#heartowrito fanfic
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hrghgh okay this is long as shit so i’ll be uploading it in parts as i finish (i actually have several parts like immediately done but whatever. i might post them immediately after this idk) SO UMM i want to like clarify some stuff first! because im a jerk and i didn’t do it in text lol
Its a soul mate au for Dragon Age! featuring my Inquisitors and my friend’s! So im a loser and really into soul mate aus so in this particular one, basically when people are kids they get words on their arm that are the first words their soul mate ever says to them, and the words disappear when you meet them. CHEESY but its one of my fav soul mate AUs i ever saw so im using that.
so. only one of the Inquisitors is actually Inquisitor in this, the rest soooort of take the place of companions kind of?? I actually did put a lot of thought into who it would be so...It wasn’t chosen at random or anything! Also, if any characterization of your Inquisitors is wrong TELL ME! I am more than happy to rewrite things! In fact I would love to do so! i have so much fun writing for our Inquisitors that tbh i would be perfectly happy to change things to make sure i get it right!
theres also a lot of time skips in this. sometimes they aren’t clear. This is a rough draft! I have to go in and change how much time passes in certain parts, and also change up the tense. I wrote a lot of it in present tense but sometimes i slip into past (i tried to make it like, when characters are thinking, its past, when its actions, its present, which is not at all proper BUT LMFAO i was experimenting and trying to get in some present tense practice so idk it was fun!)
anyway hi. btw when i say its long as shit, i mean it.
The Trevelyan sisters are still just little girls when their markings show up.
Huddled beside the fireplace, Lana and Ariadne roll up their sleeves, exposing their forearms to the glow of the flames. Their parents stand in the doorway, eyes soft and smiles gentle as they watch their daughters giggle and compare the newly printed words on their skin.
“Hm...At least its not 'Hello'.” Lana muses, running her small finger along the length of her arm. “I was really worried. Mother says Aunt Lucille's soulmate mark was just 'Nice to meet you', and it took her nearly four years to figure out Uncle was meant for her.” She holds her arm up just a little higher, speaking the words on her arm slowly. “'Is it? I hope they're right about you'...I wonder what I'm right about!”
Lana erupts into another fit of giggles, and Ariadne can't help but release a sigh of relief as she looks at her own arm. She's just glad she has one at all.
“Mine says...'Perhaps you can talk some sense into her then.'” Ariadne tilts her head slightly as she speaks. “Interesting.”
“'Interesting'? That's it?” Lana feigns outrage, pulling her sister's arm closer to her face to inspect the words with a grin. “Its so specific! Mine is too though, we're very lucky, I think.”
“Lucky indeed, but its time for bed, girls.” Their mother finally says from her spot in the doorway. Lana opens her mouth to protest, but their mother gives her The Look, and continues on. “You'll have all the time in the world to gossip about your marks.”
Reluctantly, the girls rise to their feet, little hands clasped together as they follow after their mother. They whisper about what they hope their soulmate is like as they make their way down the hall, heads ducked low and hands raised to their mouths to hush one another's laughter.
For the next year of their life, the marks are a frequent topic of conversation, as the girls wonder and daydream about where and how they'll meet their future partners. Ariadne pictures a life growing up with her sister, being the first to hear the news when her sister finally meets whoever's words are on her skin.
Her magic manifests just two years after the arrival of their marks, and two months after that she's made to leave home, and spend what she assumes will be the rest of her life in the Circle. Lana and her write to one another, with the topic of soulmates dying out after her third year away from home.
-------
Ashala and Adahlen are just two of the many Clan Lavellan children who discover their marks on the same day.
Ashala stares down at her arm, like sheer willpower alone would make the words change. 'Greetings. My name is--' but it just stops there. It could be worse, she knows that deep down, but that doesn't change the fact she can feel tears beginning to sting at the corners of her eyes. She wants to know the name. That would make it so much easier...Why did they cut themselves off? What if something terrible happens to them when she finally finds them?
Beside her, Adahlen seems completely oblivious to her distress, and is looking down at his own arm with a knitted brow. “Mine just says 'Dragon!'...” The young elf suddenly pales. “Oh no. Do you think my soulmate is a dragon?”
Adahlen's brother—still too young to receive a mark of his own, yet old enough to not want to be left out of the loop, rolls his eyes. “Dragons can't talk. Why would a dragon shout 'dragon' at you anyway?”
Adahlen glares at him, but he visibly relaxes.
“Maybe,” The younger sibling continues. “Its a warning. Maybe you get eaten by a dragon when you meet them.”
Just like that, Adahlen tenses again, but the sibling's strange back and forth was enough to make Ashala giggle, and lighten her spirits.
After the initial excitement of the markings die down, the Lavellan clan children go their separate ways, except for Ashala and Adahlen, who linger beside the halla pen.
“You didn't say what yours was.” Adahlen notes with a hint of curiosity. “I bet its something embarrassing, isn't it? Was it as bad as Taren's said? I've never seen his face that red before.”
“No, it's...” Ashala clasps her hand over her arm, teeth worrying into her bottom lip. “Nothing like that. Its just a little strange, that's all.” When Adahlen raises his eyebrows at her, she shows off her mark with a resigned sigh.
“...That's hilarious.”
Ashala scoffs at him.
“No, not in a bad way! I mean, thinking about it is funny, isn't it? You meet your soulmate and they can't even get their name out. Isn't it fun to think about what they're interrupted by? Could be anything.”
“But what if its something bad?” Ashala looks down at her arm again. “What if...I don't know. Something goes wrong? You're right, it could be anything.”
“Anything. Sooo...why focus on the bad stuff? Maybe they can't finish their sentence because they trip, simple as that. Or maybe you talk to them first, and they're so nervous about meeting their soulmate they...throw up on their shoes, or something.” Adahlen grins at her, and Ashala can't help but smile in return.
“Creators, I hope not.” She giggles. “But...I guess,” Ashala eyes Adahlen slyly, “That's better than them being eaten by a dragon.” At that, Adahlen gasps, and although the two of them try very hard, they can't contain their laughter.
The two children spend a few more minutes discussing their future soulmates, before the Keeper calls Ashala away for training.
Over the years, the two come up with many more theories behind the words on their arm.
-----
Lana's head is swimming.
The dull throbbing pain she had awoken to had faded, but her hands were nearly numb with cold, and the bright green mark on her palm would send occasional stings through the entire arm. She shudders, mind still reeling as it desperately attempts to catch up to the situation at hand. She hardly notices another person has joined her newly formed entourage.
Cassandra seems to know the blond man who approaches, but Lana hardly pays him any mind. She's too busy staring down at her hand, at the glow that slices through her palm. It still feels unreal, like she'll wake up at any moment and find herself at home, waking up just before her trip to the conclave, when things had been normal...Or at least, a single thread of normal, among the tapestry of absolute chaos Thedas had become.
Lana vaguely processes that Cassandra has singled Lana out. Closing the rifts was hers, 'the prisoner's', doing.
“Is it? I hope they're right about you.” The man--Cullen--says. “We've lost a lot of people getting you here.”
Lana forces a thin smile to her face. “Well, that makes two of us then, doesn't it?”
There is little time for chatter after that. Lana finds no respite until after the fight against the Pride Demon, when she wakes up in a strange little cottage. From there she's ushered to the chantry, where her world continues to be thrown upside down. The mark on her hand, the Inquisition, the rift...It's all too much.
Its not until nearly a week after the incident at the conclave that Lana realizes her mark is gone. She's rolled up her sleeves to run through some training exercises with the soldiers (one activity that gives her a semblance of normalcy), when she sees her forearm is blank, the words she had stared at nearly every day since she was 9 years old suddenly gone.
Her training partner knocks her to the ground, and Lana doesn't get up, mind racing as she tries to remember all the conversations she's had with the dozens and dozens of new people she's met in the past week.
Cullen, she finally realizes. Her first conversation with Cullen. She'd been so busy being the 'Herald', she hadn't noticed...Did he know yet? Had he realized?
Lana accepts the soldier's hand, and pulls herself to her feet. She immediately scans the training grounds for Cullen, only to see him already staring at her. Another soldier is talking to him, but she's too far away to hear.
She is, however, close enough to see Cullen's face redden as their eyes meet. Close enough to watch him fumble and drop the stack of papers he had been handed. Definitely close enough to watch him scramble to pick up the papers, turn around, and flee up the stairs towards the chantry, while the soldier left behind scratches his head in confusion.
He definitely knew.
-----
The conclave had been a disaster in the most literal sense, yet Ariadne had managed to walk away from it not only unscathed, but with a new friend.
She had arrived with her Circle, and left with the only other survivor she had seen, an elven girl by the name of Ashala, who had gone with a few members of her clan. The chaos at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been...unimaginable. The strange green gashes in the sky, that spit out an endless supply of demons...it felt like something the templars would have made up to scare mages into behaving. Stay in the Circle, or the sky itself will split apart because of you, naughty mages.
Ariadne was sure she had survived only by running—quite literally—into Ashala, who had been nearly as terrified and disoriented as her. The two mages had fought their way out of the temple together, and after not being able to find any of the parties they had arrived with, decided it would be safer to put off parting ways.
They put it off for days, then weeks, then a month, as the girls wandered the Hinterlands, and avoided the templars together. Ashala should have been safe from them, but the templars camping along the roads didn't seem to care if a mage was Dalish or not, as the two girls had discovered the hard way. They had escaped, however, and now tread a bit more carefully through the woods.
“I think we can reach Redcliffe by tomorrow.” Ashala smooths the map out along the ground in front of the fire Ariadne was attempting to tend to. “We're somewhere around here, so if we get up early, and don't make any stops, we could get there before sundown.”
“Thank the Maker.” Ariadne sighs, leaning back onto her heels now that the fire was steady. “We can get more supplies before we keep going north.”
Ashala nods, and for an hour the girls sit in a comfortable silence with one another. It isn't until the flickering of the fire casts light onto Ashala's arm that Ariadne breaks the silence.
“You've still got your mark...Is it weird that I was worried about meeting them at the conclave? I didn't talk to anyone while I was there.”
Ashala turns to look at her. “I don't think its weird. Nobody was expecting it to go as badly as it did but...I don't think many of us thought it'd end well, either.”
“I was so worried about it being a mage from another Circle. If things went badly, I never would have gotten to see them again...But my mark's still here. I suppose I've still got a chance to meet them.”
“I'd say you have a better chance now than you would have before, wouldn't you? You're not stuck in one Circle anymore. They could be anywhere out here.”
“It feels silly, doesn't it? What happened at the conclave, us just trying to make it back to the Free Marches...yet I keep thinking about my soulmate. I've got much more important things to be doing.”
Ashala laughs, and pulls a blanket out of her pack. She nestles down besides the fire, the flames flickering in the reflection of her eyes. “Its silly, but silly can be good. I'd rather feel silly than hopeless...We should sleep though. We need to be up early to get to Redcliffe tomorrow.”
Ariadne hums her agreement, and after a few more minutes of silent contemplation, she drifts to sleep.
------
Lana had only returned to Redcliffe to grab a few supplies needed for Skyhold repairs, but the sight of the lake and the cool air wafting off of it was a welcome change from the heights of Skyhold, beautiful as it may be. Weeks of overseeing rampart repairs and breaking up arguments over just how many pots the garden really needed, could certainly make even a fortress begin to feel cramped. It was nice to be at sea-level again.
She hadn't come alone, of course. Now that she was Inquisitor, it would just be too dangerous to wander about on her own, she was far too important. Not, however, important enough to avoid manual labor, or personally picking every single elfroot in the Hinterlands for the garden back at Skyhold.
Vivienne, Varric, and Sera had all accompanied her, a party that she had regretted nearly the moment they had left the gates. Sera and Vivienne could hardly be expected to be civil to one another for more than thirty seconds at a time, with today apparently being an especially bad day, as they couldn't even make it five.
Now the four of them stood on Redcliffe's docks, bags full of plants and minerals Lana couldn't be bothered to scour the hillsides for herself. Its uncharacteristically quiet for her group, but she figures that Vivienne and Sera have finally run out of insults for one another. It only took them fourteen hours.
Sera finally breaks the silence, not with insults towards Vivienne, but to stand beside Lana as she overlooks the lake, and offer her a sly grin.
“You avoided Cullen when we left.” She says.
“I didn't.” Lana replies.
“Did too. I saw it. You two looked right at each other, didn't say anything, then left. Cullen nearly fell down the stairs.”
“The soldiers caught him.”
“Yeah. So whats wrong? Why are the lovey-dovey soul mates not talking?”
Lana pinches the bridge of her nose. “We keep trying to talk about it but its just...Its weird. I hardly know him at all, but I know I'm supposed to be with him.”
“What, you don't like him?”
“No, that's not it. I like him a lot. When we do talk, hes very sweet. He just gets weird when I bring up the soul mate thing, then he always finds an excuse to leave. I'm the Inquisitor, you think I'd be the busy one, but Cullen can make anything into an emergency.”
“Ha.”
“Its not funny!”
“It is.”
“Alright, sometimes its a little funny. I just don't know why he's so nervous. We already know we're each other's soul mate, that cat left the bag awhile ago—the bag is in absolute shreds. I just want to talk to him about it without him getting up to leave, or spitting up on his shoes.”
“Lana?” Both Sera and Lana lift their gazes from the lake, turning with mirrored curious looks to see who had called out to the Inquisitor.
Lana stares at the two girls standing on the dock, one human, one elven, both with red hair. The human girl's hair was a much brighter shade of orange, framing her freckled face and her wide blue eyes that were beginning to water.
