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padme4000writes · 5 years

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Fictober 3.“Now? Now you listen to me?” Rating: T

Pairing: Alistair x GN!Reader

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Wordcount: 1,644

Rating: T

Tal-vashoth mage reader.

Summary: You were always told to hide you are, to wear a hat to hide your horns. You understood why but hoped that the one person you cared for would accept you. On the eve of Battle you wonder if you'll ever see him again.

I know the line is used at the end, that is actually what I started with but then decided to write the before. As I just felt like it was a very Morrigan thing to say.

You were different, that much was clear from the get go. But you had learnt from those who raised you to hide your differences. So when the Grey Wardens recruited you, you felt like maybe that could be the start of letting people see you for you. Yet they still asked you to hide the things that defined who you were.

You might scare the locals or worse cause them to become hostile. That's what they always told you. You understood that, but you had to do it even in camp just in case you also had to hide that side of your life.

You should be proud of who you are, yet everyone made you feel otherwise. That was until he joined up. He would look at the oddly shaped hat, and wonder what made you like it so much. When in truth it was there to hide the things you use to love.

Then it happened, they appeared. The human of higher birth. The eyes you so adored looked elsewhere. No longer did your odd hat and odd personality hold his interest, or maybe it was just his nice personality wanting to help this newcomer. Or the simple fact he was ordered to guide them.

But you still couldn’t help but think that this pretty noble had caught his attention beyond that. So you watched sullenly as they got closer, as he laughed. Cursing the day you ever listened to anyone for telling you to hold back, telling you not to show who you really are. It was a miracle you never got caught by Templars and then you began to fall for an ex Templar.

And still they told you to hide, even though with being a Grey Warden they had no standing to take you in as an Apostate. Though the truth of the fact was that being a mage was not their main concern. The main concern had always been and always be what you hid under the hat.

And later the helm that hid the truth by showing the truth as part of the armours aesthetics.

You knew that not everyone liked your kind, or what they represented. You had seen how the elves were treated and still are treated. Whenever anyone saw the points of your ears they just assumed the hat was to try and hide them, and that you were tall for an elf. Little did they know you were and are a Tal-Vashoth. Something they did not like due to looking like those under the Qun.

A sigh left your lips as you continued to check the weapons for the upcoming battle. Later at night, he approached you first telling you of his day. His Ventures in the Korcari Wilds and his meeting with a Witch of the Wilds. When he came to the final piece of information, likely the main reason for him coming to talk to you. “Can you believe it? They don’t want me on the front lines.”

A raised eyebrow was all the answer you gave him, you had your theories on why that was the case. A certain blond king with similar features being the big key point in your theory. There were too many similarities for them not to be related in some form or another.

“Well?”

Another raised eyebrow, “Well, what?”

“Can you believe it?”

You nod a small smile lighting up your face, “Yes I can, and I’m pretty sure you know deep down the reasoning.” It was a test, one he failed when he froze and his eyes widened. You shook your head, “Your secret is safe with me, friend. But it would take a fool not to notice the similarities when seeing you both in such close quarters.” You stand, towering over the man who held your heart without any knowledge of the fact. You placed a hand on his shoulder, “But I did not know completely if my theory was true until now.”

“Oh.”

His embarrassment was endearing, “Promise me something?” When he said nothing you continued, “Don’t ever play Wicked Grace, you will fail miserably.” From the sag of his shoulders you realise he had likely thought you were going to say something much more serious.

You begin to walk away when his hand on your arm stops you, “Thank you.” He clears his throat before saying, “Look after yourself tomorrow and don’t hold back.” Instead he was being the serious one.

Then it was him who walked away, not you. You watched as his figure faded into the night. A heavy weight settling in your stomach, the thought that this may be the last time you lay eyes on him weighing on you heavily as you go prepare for the morning.

Don’t hold back. Did he know?

Then morning came. Then they came.

Your eyes drifted towards the tower you knew he would be going to, hoping it would instill some strength. Then you turned towards the oncoming storm, letting your hat fly off. The metal of your horns glinting in the morning light as you twirl your staff as if you were dancing, slamming it into ground. Watching as your magic takes effect.

You would fight till the end if it meant he would get more time in the tower to light the beacon. The fight was getting horrendous, two others you had befriended were getting surrounded so you lit their foes up in flames after casting a shield for them. Rushing to them, "Hawkes, are you okay?"

They both nodded, looking at the grim sights around them. You would live this day and while the Battle was lost, the war against this blight was yet to happen.

When you reached Lothering you helped the Hawkes prepare to leave but when they'd leave you would not follow.

You were back to wearing disguises, helping anyone you could while you waited in hopes he had survived. A few days had passed and there he was. You just stood off to the side of the Qunari Sten when you spotted him. He was with the noble and a witch of the wilds by the looks of it. Maybe the one he had told you about?

The Qunari made you uncomfortable, he had you pegged in minutes of you trying to talk to him. Which just made you even more uncomfortable. In fact he was still glaring at you. That being the only reason they looked in your direction.

Before you or anyone could do anything you had a human practically leap at you, wrapping you in their arms.

Due to being taller you rested your head on top of theirs. Heart wrenching at the heartbreaking sounds he was making at finding someone he cared about alive and well.

You hugged him back, never wanting to let go. You saw the mages face of disgust and glared when she opened her mouth to likely say something snarky going by the look on her face. Surprisingly she stopped, raising an eyebrow at your protectiveness.

But then she turned to the noble, who then exclaimed, "They're a what?"

Now he pulled away looking at them then you. A sigh left your lips. Glancing at the Qunari behind them half expecting it was him who told the witch of the wilds.

"It was me not your Qunari friend who told me what you are."

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow. "He is no friend of mine. He follows the Qun and would see my kind used or dead." He had made that abundantly clear. Labelling you Saarebas. You knew what the Qun did to mages. No thank you.

"Tal-vashoth? Interesting." You glanced at her again. "I am Morrigan and you are?"

"Not amused." You hear a snort from beside you and look at him. Expecting disgust or even hatred. None of it. He was smiling at you and then frowned in concern.

"You knew?" The noble had apparently worked out what you couldn't. "Well, Alistair?"

It was his turn to look a tad sour. "Of course I knew, I didn't tell you as it wasn't my place. That and judging by your reaction it was a good choice."

He was getting defensive for you. He knew and was defending you. This man had no idea what he was doing to your heart.

The noble sighs, "I do not mind what they are Alistair but a heads up would have been preferable." They nod to you, "I expect you'll be joining us?"

You couldn't help but notice the pleading look in his eyes. He thought you wouldn't? You had a job to do as a Grey Warden. A duty you didn't take lightly.

You also vowed to keep him safe. "I would not leave your side." You told him while looking him directly in the eyes. Ignoring the sound of disgust from Morrigan. Smiling when you noticed his cheeks flush.

He glanced at the others who were now talking to the Sten. Then he looked at you arm raising and his hand going to the back of his neck in what you assumed was a nervous mannerism. His cheeks flushing once more as he looked at you, "And I you."

The Tal-vashoth Grey Warden mage and the human Grey Warden ex Templar.

It was then you heard Morrigan shout at the Mabari, "Now? Now you listen to me!" You smiled thinking you were going to quite like being around all these people. Frowning at the Sten. Well almost everyone.

A hand taking yours made the frown fall from your face as a smile was sent your way from the one person you cared for most. Yes all that had led you here was worth it. And maybe just maybe this would be the start of accepting who you are and letting others accept it too.

#fictober19 #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #alistair x reader #alistair x qunari #padme4000writes #qunari reader #fictober day 3 #Rating: T #Rating: Teen

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i-would-rather-be-a-fairy · 5 years

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Let’s do this

Okay so thanks to fellow blogger maplefudge I have decided to try my hand at this writing blog thing because that’s what I love to do. So I’ll start with talking about my OCs. A little thing you should know about me is that I like to pair up my OCs with anime people I’ve had a crush on. Anyway first up we have Kimi Kumin!

That’s her! I made the picture with anime avatar factory, it’s a great app you guys should try it because I can’t draw to save my life anyway this is Kimi. The anime I made her for is Soul Eater, she is fifteen years old, she was born on December 25th, she is a Sagittarius, her birthstone is tanzanite, her favorite color is lavender, she is half witch half reaper, she is only five feet tall, and she is a meister at the DWMA, but she didn't start out this way.

Background: Kimi’s mother, Morgan, had Kimi when she was about twenty-five. Kimi was not born in a traditional way. She did not come from her mother’s womb, rather she came from a spell her mother had concocted. About three years before Kimi was born, Morgan wanted Lord Death dead. She had wanted him dead for years now and had set up multiple attempts to kill him, but none had been successful. Eventually, Morgan decided that if she was going to end Lord Death’s existence, she would have to get close to him. How she would do this was beyond her, he knew what she looked like, so sneaking into the little school he had created would be next to impossible. That’s when she decided that she would send someone to blend in with the other students at the DWMA in order to achieve her goal, but she didn’t know who she would send.

That’s when she met Kimi’s “father”, a nice reaper man named Kevin. Morgan seduced Kevin, and when she had him completely in her grasp, she tore half his soul from his body. Leaving him for dead, she took a portion of her own soul from her body, and fused the two together. This created Kimi. Morgan then left Death City, and moved to France. Where she raised Kimi in secret.When Kimi got old enough to ask why she didn’t have a father like the rest of her school friends, Morgan spun a tale of how the DWMA killed her father. She told Kimi that Morgan and Kevin had fallen in love and that when the DWMA found out about them, they killed Kevin and forced Morgan to watch.

For years, Morgan filled Kimi’s head with stories of how awful and ruthless the DWMA was, nurturing Kimi’s fear and hatred of the school. When Kimi was about ten years old she and her mother moved back to Death City to continue Kimi’s training.

Personality and Quirks: At first glance, Kimi is cold and stoic, but that's just during battle when out of battle and after she joins the DWMA she is shown to be shy, energetic, curious and kind. Because of Kimi's isolated childhood, there are a lot of things about life she has yet to experience. Kimi's body has no concept of hot and cold her temperature is always moderate no matter how hot or cold the climate around her is. She enjoys being praised and recognized. When Kimi is frustrated she tends to puff out her cheeks slightly and make a huff sound most people find this about her adorable.

Abilities: Since Kimi is a half witch and reaper she is shown to have many powers most if not all of them are shadow based. For example, she can morph her shadow into a cloak that helps her blend into the shadows. She can also control another person's shadow, and make it come to life. She can also create weapons out of shadows so if Alistair and Adrian aren't around she can make any means to defend herself. Another thing she can do is morph her body into a shadow and travel that way if she goes fast enough and builds up enough speed once she comes out of the shadows it leaves a large shockwave behind. Her soul resonance consists of Alistair and Adrian combining their weapon forms into one big sword once that happens the sword will glow and unleash a deadly shockwave that will kill anything it comes into contact with, which is why Kimi is always reluctant to use it. She can also create solid items out of shadows.

Her talents-Kimi is shown to be an outstanding cook, she also cleans really well which earned the nickname 'housewife' from her friends it's meant to be a playful insult, but she doesn't see it as such. Kimi is also a talented artist as shown when she shows Kid her sketchbook and he sees the detailed drawing she did of the DWMA, their friends, and each other (mostly him).

likes-Reading, cooking, baking, anime, drawing, k-pop, and rainy days

And that’s Kimi let me know what you guys think of her. P.S. I don’t own Soul Eater but Kimi is 100% mine.

#first time for everything #my ocs #soul eater #text post #my writing

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percywinchester27 · 6 years

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Stroke of Luck (What if...)

Word count: 1.4k

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: God awful angst, Graphic torture. ALL of it. Don’t read it if you think you can’t take it, cause even I cried.

A/N: This is an AU for my series Stroke of Luck. This is NOT what happens in the actual story. (No one is more thankful than me)

It just answers the question: What if the reader had been captured by Lilith’s demons while she was on the run?

Beta read by the fantastic @deanssweetheart23. I hope I’m forgiven now?

Something in his gut told Dean not to walk into that bar, to walk right out. But it had been a bad day, a bad hunt. The family they had been trying to save, was killed right in front of their eyes, slowly, one by one… and Dean could do nothing, except be held back against the wall by the demon. A little girl, about 8 years of age, had looked at him pleadingly, begged him to save her, but it had been too late. By the time he had managed to skewer the black-eyed son of a bitch, there was no one left to save.

Sam had gone quiet on the way back to the motel room, getting out of the car too quickly when it came to an halt. He had muttered something about meeting Dean at the bar after a quick shower and then rushed into the motel room.

Dean knew better than to stop him. If Sam needed to drown himself in the shower to ease the guilt and hurt, it was better to let him go. Dean, however, needed a drink to, at least, try and erase that scream, even if it was just for one night.

And so he walked into the bar, dragged a stool at the corner and ordered the strongest shit they had. The amber liquid burned on its way down.

"Trying to forget all the misery you caused?"

The voice itself would have been enough to tear him out of the heaviest of stupors, because no other voice had that timbre. Only hers. But that was not what made him turn around. It was the sarcasm, the bitterness. It was so seasoned and so not her.

He didn't know what his face showed when he turned to look at her, but hers was a mask of indifference and coldness, something that Dean had known to be impossible. Y/N had been the gentlest of souls. The woman standing before him, though beautiful and regal, looked so much like her… but couldn't possibly be her… because his Y/N hadn't been so forbidding.

"Surprised?" She grinned, but it just threw Dean off more because it made her Y/E/C eyes harsher.

"Y/N…" He whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, he remembers." She took a seat next to him, and gestured another one of what he was having. "I heard you were top up again," she added conversationally, like she wasn't talking about his death, but the weather outside.

Dean, for the life of him couldn't think of what to say. He wanted to hug her, kiss her, cry… but she seemed different. Completely another. The huge scar dominating the side of her face, stretching from her forehead along the jaw-line and disappearing into her jacket seemed to draw his eyes.

What had happened to her?

"Not much of a talker these days, I see," she said, downing the shot, and asking for another one. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to you?" Dean uttered, still shell shocked.

She turned to look at him, and for the first time that night, the indifferent mask slipped, but what lay underneath made his heart stop. The seething hatred in her eyes was too evident to miss.

"You happened to me, Dean Winchester."

This was another nightmare. It had to be. Maybe Dean was still sleeping and the whole day had been a long, nightmare. The thousand times he had dreamed of seeing her again, none of those scenarios had ended like this.

He tried still. "If it's about that night…" God, it seemed like another life now.

Abruptly she started laughing, uncontrollably and disturbingly.

"I'm sorry, this is just too funny… sorry," she tried to get it under control, but then started laughing again.

