was looking through my drafts and saw my thinkpiece on the way they did sebastian's friend/rival routes and got mad about it all over again...

Dragon Age Origins Spoilers I LOVE LOGHAIN

I recently started playing Dragon Age again. Back on my bullshit / cringe / I should up my buspirone dosage lest I become a full-time dragon age blogger.

Anyway I'm making some choices I've never made before in my DAO playthrough. I decided to spare Secret Companion, just to see what it's like.

AND I LOVE HIM!!!

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

Ok, YES he sold elves into slavery, and YES everyone should definitely hate him for that, as well as for how he continues to justify it afterwards. And all the other shit he did.

But IGNORING ALL THAT, he is my favorite Dragon Age character ever. I love him so fucking much. I can't explain it, I just find him so compelling and funny. I ended up sacrificing him to the archdemon (I've never not done Morrigan's ritual before but now that I've really thought about it, there are a lot of good reasons not to) and I was genuinely sad that I couldn't hang out with him at the coronation. I love that they built a statue of him facing the Orlesian Embassy in Denerim. I think that's perfect and the (second-) best ending for him.

As for Alistair wandering off and becoming an alcoholic in Starkhaven, I know it's sad and fucked up and everything, but I honestly think it's a kind of poetic outcome for him. Because he was always placed into certain roles; Templar, Grey Warden, King (potentially); basically against his will. Now that he's free to do as he chooses, this is where he ends up. And it's not his fault, his upbringing didn't prepare him for this at all. But it's sort of interesting to see what happens to this chronic follower when he has nothing to follow.

Anyway I enjoy Loghain so much more than Alistair. I love him so goddamn much. I want to get drinks with him irl. Not in a romantic way, he's a major uggo and anyway I'm gay. But like we should hang out sometime bro... you down??

Made one of my most treasured OCs in DA2 😊 Her name is Celestine, but she also goes by Tina.

She's not a Hawke and I could not legitimately imagine her as one if I tried😅

In my canon shes he's a noblewoman from Starkhaven who marries Sebastian (post-Inqusition). She pulls him out of the hole of scandals he'd dug for himself while calling the shots and educating him from behind the scenes on how to become a more proper and ethical ruler.

For my own sanity and suspension of disbelief I'm just pretending in my head that she's somewhere out in the palace garding reading the Tale of the Champion and self-inserting herself into the story. Also a perfect explanation for why she's skimming over a lot of the sub plots (just as I'm skipping a lot of side quests) so she can focus in on what her favorite characters and current husband is up to and get to all the most dramatic plot points.

She WILL be sparing Anders in the end. That's true to how the story played out (in my canon) and I just don't think she'd condone killing him. By this point in my canon Sebastian has long moved on from the desire to harm him or others who knew him anyway.

[If you are so inclined, for some reason, you can read about her and Seb's original canon here!]

the more i think about merrill and sebastian, the more intense i'm feeling about them too, because i feel like sebastian has been abused by the chantry to some extent. i get the sense that a lot of his stances are genuine--he strongly debates whether or not to stay with the chantry and does walk away from it once no matter what, twice if hawke convinces him to retake his position in starkhaven, so i don't feel like he's been entirely twisted up and blinded, at least on the matter of religion and mages, he seems to really believe.

but. i do think the chantry (and his parents) messed up his understanding of morals, and what is good vs bad, and why. sebastian slept around in his youth and wasted money on mind-altering substances, presumably, and his parents considered it disgraceful, so they sent him to the chantry against his will to "straighten him out". (this post will focus on sex, mainly, but i could so go on about his broken moral compass re: mage rights and how he responds to anders at the end of the game, how he instantly flips into a much more harmful portrayal of justice/vengeance than he thinks anders is, imo. anyway)

now, the kinds of things he got up to could be harmful in excess or if not doing it safely, yes, but of course having sex or using substances isn't inherently wrong / immoral, you just need to be careful and understand your boundaries and all that. maybe he did need someone to tell him to slow down, be safer, and evaluate his needs / if these things were really good for him or if he was using them as an escape or something like that, but he didn't need to be told he was a disgrace or that it was wrong to do x and y. classic case of condemning the action instead of treating the root cause of them, which likely is that he felt sidelined as the youngest, "less important" of his siblings, while still feeling the pressure of being royalty. he probably didn't get the kind of nurturing he needed. probably didn't get the opportunity for positive, genuine relationships.

and then in the chantry, he's having that idea of "disgrace" solidified. he's meant to be chaste. he's meant to set aside all personal pleasure. he has to let go of such "base" things to dedicate himself to the maker & andraste. i don't know for sure if all chantry clergy are supposed to be celibate because it's the case for sebastian, while it seems very much not the case in dai (at the very least, a sister has sex with the iron bull lol and i feel like it's mentioned elsewhere but i cant remember off the top of my head). regardless, sebastian has had his sexual desires repressed.

enter merrill, as i've been writing her lately. sex knowledgeable and sex-positive, and so down to casually enjoy others without it being a big deal. sebastian noticing that she's having sex with half their friends at this point, maybe more, and his internalized sex-negativity making him think badly of her. she's "deviant", and "frivolous" like he once was. not only could she give him the fucking he really needs, she could unravel the knots his family and the chantry tied in his mind. she could remind him that sex can be good and fun, and there's nothing wrong with that. sex can be beautiful, and deeply satisfying, and he is not dirty and disgraceful for liking sex.

she could fix him

Hi! Can I request dai companions reacting to receiving baked goods made by Inky (including romance options if possible)? ^^♡

This was so fun to write! I tried to research some foods of Thedas to predict what kind of baked goods the characters would like <3

Cassandra gasps as she is presented with a small fruit pie. She sniffs it gingerly and- yes! It has spiced pears inside. One of her favourite delicacies from home. Cassandra holds the pie close to her chest and thanks the Inquisitor with a huge smile. She offers them a piece, but they decline. She digs in immediately and makes a mental note to ask the Inquisitor to make more.

If romanced, the Seeker will take the pie with a shy smile. She tastes it, then feeds a forkful to the wonderful man that made it for her. Cassandra loves it. She finds the gesture very romantic, and if she were the swooning type... well, to say she enjoyed the pie would be an understatement. "You are amazing."

Solas raises his eyebrows in surprise. He was not expecting a plate of sugar cake, and yet one somehow appeared on his desk anyways. "Inquisitor, you continue to surprise me." He's not sure what to do. Does he return the gesture and make a cake for them? Solas finally settles on eating the damn thing and is not disappointed when he does.

If romanced, Solas will stop what he's doing to try the cake his vhenan baked for him. It tastes even better than it looks. He kisses the Inquisitor's cheek and thanks her for the delicious cake. The interaction is enough to bring a smile to his face for the rest of the day. He will miss her cakes.

Varric sets his quill down when the Inquisitor comes to him with a fish and egg pie, specifically from Starkhaven. He barks out a laugh as he's reminded of Sebastian, and accepts the plate. "Andraste's ass Inquisitor, this actually tastes good! You deserve a medal." By the end of the evening, he's full of pie and warm memories of his friends.

Dorian peers over his book and raises an eyebrow. On the table in front of him is a loaf of freshly baked bread and a side of olive oil. It's a common dish in Tevinter, and also happens to be one of his favourites. The homesickness slowly ebbs away as he takes a bite. By the time Dorian is done, he's practically begging them to bake more.

If romanced, Dorian will laugh as he's greeted with a plate of bread and a kiss. "What's this, amatus?" When he's finished, he kisses his love's knuckles and thanks him. Internally, he thinks 'I cannot fall in love. I cannot fall in love. I cannot- oh kaffas.'

Sera looks at the cookies in front of her and snickers. There has to be some kind of prank involved. Raisins? After a thorough inspection, she realises the Inquisitor just made them for her to enjoy. Sera eats them all at lightning speed. She can't help it. They just taste so darn good.

After receiving the plate of cookies, Sera peppers her Honey Tongue's face with kisses. The cookies were perfect. And the first person her Inky thought of to give them too was her? Sera isn't the type to blush, but her face brightens with a wide grin.

Blackwall glances at the plate then back at the Inquisitor, raising an eyebrow to ask 'Is this for me?' He sets down his wood carving tools and takes a bite from the Ferelden pasties. They're warm and flaky, and perfect to eat during his break. He offers the Inquisitor some and they sit in the barn, eating together.

If romanced, Blackwall's heart practically explodes with adoration for the Inquisitor. The nagging thought that he doesn't deserve her is promptly shoved to the back of his mind as he digs into the pasties. They are wonderful. She is wonderful.

Cole looks at the plate of bread rolls and informs the Inquisitor that he doesn't eat. He sees the look on their face, hears the momentary panic in their mind and takes a bite anyways. "I don't need to eat, but I want to." It makes the Inquisitor happy.

The Iron Bull observes the plate of cinnamon rolls with a certain wariness. The last time he had these, they were poisoned by a friend. These ones are just fine, however. Screw fine. They're delicious!

If romanced, he brings his kadan into his lap and feeds them a piece of a roll. Bull thanks them with a kiss (much to the chagrin of Krem, though he stops complaining as soon as he's offered one too). "My kadan is a badass and an excellent baker as well? Damn, I'm lucky."

Madame de Fer. Iron Lady. The name strikes fear into the hearts of weaker opponents, so it is strange to see Vivienne lose her composure. She's touched by the gifts of powdered biscuits, and after the loss of her dear Bastien, it's just what she needed. Vivienne thanks the Inquisitor with many darlings and my dears, and quietly tucks in, her heart warm with thoughts of her lover and baked goods.

Cullen glances up at the icing dusted biscuits presented before him. "These are for me?" He eyes the biscuits, then his paperwork, then gives in to the temptation of the sweet treats. Cullen feels less stressed about his day than before, and happily tucks into them with a soothing cup of tea by the side of his desk.

If romanced, Cullen blushes at the sight of the heart shaped biscuits. They're cute and sweet (much like the person in front of him) so he has no choice but to ignore his paperwork. He's already thinking of a million ways he can return the favour.

Leliana blinks at the plate of cookies in front of her. "You are too kind, Inquisitor." She takes them with a rare, genuine smile and allows herself to relax. It's an odd feeling to be sure, but not an unwelcome one.

Josephine has about a billion things to do. Organise a party between an Antivan and Orlesian ambassador, spread support for the Inquisition in the little villages of Ferelden and... eat baked goods? She decides to make it a priority on her never ending to-do list and doesn't regret a single crumb.

If romanced, Josie finds a giggle easily reaching her lips. "Did you make this, my love?" She's all 'thank you's and bright smiles. Her love's baking has her glowing with happiness all day long.

Fluffuary#2 - Long Convserations

Racing under the finish line.

Rating: G

Pairing: Sebastian Vael x Ixchel Lavellan (post-Bloodied & Broken)

-:-:-

Varric suspects they have been having the same conversation since the day they met.

The Seeker had told him all about it, though she had not realized at the time all of its significance. But Varric had. After all, Ixchel Lavellan reminded him of Garrett; that she would come to love Sebastian Vael in a strange, stubborn way was not surprising. Chuckles and Champ--what a pair--both desperately needed to know there were people out there willing to listen, and do the hard work of self-reflection, and change themselves to better the world. Those were the people who always mattered the most, not dragon slayers or monster hunters or moneybags or prophets.

The difference between Ixchel and Garrett, of course, is that Sebastian stopped talking to Hawke a long time ago.

That doesn't mean Sebastian ever stopped listening to the Champion. Ixchel would never have found an audience in him if not for the questions Garrett raised so long ago. Varric feels a little sorry, but Hawke has bigger fish to fry, these days, and he has Fenris, anyway.

Some thought the friendship between the Prince of Starkhaven and the former Inquisitor seemed unlikely, but Varric had it all figured out from Day One. He often wondered who would win out in the end. Or, rather, whose ego would break, and whose stubbornness would yield, in the face of the gentle empathy and active listening of their companion. That, he supposed, was just a matter of time. But the only thing he couldn't decide was whether Sebastian and Ixchel had the same conversation over and over again, every time they met or wrote--or if each was but another installment in one long conversation, evolving over years.

It bothered him a little that he didn't know the answer. So, one night, after Ixchel and Sebastian had been seen sitting in the smoking room by the fire talking for hours in absence from the Varric's own party, Varric walked Ixchel to her rooms and asked, "What do you and Choir-Boy have to talk about all the time?"

"Jealous?" Ixchel teased, then yawned. A Kirkwall party wasn't rightfully over until dawn, but they were all getting a little too old for that. "I don't know, Varric. Plenty. His daughter's lessons. Our predictions for the next Grand Tourney. Tax law..."

