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shivunin · 3 months

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Like Constellations

Happy OC Kiss Week! Kicking off with my dear @star--nymph's Eurydice and my Emmaera. Thank you for letting me borrow her, friend!

(721 Words | No Warnings)

The rain had left the ramparts of Skyhold slick and glistening. Here, near the lights of the Great Hall, they shimmered like tiny stars caught inexplicably in stone. It was a mirror to the stars the two elves discussed now, perhaps, but these were more touchable by far than the ones cast away in the sky.

“It shouldn’t be possible,” Emmaera murmured thoughtfully, looking behind them at the tiny lights. “The rain, I mean. By all rights, we should have snow on this side of the wall, too. This place and its seasons…it’s never made sense to me.”

“Stop moving,” Eurydice said behind her. “I’m not finished.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

The clouds above parted, slowly revealing a narrow slice of the heavens above. Early evening stars peered through the break in clouds.

“Falon’Din walked,” Eurydice prompted behind her.

Emmaera had no idea what her dear friend was doing behind her, but she wasn’t especially concerned. They’d grown used to spending time tucked between crenellations, Eury’s fingers quick and clever in Emma’s long hair while Emmaera told stories. What a relief it was to sit here just like this, where she need think of nothing more than whatever tale she’d been telling.

“Falon’Din walked the woods,” Emma went on, “but most of the time he flew. He wore the shape of a great owl, its feathers cast with dark spots. An owl has fine eyes for little things, hidden things, and one by one he found all of the lost souls wandering alone there.”

The soft smell of lavender began to eclipse the scent of falling rain. Emma smiled and tilted her head back when Eurydice adjusted her grip.

“He tucked each of them safely amongst the feathers of his wings, for the journey to the Beyond is a long and dangerous one. It would have been very easy indeed to lose some of them along the way. After all, it is not so simple a thing for a mortal creature to leave behind everything it knows.”

She paused, trying to remember what came next. Eurydice’s hands gave one last, decisive tug on her hair. Stretching slightly, for she’d been sitting very still for quite some time, Emma turned and let her feet dangle over the long drop to the valley below. She began to reach for her hair, but her friend caught her hand before she could feel what had been done to it.

“Keep going,” Eurydice said.

Obligingly, Emmaera went on talking, unspooling a story beat by beat: a soul lost to the woods, a daring rescue, a home among the stars. It was one she had told before, and one she never minded telling again. It was difficult to mind when she had such a a captivated audience. Still speaking, Emmaera watched as her hand was turned upright. Eurydice's cool, green-stained fingertips traced the lines there with care.

“Falon'Din is gone now, as are all the gods,” she said at last. “Even so, perhaps his dark wings stretch across the sky even now, the way to the Beyond lit like a beacon between his feathers. Even on this very night, we can use them to show us where we are and where we ought to go. The Chantry calls them by another name, but elves know his stars nonetheless.”

“Hmm,” Eurydice said. Her eyes had drifted closed during the telling of the story, but her pale lashes fluttered open again when Emma stopped speaking. Emma turned her hand over and lifted Eury's to her mouth. She kissed each knuckle very carefully, neither too firm nor too soft. Eury allowed this, though not without a faint quiver at her ears.

“Thank you,” Emmaera said when she’d finished. “Can you remind me where it is? I'm still turned around now that we've finally found this place, and the clouds…”

“There,” Eurydice said, pointing with her free hand. As if by magic, the clouds drifted apart in the direction she pointed and a familiar cluster of stars was revealed.

Emmaera scooted closer and leaned her shoulder against Eurydice’s. As one, their palms pressed together, the two of them watched the stars. They thought of words long since past, words yet to come, and tried valiantly not to think at all about the faint green tint the sky had given to the distant stars.

#ockiss24 #oc kiss week #eurydice lavellan #emmaera lavellan #dai #shivunin scrivening #is it platonic? idk. Is it romantic? eh. They can hang out somewhere in the middle #ty kat c:#does emma forget what she was talking about occasionally because some fine point of how something works has occurred to her?#of course yes

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shivunin · 6 months

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To Build an End

(Cullen/Emmaera Lavellan | 1,524 Words | No warnings)

It was finally over.

When they left behind the ruins of the temple, they were not precisely where they’d been when they’d left the others behind. Varric had climbed from the dust and broken rock with her, both of them leaning unsteadily on each other until they could find Dorian and Cassandra. She ached to her bones, from the tips of her pointed ears to the blistered toes tucked into her boots. Her hair had come loose at a critical moment in that last push toward Corypheus, she’d lost a glove somewhere in the sky, and she had watched her friend vanish into the mountains.

All was not well—all would not be well for quite some time. Regardless, it was over.

“Send a raven,” she told Lace when they found her missing scouts at last, limping close enough that the croak of her voice could be heard. There was a half-collapsed wall to her left and she leaned hard enough against it that she worried she would send the second half of it toppling into the abyss.

“Already sent, Inquisitor,” Lace said. She cleared her throat and saluted, her eyes shining with the last of the Rift’s magic. “He’s really dead, huh?”

“Dead as I could make him,” Lavellan said. She thought of Hawke, of her assurances that Corypheus had been killed before.

Would they see their enemy again? Would he find some other doorway, some other crack to slip through into their world? She could not know. She did not know what happened to a body when it was scattered through reality and unreality at once. Perhaps she had merely fragmented him into several wholes and he would return to them as a legion of Coryphei. Perhaps he was simply and entirely dead.

Lavellan didn’t know that, either. She knew only that she wanted badly to be held, to be clean, and to sleep, not necessarily in that order.

But first: the mountain.

“Is everyone well enough to ride?” she called, her voice cracking in the middle of “enough.”

Cassandra, who had carried the unconscious witch from the ruins, made a displeased sound somewhere behind them.

“Except for Morrigan,” Emmaera amended, and squeezed her eyes shut when another pang gripped her leg. She would drink a potion in the saddle and that would fix it enough, but—they could not wait. Their people needed to see them well, and soon. She did not want another search party scouring the mountains for her body. The memory of the snow, of the cold after Haven’s fall echoed in her thoughts now.

No. No, they needed to go now.

“I suppose we’ll make it if we’re in some sort of hurry,” Dorian puffed, pressing both palms to his knees. “I suppose I rather agree that I wouldn’t prefer to hang around here at this particular moment.”

“Good,” Lavellan said, tucking her errant hair back behind her ear. She thought of the path up the mountain, of the ones waiting for her there.

She thought of Cullen, who would surely be beside himself while they waited. When she came to him, his hair would gleam gold in the torchlight and he would smile at her and—and she needed to see him now.

