#theiaphine

[veridium]

So that Theia x Josephine ficlet was really really great and I just wanted to make sure you knew that. Not just bc it was hot but also bc it was written beautifully and I personally am in love with Josephine and I love your portrayal of her so honestly amazing job my friend

Anon! Omg! Thank you, this is so kind. I was hoping it would make people happy. I haven’t written for them in a hot minute but it was so nice to reintroduce myself to their dynamic and revisit. I love them so, so much. Thank you for reading!

[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]

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]

Fic Recap

Ya’ll, I’ve done that thing again where I post so many fics and honestly self-reblogs would be a nightmare. So, here’s a “mostly” end-of-the-week recap of what I have posted, for your accessible and reading pleasure.

Like My Writing? Tip me with a Ko-Fi!

Olivia x Cassandra

“A Little Tipsy”

Summary: Olivia is brought back to the Seeker’s quarters having enjoyed a little bit too much to drink. Adorable clumsiness ensues. Who knew a Mage as formidable and straight-laced as Olivia would prove the most delightful lightweight? 

“Swimming Lesson”

Summary: During their time serving in the Plains, Olivia comes face to face with one of the many dreaded talents she as a Circle Mage was never allowed to have: swimming. Cassandra’s offer to introduce her to the skill tests her still-developing trust in her.

“Scar Tissue”

Summary: A lovely, fluffy scene wherein Cassandra and Olivia are engaging in the trademark deep pillow talk during the initial days of their relationship in the Inquisition. 

“Broken Strings” *NSFW

Summary: Cassandra comes to see Olivia during a late night of what she thought to be work, but turns into the best kind of trap.

“Bread Bread With Me”

This is a flashback snapshot of when Olivia and Cassandra are still simply friends. Cassandra has returned from the mission to Caer Oswin, still reeling from all she has discovered of the Seekers as an organization. A visit from Olivia with a peace offering provides a most potent and sweet distraction.

“In The Shadow of the Sunburst Throne” Part ONE + Part TWO 

During the infancy of their relationship, Olivia reckons with the onslaught of sneers and gossip sent her way for daring to captivate the Seeker of all people with her machinations. Cassandra makes a rare moral concession and spies on her venting to Dagna, and gets a sobering look as just how conflicted Olivia has become with herself. 

“Tumbling Down”

Olivia brings Cassandra along during one of her favorite work tasks: harvesting herbs and plants from a nearby meadow. It’s the early stages of their relationship, and Cassandra finds the more time Olivia has to provoke her stoicism, the more surprises she has in store for her – like, for one, tumbling down a hillside voluntarily. 

“ALL THAT GLITTERS” Chapter 10

Summary: Olivia presides over the judgement of her nemesis, Minerva, and her lover. Cassandra makes her promise to a change of style in the way she usually takes on challenges to her character and fortitude. In the end, Olivia learns that she can be herself and be formidable at the same time – that both aspects of who she is comes from the same cloth

Theia x Josephine

“Scars and Imperfections”

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 x Olivia (Friendship)

“In The Line of Fire”

Another cold night camped in the Plains, but this time Theia has both the company of allies and an old friend to comfort her. Olivia comes to share her company by the fire, and the two reflect on how far they have come. 

Anyway, that’s all for the most part! I will probably post a couple short fluff pieces after this, but I’m really hip deep in a conference paper right now! So, enjoy friends! 

[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]

otp theme songs

Once again, it’s Veri here with another otp tag! This time from the lovely @caffeinated-mabari, and I gotta share the theme songs for my favorite pairings. I’m a lot more carefree about this one because I spend so much time listening to songs for my writing, so these all came to mind quickly :)

Cassandra x Olivia - “Work Song” by Hozier 

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her 

My baby never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me When I was kissing on my baby And she put her love down soft and sweet In the lowland plot I was free Heaven and hell were words to me

Theia x Josephine - “Come to Me” by The Goo Goo Dolls

Come to me my sweetest friend Can you feel my heart again I'll take you back where you belong And this will be our favorite song Come to me with secrets bare I'll love you more so don't be scared And when we're old and near the end We'll go home and start again

Naomi x Lace Harding - “Ever Enough” by Rocket to The Moon

No I'm never gonna leave you darling No I'm never gonna go regardless Everything inside of me, is leaving in your heartbeat Even when all the lights are fading Even then, if your hope was shaking I'm here holding on

I will always be yours for ever and and more For the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink till I'm drunk And all that I've done, is it ever enough

Veronica x Krem - “Love You Like That” by Dagny

You hate that I usually don't open up I know when I say it, it doesn't say enough With you close, I'm the happiest I ever was

I tend to avoid getting emotional I'm not shutting you out It's just the way I'm born But I see myself next to you until we're old

You know how they say you got the real thing When nothing else matters I love you like that...