"Tax law?" Varric repeated, incredulous. "No debates about divine mandates and dangerous magics or destiny? I'm shocked, Champ. Shocked."

Ixchel wrinkled her nose and leaned against the door jam. "He doesn't need to talk to me about those things," she replied with a small smile. "We spoke at length, once, saw merit in each other's arguments, and...moved on. He grew on his own, and I grew on my own."

Varric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He always was the...proactive type," he supposed.

"He took me seriously, when he had no reason to," Ixchel replied, suddenly more grave. "He put in the hard work to examine himself and the world around him." She gave a shrug with one shoulder. "And I like the man he became. Why would I question it?"

"Because we both know you like the sound of your own voice," Varric teased, "almost as much as you like the sound of his."

Ixchel snorted. "Must be a Marcher thing," she said flippantly. "Good night, Varric. It's late, and I do have an appointment to finish my conversation with Prince Vael in the morning, after all."

She chuckled and reached for the door--but then something occurred to Varric, and he couldn't keep it to himself.

"You know, he has really shaped up over the years," he told Ixchel. "I've seen a lot of improvements, I can't lie. If that's your doing, I shan't keep you."

Ixchel smiled. "I don't think it matters whose influence it is, Varric. Because like I said...he did the work himself."

"Alright, alright," Varric replied. "I'll leave you to your dreaming, or whatever it is you do. Night, Champ."

"Goodnight, Varric."

WIP Wednesday

***

Varric wondered why she hadn’t gone to him yet, on this moment of respite before the final showdown with the Knight Commander. She did seem to be attending to the ones who were crying, the ones in worse shape. Varric was tough, his injuries were minor; a few scrapes here and there, boots had seen better days, but he was fine. Surely, she was going to approach him eventually, though. Her trusted friend for years.

But when she finally approached, he began to crumble. An outreached hand, a shaking voice, a sensation so foreign he nearly forgot where he was. “Hawke, I…”

She smiled at him, her eyes glassy, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. And for the first time in years, Varric Tethras’s words got caught in his throat. His eyes began to well up, and he coughed out a, “Shit,”.

“Varric, it’s all right,” she said, bending her knees and clutching his hands. “I’m glad to have you at my side for this.”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he finally spit out. “You don’t deserve this. Nobody here deserves this.”

“I know. But I’ll do everything I can to put a stop to it.”

“And then what? We can’t just go back to the way things were after all this.”

“My illustrious storyteller can’t think of an ending? I’m sure one will come to you.”

“But everything you did. All that hard work. It’s gone. The templars won’t let you stay.”

She sighed. “I know. I’m leaving Kirkwall once this is done, as you may have guessed. I’m going to help Sebastian get his throne back. And then… you will find me in Starkhaven.”

“Right… and then you’ll stay there. In Starkhaven.”

“This doesn’t surprise you, does it?”

“No, I just… I’ve been fooling myself, I suppose. Thinking things would stay the same forever.”

“Isabela and Fenris are accompanying us. You’re more than welcome to join, my trusted dwarven archer.”

“I,” he swallowed hard, the lump in his throat heavy. “I just…”

“It’s all right, Varric, I understand. Kirkwall is where you belong. One day this will be over. A calm will wash over this eventually. When that day comes, I’ll write to you and visit as often as I can.”

“Right. Well… Hawke, here’s to… here’s to whatever comes next.”

She squeezed his hands, stood up, and began to walk away, toward First Enchanter Orsino.

His chest tightened. A pulsing scream inside, It’s over, it’s been over. She’s gone. It’s too late, she’s chosen someone else.

A twin voice twisted, Say it anyway.

Varric held out a hand, “Wait.”

She came right back. “Yes, Varric?”

“I love you, Judy. I’ve always loved you.”

She smiled, and planted a feather-soft kiss on his forehead. “I know, Varric,” she said. “You will always be my treasured friend.”

Really thinking hard about how to handle Sebastian in the new climax crisis mod because when I initially made no seb climax crisis (as my *checks* third published mod, five years ago) I was really dissatisfied with what I was able to accomplish with the options I had available for modding back then.

I’ve talked at length before about the problems I have with Seb’s content in the climax but it mostly boils down to 1) quite a bit of it feels more like hamfisted movie villainry than a meaningful emotional response and 2) since Sebastian is dlc (and not even day 1 dlc), the entire scene is structured around the assumption that he won’t be present by default, and thus most of his dialogue, rather than contributing meaningfully to the conversation, insists of him shouting into the void while no one reacts.

I’m trying to come at this with a fresh outlook and not reference any of the choices I made in the past. But, anyway, here’s what I’m toying with rn. Feedback appreciated.

I removed most of his lines from my mockup of the dialogue so that approaching it I will be making decisions about which lines to add in rather than which lines to remove, but I’ve already decided to retain the following exchanges in the conversation following the chantry boom.

Orsino: The Circle didn't even do this! Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness! Meredith: And I call on you to keep order! After what just occurred, you cannot deny what must be done. (or) Meredith: And I demand you stand with us! Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated. Sebastian: Why are we debating the Right of Annulment when the monster who did this is right here? (But this then segues back into other npc reactions which are normally skipped if Sebastian is present)

Also this:

Hawke: Was that... why you needed me to distract the grand cleric? Sebastian: This? This is what you tried to trick me into doing? Sebastian: And you went along with him! Anders: If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor-bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance. (or) Hawke: Was that... why you needed me to distract the grand cleric? Sebastian: You were... part of this? Anders: If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor-bound to stop me. I couldn't take that chance.

Also this:

Anders: The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see. Sebastian: Elthina is not the Circle! She was a good woman, and you murdered her! Orsino: You fool! You've doomed us all!

It’s the second part of the conversation that’s more problematic, in which Hawke and Anders have a big long back and forth conversation while the camera periodically cuts to Sebastian, featuring absolutely no one reacting to anything he says.

Thinking about moving a few lines around if I can find places for them that flow better, ex.

Hawke: Opinions? Sebastian: He should be killed on the spot. With the templars busy, there is no one who can contain him until a trial. Sebastian: If I'd been in that chantry today, would you be waffling? You know what must be done!

Then there’s the tricky part, which is actually dealing with Hawke letting Anders live despite Seb’s objections. Most of Sebastian’s “im gonna go to starkhaven  and raise an army to return and destroy you all for harboring this criminal” dialogue is absolutely unusable lmfao. Admittedly, I can theoretically cut down existing audio lines now so some of them might be partially salvageable, but I’m not counting on it.

The best existing objection (which I ended up using in the first mod) is

Sebastian: You condone this? The brutal death of an innocent woman of faith? Someone you knew! Who trusted you!

Then I want to add a third option to the dialogue wheel (which I wanted to add five years ago but didn’t know how to make it work perfectly at the time) so, thus:

Choice #1 (text): ? something something bigger picture ? won’t undo what he’s done ? need all the help we can get ? idk Choice #1 (dialogue): 6195829 I'm sorry about the grand cleric. But there's much more at stake. Choice #2 (text): 6087747 Stay out of this. or 6144517 Stand down. Choice #2 (dialogue): 6182459 Do not interfere, Sebastian. Choice #3 (text): 6182489 Fine. Anders dies. Choice #3 (dialogue): 6182488 He's right. The grand cleric deserves justice.

No edits made to the scene if you kill Anders. (And credit where credit is due, I do think that exchange is well-written)

Hawke: He's right. The grand cleric deserves justice. Anders: Yes. I would not deny anyone's right to that.

The paraphrase for the other existing option has been changed, and if you tell him to fuck off he will still leave and you’ll never see him again (though uhhhhhhhh hopefully less looking like he’s being set up to be the sequel villain). This line is probably staying, at least:

Sebastian: I gave up on Starkhaven to serve the Maker, but He has turned his back on Kirkwall for harboring heretics like this.

The first option is the one that will allow him to stay if his end-stage questioning beliefs has been completed, otherwise it will segue back into him leaving. This line I miraculously found hanging out in another conversation is such a godsend for that:

Sebastian: By Chantry law, these mages must be contained. But Elthina, bless her, feared Meredith as much. Sebastian: I will stand with you, Hawke.

Though that’s only useful if Hawke sides with the mages. In the existing mod when Hawke sides with the templars and Seb qualifies to stay I believe it goes

Hawke: Help me restore order. Anders: Fight with the templars. Against the Circle. Anders: Perhaps that is the only way to make this right. Stop this war before it's too late. Anders: If you think that is a better atonement than my death, I am with you for so long as I can maintain my grip on the monster inside me. Sebastian: It will never be enough, but it's a start.

Which might still be the best I can do.

As for setting the end-stage questioning beliefs as the threshold for Seb to stay, I think that’s perfectly consistent with everyone else. Aveline, Merrill, and Fenris are now always stay if you side with their preferred side, always stay if you side against their preferred side and you’ve completed their end-stage, and never stay otherwise. Anders is always stay if you side with the mages (and ask him to stay), always stay if you side with the templars (and ask him to stay) and you’ve completed his end-stage rivalry, and never stay otherwise. Seb would be always stay if you kill Anders, always stay if you refuse to kill Anders but have completed his end-stage, and never stay otherwise.

Admittedly, Aveline, Merrill, and Fenris all give you a chance to recruit them back in a later conversation (and the vanilla threshold is that they’ll agree if they’re not between 50%-100% rivalry), but if you side with the templars you have one chance to keep Anders or else he’s gone for good, and I think that’s fair with Seb as well.

So obviously uhhhhhh most of what’s left to do is cobble together a collection of lines of dialogue for the Seb stays/Seb goes exchange that actually feels like a real conversation. Which is the difficult and subjective part. But being able to commandeer lines like “I'm sorry about the grand cleric. But there's much more at stake.“ and “By Chantry law, these mages must be contained. But Elthina, bless her, feared Meredith as much.” help a lot at least.

Anyway that’s my rambling on my current thought process out of the way lmfao thanks for reading.

Every once in a while I remember a time when I was around 15 and hyper fixating on Dragon Age, so I was sharing head canons for DA4 and what I wanted to see in the game.

More specifically I had developed an entire mini Questline that involved a war with Starkhaven headed by Sebastian hunting down Anders.

Assuming the player kept him alive at the end of DA2. He ran off(potentially with Hawke) to run an underground refuge for apostates. He comes to the DA4 Protag for help with something and hiding his true identity.

Down the line Sebastian shows up looking for him, revealing that he's the mage that blew up the Chantry and the player has the choice to hand him over to Seb to face trial in Starkhaven or there's a Boss fight that ends with the Prince dead.

Anyway- I say this all cuz I'm an Anders Stan and just want more content for him.

But some white savior took it upon themselves to call me racist for "demonizing A POC and making Seb out to be a bad guy"

Like,,, did we play the same game. He spends all of DA2 trying to convince Hawke that magic is bad- and if Hawke is a mage, they're the "exception"

He hates on Anders and Merrill and literally swears to hunt down Anders in the name of Andraste

If you played Pro-Mages/Anti Templar chances are your relationship with Sebastian Vael was Rivalry

15 year old me just wanted to see more content for my favorite character that one comment made me delete the entire post.

🍁🌻🌳💦 Soft OC asks for Warden-Commander Caron and his husband, Eynon (quietly blubbers in the feels)

e🍁 Where does your OC go when they need to have some time to themself? Would they ever have their own “comfort corner” filled with all the things they like? Do they have a favourite spot outside that feels like its theirs and theirs alone?

Rémy and Eynon have been husbands for 35 years by 9:41, but they’ve known each other practically their entire lives. They’ve had a LOT of Places. Places around Rémy’s father’s estates (he’s the youngest son of an Orlesian governor during the occupation of Ferelden and Eynon is the son of an elven apothecary who worked for his family, so when Baron Caronet returned to his holdings in Orlais near Jader after the war he brought Eynon and his father with them), places around Jader and Val Royeaux, but their favorite Place is their home in Starkhaven. It was the first that was truly theirs as opposed to a place they were...not so much trespassing (though that WAS the case sometimes but not often as it made Eynon anxious to be somewhere they weren’t supposed to be) as like...borrowing someone else’s space for a while. Their house wasn’t the biggest, but there was enough room for them to have space for their separate hobbies, a den, an office, places they could share or let one another be when needed, space for Emma after they adopted her. Rémy has done his best to replicate their home in his quarters and an otherwise unused room at Vigil’s Keep, both for his own comfort and for Eynon’s when he visits. It has similar chairs arranged in a similar way near the hearth, a similar rug to the one Emma would sit on to read and arrange her blocks as a child, a potted aglaonema grown from a cutting of the one Eynon has cared for since Orlais.  The rest of Vigil’s Keep isn’t so much like his home, but it feels like a home, mostly from the Warden-Commander’s efforts to make it so.  It is home to the people who live and work there, and he’d have them feel like it.