“Quickly then,” she went on, whistling for her hart. “Up the mountain to Skyhold—to home.”

It was finally over.

Over a year of pain and devastation, personal losses and private triumphs, and it was over at last. Corypheus was dead. The Breach—Cullen had checked it so many times he’d lost count—was gone, too. The rest would be a logistical nightmare; they might have united disparate groups for the sake of this battle, but the unrest that had been seeded in these past months would not be quelled when the sky was sealed shut again. There were still rifts out there, still people who needed the Inquisition’s help, but—

It was done.

Even now, as the crowd of the Inquisition’s allies and soldiers waited with eyes on the gate, there was an air of celebration below. Someone had rolled a barrel of mead into the courtyard from the Herald’s Rest and tapped it. Mugs had passed from hand to hand, but the advisors had all abstained out of duty and decorum. Cullen thought Josephine might have benefited from a stiff drink; it was surely not visible from below, but she’d worried her quill to bits with nervous fingers. He could relate. It all felt too easy to be safe. They had thought themselves victorious before, hadn’t they? Haven yet lay half-buried under snow for his follies.

If he had a choice, he would be pacing the gates below and waiting for her—for their return. Leliana’s messengers had been clear: the ruins had fallen, but the Inquisitor had climbed safely from the wreckage. She lived, she walked under her own power, and now he had only to wait.

Cullen knew patience very well; he had learned it at the end of a blade and without countless repetitions. If necessary, he could call upon a dozen verses of the Chant to still his itchy fingers, his anxious feet. Maker willing, he would not need them. Maker willing, she would climb the hill and step through the gate any moment now. Any moment—

“Peace, Commander,” Leliana murmured. Cullen, who’d been tapping the hilt of his sword with increasing vigor, stilled his fingers.

“She is near,” Leliana went on. She looked so impassive, only the faintest hint of a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “Only a few moments more.”

“Truly?”Josephine asked, scribbling furiously. “Maker have mercy; I do not know if the catering will be ready. And the decor—”

“It will be fine, Josie,” Leliana murmured, stepping closer to her friend and resting a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder. “You’ll see.”

“Are you certain that—” Cullen began in an undertone, but Leliana was already shaking her head.

“Have you come to doubt me after so long, Commander?” she said, but she was still smiling. That was a good sign. He knew better than to anger their spymaster.

Cullen gestured sharply, shaking his head.

“Of course not! I only—”

The sound of horns cut off the end of the sentence, which was fortunate. Leliana knew precisely what he and Lavellan were to each other, but they had not acknowledged it publicly yet. It was a sign, perhaps, of how unsteady he felt that he hadn’t even considered less telling words. I only wish to see her again, to hold her safe—a sentiment that he felt keenly, but need not explain to Leliana. Neither Leliana nor anyone else here needed to hear such things. The only one who really needed to know was—

The Inquisitor strode into the courtyard below and their people erupted into cheers. Her armor was badly singed, but the burns showed worst in her hair. Her neat braids were gone. Instead, her hair fell in thick waves to her waist on the left. On the right, where her armor was most badly singed, it ended abruptly just above her elbow. Soot smudged her face and her gait was uneven. Her friends followed in her wake, each acknowledging the crowd in their way, but he did not look at them. His attention was entirely for her, assessing what little he could see from atop the stairs.

It was useless. Cullen was too far to discern much more. He had to hold still instead, had to present the correct face for their people, but—was she hurt? Was she hiding some injury beneath the burn marks and the armor? What had killing Corypheus cost her beyond what he could see? Cullen knew all too well the cost of a fight, the toll it took on one’s mind. It was not something he wished her to understand as he did.

This war had already cost her so much; what more had she lost this evening?

When she rounded the stairs at last, Emmaera’s eyes found him first. Cullen needed little more assurance than that: she met his eyes, green to gold, and smiled.

Well. Well, then.

Cullen held his composure long enough to bow for her as the other advisors did, but then he had little choice but to let go. What did it matter if everyone here knew that he loved her? What did it matter if they saw how she opened her arms to him, how she tucked her face into his neck, how he returned the gesture without question or hesitation?

“I am well,” she told him, half-laughing. The crowd roared even louder beneath them, but he could hear her clearly nevertheless. “All is well, Cullen. Creators, but I am glad to see you.”

“And I you,” he told her, careful not to hold too tightly even though he was loath to let go. When he’d embraced her, he’d tucked his nose just beneath her ear. Hidden under the smell of metal and blood and char, he caught the faintest hint of the oil she used in her hair.

Lavender—sweet lavender and his love, safe and returned to him despite all the odds.

And—it was finally, finally over.

#cullavellan #emmaera lavellan #cullen rutherford #dai #dragon age fic #yes hello i still adore them #shivunin scrivening

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shivunin · 2 months

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OC in Three

Rules: Post three pictures or images you feel relate to a character. They can be face claims, famous artworks, photos, or anything you think fits the Vibe™.

Thanks for the tags @idolsgf @ndostairlyrium and @greypetrel! This gives me an excuse to dust off the ol Pinterest account yet again c:

Tagging @inquisimer @bitchesofostwick @vakarians-babe @star--nymph @dreadfutures @nightwardenminthara @layalu @daggerbean @pinayelf @jtownnn and @zenstrike (and hey, if you want to do this too, consider this a tag!)

Gonna do all of them, because why not!

Arianwen Tabris

Maria Hawke

Emmaera Lavellan

Elowen Lavellan

Salshira Lavellan

Tavitha Hallowthorne

#arianwen tabris #maria hawke #elowen lavellan #emmaera lavellan #salshira lavellan #tav tag #tag game #thank you for the tags!!! <3

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shivunin · 10 days

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15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you so much for the tag @dreadfutures! I love this, and it's given me an excuse to comb back through Wander again c: This was honestly a really fun exercise because so much of character voice for me is carried by the context/narrative tone (and Emma especially writes a lot of letters in this fic, which aren't really dialogue).

So - for Emmaera Lavellan (Emma):

“We hear your concerns, ambassador. My advisor and I will discuss it at length, I assure you. Please, feel free to find either of us if you have concerns about the accommodations at Skyhold ahead of the fete.”

“It doesn’t feel like we do, Josie. We already saved the world. Why couldn’t that be enough?”

"When I’m sitting in those meetings, I think about all the ways I could get away from here without someone noticing. I think about climbing down from the tower, or hiding in the stables until night and taking the dracolisk out."

“Your new owner was a bad man,” she continued, “I’m sorry for that. But if you’ll let me help, I will make sure you’re cared for as long as you stay with me.”

