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greypetrel · 2 months

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Hello! ⭐ Maybe "i had a dream about you" for Raina? Feel free to change it tho!

Hey there! <3

I kept Raina, but hoping you don’t mind, I tried to dip my feet in the Whale AU 2.0, the fully original one. I blame @theluckywizard for putting the HawkexInquisitor bug in my ear. Then I remembered that my toxic trait is recycling characters. I know this, as all OC content here will interest three people, but please indulge me. Raina will change her name, but I kept her as Raina still for commodity. A sketch at the bottom!

Ah for your knowledge: we’re in Iceland in the Edwardian Era, I still haven’t set a precise date, but I’m pending towards 1910.

Tis the prompt list

Morning, Noon and Nightime, too

“I had a dream about you”

[ Famale Hawke x Female Lavellan || An Edwardian AU || 3256 words || CW: Shipwrecks, storms, non-graphic description of violence ]

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown. - T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Raina was born by the ocean. Raised on it. Her first steps had been on her father’s boat, her first memories were by the seaside. She knew the ocean, her feet were more stable on a ship than on dry land. She knew how to move, knew how to read the waves, knew when a storm was coming and it was time to seek shelter and drop the anchor, knew how to move if the coast was too far and the anchor wouldn’t reach the bottom.

That night, nothing mattered.

That night was cold and wet and salty, she was cold to her bones, the ship swayed left and right, waves scroshing down the bridge white with foam, too much for her footing to keep sure.

At a certain point, she had to hang on the railing and wait for the next wave to shift the Hvalur around and sweep the bridge. It made it slippery and wet, but she had something to hang onto and avoid slipping down, down, in the black of the water and to a certain death.

She was desperately trying to reach the wheel, but it seemed like the hull extended longer and longer the more steps she took. The more difficult, harsh and slippery steps she took. It felt like for each step she made, the storm pushed her back two.

Rain filled her eyes, it didn’t matter how much oilskin she had covered herself with. The ship rolled too much for it to be effective, the Northern Atlantic cold and unforgiving. It mattered little that it was the same ocean that saw her whole life passing by.

She used her hands to drag herself further. Further. A little more, headed to the stern lantern. Closer and closer, she gritted her teeth in effort, pushing her heavy, cold legs to work for a little more. Just a little more, and-

- someone yelled to her back, someone Raina knew.

If she thought her blood was frozen from the cold before, she was wrong. It froze now, recognizing that voice as her brain filled with dread.

She turned, heart beating fast, in time to see two things.

The first, was that whales were blowing in the water, puff glowing starkly white against the blackness of the surroundings, black noses emerging, mastodontic tails breaking the waves right after. Everything was fast and quick, but those tails, growing bigger and bigger -too big, a part of her brain knew they weren’t as-

The second thing was Aisling, climbing over the railing of the vessel. One foot, the other, hands propping herself up on the border…

Panic took her, making her limbs suddenly light, too light. She forgot about the ship -she never reached the wheel in time and the ship wrecked, she knew, trying to change it was pointless anyway- and lunged for the other woman. The ship was lost, but Aisling was not. Aisling would not be. She let go, slipped and turned, yelled at her not to jump, it wasn’t-

- Thunder cracked in the sky, illuminating the night, and everything seemed to go slower.

Raina turned, in time to see a tail -huge, enormous, too enormous- contrasting black against the whitened sky, horribly close to her. Aisling slipped and fell with a yelp that wasn’t happiness, was dread.

Raina knew what was about to happen. She knew it all too well.

She saw the same scene before, after all, even if she couldn’t remember when or why, and some details where off. It was the first time that Aisling was there, but the rest, she knew.

Time sped up, recovering the pause of before. The tail descended on the ship, heavy and quick, the ship tilted to it obediently.

A crash, a boom, the pavement slipped from under her feet and her hand lost grip, Raina collided heavily on the water.

The ocean filled her clothes, slipped inside her oilskin, her trousers and sweater and shirt. She thrashed madly, confused and not understanding where was up and where was down.

Everything was black, she never felt so cold in her life, nor so scared.

