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veirasurana · 3 years

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@kura-marty holiday gift for you below; a drabble of our ocs in the circle as kids together :)

Veira

Stretching her arms as far as they would go, Veira exhaled deeply and melted onto the desk in front of her. Various tombs and notes were scattered across the deep cedar desk-- it was -the- desk-- the one that the apprentices deemed the most comfortable, the one that had the best light, most privacy. It was an unspoken privilege to sit here. As luck would have it, Veira got to sit here to study. She could spend hours wondering and debating whether she should sit here--if it was justified by her grades or spell work or whatever. She shook her head. It was just a desk.

After her nice stretch, she took her quill and dipped it into some ink. These notes wouldn’t write themselves. Her tired eyes barely noticed the young apprentice staring from behind a bookshelf, as if they were locked in an internal battle to move out of the protection of their hiding spot. The apprentice was named Alea-- an elf, like her. Alea was an adorable acquaintance, rather shy but a brilliant mage in her own right, exceeding in the study of herbalism and potions. They did often have long talks together about herbal magic and botany, and while it was not a subject Veira was particularly interested in personally, Alea made it sound absolutely fascinating.

Veira smiled softly. “Hello. Did you want to sit here?”

Alea’s shoulders jumped. “I--” she squeaked, then lowered her voice as some other apprentices shushed her. “I mean---I mean if you are okay with that, I just wanted some time to go over my notes--we have that test tomorrow, and I wanted to go over my notes with someone smart and who definitely knows the answers and--and-- oh gosh, I need to shut up.”

Veira shook her head. “There is no need. I was studying for it too.” She gestured at the end of the desk. “Please, go ahead.”

Alea hesitated, blushing head to toe and possibly wondering if she was being pranked. But she did find the courage to sit and organize her notes--making sure they did not get in the way of Veira’s. She smiled again, waiting for Alea to ask her questions.

They sat in silence for an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually, Veira broke it. “You...wanted to go over some questions with me?”

Again Alea’s face went bright red. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t want to disturb your studies, so I was waiting until you were...uh...done.”

“It would be better if we studied together,” Veira laughed, “and I’m sure comparing notes will help us learn.”

“With her notes? Hardly.”

The new voice came from shadow. Leena Amell--a rather brash apprentice that excelled in all subjects, whether it was the most obscure history to the most difficult spell. Veira felt a little hesitation. Leena was often antagonistic for some reason--usually against her. She hardly thought she had done something to warrant the aggression...they barely talked. She masked her hesitance with a calm sigh. “Hello, Leena.”

Alea

Oh gods, why was she here?

Alea felt like she had done so well. She managed to ask for Veira’s help without having a panic attack. Surely, that was a win. She had lots of little wins--like one time Alea found the hairpin Veira had misplaced in a classroom and gave it back. She liked to help out--especially with apprentices like Veira. Elven, kind, and really pretty to boot. It was no secret that Alea admired her greatly. If they were friends--well that would be incredible. Somehow this tower filled with other people just like her got really lonely. She felt less lonely around her.

But then there was Leena. She had no idea what her problem was. She was incredibly talented and beautiful--super successful and well on her way to becoming top tier in the Circle. She literally had no reason to hate Veira like she did. Well, she hated every other apprentice here. But most days Veira got the brunt of it.

Leena sneered at them. “You are in my spot.”

Alea and Veira exchanged a glance. Dread filled Alea as she felt her throat close up. Darn it, not again! Someone had to stand up to her for once.

“I do not think this area is strictly for you,” Veira said calmly, no trace of anger or not even irritation. Alea had no idea how she kept a cool head when she was being bullied all the time.

Leena’s sneer turned into a scary smile, slamming her hand onto the desk hard enough to make Alea jump, but quiet enough not to stir the templar’s in the study. “I do not think” Leena said through her teeth, mocking the way that Veira talked, “you have the qualifications to monopolize this desk for so long, Surana. Especially if all you are going to do is socialize.”

Alea leaned back from the look in her eyes. Leena had a talent to make herself look absolutely terrifying.

But what Alea couldn’t stand was the allegation that Veira was lesser--and she supposed by that she herself was much lesser than both of them. It wasn’t fair...Leena wasn’t better just because she did so well at everything. She didn’t have to be a bully.

“Not socializing.”

It was out before Alea could even process it. This was the first time Alea had talked back to Leena.

Oh, gods.

Leena glared daggers at her. “What did you say?”

Reading the room, Veira stood from her seat. “It’s fine,” she said calmly. “We were going over our notes--or at least we were about to. But, I am certain we can do that elsewhere. Why don’t we study in my room, Alea? I think my bunk can fit us both.”

Alea’s mouth went dry. “Y-your bed?” Her brain felt like it exploded with lava. “I-I-I- oka...y.”

Veira gathered up her notes while Alea nearly had a heart attack.

Leena

Her head ached. It was too loud here.

Maker, but they were all so stupid. Cared about stupid things, talked about stupid things. It made her head throb, the stupidity of it all. She needed quiet to focus. Not that she was worried about the exam tomorrow--she was going to ace it like all the rest. But she deserved some damn peace from all of these idiots.

Ah, that desk. That was the place to go. The one place that was far enough away from everyone else. She stormed through the tower, and everyone made room for her. As it should be. No one else worked as hard as she did.

She almost felt relief knowing that she would spend the afternoon in solitude, only with her books. But then. Then it had to be her.

Surana. Her hand balled into a tight fist.

Out of all the apprentices in this place, it was her that threatened her position the most. She was smart--too damn smart. She kept up with her own grades, was apt in most study in magic, and while there were certainly others just like that too, but Surana. The problem with her was that she was so damn likeable.

It had to be a trick. Surana only acted the way she did to get further up. It took so much effort for herself to be just nice enough to the enchanters to get them on her side, get her to higher places after apprenticeship. She was not ever, under no circumstance, going to stay in the lower parts of the tower forever. But Surana...she was liked by all the enchanters. All of them. Except for the ones that were openly racist.

She couldn’t let that stand. They were all her enemies and Leena would win. But Surana was her true rival. The one she had to beat no matter what. If she couldn’t, she’d be a fucking medium bar enchanter for the rest of her life. When it was the top...the First Enchanter...that was what she deserved to be. It was hers.

Irving already loved Surana too much. She had to work three times as hard to get his attention thanks to her.

It was intolerable.

And there she was, with her stupid calm smile and charm to an apprentice she didn’t even give two shits about, but she was the all-mightly Surana and sunshine came out of her asshole like the perfect angel that she was. Leena’s blood boiled.

She couldn’t take that desk from her. Not today.

But...even as she won, and Surana packed her things and went back to her quarters with the love-sick apprentice at her heels, Leena felt so damned empty.

She stood there in silence---finally, silence--but she couldn’t feel like she had won this battle, no matter how much she wanted to. She swallowed the scream in her throat. Eventually she sat in her rightful seat, opening her books. She could at least still win the exam tomorrow.

That was all she had.

#veira surana #leena surana #alea surana

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october-rosehip · 5 years

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30 Day OC Challenge: Day One; First Impressions

Zevran awoke in darkness.

No surprise, that. The dead were said to dwell in the Maker's sight. The Maker didn't want him, surely. He reached out to touch anything, and could not move. Something moved, however. His surroundings swayed and lurched. Did he drift in the void?

“Blast it all,” someone said in Fereldan. “My boot's coming unstitched.” Someone else sang softly in Orlesian. A third voice offered to fix the offending boot.

Probably not the void, then.

Fuck.

Zevran tried to move, again. His hands behind him and his feet together, refused. Ah. Wood under his body, a splinter stabbed his exposed thigh. Only after he noticed that, did he notice the pounding in his skull and an impending sense of nature's call. He gave a wry frown, feeling rough fabric across his cheeks. It had to be a blindfold. The last of his disorientation faded. He had failed to die.

He searched for his last memory. It was of a blank shield crashing down upon him as a distant voice yelled “Don't kill him!”

Fuck, again.

The world lurched, something creaked. Someone yelled “Whoa, Blackie!” and a mountain of weight crashed down upon him, burying, smothering- just as his stomach rebelled. He retched, but something covered his face. Bile filled his nose, burning. He kicked out- forget subtlety. His legs crashed into the wooden sides of the... cart? Carriage?

“Settle down!” yelled the man with the poorly kept boot. “It's just a spooked pony...”

Other voices clamored in the background but Zevran spared them no attention. He kicked again, hoping to spring the hatch he prayed existed. He couldn't breathe. Something cracked, thank Andraste. He choked on a cough and kicked one more time. The thing he connected with gave, and some of the weight fell off of him.

“Stop the cart NOW, Bodahn!” another voice yelled.

Before it could possibly have, the wood under Zevran shifted with more weight, some of the heavy corners pushing into him fell away, and arms wrapped around him. The world spun again, and both Zevran and whoever it was landed hard into damp earth.

Zevran wheezed and vomited out the last of his stomach's contents as slender hands held him up against a person’s chest chest and a voice whispered “I'm so sorry.” Louder, the man's voice shouted “Somebody bring me some water!”

Zevran coughed a few more times and took a deep, aching breath as soon as he could. The man holding him shifted as footsteps approached. A cool wet cloth wiped over Zevran's face. Magic washed over him in ripples. He shivered, but it felt very unlike the magic the Crow mages performed- less a cruel, purifying burn and more like drifting in a murky, green pool.

“I'm not a great healer,” the Warden murmured. For it had to be he, one of Zevran's own targets, who had saved him from dying a most undignified death. “But I hope it helped anyway. Water?”

Zevran nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. A waterskin pressed against his lips. He rinsed his mouth, spat, and drank just enough from it to clear his throat. He had no way of knowing how long he’d remain bound.

“I'm going to move you over a little and set you down, all right?”

What was with this man? What could Zevran do about it if it wasn't all right? Why did he keep apologizing? In battle, the mage had been... horrifying. His pale eyes held no life in them as he drained the essence from Zevran's hirelings. Ghosts danced around his ankles. Lightning flew from his hands and arced across a row of archers. Zevran nodded his assent to being moved, of course.

Despite being a mage, and no larger than Zevran himself, the man... Surana, that was it, easily shifted him over several feet. Strange. What kind of mage lifted more than a stack of books? The man set him gently down on the ground.

Another wave of magic buzzed from nearby. It felt almost furry. Alive.

“Morrigan?” Surana asked.

“We were unfollowed, Warden. I am certain.”

“All right, thank you.” And a hand snatched the cloth off Zevran's eyes.

He blinked in the light several times. His vision cleared and he found himself looking into the face of the Warden Surana, as he'd thought. Up close he looked so very young. Still eerie. Still with those cold, pale, eyes. Still dressed like a barbarian from the swamps, and several angry wounds showed wherever the hide, fur, and teeth left his skin bare. Nevertheless, a hint of worry showed in the man's features.

Old habits died hard. Zevran found him beautiful, with his full lips, glossy brown hair, and clear skin.

Zevran looked around at the others surrounding them. Curiosity lived in the young redheaded archer and the two dwarf non-combatants. Also on the dog, come to think of it. This was Ferelden, after all. He should think of the dog as a person. Everyone else- the older mage, the beautiful dark haired mage, the qunari, the larger Warden who had smashed him in the head- they all regarded him with increasing levels of hostility.

Somehow, somehow, Zevran had woken up in the same world he'd nearly left. He felt... grateful?! Relieved? Weak. You are weak, Zevran. You have no resolve. So be it. He found himself grabbing life with both hands. If he would survive this, his hope lay, strangely enough, with the elven mage.

Who issued a flurry of instructions related to setting up camp for the evening, as soon as they were done, here. The elven mage led this odd crew? Interesting, and lucky.

Zevran sighed. They may as well begin. “I expected to wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But, I see you haven't killed me, yet.”

The archer spoke with an Orlesian accent. “Macsen, may I have a quiet word with you?”

“A quick one.” He gripped his staff and followed her a bit down the road, within clear view of Zevran. He stopped when she did.

She whispered. “This man is a professional. I think you need to take care when questioning him.”

Surana spoke in a normal voice. “First off, he can hear you.” just as Zevran chimed in with “The pointy tips are not decorative, human.”

Calculated, on Zevran's part. It paid off. Surana laughed. “Yeah, she and I have talked about that.”

She literally, actually stamped her foot. “You are never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Probably not.” Surana wandered back in Zevran's direction. “If that was it, then let's get back to this really awkward conversation.” He sighed and gave a wry grimace. He faced Zevran. “Cards on the table, then. I figured you were hired to kill us. That was too much trouble to go to for a random robbery, and you knew who we were. I have questions.”

“So I am to be interrogated, then? Let me save you some time, and get right to the point.” And myself the trouble of being pried open by a hexer. “My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, and I have sworn silence to no one. If I may ask, however, why did you bring me along? Have we traveled far?”

“Cart pace since midmorning,” Surana replied.

Zevran's blood ran cold. The sun speared late afternoon rays through the trees. Waking up so far from where one fell unconscious, so much later, was never a good thing. He had been intentionally separated from any potential allies, (which he did not have anyway but these people did not know that) but also... “A head trauma kept me under for so long, Warden?”

“No. We healed that as much as we could and gave you something for sleep. I'm not surprised you don't remember it. I-” The large, human Warden wandered over and placed a hand on his shoulder. Surana bit his lips together, face hardening before continuing. “The paranoia was mine. Several of your people ran off and I didn't want them interrupting us.”

“They would not have,” Zevran said.

“Local hirelings, then,” said the archer.

She was Orlesian, a musician who had disabled his traps and proved deadly in combat at once; she knew things like that, she ran in this company... bard. She had very possibly meant Zevran to hear her accusation but did not count on Surana being the man he was. Interesting.

Surana knelt before him where Zevran lay on the ground. “So, you're not denying being a professional. Who did you work for?”

Past tense. With a jolt, Zevran realized it was true. No matter what happened now, he was never going back. If they killed him, that would be that. If they didn't, he would just have to run as fast and far as he could. He could make his capture look like part of a longer game. But why do that, really, so they could just throw him away the next time it was politically expedient? “I was sent by the Antivan Crows,” Zevran replied.

“The elf is a crow? That makes sense.” The white haired, matronly mage strode into Zevran's view.

“I thought as much when I heard his accent,” said the obvious bard. “They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. They are renowned for always getting the job done, so to speak. Someone went to great expense to hire this man.”

“Loghain, right?” asked the Warden.

“Yes, that was it,” Zevran replied. “Though it was his lackey's idea.”

The warden stared hard at him before asking his next question. “How did you track us down?”

Zevran had been intimidated in the past by people who made a living of it, so he easily maintained eye contact. Still, an intensity emanated from the Warden as he asked that question. Somehow, this was a more important bit of information than the last, and the man expected bad news. Zevran had some bad news to deliver, but certainly the Warden expected to hear something specific.

“Warden, I do not know what you expect, but you and your companions stand out the tiniest bit. Travelers need money and shelter, no? Everyone from whom you have rented a room or for whom you have weeded a garden remembered you.”

“How did you... get them to tell you?” The already fair skinned man paled further.

Zevran suppressed a pang of insult. Why the void should he care what these people thought of him? “There is more to assassination than mere violence. I shared a drink and the latest news with everyone willing to do so with an elf.”

The Warden let out a relieved exhale. “I'm sorry. Of course. That's obvious now that you say it, but in my admittedly limited experience, people are willing to resort to harm for much less. Loghain, for instance. When were you to see him next?”

“I wasn't. If I had succeeded, I would move onto the next job and the Crows would inform your Loghain of the results, if he didn't already know. If I had failed, I should be dead. No need to see Loghain, then.”

“If you had failed?”

Damn this perceptive Warden. As far as Zevran was concerned, the only thing he'd failed to do today was die. Forget admitting that. “Hope springs eternal, eh? I am an optimist.” Fool. Are you trying to succeed, now?

But the Warden stifled another chuckle. “That's too bad. I was hoping you might be willing to trade your life for returning fire. It would solve a lot of this country's problems.”

“I cannot do that, Warden. It would not be right. I appreciate the offer, however.”

“Wouldn't be right? You're an assassin.” The large human man with the shield scowled down at him.

“Be that as it may,” replied Zevran, there are ethical boundaries I will not cross. We all have to draw the line somewhere, no?”

“I hear that,” sighed the elf Warden. “Are any more of you coming?”

“No. Only I had signed up for this, the last I knew.”

“So, what now, then? What happens now that you've failed?”

“If you choose not to kill me, the Crows will. Failure is not tolerated, you see.” Not that Zevran planned any such thing. The conversation had persisted this long. Hope, such an unfamiliar thing of late, glowed within him. A plan solidified.

“Eugh. I don't suppose it matters, but I'm curious all the same. How much did they pay you to take that kind of risk?”

“I was not paid anything, Warden. They bought me on the slave market when I was seven. The only choice I have had in the matter was which jobs I cared to take.”

The warden looked stricken. His gloved hands clenched.

Zevran had aimed for the man's empathy, not his pity. “But it is not so bad. There are certainly rewards for being a Crow. The retirement plan, however, is complete garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it.”

“I'll take that under advisement.”

“You seem like a bright lad, I'm sure you've other options.”

“Fewer than you'd think.” The Warden sighed and laid his staff across his knees. “But we still haven't sorted out the whole 'what now' issue. If I were to let you go, could I expect you to try again?”

“If you were to let me go I would not last a week. And no, you could not. There would be no point. The Crows will still kill me for failing the first time, and if you were to spare me, I could hardly repay you that way.”

“That is a lot to accept,” noted the man from earlier. “Do you believe him, Macsen?”

“Yes, I think so. But if you were to ask the First Enchanter, I have a problem with that kind of thing.”

“Warden, I do think I have a counter offer for you, if you are of a mind.” interrupted Zevran.

“Why not?” replied the elf... Macsen.

“My career as a Crow is clearly at an end, so why not let me serve you, instead? The only way to leave them would be to sign on with someone they cannot touch, and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause.” You gave me pause, as well.

“So, you get safety in numbers and I get... what exactly?”

“I am familiar with the ways of the Crows, of course, and I can spot future attempts, should there be any. I am also skilled in many things. I am willing to fight alongside you. I am well versed in the use of poisons, if that is useful to you. I am stealthy, and can pick locks. I am willing to perform more menial tasks, or stand around and look pretty, if you prefer.” He paused for emphasis. Something of a gamble, this. “Warm your bed, perhaps?”

“You're blushing, dear,” said the older lady.

He was, indeed. His cheeks bloomed rosy in seconds. “Darn it, Wynne, I noticed. And now I'm sure everyone else has, too.” The Warden buried his face in his hands.

This is the strangest mage I have ever met.

“You must think he's utterly stupid,” interjected the dark haired, younger mage woman. Her haughty voice revealed her as the one who had searched for tails, earlier.

“I think he is utterly gorgeous,” said Zevran. “I'm only hoping he's utterly stupid. Oh, wait, bad joke! I am sorry! Let me explain. It seems like a foolish thing to want to do, I know, but I am hoping he is the sort to take a chance now and then.”

“She's got a point, though,” added the Warden, somewhat more composed. “What kind of loyalty could I expect from you?”

Zevran probably shouldn't feel as affronted as he did. “I happen to be a very loyal person! Right up until I am expected to die for failing. If you are the sort who would ask the same thing, then I don't come very well recommended, I suppose.”

“I wouldn't, but in our current direction, death would be something of a natural consequence of failure.”

“I can accept this.”

“I bet. I'm inclined to take your offer. We need all the help we can get, to be honest.”

“Are you serious?” asked the human man, shocked. “We're taking the assassin with us, now?”