"We didn’t have to put other faces on for each other–when we were alone, we spoke plainly and left behind the facades. So when I tell you he wasn’t the one who put the knife in my chest, believe me: It wasn’t him.”

“It had better be little. I’ve had enough parties in my honor to last a lifetime.”

"This woman would not know her Maker if he picked her up by the heel and shook her."

"I don’t know. Is there a problem? I’ve heard I can’t do anything myself. Seems like I should be no manner of threat at all to one such as you–who killed a single , individual Venatori three years ago."

"You once saw me throw a fireball into a dragon’s mouth while it had me between its teeth. I think I can manage to walk down a dirty street alone, missing arm or no."

“You’ll see. I’m just - not suited to lounging around this manor and hoping for the best. I have to do something. And if I have nothing to do here–”

“But it would look so dashing. Maybe I want it to heal crooked.”

"Silly choice of metals, gold. All soft and shiny. I’d rather a heart of iron or steel or–ooh, dragon bone would be fantastic. Very durable, dragon bone. Velvet, though–-that would be novel. A heart of velvet: prickly one way and soft the other. Uncomfortably warm in the summer. That fits much better.”

"If the choice was between forgiveness and moving on–what else could I choose?"

"He knows how to open doors. It hasn’t become a problem yet.”

"Even if you forget someday, this is yours to read as you wish. I thought you should have that, to decide for yourself what you want to know."

Tagging @greypetrel @inquisimer @nightwardenminthara @idolsgf @transprincecaspian @star--nymph @vakarians-babe and you!!

#tbh tempted to compile lists for the others but what i realized while doing this #is that emma talks a lot less than i realized #and that doing this for maria would probably be a nightmare lmao #because she talks so much #it would be hard to pare the list down #tag game #emmaera lavellan #emma talks most when she's mad and delirious is what i learned in this exercise haha

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shivunin · 4 months

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Three-Song Playlists

Rules: Compile three-song playlists for as many OCs as you can/would like to

Thank you for the tag @greypetrel! Like you, I am linking the full playlist in case anyone would like to listen to them c: The songs are in no particular order.

Tagging @star--nymph @zenstrike @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @dungeons-and-dragon-age @inquisimer @idolsgf @dreadfutures @bitchesofostwick @vakarians-babe @jtownnn @nightwardenminthara @brother-genitivi and anyone who loves music (Please recommend music to me!! I love hearing new songs!!)

Arianwen Tabris (🗡️)

I Spit On Your Grave by ZAND (Spit your blood into my cup and then I'll gulp you down)

Trigger Finger by Coyote Kid (Bloodstains on a kitchen knife/ it wasn't made for this, but I know how to improvise)

Praying Mantis by Jazz Alonso (If I show my teeth, I must be hungry/ in you go, baby)

Maria Hawke (✨)

Nobody Wants to Be Alone by Christian Reindl, Atrel (When you strain your eyes to see the light, I won't be far behind/ Cause it's better in the dark when you're a friend of mine)

Champion by Fall Out Boy (I'm just young enough to still believe, but young enough not to know what to believe in)

Gracias a la Vida by Mercedes Sosa (Me ha dado la risa y me ha dado el llanto/ Así yo distingo dicha de quebranto/ Los dos materiales que forman mi canto)

Emmaera Lavellan (✉️)

Every Other Love Song by MALINDA (So good at explaining/ at finding the right words/ but when I look at you, I fail)

No Choir by Florence + the Machine (If tomorrow it's all over/ at least we had it for a moment/ Oh, darling, things seem so unstable/ but for a moment we were able to be still)

Comfort by Deb Talan (If you can't remember a better time/ you can have mine)

Elowen Lavellan (🌱)

Overture III/Awake by Sleeping at Last (Today, I'll survive/ tomorrow, make sense of my life)

Soap by The Oh Hellos (I don't know I've seen a thing grow/ without an open coat/ not without a softness showing)

Queen of Nothing by The Crane Wives (Isn't this what you wanted? Time sure feels like it's running out/ Just finish what you started/ Queen of nothing, wearing such a heavy crown)

Salshira Lavellan (🍂)

punchline by KiNG MALA (I'm having a great time/being the punchline to my own joke)

Dutch by Dessa (Love is like liquor/ it burns when it moves you/ Far as I figure/ there's nobody fireproof)

Mean It by K.Flay (So when I say I love you, I want to mean it/ Cause I say a lot of things that I don't mean)

Tavitha (Tav) (🌤️)

Can't Cheat Death by The Ballroom Thieves (There are two things I know for sure: I will be free, I will be free, I will be free/ and you can't cheat death)

Greener by Anju, Uliya (You reached inside and took the parts you wanted out/ maybe you forgot/ you can take what I have, but I grow something better back)

Dancing Plague of 1518 by mollyofgeography(Make room to hold a want that's weighted/shapeshift to sate it/ 'til my head knows my heart betrayed it)

Jesse Shepard (☄️)

Machine Heart by Icarus (You've been looking for some kind of savior/ you created me and turned me into you/ to make me last a lifetime)

Glitter & Gold by Barns Courtney (Do you walk in the shadow of men who sold their lives to a dream? Do you ponder the manner of things in the dark?)

Rusty Cage by Johnny Cash (You wired me awake and hit me with a hand of broken nails...but I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run)

#arianwen tabris #maria hawke #elowen lavellan #emmaera lavellan #salshira lavellan #tav tag #jesse shepard #tag game #music #this took me way longer than i'd like to admit lol

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shivunin · 6 months

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“Never really been alive before” for the prompts :3

Ooooh, thank you so much! The instant I saw this one, I knew what I wanted to write c:

(Prompts)

Not a Moment Sooner

(Cullen/Emmaera Lavellan | 1,159 Words | CW: References to lyrium addiction)

“Never really been alive before, I always lived in my head. Sometimes, it was easier hungover and half-dead.” —Florence + the Machine, “Back in Town”

Cullen jolted awake, the nightmare still thick in his throat.

The room was quiet beyond him save the soft, even breathing of his love. He could hear the wind whistling through the hole in the roof, the orderly scuff of boots on stone, the distant caw of a raven. All was well enough, even if for a moment he had to remind himself that all of those things were right. He was the Commander of the Inquisition, no longer a Templar, and this was where he was supposed to be.

Heart still racing, he rolled onto his side. Emmaera’s breathing did not change. Moonlight settled gently over her bare shoulder, brushed soft fingers over her long, loose hair, and traced the swell of her hip with silver. For a moment, Cullen just looked at her and breathed.

Yes. He was here with her, right where he was supposed to be. He wasn’t that man anymore. Those days were in the past.