Or well, she already saw and felt everything there, and she, indeed, felt just as cold and just as scared.

But she couldn’t remember when.

She saw Aisling back again, taken down by huge jaws full of teeth, eyes void.

She screamed, and her lungs filled with water and salt.

A familiar flavour, at least, just before she drowned.

---

Raina woke up screaming from the bottom of her lungs, jolting awake and up.

She couldn’t breathe -or well, she could but it was difficult- her heart thrummed in her ears, and she was still mortally cold, and felt wet. Everything she saw was black, black, a vast nothingness and an infinite ocean where up and down were the same thing, and each meant death.

She struggled to breathe, body not fully responding, blinking and squinting to get a clue of where she was, anything to tell her that it wasn’t the bottom of the Atlantic, there were no whales around her.

Something shifter beside her, something else squeaked from the same direction, but it made her just more on pins and needles than she was before.

“Raina?”

A voice, groggy with sleep, which brought a too vivid image to her mind. Not being able to see her didn’t help: she kept imagining her maimed and mauled, brought down in the ocean by sharp teeth.

“It’s ok. It’s just me. It’s fine, you’re safe.”

Aisling kept on, shifting closer, voice soft and quiet. Not the voice of a person who is dying. It calmed her a little, but not seeing her didn’t fully help, even if slowly breathing was becoming easier.

“Can I touch you?”

She asked, and slowly, oh so slowly she approached. Raina felt the faintest of touches, barely the shifting of the cloth on her shoulders, brushing over her skin. When she didn’t react, the touch became a real one, hands placing delicately on her shoulders. Gradually, very gradually, fingers squeezed, and when nothing else happened, the squeeze became a hug, a cheek rested on her shoulder, she felt hair brushing on her jaw.

Her body wouldn’t move on its own, but she let Aisling gently move her, to lean on her more thoroughly first -her fingers combed through her hair, nails gently scratching her scalp- and then down, back to bed, when her breathing got more regular and her shoulders unclenched some.

She remembered where she was, then, and why it was so dark.

It wasn’t the ocean, it was Aisling’s hut. The embers in the fireplace must have extinguished, and the rain still ticked on the glass of the curtained window, behind the steel bars of the bed’s headboard. They were sharing the bed because Aisling received some bad news about her research, yesterday, and all she had asked was if she could sleep in her bed tonight, and not in the hammock hanging from the ceiling. Raina couldn’t tell her no, not when she had looked so uncharacteristically down. It was her bed, after all, and Raina had been occupying it since two months. Two months since Aisling found her on shore, miraculously still alive after the shipwreck. She tried to offer to sleep in the hammock, but she was too tall for it, and too heavy for the hook in the ceiling. So, they shared.

Sweat had cooled down on her skin and she shivered. Quickly, the blankets were back on her. Aisling shifted around, as she kept chatting in a soft voice about what she was doing and why. Tucking her in, so she was fully covered, the night was chilly and they both didn’t want her to get another fever. Fixing the sheet and the blanket together, Raina apparently had twisted them around while thrashing in sleep.

It was too much, and a part of her brain was screaming to tell her to stop -she would have, Raina had only to ask. One thing was pining and finding her cute and not acting upon it not to make the situation any weirder than it already was, another was sharing a bed, waking her up in the middle of the night and taking advantage of her kindness like so.

Maybe it was the nightmare, maybe it was still some lingering fear that clutched her throat and her heart like so, maybe it was the bone-deep need of knowing she was unharmed, she wasn’t bloody and drowning.

Raina listened to the other part of her brain, and as soon as Aisling too, finally, curled down beneath the covers, she shifted forward and slipped her arms around her waist, dragging her closer.

She felt the other gasp, the chatting stopped for a moment. Raina squeezed her eyes hard and clutched the other’s body closer, if but for a moment before rejection came crushing hard on her.

The moment passed, another came. And another.

The next, she felt Aisling sigh and shift. Not to slip away, but to slip an arm in the crook of her neck and hug her shoulders back, cheek resting on top of her head and fingers coming back to caress her hair, tread in short black locks leisurely.