The qunari, standing of to the side, spoke in a mellow voice still dripping with derision. “At last we see the famed tactical genius of the Grey Wardens.”

“Thank you, Sten.” replied the Warden, with an eyeroll. “Fine, then. Let's go discuss this, over that way a bit. Will someone stay here to keep an eye on our guest?”

The young witch spoke up. “I have nothing to add to this discussion. If the rest of you are frightened of the big, bad elf, then I shall protect you all, hm?”

Boots crunched in the dirt and voices diminished behind him. The Warden led them far enough, this time, that Zevran didn't have much hope of overhearing the round table discussion concerning his fate. He had thought falling in combat would be so simple. He would die, the Crows would lose him without suspecting how badly they'd wounded him, and Rinna's betrayal would be repaid. Grey Wardens were not known for asking questions, but he had to go and find the only even-tempered Wardens on the planet. He had no idea what to expect from this bizarre group.

He hoped they’d sort things out soon. The chill of the ground seeped through his leathers, his arms hurt, he still felt thirsty, and nature was calling even louder. The sooner he either lay dead or had access to his hands, the better.

I suppose,” chimed the human witch, moving directly in front of him, “that this is some ruse to get us to let down our guard so you can poison us in the night?”

“If you believe that, why do you choose to remain here rather than argue that point with the others?”

“It will not matter. Concessions will be made. Macsen will try to ease everyone's mind, but in the end, his wishes will triumph. But tell me, elf; do you truly intend to change sides as quickly as that?”

“I do. I have few enough options at present, no?”

“Hmph. And yet you claim to be loyal. If you are, then this is all no doubt part of your plan. If you are not, then we still err if we keep you; which we will. Just watch.”

“Woman, what do you wish me to say? Do you simply wish to torment me? I can think of more pleasurable ways to do so.”

“Do not be vulgar as well as deceptive, elf.” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned down at him.

“Why ever not? I am, after all, bound and bloody at the feet of a beautiful woman. It seems the place for vulgarity.”

“Keep your meaningless flirtation away from me. I am not so vulnerable as some easy targets.”

Zevran fell silent. As luck had it, the other group had allowed their voices to raise during the witch's conversation.

“That seems um, uncomfortable and awkward, but if it'll keep the peace, all right,” said Surana. “For now, anyway. We'll revisit later.”

Hmmm. I gather that this means I have a “later” to contemplate, mused Zevran. I suppose I should be glad. He did not know how to feel about any of it, in truth. He had meant to die. Rinna deserved her vengeance, and he could no longer tolerate the direction of his life. And yet, now that it seemed he would not fall this day, the hope he felt earlier grew brighter. Still, if he was about to become the servant of a Grey Warden during a blight... I'm sorry, my love; I will likely join you soon enough.

The others headed back over.

Surana carefully untied Zevran's knots. “Welcome to your new career in woodland survival and saving the world.” He offered his hand.

Zevran took it.

#Dragon Age #30 day OC challenge #Macsen Surana #Zevran Arainai #Rosehiporiginal #It'll be easy #I said #drabbles at best I said #Then this monster emerged #I still wrote it too fast #forgive me if the editing is wonky

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degenerate-perturbation · 4 years

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Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe Additional Tags: Established Relationship Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one who was shackled next to you? What do you have in common, save for the chains that bound you both?

“Things sure have changed.”

At first Yvanne wasn’t even sure if Anders had meant that comment for her or for the birds. They’d been standing on the same parapet, not talking to each other, for an uncomfortably long time.

There were rather a lot of things she wanted to say to him. “Yeah,” she said instead.

By now the Keep was well on its way to being rebuilt, although there would be months to go before it was anything like its former glory. Still, it felt bigger now than before. The new recruits had swelled the Order’s ranks, and while before Yvanne had known everyone’s name and where they’d come from, these days she could barely keep track of who was who.

Anders was staring off into the cold afternoon sky. He looked wistful, with the faintest hints of fury buried deep beneath. Mostly he looked a bit tired.

She made an attempt: “Bit of a far toss from back when it was just a couple of childhood friends charging around the countryside, fresh out of the Tower."

He acquired a ghost of smile. “And Oghren.”

She snorted. “Yeah. And Oghren.”

“And the Seneschal.”

Unbidden tears came to her eyes. She hadn’t expected to miss the old man this much. “And the Seneschal,” she agreed, throat tight..

He nudged her. “Getting sentimental on me, are you?”

Startled out of her rising grief, she laughed. “Oh, shut up.” She shoved him on the upper arm, and he made a big show of pretending to almost fall off the parapet, pinwheeling his arms.

Suddenly the tension between them that had persisted in the past weeks evaporated, and it was almost like old times. They reminisced, joking and trading barbs. For a blessed portion of an hour, the fact that things were different now didn’t seem so tragic.

But all things ended.

He chuckled. “I remember when there were so few of us we had to do everything ourselves.”

Yvanne smiled, watery. “And having Nate join up was this big thing, let alone Sigrun and Velanna. Maker, it felt like such a risk. I mean, what if we didn’t get along?”

They both laughed, but not very hard this time, and not for long.

“Do you even know all the recruits names anymore?” he said.

“I used to,” she said wistfully. After the incident with Rolan, she had removed herself as head of recruitment. She didn’t trust herself with that job anymore. “I still know most of them, I think.”

He paused, then, “Do you know those three fellows who have been hanging around Rolan lately?”

“Oh, hm.” She stiffened a bit. Rolan had kept his distance from her and she had been too ashamed of herself to mind what he did. But it was still her job to know. “One of them’s named Conner, I think. He’s local. Used to be a farrier. The ginger’s an ex-mercenary from Starkhaven, William or something like that.”

“The big guy. Yeah. And the wiry fellow with the accent?”

“I think he’s originally from Nevarra. I can’t remember his name. Starts with an A.”

“You don’t think there’s anything funny about them?”

“No. Why would I?”

He paused. “They’ve been talking a lot, the four of them.”

“So they’re friends. Good for them,” she said, annoyed. “So what?”

“They’ve been talking privately.”

“If they’ve been talking privately, how would you know about it?”

“Never mind,” he muttered. “I’m just saying it’s suspicious, is all.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “It’s suspicious that four men are friends?”

“It’s not just that they’re friends, alright?” he snapped. “I think they’ve been keeping an eye on me. Lately no matter where I go, it seems like one of them’s there, too.”

“So you think they’re what, spying on you?”

“Not just me!” He leaned in closer, looking around as though someone might be listening in. “I think they know about Justice. I heard them talking once, and ever since then they’ve been more careful.”

“That’s troubling,” Yvanne agreed. “If true. But we’re working on it."

"Working on it? They're still here, though."

"What am I supposed to do? Throw them out of the Wardens on the vague suspicion that they might know about the possessed corpse we keep on staff?” Even if she’d wanted to, and a large part of her did, Loriel wouldn’t have agreed.

“Look, can you at least rotate me off patrol with those guys? I don’t know who Rolan’s bribing to keep getting assigned to my squads, but I’m sick of it.”

She shrugged. “Sure, fine. If it’ll make you feel better, I guess.”

“Thanks.” There was an awkward silence. “But you don’t believe me.”

The tension was back in full force.

“I don’t know,” she said eventually.

“I knew it. You think I’m crazy.”

“I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it."

She threw her hands up. “Look, I’m sick of being paranoid. I’m tired of it, alright, Anders? I’m tired! I don’t want to be watching my back all the time, afraid that someone is finally going to get me if I let my hackles down for even a second. I mean—Andraste, we’re not Circle mages anymore, we’re Wardens! Shouldn’t we act like it? Shouldn’t we stop being afraid?

“Sounds peachy,” he said acidly. “I’ll just get right on that, shall I?”

She set her jaw and looked away.

“Can't you talk to Loriel about this?”

“Talk to her yourself," Yvanne said stiffly. "You know where her office is.”

“She’s hardly ever in there anymore," Anders protested. "You don’t get it. She doesn’t listen to us. It’s like talking to an extremely polite brick wall. She smiles and agrees to everything and then it’s like she doesn’t even remember the conversation.”

“She’s got a lot on her mind."

“Yeah, well, we all have a lot on our minds. But she listens to you.”

“What exactly do you want me to tell her? That four men are friends? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You know that’s not what—”

“No,” she said, turning around. “I’m done talking about this. I don’t always understand Loriel’s decisions, but I support her, always and completely. So you can go ahead and quit using me to try and get to her. Talk to her yourself. Or don’t. But leave me out of it.”

“Fine,” Anders said. He could have frozen Kinloch Lake with the ice in that fine. “Things really have changed, huh? I remember when you gave a damn about something besides yourself and your own comfort.”

Yvanne snorted. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I remember when you actually bothered to stick your neck out for other people," he went on, yanking her by the shoulder so that she was obliged to face him. The damn beanpole had several inches on her. They glared at each other.

"The Yvanne I used to know would never have put up with this. She would have shouted. She would have been swinging. She would have made damn sure that the whole world knew that she wasn’t content."

“Yeah, well,” she said, drawing in on herself. “The Yvanne you used to know got the shit beaten out of her every other week. And what did she ever accomplish?”

“Fine, whatever." He gave a bitter snort, crossed his arms and went back to staring out at the grey landscape. “Didn’t realize you were giving up on all your principles.”

“Principles!” she said, scornful. “Principles! Since when have I ever claimed to have principles? I used to be an angry, miserable, vicious child, and now that I’m not that child anymore, you want to get mad at me? Real fine of you to get on your high horse about principles at me when you’ve spent your whole life being the exact same selfish, careless asshole that I used to be.”

“Maybe I’ve also changed. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he said. “I wonder what Justice would think about that. You remember Justice? Our good friend, the literal embodiment of justice, who you seem perfectly willing to throw under the wagon?”

“Is that what this is about?” A new flare of anger rose up in the pit of her gut. She cared about the spirit. “I've been meaning to talk to you about him. You really need to stop feeding his... complex. He’s not an embodiment of justice, he’s a person. A person uniquely bad at existing in this world, and you’re not making it any easier for him. Neither of you are good for each other.”

He gave her a brief, close-lipped smile. “You know, given the company you chose to keep, I would think that you would be the last person to lecture anybody about who’s good for who.”

It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about. And suddenly her hot, unhappy anger purified and crystallized into a clear, cold, unbothered pit of pure ice.

“You don’t know a fucking thing you’re talking about,” she said smoothly. “And if you’re going to say things like that, you may as well not speak to me at all."

As she stalked away, she regretted it, a little. Anders was an old friend, and you couldn’t exactly replace those, even if he did say phenomenally stupid, ignorant, wrong things some times.

But their friendship had weathered worse. It would probably weather this.

—

The door to the Commander’s office slammed open.

“I have some concerns.”

Loriel slowly closed her book with a sigh. She was getting rather tired of having her office barged into. Maybe she ought to spend more time in her lab, which nobody knew about except Yvanne. “Hello, Anders.”

“Don’t you ‘Hello, Anders’ me, this is serious!”

“Yes, I can see that,” she said.

“I don’t know,” he said acidly. “ Can you?”

“I’m listening very carefully to you, Anders.” She folded her hands on the desk. “What’s this about?”

“I’m talking about how this Keep is clearly infested with Chantry spies and you’re not doing a damn thing about it.”

“Ah. You’re referring to Rolan.”

He huffed. “ Yes, I’m referring to Rolan. I swear he’s been watching me, him and his little gang.”

“I see." She nodded. "While I can’t prevent him from doing what he wishes during his off-duty hours, I can ensure that you are not placed on concurrent duty.”

“But it’s not just me!” he said. “They’re trying to get at Justice, too, and probably Velanna. They were sent here to watch us, because we’re free mages!”

Loriel pursed her lips. “Do you have any evidence of that?”

“Evidence?! What evidence could you possibly need? Use your eyes! I mean, Andraste’s knickerweasels, it’s hardly a bold leap of conjecture, is it?”

She took and released a steady breath. “While I am happy to take steps to ensure you are not forced to work together if you are uncomfortable with his presence, I hardly see how this is evidence that the Keep is ‘infested’ with Chantry spies.”

His jaw dropped. “You can’t possibly be skeptical of conspiracies after the last one! You’d have to be out of your damn mind to deny you have enemies!”

“I am fully in possession of my faculties, thank you,” Loriel said in a clipped tone. “I’ll note that I’m not the one shouting my head off in my immediate superior’s office.”

“Forget it,” he said bitterly. “I can see it’s just going to be a waste of time with you.”

That stung, unexpectedly. She’d known she’d lost Anders’ good opinion even before she decided to spare the Architect, but they’d still been friendly. Maybe even friends, for a bit. She remembered the surprise wedding reception, how she’d danced. He hadn’t done it for her, but...

She let some of the hurt show on her face. Just enough to maybe make him regret saying it. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He huffed and looked away. “And what about Justice?” he said instead of apologizing. “They’re after him, too, you know! You said you were going to do something about him, and he’s getting corpesier by the day.”

“Yes, I’ve spoken with him,” she said, although she barely had. She’d been keeping the spirit at arm’s length ever since Drake’s Fall, but then, she’d been keeping everyone at arm’s length for the past couple months, besides Yvanne.

It wasn’t that the spirit had been noticeably any colder to her since Drake’s Fall, the way Sigrun had. But she hadn’t been able to forget how close it had come to violence between them. She simply couldn’t trust him anymore. There were times when Loriel thought that she understood Justice better than she understood any mortal. He had a duty as innate to him as breathing—not that he breathed. It wasn’t that Justice wanted to bring justice. It was simply what he was. Nobody else in the Wardens understood that the way Loriel did.

“And?”

She cleared her throat. “We agreed that it would be prudent that he take more assignments away from the Keep for now.”

“That’s it? That’s your solution?”

“It’s the best I can do in the current circumstances. So for now, yes.”

“And for later? When Kristoff’s body really starts falling apart?”

“We discussed other possibilities." She sighed. "Justice does not wish to go back to the Fade. I hope to respect this choice.”

“What do you mean, hope?” Anders sounded on the edge of panic.

“I mean, finding an alternate host may prove problematic,” Loriel said. “Justice is, well... just. After his experiences with Aura, he doesn’t want to possess another corpse. And even if he did, that would simply be delaying the problem.”

“So he needs a willing host.”

She shook her head. “Even with a willing host, possessions are always unpredictable. I’ve known possessed mages who apparently experienced no adverse effects, but most possessed people are—” she considered, “—unstable, at best.”

“Because they’re possessed by demons,” Anders protested. “Justice is a spirit!”

“Yvanne seems to think that difference is not as important as commonly assumed. It isn’t clear to us yet what exactly makes for a successful possession. It would be irresponsible to ask anyone, even a willing host, to take such a risk when we know so little about the consequences. Returning to the Fade may be his best option. Yvanne has been looking into ways to banish him safely.”

“How can you say that?” Anders burst out. “Justice is our friend, and you’re going to banish him?”

She gave him a piercing look. “Hm. You are good friends,” she noted.

“Yeah, we’ve been talking, so what?” he muttered. “Don’t change the subject. You know Justice doesn’t belong in the Fade anymore. He’s changed.”

Maybe nobody belongs anywhere, Loriel thought absently. “We all change. It’s for the best.”

“Oh, the best,” he said scornfully, a cruel curl to his lip that she had seen before, on a few select occasions. She’d never thought to be on the receiving end of it. “Is that what you think you’re doing? Watching out for everyone’s best interests?”

She stared back, unfazed. “Yes, Anders. That is what I think I’m doing.”

“Well, you have a unique way of going about it, I’ll say.”

“And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean you’re bloody scary!” he snapped. “Do you even realize, how scary you are? I get that you don’t listen to anyone anymore, not even your own damn wife, but really, do you have any idea? Draining the life out of people, paralyzing their lungs, and then inviting a bunch of Templars for high tea, as though they aren’t going to notice that?”

“Contrary to your apparent belief, Anders, I actually am aware that magic tends to be viewed with fear and suspicion, yes. Or do you forget that we were imprisoned in the same tower?” She fought the urge to stand up, assert her powers, escalate the conflict. It wouldn’t have helped. He was a solid foot taller than her.

No, better to stay seated, in control. Let him get emotional. “But I don’t suffer from the illusion that some types of magic are somehow subject to a lesser degree of bigotry.”

“So you really don’t see any difference between healing the sick and stopping the hearts of a dozen people at once?” he said sardonically.

“Oh, please,” she said, irritated despite herself. “That’s what you’re going to fling at me? Those people had every intention of killing me. My men were going to try their best to kill them no matter what happened. I simply expedited the conflict, to spare my men pain and injury and possibly even death, because what is the point of magic if you cannot use it to help people? Just because it didn’t feel very fair doesn’t mean it was wrong.”

“That isn’t the—”

“I am simply finished being ashamed of myself,” she said primly. Then, the finishing blow: “I would have thought a fellow mage would understand as much.”

That shut him up. He glared down at the rug. Suddenly a memory struck her—the three of them in this very room, huddled on the floor, a mahogany box between them containing their phylacteries. How they’d all held hands and smashed them together, Kinloch alumni turned Wardens freeing themselves together. Yvanne had brought in the rug to cover the stain that was probably still there. Anders had loudly said it was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen, and Yvanne had punched him on the arm.

She sighed. “Anders, wait. I’m—”

“Save it,” he bit out, turning on his heel. “I’ve heard enough.”

The door slammed. The vibrations from it nearly rattled the inkwell off Loriel’s desk. After that she tried to go back to her book, but it was no good concentrating up here. She would retire to her private laboratory space, she decided, and hang anybody else that wanted to talk to her til nightfall.

—

When she finally emerged she had gotten precious little done. Her mind still ran with echoes of what had been said in her office, unsettling her just enough to wreck her concentration. The longer she forced herself to try and focus, the worse it got, so after a time she was obliged to simply give up and go upstairs.

Yvanne sat cross-legged on the bed wearing a formless shift, a volume open on her lap. “Productive day?” she said.

“Approximately.” The shift, far too big for her, was slipping off her shoulder. Almost mindlessly, Loriel kissed the shoulder and pulled the shift up before shedding some outer layers herself. “Any luck with that spirit lore?”

“Some. The problem is that most of what I’ve got is Chantry sources.” Her nose wrinkled. “And it’s increasingly obvious that a lot is being left out. There’s all sorts of spirit traditions being talked around here. Avvar, Chasind, Rivaini...it’s hopeless figuring this stuff out without doing some legwork.”

“I’m sure you will, though,” Loriel said distractedly. “You’re very capable.”

Yvanne’s eyes flicked up to her. “I heard you had it out with Anders today.”

Loriel stiffened. “Oh, please, we did not have it out. He simply had some concerns, which I addressed.”

“Really. And here’s me remembering distinctly how a door slammed so hard this afternoon that the hinge was damaged and will need replacing.”

Loriel winced. “That bad, was it?”

Yvanne smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He’ll get over it soon enough, and things will go back to normal.”

“You really think so?” Loriel fiddled with a piece of her hair. It had grown long again of late. “I don’t know. I think he hasn’t seen me the same way since he first saw me use blood magic. He thinks I’m—”

“Well, he’s wrong, then, isn’t he? Oh, come here.” Yvanne tossed aside the Chantry-approved book of spirit lore and carded her fingers through Loriel’s hair, getting the tangles out. “You don’t really think he’s right about any of it, do you?”

“No. I think I’m doing the right thing.”

Yvanne put her hair into a loose braid, destined to come loose in the night. “Then trust in that. I do.”

“Thank you, Yvanne.”

“Wish you’d stop thanking me for stuff like this,” Yvanne sniffed. Dissatisfied with the braid she’d made, she undid it and started another, more complex one, fated to unravel even faster.

