I want to write something silly and fun. So I think it's time for a ✨❄️Hallmark/Holiday Movie AU❄️✨ one shot.
The question is who do I write it about, and what setting should I choose? I'm torn, so I'm gonna put it up for a vote. Round 1 is the characters, then once that is decided, we'll do some extra polls for the details. ^_^
Round 1:
Which Pairing Should I Use?
Matteo Lucia Alessandro De Riva/Neve Gallus
Nadarevas Thorne/Lucanis Dellamorte
Mary Brithari Surana/Taash
Gelen Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
How dare you leave out (insert pairing here)!?
Voting ended onNov 18, 2025
Gonna put my OC tags in this post so y'all can click on them if you want to know more about them. ^_~
Featuring Alistair Theirin and Vaelyn Surana, post DATV.
The hazy air was thick with the sounds and scents of battle. Screams of the injured and the darkspawn, yells of rage and triumph, as the battered forces that had been defending Skyhold pressed the enemy hard. Something had shifted within the last couple of hours, bringing both himself and Velanna to agreement that there would be no better time to press their luck. Mariel's grenades had burned away the blight that had been climbing the walls and choking the valley, clearing the way for the small company of Grey Wardens and the King's Royal Guard to lead the charge out of the stronghold they'd been defending for months now.
His legs were tired, and his shield arm ached, but he pressed on. A mutated hurlock charged his way, and instinct kicked in, his sword flashed, there was the sound of metal biting into flesh, and then the beast's death bellow made the air shake before it crashed down onto the muddy ground. Alistair glanced around him and grit his teeth, as he took stock of their numbers. They were making progress, and the darkspawn were less thick, but they were still coming, and he didn't know how much longer they could keep this up. They'd all been on half rations for weeks now, so their exhaustion never really went away, which meant they were all fighting at a disadvantage. If he hadn't been a Warden himself, or had stopped training over the years, he surely would have been dead by now.
The clarion call of a horn cut through the air, one long note followed by two slight shorter ones. He stopped in his tracks, because of all the signals he'd expected to hear, that was not one of them.
"SERAH! LOOK!" Cried out one of his soldiers, as they pulled their axe free from a corpse and pointed to the horizon.
Alistair double checked his surroundings and then raised his visor to try to see through the smoky haze of the smouldering battlefield. It took him just a moment to locate the reinforcements that had arrived. She was there at the front of her group, astride a big horse that was galloping in his general direction. Her mount was flanked by a small pack of war-clad Mabari, and followed by a small detachment of the Silver Order on their own mounts. Arrows sang as they were loosed from the bows of the mounted archers, as they galloped after their commander. They didn't slow down, even as they drew close to the nearby darkspawns' open flank. There was a clash and a clatter, as their battle cries of "FOR FERELDEN! FOR FREEDOM!" drowned out the screams of enraged darkspawn they'd come to challenge.
His senses warned him as a pack of ghouls ran his direction, returning his attention to more immediate dangers. Alistair took a deep breath and smiled, his body filled with renewed vigor as he readied his shield for this next stage of the fight. The Hero of Ferelden was here, fighting with him, in the same place, which meant one thing. The tide had turned, at last.
"FOR FERELDEN! FOR FREEDOM!" He roared, his troops and allies quickly picking up the call, as they all renewed their efforts to push the enemy off this mountain and out of the valley.
He lost sight of her soon after that, but he could tell she was still close enough, and that gave him enough hope to continue on even as his body began to cry for respite. Occasionally he caught sight of a Mabari, their bright blue and white kaddas standing out in the sea of browns, reds, blacks and greys that made up this battlefield. They'd never been able to push the enemy this far back before, which meant he was on unfamiliar ground, but that also meant that they were winning.
"OGRE!" Someone cried out in warning from somewhere up ahead. Immediately Alistair grit his teeth and headed in that direction, while he tried to ignore his anxiety about facing one of those monsters while he was this tired.
His speed picked up when he heard the creature roar, and the ground shook as it charged into sight. It bellowed with rage again, this time its cries were edged with pain and frustration. The sounds of barking and growling joined the din, and then everything grew quiet for him as he caught sight of her on the ogre. She was clinging to the hilts of her swords that were both buried into its meaty back, as it gave one last shake in a vain attempt to shake her off. It made a gurgling sound and started to stumble, which he recognized as a sure sign that she'd managed to rupture at least one of its lungs. A Mabari streaked past him at a full snarling run, the massive hound launching at the Ogre's neck and burying its teeth deep. For just a moment he was back in a different battle, what felt like a lifetime ago, watching her and a Mabari do the same thing, but he quickly snapped out of it, because just like back then, he heard a sound that filled him with urgency. It was an all too familiar and terrifying acidic sizzling sound… Alistair stopped in his tracks and began yelling for his troops and their allies to get clear, as he desperately cast his eyes around for some sort of cover. But there wasn't any, so he raised his shield and braced himself for what he knew was coming next.
It was a truly awful sound, squishy and fleshy, accompanied by an explosive boom that made more than one person flinch even before the worst of it was unleashed. Chunks of flesh, drops of blood, and worse, rained down in the aftermath of the explosion, littering the ground and covering anyone nearby in viscera. He lifted his shield just enough to take a peek at her as the last of the gory rain finished falling. She shimmered into existence on the ground not too far from the twisted and mostly shattered remains of the ogre, with her swords in hand, and the hound ready and waiting at her side. And it was only because he was watching her that he caught the change in her demeanor as she finally noticed how close he was. She grew unnaturally still, for just a few heartbeats, and even though her face was hidden by her winged helm, he was certain that her eyes were bright and there was a ghost of a smile on her face. But it didn't last, and she sprang back into action, and so did he.
Time slipped by, as the battle ebbed and flowed like a receding tide. Everyone was tired but still they fought on, pressing their advantage as they drove the darkspawn back into the hole they'd literally crawled out of. They'd managed to close off the two other underground tunnels the darkspawn had launched their initial attacks from all those months ago, but this last one had been too heavily defended to get to, at least until now. As soon as the last darkspawn fell, he whistled a high and clear note, and his troops jumped into action. The last of the precious grenades were thrown down the rupture in the side of the mountain, and then the mages all worked together to seal the thing with their magic. The ground rumbled and shook, but it cooperated, and with a sudden crash the seam in the rock pressed closed, sealing anything that had survived the grenades back into the depths below. Silence reigned as they all watched the hole, as if worried it might suddenly spring back open in some cruel twist of fate, but it held. Alistair raised his visor and took in a deep shuddering breath before finally raising his eyes to the sky.