The wind brushed past again and Emmaera shivered, though her breath remained even. Carefully, Cullen drew the sheet up over her shoulder and tucked himself against her. Her hair tickled his chest when he moved closer, but he was loath to let go. The nightmare—no, dream—hovered close even now and she seemed his best hope at beating it away again. Eyes tightly closed, he pressed his nose into her hair and breathed in the faint scent of lavender.

Long experience had taught him that he dreams of daily life as a Templar were almost worst than the nightmares of torture. He could expect the torture. He could plan for it, act around it, sometimes work himself out of those nightmares. Though he was often unwell on the mornings after the worst of them, he could work around that, too. That pain was an old pain. He knew its boundaries well by now, knew its pitfalls and its limitations.

The memory of who he’d been before, of what it had been like to feel that liquid surety in his very blood—they were far worse in many ways. It was painful to remember how simple life had been then. He had rarely been asked to express his own judgment, to think for himself; there had been only the Knight-Commander and the lyrium and the conviction that the Chantry must be right above all others. Moreover, the days after these dreams were a torment. He could all but hear the song of lyrium in passing templars, in the potion belts the mages wore. Maker, he could hear it even when there was no clear origin—and it made him horribly, horribly thirsty.

Parched, in fact, as he was now.

In the dream, Cullen had patrolled through Kirkwall’s streets. The sun had been hot on his back and the lyrium had just begun to fade in his veins. His head ached, as it often had when he’d struggled to sleep the night before. The one patrolling with him had been functionally faceless, helmed and covered in full plate. Cullen had ignored them, and his companion had not spoken.

People turned from them as they turned the corner, huddling away with shoulders hunched to avoid notice. Others had straightened up and nodded to them. Cullen had nodded back in acknowledgment, even though the motion made his head ache even worse. He needed more. If he asked, perhaps Meredith…but no. He would not ask. He was strong enough to bear the aching without fresh lyrium.

He did not know what made him turn as they passed the alleyway, but he’d paused to look.

There—an elven woman, huddled against the wall. Markings like vines and tree roots had grown over her chin and forehead—Dalish. She’d been clutching her arm, her face a mask of pain. Cullen had looked at her, and felt nothing, and turned away.

A nightmare, then. Not a dream. Yes, he was certain of it. He’d told Lavellan that it made him feel ill to know that the man he’d been before would not have cared for her. The thought of it had chased him into dreams before tonight, the creeping horror of the person he’d once been. For a decade, lyrium had left no room to think, no room to care, and he had allowed it to happen.

Ah, he ached tonight. His joints were the worst, but his head was pounding, too. Perhaps that was where the nightmare had been called from; perhaps his own body had summoned it from his own pain.

Emmaera made a soft noise and pressed herself back against him.

“’sit morning already?” she murmured, turning her head. Cullen kissed her cheek carefully and wrapped his arm more firmly around her waist.

“Not quite. Rest, love.”

Emmaera hummed in acknowledgement, but rolled over after a moment and peered at him. The light caught in her eyes for only a moment before she huddled against him. She was so lovely—always, sleep-tousled hair and all. When she pressed her face into his neck, her nose was shockingly cold.

“You’re not to get up yet,” she murmured, lips brushing against his bare skin. “You promised I’d have you until the sun rose. The troops can wait.”

Cullen huffed and kissed the side of her head. Affection chased away the shadows in his heart, though it did little for the headache. He was grateful for it even so.

“You have my solemn vow, Inquisitor,” he murmured. “Until the sun rises. Not a moment sooner.”

She laughed softly.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Her heart beat steadily under his hand. Her breath was warm against his chest. The headache was his, and for all that it clutched at the base of his skull he would not be exchanging it for a fog. This life—it was not easy. Perhaps it would yet kill him.

But it was his life. His, for the first time since he’d been a boy. If his body ached, if his mind tormented him in his sleep, well—at least he knew it was his body, that the decisions he made were his own. For good or ill, he stood on his own two legs now without lyrium or Order to prop him up or puppet him around.

“I love you,” Emmaera murmured, her voice drowsy again. She kissed his neck and nestled closer. “Go to sleep, Cullen.”

Yes—he was his own man. And though it had perplexed him at the time, she had seen this and…loved him for it.

“I love you,” he echoed, passing a hand slowly over her back. “I will try.”

Though he tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep again, when the sun broke through the windows at last he found himself calm and clear. Most crucially, when dawn came, he knew that he was not alone. Maker willing—Emmaera willing—he never would be again.

#emmaera lavellan #cullen rutherford #cullavellan #cullemma #prompt response #ask response #da fanfic #shivunin scrivening #big proponent of 'love does not conquer all but it sure makes everything else easier to bear'

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shivunin · 5 months

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From this list: Find one quote from a book, a song, or a piece of media that would make them feel at peace.

Thanks for asking, @greypetrel!

#salshira lavellan #elowen lavellan #emmaera lavellan #arianwen tabris #maria hawke #jesse shepard #tav tag #ask game #oc ask game

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shivunin · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @greypetrel! Tagging in turn @star--nymph @ndostairlyrium @zenstrike @dungeons-and-dragon-age @daggerbean @transprincecaspian, no pressure as always!

Here is a little piece of a fic about when Emma first came to Kirkwall:

“Varric is pleased that you’ll be staying.”

The tea hadn’t been given long enough to brew. Maria sipped it anyway, then set the delicate teacup back on its saucer. She’d broken out the good porcelain for her illustrious visitor, but the Inquisitor did not seem herself. Or rather—not the version of herself that Hawke remembered. There was something sharp about her now. Her cheeks seemed hollower somehow, the jagged ends of her shorn hair jabbing at her shoulders in accusation.

Varric had been right to worry. Hawke had wondered if he was just being fussy, but…yes. She understood now.

“I’m glad,” Lavellan said, crossing one leg over the other.

She’d been stirring her tea for several minutes, but she set the spoon aside now and took a sip. If she liked it, Hawke could not tell.

“Have you found the manor to your liking?”

“Yes,” Lavellan said, eyes straying to the corner of the library.

Sun pooled on the little table before the window there, a promise of the delights to be had in the courtyard beyond. If Lavellan had not come for tea, Hawke would be out there now. If she strained, she could hear Fenris’s low voice murmuring to Leander. It was funny, sometimes, to remember what he had been like when they’d first met. She could never have imagined that he could be so…well. Effusive rather covered it, she thought.

When they’d first met—well. He’d been rather like the woman who sat across from her now. There’d been something burning behind his eyes then, something she’d seen a dozen times after. Vengeance, she supposed, and a need to see the wrongs done to him righted. Something burned in Lavellan’s eyes, too. Hawke was not entirely sure that she wanted to know what it was.