“I think I should go visit Avernus,” Loriel said, all in one breath. Then, before Yvanne could reply, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I have my reservations, but I don’t think the letters are doing it. There’s some elements to his research that I think I need to see in person if I want to make any progress on the calling within the decade.”

“Oh,” Yvanne said. “You’ve been exchanging letters with Avernus?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. I have.” Loriel blinked. “You didn’t know? It wasn’t a secret, I wasn’t hiding it, or anything.”

“No, I know you weren’t,” Yvanne said distractedly. “It must have just slipped one or both of our minds.”

“Right. So will you come with me? It isn’t far to Soldier’s Peak, we’d be back within a few days.”

“I don’t know,” she fretted. “The Keep is a little—socially fragile right now. Is it really wise for both of us to go?”

“Oh. Yes.” Loriel glanced down. “No, you’re right, of course. You mind the Keep, I’ll go alone.”

Yvanne’s fingers tightened in Loriel’s hair. “Alone?” Loriel could tell they were thinking of the same thing. The assault on Amaranthine. The siege of Vigil’s Keep. Drake’s Fall. “No, no, no, that’s even less wise. Please... please don’t do that.”

“If you ask it of me,” Loriel said mildly. “But...it would really help the work along. And I’m sure you could find something in his collection on spirit lore, besides these useless Chantry-approved books. We could help Justice.”

Yvanne started another braid. This one, sloppier. “I suppose you’re right,” she said eventually. “Yes, alright, I’ll come with you. I’m sure Garahel can keep things running for a few days without the Vigil burning down.”

—

Yvanne and Anders still weren’t on speaking terms when she left with Loriel for Soldier’s Peak. It made her a bit sad—she was already regretting being so harsh, but remained too proud to apologize—but she doubted it would last forever. Give it a few weeks, she figured.

Besides, a little trip could be like a vacation. Even if it was to visit the mountainous frozen wasteland of a demented old blood mage with only the loosest understanding of regular human morals.

She quipped as much to Loriel, who gave her a reproachful look. “He’s not demented. He’s doing really very remarkable things.”

“You going to start sacrificing the least capable recruits to your dreadful experiments, too?” Yvanne joked.

Loriel didn’t find it particularly funny. “He doesn’t do that anymore,” she said. “He keeps complaining in his letters about how slowly everything’s going without human subjects.”

“Yes, well, I suppose we’ll find out if he’s telling the truth about that.”

“That’s the other reason I wanted to visit,” Loriel said darkly.

They took a coach, because the roads were peaceful and well-maintained these days, and why not go in some degree of comfort? Maker knew that they’d had enough walking across the whole breadth of Ferelden.

When they arrived, two days unhurried travel later, Levi Dryden and his brother Mikhael had the run of the place. As far as either of them knew—or would admit, anyway—the mage Avernus, who had quarters in the upper levels of the castle, was a perfectly ordinary Warden mage, experimenting chiefly on himself with the approval of the Warden-Commander. Who was, essentially, the only authority that mattered.

That was Grey Wardens for you. Bloody secretive lot. Apt to keep a secret blood mage in a castle and not ask too many questions.

Loriel seemed to only vaguely remember who Levi was, let alone his brother, but that was why Yvanne habitually said the names of their contacts aloud when she greeted them. It was funny to remember, sometimes, back in the Tower when Loriel was the socially adept one between the two of them. Yvanne got the report of how Soldier’s Peak was coming along, how trade and lines of communications were running, whether there were any problems that needed seeing to by the Warden-Commander—or realistically, the Warden-Lieutenant. Yvanne was vaguely hoping that there would be, but for once everything was running smoothly, and there didn't seem to be anything for her to do.

The lower levels of the fortress were certainly looking better than the last time they were there, when it had been overrun with demons and walking corpses. People were living there now, not themselves Wardens but Warden-adjacent, curious to get a glance at the legendary Warden-Commander.

Avernus still lived where he’d lived for the past two hundred years, in his tower. If he was aware of the living fortress below him, he didn’t let on about it. Did he even need to eat, Yvanne wondered? Probably not. Probably just sustained his body with blood magic, somehow. She briefly imagined what that would be like, and shuddered.

“Hello, Avernus,” she said. “Good to see you’re still alive, or whatever passes for alive. Still being a creepy old blood mage, I see. Good for you. I trust you’re well? Sacrificed anybody recently?”

Loriel nudged her disapprovingly, but Avernus didn’t seem to have registered anything she’d said.

“About time you came to visit me, Commander,” he said instead. “I knew you would, sooner or later.”

As far as either of them could tell, the Warden mage had been telling the truth when he promised to keep his experiments 'ethical'. At least Levi hadn’t reported any mysterious disappearances or anything else particularly irregular, and Loriel had intentionally not announced her visit ahead of time, just in case. Everything seemed to be above board.

On the subject of being a creepy old blood mage shut up in a tower doing dreadful experiments that would make a Chantry Mother faint dead away, Yvanne was nominally ‘pro.’ There had been a time when all her dearest fantasies involved gleeful slaughter of Templars, apostasy, illegal magic—the whole bit. If she’d met Avernus as a seventeen-year-old, she probably would have thought he was a hero just for existing.

And technically, she still felt that way. Nothing wrong with a bit of bone-chilling illegal magic. Some light demon summoning, that was fine, too. Even Uldred’s rebellion and its consequences hadn’t changed her mind. Admitting that the Chantry was right about the danger magic could pose meant admitting it could be right about other things. About mages. About what was to be done to them. Yvanne would sooner set herself on fire than come within spitting distance of admitting that. She figured, in principle, if the Chantry proscribed it, it was somebody’s moral duty to do it as hard as possible.

But she was realizing that she didn’t particularly want that somebody to be Loriel.

So Anders was right about her. So she didn’t have any principles. So what? Was that so bad? Her principles had only ever made her miserable. Why was she obliged to hold on to something that only ever hurt?

Yvanne tried following Loriel and Avernus’s discussion about blight and blood and poisoned lyrium, but she quickly lost track of it. It had gotten highly technical very quickly, reaching into concepts that Yvanne was only vaguely aware existed. No wonder Avernus wasn’t interested in talking to her. She was completely out of her depth.

Instead she perused the extensive library, looking for anything on spirit lore. It was no easy task. Many of the books were so moldy that they were little more than damp bricks of wood pulp. Others were so badly charred that their titles couldn’t be made out. Some were mostly intact, but written in such old, obscure dialects that even Yvanne’s classical education in ancient languages couldn’t help her. Some were written in scripts that she couldn’t even recognize.

One tome was written in a mostly-understandable form of ancient Tevene, and seemed promising—but was nearly as high as a man, and bolted to the table besides. Yvanne sighed and went hunting for a dictionary to cross-reference it with and take some notes.

When she couldn’t stand to stare at the unnecessarily elaborate script anymore, she spent time amongst the lower levels of the fortress, making sure that there really wasn’t anything urgent or difficult that somebody needed done. Something. Anything.

So passed the days. Yvanne found out some interesting things about spirit lore. Two times a day she pried Loriel away for meals and sunlight, which usually succeeded on the second or third try. All the while a vague anxiety grew in her, like she had abandoned her Keep, and every hour that she remained away from it was dangerous.

It was frustrating. When had she become such a homebody? Didn’t she used to crave freedom, adventure, and the wonders of the whole world?

She started gently suggesting to Loriel that perhaps they ought to think about heading home. They nearly done, Loriel assured her. Tomorrow they’d go home. Or the day after, certainly.

And so a visit of a few days stretched out into nearly a fortnight.

On the thirteenth day since their departure, Yvanne climbed to the highest tower of Soldier’s Peak, determined to lay down the law--but needn’t have bothered. When she arrived Loriel was in the process of loading her collection of reagents back into her travel box.

“There you are,” Loriel said, brushing some greyish residue off the sleeves of her rope. “I think we’re about done.”

“Oh,” Yvanne said. “Well, good. Figured lots of things out, then?”

“Ah—yes,” Loriel said distractedly, peering at a label of an opaque bottle of brown glass. “Yes, I’ve a lot to test out, when we get home. Much to do.”

“Yes, yes, I look forward to hearing of your results,” the old blood mage said, scribbling something in the margins of a leather-bound tome.

“Great. Yeah,” said Yvanne, feeling her mood lift at once as Loriel snapped the locks shot on her trunk of vials. “Here, let me get that. You haven’t eaten yet today, have you? You probably should, I’ll get things ready for departure.”

Loriel smiled. “How foolish of me to even contemplate the notion that I could get by without you.”

“Too right,” Yvanne said. “Come on, then.”

The scratching of Avernus’s quill paused. “Ah—I nearly forgot. What did you end up using my little concoction for? I can tell that you didn’t bother to drink it.”

Yvanne stared in blank incomprehension. But understanding was dawning in Loriel’s eyes.

“Nothing in particular,” she answered.

“Threw it away, did you?” the old blood mage snorted. “Thought as much.”

“No...no, I still have it.”

“Hm,” sniffed the blood mage. “Perhaps not quite so foolish, then. I was quite proud of that recipe.”

Loriel blinked, sowly. “Oh...interesting. I’ll take a look, perhaps.”

“But we’d really better be going,” Yvanne said loudly, although she needn’t have bothered. Avernus was no longer paying attention to either of them.

It was too late to depart that day, so they instead left first thing in the morning. All that night and following morning, Loriel’s mind was somewhere else.

“Productive fortnight, then?” Yvanne said, breaking the growing silence.

Loriel started, lifting her cheek from her fist. “Hm? Oh. Yes. Yes, it was.” She sounded like she was about to elaborate, but trailed off. “I do wish I’d had the wherewithal to ask about what that concoction in the vial was actually supposed to do. It just caught me so off-guard, I’d completely forgotten about it. In a future letter, I suppose…”

Yvanne blanched. “You’re not actually thinking of drinking it, are you?”

Her eyes glinted with amusement. “As I recall, you were the one that dared me to drink it in the first place.”

“I was bloody well joking! Maker, Loriel—”

“Oh, calm down,” she laughed. “It isn’t that serious.”

“You’re cruel and wretched,” Yvanne complained. “I don’t know why I ever married you.”

The rest of the coach ride passed uneventfully. They were making better time on the way back, for which Yvanne was glad. A few hours in, she dozed off against Loriel’s shoulder, then in her lap, falling into a sticky state of half-dream and half-waking.

Only when the coach suddenly stopped did Yvanne realize that she’d fallen entirely asleep, and that it was hours later. “What’s going on?” she mumbled, drowsy.

“I don’t know,” said Loriel.

The coach door opened. It was Garahel, pale-faced. So they were back.

And something was wrong.

“Commander,” he said, bowing his head. “It’s good to see you back. We’ve been watching the roads for your arrival. We thought…something’s happened.”

“What’s going on, Garahel?” Yvanne demanded.

“You had better come see.”

—

In the growing dark, it was hard to see the blood. It appeared not red but black, though not all of it had dried yet; much of it had mixed with the mud and the dew. It was more readily smelled than seen, the distinct reek of iron tingeing the far stronger scents of human waste and rot. The bodies themselves were easier, though not a one of them remained in tact. A limb here, part of a torso there, something still recognizable as a head there.

They’d seen worse. The darkspawn did worse, in greater numbers. This was only four men, four Grey Wardens. They’d seen battlefields strewn with hundreds, witnessed horrors beyond mortal ken.

Nothing had ever sickened Yvanne so much in her life.

“Anders did this?” she said numbly.

“We believe so,” Garahel said. “He was on patrol with them.”

“I thought I ordered them not to be put on patrol together,” Loriel said sharply. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, Commander. But we have multiple witnesses attesting that he was last seen with them. I have men looking for him. No success yet.”

“Is there anything else I should know about?”

Loriel had meant it sardonically, but it seemed Garahel wasn't done delivering bad news.

“Kristoff’s body was found in the courtyard a few days ago.” Yvanne took her eyes off the carnage to look up at him. “It was already in an advanced state of decay. His ashes have been returned to his widow.”

“I see,” Loriel said coolly. “We’ll investigate this, Garahel. Please leave us for now.”

If he found the order strange, he didn’t show it. He bowed, and departed.

Yvanne was still staring at the carnage. Loriel touched her gently on the arm. “Yvanne, I am... so sorry. This is entirely my fault. If I hadn’t held us up, if I’d agreed to leave Soldier’s Peak when you wanted to, this would never have happened. I don’t know what to say. If you’re furious with me, I understand.”

Yvanne produced a dry, ugly bark of a laugh. “You know, love, one of these days you’re going to have to realize that you aren’t responsible for every horrible thing that happens in this world.”

“Maybe I am,” Loriel said. She’d meant it as a joke, but it had some out a little manic and unsteady. Yvanne didn’t respond. She tightened her grip on her arm. She needed to fix this, somehow. “I haven’t been studying necromancy recently, but I know a few rare spells. It might not work, but I think I can raise one of these corpses, ask it what really happened—”

“Stop it,” Yvanne said, shaking her off. “Just stop it! No necromancy, no corpse interviews, none of that! This is already awful enough as it is. What’s the point of dragging some poor sod out from whatever rest he’s made it to just so he can confirm what’s obvious enough?”

“ Is it obvious?” Loriel said softly.

“I should damn well fucking say so,” Yvanne said. “Seems pretty clear to me. Our Anders got himself possessed, dragged poor Justice into it, lost his damn mind, and tore apart a handful of innocent boys because his paranoid fucking ass couldn’t handle life on the outside of the tower walls.”

Loriel winced. “You really think he’d do something like this?”

There was a moment, and both of them were aware of it, even if later they both pretended not to be. In that moment they both thought, no. That Yvanne’s explanation was plausible, tempting, and wrong. After all, it didn’t take much inventiveness to generate an alternative version of events, one where Anders’ paranoia was entirely correct, where he had no choice, where he acted in self-defense.

But if it were true, that thing that they both were thinking—if it were true—then it meant that this really was Loriel’s fault. That she had known about everything, about Anders’ fears and Rolan and Justice, and had let it happen anyway. Had simply gone off to Soldier’s Peak on her own business and ignored it. And it meant that Yvanne had known, too, and closed her eyes and trailed after Loriel like she always did. Because that way she could take the path of least resistance, and still call herself virtuous. Devoted. Reliable.

If it were true, it would tear them apart. Maybe not right away, but someday visible on the horizon. After all, who could live with that self knowledge?

If it were true.

“Maybe not the Anders I knew,” Yvanne said eventually. “But we’ve both changed. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

“Oh, Yvanne…” Loriel sighed.

Yvanne inhaled, closing her eyes. “Can we please just burn these corpses and go home? Maker, I’m going to have to write their families, aren’t I?”

“I’ll do that,” Loriel told her, rubbing small circles into her shoulders. “I’m the Commander. It’s my job.”

“Doing that now, are you?” Yvanne muttered. Loriel ignored that, because she was hurting, and didn’t mean it, and anyway, she was right.

Maybe, she thought desperately, maybe Yvanne was right. Maybe they really were just innocent boys. Anders really did have a tendency for paranoia. Who was she to say?

The most difficult part was gathering up the limbs. Some had been flown well out of the clearing. There was probably no danger of anything possessing a body so dismembered, but corpses were to be burned. It was proper.

They could have had their men do this for them, but magical fire burned hotter and brighter, and this way it was over quicker. A few weeks from now, this clearing would heal. It would be green and peaceful again.

Yvanne remembered the time she had shown Justice the sparrow’s nest. Was that spot around here, somewhere? She felt like retching all over again.

When the pyre had reduced the remains to nothing but ash and memory, they doused the embers.

At some point, Loriel took Yvanne’s hand, and she didn’t shake her off.

“What are we going to do about this?” Yvanne said hollowly.

“I don’t know.”

“Should we look for him? Send men to bring him in?”

“We could do that.”

“And what would we do even if we found him? Execute him?”

“Is that what you want?” Loriel asked.

Yvanne sniffed. “No. Of course I don’t.” She rubbed at her eyes. “But he could hurt someone. We’d be responsible.” She was aware of who she sounded like, and was already busily hating herself for it.

“You saw what he did to those men,” Loriel said quietly. “If we send more after him, they’ll likely never come back.”

The thought of sending actual Templars after a boy they’d both grown up with was so vile that it didn’t even brook mentioning.

“So we cover it up.”

“We’ll make up a story. Something about secret Warden business.”

“What about Garahel?”

“Do you trust him?”

“I want to say yes, but…”

“Then I have a spell for that.”

“Alright. I suppose...alright.”

Loriel hugged her, squeezing tight. “I’m sorry this happened.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Then, very quietly: “He was my friend. They were both my friends.”

What could she possibly do but hold on tighter? “It’ll be alright, love. I don’t know how, but it will.”

And it was. For a time.

#dragon age #femslash #dragon age: awakening #amell #surana #please read my wizard lesbian fanfiction

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chaotic-good-hawke · 5 years

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About the Muse Meme

Tagged by the wonderful @bisexualryder! Thank you, deary!

― your muse’s name:

Damita Mavis Surana

― one favorite picture / faceclaim of your muse:

Picture is by @star--nymph and Damita’s face claim is Ashley Moore

― two headcanons you have for your muse:

1. Her Magic: Precise, measured, cautious. Her motions and castings are flawless, practiced over and over again, any instructions memorized by heart. She knows magic can be dangerous, but she has never feared it. She just learns to control it, to bend it to her quiet will. A natural healer, she studies medicine at the Circle. While travelling for the Blight, she is fascinated by Morrigan’s abilities, something out of fairytales. In time she learns to shift and change, her first form a songbird. It is after the Archdemon is defeated, at Amaranthine, when she uncovers a text outlining blood magic rites. She studies and experiments, wanting to understand completely, and hoping that the cure for the Taint lies between healing and blood magic.

2. Her time at Kinloch Circle: Damita was taken to the Circle when she was 4 years old. Her memories of her family are distant, fuzzy, but filled with hope and longing. She dreams of reuniting with them. Those first years, she clung to her fellow apprentices Jowan, Asher Amell, and Felicia and trailed after the robes of older apprentices and mages like Anders and Karl. At the age of 8, she discovered her love of learning and the power that come with new knowledge. She would spent hours upon hours in the library and when she was older, in the labs, testing new theories. Shy by nature, she was sweet, but curious. She was never targeted by the templars, not in any true way, besides the general templarness. But her friends were. So, she learned to be subtle with her magic, to use it to retaliate against those who hurt her friends, never acting rashly, but punishing them all the same. They never suspected her. Not even after she helped Anders escape. She had built her image of the good little obedient mage very well.

― three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

Research: Damita loves reading and learning, whether ancient stories or scientific texts. There is power and freedom in knowledge, safety and hope. She journals everything, her experiences, experiments, observations. Anything that might be useful/that she needs to remember. Zevran takes her to Antiva and gets her access to some of the royal libraries. Leliana gets her access to Chantry holdings. She is hungry for answers to her questions and will lose hours or days in her research. She needs someone to remind her to eat and sleep. Leliana has found her more than once asleep at her desk or over a book.

Playing the Lute: Towards the end of the Blight, Leliana picks up a lute and after seeing Damita’s interest in it, teaches her to play. After that, Damita always carries one with her. When she is separated from her love, she would play, letting the music ease her loneliness and quiet her thoughts. Leliana sometimes calls her her little songbird.

Practicing Magic: Damita never stops practicing, never wanting to lose her skill. Perhaps it is partially fueled by lingering fears, but she never takes for granted that magic needs to be controlled. She does have fun with it, at times, using it to entertain her friends. But she lives by the motto that practice makes perfect. To the point that Leliana has woken up to Damita mumbling and sleep casting. Damita cringes at the time Leliana woke her up, because their room was covered in flowers.

