I like the idea of writing short fics for special occasions, so here's one for Guy Fawkes' Night. Falls into the Morgana Amell series. It's a little angsty for a "festival fic", but nevertheless... enjoy.
Festival fic:Fireworks
Anders sits, shivering, by the fire, looking up as Hawke sits next to him, bearing chestnuts; the sudden realisation of what date it must be brings back carefully-buried memories, and he shuts his eyes...
The smell of chestnuts, roasting on an open fire. Justice, still in a dead man's body then, standing near them.
He wonders if the seeds of an idea had started to form in his mind then, when he'd carried the ingredients into the vast dungeons of Vigil's Keep, for safety - he hadn't even allowed Pounce in there, much as he'd missed the little fellow. A little of that odd Tevinter powder here and there, a few flame spells, with wisps...
He emerged panting and with singed hair, carrying the little packages, seeing the curious look Morgana gave him as he walked into her office. He told her the plan, and her smile had grown as she listened. Her face fell slightly as she asked, "Are you quite sure this is safe?"
"You underestimate me, madam," he answered, grinning, and she seemed to relax. After a moment of consideration, she nodded.
The smell of the powder and the lights filled the air that night.
The "works of fire", as he called them, were nothing more than controlled explosions, but there was much staring from a few fully-grown, dignified Grey Wardens, Alistair even letting out a muttered "Maker's breath!" at the first explosion. Sigrun, especially, seemed to enjoy them, and even Nathaniel looked up from where he was roasting the chestnuts, eyes fixed on the colours, a hint of a half-smile tugging at his lips.
The highlight of the night, however, was the grin on Morgana's face, eyes sparkling in the firelight as she looked round at those he knows she loved then, and still does. "Jowan would have loved these," she murmured, something sad crossing her face, but then it lit up again; she turned, eyes on those around them, and he stifled the slight ache of envy as her gaze lingered on Alistair. "They're lovely. Really. Thank you." Morgana had never really been a huggy person, he thought, so the sudden arm around his back was a surprise. As they watched the display, she added, quietly, "Thought of a catchier name?"
"Er..." He thought a little, and there was a moment of silence before he let out the quiet word, the thought occurring to him as he said it. "Fireworks. I think."
Of course, years later, a very different explosion would light the sky, bringing death rather than joy, but then...
Then, there was nothing but the warmth of the fire, the colours above him and his family.
