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La beauté du coeur
... au soignant tenant la main du souffrant, à la femme donnant le sein à l'orphelin, à celui qui offre son pain, aux sourires des enfants, aux étoiles qui éclairent la nuit, à la beauté des fleurs, aux rêveurs, à la lutte entre l'être et le paraître, aux caresses, à celui dont le coeur reste amour ...
Alistair stood close to her in the crowded room. “This is really weird,” he whispered, smiling down at her. His clean-shaven face and perfectly groomed hair were charming, but a bit out of place on him. The lopsided grin certainly wasn’t. Or the look of absolute adoration in his brown eyes.
“It is, isn’t it?” Helena agreed. Her rosy lips were only tinted faintly for the occasion. They were a lovely color all their own and needed no embellishment. Full and enticing, sometimes to the point of distraction for him.
“Your majesty?” The tall, incredibly thin man beside them spoke up. “I said that you may-”
“I heard,” Alistair said louder, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Helena. She was divine in her white and gold dress. A thin gold circlet lay over the crown of her hair. “I suppose we should…” he trailed off slowly.
She pursed her lips as she smiled, trying not to laugh at him. Nodding quickly, Helena lifted her hand to his cheek. He bent his head and she met him halfway. She pressed her lips to his and after only a mere moment, he pulled away with a nervous chuckle. Letting out a soft huff of laughter, she rocked back onto her feet. Alistair glanced at the crowd that gathered, blushing at the scattered applause.
Then, from the front row, they heard a distinctly Antivan voice. “Pathetic! Kiss la tua regina like you mean it! Like she deserves! Shall I show you how?” Zevran even stood, feinting a few steps toward the dais with a determined look.
Helena certainly was hoping for something more, but she knew how nervous Alistair was to kiss her in front of so many people. He’d been fretting about it for days. She would get what she wanted in private later anyway.
However, Zevran’s ribbing seemed to spur him into action. His hand cupped the back of her neck, the other sliding down to the small of her back. He caught her off guard with the feverish kiss and almost immediately she forgot about their audience. Alistair’s hand slid over the swell of her backside and down to her thigh, suggesting that he had as well.
He bent over her slightly, lifting her leg to hook over his hip which she did without question. One arm slid around his neck while the other kept the circlet on her head as he dipped her amid the whistles and cheers of the royal court and their family.
Helena was quite literally breathless when he straightened and released her leg. “How was that?” he whispered against her lips.
“Decidedly not awkward,” she whispered back.
“You’re blushing, wife.” Alistair’s grin made her heart skip a beat.
“So are you!”
“May I now present to you, King Alistair Theirin and his wife, Queen Helena!” the officiant said amid the din that had only subsided slightly before swelling back into an approving cacophony at his announcement.
Alistair looked over his shoulder. “And?” he prompted.
“Highness, the queen should not have more titles than the king.” The officiant balked, paling slightly.
“And!” Alistair prompted again.
“Queen Helena, last of house Cousland, Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens and Hero of Ferelden.” Though he was less than enthusiastic in his announcement, Alistair was satisfied nonetheless.
Looking over at her, he took her hand and squeezed. “I love you, Hel.”
Her smile back at him did more things to him than just make his heart skip a beat. No matter what had happened in the past, or what would happen in the future, this woman was his everything. If he only remembered one thing about today, it would be the look in her eyes when she answered; “I love you too."
🌜Blue Moon🌛
(For my beloved @jacklyn-flynn )
Dorian lay asleep between the silken sheets. His flawless dark skin, fresh and young, healthy and supple, shimmered in the glare of the full moon shining through the stained glass windows of Skyhold. He groaned, tossing and turning.
Amatus beside him awoke and brushed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at his lover.
Pavus was clearly visible in the magical light of the moon. How beautiful Dorian was! He was the epitome of aesthetics and perfection.
The inquisitor saw something else and smiled mischievously. Apparently Dorian was dreaming something erotic. Dorian's body began to shine, sweat came to his forehead, his breathing became irregular and something moved between his thighs and under the silky sheet that only very slightly covered him.
