#featuring zevran’s fuck boots
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Hard day 🧡
#my art#dragon age#jecilaros#zevran arainai#zevran x warden#zevran x mahariel#warden mahariel#blood cw#luv a bit of hurt and comfort#some boo-boo kisses#featuring zevran’s fuck boots#also playing with more loosely goosey lines hmm
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Partner Swap (Day 2)
Isabela x Zevran & Fenris x Fem!Hawke
Description: Smutember Day 2!!! (Just pretend it's 2 days ago it's fine) Before Zevran leaves after killing the pursuant Antivan Crows, he offers a proposition to the Champion of Kirkwall. Fenris outright refuses, but Isabela is more than ready. Hawke can’t deny her attraction to the former assassin, and she’s seen Fenris’s gaze linger on their pirate companion more than once, so she offers a proposition.
Warnings: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!) vaginal sex, fingering, oral (F and M receiving)
A/N: this is the first time I've written for Dragon Age in like... 7? 8 years? It was nice to go back to some of my fanfiction roots. But as with all of these prompts, it's mostly unedited. Just pure word spewing.
Word Count: 3876
“That depends. How much do you want to test that luck of yours?” Fenris’s gaze was that of cold steel as he stared down the Antivan elf in front of them, the sand crunching under his boots as he stepped forward possessively. Hawke huffed quietly to herself in mild frustration as her lover shot down the proposition before she’d gotten a say herself, shooting him a glance out of the corner of her eye.
Hawke was by no means unfaithful. She just grew up with a starkly different idea of what sex meant in the terms of a relationship, and she was more than a little excited to find a kindred soul in Zevran. The adrenaline of the recent fight was still pumping through her veins, and she’d be lying if she hadn’t fantasized about a few different scenarios upon being asked such a question.
“Well if you lot aren’t going to fuck him, then I suppose I will,” Isabella offered bluntly as she walked up from behind the two of them.
“Ah, Isabela! It would be my pleasure,” Zevran replied with a curt bow of his head.
The pirate rolled her eyes at his gesture. “There better be some pleasure in it for me as well, or I won’t be sticking around for long,” she chided as they began to walk away. “I’ll catch up with you all later!” she called back with a wave of her hand.
Hawke crossed her arms with a grimace, disappointed in the outcome but not wanting to show it too much on her face.
“That girl has curious standards,” Varric observed, breaking the awkward silence in the group.
Hawke shrugged her shoulders. “I can kind of see it.”
Fenris stepped in front of her, looking at her as though she’d grown a second head. “You can’t be serious?” he snapped.
“What can I say?” she retorted, gesturing to him, “I have a type.”
He snarled at that. “Don’t even think about comparing me to him. We are nothing alike.”
Hawke cocked her head to the side, holding up a fist as she started counting on her fingers. “Tall, lithe, handsome, mysterious, sharp features, puppy eyes-”
“There are no puppy eyes,” he interrupted with a bark.
Varric chuckled as he watched their spat. “She’s got you pegged there, Broody.”
Fenris’s head snapped towards him, staring daggers at the dwarf as the lyrium flared in his markings with their telltale blue glow.
Varric raised his hands defensively, slowly backing away. “Alright, alright. I’ll be over here. Let you guys work this out,” he stated, heading over to one of the newly vacant tents left by the Crows.
“Fenris, what is your problem? It’s just sex,” Hawke complained. “Two attractive people appreciating each other’s attractiveness.”
His icy stare was redirected at her as his hands balled into fists. “Just sex? So did we just have sex then?” There was a hint of betrayal in his voice that made Hawke’s heart clench.
“Of course not!” she reassured, taking his hands in hers. “You’ve always been more than that to me. You know that.”
“And what if this Crow becomes more than just sex?” he asked, his tone laced with worry as his gaze softened. Ah. There were the puppy eyes.
Hawke sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “Do you want more than sex when you look at Isabela?” She couldn’t help but snort when his eyes flashed open in defiant surprise. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring. It doesn’t bother me, you know,” she spoke softly as she brought a hand up to brush his cheek softly.
Shamed, he avoided her gaze and turned his head to the side. “Hawke, I…”
“Hey,” she stopped him as she rested her hands on his shoulders. “How about we forget all this, and…” she gave him a little wink as she nodded her head in the direction of their departed companions, “go take care of some of our more… unique desires?” She bit her lip as she stared at him, waiting for him to meet her gaze again and consider her proposal.
He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought for a moment as Hawke waited with baited breath. Blinking slowly, he finally looked back up at her.
“Just sex?” he asked, face twisting slightly as the unfamiliar concept left his lips.
Hawke nodded. “Just sex.”
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Fenris had his hand firmly clasped around Hawke’s as they strolled between the rocky outcrops towards Zevran and Isabela’s tent. It looked rather spacious, likely something akin to a commander’s tent or whatever the Antivan Crow equivalent might be. Before they had even rounded the corner towards it, his face began to heat up as he heard Isabela practically screaming Zevran’s name like a prayer.
He moved to turn around and go back whence they came. “Perhaps this was a bad ide-”
Hawke gripped his hand tighter and pulled him into her, crashing her lips to his. Instinctively, his other hand clawed at her waist and held her fast against him. The familiarness of her taste, her plush lips against his own, coupled with the sounds of the nearby lovemaking began to set a fire ablaze in his loins. He growled into her mouth and released her hand to grab the back of her head, lacing his fingers through her hair and pulling slightly. Hawke gasped against his lips as she smirked at his roughness.
“I think this was a great idea,” she teased, bringing a hand to cup his already hardening cock through his skin tight pants.
Fenris retaliated by biting her bottom lip, tugging it slightly as he angled his head to better devour her. They were so absorbed in themselves and feeling each other that they had yet to notice the moans subsiding and the flap of the tent opening next to them.
“Oh? Looks like we’re not the only ones having fun after all,” Isabela chortled as she watched the two of them.
“I’ve always been told I have a way with my lovemaking, but never did I think I could have this effect on others,” Zevran chuckled, lounging brazenly with his half hard cock out on display and Isabela’s slick decorating his face.
Fenris and Hawke snapped back to reality and pulled away from each other quickly, startled by their new voyeurs.
“Don’t stop on our account,” Zevran teased as he began to stroke himself. She stammered and struggled to say something in return, but Hawke’s eyes couldn’t help but be glued to the motions of his hand. Zevran took notice and raised a brow at the realization. “Unless you see something you like after all…?”
Meanwhile, Fenris was fighting for dear life to look Isabela in the eyes and not at her ample bosom. She chuckled and swayed her breasts back and forth, biting her lip as she gazed up at him through her long lashes as his Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp. “I think they both do, Zev.”
Hawke cleared her throat, suddenly feeling incredibly parched. “I, that is, we would like to erm… join you both?” she offered shyly. She felt herself getting weak in the knees at the sight of the assassin naked as the day he was born. “But we would like to, well,” she swallowed, gathering her thoughts, “we’d like to switch if that’s alright?”
“My dear Champion, I’m afraid I do not catch your meaning,” Zevran replied with a sly smirk as he ran the pad of his thumb across the tip of his dick.
“I would have Isabela, if you would have Hawke,” Fenris finally spoke up, now openly staring at the pirate’s chest.
“Oh! Now you are speaking my language!” Zevran chimed before gesturing at the two of them, “but you are both far too dressed for the occasion!” He stood up and strolled up to Hawke, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do not fret, my angel. I am rather skilled in the disrobing of others,” he whispered with a wink.
Hawke felt frozen in place as her eyes traced the contours of his face. Zevran chuckled as he began to unclasp the buckles and unravel the straps of her outer armor.
“So tense! This should be a time for relaxation.” He placed a kiss upon her soft lips, earning a soft whine as he copped a feel of her chest through her clothes while discarding her breastplate. He was seemingly an expert at both removing clothes as well as turning every delicate touch into a sensuous caress that sent heat straight to her core. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he continued lower, sucking on a spot behind her ear as she keened.
Fenris’s ears twitched at hearing the pleasured sounds of his lover, somehow only turned on further by them as he began to approach Isabela. She stood up in front of him, placing a hand on his chest as she ran it lazily across his body while she walked around him. Pressing herself against his back, she danced her fingers across the planes of his chest and stomach, slowly trailing them lower. Fenris groaned at the feeling of Isabela’s breasts through the thin leather of his armor. He hissed as her fingers traced the outline of his cock while her other hand began to remove his armor as well.
“Oh my, I knew you would be a big one,” Isabela giggled as her breath tickled his ear. She pulled away from him to finish removing his upper armor, whistling as the taut muscles of his chest and back were revealed to her. “Hawke! It should be a crime to keep all of this to yourself,” she chastised jokingly as she immediately began to run her hands along his body again. She followed the lines of his tattoos with her finger, and they thrummed with a gentle glow at the attention.
Breaking out of his initial fog, Fenris began to reciprocate her touch. His eyes followed his hands as he felt the smooth skin under his fingers. He pulled her in by the waist, earning a soft squeak of surprise as his lips met hers. She tasted like spiced wine and smoke, and she was definitely more experienced at kissing than Hawke was. One of his hands reached up and palmed her breast, grunting into the kiss as he felt himself strain against his trousers.
Zevran had already led Hawke back into the tent, lying her down against the bedroll as he began to roll her pants down her legs with tantalizing slowness. She braced herself up on her elbows as she watched him, entranced by the way his every movement was stoking the flames of her arousal. She knew she would be dripping even before he removed her smalls but gasped all the same as the cool breeze of the open tent blew against her sopping core.
“My,” he admired as he stared at her openly as her chest heaved, “I have had many a conquest in my time, but you are sure to be one I will think back on often.”
Hawke blushed as he hovered over her, cock hanging low just above her entrance. He stopped for a moment, pondering something as Hawke lie back in wait. His eyes darted about the spacious tent before stopping on what appeared to be a large mirror in the far corner.
“Ah, yes. That will do.”
Isabela broke away from the kiss to watch her Antivan friend as he positioned the mirror in front of himself and Hawke. “Your vanity never ceases to amaze, Zevran,” she chastised as she fell to her knees in front of Fenris.
“This is just as much for me as it is for our lovely Champion!” he retorted. “It is only fair she gets to see both my beauty as well as hers during our coupling.”
Hawke blushed as he returned to her, offering her a hand for her to sit up. She complied and he pulled her into a kiss, his hands grabbing her ass as he squeezed the ample flesh in his fingers. He opened his eyes for a moment to watch in the mirror the way his nimble fingers groped her backside.
Fenris’s eyes widened as he watched the pirate drop in front of him, watching as she began to pull his pants and smalls down in one go. His cock bent uncomfortably for a moment before bobbing free and at attention in front of her face. She hummed contently before taking him in hand, stroking him languidly as his head fell back for a moment. When her mouth enveloped the tip of him, he let out a low, throaty moan.
“My, your lover truly makes the prettiest noises,” Zevran observed as he motioned for Hawke to turn around towards the mirror.
“Wait until you hear the way he growls,” Hawke replied as she reminisced about their previous sessions. “I swear I could cum from just his voice alone,” she chuckled.
