kierarutherford:

FLUFF, it shall be sweet cotton candy FLUFF!!! @dadrunkwriting

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Cullen growled under his breath, for once again Scout Jim had mixed up his letters with letters meant for the Inquisitor. Already in his linens and bereft of his armor, he slung his mantle over his shoulders with one final huff. Clutching the bundle of papers in his hand he marched across to the rotunda. Pausing a moment he listened in through the door. After all the hour was late and he didn’t want to offend the solitary elf at his place of study. Hearing not a sound from inside he quietly pushed open the door. Hanging along the far wall a brazier glowed with the faint teal of veil fire. Sprawled upon the couch was Solas, his hands upon his chest, fingers laced together in a peaceful sleep. 

As quietly as he could muster he crossed the void and slipped into the main hall. There too the open space seemed devoid of life. Being wary not to cause noise he crept towards her quarters, the whole while sweating about what he would say. The hour was late, why had his feet pushed him to this point? Yes she had stated her enjoyment of their time together and made mention of spending more, but at this hour? Biting his lip he stared at her door for a solid minute before the same energy that dragged him this far, pushed him through. 

Climbing the steps in silence he could hear her humming one of Maryden’s songs. Diana was known for many things but precious few people knew of her talents with song. He’d caught her once, and she’d blushed brightly, “tell no one!” She’d scowled at him before rushing away. Here, now he could hear the words clear as day, “oh, Grey Warden, what have you done…” before she’d break into a hum. Sighing contently he waited a moment more before he felt himself a fool. Turning to leave he caught the sharp intake of her breath, “Cullen!”

“Maker’s breath,” he mumbled. “Yes, uh, Inquisitor. May I… May I trouble you a moment?” Standing frozen in his place he could feel the blood pumping in his ears, the furious rush of adrenaline beginning to arch and spread through his core. “Please, come up.” With that he continued his assent. 

At the top of the steps he couldn’t help the goofy grin that painted his lips. She was in a relaxed nightgown, something comfortable, practical. It covered her, and reminded him of the oversized shirts his sister would wear to bed. “Commander?” She questioned and once again he felt like he was being a rude guest. “Ah, yes!” Holding the letters up he paced towards her at her desk. “It seems our letters were switched or at the least I have some of yours.” Holding his hand out, his cheeks stained a crimson he held his breath when her fingers touched his. “Thank you, Cullen. Why don’t you sit and share a drink with me?” 

“As you wish, Inq…”

“Please, Diana. Nothing more.” Pouring two glasses, she locked eyes with him, waiting for his response. “Alright, thank you, Diana.”

“I like it when you say my name.” Grinning wide she handed him a cup. “Please tell me you were hoping for more than to simply drop off these letters? It could have waited for the morning.”

“Would it be too forward to admit I wished to see you as well?” He didn’t know where those words came from, or how he’d formed them but Maker help him. Her smile at them made his soul sprout wings. “I’m pleased to hear it.” She sighed, more girlish than the cold Inquisitor everyone knew. “I wished to see you too, but I had thought it would only be a wish.” 

Taking a sip of his warm tea he let out a staccato of a chuckle, “then I guess we are both lucky tonight.”

“Then I shall enjoy drinking to that.” Diana lifted her mug and took in a sip and he followed suit. 

galadrieljones:

Hey
Ocean! Thank you so much for the prompt ❤ Here’s a little Sene Lavellan x Ameridan,
on a chilly winter’s twilight, Post-Trespasser.

This
takes place maybe like 5-6 months after they have a one night stand in the
Arbor Wilds, which can be found in my Lavellan x Ameridan fic Last Call.

---

Winter’s Bone

It
was winter in the Hinterlands. After returning to Skyhold, Sene still liked to
take rides out there to hunt, every month or so. That old refugee camp in the
Outskirts had long ago become a village. Tents became little houses made of
clay and stone. You could see the smoke rising from the chimneys over the hilltops
for miles. Scout Lace Harding had a house there now and whenever Sene went into
the region that is where she stayed. In Lace’s house there was a little guest
room with a stove for warmth and a wash bowl. It had a mirror and all of it was
furnished in a lovely dark wood. It felt very warm and like home with a red
quilt on the bed and green fluffy pillows. It felt cozy, like burrowing into a
hillside.