A flash of anger, that's what Dean felt. Not for her, no, but for whatever had happened that had driven her to become so callous. Was it really because of him?

He tried again, "Y/N/N…"

"No!" She said, stopping suddenly. The tears of laughter in her eyes seemed threatening now. "Don't you dare call me by that name. Don't you dare…"

She got down from the stool, kicking it back, but Dean's hand was faster, gripping hers in a tight grip. "No, you're not getting out of here without telling me what happened."

She whipped around, like a wounded animal, wrenching her hand back painfully. "Like you care?" She yelled. "Like you cared for the hundreds of messages and missed calls I left. Like you cared if I lived or died after you fucked and left me? I was nothing more than an easy lay to you, Winchester. Nothing."

"Don't you-"

"Dare?" She seethed. "No! You don't ever dare touch me again. I lost my everything because of you. My dad, father Jim… my… my kid."

What?

"She had your eyes, you know," Y/N said, her voice breaking, showing a hint of tenderness for the first time. "She had your eyes, and long blonde locks. She was always so full of curiosity. The one time her teacher called me to school, it was to tell me that my little girl was a genius. A child prodigy… Golden. That she would grow up to do great things…"

"Hold up!" Dean said. His voice was shaking along with his whole body. "What… what did… about my daugh-"

"No!" She hissed. "Mine. All mine. You are nothing to her. You are the reason she's dead. Because your blood flowed in her veins, because she could be some big-shot angels ride into the town. Because you never cared to pick my calls or be bothered to find out about the girl you occasionally screwed." Her tears fell hot and heavy now, the expression in her eyes feral.

"They wrenched her from my arms and made me watch as they skinned her alive. I screamed till I lost my voice. Then they left her in my arms to die… bloody. She breathed her last breath there. You want the details?"

Dean fell back on the stool, bile rising to his throat, tears pricking in his eyes.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice sounded from behind. His face surprised.

"There he is, my best friend!" She exclaimed, voice falsely excited. "Behold the great Sam Winchester. The one whose secret cost me everything. One who didn't hesitate for a second before throwing me out on the streets after his brother died. I mean you enjoyed your life in Stanford while I was left to run like a savage, and looks like you have your brother back now too. It is SO great to see you."

Sam looked like he had been slapped.

"I heard you two saved the world an all. Well, congratulations on that. But you destroyed mine. Congratulations on that, too."

She threw a wad of cash on the counter, and yelled to the bartender on the other side. "This covers for him, too. Anyway, I'm the only one who has paid for everything around here."

She walked away, but turned back once. "Her name was Violet, by the way. I used to lovingly call her Sam. And the only lie I ever told her was that her Daddy loved her. She died believing in that. And for all I know, you two can die knowing that."

With that she walked out, her shoulders shaking as the door slammed behind her. And Dean? Nothing Alistair had ever done would even compare to what he felt inside like in that moment. He blinked his eyes rapidly, hoping to wake up from the nightmare, but all he could see was the beseeching, blood smeared face of a little girl with blonde hair and green eyes. His eyes.

*****************************************

A/N: Author would like you remind y’all that at this moment, Violet is probably worrying about her finals, safely cocooned in a blanket with a hot mug of coffee in her Stanford dorms (Spoiler alert: She’s gonna ace them). And Dean and the reader have their hands full trying to raise a beautiful baby girl. Sam is trying his luck with Eileen. In the actual SOL universe, they are all happy! <3

For those who are new, read it here:

Stroke of luck

tagging: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @jayankles @deanssweetheart23 @blacktithe7 @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @heavymetalhauswife @ericaprice2008 @jotink78

#dean x reader #dean x oc!daughter #Ana writes sol #dean winchester x reader angst #spn angst #q

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cha0ticmimzy · 6 years

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Here Lies The Abyss, part I

Author’s Notes: Word slips out from the soldiers about just who Sylthana is, and what she’s done. Cullen chooses the wrong time to approach her about it. Word Count: 1943 Warnings: Spoilers for Here Lies The Abyss, and slight gore? Not really much of anything.

“So, it’s true?” Cullen asked, voice soft as Sylthana carefully examined her blades. He’d been surprised when he’d entered her chambers only to find her entire bed and the desk covered with various blades of different sizes and poisons- so many poisons. “Your past?”

“Yes.” Came the simple reply as the rogue stood, holding a blade up to the light. It was crafted in such a way that down the center lay a vein that held poison. The poison was poured into it by the handle- a small panel that could be pressed upon, opening the chamber to hold the poison. Far safer compared to simply dousing a blade in poison and calling it a day! “I was a blade for hire. You knew that already.”

“No.” Cullen shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside the fireplace. “You know that isn’t what I meant, Sylthana.”

“What do you want me to say, Cullen?” She exclaimed, spinning around to face her lover. “That I’ve killed more men than you have? That I’m the creature parents tell their children of to get them to behave? That I could put the Antivan Crows to shame with some of the murders I’ve done?

"Or do you wish to hear of the exact details? How I’ve flayed men alive while they screamed out their secrets? How I’ve broken bones, pulled out nails, all to send a message or for coin?” Cullen’s face had paled, but she didn’t stop. He wanted the truth- he would have it. “Or better yet, what about the time I was sent to Orlais to slaughter an entire family while they slept? All aside from the child? I’ve done horrible things, Cullen. And once this whole… Shit show is over, chances are- I’ll do them again.”

Cullen was silent, studying the woman before him. Fierce- he’d known that from the first time he’d seen her, in the War Room. Terrifying- yes, he knew that as well, from watching her training against Solas and Varric’s attacks. Monstrous? The thought had never crossed his mind. But now, know that she was the Shadow of Fereldan- that she was a murderer, and a very accomplished one at that… It sent a chill across his skin. Heat, anger, coursing through his veins.

“I’m not a good person.” Sylthana whispered, oceanic hues dark with subdued anger. “I won’t pretend as if I’m some saint. I’m not.”

Cullen frowned, finding himself at a loss for words. She wasn’t a horrible person, nor a monster. But he couldn’t ignore the horrors of what she had done.

“… If you aren’t going to say anything, leave.” Her voice broke through the silence, and he noticed that she was shaking. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but- “Leave. Now.”

“… You aren’t a horrible person.” He murmured before he turned, making his way down the stairs quietly. He tried to ignore it, tried his best- but the sound of her sobs pierced the silence, then came the sound of glass shattering. Brow furrowing, he opened the door- and closed it. Let her think he left.

He would wait.

She didn’t need to be alone.

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since that night. Three weeks since Sylthana had told Cullen to leave- and he left. Or, well- he didn’t leave. She knew he didn’t: after she’d stopped crying, she could hear him occasionally shift.

In the morning, though, he was gone.

She avoided him as much as she could, but eventually, she had to see him. She had to, because Adamant. Because of that damned mission. They needed to see what was happening, and Cullen’s men would be there. He would be there, leading his men. So would Hawke, and King Alistair. Two men she never thought she’d meet.

How odd, that in just a few months, all of this would happen.

Swallowing down her pride, she finished packing away her weapons and potions, pausing to stare at the coin Cullen had given her.

She slid the coin into a hidden inner pocket within her armor before leaving her quarters.

The Western Approach was hot, and sandy, and hot. Too bright, too. Solas stood to her right, Cassandra to her left, and Bull directly behind. Perfectly flanking her. Before her, the fortress stood- tall, imposing. Something was wrong- she could feel it in the air. The wind didn’t blow here, as if nature itself had sensed something was wrong.

Hawke and Alistair met her at the entrance, both men tall and menacing, yet holding a worried air about them. Hawke explained that blood magic was being performed, and that he would take pointe as she and Alistair went in first.

The sight of the fade rift made her blood curdle as her mark reacted to it.

“Inquisitor! So glad you could make it. Lord Livius Erimond de Virantium, at your service.” The man spoke, voice holding hints of a Tevene accent, as he bowed low at the waist. A mockery. Just the sight of him was enough to cause her skin to c r a w l. How disgusting.

“I’m guess you’re not a Warden,” Alistair spoke up beside her, drawing her gaze to the king.

“But you are. The one Clarell let slip.” Erimond spat out, disgust lacing his words. “And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?” He sneered.

“Looks like you’ve already done some of my work f o r me.” Sylthana chimed in, a cold, cruel smirk curling her lips.

“What, him? We simply needed his blood. Oh- were you hoping to garner sympathy? Maybe make the Warden feel a bit of remorse? Wardens, hands up!” As if puppets upon a string, the remaining wardens lifted their left hands. Sylthana bared her teeth in disgust as she drew out her blade. “Hands down.”

“Corypheus has enslaved them.” Alistair snarled out, disgust evident within his voice.

“They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked everywhere for help.” Erimond shrugged, as if it explained everything. Sylthana found herself hating the man more with every passing second.

“Including Tevinter.” Alistair finished, eyes narrowing.

“Yes, and since it was my Master who put the Calling into their little heads, we and the venatori were prepared.” The snake of a man continued to speak. All Sylthana could picture as slicing his throat open and letting him choke upon his own blood. “I went to Clarell full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan.” A moment passed as his words sunk in to those present. “Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

Horror settled upon her bones. Beside her, she felt Alistair stiffen. Solas hissed softly, and Bull let out a disgusted grunt.

“Ah, I was wondering when the demon army would show up!” She pitched in, sarcasm coating her words. Behind her, she could hear Solas’ approving chuckle.

“You… Knew about it, did you? Well then!” Erimond was thrown off his game. A sly smirk curled Sylthana’s lips as she listened to the waver in his voice. “Here you are. Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They’re now my master’s slaves!

"This was a test. Once the remaining wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas!” Erimond finished.

A snarl curled her lip upwards, a sharpened incisor gleaning in the desert sun. “That’s all I needed to know!” She all but growled out, bloodlust filling her veins.

Erimond smirked. “Oh, please,” voice saccharin, he tossed a hand up, red coating it before Sylthana’s mark activated. Pain ripped through her, causing her to let out a yelp as she doubled over, grasping her wrist.

“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you in the event that you were foolish enough to interfere again.” She collapsed, knees thudding against stone harsh enough to make her teeth clack before she doubled over. It felt as if liquid lightning were filling her veins. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my Master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to seek access to the Veil.” Erimond explained, seething with hatred.

Sylthana let out a soft gasp as the pain subsided. Slowly, she rose to her feet- only to allow the Anchor to activate, closing the rift before her. “You talk far too much.” She murmured, more to herself than anything, as Erimond began to scamper away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Kill them!” Erimond called out in command. Battle broke out, demons and wardens alike fighting. It ended just as quickly as it started, however- Sylthana tried not to think of the innocent, confused wardens whose lives had been stolen from them.

Hawke jogged forward, blood splattered across his armor. “They refused to listen to reason,” he explained.

“You were right,” Alistair began, “thanks to the ritual, the Wardens are enslaved to Corypheus.”

Sylthana didn’t want to admit the sympathy she felt as she left the Western Approach.

Skyhold was chaos when she returned. Soldiers were readying themselves for battle, healers were scattered here and there. Scouts were constantly coming and go to and fro. She almost missed the Western Approach.

Had it not been for the blood magic.

Quietly, she slipped away, hiding within her chambers for a moment of peace. Which didn’t last long, for the sound of her door opening reached her. Heavy footfalls thudded upon the stairs, armor clinking with each step. Cullen. She knew it before she could even see his blond hair appear.

“Josephine told me where you were. I… Hope I’m not intruding?” He stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, as if he were ready to take off the moment she dismissed him. It sent a jolt of pain through her, but she dismissed it quickly.

“What is it?” She asked as she began to clean her blades. Cullen shifted his weight before approaching slowly, akin to how one would approach a wild animal. It made her want to laugh. Then again, perhaps that’s what she was- some sort of wild animal.

“I… Wanted to check in and see how you were.” His voice was so soft, so gentle. Oh, how it pained her to have hurt him.

Sighing, she turned, sapphire gaze taking in the worry upon his face. “I’m fine. Tired from the journey back, but fine otherwise. Have Josephine and Leliana gone to the War Room already?” She asked, turning to strip off her armor. It wasn’t as if she were stripling down completely just enough to get the heavy breastplate and chainmail off. Yet, she still heard him move, turning his back to her.

A gentleman.

“They have.”

“Good.” Armor successfully taken off, she turned, and went to move past him. That is, until she paused mid step and looked up at him. “Cullen… I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t-”

“I do. I’m sorry. And I promise, we will talk- after all of this. Let’s get through this, and then we can talk.” A nervous weight settled upon her shoulders as she studied his expression. Relief danced with worry in his eyes, but he still nodded. Slowly, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Of course. Lead the way, Inquisitor.”

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age #cullen rutherford #cullenmance #cullen romance #cullen x lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #sylthana lavellan #the ice queen inquisitor #here lies the abyss

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loghainmactir · 5 years

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just you and i; repost edition

title: two last wardens series: just you and i (1/?) relationships: male warden/loghain mac tir, male warden/alistair theirin characters: padril mahariel, alistair theirin words: 1.4k summary: The Landsmeet is only a day away, and the stress is beginning to wear at Mahariel. After disappearing into the crowds of Denerim, a friend comes to console him. notes: Hi y’all! Because of tumblr’s brand new hatred of posts with links, I’m just reposting the full fic chapters here. They’ll still be on AO3, but I’ll no longer be only updating JUST AO3. Anyway, here it is!

They had arrived in Denerim a little after midday. With foreheads glistening under the bright afternoon sun, they headed to the estate in the centre of the Market. Still dirtied and bloody from their travels, they're treated to a lunch much bigger and luxurious than they’d had in years. Two impossibly large birds sat at either end of the table, vegetables plated around them. Padril hadn’t seen that amount of food all together in one spot before in his life, and he ate little. He swore if he swallowed anything, it’d just come back up again.

Escorted through the estate by Eamon, they made themselves comfortable where-ever they were told to. After a whole year on the road, sleeping with moth-eaten blankets and weather-worn tents, wearing the same set of armour every day- it was difficult to adjust. The Arl's estate was so wildly different to what they’d gotten used to that it was jarring.

As soon as everyone was looking elsewhere, Padril escaped outside.

They’d been to Denerim a few times before for the odd job or necessary purchase. Nothing that ever required more than a day’s stay, but the experiences made the crowds less overwhelming. Regardless, he kept Eamon’s estate within eyesight the entire time. He imagined it was all too easy to lose one single elf in this city; if anyone really needed him, they’d find him easily.

Padril settled at a stall run by an elderly human woman. She was hunched over and covered in wolf furs to protect her from the chilly Ferelden wind, her grey hair tied back in a tight bun. Her little wooden table was full of hand-made scented candles and soaps and incense. If she ever turned her nose up at his pointed ears and the vallaslin on his skin, he didn’t notice.

