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recreationalfanfics · 9 months

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An Unstable Atmosphere

Part 1

Summary: You attempt to escape when you wake up in the captain's quarters of the Morrigan.

Note: Yandere themes, somewhat unserious banter at the end, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story

When you wake up, your eyelids still feel heavy and you feel like a stranger in your body as you feel all sorts of pains and aches. Your stinging eyes have a harder time adjusting to the light, your muscles ache and creak as if they will give out from under you as you pull yourself up, and you touch your lip which feels puffy and bruised. When the dull pain makes you flinch, everything comes back to you. The mass murder of everyone you knew, the way you were beaten around by Templar footmen and…

And Shay.

Now in a panic, you throw the blanket off of your form and inspect the area around you. The first thing you realize is that you were below deck on a ship, and the second thing you realize is that it was specifically the Captain’s quarters judging from the desk of a scattered yet neat pile of paperwork and the giant portrait of the dreaded traitor himself. If you recalled the rumors and stories to be true, Shay was about only two or three years older than yourself when he became an official Assassin, but seeing the portrait and remembering his face honestly made it hard to picture. You had to give credit to the artist where it was due, they captured his imposing and austere eyes rather well that it sent shivers down your spine, but it only made it harder for you to picture that his aged and hardened face was ever an assassin. He truly looked like a Templar, hateful and evil.

You hesitantly step your feet onto the ground as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking in more details of the area. You still bore your robes and your hood seemed to be sitting on the back of the chair. Your paranoid eyes look at the door and then towards the window; as if a Templar was randomly going to jump out and attack you, but once you gain the piece of mind; you stand up and walk towards the chair to grab your robes and make your outfit whole once more. Despite the pounding in your chest and the overall awfulness of the situation, there is a small amount you gain as you pull your hood over your head and it gives you motivation.

You’re alive…for now. May as well keep testing Lady Fate.

You briefly glance over the papers but find nothing of use, you also realize that your wrist piece with your hidden blade was not attached to your robe and was nowhere to be found, but you weren’t really surprised by that realization. It wouldn’t have done you much good anyways, seeing as you were never really handy with weapons, but your mentors often told you that you had a gift for stealth and having the element of surprise on your side. The very least you can do for those mentors is believe in their words and in yourself as you get your boots on and walk towards the door, pressing your ear against it. The chatter is rather low and soft and you don’t hear the sound of many scuffling feet, not to mention that you still hear the sound of seagulls which is a very good sign that you’re still nearby land but the ship is definitely still moving.

They’re in the middle of casting off.

With a closing time gap, your thoughts come together to come up with a very poorly thought out plan but one you felt would be your best bet. You would certainly be outnumbered but if you were quick enough, you’d be able to escape the remaining guards below deck and everyone else above deck would be too busy readying the ship to notice you escaping right away, and that once you managed to get to shore; you’d either buy yourself enough time to get a headstart before they turned their ship around or they’d simply deem you unimportant and continue their sailing to do whatever high ranking templars as Shay did. Grabbing your pillows and blankets, you take a deep breath before slamming the door open and throwing them at the first two templars you see guarding your door. You don’t catch their panicked yelling and you knock over everything in your path until you find the stairs.

A little earlier, Shay was steering the boat; pondering over his own morals and choices. It was clear that while his crew didn’t voice it, they were all very confused why he of all people allowed the little assassin who was currently asleep in his quarters to live. Now that Shay thought about it, he couldn’t really understand it himself; obviously, it was unfortunate that someone that young became an assassin but you weren’t exactly the first novice assassin he had to face. Although, there was a huge difference between you and your unfortunate peers; while they foolishly overestimated their abilities and underestimated his experience because they equated their youth to superiority, you were just…helpless. Like a baby bird with a broken wing, at the mercy of the wolves around you, Shay just couldn’t help but want to take you under his wing and keep you safe. Unlike the others who were too arrogant and humbled in their last moments, there was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you die, and that in such a short amount of time; you’ve endeared yourself to him.

It was wrong, he thought to himself. The very thought of you being killed despite being a part of the organization that betrayed him long ago felt…wrong. As he tucked you in the bed of his quarters, his hand gently caressed the side of your face, and for a brief moment; he felt a sense of familial connection. One that he hadn’t felt in a long time since his dear friend Liam and he realized he could not lose it. He could not lose you. There was no doubt in Shay’s mind that you needed him, especially as his eyes glazed over the injuries on your face with disgust, but he also knew that he needed you in his life just as much. He needed to protect and watch over you. He needed to teach you the ways of the world and softly introduce you to harsh truths. He needed you to look up at him and see him as not a disgraced assassin or as an untrustworthy Templar but as an idol, a mentor, and maybe even a father. There was an oddly warm feeling in his heart at that thought but he is pulled out of that daze the moment he hears loud clattering coming from the hatch that led below deck and that soon enough, your hooded figure pops out from it and immediately darts towards the side of the ship.

“STOP THEM!” Shay roars, he feels his body instantly become hysterical.

Side-eyeing the dock, it was far away that you couldn’t jump on it and make your escape back to land but it was close enough that it would take just a few strokes and a climb up and you’d be gone. By yourself, all alone, in the big cruel world. While some part of Shay expected you to pull something like this, a large part of him was slightly impressed but mostly worried. After all, once you got off his ship; where would you run to? All nearby guilds were already killed and the ones who managed to flee had escaped and erased all tracks for you to follow. You weren’t even armed with a weapon and you had no money.

As he questioned your poorly thought-out idea after ordering his men to stop you, he also instantly turned his wheel to steer his ship further from the dock and more into the ocean. He yells out another order to go full sail and that immediately heightens the sense of urgency you had already. One of his men tries to tackle you but you duck out of the way and slide between the legs of another who tried to grab you in his arms. You reacted quicker than you did yesterday and it definitely impressed him and even reminded him of himself when he was younger.

“I’ve got ‘em, Captain!” The navigator beside him shouted, Shay heard the sound of him withdrawing his pistol and he immediately turned around to grab his arm and quickly aim it anywhere else that wasn’t you.

As the two men scuffled, you yelped when you heard the gunshot. Failing to realize that it was nowhere near you but also not really caring, you dodge the last of his men near the edge and you reach the edge and perch yourself on it. Shay catches a glimpse of you as you try not to think about the water below and that the distance isn’t getting any shorter the longer you wait.

“FULL SAIL!” Someone yells.

It doesn’t take long before the wind fills the sails and the change of speed is drastic. Much so that you stumble from your spot and yell as you fall over, your hand managing to grab the side.

“NO!” Shay cries, immediately bolting towards you.

The sea spray kisses your boots and you look back at the dock, amazed and upset by how quickly the ship got away but if you let go right now, maybe you could still make it. You pinch your nose and close your eyes to ready yourself for the water but as you let go of the side of the ship, two large hands grab your wrist. You’re nothing more than a rag doll as you’re roughly hoisted away from the side and onto the ship’s floor. You stare up and your heart drops in your chest as Shay kneels in front of you, much like he did yesterday, but this time he put a hand on your shoulder. It was a tight grip, one that despite his gloves and your robes, you could feel his nails digging into you like a predator desperately clutching onto its prey. His face looks worried but you don’t know why, maybe because his prisoner or hostage or whatever he saw you as nearly escaped.

“Do you know how reckless that was!?” He hisses at you, his eyes now narrowing.

Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your throat runs dry and you can’t seem to find a response. However, it didn’t really matter if you could or not because Shay quickly pulls you up to your feet and leads you back down below deck. He takes in the turned-over tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous things. His door swung a little most likely from the event that just occurred above deck. Then he finds his anger calming down and he briefly feels amused when he sees the blanket and pillow from his quarters haphazardly strewn on the ground outside, quickly gathering that you most likely threw them at the guards. Meanwhile, you struggle against his grasp and demand he let you go, knowing that it’d fall on deaf ears. Regardless of how you try to squirm out of it, it is all in vain.

He soon sits you on the bed as he slams the door shut, his other hand now grips your free shoulder and now it’s just you and him.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, trying not to be threatening but the frustration in his voice was clear. After a night of rest, you’re able to fake a brave face as you mimic his expression, furrowing your brows and trying to form your lips into a scowl as equally severe looking as his.

“Where are you taking me?” You shot back.

His expression changes, seeing you doing your best to look threatening, and he fights the urge to pinch your cheek fondly and tease you for it. Already, he feels an old part of himself reawaken, a more softer and tender side that he had thought years of being a Templar had washed away. When he pulls his hands away from you and crosses them over his chest, he becomes noticeably less angry but he still keeps his somber appearance.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to ask questions?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You simply respond with a, “Don’t care. Where are you taking me?”

The silence is loud, uncomfortably so. However, your apprehension soon turns into frustration. This man had murdered your found family, this man was a selfish self-righteous traitor, and not to mention that for some sick reason; he kept you alive. The very least he could do is give you some answers. You open your mouth to once again demand answers but he beats you to it.

“Here’s how this is gunna’ work now.” He begins finally, “I ask a question, you answer. Then you ask me, and I’ll answer.”

“How do I know you’ll be honest?”

The corners of his mouth upturned into a little smile, one that only increased the rage and fear brewing deeply within you.

“I’ll be as honest as you are. And trust me, I’ll know when you tell me a lie.” He answers, sounding somewhat genuine but your mind remains ever skeptical. Leaning on the side of his desk, arms still crossed, he gives a look that almost reminds you of a parent staring down their child, “Do you understand?”

You stay silent out of malice and spite for a while but then your eyes look to the side in defeat, “Yes…”

“Good. First question: What’s your name?”

“Hezekiah Needleman.”

His head lops to the side a little and he gives you a long stare, clearly not amused by your false answer, and you couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit smug at his reaction before you say: “Alright, fine…It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).”

“See how easy that was? Now, (Y/n), it’s your turn to ask a question-”

“Where are you taking me?” You demand once again.

“Home.”

It was a simple one-worded answer in any other situation, but in this context, it was like a baffling riddle. Raising more questions than answers, your expression becomes bewildered, “What do you mea-”

“Ah-ah, (Y/n). S’my turn,” He chides as unfolds his arms, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leans further onto it. You glare at him but stay silent so he can get his question over with, “Why did you join the assassins?”

This question takes you off guard and your hand reaches to your other arm and grips it, a visible sign of discomfort, and your eyes quickly sadden in such a way that Shay almost wants to take back his question, unsure of what wounds he might’ve just opened.

“They raised me, why wouldn’t I?” You say, hatred once again growing for the man who stood across from you.

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, his intrigue growing.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?” You snapped. He wants to say something, to have the last word, but even he admits to himself he walked into that one. So he silently nods, a quiet gesture that lets you know it’s your turn to ask a question.

“What do you mean you’re taking me ‘home’? Where is this ship going?”

Shay tries to figure out what he’s going to say, how he can explain it to you even though he struggles to really explain it himself.

“Back to my estate. Where I will train you and show you what the Brotherhood really is.”

You open your mouth, again frustrated with how vague and confusing his answers are but then you close your mouth, not wanting to set yourself up for another pointless tease from him. Shay, quite pleased with your lack of rebuttal, then asks you: “Now, what of your family?”

“Dead. Because of you,” Your tone is bitter and your eyes harden again, “but if you’re talking about my real family, I don’t know. I was told the Templars were responsible for my becoming an orphan.”

“Did the Brotherhood tell you that?”

“Yes. And if you think the words of an old traitor are gonna change my mind, then I wish you the best of luck.” You snarl at him.

Something about you calling him a “traitor” enrages him, definitely not towards you but that bitterness towards the Brotherhood grows at your words and you can see that your words stung him.

“You’ll find out very quickly, (Y/n), that I don’t need luck. I make my own.” He then straightens his back and goes towards the door of his quarters, “Question time is over.”

You stand up indignantly, demanding that he returns, but you’re only answer is the sound of the door closing; this time you hear it locking and you stand in silence before you growl and kick the leg of his bed.

Putting the keys to his quarters back into his pocket, Shay now understands just how tangled you are in the Brotherhood’s webs and how it’ll be hard work to get you to see the truth, but he is now more than certain that it’ll be for your own good. When he returns to the top of the deck, he feels raindrops and immediately looks up at the sky above.

The sky is grey and the clouds begin to darken. He knows that it'll just be a day or two of rain but he still thinks to himself that it'd be better to sail with caution. After all, he had precious cargo on board.

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evicted-oc · 1 year

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Showing off outfits today!

Thor: I felt like a crop top today

Loki: matching with donn today!

Hœnir: I'd rather show off my makeup.. I'm too sleepy to put on something cute

Óðr: I felt like wearing chains today~

Baldr: *waves and winks*

Höðr: just got back from the gym~

Donn: my tits might pop out of this-

Morrigan: little something to make my outfit cuter <3

Arawn: I just got out of the bath I only have a bath robe on

Lugh: eyes up here~

Balor: I don't have any clothes on. Unless you count the sheets

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ms-katonic-of-tamriel · 25 days

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Prodigal Dragonborn AU

Thinking of a timeslip AU where due to Misadventure, Lucien from PD ends up in some other timeline where time went another way, and he and Miraak didn't meet.

Started out as a Gol Hah Dov AU, and that would be interesting, Lucien seeing a timeline where Miraak has not only hooked up with someone else, but met Lucien, even got on with him, but never showered any of that obsessive devotion on him that Lucien First Acolyte of the Cult of Miraak got without even trying. Not to mention Chry reacting to a Lucien that has Slept With His Husband In The Other Timeline, and GHD Lucien losing his mind and panicking.

However, I couldn't actually write that as GHD is very much not my fic... but I could do one without the GHD elements, and a straight up AU of PD where Melinda fell to Miraak who successfully escaped Apocrypha. And because this Miraak is, to put it mildly, very much still a Dark Lord Dragonborn, he sets out to conquer the world, and two years or so after escaping, has killed Ulfric and taken over Windhelm and the Stormcloaks, legalised Talos worship after acknowledging Talos as an honoured and respected precursor Dragonborn worthy of worship, and is now High King of most of an independent Skyrim.

However, there is a resistance movement. A Certain Someone did not take too kindly to his partner getting killed, and raced back to Whiterun to raise the alarm. And so Whiterun is still independent under Jarl Balgruuf, but it's also home to the resistance militia known as the Merry Men, who wear jester outfits to hide their real faces and carry out guerrilla attacks on Miraak's cultists wherever they find them. No prizes for guessing who they're led by.

