30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE (DRAGON AGE).
LIAWYN LAVELLAN//CULLEN RUTHERFORD.
WORD COUNT: 2196.
There was something calming about the meditative silence that hung over Skyhold’s gardens in the early hours of evening. Most of the pilgrims were attending the daily evening services at the Chantry. Proper members of the Inquisition had stumbled off in search of food or company. Liawyn’s companions and her advisors rarely looked for her there and, if she was careful, she could blend into the shadows and effectively find solitude for at least an hour or two. As the sun set in the sky, the shadows of the battlements stretched over the trees and grass and flowers, fading away nature’s colors until it was impossible to tell that they were even there.
Until it was impossible to tell that they were already fading away to begin with.
Liawyn pulled her knees into her chest, huddling further into a dark corner with a good view as she watched the doors to the Chantry. What must it be like, knowing the teachings of your religion instead of aimlessly chasing wisdom that had long since been lost? Was it easier? Would it be enough to ease her ever curious mind? Could the Maker bring color back into her world?
Or was she doomed watch what had once been brilliant fade until there was nothing left.
“Inquisitor-?”
It was a soft voice that rescued Liawyn from her thoughts, gentle and laden with concern. The Chantry service had ended and the gardens were silent. Cullen stood in front of her now and she was suddenly very aware of tears in her eyes. She chanced a look at him, terrified that the comforting brown of his eyes and brilliant gold of his hair had faded away as well but they were still there and so was he.
“What’re you doing here? I want to be alone.” She spoke into her knees, her voice muffled and heavy. She never had been very good at lying - she choked on ‘alone’ as it passed her lips, accompanying it with a barely concealed sob as she pulled her knees tighter into her chest.
“Someone mentioned I might find you here,” Cullen replied. He tried very hard not to sound wounded, using the same tone of voice he did when they attended meetings with Leliana and Josephine instead of the more delicate tone he usually reserved for her. As he gestured to the open space next to her, Lia bit back her desire to apologize, “May I?”
“No.” She shook her head, but still made room for him to sit down next to her, moving back towards him once he’d settled down. He was warm and the fur at the top of his coat tickled her cheeks as she leaned against his shoulder. As their shoulders touched, she remembered the soft yellows of the sun in the Fade and the way those colors faded into pastel blues in the sky.
Thinking of the Fade only made it worse. Her heart clenched in her chest, threatening to stop entirely, and she set her hand down in the last bit of empty space between their thighs as a sort of emotional barrier. It wasn’t even because she didn’t want to be close to him but because her own naive openness had caused so much trouble in recent days.
“Cassandra mentioned you had some difficulty in the field.” He tentatively rested his hand over hers, looking back across the garden, “Do you-”
“I am the Inquisitor. I don’t have difficulty in the field. I’m not allowed such a luxury.” Liawyn spoke before he could finish his thought, with a very certain tone to her voice.
“Liawyn,” He laughed, forced and awkward, “No one’s here. Tell me what happened?”
“I-”
I was disobeyed. I failed. I couldn’t stop pointless slaughter - of an innocent spirit or of innocently ignorant mages. No one deserved to die. If we had been there sooner, I could’ve stopped them from performing the summoning to begin with. If I had been there sooner, I could’ve helped and Solas wouldn’t-
“I didn’t stop Solas. I lost him.” She finally concluded.
“You lost Solas?”
“Not-” Liawyn shuffled, “Not properly. Not permanently. But he was so hurt and there was nothing I could do to stop him and he just- he killed them and left. He’s back but- He just killed them, Cullen. He didn’t even give them a chance to redeem themselves. He killed them and I let him. What am I supposed to do now? I wouldn’t have let one of my soldiers get away with something like that and Solas- Solas knows I’m against senseless violence. But he-”
Cullen listened. He was good at listening. He took in the information she offered without correction or objection or unwanted input. When she stopped to wipe tears off her face, he didn’t offer a sarcastic remark or quip about how childish it was to cry. He remained steady through her rambling, fingers tightening around her hand just enough to remind her that he was there. And when she’d finished, he stayed quiet for a very long time, staring up towards the slowly darkening sky in contemplation.
If it was anyone else, it would’ve been uncomfortable, but with Cullen the silence was soft. A sort of gentle peacefulness to steady her racing thoughts. She was about to break down her boundaries, shift just a little closer and chance another small bit of intimacy, when turned to look down at her.
