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writtenjewels · 3 years

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Masks part 2

Part One

He tried not to be too resentful of Leliana for dragging him here. These sorts of events were just very much outside his comfort zone. The unwanted attention only solidified that. Cullen was relieved to escape out to the balcony for a while. He got a few minutes of uninterrupted fresh air before someone came out to join him.

This was hardly the first peacock he'd seen at the masquerade. This person was at least clever about making their costume resemble a real peacock's body. So many of these others wore outlandish colors and some were even strutting about with tail-like trains that were constantly at risk of being trod upon. Cullen understood little about fashion but he would say compared to the others, this peacock looked almost tasteful.

They ended up having a fairly pleasant conversation. He hadn't really wanted to explain his current situation as a former Templar-turned commander, so he generalized and called himself a soldier. It wasn't until the peacock replied to Cullen's tease on “hunting” him with “I hope so” that the commander wondered if he just accidentally flirted with this man.

He was almost sure the peacock was a man, anyway.

Cullen spent a few minutes brooding over it. Did it really matter either way? They hadn't exchanged names and there was no chance of them meeting again. The idea made him oddly sad. For the brevity of the encounter, he had enjoyed himself.

Yes, he would try to find the man again. That decided, Cullen headed back into the ballroom. He searched around for peacocks, eliminating the ones with the wrong colors. He thought he found the right one a few times but the person wasn't the right height or the headdress design was a little off. Damn, what if the peacock already left for the night? He decided to check with the doorman.

He was nearly there when he spotted a flurry of green feathers. Cullen turned and eagerly moved a little closer. This one looked like the peacock he wanted. There was one way he could check for certainty. Discreetly he leaned forward to sniff.

“Found you,” he declared, feeling a little smug.

“Oh.” The peacock turned and he could make out the lower half of a smile. “The lion is on the prowl.”

“You wanted me to hunt you down,” Cullen reminded him.

“I did. Took you a bit longer than I would like. I was worried some other prey caught your interest.”

“Doubtful,” Cullen grunted. “You're the most interesting one here.” Dammit, he was flirting. Something about these masks made the concept a bit easier.

“Well, I know you don't want to dance, so what do you propose we do instead?” the peacock asked. That was a good question; Cullen hadn't thought that far ahead. “Come.” The peacock took his hand and tugged. “You did better on the balcony.” Cullen allowed himself to be led until they were more or less where he started. “You know I snuck in here just looking for a bit of fun,” the peacock mentioned. “I wasn't expecting this.”

“I wasn't expecting 'fun',” Cullen admitted.

“Then I would say we've both been pleasantly surprised.” Cullen smiled despite himself. “Are you sure I'm not taking you away from someone?” the peacock wondered. “No sweetheart waiting for you?”

“No. I've never really had a sweetheart.”

The peacock let out a thoughtful hum. “On that, we are alike.” Cullen felt it rude to ask for details so he stayed quiet. “I like your hair,” the peacock spoke up. “Could you give me the name of the stylist?”

“My friend did it,” Cullen told him. “She's dressed as a nightingale tonight. Hmm.” He frowned as something just occurred to him. “I haven't seen her all night. I hope she didn't leave without me.” The peacock chuckled and squeezed his hand. Cullen had barely noticed their hands were still clasped together.

“I'll stay to make sure the vicious piranhas of the Orlesian court don't come biting at your heels.”

“I feel like you're mixing animal metaphors,” Cullen frowned.

“Even lions need protecting now and then,” the peacock replied with a shrug, “and you've clearly never seen a peacock in a fight.” Cullen smiled, and the peacock leaned forward again.

“Stop trying to cheat.”

“I just wanted to see your smile. That scar must make it look extra charming.”

“You don't see me trying to sneak a peek at your mouth,” Cullen pointed out.

“That can be easily remedied.” The peacock pushed the beak of his mask up just enough for his mouth to be visible. Cullen observed the lips and the mustache, and knew now he would have to reciprocate. “I knew it,” the peacock said with satisfaction. “Very charming.” Cullen finally thought to release their hands and he saw those lips pull down into a disappointed pout.

“Do you do this often?” Cullen wondered. “Gate-crash parties and flirt with strangers?”

“Yes. Are you jealous?”

“No. We'll likely never see each other again.” And the concept still bothered him for some reason.

“You could always hunt me again,” the peacock suggested, “at the next masquerade. There's sure to be one within a week or so.” Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. This was madness. Absolute, complete madness. Why would he subject himself to this again? Just to spend an hour or so with a Tevinter mage, of all people? Not just any Tevinter mage. This one, the peacock. Maker help him.

“Fine,” he agreed.

#dorian x cullen #dorian pavus #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #cullrian

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bigfan-fanfic · 3 years

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Kost Aban as a Companion

(Face Claim: Brant Daugherty) Kost Aban, Road Dad of the Inner Circle and Magesmith for the Inquisition. He’s charming and sweet, and he’ll handle requisitions so you never have to worry about that Requisition Officer ever again. Also he makes travel snacks as well as serves as a portable weapon and armor crafting station. Did I mention he’s romanceable?

Companion Name: Kost Aban (lit. “Peaceful Ocean” in Qunlat) Race, Class, and Specialization: Qunari Mage (Rift Mage) Varric’s Nickname for Him: Shiny (for his horn ornaments) Default Tarot Card: Page of Wands

How He Is Recruited: His adopted human son, Roland, a young man of about 22, will rush out into the plaza in Val Royeaux on the first visit and request the Inquisitor come meet his father. Kost will immediately offer his services as a magesmith to the Inquisition, as well as his son’s skills as an apprentice. If the Inquisitor is a Qunari, he will also mention that sometimes it helps to have a friendly face around that one doesn’t have to look down to see. Where He Is In Skyhold: With his son, Dagna (and conditionally) Harritt in the Undercroft. He can generally be found talking smithing techniques or occasionally insisting Roland and Dagna go get refreshments and sunlight because they’ve been working too long. If he is recruited, he will also set up a cozy-looking sitting area/lounge in the Undercroft. Things He Generally Approves of: Upgrading Skyhold, completing Dagna’s sidequests, not siding with the Qunari, showing mercy Things He Generally Disapproves of: Siding with the Qunari, executing prisoners, siding with the Templars Mages, Templars, Other? As a mage himself and a former Saarebas, Kost definitely approves of siding with the mages and giving them freedom.

Romanceable? Yes, by any gender or race. Friends in the Inquisition: Blackwall, Sera, and Cole. He befriends Sera through Dagna, Blackwall because of their shared enjoyment of crafting, and Cole because Kost can’t help but adopt the kid. He becomes friends with Iron Bull if the Chargers are saved. Small Side mission: Collect 10 dawnstone and 10 bloodstone. Kost will Greatly Approve and unlock schematics for Magewrought Weapons

Companion Quest: Kost is happy to have his son working with him but wonders whether Roland might prefer a different career or perhaps to attend the University of Orlais. He once caught Roland studying magic books and worries that he’s pressuring him into apprenticeship. He asks the Inquisitor to speak to Roland instead. When confronted, Roland admits that he’s been studying magic books so that he can tinker and improve his prosthetic arm, but he didn’t want to offend his dad, who spent years working on the magical formulae. He asks the Inquisitor not to tell.

Option 1: Tell Kost - This will net Great Approval from Kost and Cole, and Kost will talk to Roland and say that he couldn’t be offended that Roland is so interested and asks for them to proceed together with the tinkering. Father and son embrace and thank the Inquisitor

Option 2: Cover for Roland - The Inquisitor has the choice of telling Kost that Roland was merely curious about the process of magic or lie and say the magic books were hiding naughty material. Either way Kost will agree to let the matter drop.

Cole’s Reflection on His Thoughts: “The mask is gone and the bonds broken, burnt away and banished. My voice shall never more lie lost and leashed, locked away behind bars of word and deed.” Comments on Mages: “I know what it is like to be born different, and I once knew nothing more than imprisonment and shame for what I was. I have nothing but sadness to know that even here, others share my fate.” Comments on Templars: “If your protector is also your jailer, I think you have somewhat of a conflict of interest.” When looking for something: “Listen... there is something...” When finding a campsite: “Allow me to whip up a little something from these field rations.” When he is low on health: “I will not make my son an orphan again!” When he sees a dragon: “Not that I’m saying we should fight it, but... I could make some seriously good stuff out of dragon bone and hide.” Default saying: “Do you think Roland’s doing alright?”

Travel Banter:

Vivienne: So, Ser Aban. I have heard much of your magesmithing techniques. The Formari believe you are usurping their dominance over the market. Kost: I’m afraid, Madam, the Formari are mistaken. I happen to make useful items, not decoration. Vivienne (amused): Indeed? Then you must prize function over form in your pieces. Kost: Of course. I want to keep people alive, even at the cost of fashion. Vivienne: Some costs are worth dying for, darling.

Kost: I didn’t get the chance to thank you, Blackwall. Blackwall: What for? Kost: The extra firewood. My forge requires more than a normal smithy to stay working, and you provided. Blackwall: Wasn’t for you specially. I... I like chopping wood. Kost: And teaching my son how to swing an axe played no role? Blackwall: Oh. Kost: Too many people treat him as though he’s useless. I saw how happy he was with you. So as I said. Thank you... for the firewood. Blackwall: ...you’re welcome. Kost: There’s a magewrought sword with your name on it when we return to Skyhold.

(If Cole was made more human) Kost: You don’t have to handle everything, you know. You changed, right down to the core. Cole: I am fine. Kost: Sure, sure. Just as long as you know you don’t have to be. We’ve got you, Cole. Starting with rest. I got you a spare blanket - I’ve seen you shivering in your sleep. Cole: But I don’t- Kost: I’ve seen what you do for people. You’re not invisible anymore, you know. So it’s time you let someone else help you. Do you mind it if it’s me? Cole: I... th-thank you.

Iron Bull: You don’t like me much, do you? Kost (sarcastically): I didn’t know you were going for universal popularity. Iron Bull: Ha. You talk like one of these Orlesian bigwigs. Too important to waste time on mercs? (If the Inquisitor is a Qunari) And what about being “a friendly face,” huh? Kost: You won’t get a reaction out of me, Ben-Hassrath. Iron Bull: Even a lack of reaction is a reaction. Kost: Fuck you. How’s that for a reaction?

Friendship: “Ah! Come here for a shield or a cup of tea and some chat? Either way, I’m at your service.”

The Fade

How he reacts: “Oh, I’m not enjoying this at all.” Their Tombstone: Bereavement What the Fears look like: Himself in the mask and chains of a Saarebas What the Nightmare says: “The so-called peaceful ocean. I’ve been watching you for years now. The eyes of the Qun are everywhere and now, there’s nothing you can do to deflect their gaze.” Their reflection about the Fade: “Never again. Never.” Hawke or Warden: Depends on Hawke’s actions. If Hawke sided with the Chantry in DA2, Kost will suggest that they are responsible for the Qunari improving their foothold and force and believe they should atone in the Fade. If not, Kost suggests the Qun’s respect for Hawke is one of the only things keeping the Qunari from invading and believes they should escape the Fade.

The Wardens

Their feelings: Believes the Wardens make hard choices to save the world from the Blight. Exile or Allies?: Allies

The Ball

How they feel: “It isn’t my first ball, but I’m surprised at how many people I know, here. Babette de Launcet just tried to poach me from the Inquisition!” Where they linger: The garden balcony, near the bard singing in Orlesian Are they good at the Game?: He’s not great at being fake, but he is good at schmoozing, especially since his smithing skills are an avid topic of discussion. What people say about them: “Did you see the Magesmith walking by? So tall and dashing...””You do realize he is a Qunari, don’t you?” “My dear, that’s all part of the appeal. Imagine those burly muscles sweating at a forge...” Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Briala, or Celene with Briala - he fears Gaspard in power most of all, and he’d hate if war broke out between Orlais and Ferelden with the Qunari lurking at the borders.

Temple of Mythal

Rituals or Hole?: Rituals Agree with the Elves’ bargain?: Agree. Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: The Inquisitor

Comments on Canon Romance

Cassandra: “The Seeker? A worthy choice. Though... I can’t help but wonder whether she’d choose love over duty should the time come.” Dorian: “Dorian? That must be fun - I hope he doesn’t criticize the patterns of your britches!” Sera: “Roland likes Sera - I think you two will get up to all sorts of mischief together.” Iron Bull: “Bull? Well... you do remember he was a Qunari spy, right? Never mind, I’m sure you know what you’re doing.” Josephine: “Don’t you hurt her, Inquisitor. She’s a wonderful person and a light in this world.” Cullen: “You know, I can craft certain soft lamps for the night. I’ve seen the look of a man who doesn’t sleep much on his face. Perhaps it will help.” Blackwall: “Tell me, I’m curious. Is the beard scratchy?” Solas: “D’you know, he hates tea? Suspicious, if you ask me.”

Sexual/Racial preference: Any race or gender. Nickname for PC: Little One Romance only mission: (Can only be completed after Kost’s love confession) A cutscene featuring Kost and the Inquisitor in bed plays, involving a pillow talk discussion where Kost says “I love you.” The Inquisitor can choose to say it back or not, and ask about his past. The conversation finishes with Kost suggesting marriage would be more than acceptable to him, although he wouldn’t pressure the Inquisitor into it. The quest involves speaking to Kost’s son Roland to get his blessing to propose to Kost. The Inquisitor must perform a War Table mission to get Roland some parts to aid in the proposal, which will affect the next cutscene. If Cullen is chosen, Roland will be given some explosives and dyes and he will shoot fireworks during the proposal. If Leliana is selected, smoke pellets will be given and Roland will make a clockwork smoke machine to give a mystical air to the proposal. If Josephine is chosen, Roland will meet with some bards and make a music box to play while the Inquisitor proposes. The Inquisitor will then meet with Kost in the Skyhold garden at night and propose, choosing dialogue options that are sweet, nervous, or humorous, all resulting in Kost accepting the proposal and promising to marry the Inquisitor and love them forever - once Corypheus has been dealt with.

Dialog to being asked for a kiss: “Did you come down here just for this? How romantic... I must make it worth your while, little one.”

Halamshiral dialog: “Of all the magnificence in this palace... I can say without exaggeration that nothing compares to you.”

Being asked to dance during mission: “Josephine would kill me if I kept you from some diplomat or duke. But I shall gladly sacrifice myself once you have made your rounds.”

Asking to dance post-mission: “I- I warn you, little one, I’m not very good. But I’d do anything for you.”

What Cole says about companion to PC: “There was always darkness behind the mask, both of the masks he’s worn. But now it is safe and soft. Now there is you.”

Who is concerned about the relationship?: Vivienne. Josephine (for political reasons)

Who supports the relationship?: Blackwall, Dorian, Cullen

Who had a bet running on it?: Cassandra, Sera

Banter(between NPCs):

Vivienne: (after the romance only mission) I understand I am to offer you and the Inquisitor congratulations? Kost: We are engaged, yes. Vivienne: I do hope you understand what you are doing. Kost: I understand that I am in love. I understand that I am loved in return. And I understand that political considerations do not matter to me when I am with the Inquisitor. Does that satisfy you, Madam? Vivienne: Satisfy? No. Please me? Quite. I wish you every happiness.

Blackwall: You’ve... been around a while, haven’t you? Kost: Er... yeah? Blackwall: And the Inquisitor doesn’t mind? Not that it’s a problem, not that I think it’s a problem or anything, just- Kost: Ser Blackwall, do you have your eye on someone younger than you? Blackwall: What? I- where would you think tha- no. Kost (teasing): Fascinating. You blush right through your beard! Blackwall (groaning playfully): Oh, piss off!

Sera: You and the big man, eh? Hehe, because- Kost: Sera. You’re not subtle. Vivienne (if present): My dear, your lack of tact is simply appalling. Sera: Rolly likes you too, yeah? You better not hurt his dad or you know what? Kost: It’s arrows, isn’t it? Sera: Arrows!

Flirt options: Upon reaching Skyhold and unlocking the Undercroft, Kost will be ecstatic at the sight of the new smithing area and the Inquisitor can say he looks adorable when excited. This opens up a dialogue option later to begin romancing him.

If PC breaks it off: “Ah. I- uh. Of course. I hope I haven’t done anything to offend you. I shall continue to help the Inquisition as best I can.”

Love confession: Kost will ask to take a walk with the Inquisitor and they will end up on the battlements. Kost will talk about his life as a smith and as a father and say that he never seemed to end up with anyone to love and romance... until the Inquisitor. He says he hopes he didn’t read the situation wrong, but that he has fallen hopelessly for them.