Cold
nights in the Hinterlands, after bringing in three or four rams to the hunters
in the the Outskirts village, Sene liked to ride over to the hidden tavern in a
cave in a valley not far from Redcliffe. It was called the Red Fox. It was an
old haunt from way back in the days of the Inquisition, when she and Solas were
just friends. Sometimes she thought back to him and it still really fucking
hurt. But she could go back to these old places now. It didn’t feel good, but
it felt like she was going down to a dreaming place without him. Putting her
hand in a fast river without him and feeling the water go by. She was okay.

That
night at the Red Fox, she took off her scarf and shook the snow out of her big,
stupid red hair and sat at the bar. She didn’t feel like talking, but she
wanted the option, just in case. The bartender was kind and served her a warm
whiskey and tea. She sat sipping and thinking about nothing in particular.
Earlier that week, she had received a letter from her father in the post that
told her all about winter back in Ansburg and how the wheat fields were going
to be extra gold that year. She didn’t hate him quite as much as she’d used to.
Spending so much time away, some part of her had begun to miss his widespread
and unfailing protection. When she was a kid, she would wear his jackets in
winter sometimes and they always smelled like smoke.

The
Red Fox was in a cave, and it had a tree growing inside. Tonight, it was
blinking with the light from many candles. There were many surface dwarves
around, playing cards and drinking, and there was a human lady bard with red
cheeks singing winter songs in the corner with her Fereldan accent. The room
smelled like soup with cinnamon, and she thought there must have been a pot on
in the back somewhere.

A
new person came into the tavern wearing a cloak after she had been there for
about half an hour. She glanced when she heard the crooked door open and close
some ways behind her, through the crowds and the happiness and the bard singing
about bells. He shook the snow off his shoulders and carried a big staff,
and when he took down his hood, she saw. It was Ameridan. He handed his coat
and his staff to a kind dwarven woman in a red sweater, and then he looked
around, and he pulled a big hand through his hair, which had grown longer, and
then he quickly tied it back into a little knot. No one looked at him oddly or
as if they recognized him. Just another tall elf passing through. They were not
so uncommon these days.

Sene
was surprised. She had not seen him in almost five months. She had no idea what
Inquisitor Ameridan could be doing in the this hidden tavern after twilight in
the Hinterlands.

When
he saw her, he smiled, like a risky, knowing smile, and he came over, and he sat
beside her at the bar. He folded his hands on the bar and just looked at her.
He was still smiling. “Inquisitor,” he said.

“Ameridan,”
she said. She shook out her head a little. “Why are you here?”

“This
place is world famous,” he said. He snapped his fingers for the barkeep, and
then he ordered a neat glass of bourbon and told the bartender to also pour one
for himself. “Haven’t you heard?”

“No,”
said Sene. She nudged him with her shoulder. “This is a cave in the middle of
nowhere.”

“I
tracked you here,” said Ameridan. The barkeep brought over the whiskey.
Ameridan toasted him and then took a long drink. The barkeep finished
his in one swallow, nodded in positive thanks, and went on his way.
Ameridan looked
back at Sene. He seemed very awake that night. Very alive and his eyes
were a
bright, deep green in the light from the candles in the indoor tree.

“You
tracked me?” she said.

“Yes,”
he said, looking right at her. “I went to Skyhold, and they said you were in
the Hinterlands, the Outskirts village. So I went to the Outskirts village, and
they said you were staying at Scout Lace Harding’s house. I went to Scout
Harding’s house, and she served me a pot of spiced tea and four chocolate biscuits, and then
she told me you were out hunting, and that after you go hunting in the
Hinterlands, you like to come here.”

