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The problem had seemed unreal. Distant. The concerns of kingdoms to the south had never been important - and their disputes had no foothold in the north. The pleas of the blood elves for them to deal with a vague, growing threat were brushed off as irrelevant, because the actions of the more aggressive creatures seemed more pressing at the time.
Until it wasn't.
Until war was pressing hard against their borders once more after almost three decades of peace and the Northern Union was no longer allowed to turn a blind eye. Perhaps this was their punishment for Ceviel - but their's was a hard won harmony and they weren't about to give it up.
Perhaps this was the cost of complacency, but what is the price of pride?
- Part 1 of In Our Union
20 Nov 2016
Mor coaxes Nesta to come to Rita’s with her but has to employ all of her charm and powers of persuasion to encourage her into a dance. Established Mor/Nesta; mixed POV, slightly NSFW.
Letting out a long breath, Mor folds her arms and rests her chin on them, peering up at Nesta with her best, huge, irresistible begging eyes. The kind that would have anyone pleading to do her bidding just to make her stop looking at them like that, the kind that no-one can ever possibly say-
“No,” Nesta says flatly, without looking up from the book she appears to be attempting to read by the dim lighting of Rita’s. Amren smirks. Mor scowls.
11 Dec 2016
The entire squad goes to the cabin in the mountains to spend a week together at Christmas. Mayhem and shenanigans ensues.
15 Mar 2017
A small Mesta fic. Mostly fluff, with some smut at the end. Based on the prompt "It's 2am, you're craving chocolate cake and neither of us can sleep, so why don't we bake in our underwear?"
3 Apr 2017
Mor and Nesta need to get ready for an evening out, but Nesta has other ideas.
"Nesta’s fingers thread through Mor’s, gripping them and pulling her down onto the couch. She leans over and kissed her, a soft press of her lips against her wife’s that had them both closing their eyes to concentrate on that point of contact. Their foreheads connect briefly, Mor holding herself back from pressing her tongue against the heat of Nesta’s. It takes so little for her to have this effect, to soothe and negate any stress she may have walked into their house with.
Nesta rests her hand on Mor’s neck, feeling the pulse and heat beneath the skin, remarking the way that the blood begins pounding just a bit faster... Perfect. Nesta grins, knowing she will get what she wants, what she has been sitting there imagining."