“Don’t let me go.” It slipped out of Raina’s lips automatically, without her thinking too much about it. She would have hated how hoarse and whiny it sounded, if there had been anyone else with her.

“I won’t.” Aisling just told her, staying right where she was and hugging her tighter in all answer.

Soft and steady between her arms and under her cheek, she pressed her ear on her shoulder, and felt her heart beating, her chest rise and fall with breath.

She smelled liked salty water, but on her, it didn’t make her antsy.

Her breath calmed, and she forget embarrassment and pining, and let the solid body in her arm, the fingers in her hair, Iull her back to a dreamless sleep.

---

The next time she woke up, the hut was illuminated by grey light filtering from the other window in the kitchen corner.

The day was cloudy, and there was still noise of rain, more intense on the glass, even if curtains were drawn to cover the window on the bed.

Raina, on her belly, took a moment to get used to the waking world again. She didn’t feel so tired after all, even if she felt a weird pressure on her back, pinning her down.

The cupboards and cabinets were all in their place, with the stove. The table was still full of papers, books and writing materials in terrible order, the fireplace, the yellow armchair beside the bed, in front of her, was still there. Everything -the few things that could fit that barrack, that was, and they had to choose between the table and a second bed because both wouldn’t have fitted- was exactly where she left them the night before.

It felt silly, now, to have actually believed that it was the ocean and everything could have been swept away by the storm.

She couldn’t see in the dark the whales and waves and sea animals painted on the walls. And even if she could, Aisling was an enthusiastic painter, but not a talented one. She knew that was a seal –“a sea lion, that’s very different”- only because she tried to guess and mistook it for an otter first. Little to fear, even in the night and after a nightmare.

She shifted, trying to get awake and at least get some of her dignity back by getting breakfast ready, when Aisling groaned, too close for comfort, and the weight on her back shifted, something squeezed her waist.

Raina fell back down with wide eyes, turning her head as she could to glimpse the curve of Aisling’s back at her side, disappearing up her back when she couldn’t see. One of her arms stuck close to her bust.

Fuck.

Embarrassment came all back, and the exact memory of what she did in the night crushed on her barely awake conscience. Well, she was fully awake now, and ready to panic.

Aisling had found her after the shipwreck and welcomed her in her home. In the home that was allegedly too small for one person alone. She left her her bed, slept in an old hammock that she hung on a hook on the wall that couldn’t have surrected Raina’s weight. Aisling never complained, never once even when they quarreled because all the biologist could speak about were whales and Raina didn’t want to hear anything about them that wasn’t how monstrous they were.

And two months later, she took advantage of her kindness in that way.

Hell, she had a fiancée back home. A façade of one, but still she had one.

And Raina didn’t want to intrude letting her know that she could as well see her as more than a friend. Now it would have been difficult to explain otherwise.

But, as her pining mind scrambled to find a passable excuse that kept her behaviour proper and fitting, Aisling shifted again. She felt her nuzzling in the space between her shoulder blades, rustling her shirt, squeeze her waist with her arms and curl up more snugly against her side, groaning with a groggy voice.

“Mmmmh, five minutes more…”

Which was perfectly, blissfully normal, and made Raina snort, despite her heart beating too fast.

“Let me go-” she didn’t want her to let her go. “-and I’ll get breakfast ready while you sleep some more?”

Another groan from her back, longer.

“No. You’re warm and cozy.”

That didn’t help.

“And you told me not to let you go.”

That helped even less.

Raina cleared her throat, biting her tongue before her traitorous mouth could answer with something else she would have regretted later.

She shifted amongst drowsy protests and arms trying to keep her there -that helped very, very little- and seeing her face all pouty still with her eyes squeezed close made her want to bend down and kiss her.

Bad.

She bravely resisted the urge, and deftly slipped her pillow between Aisling’s arms, slipping down the bed and depositing her back on the mattress. She ruffled her hair -that was proper, maybe- and tucked the blanket up her shoulder.

And went directly to the kitchen, hoping that cooking would have cleared her mind more, and maybe distracted Aisling enough to forget to talk about things Raina wasn’t exactly ready to discuss.