The only reason Whiterun has held out against three dragons, Bend Will and the massed ranks of the Cult of Miraak and Stormcloaks is down to Cicero having hit up Madanach, and seeing as the Reach's Jarl bent the knee to Miraak, the Forsworn responded with aid and a magical shield to keep Bend Will at bay. The jester masks are likewise proof against mind control magic.

Anyway PD Lucien finds himself in the midst of all of this, dressed in his First Acolyte robes, probably fell through an Eye of Magnus-caused anomaly. He doesn't fully realise anything's changed - but his resonant sphere isn't resonating, and he can't feel Miraak in his head any more although the bond is still there. Weird and suspicious, but fixable potentially so back to Winterhold he goes. He gets back to Winterhold hoping for tea, a nice cuddle with his husband and the attentions of his cat. Walks into the longhouse... no cat. No Morrigan or Argis or kids. Just Jarl Korir and court, who see the robes and mask, assume he's part of the cult and do at least make him welcome, wanting to know if he's with the High King.

Lucien is looking around at a longhouse still heated and lit with naked flames rather than the steampipes and electric lights he's used to, and is almost afraid to ask what happened to the College. Turns out the Saarthal dig never happened, Miraak nixed the expedition on arriving in Winterhold with his troops, partly to ingratiate himself with Korir and partly for some reason Miraak never did fully explain... as if he knew what they might find there. Anyway, Aren still leads the College, which has accepted the regime change quite easily. Attitudes to magic have undergone a dramatic shift what with a True Nord Dragonborn High King Who Legalised Talos Worship wielding it as capably as any College member.

Lucien just stares mutely at the falling-apart bridge that Miraak never bothered fixing... and with no siege at the College, never needed to destroy either, and resolves to go to Windhelm.

He's let in, cultists looking at the robes then wanting the mask removed, and on looking at his face, look very confused and wonder when he left the city, weren't you at the palace with Our Lord?

"Clearly not, you should take me back there, he's probably missed me!" Lucien says cheerfully. Inwardly he's panicking, because they recognised him?? King Miraak knows Lucien Flavius??

Apparently so. King Miraak is masked and robed, no one ever sees his real face. But he starts on seeing Lucien, especially the robes, because why is Lucien wearing robes like his.

"You are a guest at my court, Lucien, but do not presume more than that. Even Archmagister Viidost doesn't have robes like this... wait, did she enchant these???"

Viidost is summoned and denies ever having seen these in her life, in fact Mr. Flavius is upstairs having tea and studying some Dwemer volumes acquired off Calcelmo in Markarth right now, he's been there for hours. And then Miraak looks closely at Lucien and realises the vennesetiid do not behave normally around him At All, and that he's from a different timeline, and suddenly Miraak has All The Questions.

"Keep Mr Flavius occupied and ensure he does not come to find me for the next few hours. I have a... visitor to entertain."

The resulting conversation is enlightening for both. Won't write it all out, but the main plot beats are this:

King Miraak is not the tyrant he seems. He's actually been quite the enlightened ruler, with schools of Jhunal opening in his territory and the study of magic becoming a little more respectable among Nords.

The Bards College regularly send students on placement to Windhelm to learn history from King Miraak.

The Butcher of Windhelm got caught within weeks of Miraak taking over Windhelm, and the Grey Quarter's been renovated. Argonians and Dunmer are allowed in the city, as are the Khajiit subject to skooma and stolen goods searches.

The Jarls serving him are actually mostly loyal. Laila Law-Giver was restored to Riften after Season Unending's events, and Maven was Bend Willed into submission. That led to Mercer Frey's execution and the return of the Skeleton Key, and Karliah is now a loyal agent of Miraak's. The Guild operates along similar lines to Ankh-Morpork's now. ;)

With Cidhna Mine no longer a prison in Markarth, the Reach is rather more peaceful and the Forsworn are haemorrhaging recruits. Miraak's yet to fight them full on, but he's got plans.

Miraak smashed the Dawnguard questline, brutally slaughtering Harkon personally. He's got Auriel's Bow mounted on his wall but rarely uses it. Serana lives at his court and is one of his closest friends and advisors. Isran is Miraak's right hand in the Rift. (Karliah's the left.)

Alliance agreement signed with Morrowind, who recognised the Free Kingdom of Skyrim and have an Embassy in Eastmarch.

This timeline's Lucien arrived at Windhelm not long before PD Lucien, hoping King Miraak might assist with an expedition to Solstheim to investigate Dumzbthar. This timeline's Lucien is a lot more naive and sheltered and innocent, and fascinated to meet a timeline traveller! Still less a version of him! Goodness, you must tell me all about it.

PD Lucien gives an edited version to his counterpart... but he tells Miraak the truth, seeing the man's not all evil, and even attempts to flirt with him, reasoning it's not cheating to get close to his timeline's equivalent of his husband, is it? It doesn't quite go according to plan but while sex doesn't happen (Lucien is secretly OK with that), an emotional tie does form.

Plot Twist! This timeline's Lucien was working for the Merry Men, hoping to lure Miraak out to Dumzbthar in person where Cicero is lying in wait, waiting for revenge.

Alas for PD Lucien having warned Miraak about what's down there, and that Melinda's partner was an Imperial redhead named Cicero who was an ex-assassin who owned a jester's outfit. Miraak instantly sees the Merry Men connection.

Plot Twist number two - Miraak never died so he still has a lot of Daedric corruption going on. The reason he never removes the mask is that he's got sickly pale grey skin with mottled black blood vessels and completely dark eyes with blue irises the only relief. His tongue and gums are black as well as his blood. Hardly anyone's seen it but he'd not survive long if his real face was ever seen. Miraak rips the mask off to show PD Lucien this after he tries to chat him up, but when Lucien reacts with genuine sadness and kindness instead of revulsion, that's when the emotional barriers give way. A strong friendship forms, and Miraak tells PD Lucien his husband is lucky to have him. Miraak's sense of honour places PD Lucien off limits romantically and sexually, for which Lucien is frankly relieved. But Miraak, after receiving a positive reaction from one Lucien, starts looking thoughtfully at the other one.

Not entirely sure how it'd all work out, especially as I don't normally write the Forsworn as antagonists, nor Cicero, who, let's face it, isn't surviving this.

I'm thinking PD Lucien somehow managing to persuade the other Lucien to switch sides and share his intel on the Merry Men. Dumzbthar trip happens, Cicero joins the party not realising Miraak knows who he is, turns traitor around the Oblivion Gate and PD Lucien gets in the way of the knives just as the portal opens behind Cicero and the last thing he sees before passing out is two Miraaks, one of whom is slaughtering Cicero while the other is healing him and telling him to hold on.

PD Lucien wakes up and suddenly realises the bond is there, and he can feel Saviik, and then realises GRIGIO is purring on his chest, and opens his eyes to see his perfectly healthy husband holding his hand, tears in his eyes.

Took Dumzbthar the longest time to get a lock on the resonant sphere's plane of existence, but Saviik had faith Lucien in any universe would wind up at Dumzbthar eventually and so it has proved. This timeline's Lucien managed to get the facility under control, and now King Miraak has a mighty Dwemer army plus the Liisunvaar at his disposal.

"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, isn't that bad? Aren't you afraid what he might do with it?"

Saviik laughs, wiping tears away. "Niid, lokaali. My first impression of him was you moving to save his life, and him saving yours with his healing magic. You are clearly convinced he's not beyond redemption, and he clearly treasures you. Also we have spoken. He speaks very highly of you and sees you as a true friend, and reassured me he has not taken advantage of you. In return, I have told him the Reachfolk have his daughter and grandson living peacefully among them, and also pointed him Matriarch Keirine's way. If he goes in peace to her, and promises to spare her people, she might help him be healed."

PD Lucien goes home with Saviik to live happily ever after. King Miraak sees him off with the other Lucien at his side, who not-so-secretly hero-worshipped the dashing First Acolyte who was smart and brave and heroic and all the things he's not.

King Miraak is a bit surprised to hear this, telling him he, Lucien of this timeline, is the reason Miraak now has a submarine and automaton army, and that while PD Lucien's stories may have inspired, who is going to help him bring steam power and electricity to his domain once it has peace, hmm?

"What... you don't mean me, do you?" Lucien gasps, going pink, and Miraak nods.

"Yes, Court Scientist Lucien, of course I do."

Lucien is delighted, accepts, wait, he's not going to use the machines to level Whiterun, is he?

No, in fact it turns out with a lot of the Merry Man leadership dead on Solstheim, the militia band falls apart. Balgruuf is a pragmatist at heart and a secret Talos worshipper to boot and agrees to talks now he doesn't have a psychotic motley-clad widower in his court to worry about.

As for the Forsworn, it turns out Madanach is ill and dying and the Forsworn are on their knees. Keirine is the one to agree to a surrender in return for their lives and help for her brother.

One Dwemer oxygen tank for his breathing, and Miraak is able to craft a Shout to sort his mind out. Madanach is, if not pleased at realising he's got to talk terms with Igmund, at least grateful for his life back, even if this is going to require regular shipments of cylinders for the breathing apparatus and regular restoration treatments off Miraak personally to really fix his lungs. How much is this going to cost... all you want is a few hours to talk to Morrigan? Sold.

Keirine's fascinated by the Daedric corruption, but is unsure how to fix. She's never seen anything like it. Still, there are many kinds of Daedric corruption, and a ritual to fix another kind might work on this too. Off to Morthal's summoning circle for a reworked version of the vampirism cure, and Miraak's unstained once more.

Lucien was along for the ride, for science of course, and is delighted Miraak's cured, but also a little sad.

"I suppose you'll be going unmasked more often. Everyone is going to want a piece of you now. Goodness, you're probably going to get suitors! I... oh."

Crestfallen Lucien, who's barely been away from the High King's side since the other Lucien went home... only when Miraak returned to Windhelm and Lucien stayed at Dumzbthar to research more, and they wrote constantly even then. Lucien had seen the stains, and like his counterpart, reacted with sympathy... and a cuddle. Miraak had immediately given him Hugging Privileges and Lucien had enjoyed being in the Inner Circle very much, even if it was blindingly obvious First Acolyte Lucien was definitely the handsomer, smarter and more accomplished of the two of them.

"He is that way because of my influence," Miraak had told him once, smiling at him. "Shall we see what I influence you towards?"

So far, other than long, lengthy discussions about Dwemer engineering, the Dragon Cult, and anything else Lucien had questions about, he wasn't sure exactly what that had entailed. But Miraak had seemed to enjoy keeping him close by and taking him with him when travelling. Mostly to mind the Dwemer machines but Lucien had sometimes wondered.

Regardless, Miraak had seemed to want to spend most of his free time with Lucien, and Lucien had loved the attention... except if Miraak got married, Lucien supposed the new queen might not want the Court Scientist showing up to talk her husband's ear off until the early hours of the morning.

He needn't have worried. Miraak saw all too clearly and asked gently if the idea of Miraak getting married to another and having no time left for Lucien bothered him. Lucien nodded sadly, and then Miraak smiled, leaned down and kissed him, fingers caressing his cheek.

"I already have an heir, and don't need marriage to cement alliances with three dragons at my disposal. In fact, the only power I would ally with that is not already in touch is the Empire to the south. Do you think they would listen if word reached them one of their young nobles was going to be my consort? Do you think your family have enough court influence to persuade the Emperor to be reasonable?"

"I'll ask," Lucien breathes, pink and tearful and oh goodness, the High King just kissed him and proposed. Which is all a bit too much, a LOT too much... but of course he wants to, he's spent months staring at the First Acolyte version of himself getting cosy with the High King and the two of them seeming quite happy together, with Lucien wishing he was even a tenth that cool. Apparently the High King seems to think he's halfway there already.

"This isn't just because the First Acolyte got away, is it" Lucien has to ask. Miraak shakes his head.

"No. He was never mine to have. I was always intrigued by him but I knew he was pledged to another version of me, and knew he'd be thinking of that other man the whole time. I enjoyed his company and friendship but never took him to bed. You though. You're not pledged to anyone. You could be mine. I have been thinking that even while he was still here, but was never sure if you felt the same. Until now."

Lucien isn't sure what to say to that, so settles for a hug instead, accepts the proposal on condition they take things slowly in the bedroom, to which Miraak actually agrees.

Peace talks happen. His mother's instrumental in the whole deal. A treaty and trade agreement eventually result, and peace comes to Tamriel at last. And of course, Lucien gets legally united with Miraak, and physically reunited with his cat.

#prodigal dragonborn #au fanfic #miraak #lucien flavius #skyrim

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vigilskeep · 8 months

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✍️ + morrigan?

only 22 morrigans and a lot of them are very early in development... so have this which always makes me laugh even though it’s definitively not what you were looking for

Zevran blinked at them. The assortment of Wardens blinked at him.

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maker’s breath,” she said.

“Commander, who is this?” snapped one of them, a rather fearsome-looking Dalish mage with green magical energy still crackling between her hands. She saw she’d gotten his attention, and scowled at him from under choppy locks of fair hair. Zevran was reminded rather fiercely of Morrigan. Where does his dear Warden find such people?

“We heard someone breaking into the Keep,” says another in a rush, this one a dwarven woman with a full face of tattoos. “We thought—”

“You’d make enough noise to alert any assassin to your presence?” says Minerva. Zevran can hear the amusement now sneaking into her voice, though he’s not sure these poor young Wardens can. “Nathaniel, I thought better of you.”

A dark-haired human with a terrible misuse of his Maker-given facial hair—Nathaniel, presumably—scowled. “You try stealth with this lot traipsing after you. Anders couldn’t even keep his mouth shut from here to the—”

“It was taking too long!” protests a taller human, a mage with his dark blond hair tied loosely back from his face, wearing fine robes of Tevinter make and a single earring that gleamed gold. “Speaking as the healer, I do rather like to get to my friends before they’re actually dead.”

“Anders is right,” says a man who looks, well, suspiciously like a corpse. Zevran has the sudden alarming idea that some Grey Wardens might die and then still get up to do their jobs. It does sound like something Minerva would do. “The Warden-Commander’s safety was paramount.”

Anders points emphatically in the corpse’s direction. Nathaniel makes a short, sharp huff. The Dalish mage opens her mouth—

“If I may,” says Zevran, and he offers a small bow.

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unlikelysaintdelele · 4 months

Text

I wanna talk about my warden, so I'm gonna do that. Meet Adalia Amell.