Romanced tarot card: King of Pentacles

End game dialog: “Isn’t that something? No matter how hard I tried, I could never forge something as beautiful as a sunrise. I could never capture that kind of beauty. And yet... it is nothing compared to your face. The sun rises and sets each day without fail, but I promise to be even more constant for you - I am with you.”

#kost aban #inquisitor as a companion #dragon age #my ocs

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the-lightning-mage · 3 years

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OC Interview: Beatrix Cousland

I saw this floating around and decided to do it for some of mine (Graham’s up next). I’m including some of my own questions, and I’ve seen various other questions used by different people. If you specifically came up with some of them, let me know so I can credit you! This is for my Warden and is set anywhere from after the beginning of Act 1 of DA2 to before she leaves to find the cure.

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

She smirks and scoffs slightly before she starts talking, “Prepare yourself for a long list of titles. I am Beatrix Cousland, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, Queen of Ferelden, and Hero of Ferelden. But those closest to me call me Bea.”

What is your gender identity, orientation, and relationship status?

“I am a woman. I like men and women, though I do have a preference for men. And,” her smirk breaks into a full blown grin, “I am married to the most wonderful man in all of Thedas. You may know him as King Alistair, but he’s more than that.”

Where and when were you born?

“I was born in Castle Cousland in Highever, like all other Couslands before me, and I was born in 9:10 Dragon.”

What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

“I’m good with any blade really, though I stay away from Greatswords. In front of people who have not seen me fight before, I enjoy dual-wielding longswords, because the look of intimidation is priceless. I usually spring for two daggers though. One of which belonged to Duncan,” a slight look of sadness appeared on her face, but she shook her head and continued, “As for my fighting style... I’m a rogue, through and through. My friend Zevran taught me some of the techniques that the Antivan Crows use, and a friend of his, a pirate, taught me her personal style of dueling when we met her in The... we met her Denerim.”

Lastly, are you happy?

“I am, now. I struggled to find happiness in the beginning of the Blight. I don’t think I would’ve made it without Alistair. But now? I’m happier than I thought I would be. I miss my family, and my friends, but I am in the best place I could be now.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

That look of sadness is back, “My... most of my blood relatives are dead. My parents, my nephew, my sister-in-law... The only close relative that is still alive is my older brother, Fergus, and he is very, very dear to me. I of course have Alistair. I love him more than anything in the world. Then there is the Wardens and my closest friends, and I consider them my family,” the sadness fades, and she starts laughing, “If you had told me that I would consider Nathaniel Howe family back when the Blight started I would’ve never have had believed you.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

“Hmmm... I’ve sneaked out, and I’ve fled from my home, but I’ve never ran away.”

Would you consider marriage or having children?

“I’m already married, so I did consider marriage. Now, I don’t think I would ever remarry if... well, I don’t want to think about that. As for children... I want to have children, but,” she places a hand on her stomach, “Wardens. Our fertility is so low that it’s practically non-existent. And given that both Alistair and I have gone through the Joining... At the very least we will adopt a child. Maker knows that they could use it. The nobles who oppose it can go to the Void.”

Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“Why would I be friends with someone I hate?” She makes a disgusted face, “Am I friendly with people I dislike on the other hand? Yes, sadly. It’s part of being both a Commander and part of the nobility. It’s one of the biggest downfalls of the nobility.”

Which friend knows everything about you?

“Well, Alistair of course, but that’s a given. Other than him... it’s probably a rather odd tie between Zevran and Nathaniel. How Nathaniel and I got to that point... I still struggle to understand it. Leliana and I used to be closer, but I don’t get to see her as often as Zev.”

Other

Are you religious?

“It’s complicated. I believe in Andraste and the Maker, but the Chantry is a whole other beast. This world cannot be what Andraste had envisioned. I mean, look at how long it took for the Chantry we know to be established.”

What is one thing from your past that you would change?

“I would save Oren. As much as I hate saying it, saving my parents would change too much, but Oren. He was far too young.”

Are your parents proud of you, or would they be?

“I think so. When I said goodbye to my parents I think they believed that I would succeed as a Warden, but I don’t think they saw me becoming the Commander or Queen.”

Choices

Drink or food?

She gives an incredibly confused look, “What kind of question is that?”

Cats or dogs?

“I love all animals, but I am very Fereldan woman. I may or may not have an small army of mabaris in Denerim.”

Optimist or pessimist?

“I try to be an optimist. As Commander, I have to be. The Wardens under my command look to me, and I don’t want them to be scared. Though it can be hard sometimes. When I start to become more pessimistic, I focus on just the actions themselves.”

Sassy or Sarcastic?

“...Sarcastic?”

Have you ever

Been caught sneaking out?

“...yes. And no, I won’t be elaborating on that. I don’t think a certain person would appreciate it.”

Broken a bone?

“Yes, once when I was child. I was thrown from a horse. I broke my left arm. Then,” her face contorts in complete disgust, “when were dealing with the mess in Amaranthine, I broke some ribs. Those healed almost instantly thanks to Anders. It’s a shame he decided to leave, but I don’t hold it against him. The other Wardens are going to hate me for saying that.”

Received flowers?

“Look at my titles. Of course I have. The best however, was a single flower.” She gets a dreamy look as she continues to speak, “The first time Alistair really, really tried to flirt with me and tell me how he feels, he gave me this single rose. He had plucked it when we had stopped in Lothering. That moment when he had given it to me... Maker, it was easily the sweetest and cheesiest thing anyone had ever done for me. I am so happy to have him by my side.”

Ghosted someone?

“...No?”

Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Again. Look at the titles.”

#beatrix cousland #dragon age #dragon age origins #warden cousland #warden #dao

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varric-tethras-editor · 3 years

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Silvhen Mahariel OC Answers

I found this template by @justafewocprompts and decided to tell everyone about my Warden Silvhen Mahariel. It quickly got away from me and became.... quite long.

Please enjoy.

Character’s full name:

Silvhen Linise Mahariel

Reason or meaning of name:

Silvhen: sal’melin, given name, mean. Someone who thinks of others before herself, lit. “thought people, thought of people”

Linise: lenal’melin, Mother’s name, mean. Child of fire

Mahariel: lethal’melin, clan name

Character’s nickname:

“Silvhenan”

Reason for nickname:

Alistair Theirin thinks he is immensely cute and funny with his girlfriend. He learned that the Elvhen word for “heart” was vhenan and decided to get clever.

Birth date:

29 Kingsmere, 9:11 Dragon

Physical appearance:

Reference photos (will be eventually) provided

Age:

18 at the start of Fifth Blight

How old does he/she appear:

Representative of actual age, but is short and small.

Weight:

105

Height:

5’0

Body build:

Very small frame with surprising dense muscle in arms, abs, and thighs.

Shape of face:

Oval with petite chin

Eye color:

Forest green

Glasses or contacts:

N/a

Skin tone:

Porcelain with rosy, windswept cheeks

Distinguishing marks:

Mauve, brown twisting, vine-like vallaslin

Predominant features:

Petite, pointed ears

Hair color:

Light Wheat-Toned Blonde

Type of hair:

Fine but thick with silky texture

Hairstyle:

Short pixie cut

Voice:

Higher-pitched and chime-like.

Overall attractiveness: Decently attractive, but often overlooked. Figuratively, and literally. She’s small.

Physical disabilities:

Only has 7 toes. Lost three when she was 13 and on her (first) mission to move from apprentice to hunter. She claims this is the reason for her clumsiness but her companions have seen her slice through darkspawn too effectively to believe that excuse any longer.

Usual fashion of dress:

When exploring or wandering around she wears typical fennec leather or wolf leather leggings and cloth tunics cinched at the waist with belts; both for combat enhancement and because most clothes are too big. Foot wraps because she is a Good Dalish Girl.

Favorite outfit:

She wore a skirt for the first time this year when Leliana leant one to her for a tavern outing one night in Denerim. Despite knowing the vast impracticalities of skirts, Silvhen could not stop admiring how it twirled around her and she felt very pretty that night. (Especially when Alistair couldn’t keep his eyes off her legs and the blush off his cheeks.)

Jewelry or accessories:

Usually wearing various enhancing pendants and rings. Always wears a special silver ring that Morrigan found in a Denerim market and bought for her. Silvhen knows the importance of the gesture and never takes it off.

Personality

Very kind and selfless. Slow to anger and quick to compromise. Effervescent and clumsy. Loves to laugh and smile. She has a strong sense of community and prioritizes others, always.

Good personality traits:

Magnanimous, always sharing and giving to others. Very diplomatic even though it intimidates her to be a Grey Warden sometimes. Patient and quick to come up with solutions. Immensely friendly and welcoming to all people regardless of race, class, or background. Remembers absolutely everything about her friends (birthdays, preferences, favorite things, etc.) and loves being able to finally give gifts freely.

Bad personality traits:

Over-trusting, impulsive, bad at math and payment due to growing up with trading in her clan. She often gets taken advantage of by merchants if she is shopping alone. (Wynne has noticed this and usually tries to follow Silvhen around the markets to glare at any merchants who try any shady business.) She also likes to start a lot of projects/missions/quests and abandon them when she gets distracted. Oftentimes she is already looting the bodies before the fighting is over and her companions do not appreciate it. They usually overlook it, however, when Silvhen shares all the gold and goods that she finds.

Mood character is most often in:

Casual and agreeable.

Sense of humor:

Light sparkling laughs when others make jokes. Not loud or overly joking herself, but loves being entertained by her friends. (She thinks Zevran is the funniest of all her companions but would never admit that out loud to Alistair.)

Character’s greatest joy in life:

Meeting new people, from all walks of life. Especially all her new, interesting, and diverse companions!

Character’s greatest fear: Losing all her friends. And the Archdemon.

Why?

Her friends are the reason she perseveres and fights for a safe Fereldan and without them everything would be for nothing.

Have you seen that creature? It is huge and scary and Silvhen is very small.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?

Well, she’s already lost her childhood best friend, had to forcibly become a Grey Warden, and learned that she is to be the saviour of all of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight so nothing else could probably really phase Silvhen at this point. Maybe if she woke up with nug arms it would be pretty difficult to use her daggers though…

Character is most at ease when:

Sitting around the campfire with her companions, drinking Oghren’s ale, listening to Leliana’s music and trying to hide her laughter when Morrigan and Zevran tease Alistair.

Most ill at ease when:

Having to deal with political leaders or nobles. She always remains kind but gets nervous about the consequences of her making a political or social gaffe.

Enraged when:

People belittle her and her race/culture or when people imply she cannot do something because she is an elf or a woman. This is the only time when her kindness slips, usually. All of her companions relish the moment that someone says a slur or offensive comment because they find it very entertaining to watch her tell off bigots.

Depressed or sad when:

She is alone. Being lonely makes her sad, but also she will usually only express her sadness when alone. She doesn’t want to risk making other people sad alongside her.

Priorities:

Beat up the Archdemon

Save Ferelden and her friends

Spend the rest of her life making Alistair Theirin know how loved he is

Life philosophy:

Be kind to everyone and everything. The world will repay what you provide, always.

If granted one wish, it would be: That she could travel with more than 3 of her companions at any given time.

Why?

She feels bad when her friends have to be left behind. She feels fortunate to see as many amazing places as she does and wishes she could always share that with ALL her companions!

Character’s soft spot:

Her companions.

Is this soft spot obvious to others?

Yes. She literally never shuts up about how much she adores her companions. She gets drunk in taverns after one mug of Ale and starts gushing to strangers about her love for her companions. Sometimes she doesn’t even need the mug of ale.

Greatest strength:

Her empathy and compassion.

Greatest vulnerability or weakness:

Her empathy and compassion.

Biggest regret:

Not being able to save Tamlen, and feeling like she gave up on him.

Minor regret:

Stealing her dad’s staff to “practice magic” in the forest when she was 6. She had never seen him scared before, and that was the night she learned about Templars.

Biggest accomplishment:

Becoming a Grey Warden and helping to save the people of Ferelden.

Minor accomplishment:

Winning the rock skipping contest at the last Arlathvhen. Of almost 200 Dalish contestants she bested everyone and won an ironbark dagger.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about:

It took her two tries to eventually move from apprentice to hunter. She attempted the first time right after turning 13. She finally succeeded when she was 15 and had worked on developing her patience further.

Why?

She was very gifted, but impulsive when she was young. She felt she had much to prove since her father was a mage (the clan’s First under Marethari Talas) and she was not. She was eager to prove herself and instead was very hurt. She ended up losing three toes in the end, instead of her whole foot, but was very embarrassed and felt she let down her Father. She tells everyone that she lost her toe in the second hunting excursion and doesn’t tell anyone about her first attempt.

Character’s darkest secret:

Silvhen desperately wishes that she would have been born a mage, like her late father.

Does anyone else know?

Not anymore, but she thinks that she might eventually confide this in Alistair. Tamlen was the only person she had ever told.

Goals

Drives and motivations:

Making the world a better and kinder place. Keeping people safe and making them feel loved.

Immediate goals:

Gather allies. Slay the Archdemon. Save Ferelden from the Blight. Find a place that serves authentic Dalish Hot Pot Stew.

Long term goals:

One day, once Fereldan is safe, she would like to settle down with Alistair and spend her entire future loving him and being loved in return. She also wants to be a mother, but keeps this dream a lot closer to her chest.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals:

With the help and support of her companions!

How other characters will be affected:

There will be lots of bruises and scrapes. Some broken bones and many gauges. Scars will form, but so will friendships.

Past

Hometown:

Nomadic Dalish

Type of childhood:

Raised by members of the community as well as her single father. Her mother passed at child birth, due to poor maternal mortality rates among the Dalish.

Pets:

Silvhen was given a Halla by her father after she lost her toes to help aid in her recovery. She named her Atisha, meaning peace or calm as a reminder that impulsivity would not yield positive results. Atisha has become positively enamored with Morrigan, much to her displeasure. Silvhen likes to say it’s because Morrigan wears so many shiny baubles, and that attracts Atisha to her. Morrigan scoffs at this, but Silvhen has caught Morrigan shape shifting and calmly wandering the forests with Atisha when no one at camp was paying attention.

First memory:

Her father performing magic tricks for her as a child in their aravel.

Most important childhood memory:

Becoming friends with Tamlen. He had fallen down on the outskirts of camp and scraped his knee and was afraid to tell his mother that he had snuck out of camp. Silvhen brought him home to her father who healed his knee with magic.

Why:

Tamlen was her best friend for her entire childhood. They grew up alongside one another because Tamlen’s mother was neglectful and abusive. Silvhen realized later that her father, by healing Tamlen’s knee, had saved him from a rough punishment. Tamlen was the person she confided everything in. They spent all of their time together, shared jokes and tears. When Tamlen’s mother passed away when they were 12 he was essentially raised by Dianisamhal, Silvhen’s father for the years until Dianisamhal died.

Childhood hero:

Her father

Dream job:

Keeper (impossible and secret due to her not being a mage)

Education:

Homeschooled in a sense. Given the traditional Dalish education which consisted of more lessons in culture and lore, hunting, survival skills, and clan trades. Was mostly illiterate until becoming a Grey Warden. Alistair helps her learn words that are more difficult by reading posters around markets.

Religion:

Taught extensively about Dalish and Elvhen lore and gods. The Creators were prayed to and honored while growing up in her clan.

Finances:

Living in the clan they didn’t have much of a class system or difference in wealth versus their neighbors.

Present

Current location:

Wherever her travels have taken her today. Anywhere in Ferelden at any given moment.

Currently living with:

Her companions! They all share tents while travelling but she usually tries to share with Alistair most nights because she gets very cold and she likes how big and warm and safe his body feels.

Pets:

Her halla, Atisha, and her Mabari, Doghren.

Religion:

Believes in the Dalish gods casually and culturally. Not exceedingly devout but does believe.

Occupation:

Grey Warden

Finances:

She is not to be trusted with any of the parties finances. She does not understand how the Thedosian currency operates and is consistently overcharged and overpays. She is also too kind for her own good so she is constantly giving coin to strangers and beggars. (The only time she did not give coin to a person asking was when dealing with Goldana, Alistair’s horrid sister. Silvhen wanted to give that lady nothing more than a swift slap to the face.) The others no longer trust her judgement or knowledge in money and make sure she never has more than 2 gold on her at any given moment, for emergencies.

Family

Mother:

Linise Aralla Mahariel (mean. Child of fire. [Linise was born in the Denerim Alienage during a fire that encompassed many of the buildings.]) (mean.