If you have been wanting to do a tag, consider this one! Be sure to tag me in it if this inspires you to partake, I wanna see people’s songs! :)

[veridium]

“All That Glitters” Chapters Three + Four are Up!

Summary (starting with Ch. 3):  At last, the night of the Gambler's Ball is upon Olivia and the group. The need for expediency and precision make the beginning of the evening the most important part. Olivia struggles with the changes in her temperament which make her Courtesan persona harder to perform, but her tactics bear fruit. Cassandra finds her way to the Capitol, following after Olivia and going back on her word and her better judgement. Arriving at the Ball, she makes the decision to make herself known to the Inquisitor, her friend as much as her ally and leader. Theia is forced to choose whether she will go along with Cassandra's gambit. The interruption causes a vulnerability in the operation, and Cassandra is forced to reckon with the consequence of her being there against Olivia's wishes. 

Characters: Josephine, Theia, Vivienne, Olivia, Cassandra

--

Olivia couldn’t remember the last time she was ornamentally dressed and posh for a Soiree in Val Royeax off the top of her head anymore; such memories had become like daydreams of a former life, fleeting and sore to experience. Though, as she stood for her corset tightening in a guest suite of the Abernathy estate, she found the mannerisms and decorum of an Orleisian courtesan to be like riding a horse after a long while: the muscle memory and vernacular adaptation as quickly picked up as it had been put down.

“I suppose you remember the names and the links between them all,” Theia paced on the other side of the room, already dressed in her formal military coat and breeches. In one hand, she held parchment with the list and lines connecting all of the details she needed to rehearse, and Olivia was a most helpful partner for doing so whilst Josephine found herself busy tactfully schmoozing the Abernathy’s.

Olivia giggled as she huffed out some more air from her corset’s constriction. “Yes, Theia-bird. I needn’t the extra studying.”

“I just wanted to make sure, since these names all seem to bleed into one another. I think it would take five head’s worth of space to remember the nuances of them all.”

“How fitting then that it was the five of us who contrived this,” Olivia inhaled what she could, and at the sound of the final knot being tied, she smiled with relief. “The true question is whether or not you have them all down.”

“Surely not,” Theia smirked, grabbing for a chalice of wine that rested on a nearby end table. She swiftly took a sip, priming herself for an uncomfortable evening with too many masked faces to hope for a genuine human connection. “My job is to be someone they have conceptualized in their mind as the Herald of Andraste. It is just as much of a performance as what you are tasked with.”

Olivia smirked as the servant woman held her hand and helped her step into her gown for the night. In tandem with Josephine’s advice, Olivia went for something atypical of Orleisian style: something with the sleek sophistication of the Free Marches, but a bit of fanfare from Antivan fashions. The gown was figure-tight around her waist, chest, and hips, but flared out in a billowy A-line. On the back, a train of translucent fabric matching the black color of the gown hung from the top. Framing the back and sides of her shoulders was a crest of silver embellished lash that was stiff and dramatic, perfect for gaining attention. On her shoulders were two bell cap sleeves, plumed and puffed to perfection, made of black-dyed velveteen. They gave way to long, tight-fitting sleeves.

The neckline was straight, accenting her cleavage with a “less is more” theme. The outfit left her chest bare for jewels, and with the ornate but sleek updo of her hairstyle, she would show off any embellishment well. Adjusting her dress skirts, Olivia remained still as the servant woman kindly began painting her lips to match the opaque darkness of her gown. She was going to be a show-stopper, and they only had one shot at this.

Watching the finishing touches take place, Theia sighed and folded her arms. “Pity Cassandra couldn’t be here to see how devastating you can be when all polished like a seductress candlestick,” she remarked playfully.

Olivia raised a brow, keeping her lips still for the remainder of their painting. Once the woman withdrew, she smiled and said thank you, before turning her attention to her friend.

“If she did, I would consider the operation over before it began,” she walked her way over, adjusting and rolling her shoulders as she settled into the feel of her ensemble. “Besides, she trusts me enough to be able to be here and carry out my work, no matter what I must look like in the process.”

“I must say, I am impressed she was convinced so easily. Only one argument?”

“Theia, you give her little credit. After all, hasn’t Josephine had to watch you be dressed up and served on a silver platter before without intervening? I seem to recall an occasion in my own former Estate, wherein I had her looking at me from afar as if she could send daggers through my heart in recompense for indulging your theatrics.”

