Leaves attempting to slice at skin, but falling short as her arms push them away from her bared face.
Air rushing into her lungs, only to rush back out.
Red filling her vision as she finally breaks through the brush and out into the open.
‘Taevi-!’
Her body froze as she tried to take in the scene in front of her: elven bodies splayed out on the bare ground next to the aravel, sacks torn open and boxes smashed alongside them. Herbs, woodcrafts, and other goods were strewn around.
“Is this really it?” She heard a gruff voice say in disbelief.
Thud. A box hit the head of a body. At the sight, she could feel rage coil through her, building up in her arms and the tips of her fingers. With trained speed, she reached behind her for her bow and let an arrow fly in the direction of the human who had spoken.
It had flown right past him, not even alerting him to her presence.
She could feel hot tears of anger prick at her eyes. That should have hit! He was large enough that any arrow could have hit. She opened her mouth to get his attention, ready to yell every dalish curse she knew, but her throat was too sore for any noise to come out.
‘If I can’t yell at you, I’ll just beat the living shit out of you,’ she thought, dropping her bow to the ground as she began to run at the human who had moved back to join his group of thieves.
Her hands curled into fists as tears began to fall, and finally a scream of pure rage ripped itself from her throat, forcing the humans to turn and look at her.
Before her fists could connect, however, her mind went blank at the sight of two familiar scars and an equally familiar flash of red hair.
Her left hand suddenly felt like it was on fire, and she jumped up in bed with a start. Tears still fell.
“What?!” She yelled out loud, knowing no one else in Haven would be awake nor would they bother their ‘Herald.’ “Should I not trust them?!” She pushed her burning hand into her chest, resisting the urge to run. It was one she had grown familiar with over the past eight years, but it was becoming more prominent in her life after the Conclave.
She didn’t trust any of the humans who surrounded her, and even Solas made her uneasy. Varric reminded her too much of herself which could easily become an issue, and she wished that Serra wasn’t so uppity about her being Dalish so they could drink together.
As her heart began to slow back down to its usual rate, a knock came to her door.
Her ears raised in anticipation of an attack, and she quietly reached for the dagger under her pillow.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and her grip on the dagger’s hilt couldn’t decide if it should tighten or loosen.
“Apologies, Heral-”
“Atheva.”
“A-Apologies, Atheva,” Cullen stammered before clearing his throat. “I was unable to sleep and happened to pass by. I was wondering if you might need anything?”
Her cheeks began to burn furiously. He heard her nightmare-induced screams and now he was pitying her. She pulled her hand out from under her pillow, leaving the dagger behind, and sighed.
“No, Commander,” she said, lowering herself back under her blanket. “Thank you for your concern, but I won’t be needing anything from you.”
She closed her eyes, but heard him briefly inhale as if to speak once more before the door shut. A sigh bubbled up in her throat before escaping as a yawn, and that’s when the door opened once more.
Yvad Trevelyan x Atheva Lavellan | Atheva returns to Skyhold | 958 words | For @slugette
She had honestly forgotten how cold the wind could be in the Frostbacks.
“That’s why they’re called the Frostbacks, teldirthalelan,” she muttered beneath one of the numerous scarves she war.
Atheva’s clan had made sure to give her as many as she could carry before she left, knowing that her new home was one of the coldest places in Thedas. One wrapped around her neck, almost melting down from the one wrapped around her mouth and nose. Another covered her ears and hair from the wind.
Why hadn’t she gotten to do this when they first escaped from Haven? Why had nobody thought to even wear scarves there? Humans were weird.
It had been a year since she had last seen Skyhold due to the sudden illness of her only parental figure. She had sent letters ahead so they would know of her unexpected delay, and she could only hope she hadn’t missed anything important.
The spires of the hold appeared as she finished her trek up yet another mountain, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The sight may spark fear in a few, but for her it held a promise of warmth and comfort.
After a few more miles of walking through snow (she was thankful for the boots a traveling merchant had sold her), she was finally on the bridge towards the gate.
The fixed gate.
When she entered the courtyard, she was welcomed with a warm breeze to her face. She breathed in the fresh air, something similar to her home in the Free Marches, and sighed. She pulled the scarves from her head, draping them over her shoulders before running her fingers through her shortened hair.
Hopefully he wouldn’t mind the somewhat drastic change.
Atheva wasn’t sure if the warmth in her cheeks was from the sudden change in temperatures, or if it was from thinking of the Inquisitor. Surely he had missed her, right?
She stared up at the main tower of the hold, knowing he would be there. He would either be judging a prisoner, discussing situations over the war table, or doing other Inquisitorial things in his chambers.
‘Perhaps it would be best if I got settled first,’ she thought to herself.
The elf walked towards the dungeon, eager to be by herself for a bit longer. Her thoughts were trailing in, wondering if he had even noticed she was gone. Did he ask for her letters? Did he miss her like she had missed him?
