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Astrid’s hand grazes the thick glass, enchanted and reinforced to never shatter.  The tube of glass is just tall enough to house the prize inside.  Dagna outdid herself back then when her magical enchantment studies had only just began.  The container still held strong after eight years or heavy travel and dozens of skirmishes.  Astrid has seen it fly, bounce down mountain cliffs, and get sat on by a chunky mabari.  Yet, the container stays firm and protective, the treasure inside as healthy and fragile as the day Alistair gifted it to her. “I saw it in Lothering on a dead bush.  I remember thinking, ‘How can something so beautiful be left alone in a dying world about to be overrun by darkspawn?’  Its beauty and resilience reminds me of you.’”

Her husband’s sweet voice still echoes those first expressions of love every time the Fereldan warrior pets the glass.  The journal page detailing that romantic exchange is the most worn out of all the written entries.  The item represents her first and most precious connection to her king so many leagues away.  Gazing at it reminds her of his sharp facial features and gentle honey eyes.

Astrid stumbled upon a legend today that sounded much like her love and difficult life with her royal husband.  It details a woman who becomes trapped in a cursed castle with an oversize beast, a rude and aggressive personified animal.  She trades her freedom to save her ailing father.  Over the weeks, the woman and beast build a friendship and slowly learn how to love one another.  However, the beast’s time is running short.  A wilting rose counts the days before the curse becomes permanent.  Chaos ensues, but a single kiss from the beautiful lady breaks the spell.  The beast is actually a prince who has learned to love beyond himself.

The Blight pumping through the Queen’s sickening body is the beast’s spell.  Both Alistair and she are the cursed royal beast and the beautiful woman.  Astrid traded her noble life to save her brother, but left her dying parents slaughtered by Arl Howe’s men.  Alistair and Astrid race against time to save their own lives before the Blight kills them and transforms them into the very creatures they fight.

However, that rose inside the woman’s precious glass tube is still as healthy and beautiful as the day Alistair picked it in Lothering.  It never wilts or loses petals.  Does that mean they will not succumb to the black infectious disease?  Will they break this deathly curse they drank willingly all those years to become Grey Wardens?

This is how Astrid falls asleep every night, holding her beautiful enchanted rose while camped in an unknown land’s fearful wilderness.  The rose pushes the cold and lonesomeness away, reminding her of cherished memories with Alistair and her friends.  She prays to the Maker she finds the cure tomorrow so she can return to her waiting husband so bored and mopey in his Fereldan castle missing her.  She pleads with Andraste that when she returns her womb will fill with many children, the future of their kingdom secure and not lost its current purgatory.  The idea of a dozen strawberry blond rugrats always makes her giggle.

It is these prayers and wishes that relax Astrid until asleep.

As long as her beloved rose continues to bloom, Astrid knows Alistair and she have all the time in the world to be love one another and beat the beastly blight.

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Evie never gets nervous.  It isn’t in her nature.  Showing fear with her family was like being a wounded halla surrounded by a pack of vicious wolves.  She learned this quickly as a little child, forming her raging persona quickly to protect herself.  Better to be aggressive and angry than show the mounting fright warring inside her soul.

Why should ten-year-old Evie be afraid of spiders anyway?  She knows why.  You get enough spiders thrown at you by your cousins, and you cannot forget the feel of their thorny legs crawling allover your skin.  Or how their spider web sticks to your hair for hours until at least two shampoo scrubs.  Or how people tease you swallow the beasts while asleep.  Or they can lay their ears in your ears!

Evie gulps hard.  She watches how all her Pox friends have no problem entering the old rundown cabin with not a care in the world.  Even little meek Maya Amell looks fine exploring the web-covered interior.

Absolute crippling terror overwhelms every nerve ending inside the young girl. 

For all her confidence and spunk, Evelyn Tesni Trevelyan falls to blasted eight-legged beasts!

“Eve?”

The frozen little girl hears his voice, but her eyes zero in on a little spider flowing down its silk from the cabin ceiling right in front of her nose.  It might be the size of a dime, but Evie sees a creature so massive it can cocoon a druffalo.  She wishes she could turn her head to the boy’s comforting voice somewhere nearby, but she no longer controls her body.

Soft, foreign skin contact encompasses her right hand, breaking the spider’s spell on her body.  Evie’s head whips to the right, bright green eyes popping from their sockets.  Her mouth gapes, feeling the kindest warmth enveloping her palm and chilly fingers.  The other hand’s fingers curve around her own, squeezing twice.

Cullen’s golden amber eyes twinkle at her.  He wears that infuriating smirk that Evie usually smacks his arm, shifting it into a laugh.  He does not judge her like her family for being scared.  Instead, he steps closer to her until she feels his body heat through her t-shirt and jeans.

“I got you, Eve.  It’s okay.”  His voice is high pitched since puberty has not shifted it to raspy squeaks yet.  His whiskey gaze shift to the other Pox’s exploring the rundown building.  He glances back at her.  “I won’t tell if you don’t mention I don’t like tight spaces.”

A huge grin plasters Evie’s childish facial features.  The fear recedes back into its dark abyss.  Instead, deep appreciation and a new warm fuzzy feeling embraces her whole being.  The little girl does not know what this expression is, but she only experiences it with Cullen.  She feels like whatever happens, as long as Cullen stands beside her and holds her hand, she can do anything.  She does not have to be angry or pretend to be brave.  Cullen allows her to be herself.

“Deal!”  Evie agrees with teary eyes.