The Inquisitor cleared her throat, a hint of warm blush on her cheeks as she was reminded of a time that felt so far away, yet still sensitive to the touch. “Well, uh, yes, but that was due to a lot of outside factors in play.”

“Yes,” Olivia chuckled, “I know. Lady Josephine and I enjoy frequent breaks with tea.”

“Oh, wonderful, just what I need. More shared intelligence of my personal misadventures.”

To read the full Chapters, Click here!

[veridium]

So...question

Would y’all mind/like if I posted my playlists I made for all my current ships or is that..how they say..not cool?

[veridium]

“Comparing Notes”

Cassandra and Theia, ft. Josephine and Olivia

Summary: Some good friendly banter between the good friends as they watch their partners converse over Orleisian politics. I’ve always wanted to write this dynamic so here it goes!

--

The day was young, the dawn rising every warm body out of bed for another day of work at Skyhold. The Ambassador’s office didn’t need much time, though, to send for Olivia and Cassandra, sending an assistant directly to Cassandra’s quarters as soon as day broke. The two women were suspicious, but nevertheless showed up with open minds and sleepy faces: Cassandra, already in her day armor, and Olivia wearing one of her work dresses.When they arrived, Lady Josephine was sitting at her desk, her elbows on the table with her hands clasped in front of her face. She was grinning as Theia stood at her side, arms gathered behind her back. They looked fresh-faced for the early morning. 

“Ah, wonderful, you received my message!” Josephine leaned upright in her seat. “Come, come, I have much to discuss with the both of you.”

Olivia smiled, always easily moved by Josephine’s kind tact. “Of course, Ambassador, I would not have us keep you waiting.” At once, she approached her desk, standing directly in front of her as they embarked on the conversation at hand.

Cassandra, meanwhile, lagged behind, standing a couple yards from the desk. Something told her this was an Orleisian matter, and it made her hesitant to deliberate such a topic so early in the day. Seeing her reluctance to engage, Theia smirked, and meandered her way over to her friend’s side. She stood at her side facing her, and offered a piece meal smile. 

“If you think she has you up early with this lofty talk, you should have been there when we first awoke,” she played. Indeed, if Josephine Montilyet was anything, she was an early riser in both mind and body. It was one of the things Theia loved to be annoyed by. 

“I see,” Cassandra grinned slightly, “Well, Olivia will be much more proficient in this discourse than I. Why summon us both?” 

“She is sending you both to the Capitol for business. There are some suspicious activities going on with some aristocratic tradesmen, and Leliana suspects collusion with Venatori. That is why you will be going, to ensure Olivia’s protection whilst she manages the dirtier details.”

Cassandra’s brow furrowed. “Can you not send guards or a security detail?”

Theia’s lips parted, and she held her breath for a moment. It wasn’t that they couldn’t do so -- that was most definitely an option on the table -- but it was Theia’s personal insistence that it be this way. 

“Cassandra,” Theia exhaled the tension from her ribs, “Now that you and Olivia have...established, yourselves, I see no one better suited besides myself to ensure her safety. We still have a while before we are prepared to embark on the Wastes. I trust you will remain on top of your duties whilst traveling for lighter tasks.”

The Seeker lowered her chin, noticing the hushed tone the Inquisitor had adopted whilst Josephine and Olivia talked out loud rather gregariously. Her eyes flickered over to them: Olivia’s animated hands as she discussed some mouse-brained noble, Josephine smiling with critical pleasure. It was hard to believe she was experiencing such a sight: both her woman, and the Inquisitor’s, in the same place and time. Not to long ago she thought such a reality was impossible. 

“I will do as you ask, Inquisitor. Rest assured, she has the dedication of every inch of my person to her welfare.”

Theia smiled with relief, reaching a hand and lightly patting Cassandra’s shoulder. “That is what I like to hear from my most trusted friend.” She then turned to stand parallel to her, folding her arms with a new confidence in her posture. The women then both turned their attention to their lovers who were seemingly hip-deep in intrigue and gossip. It was quite a pleasant sight for an otherwise fatigued dawn. 

Taking it all in for a spare moment, Theia smirked under her breath. “To think, a month or two ago I would have never thought this to be feasible. You surprised everyone, Seeker, even your friend who thought she understood everything about your character.”

Cassandra did not turn her head, but she did offer a smile on the corner of her mouth. “I still have the potential for impulsiveness, at times.”

