"I have someone for you to meet," Mythal says, her hand cupping Bellanaris' cheek, thumb tracing the vallaslin curling around her cheekbones.
"Is it someone about your…project?" she asks, glancing around to make sure no workers lingered. Mythal gives her a fond smile as she lets her hand drop.
"Yes, you could say that. Come, little one. He's waiting in the courtyard. You'll be partnered with him for a lot of missions, if you get on well," she says, taking Bellanaris' hand.
Bellanaris trails behind Mythal through the temple. It is new, the construction barely finished, and the workers linger for small and last-minute jobs.
The courtyard is empty, save for two workers and Solas. He stands with another man, talking animatedly, and then he puts his hand on the other man's shoulder. The man turns around and the whole world seems to stop.
Bellanaris finds herself walking forward without any intention to do so. The man meets her halfway, head tilted to the side. His lips are parted, mouth still open to finish whatever he'd been saying to Solas. She knows him, but she doesn't.
Mythal and Solas stand behind them, side by side, sly smiles on both of their faces. "I told you I was right, Mythal," Solas murmurs. She rolls her eyes at him, but she doesn't respond. She knows when she's beaten.
The man reaches out, putting his hand on Bellanaris' cheek. She lets out a soft keen, leaning into the touch. She feels whole, like she'd been missing an arm and hadn't realized it until she had it back. "My name is Lanaste. I think I've been looking for you for a very long time," he breathes, his thumb catching her tears and wiping them away. She steps closer before wrapping her arms around him, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder.
"I'm Bellanaris. I've missed you, and I hadn't even met you," she tells him, a laugh escaping her. She feels a tear roll down into her hair, and she tightens her grip around him.
Arya wakes up, tears streaking her cheeks. She wipes them off with the back of her hand, and takes in the light streaming through the windows. Lysander sleeps next to her, and although she distinctly remembers Cailan crawling in the bed with them both, he is gone. She disentangles herself from Lysander, slipping out of the bed. She finds a note on the end table.
Arya,
There was a meeting I had to get to, with Eldris and Alistair.
We thought you needed your sleep more than you needed to be there.
Love you.
-C
She shrugs, putting the paper back down and stretching. She was still tired, still sore, and now she felt the sharp ache of loss burrowing under her skin. She paces around the room, feeling trapped, before she pulls on a pair of pants under Cailan's shirt. They're a little too big, so she thinks they're someone else's, but she cinches them around her waist with a belt and flips the paper over. She leaves a brief note to Lysander, telling him where she'd gone, and then she slips her boots on before stepping outside.
The hallway looks the same as it always does, candles flickering along the walls. It's a stark change from the hallways of school, serving only to drive the point even further that she wasn't home, that she was halfway between making this her home. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to go back, but she felt lost and confused, stuck in an in between. In between Arya and Bellanaris, in between Thedas and Earth, in between who she is and who she wants to be.
Lysander finds her in the hallway. His clothes are still rumpled, his hair still messy, and it is clear that he had only just rolled out of bed and gone to look for her. "Didn't wanna be alone," he says, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She leans into his touch, suddenly desperate for it.
"We could go back to my room," she says, a faint smile on her face. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, pressing gentle kisses against her skin.
"Got anything particular for us to do in there, kitten?" he asks, and the familiar seductive purr is back in his voice. She remembers the promises he'd made, with that look in his eyes, in that voice that makes heat pool in the pit of her stomach.
"Only if you promise you're not doing it because you feel like you should," she says. He laughs, low in her ear.
"Only because we both need to feel good, kitten," he promises. She turns around in his arms, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"Then maybe you should make good on all those promises you made," she says, and he links their fingers together, leading her back through the hallways. It is seeming less and less like a labyrinth, and more and more like a home.
"All of them and more," he says, his voice doing the thing again, and she finds herself more than willing to let go of everything and get out of her head for a while.
She is the one who pushes the door open, leading the way inside. The bed is still rumpled, making it clear that none of the servants had come in to make the bed, and Lysander shuts the door behind them. She finds herself hesitating, suddenly, unsure of what to do. She'd forgotten that there were steps in between, now that the insistent heat wasn't there. She'd fallen into bed with plenty of people, but that had always been something of heated kisses and grasping fingers.
Lysander comes up behind her again, his hand splayed out across her stomach, underneath her shirt. His fingers tease the edge of her bra, not quite slipping underneath, but enough to make her want.