He found himself blinking back tears as he realized that the sky wasn't red, and the moon was where it should be, and the sun was even shining weakly through the clouds and haze. Laughter born of relief and grief bubbled free from his chest, as his mind finally allowed himself to acknowledge that not only had the tide turned in this war, but they'd weathered the worst of it, and he was still alive. The soldiers and Wardens raised a cheer, and suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of relief and joy that they all felt in response to their victory.
"Your Highness." A familiar voice said, bringing his attention back to the ground, and her.
"Warden-Commander." He replied, unable to hide his smile from his voice, as he stared at her. Even covered in dirt and grime, wearing armor, and looking as intimidating as ever, she took his breath away, still.
He sheathed his sword and then used his free hand to get his helmet off, as he stared at the woman who he hadn't seen in almost a year. He watched as she did the same, sheathing one of her swords so she could take her own helm off. Her grey eyes were bright as she stared up at him and said, "They did it. She did it."
Alistair found himself suddenly overcome, as he realized what she meant. Not only had Rook found a way to stop Elgar'nan, but his daughter had helped and survived. Vaelyn took a step closer and stared into his eyes knowingly as he just stared back at her with tears of joy and relief gathering in his.
"I missed you." She confessed quietly, those three words holding so much weight that it felt like he couldn't breathe for just a moment.
At a complete loss for words, he opted for his only other option. There was a clatter as his helmet dropped to the ground, his hand required for more important things. He reached for her, and she let him pull her closer before he bent down and captured her lips with his own. She tasted like salt and sweat and smoke, but most of all, she tasted like Vaelyn Surana, and there was no one else in the world who could compare. He completely lost himself for a moment as she kissed him back, with a passion that filled his veins with fire until he felt like he might spontaneously combust. His lungs screamed for more air, but he didn't care, because she was better than breathing and Maker he'd missed her too.
The sound of cheering, clapping, and other similar sounds, slowly pulled him back into himself. Vaelyn broke off the kiss and then smiled up at him as she said, "I think that was for us" with amusement in her eyes as his cheeks flooded with color in response, because she was right. The world had almost ended, for the third time, and they'd both survived.
"Let's give them an encore then, hmm?" He said, his words husky as his eyes glinted with humor and something hotter that made her smirk.
Alistair pulled her tight to him once more and kissed her again, this time with more passion than before, which she matched without hesitation. The crowd around them whistled and cheered, as the sun rose broke through the clouds at last, and bathed them all in its warm light, while the King kissed his best friend, and the Hero of Ferelden kissed the man she had never stopped loving.
Microstory Rules: Remember these can be completed at any time. Just tag me and will share them! And as always these are just exercises to help improve your writing. But if you are happy with how you write then keep on writing!
Microstories are an extremely brief narrative, often 100 words or fewer, that tell a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end, frequently relying on implication and strong imagery. This isn't about the size of the word count in the story, but the size of the story in the word count. They also often involve plot twists and leave a lasting impression. So for the purpose of this exercise, tell me a complete story in 300 or less words.
Thanks for the tag and hosting the game, @woundedsoul12 ! 💜
I'm a sucker for microstories and writing prompts with short word counts! Y'all get something about my fav, because I miss her. ^_^
It had been an attempt at an ambush. They'd thought that because she was traveling unaccompanied that she'd be vulnerable. One woman against a whole group of highly trained mercenaries, surely meant the odds were in their favor even though she had been fulled armed and armored. They'd killed her horse, the animal screaming in pain as it crumpled to the ground underneath her. She'd just managed to get clear of the animal without getting pinned when they'd surrounded her.
They'd laughed when she'd gotten to her feet and said, "Surrender now, and I'll let you live. Don't, and there will only be one of you spared."
What had followed was something the lone survivor could barely manage to describe without completely shutting down as he relived that event.
The air around her swirled and strength bled from their limbs. Her swords were in her hands, and anyone who made contact with them screamed as their blood turned to acid right before they exploded. Gore and viscera spread out in an unholy halo around her once the last man had fallen, revealing the whimpering form of the last man, who held his hands high in a desperate attempt to signal his surrender. She ignored him as she wiped her blades clean before sheathing them. Then she disappeared like a spectre, only to reappear at his shoulder a moment later. The smell of hot piss added to the aura of death in the air, when she held his tear stained face in her gauntleted hand and coldly told him, "Tell them that I will not forget or forgive this attempt on my life. If they try again, I will eliminate their bloodlines instead of just asking for their resignations. I will not step down or abandon my duty to Ferelden."
Tagging @feralkwe @avoskorm @chubritza @sandetigerrr @garaviel to do it, if they want. 💜
Oh hey, it's Thursday and I got tagged by @feralkwe when I just so happen to have been working on a quick drabble. I got an idea the other night that I haven't been able to stop chewing on, so I finally wrote it this morning. It's not done, but I've got the first version of it.
So here ya go, a snippet of something from when Vaelyn was helping the Inquisition incognito, along with Solas (who was also incognito). ^^;;
They'd been so busy trying to cover the retreat of the Inquisitor and her team, that they'd missed the simplest and most obvious of traps. Both of them had foreseen to protect themselves and their allies from the brunt of their spells and schemes, but in the end it was something old and forgotten that snared the two powerful mages and removed them abruptly from the fight.
Vaelyn had immediately realized something was off, and stopped in her tracks, nearly causing Solas to crash into her. He'd given her a withering look, and for just a moment she was certain he was about to blame her for their misfortune. But he'd held his tongue, and instead started studying their surroundings. Which was good, because if he'd chosen to lash out, she was fairly certain she wouldn't have been able to resist the temptation to fight fire with fire. Things between them had been tense since Adamant. They'd had one quiet but tense disagreement upon their return to Skyhold, and in the aftermath Solas had ceased to be anything other than professionally polite to her. Vaelyn found this to be exceptionally immature, as it felt like he had tried to lay the sins of the whole Grey Warden Order upon her shoulders. She was one singular Warden, and he knew she wasn't the First Warden or one who would even have sway over him. Both of them knew the other wasn't being completely honest about everything they are or were. Just like they knew they were both there to help; so they'd sidestepped certain topics while they'd become something akin to friends while they both assisted Nesithra and the Inquisition. It was for Nesithra's sake that neither the seemingly simple warden or apostate had dug too deep at each other. But since Adamant that unspoken agreement seemed to have frayed to almost non-existence, and all it would take was one pushing a little hard to make everything come apart at the seams.
