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jewish-gay-elves · 3 years

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Oh, Calamity

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling.

A soulmate/reincarnation au fic where I play around with the idea of soulmates without identifying marks or timers that have to find each other every lifetime!

Words: 4803, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of the Stephan Cousland: There's Never Much of a Choice for You

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Male Cousland, Goldanna, Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir Relationships: Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Cousland, Alistair/Male Cousland Additional Tags: ok just wanted to cover all my bases on the ship tags lol, also goldanna/cailan/anora's presences in the fic are v limited, like a sentence each p much, Songfic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation, please let me know if there should be more tags!, also please ask if you have questions!

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling. You lift your head and rest your chin on his chest, mulling over his words. Morrigan is always scolding you for saying the first thing to come to mind, and this feels like it requires a more thoughtful approach.

“Okay,” you say, and it is. Truly, it is okay. His belief or lack thereof in the Maker has no impact on how much you both care about each other. Your own faith in in the Maker hasn’t been the most unshakeable, who are you to decide whether or not he’s wrong? You can feel the tension in the arm he has around your waist lessen until his grip is as gentle as it was before. He was never really one to go in the Chantry and it makes sense to you now why not. You thought he just wasn’t really one for all the anti-magic shtick that they preach.

“One of my tutors, he came from Rivain,” he begins, offering an explanation. “While we still had Aldous, my parents wanted Fergus and me to have a more rounded education. He kept his lessons mostly academic, but I enjoyed his company so much I often stayed after and he told me of Rivain and their beliefs,”

You rest your cheek against his chest again, still listening but curling closer to him. He waited a minute, just listening to you breathe before continuing.

“He said that everything in Thedas and beyond were made of energy. Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari, and all the other beings. That energy exists in a cycle. Once the energy in a being has been exhausted in say, an old man, it would go then to a newborn. This continues the cycle, with the same energy and souls from before, just reborn. He said the stress of childbirth erased the memories from the past life, making it harder to remember things from before,” he explained.

“Have you ever remembered anything from one of your past lives?” you asked, wondering if stray dreams may have influenced his belief in the Rivaini.

“No, and I doubt I will remember anything from before. This is a fairly new line of thinking in Ferelden and if it’s true I doubt that any of my past lives believed in it. I think that increases the chance of never remembering those lives, just thinking that nothing came before solidifies the experiences in this time. As sad as it sounds I’m not even sure I’d like to remember those lives,” he said, puzzling you.

“Well, why not?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him again.

“I can’t know if those lives were as lucky as this one to have been able to find you,” he says, lifting a hand to your cheek as you two look at each other. You both lean in for a kiss and you think to yourself that it’s hard to imagine never meeting him in any kind of life.

When I was younger I was certain I’d be fine without a Queen Just a king inside his castle, with an ocean in between Now all I do is sit and count the miles from you to me Oh, Calamity!

You sit on your throne, looking out at the crowd gathered in light of festivities. Teagan stands by your side, Maker bless him. Eamon and young Connor are back in Redcliffe, Isolde caught fever and Connor insisted Eamon stay with them until she recovered. The other nobles are all drinking heavily, well into their cups and you are painfully aware of the missing Arl of Amaranthine. You know he passed on the title back to the Howes and Nathaniel years ago before he even began his search for a cure but, he should be here.

You can see Fergus from your throne speaking to the nobles around him, some minor lordlings from South Reach looks like. They must be discussing politics for you can see Fergus’ top lip twitching. His brother had the same twitch that tells when either of them are about to seal a good deal. Probably speaking of possible marriage arrangements for Fergus’ boy.

You wonder if he thinks about his first son often but as the lordlings turn to retrieve more drinks you see a wave of grief pass over his face before the mask is back in place. You were able to return Highever to the Couslands but in the years since you’ve wondered if they even wanted it back. Nothing either of them said to you indicated otherwise but whenever you visit and they are both there they get certain looks on their faces. As if they were forced to eat Orleisian cheeses.

He must have noticed your eyes on him because Fergus turns to look up to where you sit. The grief is still in his eyes as he gives you a nod before returning to the festivities. You always wondered if he blamed you for having to remarry and raise heirs, knowing that his brother was otherwise occupied as Warden Commander and would never have given Highever heirs of his own willingly.

Seeing as you won’t be making heirs either and that the throne was mostly going to one of his sons you doubted that he could hate you forever. You make a mental note to later write to Fergus about the idea. Provided that you spoke to your fellow Warden about it as well. As soon as he returned of course. Because he would return, he’s the Hero of Fereldan for Maker’s sake, and also because you have had a cold spot in your bed for far too long. Teagan leans over and makes to whisper in your ear.

“Stop thinking about the Prince-Consort, you have the most unwelcoming look on your face,” he says before leaning back. You shoot him a grin upon seeing his sly smile.

“I’m that transparent am I?” you ask rhetorically, straightening your back with only two or three pops compared to the normal five or six. The chair (Eamon says you must refer to it as the throne but in all honesty, it’s just a chair) is far too uncomfortable and you wish said Prince-Consort was here to complain to but that will have to wait for another day.

We get older by the hour, watch the changes from afar. Keep forgetting to remember, where we’ve been is who we are. Now all I do is wonder why we ever set the scene Oh, Calamity

You lean against your shovel, looking up at the sky. Your eye is drawn to where they say the Breach once tore the heavens asunder. You think back to the stories the older servants tell of being children while the world was thrown into chaos by the Archdemon.

