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hadiden-lavellan · 7 years

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Fuck tumblr I had to redo this like eight times. But here's some fluffy goodness between tired, retired Wardens sharing their days in Antiva, avoiding the Breach. Shout out to @stumblingsbalderdash because it's Amarth and Daylen. Also, it has Amarth's gift to Daylen ;3

Enjoy!

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Amarth’s bare feet padded across the stone flooring, making his way outside onto the balcony. The warm Antivan afternoon surrounded him, causing goosebumps to prickle his skin. The elf rubbed his arms, trying to rid himself of the bumps, but stood no chance. He had to wait until he warmed up with the warm afternoon of Antiva. A smile appeared on his face as he joined his human lover at the balcony railing. Daylen was leaning against it, looking as though he was studying the city below. Amarth knew he wasn't; he was probably warming himself with the sun, listening to the bustle of the people down below. The elf knew his lover couldn't see the people running a muck in the streets, but knew he liked listening to them. Amarth walked up beside him, first placing an arm against Daylen’s bare arm. Since journeying to Antiva, the two have had to update their attire. Amarth wears loose, silken shirts, sometimes even showing his bare arms. He also wears loose and low hanging pants. It was comfortable. Daylen wore similar clothes, sometimes stealing Amarth’s clothes since Amarth bought pieces that were bigger than his size. But one a few, rare occasions, Daylen wouldn't wear a shirt. And Maker be blessed, Amarth savored those days. When Daylen relaxed, Amarth stepped within Daylen’s personal space. The elf leaned against the human, smiling when he wrapped an arm around Amarth’s waist. “You're cold,” Daylen said, pointing out the obvious. Amarth just smiled and closed his eyes, focusing on Daylen’s warm and solid form. “Mmmn… I know,” Amarth said. The elf hummed as Daylen pressed his nose to his hair, placing a kiss on Amarth’s head. “I was inside. It's much colder indoors.”

There was a moment of silence. Amarth took that moment to open his eyes, looking into the distance. He knew Daylen couldn't see, didn't know, but if he looked hard enough, he could see the faint tint of what was happening in the south. Something was wrong, something big. It wasn't a Blight, Amarth would know if it was. Soon he would have to be leaving Antiva to chase a promise so that he wouldn't hear the Blight again, but that would be in a few more years. But whatever was happening in the south, whatever had destroyed the Conclave and threw the Chantry and mages into a war, it wasn't Amarth’s problem to fix. No, his time to fix things was ten years ago. He was retired, living his remaining years in paradise with his lover. After a few minutes passed, Amarth stood straight. Daylen’s hand fell, allowing Amarth space to move. The elf turned his body fully towards Daylen, who was half turned towards Amarth. The elf smiled and ran his knuckles over Daylen’s cheek before brushing hair behind the human’s ear. There was about a million things Amarth wanted to tell him in that moment: how beautiful he was, how lucky he was to have Daylen, how he couldn't imagine a life without him. He wanted to tell Daylen he was so happy to be alive with him, that they both were able to survive their trials and to come back together. He wanted to say he loved him. But it wasn't the right time yet. “Something on your mind, Amarth?” Daylen asked, leaning into Amarth’s gentle touch. Amarth smiled at the reaction. He was so sweet.

“I actually got you a gift,” Amarth said. “I know you won't be able to see it, but I can tell you what it looks like.” “What is it?” Daylen asked, now fully turned to Amarth. The elf dug into his pocket and pulled out a tired cloth. Slowly, he untied the string and opened the cloth in his palm, picking up the metal with his fingers. Amarth then took Daylen’s left hand, kissing his knuckles before he slipped a silver ban onto his ring finger. Daylen made a face, looking like he couldn't name something he was smelling. Amarth huffed out a laugh. “It's silver, clean and I can see my reflection in it. There's two stones; a green one and a purple one. I was told the green one was an emerald and the purple one was an amethyst. Around the ban is elvish.” Amarth paused a moment. “I had to ask for the translation, but it says arlath’ma, ara’len. It's supposed to mean I love you, my husband, but I'm not very good with elvish to know if it's right. It sounds right.” Amarth held Daylen’s ringed hand, watching his face. He watched as his features showed confusion then his cheeks turning red. The man blinked, looking down at his hand and then to where Amarth’s face was. Then again down at his hand. “Amarth?” Daylen asked. A simple hm? was all that Amarth gave; an acknowledgement. “Amarth, is this…” Daylen stuttered, trying to piece together his thoughts. Amarth hadn't seen him flustered since the first time the elf kissed the human. “Are you proposing?” Daylen finally managed. Amarth couldn't help his smile or the heat rising in his cheeks. “More like a promise,” Amarth said. “We’re already together, but I wanted a visible symbol of our commitment to each other. This is just my way of saying I'll be with you until the day the Maker takes me back to his side.” There was a pause. “It's a symbol of my love for you.”

Amarth felt like a lovesick teenager as he professed to Daylen. To be honest, he had been meaning to give the ring to the other for a month now but hadn't found the right moment. Now wasn't exactly how he imagined it, but it was better than never. And to see how surprised and flustered Daylen was, it was more than perfect now. The human was smiling before hugging Amarth, pulling away only to pull the elf into a kiss. Amarth kissed his lover in earnest, holding Daylen’s face in his hands gently. Amarth was straining on his tiptoes and had to break their kiss so that he didn't fall. He looked at Daylen, smiling. The human was smiling back at him. Amarth couldn't help the swelling, warm feeling in his chest. Finally, things were working out for him. No more pain, no more misery. He was no longer chained, bond to a lifestyle that drained him of who he was. He was free to be who he wanted, be with the man he wanted. He was himself. “I love you Daylen,” Amarth said, fully and honestly. He would scream it so the Maker could hear him if Daylen asked him to. He wasn't ashamed to say the words anymore, no longer afraid that those three words would hurt his lover. “And I love you, Amarth,” Daylen said. “Always."