Relationship with her:

Passed during childbirth. Her father does not talk about her mother incredibly often but she cherishes the stories and information she does have from both him and from old journals of her mothers who was a writer and poet.

Father:

Dianisamahl Eolaselan Mahariel (mean. Filled with laughter.) (mean. Knower, an agent of knowledge.)

Relationship with him:

Silvhen loves her father very much and had a wonderful relationship with him. Unfortunately he was killed by bandits attacking the clan. Silvhen was 16 when this happened and was devastated.

Siblings:

None, only child.

Relationship with them:

N/A

Spouse:

None

Relationship with him/her:

N/A

Children:

None

Relationship with them:

N/A

Other important family members:

Tamlen was always considered a sort of family member for Silvhen. He spent most nights with Silvhen and her father eating dinner together and playing.

Favorites

Color:

Green

Least favorite color:

Red

Music:

Anything Leliana plays is immediately Silvhen’s new favorite song. You can find her gently humming them for a few days afterwards, without fail.

Food:

Growing up Dalish she never had a terribly diverse cuisine. Now that she travels all over Ferelden she tries new things, but still typically prefers to eat stews, jerky, and vegetables. However, she has grown to appreciate hot, sweet rolls that some bakeries make.

Literature:

She was mostly illiterate in common until joining the Grey Wardens. She used to read her father’s Elvhen magic manuals though, and found them very interesting. She also loved listening to the clan’s hah’ren tell stories to the children and often joined in the tellings.

Form of entertainment:

Her friends are where she derives much of her entertainment. They are all so diverse, humorous, and interesting! She really enjoys observing and people watching, and asking questions about others.

Expressions:

She doesn’t have many common phrases that she uses. Mostly lots of laughter.

Mode of transportation:

Walking, mostly.

Most prized possession:

The rose that Alistair gave her, and the journal/sketchbooks of her parents.

Habits

Hobbies:

Now that she is learning to read common better she has been enjoying reading various books. She still struggles with adult novels but she found few advanced children’s tales in a Denerim bookshop and reads them in the morning when her companions are still asleep. She also enjoys taking walks around nature and finding various flowers and leaves to pick and press. She keeps a journal of all her favorite flowers she has come across while exploring.

Plays a musical instrument?

No. And she cannot sing well either.

Plays a sport?

No. But she does hunt.

How he/she would spend a rainy day:

The same as any other day? There are still things that need to get done and water doesn’t stop that!

Spending habits:

We know how Silvhen is about this and we love her anyway.

Smokes:

Silvhen and Tamlen definitely would sneak away in their adolescent years to smoke various versions of elfroot and deep mushroom once in a while. Occasionally while walking through the forests in Southern Ferelden she spots the best kinds and brings them back to camp where she and Zevran stay up late and giggle with one another around the campfire.

Drinks:

Occasionally she will have a drink or two socially with her friends but cannot consume much due to her being so small and such an infrequent drinker. She does enjoy making out with Alistair while drunk though, so he often has to watch her while they go out to taverns together to make sure she behaves herself.

Other drugs:

She has concocted a mixture of various root powders to help with either energy or calmness. She uses thee as needed and gives servings to her companions as well. Wynne and Morrigan keep asking her for the recipe but she won’t share it with them.

What does he/she do too much of?

Overthink her decisions.

What does he/she do too little of?

Indulge in things for herself.

Extremely skilled at:

Hunting and using every part of an animal. She is quick and efficient with her kills. Then she creates wonderful stews and jerkys from the meats, she uses the bones for glue and crafts and to make beads. She uses the hides for leathers and clothing or armors. All of her companions seem thoroughly impressed by this trait but Sten especially so. After watching her do this ritual from start to finish one afternoon he called her “kadan” for the first time. She has never forgotten that moment.

Extremely unskilled at:

Cooking, except for her smoked jerky she makes from her hunts, which her companions adore. The rest of the meat she must give to Sten and Wynne who prepare most of the meals at camp.

Nervous tics:

When she is uncertain or anxious, and her hair has gotten too long she twirls the tiny pieces around the edges of her neck. She usually cuts it short for this reason, as well as practicality.

Usual body posture:

She almost always stands very straight because she is short, and slouching wouldn’t do any favors.

Mannerisms:

Very casual and breezy among her friends or common folk. More timid around leaders or nobles.

Peculiarities:

Her accent is quite prominent and it sounds odd but endearing with her higher pitched voice.

Traits

Optimist or pessimist?

Optimist

Introvert or extrovert?

She gets her energy from being around people but isn’t always outwardly exuberant. She laughs along and joins in the conversation but isn’t the center of attention or the loudest in a room.

Daredevil or cautious?

As a child she was impulsive, but learned patience with age and practice.

Logical or emotional?

Logical

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?

Methodical and neat.

Prefers working or relaxing?

Working.

Confident or unsure of himself/herself?

Quietly confident. She is a little worried about how she will face the archdemon, but knows that she has friends and allies to help her.

Animal lover?

Yes

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself:

She is generally pleased with the person that she is, however she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything truly “great” in her life so far to make her mark on the world. She’s eternally grateful to Duncan for not only saving her life but also for giving her the opportunity to achieve that greatness.

One word the character would use to describe self:

Considerate

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self:

A Dalish elf who travels with those she loves and tries to do the best for others. Loves the nature that surrounds us and the people that inhabit it. Wants to make the world a better place through kindness, compromise, and laughter.

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait?

Her patience

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait?

Naivety

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic?

Her smile and lips.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?

Her ears, but simply because she thinks they are too small. Other elvhen children used to tease her and call her a “shem” because her ears were smaller and less pointed, so to compensate when she turned of age she chose a very deliberate and bold Vallaslin to ensure that everyone she met would immediately know she was an elf.

How do the people in the character's life view him/her:

The literal most kind person they’re ever met. Alistair sometimes secretly believes she might be divinely blessed because he has never in his whole life met someone so kind and considerate and patient and Maker’s breath how did he get so lucky to be cared about by someone like her he’s no one special-- *Silvhen kisses him to shut him up*

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself:

She would like to have a better understanding of the world outside of life lived in a Dalish clan. She loved her upbringing but sometimes she feels overwhelmed and insecure as a result of things like money, politics, and street smarts.

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general:

She thinks people are the most beautiful things about the world. Growing up Dalish she loved the land but she’s always had a fascination with people. She finds other races and cultures interesting and enlightening and enjoys hearing tales from all over Thedas.

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others?

Not usually. She prefers to be sad while alone, however.

Person character most hates:

Goldana, Loghain, and (secretly) Isolde and Eamon. Basically, any human who has ever wronged Alistair.

Best friend(s):

Tamlen (childhood through start of blight)

Alistair, and Leliana now.

Love interest(s):

Alistair Theirin <3

Person character goes to for advice:

When she wants validation she goes to Leliana. When she wants tough love she goes to Wynne. When she wants to get the truth fast and dirty she goes to Zevran. (Or when it’s about sex she goes to Zevran.)

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of:

Herself. Her pets. Alistair, in an emotional sense.

Person character feels shy or awkward around:

Politicians and Nobles.

Person character openly admires:

Alistair, Alistair, and Alistair. Also, Leliana.

Person character secretly admires:

Wynne and Morrigan. Silvhen sees Wynne as a sort of Mother figure that she never quite had. Silvhen thinks Morrigan is the most fascinating human she has ever met but usually doesn’t bring this up because she knows Alistair doesn’t care for her and that her fascination would make Morrigan uncomfortable.

Most important person in character’s life before story starts:

Her Father and Tamlen.

After story starts:

Alistair, and all of her companions.

#silvhen #mahariel #dragon age #dragon age origins #dao #my ocs #oc prompts #oc answers #TELL ME WHAT U LUV ABT MY OC PLS SHE WANTS VALIDATION #silvhen mahariel

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ilovehallas · 4 years

Text

Leave no witnesses

Relationships: Zevran/f!Mahariel, Tamlen&f!Mahariel

Summary:

As Andrastians give their loved ones to the fire, the Dalish give theirs to the earth.

Serket Mahariel knows that she's burying more than just Tamlen's body, but she never did learn how to experience grief in front of others. So she decides that she won't, and holds a funeral for two.

Tags: unprocessed grief, (not actually) unrequited love, hurt/comfort

[Events ended up aligning in the worst of ways in my game: after Zevran approached the warden to spend the night with her, he of course states that this is a matter of fun rather than feelings. Very soon after the confrontration with Tamlen happened - while I was on my way to Orzammar and the Deep Roads.]

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In the aftermath of the battle, it was as though all sound had disappeared in the void the fight had left. Silence droned on, deafening and maddening, not even the sheets of metal of her haphazardly thrown on armor scraping together would make a sound.

Reluctantly Serket tore her eyes away from the body before her.

“We should move camp a bit further” she stated, tone flat.

Nobody seemed to move for a moment, all of them just standing around her where they’d last slain an enemy, bodies still tense in combative postures. She couldn’t say for sure who was who, the light of the fire was in their backs so they were more like shadows than people.

“Even if we were to burn the darkspawn, their stench will linger” she continued. She didn’t like this, how her words seemed to echo in the dead air. Nobody was speaking. They were only looking at her.

“Move the camp” she reiterated. “I’ll take care of this.”

The first figures shifted, moving to follow her command hopefully. Some lingered uncomfortably, leaving with protests she didn’t bother to hear when she eventually stared them down. She must’ve said something too, but who cared what it was as long as it got the job done.

Good. She watched them, not turning her back on them just yet, not as long as she couldn’t be sure they’d stopped looking at her. Their eyes weren’t needed here, their questioning, prying eyes. Not a single one of them. Serket wouldn’t let them find answers because these weren’t questions any of them should be asking.

Something brushed up against her hand unexpectedly; her mabari Isun was circling her, reluctant to leave her side. First her sword dropped out of her hand, then her shield fell to the ground as she reached out to pat his broad head with trembling fingers. “You go too” she said, pushing gently but unyielding as the animal whined in vain at the rejection. With a sad little bark he eventually relented, trotting away to where her companions were busying themselves.

Once the sounds of the camp being torn down reached her, she set out to do her part, grabbing the nearest dead shriek. The horrid smell coming off of its deformed body stung in her nostrils and the repulsion stirring in her gut mixed with the exhaustion made it difficult to drag it away. This first one wasn’t too bad however, she dumped it into a natural shallow pit in the earth not far away. The second one was tougher, this one heavier and requiring her to get up close to securely grip it and hoist it up enough to carry. Her face was inches from its foul skin, lungs breathing in the blighted fumes. It was something visceral to hold on to, an anchor that kept her thoughts from wandering. By the last one, her limbs were shaking a bit under the strain, little shocks like lightning running through the muscles of her legs occasionally, her hair and her clothes sticking to her sweaty, itching skin, metal digging painfully into her flesh.

She surveyed her work, this little mount of meaningless dead meat. Time to face the facts. She staggered back to the field of the fight.

The sight of what remained of Tamlen was like a small earthquake, a rumble deep down at her core barely reaching the surface despite its violence. This wasn’t a case of a peaceful corpse that seemed as if he were only sleeping, the torment Tamlen had endured was readily apparent. His hands resembled claws now with how strangely contorted they were. He had no hair left; his skin was stretched tight over the bones as if most of his flesh had simply melted away, skin darkened in many places from spots of decay. Serket couldn’t even make out any last traces of his vallaslin. So this was where he’d been all this time. This was where she would follow if the Archdemon didn’t get her first.

She’d have to dig a grave. Staying the night to sing for him wouldn’t be an option, neither would be planting a tree in blighted soil, she couldn’t offer any of the proper burial rites but she could dig a grave at least. At the very least.

Blinking against the stabbing headache, Serket looked around for any tool that could assist her because even like this she knew that she wouldn’t be able to do it with her hands. Frustration bubbled hot and angry in her when nothing caught her eye and it became apparent that she would need to go back to the others; she tried to run a hand over her feverish face but recoiled when she touched it to her skin and realized it was still covered in grime and blood.

She didn’t want to go where people were with their unfamiliar eyes, full of curiosity and pity and incomprehension. Everyone was a stranger to her, in a strange land, at once miles away from her and smothering.

With a silent sob, Serket picked up her shield again, raised it high above her head and thrust the pointed end into the earth. Again and again she hacked into the ground with it, coming to kneel in the dirt.

But of course there would be footsteps. Her eyesight now blurry from either sweat or unshed tears, she squinted at the approaching figures. This time she could see that it was two of them, one had to be Alistair, the other Zevran, trailing a bit behind. It was a cruel joke to play on her, she thought. Like a hot iron to her vulnerable flesh.

“Can we… help?” Alistair ventured, and she could see the way he helplessly turned his head as if looking to Zevran for counsel.

Serket shook her head. She wanted to tell them to go away, but as so often her tongue was tied suddenly, the words clear in her mind but somehow not coming over her lips. When the two men wouldn’t immediately leave, desperation took hold and she tried to communicate, trying to get her hands to sign words but they wouldn’t unfurl, wouldn’t release the shield she was clinging to.

“Are you sure?”

Of course she was. She wasn’t stupid. She willed her mouth to form words, anything to make them go away.

“I only need a shovel” she managed to get out, relieved that her tone didn’t seem to betray the effort it took to speak. Despite the pain she managed to get back on her feet. She wasn’t going to give them anything to see, this wasn’t the time or place for any of this.

“Wouldn’t it be—“ Zevran started, but she cut him off.

“I need a shovel, not you.”

The harshness of the words only registered in the way she had to spit them. She meant it. She really meant it.

“I guess I’ll… check if we have one” Alistair said, taking the first step backwards before he turned to face the camp instead. Zevran did so as well but not without another look at her, and as they walked away she saw that they were exchanging words she couldn’t hear. For a moment she was overcome with the urge to call them back, to beg them to help her, or to gouge out their eyes for seeing her like this.

Serket listlessly stared at the little hole she’d made in the soil. Everything about her felt so brittle. She’d hoped she would carry it with a little more dignity, but apparently not. She resumed her work even as the shield proved ineffective. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to let them intrude and endure their presence, because then at least they wouldn’t have known that it hurt. But it wouldn’t have been fair to Tamlen and her.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time she became aware of another presence approaching. Who was it this time? Serket hit the shield down harder. Wynne? Morrigan? To tell her that a spell could do what she was doing much easier or to berate her for her sentimentality? Sten, here to let her know that a buried ghoul does nothing but taint the earth? Leliana, with empty condolences for something she didn’t understand? Or one of them again. Alistair was alright with how easily he listened, but Zevran…

When she lifted her head however, it turned out that it was Isun, carrying a shovel in his mouth as he ran up to her. Expectantly the dog peered up at her, wagging his short little tail and nearly bumping the shovel’s handle against her from the excessive movement.

Wordlessly she took the tool from Isun and set it aside before she slung her arms around the mabari and buried her face in his bristly fur. Everything seemed to crash against her all at once and she was getting sucked down under fast; she pressed her eyes shut and waited for the onslaught to ease. Everything was too much all of a sudden, every little sensation burned. A wail she refused to release lodged itself in her throat, it pushed upwards but she stemmed against it with all she had, even as it choked her. She dimly noted the tears streaming down her cheeks as she waited for the end to come, one way or another. Her heart was pounding in her head. This was more than grief alone.

Isun held still for her as long as it took.

“I think it’s alright if you help” Serket said when the tide receded and leaned onto the shovel in order to stand. Isun barked a few times and pawed restlessly at the ground until she gave the sign that he could begin digging.

Serket had inevitably witnessed a few funerals in her lifetime. Life and death were intertwined, that was a law of nature that none of them would ever escape, so these occasions were commemorations of both aspects joined together. That’s why they were always a communal effort as well, to be reminded of the connections between them all, even those given to the earth. The ties that bound her and Tamlen together were knotted and wound tightly. That day they had been on the threshold together facing opposite directions; Duncan had pulled her towards life for another day then, and today she could give Tamlen that push he’d needed to go forward as well. In that way, things had ended as well as they could. Neatly and tidy.

Serket felt like throwing up. Nothing about this was good, no matter how she twisted it. She’d told Tamlen not to touch it. The clan didn’t know where he’d gone. They didn’t even know where she was now and where she’d come to rest one day. It was so unbearably unfair, all of it, that she had to bury her friend in this place so far away from home, in this pitiful grave with nothing. She felt like throwing up, but maybe this was exhaustion.

At the end she was almost too weak to let Tamlen’s fragile body down into the hole, along with a branch she’d broken off a nearby tree. She had to arrange his limbs as much as she could so that it would fit. Once he was nestled into his resting place, Isun and her covered him back up with dirt, watching as Tamlen disappeared for the last time. What remained was only a little mound to mark the spot.