“I
can’t believe it,” said Sene.

“Indeed,”
said Ameridan. He leaned a little toward her. “How are you?” he said.

“I’m
fine,” she said, blushing. She took a long sip of her whiskey tea. “I’m, you know—fine.”

“You
seem fine.”

“I
am.”

“And
how is Abelas?”

“I’m
not sure,” said Sene. She shrugged and felt very suddenly like a long rug had
been pulled out from underneath her. That part of her past she still had not put
away, but she caught her footing quickly. “He came to see me, a little after I
saw you. I think he’s okay. He said he was going back to the Arbor Wilds for a
while.”

“Is
that where he is from?”

“No,”
said Sene, turning her mug on the surface of the bar. “No. It’s a long way from
where he’s from.”

Ameridan
sighed and nodded. She felt him beside her, breathing, right there, so
suddenly. She had been with him and beneath him and seen and felt him
naked inside of her, and yet still, his bigness surprised her. He had
never
been as tall as Solas, but he had these wide shoulders and long arms
that made
him seem massive across the chest. He sipped his whiskey. Somewhere
behind
them, the bard changed songs, but whatever she began to play, several of
the
patrons in the bar objected to loudly and with swear words. So she
stopped and started over fresh with a song called Winter’s Bone.

“So
you’ve been back at work then,” said Ameridan. “Is that difficult? Is it
boring?”

“What
are you doing here?” she said. This time, she was smiling though. She still
could not believe she was seeing him here, in this weird lonely tavern, far
away and lost in the Hinterlands. “This is so weird.”

“I
told you,” said Ameridan, smirking. “I came to see you.”

“Yeah,
but why?”

We saw a lantern far away in the cold, sang the bard. But no one
ever came. No one ever came.

Ameridan
shrugged, sipped his whiskey. “I was bored,” he said. “I felt like leaving the
Basin, seeing some place new. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“So
you went to Skyhold?”

“Yes.
Even without you in the picture, I have always wanted to visit. It’s an extraordinary
fortress.”

“Hmm,”
said Sene, grinning down into her mug. “So does this mean that you have not seen all you thought you wanted
from this life, Ameridan? Did you realize you’re not as old as you thought you
were?”

“Even
as an elf who has technically been 42 for 800 years, it’s hard to feel old,
Sene,” he said. “Particularly after meeting you, and learning all about your
history with elven men ten times my age.”

Sene
laughed.

“Besides,”
said Ameridan, finishing his whiskey, studying the glass, “It’s my birthday
next week.”

“Shut
up.”

“Indeed.
I am getting older. Actually, in my body. I have not done that in some time,
and it’s cold outside, and while the Frostback Basin is full of people who are
hilarious, and they tell great stories and worship for their weird gods, nobody
there really knows me. I just didn’t feel like being alone.”

Sene
stared at him. He was so full of feelings that he would just say, out
loud. And she understood what he meant. Still. It was like a dream that
he was there. That he had
appeared like this, in this hour of content. For a moment, she wondered.
Could
it be? The Fade? Solas, on his bullshit, giving her what she hoped for? A
visit
from a friend on a cold night in the Hinterlands. It’s something he
would have done, once.

The
bard sang on in her high voice. And if in
winter, I am alone, I remember your blessing. My love. But you are long gone.

“Is
this a dream?” she said to Ameridan, point blank. Her voice sounded strange
inside her own head. Like it was made of echoes.

Ameridan just looked amused. He shook his head. “No, lethal’lan,” he said. “I
don’t walk in dreams. I may be old, but I am still a new elf, like you. I am a
man of the world. Remember?”

She
thought hard about this, and then she thought about crying. It was a stupid
feeling out of nowhere. So she leaned a little, and put her head on his
shoulder instead. The bard finished her song. The barkeep came over to refill
their drinks. She felt Ameridan’s breath in her hair, his weight so close to
her, like this primal heat, and together they just sat there, quietly for a
while.

---

@dadrunkwriting

Mooooore plz.