Fanfic writer with a passion for exploring romantic relationships // Fandoms: Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect, and Dragon Age // Fandom: Dragon Age, Horizon Zero Dawn, Mass Effect
Abelas’s hand stilled at the sound of Athera’s sleepy murmur. Then he resumed the careful, slow stroking of her chestnut strands. “Yes. I suppose I am,” he said. Her hair was damp and tousled at the moment from their earlier activities, but it was thick and glossy all the same, and uncommonly long from what he’d seen of this blunted time. The length of it was like a reminder of home.
Athera shifted slightly, nestling her cheek more securely against his bare chest. “No one’s done this before,” she told him. “Stroked my hair like this, I mean. I like it.”
He hummed a soft acknowledgement, and they fell back into a cozy silence.
His fingertips drifted smoothly along her scalp and through the dark ropes of her hair, and eventually he spoke again. “Long hair was fashionable in Arlathan, before the fall. Elaborate braids spilling down the back were a sign of status.”
She lifted her face to grace him with a cheeky smile. “So what you’re saying is that you were a high-class elf.”
“I was a captain of Mythal’s army and the head Sentinel of her temple,” he reminded her, and she chuckled.
“All right, messere upper-crust,” she teased gently. “I get the picture.” Then she grinned more widely, her ice-grey eyes sparkling with amusement. “So I wonder what would that make Solas then, if he was in old Elvhenan? I suppose he’d be one of us common folk with his bald head.”
Abelas gave her a tiny smile, but didn’t reply. Her remark was close and yet so distant from the truth. But he couldn’t tell her that the Dread Wolf had purposely shorn his elaborate dreadlocks to show solidarity with his rebel uprising.
He carefully brushed her hair back from her face, then gently squeezed her shoulder. “Sit up,” he said.
“Bossy. Your nobility is showing,” she said with a smirk, but she sat up nonetheless, settling into a cross-legged position on the bed as Abelas slid out from beneath her and padded over to her armoire. He picked up a handful of small linen strips, then walked back over to the bed.
He sat behind her on the bed and began gathering her hair, pulling it over her shoulders so it hung in a sleek curtain along her naked back. Then he gathered a small section of hair toward the left side of her head and began plaiting it.
She turned her head slightly to grin at him. “You’re braiding my hair?”
“Yes,” he replied. His fingers darted and flicked along the wavy lock, the intricate plait taking shape as his hands moved from her scalp down to the center of her back.
Athera glanced doubtfully at Skyhold’s dank prison cells, then smirked at Abelas. “Is this your idea of a romantic date?”
The Sentinel shot her a chiding look. “You must be patient. Some of the best destinations are the culmination of the most inglorious paths.” He reached out and took her hand. “Not much further now.”
Athera eyed him thoughtfully as he led her through the enclosed section of the prison and out toward the crumbling outer section, which opened out into a breathtaking – and vertiginous – view of the Frostback Mountains. The ancient stone floor in the center of this area had disintegrated completely, the ground giving way to the roaring waterfall that pulsed beneath the castle. Athera and Abelas skirted the edges of the walls, their bare feet carefully navigating the slippery path as he led her toward the outermost cell where the ground gave way to open sky.
He turned to her and took her hands. “We must climb partway down this wall. There are handholds, but I will give you some extra protection.”
He gently squeezed her hands, and a tingling warmth suffused her palms. She gave a little shiver at the unusual sensation, then smiled cheekily at him. “What, you don’t trust my balance? I’ll have you know I’m very nimble.”
“I know you are,” he said smoothly, and Athera bit the inside of her cheek in amusement as he graced her with a rare smirk. “But I do not take foolish chances. Now come.”
He began to climb down the wall, and as Athera followed him down, she marvelled at the effect of his magic on her hands; her grip felt stronger somehow and her palms almost sticky, but not in a disgusting way. She was quite sure that even if she tried to release the ancient stones of the wall, her hands would refuse to let go.
A short time later, her toes touched grass, and Abelas gallantly took her hand to help her find her footing as she looked around. He had led her to a narrow stretch of land, enclosed on the northeast by Skyhold’s majestic walls and sloping further down the mountain to the south. The waterfall had softened into a river that bissected this small stretch of land before flowing down to the south.