― seven people your muse loves/likes:

1. Leliana: She loves Leliana fiercely and openly. It is new for her, something she didn’t even know to hope for. The love she shares with Leli is not like anything she had witnessed before in the Circle. Their relationship builds slowly, Damita taken with the worldliness of Leliana, the trials she has been through, her faith, and Leliana is taken with Damita’s goodness, her quick nature, her inquiring mind. They share music, have long discussions into the night. They are married a few years after the Blight, in a small private ceremony.

2. Zevran: Damita loves Zev like a brother. Like an annoying, teasing brother. He feels the same, finding family with her that he hadn’t allowed himself to have before. He gives her the nickname Dami. He (attempts) to teach her to flirt. He teaches her about poisons, she teaches him healing potions. They swap stories. She does not judge him for his past, but helps him see a better future, a future of his choosing. He helps her understand the world outside the circle, that she doesn’t have to fear. She is his best friend and he is hers.

3. Morrigan: Damita and Morrigan are weary of each other at first, unsure of where they stand with each other. But, they find footing with each other, after Damita heals Morrigan from a minor wound, without a word, just doing it reflexively. Damita in turn is fascinated by Morrigan’s knowledge, her skill, her wilder magic. Once they actually start talking and sharing, a bond is struck and while they do not always agree, they are friends, sisters.

4. Wynne: Wynne is a surrogate mother in many ways for Damita during the Blight. She is older, wiser, she has known the life that is the circle. She loves the older mage. But, she does outgrow her. It starts when Wynne cautions her against pursuing a relationship with Leli. Wynne sees hope for the circles, is fine to live her life with them, even after what they did. Damita learns that there is more, that there is a better way and she cannot and will not go back to the circle. When she hears of Wynne’s death, she mourns an old friend.

5. Alistair: Damita relies on Alistair, trusts him. He is the warden, was the warden, in her eyes. She treasures their friendship. He makes her laugh and she treats him as an equal, valuing his thoughts and opinions. In another life, they might have been more than friends. Damita hates that she helps trap him in a role he doesn’t want. But, she doesn’t trust Anora to be kind to the elves, to the mages. Damita knows Alistair will and that he will try to help the Ferelden people. She makes it a point to visit him whenever she can, trying to ease the burden thrust onto him.

6. Sir Barkington: Damita loves her mabari, okay? He is loyal, protective, and yes sometimes smells bad, but just look at his face! She travels with him always, guarding her back. When they are in the city, she has a bow tie for him to wear. He looks very noble in it.

7. Anders: She has strong feelings about many of her friends from the Circle, but Anders is also her fellow warden. She conscripted him to save him. He was one that tucked her in at night when she had a nightmare. He taught her little tricks to make her laugh. He is like an older brother to her. When she searches for the cure, she tracks him down to go with her.

(Not mentioned Cathal Tabris, Catheryne Cousland, and Ciembe Mahariel from the multi-warden AU, but she does love them as well - or her two daughters, Beata and Delphine, who are adopted after the exalted council.)

― a phobia your muse has:

Tranquility: Damita is terrified of being made tranquil. The monotone voice, the emotionless responses, the loss of will and agency, the loss of connection with magic and the fade. Needless to say, when Leliana reports back about what happened in Kirkwall, the needless tranquil, the lives ruined, she was heartbroken (let’s not even get into Karl) and angry.

I will tag: @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul, @gay-dragon-age, @cutieink, @free-the-mages, @red-wardens, @saltlordofold, @slightly-sad-scribe, @trvelyans, @musically-magic, @dickeybbqpit, @loveydoveypiperwright and anyone else who wants to! No pressure!

#Damita Surana #dragon age #oc info meme #MY OCs #My writing #warden surana #The Warden #dragon age origins #long post

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faylock · 5 years

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About The Muse

Thank you to @loveydoveypiperwright for tagging me! I had a lot of fun doing this :)!

― your muse’s name:

Aspen Surana

― one favorite picture/face claim of your muse:

Facecalim is Tashi Rodriguez

― two headcanons you have for your muse:

it takes her and Duncan longer than usual to get to Ostragar from the Circle because she just wants to look at everything and run and explore. But also sit in the middle of the field and take everything in, breath in the fresh air, feel the wind in her hair. While Duncan wants to get to camp asap he lets this one slide. Aspen isn’t a crier, but once the circle was out of sight and she realized she was finally free, she completely breaks down. Also, her feet hurt.

Aspen tries to dive headfirst into life outside the circle. She often would end up overwhelming herself, her party helped her adjust a lot. Specifically, Alistair helped her adapt comfortably and without judgment to her new life. Some examples include Alistair teaching her how to swim, and how to use a sword and shield, or Morrigan teaching her how to cook

― three things that your muse likes doing in their free time:

Aspen remembers her mother always braiding her hair when she was younger. She finds great comfort in caring for and putting her hair in new styles. Due to the act is closely associated with her mother she doesn’t let many people touch her hair, only those she closes too are allowed to touch it. She does, however, love playing with other people's hair. Her, Leliana, and Zevran definitely have braid trains in camp every so often.

Aspen was always naturally curious and she loved learning as much as she could about just about everything. Growing up her family didn’t have many books but few that are of great adventures and history of Ferelden. In the Circle, she craves being free and picks up an interest in the politics and history of Thedas as well as stories of the grey wardens, powerful magic, and other epic tales. During the blight, she would often stop in town book stores to pick up new books. She also likes to jot things she doesn’t know down in a journal.

Sat in camp Aspen is often found near Leliana as she plays her lute and sings of wondrous tales. She loves to listen to the lovely bard. When Leliana offers to give her a few lessons she happily accepts.

― seven people your muse loves/likes:

Alistair: Aspen loves this big dork so much. At first, she’s unsure about an almost Templar but soon understands that he didn’t want that life, and would never hurt her. The two of them grow together and become each other's rock. they truly adore each other. They don’t get to see each other as much as they would like, and they miss each other a lot when Alistair is away on kingly duties and when she heads off to find the cure for the calling.

Leliana: platonic soulmates! While she isn’t devout herself, she admires Leliana’s commitment and passion. Aspen always feels at ease when she’s with Leliana, and the two remain very close after the events of DA:O.

Morrigan: Sisters. Aspen is so in awe of Morrigan when they first meet, an apostate; a free Mage. Aspen and Morrigan see each other as sisters, often studying magic and the arcane together. Aspen always makes sure she’s there to support Morrigan and keep her safe. She often visits her and Kerian in Orlais.

Zevran: the two of them relate to each other in many ways, and grow quite close because of this. Being taken away from their family, and their people at a young age, and being forced to live or be something they didn’t want. They bond over these experiences and place great trust in one another. Zev also tends to enable Aspen’s more devious side. The two of them are each other ranting buddies, with the popular topic being stupid shems.

Wynne: Aspen and Wynne spend a lot of time together during the blight. Aspen often went to her for advice and looked at her as a motherly figure.

Anders: they’re bros! They kill darkspawn and talk about mage rights and play with Ser Pounce-a-lot. Post-Kirkwall Aspen offers Anders refugee and protection when she can.

Violet Amell: the two were very close childhood friends in the circle. When they got older they both realized they had feelings for one another. They were inseparable; they’re relationship really helped both of them realize their worth and grow to love their magical gifts. Very wholesome. When Aspen comes back to save the circle, she rescues Violet from the demon attack. Aspen helps the now apostate Violet Amell to escape to Tevintar. They happen to grow out of each other but Violet will always be Aspens first love. They remain friends and still keep in touch through letters.

― a phobia your muse has:

Becoming tranquil / going back to the circle

I’ll tag @comraderex @rainofaugustsith @darth-khal @emotionalsupportsith

#this is probs superrrrr messy and i def didnt proof read so sorry if nothing makes sense #oc: aspen surana

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darlingrutherford · 5 years

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Lana - 2, 6, 16, 25, 32, 48; Sarya - 3, 5, 9, 15, 21, 26, 35; Frederick - 7, 12, 18, 24, 30, 42, 49. Sorry, that's a lot but your babies are so fascinating!)

@liveinthehills asgjkhkjshg thank you so much for all the asks!

From the Super Detailed Questions About Your OCs list

For Lana Surana-

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

Hero of Ferelden and Champion of Redcliffe are really the only two titles Lana has received (the obvious ones, from saving Redcliffe during the Blight and ending the Blight itself). Lana never becomes the Warden Commander of Ferelden, wishing instead to focus on assisting the wardens rebuild after the Blight with Alistair's help, rather than lead them. Alistair likes to refer to her as the Goddess of Ferelden, and does so often that at least a handful of people in Ferelden actually think that it must be the correct title.

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

Lana was very studious inside the Ferelden Circle. She enjoys quietly reading on her own, and spent a lot of time reading up on various magical theories as well as Andrastian history. She wasn't very fond of hands-on studies, not being too keen on casting spells even though she was very good at it. Irving would have had her take her Harrowing at a much younger age because of how quickly she grasped onto knowledge and magical skills, but her hesitancy to use them was what held her as an apprentice until she was 18.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

Once she leaves the Circle, Lana collects a tiny rock from each place they visit. The first one she collects is from the shore of the Circle. She does this as a reminder of where she came from, where she's been, and as a reminder of everything that's happened. She keeps them in a small pouch at her side.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Lana adores Alistair's sense of humor. She's been through a lot herself, so she can appreciate the self deprecation of his humor. Lana may not have the worldly experience to get some jokes, but she can feel the levity emotion of the situation and enjoys hearing people's laughter more than anything. She doesn't crack many jokes herself, although when she does they're usually rather sarcastic.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

In the Circle, Lana tended to gravitate towards mage robes that had purples or blues in them, same for her nightgowns. After leaving the Circle, Lana wears the blue grey warden mage armor. Because of her height, most armor tends to be much too long on her and she ends up having to modify it, so she doesn't stray much from that uniform. She has a long tunic she never took in that she wears to sleep, although once she and Alistair start sharing a tent all the time, she either steals one of his clean tunics or otherwise they go without. Lana's hair is red (think very bright copper), and straight. It's to the middle of her back, and she always wears it in a tight French braid that begins near her left temple and ends at the right at her neck. It's a habit she still clings to of when her mother would do her hair growing up.

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

Lana's a bit nervous around large groups of people. She has a bit of trauma related to being attacked for being a mage, so she's always worried of how people will react to her if she doesn't know them. With her friends, however, tight knit celebrations are something she can enjoy. She's had to be dragged into a few she definitely didn't want to attend (a status such as Hero of Ferelden will do that), but her fear of disappointing someone overrides her fear of being judged.

For Sarya Lavellan-

3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory?

Sarya enjoyed her childhood very much. Growing up without her parents, Keeper Deshanna raised Sarya to be kind and groomed her for a role of leadership at an early age. Sarya took to it with stride, really enjoying everything she learned and the opportunity to be an asset to her clan at such a young age. Her fondest memories are of the harvests she would participate in, as well as all the times she would sneak out at night to explore the Free Marches (sometimes alone, sometimes with her close friend Shala). A more bad memory would be when her clan visited Wycome for trading. Sarya witness a young child burning himself on a forge, and so she quickly helped cool his hand by dunking a cloth in a bucket of water and freezing the cloth with a bit of ice magic. The kid was excited at the show of magic and grateful, but the adults around became concerned and alerted the Chantry about her. Even though the Chantry has an understanding with the Dalish’s ways of having a few mages in one clan, they sent a couple of templars to investigate anyway. They confronted her in the forest outside of Wycome, but ultimately left without incident. Sarya is convinced that, if she hadn't been with a group of their hunters at the time, she would have been carted off to a Circle. This experience grew a small fear of humans for her that nagged at her mind for a small while when she was brought to Haven.

5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults?

Sarya was an only child, so no siblings for her. She is very close with a lot of people in her clan, though, and thinks of them as siblings. Renan is the most prominent one, since he's always been one to stay close to her and want to protect her. Her relationship with him became strained once his feelings for her grew into more than friendship, feelings which she never returned. I'll leave it at that, since it effects her in ways that would spoil later chapters of To Weather the Storm ;)

9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals?

I like to joke that Sarya is my “Disney Princess” OC. She gets on incredibly well with animals, and they seem to be drawn to her calm demeanor. The halla that traveled with her clan always knew they could find a treat in her pocket, and it's not uncommon for her to be able to calmly talk herself out of a bad situation with a bear, something that catches Cassandra entirely off guard in the Hinterlands.

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking?

Sarya enjoys cooking. She's good at taking what she has on hand and making something edible out of it. Because of this, she's usually the one who ends up preparing food at the campsite with her companions, and she does it gladly. After the time they let Varric make the stew, she now offers her services first thing.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

Sarya has the patience of a saint, but she absolutely loses her temper when she's pushed too far. She never screams or throws things, but she's not above yelling and pointing her finger. Cullen knows better than anyone, having been at the end of her temper a few times just because of how stubborn he can be, always in cases of him not taking care of himself or not allowing her to help him (most commonly with his lyrium withdrawals).

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

Sarya hums when she's happy, and smiles a lot. She wears her emotions on her sleeve when she's in a good mood. If they get a few drinks in her (or one or two particularly strong ones), she's a very happy drunk and will spend a lot of time singing and dancing with a bright smile on her face.

35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure?

Sarya loves sweets. This would probably be considered an unguilty pleasure, since she does nothing to hide the fact, so much so that it's not uncommon for nobles to send sweets along with their letters in hopes of gaining the Inquisitor’s favor (her favorite are the hard cookies with orange zest dipped in chocolate that Gaspard sends with his correspondence). As for a guilty pleasure, Sarya has secretly read one of two of Varric's books in her spare time when no one is looking. She never had access to romance books like them, and finds herself quite engrossed in the stories.

For Frederick Trevelyan-

7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood?

Frederick's parents had him spend a lot of his time studying, so he didn't have a lot of close friends growing up. He did have a friend, Caleb, whom he considered his closest friend growing up, though they grew apart once Caleb settled down.

12. What is their favourite food?

Frederick would never admit it to his parents, but he's a sucker for Orlesian cuisine. He loves the sweetness of their foods, preferring it to the more lightly seasoned vegetables and meat one gets in Ferelden. Frederick isn't vegetarian by any sense, but he does tend to gravitate towards vegetables and fruit over meat. He's especially fond of carrots that have been glazed with honey.

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

Frederick loves poetry. He and Cassandra have been known to sneak off together to read aloud with one another, just two friends enjoying a romantic prose. He has a wealth of knowledge when it comes to Ferelden history, but he had to study so much of it as a kid that his reading of it is more out of habit than anything.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

Frederick sleeps like the dead. Once he's out, he either needs to wake up on his own or else be shaken awake. He doesn't move much in his sleep, although Dorian will often shove him over onto his side to stop the snoring that ensues when he's on his back. He definitely prefers a softer mattress, and eagerly returns to his bed after a week with his bedroll on the hard ground.

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Frederick does yoga every morning. It's a ritual to him, something his mother encouraged from a young age to calm his high energy. If he's unable to do it he's off for the day: he'll be a bit less level headed than usual, antsy, and turning a few heads as he runs back and forth across Skyhold trying to busy himself. Frederick still has quite a bit of energy even after his morning routine, but it grounds him and allows him to take the day a bit more slow.

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

Frederick only wants to do his family and the Maker proud. He feels a bit of guilt, knowing that he can never make them happy in the way they had imagined before he came out, and works his hardest to make them proud in other ways. After being with Dorian, this extends to him as well. He realizes that family isn't only blood, and he finds himself wanting to do everything he can to make Dorian proud of him. Frederick would sacrifice anything for the safety of others. It makes him reckless, but it's something he feels very passionate about. As far as secret ambitions, Frederick does want a family, although he isn't sure how that will play out with the path that was given to him.

49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them?

Frederick was never sentimental before. After Trespasser, the message crystal Dorian gifts him becomes his most prized possession. With Solas’ threat and everything Dorian has to take care of in Tevinter, they have to be apart for some time, but Frederick always keeps the message crystal close to his heart and converses with Dorian multiple times a day.

#liveinthehills #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age origins #sarya lavellan #lana surana #frederick trevelyan #my ocs #oc asks

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empresstress13 · 5 years

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Dragon Age Questions

I was tagged by the wonderful @dirthara-mama !

01) Favourite game of the series?

So, as @wardsarefunctioning, I am terrible at answering “favourite” questions. XD In all honesty, I really don’t have a favourite though. I think all 3 games have different strengths and weaknesses, but I enjoy playing them all.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

My close friend had been telling me about it for awhile, and then while I was staying over at her house after a party she had me play a bit of DAO on her console. Now, something you have to understand: I am pretty shit at playing on consoles. I enjoy it, but I’m terrible at it. I adored the game either way. As soon as I got home I bought it for my PC.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’ve played DAO about 7 times (not including the 100+ hours I LOST), DA2 4 times in full and have a couple partial runs, and DAI 6 full runes and several partial as well. . .

04) Favourite race to play as?

I’ve already mentioned my favourite issue y’all. I do have a huge soft spot for elves. . . but I seriously love all my OC children.

05) Favourite class?

I lean towards rogue or mage usually, but it depends on my mood! Sometimes you just really want to swing a giant two-handed weapon, you know?

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

Some things I’ve done differently, but other things I’ve done very similarly each time. There are certain choices I always make, and in general I can’t do true “jerk” runs. . .because I start feeling horrible 5 minutes in. XD That’s not to say that I never say any of the disagreeable options. . . just not often, and usually nothing really mean? I do romance different characters though, and there are choices and options that change depending on who I’m playing. I do try and stick to a bit of character-driven rp? Which is interesting, because sometimes even if I arrive at the “same” choice for two characters, their reasoning would be worlds apart? Or alternatively sometimes they’ll have similar feelings on an issue, but their “solutions” differ.

07) Go-to adventuring group?

I try to change it up pretty regularly? I’m not sure if I have a consistent group.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

I have something like 20 DA OCs (I have a problem. I know.). . . .but there are some that are more developed than others for sure. I’d say that the ones that I know the best in my head are: Nehnara Surana, Kyria Cousland, Beatrix Tabris, Elraen Mahariel, Evangeline Hawke, Mirabel Hawke, Svetlana Cadash, Adhlea Lavellan, Revasulahn Lavellan, Lilith Trevelyan, Esther Trevlyan, and Innanis Adaar.

09) Favourite romance?

hmmm. . . . so this is difficult because I could take this as “the one that makes me the happiest” or “the one that I find most intriguing”. . .which are somewhat different. In DAO I really loved both Leliana and Zevran’s romances. I loved Fenris, Merrill, and Isabela in DA2. My favs in DAI were Solas and Josie. Merrill is hands down my absolute favorite romanceable character; I absolutely adore her. However. . .the Solas romance is probably the one that’s taken up the most of my thoughts/ fan discussion. Probably because it’s such a frustrating romance. XD (My former girlfriend said it was because I have a voice kink, like intelligence, and am emotionally masochistic. . . which I won’t comment on. Instead I’ll think of Merrill and happy things.)

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

I’ve read some of them, but I’ve been horrible about order!

11) If you read them, which was your favourite book?

Oof. . . .there’s a lot of things in Masked Empire that I find hugely frustrating. . . but it also has Felassan. I adore Felassan. I wish I could have had more Felassan in my life. So. There is that.

12) Favourite DLCs?

Oof. . . .hmmm, I really enjoyed Return to Ostagar? Is that weird? And the one with the castle in DAO. I don’t remember the name right now. I have lots of feelings about Trespasser of course, and Jaws of Hakkon is another one I really liked.

13) Things that annoy you.

