#nathaniel howe x cousland
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Last Line Meme
ok this came at a good time, @my-dumb-obsessions b/c I opened up the Dragon Age: Awakenings fic to work on, so I shall post this. I just finished this, lol, and I like it. Sorry Nathaniel, you’re screwed.
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The frustration that rose was more than common irritation, for it was infected with an unwelcome fondness that crept through every crack in his armor, digging down into old places weakened by a boy’s bemused fascination with an infuriating, spoiled little girl.
#da:a#Nathaniel Howe x Cousland#she might drive u nuts but you like her#sorry bud#Phoebe Cousland#currently perched dangerously on a roof yelling about how she can fix anything she wants#one step away from death#which Nathaniel is trying to point out#but she thinks he's questioning her abilities
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Today's pro tip: if you feel uninspired, steal your friend's ship.
Bonus points: your friend lives on the other side of the world so you are safe for another 5 to 6 hours.
Brianna Cousland belongs to @kittynomsdeplume
and Nathaniel Howe belongs in our hearts.
#dragon age#dragon age awakening#nathaniel howe#nathaniel x warden#brianna cousland#dragon age fanart
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If there's one thing I know about my Handers War AU prequel is that Nathaniel survives to the end of the war and finally gets to marry his lovely nurse lady, Corinne.
#nathaniel howe#nathaniel x cousland#warden#dragon age awakening#da fanart#dragon age: awakening#dragon age#bioware#modern au#sort of........#historical au#handers war au#twbe#sbh#sbh art
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Nathaniel not being romanceable in Awakening means nothing to me (or to my Cousland for that matter). It doesn't mean he isn't romanceable at all. Awakening is just the beginning. It's the mutual pinning, the slow burn, the i met my childhood friend and now they are my enemy? They are learning. Learning to live with the tragedy of their families and their intertwined fate. Also learning about each other after such a long time spent apart. And they are casually ending darkspawn after darkspawn while doing so. Shamelessly ogling each other despite the gore. Honorable nobles to unhinged Wardens saving the world from the Blight. Childhood friends to brief enemies to unapologetically flirting colleagues. They will get together, but the narrative will end before they do.
#always thinking about him#also feeling feelings for my cousland nonstop#my gameplay with alistair was intense and i hc that is why the slow burn hit harder with nathaniel#i love unhardened alistair angst with him calling the relationship off telling cousland she can't even give him an heir#and immediately putting a baby in morrigan that night#she stayed a bestie regardless my little clown 😚✌️#kind of wanna start a series of adventures of my cousland#when i have free time next month#kinda feeling unsure and insecure to actually go for it#dragon age#dragon age awakening#nathaniel howe#cousland#nathaniel x warden#my da oc#murmurmur#me own#ignoring canon as i see fit bc i can ✨
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A Continuation?? Redraw?? of this. Velanna finally got a coat
#dragon age#dragon age origins#DAO#dragon age awakening#zevran arainai#Nathaniel Howe#Velanna#mabari#barkspawn#warden cousland#my warden#aedan cousland#i spent a whole week on this so you should totally click on it to see the full image#zevran x warden#also zev is the one who braided Aedan's hair
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Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland
Chapter: 12/?
Rating: M
Warnings: Canon-typical violence
Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.
Read on AO3!
Haring, 9:30 Dragon
The paper crinkled under the twist of anxious fingers, the words of the letter contorting as the linen fibres split just enough to crack the strokes of oak-gall ink. Alistair paced. The messenger had presented the royal missive with a silent bow, its urgency betrayed by the fact that it was done in the relative privacy of a corridor and not at the spectacle of breakfast, where the custom was to deliver any letters accumulated from the day before so that all the nobility of Starkhaven might better pry into one another’s business. Conscious of Princess Meghan’s particular love of gossip, Alistair had come to the deserted upper courtyard without even stopping at his rooms to retrieve his cloak, but agitation stirred his blood too high to find the mild Marcher weather cold.
A Blight. A full muster of the Bannorn underway. A personal request from Cailan to come home.