There was no way.
After the conclave, Lana had refused to believe her sister had been among the casualties. She had given Leliana a description of her sister and begged the spymaster to find her, because she had to be out there somewhere still. Lana wouldn't let herself think otherwise, no matter how many times Leliana returned to her empty handed. She couldn't believe her sister was dead, but over time, she had begun to lose hope of the possibility of ever seeing her again.
The red-haired woman in front of her—Ariadne, her sister, opens her mouth to speak again, but Lana rushes to her, pulling her in for the tightest hug she could manage. Ariadne wheezes at the sudden contact, but quickly squeezes Lana just as hard.
“What are you doing here?” Ariadne says, her voice wavering.
“Me? What are you doing here?” Lana huffs out a laugh. “I don't even care. I'm just so glad you're okay. I thought I'd never get to see you again. After all the Circles...I just didn't think I'd ever find you.” She finally pulls away, but she keeps her hands on her sister's shoulders, studying her at arms length. “Are you alright? Your clothes are so dirty! And whats that scratch on your face from?” She glances at her sister's companion, who is looking a touch uncomfortable to suddenly be scrutinized by both Lana, and Lana's friends who are all still lingering on the dock, who watch with expressions in different stages of 'befuddled'. “Who is this?”
“This is Ashala. We ran into each other at the conclave. I don't think I would have survived without her help.”
“Oh. Well then, thank you, Ashala.” Lana says sincerely. Ashala squeaks out something unintelligible in response, nods, then quickly averts her gaze again. Lana doesn't push her for more—Ariadne was shy around strangers too. She knew when to back off.
“Lana, what are you doing in Redcliffe though? I thought for sure you'd be back home. I was going to make my way there, we could have just barely missed each other.”
Lana blinks, now hit with the realization that Ariadne has no idea about this messy Inquisitor business. “Its...a very long story, Ariadne. I've got a camp set up, how about I tell you on the way there? Your friend should come too...”
-----
When Ashala had decided she and Ariadne should stick together, she wasn't sure exactly how things would end up. She had assumed they would travel together until they reached the Free Marches, then go their separate ways in search of their families. Of all the possible outcomes to their fateful meeting, she certainly hadn't pictured winding up at an old fortress, with Ariadne's sister leading a literal army, to be one of them. It wasn't really even on the list.
She was grateful nonetheless, even if she felt terribly out of place in Skyhold. After they camped outside Redcliffe and heard Lana's tale, they had made for the mountains immediately. The air was much thinner than she was used to, but she'd learn to deal with it.
Ashala was overjoyed for Ariadne, she really was, but she did miss her company. Ariadne had spent the last few days trailing after Lana, while Ashala mostly stood around feeling and looking rather awkward. She'd eventually made herself cozy in the library, where she met a few member's of Lana's Inquisition—Dorian, in particular, who was quite nice, and despite how nervous and out of sorts she was feeling, he could still get a chuckle out of her now and then.
The rest of Lana's friends had been out running errands for her, so aside from the advisers and the trio she had met back in Redcliffe, Ashala and Ariadne were both still waiting to be introduced to the rest of the essential members of the Inquisition.
Ashala was currently passing her time in the library, nose buried in a book. She glances up over the top of it just as Lana pokes her head into the library, beckoning Ashala over once she catches sight of her curled up in a plush chair.
“There you are! Should have figured,” Lana grins at her, and Ashala offers a much softer smile in return. “The rest of the gang is back. I sent them to look for stuff in the Fallow Mire, so they're all just a tiny bit crabby I think, but come on, I'll introduce you.”
“What about Ariadne?”
“Oh. I accidentally let slip that I've got the arcanist working on something, and she left to go check it out. I'll grab her in a minute, but come on.”
She was a little reluctant to leave her chair and book behind, but Ashala slowly unfurls herself from her seat, and sets the book gently onto the table beside her. Lana gives her another smile, and although her enthusiasm couldn't be called 'infectious', it does help ease Ashala's nerves, just a little.
They don't have to go very far before the first bit of introductions were to be made. The two girls merely go a single floor down, to the rotunda that had been empty during Ashala's initial stay here. Now it containes a single occupant, who was standing on a wooden scaffold, paint brush in hand, staring intently at the wall.
“Welcome back.” Lana says. The elven man on the scaffold glances down at them at first, but then turns to regard them directly when he sees Lana has someone with her.
His hello takes the form of a simple “Inquisitor.”, and a nod.
“We've got some new guests. My sister and her friend.” She pats Ashala on the back. “This one is the friend. Her name is Ashala.”
“Greetings. My name is--”
He doesn't get the chance to finish, as an interruption in the form of an absolute cacophony of bird shrieks erupts from above them. All three crane their gaze up towards the spymaster's third floor, where crows flit about, and dive down towards them.
Sera runs out from the stairway soon after. “Didn't do it!” She claims as she sprints past them, Leliana hot on her heels.
Its chaos after that, agents running this way and that, trying to corral the birds back into cages. The painter from before has come down off the scaffold, and is busy trying to pry a bit of parchment from a bird's beak.
Ashala is ushered away from the scene of the crime, and is given introductions to the rest of Lana's team, but she doesn't process any of it. Her mind is still back on the man with the paintbrush, of his words to her, his unfinished introduction. She still doesn't know his name, but she knows who he is now. Ashala knows that when she next rolls up her sleeves to look at her arm, the words she had spent her whole life pondering over will no longer be there.
Once she had met everyone, Lana says her goodbye, then leaves Ashala alone with her thoughts in the library. Her face is still flushed with embarrassment, and excitement, and although she already knows what will be there—or won't be there, Ashala pulls up her sleeve to look down at her arm anyway. She can feel her heartbeat in her throat when nothing but bare skin is underneath the fabric.
-----
“Tomorrow I want you to meet everyone then.” Lana says, chin resting in her palm, her elbow against the arm of the chair she's pulled up next to the fireplace.
Ariadne is seated on the other chair beside her, practically mirroring her sister. “Of course. Sorry, I just got kind of carried away. Your arcanist is amazing.”
“Amazing, hm?” Lana wiggles her eyebrows.
“Not like that!” Ariande laughs. “I admire her, but not in that sort of way. Besides, my marks still here, and I exchanged plenty of words with her.”
Lana moves her gaze to the fireplace. “I met mine.”
“Your...? Oh!” Ariadne leans in close. “You did?! When? Who? Just recently? Awhile ago?”
“Temple of Sacred Ashes. Cullen. Just after the conclave.”
Ariadne stares at her. Lana has no clue what else she should say. Cullen was an ex-templar after all, maybe Ariadne wouldn't approve. Lana couldn't make them get along, she wouldn't even try, because that wouldn't be fair to her sister, but--
“Cullen? The blond sweaty one?”
“Sweaty?!”
“Every time we went to talk to him, he'd sweat like Andraste herself had descended from the sky and told him she didn't like his attitude. I honestly thought perhaps he's been grievously ill all this time, Lana. It makes much more sense now.”
“Oh. Well. Yes. The blond sweaty one.”
“So...how is it?”
“Hows what?”
“I don't know. Whatever happens when you meet your soul mate, I suppose.”
“We...haven't talked about it much. He gets a little weird when I bring it up.”
“Hence the sweat.”
“Yes. I don't know, Ariadne, maybe he doesn't like me? Maybe that's why he's so uncomfortable with all of this. I didn't even think it was possible to not like your soul mate, but what if I'm just the exception to that? What if he's so upset that I'm his soul mate that he can't deal with--”
“Lana I think its probably the opposite? He's likely just anxious.” Ariadne leans back into her chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “Like... he meets this girl, his soul mate, and she's also the Herald of Andraste? Maybe...Don't bring it up anymore. At least for awhile?”
“Are you sure that's a good idea?”
“No.” Ariadne shrugs. “But it makes sense, don't you think? If you're soul mates, you'll always be soul mates, even if you don't talk about it. You're meant to be together, so maybe get to know each other first. Then everything will fall into place.”
“Aw.” Lana reaches over and ruffles Ariadne's hair, her sister letting out an indignant squawk as she did so. “You know just what to say to make me feel better. You always do.”
------
Ariadne had spent the morning in the library with Ashala, who seemed more quiet than usual. She had been perfectly polite of course, greeting Ariadne with a smile, and a pat against the empty chair beside her to welcome Ariadne's company, but hadn't said anything further.
Ariadne was curious, but wouldn't pry into Ashala's affairs unless she was invited to. If something had happened, Ashala would tell her in time.
They read in silence most of the morning, until Ariadne began to grow restless, thinking that Lana would have come to get her to introduce her to the rest of the team by now. Ashala had already gotten the grand tour—which, now that she thought about it, might be the reason her friend was so quiet. Perhaps the rest of Lana's friends were...not great?
She excuses herself, offering a goodbye to Ashala before returning her book to the shelf, and descends the stairs to hunt down her sister. Her days in Skyhold had yet to be enough to really give her any sense of direction in the place, and Ariadne ends up wandering through the halls, finding the kitchen, the garden, the stairs up to Lana's room, and even winds up going through Cullen's office (where the two of them awkwardly nod at one another before Cullen flees from his own room), until finally Ariadne finds herself in the courtyard's training area.
Lana was there, luckily, talking to a tall woman with dark hair cut short to her head. Perhaps 'talking' wasn't the proper word for it, since both of their faces were contorted into scowls—with the woman Ariadne didn't recognize having a much more impressive one.
“Inquisitor, its not that easy.”
“I didn't say it would be easy.” Lana retorts. “That doesn't change the fact I think it needs to be done. Or do you still not believe what I saw?”
“I read the report, Inquisitor, I believe you. That does not mean we should--”
“Cassandra, I've talked to the blacksmith and Dagna, they both agree that its the strongest--”
“I'm aware of the strength of dragon scales, but the dangers outweigh any potential--”
“--So if we can just get even a little bit of dragon scale or bone, we could craft weapons to give us the advantage! I think its worth it, Cassandra. You and I have fought demons countless times, we both know how strong some of them can be. I saw that future Corypheus created back in Redcliffe, I want any edge we can get.”
The woman Lana was arguing with—Cassandra, apparently--throws her arms up in the air with a frustrated sigh. “So we risk our life, your life, for this? Slaying a dragon isn't--”
“Haven't you already done it?”
“Which is exactly why you should listen to me!”
Lana was ready with an argument, Ariadne could see it on her face., but her sister's mouth snaps shut at the sight of Ariadne lingering just a few feet away. There is a moment of tense silence, where Lana and Cassandra quietly fume and glare at each other, but eventually Lana waves Ariadne over.
“Cassandra, this is my sister, Ariadne. Ariadne, this is Cassandra.” Lana says through clenched teeth.
Cassandra looks Ariadne up and down, before sighing. “Perhaps you can talk some sense into her then.”
Ariadne's spine goes rigid. Lana doesn't seem to notice, and barrels ahead to resume her argument. “Really? Cassandra, you can stay here then. I'm going after a dragon, we need the materials, but I don't need your help to do it.” Lana pats Ariadne on the back. “Ari, come find me in the tavern. I'll introduce you to Bull.”
Lana leaves after that, and with the way she had worded things, Ariadne assumes she does not intend for her to follow right away, and needs time to cool off.
Which leaves Ariadne standing alone in the courtyard with the woman her sister had just been arguing with. A woman who was apparently her soul mate. Ariadne didn't spend days in the Circle staring wistfully at the words on her arm just to forget them now.
“I apologize. This was not very becoming of me. Your sister...She's a good leader. I do not want you to assume I disrespect her decisions, I just...”
“Question them?” Ariadne finishes.
Cassandra nods, then her eyes suddenly light with an understanding that Ariande was sure had been flickering on her own face just moments before. “Oh! You--”
“Yes. Um...”
Cassandra seems to have been just as aware of her own markings as Ariadne had been. She steps a little closer, and for just a split second Ariadne is sure she's going to go for a hug, but Cassandra sticks out her hand instead.
Ariadne takes it lightly, and shakes. She giggles a little, feeling like they're sealing a deal, agreeing to some sort of contract instead of meeting their soul mates.
“I'm Cassandra Pentaghast. I should have introduced myself properly earlier, rather than wait for the Inquisitor to do so.”
“Its fine! Please don't worry about it. Um...Well, Lana already said so but, ah, I'm Ariadne. Its very nice to meet you, Cassandra.”
They fall silent, but their hands remain in one another's grasp. Ariadne isn't sure how its possible, but this meeting is managing to be both more awkward than she had imagined, but far better than she had predicted. She's uncomfortable, but in her usual sort of way that she is around strangers. Yet there is this underlying feeling in the pit of her stomach, a spark of understanding that yes, this is her soul mate, she doesn't even know her, but Ariadne already loves her. Or she will. She knows she will.
“Lana is waiting for you so...” Cassandra is looking down at their hands.
“Oh. Right.” Ariadne still doesn't let go. Some spell might be broken once she does.
“We can talk about this later.” Cassandra says it, but Ariadne can detect a hint of hopefulness in her voice. She's asking for permission, this isn't a statement.
“Yes. Of course.” Ariadne replies, and both of them relax, finally letting their hands fall back to their sides. Cassandra nods at her as she turns to leave, and although Ariadne is still excited to meet the rest of Lana's friends, she's pretty sure none of them will top this one.
-----
Ashala ends up going along with Lana to find a dragon. After hearing the rundown of the argument from Ariadne, Ashala and her brainstorm a way to get supplies the safest way possible. There was no way for it to be entirely danger-free, but the two of them had come up with a plan to possibly get at least a small amount of scales without confronting a dragon at all.