“Do you love him?”
Green erupted back into her world, so blindingly vivid that it made her stomach churn. It washed out everything in it’s path, even the soothing color of Cullen’s eyes as they stared hopelessly across the garden, leaving nothing but searing neon green in her vision. The color of the Rifts. The color of the Breach. Everything shimmered in that horrifying shade of green for what seemed like an eternity and Liawyn’s only anchor was the way Cullen’s hand turned to grasp hers more firmly when he realized she looked ill.
When the world was finally normal again, the proper meaning behind his words registered in her mind. He was frightened. To him, Solas must’ve seemed steady - available and free of complications. It probably seemed inevitable. He knew her language and her culture and his endless wisdom was a perfect match for her thirst for knowledge. And what did Cullen have to offer, especially when he had such a terribly negative view of himself to begin with. Especially when he couldn’t see how much of a comfort his presence was without it being spelled out for him.
“No.” She felt frantic, speaking with a firm certainty that might’ve seemed intimidating to someone who didn’t spend most of their time with her. If she did love Solas, it wasn’t in the way that Cullen feared. Admiration and attachment and something sort of platonic and hopeful, certainly, but love- the kind of love that Cullen meant- it wasn’t something she’d experienced before that day Cullen had kissed her on the battlements and set slowly fading world ablaze for just a little while longer. “No…”
“Could you-” He spoke with uncertainty now, quiet and embarrassed, like a little boy dancing around a taboo subject. As if to prolong the inevitable, he pulled her close and slowly wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head and exhaling softly. “I mean- Do you-”
Love you?
Yes.
“I-” She knew she was blushing, but she still wasn’t certain either of them could properly see the color - just a telltale darkening of her cheeks. To her, it would’ve been dull but the shades of red would’ve been there still. What would he see? They hadn’t really discussed it yet. It hadn’t ever been important.
They say only children and lovers can see every color.
“When I’m with you- when I think about you-” She struggled with the words, “I can still see yellow. Brown too, y’know? Always.”
“Brown?”
“Your-” She made an uncomfortable, almost distressed sound, clinging to the back of his shirt, “Your eyes. They’re- They’re brown. And your hair. It’s yellow- Golden really. And no matter what- even right after Haven. Even- even when everything’s lost. I can still see see shades of brown and yellow.”
Cullen was quiet for a long moment, breathing steadily into her messy hair as he processed his thoughts. It must’ve been more personal for Fereldens. It was a common topic of discussion for Orlesians, she’d been told, and Leliana and Josephine had always been relatively forthcoming with what they could and couldn’t see. For the Dalish, it was tradition for your primary color to be represented in your vallaslin, and it was often mentioned but never a matter of consequence. But for Fereldens-
Even Sera had been relatively private about what shades she could see, in a way that was shockingly uncharacteristic of her.
“Blue.” He finally whispered, pulling her gently into his lap as the word escaped his lips. “It was…blue first. I saw it in your eyes, back in Haven, but I didn’t…know what color it was until- I saw the sky.” His hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, warm fingers pressing against her cold skin in an attempt to pull her even closer. “I haven’t seen colors since…sometime early in my Templar training but- When you are near I can- I see colors I don’t even remember the names for.”
Each word passed his lips with just a hint of uncertainty. He was speaking against her neck now instead of into her hair, his breath rolling along the length of her ear and pushing strands of hair out of it’s way. She could feel goosebumps rising along her arms and legs, but didn’t find the sensation uncomfortable. It was more of a tingling just under her skin - something she’d only felt when they were like this. Relaxing into his embrace, Liawyn rested her head against his shoulder, pressing a soft, encouraging kiss against his neck.
“Leliana’s hair and Varric’s shirt…they’re the same color.” He picked up again after a short pause, his body putting off more heat than usual. If he could see red, could he see the way her flush raced up to the tips of her ears? “Did you know-? At night, the sky it’s not black it’s this- deep blue and- I mean, you probably did know that and-” His words stumbled, focus roaming away from the conversation as it dawned on him exactly how close they were. “Grass and trees…I can see that now too. It’s everywhere…even…the mark on your hand…”
“That’s green-”
She closed her eyes tightly, afraid the color would envelope her world again as it had just moments ago. Instead, the hand that had been pressed against her back reached up to cradle her face and Cullen kissed her with with such intensity that it knocked the wind out of her. She moved like she’d been struck with a bolt of energy, fingers lacing together behind his neck as she pulled him closer in a motion that felt desperate and delighted and right. They stayed like that for a moment and the whole time Liawyn kept her eyes shut tight, but she knew if she opened them, color would bloom into the world.