His eyes scanned the table for a moment, and he plucked a bar of cream soap from it. He lifted it to his nose and breathed in; it smelt like honey and vanilla, and he paid three gold extra for it. Well, he was going to die in the next few days, he figured he’d better smell good doing it. Padril turned around, about to pocket the soap, but instead he ran straight into what felt like a big, human-shaped metal wall.

They caught his elbow as he stumbled backwards, and a light chuckle came from them– oh, it was Alistair. He hadn’t removed his armour– then again, neither had Padril– and it made him look bigger than he already was. Alistair was tall and soft under all that metal. Good for hugs. But running into him like that kinda stung.

For the first time in a longest time, there was a warm smile on Alistair’s face. “Hey there, bud,” He greeted. “Preparing for the Landsmeet?”

A smirk played on his face. As much as he had come out to avoid the Landsmeet discussion, Alistair was one of his best friends. So Padril offered the bar to him. “Yeah, actually. Thought you could use it! You’re the worst smelling shem I’ve ever met!”

Alistair laughed and took the bar– his face crinkled as he smelt it and he tossed it back to him with a shake of his head. “I’m much more of a, uh, lavender kinda guy.” He admitted. “Uh—if you’re not busy right now, d’you– um, want to go talk?” Padril gave a sharp nod, and he followed him out of the market, hit the main streets of Denerim.

The streets were full of people; refugees from the blight were everywhere. Bleeding and crying in the alleyways, sleeping on steps, begging for copper at the corners. It was hard to move, and it took almost thirty minutes just to walk to the docks. Padril kept his hand on his coin-purse the entire trip.

They settled on the end of one of the wooden piers. Padril pried off his leather boots and let his feet dangle to the water underneath. Alistair sat a little back, made sure his metal boots didn't get wet. The sun was warm, and the water was bright blue and sparkling. For everything that was happening and was about to happen– it was beautiful. As beautiful as a city like Denerim could be, anyway.

For a few moments they sat in a comfortable silence, staring out at the Amaranthine Ocean. It was then that Alistair cleared his throat. “So... it’s tomorrow. Are you nervous?”

A hollow laugh escaped Padril’s throat. “I don’t know how we’re gonna do this. The Landsmeet— it’s full of nobles who’ve known Loghain their whole life. Or, almost. What have we done to earn their trust? For all they know, we’re the traitors.”

“Funnily enough, when you left that’s what Eamon talked about. He says there’s some who aren’t too sure about him. Like we can convince them we’re worth listening to, that the Blight is the real threat here.” Alistair scowled for a second as silence fell over them again. His voice grew grave. “We can do it. We have to. For Cailan. For Duncan. They need justice.”

As sure as Alistair sounded, Padril wasn’t quite there. “I’m so tired of everything.” He sighed heavily. “I want it to be over.” A thick arm wrapped around him, and suddenly, Padril was leaning into it— it was grounding, comforting.

“We can do this,” He repeated. “I mean, really, look at what we’ve survived so far. Zevran’s assassination attempt—“ That made Padril laugh, “The tower, the Anvil. We found Andraste’s ashes, Padril. We did that! What’s one more man to us, huh? That’s all he is.” It was clear he was trying to be reassuring. He was trying so hard— Padril appreciated it. “And afterwards we’ll go to Highever for Duncan, and Orlais for Leliana and Sten’ll go to Par Vollen but we’ll bake him cookies. We’ll have to find Wynne a giant quilted blanket—“ He stopped himself. “We’ll be ok.”

“Eamon will still want you to be king, you know.”

“I know.” He sounded so uncomfortable— Padril felt guilty for even mentioning it. “But they’ll find someone else. I mean, they’ve got to. I— I’d make a horrible king. A terrible one. Really! Could you imagine it? Me, in all those fancy robes? Ick.” Alistair pulled away, then, and gave a shudder. “Morrigan’d never let me live it down. I can hear her mocking me now. And all those meetings they have to attend— nuh-uh. Nope! It’s just… such a bad idea.”

He’d started to ramble. Usually, Padril would’ve listened regardless– but his mind was wandering. The cold seawater splashed against his legs, and he kicked it back.

“They’ll find some poor sod who actually wants it,” Alistair continued. “Like– oh, maybe one of the Couslands. I know they’re, um, few in numbers these days, but I think the youngest and the oldest children are still around. Fergus– the older one, I think?– is meant to be pretty popular. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway–“ He caught himself again, and quickly shut himself up. He could tell he was starting to feel self-conscious, now. It radiated off of him like heat, made the silence enveloping them awkward and uncomfortable.

So the elf nudged him in the ribs with his elbow and offered his most reassuring smile. It was a struggle, but for Alistair, he’d muster it. “I love you, y’know. And so does everyone else. We won’t let anyone rope you into something you don’t wanna do.” He promised.

It got Alistair smiling, at the very least. “I love you too, bud. Y’know, out of everyone it could’ve been– I’m glad I have you here. I dunno if we’d have gotten this far without you.”

Padril couldn’t help it, but he snorted. “Oh, trust me,” He grabbed his boots from where they sat by his side. “Anyone could’ve done this a lot better.” Before he could protest, Padril yanked a spare rag from the pouches at his belt, dried the water from his skin, and pulled on his boots. “C’mon. We better go see who Eamon thinks we should butter up first.”

He offered his hand down to his friend, and Alistair took it. Padril made sure he was a few steps ahead of him, avoiding his eyes. The Landsmeet loomed over his head. And what awaited them if they really did fail? Execution? Loghain would never realize the threat of the Blight in time. It was already too late. The past year would be for nothing, and Ferelden would probably fall. And it’d all be on him.

Creators, Padril thought. Why hadn’t everyone just left me to rot like they had Tamlen?

#loghain mac tir #dragon age #alistair theirin #loghain x warden #just you and i #my writing #long post #just in case for mobile users and the mobile doesn't show up #OC: Padril #ok to reblog

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 6 years

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Explanations

Characters: Alistair Therein, Ilya Surana, Jowan Length: 3,114 words Rating: T+: minor character death, on-screen canon-typical violence, anti-Chantry, anti-Circle, implied violence.

In which Alistair asks a difficult question and gets a fight he wasn't really prepared for. Or, in which Surana really fucking hates on the Circle and the Chantry.

Read it on AO3!

His eyes. His damn eyes. They had a flash about them, when he was emotional; when the Templars tried to tear him away, when he begged for his freedom in Redcliffe, or even when they had stowed themselves away in the library to whisper about hopes and fears and dreams, they had shone with some inner light.

They were haunting her. Or maybe, perhaps, he was haunting her.

“Are you all right, dear?”

She stirred in her bedroll, sitting up to peek out from under her blankets. Wynne’s concerned face peered back at her, lit by a small flickering ball of magelight.

“You sounded like you were having a fright, are you well?”

Ilya groaned and rubbed at her eyes, pressing the lingering image of Jowan’s face back to the Fade. “Just another bad dream, Senior Enchanter. I’ll get used to them.”

Wynne pursed her lips in the way Ilya was coming to know, in a way that heralded some advice or a well-meaning lecture, but she only nodded. “I’m here if you need me, my dear,” she reminded her, and turned back to her own blankets after another sweep of Ilya’s face.

Ilya burrowed back into her blankets, the fur thick and dense around her face. Around her their companions dozed or worked quietly in the night. She could hear Zevran humming to himself as he sharpened his dagger at the fire a few feet away, the rhythmic scrape of his whetstone lulling her into a disquiet stillness.

Would her leadership lead to his death, too? To the others?

Please, Jowan had begged her, back in the Circle. Freedom, he said. We can be free, just like we said we would be.

Don’t talk like that, she had warned him. Anders - another stray, another bound to get himself into more trouble than he could bear - had already been punished, this time whisked away from the others, somewhere no one had seen them. I don’t want to lose you, too.

Lily and I will go find yours. We’ll track them all down, so we can finally be free, and then we’ll go start a farm somewhere quiet. Maybe Orlais.

He knew exactly what to say, and he had known it. It was too late for her. They’d already sent her phylactery off from the Circle, far from where he could find them on his own, but maybe she could help him - could save one person from the horrors of the Circle, if not herself. He had been a brother to her, the first friend she had made when she first arrived at Kinloch, and he had come to her in his Void-damned hour of need.

She had to take the opportunity to save one of them, because both were never meant to survive the Circle.

“And look where that got us,” she muttered into the blankets. The lay-sister Lily had been sent to Aenor, the massive mage prison; Ilya had been conscripted into the Wardens to avoid being made Tranquil for her assistance of a blood mage, and Jowan…

Jowan had been left to rot in his own gore in the dungeon of Redcliffe castle.

“Help me, please,” he asked her quietly, his hands gripped white-knuckle tight around the iron bars of his cell. Jowan’s eyes flitted from the silent faces of her companions before focusing back on her own. “I’m sorry, Ilya, I… I want to make this better.”

Alistair protested when she opened the door. “He just tried to kill the Arl, Surana!” he snapped, his hand reaching for his sword. “He’s a confessed blood mage, what if he - what if he tries to hurt you? Make you his thrall?” He paused, horror dawning over his face as his gaze jumped between her and Jowan. “You’re not going to let him go, are you?”

Ilya looked over her shoulder at him, biting her lip. It was a risk she was willing to take - one she had taken before, not that she knew so at the time - but her hand stilled all the same as it lingered on the massive locking mechanism. “Trust me,” she said, and she walked into the small cell.

“Ilya,” Jowan whimpered, pulling her into a tight embrace. It was so much like the old times; if she could ignore the rot and mold of the dungeon, maybe they could still be back there, hating their existence but together in their misery.

She stepped away to sit on the low cot, the damp cell walls leaching the heat from her body through her robes, and she patted the space beside her with a bittersweet familiarity. Jowan hesitated, no doubt the remembrance of many such instances coming to his mind, as well, but he joined her, letting her enfold him into her arms as she had done time and time again at the Circle. Once more they were just children - scared and alone in a world that swept them along in its hatred.

“Do you remember what we had said in the Circle, Jowan?” she asked, settling with his back against her chest, his head nestled into her shoulder. Ilya adjusted her position and ignored the discomforted shuffling of her companions outside the cell.

“Anything,” he answered. “We would do anything to get out, the three of us.” Jowan relaxed into her embrace, and she could see the tears that spilled over his cheeks.

He had grown thin in his life outside the tower, Ilya realized distantly, his ribs clearly felt under the threadbare fabric of his robes. “And we will do everything to be free, to be people. That was it, right? What we said back then, you, me, and Anders?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Jowan’s eyes shone with tears as he twisted to look at her, their limbs splayed awkwardly over the small bed. His hand rose to lace his fingers with her own, and if he saw the dagger in her left hand from the corner of his eye, he didn’t care. “Don’t let them take me away, Ilya, don’t let the Templars take me back there. I won’t survive if they do.”

Ilya closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the hilt of her short blade. As a blood mage, the Templars would have him killed, or made Tranquil to continue to work for the Circle. As the attempted assassin who tried to kill one of the more powerful men in Ferelden, Bann Teagan or the Guerrin family would have him put to death. And as a failed loose end of his growing coup, Regent Loghain would need to kill him before word got out that he was behind the attempt.

There was no way Jowan could walk out of the dungeon alive; at the very least, he wouldn’t be alive for long if he did.

“I won’t.” Her blade was sharp and quick as she helped a feared blood mage one more time, burrowing the tip into his chest.

Jowan did not fight, and she hated him all the more for it. It was a mess - she had held the dagger in her off-hand, the positioning less than ideal, and she more likely punctured his lung rather than caught his heart, but he didn’t fight her.

“I’m sorry, Jowan,” she murmured into his hair, tightening her grip on his slackening fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The light faded from his eyes as she held him, blood foaming on his lips as he stuttered for breath that never came.

It was just before dawn when she emerged from her tent to find Alistair’s hollow eyes watching her from across the firepit. He nodded to her as she approached, blanket wrapped tightly about her shoulders, and joined him near the small fire.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked quietly, the words slow and uncertain. “Back in Redcliffe, I mean.”

Ilya sniffled, still struggling with the dream. Alistair hadn’t spoken to her in days, since they had left the castle. “You mean Connor.”

“I… yes. And your friend.”

She sighed. “I don’t expect you’ll understand,” she said simply. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“I’m trying to get it, Surana. I just…” he trailed off, his voice small. “I don’t know why it had to happen like that, is all. I want to know why, to understand you. I… I couldn’t have - wouldn’t have - made that choice. For either of them.”

Ilya’s gaze dropped to the ground as she saw Jowan’s eyes flash through her mind again, as she heard the demonic laughter of Connor’s demon ring through the forest clearing. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she started, “living in the Circle.”

She felt him stir beside her, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s… it’s the worst thing I can imagine for a person. Really. Wynne seems to have grown to be okay with Circle life but I never did. Jowan and I… we would sit and dream of life outside the tower. Good, bad, anything was better than being imprisoned like that.”

“...And that was why you… that’s why you killed them?”

“Death is better than being sent to the Circle.” Ilya turned to watch his face contort with the idea, his lip curling into a weak protest. “Isolde was ready to die to save Connor, but he was only going to be ripped away from her and Eamon anyway. I can’t say whether he would have survived the Circle, but the Templars would have watched him all the more for all this.”

“It wasn’t your call to make,” he ground out. “It might have been better than -”

“It was only my call!” Ilya exclaimed, her voice loud in the quiet morning air. She shook her head and stood. “You wanna have this out? Then let’s have this out, but not in the middle of camp. People are still sleeping.”

She stomped toward the tree line, clutching her blanket close and trying not to shiver as Alistair moved behind her. The light scrape of metal on chainmaille always sent a cold shudder down her spine, too close to the Templar captors of the Circle. Ilya leaned into the firm trunk of a tree as he shuffled on his feet, studying his face.

“You are the more senior Warden, Alistair, but you defer to me and make me take charge. Which means you let me, or maybe make me, make all the decisions. And I have to be okay with that, because you’re really not that much senior to me. So, okay, I live with it.”

Alistair nodded, his brow furrowing slightly. “Okay…”

“But you, in all your templar-ness, would have saved Connor, would have done everything you could to do so, and would have ruined a family when the Order came to take him. And I couldn’t do that to them.”

He shook his head incredulously. “So the only option in your mind was to kill him? Surely there was something else we could have done!”

“Connor was essentially dead, Alistair, but at least I gave them a body to mourn, a reason why they will no longer know and love their son. If he had been taken to the Circle, he could die and they would never know. And he might have - he had already made a deal with a demon, and neither the Knight Commander nor the First Enchanter would take kindly to that, especially after the uprising at the Circle.”

