#assassin elf

Elf 1 - 5

I really love the PC pairings for Inquisition (Inquisitor/Inquisitor), so I sort of want to go through and do each Inquisitor paired with each kind of Inquisitor.

He worried at the bracers pressed against his wrist, his fingers slid under one and pulled it a bit looser before switching back to the other one.

Was it nerves? He never got them, not like this. This he knew, he could navigate these situations with the accuracy of a dagger between a target’s ribs. He had confidence, swept on like his vest in these moments. Yet for some reason, it seemed he had lost that particular garment.

“Lethallin?” The soft question rang from outside his door, still charming and silken to his eyes. He felt it, the ball of heat burn brighter in his chest and the leather confidence fell around him. His smirk weaved back into place and a steady gait carried him to the door, throwing it open so he could lean in the doorway. His sharp blue eyes glinted in the half-darkness at his guest, raking over the other man with no hesitation and no care.

“I was almost worried you wouldn’t show.”

“Almost?” A matching smirk teased back and his companion leaned in, the other elf’s hand reached up to brace on the casing above them. Both elves were mere breaths apart, wearing smirks that challenged one another. Mythal’s and Dirthamen’s confidant tilted his head against the door jamb, waiting for Andruil’s soldier to make his move.

A chuckle escaped Andruil’s-claimed and he pulled back, folding his arms behind his back. The smirk faded into a smile, though his bronzed eyes flashed with lingering mischief.

“Da’assan, you wished something of me?”

“The Keeper’s letter.” Mythal and Dirthamen’s-shared nodded into the room, he took a step back and allowed his companion in. The visiting elf strutted in with his arms behind his back and his long red locks followed after, he moved immediately to Assan’s desk and sat down in the leather-padded chair to read the letter.

“You showed this to the First already?”

“Nathare got it first, she passed it on to me for us.” Assan strolled over, standing behind his friend. He glanced again over the written words, speaking of the clan’s home now in Wycome. He started a bit at his guest laughed suddenly, though the seated elf didn’t look up.

“I find it hard to believe our sister would let Da’assan run off with this very important letter.” The teasing in the voice hardly showed on the man’s face, as he dutifully scanned the letter.

Assan waited patiently, his fingers again drawn under his leather bracers to pull at them. His confidence burned slow and constant in his chest, leaping only when his companion sat the vellum down.

“Da’assan--”

Assan quickly reached around with a huff and sealed a hand over his friend’s mouth, loose enough to pull away and tight enough to stop the words. He leaned in, making sure his steady breaths pulled across the other elf’s ears and he watched the pointed ears twitch with a growing smirk. That confidence slid downwards in his body and curled into a swell of even deeper heat.

“My name is Assan and I am far from being a little arrow, lethallin.” His chuckle was deep and breathy, as he continued to enjoy the shudder of the other man’s long ears. With careful movements, the other man brought his hand up and lightly pulled away the hand over his lips. His tongue slid across the slightly cracked lips and his breath came out in small, burning puffs against Assan’s hand. A moment stilled between them, before the red-haired elf grazed his thin lips across Assan’s palm and whispered against the sensitive skin. A shiver of heat sent through Assan’s body at the words.

The first time Caswyn and Assan had to exchange gifts, what did they get each other?

Assan took a breath, leaning back against his door. The air full of wood and the subtle tinge of smoke, how he liked it and wanted it. A small smile stretched upon his face seeing his room exactly as he had left it, despite how much time had passed.

Or at least it was almost exactly as he left it, his blue ice eyes glanced to the empty spot on his low-legged table. He pushed himself from the door and maneuvered himself through his crowded room to the table. Once he reached it, he leaned down to touch the empty space. Assan remembered exactly what he had left there among all his other knick knacks and objects. His small smile grew and he flopped back on to his chaise, kicking his feet up into the empty spot. He felt contented with the fact it had been the brat to roam among his things, he wasn’t sure he’d have been as forgiving if it had been anyone else.