It was a lovely little spot. The grass underfoot was long and lush, and it tickled her ankles as she wiggled her bare toes. The area was scattered with hardy wildflowers that thrived in the cooler climes of the mountains, and the stars were startlingly bright overhead without the shroud of Skyhold’s torches to dim them.
“Wow,” she breathed. “This is a really nice spot. It’s so untouched.”
“Yes. It is very private,” Abelas agreed. “It is a purposely difficult path to follow.”
Athera frowned curiously. “Why?”
“It was once an emergency escape route,” he explained. “In case Tarasyl’an Te’las should ever be overrun.”
She released a tiny laugh at the thought. Skyhold overrun? The Inquisition’s castle might be ancient and falling apart in places, but Cullen and the Inquisition’s dwarven stonemasons all agreed it was the most impregnable fortress they’d ever encountered.
Abelas tilted her chin up to face him, and Athera’s amusement faded at the seriousness of his face. “Nothing is infallible, vhenan,” he said softly. He studied her face for a moment, then turned away to watch the rushing flow of the river. “Even the strongest structures can fall. It is often just a matter of time.”
Abelas and Athera Lavellan for @pikapeppa! Thank you so much for commissioning me! ❤
The inimitable @hansaera did this GORGEOUS art for my tragic baes to accompany a scene from The One Who Will Live On – I’m so thrilled with this image, I can’t even express!
The scene that inspired this beautiful art is below… ^_^
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The voices of the Vir’Abelasan were particularly loud that night, and she’d been having trouble blocking them out. Her wayward hair roiled around her shoulders like a nest of snakes, and the susurrus of incomprehensible Elvhen voices was increasingly difficult to ignore.
She’d turned to Abelas in desperation. “Do you know a spell or anything to control this?” she pleaded. “I might cut my damn hair off if it doesn’t stop. I think I’d make a more charming egghead than Solas.” The joke was weak, but the sentiment was genuine; she could barely hear herself think through the increasingly vocal whispers.
Abelas had frowned at her for a long moment, and Athera initially thought he was going to refuse. Then he reached out and stroked his fingers through her hair.
A sudden shock rippled from her scalp clear down to her toes, and her breath abruptly stalled in her chest. Abelas slowly wound the length of her hair around his fist, then leaned in close.
I’m supposed to say a few favourite things about My OTP(s). I have talked a lot about Aloy/Nil in previous posts – oh god, here and here and here and here and here and here – so I’ll mention a couple things I love about my Dragon Age babies instead! (Beautiful art below by the insanely talented HanSaera and NSFWFrosch!)
Solas and Elia Lavellan
They love nerding it up about the Fade and magic. Solas loves having someone to talk to about the Fade, and Elia loves learning from him. (And just hearing his voice. Voice kink smut, anyone…?) This dynamic is pretty similar to mine with my fiancé, though we switch back and forth in the “teacher” role – we work in completely different fields so we’re constantly learning from each other.
Abelas and Athera Lavellan
Headcanon fun fact: during the dream when Solas took Athera to Haven, she kissed him in the Fade. Then as soon as she woke up she ran to the rotunda and apologized profusely because he was like her brother and she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. And Solas was like “uh yeah hahah ridiculous ofc ofc let’s put it behind us” but really, Solas has feelings for Athera that never totally went away. Abelas doesn’t know about this kiss. It never occurred to Athera to mention it because it didn’t mean anything to her. And Solas never told him because they’re good friends and it would just be awkward.
Blackwall and Arya Lavellan
I have only ever written this pairing from Blackwall’s POV. All my other ships have switched between both partners’ POV. I have a hard time putting my finger on why exactly, but I think it comes down to “Arya’s thoughts about Blackwall would be boring to read because her love for him is so simple and uncomplicated.” Not that Blackwall is ambivalent about Arya, not at all, but there are things about his mindset that I find interesting to write: he’s so over-the-top utterly devoted to her, which is fun to indulge in; his guilt about the Thom Rainier deception is angsty and delicious to write; and his bullheaded insistence on protecting her despite her tongue-in-cheek mischief is a fun dynamic to play around with.
Thanks for the tag @alyssalenko! I looove these writing memes! ❤️
Rules: go to page 7 of your WIP, go to the seventh line and share seven sentences. Then tag 7 more writers to continue the challenge.