A large portion of the Hinterlands was dragon territory, one that was predominantly active during the day. If they camped out on the outskirts the night before, they could possibly make it to the nest early in the morning, when the dragon was out hunting. If they were lucky, perhaps the dragon would leave a few shed scales behind.
Ashala was not prepared, mentally, to fight a dragon, but she had jumped at the chance to go when Ariadne said she would be accompanying her sister on this ridiculous task—she kept the ridiculous bit to herself, but she really did think going out of their way to trek through dragon territory was a phenomenally bad idea, even with their plan in place.
So it was her, Ariadne, Lana, and Lana's friend Iron Bull who set out to the Hinterlands a few weeks after the plans had been made. Iron Bull was another of Lana's friends that Ashala already liked—He was a little crass, yes, but funny at times, and willing to keep conversations going even after Ashala and Ariadne ran out of practiced niceties to say. He and Lana led the group, chatting to each other once the two mages had become obviously exhausted by conversation.
Ashala's time with the Inquisition was now numbering at roughly two months. In that time she had gone on a few missions with Lana, and had spent some time with all of her friends by this point. A few, she got along better than others, but she didn't dislike any of them, not really.
She had yet to talk to Solas. At all. She wasn't sure what to say, and was worried too much time had passed. It had started out as her just wanting to think of something good to say to him, since it would be the words that define her as his soul mate, but all that time stressing had led her to putting it off for weeks, and now here she was, nearly two months after meeting him, and still had yet to say a single word. He'd probably be so upset with her, wouldn't he?
Ashala had plenty of opportunities, too. Lana had brought the both of them on missions together, yet Ashala still couldn't bring herself to say anything. Lana had stopped putting them on teams with one another altogether, likely under the impression that they didn't get along.
Her self loathing followed her out to the Hinterlands, and stayed with her even as they made camp. Their two tents housed Iron Bull in one, and the three girls shared the other, with Ariadne lying in the middle, and Lana and Ashala on the edges. It was cramped, but oddly cozy, and it was nice to chat with the two sisters before falling asleep. It helped take her mind off things at least for a little while.
In the morning they were up before the sun, and making their way to the dragon nest. Ashala was embarrassingly jittery, jumping at every little rustle of bushes, or snapped twig.
By the time the nest was in sight, the sun was up just enough to cast the valley in a pink glow.
“This would be pretty, if I wasn't expecting a dragon to swoop down and eat us.” Lana comments. Iron Bull snorts in response.
“We...aren't the first ones here?” Ariadne sounds astounded, and Ashala follows her line of sight up towards the nest itself. There is one lone figure up there, crouched down and examining something in the dirt. There's a bow strapped to their back, and for a moment, Ashala tenses, wondering if they were in for a fight if the stranger was feeling particularly territorial about whatever spoils the dragon left behind.
When they stand upright, and turn around to regard the group below, Ashala gasps, and the elf up on the nest does to.
“Adahlen, what could you possibly be doing up there?” Ashala asks incredulously.
“Looking for you.” He says, then glances behind him. “Well. Not looking for you here, but I was scouting the area when I noticed the dragon leave, so I went to check it out.”
“By yourself? What if the dragon came back?”
“I didn't think that far.”
“Wait, you said you were looking for me?”
Adahlen nods. “Well, yeah. Lots of us are. After the conclave we went to the ruins to find, well, you know. Remains. But we didn't see any sign of you, not your body, or your staff. The Keeper thought you might have survived, so she's been sending out search parties all over.”
Ashala's eyes begin to sting. She had been so caught up in the Inquisition, she had forgotten all about her original goal of getting home. She hadn't even remembered to send a letter, or any kind of sign she was okay. But they'd been out here looking for her, even though its been months, because they still thought there was a chance for her to be okay...
Her stomach turns. She feels guilty. And happy. So happy, that they all cared enough to search for her even after all this time.
“I take it you two know each other?” Lana says, regarding Adahlen with uncertainty.
“Oh, yes. He's another member of Clan Lavellan, we grew up together.” Ashala answers quickly. From up at the nest, Adahlen waves. “Adahlen, this is Inquisitor Lana Trevelyan, um...Well, have you heard about--”
“Yes.” Adahlen says before she can finish. “We looked in all the major cities for you, and the Inquisitor is all anyone's talking about. So you're working for her?”
“Its kind of a long story, but yes.”
A horrendous shriek bellows from above them, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. The sound of large, flapping wings fills the air around them long before the beast soars into view.
“Dragon!” Iron Bull calls up towards Adahlen, who immediately heeds the warning and scampers down off of the nest, just barely escaping before the dragon slams down where he had been just seconds before.
He runs over to them the moment he's on level ground, bow drawn in one quick movement and aimed up at the dragon, which has its eyes trained on the five of them. Iron Bull has his ax out as well, stance screaming for a fight. Ashala is horrified and a little impressed that the qunari is actually smiling.
“Nope, no, put it all down, we are leaving,” Lana is already backing up, with Ariadne mirroring her at a much faster pace. “I planned for sneaking in there, I didn't bring enough potions, I wasn't expecting—just--just go, lets go!”
Ashala sprints after the two girls who are already fleeing the scene. Just before she's out of earshot, she hears Adahlen laugh and say to Iron Bull: “Your friends aren't much fun, are they?” but the two of them are soon following close behind her.
---------
Lana is amazed they make it out of there in one piece, but they somehow manage. The only bruises they bring back to Skyhold are on their pride.
They cross through the gates of the fortress with nothing to show for their trip—Aside from an extra person. After a little bit of discussion, they decided it would be best if Adahlen returned with them to Skyhold, where they could send word back to Clan Lavellan about what happened. Lana very pointedly does not look in Cassandra's direction, not wanting to see any sort of smug satisfaction, or worse, genuine pity. Apparently not even weeks worth of planning was enough to get dragon scales without actually fighting one.
They're greeted in the courtyard by a few soldiers, and from there, the five of them go their separate ways. Ariadne and Ashala walk side by side up the stairs, seemingly no worse for ware, since they're chattering with a surprising amount of gusto.
Iron Bull puts a hand on Adahlen's shoulder. “We've got a lot to talk about.” He says, and Adahlen laughs as he agrees. They head towards the tavern together, leaving Lana alone with her thoughts, which is the last thing she really wants to be alone with right now.
She has little time to stew before she sees Cullen walking towards her, hand on the back of his neck, a nervous tick Lana had noticed weeks ago. He rarely initiates conversations with her, so her desire for a distraction, as well as her curiosity, keeps her rooted in her place as he approaches.
“Can we talk?” He asks, and Lana nods. He leads the two of them up to the ramparts, just to the side of his office, where they look out over the mountains surrounding Skyhold. He doesn't start to speak right away, which doesn't surprise her, but she is surprised at herself for not starting up a conversation in his place like she normally would.
“I'm sorry.” He eventually sighs.
Lana looks at him. “For what?”
“I've been...a little foolish. Which Leliana and Josephine have told me many times. I've been unfair to you, avoiding you, refusing to talk about—about this.”
“No, Cullen, its fine. I know I keep pushing you, and that's not fair of me. I shouldn't force you to talk about if if you're not comfortable.”
“I do want to talk about it. I just don't know how. I think I can, but then I see you and I'm at a loss for words. I keep thinking I'm not worthy of you, that there must have been some sort of mistake.”
A little voice in the back of her mind wants to comment on how cute it is that he's blushing so hard, but she knows her face is just as red right now. “I...was worried for a long time too. That you didn't like me, or something had gone wrong, but, Cullen, I do really like you. When we talk, I always feel so much better. Anytime we spoke about strategies, or our friends, it felt so natural. I just have this idea in my head of how soul mates--” She doesn't miss the way his face flushes to an even deeper pink color the moment that word leaves her lips, “--are supposed to act, but...I'm pushing it. I want to get to know you. I want it to be real. So can we talk more? Not about what we're meant to be, but just normal conversations first? We don't have to rush it. I'm sorry for making it seem like we should.”
Cullen smiles at her, a small but sincere one, and Lana's heart skips a beat at the sight of it. “I'm sorry too. For avoiding you. But, yes, I'd like that.”
“...Can I ask though, what made you change your mind?”
She's not sure how much redder Cullen can get. “When you left to fight the dragon. I was angry. At you, at anyone who didn't stop you. The thought of you never coming back left me so empty inside...I realized I felt the same way back at Haven, when you went back out there to give us all a fighting chance. I had just met you, but I still couldn't imagine a life without you.”
Lana stares at him for a long time, struggling to think of anything to say to that confession. It was unfair, to be told such a thing, when she didn't have anything nearly as mushy in return.
She responded by burying her face into her hands, and murmuring that that was a sneaky move on his part.
-------
Adahlen had been with the Inquisition a grand total of two days, and he already forgot where the room Lana had given him to use was. He hadn't actually set foot in it since thanking Lana for her kindness, and probably would not be able to find his way back to it if you threatened him at knife point.
“Oh shit,” He murmurs. Lana. Lana was supposed to introduce him to everyone else today. She had stopped by the the tavern yesterday afternoon to tell him the rest of her friends would be back, finally all in one place again.
The light shining in through the hole in the ceiling let him know it was late morning. Lana probably went looking for him in his room, only to find it empty.
Adahlen literally rolls out of bed, uncaring of the amount of noise he made, since he knows Iron Bull is already awake—it had only taken two days to learn his soul mate was a light sleeper. “You ass. You didn't wake me up.”
“Whoops.” Iron Bull does not sound very sincere.
It takes him a few minutes to get dressed, delayed by the amount of time it takes him to find his shoes. When he's finally clothed and finds them, he's out the door, still pulling his boots up as he stumbles out onto the ramparts—he's honestly amazed that Bull's room has three doors into it.
“Oh, Adahlen, there you are!” Ashala was apparently part of the search party, as she finds him first, and jogs over to him. “You weren't in your room, we've been looking for you all morning. Are you alright? We thought something might have happened--”
“I'm fine,” He reassures her. “I was with Iron Bull.”
“This early?”
“It was late when I got there.”
He can practically hear the gears in her head turning. When it finally clicks, Ashala gasps. “Adahlen! You didn't.”
At that, he doesn't bother to suppress a grin. “I did.”
“I mean, its fine of course, I just wasn't—I didn't expect you two to get along so well so quickly!”
“Oh,” Adahlen rolls up his sleeve, showing off his blank arm. “Soul mates. Found out right after we met. We decided 'fun bits now, important discussion later'...I don't have any idea where that room Lana gave me is anymore, by the way.”
“You're not exaggerating that conversation at all, are you? Well...Congratulations, really. I'm very happy for you. Lana's still looking for you though, to introduce you to the others. Are you still up for it?”
“Yeah, lead the way.” He lets Ashala take the lead. “So...how exactly did you get wrapped up in all of this, Ashala?”
“Creators, its a long, long story.”
“Then lets walk slower.” He smiles when Ashala slows her pace, falling in to step beside him. “I'm glad you're safe. We were all really worried about you.”
“I'm glad you're here, honestly. I've made friends, but its nice to see a familiar face. Anyway, I met Ariadne first...”
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THIS..................i don’t know what this is. i just had this thought of ‘noctis drunkenly talking about how prompto is Everything to him’ and kind of rolled with it. It didn’t occur to me until afterwards that noctis is like 20 so....not sure what the drinking age is in FFXV land lol but tw for drinking/under age drinking possibly
plus idk if i can say noctis is in character since imo i get frustrated when fics portray him as Emotionless dude since thats so not him and i figured noctis + alcohol = extra sarcastic lol
another one thats really short and not due to lack of interest, more like...i had no idea where to go at this point LOL
The smell of alcohol hung heavily in the room, the result of an embarrassing amount of knocked over half-full glasses. The tabletop was sticky, the carpet had what would hopefully not be a permanent dark splotch of spilled booze on it, and in the last tiny remains of his common sense, Noctis wondered how much it was going to cost the hotel to repair that, how much would come out of his pocket, and on a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed Ignis would be when he got back.
He settled on '9', then downed his current glass in one go to chase the last, irritating bits of clear thought out of his head.
Ignis and Prompto had left for the Lestallum market earlier, leaving Noctis and Gladio to their own devices—their 'own devices' turned to alcohol within five minutes, which was fast, but not nearly enough to break their personal record.
“What else are we going to do?” Gladio had said. “Talk about boys? Its not a slumber party.”
They had, in fact, started to talk about boys. It turns out the only time either of them were capable of talking about the touchy-feely crap was when the booze was out, and sobriety was but a distant memory.
“So,” Gladio began, slamming his drained glass on the table. “You and Prompto.”
“What? No--” Noctis tore his gaze from the bottom of his cup just in time to see Gladio roll his eyes. “Okay yeah. Me and Prompto. Prompto and I...How long have you known?”
“I dunno, awhile? I just pieced it together with my excellent detection skills.”
“Ignis found out first and told you, didn't he?”
Gladio frowned. “Yeah. Said he saw you two making out behind a Crow's Nest last time we stopped.” He clicked his tongue, and poured himself another drink. “Not very romantic.”
“Hey! I can be plenty romantic, if I want to be! Its not like we have many options. What am I going to do, hire a violinist to follow us around and serenade my boyfriend?” Although still irritated, the prince held out his glass, giving it a little shake, glaring at Gladio until the Shield leaned forward with a chuckle, and refilled it. “Whatever. When we take back Insomnia the first thing I'll do is...make a new holiday. Prompto Day. Kings can do that, right? A day dedicated to telling him he's the absolute best thing to ever happen in the history of time.”