"Anything particular you want to try, kitten?" he asks, his breath skating down her spine and making her shiver. She shakes her head wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak. He chuckles again, stepping back and pulling her shirt off in one quick movement.
"You, uh, got anything in particular you want to do?" she asks, biting her bottom lip. He grins at her, leaning down to kiss her again. This kiss is different- open-mouthed and wet, his tongue tracing along the edges of her lips. By the time he has finished, heat is pooling in the pit of her stomach, and she feels like she could fall into his warm brown eyes.
"Not at first. But later, once we're all warmed up? I want you to ride me," he says, and there's nothing particularly dirty about the way he said it, but the look on his face and the huskiness of his voice is enough. She reaches out, hesitantly, and unlaces his breeches.
"Well. I think I want to suck your cock, on my knees, with your hands in my hair," she says, her voice dropping into a seductive purr. Suddenly-
"-I have you right where I want you, Abelas," she purrs, her fingernails scraping against the scarred expanse of his torso.
"Oh? Then perhaps I should turn the tables," he answers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In the space between breaths, he dispels the spell Bellanaris had used to bind his hands, flipping them over easily. She laughs as she lands on her back, her fingers splaying across his thighs to hold him steady.
"Maybe you should punish me. Push me on my knees on the ground and takemy mouth," she suggests, a glint in her eyes. They've barely gotten started, and already she's wet and waiting for him to slip inside her, to fuck her into the bed until all thoughts of the Evanuris vanish.
"Is it a punishment if you enjoy it?" he asks, amusement laced in his tone, but he rolls to his feet and pulls her with him in one fluid motion. He pushes her down on her knees and gathers her hair in his hands. She eagerly pulls the trousers off, headless of the fine silk they were made with.
"I think you can make it one," she says, her hands stroking his cock. He's half hard already, and she parts her lips and takes the head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. Abelas groans, pushing her moutjh further down his cock, and-
When Arya comes back to herself, she finds that only a heartbeat has passed. Lysander's eyes have barely had time to furrow in concern.
She finds, suddenly, that she is sick of this. Sick of the concerned looks shot her way, sick of the questions people ask. She is not made of spun glass- she will not shatter because there are lifetimes of memories in her head.
She pulls him down into a kiss that is all tongue and teeth, nipping at his bottom lip. She can feel him against her thigh, getting hard.
"I change my mind," she says. He raises an eyebrow, a silent question that she doesn't answer with words. Instead, she pulls her breeches off, letting them pool on the floor next to her shirt. Lysander reaches for her, but she dances backwards until her knees hit the edge of the bed. She takes a moment to pull her bra off and throws it across the room, before her panties follow. She lets herself fall onto the mattress, then, and then she spreads her legs. The air is cool against her.
Arya puts two fingers in her mouth and sucks, and Lysander finds his heart in his throat. She pulls them out of her mouth with a pop and a wicked look on her face, trailing her hand down her neck. She stops to pinch and pull at her nipple, a soft moan escaping her mouth before her hand continues the journey down the soft skin of her stomach.
She cups her hand over her mound, teasing herself just as much as she is him. "I want you to watch me touch myself," she says, breathily. Just knowing that he's standing there watching her, with that heat in his eyes, is enough to make her wet.
"I think I can manage that, kitten," he answers, oddly breathless. His cock is tenting in his breeches now. She slides two fingers inside of her and thinks about how it would feel to have him inside her instead, thrusting into the wet heat of her cunt. She lets out a long, low moan, grinding the heel of her hand against her clit, her eyes slipping shut.
She jumps when she feels hands on her hips, her eyes snapping open and her hand slowing. It's just Lysander, now just as naked as she is.
"I'm gonna have to put a bell on you. You scared the hell out of me," she says, laughing. He chuckles, tipping her head back to kiss her.
"Ready to move on, or do you want to keep tormenting me?" he asks as he pulls back, his breath skating down her spin and making her shiver.
"As much fun as it would be to torment you, I want you inside me," she murmurs. Lysander lets himself fall back against the pillows as Arya turns, straddling him.
The anticipation has her dripping. He reaches up to steady her as she reaches down to guide his cock inside her, sinking down slowly. Even though she's wet, even though she'd taken two fingers, the stretch of it burns deliciously.
She has just reached the end of his cock, breathless as she tries to adjust to the feeling of him inside of her, when the door opens.