She huffed, her nails biting into the thick skin of the fur blanket. “Even if that wouldn’t have happened, even if he weren’t killed or immediately made Tranquil, he would have nothing of his life outside the Circle. We’re told that not even the King could have made contact with a mage at the tower. No letters, no visits, nothing. Nothing of his life from before. He would have been lost to the Guerrins anyway.”

“And is that so bad? To be sent somewhere to learn and be protected?”

She bristled and stepped away from the tree trunk. Alistair, to his credit, only flinched when she whipped her hand from her chest and pointed a finger in his face.

“To be sent somewhere where you learn you are nothing, you mean - less than nothing. A weapon. We learn to control our power, yes - ice, or fire, or lightning, or healing, or a whole slew of useful things, helpful things - but the Chantry turns us into weapons. We’re only pulled from our tower in times of war, Alistair, and only because otherwise warriors like you might fall.”

“That - that doesn’t sound entirely fair,” he sputtered, raising his hands. “Aren’t Circles supposed to be helpful to you mages? To… to harness the power you have, make sure that it doesn’t, ah, rule over you, like in the Chant? Surely that’s worth something.”

“You don’t even know!” Ilya barked out a laugh, harsh and bitter. “I was stolen from my parents at eleven years old, Alistair. I wasn’t Andrastian then, and I’m not now, and that was one of the biggest thorns in my side the whole time. The Sisters and the templars who oversaw the apprentices continually complained to Irving about my being a heathen, about my disbelief in Andraste and the Maker and the whole Void-damned Chantry. If there was no Chantry, there’d be no reason for the Circle and the Templar Order to be how they are, right? And I told them so, repeatedly. They had no sway over me, but I didn’t want to die. I was smarter than that.”

She grit her teeth. Ilya could feel the tears forming in her eyes, but she’d be damned if the fucking former-templar prince of Ferelden saw her cry. “They didn’t make me a better mage, Alistair, they just remade me into a tool easier to use. They do it to all of us. We aren’t people in the eyes of your Chantry, and it doesn’t even matter if we don’t believe in the Maker or the Chant or the Chantry. They hate us the same and they kill us, little by little, in those damned towers.”

Alistair’s steel-clad fists clenched, fingers pumping anxiously as he thought. “But there was a chance to save Connor,” he grit out. “The Circle mages could have--”

“And that was time we didn’t have. Would you have had us save Redcliffe Village just to lose it while traveling to the Circle, to beg them for mages and resources they can’t spare? Or do you not remember the blood mages and demons that overtook that damned place, Alistair?”

“He was a child, Surana!”

“And he was my decision, Theirin,” she hissed. “I will never willingly let mages go to the Circle. I will never let the Templar Order and the damned Chantry have any more control of us than they already have stolen!”

Alistair ran a hand through his hair, his growing distress plain on his face. “But you didn’t let the templars kill the mages in the tower,” he countered. “If that’s how you feel, why didn’t you?”

She stilled, her eyes narrowing on his face. “Did you see Cullen’s face when he gave that order?” Ilya shrugged off the fur blanket, her anger radiating off her in hot waves. “I will not be made a pawn of any templar or Chantry apologist. Not you, not him, not the Knight-Commander, not even the fucking king, if Ferelden can get this war figured out.”

“Then why?” he insisted. “I’m trying to understand but you’re talking in circles around me. I don’t know what you mean!”

“Because I can hate the Circle and the templars and the damned Chant of Light all I want, Prince Alistair, but I will not hate my fellow mages for a curse your god gave us,” she spat. “I will not play into the hands of the Chantry by declaring Kinloch Hold unfit for recovery. Connor and Jowan would not have survived that tower, but the mages there had a chance. I couldn’t let Greagoir annul the entire circle and take it from them. The Chantry would see us all as universal threats if I did.”

Her hands fisted, nails digging into the meat of her palms. “Either you trust me to make the call, Alistair, or you don’t. And if you don’t, well, I guess I’ll just fuck off into the woods or something. You can’t work with someone you can’t trust, but templars will never trust mages.”

The silence was telling as the sun broke over the horizon, blushing the sky with its delicate light. She stared past him into the forest as she waited for his response, unable to watch his face. Ilya rose and gathered the discarded fur in her arms and walked past him toward the clearing.

“I’m not a templar,” Alistair finally said. “Surana, I - I don’t understand why you feel this way, and maybe I’ll come to learn why in time, but… I’m not a templar. And, I think of you as more than just a mage, you know.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and… and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you with this. I just, I just don’t know anymore, and I hoped that maybe you would. But maybe we’re both lost? Or something like that. I just…”

Ilya bowed her head at his confession. “Maybe,” she agreed quietly. She shook her head, strands of hair escaping from its tight braid.

Alistair stood behind her, an ex-templar and a warrior and a man bigger than her, who would always be bigger than her, and she wanted to cry because that’s how it would always be. She, an elven mage, would never know the strength he had, and would always have to fight for what little she had cobbled together - but maybe he’ll come to learn why in time, and as good as he wanted that to be, it would never be good enough.

She bit her lip at the tears that threatened to stream down her face. Ilya never did have great control over her emotions, a trait that made her and Jowan both fear the brand of Tranquility even more.

“Why Jowan, Surana?”

His words were soft behind her and she turned; in her distress she hadn’t heard him come closer, now less than an arm’s reach away. Ilya couldn’t stop the tears that ran at his earnest, hurt expression, or the instinctive steps backward she took at his closeness.

“Because it was kind, Alistair. I’d ask him to do the same for me, in his shoes,” she finally said, watching as her words registered on his face. Alistair broke their gaze and she turned back toward the camp to leave him among the trees.

#Alistair Theirin #Warden Surana #Surana #Dragon Age: Origins #DAO #Jowan #anti-circle #anti-chantry #soulrebel writes #fanfic #my fanfic #reblogs welcome and appreciated!

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storiesfromthedas · 3 years

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A Moment in Lothering

There was nothing but buzzing in Cassandra’s head as she tried to focus on the Templar in front of her, what was his name again, Ser Bryant? The darkspawn horde was on their way and this town had no hope of surviving what Cassandra had seen in Ostagar. All of these people needed to leave as soon as possible, but that didn’t matter much to Cassandra given what Ser Bryant had just told her. Everyone she knew until a month ago lived in that Tower and Ser Bryant just said that they were going to be killed without mercy. They may have never been kind to her, well other than Anders, Cullen, and Jowan up until the end, but they were all she knew. She was never going to live in the tower again but knowing it was there had been a comfort that she couldn’t lose. Not after everything else that had happened. She needed that anchor when nothing else made sense.

The rest of the conversation was a blur and it wasn’t until they stepped back into the late afternoon that Cassandra came back to herself. Alistair and Morrigan were bickering, as always, but to Cassandra, the whole world felt off its axis. Everything she knew, everyone she had ever known, could be gone right now. If not, they would be very soon. Part of her knew that was what could happen to all of Ferelden if her band of three didn’t defeat the Blight, but that was way too much to think about right now. It was so much bigger than she was. Right now, all she could think about was the fact that everyone from the First Enchanter to the young apprentices could have been cut down by Templar blades or being cut down right now.

“Where do you think we should travel next?” Alistair asked though it took Cassandra a moment to realize that he was talking to her. “I know that we have a few things to still do here, but once we leave the village we need a plan.”

“We’re going to go to the Tower of Magi to enlist the mage’s help,” Cassandra said, proud that her voice was steady and calm though the answer came a little too quickly. “They know me and it shouldn’t be hard to convince First Enchanter Irving to assist us, though Knight-Commander Gregor might grumble about it.”

“Truly, you believe that the Tower will pull on their leashes if the Chantry attempts to hold them back?” Morrigan sneered from two steps behind.

“We have the treaties,” Cassandra said, her voice frigid. Normally, Morrigan’s hatred of the Circle would not bother her, given that Cassandra knew Morrigan grew up in the Wilds. Her magic was formidable and Flemth didn’t strike Cassandra as the type to teach about the Maker saying that magic exists to serve man and never rule over him. As a matter of fact, she didn’t doubt that if Morrigan was a bit more socially-minded she would quickly start using her magic to rule over whoever she chose. However, Cassandra was not in the mood to debate or for her comments.

“Yes, the Chantry always listens to reason and political treaties that were long ago forgotten if not for Flemeth,” Morrigan continued.

Cassandra spun so quickly that her robes snapped in response. Both Alistair and Morrigan looked surprised, but one look at her expression and Alistair positioned himself between the two mages, his Templar training kicking in. Morrigan narrowed her eyes, fingers twitching slightly, but her golden eyes just stared back in defiance.

“You are with us because your mother sent you, however, I will not deal with you complaining and questioning my decisions at every turn,” Cassandra’s voice was cold and so controlled it was a threat. “Either you will do as I say or you will leave. Those are your choices.”

Morrigan clenched her jaw and for a moment Cassandra thought that Morrigan might actually leave. While she was fond of Alistair, she doubted just the two of them would be able to defeat this Blight. However, finally, she waved her hand and sighed “as you wish”.

Cassandra continued through town. The sooner they finished their business in Lothering, the quicker she could get back to the Circle. She just hopes that she was not too late, that there was something left for her to go back to. However, she had made commitments to this town and she would not shrink from them. Suddenly she felt very, very weary.

#My writing #fanfic #ficlet #dragon age origins

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daughter-of-the-prophet · 6 years

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Dragon Age: Origins (Sad Moments Part 1)

The Revenants of the Black Vials quest. Each of them was bound, with a little note accompanying them describing the demon's crimes. The hard part of those is who had to bind them: First: Cale Viazagat, revenant and perversion of an only son. Second: Nethamas Bigal, revenant and perversion of a fine daughter. Third: Argruth Massaad, revenant and perversion of a treasured mother. Fourth: Quametha Kagat, revenant and perversion of an honored father. Fifth: Shamas Goodson, revenant and perversion of a rare friendship. Sixth: Anton Wither, revenant and perversion of a friend not met.

- Their own friends and families had to stand up their (in each case it seems, mass-murdering) demon-possessed corpse, defeat it and bind it. The fifth is marked with only five thumbprints instead of six (and has a note about weakness and forgiveness instead of rage), implying that the revenant was himself one of the former hunters. The last one was even signed in blood by a child.

- The act of binding the Revenants was likely a CMOA however, considering how dangerous they are.

Ruck's situation, the poor guy. He's half-mad, knows he's crazy, and is adamant that Ilona not tell his mother about him.

Ruck: “Nonononono! No Filda! No mother! No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories! No, no, NO!”

And the topper? When Ilona tells Filda that Ruck is alive, Filda rushes off to the Deep Roads alone to find her son.

The death of Niall in the Fade.

Duncan's death at the Battle of Ostagar. He's left alone in the middle of the battlefield, fatally injured, cradling King Cailain's body with an expression of utter failure, clearly aware that Loghain has betrayed them, watching as the darkspawn overwhelm and slaughter anyone still left on the battlefield. His last act is to look up at the Tower of Ishal (where Ilona and Alistair are still holed up), with an expression of deepest regret for having seemingly led them both to their deaths, before looking around to see the darkspawn general and the rest of the horde make their final assault, unable to do more than stare down the charging darkspawn as the beast pulls back its axe for the deathblow, helped along by the incredibly Sad Battle Music playing at this point.

After Ilona convinces Zathrian to end the curse in the "Nature Of The Beast" quest, the subsequent cutscene is heartbreaking. It shows Zathrian surrounded by the werewolves he cursed, facing the Lady of the Forest, and the two sharing a long, emotional look. He slowly raises his staff, strikes it on the floor, and gets this peaceful, contented look on his face as he lets go of all his old hatred and rage before collapsing in death. The werewolves then crowd around their beloved Lady, reaching out to touch her one last time before the curse is lifted and she vanishes; you can tell that they truly did love her and are deeply saddened to see her leave them, even if it means they are free. Beautifully heartbreaking, and it's all conveyed by gesture and facial expressions.

Hespith's final speech before vanishing into the darkness: maybe it's because her Creepy Monotone starts to crack very slightly here, maybe it's because it's not established what she does afterwards (she has a choice between suicide and A Fate Worse Than Death), but it really is depressing:

Hespith: “But the true abomination... is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka... my love... The Stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death... Betrayal.”

- Listen closely and you can hear the sound of something falling to the ground after she leaves the frame.

- Also sad is that she feels nothing but guilt that she couldn't sway Branka from her madness.

Hespith: “I was her captain, and I did not stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her... but no, she cannot be forgiven.”

Ilona talking to Alistair about his time with the Grey Wardens. Alistair tells her that he really misses Duncan and wishes that he could have something to remember him by.

Ilona admitting to the Guardian of the Gauntlet that she blames herself for the death of her mother and father, believing they would still be alive if she had stayed and defended them to death. Her friends comfort her and tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

When the Guardian asks Sten if he feels he has failed his people by killing the family who saved him:

Sten: “I have never denied that I failed.”

Oghren's response to The Guardian is even more tear-inducing. Keep in mind that at this point Oghren has gone through the loss of his house, his caste, and even killing his own wife in self-defense. Despite all that he doesn't voice to the party anything beyond mild discontent. When The Guardian questions him, however, Oghren solidifies his Woobie status.

The Guardian: “Ah, the dwarf. You left your home and came to the surface, knowing that-”

Oghren: “Why don't I save you some time? Yes, I wish I could have saved my family from Branka. I wish I could have been a better mate; maybe she would have stayed home with a belly full of baby Oghren and never gone for the Anvil. Maybe I failed her. And yes, I came to the surface because I'm barely a dwarf anymore. My family is dead, my honor as a warrior long gone. I've lost my caste and my house, and I have nothing else to lose!”

Loghain's 'Daughters never grow up' speech to Anora just before Alistair executes him at the Landsmeet. No matter how much you hate him during the rest of the story, it's this moment that really shows his humanity and that, despite the huge evidence to the contrary, he genuinely cares for his daughter.

The first portion of the Gauntlet after answering the riddle posed by the spirit of Maferath, Andraste's mortal husband. It's the regret in his voice, particularly in the last sentence.

Maferath: “Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alammari... but beside her, I was nothing. Thousands fell before her on bended knee. They loved her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare to a god?”

A small one from Morrigan: After she tells Ilona about Flemeth, she asks the Warden about her own mother. When Ilona tells her that her mother died very recently Morrigan's face contorts somewhat sadly, and she offers her genuine sympathy.

Another one from Morrigan, when Ilona gives her the mirror. When Ilona tells her it's merely a gift and expects nothing in return, Morrigan is at a complete loss for words, while sounding like she's trying to hold back a river of tears.