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them? 

Rémy is like that post I’ve seen a few times talking about watching someone stand in the rain letting it fall on their face and how strangers can fall a little bit in love with you?  Little moments of people finding joy in life light him right up.  He used to love making faces at Emma and watching her try to make them back, and the way the corners of her mouth twitched in mimic whenever he’d smile at her.  Eynon has a habit of idly twirling some of his hair around his fingers while he works, mouthing the calculations he’s doing in his head, counting by tapping the tips of his fingers on the tip of his thumb.  The care and precision he puts into his alchemical work is obvious and he loves to see it.  Likewise, Eynon can see the joy Rémy found in being a father to their daughter (Eynon himself was reluctant at first, not having ever anticipated having children of his own, but warmed to the idea mostly through watching how much Rémy enjoyed it), and a mentor and father figure to his wardens.  He knows the strength it takes to stand up for people who can’t stand up for themselves, and how effortlessly Rémy does it - and inspires others to do it - is one of his favorite things about him.  

🌳 What is your OC’s favourite way to relax after a stressful day? Do they have a favourite book to curl up with? A hobby? Or do they have a nice bubble bath and have an early night to bed?

Aside from idle snuggles with his family (he is SUCH a snuggler), Rémy likes to do puzzles and play what he considers “low-stakes thinking games” - something to focus his mind, but not stress it too hard. A word game similar to Scrabble. A block-stacking game similar to Jenga. 3D puzzles he can fidget with in one hand while he reads, like a Rubik’s cube. Chess, but he has to be in the right mood for that (chess carries a lot of pressure to be The Best at it, as opposed to just being fun. Also he once spent the better part of three weeks getting absolutely trounced at it by his then-nine year old daughter). At Vigil’s Keep, he checks in on his people and takes some time to catch up with them, and a good, hearty meal with a nice wine is a favorite way of his to offset the stress of his day - a stew with big chunks of meat and potatoes, a roast, some Fereldan dish as he’s Fereldan at heart despite being technically Orlesian.  He likes to watch birds.  Butterflies remind him of Emma; he has lots of flowers that attract them planted around the keep and tends to them himself.

Eynon has difficulty relaxing until he’s satisfactorily set things in order, working through numbers for their business or tidying up, he’s an alchemist and apothecary by trade so he might spend some wind-down time working out what he plans to do the next day work-wise and prepare what he can ahead of time. Rémy used to try to pull him away by being coy, but as they got older he stopped doing that and started helping him finish his tasks instead - less trying to get him to relax the same way he did and more adapting to what works best for him. Truthfully, with some tasks he isn’t much help, but his presence is soothing and helps Eynon feel better anyway. He missed it a lot after Rémy left.

💦 If you as the writer could erase one traumatic event from this OC’s life what would it be and why?

I mean...technically, I already did lol. Rémy becomes a Grey Warden to save him from the Blight sickness, but until like...a year or two ago - maybe, I have no sense of time when it comes to this blog - he died from it. I changed it because a) it would’ve happened because Emma tried to cure him and she carried a lot of guilt over it, and the Catharsis(TM) in Atlas (my Inquisition era fic I might actually write one day) when she’s reunited with him gives me infinite feelings, b) can I resist man with long curly hair and grey at the temples? I cannot, c) I knew I wanted my HoF to make the ultimate sacrifice and was too lazy to make YET ANOTHER OC when there was a perfectly suitable one RIGHT THERE and d) as is usually the case when I decide that one of Emma’s three dads is going to end up not dying after all, @bladeverbena yelled at me about it until I figured out a way to keep him alive. Anyway I’m glad I did, because he’s awesome and has worked incredibly well as Warden-Commander.

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Ar Lasa Mala Revas

Chapter 27 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted!

100% fluff, smut, and more feelsy fluff. ALSO GIFT ART, which needs its own post because I am beside myself with feels. 😭❤️

~9700 words so long omfg. Only the first part is posted here. Read the whole thing on AO3. 

*******************

A few days later, when the sky was a curtain of deep midnight blue studded with stars, Tamaris sat on the roof curled into Felassan’s shoulder, watching as the smoke of their shared joint drifted from his mouth in delicate wisps and curls. 

He offered her the joint, and she took it and brought it to her lips. “What do you think we should do when we finally leave this house?” she asked.

He leaned back casually on one hand. “It depends on what’s happening in the world by the time we are ready to leave. Who knows? Maybe the qunari will start moving south by then. Or maybe Tevinter will succeed at pushing the qunari back.” He smiled cheekily. “Maybe someone will assassinate the Emperor of Orlais in a sudden coup d’état.”

Tamaris lifted an eyebrow and blew out a stream of smoke. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to set up for such a coup.”

“Would that I had the resources to set up something so devious,” he said. “But that would probably plunge your world into even more chaos, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Thank you for that very wise spy advice,” she said wryly.

He nodded politely. “You’re very welcome.”

She smirked and took another drag from the joint, then blew out a little cloud of smoke and held out the joint. “Seriously though. Isn’t there anything you want to do? Barring the stuff that we might have to do. Isn’t there anywhere you’d like to travel to?”

He took the joint. “It would be interesting to visit the Arbour Wilds — to see the Temple of Mythal again.”

She raised an eyebrow. “There’s no one there anymore.”

“Exactly,” he said. “It’s perfect for scavenging. There might be clues as to where Mythal’s dragon or her amulet are being kept, or whether her dragon is even alive anymore. It is possible that the Well of Sorrows was not the only sacred treasure they were guarding.”

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. “Oh shit. That’s true. Okay, we should go there.”

“We could,” Felassan said. “Or we could go somewhere else.”

She gave him a chiding look, and he smiled unconcernedly and handed her the joint. “Where do you want to go, avise? Which direction would we strike out in if you were given the choice?”

She sighed and gazed idly at the smouldering tip of the joint. “I… ah, I’ve been thinking for a while that I should go see my clan. Those who aren’t in Wycome still, I mean.”

“Where are they now?”

“They’re a short ways from Starkhaven right now,” she said. “It’s not that far from Kirkwall, so I don’t really have an excuse.”

He cocked his head. “You were avoiding them?”

She hesitated. She genuinely hadn’t had time to go see her clan after the explosion at the Conclave, and things had only gotten busier from a political and peacekeeping standpoint after Corypheus was dead. 

But if Tamaris was honest, it was more than just Inquisition business that had stopped her from visiting her clan. And there was a reason she had volunteered to spy on the Conclave in the first place, all those years ago.

She brought the joint to her lips. “I was avoiding them, yeah.”

“Why?”

“I was…” She sighed, then gave Felassan a hard look. “I love my clan, all right? I love them, and I think they’re great. But Dalish clans grow up knowing every bit of each other’s business. We’re very close, and it’s very hard to keep secrets. It’s part of what makes us such a tight community — the entire clan is really just one big family. There are no strangers in a clan, only family.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But it also makes it difficult to… to forget when something bad happens to someone.”

He tilted his head. “You were constantly reminded of Marin.”

“Yes,” she said. “And – look, it’s not that I want to forget him. I – I’ll never forget him. He’s been dead for years and I still think of him almost every day. But it’s one thing to think of him randomly because something reminds me of him, and it’s another thing to think of him because he’s all anyone ever sees when they look at me. When he’s all I ever thought about when I looked at my parents.” She exhaled hard and rubbed her forehead. “The Inquisition was a pain in the ass a lot of the time, but I was able to… I wasn’t ‘poor Marin’s sister’ anymore, and that was… gods, I feel like an asshole saying it, but it was a relief.”

“You had a chance to start over,” Felassan said.

She looked at him. His tone was neutral but his eyes were warm, and her shoulders loosened at his lack of judgment. “Yes,” she said. “I was able to… to be someone who wasn’t forever tied to my failure to protect my family. And as the Inquisitor, I became the opposite. I was the person they saw as the one who protected everyone.” She snorted and lifted the joint to her mouth once more. “Fucking ironic, isn’t it?”

“Did your clan really see you as someone who failed to protect your family?” he asked.

She blew out a mouthful of smoke. “I was someone who failed to protect my family. He got dragged off because I couldn’t talk the Templars into calming down.”

Felassan smiled faintly. “I hardly believe that the Templars were inclined to listen. Especially if Marin had already hurt some of them.”

Tamaris swallowed hard. “He, uh… he killed one of them, actually. And hurt a couple more. But he didn’t mean to.”

Felassan nodded an acknowledgement. “If that’s the case, his fate was sealed, and not by you. That wasn’t your fault.” He took the joint from her fingers.

She frowned at him. “What do you mean, his fate was sealed? You really think there was nothing I could have done?”

“Oh, something could certainly have been done,” Felassan said. “But I doubt your clan was willing or ready to start a war against the Chantry.”

Tamaris stared at him as he brought the joint to his lips. “You’re being pretty cold-hearted about this,” she accused.

He released a mouthful of smoke before replying. “Cold-heartedness is not my intention. My intention is to point out that it was not your fault. Look at the bigger picture, and you’ll realize that short of pitting your clan against the Templar Order, there was little you could have done.” He held out the joint to her.

She glared at him, then looked away and took a breath to calm herself. He wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t told herself at one point or another, though she never quite believed her own pep talks in this regard.

She believed Felassan, though. Galling as it was to admit, it meant more to hear him saying this than telling it to herself. 

He was still talking. “There was little you could have done at that time, at least. From what I read in This Shit Is Weird, you certainly had a hand in what happened to the Templar Order after the Conclave.”

She frowned slightly as she took the joint from him. “What do you mean?”

“You publicly supported the mages over the Templars,” he said. “The Templars’ ranks were decimated, save for those who came over to your side.”

“Yeah, but the Templars still exist,” Tamaris said.

“You tore them down to their foundations,” he said. “And the person who ultimately controls them now is your former spymaster. They may have taken Marin from you, but you saw that they were taken to heel. It took time, but you got your justice in the end. The hottest flames take some time to build, avise,” he said knowingly. He pulled from the joint, then exhaled the smoke and shot her a sly smile. “Some might even say you took the Vir’Felassan.”

The way of the slow arrow, she thought. She gazed at him with a combination of exasperation and affection. Trust him to find some way of seeing her haphazard stumbling with the Inquisition as a convoluted but purposeful path toward a bigger goal.  

She pulled from the joint, then let out a sigh of smoke and leaned into his side once more. “Anyway, that’s, um… yeah. That’s part of the reason I haven’t been back to see my clan.”

“What’s the rest of the reason?” he asked.

She lifted an eyebrow sardonically. “Um, that I was fucking the Dread Wolf and didn’t know it?”

He snorted a laugh. “Letting the Dread Wolf take you would have caused a stir, I imagine.”

Tamaris smirked and held out the joint, and his fingers brushed hers as he took it. “Are there none in your clan who joined his ranks?”

She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “There were some. Maybe a dozen in total.”

Felassan smiled faintly. “Whatever happened to ‘the clan is family’?”

Tamaris tsked and punched him lightly in the arm. “Don’t be an asshole. We’re a family, not a bunch of single-minded drones like the qunari. If some of them got swayed by the messages that  Solas’s operatives were putting out, I can’t blame them.” She shot him a resentful look. “You know what does piss me off, though? Solas looked down on the Dalish so much, then he goes and recruits us anyway. That’s pretty fucking manipulative.”

“It is, yes,” Felassan said.

She frowned. “That’s all you have to say about it?”

He gave her a knowing look that was tinted with melancholy. “Don’t tell me you never manipulated anyone during your time as the Inquisitor. Don’t tell me such a lie.”

She wilted. “Fine, fine, you have a point.” Truthfully, she didn’t have it in her to be particularly angry anymore about the little things Solas had done. With everything that was brewing across the continent these days, it almost felt like she should save her anger for when it would serve her the most.

There was another brief and slightly morose pause as they passed the joint back and forth. Then, as usual, Felassan broke the silence. “So you want to go visit your clan, then?”

“I should,” she said.

He nodded and blew out some smoke, and there was another pause — one that felt loaded this time. As the silence stretched between them to an increasingly awkward degree, Tamaris’s heart began to thrum with nerves. 

Just fucking ask, she scolded herself. She chewed the inside of her cheek, then took a deep breath. “Felassan, will you come visit my clan with me?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “What else would I be doing?”

Her heart flipped in her chest. She stared incredulously at him until his lips curled in a smile. “Why are you gaping at me?” he asked.

“I…” She trailed off for a second, then gave him a skeptical look. “What, no questions, no complaints? Just yes?”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Was I unclear when I said we would be travelling together when we leave this house? If you’re going to see your clan, then so am I.”