Water poured into a carved basin from the mouth of a bronze lion set into the white marble wall. Emerald vines scrambled up the pillars of the arcade to proffer clusters of scented, dawn-yellow flowers, their colour blanched against the deep blues of the glazed tile floor. When he turned, he caught the brown flash of a sparrow darting into the low hedge under the lemon tree.
“He says the Warden-Commander himself requested an audience,” he worried. “He says the darkspawn are massing in the Wilds.”
Across from him, his companion stared down at the floor, his chin resting grave against his knuckles and his stern brow knotted over tired blue eyes. Nathaniel Howe had always been serious, quiet growing up in the shadow of his father, and seven years spent as the squire of a Marcher lord had done little to temper that early melancholy. Still, wintering as he was while the Grand Tourney gained enough energy for the new season, he was the closest thing to a friend to be found in Starkhaven’s labyrinthine palace, his judgement sound and his manners a comforting reminder of home.
“I should be going with you,” he said. “It’s my duty as much as yours to defend Ferelden.”
“Ser Rudolphe won’t spare you,” Alistair replied. Although the knight could be generous in his way, he also enjoyed the comforts that could only be provided by a bevy of squires. “If he even believes it to be a true Blight. Teyrn Loghain is kicking up a fuss, apparently.”
Nate’s mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile. “No doubt this is all some Orlesian plot.”
“Something like that.”
Silence fell heavily over them once more. In truth, nothing much could be said; the war stories they had grown up hearing by the fireside told of great battles against enemies that valour and sound strategy could defeat, not a horde of darkspawn that would come wave on wave and kill for the senseless pleasure of blood, like ants, driven by instinct to swallow everything in their path.
“Will you go by Highever?” Nate asked after a moment.
An image cut into Alistair’s mind of Castle Cousland burning, the orchards at its feet withered black with disease. “I… no. Denerim’s closer from Wycombe.”
“You can’t avoid her forever.”
Instead of answering, Alistair chose to watch the sparrow hunting for insects through the leaves, fluffing its dull feathers against the cold as a cloud passed over the sun and pressed its darkness into the already shaded courtyard. He did not need to answer. The truth had come spilling out in the bottle of Satinalia brandy they had shared the previous year, and now Nate knew every detail of how he had betrayed Rosslyn’s trust, then skulked away like a thieving dog. She had probably grown beyond him anyway, won accolades and admirers far better than –
“I know you’re still in love with her,” Nate said when nothing else filled the silence.
“What –?” he spluttered. “Still – I’m not –”
“It’s been obvious since you were fifteen.”
With a sigh, he gave in and slumped on the bench next to his friend, wistful for a few moments before when the conversation had been about darkspawn. “Not to her.”
He still recalled the day Fergus and Oriana had publicly announced their betrothal. Hiding in the gallery to avoid the adults who had all come to wish her brother well, they had stolen a carafe of deep Antivan red and giggled their way through the speeches, their own small rebellion against those who fawned over Rosslyn like a plaything and pretended the king’s unacknowledged bastard did not exist at all. She had been dressed in layers of samite that rippled in shades like winter fog, like her eyes, with enamelled brooches in the shape of laurel leaves to hold the tumbling night of her hair at bay like storm lanterns on the prow of a ship. That had been the first night he wondered what it would be like to loose the pins and let the silk of it fall through his fingers.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he continued, shaking off the memory. “When I go back, I’ll be fighting, and she’ll hate it but there’s no way her father will let her join him on the field. When it’s over…” He sighed. “Maybe. When it’s over.”
His mind turned to the others he had left behind, to Thea and her family in the alienage, the denizens of Redcliffe, and in between every farm and hold that would be swept away if the king could not turn the horde. He doubted a single child in Thedas had grown up without hearing stories of the Blights, or the unimaginable scale of destruction the darkspawn left in their wake. They were dark tales for dark winter nights – to think they might soon become a reality for everyone he gad ever known…
Trying for a smile, he turned to Nate and folded the letter away into a pocket. “You never know, maybe your father will call you back, too, and we can all take to the field together.”
“Perhaps I’ll write to him first, and see if I can glean anything before you finish packing.”
“Hey! I’m not that disorganised.”
“Of course not, Your Highness,” his friend replied in a placid voice. “And I’m off to join the Grey Wardens.”