They say that among the rubble of the Temple of Sacred Ashes the Inquisitor arose as the Herald of Andraste with a hand sparkling green with ancient Elvhen magics. That they had been touched by Fen’Harel himself. Your knowledge of the Elvhen Parthenon is limited, but the savior of Thedas being touched by the Dread Wolf seemed a bit ironic to you.

It had been almost a century since the sky was closed by the might of the Inquisition and while it still had power, Ferelden no longer felt torn. Struggling to choose between the Inquisition and the throne. While the Inquisition started in Ferelden it had no power over country affairs. King Alistair and his Prince-Consort, may they rest at the Maker’s side, supported the Inquisition in that it would close the Breach was sure to remind them that true power in Ferelden laid with the crown.

To be honest you preferred the late monarchs of Ferelden, may they rest at the Maker’s side, to the Inquisition. The two surviving Grey Wardens of the Battle at Ostagar, saved by a Witch of the Wilds to unite Ferelden and prevent civil war in order to fight the darkspawn.

No one quite knows when or how the two Wardens got involved after ending the Fifth Blight, or whether or not they weren’t together before slaying the Archdemon. But they stood together against the nobles at the Landsmeet, declaring King Alistair the rightful heir and their engagement to each other. You always thought it was very romantic, the last two Grey Wardens standing together against nobles and darkspawn alike.

“What a lazy arse you are Marc!” a voice you recognize as Quint’s called from behind you. You turned to see him walking down the hill towards you, his hands dirty from where he was likely gardening in front of the main house all day, an equally dirty spade tucked between his belt and trousers. You gave him a smile as he approached, knowing that the work day was likely over and he was coming to collect you for dinner.

“I happen to know that you like my arse, whether it’s lazy or not,” you said back to him. Your mind’s eye flickered as he smirked at you, a delicate golden circlet with lavish jewels appearing on his head, the spade at his side now a decorated sword. You frowned, shaking your head to clear the vision. As he reached you he slid his arms around your waist.

“You alright, love?” he asked cautiously. You smiled for him, returning the gesture and wrapping your arms around him as well. You wondered if Quint had ever had a moment like that. As if a memory placed itself over the current view you had. Doubtful, Quint was likely more focused on his next meal.

“Fine, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” you said blinking the strange vision out of your eyes. “Let’s go see what Cookie’s whipped up for tonight shall we?”

“Hey I heard that the Lord has a visitor from Rivain staying for a while,” He starts telling you earnestly, already coming up with all sorts of wild tales.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had one of these visions Neil! There has to be some meaning behind them I just can’t figure out what!” you exclaim, curling your hands into fists against your temples. Neil sits on the cot a foot or so away from where you are curled in on yourself.

“Okay, okay, Wil I believe you,” he says extending his hands out in a placating manner. You peer at him, lifting your head from where you pushed it against your knees. He’s looking at you earnestly with his wide honest eyes and you find your initial fear of him ridiculing you disappearing.

“Just start from the beginning, when did they begin?” He asks you patiently. You take a deep breath and lower your arms to wrap around your calves. You collect your thoughts and decide to be honest.

“I think I’ve always had them, but I could never remember them until after I met you,” you start out. “It’s like I’m living another person’s life, but it just overlaps my own. I’ll see my papa start walking towards me but then his face isn’t his but instead its some Rivaini dressed in the Grey Warden uniform from before the Fifth Blight. My mother gets replaced by someone in servants clothing patting my cheek. And you, you have five different faces. All of them look like they lived centuries ago. There is maybe a century between each of them, with the oldest one from before the Breach.”

“Lived before the Breach? Wil that was back in what, 9:34 Dragon?” Neil says concern clear on his face.

“The Breach opened in 9:41 Dragon,” you correct him.

You’re scared to tell him that he doesn’t take on the face of just anyone from before the Fifth Blight but the face of the Warden who defeated that Blight. You’re scared to tell him that sometimes you look in the mirror and it’s not your face that greets you. That you have five different faces as well. And the oldest face that you see is one drawn in countless history books from the royal portrait archives to your classroom textbook. King Alistair, the last of the Theirins to sit on the throne before he gave it to his Prince-Consort’s nephews, he looks at you in the mirror. He’s always much younger than in the portraits but you know it’s him.

You’re scared that if you tell Neil he will remember the history lessons that covered King Alistair and his Grey Warden Prince-Consort. That they would only be known as the first two men to rule Ferelden as a couple together if they hadn’t also defeated a Blight. You’re scared because this is too new with Neil, you aren’t even sure if you like like him that way and what if he doesn’t like like you like that either? He’s been your only friend since you moved to Lothering a year ago. You refuse to lose a friend like him for something- something like this!

Neil is just as quiet as you, now that you’ve finished your tale. A moment passes before he scoots nearer to you on the bed and slings an arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him.

“We’re going to figure this out, ok Wil? I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but we'll figure it out,” he says and it disturbingly sounds like a promise falling from his lips and you look at him in surprise. He has a soft smile on your face, and a little twitch in his upper lip and you’re almost overcome with another déjà vu vision but you tamper it down and stay in this moment where there is just you and Neil.

You find yourself nodding with a grin spreading across your face. His good mood and attitude becoming infectious as you sit on the little cot.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I remember Ma said there was a visitor from Rivain who checked in yesterday,” Neil invited you, standing up and offering you a hand up. You gladly take it and you both head downstairs together.

