Thank you for sending this prompt - sorry it took so long! It took me ages to think of what to do for this one.
For context, Maighread has ADHD and massive anxiety, as well as a lot of the abandonment issues you’d expect from a mage Trevelyan, and that RSD is a real kicker when you’re also under pressure to save the world - but it’s fluff, I swear!
--
Something in the air of the room has changed. Years ofvigilance, of nightmares and military training, has left Cullen with a singularability to wake at the slightest environmental shift, his senses fine-tuned toany intrusion. It’s a skill that played havoc with his rest while the Inquisitionresided in Haven, overspilling the village so that his accommodation wasnothing more than a tent with a cot and very thin walls – every time someonewalked past, he woke, until utter exhaustion took over from the headaches andleft him to sleep like the dead. these days, within the thick walls of his roomin Skyhold, disturbances are rare; the soldiers know better than to traipse throughhis office once the candlelight has guttered, and it’s isolated enough from thekeep and the tavern that carousing nobles never disturb him.
Whatever it is now, his instincts tell him it must bebenign, and the chill pouring from the hole in his roof is too present for itto be the deceptive prelude to a nightmare. A rustle of cloth to his right betraysthe presence of another person, and with sharpening awareness he perceives lightbreath, the sharp but quiet inhale of someone baring themselves to the cold. Hisown breath stills as his eyes adjust to the darkness and finds a familiaroutline bathed both in moonlight and the ever-present green glow in her hand.
Maighread’s presence in his room isn’t unwelcome, but is definitelyunexpected, and not only because Leliana’s last report had her still at thebase of the Frostbacks with two days of travelling left. It’s not unusual forher to push on through the night to save an extra night in a tent, but he neverfinds out until the morning. She goes to her own room, driven there instead ofto him by an anxiety that she’ll disturb him, that she won’t be welcome or she’llbe mistaken for a nightmare and driven away, to the point where the one time heaccidentally drifted off in her quarters waiting for her to come home, she tookherself elsewhere, and only admitted after careful prodding that she slept in the stables. The caution comes as much froma desire not to push him past comfort as much as from the pervasive,all-consuming fear of being rejected, but it frustrates him all the same, andfrustrates him more that her instinctual reaction when he brings up the subjectis to further shrink into herself, to turn away so she won’t bother anyone,even though she’s explained to him whyand he knows she’s trying to do better. That she’s here now only proves it, andhe doesn’t want to spook her.
But she’s always too observant.
“I woke you up,” she says. Frozen, waiting to take his lead.“I can go, if you want.”
Instead, he reaches for her. No comment about his surprise,no asking why she made the decision to climb up to his loft instead of walk theextra distance to her own chambers, only the reward of feeling her relax assoon as his touch brushes against her arm, the way she all but floats into hisarms, wriggles down into his embrace, calms herself against the expectationsthat have taught her to always fear the worst. In the morning, they can talk.
Her skin is cold with the storm she battled with on the wayup the mountain, and he grits his teeth to stop himself shivering as he rubsher back to coax warmth back into her body.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he murmurs, kisses the top of herhead. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I love you – you know that, right?”
It’s a night of firsts, then. His heart flutters in hischest like a fledgling bird. The words have never passed her lips before,though she’s let him know in other ways how she feels, and it’s all he can doto hold her closer, quell the worry for what finally brought the admission.That’s another question for the morning. For now, there’s only their sharedspace, her softness in his arms, the sigh of ease as she feels her confessionaccepted. And on his lips, the reply that comes so naturally:
To find the Cistern quiet at any time of day was strange.Yet, when Brynjolf returned to the Thieves Guild headquarters that evening, hefound it unusually devoid of its members. Even the Flaggon had emptied out,Vekel mumbling something about most of the crew being busy with jobs in thehold and other cities. Sure, the Guild’s luck with work had certainly changedas of late, but to find most of his friends missing unsettled him. That, and hehad a hankering for company after being away from Riften himself.