It’s hard for me to separate “things that annoy me and could be different” and “things that annoy me but are limitations of the medium”? Like. . . I always want more choices, but they really can only offer a limited number of possibilities in a video game? Specifically speaking about dialogue choices: I wish that there were more options to disagree with characters without being a complete asshole to them? There are plenty of times were you can, but that’s what has stuck out the most to me when I’m like “I really want to say something else here” is usually when I’m being forced between “agree” or “disagree in the nastiest way possible” (and “no comment”). Those times are probably less than I’m thinking but they always stick out to me?

There are things within the lore that are odd to me, and I probably choice to ignore or skate around.

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

FERELDEN (for the dogs if nothing else)

15) Templars or mages?

Mages (and Delrin Barris. He can stay.)

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

They are mostly in the same universe. . . and mostly still alive. Or that’s at least true for my wardens and my inquisitors. I have a “canon” setup for DAO more or less (Nehnara Surana is my main HoF, but Beatrix Tabris, Syndis Brosca, and Elraen Mahariel all are alive and important to varying degrees. Kyria Coulsand died during the sacking of Highever :( . . .and Alyn Amell is . . .probably alive and in the Tower?). I’m not decided on my “canon” Hawke.

I’m also not decided on my “canon” inquisitor, but I know that a lot of them are all around. My Trevelyan family is very, very large. . .

I also have some non-player character OCs that I don’t talk about as much but know things about?

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Uuuuhh. . . I have too many. XD The first time I played DAO, I named the mabari Huan, because I’m a huge nerd.

Nehnara named her mabari after her late father, and Beatrix named hers Blossom.

18) Have you installed any mods?

I did for DAI with a lot of help from @thema-sal-shiral, but it was difficult as all hell for me and I’m scared to mess with it at all. Ever again.

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

Nehnara greatly preferred it to the alternative.

20) Hawke’s personality?

Mirabel- Purple-ish; Evangeline - Blue-ish ; Kelda - a hot mess ; Leah - Red/Purple

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

No?

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

Uhhhh. . . .someone asked something similar for Nehnara Surana recently and here was my issue for answering for her: she’s really, really, super suspicious about this as an offer. There are things she want to change in the depths of her heart, but who is offering? Why? What do they get out of it? Are there consequences? There are always consequences or a price of some sort. . .

Lilith Trevelyan. . . would really like to find a way to save her two best friends from her days as an apprentice.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Yup! Look above to see my weird warden mess. I also tend to ignore certain parts of lore so. . . .

24) Are any of your character(s) based on someone?

A lot of my characters are based on parts of different people I know or have seen in real life, but not in full?

25) Who did you leave in the Fade?

I haven’t always left the same person. . .but it is usually Stroud. DX I’m sorry.

26) Favourite mount?

. . . .I have the perverse urge to say Bog Unicorn. Because I can.

tagging: @ellstersmash , @katalyna-rose , @lycheejellytea , @saphyremelodies , @thevikingwoman , @bearly-tolerable , @solverne-02 , @nordxz , @befooled , @elevanetheirin , @wardsarefunctioning

As always: Feel free to ignore! Only do this if you have the time and/or inclination.♥ Love y’all!

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ghostwise · 5 years

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Dragon Age Questions

@dirthara-mama tagged me for this! Thank you!! <3 I’ll tag @mabarihounds @antivan-surana and @vlwv

01) Favourite game of the series?

Origins! It’s the first one I played, and each time I pick it up I find something entirely new in the experience. The characters feel like old friends, and the dialogue is really charming. It also has a ridiculous high-fantasy vibe that I love, which seems to be lacking in later games. I know it’s silly, I know it’s absurd and dated... but you just can’t beat that possessed rhyming oak tree npc…

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

When Inquisition was announced, I started seeing a lot of it on my dash, so a friend and I started playing the series! I was hooked pretty much right away.

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’ve finished Origins three times, DA2 twice, and I’m currently playing Inquisition for the first time!! Exciting!

I also have a handful of unfinished playthroughs on Origins, which were attempts to create new Warden characters, but none of them got past the first quest. I just love my Mahariel too much…

04) Favourite race to play as?

Elves! I love the worldbuilding behind them, the city elves, the Dalish, and the ancient elves. I hate pretty much everything about how these issues are handled in game, though.

05) Favourite class?

Mage!

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

Pretty much. I have tried to play as different characters so as to explore different outcomes and decisions, but again… I love my OCs too damn much.

07) Go-to adventuring group?

Origins: Hamal, Zevran, Morrigan, Sten. DA2: Renata, Varric, Anders, Isabela. Inquisition: Neluayo, Varric, Blackwall, Sera—so far!

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Listen, I love creating OCs and putting ridiculous amounts of thought into them. It went from being a coping mechanism as a newly immigrated depressed and anxious child, to something I still love as an adult. I have a hard time picking one OC I put the most thought into…

But because I’ve played Origins the most, and played it first, Hamal has a lot more content in his tag than my other Dragon Age OCs. He’s my baby and I adore him.

09) Favourite romance?

Zevran’s, no question. I think he may be one of my favorite characters in the series, romance or no! I love his background and his personality and his character arc. My boy...

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

Nope!

11) If you read them, which was your favourite book?

Didn’t read any of them but I do own World of Thedas v1 and v2, and it seems each time I open it I find something new and surprising about the world. I love it!

12) Favourite DLCs?

I really enjoyed Return to Ostagar for Origins, and Legacy for Dragon Age 2. I know Inquisition has some amazing DLC content so I’m looking forward to that!

13) Things that annoy you.

The constant retconning, and rewriting of issues to suit a certain agenda in game. Especially regarding treatment of the mages or the elves. Like, I know this is a fictional narrative, okay? But it’s annoying to watch the story go from ‘Templars are unequivocally abusing their power and oppressing this group of people’ to ‘well they have good reason for it, sometimes you have to massacre an entire population because of one incident, it’s Gray Morality™ sweetie!’

Nah, it’s just bad writing! And it’s okay to admit that lol

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

I have no strong feelings on the matter. Would love to hear more about Antiva or Seheron!

15) Templars or mages?

Mages!

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

Same universe. I don’t have an interest in having multiple Wardens or Hawkes tbh, I... I get too attached lol

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Hamal calls his mabari D’alen. He is the most spoiled mabari in all of Thedas, typically guarding the camp, never fighting or being placed in danger. Renata calls her mabari Nicolo, and she loves putting warpaint on him. The dog accompanied Carver at Ostagar and takes care of the family over their years in Kirkwall. I still need to name Neluayo’s hart!

18) Have you installed any mods?

A few for Origins (different robes for Morrigan and the realistic appearance mods for companions), and several for DA2 (dialogue tweaks and new hair/appearance options). But Inquisition seems kinda complicated to mod, and I don’t want to break the game hhhh

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

No, he wanted to find Tamlen and go back to his clan. He actually did take off after Ostagar, driven by anger and fear and homesickness. Alistair was devastated. Morrigan had to go and fetch him, convincing him to return.

20) Hawke’s personality?

A good mix of purple and blue, but let’s be real, Renata is pink. Whimsy, whimsy, whimsy.

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

I haven’t played around with armor creation yet… sounds fun though!

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

Hamal would have gone after Tamlen. It’s his greatest regret. Even before encountering him as a ghoul, Hamal was never able to shake the feeling that Tamlen had survived. But Duncan shot down every hope, and there was so much going on after Ostagar… there came a point where Hamal accepted that Tamlen was gone.

When he shows up again, too far beyond any help but a blade between his ribs? It’s not something he ever gets over.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Oh I love breaking canon.

Hamal never becomes Warden Commander. His political influence by the time of the Landsmeet is as perilous as you might expect of an angry and traumatized Dalish elf whose interest was more on surviving and defeating the Blight, than, say, being on any noble’s good side. The only reason he isn’t immediately executed is because he and his allies called in many favors and made many concessions. One being that he would leave the Wardens and not remain politically involved. Frankly, the crown and nobility hoped he would perish against the Archdemon. But here we are!

Alistair becomes Warden Commander instead. Receiving the boon comes with challenges of its own. The Dalish receive all the land that was most tainted by the Blight. Reconstruction takes years and is still an issue during Inquisition era.

To that end, the political influence of the Dalish during Inquisition leads to a lot of changes for Neluayo’s canon too. Because the elves have a hold over much of the south, the Inquisition needs to ally with them to even gain access to those regions. Neluayo being Dalish herself smooths things over some, but she is really in a complex position, with the Dalish, with the Chantry, with the monarchy… being stationed in the Free Marches, Clan Lavellan is one of the clans that has yet to join the southern Dalish. It’s a huge stressor for her.

As for Hawke, I keep both her siblings alive. Renata needs her little sister ;; <3 They do all go their separate ways after events in Kirkwall though. Orsino is also alive. Varric was clearly covering for him!

And I know Hawke already has a VA buuuut I headcanon Renata’s voice to sound more like Brittany Howard’s! Because it’s adorable.

24) Are any of your character(s) based on someone?

Not really. I never create them with any one source of inspiration or influence in mind.

25) Who did you leave in the Fade?

I’m gonna leave Stroud in the Fade! Makes my life a lot easier lol

26) Favourite mount?

I’ll agree that the harts are amazing! And they’re just so TALL. Love those majestic Thedosian megafauna. The bog unicorns are cute too, they’ve grown on me, surprisingly. Ha!

#this was fun!! thank you so much :)#dragon age

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mahalzevran · 5 years

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DA 20+ Questions

Tagged by @antivan-surana thanks! Tagging @situationnormal @the-dread-doggo @acepavus @aroundofgwent @lakambaeni @kxnways @fuckbioware (no pressure ofc) and anyone who wants to?

The rest is under a read more because it’s long

01) Favourite game of the series?

Origins, only because you got less and less op as a mage as the games went on. I love all the games tbh.

02) How did you discover Dragon Age?

My friend got my sister into it. They kept talking and talking about it so finally I was like “ok lets see what the big deal is” and here I am now

03) How many times you’ve played the games?

I’ve done Origins twice fully, DA2 four times fully (omg I didn’t realize this until now lol) and DA:I just once fully. I have one unfinished playthrough of Origins with a Cousland, and I’m in the middle of maybe two of DA:I. I think I’ve gone back and replayed certain parts of both Origins and DA:I plenty of times.

04) Favourite race to play as?

Elf I guess? Though I’ve only fully played as a human and elf. I’m in the middle of a dwarf playthrough and I’m thinking of doing a qunari one in the future. It might change idk.

I just really liked playing as an elf in Origins so that’s why I got into elves. But the funny thing is, I wasn’t even thinking of playing as an elf when I played for the first time. I wanted to play as a human. I just did it on a whim.

05) Favourite class?

Mage, hands down. Realistically, they’re the most versatile class. They can do range and melee since anyone can learn how to fight with weapons. But the last two games won’t let you so :)

Also, this stems from the fact that I’ve been a harry potter fan since I could remember.

06) Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions each time?

In my full, proper playthroughs that I’ve finished, it’s slightly different but still the same basic ideas. Sided with mages, agreed with Anders, etc.

But I am planning to try an evil playthrough in the future so

07) Go-to adventuring group?

DA:O (I have two)

Leliana, Wynne, Shale - the OG crew; they were my main crew in my first playthrough and it was a pretty even party

Zevran, Leliana, Alistair - the elf crew; esp. with Rhian they’re all elves because I saw a theory that Leliana is half elf and I’m down

DA2

It’s a mixed bag. If I’m not playing as a mage, I usually take Anders a lot because we need a healer and Merrill can’t heal. I tend not to take Sebastian as much after I max his friendship. After Sebastian, I take Aveline the least. Other than that I just mix it up. Unless I’m romancing someone, then I take them every time.

I’d love to take Anders, Fenris, and Merrill out more often but I hate how mean they all are to each other (looking @ u bioware 👀)

DA:I

My first playthrough, I mixed it up a lot in the beginning but then I ended up bringing Solas, Cole, and Blackwall a lot near the end for some reason?

I love taking Vivienne, Dorian, and Solas out, especially if I’m playing a mage, because it’s such a pretty fireworks show

In general though, if I’m romancing someone I take them with me almost always.

08) Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

I think it’s a tie between Rhian and Lu.

09) Favourite romance?

To no one’s surprise, it’s Zevran :3

Solas is second because I just really like that angst.

10) Have you read any of the comics/books?

I’ve read The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak, and Until We Speak (because someone gifted me the Omnibus) and The Calling.

I also have Hard in Hightown, which I should probably read lol, and the art book of inquisition.

11) If you read them, which was your favourite book?

The Calling solely because of my mom Fiona and my dad Duncan.

12) Favourite DLCs?

Awakening because I love everyone and its also really funny that Rhian, who is 19 at that point, had to basically babysit people older than her and also run a whole arling.

I love both Legacy and Mark of the Assassin. Mark of the Assassin was really funny (though I hated the stealth part). I love Legacy specifically because when I was fighting Corypheus, both Varric and Anders K.O.’d and it was just me and Carver. It was a special family moment bringing down a whole entire magister together. I also hc that that was canon and it brought Kaia and Carver closer together.

13) Things that annoy you.

I’m gonna talk about the game bc if this is about the fandom, then that’s a whole other thing.

Anders’ writing for one. It doesn’t make sense that he’d approve of giving Fenris back to Danarius. And also that he wouldn’t tell f!Hawke that he’s bi? Then there’s the fact that Anders, Fenris, and Merrill all don’t get along when they have a lot in common.

Anything that was written by Lukas Krisdkjsdhkdk. Aveline, Sera, etc. he did a really bad job.

Also didn’t like that mages got less OP in the last two games.

There’s also the tone-deafness? Dorian, a brown man, saying slavery is ok. And also there’s the dialogue between Solas and Vivienne where Solas supposedly “owns” Vivienne. I think he says something like “may you learn”? Solas, a white person, saying this to Vivienne, a black woman, when there’s obvious colorism in Thedas? I think not.

There’s probably other but I can’t think of them right now.

14) Orlais or Ferelden?

Orlais is too snooty and Ferelden doesn’t season their food. I pick Seheron and Laysh because that’s where the Asians are at.

15) Templars or mages?

Mages

16) If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

Originally, my canonverse was Rhian, Kaia, and Luwalhati. Alden and Bolin were part of an AU. Then Alden finagled his way in there, then I decided to have Bolin in there too. So now i have twin Hawkes and Bolin is part of the Inquisition (if he’s a companion or not, I haven’t thought about)

I have plenty of other OCs that I’m planning on, but they’re currently sorted into a different universe.

17) What did you name your pets? (mabari, summoned animals, mounts, etc)

Pikamon for the Origins mabari. It’s a mix between the names of my two dogs, Pikachu and Cinnamon

Cinnachu for the DA2 mabari, also a mix of Pikachu and Cinnamon.

Lu’s mount is the royal sixteen (hart), which is given to you by Clan Lavellan if you manage to keep them alive iirc, and its name is Luntian, the tagalog word for green which is her favorite color. (In a teen!Lu AU, her mount is the bog unicorn bc she’s an edgelord)

18) Have you installed any mods?

It would be more surprising if I didn’t. How else would I manage to have my characters look like the’re poc?? And also get rid of whitewashing and have some continuity. I usually just do cosmetic mods if it’s my first playthrough. Then I do like “cheats” after I finish the game fully.

Fun fact, I once spent like 2+ hrs modding Origins to have the Zev romance the way I want. I also stayed up until like 5am trying to make Solas look like his concept art lol (it didn’t really work)

19) Did your Warden want to become a Grey Warden?

Rhian didn’t not want to become a warden. She read about them and thought they were an honorable order, but she didn’t expect to ever have a chance to become one. Her goal was to just go up in the Circle hierarchy, maybe even become First Enchanter. Then when the time came, she didn’t really have much of a choice.

20) Hawke’s personality?

Kaia is blue and Alden is purple

21) Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquisition?

At first, I didn’t get what the big deal was with crafting. It didn’t seem fun at all lol. Then I tried it and was hooked. I don’t have them matching, but I do tend to try to match my Inquisitor with their LI in some way.

My usual procedure for armor in Inquisition is like this. I make everyone wear heavy armor and pick the materials that have the highest attributes, not caring how ridiculous the colors are. Then I go to tint them using a guide for each companion’s color scheme. This is the same for helmet but I usually have them turned off or have no one wearing one.

The only exception is Varric, Cole, and Blackwall. I have Varric wear the rogue armor that looks like his DA2 outfit, and Cole and Blackwall wear the Grey Warden heavy armor. I tint the grey warden armor using a guide for its color scheme.

I have Bull, Vivienne, and Cole wear their unique helmets.

22) If your character(s) could go back in time to change one thing, what would they change?

Rhian - She’d probably want to re-do how she told Zevran that she wasn’t exactly dead.

Kaia - Taken Quentin’s threat more seriously and killed him before he got to Leandra

Alden - He has no regrets

Luwalhati - wouldn’t have taken Sam and Wis with her so they wouldn’t have had to have died in the conclave explosion

Bolin - None, all of his decisions led him to Dorian and he’s happy with that.

23) Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

They’re all at least part Seheron?

I also hc that neither Carver nor Bethany die because Kaia was able to cast a barrier on both of them before the ogre got them. Then they both became Grey Wardens because Carver contracted the taint in the expedition and wouldn’t join the Wardens unless Bethany came with him too.

Another hc I have is that Sebastian didn’t leave when Anders was spared and stayed to help out. But he went his separate way after because he still didn’t approve of sparing him.

Oh shoot, I almost forgot. The most against canon thing I’ve done probably? Rhian didn’t do the Ritual but she did slay the archdemon without dying. Rhian’s an arcane warrior, so when she slayed it, she was partway in the fade. Being partway into the fade was enough for her essence, I guess, to survive it. But she’s not mortal anymore and kind of a spirit now? So she periodically has to chill in the fade because being in the real world takes a toll on her.

25) Who did you leave in the Fade?

In the game, it was Stroud. I killed Loghain and no way is Alistair gonna be trapped in there. Fiona will be sad. So I made Alistair king in the game only, so Stroud was the one that was left.

This is another off canon thing I did. In my actual canon, Alistair is the warden contact. The Hawke that comes to the Inquisition is both Kaia and Alden. Alden brings Fenris with him because he doesn’t go anywhere without his Boo-Boo. Bethany and Carver also come because Weisshaupt was being weird and it seemed like they would be safer in the Inquisition. Lu + her party, Alistair, Kaia, Alden, Fenris, Bethany, and Carver all come to Adamant. Because there’s so many people, everyone was able to escape the Fade. No one is left behind.

26) Favourite mount? The nugs! All of them :)

Though I don’t really use the mounts lol

#tag meme #whew this was really long omg #thanks for tagging though!#about me

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vvakarians · 5 years

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DA 20 Questions

Tagged by @goblin-deity ! Thank you fam! If anyone wants to be tagged consider yourself tagged!

1. Favorite game of the series

Inquisition! It’s the one I started with! It’s an amazing and beautiful game.

2. How did you discover Dragon Age?

There was a cosplayer I used to follow here on tumblr that cosplayed as this character named Dorian, and then they cosplayed as Fenris. I looked into both characters because I really liked the designs. From there I checked out the game from the library and fell in love with DAI!

3. How many times have you played the games?

I’ve played DAI too many times to count, I can probably count on my pc, which is a handful of times, otherwise on my ps4 at least 25. DA2 I’ve completed exactly twice, played it four times. DA:O I’ve completed exactly once, but played multiple times, like three times I think.

4. Favorite race to play as?

Elves or qunari!

5. Favorite class?

I absolutely love mages, always have. In DAI I play as a necromancer or knight enchanter, in DA2 I play as a blood mage or a spirit healer. I have a harder time playing as one in Origins, but I usually play as a blood mage or an arcane warrior. Other than that I play as a Double Handed Warrior, usually a Reaver or some other scary subclass lmao.