Too many thoughts, all focused on the same person with a mish-mash of dread, longing, adoration. Too many feelings, far too little subjects.
Once she had her things stashed away in her hidey-hole, Atheva took another deep breath of the hold’s air. She would have to face him at some point to let him know his missing rogue had returned.
Her steps echoed as she walked back up the stairs towards the green courtyard.
Last time she had been at Skyhold, the main area had been in disarray. Sure, people could find some rooms to claim, but there weren’t nearly enough for everyone in the Inquisition. Sera had been stuck in a tent next to the dungeon, Vivienne was staying gods knew where, and Blackwall was probably just sleeping on the ground.
Now they were nowhere to be found. Atheva heard Sera’s laugh coming from the pub, however, and figured that’s where the other elf had taken shelter. There was a barn far down on the other end of the hold, and she felt that Blackwall would fit in there. As she walked to the main hall, she spotted some luxury items on the balcony. There was Vivienne.
The groups inside the hall had grown in number and gossip. Too many nobles for Atheva’s liking, but she knew she would never have a say in the Inquisition’s following.
Overall, the hall had cleaned up nicely. No more uneasiness about when the walls were going to collapse, and the eerie spike throne had been replaced with a throne depicting the burning of Andraste.
Why.
Atheva closed her mouth and eyes, shook her head, and continued with her mission to report her return. Not wanting to disrupt a war table meeting, if there was one, she went to the Inquisitor’s chambers.
She knocked on the door three times before entering. Each step up the stairs was nerve-wracking. “Yvad?” She said as she peeked over the stair railing.
He raised his head and his quill paused on its parchment. His violet eyes widened and he pushed his chair back.
“Atheva!”
His lips curled into a smile and his tone was one of pure joy. He met her halfway across the room and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.
Atheva returned the gesture, closing her eyes tight as she took in the feeling of him. “I’m so sorry for being gone for so long,” she whispered, “I just had to look after Tryla like she did for me.”
“It’s alright! Don’t apologize, Atheva,” Yvad said, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “You cut your hair! It looks...” He paused before continuing, “I have so many things to tell you! We’ve done so many things and you need to be all caught up.” His cheeks were a light pink, and she noticed that his excitement had been covered with a serious air.
She nodded, walking towards his desk. There, in the far corner, was a piece of paper with her terrible handwriting. He’d kept her letter.
As he sat down to brief her on everything, she saw his smile and gaze soften.
“Before we begin, I just want to say welcome back,” he said.
“Hey, Metal Girl,” Sombra said while giving her teammate a swift smack on the back. “You did good today, no matter what the dark and brooding squad say.”
Atheva blinked in surprise, unable to say anything. She had really fucked up with their mission, barely making it out with her head. Well, she probably would have kept her head because of the whole metal thing, but she wasn’t sure how else to describe it.
“Uh, thanks... Sombra...”
Honestly, she still couldn’t believe that she was working with such a huge name. Even if hacking wasn’t something she was on top of, the American knew about her colleague from the news.
“No prob. If you screw up again next time, just take out your earpiece. Makes it easier to ignore them,” the hacker said, the smirk on her face evident in her voice.
Atheva paused, staring at the torn skin on her knuckles before looking back up at Sombra.
“I’ve been told not to because of some of your ‘incidents,’” she said with a small smile. “So I probably will eventually.”
“Oh?” This piqued Sombra’s curiosity. “You get sidetracked too, then?”
“Yeah, sometimes I just get a little distracted by a cat,” she replied, her smile growing as she turned away. She clenched her fist, watching the metal under her skin simulate bone.
Western AU | Atheva Lavellan x Cullen | Dragon Age FanFic | 880 words | AO3
“This here is a robbery, now get your damn hands in the air!”
Everyone turned, surprised to hear a high-pitched voice screaming out demands.
Their confusion turned to fear when they saw the small redhead’s hands wrapped around the grip of two pistols. She cocked the guns, and immediately hands went up.
“That’s more like it! Now get on the ground,” she said with a snarl as a large man entered the bank behind her. Two other men followed behind, but much shorter in stature.
Everyone in the bank lowered themselves to the ground, hoping to save themselves from the woman’s anger. They surely had heard of her-- it wasn’t too often that a short redhead woman had the guts to rob any bank she came across in the West.
“Bull, watch these fools. You two with me!” She said over her shoulder.
The largest man nodded, producing a shotgun from behind his back. The other two men, their faces covered with black bandanas, nodded and followed her up to the counter. The teller’s forehead was already covered in sweat thanks to the heat of the noon sun.
“Gimme all you got in that vault of yours,” she said. The shape of her lips as she talked was evident behind her own dark green bandana mask.
“I-I can’t leave the counter,” the teller stammered back, his hands shaking.
“You’re really going to keep trying to follow the rules while being held up?” One of the men asked, his head tilting to the side and eyes narrowing.
The teller swallowed nervously and shook his head. “Guess not,” he whispered.
