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amusewithaview · 5 years

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Triple Trouble 2 (DAI AU)

A/N: follows directly from this post. READ THE TAGS because I’m not using usernames from this point on, only nicknames. Still tagging @uru-viel an @lucide-dreamer-dreams and @neverending-shenanigans just for funsies.

In very short order it was established that Mews was the oldest (”I am thirty years old, I don’t care if I woke up last that does not make me the goddamn youngest!”) and they were all seriously, completely fucked.

“I really don’t want to lose an arm,” Lucy said, staring at her glowing hand.

“I don’t think that’s our most immediate problem,” Shen pointed out.

“Losing an arm is a pretty big-”

“Um, hi!” Shen said brightly, waving at the two women standing in the doorway.

Lucy spun so quickly she fell on her ass. “Oh fuck,” she said when she saw what had to be Leliana and Cassandra, the left and right hands of the recently-deceased Divine.

“That’s my line,” Mews muttered.

The game devs hadn’t done either of the women justice. Leliana had a downright angelic face and her hair positively glowed in the flickering torchlight. Cassandra was a good six inches taller than the other woman, with steely grey eyes and a full-lipped mouth twisted into a perpetual sneer by the scar that angled down from her cheekbone.

“Oh fuck,” Lucy said again, this time in an entirely different tone.

“Keep it in your pants,” Mews advised. “They don’t look too friendly.”

“Maybe because we’re speaking a language they don’t know?” Shen pointed out. So saying, she immediately switched to Trade: “Hello, could you please tell us what’s going on?”

“You claim not to know?” Cassandra demanded, stalking forward.

“The last thing I remember was...” Mews trailed off and switched to English, turning to her two companions: “Booting up the game?”

“Booting up the game,” they both agreed, nearly in unison.

“I remember a woman,” Mews said shakily, voice cracking as she stifled a hysterical giggle. “There was a green light and...things. Things chasing me.”

“I remember the woman,” Lucy said slowly, and the distant look on her face combined with her panicked glance at Mews made the latter almost certain she wasn’t lying.

“I think the things were spiders,” Shen said, shuddering.

“A woman?” Leliana murmured, eyes flicking between all three near-identical faces. “And spiders, hmm? How interesting.”

“What did happen?” Shen asked after a brief and uncomfortable silence.

“Perhaps we should show you,” Leliana said.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take them.”

“All three?”

“We may require it,” Cassandra confirmed, grim as death.

The redhead nodded and slipped from the room.

“You still haven’t said what happened,” Mews pointed out.

“It will be easier to show you.”

They kept quiet while the warrior slipped the chains from the pole, leaving their hands bound together but no longer tethered to the center of the room. Shen caught Mews’ eyes and gestured towards Lucy, whose eyes were firmly planted on Cassandra’s swaying hips as they followed her through the creepy basement to the hall and out into the sunlight.

“She’s straight,” Mews hissed out the side of her mouth.

“I know,” Lucy said mournfully. “I’m just looking!”

“Look up,” Shen instructed in a wobbly voice.

The sky was a nightmare writ large. It looked broken in a way that was difficult to put into words. It looked like a thousand things pulled from the uncanny valley. It looked like a cracked window into a basement, like fractured ice over a deep lake, like heavy fog in an unfamiliar place, like flickers at the corner of your eye, like the feeling of someone watching you, like missing a step at the bottom of a staircase. It was jarring and unearthly and it bypassed the eyes and reached directly towards the hindbrain singing a discordant song of wrong, wrong, wrong.

Mews had to swallow hard to keep from gagging. Lucy dropped to her knees, legs gone numb. Shen swayed and might have fallen if Cassandra had not grabbed her arm and levered her up.

“It’s like-” Lucy gestured wordlessly, face scrunched up.

“Worlds of nope, fucking galaxies of nope,” Mews muttered in English.

“We can fix this,” Shen said. They had to fix this. They were the only ones who could, apparently. She nodded at Cassandra to show that she could stand on her own again. “We will help you, however we can.”

Haven was crowded, smelly, and full of people glaring at them. They were all very happy to be shot of it. The walk from the first bridge to the second took significantly longer than any of them expected, and the Breach expanded twice in that time. Both instances sent all three elves to their knees. The second time, Mews and Lucy vomited from the pain and shock.

“The pulses are coming faster,” Cassandra said, helping Shen grab handfuls of clean snow for the other two to wash out their mouths with. “We need to move more quickly.”

The second bridge was already destroyed by the time they got there and demons were pacing around the shattered remains.

“We must get past them, this is the only way,” Cassandra said, clearly unhappy with the options available to her. She gestured to a few boxes of supplies on their side of the broken bridge. “There are weapons there, you may arm yourselves. Know this - I am Templar trained and should you turn on me, I will not be merciful.”

“Noted,” Mews said.

“I would never!” Lucy cried.

“Understandable,” Shen responded with a brief nod.

The trio exchanged glances as they slowly moved towards the boxes.

“What are we specced as?” Mews whispered. “I mean, I always play as a mage but I don’t really feel too...different?”

“Aside from shorter?” Shen asked, tongue planted firmly in cheek.

“Aside from shorter,” she agreed, scowling.

“I think I’m a mage,” Lucy said, grabbing a staff and turning it this way and that. She tapped it gently against Mews’ forehead, whispering, “Protec,” and grinned when a shimmering teal bubble briefly flickered into view around her.

Mews rolled her eyes and grabbed a staff as well, angling it towards one of the Shades circling the frozen riverbed. “Attack,” she muttered, and jumped when ice suddenly spiked up through the demon, impaling it. “Holy shit!”

“Hey, don’t leave me out!” Shen took her own staff and aggressively stabbed towards a different Shade, grinning when a ball of fire the size of a man’s head flew from the end, exploding when it impacted the demon. “This is wicked,” she breathed, beaming.

“A little warning next time,” Cassandra said dourly before sliding down the incline and engaging with the half-frozen demon.

“Three mages, no waiting,” Lucy said. “Little lame that I don’t have any attacks, though. You guys get fire and ice and I’m spirit?”

“Try attacking,” Mews said.

Lucy pointed her staff at the scorched Shade and nearly dropped it when lightning burst from the sky, sizzling the demon into a puddle of blackish goop. “Storm and spirit!” she crowed. “This is awesome!”

Shen frowned thoughtfully, “You know, I think-”

“Way ahead of you,” Mews said, and hurled some lightning of her own.

“We’re all storm,” Shen confirmed, waving her glowing hand at the other two. “Look at the light. Mine is fire and lightning.”

“I must be ice and lightning,” Mews guessed, poking at the green gash.

“Stop that,” Lucy said, slapping her hand away. “You’ll go blind.”

“Oh har dee har. Is this really the time?”

“We’re about to go risk our lives to save a universe that didn’t exist outside pixels a few hours ago. Yeah, I think it’s the time.”

They picked their way down the incline carefully to where Cassandra was waiting. “You are effective,” she said, her tone making it difficult to say whether it was a compliment or potential proof of their assumed crimes. “Come, we must move faster. They are waiting.”

#triple trouble au #amuse writes stuff #dragon age inquisition #modern girl in thedas #self-insert #sort of but transitioning to original characters pretty damn quick #lucy is real thirsty for cass #mews is an anxious mess but also the talker #shen is the voice of reason right now #don't worry they'll trade depending on circumstances #also if i post this to ao3 i will open voting for pairings because #THIS IS THE LIE BACK AND THINK OF THEDAS AU #so the READERS get to choose which of us is most effectively gonna woo Solas #yeah i'm going there #MAYBE ONE OF US WILL GENUINELY WIN HIS WOLFY HEART #doubt

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wizardofozymandias · 3 years

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WIP Wheneverday

I was tagged by @nug-juggler and @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold this week for WIP Wednesday. I’ve also been tagged a few times in the past couple weeks by @noire-pandora. Thanks for tagging me, everyone!

I’m tagging @blarfkey, @noire-pandora, @queenaeducan, and @myrddinderwydd

Here’s another snippet of my Solrian kind-of-modern AU where the worst possible thing that could happen to Solas (in his opinion) is for anyone to find out he loves playing Magic: The Gathering.

Solas took another sip of wine. He had probably been a little too careless about how much he indulged, but it was far easier to relax in a noisy crowd when he had wine to settle his nerves.

Cards Against Thedas wasn’t his preference of game, but he had to admit it could often lead to hilarious moments. So far in this round, he had amassed a decent stack of black cards, but Varric still had a slight edge over him.

It was his turn to judge, and Solas pulled a black card off the stack. “It’s a shame kids these days are all getting involved with—” he read.

There was a raucous laugh from Sera, Varric and Dorian both smirked, and Cassandra shook her head. “I have nothing,” she said in disgust.

Once everyone handed over their white cards, Solas shook his head.

“It’s a shame kids these days are all getting involved with . . . Elfroot Dispensaries, Horny White Justice, Daddy’s Forbidden Chocolate, and Tapping Serra Angel.”

Varric glared at Sera. “Dammit, Buttercup, I think yours is better than mine.”

She put her tongue out at him.

“Tapping Serra Angel,” Solas announced.

They all stared at him, confused.

“What?” Varric demanded. “Not the forbidden chocolate?!”

“What does that angel card even mean?” Cassandra wanted to know. “I just wanted to get it out of my hand.”