6. Do you play through the games differently or do you make the same decisions?

In general I usually make the same choices kind of? Mostly because I can’t push myself to ally with the templars. I do edit my canons outside of the actual games, like Calliope allies with the Mages but they do end up saving the templars as well, just after they get to Skyhold. Artemaeus, my city elf who was adopted by the Dalish, sided with the mages but left the templars to fend for themselves (save for Barris who did not deserve to die). Honi, my Adaar, sided with the mages and conscripted the templars, she was pretty harsh on them but decided that both sides could benefit from coming together. In general I haven’t changed my stance on the Grey Wardens, it wasn’t their fault that Clarel had a moment of weakness in being manipulated and I couldn’t find my Inquisitors justifying anger towards them enough to banish them. With Halamshiral I can’t in any way place Celene on the throne, it’s just my personal thing. After reading Masked Empire I said nah. But if ya like her that’s cool. I don’t usually have someone drink from the Well, I considered it with Callie, but I felt that shit could go down from a Solas perspective and I was not about that angst.

7. Go to adventuring party?

1st World State: Tauriel Mahariel /Ophelia Hawke/ Calliope Lavellan

DAO: Alistair/Zevran or Leliana/Morrigan or Wynne

DA2 (When I need Anders): Anders/ Aveline/ interchangeable rogue

DA2 (When I need Fenris): Fenris/ Sebastian or Varric / Merrill

DAI (Base Game): Solas/ Sera or Cole/ Iron Bull

DAI (Hakkon): Dorian/ Iron Bull/ Sera or Cole

DAI (Descent): Vivienne/ Iron Bull/ Sera

DAI (Trespasser): Dorian /Iron Bull / Interchangeable rogue

2nd World State: Aviel Tabris / Valentyne Hawke / Honi Adaar

DAO: Alistair / Leliana or Zevran / Wynne

DA2: Anders (or Merrill)/ Isabela / Fenris (or Aveline)

DAI: Dorian (or Vivienne) / Sera / Iron Bull (or Blackwall)

3rd World State: Mah’Vir Surana / Sparrow Hawke / Artemaeus Lavellan

DAO: Zevran / Morrigan / Alistair (or Sten)

DA2: Fenris / Merrill (or Anders) / Interchangeable Rogue

DAI: Dorian (or Solas) / Cole or Sera / Cassandra

8. Which of your characters did you put the most thought into?

Calliope 100%, I put most of the thought into my first world state characters. Tauriel was the easiest to make and her canon hasn’t changed much, same with Ophelia, but all three of my heroes were well, well thought out. I’ve had four or five years of making them under my belt.

9. Favorite romance?

For angst, absolutely Solas. You can’t get much more angsty than that. Other than that my most favorite romance is Fenris’, he’s a character that I love greatly and as a sexual abuse survivor with PTSD I related to him a lot lmao.

10. Have you read any of the comics/books?

I have all of the books except for Last/First Flight (?), I’m currently reading Masked Empire. I also have the World of Thedas Volume...2? And I have the first Magekiller comic.

11. If you’ve read them, which was your favorite book?

Masked Empire for sure, it’s because I love Felassan.

12. Favorite DLC’s?

Trespasser or Jaws of Hakkon, I absolutely love the stories in both. I’m also biased towards my favorite of the series/I love killing Dragons. And Veil Quartz, I love Veil Quartz.

13. Things that annoy you?

The fandom mostly. I fucking hate some of y’all shits. I hate the lack of rep too, they did fucking great in DA2 with almost every LI being bisexual. Could have done that with DAI with the straight LI’s but, shrugs. Other than that I don’t hate it much.

14. Orlais or Ferelden?

Orlais, it has the Emerald Graves and I love big ass trees.

15. Templars or mages?

Is that even a question? Mages

16. If you have multiple characters, are they in different/parallel universes or in the same one?

I have three separate world states, and then an AU with @trans-aloth . Calliope’s has at least 25 separate oc’s in it because I’m a fucking menace. Other than that they usually stay seperate. Alexx and I combined worldstates with Cianan and Callies for that AU.

17. What did you name your pets?

I only have names for Calliopes world state pets, but I will def name the rest of the others when I play.

Tauriel: Kili (mabari)

Cassiopeia: Ser Claws (mabari)

Merielle: Howl (mabari)

Serynn: Athena (mabari)

Fen’Asha: Pluto (mabari)

Ophelia: Willoughby (mabari)

Calliope: Bones (Deepstalker) , Enasalin (Dracolisk)

18. Have you installed any mods?

I did way back when I thought my computer could handle it. Still got all of them downloaded but I play primarily on my ps4 or ps3.

19. Did your Warden want to be a Grey Warden?

Tauriel had accepted the fact that she needed to become a Warden and only was angry about it when Duncan said that it was no place for the children. She managed to convince him to let her take them however. Cassie did not want to become a Warden and fought it tooth and nail, but had nowhere else to go. Serynn had accepted it wholeheartedly, it wasn’t much of an issue. Merielle wanted to get out of the Circle but was difficult in taking the Ritual because she didn’t like the fatality rate. Fen’Asha was also in that same boat and at first saw it as another injustice.

20. Hawke’s personality?

Ophelia is a securely purple unless dealing with templars, then it’s Red through and through. Halcyon (their eldest sister) is a Red Hawke, Blue with her family, and Hero is a Blue Hawke, Red with templars.

21. Did you make matching armor for your companions in Inquistion?

Yes! I usually do! I use a gold/red/black color scheme, so it involves a lot of fucking Dragon Bone.

22. If your character could go back in time and change one thing what would it be?

Tauriel would have gone back and saved Tamlen. She would have insisted that they look for him and at the very least if they found him they would make him a Grey Warden too. If that wasn’t an option she’d make sure Evra and Krie didn’t get traumatized by the fact their father was killed by a mirror of all things.

Ophelia would go back in time and watch their mother more closely, or perhaps ask Carver not to go to the Deep Roads with them. Leandra’s death was the hardest thing they ever had to go through aside from handing Carver over to the Grey Wardens. The estate just felt so empty without Leandra.

Calliope would go back in time and save their best friend from being taken by the templars. But they also realize that things would have been vastly different or the both of them that way. And they also realize that they were pretty young when Isi was taken from the Clan, they wouldn’t have been able to do much. It’s just something that haunts them to this day.

23. Do you have any headcanons about your character(s) that go against canon?

Calliope is a mage and a warrior, SO I MEAN. Calliope’s home clan is also from Orlais and their mother is a former slave from Tevinter who then went to the Kirkwall Circle after being captured in the Free Marches.Other than that they end up with a First Enchanter that’s an oc of @trans-aloth ‘s. I also have an oc that ends up with Varric, because I have a distaste for the real life Bianca. Tauriel also ends up in a poly relationship with Cassiopeia and Alistair. Other than that, Alistair, Zevran, and several other people are trans.

24. Who did you leave in the Fade?

Stroud, all three times.

25. Favorite mount?

Dracolisk’s or any of the Harts, I love ugly boys and giant elk.

#THANK OWEN #mal writes

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elevanetheirin · 6 years

Text

Chapter 4 of A Bitter Pill

Who I am sfw,1817 words Characters: Alistair Theirin, Teagan Guerrin, Eamon Guerrin, Varric Tethras, Merra Surana

The next morning Merra woke to the sounds of a bustling palace. The previous day she’d hardly seen anyone. It had been odd to be honest, it had been eerily similar to during the Blight when most of the occupants had fled the on coming darkspawn. That morning however there was no mistaking the sounds of the servants working feverishly.

She’d just finished dressing in what had become her regular attire since walking out of the Warden keep, an altered version of the Warden mage armor. Altered enough that no one would have guessed she were a mage and no longer the Warden blue. There was a gentle knock on the door. Merra expected to see a servant standing in the door way, instead there stood Teagan, the grin split his face so wide Merra wondered if it hurt.

“Merra! Thank the Maker!” Teagan greeted her with a hug she hadn’t expected. “I am so glad you’ve come back. Alistair hasn’t been the same since he returned from seeing you at Amaranthine, and then you had disappeared. I swear to Andraste I thought he was going to run off and search for you.”

All this he’d managed to blurt out before closing the door.

“It’s nice to see you too Teagan.” Merra chuckled. The man never ceased to amaze her at how open he was and accepting compared to his brother.

The two friends sat down and caught up on how things had been. Alistair it seemed had become inconsolable and quite melancholy since she’d left him in the Anderfels. She was as surprised as Teagan had been that the King hadn’t just left, at least based on what the Arl was saying. Merra felt that she needed to explain to Teagan that she had no intention of staying indefinitely in Denerim, the man was under the illusion that she’d come to what? Be Alistair’s mistress despite having said she wouldn’t years ago? Merra wasn’t sure, although with Teagan he probably would have advocated for marriage not despite Eamon but probably to spite his older brother.

Teagan became Merra’s only confidante in her plan to cure her blight and as far as she knew he’d always kept that secret. Someone had to know, because someone was going to have to pick up the pieces of Alistair’s heart if she couldn’t find a way to make sure his life without her was a happy one.

The Palace continued to go through vast alterations over the next week. Alistair had the banners hung for the first time since he’d become King making the decision to alternate them with Grey Warden banners. It was a nice gesture but Merra shuddered every time she passed them in the halls. Alistair would always be proud of being a Warden, he never understood how much Merra despised it even though he too wanted to cure the inevitable Calling from the Blighted blood she now carried. If her theory was correct, Alistair never would have his Calling.

The cosmetic changes weren’t the only ones going on in the Denerim Palace. Merra learned that Alistair’s disposition really had been that bad while she was away. Servants were afraid of him, not that he beat them, but he yelled a lot and randomly. He would be in a mood and pass one in the hall randomly screaming at them to get to work. Most had started to avoid him all together unless they had no choice. Alistair in turned preferred to be alone and from what she could gather if he didn’t have to be sitting on the throne wearing the crown that weighed him down with despair Alistair would be found in his suite sitting at his desk staring at nothing, or sleeping.

Meanwhile the couple were nearly inseparable when Alistair wasn’t holding court, which was every day. There was always someone needing something, or wanting him to settle some dispute. He was the King after all and it was a job. Merra didn’t resent his duties, she did however now regret making him King, even if it was what was best for Ferelden it seemed to be taking its toll on Alistair.

Gone was the sweet goofy Alistair, in his place was a man who was burdened down with responsibility he’d never wanted, although visibly happier, and with a happier disposition now that she was here. Alistair wasn’t as kind as he had been. Something about him was different and Merra didn’t like it at all. She wondered often how many of those changes would have happened anyway and how many of them could be laid at her feet for the choices she had made. She loved him still, and always will, there was more to him than being the clown in all things, but she missed the Alistair she’d known.

“Just hold up a minute there Sparrow.” Varric Interrupted Merra’s story telling, “so no one had any issues with you just showing up and shacking up with the King?”

“Varric, would you let me finish? For a storyteller you certainly are bad at listening to the whole story before asking questions.” Merra laughed, she could tell Varric was getting interested in the story and now she really was worried he’d write a book.

Varric put his hands up, “Fine, you’re right continue.” He gestured with a flourish.

There were whispers among the palace’s residents. Several of the older servants made comments that later would make more sense to Merra. “He’s more like Maric than I had thought.” Or similar was often overheard. They however didn’t truly seem to mind, they preferred the King with Merra to the King without her and often told her so. There were also those who despised her and avoided her for one reason or another. She was a mage and an elf and regardless of the fact that she had helped end the recent Blight it hadn’t taken long for some people to forget that. She’d known it would happen, she just didn’t realize that 3 years after the Blight and people were already preferring she go back to the tower where she belonged, or the Alienage, anything to get her away from them.

Merra had been back in Denerim about a week when it happened. The storm could be heard from outside the gates all the way into the palace halls. Alistair was holding court, some discussion about the Alienage rebuilding, but Merra was out in the garden, which probably was why she heard it loud and clear. It’s not like Eamon was attempting in the least to keep his voice down.

“WHERE IS SHE! WHERE IS THAT ELF!” the word elf coming out like a curse.

Merra didn’t rush towards the front hall, she took her time. She’d known this was coming and she’d actually prepared for it. Eamon wasn’t the threat he saw himself to be and it was time someone put him in his place. His stomping foot falls could be heard echoing off the walls as he came towards her. He rounded the corner near his office just as she reached his door.

Eamon flung the door open and screamed at her. “Inside NOW!”

The former Arl of Redcliffe had been in the Bannorn and had apparently heard that the King of Ferelden had been spending his nights in the suite of the Hero of the Fifth Blight. A smile flitted across Merra’s face as she followed Eamon inside. Oh, this is going to be good she thought to herself.

Before the door was even closed Eamon began his rant.

“How dare you! How dare you come here and seduce Alistair. Who do you think you are? You are an elf and a mage. I will not have you destroy everything I have worked for to keep Calenhad’s descendants on the throne! You will leave and you will leave this instant. I will not have an elven WHORE...”

Merra reached for the dagger she kept on her hip, now out of habit but it was there for fighting at close range, when a darkspawn got too close, and flung it at Eamon, it stuck directly beside his hand and into the desk. The former Arl sputtered and stared at her incredulously.

“ENOUGH! First of all, Eamon”, she spit his name out like venom, “You will not speak to me like that, not now not ever. I don’t care who you think you are but it’s time you remembered your place as well as who I am.”

Shock spread across his face, he honestly looked as though he had no idea what she was talking about.

“If it were not for this ‘elven whore’ you would be dead, your son would be an abomination and Ferelden would be swallowed up by the blight while being in the throes of a civil war, and you will treat me with the respect that not only I deserve but with the respect you would treat the Divine. Or so help me Eamon you will regret it. I will have what I came here for and you cannot stop me. If you force me to leave, oh, I will leave but I will take your precious Calenhad bloodline with me and you know I can do it. I will leave you with nothing. Ferelden will be out one King and you will be standing here with all the blame on your own shoulders. Until I leave here you will not speak to me again. You will treat Alistair like you approve of this situation. As a matter of fact, you will tell him outright that you are happy I am here. If it will be better for you, you may leave until I am gone. Otherwise you will do as I have told you or I swear to the Maker, Andraste, the Creators and anyone else I will make your life miserable and Alistair and I will leave here and never look back. Do we understand each other?”

Merra didn’t even wait for a reply, she snatched her dagger out of the desk top deftly returning it to it’s sheath. She threw open the door and, in the hallway, stood Teagan. He began to clap, smiling from ear to ear. It was abundantly clear in that moment that Teagan, while respectful of Eamon, did not approve of his brothers’ beliefs.

Running footsteps proceeded the King as he came around the corner yelling, “Where is Eamon? I will not have it!”

Merra smiled at Alistair and placed a hand on his arm. “Eamon is fine now, everything will be fine Alistair. Don’t worry about it.”

Merra shook with anger and fear. She’d always been the one who’d listened and watched, rarely did she speak up the only other occasion she had found to do so was the day she’d met Loghain at the Landsmeet.

#Dragon Age #Fanfiction #Alistair Theirin #Merra Surana #Alistair x Surana #Alistair x Warden #teagan guerrin #arl eamon #Varric Tethras

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nekithamajere · 6 years

Text

OC Interview Meme: Jace Surana

I was tagged by: @space-vashoth

I tag: Whoever wants to do this

1. What is your name? Jace Surana

2. What is your real name?

Jacen Salvor. The Chantry changed my name to create a new lineage and make it harder for me to contact any existing family. I didn’t know this until recently though.

3. Do you know why you’re called that?

No. I don’t,

4. Are you single or taken? Oh sweet Maker am I taken. Leliana and I are married.

5. Do you have any abilities or powers? Well I am a mage, so yes. Mostly in elemental magic, though ice is where most of my finesse lay. Also area of effect spells. I’m what they call a ‘crafty bastard’.

6. Stop being a Mary Sue.

A Mary Sue? What is that? Is there something I’m not understanding?

7. What is your eye colour?

Unusual, though I suppose it could be because of my elven blood or my magic. A pale, pale blue...but with more *blue* to it. It’s hard to describe.

8. How about hair colour?

Blood red, though I’m afraid it’s greying out already. People used to think I dyed it but no, it’s my natural colour.

9. Have you any family members?

I have Leliana. And a mother I know about now, I suppose. And my sisters, Ira and Kallian. I adopted Ira as my sister when we were children, and we adopted Kallian shortly after we Joined.

10. Oh? And how about pets?

Maker you have no idea. Right now I am host to a litter of kittens and a litter of Mabari pups. Thankfully all the kittens have homes, and pups have managed to chose people already. I’m keeping one kitten. Her name is Max. She’s a brown tabby and she’s a little shit and I love her.

I also have my Mabari. Duncan. I haven’t used him for war yet. Mostly he serves as a service dog as well as a nursemaid to the pups and kittens. He’s the one who found the litters after all.

11. Oh that’s cool, tell me about something you don’t like.

You mean I need to narrow it down to just one thing? The Deep Roads are shit, darkspawn are shit, and nobility are shit. It’s just...eugh. Also spiders creep me out. And broodmothers....You know what, no, if I keep going we won’t move onto the next question.

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?

Sweet Maker yet. I love caring for the animals Duncan and I have rescued. I love the fact I’m giving these animals a chance they wouldn’t otherwise have. It’s stressful but rewarding.

I also love reading and collecting books. It’s comforting.

13. Ever hurt anyone before?

Yes.

14. Ever...killed anyone before?

Obviously.

15. What kind of animal are you?

Maker I don’t know. I’m not a shapeshifter like Ira. Um...if I had to pick an animal I’d like to be one of the little spoiled lapdogs in Orlais. I think I’d benefit from the pampering.

16. Name your worst habits.

Probably me not listening to people I guess? Or, I listen but I don’t give that impression. I tend to think I know what’s best, even when maybe I don’t. That’s another thing and it’s related.

17. Do you look up to anyone at all?

Duncan...the person.I didn’t know him as long as I would have. Hmm...Right now I think I admire Marcus and Meraan the most. Maybe Muriel and Isabelle as well.

18. Gay, straight, bisexual?

Biromantic asexual, not that that’s any of your business.

19. Do you go to school?

No. I suppose you could call the Circle a school, so I’ve gone to one technically.

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day?

Technically I already have for both. I’ve married Leliana, and I’ve recently heard the child I had with Morrigan has survived. Part of me wants more children, but with the risk involved with Leliana and my jobs, as well as my poor health...I wouldn’t want to do that. If I even could have another biological child.

I think we would adopt, but again with our situation, I’d say no. I’m happy to keep rescuing animals honestly.

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls?

Probably. I mean I am a Hero of Ferelden.

22. What are you most afraid of?

...disappointing people who look up to me. Wasting away on a sickbed.

23. What do you usually wear?

Shirt and pants, then usually my Warden robes overtop. If it’s cold I wear more layers. It’s dependent on the chill.

24. Do you love someone?

Leliana, obviously.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself?

When I was a toddler? Probably? What kind of question is this?

26.Well it’s not over yet!

Obviously, otherwise I would have left by now.

27. What class are you? (High, middle, or low class)

Uhmmmm....I think I’ve been part of all of them? In terms of sheer wealth I’m high class now, I think. I donate heavily, and I’m helping pay for a lot of things with the Inquisition.

28. How many friends do you have?

Too many to list them all.

29. What are your thoughts on pie?

I’m not often a huge fan of dessert pies, but I love savoury pies. I really like this steak pie they serve in Orzammar.

30. Favourite drink?

Hm...Tea, I think. Just a nice, Orlesian tea. Or cider. Apple cider is nice.