There was a soft knock at his door and he hummed, leaning his head over the back of his chaise.

“Come in.” His voice carried through the silent room and the door slowly pushed open.

“Assan.” Caswyn addressed him, carefully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. Assan felt himself brighten in spirits a little more at the Trevelyan’s presence, to no longer be alone and imprisoned in his own head.

“Came to check on me?”

“Maybe. Are you feeling okay?”

“As fine as someone who went through possession could be, I suppose.” Assan chuckled despite how deep and dark that thought really felt, dropping it down into the bottom of his stomach to be forgotten.

“Stop acting like it’s a joke, you were dead.” Caswyn’s voice came out leveled, but held such a chilling accusation. Assan could almost say that the little spoiled brat felt slighted at him leaving no more than a bunch of strangers behind, what a silly thing to be upset about. The human barely knew him and he barely knew the shem. At most they shared a bed more than once, but there was a difference between knowing someone and knowing someone’s body.

“I wasn’t dead, brat. I just wasn’t here.” He let out a sigh and wondered if the little Trevelyan would leave it at that. The human had definitely become more vocal in his absence.

“We thought you had died, you walked away to what we all thought was death with a Maker forsaken smile. You left us--”

“You took my figures.” Assan interrupted, focused back on the empty spot where he rested his feet. His head tipped forward again to stare at his leather boots and he crossed them, before looking back to Caswyn still at the door.

“I...I did.” Caswyn’s response came out slowly, a frown on his face as he obviously picked up on Assan’s change of topic like he always did. Clever, prideful, little shem that he was.

“What did you do with them?”

“We have them on the war table. If you want them back, you’re welcome to take them.”

Assan hummed again, resting his head back again to stare at the ceiling.

“Keep them, I don’t need them.” Assan dismissed the offer, a smirk quirked his lips. “Did I do you justice? I worked very hard to carve you just right, in all the right places.”

Caswyn coughed and Assan’s smirk slid into a grin, though he wondered how Caswyn first reacted to seeing the wood carving of himself. Something Assan made with his own, impatient hands out of boredom and with a little too much care. He may have been casual with the little Trevelyan, but he still appreciated the man’s attractiveness and his willingness.

“It was nice, actually. I was honored you took the time to make a figurine of me.” Caswyn’s unnecessary response made Assan nod and a small silence fell over the room, though Assan could hear the tiny brat shuffling in the background. Trevelyan eventually breaking their quiet by clearing his throat and Assan’s view of ceiling was blocked by Caswyn’s visage, The human looked down at him, searching for something with those gorgeous iron-cold eyes. “I want to repay you somehow.”

“A kiss might work, maybe a bit of your time. We elves are so plucky and desire demons are so misleading.” Assan chuckled again as Caswyn let out a huff, the human settled his arms on the chaise back above Assan’s shoulders.

“I was thinking of something more material and long-lasting?” Caswyn emphasized.

“Hm, I don’t know. I don’t really need anything at the moment.” Assan explained, his hand reached up to play with the cuff of Caswyn’s glove.

“What do you want, then?” 

“You bent over? Or just the nice silks of your bed, that would be wonderful.”

“Assan.”

Assan laughed at the glare he recieved, the other man’s face slowly reddened more and more at each tease Assan gave.

“I don’t know, truly. I don’t get gifts, sometimes I give them and sometimes I take them. I like boots, what about boots?” Assan offered and relaxed further into the cushions, the moment almost felt like he never left. As if he had never suffered at the hands of a demon or needed to be brought back, saved, by the brat.

“Boots then, I’ll have a custom pair made.” Caswyn assured him, the noble nodded and pushed away from the chaise.

“Or you could just as easily give me a sweet taste of you and save yourself the trouble.”

“Or you could get my boot up your ass.” Caswyn’s lips twitched in the slightest as he forced a sigh.

“True, so very true.” Assan laughed again and Caswyn stepped out of Assan’s sight, his boots thudded against the floor as he movd towards the door. “Thank you, brat.”