“It’s a Magic: The Gathering reference,” Solas explained. “Creature cards in play are usually tapped, or turned horizontally, when they are meant to be attacking the opponent. The joke is that Serra Angel doesn’t tap.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Varric nodded. “Yeah, Chuckles, I thought you eschewed all things nerdy except your scholarly pursuits.”

Solas froze. Damn it all. The only way out was to lie. “A student of mine wrote a paper about subcultures a few years back. They gave very thorough explanations of the game’s mechanics.”

“Oh, of course,” Varric said. “You read it somewhere.” He elbowed Dorian. “Man can barely remember what day to set the trash out, but he can quote you any scholarly article he’s ever set eyes on.”

Dorian chuckled.

Solas finished off his glass of wine. Perhaps he should be getting home.

#dragon age #fanfiction #modern au #my writing #solas #sera #varric tethras #cassandra pentaghast #dorian pavus #solrian #solas/dorian #alcohol cw #thanks again for the tags #i am very slow

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bitchesofostwick · 4 years

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For Cullinor: A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss (Omg I want this so bad for college AU!! But since it hasn't happened in universe yet, I *guess* I can handle AWA versions 😉)

college au is NOT there yet so you’ll have to wait ;) but yes of course i can absolutely do this for canon cullinor <3

***

He’s been awake for an hour, probably. He isn’t keeping track. But the songbirds have long since quieted down, and the pink morning dawn has given way to blue skies, few clouds visible through the open doors leading out to her balcony. Drills are beginning soon--although he’s left Lieutenant Forrester in charge of them in the days following Ellinor’s return from the Frostback Basin. His stomach has started to growl, but he hasn’t moved.

Because she’s still asleep.

In a different time--in a different lifetime, it feels--he’d begin without her, wash and dress and eat and be out the door before she’d even cracked an eye open. But since the fall of Corypheus, he’s allowed himself to relish in this time with her. Any and all time with her, he thinks. Work is less pressing, the end of southern Thedas as they know it less imminent, and their time together restful and at ease, granting him moments like these to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes.

Waiting for her to awaken.

She’s at peace when she sleeps--usually. Rarely moves much, although this morning, wedged between his side and his arm, she’s stirred once or twice, each time gripping his forearm a little tighter. When he lifts his other arm--carefully, lest he wake her and receive a sat to the face in retaliation--she furrows her brow, squeezes her eyes shut tighter. The sun, he thinks; it’s bright in their bedroom now that it’s gotten later. He scratches his head, settles back down. Enjoys the warm feeling of her beside him, prepared and well willing to lie quietly until she wakes, be it sooner or later.

It is, in the end, sooner.

She wakes with a start.

“Lin,” he says softly, instinctively, watching carefully as she blinks her eyes slowly, her fingers digging into his arm as her shoulders rise and fall with each breath. “Ellinor--”

“Just a dream,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you all right?”

She nods.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He does his best to give her a smile; if she seems uncertain then I can’t be, he thinks, leans over, kisses her forehead. “Well. Good morning.”

“Morning,” she replies, letting him wrap her in his arms and accepting the soft kiss of his lips brushed over her own.

He sighs warmly. “I love you.” And he kisses her again, just once, just barely. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

He’s not ready for her when she grips his arms tighter and pushes into him, kissing him hard. It’s a moment before he manages to return her intensity and another moment before he can feel the cool wetness prickling from her eyelashes to his cheek, and immediately, he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s noth--”

“Ellinor.”

She shakes her head, eyes downcast. Avoiding me. And after a moment, she pulls herself closer, pressing her forehead into his chest.

He knows.

“Did you dream about Solas again?”

She nods. “I found him,” she says. “But I don’t know if I ever made it back.”

His shoulders grow tense, and he holds her tighter, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Of course you did,” he says with a confidence he prays she can’t see through. “Of course you will.” He thinks back on her words from long ago, a lifetime ago.

I always come back to you.

Of that, he must be sure.

#cullen rutherford #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x trevelyan #trespasser #pre trespasser #lol this is actually Not Good but i wanted to write something #ellinor x cullen #ellinor fic #my writing #ginnyq #answered

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dirthenera · 4 years

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Dread Wolf Take You (au)

So @roseategales and I were discussing what would have happened if Lavellan showed up instead of Charter to the Teahouse, and this came tumbling out. For @dadrunkwriting

Tevinter Nights Spoilers!

Rating: A for Angst.

Pairing: Thenera x Solas

WC: 460

She met his eyes and smiled. She was shaking, a tiny tremor too small to be noticed. Too many emotions, too guarded, since the moment she had entered the room.

It was his hands she recognized first.

The figures that surrounded them turned to stone.

Even if his hands hadn't given him away, the long lines of his body, his eyes, his voice would have, even with that ridiculous accent. She would have recognized him anywhere. And she knew better than to expect different from him. It had been a dance, a careful measuring as they told stories. Did she know?

The silence stretched, yearning and fear and love thick.

It was a fluke. A chance encounter. It was supposed to be Charter.

But here he was, swathed in gaudy silks and trying desperately not be to be Solas.

Not to be hers.

“Hi. Not a fan of the tea, Vhenan?” Her voice cracked the silence, cracked any notion she might not know him. “I missed you.”

“Thenera, ma vhenan.” He breathed. His voice caught on the return. Something he couldn't allow himself to say. That he missed her just as much.

“You're wearing my colors.” The trembling thing inside her eased, just a little.

He pulled the mask with its inlaid opals off, opals that matched the pendant that rested against her breastbone. Time stopped. Like so many of their moments together, just the pounding of her heart giving lie to it. She drank him in. He looked the same as last time, only the smallest of hints that things were different. He looked tired. He looked… Beloved.

“I suppose I am. And I suppose it was too much to expect that this guise would work on you, of all the people of Thedas.” He clasped his hands behind his back, an achingly familiar gesture.

“You know -” An offer, one she had made so long ago in front of a mirror, cut off.

“And you know I cannot let you.”

“I know you think that.”

“There are too many reasons.” He replied cooly. She tried not to think of all the times he had touched her, comforted her, as he kept his careful distance.

“Please. Please don't tell me it's for my sake. We've done that already and we lost so much time.”

“Emmeara.” Her heart broke as he said it, the finality of a door closing in the word. My dream. He still thought of her that way. “We are running out of time. You have given me so much and all I have done is taken from you. I must do this one last thing right by you. I am not a god, Thenera. I am prideful, hotheaded, and foolish, and I am doing what I must.”

He turned to leave, like always.

“I am sorry.”

#I hurt myself writing this #I just have a lot of feelings ok?#solavellan #solavellan fanfic #my fic #my writing #solas x lavellan #tevinter nights #tevinter night spoilers #dadrunkwriting #Thenera Lavellan

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

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Love Yourself Challenge

I was tagged by @lostinfantasies38 @johaeryslavellan @allisondraste and @bitchesofostwick. Thanks, friends!! ❤️❤️

rules: choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I think I’ve seen just about everyone doing this so far, so my apologies if I’m double tagging you! But, tagging @schoute @jellysharkbat @ginnyq @bigfan-fanfic @herald-divine-hell @princessvicky01 and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged yet ❤️❤️ No pressure!

Not gonna lie, most of my writings are smut related (as my followers know), so, adding an obvious 18+ only disclaimer for the majority of these 😂 Also, I’m trying to be better about plugging my Ko-Fi even though it’s definitely not expected to receive tips for my work, but, adding it there just in case :) And now, in no particular order:

1. Once Upon a Time in Thedas - DA Cinderella!AU

Lana Surana spent her entire life dreaming of a time when she would be free of her abusive parents, never thinking it would come true. When Denerim holds a ball for newly crowned King Alistair to find his Queen, she finds herself swept away into a world she never thought could be possible.

2. Chase - The Witcher

Geralt returns to Theia's home after two months away and finds that she's set up a game for them to play. If he wants his prize, he'll have to find her first.

3. Duet - The Witcher

Jaskier stops by to visit Theia while Geralt is away, and receives some very clear instructions from the witcher: "Keep her warm."

4. To Weather the Storm - DAI (aka, my ongoing fic that I desperately need to update)

All she wanted was to travel to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, report back to her clan's Keeper about the Conclave, and go back to her normal life as First of Clan Lavellan. However, Sarya had no idea that the events that would unfold there and after would turn her life upside down as the very sky was torn asunder.

5. Comfort - DAI, a prize for @bigfan-fanfic for winning my contest

Alistair makes a surprise visit to Skyhold in an attempt to join Cullen in cheering up Tristan after the loss of his arm.

While scouring through my AO3 account I kind of realized I’m missing a lot on there that I maybe have only posted to here 🧐 either that, or I have a LOT of unfinished one shots saved LOL. I’m gonna need to get working on that!

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johaerys-writes · 4 years

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The Bum End of The Library

Everything started when @pikapeppa sent me this incredible comic by @knightofbunnies of a modern AU where Dorian is a substitute librarian. Then we got to talking about how cool it would be if her OC Rynne Hawke and my OC Tristan Trevelyan were there (with Dorian and Fenris, of course). One thing led to another… AND NO, WE TOTALLY DIDN’T COME UP WITH A CRACK ONE SHOT THAT HAD ME WHEEZING THE ENTIRE TIME I WROTE IT XD

This is dedicated to @pikapeppa whom I adore endlessly for enabling my tomfoolery, and for the banter ideas that ARE ABSOLUTELY GOLDEN AND I CAN’T DEAL. (also, title courtesy of @solas-disapproves! :D)

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

“Why are we doing this, again?”