#holy fuck tumblr #why did it keep trying to delete this #I had to copy and paste this like eight times #in small bits #wtf #but here we are #something sweet and fluffy for Daylen and Amarth #I love these babiy boys #daylen amell #Amarth mahariel #dragon age origins #fanfic #stumbles oc #look they're great I love them #Daylen x Amarth

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stumblingsbalderdash · 7 years

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Werewolf Crap: Daylen/ Amarth

He could hear Daylen growl followed by a startling shove against one the thick sycamores. “Forgive me, Amarth but -- listening to you moan my name at night is driving me to the brink of insanity.” Daylen growled in elf tapered ear, before nipping at its shell. “Tell me now-- can I touch you?” He demanded hotly against Amarth’s ear.

A special thank you @writingfromdaughterofathena for letting me steal Amarth :D

“What do you mean--disappeared!?” Amarth screeched at the uneasy human standing before him. His scream echoed loudly through the Dalish camp causing it’s occupants to stop and stare.

“I mean-- he’s pretty sneaky--” Alistair whined, creating a comfortable distance between him and the elf. The warrior shifted uncomfortably as his pink cheeks darkened watching Amarth’s brows furrow.

“Sneaky?!” The elf shouted, “He’s blind-- what if--what if a werewolf has him!” Amarth sputtered throwing his arms up, exasperated with his friend.

Biting down on his chewed fingernails, Amarth paced, continuing his anxiety filled rant, “ Marker’s balls Alistair-- I don’t know what I do if he--” He abruptly stopped consciously aware he divulged his secret. He prayed the warrior hadn't caught onto it. Thankfully, Amarth’s slip was lost on Alistair who was still watching his fellow warden pace.

“Err- Sereda will have my ears for this--I promised her and Joan I’d keep him safe--while they patrolled!” Amarth suddenly felt dizzy , his chest grew tight, he needed to sit. Amarth felt his eyes start to burn, looking up at his fellow warden burying his fingers in his chestnut hair. “Have you seen the dwarf! --- 10 years of military practice!” His voice pitched as his thoughts spun into a crazed turmoil.

He had only been away for a few moments, just long enough to speak to Lanaya about Zathrian’s downfall. Amarth watched the new keeper’s face twit with sorrow, betrayal and anxiety as he explained the werewolves curse to her. He waited a moment and listened intently to her distress.

After a few moments and kind words, Lanaya resolved strengthened. She reached up, hope shining through her swollen eyes, and patted him softly on the check. He flinched away from the unwelcome touch and took a polite step back.

“One of these day, Amarth. You'll find yourself.” She hummed handing him a book of Dalish lullabies. A parting or thank you gift, he was unsure. He stared at the book, unsure what to do with it-- he didn't desire it--he was no longer dalish.

Perhaps, Daylen may enjoy the book--well, Amarth could read him the book. He smiled to himself, excited at the prospect of spending more time with human. Watching man’s soft amethyst eyes focus on only him or the hearing the mage’s beautiful baritone laughter.

However, Amarth dropped the leather bound book to the the dusty forest ground and fearfully stared up at Alistair. Daylen was gone.

He refused to look away, even as his lips trembled and his shoulders started to heave with emotion, unwilling to back down. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears; his hands clenched into shaking fists, As he struggled with a desperate battle against grief.The lone tear traced down his cheek felt hot, stinging his chapped lips. Amarth dug his fingers into his palms watching the ground dampen from the fat salty tears.

He jumped feeling a light tap on his shoulder. Amarth glanced over at a strange hunter, carefully he rubbed his eyes, “ what do you want?!” He accidentally barked at the stranger.

The hunter flinched away from the elven warden. Carefully, the elf scratched his auburn hair glancing away from Amarth. “The shemlen, right?” The hunter shifted uncomfortably appearing timid and shy.

‘Shemlen’, Amarth heart heart flutter with hope. He stood with haste, grabbing on the hunter’s shoulder, “ yes-tall man, dark hair.” Amarth shook the man, feeling butterflies rustle in his stomach.

“His went towards the waterfalls--he looked angry-so I stayed away. “ the hunter flushed and quickly retreated from the warden.

“Thank the --- no, that's just his face” Without a second thought, Amarth ran through the knurled woods, dodging fallen logs and dalish traps. He panicked, afraid Daylen may have fallen into one.

He hurried along the rushing brook, that fell over little cascades in its haste, not looking at the primroses that glimmered all along its banks. He could hear the loud roar of the falls crashing into the jagged rocks just ahead. He prayed, to whatever omniscience being that would listen, that Daylen would be safe.

He stopped short of the waterfalls edge resting against an ancient tree truck. He felt the warm sense of relief wash over him, the mage stood a few feet away.

It took a moment before, Amarth realized the man was naked-- scrubbing his hair under the cool falls. Amarth felt his throat tighten as Daylen dunk his head under water then come up for air, tossing his thick mane over his shoulder.

Daylen has slim, muscular frame the matched an almost perfectly symmetrical face. Amarth swallowed watching the water trickle down the man’s chiseled chest, over his dusty nipples and down his taut abdomen before disappearing into his well groomed treasure trail.

Amarth felt like he had swallowed a ball of cotton, blood rushed from his head and other parts of his body. He knew he should turn from the man-- but he couldn't will himself. He felt an uncomfortable throb against his leather breeches.