“I am sorry,” Lavellan closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am still getting used to all of this. I appreciate you inviting me here. I hadn’t expected…well. I am grateful.”

This, too, sounded little like the woman Maria remembered. The Inquisitor had been sharp then, too, but sharp like a rapier or a scalpel. She had been precise in all things. Now—she was sharp like a mirror after a fist had been put through it.

The last time Hawke had seen her, she’d been in love.

“There is more to the city than I’d thought,” Lavellan went on, twisting the teacup over and over in her lap. The pale green tea swayed close to the rim over and over, but never quite spilled past the edge. “More stairs, at least.”

“The stairs always take people aback,” Hawke agreed. “I recall being sore all over when we first came here. You’ll get used to them sooner than you expect.”

“Perhaps,” Lavellan took another sip of her tea, then set it down again. “And you? I seem to remember you mentioning a place outside the city where you’d been staying. Do you live here all the time now?”

“More or less. Varric asked me to come back—said being Viscount was awfully boring without me around to keep things interesting. Did he say the same to you?”

“Something like that.”

Fenris’s voice rose outside, nearing the door downstairs. It creaked open, then latched shut again.

“What do you…usually…” Lavellan’s eyes fixed somewhere behind Hawke. Her smile, which could only be described as polite, fixed itself into a rictus on her face.

“Maria, he needs—” Fenris cut himself off abruptly, taking a swift step to the side—out of the open doorway, Hawke noted. “Who is this?”

Lavellan said nothing. Her face was horrible to look at.

“Inquisitor Lavellan,” Maria said, looking between the two of them. They couldn’t possibly know each other. This had to be something else. Something she didn’t have the context for. “Emmaera Lavellan. She’s the one who got me out of the Fade. Remember?”

Fenris said nothing. His lips were pressed closed and his free hand had come up to curl around Leander’s little head.

“You have a child,” Lavellan said, and there was a sharp noise as the teacup landed on the table. “I mean—thank you. For the tea. I need to go now.”

“Yes, I—Ah.”

The former Inquisitor was gone almost before Hawke had finished speaking, the edge of her cloak sweeping round the doorway only moments before the front door swung shut.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, his eyes fixed on the doorway. Maria set her tea aside and stood, following the path her guest had taken. The foyer was empty.

“What happened?” Fenris asked, for he’d followed her into the room. He scanned the empty foyer and relaxed slightly. Leander, who’d been busily gnawing on his father’s collar, made an inquisitive noise.

“Well,” she told the closed front door. “I can’t say it went well, Varric. No, I didn’t convince her that she ought to stay. Yes, I know that’s the only thing you asked me to do. Andraste’s knees.”

“I couldn’t for the life of me say,” Hawke said, lifting their son from Fenris’s arms. She pressed a kiss to his pale, curling hair and turned back to the library. “Do you know each other?”

“She wasn’t looking at me,” Fenris said, his voice dark.

“Hmm,” Hawke murmured, and pressed another, longer kiss to her son’s curls.

#wip wednesday #maria hawke #emmaera lavellan #she is not doing well. my poor bb #it's because leander looks exactly like what she imagined her children with cullen would look like #just tbc #shivunin scrivening

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shivunin · 7 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @greypetrel @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @layalu!! In turn, tagging (no pressure, always): @heniareth @zenstrike @dreadfutures @pinayelf @vakarians-babe @jtownnn and you, if you have something you'd like to share! It has been a Week and my brain is soup, but here is something I wrote in companion to the piece about Hawke lost in the Fade. I got to thinking about what might lead my Inquisitor to the role she plays in that fic, and it has been eons since I've written Emma (my darling!), so:

It was always cold at night in Skyhold, even if the magic of the fortress itself held the worst of the frosts at bay.

Emmaera stood on the balcony, looking out at the moon over the snow, and tried to decide if she was ready to cry yet. It seemed like this ought to be the right time; she was finally home, such as it was, and she’d been thinking for ages how nice it would be to get home and finally, finally cry.

Why couldn’t she do it?

“You’re still awake?”

She didn’t turn when the door creaked the rest of the way open, but she leaned back when Cullen wrapped his arms around her.

“I can’t sleep. Well—that’s an understatement, I suppose.”

“Hmm,” he said, and she could feel the tension in him before he spoke again. “Adamant?”

“What else?”

If she strained, she could see the ravens as they flew from Leliana’s tower. Not unusual, really. The spymaster and her folk sent letters at all hours of the night. But…well. Lavellan knew exactly who’d sent the ones winging from the rookery now.

“I should’ve—” she began, but gritted her teeth against it.

How self-serving to pity herself over the choice now; she, who’d sent Varric’s dearest friend to her death. How could she even pretend she had the right?

“You did the best you could,” Cullen told her quietly, squeezing tighter. Emma shook her head silently and gripped the cold stone of the balustrade.

“There had to have been another way. I could have—I could have held it back. I could have—If I’d just had time to think—”

“We have discussed what happened a dozen times,” Cullen told her quietly. “I know it doesn’t help. I know; believe me, I know. But—”

“The eluvians,” she interrupted. “There’s got to be something there.”

“Emmaera—”

“I know it,” she said, for she had spent the last week thinking of little else. She had lost her father to an eluvian most of her lifetime ago. Maybe—maybe another could unmake this wrong. Maybe Hawke was still out there to bring back.

“If I could just go for—for a week—”

“There is no time,” he let go of her, stepping to the side so they could look at each other. “If there was some way—if anyone deserves saving, it’s her, but there is no time. We march for the Arbor Wilds in under a month and you’ve excursions planned from tomorrow to then.”

“I owe her,” she told him, her voice ragged. She pressed one fisted hand—the one marked with the Anchor—to her chest. “I owe her everything. She gave up her life for me. She was supposed to be retired; Varric told Cassandra—oh, nevermind that. I can’t just leave her there, Cullen. What if it’s me someday? What if I never get to leave this, either, and someday someone will come out of the woodwork to ask me if I might help them with one last mission? What if you were the one who had to hear that I’d been lost somewhere, that they were very sorry but I was an acceptable casualty and—”

She couldn’t go on. Lavellan pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, willing her eyes to stop stinging. Behind her, she could hear Cullen shift and sigh.

“I know,” he said. “I know the guilt you feel and—I wish I knew what to say.”

“Say I should go,” the Inquisitor said, back straight as an arrow, and turned to her Commander. “Say that I can leave and bring her back.”

Emmaera sighed, slumping slightly, and reached for his hand.

“Say that you would want someone to do the same if it were me,” she told her lover, and Cullen searched her face.