Tristan sat on the plush armchair tucked at a small corner of the library. He flicked idly through the book in his lap -something about rune casting or other- and took a sip of warm tea spiked with brandy from his flask. He was still quite sleepy; Dorian had dragged him out of bed first thing in the morning, with a promise to get him a warm berry tart from the bakery on their way to the Kirkwall University library. Tristan had gotten the tart, but that hadn’t improved his sour mood one bit.

Dorian was on the narrow ladder leaning against the sturdy bookcase, placing a thick leather tome on the shelf. He shot him a sharp look.

“We, amatus?” he asked him poignantly, carefully climbing down the ladder. “We are doing nothing. I am filling in for Felix while he’s away on that research trip of his. You were supposed to come and help me sort this mountain of books, but all you’re doing is sitting on your arse and-“

His eyes widened considerably when he saw the flask in Tristan’s hands. With a sharp exhale, he strode over to him and snatched the flask away, oblivious to Tristan’s glare.

“No drinking over the books! How many times do I have to say it?” he chided him. He screwed the cap back on the flask and carefully placed it in his coat pocket, but not before taking a tiny sip himself.

Tristan flashed him a teasing smile. Dorian rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help a small smile of his own. “Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, will you?”

Tristan arched an eyebrow at him. “Make me.”

Before Dorian could respond, a cheerful voice cut through the quiet of the library.

“Dorian!” Rynne exclaimed, running up to him.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite girl,” Dorian said, returning her grin as she went up on her tip toes to hug him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she asked, still holding him by the shoulders. “I thought Felix was in charge of the library!”

“He still is. I’m only substitute librarian while he’s away. What brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just passing by to return some books on Pyromancy. They were incredibly dull. I almost died of boredom while reading them,” she replied, her raspberry lips pursing in a small frown, which instantly melted away when she looked up at Dorian. “When are you going to write a book? You do know how much I love reading your research!”

“Ah, always the flatterer, aren’t you?” Dorian said, pinching her chin. “When I write a book, you’ll be the first to read it.”

Rynne’s beamed at him before her eyes fell on Tristan. He returned her animated wave with a nod, returning to flipping the pages of the book in his lap.

“Oh, dear,” Rynne said, lowering her voice, “he’s not very talkative today, is he?”

Dorian shot him an amused glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t mind him. He’s just upset that I didn’t let him sleep until late afternoon.”

“I heard that,” Tristan grumbled.

“Good! I meant you to,” Dorian said with a sweet smile.

Rynne laughed softly as she glanced at the books Dorian was still holding in his arms. “Let’s see, what do we have here? Alchemy, more alchemy, rune forging… Treatises on Fade magic! That’s quite interesting,” she said, picking the book up. A smaller book fell through the bundle as she did so, and her amber eyes flashed with interest.

“Oh, and what is this? Is that the latest instalment of Swords & Shields? And a very smutty one, too. You dirty dog,” she laughed, tapping him playfully on the arm.

“I was only returning it to its proper place! Besides, it’s not like I didn’t read it as soon as it came out.”

Rynne shifted on her feet somewhat uncomfortably and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That makes one of us, then.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? You are always the first to finish them! I know that Varric gives you some of his manuscripts to read before he publishes them, too. What happened now?”

“Oh, well, you know how it is.” A faint blush crept up Rynne’s cheeks and she glanced behind her.

Dorian chuckled under his breath, following her gaze towards the white haired elf that was browsing some books on a shelf across the room. “I most certainly do. No time to read about the Knight-Captain getting it on, when you’re getting a fair bit of it yourself, hmm?”

Rynne’s barking laugh rang across the library. “You could say that!”

Dorian gave her a knowing look, placing his hand on his hip. “He is very charming, I won’t lie.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s gorgeous! Just look at him,” she said and let out a soft, dreamy sigh. “And he’s kind and thoughtful and caring… Not to mention he has the nicest butt in all of Thedas,” she said, elbowing Dorian and winking cheekily at him.

Tristan scoffed. “I find that hard to believe,” he said, not taking his eyes off his book.

Rynne shot him a look of honest curiosity. “Really? How so?”

A small smile curled Tristan’s lips before he spoke. “Everyone knows that Dorian has the finest rear end in Thedas.”

Dorian let out a loud guffaw and turned around to blow him a kiss. “You know best, amatus.” He looked at Rynne and tapped her sympathetically on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, my dear, but the title of the best behind in Thedas is already taken.”

“Nonsense!” Rynne exclaimed. “I am sorry, because you’re about to be dethroned. Fenris has the best butt in Thedas, and that’s final.”

“No it isn’t,” Tristan said.

“Yes, it is!”

Dorian huffed in mock exasperation, and snatched the book she was holding. “Did you want this magical treatise or not?” he said teasingly.

“Hey! I need that for my Fade course!” She tried to take it back, but Dorian held it well over his head.

“By all means, continue to debate my fine assets - pun entirely intended - but did you really need this book? Something tells me you didn’t. Perhaps you’ll be able to pass that course without it, if you’re very lucky.”

Rynne stretched her arm to grab it, laughing all the while. “Just give it back, you horrible man!”

“What is happening here?”

Fenris’s deep voice echoed in the circular rotunda. He was a little way away, his brows furrowed. He crossed the distance with a couple large strides, coming to stand protectively beside Rynne.

Varric, who materialised as if from thin air from behind a cubicle shot him a wide smile. “Everything’s happening here, elf,” he chuckled. “Everything.”

Fenris shot him a sidelong frown. “Where did you come from?”

“Oh, Fenris!” Rynne exclaimed excitedly. “Dorian, Tristan and I were discussing who has the finest butt in Thedas. I was saying that yours is the best, while Tristan-“

A crimson flush spread on Fenris’s cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. “You did what?”

Tristan let his book fall closed and stood up, walking up to them. He tilted his head to glance at Fenris’s back, then shrugged. “You have a point,” he told Rynne. “His behind is quite shapely.”

“See? I told you!”Rynne said, her face brightening up, while Fenris glowered at him.

“… but I insist that Dorian’s is better,” Tristan continued with a sly smile.

“He’s right, you know,” Dorian said, as matter-of-factly as if they were having an argument about the weather. “Not to sound vain, but it is quite incredible. I picture it in marble.”

Fenris folded his arms before his chest and gave Dorian a bored look. “You do realise how ridiculously vain that sounds, I hope?” he deadpanned.

“Oh! Oh! I have an idea!” a voice behind them said.

They all turned to see Sera perched up on the railing of the rotunda, watching them all as they bickered.

“Why don’t you both have your arses carved in marble, and then we can have people decide whose is best?” she suggested with a grin.

“Now, that’s an idea I can get behind,” Varric chimed in, barely suppressing his amused grin. “Then we can have the carving that wins outside the library as a tourist attraction.”

Everyone laughed, except for Fenris, whose mouth twisted in a snarl. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Oh, come on, Fen, it will be fun!” Rynne said. “We could throw a huge party with drinks, and music, and we’ll invite all our friends-“

“No, Hawke,” Fenris insisted, even though his scowl lessened considerably when he glanced at her.

Rynne opened her mouth to retort, not doubt intending to persuade him, when a head emerged from the nearby cubicle, and a very disgruntled Solas glared at them.

“Do you mind?” he asked pointedly. “Some of us are trying to read.”

“Hey, Elfy!” Sera said, jumping off the railing. “You never told us who you think has the best bum.”

“And I won’t,” Solas said, his tone flat and dry. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important essay to complete.”

Sera shrugged and waved dismissively behind his back as he turned to leave. “Oh, forget him. Elfy’s just bitter that no one’s arguing about his arse.”

“I most certainly am not!” Solas replied, a look of indignation on his features, while the rest of them burst into raucous laughter.

“Well, you always have a friggin’ opinion on everything else,” Sera said with a sneer, “so I think you’re very bitter.”

“Alright, alright, let’s all play nice,” Varric said placatingly, wiping a tear from his eye. “How about we settle this over a couple drinks at the pub? The atmosphere there is much more inviting for discussions of this sort.”

“Absolutely not,” Fenris growled, his mouth set in a tight line.

“I’m in,” Tristan said, grabbing his coat from the armchair.

“So am I!” Rynne said, clapping her hands. She pulled at Fenris’s arm enthusiastically. “Let’s go, it’ll be fun!”

A look at Rynne’s smiling face had Fenris letting out a defeated sigh. “Fine. But you dimwits are paying,” he said, looking at Varric, Dorian and Tristan in turn.

Tristan placed his palm on Dorian’s back and winked at him. “Winner’s treat.”

#dorian pavus #fenris #dorian pavus fic #fenris fic #fenhawke #pavelyan #dorian x trevelyan #fenris x hawke #fenris x f!hawke #dorian x inquisitor #tristan trevelyan #rynne hawke #johaerys writes

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briannasroger · 4 years

Text

Before the Inquisition

tagged by @inqsmabari ♥

tagging: uh whoever wants to do it and tag me. I really have no idea who likes doing tag games so please let me know (don’t care if we’re mutuals or not, I always want to read about OC’s).