Amatus couldn't help himself and very gently pulled the sheet aside. Dorian now lay before him in all his glory. Illuminated by the shimmering bluish moonlight, Dorian's body looked even more perfect.
Suddenly Dorian's eyes snapped open. And he stared into nothingness. He breathed heavily. Then he raised his right hand and ran it over his perfectly formed chest. His nipples were little hard pearls, Dorian's fingertips gliding gently over them. Then his hand went lower and then grasped his jewels courageously. Pavus' long and elegant fingers closed around his semi stiff member.
The inquisitor followed the spectacle with open mouth and wondering eyes.
Suddenly Dorian turned his gaze to his lover and moaned lasciviously.
Then everything happened very quickly, it almost seemed to the inquisitor as if magic was involved.
Pavus was suddenly lying on top of him breathing heavily and showering him with wild kisses. Dorian's tongue danced wildly in his mouth, his lips sucked, teeth bit, first gently then harder.
Amatus felt how hard Dorian's member had become and he himself could clearly feel his own rising arousal.
"Oh Dori, my heart, my darling. So wild, so tempestuous?" Gasped the inquisitor questioningly.
But Dorian closed his eyes and remained oblivious to the answer. He continued to rub himself lustily against his lover, moaning deeply and loudly.
Amatus gently scratched Dorian's back. It was almost as if he felt some kind of tension between his fingertips and the sweaty skin. A tension like the one in the air during a thunderstorm. And indeed, suddenly it smelled like rain falling on heated rocks.
Pavus began to speak in the language of his ancestors. He opened his eyes, looked deep into the pupils of his amatus and then nothing held them both back.
That night, cries and howls of desire and ecstasy echoed through the thick stone walls of Skyhold. The Maker himself would have blushed deeply to see these two bodies in wild lovemaking. It was animalistic and the word satisfaction was redefined tonight.
Dorian awoke. The morning sun was already laughing kindly through the large stained glass windows. He felt slightly sore muscles all over his body. There was a gentle rumbling in his head, his temples were throbbing. And he remembered a crazy dream.
Then the mage turned to the warm, sleeping body beside him and was some sort of shocked.
The inquisitor lay naked in the rumpled sheets. He was breathing calmly and seemed to be sleeping deeply. But his body was littered with marks - bites, scratches, hickeys wherever the eye could see.
Then this night full of desire, lust and orgasms had not been a crazy dream. The green sparks that flew from the inquisitor's left hand with each climax were not just imagination. Everything had happened for real.
Dorian swallowed hard and stared into his lover's sleeping face.
Suddenly amatus opened his eyes, blinked a few times, grinned and then bit his lower lip lasciviously.
"Hey sexy! Maker's breath, you are so beautiful! I adore you!" Whispered the inquisitor, stroking Dorian's cheek tenderly.
"You seem to be doing quite well, Amatus, don't you? You're okay?" The mage was still staring into the Herald's eyes.
"I've never been better, by Andraste, Dori, I've never felt so sexy and wanted. What happened last night opened up a whole new world for me, my sweet little howling werewolf."
And with those words, the inquisitor pulled his beloved to him and let him feel HOW good he felt this morning....
Dorian Pavus had known his moonstruck since childhood. He was kind of transformed, he was in a trance, but always conscious.
He was not aware of what it would be like to have a lover around on nights like this, but apparently amatus was absolutely taken with the lunar lovemaking....
(Was long written for your gorgeous headcanon-du-jour series, but never found the courage to post it...)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Finished finished polishing my fic based on @jacklyn-flynn Headcannon du Jour about Fenris’ vocal range. (Also partially inspired by a Patreon reward by @ashalle-art)
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Fenris/Female Hawke
Summary: Cassia Hawke is very surprised by how Fenris has decided to pass the time while she was at the Viscount's Keep.
Tags are NSFW and below cut
Varric and Isabela would often make slap bets. He later brought this over to his friends in the Inquisition, though he came to regret it after he lost one against Bull.
Varric is complicit in 80% of Sera's shenanigans.