"Are you going to just stand there?" Solas asked snippily, after he'd finished pacing a loose orbit around her. Coming to a stop near the center of the fairly innocent looking hallway, they'd ended up in.
Not gonna formally tag anyone, since it is thursday and I tagged a bunch of people in other things recently. But you can consider yourself tagged if you want. <3
Anyways, I am a sucker for characters who are lonely and shouldering burdens they never asked for, and that fits both Lyn and Solas (and like at least half of my favorite characters, leave me and my eldest child issues alone XP). I love weird friendships. And theirs definitely qualifies as weird.
Thank you @woundedsoul12 for the tag, as I needed a break from my current WIPs. <3
I'm not gonna tag anyone directly, because most of my friends seem to have enough on their plate lately, but if you want to do it, feel free to say I tagged you. ^_^
This week's prompt is:
You're just like an angel your skin makes me cry ~ Creep by Radiohead
I know there is a way this probably should have been used, but I decided to just go full angst with it instead. Sorry, not sorry. >_>
She'd grown used to her isolation, to the life of being a symbol and a figurehead but never actually a person. As days turned into weeks, months spun by and years passed, she carried the burdens of her responsibilities and let them shape her into what the people needed her to be. Occasionally she'd be reminded of who she had been, or of the person with the beating heart that still lay at the center of everything she'd become. But that only happened behind closed doors or in the private rooms she'd claimed for her own in the deepest parts of the fortress. There had been one exception, far from everywhere she called home, for just a matter of hours, but that had been so long ago that it often felt more like a hazy memory of a dream than something that had actually happened.
She had friends and those she considered family, and they kept her from turning into something too distant or cold. She cherished those bonds and used them as further motivation to fulfill her duties…
Duty.
That's what she'd become.
Even though it's not what she'd ever wanted to be.
When she was little, she had dreamed of chasing knowledge and curiosity like her mother had. Then she'd imagined herself fostering life and growth as she worked with the land and forests of her home alongside her father.
Later she had only ever dreamed of becoming free to return home, even though part of her knew that was surely an impossible goal. She'd thrown herself into the pursuit of knowledge as she practiced control and mastery of the abilities she'd been burdened with. Dreams became something not worth considering as each year passed by and her friends were taken from her until there was only a handful left.
When she'd been recruited into the Grey Wardens, she hadn't considered it as anything other than an opportunity to survive. Because that's all she'd become, someone determined to survive. And after the fall of Ostagar, even survival felt like something that was almost too much to ask for.
Duncan had made her swear an oath, placing the heavy mantle of an impossible duty on her already tired shoulders. She'd nearly died after just one day with that weight on her conscious. In fact she'd been ready to let go, as she'd already survived so much in her twenty-two years that it seemed only fair to finally wish for peace. But duty and power far greater than her had pulled her from that burning tower and forced her to carry on.
And carry on she had. She'd saved the world from a blight, with a band of misfits that all found themselves at the mercies of fate and powers that they wouldn't understand at the time.
Something deep inside her had clung to that sense of duty, and it helped her endure having her heart broken in more ways than one. She patched the thing with platonic love, and let it get encased by a hard shell of duty and stubborn will, because she existed because of love, not in spite of it… And then she'd made her peace with the fact that her path was one that had no room for romance or the kind of love that broke free of barriers.
For she was Vaelyn Surana, Hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine, living legend, and bane of the Chantry. She was mother to every young mage that fled to the Vigil in need of protection and purpose. She was the caretaker of the ancient things that lurked in the deepest woods and ruins of her Arling and the bannorn that surrounded it. She was the champion of the elves and mages who clamored for fair treatment, and an example of what they could be.
And she was always aware of that, of what she was supposed to be, and of all the eyes always watching her for any opportunity to take her down. The blight and the civil war may have officially ended many years ago, but for Vaelyn, there was no real peace, because her enemies and rivals were always waiting for a chance to strike her down.
It didn't have to be this hard, she knew that. She could have taken on less, and kept her roles smaller. But how could she stand idly by and ignore the suffering and injustice around her? She knew that choice was often easy for others, but it had never been for her, and even just thinking of it made her feel sick and unclean. She'd seen too many pray for the children starving on the streets but never open their purses or homes to help. She cared not for the gods or saints that listened to pleas for help and did nothing to reduce the suffering of the masses that idolized them, as others committed atrocities in their name. She had been burdened and changed by her unasked for position of power, but the least she could do was use that power to lessen the suffering of the helpless. The fact that it filled her critics with frustration was an added prize.
But as good as those little victories felt, or the satisfaction she got from turning a struggling arling into a prosperous one, she still often went to sleep at night with a pain that she could not dismiss or silence.
That armored heart of hers stubbornly ached for the thing she couldn't have. The intimacy of skin against skin as fears and hopes were shared. Cold hands held by warmer ones without being asked, as they sat in the dusky twilight. The comforting weight of strong arms draped carelessly across her middle as they rested under blankets while the birds sang their evening songs. Lips that lingered, and breath that hitched. Her heart longed for it like a flower stretched for the sun. It wasn't just a simple hunger or lust, it was something deeper that only one person had ever truly ignited in her. Sometimes her heart haunted her sleep and tempted her dreams with the hope that someday she could indulge in that bonfire of passion and connection that had once been hers. But as each new day dawned she was once again confronted with the cold hard truth of her reality and duty.
She did not live in a world where a woman like her could have what her heart wanted more than anything. A simple life of purpose, where as each day ended she was able to sit by the fire with the person she loved, with the sounds of laughter ringing through the halls of their home as their children played and grew. There would be no kissing each other good morning or goodnight. They would never be able to work with their hands under an afternoon sun in easy companionship. No sharing of quiet expressions of love and acceptance without fear of being witnessed. None of that could be real, not in this world.
Sometimes she woke with cold tears lingering on her face, but they washed away easily. And by the time she was dressed and leaving her room, they were forgotten, again and again.
She was Vaelyn Surana, and she had more than she'd ever thought possible.
It would be foolish and selfish to think she could have any more.
Romance was for ordinary people, and the young.
And she was neither of those, and neither was he.
She had her duty, and the knowledge she'd done her best, it would have to be enough.
Today's entry takes place post DAI but before Tresspasser, and I think romantic fluff is fantastic, but also so is platonic fluff. So this includes both.
“Knock-knock!” A charming antivan voice called out as its owner poked his head through the doorway.
The brunette elven woman who sat at the desk opposite the door did not even glance up from her work as she informed him flatly, “I’m busy, and I don’t have time for whatever shenanigans you’re up to.”