Name: Ophelia Trevelyan (from my fic, The Light You Still Hold)

Layer 01: The Outside

Eye Color: Green

Hair Style / Color: Dark brown. Most often in a thick plait or ponytail that reaches the middle of her back with some smaller cut pieces to frame her face. When she lets her hair down, it tends to reach her lower back with some waviness to it.

Height: She’s described as small, and I imagined her height around 5′3.

Clothing Style:

Day Wear - Considering she lives with the Inquisition, she only really has the robes they’ve given her and before that, she lived in the circle. Given the choice, she would adore wearing spring/summer dresses. Paired with sweaters (or the equivalent) as she’s easily cold.

Night Wear – Fashion is out of her depth, or at least it is since she’s out of the loop. She definitely has discussions with Josephine and Leliana on what to wear, and it’s often still some variety of dresses.

Bed Room – In the modern AU I’m plotting, she wears Cullen’s shirts to bed and leggings. In TLYSH, she definitely just piles on whatever warm, loose clothes she’s given and curls into a ball. She isn’t picky about what she wears to bed, but she does get self-conscious about how sometimes she doesn’t really WANT to sleep in bed with a shirt on. (Sometimes your boobies deserve to be free, you can’t sensor the truth, staff, @/staff).

Best Physical Feature: Her eyes are stunning, but personally I think her best physical feature is her lips. They look really soft and cute.

Layer 02: The Inside

Fears: Red lyrium, darkness, nightmares.

Guilty Pleasure: Muffins.

Biggest Pet Peeve: People talking over her (which happens often)

Ambitions For The Future: Find her child, learn more about storm magic, get rid of this mark on her hand, and somehow write a book on mixing conventional trap-making with magic.

Layer 03: Thoughts

First Thoughts Waking Up: Is the sun up? Is it too late, is it too early? She makes it a point to wake up for the sunrise usually, and her sleeping schedule is fairly normal (excepting the rather vivid nightmares she can get).

What They Think About Most: When will I be free? is her most common thought. In her comfort zone, she can be a quite logical or strategic thinker, though she hasn’t had the chance to focus on anything other than surviving in quite a while.

What They Think About Before Bed: A silent goodnight to all the people who aren’t with her (be it by choice, or not) is her last thought. She’s a fairly sound sleeper in a place where she’s comfortable and tends to fall asleep quickly.

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: How quick she retains information when told to her. While this isn’t translated into action (see: her trying to learn magic, her trying to learn sword fighting, etc things), it does help with strategy as she has the theory behind most things in her head already.

Layer 04: Either Or…

Single Or Group Dates: Single dates. She doesn’t imagine group dates as anything more than hanging out with a group of friends and she tends to be a little affection regardless of where they are.

To Be Loved Or Respected: Loved. Ophelia was respected as a Trevelyan, and mildly respected as a mage, but she hasn’t been loved since she was taken to the circle, not truly, or at least not in any way she has noticed.

Beauty Or Brains: Brains. When you come to know someone and love them, their face will become them and she knows whoever she loves will be beautiful because of that.

Dogs Or Cats: Neither given she’s not had a pet since she was a young child and her family mostly kept horses.

Layer 05: Do They…

Lie: She can’t lie, she’s terrible at it. She can omit the truth to some degree, but if you ask her a question point blank, she will stumble over it.

Believe In Themselves: Not really, but it depends. If you want her to regurgitate facts on you, she can do that.

Believe In Love: She does. The one thing in life she’s never doubted is love - even if love hasn’t exactly worked out for her. Familial, platonic, or romantic, most have abandoned her to some degree. She imagines it wouldn’t hurt so much if she didn’t love them so it has to exist.

Want Someone: Yes, who wouldn’t, but her priority is finding her child.

Layer 06: Have They…

Been On Stage: As a child, she did plays with her brother Alfonso at the Trevelyan Estate, but that’s about it.

Done Drugs: Does lyrium count considering she’s a mage? If so, yes. If not, no, never.

Changed Who They Were To Fit In: When she first arrived at the circle, she did. It was one of the reasons her studies in the circle suffered so much - she was trying to pretend she wasn’t a mage, so while she learned the theory behind everything, she didn’t quite get the practice in because she liked to imagine she was in the circle on accident. After having her child, her mindset shifted to acceptance, but obviously that was only a few years ago.

Layer 07: Whats Their…

Favorite Colors: It was initially red, but after joining the Inquisition, she has changed her mind. Her favorite color is yellow now.

Favorite Animal: Nugs!

Favorite Book: Potion and trap-making books.

Favorite Game: Big fan of the Thedas equivalent of car games. A decent fan of chess, though she hasn’t played in a while.

Layer 08: I…

I Love: the sunrise.

I Feel: very cold.

I Hide: my son’s existence until I know no one will take him away again.

I Miss: having a goal for the future that isn’t wrapped in the hands of someone else.

I Wish: that I was free and happy.

#ophelia trevelyan #tag games #long post #ish

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bigfan-fanfic · 4 years

Note

56 for whomever you’d like

“Shhh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.”

For Tash Adaar and featuring @darlingrutherford‘s Lana Surana and Alistair in the One Big Happy Family AU where Tash was adopted by Lanistair when he was around 4 years old.

White.

All white, encompassing, blanketing, smothering.

He was buried under the snow, his leg would have felt like it was broken if the cold hadn’t stolen all the feeling from him. Haven must still have been burning under the snow, but the stinging wind and the snow on the ground and in the sky and in his eyes would not let him see anything. Tears froze and pricked the corners of his eyes. His horns cracked in the cold. They had promised to find him. Cullen had sworn it to his parents, so it must have been true.

But then Tash had found Cullen, lips blue, his mantle stained white by the creeping frost, a red spike of red lyrium growing out of a jagged hole in his chest-plate. Tash had screamed and ran, tripping and falling in the numbing snow while wolves howled around him.

And then he saw them, his parents, standing hand in hand just ahead. Dread filled him as he cried out and they did not move.

“Mama? Papa?” Tash asked, fear clutching his heart as they turned.

He was still screaming when he awoke, still seeing the darkspawn with his parents’ faces lunging at him, screeching for his blood.

Lana and Alistair were there in an instant, swords in hand, practically still asleep themselves. They had burst into the room, assessing the situation instantly, as the magic light hanging in the room increased its glow to full. Lana took the sword from Alistair and gently laid them down while he slowly moved forward onto the giant bed and opened his arms for Tash to surge into, gripping him tight. She waved her hand at the fireplace, magically stoking it until it was a nice crackling flame, spreading its heat through the room.

“Oof,” Alistair breathed, but said nothing, simply rubbing his son’s back while he cried. His horns were so big now, they practically went up to Alistair’s face, and he was grateful for the horn covers Josephine had had made for Tash’s birthday. Lana climbed in and joined the hug, sandwiching Tash between them.

“There, there...” Alistair soothed.

Tash shuddered. “I was in Haven... and I was alone... in the sn-snow. And C-cullen was dead and you- you were darksp-spawn!”

Lana wrapped her arms around her son. “Shhh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real.”

Tash turned, and Alistair had to maneuver his head out of the way of the horns. “Are you sure? S-solas said that the Fade has stuff that’s real in it.”

Lana gave a small huff of frustration. She would be having words with the elf. “I’m sure. Trust me, we’d know all about it if Cullen was gone.”

“Yeah,” Alistair added with a comforting smile. “We can see his tower from our window, you know. It’s still lit, so he’s still working and not sleeping.”

“And we’re here, with you. We’re not going away anytime soon, Tash.” Lana promised. “We’re gonna be with you for a long, long time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Lana said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Promise.” Alisair agreed, wrapping his arms around the both of them and flopping backwards, bouncing on the bed for a moment. Tash gave a small laugh and a shaky breath.

Lana glanced over at the door, where Bryn had crept in, giving a small whine of concern. “Come on, Bryn, we’re having a lie-in.”

The mabari went dashing up and bounding into the bed, landing right across all three of their legs. Tash giggled.

Alistair made an interested noise. “Huh. You know what, I think this might be the only bed in Thedas that can comfortably fit our family. Imagine if we kept this in our tent, hmm?”

Tash giggled again. “You couldn’t fit this in a tent!”

Alistair squinted. “I don’t know... you two are mages, aren’t you? Maybe you could do some magic or something?”

Lana shared an incredulous look with Tash, and then nodded seriously, using her Warden-Commander voice. “We’ll get to work on that, first thing.”

“Good.” Alistair said, doing his best Cullen impersonation to make Tash laugh even harder. “I expect a report as soon as possible.”

Lana squeezed Tash’s arm, draping her own across him to touch Alistair as well. “Sleep now, Tash. We’ll stay with you through the night.”

“Good night, Mama. Good night, Papa. G’night, Bryn. I love you.” Tash said softly, resting his own head on Alistair’s arm, stretched out so his hand cupped Lana’s face. Bryn made a snuffling noise and curled up for the night.

“Night, Tash. We love you too. And I’ll make sure we have something nice for breakfast.” Alistair promised.

“Something with cheese, I suppose?” Lana teased.

“One time I say something, and she never lets me forget...” he trailed off, watching his son drift to sleep. Night night. he mouthed to her, smiling as she mouthed it back, and they slowly drifted off as well.