Her best friend’s nods, taking the first step into the dreary old cabin.  Evie takes that step with him.  They are so alike.  They empower each other every day. 

Does Cullen feel this fuzzy tingle in his heart too?  Evie hopes so because holding Cullen’s hand is now her favorite interaction.  She will never forget this.  She cannot wait for it to happen again.

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Adelheid keeps seeing that egghead in her dreams.  He knows he is not in Haven, but she still sees him every time she closes her grey eyes.  He haunts her like the supposed demons her keeper always told about.

Loose.

An arrow lounges in the bullseye.

The Dalish elf felt stocked by the infuriating mage.  She is definitely not attracted to him.  He loves tearing down her beliefs and lifestyle.  Nothing happened like that.  You misrepresent your gods.  All you discovered is incorrect.  She hears his cutting words, talking about how the Fade showed him this, or this memory showed that X happened instead.  Adelheid does her best to ignore his supposed all-knowingness about ancient elves, but there is something in her soul that wonders if he is actually right.

The elf nocks another arrow and pulls back.  Loose.  Another bullseye.

Adelheid thought bedding the Iron Bull and Leliana would rip the doubt from her veins.  Every morning walking naked in their cabins or tents just reminds her the doubt is there.   Iron Bull tries to talk her into resolve again, while Leliana just eyes her like as an asset for the Inquisition if only Adelheid joined their cause.

She pulls another arrow from her quiver.

The dreaded-hair elf hopes her keeps calls her back.  Lord Shem Rian Trevelyan is their beloved Herald of Fuck-Face.  His siblings are here to support him.  Yes, Adelheid dodged death by missing the Conclave, but she already thanked the shems.  Isn’t that enough?

You don’t want to go back.  That egghead commented once.  You want to learn the truth, a justification to not bond with one of those feeble hunters you best daily.

Loose.  The arrow is an inch off the mark.

Solas’ words gnaw at Adelheid’s resolve.  She wants to prove to her clan they have been wrong.  They should never judge her for her desired lifestyle.  Shun her.

Adelheid throws her bow and quiver to the ground and kicks them several times.  They are tough and can take the abuse.  This is not the first time she has been at the archery range at night struggling.

“I need to be drunk and a good fuck.”  The Dalish elf mutters, snatching her bow and quiver from the snow.  “That will get that egghead out of my head.”

Adelheid knows it will not.  When she sleeps off the drink after a hard bedding, she will see him hovering just within her dream, watching and waiting like wa wolf seeing a wounded halla.  He will always be there until the day Adelheid gives in.

She wants to give in.

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Esme slowly opens his eyes, his head and body still achy from that fierce Venatori battle.  His groggy eyes immediately search the person beside him.  His anxiety keeps reminding him how close to the death they all were, the person Esme likes most of all.  Thank the Maker Iron Bull sounded the horn.  Rian would not let Esme specifically to die, but Esme refuses to leave the Chargers behind.  He is a Charger now.

Esme watches the man beside him take slow deep breaths.  The young noble watches if the other person is in pain or uncomfortable.  Esme has never felt like this for anyone.  He always thought himself a freak for desiring any sex or race.  Nobility shuns people who liked the same gender.  “It isn’t natural.”  He remembers Great Aunt Lucille snapping when Esme kissed his first guy.  “You’ll shame us all with your taint, just like your sister’s magic.”  Esme does not care.  For the first time in his life, he feels like he belongs and can care for someone.

The young nobleman rested his head beside his comrade and friend on the same pillow.  They already shared a blanket in the group tent and used one another for warmth on cold nights.  The moment Esme laid eyes on this man, he had been smitten.  He felt a fool many times, stumbling over his words like Commander Rutherford talking to his sister.  However, this young, handsome man never judged Esme.  Just laughed, handed him a Tevinter wine bottle, and resume their partying.

Unable to stop himself, Esme kisses his cheek, rousing the other man from sleep.  Those big brown eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times.  The other person grins, that beautiful tan skin shimmering in the sunlight shining through the tent flap.

Esme blushes, “Sorry I woke you.”

Krem rolls on his side towards Esme.  “It’s okay.  You pulled me out of that nightmare battle replaying in the Fade.”

“Then I’m glad I kissed your cheek then.”  Esme admits with a smirk.  “Dalish is still asleep.”

“Good, because I have something to tell you.”  Krem sighs, squeezing his eyes shut.  “The three of us are…in a unique situation.  Dalish and I have always just been physical, but it’s not what I want honestly.  However, I’ve…”  He takes a deep breath.  “…hesitated telling you something because…possible rejection.”

“By me or my family?”  Esme quizzes, knowing the Trevelyan’s influence is massive throughout the Inquisition.

“Your family to force you away specifically.”

Esme rolls closer to Krem, holding the strong man close to his body.  “My father and mother doesn’t care actually.  Just as long as I’m happy.  My sister keeps encouraging me to make a move with you.  Yes, Rian tried to set me up with Lady Montilyet, but I have no interest.  Rian might be Inquisitor, but he can shove it.  You have nothing to worry about.”

Krem grimaces.  “Well, I…”  He centers himself.  “I was not born a m-“

Esme stops him with a quick kiss, then pokes his forehead.  “You were born a man, in here.”  His finger moves to his chest.  “And in here.  The Maker just slipped and wrote the wrong word.  Added two extra letters.   Must have had a bad cold the day he broke the mold making you.”

Krem looks like he might cry.  “You already knew…?”