“But I come bearing gifts!” He countered, seemingly immune to the icy aura that radiated off of her.
Her pen stilled as she glanced up at last and locked her stormy grey eyes on his tattooed and smiling face, her eyebrows rising just enough to convey an unspoken question.
He met her stormy look with a warm smile, before stepping through the doorway with an arm behind his back. Sunlight streamed through the two glass windows on one wall that brightened the room on this otherwise dreary winter day in Denerim. It was one of the few places in the palace that did not feel damp and cold this time of the year. Rumors abounded with varying theories about what kind of wicked magic the Arlessa had used to seemingly make it immune to the season. The truth was much more mundane, it was dry and warm because the palace staff knew they could always count on the Arlessa of Amaranthine to compensate them for taking any extra effort to keep the chimney drafting properly and such. The common folk remembered her in their streets before she became famous, standing up for them and their families when it counted, and they showed that by making sure her fire was always well fed and her rooms well kept.
“Well?” She prompted, annoyed by Zevran’s lackadaisical attitude as he leisurely looked around the room.
Zevran cast a glance over his shoulder, checking to make sure no one lingered out in the hall before he leaned forward and gave her a sly smile as he carefully placed a wax sealed box on her desk. Her eyes widened as she recognized the seal, excitement making her eyes brighten for a moment before she suddenly sobered and leaned away to level a look of suspicion his way.
“What did you do?” She asked him with a hard edge that made it clear she was not interested in being bribed.
He gasped slightly and pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, as he eyed her with a slightly over the top air of wounded disappointment that only made her expression grow colder.
“I am appalled, Messare, that you would immediately assume the worst. Surely we have been bosom friends for long enough that you—”
“Zevran, I am not in the mood, nor do I have the time for this. Just get on with it.” She told him, cutting him off without remorse.
“You’re no fun today… Problems? Anything I can help with?” He replied, with his charm dialed back and something sharp in his gaze as he blatantly leaned forward to eye what she’d been working on.
“I always have problems, you know that. In this case, no, you can’t help… At least not yet. Where’s Alan?” She replied with the kind of blunt honesty she only used with those she trusted most.
Zevran made a face, “Stuck in a meeting that I’m not allowed to attend.” He sighed again, this time sounding a bit tired, before he rallied and continued with a half-smile, “So I thought I’d come visit my dear friend Vaelyn. Sister of my heart, savior of my world, and patron saint of second chances.”
It was her turn to make a face, as she eyed him and said, “See, now I really know you’re up to something, since you’re flattering me so blatantly.”
Zevran huffed and lowered himself into a nearby chair as he stared back at her looking like a kicked puppy.
“It may be flattery, but it’s still the truth. Everything I have now is thanks to you, which is why I show my gratitude any way I can. Including playing messenger when it benefits you.” He told her, as he reclined in the chair and got comfortable in a position that reminded her of a cat.
Vaelyn’s gaze darted back to the box again, before she shot a questioning look Zevran’s way.
“It’s not from you?”
“No. I was tasked with verifying it was the real deal, and then delivering it into your care. I was even paid, which was a surprise.” He answered as he cleaned his fingernails with a small blade he’d pulled from one of his many hidden sheathes upon his person.
“Oh… Then who?” She asked him, some of the hardness melting away, allowing her to look closer to her real age for a time. She had grey hairs because of the things she’d endured, not the amount of years she’d lived.
“Who do you think I’d be willing to do this for? Just open it, there is a note inside.” Zevran replied with a quiet kind of honesty that earned him a brief flash of grateful surprise from her.
Vaelyn used her letter opener to break the unadorned seal on the box, before carefully lifting the lid to discover a note penned in a familiar hand.
Apologies for this being late. I’ll spare you the details and instead just wish you a belated birthday.
- Alistair
P.S. This was Mary’s idea, so don’t give me all the credit. And don’t let her steal them all, she got her own.
Vaelyn gently placed the note to the side before carefully unfolding the deep purple wax paper and revealing thirty-five antivan chocolates in various shapes and sizes.
Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, as she stared at the decadent treats she had been gifted. Of course there were thirty-five of them because she’d turned thirty-five recently, although almost no one knew that. She’d only told a very few people about her birthday, many years ago, what felt like a lifetime away from the present. Of course he’d remembered, and of course he’d done something, because despite everything, he had always been someone who took the time to let her know she mattered to him. All of her wished she could rush from the room and find him, so she could wrap her arms around him and hug him and be hugged by him. She always wished she could just—
She gave herself a mental shake, as it was pointless to waste her time thinking of all that she wished could be. The reality was he was the king, and she was an elven mage who served as his Arlessa and the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Friendship was all they were allowed… And anything else was for the rare stolen occasions and—
“Lyn?” Zevran asked quietly, her name spoken with a gentleness she knew came from genuine concern.
Vaelyn straightened and gave him a soft smile that was a rare admission she knew he would understand.
“Thank you for being his messenger, Zev.” She told him with quiet honesty.
Zevran offered her a small smile as he replied, “It was my pleasure.”
Vaelyn tried and failed to return her attention to her work, her concentration ruined by the unexpected gift, and the warm feelings it had brought. Zevran’s eyes had fluttered closed when a warmer ray of sun had broken free of the clouds to illuminate his spot in golden warmth. He looked like a cat napping in the sun, and that warmed Vaelyn’s heart in a different way. She loved him desperately, the two of them bonded in ways that were hard to put to words, but forever bound them together. Seeing him comfortable and at rest was its own kind of gift, as he didn’t let his guard down around just anyone. He was a rogue, a shameless liar, and possibly had even more blood on his hands then she did, but that didn’t change how she felt.
“How much longer do you think Alandria will be?” She asked him, earning one eyelid opening as he lazily eyed her.
He inhaled slowly as he stretched and stifled a yawn, before he matter of factly replied, “At least two more hours. Three if she loses her temper and stabs something or someone again.”
“Alright then, let’s go for a walk.” She announced as she busied herself with putting her things away and securing her gift in a drawer that locked.
Zevran glanced at the windows and complained, “A walk? In this cold?”
Vaelyn finished securing everything and then got up and stepped around her desk, her padded coat of Amaranthine yellow swishing around her legs as she walked over to the hooks on the wall opposite of the windows where her scarf and mittens hung.
“Yes, in this cold. You’ll be fine. I have been sitting here cramped up for too long, and stretching my legs is a good excuse to make a visit somewhere.” She told him, as she finished wrapping the scarf around her neck and gave him a mischievous look.
