had heard that the Inquisitor herself would be in attendance. Theia knew the pull she had, and the momentum it fueled for nauseating interactions.

After the fifth or so conversation that surrounded her taste in outfits, she had managed to weave her way through the crowd gallantly with hands behind her back. The thickness of her tailored Inquisition coat was proving warmer than she needed, but perhaps it was the sheer volume of bodies in the room.

All things considered, it did not help her arousal in temperature when she spotted the Ambassador through the crowds of head and shoulders, dressed exquisitely in a gold and black Antivan gown. Seeing her laugh, place her hand to her hip – the beautiful orchestration of her – it was enough to melt the Frostbacks as far as Theia was concerned. 

The Inquisitor was never one for an akin to fire or heat, but Lady Montilyet had made a hypocrite out of her. 

So, at last when she arrived in the Ambassador’s sphere, she decided to have some form of entertaining gratification in the evening. Encircling the group of ridiculously dressed Orlesians, Theia smiled mishieviously as the stretched her hand open and fluttered the fingers in a waving motion. The result was a fade cloak, one she was just out of sight enough to slip into without bringing attention to herself.

She knew she only had so much time, so she slipped in through the shoulders and skirts, to where her woman stood. Once she was at her back, she gently placed a hand along the side of her torso. Like a thief, she then sunk her lips into the side of Josephine’s poised neckline, reverently kissing the space between her shoulder and neck – the soft skin warming her. 

“Of course Lord – ah” Josephine could be heard, cutting herself off from her train of opinionated discourse.

Even though her priority had been getting what she wanted, it was an extra twist of pleasure to notice the way Josephine had gone from talking masterfully on some political subject, to feeling the sensation of her lover’s lips on her. The way her chest raised as she inhaled a repentant breath, her eyelids fluttering. The patterns of goosebumps tracing up her arms and back. Seeing her react, Theia only pressed her hand on her side more.

It was possessive, something they could only indulge in. But, Theia could not always resist making it known to the universe. She wanted Josephine to know, too.

This whole dreaded Assembly can have you now, but know I hunger for you this way. 

But, as unapologetically assertive as it had been, the feeling released itself from Josephine’s senses. Feeling the absence, she exhaled, and shook her head. “Forgive me, it was as if I was about to sneeze,” she said, placing her hand on her chest like a Lady would when confronted with her own inconvenient bodily mannerisms.

The Noble woman beside her then giggled, endlessly intrigued by the Ambassador’s existence. It was hard not to be. So, when a few minutes later the Inquisitor made her way to the group, this time visible and ready to be introduced, the woman could not understand why the Ambassador was looking at the Herald as if she wanted to both stop on her foot, and rip her clothes off.

Such things were not allowed in these spaces of utmost decorum.

Send Me a Fucked Up Kiss!

[veridium]

“All That Glitters” Chapter 7 is Now Live!

Summary:  Cassandra has gambled with her life, and now she must experience the consequences of tempting its hold. She receives a visit from a certain person of her past -- or an impression of them -- and it tests her fortuity. Meanwhile, Olivia unleashes herself in the mortal world, showing just who she can be when you take from her that which she refuses to let go.

Characters: Olivia, Theia, Josephine, Cassandra

Author’s Note: Wow, I’m really terrible, okay. I’m really sorry. BUT ALSO. Olivia’s rage is almighty. 

--

There was so much pain. So much, it felt as though death would surely be more painless than this. No other senses dared challenge its supremacy. It felt like this for as long as her memory managed to record. Then, it seemed to become her new stasis – was this what it was like to die? Endless, numbing agony? The Maker had a way with making processes of life and death more convoluted than human understanding could interpret.

Everything was dark, dull, and spacious. She had expected the Fade to be similar to how she experienced it at the Inquisitor’s side – she had not the expansive knowledge of just how dynamic it could be that her Mage counterparts knew.

Colors, then. Red, purple, and blue, like the hues that went into blood’s coloration. It was all amorphous, blurring into one another like a messy pool of watercolor. Cassandra hadn’t the sense to narrate for herself what this all felt like, but she could feel her mind start to sharpen in its expression. Words, one at a time. Then, feelings in reaction – loss, sadness, regret.

It all silenced itself again at the sound of an echoing voice – a man’s voice, as if muffled through the adjoined wall between two rooms. She wanted to go towards it, having a warm sensation paired with its sound. There as no body to touch or move, just what she perceived to guide her in this space and time.

Then, as if a vacuum effect went into motion, she felt a rush of energy consume her. It all gathered behind her eyes, and at once, her eyelids shot open. When they did, her slightly distorted vision gave way to the sight of a tall, carved ceiling, Orleisian in décor style. Air reached into her chest and she felt the sensation of breathing again.

So, was that truly it? Did she dodge death’s grip one more time?

“There you are. I thought you had wandered too far.”

Her bones quaked with adrenaline at the sound of a voice she hadn’t heard in what seemed an entire lifetime. The voice she had to sit with herself and actively try to recall, before it was lost to her forever. The voice of someone who knew her before she had even known herself for who she could be.

“A-Antony,” she thought to herself, her throat sore and cracking with dryness that prevented her from speaking outright. She used every sore bit of energy she had to turn her head towards her left bedside.

To Read The Full Chapter on Ao3, Click Here!

[veridium]

For Theia and Josie~ 2, 3, 4, 13, 22, 24, 26, aaannnddd 29

Friend you are the best

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

Lol both have a tendency to do so, but to be fair Theia was the first to sleep in Josephine’s lap (AND I CAN CITE IT TO THE VERY CHAPTER). Theia plays big spoon but she’s secretly a teeny spork. 

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

Theia walks around half-naked FOR SURE. Though, her body confidence takes a hit after she loses her arm – her body accrued a lot of battle scars already from her time in the Inquisition, so seeing herself exposed proves more difficult. But, in terms of personality, she would definitely be the more apt one, and Josephine would be the one to remind her of her responsibility to decorum and presentation (with kindness and compassion, of course).

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

Theia tells Josephine not to overwork herself and her mind after hours, but she most definitely does. I think it depends on the given workload of the week, but during the Inquisition days Josephine is most certainly the predominant night owl. I think it’s also exacerbated when she becomes protective of Theia because of her night terrors. 

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

Theia is definitely the spontaneous gift-giver, and likes to find small or sentimental reasons to do so. She doesn’t do it every day, but when she does it’s very sweet and thoughtful. Her favorite thing is to prove that she did listen or remember a detail/quirk Josephine said in passing, or to herself. 

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

Theia would be the pun queen, if she wasn’t so egotistical about her clever sense of humor. She likes to peacock her intelligence via her humor, so it would be a bit too silly in her view to rely on puns (lol can’t relate). But, if it were down to the two of them, she would be the one to make the pun joke and Josephine would be the one to smile and feign endearment time after time because dammit she just loves her so much but why is she like this.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

Oh, Theia would be the giver of the piggyback rides until the day. she. dies. Josephine, tired and without hope of going on? Not on Theia Trevelyan aka chaotic lesbian energy queen’s watch. 