And just like that she was left the last witness of that day.

A bit deliriously, Serket scratched the mabari behind the ears, hoping that the gesture could convey her gratitude when it was all she could give right now. Soon she’d have to leave, go find the others again and find a way to pretend this hadn’t happened. There was one last rite before that that she could give to her friend.

“ O Falon'Din. Lethanavir – Friend to the Dead. Guide my feet, calm my soul. Lead me to my rest.”

The prayer was one to speak for a hahren, not somebody like her, but perhaps Falon’Din would excuse the emergency.

Serket averted her eyes upwards to the sky, the night still dark but bound to light up soon. It seemed like the right time to collapse and fall into a grave of her own. Where everything had been aching before, her body was numb now.

Isun, stubbornly loyal, wouldn’t let her. He lead the way for her as she stumbled along the path, yelping and barking at her each time she was threatening to lose her balance, pacing nervously around her each time she stopped.

“Serket?”

The sound of her name startled like she’d been caught out. Instinctively she attempted to correct her posture to appear more like herself again, glaring at the intruder without any teeth left to bite at him with.

Zevran didn’t seem to even flinch, putting up his hands defensively. “I came here to meet you half way, not to spy on you. I didn’t see anything.”

Serket had no words for him. Why should she believe it. And why would it matter, if he was still looking at her now. Maybe he hadn’t seen the deed itself, but she still felt raw and exposed in a way she didn’t want to be in front of him. It was stupid enough the first time, by now it was nothing short of humiliating. The normal thing would be to keep walking. So she did that as well as she could, nearly tripping over her own feet when she brushed past him. With each step the weight of his gaze seemed to grow heavier; he caught her when her legs gave in.

This was so mundane. They’d supported each other like this before, when the fight didn’t go like they’d planned and they leaned on the other to walk in a simple act of camaraderie. He was too close now, too personal, but even she recognized that struggling would do nothing to help her. Don’t strip back another layer of skin now.

“Comfortable?” Zevran said in a misplaced jovial tone. Thank the creators. A million times better than feeling, than those looks.

“How long” she asked, the last words of the question coming out silent. She coughed, nearly throwing them both off balance.

“Not far” Zevran replied, “just a bit further down this path. Think we can manage that?”

A nod had to suffice as answer. It was difficult enough to move her legs when she couldn’t feel them. ‘Not far’ only told her that they’d be back sooner than she would be alright, even if time was more than relative in this moment. What was a journey to her could have been only a few minutes on foot. Tamlen was drifting years away from her now, maybe a whole life.

Serket looked around, hoping that something would catch her eye that could give her an excuse to stay behind just a little longer, so she wouldn’t be in this pitiful state when she’d have to face them. She needed to pull herself together.

“Set me down here” she commanded abruptly.

Zevran halted, but didn’t let her go just yet. “What for?”

Whether he was planning on releasing her or not, Serket tried to shake him off so she could be back on her own feet, transfixed by what she’d spotted partially concealed by tall grass. It wouldn’t get better than this river to make her inhabit the self she needed to be again. “A bath. I’m covered in filth.”

Without awaiting her companion’s response she staggered off the path the others had taken, clumsily trying to undo the bands of her breastplate but barely catching them between her fingers. There wasn’t even frustration anymore or despair, just helplessness.

Zevran kept to her side like a judgmental mosquito. She could see him eyeing her with a tilted head, anticipating the moment he might try to block her and guide her back to the flock. He snorted. “Well, maybe not such a bad idea.” They made it to the edge of the river, the water lapping at her boots. She still was clad in her armor, too uncoordinated to undo any of it.

“May I…?” Zevran started, stretching out his hands towards where she was fiddling with a clasp, hovering inches away. It felt cheap to agree, like giving in to a vice rather than accepting relief. Even though Zevran was thoughtful. There was nothing overbearingly personal about it as he helped her out of the bloodied metal and leather and the stained fabric she’d worn underneath. Only gentle assistance for a companion, as though for this brief period this was the most mundane thing in the world. Nothing more complicated than that.

Free of her armor and no thought spared to modesty she could observe the extend of the damage. Compression marks that would become bruises if not for Wynne’s interference with the process, putrid smears of darkspawn blood all over her hands and forearms, she could feel splatters of the taint dried up on her face.

Serket clicked her tongue, and Isun who had been rolling around in the grass approached her excitedly. She bent down and held out her arms to allow the mabari to lick off the blood as she half-remembered that the poison would otherwise wash into the water along with her.

At Zevran’s bemused expression she only replied “It’s okay. He’s already tainted.” Then she waded into the dark river, the coldness of the water knocking the breath out of her. As she gasped for air, her senses were sharpened to a needle-point, rammed right into her brain. Despite the shock she willed herself to get in just a little further, just a little deeper, before at long last she let her legs break away from under her. She landed in the water with a little splash in an awkward sitting position; the cold squeezed tight around her, agonizing in a way that made sense to her.

“You can go” she called, drawing her maltreated legs to her chest.

“Shouldn’t I stay?” Zevran answered without hesitation. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“What for.”

“If I come back without you, the other grey warden might get suspicious of me, don’t you think? Yes, I think he’s been waiting for a moment like this.”

Serket shot him a wary look over her shoulder.

The grin on Zevran’s face fell a little, but stubbornly clung to a corner of his mouth. “‘Where is the warden, hm?’ You see, I left her alone in the river, nothing that could go wrong there.” He didn’t say anything for a while as the current tugged softly at Serket. “…I think it might be less awkward if we returned together. Less questions asked, for both of us.”

Somehow, Serket wanted to cry again. She only hummed. Because she loved him. She loved Zevran, pathetically. That’s why his gaze was hardest to bear and yet the only one she wanted. Even after he made it clear she was alone in this and she’d concealed the bleeding wound from him and steeled her heart. His gentleness, the way he didn’t recoil made it worse. The light of the waning stars gleamed on the water surface, little spots that danced distractingly before her eyes.

Zevran was permitted to stay, the damage was done anyway. Couldn’t even be trusted to bathe in the river by herself because of how she’d expended herself. The way they’d see her wouldn’t be the same anymore. And she was terrified of seeing her own face reflected, not wanting to know who she’d find there. Was it cowardice? To not want to be seen as frail.

Ah… the discrepancy had only grown bigger. With halting movements she curled in on herself, leaning forward so that her face was submerged. Dull pangs of pain rang out in her chest the oxygen slowly went out, drowning out her thoughts. She wished she could compress this ache, could grab it with her two hands and press it to her chest so it could stay close and private with her. She wanted to bury the memory of Tamlen deep under her skin so darkspawn couldn’t get it. She wanted to wring the neck of any feeling that could make her this brittle again. So swallow it down.

“There was a hunter in my clan” she spoke when she pulled back, sluggishly blinking away the water running into her eyes, “who went to investigate some elven ruins he’d come across, without telling the keeper about it. In the end he contracted the taint and never returned to us.” She began scrubbing away at her skin, noting that she couldn’t get the soil out from under her nails even as everything else washed off. “So now he asked me to kill him.”

“Death was a mercy for him” Zevran’s voice sounded distant. “Though I suppose somebody you know asking you to kill them is not particularly pleasant.”

“I don’t feel guilty” she replied, trying to get up again, “since he was in essence already dead. What he was asking for was a burial, so I gave him one. …I overreacted, a little.”

By the shore, her companion had crouched down and was splashing a bit of water in his face. A long night for him too. “Oh, I’ve seen people do worse. No knives were pulled on me, for one, which has happened. But of course, that time I’d have been the one who did the killing” he said cheerfully with a shrug of his shoulder, moving aside a bit for her as she got back on land.

The bath hadn’t done her physical condition any favors, shivering rather than shaking now. Patiently Zevran helped her put her garments back on even if they undid some of the good of the bath. Her armor was left in the bushes. Somebody could come pick it up for her while she rested. And her sword and shield? None of them could go there. It was a burial site now. Zevran only laughed. Tomorrow was another day. Who was going to steal her things? The shriek Sten nearly cleaved in half? She knew what he was doing, clumsy in this matter as she herself was. Gratitude and shame swelled in her chest in equal measures.

Zevran shouldered her once more as they continued onwards. Nature around them was beginning to wake and even as the fog in her mind had grown heavier and her eyes unfocused, she could make out the camp up ahead. With every step, Serket took on more of her own weight while Isun already charged ahead.

“Don’t treat me differently now. Please don’t treat me differently, not you” she mumbled, her hand still on his shoulder.

Zevran didn’t reply right away. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The call of an owl rung out through the quiet of the night.

#dragon age #female warden #zevran ariani #zevran x mahariel #tamlen #female mahariel #dragon age fanfiction #just throwing this out there haha #i die

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todisturbtheuniverse · 3 years

Text

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [7/9]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 2200 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine’s life brings Adaar’s feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn’t quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven’t read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one. Chapter-specific note: I did not intend to leave this hanging for six months, but 2020 comes for us all, I suppose. I hope, if you're still reading, that you enjoy the conclusion. All of the remaining chapters (7-9) are up on AO3; they’ll be posted more slowly here on tumblr so as not to clog your dashboards.

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

"See," Adaar said, pointing, "we’re nearly there."

She leaned a little to the left in her saddle, closer to Josephine, giving her a better trajectory to follow. Josephine's eyes narrowed, searching. At this distance, the landmark was still hard to make out if you didn’t know what you were looking for.

"Strange," Josephine said. "That star appears to be moving."

"Dancing," Adaar corrected. "The old windmill is still lit. There must be someone left." At Josephine's perplexed look, she explained, "The windmill’s practically center of town. Someone got the idea way back when to keep a brazier lit at the top. Like a lighthouse, kind of. Instead of bringing ships in to port, it guided the farmers and herders into town at the end of the day. When you’re closer in, it’s a good way for the neighborhood watch to mark where they’re patrolling overnight, too. From far off, though, it just looks like a dancing star."

Josephine nodded. "Clever. And if it’s still lit…"

"I can’t see bandits bothering to tend it, can you?"

"That depends on the breed of bandit." Josephine’s mare whickered, and she patted its mane absently. "I think this tells us something about what might be happening in Duskfield. Either your old neighbors have already driven the bandits off, and things have returned to normal...or the bandits have taken up residence here, kept all the old habits in place, so that your farmers and shepherds might keep operating. If that’s the case, they’re after some kind of long-term stability and supply."

"And that could be good or bad," Adaar agreed. "Maybe they’re just folk driven to desperation by the current unpleasantness."

"Or maybe they are Red Templars, establishing new routes through the Free Marches while we have been busy elsewhere." Josephine glanced sidelong at Adaar. "Rest assured I do not plan to negotiate with them, should that be the case."

Adaar forced a thin laugh. "I expected as much." She looked ahead again, at the Dancing Star, trying to find something red in the flicker of its light. It was still too far to tell; it looked perfectly normal, just as she remembered it, yellowish in hue.

And if she did see a bit of red? More easily attributed to her imagination, fear, and anxiety. At this distance, it could be nothing else.

"If it’s an entire band," Josephine said, her voice lowering, "will you be able to manage on your own?"

Adaar glanced behind her, at Cassandra and Bull and Dorian, all riding quiet and alert. "We’ve managed an awful lot," she said. "And we could still run into Leliana’s people. There's some road left to go. If we don’t find them, I’ll sneak ahead to see what we’re working with before we go charging in."

"Is that wise? If you’re caught—"

"Would you rather send one of them?" Adaar asked, jerking her thumb at the others.

"I heard that," Bull said.

Adaar ignored him. "Cassandra makes a noise of incredible menace with every step she takes. Bull's worse, like a small earthquake. And Dorian can’t keep his mouth shut if there’s an opening for a witty quip."

"She’s right," Dorian said easily. "Adaar is the sneakiest giant you’ll ever meet. And that rates somewhat above the rest of us."

Josephine didn't look convinced. Worse, she looked afraid. Adaar tipped her head, silently asking Josephine to follow her ahead, out of earshot. The others kept to their own pace, allowing the road to spread out between them.

"Not reassured?" Adaar asked.

"I don’t doubt your skills. I just…" Josephine's fingers tightened on the reins. "If you’re caught, what then?"

"We’ll figure out the exact timeframe when we get closer, but if I’m not back in, say, an hour, the others can ride to the rescue."

"Has that ever happened before?"

Adaar figured it was best to be honest, but casual. "Sure."

Josephine’s lips thinned; she didn’t reply. Someone else in Adaar’s boots might’ve seen this as a good opportunity for comeuppance. They’d taken care of Josephine’s assassins her way, and Adaar had lost a month’s worth of sleep in the process. Josephine would get a little taste of her own medicine.

But Adaar had never been accused of vengefulness. The idea of Josephine fretting down the road behind her only made her feel vaguely queasy and sad.

"Don’t get caught," Josephine said at last.

Adaar inclined her head. "I’ll do my level best."

"You have to remember that they chose Duskfield," Josephine went on. "Maybe it’s random, maybe they are just desperate people, but it seems an awful coincidence. If anyone bothered to learn enough about you, to try to lure you out, this is how they would do it."

"If it’s a trap, I have a light step. I won’t spring it."

Josephine gave a despairing laugh. "If there’s an opening for a witty quip, are you certain that you will be able to restrain yourself?"

"In all things that matter, I am the picture of restraint."

She'd meant to sound cheerful; instead, the words were a little sour, and she turned her face away before her expression could add to the unintended effect. She didn't want to give Josephine another opening to make her case, not yet. Despite her words, her restraint had been wearing very thin indeed since their conversation on the road to Val Royeaux. One good snip would destroy those last tenuous threads.

But Josephine did not sound disappointed or angry when she replied, simply, "I know."

For a moment, Adaar thought she would leave it at that. They rode in the quiet, to the soft sounds of horses, for plenty of hoofbeats.

Then Josephine asked, "I've been wondering, how long have you...cared...about me?"

Adaar didn't have to answer. The question was put forward tentatively, feeling for where the boundary line was. Josephine would have understood if Adaar reminded her of her promise, the promise of space to think.

But thinking, so far, had gotten her nowhere. She kept chasing it round and round in her head, ever since that night on the road to Val Royeaux. She slept with her head pillowed on the shawl Josephine had left with her, and breathed her scent, and could not stop wanting, no matter how much she wished to. Maybe a little talk wouldn't hurt.

"Too long," she said. "Embarrassingly long. Well before we left Haven."

She looked back to Josephine, who smiled and ducked her head, as if to hide it. "Me, too."

The words struck Adaar like a slap, rendering her speechless. She hunted for what to say, how to react, and came up with nothing more original than, "Really?"

"You sound surprised." There was a teasing note in Josephine's voice now.

"Well, you just didn't…" Adaar floundered. "I don't know. You didn't seem interested."

"Leliana has said that I was being dense," Josephine admitted, with as much dignity as could be mustered with such a sentence. "I only thought that...your attention was split so many ways. You had—have—a great deal to worry about. I didn't think there would be time. And if there was, I didn't see why you would choose to spend it with me."

Adaar shook her head, exasperated. "We’re a pair, aren’t we?"

"I certainly hope so," Josephine said archly, but her smile faded again as she looked ahead to the Dancing Star. "When this is over, can we revisit the issue of restraint?"

"Lady Montilyet," Adaar said, all feigned astonishment, "I had no idea your desires ran that way."

It had the intended effect. Josephine lost her worry again, face flushing, hand coming up to cover a surprised laugh. Adaar grinned, reveling in her small victory. It would help, for what was to come. It would carry her through to the other side.

"Don't worry," she added, squinting at the Dancing Star. "I have a plan."

The good news: they weren't Red Templars.

Adaar had been gone from home so long that there were people in the village she didn't recognize or know, but she'd gotten good at distinguishing peasant from combatant; she observed carefully from her rooftop perch by The Wet Whistle's chimney stack, and she counted. It wasn't just about who wore armor, who carried weapons. It was body language, alertness. It was the berth that others gave them.

She'd arrived too late to count the bandits as they went into the tavern, but she counted them as they came out—and as a patrol cut through town and continued to the north. These ones carried obvious weapons, and they didn't sway when they walked. They were professional enough to keep their heads clear on duty.

Duskfield was a small village, and this company was enough to keep them cowed. She'd counted eight so far; she was sure there were more she was missing. She just wasn't sure what to do about them.

The bad news: she knew some of them.

Only three, that she'd spotted and recognized. Old neighbors, around her age: Vilya, the blacksmith's daughter; Cossus, her younger brother; Herbert, one of the farmer's sons. He'd been friends with the other two, she remembered.