“Yes, but I don’t think she is a proof of your impulsiveness, my friend. I think, instead, she is evidence to the power of your intention, even as you are being proven misguided in your convictions.”

Cassandra chuckled low. “You are one to talk, Inquisitor.”

“Oh, yes, of course I am,” Theia’s eyes went to Josephine, and she could feel her heart ache with devotion seeing the way her mannerisms gracefully formulated themselves in her face. The way the light through the window refracted low colors of blue and green in her eyes, the way her brow furrowed when she was in the middle of making a most cunning point. 

“What did it for you, Seeker?” she asked quietly, her head leaning towards her from the side as she spoke quietly in the direction of her ear. 

Cassandra heard the question and was a bit unnerved by it -- such honesty and candid emotions were not uncommon between her and her friend, the Inquisitor, but being asked by Olivia’s closest friend was a bit daunting. It was as if she was being tested, albeit with the best intentions. 

But, then, her eyes locked on Olivia across the way. She watched her, and her breathing stilled. She was talking, telling some outlandish story, with her hands in the air waving in circles as she illustrated it. Her eyes were slightly glowing with honey metallic shades, her spirit lively even with just being asleep a half hour prior. Then, she did that thing -- one of those things Cassandra’s heart always skipped when she witnessed it -- she sent both hands deep into her waves of blonde hair, pushing them out of her face. As she did so, she smiled broadly, the dimples on either cheek out for all to see. She glowed, not in an artificial or overpowering way, but the way someone did when their heart was the most sincerely kind, her spirit matching its wholesomeness. 

She blinked, feeling captivated beyond propriety. 

Theia tilted her chin and gazed at her friend from her periphery, and it took everything in her not to start laughing with joyous compassion. She held her reaction in, waiting for the astute answer she thought she could always depend on Cassandra to provide. Turns out, she may have found the one person to throw a wrench in that consistency. 

The Seeker then took a breath, and cleared her throat quietly. 

“I suppose,” she adjusted her shoulders, “it would be the strength and brilliance of her character, Inquisitor.” 

Theia nodded a few times, amused, but not convinced. Witnessing such a loss of sense in a fleeting moment gave her the true answer to her inquiry. 

“Sure, Seeker. That was it.” 

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed a bit. “Inquisitor. I can be both beguiled by her beauty and her intellect!”

The elevated voice broke the discrete ambiance of their dialogue, and whilst Cassandra looked directly at Theia, both Josephine and Olivia turned and gazed at them, breaking their conversation at once. The silence in the room illuminated the truth of their dual discussions. Olivia, making eye contact with Cassandra, put her hand to her mouth to suppress her laughter.

Josephine lowered a brow, eyeing Theia with suspicion. “My Love, what on Earth are you sparring about?”

Theia’s expression turned to one of culpable mischief, and she shrugged. “Nothing, my dear. Just some friendly banter, is all.”

“Yes,” Cassandra followed up quickly, “nothing to worry about.”

Olivia burst out laughing then, unable to hold it in any longer. The “caught with our pants down” expression on her friend and her woman were insurmountable comedy. Then Josephine, in a small departure from decorum, started chuckling as well. Olivia’s laughter was infectious, especially when it was uninhibited. 

“Theia,” Olivia said melodically as she laughed, “leave Cassandra alone, would you? She faces enough argumentative questions from me in her day.”

Theia shook her head, her smile widening. “As you wish, Gem. Anything for you.” She invoked her nickname from their rebel days, and it always made Olivia feel bittersweetly touched. 

“Oh, you follow her directions the first time she dictates them?” Josephine quipped, watching as Theia made her way back over to her side, standing tall even for being caught in her machinations. Theia placed a hand on Josephine’s shoulder as penance, and promptly lowered herself and kissed the side of her head. “My Love, do not be offended. Only you have my soul’s devotion, surely.”

Watching them quarrel, Cassandra shook her head. She then turned and gazed back at Olivia, who’s wide smile was a recovery from her laughter. They exchanged a knowing look; seeing the way she lit up the room, the Seeker sneaked a smile her way. Interrogation or not, she knew there was no secret as far as Olivia was concerned.

[veridium]

“Long Cold Night”

 Theia x Josephine

--

Some nights in Skyhold held a bitterness in their cold that, even for the standard chill of the mountains, proved hard to settle into. On nights such as these, the Inquisitor and her lover found it hard to sleep, even when wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s bodies. The protocol for such problems went like this: keep the fire lasting in the fireplace, gather enough wool blankets to outfit a small contingent of Scouts, and lay out on the floor between the couch and the fireplace, head and shoulders closest to the emanating heat. 

