It’s here! In person or you know what I mean. :D.

giggles

fallen-lights:

The Red Cloak

Commissioned painting - watercolor, ink and coffee on tea stained paper

I may often have trouble with commissions, but this is one that has gone absolutely right. I LOVE Laura’s art and this piece is so lovely. She was able to capture the desolation of the forest, and the harshness of their first meeting on the road. The fact that this is a physical thing coming into my hands next week, makes it even better. An awesome thing like this makes me wish that “Of Wolves” was a thing that could be published, so this could be used as the cover art, because it is absolutely perfect.

Fic: Like I Bleed - H is for Honor

Letter H in Teagan’s world, from the War is Never Cheap Here universe. (Letter G is here.)  Links to Teagan’s letter “H”s from all three alphabets on AO3 are at the bottom. 

This is also another one of the letters where the word is the same for all three of Teagan’s alphabets (WAR, Blight, Romance).  Enjoy!

Also spoilers for WAR if you haven’t read it.

——

H is for Honor

Cauthrien,

Perhaps it is wrong of me to admit this, but I had considered not writing you back.  It was not because I was unhappy, because I am indeed thrilled by your news.  It was not because I was not eager to respond, because daily I curse the miles between us.  It was only a moment, albeit a small one, where it occurred to me that you might be more content were I not to interfere.

There are not words enough, nor indeed the ink to write them will, to express how happy I -was- am, to know what our month together has brought us.

Currently, I am in Redcliffe with Eamon and Isolde, trying to explain to them, what I cannot even explain to myself- that I want nothing more than to come to Denerim and see you with my own eyes.  To hopefully convince you, if you have not already made your own decision, that there is and will always be a place for you and for our child in Rainesfere.

I know that duty and honor keep you bound to the Queen and I -would- could not ask you to do any less than what your heart leads you to do.  I am writing in the hopes that this letter reaches you before I do, that you know my interest and intentions and that they can better inform the decisions you make.

When my visit here in Redcliffe is complete, I hope to ride for Denerim.  And though that means there are still weeks between us, I am eager to put them and the miles behind me.

With my deepest regards,
Teagan

—

He signed his letter when a brief hesitation, regards no matter how deeply he could state them in a letter, were not enough.  With his signature and then a seal added to the parchment he pushed away from the desk and made his way to find a messenger.  Barring trouble in Redcliffe or Rainesfere, he intended to arrive within a few days of the letter.  It was better than sending nothing at all, and by now, she had to be expecting some word from him.

Teagan could only hope this would suffice in his absence.

——

AO3 Links

WAR: Like I Bleed - H is for Honor

Blight: Like I Wait - H is for Honor

Romance: Like I Feel - H is for Honor

Fic: Like I Bleed - G is for Grave

Letter G in Teagan’s world, from the War is Never Cheap Here universe. (Letter F is here.)  Links to Teagan’s letter “G”s from all three alphabets on AO3 are at the bottom. 

Also spoilers for WAR if you haven’t read it.

——

G is for Grave

It was a simple thing: her name and the year, and hard, cold stone. 

Edlyn
9:30 Dragon

Teagan wondered if years from then, people would find the headstone of a young woman, dead in the year of the Dragon and assume she was another causualty of the war.  Or if Edlyn, who everyone said had lived with her head in the clouds; if perhaps she would like to be remembered that way.  A victim of the Blight: something large and courageous and not just the wayward dreams of a young girl.  After all, not many people could afford a headstone at all.  Just mounds of earth, and a prayer.

“The Light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world, and into the next.”

Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something Teagan could do, a small provision for the family.  He visited them twice before he left, once to make sure all the arrangements had been taken care of, once to see the stone had been placed and to offer his own respects.  They had her braid tacked to one of the walls just inside their house, were quiet and reserved, and served him tea as though he were any other visitor.  The haunted look in their eyes had not left, but the edges were softer, they spoke- even if their words were quiet, reserved.  Teagan could not stand to stay with them for long, or to return after the stone had finally been placed.

Death, and the remembrances of the Blight were everywhere, no matter how much the cheer in his heart blocked out the worst of his memories.  In the courtyard at Eamon’s, his brother had commissioned a memorial, something to remember the men and women from Redcliffe that had lost their lives to the Blight and the protection of his family.  It was no small thing, but no amount of stone and prayer would replace what had been lost.  Families like Edlyn’s knew that just as well as any survivors of the Blight.