She lit the fire in the hearth and then approached the kitchen. Picked from the larder eggs, butter, sugar, milk and flour. It was a pancake day she decided, and shifted bowls and tools out of their cupboards. Cooking had been something she took up since she could stand for long enough. Partly to thank Aisling for her hospitality, partly to not feel so much a dead weight and get a little less restless while forced to rest, partly because Aisling was even worse a cook than she was a painter.

And, the stove allowed her to give her back to Aisling, and clear her mind with another task to keep her hands busy. Crack the eggs, mix them with sugar, add the melted butter and the milk, add flour, little by little.

Skillet on the fire, she let some butter melt on the iron, swinging the pan back and fort to distribute it.

Mechanical tasks that kept her attention on them. Soon enough, whatever emotion was swirling around in her mind -how Aisling smelled like sea-salt, the exact curve of her waist- tuned down, substituted by pouring batter and checking it didn’t burn up.

It lasted little. Muffled steps on the wooden planks, a chair got dragged back, and her roommate sighed heavily, paper rustling under her arms.

“Pancakes?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, what’s the occasion?”

“You had a rough day yesterday… I thought it could cheer you up.” It was true. Also, a thank you for not making it weird.

“Mh.” She hummed, with a certain tone that told Raina she wasn’t convinced. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” Raina asked back, too briskly maybe, her muscles contracting.

Aisling got the hint and waited before answering. Her eyes burned on Raina’s neck, but she soldiered on, flipping one pancake on a plate and pouring another ladleful of batter on the skillet, rolling it around to spread it in a circle. Just another officer checking her work, she was. Nothing she hadn’t faced before. Or so she tried to tell herself.

“What did you dream about?”

Aisling, finally, asked, voice impossibly soft, hesitating as if she wasn’t fully sure she even could ask.

They’ve been in contact in a narrow space for enough time -Raina spent almost half her life on ships to know that time didn’t matter much in relationships of any kind between humans when space was scarce. And the hut was narrower than any ship she ever worked on. She knew that the biologist wouldn’t have minded if she had changed the topic. She knew all too well. And yet…

…Yet, that kindness melted away fears. She knew, from experience, that if she had told her, she wouldn’t have minded. As she wasn’t minding last night accomodations and talking to her normally now.

Raina sighed heavily, flipping the pancake around. She burned it a little, in all her musing, and she glared at him as if it was its fault.

After a minute, she slid it on the other plate she had readied -her own-, and left the skillet on the stove on its own, turning towards Aisling.

“I dreamt about you.”

She declared, simple as that. No pain, no gain.

Aisling’s cheek turned pinker, and it was her turn to lower her eyes.

“Oh.” She just told her. “I see. Well, I must have been horrible if you woke up so startled, I apologise.”

Raina laughed at that. Let it to her to apologise for someone else’s dreams. Aisling turned her face up, giggling shily with her.

“Anything else?” Aisling asked, a smile still on her face.

“Well...” Raina shrugged, turning back to the skillet. More butter on it, and more pancakes when the butter melted. “The usual.”

She told her, ironizing on how only her could try and make friend with a gigantic whale on a murder spree. It made Aisling laugh, agreeing and counter-arguing -as Raina knew she would have- that the whale surely had her good reasons, probably was just scared and didn’t do it on purpose.

In the morning light, with laughter filling the room, the perfume of sweets in the air and rain ticking rhythmically on the windows and buttering the sea outside the window, it all seemed less scary and less serious than it did even half an hour before.

They ate their breakfast, still bickering and laughing about how murderous whales exactly were, as their usual.

Aisling said nothing about the night and sleeping hugged together.

But, she shifted on the chair, collecting her legs on the sittee -she could sit straight only if she took an effort- and one of her feet rested on Raina’s chair, at her right over the corner of the table. Toes gently resting on her thigh.

Raina felt herself blushing, Aisling smiled and her cheeks were pink as well. Nobody said anything about it, and it felt right, there and then, before another day fully began.

It didn’t help at all, but Raina didn’t mind it.

#whale au #dragon age inquisition #hawke x inquisitor #writing #writing petrel #aisling lavellan #raina hawke #I have NO idea how to tag this LOL #doodle #koalaisling is back on track #if you read this and want to ask something/send a prompt do so!