Loyal to the Circle and her friends. Finds some piece of mind by following the Chantry, but wouldn't go so far as to call herself an Andrastian. She likes pretty dresses and reading books, from history to fiction. It's her only way to experience the outside world. She's rather studious and crafty, so she excelled in herbalism and poison-making. Her spell focus was in Elements (ice and electricity) and Spirit (death and telekinesis). But she was also restless, so she developed a silver tongue that allowed her to sneak around as she pleased and get her hands on whatever she desperately wanted in the moment. She completely lacks survival skills and has no real skill in fighting, only the theoretical sort. From all those books, of course. And she's kind. She loves doing things for other people. You could say her love language is acts of service.

She finds Cullen's crush on her endearing and likes pretending to be oblivious about it because of how he stutters. Is something wrong? Why are you so flushed, Cullen? Are you feeling sick? Here, let me check. However, she gets easily embarrassed if Jowan pokes fun at her about it. As a true child of the Circle, she never once attempts to pursue anything and simply leaves it as a small fancy. This overall leaves many under the impression that she has no feelings for Cullen and is barely aware of his affections got her. Her devastation to hearing what he said during their reunion, when the Circle was overtaken by demons, ran deep. She never loved him, but she always adored him. He would forever be her first Maybe.

When Jowan approaches her about destroying his Phylactery, she runs straight to the First Enchanter. She wants to help her best friend, but she simply cannot go against everything she knows as right. When she hears whispers of him practicing blood magic, she's naturally in denial. Doesn't believe up until he uses it to escape. When she reunites with him at Redcliffe, it's messy and hurt. He's apologetic but trust has been broken so she leaves him in the cell. After healing Arl Eamon, she has him sent back to the Circle. He is a Circle mage and he will be dealt with as such.

She was awestruck by Duncan pretty much the moment she met him. A Grey Warden! When she was chosen by him, she was excited and nervous but oh so eager to get out of the Circle because she would finally see the outside world. She was also annoyed because Greagoir wasn't listening to anything she or the First Enchanter were saying. She wouldn't dare betray the Circle. So it was either leave and see the world or stay and face unjust punishment. That's not the kindest situation to being pushed out of your own home. He low-key became a bit of a father figure. The First Enchanter was more like a Grandpa.

She's wary of Alistair when they first meet because of his Templar background but quickly warms up to him because of his humor. Jokes are good. She also likes the other recruits, even flirts with one of them, but doesn't bother to get to know anyone in detail because she assumes there will be time for that later... which was false. She definitely felt fear during the joining. Blinding, sickening fear. She did not want to die after barely stepping outside of the Circle. It was her desire to experience the world that overpowered her fear of death. She did not want to die, so she simply refused to accept that as an option. So she drank. And she survived.

She loves Morrigan. She finds her bitchy practicality amusing, and her bizarre childhood sad but also... kinda cool? What do you mean you shapeshifted to swipe a pretty mirror? Can you show me how to do that? She also finds her style fascinating as it's so different from the conservative Circle robes. It's almost definitely a one-sided friendship in the beginning, but the small twinge of sadness when they speak before going after the Archdemon... it's enough for Adalia to never hate her. She would never search for Morrigan after that.

Leliana is a completely different story. It's like she stumbled upon a long lost best friend she never knew she had. They bonded so quickly no one would've known they had just met a week ago. Adalia loved to hear the stories of Leliana's travels, and they would even gossip about Adalia's trysts with...

Alistair! How he wormed his way into her heart. They relied on each other when they were left to fight off the demons in the tower in Ostagar. It only deepened when they became the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, the only ones left who could understand what the other was going through. The nightmares. The being hunted down. Loghain's betrayal that resulted in Duncan's death. They found comfort in each other. Comfort that became clumsy flirting (from Alistair) and amused teasing (from Adalia) to frantic kisses stolen in the night that became complete trust and what little happiness they could find during the Blight. She comforted him after Goldana because he was kind and deserved to know his kindess was not a waste.

She supported Anora's bid for the throne because Alistair didn't want to be King and she never quite understood the need for maintaining bloodline within nobility. She was a Circle mage, where the children of nobility were stripped of their title and all birthrights the moment they walked in. To her, blood wasn't what mattered but rather capability and willingness. She had no doubt that Alistair would eventually grow into his role of he became King, but she didn't think it right to force him into a role he didn't even want. That was until Morrigan's ritual. For the first time, she would break away from everything that she had been taught. Not because she wasn't ready to sacrifice her life for all of Ferelden. But because she knew Alistair would follow her anywhere and would die protecting her. He would sacrifice himself so she could live. Not wanting to imagine a life without him, she selfishly clung to their love. Because of their trust in each other, Alistair reluctantly went through with the ritual.

Back to her friends! She found it rather upsetting that Sten didn't seem to like her. She found him hard to understand at first. She kept giving him paintings and prodding him about why he was caged. They eventually formed a deep respect for each other and their differences. Adalia finding him his sword definitely helped a bit. She also liked hearing his stories about the Qunari.

Zevran! Hmm.. annoying but funny. She thought it was hilarious how eager he was to switch sides if it meant he lived. She also loved hearing his wild stories as a Crow, especially with his Antivan accent. Her party thought she was foolish for trusting him, but Zevran was her most loyal friend at the end of the day. It probably helped that they shared the same sense of dry humor.

Oghren.. was too stupid and bizarre to hate. There was also some respect because, though he was a horn dog who would wander out of the marriage bed, he had a loyal heart. They weren't the closest, but they were friendly and would often chat at camp.

Wynne! Lovely Wynne! She became a grandma figure to Adalia. She took Wynne's advice to heart, even when she disagreed. She was particularly hurt by Wynne's first opinion about her relationship with Alistair. She knew there was some truth to Wynne's words, but she also thought Wynne was wrong about this. Of all things, what she had with Alistair was not wrong, was not bad. She also adores Wynne's naughtier side. Like how she would tease Alistair.

Some last details! She could not be bribed into evil acts and always sought compromise when she could. The Dalish lived and the werewolf curse was broken. She shut down the slave trade and saved the elder. She persuaded the demon in Connor to leave forever. She named her Mabari Firulais, making it ironic when someone would claim the dog was full of fleas. She was an Arcane Warrior and Shapeshifter. and she ran off into the sunset with the love of her life (and zevran, because he wanted to come along).

#dragon age alistair #dragon age origins #dragon age #warden amell

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haledamage · 1 year

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OKAY. Now that I'm home: Dragon Age questions Essentials 7 + 8, Life 3, 6, 10, Party 7, Codex 10 + 11 for all of them, and then whichever question you'd like to answer most for each of them from the game-specific sections. :3

Essentials: 7. How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

Cait Cousland: in her downtime, she's a basic shirt-and-breeches girl. low effort, easy to move in. she usually wears her Grey Warden armor while fighting, leather with a light metal breastplate and chainmail, and she also has basic leather armor for when she needs to appear unaffiliated. but she's still a noblewoman, and knows how to dress to impress; she has a collection of nice dresses for fancy needs (mostly blue or grey, the girl has a color palette and is sticking with it), as well as a few suits for when she prefers to be fancy but also wear pants.

Carah Amell: robes. robes, robes, robes for every occasion. comfy robes for downtime, fancy robes for formal settings, slightly-armored robes for combat that bear the Grey Warden insignia. there is a reason mages where robes and that reason is that they are comfortable as hell. her colors are green and blue

Evie Hawke: Evie likes to have fun with clothes. no real preference between pants and dresses, but she's definitely the type to wear sneakers with her formalwear or show up to the Hanged Man way overdressed for a card game. and she's a mage, so she doesn't differentiate much between "day clothes" and "fight clothes". her colors are red, black, and orange

Bran Trevelyan: despite the big hammer and androgynous name, Branwyn is the girliest of all of them. she wears heavy armor while fighting, though usually scalemail rather than full plate, for the sake of mobility, but outside of combat she loves a pretty dress or a velvet waistcoat. in game, she wears the Venture Capital variation. her colors are pink and white

Essentials: 8. Do they have any notable scars, markings, tattoos, etc.?

Cait is covered in scars, but the most significant are the one on her forehead (from the Landsmeet. Shield Bash sucks when you are on the receiving end), one below her left collarbone (darkspawn arrow, Ostagar), and a sort of Lichtenberg figure-like scar up her spine from the Archdemon (I headcanon that even though Morrigan's ritual kept the Wardens from dying, the Archdemon's death still left a physical mark on all the Wardens near it when it died)

Carah is a Spirit Healer, so she doesn't have many scars. the only one she really has is the same Archdemon one Cait has. but as far as "markings" go, what she lacks in scars she makes up for in freckles. just. so many

Evie has the same freckles as her cousin, as well as the same magical specialization, so she only has one major scar (well, two: an entrance wound and an exit wound. she got lightly stabbed by a certain Arishok. lightly). I feel like she has tattoos of some kind, but I've never really figured out what they are beyond the fact of their existence

Bran has a few scars on her face (one that crosses her right eye and another across the left side of her lips) that she got by taking a really stupid dare as a kid. she also has a nasty scar along her right hip and thigh from That One Fall when Corypheus attacks Haven. and, y'know, her left arm is amputated below the elbow post-Tresspasser. but considering that she's a career soldier, she has surprisingly few scars. she also has a tattoo that takes up most of her right bicep, it's a knotwork variation on the Trevelyan family crest, and has a series of green dots tattooed around her left eye that she got after she joined the Inquisition

Life: 3. How many languages do they speak? Do they have any sort of accent?

Cait speaks Ferelden, Common, and knows a tiny bit of Orlesian and Antivan, but that's really it. She has a pretty standard Ferelden accent, though it still gives away her noble background even though she hasn't been a noble for a decade now

Carah speaks Common, Ferelden, Orlesian, Ander, Antivan, Tevene, and a bit of Elvish. you've gotta find some way to occupy yourself in the Circle. she has what I call a "Circle accent" which is vaguely Ferelden in her case, but with bits of other accents picked up from other mages.

Evie speaks Common, Ferelden, Orlesian, and a little Tevene. Free Marches languages, essentially. she has a Ferelden accent, though it goes a bit Marcher after a decade in Kirkwall

Bran speaks Common, Ferelden, and Orlesian, and has a thick Marcher (Scottish) accent, like Sebastian's.

gonna put the rest under a cut because this got really long 😅

Life: 6. Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

Carah and Evie don't have much attachment to their birth cultures. Carah doesn't remember the Free Marches, and everything she knows about Ferelden she learned after she became a Warden. Evie has always lived expecting to either have to run away or get taken away when people find out she's a mage, so she never let herself get attached to Ferelden or its people much.

Cait and Bran are both very proud of where they're from. Cait shares her country's love of dogs and freedom and the stubborn prejudice against all things Orlesian, and she loves the rainy season even when it rains for two weeks nonstop. Bran shares the Marches love of independence, but specifically Ostwick seems to have a love of whimsy and drama that she shares.

Life: 10. Have they ever been seriously injured? What was the outcome?

I answered this for Cait here!

I don't think Carah's ever been seriously injured, actually. except for at Ostagar, of course.

The Arishok kicked Evie's ass. to this day, she still has no idea how she won that duel

Bran almost died escaping Corypheus's assault on Haven, and got pretty fucked up during both the mages' and templars' recruitment (yes, I headcanon that she recruited both. peace should have been an option, dammit. I think it would have been more interesting if both Samson and Calpernia were there as well)

Party: 7. How did their relationship progress? If they’re a canon romance option, is their story different from the way the game presents it?

Carah was smitten with Leliana from the moment she first saw her. there's no real drama or issues with them when it comes to romance, they just slowly fell in love while on a mission to save the world. wlw fairytale romance stuff, fluffy and sweet

I did all the DA2 romances with Evie, and I love all of them, but I think her canon romance is with Fenris. which was... rocky, to say the least. every time they tried to get together, something came in and tore them apart. but they never hid or shied away from how they felt, and they do eventually find their way to a happy ending

Bran and Blackwall are very flirtatious from the beginning. the most sexually charged, even more than Cait/Zev. she takes the whole Rainier reveal pretty calmly, all things considered, but Blackwall/Thom insists that they start over after the truth about him comes out. so Bran, lucky lady that she is, gets courted twice; once by Warden-Constable Gordan Blackwall and once by Thom Rainier

(I also ship Bran/Barris, but I haven't figured out many details about that other than THEY'D BE REALLY CUTE OKAY)

I put Cait last just because she has 3 "canon" romances and I can't pick which one I like best. her actual-in-game-canon-romance is Zevran, who she falls into bed with pretty much immediately. they fall in love much more slowly, and are even slower to admit it.

not-possible-in-game-romance #1 is Nathaniel Howe, who Cait was romantically involved with when they were teenagers until he went to the Free Marches. he comes home to find his home belongs to the Wardens, and the one in charge is his old girlfriend. childhood friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers

not-possible-in-game-romance #2 is Loghain Mac Tir, who Cait ends up befriending accidentally after she spares him at the Landsmeet. they have similar bleak practical outlooks on the world and get along surprisingly well, leading to a close friendship neither of them expected. it takes a long time to admit any romantic feelings, for lots of reasons (like the fact that they've tried to kill each other several times, and the huge age difference), but they get there eventually

Codex: 10. Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

answered here for Cait!

Carah loves cats. and nugs. she and Leliana probably have a ridiculous amount of both

Evie is also a cat lover (and of course loves her mabari, Rex). hates deepstalkers so so so much. their faces are creepy and they sneak around in the dark and just... gross. no thanks

Bran specifically hates Lord Woolsley. bloody demon goat bastard.

Codex: 11. Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs?

Carah does! not just because her girlfriend's a bard, but she's always enjoyed poetry and songs and the stories people tell to explain the unexplainable

Cait has always liked war stories, or stories of great heroes. except the ones people started writing about her. could do with less of those

Evie knows a bawdy tavern song or two but beyond that her favorite stories are always Varric's

Bran also likes Varric's stories, and Maryden's songs, but she's recently gained a particular appreciation for "less popular" stories about famous heroes. not the stories of the grand things they did, but stories of little things. the day to day lives of people before they became famous.

AND THEN, for a specific question for each of them:

Cait Cousland:

Origins: 17. What did they think of Anora? How did they feel about her betraying them?