#my prompts #my ocs #tash adaar #other people's ocs #lana surana #alistair #darlingrutherford #my writing #one big happy family au #i love it so much #so sweeeet #lanistair

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musingmycelium · 5 years

Note

22 on the soulmate au?? For whomever you feel fits :)

22- you can’t lie to your soulmatefor @dadrunkwriting

Thunder rolls through Ellanis as lightning flashes overhead, those furious dark clouds broken only by the streaks of brilliant white light. Rain pelts the tent and Ellanis’ face where he’s sticking it out to look at the sky. Water tasting of ozone falling from his eyelashes to his lips.

Brighter than daylight in flickering instants. Thunder so deep it echoes in the empty chambers of his chest. Everything is quiet and still with the sole exception of the storm rumbling through camp and Ellanis wants to breathe in the peace forever.

The thoughts keeping him awake are settled somewhat by the rain, the soothing cadence of each drop hitting the canvas breaks his anxiety apart. Ellanis isn’t sure how he ended up here and he isn’t sure how to move forward.

He shouldn’t have done this.

Ellanis closes the tent flap and wipes the water from his face. Scrubs at it more like, trying to figure out where he went wrong. Except he knows already and he doesn’t want to admit it.

It was a stupid decision. A spur of the moment idea to buy those gloves leading him here to this tent shared in the middle of a rainstorm. One too many glances over the fire, one too many touches leaving his heart racing from the simple contact.

And it isn’t like he can say he regrets it. Not really. Ellanis is... Drawn to Zevran in a way he’s never felt before. Like there’s a hook caught in his heart reeling him close, or a thread tied around his fingers leading back to Zevran’s. A silver-lined hole in his chest with Zevran’s name on it.

Hands, sleep warm and calloused, on his shoulder causes Ellanis to jump. “You know, I thought I was getting used to your Ferelden cold but even a single night of warmth is enough to make me ache for Antiva.”

Zevran’s hands slide over Ellanis’ skin, still bare from earlier in the evening. A comforting, familiar touch. It causes Ellanis to shiver and he wishes he could say from excitement. Instead, it twists up his already muddled thoughts.

When Ellanis doesn’t turn his head Zevran drops his hands quickly. Not shamefully, not as if he’s been burned. Just as if he knows, somehow, his touch isn’t welcome. “Is something wrong, Ellanis?”

No. Ellan’s skin itches with his indecision, he wants this. He wants to follow Zevran back to the bedroll and wrap himself up in the knowledge he’s safe there and let the storm lull him to sleep. There isn’t anything wrong with desire is there?

And yet.

Yes. Does Ellanis really know he’s safe? That this isn’t the long game Zevran is playing? Andraste, all he wants is for this to be real. And yet he can’t say he’s sure it is.

“Is this,” Ellanis pauses. How does he even ask this? “Zevran I need to know if this.. thing between us is something I can trust.”

Ellanis remembers a night in Orzammar, their first in the city. Just barely a week since Zevran tried to kill him and instead joined him. Ellanis remembers Zevran coming to his private rooms to talk, to get close with a laugh on his lips and a smirk in his eyes.

Mostly Ellanis remembers the cool press of steel against his throat.

Daggers sharpened just that morning, no pressure to the blade except for the glint of steel in Zevran’s eyes in the heartbeat he had control. Quick and deadly and unexpected and infuriating. Oh, the memory had followed Ellanis like a spectre and still hangs over him now.

A ghost of a question, a what if.

“Do you trust me?” If Zevran had not spoken almost directly into Ellanis’ ear he would have missed it for its softness. Lightning cracks outside and for a moment, a heartbeat, Ellanis can see the pain in Zevran’s eyes before the world fades back to black.

“I-” do. Ellanis doesn’t know what stops him. It’s as though his tongue is no longer his own, fights the single word from falling from his lips. So he tries again, “Zevran I-” And again he can’t say it.

Why can’t he tell Zevran a simple lie? Two little words to keep him from watching Zevran’s heart crack in his eyes again. It should be easy and his body, everything inside him, is screaming at him. Not allowing him.

And now Ellanis is truly terrified. Once more, just ‘I do.’ But his stomach heaves before he can go beyond thinking them and realization hits Ellanis like the lightning striking outside.

Oh, Andraste guide him.

“I don’t know.” Ellanis whispers and the admission, the truth he cannot hide from his soulmate, is nearly lost to the rumbling thunder. “I don’t know.”

Even without Zevran touching him Ellanis can feel the way Zevran tenses. It’s electric in the air, a charge between them.

All at once, everything clicks into place. The pieces of a puzzle Ellanis has been worrying over for months finally slide together and the picture leaves him breathless. The way Zevran dances around his questions, opens his answers delicately, told them everything when they just met -all of it.

“You knew.”

Ellanis twists, painfully straining his bad leg in his haste, eyes wide and prickling. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

He can blame the wetness on his cheeks to the storm raging outside.

Zevran laughs but there is little grace to it. “I didn’t realize you didn’t.”

“What would I have tried to lie to you about that would make me aware?” Reeling, a blossom shaken from the vhenadhal in a spring storm sent to follow the violent wind. Ellanis can’t focus, can’t think. All this time and he’d been, what?

“Zevran,” His name falls from Ellanis’ lips like a prayer heard in Chantry halls. The plea of the dying to their Maker asking for reprieve. “I still don’t- I can’t. This doesn’t change anything.”

Except it changes everything. If there is one person, one single person in the whole of Thedas, Ellanis can trust implicitly and without hesitation it should be Zevran. And he doesn’t.

In the flashing light illuminating their tent for only a fraction of a second Ellanis can see Zevran’s eyes again. Exactly as he didn’t want to see them. Walls up but crumbling, the heart Zevran claims to have burried lying on the surface for Ellanis to see.

“You’re right not to trust me, caro.” Zevran’s voice is feather-light, drifting on the silence between thunderclaps. “I would apologize for tonight but neither of us regrets it.”

Throat closing, heart hammering, eyes wet, and voice breaking. Ellanis whispers as Zevran stands, pulling his tunic over his head and Ellanis knows where he is going. “I’m sorry, Zevran, I’m-”

Zevran cuts him off with a single fingertip pressed to Ellanis’ lips. “I will never be sorry for tonight. But I will understand if you don’t speak of it again.”

He steps out into the storm quietly. Gently. Ellanis almost calls out but his traitorous tongue halts the words, the plea for Zevran to come back. He can’t lie, not to Zevran. Not even if he wants, desperately, to do so.

[remember to follow my writing-only blog apostatetabriswrites if you want to see my works after the 1st of july!]

#dragon age #dao #zevwarden #zevran x warden #zevran arainai #ellanis tabris #my writing #writing: ellanis #WOOF #WOWZA THAT GOT A BIT #uhh #away from me #:D #thank you for the prompt holy shit #rrrusalka

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fanonorcanon · 5 years

Text

Cullen & F!Mage Trevelyan (Peaceful Thedas AU)

“Oh for fuckssakes,” She groaned, getting up slowly. The eluvian had thrown her out at the top of a hill. A hill strewn with bushes, rocks and weeds.

“Are you alright, that was quite a fall,” someone said.

“Oh yes, completely fine,” she spat, dusting off her clothes and the pack that had fallen from her back. “Nothing like rolling down a fucking hill that’s at least ten feet tall with--” she began before she looked up. Oh, Maker. He’s hot. “Sorry,” She finished lamely.

He chuckled and she felt her face grow hot.

“Can we start over? Hello, I’m Tilda, and you are?”

“Cullen, a pleasure to meet you,”

“Why yes, it certainly is,” she smirked, tilting her head. He seemed stunned rather than pleased so she pressed on. “So where am I, Cullen?”

“You don’t know where you are?” He asked.

“Not really, eluvians don’t usually come with instructions.”

“You came through an eluvian? I’ve only heard of those in legends!” He grinned.

“Uh yeah, anyway, where is this?”

“Ferelden.”

“Yes, I figured as much, but where?”

“Oh! Apologies. We’re in Honnleath,” Cullen replied matter-of-factly.

“No, really. Where are we?” She laughed.

“I’m not sure I understand why you think I would lie about that, but we are indeed in Honnleath. Redcliffe is several miles that way.”

“Huh,” She heaved a sigh and began pacing.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

“So let me get this straight. Here, in this Thedas, Honnleath never got invaded by darkspawn?”

“Dark what?”

Her jaw dropped. She'd heard of eluvians taking people to faraway places, but never to a different world. A different timeline maybe? Very strange indeed. “You’re kidding. You’ve got to be. You don’t even have darkspawn? Well shit. I really lucked out. No demons either then?”

“A myth told by the Chantry,” Cullen replied hesitantly.

“Okay.” She nodded.

“Are those common where you’re from?”

“Very. You guys been to war much?”

“What?” Cullen was adorable and completely sheltered by a land that had never known war.

“I’m staying here,” She murmured, mostly to herself. She made the decision without hesitation because fuck that conflict-ridden world. The maker had given her a chance to start over in a land with no big bad hanging over one’s head. “You guys probably don’t even have slavery here, do you?”

“No, not in Ferelden. There are some who aren’t opposed to the idea, but I am. Is that a problem for you, Tilda?” He asked sharply.