“Excellent use of power, Your Highness.”
“Damn straight.”
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THIS ONE...I actually am very interested in continuing, it’s mostly just been a time issue. But I wanted to practice writing for canon characters because tbh when I write dragon age stuff i mostly focus on OCs and! its so difficult! which has led to me putting this fic off time and time again.
anyway adahlen and friends get lost in the woods.
“Yup! We're lost.” Sera rolled up the map and handed it back to Adahlen. “Starin' at a map isn't going to put signs up on trees. Lost is lost.”
“Wonderful.” Dorian sighed, while Adahlen attempted for what must have been the thousandth time to make sense of the map they had of the Emerald Graves.
“This landmark here, did we pass it?” Adahlen pressed the map against a nearby boulder, pointing towards a crudely drawn statue. Crude in the sense that it was poorly sketched in, and crude because someone (He looked pointedly at Sera) had penciled in some...detailed anatomy.
“What, this statue of some naked person?” Sera peered over his shoulder. “That's all the statues anywhere.”
“She has a point.” Bull shrugged.
Adahlen rolled the map up in defeat. “Alright, as Inquisitor, I am making a very educated and Inquisitorial decision and say we pick a direction, and walk.”
“Excellent. We'll either find one of our camps, or wander deeper into the woods, and die. Great odds, I'd say.” Dorian made his displeasure known, but followed along after the Inquisitor nonetheless.
“Can't imagine a more fun group to die horribly with.” Bull said with a grin, falling into step just behind Adahlen.
Sera quickly caught up with them, a bounce in her step, despite the situation. “Not so bad! We'll disappear, and Varric can come up with a much better ending for us in his book, yeah?”
“That's the spirit.” The Inquisitor shook his head fondly, leading the way through the trees.
---
“I spy with my little eye somethiiiiing....” Sera tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Blue.”
“The sky.” Adahlen offered, still leading the pack.
“Nope! Can't even see the sky much through all these trees anyway. Stupid trees.”
“That flower.” Bull suggested.
“Dammit! Yeah, that's it. Your turn then.”
“I spy--”
“Adahlen's butt!”
“What? How did you know?”
“Because,” Dorian spoke up for the first time in five minutes (Adahlen was just convinced he was sullen about not having had a turn for awhile). “That's been what you've 'spied' your past five turns?”
Bull snorted. “You caught me.”
---
Halfway up the tree, and Adahlen decided this wasn't a very good plan at all. All around him were trees and leaves, and above him, more tree, more leaves. Scaling the entire tree would do absolutely nothing to help their situation; At best, he'd spot a clearing, at worst, he'd lose his grip and fall, and the Inquisition would suddenly be in dire need of an Inquisitor to...Inquisit.
“Careful on your way down,” Dorian called. “Bull's probably going to wind up with a heart attack, watching you.”
“Aw,” Adahlen glanced down at his friends waiting below. “You do care.”
“Enough mush, more climbing.” Sera was perched on a low hanging branch of her own.
“I didn't see anything. Trees are way too dense. Might as well keep walking.”
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this is SO SHORT I never got very far in this AT ALL i wanted to write something about my trio of towns farmer (who i scribbled all over canon for. she’s the adopted daughter of jill and muffy) also featuring my friend’s farmers!!
Its hardly been a year, but it feels like a lifetime without her moms.
The day they're scheduled to arrive, Melody is beyond antsy. She can't keep still—a blessing at first, as she finishes her farm work in record time, but quickly makes her irritable as she paces around the farmhouse with nothing to do.
She tries to occupy herself, she really does. She takes Turnip for a walk (twice), she cleans the kitchen (three times), she patches every nick and tear in every article of clothing she owns. Melody even bothers Rina and Rowan.
Rina had been in her room staring intently at a her finger, and when Melody arrived, shoved said appendage in her face and asked if a paper cut was worth visiting the doctor for.
Melody told her 'yes', which was obviously the answer she had been searching for.
Rowan, meanwhile, had yet to even get out of bed. Melody poked her head through the door after her knocks went unanswered. She told Rowan she ought to wake up, and Rowan's response was to roll over, look at her alarm clock, and go back to sleep.
Eventually she settles for taking Turnip for a third walk. He's full of energy, tail wagging happily at the unusual amount of exercise. Lately Melody had only been taking him out once in the morning, then Turnip spends the rest of the day lazing about the farm, or terrorizing Melody's roommates.
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despite the fact MEA sucked, I did like my Ryders. I was going to write a short story about my main Ryder being temporarily trapped in a snowstorm with her gf and bff but i obviously never finished.
SAM's monotone rattling around in her head wasn't the only cue she needed to know it was cold. Frost creeping into her vision like vines across the glass of her helmet was all the reminder she needed, and the sight of them sent a violent shiver down her spine—as if the icy crystals could possibly make her even more blind in this white-out blizzard.
“Pathfinder,” SAM echoed inside her mind for what must have been the 10th time in as many minutes. “It's currently--”
“Cold! Its cold, SAM, I know!” Arielle Ryder snapped. Another foot was pulled heavily from the snow, kicking flurries up into the air that quickly lost themselves in the oppressive snowfall around her. Inch by inch she made her way forward. “Wheres the Nomad?”
“Nearby. One hundred feet in the direction you're currently headed.”
Arielle squinted ahead, nothing but a wall of weather in front of her. Only a hundred feet, but nowhere in sight. It could have been in front of her nose and Arielle likely wouldn't have found it until she ran head first into it.
Only a hundred feet. Only a hundred feet.
The snow her feet sank into with each step might as well have been buckets of concrete. She had stopped grunting with the effort minutes ago, and now merely wheezed with each exertion. Her teeth chattered around in her skull so violently that the near-delirious part of her mind was worried they would break, and she'd choke on them.
If not for the doors of the Nomad swinging open in front of her, Arielle would have collided right into it. Even still, she merely collapsed into it, letting Vetra pull her the rest of the way inside. Once her feet were safely in, Liam slammed the door shut behind her.
“You've reached the Nomad pathfinder.”
“Thanks, SAM.” Arielle breathed as another shiver jolted through her.
Vetra pulled Arielle's head onto her lap, using her clawed fingers to deftly unclasp the pathfinder's helmet. Ryder breathed a sigh of relief when she was free, but didn't move to wipe away the cold sweat lining the top of her brow. She didn't move to do anything.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Liam crouched down on the floor of the Nomad beside her and Vetra.
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i started writing an interaction between my main inquisitor and my warden, since i had never considered that meeting before. i didn’t get very far but pthbbbt. i want to continue this one day.
His palms were sweating, skin damp against the leather of his gloves. Why? There wasn't really any need to be this nervous, yet here he was, standing in the middle of the room, hands apparently determined to make small oceans right here, right now.
Years ago, maybe Adahlen should have been nervous. Meeting royalty would perhaps have been cause for anxiety—less out of reverence, of course, and likely mostly fear. Not much good could have come out of a dalish elf meeting human nobility, as far as he had known.
But things were different now. He wasn't a kid anymore, he wasn't just some guy anymore, he was the Inquisitor. Nothing should make him nervous at this point. He'd already stared down the empress of Orlais and told her that her cousin was a traitor, had then yelled down the three most powerful people in all of Orlais and told them to get their shit together.
He'd killed Corypheus, hadn't flinched or hesitated at all in that final brawl. With the sky literally crumbling around him, with dragons clashing overhead, Adahlen had kept his bow steady and his mind clear, determined and downright certain that he and his friends would be victorious.
They had been.
There shouldn't be much room in his life anymore for nervousness, all things considered. What else could there really be to make him feel anxious?
Meeting the king and queen of Ferelden, apparently.
Well, meeting the queen, he supposed. He'd already met King Alistair, technically. Their meeting hadn't been much more than the king storming into Redcliffe castle and demanding the mages all get the hell out, but he'd received a letter later, at least. The man seated on the throne in front of him certainly looked like the same man but...the aura was definitely different. There was no scowl on his face, he didn't look quite so tired...The grin on the king's face could have been fairly described as, well, goofy.
The queen was new. He'd learned later on, months after the events at Redcliffe, that the queen had disappeared on a secret mission. With the help of Leliana he managed to get in contact with her, but they'd done nothing more than exchange a single letter each. Adahlen had heard tales of the Hero of Ferelden, but meeting her was something else entirely.
He supposed that was it then. The cause of his nerves. This wasn't like standing in front of an empress who had murdered her way to the top. This wasn't like stepping up to that fight with Corypheus, knowing that he had to be stopped. The king and queen were heroes. If not for them, Thedas would have been likely swallowed by the blight by now.
The Hero of Ferelden had done what normally takes an army of Grey Wardens.
The queen was smiling at him as well, although her grin was not quite as wide as her husband's, but still, it helped alleviate his nerves, just a little. The smile seemed...a little strained, not like it was forced, but pulled tight at the corners like it simply took a lot of energy to do so.
Now that he was really looking at her, it looked like just sitting there was exhausting. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Her chin leaned into her palm, sleeve slipping down off her wrist to expose a thin, bony arm.
She looked ill, maybe.
Adahlen glanced at the bow and quiver leaned against her throne, and decided against questioning her health.
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um oh my fuck this is long? i may break this single chapter into several parts.
ok first of all: i just got the idea and couldn’t stop writing so like I REALLY...APOLOGIZE FOR CHARACTERIZATIONS FJDSKAL luckily i can change that easy peasy so hey! feel free to tell me to change stuff for future chapters! more than happy to do that!
um anyway like. warning tho! first part has some violence in it ;;
anyway yeah this is our coolio KIDS! FROM! THE! FUTURE! AU! ALSO I SWEAR ON MY LIFE FUTURE CHAPTERS WILL BE FUN AND NOT DEPRESSING.
hopefully the cut works on mobile because otherwise: yikes
bye
--
The barrier shattered, fragmented pieces of energy breaking away like glass in a burst of light. They glimmered and illuminated the dark corridor as they fell to the floor, before vanishing in a wisp of dust before they could clatter to the stone.
Aidan stumbled backwards, the action knocking the remaining strands of dark brown hair loose from his already pathetic ponytail. The young mage's hand trembled as he pushed a lock of hair away from his soot and sweat stained face. On the opposite end of the hallway, a man strode toward them, grip tight around the hilt of the sword that had fractured the magical shield with ease.
The grin he wore was far more terrifying than the speed of which he approached.
Something whirled past Aidan, a blur on the edge of his vision, and then—a dagger, lodged into the chest of the man. The unfamiliar soldier grunted with pain, hand reaching up to pull the blade free and release a steady stream of crimson blood. His steps are halted only for a fraction of a second, but it's enough to give them all time to think.
“Come on!” Nae said, her arm still extended from her graceful throw. Behind her, Faust, Ronnie and a ghost-white Ben looked at him anxiously.
Aidan glanced between the rapidly approaching soldier, and his friends, and in a split second made the decision for one more attempt at a barrier. His staff slammed onto the stone, the sound reverberating violently against the (suddenly, claustrophobia-inducing) walls. The sudden reappearance of the Fade sent goosebumps along his skin, the magic warping up and down his arms and intertwining around his fingers before it exploded into a shield that spanned the length of the hallway. A shield that flickered pitifully to betray how weak it was, but a shield that held.
It was all they needed.
Ronnie was the first to move. Her hand grasped in a vice around Ben's, she bolted down the hallway in the opposite direction. They all scrambled after her, moving as fast as their feet would carry them.
The stone walls of Skyhold passed in a blur. Details Aidan had spent years memorizing—every crack in the wall, every oddly shaped brick and every vine that had crept it's way in through the cracks—whirl by in an instant, along with the unshakable feeling that this will be the last Aidan ever sees of this place that's practically home.
The five of them explode clumsily out into the main hall, but the sheer noise of their arrival doesn't matter.
It's chaos. Arrows and spells hurtled overhead, slamming into their targets with brutal precision. The ground of the hall is littered with bodies—many with the strange uniform of their attackers, but enough bearing the Inquisition's heraldry to force a shiver up and down Aidan's spine. Any floor space that wasn't taken up by corpses is occupied by soldiers tangled in duels, steel flashing against steel. The clang of metal to metal is deafening, nearly enough to drown out the shouting.
Nearly.
A war cry to their left is silenced wetly. Aidan's snapped his attention towards the sound, just in time to watch the enemy soldier fall in a heap to the ground like a puppet who's strings have been violently severed. Blood blooms from underneath him, puddling and seeping in their direction.
Faust, who had been closest, takes a step back.
“Are you all alright?” Lana asked. With a foot braced against the man's corpse, she heaved her sword free from his body.
“Mama!” Ben cried, tears welled in his eyes.
“I don't think anybody is hurt.” Ronnie answered. She kept her hand firmly around Ben's even as her little brother tried to rush forward to hug their mother. Her jaw was tight, eyes glossy and sad but...resolved.
Aidan watched Ronnie gaze at her mother for what felt like an eternity. No words passed between them, but their eyes held steady, emotions flickering between them too fast for Aidan to process. Whatever sort of silent conversation they were having, whatever decisions were being made, it was happening in an instant.
“You all have to leave.” Lana said. A chorus of shocked and angry gasps rattled through their group, from all but Ronnie. “Take the stairs down to the basement—when you see an opening, go out through the kitchen, take the horses, and leave, do you understand me?”
“You expect us to abandon everyone?” Nae furiously demands. “I know how to fight, I can stay!”
“Yeah,” Aidan agreed—his voice embarrassingly cracks, throat dry and sore from the exhaustion of spell-casting and running. “We can't just leave.”