“Now that I would pay to see, my dear,” he laughed as he massaged his palms into her shoulders and back. He reached his hands around to cup her breasts, relishing in the way her breath hitched when he tugged on her nipples. His cock nestled against the curve of her ass as he began to grind into her, trailing one hand down as he teased a finger at her wetness. She whimpered in his hold, bringing a hand up around his neck as the other held fast to his wrist as he toyed with her folds. He circled two of his fingers around his clit, making her buck into his hand as he peppered kisses along her shoulder and neck.
Fenris braced a hand against Isabela’s head as she took him fully into her mouth, sucking on him with wet, sloppy sounds as she leaned her hands on his thighs. He thrust into her lightly, not wanting to gag her, but found it harder and harder to control himself as she did her best to swirl her tongue around his shaft and licked at the tip with every thrust out. His fingers threaded themselves through her hair as her bandana slipped off, and he watched as she stared up at him, enraptured as she was by the way his face contorted in pleasure.
She pulled off him suddenly with a pop, laughing at his confused expression. “As much as I’d love to swallow every last drop,” she began, noting the way his eyes darkened at her words, “I’d much rather feel every last inch of you inside of me.” She stood up, taking his hand in hers as she led him back into the tent with Zevran and Hawke.
Zevran had already lined himself up with her entrance, sliding into her as he gently pushed her back forward and encouraged her to position herself on all fours. She keened at the feeling of him stretching inside her, her arousal amplified as she watched herself in the mirror and saw the way Zevran’s jaw dropped slightly.
Isabela twisted them around as they approached the adjacent bedroll, nearly throwing Fenris to the ground on his back as she straddled on top of him. She wasted no time as she positioned herself over him, sinking down onto his cock as she let out a moan at the feeling. Fenris was speechless, brow furrowing as he instinctively placed his hands on her hips. She bounced up and down on him, breathy moans spilling out of her mouth with every thrust.
“Hawke,” she gasped out between thrusts, “I say this with all the love in my heart, but-Oh! Fenris, fuck,” she interrupted herself as he began snapping his hips up into her from below, hitting a spot that made her eyes roll back, “you are a greedy whore for keeping him all to yourself until now.”
Hawke giggled between her own whimpers as Zevran began to fuck her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirror, locking eyes with him as he grinned devilishly at her. He leaned forward, pushing her further down to the ground until her chest was flush with the blankets.
“Give me your arms, sweetheart,” he commanded, and she complied as she balanced her weight on her head and shoulders long enough to reach her arms back behind her. Zevran grabbed her wrists in his hands, pulling her towards him and using them as leverage as he began to fuck her harder. Every thrust was hitting her perfectly and she was almost certain she was seeing stars.
“Oh! Fuck! Zevran!” She couldn’t hold her voice back any longer as she began to scream his praises, her head thrown back as her hair fell in her face.
Zevran huffed with his exertions as he lost himself to the pleasure, watching in the mirror as her breasts bounced in time with the snapping of his hips.. “There are those sweet angelic noises I yearned for,” he chuckled as he picked up his pace, sweat beading on his forehead.
Fenris turned towards Hawke, watching the way her lips parted with each gasp and moan. She felt his gaze on her and glanced at him from the corners of her eyes with a love drunk smile that he couldn’t help but return.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten about me so quickly, Fenris,” Isabella chided as she braced her hands on his chest. Her breasts hung in front of his face as her ass bounced up and down with a renewed vigor.
“As if you’d ever let anyone forget about you,” he shot back as he grabbed one of her breasts in his hand and sucked her nipple into his mouth. She gasped as her pace stuttered, and he snaked his other hand between her legs to toy with her clit.
“Shit!” Isabela cursed, feeling herself getting close. Fenris felt the way her walls fluttered around him and knew he couldn’t hold on much longer either. While laving his tongue around her nipple, he adjusted the angle of his thrusts until he knew from her keening that he’d hit the right spot, hammering into it while pleasuring her clit until she was seeing stars. “Shit, fuck, shit! Fenris!” she nearly screamed his name as she came around him, her whole body shuddering as she nearly fell on top of him.
He pulled away from her chest as he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her flush to him as he pounded into her from below. Almost animalistic growls were drawn from his lips as he chased his own release, flipping them over halfway through so that she was beneath him as he continued. Isabela couldn’t help but be enamored by the way he bared his teeth in a snarl and screwed his eyes shut as he focused on the pleasure. His tattoos glowed brightly, flashing fiercely as his thrusts began to falter. He pulled out of her quickly, moving to take himself in hand until she swatted him away with her own and began stroking him fervently. His eyes flashed open as he watched her, huffing before finally cumming hard all over her stomach and tits. A rope of it landed on her lips and she licked it off, winking at him as she did so.
Zevran, never one to be shown up in acts of a sexual nature, yanked Hawke up by the arms so that she was on her knees with her arms and back flush against his chest. His thrusts never ceased and he used the new angle to capture her wrists in one hand while the other moved to rub her clit. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as he kissed and sucked marks into her skin.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as she whined and whimpered under his ministrations. “I can feel you getting close.” He looked over to Fenris who was watching her, completely enraptured by the sight of her completely losing herself on Zevran’s cock. “Would you like to assist her, my newfound friend?”
Hawke found it difficult to speak as she was left powerless and subject to his manhandling, and her head was spinning from the pleasure. Sure enough, she could feel the knot building in her core as he kept hitting her just right, but it wasn’t quite enough. She peeked through one eye just in time to see Fenris approach and he took her head in both hands, kissing her passionately as Zevran continued pounding into her. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity, shoving his tongue in her mouth as he entwined it with hers. Her moans were lost in his mouth, turned into little more than pathetic squeaks and whimpers as she neared her peak.
“Can’t let you two have all of the fun,” Isabela commented as she came up to them, maneuvering between Fenris and Hawke as she propped herself on one elbow. She shooed Zevran’s hand away before gripping Hawke’s thigh and placing her lips on the woman’s clit, earning a high pitched squeal as she bucked into Zevran behind her. The pirate chuckled as she began to suck at the bud and swirl her tongue around it, occasionally dipping her tongue low enough to lick at the shaft of Zevran’s cock as it pistoned in and out.
Zevran hissed at the added stimulation. “You are truly a minx, my dear Isabela.”
Isabela simply giggled as she continued, the vibrations sending shocks through Hawke’s body as she felt herself getting dangerously close. Fenris’s kisses grew greedier as he listened to her coming undone, bringing his hands up to cup and massage her breasts. He pulled away for a moment, pressing his forehead against hers as she bounced from the thrusts.
“Are you going to cum for us, my love?”
She opened her eyes to look into his, gasping softly at the way he looked at her, his pupils blown out with lust. All of the sensations of Zevran’s cock pounding into her walls and Isabela’s practiced lips on her clit coupled with the familiarity of Fenris’s hands and eyes on her sent her over the edge, convulsing as she cried out in ecstasy. Zevran let out a low moan before pulling out, shooting his seed onto her back as he finished moments after.
Isabela moved away just in time as Hawke collapsed onto the bedroll beneath her, completely spent. Zevran chuckled, his breathing heavy as he used a nearby rag to clean the mess off of her and Isabela both. Fenris sat cross legged next to her as he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair, and Zevran lied down next to Isabela as they all recovered from their exertions.
“Yes, I think I will definitely be thinking about this little session of ours for a while,” he chortled.
#zevran x hawke#fenris x hawke#isabela x hawke#zevran x isabela#fenris x isabela#fenris smut#zevran smut#dragon age smut#dragon age 2#da2#smutember#smutember 2022#fanfic#fanfiction#glasvera writes
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101 DRAGON AGE QUESTIONS | not accepting
for the sake of reducing the number of ooc posts i’m answering these all in one and just @ing the people who asked the questions! thank you for them all!
if you sent me one of these btw and rbed this meme yourself and i didn’t send you something, please let me know! i want to send you things back and must have missed you reblogging the meme. this includes non-mutuals.
1. How did you get into Dragon Age? | asked by @kaaras-adaar & @dreamerlavellan
Sort of by accident, actually. It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in university (2011) and summertime is generally a time of inactivity and depression because I cannot tolerate the weather here. My dad happened to own Origins and I picked it up because??? Fantasy? RPG?
Starting the game I saw you could play as a dwarf, who have been my favourites in fantasy since a child as The Hobbit is among my favourite books. Then after that I fell in love with the worldbuilding for dwarves and Gorim, my first actual Dragon Age love. I was more or less hooked after that. DA was actually not my first Bioware game, I was obsessed with Jade Empire as a kid so like Origins appealed to me immediately despite being far less fun to play than literally any other Bioware game I’ve ever played. The characters and world more than made up for it.
I beat it relatively quickly and my dad bought Dragon Age II which had come out earlier that day, actually against my suggestion because I’d heard it wasn’t good. And in this instance my dad forgetting something I said turned out for the best because I ended up enjoying DAII more in some respects. While it took me a while to join the fandom as a content producer I was a consumer and certified DA trash from then on.
2. Have you finished all three games? | asked by @kaaras-adaar
Kskjdfs yes. I’ve beaten each at least 4 times, but probably more like 8. The only thing I haven’t played are some of the Origins DLC because as much as I enjoy my replays I am so ready to be out by the end of the game (and I have the worst luck with Awakening bugs) and I also don’t have Sebastians DLC b/c his never goes on sale individually and I refuse to spend more than like $4 on him.
3. How long did it take you to finish the series? | asked by @kaaras-adaar
I honestly don’t know. I think it took me like a week to beat Inquisition without 100%ing it, I’d say my first playthroughs all probably took about that long. I tend not to do everything in my first playthrough. Like shard collecting didn’t happen until round two, etc.
7. Favorite DA:O backstory? | asked by @dreamerlavellan & @fatefaulted
I’ve played through all of them and I enjoy them all except Cousland, but my favourite is Aeducan. I enjoy the politics, the culture, the aesthetic of Orzammar. I love Gorim Saelac and the surprising amount of depth to this character who is designed to be thrown away after the prologue. I love how it ties you to the Darkspawn threat in a bigger way than any of the origins accomplish. I love how it ties you to the Orzammar plot later in the game, and playing Aeducan first is probably one reason why I adore that branch of the game. It’s a good origin that establishes its world really well and has great characters to boot.
11. Share a pic of your favorite OC from any DA game. | asked by @dreamerlavellan
I just want to share pics of my girl and Solas’ future husband.
Ian Lavellan, non-Inquisitor written by @theshirallen
Thora Cadash, dwarven Inquisitor and default Inquisitor for this blog written by... me lmao.
22. Favorite DA2 party combo? | asked by @fatefaulted
My main Hawke is a mage Hawke, so this party is horrendously imbalanced, but: Varric, Merrill, Isabela. They all just like each other and I think that’s neat. Although in act one my favourite is probably Carver, Merrill, Isabela / Varric. Unfortunately the game doesn’t want me to have a warrior in my party.
24. Favorite main-story quest from DA:I? | asked by @kaaras-adaar
It’s hard to pick between In Hushed Whispers and In Your Heart Shall Burn. I love seeing the red lyrium’d companions and the dark future of Thedas, and speculating on what happened in the intervening year. I love reflecting on what it must do for the Inquisitor to see that and have it be undone. I think it sets up the rest of the game really well, and in ways Champions of the Just doesn’t do quite as well.