“You are you, Krem.”  Esme comforts his crush.  “That’s all that matters to me.”

Krem smirks.  “Thanks, Ezzy.”  He kisses him long and hard, their arms wrapped around one another.  Even not chest wrapped, Esme only feels Krem’s flat manly chest.  The Maker just gave him a few extra things and missed others.  A well place sock covered the latter issue.  Some people might have a problem with their life choices, but not Esme. 

Krem likes Esme.  Esme likes Krem.  Esme feels alive.

“We can get a few more bells of sleep before the Chief comes in here and starts throwing us outside in the mud.”  Krem comments, glancing outside a moment.

Krem hugs Krem.  “You make a great body pillow, you know.”

“And you’re a natural fire rune in this blasted rainy weather.”  Krem quips, the brightest smile across his face.

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Eve,

I don’t know where or when this will reach you because you’ve been all over the Western Approach the last month.  I’ll send it to Griffon Wing Keep where Rylen can forward to wherever you’re causing chaos.  Leliana might know your exactly location since Harding is usually scouting with you.  That dwarfs loves hunting Tevinters with you all.

I’m up again.  I attempted to sleep per Fessil’s demands, but all I did was toss and turn.  To keep my promise to you and the spunky elf, I’m not working and decided to write you a quick letter.  I’m just allowing my thoughts flow.  See, I can follow requests when you ask nicely.  Mia just makes it difficult.

I don’t sleep well when you’re not with me, both in the same building and in my bed.  I need to see and feel you against me, to sigh in relief and feel comfortable.  I know then you’re okay and that I can protect you.  It’s torture sitting here and thinking about you battling Venatori and red templars.  I feel like I’m lounging on my laurels just pushing papers around and every so often meeting with the other advisors on matters that determines if you live or die like what to order at the tavern.  You know I am not a man who is idle.  I know what I do protects and supports you, but I am doer, not a person who can sit on the sidelines and just watch.  Command is much more than that true, but those facts don’t chase away my doubts I’m not doing enough to help you.

I envy Rylen.  While yes, he gets to finally woe Cassandra out in the desert, I would give anything to have him here and me complaining about the heat and so much Orlais.  When you were on this side of the continent, at least I could greet you and wish you well when you returned and left Skyhold.  You do the same out there at a smaller fortress.  You’re doing great things for morale when you’re there.  Alas, it just makes me so depressed thinking I won’t get to kiss you once you and I are in your suite after a long time apart.  What I wouldn’t give to kiss every wound inflicted on your beautiful person.

I have a great deal of passion to make up for when you finally return to my side.  I wish to worship you not as the Herald of Andraste, but as a fiery woman who has capture my heart completely.  Whatever I do will not be enough, but I will do my best.

Come back to be safe and whole, Eve.

Always,

Cullen

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Leliana reminisces about those simpler days.  It always happens when a new letter arrives.  When her lover’s raven bats its wings and lands on that special golden perch, the new divine’s mind transports back in time.  For a brief moment, she was never the Left Hand of Divine Justinia or now sits on the Sunburst Throne.  Instead, she stands in that rundown Lothering tavern and watching the most beautiful woman in her life enter through the front door.

While Leliana’s faith has been tested many times, she still believes destiny demanded she fights beside that amazing mage.  When Maya opened her sky-blue eyes and saw Leliana, the lay sister’s strange prophecy dreams finally made sense.  Maya held her breath when Leliana first approached, wary of any Chantry official.  She told Leliana later she feared being sent her back to the Circle despite being a Grey Warden.  It made sense after the long and troubling life she lived before entering that tavern.

Then that hesitate breath shifted to relief and care.  Loghain’s men approached to slay the wardens, who were easily outnumbered.  Leliana knew she must protect these blessed people, that golden-haired maiden who just waltzed into her life.  Not wanting to revert to that terrible bard used by a former lover, Leliana hoped talking those thugs down would work.

It never does.  Leliana knows that lesson well.  That knowledge serves her well as divine now, even if softened by the Inquisitor, her dear friend.

That tavern battle required Leliana to fight money-grabbing thugs, back up the wardens, and avoid hitting other innocent patrons.  The chaos still rings in Leliana’s ears when taking the letter from the raven’s leg.  Schmooples II nudges her robed leg, mindful of her emotions like his mother nug.  She remembers diving behind tables to avoid another archer’s arrows.  She twisted and dodged a pair of dual daggers, easily dispatching the rogue with a precise arrow in the eye.

Then Lay Sister Leliana heard a strange sound.  It was hollow, but vibrated like a metal sheet.  Leliana glanced over her shoulder.  A beautiful blue sheen protected her from the thug boss’ longsword in the back.  Her icy blue eyes flash over the thug’s shoulder to see Maya holding a barrier around her.

“Alistair!  I can’t hold it must longer!  Save her!”  That was the first time Leliana heard Maya Amell’s sweet meek voice.  She instantly fell in love.  She could never walk away from that mage again.  The now King Alistair cleaved the man’s head off.  The fight ended in a matter of seconds.  All the while, Leliana’s gaze held on that slightly smiling human mage across the way.

The new divine’s mind finally returns to the present, her hands frantically breaking the letter’s seal.  Her fingers work quickly to open it, the first news from her love since becoming divine.  The first thing Leliana declared at her coronation was mage freedom from the Circles and their rights to love, marry, and have children.  Leliana’s wish for Maya and her still holds true to this day.  She finally had the power to make it happen.

