#animarosa

I’m actually…really proud of this. Lots of angst, character death, you know the drill

They had orders to take Julian back alive. If he was dead, there would be no spectacle, no grand execution for the masquerade. There would be no justice.

There were no such orders for you.

The guards weren’t supposed to have been there that night. Their rounds took a different path, far from the street you walked. It was why you had chosen it.

You turned a corner, and there they were.

One of them shouted, and they both drew their weapons. Instinctively, Julian drew you behind him, your arm wrapped in his vice-like grip. He glanced back, a scowl marring his face, only to see two more behind you.

“Damn,” he hissed.

“Julian,” you whispered.

He stared down the guards, chin held high, refusing to let you go. His eye followed one as they circled you, a cruel glint in their eye.

“A friend of yours, doctor?” they crooned, and Julian stiffened. The look on his face was like nothing you’d ever seen. You shivered. They reached out toward you, and Julian jerked you away.

“Don’t touch them.” Julian’s voice was low, almost a growl.

The guard’s expression hardened. He nodded his head in your direction.

“Grab them.”

Many things happened at once. All four guards surged forward, and Julian let go of your arm, letting his cape drop as he swung at the nearest guard. You mustered up a weak shield as another lunged towards you, and they stumbled back, but it wouldn’t last, you didn’t have enough time.

You turned to Julian, and screamed.

He stood facing you, with his arms outstretched. He coughed, and fell to his knees. His shirt was already stained a dark crimson, blood blossoming from the spear point bursting through his chest.

You screamed again, pure agony flowing from you in waves, throwing the guards back against the walls surrounding you. You ran to him, and the tears blinded you.

“Ilya, no, please, you’ll be okay, don’t leave me,” you sobbed. You fell to your knees in front of him, and he fell face-first onto you. The mark on his throat glowed white, brighter than you’d ever seen it before. He coughed again, and some blood bubbled from his lips.

You knotted your fingers into his hair, holding him to you tight, refusing to let him go.

“You can’t leave me.” Your voice cracked.

Why wasn’t his curse working? Why did his eyelashes still flutter, his breath coming in rasping bursts? You tried to let healing energy into him, but there was something dark blocking you. His face twisted in pain.

“Stop… it won’t work,” he wheezed. The corner of his lip twisted, and he laughed. “I’m going to die, my dear.”

“No!” You wiped the blood from his lips, dragging him into you so his head rested on your chest.

“I must confess…to die in your arms is far better than any alternative.” He closed his eye.

“Ilya, please, you can’t- I won’t let you- please.” Your tears dripped onto his face, mingling with the sweat and blood there. You cradled his head in your hands, helpless as you watched the color drain from his face, his breathing slow, his body go limp.

“Ilya, I love you,” you sobbed, but it was too late.

Thank you so much for the prompt. It took a couple of tries to figure out where to go with this but I also shouldn’t have been surprised it went to direction it did.

Sparring. Mud wrestling. Same thing basically, right?

Mud

The orange glow of dawn was slowly creeping across the sky. He had the perfect view to admire it, laying on his back outside the Herald’s Rest. Enarin never imagined he’d long for the snow and bitterly cold wind of winter, but right now it seem preferable to all the spring mud.

Enarin had hoped to get in a early workout before the rest of Skyhold woke up and started bustling around. He’d slipped in the first five minutes. He told himself it was good practice, they weren’t always going to have fights with ideal footing, and got back up. This was the third time he’d ended up laying in the mud and he was over the idea.

A sharp laugh came from above and Sera stuck her head of one of the windows in her room. Enarin waved half heartedly at her.

“Serves you right for making all that noise,” she yelled down. “Some of us were still trying to sleep.”

He gave her a thumbs up in agreement. Sera pulled her head inside and closed the window.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. At the sound of approaching footsteps he opened  them again. An audience, just what he needed.

“So, what’s with mud nap, boss?” a familiar baritone chided.

Laying on the ground, the hulking qunari seemed even larger than normal and, at this point, Enarin was very familiar with just how big the qunari was.

TFW U SHIP UR FRIEND'S OC HARDER THAN THEY DO