“Not at all, you misunderstand, I deplore slavers.”

Cullen smiled brightly, clearly relieved.

“Definitely staying here,” She said, louder this time.

“You’ll probably want to stay with one of my sisters for the time being,” Cullen said firmly. “I’m sure I can send a messenger on to let them know. I don’t think they’d mind.”

“Nah, I’m fine right here. Hopefully you can give me some insight on where and what this place is. Because right now it's a damn paradise compared to the Thedas I knew.”

“If you insist. Just for tonight until I can arrange something more fitting for you,” Cullen agreed reluctantly, leading me towards his house.

“Hey, Cullen I am not fussy at all. I was actually trying to get away from some demons. Nasty things, trust me.”

“If you weren’t opposed to it, I’d love to hear some tales of the way things are there.”

“To someone who’s only known peace, I’m sure they’ll sound very grand but that’s not really what they are,” She replied.

Cullen gestured for her to sit while he fetched cups and a pitcher of water.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He sat everything down, including slices of hearty bread with butter and jam before sitting down.

“Should have made tea,” he murmured to himself.

She put a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to be so nervous, Cullen.”

“I’m not, at least I don’t think I am. I don’t get much company that I welcome other than my family so I suppose I am feeling a bit out of sorts.”

“So you get a lot of unwelcome company then?” She arched a brow at the blush that stole over his face. “Let me guess, a handsome man like you probably gets lots of proposals?”

“No!” He sputtered.

“So more than a lot?” She pressed.

“Maker’s breath. I don’t think they’re proposals. But they do ask me to meet them at some place in Redcliffe it's either a fountain or statue or something, I'm afraid I don't concern myself with the specifics. I always tell them that I’d rather not make the trip and leave things unattended for so long. There are many older people living in the area, I worry about them you see.”

“Wow,” she giggled. “So you’re turning down loads of people so that you can help the elderly. You’re a real charmer, huh Cullen?” She tried to bite back further laughter as he blushed even harder.

“It just seems like the right thing to do!” Cullen huffed.

“I’m sorry. That’s just so precious.”

They talked well into the evening about his family, her own family and things they like to do when they have the time. Conversation lulled only when their stomachs growled loudly. Cullen chuckled and got up to make dinner.

“Would you like some help?”

“No, you're a guest, please rest. I'm sure you need it after today. Demons, huh?”

“Yeah, demons. Horrible things.”

“What were you doing before you encountered them?”

“There was a war with mages and templars that hadn’t been going well for either side so there was an agreement to meet peacefully to talk. I was marching to the temple of sacred ashes with friends from my former Circle in hopes of making an accord or at least some sort of pact, but I think there was an explosion, some woman urging me on… I can't seem to remember that part. It's not important though; seems more like a nightmare than anything.” She tried to push away the thought of what it would mean to the Thedas she knew that the only way anyone thought there'd be peace had perhaps disappeared in a giant flash of green flame. Mages would certainly be painted the villain. She sighed heavily.

“It sounds important.” Cullen looked worried, his brows furrowed thoughtfully.

“I doubt a simple alchemist like myself would make any difference in the oncoming storm there,” She chuckled humorlessly.

“Maybe it's the romantic in me but I've read many stories where one person makes all the difference. I truly believe that's possible. And you've fought demons before so it seems that you'd do a lot better than someone like me.”

“That's kind that you think so much of me, but more to the point; are you trying to get rid of me already, Cullen?” She feigned deep offense, laying a hand against her chest.

“Of course not! I just don't think I should put my own desire for agreeable company above the fate of the world. Even if it isn't my world.”

“So you find me agreeable? Only agreeable?” She teased.

“Stop that,” he huffed.

“I’m sorry, but you make it very easy to tease you,” she grinned sweetly at him.

He set down a pot of tea then two plates laden with cheese, cured meats, apples and more of the hearty bread from earlier.

“Let's just eat.” He sat across from her, a blush reaching his ears.

Seeing him get flustered over the smallest things was just too much.

“Are there mages and templars here?” She asked around a mouthful of bread.

“Slow down. The food’s not going anywhere, my lady.” Cullen chuckled at her frown.

“They're not very common. I've only met two mages in my life and not a single templar,” he said.

“Do templars rule over mages?”

His brow creased. “No. Why would templars need to rule over mages?”

She began to tell him about demons, harrowings, tranquil and the rite of annulment some mages had been threatened with.

“Templars, where I come from anyway, operate under this guise that they need to protect mages from themselves. In my own experience many templars fancy themselves as jailors to mages, think themselves beyond reproach. Some do really bad things. Tormenting someone who cannot fight back, either because they fear retribution or in the case of tranquil where they’re incapable of standing up for themselves because the spell doesn’t let them is abhorrent. Those templars are rarely reprimanded.”

“But couldn't mages just supervise each other? It hardly seems fair. And no one deserves to be made tranquil,” Cullen huffed.

They sat in companionable silence for some time before she spoke again.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She whispered.

“I'd be honored to keep your secret, my lady.”

“I actually considered becoming tranquil.”

“Why? Why would you give up your free will?” Cullen asked, completely aghast.

“I didn't want to leave myself open to corruption. It was something that had been drilled into me so heavily to the point of paranoia. But one of my instructors convinced me to go forward with my training. That it was okay to be unsure, but to hone your mind like a blade and always be on watch. To be cautious but bold.”

“They sound like a really great person.” Cullen smiled at her.

“Yeah, thanks Cullen.” She sighed happily. “I haven't told anyone that since my instructor all those years ago.”

“If you’re truly intent on staying, we could use an alchemist in the area. As I said there are many elderly people living nearby and the nearest alchemist is in Redcliffe. Having one closer could make all the difference,” Cullen said quietly.

“Is there some place I could stay for longer than a single night? I don’t want to besmirch your honor, ser Cullen,” she said playfully.

“I’d have to ask around.”

“Don’t worry too much. I could find a cave somewhere out there and become a real ‘witch of the wilds’,” she giggled.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, there are bears and wolves aplenty out there.”

“Cullen, I’ve fought demons and darkspawn. I’m sure I can fend off some wildlife.”

“I’d rather you not have to though,” Cullen said softly, his brow creasing once more. He seemed deep in thought before he slapped a hand on his knee. “There’s an old fishing shack near the lake, I could fix it up a bit for you. It’s not far from here.”

“As long as it’s not too much trouble.”

“It should only take a few days. You can stay here in the meantime. I’ll sleep there.” He stood abruptly and began to walk towards the door.

“Surely it can wait until tomorrow. I could help,” she reasoned.

“No time like the present,” he grinned. “I’ll return in a few days, though I might stop in for food every now and then if I can’t find any game.”

“But what about supplies? Nails and things.”

“I can get those tomorrow. I’m mostly going to check the damage and gather lumber.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re really something.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“Please don’t push yourself too hard. I’d rather you not hurt yourself just for…” She couldn’t help trailing off.

“No, I’d really appreciate having an alchemist in the area. This is simply a service to the community!” He chuckled.

“I’d still like to help, Cullen. It’ll be dark soon and it’d be a lot easier to see in the dark with help.” She held out a hand and summoned veilfire to her palm. “Are you sure I can’t convince you?”

“That’s amazing. I-I suppose that would be very helpful.”

She checked her bag for the basics, bedroll, soap and a change of clothes. He packed his own bag with the same, including food and basic cooking supplies.

“And to think you were just going to walk out the door without all this,” she chuckled.

“I was a bit eager, I suppose.”

She nodded and followed him outside and towards the shack, he picked up an axe by the door on their way out. When they arrived she saw no damage, and thought it needed no repairs.

“No, no, it needs some kind of insulation, tar or something between the boards. You can see inside from here. And besides, it’d be much too cold, my lady.”

“There’s a fireplace and a bed. I don’t need much more than that, Cullen.”

“No, this is unacceptable.” He shook his head and frowned.

“You’re very stubborn,” she commented.

“Maybe so, but I will make certain this place is comfortable several days from now.”

They set down their packs and searched for suitable lumber.

“You’re not cutting down a tree right now, are you?” She asked alarmed.

“No, I was just going to mark them with chalk then come back tomorrow with tools and possibly some additional hands for heavy lifting. My sisters are both betrothed to strong men, and will likely need little convincing to help bring an alchemist to the area.” He ran a hand through his hair. It was curling around the edges from the heat.

She built a fire when dusk approached.

“You can head home now. I’ll be fine here for tonight.”

“What, don’t be ridiculous. I’m sleeping here. I’ll walk you back. You deserve comfort after the day you’ve had.”

She shrugged. “I’m quite accustomed to roughing it, Cullen.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, my lady.”

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?” She frowned at him.

She tried to settle in his bed after watching him go but instead ended up browsing his bookshelves. Hidden behind several books on sword and armor care was a book called ‘Hard in Hightown’ the cover was much different than the copy she'd seen in her own world. She grinned. Who would have thought Cullen would have smut like this? She settled onto the couch and began to read. Before she’d realized she’d gotten to the last chapter.

“My lady? I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer, are you alright?” Cullen asked as the front door cracked a bit.

“Yes, I’m fine. Come on in.”

“What are you reading?” His smile seemed to rival the sunlight streaming through the door behind him before he shut it.

“Oh, just a little something called ‘Hard in Hightown’.”

He visibly paled.