Cait adores Anora. she's shrewd and intelligent and a good queen, who understands the balance she has to maintain between what the people want and what the country needs. the two of them become good friends

and Anora didn't betray Cait at the Landsmeet. Cait followed through on the promises she made Anora, and Anora returned the favor. funny how that works

Carah Amell:

Origins: 13. Did they help protect Redcliffe? What happened to Connor? How did they deal with Jowan?

look, you know I had to do the Jowan question 😁

Carah protected Redcliffe, and managed to keep everyone alive overnight. for Connor, she brought in mages from the Circle, and went into the Fade herself to get him un-possessed

for Jowan, I go a little off-canon. she convinces him to leave while she deals with the Connor situation (because she doesn't want the Circle getting their hands on him), and then they meet up again later and he travels with the party for a while. he's her oldest and best friend, and she's going to protect him dammit

Evie Hawke:

DA2: 5. What was their remaining sibling’s fate?

Carver became a Grey Warden, and he and Cait become besties (after a bit of an initial personality clash). he also, once he has time to grow up outside of his big sister's shadow, becomes a great leader in his own right, and mends his relationship with Evie

bonus, DA2: 12. How did they feel about becoming the Champion of Kirkwall?

Bran Trevelyan:

Inquisition: 4. Do they approach the Mages or the Templars for help? Did they conscript or ally themselves with their respective faction? How do they feel about their rival (Calpernia or Samson)?

as I said, I headcanon that she was able to ally with both factions and then literally sits down with Fiona, Barris, and her advisors (and maybe Cassandra and her sister Moira, who is a mage and part of her inner circle) and forces them to have an adult conversation and reach an actual compromise

but in-game, Bran sides with the templars. while I personally think the mages are the "right" side, I like the templar quest better, and I find Calpernia and Barris more compelling characters than Fiona and Samson. she choses to ally with them, not conscript them, and she understands Calpernia's motivations and sympathizes with her. they manage to part of peaceful terms, and I like to think maybe become penpals someday after Calpernia returns to Tevinter

and also Inquisition: 8. What did their Nightmare appear as in the Fade? What was on their gravestone?

The Nightmare: Branwyn... the leader of the Inquisition. Herald of Andraste. Do you think this will finally get your parents to notice you? They haven't even realized you're gone...

and her gravestone reads: Branwyn: Uselessness

#cait cousland #carah amell #evie hawke #bran trevelyan #carah 🤝 trinne: jowan defense squad #(irt bran's nightmare: she's the youngest of six children and felt overshadowed by her siblings most of her life #its a Thing with her)#EDITED BECAUSE I'M A DUMMY and forgot bran's face tattoo that I can literally see in every single screenshot of her oops

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thiefbird · 2 years

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Alistair meeting Anders again after Anora makes him go after Dirthail 👀👀👀

I had a fun idea for this! For @dadrunkwriting

Alistair rushed up the stairs to Dirth's quarters, dodging servants and junior Wardens as he went. He'd never been up here, had barely ever set foot in Vigil's Keep, really. Thankfully the senechal had given him detailed instructions on how to get there, or else he'd have been completely lost

The hallway at the top of the stairs was dauntingly long, and Alistair lowed his pace, eyeing each door nervously. The senechal had advised him that Morrigan's quarters were on this hall, too, and the Howe's, as Warden-Constable, neither of which he relished seeing. Morrigan because of their long-lasting rivalry, and Nathaniel Howe because of murdering his father.

Though Dirthail had been involved in the murdering, and by all accounts, he and Howe were perfectly amiable. More amiable than Dirth and Alistair in recent years.

And didn't that sting? Alistair knew he had been the one to pull away, but still. Dirth could have reached out, could have apologised.

Alistair finally made it to the end of the hall, and without knocking, burst into the grand, yet cosy, quarters.

A fire was gently roaring in the hearth, Barkspawn snoring gently in front of it. And prone on the couch was...

A decidedly naked blond man, posed provocatively, and fast asleep.

"Oh dear Maker! Alistair exclaimed, waking both the man and the mabari as he covered his eyes.

The blond man screamed, hands flying to cover his crotch. "What the fuck?!" he shouted indignantly. "Who in the Fade are- King Alistair?!"

Alistair's face was burning red as he peeked out from behind his fingers. The man had tossed a pillow into his lap and was now leaning back on the couch, completely comfortable in his nudity now the shock had passed.

"Err- yes. That's me? I, uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

The naked man snorted, head lolling back on the armrest. "Of course you don't. I am Anders, former apostate and current Warden-Healer. I'm honestly hurt, ser, you were there when I was recruited."

That jostled Alistair's memory, a dim idea of arriving at the Vigil just after Dirth had taken command. "Ah, yes. You're-" Dirth's apostate. Well, his other apostate.

"You're-" he repeated, trying to find a less imprudent way to refer to Anders.

"I'm the Warden-Commander's kept man, as opposed to Morrigan, yes," Anders drawled lazily, gesturing to the room around them. "Which explains my presence. I assume you were not looking for me, but for Dirth?"

Something in Alistair's chest (not his heart, no, it couldn't be his heart) snapped at the casually possessive tone in Anders' voice. He was too late.

"Yes. I have... important matters to discuss with him. Kingly business."

Anders grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "He's busy."

"Well, when will he be available?" Alistair demanded, feeling the childish urge to stomp his foot at the cheeky expression on the mage's face.

Anders shrugged, "He's with Morrigan and their- and our son," he corrected himself, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"And you were... waiting for him?"

"Mmm," Anders agreed. "A surprise. I should probably get dressed, if you have 'kingly business' to discuss. Maybe I'll go bother Nate instead."

He stood up, smirking as Alistair averted his eyes again, and threw on a set of rather revealing robes. It was almost worse than seeing the man naked, watching him fuss with the flimsy, sheer material, draping it artfully around his waist and hips.

Anders gestured to the now-vacated couch as he moved to the door. "Good luck with your business, King Alistair." he said with a wink as he left.

#dadwc #thiefbird writes #Anders x Dirthail #anders x mahariel #Alistair x Dirthail #Alistair x m!Mahariel #Anders x Warden Commander #Anders x hero of Ferelden #Alistair x Warden commander #Alistair x hero of Ferelden

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bookstantrash · 3 years

Text

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace” Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment — that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @lanyjoy-13 @firebirdofscythia @illyrianundercover

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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heartscfvalor · 3 years

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Introducing: Emrys Amell

Night will fall and drown the sun When a good man goes to war

Emrys Amell is a cousin to the Hawke family, proven to have magical abilities as early as four years old and thus taken to the Fereldan Circle of Magi in order to train himself into controlling his powers. Emrys took his studies very seriously, though as he grew older, the more he started to daydream about what life could be like outside of the Circle walls, to have a life of his own where he was at command of his destiny, rather than the Templars.

Just barely past his nineteenth birthday, Emrys was pulled out of bed by the Templars and taken to the top of the Tower, where his Harrowing was to begin. Stepping into the Fade, he set forth to face off against the demon of Pride, as well as a demon of Rage, and he finished in record timing. He was given his full robes as a mage within the Circle by First Enchanter Irving, as well as a staff of his very own.

However, the happy celebration was not to last very long. Emrys’ long time friend, Jowan, came to seek him out, and in a conversation huddled behind bookshelves in the temple, he introduced Emrys to the Chantry initiate, Lily, with whom he had been carrying on an affair with. They had dreams of running away from the Circle and Chantry together, due to Lily finding out that Jowan was slated for forceful Tranquility on suspicion of him being a blood mage, and they needed Emrys’ help with their escape, due to him finally being made a full mage. Horrified and concerned, Emrys of course agreed to help, and he was able to obtain a rod of fire before following the duo down to the basement where the phylacteries were being held. Jowan’s was destroyed easily enough, though Emrys, wishing he could follow, was unable to find his own; it had been sent ahead to Denerim and thus was out of his reach.

Unfortunately, it was all for naught. When the trio left the basement, it was to find Irving, and Greigor, and his Templars, waiting for them; Jowan revealed he was indeed a blood mage by using blood magic to fight back against the Templars, and Lily, terrified, rejected him, causing him to flee on his own. Emrys was unable to follow, feeling a strange sort of guilt over betraying Irving, but he was saved from death when the Grey Warden, Duncan, conscripted him into the Grey Wardens, citing that they needed all the help they could get.

After the Battle of Ostegar, Emrys becomes the new leader of the Fereldan branch of Grey Wardens, with Alistair as his right hand man. His magic is mostly dependent on nature, using fire and ice to his advantage, as well as various different mana types of magic for healing. His favored romance is Morrigan, with them ending up conceiving a son together on the eve of the final battle. Kieran has the soul of an old god.

#visage;; emrys #regarding;; emrys #musings;; emrys #introducing;; emrys

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scarletarosa · 4 years

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Morrígan

Celtic goddess of war, fate, the cycle of life and death, rebirth, sovereignty, wisdom, and prophecy

Morrígan (also called Morrigu) has her name translate from Irish as ‘Great Queen’. This name is a key to her nature, showing that sovereignty and queenship are core aspects of her identity and power. Though some scholars have given the name an alternate etymology, translating it as ‘Phantom Queen’. As one of the Celtic sovereignty Goddesses, Morrígan has an association with the land itself, and the rulership and protection of the land and its people.

A recent belief has risen from Wicca claiming that Morrígan is a triple goddess, but this is not so and is inaccurate to her myths. Morrígan has several goddesses who work alongside her, but none represent the stages of one’s life, and Morrigan only appears elderly when she is presenting herself as a death omen to warriors.

Morrígan is deeply associated in her source lore with incitement of heroes toward glory in battle, with the granting of victory, and with their deaths; in her own words, she says to the great hero Cú Chulainn, “I am guarding your death”. In battle, she takes part in the action primarily through the use of sorcery, Druidic magic, shapeshifting, terrorizing the enemy, and giving aid and strategic information to her people. She shapeshifts into many forms in her tales, including crows, ravens, cows, wolves, and eels. She also fulfills important roles with regard to poetry and prophecy, giving poetic incitements to the heroes of the Tuatha Dé Danann to rise to their hour of need, giving prophetic pronouncements of victory or of doom on the eve of decisive battles, and announcing the victories and the tales of great deeds afterward. She also holds some power over life and death, being able to revive fallen warriors in order to allow them to fight again.

Morrígan is part of a group of goddesses who share similar roles: Badb Catha- the Battle Crow of destruction, Némain- frenzy and terror, and Macha- the land, fertility, protection (it is theorized that Féa was included as well). These are all separate goddesses who worked in similar areas of expertise. It is said that Morrígan was so terrifying in battle, that her shrieking war-cries could frighten her enemies to death. Though despite her terror, Morrígan also strives to teach her followers courage, independence, insight, and discipline.

Appearance: a pale woman in her early forties with long black hair, grey eyes, and sharp cheekbones. Her face is very stern and cold, and she wears graphite-black robes, slightly adorned with some crow feathers.

Personality: Morrígan is very serious, withdrawn, mysterious, cold, and sarcastic. She expects her devotees to be disciplined and seek corrections of their weaknesses so they can become stronger, allowing them to prevail. She hardly shows much emotion, and her anger is like ice. Morrígan is also very warlike and values both attack and defense. She is also capable of calling to arms the spirits of the dead (wraiths) to fight for her cause. Morrígan is not afraid of bloodshed, but her focus in war is conquest rather than to revel in killing. This and prophecy are her primary roles, and she does little else since there is nothing she seeks to do out of fun.

Some of her epithets: The Great Queen, The Phantom Queen, The Washer at the Ford, Lady of the Waters, She Who Calls to Battle, Raven Queen, Far-Seeing Sorceress, Bringer of Courage, Protectress, She Who Makes Armies Tremble, and Foreteller of Doom

Offerings: red wine, whiskey, hops, mead, stout beer like Guinness, black tea, blackberries, miniature apples, dark chocolate, venison, roast hog, horse meat, crow/raven feathers or skulls, swords, daggers, blood, black candles, black scrying mirrors, silver jewelry, canine teeth, cow horns, vulture feathers/skulls, ashes, belladonna, dead flowers, animal bones, onyx, garnet, bloodstone, divination tools, strong perfume, black fabric, black pearls, devotional poetry, artwork, crow/raven imagery, and dragon’s blood incense

#the morrigan #morrigu #the phantom queen #celtic polytheism #deity work #offerings #goddess

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claroso · 3 years

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Like Real People Do

Zevran and Clara Amell have been dancing around the unnamed tension between them for months now. Finally out from underneath the thumbs of their respective jailers, they appreciate being able to take their time and enjoy the dance.

I’m referencing the Correspondence Interruptus quest in DA:O btw

Zevran lunged forwards, raking his daggers across the hurlock's side as he ducked under its swing. He felt leather armor and flesh give under his blades like butter. The monster screamed.

He danced back from the hurlock's next swipe, the rusty mace slamming into the ground. He hefted his dagger and threw it. The metal flashed as it spun through the air and lodged in its leg. Were it human, that would be a killing blow. But for a darkspawn? The thing simply growled, picked up its mace, and limped towards him.

The hair on his arms suddenly stood on end. That was the only warning he needed--he threw himself back a split second before a fireball crashed into his enemy. It screamed again, contorting in agony as it burned.

Then the carved end of a staff smashed into its head. The hurlock collapsed. Behind it, Clara Amell snarled and brought her staff down again. Its decaying skull split like a pumpkin, blood splattering across her pale face.

Zevran's heart skipped a beat.

The fire guttered out as the mage straightened, her eyes sweeping across the battlefield. A handful of steps away, Wynne and Sten stood at the ready, their weapons raised.

"We're clear!" Clara called after a moment.

They all relaxed.

Zevran grinned. Working with a mage was a rare treat with the Crows, but being able to work with a mage who could predict darkspawn attacks? Amazing. They didn't have to be on edge every second of the day. And travel went so much faster without checking for ambushes around every corner. He knew he was getting spoiled traveling with Wardens, but he was determined to enjoy it while he could.

Of course, it didn't help with bandits or anything of the non-tainted variety, but that became rarer and rarer as the stories of the last two Grey Wardens spread.

Clara barked out orders--to search the bodies, the cabin nearby--and they wordlessly complied. Hardly anything was left intact after a darkspawn attack, and this one was no exception. The house was barely standing and the animals had run off long before they arrived. And the remains of three farmers were strewn around the clearing.

Unfortunately familiar with the sight, he began searching the poor souls' home. Even with such carnage, he enjoyed working with the Wardens far more than the Crows. Clara at least listened to him. He didn't with her disagree often, but she didn't threaten bodily harm when he did.

Actually, now that he thought about it, threats of bodily harm were surprisingly rare with his new group. Except Morrigan, but the lovely witch usually kept it limited to Alistair.