Her icy blue eyes read over the five sentence several times, tears flowing more and more after each comprehending pass.

I’m coming home to you, my Divine.  I’m done fighting without you.  It’s finally over.  I’m--no we--are free!  I love you.

Chapter Text

The first time Evie calls Dorian and Iron Bull “Love Birds”, she finds them in the Herald’s Rest back corner.  Their heads lean towards one another, while at least one hand is under the table.  Dorian’s glare at her with such intensity she wonders if she was have shock burns, while Iron Bull gives her a cheeky grin. 

“Ugh, I might be sick.  This man?  Love?  He knows nothing about it in his barbaric Qun society.”  Dorian snubs the massive Qunari before taking a drink of expensive wine.

“Vints only love their blood magic.  Only way they get a hard on.”  Iron Bull retorts with an elbow shove.  “Well, all of them but you anyway.  All I have to do to get that co-“

Dorian shushes.  “Quiet, you!”

Evie knows neither man thinks much of love, but changes nothing about this little scene.  Ever since the Hissing Wastes, both men sneak into one another’s tent or leave each other’s Skyhold room a little out of sorts in the early morning.  It’s a release from the chaos around them and comfort that for just a moment the world cannot break them.

The second moment Evie mentions the “Love Birds” is soon after saving the Chargers from certain death.  Becoming Tal-Vosath muddles Iron Bull’s identity.  The Qunari comes with Dorian, Cullen, and Evie to meet his father.  Only Evie and Dorian enter the tavern, but it is Iron Bull who draws Dorian close around the fire that night.  Evie whispers to Cullen about the “Love Birds”, knowing now is not the time to tease the two men.  Cullen just nods, admiring the scene of comfortable silence.

“They’re both raw.”  Cullen comments later in Evie and his tent.  “They’ve just faced their worst fears, but now stand at a Crossroads.”

“I don’t think so.”  Evie counters, her bare form pressed against her Lion.  “I think all those rules and limitations finally broke.  Their excuses no longer apply, and they’re kind of in shock.  They just need time to face the music inside them both and see resisting their growing feelings is silly now.  I call them the Love Birds because they have been stuck in two cages all their lives.  Now, they finally busted free, but do not understand out what do.  They can fly away, but freeze on their little perches.  They’ve sung to each other from across the rookery for months now.  Now they can finally be together, but they hesitate to fly.”

Cullen kisses Evie’s forehead.  “When did you get so poetic?”

Evie swats his bicep.  “One of us must talk romantically and not stutter.”

The final time the Inquisitor speaks of “Love Birds” is two days after the last Emprise du Leon dragon fight.  She notices there is an addition around Iron Bull and Dorian’s neck, a split dragon tooth on chains.  She realizes this is why the Qunari asked if he could operate on the dragon’s head right after the battle.  Knowing a little about Qunari customs, Evie realizes what has occurred.

“I’m happy for you, free little Love Birds.”  Evie smiles at the pair when she approaches them in the Herald’s Rest. Evie raises her shot of tequila in honor of their union.  Both men’s hands on are top of the table, Dorian fingers wrapped around Iron Bull’s index finger.

At first, it looks like Dorian will reject the statement, but his lips purse.  He glances at Iron Bull.  “Let’s keep the ‘cutest’ down to a minimum, dear Cousin.”  The Tevinter altus requests, while twisting his moustache.  “We have images to uphold, you know.”

Evie chuckles, waving a goodbye.  She does not want to interrupt their little cozy scene.  “Just avoid break this bed.  You’re bankrupting the Inquisition.  Josephine is about to castrate you two, while the bed maker is a millionaire now.”

Iron Bull busts out laughing.  “You’re taking all the fun out of it, Boss.  Now, if you invest in a way to-“

“Amatus!”

“Kadan, you’ve wanted a swing for-“

Evie leaves before hearing anything more.  Her hearts warms knowing her friends are finally embraces themselves and each other.  Their love will be difficult and lonesome at times, but worth it.  She just hopes the world respects those beautiful Love Birds finally set free.

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Evie grumbles to herself, adjusting the gauze around the sutures so it will not agitate the dry sky.  Her fingers work quickly and carefully like when she strums her bow across her violin.  All the while, she checks several times if there is enough silver antibiotics on the bandaging to keep the long stab wound from becoming infected.

“You know I could do this myself.”  Evie’s bodyguard grunts, keeping his bicep and shoulder still as she finishes her medical tending.

“Well, call it guilt.  When I saw you take that blade from that psycho fan…”  Evie allows her words to fade away.  Cullen watches as her breathing quickens.  A few minutes past before she speaks again.  “I feel like this is the best way to stay ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ without crossing a line.”

“You know this is my job, right?”  Cullen wants to sooth her and demonstrate he was not in any major danger.  As usual, he messes it up.  Something about this celebrity violinist makes his brain blow up.  “Your brother directed me to shield you.  This…”  He lifts he wrapped bicep.  “…is part of that promise.”

“And if your Inquisitor had not ordered you to protect me…?”  Evie hisses through her teeth. 

The dancer took his statement wrong.  Bloody Void, Rutherford.  You two agreed to remain professional and keep personal feelings out of this.

Maybe for just a moment, they can live as if there are no limitations and blocks keeping you apart.

“I would have been hugging and kissing you.  I would have never seen that bastard coming up fast.  I would have pivoted and used my body to shield you completely.  The wound might have been worse, but I would have been doing what I wanted to do with you since the moment I met you.”