During one conversation Morrigan tells Ilona how much she means to her as a friend, even regarding her as a sister. Then, when it comes time to part ways during the Battle of Denerim, she tells Ilona to live, long and gloriously.

Zevran's last mission before going after the Grey Wardens, along with his reasons for making the bid for the task of slaying the Wardens.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #sad moments #tear jerker

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arimabari · 6 years

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Questions 1-20 for Lula and Alistair

1. What drew your character to their LI and vice versa?

Lula wasn’t particularly drawn to Alistair until after Ostagar, when the two were given some time to know each other a little better. Lula hated Alistair at first, not because he was ever cruel to her, but because he was a male and a human - the disaster that was her wedding gave plenty of reason for her to not trust him.

That said, when Lula did finally get to know Alistair, she was drawn by his goofiness and his ability to smile and joke around even when she knew that he was suffering from the loss of Duncan. To laugh at the face of danger even when you’re terrified was something Lula admired greatly in Alistair because it was something she could never do. Plus she just thought he was funny and, despite constantly being a little ball of anger, Alistair is one of the few people who can actually make her laugh. Alistair is also the epitome of sincerity, which, given Lula’s mistrustful nature, was incredibly welcoming to her.

Alistair, on the other hand, was immediately drawn to Lula upon their first meeting. She was small, she was feisty, and she was determined - and even though she tried to kick his ass and chased him nearly all across Ostagar in a fit of rage, he couldn’t help but be drawn by how passionate she was about her feelings and how incredibly strong and fearless she was in battle. Her love for her people and her determination to protect the weak were also admirable qualities that made the man fall that much harder for her.

there’s a lot here so if anyone wants to keep reading it’s under the readmore

2. What was the first moment that they knew they were in love with their LI?

I imagine the moment Alistair realized he was falling for Lula was right before he gave her the rose from Lothering. He had sat down, taking some time to actually think about his feelings towards her and what they’ve been through together, and while he wouldn’t be ready to confess his love for her outright for a long, long while, he had accepted that he was completely, and utterly in love with this tiny elf long before Lula figured out her own feelings.

Meanwhile, it literally took Alistair’s love confession for Lula to realize that she was also in love with him, too. Lula had never been in love before and didn’t really know what to feel or expect, even when others in the camp tried to explain to her what she was feeling and that it was love. Plus, Lula didn’t believe that Alistair was in love with her no matter how many hints he dropped, thinking that the man was just being a really, really good friend. It never occurred to her that the rose and the flirting were all Alistair’s attempts at wooing her.

3. When they are having a fight, what is it about and how do they deal with it?

Lula and Alistair both have a tendency to fight out of miscommunication or Lula’s leadership decisions. They’re two young kids, both of whom had never been in a real relationship before, so they were bound to misunderstand each other. Lula would blow up at Alistair and blow everything out of proposition while Alistair stumbles to correct any misunderstandings but ultimately fails to find the words to make things right and starts to get angry and upset.

It usually takes someone dragging Lula away from camp so they both can cool off, and when things have settled Lula usually returns to camp and she and Alistair sit down and talk about their feelings clearly to one another until there’s no more misunderstandings. They reconcile pretty quickly, showering each other in affection and apologizing for making the other so upset.

They definitely fight less as the years go by once they’ve settled into being a married couple and understand each other a whole lot better.

4. Their favorite physical feature on each other?

Lula loves Alistair’s goofy smile even when she never admit it, always saying that she would punch that dumb smile off his face (which she never does). Instead she tries to smooch it off his face, which only makes him silly grin even bigger and makes Lula’s heart leap out of her chest.

I could argue that Alistair loves every inch of Lula, but to pick a favorite it would probably be the chubby belly Lula starts to gain while out on the road, having gone from a thinly stick of an elf to having a bit more fat and muscle on her body. Alistair’s just happy knowing that the love of his life is happy and healthy.

5. How do they comfort each other when they are sad?

Whenever Alistair is sad, whether it’s because of Duncan or thinking of the future or whatever, Lula always tries to reassure Alistair that things are going to get better, and if they don’t then Lula’s going to kick the shit out of anyone or anything that is making him so upset. She’s terrible with words, so all she can do is hug him and tell him that no matter what happens, they can fight it together.

Lula cries a lot, but it’s mostly out of anger. When she’s really, genuinely upset she tends to retreat into herself, hiding away out of shame because she believes she always has to be strong fearless at all times even when she’s not. When Alistair does find her curled up in a ball and crying, he’ll lift her into his arms and hold her tight, letting her vent out her feelings or just showering her in affection until she gets tired and falls asleep. Sometimes she just needs to be told that not everything is her fault, and that she doesn’t have to carry her burdens alone.

6. Who is the big spoon?

Alistair. He always has to be holding Lula close to him at all times when they’re asleep. Lula just likes the warmth and security that comes from being trapped in his bear arms.

7. Favorite date activity?

Whatever spare time they have together is usually spent on training together. Lula loves to get out the day’s frustrations by punching something or using her sword. Spending time together, learning each other’s movements and helping to make the other into a better, stronger warrior is Lula’s favorite way to bond with her lover.

Alistair, meanwhile, just enjoys sitting and relaxing with Lula, whether it’s by the campfire or on a hilltop admiring the sunset or the stars. Sitting in silence, taking in the fresh air and the nice view and just being in each other’s company is enough for him.

On super, special occasions, Lula and Alistair go cheese tasting in Denerim.

8. What are their most prominent memories of each other?

Alistair’s memories always take him back to Lothering, back when he and Lula were still getting used to each other. He got to see the best and worst parts of Lula - the one that helped poor, elven families and the one that picked fights with humans who glanced in her direction. The one who wanted to help and to hurt. She was beautiful - but sharp. A blooming flower that caused harm to those that tried to get close to her. Just like a rose.

Two more powerful memories he has of her are the times when he is the most proud of her, such as her duel with Teyrn Loghain and when she strikes the final blow against the Archdemon. With the latter, the memory of the love of his life, standing and covered in the blood of the dragon, grinning and breathing and alive, is a memory that is burned into his brain forever.

Lula doesn’t have to many memories of Alistair that stick out in her mind except for three - when they first met, when they shared their first kiss, and when they said their final goodbyes in Denerim during the final battle. Three moments that changed Lula’s life, for better or for worse. They were the moment when Lula felt the most passionate in her emotions, from boiling hatred, to love, to fear and loss. Even though Lula and Alistair both came out of Denerim alive after the fight with the Archdemon, Lula poured her heart out to Alistair as if they truly were going to die - and she didn’t want him to forget how truly, deeply she loved him.

And if there were memories they shared together, it would probably be the first time they shared a bed, their wedding day, and eventually the birth of their daughter, Addy.

9. How open are they with their feelings?

Lula is very, very open about how she’s feeling unless she’s embarrassed or ashamed by a certain feeling (like being extremely sad and upset to the point of tears or romantic affection) in which case she’ll try to hide those feelings from others. With everything else, Lula’s not someone who’s afraid to express her mind even if it gets her in trouble.

Alistair is pretty open about how he feels, knowing it best to not try and lock things up even if he doesn’t always practice what he preaches. Lula does a very good job of getting him to open up about his feelings when he’s upset, but he’s also someone who isn’t afraid to express his mind, just like Lula.

Together, they could gather an angry mob that would chase them out of town because they both said the wrong, wrong thing, whether intentionally or not.

10. Do they have pet names for each other?

Lula hates pet names and will never use them. Alistair has hundreds that he calls her just to get a reaction out of her (usually blinding anger), but will usually settle for “my dear” and “my love” which Lula doesn’t really mind. He once tried to use “Lulu” a nickname given to her by her best friend, Kieran, but that just resulted in him getting punched in the arm.

11. Do they have any inside jokes?

Put on a dress and dance the Remigold, Alistair. The two joke about it constantly and no one gets it but them. (Lula’s probably made him actually do it too.)

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

Lula and Alistair both want to stop the blight, and that’s about where the similarity in their goals end. The couple doesn’t clash too much in regards to how this gets done, with the exception of how the situation with Connor was handled, and when they do clash they usually fight about it until they make up, and come out of the fight understanding one another a little better than they did before.

Lula also has other goals, such as fighting for better treatment of elves, of which Alistair is completely supportive of her and her endeavors. Alistair also wants to rebuild the wardens, which is something Lula wants as well but not to the extent that he does.

13. How do they react at being away from each other?

It was completely torture for the two of them to go from being at each other’s side at all times to rarely seeing each other, what with Lula staying behind to rebuild the Wardens while Alistair was either at Weisshaupt or searching for his father, and even worse when Lula goes off to seek the cure for the Calling and Alistair staying behind to take care of the Wardens.

Being apart for long periods of time is something they’ve both had to get comfortable with, whether they like it or not, but they’re always sending letters to one another, and they’re both ready to settle down and remain together once the cure is finally found.

14. Is their anything they associate with each other?

Alistair associates Lula with the rose he plucked from Lothering as mentioned before, as well as the sun - hot and angry, but bringing life into the world instead of destroying it.

Lula associates Alistair with a puppy: A big, slobbering, lovable dog that never leaves her alone.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

Both Alistair and Lula have their own self-doubts and perceived weaknesses that the other doesn’t see. Lula has crippling self-loathing over her failures to protect the ones she loves (Kieran from the Circle, her mother from death, Shianni from Vaughan, etc.). She believes herself weaker, more powerless than she actually is - Alistair, meanwhile, views her as the strongest, most powerful person he’s ever known, and reminds her that she can’t constantly carry the world on her shoulders and that something terrible happening as the result of evil is not her fault.

Alistair, meanwhile, has his survivor’s guilt and his belief to be inferior to someone like Lula. She’s a leader, strong-willed and courageous: someone Duncan would have been proud of. Alistair prefers being on the sidelines, out of the limelight and following in Lula’s shadow and his survivor’s guilt makes him believe that he should have stayed and died with the rest of the Grey Wardens, with Duncan - Lula, meanwhile, firmly believes that no good would have come from Alistair remaining in Ostagar to die, that he’s useful and has so much potential to be a great warrior and a great leader if he tried. She believes in him far more than he believes in himself.

16. Jealous at all?

Lula absolutely gets jealous and will voice her jealousy outright. Though, her jealousy is also quickly resolved as a result, since Alistair usually showers her in affection and love when she lets him know how she’s feeling. Alistair gets jealous as well, especially when Lula starts to make more male friends during her time in Vigil’s Keep, but since Lula often loudly proclaims her love and devotion to her husband, it usually washes away his jealousy.

And as the years go by, the two hardly feel much jealousy at all, both comfortable in knowing that their lover would never betray them or abandon them for someone else.

17. Their ways of expressing their love.

Lula’s favorite method is usually words, loudly and proudly proclaiming to the world that, yes, Alistair Theirin is hers and, no, she isn’t planning to share. She also likes to leave him little gifts in secret where he can easily find them without the awkwardness of trying to give him something and explain why she’s giving it to him.

Alistair, meanwhile, has a better time expressing his love with gestures - holding Lula’s hand, kissing her on the lips or the neck or the ears or by giving her gifts upfront (as opposed to Lula who again, likes to use stealth to give gifts to him).

The best way they show their love, however, is by the both of them showing support for one another, and reminding each other that they are never alone, and that they are loved.

18. Is their any way they disappoint each other?

Lula and Alistair have both absolutely disappointed each other in the past. Lula’s been disappointed with Alistair’s lack of backbone when he’s being treated unfairly and outright angry when he tries to place duty above all else. She also gets disappointed when Alistair expresses doubt in her decision making skills, wanting him to trust that what she’s doing is what’s best for everyone.

On the other hand, Alistair’s been pretty disappointed in the way Lula treats others who never intentionally tried to harm her, and with how she’ll do things or make decisions irrationally without thinking of the consequences that are bound to occur later on.

19. Describe how they communicate

Words? I don’t really get this one. Lula communicates with emotions and speaks her mind and Alistair usually does the same, though not with the level of fervor that Lula does. In terms of tone, Lula usually speaks more softly and with a little more care to Alistair than she does anyone else, and Alistair does the same.

20. Did either person change at all, to be with their partner?

Neither really changed to be with their partner so much as they changed as a result of being with their partner. Lula learns to calm down during moments of stress, taking time to think about her words rather than outright blurting them out and causing trouble, and just generally having better control of her temper and being more kind and understanding to others.

Alistair grows a little stronger by being with Lula, becoming less of a doormat and more of someone who speaks his mind and puts his foot down whenever someone crosses a line or tries to speak down to him.

Ultimately, both do become better people as a result of being together and grow as individuals in ways they wouldn’t have if they didn’t have the other to show them the way.

anyways thank you Andy for the twenty questions I could use an excuse to rave about Lula and Alistair any day.

Romance Asks

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Origins #Alistair Theirin #Lulafey Tabris #Alistair x tabris #littlefvre #long post #art

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spiringempress · 6 years

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Inquisitor’s Inquiries

I’ve started publishing my fanfiction on archive of our own and this is the first of many hopefully. This is the first chapter of Inquisitor’s Inquiries: Broken Circle about Cullen and my inquisitor, Valaena. Read below for the whole story.

Happily ensnared in the arms of her commander, Valaena was without a doubt wide-awake. It was probably due to the fact that once again, the two had tumbled into his bed within the lofty tower in Skyhold and every few seconds a cold breeze brushed over her skin and sent goosebumps down her spine. As a result, Valaena squirmed closer to Cullen and found that the sensation of his breath, which tickled the nape of her neck, also kept her awake. Often, Valaena found herself within this predicament; unable to sleep and consequently, her mind wandered replaying bits of conversation between her and Cullen. Usually during these moments, she attempted to pinpoint the meaning behind his bumbled sentences. Perhaps more fortuitously, she found sleepy Cullen less guarded and more willing to answer some of her inquiries without his usual reluctance.

Valaena was stroking his hand, tracing his calluses and various scars that marred his skin when a conversation bubbled to mind. It had been after their first kiss and Valaena had found herself concerned about her family's reaction to Cullen. More so, his reaction to her family's snide comments about her choice and whether she could have chosen someone with a better pedigree. Her family like any other noble family was proud and fond of political advantages. However, it was not his response to her family that interested her, but something else he said during their conversation

"Cullen," she murmured, receiving a drowsy grunt in reply. "Do you remember after we first kissed - you said something about wanting to do that for longer than you should admit? Exactly how long?