“It’s quite good, actually. I wasn’t expecting much from a title like that, but it distracted me enough that I didn’t sleep. I must have lost track of time.”

“Maker’s breath,” he sighed. “I apologize, I’ll take that back now. It should be nothing more than kindling.”

“But I’m almost finished! Have a seat.”

Cullen looked nervous, but sat beside her on the couch.

She feigned intense focus and watched him squirm from the corner of her eye.

“Maybe I should make some tea,” he muttered, going to stand. She set her hand across his restless legs to still them.

After she’d finished the story, including the autographed page at the back, she closed the book and set it down.

“So why does he call you Curly? Is it because of your hair?”

Cullen nodded.

“He’s a writer in my world as well. Mostly of crime novels. Is this what he’s best known for? Erotic romance?” She smirked as Cullen went pink and nodded again. “Okay, I’ve tortured you enough. Let’s eat then get to work. I plan to earn my keep in any way I can. Well, save for how some of the folks in the book earned it,” she giggled. Cullen hid his face in his hands and groaned.

“I’m truly sorry that you saw that, my lady.”

“I’m not. It was a good way to spend an evening.”

“You sure you’re not too tired?”

“Cullen,” she began, exasperated. “I'll be fine.”

“As you will, my lady.”

☙ ☙ ☙

After having a quick breakfast of eggs and smoked meat they headed to the lake.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me to tell anyone of how you got here,” Cullen said quietly.

“Hm, I suppose it would pose a lot of questions,” she replied.

“I only told them that you're an alchemist and you thought this would be a nice place to settle in. I hope I didn't speak out of turn.”

“Not at all. Thank you, Cullen.”

Once they'd gotten close to the clearing by the lake a blond man was waving enthusiastically and wore a bright smile.

“This is Alistair and this is Thom,” Cullen said.

“Good morning, my lady,” Thom said, looking up from papers he had spread over a stump.

“So Cullen tells us you're the alchemist who fell from the sky,” Alistair chuckled. “He didn't tell us what a beauty you are, though.”

“Yes. He did.” Thom said flatly.

“Should I tell Mia that her betrothed is flirting with other women?” Cullen was flushed all the way to his ears but wore an intense frown.

“I don't mean any of it! She knows I'm only joking, see she's smiling. You're no fun at all, Cullen. He's a real mood killer isn't he Thom?” Alistair said.

Thom hummed thoughtfully.

“How long have you been an alchemist, Tilda?” Alistair asked.

“I started helping my mum when I was small, but I polished my skills in a mage academy.”

“Are you from Tevinter then? I hear that place is crawling with mages these days.”

“I'm not, but the mage academy was in Tevinter, yes.” She was lying through her teeth. She'd never even been to Tevinter! “But I haven't been there for some time. I've mostly been wandering Ferelden.”

“Where are you from, then?”

“Ostwick,” She answered truthfully.

“Shall we get to work then?” Cullen asked. “Thom can you show her your plans?”

Thom nodded.

They'd planned to give the shack siding and shutters for the few windows. True to Cullen’s word, they’d all finished before the week was out. Thom had come back a few days later with a cabinet well suited for alchemy. There were over a dozen small drawers, shelves for empty vials and cabinets beneath it for larger tools like a brew pot and kettle. It was a lovely gesture and she thanked him profusely for his kindness.

Shortly after settling in and stocking up on herbs for common potions and cures she was often visited by Cullen.

“Are you sure you don't need any help, my lady?”

“You could call me Tilda for a change,” she teased him.

“I'm being polite,” Cullen argued.

“As you will then. Do you need something? A love potion perhaps? Now that you don't have to dote on the elderly you should be free to accept invitations from admirers.” She couldn't help smirking at him.

“Maker's breath,” he whispered. “Call me a prude if you will but I don't know if I'm ready for all that. I'm building an archway for my sisters weddings.”

“It's okay to not be interested in romance, Cullen.”

He sank down into a chair at the small table she'd squeezed in for dining on.

“It's not that I'm not interested,” he began hesitantly.

“But?”

“It's just as I've said. I don't think I'm ready. I have so many ideas of what romance should be and I don't want to make a mistake.”

“You can't expect to be perfect at the start. And if you find the right person they'll understand and help you through any inexperience you might have. Communication is the most important thing in a relationship.”

“That seems very wise. Did you leave anyone behind in… that other world?” There was a look in his eye that she'd never seen.

“Most certainly. Left a trail of broken hearts all the way here.”

“You're seeing someone now? I had no idea.”

“I'm joking, Cullen. There's not much room for romance in a circle. Was just a few unpleasant experiences that aren't worth mentioning.”

“Oh.”

“I hear Annabel is pretty sweet on you. Alistair said that she's brought you so many pies that you've begun sharing. I have yet to get one of them.” She feigned offense.

“It seemed wrong. I don't know why. If you like I can bring one.”

She let a silence fall between them.

“I'm sorry, my lady. I wasn't trying to hide it or anything.”

She stood and turned away from him to hide her grin.

“They're not even very good.”

She burst into laughter.

“You're worse than Alistair,” he huffed indignantly.

“Pah, I'm far more charming.”

“I suppose,” Cullen mumbled, a blush coloring his cheeks.

“Mister Rutherford, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting just now!” A woman with curly blond hair stood in the open doorway.

“Mia!” Cullen yelped.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #female trevelyan #cullen rutherford #dai #fanon writes fic

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amusewithaview · 5 years

Text

Triple Trouble (DA:I AU)

The first thing she did on waking was shriek because the last thing she remembered was booting up Dragon Age and the first thing she opened her eyes to was a goddamn elf. Staring down at her was an honest-to-Thor elf complete with pointy ears, the complex version of Mythal’s vallaslin in a vibrant green that stood out from her peachy complexion, and a pissy expression on her face.

“Which one are you?” the elf asked, poking at her gently. “Uru, Phoenix, Wah-”

“Lucide?” she asked, recognizing the voice with shock.

“Amuse!” the elf - probably @lucide-dreamer-dreams - cried in delight and gently hugged her. ‘Gentleness’ was required on account of the chains that wrapped around both of their wrists.

She looked over the elf’s shoulder and let her eyes follow the chains to a large post in the center of the room - dungeon - and found a second person sitting there cross-legged. On first glance, the secon person - another elf - was identical to Lucide, literally identical from complexly braided hair to ears and eyes and nose and even outfit. A second look showed that the vallaslin was different: Dirthamen’s in a dark purple.

“Hi,” the second elf said, waving one hand with a faint clink of metal.

“That’s Shenanigans,” Lucide said. “She woke up first.”

Amuse looked around and - yep, this was the basement of the Haven Chantry all right. The only thing missing from her memory of the game’s prologue was the guards but a closer look at her surroundings showed that there were a few posted at the door that led to the hallway, all watching the three of them suspiciously.

“They don’t speak English,” Lucide said, then continued in another language entirely, one that Amuse somehow understood perfectly: “We speak Trade though! And I think Elvish too, if we work at it.”

“What...the fuck.”

“It’s like that story we talked about!” Lucide said, sounding half-excited and half-terrified. “You know the one with-”

“What the fuck,” Amuse repeated.

“Lie back and think of Thedas?” Shenanigans, most likely @neverending-shenanigans offered up helpfully.

She wracked her brain trying to think up the details for that particular plot bunny they’d cooked up during a livestream jam. “So...we’re triplets?” she asked, reaching up and wincing when her fingers came in contact with sharply pointed ears. “And I have-”

“Simple Sylaise, in a sort of golden-orange color. Goes nice with our eyes!”

“Our eyes,” Amuse echoed and took another, closer look at her companions and now, apparently, sisters. Ash brown hair and light skin, amber-brown eyes and...wait a minute. “How tall are we?”

“I’m taller than I was before,” Lucide said, clearly upset.

“I’m a little taller,” Shenanigans said.

“You guys made me shorter,” Amuse growled. She lifted her hands, intending to push her fingers against her temples but a flash of green light distracted her. Her left hand had a diagonal slash across it, and it was alternating between bleeding what looked like green dust motes and crackling with light. She looked up in horror and found Lucide and Shenanigans helpfully raising their own left hands: Lucide’s was glowing eerily and Shenanigans’ was flickering like a candle in a breeze, both had the same intermittent crackle like static writ large...and green.

“Yeah, looks like we all touched Wolf-Boy’s special ball,” Lucide said.

“We’re all the Herald. Or...we could be,” Shenanigans said.

“Fuck... You,” Amuse gestured wordlessly at the two of them. “What the fucking fuck? Who the fuck... How the fuck...” She pressed her hands to her eyes until she saw starbursts of color other than green. “Fuck this fucking... what is this fucking....FUUUUUUUCK.”

Shenanigans and Lucide exchanged a long look.

“It’s probably a good thing I woke up first,” Shenanigans decided after a long moment. Then she frowned: “Wait, does this make me the oldest?”

