..lion --- heart..

some of y’all on this hellsite need to learn to either nut up or shut up in regards to practising what you preach and that’s all i’m going to say

@makerguideme ♡’d for a starter! 

when she had been in montsimmard, she dreamed of accompanying vivienne to parties like this. she would sit for hours in the first enchanter’s quarters and listen to her tell stories about the parties she attended. she would imagine what it might be like to wear a gown of the finest silk and to meet a handsome stranger on the dance floor. maybe, if she was lucky, that handsome stranger would whisk her away and she’d be afforded the same freedoms as vivienne. 

but the echoing music and the din of chattering socialites has her head pounding; instead of being allowed to dance and enjoy the party, she has a duty to track a killer and charm the court; and the only man that she is interested in is being fawned over by women far thinner and far lovelier than she could ever hope to be. 

or at least he had been, but in the chaos caused by the unmasking of florienne as the potential murderer of the empress, he seems to have slipped away from all the women hoping to catch his eye, herself included. luckily, she is the only one who knows him well enough to track him down. 

she finds him sitting alone in the gardens, far enough away from the grand hall that the sounds of the party are nearly drowned out by the sigh of the wind and the chirping of crickets, and her already fragile heart fractures into pieces at the sight of him. golden curls are knocked out of place by nervous fidgeting and his uniform is noticeably disheveled and she knows just by looking that it had been too much.

the crowd. the music. the stress. those women. 

she struggles to keep her steps measured as she walks to him, shoes clicking each time they came into contact with the cobblestones. when she finally reaches him, she leans forward and drapes her arms over his shoulders, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. for a moment she is silent, listening to the sound of him breathing and the crickets singing, but the moment is brief. her silence is broken when she turns to press her lips against his ear, fingers gripping the front of his uniform.

❝ i love you. ❞

he needs AIR.  there are too many bodies crowded around the ballroom, too many tittering gossips swirling around every hallway and corner inside the palace to the point where -- even though the TRUE danger is gone -- he’s finding it difficult to calm his nerves and still his pounding heart.  everything is too much.

the people, the wine, the tight cut of the uniform leliana has somehow bullied him into -- each and every aggravation seem to chip away at his sense of calm until there is nothing but PANIC left.  it’s too familiar.  

it’s too much like kinloch.  their whispered promises, their flitting touches, grabbing at him, pawing at him...it’s too MUCH, and he needs air.  he finds it in the gardens, settling himself shakily onto one of the stone benches.  out here, the pulse of the music is quieter.  he can hear the crickets and the breeze, the trickling of the fountain and the soft murmur of voices that seem far away now that he’s surrounded by beautiful, cold air.  

he gulps down several lungfuls in deep breaths that make his chest ache with how deeply he inhales.  it’s free of the smell of sweat and perfume, full of the smells of dirt and cold stone.  it’s grounding.  it’s cool.  it’s refreshing.  he feels his nerves settle somewhat and allows himself to simply BREATHE.  

it is here that she finds him, eyes closed and trying to still his breathing, the tension still radiating from his body. 

he knows it’s her by the sound of her footsteps; he’s memorized the way her footfalls sound, and so he barely flinches when she moves behind him and drapes her arms around him. he leans into the embrace, visibly relaxing at her touch.

         from the people in the KITCHENS. that’s how rosalie found out about it all. she enjoyed cooking and baking herself so she decided to get creative that day. even if she didn’t always chat with the other people there, they ended up talking amongst themselves and she LISTENED. someone mentioned the news about commander cullen, and rosalie’s ears perked up. she didn’t move an inch, not letting anyone around her know she was paying attention.

        however, it quickly became impossible to pretend. one of them said something about a baby. elena was PREGNANT. immediately she stopped doing what she was doing and dropped whatever she was holding, making the room go silent. for a few moments she didn’t know how to feel. that void didn’t last long and FURY settled in. she turned around quickly and started for the door. 

        she was going to KILL him. and then her. angry tears filled her eyes but none fell, she wouldn’t allow them to. rosalie found him rather quickly, guided by her wrath. he had spotted her and it just made her walk FASTER. as soon as she was within grabbing distance of him, rosalie slapped his arm.  ❝ how DARE you? ❞

        she was absolutely against using VIOLENCE for anything. rosalie was a lover, not a fighter. but she never felt SO BETRAYED before. she slapped him again on the other arm.  ❝ you would have ME— ❞ another slap  ❝ hear about your CHILD— ❞ another  ❝ from STRANGERS in the kitcheeeeens? ❞ and she started slapping him over and over again, frantically. it probable wasn’t even hurting him, but she NEEDED IT.

“that’s ENOUGH, rosalie,” and her BROTHER is gone. in his place stands the COMMANDER, stern and unyielding, eyes sharp and expression hard as his hands wrap around her wrists.  it was one thing for her to pitch a temper tantrum in private, where it was likely warranted.  he HAD intended on telling her, once he himself had wrapped his head around everything.  he had INTENDED on proposing to elena first, too, but it seems as though the maker has a cruel sense of humor.  

this was MEANT to be kept quiet.  he had not wanted word to get out, not just for the CHILD’S safety, but for elena’s. for his own.  what will THEIR ENEMIES do once they learn that she is with child?  how will the mark on elena’s arm affect the babe?  

maker, what if the child is a MAGE? 

he’s already DROWNING in uncertainties and fear, and now there’s another complication -- his sister’s apparent insinuation that she should be the FIRST to know.  

           the fact he couldn’t find the words to properly apologize to her just made her ANGRIER. tears streamed down her cheeks, but didn’t lessen her resolve. ❝ i never wanted your stupid coin, we were doing FINE, we just wanted YOU! ❞ she yelled, more frustrated than she’d ever felt before.  ❝ i… just wanted you. ❞ and nothing would ever justify him being far away for such a long time and not even bothering to visit more. 

          if he wanted to convince her that he DID miss his family, he was doing a terrible job at it.  ❝ and you know what? i can SEE you’re hiding something. you’re ALWAYS hiding something and it’s INFURIATING! if there was a reason why you decided it’d be better to ABANDON us, then just tell me! make me understand! ❞

“ I DIDN’T ABANDON YOU ! “ and this time, he could not help the anger and impatience that seeped into his tone.  he wanted to be patient with her, to explain the REASONS why she was better off without knowing the man he HAD been, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.  he had never intended for them to find out about kinloch...at least, not the extent that he suffered nor the man he’d become under meredith’s guidance in kirkwall. 

he wanted, more than ANYTHING, to be a man she was proud to call family, to be the brother she so obviously IDOLIZED in memory, but he wasn’t that man.  he had not been that man for  many, many years, though he hoped to make up for it if she would just STOP acting a child.  “not WILLINGLY, at least,” he amended, pinching his nose between his fingers.