#Darian Tabris

[psalacanthea]

A lil’ bit more of Solas hanging out with the Arainai-Mahariel-Tabris kiddos (and their mom).  Just a blood mage and a traitor god teaching four year olds about how change requires suffering.

Adaia   Ashalle  Cyris and Tamlen

...

Liana glanced up from her food as Cyris and Tamlen came barreling into the Skyhold kitchen, the courtyard door thrown wide.

The servants glanced over, but when it was only the Inquisitor’s children, they went back to work.  Much like Lia herself, her children had become an expected thing, as all of them preferred to use side entrances and be out of sight, rather than marching through that big noisy hall.  She wished desperately that there was an alternate exit to her rooms, but alas.

Her nearly four-year-olds were both scuffed and red-faced, but Zevran had kept his word and they weren’t muddy.  When they came to a stop at her side, Cyris beaming delightedly up at her, she returned the smiles and tilted her head.  The twins shared a look.

“Yes, loves?” she prompted.

Like usual, Cyris took the lead.  “Mumae, Tamlen wants an earring.”

“Can Tamlen tell me that’s true?” she asked, and then sighed and reinforced when the twins immediately looked at each other again instead of at her.  Creators that could be frustrating.  “I need Tamlen to tell me himself, please.”

“Tamlen says–”

“Cyris, let him speak for himself,” Lia interrupted chidingly, and turned her attention to her solemn, blond-haired, golden-eyed son.  He looked, much to everyone’s eternal amusement, almost exactly like his papa Zevran, but was the quietest and gentlest of their children.

All of their da’len were rather pragmatic apart from Tamlen, who would cry over a crushed flower and agonize over every mistake.  Instinctively, all the other children tended to protect him.  It was sweet, but it would make things difficult when they tried to do everything for him.

Tamlen nodded, eyes serious and calm.  “Yes.  Cyris too, mumma.”

“Like papa an’ da!” Cyris agreed, voice scaling up in excitement.

“Well, we’ve had this talk before, and you know the rules.  I will do your ears, or just one ear, but when you say stop, I stop.  Because it will hurt.  If you’re ready, you’ll be able to sit and not say stop for the whole time.  Yes?”  Lia smiled at their shared nod, giving one of her own.  “It’s okay if you need to cry, you can even yell!  Nobody likes pain.  But if you want to wear earrings, there has to be pain.  Yes, cubs?  Do you understand that?”

She got her ‘yes mamae’s before she would relent.  Lia had known this would happen eventually, all of the children loved to emulate their parents.  An earring wasn’t too far, in her opinion, they were so young that even if they healed the ears with magic, they would still grow over in time.  There was no reason to say no.  

Well, she doubted either of them would actually manage to go through it, but she’d been surprised too many times by children to rule it out.

Especially hers.

“Well, let us see if Hahren has time to help us,” she decided, before gathering up her chicks.

Once she’d retrieved her kit and informed Derry and Zevran of what was happening (and they’d bet on if the twins would go through with it), they found Solas and asked if he would come be their healer.  Lia was annoyed with the necessity, but she’d promised herself to limit her blood magic usage when in Chantry custody.  Every time she called it custody she knew Leliana would get annoyed, which might have been why she was still saying it.

They’d even forced her to be Inquisitor, she’d say what she wanted.

Things were…rocky between her and Leliana.

Solas seemed interested in the proposition, and they adjourned to a nearby balcony, where there were no witnesses to berate her for piercing her four year olds’ ears at their request.  Humans could be odd.  Even some city elves– their grandfather Cyrion still would fuss over the idea of the children getting tattoos.

As if she would deny them a perfectly reasonable request.

Clasping the brightly-dyed, felted piercing kit her foster mother had made for her, Lia gazed down at her sons, crouching before them as they sat on the balcony.  She met Cyris’ fearless brown eyes, and then Tamlen’s sober golden ones.  They still seemed steadfast, though Cyris was upset because he wanted a ‘ring earring, not a dot’.  But she had her limits, and risking a ripped earlobe on a four year old was one of them.

“Now,” Lia said once they were settled, Solas standing by with curiosity, his hands clasped behind his back.  “It is time for an important speech, because you decided you’re old enough for this, yes?”

The twins looked at one another, and then Cyris nodded firmly.  Lia waited, though, until Tamlen nodded as well.  It wasn’t hesitance, just his usual habit of forgetting that he had to speak for himself.  She returned the nod.

“You did not choose your body.  You were born with it, yes?”

“Not like Cole,” Cyris said, as quick as always.  “Cole was a spirit, mumae.  Like Justice!”  He confided this with the air of someone sharing a great secret.

“Mmh.  Like your friend Justice.  But we are talking of your bodies, little mischief.  A body is important for many things.  It keeps you safe, and can keep others safe, and helps you take care of others.  It lets you make life, like mamae and papa made you.  It lets you experience joys spirits do not understand.  Like sweets, and swimming–”

“An’ frogs,” Cyris interrupted, gleefully off-track as usual.

Creators, they were probably too young for this talk, but it had to be done.

“And frogs,” Lia said, and she knew she hadn’t hidden her exasperation as much as she’d wanted, because Solas smiled faintly.  “We must take care of our bodies, so it can bring us joy.  But sometimes our bodies don’t look the way we want, so we change them.  With clothes, art, or jewelry, or even bigger things, like when Uncle Gaharan from clan Lavellan removed his breasts.  Do you remember?”

Cyris shook his head, but Tamlen nodded hesitantly.  That was fair.  They hadn’t seen any of the clans since they were newly turned three, and a four year old’s memory could be quite short.  

“Do you remember when Tamlen cried because we had to cut off some of his hair that got caught in the bramble?”  This time she got very emphatic nods from both of them, and even a little tearing up from her most sensitive child.  Cyris took his hand firmly, a little protective gesture that softened her heart as always.  “It hurt Tamlen’s heart, but things like tattoos and piercings hurt your body.  Earrings will hurt.”

“A lot, mumma?” Tamlen asked nervously.

“It will.  To change is difficult,” Lia said, lifting the needle in two fingers.

“Mumae, does it hurt the frog?  To be frog?” Cyris asked, little voice stilted by his concern.

Lia understood why it was coming up again– Derry had told her frogs and tadpoles were a current obsession for Cyris’ very hands-on curiosity.  Very well, if frogs it had to be, frogs it would be.  “To change from a little pollywiggle to a frog?  I don’t know if it does, but…growing up always hurts a little, I think.  Do you think hurting a little to have legs and to be able to jump up is okay or–”

“Yes!  Up, up, up!” Cyris agreed, throwing both hands into the air.

“Sometimes to gain something we desire, it hurts,” Solas said quietly. 

Tamlen nodded, voice quiet.  “It’s trade.”

Lia beamed, all the more amused to see Solas’ proud smile as well.  She knew they would wriggle through his defenses eventually.  She’d known it all along.  He had a temperament to get along with children quite well, if he let himself.  Which he had.

“Very good, da’len.  You understood very well,”  Solas complimented Tamlen, who glanced down and fidgeted with his fringed belt shyly.

“When Addie got her t’too, mum said it’s trade for hurt, Hahren.”

Lia flushed, embarrassed to have been caught out.  Solas lifted his gaze slowly, and gave her a condescendingly knowing look.  With a little huff, she rolled her eyes to the side.

“Well, perhaps I’ve given this speech before,” she admitted, ignoring his silent laugh.  Creators.  It wasn’t like she could be blamed for some repetition, she was trying to teach the same things to four very different little people.

“Adaia has a tattoo?”  Solas asked, both eyebrows raising.

“A small one, in a spot that will be easy to cover over when it stretches as she grows,” Lia dismissed, finding it silly to hear Solas say things she’d heard a thousand times from Derry’s side of the family.  “Her da and papa are covered in them, it’s natural to her.  If a child is prepared for the consequences and the discomfort, who am I to say no?”

Solas didn’t bother to hide the subtle smirk that curved up the corner of his wide mouth.  “Their mother, perhaps?  She is only six, Lianalle.”

Lia lifted a hand and flickered it in dismissal, annoyed with him for the very rare usage of her full name.  She knew he did it on purpose.  Smug old man.  “A tattoo does no harm but the pain of receiving it.  Besides, it will be good practice to know what it feels like, for when she receives her Vallaslin.”

Solas’ silence was sudden and profound.  She glanced sidelong at his face, absently using a hand to pull Cyris away from the balcony’s edge.  Although Solas’ face was placid, there was a sudden tension in the muscles at the back of his jaw, a curiously pained emotion in his eyes.  He was hiding something.

She followed his gaze down to Tamlen, who was sitting on the floor still holding Cyris’ hand, gazing at his twin with a small, gentle smile.

Why did it give Solas such an uneasy expression?

“I'm going to poke your fingers with the needle,” she informed her sons.  If Lia was right, that would be enough for one of them to give in, which would make the other one give in.  “If you can stand the finger poke and still want your ear afterwards, I will do your ear.”

“And I will heal you,” Solas agreed.  They shared a look, and he shook his head slightly at her, obviously amused.

She wasn’t as certain as him that they would give up after a single poke.  While neither of them was nearly the bulwark of stubbornness that Adaia was, nor as carefully thoughtful, they were quite adventurous.  For four year olds.

They both took the needle to their cautiously outstretched finger quite well, though Tamlen immediately teared up when he saw the little drop of blood.  Luckily his brother was there to kiss it better, and then Solas to heal it afterward.  Much to her surprise, however, it was at that point that they diverged.

Usually when Tamlen decided to back down about something, Cyris would immediately follow him.  But this time, after their small twin conversation that involved more significant looks than words, Cyris decided he wanted to keep going.  And Tamlen…was all right with that, instead of immediately bursting into tears.

She was rather proud of them both for that choice.

Of course, she only got halfway through piercing Cyris’ ear before he gave up, left with a little bloody hole that Solas healed over.  Thankfully without judgment.  Solas seemed highly amused by the whole process, but interested as well, as she’d rather thought he would be.  

It was an endlessly fascinating thing to watch children learning the rules of life.

When the boys ran off after she dried their tears, unharmed and declaring they would be ‘brave enough soon’, Lia opened the soft felted case again, gazing down at the gleaming needles.

She had no doubt they would be ready sooner rather than later.

“Liana…”

“Mmh?” she asked, glancing up at Solas as she rose from the stone, knees chilled.

“The Vallaslin…” he trailed off, but not out of awkwardness.  More because he knew just how far to push her by now, she thought.  His face was still perfectly composed when she met his measuring gaze.

“Were you going to say something about ‘Dalish nonsense’ again?” she asked him mildly, not worrying too much about it if he were.  By now, at least, she felt comfortable scolding him.  “I thought we already agreed not to have that fight any more.  I let my children call you Hahren, Solas, don’t make me regret it.”

Solas chuckled faintly, the sound a hint strained.  But when she glanced sidelong, his face was placid, and his voice even as he spoke.  “I wonder, as a mother, do you ever fear that the teachings you impart to your children may be…wrong?”

Lia considered that for a moment, and then took a moment longer to filter it through her understanding of his mind.  He thought her gods a farce, or worse, dangerous.  He found Dalish culture to be a misshapen thing because it did not conform to the truths he thought he had seen in the Fade that contradicted it.  Yet he could not truly understand Dalish culture.

How could he educate that which he didn’t first understand?

She knew that he was earnest that the Vallaslin was what bothered him, but wouldn’t doubt for a moment that there was more to his distaste than the process of tattooing young people.  “The details may not all be correct, and I will make mistakes, and pass on some of the mistakes that were taught to me.  But what I worry about are the things the world will teach them when I am not there to protect them.  So I suppose, Solas, the best I can do is teach them to understand the world, how it works for ones such as they, and why it is better to live in it with kindness, nobility of spirit, and resilience.  So that when I, or their fathers are not here, they can pass through the trials and suffering of this world with those qualities intact.”

“Resilience.  Well, their mother certainly exemplifies that quality,” Solas said with an incline of his head.  And then he chuckled.  “Fathers as well, though with a great deal less…dignity.”