A warm feeling spread through her ribcage and up to her cheeks. “But you don’t like the Dalish,” she said weakly. “You think we’re close-minded and all that shit.”

He shrugged and extinguished the butt of the joint on the roof. “It’s possible that I was wrong. About your clan, at the very least.”

She scoffed. “Possible, huh?”

He gave her a chiding smirk. “I can eat my own words, avise. They’re especially tasty when you slather them with evidence of the ways that I was wrong.”

She grinned goofily at him, then laughed and tucked a stray lock of hair over her ear. “A man who happily admits when he was wrong? What a catch. Maybe I shouldn’t take you back to the clan. All the unattached hunters will try to snap you up.”

“They can’t snap me up,” he said. “You’ve already caught me.”

Her heart leapt. She suddenly remembered the conversation she’d had with Dorian — that conversation where she’d described her feelings for Felassan: he caught me thoroughly. Now, to hear Felassan describing himself in a similar way…

He chuckled. “Tamaris, if you smile any wider, your face may split in two.”

She laughed giddily and shoved him. “Fuck you.”

He hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her close to kiss her temple, and they scuffled playfully for a moment before settling together once more.

Tamaris sighed happily and patted his thigh. “My mother might ask what your intentions are for me.”

“Hm,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Then I should probably come up with an answer that won’t make your face turn a deep and charming shade of red.”

She scoffed. “You’re such a fucking menace.”

“Thank you, Tamaris,” he said pleasantly. “I try.”

She beamed at him, then settled snugly against his side. They were quiet for a moment, and Tamaris indulged herself in a girlish fantasy of Felassan meeting her parents and telling half-sarcastic stories to her clan, then curling up with her in an aravel in the fragrant quiet of the woods: a stolen moment of peace before they went on to do more important things. 

She eventually squeezed his thigh. “Is there anything else you want to do when we leave the house? Like… trying to find Briala, maybe?”

He huffed in amusement. “You really want me to find her, don’t you?”

“I just think it’s sad that she doesn’t know you’re okay. Or that you’re even alive,” Tamaris said. “Whether you think she needs your help or not, I bet she’d want to hear from you.”

“She will,” Felassan assured her. “We’ll get a message to her.”

“How?” Tamaris asked.

“I was thinking of scratching obscure symbols into trees for her to find.” He smirked at Tamaris. “It’s the kind of thing she used to think the Dalish would do.”

She gave him a chiding look. “Felassan.”

He sighed dramatically. “All right, since you insist. I was thinking about coded letters, sent to different places where her most loyal cells used to be. The code would have to be premised on knowledge that she and I share, but not something Fen’Harel would know as well.”

She straightened with interest. “Do you have a code like that already?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “But I’ll think of something.”

Tamaris nodded, then hesitated before asking her next question. “Do you miss her?”

“Does a dandelion miss its seeds when they drift away to conquer new fields?”

Tamaris tsked. “You’re dodging.”

He smiled faintly, then leaned back casually on his palms. “Truthfully, I didn’t have time to miss her. I was made Tranquil the same night that I left her. Then I had no capacity to miss anyone or anything. When Cassandra restored me, I was… I felt too much of everything. How can I know if I missed her when I was caught in a cycle of euphoria and misery and rage?” He glanced at Tamaris. “A better question might be whether I thought of her, and the answer is yes; I thought of her often.”

Tamaris nodded. “I bet she misses you.”

Felassan gave her a chiding smile, and she nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m serious. I bet she would love to see you.”

“She doesn’t need to see me,” Felassan said. “I taught her to stand proudly on her own bare little feet.”

“Who cares about needing to see you?” Tamaris retorted. “I’m sure she wants to see you. Besides, you can’t possibly think the only value you had to her was as her teacher.”

Felassan made a mock-sad face. “That almost feels like an insult to my value as a teacher.”

Tamaris turned to face him fully. “You’re not just a tool, Felassan,” she said fiercely. “You’re not just here to be useful to people. There’s no way Briala spent sixteen years learning from you and didn’t give a shit about you.” She lifted her chin belligerently. “I think we should find her.”

Felassan smiled. “Is this going to be your mission, then? To broker a reunion between me and Briala?”

“If that’s what it’ll take for you to see that you’re worth more than your value as a spy or a teacher or a source of fucking information, then yes,” she snapped.

His smile softened, and he gently chucked her chin. “Easy, avise. You’ll set your hair on fire if you burn any brighter than this.”

She glared at him, irritated by how dismissive he was being. “You’re important, okay? And not because you’re a good spy or a useful ancient elf or any of that shit.”

His eyebrows rose. “Only a good spy? You wound me.”

“Shut the fuck up, will you?” she snapped. “I don’t care about the spy stuff or the mage stuff or the fact that you know shit about the past. I… those things don’t matter. You’re…”

She faltered, feeling awkward about the depth of her feelings, but Felassan’s smile only grew wider. “Go on,” he said. “Don’t stop yourself before you get to the good bit.”

She curled her lip. “Are you looking for me to list all your best qualities?”

“If you’re so inclined, I wouldn’t say no,” he replied.

She scoffed. He was so annoying. “You want me to jack you off while I’m at it?” she said snidely.

He burst out laughing. “How can I say no to a seductive offer like that?”

The treasured sound of his laughter rang straight to her heart. She tutted and folded her arms, and Felassan chuckled and pulled her against his side. “Are you aware that your pouting just makes you more charming?” he said.

“You’re smart, all right?” she burst out. “You’re so smart and perceptive. You can see both sides of things — well, most of the time at least, and when you don’t, you own up when you’re wrong. You make me laugh and you’re so fucking patient and–”

Felassan laughed and wrapped his arm around her. “Tamaris, you can stop. You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do, because you need to hear it,” she snapped. “Your value isn’t what you can do for people. It’s who you are. I don’t give a fuck if you never became a spy again or if you couldn’t cook or if you can’t totally control your magic. I’d still love you anyway.”

He grinned at her, and Tamaris’s heart somersaulted in her chest; his mouth was curled with mirth, but his beautiful violet eyes were glittering. 

He smoothed his hand over her hair. “Affectionate and abrasive at the same time. That is one of the reasons that I love you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to shut the fuck up. Instead, she cradled his cheek in her palm and kissed him. He pulled her closer as he returned her kiss, and by the time he broke their kiss to pant against her parted lips, she was practically sitting in his lap. 

He brushed his lips to hers. “Let’s go inside,” he murmured.

Read the rest on AO3 because I’m a monster and a horrible tease. 😂

Merlin Dragon Age!AU

I made a whole written out, in detail plot for this but here’s the pre TL:DR for anyone who just doesn’t want to read me describing it all. Though all their positions in this world are described in the text if you want more info.

Uther Pendragon: Knight Commander of the Knights Templar in the Free Marches Arthur Pendragon: Knight Captain of the Knights Templar in the Free Marches (leaves his position and ends up being the Inquistion’s Military Advisor when the Breach appears in the sky after the explosion at the conclave) Morgana Pendragon: Grew up in the Circle of Magi in the Free Marches and ran away when the Mage Rebellion began (comes back to help the Inquisition later and her and Arthur mend their broken relationship) Merlin: A powerful mage that is the bridge between the Fade (the world of spirits and darkspawn) and Thedas (the mortal plain). His destiny is to aid the Inqusition in closing the Breach and saving both worlds. Gwen: A Seeker in the Order of the Seekers of Truth meant to keep the Templars in check. She invokes the right to start an Inquisition after the Breach appears as she sees the Templar Order has become corrupt and can no longer work in the best interest of Thedas. Will: He’s literally the Inquisitor and doesn’t know why the hell the Maker chose him to have this glowing green thing on his arm that gives him the power to seal fade rifts but he’s seriously pissed off that the military advisor is a Templar. They’ve made him the leader of the Inquisition just because he happened to be at the Conclave at the explosion and was the only one to survive and gain weird fade powers? Ridiculous. He never wants to walk through the Fade again. He’s going to kick this Archdemon’s ass. It’s on sight.

Ok I put these under the cut because it was getting too long for the “short version.” Gaius: The Inquistion’s physician Daegel: A young mage who was recruited to join the Inquistion and reaaaalllllyyyy wants to study under Merlin The (Main) Knights: Fleshed out more in the text but they come from all over Thedas to train under Arthur to fight for the Inquistion. Out of the group, only Leon is a Templar. 

Uther Pendragon is the Knight Commander of the Knights Templar (thought by many to be next in line to be Knight Vigilant, leader of the entire Templar order) in Starkhaven in the Free Marches. Templars are loyal to the Chantry (Thedas’ main religious organization) and they hunt abominations, apostate mages, and look over the Circles of Magi meant to keep mages in line. Uther’s views towards mages are ruthless and he is more often than not in favor of invoking the Right of Anullment (a practice that not only rids a person of their magic but all emotions) for mages that step even a bit out of turn.

Arthur Pendragon has recently become Knight Captain of the Knights Templar in Starkhaven and was taught from a young age that a mage’s magic was meant to serve the Chantry and the Divine (Head religious figure) and nothing else. But, as his father’s methods concerning mages become more cruel, Arthur begins to second guess if Uther’s ways are what’s best for the people of Starkhaven

Then the Chantry in Kirkwall (another city in the Free Marches) is blown up by an Apostate mage and the Mage Rebellion begins. Morgana Pendragon, Arthur’s sister who’s been, according too Uther, plauged with the burden of magic, runs away during this time. She had spent most of her life in Starkhaven’s opressive Circle of Magi. Arthur is apalled by the actions of Kirkwall’s Knight Commander (who used the power of a red lyrium idol to try and destroy those that went against her) and begins to rethink his loyalty to the Templar Order.

After months of brutal fighting between mages and templars, the Chantry organizes a meeting between the mages and the templars at the Conclave south in Fereldan near the Frostback Mountains. A huge explosion happens at the conclave killing all in attendance including several mage and templar leaders and the Divine herself. A giant veil between the mortal world and the Fade (the world of spirits) appears in the sky and it is known as the Breach. Smaller fade rifts begin to appear all over Thedas and spirits and darkspawn start plaguing the land.

 It becomes clear to Gwen, one of the head Seekers in the order of the Seekers of Truth, that the Templars can no longer be trusted to protect Thedas and that, without the rule of the Divine, the land is weak. With the authority that comes with being a Seeker, a direct servant to the Divine, Gwen invokes the right to form an Inquisition to protect Thedas. Arthur catches wind of her plans and, having always respected the Seekers love for justice, pledges his help. He resigns from his position as Knight Captain in Starkhaven, much to the displeasure of his father, and moves south towards Haven (near the Frostback Mountains in Fereldan) to join th Inquistion.

The thing is, one person did survive the explosion at the conclave and he’s now their prime suspect. Will tries to tell him that he’s just a young man from a farm in Redcliff Village in the Hinterlands who was meant to bring provisions to the meeting at the conclave, but they won’t listen. After the explosion,Will was thrust into the Fade with the Divine and she sacrificed her life so that he could leave the Fade. He woke up in Haven with his arm suddenly glowing green in response to the Breach in the sky. He’s not a mage, never practiced magic. (To skip forward in the game, the green glowing thing is called an Anchor and it was meant to be used by the Archdemon responsible for the explosion to destroy the world and assume the postion of a God but Will touched the Anchor when the Archdemon had an altercation with the Divine and it became a part of him).

After Will proves his mark is useful at closing fade rifts and can even close the breach in the sky, he becomes the leader of the Inquisition upon their arrival in Skyhold (a stronger fort in the Frostback Mountains) after Haven gets destroyed when the Archdemon attacks with his dragon. Will hates being Inquisitor. He never wanted to be in charge. But this is bigger than what he wants. He just wishes he didn’t have to work with a bloody Templar. Him and Arthur do not get along. Will has always had a deep distrust towards Templars and towards the whole Chantry system. He regularly tells Arthur he wishes a Wayvern would just get it over with and swallow him whole already. Arthur is not amused.

Of course one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas comes rolling into Skyhold because why not. Merlin has been a nomad for the past few years, aiding mages where he could and trying to help those effected by the recent Mage Rebellions. Turns out the man just... walks in the fade. He can’t actually close rifts like Will and can’t really do anything about the situation itself on such a large scale but he does just talk to spirits a lot to get their advice. Daegel, a young mage who had joined to help the Inquisiton, once asks him what his branch of magic specialization is, and Merlin just shrugs and responds “all I suppose.” Daegel never stops bothering him after that day because Merlin is insanely powerful and Daegel needs to learn from him. He just needs to.