Cailan stands there, his brain taking a moment to catch up with what his eyes are seeing. Arya turns back to Lysander, and he meets her eyes with a silent question in his gaze. Slowly, she nods.
"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to come join us?" he asks. Cailan steps into the room, the door falling shut behind him. He fumbles with it behind his back until the click of the lock is heard.
When Arya starts to move her hips, lifting herself up so Lysander's cock and glide in and out of her, Cailan makes a sound like he might die.
"Aw, look at him, Ly. He's not getting any attention," Arya says, her voice sugary sweet. Lysander's hand leaves her thigh to swat her ass, making her gasp and then moan, grinding down on his cock.
"And you're doing all the work. Maybe he should get over here and give you a reward," he says. Cailan squeaks, and Arya giggles. There's an awkward moment of shuffling where Lysander spins her around, his cock still inside her, until she's face Cailan.
Lysander sits up, pulling her against him until her back is against his chest. "What sort of reward?" she asks, breathless. Cailan's eyes are trained on the place where they're joined, Lysander rocking inside her with short strokes.
"Come and lick her cunt. Anora told me you never offered to do it for her," he says, meeting Cailan's eyes. Hesitantly, the king shuffles forward, crawling onto the bed until he's kneeling between Lysander's legs.
"Please, Cailan? I want to feel your tongue," she whimpers. The king's movements are slow and unsure as he lays down on his stomach, his breath fanning across her skin. If something doesn't happen soon, Arya thinks she might die.
"Go on, then," Lysander encourages, and Arya tangles her hands in Cailan's hair. The first swipe of his tongue against her clit almost makes her scream. Lysander takes that as a cue to shift backwards, his hands on Arya's hips as he starts to lift her, fucking her properly.
Cailan's inexperience is almost endearing. It is obvious that he doesn't know what he's doing, but with Lysander's cock stretching her, fucking into her with harder and deeper thrusts, his tongue on her clit is sending her hurtling towards the edge.
"Yes, please, please don't stop," she begs, almost incoherent. Lysander chuckles in her ear, speeding up. With her hands tangled in Cailan's hair and her movement limited, Arya is forced to take what they give her.
Cailan inches closer, the tip of his tongue swirling around her clit. It's the sweetest sort of torment she could imagine. "Faster, please, harder, fuck, yes, just like that," she whines.
It is a hard lick across her clit and a particularly deep thrust that pushes her over the edge. Arya screams, squirting her come across Cailan's face. He flinches away, eyes wide with surprise, but Lysander fucks her through the orgasm until she's a whining mess.
"How much longer can you go, kitten?" Lysander asks, his voice low in her ear. Arya is caught somewhere between overstimulated and please never stop.
"Please, please, please," she begs, and she doesn't know what she's begging for anymore, only that the pleasure borders on pain and if it doesn't end soon she will fall over the edge again.
"If you ask so nicely," he says, and then he starts to really fuck her, his moans making her blush to the tips of her ears. A few moments later and he tips over the edge, cock twitching inside her as he comes. She rests against him for a moment as he starts to soften inside her. When she can move her legs again, she rolls off of him.
"Fuck," she says, eloquently, and Cailan's quiet laugh turns their attention back on him.
"I'm sure you enjoyed the show. Let me take care of you, now," Lysander purrs, nudging Cailan until he rolls over and climbing between his legs.
He looks like he plans on devouring the king. Arya sidles up behind Cailan, her arms wrapping around him and her chin resting on her shoulder.
"Let him make you feel good," she says, and Cailan nods. It's all the encouragement Lysander needs as he slips Cailan's cock into his mouth, tongue tracing patterns on his skin, his hands stroking whatever isn't in his mouth.
It only takes a few moments before Cailan is falling apart. Lysander pulls back, stroking Cailan's cock, until Cailan cries out and paints Lysander's face with his come. They sit there in the silence for a moment.
"You look good in white," Arya says, and Lysander swats at her as he laughs.
"That was…that was something," Cailan says, a faint smile on his face as Lysander rolls off the bed, pulling his shirt off the floor and using it to wipe his face.
"That was better than I expected. Feel free to walk in on me more often," Lysander says, winking at Cailan, who flushes all the way down his chest.
"I actually needed to ask you a question," the king says, mind going back to the business at hand.
"Oh?" Lysander asks. Arya sprawls out on her back, one arm under her head as she watches them. Lysander moves around the room, pulling his clothes back on, although he discards his soiled shirt entirely and doesn't bother to lace his breeches.