Valaena was greeted by silence. Typical. He was either ignoring her or had finally fallen asleep and somehow wouldn't remember her inquiry; whichever one would not reward her with any answers. She signed and closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the mattress and Cullen's grasp. However before she could fully relax, her back was suddenly greeted with coolness as the warmth of Cullen disappeared. Wide- awake once more, Valaena sat up and looked over at him. He was sitting up and running his hands through his tousled hair. Alarmed, Valaena reached over to him and wondered if he was worried about her family again. She remembered after the initial conversation, Cullen had burst into her chambers and wanted to know her mother's favorite flowers, her father's opinion of the templars and the name of her brother.

"Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?" she asked, reaching out and stroking his arm.

Cullen shook his head while looking at the inquisitor. His amber-gold eyes filled with apprehension before he diverted his gaze and began to rub the back of his neck nervously.

"It's rather embarrassing. Of course, most matters are to me anyways," he stammered, refusing to meet her eyes. "Of course, I'd wanted to kiss you for a long time. Perhaps from the moment we met, but in truth it was not for..."

His voice trailed off and Valaena became positively confused. At this point in their relationship, Cullen should not have been embarrassed to reveal this information. Especially when she had already confessed her early attraction to him on the battlements of Haven. And more so because he had seen Valaena at her worst. There had been nights when she had been racked with anxiety about the upcoming battle and other nights when Iron Bull had drank her under the table.

Valaena grasped his hand and squeezed. This seemed to calm him and without looking at her, Cullen took a slow breath and squeezed back.

"This probably won't come out right, so if you want to leave I understand. I wanted to kiss you from the moment we met," he said in a low voice, "but it was not for the normal reasons... It's just when we met you reminded me of someone I met a long time ago in a broken tower when I was a different man... a very scared young man to be more specific."

Valaena did not take her eyes off of Cullen. She tried to take advantage of his pause and capture his gaze, but he adamantly refused her. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Never before had she elicited such a response from him. Normally, he gave a vague answer or snored in reply. She pursed her lips and waited for him to continue.

"I know we've talked or I've talked about the events that transpired in the tower and Kirkwall and well... my hatred and fear of mages, as well as, some of the things that I wanted to do to prevent what happened from ever happening again, but what I didn't mention was that she was there," he said, suddenly looking at Valaena, "The Hero of Ferelden, although, she wasn't known by title yet. She was simply a grey warden. There were a lot of horrible things that transpired in the tower, but she walked through the despair and blood as if she was invincible," he paused, lost in his memories, "I thought she was an illusion and when I finally realized she was real. She became the most beautiful sight I had ever seen."

Valaena raised an eyebrow and withdrew her hand from his.

"At the time," added Cullen hastily, eyeing her carefully before continuing, "I was nineteen and the only girls I knew were my sisters. Maker's breath, I knew I should have never told you this story it was bound only to make you upset."

Still wary, Valaena reached out and brushed his hair into place regarding him with caution. "Finish your story. Perhaps, you can still salvage my wounded pride."

Before she could react, Cullen grasped her hand and kissed it. "I don't know if you've ever seen the Hero of Ferelden," he said in a low voice, raising his eyebrow, "but she has red hair swept back into two buns and a great sword swung across her back. She also has a way of talking to people, where she tried to understand the other person's point of view. She never dismissed anyone or their beliefs. So when she found me in the tower, she tried to help me see beyond my fear. After, I was awe of her - I couldn't help but develop a crush on her. You may cite looks, but it was her ability to see me at my weakest and still treat me as a human. I may have stalked her a little and asked for any news of her exploits afterward," Cullen said sheepishly, "shortly, I learned she stood up for those, who were defenseless, those mistreated and threw herself into battle without any consideration for her own safety. Eventually when she killed the archdemon and became queen, I saw her again when King Alistair presided over the decision for the Ferelden circle. Of course, I attended because I experienced it first hand and she came up to ask how I was - I still regret my answer. I was still angry and scared, but she nodded and told me I had nothing to fear. Even though, she did not make the final decision or the one that I wanted, her council was wise and considered both the mages and templars.”

Cullen paused and looked at Valaena. “It’s easy to stand by one side and ignore the other. It takes great courage to stand between two warring groups and unite them under a common goal. And Faelan was able to accomplish that. It took me many years to realize that I had acted like a complete fool. That I had persecuted innocent people and let fear cloud my judgment. I always thought about Faelan and how she must see me as that hateful boy in the tower. I took this position because I wanted to do something right - to put aside differences and protect as many people as I could. When I saw you, you took my breath away. Yes, you may remind me of the Hero of Ferelden but you are so much more," Cullen paused and pressed her hand to his chest, " I saw her in you when we were in Haven because you were scared, but fearless and because you have the same compassion and the ability to see the person beneath all the politics, rumors and fears. You believe in fairness and in your friends' judgment, even if they have made questionable choices. And I thought to myself, 'Cullen, this is your second chance. You weren't for Faelan, but you could be a man worthy for this fiery haired maiden.' Maker, I sound ridiculous," muttered Cullen, looking away before returning Valaena's gaze, "but you are my second chance to be a better man, to be a good one."

After he finished, Cullen continued to hold her hand near his heart. Valaena fixed him with a stare. “So, what I’ve learn is that I’m second best and if King Alistair hadn’t already swept Faelan Cousland off her feet – you would be by her side?”

“No,” said Cullen firmly. “Don’t you see? Without her, there would be no Cullen to serve at your side. I would either be dead or off killing mages – the latter probably earning your attention-“

“Cullen,” interrupted Valaena gently. “I am only teasing you. Not that I haven’t thought about killing an archdemon to get your attention… I know, you have struggled with your past, but you are a good man. One worthy of this inquisition and of a certain fiery haired maiden,” she paused deviously, “You know once we found her-

Quickly, Cullen attacked and tickled her sides until she was breathless with laughter and smothered in kisses. “I would prefer the attention of a different red haired maiden,” said Cullen, burying his face into her shoulder to avoid eye contact.

“Well, this fiery haired maiden prefers her commander to be more like King Alistair,” stated Valaena, holding up her fingers to count off, “Devilishly handsome, loyal without question, speaks of his undying devotion to random inquisitors and oh, secretly heir to the throne of Ferelden. Maybe now, should be the time I tell you about my-

Cullen silenced her with a kiss before pulling away and fixing her with a stare. “Not if I have a say in it,” he paused once more, “I have never felt this way before. You make my days brighter and now, there’s hope for what happens after. So whatever happens next, I’m glad I served this inquisition and became a man that somehow deserved you.”

Valaena leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled her closer to him, settling into the nook of her neck and afterwards, they stayed in that embrace for the rest of the night. As her eyes drifted closed, Valaena thought that sometimes her inquiries resulted in the answers she needed to hear.

#cullen rutherford #cullen rutherford x female inquisitor #cullen rutherford x female trevelyan #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfic #alistair theirin #female warden #dragon age fanfiction

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jonogueira · 7 years

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Áine.

Here’s the AO3 and the link to Moon Hair e Fire Eyes. I was listening to this while writing.

Chapter 6

New Beginnings - Old and New Scars.

Áine had to move. Kinloch Hold was her home once, not anymore. Too many bad memories, memories that kept her awake at night, memories that made her wake up screaming, memories that gave her panic attacks, memories that she could feel on her fingertips: old scars.

She begged First Enchanter Irving to be transferred for more than a year after the events in the tower. Every night that she couldn’t sleep or woke up screaming, every time she walked near that damned room, every time she couldn’t hold a panic attack, she went to his chambers and begged.

And here she was at The Gallows, and she was terrified. Things here were different from Kinloch. The mages were always afraid, there was always the threat of tranquility. She had never seen so many tranquils in one place. What was wrong with those people? Still, it was a fresh start, a new beginning.

After the tower was saved, the Warden decided not to use the Rite of Annulment, and the tower once again fell under the management of Irving and Greagoir. Many of the templars were not satisfied with the result, but they complied and Cullen was among them.

Cullen was a difficult subject, she rarely talked or was in the same room as him. After she moved she tried as hard as she could not to think about the man, but it was impossible, she still loved him, with her soul and body.

When the Warden defeated the Archdemon, and the Blight ended, she decided to write to the Warden and thank her, Alistair and Leliana for rescuing her, but she never really expected to receive an answer from them.

It was through her letter that she knew they got married and were Queen and King. They had been through a lot and deserved happiness. Their friendship grew, and they would often write to each other. The fact that she moved to The Gallows made things a bit more difficult, but there was a templar who would smuggle letters outside the circle, and they could continue exchanging letters, not so often anymore, but still, they were friends.

Having friends, meant having things to care about, things to lose. She didn’t want to talk to people, and the thought of having a friend again was heavy on her mind, after all, she had left her friend, or rather sister, back in Kinloch.

It was not easy to leave Amell behind, but she needed for her own sake. The way she viewed, she had 2 options: leave or become tranquil. Obviously, the latter was out of the question. As much as she wanted to get rid of those terrible memories, she cherished her life more. Opting to become tranquil was, to her, similar to giving up on life. There was a lot in life bigger than her fears: smiles, laughter, joy, love…

“Urgh!”– She shook her head reprimanding herself for thinking about him. – “Maker, please!” – She threw the book on her bed and turned to leave, but was stopped by Nina, her roommate.

“Difficult reading?” – The woman asked sitting by her side.

Nina was a talkative mage, always smiling, laughing and gossiping. Áine liked her, she was fun to be around.

“Not really, just can’t concentrate.”

“Ghosts from the past?”

“Definitely, but only one.” – She sighed and ran her finger through her hair.

“Only one? I see… Are you finally gonna tell me who he is?” – Nina tucked a curl behind Áine’s ear.

Áine liked her, but she didn’t want a friend, she couldn’t… She never told Nina or anyone about what happened to her, including Amell, just that she came from Kinloch and what happened there. There wasn’t a reason not to… people already knew it, so better tell the truth than creating stories.

“Sorry Nina, I…”

“Is he at least alive? Was he a mage or a templar? The way you act it makes me think he was a templar, of significant rank by all the secrecy… It doesn’t matter, you know I’ll understand if that’s the case!” – The mage pleaded with her eyes.

It was true. If anyone would understand it would be her. She was in love with a templar, she was actually in an intimate relationship with him. Áine was happy for her, at least Nina was an example that love could flourish between templars and mages.

Áine pondered if she should tell Nina about Cullen, but a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Who is it?” – Asked Nina.

“It’s me, Paul.”

Nina’s eyes sparkled, she stood up and ran to the door like a child in Satinalia. She stopped and rearranged herself before opening the door. The templar came in and grabbed her in his arms planting a rather lustful kiss on her lips, which made Áine blush furiously.

“Hey, Paul! Stop! We are not alone…” – She said between giggles.

“Oh, I’m sorry! How are you today Áine?” – He looked at her but didn’t let Nina go.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking. I have to… hum… return this book, it will take a while so... hum… make yourself comfortable?” – The redness of her cheeks and intonation made the couple laugh.

“Thanks! Oh! I hope we can finish our talk later, I’m very curious to know the name of your sweet templar.” – Nina said while holding Paul and planting kisses on his face.

Áine tripped on her way to the door and heard Paul about this templar story before she closed the door behind her. She would definitely not tell her about Cullen.

She was still leaning against the door when she heard a familiar voice in the distance.

“Knight-Commander some of the templars…”

“Cullen.”– She tensed and started breathing heavily.

Fuck! She was paralyzed, she didn’t know Cullen had been transferred there too. She thought the Maker was punishing her for not being able to endure staying back in Kinloch, he was punishing her with the one thing that terrified her the most. Yes, terrified. She loved him, she wanted him, she needed him. Him, Cullen, the young templar with kind eyes, easy laughter, with a smile that touched her soul. The young templar that loved reading, playing chess and chatting with the mages freely not warily, who saw mages as people, not demons.

How many nights had she dreamed about him? Dreamed that she was comforting him after the events in the tower. Running her fingers through his hair, letting the tips of her fingers wander his jawline and stop at his lips, just to hear him shouting “rite of annulment,” feel him grabbing her arm with one hand and unsheathing his sword with the other. For more nights than she could count, she woke up screaming his name. She felt luck was by her side, because every time she woke up screaming his name, no one was around, but apparently, she was running out of it.

Not knowing why, she felt the need to run and hide; her body was tense, she felt the muscles in her legs and arms getting ready to flee. They were almost in her field of vision, talking about something her brain was incapable of absorbing when she felt her legs’ muscle contract, and she started walking in the opposite direction.

Wanting to go unnoticed she kept her head down, and that was stupid, she was living in The Gallows for more than two years now, but she didn’t know anybody besides Nina, she bet no one knew or cared about her either, but the fear of being seen by Cullen was bigger.

She had been walking for a few minutes before she realized she was heading to the templar’s training yard. The presence of the Qunari in Kirkwall had a direct effect on the templar routine, they were training more and longer than before.

Áine stopped to watch them, they seemed tired and frustrated, some recruits had a hint of fear on them. Something was up, but Áine didn’t know what, she really didn’t want to know about what was happening outside the circle, not because she didn’t care, but because she was trying to shield herself from more things that could hurt her.

Amell used to say that she was like a sponge, absorbing all the emotions around her, more than once, well, a lot more than once, Amell would call her a crying baby, she would say Áine was a big receptor of emotions because she would be happy when people were happy, sad when people were sad and so on, but especially because she could feel more than others.

It was there lost in thought that she heard a scream. A recruit was injured, and there was a lot of blood. The senior templar was carrying him towards the healers when he spotted Áine and came running to her, the healers were far, and the recruit wouldn’t have time to spare.

She asked him to lay the recruit on the floor and immediately started pouring magic on his wound. It looked bad, really bad. The sword had entered near his navel and went all the way through, exiting his right side. Deep down she knew he wouldn’t survive, but she had to try anyway. The senior templar had gone to look for more help, leaving her there alone, bloodied and with what would become a corpse in a few seconds.

A couple of minutes later she heard fast and heavy footsteps coming her way, and she prayed it was the senior templar, she knew if it weren't him, that scene would be almost impossible to explain.

If she thought she was running out of luck, she knew now it had run dry a long time ago, Cullen turned the corner of the building and the expression on his face…

“You, mage!” – His face was contorted in anger.

Áine stood up very slowly, her fear was so great she could hear the blood pumping in her ears, she held her hands high in a non-threatening stance. Cullen’s grip on the sword was so tight, she could see his hand shaking.

“Step away from him blood mage. I have seen too much to know how this ends.” – He approached her with his finger curled on the sword hilt.

He was coming closer, and with every step he took, Áine studied him. He seemed so old, so tired. The curls that used to hang on his head were cut short, he had dark circles around his eyes, there was no more kindness there… just something else she wasn’t sure. Hatred? Fear? It didn’t matter, whatever it was it was not kindness.

“Cullen, please listen. This is not what it looks like.” – She tried reasoning when he raised his sword to her face.