Arthur is pissed off by Merlin’s connection to the Fade. It’s a dangerous place crawling with malicious spirits and darkspawn. He distrusts Merlin deeply in the beginning and is weary with how freely Merlin demonstrates his fade magic around others. Merlin assures him he only ever really talks to the good spirits. Somehow, that doesn’t ease Arthur’s worries.

Also, they find themselves on missions together all the time and Arthur just gets bullied by Will and Merlin who’ve become great friends. Also, Merlin is capable of blood magic but he hates using it. I imagine they encounter some situation involving the Deep Roads (roads under Thedas that were used for trade by the Dwarves but are now usually crawling with Darkspawn) where Merlin does have to use blood magic to get them past something and Arthur’s legitmately frightened for him because he’s seen mages get posessed while using blood magic before. Merlin just tells him to relax because “this spirit owes me a specific favor, he’s not actually capable of possessing me after I bound him last time” and Arthur’s just like “!!!! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!!!!” He doesn’t use blood magic again after that around Arthur because the Templar looked like he was about to pass out. Merlin isn’t really fond of it anyway so its fine.

Morgana shows up at the Inquisiton at some point and Arthur is just shocked to see her. They really don’t know how to act around another because Morgana still thinks Arthur hates mages as much as Uther and Arthur thinks she can never forgive him for all the lies he belived, all the hurt he caused her. Morgana becomes a great spymaster for the Inquistion, having gained many connections in her time spent travelling.

Some of the strongest fighters in the Inquistion are Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan, and Mordred. Leon grew up with Arthur in Starkhaven and followed him to Fereldan. Lancelot has always wanted to be a Templar but never got to join the order because he was busy taking care of his ill mother. It may have been a blessing in disguise because he begins to see the atrocities the Templars are responsible for and how some have even been corrupted and joined the Archdemon. He fights for the Inquistion tho because he sees it as a noble cause. Gwaine comes from Fereldan and has been looking for this type of adventure. He’s not exactly pleased he’s under the command of and surrounded by Templars, but he’s here for the journey and the found family.

Percival is from Kirkwall but had traveled south to Fereldan when his family was killed by Templars during the battle between Mages and Templars after the Chantry explosion. Elyan is also a Seeker along with his sister and trains under Arthur to hone his fighting abilities. He does help Gwen with organizational matters concerning the Inquistion. Mordred is one of the few mages who also chose to fight as a knight of the Inquisiton. Other mages opted usually to use just magic and trained on their own. Mordred wanted the advantage of both swordskill and magic so he works twice as hard as anyone in Skyhold. He really makes Arthur rethink some of the values he’s been raised with all his life.

Anyway that’s where I’m leaving it because I’ve spent an hour on this. Haven’t even gotten to who would be the Inquistions Ambassador. Or anything about Greywardens or who the Hero of Fereldan was or if Hawke is still just Hawke or if I replace the Champion of Kirkwall with another Merlin character. Might screw around and make a part 2 who knows.

Sapphire's WiP Wednesday OC Introduction - Part II

New Wednesday, a new part of my OC introduction! Did I mention that all of my Dragon Age stories have their own World State? So, today's Fanfic is technically an AU to Light and Shield. Yes, I've written an AU to my own Fanfic. Yes, I'm crazy. Yes, I'm riding the polyamory trope in this one. Sorry not sorry. :D

The Commander's Ruby (orig. title: "Der Rubin des Kommandanten")< (main idea: I wanted to write porn/smut and BDSM with Mina as a Sub. But my Light and Shield!Cullen didn't fit for that role. On AO3 is a fantastic BDSM-series with a guest appearance of Knight-Captain Rylen (look here!) and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. And now here we are!)

Oh, TW rape and PTSD for the following, people!

Mina Russelton

Regarding appearance, background and personality, Mina is mostly the same person as in Light and Shield. The differences are: she has more scars on her skin because of Ser Albert's brutality, some really special quirks (e.g. avoiding taking things in her mouth, don't like being touched or feeling wood in her back) and her PTSD has a far more impact on her character at the beginning of the story. She has nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks and tends to self-harm under pressure. Also, she sometimes shows small cognitive impairments. She was made violently infertile at the age of twenty-three and healers told her she would never have children of her own.

The Inquisitor sides with the templars and disbands the order. Her fate would be to become a slave of Tevinter. Instead, she flees from Redcliffe to the Inquisition where she meets Cullen.  (my headcanon) Cullen is much more sexually experienced and also more self-confident, he is dominant and his character development is more advanced than canon as well. He knows the failures of the Templar-Order, the Chantry and himself and wants to do better with the Inquisition. As commander, he is determined to protect the mages that have already joined the Inquisition, which means he has to find the mage hating and guilty templars in his army and render them harmless. He also suffers from his own PTSD and the lyrium withdrawal. 

When Mina arrives in Haven, he recognizes her and takes on the task of protecting her. She remembers the friendship they had back in her childhood and starts trusting him. She becomes battle mage of the Inquisition. Cullen falls in love with her. However, he hides it because of her past in the Circle. He is sure she will never reciprocate it just as never having sex at all. In particular, considering his special kinks in bed. But their relationship grows deeper and deeper. When the Inquisition settles in Skyhold he publicly announces that they are romantically involved, primarily to keep Mina safe and unmolested. He is truly surprised when she confesses she developed romantic feelings for him. So, their relationship is general knowledge. Not everyone takes this well at first.  Cullen works a lot for her sex education and she slowly starts discovering her own sexuality and battling her trauma. She is submissive (and quite kinky actually) and becomes Cullen's pet.  The discipline as a Sub helps her a lot in controlling her magical power. Cullen arranges for her a (secret) short time affair with his best friend and second-in-command Rylen, which leads to them falling in love with each other and ends up in a triangle relationship.

Because of her openly known romance with Cullen Mina has a close connection to the inner circle of the Inquisition. She hates the attention she receives as Cullen's partner and tries to avoid it. Nevertheless, she has to deal with the responsibility for the mages, which she reluctantly accepts.  In Halamshiral she gets announced as "Lady Commander Mina Russelton, former member of Fereldan Circle and battlemage of the Inquisition". She will never get rid of the title of Lady Commander.

Cullen calls her Love, his pet name for her is Kitten. Rylen names her Sweety (I'm still indecisive about the translation of Rylens german nickname for her). In the barracks, they call her Commander's Ruby because of her red hair, his protectiveness (and the fact, that she sometimes smooth Cullen's mood with sex, so he is a little more lenient with the recruits). She has a fondness for Starkhaven whisky and likes to snack nuts because they're small and easy to eat.   Thanks to Cassandra and Cullen Mina is well trained and a real horror on the battlefield for enemies. Besides fighting with her staff and staff blade, she is later able to handle small daggers. Varric mentions she is good at breaking noses of cheeky soldiers.

And again, important supporting characters under the cut! :)

2. Ser Raphael

Look here!

3. Telven Lavellan

Herald of Andraste and later Inquisitor in The Commander's Ruby. He is an archer rouge, Tempest specialisation and romances Josephine (after having a crush on Solas who rejects him). His plan to bring the Templar-Order under the control of the Inquisition and then offer an alliance to the mages fails because of Corypheus and the Venatori. He is allergic to injustice and oppression (and bullshit), judges Cullen's past at Kirkwall's Circle harshly but supports him in becoming a better man and getting trough his lyrium withdrawal.  Telven likes Solas but can't stand his ancient elven-superiority-shit.  He makes softened Leliana Divine. Varric calls him sometimes Tree Cuddler.

4. Bella Thornten

She is a mage from Ostwick and spirit healer. She becomes responsible for Mina's health after she arrives at Haven and is one of her very first friends. 

5. Flora

Flora is a middle-aged mage from Starkhaven and Mina's roommate in Haven. She is one of the Inquisition researchers, lesbian and keeps an eye on Mina. Later she teaches her a bit of Starhaven accent and culture. Flora is often Mina's first point of contact for questions of all kinds.

6. Ser Albert Dubois

For his character and background look here!  He is part of the templars that get committed by the Inquisition. He can hide at first, but Mina recognizes him at Haven and panics. She decides with Cullen’s help to do a testimony about his crimes which leads to some mages follow suit and a lot of arrests. The Inquisitor later judges and executes him. 

7. Lillith Mahariel

Hero of Ferelden and Warden-Commander of Fereldan Grey Wardens, in a relationship with Leliana and currently on the search for the cure of the Taint. Two-Weapon-Rouge who is completely oblivious to the fact that Alistair felt hopeless in love with her (he never said anything as he didn't want to bother the luck of his friends. Leliana knows anyway.) Named her mabari Pumpkin. Sometimes luckier than wits but has a good heart. 

Thoughts, ideas and questions are highly welcomed! :)

From the hug prompts: a sleepy hug, for any character you choose, please :)

You inspired an entire story, thank you!! I’m excited about this. Posted on AO3 here, if you’re interested! Basically: Kirkwall's burned, and Hawke has to lead their friends through the Marches with the Chantry and Starkhaven's army on their tail. It's two long, hard weeks to get to Fenris' contacts in Wycombe, and the physical exhaustion and terror may not be the hardest challenge ahead of them. There is so much they have all hidden from each other, and it is past the time to talk it out.

