#bearlytolerable

If we fits we sits!

@ellstersmash’s victory commission from the 200 follower giveaway, featuring their Athi and @bearly-tolerable’s Makon!

Collaboration piece between the incredibly talented @bearly-tolerable and I for Elfebruary Day 9. Please go check out her blog, I love her Solavellan writing 💛

Art work: @scharoux

Writing: @bearly-tolerable

Wind Swept

The wind, it ripples through her cloak, embracing her in it’s grip like a haunting shadow.

Where are you Solas? Her heart aches with the loneliness she feels in his absence.

Her right hand grasps her left arm, rubbing up and down, friction in exchange for warmth. She stands overlooking the waves below her.

Is he ok? I miss him.

Frothy blue and angry, they lash out at the rocks.

Why did he just go? Why was there no goodbye? Why wasn’t I even worth seeing one last time?

“You said everything would be made clear after!” She screamed with the wind. “But you’re not even here,” she whispers.

The wind picks up, rain plummets down. Droplets kiss her cheeks, mixing with the tears. She sniffs, once, then wipes her eyes with her sleeve. He doesn’t deserve her tears. But of course everything’s wet and everything smears.

She clenches her jaw, huffs a sigh.

She shifts her weight, right foot to left, leaning on her staff. Both hands grip the wood tight, knuckles going white. She watches waves crash over and over again. Hostile and tumultuous.

Her emotions much the same as they wax and wane. Worry, rage, despair and despondency.

The cold nips at her fingers. It numbs her to her core but images of him flash through her mind.

Sweet kisses on the balcony, a dance in the moonlight, dimpled chin covered in paint, laughter in morning light and a broken heart left in a glacé pool.

She slumps her shoulders, heavy with the weight of shame.

What am I doing?

She turns away from the raging sea below her and forces her chin up, head held high and makes it back to her hart. She pats him down and hops into the saddle. She glances out at the horizon one last time before she lifts her hand and let’s it glow blue. A shimmering bird appears.

It trills and flaps on wings of magic, getting lost in the great gusts of wind. She watches it for a moment, lets her feelings ride on its spirit wings, then she closes her palm. She does not stay to see what it’s become.

GUYS, I have a new rarepair, and it’s all thanks to @bearly-tolerable‘s commission! Thank you so so much Bear for commissioning me! I loved this idea!

Pairing: Merrill x Abelas

Rating: Teen for vague sexual references

*******************

The orphans were Merrill’s favorite part of Kirkwall’s alienage. Varric’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when she said that to him for the first time.

“You like that there are a bunch of homeless, parentless children?”

“Of course I don’t like that they are homeless and have no parents,” she said indignantly. “I only meant that I like them. They are such dear things, you know. The smallest kindness lights up their faces. I know what it feels like to need kindness that badly.”

Varric’s eyebrows retreated from his hairline, and his smile was soft.

“I am glad you found someone who gives you that kindness, Daisy.”

Merrill felt her face flush at the mere thought of who that someone was.

Abelas.

Abelas, tall as an oak tree, and as strong, and as ancient, with his gold eyes and full mouth and dear, hooked nose, and his long white hair, and the way he called her vhenan, his voice rich and low in her ear, the words of their people as natural to him as breathing. He was a revelation to her in every way a person could be. He saw her - not as a fool, not as a lunatic, not as a maleficar or a traitor to her clan. He saw her intelligence, her determination, her light - and more importantly, he seemed to want to bathe in them all.

“After centuries of stillness,” he told her the first time they laid together, when they were warm and sated and in the circle of each other’s arms. “You are full of so much life, my heart. You make me see the world anew.”

“You make everything I have been through worth it,” she replied, and it was the truth. If Hawke had not betrayed her and denied her the arulin’holm, she might never have gone in search of other ways to repair the eluvian, might never have found her way to the Arbor Wilds and the Temple of Mythal and into the embrace of this man who really saw her, really loved her.