Evie’s face turns pale.  Then, as Cullen’s words sink in, those beautiful olive facial features glow with scarlet blush.  Her sassy wickedness curls her plump lips into a smirk.  “And I could give you an even better thank you…”  Her hands just grazes the inside of his thigh before cupping his cheek.  “…don’t get hurt again, Cullen.”  Her lilt disappears.  Her bright green eyes glisten with unshed tears.

Cullen exhales, fighting the deep urges stirring in his heart.  “I’ll allow anything to happen to me…to protect and care for you, Eve.”

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Astrid knows having this urge is inadvisable.  The negative consequences greatly outweighed any benefits the action would entice.  Still, with all the facts stating no, her heart and soul craved to do what her body desired all evening.  He sits so close, his body heat keeping the late autumn chill at bay.  He moves with each gust that flickers the flames in front of them.  All these little sacrifices just makes keeping her hands and body to herself beyond control.

They are best friends.  Astrid values that more than anything.  These extra emotions threaten what she holds dear.

“I’m freezing out here.”  Evie mumbles, standing up.  “I’m heading home before my nipples can cut ice.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not Fereldan.”  Nate jokes, standing too.  “But we should wrap up this party.  The old man comes home tomorrow, and I want to sleep one last night in peace before his alcoholism wakes Haven.”

Cullen nudges Maya, who fell asleep against his shoulder.  “Come on, May.  Time for you climb up the maple tree.”  They always snuck her out of her restrictive house via the maple tree beside her bedroom window.  Cullen realizes it is just easier to carry her back to the farm tree, the blonde meek young lady fast asleep.

Alistair stands, still blocking the blowing wind from disturbing Astrid.  “I’ll walk you home.”

Astrid glares at the chivalrous man, while her insides turn to jello.  “I know my way home, Ali.  And karate.”

Alistair offers his warm hand that stayed in his sweatshirt pocket all evening.  “I know that, but I heard wolves earlier.  My Ma would kick my butt if I did not at least walked part way there until we’re protected in the town.”

The emotionless young woman sighs and takes his hand.  She ignores the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the romantic moment.  No, she cannot think about this like that. 

The walk back to town occurs in silence.  Astrid does not know what to say, the desires to hold him slowly overpowering her usually iron-hard will.  She slips glances at him on her right, admiring the strawberry blond’s angled profile from the elven genetics.  His hair tosses in the blowing breeze that he still shields her against walking through Haven’s streets.

Alistair continues walking with Astrid pass the midpoint where he had said he would leave her be.  She does not want him to leave her side, but her mind pushes against the wants and dreams emerging in her heart.  They could ruin their prized friendship.

Finally, they reach her parents’ front door.  Eleanor and Bryce are in Highever for some college function for her brother.  The house is dark.  She reaches into her satchel for her house keys, her eyes flicking to Alistair beside her.  Her hands slow trying to find the keyring.  She does not want the moment to end.

Astrid finds them, reluctant to pull them out of the bag.  Her attention shifts to Alistair.  He stands under the porch light projecting him in a golden halo like he is blessed by the Maker himself.  He wears that slight grin that shows he is always happy and cheerful no matter the situation.  He is her sun in her new moon night.

Astrid cannot stop herself.

The black-haired senior bounces forward.  Lips crush against one another in fumbling mess.  Neither person is prepared for the action nor unsure what to do afterwards.  They simply press lips, their knowledge of kissing premature and nothing like this. 

Still, two callused hands encircle Astrid and pull her close.  She feels this young man’s body heat surrounding her like a warm blanket.  She feels cared about and protected.  He cherishes her like an expensive vase that can actually withstand a hurricane if pressed.  Still, Alistair is gentle with her.

Then Astrid wakes up.  She realizes all she just risked by her lapse in judgement.  She pulls away, but Alistair holds firm, hugging her now after their kiss ends.  Astrid wishes to protest and apologize, but he will not let her.

“…I’ve come to…care for you.  A great deal.”  Her Sun begins into her ear.  “I think maybe it’s because we’ve gone through so much together, I don’t know.  Or maybe I’m imagining it.  Maybe I’m fooling myself.  Am I?  Fooling myself?”  Astrid’s heart and soul aches, finally admitting what was happening between the two childhood friends.  He too feels for her as Astrid wonders at night.  He directs her moonstone eyes to his face.  “Or do you think you might even…feel the same way about me?”

Astrid could stop this right here.  She can just break it before their friendship suffers.  It is what she should do.

But she does.  Astrid wants this…with him.  “I think I already do…”  She speaks it aloud more for herself to understand what she has been avoiding for years.

That little bastard grins like a demon down at her.  “So I fooled you, did I?  Good to know.”

Alistair pulls her close, his intentions with this little game somewhat unclear.  His lips are on hers, surprising her as she did him before.  However, both people know what to do—feel—now as their lips move over one another.  Alistair is not as familiar with kissing than Astrid, but he is a natural.  Astrid grows dizzy quickly as she kicks away all her fearful thoughts to finally enjoy this beautiful man.

Alistair pulls away.  “That…that wasn’t too soon, was it?”  His voice is hoarse from their kiss, while meek and nervous.  Alistair’s fear of being alone and misreading a situation bleeds into this moment.

It is Astrid time to tease.  “I don’t know.  I’ll just to test it more.”

Alistair rolls those golden blue eyes.  “Well, I’ll have to arrange that then, won’t I?”