The trek to Wycombe was exhausting. Isabela’s ship had been run aground and commandeered by templars associated with the Starkhaven army. They had to bundle Anders and Merrill out in coffins, conveniently left empty. Varric had thought it was hilarious. Anders was less amused. The first inn they stopped at wouldn’t take elves, either, and Hawke had to be talked out of making a scene. “Enough,” Merrill says, exhausted. “Let’s just get to the woods. We can take turns keeping watch.” Hawke eyes their friends. Fenris and Isabela are half-carrying Anders, who took a Smite and a slash from a templar’s sword. Aveline’s hair is singed from getting in the way of Bethany’s fireblast, and Varric has been muttering to himself the entire time. Out of all of them, he is the one who should have remained in Kirkwall. Aveline would follow Hawke to the ends of the earth, and has, but Varric has no skin in this game. Except these are his friends. These are their friends. “Fine,” Hawke says. “But what’ll be there? Half the mages in Kirkwall, and half the templars too. It’s not going to be an easy night.” “It’s never easy,” Fenris says. “We need to get moving. There’s a cave the Underground uses that’s too far. Hopefully it’s not too full.” Hawke is too tired to be annoyed. They stride on ahead, hands on both their daggers, while Varric covers them from the back. They should not be angry Fenris knows more about Anders and his Underground than them. They should not be angry their two best friends kept them well out of their riskiest enterprise--planning a revolution to free the slaves of Thedas. They understand they wanted to protect them, after Leandra was killed. They know that, intellectually. But they’re upset, they almost feel betrayed. They knew Anders was planning something, and they had guessed it was huge. They weren’t an idiot, they knew what sela petrae could do. But they had thought he would tell them about the Underground before Fenris. For the love of the Maker, they had a sister in the Circle! They had spent their whole life hunted, because of the Chantry’s hatred of mages. Anders could have trusted them. He should have. Aveline says, “You’re upset.” Hawke says testily, “Is it so obvious? Kirkwall’s on fire, we’re on the run, and Anders might be dying. And I don’t think a dragon lady is going to drop out of the sky and save us this time.”   Aveline touches their arm. “We made it through Lothering, Hawke. We survived the Deep Roads. The Qunari. It’s not going to end here.” She releases a shaky breath. “Maker’s breath, I won’t let it end here. Not until I can pummel Fenris for not telling me.” “Ah,” Hawke says. “I’ll join in.” “I can hear you,” Fenris drones from the background. They trip off the main road and into the woods now, and it is safer to talk about what they have just survived. “It was all need-to-know, and you didn’t need to know. Once we found out Meredith requested the Rite of Annulment, we had to act quickly.” “Yeah,” Varric says, “but you didn’t have to blow up the fucking city.” “Oh yes,” Fenris says. “I should’ve just let them kill Bethany and Anders, and continue to enslave the Tranquil.” “I’m not saying that!” Varric snaps. “Yes, you are,” Bethany mutters. “Can we not fight right now?” Isabela says. “Like, can we wait til Anders isn’t bleeding to death on me at least, before we all turn on each other?” “No one’s fighting,” Aveline says reproachfully. “Everyone is,” Bethany says darkly. “You’re not helping,” Aveline says. Hawke says, “Andraste’s ass, everyone. Chill.” This is not as bad as their mother blaming them for Carver’s death right over his body, Bethany staring wide-eyed while Aveline buries her own husband. They have been through worse. Still, it’s not a walk in the Viscount’s Garden. “Fenris, you’re the only one who knows where this cave is. I’ll take Anders. Bela, you cover him. Merrill, help me out here.”  Anders is not really conscious. Hawke hefts him onto one shoulder, and Merrill takes his other arm, and together they drag him through the undergrowth. He’s muttering to himself, and it doesn’t sound like Common. “Do you think Justice has taken over?” Hawke mutters to Merrill, hoping Varric can’t hear them. “I think he’s put himself in a healing sleep,” Merrill says. “Tricky, that. I wonder who taught him. I didn’t think Andrastians trusted the Fade enough.” A ghost of a smile crosses Hawke’s face. “You haven’t answered my question.” Merrill looks at them from the corner of her eye but keeps levering Anders forward. It’s hard work, moving him. They ought to have kept him in the coffin, easier to transport that way. Hawke laughs to themself. And if he dies, they could’ve burned and buried him right there. The grieving could come later, like it did with Carver. They reach a mossy cliff-face. Fenris is looking up, frowning. Hawke and the rest catch up. Carefully, they put Anders down. Aveline changes his bandages, glowering at the state of his wound. Clouds are gathering ahead and the night is coming dark and fast. They haven’t enough food, either. Hawke puts their head in their hands for a second, trying to calm themself down. They’ve spent their whole life being chased. This is nothing new. Merrill puts her arm around them silently, and they listen to Fenris, Bethany, and Varric quarrel. “We use these caves to smuggle escaped slaves from Tevinter,” Fenris says stiffly. “I trust this network with my life. They have saved my life.” “Yeah, well, Feynriel said that about Samson, and look where he ended up,” Varric says. “Blondie needs medical attention. He needs rest. What makes you think these people won’t just sell him out? Just because they were good to you doesn’t mean they’ll protect the rest of us, too.” “Varric,” Bethany says, “you don’t know a thing about Samson and Feynriel, so please. Please. The less you know about the mage underground, the better. It’s safer for us that way. But trust us. We’re not walking into an ambush, I promise. But we can’t tell you more than that. I’ll go first up the cliff if that makes you feel better.” “That doesn’t, Sunshine,” Varric sighs. He rubs the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache coming. He probably does. Hawke doesn’t blame him. “Fine. But I can’t believe you kept this secret from me. Broody, I thought you hated mages.” Fenris says, “I’ve been sleeping with Anders since the riot at the docks, Varric.” Isabela calls over, “Doesn’t mean you like him!” Fenris gives Hawke such a look of exasperated despair that they laugh. They shake Merrill off and take charge, because clearly no one else is going to, and as they quibble Anders continues to bleed, and they are not sure what Justice will do next. “How do we get up there?” Hawke says. “I’m assuming it’s up the cliff. I don’t think Merrill can levitate us all up. Do we have enough rope to climb it?” It’s Isabela who scales the cliff like she’s been doing it all her life, knotting a harness up and throwing it down to carefully pull everyone up. They load Anders onto Aveline’s back and tie him to her. Varric freezes halfway up, afraid of heights, but Isabela and Fenris just yank him straight in, and he screams so loudly the birds fly from the trees. “Well,” Bethany says, “so much for being discreet.” “We carried them out in coffins, Bethany,” Hawke says. “And then Merrill jumped out and dragged Anders up, still breathing, and then pranced down the street. We are incapable of being discreet. We have never been discreet. Even in Lothering, people thought we were weird.” “I blended in, thanks very much,” Bethany bickers. “Anyway, you go up. I’ll spot you. Please.” Hawke opens their mouth to protest but Bethany glares, and they back down. “All my life, you’ve tried your best to protect me. Let me have your back this time. Please.” It is difficult to say no to her, so Hawke trusts in her magic, and climbs up. Of course Bethany has their back. They clamber up the rock, shaking with exhaustion. Varric wasn’t irrational to scream. The rope burns their hands, the moss makes their feet slip, and the stone itself is cold. They drag themself over the final foot, and Isabela helps hoist them up. “Bethany, hurry up!” they call back down. She looks small, from all the way up here, and she’s never been one for running outdoors, not like Carver was. Bethany huffs, grabs the rope, and marches herself up, less winded than Hawke themself. “Fast enough for you?” Bethany asks. Hawke just smiles back, relieved. They hug her and Bethany rests her head on their shoulder. Kirkwall was supposed to be the end of it all, but at least they have each other. Isabela gives them a moment before taking them deeper in the cave. It’s well-provisioned, and even painted, in a distinctly elvhen style. Representatives of a mad wolf flank the mouth of the cave. Hawke reaches out to touch it, but Isabela shakes her head. They head in, wondering. Some of the depictions are maps, another is of the constellations, and a few are just name: ƛήτω, Ϝα⍴ɑνɩα, and then an alphabet they didn’t recognized. Hawke points to it. “What’s that?” “Sindarin,” Merrill says shortly. “The oldest language on this land. I can’t read it, Clan Sabrae is from what you call Antiva. Fenris would know better than me.” In the back, Aveline and Fenris have taken out the blankets and constructed almost a pillowfort for Anders. Varric is rummaging through various jars, sniffing at them suspiciously. They’ve changed Anders’ bandages and are setting up for the night. Hawke is gripped by a fierce rush of love. They’ve survived worse. They’ve found shelter for the night, and food, and medicine. They will get through the night, and perhaps that means they can get through the day as well. “How many caves are there like this?” Varric says, peering into a terracotta jar painted green. “Is this all Dalish? Or do the mages use them too?” “It’s the underground,” Fenris says quietly, fingers on Ander’s neck. He is checking his pulse. Merrill witches up some fairylight, and the scene grows positively cozy. “Everyone who needs them uses them. Varric, don’t ask me anymore. You don’t want to know.” “You keep saying that,” Hawke says, “but we really want to. We’re your friends, Fenris. After everything we’ve all been through together, some transparency would be--decent.” Anders shifts suddenly. He cries out. Fenris focuses in, and Aveline turns over and shakes her head at Hawke. They let out a short, angry burst of air out of their nose, like a horse, and exchange a glance with Varric. “Let’s just get some sleep,” Aveline says. “It’s a fortnight of walking before we get to Wycombe. We need to preserve our energy.” Hawke backs down, and they set up camp. Fenris sits by Anders’ bedroll, holding his hand now. That is yet another thing the two would never talk about--Hawke knows they killed a guard and had to hide out for awhile, and it has something to do with the riot at the docks last year, but Merrill advised them not to pry. Hawke leans against the cave wall and closes their eyes. Bethany wouldn’t write about how bad things were in the Circle, Aveline wouldn’t talk about how bad things were getting in the guards, and Varric kept dodging talking about Bartrand and their parents. They’re tired of the silences. They all know each other too well, to ignore this. Varric sits down heavily next to them. His face is gray with exhaustion. Hawke, half-asleep, wraps him in a hug. Varric sighs into their embrace. Everyone is silent. Even Isabela is quiet. They drift off to sleep, holding onto their friend, and when they wake up in the pale morning, Varric is still at their side, Bethany drooling on their shoulder, and Isabela is using their legs like a pillow. They smile slightly. They have made it through the night, and now the morning seems possible.

You’re Enchanting--Chapter Four

Summary:  Delphine always told Elazar she would do anything to help him if he was ever in trouble, even knowing his knack for finding it. She didn’t expect to be helping him save the world after someone blows up the Conclave and tears a hole in the sky. Nor did Delphine expect to be falling for anyone, let alone a troubled, former templar, while she’s watching her best friend shape the future of their world with a green glowing hand.

Pairings: Cullen/Trevelyan & Dorian/Lavellan

Warnings: Canon typical violence, a wild Sera appears, and some small disagreements between our beloved advisors

Can be found on AO3

Notes: We’ve passed the 15,000 word mark with this chapter! Thanks for reading! Comments and feedback appreciated!

[Masterlist] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five]

Chapter Four- Starlight

Everyone in their little party was shaken in some way or another as they departed Val Royeaux. The Chantry was denouncing Elazar as a false prophet, and the Inquisition as illegitimate by extension, the Lord Seeker was leading the templars away from the people and Grand Enchanter Fiona was not only alive but had inviting them to Redcliffe. How quickly the world could turn on its head these days.

The unease remained as they arrived at the estate described in the notes. They had made quick work of the guards on their way to the estate’s inner courtyard.

“I don’t like this,” Del whispered to El as they spotted an Orlesian masked man in the center of the courtyard.

Elazar could only shrug as they approached.

“Herald of Andraste! How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!”

Delphine shared a disgusted look with her elvish friend as they recognized the self-important drawl in his voice. This must have been the manor’s Lord.

“I don’t know who you are!” Elazar shouted back, obviously unamused at the development.

“You don’t fool me! I’m too important for this to be an accident. My efforts will survive in victories against you elsewhere!”

Varric didn’t even bother to hide his chuckle at the short man’s martyrdom speech.

Elazar looked ready to snap back at the man when one of the guards behind the Lord abruptly collapsed, an arrow stuck in his back. Everyone’s heads whipped towards the flash of red that was suddenly pointing their knocked bow at the Lord.

“Just say “what!”” They threatened.

The Lord was obviously dense, “what is the-”  

And just like that the Lord took an arrow to the face, collapsing to floor. So much for trying to question him.

“Eww!” Delphine studied the archer as she went about collecting her arrow from the Lord’s face. An elf with choppy blonde hair and a large grin that could rival Elazar’s. “Squishy one, but you heard me, right? “Just say ‘what.’” Rich tits always try for more than they deserve. “Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Arrow in my face!” So, you followed the notes well enough. Glad to see you’re…” the woman looked over Elazar rather obviously, “and you’re an elf. Well. Hope you’re not too elfy. I mean, it’s all good, innit? The important thing is: you glow? You’re the Herald thingy?”

Herald thingy? Del was going to have to start calling El that.

“They say I’m the Herald of Andraste. But who are you, and what’s this about?” Elazar sounded rather diplomatic, was he spending time with Josephine without her knowing?

“No idea. I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

“Your people? Elves?” At least Elazar sounded as confused as Delphine felt.

“Ha! No. People people. Name’s Sera. This is cover,” The blonde grinned, gesturing to a stack of crates, “get 'round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches.”

No breeches?

Their attention shot to the gates on the far end of the courtyard as more guards charged in, all missing their breeches. That was not something Del had ever wanted to see.

“Why didn’t you take their weapons?!” Varric shouted at the elven archer as they began to fend off the half-naked men.

“Because breeches!”

.

The fight did not last long when their opposition had such obvious vulnerabilities. It may have also helped that their group consisted of three mages, two archers and a Seeker. Del was not well versed in archery but Sera was skilled, taking down her fair share of the guards. Varric seemed pleased by the development as well.

As the last soldier fell, the elf’s joyous shout filled the courtyard, “right in the plums!”

After what she had seen, Del did not need any more mental images of that. She hoped that this was the last they’d be seeing of men with no breeches, not that the images weren’t already burned into her memory.

“Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches. So Herald of Andraste. You’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

Elazar quirked an eyebrow, “all I know about you or your group is that I followed a random trail into a trap.”

“What trap?” The blonde scoffed, “you knocked, he crapped. It’s… look, it’s like this. I sent you a note to look for hidden stuff by my friends. The friends of Red Jenny. That’s me. Well, I’m one. So is a fence in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or something. It’s a just a name, yeah? It lets little people, “friends,” be part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate. So here, in your face, I’m Sera. “The Friends of Red Jenny” are sort of out there. I used them to help you. Plus arrows.”

That made some sense, in a very roundabout sort of way. Elazar still looked rather confused. She and Varric would have to explain it again on their trip home.

“The Inquisition is almost an army now. Can you add to it?”

Sera folded her arms, just shy of glaring at Elazar. “Here’s how it is. You “important” people are up here, shoving you cods around, “blah, blah, I’ll crush you!” “I’ll crush you.”” Sera added in some kissing noises, which Del could agree was actually fairly accurate for the squabbles she knew of back in the Free Marches. “Ahem. Then you’ve got generals and oath belchers, and sure, you have soldiers. Like the dead guys protecting that other dead guy. All those helmets, and what gave them up? Some drunk gets a key lifted because someone’s got bills. So no, I’m not a captain swordface, all marchy. But if you don’t listen down here too, you risk your breeches. Like those guards, I stole their… look, do you need people or not? I want to get everything back to normal. Like you?”

Elazar looked back to Del, his eyes wide. It was unlike El to look to her for decision making. He always went with his gut. “You’re the Herald, El.”

“All right, Sera.” Elazar looked back to the rogue, lips pressed together in a thin line, “I can use you and your friends.”

Sera’s grin split across her face, “yes! Get in good before you’re too big to like. That’ll keep your breeches where they should be.”