In Your Heart Shall burn is a simpler quest but I think the power and emotions in the quest are so raw. Playing this the first time was riveting and I was on the edge of my seat. The triumph of closing the Breach, the strangeness of your first encounter with Cole (whose appearance at the gates is another reason I prefer IHW tbh, I think it’s more tension building than Dorian’s), Corypheus, crawling through the snow. Capping it off with The Dawn Will Come and the journey to Skyhold idk, it’s just such an emotional high point in the series that every time I replay I get goosebumps.
25. Favorite DA:I place? | asked by @fatefaulted
It’s a tie between the Frostback Basin and the Emerald Graves. I love the lore in both, as elf trash I prefer the lore in the graves especially if I can include the Din’an Hanin into that category. But the Avvar lore and Ameridan is also Very Good, and while I adore the giant trees of the graves the Frostback Basin clearly was able to have more resources poured into its design, and as a result the different sections of the map have so much more character.
A close runner-up is the Hinterlands, as I think the quests there are fun and it feels like home. I enjoy returning to it. Which is good, b/c I’ve played through it... a lot... I think loving it might be a coping mechanism, but also I love the vibe of the early game that’s best captured in the Hinterlands.
32. Favorite DLC mission overall? | asked by @fatefaulted
Trespasser is up there with Shivering Isles as my favourite DLC ever produced. Its hits every emotional beat I think it needed to hit, set up the next game with greater detail and intrigue than the initial epilogue, and I’m honestly dying to get to replay it again on Thora despite what it does to my nerves. The first time I played it I could feel my heart beating faster like wtf me.
37. Blood magic: yes or no? | asked by @hopewrought
Would I use it myself? No. Morally I think it can be reprehensible but also neutral, much like any other magic in the game. In certain characters I think even if used for good it may encourage unhealthy habits, but I think it can be learned to be engaged with in better ways.
59. Who was written really poorly? | asked by @theshirallen you can’t hide behind anon I know it was you
Oghren fucking Kondrat. When I think about the reasons Origins is my least favourite game he is among them. With Oghren there was a really good chance to portray an alcoholic abuse victim, suffering from severe mental health issues, and still mourning his wife, with the respect it deserves. Instead he just... is a gross sexist dwarf and his alcoholism is mostly played for jokes. And then he comes back in Awakening and... continues to be a gross sexist dwarf whose alcoholism is mostly played for jokes.
There could have been some really interesting stuff with Oghren, the Warrior caste of dwarves I think would suffer from issues similar to qunari warriors, where when they can no longer fill the purpose society has dictated they must serve, what then? They can’t do anything but fight. There could be comradery with Sten, or perhaps Zevran or Alistair, or any of the companions who have had the path their lives took dictated to them by societal forces they had no say in (even if they are happy with that direction). There are snippets of good stuff in here, the line “let us show them our hearts, Warden, and then show them theirs” is one of the best of the good-byes the game offers us imo. It’s a shame about what came before.
Like there are other characters, such as Sera, who I think were done dirty by their writers, but Sera at least got some growth in the DLC and there were attempts to address criticism of her character. Oghren in Awakening was just kind of a take two of an already poorly-done arc.
60. Who do you wish had been given more story? | asked by @hopewrought
I wish Briala had more, like that she had some impact on the story in universes where Gaspard isn’t crowned with her as his puppetmaster. She and the elves reappears in that but not if you reunite her with Celene or exile her, and I think it would’ve been neat. I also wish she’d had a chance to interact with Solas in some small way given how many parallels were drawn by one of his own agents during Masked Empire.
I also wish we had more about dwarves in general in 2 and Inquisition. We get some great lore in Inquisition that was set up in 2, but with our only dwarf companion being Varric, who honestly has a relationship with his race that at times is comparable to Sera’s, it pulls a few of its punches. I really think they have dwarves set up to be important players in the next game, with their architecture featuring heavily in the dev diary, buuut no dwarves to be seen. So who knows. Just give me dwarves in the next game who aren’t Varric Bioware pls. Let me kiss one maybe.
61. Favorite NPC? | asked by @kaaras-adaar
I’m not going to count advisors even though they kinda are NPCs and I’m going to answer one for each game so uhh...
Origins - Anora
DA2 - Feynriel
DA:I - Krem
Bonus - Lord Woolsley, the only unproblematic DA character
63. Best story moment? | asked by @ghilannainguideme
It’s a tie between the journey to Skyhold and the talk with Solas at the end of Trespasser and the resulting disbanding of the Inquisition (if you so choose). I really can’t separate them because I think the reason Trespasser works so well is how it calls back to the very beginning of Inquisition and that moment with Solas in the snow. It’s triumphant and sad, something’s ending, the fellowship is breaking, but you know all of you will continue to work towards a better world apart.
In DA:O I think it’d be saying good-bye before the final battle and in DA2 I think the moment where you can tell the Arishok he was right to take in the elves who killed that guardmen is good. Probably one of the reasons why I think Hawke-Arishok work so well as a protagonist-antagonist combination.
81. Favorite fanfic? | asked by @ghilannainguideme
I don’t read a lot of fanfic, actually. Save what I read on here, which I do count, but idk if other people do.
My favourite writers to read are @theshirallen, obviously. Joly wants to tweakIan’s personal quest but I think the version they have written now is still very good and you can find it here. I love reading Peace’s stuff and find their smut especially spicy in the best possible way, you can find a Merrill/f!Mahariel piece here! Gaia doesn’t write on Tumblr much these days, but she wrote a wonderful Tug/Sketch (the companions from Leliana’s Song) that you can find here.
I follow so many talented writers and I can’t list them all but here are a few I can fire off real fast: @theshirallen / @ghilannainguideme / @seahaloed / @sabraelin / @valorcorrupt / @mercysought / @hopewrought / @ofrevas / @skyheld have all moved me with their words at some point, be it in fic or rp.
82. Favorite fanart/fanartist? | asked by @ghilannainguideme
Again I just can’t choose jsdfks.
The easiest way is to just link my Solas fanart tag. Obviously this favours Solas artists, however, so also here’s a link to thedaswlw where there’s a boatload of amazing fanart all of wlw.
Of people I’m mutuals with I know @abracafockyou, @kaaras-adaar, @dalathin (currently inactive but I gotta link them), and @syntharts are all very talented artists. I’m also a big fan of destinyapostacy, nipuni, elbenherzart, starscollected (on twitter), and many more.
97. What’s your favorite DA mod? | asked by @ghilannainguideme & @hopewrought
I’ll chose one as many as I want to apparently from each game again, b/c why not?
DA:O - I have to admit I find this game hard to mod because nothing can really salvage the gameplay or look of the game. I need Better Dwarf Model so I don’t have to look at the odd dwarf proportions in the game (the women have arms for days). Mostly I have armour mods. I like Grey Wardens of Ferelden so I can match Alistair in the final batte and have everyone in uniforms in Awakening. I do like Kirkwall Exports because I can put Zevran in the robes of the notorious pirate tho. I haven’t used this mod yet but I also love this mod I retweeted this morning.
DA2 - Again, I don’t mod 2 very much. You could probably make some kind of chart for correlating my enjoyment of a game versus my urge to mod it, with the more I love a game means I want to mod it more. With 2 I enjoy the combat and overall design of the characters more so I mostly use a couple of tweaks, my favourite is Ishs Scarf for Merrill which just adds a cute blue scarf to Merrill and hides the fact that elves in this game have weirdly long necks. Oh and a mod to fix the weird hand dirt.
DA:I - Equal Opportunity Solas mod, I bought the game again on PC just to use it. Being able to play Solas/Ian for screencaps was everything tbh. Other mods I enjoy are More Banter, which while I have better luck with banter it is nice to be able to count on it. I installed it this latest pt and I have heard location comments that have never triggered before. Black Hair for Everyone has changed my life because finally Thora doesn’t have grey hair. No Dirt Buildup is also amazing, as the dirt can cause some really weird blotting on PCs that’s especially noticeable on dark-skinned Inquisitors.
99. Where would you live (Ferelden, Orlais, Free Marches etc?) | asked by @heysales
Probably Ferelden. It is fantasy England and hey if I make it past Inquisition maybe nothing will ever happen there again. Somewhere in the Free Marches might also be chill. Not Kirkwall. Maybe Starkhaven? Honestly tho I just want to live in the Frostback Basin. Have a spirit friend. Shake hands with nugs.
101. If you could meet your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor, what would you say? | asked by @dreamerlavellan
If I met Thora I’d tell her I’m proud of her. She’d be confused, but that’s ok.
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Molly!Warden vs Dragon Cultists
Molly: Oh, hey, are you Brother Genitivi?
‘Weylon’: Erm ... no, but I’m not sure where Genitivi is. I ... erm ... am very upset about it?
Molly: You lie like a cheap rug, dude. Just fess up; I’d rather not go violent here.
‘Weylon’: I have no such qualms.
Molly: If that’s true, why didn’t you attack us in the first place? Cheap. Rug.
Stabnation: *ensues*
Wynne: I believe I’ve found the real Weylon. Poor man.
Molly: I just found a book about the worship of dragons. Not sure I’m liking this idea. I remember the whole thing with Flemeth.
Alistair: Can ... all mages do that? Wynne, can you do that?
Wynne: I cannot do that, no.
Molly: Better question is whether Morrigan can do that.
Alistair: *shudder*
(At Lake Calenhad)
Sten: I ... am appreciative of your taking the time to inquire after my sword, Warden, but do we really have the time for this?
Molly: Actually, yeah. It’s on the way to the spot that got listed as Brother Genitivi’s last location anyway, and I wanted to double-check to make sure we’re on the right track.
Cultists: RAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
Molly: I’m no expert, but ... people trying to kill us indicates ‘the right track’, right?
Sten: Generally.
Molly: I mean, I’d prefer to ask them more questions but it’s hard to question someone who’s questing for your spleen, so swords for everyone.
(Approaching Haven)
Molly: I am going ... up ... a mountain. On the outside. Whose bright idea was it to make the ground vertical?
Alistair: The Maker’s, I suppose.
Molly: If I ever find myself in front of the Maker, I’m going to have so many questions for that jackass.
Haven Guard: GO AWAY! You can stop long enough to rest and resupply but then GO AWAY YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!
Molly: Ah, feels like home. Did I ever mention being homesick?
Alistair: Nooooooooo...
Molly: Good, because it would be a fucking lie.
(Haven shop)
Shopkeeper: You can’t go back there!
Molly: Dude, it reeks of blood and I have a first aid kit so--
Shopkeeper: *tries to attack Molly, unarmed and unarmoured*
That Whole Situation: *ends about as you’d expect*
Zevran: I don’t think I have seen a man so entirely composed of stupid before.
Alistair: Are we sure we had to kill him? I mean, shopkeepers probably don’t like it when you go into the back room for--
Zevran: I apologise for interrupting your generous spirit, friend Alistair, but there appears to be the corpse of a Redcliffe knight in here.
Wynne: Besides ... trying to kill someone with your bare hands for the crime of peeking into the back room is only standard practice in a very few select shops.
Zevran: I know why I knew that, fair Wynne; I would question why you know that.
Wynne: We do get to leave the Circle Tower sometimes, you know. Generally when we have ... interesting patrons.
Zevran: I sense lurid tales and have hopes that your heart is generous enough to bid you share them!
Molly: Later, okay? We’ve got cultists converging on our position. Let’s gear up with the best we’ve got. Zev; here.
Zevran: ...Antivan leather boots! How--?!?