As he peered across the Cistern, he noted Viper and Cynricasleep in their cots. Niruin was awake, at least, but seemed focused on hisarchery training. Brynjolf continued to stand in the archway to the graveyardexit as he scanned the room, trying to convince himself he wasn’t looking for aparticular person. But then, across the large pool of water, he caught thebright shine of her icy blonde hair and smiled.
Fiona.
He hadn’t seen much of her in the last few weeks—between histravels to Markarth on a mission for the Guild, and her own jobs in and outsidethe city, their paths had not crossed much. If Brynjolf was honest, he wouldsay he had missed the lass. When she had first been recruited to the Guild, hehad been her constant supervisor as she worked odd jobs to build up trustwithin the group. They became friends—iffriends flirted, and teased each other with lingering touches and prolongedeye-contact. By the Nine, she had kissedhim, and he would be a fool to say he didn’t want her to do it again, thathe wanted more.
But now Fiona was working jobs for Mercer and the Guild onher own—she didn’t need Brynjolf as her shadow, and he saw her less frequently.It went against his very nature to contemplate the emotions she stirred up inhis heart, but now he was left wondering if the distance had changed theirdynamic. Did Fiona still feel—if she felt anything for him—the same way?Brynjolf shook his head as he walked along the cobblestone, banishing away hisfoolish thoughts. He was not a romantic, not a man that got hung up on whetheror not a woman liked him.
He bypassed the Guildmaster’s desk, noting the grimaceMercer wore as he stared at the various letters and maps before him—the man wasin no mood to talk. Instead, Brynjolf advanced to his original target, smirkingto himself as he observed Fiona working at the alchemy table. He strode upbehind her, studying the spread of ingredients she had on the table.
“What do you have here?” he asked, reaching around her waistto poke at the pile of mushrooms with his finger.
“Careful,” Fiona spoke, brushing his hand away. “Those arepoisonous.”
Hesitantly, Brynjolf rested his hands on the edge of the alchemytable, framing her body. He peered over her shoulder again, curious to what shewas making. He had never fully mastered the art of alchemy, and could barelyremember which flowers healed and which numbed the tongue. Fiona continued herwork, deft fingers carefully rotating the pestle as she added small branches ofcanis root to the granite bowl.
“What do you need poison for?”
Fiona turned her head ever so slightly to peer at him with asmall smirk. At least she didn’t seem bothered by his close proximity.
“That noble in Solitude that Vex and the others had troublewith,” she explained, focusing back to her work. Brynjolf took the opportunityto inspect the exposed skin of her neck that he so rarely got to see when shewore her hood. Fiona continued, “Mercer wants me to have a go at it. Seems thenoble has some valuable information hiding away.”
“Hmm,” Brynjolf answered, half distracted by the smell ofmountain flowers lingering in her hair. “So you plan on paralyzing the sod?”
“Yes.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
Fiona glanced at him over her shoulder again with a coysmile. “I’m going to tempt him.”
“A honeypot?” Brynjolf questioned her, eyebrows perked.“That tactic is…surely beneath you, don’t you think lass?” He didn’t mean tooffend, but the thought of Fiona using her charm and wit—her body—to seduce a man did not settle wellwith him. For a multitude of reasons.
“I’m no harlot,” she responded.
There was a bite to her words thatmade Brynjolf falter and pull away. “Perhaps you could enlighten me with thisplan of yours, then.”
Fiona regarded him, silentlyeyeing his expression as she bottled the ground mixture. He knew that look—the hintof mischief shining in her eyes before she said something to taunt him. Itexcited and unnerved him all the same.
“It’s simple, really,” shestarted, turning to face him fully. “To appeal to a man’s baser instinct.”
She closed the distance betweenthem once more, tilting her head to elongate and flash more of the silky paleskin of her neckline—she knew.