Cullen stopped watching, studying, never lowering his sword. It was close to her face; she could feel the coldness of the steel on her chin.

“Do I know you? You seem familiar.” – With narrow eyes he searched her face.

She didn’t blame him, she had changed in the last 3 years, she was a 16-year-old child, now she was a 19-year-old woman. She had a full form, her body had grown in all the right places, she had cut her hair as well, now she had it short, her raven curls barely touched her shoulders.

“It’s me Áine, from Kinloch.” – Her voice a whisper.

“Áine? What are you doing?” – His hands were shaking – “A blood mage? Why Áine? I had hoped…” – There was disappointment in his eyes.

“No Cullen, I’m not…”

“She’s here!” – The words startled Cullen that made an arc with his sword when he turned to see who was approaching.

“She’s here. I hope she was able to save him.” – The senior templar told to the other healers.

“Save, him?” – There was doubt in Cullen’s words. He turned to look at her, and there was shock on his face.

Áine was standing with her hands high, her eyes shut; she felt pain above her jawline, there was blood on her face. When she opened her eyes she saw Cullen looking down at his sword, there was blood on it too.

The other templars kneeled beside the recruit’s body just to tell her what she already knew, he was dead.

“I tried…” – Áine said at the same time Cullen apologized. – “I’m sorry…”

“Knight-Captain I’m sorry. He suffered an accident during training, and I’ve seen her around with the healers, I hoped she could help, so I let her here with him while I went to get more help, I knew the lad was in bad shape, but I couldn’t… I had to…”

“It’s alright, you all did what you could. Now please take him from here and make sure his family is notified and well treated.” – He sheathed his sword.

Áine watched the way Cullen spoke to the others; the way he relaxed his shoulder, rubbed his neck and took a deep breath.

“Maker Áine! Put your hands down. I’ve cut you, can you heal it?”

“Yes, of course.” – She nodded.

She placed her left hand on the right side of her face and started pouring magic into it. She felt the pain subsiding until all she could feel was a tingling sensation, but she knew it would become a scar. She never had to heal herself, she wasn’t quite sure how to do it, all she could do was pray for the better, but as it seemed with her luck… In the meanwhile, Cullen watched her, he was standing there until she was finished.

“Done. But I should see a proper healer now.” – She cleaned her hands on her robes.

She was aware that there was blood on her clothes and hair, but when Cullen approached and touched her cheeks… She instantly remembered the first time he had touched her, right after Aiden left the room all those years back, and the memory of Aiden brought tears to her eyes, and she felt her face redden with rage.

“I am so sorry Áine, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright Cullen. I should go.”

Áine turned and started walking at a fast pace, she didn’t want Cullen to see her crying, to see the rage in her eyes. Somehow, she knew he was standing there watching her leave.

Thank you for reading!

#áine #aine #cullen rutherford #chapter 6 #new beginning - old and new scars #new beginnings #old new #scar

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all-things-andrew-scott · 7 years

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Okay. I am grossly overdue for telling you about my adventures at the Sherlock convention. If you don't care, of course, feel free to move along. But for anyone that does care, do read ahead.

Friday: Friday morning was spent in Hollywood. I was emotional as soon as we set foot out of the Lyft ride and actually cried tears while standing on Hollywood Blvd. Visiting Hollywood was something that I had always dreamed of since I was a child. For me to be able to make that dream come true… I can't even put into words how amazing it felt. Naturally, we stopped in a souvenir shop. There, I looked through a rack of souvenir keychains that were designed to look like stars on the Walk of Fame. They were black squares with pink Stars just like the real thing. I found one with Andrew's name on it and immediately knew that we had to get it to him. after all, he truly does deserve a star on the Walk of Fame for his incredible talent. When the time came, we made our way to the Marriott for registration. The rest of Friday was relatively uneventful. The four of us did have our photo taken in front of the aquarium bench and backdrop inspired by The Six Thatchers (The bench was actually the real one used in the show). We were also fortunate enough to be able to have our photo taken on the screen-used living room set of 221B. To our surprise, those chairs are actually extremely narrow. Sherlock's chair is just as squishy and comfortable as it looks. The night ended with the Chinese Circus-themed party which just ended up being a dance but was actually kind of cool. We did try to check out karaoke but they kept the lights on and it just kind of over all sucked. So we skipped out on that in favor of food and sleep. Saturday: Saturday morning I'll admit that I cried during the opening ceremony just from actually seeing Andrew Scott up on the stage and processing the fact that he's a very real person. I did bid to try and get into his meet and greet but unfortunately I lost. I was pretty visibly upset by this fact considering my emotional attachment to him and the fact that he was the reason that I attended the convention. However, this did not stop Blue Hair Girl from bragging about the meet-and-greet and shoving her selfie with him in my face. I ended up using the money that I bid on the meet and greet with to purchase a second autograph with Andrew (so that I could still have him sign my DVD even though I planned on having him design my tattoo) and a photograph with Jonathan Aris. Poor Jonathan got no love from any fans all weekend. Every time I saw his autograph table it was nearly empty or the line was extremely short. because of that, I did ask if I could go up and speak to him. The staff obliged and he was so sweet. That's what made me decide to buy the photograph with him. I got Steven Moffat’s autograph first. I wasn't sure what to think but he was actually very nice. I followed that up with Arwel’s autograph and he was also very nice. Unfortunately, the lunch break we were on ran a bit late so we just caught the end of Jonathan and Alistair's panel. But from what I did get to see it was very enjoyable. I can say that I absolutely loved Una, Wanda and Tim's panel. The three of them together were just a scream. Poor Tim could barely get a word in edgewise. But it was a delight to hear Tim and Wanda share stories about Benedict. I did have a mild freak-out prior to Andrew’s photograph because it was the first time I was actually getting to meet him. Immediately after, I walked off until wait for my photo to print and I collapsed against the back wall and just sobbed. Luckily, the anxiety part of my brain always seems to work no matter what so I skedaddled from the room before we could get yelled at for lingering. Naturally, I absolutely ADORED Andrew’s panel. He was so funny and it’s completely adorable how fidgety he is. Saturday Night: The drinks reception was, by far, the highlight of the weekend. An old lady kept yelling at us while we were waiting in the hallway even though we weren't being very loud and it was only 7pm. There were about 10 of us per table. I'll tell you that two glasses of white wine loosened me up and made me more talkative than I otherwise would have been. We started with Alistair and I found out that he's absolutely marvelous. He completely understood what fandom means to us all and why we were there. He was so funny and engaging. He told us he had a party to attend after and in said “So you're just pregaming then?” His reply: “...Yeah. Pretty much.” Next, we had Arwel Wyn-Jones but that was a bit awkward as no one seemed to know what to really say. He was still lovely despite that. Sue Vertue is an absolutely fantastic woman. The kind you'd like to grab lunch with. She was very engaging and it was a joy to laugh with her. Once again, Moffat was a pleasant surprise. He was very nice to all of us. We accidentally got him on an anti-Trump/anti-Brexit/anti-hatred/pro-kindness tangent. It's clear he's a very passionate man and he earned so much of my respect that night. Also, he refers to Trump as “that orange toad across the pond”. Finally, we finished the drinks reception with my darling Andrew. He lit up when we gave him the keychain and he loved it. Someone asked if he was going to the same party as Alistair. He didn't even know Alistair was going to a party and jokingly mumbled “fuck him”. He made a lot of eye contact with me and I think I earned brownie points by mentioning John Butler (director and Andrew’s friend) and some of Andrew’s other work. He got bashful when I told him his performances in those other things were wonderful. We talked a little bit about music and karaoke and it turns out that he loves Katy Perry and P!nk. We also chatted about Hamlet. I mentioned it is my favourite Shakespearean work and he immediately said “Did you see Benedict’s?!” He mentioned that the fans’ request was heard and they're filming his run as Hamlet. He apologized for his photo session being “impersonal” and “on factory settings”. He was certain that he must look terrible in every single photo. I assured him that he didn't and showed him how ours came out and he loved it. When it was over, he blew the whole table a kiss. I said, “Thank you so much. We love you.” His reply: “I love you guys too”. It was such an honor and pleasure to laugh with him. Overall, I was glad conversation flowed so easily with each guest. Despite only having about six minutes with each guest, it felt like really connecting and was well worth the money. Andrew abandoned his glass water. Someone pointed it out to me and I drank it. We all laughed about it. Except one girl called it disgusting. I don't see why. It was perfectly good water. Andrew is not a dirty person. The other nine of us laughed about it. It was harmless. I've known someone to do worse. Something far more disgusting and creepy. As a side note: I'm completely in love with his full body laugh and his eye crinkles. After, I ran into Moffat while waiting for the elevators. I accidentally called him “Moffat” to his face. I told him how much respect I gained for him during the drinks reception and he thanked me. I told him I wouldn't fall victim to the lies and bullshit about him spread on the internet anymore. He also called the elevators “lifts” then apologized and corrected himself. I said “No no no. I'm American but I watch plenty of British TV to know what Lifts are. Doctor Who, Sherlock, League of Gentlemen, Little Britain…” Turns out he also likes Little Britain. Sunday: Again, relatively uneventful. I spent a lot of time talking to fellow fans. I did get Sue Vertue’s autograph; she was just as sweet as she was the night before. When it was time to get my photo with Mark Gatiss, I was bouncing with excitement. I've been a fan of his since I started watching Doctor Who in 2011. He's a phenomenal writer and a big part of the reason I fell back in love with writing. Again, I spent a large part of my day talking to fellow fans. When it came time for my photo on set with Andrew, I was still nervous but a little more comfortable because of the drinks reception the night before. He called me “lovely” which he seems to do to a lot of his female fans (particularly the plus-sized ones) but I don't care because that doesn't make it any less genuine. He saw me carrying Furiarty (puppy I made at Build-A-Bear Workshop that I modeled after Moriarty) and he went “Who’s this?” as he gently took him from me and stroked his head. I explained and he looked at me with total awe. I sat beside him in John's chair (he was perched on the arm) and Andrew fiddled with Furiarty’s suit. I asked if the three of us could cuddle and we did. Everywhere we could be touching, we were. It was magical. Afterward, I immediately went across the hall to get my photo with Jonathan Aris. I stepped up, chatted with him a bit, and put my arms around him. Unfortunately, the photographer was not ready yet so we ended up awkwardly cuddling in a standing position for a moment before the photographer told us that it would be a moment before he was ready. We pulled away and chatted a bit more. He's a sweet guy. There was a brief, minor issue with the printer so I had to wait a little bit longer for my photo to print. But unlike Creation Entertainment they didn't try to rush me out of the photo op room. It's also nice that the photos print out immediately and you don't have to go digging for them later. Finally, it was time to get my autograph from Andrew. Unfortunately, his line was so long that we didn't have much time for a proper chat. I did, however, present him with his large container of Ferrero Rocher chocolates, the Moriarty coloring page that I completed for him from my Sherlock coloring book, and the card with the letter in it that I wrote. He was completely surprised by the large container of chocolates, and he absolutely loved the coloring page. He signed the DVD cover of my copy of Dead Bodies, which has to be one of my top 3 favourite projects of his (so far). I gave him the blank piece of paper I brought and briefly explained to him why I wanted the tattoo and what I wanted him to do. All I said was “Could you please write something brief and positive and sign it that I could get tattooed later?” it was his choice to draw the waves with a heart. He called them “air waves”, but he was so rushed I think he meant positive waves. regardless, I thanked him profusely and walked away only to grossly sob over how much it meant to me. The final event was The Great Sherlocked Game Show. An absolutely genius idea, I think it showed how much fun the guests and the fans were having with each other. There is a lot to be said when the entire room of people is laughing together. You could really tell that the guests were having a great time. The final afterparty was Moriarty’s Pool Party. I unfortunately forgot my bathing suit at our hotel (separate from the convention hotel and cheaper) so I couldn't get in the hot tub. It was too cold to get in the pool. Samantha and I enjoyed free wine and then went into a friend’s hotel room until we were joined by the rest of the girls. Overall… absolutely the best weekend of my life and I'd love to do it all again.

#sherlocked usa #con write up #con report

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warlock-enthusiast · 7 years

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the only thing I wanna touch

It’s my dearest @feylen ‘s birthday!!! <3 All the confetti and cakes and hugs for you <3 <3

Adria Trevelyan x Cullen Rutherford (succuwolfAu)

„Cullen?”

He stopped in his tracks. „Hm?“

„Stop pacing.“Alistair put his book at the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Something seemed off with his friend, but Cullen couldn’t figure out what exactly. His whole posture spoke of tension, fingers thrumming against the armrest.

Lately, he’d been so occupied with the thoughts of a first date with Adria that maybe he didn’t pay close enough attention to his friend? Shame rose in his throat and colored his cheeks and his tongue seemed to thick to form coherent words. „I ...“

„Yes, you do. Stop it. You’re ruining the carpet.“

And it was a pretty expensive carpet and one Alistair apparently liked. „Sorry.“

He got up then, came to stand at Cullen’s side, hand barely touching his arm. „Are you nervous?“

„Yes.“Cullen couldn’t remember the last time, he’d felt this way. His palms sweaty, thoughts a constant chaos, and he’d changed his clothing three times already, because he wasn’t able to decide on what to wear. Not really satisfied with his looks and appearance, he’d finally settled on a white shirt, some jeans and boots. Combined with a leather jacket and maybe he looked a bit like some 60s greaser, but it fit his broad frame and the occasion. Adria and he were going out on a picnic, after all.

Alistair shrugged. „Why? You, eh, know how she looks naked? You’ve shared a lot more than words and time.“

He’d a point, no denying that, but how to tell him that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more? All those years spent in loneliness, even with Alistair at his side, he’d never felt something akin to this.

„But we haven’t been on a date yet and shit, what happens, if everything goes wrong?“He’d been smitten with her looks and confidence, her voice, the dry wit, and the way she made him feel alive. A rare thing for a werewolf, who’d seen so much darkness already. Just talking to each other seemed like such a strange concept for a werewolf and a succubus.

Cullen tried to remember, if he’d ever been good at dates. No. He hadn’t. „You really like her then?“Alistair wouldn’t meet his eyes and sadness lingered in the way of his words and posture. His thoughts were with her. The woman, who died and came back and died again and again. The pain of losing her and finding her being reborn, but of out his touch, sat etched into the lines of Alistair’s face.

„I do.“A lot. He wanted, no, needed this to be alright.

„Good luck, mate. It’s going to be great.“

Cullen clasped Alistair’s shoulder. A silent promise to reunite the vampire and his long lost love, one day. To make the both of them happy and whole again.