“I wouldn’t let someone else do it if you were lost,” he told her quietly. “But—very well. I will go write a message for the others now. See what we can rearrange.”

“Thank you,” she told him, heartfelt. “Thank you.”

Cullen reached for her and folded her close, leaning his cheek against her hair.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, and closed his eyes tightly.

#emmaera lavellan #cullavellan #shivunin scrivening #oh guilt my beloved

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shivunin · 5 months

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sitting here with my chin in my hands thinking about Cullen working in a rehab center and helping people tbh

Honestly, it is more than half the reason I dipped my toe into that particular trope pond at all lol. I like seeing where the puzzle pieces fit in an adjusted setting, and wanting to help people is such a huge part of his motivation as a character. It's what led him to the Order in the first place, it's what made him so easy for Meredith to manipulate, and it's why he was finally able to get out. I think it's a really overlooked part of his motivations in Inquisition, honestly. Yes, he is working toward atonement (he makes that very clear), but I think he also just sees a wrong being done and wants to do everything in his power to fix it.

It just makes sense to me that he'd want to hold out a hand for people who fell into the same kind of pain. Who better to understand than someone who's been through it?

And since you mention it.....

(Snippet below)

“Mmm,” she said, and caught the waitress’s eye as she passed. “The blueberry mead, thanks. Yeah, I’m here for a conference. Not too close to home, but it was all-expenses-paid and who can pass up something like that, right?”

“Right,” Cullen said, leaning forward slightly, “The…archival conference, yes?”

“Special collections,” she corrected, cocking her head. “You know of it?”

“I was working security,” he said. “Moonlighting, as it were. I was in the hall during the talk on…what was it? The long-term effects of acidity in disposable testing equipment for Elvhen ruins?”

“Ha! Yeah,” she said, chuckling and leaning in. “That sort of thing always feels like a pitch for someone’s product, but that’s how funding shakes out. Has to get studied somehow, right?”

“As you say,” Cullen smiled faintly, caught despite himself by her own smile, by the brightness in her eyes. “I’m Cullen.”

“Cullen? I’m Emmaera. Ah, Doctor Emmaera Lavellan. I’m an expert in ancient magical artifacts, specifically refractory energy patterns and emergency diffusion strategies. Not thrilling to the general public, but I can assure you it’s a very sexy field of study for other experts. Like volcanologists are to other geologists.”

Cullen laughed, willing himself not to react to the way her voice sounded when she said “sexy;” he was a grown man, for Holy Andraste’s sake, he could get ahold of himself.

“Cullen Rutherford,” he said, and hesitated. “Ah—formerly of the Templar Order.”

“Oh? Thanks,” Emmaera directed the latter to the waitress, who’d slid a small glass of golden-brown liquid onto the table before her.

“Formerly, huh?” she said. “Explains the lyrium, I suppose. And now?”

Well—that was a more even-keeled response than he’d anticipated. Cullen shifted in his seat, reaching for his glass and taking a sip.

“I work at a rehab center during the day, and I occasionally teach self-defense in the evenings.”

“And you moonlight as a security guard at conferences for history nerds,” she finished, the corner of her mouth kicking up into a smile again. It was crooked, curling into a dimple at the corner, and he found himself watching it for longer than strictly necessary.

“Security coordinator,” he corrected, smiling back. “A glorified guard, perhaps.”

“Fancy,” she said, leaning back to cross her legs. He caught the flash of brown skin as she sat back in the rickety wooden chair, then settled her glass onto her knee.

Cullen was not especially given to speaking with strangers in bars, but he wanted her to keep talking. About anything—he liked the sound of her voice, the soft roll on certain syllables, the way she looked at him when he answered her. He just wished he could think of something to say to—

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Which part?”

“Any of it.”

“I suppose,” he said, and paused. “Yes. I’ve always wanted to help people; that I can do that every day is…well. Yes, I like it. And yourself?”

“I don’t really help people,” she said, then shook her head. The motion loosed her hair again, and this time his eyes followed the trail of her fingertips when she traced it back over her ear.

“I mean—you meant to ask if I like the work, didn’t you? Yes, I suppose I do. Nobody else was going to do it right, why shouldn’t I?”

“Practical,” he said, and she raised one shoulder in a shrug before taking a sip from her glass.

“I guess. Stubborn, my mother would say. She’s not wrong; I am that.”

“Ah, that sounds familiar,” Cullen said, resting his elbow on his table and gesturing, “I’ve been told the same. Stubborn, pigheaded, obstinate…”

“Mulish, headstrong,” she went on, “Yeah. You too, huh?”

“To my family’s eternal frustration,” he agreed.

#emmaera lavellan #cullen rutherford #to be clear: i didn't write any of this to post and i still don't intend to post it in its entirety #but i am cool with sharing this much #because cullen doing his best to help people and Dr. Emma #thanks for asking c:

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shivunin · 8 months

Text

Collected DAI Ficlets

Below are links to all of my Dragon Age: Inquisition ficlets on tumblr. They are organized by type/chronological order per the headings.(Longer works posted here on AO3 and cross-posted here where noted).

(If you're looking for more, here are links to my Origins and DA2 ficlets)

Please let me know if any links are broken!

Emmaera Lavellan/Cullen:

A Bond Beheld: (1,710 Words) The Commander pledges fealty to the new Inquisitor

Tipsy: (209 Words) Conversation overheard while drunk

Lavender Cakes: (236 Words) A codex entry describing a special request from the Commander; (collected with a codex entry on a marriage offer post-Inquisition and rumors circa Trespasser)

Not a Moment Sooner: (1,159 Words) Cullen wakes from a nightmare and grounds himself with the presence of his lover.

The Last Minute: (996 Words) Emma and Cullen say goodbye as the Inquisition's armies prepare to ride for the Arbor Wilds

To Build an End: (1,524 Words, Fluff) As the dust of Corypheus's destruction settles around her, Emmaera looks first for her Commander

A Letter from the Viscount: (368 Words) Varric writes to see how the Inquisitor has been, and to deliver an offer

Entanglements: (704 Words, Fluff) A quiet, simple morning in retirement

Just a Hair: (676 Words, Fluff) Emma trims Cullen’s hair

From Behind: (513 Words, Fluff) Cullen reflects on life as a father and husband

Structural Integrity: (4,300 Words, Fluff) Cullen and his daughter build a pillow fort—now all that’s left is to test it (also collected in my anthology fic here on AO3)

Letters from Adhlea: (527 Words, epistolary) While Cullen visits family in Ferelden, his daughter writes him a letter with updates.