And he kept a substantial cut of the loot, he thought as he rummaged through a chest at the back of the cabin. He slipped the few coins into his belt. The dirty leathers he tossed. That left a single leaf of parchment at the bottom of the chest. He broke the seal with his thumb and opened it, a smile spreading across his face.

"Zev!" Clara called. "We're leaving!"

He jumped up and rushed back to the group. Wynne dabbed at the bloodstains on her robe and Sten's face, as always, was stoically impatient. The Warden, wearing a mismatched set of armor over her Circle robes, sported her usual scowl. As he grabbed her hand and swept into an overdramatic bow, her expression shifted to confusion.

"My dear Warden." He purred, holding the letter up with a flourish. "I believe I've just won the bet."

She scoffed. "No chance in the Void. Let me see that."

"I apologize, but as I've said before," he dodged her outstretched hand and winked. "Poetry simply must be read aloud."

Sten grunted, somehow putting an entire lecture's worth of disgust into the sound, before turning on his heel and marching off.

"I rather agree with our taciturn friend. I'll see you back in town." Wynne said, starting down the trail back to Redcliffe.

"There's no way that's worse than the letter I found last week." Despite their companions' lack of enthusiasm, Clara had the slightest curve of a smile. Practically jumping up and down with excitement for her, really.

"Shall I?" Zevran said, raising an eyebrow.

She waved toward the path. "Walk while you talk, Brother Genitivi."

" 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He said in a deep Fereldan accent.

"That's awful."

"Hush now. The audience doesn't speak. 'My dearest Virginia Trueroyal,' " He scoffed. "That can not be a real name."

She chuckled. "Get on with it."

" 'Regarding: Bodice ripped.' Oh, how scandalous!" He spun around, walking backward ahead of the Warden so he could wiggle his eyebrows at her. " 'Enclosed are seven silver and my most heartfelt apologies for said bodice.' "

Clara suddenly grabbed the front of his armor and pulled him roughly to the side, narrowly missing a tree.

He didn't stop. " 'I would blame the cold ocean spray, the loss of my favorite shirt, the bucking of the stallion,' " He winked, and she rolled her eyes. " 'or perhaps the strain of maintaining all such elements while sitting for a portrait, but I was certainly not myself. I hope you will forgive me and not take it upon yourself to find your own determined way in this world.' "

" 'Yours, Ser Rival Grouseman' " He finished with a flourish.

"That was terrible." Clara frowned.

"Exactly!" He exclaimed, delighted. "I will accept payment in silver or fine leather goods, mi estrella!"

"No, that's actually, really terrible. It's not even dirty!"

Zevran gasped. "How can you say that? The 'bucking of this stallion', the 'cold ocean spray' ripped this poor woman's bodice open!"

"It's too subtle." She argued. "I don't want flowery details and sighs in the moonlight. If you're going to talk dirty, at least give it to me straight."

"Well, if you insist."

In a very appropriate display of maturity, she stuck her tongue out at him.

"No matter." He said as they stepped into Redcliffe village. "Leliana can break our tie."

A few minutes later, they stepped into the tavern. Wynne sat at a table in the corner with a tome and a mug of ale in front of her. Sten was nowhere to be seen.

After dealing with the blood mage and possession of Connor at Redcliffe Castle, Clara had refused to stay when Teagan offered. Instead, they had found rooms in the village. Since they'd cleared the dead from the town and broke the siege, they'd been welcomed back with open arms. Any unoccupied room was free for their use. Sten had taken up in a hut on the edge of town. The mages settled in an empty house so they could practice without disturbing anyone. The rest stayed in the rooms above the tavern.

They'd only been there a week, but it was a much-needed break from their constant travel. They still hunted down pockets of darkspawn and bandits to ensure the town was safe, but they also slept in real beds and ate at the tavern every night. Leliana even volunteered at the local Chantry, dividing resources and praying with the town.

Speaking of their lively bard, Zevran spotted her rushing towards them with Barkspawn at her heels.

"You're back!" She exclaimed. "How did it go?"

"I think all the bandits ran off." Clara pulled down her hood and ruffled her sweaty blonde hair. Half of it stuck straight up, making the fierce warrior look more like the head of a broom. "Didn't see anything human all day."

"And the darkspawn?"

"Not gone, but it is a blight." She shrugged. "I think we'll leave the day after next. The guard should be able to handle what's left."

"More importantly," Zevran said, "I found the winning letter!"

Leliana grinned. "I'll get the drinks!"

After drinks were delivered and they'd settled at a table, Barkspawn curled over Clara's feet, Zevran read the letter again, with plenty of flourishes and suggestive looks. The redhead giggled through the entire thing.

When he finished, Clara shook her head. "Not a chance, Zev. Mine's better."

"I don't know." Leliana said. "There is a certain poetry in it."

"What? Why are you on his side?"

She shrugged. "None of the letters I found can compare. I'm not wasting time betting on a horse that can't win."

"Fine." Clara huffed. "Then you're the deciding vote. Pick one."

Delicately tapping her chin, the bard paused, obviously deep in thought.

"You can't be serious, Leli." Clara demanded, leaning over the table. "Mine's better! Just pick mine!"

He chuckled, admiring her fierce frown. So competitive!

Leliana smiled sweetly. "It's only that poetry is best when read aloud. Zevran really made the words come alive, don't you think?"

She fluttered her eyelashes as the Warden's mouth dropped open. Clara had staunchly avoided reading aloud any of the letters they found.

"Yes," he purred, "won't you indulge us, Warden?"

"I--you can't--fine!" She snatched her bag from under the table and rooted through it, muttering under her breath.

She slapped the parchment to the tabletop. " 'Miss Ambrose'." She started, a determined set to her shoulders.

" 'A long, slow grind, the motion careful, aided by generous application of oils. Size is no concern with my equipment, and I am always mindful when stuffing, not risking a--risking--" Clara stuttered, her voice climbing higher with each word. "--a burst before every order is fulfilled.' "

Leliana giggled and he pressed a fist against his mouth.

" 'My meat--" She winced, her pale skin red as a tomato. "--goes hand in hand with satisfaction.' "

He laughed. She fought down a smile and took a deep breath.

" 'Your interest astounds, but I would not question a customer's choice in nighttime reading." She said quickly, her voice strangled. "Three pound sausage again next week? No cheek, of course.' "

She collapsed against the table, arms over her head, shoulders twitching, as Leliana and Zevran howled with laughter. Barkspawn joined in with an actual howl.

"Maker's breath," Leliana sighed. She wiped her eyes. "That was marvelous, my friend. You win."

Clara looked up, hiccupping with laughter, and tried her best to glare. "You're all terrible people."

"What a performance!" Zevran cheered and clapped. "More than worth the five silver."

She rolled her eyes, but accepted their coin without further grumbling.

"And with that, I must be off." Leliana said, standing up. "I promised I would be up early to repair a barn. Zev?"

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose. As long as you buy the drinks again tomorrow."

"Helping the locals now?" Clara asked, refilling her cup.

"I might as well." He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and waving off Leliana. "Idle hands and all that, you know."

She frowned. "Are you tired of patrolling already?"

"Oh, there is no need to pout, my Warden." He said with a wink. "You know I only have eyes for you."

She hid a smile behind her cup of wine. Zevran grinned back, putting his feet up in Leliana's empty chair. They settled into a comfortable silence, simply observing each other.

He and the Warden had been dancing around each other for the past month. They each knew what it was and where it was going--into bed, most likely, though he had no qualms about a tent or wall if that's where the moment led them. But this, the dance, was equally enjoyable. Flirting, teasing, finding out how to make her smile or blush down past the neckline of her robes.

And learning how she flirted back. That's how he knew that arguing and knocking her shoulder against his was practically a wink and a loosened bodice for Clara.

Suddenly, her mouth dropped into a true pout, eyes shifting behind him. He turned to see Alistair move quickly across the room and out the front door with his head down.

He frowned. Something had happened between their stalwart Grey Wardens. For the past week, Alistair and Clara had barely even acknowledged each other. The playful teasing was replaced by awkward silences and short, to-the-point conversations. And occasionally, he caught her staring at him like she did now. Hurt danced across her expression with abandon.

Then she scowled. In one smooth motion, she picked up her cup and drained it.

Zevran blinked. Slowly, he pushed his whiskey over to her.

She drank that just as quickly, though with a lot more coughing after. Barkspawn whined and pushed his head into her lap.

Well. This was worse than he thought.

"Mi estrella." He said, leaning forward with a smirk.

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "What?"

"You've drunk far more than your usual fare." He nodded to the empty cups. "Sleep here tonight, in one of the empty rooms upstairs."

"That's...probably a good idea." Clara stood with a groan and tucked her staff under her arm.

"I shall escort you."

"What possible ulterior motive could you have, I wonder?" She mused as they started up the steps.

"Believe me, I am not a subtle man." He said. "When I have a motive, you will know."

They ducked into the room at the top of the stairs. As she shucked off her armor and robes, he wandered the edges of the small room, faking interest in its small baubles and plain furniture.

"If I may pry, my Warden..."

She glanced at him, suddenly tired and thinner than she had any right to be, clad only in a thin sleeveless shirt and trousers.

"You're asking permission? That's new." She noted dryly.

"Hm. I noticed some tension between you and your fellow Grey Warden recently."

Her shoulders tensed. She winced at the movement, hand going to her right shoulder.

He padded over to the bed and sat, gesturing her towards the middle. "Here, sit."

She shifted onto the bed.

He began to knead her broad shoulders. She tensed at first, either at the new intimacy or his cold fingers. Only when she relaxed under his hands did he speak again.

"Did you disagree on how Connor was dealt with?" A feint.

"No."

"On our next journey?" Zevran found knot after knot in her muscles, like a string of pearls underneath her skin. He started to doubt this plan--having this conversation and taking care of her horribly abused muscles demanded his full attention and right now he wasn't sure which was more important.

"No," she sighed, "we both think Orzammar is the best move."

"Then he finally confessed his affections?"

Clara's head snapped around to meet his gaze.

He smiled slightly. Braska, he hadn't meant to say it quite like that. But she was a blunt woman, she might prefer a blunt approach.

"Maker," She twisted away from his hands, "I hoped it wouldn't be obvious."

"It's not your fault. Alistair is rather blatant about his feelings, though." He chuckled. That was a bit of a white lie. They were both obvious about their falling out, but a tiny fib never hurt anyone. "The poor boy has been mooning over you for a few months now."

"I must have done something to lead him on..." She said with a deep frown. "I'm a terrible friend."

He shrugged. "Well, I can't comment on that last bit, not having much experience in the area. Flirting, though, I am quite skilled in. And its all about intention."

When she didn't respond, he placed a hand on her arm, drawing her attention up to him.

"Clara, you can't lead someone on unless you mean to."

She smiled weakly.

"A massage, for example." He continued. "This could be just a friendly massage, but I hope you know enough of my intentions to tell otherwise."

She blushed, but reached up and squeezed the hand on her arm nonetheless. He pushed past the excitement buzzing in his chest. Despite knowing about their mutual interest, the acknowledgement of it thrilled him.

"Good. It's not your fault, or Alistair's, for that matter. It was just... a miscommunication."

"You make it sound so simple." Clara sighed.

"Only because it is." He said. "Give it some time and you'll both be able to look back at it with laughter."

She scrunched her nose. "Maker, you sound like an old man."

"A beauty such as yours, my lady, inspires the wisdom of ages."

She groaned and fell back against the bed dramatically. "Not more poetry!"

"Your storm-grey eyes cut my chest to ribbons," Zevran said, leaning on one hand to smile down at her. She rolled her eyes. "such do I ache for you."

"Your laugh soothes my pain and heals me." His fingers dug into her sides and she squealed as he tickled her.

Loud and unrestrained, the laughter transformed her. Her face, so often grim and lined with worry, turned bright and open. A smile split her face nearly in half.

Zevran admired the sight, his mission tonight accomplished, when she suddenly grabbed his wrists tightly. She shoved him, rolling them over and pinning his wrists above his head.

"Ha!" She crowed, victorious and beautiful, only inches above him. His heart stuttered. "That's--"

He leaned up, closing the space between them, to meet her lips. He felt, more than heard, her gasp. A breathless moment passed before she returned the kiss with a sigh.

She pressed down more firmly into him. Her hands released his and snaked down to cradle his face. Warmth trailed behind her touch, tracing patterns across his cheeks, down his neck.

He tilted his head, slanting his mouth open in invitation as he wrapped his arms around her. She ran her tongue teasingly against his bottom lip. Then, she bit down, slowly, deliberately.

He groaned as she pulled away, opening his eyes to see Clara, flushed and grinning down at him

"Your lips enthrall me." He murmured.

She chucked, brushing a kiss over the corner of his mouth. "You're absolutely terrible."

"I believe that speaks more to your taste in men than my taste in poetry, mi estrella."

"Are you ever going to tell me what that means?"

"I've no plan to."

Clara kissed him again. Her hands were buried in his hair now, grasping and pulling for new angles, as she hummed deep in her throat. And he let himself drown in her warmth, just for a while.

Sometime later, after her hand was underneath his shirt and his was gripping her thigh, Zevran pulled back.

He arched an eyebrow. "This was not the intention in my suggestion, Warden."

"So?" She grinned, her eyes dark and wild.

"So, you were close to collapse only five minutes ago." He brushed his fingers against her lips, following the curve of her smile. "And, if I have my way, this will be quite acrobatic. You'll want to be awake for it."

Truthfully, he was enjoying the chase far too much to jump into bed right now. He'd never had the luxury of time before--the lovers he had taken in the past were either jobs or other Crows. Both were always rushed, fumbling selfishly for whatever pleasure they could take before moving onto the next. This, her, would be the first entirely of his own choice, free from his masters. If he wanted to savor it, he damn well would.

Also, he made a point not to fall into bed with someone distracted by another man. Even if it wasn't 'like that'.

He'd had precious few friends in his life and never any friend as close as Clara and Alistair were. He wouldn't be responsible for the end of their friendship. After they mended their ways, then he could move forward.

Zevran shifted out from under her and brushed a kiss against her cheek. She fell back on the bed and yawned widely.

"Rather proving my point, Warden."

"Fine. It's your loss, really." Clara said, smiling as she closed her eyes and curled around a pillow. "I'm an animal in bed."

"I've no doubt." He muttered, hardly able to contain his own smile as he left.