Zevran’s hesitance melted away as he met her gaze, excitement showing as he leapt from his seat. “Well then, since you put it that way, I shall endeavor to endure and accompany you through the frigid streets.”
Vaelyn smirked at him, “Word it however you like, but I know you just are in it for the cookies.”
Zevran accepted the spare cloak she’d had hanging on the wall, gracefully swung it over his shoulders and secured it, then offered her his arm and a charming smile.
“Who could blame me, when those cookies are as close to divine as one can find in this frozen wasteland. Your company is just the delightful cherry on this proverbial cake.” He said with a wink and a warmth in his eyes that spoke volumes to Vaelyn.
She accepted his arm, and then laughed when he maneuvered them sideways to fit through the doorway. They were a merry pair as they left the palace and made their way into the snowy streets of Denerim, arm in arm.
I was tagged by @woundedsoul12 in this post, to participate in a writing challenge by @thedissonantverses where you're tasked to write something based on the blue themed text dividers they'd made.
I'm tagging @feralkwe @chubritza @avoskorm @brennacedria and anyone else interested in doing it, because this was fun and the dividers are gorgeous.
Anyhoo, I was unsure what to do when something came to me, and next thing I knew I was writing. I've been busy with holiday prep, so I just finished editing it now.
This one takes place not too long after Awakening, and features my OG HoF, Vaelyn Surana.
Buried In The Blackmarsh
The sounds of the Blackmarsh were muted by the dense fog that seemed to always be present anytime they patrolled the area. It had been months since they’d dealt with the Baroness and the darkspawn acolytes, but still the place held onto a feeling of dread that was hard to ignore. Which is why the Warden-Commander made a point of visiting it regularly to make sure no other things had come to roost in their place. Rumors and reports of unnatural sounds and sights in the area had increased, and that had been enough for the Warden-Commander to return for another look.
“I hate it here.” Anders complained, as he scuffed his feet and frowned.
“You just hate being anywhere where you actually have to do things.” Nathaniel said with a hint of bitterness.
Anders turned to give Nathaniel a look of disdain, but the archer had anticipated that and was pointedly looking out into the fog so he could avoid having to meet the mage’s eyes. Anders weighed his options and made a decision, but before he could act on it, a sharp whistle cut through the air.
Sigrun, who had been standing quietly nearby, ordered the others, “Come on you grumpy nug-butts, you don’t want to make the boss wait.”
Nathaniel’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the insult, but he kept his mouth shut and just fell in next to his fellow Warden, catching up with her easily thanks to his long legs. Anders watched the others for just a moment and then jogged to catch up, muttering under his breath something about his boots feeling leaky. It didn’t take the trio very long to find the Warden-Commander, who stood still as a statue (eerily like the one that had been erected in her honor back in Denerim) near the edge of the ruined village. Her Mabari hound, Dane, sat next to her, ears swiveling as he tracked the sounds of the things the two-legged people probably couldn’t hear. The fog stayed away from Vaelyn Surana, as if her presence repelled it, making the area around her almost seem brighter by comparison.
“You called, Warden-Commander?” Nathaniel asked as he came to a stop just to her left.
Her face wasn’t visible thanks to her winged helm, but that didn’t stop the others from noticing the subtle nod and the quick signals she gave with her left hand that hung by her armored side. All three of the newer Wardens shared quick looks of alarm, as they processed her silent commands. Sigrun slunk back, and quietly disappeared into the bushes that barely clung to life in this perpetually damp and dusky place. Anders shuffled off to the Commander’s right, seemingly bored, but his fingers clutched his staff with a tightness that told his boss he was preparing himself for what would come next. Dane huffed and shifted to standing, as if annoyed, but his dark eyes turned to his mistress as if waiting for a signal.
Nathaniel shifted his grip on his bow, and darted a questioning glance at Vaelyn, who was still standing eerily still. Vaelyn noticed and turned her head just enough for him to catch a glimpse of her grey eyes glinting like silverite. She was confident, which meant that they’d probably survive the fight that was to come… Hopefully. She’d had that same look months ago when that ancient spectral dragon had formed, and he’d walked away from that fight with broken ribs and a concussion, but they’d won without anyone actually dying.
Vaelyn inhaled deeply, and then took nine measured steps forward, the fog rolling away from her as she moved. Dane padded along behind her, his hackles rising as they officially crossed into the village. She came to a stop once again and stood tall, her presence and character making her seem taller than she actually was.
“Be you Spirit or Demon, I offer you a chance to talk.” She announced, holding her arms out to show she did not have any weapons at the ready in her hands. Her voice echoed oddly through the air, some of it bouncing back at her with the words twisted and skewed. Seconds ticked by, then minutes, before a cruel laugh traveled her way from all sides.
“Talk? Hahahahaha. Why should we talk to you, when we could merely feast on your despair as we drain the life from your bones?” It replied, with one eerie voice from multiple directions.
Vaelyn inhaled slowly and then smoothly drew her swords from their sheathes on her back. Both were made of dragonbone, longswords made with expert craftsmanship; one was very old and covered in glowing runes, while the other crackled with purple tinged energy. They were weapons of power, and the way she held them showed she had the skill to wield them properly.
“Talk with me, so we may find a way to relocate you safely to somewhere away from mortals, or do not, and find yourself banished and destroyed.” Vaelyn commanded, her voice so full of power this time that it did not echo back, and the creature snarled in response as it failed to distort it.
“This place is mine! You cannot remove me from it! I have claimed it!” The thing screamed as it manifested in the open area at the center of the tiny village.
Vaelyn ran at it, and the demon surged to meet her, flickering in and out of being, as one creature and three as it did so. Just as she was almost within its reach, the warrior mage flickered out of existence, making the thing roar with frustration. Arrows hit it, their enchanted tips sparking bright as the demon reeled from the blows. Before it could recover a glyph manifested on the ground below it while it was distracted, caging it, and thus further enraging it. Vaelyn shimmered back into sight on its left, her lips moving as she sung a spell in ancient elven that snaked through the air and wove itself into the containment spell Anders had placed. The demon flailed at its cage but recoiled almost immediately once Vaelyn’s reinforcement spell had solidified. After one last pointless attack its form flickered, and the three shapes coalesced into one that had too many limbs, eyes, and mouths, that all grimaced as if it was in pain.
Vaelyn sheathed one of her swords and then walked the perimeter of the magical cage, studying the demon, who shook and flickered occasionally like it couldn’t settle on its shape. After
a few minutes had passed, she came to a stop and faced the thing.