#dragon age#dragon age fanfic#dragon age fanfiction#dragon age: origins#dragon age origins#da:o#alistair x cousland#alistair x warden#warden x alistair#cousland#warden cousland#rosslyn cousland#nathaniel howe
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For the DADWC: 'I knew it, you’re sick.’ 'Go away’ featuring Anders?
Happy Friday, Ann! I realize this doesn't so much feature Anders directly as occupy Nate's thoughts, but I hope you enjoy anyway 💜
For @dadrunkwriting
~~~
"Have you seen Anders?"
Nate looked up from his fletching as Aedan ambled in. "Not since this morning, what's he done now?"
Aedan snorted. "Why is that always your first question?"
"You know him as well as I do," he replied.
"Not quite, I should think," Aedan laughed. He sat down on the bench and grabbed a few feathers and split them with his belt knife. "He hasn't done anything, and that's actually the problem." He gave Nate a wry grin. "Well, ‘problem’ is a bit of an exaggeration, honestly. But Sigrun and Oghren were playing chicken on Vel and Zev's shoulders, and one thing led to another and now there are at least three broken bones between them, and the infirmary is completely empty."
Nate frowned at the sliced feather that Aedan handed to him. "You don't think he went back to Amaranthine, did you? To try to find his phylactery again?" The look of terror on Anders' face when Rylock had tried to trap them still haunted his dreams.
"If he did, he can't be more than a few hours’ walk down the road; even if he could ride well, which he can’t, he hates pulling up his robes." The for a horse was left unspoken, but the smirk on Aedan's face made it clear he was thinking it. "I'll go saddle up Urthemiel and head out."
Nate shook his head. "Still can't believe you named a prized Nevarran stallion after an archdemon."
"What should I have named him, then? Ser Pounce-A-Lot?"
After Aedan left, Nate finished making arrows from the last of the already-split feathers, then drummed his fingers on the table. Anders would be fine. No, Anders was fine. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about like Templars dogging his steps at every turn, or anti-mage sentiments in the general populace, or darkspawn still roaming after -
He stood up so quickly that he nearly tripped on the leg of the table. I'll just do a quick check, then finish these arrows.
His room was empty.
Mistress Woolsey was in the library, but reading something sideways and looking awfully flushed. Best not to interrupt that.
Oghren was in the kitchen, one arm in a sling, and drinking tea mournfully. "Where's your skirt, Nate?"
He arched an eyebrow. "My skirt?"
"Your man, the one in the damn dress. The rutting void is he? My arm hurts like pissing blood and Sparkefingers the wonderboy is missin'." Oghren took another sip of tea. "And this leaf water sucks if you don't dump have a tin of sugar in it, but the cook put the lumps up on top the shelf where I can't reach them, long-legged bastard."
Nate left him to his grumbling and kept looking. Out of habit, he ended up in the infirmary, where Velanna was patching up both Sigrun and Zevran in exasperation. She looked up when he walked in and pointed at the door. "Out. Unless you've got that blasted mage in your pocket, you're no help, so get out."
He got out. Velanna was never a good choice to debate with, and even less so when Sigrun was hurt. Next were the stables; unlikely, but still worth a look. Anders didn't like to ride horses, but he had helped the farriers and stable hands on a few occasions and was fond of them in a more general fashion. No luck. Not even up in the loft where they had - he coughed and checked around to see if anyone was watching the blush creep across his face, then kept searching.
Anders wasn't up on the ramparts, or snooping through Varel's desk. He wasn't in the chapel either, but Nate was scraping the bottom of the barrel and unsurprised. He didn’t bother to check the cellar. The fact that he hasn't seen Ser Pounce-A-Lot was worrisome. The cat went with Anders everywhere, so if he wasn't roaming the Keep, that meant Anders was . . . gone? But where? And why didn't he leave a note? No, why didn't he just come and tell Nate what was going on?
Unless . . .
He slapped his forehead and ran back to the barracks, past his own room, past Vel and Sigrun's, past Oghren's, down, down the hall to the very end. The only one with a window. Anders' room, the one he never used. As he turned he handle he heard an irritated groan, followed by a series of sneezes loud enough to make his teeth rattle.