Brynjolf subtly cleared the suddenlump in his throat. “It will take a lot more than a few sultry glances to—”
Fiona’s hand rested on his arm, grippingaround his bicep in an affectionate squeeze. “I’ll make sure to compliment hisframe,” she paused, her other hand reaching towards his face where her fingers wispedacross his jawline and through his hair. “Tell him how handsome he looks.”
Brynjolf’s chest tightened as hegot lost in the moment. Her playful demeanor told him she was putting on anact, and yet, there was something inthe way she spoke the words to him that made him want to believe she was genuine.Or at least genuinely flirting.
She ensured that her body was asclose to his as possible without touching, chin tilted up so she could peer upat his eyes. She slowly blinked, her long lashes a tantalizing sight. Sheleaned in closer still, lips hovering over the shell of his ear.
“I’ll whisper something bawdy torile him up…” she trailed. “About how he must want to pin me against the tableand ravage me until I’m screaming…perhaps.”
Brynjolf tensed, and he closed hiseyes tightly to focus his thoughts. It took all of his nerve not to grab her bythe waist and carry her off to one of the back rooms to have his way with her. Orto simply push her back against the alchemy table and plant his lips along herneck as he desperately craved.
“Of course,” the tone of her voicechanged. “I’ll suggest we share a bottle of wine first.”
Just like that, Fiona had pulledaway. Brynjolf felt like his gut was on fire—his skin was crawling withgooseflesh, and he knew that beneath his hair, his ears were bright red.
“It’s an easy tactic. But it worksoh so well,” Fiona boasted with a wickedgrin. “I’m an exceptional flirt.”
Aye—and it drove him mad. He had fallen for her ruse, and while hewould’ve normally been irritated at the thought, with Fiona, he wasn’t at allsurprised. Of course she had caught him off guard, and performed it so easily. Notthat he would admit any of this to her right then.
“Just hope you are the nobleman’s’type,” Brynjolf finally spoke, softly chuckling to himself when he noted thesmall twitch of doubt that flashed across her features. “Though, any man wouldbe a fool to deny you.”
If Fiona thought his wordsserious, she hid her reaction well, her small smile all he saw before she spunaround to grab the bottle of paralyzing potion from the table. He studied herform, feeling the slight frustration from before. As much as he liked thegames, and the flirting, he was starting to tire from walking that fineunmarked line in the sand. Sure, Brynjolf was the type of man who could easilyfind any woman to warm his bed and keep him company, but he had grown bored ofthat life. What he wanted was Fiona. And soon, she would be gone again.
“Brynjolf,” her voice snapped himout of his frustrated confusion. He ran a hand across his face before facingher. She was grinning, eyes bright she looked at him. “Why don’t you come toSolitude with me?”
“What for?”
“You just said,” Fiona remarked. “Justin case I’m not that nobleman’s type.”
A pause, and then the two werelaughing in the shared delight of the thought of Brynjolf seducing a target thatnobody else in the Guild had been successful in stealing from. When their mirthfaded, he could tell there was something else she wanted to say, and drewcloser to her once more.
“What else is it, Fiona?” heprompted.
“I—I miss having you by my side,”she explained in a rushed, quiet voice. A flash pink to her cheeks told him shewas being honest.
Brynjolf tried his best to hidethe sudden burst of pride he felt, knowing that there was a hint of truth toher earlier charade. As much as he admired her charisma and thieving skills, heloved seeing this secret, vulnerable and demure side of Fiona—something shesaved only for him.
I’m sorry you have to deal with these people. You seem like such a nice person and you don’t deserve it.
I’m pretty sure it’s just a bunch of sockpuppet accounts from one very bored fifteen year old. I hope they find something else to do with their time. In any case, I’m going to go back to working on redlines in a minute -- I just needed a break.