“I can hear you thinking, Amarth ,” Daylen chuckled in his usual his gruff tone. “Or at least your feet moving.” He turned towards the concealed elf and smirking.

“You!” The elf started angrily, “wandered off--I was worried” Amarth stepped from the shadows, cheeks flushed as he tugged at his ear. Thankful the mage's couldn't see his redden cheeks. He quickly averted his eyes from the mage’s nude form. “ what if a werewolf--”

“Werewolf crap, is precisely why I’m here.” Daylen chuckled walking to the edge of the cool pristine water. “ I needed the get it out of my hair-”

The mage stopped, hearing a muffled sobbed coming from the shoreline. “Amarth?” Daylen reached out desperately trying to find the elf. Daylen felt his panic rise as the elf let out another desperate sob. In haste to reach Amarth, Daylen lost his footing stumbling to the rocky ground with loud thud.

He could hear a sharp gasp come the elf as he hit the ground. Amarth feet shuffled quickly to the fallen man, “ shit Daylen-- are you ok?!” The elf brushed his delicate fingers over the mage’s face. Daylen’s brows furrowed in it’s usual rancorous scowl, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but appeared uninjured.

The mage’s reached to stroked the elf’s slender face. He chuckled, trying to save some dignity, “admit it Amarth, you've always wanted me on my knees.” He crawled forward pressing his lips against other man’s.

Amarth face grew hot, more and more his dreams had been about the mage. The different ways he could---he shook his head, pressing his lips against the humans.

Amarth felt himself harden by the aggression. He never heard Daylen growl in their night time fumbles. He was always unassuming and allowed Amarth to take charge. This aggression was new and oddly arousing.

“Yes--damn it, touch me!” The elf whispered, grabbing hold of Daylen’s dark mane smashing their lips together. He pulled back whispering in the mage’s ear, “ but promise you'll never leave again-- without telling me.” He pressing his lips to the humans.

Daylen undid the lacing Amarth’s soft leather breeches and moved to slide them down and off his body. He almost got distracted when he could feel the heat of Amarth’s cock brush against his face.

He stroked Amarth’s cock lazily, downward and then when he reached the base he took his hand away, only to start again at the tip. “Amarth.” He took his hand away entirely, enjoying the sounds Amarth whimpering .

“Never again.” Daylen promised gripping the elf’s warm shaft at the base with a tight hold.

“No, never again,” Amarth whimpered tangling his hands in the human’s soft hair.

“Am I forgiven Warden Commander” Daylen let out a husky purr before he took the elf in his mouth. letting his tongue ring run down Amarth’s flushed cock, enjoying the taste him.

“Yes--- please, just don’t stop.” Amarth returned his hands to Daylen’s hair. He didn’t guide Daylen’s mouth but tugging at his hair helped the man understand what he liked. Daylen’s mouth made him wonder why he had waited so long.

“Fuck, Daylen---your mouth--,” he hissed through his teeth bucking his lithe hips. Daylen tickled Amarth’s thigh, brushing his fingers across the elf’s soft flesh. His fingers crept higher and higher until they danced just outside the elf’s puckered entrance. He stopped short, pausing his ministrations, peering up the rogue.

Amarth noticed his hesitation and he blushed. He reached in his leather pouch and produced a small clear bottle pressing it into Daylen’s large hand. “I, uh, hid it there just in case.”

“--prepared much? ,” Daylen asked with a crooked smile. Amarth flushed and squirmed before Daylen tugged him closer. The mage worked a small amount of the lubricant out of the bottle and used the tip of his finger to massage around his hole.

Daylen couldn’t remember being more content. His lover throbbing in his mouth ,his fingers buried inside him, listening the elf incoherently. Amarth moaned and jerked against the human’s hand, sliding Daylen’s finger all the way in.

“Oh, yes, please,” he begged. Daylen fucked his lover with his finger, then when Amarth felt stretched enough he added another one. He was rewarded by a burst of Amarth’s flavor, salty and earthy, full of life. As the elf bucked up and screamed in pleasure.

He hastened the pace of his bobbing head, loving the sensual squeaking that flooded his ears. When he heard the moans reach their peak he crooked his finger in a come hither motion, brushing against Amarth’s spot as his mouth tighten around the elf's cock.

Instantly, salty spurts splashed Daylen’s tongue. He sucked it down, keeping up the massage until he sucked the very last drop. He took his fingers out listening to Amarth whine at the loss. He could heard Amarth breath steady just before the elf fell forward into Daylen’s arm.

He chuckled kissing Amarth head letting him sleep. Daylen’s cock ached uncomfortably, but it didn’t matter. Now and always, Amarth would always come first.

#mywriting #amarth mahariel #Daylen Amell #daylen x amarth #writingfromthedaughterofathena #i hope you like #XD #I'll edit the rest later

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hadiden-lavellan · 7 years

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Prompt: Daylen/ Amarth “Oh my God! You love him/her.”

“Maker, Amarth, you’re in love with him,” Alistair said. The elf’s eyes widened as he grabbed his pillow and threw it at the other Warden.

“Maker, don’t say that Alistair!” Amarth said, bringing his knees to his chest and looking at the fire. They were in a comfy enough room in Bhelen’s palace. Actually, it was Amarth and Daylen’s room, but Wynne had Daylen to run some errands. It gave Amarth a minute to talk with Alistair alone. Which the elf kind of regretted since Alistair was saying such absurd things. Love. What in the Maker’s name was love? Besides dangerous.

“Amarth,” Alistair said, moving to sit in front of the elf on the bed. Amarth placed his chin on his knees and looked away, pouting. He was being a child. “Amarth, listen,” Alistair said, sighing. “You’ve told me what happened in the past, but you can’t honestly believe it’ll happen again, can you?”