#dao #da:o #dragon age #dragon age: origins #origins #ZevWarden #Zevran x Warden #Zevran x Amell]#zevran arainai #Zevran x female Amell #Zevran x female Warden #female amell #female warden #Clara Amell #ZevWarden fic #dragon age fanfic #fuck i already posted this under the wrong blog #whatever :(

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dragon-age-upheaval · 4 years

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The companions of the Origins game, I wanted to really work on making the designs unique even from the games. My idea was to come up with something similar to the DA2 companions. How they have a unique armor set each that change depending on the actions of the player. Alistair, I looked to give a unique warden armor with a golden insignia to show his royal heritage, it’s actually mainly the trailer warden armor.

Zevran is rather tiny as a massive inspiration to historical ninja, who, as spies and assassins, were actually rather small and light to allow themselves to move more nimbly. I took that to mind when drawing Zevran, that and color, real ninja, wore blue and grey and not the black you see in pop culture. This is because the night sky in that time was a dark blue that the color black stood out against, so I went with more natural tones that could more easily blend into an environment.

You can’t see it here, but I drew Oghren with a body softened by lack of action since we know through codex entries that Oghren was banned from wielding weapons when we meet him for attacking a noble when drunk.

I wanted a bit more qunari styled armor on Sten.

I took a lot of design cues from Leliana’s spymaster roughs. Wynne is just a slightly fancy mage robe, and Morrigan was heavily inspired by this mod.

Course I also have a secret character, reveal for later. I didn’t draw Shale cause I feel her design is unique enough.

#morrigan #dragon age #alistair theirin #sten #oghren #zevran arainai #wynne #leliana #dragon age origins #dragon age companions #witch of the wilds

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musicallibrarian93 · 3 years

Text

Summer Daisies (An Elain x Tarquin fanfic)

Chapter 1 | Word Count: 4301 | Rating: M

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978781/chapters/73803669

Elain revelled in the early morning sunlight. The light of day making its ascent as she sat on her balcony overlooking the lavish gardens of the River house. She had a book in hand and drank deeply from her tea. Summer solstice was one of her favourite days of the year. She looked back on the past 10 years and smiled at the memories of how her and her family had often celebrated on the longest day of the year.

This year Tarquin had invited them to Adriata to celebrate with them and Elain was beyond excited. She’d visited the Summer court only a few times, but it always fascinated her. The way the sea was so bright, and the salty air calmed her. She also wasn’t complaining about how beautiful Summer’s males were.

She’d decided to reject the bond between her and Lucien just over five years ago, and he’d taken it surprisingly well. Nothing had happened to cause the rift; After the war Elain had just wanted to be independent, to see what life she could make not tied to a male but the bond had still laid between them and it was easy enough to ignore it, especially as Lucien spent more time away, but that time spent where they had been mates but not mated was horrible because other males looked at her like she was taken, not that she’d set her sights on anyone in particular, but Elain didn’t like being seen as someone’s property. She was better than that. After rejecting the bond though, something still didn’t feel right, and Elain had needed more time to find her feet again.

However, something had shifted in the past few months. She was stronger and more confident than ever, joining the Valkyries for training and studying in the library when she wasn’t tending the gardens, but she looked at her sisters and her best friend Azriel who had people they were sharing their lives with, and Elain wasn’t ashamed to say she wanted to know what that was like too. Her sisters and Azriel had been fortunate to be mated to people who they loved with every ounce of their being. She knew that even without the mating bond they would have all chosen their mates. And that’s what Elain wanted, to choose. So, Elain rose from her chair, stepped into her bedroom and got ready to embrace all the world had to offer.

——

Nesta walked into Elain’s room as if she owned the place, with a multitude of dresses in hand. “I think I have a few really good choices here.” She said as a way of greeting,

“Let me see!” Elain squealed helping her carry the heavy fabrics. They were truly gorgeous. She could see Pastels and florals and lace; she did love this. Especially sharing it with her sister.

“Okay, so I have my eye on the Green one or the Royal blue one, but I don’t think you’ll mind if I claim either of those.”

“Certainly not,” Elain said as she stroked over a light pink gown that was now draped over her bed, “You’re right Nesta, these are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” She said back, “But I’d hurry up and lay claim to one before Feyre comes.”

Elain glanced at all the gowns on display. She knows she shouldn’t have left it till the last moment but that was all part of the excitement. Somewhere along the way it had become a tradition for the girls to get ready together for events and Elain was so thankful that they had grown close enough to do that. “I’m going to go with this one.” Elain said, choosing a gorgeous Silky pale teal dress that had white flowers embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. When she turned it around, she saw it appeared backless with those same white flowers attached to a mesh that’d make it look as if they were stuck to her skin. This was the dress. “Good Choice.” Nesta remarked.

“I hope you two haven’t taken the good ones,” Feyre said in greeting, “I finally got the Children dressed so now Rhys just has to make sure they don’t spill anything on themselves.”

“Is Lyla excited?” Elain asked smiling at the memory of her niece showing off the dress they had bought for the occasion,

“So excited. It’s her first proper ball.” Feyre said, “She kept asking if she was going to dance with a prince tonight.”

“Well, I don’t hold a chance of catching a male’s eye if Lyla is there.” Elain laughed,

“She’s Six.” Feyre said,

“And already planning on seducing Princes at a ball,” Elain smiled once more, “Maybe she’s more like her Auntie Nesta than we thought.” Nesta just smiled broadly at that, proud that little Lyla was a little ball of energy, insistent on wreaking havoc and having fun.

“Just wait till you have children, Nes.” Feyre said, “I’m desperate to see what kind of trouble a little Cassian could stir.”

“Perhaps it might not be too long- “

“Nesta are you Pregnant?!” Elain basically screamed,

“No, Gods, No,” She got out quickly, “But we’ve been talking about it, having children.”

“That’s wonderful.” Feyre said hugging her sister,

“Thank you. On our last trip oversees we realised how lovely it might be for a child to travel and grow up seeing the world.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Elain said cupping her cheeks, a tear threatening to spill,

“Don’t get too excited just yet, it might be another few decades before it happens.”

“Do you guys ever think about what it would be like if we were still human,” Elain said, “How it’d be utterly unrealistic to wait decades to have children.”

“I mean Rhys and I hardly waited, but I do think about it.”

“I would not have married someone nearly as handsome.” Nesta said,

“I’d have married a horrible man and become a trophy.” Elain gagged at that thought,

“I’d have probably died a Spinster.” Feyre said,

“Come on, you had men fawning over you.” Nesta said,

“I’d hardly call Isaac Hale a man.” Feyre said causing Elain to giggle,

“Regardless, I’m grateful for this life.” Elain said,

“Me too.” Nesta and Feyre said as one,

“Did I walk in on a mushy moment?” Gwyn asked peering round the door,

“Gwyn! Come in I have the perfect dress for you.” Nesta said,

“Good, I’ve been struggling to find something.”

“I’m positive this will have Az on his knees.” Nesta said with a grin. The rest of the girls laughed in response.

It was going to be a good day. Elain could feel it in her bones.

——

The first thing that caught Elain’s eye was the Chandelier. It sparkled beneath the sun that was filtering through a skylight. The entire ball room was stunning, dressed in beautiful yellows, whites and teal. She had chosen the perfect dress. She loved how daisy garlands were strung from the ceilings and how the ballroom had an entire side that opened onto the gardens beyond the palace.

The second thing that caught her eye was The High Lord of Summer, donned in white with Golden cuffs that matched the Gold that lined his eyes, strolling towards them. He was gorgeous.

Of course, she’d met him before. The last they had talked properly was at the sporting events that had occurred a few years ago. Every decade there were inter-court Sunball games. These hadn’t been held for the best part of a Century with Amarantha’s reign and then the war with Hybern and then everything that went down with the mortal queens, but they’d held the first one in the summer two years ago. Elain hadn’t known much about sports, she knew people would compete in the mortal realms in different events, but she’d never deigned to care, but when she’d heard a rather enthusiastic Tarquin cheering his team on in one of the early matches, Elain had asked him to explain the game to her. The games had become much more interesting after that and she’d find any excuse to be near him during matches, even when they played against the Night Court.

Nothing had come of it though, she hadn’t wanted anything to come from it at the time, but now seeing him, calm, ethereal and downright stunning. Elain was re-evaluating why she hadn’t seen him that way before.

“Welcome,” Tarquin said in that deep voice of his sending goosebumps up Elain’s arm. It was boiling hot here, she shouldn’t be shivering, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He said clasping Rhys forearm, then giving Feyre a big hug and finally bumping a fist with Nyx. They had become incredibly close; Mostly down to the fact that Nyx had summer court powers. It had always been a thought, one no doubt all the High Lord’s had pondered, what powers would Feyre’s children possess; If she had the power of Seven High Lords would that pass down to her children or would they all receive something different. Nyx was already showing signs of immense power, but Summer’s called to him the most. Tarquin had lovingly offered to train with him and give him a safe environment to explore and master that magic.

“Excuse me, are you a prince?” We all looked down to see Lyla tugging on the High Lords robes. Feyre quickly pulled her away,

“No sweetie, Tarquin is like Mummy and daddy.” Mor explained to her,

“You’re a High Lord?” She asked in that adorable voice,

“I am,” He answered crouching down, “I believe you are Lyla.”

“Daddy says I’m a princess.” She said with a proud smile,

“Well, I believe a princess should get to show off that pretty dress.” He stood and took the little girl’s hand and led them into the gardens where the festivities were in full bloom.

Elain was blushing now and did not hide it when Tarquin glanced back at her. He was so good with her niece and nephew she could’ve swooned right there but instead she moved to Morrigan who was holding her wife’s hand. She almost didn’t want interrupt Emerie and her but Mor had already caught that Elain wanted to ask something. “Tell me about Tarquin.” Elain said,

“He’s Kind, Gorgeous, great with Children, supports those born into low-ranking families. But I think you already know all of that.” Mor said with a wink,

“But he’s never been married, no mate?” Elain asked,

“There are rumours his mate rejected him while he was still young, but he’s never confirmed that. I imagine like most he’s had lovers but none serious enough for us outside the palace to know of. He is young, soon to be a century, but I imagine his life has been so chaotic he might not have thought of romance.”

“He was not expecting to be High Lord, was he?”

Mor’s voice dropped so a soft whisper, “No, his cousin was killed by Amarantha. He’d tried to escape Under the Mountain and was caught; Rhys lied about his accomplices in order to save Tarquin’s life who had also tried to get him out.”

“He’s doing a great job considering everything he’s been through.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Mor said with that smirk, Emerie nodding along

“I think Lyla has already claimed him.” The three laughed in tandem, looking at the little girl holding onto his hand.

“Maybe you could ask him to dance.” Mor said suggestively,

“Maybe I will.”

——

Elain felt like her feet might fall off. She’d been dancing for hours not just with her brother in-laws but with Azriel and her nephew too. It had been so wonderful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced this much and felt so free. She suspected the wine probably had something to do with her giddiness, Cresseida had told her it had been made by the very grapes that grew in the courtyard. Elain had tried many different wines while being Fae, but this was the most delicious.

She was just happy. She was living, truly living. The stolen glances towards the High Lord also made her feel more alive than ever before. He was wrapped in his Host duties but each look or smile he shot her way had her heart beating fast. It was a good job he’d invited them to stay for a few days or she might have been sad they had not gotten the chance to speak.

It was now early evening, and the sun was beginning to fade. The longest day of the year was coming to an end. She saw Feyre on the other side of the ball room and made her way towards her,

“Have you seen, Lyla?” Feyre asked, “She keeps running off, but we need to put her to bed.”

“I think she’s enjoyed it today.” Elain said, scanning the room and the gardens beyond,

“She basically ate the entire banquet table.” Feyre said with a laugh,

“Oh,” Elain said pointing outside, “I see her. She’s… with Tarquin.”

“Thank the mother,” Feyre said, letting out a sigh of relief, “I’ll get her.”

“No, let me.” Elain said,

She took a deep breath and walked towards the High Lord. It might have been the wine or the self-confidence she’d built over the past years, but she held her head high and didn’t shy away when he looked at her and smiled once more,

“Elain,” he said by greeting,

“Tarquin,” she smiled back, then turned to her niece, “Lyla, I believe your parents are looking for you.”

“They are, but I’m not tired yet, and I want to dance.” The little girl said, trying not to yawn,

“I know, Sweetie, but…” she couldn’t think of the right words to say as Tarquin had come to stand so close to her,

“But” he continued for her, “I promised your Auntie Elain a dance before the party was over.”

“Okay.” The girl said,

“You’re here for a few more days, I promise to take you around the City and to dance with you before you go home.” He said with such a loving smile, and then looked to Elain as if the offer applied to her too.

“Okay,” Lyla said again, “Goodnight Mr High Lord, Goodnight Auntie El.” Elain picked up the little girl and gave her a big kiss before sending her to where her mother stood waiting. Tarquin stood beside her and watched as Lyla left the ballroom.

“She loves you.” Elain just said to him,

“She’s a very sweet little girl and her brother too.” The pair looked over at Nyx who was standing with Cassian, looking like they were up to no good. Elain let out a small giggle. “Have you enjoyed the day?”

“I have. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Well, you certainly fit in.” Did he just call her beautiful? “So, May I have this dance?” She just glanced at him, and the beautiful blue of his eyes were as beautiful as the ocean beyond them. It was what made her say,

“Of course,” he took her hand, “I might only be able to stay standing for one more song though.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said leading her to the bustling dance floor, “You give me a dance and I’ll show you my favourite view in this palace.”

“Deal.” She said, damn those eyes that looked at her like she was the only one he could see.

When they joined the dance floor the music changed from the upbeat tune to a beautiful lilting melody. It wasn’t like other balls she had been to. There were not set dances one had to learn, everyone moved freely on the dance floor, with a partner or solo. She glanced around to see other couples holding onto each other swaying along with the music. Tarquin spun her so she faced him and bowed to her before taking her in his arms. She beamed at that bow, he’d done it purely out of politeness than what was expected, and she knew she had shocked him just as much when she slid her arms around his neck.

Her fingers were brushing against the hair at the back of his head, she marvelled at the beauty of his face. This close up she saw just how smooth his skin was, she wanted to run her fingers over his cheek, in his hair, maybe even further down that glorious set of abdominals that were proudly displayed. His skin had been lightly powdered with some kind of gold dust that had become alive under the light from the Chandelier. He was the most beautiful male she’d met. She already found herself dreading the dance coming to an end.