Something from an AU for the storyline verse I share with my friend, where both Noble Trevelyan and Hunter Lavellan become Inquisitors and eventually husbands. The Alternate Universe being were one of them doesn’t make it to the end and rather ends up succumbing to red lyrium, which they pretty much decide to keep the Inquisitor locked up for Dagna to study red lyrium and the progression of the change caused by it. So yeah, wrote out some of that.

Warning: violence, gore, blood, gruesome red lyrium imagery

The door swung inwards with a soft creak, letting the cold breeze push up from the cells and wash over Inquisitor Lavellan. The Inquisitor treading forward and down into the cold, dark spiral of the dungeon. The braziers lining the steps burning low, the fires would need to be fed again soon. The footfalls behind him clapped and echoed along the stone walls, sliding against each of his thoughts and making each of his own steps feel heavier. He could feel the piercing gazing shooting through the back of his head, settling as an arrow would within his skull and he expected no different in this moment. This was not something he wanted either, something he wanted to do, or where he wanted to be. What laid at the bottom of the stairs he’d rather leave buried and unknown, but the man behind him was all to willing to dig up all the mistakes he’d let slip by him.

“Inquisitor.” The guard tipping her head as Assan descended from the last step and came to a stop by her, her eyes pulling to his guest and she stood a little straighter with her head bowed lower. “Lord Trevelyan.”

The shemlen let out a grunt, brushing past Assan and knocking him from his already unsteady, hesitant stance. The man rushing in long strides to the crumbling, dirt-filled cell to their left. Assan could already hear the huff of anger in the noble’s throat, a chill running through him as he nodded to the guard and slowly made his way to where Lord Trevelyan stood.

“Ser Bann, I’m very--”

“Do not speak to me, knife ear.” The noble growling deep from his throat, his eyes locked on the prisoner. His own son reduced to being a captive in his own Keep, corrupted and mangled by red lyrium. The little boy he watched grow up now so torn apart, all because of an attack no one could stop. Assan could never stand to look at it, he wondered how Bann could hold his son with such a steady gaze. Though Assan felt his stomach drop as the sharp look was turned on him, Bann looking with such disdain. “What’s the matter, elf? Can you not look at what you’ve done? Where are your loving, teasing glances now?”

Cassandra jumped and Assan had to grin, folding his arms on the back of Cassandra's chair.

"Inquisitor!" The Seeker spun around, slamming her book shut. The flush of her cheeks was so adorable and satisfying.

(}==[======>

“How about a story of my childhood?”

Assan leaned onto the table, the quiet murmurs of the tavern relaxing him. He took a breath from his pipe, savoring the smoking cinnamon and tobacco.

“I suppose that is fine.” Cassandra eyed him warily, hoping that this story would not fall into the same lewd category as the others had. 

"Let's hear it then." Varric leaned back in his chair, ale in hand as he waited for another one of many of the Inquisitor's conquests.

“Let see, where to beginning. Well, I was an awful child and an even worse elf. I never listened, pissed all manners of humans and elves off, far too smart for my own good, and was always a bit...spontaneous with my affections.

(}==[======> <======]=={)

“LAVELLAN!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Don't 'yes ma'am' me, young man!” The older elven women, ran her fingers through her snow-white hair. She would swear on Andraste's ashes that it was the elven boy in front of her that caused her hair to turn as pale as it was, his urge to frustrate her apparently too great to resist.

“Hahren Aleia, what have I done now.” The little elf tilted his head, his unruly black hair falling in his face and his blue eyes peaked from between the strands. The large eyes gave him the look of a lost puppy and tore at Aleia's heart, she sighed and tried to maintain her stern look.

“Beldir says you've been bothering him again.” Aleia dropped down to her knee, forcing the child's ice blues to meet her own leaf green eyes. “Have you, little one?”

“I'm not bothering him! It was just a kiss, Anneth says when you love someone you kiss them!” The little elf stomped his feet and crossed his arms, turning from the elder.

