#‘how do carver and Alistair even meet?’ something something Champion bullshit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theangelicstoryteller · 6 years

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Hey, I saw the commission from paragonraptors, what's going on there, why is Cousland about to deck Hawke?

For anyone that’s wondering, this is the commission in question that I gotfrom @paragonraptors

The short answer is that they don’t get along. Hawke is verygood at getting people to want to punch them, Cousland isn’t nearly as poisedas she would think, and Hawke is really good at provoking people. Beyond that, Hawke has a thing against most Wardens andeveryone’s always mad at Hawke.

Here’s the long answer:

A small note – all my Thedosian heroes are named Faylyn,because of idiotic reasons.

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Faylyn Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, currently going by justLady Hawke at this fancy Orlesian shindig, clicked her tongue in annoyance asshe watched yet another Faylyn from across the crowd. This one had the fanciesttitle of the three she knew, herself included, being a queen and all. Thoughthe herald, which Faylyn glanced at over as she swirled hertasty-but-weak-as-piss whiskey in her glass, had a fancy title too. She didn’tknow what it was about Faylyns saving the world, but they seemed to be prettygood at it.

Faylyn lazily watched Queen Cousland as she took a long pulloff her whiskey. When the Inquisitor had invited her to this fancy party, shewas hoping, since it was in Orlais, that the pretty queen would stay inFerelden. No such luck, of course. Though Varric had told Faylyn that the crown had very good relations with theInquisition and had no real reason to turn it down, she had still hoped.

Now she had to socialize.

Though the problem, Faylyn knew, as she watched the queenpretending to drink her wine, wasn’t that she was a queen. People were peopleand having fancy headgear didn’t change that. Maker, her best friend wasVicount of her city and she still got blackout drunk with him. No, the factthat this Faylyn had a crown wasn’t the problem. The real problem was that shewas Gray Warden.

Though Faylyn knew the order made its redemption fightingwith the Inquisition, helping take down Corypheus and blah blah blah, but whatthey did at Adamant still hurt. Andraste’s flaming ass, but what they did at Kirkwall all those years ago still hurt.The only Wardens she ever met and that she actually liked was Stroud and herbrother. And Stroud nobly sacrificed himself for his order and the jury was outhalf the time with Carver. She specifically excluded Anders in that count.

Also with what happened at Weisshaupt. Faylyn didn’t like tothink about it much, but it just helped fuel her dislike, maybe even hatred, ofthe Wardens. Though Carver swore by them and they did look as if they were tryingto make amends with the world, the past couldn’t be forgotten. If anyone knewthat, it was her. And now two Wardens were playing royals on in her old home.

And then there was her, carrying the noble name of Faylyn,sharing it with two people who shook the world and were still doing so. TheHerald seemed fine when Faylyn met her at Skyhold (poor taste in men though.Cullen? Really?), she still reshaped the Chantry, helped chose a new Divine, anda whole lot of stuff. And the queen over there stopped a Blight before it leftone country, in under a year, while said country was in a civil war, and livedto tell the story of slaying an Archdemon. Thentook the thrown with a man she loved. And this Faylyn, the bird one, justwanted to get drunk and listen to one of Varric’s many bullshit stories. Tomost people, sharing a name and a similar role to these world shakers wouldintimidate or embarrass them. To this Faylyn, it annoyed her.

She glanced over as Lady Trevelyan (or was it LadyRutherford? Had those two tied the knot yet? Would she even take Cullen’sname?) made her way to her, the herald’s usual smile in place. Her mechanicalarm moved just like her real arm, swinging by her side as the Inquisitor easilymade her way through the masked nobles. Faylyn sighed slightly as she downedthe rest of her whiskey, yet again wishing it was stronger. Time to do thatsocializing.

