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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    from the pinnacle to the pit; leliana
    #1
    V u l g a r i S
    The children have reached the point where they believe themselves to be grown enough to leave their parents’ side. They come back when they’re tired or to settle arguments, but for the most part they’ve learned to rely on each other for company or stake out their independence. Part of him is relieved to have some alone time as he patrols the borders of Tephra but he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss them. Vulgaris had grown comfortable with Drache and Saint tailing him like glimmering shadows with eyes full of wonder. But they’ve outgrown his scary stories and his children’s games. They’re learning to live their own lives and he couldn’t be more proud.

    He enjoys the border between Tephra and Sylva best, he thinks, because the forest seems to hold a quiet mystery to it. He wonders what his former advisor is up to in there but he never steps over that line to seek her out. Maybe another day, he tells himself as the pine needles crunch under his hooves. Some part of him still yearns for the hot springs of Loess or the dessert flowers that bloomed so sweet in the spring rains. Some day he’ll have to go catch up with Castile and see just what the dragon king is up to. He used to find such comfort in having a friend with more scales than him.

    He steps over a cooled lava flow and he wonders if Leliana will ever be satisfied with how much of their kingdom she’s rebuilt. She slows only enough to permit her body the energy it needs for their baby and devotes entirely too much of herself to the lands. When she comes to sleep, he can hardly kiss her goodnight before she’s drifted off with her head against him. It worries him to see her push herself so hard but she wouldn’t be happy any other way, he thinks. Vulgaris would give anything to alleviate some of that burden from her shoulders but he has never had the magic to heal anything aside from himself, and he doesn’t even have that now.

    He pauses as he reaches the corner where Tephra, Sylva, and Taiga meet. He knows very well that Heartfire will never allow her territories to invade just as Castile and Starsin will not cross Tephran borders any time soon. Perhaps today he could spend the hours with his wife? Vulgaris hesitates briefly before wandering deeper into their home, toward the spring at the base of the volcano.
    In this shook-up, twisted world, I'm gradually growing transparent and vanishing
    Don’t look for me; don't look at me
    @[leliana]
    #2

    Their life has taken on a quiet, peaceful rhythm.

    If she has concerns about the political tensions outside of Tephra, or the information she has gathered through Heartfire, or the potential for all of this to come crumbling down around them, she doesn’t let it show. She doesn’t show her concerns or let it rise to the surface. She lets her magic compartmentalize for her, building walls around her fear and giving her the peace of mind to move forward with her life.

    It gives her these moments.

    These moments where she walks out next to Vulgaris as he is moving toward the volcano, her side brushing against his easily. She says nothing but leans against him, her cheek to his neck as they walk, the rest of Tephra muting around them as it boils down to just the two of them and the love that they share.

    The rest fades away and it, like it should be, is just them.

    She says nothing as they walk, her wings folding atop her back, the path opening up to give them easy access. Without thinking, she lets her magic flow out of her, seeping into the ground and healing it as they walk. Most of Tephra is now restored, but she cannot stop the desire to continue tending to it. To continue protecting it and imbuing it with the only kind of gift she really has: the gift of growth, of restoration.

    When they reach the spring, she dips her head down to drink her fill. Her stomach is now swollen with the coming life, but she is so used to such a thing now that it hardly phases her. It helps that she now has magic to make the process easier and she has no shame in protecting her child with it—in easing it.

    But that’s not what is on her mind today.

    She comes back to his side and presses a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth, to the place where the skin is like velvet. She lingers there, smiling, knowing that he will not love what she is about to ask.

    “Vul, I was never made to be Queen,” she is quiet as she tells him this.

    “But you were made to be King.”

    Her eyes are soft and confident as she studies him.

    “Please.”

    She knows he will understand.

    it's only you and me there until the darkness calls
    let's face the dawn together; we'll brave whatever comes

    #3
    V u l g a r i S
    He enjoys their quiet walks together as she continuously bleeds her magic into their home, giving it little pieces of herself to fill its gaps after the water shattered it. Maybe that’s why he’s come to love Tephra as much as he used to love Loess. The flowers smell like her breath when she laughs and the breeze always reminds him of their first kiss. It grants him peace that he did not know before she resurrected him from the volcanic ash. They are a perfect balance to one another now – vibrant red to his dreary gray, her strength to his quiet weakness.

    Vulgaris watches the wind sweep through the grasses and trees as she drinks, tangling the black locks of his mane carelessly. He only turns to look at her when she speaks and his brows furrow in confusion at her words. She makes an excellent queen, he thinks, so he can’t imagine why she would say such a thing. He tilts his head curiously but a short laugh erupts from his lips when she speaks again.

    Him? King? That had gone so poorly before that he can’t imagine her genuinely believing he might be fit to wear the western crown. But her gaze does not falter and she offers up a gentle plea. His laughter dies on his tongue as his smile fades to a frown. His father had been a king and saved his people when war came barging down their door, alongside his people and fellow rulers. And what had Vulgaris done? The perfect opposite. He kickstarted a war against the ones he loved best.

    The memory leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

    Leliana, if there is anyone in this world who should not rule, it is me,” he says gently as he returns her kiss against her temple. “I do not inspire greatness in others. I don’t know what is best for our people. I only know how to love you and our children.

    He rests his forehead against hers and lets a slow sigh slip from his lips. The serpent knows he would shoulder the weight of the world if she only asked him to. Slowly, he grows to accept her request, even as fear blooms in his chest for the first time in so long.

    But I will do anything for you. If you want me to lead Tephra, then I will,” he whispers as he kisses along her jaw. It feels like a mistake but he could never deny her anything her heart desires.
    In this shook-up, twisted world, I'm gradually growing transparent and vanishing
    Don’t look for me; don't look at me
    @[leliana]
    #4

    I've never loved a darker blue than the darkness I have known in you

    There is a part of Leliana that knows it is the height of selfishness to ask him to wear a crown that has become too heavy for her to bear. It is the height of selfishness to ask him to take over because she is weary when she knows that he does not hunger for such things. But she cannot help but feel a seed of hope planted in her chest that this will be a redemption for him. He had not meant all of the things that had happened during his last rule. He had not meant for the bloodshed and the sorrow and the grief.

    “You inspire greatness for me,” she whispers against him as he returns the kiss, as they tangle around one another and find home in the curve of their neck and the press of their mouth to each other. She has never tired of the feel of him—no matter whether it was the feel of his scales or the feel of him now. She has never found him anything but extraordinary or desirable; never found him anything but perfect.

    She reaches up to kiss his cheek.

    “I know that you are what Tephra needs right now, Vul.”

    Concern touches her eyes, traces lines around her mouth as it grows a little taut. “I don’t think the war is over. I don’t think we’re safe.” She can feel the tension like a physical thing now, the way that it surrounds their home, the way they are left hanging—subject to the wind and the water.

    “Tephra needs a general who can lead her through war. She needs you.”

    She would still be there. Her protective magic still surrounding the place, but she was not the woman who had met Loess that day they rained fire down on them. She does not have the anger. She does not have the uncontrollable power raging through her. She does not have what it takes to stand up to an army.

    She presses her lips together and then presses her forehead into his neck.

    But he does.

    like fire weeping from a cedar tree, know that my love would burn with me





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