The others were strangers to her, but they held themselves with more confidence than these three by far. Had they been recruited? What had convinced them to allow these mercenaries to occupy the town, to throw their lot in with them?

She didn't have time in the hour allocated to her to figure out why they were here. She only knew she didn't like the occasional raucous laughter spilling from the tavern below her, or the way the rest of her old neighbors flinched out of the way when one of the rogues stalked past. They were not starving and desperate. They were hungry, but they were waiting.

And there was no sign of Leliana's people. They were on their own.

It was time to return to her companions. She'd learned what she could, precious little though it was, and maybe they would have better ideas. Josephine had spun gold out of less before. Delicately, silently, she crept down the roof and lowered herself to the ground.

Her feet had barely touched down before the point of a sword pricked at her spine. "Not so fast, Inquisitor."

She considered her options. Two shapes in the shadows of the barrels ahead of her formed up and revealed themselves to be people. They, too, held swords, so that was three—at minimum. She'd won out over worse odds before.

But she'd missed these three watching her. What else had she missed? She didn't want to get chin-deep in a fight where she didn't know the stakes. Maybe they needed her alive, but maybe they were happy to dogpile and kill her.

She didn't know enough. Damn it.

"A welcoming party," she said. "Nice of you. I wasn't expecting such a fuss—"

The point of the sword jabbed harder. She sighed and stopped talking.

"I can't believe you actually showed," the voice behind her said. "When Moiraine pitched this idea to me, I almost punched her. 'Moiraine,' I said, 'she's Qunari, what does she care about a bunch of human cattle in some nowhere village?' But tales kept spreading about you—how you'd stick your neck out for any refugee needing a blanket, even if they'd spit on the ground as you walked past." He spit on her boot, for emphasis. Nice aim. "Started to see the potential. Still, though. Didn't expect you to be stupid enough to take the bait."

He lapsed into silence. Adaar waited a moment, then said, "Just let me know when you actually need my input. Hard to tell if there was a question in there. I'm kind of slow, as you've figured out."

"Watch her," the voice said, and yanked her hands around to bind them behind her back. She resisted the urge to fight, mind working frantically. Did she know a Moiraine-the-bandit? No, she was fairly sure she didn't. Did she know any Moiraine? She didn't think she'd ever heard the name before.

"Now," he said, yanking her daggers roughly from her back, "we're going to get comfortable and wait for your friends to come along. Then we'll have a nice little chat, and everyone can go home happy."

"My favorite part of the day," Adaar muttered.

Well, technically, at least, this was still part of the plan. Things had just accelerated somewhat. She was sure the others could work out the rest.

She'd been captured before, bound before. She stayed alert, but let her mind turn to more pleasant things. In similar situations, she'd thought of Josephine. She'd thought, Well, we didn't have much of a chance, anyway. She'd thought, Maybe, if we'd had more time…

This time, though, she thought of Josephine's stately walk, of the fire burning in her eyes, of her sharp and clever tongue. She thought of Josephine riding to her rescue, and she smiled.

#josephine montilyet #inquisitor adaar #f!adaar x josephine #f!adaar/josephine #dragon age #inquisition #friends to lovers #class differences #mutual pining #developing relationship #universe writes

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wombatpumpkin · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Title: Paired

Fandoms: Dragon Age

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Tags: Modern Thedas AU, Dating App AU, Graduate School AU, Academic Rivals to Lovers

Now, I may look like a sad and lonely hobo, but I can assure you, ladies, that I am not. Beneath this poor excuse for a sense of fashion beats the heart of a wolf on the prowl and ready for love. When I’m not reading, that is.

You Paired with Solas on 9:40 Guardian 14 at 9:10AM

Today at 9:17AM

Me: Hello, Solas.

“That’s it?” Josie leaned over Aya’s shoulder, peering at the message she’d just fired off. Aya could feel Josie deflating. “That is all you’re going to say?”

“What? What’s wrong with that?” Aya asked, looking back at the message and trying to figure what on earth could be wrong with ‘hello’.

“You have to sound alluring! Make it spicy,” Josephine said with an indignant huff.

“Gotta tickle their balls a little bit, eh?” smirked Aya. Josephine tipped her forehead into her palms and groaned.

“Please... do not say it like that,” she pleaded like a woman who’d lived and seen too much.

“I don’t have to be alluring at all. Half the guys on here are just looking for a hook-up,” Aya said, waggling her eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I could say I have a fungal growth and still find somebody to bang by evening.”

“She has a point, Josie,” Leliana said from across the cafe table, nodding as she finished her coffee. Josie apparently disagreed, folding her arms tightly over her chest as she glared at Leliana. “Let her talk about her fungal growths. It’s the profile picture that will do all the talking. You did pick her a good one, yes?”

“Of course!” Josie scoffed. “And do not encourage her! Really, Aya, you have to be more tantalizing. You’ll never get a date with just a ‘hello’.”

“You signed me up, remember? All these ‘Likes’ are for people you picked,” Aya shot back. “Maybe I don’t want them to reply. And I still don’t think dating apps are the best way to meet somebody.”

“It’s a ‘Swipe’, not a ‘Like’,” Josephine corrected with a sigh. ”And I simply found you a few men who I think may be to your taste. What about him?” Josie poked Aya’s phone screen and opened up the chat.

“You mean ‘Thom’? Isn’t that a lot of beard?”

“Here, give me!” Josie said reaching over the poor woman and plucking the phone away before she could protest. “This is how you send an alluring message.”

Leliana laughed and shook her head. “You are incorrigible, Josie. I’m getting a second coffee,” she said, getting up.

“Me too.” Aya got up as well, frowning after Josephine who was Cyrano de Bergerac-ing away. “She’s not going to stop until I have a date, is she?”

“Nope. It’s better just to leave her to it?” Leliana said quietly, tugging Aya along to place an order. I wrinkled my nose.

“I wish she wouldn’t. I don’t want these guys thinking I talk that well,” Aya said, scratching her nose and frowning over her shoulder at Josie. Leliana chuckled.

“You speak and write plenty well,” she said as they shuffled along. “When you put your mind to it at least. I’ve read your papers.”

“Well, that’s different. You have to write well in graduate school or they don’t let you graduate.”

“Fair point, I suppose. Still, those skills are transferable.”

“Nope. If it’s not school related, my brain powers down.” Aya shifted her stance, tilting the tote bag on her hip so Leliana caught a glimpse of it. It read All I Do is Fucking Read on the side. Leliana grinned. “Those men will be lucky to get a full sentence.”

“To each’s own, ” she said. “Do you think you’ll ever read or write for pleasure once you’ve graduated?”

“After a few years, maybe?” Aya said uncertainly. “My mistake for pursuing a degree in the social sciences. My poor dyslexic brain feels a lot like scrambled eggs.”

“What do you have planned tonight, then?” Leliana asked. They were a person away from ordering. “It is Valentines Day, after all. Any plans?”

“Well, after I get a little more work done on my thesis, I have my internship until five. Then... I guess it’s just an evening to myself.”

“A rare night, indeed. Savor it for me.”

“What do you have planned?” They started ordering.

“One coffee please, small and black,” Leliana said, reaching for her purse. Aya pulled out hers, trying to nudge Leliana out of the way as she ordered but fumbled on the card draw.

“Caramel latte for me, decaf.” Leliana swooped in and dipped her chip into the reader. Aya narrowed her eyes. She would get her next time.

Leliana continued as if nothing had happened. “I have a date, of course! Cousland got us a fancy reservation at a restaurant across town. It’s apparently very hard to get in. I have my shoes all picked out.”

Aya and Leliana moved down the counter and waited for our drinks to be ready. The air smelled like freshly ground coffee beans, oozing chocolate, and butter from their fresh pastries. I immediately regretted not ordering a croissant.

“And the rest of your outfit?” Aya said, raising her eyebrows. “Or is it a shoes only kind of place?” Leliana giggled.

“If only we could go somewhere as bold as that,” she replied, eyes dancing. “But I’ve chosen my red dress, the one with the silver beading in the waist. She loves that dress, as do I.”

The barista passed them the steaming drinks; Aya’s had a little foam heart in it that made her smile. The pair took their drinks back to the table, and Josie was still furiously texting. Aya chewed her lip in concern.

“How’s the damage?” Aya asked Josie as she sat down and disturbed the foam art piece as she took a sip. They used real caramel here, not some chemical crap from a pump. Aya’s lips felt sticky with sugar, and she hummed happily.

“I have a date set up for you tonight,” Josephine replied, not looking up. “I’m just setting the time and place. You’re done with your internship at five, correct?”

“Wait, seriously? With who? And yes, five.”

“Thom, of course. And I shall tell him to meet you at The Herald’s Square at seven o’clock.”

“Oh,” Aya said and smiled brightly. “Wow, I actually have a date.”

Leliana laughed and Josephine tossed the phone back at Aya from across the table. Aya caught it between her palms and flicked open the app, reading through the conversation. She groaned.

“He’s going to expect a frilly poet,” Aya complained. Josie batted away my comment but glowed a little at the compliment.

“He is...rather dashing,” she sighed a little wistfully. Aya raised an eyebrow and shut down the app.

“You sure you’d rather not go instead?”

“No, no, no! He is expecting you. You go and have a lovely time, truly.” Josephine beamed at Aya and exchanged conspiratorial looks with Leliana. Aya sighed heavily and took another sip of her caramel drink. And so a frilly poet she would be.

Authors Note: This is a short excerpt from a WIP I’ve been working on sporadically as I write some of my other fics. It’ll eventually go up on my A03, but I want to get a bit farther along before I start posting chapters. Any way, here is the sneak peak :)

#Dragon Age Fanfiction #WIP Wednesday #Dragon Age WIP #Solas x Lavellan

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fancytrinkets · 3 years

Text

Rumors (Trevelyan/Dorian) - a friendly chat with Vivienne

posting little scenes from my DAI fic is fun so I'm going to keep doing it. the context is a mage Trevelyan/Dorian romance.

Galen Trevelyan has a stack of reports to read, compiled by Josephine and Leliana. Within their pages is everything he needs to know about Orlesian politics and the imperial court.

"Commit all of this to memory," Leliana told him the other day as she handed over the intimidatingly thick pile of documents, "or the nobility will tear you to pieces."

He's grateful that she's given him time enough to review everything thoroughly. He'll take it all with him on the road to the Exalted Plains. But since he's always been a reasonably good student — and old habits die hard — he's getting started on it early.

He's sitting comfortably on one of the balconies in the keep's upper level. He's got a nice chair, a little table, and he's eating a generous slice of sweet custard pie, which he grabbed from the kitchen moments ago. All in all, it's not bad for a study session. And better than a council meeting by a longshot.

"I trust you're enjoying yourself, my dear?"

It's Vivienne's voice from right behind him. She's remarkably stealthy when it suits her. And of course she would catch him right now, with his mouth full and the last bite of pie crust in hand. Her greeting, no doubt, is deployed to critique his behavior. He's fairly certain he's violating at least two or three standards of proper decorum by sitting here, in a relatively public space, and eating a dessert while poring over documents.

"The custard is delicious," he says after he's finished chewing and is again able to speak politely. "I highly recommend it."

She laughs, melodious and clear.

"No, darling, I don't mean whatever it is you're doing at this moment."

She walks to the balcony and then turns to face him, resting her elbows gracefully against the high railing behind her.

"I'm referring, of course, to your not-so-clandestine affair with your Tevinter companion."

Of course, he thinks, I should have known.

Fortunately, he has anticipated this conversation. With Vivienne, it was bound to happen sooner or later. And it's probably best to get it over with sooner.

He sets down the pie crust, resting it on the plate he took from the kitchen. He wants to make his point without being needlessly rude. And it's a notable breach of etiquette to be caught with food in hand while one's conversation partner has no food of their own.

He can play by her rules when he wants to.

"It's not an optimal situation, politically speaking," he says. "I do understand that."

"Not well enough. If your goal has been to sabotage your own image, well done. Otherwise, what were you possibly thinking?"

She isn't playing word games or dancing around the issue. And that's a good thing, he's sure of it. The candor of her criticism means she respects him enough to deliver it to his face in a forthright manner.

"Vivienne, I'm sorry," Galen says. "But this is among my priorities. And I don't foresee that changing."

"Oh?" She stops, blinks, and sounds surprised.

It's rare to see her fall speechless in response to anything. She recovers quickly, of course, but the significance of the moment isn't lost on him.

"Then this is no trifling dalliance based on his fashionable good looks and your lack of other options?"

"No, it isn't that."

"I see. And I admit, I did not realize."

She pauses for a second, as though carefully considering her next words.

"I'm not in favor," she says. "You know I couldn't possibly be. But I will withhold further commentary of my own, and endeavor to silence rumors where they appear. That's the most I can offer."

"That's more than I'd hoped for, to be honest."

She smiles at him with what seems — to Galen, at least — to be a sad sort of kindness.

So, he thinks, she has a heart, after all.

He's glad to catch a glimpse of it for once.

#dragon age inquisition fanfic #dorian x inquisitor #vivienne de fer #vivienne dragon age #madam de fer #mage trevelyan #galen trevelyan

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your-shield-of-love · 4 years

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The disbanded Inquisition members looked out from the balcony, the last Inquisitor looking to the future and their family taking in the view.

"Leliana." A small voice called out to her, all the members recognised the voice but Leliana was the first to look at her. Kalle Sabrae, Hero of Fereldan, Warden Commander of Fereldan and the Warden who fixed the Wardens, stood in the middle of the doorway.

Her eyes warm and teary, only looking at her love. Before Kalle could open her mouth to say something, Leliana dashed to her, the Divine hat falling off, which Cole quickly caught. The couple embraced, Kalle lifting Leliana off the ground to spin her for a few moments. They kiss, having missed eachother since Kalle had visited Skyhold last - a year ago. "I missed you." Kalle breathed, smirking nervously, "Sorry I couldn't see you sooner."

Leliana has her arms wrapped around Kalle's neck, slowly loosening the grip and smiling, "I thought you would have at least written. Or I would have received reports on where you were."

Kalle laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck, "Well, your people wouldn't have been looking for a plain raven that wasn't theirs." She looked away from Leliana, smiling to the group and her eyes landing on Varric before she pulled Leliana back to them. "I would have wrote but you know me, always planning secret missions and going through with them with no warning." The couple stops at the centre of them, beside the Inquisitor.

Leliana laughs, shaking her head at Kalle, realising her hat appeared on her head without realising. "Thank you, Cole." Leliana smiles, Cole nodding to her.

"You're welcome. Would you like my hat?" Cole offers to Kalle who smiles, but shakes her head.

"No spoilers, but advise would be good?" She tilts her head to Cole, who she wrote to when she also wrote to Leliana, and was friends with him.

"The news they need to hear first, they can hear your happiness afterwards. It would hurt a bit if it was the other way around." Cole spoke to her, Kalle smiled at the advice and looked to the group. "I have someone I need you all to come see." Kalle let's go of Leliana's hands and guides the groups to the infirmary, the staff parting to let the group through and before the staff opens the doors, Kalle holds her hands up.

"Wait a moment, please." She turned to the companions, arms placed behind her back and they knew she meant business. "There are a few things you need to know."

Leliana tells the staff within the room to leave, when they do, she nods to Kalle.

"After defeating the blight, things that were like the rifts appeared." Kalle began,

"I'm sure we've had this conversation before." The Inquisitor teased.

Sera jumped in, "Aye we have, so just tell us quickly, no background stuff!"

Varric laughed, "Buttercup, a good story needs details. Continue." He waves his arms to Kalle, who smiles relaxed in return as thanks, which he hummed at. He also stepped forward to her, the two had gotten to know eachother pretty well since Kalle appeared in Kirkwall all those years ago and he knew she preferred friends close when nervous, Varric wondered if she'd consider coming to Kirkwall for a holiday? He had yet to show off how Kirkwall changed and he could imagine Kalle would be thrilled with how it was developing. She could maybe give pointers too, since she helped Fereldan rebuild. Though Hawke would have been more excited about how Kirkwall had improved, though they would have complained that there wasn't enough danger anymore or maybe they wouldn't?