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theluckywizard · 5 months

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Long Fic Art Roundup!

I thought I'd share a smattering of artwork I've created for my longfic this morning! I got my iPad a few months into writing the fic so the art doesn't really heat up until In Your Heart Shall Burn. I'll have to go back and illustrate earlier stuff at some point!

In the Shattering of Things

WC: 325,000+, WIP New chapters every Sunday or Monday Ships: Cullen x f!Trevelyan, m!Hawke x f!Trevelyan Vibes: Slow burn, mutual pining, fluff and angst, multiple relationships, eventual smut, flawed characters, multiple ships, fast burn, hurt/comfort, flawed relationships, canon divergence

Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Lots more art below the cut! 👇

There are a lot more illustrations in the fic, but these are some of my favorites!

#Dragon Age Fan Art #Cullevelyan #Cullen x Trevelyan #Cullen x Inquisitor #Hawke x Trevelyan #Hawke x Inquisitor #Bit of a Love Triangle I Admit #But Grown Up Edition!#Warrior!Hawke #Blue-Purple Hawke #Dragon Age Inquisition #My Art #Luckywizardart #Rose Trevelyan #Garrett Hawke #Cullen Rutherford #Rogue Inquisitor

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macatt4c · 1 year

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✨them✨

that’s it. that’s the post.

#inqyhawke #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor x hawke #da2 hawke #garrett hawke #hawke x inquisitor #inquisihawke #dalish inquisitor #inquisitor mahariel #mahariel #oc x oc ship

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bythetitsofmyancestors · 11 months

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Shipping Hawke and The Inquisitor.

Shipping both my Hawkes with my Inquisitor actually but she'll be appearing later.

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vraehan · 1 year

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My first art post in 2023 is dragon age what a surprise

#I haven’t posted much of my lavellan but much much love to my grouchy sleep deprived inquisitor #and her stupid ambitious godly bf #dragon age #fenris #hawke #fenris x hawke #fenhawke #zevran #tabris #zevran x tabris #lavellan #solas #solavellan #solas x lavellan #my art

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alltears · 1 year

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dragon age twitter au? dragon age twitter au. LGBT EDITION

#dragon age #inquisition #dai #da2 #varrhawke #varhawke #varric x hawke #varric tehtras #hawke #inquisitor #cullen rutherford #cassandra pentaghast #sera #lgbt #gay #dragon age twt

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laniardraws · 1 year

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This is stupid. Anyway

#isabela #merrill #anders #justice #hawke #garrett hawke #marian hawke #handers #hawkemerribela #inquisitor x josephine x blackwall #inquisitor #josephine montilyet #blackwall #dragon age #my art #oc sorra #inquisitor adaar #sorra adaar

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ndostairlyrium · 7 months

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...I did skip WIP Wednesday but I'm leaving u a munched up ball of yarn at your door as compensation

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marshsano · 1 year

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now that i’ve gathered all you anders fans to my page with my amazing propaganda, sit down while i talk to you about INQUISITOR ANDERS.

also gave anders one of hawke’s favors on his staff because i think he deserves one.

#my art #dragon age hawke #dragon age #inquisitor anders #dragon age 2 #handers fanart #handers #dragon age 2 fanart #anders dragon age #hawke x anders #anders x hawke

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eyeofthenewt1 · 1 year

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Dragon age art dump

mostly sketches of my OCs Rowan Lavellan and Maraa Kost Adaar! I'm currently working on a cosplay of Maraa btw :p

#dragon age #dragon age inquistion #annathenewtocs #annathenewt art #da:i oc #dragon age oc #dragon age fanart #DA2 #da2 fanart #anders x hawke #handers #inquisitor lavellan #qunari #anders dragon age #hawke dragon age

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not-oscar-wilde · 11 months

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we have a fair amount of ‘tevinter boyfriend hates the cold winters down south and requires cuddles to warm him up’, but have we considered the opposite?

southern boyfriend visits tevinter in summer and becomes absolutely insufferable because it is two damn hot and he is DYING