Del sure hoped so.

“Plus extra breeches, because I have all these… you have merchants who buy that pish, yeah? Got to be worth something. Anyway, Haven. See you there Herald. This will be grand.”

As quickly as she had appeared, Sera sauntered off, humming a tune rather loudly as she did.

“So…ready to go the Duke’s party now?” Varric looked rather smug as Cassandra stood there slack-jawed.

.

“This one is on you.” Elazar leaned over to whisper as Del as the Duke’s staff took their riding cloaks.

“They’re going to want to talk to the Herald, not me,” she hissed back. Although she was the noble-born of their odd pair, this was not close to any situation her tutors had prepared her for. They were both wearing armor and carrying their staffs for heaven’s sake!

El glared back, “I got us Red Jenny, now you get us Madame de Fer.”

She was going to throttle the elf before this incredibly long night was over.

The crier motioned them forward, prepared to announce them to the other guests. Del slipped her arm around Elazar’s as they stepped forward, trying to look somewhat formal as the Herald’s plus one.

“Lord Lavellan and Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick, representing the Inquisition.”

As El openly admired the opulence and finery around them, they were quickly approached by an Orlesian pair.

“A pleasure, ser and lady.” The lord greeted, Del bowed her head back seeing as she wasn’t wearing a dress to curtsey in. “We so rarely have a chance to meet anyone new. It is always the same crowd at these parties. So you must be a guest of Madame de Fer. Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

“Are you here on business? I have heard the most curious tales of you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.” The woman was just as curious as her counterpart and just as blunt. They did not appear to be all that good at the Game with such straightforward questions.

A toothy grin split across Elazar’s face, “everything you’ve heard? Completely true.”

Maker’s balls Elazar was going to ruin the Inquisition before Cassandra and the others could get it off the ground.

“Better and better,” the lady cooed, “the Inquisition should attend more of these parties.”

“The Inquisition? What a load of pig shit!” Another heavily accented voice cut through the noise of the party. Del quickly spotted another lord descending the stairs to the foyer. “Washed-up sisters and crazed seekers? No one can take them seriously. Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

Delphine would not call the Left and Right Hands of the Divine political outcasts, nor would she call Cassandra crazed to her face.

“The Inquisition is working to restore peace and order to Thedas.” Elazar was turning on what charm he could summon in their current company but Del could feel the crackling energy running around him. There was no way this was going to end well.

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army! We know what your “Inquisition” truly is. If you were a man of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”

This man did realize Elazar was a mage, right? He was so sure of himself that he would challenge a mage to a duel?

Del bit back her retort as the air around them snapped with cold. The lord stilled as his torso was suddenly trapped in ice.

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house to my guests. You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

When Delphine had first heard about Madame de Fer in the Circle she had been amazed. The woman had single-handedly turned the position of court jester into a seat of power. She was an advisor to the Empress of Orlais. Mages could only dream of holding such positions, and the power to exert change. Del had never met the Enchanter but she had imagined someone of great poise and elegance. Vivienne exceeded that image as she approached them.

“Madame Vivienne, I humbly beg your pardon!” The Marquis stuttered, frozen, literally, as the woman of the hour approached.

“You should. Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?”

It almost sounded as if the Enchanter was enjoying this, though if Del was in her position, maybe she would be enjoying the power too.

Vivienne turned to Elazar, her perfectly shaped eyebrow quirked, “my Lord, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

The crackling around El began to melt away as he eyed the Marquis. Del let go of the breath she had been holding, thankful El’s calm nature had returned.

“The Marquis doesn’t interest me. Do whatever you like with him,” he shrugged.

Vivienne tutted, “poor Marquis, issuing challenges and hurling insults like some Ferelden dog lord.” She snapped, releasing the man from her ice spell. “And all dressed up in your Aunt Solange’s doublet. Didn’t she give you that to wear to the Grand Tourney? To think, all the brave chevaliers who will be competing left for Markham this morning… and you’re still here. Were you hoping to sate your damaged pride by defeating the Herald of Andraste in a public duel? Or did you think his sword would end the shame of your failure? Run along, my dear. Do give my regards to your aunt.”

El didn’t do a very good job of hiding his snicker behind a sudden coughing fit.

“I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering I’ve so wanted to meet you.” The Enchanter’s smile was dazzling as she motioned for them to follow her further into the mansion, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmand and Enchantress to the Imperial Court.”

Del and El both smiled back as they reached a secluded hallway overlooking the grand estate.

“Is that Marquis going to pose a problem?” Del was not an expert on Orlesian politics, but she knew that pissing off one lord or lady could cause a tidal wave of problems down the road.

“His aunt is the Vicomtess of Mont-de-Glace. Not a powerful family but well-respected…and a very devout. Alphonse will be disowned for this. It’s not the first time he’s brought his aunt disgrace, but I’m sure it will be the last. And after such a public humiliation, I expect he’ll run off to the Dales to join the Empress’s war effort. Either to make a good end or win back a modicum of self-respect.”

Maybe this would be alright for them after all. Josephine wouldn’t lose her head at least.

“But I didn’t invite you to the chateau for pleasantries.”

Those were the pleasantries?

“With Divine Justinia dead, the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

Delphine wished El would at least not look so dour at her proposition. Even if Elazar wanted to approach his fellow rebels for help, having the loyal mages on their side, at least in name was nothing to sneeze at.

“And you interest in the Inquisition, Madame de Fer, is it personal or professional?”

Del suppressed a groan. He had wanted her to lead this, so why was he trying to be antagonistic now?

“Aren’t you charming? It’s professional, of course.” At least Vivienne wasn’t offended.

“You say you led the last of the loyal mages. Loyal to whom?” Elazar pressed.

To reach the heights Vivienne had achieved as a Circle mage, she had beyond mastered The Game, and it showed. Not a muscle twitched. Not a speck of untoward emotion behind her eyes. If Vivienne was not pleased with Elazar’s questioning, she did not let it show.

“To the people of Thedas, of course. We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have, that magic exists to serve man. I support any effort to restore such order.”

Elazar tensed at the intentional dig. This was not going in a direction that would benefit them. Del dug her nails into El’s arm, her silent plea for him to take a breath and think about their situation.

“And what do you get from this, Madame? You would only seek out the Inquisition if it was to your benefit.”

Vivienne’s eyes sparkled beneath her ornate mask at Delphine’s question, “you’re quite right darling. I would get the same thing anyone else gets by fighting this chaos: the chance to meet my enemy, to decide my fate. I won’t wait quietly for destruction.”

Her words echoed a speech Delphine remembered vividly, one that had sent chills down her spine and sent her mind reeling at the events that would overtake their usually quiet lives. They may be on separate sides of this war but they all understood the sentiments behind one’s desire for choice.

Del nudged Elazar, causing the surprised expression to slip off his features. She knew he understood that despite their differences they needed the Enchanter’s support. “The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne.”

A delicate smile grew on the poised woman’s lips, “great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that.”

.

Delphine finally understood why Elazar had been moving nonstop since the Conclave. It was not so much a sense of urgency but it was to keep the dread at bay. As they returned to Haven Delphine felt the sorrow and melancholy return. It had been gnawing at her since the explosion but traveling with the others seemed to keep it at arm’s length, their banter enough to occupy her mind with distractions. Haven did not seem to afford her the same luxury anymore. People were still pouring into Haven, seeking answers, or searching out their friends and families. The wails haunted Del as families learned their loved ones were not among the handful of survivors. That could have easily been her, tear-stained face cursing the Maker for allowing such a tragedy. On the nights she couldn’t sleep it almost was her.

Her sudden mood swing must have been written plainly on her face. El linked his arm with hers, his warmth and less-than-subtle calming aura spell soothing away some of the darkness that had fallen upon their arrival.

In his eternal quest to be cheery, Elazar waved to Cullen and his lieutenants as they departed the makeshift stables. The Commander nodded back in greeting his expression rather stoic as he watched them stroll into the village, Del and El still linked at the elbow.

Josephine greeted them with a restrained smile when they arrived at the chapel. “It’s good you’ve returned. We heard of your encounter.”

“You heard?”

Del wasn’t sure why Cassandra was surprised. They knew Leliana had people in Val Royeaux.

“My agents in the city sent word ahead, of course.”

Cullen strolled in behind them, brow furrowed, “it’s a shame the Templars have abandoned their sense as well as the Capital.”

“At least we know how to approach the mages and templars now.” El shrugged, though Del knew he was anything but apathetic about the situation.

“Do we?” Cassandra countered, “Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember.”

Leliana nods, “true. He has taken the Order somewhere, but to do what, my reports have been…very odd.”

“We must look into it, I’m certain not everyone in the Order will support the Lord Seeker.” Cullen may no longer be a templar but he obviously still held a strong faith in the Order.

“Or the Herald could simply go meet the mages in Redcliffe, instead,” Josephine offered.

After meeting the Lord Seeker Del was more willing to work with Fiona, though Del wasn’t sure if El felt the same way. He appeared to have become rather disillusioned with the Grand Enchanter, and mage authorities in general.

“You think the mage rebellion is more united? It could be ten times worse.”

Cullen obviously hadn’t heard the Lord Seekers' opinions- she hoped that was the case, that he would be much more up in arms if he had- to believe approaching that man would lead to anything productive.

“I could at least find out what the mages want.” El shot back, obviously not fond of Cullen’s insinuations either.

“No doubt what they’ve always wanted. Support for their cause.”

“We shouldn’t discount Redcliffe, the mages might be worth the risk.” Josephine, ever the ambassador, was not one to share her opinion on the Mage-Templar war, and Del had never thought to ask.

Cassandra almost sounded disdainful, “they are powerful, ambassador, but more desperate than you realize.”

El scoffed, “so it will be dangerous. I’ve been in danger since I walked out of the Fade.”

Del looked to Elazar, wide-eyed. Did he really feel that unsafe?

“If some among the rebel mages were responsible for what happened at the Conclave…”

“The same could be said about the templars.”

It appeared the Inquisition was just as split and heated about the topic as the rest of Thedas.

“True enough.” Cullen cut in, glowering a bit at his advisors. “Right now I’m not sure we have enough influence to approach either side safety.”

Heads seemed to cool at that. There was no point fighting about who to ally with when neither would actually speak with them.

“Then the Inquisition needs agents in more places. That’s something you can help with.” Cassandra looked pointedly at Elazar, as if he had not just brought Red Jenny and Madame de Fer into the Inquisition during their trip to Val Royeaux.

Josephine nods, “in the meantime, we should consider other options.”

The group agrees and disperses, all in varied levels of frustration. This was more of what Delphine pictured when she arrived; hot tempers, gridlock, and frustration.

Leliana lingered, fiddling with her gloves. El quirked an eyebrow at the spymaster.

“There is one other matter. Several months ago the Grey Wardens of Ferelden vanished. I sent word to those in Orlais, but they have also disappeared. Ordinarily I wouldn’t even consider the idea they’re involved in all this, but the timing is…curious.”

The Grey Wardens? They were heroes, especially after all that had happened in the last blight. Delphine prayed to the Maker they weren’t all wrapped up in this too.

“That does sound odd.”

Elazar nods “I agree.”

“The others have disregarded my suspicions. But I cannot ignore it. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands heard news of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. If you have the opportunity please seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

Delphine hated to be negative towards the idea, but she doubted that one Warden could solve the mystery around their disappearance. “And if he can’t?”

“Then there may be more going on than we thought.”

Elazar and Delphine shared a concerned look. Mages, Templars, and now the Grey Wardens. Was anything in their world right anymore?

The Evening Red - Chapter Seven

Rating: E

Summary: The blighted plague at your feet, and ghosts at your bedside. Those things that go bump in the night? They follow behind you. If only you had someone to protect you. A late-Victorian era re-imagining of Dragon Age Origins.

Pairing: Zevran x Female Warden

AO3 Link: Click Here

Chapter Seven: Imminence

“Oh, Duncan,” Wynne says softly, swaying gently in the doorway. She watches as both Noya and Morrigan make their way forward. Morrigan takes interest in the goblet. With her hands on his shoulders, Noya very gently and carefully pushes his body back into the chair. She tips his head back against the crest rail, and sighs as she bends over to look closer. Noya puts one of her hands over his, and clenches his hand into a fist.

“Curious.” Morrigan holds the goblet in her hands, nose curling as she looks at the pool of blood. “This would suggest the presence of those who typically partake in the eating of blood.” Noya’s eyes flick towards Morrigan as she lets go of Duncan’s hand.

“There’s no rigor mortis, and the body is still warm,” she says.

“Interrupted in the middle of the meal, perhaps?”