Lia laughed, not needing to argue that point with him when he was so very correct. “Zevran and Darian are far more good-hearted than I, however.  I am not kind.  Perhaps that’s why I need them both, to anchor me.  You know, if you found someone to temper your need to always be correct, falon, you might be a good father yourself.”

“You claim I require a partner to correct me?  Do you not find that sentiment as distasteful as I?” Solas countered, raising an eyebrow.

She hid her amusement that she’d needled him.  “Everything we do and everyone we meet changes us, doesn’t it?  Life isn’t a road, and it isn’t a lonely one.  It’s a pond that is constantly shifting, surface rippling with even the most delicate of contacts.  Everything we are touched by changes us, in curious and unexpected ways.”  Unbidden, she glanced down at her marked hand, forehead furrowing as she flexed her fingers.

Solas’ voice eased, softening as it always would when they spoke of her difficulties with the Anchor.  “You would know.  This is your second world-ending cataclysm, after all.”

“The Blight was…different,”  Lia said, troubled as always.  Would that saving the world twice followed the same pattern– she would have preferred it.  “We were so young, and we never had time to look at the scale of what we fought.  It was not so entangled in complications and Thedas-wide politics.  They claim they need these politics to garner the forces we–” She cut off, swallowing her many tearful, terrified speeches that she had only shared with her husbands.  Face and mind calm; emotions should not be so easily shared.  “I fear what ripples I am being forced to make.  And for whom I make them.”

“Yes,” Solas said, an echo of many other conversations they had engaged in, once she had trusted him enough to be honest.  His voice was sober and quiet, thoughtful.  “But necessity must drive us, da’len.”

Lia shot him a sidelong look, lips pursing.  “Da’len?”

“Ir abelas,” Solas said, with the faintest twitch of his lips.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  “You should be calling me hahren.”

“I beg your pardon?” Solas scoffed.

She lifted a needle, spinning it in her fingers.  “Will you be brave, then, Solas?  I’m here prepared, but with nothing to pierce.”

“I find myself in no need of decoration,” he replied, eyeing the needle in her hand.  “We struggle through a time of great change, and there are enough without my adding to them.”

“Or you could embrace the change, and let yourself change as well, falon.  Even if only a little, and frivolously.  In a way that brings you joy.”  With a sad smile she tucked the needle away into the felt case, voice slowing.  “Joys are in short enough supply.  We must take what small ones we can.”

Solas was quiet for a time, but when she glanced away from the vista of distant mountains to his face, there was a ghost of a smile at the very corners of his eyes, nearly reaching his lips.

“Perhaps another time,” he said quietly.

With a small nod, she turned back for the door, slipping the woven leather cord around the case and tying it securely.  She had a foot past the threshold when Solas spoke again.  She was pleased to hear a hint of humor in it.

“Were you aware that your husband cheats at cards?”

Lia smirked to herself, tucking the case into the front of her tunic.  “Oh my, yes.  Zevran mentioned you’d demanded another game.  He will cheat again.”  That thought was tinged with overwhelming affection.

“And he will lose,” Solas replied with calm confidence.

“I look forward to seeing it.  It will doubtless be very entertaining,” she said, smiling to herself as she departed.

A small joy– a brief reprieve from the pain.

#Solas fic #Cyris Tabris #Tamlen Tabris #Liana Mahariel #(yes Inquis is Mahariel) #zevran arainai #Darian Tabris

[stinkrascal]

ive been on a huge dragon age kick lately, so heres my canon playthrough + my two favorite alternative universe playthroughs! from top left we have:

canon worldstate: morwen tabris, eden hawke, elisen lavellan. // alternative worldstate 1: sylvester amell, darian hawke, ataash adaar. // alternative worldstate 2: kyren mahariel, lyra hawke, sylvana and ariava lavellan

#ts4 #misc sims #im gonna ramble about their romances now bc its my favorite part of dragon age!!!! #*inhales* #morwen romances alistair. eden romances anders. elisen romances solas :') #sylvester romances leliana. darian romances merrill. ataash romances cassandra!! #kyren romances zevran. lyra romances isabela. sylvana romances cassandra too!! ariava romances cullen!! #sylvana is the inquisitor btw. ariava is her younger sister who followed her to haven and nags her lol i love her #i've played both of their playthroughs but technically sylvana is the inquisitor not ariava. ariava helps with the halla at the stables! #you can probably tell who my favorite romance is from this list (hint: it's cassandra) #i love solas and cullen too of course. actually i like them all. you don't know how many more playthroughs i have #just so i can romance the love interests in these games ahahaha i honestly have so many #🌱 #the sims 4

[silvanils]

Hello! For DADWC “I remember when we first met…” for Zevran and Tabris 😊

@dadrunkwriting​

I actually was reading some older writing I did for Dirk and Zev recently and a little piece about the day he met Zevran was one of the journal entries I wrote out here! So, that’s what inspired some of this little talk between them~

“You know, it’s almost our anniversary,” Darian sighs, quietly, and Zevran arches an eyebrow. “I mean, the anniversary of the day we first met, not… the day we got together, or… wedded.”

“Ah, mi tesoro, I was about to say… it is nowhere near Summersday!” Zevran says, laughing aloud. “I will not soon forget that date. But — the day we met, you say? Really?”

“I was reading my old journals again,” he says. “Next week, it will be exactly sixteen years since that ill-fated ambush.”

Zevran’s grin only grows. “Ill-fated? Ha! But no, please continue. What else do your journals say about this? Because I remember… when we first met, you  certainly caught my attention. And I believed I caught yours, too.”

Darian’s cheeks go ruddy as he blushes. “Well, I… did write something about worrying my friends were judging me for sparing you for the wrong reason. But it was true that I couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Zevran asks, beaming. “And here I always thought it was my hair that you liked best...”

Darian laughs, reaching out to tuck a few golden strands behind Zevran’s ear. “I do like your hair, but… no, it was your eyes that struck me first — I saw the exact moment a spark of hope returned to them, when you realized I might actually spare you. I wrote about that the very night you joined us.”

Zevran’s smile fades just a little, his eyes still soft and fond. “Always so perceptive, my dear Warden. Nothing gets past you. Not even me.”

“Not even you,” Darian says, chuckling as he leans in a little more. Zevran closes the distance, pulling him close for a kiss, and they melt into it together.

When they pull apart, Zevran is grinning. “Here’s to my greatest failure, then.”

#da drunk writing circle #zevran x warden #zevran x tabris #;Dirk/Zevran #;knight writes

[bluerose5]

More about the Tabris family and Darrian, because I have them on my mind.

Adaia is Rivaini; Cyrion is Fereldan (of course).

In my canon, the elder of Denerim's alienage would often keep the presence of mages quiet, so long as they posed no threat to themselves or others. This was to ensure that they maintained their numbers, and Cyrion was one of such mages, having developed a talent for healing at a young age.

He learned methods both magical and non-magical, eventually becoming the alienage's resident healer & surgeon.

Adaia's and Cyrion's marriage was an unexpected surprise, rather than a typical arranged match through the alienage elder. They both did seek the elder's approval before they were wed, however.

Daughter to a Rivaini seer and a Dalish craftsman from the Dalish's Llomerryn settlement, Adaia was no stranger to lifestyles that lay outside of the Chantry’s influence. She was raised as a pantheist, in fact, and she passed on her knowledge of Rivain and its culture to her son.

Adaia has always been a bit of an adventurer. Traveling in her youth, she has taken on a variety of jobs, everything from a sailor and pirate to a mercenary. In Denerim, she took on multiple postings at various establishments as a guard.

After an injury during a rough night on guard duty, Cyrion found her wounded in an alley. He healed her and brought her back to the alienage to finish patching her up. The rest, as they say, is history.

An idea I've been toying with: Darrian is primarily a rogue, but he did eventually develop some magical talents in his youth as well, presumably passed on from his father and from his grandmother. His father taught him the basics of healing, and both parents taught him how to safely interact with spirits and how to resist possession from more malignant ones. (Adaia did so by passing on the teachings of her mother. Plus, I'm a sucker for multiclassing, and this is my excuse to do so, especially since I've learned how to use the console commands for PC.) Darian mostly uses his magic to weaken his enemies and to augment his powers. Specialities are in entropy and spirit magic with basic healing spells.

Although he wishes to one day see it, Darrian has never been to Rivain, even though he has been taught some of both the Rivaini and Dalish ways in his upbringing.

While certain placements and designs have more cultural significance among the Rivaini, Darrian does have his own selection of tattoos and piercings. He views an exchange of jewelry as an act of affection (looking at you, Zevran).

Oh, and Cyrion definitely took Adaia's last name, glad we cleared that up.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #male tabris #darrian tabris #adaia tabris #cyrion tabris #male warden #zevran x tabris #zevwarden #zevran arainai #this is me just rambling about how much i love rivaini culture #and wish it was explored more #plus multiclassing protags are *chef's kiss* #bluerose rambles #bluerose headcanons #me @ cyrion and adaia is like that one post that goes 'when you ship a m/f couple but in a way that's clearly bisexual' #also bioware give me more apostates in settings where they're just living their best lives outside of the circles #without being a nuisance to anyone

[erikacousland]

All my Origins' playable characters

---

Human Noble Origin

Erika Cousland Born: 27 Verimensis, 9:13 Dragon Height: 5' 10" (1.78 m) Class: Rogue Specialization: Duelist, Berserker, Assassin, Legionnaire Scout Voice: Hellena Taylor (Wise Human Female) Title: Lady of Highever Grey Warden (formerly) Champion of Redcliffe Commander of the Allies (The Fifth Blight) Vhenallin (Friend of elf people. Or should be Vhenallan as a female?) Hero of Ferelden Commander of the Laurel Order (An elite order, formerly consisted by veterans of the Fifth Blight, many of them contaminated the Blight.) Lady of Soldier's Peak Teyrna of Gwaren Arlessa of Amaranthine (As of 9:31 Dragon, just Arlessa of Amaranthine, the Warden-Commander is another one.) Inquisitor (As of 9:41 Dragon, just Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste is another one.) Paragon of Topsider (As of 9:41 Dragon, a highest honorary title given by King of Orzammar.)

***

Elf Magi Origin

Aline Surana Born: 9:12 Dragon Height: 5' 2" (1.57 m) Class: Mage Specialization: Spirit Healer, Arcane Warrior, Shapeshifter, Battlemage Voice: Corri English (Cocky Elf Female) Title: Mage of Circle of Magi (formerly) Grey Warden (formerly) Captain of the Laurel Order Champion of Gwaren Inquisition Agent

***

City Elf Origin

Darian Tabris Born: 9:11 Dragon Height: 5' 6" (1.68 m) Class: Rogue Specialization: Assassin, Duelist, Shadow Voice: Mark Meer (Experienced Elf Male) Title: Grey Warden (formerly) Captain of the Laurel Order Seneschal of Gwaren Keeper of the city elves

***

Dwarf Noble Origin

Durin Aeducan Born: 9:07 Dragon Height: 4' 11" (1.50 m) Class: Warrior Specialization: Champion, Berserker, Guardian Voice: Keith Ferguson (Experienced Dwarf Male) Title: Commander of Orzammar (formerly) Grey Warden (formerly) King of Orzammar

***

Dwarf Commoner Origin

Rick Brosca Born: 9:12 Dragon Height: 5' 1" (1.55 m) Class: Warrior Specialization: Berserker, Champion, Guardian Voice: Peter Jessop (Cocky Dwarf Male) Title: Grey Warden (formerly) Head of House Brosca, Warrior caste Commander of Orzammar Head of House Brosca, Noble caste (As of 9:41 Dragon)

***

Human Magi Origin

Sofus Amell Born: 9:11 Dragon Height: 6' 2" (1.88 m) Class: Mage Specialization: Knight-Enchanter(Arcane Warrior), Battlemage, Shapeshifter, Spirit Healer Voice: Mark Hildreth (Wise Human Male) Title: Enchanter of Circle of Magi (As of 9:30 Dragon) Captain of the Allies (The Fifth Blight) Captain of the Laurel Order Senior Enchanter of Circle of Magi (As of 9:31 Dragon) Inquisition Agent First Enchanter of Ferelden (As of 9:41 Dragon)

***

Dalish Elf Origin

Theryn Mahariel Born: 9:10 Dragon Height: 5' 5" (1.65 m) Class: Rogue Specialization: Ranger, Assassin, Duelist Voice: Jesse Gervais (Suave Elf Male) Title: Captain of the Allies (The Fifth Blight) Hunter Master of Sabrae Clan (As of 9:31 Dragon) Inquisition Agent

*

Lyna Mahariel Born: 9:10 Dragon Height: 5' 3" (1.60 m) Class: Warrior Specialization: Guardian Voice: Kath Soucie (Sultry Elf Female) Title: Grey Warden "You died proudly. Dareth shiral, sister." -- Theryn, Lyna's twin brother

Dragon Age: Origins Screenshots 1920×2160

#Dragon Age: Origins #Dragon Age #Cousland #Surana #Tabris #Aeducan #Brosca #Amell #Mahariel #Screenshots

[psalacanthea]

Dragon Age Banter Asks

Send in an ask with an OC/Character pairing, and I will write a banter for them!