Queen Faylyn Cousland of Ferelden hated Orlesians, but atleast she was good at politics. Alistair, Maker bless him, did not have a headfor diplomacy, though he hadn’t started any wars while she was away. He haddone an admirable job of opening negotiations with Orlais while she was gone,but she was glad he hadn’t agreed to anything. These second talks they were atwould give Faylyn a chance to test the waters on what Leliana had taught her ofThe Game and see if Empress Celine was serious about mending bridges withFerelden.

“I can’t believe that, after what happened the last time Celinethrew a party, that she still wantedto throw one to talk to us,” Alistair complained next to her. They both were ata small table, neither drinking their wines, though the bottle, and theinsufferable servant who had given it to them, swore it was of a very fine andexpensive vintage. “Though an assassination attempt would make the party more interesting,” he finished with a smirk.

Faylyn shook her head. “They’re Orlesians, dear,” shereminded him with a smile. “They never learn.”

He turned to smile at her. “You can say that again.” Hesighed dramatically, looking over at the gathered nobles with a frown. “Iswear, it’s like they’re testing me. I nearly walked out of the last onebecause of how long everything took and they’re doing it again. Wait, they’reOrlesians. They probably are testing me.”

Faylyn chuckled, placing her hand over his. “If they’re nottesting you, then me.”

He glanced at her with a smirk, moving his hand up to grabhers. “Well, they have no idea who they’re dealing with.”

“Of course, not, sweetheart,” she said with a smirk, hervoice turning to silk, like Leliana had taught her. “I’m the great Hero ofFerelden.”

With a smile, he gave her hand a squeeze. Though back home,they could be far more open with their affection, this was as much as theydared in the Orlesian court. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye,she looked to another Faylyn in the room, Alistair following her gaze. Thisone, the Inquisitor, was having a short meeting, by the looks of it, with herdiplomatic advisor. The Antivan woman, Josephine Montilyet, Faylyn thoughtthat’s what Alistair called her, was talking quickly to the Inquisitor, who wasmotioning with her hands. One of which a striking piece of machinery, perfectlymimicking her lost hand. And though she saw Alistair move to glance at theChampion, Faylyn instead pretended to sip her wine. Alistair quickly looked toher as he saw her take the wineglass, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s been watching me since I got here,” Faylyn saideasily, putting down her undrunk wine. “I’m not about to let her know I know.”

Alistair shook his head, also grabbing his wine andpretending to drink it. “How Orlesian of you, my dear.”

Faylyn chuckled again as she saw Inquisitor Trevelyan makeher way to the Champion. She smiled at Alistair one more time before abandoninghim and her wine to walk to the balcony Trevelyan had asked her to meet themin. She did not wear a crown this day. That was for the play of it, thedramatics that The Game and Orlais demanded. Today was for business, somethingshe was more accustom to. But she didn’t need a crown to command the crowd asshe walked with the poise only a queen could carry. And the crowded noblesparted for her. Though none would bow to a backwater queen, the power thatseemed to radiate off of Queen Faylyn Cousland, Hero of Ferelden, was enough.

Back straight, head high, Faylyn stepped out into thesunshine of the outer balcony. Once there, her back to the crowd, she let out asmall sigh. It was too warm in Orlais. Her thin summer dress was still toothick for the winters of Halamshiral, especially in the warm palace. It wascolder out here, thank the Maker. She didn’t enjoy the chill, however, turningslightly to watch Lady Hawke and Lady Trevelyan out of the corner of her eye.

The Champion moved with a controlled grace that belied herlarge form. She was built like a warrior – tall with a wide frame, The Championwould never be called slender by any stretch of the imagination, other thanperhaps a qunari’s – but moved with a finesse that reminded Faylyn of her own.And the way that Lady Trevelyan walked. Rogues, all three of them, she thought,looking back to the gardens. How interesting. It seems Zevran wouldn’t beneeded to liven things up after all.