A small gasp escaped her lips as his broad hands found her waist. The thin Silk fabric she had donned was not thick enough to stop the heat of his hands seeping through. And for a while, the pair just swayed, not quite meeting the others eye. Elain couldn’t speak for the High Lord, but she feared that if she looked into those eyes much more, she wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to kiss him.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” Tarquin whispered into her ear,

“I’m thinking,” she started, “That this is one the most stunning parties I have been to. That daisies are my favourite flowers and I’ve never seen so many.”

“Why Daisies?”

“They grow anywhere and everywhere.” She answered, “When we were children, Nesta and I would sit in the garden and make daisy chains, or I would while she would read. I got told off by a nanny once for making one and placing it on Feyre’s baby head.” Tarquin chuckled in response.

“If that’s the most mischief you got up to as a child, I’m afraid you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Well what kind of mischief did young Tarquin get up to?” She asked, “Or have you always been calm and Kind?”

“I’m flattered you think that” he smiled. That gorgeous smile. “The Captain of the guard had a son my age and we’d get up to all kinds of mischief. My favourite one was when we created a slip and slide in the palace corridors.”

“That does sound mighty fun.” She laughed

“It was until we broke a few fish tanks and there were all manner of creatures sliding along the corridor with us.”

“Oh no!” Elain gasped,

“Yes, we were not easily forgiven for that particular stunt.”

“And now? Do you find you have much time to get up to these antics now you’re High Lord?” before he could answer the song came to a finish. Perhaps she’d overstepped, she had no right to ask of his personal life, but all her worries were stilled as he said,

“I believe I promised you the best view from the castle.” Elain only nodded and took the High Lord’s hand before Winnowing her away.

——

“Wow.” It was the only word she was capable of saying.

“I told you,” he said. It was stunning, the sun was setting, and they had the perfect view watching it make its descent. But not only that she could feel, in her bones, the vastness of that ocean that laid below them. She could see the city of Adriata where other solstice festivities were gathering. Looked out on the ocean to see a multitude of boats also celebrating. The curve of the small beach and the caves and cliffs that stood high above the waters made Elain realise how Feyre felt the urge to paint. To capture such a beautiful moment would have been impossible though.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there. Just that she thought she could breathe in that sea air forever. She’d barely realised they stood on a balcony that she had no doubt were attached to the High Lord’s personal chamber. She’d almost forgot who she stood with. She looked back at him who was just watching her with unwavering attention. “To answer your question,” he said stepping beside her to lean against the railing, “Being High Lord has kept me busy and I haven’t yet found that work, life balance that comes so naturally to the others.” He confessed,

“I think you’re doing a remarkable job.” She said glancing down at his people who were joyously celebrating,

“Thank you,” he said so sincerely she thought her heart might break, “I do wish I had the time to do what I liked.”

“What’s occupying so much of your time?” She asked,

“Already trying to get Court secrets from me?” he said with an eyebrow raised, she knew he was joking but still -

“Not secrets, per se. Just if you wanted to share the burden, even just by talking, I’d be more than happy to shoulder it.” She’d never meant anything more in her life. She wanted to be there for him, to care for him. Shit, she was in deep already.

Elain looked up at him through those long lashes and he turned to her. She tried to figure out what lay in his eyes, if it was sadness or gratitude. The next thing she knew she was reaching up to his cheek, finally feeling that smoothness beneath her fingertips and brushing away a tear that had fallen from his eye. “My apologies,” he said with a small cough, “I wanted to show you this place because it’s special to me but here I am blubbering away.”

“Never apologise for that, Tarquin. You deserve the happiness of the world. It’s okay to dream.”

“And what do you dream of?”

“For a long time, I thought happiness could only lay in what I could do for others. I believe it will always be my calling to serve and help but I didn’t know who I was. So now I dream that I will never lose sense who I am, and that I’ll be able to help others on their journeys. I know it isn’t much.” She said,

“Elain, I wish I had your sense. It takes a lot to admit you need to find yourself and to do the things you love.”

“And what is it that you love?”

“I love being High Lord, truthfully. I dream of making big changes in my lifetime. I just sometimes wish it didn’t feel so lonely.” He looked into her eyes with that piercing gaze and Elain’s knees could have buckled, but she held strong. Her hands found their way to his face one more, and she didn’t know what had possessed her as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Everything had gone so quiet; she swore she could hear the stars twinkling.

She pulled back slightly, the weight of what she had just done not quite crashing into her. She was about the open her mouth the apologise but she couldn’t as Tarquin took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply and Soundly.

She tried to track his movements. She felt his hands around her waist like how they’d been when they’d danced. But they were trailing over her back now, over the embroidered flowers that were trailing along the back of her dress. She’d never been kissed like this before. Like they’d just wanted to devour her, and she did not mind it one bit.

Tarquin let out a small moan into her mouth when Elain had begun threading her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. She wanted that sound again, wanted to elicit every possible noise he could make. So, she did not complain as he’d walked her to the wall and pressed her against it. They were still outside, the sea air still making everything that much more intoxicating. All thoughts left her as he slid his thigh between her legs. She’d been with a Fae male once and it was good but this, this was something else. Another small moan escaped his throat when Elain began to rub that bundle of nerves along his thigh.

It was too much, but she needed more. She broke the kiss and looked at him, his breathing utterly ragged as he looked upon her face. They did not part, she thought that they might not be able to not with so much between them now. “Elain,” he said his voice a little more than a rasp, “I do not know what the future holds but I know you’re the most beautiful female I’ve laid my eyes on. And if I have misread anything please stop me before I completley ruin this.”

“Shh,” Elain said, before holding his face in her hands again and kissed him again. Not as intensely this time but it still felt otherworldly, “I think,” she said onto his lips, “That you are the most gorgeous male I’ve ever met.”

At that he picked her up and carried her through the balcony doors to the adjoining suite. She was right. His personal chambers. “Is this okay?” he asked as he walked towards his bed. It had been okay for a very long time. He could have taken her on that balcony for the entire city to see. To hear. She nodded and said, “Won’t you miss the ball?”

“I have everything I want right here.” He said before dipping his head to kiss her once more. He lowered her to the bed, and she found herself surrounded by gorgeously plush cushions and then the very welcome weight of Tarquin above her. “Tell me to stop.” He said gently,

“Please don’t stop.” she smiled with equal gentleness. And nothing. Nothing in the world could have prepared Elain, as the High Lord of the Summer Court began to make love to her.

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typicalmidnightsoul · 4 years

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𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖊 -Chapter 1

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭

Hogwarts AU After Feyre and Elain spot Nesta go into Borgin and Burkes with her friends they get concerned and as time goes on the inner circle realize that Nesta Archeron is indeed hiding something that may be life threatening, which is why she will not open up to anyone, and would rather face this alone. The inner circle and a very determind Cassian is not, however minding their business which puts everyone in knee deep shit.

Exquisite. She was exquisite, standing there in her robes. Well, on Nesta Archeron school uniform didn’t really look like uniform. Her skirt was more high-waisted, her jumper tucked in with no crinkles and since she hated knee high socks she work sleek black tights with black heels. As she fixed her blue tie Cassian took his eyes off her and sat down.

Feyre came in a few minutes later and glared at the sight he was staring at down the train passage way. They were only waiting on Mor and Amren.

“Did something happen?” Azriel inquired.

Elain and Feyre exchanged a look.

“Well…something did happen with Nesta,” Feyre began. Rhys sat up next to Cassian, Azriel lifted a brow.

“What something?” Cassian asked.

“Something a bit disturbing.”

“Care to elaborate?” Amren came in with Mor shutting the door behind them. Feyre glanced at the door.

“Elain and I planned to meet up with Nesta at the leaky cauldron at 1 but since Elain wanted to find a gift for one of her friends younger sister’s and as we were coming out of Eeylops Owl Emporium we saw Nesta 1 hour early with Cresseida Maree and Eris Vanserra…”

Elain picked up the story, “She looked so weird, and they all did wearing all black. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that they went into Borgin and Burkes.”

“What?!” Amren hissed.

“Why would Nesta Archeron need to go there?!” Cassian demanded.

“When she came out we asked her and she said Eris had business there so they tagged along.”

Cassian relaxed, “Eris Vanserra is in Slytherin and as much as I don’t like their friendship it makes sense for them to tag along.”

Feyre looked at him, her eyes hard “We would’ve believed that but the second Nesta saw us she handed a bag over to Cresseida and they both left. Leaving Nesta with us, without as much as a glance.”

They all went silent until Elain said, “It’s her life so I don’t-”

The compartment door slid open, “Elain it seems that I mistakenly put my spare Ravenclaw tie in your satchel, may I look?” Elain got out her satchel and handed it to her.

“Sure, who’s it for?”

“Cressida, she left hers at Tarquin’s.”

The atmosphere went awkward.

“Skirt got an inch shorter this year?” Cassian chuckled.

“Maybe it’s just your perverted view” she didn’t even look up.

“Or maybe you’re just an attention seeker,” Mor retorted.

“Morrigan take a long look in the mirror because according to history there aren’t any lengths you wouldn’t go to hide that pretty little secret of yours.” Mor paled at the drawling voice leaning on the doorway.

Nesta groaned, “Cat meet dog.”

“Are you Nesta’s dog then Eris?” Feyre asked, sneering.

“Well, if being Nesta’s dog means she gives me 10 times more affection than she gives you then I’ll gladly comply.”

Nesta looked up at him from her rigorous search. “Aw, thanks.”

She got the tie and ruffled Elain’s hair as she was going out only to be stopped by a tornado which pushed Nesta back into the sliver of space next to Elain.

“What the fuck is Helion doing in our compartment?” Vassa hissed.

Nesta looked utterly shocked, “I called him, why what’s wrong?”

“He has been flirting with everyone, Cresseida, Clare now he is on Thesan, Nesta kick. Him. Out.”

Eris pulled her back, allowing Nesta to get up.

“He knows, Vass. We need the information.” Vassa straightened at that only to almost topple at the jolt of the train that made Nesta fall straight into Cassian’s arms. Her honey blonde hair fell like a curtain around them. Sliver eyes met gold ones. His smirk faded.

Eris cleared his throat. Nesta jumped off him. As they went out Vassa nudged Nesta and gave her a smirk which Nesta dutifully ignored.

In Borgin and Burkes

“Ms Archeron, what a pleasure your aunt told me you’d be dropping by.”

Her voice was like a knife cutting through silk, “Hello Mr Borgin, I hope my aunt told you why.”

“No. she didn’t risk it, she feared that someone might be listening.”

“No issues,” she opened a black duffel bag and took out a black box to show a hollow flower crystal rhinestone choker. Mr Borgin chuckled.

“Ever so sorry, Ms Archeron but I don’t buy pretty jewellery.”

Cresseida sniggered.

Nesta gave a saccharine smile to Mr Borgin.

She leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t touch her; she might put a curse on you.”

That made him stumble back. The trio snickered.

He gave her an inquiring look.

“It’s a blood-Bourne curse, and as you know it resurfaces after many generations to affect the descendants of the one originally cursed. I want you to find out who was the person originally cursed and who their descendants are.”

He nodded but asked, “Do you know what the curse is?”

She nodded, “But unfortunately I cannot tell you, nonna’s orders.”

“Ah, yes that reminds me, your grandmother has told me to give this to you.” He gave her a box. She opened it. Eris came up behind her and gave a smile that promised death.

The box had a rifle, a sniper and a machete and a note inside read,

Make sure these reach to Ms Laurent,

She will know where to plant them

You will be notified of their whereabouts the morning after you

You give them to her. Stay safe, keep your

Sisters safe.

Love Nonna.

They quickly worked, unloading the weapons and into the Burberry duffel bag. As they were leaving Cresseida got a text.

“Nesta your sisters have been following us.”

“Too late,” Eris replied as they caught sight of them at the end of the alley. Nesta handed the bag over to Cresseida.

“Put the bag in your trunk. Give it to me on the train.”

They both nodded and left without turning back

@skychild29

#nesta #cassian #eris #acotar #nessian fanfic #feyre #thean #cresseida #clare #vassa #lucien #jurian #helion #prythian #sjmaas #acomaf #acowar #au #harry potter #hogwarts

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tabikato · 4 years

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If you had asked Hue what his thoughts were on Lothering he would give the response that it was very...brown. The further they moved towards the village, the more open the fields were but what surprised him more was that there was a serious lack of green. Sure there was the occasional bushes and some grass, maybe a tree or two, but everything was so...open. Open and not much excitement save for the occasional darkspawn to kill and raider to chase off. Speaking of which...

“I do not see why you did not just do away with them”, Morrigan frowns, crossing her arms as Hue descended the stairs, the raiders from early chased off easily enough. Though it was rather amusing to see a bunch of grown men run in fear from an elf of such short stature, there was no way Hue could know they wouldn’t come back with reinforcements. Especially with the peculiar information the raiders spouted out, something about these two killing the King. As if Alistair had any sense to accomplish that kind of feat, Hue on the other hand, probably not either but he was much more unpredictable to say the least.

“You suppose I should have killed them?”,he questioned, crinkling his nose at the thought, “Driving them off solved the same problem, what’s the point of killing just because you can?” Well, point taken, though she didn’t have to agree with it. Better to be cautious than to be merciful but then again, she wasn’t one of the mighty Gray Wardens here. Speaking of useless Gray Wardens…

“Well, there it is. Lothering. Pretty as a painting.” Alistair extended his arms out, presenting the hodge-podge village with more flair than needed. Hue leaned on the stone banister, looking over the village in a mixture of awe and disappointment. After Ostagar, the village seems a little lackluster in comparison. Houses made of wood and thatching, patchwork fixes to keep the weather at bay. Dirt roads flattened by the consistent to and fro of workers to their daily tasks. The large stone structure was pretty interesting, so large you could fit a few families in it with a high wall and open arch. So many sounds and smells wafted with the breeze, all so unfamiliar that he fought the urge to jump down and begin exploring. And the people, he’d never seen so many gathered about in different clothes and conversations other than Ostagar! Clothes in various shades of brown, gray, and white greeted his eyes from a distance. It wasn’t “pretty” in his mind but it definitely was fascinating.

“Ah. So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?” Oh no. He had forgotten for a moment that these two, for whatever reason, really, really did not get along. Maybe Alistair would ignore her, act the bigger man and they could continue to the tavern...

“Is my being upset so hard to understand?!”, Or fight back, “Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?!”

“Before or after I stopped laughing?”

“Right. Creepy. Forget I asked.” Ruffles whined and he pet the Mabari behind the ears before turning his attention to the two squabbling hens.