Dragon Age Origins:

Alistair, Leliana, Sten, Shale, Zevran, Morrigan, Dog

Awakening:

Nathaniel, Anders, Velanna, Sigrun, Oghren, Justice

Dragon Age 2:

Anders, Fenris, Isabela, Merrill, Varric, Bethany, Carver, Aveline, Sebastian

Dragon Age Inquisition:

Varric, Solas, Cassandra, Blackwall, Sera, Vivienne, Dorian, Cole, Iron Bull

#I thought of adding emoji stuff but ppl can specify if they like this and reblog it #OCs: #Phoebe Cousland #Naomi Hawke #Darian Tabris #Liana Mahariel (Lavellan) #I mostly made this to see if other people might want to do it but I do not mind being asked!

[psalacanthea]

That thing about Solas and the Inquisitor’s kid was going around again, so I felt like writing another one.  Solas deserves to have his stupid plans be called out by children. :P

Adaia   Ashalle  Cyris and Tamlen

...

“What does hooey mean?”

“What does-” Dorian’s approaching voice cut off, a sigh echoing down the spiral staircase.  “Spell it for me, won’t you?”

“H-u-e,” the other voice replied, serious in the particularly earnest fashion only a child could be.

“Hue,” Dorian clarified.  “It means a shade of color that has not had any black or white added to it– a pure color.”

The voices were approaching the rotunda, which could only mean one thing.  Dorian was trying to escape.  Resigned, Solas reached for the book he was reading and slid a scrap of paper between the pages, closing it.  Not a suitable volume for a very prying da’len to be looking at.

“Is blue a hue?  Is purple a hue?” the child’s voice asked doggedly.  Much like her words, as Dorian appeared in the archway, the small elven girl behind him was following like a tail.  Perniciously close.

“Yes, blue and purple are hues– oh look!  It’s your Hahren!  He’s so much better at fielding endless inquiries than I am,” Dorian lightly touched the girl’s shoulder, propelling her past him into the rotunda.  Solas gave him a flat look, and Dorian made a pleading gesture from behind the Inquisitor’s eldest daughter, clasping his hands together.  “Well!  This has been a marvelous hour, but I’m afraid I must be off to…report.  To Josephine.  About something I’m sure I’ll think of by the time I get there.”

The mage beat a hasty retreat.

Adaia half-turned to watch him go, solemn golden eyes thoughtful.  Her expressions were much like her mother’s, pensive in rest.  But behind the small frown was a six-year-old child possessed of a near-bottomless well of questions, as curious as her younger siblings were in their own unique ways.  Solas folded his hands together, watching as she clutched the worn book in her arms to her chest, tucking her chin atop it.

“Are there many words you don’t know in your book today, da’len?”

She pivoted to face him, hugging the book a bit tighter.  “Yes.  It’s not a learning book, Hahren.”

“There are no books in this world, da’len, that do not have something to teach.  What is it about?”

“Poems,” she said without pronouncing the ‘e’, approaching him with one last glance over her shoulder.  Her Dalish dress of brightly patterned, hand-woven cloth was rather dusty; she’d been digging through the depths of the shelves again.  “Is Dor’an mad?”

“No, da’len, he enjoys being exasperated.  That means frustrated.”

She shot him a look so dubiously suspicious that Solas had to stifle a laugh.  Adaia shook her head at him soberly, chin-length brown hair swinging.  Her voice was dictating but patient, as if he’d said something foolish.  “People don’t like being mad.”

“Everyone is different.  In this case, though, I believe he likes to pretend to be mad.  Do you like the poems?”  He took the book as she handed it to him, examining it with curiosity.  Verses of Nature; he knew instantly why she’d chosen it.  Ada had a particular fascination with insects and plants.  The little one leaned against the arm of his chair, arms barely able to reach to fold atop it.  

Adaia rested her chin in the hollow between her arms and chest, staring up at him with a penetrating air.  “No,” she admitted with a charming frankness.  “I like books about bones and mushrooms but there arn’t anymore. The poemtry don’t make sense.  D’you like poems?”

“Poetry,” he corrected out of habit, but didn’t correct her grammar.  Solas carefully opened the aged book, holding it so both he and the small child could look at it together.  It seemed to be a collection of nature poetry.  “Well, it may not be about bones, but butterflies and waterfalls.  Those are interesting things as well, da’len.”

“Where are the butterflies?”

“In the poem it says they are on the flowers, do you see?”  Solas asked, pointing to the stanza.  

“No.”  Frustration touched her voice and expression, and the little one gave a small huff, lips pursing mulishly.  “Not no seeing.  I see it.  The butterflies are dancing on the– the…”

“Roseate,” Solas supplied.  He took a moment to consider his audience, and then chose his explanation.  “Which means pink.  Pink like the dawn.  Do you understand what I mean by that?”

“Yes,” she dismissed.  Still, she repeated the word as if imprinting it on her memory.  Which, knowing Adaia, she was.  “Rosey-ate blooms.  Blooms means flowers.  Pink flowers.  It don’t say where.”

“You wish to know where the butterflies can be found?” he asked, understanding dawning.  When she nodded ferociously, he smiled.  “This is a poetry book, da’len.  It is for learning about feelings, not learning where to find butterflies.”

Owlish amber eyes stared at him with a gaze as penetrating as a dagger.  “Why?”

Once again faced with the eternal question, Solas sympathized with Dorian’s hasty retreat.  He knew the Tevinter mage was exceedingly fond of the serious, inquisitive girl, so she must have been at it for quite some time.  “Do you remember when your siblings were babies, da’len?  Did they often cry?”

“Mamae says babies are learning the world. It’s scary an’ new.  That’s why they cry.”

“What an excellent way to put it!” he agreed, not surprised that Inquisitor Mahariel had so concisely explained things to her daughter.  He had watched the way she spoke to her children, and it was much the same way she spoke to adults– simple, concise, and to the point.  “As we grow older, we learn there are many, many more things in the world than we ever knew.  There will always be new things to learn.”

Ada shot him a dubious look.  “Even Hahren?”

“Even Hahren,” he reassured her, finding that more true by the day.  “When you learn something new, do you like to share it with people?” He asked, already knowing the answer that her sturdy nod affirmed.  “When people feel things, they also like to share them.  That is what poems are for.”

“An’ babies?”

“When a baby is born, it only knows to cry when it is feeling new things, yes?”

“Yes,” Adaia said with a tinge of disgust.  She shook her head with a roll of her eyes, in a rather impressive mimicry of her father Darian.  “One time, one time Tamlen fell, but he wan’t hurt, an’ he cried anyways.  Cried an’ cried.”

“What did your parent do?” he inquired, rather than drawing her away from that tangent.

“Papa,” she corrected him firmly.  “He picked up Tamlen an’ he threw him in the air.”

It wasn’t the point he had been intending to make, but the da’len was, after all, only six years old, and there were limitations to a child’s comprehension.  “By throwing him in the air it made him happy.  Does looking at butterflies make you happy?”

Adaia’s lips pursed into a line as she seriously considered his question.  Her hands reached out, and she took the book from him again.  Solas relinquished it in silence, the pages rustling as Ada flipped through them.  He could practically see her putting together thoughts in her head, fitting together the pieces of their discussion into a wholly new conclusion.  It was a fascinating thing.

Granted, often the conclusion she came to…

“Poems are for reading when you crying,” she decided.

…was vastly different from the one he would expect.

“At times,” he agreed, fighting back the urge to try and explain the nuance to her.

“An’ you cry because things are un’aspected,” she finished.

Well.

That was a more insightful statement than he was anticipating.  “Yes.  When you feel new things, writing or reading a poem can help you learn about those feelings.  Do you understand?”

“I already know butterflies,” she decided, closing the book emphatically.  “It’s not un’aspected.”

“But do you know how to say how you feel when you see a butterfly?  Could you write a poem to tell me how you feel about butterflies?”

“Happy,” she said, closing the book emphatically.  “There!”

“Hmm?”

“There I said it,” Adaia declared, standing on her tip-toes to drop the book on his desk.  She dusted off her hands, and then thumped her fists on her hips.  “It’s easy, Hahren.”

Solas chuckled, amused.  “But could you say it in a poem, da’len?”

Ada stared at him, and then abruptly turned and bolted out of the rotunda, bare feet slapping across the floor.  In confusion, he watched the colorful little blur disappear.  Well.  Perhaps she’d tired of the conversation.  It had never happened before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

With a glance at the book of poetry, he went back to his own reading, shaking his head lightly.

He could not help but feel he’d done a poor job of explaining himself.

Solas had thought that was the end of the conversation, but after dinner a messy, wrinkled piece of paper had been left on his desk.  It appeared to have been written in charcoal, and a great many words had been smudged by a small hand.  Still, it was legible enough, and all the words were spelled correctly– likely someone had helped her.

It read:

There are butterflies in Amaranthine

They are white and some are blue

Daddy and Papa took me up up up the mountain

The butterflies are not here

The sky is blue

The clouds are white

I am only a little sad because

I can see the butterfly colors in the sky

There are no fireflies in the mountain

At night there are stars

So I will not cry

Solas read it over several times.  Strange, the sudden uneasiness he felt from the child’s simple, bare words.  It was an echo of the pain of many a long and sleepless night, thinking of what must be done, and what was to come for him, for this world...  

And for the shadows that remained.

A child’s innocent verse about missing butterflies should not rouse such emotion within him.  Unwilling to examine his own feelings, he put it away.  Still, it haunted him, and he went outside to clear his head in the night air, he stared at the stars that flickered in the darkness and thought of the shadows.  The echoes.

He felt things he was unwilling to feel.

Unexpected things.

It was an excellent poem.

#Solasfic #adaia tabris #not that anyone cares but #Inquisitor Mahariel isn't the Hero #Darian Tabris is #they're in a triad marriage with Zev :P #hey buddy the dinanshiral is a bad idea #just saaaaayin #out of the mouths of babes

[psalacanthea]

20 Lived-In OC Asks

asks for some of the little unimportant details that make up a person

What’s their night time routine like?  What’s their morning routine like?  Is there anything they have to do before going to sleep or facing the day?

Do they have a favorite chore?  Least favorite?

What is a smell that always brings up a memory for them, good or bad?

How do they de-stress when having a bad day?

What do they consider a ‘little luxury’?

Everyone has at least one harmless, inane thing that drives them absolutely bonkers.  What’s theirs?

What’s their favorite kind of weather, and what’s their favorite activity during it?

What’s their favorite thing to touch, be it with hands or feet?

If they were given a diary to fill out, would they keep up with it?  What would they write about?

 What is one thing they keep from their childhood/wish they had kept?