Faylyn Trevelyan, Herald, Inquisitor, and all that, easilymade her way through the crowd. Hawke made it easy, since she stood nearly halfa head at least above all the other nobles around her. She didn’t know whatthey fed her in Kirkwall, but the last people she met that were this stout werethe Avaar. And that bulk she was pretty sure was supplemented in furs.

What were the odds that three of the most influential peoplein southern Thedas would all share a name? Faylyn guessed that the Maker justwanted to be easily able to pick out who He wanted to do great things. Even now,Faylyn was hoping that someone in Tevinter would have the name so she could geta good guess on who would help her in the coming fight against Solas.

But those were thoughts for another time. Right now, Faylynwas excited to introduce Queen Cousland and Champion Hawke to one another. Ifnegotiations went well between Orlais and Ferelden, Kirkwall would be animportant port stop between Denerim and Val Royeaux. Faylyn was eager to seethe intermingling of the three cultures, starting with the Ferelden’s muchloved queen and Kirkwall’s most notorious champion.

Said champion looked bored as Faylyn walked through thebalcony doors. Already there, looking over at the winter palace gardens, wasQueen Cousland. She turned when she heard them cross the threshold, smilingaloofly. Behind Faylyn, very quietly, Hawke gave a short huff. She soundedannoyed, which immediately set her on diplomatic edge. Josephine had said thatthese two had never met, except once at the feast celebrating when Hawke becameChampion. Leliana confirmed it and said that the two only had a shortconversation. Nothing indicated that Hawke would dislike Queen Cousland.

Using her best Wicked Grace face, she smiled at theChampion, stepping aside to introduce them. Hawke did look annoyed as she gavea level gaze to the queen. “Lady Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall,” she saidcheerfully, holding a hand out to the monarch, “allow me to introduce you QueenCousland of Ferelden. Your Majesty,” she turned back to Queen Cousland, whoonly had a polite smile on her face, giving away nothing. She gave the properFerelden bow, which was a half salute, crossing her arms across her chest whilebowing her head.

Queen Cousland smiled a little deeper, seeming to gestureFaylyn away. “Oh, none of that, Your Worship. There’s no need to be so formal.”She looked up at the larger woman. “A pleasure, Champion,” she said with a dipof her had. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” the Champion asked flippantly. She foldedher hands behind her back, but she still managed to give off an uncaringposture. Her eyes wandered over to the gardens behind Queen Cousland. “I’m sureall of Thedas has read Varric’s book about me by now,” she said in a way thatwasn’t exactly mean, but it was far from friendly.

Faylyn wanted to smack her. She was being rude to a queen. Queen Cousland was much less formal than Empress Celine, but the Champion wasbordering on disrespectful. Faylyn raised her eyebrows at the Champion, but kepther smile up, hoping her silent reprimand wasn’t lost on Hawke, but unnoticedto the queen. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending, neither of them werelooking at her. Faylyn tried to read the queen as she leaned into Hawke’s lineof sight.

“True, I did read Varric’s infamous book,” she said with asmile. But there was something sharp about it, threatening, in the veryundercurrent of her tone and behind her smile. Almost like she had pulled out aknife rather than a smile. “But I’m far more interested in the truth. I doubtyou’re as much as a myth as Lord Varric would have the world believe.”

Hawke’s gaze lazily looked back to the queen. But there wasa shift in her posture. She wasn’t looking atthe queen so much as using her massive height and build to look down at the queen. Faylyn’s smiledropped as she read the hostility that was suddenly blooming between the women.

Faylyn Hawke’s eyes were more focused than her expressionled on as she moved her hands to her hips. A tiny smirk played at the edge of herlips as she read the smile on the queen’s face. It was downright dagger like.Reminded her of the smiles the bards gave. Funny, that a Ferelden noble wouldknow an Orlesian trick. What else did she know? “Oh, I don’t know; your ownstory seems pretty unbelievable. Do you really think I’m the mythical one, oh great warden that slew an archdemon? Thenleft to go rule a kingdom?”