Kalle continued, "Well, I'll make this short. I could close rifts and such back then but um, what I didn't tell you... Was that when I was on the way to Skyhold, I closed a rift..." she looked guilty, "I'm sorry I didn't say but, I had my duty to the Wardens." She bowed her head slightly and before she or anyone could say anything,

"Rain pouring, 'no one around to see or be be hurt if it goes wrong'. Foot raised like before, the kick that closes the rift. Fear, worry, happiness, responsibility but you already had those. It's okay you didn't say, the Inquisitor had already planned to close it. It's good that you don't have more weight." Cole spoke, standing beside Kalle and patting her shoulder, "Doubt, sadness, guilt. You could have done more but it would have been wrong. You would have become broken and you needed to keep together. You did good." Kalle smiles sadly but relieved at him, pulling him into a hug.

"Thank you." Kalle and Cole spoke, making her laugh. They pulled apart and she looked across the group to see if anyone else had anything to say.

"It's alright, continue." Inquisitor smiled, wondering where this was going.

"So um... After Hawke," she paused, "I wondered if I could," The air became tense, "Open a rift." Varric watched her, pain and hope sparking within him, "It didn't work." Her eyes dropped to the floor, "I was... really fucking upset and pissed. I thought about asking you," she looked to the Inquisitor before raising her head again, "But I knew if you could ... then you would have." Kalle sighs, "But my stubborn ass wanted to make sure. To check. But I had to return to my crew, they needed my information and thoughts. I also had to prepare for them to kick Warden ass when we got back. So I left, did all that but... 8 months ago I returned to Fereldan."

Leliana interrupted, "And you didn't say anything?"

A frown started on Kalle's face, "No, I was going to but... I knew if I did, you would stop me." Her face grew serious, determination blazing in her eyes. "I couldn't let you or anyone stop me, so... I went to Adamant." Varric had her full attention, he didn't want hope or bad news or... but what if Hawke was rescued? Recovering in the infirmary behind Kalle? He held himself back. He was afraid to hope, 'and kid, don't say anything'. Cole fingered at that. "I waited till it was early morning, just before the morning watch would have started and... turned back into myself. I stood where the rift was before. I thought of Hawke and..." she swallowed, "I opened a rift. For the first time." Her hands fidgeted, "I closed it behind me, don't worry."

Varric stood wide eyed at her, she turned to him.

"I spent, 7 and a half months looking." She looked grim at first, flinching at whatever she had went through, Leliana reaching out and was about to give her trouble when she laughs slightly. "The big demon you mentioned? Destroyed. No demon in sight for most of my time there... I started to realise as I went along, that there were markers, placeholder on areas. Bodies of demons and such, laying in a particular way. The fear demon was the centre point. So I followed along the signs, there were long paths and I could tell why the length of my hair that it had been 6 months by the time I reached the last path..." Kalle smiles warmly at Varric, another tear in her eyes.

"You found her." Varric hoped, Kalle nodded. Kalle had at least found Marian's body. And at best... He stared at the doors behind her. There was a reason she didn't just open the doors to them.

"Found her, sitting and speaking to Spirits. Definitely not demons, spirits who were to weak to possess her mind but helped her stay sane. When she saw me, she thought I was a demon, she almost beat the shit out of me." Kalle grinned, "The spirits intervened, saying I was real, in the fade with her. A took her about two weeks to be convinced and only believed me when I told her to kill me if she thought I was a demon. Time is different there, your body doesn't need sleep as much and well, as a mage I never ran out of energy... it was disorienting." She shook her head, a sign she thought she was rambling.

"You mean Red was ... fucking shit fuck!" Sera shouted, looking both angry and guilty. Her and a lot if the patrons that were at the tavern grew close to Hawke. Iron Bull grumbled about the fade shit and how he hoped she was alright.

"Well... We got out, about a month and half ago. We ended up a few miles from my safe house." She itched the back of her head, "Which was good because it meant Hawke and myself could recover there for a bit. Or that was the plan. Instead we stayed for a month, then travelled here. Hawke is... they sometimes just space out, break things or have a full breakdown when they feel they're still in the fade. She will struggle with this for a time, so... I think it's best if you want to see her, to do so in small groups. Not alone and not too many." Kalle pats Varrics shoulder. His brain couldn't catch up with his mouth, so much to say and shit... He wanted to see Marian.

"Kid," Varric spoke, "You're with me." Cole nods.

"I'm coming with!" Sera stepped forward, she turns to Iron Bull-

"The Iron Bull?" He looks to Cole, "They are.. the arishok has hurt them in the fade, more than enough times. You should be yourself, not careful or quiet." Iron Bull winked in surprise, before smirking.

Cassandra steps forward, "May I?" She asks Varric, he nods.

"Thanks, Cassandra." He says, making her smile and nod. The four opened the door together and Varric stepped in first.

Hawke always went with they and them pronouns. At first he and him, so that growing up without Malcolm, she could get more jobs but it didn't feel right. Eventually they became happy with being they rather than he or she, though if someone called her she it didn't bother her. Just didn't feel right. Like how you find a dress and realise, 'fuck it, waistcoats for life'. They stood at the window doors, looking at the view and wished they could go fo the balcony. But the staff, and herself worried she'd jump or... the doors opened behind her. Kalle told them she'd get their friends to come visit. They fidgeted with their long hair, they knew they had been in the fade for just over 3 years. Kalle didn't hesitate to tell her, Kalle never lied to anymore unless it was necessary, and even then Kalle didn't like to lie for too long. After defeating the fear demon, Hawke chopped their hair to be short. As they did everytime she felt lost, lost someone or something - like Kirkwall, or on the rare occasion, when she started her life anew. Like after a year of being in servitude, she cut her hair. Now it was long, pulled into a thick ponytail, Kalle had used her mana to make sure no bobble would snap.

They turned and saw, a wheeling Varric. Their gut told then it wasn't him. That this Varric would either be a desire demon again (after like the millionth fucking time), or a despair demon, taunting and using his face to try get them to hate the person they loved most. No despair demon dared after the mess and warning she left. They had to kill fake Varric's more than once and often times had other Varric's shoot at them. Though it wasn't the first time, the first time the actual Varric shot at them. Though he was under the influence.

"Sat by the fire, papers in one hand, quill in the other. Spectacles on and he smiles. Too warm, too hot. 'I'll burn. Is this it? Is this what Papa Dragon told me? When I think of him and think 'this is it?'." Cole spoke, appearing in the room, Hawke smiled subtly at the memory. A memory they forgot because they got scared. It was before the expedition, they had pushed the thoughts and feelings away because they didn't want to get hurt.

Hawke sighs, "You owe me 10 sovereigns." They held their hand out to the Iron Bull, a grin growing on their face. He let out a hearty laugh but Varric held the hand they held out. He stared into their eyes, Hawke looked to him. "I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say before. Not really, anyway." They pulled the dwarf into a hug, Varric pulled his head out from their chest to look up, he was shocked but he cried. Hawke rubbed at his cheeks, he let out a whimper, gripping onto her.

"I... You come back, I plan on giving you a lesson and you just say I love you?" They panic, hoping they didn't fuck something up again, they let out a shaky breath but before they can question anything. "Of course you would." Varric grins brightly, eyes open and tears falling. "I love you, Marian." The two hold eachother.

Iron Bull, after a few moments taps Marian's shoulder. They and Varric look up, he's holding out a coin purse. "Ten sovereigns for bravest way to go. Fucking demons." Hawke grins, swiping the purse.

"Told you, I beat Qunari everytime." They smirk.

"Tal-Vashoth." (Sp? I forget how to spell it sorry) The Iron Bull corrected, he said it the same way Varric spoke about being a dwarf, with not as must distain. There was a story there, one they couldn't wait to Varric to tell. They smiled down to Varric, pulling his teary face into a soft kiss.

~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed ;;

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lavellander · 3 years

Text

more bc i am unstoppable now

I Am Thinking About My DA Protagonists’ Taste In Romantic Partners both their “usual” type and why they’re drawn to their canon love interest (and the hypothetical ones from other games). i expect no one to give a shit abt this except me lsdfjd but im on a roll and its a good exercise or whatever. i’m sure i’ll use it eventually?????

once again. i know no one gives a fuck but if anyone DOES happen to want to torture themselves and read this pls know all my ocs are bi except zaniyah, who is a lesbian<3

sarenan:

general disclaimer that “in the circle love is just a game” etc etc etc so while she definitely is more inclined to romantic relationships, she only really had friends w benefits at most

she likes smart people! she likes fun people, she likes people who can get on board with her fucked up sense of humor. she’s witty and charming and loves to flirt just to flirt, and in the circle that wasn’t much of an issue lol. leliana is the first person she ever feels like...foot-in-mouth around, bc suddenly she likes and is attracted to someone and...that’s allowed? it’s all very foreign to her but she falls Real Hard, Real Fast

in a hypothetical da2 romance obviously isabela is extremely hot but also sarenan canonically has a foursome w her, leli, and zev so dLFKKDS it makes sense that bela’s the love interest of choice<3 (but also i think it would be like...friends-to-friends with benefits-to-lovers lol)

in a hypothetical dai romance once again josie is very hot and also so sweet and cute and delightful !!!!! idk if its just me but i see similarities bw origins leli and josie so again it just makes sense to me that josie is the LI for an inq romance :’)

(BUT for the most part. it is pretty hard for me to imagine sarenan w anyone but leli, bc they are the only couple i have that like. makes sense. lmfao)

maeve:

actually doesnt often have romantic relationships? she has ~flings~ and rarely catches feelings. she describes her type as “anyone sexy”

(her and isabela do in fact have a brief Thing but strictly no strings attached; this is bc i was very very adamant about romancing isabela when i played da2 and then anders fucking SNIPED me. so i incorporated it into canon i guess. lmao)

her attraction to anders is originally just “sexy tortured man” and then “sexy tortured man that gives free healthcare to poor people!!!!” and then - after it’s clear it won’t be a fwb situation - she realizes she has Actual feelings for him and is like well. its been a good run. guess i’ll die! until he reciprocates dflksdjf then they are kirkwall’s weirdest couple to everyone except themselves :’)

in a hypothetical dao romance her and zev would be classic fuckbuddies who accidentally start having a crush on each other, absolutely refuse to acknowledge it, then someone else in the friend group is like “oh my god PLEASE just kiss we are all going insane watching yall do this” <3

in a hypothetical dai romance im still torn bw sera and bull. maeve would just keep hitting on sera until sera did something about it; bull would be similar to zevran in the fuckbuddies-accidentally-caught-feelings dynamic

alani:

i feel like (depending on the size of the clan etc) alani was prob mostly involved w people she’d known almost all her life. she’s obviously attracted to other ppl who like to learn and stuff, but other than that it’s equal opportunity crushes ykwim. she doesn’t even Know she has a thing about people who are like. puzzles to be solved until solas lol

in a hypothetical dao romance she’d be drawn to alistair bc...who wouldnt be. hes adorable. they’re both warm friendly charming sunshines and i think it’d be natural for them to be drawn to one another. once she realizes he has Baggage she’s like oh. OH. i have to defend you against the world now

in a hypothetical da2 romance i thiiink it would be kinda similar to solas. like oh this bitch has a lot of emotional walls up, he’s got some real shit going on. I Like That. also mage rights, hes a sad sexy doctor, we love a revolutionary, etc. it makes sense imo

zaniyah:

similar to maeve i think she’s more of a fling person than a relationship person, but she has had a couple gfs. she’s not very comfy being super serious but she’s a good gf and is very devoted. generally speaking i think she just likes Hot Ladies but is esp drawn to quirky / weird ppl lol

in a hypothetical dao romance she’d like morrigan bc 1) she’s hot and 2) she’s standoffish lol. she’d take it upon herself to get morrigan to like her as like, a personal triumph, but then along the way realize she has a real crush on her and be like shit? fuck? (the same goes for morg. it would be an oh shit oh fuck moment on both ends)

in a hypothetical da2 romance i think her and merrill would be more like friends to lovers :’) zaniyahs immediately like “youre weird. i like you” also they bond bc dalish etc, and over time she starts liking her more and more. eventually zaniyah just cant take it anymore and kisses merrill, apologizes profusely, etc, and merrill’s like “oh. i thought we were dating?” sldkfjsLDKFJds i care them

(josie is kind of an outlier bc she’s so graceful, collected, knows what to do/say always, etc. i dont believe in love at first sight but if i did thats what zaniyah and josie would be<333)

ranae:

she doesnt like. have a type really. because she’s just been in love w her childhood best friend since forever and doesnt think of what she might like in other ppl bc well. he’s right there? she assumes they’ll be together forever, even if only platonically :(

when she meets morrigan she’s like oh i like women too apparently. cool?? when she meets alistair shes a little put off by the fact that hes a golden retriever, then clings to him bc Trauma, then VERY begrudgingly realizes she has a crush on him but feels like shes betraying tamlen

eventually she comes to terms w the fact that like. theres nothing she can do about tamlen unfortunately, and alistair is here and Loves Her and he’s been the only person to make her truly happy in a very long time. it takes a lot for her to think she deserves that, but she does, and the rest is history :’)

in a hypothetical da2 romance it makes perfect sense to me that she’d latch onto the other Elf Who Is Full Of Rage immediately. they are both very intense and it can put other people off sometimes but they dont really care! die mad about it, shem! etc

in a hypothetical dai romance she’d be drawn (platonically) to blackwall bc grey warden stuff, but subconsciously they both kind of feel like frauds, like they dont deserve happiness, etc; theyre both kinda brusque, at least at first, too. she just kinda sees him as a buddy til she watches him bonding w sera or with some kids or something and then shes like 😳 😳 😳 and then angry that shes like that lmao

#oc prompt #AGAIIINNNNNN going to reiterate i know no one cares im posting this for Me #to Reference #also i have had wine. so #what can you do when the OC brain goblin latches on ykwim #sarenan surana #maeve hawke #alani lavellan #zaniyah lavellan #ranae mahariel

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askdragonagecompanions · 5 years

Note

Hi! I’m sorry if I’m annoying, but I wanted to ask, how would the DAI romances help the Inquisitor get used to their left arm being missing from the end of Trespasser? Sorry if it’s bad.

[Don’t worry you’re not annoying at all

Dorian: Maker Dorian feels horrible for what happened to his Amatus. The man needs a break. He had been away tending to some family business in Tevinter for the past few months and he had missed his amatus so much. He had gotten more excited than he probably should have when he was told he was going to be the Tevinter ambassador, because it meant he had an excuse to see his amatus. The man had hidden the anchor flare ups well at first. Dorian didn’t even know that the anchor was bothering the Inquisitor. He was just so caught up with seeing him, having to tell him he was going to take over his father’s spot as Magister... He should have noticed. He should have been able to do something, at least to make the pain less horrible. Dorian thought he was going to lose his amatus, after everything they’d been through he couldn’t lose the man now. Dorian postponed going back to Tevinter for months. His amatus needed him and the Magisterium could wait a few more months. Dorian stayed by the Inquisitor’s side, and with the Inquisition disbanded he had more time to just relax and heal. Dorian would help put on the salve and change the bandages in the first month so that infection wouldn’t set in. They started slow, just helping the Inquisitor put on his shirts at first, then when he had more energy they started on reworking his balance in battle. Even if he wasn’t Inquisitor anymore he would always need to protect himself. The first month was the hardest for the Inquisitor. Dorian doesn’t even want to think what it would have been like if he was alone. Some days he can’t even get the Inquisitor to leave his bed, so Dorian laid down next to him and just held him close. He would murmur sweet nothings, affirmations that the Inquisitor was still his amatus, that they were both still alive. He didn’t know what was going through his love’s mind, but Dorian made sure he was there for the Inquisitor every step of the way. When the Inquisitor’s arm is healed enough that it no longer needs a bandage, Dorian can see that his amatus is avoiding even looking at it. So, during quiet moments when its just the two of them Dorian gives it a little kiss, and then him a gentle kiss. “I love you. I am... so glad I still have you with me amatus.” and he lets the Inquisitor lean against him. Eventually he can no longer put off returning to Tevinter, but they each have the amulets Dorian charmed so that they can talk to each other. Dorian talks with his amatus every day... Maker he misses that man so much, but he’s confident now that the Inquisitor will make it. It’s going to be hard, but he no longer fears losing him. Whenever they do get to steal time to be with each other Dorian treasures it.

