for @daydreamingdragonage, featuring Hela Lavellan for OC Kiss Week.
“Ma’falon! Higher this time,” he calls out to her, pulling back the string of the bow. “Min’elvyr!” She laughs as she raises her staff, pulls the magic into her fist. Channeling it through the wood, down the very cracks of it, focusing it through the crystal. Three chunks of ice spit high up into the sky, each taking a different trajectory.
“How’s that for easy!” She shouts, cupping a hand around her mouth, voice travelling over the field to him. A grin on his face as he looses one, another, and another. All three find their mark, the center of the ice, shattering them into a thousand sparkling pieces.
“Min’elvyr,” Mahanon says again, turning back to face her, the bow falling to his side. Self-assured in his smile, confident in his walk back up to the battlements, and to her.
“You’re cheating,” she says the moment his face appears. He laughs, takes the last two steps in one, and leans against the battlements, same as her. Staff rests beside bow, a quiver of arrows at their feet.
“And how exactly am I cheating?” Hela makes a muted, mumbling noise, shrugs her shoulders. His arms crossed, he tips himself over, the side of his head resting on the top of hers. “You’re just sour because I won our bet,” he says. Hands flying upwards, shooing him away from her, she moves to the other side of the battlements with a grin.
“I’ll get you back,” she says. His grin turns into a grimace.
“It better not involve Sera. Dealing with one of you is bad enough, I’m afraid what the two of you together might come up with,” he says.
“Something awful, I’m sure,” with the same sort of self-assurance he held earlier. He pushes himself away from the wall, to her side, looks over into Skyhold’s courtyard. His eyebrows rise when he spots the figure making their way towards them.
“Speaking of Sera,” he says, casting a glance towards Hela. She waves down at Sera, pleased pink in her cheeks, a delighted smile on her lips. Mahanon looks between the both of them, straightens his stance, and then wraps an arm around Hela’s waist. He tips her back, folds with her, both of their faces disappearing below the battlements, where Sera can’t see them.
Hela holds onto his shoulders for dear life as he asks her, “Do you think she’ll fall for it?” Hela raises her eyebrows.
“With the way you look at Dorian? Not a chance.”