They both laid on their backs, eyes drifting open and close with visions of the stone ceiling high above their heads. Theia had her arm wrapped under Josephine’s waist, holding her close to her side with her other arm tucked back under her own head of pale hair. Josephine’s cheek rested against her shoulder, fingers laced with hers underneath the cover of the blankets. Ironically, neither women wished to wear anything more than their smallclothes; even the most unforgiving, freezing night couldn’t keep them from desiring to be skin-on-skin. 

They had remained quiet for a long while, listening to the crackling fever of the fire above their heads. Ever so often, one or both would adjust in reaction to the buildup of head bearing down on their heads and shoulders.

Theia closed her eyes, willing to let this be her sleeping arrangement for the night. She felt Josephine stretch out a bit against her, and her hand instinctively adjusted and reaffirmed its grip. Underneath the sheets, Josephine’s fingers had began to wander, tracing across Theia’s abdomen and feeling the suppleness of her muscles laying just beneath the surface of her skin. The abrupt change in texture as she traced her battle wounds. 

Feeling a slight ticklish sensitivity to it, Theia grinned ever-so-slightly. 

“Are you not yet bored by my body’s imperfections?” she whispered with a hoarseness under her breath. 

Josephine inched closer to her, as if such things were possible. 

“Quite the contrary, my darling. I keep wishing to find new ways to exalt them.”

“Funny, so do my enemies. I hear they wish me stuffed and mounted like a prize animal.”

Josephine huffed through her nose. “You have such a flare for pleasant humor.”

Theia tilted her chin to rest against the top of Josephine’s head. Fatigue could do that to a person, she thought to herself. 

“And you have a flare for patience, that which is both underappreciated and overtaxed in loving a woman such as myself.”

The room went quiet again as Josephine decided to respond to her comment by leaning up and slightly over her; her loose curls of black hair falling over her shoulder as she did so. Theia could feel her eyes on her, but she did nothing more than let her eyes slit open, and her arm ease its grip around her waist. Josephine gazed at her in a moment of silent witnessing as the firelight danced with shadows in the peaks and concavities of Theia’s features. Her paleness was a prime canvas for the warm orange and red hues.

“Do you ever question your choice to be with me?” the Ambassador inquired, resting a hand on Theia’s chest. 

The Inquisitor’s brow furrowed as her eyes opened a bit wider, a bit surprised in the candid nature of her lover’s question. Surely, in both deed and verbal intention, she had ensured that her loyalty was as devout as it was unquestionable. Still, perhaps Josephine had let curiosity bite at her a bit too much to live and let live.

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” she responded as she reached into Josephine’s hair, gently intertwining her fingers in the thick and abundant strands.

Josephine tilted her head against her grip. “It is a simple question, and I would understand if you admitted to it. Such is only human nature.”

“Josephine,” Theia’s lips parted, “the only choice I question is your voluntary decision to love me when I know my endless sarcasm and smug attitude drive you up the wall.”

“Oh, it is not always miserable to be around you, Theia. You have your charms, surely,” Josephine teased lightly, leaning closer to her.

“Your vote of confidence is overwhelming in its ardor,” Theia replied with a unimpressed tone.

“Agh, you know what I am trying to say,” Josephine lightly swatted her on the arm. “I am only trying to engage in an honest conversation about our relationship. Forgive me for thinking you would be an open book to such matters.”

“This is a rhetorical trap, isn’t it? To get me to admit to my secret distaste for you. Is Leliana waiting in the rafters to harpoon me with her dagger?”

“Theia!”

The Inquisitor snickered, rubbing Josephine on her shoulder in an act of ease. “Josephine, I am only joking. I thought we had reached the point in the evening itinerary where we could, I don’t know, sleep and be blissfully ignorant to the world around us for several hours, at least.”

“Such luxuries are beyond us, I am afraid.”

“Ah, I see. Remind me to request a formal list of all said exempted luxuries so that I may better prepare myself. Sleeping? No. Blissful cuddling? certainly not. Josephine Montilyet simply enjoying the evening after glow from lovemaking without turning it into a battle of discursive wit? Maker, don’t be ridicu--”

“Theia Sofia Trevelyan, I had only made a simple inquiry. Do not sound off the horn for my disturbance of your precious time,” Josephine gave a wry smile, pinching Theia in the side and sending her into an unprepared squirm. 

“Josephine!” Theia smirked, one leg jerking up a bit as she felt the twinge of ticklish discomfort, “when have I ever not entertained your rhetorical jest?”

“Never.”