What’s their favorite scar, blemish, or quirk about their body?  What physical attribute makes them feel self-conscious?

 Is there anything non-sexual that feels intimate to them?  What is it?  Is it something they avoid, or something they reach for?

  Do they prefer socks, shoes, or bare feet?

 How do they prefer to bathe?  A quick shower, a long bath?  Alone, or with someone else?  Is it just a task for them, or is it a ritual?

 What noise do they hate?

 Do they over or under dress for the weather?  Do they run warmer or colder, and are they sensitive to it?

  Given a mixed-flavor bag of jellybeans (or equivalent treat), how would they eat them?  Would they pick out the flavors they like and eat the rest?  Do they do it by the handful, or one at a time?

 On a scale from knick-knack insanity to minimalist decor, where do they lie in the home decorating spectrum?

What tiny thing– be it skill, attribute, or ability– are they proud of?

 Do they believe foods should be strictly consumed in meal order/during a certain time of day, or are they eating chocolate cake for breakfast and scrambled eggs at 2am?

#OC asks #OCs: Zynatheri (BG3) #Darian Tabris (DAO) #Phoebe Cousland (DA:A) #Naomi Hawke (DA2) #Liana Mahariel (DAI) #pls feel free to reblog

[psalacanthea]

OC Tag Game!

Thanks @my-dumb-obsessions for tagging me! <3 I will tag @oxygenforthewicked in turn if you feel like doin' it.

Favorite OC: I don't really have one until someone tells me they don't like my character. Then it's that one. Because spite.

Newest OC: Zynatheri Rivati, the Silver Mockingbird. Baldur's Gate 3. Wandering Bard of a thousand voices and faces. None of them actually hers unless she has no choice. She's not nearly as cool as she makes herself sound.

Oldest OC: Probably Ellie Lavellan, my modern DA solavellan oc, since she went and got herself her own AU at some point. (that is what schooling pride is, an au of an older fic). She has Anxiety and worthiness issues and likes doing too much until she breaks down and has to be rescued from overextending herself (can't relate oh wait yes i can)

Meanest OC: Zyn. She's so disassociated from her own life that she finds it very very easy to be cruel and nasty. She tends to treat everyone like characters she's observing instead of people, which is very alienating and rude. It's a self-preservation instinct.

Softest OC: Darian Tabris. He's aggressive, loud, rude, and enthusiastic, but his heart is fucking enormous and he'd give his last dime and the food off his plate to anyone, friend or not. Because kindness is punk. But so is putting bricks through windows and trying to burn down the monarchy while they're literally helping you stop the blight.

Most Aloof/Standoffish OC: Lianalle Mahariel, by miles. She's extremely quiet, and while some people think she's shy, they'll quickly find out that it's genuine coldness and distance. She simply doesn't like most people, and has absolutely no qualms about not hiding it. She only really warms up for her husbands Zev and Tabris.

Dumbest (Affectionate) OC: Zyn. 100% Zyn. She gets herself out of every situation in her life by running away, charming someone, or making it worse until it explodes. Actually solving problems is beyond her. She just makes more. In her defense it's worked for a hundred years, so...

Smartest OC: Probably Phoebe Cousland, as far as straight intelligence goes. But her intelligence is strictly of the cerebral kind and is hyperfocused on cool gadgets, wisdom is kind of her dump stat. Sorry girl. As far as wits and wisdom go, that'd definitely be Lia Mahariel.

OC I'd Probably Be Friends With: Uh, Ellie, I guess? But I think I would find her a little exhausting she needs to smoke more elfroot.

#oc ask #me: let me tell you how shitty they all are! #lol #I don't love my OCs I tolerate them #(also love them)

[bluerose5]

With Open Arms

Debated on posting the full text here because this is long, even for me, but I decided to since all of my other ZevWarden works are fully here. One or two more one-shots planned, then onto Inquisition with Darrian. 🥰

Pairing: Darian Tabris/Zevran Arainai

Word Count: 7,461

Rating: M

Read it on ao3 here!

*****

For a moment, Darrian stood outside his home, staring unseeingly at the place where he grew up.

It was crazy how, even after he uncovered the slavery operation in the Alienage, everything still looked exactly the same.

Yet somehow, it all looked so different too.

He felt so distant from the man who was conscripted mere months ago. But strange enough, he still felt like that same scrawny, tearful little boy that would run home with scabby knees and dirty cheeks.

Even now, he could feel the ghost of his mother's hands on his face. How she would wipe away the smudges of dirt with her thumbs.

Darrian swallowed thickly, well-aware of his companions waiting patiently behind him.

When he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, Darrian steeled himself. He took a deep breath in through his nose, then out through his mouth.

As he stepped forward, his hand outstretched to open the door, it flung open of its own accord.

Soris stood on the other side, both he and Darrian staring at each other in surprise. As Soris appraised Darrian and his companions, taking in their current state, the tension in the air swelled and festered. It grew, spreading like an infection until there was no avoiding it.

It clung to Darrian’s skin like a leech, draining him of all his fight yet refusing to let go.

Whatever conclusion Soris arrived at, it was clear that he was less than impressed. A stark contrast to his warm welcome.

"Sor—"

Before Darrian could even get his name out, Soris cut him off, his words laced with bitterness.

"Once again, you're the big hero, Cousin." He stepped out of the house, shoving past him. "Must be nice, always winning."

All at once, Darrian’s breath left him. Each word lashed out at him with the punishing sting of a whip. His heart fell, stomach twisting into knots.

Alistair was the first of the group to recover from Soris's scathing words, and he didn't hesitate to speak up in Darrian’s defense.

"He is a hero," Alistair stated. He stepped up to Darrian's side, arms crossed over his chest.

Soris stopped. He turned to look back at them, his expression grim and distant.

His eyes met Darrian's, encountering golden irises where once the Warden sported a deep brown.

He looked at Darrian as if he was a complete stranger.

When had they grown so far apart?

"He used to be my hero," Soris whispered, turning on his heel with a shake of his head.

In the blink of an eye, Darrian followed after him.

"Wait!" He croaked out, his voice thick with emotion. "Cousin." He reached out and grabbed ahold of his arm. "Brother."

Instantly, Soris shook him off as if his very touch burned.

Rounding on Darrian with fire in his eyes, Soris clenched his jaw.

"Don't," Soris warned. He jabbed a finger into Darrian’s chest, ignoring how his companions tensed. "Don't you dare."

"I thought we were in this together," Darrian whispered, hurt and confused.

That was what they promised each other as kids, back when they were as thick as thieves. Now, there was a giant chasm resting between them that neither seemed to know how to mend.

Soris's gaze chilled over.

"You're kidding, right? We haven't been in this 'together' since you were conscripted. Maker, we haven't been in this together since you took the lead when we saved Shianni," Soris spat. "I warned you what would happen if you angered the humans, Darrian, but you were so bent on getting your damn revenge."

Anger seized Darrian by the throat. Red clouded his vision.

"Are you suggesting that this purge was my fault?"

"You know what happened to my parents," Soris said, "but you just had to have your way, damn the consequences. Right?"

"Well, you certainly had no issue in following me at the time," Darrian snapped, their voices growing louder and more heated by the second. When Zevran reached out, Darrian brushed off his touch, fixated only on Soris. "You don't get to play hero alongside me, then act as if I'm in the wrong."

"As if I had any choice!"

"I could've gone in by myself!"

"And you could have died, but no…" Soris sneered. "The infamous Darrian Tabris is invincible. Nothing and nobody can slay him."

"At least I would have died fighting for something worthwhile," Darrian declared, "than to die, accepting my fate. Accepting that this—" He gestured around them. "Is all there is to life. That we have to simply lie down and accept the fate that was forced on us for generations. No, I won't." Darrian shook his head in defiance, then paused, staring Soris down. "Can you say the same?"

Soris glowered, but a stern voice interrupted.

"Now, that's enough, you two," Shianni said, emerging from the house with Cyrion lingering behind her. His eyes darted between the two men, brow furrowed in concern. "Soris, please, go get our order from Alarith. I could still go with you, if you'd li—"

"I don't need your protection, Shianni," Soris sighed, rushing away in a huff before she could object. Darrian watched closely as Soris walked off with his head ducked and his shoulders hunched over protectively. As if he expected trouble the second he stepped out into the light. "I'll be back in a second."

Turning around the corner, Soris soon disappeared out of sight, leaving Darrian and the others standing there awkwardly outside of his home.

Eventually, Cyrion cleared his throat. He carefully shuffled past Shianni, beaming joyously as he approached Darrian with his arms spread wide.

"My son," he whispered, and that was all it took to sap Darrian of all his strength.

Stumbling forward, his knees buckled, but Cyrion was more than happy to close the distance.

"Papa," Darrian murmured, not having used that term in years. Nowadays, it was always 'Dad,' but there was something almost liberating about calling him that now. "Papae."

With one final step, they fell into each other's arms.

They embraced one another, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. Together, they sank to the ground on their knees, unable to keep themselves standing upright when faced with the weight of all that has happened.

Silent tears streamed down their cheeks, but neither of them brought attention to it.

Just as Cyrion made a point not to mention the changes in Darrian’s appearance, merely happy to have his son back at home.

In spite of their tears, they managed a couple of laughs through the sobs, relieved beyond belief.

In time, Cyrion pulled back to take Darrian’s face in hand.

"Here," he said, eyes red and puffy. "Let me have a look at you."

That sole look was enough to have him frowning in disapproval.

"Maker!" he exclaimed. He turned Darrian's face this way and that. "Don't they feed you Wardens?"

Darrian chuckled, grateful when he felt fingers wipe his tears away.

"When Alistair's the one doing the cooking," Darrian whispered, smirking playfully, "you tend not to take heavier portions."

"Hey!" Alistair pouted. "We can all hear you, you know."

"Oh, I know," Darrian stated, which only served to get a huff out of Alistair. 

That was when Cyrion remembered their audience.

"Ah! How rude of me," he said. Darrian slowly helped him to his feet. "Son, why don't you introduce us to your friends?"

"Right," Darrian eyed the others, who watched him expectantly in return. "Well, this is only three of them. The rest are back at Arl Eamon's estate."

"Arl Eamon?" Shianni asked, raising an eyebrow at that. "Moving up in the world, aren't ya, Cousin?"

He rolled his eyes at her.

"Anyways," he said, trying his best to divert the attention away from himself. "Papa, Shianni. These are the people helping me put an end to the Blight." He paused, lips quirked up into a gentle smile. "And some of my closest friends." He gestured to them as he spoke. "This is Alistair, my fellow Grey Warden."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Alistair said. Bowing slightly at the waist, he nodded at Shianni as well. "Miss."

Darrian continued, "And this is Senior Enchanter Wynne of the Circle of Magi."

Although Cyrion wrinkled his nose ever so slightly at the mention of the Circle, he otherwise didn't comment on it. Wynne, thankfully, was none the wiser.

Instead, she glanced pointedly at Darrian, her expression fond.

"It's nice to meet you all. Darrian is a bright young man, so it's our pleasure to see where he comes from and to meet the people who helped forge him into the man he is today."

“Well, we can’t take all the credit for that,” Cyrion told her. “I reckon that you lot have had an influence on him, too.”

“Hopefully not too bad of one,” Shianni teased.

“Like you have room to talk,” Darrian muttered. Shianni stuck her tongue out at him, but he ignored her, suddenly nervous as he turned to Zevran, who had been uncharacteristically quiet up until that point. Darrian stepped back. Taking his place at his side, he wrapped his arm around Zevran’s waist. Both Shianni and Cyrion watched them questioningly. “Last but not least, this is Zevran Arainai, formerly of the Antivan Crows.” Better to be honest, after all. They would learn the truth of his profession eventually. “He’s my, well—”

Darrian felt his face heat up, never having brought someone home before to meet the family. He had to admit that it was surprisingly a lot of pressure.