Her smirk was now half pronounced as she watched one of Cousland’seyebrows raise. Nothing, huh? Well, she was just getting started. She sort ofnoticed a look the Inquisitor gave her, but she ignored her. She was bored andprobably actually a little tipsy, despite the weakness of the whiskey. Well,she did drink an entire bottle and a half.

“True, I suppose,” the queen said with grace, gently foldingher hands in front of her. She seemed undaunted. “I suppose, in light of mystory, yours seems far more probable. Though you did start the Mage-TemplarRebellion.”

No she didn’t. Anders was the idiot who blew up the Chantry.Fiona, even later in the middle of nowhere Orlais, was the one that cast thevote. Anders, another damn crazy Warden. Thinking of him made her frown. Sheshrugged, looking away, up at the building around her, folding her hands behindher back again. “I just happened to be in Kirkwall, really. Not like you,” shesaid lazily again, moving her gaze back to the short queen, her expressionneutral again. “I’d say you had the opposite problem at Ostagar.”

Another Warden failure, as far as Hawke was concerned.Though in Cousland’s defense, Logain did quit the field and took with him mostof the army. But it did the trick that Faylyn was looking for. A humanreaction. She got it out of both the Inquisitor and the queen, as both theirsmiles dropped, something close to anger furrowing Cousland’s brow and makingTrevelyan look at her sharply. But it proved something to Faylyn she alwayswanted to be assured of whenever dealing with Wardens. That they rememberedthat they were mortal.

She was there, at Ostagar. That was the only concussion thatQueen Faylyn could come to. The Champion wasthere, and it sounded dangerously close to an accusation on what happened thatday so, so many years ago. Faylyn felt her posture go stiff, her hands clenchas she looked into Hawke’s eyes. Her face seemed disinterested, but there wassomething there behind her eyes. Faylyn’s anger cooled to icy rage as sheleveled her own gaze at Hawke. Ostagar was always a painful subject, even ifthe mess was both King Cailan and Logain’s fault, at least one person every fewmonths pointed the blame at the Wardens.

Faylyn didn’t suffer it then and she wouldn’t suffer it now.

“At least I was trying to help and not letting a city burnaround me, only helping when it was convenient to me,” she said coolly,watching Hawke carefully. “I’m sure you were just going to the market when thequnari attacked.”

Hawke’s smirk returned, which deepened Faylyn’s rage. Thiswoman was toying with her. Her. TheQueen and Hero of Ferelden. A champion who’s best known accomplishment was failing and running from the city she once protected as its Circle fell. Her coldand sharp smile returned. She felt a shift inside her from queen to Warden; andshe was still a Warden. She didn’t deserve this treatment.

This was bad. Inquisitor Faylyn felt her heart rate spike asshe watched the two exchanging verbal blows. This was really bad. The two justset each other off, in the worst way possible. Of course, Faylyn had heard thatthe Champion was sarcastic and tactless, but she was being somewhat aggressiveto the queen. It wasn’t until Hawke mentioned Ostagar that it hit her. Ofcourse, Queen Cousland was a Warden before she was queen. And Hawke never likedthe Wardens. It had been so long since the queen had done anything for thewardens, Faylyn had hoped that Hawke wouldn’t have cared she was once part ofthe order. Or at least gave them credit for the work they had done for Thedasover the recent years. Apparently, it was too much to hope for.

“Come now, here’s no need for that,” Faylyn said sweetly,gently trying to put herself between the two. Both of their expressions weredangerous; a sharp smirk on the champion, a sharp glare on the queen. Sharplike knives being pulled in a fight. The fact that both were ten years hersenior didn’t mean anything to Faylyn. She was sure that they were both verycapable.

This was the last thing that Faylyn wanted.