——

AO3 Links

WAR: Like I Bleed - G is for Grave

Blight: Like I Wait - G is for Gloaming

Romance: Like I Feel - G is for Gold

Fic: Unrepentant [Cauthrien/Mhairi]

A birthday present for theivorytowercrumbles. 

——

A month after the royal wedding, though Mhairi was far from Denerim, she found herself unable to shake the city and all it held from her thoughts.  She had taken no souvenirs from the celebrations around the city during the wedding festivities, only her memories of a quiet morning in the palace training yard.  That memory was longer-lasting than the trinkets others had taken away.  At night safely tucked in a bedroll, she allowed herself a few flights of fantasy, dreams that her unit might be called back to the city and assigned something closer to the palace.  Mhairi knew there was little chance that anything had changed in life or would change; there would be no grand declarations, but dreaming there could be, did little harm.  

That was her life: her dreams.  She used them to push her through each day, caught in a web of the things that could be, the greatness of others that had been, the freedom of what was to come.  At night, her dreams were more mundane, full of lovely faces, soft sighs and her own wandering fingertips between her thighs.

Most days, Mhairi likes to think she’s a different type of woman.  That she’s the type of woman that can walk away. She’s done it before many times, walked away from her life or a lover to find a new one.  Nothing lasts but names, she thinks, not even the fond memories of times she’s spent in another’s arms.  Not even if that person is Ser Cauthrien.  She told herself that if she tried hard enough, thoughts of dew-covered grass and the feel of sweat-slicked flesh would go away, and leave her far behind.

A second month goes by and the memories have not faded.  The makeshift training yard that travels with them has become her solace, both an escape from and reminder of, that specific morning, still vivid in her mind. She exhausted herself when there was little else to do, hoping to chase the memories away.  But, she ached with the remembered hunger of that morning, and found little comfort in training or marching, or anything that didn’t end with a pleasant and overwhelming release at her own hands.

She wondered, in those times she spends late at night, breathing quietly under her blanket, where Ser Cauthrien might be.  Was she too tucked away, ready for sleep?  Did her eyes close and unbidden, trace the path of Mhairi’s body from vivid memory?  Hers did.  She remembered the impact of the small shield broken on her arm, the way the knight’s arms encircled her as they both fell to the ground, and how her clothes were only the briefest of deterrents for the other woman’s eager hands.

As the third month neared, her unit was camped near Redcliffe as the work with the Arl and trained up new men and women for neighboring villages.  And Mhairi was realizing that time was not helping.  It only made the longing worse, and she did something she thought she would never do.  She penned a letter to the knight, in the hopes she might exorcise Cauthrien from her thoughts.

Ser Cauthrien,

It has been three months, nearly to do the day, since the royal wedding.  Though, if I am to send this, it might well be more by the time you receive this letter.  I hope this letter finds you in good health, and please forgive my presumption that you might concern yourself with this letter at all.

I am writing to thank you.  My time in Denerim was brief, but has proved to be an entirely persistent and incredibly fond memory.  Thank you, for that.  Should you find yourself near Redcliffe in the future, I would hope to see you. 

Perhaps I could also hope that you might see me again were I near Denerim?  Not as that seems likely. The word is that we will be here, for sometime time.

So, from Redcliffe I wish the Maker’s blessings on you,
Yours in service,
Mhairi

It was another week before she worked up the courage to have the letter sent to Denerim.  In that week, she read it over several times.  There was nothing in it that might mean anything significant to any other reader, though she worried over her word choice several times.  In the end she decided to send it anyway, with a rapidly scrawled addition before she handed it over:

As First Day approaches, please accept the attached, sent with my gratitude and admiration.
Mhairi

Wrapped in a bright cloth and sent with the letter, she included a small statue of Andraste.  She was not normally one for such sentimentality, but the statue called to her in a way that reminded her of the way Sweet Andraste had been whispered in her ears.  She could think of little better way to show her affection than with that gift.  Flowers would wilt, and Cauthrien did not seem the type for brightly colored baubles or jewels.  Armor would have been appropriate, but would not have been greater than what the woman wore already.

With the letter sent, her mind eased somewhat, enough that she could see to her training without less distraction. (Two weeks to Denerim, two weeks back, barring inclement weather, her mind calculated the trip, on the event there was to be a letter in return.) At least for a month.  She could wait for anything that long.

——

AO3 Link

Unrepentant

serindrana:

Courtesy of one amazing Cherith!

Sometimes I see a love meme and Teagan demands some brain space.  (But when doesn’t he anymore?)