“My…”

What should he even say? ‘Lover’ was much too casual to describe what they were at this point in their relationship —plus, that wasn’t really something Darrian would want to label anyone as when talking to his family— but ‘partner’ felt too formal. ‘Betrothed’ would probably be more accurate to their current situation, but that would imply they are to be husbands. And Darrian wouldn’t want to put that sort of pressure onto Zevran.

When he trailed off, he took a deep breath and glanced at the Crow in question.

Their eyes met, and it was as if everything fell perfectly into place in that single moment.

Darrian pushed aside his nerves, if only for the time being.

He took Zevran’s hand in his.

Once their fingers intertwined, everything else in the world melted away around them.

Darrian’s heart sang with joy.

The words came smoothly then.

“He is my other half,” Darrian breathed.

Cupping Zevran’s cheek, Darrian rested his forehead against his. Zevran melted against him, leaning eagerly into his touch.

While they remained fixated on each other, Shianni nudged Cyrion to get his attention, nodding pointedly at Darrian. Cyrion followed where her eyes were trained. Then, he blinked.

But the glint of light didn’t go away.

Darrian, much like his mother, viewed jewelry with the significance that only a Rivaini could.

The jeweled earring that adorned his right ear was the only piercing on that one, obviously given a special place all on its own.

If Darrian was so serious that he would accept such a gift…

Cyrion focused on steadying his breathing, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of emotions.

Above all else, though, all he felt was relief.

Relief and happiness.

Clearing his throat, Cyrion snapped the couple out of their trance.

He smiled at all of them in welcome.

“I wish you would’ve told me about all of this sooner,” he laughed amicably. “I would have tidied up the place. Ah, well, what’s done is done.” Stepping forward, he surprised them all by hugging each and every one of them, lingering slightly longer than the others when he wrapped both Darrian and Zevran into a tight, bone-crushing hug. When he released them, he chuckled at Darrian’s sheepish grin, Zevran gaping at the affection. “If it wasn’t obvious by now, I’m Cyrion Tabris, Darrian’s father and one of the elders of this here Alienage. Shianni is my niece and Darrian’s cousin, but also part of the Alienage’s self-appointed guard.”

“Not that the shems recognize our authority here,” she sighed, leaning against the doorframe to Cyrion’s home. She shot Alistair and Wynne a wary glance. “Uh, no offense.”

“None taken,” Wynne said, to which Alistair voiced his agreement. “I imagine living here has its fair share of difficulties like most other places.”

“Yet there is beauty to be found here as well,” Cyrion replied, “believe it or not.” He stood tall with his head held high with pride, hands clasped together in front of him. “Now, if you will, perhaps some of you can go fetch the others. I absolutely have to make sure you all get a decent, home-cooked meal before you go back to fighting darkspawn and what-not.”

“Oh,” Alistair said, startled by such an offer. “We don’t mean to trouble you.”

“But if you insist,” Wynne interrupted, knowing exactly what Cyrion was hinting at. “Then Alistair and I shall go clean up at the estate and retrieve the others for dinner.”

“We will?” Alistair asked, stunned by this sudden turn of events.

Wynne simply nodded.

“Come now, young man,” she scolded. She hooked her arm through his, all but hauling him away from the Tabris household. “We need to get going if we’re to be back on time for dinner. I will not suffer cold food because you want to drag your feet.”

Alistair grumbled but quickly acquiesced, escorting Wynne out of the Alienage.

Then, there were four, but Cyrion wasted no time before he was waving them along to go inside.

“Alright, I’ve had my fill of fresh air for today,” he said. “Let’s let you two freshen up, and we’ll get started on dinner.”

Zevran stopped short at that.

“‘We’?” he questioned.

Shianni eyed him with a smirk.

“Everyone helps out with cooking and chores around here. Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Plan on poisoning us or something?”

Darrian grimaced when Cyrion snorted.

“Not today,” Zevran deadpanned.

“Darrian’s survived this long,” Cyrion joked, squeezing by Shianni in order to enter their home. His voice filtered outside from within. “Perhaps we should have him test our food before we eat.”

“Not you, too,” Darrian groaned.

Shianni happily snickered at his expense.

“Shouldn’t have waited until now to tell us that you’re in a relationship,” she chimed in a sing-song tone.

“There hasn’t really been an opportune time,” Darrian muttered, “what with everything else going on.”

“Oh, puh-lease, Cousin.” Shianni huffed at him with her hands on her hips. “As if you couldn’t have sent us a letter at least telling us you were alive, let alone in bed with a Crow.”

“Shianni…” he warned, but that was a warning that she gladly didn’t heed.

“Imagine the letters you could have written!” she exclaimed. “I bet you would’ve been just as bad as you were when you pined after the seamstress’s son.” As if to make matters worse, she raised the pitch of her voice, placing the back of her hand against her head as she pretended to swoon, catching herself against the doorway. “‘Shianni, he’s so beautiful and charming. How his eyes sparkle like gems, and he has the most sensitive soul.’”

Before she could spout another word, Darrian rushed at her, causing her to squeal as he chased her into the house. Zevran watched after them in amusement before he eventually followed them inside.

By the time he crossed the threshold, the two cousins were wrestling in and out of each other’s grasps, struggling to gain the upperhand as they fought their way from one end of the house to the other. Cyrion continued to gather ingredients for dinner, paying the two no mind as he sidestepped them with ease.

“Either of you break anything, and you’ll be replacing it,” he said, as if he was casually discussing the weather. When he spotted Zevran lingering at the door, he waved him over. “Come on in, son. Feel free to lock up behind you.”

For a moment, it took Zevran some time to process the fact that Cyrion so calmly called him ‘son.’ It could just be what Cyrion called most men who were younger than him, but the word still hit Zevran like a punch to the gut.

After all, when was the last time —if ever— that he had been a ‘son’ to anybody?

Nevertheless, he did as he was told, approaching the table cautiously after securing the latch on the door.

Shianni finally managed to get Darrian into a chokehold, tightening her grip the second she had him at her mercy.

Of course, Zevran knew that Darrian could free himself if he so wished, having to remind himself that they were only playing around for the most part.

“Damn, Cousin,” Darrian wheezed. “You’ve been training?”

“Someone had to pick up the slack without you around.” She flexed her arm, effectively squeezing his neck once more. “Give in yet?”

“Alright, you two.” Cyrion rolled his eyes. “Enough roughhousing. Shianni, let Darrian go, so he can actually make himself presentable before our company arrives.”

“Ugh.” Releasing Darrian, she grumbled. “Saved by Uncle yet again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep whining, brat.”

When they started to bicker, Cyrion released a long, drawn-out sigh, staring unseeingly into the distance.

“It’s like having kids run amok.” Separating the prep into thirds, he gathered up the ingredients and spread them out onto the table. “Shianni, prep. Now. Darrian, go wash up and get into something other than your armor for Maker’s sake.”

Darrian poked his lip out into a pout.

“What about Zevran?” he asked, gesturing in his direction. “He’s in his armor, too.”

“I swear,” Shianni muttered, “if you suggest he help you get clean, I’m going to hurl.”

Cyrion tossed Darrian a stern look.

“He’ll get his chance to bathe after you’re done,” Cyrion stated, fetching the sharpest knives from their worn-out cutlery. “So you might as well get going and get it over with.” 

“But it’s not like this house is all that private,” Darrian countered, “so of course we’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Yeah,” Shianni scoffed, “like we’ll believe that load of nugshit.”

Darrian looked to Zevran for help, but Zevran threw his hands up in surrender.

“No, no, no,” Zevran chuckled. “I am not getting on your father’s bad side the first time we meet. It is his house, no? His house. His rules.”

Cyrion nodded in approval.

“Smart man.”

At Darrian’s scathing glare, Zevran quickly reminded him, “It is common courtesy, amor.”

“Yeah, because you’re all about courtesy,” Darrian said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“I am nothing, if not the ideal gentleman,” Zevran agreed, winking playfully. “Now, shoo. Go make yourself presentable so that I may fawn over how handsome my dear Warden is.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Darrian teased, instantly disappearing out of sight.

Cyrion tsked at that.

“Should’ve known he would listen to you.”

He took a seat at the table with Shianni and waved Zevran forward. When Zevran joined them, Cyrion passed him a bowl of lukewarm water to clean his hands with, along with a pile of herbs and vegetables to cut and dice. Zevran carefully peeled off the Dalish gloves that Darrian had gotten him, setting them aside in order to wash his hands free of any lingering dirt and grime.

As they set to work on their assigned tasks, Cyrion paused, considering how best to broach the subject.

Eventually, he decided to address the obvious tension.

“I hope that you do not fault Soris for what was said earlier,” Cyrion started.

Shianni glanced up at him, then averted her eyes, listening yet not participating in the discussion for the moment.

Zevran pursed his lips.

“His words hurt Darrian,” he stated, but Cyrion didn’t deny it.

Instead, he nodded. The wrinkles around his eyes grew deeper, more pronounced with sorrow.

“Yes,” he murmured, “they did, but sometimes people say hurtful things to people that they love in the midst of grief. I know this does not excuse Soris’s actions or his words, but I hope that it encourages understanding.”

“Understanding?”

“See it from his perspective,” Cyrion explained. “Until recently, we all thought that Darrian died at Ostagar. Everyone in the Alienage turned to Soris to blame for the purge, and his wife was sent to ‘quarantine’ a week or so ago. Now, Darrian’s not only back from the dead, but he also brought news that those who went to quarantine —Soris’s wife included— were shipped off to Tevinter as slaves. For so long, Soris was burned at the stake for crimes that both of them committed in good faith, but now he has to watch as Darrian is uplifted as the Alienage’s hero with very little backlash in comparison.”

“That, and you have to factor in the whole guilt aspect as well,” Shianni whispered. “Most people here are asking ourselves, ‘Was there something more that I could have done? Was I just blind to what was really going on out of fear? What if Darrian had come sooner? Could he have saved more? Could we have saved more?’”

“Not very fair to ask that of the man who is busy trying to save everyone from the Blight,” Zevran noted, slicing through the vegetables with more force than necessary.

“No,” Cyrion agreed, “it’s not, but unfortunately fairness —or the lack thereof— won’t stop people from thinking that way.”

True enough.

“But I didn’t want to talk solely about Soris,” Cyrion said, brushing several silver strands of hair out of his eyes. At Zevran’s guarded expression, Cyrion laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you about your ‘intentions’ with my son, nor will I threaten you with bodily harm.”

“Although, I might,” Shianni admitted.

“I do so love a warm welcome,” Zevran hummed in response, “especially one that keeps things interesting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyways,” Cyrion drawled, reeling the conversation back in, “as I was saying before, I’m not the type to try and intimidate people into staying together. I’m a healer, after all. It’s in my nature to be nurturing and supportive, rather than forceful; but that being said, I do still love and care about my family above all else. Darrian especially. All I have are simple questions and simple requests.”

“Then, ask away,” Zevran said. “I have nothing to hide.”

Or so he led others to believe.

What he didn’t expect was for Cyrion to ask, “Are you happy, Zevran?”

Zevran blinked owlishly at that.

“What?”

“Like I said, a simple question,” Cyrion repeated, slowly enunciating each word. “Does Darrian make you happy?”

When rephrased in such a way, Zevran’s response was instant.

“Yes. Of course.”

“And do you make Darrian happy?"

"I would like to think so," Zevran answered, but even he sometimes doubted himself in that regard.

After all, when Darrian could have any person he wanted, why settle for Zevran?

But those doubts were for another day.

"Trust me," Shianni snorted. "You make him happy."

"He does seem to light up when you're around," Cyrion said, well-aware that Darrian might be listening in at that exact moment. Still, there was more to discuss, so he couldn't let the possibility of eavesdropping stop him now. "Which now leads me to my request."

"Go on," Zevran encouraged, curious about where this was headed.

Cyrion collected his thoughts, then set his share of the prep aside. He leaned forward, meeting Zevran’s eyes with a rather serious look of his own.

Zevran gave him his undivided attention.

"My request," Cyrion stated, "is that you two continue to make each other happy. Which, now that I think about it, might not always be as simple as I let on."

