#thomera

Hey, remember how I said I wouldn’t be writing because I’m working on DnD?

Apparently, I lied, have some SolmeraxThom, also tagged Bladaar, sometimes Thomera if it’s post-revelations.

At the very beginning of Trespasser, based on the scene where your Inquisitor wakes up and he’s not there and she’s sad and scared for a minute.

Solmera wakes in the middle of the night, eyes slowly flickering open in the dark. The softest beams of silver light fall through dark curtains. Indigo, she remembered, like an afterthought. In the night they looked black but they were blue in the sunlight. She bundles the blankets a little closer to her chin, curling to keep her feet under them. As she turned she smelled him, wood, metal, leather, somehow the scent of hay still stuck to him, though it’d been ages since he slept in the Skyhold stables. She smiled sleepily, ignoring the smallest sound of fabric ripping, a small tug on her head that told her she’d gored yet another pillow in her sleep. She reached for him, closing her eyes as her fingers traveled over the too-soft plush covers.

Nothing.

Something sharp and tight closed in her chest, around her throat long before her eyes snapped open again. She sat up, slowly on shaking arms. Her eyes opened as wide as they could go, seeing nothing except the barest suggestion of shapes against the wall. A wardrobe, couches, a small table with two chairs facing the windows.

“Thom?” Her voice was too soft, unsure and shaking.

Still nothing.

She clenched her jaw, throwing the blankets off and swinging her legs out of bed. Her fingers clenched tightly at the edge of the mattress as she shut her eyes, her breath hissing softly between her clenched teeth. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, once, twice before she gave up and stood to take a long, steadying breath. That sharp, hollow something in her chest was still there, like shattered glass just barely held together, one breath and it was gone.

Solmera let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, slowly unclenching her hands before she curled them into fists again, nails cutting into her palms. She waved her Anchor-hand, lighting the numerous candles, braziers, and the hearth, bathing the room in warm, orange light. She spread her hands out towards the fire but she didn’t feel the warmth. She heard the door open and didn’t turn to face it. That’d be too much to hope for.

“... ‘Mera?”

Her breath caught in her throat but she didn’t turn to face him. Relief, hot and painful rushed through her, her summoned fires spluttered before steadying. The slow shuffle of feet, no, socks on on tiles. She flexed her fingers, jaw clenched tightly against the hot prickling on tears in the corners of her eyes.

Gentle, hesitant hands with rough palms slowly circled her waist, callouses catching on the thin fabric of her nightgown. She spun, almost too quickly, and squeezed him tightly in her arms, burying her face in his tangled mess of hair. Blackberries and sage, he’d used her soaps again.

She chuckled, a broken sound as hot tears raced down the sharp lines of her nose.

“I’m not going anywhere, ‘Mera.”

She laughed, or tried to, it came out like a sob. His arms, strong even for someone so much smaller than she was, tightened around her. She crushed him closer, shutting her eyes and nuzzling into his hair.

They stayed like that for awhile, hugging each other so tightly their arms shook. She moved first. She always moved first now, like he wanted to be sure she wanted him to let go before he did. Or maybe he just liked to hold on that little bit longer.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mera, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” A tentative hand brushing the sleep-mussed hair away from her cheek, the soft rasp of calloused hands on much softer skin.

“I shouldn’t frighten so easily-”

“‘Mera,” He stopped her, thumb lightly stroking her cheek, “I have watched you stare down your nose at gods, titans, dragons, god-dragons and you’ve never flinched, not once. I left you. Because I’m a fucking idiot but I’m the luckiest fucking idiot in the world because you took me back, gave me the chance I don’t deserve,” He sighed, like for a moment the words caught in his throat, thick like molasses, “I love you. Now, what can I do so I don’t frighten you again?”

She laughed, really laughed this time, soft and breathy but it sounded like joy, “Wake me when you get up at night, I don’t care how often you have to do it, just wake me up, tell me you’re leaving and you’re coming back.”

“I can do that,” He reached up with his free hand, cupping her face as he pulled her down to rest his forehead against hers, she giggled a little, stifling a yawn, “Back to bed, My Lady?”

“Back to bed, Ser Rainier,” She lightly kissed the tip of his nose, making him grin.

Solmera snapped her fingers, more for show than anything else, snuffing all the lights at once. Thom laughed, his rough hands easily finding hers in the dark. The green of the anchor flashed brilliantly, once she would’ve called the light eerie but by now it was just light, a fact of being who she was.

She led him back to their bed, scooting over under the covers until she laid where he’d been before she woke. The pillow still smelled like him, leather, metal, wood, the softest hint of blackberries and sage, she wasn’t sure if that was him or her. It didn’t matter.

He slid into bed next to her, pressing close to wind his arms around her again, his head comfortably resting on her shoulder. She grinned wide, pressing a kiss to his forehead, earning a chuckle and a playful nuzzle under her chin. His beard tickled her skin. Solmera laughed a little, wrapping one arm around him and tugging him close.

“Goodnight, Thom.”

@thesorceress-hera

Annie had announced that she was pregnant on Instagram. Even though she hadn’t tagged him, it made everything feel far more real. Every part of this made it feel far more real. Each step of the process. Every morning (or, whenever morning was to him), when he opened the refrigerator for the cream to put in his coffee, he saw the little black and white image and it was real all over again.

And every time he went shopping, or out anywhere, he saw a baby or a toddler, and it was real all over again. He thought about it all the time, even though it was hard to conceptualize it. Annie wasn’t even really showing yet. He had no idea when that would start. Or when he’d be able to feel the baby kick, or if Annie would even let him. His sister had, only once, when she’d been pregnant, and it had been really freaky, to be perfectly honest, but kind of cool too. 

Tom didn’t know anything. And he had--bought a book or two, but they were mostly geared towards women and talked about all sorts of things that he didn’t even understand. 

One day, mostly by happenstance, Tom saw a flyer on the bulletin board of the Moon Market. “Preparing for Baby.” He scanned it a few times to check to see if it was something for women, but it didn’t necessarily say. So, Tom had taken a photo of it with his phone and then set an alarm on his phone.

And on Monday, at six, he stood outside Town Hall dubiously, but he had come this far. There was nothing to be ashamed of, considering he was a new parent. No one--was born knowing how to do this sort of thing. Well, okay, Tom was actually pretty sure women were but he needed help from somewhere. It was supposed to come from his wife, but he didn’t have a wife. He had a woman he didn’t really like, who was the mother of his child. 

Tom climbed the stairs and then pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was that it was predominantly women. Actually, it was almost all women. Except for a few men scattered about, presumably with their partners. And one group with two men and a woman...whatever was going on there.

Tom’s eyes jumped around the crowd and, then, he cleared his throat and hedged towards the space right next to the door, leaning against it with his shoulders scrunched up by his ears, his cheeks hot beneath his beard.