They’d come back to Kirkwall because transporting the eluvian was too risky, and while they had always discussed going back to the Arbor Wilds - especially in light of everything that happened with the Inquisition - Merrill found that the alienage was feeling more and more like home to the both of them. Her tiny house had curtains and flowers and a bed big enough for two now, and the alienage orphans knew they could wander in and out in search of a meal, or a bandage for a scraped knee, or a hug. Even Abelas had softened to them.

“It had been so long since I saw an elven child,” he said softly to her one cold evening, when two of the orphans were curled up on makeshift pallets by their fireplace, trying to escape the winter chill of Lowtown. “I had forgotten -”

Abelas let the sentence linger, but Merrill searched his face, followed the branching paths of his pale green vallaslin, and saw the longing written all over him, clear as that ancient writing. She slid her hand into his, nestled her head against his shoulder.

“We could have one, you know. I know precisely how they are made. Did they make children the same way in Elvhenan?”

Abelas let out a surprised bark of a laugh and turned to her.

“Yes. We made them the same way. And - are you in earnest? You could imagine having a child with me?”

Merrill thought back to the way he’d told stories to those two children by the fireplace before they fell asleep - the melody of his voice, the hope and strength he tried to impart to them when he spoke of their ancestors and the empire that was gone. She thought of his dedication to her, and to her dreams. She thought of his long dedication to Mythal, his strength and courage in leading her Sentinels long after she was dead. If they did have a child, it would not live in the world she had grown up in - no aravels, no Keeper, no isolation. It would not live in the world he had grown up in, either - no all-consuming duty, no god-kings. That was a good thing, she decided. A child would be a symbol of everything they both hoped for. Not Elvhenan remade exactly as it was, but something new, something that Thedas had never seen.

“There are times when I can think of little else, ma vhenan,” she said finally.

Abelas smiled, and then lowered his face to hers, and kissed her sweetly. He made a quiet sound of contentment, and then he deepened the kiss, and then deepened it again, and then leaned her back against the bed. Merrill surrendered to him, her heart fluttering with joy and anticipation. He sees me. I am no longer alone.

I think they would get along professionally but not really as close friends. Abigail is, or was, a commander. She’s used to be in charge, with her own missions and team. She tends to see Helen as a young, naive, idealist (a bit like Liara at the beginning of ME1). Also, Abby understands the role of the Pathfinder and its importance. She doesn’t want to cast any shadows on Helen’s role, because she’s “The Commander Shepard”, not to mention she’s supposed to be dead. And she’s mourning the loss of her crew, her world, everything. She’s not in a good head space to make friends.

Meanwhile, Helen would want to impress Abby. She remembers stories her father used to tell about Shepard, not to mention there was the whole Citadel saving, and the fact Shepard is the first human Spectre.

“Let me help you with that.” Dragon Age prompt for Bearly_Tolerable and DWC @dadrunkwriting Rating: Teen. Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Valina Voclain Word Count: 1,529. Tags: Fluff, Romantic Tension, Sexual Tension, Pre-Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Prompt, DWC.

[Click here to read it on AO3]

Scarred

By Roksana Lyasin

Cullen scratched a few more notes on the page, the margins filled to bursting with annotations. He lifted the quill for a moment, glancing at the half composed letter on his desk and shifted his focus to add another sentence, wanting to make sure his weekly summary report to the Inquisitor was as detailed and up to date as possible.

He glanced at his hand, at the streaks of ink that marked his skin. His gloves would have protected him from the tedious process of washing off the stains later, but there was something about the feeling of a quill in his fingertips that he found soothing.

He lifted his head when a sharp knock sounded on the middle door to his office but it swung open before he could answer. His pen stuttered on the page, ink spilling from the nib as she sauntered into the room, serpentstone gaze instantly capturing him.

He couldn’t describe the hold she had on him, except to say it was vice-like in nature, a force that could not be denied. He should be used to this now, used to her after weeks of these exchanges, yet still, he found himself stumbling over his thoughts with the barest look.

‘I have some reports for you, fresh from Leliana’s lair,’ she said, a wicked curl on her lips that kicked his heart into gear. Those red lips… the things they whispered over the chess table, the way they twisted his words, words he thought were innocent, turning them into something suggestive, something sultry. The way she seemed to savour his name.