“How long have you been like this?” She asked it, her tone full of command, but with a hint of something kind that made the demon grow very still.
There was another flicker, and for a moment one face stayed in place with a normal amount of features. The eyes in that face were deep and dark, and they stared back at the Warden-Commander with an intensity that made Nathaniel grip his bow a little tighter, and Anders shift his stance, but Vaelyn didn’t move, she just waited.
“Too long.” Its ragged voice answered.
“How did you come to be like this?” Vaelyn asked, still with that tone of command laced with kindness.
“A battle. War. Magic clashing and twisting. I remember calls for aid, commands for assistance. I was— We —were pulled through the veil. The tang of blood and then we were consumed!” It explained, uttering a keening sound at the end that made Dane pin his ears and Anders wince.
Vaelyn inhaled sharply and then nodded, as if the demon’s story had confirmed something for her. She sheathed her other sword and then removed her helm, setting it on the ground before she addressed the demon again.
“I can offer you a choice. I can send you back to the fade as you are. Or, I can attempt to unbind you, before sending you back to the fade once again. Either way, you cannot stay here. This place needs to heal, and cannot do so with a spirit such as yourself possessing it.”
A shudder passed through the demon, its faces flickering in rapid succession, as it made small sounds that seemed to be signs that it was talking to itself. Anders scowled at it and shot his Commander a worried look, but she ignored him and kept her eyes on their prisoner. After another minute had gone by, the demon solidified once again, and the trio of voices answered in unison, “We wish to be unbound.”
Vaelyn nodded and then immediately began issuing orders, setting her trio of Wardens into motion, as she got busy preparing herself for what was to come.
—
Fire roared, lighting up the night, as the remains of the Baroness’ mansion burned with an unnatural intensity. Anders, Nathaniel, and Sigrun, all stood nearby, just close enough to benefit from the heat without getting too close. Vaelyn and her hound were further away, curled up on the ground together, the Warden-Commander dozing while Dane kept watch.
“I don’t understand how she can just sleep like that?” Nathaniel muttered, half to himself, after glancing over at the sleeping elven woman still in her full armor.
Sigrun snorted, “I can. Sleeping in armor isn’t that bad.”
Nathaniel shook his head, “No, not because of the armor. I don’t know how she can sleep while there is a literal inferno going on and she just heard horrific stories of the past from demons.”
“Spirits. Not demons.” Anders corrected, his expression unusually solemn.
“Same thing.” Nathaniel grumbled, clearly unhappy to be corrected by the mage.
Anders bristled a little in response, and snapped out, “No. And especially not in this case. They didn’t choose to become a monster, they were bound and changed by Magisters who cared only for power. They were turned into a weapon against their will. It was a tragedy.”
An awkward silence filled the air for the next few minutes, before Sigrun made a thoughtful sound, ending it.
“What I want to know is how the boss knew it wasn’t just a regular demon? And why she wanted you to burn this place to bits?” She asked Anders, as she gestured at the burning mansion.
Anders glanced back over at Vaelyn for just a moment, before he turned his attention back to Sigrun, his blond hair looking copper from the firelight.
“I don’t really know the answer to your first question. Vaelyn has always had a reputation for solving problems unconventionally, and for being stubborn. I remember Beth telling me how much it annoyed some of the Senior Enchanters when Vaelyn would figure out how to get results without following their lesson plans… As for the second question, my best guess is that she thinks there is something under this place that is attracting the attention of demons and the like.” Anders explained.
“Huh. Alright.” Sigrun commented, before walking a few steps away and finding a rock to sit on.
Nathaniel looked thoughtfully into the fire for a minute, and then quietly commented, “I forgot you two knew each other before.”
Anders shrugged, “It’s not like we were best friends or anything, we both just lived in the same place, and had some mutual acquaintances… I more heard about her from them. I can count the amount of times we spoke to each other in the tower on one hand. We didn’t really run in the same social circles.”
“So you two didn’t date then?” Nathaniel asked, as he stared accusingly at Anders.
Anders recoiled visibly, as he blurted out, “Maker, no! Andraste’s knickers, why would you even think that?”
Nathaniel raised a skeptical eyebrow, as he replied, “Because I have seen you flirt with just about anything that will give you attention. And I heard you had a similar reputation even in the Circle.”
Anders scoffed and folded his arms across his chest.
“I can’t help that I’m charming and people like talking to me. I just think you’re jealous. As for my reputation in the Circle, it was greatly exaggerated, I can assure you.”
It was Nathaniel’s turn to scoff this time, before he eyed Anders and told him, “Enchanter Amell told me otherwise.”
“Mariel wouldn’t understand romance if it smacked her in the face, so she’s not a trustworthy source in regards to this topic.” Anders said.
“That’s a lot of words, and not an actual denial. So she was right then?” Nathaniel countered, a little smugly.
Anders glared back at him as he said, “Shut up.”
Nathaniel chuckled quietly to himself, and took a few steps away, before glancing up at the stars. Stars that slowly tracked their way across the night sky over the next two hours. As the mansion continued to burn brightly, thanks to Anders adding magical fuel to the flames any time it tried to die down. Not surprising anyone, the Warden-Commander woke and drank some water, just before Anders had decided that his work was just about done.
When it was time, it was a simple matter for the two mages to work together to put out the fire and eliminate any hotspots with some spells. With that done, Vaelyn channeled a small twister of force magic to lift the ashes and coals clear of the ruin and dump them somewhere behind it. Content with their work, Vaelyn led the others into the eerily empty place that remained. It was made of stone that predated the Baroness’ mansion by thousands of years. She’d clearly used the elven ruin as the foundation for her home, and no one had noticed because it had lain underground. Stairs led them down, Vaelyn holding a mage light aloft to illuminate their path as they carefully picked their way through rubble and charred chunks of lumber.
“What is that?” Sigrun asked, as a shape loomed up out of the dark.
Vaelyn paused, and then grinned, as she replied, “Proof that I was right. You three can go back up. I’ll place some wards on it to protect it and keep it from causing anymore problems until I can come back with the right kind of help.”
—
A few more months passed before Vaelyn could return to the ruins that had lain hidden under the Baroness’ mansion. This time, however, the Blackmarsh was transformed. It thrummed with life, and the air was warm from the summer sunlight that filtered through the scrubby trees covered in fresh blooms and buds. The village was still abandoned, but there was a trio of fishing huts in a different area that were newly constructed, as Fereldans were as practical as they were superstitious. Good fishing ground never went unclaimed for long in these parts.