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

Aw, this is such a sweet Modern AU snapshot. I think Josephine would, simply because she would want to send it to Leliana and be like “lol see I told you she sleeps with her mouth open! #snorequeen” 

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

Oh, once again, Theia most ardently. She is wrapped around her woman’s finger, even when she is a ginormous sarcasshole. :)

Thank you for asking, again! Love and light.

[veridium]

2 & 8 for their x josie

Thank you for asking, sweet anon!

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

Josephine: “Theia is an exquisite woman, who’s determination and courage are beyond compare; she rises to the challenges of her life, and I admire her for it.”

Theia: “She is the singular proof that even in this most disenchanting life that there is such a thing as being capable, powerful, and kind.”

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Originally, Theia was very intimidated and in awe of how capable and dedicated Josephine was to her role as Ambassador. She emulated her a lot since she hadn’t really found her voice and prowess as a leader. So, to see a woman in similar age to her be so competent and wise was daunting, especially when she found she had an attraction to her. 

For Josephine, her first impression was one of curiosity. She saw the rawness of Theia’s character, and the prelude to her growth as Inquisitor within her propensity for selflessness and integrity. She was endlessly fascinated and at the same time, endeared by the traces of Theia’s innermost personality that would leak out ever so often: her sarcasm, her cleverness, and her intellect. She wanted to know more, for sure. 

Send me an OTP ask!

[veridium]

18. What would be their love motto? (For a ship of your choice)

Hm! I love this question a whole lot. Since it is rather succinct, I will do both my main pairings:

Olivia x Cassandra: “Not Even Death Can Take Me Away From You.” (they echo this in their fics so that is why I think of it as their motto)

Theia x Josephine: “You and All Your Glory Are Never Lost to Me.”

Send me an OTP ask!

[veridium]

Short: Welcome Back Inquisitor

Author’s Note: I want to write these little tender moments wherein my romantic pairings reunite after one of them returns from missions, etc. so I will be posting them here. It’s a neat way to see a side of each relationship. Just a short exercise for me to get into writing longer stuff.

Summary: The Inquisitor has returned to Skyhold after another perilous mission to The Exalted Plains in order to secure a bridge reconstruction plan and return injured personnel. Word has been communicated to Skyhold of their ordeals with dark spawn, the remnants of the Civil War, and of course, demons. Nonetheless, seeing one person again in particular reinvigorates her. 

Characters: Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan, Ambassador Josephine Montilyet (#Theiaphine)

--

The road back to Skyhold had been an aggravated journey -- making the trek all the way back simply to execute plans for a bridge reconstruction, and to “resupply” wore on the Inquisitor’s patience. Still, seeing her troops’ faces when they finally made their way to the gates -- the relief and readiness in their expressions -- gave her some solace. And, admittedly, weeks in the Plains with nothing but letters from Josephine was as melancholic as always. 

Arriving in the courtyard, like she had done many times now, Theia resisted the urge to feel the endearment of being home. Skyhold was just as much a holding of the land around it as it was the Inquisition -- in many ways it felt like they were merely under its patronage and mercy, rather than being owners or occupiers. Still, the familiarity of it was a blessing after so many days abroad. 

Lowering her traveling hood, Theia patted her horse on the side of its neck, appreciative of the relatively smooth ride home. Dismounting swiftly, and handing off her horse to one of the stable staff, she felt the ache in her muscles as she made her way up the stairs. People were hugging and patting each other on the shoulders as friends, lovers, and comrades reunited. Infirmary staff gathered around the few injured souls they had brought back with them, going swiftly to work. 

Theia took one look behind her, overseeing the stoic commotion. A part of her would always want to ensure that things were being taken care of and people were being attended to. It gave her a significant comfort that would otherwise go unrested if she simply dove into her own concerns. 

Content with the scene, she grinned to herself and continued her way onwards and upwards. She tried to keep her heart from leaping out of its place in her chest as she anticipated who would be awaiting her at the stop of the second flight of steps. The face she always looked to when she crossed the threshold of the gates; the face she saw smiling with pride and relief when she did so just minutes ago. 

Rounding the corner and walking up the stone steps, she finally let herself look up and soak in the moment. The tense and tired breath in her chest released herself as, inch my inch, she was able to see the exquisite woman she dreamt about in her waking and slumbering hours. For, there she was, Ambassador Montilyet: standing without her clipboard, for such things were unnecessary in these particular greetings. Her hands were holding each other in front of her waist, her eyes keen on her approaching company. 

It was the same feeling of butterflies and contained ecstasy every time: decorum and a kind face covering up the celebration in her heart that Theia was returning in one piece. 

The Inquisitor’s heavy steps finally brought her to the top, on the stone plateau connecting to the stairway which would take them to the great hall. 

“Inquisitor,” Josephine smiled, bowing her head as she was finally able to see her face-to-face at eye level. She gave her a once-over: taking in her dark leather traveling armor, the scarf wrapped cozily around her neck in case she would have to protect her face from sand, rain, or snow. Her weathered and worn riding gloves encasing her hands at her sides. Her pale face with dark circles under her purple, effervescent eyes. Her white hair tucked up in a bun. 

It never got old, not once. 

Theia placed her hands on her hips, an endearing smile cracking on her lips. 

“Ambassador,” she said knowingly, being playful with the formalities. 

“I trust you have had a safe and efficient journey,” Josephine replied, taking a step closer. 

“Yes, it was quite...stimulating,” Theia sighed lightly, “but I am relieved to be in a more captivating environment now.”

Josephine felt her stomach flip. The tone Theia had in her voice when she embarked on wordplay was irresistible, especially after weeks of not hearing it in person and having to imagine it via her language in letters. 

“Surely, Skyhold does not compare to the vast countryside between here and the Exalted Plains,” Josephine’s chin tilted, her brow furrowing in a clever expression. Theia smirked, sliding off her riding gloves one by one and stretching out her right hand’s fingers and wrist. Josephine’s eyes watched as the hands she had come to know and crave so much revealed themselves. Her lips slightly parted as she did so.

“Josephine, I was not referring to the Fortress,” Theia’s voice said low. Then, the Inquisitor capitalized on her enticing charm. Stepping closer and remedying the problem of distance between them, she tossed the gloves to the floor and reached for Josephine’s waist. She pulled her in with a strong yet careful grip, causing the Ambassador to gasp softly at the audacity. 

“Inquisitor!” she said in a hushed tone, trying not to draw more attention to the maneuver from below. Everyone could see the platform they were on, and any bodacious activity would surely garner an audience. 

Hearing her title as her lips began closing in on Josephine’s, Theia chuckled under her breath. Her eyes flickered between her lips and her eyes, engrossed in both aspects of her features as well as everything in between. 

“Josephine,” she breathed, one hand taking hold of the side of her gorgeous face. Their noses and foreheads gently touched as Josephine began to melt in her lover’s hold. Her eyes said remember decorum, but her body said toss it out the nearest window. 