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Kirkwall, Post-Chantry Explosion, Six Years Ago

Evie’s love potion…anti-anxiety potion…actually, anything potion-like is tequila.  Depressed?  Tequila.  Happy?  Tequila.  That hot templar who saved her from certain death earlier today sitting down beside her and she needs all the courage to talk to him again?  Lots of tequila!

Many people would say Evie’s drinking habit knocks on alcoholism’s door, enters, and sits on its couch like she lived there.  (Maker, her brain is acting weird tonight…)  While that is true, she knows when to stop.  Especially tonight, she drinks to overcome all the stress and guilt that the Kirkwall explosion caused in her soul.  Sometimes, it is okay to just drink, to feel numb, and just be someone else for just a few hours.  The sunrise will remind her who she actually is and force her to face the music she created.

Tonight though, Evie wanted to be someone else…and craved the man who just saved her again.  While she could have fought off that Samson, that fucking lyrium addict knew if she threw a punch after a mage destroying the Chantry, she would be the villain and have a lobotomy needle in her skull by dawn.  If Lion had not entered the Hanged Man right then and witnessed the clear abuse of power on a visiting mage specialist…she shutters.  It did not happen.  Thank the Maker.

Philliam was right.  She is on her own.  However, it seems Lion is her ally.  Strange since he was likely a high-ranking templar officer in the worst city-state in Thedas.

“Can I buy you a drink…as thanks for saving a damsel in distress?”  Evie mumbles to the exhausted man sitting in the stool beside her.

“If I know anything about you, Anchor, you are no damsel.”  Lion smirks and shakes his head.  Evie’s gut instantly pulses, craving this man like a mabari bitch in heat.  “But I won’t say no to a whiskey.”

“Coriff, Antivan reposado tequila and whiskey-“  Evie calls to the bartender.

“Neat, please.”  Lion cuts in to clarify his preference.

“Your best, please.”  She waves to her wallet on the counter.  “I’m paying.  If I’m no damsel, social dynamics don’t apply.”  Lion just shrugs, not arguing on the pointing even though she could see he wants to. 

Watching the bartender walk away, Evie perks an eyebrow, pulling some of her bobbed brunette hair behind her pierced ear.  “Neat.  I can respect a drinker who does not like ice watering down his fine whiskey.”

Lion chuckles, pulling his stool closer to her.  His cheeks flush watching Evie’s finger flowing the shell of her ear and her angled jawline.  “And every time I have met someone who drinks tequila shots ­­willingly enjoys waking up with a massive hangover and hunting down which bad mistakes she committed the night before.”

Evie shrugs.  “While that might be true, my liver man’s up for the challenge.  I’m resigned that I will need a liver transplant by the time I’m thirty.  I think if I stop drinking it, the collective hangover will instantly kill me.  As for the ‘bad mistakes’, who says all of them were regrets?”

Mentally, Evie thinks to herself, a majority, but not tonight’s chances.  Hopefully…

The heroic Lion’s golden eyes studies her like a predator stocking prey.  Those spheres draw Evie in as both adults take a drink from their glasses.  The bartender already has another shot waiting for her.  He too senses her need for ‘love potion’.  “Maybe I have not been drinking tequila with the right people.”  That smug grin is back, his whiskey eyes aflame.

“It seems so.  You dare to find out my mistakes, Templar?”  Evie quips with her own fiery gaze.

“Absolutely.”

Evie waves to the bartender again.  “Another set of liquid courage, Coriff…”  Her brown eyes never break from that intense amber stare.  “…and keep them coming.”

Chapter Text

“It’s been awhile since we have gotten to do this together…”  Cullen sighs, pulling his legs up on the boulder.  He forewent the armor for the evening.  Just for a moment he just wants to be a man, no titles of duties over his head.

“I did it alone every dusk while in the desert.”  Evie admits, her bright green eyes focused on the mountainous horizon.  Just for a moment, she glances to her right.  “I hated it.  I never felt so lonely.”

Cullen gives her a pouting smile, sympathetic in nature.  The last few months have been particularly difficult for Evie.  Now, having her back at Skyhold, maybe she will finally overcome her hells surrounded by friends and loved ones who care about her.  He wishes to see that genuine smile she wears so content that seems like a distant memory now.

“I hope this slowly undoes that now.”  The ex-templar hopes in soft tones.  “I’m not going anywhere, Eve.”  He wants to reach out and hold her hand clawing the boulder beneath them, but knows touch triggers her.  She is not ready for the familiarity they took for granted before.

Evie holds in in a sob, her chest heaving from his declaration.  “I wish I knew you back then, Cullen.  Even in your sour state, you still cared about your charges and their wellbeing.”  Her teary eyes flashed to him with gratitude.  “I cannot overcome this without you.  I don’t have the strength anymore.”

Cullen offers his hand instead.  She slowly takes it, scooting closer until they are barely touching.  He feels her body heat through his trousers and tunic.  Her magic is close to her body, ready and scared for the void to occur.  Will she ever feel safe again?  “Helping you will also heal me.”  Cullen confesses, his scarred lips barely opening.  “They committed several injustices against you.  I committed many adjacent crimes as a knight-captain in the Chantry and Order’s name.  Together, we will find resolution and heal.”

“Let the infection end with the sunset?”  Evie suggests, her pink lips slightly turning up as she watched the sun fall below the rocky horizon.

“And the healing rise with the dawn.”  Cullen finishes with a grin.  “Isn’t that what you Inquisition is about?  The dawn will come?”