It took Vaelyn and her help all day to successfully calm and bind the ancient protections that had preserved the relic in their midst. But in the end it was done, and the thing was wrapped in blankets and carefully loaded into the wagon they’d brought to transport it. Enchanter Mariel Amell carefully sealed the massive crate that they’d had waiting in the wagon, before hopping down and shooting Vaelyn a look of pleased satisfaction.
“All done. Now we just need to get it back to the Vigil and secure it in the newly upgraded storeroom.” Mariel announced, with a gleam of triumph in her brown eyes.
Vaelyn nodded, and then let her own eyes close for a moment, as she said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever or whatever might be listening. The Spirits she’d unbound whispered back from the other side of the veil, echoing her gratitude with their own, as the nearby waking world and the fade settled into a more peaceful pattern after eons of unrest.
Vaelyn Surana had always been different. Her mother had told her all those born in their bloodline had always been like that. It manifested differently in each individual, but it was still there, especially in times of trouble or when the fate of others were on the line. Brithari had theorized it was connected to why so many of their family were mages. Even the ones who weren’t mages had strong connections to the fade, and uncanny senses for the arcane that often helped them survive despite the odds.
Sometimes Vaelyn had dreams that felt like more than dreams. The ones she had where the veil was thin were some of the most vivid. They weren’t the same as her experiences exploring the fade in her sleep. No these were akin to visions of what could have been, or might come to be. She’d had a particularly vivid one the night after her Harrowing, where she’d ignored Jowan and ended up fighting demons alongside Mariel as the tower was consumed by blood and chaos. It had been so vivid that she woke up with the taste of fear and bile on her tongue, and when Jowan had asked for her help she had not hesitated, as surely helping him would have a happier ending than what she had seen…
Years later, while exploring ruins in the woods, she’d encountered a tower and had an experience that had confirmed the things she’d seen over the years had been visions of what could come to be, or might have been. Her conversation with the ancient being who protected the place had been illuminating… Her choices, and the ones made by the other people who had fit into her life like stars in the same constellation, had resulted in this life and this future she lived. If she’d been younger or seen less of what could have been she would have been terrified about learning that, but she had seen enough of what could have been to find comfort in the choices she’d made.
Somewhere out there, the ripples of time and circumstance had pushed her a different way. She had not joined the Order before Jowan’s escape attempt, and Duncan had gone to Highever instead of Kinloch hold. Vaelyn had still ended up fighting in the war against the fifth blight, but in a more supportive role. She’d fallen in love with the same man, and lost him soon after, while her friend who was now the Hero had stepped into a role and loveless marriage to save their home. She’d become a Warden still, but that’s where most of the similarities stopped.
Most of the time when she had these visions, or was granted peeks into the ocean of time and magic that held them all, she was able to learn important information, or glean a perspective that had not occurred to her before. Most of the time it was educational, or so she liked to tell herself. She tried not to dwell on the images that had left her feeling shaken and bereft. Even though sometimes she could close her eyes and feel the blood on her skin as a friend took their last breath in her arms, in the life she hadn’t lived.
She almost never spoke of the things she’d seen. Sometimes there were exceptions, like when the guardian of the tower had bid her to extend an invitation to her cousin, Nesithra. Mariel had been informed about some of what Vaelyn had seen, as Vaelyn could always count on her being impartial in regards to things like this. Oghren had learned of it, after Vaelyn had awoken with a start one night by the fire in her private sitting room, with silent tears running down her face. She’d had to explain things to him, and he’d taken it surprisingly well, sighing as she concluded and patting her arm consolingly, before telling her with a hint of humor, “Better you than me, Lyn. I’d not only forget half of what I saw, but then probably drink myself to death to get that bronto-shit to stop.”
As the years slid by and the world changed, Vaelyn’s visions never stopped, but their focus often shifted. She took them as they came, adding the information she’d gleaned from them to her mental list, and then moving on, because that was what she could do. Her days were full enough without her having to worry about the futures that could have been. Not that she didn’t utilize the things she learned, she just didn’t let herself dwell on the things she’d seen… At least not when she was working.
“Mama?” A rich voice asked, as a head poked into her office, that held hazel-gold eyes full of worry.
Vaelyn looked up from her journal, and raised an eyebrow in a silent question as she motioned with her free hand for her daughter to come in. Mary Brithari Surana slipped into the room wearing a loose shirt and woolen leggings, her hair wisping from her braid. She’d clearly been sleeping, but something had woken her up, which made Vaelyn’s concern flare.
“I had another one of those dreams…” Mary told her quietly, after closing the office door behind her and coming to a stop in front of her mother’s desk.
“Ir abelas, ma da’vhenan. Do you want to talk about it?” Vaelyn asked, as she put her pen aside and readied herself to stand.
Mary closed her eyes and looked thoughtful, and for just a moment Vaelyn saw a younger version of herself in the set of her jaw and the way her chin lifted. Most of the time all Vaelyn saw was Alistair or her parents in Mary’s face, but occasionally, when things were hard, there were parts of herself that shown through. She wished foolishly that she never had to see herself in her daughter, as she already felt Mary had more to deal with than a young person should.
“I don’t know if I should… It was about— No, nevermind, you were working and this isn’t urgent.” Mary said, starting slowly but picking up speed quickly enough that it was abundantly clear she was uncomfortable and trying to protect her mother. Vaelyn knew her daughter too well.
“So what did you see about me? Do you want to talk here? Or shall we go to the kitchen and talk about it over some tea?” Vaelyn asked, as she smoothly stepped out from behind her desk.
Mary blinked owlishly at her mother, and for a moment she almost looked the age she should be, but that quickly slipped away and the young woman she’d become was there again. Her golden-hazel eyes met Vaelyn’s stormy grey ones, and after she took a breath, she shrugged her shoulders gently and said, “Tea wouldn’t be bad.”
Vaelyn lifted a callused but gentle hand to Mary’s cheek, cupping it for just a moment, before smiling and letting it fall away so they could head to the kitchen. It was late, but the staff were used to the Warden-Commander’s late nights, so they always left enough coals in the stove for it to be brought back to life with ease. The kettle was already full, and it didn’t take long to heat. Vaelyn moved easily as she made the tea and put together a plate of food for them to share, all while listening to her daughter recount the dream or vision that had brought her here.