The glare Lana leveled him with is laced with enough ice to chill Aidan straight to his core. His mouth snapped shut with a near audible click.
“You can, and you will.” Lana rebutted.
“Ah, what a wonderful time to be standing around arguing.”
It took Aidan nearly every ounce of self control he had to not startle at the sudden appearance of Cael—Faust and Ben openly flinch in surprise, although the former settles instantly.
Cael beamed at them, a friendly and cheerful grin that was warming even if the man who held it was covered head to toe in dried blood.
“Thought maybe I raised you two to know better than this—blood-soaked battlefields? Not the best time for discussions, hm?” Cael raised his eyebrows, eyes flicking back and forth between Faust and Nae.
“But we can't--” Nae's voice wavered dangerously.
An arrow whirled dangerously overhead. With a sickening whap it sticks into the chest of a soldier just behind them. Three more arrows follow in rapid succession—into the leg, arm, and finally, the forehead of the stranger. He fell with an undramatic thud to the ground.
Cael and Aidan both looked up for the source of the arrows—perched on the balcony was Aidan's own dad, arrow notched into the bow and string pulled taught, ready to let another one fly.
“Lana,” Adahlen shouted from above them. “Thought you were getting them out of here?”
“I'm trying,” Lana called back exasperatedly. “But some people raised some awfully stubborn children.”
The arrow Adahlen had readied is released, where it makes itself home in the neck of a man on the opposite side of the room. “Aidan, don't make me get your father.”
“I could take him.” Aidan murmured.
“Listen,” Lana tried again. She paused, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. When she settled her gaze on them all again, her eyes were wet and clouded. “Please. You all have a better chance if you go together. We...We'll find you after we take care of things, alright? I promise. Just...please, go.”
A lump rose in Aidan's throat, but no words.
Nae too, said nothing. Cael pulled both her and Faust in for a quick hug. When they are released, he readied his own bow, and dove back into the fray, arrows flying and hitting their targets with incredible precision.
“Ben,” Lana knelt beside the youngest of their group. She ran her fingers through his golden hair, caressed her thumbs gently across his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “Your big sister knows so much. She's so smart, isn't she? And you're so brave. You need to take care of one another, alright? You listen to Ronnie, because she loves you, and will always take care of you. I'll...I'll catch up with you later. I love you.” She gave him a tight hug, before standing. She pulled Ronnie in close, and pressed a kiss into her hair. “I love you both. Be safe.”
Aidan knew its because it hurts too much to say anything more that Lana turned from them without another word. She met the raised blade of a soldier with her shield, kicking his legs out from under him. When he falls, the blade of her sword follows him to the floor.
Aidan looked back up to the balcony, but his dad isn't looking down at them anymore. Adahlen's attention is occupied by the five enemy warriors that had barged onto the landing, shields raised and swords drawn.
He tore his gaze away only because he felt the tug on his sleeve. “Come on.” Ronnie said, voice soft but determined.
Nae watched the clashing of soldiers, the fray her father had disappeared into, with wide eyes. Faust grabbed her attention by gripping her arm and dragging her towards them. The young elf looked at her brother with an expression torn between grief and anger, an obvious argument forming on her tongue by the way her face twists. But she held it. Her shoulders slumped—with sadness, or resignation, Aidan didn't know.
Faust led them toward the opposite end of the hall, where the stairway down into the basement waited for them. Ronnie brings up the rear, because Ben is digging his heels in and fighting her every step of the way. The poor kid babbled that he doesn't want to go, he wants to stay with his mother. Ronnie was miraculously able to keep a straight face, but Aidan can see that every single step forward is painful for her.
They make it to the stairwell, if only because the remaining Inquisition soldiers all seem to be dead set on making it happen. They fight valiantly to clear the five of them space—it only takes them ten seconds to run to cross the room, but six soldiers give their life taking enemy swords, arrows, and spells in order to get them across safely. When they finally reach the stairs, one of the Inquisition agents shuts it behind them with a slam, sending them into total darkness.
Its as if the door had been a barrier to another world. The silence in the stairway was eerie, the darkness suffocating. The countless days spent roaming Skyhold's many corridors couldn't prevent the sensation that they'd been thrust into another world entirely.
It was dead quiet between the five of them. Even Ben's sniffling had subsided as they watched the door that had shut behind them and severed them from the fight. It was a sad feeling of finality that settled into Aidan's chest, like the closing of that door was a permanent cut-off from his life before.
“We should keep moving.” Faust was the first to break the silence, his voice hardly above a whisper. Faust and Nae's eyes shimmered in the dark, like large, beautiful cat eyes.
The sadness behind them was so much more pronounced, alight in the shadows like they were.
They descended the stairs. Slowly, quietly, everyone's ears trained for any bit of noise, any sign of soldiers waiting for them at the bottom. Aidan swears he aged twenty years by the time his feet finally hit the flat floor of the basement.
Fate only gave them a moment to breathe. Aidan felt the crackle of magic in the air—the strange but familiar electricity of it all at once heavy in the air around them—before he ever saw the mages. Behind the shut door that led into the kitchen—to what was supposed to be their salvation—the unmistakable sound of spell-casting could clearly be heard. Zaps of lightning, shouts of distress, swords clanging uselessly against barriers. Then all at once, nothing.
There is a single beat of silence before the door swung open, and two redheaded women stumble out. The elven woman hurled one last firebolt into the room behind them—the heat of it uncomfortable, even from this distance—before the human woman slammed the door shut behind them, back braced against it.
The two mages looked at their group incredulously.
“What are you doing down here?” Ariadne asked. The door she's holding back shuddered violently against it's frame.
“Auntie!” Ben cried.
“It's not safe down here, you have to get upstairs.” Ashala told them through shaky inhales.
“Mother said to come down here. The main hall...everywhere else has been taken. We were supposed to escape through the kitchen and then get to the stables.” Ronnie managed to explain, even with the obvious despair creeping into her voice.
Ashala and Ariadne exchanged glances.
“That room,” Ashala used her staff to gesture to the closed door in the corner, Aidan following it with his eyes. “Hide. We'll draw them away. When its quiet, go for the stables.”
Nae looked like she'd found the energy to argue again, but Faust didn't give her the chance. He grabbed his sister by the arm and forcefully dragged her towards the door in question. Aidan followed, then Ronnie with Ben—but not before she cast one last sad glance over her shoulder.
Again, a door was shut behind them. But rather than a stairway, they found themselves now in a crowded room—bookshelves from floor to ceiling, stuffed to the brim with tomes and scrolls. Seemingly every corner contained a cobweb, and the dust had settled so thickly onto the shelves that Aidan could have mistaken it for early snowfall. The spellbooks here had been untouched for years. Decades, maybe.
The sounds of fighting erupted from the other side of the door. Even from this distance the hair on the back of Aidan's neck stood at the presence of the Fade as spells crashed and flew on the opposite side of those wooden panels. He didn't dare breathe.
For what felt like hours, they waited. They waited and waited for the sounds beyond the door to die down, for their signal that it was safe to go out. Ronnie sat down on the only stool in the room, pulling Ben into her lap. As soft as she dared, she whispered soothing words into her little brother's ear, running a gentle hand through his hair.
Faust fidgeted nervously at Nae's side. Nae didn't remove her eyes from the door, her expression steely and cold.
Aidan would have joined her in her vigil, had a flicker of...of something not caught his eye. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a glow—not encompassing anything, but more like...a glimmer. The sort of impermanent shine you'd catch off the reflection of a lake as the sun was setting. Curious, he carefully pushed aside the tomes on the shelf, until he found the source.
A single stone, tied around a bit of rope—like some kind of makeshift necklace. The stone was smooth, and the same deep green as the turbulent oceans of the Waking Sea....No, it wasn't just the color that reminded him of the ocean. Something in it moved and swayed, coiling and uncoiling around itself. It flickered into view from deep inside, then receded, an ebb and flow just like the tide.
Aidan recognized magic when he saw it. The enchantment on this stone was strong. Powerful in a way he had only ever read about. The Fade was deeply, deeply connected to this thing. He reached out, cautiously, terrified even that simple act might release whatever spell had been woven into it.
Aidan had always thought the shimmer of the Fade was beautiful, but now, it scared him. Just by holding the stone he could feel how intricately tied to the Fade this thing was—he regretted picking it up. Just moving it from it's spot on the shelf felt like Aidan had begun to unravel something.
“What's that?” Ben asked curiously from Ronnie's lap.
The rest of the room turned their attention to Aidan. He'd never felt nervous around his friends before, but the sudden intensity of their stares threatened to make him sweat.
“I don't know,” He said honestly. “It's...strong. I've never seen anything like it.”
“Like, magically?” Faust asked skeptically.
“Yeah. I can physically see the Fade peeking through it in places.”
“Its probably down here for a reason. I don't think it's safe.” Ronnie eyed the stone dubiously.
Nae turned around to look at him, eyes off the door for the first time since they entered. “Can you use it?”
“...Excuse me?” Aidan stammered.
“You're a mage. Can you use it?”
“I mean...probably? It's...The enchantment on it is simple, I think. I'm pretty sure I'd only have to channel magic into it to get it to...do whatever it is it does.”
Nae took a step forward. “Then do it.”
“What?” Ronnie and Faust's outrage was simultaneous. Faust merely gaped at his sister, but Ronnie barreled forward with her argument. “Nae, we don't even know what it does. It might not do anything—it might just blow up and kill us all.”
“So we die here, or die out there.” Nae jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the door. “What if whatever that stone does can help us? If its strong enough that the Inquisition wants it locked away down here, then it might be strong enough to help us.”
“No.” Ronnie shook her head. “No way. Nae, we should just wait, like we were told. We wait until it's quiet and--”
“Do you hear the fighting anymore?”
Ronnie snapped her mouth shut. Aidan closed his eyes, and listened as well. The fighting outside was no longer the clamor of before but...there were still voices. Deep, unfamiliar voices, talking in hushed tones.
“I don't...I don't think Ariadne and Ashala...” Faust began, but could not finish.
“No.” Ronnie pleaded hoarsely.
“Aidan,” Nae rounded on him again with enough intensity to make him instinctively step back. “Come on. Whatever that is, it might be our only chance.”
Aidan couldn't meet her stare. He curled his fingers tightly around the emerald stone, the cold sensation of magic a heartbeat against his skin. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Yeah,” Nae agreed with a shrug. “But I've only got one dagger left, and no offense but you're a terrible mage. The others don't have any weapons with them at all. Sooo unless you magically,” The elf wiggled her fingers. “Became a kickass arcane warrior sometime in the last five minutes, I think maybe we should give the magic rock a try.”
Aidan looked helplessly to the rest of their group, getting nothing but a shrug from Faust. Ronnie wasn't even looking at them at all anymore, her arms wrapped tightly around Ben.
He swiped his tongue across his lips. “Okay.”
He hadn't been lying about the simple enchantment. The magic itself was beyond complex—the sort of spell Aidan couldn't even begin to wrap his head around—but the activation of it was simple. The spell was wound so tightly it would be like pulling at a single thread and watching a knot come undone. The set up had been far more intricate than the act of undoing all that work.
He held the stone close, cupping it near his chest. Aidan inhaled deeply, free hand outstretched. His fingers twitched, and the familiar and soothing sensation of magic began to wrap around his fingers, twirling and crossing between them like a spiderweb. It wasn't a spell, not really, just an outpouring of energy, a direct string plucked from the Fade.
Aidan leveled the rest of them with a determined stare, and received a round of resigned nods. Even from Ronnie, who had finally looked away from the floor. He caught everyone's eyes one by one, and after he had each and every one of their blessings, directed the magic into the stone.
The result was instantaneous. A blinding green light exploded forth, the second his magic had made contact with the enchantment. The force of the spell knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing with a harsh bang to the floor below. A chorus of yelps echoed around the room, the only sign he had that his friends had suffered similar fates, since the overwhelming light robbed him of his sight.
The brightness lingered for minutes—maybe even hours, he had no way of knowing. It occurred to Aidan that while the initial spell had forced the air from his lungs and sent him flying to the floor, there had been no further pain. He might have believed he was dead, if he did not still feel the cold stone against his hand, and the hard floor underneath his face.
Slowly, the light began to fade. The color seeped back into his vision, returning to him the view of the dusty library—and more importantly, his friends. They were all in the process of picking themselves up off the floor, but they were all here, and they were all alive.
“What happened?” Faust asked. He was met with silence.
The door flew open before Aidan could even begin to piece together a sentence.
Every single one of them tensed. Nae reached clumsily for her dagger, holding it outstretched and ready to stab. Ronnie pushed Ben behind her, bent at the knees like she'd spring into the fight and go for someone's throat with her bare hands.
In the doorway, was a man. An elf, specifically. Bald, and with no tattoos on his face—so a city elf? He looked...familiar, somehow.
What was far more pertinent was the fact he was not poised to strike. He stood there calmly, back straight, eyeing them all with an expression far more akin to curiosity than hostility, before calling over his shoulder. “Commander Cullen, I believe I found the source of the magic.”
Another man stepped into view, this one with a sword raised defensively. His face was smooth and his golden hair lacked the familiar grey at the temples, but this man, Aidan recognized without a doubt--
“Papa!” Ben sobbed, wrenching himself free from Ronnie's grip. The young boy stumbled as he dashed forward, but nothing could stop him from latching himself onto Cullen's leg.
Cullen, for his credit, did not shake the little boy away. He looked uncertainly down at Ben, then rested his gaze on the remaining four of them, eyeing them like they'd all sprouted extra limbs.
