About

I'm Nir and this is my writing dump. I read and write lots of slash and femslash. Most of my posts will be fanfics, but there might be the occasional piece of original fiction, or even character profiles. Fics are tagged by characters, pairings, and fandoms, so check my tags page if you're looking for anything specific. Layout credits are in my profile.
vethrfolnir: (✜ sun sets on this world)
[personal profile] vethrfolnir
Title: Braid
Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Characters: Dorian Pavus, Cadenza Lavellan
Pairings: Dorian/Cadenza
Notes: Inquisitor Lavellan's hair is getting out of hand.

“Cadenza, darling…” Dorian began, twining his fingers in his lover’s hair. Cadenza was lying supine in his lap, eyes closed, breath light, but Dorian knew better than to believe he was asleep; the telltale twitch of his long, pointed ears gave him away. As if realizing he’d been caught, Cadenza’s eyes flew open, a brow raising with them.

Darling?” Cadenza snorted. “Have you been talking to Vivienne lately?”

“I have, in fact, and I’m sure she would agree with me on the dreadful state of your hair.” Dorian replied as his fingers snagged on brilliant red knots. He went to work untangling them, tsking quietly all the while. “Such a beautiful color, and you’ve gone and let it turn into a nug’s nest.”

Cadenza grimaced. “Yes, well. You’re always talking about how southerners don’t know anything about proper hygiene. I suppose it’s finally rubbed off on me.”

“You must do something about it. Cut it, perhaps?”

“No.”

Red spooled down Cadenza’s cheek, against the vallaslin. Dorian had traced the golden vines many times before, in that hazy, sleep-soaked afterglow where he said stupid things about love, his slow, trembling fingertips looping circles below one brilliant blue eye. Dorian never had to brush his hair back to see it before. When he first met Cadenza, the elf’s hair was cut sharply at the nape of his neck. Now, it was long enough to reach his shoulders.

Dorian sighed. “You’re right. That would be a waste.”

Cadenza closed his eyes, humming in agreement. Dorian’s hand wandered from his hair to his ear, tugging on the lobe, and he was satisfied to see Cadenza’s lips tilt up in a smile.

“A braid, then.” Dorian decided. “To keep it out of the way.”

Cadenza groaned, though his smile hadn’t faded. “I can already feel your hands tingling at the idea.”

“Of course! Let me work my magic, amatus. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be the crown jewel of the Inquisition.”

“As if there were ever any doubt?”

“Not in my eyes, certainly.”

“You’re awfully sappy today.” He said, but the expression that spread across his face felt something like magic, and Dorian was glad Cadenza couldn’t hear the thought – and that he wasn’t drunk enough to say it, from pleasure or otherwise. Instead, Dorian replied, “You have that effect on me. It’s dreadful. Please stop.”

While Dorian wove together two long, red locks, Cadenza opened one eye. “And miss this? No, thank you.” He smirked. “Besides, I think prefer your puppy eyes over the time you set the bedsheets on fire.”

“We still haven’t confirmed that was me.” Dorian sniffed. “We’re both mages here, and as I recall, you’re the one who likes to throw fireballs around.”

It probably was him; Dorian remembered the excitement coursing through his veins as they moved together, a synergy of magic and motion, Cadenza’s gasps soaring like a song. Poetry, until his arse was singed. But it was better to pretend he didn’t know that, and Dorian doubted the fire would have gotten so big without Cadenza’s help, anyway.

Cadenza was asleep well before Dorian finished putting his errant hair in a braid, and this time, his slumber was genuine, as he didn’t respond to Dorian addressing him by running down his list of titles, from ‘Inquisitor’ to 'amatus’. For awhile, Dorian wasn’t sure what Cadenza thought of it. He said nothing against Dorian fiddling with his hair at night, but said nothing more when he was done. It was only when Dorian found Cadenza idly stroking the braid after yelling at a new recruit, his scowl melting into something softer, did he realize the gesture was appreciated.

“Damned city elves,” Cadenza muttered, watching the boy’s retreating back with an expression he probably thought was a glare. The recruit seemed young despite his white hair. Cadenza watched him scramble to Josephine’s office and through the Great Hall, his hands still on the braid, tracing the plaits Dorian had made the night before. He sighed. Letting it fall against his cheek, Cadenza strode up to the boy to give him what sounded like a much calmer explanation of his duties, and Dorian bit back a smile.