I’ll remember nights alone, waking up to dial tone Always found my greatest moments in the sound of your hello. Now I struggle to recall the reasons you would come to leave. Oh, Calamity

You didn’t want to call Elijah, you didn’t want to call Elijah, but you wanted to call Elijah. Damn it, you thought to yourself, picking up your telephone. You impatiently pushed the rotary around waiting until it finally put you through. Thankfully, it wasn’t either of Elijah’s, frankly lovely if not a tad overbearing, parents who answered the phone.

“Hello, this is the Philips?” he said, sounding a bit confused by the late call.

“Elijah, it’s me. Benjamin,” you replied. This was a bad idea, you can already tell. You both don’t really know each other how can you be sure it’s him? Your parents always said it took a little while to know if someone was your soulmate. They told you it took time before you could be sure that the overlapping faces were truly the person you were meant to be with. That sometimes, if you rushed it, it wouldn’t be right. But you’re scared, scared it’ll never be right and if you never say anything you’ll never know what you missed.

“Oh hey, Ben. What’s up? Did you forget something at my house?” He asks, not picking up on your nerves at all. You can’t tell if he’s just dense or extremely considerate. Either option is endearing to you and makes the lump in your throat that much harder to speak around. Should you even tell him?

“Uhh no, no I’ve got everything, I just, wanted to call?” it comes out as a question and you want to hang up and then beat yourself over the head with the receiver. You can hear him pause and huff out a laugh of sorts. You want to smile because you’ve seen that laugh in person and can imagine him doing it in your head but it was at your expense and you are so nervous.

“Well, so you’ve called me. Are you feeling okay Ben?” he asks and you almost panic because he can tell, he can tell can’t he, that you don’t know why you called and you want it to be more than what it probably is but you are propelled by fear and nerves and find yourself confessing.

“Eli have you ever met someone and felt like you know them? Like you meet them and something clicks and it feels like you’ve known them all along?” you ask nervously, your voice cracks in the middle but you power through because you are not going to let your sixteen year old voicebox ruin this for you. You listen to Eli suck in a breath of surprise and pause before cautiously picking out his words.

“Ben, I uh. I have felt that way about someone before,” he says to you and you can feel your heart slowly crawl its way out of your stomach and into your throat. You want to ask who, and whether or not it is you. Whether or not he knows what you’ve been going through. However it seems as though you let your indecision carry on too long because Eli is speaking again.

“I’ve felt that way about you Ben, and I don’t know if you ever would feel that way around me but, the dreams stopped after I met you Ben. I don’t see my soulmate in the Fade anymore and I’m scared about what that means but I think I caught a flash of him on your face the other night when you smiled at me and I. I don’t know what this means but I, I would very much like to find out.” he rambles, his voice barely louder than a whisper, almost too quiet for you to hear over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Elijah, oh Elijah, I want to find out too. I want to find out so very badly,” you say twisting the cord between your fingers, nervous about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you maybe, want to go to the fair with me tomorrow then? And come over afterward?” you have the cord wrapped so tightly around your finger that you think it’s starting to cut off circulation but you’re too busy waiting for a response to answer.

“Yes,” he breathes out, like it was the only way to respond “Yes, I’d love to go to the fair with you Ben,”

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me. Oh, Calamity

You always dreamed of a man when you were younger. A man who was as gentle as the breeze and as strong as the oaks in your backyard and he was the right kind of funny. A man who was sharper than knives and had a tongue to match his quick wit. He didn’t always look the same, his hair would change color and length, he’d get short and then tall and then short again. His eyes however, no matter what color they were, always looked at you with the gentlest expression.

You’re five years old and you only see him when you sleep, wrapped in the Fade together. You both play tag chasing each other round floating bookcases and sheer cliffs.

In time you realized that this was what your parents called “nature’s way of showing you your other half”. There were more technical terms for it now but you weren’t really interested in that. You were excited about this other half business. As a child you wondered if he liked playing with toy cars too, or if he was one of those boys who’d rather build towns only to wreck later, pretending to be great archdemons from old.

You’re twelve years old and your mother finally sits down and talks to you about how sometimes it doesn’t happen. That you aren’t always guaranteed a happy ending due to location and distance.

Your teachers explained that as you grew older, your soul began to recognize that it was missing something. Missing your soulmate, to try and amend this, your body produced dreams and visions of previous lives and people who your soul had found time and time again. Your body doesn’t know what your soulmate looks like this cycle so you can’t see who it is now, but you can dream, and remember. That’s why you see the boy in your dreams.

You’re nineteen years old and lonely and tired of searching and tired of disappointment. Despite this, no matter who or when someone offers a night to alleviate the pain a bit, you decline and dream of your boy who smiles at you with the same sad look in his eyes that you’ve started carrying in your own.

You wake up the morning before your birthday alone in your apartment when your brother calls to tell you that he’s found his soulmate. He invites you to dinner to meet the girl and you accept it, happy to share this moment with your brother. You get there and are reminded that in this lifetime happiness is for the man once called Cailan who died before he even knew he had a brother. Happiness is for the woman once called Anora who watched her father get executed in front of her. Happiness is not for you.

You’re fifty-four years old and playing with your nephews despite your angry knees and their arthritis. Your only niece sits with her mother because the mud just wasn’t her cup of tea and you can hear the perceptive little ten year old ask “Momma, why isn’t Uncle married like you and Daddy?”