Maker, will I ever be able to look at her without feeling this way?

He returned the quill to the inkwell before even more ink could flood the ruined page.

‘Ah, My Lady, thank you,’ he said, rising from his chair as she approached. He expected her to lean on the front of the desk but Valina was never one to follow expectations.

She moved to his side, settling on the edge. When she flicked glossy black curls over her shoulder her soft rosy scent drifted to him, teasing his senses. He fought the urge to inhale deeply, to relish the tantalising aroma.

‘Oh, Commander, what must I do to get you to call me Valina?’

‘I– is that what you would prefer?’

‘I think I’ll like the way it rolls of your tongue.’

Cullen opened his mouth but the words caught in his throat. He snapped his attention to the pile of letters in her hand and well away from her lips, from the tongue that swept over the plump flesh–

‘You said you had some reports for me?’

Valina stood, stepping closer to offer the pages to him. He expected the brush of her fingertips, but not the searing warmth that danced across his skin on contact, nor the answering heat that curled in her gaze. He knew she heard the small hitch in his breath, then, saw the subtle tension that weighed on his brow. She caught everything, read all the minute emotions that passed over his face and danced in his voice.

Cullen settled back into his chair, turning his attention to the pages. He skimmed through the reports that had arrived from all over Thedas. He would be able to squeeze them into his letter and send off a raven before dark. He paused on one, a location in Orlais – where exactly was that mountain again? It must be in that book – and placed the reports on his desk.

‘Thank you, my–’ he cleared his throat, standing– ‘Valina. Thank you, Valina.’

He tried to move around her in the small space behind his desk to reach his bookcase but even turning his body his arm brushed against her shoulder, and he paused when she hissed out a breath.  

‘Valina?’

‘Yes?’ she said, a smile on her lips. He’d grown to recognise the mask she put on, had seen her wear it in the face of others, but so rarely did she use it on him.

‘Valina, are you hurt?’

‘It’s nothing.’

He’d seen her take a fist to the stomach from Bull in the training ring, and he did not pull his punches. She’d hardly flinched, then. To see her do so with the mere brush of his arm against her shoulder…

‘Clearly not,’ he said, the book forgotten as he turned back to her.

Valina settled against his desk again, deft fingers pulling at the laces on the loose collar of her tunic to reveal further glimpses of bronzed skin.

Colour flamed on his cheeks, tongue stumbling over his words as he said, ‘oh, no, I meant–’

Valina paused, that wicked smirk on her lips again as she said, ‘relax, Commander. I know I’ve not convinced you to let me strip for you. Yet.’

She eased the loose collar over her left shoulder, his eyes drawn to a bloodied cloth. She peeled it away, gritting her teeth against the pain as she revealed the angry red slash. The jagged cut ran along the top of her shoulder, curving down her to her bicep where it finally tapered away.

‘Maker, Valina, why haven’t you been to a healer?’ Cullen said as he darted to his bookcase. He rummaged through a few boxes, finding his supply of elfroot balm.

‘I only returned an hour ago. Between debriefing with Josephine and bringing you these reports, I’ve not had time.’

‘The reports could have waited.’

‘You know I’ll take any excuse to see you, especially if I can make you blush.’

Cullen snatched his hand back down before he could rub at the back of his neck, focusing on the bottle in his other hand. He popped the cork out, holding it away from her when she reached for it.

‘Just… let me help you with that, all right?’

Valina watched him for a moment, serpentstone gaze assessing him, but she nodded her assent and he moved closer. He poured some of the poultice onto his fingers, the bitter smell biting at his senses after being surrounded by the sweet aroma of roses.

‘What happened?’

‘Bandits,’ she said, and he heard the venom in her voice, ‘they’re a plague on the highway, unlike anything I’ve seen since the Blight.’

‘How many?’

‘I lost count at fifteen.’

‘Fifteen?’

She scoffed. ‘That’s child’s play for me. A warm up. If not for a skilled mercenary that was tagging along in their caravan – who hid for the better part of the fight, the coward – I would have walked away entirely unscathed.’