#primarily imagining hawke being a dramatic asshole about the heat #but equally could apply to many dorian love interests #(thinking mainly a lot of inquisitors or cullen ngl)#(not my inquisitor tho he’s tal vashoth and Built Different enough for most weather)#fenhawke #fenris #dorian pavus #dragon age #dorian x inquisitor #cullrian #also this post was brought to you by ‘it’s too damn hot’

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j-nightingalesb1tch · 5 months

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unpopular opinion: dorian is to a f!inquisitor what varric was to hawke

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #da2 hawke #varric tethras #dorian pavus #the inquisitor #i love dorian's romance as much as the next guy #but there's something that hits different about the dorian x f!inquisitor friendship

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theluckywizard · 5 months

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In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 62: Vertigo

Summary: Rose navigates the fall out of her handling of Crestwood's mayor, her intensifying liaison with Hawke, a surprise that comes from Skyhold and meets yet another legendary warrior.

Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke.

Excerpt below the cut 👇

When Hawke returns, he motions for me alone to follow. We walk silently together ducking protrusions and stalactites and shimming through narrow passages, the lightness of yesterday, the brightness between us cast in the shade of today’s revelations. The doorway we push through is marked with a whitewashed skull with a red streak across its eyes, the old smuggling ring’s stamp.

“It’s us,” he says. A man rises from a makeshift table covered in scribbled and crumpled notes, his features overtaken by the kind of beard one doesn’t choose to have. His armor is nondescript, his Warden credentials hidden away for safety’s sake.

Alistair Theirin.

Another legend.

Perhaps this time I can keep it together. He looks about my age, with dark blonde hair and a noble brow, but his overgrown beard and generally haggard appearance make him look worn beyond his years.

“Maker, man, you look like shit,” says Hawke with a grin.

“Cave chic,” he answers, yanking Hawke in for a firm handshake that quickly escalates into a bear hug. Alistair’s hazel eyes land on me next, nearly as bright and mischievous as Hawke’s and then jump to investigate my hands. At this point it feels like my blush is merely part of my uniform.

“You must be looking for this,” I say, holding up the anchor.

“Maker’s breath ,” he says. “I’ve always maintained there’s too much bizarre shit in the world.”

“That’s me. Bizarre shit,” I laugh. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Rose, Alistair. Alistair, Rose,” says Hawke. “We’re good with first names here, right?”

“Of course we are, Garrett ,” says Alistair pleasantly and I suppress my smile. He comes forward to shake my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. I wish it was someplace less— moldy. And you’ll have to forgive my looks. The combined effect of fugitive life, cave life and a missing wife is pretty potent. If I’d known you were coming I might have broken out the fancy soap.”

“I’m just happy we found you before the Wardens did,” I answer.

“As am I, my lady Inquisitor,” says Alistair.

“Well. Here we all are,” says Hawke. “I’m as eager as Rose is to hear what you have to say about the Wardens. I haven’t heard from Carver. Last letter I received was from the Anderfels. I asked Aveline to try and track him down to convince him to stay far from Orlais, but I’m assuming he told her to fuck right off.”

“As far as I know Carver is back in the Marches,” says Alistair, “But that was months ago. Who knows how far this nonsense has spread.”

“Then we can’t waste time,” says Hawke.

Read the rest here

Start the Fic Here

DAFF Crew Tag List

#Warden Alistair #Hawke x Inquisitor #Hawke x Trevelyan #Crestwood #Cullen x Trevelyan #in the shattering of things #Rose Trevelyan #Garrett Hawke #Cullenmance #Chekhov's Custom Birthday Present #Decisions Decisions #Suffering the Consequences of your Miscalculations #Being Inquisitor is Hard Yo #theluckywizard #Alistair Theirin #DAI Alistair

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macatt4c · 1 year

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A Dance to Remember

Ship: Garrett Hawke ("Default Hawke") x Inquisitor Ellana Mahariel (OC)

Rating: G

Tags: Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts, Dragon Age Spoilers, Slow Dancing, Fluff, One-Shot

Summary: After saving Empress Celene, Ellana takes a moment to herself to breathe.