When the alzheimer’s starts to take you, it gets hard to remember your niece’s name even though she was always your secret favorite. She still visits you but it’s hard on her and you can tell. She reminds you that she’s in college for her Master’s degree but you still don’t know what the degree is. You are forgetting a lot of things these days, but when you close your eyes the same familiar face greets you every time and you feel young again.

You’re eighty-seven years old and that is the best description of you. Old.

If I catch you on the corner will you even know it’s me? Will I look familiar to you? Do you offer me a seat? Can we find a new beginning? Do you turn the other cheek? Oh, Calamity!

Job hunting sucked. End of story, no other options, game over, it sucked and that was it. Thankfully Gwen (you wonder if she remembers yelling at you in that dingy house back in Denerim) said that you only had to do it for a few hours and three hours seemed long enough to you at least. You walked to the closest café, pulling the messenger bag higher on your shoulder as you turned the corner. The day was nice enough; maybe you could stop and sit down at one of the outside tables.

After ordering (a tea of some sort and a cheesy croissant) you went back outside looking for a table. Sadly other patrons must have had the same idea that you did and most of the tables were already full. A particularly rowdy group of teens had already occupied one corner of the outside arrangements and you’d like to sit as far away from them as possible. You walk over to see if perhaps there are more tables around the side of the building, you’re out of luck but no one’s sitting in such a dense group as at the other tables.

You gaze around and finally you see someone sitting with a laptop and a few papers. You aren’t sure how friendly they are but they seem a better choice than the dodgy old man who glares at anyone who comes near. You walk up to the table with the man and his laptop, not the old guy, and hesitantly get the attention of the man sitting there.

“Oh uh hello, uhm may I sit here? This café is strangely busy and I’d rather not sit by all those teenagers. Not that I have a problem with teenagers but it’s a tad distracting when they scream random memes. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling, I can find another table somewhere else,” the words fall out of your mouth in a somewhat coherent pattern and you hope he understands what you said.

“No, no you’re alright. Please, sit,” he says with a gentle smile, he even shuffles his papers closer to himself so you can set down your cup. You sling your bag over the back of the chair and sit down across from him. After sitting you smack yourself in the forehead before speaking again.

“Where are my manners today I’m sorry, my name is Van, pleased to meet you,” you say, extending your hand across the table to shake his. He has a strong grip and you’re glad you can return it in kind.

“The pleasure is mine, you can call me Ryan,” he says to you. After a moment, he watches you as you meticulously take apart your cheesy croissant. You flush under his gaze in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just a little curious as to what you’re doing?” he asks looking over your mangled food.

“Oh! Well, you see, they hide the good bits under all this bread in some attempt to even out the flavor. However the truly tasty part is the lovely cheese blend they make here and I think they should just sell that on it’s own but the dear owner disagrees with me. Quite strongly in fact,” you explain to him. He chuckles at your explanation and then adds his own input.

“You know, the last time I met someone so in tune to the finer aspects of good cheese, he was a very strange man who spent time remembering his former life in a monastery where the boys had some fascination with lamp posts,” he says, and your eyes snap open to take in his features anew, yes there’s the twitch of the upper lip. You smirk back at him and take a second to remember a highlight in your relationship.

“Well, have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?” you drawl out hoping that your voice in this lifetime sounds similar to when you first said it back in the ninth age. He full out grins back and stands up to lean over the table and grab your shirt tugging you in.

“Congratulations on coming back to me again, my King,” he retorts, ignoring your question.

“I think you’re the one I should be saying that too Mr. Grey Warden who simply had to push me out of the way so that he could deal the last blow to the archdemon,” you snark back at him, remembering that fateful night. He just rolls his eyes at you and closes the distance, leaving the past memories in favor of making new ones.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity

“Almost makes you wish we could just fight another Blight and be done with it?”

“I’d take a Blight over a hundred awkward first dates, maybe not actually. There are too many darkspawn during those. And with our first dates I’m more likely to get laid now,”

“The one thing the movies never have, a shambling horde of shrieks and genlock to ruin our day,”

“The movies do end up with me back at your place more times than not surprisingly, seeing as you were the last one to lick a lamp post in winter between the two of us,”

“Oh we’ll see who’s licking the lamp post this time around Warden,”

“You know I’m not one of those anymore, especially since it’s been what, five centuries since the order died out?”

“Yes but this is probably our twentieth first meeting and it gets confusing if I try to remember all of the names you’ve had,”

“True enough, you royal bastard,”

Oh, Calamity, come back to me.

#alistair theirin #writing #stephan #stephan cousland #m!cousland #dragon age #dragon age origins #goldanna #cailan theirin #anora mac tir #songfic

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khintress · 6 years

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LEMME SEE THAT BIG ASS POST. I WANNA HEAR BOUT UR WARDENS AS INKYS

Ok sooo...listen. This really got away from me. Like...really far away from me. So here’s the short version, because the long version might be evolving into more of a fic than an answer??? And I didn’t want to leave you guys hanging. I just...have no control, you know, so...yeah. Short version. Long version is...coming. Likely to AO3. Because I have exactly zero chill. It’s 3,000 words and they aren’t even in Skyhold yet. I hate myself.

LENORA:

Believes they’re the Herald of Andraste: no, nope, no - she knows what bad luck looks like and this is it - why does this keep happening to her??