Her eyelids fluttered at the sound of her name, and she exhaled with a smile. “Theia,” she whispered in return. 

The Inquisitor leaned into her more, finally receiving the greeting she had been longing for the entire time. Manners and etiquette be damned. Smiling broadly, Theia finished off her agenda with a passionately devout kiss. It wasn’t the most lustful, but it was consumed in love that was aching and reverent. Josephine kissed back, emboldened and liberated in one moment to be the woman who had been waiting for her lover to be back in her arms, flesh and bone, since the moment she left. 

They kissed as if time stopped existing. They kissed like the war was another lifetime. Josephine’s arms wrapping around Theia’s neck as her back arched into her tightening hold. Theia’s protective grip on her woman, the only woman who could ever exist for her. 

The audience could be the whole Capitol of Val Royeaux, and not a single face or opinion would count. 

The moment of reverie passed, and when at last Theia broke her lips away from the embrace, she kept her eyes closed and her forehead to Josephine’s. 

“I missed you with every inch of my soul,” she whispered, hands moving higher up Josephine’s back. Inhaling a most ravenous and lucid breath, her lungs were filled with the aura of her perfume and oils that she had craved every night of sleeping alone, every aching evening nursing wounds and reading reports. 

The Ambassador blushed, her heart skipping beats as if they were treading on rocks across a river. 

“And I missed you with every ounce of air in my chest, mi amor,” she whispered back. Josephine dared to love perhaps the only woman in all of Thedas who felt like a doom to do so. She did it without questioning: she was alive, and for a split minute in time, she was hers before being the world’s again. 

In the open air, no doors or walls to fortify their defense, they forged the sanctity of their moment like all great pairs of lovers do: unapologetically, and with enough raw intention to take your breath away. 

[veridium]

Prompt: Theia Sacrifices Herself in the Fade

I received this VERY intriguing prompt from @nachtigall7 and wanted to write something up to depict it! So here is the prompt:

“What would happen if the Inquisitor stayed behind in the fade to fight the Nightmare demon and saved both the Warden and Hawke? What is your opinion on this? Could she survive the fade and the Nightmare?”

The path had been arduous and dank, but at last, they had seen their journey through even past the clutches of the fear demon and towards the rift that would return them to their world.

Sweating and heaving air in and out of her lungs, Inquisitor Trevelyan began the dead sprint along with her allies, seeing most of them make it through the rift sent a singe of relief down her spine. Good, perhaps Varric was wrong, some heroes can survive.

Then, the ground rumbled with a sinister energy that hungered to feed.

As she beckoned Hawke and Stroud to follow her, their faces of horror and caution compelled her to turn and see what stopped them in their tracks. It was the massive Nightmare creature the Divine spirit had managed to fend off long enough for them to tackle the Fear Demon alone. It had obviously recovered from the sundering, and now, its limbs curled and struck the ground with a vengeance. 

[KEEP READING BELOW]

Her arms fanned out at her sides as she tried to remain on her feet amidst the shaking. She stammered back to Hawke’s side, Stroud not far away.

“We need to clear a path! It will surely devour us all if we cannot find a way around!” Stroud yelled, instinctively gripping at his sword.

Theia tried her best to level her labored breathing as the problem presented itself before them, with time sprinting faster than they every could.

“I will do it! I’ll cover you!” Hawke replied, her hand reaching for her staff. 

“Hawke, no!” Theia looked back over her shoulder, her brow furrowing.

“Inquisitor, Corypheus is my mistake. Let me make up for an error that never should have happened!” Hawke insisted, beads of sweat falling down her forehead and down her temples.

“No, let me do it. A Grey Warden must avenge the wrongs we have done to Thedas. It is our duty to sacrifice,” Stroud came closer, unsheathing his sword. 

Theia’s mind became a storm of emotions and thoughts. They had made it this far with everyone relatively unscathed, and now at this last moment, a life would be lost. She remembered the conversations, the meaning in both the lives of Stroud and Hawke, who now stood at her side, ready to end their lives for her cause. It was overwhelming. The adrenaline coursing through her veins, the anchor responding to the insurgence by humming in her palm’s skin. She felt an unabated pang of remorse and sorrow.

“Both of you go. I will cover.” She said sternly, pulling her staff off of her shoulder and holding it at her side, ready for combat.

“You can’t be serious, Inquisitor! You are needed!” Hawke came closer so as to make direct eye contact, but everything in Theia’s eyes told of a woman convinced of her own demise.

“I refuse to let you die, Inquisitor. This is madness,” Stroud joined in.

“Both of you are needed and have been needed before I ever existed to Thedas. The Inquisition can always find a leader to pull rank. We don’t have time to dispute, do not make me order both of you!” she grit her teeth as she yelled, tapping her staff with her thumb, beginning its humming of magical potential. 

Hawke’s eyes flickered to the light emanating from the Inquisitor’s staff, and her chest was hollowed by the sense of dread.

“Inquisitor...it’s...it’s been an honor,” she said, roughly landing a hand on Theia’s shoulder. She looked at Stroud, who’s stubborn expression spoke of his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Stroud, let’s go. She says it’s an order,” Hawke squared her posture alongside him. The Warden’s brow raised in distress as he, too, punched his chest with a fist in reverance now.

“Inquisitor. We will not fail you,” he growled with an urgency. 

“I trust you. Hawke,” she said, turning turning to her fellow Mage. “Tell Cassandra she is right. Tell her to push on.”

“I will.”

“Then tell Josephine...tell her...” her voice choked as tears of mixed and fervent emotion welled in her eyes, a one falling from her eye and mixing with the sweat and blood. 

Hawke pursed her lips quickly, reaching a hand to grasp the back of Theia’s head. She resolutely put her forehead to the Inquisitor’s, lowering her eyes. She was giving a warrior’s comfort, a warrior’s goodbye, a warrior’s reassurance.

“I will, I swear,” she muttered low, before breaking away and taking one last look at her, nodding once.

Theia swallowed fast, and with one shallow breath, she composed herself. The monster that had lurked in her subconscious, that had preyed upon her weak moments but did not yet have the courage to approach, was taking her down. She was submitting to an end she had always anticipated. But, she was done watching others die for her, even if it was for an idea, a future bigger than herself. She was the one person who could put a stop to it. 

And so, she ran. Every muscle in her body seeming to oscillate with the energy of a woman protective beyond comprehension. She swung her staff like a pole spear, cutting and slicing decisively with her staff blade as her comrades ran at each side of her. They were getting there, the path was opening with each thrust and ball of fire she let go from her body. Her irises hummed and beat with colors as she let the magic in her body consume her senses and take hold of her.

She went to her knees, sliding forward as she twisted the staff around, taking off more grotesque limbs. The creature shrieked and squealed to the point of enveloping their senses.

The rift’s light gained fast and fleeting shadows, as from her periphery, she saw one, then two, figures leap forward and into its embrace. A second of assurance gave way to terror as the demon reached for her. She would not be an accommodating prey.