Cullen shook his head, though one corner of his lip twitched in a smile, impressed by her gall.

‘This is going to hurt,’ he said, giving her a moment to brace before he pressed the thick balm into her wound. A breath hissed through her teeth, as before, but she stood firm, even pushed into his touch.

He worked quickly, smoothing the poultice over her wound and the surrounding skin, trying to be gentle, but the last time they’d been this close was the day she’d arrived at Skyhold, sauntering up the stairs and practically leant against his chest. He couldn’t help but steal a glance at her profile, tracing the pert tip of her nose, the soft curve of her bronzed cheek, the plump curl of her lips, and the way soft waves of her hair fell around her face–

Cullen glanced away when she lifted her serpentstone gaze, clearing his throat. ‘That should help with the pain and reducing the scarring, but it would be a good idea to go see a healer or even Solas.’

‘And here I thought scars were sexy.’

She captured him again and he fell into the serpentstone jewels, lost in the mischief that lit her gaze. It took all his willpower – failing, though it might be – to drag his eyes away from her.

‘Just… go see a healer,’ he said, returning the cork to the bottle, keeping his fingers busy as he resisted the urge to reach for her again, ‘please.’

He felt her studying him as she smoothed the cloth over the wound and righted her tunic collar, noting the glances he stole – always drawn to her eyes.

A soft smile curled her lips. ‘Well, since you asked so nicely…’

She pushed off from the desk, stepping closer. He’d never get used to this, he knew, this tempting nearness, the desires that flared deep in his gut as she trailed her fingers over his cuirass, the metal singing as her nails scraped along the surface. He’d have to get used to that wicked serpentstone gaze that captivated his attention before it dropped to his scar, and she traced her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, the action so fast he thought he was seeing things, hoping, wanting.

Valina glanced over her shoulder as she walked back towards the middle door. ‘See you later, handsome.’

@bearlytolerable this definitely calls for some Solavellan! ^_^

For @dadrunkwriting

Non-canon, set at the end of Trespasser.

Better by far you should forget and smile / Than that you should remember and be sad [Remember, Christina Rossetti]

Forget That You Had Memories, Lover Mine

“I have something to tell you.” Both Lavellan and Solas spoke at the same time, the two breaking into a soft laugh.

“You go first,” Lavellan smiled shyly up at him.

“I… I wanted a way to show you how I feel about you, vhenan. You have become important to me… more important than I could ever have imagined. And… the best gift I can give you… is the truth.”

“The truth?” she asked, confused.

He should have told her then. Not the lie he had spouted at the last minute, in his moment of panic. He had only wanted to protect her, he told himself. He did not want her to walk the dinan’shiral as he did. He wanted to keep her as far away from it as he could.

But…

He had given in to his weakness, to her, and in doing so had damaged her irrevocably.

“You have said your truth, Solas. Or is it Fen’harel?” she mocked. “It seems fitting, that I fell in love with the Trickster, for is that not what you did to me? You tricked me into falling in love with you, fooled me into thinking you felt the same, and then, one day, when all was right in my world, when I looked up at you and saw happiness, what did you do? You shattered me. You broke my heart, you broke me, and…” she choked out, “worst of all, you took from me the only piece of you I had.”

No. It could not be. He looked at her in horror.

“Yes,” she spat viciously. “That night in Crestwood… I was going to tell you I was pregnant. That I was carrying your - our - child. But I never got a chance to. You walked away from us. So easily, you left me there, you abandoned me and your child. Perhaps that was your intention all along!”

“What…” his voice was hoarse, “the child… what-?”

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t know, do you?” Her voice was cold, so cold he shivered from it. “Do you remember when we fought Corypheus? How I shouted for a barrier? You hesitated… I bet your attention was on the orb, not me. Corypheus struck me, and I fell… the impact…” she started sobbing, her cries of anguish piercing his heart, “I lost him,” she wept. “I returned to Skyhold, and you were gone, and then my baby was gone, and I was alone, all alone.”

“Vhenan…” if he could have set himself aflame, he would have. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He should not have left her.