“Are you sure you two aren’t related?” They both gagged, turning away from each other to yell at Hue but he had other plans, “What did you want to talk about, Alistair?”

“His navel, I suspect. He certainly has been contemplating it for long enough.”

“It is a nice navel.”

“Are you honest--what?”, anger rose and fell within seconds, scowling eyes turned from Morrigan to narrow ones at Hue, “No. No, nevermind, I don’t even want to know where that trail of thought is going.” Hue just shrugged, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Down to your navel it seems.” Okay, Alistair decided to ignore wherever that was going.

“So, I get it. This is the part where we’re shocked to discover how you’ve never had a friend your entire life”, his mocking tone earned a scoff from Morrigan, gaining some satisfaction out of her offended look.

“I can be friendly when I desire to! Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

“Wait...you think friends make you stupid?” Morrigan blinked at the chuckling elf, eyes narrowing.

“I’m beginning to suspect, yes.”

“Anyway...I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first.” Alistair interrupted, saving them all from yet another looping conversation they were prone to have. The only saving grace of those was that it made the trip seem shorter.

“Got any ideas?”

“This should be good” Ignoring Morrigan’s sneer, Alistair turned to his fellow Gray Warden.

“I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea. These treaties...have you looked at them?” Hue’s large blinking eyes told him all he needed to know and he sighed, knowing the question about to spill forth, “The treaties, Hue, the ones we got from Flemeth. With these we will be able to ask for assistance, maybe even raise an army.”

“Oh! Those things!”

“There are three main groups we have treaties for: the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi. I also think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first.”

“My clan’s already moved north…”, Hue cocked his head, eyes turned to the sky, “but there’s another that’s usually in Brecilian forest. Wait...why are you leaving this up to me?” With a furrow brow, he turned his gaze back to the human. Shouldn’t he be the one making the decisions here?

“Well, I don’t know where we should go! I’ll do whatever you decide!” Alistair’s voice cracked a bit, shoulders tight as he deflected back onto the other. “Arl Eamon is a good man, but I don’t know for sure he’s where we should go. I’m not going to fight about it!” That was...weird. Aside from the moping, which would be normal for such heavy losses, Alistair had been more on edge. He'd assumed the added tension and constant bickering with Morrigan was it but now he had his doubts. Was Alistair...lost?

“O...kay. Well, I am a hunter so...I guess that’s fine?” What more could he say? Aside from some hunts, Hue’s never led anything his whole life and now Alistair was just expecting him to do just that. “Still, I’d like to know what you guys think too. The group should be in agreement. What about you Morrigan?”

“Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, Loghain, and kill him. The rest of this business with the treaties can then be done in safety.” Okay, she has a point, it’s a great point but also just a very bad idea in general. One, they have no idea where Loghain was, second…

“Yeees, he certainly wouldn’t see that coming! And it’s not like he has the advantage of an army and experience and-”

“I was asked for my opinion and gave it! If your wish is to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we will stand here until the darkspawn are upon us!”

“Guys!” His voice cut through, stopping them both, “Morrigan’s right, we can’t fight about this.”

“But we-”

“And you’re right too, going after Loghain now is too risky. There’s no way he hasn’t buried himself in his den, we’d walk right into a trap. For now, let’s get some food and figure things out as we look around.” A heavy sigh left his lips, both humans looked at least a bit guilty. They were all tired and probably just hungry, some food and rest would clear their heads and then they could make all those important decisions.

“There is a tavern not far from the entrance, come.”

All he had wanted was some damn food, maybe a drink, and be off his feet for a moment. Just to relax next to a fire and pretend for just one moment the world wasn't ending. What he hadn’t wanted was to be pulled into a fight right as they walked in the door. The tavern had been full of patrons, chattering and gossiping in a way that filled the whole room with noise. On the upper part he could hear a lute being strummed to some unfamiliar tune. And the smells! He had been eager to try food cooked in a tavern, it always made him curious when the other elves told him about it after their ventures into the villages. His eyes on the prize he hadn't expected to be stopped by some guards, guards that definitely looked like they wanted trouble.

“By order of Loghain, we are to kill the traitorous Gray Wardens.” Again? So this was Loghain’s doing, huh? Not enough to be a coward and let people die in Ostagar but now he was trying to hunt them down? To do what, eradicate the Gray Wardens? Did he hate them that much? A woman with red hair and a soft voice interrupted, dressed in a robe that he had seen people around the Chantry nearby wear. A “sister” Alistair had called them. Sister to whom he had no idea.

“Please, there is no need for violence here.” Had to give her credit, it was worth a shot but the guards were having none of it. Then they drew their weapons and it was chaos. Drawing his bow, he had to be much more precise in such an enclosed space. One miss and he might hit an innocent, the idea that these so-called “guards” didn’t even care about the people screaming in fear around them just made him angrier. Between the five of them, sister included, they had managed to take care of this mess...non-fatally of course. Wow, he’s on a roll today.

“Tell Loghain we know what he did and we’re coming for him” Teeth bared, his red eyes lit up from the fireplace glow, feral as one of the beasts he hunted. With a tight nod they scrambled, pride turned to fear, tripping over themselves right out the tavern. Well, that takes care of that.

“I apologise for interfering, but I couldn’t just sit by and not help.” Anger melted from his face as he turned to the woman...sister. She was pretty and her hair gave off a warm glow in the firelight, as if the flames themselves coloured the strands. The style cupped her face, a braid on the side, with a few strands falling gently on a pale face. Her eyes, blue and clear, were steadfast, holding his gaze before he realised he had yet answered her.

“I appreciate that.” The accent was different though, was she not from Ferelden? It didn’t sound like Marcher.

“I am glad you found it in your heart to offer those men mercy.” A tilt of her head, smile tight, “Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”

“I”m Hue.”

“They said you were a Gray Warden. I’m surprised you’re an elf, but elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no?” Her voice held genuine such curiosity, he didn’t have the heart to interrupt her, “I know after what happened, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along.” He blinked. Once, twice, letting the words sink in and when they finally hit him, he let out a confused sound.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“The Maker told me to.” Again...what? The Maker told her to follow him? His confusion must have been plain on his face because her confidence suddenly deteriorated, “I-I know that sounds...absolutely insane. But it’s true! I had a dream, a vision!”

“More crazy? I thought we were full up” Alistair whispered, scoffing at the idea. Considering he was the more religious of the three of them, if even he didn’t believe her…

“Look at the people here. They are lost in despair, and this darkness, this chaos will spread! The Maker doesn’t want this.”, her voice shook, so desperate in her plea that he actually started to feel for her, “What you do...what you are meant to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!” Aside from the fact that he was very much not Andrastian, he found he couldn't argue with her. She so passionately wanted to help, to stop this Blight and save people and whether it was the will of the Creators or Maker or what have you, he wasn’t going to turn that away.

“Well then, welcome to the party Leliana!” Arms spread wide, he welcomed her with a smile, warm gesture causing a smile on her face. The other two humans seemed to look a bit incredulous that they suddenly had a new...traveling partner.

“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought.” All that followed Morrigan's statement was more laughter as Hue walked over to order food. Finally!

After the meal he set about exploring Lothering, drawing exasperation from Morrigan and curiosity from Leliana when he flitted about like a hummingbird. Both women were assured that yes, this is normal, he does it all the time, please don't question it from a defeated Alistair. There was so much to see, so many sounds and smells and people to talk to. What he hadn’t expected was how many people needed help and despite Morrigan’s complaining he solved a few problems around the village, earning thanks and even some rewards. It was nice to be able to do things and it not turn into a giant mess for once.

Giving the elder some of the extra potions he had stored away, he caught a glint of metal. Curiosity moved his body faster than anyone could utter a word, forced to follow after the elf as he made his way to a large cage just outside the village arch. He heard before he saw; a deep voice reciting something in an unfamiliar language. Inside was a man, a giant of a man! Grayish skin stretched over large muscles and tight features, a strong jaw, sharp brow, and large nose made up his face. Large white braids were fastened tight to his skull, drawing to the back. One of this man's arms was at least equal to both the elf's legs! Red eyes widened in pure awe as Hue took in the giant who stood so still, he almost seemed like a statue. That is until eyes opened up and stared him down.

“You aren’t one of my captors.” Short, deep, to the point. Hue wasn’t sure why but that voice had him standing up straighter. “I have nothing to say that would amuse you, elf. Leave me in peace.”

“What are you?” Words, innocent as they were, left his mouth without filter.

“I am Qunari, is that not obvious?” Head shook no but it was only answered with a deep sigh.

“You’re a prisoner? Who put you in there?”

“I’m in a cage, am I not? I’ve been placed here by the Chantry.”

“The revered mother said he slaughtered an entire family...even the children”, Leliana’s voice reminded him that his friends had followed him, all standing behind the elf. Wide eyes froze, turning back to the strange man with that new knowledge.

“It is as she says.” Admittance; plain and simple. Something about that seemed...off to Hue though, what kind of murderer just admits their guilt and with such a tone? “I am Sten of the Beresaad--the vanguard--of the qunari peoples.”

“Ah, I’m Hue. Gray Warden. Nice to meet you.”

“You mock me.”, eyes narrowed but then replaced with confusion, “Or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands.”

“Well, I mean...you introduced yourself so politely…”, finger scratched his cheek, was he not supposed to do that? The way this Qunari?...was staring at him was a little nerve-wracking, it was like the taller man was reading him like a book.

“It matters little, I will die soon enough.” Suddenly it dawned on him that Sten was actually locked in that cage, probably meant to starve to death or worse.

“This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone.”

“Mercy?”, Alistair snorted in surprise, “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage.”

“Yes, that’s what I would have expected.” Morrigan’s words made Hue pause, ignoring their bantering as brow creased in thought. A use for him? It seemed leaving anyone to the fate of darkspawn was much too cruel, that he knew. If Sten had done what he said then yes, he did indeed deserve punishment but Hue just couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to this. It felt...odd and whenever he felt something was odd, he knew it wasn’t what it actually was. Was it?

“Are you guilty?” Sten was silent for a moment, furrowed brow regarding the elf.

“Are you asking if I feel guilt, or if I am responsible for the deed?” A pause and then his expression was stone once more, “However I feel, whatever I’ve done, my life is forfeit now. My regret will not bring back the dead.” And there it was, his decision made, he was going to get Sten to join them and that was that.

As much as he wanted to run and explore the Chantry and all it's nooks and crannies he was on a mission. Soldiers were standing around in various spots, Templars, as Alistair pointed out to him,. So that symbol was did mark them as Templars, that information would be useful for later. Who knows who might become their enemy and if the shem want to run around with large symbols emblazoned on their shields and armor to alert everyone who they were well...that seemed a them problem. Before any of that he marched his group right into the study in the back, determination set on his face.

Despite knowing the crime Leliana had actually helped him convince the Revered Mother to let them release Sten, as long as it was in Hue’s custody. She had caught on to his plan pretty quickly, offering assurances where he could not. Impressed, he smiled at her as they headed back into the main part of the Chantry.

“You’re really smart Leliana!”

“Oh? Thank you...I’m not sure what I did though.”

“You helped me get Sten out”, his smile was bright, genuine and she couldn’t help her own growing, “like redemption right? If he did do it, then stopping a Blight is better than him rotting away right?” Yes, she had guessed that was what he was thinking but it felt good hearing the words spill from his mouth. The Maker had truly chosen a merciful one. She watched as Hue approached the head templar, hands moving in animated fashion to his speech and the templar nodded. Seems he was quite pleased to hear that Hue had taken care of some bandits outside of the village. Her eyes followed the rest of her new companions; Alistair was busy talking to a knight nearby and Morrigan was near the door, eyeing every templar as if they’d attack on spot.

“Let’s go get Sten!” Hue’s cheerful voice popped up, his business done as he looked towards his friend, “Hey Alistair, let’s go!”

“Go ahead, I’ll join you.” With a nod, Hue walked right out the chantry with the two women, heading back to the cage.

“You wish something more of me?”

“Yea, I’m getting you out.” Sten’s eyes widened as the small elf started to unlock the cage, key in hand.

“I confess, I did not think the priestess would part with it.”

“She only agreed as long as you came with me.” The door swung open, Hue looked him right in the eye and Sten could only meet them in kind.

“Fine then, I will follow you against the Blight. In doing so I shall find my atonement.” Stepping out, he stretched out the limbs that had been cramped in that damn cage for too long. A warm smile greeted him, almost child-like in its happiness.

“Thanks Sten! Glad to have you with us!” These thanks and platitudes were undeserving to him, even if he was fighting a Blight he was still doing it for selfish reasons.

“May we proceed? I am eager to be elsewhere.” With a laugh, Hue led his new friends back to go pick up Alistair as well as some equipment for Sten and be on their way. To where? Creators knew but with two new friends, he felt like it was going to be interesting. They decided to take the back way from Lothering, marching up the stairs when they heard a commotion. On the bridge were two dwarven merchants, cart trashed and boxes strewn about, screaming at their attackers. Only the attackers weren't raiders, the unholy growl of darkspawn was turned upon them as soon as they came into view. Foul creatures wasted no time at all running at them, swords meeting swords as they engaged. Luckily with Leliana and Sten now in their ranks it took no time at all for these damnable things to be slain, pulling an arrow embedded into one's chest. Maybe they could do this after all...

"Mighty timely arrival there, my friend. I'm much obliged." The thankful voice had him turn, looking upon the dwarves who no seemed afraid. He smiled back at the one with the beard, nodding his head.

"You're welcome, uh..."

"The name's Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur", that last word seemed important but Bodahn continued on, patting the other dwarf on the shoulder, "This here is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy."

"Hello."

"Road's been mighty dangerous these days. Mind if I ask what brings you out here? Perhaps we're going the same way." Hue shrugged a shoulder.

"You can but I don't know if you want to travel with Gray Wardens."

"Gray Wardens, hm? My, that does rather explain a lot", Bodhan stroked his beard, not even thinking on the prospect, "No offense, but I suspect there's more excitement on your path than my boy and I can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune, though."

"Goodbye."

"Same to you." With that, Hue waved at them before joining up with his friends. Those two seem nice enough, hopefully they don't find anymore trouble. He could hear Bodhan's voice distantly as their feet carried them further on.

"Now, then. Let's get this mess cleaned up, shall we?"

#dragon age origins #dragon age #zevran x mahariel #zevran x m!warden #dragon age fanfic #Hue #Tabi writings #Alistair Theirin #morrigan

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