Bright. Oversaturated. Delightful. Only to fade as quickly as it had come to the dull monotone she had to live with now.
“It’s green-!” She tried to say when he pulled away for air, only to but cut off when he kissed her again, both of them laughing through the kiss now. She squealed softly in protest. What if someone saw? What if people started talking? He’d said he wanted to avoid something like that, but here he was kissing where anyone would see. She finally managed to catch his attention when he pulled back again, both of them breathing heavy puffs of air that streamed into the night.
“Come upstairs with me.” The words left her before she had a chance to think them through. Was it a question? It didn’t sound like one. Was it supposed to? She didn’t normally bark orders at him, but this didn’t seem like an order either.
“I thought we agreed-”
“I don’t care.” She whispered, breathless and desperate and burning for him. “If they wish to talk then let them talk. What business of theirs is it if we-” She blushed, gesturing instead of finishing her sentence. The gold in his hair seemed to shimmer like actual bars of metal. The soft almost auburn patches of fur in his cloak burning more brilliantly than any fire. “I don’t know much about politics and I don’t understand the reasons Orlesians gossip or why it’s bad that they do, but I can’t bare the thought of you leaving my side tonight.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. If this feeling, the way the world brightens when I’m with you, is love, then please…” Her face still burning red, Liawyn gently shifted so that she was straddling him, her warm core brushing against his as she eased all her weight down, “I want to drown in it.”
30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE (DRAGON AGE).
FARANNI LAVELLAN//LIAWYN LAVELLAN. FARANNI LAVELLAN//SOLAS (MENTIONED).
WORD COUNT: 1734.
Small growls of frustration filled the library as she stared desperately at a blank piece of parchment, trying and failing to magic words out of thin air in the same fashion the library regulars around her seemed to be doing with ease. Writing had never been her strong suit. When she’d been with her clan, she’d only been taught the basics of literacy because Liawyn had been desperate for someone to practice with, and in the time since she’d learned a little more thanks to tutoring from Dorian and Solas and Finn. Still, she was more articulate with a bow and arrow than she was with quill and ink, and being bad at something served enough to frustrate her, especially today.
It had been more than half a year since Liawyn had been killed in the explosion at the Conclave. Faranni had initially planned to celebrate, so to speak, by riddling a defenseless straw dummy with as many arrows as she could find. Then, if she didn’t feel better, maybe she would craft or buy more and send those flying as well. Anything to take her mind off the sting of loss that still burned just beneath her skin. Anything to make it go away. Would it ever go away? How many Red Templars would she have to kill before she could sleep without being plagued by nightmares?
Would the cycle of revenge ever satisfy itself?
This whole writing escapade had started with Dorian and Finn ambushing her at the shooting range, one on each side. Finn had mentioned before that her blind rage wasn’t exactly healthy, but had never complained about the fact that the same rage was what got things accomplished in the field. She could go berserk better than the best bruisers, mowing down unarmored enemies with a downpour of well placed shots. But perhaps the fact that her anger hadn’t died down had the Inquisitor worried. Josephine had mentioned that her temper didn’t exactly sit well with the nobles, and Finn couldn’t very well expect Solas to babysit her every time they had company.
Or maybe he was just being a good friend. In her heart, Faranni wanted to believe that she’d made friends beyond Solas. She wanted to believe that Finn had her best interests in mind, that he had her back, but the black pit of anxiety in her stomach screamed otherwise.
“Riddling templars with arrows is all well and good and you’re an excellent shot,” Finn had said, handing her an ornate box that housed the quill she now spun in her fingers, “But Dorian and I think it might help with your emotional constipation to write some of it down. It’s supposed to be…I don’t know, therapeutic, I guess. And it’ll help with your writing.”
They two of them led her back to the library, set her up with some parchment, and told her to write about her feelings. A letter to Deshanna or Sorrel. Perhaps to her parents? Dorian had even, after they wrestled her bow away from her, recommended trying to write a letter to Liawyn. “And burn it after,” He’d said, “Or keep it. Whatever makes you feel happy.”
And so she sat, unable to escape because Finn had stationed Dorian right around the corner. Write something, she told herself, twirling the quill between her fingers, It’ll be good for you. It’s what Lia would’ve down.