Elowen Lavellan/Cullen

Hold Me Down: (1,206 Words) In the aftermath of Here Lies the Abyss, Cullen happens upon the Inquisitor in a vulnerable state.

Summer Tea: (897 Words) The Inquisitor takes a moment away from a party to rest on the balcony; Cullen joins her

A Sudden Squall: (1,613 Words) An abrupt storm forces Cullen and the Inquisitor into close quarters

A Storm’s Aftermath: (786 Words) Elowen tries to be normal after nearly kissing the Commander (she…doesn’t quite manage it, but neither does he)

At Your Side: (678 Words) As Elowen returns to her room in Skyhold, Leliana notices a new mannerism

Disarming: (773 Words) The Commander and Inquisitor spend a morning training

Falsehoods: (851 Words, Hurt/comfort) Elowen takes a wound in battle; Cullen visits her room at the inn to make sure she's alright

Call Your Mother: (515 Words) A letter from and to Elowen’s mother regarding her choice of beau

A Resolution: (1,086 Words) Elowen reflects on the consequences of having fallen in love with a human

Daybreak: (615 Words) After the events of Your Fate for Mine, Cullen wakes in bed with Elowen and finds himself with a small predicament.

Salshira Lavellan/Cullen

Slander: (547 Words) Codex entry detailing several complaints about the Inquisitor

The Fire at the Center: (556 Words) Cullen tries to focus on his prayers, with some difficulty

Wait: (621 Words, Fluff) Salshira passes through Cullen’s office on the way to other tasks

Fires of Battle: (846 Words) Salshira closes the last distance before the Temple of Mythal and meets the Commander on the battlefield

A Hand Outstretched: (1,510 Words, T) Salshira struggles with the lack of news from Wycome; Cullen finds her when she needs him most.

News from Wycome: (740 Words, Emotional hurt/comfort) Cullen rushes to deliver a crucial bit of news

Don’t Look Down: (448 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira regains consciousness after a nasty fall

After the Dark: (841 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira returns from the Deep Roads; she is not doing well

A Story Chosen: (2,245 Words) Cullen and Salshira's daughter asks about adventuring and heroism while they wait for Salshira to come home from the market

Adahlena Lavellan/Cullen (aka the arranged marriage au):

Pip: (2,611 Words) Adahlena Lavellan and Cullen meet for the first time in the Elvhen lands at Halamshiral

The Morning Mist: (820 Words) Cullen and Adahlena take breakfast together in the gardens

Miscellaneous Mini-Fics:

Profane (Salshira)

Winnow (Salshira)

Cliff (Emma)

Truth (Elowen), Profane (Emma), and Initiative (Salshira)

Sweet Pea (Elowen)

Witch Hazel (750 Words) Emmaera discusses her daughter's magic with Vivienne

#cullavellan #emmaera lavellan #salshira lavellan #elowen lavellan #adahlena lavellan #shivunin scrivening #dai

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shivunin · 1 year

Text

Ficlets Masterlist

A list of all my various fic etc. on tumblr, organized by pairing and internal chronological order. I've named ask memes by the general topic of the prompt and the others by title, if they have them.

(Edit: If there is an issue with a link, please let me know--I've gone through and fixed the ones I've found with issues, but they might always break again)

Arianwen Tabris/Zevran:

Only a Kiss: (1215 Words, T) Arianwen has never been kissed; Zevran offers to correct this

Without a Name: (857 Words, T) In the aftermath of their kiss, Zevran watches Tabris and considers what comes next

Liar, Liar: (459 Words, Hurt/Comfort, T) Zevran is feverish and Arianwen offers care

Hart of Hearts: (535 Words, Fluff, T); A moment in the Brecilian Forest, briefly before they decide to be together

Saccharine: The night Zevran and Tabris decide to be together; full AO3 fic here (explicit)

And Eat It, Too: (1,257 Words, T)Arianwen admires cakes in the city; Zevran makes sure she gets what she wants

Scars: (539 Words, M) Wen notices a scar that Zevran will not discuss.

Look At Me: (this and The Last Thread are collected into one fic on AO3 here) (973 Words, Hurt/Comfort, M) Wen leaves the Deep Roads with a bad infection, haunted by the ghosts of all who’ve died along the way.

The Last Thread and the Long Drop: (3.171 Words, Hurt/comfort, M); Arianwen is wounded. Zevran can only watch as she is sewn back together.

From the Depths: (1,321 Words, T) Zevran delivers a piece of good news after Arianwen spends a week recuperating in Orzammar

Rest Now: (1,631 Words, Hurt/Comfort, M) Post-return to the alienage, Zevran urges Tabris to put down her blades and let herself rest

Fang and Thorn: (883 Words, T) Arianwen decides what to do with her mother’s dagger

Breath of Life: (3,658 Words, M) Zevran confronts Taliesen and nearly loses his life in the process; Arianwen grapples with the idea of losing him forever; explicit version on AO3 here

Have This Dance: (928 Words, Fluff, T) Zevran and Wen find a moment of respite on the palace rooftop in Denerim

Vincit Omnes: (1,049 Words, T) Arianwen and Zevran finally admit they love each other.

Breaking News: (297 Words) A reporter attempts to discuss the Temple of Sacred Ashes with the Warden-Commander and the researcher who located the place

The Heart Grown Fonder: (1,133 Words, T) Letters between Arianwen and Zevran about how they’re doing apart.

Regarding Spiders and Caves: (403 Words) A letter from Arianwen to Zevran regarding current events at the keep

Reunion: (1,528 Words, M) Zevran comes back from his travels; Arianwen plays a game

A Letter from Kirkwall: (506 Words, T) Zevran re: his absence from Amaranthine, set immediately after his role in Act Three of DA2

Lock and Key: (2,298 Words, Hurt/comfort, M); Zevran is captured by the Crows and tortured. Arianwen frees him.

A Red, Red Rose: (1,952 Words, Fluff, T) A wedding scene

Dawn and Gold: (905 Words, Fluff, T) Tabris helps Zevran get ready for the day

Maria Hawke/Fenris:

Lend a Hand: (965 Words, T) When Hawke is struggling with an injury, Fenris offers some assistance with the pain

A Fond Farewell: (2,548 Words) Hawke is fond of casual touches and long goodbyes; Fenris tries to understand why he likes this about her

The Small Hours: (1,496 Words, Fluff) Fenris comes to Hawke's manor to read, but he stays because he doesn’t want to stop listening to her.