And there Anders was. Stuffy and red eyed and miserable and huddled in his bed with Pounce draped over his side, but he was safe.
"I knew it, you're sick!" he almost crowed it in his relief.
Anders winced and pulled the pillow over his face. "Go away."
Nate sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed his hip before leaning down to kiss Anders' forehead. It was sweaty and a little grimy, but it didn't matter one bit. "Never."
#da drunk writing circle#dragon age#fanfic#nathaniel howe#warden cousland#anders#nanders#nathaniel howe x anders#sickfic#prompt fills
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You know, I’ve told a bunch of people on twitter about my account here, but then haven’t done much, so I think it’s time to post this art breeder picture I made of Nathaniel Howe. Not the first time I’ve posted it, but I’m ok with that. I still love this pixel man
#Nathaniel Howe#Dragon Age#Why couldn't we romance him#like seriously#the angst was right there#cousland x Howe is good#but so is Howe x Anyone else#Snarky and Flirty and thoughtful and kind#he's got it all
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Reforged in Dragon’s Fire- 15
New Chapter of the Howe x Cousland DA: Awakenings fic Here! Thanks for reading <3
...
“I thought it was the job of brothers to pick on their younger siblings,” Anders joked, but curiously.
“He was…” Nathaniel’s lips twisted. “A difficult person to pick on. He made a weapon of being the youngest. But Delilah and I used to fight fearsomely. Many a revenge we inflicted upon one another.”
Much to his surprise, Sigrun abruptly turned around. She’d gotten about ten feet in front of them; he’d presumed she wasn’t listening. Hopefully she hadn’t heard…well. He did regret the lie to Phoebe about his nephew, so perhaps it was better if it came out. Not that he’d do it himself.
“I found a doll under my bed in the keep. Does that have something to do with you?”
“That depends,” Nathaniel said. “Can you describe it?”
“Dusty and faded, mostly, but it had blue thread eyes, black braided hair, and no arms,” Sigrun said. “I meant to bring it at breakfast, but I was so tired. Too much noise here, and I’m a really light sleeper.”
Nathaniel smiled faintly, untainted nostalgia rising. That lack of bitterness was surprising, but perhaps it was only because Delilah was still alive. “Ah. Miss Maggie. She was my sister Delilah’s. It was her favorite doll.”
“Favorite, with no arms?” Sigrun asked dubiously.
She was still walking backwards, a poor idea in the mud in his opinion.
“We had a fight. I ripped off Maggie’s arms and hid them in places she would find later. I planned to do the same with the legs once she found them but forgot where I’d hid her.”
“What a sweetheart you were,” Sigrun said sardonically as Anders laughed.
Nathaniel’s eyes drew downwards as they walked up a small, drier rise in the pitted road, well aware that it meant mud on the down-slope. He caught it the instant Sigrun’s back foot slid rather than found purchase, the mud forming a well under her heel that would doubtless drag her down the slope.
Velanna and Oghren glanced back at them at his shout of warning, but his attention was on the dwarven woman.
Darting forward, he attempted to catch her arm and pull her to dry ground as she flailed but found himself dragged after her. Not to be crass, but Maker, she was heavier than her height implied. His heels stalled their descent for only a moment before the slick mud turned his gouge into a furrow, pulling him down in her wake.
Desperately trying to stop it, and only getting muddier by their efforts, both Nathaniel and Sigrun went sliding down the slope, her falling backwards onto her arse, him frantically trying to stop himself from tipping face-first.
He staggered, slipped, foot catching when he was almost to safety, pitching him down the last of the incline at a dangerous angle.
The short, but terrifying plunge came to a stop at Velanna and Phoebe’s feet, Nathaniel managing to land on his hands and not his face at the very least.
“Watch your step,” Anders belatedly called from the top of the hill, laughter in his voice.
Nathaniel grimaced, sitting back onto his heels and jerking his hands out of the muck, archery gloves caked in it. Wonderful. Splendid. How dignified.
Sigrun started laughing, mud clinging to her hair as Phoebe helped her to sit up, and then stand. She staggered upright, uselessly dusting off her rear end. “Well, that’s one way to get down a hill. You okay, Nathaniel?”