The elf nodded.

“From the way you talked about him, what you did all those years, that doesn’t sound like a healthy relationship,” Alistair pointed out. “You caused yourself so much pain for another man who really didn’t return the feelings until… well, he really didn’t return it. Now you have a man that’s returning the feelings and you’re shutting him out.”

Amarth bit the inside of his cheek before saying, “I don’t want something to happen to him. I can’t be watching him all the time and it worries me. I didn’t want to make him a Warden, that damn Templar threatening to take him away pushed my decision. I didn’t want to bring him down here, down to the Deep Roads, but he didn’t want to have me go without him. But I… Alistair, I don’t know what to do.” There was a pause. “If I do… love him… what am I supposed to do?”

“Talk,” Alistair said plainly. “You talk with him, share your feelings like right now. That’s something you’ve never been good at.”

“What?”

“Sharing your feelings, Amarth. Your pretty shit at telling someone how you feel.” Alistair laughed. “Like with me, you wanted to tell me that you trusted me and all you said was ‘I hate you the least.’” Amarth huffed a laugh, remembering that moment. It was during Ostagar and Alistair and him had just defeated the Ogre. It was kind of funny at that time. It was funnier now.

Amarth didn’t say anything so Alistair added, “you just sat here for the past two hours talking about him. You gave me more knowledge about Daylen than I ever hoped to know. His favorite color, what animal he can turn into, how soft his bat ears are, why he has all those markings on his wrists, that weird tattoo thing on his arm, why the Templars wanted him. I didn’t need to know most of that. I’m just glad you didn’t share intimate details.” Alistair blushed. What a child. “But how you talked about him, how your eyes lite up and you were smiling. I’m pretty sure that’s what you call love.”

The elf didn’t say anything for a moment. Alistair might have been right, but what was he going to do?

There was a knock at the door. Alistair got up to open the door and both men were surprised to see Daylen. The mage just stood there a moment before coming into the room. Amarth wanted to shove Alistair out and to scoop up Daylen and hold him. Maker he was hopeless. However, Alistair did excuse himself and gave Amarth a look. The elf knew what he was trying to convey and sighed. Damn him.

It wasn’t long before Amarth was practically jumping off the bed and walking towards Daylen, cupping his face as he kissed him. Maybe it was love, maybe Amarth would tell Daylen as he kissed him, or maybe after the night he would profess his feelings for the other man. Right now, Amarth wanted him in bed so he could ravish him.

#daylen amell #Amarth mahariel #Amarth x Daylen #dragon age #dragon age origins #stumbles oc #I love these two and Amarth is so awkward #how does he romance #he doesn't #my precious child

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stumblingsbalderdash · 7 years

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Lonely Mountains

A special thank you to @writingfromdaughterofathena for letting my write about Amarth <3 He’s so percious and I adore him! Thank you. :D

Night had fallen across the frozen Frostback mountains, concealing the warm setting sun from the small dilapidated camp. In less than an hour’s time, the sky’s once beautiful streaks of reds, oranges and pinks faded into a matt black canvas dotted with shining silver stars. The thick darkness seemed eternally ethereal and everlasting. Even the soft glow of the camp’s fire only allowed him to see an arm’s reach in front of himself.

Despite the others huddled in their darkened tents, Amarth felt solitary amongst the frigid unapproachable mountains. Only he and the mountains seemed to exist bearing against the chilly wind’s bite that could be felt through the thickest woolen blanket.

The hairs on his arms raised as the sharp sting of the wind caused small bumps that tingled uncomfortably and the bite seemed beyond flesh.His blood ran cold, his bones ached uncomfortably from the icy chill causing him to toss bedroll. Amarth curled tightly trying to preserve his heat, shivering in his own tattered darkened tent.

He promptly tucked the tips of his exposed toes under the rough blankets and shivered violently as the last stinging wind blasted his tent. Amarth yearned to join one of his travel companions; spooning against their back, greedily stealing their natural warmth. However, they had been joined by an odd group of worn wardens now sharing the other’s temporary lodgings. The only members of his ragtag group with available space was Wynne or Sten.

He tossed with an uncertain trepidation about the strange newcomers. His fingers nervously twitched as he had watched their new warden companions excitedly gossip with the others at dinner- with the exception of one, the mage. The human made Amarth’s stomach flutter with an anxious suspense.

A fearful suspense: inspired by a nervousness conditioned from years of bitter torment at the hands of a sadistic mage. It stood idly under his skin waiting to burst out from under his fragile control. The racking of memories, crowded his mind and made his heart beat violently and breathing become hard. He felt a desperate to need to keep a vigil eye on the mage.

The man under scrutiny was clad in a traditional warden armor adorned with rich leather gloves, tight black breeches, and tall dark boots. His aged notched stave was shorter than the advantage mage’s and appeared comparable to an old man’s walking stick, than a defensive weapon. Amarth briefly pondered the mage’s odd stave and lack of a grimoire.

His conversations with Wynne had made him knowledgeable in battle magic and defense; he knew a worthy mage carried a grimoire. He clenched down on his teeth, remembering his former master’s cheaply bound grimoire and the sharp painful swats he received for getting to close to it. The irksome thing contained the old bastard's magical sigils and incantations, without it-- Amarth shook his head interrupting his miserable reverie, turning his attention back to his current magical problem.

The mage’s towering figure stood apart from the rest of the group, until Wynne called him by name. Momentary, the man’s expression soften as he headed in her direction, stopping just short of the elder woman. A warm smile bloomed across her wrinkled face as she reached up patting his, in a motherly fashion. They appeared to know each other. Tilting his head, Amarth wondered if they had meet in Ferelden’s spire. He continued to cautiously watch as Wynne’s lips move as she spoke to the man but had trouble understanding conversation.