Solas: Solas knew that the anchor would eventually kill the Inquisitor if he didn’t do something about it. What he didn’t plan for was falling in love with her. After Corypheus was defeated he knew he had to leave. If he didn’t leave then he didn’t know if he ever could, and Solas didn’t want her to follow him on this journey. He was going to have to do so many things... he didn’t want to put his Vhenan through that it would be selfish. He had already been selfish by even entering a relationship with her. He couldn’t let his actions be her end, so he began to think of a way to lead the Inquisitor to him without exposing himself too early on. He couldn’t have the Inquisition stopping him, and he did need a way to warn the Inquisition of the Qunari’s plot. He used the Eluvians to lead the Inquisitor to himself. He knew she would be smart enough to follow the trail. He could save her. When she arrived her arm was worse than he thought. For a moment it was almost impossible to talk. His heart was in his throat and he wanted nothing more than to embrace her and hold her close. “So you really are him... you’re the Dread Wolf.” Her voice held so much sadness and contempt. Solas just hoped that she would understand why he hadn’t told her. He used his magic to give them more time, so that they could talk and he could try to explain what he was doing and why he had to do it. Solas removed his Vhenan’s arm so that the anchor would not kill her. He made sure her companions found her before leaving. Solas is not there to help her recover from losing her arms even though he desperately wants to be. He must walk this path alone. He has already put the Inquisitor through too much pain. She said she would prove him wrong, and Solas hoped she would. He would love to be proven wrong again...

Sera: It just wasn’t fair. The whole meeting to decide if the Inquisition was needed or not already sucked, but hey Sera turned it into a good thing and she and Inky got married and it was great! But then that stupid anchor... Sera felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. Inky had been looking a little green around the gills lately, but she always said she was just nervous and she’d be okay. Sera believed her of course cause it was her Inky, she fought Corypheshit and survived so Sera just assumed it was a little cold. Then the anchor started acting up more and more and it was physically hurting Inky. Her arm really started to look bad, and no matter the salves Sera put on it it was just getting worse. She knew it was killing Inky and it wasn’t fair! This was supposed to be their happy ending not Inky dying because of something she never asked to have, not full of Qunari warriors trying to kill them all and start a war cause of some wolf. Then Inky went through that mirror by herself and Sera kept trying to get through it because Inky needed her help and she was not going to lose her wife! Finally the stupid thing started working and they could get to Inky it wasn’t a pretty sight. Sera was a mess back at the Winter Palace while the healers helped get the Inquisitor stable. Sera couldn’t believe they were still going to make her address all those people after losing her fucking arm! Ugh, she was taking down names to pie later. She’s by Inky’s side the whole time. She can’t help but fret for the first week. It’s still giving Inky pain even though the healers all said there is no more fade magic in the arm that should be hurting her. They cuddle a lot and Sera tries to cheer her up whenever she can, but she understands that this has got to be really hard on the Inquisitor. She can’t imagine how it’s gotta feel, but Sera does love that they don’t have to worry about all the Inquisition business right now. She can just focus on helping get her Inky back on her feet. Sera’s very gentle, she tells a lot of stories about her favorite pranks she’s pulled especially on stuck up nobles who thought they were untouchable. She gets really excited as she tells Inky about how she’s been working on designing a pie arrow. On really good days she takes Inky to the gardens so they can look at the bees together. Sera makes it her goal to make the Inquisitor smile at least once a day even if it’s only for a second she’ll know she succeeded. She makes sure the Inquisitor knows she’s not going to leave her side, that she’s still Thedas’s most kickass woman ever, and that they’re friggin married! When the Inquisitor feels ready enough Sera starts taking her on small Red Jenny missions and she loves hearing her giggle while they prank the nobles that needed it. She stays by the Inquisitor’s side and is there for her whenever she needs her.

Iron Bull: Bull had a feeling that this meeting would be a bit of a shit show. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited to see all his friends again and get to be with his Kadan, it was just that they had the worst luck out of anyone he’d ever met. Bull had known something was up with them for a while now. They wouldn’t tell him what, but he knew they weren’t feeling the best either. When he heard about the anchor flare ups from Leliana he was worried. They should have told him sooner. He... he knows he couldnt’ have done anything to stop it but he could have helped them. He could have supported them and given them someone to talk to if they were worried about it. Bull needed to stay strong though. his Kadan needed him to be strong and so he was. They were both going to make it through this together. He had been Tal Vashoth for a few years now so he had no idea that the Qun was planning such a large attack. He couldn’t believe they tried to get him to rejoin the Qun and abandon his Kadan. The final battle was so intense and he’d lost track of the Inquisitor. The anchor flare ups were happening so frequently and every time the Inquisitor would cry out. Bull just kept fighting, kept trying to keep enemies off of his Kadan. When they finally won and got back to the Winter Palace it was clear that Bull was nervous, well clear to anyone who knew him well enough. He knew what it was like to lose a part of yourself and for the Inquisitor to lose their arm it was going to be a big change. When they wake up he’s by their side, smiling and probably a little misty eyed because, “Kadan I love you so much, but please don’t ever scare me like that again.” And he kisses them. He speaks softly as he tells them they lost their arm and it pains him to see them look so distraught. He holds them close and assures them they’re not alone in this. He knows it’s going to be tough. The Inquisitor is going to have to learn and relearn a lot of things, especially in combat, but for the first month he makes sure that the Inquisitor is just taking it easy. Their body needs time to recover, to heal. Besides, with no Inquisition Charger stuff can wait. The Chargers stop by all the time. Bull takes his Kadan to the Tavern when they’re more stable and they all laugh and tell stories with the Chargers. They’ve all gotten hurt pretty bad. Bull gives the Inquisitor massages and little kisses and assures them they’re still a bad ass, still gorgeous, that their scars just show how tough they are. Bull likes scars. It’s proof that someone survived through something dangerous. Once they’re physically healthy again and they’re comfortable with it he starts stealing away nights with them again. Maker knows they need to release some of that tension. Bull is very encouraging. When the Inquisitor has a bad day and breaks down he sits with them and lets them get it all, lets them cry and vent, and he affirms that yeah this fucking sucks, but he helps them see the positives too. He loves the Inquisitor more than he thought possible, and to Bull just having them here is enough. He’s there for them, whatever they need he’ll give.

Blackwall: Blackwall had been terrified that he was going to lose the Inquisitor. He may not have had spy training, but he knew the Inquisitor and he knew there was something she wasn’t telling him. He would try to ask, but she kept assuring him everything was okay, that she was just worried about the meeting. He didn’t believe her entirely, but he wouldn’t press further. He kept giving her physical affection, though. Small kisses, assuring squeezes of the hand, hugs. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she could tell him anything. And then everything went tits up. Apparently the Qunari got the idea that the Inquisition was working with one of their enemies and were going to launch a full scale attack and so it was up to them to stop it and save the world... again. With each fight the Inquisitor just looked worse. She was exhausted and the anchor was definitely doing something to her. It was killing her. “Maker I cannot lose you...” He felt like his world was shattering and he hugged her. He hugged her close and tight and willed his tears to not fall but they wouldn’t listen. “We’re going to make it through this, both of us.” He couldn’t lose her, not now, not after everything they had gone through. She deserved peace, not death from something she couldn’t control. He was relieved when they won, but for a few days it was still dicey. The Inquisitor was in and out of consciousness, she had lost her arm, but it kept her alive. With the anchor gone she was finally starting to heal. Blackwall had known many soldiers who lost a limb before. They could still fight, it just took an adjustment period to learn a different way to fight, to learn new balance, and honestly just to accept that their limb was gone. When the Inquisitor truly wakes up he hugs her close and kisses her. “I thought I’d lost you...” He murmured against her. The Inquisitor took the news relatively well. She was determined to still attend the meeting even though she had only just woken. He was nervous she was going to push herself too far, but when the Inquisitor set her mind to something there really was no stopping her. He stayed by her side. She traveled with Blackwall, as he had made it his mission to help people like him, who had made mistakes in their past, to give them a second chance and hope. Blackwall helps the Inquisitor cope, he comforts her, when she cries and apologizes he assures her there’s no need. On days where she gets ghost pains Blackwall holds her hand and lets her squeeze to help with the pain. Most importantly he makes sure she knows that she’s loved, that together they can and have made it through the Fade and back.

Cassandra: She had gotten so busy with rebuilding the Seekers that she really hadn’t had a lot of time with the Inquisitor in the months before the meet. Perhaps if she had been there she would have known sooner. The world was already crashing down around then and then she learned that she was losing her love too? It was infuriating and terrifying and she pulled him into a kiss, “I am not losing you. You are not going to die on me.” It was an order. She wasn’t going to lose him, not after everything they’d been through together. She actually managed to get a laugh out of him and she smiled weakly. “You should know I’m not joking.” “I know.” He murmured and kissed her again. They one the battle. Cassandra did not care about her own injuries and shooed away any Healer that tried to attend to her. She would be fine. She wanted them to attend to the Inquisitor first, he was more important. Only once he was stable did she allow for herself to be tended to. Cassandra was surprised when he disbanded the Inquisition but a part of her was glad. It meant they could be together with no duties keeping them apart. When he woke up she was by his side. She broke the news as gently as she could. Cassandra knows she is not the best at being gentle or helping with emotions, but she has been working on it. Ever since she and the Inquisitor got together she wanted to be better for him. Mainly she helps with the physical aspects of losing a limb. She encourages him to work on his balance, to learn how to use just one arm, simple things at first, and the more he healed the more complex the exercises became. She spars with him, she does not go easy. He needs to relearn, he needs to be able to protect himself. When he gets overwhelmed she’s at his side and there to help him calm down. She tells him about how far hes come, how he’s survived demons, dragons, ancient magisters, and ancient magic that was killing him. She feels guilty when she’s the one who caused him to be overwhelmed. She’s only trying to help and she knows she can do too much sometimes. She makes up for it by holding him close at night and running her hand through his hair while she reads to him. She knows just how to calm him down and help him relax. When she sees him avoiding his arm, or looking at it with disdain she pulls him into a kiss and puts her hand on that shoulder. “I know it is hard to accept, but think of it as a sign that you survived, that you are alive because... I do not know what I would have done without you. I love you.”

Cullen: The Inquisitor has done so much for him, and honestly he was quite nervous about this meeting. Nobles forget too fast how the Inquisition saved them from the world being destroyed from a giant breach in the sky, and now that the threat was gone they wanted to make sure that the Inquisition was either disbanded or allied to a certain power so that they wouldn’t have to worry about a new power taking over. It was all bullshit in his opinion. He stayed by the Inquisitor’s side through it all. He loved her so much, though lately he was worried. Some nights he would wake to her gone from their bed. She assured him she was fine, just getting some water, but he didn’t believe her. She looked to shaken up. He assumed it was just nightmares, but she never really told him. Then her mark flared in front of him and his heart sank. Maker not now... he couldn’t lose her, but it wasn’t like they could stop either. The world was in their hands again and she had to fight, and he had to stay and make sure that everyone was prepared in case... in case she didn’t succeed. Before she left he held her close and kissed her, their foreheads pressed together gently. “Please come back to me my love... I... can’t lose you.” His voice was quiet and pleading. “I’ll do my best Cullen.” Their hearts were heavy, though. This was an impossible situation and her anchor was already so bad. When the party came back Cullen feared the worse when he saw how they were carrying her. The healers came and he paced outside of the tent until he was finally let in. Cullen didn’t leave her side. Maker she was okay. When she woke up he kissed her forehead and gave her a teary smile. His new mabari also came to kiss her and they both laughed. “He was worried about you too.’ He murmured. Cullen had helped others go through something similar back when he was a Templar. It was never easy, but having support helped. He did not coddle her, but when he saw her getting overwhelmed he would step in and help until she was ready to try on her own again. He reminded her everyday that she was not weak, that she had succeeded, that they were together and she was alive and that was all that mattered. It did them both good that they were no longer in the Inquisition. They had a chance to breathe. He was honestly ready for it. He was tired of fighting and he just wanted to settle. While she was healing he would lay next to her at night and tell her of how they could go visit his family back in Ferelden, how he wanted to build them their own cabin. She smiled and he grinned back. He knew as long as they had each other they could survive anything.

Josephine: One would have thought that with Corypheus gone her work load would have been easier, but it was the exact opposite. Without a major threat uniting the lands nobles began to either try and buy the Inquisition or call for them to be disbanded. In all her haste of preparing for the meet and trying to keep everything under control and calm Josephine had failed to notice her love’s declining health. They stayed so upbeat and when she did notice something she just assumed that it was nerves for the up coming meet. When she found out what was truly wrong she started to cry. Everything that could go wrong was. The nobles were threatening to disband the Inquisition, Leliana and Cullen were taking charge when they were supposed to be laying low and keeping the peace, and now her love was dying because of the anchor and there was nothing she could do. They still had to fight, to stop the Qunari attack and all she could do was try to keep the nobles at bay for a little while longer. She feels like her nerves are eating her alive the longer she has to wait to know if her love succeeded, to know if they are coming back to her. When they do she breaks down. She doesn’t care what the healers say she’s staying by their side the whole time. Josephine is already making plans. She’s going to contact some of the finest prosthetic makers she knows, she’ll get the healers to write down everything she needs to know to help ensure the Inquisitor makes a speedy recovery. She is going to do everything in her power to make them recover quickly and as smoothly as possible. She’s gentle and encourages them the whole time. When they break down she’s their to comfort them. When they call themself useless she presents them with a whole list on why they are the furthest thing from useless. She almost lost them twice, and she’s determined to not let that happen again. On days where they don’t want to get out of bed she stays with them and showers them in affection. She’s just happy to have them with her, to have them alive. It’s a few months later when she takes the Inquisitor to Antiva to meet her family. They still have bad days, she doesn’t expect that to go away. They went through so many horrible things, but she wants to build so many happy memories for them, so that when the bad days come around she can remind them that they’re not alone, that they’re loved, that each day is new and open for possibilities. She loves to hold their hand or lean against their shoulder. When it’s just the two of them at night she gives what remains of their arm a gentle kiss. Sometimes she sees a sad look in their eyes when they go to hug her and remember that it’ll never be the same, so she pulls them in closer and gives them a squeeze because “I love you. You’re here and I am so glad that you are.”

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ranawaytothedas · 4 years

Note

Pretty ballads hide bastard truths? Maybe for Varric and characters of your choice?

Thank you so muhc! Sorry, it took me so long… illness..depression… the usual unpleasant life things…. Hopefully, this will make up for the delay.

The Girl With the Sad Eyes -

Cullen & Varric

hints at pre-relationship Cullen/Maeve and Alistair/Maeve as well

The tavern was always the liveliest place in Haven come nightfall. Everyone at some point filed through. There were soft ballads being sung and every corner of the small wooden building was bursting with life. Cullen had tucked himself off in a dark corner, nursing a tankard of ale. His eyes fixed on the young Herald of Andraste as she clutched onto their new Warden ally’s arm as she laughed. All Cullen could think of was how he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. In the four months he had known Maeve, he had only seen her genuinely laugh with him.

Alistair, Cullen grumbled internally. They had been friends, close friends, which felt like a lifetime before. When they were just young men in Templar training. Yet, since he joined the Inquisition they had barely spoken three words to each other. All Alistair’s attention seemed to be devoted solely on Maeve. They seemed to be never more than an arm’s length apart from sunrise to sunset.

Cullen considered himself fairly adept at reading people, but he couldn’t quite grasp what was the nature of Maeve and Alistair’s relationship. Leliana had said ‘She is like his little sister, or so that was the way it had been… things change.’ Maeve never spoke of Alistair to him, well not more than saying she didn’t want to speak of him. Maeve, by herself, was difficult enough for Cullen to read. One moment she would look at him like he was the only man in the world, confess some unspoken secret to him late at night. Then come dawn, she was hanging on Alistair’s arm looking at him like a lost Mabari pup. “Frustrating women,” Cullen mumbled into his tankard.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cullen spotted the stout figure of Varric Tethras sauntering over to him. ‘Oh, just what I need…’ Cullen bemoaned internally as he lowered the tankard and tried to put on the friendliest expression he could muster in the moment. “Good Evening, Varric,” Cullen greeted slowly. There was an odd friendship forming between the men and their mutual fondness for a certain young thief only seemed to strengthen this friendship in recent weeks.

Varric set a tankard of ale on the table as he sat down, “It is a good evening… isn’t it, Curly?” Varric asked rather amused with himself. Cullen nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on Maeve who was now trying to coax Alistair to dance with her. Varric glanced over his shoulder to see what Cullen was looking and sighed. “The Prince and The Princess…” He laughed softly. “I am telling you, they are my next novel.”

“So, they are…” Cullen started without thinking before the words came tumbling from his lips. He caught himself before he could finish but Varric heard enough. The brokenhearted tone in Cullen's voice spoke more than his words could.