But no sign of recognition anywhere on his face. He looked at them each individually, no flicker of emotion or happiness even as his eyes ghosted over Ronnie. Just confusion.
“Solas, go get Leliana and Josephine.” He said, as Ben nuzzled against his leg.
-----------------------------
“So, care to explain how a bunch of children ended up in our basement?” Leliana asked. The five of them were seated across from her, chairs brought down from the upper floors. Aidan was grateful; His feet ached like he'd been on them for centuries. He was beyond exhausted—and Maker, did he feel gross. Sweat, dirt, blood, all of it caked onto his clothes and skin like the world's worst mud mask.
His friends all looked about the same.
“How did you get in?” Leliana pressed.
“A spell.” Ronnie answered. Everyone seemed to have come to the same, silent agreement: Let Ronnie do the talking. Whatever was happening here was beyond comprehension—nobody seemed to recognize them. Everyone looked just slightly different, too, in ways Aidan was either too dumb (likely) or too exhausted (very likely) to put his finger on. Weirder still, there was no sign of the absolute madness that had enveloped Skyhold just minutes before.
Ronnie, always the smart one, seemed to grasp that whatever was happening here, they needed to be very, very careful going forward.
“A spell.” Cullen, at Leliana's side, echoed doubtfully.
“Yes. We didn't know what it would do. Our...home was being attacked. We were out of options. We found a stone that we thought was powerful, and used it. It brought us here.”
“A stone?” Leliana narrowed her eyes. “Do you still have it?”
The stone in question had been attached to a rope—as they were ushered out of the library, Aidan had put it around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.
“No.” Ronnie said, quickly. Aidan fought hard to not raise his eyebrows at her.
“I suppose after what happened at Redcliffe I shouldn't keep being surprised at what magic can do.” Cullen sighed wearily.
“Do you know where you are?” Josephine asked them, her voice far kinder than anybody else's had been that day.
Ronnie hesitated. “...No.”
“Well, welcome to Skyhold.” Josephine said cheerfully. Both Leliana and Cullen looked at her with mirrored irritable expressions. “What? Please, they are just children. Look at them. Whatever happened to them all, I think its been enough.”
“I suppose we can talk later.” Leliana conceded. “For now, they may rest.”
“Excellent! We'll find them their own rooms later, but until then they must share. I believe there is a free one just off of the garden.” Josephine gave them all a nod, and a warm smile. “Follow me, please.”
Josephine led them all through Skyhold, with Cullen and Leliana trailing behind the main group. As they passed through the main hall, all of the wind was knocked right out of Aidan's chest. It was...fine. No sign of battle, no bodies on the floor or blood smeared along the walls. Just nobles chatting amicably, just a warm roaring fireplace, just...normalcy. It was familiar, but also painfully strange. The placement of the furniture, the shine along the mantles and the vibrant colors of the drapes were all so different from the picture of Skyhold he could so easily conjure in his memory.
Just as she promised, Josephine took them to one of the rooms that lined the courtyard garden. The soldiers, servants, and nobles that huddled together in conversation eyed them all with mixed looks of curiosity and horror.
“Here we are,” Josephine pushed the door open, and gestured kindly for them all to step inside. “Take time to rest. I will have someone bring by clean clothes later.”
“We will continue our discussion later.” Cullen said, not entirely unkindly, but with a definite air of finality as well.
“No, don't go!” Ben whined, trying once again to rush forward after Cullen. This time, Ronnie caught him by the arm before he could get any further.
She didn't look at Cullen as she spoke. “Sorry. He's been through a lot today, and you kind of look like our father.”
“That's...alright.” Cullen hesitated. His eyes flick between the two siblings, but he turned and left with the other advisers, leaving the five of them to their room.
Faust instantly flopped onto the bed. He wasted no time; a pillow was placed firmly over his head soon after he settled.
Nae took a seat at the end of the bed, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. “So,” she began, “What in the fuck?”
“The stone did something.” Ronnie spat. “I told you we shouldn't use it.”
“Okay, rub that in my face later, Ronnie. But what did it do?”
Silence.
Silence that continued until a soft wrapping on the door. A servant hesitantly poked her head in, a basket in hand. “Lady Montilyet has found some extra clothing for you all.”
“Thank you.” Ronnie took the basket from the girl, clutching it close to her chest. “Um...I'm sorry, this may sound like a strange question, but...do you know what day it is?”
“The 9th of Wintermarch, 9:42 Dragon?”
Aidan choked.
“Ah, of course. Thank you.” Ronnie thanked her with a kind smile, then gently shut the door. She set the basket beside the door frame, and slid to the floor.
Nae stood. “Bullshit.”
“No, I...I think this is real.” Faust's wobbly voice was muffled, beneath the pillow as it was. “I thought everyone looked kind of different? And now its because they all look--”
“Younger.” Ronnie finished.
“But—that's not---is this even possible?” Nae demanded answers to the questions that all of them had.
A thought sparked to life in Aidan's head, skittering quickly into view like a deer startled from the brush. “Yes.” He breathed. “It—It is. My dads, they've talked about it before—it's how my dad met one of his best friends—you all know Dorian, right? Dorian mentioned it once to me too, that when he was younger he had helped develop time magic. Magic that someone used against the Inquisition to help--”
His words slammed to a halt so fast he could practically feel them knock against his teeth.
“Corypheus.” Faust dragged the pillow slowly off of his face. “We were sent back to when they're still fighting Corypheus.”
All the heat drained from Aidan's body. He had only ever heard of Corypheus, but that was enough. He had been taken in by Adahlen and the Iron Bull long after Corypheus had fallen, but he'd heard them talk, had heard the stories of how bad it had been, of how disastrously close Thedas had been to falling into the clutches of the crazed ancient Magister.
Nae looked wildly between them all. “Does it matter? We know they win, right?”
“Unless our presence changes that.” Ronnie whispered.
But everyone heard.
“Oh shit.” Aidan ran his fingers through his hair. “We—us being here? It messes up--”
“The timeline, yeah. We've already changed everything by being here. We could screw this up. Our parents all met while they were in the Inquisition, we could screw this up so bad that we cease to even exist--”
“Stop.” Nae raised her hands. “Ronnie, stop. That won't happen, alright? We'll just...We'll go back. We'll play it cool until we can go home.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” The pillow was back over Faust's face.
“We figure out who put the stone there.” Ronnie spoke slowly, like she's unraveling the idea as she goes. “That library hadn't been touched in a long time—that stone had probably been hidden years ago. We figure out who put it there, and make them help us.”
“That could take long time, Ronnie.” Aidan said. Beneath his shirt and against his skin, the stone feels unnaturally cold.
“Yeah. It could.” Ronnie agrees with a heavy sigh. “But what else can we do? We should just lay low, and learn what we can. Keep our distance from everybody until we figure out something else.”
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hi.
second part of the soul mate au. uhhh it ends more suddenly but like i got so nervous about losing it again i wanted to put it up??
anyway if you need a refresher the first part is here: CLICKY
so. its barely proofread. if i read it too closely i go ‘it stinks’ and then i get too shy about putting it here. so sorry for any weird typos or breaks in tense and stuff.
thanks again evie for letting me use lana and ashala! i love them! and like last time, im more than happy to edit things if anything is out of character!
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The pitter-patter of rain against the stone walls of Skyhold only serve to make the library feel all the more quiet. The usual whispers are lowered so drastically that unless Ariadne truly trains her attention on the conversations around her, they could easily be mistaken for nothing more than a draft wriggling its way through the cracks in the walls.
Its part of the reason she's so hesitant to strike up a conversation with the elven girl seated across the table from her—the other half being she could tell something was eating at her present company. Ariadne had watched Ashala read enough times by now to know the difference between her expressions; Her knitted brow and serious straight-lined mouth were an indication of concentration, but the rhythmic tapping along the book's spine and the occasional heavy sigh could hardly be contributed to something as simple as being engrossed in the text.
“Is it nice, having someone from your clan around?” Ariadne finally ventures to start a conversation, saving her spot in her own book with her thumb.
Ashala glances up over the top of her reading. “What? Oh,” She pauses halfway through closing her book, as if reluctant, but does eventually do so and places it atop the table between them. “Yes. I've always gotten along with Adahlen. This place feels a bit more like home now that I know more people.”
Her voice is soft, but not insincere sounding, so Ariadne crosses that possible problem off of her list. She also now realizes that she should have thought out this conversation a little more carefully, as she has no idea where to go from here, or what to say to subtly ask Ashala whats bothering her.
She wants to help, but she doesn't want to pry.
“Um...Actually, Ari, can I ask you about something?” Ashala seems just as hesitant as Ariadne had been to speak just moments before.
Ariadne immediately perks up, and offers Ashala the most welcoming smile she could possibly muster.
“Of course.” She says with sincerity. “You can ask me anything.”
Ashala doesn't seem any less uncertain. “Right...So—ugh, I'm sorry. I don't really know how to ask this without seeming foolish.”
“I'll never judge you, Ashala.”
That brings out a smile—albeit a wavering one. “Thank-you....Alright. So, you and Cassandra, you've already...you know? Talked? About the soul mate thing?”
“Yes, we have.”
“And that went just fine?”
“I think so.” Ariadne confirms with a confident nod.
“So...I haven't talked with mine. Even though I've already met him, um, awhile ago.”
“Oh!” Ariadne gasps, and an uncomfortable weight is instantly lifted from her shoulders. This sort of problem is not nearly as dire as the ones her brain had unhelpfully conjured for her. “You know, Lana and Cullen didn't talk about it for ages too. I'm sure everything will be fine. Just take it at your own pace and things will work out--”
“No,” Ashala interrupts, placing her palms over her eyes. “I mean I haven't talked with him. At all. Since we met. He introduced himself, and I never said a word back to him. I just—I got so scared, Ari. I was so excited at first, then everything just suddenly hit me all at once. I'm supposed to be with this person, whatever I say to him, whatever clumsy introduction I fumble my way through are the words he has had there his whole life, and—I wanted it to be special. So I kept thinking, and thinking, and then suddenly its been a few days, then a week, and now months have passed and I haven't said a word to him. He probably thinks I hate him, and even if I tell him now I know he'll just be furious with me and now he hates me—and--”
Before Ashala can say anymore (or hyperventilate herself into oblivion), Ariadne quickly rounds the table and takes a seat directly beside her. Without hesitation she pulls Ashala into a tight hug, tucking the elf's head underneath her chin.
“Ashala, its okay.” She soothes as best she can. “Try and relax. I swear to you, he will not hate you. Nobody could. He might be, um, a little surprised, but I know he couldn't possibly hate you. And even if he's upset, it'll fade, alright? You two will talk it out.”
“Do you really think so?” Ashala asks with a sniffle.
Ariadne gives Ashala's hair a reassuring pat. “Of course. I'm not going to lie and say I don't think he'll be totally unconcerned, but...You have to at least try, right? It can't get fixed unless you talk to him. But it'll work out, I promise. Anyone would feel lucky to have you as their soul mate. If they don't, I'll turn them into a toad.”
“A toad? Just what sort of magic are they teaching in the Circles?”
“The Chantry forbids all non-amphibian related magic.”
This earns Ariadne a laugh from the girl in her arms. A small one, but clear, like little bells.
The two of them sit there in silence for awhile longer. Ariadne keeps her hold tight, but not enough to really prevent Ashala from leaving the embrace anytime she's ready.
“Thank you, Ariadne.” Ashala finally breaks the quiet with her gentle voice. “I mean it. Um...” She pulls away, but doesn't go far—just distances herself enough so that she and Ariadne can look at one another eye to eye. “I'm really glad we met, you know.”
Ariadne practically beams at that. “Me too. I know we've only known one another for a few months, but...you're my best friend.”
“And you're mine. I can't say I'm happy about what happened at the Conclave, but...I'm still glad we were both there.”
“Oh,” Ariadne has to avert her gaze at that, a blush rising to her face and tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “Yes. I'm glad too. Please go talk to Solas now, before I say anything mushy and start crying.”
“Right, I will--” Ashala suddenly starts. “How did you know it was Solas?!”
“What? Oh, Ashala, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was a secret. You just always get so nervous when he's around, I just assumed...”
Ashala's cheeks are bright pink, but thankfully she doesn't seem too bothered. In fact, she's smiling. One far brighter than anything else she had given Ariadne on this gloomy day. “We'll discuss my obviousness later, I suppose. You're right though. I need to go talk to him. I'll see you later, okay?” Ashala goes in for one last hug, and Ariadne happily obliges. When they pull away, a glint of determination has sparked to life in her best friend's eyes. “Okay. I'm off....And thanks again, Ari. I love you!”
“Love you too.” Ariadne sends her off with a wave. Ashala gets up from her seat, returns the gesture, and bounds down the library stairs.
Ariadne is only alone with her thoughts for a few moments. “That was adorable.” Says Dorian, from the other side of the library, and Ariadne responds with a half-hearted scoff.
--
All the confidence Ashala has feels like it dissipates the moment her feet hit the bottom step, and she lands in an empty rotunda. Solas is not in his usual haunt, nothing but his desk and a half-painted mural there to greet her.
For a fleeting second, Ashala considers dashing back up the stairs and flinging herself back into Ariadne's hug. Ultimately, she steels herself, and commits to her decision. She wants to go back to best friend with a story—a good one.
Step one is to hunt her soul mate down.
She begins her search in the main hall, but only the usual sort are there—Varric, and the gaggle of nobles who turn their nose up at the décor and loudly critique the attire of passerby's. She doesn't wait for the judgmental gazes to turn on her before she takes her search elsewhere.