Nervously, he tugged at his pointed ear watching the mage’s face fall back into it’s rancorous scowl as he shook his head. Wynne’s smile harden into a stern line before she reached out to stroke his cheek again. Turning, as if to avoid the crowd, the mage slinked back into the dark recesses of the shadows, leaving Wynne to shake her head in disapproval.

Whether it was curiosity or the need to watch the human, Amarth realized the closer he observed the mage, the more he could appreciate the human’s well formed face. His rich raven hair was tousled griminess which whispered promises of finesse. The mage had strong angrily arched brows and dark, thick eyelashes that framed his strangely colored eyes . They were deep and tragic, a clouded iridescent expanse of lavender that softly melted into a deeper royal hue.

He had high distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw that was adored with a dark soul patch right below his full bottom lip. His contrasting pale skin made him look devilishly handsome, if it weren’t for the bitter expression he continuously worn. When their eyes would locked Amarth felt queasy, he had seen few that bore such an intense anger.

The mage’s eyes had a deadness, a stillness. As if the man never knew laughter or one who had developed an undeterred hardness. It was as if Armath could read all the human’s anger in his extended glare and forgiveness wasn't an option. For a brief moment, he felt a juxtapositioned feeling of fear and pity for the creature yards away from him. Or perhaps, Amarth simply understood the broiling rage under a ill disgusted placidity.

Between the human’s towering form and angered expression- Amarth was on edge. It caused him to bite down on his plump bottom lip, fidget with his chestnut hair or find interest in his uniform’s buckles avoiding the mage’s haunted eyes.

The wind blasted his tent again, snapping Amarth out of his sluggish stupor. He tugged the itchy blanket close to his head trying to protect his long tapered ears. They burned from the frigid air. He tried rub the blanket against his ears hoping to relieve the cold burn. Finally, he sighed pushing himself from the hard ground; too cold to care about the strangers in camp. Amarth, needed someone to curl up with.

He stood up,wrapping his petite frame in his heavy blanket. Haphazardly tossed on his brown leather boot without care enough to tie them and headed towards Wynne’s tent. It was better than Sten; the qunari would not appreciate unsolicited guest in his bedroll.

Amarth dashed through the snow, to the woman’s tent and with great care untied the flap’s latches before slipping into the darkened sleeping area. He tried to keep the opening as small as possible to keep out the cold air.

As soon as he tied the latches closed, Amarth could feel tepid temperature of the tent brush against his cheeks. Wynne’s smaller tent felt slightly warmer than his own and seemed to have an abundance of blankets spread across the hard ground. He felt giddy as he made out her sleeping form in the darkness. Finally, he could curl up against someone warm and sleep without fear of hypothermia. He felt the bitter chill on his toes as he removed his boots inching closer to the mage.

Carefully, he lifted her surprisingly heavy arm and slid gracefully under, his back to her chest. He paused for a moment wondering why Wynne’s chest was harder than he thought. He quickly disregarded his thoughts settling on contentment he felt burrowed into the human’s molten heat. Pushing his tattooed cheek into the warmth, he smiled and drifted into pleasant sleep.

****

Daylen could hear the snow crunch outside of Wynne’s tent because of a faint footfall. By the weight, he could tell it someone smaller than his own stature and closed on the tent at a rapid pace. Whom or whatever it was, favored their left foot- perhaps an old injury. He couldn’t tell quite tell because the wind muffled the noise, but with each clumsy step he felt anxiety build. Daylen stilled himself waiting for the stranger to make their intent known. He slid his hand behind him, pulling out the small dwarven blade his Commander had gifted him and slide it under his threadbare pillow.

Daylen’s hypersensitive hearing had saved their platoon on several occasions, including the darkspawn invasion. They had been scouting outside in the Wilds, when the main horde struck Calian’s forces, obliterating Ferelden’s military. He could still hear the horrifying screams, smell of sickness and the clash of metals as the King’s army crumbled. Daylen’s terrible recollection ceased as the shuffling became louder and more frantic as the stranger reached the tent’s flaps.

The intruder entered Wynne and his tent; they shifted nervously as they clumsily tied the flaps together, trying to keep the icy wind out. Daylen could hear them slink around his own body; pausing long enough to toss their heavy shoes aside. He furrowed his brows and pondered whether he should strike at creature, clutching his dagger in his hand, he needed to keep Wynne safe.

Suddenly, Daylen felt an icy hand wrap around his heavily scarred wrist lifting up away from his body. He flinched uncomfortably as their delicate fingers lightly dug into his largest scar marring his left wrist. Out of instinct, his eyes snapped open as the fabric of his bedroll shifted under the stranger’s lighter weight. They pressed their lithe back into Daylen’s hard chest.

The smaller being pressed further into his cloth covered chest and mewled with satisfaction. There was a delicious moment where Daylen’s face washed blank with confusion; his mind couldn't process fast enough to take in the what had happened. Every muscle of his body just froze before a nervous panic set in; he’d never been touched in such intimate manner.

He was horrendous and few people showed him affection. He felt a pulse of hot anger rush through believing this was a cruel prank. He wrapped his muscular arm around the other’s tapered waist, pulling them closer to his own body, desperate to figure who it was. He could usually tell by scent, voice or touch but his circumstances did not afford him the luxury.