"The men will be leaving for Orzammar tomorrow. Loghain insists I stay here. Would you go with them, in my stead?" Cailan asks. Arya holds her breath. She knows it will help if Lysander goes, knows his quick thinking and skills as a rogue will serve them well. She doesn't like the thought of Lysander in the Deep Roads, though.
"Of course. I'll go wherever I'm needed, now that Howe's taken care of. And maybe by the time I get back, anything of that sort will have blown over," he says.
"Promise me you'll be careful," Arya says, pushing herself off the bed and going to take Lysander's hands in her own. He leans down to kiss her, pulling her against him.
"I promise, kitten. It'll take much more than some darkspawn in the Deep Roads to kill me," he promises. She isn't so reassured, but she would cut off her own hand before she tries to stop him.
"I suppose that means you need to go get ready to leave," she says, heaving a sigh. Lysander grins, kissing her again before stepping back and finding another shirt to pull on.
"Unfortunately. But at least I have a very fond memory to look back on while I'm gone," he says, with a wink. She scoffs, watching as he takes a few moments to make sure he doesn't look too disheveled before ducking out into the hallway, whistling a tune as he goes to his own bedroom.
Cailan reaches for her wordlessly, and Arya curls up against him. It's comforting, to be held like this, her head tucked under Cailan's chin. They stay like that until Cailan pulls himself away, another meeting he has to attend.
The waiting is always the worst part, Eldris decides. There is nothing left for him to do. He has repacked his back several times over, with enough provisions to get them to Orzammar and everything else he would need. He feels wrong in the palace, as well. He was used to towering trees and wind blowing through the branches, babbling brooks with glittering fish. He wants to scale trees again, wants to race through the forest with his sister ahead of him and his boyfriend behind him.
He finds that he misses home. With a sigh, he pulls a hooded traveling cloak on, double checking the knives in his boots, before he slips out of the palace and onto the streets of Denerim.
He skirts the edges of the marketplace. He didn't come here to shop, and he doubts there's anything he wants anyway.
There's a single guard standing by the alienage entrance. He starts to question him, but Eldris pulls his hood back far enough to show off the points of his ears and the guard leans back against the wall.
The alienage is dominated by a massive tree in the center. It is dirty and dank, houses crammed together. His heart hurts for his People that are kept in such conditions. There are enough here that they could make a dozen small clans. He wishes he could help them do it.
He finds a redheaded woman standing underneath the tree, looking up at the branches. Her hair is pulled back in several braids to keep it out of her face. He stops beside her.
"Who are you?" the woman asks. He pulls his hood down and turns to her with a smile, taking in the way her eyes widen as she catches sight of the vallaslin on his face.
"I am Eldris, of Clan Mahariel. I'm leaving the city tomorrow, but I thought I'd offer my assistance while I was here. We need to stick together," he says, relaxing in a way he never has around the humans of the camp.
"Well, Eldris of Clan Mahariel. It's good to see a Dalish taking an interest in helping. Most would just call us flat-ear and be on their way. We need a lot- coin, food. Buildings need to be repaired," she says, her hands on her hips as she turns to survey the buildings of the alienage.
"I have ten sovereigns I can spare," he says, holding out a coin pouch. The woman's eyes light up as she takes it from him. She looks at him like he hung the moon in the sky.
"This…you don't know how this will help us, Eldris. Ma serannas," she breathes, pulling him into a hug. He's so surprised that he just stands there for a moment, before his arms wrap around her in return.
"It is time we Dalish stop ignoring the Elvhen left to rot in the alienages," he says, giving her another smile as she pulls back.
"We certainly appreciate it. This can do so much for us," she breathes, looking again at the coin pouch with reverence in her eyes.
"Of course, lethallan. When I return in the spring, I will bring more. I suspect I will be here longer, as well, so I can help with more physical things as well," he says. The elven girl cannot stop smiling.
"I'll hold you to that, Eldris," she says, carefully tying the coin pouch to her belt.
"I look forward to it. I should head back, but before I do…what's your name?" he asks, already turning to go, looking over his shoulder.
The elven woman has a mischievous glint in her eyes, like she's thinking about keeping it to herself. After a moment, she answers.
"Shianni. My name is Shianni," she tells him.
Eldris's steps are lighter as he returns to the palace.