“But it wasn’t enough for you, was it? I gave you my love, and it wasn’t enough. I gave you my heart, and it wasn’t enough. I gave you my body, my everything, but nothing I had was good enough to make you stay. You took everything from me, everything. And now, after two years of nothing, you are here again, and this time, you take my arm. To save me, you say, to keep me from dying, but who are you to make that call, Solas? Especially when you have decided that this world must come to an end! Why do you insist I keep living? Is it because you enjoy seeing me suffer?”

“No, vhenan, never, I never want you to suffer. I… I thought if I left, it would keep you safe…”

“Safe from what? Tell me, since your spy network has clearly kept tabs on me, tell me what it was that I needed to be kept safe from? Were you there when I fought the Avvar god Hakkon? Were you there when we ventured the Deep Roads, dawkspawn at every turn, to fight the Titan? No, you were not. So what exactly did I need protection from?”

“I walk the dinan’shiral, vhenan. I would not have you see what I become.”

Her laugh was bitter. “See what you become? But I have already seen what you have become! You are a man who would rather break the heart of his lover and abandon her and his child to serve his own desires. You are a man whose eyes are drawn to power, not to the people he has to protect. You are the man who took my child from me,” she shrieked, “and who has destroyed any chance of happiness for me!”

“Vhenan, please, listen to me, I did not mean to, I love you,” tears clouded his vision until the outline of her form was a haze.

“Why should I? Did you listen to me when I begged you to stay?”

“I did not know… if I had known, if you had told me then…”

“If I had told you, you would have felt obliged to stay,” she scoffed. “I did not want someone to stay by my side out of a sense of duty.”

“I’m sorry,” he knelt in front of her, his hand at the nape of her neck, pressing his forehead to hers. “I swear, I would have stayed if I had known, I love you…”

“But just loving me wasn’t enough to keep you, Solas, so how am I to believe that you would have stayed if you knew I was with child?”

“You cannot believe me so heartless,” he pleaded.

“I do,” she spat. “You want to end this world, do you not? Only someone without a heart would want to do that.”

“I wish to restore the People,” he tried to explain, “I have cost them so much. It was all my fault, and I must rectify it.”

“By causing the death of everyone in this world? Go ahead,” she mocked, “destroy this world like you destroyed our baby.”

He recoiled in horror. “You… I… how… how can you say that?”

“It is true, isn’t it? You were more concerned about the orb than you were with me. So go ahead, Fen’harel, destroy this world like you did me. Perhaps that will bring you happiness, since I - and our child - were not enough.”

He was dying. Her words sliced through him, the bitterness and pain and self-hate that coated them poisoning the wounds, slowly seeping into his blood.

“Vhenan,” he begged. “Please, I beg you, tell me what I need to do so you can be happy once more.”

Her shoulders slumped, and her head drooped. “Just end me, Solas,” she said, her voice so soft he could only just hear what she said. 

“I cannot,” a shudder came over him as he thought of her pale, lifeless body spread out on the ground.

She shrugged. “Sooner or later, you will,” she looked up at him with a sad smile. “If you end this world, and I am part of this world… do the math, Solas. You’re smart.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said earnestly.

“I don’t think I know how to, anymore,” she admitted.

He had brought down to this, a shell of the person she once was, and of all the things he hated himself for, this was the worst of it.

“I can help,” he said softly. Unable to resist the temptation, he captured her lips, the kiss soft, gentle and filled with all the love he had for her - the love that he should have shown her before now, when it was too late. He poured his apologies into his, his hopes and dreams for her, and, as her eyes fluttered shut, he cupped her face between his hands and pushed his magic into her mind, delving deep into it and pulling out the threads within the tapestry of her memories that bore his name.

When he had removed every last one that was related to the love they had once shared, the love they had for each other, he drew back, his heart clenching with searing pain as he watched them dissipate into the wind.

“What-” she began, confused, but he shushed her gently.

@bearlytolerable I saw your superhero AU thing and my hand slipped. I wanted to add some more stuff and echo back to his trespasser armor a little but I felt like he should be slim???