Covertly, lowered his nose to scent the stranger but was interrupted with a soft sharp jab to the eye. Daylen blinked rapidly as his eye watered ; he reached out to feel a soft chilled ear. He ran his fingers carefully along the shell of the tapered ear, feeling the intruder unconsciously shift and push further into his warmer palm. Who ever it was he could tell the stranger was of Dalish origins. Unlike a city or hybrid elf’s ear, the Dalish’s ears were more exaggerated, sharper and flexible.

The only elf he come into contact with was the antivan who carried the scent of fine whiskey and leather. The intruder’s natural scent bombarded Daylen’s senses with a savory earthy smell of cool rain, tang of the elfroot and a slight undertone of masculine musk. It was calming, copacetic, and addictive. And definitely not Antivan.

The elf shivered violently again as the wind strengthened against their tent. Panicked, Daylen pressed his hand to the elf’s cool smooth forehead. The elf’s muscles shook uncontrollably for a few minutes while his body made a last ditch attempt to reheat before it conceded to bitterness.

Daylen scrambled, pulling the elf closer to his body; convinced the other had developed the beginning stages hypothermia. The elf must’ve been delirious, it was the only explanation for his odd behavior and why he'd curl next the mage. Gently holding the elf's head, he sat up pulling off his own thick cotton socks and pulled them over the elf's small feet. Grabbing the elf’s blanket, Daylen tucked the blanket tightly around the stranger’s thin cotton covered legs like a cocoon ensuring his feet stayed warm.

The elf squirmed, adjusting himself against Daylen. The mage prayed the elf would wake up, but the creature went limp. Daylen sighed, reminisced his healing tutelage desperate to remember his next course of action. He removed his own crudely stitched shirt and carefully place over the elf's baggy shirt and softly he ran his hand over elf’s face.

The elf’s face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He’s eyebrows sloped downwards in a serious expression furrow right above his nose. His narrow nose sloped gracefully above his full lips. His lips seemed to be drawn into a hard line across his face but managed to still be perfect and soft. He ran a callused thumb from the elf’s lips to his elongated ear. It was still frigid, Daylen wrapped a second blanket around them reached out to warm the ear with his palm.

Using his fingers and palm rubbed the elf’s ears hoping to warm them and ease the elf's discomfort. Daylen's brows furrowed, lying back he tugged the creature towards his chest flattening his hand against the elf’s smaller cloth cover chest. The mage released a small amount of pulsing healing magic into the other’s body while working his other hand around the elf’s cold ear.

The stranger groaned and started to shift against the healer. Daylen sighed in relief, at the least the intruder hadn't fallen too far in the throws of hypothermia. He tightened his grip on elf pulling him closer to his body heat. Daylen rested the elf's head on the nook of his shoulder, continued to gently release small pulses of heat into elf’s chest.

Daylen felt the other shift against him and heard the elf intake sharply before a sharp pain bloomed across his face, causing his nose to spew warm blood.

The elf stuck him across the face and ripped away from his grasp. Daylen clutched his bleeding nose as hot angry broiled under his skin. Snarling, he felt his control slip releasing a small burst of magical energy.

****

Slowly, Amarth consciousness began to emerge from his sluggish dreams. A pleasant heat made his thoughts sticky and hard to gather cohesively. The rough and gentle strokes at the shell of his ear made him instinctively push into the warmth enjoying the tingling sensation running through his body.

Every muscle seemed to welcome the warmth like an old friend. It was strange, pulsing heat he had never felt before. The air around him was heavy with the subtle aroma of wild woods and other unfamiliar earthy tones, reminding him of a sprawling autumn forest.

He slowly opened his eyes, as the second pulse of heat hummed through his chest. It took a few seconds before it dawn on Amarth, he was not in the warm woods but on a frigid desolate mountain. The pulsing heat was not the bright sun, but from a heavy human hand latched to his chest. Instinctively, he reared his elbow back ramming into the owner of hand’s face , he heard a painful gasp and the hand loosened from his shirt. He rushed forward, tumbling over the tightly wound blankets around his feet. With a heavy thud, Amarth was sent sprawling across the plethora of blankets and cold ground staring at a very angry mage--now with a broken nose.

The hair on the back of neck rose, as the half naked mage clutched at his bloody nose growling like a wounded animal. His dark loose hair fell round his face and muscular shoulder before he glared back at the elf and enraged, releasing magical pulse.

Amarth scrambled further from the angered mage planning a shift escape before the other cleared his throat, “ Why in Andrastate tit’s did you do that!?”

Amarth felt his face flush with indignance but before he could speak and soft yet stern voice stole their attention. “Perhaps it because, Daylen, you molested the poor dear.” Wynne lifted her from her spot across from the other mage. “ Maker’s sake Daylen, what were you thinking, if at all?” She paused, stretching her arms above head and yawned loudly.

Amarth huffed, stared at the younger mage crossing his arms. The mage’s horrid glare morphed into expression that mimicked a fish. Wynne stood, shaking her rumpled night gown and crouched in front Daylen. She place her hand on his nose and emitted a soft healing magic.

“Remember, we covered this in ‘The Races of Thedas’ and anatomy studies.” She lectured the mage, clasping his nose tightly. “An elf’s ears are an erogenous zone--or were you not paying attention?” She continued her lecture, the mage’s down trodden face invoked a giggle from Amarth. The towering man looked like a small child being punished by his mother. She raised an fine eyebrow before clearing her throat again, “Well ?”

She pulled her wrinkled hand from the mage’s face, his brows furrowed and then softened. He stared at his large hands for moment before incoherently mumbling something.

Wynne stood, crossed her arms and tapped her foot, “The warden can’t hear you, Daylen.” She stated in a stern voice staring down at the flushed pouting mage.