“I am just grateful you aren’t hurt,” he said, accepting Anders’ hand up, feeling the mud sucking at his knees. Disgusting.
The mage grinned, releasing him. “Chivalry isn’t dead, it’s just covered in mud.”
“Yes, thank you,” Nathaniel said, deadpan. “You have knobby knees.”
Anders gave him an offended look, and then glanced down at his bare shanks. “Remind me not to bother next time you get your nose broken. Un-grateful.”
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Sorry it took so long, but really proud of my latest chapter of my Nathaniel Howe x Cousland fanfiction, Break Me Twice. I sadly had COVID and final exams so this took about two weeks but the turnaround time should be much quicker now. Things are getting spicy. I can’t wait to bring in Alistair later on in this story and have a discussion about his and Cousland’s relationship.
Take a gander at it here if you’re interested!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/38595132?view_full_work=true
#alistair theirin#king alistair#alistair romance#dad alistair#dragon age#dragon age fanfiction#dafanfic#bioware#bioware romance#Nathaniel Howe#nathaniel howe romance#nathaniel howe x cousland#nathaniel howe x warden#alistair x warden#alistair x cousland#dragon age origins#dragon age awakening
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Male Cousland/Nathaniel Howe, Cousland/Nathaniel Howe
Characters: Nathaniel Howe, Male Cousland (Dragon Age), Cousland (Dragon Age), Bearnard Cousland
Additional Tags: Morning Sex, Armor, Leather, Love Confessions, Romantic Fluff, they are soft, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Kinktober, artober
Summary:
Nathaniel comes to bed from the night watch and wakes Bearnard for the start of his day.
Kinktober Prompt 4: Morning Sex
Artober Prompt 4: Armor
#nathaniel howe#warden cousland#nathaniel x warden#dragon age#dao#daa#kinktober#BTV artober#bearn cousland#dragon age oc
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Happy Fridayy~ For DADWC: "Are you wearing my shirt?" for Yvaine Cousland/Nathaniel Howe, or another pairing of your choice?
Summary: There are certain things one should not rush, including dressing in your commander’s quarters early in the morning.
a/n: For the DADWC @dadrunkwriting from @oxygenforthewicked who requested, “Are you wearing my shirt?” for Yvaine Cousland/Nathaniel Howe.
Stitches
“Warden-Commander!”
Oghren’s voice carried across the training yard and drew Nathaniel’s attention from the recruits’ performance. Even from this distance, her green eyes sparkled like flawless emeralds in the sunlight, cut to glint, shine, and cast the light dynamically. Everything about Yvaine Cousland, from her red hair to her height, seemed designed by the Maker to stand out from the gray skies of the northern coast of Ferelden.
Realizing he was staring; Howe quickly returned his gaze to the recruits under his charge. The four currently working at the bow were doing well, better than he expected. They may have been conscripted from hard lives for one equally as daunting, but they took to it well and with vigor. He could appreciate and understand their newfound dedication.
Her footsteps were not demure, like other ladies of her breeding and station. She moved with a warrior’s gate, power and resolve in every step, as if planting roots to keep her immovable in the face of any foe even here in Vigil’s Keep.
“Wilkes, you’re peeking. Keep your eyes on the spot until after the arrow impacts,” Nathaniel called across the line of men and women below him.
“Peeking, eh?” Yvaine said quietly.
His mouth twitched, but he did not take the bait. “Commander,” he offered in greeting instead.
“Warden.” Her voice held more trace of her stoic command presence. “For one with such a keen eye,” she began, turning to glance past his shoulder over the ramparts, “you might consider taking a little more care when dressing in the dim light of the pre-dawn.”
Nathaniel coughed a few times, looking from her face to the men below. “Collect your ammunition,” he called down. Then he turned his icy blue gaze fully onto her. “I thought—”
“You’re wearing my shirt,” she whispered so quietly the breeze could have disguised her words.
“Pardon,” he replied with a hint of alarm that widened his eyes.
“Look at your cuff.” She glanced back out over the land beyond the walls. To an observer it would very much appear as if the two of them were having a casual discussion about the state the training. Then with the barest hint of a smile on her lips, she turned and wandered down the rampart to speak with the men standing their watches.