Theia roared with animosity and ferociousness that could outmatch any desert beast, any scourged demon, even ones that could eclipse the sun.

“You want a fight?!” she raged, standing as upright as she could to her feet, and dropping her staff to the ground. Then, clutching the air with her fingers, she summoned a most unholy mass of electricity in her palms. Another growl reverberated in her chest as she compelled the anchor’s magic to combine with the static in her left palm. It had not done so before, needing to be convinced like an autonomous will. But, in this moment, in this time of staring death in the maul and bearing her teeth right back, she bent it into subservience for one moment.

The electric currents glowed green and purple now. This surge could consume her body, obliterate her flesh and bone like dust. That is why she hesitated to push herself. But, if she was meant to fall now, might as well cause an elemental rupture in the Fade to do it.

She finally amassed enough charge in her body, so much so that her senses seem to want to break free from her skin. She felt as though her body, her bones and ligaments, were cracking like stone facades in a temple torn asunder. In that moment, her body echoed the destruction of all the Temples and sacred sites Corypheus left in his wake. She was becoming a ruin.

Now a doomed beacon, she relented her body, heralding the sacrifice with one last mouthful of resistance.

She screamed an un-Earthly scream, sending her arms over her head. The reach of her arms extended with violent branches of electric energy, intermingled with the Anchor’s aggression. The sound of her voice thundered like a storm downpour. Only when the creature’s wailing erupted from its depths did her sound get overpowered.

The creature became paralyzed as its skin and extremities became enveloped in merciless static, encompassing every inch of its being. Then, waves of green light, like the patterns of the Frostback night sky lights, coursed through. The creature had an endless rage, and endless, fearful flood of roaring.

Theia’s eyes were now all purple, all light, and all thirst for death. Her body was shaking, but she had concentrated the instability to her hips as they shifted and rotated under the weight of her casting. In her mind’s eye she could at first see only blinding light, nothing but vastness. 

Then, the power started to seek any means of satiation and sustenance it could. It came for her memories, the ones that fed her emotions and her will to live --

Her childhood, the feeling of injustice that she could not yet name. Her life in the Circle, relying on few confidants and friends who knew her better than she knew herself in those intemperate times. The days of being on the road, never knowing when she would become the next kill for fun or ravaged woman at the hands of a man’s sin. Then, the Conclave, and the early days in Haven; finding people who looked at her with hope, with respect. Those adversaries who became allies, who then became friends.

Their travels, their triumphs. The victories that came from the clutches of impossibility.

Her grasp of the sword grip, and the reflection of everyone’s faces as they saw their Inquisitor for the first time.

The feeling of mountain air against the skin of her back.

The smell of her onyx black hair after a night of sweat and incense burning.

A moment of chaotic concert between the Inquisitor’s and the demon’s voices, both fighting off the clutches of death. Then, a snap, as if a hand had rolled over a reservoir of friction and made it snap.

Then, darkness.

--

The air that filled the Fortress courtyard was thick with sweat, blood, and magic. The onslaught of demons felt indominable. So, when the rift broke open further to allow the bodies of Hawke and Stroud to jump forth, everyone examined the sight in their periphery. Quickly, Hawke gathered herself and stood to her feet, looking back and hoping that the Inquisitor would manage to close the rift. 

Then, screaming echoed through, and it was not obvious as to who it came from. The Rift began to collapse on itself, but not in the way it normally did when the Inquisitor sought to close it. It was almost as if is was responding to a nearby explosion of power, and being consumed by default. It shrunk and ached, and then, snapped like a fragile neck bone.

The demons collapsed around them, victims of a shockwave of energy. 

“Hawke! Where is the Inquisitor?!” Cassandra ran to her side, wondering why the Fade rift would close without her there.

Hawke coughed up the lingering blood and dried spit in her throat. 

“She...she...” she breathed, hunching over and putting her hands on her knees to keep herself somewhat upright.

Cassandra felt the air quiet now, and the weight of the silence proved more frightening than the concert of screams and sword thrusts.

“No...she could not have...” she muttered, taking a step back in disbelief.

“I’m sorry. We couldn’t...we couldn’t tell her otherwise,” Stroud, now, managing to just barely sheath his sword. His voice made Hawke’s heart sink further into her stomach.

Cassandra was brimming with righteous anger and sorrow, and as she grit her teeth, all she could hear was the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

“Seeker!” a voice called from behind. It was Solas, armor bloodied and staff humming with expendable energy as he approached with an urgent march in his step.

She did not reply. To do so would cause another eruption of devastating energy.

“Seeker, I have felt a reckoning emotion that came from the rift closing itself. The rift was not closed directly, it gave into a massive expelling of energy. If it was her, she could still yet survive. I have not seen such a phenomena happen, but, if she gave into her magic, she could have been salvaged by it.”

Cassandra snapped out of it, hearing a hopefulness in Solas’s erudite voice.

“How can we know? And how do we rescue her if she is alive?”

“We wait. I will keep attention to the energies I feel from spirits who will wish to know what released such a shock-wave.”

“If she used her body as a lightening rod, would it make sense for her to be alive after that?” Dorian’s voice now echoed from several yards back. He had listened in, his heart beating fast with anxiety. His friend, his dear friend. If he had only stayed behind and convinced her out of her stupidity.

“I do not yet know. However, considering her body has maintained the power of the anchor, which seeks to survive as well, perhaps she has defied the rules once more. We must regroup, and wait.”

The Seeker couldn’t help but be unsatisfied at the thought of sitting on her hands and waiting for her friend, who was flesh and blood, to make her survival known. It had been a dance she had done one-too-many times in this short span of time, but now, the stakes were raised. She wasn’t simply in the middle of no where, or under a mountain of ice and snow. She was in the Fade, physically so. Trapped if she was alive, lost forever if she wasn’t.

“We need to find the closest fade rift, and we need to rescue her,” Cassandra growled, gripping angrily onto her sword, and stomping off through the crowd.

If there was a way, she would do as Theia always teased her for: she would ram whatever armored limb she had against the obstacle until she could move forward. Her friend, her ally, her comrade, deserved at least that.

[veridium]

While the recovery process has been arduous, Inquisitor Trevelyan is ready to disembark and return to her primary responsibility of battle and conquest for the Inquisition’s side. One night stands between her and her departure, and one final wish of her love creates a disturbance in the short-lived respite she has enjoyed. It is back to reality, and perhaps not all of what helped her recover was meant to survive, after all.

The eve had finally arrived: tomorrow morning, the recovered Inquisitor would return to the front in Emprise du Lion to help finish what the Inquisition started. The Iron Bull and his Chargers had done well to maintain their holds and even put pressure on the quarry stronghold, but now, the game was going to be on again.

Her scar still looked sort of beastly, but it was dormant for the most part. The soreness in her side had largely subsided save for a weary ache when she overworked her abdomen in rehabilitation training. The surgeon warned that the blade had cut through some of the muscle, and would take time to rebuild its strength and durability. If she could manage, she would stretch out at the end of her days before going to sleep.