“Assan, I do not think that is the kind of love Anneth meant.” Aleia took the little ones face in her hands and brought his eyes back to hers.

“I don't understand, is love different for City Elves? Is it because I'm Dalish!?” The little elf started to sniffle, once more tugging at Aleia's heart.

The poor boy never did feel like he belonged here in the Alienage, but then so few of the elves welcomed him with open arms. Assan's mother had left her clan while with child, apparently the Dalish woman had lost her husband to the wilds and could not remain among the pitiful looks her clan sent her. She had been bed-ridden on and off for a few months now, leaving the little Dalish babe to roam on his own as an outcast among the City Elves. It was his appearance that frightened the others, looks that spoke of the wilderness. Assan had black hair unlike the lighter colors of the City Elves, something that made him easy to spot in the Alienage. It barely helped that he refused to let someone cut his hair, though Aleia blamed that on Anneth telling him about how he shared his mother's beautiful and flowing black hair. His exotic, narrow-cut, ice blue eyes were also an abnormality in the Alienage. The expressive eyes could freeze grown elves in their tracks when angry, had even stray hounds enraptured when shining with joy, and broke even human hearts when filled with tears. All of this was second only to his foreign, tanned skin that to the others were a sign of wildness and ferocity. The tone was so much darker than what could be found in walled off community, many elves claiming it made him look like a wild barbarian than a lonely child. It hurt Aleia even more when it became apparent how observant the boy was, able to pick up on all the simmering hatred stemming from his origins. Aleia tried desperately to change it, to get the others to see that the hate and preconceptions among the two groups of elves would never unite their race as one again if it continued.

“Dear, there is no difference in the love two beings share, no matter their race or heritage. There is a difference between types of love, though. Assan, you don't kiss someone on the lips unless you wish to spend your life with them. Forever.” Aleia smiled, expecting the wide eyes of understanding the other children had after the explanation. Of course the wide eyes would then be followed by the horrified whisper of 'forever' and a desperate cry of wanting to take the kiss back, sometimes punctuated with screams that she/he was yucky and ugly and forever was too long and it was a mistake. Aleia had expected all those reactions, but only because she momentarily forgot this was Assan, the too observant and bold Dalish boy.

“But I do want to spend forever with Beldir! I want to give him more kisses, all the time! And sleep in his bed with him, like when Íron stays the night with Anneth!” The little elf looked up at Aleia with chilling, stubborn eyes, narrowing them as his disobedience grew. Aleia was speechless for once in a long while, unsure of what she could say or what experience she could pull from.

“Yes... well... Anneth and Íron have agreed to spend their lives together, little arrow. Did you ask Beldir if he wanted to be with you forever?” Aleia was both relieved and saddened when Assan dropped his head and shook it. She was glad she did not have to think of what more to say had he rejected her explanation again, but knew Beldir's rejection was only one of many Assan had and would face. “If you can promise me you won't do it again, you can join the others at the Vhenadahl to play.”

“I promise Hahren. Ma'arlath.” Aleia's heart warmed hearing the elvish words Assan had been spreading around the Alienage, whether the others cared for him or not they had all been speaking more in the ancestor's tongue since his mother had arrived and begun sharing the old ways. Though the Dalish boy only knew what little his mother taught him, he was still reviving their culture and Aleia could be no prouder.

“Hahren?”

“Ah, Anneth. I was hoping to speak to you.”

“About our da'assan I presume?”

“Yes, do you have any idea what he did today?”

“Cut the purse of an Orleisan nobleman, took up peeking in the human bathhouses, and stole a pair of the Íron's and Seron's breeches; all before breakfast.”

“I... what?!” Aleia stared at the young elven woman and then in the direction the eight-year old elven boy ran.

“Oh yes, didn't even get caught until Íron walked in on him thumbing through his treasures. Like I said that was before breakfast... so what did he do after, since that is apparently not what you were referring to?”

“That boy is wearing me thin.”

“From the look of things over there by the Vhendahl, I'd say he is trying to wear Nimdes' lips right now.”

“ASSAN!”