Snowflake Challenge #11

[cinefarious]

In your own space, create a fanwork.


I decided to post a small wip.
Dragon Age Inquisition.
Felix/Cullen.
It's unedited, roughly 2800 words, and barely the set up to the relationship.



For Felix, Skyhold felt much like a waking dream. Perhaps because, when he arrived at it, he was deeply asleep and barely breathing.

He had done his best to walk the journey at Dorian’s side who was a nervous ball of energy. It felt good to be near him again and listen to him as he talked endlessly to fill his own uncomfortable silence. For the first day he did well. He held his own and put one foot in front of the other while doing his best to stay optimistic.

By day two he slowed, falling further and further behind. He felt no cold. The blight deadened his fingers and toes, and even on a normal day by the fire he felt chilled. The fatigue, however, was a monster nipping at his heels in the snow. Every bone in his body ached and cried out, and dizzy spells were so constant that Dorian had him keep a hand on one of the carts like a mother hen.

The last thing he remembered of their journey was Dorian pointing over the crest of the mountain towards a castle in the distance. Felix remembered his quiet awe rushing to greet him in tandem with waves of despair to see just how far away it still was.

“You know that blasted place is going to be freez-”

Felix was sure he was responding to Dorian, agreeing that the castle would be hard to heat, but the world occluded around him into a bright tunnel. The sensation was so familiar and his body welcomed it as he passed out cold, vaguely aware of someone catching him as he fell.

From there his memory was hazy at best. He remembered snowflakes drifting down and catching on his lashes while a huge gate loomed overhead like teeth. He vaguely remembered the cart he was in being wheeled into a stone surrounded courtyard and the sounds of tents and wounded. As he slept in and out he would occasionally hear Dorian crooning apologies and promises in his ear while tucking blankets around him, and in the background a deeper male voice issuing orders he couldn’t make out.

When he woke properly for the first time it was to the sound of cheering. Felix jerked awake, his eyes snapping open. He was no longer outside. Instead, he found himself in a small room, tucked into a bed. It smelled old and dirty, and the trail of dead leaves and dirt on the floor were proof enough the place hadn’t been cleaned in some time.

A fire crackled merrily from a small hearth, and Felix could hear the cheering far off outside the door grow yet more raucous. What was going on? Dorian must be with them, but he did spy a familiar staff by his bed as well as his travel comb and oils on a rickety table nearby. If he focused, Felix could just make out the scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

The old deep and festering pain reminded him that he was somehow alive. He had managed to survive the journey to the castle somehow, and as he slowly drifted off again he couldn’t help but agree with the unseen crowds that there was something worth cheering for.


----------

The magic Solas used on him left his body feeling like an orange. His skin felt stiff, thick, and too tight, barely holding in his insides that churned fleshy and too wet. Even the taste that lingered on the back of his tongue was sour and bright, calling to mind visuals of greenhouse flowers slithering up his throat to bloom whimsical and choking along his tongue.

It was rare to feel magic quite so vibrant and green. Tevinter mages tended to wear their magic aggressively; fiery palms that bled unnatural heat through clothing, icy stares as cold as the rings on their fingers even in the height of summer, ozone that licked at the hairs on the back of your neck and made your nose burn.

Even the magic his father used on him to keep his illness at bay had been sharp and serrated, violet claws digging for disease it would never be able to pull free and leaving the taste of metal and salt in his mouth when it was over.

The magic Solas used felt different in every way, and while he felt uncomfortable and strange under its effects, Felix could find no unkind words for it. If anyone had asked him where he had expected to be in this moment his answer would have been laughably simple. Felix would not be here. He would be gasping his final breaths into his father's shirt or going through funeral rites.

Instead...well, instead he felt like an orange. Felix could live with that. Would live because of that. It didn’t matter how many times Solas explained that there was no way to know if it would cure him or slow the effects. As far as Felix was concerned, it was already saving his life.

The mage had eagerly explained discovering the information for the combination of spells and medicines in dreams of long forgotten castles just like this one and combining that knowledge with different equally lost civilizations.

It was fascinating, and Felix held on to every word even as it felt like his veins pulsed backwards, and his stomach twisted until he was losing the contents of his breakfast into a bucket. Solas never paused, distracting him with stories until at last he was released with the promise to do it all over again tomorrow.