Varric let out a long sigh. "I can't say for certain but I spend enough time with them to see the way she looks at him and the way he looks at her. There are feelings there." Varric mused as he took a hearty swill of ale before lowering the tankered. "Could either of them tell us what those feelings are, not likely. But whatever is between them sure as the stone isn’t some ‘oh he is like family’ feelings like Maeve likes to claim." Varric watched as Cullen's face dropped and his gazed lowered to his drink. "Hey, I don't think you are out of the race yet," Varric leaned in and in a low tone asked. "She still meets you, every night she is here. Right?"

Nodding slowly Cullen looked up at Varric, "Every night." Cullen admitted in barely a whisper.

Leaning back Varric smirked. "See, the Princess does like you, Curly." Varric could see a small glimmer of hope return to Cullen's eyes. He patted his hand on the table. "You know, the Prince doesn't win the Princess in all the ballads, not if you listen closely." Cullen raised a skeptical eyebrow and Varric sighed. "Pretty ballads hide bastard truths," he lifted his hand and gestured towards himself. "Trust me, I am a writer… there is so much more to that relationship that spells disaster waiting to happen…"

Cullen started to laugh. "Oh Maker," he groaned not sure if he wanted to hear what Varric was about to tell him.

"The Princess is a walking disaster, I see it...you see it...Prince Charming over there definitely sees it." Varric took another long drink as his tone grew serious. "I suspect the only person who doesn't is her." Cullen's jaw tightened as he tried not to agree with him, as much as he wanted to. "I don't think it's a good idea for her to jump into bed with either of you..or anyone for that matter. There is something deeper and darker going on inside her that needs to work it's way out before anyone could even venture to get close…"

"She is not some abomination." Cullen cut Varric off in a very defensive tone.

"No, but she sure as shit isn't a normal mage is she?" Varric pointed out in a blunt but low tone. "I adore that kid, you know how much she reminds me of…"

"I know," Cullen answered before Varric even had a chance to finish.

"But if this whole 'Witch of the Wilds' business is true. Hawke met her mother, saw her turn into a dragon and Daisy, oh Daisy has been writing me letter after letter of tales of what the Dalish say about her. The Princess is the Princess for a good reason. In some world, to someone. That girl is royalty and royals are nothing if not tragic." Cullen looked puzzled and Varric leaned in. "Cullen," Varric rarely used his actual name so that alone made Cullen focus on his friend. "Have you looked at her eyes…"

'Yes, more than I should. They are the most beautiful..' Cullen shook his head before nodding. "Of course, she has rather unique…"

"No, have you ever noticed that even when she laughs...even when she looks at him...they are always filled with a life of pain and sadness. More than a lifetime, maybe a dozen lifetimes…"

It took him a moment but Cullen started to think back to the one time he had made her smile a few nights before on the docks. He did not think her eyes were sad. Though he did know what Varric had been speaking of. The corners of his mouth turned upward and Cullen gripped the tankered. "When she smiled at me, her eyes were not sad…"

The men shared a long look as a smile grew across Varric's lips. He lifted his mug "Well then, Curly. You are far more in the race then you expect…"

"Really?"

"By Andraste’s most scared of knickers, I speak the truth. You stand a real chance."

"Perhaps, but this is all foolish… I mean Alistair and I had rivalries like this fifteen years ago and it never ended well for either of us then. We never got the girl… never. We always ended up sneaking to a tavern to try and get drunk after the girl of our mutual dreams...at whatever moment...rejected us both."

Varric laughed. "Perhaps the real romance is between you and Prince Charming…"

"Makers Breath, Varric"

"He doth protests too much…"

#prompt fills #inkies:maeve #maeve the witch of the frostbacks #ship:fluffy as a porcupine #cullen rutherford #varric tethras #alistair theirin #dai fanfiction #pre relationship

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nerdierholler · 4 years

Text

OC Interview Questions

I was tagged but @heraldofwho (thank you!) and I’m tagging @slothssassin, @katajanokka , @dickeybbqpit, and @bronzeagelove plus anyone else who just wants to! I’m going to go with post-Trespasser Ithlen, because I miss her.

In a camp, somewhere near the Teviner border with a small band of scouts from the former Inquisition.

name ➔ Ithlen Lavellan Mahariel are you single ➔ There’s a sad smile, “Yes, I am.” are you happy ➔ Happy as I can be, given the circumstances. When your work consumes your time and identity, happiness can be hard to define. Things are going well, plans are being made, and I still have the luxury of enjoying the small things in life. are you angry ➔ At the moment, no. In general, sometimes. It’s always there under the surface, anger about the way parts of my life have played out, the reasoning leading up to our current state of affairs, the fact that I have once more taken on another seemingly impossible task that few will fully comprehend or thank me for should I be successful. It’s too easy to be consumed by those thoughts, and there have been times in my life when that has been the case. I try to stay focused on the task at hand these days. are your parents still married ➔ Still? They never were. I wonder how much different my life would have been had they been allowed to. The world might be a very different place as a result.

More under the cut!

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ Brecilian Forest, Ferelden hair color ➔ black, with an increasing number of grays mixed in. eye color ➔ gray birthday ➔ late fall mood ➔ Tired, always tired. Other than that, content I suppose. gender ➔ female summer or winter ➔ Summer. It probably goes back to growing up in the forest. Summer was a time of plenty. Long days where you could get so much done and still have time to enjoy yourself after. Winter was a time of patience. Watching food stores, being even more careful stalking prey, cooped up crafting or weaving in the aravels to pass the time. I liked the soups and storytelling around the fires with warm mugs though.

morning or afternoon ➔ Morning. Get up, get going, hopefully get enough done to enjoy a little break for tea later.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ I...don’t know. ‘It’s complicated’ would be the understatement of the age. But there is someone out there I care very much about and who weighs heavily on my mind. I’m not sure I’d call it love, but it’s something. do you believe in love at first sight ➔ For myself, no. I’m much too practical for that. I’m also so focused on my work that it’s usually the last thing I would ever think of when meeting someone new. who ended your last relationship ➔ We both did, him maybe more than me. We were heading down different paths, though at the time I had no idea just how different they really were. have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ *She sighs* Probably, when I was very young. I didn’t mean to and we both thought I might change my mind some day. I loved Tamlen, just not in that way, and I’m not exactly sure how he felt about that. It wasn’t something we discussed. I know we were expected to marry and he was more at home with that than I was. are you afraid of commitments ➔ Not at all, although some may look at the patterns of my life and say otherwise.

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ This week? No. But it depends on the week and who I’m with. There are times where I may hug several people in a day quite happily. have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ It’s very likely, though no one has ever approached me or sent me mysterious notes and gifts if that’s what you’re asking. have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Yes. *the word is barely a whisper*

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ I don’t see why it can’t be both, but if I have to pick one, love. Even if we aren’t in a romantic relationship, we still need love, and there are so many kinds of love. Love is important. lemonade or iced tea ➔ Neither. Hot tea is my preference year round. cats or dogs ➔ I’ve had wonderful companions of both over the years. My current situation prevents me from having either with me, but I always stop to visit with the friendly ones when I’m on my travels.

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ A few best friends. Apparently I have a long standing reputation for being distant. It’s not entirely untrue, but I have my reasons for keeping most people at an arm’s length. wild night out or romantic night in ➔ I can probably count the wild nights out I’ve had my whole life on one hand and haven’t had one in well over a decade. Romantic night in is my choice. day or night ➔ I don’t quite understand what I’m choosing here, but day I suppose if only because sometimes unpleasant things lurk in the quiet dark, especially when we’re alone.

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Caught leaving to go do something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, not that I can recall. Gotten caught after the fact? Frequently when I was growing up.

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ Are there people out there who haven’t? Not to mention, I lived in a keep for 10 years, anyone who says no is lying.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ So many things. And I’ve learned that sometimes that hurt never fully goes away. wanted to disappear ➔ Many times, sometimes just to avoid getting in trouble with the Keeper, but there are still times where I want to wander away and stop being the person everyone is depending on. If I really wanted to, I probably could, but I’d never be able to look at my reflection again.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Both. shorter or taller ➔ Most people are taller than me so this one’s not that difficult. But to tell the truth, it doesn’t matter much to me.

intelligence or attraction ➔ A pretty face can only take one so far if there’s nothing to talk about and all you end up doing is staring at each other for hours. hook-up or relationship ➔ Relationship. Hook-ups are not in the best interest of a person in my position, but that’s also just not who I am. I’ve always been too serious about things like that.

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ I've never had a family in the traditional sense. Growing up I got along well with the clan and those in it. Then the wardens were my family and it’s always a good idea to get alone with one’s commander. Seriously though, I was proud to oversee those men and women. The Inquisition was a messier family, I think that’s usually the case when politics get involved. There were good people there, but it was a huge organization and it’s probably best that most have a little more space now. would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Surprisingly, no. If you list the many turns my life has taken, I suspect most would say it is, but it’s just life to me, and the only kind I’ve known for a very long time. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else though. have you ever ran away from home ➔ No. In fact the Keeper practically had to throw me out to get me to go with Duncan. I’ve had to leave homes since then, but I’ve never run away from them.

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ I wouldn’t say she kicked me out, but the Keeper was very firm in her insistence that I join the Grey Wardens. In fairness, I would have died, or worse, if I hadn’t.

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ No? Is that a thing? do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ Yes. I keep a small circle of friends and they are all close. who is your best friend ➔ Leliana and Nate. Though now I’m usually out of contact with both for longer periods. I miss them terribly.

who knows everything about you ➔ See my previous answer, though Leliana probably edges out Nate just because she’s Leliana. It’s to be expected when you choose to have one of the best spymasters in the world as your best friend.

#dragon age #ithlen lavellan mahariel

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shannaraisles · 5 years

Text

Ena’Vun - Prologue

Read on AO3

***

PROLOGUE

For the attention of Teyrn Fergus Cousland of Highever

My lord, I am pleased to convey to you the news that your brother, Lord Bryland Cousland, was the lone survivor of the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Due to the circumstances of his survival, he bears the mark of the same magic that created the Breach now marring our skies. Due to unfortunate rumors surrounding his emergence from the Temple, some are now calling him the Herald of Andraste, which has attracted no little hostility from the Chantry. The Inquisition is well able to protect him against such hostilities, I assure you. Lord Bryland has agreed to remain in Haven and assist the Inquisition in closing the Breach, finding those responsible, and bringing them to justice. His only concern was that his family should be made aware of his situation which, as you can see, is easily done. He wishes me to assure you that he has not been harmed, and that he is well cared for. He also requests that a way be found to bring his mabari hound here to Haven, if it is possible. Rest assured that the Inquisition is committed to the goals laid down in this missive. With warm regards, Josephine Montilyet

Fergus stared at the missive in his hands for a long moment, torn between relief that his baby brother was alive and annoyance that yet another Cousland had got themselves into the middle of something that was far too big for one person to handle.

"What did you do to end up there, you idiot?" he muttered, rising to his feet, the parchment still in his hand.

"Which idiot is that, my lord?"

The teyrn hesitated, glancing toward the fireplace, where his wife was rocking their newborn son gently. For just a moment, the haze of sad memory lowered, painting her as Oriana with a newborn Oren, but no ... those days were long gone, those lives snuffed out a full decade before. This was Madeleine, his wife of a little over a year, and their newborn son, named for the grandfather whose life’s blood had soaked into these stones what seemed a lifetime ago.

"My brother," he told her, reaching for the door. "Bryland is mixed up with this Inquisition - I'll tell you in a moment."

With a nod, he left her in the warm study, stepping out into the corridors of Highever Keep in search of the captain of his guard. He found him drilling the new recruits in the courtyard in front of the keep, between the rebuilt and far more easily held walls that surrounded both keep and bailey.

"Ser Gilmore!"

The redheaded captain turned to his teyrn, handing the recruits into the care of his second with a simple word before moving to join Fergus.

"Your lordship?"

"Read this."

Fergus thrust the parchment letter from Haven into his guard captain's hands. Gilmore scanned the delicate lines of writing for a moment, fighting unsuccessfully to keep a resigned smile from touching his expression as he handed it back to his teyrn.

"Put together a personal guard for him and send them to Haven, would you?" Fergus then ordered. "They're seconded to the Inquisition until they are recalled to Highever."

"At your command, your lordship. And the mabari?"

Fergus scowled, letting out a sigh.

"All right, take the damned dog as well," he conceded. "We could do without the noise, anyway."

***

For the attention of the Princess-Consort of Ferelden

Your highness, I am pleased to convey to you the news that your brother, Lord Bryland ...

Elinar's eyes flicked back and forth across the letter in her hand, her expression growing more and more tense as she did so. It was bad enough that Dermot was a Grey Warden and could never again truly be one of them, but now Bryland had to go and get himself marked for death by the Chantry?

"Marked," she murmured, her gaze returning to a pertinent line.

Your brother requested that I inform you of the position of the mark that he bears - it is placed seemingly in the palm of his left hand.

Unconsciously, Elinar looked down at her own left hand, withered and gray from her brush with the Blight, all but useless unless she had a shield strapped to her arm. Her jaw set in hard lines, worry for her little brother suffusing every atom of her being. Would he, too, be maimed for only doing what was right? There was no doubt in her mind that he had been in the wrong place at the right time to have ended up in the middle of all this. Her little brother was not a murderer.

"Elinar?"

A soft hand covered her right, and she realized she had been crumpling the letter in her fist, staring into space as she considered what consequences Bryland was going to have to survive in all this. The hand that drew her back from those dark thoughts was the hand she had guarded and protected all these years, the hand that belonged to the woman who held her heart.

Anora was watching her face in concern, gently smoothing her fingers out before she could cut her palm with her nails as she was so wont to do in times of stress. Elinar drew in a deep breath, producing a small smile for her wife and queen.

"Bryland is this new Herald of Andraste," she said, and it was all she needed to say.

Anora nodded slowly, a resigned smile on her face.

"You Couslands are always at the heart of the matter, aren't you?" she accused affectionately. "The Inquisition, though small, is a strong unit. He will be well guarded. And unfortunately we have larger problems at the moment."

Elinar's frown this time was one of concern for her wife.

"The mages?" she asked.

Queen Anora nodded once again, tired of being caught between the Chantry and the free mages.

"There is a rumor that they are seeking outside assistance in their fight against the templars," she told Elinar worriedly. "I fear I will have to make a decision on their continued sanctuary sooner than we hoped."

Wrapping her arm about Anora's shoulders, Elinar kissed the silver-touched gold of her wife's hair gently. The world was rushing toward chaos, and all they could do was hope to keep their small corner of it as peaceful as possible for as long as they could.

***

Dermot Cousland, Grey Warden, Hero of Ferelden, and Hero of the Fifth Blight, got about four lines in before he burst out laughing. That was how Zevran found him moments later, bent double on his knees by the fire, laughing hysterically as he waved a small piece of parchment around.

"I am almost afraid to ask, mi amor."

The Antivan assassin smiled, grabbing the parchment from his lover's hand to skim the contents. His own lips twitched toward a smile as he did so.

"Your brother is quite the adventurer still, no?"

Snorting as he tried to get himself under control, Dermot wheezed, pushing himself back onto the log that was serving as a seat for the evening. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

"Of all the times to go and get himself mixed up in something huge, it had to be now," he managed, shaking his head. "I'm sure Fergus is delighted."

Leaning against his side, Zevran perused the letter once again.

"Ah, I see he has the delicate Leliana at his side," he commented. "I wonder how she has been these past years. Divine Justinia was no easy taskmaster, I imagine."

"It's bad timing for us, though," Dermot answered, his laughter fading swiftly now the initial reaction was passed. "I can't go back and help him. This is too important to put off any longer."

His gloved fingers twined with Zevran's, holding on tighter than might be necessary, communicating the fear neither one of them was prepared to speak aloud. The Calling was coming for him, could come at any time, and from what they had heard from Alistair and Loghain, had come early for too many Wardens in the last few months. There had to be a cure somewhere. But he couldn't just abandon his little brother, either.

"Zevran," he began, but his lover was ahead of him.

"You know, I was loath to admit it, but I have some unfinished business in Southern Thedas," the assassin said easily, stroking the back of Dermot's hand against his tattooed cheek. "Would you mind terribly if I went back for a month or so, and then met up with you further west?"

Dermot let out a rush of breath, leaning closer to rest his forehead against Zevran's, closing his eyes in relief.

"Thank you, amorcito," he murmured. "You always know just what to do."

Zevran smiled in the flickering darkness.

"For you, mi amor, I would do anything."

#ena'vun #inquisitor cousland au #fergus cousland #ser gilmore #elinar cousland #anora mac tir #dermot cousland #zevran arainai #prologue #setting the scene #letters #spreading the news

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