Theia stood in the Courtyard, observing the last bit of packing for their early morning departure. The lucid evening was giving way to opaque night, but the light fringe of blues on the horizon left them with some light to finish up under. Theia wore her rest clothes, a step up from a top made of bandage and pants that felt like a pelt. For all who witnessed her, she looked completely back to normal.

“Inquisitor,” Cassandra approached, “It seems that we are all set for the morning. The dinner will begin soon. I will not be there, however, as I wish to get some rest.”

Theia grinned and nodded back to her ally, who stood at her left side now. “Understandable. I have sent you all across this countryside defending my broken ass,” she teased.

“Hopefully, this time I will not have to bring you back in two pieces.”

Theia chuckled and waved her away playfully. “Don’t tempt me, Seeker, I have a penchant for trouble.”

Another woman approached, coming to stand on the Inquisitor’s right side. Varric called her Ruffles, Leliana called her Josie, but for the last two weeks, Theia had been fighting every urge to refer to her as the woman she was falling deeply in love with.

“Inquisitor, I see you are prepared for the morning’s events,” Josephine greeted, leaning her head forward and nodding at Seeker Cassandra with warmth.

Theia looked down and eyed the two pieces of parchment that had been in her hands, reporting stock levels of supplies, rations, and weapons. “Yes, at last, back to business. Something tells me the crew up there will be more than willing to let me return to my position at the front line.”

That made Cassandra smirk. “Lady Montilyet, Inquisitor, I will retire. We shall see each other in the morning, Your Worship.” Then, a withdraw back up the courtyard stairs. With her exit, Josephine inched towards Theia’s side a little closer.

For the past couple weeks, the Ladies Ambassador and Inquisitor scarcely spent private time apart from one another. Indeed, most nights Josephine spent in Theia’s room, and simply woke early enough to steal away into her own bedroom to prepare for the day. Those early morning goodbyes were evergreen in their bittersweetness, but the day would brighten up as they were able to work together, pushing for the end of the day when the night would take hold of the sky and they would take hold of each other. And while they had not yet crossed the threshold into sexual intimacy per se, the nights they spent together were soaked down to the bone with adoration, intimacy, and vulnerability. Hours of conversation, storytelling until the light breaths of sleep could be heard from the other’s chest, ravenous embraces in the temperamental firelight.

Josephine had quickly become Theia’s closest confidant of her emotions, and had gained access to many sides of the Inquisitor that had remained shut away from prying eyes and mouths. People began to take to heart the assumption that wherever Lady Trevelyan was, Lady Montilyet was not far away, and vice versa. Surprisingly, the question of just how many of the Inquisitor’s goings-on were that important to diplomacy was not brought up as much as it could have. Perhaps no one thought to dare either of the formidable women’s tempers with such a critique.

But, back to the conversation at hand.

“Who is all going with you this time?” Josephine asked, watching the men pack.

“Dorian and Cassandra only, well, and some troop reinforcement of course. We have Warden Blackwall and Bull awaiting us. I would just bring Cassandra, but I need Dorian to help with rehabilitation training and to be my back-up if I falter.” Theia sounded so professional, so authoritative, even as she admitted to her weaknesses. Her and Dorian had been doing their forest adventures as soon as she was able to reliably wield a staff without buckling over, and he had been helping her recover her dexterity when casting and using a staff as a bladed weapon. Some days were more arduous than others, and there were multiple nights where Theia would return with a limp or extra soreness. But, it made her stronger, and she knew she would have to be rough on herself in order to prepare for the lethalness of the Emprise du Lion’s grasp once more.

“I understand. I have half a heart to warn Dorian that if he lets anything happen to you, I will have all of his garments re-sown in that ghastly plaidweave.” Josephine’s irreverence towards Dorian was part impatience with his vanity, and also an ironic fondness. He was Theia’s close confidant, and he had been there when she needed him most. Though, there were times when he would run his mouth, and Josephine would feel like banging her head against her desk, wondering why Theia couldn’t pick better friends.

Theia laughed under her breath. “He would adore that, I’m sure. You know he insists that you secretly love him and are using me as only a coddled stepping stone on the way to your true paramore?”

“Oh, please.”

“Tell me once and tell me honestly, my love, I will forgive you--”

“Theia!”

The Inquisitor couldn’t help but let a jubilant laughter erupt from her chest as she folded her stock papers and slid them under her belt. “My love, the sooner you grow a patience for sarcasm, the better for your health.” Theia snuck a caressing hand on Josephine’s cheek, discrete and easily missed if you blinked. A small token of sweetness before turning towards the stairs.

Josephine sighed heavily and followed after her. “The sooner you have respect for my worries, the better for your health. Corypheus isn’t the only temper you should take caution with.”

“Oh, a threat, Lady Montilyet? In my sanctum of Andraste?”

“Andraste would understand the consequences of one’s trifling.”

“Well then, let me know what she would wish my punishment to be,” as soon as they had the cover of the stone stairs on the second level of the courtyard, Theia reached a desirous hand around Josephine’s waist and pulled her close, backing herself up against the stone walling and her Love up against her.

Josephine gasped like a true lady, aghast at the intention but aroused at the boldness. Her hands went up against Theia’s chest, feet trying to not trip. Their mouths came within an inch of one another, and Josephine couldn’t help but grin. Her eyes couldn’t evade the touch of sadness in them.

“She would say you did not have to go.”

Theia eyed her longingly, surprised even with her audacious move that the Ambassador would admit such a thing in the open air of the fortress.

“Josephine,” Theia comforted, a hand moving upwards and adjusting a fallen strand of Josephine’s curls. “I will be careful. I promise. You know me, I always come back from a fight.”

“Yes, but for how long? You came so close this time…”

“I was healed and recovered. Cassandra brought me back herself. I have so many allies around me at any given time. I wish you would have come out to watch me rehab train, you would feel so much better having seen me back on my two feet.”

“Training practice and the thick of battle are two different things, my Darling.”

Theia let air release from her lungs. Thoughtfully, she pursed her lips, her forehead leaning into Josephine’s. “I don’t know what you want from me. I must go. You are one of my advisors, you help make all of this possible. You act as if I want to leave you,” she swallowed with nervousness.

Josephine could see her emotions were muddying the waters for them in this moment. She had tested the air with her sentimentality and had seen just how stressful it could be. It made her stomach turn with anxiety. Could they sustain this? The leaving and going, with the emotions of lovers, and the diligent duty of allies?

“I am sorry. I know you have to do this. I have moments of shortsidedness.” Josephine curtailed her admonitions for now. Pulling away from Theia, but locking a hand with hers, she beckoned them to keep walking.

Theia grinned sorely. As they approached the second round of stairs, stairs she now walked without pain again, she thought of a way to lighten the mood. Maybe now she would ask.

“There is something you could do that would bring me great honor and happiness. It’s small, but, that only means less work on your part.”

“Hm? And what, exactly, is that?”

“At the banquet tonight, enter the hall with me, at my side.”