Mages or Templars: allies with the templars - they wouldn’t just abandon the chantry, she knows something is wrong - and oh, look, it’s a demon, big fucking surprise, who would have guessed, oh wait - her

Leads the Inquisition: for what’s right - because she knows how to work a crowd, and she damn well plans on going home when this is all through

Wardens are: allies - she technically still is one, after all - you can’t trick her into exiling herself, no matter how hilarious it would be

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: blackmail is easy when you have a friend who can pick locks - everybody’s friends and she’s going to pretend she doesn’t sense the impenetrable tension threatening to choke everyone as she makes them play nice

Accepts Abela’s alliance: yes, she has no desire to fight a small army of ancient elves on top of Corypheus’ forces

Drinks from the well: not a mage, so mmmmm no thank you - Morrigan is welcome to it - she trusts her

LI Involvement: Alistair has his own work to do. He’s a very busy man who wishes his wife would stop blowing herself up. He doesn’t have time to pack everything up and move to Skyhold. He does it anyway, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it. He worries, he wants to be out in the field - he doesn’t care if it isn’t ‘appropriate’ - that’s his wife and he goes where she goes, thank you very much.

ARIAH:

Believes they’re the Herald of Andraste: look her in the eyes and ask her again if she thinks the human prophet saved her elven ass from the fade

Mages or Templars: conscripts the mages - she doesn’t like it, but after the whole ordeal with Alexius and the Venatori, she isn’t taking any chances

Leads the Inquisition: to stop Corypheus, the ugly darkspawn asshole is gonna learn what happens to people who fuck with her

Wardens are: allies, but only because she knows they’ll need them when the next Blight starts

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: she really couldn’t care less about politics, but Gaspard wants to invade her country and Briala rubs her the wrong way, so Celene can keep her throne as long as she keeps her pasty Orlesian ass in Orlais

Accepts Abela’s alliance: yes, and she’s never felt the desire to absolutely harass someone with questions until now - she feels like Arryn

Drinks from the well: absolutely fucking NOT thanks anyway - does she look like a sucker to you??

LI Involvement: Leliana can’t say she’s pleased about the circumstances - especially regarding the mark - but she’s happy to have Ariah close by. They’ve been separated for too long, and even when Ariah is out in the field, she’s never out of reach. Never out of contact. She knows Ariah is coming back, coming home, to her, and for now, that is enough. It doesn’t hurt that they manage to carve out some time, just for the two of them.

DARIAN:

Believes they’re the Herald of Andraste: no. maybe? probably not. wait --- no, okay, Ariah says no

Mages or Templars: allies with the mages, because they need to get out of Redcliffe, and he needs to know what exactly the Venatori are

Leads the Inquisition: for order, because this is way too much and he was really enjoying just living in the world, instead of saving it

Wardens are: allies, he knows they weren’t all complicit, and he knows how it feels to be hunted

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: Celene and Gaspard are working together but he doesn’t know how he did it and no, he could not do it again if you asked

Accepts Abela’s alliance: does he look dumb? don’t answer that. he doesn’t want to fight anyone he doesn’t have to - and he doesn’t particularly fancy being murdered by Ariah either

Drinks from the well: no, and he doesn’t want Morrigan to, either, but she insists, and he trusts her

LI Involvement: Morrigan knows what’s happened, knows he’s coming to the Winter Palace with the Inquisition, but that doesn’t really prepare her to see him again. She’s missed him - gods, she’s missed him. She can’t stay here, not after this. She’ll bend Celene’s ear, make her think it’s her idea - but she’s taking their son, and she’s going to Skyhold.

ARRYN:

Believes they’re the Herald of Andraste: she really, truly, honestly has no idea - she’s seen the woman’s ashes, she believes She existed, but did She choose Arryn? she just doesn’t know

Mages or Templars: allies with the templars - she hates this war, isn’t fond of either side, but when the mages enlist with maleficar? she - she thinks of Jowan, and she just can’t

Leads the Inquisition: for what’s right, because what else can she do? she isn’t interested in vengeance or power, she just wants peace

Wardens are: allies, because even if she isn’t a warden herself, Darian is - Ariah and Lenora and Alistair are - she knows it isn’t black and white, and she remembers the Blight - she knows what wardens can do, and she won’t rob the south of that

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts: she doesn’t like any of them - they’re all shifty, sneaky, lying liars - but there was a naked man tied to a bed and a servant was almost murdered and a mouthy Ferelden mercenary showed up out of nowhere and she somehow, miraculously, brought all of this up without crying, and now everyone is pretending to like each other, so that’s a problem for someone else now

Accepts Abela’s alliance: yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, please tell her everything that ever happened in the history of forever she’s begging you

Drinks from the well: thinks about it, considers it, but she can hear Lenora’s voice telling her to stop consuming suspicious substances, so she lets Morrigan have it

LI Involvement: Zevran is a free man. He doesn’t owe anyone anything, so if he wants to pack up and move into the mountains, no one can stop him. Arryn shouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place, but she is, so he’s going to do everything in his power to make sure she sees the end of it. They survived the Blight, they survived the ten years after. He’s good at surviving. They’re good. He won’t lose her to this awful world, no matter how many times it tries to take her from him.

#answers

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ahrorha · 6 years

Text

Delayed Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas @destinyapostasy .

You were my Secret Dragon Age Santa. I am so sorry I couldn’t post my present sooner but my computer decided to break down.

I hope you had an awesome Christmas and I wish you all the best for 2018.