Champion Faylyn could see it, written in the cute queen’seyes. She got her. Right there. Crawled right under her skin. Faylyn was goodat that. She practiced with Isabela and Varric all the time. She completelyignored Trevelyan, her smirk deepening as she leaned closer to the queen. Herinsult was weak, overdone, blunt, and wrung out. It was time to show her what apro could do.

“At least I helped when the city started to fall,” she saidsweetly. “Not like you. Not like when your golden boy Stroud came through andcalled qunari murdering people in the streets a political matter.”

She really had liked Stroud, but she had also never gottenover what he said to her all those years ago. The wardens do not interfere with political matters, he had said.Or something close enough. Because people being senselessly slaughtered wasconsidered a political matter. But the blow didn’t do much against the queen.Good thing she wasn’t finished yet.

“Biggest lie I think you’ve ever told, which is sayingsomething, huh? Your Majesty?” Shewas proud of herself for making the honorific sound like an insult. She saw hotanger flash through the queens’ eyes, panic in Trevelyan’s posture. She stillwasn’t done. “But your order has enough secrets to put the whole Orlesian courtto shame, eh? Like saying you’re morally above the world when you kill own tofuel blood soaked demon summoning and killed the griffins in your own twistedrituals. But that’s the right kind ofkilling, right?”

More anger, followed with pain and confusion, shifted in thequeen’s eyes. Oh, so the great Hero of Ferelden didn’t know about the griffins?Well this was the perfect way to tell her. Hawke felt just a little bit ofsatisfaction in that.

“Please, enough,” the Inquisitor said, stepping between themboth, putting her hands out to her sides. She was so short, shorter than eventhe little queen. Not by much, but everyone was short to a Hawke. Her voice wasboth pleading and authoritative. But it fell on two sets of deaf ears.

“And what of you, Champion?”Cousland demanded back. Her voice was cold, not loud, but her posture spokevolumes. She threw the title at her with even more venom that Faylyn had thrownthe honorific. “I’m surprised that you even decided to return to that stain ofcity that crowned you. Seeing as you helped a madman tear it apart and bloodmages escape the city.”

A face, several, ones she didn’t like to think about.

You tore Kirkwallapart and started the rebellion! Stroud, trapped in the Fade, one of thelast things he said to her.

Meredith wants bloodmagic, then I will give it to her! Orsino, desperate to escape, knew of theone who killed her mother.

There is no going back…Anders, lost to Vengeance, the abomination Fenris warned her about. She wantedto believe him…

But it seemed that she had underestimated her foe. The Queenwasn’t done either.

“Then, after destroying it, you left it, abandoning yourpeople to the demons and Templars still left in it.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’msure your mage siblings fared well against their wrath. Or did you abandon themto save your own skin like you did Fenris?”

How dare she?! Shewanted to bring Fenris into this? Fine. Then it was a no-pulled-punches kind offight. Her anger rose in her, blooming like a bloody flower covered in barbs.“You wanna talk about leaving to save your own skin? Where were you when thesky had a hole in it? You left your country, your husband, and your baby children to save yourself, leaving them to the demonsthe sky spit out.”

She saw it. Something snapped inside of the queen. Somethingwas close to snapping in her. Something was bending in Trevelyan. “Please,enough!” She cried out, putting her mechanical hand out to Cousland. Wrongchoice. Hawke could snap both of these little twigs, but the metal of Trevelyan’sarm might have been a challenge.

Cousland came at her, her arm going in for the punch. Faylyncrouched low, hands outstretched, getting ready. “Come on then!” A barroombrawl was exactly what she needed. But the good Inquisitor was getting in theway, her mechanical arm grabbing Cousland.

“Please, stop!” She cried, one hand raised to Faylyn, hermetal grip tightening on Cousland’s arm.

Neither of them paid her any attention.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #post trespasser #warden cousland #queen cousland #inquisitor trevelyan #hawke #femhawke #faylyn cousland #faylyn hawke #faylyn trevelyan #one day I'll write the whole story about these three #one day #theanimangagirl #letters to the angel

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