What Lia would’ve done.
It’s been a bit over six months since they sent you away. You smiled when Deshanna gave you the news and said you’d never really fit in with the clan anyway. Too much curiosity. Too much of an interest in the ways of the outside world. Maintaining and conveying our history wasn’t enough for you. When you told me the news, that you were honored to be sent, I told you that if you left I’d never accept you back. I said you should never come back. I was angry and I didn’t mean it literally but it seems like you took it literally anyway.
For all your cleverness, you always were sort of airheaded.
Her hands shook. Vision blurring with tears as memories that had been locked away bubbled to the surface. But still, she had to continue. This is good, she told herself. Facing these memories was good. A good way to honor Liawyn. And she didn’t have a choice in the matter regardless.
I came to Haven looking for you. Instead I found the Inquisition. I think you would have fit in faster than I did. So many different races and cultures working together - it would’ve been a sort of paradise for you. All held together by a human mage named Finn. He let me stay and in a lot of ways, he’s been looking out for me ever since. I wonder if the two of you would’ve gotten along. Sometimes I wonder, what if you had been the one to survive and he had been the one to die. I know it’s a morbid thought but if you’d been in his position…
What would you have done?
Would you have shared your optimism with the rest of the Inquisition? Would you have brightened their outlooks on life, in the same way you brightened mine? Would you have shared your beautiful, colorful soul with them, eager to learn everything they could teach you? Would you, six months after the explosion of the Conclave, sat down to write a letter to me?
Would I have read it? Or would I still be so blinded by anger over your leaving that I would’ve-
The quill fell out of her hands, body shaking with grief over her actions and her loss. Faranni pressed her back against the chair, trying to put as much distance between herself and that damned letter as possible. She drew her knees into her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs - effectively made herself as small as possible and wept.
For what she had done. For what she could have done. For what she had lost.
It seemed like hours. Hours that neither Finn nor Dorian came to find her. Hours that no one came to her rescue while anxiety mingled with sorrow to form something inexplicable. Something that told her, loudly, that she should die. She would deserve it, after all. She had no right to be angry over Liawyn’s death when she’d been the cause of it. She had no right to be here, fighting at Finn’s side, when she frequently imagined a reality where he was dead. She had no right. She had no right. She had no reason to live-
Her spiral was stopped by a hand on her shoulder, gentle yet firm. It pulled her back into reality. The reality where Finn was alive and Liawyn was gone. The reality where she had been given a chance to exact her revenge. The reality where she was the only one left to offer herself forgiveness. When she looked up, she was met with grey eyes. Wise. Familiar. And full of sympathy.
“Breathe.” Solas told her.
She did as instructed. A breath in and then a breath out. And another. And another. And another until finally she managed to release her legs and let them slump back down to the floor. “Why are you alone?” He asked her.
“They-” Her voice still shook, but she did her best to appear strong. Solas knew otherwise. He knew of her fear, but it was nice to pretend, “They thought it would help to write about my feelings. Instead of wallowing in my anger. I think maybe Finn was afraid it might consume me. I think maybe he was trying to help.”
“A wise notion,” Solas agreed, kneeling down next to her. His hand never left her shoulder, “But I think it is unwise that they left you alone to do it.”
“I couldn’t write while they were watching,” Faranni confessed, “So Finn asked Dorian to keep an eye on me, but-”
“If I had not seen you, I would not have known something was wrong either.” He admitted, “You told me what Dorian and Finn think you need. Tell me what you think you need.”
“Quiet. I thought I needed to shoot something, but I shoot things every day,” She watched him nod in agreement, a feeling of validation and something else pooling in the pit of her stomach, “I need quiet. I need-”
“The dead cannot forgive the living.” It was harsh. Too harsh. Spoken strong enough that she flinched when they were said, “But from what you have told me of Liawyn, I don’t believe forgiveness is needed. I think she would have been happy to see you surrounded by people who care about you and I think she would have been honored to have you fighting for her.”
“People who care about me?”
“Of course,” Solas rose to his feet, coaxing her up with him, “Do you think Finn and Dorian did this to torture you?”
“Well, no, I-” She steaded herself against him, warmth spreading through her body where it had been cold just moments ago, “I thought Finn wanted to reign me in.”
“I think if Finn had the chance, he would unleash you upon every noble to step foot in Skyhold. I think, given the chance, he would encourage you to heal in whatever healthy way you deemed necessary. Isn’t that right, Inquisitor?”