“Yet?”

“I am a woman who pines for more, what can I say?”

Theia wasn’t satiated with a such a response. At once, she sent the tips of her fingers sliding down Josephine’s bare back, sending shivers up her spine with her touch. Feeling the sensation of nerves, and the tenseness in her chest, Josephine leaned in against Theia’s hold. Her hand that had rested on Theia’s abdomen tightened its grip. 

Knowing she had been called on her bluff, she bit her lip and narrowed her eyes. “I take it you feel enthusiastic about such an agenda, mi amor.”

Theia chuckled under her breath, inviting Josephine to lay down back against her. Feeling her give in and lower her body back down onto the wool beneath them, she felt contented once more. 

“My love, nothing excites me more than your ambition.” She placed her hand on Josephine’s cheek, pushing away some invading strands of hair so she could better see her face. “To answer your question: no, I have never once doubted my decision to be with you. In all of my misadventures and misguided actions, you, above all, remain my most resolute north star.”

Josephine’s eyelashes fluttered as she blinked, reacting to the surge of heated blush in her own cheeks. She stared back at her, delaying her response. Suddenly, the sharpened wit and tact she was infamous for had been dulled into lucidity. She smiled softly, studying the soft strength in Theia’s face and profile as she laid there, eyes closed, a smug grin on her lips. The woman she had watched sleep for so many nights, whose quiet confidence proved a most potent solace in these long, freezing nights. 

“Well, then. That is all I wished to know.”

[veridium]

“Old Time’s Sake”

Characters: Olivia, Theia, Veronica, Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra

Summary:  Theia, Veronica, and Olivia recount some of their allies on the days of the Mage Rebellion when they had gone rogue for the sake of survival and vengeance. Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra play audience to their reminiscing. All things considered, it most definitely is not a boring conversation.

-

It was one of those rare nights where peoples’ wanderings led them to relax for a moment and enjoy conversation. Tonight, the amalgamation of bodies was Olivia, Cassandra, the Inquisitor herself, Josephine, Leliana, and Veronica. All having wandered into the Inquisitor’s chambers for one reason or another around the same time, and all hungering for curious questions to be answered.

Tonight, it was about the Foxes – the grouping of Theia, Naomi, Veronica, and Olivia – during their days surviving the Rebellion’s tumult. Josephine, Cassandra, and Leliana had all in their own ways grown interested in just what it was like.

As they all sat around the large fireplace, assembled like a consortium of lethal women with stories to tell, they looked almost picturesque enough to be captured in a painting: on one loveseat, Josephine and Theia sat side-by-side, tall and warm in their postures. Then, to their right facing the fire, Veronica was sprawled in her seat, leaning back on the arm rest with her legs spread wide. Above her head, Sister Nightingale sat up against the back rest, a hand resting on her thigh. Then, to their right, another loveseat for Cassandra and Olivia. Though, whereas Cassandra had sat herself on the cushions, Olivia opted for the floor. She had her legs tucked like a lady underneath her work gown, an elbow resting across Cassandra’s thigh as she leaned against her legs. Ever so often she would perch her chin on it whilst she listened to others talk.

“I do not understand,” Cassandra retorted Theia’s recount of a particular anecdote, “you did not have an ounce of navigational knowledge between the five of you?”

Theia chuckled. “I know, it seems rather outlandish. But, we each had some memory of a city or province to speak of. By trial and error we were able to have a rough idea of where we were in relation to them: Naomi being Antivan and knowing that she was south of her home city, and me being from the Free Marches, for example.”

“Still, you had no resources for finding your way.”

“We had the road, and typically, running in the opposite direction of the rabid men with swords helps you to decide where you’re apt to go,” Theia leaned back and rest her outstretched arms on her couch.

Olivia giggled warmly, resting her head up on Cassandra’s knee. “My Love, not everyone works by virtue of maps, compasses, and falconry.”

Cassandra smirked. “I understand that well enough.”

Veronica snorted, then, rolling her shoulders as they were stiffening in her relaxed position. She had been sucking her teeth whilst Theia told the stories, opting instead to smirk or scoff whenever she was a little too embellishing or sentimental. For Ro, it was no romantic story – it was a era of her life where she was broken and pieced together night after night, surviving. They had all internalized these memories in their own respective ways, but for her, it was a wound that would never heal – not fully, anyway. But, like she always did, she expressed that via salted humor.

“Roslyn and I did the majority of the scouting whilst Theia tripped on logs, lest you forget, Inquisitor,” she teased, letting the synonyms of Theia’s moniker linger on her tongue with a mocking sentiment.