Your background story for your Inquisitor Ashanna Lavellan was very interesting. She is very human (and that is just a wrong word to use). I think everyone would cope with suddenly be declared Inquisitor differently and I like your take on it. I have read several of your stories to get a feel for her character and her relationship with Solas. I decided to write a short story in her early days within the Inquisition.

Enjoy your (not Christmas anymore) New Year's present.

A day in Haven

aka why did I wake up

Ashanna groaned as the first rays of sunshine shone through the open windows of her assigned cottage. How the shemlen could sleep in such a confined space, she would never understand. Halfway through the night, she had seriously considered to just 'accidentally' burning it down. The only thing that had stopped her was that she didn't want to hear another lecture of Josephine about how she should behave as the Herald.

“We must consider what image we want to portray as the Inquisition. Your status as the Herald is of utmost importance. If we want to convince the world that you, an elf, are Andraste's Chosen, you have to be treated and behave accordantly. We can't have you run around not properly equipped and housed. Be mindful that your behaviour...”

It went on and on. At the end, Ashanna had given in and accepted her new home, including the bed that stood unused in the corner. If it had been up to her, she had thrown it out long ago.

Not wanting to face another day in Haven, she turned around in her makeshift bed of several furs. The fire had died down during the night, and it was freezing in the cottage. As always she had let the windows open, to not feel completely trapped. Shivering slightly she buried herself deeper in the furs. She clearly needed more of them to keep warm in these frigid mountains. Not that she minded the cold in the beginning, but after living and returning here after every mission, she discovered she wasn't cut out for this climate. It made her long for the warm summers and milder winters of the Free Marches.

The people of Haven were beginning their day, and their noises drifted through her open windows. Ashanna let out another groan, she didn't want the day to start. Reluctantly she opened her eyes, and saw her old blanket, with the embroidered halla. Carefully folded it lied next to her, and was the only thing she had left from her past life. A wave of sadness washed over her as she thought back how she had found it. She swallowed and put her arm over her eyes when she remembered her halla. Dead and frozen solid, killed by the shockwave from the explosion. Her campsite destroyed and torn apart. The blanket lay buried in the snow and was her last taste of home.

She stretched her hand out and stared at the magical mark trapped within. Why was it that she had survived? And why couldn't she remember what had happened? She hissed when the mark flared up, stinging her already sore hand. Ignoring it, she freed herself from the furs. She had to get up before someone would kick in her door. Raking her hands through her hair, she untangled her black curls. Her fingers traced her shaven sides that were growing out. She was still debating if she should just leave it that way because having it was a lot warmer.

“Maybe I should ask Solas if he has any tips.” she snickered out loudly while braiding a part of her hair. If anyone should be an expert in bald versus coldness it had to be him. She slipped into her clothes and reached out for her pipe and elfroot satchel when there was a knock at the door. It was a sound she began to dread.

“This is going to be one of those days.” she mumbled while opening the door.

“Good morning Herald.” a messenger greeted her.

Ashanna gritted her teeth, she hated that title.

“Your presence is required at the war table.”

She sighed. What a great start of her morning. The messenger kept waiting, and she stared at him wondering if he needed something else. She could see that he was getting fidgety, nervously he coughed. Oh shit, he waited for her to reply.

“Ah yes.” she said hastily. “Thank you. Please tell them I will be there shortly.”

“Of course Herald, immediately.” he ran off towards the chantry.

Great another one I have made uncomfortable she groaned and went inside to get her gloves and coat.

“Herald?”

Blankly she stared at her advisors. Damn, she had missed a question. Trying to guess what they had talked about her stare only intensified. Why couldn't these people decide anything for themselves?

“Herald. What is your opinion how we should handle the situation at the University of Orlais?” Josephine clarified.

Leave it! Let it solve itself! Ashanna wanted to yell. She rolled her shoulders and took a long breath. How long had they been at it already? It felt like an eternity. Her muscles were stiff from standing still, and her mind felt hazy. She wanted to finish this quickly and get out of here.

“Josephine sent someone to take care of the squabbling children. Cullen sent some troops with them, so they know we mean business.” Like always she went with what her instincts told her. With so many enemies already they didn't need more of them.

“It shall be done.” and another note was written to be sent out by raven.

“Is there anything else?” Ashanna asked, feeling tired and having a pressing need for some space and fresh air. Her stomach agreed and growled loudly.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I think this is all for now.”

“Apologies.” Josephine said, diplomatic as ever. “We have taken enough of your time. There are no further pressing concerns at the moment.”

The day has just started. I am sure you lot will come up with something, Ashanna thought. With a small nod, she turned around to leave, glad to be free at last.

“Herald?”

She halted. These people really were testing her patience.

“If you have some time, would you come and see me? After you have eaten of course.” Josephine asked her while writing on her clipboard.

“Of course.” she sighed.

Before they could change their mind, Ashanna walked out of the chantry at a fast pace. The sun was already high in the sky. No wonder she was hungry. Several people were greeting her, with smiles and bows as she walked towards the small inn in the village. It didn't matter how many weeks already had past, she still felt like an outsider here. A stranger among strangers. Their interactions were sometimes difficult to understand. Their bond was different from the close-knit community of her clan she was familiar with. Not that living in a clan didn't have its own problems, but there she knew most of the people since birth. Thinking of the people she left behind another wave of sadness spread through her.

Yes, this was going to be one of those days.