His gaze followed her a moment before he looked toward his hand leaning on the pillar rather than grabbing the cuff of his shirt and studying it outright. There was a faint stitching along the edges, the barest hint of a scalloped edge. Around the button, he noticed finer stitches with brighter colors. Nathaniel swallowed and straightened as the recruits returned to their firing positions.
“Stance,” he called, his shoulders tightening. “Nock.” He didn’t have to call out anything after that. They would fire their volleys until their quivers ran dry, but his attention wasn’t on their performance at the moment. His thumb brushed over the embroidery before his eyes dropped for an instant to discover the Cousland laurel wreath.
Returning his gaze to the field, Nathaniel tried to tuck the cuff of his undershirt beneath his armor. Not convinced it would camouflage the error, he pulled his gloves from his belt and pulled them on. They stopped about halfway up his forearm. Surely no one would notice now, he assured himself. He would need to take care in the future. Far more care than he took that morning to be sure.
#Dragon Age#dadrunkwriting#Nathaniel Howe#Yvaine Cousland#Dragon Age Fanfiction#DADWC#Howe x Cousland#Morning After#Dressing in the Dark#Sharing Clothes#Unintentionally though it may be
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i love nathaniel howe so so much!!!! gimme kith
#i'm thinking about julian/nate 👉👈#i'm a simple gal i like nathaniel howe x warden cousland#and nate's just not ashara's type#ahh the angst of julian falling for the son of a man who killed his family#he would write so many letters about him to anora and anora would be so exasperated sjlsksks#'please husband just bed him already. it is obvious it's what both of you want'#sjsksjsj#julian and anora are definitely in love but she's cool with him having another partner#but not like. multiple#anyway!!! going insane thinking about this whole night bye#oc: julian#oc tag
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One-word prompts: Cake
Heather finally slips a morsel of cake into her mouth. The spongy texture and delicate cream are every bit as delicious as she hoped they’d be—
“Happy sixteenth birthday, Heather.”
Her moment of enjoyment ruined, she steels her disgruntled expression back into a semblance of politeness before setting down her plate and turning around. “Thank you, Nathaniel. If you’re looking for Fergus, I last saw him entertaining a small crowd near the mulled wine table.”
“I was looking for you, actually.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because it’s your birthday, too?”
“Oh. Well, you found me.” Now leave me alone with my cake!
He fidgets for a moment, gaze turned downward. Maybe he’s lost without a bow. Then he holds out his hand, a small pouch in his palm. “For you.”
Heather blinks and opens the pouch to find a bar of high-quality bowstring wax inside. “Oh, wow. Thank you.”
He’s still fidgeting. She arches an eyebrow. “What is it?”
“I’m… I’m glad you like it.” He leans close to kiss her cheek and then dashes away.
Cake temporarily forgotten, she stares at nothing as she tries to decipher meaning from the lingering pressure of his lips on her skin.
#Heather Cousland#non-Warden OC#dragon age fanfic#Heather's one-word prompts#Day 8: Cake#worldstate: Autumn Ice#Cousland x Nathaniel Howe#awkward teenagers (Heather and Fergus are twins in this worldstate)
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People you'd like to get to know better
Thank you @dutifullylazybread for tagging me! I never get to play tag games 🥹 it's an honor just to be here among such illustrious company 💕
✨Favorite ships✨
Ahhhh this is going to be so hard to narrow down considering how hard I'm capable of simping and shipping... so let's start with things I've either written or wanna start writing
Nathaniel Howe X Cousland DAO; durgetash for CERTAIN; rolan x tav BG3; solavellan DAI; im also a real sucker for tamlen x mahariel but content for that seems to be a bit scarce. Idk, there's certainly a lot more but I'm currently on a very strong fantasy kick.
✨Last film✨
So last actual feature length film? Dragon Age: Dawn of the Seeker. Was it good? Uh. Do I recommend it? Yes. Fun little Cassandra backstory and reminds me of Killer Bean. I guess this is like, their attempt at a show in between DA2 and DAI, kinda like a much less refined Absolution? But if we're counting series, then Cunk on Earth last night (philomena my beloved you're a treasure)
✨Last song✨
Surprising absolutely no one, it's Hozier. Like Real People Do. I am a simple woman, I see longing and angst and I go feral.