“It could have been collected for some ritualistic reason as well. Either way, it was likely done after Duncan sent Alistair out. They would have been watching, then, and known that Duncan had no servants, or any other occupants.” Noya points towards the jagged slice across Duncan’s neck. “He fought, that much is clear.”

Morrigan settles the goblet back down onto the table and leans closer. She reaches out, pinches strands of hair between her fingers, and plucks them up from Duncan’s shoulders. “I imagine we’ll find evidence of trauma to his scalp,” she says. She glances towards Duncan’s hands. She picks one up, moves her thumb over knuckle and bone. “There’s nothing underneath his fingernails. Either he didn’t get the chance to, or he simply couldn’t pierce his attackers flesh.”  

“I would wager on not getting the chance to. This reeks of surprise.”

“There was no sign of disturbance when we entered the estate, so it’s entirely possible he was killed before he even had a chance to get out of the chair. Still, it will take a full examination to see if there are bruises elsewhere, and the body was staged for us to find –”

“If you don’t mind,” Wynne says from the threshold, “we should leave this for the police.” Both Noya and Morrigan instantly take a step back from the body, the guilt cascading over their faces. They look at each other uncertainly for a moment, before moving towards Wynne. While Morrigan crosses her arms, Noya reaches out, and puts her hand at Wynne’s shoulder.

“Morrigan can go with Leliana and fetch the police. I’ll talk to Alistair,” Noya says, looking towards Morrigan. A nod of agreement from her, and Noya gives Wynne’s shoulder a small squeeze. Even when they leave, she does not. Wynne rubs her hand against her forehead, leans against the doorframe. She crosses her arms, looks at the long and empty table. The fireplace still burns warmly, without cessation. Her shoes tap across the floor, come to rest beside Duncan. She reaches out, closes his clouded eyes.

“What have we found ourselves in now, old friend?” She murmurs softly.

Alistair is crouched at the very bottom of the shelves, Leliana leaning over him with the candle in her hand. She holds it near the dusty bottles and squints as she tries to read. “There are bottles from all over the world here,” she says in a low voice, as if afraid to disturb the silence of the cellar. A spider watches idly from the corner, content in its web. Alistair reaches out, and plucks one of the bottles from its place. He blows at the label, succeeds in sending a cloud of dust upwards. Leliana coughs, waving her free hand in front of her face.

“Most of them are from Orlais,” he says as he holds the bottle up, “this one is from Rivain.”

“How lovely,” she says as she reaches for it. The glass is cold to her touch, the bottle still quite dusty. She holds the candle closer, rubs her thumb over the label. The details of it slowly become legible. “Are there any from the Free Marches? I hear Starkhaven has a delicious flavor.” Alistair looks over his shoulder up at her, and raises an eyebrow.

“Are you sure you’re a sister of the Chantry?”

“It’s not like I’ve taken any vows yet,” she says cheerfully. They both turn when they hear the door open, creaking footsteps on the stairs. Morrigan lights a flame in the palm of her hand, looks around the cellar with disdain.

“This place is filthy,” she says, her lip curled. Noya shakes her head, and takes the candle from Leliana. The wax drips onto the plate, the lone flame desperately reaching for the ceiling. Alistair stands, brushes the dirt from his trousers, and moves to follow Leliana and Morrigan up the stairs. Noya puts her hand on his arm, keeps him here, instead. Their voices slowly fade, footsteps growing further, and she finally turns to look him in the eye. She can only see part of him; the flame struggling in the overpowering darkness. She puts the candle down on one of the shelves, and steps closer to him. Her hand slips from his arm, to his hand.

She reaches upwards, settles her palm against his cheek. His stubble is rough underneath her fingers, her thumb, as she moves a comforting touch across his cheekbones. “Alistair,” she says, “I have something I need to tell you. You must promise me you won’t do anything rash, first.”

“Rash? I think it’s only fair you tell me what it is before I promise anything. Full knowledge for agreement, and all that. Why are you making me promise anyway? Did Zevran do something to you?” His voice turns from playful worry to full-blown concern, his brows furrowing. He steps closer to her, his hands clenched in fists at his side. Noya shakes her head.

“The reason I sent you away from the dining room. We found Duncan, Alistair. He’s dead.” He blinks at her, looks towards the stairs. It’s Noya’s hand around his, at his face, that keeps him from leaving. “Alistair, look at me.” He does. “Do you understand what I told you?” He doesn’t. “Morrigan and Leliana are fetching the police. Wynne is with the body. I don’t think you should stay here tonight,” she says. He looks at her blankly. Her hand slips from his, and she cups his face.

“Lal,” she says and perhaps it’s the rare use of the nickname which snaps him back to reality. Perhaps it’s just that her earlier words have finally sunk in. Either way, trembling hands wrap around her arms. It’s always been a running joke how much taller he is compared to Noya and Tamlen. How much wider. Yet, here, in her embrace, he seems so small.

---

“Twice, in one week. I don’t like seeing you at all these crime scenes,” Sergeant Kylon says, notepad in one hand and pencil in the other. The four women exchange glances with each other.

“We don’t like being at these crime scenes,” Noya says. Alistair, and a few officers, have gently laid Duncan’s body on the floor, covered him with a sheet. It’s there that he stands and stays, unwilling to leave the body. Kylon grunts amusement, points the end of his pencil towards Alistair.

“Who is he?”

“Sir Duncan’s ward. Having examined the body, we determined that the murder occurred after he sent Alistair away, and before we arrived. That’s a very small timeframe. There’s a possibility Duncan was being watched, and perhaps the murderer may still be watching,” she says.

“Oh so you’re police now?” he says it with skepticism, but he’s writing furiously. He points at a nearby officer, and gives an explicitly clear set of instructions to patrol around the house and apprehend anyone of suspicion. Morrigan is the only one paying attention to Kylon. The other three are watching as Alistair helps lay Duncan’s body onto a stretcher. He’s left behind as they take his body away, and so, he joins the edge of their circle, by Morrigan. He keeps his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. His eyes are red-rimmed, but dry.

“We’ll have to clean up the place,” Kylon says as an officer carefully steps around them, the goblet of blood in his hands, “and investigate the rest of the area. It’s a fairly large estate so it might take us some time. You shouldn’t be on the property until we finish.”

“There’s an empty room next to mine at the hotel, Alistair. I’ll book it for you,” Wynne says. He agrees without argument and with a simple nod. “Perhaps you should pack some things? If Sergeant Kylon doesn’t mind, that is.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, but we do need an officer to go with you and watch. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why,” Kylon says. Another nod, Alistair’s jaw locked shut. “We covered all the questions earlier…. And then some, so you’re free to do as you please. Just, don’t leave Denerim any time soon.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

While Alistair packs his things, the others wait outside. Noya turns her head away from the estate, towards the distant sun disappearing behind rooftops. Its hand still reaches across the sky, clawing at clouds in an effort to remain. It will lose this fight, but Noya knows what comes after. “I’ll arrange a service at the Chantry,” Leliana says quietly. “I’m sure they’ll need to do an autopsy but… after. Alistair’ll be overwhelmed with the… with whatever he needs to do.”

“I’ll see if I can drop in on the autopsy. I’m too close to Duncan to be a part of it, but I can ensure that everything goes smoothly and that the body is delivered to the Chantry you choose, Leliana,” Wynne says. Morrigan has her arms crossed, one finger tapping at the side of her jaw.

“Am I the only one concerned with who might have killed him?” Noya turns her head back to the group at Morrigan’s angry words.

“No, you’re not. A blighted wouldn’t have the mechanical skill to do this, even if they were controlled. You saw how brutish they were when they attacked us. They don’t have the fine motor skills required for this. I do think it is related to the Blight, and that Loghain might be involved,” Noya says. Wynne narrows her eyes. “I meant to bring it up at dinner. I went to the University yesterday, with Alistair. We both saw and heard Loghain telling Duncan that we’re no longer allowed to work on anything to do with the blight. It’s being completely closed off for royally appointed physicians and researchers.”

“Well that’s ridiculous,” Morrigan says, biting at her thumbnail. Wynne takes a deep breath.

“I agree. With Duncan’s death, I am now the Dean of Medicine. It will need to be finalized and put in place by Irving, but after, I’ll petition King Cailan for permissions,” she says. Morrigan moves to reply, but the front door opens – Alistair, with a bag in hand – and she quietly closes her mouth instead. Wynne smiles at him kindly, puts a hand at his back when he joins them.

“How much do I owe you for the hotel?” He asks.

“Oh my dear, nothing, you me nothing. You’ll be doing me a favor by keeping me company. It’s a nice hotel, but very large and very empty. Now I’ll have someone to share dinner with,” she says. She locks her own grief away, for his sake. Wynne and Leliana flank him as they begin to walk down the street, keeping the conversation light and in an entirely other continent of anything related to Duncan. Alistair listens patiently to all of it, but doesn’t say anything in return. Morrigan and Noya walk behind them, quietly contemplative.

“Miss Mahariel.” She turns her head at the sound of her name, isn’t surprised when she sees Zevran behind her. He holds a plain parasol in his hands, protection from the almost sleeping sun. He smiles pleasantly, in a neat suit. On first appearance, it might appear plain, but through the shafts of light, small patterns appear on his jacket. The vest is more outwardly ornate, the tie made of silk. Golden chains mark the presence of his pocket watch, and although he wears a bowler hat, he cannot hide his hair.

“Zevran,” she says. As she stops, so do the others.

“I was wondering if you might enjoy coming with me on an adventure,” he says.

“An – right now?” Noya looks at the others. “It’s not the best time…”

“You should go,” Alistair says. She looks from one to the other, searches for help from Morrigan or Leliana. “Go.” He says it again, a little more insistently, brushing her away. She moves closer to him, her hands on his chest, and lifts herself up onto her tip toes.

“I’ll bring breakfast with me in the morning,” she tells him as she presses the kiss to his cheek. The conversation continues as they split away, with Leliana dragging even Morrigan into it. They go in the opposite direction, and Zevran smiles as Noya walks beside him. He keeps the parasol between them, turning it in his hands so that it spins.

“So Alistair gets a kiss…” Zevran says, leaning over with a smile.

“Would it shock you to know that we’ve slept together?” Almost instantly, Zevran turns on his heel to look behind him, at Alistair’s retreating back. He walks backwards with confidence, and doesn’t miss a step, even as he tilts his head to fully examine Alistair’s form.

“It doesn’t, actually,” he says as he turns back around. They both share a secretive smile before dissolving with laughter. As they sway, their shoulders bump into each other and their hands intuitively entwine. It’s as though, with his presence, the day is swept away and forgotten.

“Tell me about this adventure we’re about to have,” she says, still smiling.

“I was hoping you would accompany me to a showing of A Mabari of No Importance.”

“Is that Tethras’s newest?”

“Indeed it is.”

“I would be delighted, Mr. Arainai,” she says as she links her arm in his.

---

She wears her best. It’s fine enough, perfectly acceptable. More than acceptable. It’s the same as every other noble, every other Lord and Lady who walks the halls of the Royal Palace. Wynne sits patiently outside of a closed door, a stack of papers in her hands. She watches each servant come and go, following their quick steps and listening to their low whispers. Something is happening. Something which keeps her from the throne room, something which sends others away. She’s the only petitioner. “Her Majesty will see you now,” a servant says, bowing low. “If you’ll follow me.”

The hallways seem never ending. It isn’t as oppressively ornate as the Orlesian palaces – Ferelden is much too proud of their own tradition and heritage – but it is still quite impressive. He brings Wynne to a large door, lined with gold leaf. The bowing never ends, as he does another when he opens the door. “Ms. Aequitar, your majesty.”

“I know your name. My husband visited your University.” Anora doesn’t look up from what she’s writing. The light pours in from the large windows behind her, highlight her frame.

“Yes, your majesty. I was hoping to re-open the issue of our research. In the short time that we’ve studied the blight, we’ve made significant progress, and I believe that –”

“Lord Mac Tir has already settled this matter, hasn’t he? There are many doctors in our halls, these days. All of them think – all of them believe they will find a cure,” she says, the scratching of her pen finally pausing. Anora barely lifts her head to look at Wynne. “And they will. Gooday Ms. Aequitar, I hope your journey home is pleasant.”

“If you would, your Majesty –” Wynne steps forward, beginning to hold out the papers she holds. Anora stops her with a flat raised hand.

“Gooday Ms. Aequitar.”

“Your Majesty.” Wynne gives a low courtesy, turns around. The pace she holds is no longer leisurely. She practically marches through the halls, staring down all those who pass her. From the moment she heard that Loghain was shuttering research, she suspected. Anora’s words firmly press her guess into knowing territory. King Cailan has the blight.