Evie finally allows a tear to fall.  “I never knew going to the Conclave would lead to such a moment.  I’m scared…”

Cullen makes sure his movement and behavior is in full view.  She allows him to wrap an arm around her shoulders.  She leans into his chest, burying her crying face into the crook of his neck.  She has not been so close since before Adamant.  “So am I.  But we can be afraid together, my Lady.”

Chapter Text

“So Astrid, have a great Satinalia?”

Astrid glances up from her computer while entering some patient orders.  Her moonstone eyes study the fellow Emergency Room doctor leaning over the counter.  Some personnel in the hospital stay away from Dr. Adam Anders.  Many dislike his silly jokes and shifting nice-to-demanding personality, but Astrid appreciates him.  He is one of the best doctors she has ever met.  She always wonders why he is working at such a backwater hospital and not curing cancer in Kirkwall.  His fierce political views are likely to blame.

“Yes…?”  The Pox’s doctor replies, her face stolid but wondering why her friend acts like he is Sir Pounce-A-Lot, his cat, who ate a pigeon, as Alistair would say.

Anders nudges his stubble chin toward Astrid’s shoulder.  “I just thought you were spending the holiday eve alone is all.  You always get sour around your birthday.  Apparently, this year’s celebration was brighter?”

Astrid glances at herself awkwardly, seeing some strange mark peeking out from under her scrubs.  She turns her desk chair towards a mirror the nurses kept at their station to see a dark purple bite mark just emerging from under her top.  Her mind instantly flies back to the night before howling like a banshee while Alistair rams her from behind in the bath.

Fuck.

There is no way Astrid could pass this off as a fall or the General MacBarkson biting her during playing.  She can see perfectly Alistair’s canine and front teeth imprinted into her pale, Fereldan skin.  She had been so involved in their passions; she missed his possessiveness during their climax.

So, Astrid the best next thing.  “No one.”  She replies, grey eyes meeting Ander’s like they were discussing the weather.  She shrugs and continues with her business like it was a daily occurrence.  See Alistair, you can have sex and not tell the world about bed partners.  Sex is a normal activity adults do.  No one has to hear all the details.

Anders notices her passiveness easily, grimacing a little.  “Just strange from a woman who controls everything in her life.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t have a one night fuck during residency, Anders?”  Astrid quizzes with a perked brow.  “A handsome man like yourself going through those years without someone warming your bed and relieving stress seems quite unlikely.” 

Anders chuckles, his attention focusing if any of the nurses or patients need him.  It is slow right now.  “I never said that.  This nurse Karl and I were frequent bed fellows for years until he was forcible transferred to Kirkwall.  When I moved there, I searched for him and found he had nearly died in a car accident likely caused by gang violence.  He suffered with permanent brain damage and turned into a vegetable.”  He exhales.  “I really liked him.  Tragic.”

Astrid purses her lips.  “I’m sorry, bud.  Hollow words, but not everything is meant to be.”  Her mind instantly goes to her warring emotions the night before with Alistair.  As much as Alistair believes they can be together, the risks are too high and reality denies them such opportunities.

“I disagree.”  Anders smirks at his coworker.  “For example, I should thank you for pushing that broken nose on me a few weeks ago.”

Astrid stops what she is doing.  Anything involving Garrett Hawke always makes her pause right now.  After his slanderous remarks about her fellow Pox’s and him snooping at the Amell House, Astrid monitors Hawke’s sneaky activities.  Evidently, he showed up to the Trevelyan Manor last night and nearly caused an incident with Evie and Cullen.

“Oh?”

Anders blushes and stares off into space.  He pulls his doctor’s lab coat off his shoulder, exposing his own love marks numbering at least seven.  “I’m just saying you shouldn’t always be ashamed to find some release, Dr. Stress On Legs.  Opportunities and partners pop up in the strangest places.”

“Fornicating with patients is a no-no, Anders.”  Astrid sings like a mother punishing her toddler.

The blond doctor rolls his eyes.  “I packed up his nose after your friend Evie broke it weeks ago.  He was my patient for twenty minutes.  I did not meet him again until days later at the Singing Maiden.  We had a few drinks, talked, and just…connected.  We didn’t sleep together until a week after that.  Don’t worry on that account.  I’m not that idiotic.  You won’t lose me, big Sis.”

Astrid smiles up at her friend.  “I know you would be smart about it.  I genuinely happy for you, bud.”

“You could be happy too, Cousland.”  Anders taps his knuckles on the counter before walking away.  A new patient just came into triage.  “Just got to have a little luck is all.”

Astrid sighs and frowns.  “Not at the cost of losing all my friends…” 

Chapter Text

Touching Evie’s skin always centers Cullen.  When he wakes from past hells, the first thing he does is reach out for his wife and touches her.  It could be her right arm or half exposed stomach.  But tonight, she uncovered the whole body during the night.  They fell asleep exhausted and spent from their passions.  The top sheet rolled off her legs and hips in her kicking.  So now, in the moonlight, his Lady sleeps exposed and majestic for his eyes to study and finger tips to roam over.

Evie encourages the touching once noticing it evened Cullen’s breathing quickly after a panic attack.  She remarks it must remind him of the present, something solid.  Cullen counters it is because her skin reminds him of what he has now.  He survived those hells to later meet and fall in love with her.  She always blushes after such compliments.