Molly: Thank me by helping me shank my way through some cultists, okay?
Zevran: I can think of far better ways to thank you, but since you are currently deflowering our prince-in-hiding--
Alistair: ...How did--?!?
Wynne: *sigh* We sleep in tents, Alistair. Soundproofing is not a feature of canvas walls.
Zevran: You make the most interesting noises, friend Alistair--
Molly: Tease him later! Hack our way through cultists now!
Alistair: ‘Tease him later’?
Molly: Asking them to totally stop would have been a bit much, hon. Let’s go.
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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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His Beating Heart
Vampire AU - Available on AO3
***
The sun had set and finally they could prowl the street without fear of bursting into flame. The sky was overcast, a hazy grey hiding the moon and making it even darker outside. A damp chill still clung to the air from a week of rain and foggy days. London was a cold bitch in fall. Certainly, it felt cold out, but it didn’t chill the flesh or raise goosebumps on the skin, not like it did for humans. Soft, squishy, breakable humans.
“At least it’s not bloody raining,” Kallian said. People tended to stay in when it rained.
Alec brushed his thumb along the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Someone’s thirsty.” He smirked and lit a cigarette. “Want a smoke?”
“I only smoke when I’m drunk,” she reminded him.
He leaned against the wall, looking like he couldn’t give a shit about anyone else around. “And I never used to smoke at all,” Alec scoffed and inhaled deeply.
She raised a single brow. “Maybe you smoke now, but you’re still wearing a Queen t-shirt from the 80s. Haven’t changed much, have you?”
He exhaled slowly, the heady smell of tobacco hovering in the air between them. “Queen is a classic,” he argued. “Lucky for me, they’ll never go out of style. Relax and have a smoke, Blondie. It’s not like it’s going to kill you.”
“No, you already did that part for me,” she rolled her eyes, but took a long draw from offered cigarette anyway. He had a point. Want, take, enjoy.
“If you’re so thirsty why not just go to my hospital?”
“Your hospital. I don’t see your bloody name on it, yeah?”
“Most of the shares are mine, my lab, innit? I’m the one running it - they just don’t know it,” he flashed a handsome grin.
“Pfft, too easy. That’s boring.” Kallian grabbed Alec’s hand, cold like her own. “Come on, I wanna have some fun. I want a challenge.” She giggled.
“You want a fight, doll?” Alec dropped the cig on the ground and with incredible strength, forced Kallian back against the wall. “You want a struggle?” He murmured, licking a stripe up her neck. He pinned her wrists against the brick, pressed his pelvis against hers.
Her heart didn’t beat but thirst quickly turned into need and arousal. Kallian gasped, and moaned quietly. “Fuck.” She caught his lips with hers.
When Alec finally pulled away, he smiled down at her, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “So easily distracted, Blondie.”
She grabbed his hand, and playfully bit his finger before dragging him along behind her. “Your fault for being so sexy,” she flirted, impish grin on her face.
The pub across the street was starting to fill up with patrons. Busy enough that if someone went missing - and someone would go missing - no one would notice. And it backed onto a nice dark alley. Perfect.
“So what’s the plan? Want me to play cute and flirty?” It was so damn easy to lure men away like that.
“Act nervous. Try to get away from me,” Alec murmured against her ear. “Play the damsel needing saving.”
“Sounds familiar,” Kallian said. “You do love being a predator.”
“You like it,” he replied with a confident shrug. “It’s funny. A decade ago no one would have seen me as the bad guy, chatting up a pretty bird like you. You would have just been playing hard to get.”
“I do like playing on ‘male guilt’ and all that.”
Alec held the door open for her and a blast of heat and smells hit Kallian in the face.
She took a deep breath, eyes closing as if she were savouring the smell of pub food and ale. When in fact it was a richer bouquet she sampled. Blood. So rich, and overwhelming. The flirting patrons, relaxed laughter, and the drink mixing together to create a heady aroma of lust, racing heartbeats, life.
Her fangs came out. She needed to feed.
“Careful, Blondie. Don’t want the hunt to end before it begins,” Alec reminded.
Kallian swallowed roughly, fangs withdrawing into her gums again.
“Yeah, yeah.” At that, she dodged away from him, a smack to the hand trying to creep down to her bum.
There was a pool table in the middle of the bar, with a low hanging light dangling above. The balls were scattered across the table, abandoned mid-game, it looked like. Perfect place to get an audience.
Kallian sauntered over to the table, taking her time inspecting the cues for one that was in decent condition. She rolled her hips as she walked around the table, setting up to start a game. Cue in her hand, she leaned low on the table and, wiggling her hips slightly, she took aim.
Right on cue, Alec’s shadow loomed over her and he pressed his groin to her ass. “Need someone to show you how to play?”
Playing her part, Kallian stiffened, eyes going wide, and let out a nervous giggle. “I think I know how to.” She tried to slip away.
His hands gripped the table on either side of her, trapping her in a cage. “Come on doll. I’ll buy you a drink, we can play a round. I promise I’ll go easy.”
She made a loud disgusted noise and squirmed away from him “No! Go find someone else to wank off to.”
Lazy, half grin on his face, Alec threw his hands in the air. “Whoa there doll, no need to play so hard to get.” Cocky and arrogant.
Kallian could see some frowns among the crowd. Good. Now that she’d got their attention…
“Bugger off,” she said, and flipped him the bird.
She escaped to the bar, now on the lookout for someone… tasty... There was a pretty girl with freckles who was already busy chatting with a pair of friends, not a good target there. The key was someone alone, someone that no one would miss, at least not til morning.
Kallian found herself a space between a dark haired young lad and a blond who was nursing a drink alone. Her eyebrows drew together and she hunched her shoulders in, looking for all the world like the victim.
“Could I get a gin and tonic?” she said to the barman. “Actually…” She threw a look over her shoulder to search for Alec. “Maybe go light on the gin.”
“I would ask how your night is going but I have a feeling the answer will not be a good one,” said the blond man on her right.
He was pretty, brown-skinned with black tattoos curving along one side of his face, and Italian too by the accent! Jokes about garlic sprang to her mind and she smirked to herself. Garlic was fine, nothing but an old superstition. Crosses though, crosses and holy water hurt like hell and back. Back when she’d first turned, she hadn't believed it could be that bad. The shiny red cross imprint on her palm lasted a week after.
The barman set a glass in front of her and Kallian took a sip, considering her answer to this handsome stranger.
“Never a fun night when creepy blokes won’t leave you alone. Is he watching me, the lanky ginger one?”
The blond man took a sip of his own drink, a dark amber liquid on ice, and casually glanced around behind himself. “Long hair?”
Kallian nodded, glad that Alec was still playing his part.
“Yes. He is watching you as if he would like to eat you. And not in the fun way,” he chuckled dryly.
It’s not me he wants to eat.
“If he is being a nuisance, I am happy to go have a word. You’ll find I can be quite… persuasive,” he suggested. A dark glint took over his eyes when he looked again at the predatory Alec.
Just like that, she had him.
She leaned in closer to him, let the toe of her boot brush against his leg. Her mouth started to water and she could feel her fangs start to extend so she had to hold her breath and swallow as she backed away. “I wouldn’t want to start any trouble. But thanks… ?”
“Ah but where are my manners. My name is Zevran, or Zev, to my friends.”
“What brings you to London? Take it you’re not a local.”
The corner of his lips twitched up in a half smile. “What gave me away.” He chuckled wryly. “It must have been my dashing good looks, no?”
Zevran was attractive, no doubt about it. Plush lips, silky blond hair, and a gorgeous bronze complexion. Kallian smiled and leaned in, inhaling deeply. And he smelled delectable. Alec loved foreign food.
“I’d love to chat more, Zevran, but…” She let her eyes go wide as an innocent deer and furtively looked over her shoulder. “I should get out of here while he’s not looking.”
“You know, there is a back exit by the lavatories. It opens to an alley. We can make a quick escape.”
Even better. “Thank you,” she said with feeling, placing a palm on his thigh. She could feel the pulse of rushing blood. Almost now.
The chatter around the bar had grown louder, crowded enough for no one to notice them slipping away. She smirked as she turned her back to him, heading towards the red-lit exit sign down the hall. His hand was so warm on her back.
Just as he was about to open the door for her, he paused, “I did not catch your name?”
The deal was as good as done. What harm was there in allowing him this one last request. “Kallian.”
Zevran flashed a grin. “Kallian,” he said. It sounded musical on his tongue.
The emergency exit clicked shut behind them, no handle to get back in from the outside. A dead end lay to their right. And to the left, a lone figure was leaned against the wall at the only escape from the alley. The brief flash of moonlight caught his ginger hair and made his deathly pale skin shine like a ghost in the night. He stalked towards them both. The shadows playing against his angular features.
“I would not come any closer if I were you,” Zevran stood his ground. He looked back at Kallian and his confidence faltered.
She was grinning.
“What- what is this.” He took a step backwards as he glanced between them. “Ah, I see. It appears I am the fool tonight.”
“Quite a handsome lad you picked out for us, Blondie,” Alec said.
To his credit, Zevran fixed a charming smile back on his lips and said, “My, but you are a sexy and wicked couple. I’m game to play along in whatever this fantasy of yours is. I do play a prisoner quite well, you know.”
Kallian snorted. “There’s only one thing we want from you.”
“Very well then,” Zevran acquiesced. He reached into his back pocket. “Please, take what you want. Just do me one favour and try not to damage the face?”
“That won’t be an issue,” Alec said, alarmingly close and right in Zevran’s personal space. He combed fingers through his hair. “Just hold still.”
“And if I were to run,” he glanced to his right.
Kallian tilted her head as an innocent child would and smiled. “We would catch you.” Merely a statement of fact.
Zevran ducked out of Alec’s way but a pale hand immediately grabbed him around the throat and slammed him into the wall.
“It’s always more fun when they try to run.” Alec pulled the Italian against him and ran his long nose along the veins in Zevran’s neck. He inhaled deeply.
Zevran licked his lips. “Kinky. I am more than happy to be used in whatever game you are playing. In fact, I am very good with my mouth, or so I am told.”
He even wiggled his hips against Alec’s, the slut. Was he completely shameless? Kallian loved it, loved watching him.
“I play for both teams, as they say,” he continued to offer himself up.
Despite the thirst ever gnawing at her, Kallian bit her lip. Blood wasn’t the only thing she lusted after. A primal human need remained.
“And what a fun toy he could be,” Alec continued to muse aloud as he held him firm. “You know I’m a sucker for blondes, babe.” His long fingers traced the artery along Zevran’s throat.
Kallian swallowed and a thrill shot down her spine. Almost. Almost. She couldn’t wait any longer. Her fangs came out and she licked her lips. Thirst and longing, that hunger clawed at her belly. “I’d rather have your blood than your cock.”
“My wh-”
Kallian descended on him, strong as a London gust of wind and just as sharp. She gripped him by the hair and tilted his head back, her fangs pierced his neck and he yelped, struggled, trapped between their unyielding bodies. Warm blood flowed into her mouth, and what she didn’t lap up, trickled down his neck.
He whimpered, squirmed some more. “What are you - Stop! Stooop!”
Alec’s hand caressed her back and slid up her body to tangle into the roots of her hair. Zevran jerked in their grip again and she knew Alec was feeding too. She couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure at the taste, the craving sated at last, heart pumping its contents directly into her mouth.