Already aggravated by the interjection, Theia rolled her eyes and took her chalice from the table in between them all.

“Yes, but who was there to fish both of you out of trouble when you were “scouting” down groups of bandits?”

“We were capable,” Veronica glared with light affection, “Roslyn’s blade and magic were indominable.”

“Yes, as was her penchant for testing it over and over without thinking,” Theia retorted as she folded her arms. Roslyn, the fifth Fox that was never known to the Inquisition’s ranks due to her death, was still a point of contention for Veronica and Theia even as they had put her memory to rest. Roslyn would never have the chance to redeem her goodness, or to prove herself productive to a cause bigger than herself in spite of her life. This was harder for Veronica to process than Theia, who had seen too many people die to feel particularly engrossed in “what if’s” unless she was feeling particularly masochistic.

As the two women stared at each other, a moment of sore tension ebbed.

To Read The Full Short Story on Ao3, Click Here!

[veridium]

#Theiaphine Chapter Index

Hello friends!

So, in lieu of the master post wherein I listed all Theiaphine episodes, I have elected to simply share the link to the Chapter Index on my Ao3 so people won’t be spammed by my long posts anymore.

To read the chapters, catch up, and check for new ones, 

Click Here to Go to My Ao3 Index!

Just to remind: I post new official head canon chapters once every Monday and Thursday, and sprinkle in bonus shorts throughout the week. This link goes to the Official Chapters, but you can check out my other writings on my works page.

Thank you for being so wonderful and keeping up with my ridiculous writing! Love and light to all!

[veridium]

12. things you said when you thought i was asleep (For Theiaphine?)

Aw, this is gonna be real sweet! I switched it up a little just because I’m fascinated with Theia’s dreaming problems, but, I hope it still rings true to the prompt!

“Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep”

Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan x Josephine Montilyet 

When Theia had nightmares, they were heavy and rancid almost. She felt like she was being crushed, or pulvarized by the emotions. Her electric magic must have had something to do with it, because quite frankly sometimes she felt like she could turn into bottled lightning and burst from the inside out.

The silver lining, she thought, was that her nightmares were a quiet kind of torment. She never screamed, or yelled, at least to her knowledge. No perilous escapes or gore. Just pressure, anxiety, and sorrow. So, when she awoke suddenly with a sharp inhale tense in her chest, she felt like the experience of being crushed alive had evaded her one more time. For now.

Eyes opening and blinking for clarity, she found herself laying on her side, facing the corner of her room with the dresser and painted picture on the wall. She must have tossed a bit, because she had originally been curled toward the inside of the bed. Candles were still lit, and the room was a myriad of ember and honey shades. 

Feeling resistance as her stretching pulled on the sheets, she rolled lazily onto her back to see what was holding things up in bed. Her gaze honed in on her lover, sitting upright on her folded legs underneath her. She was braiding her hair over one side of her shoulder, eyes staring off into space, probably deep in her thoughts. Disarmed by the gentility of such a visual, Theia groaned, and rubbed her face with her hand.

“My love,” she muttered as she stretched, “why not sleep? How late is it?”

“I was thinking. It must be past midnight now, I imagine,” Josephine cooed, a hint of distraction in her voice. It piqued what curiosity Theia had to speak of as she woke up.

“Thinking? What of?”

Josephine came to the end of her hair strand, and, unimpressed with her own handiwork, undid the braid she had crafted. She sighed under her breath. 

“Many concerns, as always. Is your sleep restful?”

“I was thinking so, but apparently my body disagreed. Which is why I am here,” Theia pulled her upper body up so as to sit beside Josephine, and provide some more engaged conversation. It looked like it was perhaps needed.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Theia pressed once more, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around her thighs.

Josephine bit her lip, resisting the urge to look Theia in the eyes. Surely it would provide too much emotional sway for her to keep composure. But why be so distant? It confused her lover.

“You…you spoke in your sleep again,” she admitted, staring off towards the balcony, the wind tousling the tapestries every-so-slightly. The admonition made Theia’s heart sink, because surely with such a somber tone, Josephine did not like what she heard. Making her partner sad so involuntarily always bothered her, and she hated how often her sleep-talking divulged sadness she wasn’t ready or willing to let slip.

“What did I say this time?” she asked with caution. 

Josephine let a pause set in before she responded. She felt sorry for making Theia re-live this, even if it was something in her subconscious that she perhaps wasn’t aware of, or would forget when she awoke in the morning.

“You said my name, like I was in danger. Then, you were calling for me, and breathing heavily. It was as if you were chasing someone, or something.”