The tips of Faranni’s ears went red when she realized Finn was watching them, leaning against a nearby bookcase and smirking like the smug little shit he was. Immediately, she shoved away from Solas, the blush creeping further into her freckled cheeks as she went to swipe her letter off the table. Solas rubbed his shoulder where she’d shoved him, feigning injury, and Finn laughed, “Don’t stop on my account.”
“I know it might not be your way of doing things, but I prefer to keep my personal matters personal.” She said proudly, turning to hand him the damp piece of parchment she’d snatched off the table, “I wrote the letter.”
“You don’t have to give it to me.”
“Then…what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Like Dorian said, keep it. Or we can burn it.”
“Yeah,” The thought of burning her pain, her anger, her shame, bright a smile to her face, “Let’s burn it.”
30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE (DRAGON AGE).
SOLAS//LIAWYN LAVELLAN. CULLEN RUTHERFORD//LIAWYN LAVELLAN (MENTIONED).
WORD COUNT: 1687.
Solas hadn’t expected the Winter Palace to be so spectacularly colorful. In fact, he’d expected it to be dreadfully dull or obnoxiously loud, considering it was common knowledge most Orlesians couldn’t see more than one or two colors, if they could see any at all. To his surprise, the gowns and masks and decorations glimmered with colors he’d long forgotten, brighter now than they’d ever been before, and the reason flitted about the palace, charming Orlesians in her silky green gown. It flowed behind her like water, dancing through the air with every graceful step of its wearer. It gave Solas an almost childish sense of pride to know he was likely one of the few people who could see it.
Liawyn had been anxious about this mission. She didn’t know much about Orlesian customs, let alone how to dance or speak or walk properly. She’d been raised in the woods, after all, and no amount of reading could teach her how to properly execute something in person. All her reading had made her a quick learner, however. She’d taken to The Game with relative ease, seeming to instinctively know who to smile at and who to flirt with and who to let Josephine and Leliana deal with. That too, gave Solas a sense of childlike pride. Not only was she curious and clever, she was charismatic and charming.
And tonight she was an absolute vision.
He could hear her laughter from across the ballroom as he entered, the colors surging and over saturating in a way that threatened to induce a headache. Beautiful and sickeningly sweet. She stood near the commander, one hand resting almost protectively on his arm while she feigned laughter at a joke one of the noblewomen had told them. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” She was saying, brilliant eyes flashing in the lamp light, “The commander here is spoken for.”
Solas knew what she meant. He was aware of the fact that she and the commander had started seeing each other in a more intimate fashion. He was happy, even, that she’d managed to find some sort of brightness to cling to in the dark. But somewhere deep in his stomach stirred a jealousy he couldn’t quite explain. How could he be expected to share his light, his color with the world? It was a new type of affection, one he couldn’t say he remembered feeling for, and it seemed a painfully foreign notion that her attention could belong to anyone but him.
When Liawyn caught sight of him lurking in a nearby corner, her eyes lit up. She muttered an apology to the group she’d been speaking with, gave Cullen a gentle smile, and excused herself, spinning in a way that made her gown float through the air. Green still, but- was it bluer than before? More like sea foam now. Foam forming in the wake of her wave of movement.
She glided towards him, smiling at this noble and that, before stopping in front of him and holding out a jeweled hand.
“Dance with me.” It was a command more than a request, one that he couldn’t comply with for fear of damaging her fragile reputation.
“That would win you few favors with the friends you’ve managed to make tonight, Inquisitor.” He tried to keep his tone even and serious, despite the way the colors around him fluctuated and brightened when she looked at him, “I wouldn’t want to hurt your progress.”
She glanced around, seeming to gauge the situation based on the information he’d provided, before looking back at him, eyes as fierce as the sea, “Why would dancing hurt my reputation? This is a ball isn’t it? That means we’re meant to dance.”
This was unlike her usual questions. She wasn’t interested in the answers now. She was challenging him to change her mind. “I’m an elven apostate,” He explained, “And you are the Inquisitor and an elf besides. They have their doubts about you already. I find it best not to test murky waters.”
“And I find testing limits is the only way to see how long they can hold before they’re broken,” Liawyn grinned, extending her hand farther in an effort to show she wouldn’t be swayed, “Dance with me, Solas. I would have them see you are no more of a threat than I am.”