With every thick swallow, Zevran’s struggles weakened, his protests became mere groans and his head lolled back against Alec’s shoulder.
“Mmmm. Hang on, Kal,” Alec said.
Her eyes were closed and she drank deeply, ignoring the request.
The fingers in her hair tightened and pulled hard. “I said hang on.”
“What?” she whined. She licked her lips clean.
He smirked. “I was just thinking, since he was so nice to offer himself to us, that we ought to accept. It might be fun to play a little longer, innit?” He was holding Zevran up now, the man was barely conscious.
Her eyes widened in realization. “You want to take him home!”
“Didn’t you say once that you always wished you had a pet?”
#zevran arainai#kallian tabris#alec surana#fic#kallec#zevran/surana/tabris#ot3#snarky writing#vampire au#it gets dark in the next chapter fyi#ray murata's alec surana
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The Wedding Party
Pairing: Post Solavellan, Zevran x Ashanna
Rating: E for fail sex
I wanted to add a little note to this story; I’ve had it as a WIP for quite some time and I’ve struggled with the decision to post it publicly or not because a; it’s got a lot of elements that are very personal to me specifically, and b; I’m not really completely sure I wrote it in a way that really makes it clear what Ashanna is dealing with.
Ashanna is demisexual but has no concept of this or why her sexuality is the way it is, or why she gets aroused with some people versus others at this point in her life. Since it’s a part of her growth and recovery during the post trespasser events, I just decided to go ahead and post it so I can share that part of her story. I do hope that comes through in the words that I put down!
The Wedding Party
This was the first time Ashanna had seen Leliana truly happy, she thought. At the height of her power, with her newly wedded wife in her arms, and surrounded by friends, dignitaries and favor currying nobles alike. The Divine taking a wife was one thing, but that the wife in question was none other than the Hero of Ferelden ensured that this event was one that would be talked about for ages to come, and anyone who was anybody in Thedas had likely given an arm or leg to get an invitation to the event.
In Ashanna’s case, she’d already given the arm, she mused while sipping from a flute of sparkling chilled wine. Held in her one good hand, as the beautifully decorated and gilded prosthetic was not quite up to the task of gripping such a delicate object. It hung like a stiff weight on her side, propped up on the stone wall she leaned against. Every now and then she’d adjust and it would pinch the still sensitive nerve endings of what was left of her left arm while she bit back a curse.
Stupid thing. She would have preferred to attend without it, but Josephine had practically begged her to wear it. Creators forbid the humans be confronted with the reality of what she had sacrificed on their behalf.
She had counted on Sera to keep her company, which would have caused most of the nobles to steer clear of her, but the archer had run off with Dagna and a serving maid along with an entire wheel of cheese. So she watched, alone, on the sidelines and nodded politely to the couriers who attempted to make small talk with her before moving on. Scanning the crowds, noting the pointed ears of servants and visitors alike, wondering which were working for him.
Noting down every detail of the Inquisitor’s actions during the wedding no doubt; down to the people she talked to, the color of her dress, and how much wine she had drunk that day. Whatever purpose their master had for such information, she had no idea. Was it the former circle mage that was cramming plates of truffles in their mouth, or the elven serving girl with wide eyes that kept refilling her wine glass after one sip, or the shadowy elf grinning at her from across the room?
Her eyes kept drifting to that last one, when it became clear his attention was focused on her. He was of a handsome sort she supposed, with finery that sparkled in the bright lights of the grand dais, and leather boots so polished that they shone with each step. Not subtle, if he was taking notes on her. Really, he looked like a character straight out of one of the Orlesian literature she picked up; right down to the piercing gaze and roguish smile that was turned in her direction more than once even while conversing with some foreign noble. Clearly an elf of his own fortune.
Or Fen’harel’s fortune
When she glanced back up, he was striding purposefully towards her. He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server without missing a beat, and settled next to her on the wall. He drank deeply, draining the glass before speaking.
“Imagine my surprise when I find none other than the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor of the faithful making eyes at me from across the room! Such a fierce gaze that made my blood pound and my very soul shiver in anticipation. How could I do anything other than respond to her whims?”
“And who says my whims involve you being here? ” Ashanna responded automatically between sips of wine. Josephine was likely to regret leaving her side by morning, she thought.
“You wound me, though merely say the word and I will be off in a flash. I am duty bound, however, to inform you that I saw the Duke Bachard heading your direction with a list of favors in hand. I am happy to offer my companionship to prevent such a boring tragedy,” the elf winked, and she found herself with the barest hint of a smile despite herself.
“If it pleases you,” Ashanna agreed, leaning back against the wall. Her prosthetic bumped against the marble, making a loud thunk that made her suck in a deep breath.
“I am Zevran fair lady, and I assure you it pleases me a great deal.” If he noticed the sound, he did not mention it and for that she was grateful.
“You are one of the heroes of the fifth blight,” Ashanna observed, setting her glass down. A sense of relief washed over her, along with a small flush from the compliment. “Leliana told me stories about you.”
“Oh? I do hope she did my person justice, as well as Leliana knows me I am afraid she is fond of some of my, shall we say….wild escapades.”
His eyes scanned her face. It was brief, and something that most people would not notice, but Ashanna felt his gaze sweep up her chin to her forehead as if it were a physical touch. The taste of wine was still strong on her tongue when she opened her mouth.
“Looking for something on my face, Serah?”
“Can I not admire the features of a beautiful woman? Ah, where are my manners, of course it is presumptuous of me. I was merely wondering as to why so many stories persist of your being Dalish.”
Ashanna bristled at the words, her spine stiffening as she pulled herself from the wall to lift herself up to her full height. Even reaching only to the top of his chin, the fire in her eyes made him take a step backwards.
“Ghilas banalhan. My brethren would agree with you; after all I am only the naughty First that invited the Dread Wolf into her bed, and got her vallaslin taken as punishment. It’s so utterly embarrassing for the rest of the Dalish, now that one of their own fucked the Great Betrayer and heralded Thedas into its destruction.”
She closed her mouth, head pounding as the anger faded as quickly as it had come.
Zevran paused, clearing his throat before continuing.
“I appear to have blundered this introduction quite magnificently, Inquisitor Ashanna. Might I beg your forgiveness, so we may begin this conversation again on the right foot?”
“Yes…I ah…” She let out a whoosh of breath as her face heated up as mortification began to set in. “I would blame the wine but-“
“Say no more; it is I who is to blame for my poorly chosen words, dear Inquisitor. Perhaps we could move this conversation somewhere more comfortable for you?” He indicated to one of the plush couches; unoccupied in the corner of the room. Ashanna paused, taking a moment to look the man up and down. His smile gleamed in the lights; probably practiced over years. But his eyes were soft and kind, and she nodded, accepting his offered hand.
Somehow by the time they made it to the seat, he had already wrangled a platter of fine cheeses to place between them. Their movement garnered a few curious looks, but there was so many people around to curry favor with that attention didn’t linger too long. At least, not obvious attention. She wondered if those reporting on her every move would now include her keeping company with a disarmingly flirty elf.
A smile came to her lips for the first time that night.
**
The cheese was devoured within no time at all, as were the mincemeat pastries, and then the stuffed snails. The food filled her belly and helped stave off the drunkenness that had threatened to spill over earlier, and now a mild and pleasing intoxication settled over her instead that made the stories her companion was telling her all the more entertaining, if not a tad over embellished.
Though, she wondered how many people would believe that she came across a forgotten elven goddess, or that she met a spirit of compassion turned teenage boy, or that a man bluffed his way through the Inquisition for a year pretending to be a Grey Warden.
Her head was buzzing pleasantly and laughter bubbled out of her with every quip and jest they traded, making her feel alive for the first time in...a very long time. She wasn’t sure who started it first. It might have been her knee brushing against his thigh, or his fingers lingering on her lips as he insisted she taste the small finger cakes that Val Royeaux was famous for. Her tongue flicked between his fingers to lap up the bits of frosting.
“My dear Inquisitor, are you trying to seduce me?” his voice was light, but she could see the heaviness in his gaze as he watched her. She paused, then bent her head to slowly pull his finger into her mouth and suck the remaining pieces of frosting. She released it with a pop and flashed a toothy smile.
“Yes. Are you seduced yet?”
He laughed, rich and throaty, reaching out to swipe some frosting from her chin.
“How could I not be in such charming company?”
“Then why don’t you take me to bed?”
He actually choked on his wine, but managed to recover quickly.
“You surprise me, fair lady. I have been accused of being many things, but I assure you my flirtatious nature was not meant to influence you into doing anything you may not wish to do.”
Ashanna leaned in close, lips brushing against the side of Zevran’s neck while the fingers on her good hand fiddled with the collar of his cloak.
“What I want is for you to take me away from this herd of pompous shem and fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”
He let out a string of Antivan she couldn’t understand, chuckling under his breath.
“I do very much enjoy being in the company of a woman who knows what she wants. Very well Inquisitor, shall we find a more suitable location?”
**
It did not take them long to find an empty room, as such occassions meant there were plenty of spaces for the many drunk party goers to indulge their private activities. It was Orlais, after all.
She filled the empty space between them as soon as they were in private rooms; acting before her mind could convince her otherwise. Her lips found his easily, warm and tasting of wine and sugar. He met her demands gently at first, but the press of her hand cupping his cock through his pants got the message through to him. They stumbled inelegantly to the large bed, both trying to shed layers of clothing without disengaging from each other as much as possible.
Her back hit the bed with her pants half off at the knees, and she pulled Zevran down with her. Her heart pounded and she was sweating, though surely from the heat of the moment. She distracted herself from such thoughts by pulling a pointed ear into her mouth, enjoying the breathy sigh it earned her. Zevran’s head dipped to suck the soft skin on her throat, leaving a trail of red welts down to her collarbone.
“Fuck me,” she gasped.
“All in good time, mi dulceza,” he tutted, his hands hooking into the waistband of her leggings and smallclothes to draw them all the way off her legs. There was a momentary flash of embarrassment when she realized how exposed she was, that she quickly clamped down on when he bid her legs to part.
“I would taste you, if you will allow it,” he asked, his warm hands pressing against her thighs. She trembled, then nodded.
Not that she had doubted it, but the man had technique. She exhaled sharply when his lips made contact with her, willing herself not to flinch and to just relax. But he was careful, and when his hot breath hit her inner thighs, they merely trembled in what she hoped was anticipation. It had been a while. That was it, the nervous flutter inside her could just stop already.
Experienced fingers spread her open to his touch, his upper lip just barely grazing her clit as his tongue explored the flesh beneath him. She let out a soft sound of surprise at the sensation and let her head fall back onto a plush pillow while he worked. It felt…nice and she arched into his licks, waiting for “nice” to meld into that pulsing throb that precluded her sexual arousal.
Ten minutes later, and it had yet to come. And neither would she, at this rate. She gasped, not out of pleasure but pure frustration as her hand curled into a fist against the bedding. Why couldn’t she just relax and enjoy this? She deserved to feel good after everything that happened.
She tried to think of arousing thoughts, but it was no use. Nothing about her situation was erotic enough to stimulate her despite Zevran’s best efforts.
When his licks slowed and fingers slipped out of her, she looked down to find Zevran peering at her from between her thighs.