Gritting her teeth, she did her best to sort of smile back at the people. After the subtle and not so subtle remarks, she had gotten from her advisors and companions, she was trying to be more 'friendly'. Whatever that meant. It was hard to get used to this role, being their Herald, their hero. It didn't help of course that her sensitive ears picked up the whispers and murmurs behind her back. She knew she could come off as cold and not caring, but she really had no idea how to socialise with these people. This whole situation was as strange and scary to her as to them, if not more. They didn't have some foreign magic pulsing in their body, not that they cared about that. To them, she had to be this saviour, with all the goodness and courage they had dumped on Andraste's lap. Not for the first time she wondered where this would end.

Without really paying attention she managed to get some food and sat down. Poking at her porridge, she was mulling further. What more would they ask of her? How far would this ridiculous worship go? She was dreading the day they would expect her to bless babies or heal the crippled. She noticed some people were glancing in her direction. Yes, come and join the sightseeing tour of our freakish saviour, come and see the Herald of Andraste taking a shit.

With a heavy heart, she started to eat. Wishing this day would be over soon.

Ashanna had just finished when the inn was filling up for the midday break. Already feeling watched her anxiety was getting worse. She needed to get out of here. Heading for the exit, she ran into Varric.

“Hey there Ashes. We have missed you this morning. Come let's snatch a table before this place is full.”

“Hey. Sorry, I just finished.” she tried to walk past him.

“Already?” he raised an eyebrow and looked concerned at her. “Are you all right? You look tired.”

“I had a busy morning.” she fidgeted. She really wanted to leave.

“Okay. You take care of yourself. Can't fight these rifts without you.” He patted her on her arm.

With a stiff smile, she stepped outside. The mark was crackling slightly again. It stung like she was being bitten by hundreds of ants. She flexed her hand a couple of times, before heading back to the Chantry to see what Josephine wanted.

It wasn't good. Ashanna's already dark and anxious mood worsened when Josephine handed her a letter of her clan. She didn't believe it. Why hadn't she get this sooner? The whole morning she had spent with her advisors, and neither of them had mentioned anything. Shaken she took it. That it was already opened made it only worse.

Josephine was talking about how they could contact her clan if she wished. To assure them about her well-being and that the Inquisition could try to support them. Ashanna barely registered what she said as she read the familiar curvy writing. She could taste the worry of her clan through the lines. Worry about her and what the future would bring to her and the clan. Not that it was written down, but the lack of any personal details and careful wording made it clear to her. Being declared a saviour by the humans would not only bring danger to her, but also to them.

Rattled she left Josephine's office. What if her actions would bring fort repercussions against her clan? What if the shemlen would use it as an excuse to attack them? Even if she wasn't on the best terms with them it was her family, it was her home.

“A good day Herald of Andraste. May I ask how your efforts of closing the Breach fare?”

“It would go a lot faster if people wouldn't bother me constantly.” Ashanna snapped at Mother Giselle.

Mother Giselle simply smiled at her. “The burden of being chosen by the Maker is a great one. Remember that Andraste also walked a difficult road, but she carried the Maker's torch not alone. She had many advisors and generals to share that burden. Take comfort in knowing you are not alone.”

“I am not Andraste!”

“Of course but her journey can help you to walk your own.”

“Herald. Commander Cullen asks for your presence at the training grounds.”

“Coming!” For once she was grateful for the interruption as she followed the messenger. If Mother Giselle had continued to spew her doctrine, there was a high possibility their only ally within the chantry would have ended up lightly scorched.

There was no end to this day. After she overlooked the training with Cullen, the smith wanted to discuss the increased need for supplies for the armory. After that Cassandra needed to talk about their plans to travel to the Storm Coast. It went on and on. Ashanna felt like she was trapped, chained down. It became difficult to breathe. Haven was too crowded, and the feeling she was being constantly followed grew with each minute. Her ears were twitching at every sound and whisper behind her back. She needed to get out of here, she needed to breathe.

Ignoring everyone, she left Haven and went into the forest. She walked until she couldn't hear anything except the wind rustling the trees and the faint bleating of rams in the distance. With a sigh, she sat down against a tree and lit her pipe. She took a long hale, and her anxiety dropped dramatically. Alone at last. Smoking she closed her eyes for a moment and let the calmness around her sink into her like a soothing balm. Finally, a small moment of peace.

With a groan, she thumbed her head against the tree behind her. “I don't believe it.” she growled.

Someone was walking towards her. She could hear the snow crunch below soft steps, treading slowly closer. She knew who it was before he came in sight.

She didn't know what to think of Solas yet. His lengthy explanations about the workings of the Fade, the past and magic were fascinating. He could talk hours about the things he had seen, like someone telling about their weird hobby. It was both captivating and vague, but she liked listening to him. He was one of the few people who wasn't constantly bugging her or asking for her approval. Somehow he knew what he needed to do and did so without questioning his decisions.

From the start, he had been different. Even in his urgency to get her to the Breach in one peace he kept his composure. Back then, he was not acting hostile towards her, like Cassandra, or trying to cover up his anxiety with humour as Varric did. He had treated her like a person, not some dangerous thing that had fallen out of the Fade.

Their differences about the Dalish aside, she was growing fond of him. He was someone she had the feeling he was someone she could rely on. With all they had seen and uncovered so far, he never flinched or panicked, always ready with valuable advice or to help. His tendency to think before he said something was also something she could relay to and admire. What would it take to get his calm exterior to crack she wondered? And somehow that thought was a strangely alluring to her.