A moment that is disturbed by a certain Champion of Kirkwall.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45439567

Empress Celene has been saved.

The sentence was a relief, to say the least. Since stepping into the winter palace, Inquisitor Ellana Mahariel was subjected to the best (and worst) of Orlesian nobility; from double-edged compliments to whispering servants, to even an assassin existing among them, she was more than done with the night and the court's machinations.

After exposing Grand Duchess Florianne as the would-be assassin and condemning Gaspard to death for his treasonous behavior, the court rejoiced over the civil war finally coming to an end and their empress safe and sound. The band resumed playing with a new gusto and the dance floor was quickly filled with nobles wishing to express their joy with waltzing. It was all so silly to Ellana (who lived in “barely civilized” parts of Thedas all her life, according to a certain Madame de Fer), but she didn’t have the energy to really care anymore. All she wanted was a moment of solitude where no Orlesians were bothering her with hollow praises and favor requests.

Ellana found this solitude on an empty balcony connected to the ballroom. The area was lit up by the bright light of the full moon ahead, allowing the Inquisitor to see clearly. Once she reached the railing she all but threw herself forward, finally taking some weight off her aching feet and relaxing her shoulders. She would certainly beg Josephine to get her some bath salts later, but for now, the balcony was a godsend. She was finally alone with her thoughts.

“Ahem.”

Or perhaps not.

Ellana turned her head to see a dark figure in her peripheral growing closer. It only took a few more steps for her to realize it was the Empress’s arcane advisor Morrigan approaching her. Morrigan was one of the most intriguing characters Ellana has met since she began working with the Inquisition. She was mysterious, beautiful, and her voice was enough to make Ellana’s heart race. Had Ellana not already been a spoken-for woman, she would surely spend her time secretly pining after the witch.

“Lady Morrigan.” Ellana greeted the woman with a polite smile and nod. “How wonderful it is to make your acquaintance again.”

Morrigan smirked at the elf’s greeting. “The Orlesian nobility make drunken toasts to your victory, and yet you are not present to hear them?” She asks, head tilting to the side curiously. “Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? ‘Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf.”

Ellana, who at one point would have defended her exhaustion and quickly rejoin the party, only chuckled lightly to herself. “I would have stayed, but the punch ran dry. Rather scandalous for an Orlesian affair, don’t you think?”

Morrigan laughed as she adjusted her gloves. “Indeed? Let us see if you take this piece of news as poorly.” This made Ellana frown in confusion. “By imperial decree,” Morrigan continued. “I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Celene wished to offer any and all aid- including mine. Congratulations.”

Ellana’s eyes widened. Celene was ordering Morrigan to join the Inquisition? This was the last thing she was expecting. While Ellana not only stopped Celene’s murder but also exposed Gaspard’s treason and reconciled her with Briala, she was only expecting verbal sworn loyalty to the organization and the manpower to stop Corypheus. But Morrigan? A trusted personal advisor? Celene must really believe in the Inquisition to do something like this.

“We will be lucky to have you, Morrigan,” Ellana responded, seeming more lively than she was moments prior.

“A most gracious response!” Morrigan said, sounding almost surprised before her tone returned to its originally reserved tone. “Very well. I shall see you at Skyhold, Lady Inquisitor.”

With a nod, the witch turned and exited the balcony. Ellana watched Morrigan pass the threshold back into the balcony just as a certain black-haired man appeared.

Josephine had been very against the idea of Garrett attending the masquerade with the Inquisition, but the Champion of Kirkwall was just as insistent. While he had never been to court, he knew that it was dangerous. He didn’t care how self-sufficient his lover was, he was going to be there at her side. “Corypheus is my responsibility” had been Garrett’s reasoning behind his joining, but it was starting to become more than that. Whispers through the barracks are implying that the Champion’s intentions are far more personal, and the idea of him and the Lady Inquisitor being more than allies at war was starting to become a favorite rumor throughout Skyhold.

If only they knew how right they were.

“Well, well,” Garrett hummed, crossing the balcony to Ellana’s side. “It would seem the powerful and beautiful Lady Inquisitor has come to save the day yet again.”