Ashala's not really sure where she should be looking, since she'd yet to see Solas be anywhere other than his normal room. But she's thorough in her scouting: The rain has begun to subside, so she ventures outside to look by the stables (only horses and Blackwall there, with his usual expression firmly in place.: The mixture of concentration and something vaguely akin to bowel distress), the ramparts (Just soldiers slacking off, and Sera, poised and ready to drop a bucket of something probably awful on the next unfortunate soul to walk below her), and the garden (Lana and Cullen are there, absorbed in a game of chess—well, Lana is absorbed. Cullen is just staring at her. Aw).
He's not in the kitchen, or near the front gates, or in the courtyard—although Iron Bull at the latter, apparently far too busy to notice her. He's surrounded by the Chargers, flexing proudly for them, until finally one of them takes notice: Krem, who excitedly points out Bull's newly blank forearm. A round of congratulations is bestowed upon the rather pleased looking Iron Bull, while Ashala takes that moment to slip inside the tavern.
She's only here to check it off her list, yet there he is. Solas stops his descent down the stairs halfway, freezing at the sight of her. Ashala is surprised to find him here, of all places, until she recalls that Cole haunts the upper floors, and the two of them get along quite well.
It feels almost like a stand-off. Between herself and Solas, but also between her nerves and her desires. Her tongue suddenly feels like lead, and her knees tremble so violently she's afraid they may give out—or force her to turnabout and flee.
It takes every last ounce of self control she has, but Ashala stands her ground. She levels her gaze with Solas, takes a shaky and uncertain inhale, and finally gets everything off of her chest.
“Solas,” She starts, voice wavering. “I'm so, so sorry it took this long, but I have to talk to you—we're soul mates, and I know I should have talked to you about this—talked to you about anything, but I just go so nervous, and I overthought everything, and even though I knew putting it off was only making it worse, I just couldn't gather up the courage to speak with you, and kept digging this hole deeper and deeper, and I understand if you're upset with me now but I hope its not too late, and that we can still somehow talk it out.”
Ashala inhales again, sharper this time, as she's winded. She had intended to, maybe, say that in several sentences rather than a single, long exhale.
Solas blinks at her. She blinks back.
“I see.” Solas says, calmly. “May we discuss this elsewhere?”
“Of course.” Ashala replies, not calmly.
He finishes his descent, and leaves the tavern. Ashala follows him up to the ramparts, wringing her hands together nervously. They walk until they reach the only portion of the walls not yet repaired—a small section just beside the stables. On one side of them, the neigh of horses drifts up from the grounds below. On the other, the wall drops into a steep cliff side, with nothing but gray skies and snow-capped mountaintops as far as the eye can see.
The silence lingers heavily in the air for a long, long time. Solas looks out past Skyhold's walls with a face devoid of any emotion. Ashala tries to do the same, and is unconvinced she is successful.
“I had thought perhaps you already died.”
Ashala's gaze rips from the scenery, and lands back to Solas. “What?”
He doesn't return her gaze, but something flickers onto his face—an emotion Ashala can't quite place. It's fleeting, only there for an instant, and soon his calm mask is back in place. He smiles, and pleasant as it is, it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
“I am not a young man anymore.” Solas answers. “I thought that if the two of us had not yet met, then the time had long since past.”
“I'm...sorry?” Ashala hesitantly replies. Just like that, the mask shatters, and the smile that's on his face is one that is so kind and gentle it warms Ashala to her very core. The thought suddenly crosses her mind that she would do anything to keep that look on his face.
“There is nothing to apologize for. I did not intend to imply that I am angry. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm glad we are able to finally meet.” He doesn't sound insincere, but he's still not looking at her either. “I feel a little foolish I had not pieced it together that it was you, however.”
“Why?”
Solas chuckles, and finally turns to face her directly. “I have lived my whole life with your words on my arm. I knew whoever it was, it must be someone who I had already met, but hadn't spoken with.”
“Oh...Oh!” Ashala gasps, and brings a hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh no. Solas, I'm so sorry, you had all of that on your arm?”
Solas nods. “I did. Every word of it. It ran from my wrist all the way up to my shoulder.”
“Oh, Creators, Solas I am so sorry.”
He laughs at that, a rather hearty one she's never heard from him before. “No need to apologize. I quite liked having them there. It gave me such a feel for your personality, before we ever met. It was...comforting, at times.”
Ashala is red all the way up to the tips of her ears. The smile Solas shows her is so dazzling, no matter how small and soft it may seem. Its all she can do to look away from it—and she's hardly successful on that front, as she steals glances at it the rest of their conversation together.
---
The last few weeks had seen a lot of contemplating and brooding from Adahlen—even he had enough self-awareness to know that the serious frown on his face was not the sort of expression common to his features. But he couldn't help it.
He was happy here, of course. Skyhold was beautiful, Lana was a good leader, and her inner circle of friends were as colorful a cast of characters as they were entertaining. He'd helped Lana on a few of her missions, and being of use to her cause had felt about a thousand times more satisfying than he had anticipated.
Plus, he'd met his soul mate and—ah. There it was. Just the thought of him made Adahlen's stomach flip.
Adahlen adored Iron Bull, and as happy as he felt around him, he couldn't shake the awful feeling gnawing at his bones. Like this wasn't serious. Like Iron Bull liked him, but not anywhere near the intensity of affection that Adahlen felt for him. He knew Bull enjoyed his company (and after last week's incident, so did half of Skyhold), but what if that's all it was? A casual...soul-mates-with-benefits sort of thing.
Just the thought made him blink, as if trying to comprehend his own foolishness.
He liked Iron Bull a lot. Adahlen enjoyed their conversations together. He could duck into the tavern in the early mornings, see the casual lean of Iron Bull in his chair, and his heart would skip and flutter. Before he knew it, the two of them had been talking for so long the sun was starting to disappear behind Skyhold's walls.
They hadn't actually talked about the soul mate situation in detail. His earlier discussion with Ashala about their initial talk hadn't been much of an exaggeration.
So determined was he to be lost in his own suffering, that Adahlen had not realized his feet began to wander along with his mind until he rounds a corner, and runs directly into Hawke, Skyhold's latest guest.
“Woah, if you don't come out of those clouds soon, you'll float away entirely.” Hawke says with an easy laugh. He steadies the both of them, hands on Adahlen's shoulders.
“Sorry,” Adahlen winces. He liked Hawke. He was charming, and easy to talk to. After reading Varric's book (and hearing about Hawke nearly nonstop from the author in person), Adahlen had expected the Champion to be hard to approach, since he was a legend. But he wasn't—well, he was, but he was also a person. “I was lost in thought.”
“You don't say.”
Adahlen laughs. He was going to continue on his way, until he notices a piece of parchment in Hawke's hands. His curiosity gets the best of him. “Whats that?”
“This?” Hawke holds up the paper in question. Its carefully and evenly folded. “Its a letter. I was just on my way up to your spymaster to ask if I could borrow one of her birds.”
“A letter? A naughty letter?” Adahlen playfully ribs.
Hawke waggles his eyebrows. “Well, it is for my soul mate. He loves when I go weeks unable to contact him, then send him nothing but filth.”
It shouldn't surprise him that the Champion of Kirkwall has a soul mate, but for some reason, it does. “You have a soul mate?” He inquires, incredulous.
“Yes?” Hawke replies, drawing the word out and quirking his eyebrows up at the end. “Is that so hard to believe? Aren't I so rugged and charming? How could I not?”
“No, I just mean—Varric talks about Kirkwall like it was just absolute chaos the whole time.”
Hawke rubs his chin thoughtfully. “He's not wrong.”
“Then how did you find the time? To talk about it, or...?”
“I don't know. I don't think we ever really did. I met him that first year in Kirkwall, when we were looking for a way into the Deep Roads—well, I'm sure you've read the book? Anyway, three years later we finally--”
“Three years?!”
“What was the rush? Kirkwall was practically falling apart. I spent nearly every day with him anyway. We both knew, so what was there to discuss? I fought beside him, I trusted him with my life. When he came to me three years after we met, I knew I would have loved him anyway, soul mate or not.”
“Oh.” Adahlen tilts his head slightly to the side. “Varric didn't mention you were a romantic.”
“That's because Varric is a wonderful friend, and keeps all of my sordid secrets. Like how I always cheat at cards.”
“No, he did tell us that one.”
“Damn. Well, if you'll excuse me Adahlen, I've got a letter I need to get into a likely very worried mage's hands.” As a goodbye, Hawke lightly bops Adahlen on the top of the head with said letter as he passes.
Adahlen is left alone in the hallway, feeling very foolish not for the first time, and very, very likely, not the last either.
----
By the time their plans to march against the Wardens are finalized, winter has sunk its talons deep into Thedas. Skyhold is quiet, and as Lana sits at her desk going over some papers, she can't keep the thought that this is merely the calm before the storm from creeping up into her mind.
The cold is biting. Winter had barreled in relentlessly, going from dreary but cool rains to freezing temperatures in a matter of days. For the first time since 'moving in' to Skyhold, Lana has had to shut the glass doors that lead out to her bedroom's balconies. She misses the breeze.
The frost forming on the stain-glass windows of her bedroom drew her attention to the cold world outside. Lana stands from her desk and approaches the glass, placing a hand against its icy surface.
Its snowing. The sight of it is almost a relief—all the cold winds and dry, freezing weather, without the fun of snowfall? Just dreadful. It made her envious of all the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the fortress.
It wasn't long before the snow was falling in heaps. With the frost on the windows, and the heaviness of the snowfall outside, she could hardly make out the rooftops of Skyhold anymore. A memory of being a little girl, and watching the snow pile up with anticipation suddenly strikes her. As children, her and Ariadne had been unable to sit still the moment the snow began to fall, and the second there was enough to properly play in, the sisters would clamor outside and no force in the world was able to stop them. Not even their mother, exasperatedly shaking scarves at them and begging them to not track snow back into the estate.
Lana opens up the glass door, and the memory dissipates as she steps onto the balcony. A rush of cold air weaves past her frame to push a dusting of flurries onto her bedroom floor, and nearly blows out the fireplace. It flickers in response, but holds steady.
Snow has already piled on the railings, and Lana slides her hands along it absentmindedly, watching it fall in clumps to the ground below. Skyhold is already blanketed in white, masking its grey stone walls and the green garden far below her.
It appears she's not the only one who has noticed the sudden change in weather. Below, she sees a soldier leave the barracks, and even from far above him Lana can hear the yelp of surprise as his boot sinks deep into the snow. He calls back into the door behind him—Lana can't quite make out what—and soon a whole crew has appeared behind him, all pushing to get out into the snow.
In a matter of moments, the still and quiet courtyard has erupted into madness. Soldiers are running everywhere, snowballs are being hurled in every direction, and it takes only four more minutes before at least three snowmen are finished. Her soldiers certainly work fast. Cullen would be pleased.
There is a knock on the door.
“Come in.” Lana calls over her shoulder. Seconds later, Cullen is standing beside her, as if her thoughts had summoned him.
“I came to review our plans. Leliana thought it would be wise to do so.” He says, and Lana turns her head to hide the small smile that threatens to form. She waits for Cullen to continue, but he doesn't. The two stand in a comfortable silence, watching the fun happening in the courtyard.
A pair of soldiers engaged in a ferocious snowball duel face off, and when one goes to duck out of the way, a third man arrives and pelts him directly in the face. Out of the corner of her eye, Lana sees Cullen twitch.
Lana can't hold back her laughter. “You want to go down there and critique their form, don't you?”
In response, Cullen rubs the back of his neck. “I told them to watch their flanks.” For a moment, Lana believes that will be the end of their conversation, and that they'll go back to quietly watching the events unfold below. But Cullen clears his throat, and continues. “Looking at all of this, its hard to imagine we'll be marching through the desert in a week.”
Lana sighs. She knows it must be done, but she had been doing her best to avoid thinking about this new reality: the one where she goes against one of the most ancient and honored orders in Thedas.
Cullen presses on. “Have you decided who will join your direct assault?”
She has. Lana had spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning as she thought it over. She couldn't bring everyone, as badly as she wanted to have all her friends by her side for this one. But the sheer amount of skill her friends all possessed meant that some had to be left with the soldiers, to give them a fighting chance. Others had to stay at Skyhold—she had fought back hard against that suggestion by her advisors, but in the end had relented. With the bulk of her forces at Adamant, Skyhold would be defenseless. It was safer to leave a few people behind to watch the place.
“Yes.” She answers, but she does not clarify who, not aloud. Lana had decided that Cassandra, Solas, and Adahlen would accompany her—If Erimond's demonstration in the Western Approach had been any indication of just how deep the Wardens were in possessions, than Cassandra's Seeker skills and Solas' knowledge of demons and spirits were invaluable. Adahlen's ability with a bow was uncanny, and she trusted him to be able to take as many Wardens out with non-fatal arrow placements as he could.
Iron Bull, Varric, Vivienne, Sera, and Ashala would help the soldiers try and storm the walls. Everyone else, (Blackwall, Cole, Dorian, and Ariadne) would remain behind to watch over Skyhold. The four left behind hadn't seemed happy, but nobody had argued her decision—Ariadne had given her that sad, kicked puppy look, and the sight of that expression on her sister's face had made Lana nearly keel over and die.
Lana shivers. Standing out in the snow was finally starting to numb the tips of her fingers and nose. Something soft brushes her cheek, and a heavy weight settles on her shoulders. When the gears in her head finally start to work again, Lana realizes Cullen has placed his coat around her.