It was a tale that Vaelyn was not unfamiliar with. A continuation of the life she might have led where she was not the Hero. The life where she was a Warden, where she’d still been Mary’s mother, but for her child’s safety they’d both been forced to leave Ferelden and the places they’d called home. A world that was the same but very different, where Alistair was still King, but Kestrial was Queen, and the gossip columns of the papers never ceased to speculate about how loveless their marriage was. Where Vaelyn Surana, well respected but eternal thorn in the side of the First Warden, was constantly forced to wander across Thedas without ever really getting to settle anywhere or return to the places she loved. Where Mary Brithari had joined the Veil Jumpers in a desperate bid for escape and a chance to make her own life, only to find herself fighting the same battles all over again. Vaelyn had seen it all before, including the path where Mary had stepped into the role of Rook, grateful for the opportunity to help Varric and get away from Strife’s judgemental eye.
“No, Mama. That’s the thing. It wasn’t me, or Rev, or even Matteo, who became Rook, in this one.” Mary told her, shaking her head after she finished swallowing a sip of her tea.
Vaelyn took a sip of her own tea as she made an inquisitive sound that invited Mary to go on. She wasn’t surprised Mary had gotten a glimpse at another future, as there was as many of those as there were nugs in deep roads. Choices creating an endless cascade of possibilities across time and space.
“You were Rook. You, Mama.” Mary told her, expression serious, and shoulders tense.
“Well, that’s a new one.” Vaelyn commented idly, as she put her cup down and reached for a piece of cheese.
Mary just stared at her, as if she expected her mother to react differently after having another moment to process this new revelation. But Vaelyn didn’t react any differently, just ate a bite of cheese with a piece of bread, before she took another sip of tea. Mary eventually let out a sound of frustration and then leaned forward to stare at her mother as she asked her, “That’s all the reaction you have? Really? I saw you as Rook, living in the Lighthouse!”
Vaelyn shrugged her shoulders and then leveled a look of patience her daughter’s way, “That’s all the reaction I have. Would you prefer something more dramatic? Well if so, you’re out of luck, as you know I’ve never been one for pointless theatrics.”
Mary pursed her lips, and then something sharp glinted in her eyes, just before she told Vaelyn, “I saw you kissing Emmrich.”
“Are you worried your friend is going to be jealous or something? Because I’m fairly certain he’s smart enough to know that an alternate version of me isn’t a real threat… Come to think of it, he’d probably just compliment me for having good taste. I mean, Professor Emmrich Volkarin is well respected, and purportedly quite the romantic, so I could see how in the right set of circumstances we would end up—”
Mary threw her hands up, her expression alarmed, as she cut her mother off before she could continue, “Stop! Stop right there! Mother… I should’ve known better. Spirits, you’re too old to be talking about—”
It was Vaelyn’s turn to cut Mary off this time, as she put her cup down and leveled a frosty look of disapproval her way.
“Too old? How is forty-four too old to talk about romance?! I’ll have you know that just because I have some grey hairs doesn’t mean my interest in sex and affairs of the heart just dry up and stop existing… I can’t believe my daughter is such a prude in regards to her elders.”
Mary squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, then countered, “I’m not a prude! How could I be, when I was raised around Wardens and your friends? I just don’t– enjoy –thinking about my mother’s potential love life with a man I consider a friend in multiple places. But that’s not even really it…”
Mary sighed, and then held her cup tightly in her hands before she stared down at it and continued, “It was weird to see you so alone. I could understand you making a… connection with Emmrich, as he at least could keep up with you and would be able to appreciate you… I don’t know, Mama, it was weird, and unsettling. I guess I’m just glad that is not how our lives worked out…”
Vaelyn nodded her understanding, eyes drifting upwards for a moment as she recalled her own visions of that world where she felt so alone. Mary wasn’t wrong, but if Vaelyn didn’t do something, her daughter would dwell on what she’d seen instead of getting the rest she needed.
“That’s not even the weirdest one, da’vhenan. Did I ever tell you about the one where I ended up as the Inquisitor?”
Mary’s eyebrows shot upwards so quickly her whole forehead moved, which made Vaelyn’s heart feel warm, as it reminded her of all the times Alistair’s face had made the same expression.
“No. You definitely haven’t told me about that one!” Mary blurted out, as she leaned forward with expectant excitement.
“It was very weird, what I saw. I mostly remember your Uncle Varric trying to keep a straight face as he pretended not to know me.”
Vaelyn managed to keep Mary distracted all the way through them finishing their tea and midnight snack. She answered questions as they cleared the table and washed their dishes, finally parting in the hallway with a hug, before Mary went back to her bed for the remainder of the night. Vaelyn headed back to her office, where she tried and failed to finish what she’d been working on.
She eventually gave up and reached into a drawer for the small tome she kept there. It took but a moment to unlock the enchantments that protected it. Once she had it open she skimmed through the pages until she got to a more recently filled out one at the back. She added detail Mary had told her to the entry, then started a new page where she wrote something else. With that done she numbered it, and then skimmed through the pages one last time before she needed to put it away. The book was nearly two-thirds full, details of all the lives she’d lived in other worlds and times copied down with clinical precision. More than half of those included death dates for herself, where her life had ended abruptly, and over horrifically. One of those deaths still haunted her dreams; it was the one where she’d not found the answers she’d had and ended up getting her Calling early. She’d left a very young Mary behind, and gone into the deeproads with nothing more than old armor and a pair of swords in her hands. When she closes her eyes she still can feel the claws tearing at her skin, as the laugh of triumphant joy escaped her lungs before she’d thrown herself over a ledge above a lava spring. She could smell the sulfur and her own flesh burning if she focused on the memory.
Just for a moment she let her hands come up and hold her face as she held her eyes closed and focused on her breathing. Her shoulders sagged, her heart ached, as once again she was confronted with the painful realization that as bad as things were, they could have been so much worse. She’d worked so hard, and sacrificed so much, to secure this future. She just had to keep going, keep fighting, and soon there was a chance that they’d come out the other side of this war with a victory. The cost was going to be high, but it always was, no matter the war, or the hero who took on the burden. Vaelyn pulled herself back together, opened her eyes, let her hands drop, and then carefully closed the book and stashed it back in her desk once the magical locks were back in place. With that done, she finished summing up things in her journal, so she could attempt to get some sleep of her own. But her hand lingered, and the fingers that held her pen resisted the idea of putting it back just yet. She inhaled deeply, and then quickly wrote, “Telanadas.”
Nothing was inevitable.
Vaelyn Surana was a testament to that.
There is a fic on Ao3 that I wrote back in 2020 that is about that tower in the woods... >_>