Even Shianni stopped what she was doing, both of the younger elves watching their elder as he transformed his thoughts into words.

"I—" Cyrion frowned to himself, but pressed on. "I thought that I knew what was best for Darrian at one point in time. I thought that I knew what would make him happy. I had it all set up. His marriage. His future here. I thought that I knew it all because I—" He clenched his jaw, working past the tremor in his voice. "I believed that, so long as he was safe and with us, he could need nothing and no one else."

"Uncle," Shianni whispered, but he held a hand up. He glanced her way, silently pleading with her to let him speak.

She backed down, watching him sadly.

He turned back to Zevran and explained, "When I lost Adaia, for so long, I felt as if Darrian was all that I had left in the world. I poured my heart and soul into raising him, and perhaps I held on too tight. He and his mother are cut from the same cloth, you see. Fierce, passionate, protective, romantic…" Cyrion trailed off, staring knowingly at Zevran. "Although, I have a feeling that I don't need to tell you that."

Zevran smiled to himself, his expression fond as he thought about his Warden.

"He is rather remarkable," Zevran said. "But yes, I am familiar with his many virtues, probably more so than most."

"Then, you would understand fully when I say that, in spite of their many similarities, Darrian is very different from his mother as well," Cyrion claimed. "When I met his mother, Adaia had already seen a lot of the world. She had already traveled to many places, explored to her heart's content. When we fell in love, she was in a place where she was looking for stability. She needed a safe harbor to call home, a place outside of Rivain that she knew that she could always come back to. I'm only grateful that she found such a place here with me."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Zevran stated.

Cyrion nodded, laughing under his breath.

"But, Darrian isn't looking for stability," Cyrion told him. "He's looking for excitement and adventure beyond these walls. He's looking for—"

"Freedom," Zevran finished, understanding entirely.

Cyrion didn't say anything, but he didn’t need to. They all knew that Zevran hit the nail on the head.

After taking a few deep breaths, Cyrion forced himself to voice what really has been plaguing his conscience, his hands balled into fists in his lap.

"All I could think about, when I heard news of what happened at Ostagar, wasn't whether he died with 'glory' or 'honor.'" Cyrion scowled at the idea, as if that would somehow lessen the impact of Darrian’s death. "No, all I could think about was had my son died, living an unfulfilled life because I kept him imprisoned here." Cyrion sighed, taking a moment to massage his temples while he helplessly laid out his concerns. "Or better yet, did he despise me for it?"

"Dad."

No one was surprised when Darrian chose then to emerge from the shadows.

Zevran took the opportunity to look him over. While the outfit itself was threadbare, nothing more than a simple pair of trousers and a shirt, it was obvious that —despite Cyrion’s earlier comments— Darrian had put on some weight and muscle from his time as a Warden.

The fabric strained as Darrian filled it out, appearing too small in some places more than others. 

Still, even Zevran had to admit that he seemed comfortable in that attire, cozy even.

Darrian dropped to his knees at Cyrion’s side, waiting for his father to meet his eyes before speaking.

"I could never despise you," Darrian whispered, his voice heated with disgust at the thought alone. "Never." He took Cyrion's hands in his with a tight squeeze. "You are my father, and you have given me the best life you could, and I will always love you for that and so much more."

Shianni reached out, resting her hand atop of theirs.

"Just as Soris and I will always love you for being a father to us as well, Uncle." She smiled softly. "You didn't have to take us in, but you did anyways. You gave us all a family and a home."

Cyrion swallowed thickly, but eventually choked out a quiet "thank you," bordering on a sob.

Zevran shuffled in place, feeling as if he was intruding on an intimate moment not meant for his eyes.

Shoving away from the table, the others jolted at his abrupt movement. Thankfully, he was able to catch his chair before it crashed to the floor, righting it before turning back to them.

Zevran started to wring his hands together.

The atmosphere was becoming a bit overbearing in a way he was unfamiliar with. This —all of this, whatever it was— was foreign terrain to him. Waters that he didn't know how to navigate.

And while he was happy to see his beloved Warden reunited with his family, Zevran couldn't help but feel as if he was sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Clearing his throat, Zevran forced the words out through the lump in his throat.

"Do you mind if I go get cleaned up now?" he asked, plastering a smile on his face. Not that Darrian bought the facade for a second, brow furrowed in concern. "We so seldom get the chance for a proper bath on the road, so I'm more than happy to take advantage of the luxury while we are here in the city."

Cyrion nodded, swiping at his eyes with calloused hands.

"Yes, yes, of course." He chuckled, albeit shakily. "Please, by all means, help yourself."

As Zevran started to walk past them, he stopped short when he reached Darrian’s side.

Darrian stood up, his eyes trained on Zevran.

Zevran didn't know what came over him. 

Perhaps it was the warmth and comfort of Cyrion’s home. Perhaps it was the security of being in a place where he knew that Darrian was accepted without restraint. Maybe it was the love that radiated around them, accepting and supportive.

Whatever it was, it caused Zevran to let his guard down, to speak freely in a way that he hadn't before.

He didn't once look away from Darrian as he said, "In response to your earlier 'request,' Cyrion, I will remain at Darrian’s side for as long as he will have me." Zevran reached out to cup Darrian's cheek. "And I can only hope that, in doing so, that I can make him as happy as he has made me."

Leaning in, Zevran briefly pecked Darrian on the lips, parting with him to go into the next room.

Darrian had thankfully gathered up all he needed for his bath, along with a fresh pair of clothes, presumably Darrian’s.

As Zevran set to work on cleaning himself, he tried not listen too closely to the murmurs drifting in from the main room. After all they had discussed, he knew that Darrian and Cyrion needed to have a serious heart-to-heart, focusing instead on the rough texture of the rag that he dragged along his body.

While he wasn't going to be smelling of lavender or roses anytime soon, Zevran was simply happy to have fresh soap and warm water.

Being on the run, he'd take his victories where he could.

By the time he had finished up, he tugged on Darrian’s shirt and pants, ignoring the atrocious shades of brown in favor of savoring the feel and smell of Darrian around him.

Of course, the clothes hung a bit looser on his frame, longer on his limbs than on Darrian’s, but Zevran still adored that sensation of drowning in Darrian’s clothes. Something so personal and intimate, shared between them both.

After he carefully stashed his armor away, along with his gloves, he slipped on his leather boots and joined the others again in the main room.

Remnants of tension still lingered; but overall, everyone was back in good spirits.

Together, they made a hearty vegetable stew that filled their small house with a mouthwatering aroma.

It wasn't long before Soris returned with a pack filled with goods. He avoided Darrian for a while, but both of them eventually settled into a silent agreement to keep things civil. Their interactions were few yet cordial, keeping the peace for Cyrion’s sake, if nothing else.

Then, the others arrived just in time for dinner.

Surprisingly enough, everyone joined them for the night. It was a tight squeeze, but they made it work.

Cyrion played the gracious host, even when faced with Darrian’s… diverse group of friends.

Safe to say, he was pleasantly surprised that Shale was able to settle in comfortably enough. That is, without destroying his roof in the process.

After another round of introductions, Cyrion served up dinner to anyone who wanted it. They all indulged themselves with good food and drink, the latter being a courtesy of Shianni's personal stores.

It took a while for everyone to warm up to one another, but the conversations soon flowed with ease.

Cyrion told lively stories about raising Darrian, Shianni, and Soris. Describing with great detail all the trouble they used to get up to. Occasionally, one of the three would chime in, mostly to protest when they were embarrassed.

As expected, Leliana soon pulled out her lute, accompanying their dinner with a bit of music that lingered in the background.

When the stories became too much to bear, Soris quickly chimed in and found them a deck of cards, dealing in Darrian, Cyrion, Wynne, and Zevran at first. After a round or two of Wicked Grace passed by, Sten and Shale both spoke up, expressing their desire to join in as well.

Soris blinked owlishly at first but worked them into the next hand. Coin exchanged hands, and they were back at it again.

Morrigan watched everyone else from afar as always, reading through her grimoire by the fire while Alistair played with Ser Barkolomew close by.

Once Shianni realized that trying to outdrink Oghren was a futile effort indeed, she turned her attention to Leliana instead.

At first, she mentioned something to Leliana about her hair; but before they knew it, Shianni was asking about her songs, which then turned into Leliana telling her some of her greatest tales as a bard.

Zevran didn't want to comment on it at the time, but the two seemed to really get along great.

Imagine Zevran’s surprise when Soris blindsided him with a question out of the blue.

"So, Zevran…" Soris drawled, trailing off as Cyrion took his turn.

Zevran cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Yes?" he asked.

Soris gestured between him and Darrian.

"I hope this is not too forward of me to ask, but how did you two meet?"

Darrian, the poor soul, was taking a swig of ale when Soris asked the question, choking on it as soon as he processed what Soris had said.

Cyrion watched him, concerned as he patted his back.

Zevran pursed his lips, but Alistair being Alistair decided to answer for him.

"Oh, you know," he drawled, casually scratching Ser Bark behind the ears. "He tried to kill us."

"He what?!" the three other Tabrises yelled.

“Well, it was nothing personal at the time,” Zevran said with a shrug, knowingly adding fuel to the fire.

Darrian chuckled sheepishly.

“Heh, on that note, would you look at the time?” he stated, jumping to his feet as his companions watched on in amusement.

“Darrian Tabris,” Cyrion scolded.

If looks could kill…

“What does he mean he tried to—”

“Come on, Zev. Let’s go,” Darrian interrupted, taking Zevran by the hand on his way out the door. There was something tucked underneath his other arm, but Zevran couldn’t get a good glimpse of it.

Nevertheless, Zevran went along willingly enough, but he couldn’t hide his delight at this turn of events.

“Aww, but my dear, do you not want to share the story?”

“Not today,” Darrian wheezed, barely holding it together by the time they made it outside.

Once they were certain that they were far enough away from the house, they erupted into a fit of laughter, both of them clinging to each other as tears slid down their cheeks.

“How did you—” Zevran struggled to catch his breath through each chuckle. “Did you not tell them before now?”

“Listen,” Darrian huffed, unable to suppress his mischievous grin. “I thought that it was obvious. Why else would I have an Antivan Crow in my company, especially when the only two Wardens left in Ferelden have huge bounties on our heads?”

“Maybe they thought you hired me,” Zevran suggested.

“That would imply that I had the kind of coin to afford you when we first met,” Darrian countered, “which I didn’t.”

“Fair point, but it could’ve been wishful thinking on their part.”

“That’s true.”

“Well,” Zevran sighed, “there goes my wonderful first impression.”

“Give it some time,” Darrian assured him. “My father adores you. He’ll simply need time to process and come to terms with how we met.”

“Right.”

Lacing their fingers closer together, both of them strolled through the Alienage hand-in-hand.

Darrian greeted a few of the night owls that roamed about, nodding amicably to some of the elves on patrol.

For that one night, all was peaceful.

The calm before the storm.

“At least everyone seemed to be getting along well enough,” Zevran noted.

Darrian nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it’s nice to have all of the people that I care for together in one place,” he said, leaning in to whisper playfully. “Plus, Sten is going to love my dad when he realizes that he has sweets to share.”

Zevran tsked, feigning disappointment with a shake of his head. “Using a man’s weakness against him like that?”

“Don’t play coy,” Darrian teased. Swiftly, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss beneath Zevran’s ear, lingering longer than he initially intended. Warm breath tickled along Zevran’s neck, sending a shiver shooting down his spine. “You like it when I do.”

“And they call me dangerous,” Zevran laughed, breathless.

Instinctively, he pressed closer to Darrian’s side.

Moonlight bathed them in a gentle, blue glow. As they approached the vhenadahl, light had to filter through the tree’s massive branches, casting shadows upon them both.

It was in those shadows that they looked upon the candles and the offerings left at the tree’s base.

Darrian wrapped an arm around Zevran —who then, in turn, buried himself into Darrian’s embrace.

They held on tight, refusing to let go.