Or whatever that mane he always wears around himself is.
She turns her head, leans into it, and closes her eyes. It smells like him. Maybe that thought is a strange one, but she doesn't care. It doesn't do much to help with the cold, but it warms her deep into her bones anyway.
Lana looks at him, and smiles. He mimics her expression, and Lana goes from freezing, to thinking she could melt at any second. After their talk—unbelievably, weeks ago now—things between them had been...nice. Pleasant. Better. It wasn't perfect, not yet. He didn't sweep her off her feet at every opportunity, and she didn't (always) swoon at the sight of him, but she didn't need all of that now. She was so happy to just be able to talk to him, to not worry about what they were meant to be. Day by day, bit by bit, the anxiety about their future started to leave her, and a warm sort of certainty had begun to take its place.
Her hand is still on the railing. Cullen hesitantly places a gloved hand over hers, but just before it settles there, Lana turns her hand around so that their palms are touching. “Gotcha.” She giggles, and intertwines their fingers together. Cullen's face reddens, but he does not object.
“Promise me you'll be careful.” Cullen quietly pleads, not meeting her gaze.
Lana grips his hand tighter. His gloved thumb gently caresses the skin of her nearly frozen hand, warming the small trail it leaves. Her smile doesn't leave her, and with her free hand, Lana gently swats him on the arm. “Cullen, I thought we were finally getting to know one another. You know I can't promise that.”
Thankfully, Cullen laughs. “I should have known.”
They stand like that for a time, hand in hand, before Cullen insists they get out of the cold. They keep their fingers twined together as they return indoors, to discuss their plans by the fireplace.
----
She may be an adult now, but the call of snow was too great to resist. Years of longingly gazing out the windows of the Circle during the winters had finally won over, and Ariadne had ventured outside bundled in as many layers as she could manage.
Sera had joined her, and the company was welcomed. They made a snowman together—or, a snow-Dorian, as Sera had called it. They found a stick to use as a staff, and a few leaves to craft into a rather dapper mustache. Try as they may to coax the snowman's namesake out to view it, Dorian had dramatically bemoaned that Southern winters would be the death of him, and had refused to leave his usual nook in the library. (or come out from the blanket he had taken over there with him.)
The girls had moved onto snow angels, then a playful snowball fight. The fight had been cut short when Ariadne took a snowball directly to the face, and at the ensuing numbness in her cheeks, had decided to take a break for now.
She entered in through Skyhold's massive front doors. Snow was piled in front of the entryway, brown and sludgy from the sheer number of boots that had trudged through it.
Skyhold's main hall was as busy as ever, even with the winter air that gusted through it. Varric's usual spot by the fireplace was a popular gathering that morning, as several people were huddled around the dwarf. He regaled them all with tales in the way that only Varric could—tales that, judging by the way Hawke (who was seated beside him) was hiding chuckles behind coughs, were probably not true. His entourage seemed none the wiser, and listened on with awe.
Ariadne continues further down the hall. She swings right and descends the staircase hidden behind the wooden door, stopping at the bottom of the steps in the giant room just before the kitchen. Ariadne had asked Lana before what the room was meant for, but her sister had shrugged and admitted to her that Lana didn't understand the purpose of a majority of the fortress.
The door to the kitchen opens before Ariadne can get any closer to it. Its pushed open by the shoulders of one Cassandra Pentaghast, who freezes when her gaze catches Ariadne's. The dark-haired Seeker's hands are full, a mug in each hand. Whatever is in the mugs is warm, as steam wafts up from it.
When the door shuts behind her, Cassandra stiffly extends a cup out towards Ariadne. She accepts it gratefully, and although she has no idea what it is, she's still thankful for the heat against her palms.
“Thank you, Cassandra.” She says, and is happy the uncertainty is not present in her voice, even as she warily eyes the contents of the cup. The liquid in it is a light brown, but thick, not transparent like the teas she's used to drinking.
“Its hot chocolate.” Cassandra clarifies for her, yet her expression is just as reluctant as Ariadne's is. “Iron Bull said it is popular in certain parts of Thedas, but I have never tried it.”
Ariadne has had chocolate before, of course, but never like this. Not wanting to be rude, she takes a careful sip from her mug and...is pleasantly surprised. Its warm and smooth, and amazing. “Oh. Cassandra, its delicious, thank you.”
“It was Iron Bull's idea.” Cassandra says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He suggested I get some for you. He said you would...be grateful.”
Ariadne smiles into her cup. “He said that?”
The Seeker coughs and blushes. “I am paraphrasing his vulgarities.”
Ariadne freely giggles at that, which only seems to further Cassandra's embarrassment. Ariadne's soul mate follows her lead and ventures a drink of the hot chocolate. Judging from her expression, she had not been expecting it to be as good as it was.
“I assume Lana has already told you of what will be happening at Adamant.” Cassandra says.
Ariadne's eyebrows lift in surprise, having been expecting (hoping) for conversation a little less...heavy. She answers Cassandra with a small nod, because yes, she had been told. She didn't like being left behind—the anxieties that always lurked in the back of her mind told her she was being made to stay at Skyhold because Lana thought she was incompetent—or worse, because Lana was playing favorites and doing her best to keep Ariadne away from the fighting.
It occurs to Ariadne that they have begun walking. Cassandra had taken the first few steps, and Ariadne unthinkingly followed alongside her. They walked side by side, until they found themselves out in the garden, under its awnings. The usually populated garden was empty due to the cold, leaving just the two of them standing there. Cassandra sets her hot chocolate down on a bench, and Ariadne copies her—she has no idea why.
“I will be accompanying the Inquisitor as she infiltrates Adamant.” Cassandra continues. “I may not always agree with her decisions, but I trust her. Our assault will have casualties, but I am not afraid—I truly believe she will lead us to victory.”
Ariadne nods along, not entirely sure if she should be saying anything at all.
“You are staying here.” Cassandra's words a little more stilted now. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, in a show of agitation Ariadne has never seen from her. “Sieges against fortresses can last for days. If the Grey Wardens put up a fight, we could be there for...”
Ariadne hums her understanding. Even with Lana going for their leader directly, the rest of the Wardens could choose to stick it out. Who knows how long the fighting would last—not including the travel times just to get from Skyhold all the way to Adamant.
“I'm not very good at explaining this. What I mean is...I wrote this all down, perhaps I should have had Varric proofread it for me...He's insufferable, but knows how to--” Cassandra interrupts herself with a grunt of disgust.
Ariadne opens her mouth to speak, but before any words can escape her, Cassandra has her hands on Ariadne's shoulders in a death grip. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second, before Cassandra surges forward and clumsily crashes their mouths together.
Its over in an instant, leaving Ariadne dazed and absentmindedly licking her lips. Cassandra tastes like chocolate still. She wants to throw herself face first into the snow for having that be the thought that strikes her first.
Eventually, it hits her full force, and Ariadne's face flushes so viciously that in any other context, she could have been mistaken for grievously ill. The warmth of Cassandra's lips still lingers, tingling where they had met hers.
“Oh.” Is all she can think of saying, because her brain is still face first in that snow. “I—I think you said it just fine. I'll miss you too—and stay safe and—actually--” Ariadne wraps her arms behind Cassandra's head and pulls herself into the Seeker's embrace, eagerly pressing their lips together again.
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anyway some jill/muffy trash thats really shitty quality but i needed a warm up so I wrote about gals being pals and kissing on a roof.
warning for like...drinking?? just mentions of it, and neither of them are drunk but idk warning just in case. also mentions of cheating cuz i took that one event with muffy in anwl where she mentions stuff like that so i just [drops the whole fic]
anyway i can’t write but what can ya do...........
-----------------
Jill isn't sure she'd ever get used to the darkness of the countryside. In the city, any glance upwards at the night sky would be clouded with glares of streetlamps and car lights, of apartment windows glowing far above her before the twinkle of stars came into view. But here in the valley, the cosmos above her felt endless. Stars stretching for eternity, surrounding her. In the late hours of the night, there was nothing but the sky, and the gentle chirping of crickets and frogs, and the distant but still audible sounds of the ocean.
The darkness, the stillness and silence...The valley was walking that fine line between beautiful, and unsettling. Had she been alone, Jill might have fled for her small farmhouse, flicked on all the lights, and sat in front of the TV until the alarming realization of the vastness of the universe was drowned out by the comfort of cringe-worthy reality TV.
Thankfully, she was not alone. Laying beside her on the blue and green checkered quilt was Muffy, and a half-empty bottle of wine between them. Used wine glasses lay forgotten by their feet.
Jill rarely drank, and she knew Muffy rarely indulged as well. Today had been a special occasion. Muffy had found her, wine bottle and glasses in hand, and insisted that night be a 'girl's night'. Jill had immediately obliged, and had brought Muffy back to her farm, where they made themselves comfortable on the roof of the barn, after much fumbling with a rickety old ladder Jill found in her shed.
They had drank mostly in silence, which was odd for the two of them; Muffy normally was able to fill conversations with talk of her work day, or her latest date, while Jill babbled nervously when it was her turn to speak. Jill was concerned, but she didn't try to talk through the uncomfortable quiet, not until Muffy seemed ready. She would be fine waiting there all night if she had to. Sitting here with her, with Muffy's golden hair shimmering as it caught the shine of the moonlight, was something Jill would never tire of.
“I broke up with him.”
Jill turns to look at Muffy, her expression contorting into one of (hopefully) sympathy. Her heart sinks a little, then plummets further at the thought of how selfish she was being by not being more upset for her friend. Jill knew Muffy had been seeing somebody in the city, and she had tried (and failed) to not let it bother her.
“I'm sorry.” Jill responds softly. She means it. As much as it may have hurt to see Muffy with someone else, it felt so much worse to see her upset.
“He told me he was seeing somebody else.” Muffy laughs bitterly. “Well, actually, he told me I was the 'somebody else'. Can you believe that? I broke it off. I wasn't going to help him cheat on his wife.”
Jill stares at her, mouth agape. Muffy glances her way, and the quiet, genuine giggle the blonde exhales at the sight of her expression is enough to pull Jill out of her stupor.
“I'm sorry.” Jill says yet again. She's not sure what else to do. She tries desperately to think of something more to say, and regrets her words the moment they leave her mouth: “Did you love him?”
“No,” Muffy answers. Jill notes that the sigh that follows sounds an awful like one of resignation, or defeat. “I suppose I didn't. I liked him, we got along well, I thought maybe that would be enough...Or maybe that is enough? I don't really know.” Muffy looks directly into her eyes. “Have you ever been in love before?”
Jill's mouth dries. Her palms begin to sweat with such intensity she was pretty sure she'd give the ocean a run for it's money in a matter of minutes.
“Yes.” She answers carefully, truthfully. She licks her lips, training her gaze back onto the stars above them, and pointedly not at Muffy.
“What's it like? How does it feel?”
Jill doesn't know how to answer. It feels like many things. Like flying, like drowning, like being tossed a football and being tackled by forty-seven quarterbacks simultaneously.
She lets herself steal another glance at the blonde laying beside her. Her golden curls, her emerald eyes, her ruby lips. Attractive features on anybody, but on her, they're stunning. Jill thinks about how Muffy's hair looks best when it's falling over her shoulders as she leans across the bar counter to whisper a secret to Jill. Her eyes are at their most breathtaking when they light up with joy along with one of her dazzling smiles. Her lips, in the moonlight, looking very, very kissable.
Jill quickly looks away.
“You just know.” She says after what feels like an eternity of deliberation. “You look at them and you think that as long as they're happy, you can be too. And when you see them, it doesn't matter how bad your day has been, because being with them makes everything a little easier to deal with. You think that as long as you're close to them, you can take on anything. Uh. You know. Cheesy stuff like that.” Jill sits upright and looks out over the fields of her farmlands. “You'll know when you find the right person.”
Suddenly, Muffy props herself into a sitting position as well. She does this so quickly that Jill nearly flings herself off the barn roof in fright. She manages to compose herself, and is able to remain perfectly still, even as Muffy brings their faces close together.
Jill blinks, but Muffy does not. The blonde waitress is watching her carefully, eyes traveling over the farm girl's face.
“You just know?” Muffy asks, and Jill can feel her breath on her face. She doesn't answer, and a silence falls between them. The only sounds are the crickets, the frogs, the ocean, and now the sound of Jill's own heartbeat, which feels like it should be loud enough to wake the whole valley.
She sees Muffy's intentions, the flicker of her eyes to Jill's lips being a dead giveaway. Jill's brain practically short circuits, and it takes her a solid ten seconds to realize the feeling of a pair of lips against her own. When she returns to reality, she feels it more in her chest than anywhere else. Warmth, nervousness. A million other emotions whirling by far too quickly for her to catch hold of for long. And Muffy's lips on her mouth.
Muffy breaks away after a moment, or a minute, or a hundred years, Jill doesn't know. Muffy is smiling, a small one, a gentle one with no teeth. Jill fails to keep herself from grinning from ear to ear.
“Hmm.” Muffy hums, nodding slightly. “Maybe I will know. I think I'm starting to figure it out.” She stretches, and yawns. “It's getting late. I should probably head home. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for everything, Jill.” She crawls over to the ladder, and before she disappears to the ground below, she offers Jill another warm smile. “I mean it. Good night.”
Jill sputters in response, and manages to squeak out a “'Night” before Muffy leaves.
She flops back onto the quilt, hands behind her head. With a grin on her face, Jill watches the stars, and swears that somehow, there are even more of them.
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