If only she knew. “And what if your assessment of me is wrong, da’len?”
“Then death shall fall swiftly upon me. I would stake my life upon the belief that you are, above everything, a good man,” She bent down to take his hand, smiling easily as her gentle little fingers entwined with his own, “Dance with me. Please.”
“If you insist.” There would be no more argument. He followed her, begrudgingly, out onto the dance floor.
“I do.” She was proud. Proud and clever and confident. It was dazzling and confusing, that someone so naive - that such a novice could be so proud.
In one swift movement, he shifted their stance so that he was the one in the lead, grabbing her waist just a little too tightly and flashing her a wolfish smile. “Did you practice before we came? Aside from when we were introduced, I haven’t seen you on the dance floor.”
“I did,” Her cheeks were red, taken off guard by her sudden loss of control and the hold he had on her. As they started moving, her eyes darted towards the edges of the room, to where she’d been standing before entertaining the large group of noblewomen, “With Cullen. While Josephine made notes and corrected my posture and movements.”
Solas followed her eyes, taking note of the way they were being watched, and then glanced back to her while she wasn’t looking. The silk of her dress looked much bluer now. The colors of the deepest parts of the ocean, green giving way to teal. It set a small seed of anxiety deep in his stomach, “Good. I intend to test your retention of that information.”
And away they went, gliding across the dance floor at an upbeat pace that put her on guard. Her brow knit together, blue eyes narrowing in concentration and mouth slightly ajar as she mumbled the count of the beats. Watching her was fascinating, as always, and pushing her was even more entertaining. How far could he go? How much could he get away with? He didn’t want her to break. On his life, he swore he didn’t want her to break, but part of him was always curious to see how far her eternal optimism could be stretched.
How could anyone see the world like she did without getting tired?
“You’ve spent a lot of time with the commander this evening,” Solas remarked, pulling her just suddenly enough to keep her off balance, “You haven’t forgotten what we’re here to do, have you?”
“Just giving everyone something to gossip about,” She quipped back, eyes trained on their feet now, “Josephine and Leliana said Orlesians love to gossip and that creating intrigue would be beneficial to the cause.”
“I’m not entirely certain your relationship is a good thing to start rumors about, especially if you aren’t serious.” The last word was punctuated with a rather extravagant dip.
“I can assure you,” The words came out jerkily as he pulled her back up and she stopped the movement when their faces were mere inches apart. To anyone else it must’ve looked horribly errotic, only furthering to exaggerate the rumors, but in truth it was all an elaborate argument, “We’re quite serious.”
He spun her with nearly enough force to fling her across the dance floor, grip tightening on her hand, “Then why did you insist on dancing with me, da’len?”
She blinked at him, caught off guard. It was a subtle way of bring her attention to the rumors that were bound to be circulating the ball room. She’d just said Cullen was spoken for and here she was, dancing with the Inquisition’s apostate instead. Even if the meaning was far from what others would assume - even if they shared a bond that wasn’t quite explainable with words alone, people would always try to put labels on things that didn’t need them.
“Because you’re important to me, Solas.” She rebounded from the surprise as quickly as he’d thrown it in her face, “And I want people to know. Romantic affection - it isn’t the only kind that exists, and it’s far from the most important. After all, you’re expected to have more friends than lovers, and I think those friends…the really close ones, they can be more life changing than any romance.”
She used his surprise to take the lead, a smile breaking out across the face that was brighter than a thousand suns. It set him at ease, knowing that despite everything she could still find a smile. They rushed across the floor in steps that were not entirely Orlesian and not entirely Dalish. They were something special to Liawyn. Just to Liawyn. Bright and sparkling and joyous. She spun, jumped, laughed and even this, he knew, would dazzle those watching. It was impossible not to be dazzled. Everyone could see how bright she was. How colorful she was.
But he was the only one who could see her colors. He was the only one who could see the way they melted together, so reminiscent of how it had been before the Veil was erected, and what she said only furthered to affirm this belief. In these moments, when the world seemed to be only them, those colors were brighter than ever.
Just as suddenly as the song had begun, it ended. They came spinning to a halt and, still smiling, Liawyn released his hand and spun back to Cullen. She gave the commander a smile only he ever received. Gentle and breathless and loving. Different from the one she reserved for Solas, but no more or less important.
And as the lamplight flickered and their dance came to a definitive end, Solas swore her dress had turned blue as the sky.