Every so often, the light would play off their eyes, flashing brightly in the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, Darrian released Zevran with great effort. He turned to him beneath the vhenadahl, so Zevran did the same, following his lead as they faced each other.

Darrian turned his thoughts over in his mind, over and over again until he could put them into words.

"I apologize," he whispered.

Zevran raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"For…?" He trailed off, hoping that Darrian could fill in the blanks.

"For not telling you about my betrothal," he answered. "About Nesiara."

Zevran released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, having expected something worse than that.

"Well, I must admit," Zevran said, "the revelation certainly caught me by surprise."

"I hope you know that I wasn't trying to keep it a secret. So much has happened since that day." Darrian chuckled bleakly. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

"Look, you don't have to—"

"But I do." When Zevran fell silent, Darrian swallowed thickly. "I need you to know, so that there will be no secrets between us."

Hesitant yet curious, Zevran eventually nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"When I—When I was Conscripted, it was on the day of my wedding," Darrian explained. "And yes, the match was arranged by our parents, but that didn't matter to me at the time. Back then, I had accepted my lot in life. I had accepted that such a simple life was the best I was gonna get. Nesiara was a kind, beautiful woman, and I thought myself to be lucky."

It might not have been perfect, but it was something.

"Soris and I were heading out to take our places, and then…" Darrian's expression darkened, filled with a murderous rage unlike Zevran had ever seen before. "Vaughan, the former arl's son. He marched in here with a few of his friends. They took our women, and I—I couldn't stop them."

As he choked on the words, Darrian’s expression grew haunted, always fluctuating between anger and guilt.

Then, his gaze set itself with a steely determination, gritting his teeth all the while.

"When I awoke, Duncan provided Soris and I with weapons."

"And did you…?" Truthfully, Zevran already knew how this story would end.

Darrian gave a curt nod.

"I killed them all," he breathed, "but not before they killed one of our own. Not before they hurt others."

Darrian wouldn't dare single out Shianni. That wasn't his story to share, growing sick to his stomach even thinking about it.

"That’s not your fault," Zevran said. "I'm certain you did everything you could."

"I know," Darrian murmured. "Trust me, one doesn't simply go through the Gauntlet without confronting such truths about themselves."

"Isn't that the truth," Zevran grumbled.

Huffing out a breath of a laugh, Darrian revealed the package that was underneath his arm, holding it out on display between them.

"Even if I might be too hard on myself sometimes, I promised myself that day that I wouldn't ever let the people I love get hurt like that again. It was a close call with my father, but I have the chance to make things right."

Carefully, he unwrapped the flimsy paper from around his gift.

In the end, he revealed a sleek, elegant dagger, crafted from the finest dragonbone with a wicked curve to its blade.

Along its hilt, written in Elvish, read the words: Never again shall we submit.

Lyrium flowed through the blade itself, a variety of runes etched into its surface.

Darrian stared at the blade with bated breath, reverent of what it represented.

"This was my mother's dagger," he whispered, feeling connected to her, even now. "The Fang of Fen'Harel, they call it."

"Fen'Harel," Zevran repeated, brow furrowed as he tried to recall what he learned of the Creators from the Clan he stayed with. "The trickster god."

"Or the god of rebellion," Darrian stated. "Of freedom, depending on who you're asking." He marveled at the blade, testing its weight in his grasp. "My mother said that there are about as many opinions about him and his purpose in the pantheon as there are Clans."

"As expected when it comes to religion," Zevran muttered.

Darrian snickered.

"Yeah, but real or not, the god doesn't matter so much as what this dagger symbolizes," Darrian remarked. "It was first used in the battles to save the Dales. My ancestors wielded it in order to protect their home, just as all who came after them. Just as my mother, who came before me."

"And now it is yours," Zevran noted.

"And now it is mine." Darrian carefully wrapped it up once more. "I will use it to protect my family. To protect my home." He reached out, brushing his fingers along the outline of Zevran’s cheek. "To protect you."

"Darrian…"

"Zevran," he stated, easing closer. "My family already knows that, although I will always love them more than anything, I won't be returning to stay at the Alienage, not after I've gotten a taste of the world that lies beyond these walls."

"What are you saying, my dear?" Zevran asked, feeling his heart race within his chest.

"What I'm saying is that you, Zevran Arainai, you are my home." He settled his hands on Zevran’s waist, his dagger pressed against his side. "Wherever you go, take me with you."

"Hey," Zevran protested, albeit weakly. "That's my line."

Darrian gave a watery laugh, leaning his forehead against Zevran’s. Their noses bumped playfully against each other.

"You'll have to share then." Darrian sighed, staring deep into his eyes. "And know that, no matter what we face next —whether it be the Blight, the Landsmeet, or the Archdemon— I will gladly face it, so long as we are together."

How easily he made Zevran melt with such honeyed words and sweet declarations.

For once, he wanted to return the favor in kind.

Wrapping his arms around Darrian’s shoulders, Zevran held him close.

"For the chance to be at your side," Zevran breathed, "I would storm the Dark City itself. Never doubt it."

Darrian didn't waste a single second, sealing their lips into a kiss.

Only when they parted did he gasp out.

"I love you."

And this time, Zevran didn't even hesitate.

"I love you, too."

#dragon age #dragon age origins #zevran arainai #male warden #darrian tabris #zevwarden #male tabris #cyrion tabris #soris tabris #shianni tabris #bluerose writes

[silvanils]

Happy Friday! I hear you want fluff. I am happy to oblige. Tabris/Zevran, “All my choices lead me to you.”

@dadrunkwriting

Thank you so much for sending this! It inspired SUCH FLUFF!

Rating: G Wordcount: 330

It is early, the first crack of dawn barely breaking over the sea. Cool air drifts in through the open window. It feels good, compared to the heat the days have brought recently --- all Darian can do is thank the gods they are not spending this summer in Antiva.

He thinks Antiva is a lovely country, and he loves Zevran --- but he was relieved Zevran decided they were long overdue for a visit to Denerim... and he is glad they made it in time for Summersday, which had always been one of Darian's favorite holidays.

Now, he had one more reason to love it: they had managed to sneak their names onto the list of couples seeking a Mother's blessing during the festivities, and Darian knew he would never forget the look of surprise and amusement on his father's face when they told him.

"Well, I knew it would happen eventually."

He hums softly when he feels his husband shift in his arms, and Zevran mumbles a sleepy ...amor? as Darian kisses his shoulder. A few minutes pass, and Zevran's eyes grow a little brighter even as the sun begins to peek over the horizon in earnest.

"...You have a glow about you this morning, tesoro. And I don't think it's just from the sunlight, mm?"

Darian flashes Zevran a bright grin. "No. I was just thinking about... us. What an odd pair we make, and yet... how right everything feels, too. Like all of my choices... led me to you. To this moment we're sharing right now."

Zevran laughs, letting his head fall against Darian's chest. He is warm, but that feels good, too. "Ah, I should have known. You are always so philosophical in the mornings. But I --- I think I understand. My choices all led me to you as well, didn't they? Even the foolish ones."

They both know which one Zevran is referring to, and Darian can't help but laugh along with the assassin.

"Especially the foolish ones.”

#da drunk writing circle #zevran x warden #zevran x tabris #zevran x m!tabris #;Dirk Tabris #;Dirk/Zevran #dragon age #dragon age origins #;knight writes

[psalacanthea]

Wip Wednesday

I don’t know if you’ve been tagged, but @oxygenforthewicked and @kirkwalls-dumbest pls join me should you feel like it!  Here’s a bit of OT3 DA:0 for fun!

...

Focusing on her duty, Liana shadowed the riot for another ten minutes, hanging onto the occasional scrap of Derry's voice in the far distance echoing back.  It was hard to hear over the noise, but it had become so familiar to her that somehow she could still find him.  Every time he spoke she felt it, somewhere deep in her chest. He was safe.

His name flickered across the screen of her phone as it picked up his name in every feed.  Photos, videos, moments of fire and death and love captured and sent across the whole of Thedas.  Their boy, their hero.

Darian Tabris, the real Hero of Ferelden.

He was safe.

With a long breath, she tried to clear her head and her heart.

The only altercation she ran into in those last few minutes was one already half-finished, a small cluster of Jennies taking down a few people they claimed were trying to incite violence.  At this point, as much as it pained her to say, it didn't matter if they were paid provocateurs or opportunists.  A good beating would get rid of them regardless.  They were spread too thin for nuance.

At least they didn't kill them, unlike the assassins.

After the fight was over, she found the intersection for her meeting.  Arriving before Zevran, Lia calmed her mind and tried her best not to pace.  Instead she finished her water bottle and chewed on a few dried apricots, for the sugar and for something to do.  The night was far from over.

“Incoming.”

The warning was necessary, because even so she startled when Zevran dropped down from a roof behind her.  Spinning, she was bringing up her hands to defend herself when he abruptly snagged her out of the shadows, pulling her in by the elbow.  Shocked, she was stiff and still as he hugged her, his arms winding tightly around her.  He kissed the top of her head.

It took a second or two, but when she breathed in a shudder and the stiff panic faded, the hug tightened.  

“He is safe.  You are safe.  We are safe,” he told her quietly, and she could hear from the small catch in his voice that the hug wasn't only for her.

Clutching at his back, she returned it fiercely.  One breath, two, and then she pulled back from him with a firm nod.  It was only a small reprieve, but it helped calm the tempest inside of her for now.  There would be no relief until she had them both, but this was enough for the deed that must be done.

“It would be best if you stay-”  Zevran stalled and laughed apologetically as her eyes narrowed.  He lifted both gloved hands to cradle her cheeks, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “Yes, darling dear.”

“He will confess,”  Lia told Zevran quietly, leaning her cheek into his palm, taking what momentary comfort there was to be had.  It wasn't enough for Howe to die, not with how complicated things were.  They needed an enemy to give to the public to keep Darian firmly in the position of hero, and she could think of no better man to be it than Rendon Howe.

She had promised Coran and Leliana she would get leverage against their enemies so that negotiation was possible.  What had they said?  Beg, borrow, or steal?  The time for begging had passed, she thought, and they had borrowed Anora's.  Now it was time to steal.  They would steal their leverage from the very hands of people who rapaciously stole from the alienage, and from the mages...

And from the Dalish.

Zevran's expression was troubled.  “Even if we can...gently convince him to record a confession, it will be obvious to anyone even remotely trained that it was under duress.  A clean kill and a mocked-up suicide may be better.  If we can find some handwriting samples, I can manage a passable suicide note.”

Lia searched his face.  Zev and Darian had given everything they had to this endeavor, and she'd been holding back.  She couldn't tell anyone this, not even Aeducan, but maybe Zevran would understand.  If they were going to be together, he and Derry should know the full truth.

He should know she was a blood mage.

“Zevran, I will make him confess.”

#dragon age origins #wip wednesday #zevran x mahariel x tabris

[psalacanthea]

Thanks @oxygenforthewicked for the WiP Wednesday tag!  I’m not writing this week due to Reasons, but I dug this out and I hope it’s amusing.  Texting Thursday?  IDK.  Lol.  A little Darian Tabris x Zevran Arainai x Liana Mahariel (plus baby Adaia)

Arainai/Mahariel/Tabris Family Chat

...

Darian:  So say somebody got rested last night

Darian:  Arrested

Darian:  But they already got bailed out and theres no charges filed 

Darian:  Because someone had proof of 

Darian: Hang on autocorrects not getting it

Darian: Excessive force 

Darian:  The **** Templar’s Office isn’t going to file charges cousin **** threatened to release video of them threatening to curb stomp me when I stopped them beating on um this mage ****

Zevran: Don’t use speech to text.  You always get angry at it. 🖤

Darian:  I’m tired of **** spelling things wrong shut up and listen okay

Darian:  How I get it to make a question

Zevran:  You have to say question mark.

Darian:  They kept me overnight just to scare me **** cowards like I ain’t been in jail before I burned down **** Denerim once

Darian:  Well three blocks of it anyways

Zevran:  Your wife wants me to tell you that she’s going to kill you.