✨Currently reading✨
For school, reading Eaters of the Dead by Michael Crichton. For pleasure, reading Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks. For fics, I am currently obsessed with @dutifullylazybread's ongoing Rolan fic (go read it RIGHT NOW).
✨Craving✨
So. We went to a bakery on Saturday that had these chai scones and really good iced lattes and that's all I've wanted since then. If you're near Richmond, it's Minglewood Bake Shop and it smells like walking into heaven. Also saw many cute dogs while there, 10/10 perfect restaurant.
Tagging... AHHHH hold on hold on. @queeronaquest was already tagged but I second that, she's great. Also tagging @arlathvhenan and @ddxcrow, and @angelorgy (if you guys feel up to it)
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happy dadwc! how about “What did I do that made you think that?”, perhaps with Alistair/whoever you like?
Hi Mer, happy Friday!!
for @dadrunkwriting
Nate walked into the library, frowning at the letter from Weisshaupt. "Aeden this makes no sense at all, Avernus is in the records from 200 years ago, but -" A clatter made him look up, then immediately away. Aedan's shirt was half unbuttoned, and the bloody king was in his lap. "I, uh, sorry, I'll just -"
Aedan snorted. His fingers were in Alistair’s hair. "Yes, how dare you," he chuckled. "Walking into a public room and not checking for partially undressed commanders first."
Even while staring at the ceiling, he could see them untangling each other out of the corner of his eye. Best to just carry on with his report. "As I was saying, our local records don't match anything Weisshaupt sent back. It's like Sophia never told them he Joined."
More fumbling and another thud later, and both of them were standing, but adjusting their clothing rather meaningfully. Thank the Maker I didn't walk in a few minutes later.
"Given his interests, I'm not entirely surprised." Aedan plucked the letter from his hand and frowned at it. "It was a long shot anyway." He glanced back at Alistair. "Did you eat yet, your Highness?"
Alistair grinned and shook his head. "Even if I had, you know I'm still hungry."
"I'll grab us something, wait here." Aedan patted Nate's shoulder as he passed. It was a request, not an order, and even though he didn't want to be alone with Alistair, he'd do it because Aedan asked.
The silence left in the wake of Aedan’s quest for dinner was deafening. Any minute now, Nate expected the accusations to start, and he was bracing for the impact.
"Do you always look that uncomfortable? Is it the king thing?" Alistair asked suddenly. "I can hide the stupid circlet under a pillow, but you’d have to remind me to get it later; Anora would have my hide if I lost another one."
I'm sorry my father tried to kill you. Nate couldn't make the words come out, was too afraid to say it out loud in case Alistair didn't realize the last name wasn't a coincidence. He’d made those apologies to Oghren and Aedan with no trouble, but this was the king. A king with a far too striking resemblance to Nate’s first, well, not love - they’d been too young to have any long term plans beyond clumsy kisses and inexpert tugging - but his first fumble’s half-brother. Memories of the last time he’d seen Cailan made flush with decade-old embarrassment. "I - no. You're fine," he choked out.
"Hm, am I?" Alistair tilted his head curiously. "Then it must be that you're hiding a deep dark secret."
"W-what did I do to make you think that?" He knows. He knows and he's going to kill me.
He took a few steps closer, and Nate was overwhelmed and how big the king was - something in the Theirin line, clearly. Cailan had been the same, and Nate found himself licking his lips while backing away but still wondering exactly how far the similarities went. Nevermind that this was the bloody king and clearly in a relationship with his own bloody commander.
"Well, it could be that you're sweating like a horse brought in from a gallop." Alistair kept walking forward until Nate found himself pressed against the wall, and smiling wide and guilelessly. "Or perhaps all that panic in your eyes?" Just when Nate was about to give up all hope and fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness or at least a swift execution, Alistair stopped and winked conspiratorially. "Just tell me where Aedan hid the cheese and I'll ignore the whole 'father tried to kill me' thing. Monarch's honor."
#da drunk writing circle#dragon age#fanfic#warden cousland#alistair theirin#nathaniel howe#cheese#warden x alistair#prompt fills
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