30 DAY PROMPT CHALLENGE (DRAGON AGE).
CULLEN RUTHERFORD//ELENA AMELL. MODERN AU.
WORD COUNT: 941
There was something about the way the water rushed through the river after a rainstorm that had always felt heartbreakingly nostalgic to Elena. Even when she’d just moved to Haven and everything else about the town felt soul crushingly foreign, the thundering sound of water had been familiar enough to give her just a little bit of comfort. It reminded her of the waves crashing along the beach at home or against the walls of the Circle Tower and even if those places didn’t hold the fondest memories, they were familiar enough to give her comfort. Elena had always been a habitual seeker of comfort.
Even now, with everything that was happening, she clung to the familiar in order to ward off the uncomfortable despite the fact that familiar things were the very source of her discomfort.
That was why she’d found herself sitting on the bridge overlooking the river. That was why she found herself desperately trying to conjure up the image of waves on a beach in order to calm herself down. She’d nearly taken Quinn’s head off when he’d confronted her outside her cousin’s party. Nearly hurt a child, one of her closest friends’ child, out of some misplaced pride.
“You used to be as great as Hawke. A leader among mage rights activists. Now you’re just a washed up loser. A stupid waitress with a crush on a former templar. What the hell happened?”
What the hell had happened? She’d been worn down by wave after wave of confrontation. Worn down from hurt after hurt. One too many friends lost. One too many times her heart had been broken. And now - one wrong step and the waves would wash her out to sea.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there, her teal scarf wrapped tightly around her ears and her phone dangling loosely from her hand, when she heard heavy footsteps against the old and weathered wood. They were as nostalgic as the sound of the water and heavy like they carried the weight of the world. Were they heavy enough to weigh her down? Heavy enough to stop her from being dragged away by the current?
“I missed you at Hawke’s party. He said you’d be there.”
“I was supposed to be,” Elena managed, shoving her feet through the railing and letting them dangle out over the edge. Even at this height, she could feel the spray of the water when it caught on a stray bolder. What if she got up on the edge? Would the current take her with it? All the way back to the sea? Would he stop her? “Something came up.”
“Something came up,” He parroted, stepping towards her. The closer he came, the more she felt hope and dread in a swirling and constantly evolving mix that she couldn’t articulate even if her life depended on it, “I can see why you bailed. Nothing quite like watching a flooded river at-” He checked the time on his phone, “-eleven o’clock at night.”
“Well I came here to practice skewering my enemies with ice shards, but it’s dark and I didn’t have a good target. Until now, at least.” She spoke without thinking and realized it almost instantly, glancing around to make sure they were really alone before continuing, “You better be careful. There’s no telling what an unhinged mage can do.”
“You’re not like that, Elena,” His tone conveyed his bottomless trust for her more than his words and as he sat down, dangling his legs off the edge of the bridge, Elena found herself scooting just a little bit closer, “Even with everything I’ve seen you go through, you’ve never been unhinged or out of control.”
“You don’t know what I was like after-.”
“I don’t need to know.”
Elena turned her head to look at him and found more beauty and comfort in the sincere look he wore on his face than she’d ever find in all of nature, “You trust me? Even if-?”
“Yes.”
They fell into silence and Elena couldn’t say how long it lasted. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Lifetimes? She could’ve spent lifetimes here, she knew, as long as he was there with her. The thought was almost embarrassing. They hadn’t even broached the possibility of re-establishing a relationship, let alone what they meant to each other now. And yet here they sat, both of them completely at ease with the other so long as outside forces didn’t interfere.
Cullen was the one to break the silence, “When I didn’t see you, I thought that maybe you were with Bull,” He tried to hide his jealousy with laughter, but it only made it sound worse, “Varric told me he was working late and you hadn’t been at the diner but-”
“I’d rather be here than working or at some stupid party for my cousin’s friends.” She cut him off, trying to keep her tone firm and her voice from shaking as she closed the distance between them, their shoulders bumping against each other awkwardly. Elena left so much of what she’d been hoping to say unsaid, praying to Andraste that it’d reach through. Even if they didn’t have the courage to broach the subject. Even if everything went left unsaid. She wanted him to know-
He set his hand down in the small gap between them, pinky finger entwining with hers, “Me too,” Relief was palpable in his voice, his finger tightening around hers just enough to pull her back to shore, “Me too.”
And for a second Elena thought, just maybe, he really could be the anchor keeping her feet on solid ground.
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