I don’t have a lengthy WIP at the moment, so I went back to the last thing I wrote that was more than 7 pages long: my Abelas/Athera Lavellan post-Trespasser oneshot, in which Abelas visits Athera in a dream after two years of silence.
*******************
“Athera.”
She froze instantly. That voice. That silken voice, she knew that voice – she loved that voice, she’d recognize it anywhere, and the treasured sound of it slammed the breath from her lungs.
A fuzzy ringing of unreality began to fill her ears. She finally dragged in a breath that rasped at the inside of her throat. “It can’t be,” she breathed.
Synopsis: When Athera hears her ex-lover’s voice again after two years of silence, she can’t quite believe her ears. It’s a figment of the Fade and nothing more, she’s sure of it.
But Abelas is here. He’s here in her dream, and with a wrench of joy and despair, she realizes the truth: that her attempts to let him go have been a complete and utter failure.
*****************
So this was incredibly hard for me to write and just in case anyone else feels like wallowing in a Well of Sorrows along with me (haaaa….?), here are the songs I listened to on loop while writing this thing (below the cut).
1. Don’t Wake Me Up by the Newton Brothers – eponymous song for this fic.
2. Lit The Fire by Ralph – the lyrics of this song are literally this fic in a nutshell. If I’d found this song before titling the fic, it would have been named after this song instead.
3. Just A Memory by ODESZA feat. Regina Spektor – more sadness.
Athera glanced doubtfully at Skyhold’s dank prison cells, then smirked at Abelas. “Is this your idea of a romantic date?”
The Sentinel shot her a chiding look. “You must be patient. Some of the best destinations are the culmination of the most inglorious paths.” He reached out and took her hand. “Not much further now.”
Athera eyed him thoughtfully as he led her through the enclosed section of the prison and out toward the crumbling outer section, which opened out into a breathtaking – and vertiginous – view of the Frostback Mountains. The ancient stone floor in the center of this area had disintegrated completely, the ground giving way to the roaring waterfall that pulsed beneath the castle. Athera and Abelas skirted the edges of the walls, their bare feet carefully navigating the slippery path as he led her toward the outermost cell where the ground gave way to open sky.
He turned to her and took her hands. “We must climb partway down this wall. There are handholds, but I will give you some extra protection.”
He gently squeezed her hands, and a tingling warmth suffused her palms. She gave a little shiver at the unusual sensation, then smiled cheekily at him. “What, you don’t trust my balance? I’ll have you know I’m very nimble.”
“I know you are,” he said smoothly, and Athera bit the inside of her cheek in amusement as he graced her with a rare smirk. “But I do not take foolish chances. Now come.”
He began to climb down the wall, and as Athera followed him down, she marvelled at the effect of his magic on her hands; her grip felt stronger somehow and her palms almost sticky, but not in a disgusting way. She was quite sure that even if she tried to release the ancient stones of the wall, her hands would refuse to let go.
A short time later, her toes touched grass, and Abelas gallantly took her hand to help her find her footing as she looked around. He had led her to a narrow stretch of land, enclosed on the northeast by Skyhold’s majestic walls and sloping further down the mountain to the south. The waterfall had softened into a river that bissected this small stretch of land before flowing down to the south.
It was a lovely little spot. The grass underfoot was long and lush, and it tickled her ankles as she wiggled her bare toes. The area was scattered with hardy wildflowers that thrived in the cooler climes of the mountains, and the stars were startlingly bright overhead without the shroud of Skyhold’s torches to dim them.
“Wow,” she breathed. “This is a really nice spot. It’s so untouched.”
“Yes. It is very private,” Abelas agreed. “It is a purposely difficult path to follow.”
Athera frowned curiously. “Why?”
“It was once an emergency escape route,” he explained. “In case Tarasyl’an Te’las should ever be overrun.”
She released a tiny laugh at the thought. Skyhold overrun? The Inquisition’s castle might be ancient and falling apart in places, but Cullen and the Inquisition’s dwarven stonemasons all agreed it was the most impregnable fortress they’d ever encountered.
Abelas tilted her chin up to face him, and Athera’s amusement faded at the seriousness of his face. “Nothing is infallible, vhenan,” he said softly. He studied her face for a moment, then turned away to watch the rushing flow of the river. “Even the strongest structures can fall. It is often just a matter of time.”
The Sharper Edge of Love: Romance, Sex, and Fanfic 