31. What’s your favourite place?

I like Valance. It’s where Leliana and I got married. There’s a lovely spot on the coast right near there that’s fantastic.

32. Are you interested in someone?

Leliana?

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy?

Not answering this.

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

I’ve swam in both. Ocean was better.

35. What’s your type?

Smart, kind, funny. I like stories too, which is convenient.

36. Any fetishes?

Again, what kind of question is this? No next one.

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive?

Really? No. Next question.

38. Camping or indoors?

Indoors. With my books, and where it’s warm.

39. Do you want the interview to end?

If you’re going to keep asking me sexual questions, yes.

40. Now it’s over!

Oh good.

#dragon age rp #Jace surana #dragon age

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october-rosehip · 5 years

Text

30 Day OC Challenge, Day 3: Inventory

Macsen shouldn't have been surprised.

They'd hurried all day, carrying their packs because it made no sense to make Bodahn run his pony cart back and forth between the Circle's docks and Redcliffe when he could fleece the Redcliffe citizenry for a few days, instead. (Macsen tried not to judge.)

Anyway, after stopping an undead uprising, discovering Jowan so badly hurt in the Arl's dungeons, drinking too many lyrium potions to deal with the constant drain on his magic, and now jogging, burdened, well into the evening to save time; Macsen felt badly prepared for doing much of anything useful. Nevertheless, he'd tried.

Paper was far too precious outside the Circle to waste it when he was too stupid from the lyrium, heartsick from everything, and exhausted from constant fighting to even spell his name correctly. He sighed, and wrapped his treasured notebooks in oilcloth. He placed them deep in his pack, surrounded by clothes. He should really just go to bed.

Macsen arranged his pack at the head of his bedroll as an improvised pillow. He stretched. His shoulders popped luxuriously. He looked over to ask if Zev still needed the light from the wisp.

Zevran leaned comfortably on one arm, regarding him.

Macsen blamed the tiredness for the fact that he hadn't felt Zevran staring. “Were you going to ask me something, Zev, or just watch me for the fun of seeing how long it took me to notice you?”

Zevran smiled. “Can I not do two things at once? Truly, I wondered what it was that you had been so studiously working on? You treat it much more carefully than you do the other notebook, which I supposed to be your journal.”

“My journal is pretty important. I've outlined my plan for the Blight in case anyone finds it who needs to... take over for me. Well, I've tried. We're sort of winging it ourselves. They'll get the gist as well as I could spell it out. But this is much more precious to me. I guess it would depend on your perspective.

“I was in trouble with the Revered Mother again. I always was. One time, she punished me by making me sort through a closet full of outdated books nobody had opened in decades, probably. In with the hymnals from the Blessed age and outdated alchemy textbooks, I found books of elvish lore. Many of them were in elvish! It took me forever to translate it. I speak it but never read it, til then. I'd never found anything more important in the library. I read them all over and over.”

Zevran's eyes widened the tiniest bit. “I can only imagine how that would feel! I suppose it might have felt like the spring monsoons falling in the desert?”

Macsen smiled at the poetic way of saying things. “If you mean my brain was thirsty, yes, just like that. I learned so much! My clan didn't have much time to teach me of elvhen things. The shemlen caught me when I was a tiny da'len. I'd take whatever I could get, now.”

“How many elves could consider such a thing a treasure? Many have had even less to do with things elvish.”

“I thought the same thing! So, I copied them all into my own hand. I made them look like diaries, then I hid them. The tower is- it's such a mess right now.” He paused to let the wave of grief crash over him a moment. It took his smile with it. “I am luckier than I deserve that they were where I left them, and unhurt. The books I put in front of them shielded them. Maybe the creators helped. I'm sure I was meant to bring this knowledge out of captor hands, to those who might not have it. I added to it, too. One of the books is every song or story or recipe or bit of craft I could get from the elves who came from the alienage raids. I can't deal with thinking that they might have been taken for nothing. What they went through is part of the elven story.”

Zevran “hmmm”ed and ran a finger over one of the strange metal studs in the unique belt he wore. “Some of these stories might be very important indeed, I would think? I do not suppose that...” The customarily confident man lost his footing. He usually looked directly into a person's eyes far more than Macsen was used to, but he looked away, now.

Macsen understood. “Do you want to read them?”

“Would you allow this? I understand if you have important plans for them, and there will be no hard feelings if not.”

“I do have plans. I meant to give the writings to my clan when I find them, but then I thought there should be more copies. It's not like Clan Surana are the only elves. So I started a second set. Anything there are two copies of, you can read without me staring over you. Actually, how's your handwriting?”

Zevran laughed. “Passable. I was not trained as a forger. Now there is some penmanship, eh?”

“Wow, I never thought of that before. Bet you're right.”

“But you... wish me to copy these for you?”

“With me. We can get them done faster that way.”

Macsen guessed he'd said something right, as Zevran shot him such a warm smile that it lit up something in Macsen's core as if someone had set a fire in the hearth.

Zevran sat up straight, evidently so he could use his hands more easily to talk. “I consider myself an Antivan first and foremost, yes? It is where I am from, and I share a culture and a history with all the other people of the land, do you see? But... my mother was Dalish. I have had little enough opportunity to learn of her or her people. She died during my birth. My first victim, as it were. So, she was not there to teach me, and who else was there to do it? I think it will be a good thing to remedy some of the gaps in my knowledge. But, if I may ask, Warden, why go to the trouble to copy everything? Why did you not take the originals? Surely, you do not think the Circle came by such things honestly?”

Macsen clenched his fists. “No. I suspect they came by them about as honestly as they came by me. Everything elvhen in that tower is stolen, I'm sure of it.”

“Then, my question stands. Why do you go to such trouble? Surely, you deserve those books more than those who did not even bother to read them?”

“Yes, I do. But I don't deserve them more than the next stolen child who might take comfort in them.”

Fang chose that moment to shove his giant doggy body through the tentflap, circle the foot of Macsen's bedroll three times, and flop immediately into contented, snoring, sleep.

“Yeah, you're right, boy,” said Macsen. He felt grateful for the massive dog hogging most of his space. He'd sleep warmer. It happened sometimes that others bribed Fang away for a night with whatever treats they could find.

Macsen looked over at Zevran. “I was going to ask before. I'm headed for sleep. Do you need the wisp for light anymore or can I send it home?”

“Haha! I am half tempted to stay up reading which is a very unusual thing for me to wish to do. But, morning will come too soon, will it not?”

“Yes, it will. Goodnight.” Macsen sent the little glowball home to the fade until the next time he should call.

They settled down to rest, but nobody's breathing changed. Fang stayed asleep, Zevran stayed awake, and Macsen's thoughts spun in circles.

“Zev?” he whispered, after a while.

“Yes, Warden?”

“Macsen. Keep trying, please. You know how the Circle is full of stolen elvhen things?”

“We spoke of this perhaps a half hour ago, yes? Alistair's shield did not crack my skull so badly as that.”

“Fair. I was just thinking about something the Circle's Quartermaster had for sale when I restocked before going in. He has a beautiful old leather belt. It's been really well cared for. The designs were elvhen, and looked like it honored Andruil, goddess of the hunt. He didn't have that before that I can recall. Maybe I'm being too harsh but it bothers me, you know? It looked so ancient, that I doubt any elf would have traded away something so historic. I think its old owner is dead, and this shemlen didn't even know what it is, really. I mean, I don't even know what it is. Someone's treasure is just in there with the potions. He wants like a hundred gold for it.”

“And this pains you?”

“Yeah, it does, very much.”

A moment passed before Zev continued. “I can understand this. I mentioned my mother, yes? I had her gloves. She was a whore in the city, working off her dead husband's debts, but she had kept that one token from her previous life. They were of traditional Dalish make, and beautiful. I treasured them, and kept them safe. When the Crows bought me, I had to keep them well hidden, for they do not allow such personal things. But, how could a child keep a secret in a house full of experts on secrecy?”

“So they found them?”

“Of course. How could they not? They were my only link to my history, but to my Master, were they any such thing?”

“No, I suppose they were just a broken rule, and a bit of coin.” Macsen rubbed the ironbark pendant that had been his mamae's.

“Just so. I suppose you know this dance?”

“I do.”

“Things like this... they are memories made solid, do you not think so?”

“That's exactly right. Oh, I'm sorry about your gloves, Zev.”

“Thank you, but it is in the past, no? And the morning is a fast approaching future.”

“True. Good night again, lethallin.”

“Buona notte.”

Macsen stared at the fabric above. Lethallin was a word for close friends; who shared a link. He hadn't thought about it before it was out of his mouth. It was true. They were the same. Macsen understood. The Circle had stolen him and kept him for itself, and he had thought it happened only to mages. But no. Zevran had also been stolen, for all he insisted he'd been paid for. It didn't sit well with Macsen. Who said the brothel had the authority to sell him? People could be owned whether they were mages or not, evidently, and possession was most of the law. Who'd argue for them when their own families didn't or couldn't stand up and say “no, this person belongs to us”? Macsen rubbed his face in tired frustration. There was nothing else for it. Their families hadn't been able to help, the Wardens were gone, the Crows were hopefully distant... who owned them now? They had be one-another's clan.

Macsen took too long getting to sleep, but the next day he felt decent, anyway. Maybe it was the lack of fighting on the road so far, he mused. Or maybe you found the energy you needed somehow. He always had.

They arrived at the Circle later that day. Macsen had no idea what to expect from the First Enchanter. It was a terrible, selfish risk coming back to the Circle for help with Connor's demon, but if Jowan killed someone- a noble!- with blood magic, he would die. Macsen could not stand that certainty.

Irving stood in the entry hall, surrounded by bloodstains in the stone, as though nothing at all were the matter. He agreed to help the possessed child, and even Greagoir said nothing about it. Maybe he realized they needed more mages, and more tranquil, immediately.

Irving invited them to stay while the mages prepared for travel and gathered the ingredients for the ritual, but Macsen had meant it when he'd said it- he would never spend another night on this island. They set off again even as the sun set.

Zevran appeared at Macsen's side several miles on from the docks. He held out a wrapped bundle.

“Hm? What is it, Zev?” Macsen felt a bit blurry round the edges. They had traveled too far, too fast.

“If you unwrap it, you will know, yes?”

Macsen did. A heavy, supple, well maintained leather belt, tooled intricately with elvhen symbols fell into his hands. “The blessings of Andruil fall upon me”, Macsen read before he fully grasped what was happening. It's even more beautiful up close, Macsen thought.

“Zev... you didn't... buy this, did you?” Macsen asked, stunned.

“Did I have a hundred gold on my person or in my things when you searched me?” Zevran laughed.

“No.... OH! Well that's all right, then.” Macsen handed it back to Zevran.

“No, I intended it for you, if you would like it. One thing the Circle has lost, for another.”

Several things happened at once. Macsen felt his face light up like a rod of fire and he found he'd turned to Zev without any conscious decision on his part, and kissed him. They were still kissing, and Macsen had no idea how that had even begun but Zev's hands felt right on his waist and...

A giggle sounded from behind them.

Dammit, Leliana.

But the world returned. It had to, once brought to mind.

And then Macsen's stomach fell.

He learned slowly, at times, but he did learn. In the Circle, Macsen had always said yes, when asked. He didn't know until later that he couldn't have said no. A yes meant nothing from someone whose no meant nothing.

I am your man, without reservation.

Zevran had offered “bedwarming” as a service provided with his vow. His no meant nothing. So his yes, the yes Macsen felt on his lips at that very moment, meant nothing. He broke away with remorse.

He knew a Trade when he saw one. In Zevran's position, Macsen would have been angling for favors, too.

He wouldn't apologize, or make it awkward. Macsen simply took a step back. “Thank you, Zev. I'll put it to good use. But I guess we should keep going.”

And so they did, until exhaustion made them stop, too late for talking. Too late for anything but a hasty meal and sleep.

Macsen sought distance from that wonderful moment. He would not take advantage of Zevran's complicated yes.

#dragon age #Macsen Surana #zevran arainai #Rosehiporiginal #zevran x warden #30 day oc challenge #long post #It really got away from me

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degenerate-perturbation · 4 years

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Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe, Oghren (Dragon Age), Justice (Dragon Age), Sigrun (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Harm, Blood Magic Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one who was shackled next to you? What do you have in common, save for the chains that bound you both?

The problem, of course, was that for what felt like a long time, it was alright.

In the months that followed, Loriel threw herself into her work, driven half by guilt and half by some unknown manic energy. If before she was aloof, she was a ghost now. The few remaining Commander’s duties which she had retained gradually slid under Yvanne’s purvey. A couple of the new recruits didn’t even seem to realize that Yvanne wasn’t the actual Warden-Commander, and seemed very confused to take orders from her, given that they’d all thought the Hero of Ferelden was supposed to be an elf.

Loriel encouraged her to stop correcting them. In response to Yvanne’s protests, she simply said, “Oh, very well. You can be acting Warden-Commander instead. Does that satisfy?”

So Yvanne was acting Warden-Commander.

There was more to do now than ever, with the Ferelden Wardens still growing. To keep track of it all, Yvanne was obliged to withdraw from much of her old daily routine, and resort to delegation. She simply had no other choice. She spent more and more time at a desk taking reports, writing letters in Loriel’s name, hearing petitions. Sometimes if she ruled against somebody, they would demand to see the actual Arlessa and hear her opinion. Every time, Yvanne would dutifully fetch her, and every time, Loriel would listen to the dispute with a glazed expression, nod understandingly, and back up Yvanne’s decision, whatever it had been. Eventually, people stopped asking to see the actual Arlessa. The actual Arlessa unnerved them, anyway, with her black, black eyes, and her too-pale skin and all the grisly stories about what she had done to save Amaranthine.

It was just as well, because the departure of Anders—and Justice with him—had as good as ripped a gaping hole in the social fabric of the Vigil’s original Wardens, and left it to rapidly unravel. It wasn’t that they weren’t friends anymore, but they were no longer a group . Yvanne still tried to keep up with their lives, to the degree she still could. Were Velanna and Nathaniel together together, or just together? How were Felsi and the nugget doing? Did Sigrun need another book? But it was getting harder and harder, and it wasn’t making her happy anymore. It just reminded her of what didn't exist anymore.

They’d come together to accomplish something, and they’d accomplished it, and now they were inevitably drifting apart. Maybe that was just the way of things.

Things didn’t change all that much between her and Loriel. They still spent a great deal of time together. They ate together. They drank a restrained glass of evening red together. They went to bed together. Oh, yes, they went to bed. Back when Yvanne was a teenager and falling into a discreet closet with anybody she could get ahold of, just because it was something to get away it, she’d thought of sex as something sort of fun but mostly uncomfortable. She’d had no idea how good it could be, with someone you really loved, when you knew so much about each other, when you had all the time you wanted to explore anything you liked.

In fact, when Yvanne thought about her life now as opposed to even a few years ago, it was so good, so much better than anything she'd had any right to hope for. It wasn’t that she was never angry or afraid, but compared to the stew of constant, helpless rage and fear—this was the dream. This was the life that she had fought so hard for.

It had all been so intense before, but maybe that was just what it was to be young. Yvanne wasn’t that much older than she’d been, but she felt old, like the main part of her life was already over. She’d had her grand romance, her heroic adventure, and now the curtain had fallen. N ow she was an actor still standing on an empty stage, unaware that the play was over, and only just now beginning to feel foolish.

And month ticked after month, until another full turn of the seasons had come and gone, and still the days piled higher.

—

Yvanne woke suddenly. She didn’t jerk awake or scream, she was too used to nightmares for that. She just slowly became aware that she was safe in her bed, still human, still sane. She groped blindly in the dark for Loriel, but found her side of the bed cold and empty. Then she remembered that she’d gone to bed alone that night, as she did more and more often. But even on the nights when she got too tired or impatient to wait for Loriel, she always came to bed later. Usually if Yvane woke in the night, as she often did, there was someone there waiting for her. But not tonight.

For a while she lay in the dark feeling her sweat cool on her skin, until she was shivering. The Keep could get quite cold. Sure, she could have simply redrawn a fire sigil under the bed, but suddenly she didn’t really want to stay under the covers. With a sigh, she got out of bed and slipped into a heavy robe, feeling the cold flagstones on her bare feet.

It was a good thing that Loriel was never difficult to find.

Yvanne groped in the dark until she found the passageway to her laboratory. She felt oddly furtive going down there alone, for a reason she couldn’t pinpoint. It felt, irrationally, like a violation.

Loriel was asleep at the desk she kept down there, head on her folded arms, snoring softly. She woke right away when Yvanne touched her shoulder.

“Hm? You’re still up?” she yawned.

“Already up, more like," Yvanne said. "You never came to bed.”

Loriel rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Not too long til dawn, I think.”

“Oh, no...I’m sorry, love. I must have lost track of time, and...fallen asleep.”

“It’s alright. I only just woke up.” She eyed her. Was it the dim light of this room—the gas lamps had long since gone out, leaving only Loriel’s fading magelight wisp to illuminate it—or were the circles under her eyes deeper than before? “You should really try to sleep in a bed more often. You look tired.”

“Why were you up, anyway?” Loriel said, and Yvanne didn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t really responded to her last comment.

“Bad dreams,” Yvanne said briefly.

“Oh?”

She recognized that tone. No getting out of it. She waved a dismissive hand. “Usually I just get back to sleep, but you weren’t there. It was cold.” And I got worried.

“Darkspawn dreams?”

Yvanne considered lying. “Yes,” she said instead.

Loriel’s brow crumpled. “They’re still bad, then?”

“Not so bad,” Yvanne said vaguely. “Still not my favorite thing in the world, but better than they used to be, during the Blight and right afterward. Mostly I’m used to them. Are you coming to bed or are you going to spend the rest of the night impressing wood grain onto your cheek?”

She snorted. “I’ll come to bed. I’m clearly too tired to get anything done tonight, anyway.”

“Good,” Yvanne said, relieved. “We can sleep in tomorrow. You look like you need it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

Yvanne rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Here, this might help a bit.” She put her hands on Loriel’s pale cheek and muttered a spell she’d known for a long time, now. A tiny wisp of a spirit came to her, and her hand glowed briefly blue against her skin.

Loriel let out a little breath. “That did help. What was it?”

“Blood-replenishing spell. Just helps along what the body does naturally.” She couldn’t help but remember. “We used to cast it on women giving birth. In Kinloch.” She shook her head, trying to dispel the memory like dusting a cobweb, but it was no good. “I used to hate doing that. Helping bring a life into this world that was just going to get sold to the Chantry. I never felt worse about being a healer.”

She trailed off. She rarely thought about Kinloch. Whenever she did, it was like she was back there, still teenaged and furious, and there was little she hated more than to feel that way.

Loriel noticed. She grabbed her hand. “Thank you for it. I do feel better. Let’s go to bed, then.”

“Right. Yeah.”

They turned to go upstairs.

Then Loriel said, “I’m going to get you out of this, you know.” She said it so low and quiet that Yvanne wasn’t sure it had even been meant for her.

“What?”

“The dreams,” Loriel said. A fey light was in her eyes. “The Blight, the Calling...all of it. I got you into this, and I’m going to get you out. I’m going to get us both out. I swear it.”

Yvanne fiddled uncomfortably with the end of one of her braids. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I do, though,” Loriel said, yawning. “I do.”

“I’ll settle for you sleeping in an actual bed with me,” Yvanne said. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll get the light.”

—

One day early in the spring a knock on her office door revealed Nathaniel. Straight-backed, proud-shouldered Nathaniel Howe, how different he was from the man she’d met (and screamed at) in the dungeons so long ago—though it hadn’t been that long, had it? Two years, going on three. Not so long at all, really, but it felt like ages.