Darian:  **** why’s she just my wife?

Zevran:  My wife would never have a reason to get so angry.  Obviously.  I do not get caught. 

Darian:  That’s not how it works she’s your wife even when she’s mad at me

Zevran:  Did you get video of you fighting them?  I’m assuming that is what happened.

Darian:  Yea I got the whole thing Shianni recorded it

Zevran:  Send it I want to watch. 🗡️

Lia:        NO.

Darian:  Hi bby

Zevran:  That is my cue to open a bottle of wine.

Lia:        You put that video on a physical storage device and delete it off of your phone RIGHT now!  How many times have I lectured you about data security?

Darian:  lol

Lia:       Derry don’t you dare laugh this off.  I’m very serious.  You need backups, you need physical storage, and you need to delete it off your phone.

Darian:  Love you baby

Lia:       What does that have to do with anything?

Darian:  I got **** arrested and this is what you’re worried about it’s just cute as ****

Zevran:  It is extremely cute.

Lia:       Yes it’ll be very cute when the Templars you upset show up at your door, take your phone and destroy it, and beat you to within an inch of your life.  Do you not remember what happened in Amaranthine to Anders?  

Zevran:  No love that doesn’t sound cute.

Lia:        You’re not helping.

Zevran:  Oh.  I was not trying to help.  I am a neutral party in this debate.

Lia:        Data security isn’t something we can be complacent over!

Zevran:  😂😂😂 🖤

Darian:  **** lol

Lia:       Just…send me the video and delete it, please.  I’ll handle it.

Zevran: Hi da

Darian:  Baby girl!  Hi Adaia are you being good for mama and papa?

Zevran:  No

Darian:  Lolol

Lia:        At least your daughter is honest.

Darian:  You gotta try baby girl.   Da will be home soon and then we can cause trouble together

Zevran:  She handed me my phone back and said: I’m too tired for this

Darian:  Gee wonder where she got that from

Zevran:  [image ID: an elven toddler with dark brown curls, golden eyes, and sunglasses on top of her head is dressed in a fuzzy purple bathrobe and Griffey Griffin cartoon character slippers.  She’s holding a wine glass that’s much too large for her, full of pale effervescent liquid.  Her face is painted with garish makeup and a child’s attempt at drawing Vallaslin, and her tiny fingernails have been carefully painted black.]

Darian:  IS THAT FUCKING WINE?

Lia:       …Derry it’s sparkling grape juice.  Baby wine.

Zevran:  Seriously love?

Darian:   Can’t you put it inn one of her little plastic cups or something shell break it

Darian:  We don’t have many good dishes

Lia:        You bought that wine glass from the dollar store.

Zevran:  Did he really think we would give her wine?

Lia:        From a man who spent the night in jail, no less.

Darian:   🤬

Zevran:  😂 

Lia:        Good job successfully changing the subject, Zev.

Zevran:  😏 😏 🖤

Zevran:  Addy wants you to do my nails, too.

Lia:        Do you want black, purple, orange, or holographic sparkles?

Zevran:  Orange with sparkles.  Do you do Orlesian tips?

Darian:   That sounds like a sex thing

Lia:         It really does.

Darian:  GTG babe sweetie I will try not to get arrested again

Darian:  Love

Zevran:  I love you.  Addy loves you too.

Lia:        I love you, please send me the video.  Have Shianni delete it, too.

Darian:  Data security

Zevran:  Data security! 

Lia:       😒

#Tabris x Mahariel x Zevran #zevran arainai #Adaia Tabris #WiP Wednesday #sort of

[psalacanthea]

Ten Random Lines Tag

Thank you, @my-dumb-obsessions for ze tag! I’m not sure I’ll tag anyone because I’m sorta crazy-busy and I’d probably miss people’s and feel bad, but I’ll be happy to at least participate!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

What We Are- DA Post-Canon, Fenris x Anders

Anders leaned against the sauna shed in the darkness, arms folded, chin tucked into the depths of his scarf and what looked to be a thick woolen sweater.  “That is horrifying.  Just watching you do that makes me feel like I’m about to freeze to death.”

“Coward,” Fenris said flatly, the skin of his feet peeling away from the ice as he walked through the cloud of steam rising from his drenched body.

Reforged in Dragon’s Fire-  DA: Awakening, Nathaniel Howe x Cousland

“What are you glarin’ at me for, Feebs?”

Phoebe slung her pack onto the ground, giving him a cold look.  “If Felsi shows up with an axe and a grudge, I’ll help hold you down.”

Oghren gave a small, rusty laugh.  “Yeah.  That’s fair.”

Somnium- Modern DA AU, Solas x Lavellan

“You're heavy,” she scolded, but didn't push Solas off as he breathed her in, arms tightening around her waist. She was comfortable and laughing with a crackly warmth as he mumbled a protest at her words and tugged. “No, I'm not coming back to bed, stop it. I have an appointment before work I have to go to.”

Dissonance and Debauchery, the Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav (Zynatheri) x Astarion

Astarion’s finger tucked under her chin, stroking lazily up from her throat.  An enticing little threat of a caress that dragged her full attention to him, turning her away from the party.  Shadows cast across his face, adding intrigue and mystery.  “So...you do remember after all?”

Where the Road Leads - Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav (Zynatheri) x Gale

“I am saying that perhaps inside this wizard’s heart there is a bit of bard,” Zyn replied, reaching down and pressing a hand over Gale’s heart.  It sent her stomach sloshing up her throat.  She sprawled forward over his shoulder, giving a long groan.  “Oh, why do I drink so much?”

A Sky of Shattered Stars- DA post-canon, Hawke x Varric

Naomi wished she could say Merrill wasn’t right for her worry, but introspection was the last thing on her mind.  All she knew was if she didn’t deal with this, get rid of this problem trying to take Varric from her, she might go insane. Maybe that should have been a concern.

Valse des Fleurs-  DA pre-canon Iron Bull x(&) Orlesian Bard OC

“Love?  You have sold me!  Made me chattel!  Your love disgusts me.”

“Your life is in danger!” Elys shrieked, cowering with a hand on her wax-burned cheek.  “We did it to protect you!  All of this is to protect you!”

“What good is a life in a gilded cage, you idiot cow?!”  Claire retorted, fury incandescent.

Anarchy in Denerim- DA: Origins (modern) Zevran x Tabris x Mahariel

Zevran’s light voice only made the frustration all the worse.  "It is...not a threesome we are proposing, you know."

"Well, it is in a way," Liana said, and then laughed faintly as Zevran dismissed her words with a flip of his hand.  "Darian, are- you know that a relationship doesn't have to be just two people, don't you?"

#i think that's only 8 #but I am out of time lol #tag memes #thanks for the tag lol! #it was fun to see how many things I need to finish >.<

[psalacanthea]

Just cuz I was thinking of it, this is usually what my OC profiles look like (for Derry and Lia, my DAO protags).  I found that in writing original stuff I needed templates like this to help me keep from getting my characters ‘muddy’.  When editing or if a character starts to feel off character I can go back and look it over.  

The character traits help guide me to look at how they would make a choice or cause a wrinkle in the story.  Likes and dislikes are good for conversations and how they interact with other ppl.  The emotional arc of the character, so I don’t forget to give them growth throughout the story (I make them even for small bit players, just make the arc suitably small or petty).  This isn’t like...guided by any book or writing advice or anything smart like that.  

It’s just what I’ve found helps me.

Name:  Liana Mahariel

Age:  24-30s

Family:  

Foster mother- Ashalle

BF- Zevran Arainai

BF- Darian Tabris

Nicknames:  Lia, Mouse (z&d, leli), Pebble(aeducan), Lily(zevran), Fawn(ashalle), Killer (anders)

Class and Spec:  Mage, Blood Mage

Associations:  The Wardens, The Dalish Federation

Alignment:  True Neutral

Height:  5'

Hair: Chestnut Brown, 3A

Eyes: Dark Brown

5 Adjectives:  Stoic, Cautious, Protective, Ruthless, Intelligent

'Negative' character traits: Standoffish, casual liar, single-minded, poor social skills, vengeful

'Positive' character traits: Goal-oriented, active listener, pragmatic, humble, thoughtful

Most likely to: mercy-kill someone without guilt

Least likely to: speak up for herself when someone upsets her

Likes: The color orange, lily of the valley and lilacs, autumn, swimming, wine, blackberries, seafood, writing poetry, photography and videography, traveling, animals, gardening

Dislikes: Skirts, impracticality, crowds and elevators (agoraphobia), slobs, hotels, smoking, fast food, beer, anything apple flavored, television, people who will not choose a restaurant when offered suggestions, second chances

Character arc 1:  Due to severe generational trauma, does not easily open up to or accept others. Because of that, tends to simply ignore or accept poor behavior towards her with the assumption that it  is simply how others are and saying anything would be wasted.  Has a very dim view of people as a whole.  Also has a very dim view of herself- tends to see her own attitudes and behaviors as 'unchangeable' because she doesn't really believe anyone can change.  In following Darian and being exposed to his unrelenting love for the city of Denerim and the people of the alienage, she begins to see the worth of the world outside her own, and Zevran's unquestioning support and unobtrusive sympathy helps her learn to forgive and understand herself.  She grows to be honest and trust (a few select people, let's not go crazy here).

Name: Darian Adaian Tabris

Age:  20- late 20s

Family:

Father- Cyrion

Cousin- Shianni

Cousin- Soris

GF- Liana Mahariel

BF- Zevran Arainai

Nicknames:  Derry, Troublemaker (L&Z), Kid(aeducan)

Class and Spec:  Warrior, Champion

Associations:  His band

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Height:  5'11”

Hair:  Dark ginger, 1B

Eyes: Blue

5 Adjectives: Enthusiastic, Aggressive, Emotive, Supportive, Impulsive

'Negative' character traits: Prone to violence, bad listener, self-centered, unpredictable, judgmental

'Positive' character traits:  Loving, protective, strong sense of justice, community-minded, charismatic

Most likely to: start a fight without understanding the situation

Least likely to: buy thoughtful presents :(

Likes:  The color black, fashion, summer, cheap beer, good chocolate, junk food, music, fist fights, self-expression, art in general, being surrounded by friends, causing problems on purpose, dogs and cats, running, physical contact

Dislikes: practicality, schedules (ADHD), wildlife; especially insects and snakes, strawberries (allergy), being sick, licorice, fancy food, rich people, television, lying, snobs, hypocrisy, new things (esp food)

Character arc 1:  Due to Andrastian religious upbringing, both thrives on and wallows in guilt.  Finds it very motivating (sometimes positively) but also punishes himself deeply for perceived 'wrongs' and 'evils'.  But on the other hand, has a natural rulebreaker's spirit, and enjoys indulging in a great many 'minor' sins with a hedonistic bent; claims it's so he has something to confess.  Intially clings to the Chantry's definition of right and wrong even when it directly contradicts his own morality. Grows to let go of his childish view of good and evil, and to focus more on understanding and combating what causes harm to others.  Allows him to accept the idea of a) being in love with a man, and b) being in a relationship with more than one person.

#just a writing thing #maybe it might help someone else! #or someone might like learning about my characters #idk #when i have more than one OC it's very helpful

[silvanils]

papyrus

get-to-know-me asks!

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

"Icarus," by Bastille!

First of all, this song is just the kind of music I like to listen to while working on art or writing: it has a nice rhythm that helps keep me focused. Plus, I adore Greek mythology!

I also associate it with a few of my OCs, mainly one of my Wardens - Darian "Dirk" Tabris. He's the "Icarus" in this song: he's always been struggling between the life he wants to live and what his family wants him to do... and ultimately, he "takes a leap" and ends up joining the Grey Wardens - which still fits with the theme of "flying towards an early grave."

(I will say despite the tragedy of the original Icarus myth, because I associate this song with Darian and his origins it actually makes me feel good. He's better off because he took that leap, and his symbolic "death" was a new beginning for him.)

#;knight speaks #;knight things #;Dirk Tabris