The beautiful thing was that tomorrow came. As did the day after it. And the day after that. The neverending sensation of crawling sickness lessened, unwinding its filthy fists and allowing Felix to finally feel something like tenuous optimism for the first time in years.


----------


For all that he was intelligent, Felix had the worst sense of direction. Skyhold felt like an unforgiving maze somedays, and more than once he had opened a door with the intent to go to the gardens or find Dorian in the library only to find a completely new room greeting him he hadn’t encountered before.

Today was shaping up to be one of those days.

He was just finished with his morning meeting with Solas, fresh magic filling him uncomfortably to the brim and making him feel nauseous and off center. The vial of medicine Solas had given him now lingered in his mouth with the flavor of soap and the bitterness of foul almonds.

The effects usually lasted two or three hours before tapering off, allowing him to feel somewhat normal, but mornings would always be difficult. He was resolved to go ask the cooks if there was mint available for tea, but when he opened the door in front of him a blast of icy wind whipped across his face and speared through his clothes.

Felix blinked in dumbfounded surprise, before falling into a helpless smile at his own error. It seemed like an exit onto the battlements. He stepped out, surveying the surroundings, taking note of the entrance to the great hall and the courtyard down below.

The one thing he seemed to have plenty of these days was free time, and Felix found himself walking down the battlement instead of back inside. The cold air was bracing, clearing some of the fog and dizziness from his mind.

He could see horses being prepared near the gates, Dennent securing saddles and barking orders for feed bags. Even from this distance he could make out the glowing green of the Inquisitor’s hand. It flashed and almost seemed to wink in his direction as the man worked his hair back into a strap, smirking wryly at something the Grey Warden said.

He would have to remember to ask Dorian what mission they were off on this time. Assuming Dorian wasn’t going to be accompanying them himself. He had always been a risk taker and too adventurous for his own good, but it still sat unhappily in his stomach to know his friend was so often putting himself in harm’s way. He was far too important to risk himself like that, but he knew arguing would only make the man do it on principle.

Felix shook his head to clear it, continuing along the battlement and admiring the snow covered mountains. He reached the door on the end, and he thought little of pushing it forward and stepping inside.

He expected another musty room full of boxes and plants crawling up the stone, but he was shocked to be met with warmth and the scent of breakfast meats. There were bookcases and a stately looking desk covered in neat stacks of scrolls, a large threadbare red rug giving color and warmth to the space.

And there, across the way and backlit from a second open door was a man. For a very small second Felix was positive it was a bear, but the bear turned to look over at the sound of the hinges, and Felix could then make out wavy blond hair and armor.

The Commander. Ah.

His face immediately blossomed crimson to realize he had brazenly walked right into what appeared to be the military commander’s office. Of course he was stationed here. It was close to the main building where the Inquisitor slept and near the barracks. If he had been paying any attention, he would have at least realized this tower was meant for something significant beyond simple storage.

“O-oh,” he said, his fingers curling against the side of the door, digging fragile nails into the wood grain. In his mind, he berated himself for having nothing else to say. He owed this man an apology for intruding at the very least. He felt stuck in place, the cold of the wind and snow at his back, and the strangely easy comfort of the office before him like a bounty.

The commander seemed equally unsure of what to say, and for a seemingly endless moment they stared one another down. It was Cullen who finally broke it, falling into an almost wry looking smirk and pressing his gloved hand to the sword at his waist in a way that looked comfortable instead of intimidating.

“Ah. Yes. You’re...Felix, correct?” he asked, and it was quite strange to realize that the voice he had heard while lying in the snow on the wagon was this man’s. “Apologies for not making your acquaintance earlier. Dorian speaks very highly of you, and I had every intention of making an introduction.”

It took great force of will not to simply repeat “Oh?” Felix swallowed that impulse and forced his back straighter to give the appearance of confidence. In the realms of academia he felt perfectly at home, but everything about his life now felt so incredibly unstable.

His silence seemed to have gone too long. Before he could respond the man’s face melted into a tight knit of concern. Lines in his face that had seemed barely visible at a glance creased deeper with the startling ease of making an expression a million times over.

“...How are you feeling?”

Felix was suddenly aware that his upright posture had sagged without his notice, and his grip on the door was tight enough his knuckles had gone pale. Fasta Vass. How many times could he embarrass himself in one conversation? Even calling it a conversation was giving himself far too much credit.