He indulged her obvious desire for small-talk for a while, but Nathaniel Howe wasn’t a man to beat around the bush. He got right to the point—he was requesting a different posting, far from Vigil’s Keep.

“Why?” she asked, befuddled, slightly hurt, and doing a bad job of hiding it. “I mean, of course you can have whatever posting you want, but…”

He shrugged and muttered something that sounded perfectly reasonable and utterly empty, and even all her most skillful prying wasn’t enough to get anything approaching the truth out of him. All she could do was shrug and approve the transfer and sternly lecture him on the importance of regular reports, and he’d better believe that if she didn’t hear from him for too long there would be hell to pay, from her and Delilah both. Yvanne saw her more often these days. She’d left Ser Pounce-a-Lot with her months ago. It was just too damn sad to see the poor animal wandering around the Vigil without Anders there to take care of it, and she didn’t want reminders of him, anyway.

Nathaniel laughed and said he was sure there would be, and departed a few days later. It all seemed to happen so fast. Less than a week and another one of them was gone.

It was a real shame, too. Of the people Yvanne trusted most, Nathaniel was the only one with even a smidgen of leadership potential. She wanted trustworthy people in high positions of the Ferelden Warden’s command structure, and nobody else fit the bill. Velanna would have been her second choice, but the last time she'd had any authority, she’d lead her people to a grisly death. Sigrun was too much of a follower, too ready to defer and subvert herself. And Oghren was...Oghren.

Nathaniel, though—she wouldn’t have thought it when she first met him, but he would have made a fine commanding officer. She’d been hoping to make him her successor

But he was gone now.

Her first, most obvious thought was that something had happened between him and Velanna. She never had quite figured out the nature of their relationship, just that there almost definitely was some kind of relationship. Or perhaps there wasn’t, anymore. But asking Velanna was less than illuminating. Even the mention of Nathaniel in her presence was liable to send her abruptly out of the room, and the one time Yvanne risked asking her directly, she got snarled at so viciously that she didn’t feel inclined to try again.

But Velanna was going to be fine, Yvanne was pretty sure. Velanna was like the vines she used in combat—resilient, and ridiculously so. It was Sigrun that she was worried about. She couldn’t help but feel like the ex-Legionnaire was still just waiting for her chance to die.

“How are you holding up?” was Yvanne’s regular question to her.

“Oh, me? I’m fine,” Sigrun said, just as cheerful as ever. It was pretty easy to get her going. They talked about the book Sigrun was reading right now and whether it was any good (it wasn’t) and whether Yvanne should read it (she definitely should).

“But what about you?”

Yvanne stared blankly. “What about me?”

Sigrun laughed. “I mean, how are you doing? We hardly ever get to talk anymore. What with you being so busy.”

“We don’t, do we?” Yvanne sighed. “Funny how the months get away from you. I swear the whole summer passed without me noticing.”

“Haha, not me!” said Sigrun. “It’s still such a novelty to me. love watching the seasons change. My favorite is winter, when it snows.”

Yvanne remembered when summer had been a novelty. When snow was a delight, and the brilliance of autumn colors and spring flowers was a marvel unparalleled. For most of her life she had watched the seasons change from inside the tower walls.

Sigrun smiled slightly. “I really am fine, you know.”

“Wasn’t saying you weren’t,” Yvanne said, as though she hadn’t been doing a fair impression of an anxious mother hen for nearly a year now. “Just wanted to, you know. Check in.”

“Consider me checked.” And then she sighed. “I just miss them sometimes.”

A sudden, powerful wave of abject misery hit Yvanne before she could consciously stop it. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to have fought for this. How could she possibly be so ungrateful as not to want it anymore?

She had to talk to Loriel. She knew she did. But these days Loriel felt as remote and inaccessible as a high, locked tower.

And besides, it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t intolerable. Mostly, she was happy. She was.

—

“Hey—is everything alright?”

Loriel’s head hit the pillow with a thump and a weak exhale. “Sorry, love, I think I’m just tired.”

Yvanne rolled off her. “No need to be sorry.” She tried not to sound petty or passive-aggressive about it, because she wasn’t. Or at least, not about this.

Loriel propped her head up, leaning on her elbow. “I can still…”

“No, it’s fine. You’re tired.”

Loriel was often tired lately. It was no wonder. She’d lost weight—a lot of weight, and she hadn’t had much to begin with. Her ribs and pelvis and collarbone all pressed thin against increasingly papery skin. And then there were the scars.

She’d started out being quite professional about it, when she’d first gotten heavily into what was essentially blood magic research with herself as the subject. Neat incisions with minimal scarring, or none at all if Yvanne was on hand. But as time went on she cared less and less about neatness. Both her thighs were covered with little marks. Her arms, too.

It was taking it out of her, the research. Yvanne had increasingly little idea of how it was going. Loriel didn’t talk about it as much as she used to. But her eyes were getting hollower, and the scars were getting sloppier, and some days Yvanne thought she looked like she might disappear altogether.

If Yvanne thought too much about it she’d start panicking. So she tried not to think too much about it. Maker knew all her attempts to talk to Loriel about it were about as useful as a square wagon wheel.

“That spell might help. The bl—”

“I know the one.” For a moment Yvanne thought to refuse. Loriel couldn’t cast it herself; blood magic interfered too much with her connection to the Fade, made spirit healing impossible for her. Maybe if Yvanne stopped helping her, if Loriel really had to feel everything she was doing to herself...

Maybe she’d stop, clear her head. Realize that what she was doing wasn’t helping anyone.

But who was she kidding? She was a born enabler. She’d never refused Loriel a thing. Wordlessly, she cast the spell.

Loriel let out a little breath of relief. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but she didn’t exactly look healthy. “Thank you. I owe so much to you.”

“Mm.”

Yvanne got under the covers, and, realizing that actually she was also pretty tired, resolved to sleep.

“Are you alright?” Loriel said.

She wished she hadn’t asked that. “I’m just worried about you,” Yvanne mumbled.

That upset her. It always did. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Yvanne groaned and buried her head under the pillow. “Stop being sorry already. It doesn’t help.”

“You’re the one who said you were worried.” Her voice wasn’t exactly petulant, but...

“You’re the one who asked.”

Loriel hmphed. “Excuse me, then, for having perfectly reasonable concern for my wife.”

Like she was falling or that old trick. “You’re excused.”

“I can get worried too, you know.”

You don’t, though. “I know.”

They lay in silence for a while.

“Are you even still attracted to me?” Loriel whispered.

Yvanne was so surprised that she took the pillow off her head and sat up. “What?”

“Am I ugly to you?”

“Andraste’s—no, you’re not. Of course you’re not.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Loriel pulled the sheets tight across her shoulders. “I’ve changed. The way you look at me has changed.”

“Nothing’s changed. Not that, anyway.”

Loriel’s breath hitched. “I’m not an idiot, you know. It’s alright if you don’t want me anymore.”

“Stop it.”

“I’ll understand. Really, I will.”

“I said, stop it.”

Loriel fell silent.

“You are,” said Yvanne, “the most beautiful woman in the world. To me, you always will be.” She meant it. Even now. “But you’re really scaring the shit out of me lately.”

Loriel had given her that look before, lots of times, but never out of eyes so sunken.

“You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. And the blood magic…”

“I’m doing this for you.”

“Yeah? I never asked for you to.”

“You did, though,” Loriel mumbled. “Not directly. But you did. You asked in a hundred little ways.”

“You never gave me any of what I really wanted,” Yvanne shot back. “And I’ve learned to live with it, haven’t I? I still love you, don’t I? So don’t—just, don’t.”

It wasn’t fair. Never was an exaggeration. But she’d already said it and there was no taking it back.

She rolled over and pretended to be asleep, marking the end of the conversation. Loriel didn’t pursue it. In fact, she got out of bed entirely. Yvanne lay awake for—she didn’t know how long. Maybe only minutes. Maybe longer. She was sure Loriel wouldn’t come back at all, that she’d gone back down to her lab, but she did. The bed creaked and there was a brief rush of cold air and there she was again. Yvanne wrapped her arms around her and didn’t even complain about her cold feet and cold hands, and Loriel buried her face in her neck. They didn’t mention the argument in the morning, and Yvanne tried not to think about how in the morning light, Loriel looked like she’d barely slept at all.

—

Yvanne spent more time around Oghren these days.

At first she told herself it was because she was going to help him get his life together. It had never sat well with her, the easy way Loriel seemed ready to give up on a person they both considered, in his own way, a friend. You can’t treat people like projects, Loriel would say, and Yvanne would sniff. What did she know? She hardly treated anyone like anything.

But after three separate failed interventions and countless falls off the wagon even Yvanne was starting to think that Loriel might have been right about this one.

But, hell, who else was she going to reminisce with? It almost seemed perverse to reminisce with Loriel. They’d been too close. The memories they shared of the Blight bent under the weight of the memories they shared of—everything else.

It was so easy, being around Oghren. He didn’t demand a damn thing, and it was so easy to laugh around him. All Yvanne would have to do was say, “Remember the poet-tree?” and they’d both be cackling for probably longer than the quality of the joke warranted.

The drink helped, but it was still funny.

Of course she drank. What else was she going to do?

Yvanne wondered sometimes what would happen, if she just disappeared. What would happen to the Keep? After the siege, she had become like an overbearing mother to this place and its people. What had happened with Anders had only strengthened the feeling. But really, did this place even need her? If she vanished one night, the next-most senior Warden would take over—it was some fellow name Tevye, who’d gotten promoted ahead of the older Wardens on the basis of basic competence and leadership ability—and between him and the robust administrative support that Yvanne had spent so long cultivating, the Keep would probably be fine. If she stayed in bed all day, probably nothing bad would happen at all.

Oh, sure, there were still plenty for her to do. Assignments to review. Letters to send. Rotations to sign off on. But it wasn’t the same. Anyone could have done it.

That was what she got, for being such a diligent leader. She had rendered herself obsolete.

It was a cold morning, the one where she realized she knew how Oghren felt.

They played cards together, and enabled. That was one nice thing, about being a spirit healer. No hangovers.

“You know some of these days I swear I’m not even needed around here,” she hiccuped.

“Y’say that like it’s a bad thing, Warden,” he said, and took another swig.

They played cards until they no longer had the dexterity to hold them.

“Oghren,” she said, throwing her head back to stare at the dancing lights above. “Oghren, I think I’m rotting.”

He just laughed as though she'd said something painfully naive. “Warden, we’re all rotting." He topped off her tankard. "Get yer kicks in while you can, and sod the rest."

Another night, another game. They bet drinks and played to lose.

“Why does anybody love anyone, anyway?” Yvanne said, staring at her terrible hand. “You ever think about that? You ever think about why you loved Branka, or Felsi, or the kid? Makes no damn sense, does it? Maybe you just love people because they’re there, and the love is inside of you, and it needs somewhere to go. Does that make sense?”

“No,” he said, and belched. “Y’shouldn’t’a reminded me of Branka. Now I need another drink.”

“What you need is to go soak your head.” But she poured him another drink anyway. Why the hell not? Weren’t they all dying, anyway? Weren’t they dying right this second, no matter what Loriel did or didn’t do?

“That’s what’s so funny about it all,” she said out loud. “It doesn’t matter at all that she’s killing herself over this! It doesn’t matter at all. We’re all dying. Not just us Wardens, either. All of us, every single one.” She laughed. “Maybe you were right.”

“Course I’m right, Warden.” He raised his tankard. “Say the toast. Drinks don’t count if you say a toast.”

“Get your kicks in,” Yvanne toasted. “Sod the rest.”

They drank.

“Y’know what I really like about you, Oghren?” she said. It was later. She didn’t know how much later. “I can say whatever the hell I want to you, and you’re not going to remember any of it in the morning. Anything I want! Stuff I usually won’t even think. You’re such a good goddamn friend. I’m glad we met."

Oghren made a noise halfway between a grunt and a belch.

“Too right.” She stared out over her tankard. “I just don’t understand why she’s doing this to me. I’ve told her she doesn’t need to. But it’s like arguing with the sea. She says she’s doing it for me, but I don’t want it. Why can’t she see that? Why would she do this to me?”

Why, indeed? She looked at Oghren, his meaty fist clenched around a dark red bottle. He had his vice. Yvanne was well on her way to the same one. Maybe Loriel’s was a little unusual, but was it any different?

Why would she do this to me? It was the question she’d been asking over and over again in her head. It was easier to obsess over the question, after all, than to obsess over the only reasonable answer—that what Loriel was doing had nothing to do with Yvanne at all.

“I love her so much,” she hiccupped. “But I can’t remember why ‘nymore. Maybe I’m drunk, ‘n that’s why I can’t remember. But I don’t think I can remember when I’m sober, either. But I do love her. I love her so much. You know?”

If Oghren knew he didn’t say so. He was already snoring in his chair.

Yvanne started crying. It was true. She did love her, so much. And maybe when the room stopped spinning she’d go upstairs and tell her so and maybe this time it would work.

Maybe an hour later she made it, but Loriel wasn’t there, and she fell asleep alone. She felt terrible in the morning, but not for very long.

—

One night she returned to their chambers so late that Loriel was there. That hardly ever happened anymore. Most nights Yvanne waited for her, and many nights out of those she didn’t manage to wait long enough.

“Loriel! My best friend! My wife! My beloved!” She swept her into a sloppy embraced, nearly overbalancing. She leaned on her, laying her head on her shoulder. Her hair smelled like sweat, iron, and the acrid stench of intensifying reagent. “You make me so damn sad.”

Loriel steadied her. Yvanne could feel her trembling beneath her weight, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stand up.

“You’ve been drinking,” Loriel said. It was an observation.

“So what if I have?” Yvanne snorted and drew back. “What else am I going to do?”

“You know I don’t like it when you drink.”

“Yes, well,” Yvanne said, waving a hand dismissively. “You do lots of things I don’t like, too.”

She sighed. “You should have some water.”

“Spirit healer, remember? Don’t need to bother. I’m hangover-proof!” She wiggled her fingers to demonstrate. “Anything goes wrong, I can just use magic to fix it. Isn’t that what you’re counting on?”

Loriel looked like she wanted to say something, and then thought better of it.

“Listen, Lori—I’ve been thinking,” Yvanne said. She wasn’t really all that drunk. Just enough to give her the courage to say this. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Loriel eyed her, arms crossed across her belly. “What do you mean, get out of here?”

“Out of the Keep.”

“Like a vacation?”

“Sure, sure. Vacation,” Yvanne said vaguely. “Maybe one we don’t have to come back from.”

She watched Loriel’s face, which gave nothing away, not so much as a twitch.

“I mean, we’re not really even needed here, are we?” she barreled on, before Loriel could say anything. “Keep practically runs itself, at this point. We had a goal here, and we accomplished it, why stick around?”

For a bright moment it seemed as though Loriel were thinking about it. Or else it was just her imagination. “And where would we go, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” Yvanne said. “Does it matter? It can be anywhere.”

Loriel only looked at her. “I thought you wanted to stay here,” she said, in a voice much sharper than her expression belied.

“I did, but—”

“I thought you were growing your garden,” she said, cold.

“I was! And I did! And it’s grown now, it doesn’t need me anymore. Doesn’t need us.”

“Isn’t it funny,” Loriel said remotely, after a time, “how only one of us is ever happy at a time?”

“Oh, come on!” Yvanne burst out. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that you’re really happy? You’re killing yourself.”

“I am happy, in my own way,” Loriel said evenly. “I have everything I need, right here. I enjoy my work.”

Yvanne meant to argue, but Loriel cut her off. “Do not fault me because my happiness doesn’t look like yours.”

“Come on, Lori,” she said, going soft, “Wouldn’t it be nice to run away together? We never got to do that, did we?”

“Always with the running away.” Loriel set her jaw. “You’re still running away. Because of course you are. When are you going to stop?”

“It was a turn of phrase,” Yvanne said defensively. “It doesn’t have to be away. It can be towards. Towards a future.” A future where Loriel didn’t need a blood-replenishing spell every few days. A future where they could actually be a part of the world. A future where they weren't rotting in here, in anticipation of a death that hadn't come yet.

Once, the world had offered itself to her imagination. She had always revolved around Loriel, but at a distance, and no more than she revolved around her in turn. But slowly that orbit had shrunk—and the worse Loriel got, the faster it narrowed, going faster and faster, until Loriel was all she could see, all she could think about in a rising panic that threatened to swallow her whole.

And Loriel, as always, stayed put.

“Towards a future,” Loriel said skeptically. “A future you’re also going to get tired of, in a couple months time?”

“That’s not—it isn’t—”

“It is, though. It is.” No sound but the two of their mingled breaths.

Loriel went on: “You told me about the dream the Sloth demon made for you, back during Uldred’s rebellion. You said we had children, in your dream.”

“I remember.” She still dreamed of it, sometimes. That dream had been full of sunlight. Not like their shadowed chambers here.

Funny, how their world had shrunk to these four walls. This room was the only one they ever saw each other in. Yvanne had every part of it committed to memory. The velvet canopy; the linen sheets; the copper bathtub in the corner; the fireplace; the woven rug. Their home, their prison. Loriel, her home, her prison.

“But how realistic was that, really?” Loriel whispered. “Would you have gotten tired of that, too?”

Yvanne struggled for the right response, choking on the unfairness of it all. Loriel could be awfully manipulative, when she wanted to be. She didn’t fault her for it. It had kept them alive in Kinloch. But she hated when she caught Loriel doing it to her, knowing that there must have been times where she didn’t catch her.

If she could have just explained—

No. That wasn’t true, was it? No matter how much she explained, Loriel wouldn’t want to hear it. Loriel would find some way to turn it around on her.

Unpleasantly, she was reminded of Wynne.

“I’m—going to take a walk,” she said. “Clear my head.”

She went out onto a parapet. She had proposed to her here. Right there, on that spot, in the moonlight much like the moonlight tonight. It had been—nearly two years ago, now.

Do not fault me because my happiness doesn’t look like yours.

This had not occurred to her. It was hitting her now, the idea that Loriel might really be happy. That, absent any looming threats or mandatory duties, she really did prefer this life above all others. That her aloneness, her work, her magic—was enough for her. That what Yvanne experienced as loneliness, stagnation, rot—Loriel simply experienced as contentment.

Now that was a sobering thought.

After all, she thought, why were they together at all? Because they loved each other. But why did they love each other? The same reason anybody loved anybody, of course. But the two of them, specifically?

Because they had been imprisoned together.

But now the prison walls were gone. They’d destroyed them, one by one. They’d been shackled beside one another, and now they weren’t. Now they were free.

Without the prison walls pressing down on them, without the shackles binding them together—why in the Maker's name would a pair of prisoners be so foolish as to flee together?

Yvanne looked at her wedding ring, a simple golden band, the least elaborate of all her rings. Wasn’t that a shackle, too?

Some days she wished she’d been a better study at shapeshifting. At the time she’d insisted that it was simply because Morrigan was such a bad teacher, and that was true, but it wasn’t why she’d failed at it. If only she’d tried a little harder, she might have at least acquired it. And then she might have turned into a bird and taken off from this parapet, wheeled in the air for as long as she liked, and maybe never returned.

But she wasn’t a bird and she wasn’t a shapeshifter. She was Yvanne Amell, and maybe she was fickle and thoughtless and everything Wynne had called her during their last meeting—but she had chosen this home, and this person. Again and again, she had chosen them.

Her head pulsed. She really did need some water. So she went back inside to live with her choices, such as they were.

#dragon age #femslash #dragon age: awakening #amell #surana #please read my lesbian wizard fanfiction

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