I tend to have people mention that they wish there was more overlap between DA and Galavant. And though yes I think there should be more DA fans who watch Galavant there is definitely overlap. It’s just mostly on the Galavant side. Like they don’t go on Tumblr anymore but one of the people who encouraged me to make Galavant memes was a huge Dragon age fan. Two of my best friends on this site are huge dragon age nerds and both are fans of Galavant. Fuck one of them helps run the blog now.My IRL BFF he adores Galavant and is an eggmancer. And one of the first people following this blog and someone I genuinely like is a Dragon Age fan. I recently got a new mutual because of this blog and we both discovered we adore Dragon Age. Hopefully we’ll become as close as me and athena one day. Like I’m sure not every Galavant fan likes Dragon Age but there still seems to be a huge overlap. Like I think the problem is Dragon Age is a huge and very active fandom. And sure there was more people who watched Galavant then I thought. Like this blog is bigger than my main. Galavant-375 Me-362. Galavant isn’t nearly as active or as loud ad the Dragon Age Fandom. Which is part of the reason I adore it. But it makes it hard to see from the outside if this person who likes Dragon Age is also into Galavant. And the biggest blogs from my experience tend to make gifsets and photosets which is amazing but won’t tell you if they like Dragon Age. PS. If you run any galavant blogs tell me and I will follow you. Any way there is also the thing where Galavant fans are more united than Dragon Age fans. Like Dragon Age fans tend to be divided by romances and Galavant fans seem to just be grateful and excited for finding another Galavant fan. So not only when you look through DA blogs for Galavant fans, you only get a sliver of the fanbase. The only reason I know there is an overlap between the two is not because I’m clever or anything. It’s just luck. I run a Galavant blog and write shitty DA fanfics. I’m active in both fanbases. And I noticed a pattern. If you like Dragon Age, Galavant is on Netflix. It’s not perfect but it is fun and silly. It feels like the dumber moments in Dragon Age. “I like big boats I cannot lie.” if I didn’t play dragon age and someone told me it came from Galavant. I would go “Ah I must of forgotten. Second season?” And if you like Galavant, try Dragon Age. They have some great characters in it and even if the writing isn’t always perfect, you stick around because of the characters. And if your a fan of both and wish there was more DA/galavant fans. I don’t know maybe I can make a list of ones I know of. And if you want on tell me. Comment, send a message or ask about what blogs they might be interested in. Just running this blog and other blogs it feels like. Most Galavant fans are Dragon Age fans, but most Dragon Age fans never heard of Galavant.
You put me in a difficult situation. I have both, but I have certain games I like to play on one or the other. My only game I play faithfully on PlayStation is the Witcher Wild Hunt. Besides that I have Battlefield one and COD 3 and Infinite Warfare. Almost forgot Dragon's Dogma.
Now Xbox is where I have my mains, Dragon age (origins, awakenings,II, and Inquisition) and Elderscrolls Morrowind, Oblivion, and Skyrim. I also have all my other RPGs on there (kingdoms or amalur, Table, ESO, Dishonored 1-2)
So I guess Xbox? But honestly I like the PS3 (not PS4) controller better. Actually The GameCube had the best controller tbh but that's not the question.
40. Do you have any obsessions right now?
Yes. The Arcana. I can't remember how I was lured in, but it may have been by a certain slippery doctor and his wriggling eyebrows.
I hope I answered the right questions from the right list because I posted more than one ask list. Tell me if I'm wrong.
Can’t find your answer the main pearl of the show. Sorry haven’t watched Steven universe forget there were multiple ones.
I meant which Pearl as in there are multiple fictional characters called Pearl and you needed to be more specific, but my question was answered anyway so alright
Not My Type | Alright | Cute | Adorable | Pretty | Gorgeous | LORD MERCY
Oh man, only two? I have a lot of favorite fictional characters!
Hiccup Haddock, Astrid Hofferson, Viggo Grimborn Harry Potter, Hermoine Granger, Daisy Johnson, Melinda May, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Loki, Zuko, Katara, gonna have to put etc because there are so many more...