Determined to stop staring at this poor man like an idiotic deer, Felix offered him a shy smile. “I suppose you rather did see me at my worst,” he murmured, clearing his throat and forcing his gaze up to the Commander’s. It was dim in the room, but he was almost certain his eyes were a golden color. “Solas has been seeing to me. He says it’s too early to say, but my condition isn’t worsening. He’s an excellent mage. The Inquisition is better for having him.”

He hadn’t expected the flash of cranky irritation to flash across the man’s face, and it was so sudden and strange that he was positive he made a face back. If Cullen noticed, however, he made no show of it. The silence returned once again, only slightly less awkward this time around.

“Dorian speaks of you too," Felix offers, forcing a smile on his face to show his good humor. "Something about beating him at board games and not appreciating fine wine and the arts.” In truth, Dorian spoke about a great many people at night when they turned in for bed. He has listened raptly to stories of the Inquisitor, The Chargers, the lone Grey Warden, and the ex-templar Commander. Felix has had a difficult time keeping it all straight when he has mostly been on bed rest up until this week.

Luckily, his playfulness hit the mark, and the older man fell into a laugh that sounded gorgeously genuine, if rusty from lack of use. It sent a pleasant warmth to his stomach, that Felix clung to in satisfaction.

“That does sound like him. Between you and I, getting him to talk about you has been one of the best distractions. I’ve won several games by inciting your name, so I believe I have you to thank for that. I feel as if I owe you a drink when you are fit enough to have one.”

The words charmed him effortlessly. Felix found a bashful grin spreading across his face at the kind offer. It was unwise to be so excited about the prospect of..what...friendship? Even just companionship? For the longest time, he had only his father and the men he hired for protection. Even then, it was hard to reach out to others with the knowledge that you may not have much time with them.

Now it felt as if the world was wider and brighter, beckoning him forward with open arms that he still dared not believe could hold him. But a drink with a man who had done his level best to guide an awkward conversation and put him at ease felt like a gift he didn’t deserve, but couldn’t refuse.

For that reason, he found himself nodding and nervously digging his nails a little harder into the wood that was old and soft.

“I would like that. Very much,” he assured him, unable to keep his gaze in that moment. His eyes wandered away, landing on the ladder near Cullen’s shoulder and traveling up it to the ceiling. His brows furrowed to see a large whole up in the roof.

Construction was underway through the entirety of the castle, but Felix was surprised that the office of the commander seemed to be completely untouched by any builders. There wasn’t even a pile of lumber to suggest it would be worked on in the future. Strange. Snowflakes floated down, dusting the top few rungs of the ladder, and the draft from a particularly aggressive wind snaked down his collar and sent him shivering in an instant.

When he looked back down it was to see Cullen glancing up as well before his cheeks bloomed pink in the dim lighting. What was that? Was the commander blushing?

Before he could puzzle it out, the man was clearing his throat and shifting his stance in an agitated way. “Are you well enough to be out in the elements?”

The little ball of frustration and embarrassment that Felix hid in his chest tightened and spit at the question, but he forced a polite smile and shake of the head. “I couldn’t say. To be perfectly frank, it’s a strange joy to feel how cold my fingers are for the first time in years. And what it feels like to be properly hungry again. There are a great many human discomforts I am rediscovering these days. It’s been...wonderful.”

The smile that slid across his lips felt almost radiant, tamped with shyness and something that felt almost like flirtation. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked upon a man and felt heat burn in his stomach, but he was suddenly very aware that the commander was handsome. It felt unfair of him to even notice such a thing when the man had been so kind and formal, but Felix could not even care. It felt good to feel butterflies in his stomach once again after so many years. Cullen’s eyes went warmer and sweeter in response, looking very much like honey. Felix thought he could really use some breakfast now.

“I should leave you to your work. I apologize for stumbling into your office, but I am glad to have gotten the chance to meet you. Have a nice day, Commander.”

He left the office with his heart beating a healthy rhythm in his chest, and the abrupt cold that stung at his hot face felt exhilarating in the best way. Every beat shouted the same exuberant thought.

He was alive.

Comments

[nonesensed]

And I really appreciate you sharing it to be read! It's a very enjoyable read 💖💖💖