As Two Reflected Stars: (12,438 Words, Hurt/Comfort/ T) (AO3 Link) No matter how close Fenris and Hawke come to each other, they never quite seem to connect—unless one of them is already hurt or bleeding. (An exploration of healing as a proxy for affection/touch)

Do You Want to Hear a Joke?: (1,459 Words, Angst) Fenris helps a drunken Hawke home shortly after her mother’s death. Hawke tries to prove that she isn’t in love with him.

Grief and Memory: (1,493 Words, Angst) Hawke is stricken by a memory of her mother during a night at the Hanged Man; Fenris cannot offer her comfort.

An Interview for Posterity: (449 Words) Kirkwall's chronicler tries to make sense of the events surrounding the Viscount's death

To the Last Drop: (1,682 Words, this one is all yearning) Fenris observes Hawke closely on an excursion to the coast

A Fool and His Gold: (1,932 Words, Fluff/more yearning) Hawke throws Fenris a surprise party

Between Strokes of Night: (2,601 Words, fluff) The second night together; full version (explicit) on AO3 here

Poppy Red: (1,273 Words, Fluff) Hawke and Fenris experience their first date

At the Dead Drop: (624 Words, epistolary) A series of letters between Hawke, Carver, and Fenris regarding Hawke’s relationship with Fenris

Know When to Hold ‘Em: (792 Words, Fluff) The first night of cards after Fenris and Hawke decide to be together

Flow Gently: (1,036 Words, Fluff) Fenris talks Hawke to sleep

Nooks and Crannies: (1,164 Words, Fluff) Hawke shows Fenris where she's hidden the weapons in her home

Stack the Deck: (1,310 Words, Fluff) Hawke bolts after a card game and a puzzled Fenris follows her back to the manor

Corpus Animaque: (1,138 Words, Fluff) After Hawke falls asleep, Fenris continues to speak to her in Tevene, knowing that she could not understand him even if she could hear him.

Wake Easy: (555 Words, Fluff) Fenris feigns sleep so Hawke can kiss him awake.

Winter's Grasp: (4,834 Words, Hurt/comfort) (AO3 link) Hawke takes an unnecessary risk in Lowtown; after they return to her manor, Fenris tries to discern why

Pour Forth: (3,830 Words) (AO3 link) Hawke makes the same misplaced joke across the span of her relationship with Fenris. He does not, in fact, cry about it. (Or, five times Hawke tells Fenris it's okay to cry and one time she doesn't.)

Ebb and Flow: (705 Words, Hurt/comfort) Hawke is having trouble resting; Fenris helps her to bed

Ash and Salt: (798 Words, hurt/comfort) After the destruction of Kirkwall, Fenris finds Hawke and offers what comfort he can.

If Sorrow I Let In: (1,344 Words, Hurt/Comfort) Hawke has a nightmare about almost dying in the Fade. Fenris is there when she wakes

A Letter From Home: (403 Words) Letter resting on a counter in a cottage near Amaranthine, as yet unopened, dated nearly six months ago

*Sleight of Hand: (7,734 Words) (AO3 Link) Magician AU: Hawke is a stage magician who's never asked much about her grumpy assistant. When Fenris spots his pursuers during a show, it may be time for the two of them to face the likelihood that this may be his very last performance.

Emmaera Lavellan/Cullen:

A Bond Beheld: (1,710 Words) The Commander pledges fealty to the new Inquisitor

Tipsy: (209 Words) Conversation overheard while drunk

Lavender Cakes: (236 Words) A codex entry describing a special request from the Commander; (collected with a codex entry on a marriage offer post-Inquisition and rumors circa Trespasser)

A Letter from the Viscount: (368 Words) Varric writes to see how the Inquisitor has been, and to deliver an offer

Entanglements: (704 Words, Fluff) A quiet, simple morning in retirement

Just a Hair: (676 Words, Fluff) Emma trims Cullen’s hair

From Behind: (513 Words, Fluff) Cullen reflects on life as a father and husband

Structural Integrity: (4,300 Words, Fluff) Cullen and his daughter build a pillow fort—now all that’s left is to test it (also collected in my anthology fic here on AO3)

Letters from Adhlea: (527 Words, epistolary) While Cullen visits family in Ferelden, his daughter writes him a letter with updates.

Elowen Lavellan/Cullen

Summer Tea: (897 Words) The Inquisitor takes a moment away from a party to rest on the balcony; Cullen joins her

A Storm’s Aftermath: (786 Words) Elowen tries to be normal after nearly kissing the Commander (she…doesn’t quite manage it, but neither does he)

At Your Side: (678 Words) As Elowen returns to her room in Skyhold, Leliana notices a new mannerism

Disarming: (773 Words) The Commander and Inquisitor spend a morning training

Falsehoods: (851 Words, Hurt/comfort) Elowen takes a wound in battle; Cullen visits her room at the inn to make sure she's alright

Call Your Mother: (515 Words) A letter from and to Elowen’s mother regarding her choice of beau

Daybreak: (615 Words) After the events of Your Fate for Mine, Cullen wakes in bed with Elowen and finds himself with a small predicament.

Salshira Lavellan/Cullen

Slander: (547 Words) Codex entry detailing several complaints about the Inquisitor

The Fire at the Center: (556 Words) Cullen tries to focus on his prayers, with some difficulty

Wait: (621 Words, Fluff) Salshira passes through Cullen’s office on the way to other tasks

Fires of Battle: (846 Words) Salshira closes the last distance before the Temple of Mythal and meets the Commander on the battlefield

News from Wycome: (740 Words, Emotional hurt/comfort) Cullen rushes to deliver a crucial bit of news

Don’t Look Down: (448 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira regains consciousness after a nasty fall

After the Dark: (841 Words, Hurt/comfort) Salshira returns from the Deep Roads; she is not doing well

Adahlena Lavellan/Cullen (aka the arranged marriage au):

Pip: (2,611 Words) Adahlena Lavellan and Cullen meet for the first time in the Elvhen lands at Halamshiral

The Morning Mist: (820 Words) Cullen and Adahlena take breakfast together in the gardens

Misc:

Hounds and Strays: (4,521 Words, T) A young Arianwen tries to protect a stray dog and fails; as an adult, Alistair realizes they share a connection to animals (the first thing they have in common)

Something to Cry About: (954 words, G) Following the events at Redcliffe, Arianwen begrudgingly admits that she might be friends with Alistair.

Shut-Eye: (996 words, G) Arianwen and Alistair discuss happiness on a sleepy night before the fire.

#my writing #maria hawke #arianwen tabris #emmaera lavellan #elowen lavellan #salshira lavellan #adahlena lavellan #i just *clenches fist* love organization!#mainly made this to stick in the pinned post #when i tell you i *did not realize* how many of these i was writing #hoo boy #shivunin scrivening

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