The small woman jumped over the counter once he had stepped away, and pointed her gun to the back of his head. “Let’s get a move-on, buddy.”
The teller’s sweat was dripping down his neck. It was awfully hot, but it didn’t mean anything to the gang occupying the bank.
The leader noticed his hands shaking as he unlocked the vault and audibly sighed. “No one’s gonna get hurt unless you try somethin’ funny,” she warned.
“I-I’m not going to try anything, but… we don’t have that money,” the teller replied as the vault opened.
There had to only be twenty dollars inside.
“That’s it?!” She screeched before slamming her gun as hard as she could against the back of his head. “Shit.”
She reached her hand into the vault, leaning over the teller’s crumpled body. Grabbing the small stacks of bills was easy enough, and they fell into her bag with an unsatisfyingly soft thud.
“We’ve got a problem out here, boss!” Bull called from across the bank. He had turned his attention from the people on the ground to the door.
She could faintly hear the sound of someone calling themselves the sheriff.
“Shit!” She repeated as she jumped over the counter. Her red braid bounced against her back as she approached the door next to Bull.
“Sounds like he’s all alone, but could still be a problem,” the large man said, looking down at his boss.
“Give me a second here,” she muttered, pulling her mask down to expose her now-red face to the people in the bank.
Gasps could be heard across the floor as hostages realized who exactly they were dealing with.
“Th-That’s the Red Devil!” They whispered before going into silent prayer.
Atheva smirked to herself, glad her notoriety was gaining across the plains. But she still had to come up with a plan….
“You!” She said, pointing to a young woman laying on the floor. “Follow me to the back!”
“M-Ma’am please I have a family…” The woman gasped, slowly rising to her feet.
“Don’t be stupid, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Atheva said as she walked past her. “We’re just gonna play a game of dress-up.”
The woman nodded and rushed after her, her long skirt brushing against the wooden floor.
Minutes passed before Bull called out, “Boss? The sheriff’s gettin’ antsy….”
“Gimme one damn second!” Atheva shouted back before emerging in the woman’s skirt and blouse. Her boots still hit the floor with each uncouth stomp.
“Wowee,” one of the masked men said sarcastically. “You gonna put a show on for us?”
“Just you watch,” she said with a smirk. She reached under her newly-acquired bonnet, her braid coming to rest at the top of her head. Atheva took a deep breath before wrenching her face into an expression of fear.
“Sh-Sheriff!” She screamed as she burst out the door. “Oh, Sheriff! She’s in there!”
The sheriff, an older gentleman with black hair and scruff, seemed surprised. “Who? Who is it ma’am?!”
“Th-The Red Devil! She sent me as a warnin’.... You’re gonna need more men to beat that crazy woman!”
The sheriff’s face turned white as he heard Atheva’s nickname. “Is she gonna hurt anyone? I’ll have to gather the men for backup!”
“No, no, she said she wouldn’t hurt anyone if you left her alone,” she sniffled, fake tears pricking her eyes. “Please, sheriff, don’t try anything stupid!”
“I have to keep the people of this town safe, ma’am. Now you go home and lock the door,” he said, turning on his heels to run to the saloon.
Atheva smirked. Now hopefully the boys knew to make a run for it….
y’all know what’s about to go down (hopefully) | Dragon Age | Atheva Lavellan x Cullen | Prompt: Tending Wounds |
Cullen hissed in air as Atheva lowered him onto their shared bed.
“Maker...” He muttered.
“Don’t blame them for your stupidity,” the elf said with a smirk as she began to untie the knot keeping the his pants tight against his waist. “Hope you aren’t too embarrassed by this.”
He was. Holy Maker he could feel his entire face begin to burn when the pain in his thigh throbbed. “C-Can’t you just cut it?” He asked, mentally begging for death. She was the Inquisitor! He didn’t want her to see him bared to the world.
Not yet, at least.
“And ruin a perfectly good pair of pants? You must not remember the days before living in the city,” Atheva said with a grin as she began to tug his pants down his hips. “Lift your bum.”
Without thinking, he did what he was told.
His pants quickly slid down to his knees, brushing over his wound. He didn’t even have time to react to his smallclothes being exposed due to the pain.
“Hey, hey, shush! You don’t want your men to think you’re doing something else in here, do you?” She asked as she pressed a clean rag to the cut. “How did you even let a recruit get hold of a sword and cut you with it?”
“Sh-shut up...” He really should have gotten one of the regular nurses to help him. Even maybe a mage.
“Did you just tell the Inquisitor to shut up?” He could hear the laughter in her voice.
He groaned and shut his eyes tight when he noticed her hand reaching for a needle.
“No worries, I always fixed up my friend’s scrapes and bruises. This should be pretty easy,” she said as he felt the needle poke into his skin.
“Pretty easy?!”
“Focus on something else. This’ll be done soon.”
Maker, how could he have let her convince him that she could fix him up...?