Cullen’s right hand follows the full breath of her, from her drool-crusted face to ankle and back.  Finally, after so many years of restless sleep, nothing wakes her easily.  She finally rests deeply, but only if he is lying beside her.  She actually sighs with each touch, her body stretching like a cat.  More of her lays displayed for his wandering orbs.  She throws a leg over his hip and crawls closer.  The summer heat makes their skin tacky, but they never shy away.  They always need to touch, may it be holding a hand under a table or him deep inside her encouraging the most primal sounds from her lungs.

The retired warrior’s whiskey eyes shifts to the rising and falling chest now on display so close to his.  With each breath, her dark nipples just graze his chest hair tickling the follicles.  The sensation sends tingles to his groin where he is hardening fast.  Her breasts swell does something to him.  Her shapely behind makes him want to reach out and grab her.  Years of dancing and fighting tightened her bottom’s muscles, while her noble rigid back presents her chest in any clothing she wears.  Cullen ignores the white burn scars that contrasts with her olive skin.  Those wounds will always be there physically, but Evie healed emotionally.  He is so proud of her.

Cullen’s fingers following the old scar right under left breast, the offender long dead but did not suffer enough before being sent into the Void.  The scar used to bother Evie.  Now, it sends her clitoris alight each time Cullen touches and kisses it.  He worships the old wound each time they make love, rewriting its history so she gazes upon it with a soft smile than scorn.

Feeling if he touches her nude body more while asleep he makes him a creep, Cullen shifts his hand to her angled jaw and high cheekbones.  Evie presses her cheek into his palm, her dreams enforcing his attentions in the Fade.  Her pink, plump lips part.  They beg for his scarred mouth like she wants to wake and give into their desires again.  A small sheen of sweat highlights her faded freckles along her nose and upper cheeks.  Cullen calls them her ‘spot meadow’ because they remind him of ripe barley right before harvest.  That specific field sat closest to his favorite lake, noticeable through the trees.  He would watch the stocks sway in the breeze from the dock.  The memory always comes back to him when admiring her face.

A quick peck on soft, moist lips wakes him from his memories.  His finger still on Evie’s jaw.  He stares at her face, seeing that genuine smile that is reserved for him.  Her bright green eyes slowly open and shine up at him.

Cullen purses his lips and blushes.  He woke her.  He hates when his centering and body admiration does that.  “My apologies…”

Evie nudges some auburn bangs from her face.  “I’m not.”  Her hips grind into his.  “I felt your arousal.  I was having a sex dream and wanted the real thing.”

Cullen chuckles, combing his tossed hair with his other hand.  “You are insatiable, woman.”

“I haven’t heard you complaining…”  Evie retorts with a perked brow.

Cullen rolls on his back, pulling Evie on top of him.  He loves watching her sitting on him.  How her breast bounce and body flex every hop long his shaft.  Her long auburn hair falls over her shoulder, just barely covering her nipples.  The moon’s grey rays halos her nude form.  Her magic send little yellow sparks resembling fireflies around their bodies.  Cullen loves how her whole being respond to their love.  He no longer fears her magic during lovemaking.  Now, Cullen uses how much it swirls and how many ash flakes fly on how close she is to climaxing.

Evie grips his full erect member, positioning him just outside her entrance.  She is slick and ready.  That must have been a hot dream.

His Lady goes to slip down him.  A knock on the bedroom surprised both adults.  Evie grabs her magic, while Cullen reaches for the dagger he keeps right under his pillow.

“Mama…Papa…?”

Evie jumps off Cullen, both parents shuffling for thrown clothing and sheets to cover their nakedness.  Cullen curses under his breath.

“No one said how frustrating parenthood would be…”  Evie hisses through her teeth.  “And she wonders why she doesn’t have a sibling yet.”

“At least she knocked this time.”  Cullen comments, slipping on a pair of linen trousers.  His erection aches against the ties.  He raises his voice.  “Yes, Pup…?”

“I had a nightmare, Papa.  Can I sleep with you two?”

Both parents trade looks.  The urgency to couple is still there, but their love for their four-year-old daughter is more powerful.  Evie squeezes Cullen’s bicep.  She mouths ‘The barn…’ and winks.  The horse barn is their little getaway during the day.  Everyone knows not to follow them in there.  The retired commander chuckles and nods.

“Come on in, my little Light.”  Evie calls.  Her smalls are tied, and she wears one of Cullen’s oversized tunics.  Seeing her in his clothing makes his thick member cry out for the denied connection.

A short blonde little girl gripping a satin blanket and her thumb in her mouth waddles in.  There are tears in her bright green eyes.  She sniffles a few times.  “Thunk Wou…”  She mumbles around her sucking thumb. 

The toddler reaches Cullen, one scrunching hand pawing for his care and protection.  He lifts his child with ease and brings her down on the bed.  “It’s okay, Pup.  The big bad wolf won’t get you.  It is okay to be scared, but we can fight those nasty demons, remember?”

“Like when you were a general and Mama kicked the Dread Wolf’s butt?”

Evie giggles, her remaining arm wrapping around her first born.  “Just like that, my Light.”  She kisses their daughter’s head.  “We’ll be right here, Diana.  We got you.”

Diana instantly leans into Cullen’s chest while being spooned by her mother.  She quickly falls back asleep.  The Fade might taunt her, but her parents shield her from the worst voids.  Evie and Cullen trade longing looks.  Despite their other desires, this feels like peace and perfection.  It is home.

Sleep reclaims Cullen quickly.  The vision of his wife and daughter lying beside him centers and prepares the wounded man for the Fade’s hell.  He has something worth fighting for.