Riding his bike lifted his spirits. The machine between his legs spoke of freedom and the constant thrumming of its engine calmed his frayed nerves. Twenty minutes later, and he found himself in front of their meeting place. He took off his helmet and looked at his watch. Still some time left. Cullen ruffled his hair, trying desperately to flatten it down. A wild mess of blond curls won the fight against gel. Damnation. He stopped, as he saw Adria approach, though. She wore a simple, yet elegant, summer dress, with a cardigan covering her shoulders and a skirt to her knees. And she smiled at him and the world just stopped. With her black hair and blue eyes, she looked like some forgotten goddess. They had yet to talk about their pasts, but it wouldn’t surprise him to find an ancient cult devoted to her ancestors.

“Adria. You look stunning.” The sun brought a translucent sheen to her skin. Cullen hoped that he didn’t seem to smitten by her mere sight. He was and she could sense it on him, as he could smell it on her.

Adria came to stand in front of his bike, clearly impressed by the sight. “Thank you. You’re quite dashing yourself.” “Ah.” Cullen smiled and offered her his spare helmet. “You can put this on.”

It seemed a bit weird. Creatures of the dark going on a date in the bright sunlight. No human would be able to tell that something was off with them. Hopefully. Today, they were acting like a normal couple.

Cullen took the basket, which she’d carried, and fastened it on the back of the bike.

Adria watched him, still smiling. “Well, then we’re good to go?” “Yes. Please hold tight.”

She did. Pressed her slender body against his back, head between his shoulders, and arms around his waist. Cullen fought against the heat rising in his neck and cheeks. They’d already shared some nights together and the memories came flooding back with her being so close. He needed to concentrate on the road, eyes straight forward, and not distracted by her smell and warmth.

Cullen chose a place outside of the city. He didn’t want to be watched or disturbed on their first date and their surroundings changed. Trees and wide plans of grass, less houses and people. He loved the scent of untouched nature and how it made him long for simpler times.

Their final destination lay close to a river, smelling of flowers and summer. Rocks surrounded the riverbed and even the sky looked bluer from this hiding place. Clear water sparkling in the sun and almost a bit too cheesy with the large oaks and silence. He parked the bike close by and helped Adria dismount. Not that she needed a guiding hand, but he craved her touch.

She stretched her limbs and Cullen found the motion rather stunning. Her voice brought him back to reality. “It’s beautiful. How did you find it?” “Long story about a full moon and me getting a bit weird in the head.” His first full moons had been hell and his mind in pieces in the mornings. A vampire helped him cope and Alistair hopefully wouldn’t mind sharing this place with another person. “Oh. You have to tell me one day.” “I will, but first...” Cullen spread a blanket on the grass and opened the basket. Adria had brought small delicacies, sandwiches, cupcakes, fruits, while Cullen had opted for the drinks. Everything smelled fantastic and his mouth watered at the sight. As a werewolf his hunger overtook his rationality often enough and no one should ever invite him back to that steakhouse on 5th street. That poor waitress.

Cullen opened a bottle of wine and poured the content into cups. Delicate glasses just weren’t made for outings like this. He handed one to Adria and found her eyes on his face. “To be honest? I feel a bit weird.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Me too. Has been a while since I was on date.”

“Same.” Cullen rubbed his neck. “Don’t know, if I’m doing it right.” She took a sip of the wine. “You are.”

“Glad to hear it. Want a refill?” Not that the cup was already empty, but he needed to do something with his hands. Adria seemed to notice his discomfort. “Yes.”

“It’s good.” It was. He found the bottles in their own cellar. Having a home for once offered many comforts. Like a bed, or expensive wine stashed in dusty shelves. Cullen scanned the delicate writing on the bottle and the date, which put it into the highest grossing drinks of all times. “And like a hundred years old. Immortality pays off. At least, for Alistair. At times.”

Adria nodded. “Until you start to forget what humanity feels like.”

“True. Sometimes I catch myself doing weird things? I’m glad that most humans are too occupied with themselves to actually notice something off with their casual otherworldly neighbors.” He wasn’t that old. Especially for werewolf standards or compared to his best friend, but Cullen caught himself sniffing the meat in the supermarket or growling at huge dogs. He also grew tired of the occasional dog jokes, always about leaving fur in the bathtub and trying to mark his room with… well, pee.

“Yes. They’d probably start to hunt us or put us into zoos.” Some of the smarter ones already hunted them down like prey, as if everyone of them was about eating people and being evil. Humanity couldn’t claim innocence either. Not with their wars and their hatred. Bad eggs existed in every branch of beings. Just thinking about being caged, made him antsy. “Gruesome thought.”

Adria shook her head, lost in thought for a moment. Cullen coulnd’t imagine what life must have been for someone like her. A succubi wasn’t even welcome in most circles of the supernatural beings. Their reputation tainted by centuries of mistrust.

Her sadness vanished, though, and Cullen furrowed his brow at her question. “So, tell me about your last date?”

His last date. Cullen wasn’t great at meeting new people in general and dating for that matter and hadn’t been that interested in it either. Until he’d met Adria. She already started to change him, even with asking about former flings. Alistair still teased him about the weekend with that red-haired woman. “There isn’t really much to talk about. She was a werewolf and we just didn’t click. Had some rather embarrassing hours out camping.”

“You took your date camping?” Adria looked shocked by the mere thought. “Yes.”

“Cullen, just … no.” Adria started to laughed and he joined. Afterward, he’d finally understood that maybe camping wasn’t the best idea for a date. Especially, if it’s the first one and you two don’t know each other that well and you’re in the middle of nowhere and have forgotten the cards. Some werewolves weren’t as fond of nature as he was and having to cuddle to share warmth wasn’t as romantic as books wanted you to believe.

“Lets just forget about it. I promise that I won’t take you out camping.”

“I’m relieved. But you’re allowed to drive me around on your bike a bit more.” Adria pointed into the direction of it and Cullen felt a bit like a bit proud.

“You like it?” She nodded. “A lot. It’s very strong but a bit old-fashioned? It fits.”

“Never looked at it that way.” He and his bike matched? “Didn’t think so.”

Cullen shook off his leather jacket, because the sun was starting to get annoying. They had to be close to midday now. Adria followed his example and put her cardigan on the edge of the blanket. Her shoulders were bare and a distraction and Cullen decided trying not too look too closely at them. He remembered his teeth on her skin, the bruising on her collarbone and the way she moved above him, beneath him. Adria hid her smile behind a strawberry. She could easily sense his thoughts drifting towards more delicate matters.

Talking to her wasn’t as hard as he’d thought, here and there filled with silences and shy smiles, but he didn’t stumble over his own tongue and thoughts. There was an aura of tranquility around her, making himself feel at peace, quietening the impulses of a beast.

They finished the food in silence, simply enjoying being near each other and far from prying eyes, who’d judge them for such a liaison. Cullen and Alistair enjoyed mingling with their kind in a rather limited fashion. From time to time it felt necessary, but more often than not they stuck to the same circle of people or with each others company.

He got to his knees. “Close your eyes, Adria.”

She raised a brow, but did as she was told. With her arms on her legs, she almost looked innocent.

Cullen kissed her. Just a mere touch of lips and took a step back to offer her a single daisy.

He bowed. “For you, my lady.”

“The most gracious gift, my shining knight.” Adria leaned closer and Cullen found her fingers intertwined with his. He tucked the flower behind her left ear, thumb brushing her cheek in the process.

She started to laugh and her eyes were bright and warm.

And Cullen was in love.

#cullen rutherford #cullen #adrian trevelyan #feylen #succuwolf!au #headcanons #alistair #HAPPY BIRTHDAY

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jewish-gay-elves · 4 years

Text

Doomed Love 1/?

AO3 Link

Zevran and Daolin have an odd relationship. These documents were collected to try to understand what exactly they were doing after the Fifth Blight and the destruction of Amaranthine.

Words: 3431, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of the Daolin Tabris: The Family You Don't Choose

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Zevran Arainai, Male Tabris, Male Warden, Anders Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Warden, Zevran Arainai/Tabris, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden, Zevran Arainai/Male Tabris Additional Tags: this is a bunch of like letters or just documentation following my warden post-blight, and post amaranthine, idk how long it's going to be, Dialogue Drabble, talking about the Taint

[Recovered drafts found in the desk of the Warden Commander of Ferelden, Vigil’s Keep 9:36 Dragon]

Dear Love,

I remember being nineteen summers when we first met. It was hot and sticky in that little crevice between hills which probably wasn’t hot at all compared to Antiva for you. I was worried when that human came up to us, Cynbayd had already given a warning growl and Alistair was bristling as she delivered her plea. Alistair grabbed my shoulder perhaps to try and warn me, but I wasn’t feeling the warmest towards him at the time. Still was having night terrors about Vaughan even months after what happened. Didn’t want to help her but didn’t want him touching me more. Just to spite him I shrugged him off, nocked an arrow, and followed the girl. Instead of, well whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t the sight of you standing there waiting, along with that blasted tree collapsing above us.

The fight that followed may have been one of the most difficult I fought in that year. Alistair probably still has a bruise from where you ended up punching him. Though you seemed to be very thankful that his shield didn’t bash your nose into your skull. Looking back it is a wonder that none of us died, I think about that everyday now it seems. It may be because I keep hearing the story repeated in these taverns I find on especially cold nights. Regaled around tables over the warm piss for ale everyone seems to serve.

Remember after the final battle, when my father came up to us, the face you made may be my favorite thus far. How he demanded we sit down for a proper meal, and wouldn’t let you slink away after I said you were the reason fate hadn’t let me get married. Wasn’t surprised when he also demanded the whole story. Glad we glossed over how we actually met. A horde of mercenaries and a trained Antivan Crow, that certainly would have given my father a heart attack had we told him. Glad he thinks you’re a charming devil. You’ll look out for him whenever you’re in Denerim won’t you? Afraid I won’t be in the region for quite some time. Won’t be in the country for quite some time.

That leads to why I actually wrote this letter. You know me, can’t get to the point if my life depended on it. I’m leaving Ferelden my love. Sounds silly to write it like that when you haven’t been here in what feels like years. Without you, I’m not home. Regardless, Ferelden is all I’ve ever known. Not sure for how long I’ll be gone. Not sure if I’ll be back. Not sure if I’ll be able to write as often. Wouldn’t want to bore you with details, just know that I will think of you every day. I think of you daily anyway, but I don’t want you to forget that. I love you, Zevran.

Yours,

Daolin

[The bottom of the draft is rumpled from a small amount of water damage]

[Discarded crumpled bits of paper found amongst the Warden-Commander’s personal belongings 9:41 Dragon]

Grand Enchanter Fiona

-Must find more records of her time as a Warden.

-Montsimmard

-Apparently now serves the Inquisition.

-Redcliffe? Skyhold?

Avernus

-Blood Magic

-DO NOT ATTEMPT

Must figure something out, Weisshaupt will have nothing. Nothing for me to look at, at any rate. Why would they want to cure the Taint if they know that is what keeps half of their men with the Wardens? Zevran is starting to wonder why I haven’t told him what’s going on. He won’t believe I’m acting on Weisshaupt’s orders much longer. He’s not stupid. So clever, too clever. Just knows me too well to ask questions yet. Just need to tell him what is really going on. That I’m scared of the Calling. That I’m scared to become a ghoul. I’m scared I’ll end up hurting him. I’m so scared.

[The rest of the paper grows increasingly scratched on and marked out, as if ideas were written and quickly discarded in anger and frustration]

[A page torn out of the apostate Anders’ journal dating around 9:43 Dragon]

Andraste’s flaming knickers I thought I was being careful. I got found today. Thankfully it was just the Warden Commander. Though I don’t know what he wants so I may not have much to be thankful for soon. The Commander is a ranger however, that may be how he was able to find me despite my best efforts to travel unnoticed. He hasn’t explained why he was looking for me yet. Just came into the cave where I was, drenched to the bone, and demanded I build up a fire. He always did remind me of a cat, especially his hatred for being wet or cold. I remember we were in the Blackmarsh and all of his orders were practically spat at us. Didn’t particularly help things when that spirit showed up in Kristoff’s body. To be fair, Kristoff wasn’t actually using it anymore, but he had a point that the dead deserved respect.

Regardless, we are as far from the Blackmarsh as can be. Practically skirting around the borders of the Tevinter Imperium at this point. There aren’t as many Venatori around here, I suspect they’ve retreated back to their hidey holes in the Magisterium. Though I imagine that even if there were Venatori here, they wouldn’t be for long. In this kind of weather the Commander’s rage wouldn’t be limited to just darkspawn. However, I had heard stories from Oghren that suggest the Commander might not need more reasons to wish death on Tevinters. Apparently they had a slave operation running out of Denerim’s alienage during the Fifth Blight.

Almost makes me think of Fenris. Or maybe Isabela. But then again, Isabela didn’t grow up knowing those people who were about to become slaves. She still freed them though.

The Warden-Commander is starting to unnerve me. He hasn’t said a word since he got here. He was never one for words in the first place but this is getting creepy. He’s just been standing guard near the cave entrance, as if he were waiting on something. Or someone?

[The entry ends there to be picked up an undetermined amount of time later]

Turns out my guess about waiting was correct. Not long after I wrote that, a mabari started barking. Very, very, close to the cave. Scared the piss out of me, but the Warden-Commander just laughed at me but then eagerly stood outside in the rain looking for the mabari. Actually went out into the rain willingly for it. I’ve never seen that man step into the rain for anything less than total annihilation or the threat of darkspawn.

Could barely see a thing through the thick downpour but where I thought the Warden-Commander was he bent down to see this lump I assumed and then the mabari stopped making noise. Then another humanoid figure appeared next to where the Warden-Commander was crouched, I almost shouted a warning but then he surged to his feet and collided with the other person, tackling them into the mud. I almost ran out there assuming that he was being attacked but over the sound of the rain I heard loud laughing, laughing of the kind I hadn’t heard in over a decade.

After standing out in the rain for a moment longer, holding on to my staff, the one Hawke had given me, I started trying to get closer, seeing the lump jumping around where the Warden-Commander had gone down. I called out to the Commander, trying to be quiet so that we wouldn’t get anymore attention drawn to us. The lump stopped and I could finally see that it must have been that mabari who was making all the noise. The laughing died down and then I saw an arm reach into the air and wave from where I guess the Commander was on the ground.

Eventually I gave up and headed back inside the cave. They have to come back inside sooner or later, and knowing the Commander it’ll probably be sooner. I should stop writing, he hates it when it seems like I’m not paying attention.

[The rest of the page is torn and any sentences that are written are incomplete.]

#dragon age #dragon age origins #writing #daolin #daolin tabris #zevran arainai #zevran x tabris #anders

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