“…I see.”

Josephine broke with her own rule and turned her gaze to Theia, her eyes careful and sympathetic.

“You also said you wished you never…that you…” she struggled, “that you never loved me.”

Theia’s brow furrowed, suddenly confused by the transcript of events. To go from chasing after her, maybe wishing to rescue her, and then to denounce her? Even if what they were interpreting was a dream and not real-life, Theia couldn’t help but be betrayed by the out-of-character behavior.

“Josephine,” she cooed, reaching a hand and lovingly stroking her lover’s hair out of her face, “you always take my dreams so seriously. You know they are not real.”

“I understand that quite well, Theia, thank you for reminding me.” The defensiveness in her tone told Theia everything she wasn’t speaking into existence: Josephine knew well enough that dreams were dreams, she was no simpleton. What bothered her was having to hear it at all, to know what her lover’s voice sounded like when she said such things. You don’t daydream about your lover rejecting you, or wishing they had never embarked on an affair with you, or that they wanted you gone. But there she was, and the sound of it was imprinted in her mind. 

Theia exhaled, retracting her hand that clearly wasn’t as welcome as she wished it was.

“My dreams are anomalies even to me. I don’t picture any of the events you seem to hear me navigating.”

“I know you are troubled by your experiences. I do not wish you think I am unsympathetic to your struggles. I just…” Josephine gazed down in her lap, doing her best to comprise the best words. The late hour in the night was not her best time. “I only wish I could provide more comfort, besides a distraction.”

“Josephine Montilyet, you are above and beyond a distraction to me.” 

“You know what I meant, Theia.”

Theia shook her head once, a grin on her lips as she took hold of her partner’s hand that was exposed over the blanket. 

“If only you knew how wonderful it is when I dream of you the other 90% of the time.”

Josephine’s brow raised, and she eyed Theia from her periphery, sensing she was about to go off on one of her charming stories, or attempt to beguile her out of her sadness. Theia had many useful tools, but at this point they were familiar and predictable to the Ambassador, who’s job was to map out such mannerisms out of everyone around her. It was almost like planning out recipes for cooking.

One heaping dose of sarcasm, a teaspoon of kindness, a conservative pinch of vulnerability, an unnerving amount of salt, and… 

She felt Theia’s strong and caring arm pull her in, and she didn’t resist, even as her mind was swirling with thoughts. She leaned her chin on Theia’s shoulder, curling herself up against her side. Theia tucked her arm under Josephine’s, keeping their hands still intertwined. Feeling her bodily warmth was enough to entice her back into slumber, knowing she would be there to hold her tight.

They stayed like this, quiet and still, for a long while. Even in her upset state, Josephine felt the pull of sleep. Her breathing steadied over time, and she closed her eyes, remaining where she had initially tucked herself up against Theia’s shoulder. Theia remained loyally still, watching from over Josephine’s head as her body softened up against her. Her thumb occasionally stroked the back of her hand, subtly comforting and encouraging her into sleep. 

“But you, my dear and sweetest love, make dreams pale in comparison to a life with your existence,” Theia whispered, her voice deep with ardor as she put her lips to Josephine’s head of hair. She inhaled ever-so-softly, taking in the smell of her oils and perfumes that had worn down over the course of the day, but lingered faintly on her pores and hair.

Josephine, just barely awake enough to hear the rich voice she had fallen so deeply for, grinned on one side of her mouth.

and a most wonderfully-tasting, and addictive cup of sugar.

[veridium]

One day, I’m gonna write the scenes of each OTP before either one or all of them go off to fight Corypheus for the final time, and then, ya’ll, it’s gonna be over for kleenex boxes.

[veridium]

Announcement: Veridium-Bye is now on Ao3!

Guess what, Loves? I got me an Ao3 account!

And I have uploaded the majority of my archive onto it already, including my most-coveted Theia Trevelyan storyline and #Theiaphine arc, which I have now formally titled:

“ICE IN HER BLOOD: The Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan Saga”

To go to my page and read the chapters in order, click here!

A few notes:

- I will now only post intro excerpts to my episodes on here with the link to the full work on my public Ao3 archive.

- I will post full episodes here individually by request for the sake of accessibility, though. Just send me a message!

- I will also have all bonus episodes uploaded, just not as linear chapters in “ICE IN HER BLOOD.” Mostly for the sake of chronology.

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged and pushed me in my writing, and who have followed Theia’s story with such joy and attentiveness. I look forward to being able to expand her story and share it with more people. 

Thank you so much. Love and light!