Josephine stopped in her tracks, and eyebrow raising as she looked her lover in the eyes. “You…you cannot be seriously suggesting that?”

Theia shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Enter at your side…like a mistress of your house?” Josephine stepped back, a tone of temper in her voice.

Theia immediately felt the shift in mood, and trying to retain some semblance of control, she gripped onto Josephine’s enjoined hand and guided her energetically to a more sequestered corner of the upper courtyard, by the door to the Gardens.

When they arrived at their destination, Theia turned and faced her.

“Josephine, I did not mean it like that.”

Lady Montilyet’s eyes narrowed. “Then how? Is this really how you want this to be?”

“I am confused as to what you mean, but, if you’re referring to you being at my side and everyone respecting it as such, then, yes?”

“Gah!” Josephine turned around and paced with frustration. Theia was even more confused now. It was like oils slipping out of her hands and her trying feverishly to re-collect it into a bottle.

“You spent your early childhood in the walls of a noble house. Tell me, did you ever remember banquets where the man would enter with a woman at his side?” Josephine’s voice became her curt and exacting side.

“Um, yes. A few.”

“And on how many occasions was that woman their wife?”

Theia shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “I don’t know, I was a child? I could not ascertain—“

“No worry, I can give an adequate estimate. Hardly or none.”

Theia sighed with exasperation. “So, your point is that you’d be like a mistress…to…an unmarried woman?”

“Oh, would you just listen!”

“I am listening, I suppose I’m just dumb?”

Josephine turned to face her, a moment of tense silence consuming the air around them, as she warned herself in her mind to keep her voice low.

“Theia, you forget that I have my own reputation to maintain. I am the Chief Diplomat of the Inquisition. I am the eldest of a noble family. I am an accomplished politician. Everyone attending that banquet tonight will greet me, even with all of my accolades, and you know what they will see? A woman entranced by the shadow of another, enveloped in intrigue and idle lust.”

Bashful anger began to brew in Theia’s chest. “You’d function your life around the thoughts of gossip-starved people than what would make you happy?”

“Parading around Skyhold as your mistress would make me anything but happy.”

“I never asked you to parade, only that you would walk into a damn dinner with me. You do it with Leliana and Cullen all the time!”

“Yes, as the Council, it is so different a situation. That is hardly comparable to an implication that I am now the Mistress of the Inquisition.”

Theia went silent, caught off guard by that specific string of words. She had clearly let the intimacy and quietness of their last two weeks cloud her judgement, but she never meant to disrespect or degrade Josephine’s position. Perhaps she had spent time in a noble home as a small child, but all the knowledge she had of goings-on in the lap of luxury came from stories and books in the Circle. The idea of entering a gilded and warm dining hall with the woman she adored and respected by her side, like the heroes in heroines in her story, touched her. But what those stories did not infer was the political and diplomatic affairs of two women who had dedicated their lives to a Holy War.

“Josephine, I know I haven’t opened up much about my past or my time in the Circle, but, you should know that I mean it when I say my noble birth was about the most “noble” aspect of my life. I was not a child that wanted for anything, that is for sure and for certain. But the minute I became myself, I was ostracized. They sent me to the Circle as soon as they could, and there I stayed, until the rebellion when I was on the run and at the mercy of wherever we could go and remain safe for a night or two. The outside world and the gilded walls I thought I was supposed to belong in were closed off from me. So, forgive me if I am not well-versed in the elusive underpinnings of walking into a fortress banquet hall with the one person I care about most.”

Theia put her hands on her hips and stepped to the side, eyeing the floor, trying not to grind her jaw into dust.

Josephine’s postured had softened, but the temper in her was still thriving. As much as she longed to understand Theia’s perspective, she saw the bigger picture in play, and she could not concede her obligations for the imagination of anyone.

“Theia, you must remember that not all situations will take care with the truth of your life. It is my foremost responsibility to advise you in these circumstances and I will happily do so for as long as you wish me to. But this includes saying no when you so desperately wish me to say yes.”

“So your true wish after all is to steer me in the right direction, and not be with me because you sincerely wish to.”

“You would say that to me after all I have done, after all I have endured in the wake of your endangerment?” Josephine’s voice took a higher, more emotional pitch. Her voice cracking with emotion.

“If that was so hard, surely being seen with me in a formal and non-flippant fashion would be effortless.”

“It is my responsibility to avoid such errors in decorum, Inquisitor. I cannot oblige if I am to remain true to that.”

“Yes, thank you. I will watch my mouth from now on then, to be sure.”

With that, Theia bowed her head with a burdened stoicism. “I shall see you at the banquet, Lady Ambassador.” The Inquisitor then walked away with a brisk step towards the stairs.

“Theia! Ugh,” Josephine called out to her, but for naught. As she was left alone, the anxiety of the night filled Josephine’s body with dread.

She is leaving tomorrow, and that might have been our last conversation.

--

When Inquisitor Trevelyan entered the Great Hall, the banquet tables pushed together in the middle of the room all together so as to unite one table and one force of voices, she felt all eyes turn to her. She wore a simple grey set of a coat and slacks, similar to her resting clothes but with a tad more embellishment. As she came to her seat at the head of the table, she smiled broadly. The lines of people she adored – some more ferociously than others – greeted her with warmth in return.

“My friends, thank you for honoring me with this gathering. As you have known, I have spent quite some time having the audacity to be injured.” A rumble of chuckling reverberated through the room.

“But, alas, the Healers and surgeons are too good at what they do. And for that, I have welcomed them to dine with us tonight, to regale you in stories of my fallibility.” She picked up her chalice and held it out towards the subsection of faces to the left-hand side of the table, at the several personnel who had so wonderfully oversaw her recovery. Anya’s kind face being one of them.

Her eyes then returned to oversee the rest of the densely-packed table.

“We return to the front in the early dawn, but now, we enjoy each other’s company, and relish the life we’ve been given. And that is what I drink to tonight!” The room erupted in voices and people putting their lips to their drinks along with the Inquisitor. After all was said and done, she took her seat, and the feast was there for all to sink their teeth into.

Meat, fruit, and various other tastes had been plated and mouths chewed on both gossip and dinner like a feast before a battle. Theia made easy conversation with those seated closest to her: Vivienne and Dorian being among them. Cullen and Sister Leliana were paired together on the right-hand side, further towards the middle, strategically placed so as to pick up on anything and everything of importance. Lady Montilyet was seated on the left-hand side, betwixt the nobles, as was her specialty.

The imagery marked the farthest positioned the Inquisitor and the Ambassador had been, and for the longest, without engaging with one another so much as a nod or a wave, or a tacit smile.

“My friend, I am thrilled to be heading back into the snowy desolate hellscape the South has given such an illustrious name. Though, I will admit, you owe me at least several generous favors,” Dorian jested, chewing a bite of mean on the side of his mouth.

Theia smirked, sitting back fully in her chair. She had taken a break from eating, though her appetite had vanished an hour or so before she even sat down. “Dorian, I will be at your beck and call, every demon, every giant, you may use me as your shield.” Their party banter was fact becoming legend in the halls of Orlais. Surely, they would get numerous invitations to soirees and parties if they survived the war.

