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peopleofthedas2011-02-06 09:16 pm
valiasedai) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-02-06 09:16 pm
Entry tags:
Where We Stand - Chapter 16
Thanks to decantate for running over this, despite her busy schedule <3
Chapter: 16 - Time
Characters: Erise Caron, Varel
Summary: Time brings change and depth to Erise and Varel's relationship.
Over at FF.net
Spring tumbles to summer, then autumn, where the weather seems to linger. The Vigil is stitched together with mortar and granite, the masons slowed by the odd night of freezing rain. Winter arrives abruptly, with a singly marvelous night and day of snow that softens the sharp corners of fresh-hewn stone.
Steam rises from the training yard, off of bodies and out of mouths, as the Wardens duel each other. The rogues dart and spin while the warriors defend and attack with a steady, deadly patience.
Erise watches them, smiling when three or four group together, shifting and fighting around the humming in their blood. There are thirteen now, besides herself, and only four names grace the slim stone post that stands watch over bones and ashes.
She claps her hands and the fighters slow. Thirteen pairs of eyes settle on her. Their breaths puff from their cheeks and she smiles. They are her Wardens.
********
He is almost asleep when she shifts off of him with a quite noise of discontentment. The cool night air is startling after the heat of her skin and he tugs the blankets over his chest.
She kisses him lightly before pressing her forehead to his. "Good night."
Varel tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her mouth against his, nibbling at her bottom lip until she sighs against his mouth.
"Stay the night."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I must be up early."
He knew the answer before he asked; the words are almost a ritual between them now.
She dresses quietly before slipping out the door and shutting it with a soft click. Varel stares at the slats of wood while he turns three words over in his head.
In the end, he decides they are better kept to himself.
*******
Erise's jaw is stiff and sore by the time her fourth Landsmeet is finished. The nobles (aside from the king and queen) are all careful not to confront her directly, and the king and his queen are generous hosts.
Whispers follow her everywhere.
She is the cousin of the Empres, no, her sister, sent to claim the lost lands for Orlais. More still have her training darkspawn to conquer Ferelden, and another has her trying to bed the king. Worst of all (to the whisperers) are the ones which are true: her mother left Ferelden for her father; she is respected, but not loved; she is bedding her steward, a commoner.
The room at the palace is very fine, but the next day she leaves for home.
*******
She seeks out his bed upon her return, and when he asks her to stay, she does.
He so desperately wants to say something, but he stays silent, and a new word joins three.
Why?
He doesn't ask, and she doesn't explain, but she no longer leaves his bed before dawn.
*******
Months later, on a late night when she comes to his bed for sleep and the comfort of his presence, the three words slip out against her hair.
She tenses and he can hear her draw a sharp, short breath.
"Pardon?"
"I love you." The words, so long restrained inside his head, feel strange and new in his mouth.
Erise rolls to face him with a frown. "You should not say such things."
He swallows hard. "It's been five years –"
"And I have five more left, at best."
His skin prickles and feels uncomfortably tight, and it is only now he sees the quiver of her jaw and hears the waver in her voice.
"That doesn't matter."
Her gaze settles on his chin. "Doesn't it?"
There are a dozen things he can say: that it does matter, because he loves her; that he loved her knowing he'd outlive her; that he does his best to forget how little time they have before the Taint claims her.
The words well at the back of his throat, eager to spill out, and he covers her mouth with his instead. She clings to him as tears run down his cheeks and he pours his desperation into the kiss.
When he breaks away, he whispers that he loves her as she shakes quietly in his arms.
Her breathing settles sometime later, when his own tears are finished and his tunic is damp between them.
She shifts and strokes his hair with trembling fingers. "I love you, too." Her voice is hoarse and faint, and the words are beautiful.
decantate for running over this, despite her busy schedule <3Chapter: 16 - Time
Characters: Erise Caron, Varel
Summary: Time brings change and depth to Erise and Varel's relationship.
Over at FF.net
Spring tumbles to summer, then autumn, where the weather seems to linger. The Vigil is stitched together with mortar and granite, the masons slowed by the odd night of freezing rain. Winter arrives abruptly, with a singly marvelous night and day of snow that softens the sharp corners of fresh-hewn stone.
Steam rises from the training yard, off of bodies and out of mouths, as the Wardens duel each other. The rogues dart and spin while the warriors defend and attack with a steady, deadly patience.
Erise watches them, smiling when three or four group together, shifting and fighting around the humming in their blood. There are thirteen now, besides herself, and only four names grace the slim stone post that stands watch over bones and ashes.
She claps her hands and the fighters slow. Thirteen pairs of eyes settle on her. Their breaths puff from their cheeks and she smiles. They are her Wardens.
********
He is almost asleep when she shifts off of him with a quite noise of discontentment. The cool night air is startling after the heat of her skin and he tugs the blankets over his chest.
She kisses him lightly before pressing her forehead to his. "Good night."
Varel tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her mouth against his, nibbling at her bottom lip until she sighs against his mouth.
"Stay the night."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I must be up early."
He knew the answer before he asked; the words are almost a ritual between them now.
She dresses quietly before slipping out the door and shutting it with a soft click. Varel stares at the slats of wood while he turns three words over in his head.
In the end, he decides they are better kept to himself.
*******
Erise's jaw is stiff and sore by the time her fourth Landsmeet is finished. The nobles (aside from the king and queen) are all careful not to confront her directly, and the king and his queen are generous hosts.
Whispers follow her everywhere.
She is the cousin of the Empres, no, her sister, sent to claim the lost lands for Orlais. More still have her training darkspawn to conquer Ferelden, and another has her trying to bed the king. Worst of all (to the whisperers) are the ones which are true: her mother left Ferelden for her father; she is respected, but not loved; she is bedding her steward, a commoner.
The room at the palace is very fine, but the next day she leaves for home.
*******
She seeks out his bed upon her return, and when he asks her to stay, she does.
He so desperately wants to say something, but he stays silent, and a new word joins three.
Why?
He doesn't ask, and she doesn't explain, but she no longer leaves his bed before dawn.
*******
Months later, on a late night when she comes to his bed for sleep and the comfort of his presence, the three words slip out against her hair.
She tenses and he can hear her draw a sharp, short breath.
"Pardon?"
"I love you." The words, so long restrained inside his head, feel strange and new in his mouth.
Erise rolls to face him with a frown. "You should not say such things."
He swallows hard. "It's been five years –"
"And I have five more left, at best."
His skin prickles and feels uncomfortably tight, and it is only now he sees the quiver of her jaw and hears the waver in her voice.
"That doesn't matter."
Her gaze settles on his chin. "Doesn't it?"
There are a dozen things he can say: that it does matter, because he loves her; that he loved her knowing he'd outlive her; that he does his best to forget how little time they have before the Taint claims her.
The words well at the back of his throat, eager to spill out, and he covers her mouth with his instead. She clings to him as tears run down his cheeks and he pours his desperation into the kiss.
When he breaks away, he whispers that he loves her as she shakes quietly in his arms.
Her breathing settles sometime later, when his own tears are finished and his tunic is damp between them.
She shifts and strokes his hair with trembling fingers. "I love you, too." Her voice is hoarse and faint, and the words are beautiful.