Another voice post from me. This time I’m reading minorearth’s The First Taste, written for the Women of Dragon Age Challenge. (It’s Amell/Anora, and lovely.)
So, here’s the fanmix that accompanies the fic I posted last night (stupidly early this morning): Love is the Real Disease [Cullen/f!Amell] for Sholvakree. Full of angst.
Download the Mix (right click, save as please)
HAPPY (angsty) VALENTINE’S DAY! <3 <3 <3 <3
Love is the Real Disease
A valentine’s day gift for Sholvakree [Cullen/Solana Amell]
“I knew an Amell once. She was a special woman. Never met her like again.”
“Solana, stop.” Cullen bends to put his hands on his knees so he can catch his breath. “Just. Hold. On.” He looks up at her with a grin, watches as she steps back towards him with smile as wide as his. His chest tightens and it’s not just that he’s winded, he’s fallen.
She bends down and reaches a hand out for one of his, slender fingers with tiny cuts from turning too many pages, wrap over his. “Have you had enough then?”
He nods and gulps down air before lifting himself back up, his back aches and he knows it shouldn’t, but it just doesn’t feel right without his armor. There’s a lightness in his shoulders that means moving is more free, and still strange and uncomfortable and twin slivers of pain slide down his arms. He slides his hand so that he can lace his fingers with hers. He pulls her close, his other hand finding its way to her jaw, rough fingertips over soft skin. Solana lets out a soft gasp as he leans in, her other hand against his chest where he knows she must feel the racing beat of his heart. With an exhale of the breath he’s been recovering, he kisses her.
xraineyx asked for anything Cullen/Amell as long as it wasn’t too sad. And man, I tried not to make this sad, but… these two. This hopefully, is a good compromise.
She wrote him letters after she left the tower. Well, she wrote him a letter when she arrived at Ostagar. That was the one letter that she actually sent.
There were others, stashed away in her bag and she had no time to finish them, wasn’t sure she ever would. And even if he’d gotten her first one, if he responded, where would he send them?
But, she held on to them, half-finished scraps of where she had been, who she had talked to, verses of the Chant that she repeated to herself at night when she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to keep control. He’s given her that, the Chant, the verses that she might turn to when she needed them most. Now she wrote them out in a letter, as a reminder of what they could’ve been had she not left that day with Duncan. If she hadn’t made the choice she had, to help a friend.
In one of them, there was even a promise to return.
He wrote her letters after she left, but he had no idea where to send them. Ostagar, he supposed, but that wouldn’t be permanent and then where?
And what would he say?
They were only a reminder of things he couldn’t have, of the life he wasn’t living. It served him no purpose, other than to give his mind a place to wander late nights on guard in the halls of Kinloch. It gave him a steadying place to anchor his thoughts when he missed her- when he wondered what could have been between them if she’d stayed. And the answer was nothing.
It was better, he reminded himself, if she wasn’t there at all. And if he wrote to her, it was a fantasy that he wrote to himself, where it could do no harm. He never kept them after he wrote them, little scraps of parchment got tossed in lanterns or fireplaces where no one could find them. He never wrote to her of what was happening in Kinloch and then it was too late to write her at all.
His last day in the tower, a letter arrived for him.