Theia would not favor his clever company, though, out of respect for the rest of her company. She titled her head in Vivienne’s direction and smiled. “Madame de Fer, my people are still scouting for the remaining Circle Tomes you told me about. When we have a general idea, I will secure them myself.”

“My dear, thank you. It will be most relieving to have custody of them again.”

Theia nodded reassuringly before reaching and trying to take another forkful of food. She knew she needed her strength for the morning, but every time she motioned for food, her stomach turned sour. The nerves rattling from her conflict with Josephine were gnawing at her. It was made worse every time she took a gander at Josephine’s seat, and saw her smiling and giggling with her textbook allure. The noblemen seated on either side of her were beguiled, pouring her wine for her, while she sweetly grinned in return.

It made her want to set their bogus masks and hates aflame, and it took a lot to make Theia crave pyro.

Leliana watched carefully as she caught the Inquisitor looking again in the Lady Ambassador’s direction with a look as if she had just ingested a sour gulp of wine.

“They have quarreled” she said in a hushed tone, leaning towards Cullen’s ear.

Cullen, robustly chewing a mouthful of food like any sensible soldier would, eyed Leliana through his periphery, the scoffed. “Leliana, you’re getting court intrigue in my peas, again,” he said low and sarcastic.

“Cullen, you’re always happier with food in front of you, why not look like it,” Leliana countered. “This effects the productivity of the Inquisition, much to your dismay. A distracted Diplomat means stressed negotiations. A distracted Inquisitor means a possibly dead Inquisitor. Take care.”

The Commander swallowed his bite and took another sip of wine to wash it down. “They are both adults. Perhaps this will embolden the Inquisitor to refocus on her responsibilities at hand.”

Leliana’s heart and chest stiffened with stubbornness. She knew all-too-well the consequences of arguments between two lovers cast into the thick of the Game and the Battlefield. She recalled a few times in her life with the Hero of Fereldan, and how a spat or fight turned into angry energy utilized in the thick of combat. Sometimes it would end in…very deep and apologetic embraces, and others, cold shoulders in the night. Either way, the situations always made her feel a pang of regret for losing focus on what mattered.

The sympathy in her bones that ached for Josephine, and by extension the Inquisitor, left a sorry taste in her mouth as she ate.

Theia once again ripped her eyes from the sight of Josephine hard at work with her words and mannerisms, and she decided there was no more room for food tonight. She took a deep breath, another gulp of wine, and looked at Dorian.

“My friend, I fear I should retire. You should feel free to as well, since you and I have the same plans tomorrow.”

“Me? Retire? Inquisitor, I should sooner die and be made a martyr in the Chantry! Go, be boring and sleep,” Dorian patted her on the shoulder, making her smile bittersweetly. Calmly, she rose to her feet, causing everyone to stop and turn their attention towards the tall figure of the Inquisitor.

“My friends, I am afraid it is time for me to follow in the footsteps of Seeker Pentaghast and prioritize my rest. I am sorry to be leaving such warm and rejuvenating company, but please, stay as long as you like, and do not get into too much trouble while I am away,” her words were tender-hearted, like her chest had been aching with sentimentalities all evening.

She did not look for too long, but if she did, she would have seen Josephine’s face sink from a face of charm to a face of concern. She did not let it stay that way for long, but the fact that she let it stay at all was telling for her friend, the Spymaster. They had quarreled, and it was not left on good terms.

Everyone mumbled and worded their goodbyes to the Inquisitor as she bowed her head in respect and sought her way out to her bed chambers for the evening. The dinner continued to run its course until late, and eventually, the Hall quieted and darkened.

--

Theia sat on the railing of the balcony, her feet over the edge and hovering over the 2-3 story drop, perhaps more, but she wasn’t going to see for herself. She wore a long-leeved night dress of dark ring velvet, one that hugged her body like armor, but twice as deadly to look at. She had wore it two separate nights while Josephine slept over, once she could wear more “high-maintenance” garments over her bandage. Josephine adored it, and could hardly keep her hands off of the smoothness and richness of Theia’s body wrapped up in the texture of luxurious velvet.

Perhaps, tonight, she wore it for herself, because the touch of Josephine’s hands and the smell of whatever body oils she used still lingered in its stitches.

“Inquisitor, if I may have a word,” Leliana’s voice broke through the quiet night like a nocturnal thief. Theia was surprised, but did not let it show in her body. She continued to gaze out at the mountains.

“Leliana, I did not even here you come in,” Theia greeted, her shoulders rolling back.

“I have my own entrance style, you know as well as I,” Leliana responded, coming out into the balcony, standing beside Theia’s seat on the railing.

“What is your concern, then? Another man going missing with a mission to stick me with a dinner knife?” Theia reminisced for a moment on the last time Leliana was in her bed chambers after hours, with a similar look of concern and nervousness.

Leliana smirked, hands behind her back as she looked out as well.

“Inquisitor, I watched you and Josephine tonight. You were not as engaged with each other as you have been these past weeks. Has something happened?” she went straight to the point, in typical Leliana fashion. Theia appreciated it, even when it felt like a punch to the gut, a body part that was a stressful one for her as of late.

“We were seated far away from each other, surely to skip over that many people just to have dinner banter would have been arbitrary for the both of us,” Theia tried to put up a front, but she knew Leliana already had her eyes and teeth waiting to get into the jugular of the circumstance. Perhaps this was just formality.

“Inquisitor, I know the face you made when you watched her mingle. It was not one of polite consideration, it was one of seething jealousy. Jealousy after a couple has differences and does not successfully put them to bed before night festivities. If I was still a Bard, it would have gone on the top of my report to my patron.”

“Leliana,” Theia said, flipping her legs around and hopping down from the railing, “There is so much for me to focus on right now than this, and I am not sure what you hoped to get out of me tonight, but, I beg for your mercy in this,” she peered at Leliana from her side, a face of sincere fatigue.

“What happened to make you two so estranged? Surely the meaning of this last night before your travels would make you want to cling even closer.”

“Leliana.”

“Inquisitor.”

Theia sighed and turned away, stepping towards the other side of the balcony, trying half-heartedly to get some space. Leliana watched her, knowing she was close, but also with the fact in mind that Theia would put up a fight. There were layers to this Inquisitor, many for the sake of self-preservation, but also ones for the sake of duty, of respect.

“Whatever you say, I only ask for honesty. Your truth will not break my respect for you, your dishonesty will,” Leliana advised, remaining where she stood, stalwart.

There was a silence, while Theia pondered her options. She knew Leliana would find out sooner or later what had transpired, whether it be from her mouth, Josephine’s, or the mouth of one of her people. Their argument was in a quiet corner, but not in a secured room. Surely it garnered someone’s attention.

Fine, then.

“I asked something of her that insulted her position. We could not see eye-to-eye on it, and I left it there.”

“What did you ask?” Leliana became concerned, as it she was about to hear something grotesque or cruel. A defensive and loyal friend through and through.