The man’s eye widened and glanced in Amarth’s direction ungracefully fumbled with his words, “ Warden?-- I’m sorry… didn’t mean to--” He blushed glancing back down, clenching his fist, biting nervously at his bottom lips. “I--didn’t know...I-- hypothermia.” He stuttered over his words.

Amarth tilted his head nervously tugged on his ear, how did the human not know he was a warden or about elves’ ears.

“ How did you not know?” His curiosity getting the better of him. The human’s face flushed brighter as nervously picked at his blanket.

Wynne sighed, glancing over at Amarth, “ Daylen has never had a friend, let alone any kind of relationship” she paused staring at the even further flustered mage “it's that terrible face he makes” she shook her head and glanced back the elf “--I’m sure it was ignorance, Warden.”

She smiled at Amarth and scooped up an extra blanket, handing it to him carefully. Amarth watched the flustered mage on the ground feeling a small amount of pity for the man. He removed the human’s shirt, handing to the man and laid the blanket down aways from the man. “It's--ok just don't do it again.” He prepped a new bedroll watching the lonely man shake his head. He finished rolling out his bed and paused glancing back the man’s muscular back, “Sorry about your nose.”

Daylen’s back stiffened before he turned to acknowledge the elf, his cheeks flushed before whispered in a husky voice, “It’s ok, think I earned it.”

#mywriting #amarth x daylen #daylen amell #amarth mahariel #writingfromdaughterofathena oc #thank you #i hope you like it #<3 #love amarth

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hadiden-lavellan · 7 years

Text

I got time. I wrote. I borrowed Daylen Amell from @stumblingsbalderdash for my boy Amarth So here's something sAD

"I hate dwarven politics," Amarth said, stretching his arms over his head. A ways ahead, down the mountains, half of his party was set up. The rest of them, Alistair, Zevran, and Daylen, were leaving Orzammar after crowning Bhelen king. Honestly, Amarth hated them both. He just wanted the support of one of them for his troops. Unfortunately, after getting his troops, Amarth was forced out of the warmth of the dwarven city and meet back with the bitter cold of the Frostback Mountains. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could find his way into Daylen's tent and steal the human's warmth. Daylen wouldn't mind.

Their relationship had improved some. Okay, not just some, but quite a bit. Amarth was afraid to lose Daylen when they traveled down the deep roads, not sure if a darkspawn would drag him off or not. He practically held the human's hand. There was a draw, a pull, that Amarth felt towards him. After seeing him in the tower, half transformed and suffering like a dying dog, Amarth wanted to see him blossom into a healthy man again. He was getting better, much better after their first night when Amarth was freezing and wandered into his tent. The two of them stayed very close while in the deep roads, joined at the hip almost. Amarth was glad when Bhelen allowed them rooms after crowning him king. Amarth took it in a heartbeat and invited Daylen to join him in his room. The elf had gotten the chance to braid Daylen's hair, and he may have confessed to developing feelings for the human. It was hard, confessing. The last time he confessed, Tamlen died.

"This is why the Wardens aren't supposed to be involved with politics," Alistair said. Amarth sighed.

"Says the bastard prince that may take the throne," Amarth retorted. Zevran huffed a laugh and Alistair complained. Daylen said nothing, but Amarth didn't expect him to. He didn't say much unless Wynne or his two Warden friends were with the group. Other than that, he was quiet. Not that Amarth minded, he was quiet himself, but it was just odd. He liked when Daylen spoke to him in private. It was wonderful to hear his voice, to hear him gasping out his name. Okay, maybe his thoughts were getting ahead of him, but Amarth did like hearing Daylen's voice.

"Since we're finally out of there, I would like to set up camp and discuss our movements," Amarth said. "And I want to get a head count and check for injuries."

"And what about food?" Alistair asked. Zevran laughed.

"I do believe that our favorite mother mage will have supper prepared for us," Zevran said. Amarth nodded.

"She probably will."

Daylen didn't say anything. Amarth looked back at him to see him walking with his staff. He was only a few paces behind Amarth, keeping close to the group so he didn't get lost. Amarth wanted to smile, wanted to admire the man longer, but continued his role as Warden Commander.

Amarth sat up violently, cupping his hands over his ears. The elf gritted his teeth as screaming pierced through his eardrums and shook his brain. It was painful, pound, loud. It wasn't like when he felt darkspawn nearby. No, it was much worse. But Amarth had his eyes shut tight as he fought through the screaming.

And suddenly, it was gone. The screaming, the pounding, the pain. It was all gone. Amarth didn't notice that Daylen was sitting beside him, a confused expression covering his features. Amarth gave no time to consider it and crawled out of his tent. The night was calm aside from Alistair standing outside his tent. He had the same look, one that said he was in pain just moments ago.

"What was that?" Amarth asked.

"No idea- wait. Did you hear that?" Alistair asked, reaching for his sword. Amarth followed, fumbling to find one of his daggers. It took a minute, Amarth only finding one of his two knives, when a monstrous creature appeared and tried to claw at his face. He had almost no time to jump back and dodge the swipe. The creature managed to cut across the bridge of his nose, but that was it. Amarth made quick work of falling into a pattern of dodging and attacking. Without warning, the creature froze and Amarth managed to sneak a glance at Morrigan, staff in hand and frost gathering around the tip of the staff. This gave Amarth the chance to look around camp to see his party fighting these creatures. Even Daylen and his friends were awake now, fighting along side Amarth's companions.

Amarth was suddenly shoved to the ground, a sword at his throat. The elf kicked his attacker off and pointed his lone dagger, but his heart dropped once he got a full view of the creature. He was bald, his skin turned black from the Blight, and his eyes were harrowing yellow. But his ears were still pointed, his cheekbones still round and jaw strong, and his face was full of pain. Amarth's hand began to shake, his dagger slipping. The creature didn't move towards or away from Amarth, only holding eye contact. A lump formed in Amarth's throat as he choked out, "Tamlen?"