“You seem distracted this evening. Would you like to stop?”
“No….I….” Ashanna covered her face, feeling it heat up immediately. She forced herself to sit up, pushing her hair out of her face to crawl over to Zevran. “How about I suck you instead?” She moved her hand to brush over the front of his pants.
“Inquisitor Ashanna, I…” he sucked in a deep breath and gently pulled her hand aside. “I must decline such a generous offer. I can see that your mind is now in a different place, and I have no desire to push you into something outside your comfort.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked, mortified. How many times could she possibly humiliate herself in front of one person? “I wanted us to...you know…”
“Fuck until you couldn’t remember your own name?” he suggested, lightening the mood enough for her to let out an embarrassed chuckle.
“I wanted to,” Ashanna admitted, reaching for her leggings. “I don’t know what changed.”
She sighed deeply, feeling his weight shift and hands pressing onto her back to rub soothing motions through the fabric.
“It matters not,” Zevran said gently, bidding her to lay on her stomach after she’d pulled her leggings back on. “Sometimes our best laid plans do not always go according to how we think in our head. You seem to think that I have assumptions about how this night should go, but I assure you that keeping company with such a lovely woman is more than enough for I. Now, I happen to be very good at giving massages, and I have determined that you are in great need of one. Will you permit it?”
She made a small sound of agreement and didn’t protest when his hands lifted her shirt from her upper body, carefully moving it around the heavy prosthetic to bare her back.
His hands got to work immediately and he was certainly not wrong about being good about massages; she had no idea how wound up she was until he was prodding knots and muscles that were so tense she nearly wept in relief as he dug his fingers in.
He talked to fill the space between them; telling a story of his escapades with the Crows while her body relaxed under his practiced hands. It had the intended effect; she could almost forget she was topless with what amounted to a stranger who was rubbing her back in pity because her body was too uncooperative to let her relax and enjoy herself.
At least he was as talented at it as he said, and this felt good. Her eyelids drooped as the rush of emotion drained out of her along with her tension, and the heaviness of the wine seeped into her bones.
She was dimly aware of a coverlet being pulled up on her before her mind drifted entirely into the fade
credit to @vir-ghilani for helping me work out the issues I was having with this piece, and for all the helpful feedback <3
#dragon age#fanfic#ashanna lavellan#ashanna x zevran#my writing#ashanna once again going for the 40+ elven men#post solavellan#enjoy some janky car editing
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Blooded Hands, Bleeding Hearts
How do I do this?
Pairings: Anna Hawke x Fenris, Reyna Hawke x Orsino, Garrett Hawke x Anders, Vatriel Mahariel x Zevran Arainai
Worldstate: Vatriel Mahariel is the Hero of Ferelden and Warden Commander, Garrett, Reyna and Anna Hawke are the three older siblings of Carver and Bethany Hawke with Reyna being the Champion of Kirkwall
Setting: Garrett and Anna Hawke have accompanied the Inquisitor to the siege of Adamant Fortress. This ficlet follows the party’s last moments in the Fade and the aftermath of the battle. Fenris and Anders arrive in Skyhold, seeking their respective Hawkes.
Words: 4775
Her hands are slick with red, her daggers slowly sliding out of her tightly clenched grip. The ghouls- no, the demons- whatever the corpses with the milky eyes and the black teeth are, they melt into nothing once slashed open and leave scars on her as farewell gifts. The Fade-air is thick and liquid when she breathes between strikes, clinging on the rogue’s clothes and dumping her hair.
It is not made to be breathed by creatures of flesh and blood, Anna Hawke thinks. It feels like she’s choking on honey.
“We cannot delay!” Cassandra’s voice echoes, after the last of the demons has been reduced to dust. “It knows we’re here.”
The Inquisitor scrambles closer, the little elf’s features drawn as she speaks with the warrior, casting worried stares towards the kneeling Warden ahead. She whispers and motions and the Seeker grunts. Two minutes, she issues and joins Blackwall at his rounds, circling their perimeter, their boots sloshing through the muddy, ankle-deep waters. Meanwhile, the bald mage walks to the Inquisitor and leans closer to her as if to share a thought. The wild boy with the hat- Cole- trips right behind him, tagging at his robes. Solas’ eyes have been sparkling with awe non-stop, even when they meet with the Fade horrors. Anna frowns and turns to her brother.
Garrett is at her side like always, his armor glinting under the dim green fade-light. He has been there since they fell into this pit of magic and uncertainty, guarding her back, and for a second, between the smoke and the smell of his thunderbolts scorching the stones near her feet, it feels the faintest like Kirkwall, like the life they had built with blood and sweat before being forced to flee again.
“I never thought I’d miss the smell of Darktown’s sewers yet here we are.” She gives him a tired smile and Garrett shines her one of his own, crooked and soul warming.
"Don't let Varric hear you say that." he laughs.
“I’m literally right over here, Hawke.” The dwarf rolls his eyes at them from where he had perched himself during the fight, on top a nearby rock. A fade-rock. It would not surprise Anna if it sprouted legs and began crawling around with the dwarf riding it like a mighty stead carrying him into battle.
"We will be fine.” Garrett promises, scratching at the remnants of a demon’s claws on the dark metal around his neck. “But we have to move. Soon.”
Further down the narrow path, the Warden Commander is on her knees, her elven lover’s arms around her, holding her close, holding her stable. Her own hands squeeze over her lower abdomen, paperwhite and trembling as she heaves.
"Visiting." Fenris says to the guard that stopped them underneath the Inquisition flags, right before they crossed the huge wooden doors. Behind him, a man is yelling to another guard, trying to gain access to the castle for his goat while a gilded wagon attempts to drive through the doors only to be stopped by flailing Inquisition soldiers.
Morning had already passed when he and Anders had caught the first glimpse of Skyhold from across the rocky mountain landscape, the snow on its tallest towers thick and glistening to the evening sun. The Grand Gates of the stronghold were still wide open when they reached them, letting the colorful, loud crowd of soldiers, merchants and refugees come and go under the watchful eyes of the guards.
"We were invited by Varric Tethras. Here."
The letter comes out neatly folded if not a bit worn out from use- a pretty stellar condition after having travelled half of Thedas in the chest pocket of his cloak. The other man's eyes flutter quickly over the few written lines, straight to the signature at the bottom of the page. There isn't much for him to skip and after weeks of reading it by the campfire, Fenris knows each word by heart.
Broody, it reads, I tried to convey your words to our dearest Hawke. I truly did, once. I'm sorry but for all my charms, Stabby seems to be having none of it- the answer is still no. The hiss I received must have been the shortest conversation I've have had since the Seeker ceased attempting to communicate with me with grunts. The Inquisitor says any friends of mine are welcome in Skyhold- Chipper's a good kid but unless you want your head shaved by an angry redhaired, I'd advise you against accepting any kind of invitations for this part of Thedas.
Then a scratched up line, like someone had snatched the parchment up and managed to scribble a few words before the letter was retrieved. Fenris, the big cursive letters almost screamed with her voice, you over worrying fool! We’ve talked about this. Extensively. I am a grown ass woman and I PROMISE I will roast you with red peppers if I see one lock of fucking white hair around-
These words he read every night before going to sleep. She had not written to him after reaching Skyhold. Too dangerous, too easy to get stolen and Anna never had enough patience to slap down a code instead of her bare thoughts. There was a huge smudge of inked fingertips after her scribbles and above Varric’s signature and the guard’s eyebrow raises noticeably when he reaches the part.
“Master Tethras is usually in the Main Hall this time of the day.” Fenris accepts the letter back with a nod and folds it carefully, slipping it back over his heart.
“He’s not here.”
The elf is stomping around in circles in front of the table one of the kitchen servants guided them to when they asked for Master Tethras. It is small and round, made of well polished pine wood and placed strategically in front of one of the Hall’s many fireplaces. Varric isn’t there but his papers are- stashed parchments, books, ink bottles and more pens than one single dwarf could possibly use neatly organized in one corner.
Anders, strangely, has claimed for himself the seat closer to the fireplace. He is now deftly swirling a pen between his fingers, making its short, black feather jolt and shed a little. His hood has been thrown back- leaving it on would attract more eyes than taking it off, he scoffed when Fenris grimaced. True, with the poor excuse of a beard he has grown around his chin, comically resembling Garrett’s- Fenris had tried not to snort the first time he had seen it-, his golden hair cut short and greying, the mage looks roughly ten years older and is hardly resembling the man that once set Kirkwall- and perhaps the whole of Thedas- on fire.
“You’re… feigning calmness.” Fenris side eyes him. Anders had been restless during their ride through Ferelden, pushing his horse forward to lengths he usually wouldn’t try to reach, spending nights awake and staring at the fire flakes as they rose towards the night sky. Now, he sits idly back on the chair, seemingly relaxed. Yet, after a second, more careful glance, it is obvious that he’s doing a shitty job at concealing it- the mage’s shoulders are visibly stiff and his features drawn, lips pressed together as he keeps his eyes squarely on the pen.
“It’s called keeping a low profile.” he murmurs, stealing a glance around the main hall. People had stared for a bit when they had first entered but visitors are nothing new for Skyhold and after an hour, they now are as good as another piece of decoration. “They’re in an emergency meeting and since you didn’t want to give your name and we can’t quite give mine, we weren’t even announced. No one's going to come running out of there to meet us any time soon.”
Fenris lets out a groan. They are so close, this waiting is killing him. The rumours have been bad but the uncertainty they carried is the worst of it all and the elf can feel himself almost vibrating where he stands, his hands flexing from and into fists at his sides.
The Champion of Kirkwall has fallen. Hawke is dead.
Both Anders and him had walked the long way to the Inquisition’s stronghold with one thought tormenting them every passing hour.
Which Hawke?
The ‘Champion of Kirkwall’ had been left as an open term on purpose, for safety, and they had all agreed to it. It was once the title Reyna Hawke carried, her legacy from almost being impaled on the Arishok’s spear during what now was one of the most widely known duels in Thedas. Yet even in the very city of Kirkwall, the title had been changing hands from one day to the other- after all, there were three Hawkes with exceptional abilities and where Reyna would clean a street in Hightown from thieves, Anna would locate someone’s lost kid the next day and both deeds would be deemed as done by the Champion. When they fled, rumor mingled with gossip and the Tale of the Champion, expertly written as to not give out much about the Champion’s family, had obscured the fact that there were more Hawkes running around Thedas than anyone could ever handle.
But Reyna never set foot in Skyhold, both of them are sure about that. The last letter that had arrived with her sand colored hawk barely a month ago spoke of Antiva and a small, sunny room rented near the Port. It spoke of the sudden decline of Orsino’s health and her reluctant- yeah, right, Anna had laughed- decision to aid the elder mage until he overcame his illness. Thus, only two Hawkes had ever arrived at Skyhold, no matter how strongly Fenris had opposed to the idea when Anna had come to him to talk. And now, someone is supposedly dead and he can feel his chest hurt every time he catches himself wishing that it isn’t her.
He scans the grand hall around him. Dust is dancing in the sunlight pouring in from the huge glass windows, swirling over the lit torches lining its walls. An elf in scout armor is walking their way and he takes a step to the side, placing himself in her path.
“Serah.” he calls. She blinks his way, one of her ears twitching over short, red hair. He gives her a second for the usual quick scan of his face. Her eyes widen the slightest to his tattoos and Fenris asks.