“I asked her to enter the banquet hall with me tonight, at my side. And she—“

“She declined because she does not wish to be diminished to the position of a leader’s mistress.”

Theia swallowed. “Yes, but, that was not my intention, because—“

“Because you were not familiar with such nuances, and genuinely wished for her to enter as your beloved equal. She could only see the ramifications on the big picture of it, and rebuked your sentimentalities, which in turn made you upset.”

“Leliana.”

“Inquisitor?”

“If you knew what had happened, why did you come to interrogate me?”

“I did not know what had happened, but I do know how to fill in blanks. I also know my friend and colleague extremely well.”

Theia folded her arms tightly and shifted her weight between her feet. “Well, then, what is it you wish to say?”

Leliana let the silence take the helm before she responded. Though her hood was covering most of her head and some of her face, Theia could still make out her lightly-colored, luminescent eyes as she scanned out at the sky and landscape. She still wasn’t sure if she was about to get told that it was “say sorry” or else, or if she was about to start crying. It was very obscure and uncharted territory between the Inquisitor and the Spymaster.

Finally, the verdict.

“I know I have kept the details of my past and life with the Hero of Fereldan to my chest, Inquisitor. Most of that has been for the sake of security and austerity. Some of it has been for my own, personal sake. However, when my experiences are useful, I put them to work. You have depended on me for that, no?”

Theia was caught of guard, not really sure how to read the situation. She nodded once, curious as to where this would all lead.

“She and I traveled together, even after the events of the Blight. It is weird, to have a life after an event such as that. You swear to yourself not to get attached to anything or anyone, and then you do. Everything in your mind’s eye is screaming at you to reject, to turn away. And then, she appears. She changes everything. Then she survives, and the disaster you planned for is evaded…for the time being. In the meantime, you must piece together a life, a purpose, again. Still, half of you is already grieving her existence in your life as you watch her assume her destiny.”

Leliana had approached the railing once more, looking away from Theia, who watched and listened like nothing could tear her away from witnessing such an insightful testimony from someone she revered and was terrified of all the same.

“Loving a woman who’s fate is to stare death and destruction in the face and smile is no easy task, Inquisitor. I know. And Josephine does not even have the luxury of walking at your side in the field, weapon unsheathed, with the ability to fool herself into thinking if something comes for you, she can be the wall between you and that danger. The motivation and aggression that takes hold when you walk that path is unlike any other. You feel invincible, and at the same time, ready to be obliterated like scrap metal. Yet, the reality is, you leave her every time you throw yourself into the lion’s den, and she waits as much as she works.”

“Leliana, I—“

“But she is still a woman of formidable power in her own right. She still has the weight of empires on her shoulders. She is one of your mouths, one which parlays and negotiates on your behalf, on all of our behalf. She does vital work for us, and is depended upon greatly. And when she is not our Diplomat, she is someone’s daughter, sister, heir. The future. Surely, she cannot part with that either, while her heart aches for you to be alive with every day that passes in your absence.”

Theia stayed quiet, fearing if she tried to interject once more, Leliana would fly away like one of her ravens.

“I know you meant well. It touches me, actually, thinking someone would want to adorn and hold my friend close in such a way. But, in order to understand her anger, you must also understand all she has to lose. If she fails, if she sells herself short, and then, if she loses you.”

A pause of silence. Theia finally felt like the floor had reopened to her.

“Leliana, I cannot even begin to describe the feelings I have for Josephine. Every time I do, my mind just overwhelms itself beyond reason. But, perhaps she has the right idea. I cannot bear to make her into some sort of lustful figure, but I also can’t deal with not being able to claim her. I do not mean to possess her as an object, but…I look at her, and I want to tell the entire world she is mine. Mine to love, mine to protect.”

“I know, but such things are not always possible. You have a choice, as we all do, when we choose to love women who have destinies greater than their own whims: do you still choose to love her when she cannot belong to you, or will you let her go, to fulfill that destiny alone?”

The words hit Theia’s heart with a pang of misery.

“I will say this, Inquisitor,” Leliana came closer, until only about a few feet separated them, “Fulfilling a great fate alone is hardly comparable to doing it with someone you know, who will always be at your side, ready to fight, ready to do what must be done. She will be regretful tonight, alone, in her room. I know her well enough to say that you leaving in the morning with this being your parting terms will rob her of sleep. Go to her, if your choice is to not back down.”

“It cannot be so easy.”

“Some things are so easy, we make the worst mistakes in overlooking their importance. I will retire now. Thank you for talking with me, Your Worship.”

Leliana bowed her head, her expression one of a friend warning another of her risky decisions. After all the time, Theia was awe-struck to be so confided in by a woman she believed beyond such interactions. It made her admiration and respect of Leliana grow ten-fold, and it was already amassed beyond measure.

Theia went and sat on the couch in front of the fire, anxiously staring at the burning wood. She could go to her, she could slam on the door, she could get on her knees and beg for Josephine to forgive her. She could swoop in, wrap her in her arms, and kiss her so deeply that her body would come undone. She could talk and talk and talk for hours with her, without tiring or growing uninterested. She could sift through and play with her beautiful hair, practice intricate braids and twists. She could read books of poetry and prose to her as she fell asleep on her lap. She could step forward, rip her night dress off her her body, and lay herself out for the taking. The world was at her feet, the feet of a remorseful lover.

Or, she could crawl into her own bed, leave the fire to run its course in the fireplace, leave the balcony doors open like she always did to breath in the air, and then, when she felt sleep draw near, she could blow out the remaining candle on her nightstand table.

And that is exactly what she did.

In the morning, she would awake, and encase her body in thick, metaled armor, while the night sky still embraced itself in darkness. She would comb her hair into a tight bun, without personality. She would pack her satchel with herbs and some meat jerky from the kitchen for the long road. She would stomp her heavy, equipped legs down the steps, and through the Great Hall, where bodies of sleepy troops would be flurrying around and preparing to leave. She would find Seeker Cassandra, who was ready and fiery as she always was, unburdened by the early morning fatigue that seemed to run amok with everyone else. She would greet her, before slipping on her riding gloves, stretching them out with her fingers.

She would look up at the façade of windows on the front of the Skyhold hall, wondering just how long it would be before she woke up. Or if she was awake still. Just for a moment, before a soldier would bring her ready horse to her to mount. When that would happen, she would mount unceremoniously, turn to the men taking control of the wagon, and nod once. A nod of “we’re moving out.” Then, she would take her place at the front of the wary processional, beside Cassandra on horseback. Dorian of course, in the supply wagon, sleeping amongst their weaponry. Always the best spot to be in, he would say.

She would be gone in what felt like a swooping, unforgiving morning wind. But, not before she had stolen away into Josephine’s empty office. Leaving a single note on a small piece of torn parchment, sealed by a small stamp of wax, crimson in color.

A note that said only one line that was everything and not nearly enough.

“My equal, my advisor, my friend, my confidant –

                          I am sorry.

                                                         T”