Solas had no difficulty finding her. Her tracks were easy to follow in the fresh snow, and the strong smell of elfroot told him he was close. He had noticed her growing discomfort and anxiety throughout the day. After he saw her taking off, he had followed her. He took his time to walk up to her, giving her time to avoid him if she wanted.

“May I join you?”

She didn't say anything, just nodded. Solas sat down beside her and the pungent smell of burning elfroot assaulted his nose. He disliked it, but he understood her need to indulge in this bad habit. Since he had met her, there was always this level of anxiety around her. This anxiety was deeply rooted and affected her daily. It made her interactions with others more difficult. People perceived her often as hard and cold, but he had the impression she didn't know how to interact with so many different individuals. He suspected it was a form of self-protection. Not for the first time he wondered what a life she had before she had been plunged into this chaos he created.

To an extent, she could fake socialising, but it had its limits. He suspected not many had noticed, but she always reacted the same when pressed too hard. Like today, every time he had seen her she looked more lost. Like a deer run to exhaustion by a pack of wolves. Swamped by the burden of her title and the high expectations of everyone, she tried to escape. She was too young and inexperienced to shoulder this all on her own. He didn't blame her for wanting to seclude herself for he knew how life-crushing such responsibility was. They were trying to shape her into something she was not, something she never asked for.

What angered him was that no one seemed to care what it was doing to her. The Inquisition was growing and working meticulously since the start, trying to ensure everyone's needs, from food to weapons to security. Everyone was been taking care of, except for her. They had pushed her into this unrealistic role of saviour. They expected her to be strong, brave and confident in her decisions. Everyone was putting more and more on her shoulders, and he could see it was taking its toll on her. She had lost weight, was smocking more and the anchor was reacting to her turmoil. Nobody took the time to think about her needs, even in their attempts to socialise with her.

He wanted to help her, to do something for her and it had nothing to do with her bravery or the interest she peaked in him. No, he couldn't risk her collapsing. Too much was at stake.

Ashanna was getting nervous. Solas hadn't said a word since he had sat down. Like she had done, he stared into the distance. By know, he usually would have asked her a question or told her one of his tales. Not that she minded the silence, but it felt strange. No one would follow her out here just to sit next to her. He must want something of her, everyone did. Or was he expecting her to start talking? She shifted uncomfortable her anxiety rising again. Her mark crackled in response and she flexed her hand a few times in the hope the burning stings would go away.

Solas reached out to her. “May I?”

Observing him carefully she removed her glove and stretched out her hand.

Solas carefully traced the outline of the, to him, familiar magical energy with his fingers. He could feel the pulse of his magic struggling to settle in a foreign body. Not being properly controlled, it reacted to her emotions, lashing out when they were heightened. She couldn't properly handle his power. The slight control she displayed was remarkable, but it would be futile in the end. The mark would kill her, and he felt a strange heaviness in his heart at that thought that she at best had only a couple of years to live. Slowly he weaved a light healing spell combined with what little calming effect he had on the anchor. The crackling stopped, and he traced his healing up her arm to cool her irritated nerves and muscles.

Ashanna let out a sigh as the numb tingling pain faded away. “Thank you.”

Still holding her hand, Solas looked at her. “You are in pain.”

The look in his eyes was strange, it was not one of pitty but more like one of understanding. Though he hadn't asked her a direct question, she answered. “Not always, it is getting better. It is not as bad as it was in the beginning.” she pulled her hand back and rubbed it.

“Please come to me if it bothers you. You are important, you should take better care of yourself.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes. Of course, she was 'important'. It was not her they wanted. If she hadn't this damn mark, nobody here would care about her. She stared into the distance, wondering what would happen if she just left.

“Do you have any hobbies? Things you do in your spare time?”

Surprised she looked at her fellow elf. “You mean other than torching templars, bandits and other random people that attack us.” she said sarcastically as if she had time for a hobby.

“I can see the value of that.” Solas smiled lightly at her, and her heart made a small jump. “But I was hinting at something more common. Like painting or reading.”

A little bashful she looked at her feet, it had been a long time since anyone had asked after her interests. “I like to read. Varric just borrowed me some of his books.”

“Hmm, an interesting choice.”

“What? I like them.” she pushed his shoulder slightly and wondered how this conversation had become so casual. For the first time in days, she felt comfortable.

“They are light to read.” he admitted. “It is interesting to uncover the plot twists and turns.”

“You also read them? I would have never suspected.” she grinned.

“I have indulged. I was curious what all the fuss was about.” suddenly his looked turned more serious. “But casual reading when you find the time is not a solution.” He thought for a time, how to help her. “May I suggest you start to train more.”

“What?” asked Ashanna startled.

“I will advise that you receive more magical training under supervision. I will inform Josephine that the mark is interfering with your magical flow.”

In a blink of an eye the comfort she had felt disappeared. Angry she stared at him with fierce eyes. More training? How can he say that about her? He can't be serious?

Solas continued. “We will meet here in the woods around two hours after the midday bells. That should give you time to relax for about two to three hours. Do you think a schedule of every other day will suffice?”

When it sunk in what he suggested Ashanna's stare turned from anger to surprise.

He coughed when she didn't react. “It is not perfect, but it will give you some space.”

“You mean you will be here to watch me smoke.”

“Whatever you want to do. I will bring a book just in case.” he smiled at her.

A short while later they walked back to Haven. Somehow her steps felt lighter to Ashanna. Finally, she had something to look forward to.

#ashanna lavellan #secret santa #santaage2017 #dragon age inquisition #fanfic #gift

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