“Where to the Ambassador’s room?”
“What are you planning to do?” Anders is on his feet and following him closely as Fenris walks with long, sure strides across the Hall.
“I’m going to announce myself.”
“It’s impossible to outrun that!”
There’s blood running down Cassandra’s forehead as she yells, her eyes stuck up and glinting dangerously under the green Fade fires. The smell of sulfur is on the air, burning their noses, the hissing of raw Fade energy hissing at the edges of their hair, remains of the recent battle against the Nightmare.
“Go!” comes a hoarse order from behind their backs, “I’ll keep it busy.”
“Have you gone insane?!” Anna has never heard Zevran’s voice ring as thickly and ominously as right now. He grabs the Warden Commander’s arm when she swirls around, his fingers closing in what looks like a death grip. “We’re going.” he growls at her.
“Since when are you making my decisions for me, Zevran?” she hisses back, trying to shake his hand off but the muscles on the Crow’s arm flex and he tags her closer instead, her boots splashing through the murky waters. She glares daggers at him and he shakes his head.
“Since you, my dear Warden, seem to have lost your good judgement.”
“This is NOT the time for this!” Cassandra howls at the same time as a bellow crashes into their ears- the demon is recovering and it will soon be coming for them.
“Knives and fire and steel that cuts, too real, too solid, permanent, burning! Gut them, burn them, chain them up and drink them dry!” Cole wails and then doubles down and holds his head, grunting in pain. The Inquisitor rubs a comforting hand down his back.
“I can give you at least five.” Mahariel insists. “Run and you’ll make it. I have fought uglier things that this in the past.”
“Andraste’s flaming underpants, Vatriel-”
Thunder booms behind them and Anna jumps.
“If you could hurry it up a bit, thank you very much.” Garrett huffs from their rear guard. He raises his arms above his head and lets lightning rain down upon the few demons that have found the courage to slither through the scorched battleground from before and come after them. “I mean it’s not like we have a giant spider coming for our sorry asses here or anything. I can handle this, sure.”
Anna turns around, teeth tearing at her lips as she adjusts the grip on her carved knives. Her muscles still feel sore from their recent fights as she steps towards the demons, melting into the shadows. All she wants is warm food and cold beer and to put her feet up in front of a fireplace without something being out for her neck.
“Go back. To being. Fucking mist.” she hisses as she plunges a dagger deep enough into a ghoul’s eye, it sinks to the hilt. An arrow zooms by her ear as Varric falls into work alongside them.
“I can put up a shield.” she hears the Inquisitor’s voice. “It can hold for a while until you all get out of here and I’m a fast runner-”
“Not open for discussion.” the Seeker cuts her and Lavellan groans.
“Cassandra-”
“A barrier could indeed be held for longer than usual here in the Fade.” Solas offers. “But to risk sacrificing you would be ill adviced if not mindless.”
“This is the Wardens’ fault, all of it.” The Commander’s voice sounds adamant. “No, Zevran. This is MY responsibility.
“It is not even just YOU that would have to stay back anymore!” the Antivan snaps. Anna throws her dagger to a nearby crawling spiderling. It hits it square between its open jaws and it evaporates with a screech. “Good riddance, you freaky nug.” Garrett laughs. “Good one, kid.”
“Sir? Sir, please! You cannot go in there!”
Josephine finds herself at a loss when the strangers first storm right through her doors. She has no meeting arranged for the next three hours and the Council is not yet done. She had briefly returned to her desk to fetch a couple of official documents when the door had swung open, smooth on well oiled hinges. It hits the wall behind it with a bang, making her jump and sending several of the parchments she had been carrying to the floor.
“This area is off limits!” she states now, sharpening her tone and stepping forward to quickly slip her body in between the unknown pair of men that rushes inside and the inner door that leads to the War Room. A flutter of her eyes and the scout that had arrived seconds earlier to deliver a report quietly excuses himself back to the Hall. Hopefully the guards will be here soon enough. “You can’t just barge in here like this, gentlemen, please. We can talk this out.”
“Apologies, Serah,” the elf at the front stops a few steps away from her and speaks, looking her square in the eyes, “but we have come to see the Hawke siblings.”
His pupils are big, expressive and brightly green, mesmerizing as he firmly holds her gaze, and Josephine gives him a quick appraisal now that he is finally standing still instead of marching towards her.
“I’m afraid the Council is private-” she begins.
And then she sees them, where they’re poking from his scarf, around his neck and up his chin, the white tattoos with the faint blue iridescence that curl against dark skin. The ambassador knows better than to let her surprise show- she lets the initial rush of adrenaline of having this very elf right in front of her, here in Skyhold, pass. The man behind him shifts on his feet and Josephine eyes him carefully. He is wearing a hood that partially hid his face but she can make out the tiniest hint of blonde. She inhales sharply- if that is who she thinks he is, Cassandra won’t be happy at all.
Then comes dread- they are here for a reason. They are here for Hawke.
“Serah Fenris. Serah.” she motions towards the chairs of her office. “If you have a minute.”
“Go!”
Varric’s face is a mess of pain, loss and bitter understanding. “Garrett.” he croaks.
“The woman is with child, Varric.” The tall man rolls his staff in his hands before looking up, clear blue eyes meeting with the deep green of the Warden Commander. “And who’s better suited to fight in the Fade than a mage?”
“My brother,” he says loudly for her to hear, “he’s a Warden. If you meet Carver Hawke, let him know that his brother was very proud of him. Tell him his brother loved him, dearly, deeply, always.”
“That should embarrass him out of his grief pretty quickly.” he chuckles.
“No! Garrett!” Anna lunges herself at him, a hand grasping his wrist, the other one closing into a fist around the fabric of his garments. “This is bullshit!” she roars. “You’re not staying here! I’m not leaving you in this hell!”
She glares at him and Garrett gives her a small, weary smile- his free hand finds its way to her cheek and cups it softly- he smells of blood and sweat and ash but so does she and it’s a familiar smell.
“There’s no other way.” His voice is soft. “We will never outrun the Nightmare.”
She can feel a lump forming in her throat, the familiar pressure behind her eyes. She grits her teeth instead and shakes her head violently, scanning the area around them. They can hide, they can split up and try to confuse it, she can knife the demon in its blasted, cursed eyes-
His hand, still warm on her cheek, tags gently, guiding her eyes back on his face, keeping them there. Garrett’s cheeks and forehead are smeared with black and his lower lip sports a blood red cut- his breathing is hitched but he’s smiling softly at her and the rogue feels her chest constrict.
“There’s no other way, Anna.” he breathes. His forehead comes to meet with hers and her hands let go of everything to come cup his temples, her fingers hooking into his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it came to this. You’ll have to explain to Reyna, Bethany… to Anders-”
“I’m staying.” Her voice is ragged, her lips dry. “If you’re staying, I’ll be with you to the end.”
“Anna…”
“No, no!” she hisses. “You get to throw your life away but I can’t do the same for you? I’m staying, Garrett. You are my- I’m not going, I’m not losing you.”
Varric’s voice is hoarse behind her. “Kid…”
“Varric.” Her heart is fluttering like a caged bird now- her body trembles in the thought of what’s to come and then steels, warms up and tightens as she turns to face the dwarf. She didn’t come seeking death but leaving Garrett behind feels like a death in its own and she won’t have it. In a corner of her mind, somewhere, a small voice whispers- maybe with the two of us, we can win, we can make it, the two of us, together.
“You have to write to him.” she tells the dwarf. “Fenris. Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I love him, now and forever.”
Varric’s face twists into a mass of pain to her words, his knuckles turning white where he holds Bianca. “Kid,” he shakes his head, “not like this.”
Something explodes in the distant and the ground underneath their feet shakes, the rumbling that echoes through the air growing louder instead of dying down. Anna unsheathes her knives as Blackwall lets out a war cry.
“We don’t have any more time!” he yells. “We have to leave. NOW!”
“And so, we’re out of time.” Garrett huffs.
“Wha-”
She turns- and then her limbs suddenly feel heavy, getting glued into place with every muscle that she tries to move.
“Garrett!’ she croaks bewildered. “Garrett, what-”
His hand is pointing towards her, lit with arcane energy and deep lines form on his forehead as she stares at him. Light pillars flicker around her and that’s when she realises the spell being cast on her.
“Spirit Cage?” she shouts. “Spirit Cage, on ME? Garrett! Let me go! Let me go right now!”
“Varric!” her brother yells instead. “Blackwall! Get her out of here, NOW!”
“No! NO!” The men’s hands are on her shoulders then, around her waist, pulling her, dragging her with them and Anna struggles against the invisible ropes that keep her arms from pushing them away, her legs from kicking. She’s being carried away and for every second passing, Garrett’s getting further away as he flexes his arms and firmly grabs his staff.
“Garrett!” she screams. People are yelling around her as they run. Blackwall is grunting under her weight and Zevran’s voice is encouraging his wife forwards from somewhere at the head of the line but all Anna can see is the tall man they’re leaving behind, the glinting of the ice blue gem of his staff, like a beacon in a sea of green.
“GARRETT, NO! NOT LIKE THIS! GARRETT!” Her throat feels like being teared up from the inside out. “GARRETT!”
At the distance, her brother looks back one last time and his voice carries over the ominous rumble when he yells.
“I love you.”
The words reach her just as the monstrous demon breaks through the hill hiding them from its view all this time. It comes with its million legs thrashing and an explosion of flying rocks and fire and Garrett turns to face it, small in the distance and with his armor shining with swirling mana.
She doesn’t feel remorse when the spell loosens and she beats against Blackwall’s helmet with all the strength she can find in her, when she kicks Varric in the shoulder while trying to break free. She doesn’t see the rift’s edges when they jump through it and crash against hard stone, knees and elbows bleeding as they scrape against the floor.
She only keeps on screaming as she’s held back from jumping back in, someone’s arms around her own, Varric’s hands against her chest as the Inquisitor stands and waits for a heartbeat and then for some more and when no one comes through, she finally raises her hand and blinding green flashes.
She screams harder than ever when he can’t hear her anymore.
“… Kid?”
Anna jumps, knocking down one of the flags the Inquisition advisors use to pinpoint missions on their map.
“Shit.” she mutters and reaches down. The damned thing has rolled further down the war table and she gets on her knees to get it. “Fuck.” she repeats. “Sorry.”
She straightens back up and catches the Inquisitor stealing a glance at her. Lavellan’s eyes are clouded but she averts them fast when Anna stares back and turns to where Leliana and Cullen are bickering.
“You ok?”
Varric usually doesn’t participate in Council meetings- a case has come up deeply connected to Kirkwall though and his presence has been requested. He has not taken the task with joy but he has come nonetheless. Anna knows he is here mostly for her. He has been trying to be in her immediate perimeter ever since they returned from Adamant Fortress.
She wishes he didn’t.
“Are you?” she rumbles.
Pain flashes across the dwarf’s face and the rogue feels the sting of her words coming right back at her.
“Damn it, Varric.” she sighs. “Sorry. I… don’t- this… it’s difficult.”
“I know.” He scratches his chin, absentmindedly staring at the advisors and the Inquisitor trying to find some middle ground over a mission. “Believe me, Kid, I know.”
“Did you write? To everyone.”
He shakes his head.
“The words won’t come.”