The blighted elf hissed and dropped his sword, running away from the camp. Amarth heard Zevran and Alistair call to him but ignored both. The elf ran after his sick friend, watching Tamlen fall to his knees and gripping the side of his head. As Amarth approached, the sick elf stood and turned around, slumping forward. He looked as though he was in pain, like daggers were constantly stabbing through his body. Amarth wanted to reach out and hold him.

"Get back.... don't want to hurt... you," Tamlen said. Amarth felt his lip quivering. No, he can't cry. Not now. Amarth took half a step closer.

"Tamlen, it's me. It's okay. You won't hurt me," Amarth said. He wanted to drop his dagger, but he instead held the blade tighter. "It's okay. I can help you-"

"No help!" Tamlen shouted, taking a step back and shrinking away. Amarth took a half step closer to him. "Can't help... too sick... always hear the singing.."

"Singing?" Amarth asked. "You hear the Blight?"

Tamlen nodded weakly. "Hear him calling. Wants to gather... underground... can't go." Tamlen covered his ears and screamed. He looked Amarth dead in the eyes before falling to his knees.

"Amarth... love.... you... please, please... kill me.. don't want to hurt you," Tamlen pleaded. Amarth's eyes widened, the stinging of tears forcing him to blink. Hot tears began to race down his cheeks as he stared at his friend, his brother, his love.

"I... Tamlen... I can't-" Amarth tried to say.

But Tamlen didn't listen. He reached out for Amarth's dagger, forcing the standing elf to press the tip to his chest. Amarth couldn't breathe as Tamlen said "I'm so sorry, Amarth," and fell onto the blade. Amarth's mind couldn't catch up, couldn't handle what he was seeing. Tamlen had forced himself onto his blade to end his own suffering, refusing to listen to him or give Amarth the chance to help him.

The tears didn't stop. Amarth's knees hit the ground, his whole body losing strength. He just killed Tamlen, for real this time, and there was nothing he could do to save him. There had to be a way to save him. He could have been a warden, right? Couldn't they get some darkspawn blood and whatever else was needed for the ritual to make Tamlen a warden? Why did he have to die? It wasn't fair.

Amarth made his body move, pulling the dagger free of his friend's body. The elf moved so that he could place Tamlen's head on his lap and continued to cry, staring down at his dead friend. Amarth closed his eyes slowly, needing to see Tamlen at peace more than anything else in the world. Tamlen deserved peace, deserved to be at rest, and now he finally had it. How long had he been suffering like this? How long had he heard the Calling? How long had he been in pain? Amarth didn't want to think about it because that would make the tears worse.

Amarth had no sense of time, had no idea how long he had been there holding Tamlen's body, but suddenly a warm weight was behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Amarth couldn't hear the words, couldn't focus on the face. In the morning, he wouldn't be able to recall who got him away from his dead friend. He went through the motions, being ushered into his tent again. All he knows is that his nose was patched up with healing magic and his shirt was changed and before he knew it he was on his left side again. He should have closed his eyes, should have tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He would see Tamlen's face.

Against his instincts, Amarth turned over, facing Daylen, and curled up to him, pressing his nose to Daylen's chest. Daylen might have tried to say something, but Amarth ignored it. He couldn't hear him. The elf's hands grasped at Daylen's shirt, clinging to him. The human's arms were around Amarth, holding him close. Amarth had no willpower to stop himself, none. He didn't try to stop the tears, the sobbing, the violent shaking as it finally hit him that Tamlen was really, truly, dead. The whole camp could hear him, Amarth was sure. They would know that it was him who was crying, screaming, sobbing. They wouldn't say anything in the morning, but he would know they know.

Amarth didn't really know how to deal with his feelings, just needed to be held honestly. He couldn't remember the last time he had someone comfort him after a tragic event. He wouldn't allow Tamlen to comfort him at the manor because then Tamlen would have to know all that had happened to him. He couldn't remember if he even sought anyone out to comfort him when he was with the Dalish. This might have been the first time that he forced himself to find comfort in another person, to be reassured he was going to be okay.

It took awhile before the tears stopped. Took even longer for his breathing to get back under control. Daylen was still holding Amarth as he relaxed some, gathering his baring. The elf didn't release Daylen, still needing his warm body against his. Daylen didn't let go of Amarth either. It felt so good to have his broad arms around him, bringing the elf to his warm strong chest. Minutes passed before Amarth spoke up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice quiet and raw. His sobs had ruined his vocal cords for the night.

"Don't apologize," Daylen said. "I thought you were hurt. I asked Wynne why no one was saving you, but... she explained what happened. Alistair got you and brought you back here." There was a pause. "I'm sorry."

Amarth knew, or thought he knew, why Daylen was apologizing. He had lost someone close to him and it hurt. Daylen might have been apologizing for something else, but for now, that's all he could think of. Amarth sighed, trying to mold himself to Daylen's form.

"I'm okay." He wasn't okay. "I had figured he was dead since Duncan found me." He had hoped Tamlen was alive and with the Dalish this whole time. "I just have to move on." He has to learn to let go and focus on Daylen and him. "I'm okay." He was not okay.

Daylen didn't say anything, didn't try to press Amarth further. The elf felt the human's lips press to his head; a reassurance. A promise. Amarth didn't know what that promise was but knew that Daylen would stay. It was going to be okay.

#amarth mahariel #daylen amell #amarth x daylen #dragon age origins #friends ocs #stumbles oc #look I had an idea #and I made it sad #so here it is

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