Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
AND I ALSO COME BEARING MORE PROMPTS BECAUSE YOU KNEW I'D BE CHUCKING DING DONG DADDY INTO YOUR INBOX SO HERE IT IS: "it wasn’t just about needing someone tonight. it was you i needed." for Adaia x Duncan also if you need me I'll be in the corner being all :eyes: emoji af
dingdongdadaia? adaiaddy? much to think about.
thank you for the prompt, effe!
rated m. adaia/duncan. 828 words. @dadrunkwriting
*
The gates of Denerim were fearsome in the moonlight. Shadows played tricks across the wood making them look ever taller; staunch watchmen who promised to keep their secrets.
"Here," Adaia said, holding out her daggers.
Duncan turned to her with a frown.
"Elves who have swords will die upon them," she smiled wryly, shaking the weapons insistently.
"I know," he muttered. He always hated stripping her of her own blades, and his mouth was a grim line as he slowly reached for them.
His hands carefully closed around the hilt of the first, the metal cool against his skin. Adaia didn't let go right away. They held each other's gaze for as long as they held the dagger, before Adaia's small hand slid off and she looked away.
He secured the swords on his hip as she walked towards the gates. He needed to follow, to flash some Grey Warden authority to the guards and explain away why they had been out so late. But he stood rooted; transfixed.
Adaia had always been beautiful. She was beautiful when they'd met, a cut on her face and a snarl on her lips. She was beautiful each time he invited her on a mission, each time she skipped out of the alienage with a laugh and a wave. But in the night, lit by all the stars and the moon, the torchlight bathing her in an amber glow...
"Are you coming?" she smirked, looking at him over her shoulder.
He swallowed, clearing his throat before following her.
As they stole through the quiet streets, Duncan couldn't help but wonder how long they could keep it up. It had been a year since they'd met, fighting their way out of the Brecilian Forest together. How much longer could he ask her to go with him on his less important missions? How much longer would she want to?
The looming alienage gates always sent dread burrowing into his stomach – though he had to assume it was significantly easier for him than Adaia. This time, though, it felt worse somehow. He couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was his closer brush with death than usual that night, or Wintersend knocking on his front door. But Duncan knew that this night couldn't be the same as all the others. He couldn't just say goodbye, watch her head home, and sleep alone in a grim little camp he'd sleepily set up on his way back to the Wardens.
"Well," Adaia smiled, leaning against her front door. They looked around quickly before he gave her back her blades. "Thanks again!"
"Thank you," he replied earnestly.
Her smile widened in a quiet laugh as her hand reached behind her for the door handle.
"If you need anyone again, you know where I am," she grinned.
He heard the door start to open.
He couldn't let it happen that way again.
"It wasn't about needing just anyone," he rushed out, for once not letting his brain filter out what he wanted to say.
Her smile faltered, and the door clicked shut.
"It was you I needed."
She blinked up at him with her big brown eyes, like autumn leaves in the sun. Her dark skin looked flushed in the candlelight that streamed through the window.
He held her gaze, as he could do nothing else.
Adaia was looking at him in a way he'd never noticed. Her eyes flicked between his, down to his lips, and back. Her breath was shallow, her chest quickly rising and falling. He shuddered.
"Good," she whispered.
She was on her tiptoes before he knew it, and he quickly bent down to meet her halfway. He could feel her breath on his lips as they neared, neither daring to push farther just yet. Duncan could feel her mouth against his, the barest brush as they danced around each other.
When the pounding of his heart and the rush in his ears was too much to bear, he brought his hands up to either side of Adaia's face, easily threading his fingers into her hair... and they kissed.
It built up quickly. A year's worth of tension overflowed from both of them, bruising and tender. Passion thrummed in his veins as he felt her tongue against his lips and he opened, deepening their kiss. It was hard, fast, and desperate, and her trembling hand blazed a fire under his skin as her nails dug into the back of his neck.
Her other hand fisted into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he gladly obliged. Duncan pushed Adaia against the door, his hand trailing down her body, grabbing at her helplessly as she gasped into his mouth, tugging him to the present. They were being loud. Soft moans and gasps, the rustle of swords and daggers as they desperately gripped onto each other.
Adaia pulled away suddenly.
"It's getting late," she panted.
"Yes," he murmured, blinking nervously.
"D'you want to come in?"
"...Yes."