How do you write about something that doesn’t feel real? Several days have passed and still, whenever she manages to make herself faint, late at night, she wakes up the next morning with a few blissful seconds where everything feel like just another dream. Where Garrett bangs on her door with plates full of pancakes. Where Dog and her are a warm mess on her bed, the mabari drooling on her hair. And then, Garrett never comes and Dog is old and a world away from her, with the other half of her heart, and she has to truly wake up and keep on going, living, in a world with muted colors.
She has to write to Fenris, to let him know that she is alive, that she is ok. She knows but her fingers refuse to ink the words and the parchment is waiting half empty on her desk.
“What is taking Josephine so long?” Leliana wonders from the other side of the table. “It has been ten minutes already.”
“I should go check.” the Inquisitor turns. “Maybe she needs some help.”
There it is, a window out of this room, away from talks for future expeditions- all she wants at the moment and so Anna sets the little flag back on the table. “Let me. I could use some fresh air.”
“Ask her to bring all recent correspondence with Duke Dumont, yes?”
“No, not you, Varric.” Cullen calls when the dwarf motions to follow her to the door. “We just got to the requests from Kirkwall, we need your assistance.”
Varric shrugs, gives her a strained look and drags himself back to the war table, looking not pleased at all. Anna on the other hand rather prefers this turn of events- he is so stricken with grief and she can’t deal with this right now. She needs space.
“Later, Varric.” she waves, letting the doors close behind her.
She is glad no one has fixed the hole in the wall between the war room and Josephine’s office. She gives herself a second to stand before it, letting the setting sunlight blind her eyes and the breeze caress her face. It almost feels like a touch across her cheek.
“Josephine?” she calls, pushing down the handle to the dark door leading to the ambassador’s office. “Leliana is looking for you- oh, visitors. Excuse me-”
One of the men standing over Josephine’s desk is covered from head to toes, a dark cloak around thin shoulders and his head hidden underneath a hood. He is hunched over the various papers and talking to the ambassador with a low voice- tension is radiating from where his hands have clutched the rim of her desk, bony fingers white from his tight grip.
It feels fishy and she discreetly moves one hand to the dagger at her waist. The man standing next to him, clothed in similar travelling clothes and with white hair caught into a tight ponytail, turns sharply the moment her voice rings across the room.
Anna takes it all in at once, in a moment- the green of his wide eyes, the arch of his nose. The red ribbon keeping his hair in place. The glint of sharp teeth when he opens his mouth.
“Fenris?” she manages before going airborne, strong arms closing around her waist and burning hot lips crashing onto her own and he breathes his next word right into their kiss.
“Anna!” he growls. “Anna, Anna, Anna!”
Her own hands find his back instinctively, nails digging in and holding on to him desperately- the kiss is long and fiery, an explosion of colors and rapid hearbeats and for a glorious moment, she forgets everything that isn’t him. It leaves her heaving for air when he finally puts some space between their faces, both of them breathing hard into each other’s arms.
“You’re here.” Fenris whispers feverently, one hand reaching up to smooth her hair, guiding her head to rest against his neck. “You’re here, you’re safe.”
The rogue nods, her throat blocked for a moment. She can smell the road on him, the dust and the horse hair and underneath all that, his aroma that reminds her of nights under the sheets and warm arms around her back. Her eyes burn and she pushes against his chest a bit- she wants to see his eyes again, his face, him.
“How?” she croaks once words finally seem to return as an option of response. “What are you doing here?”
Fenris’ expression clouds to her question and his eyebrows lower menacingly over his eyes, a hint of anger finding its way to his now tightly pursed lips, to the sharp line of his jaw. His hand finds the side of her neck and squeezes firmly.
“What was I doing away from here is the right question. We heard the rumours, Anna. I thought you were dead!”
“I’m not dead.” she shakes her head. “I’m not…”
We?
“Anna?”
She freezes. It is the voice she dreaded to hear. Not here, not yet. She is not ready for this.
She looks behind Fenris, where the cloaked stranger has let his hood fall back over his shoulders. Golden hair shine under the last sun rays and she spots the red scarf around his neck.
“Where is Garrett?” asks Anders.
@forthelifeofoneburglar, @notyourinquisitormate, it’s been a while so here it is again. I’m almost done with the second part so I thought I should remind you you should reread it before the next assault of angst.
#look I wrote a thing#hawke#garrett#garrett hawke#anna#anna hawke#reyna#reyna hawke#anders#fenris#dragon age#dragon age inquisition#da#da:i#put a read more cause it's huge#tell me what you think#long post
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Zevwarden Week Day 3: Fancy Dress
Staring at kohl lined eyes and rouged cheeks in the mirror she barely recognized the features as her own. Her hair was pulled back into some sort of twist, making her neck look long, and elegant. Even the way her hair swooped around her ears somehow lessened the harshness of their point. Kallian had traded blood spatters and sweat for a powdered nose and painted lips.
“Well, damn. Holy shit!” Kallian laughed to herself, lifting her skirt up in both hands, swishing the material back and forth. It sat with a heaviness on her body, but the layers were light and silky. Her already narrow frame was shaped into curves she didn’t know she had. Her waist was pulled in tight, threads of silver outlining the dark blue bodice. Not just the material, but the colours were richer than anyone in the Alienage ever wore or owned, far outmatching the wedding dress she had tossed away over a year ago. The off-the-shoulder style of the sleeves showed off her dainty shoulders and collarbone, making her look more womanly than she had during the entire Blight. Kallian barely recognized herself underneath it all, but it thrilled her as she felt the day was a moment for her to escape.
“I could not have said it better myself, mi amor. Holy shit, indeed,” Zevran’s eyes swept up and down her body several times as he leaned in the doorway.
“You like it?” Kallian spun playfully. “I kind of wanted pink, but Leliana said I should ‘remind people the Grey Warden is in attendance tonight’ so, blue. Not bad though, right?” It was a far cry from the usual garments Zevran saw her in. She didn’t normally look so… soft.
He stalked towards her, a predatory look in his eye. “Pink, blue, does not matter,” his fingers trailed across her collarbone, leaving heat in their wake, “I’m not sure how I am supposed to keep my hands off of you for the night.”
“Then don’t,” Kallian spoke in a low, enticing tone. Her heart already picking up just from the way he continued to stare. Desire was in his honeyed eyes surely as if she were laying on the bed naked, and it felt fucking good to be wanted by him, to feel like a girl from a fairytale when her life had been nothing of the sort.
“We are alone,” Zevran sauntered closer, hands falling to her narrow waist. “And we have some time.”
“You’re making great points,” Kallian gasped as he bent her backwards to attack her neck with teeth and lips.
“But,” he paused, breath hot on her ear, “I would hate to ruin your pretty painted face.”
“You fucking tease,” Kallian swatted his arm when he pulled back, trying to seem unaffected while she panted in his wake.
He shifted his pants for a moment and Kallian caught sight of the telltale bulge. She stepped towards him, palm casually brushing across his groin as she went to get her shoes. She smirked to herself when she picked up smallest sound of a sharp intake of breath. Caught him.
She cocked her head at him, only just now taking in his own immaculate appearance. Zevran always looked good, even when sprayed with the blood of their enemies - maybe even especially so - but tonight Zevran looked really good. Rather than dark leathers, he was trussed up in a deep red tunic with a black vest perfectly sculpted to his frame, black trousers and some handsomely crafted dark leather boots. She wanted to rip it all off him.
“You ah, don’t look so bad yourself, either,” Kallian managed to stutter as her eyes lingered on his body. “Gorgeous,” she said softly.
“Compliments from my warden? Do tell me more,” he purred, preening under her attention and the small hands that wandered down his chest.
“Shameless,” Kallian teased and took his offered arm all the same, squealing when he pinched her butt.
Perhaps she would have to make good on her own desire to tear his clothes off. Later.
#zevwarden week#zevran/tabris#zevran/kallian#zevran/warden#not late for once#but sorry is a wee bit short#snarky writing
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A little snippet from a post-trespasser story I am working on.
It will take place during Leliana and Nerana’s wedding, and feature Ashanna and Zevran meeting for the first time; it’s going to explore a few things that are important to me but I’ll wait to get into that until the whole story is finished. :3
Thanks to @vir-ghilani, the falon’din to my dirthamen, for some help with characterization + elvish
Her eyes kept drifting to that last one, when it became clear his attention was focused on her. He was of a handsome sort she supposed, with finery that sparkled in the bright lights of the grand dais, and leather boots so polished that they shone with each step. Really, he looked like a character straight out of one of the Orlesian literature she picked up; right down to the piercing gaze and roguish smile that was turned in her direction more than once even while conversing with some foreign noble. Clearly an elf of his own fortune, which was both gratifying to see, as well as a cause for concern.
When she glanced back up, he was striding purposefully towards her. He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server without missing a beat, and settled next to her on the wall. He drank deeply, draining the glass before speaking.
“Imagine my surprise when I find none other than the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor of the faithful making eyes at me from across the room! Such a fierce gaze that made my blood pound and my very soul shiver in anticipation. How could I do anything other than respond to her whims?”
“And who says my whims involve you being here? ” Ashanna responded automatically between sips of wine. Josephine was likely to regret leaving her side by morning, she thought.
“Say the word and I will be off in a flash, but you must know that I saw the Duke Bachard heading your direction with a list of favors in hand. I am happy to offer my companionship to prevent such a boring tragedy,” the elf winked, and she found herself with the barest hint of a smile despite herself.
“If it pleases you,” Ashanna agreed, leaning back against the wall. Her prosthetic bumped against the marble, making a loud thunk that made her suck in a deep breath.
“I am Zevran fair lady, and I assure you it pleases me a great deal.” If he noticed the sound, he did not mention it and for that she was grateful.
“You are one of the heroes of the fifth blight,” Ashanna observed, setting her glass down. A sense of relief washed over her, along with a small flush from the compliment. “Leliana told me stories about you.”
“Oh? I do hope she did my person justice, as well as Leliana knows me I am afraid she is fond of some of my more….wild escapades.”
His eyes scanned her face. It was brief, and something that most people would not notice, but Ashanna felt his gaze sweep up her chin to her forehead as if it were a physical blow. The taste of wine was still strong on her tongue when she opened her mouth.
“Looking for something on my face, Serah?”
“Can I not admire the features of a beautiful woman? Ah, where are my manners, of course it is presumptuous of me. I was merely wondering as to why so many stories persist of your being Dalish.”
Ashanna bristled at the words, her spine stiffening as she pulled herself from the wall to lift herself up to her full height. Even reaching only to the top of his chin, the fire in her eyes made him take a step backwards.
“Ghilas banalhan. My brethren would agree with you; after all I am only the naughty First that invited the Dread Wolf into her bed, and got her vallaslin taken as punishment. I’m sure a hundred years from now, they’ll all tell stories about the idiot little Dalish that fucked the Great Betrayer and heralded Thedas into its destruction.”
She closed her mouth, head pounding as the anger faded as quickly as it had come.
Zevran paused, clearing his throat before continuing.
“I appear to have blundered this introduction quite magnificently, Inquisitor Ashanna. Might I beg your forgiveness, so I may begin this conversation again on the right foot?”
#dragon age fanfiction#not sure how to tag this really#its kind of solavellan#kind of zevran/inquisitor#it will be more of a character development piece#ashanna lavellan
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