Ellana scoffed, shaking her head with a smile. “Aren’t my actions tonight enough to spare me from your teasing?”

“Teasing?” Garrett said in mock exasperation, pressing a hand to his chest. “My Lady Inquisitor! I was merely singing your praises like every other noble in the ballroom! How could you be so calloused?”

Ellana rolled her eyes. “I see. Please do forgive me then, dear Champion. I have tirelessly worked all night saving the Empress from an assassination that would have left this great nation vulnerable to the wicked Elder One.”

Garrett, pleased that his lover was playing along, continued. “Seeing that your effort not only saved the Empress but also her lady love, I shall relinquish my earlier objection. You see, I am deeply envious of you, Your Worship.”

Ellana raised an eyebrow. “Are you? Please, do tell.”

“Yes, it is true. I have saved a hundred people in Kirkwall from assassination plots and none of them- not a single one of them - celebrated my efforts the way you are being celebrated tonight! I do not believe it is fair, and I will not stand for it any longer!”

“Garrett,” Ellana spoke his name in a deadpan tone. “If you speak any louder, I’m sure the Empress can see you celebrated for all your efforts back in Kirkwall.”

The champion paused before relenting then and there with a sigh of defeat. “Fine, I give in. You are not in the mood for my theatrics.”

“Not tonight, no.” Ellana leaned onto the railing, putting her weight on the bent elbow resting there.

A silence settled over the two of them. It wasn’t the awkward silence of two strangers trying to make conversation, but the comfortable silence of two people basking in each other’s presence. The night had been full of anxiety, stress, fear, frustration, and exhaustion. Every two-faced compliment from the Orlesians was a strain on Ellana’s patience, and every disregard for the danger ahead made her want to scream. How could people be so aware of what is happening, but act so blind to it? Why must it all be seen as a game? What was the point? Some unfulfilling grasp for political power that can just as easily be taken from you? It was something Ellana would never understand.

“Hey,” The resurgence of Garrett’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “I know I jest about everything, but I really was worried about you tonight. When you slipped into the servant’s quarters without me… And then the Venatori in the gardens… I know you are very capable of defending yourself, but I can’t help but think that…”

Ellana’s eyes softened when she gazed upon Garrett. Sarcasm and jokes were just a mask to hide the vulnerable man he truly was. Life hadn’t been too kind to him (to either of them, really) and he had lost those closest to him in quick succession. There were moments when it seemed that Ellana and Varric were the only two he had left in this world. Garrett was deeply loyal to the woman he loved and his most loyal friend, going as far as to put his life on the line for them (as much as they beg him not to). It was that loyalty that makes Ellana’s heart ache. The last thing she wanted was for him to put himself in fatal danger in the name of blind loyalty to her, a thought that was rather hypocritical since she would turn around and do the same in an instant.

Ellana covered one of Garrett’s hands with her own, squeezing it. “I am alright, Vhenan . Just tired. The mission was a success. The Empress is saved. Corypheus will not take Orlais and has lost Florianne. We should be celebrating.”

Garrett gazed back at her, brown eyes searching her blue ones for any sign of falsehood in her words. All he could see was tired relief. He sighed through his nose before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her forehead, an act Ellana welcomed happily.

Their moment of close silence was interrupted by the sound of cheers and applause from the ballroom. Garrett glanced back toward the noise for a moment before suddenly pushing himself from the railing, causing Ellana to watch him curiously. After taking a couple of steps back, Garrett did something she wasn’t expecting: he extended his hand.

“Dance with me.”

Ellana blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” Garrett repeated. “Please, before the band stops.”

“Why?”

“You said it yourself. We should be celebrating. This is how I want to celebrate.”

Ellana stared at Garrett with his hand still extended toward her for a few more moments before finally pushing herself from the railing and taking his hand with a soft smile.

“It’s been a long time since we last danced.” She mused, placing her opposite hand on Garrett’s shoulder as he places a secure hand on her lower back.

“And I assure you, when this is all over,” Garrett pauses before lightly pressing his hand into Ellana’s back to begin their waltz. “We will dance some more.”

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