#amuse writes stuff #triple trouble au #shenanigans will eventually be shortened to shen #lucide will eventually be shortened to lucy #amusewithaview will eventually be shortened to mews #for the record i am definitely the oldest #shenanigans is the reasonable middle child #lucide is the youngest who is always made of FITE ME #loosely based on actual tumblr friends but if i continued this i'd branch off and make y'all actual OCs #likely eventual cassandra/lucy and cullen/shen #shipping for mews is up in the air but based on discussion would probably be either solas or purple!hawke #DIDJA SEE WHAT I DID THERE WITH THE WAY THE MARK LOOKS ON EACH OF US???#lucy = spirit #shen = fire #mews = ice #and then we all have storm magic flavoring it a bit

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red-wardens · 5 years

Note

22, 24, 26 for the OC asks? :)

Thank you for the ask! I apologize that this will get a bit heavy/angsty

Worldstate 3: Alyss Amell

What kind of student were they/would they be in high school?

In Modern AU Alyss had mainly sad, unpleasant high-school experience. She was a timid bookworm with social anxiety and a very push-over disposition that made her a target for bullying. She was also a flute player in marching band, wore very conservative/old-fashion clothing, and always followed the rules- so she was even more the target of jokes and ridicule. She bore all these pains passively. Even when asked by suspecting teachers who these bullies were she would only tear up and refuse to give up names/faces.

Alyss was very prone to peer pressure and was coerced into doing many things she regrets including trying cigarettes (she hated them) and…more risque activities that left some psychological damage. Saying “no” had always been terribly hard for her. As a student though she mostly got good grades (unless she failed to complete assignments due to bouts of depression where she was powerless to due anything but lie in bed) and was considered a bright student by most of her teachers. She excelled most in sciences and English and often people would copy off her homework and tests.

What is their outlook on life? What is their philosophy / what do they think in general about living?

“I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” - Anne Frank

For a depressed girl she was always terribly optimistic. Alyss would always hope for the best out of everyone and in any situation which set her up for disappointment often, each more painful than the last. In Thedas she hoped she would never develop magic, after she did she hoped that the Templars wouldn’t find her, and once in the Circle she had hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Alyss was wrong about all these things but remained soft- unable to harden her heart into someone who could bare it all. As a mage she hoped she would never be tempted by demons into becoming a blood mage and she loathed herself for it when it came to be like that.

Alyss was a devout Andrastian and would pray often and even when those prayers went unanswered she still kept them up. She believed those alive should be kind to one another, and help whenever they could. She knew little of the cruelty of the world till seeing it first hand and it’s reality gradually became too much for her. Sacrificing herself to slay the archdemon was both a service to the world as much as an escape from it.

Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them (that still has an impact and why?

Easily Leliana. Alyss was always prone to crushes, but falling for Leliana was another thing entirely. She was the one bright light for her in all the darkness of the Blight and eased her despair. Leliana helped protect her and comfort her during the times she was unable to do so for herself- which was often. Alyss adored her faith and her manners and her stories and her desire to do good. Leliana saw the best in her when Alyss could not find anything in herself worth saving and, almost, made her believe she should be.

Least important is her mother. Somehow Alyss has a feeling Revka Amell is still alive somewhere, and while she doesn’t hate her, she has decided Revka has no place in her life anymore should she try to return. Revka left her and Alyss’ father and she doesn’t get to just come back and start over. She’s the one person Alyss was never able to forgive.

————————

From these: OC Asks

#alyss amell #my oc #my amell #answered asks #thank you for asking!#sorry these got sad :(#cw: bullying #cw: depression #cw: suicide

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scurvgirl · 5 years

Text

Heist

New AU? New AU.

Some world building: Fusion of magic and technology. Mages exist, but this is set in a sort of hybrid of future tech and magic. Not modern or ancient, but futuristic with magic!

Darevas and Felasel belong to @selenelavellan

Cirimeni belongs to @justanartsysideblog

Falon’din and the other Evanuris mentioned belong to @feynites

Minor Falon’din warning.

The Evanuris Museum Exposition. A beautiful building dedicated to the stolen wealth of the most powerful elven family in all of Thedas. Tall and white with energy running through it as the T1-AN Core makes its world debut as a reliable, and limitless, energy source. The Core sits in the main atrium of the building, though it needs no sun to power itself, Miriel knows that it casts a beautiful glow through the halls when it mingles with sunlight. It is as much an art installation as a power source.

As fascinating as the Core is, it is not her target tonight. Oh no, that would be too predictable, and impractical given her supplies. The Core is massive, weighing over five tons, and filled with so much energy that improper handling could not only kill her, but level everything in a ten mile radius. Miriel is a thief, not a murderer.

Miriel’s target, or rather targets, are smaller but just as worthy. Everyone will be expecting a move on the Core tonight, which makes other targets that much more appealing. After all, they don’t need the Core itself - just the blueprints on how it works. But that is late game, right now is just a game.

“We’re in position,” a feminine robotic voice hums in Miriel’s earpiece disguised as an elaborate ear cuff. Miriel smiles in acknowledgement, knowing that Cirimeni’s got eyes all over the building and can very well see her.

Normally she likes to be in the shadows, slinking in and out before anyone sees her. Tonight is a different story, though. There are too many guards to be able to successfully cat burgle anything. So Miriel is taking a page out of the old heist manual and going in as the distraction. Cirimeni and Fenris had debated vehemently with her about this, but it’s the best option.

She just happens to be his type.

Or at least close enough that the approximators she’s wearing can make her seem irresistible to the heir to the Evanuris wealth. Her contacts are blue, masking her golden eyes, and her face approximator softens some of the angles in her face, making her appear more doll like. Approximators cover her left arm and leg like hose, hiding the dark vine tattoos that swirl over almost the entirety of her left side. While she doesn’t think he cares about tattoos, they’re too distinctive and could give her away.

Miriel’s dressed herself in a low cut, high slit black halter dress that makes her golden skin practically glow. Her long honey blond hair is left long and down, enticing some idiot to grab it. Or perhaps a specific idiot.

“Invitation,” the guard asks at the front glass doors. Miriel smiles and produces the holographic invitation from her small purse.

“Aeva du Roche,” she purrs in a flawless Orlesian elven accent, “curator at the Jader High Museum.” The guard gives her a look and looks down at the holograph. He runs a hand over it, the electricity reacting to the slim finger piece he’s wearing on his ring finger. A band at the base of the piece clicks then turns a bright green.

“You’re cleared. Enjoy the party.” He steps aside, gesturing to the door. She half expects him to open it before she realizes that the door itself is a hologram. Eluvian tech? Fancy indeed.

She smiles at the guard, taking her invitation back before stepping through the door. The energy tickles the approximators, giving her tiny shocks along her arms, face, and leg. She shows no signs of discomfort, accustomed to the small shocks her little devices give her.

The inside of the building is more opulent and grand than the outside with immense custom made glittering chandeliers that glow blue with energy, glistening marble floors, and a roof made entirely out of glass. The ceilings are tall enough to make a giant feel small and she wonders if June took that thought into consideration when building - making sure everyone felt small when compared to the might and power of the Evanuris family.

Mythal must be delighted.

Miriel doesn’t mind feeling small, not like many of these ass kissing socialites who are only here to garner favor. Small things are rarely noticed and that is ultimately her goal - not to be noticed. Except for tonight, of course, she is banking on being noticed.

The front room is flanked by pillars that support the glass ceiling and those pillars create smaller alcoves where groups of people have gathered in meeting. Miriel walks down the center of the room toward the atrium, smiling at any passerby. The front room is for gossips, and while she normally is a fan, tonight is a mission.

The great double door are so large they cannot be opened by a person but instead either be opened by sensors or by runes. They are kept open tonight, however, allowing free exploration of the rooms. She steps through the threshold and into the atrium, and while she knows what to expect with the Core, she cannot help but gasp in awe of it. It’s...radiant, pulsating with energy within its titanium steel display case. She steps closer to it, unable to ignore how it beats like a heart -

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Someone says next to her. She turns quickly to see a tall man, a handsome tall elven man next to her. His dark hair is slicked back from his face, highlighting his bright blue eyes. This is Darevas Evanuris, son to Dirthamen Evanuris and nephew to Falon’Din, the heir. Not her mark but...enticing enough to engage in conversation certainly. He’s rumored to not be much older than she is, recently graduating with his MBA. She wonders where his twin is, the two are rarely seen apart.

Miriel lets her eyes drag over him for a second, appraising his build and his clothes, and that watch, before looking him in the eye. She smiles, “It is. A true marvel of engineering.”

Like most men, he is pleased at her roaming eye and seems to puff up just a bit for her, “I’m equally as impressed by how beautiful they made it. It’s nice to see the future is efficient and beautiful.”

“Oh yes,” she says, “It would be dreadful to have such a marvel be hideous. Especially to throw a party around it.” She is perhaps a tad too cheeky but Darevas chuckles.

“I am Darevas, by the way,” he says, offering his hand. She takes his hand, shaking it, turning it over gently to expose his golden watch.

“Aeva du Roche, a pleasure. And is this a Jacobson? Those are quite rare now, with modern technology.” She lets his hand go and he blushes slightly.

“Ah, yes. It was a gift for my recent graduation.”

“Oh? Congratulations are in order then. I would offer you a toast, but I am afraid we have no drinks.”

“We can’t have that, now can we?” Darevas looks around, spies one of the servers and beckons him over. He takes two glasses off the tray and offers one to Miriel with a charming smile. She accepts the champagne and clinks her glass to his.

“Congratulations, may your future be as bright as this marvel.” She sips from her glass, maintaining his eye contact.

“Thank you. And might I ask what is your occupation, Lady Aeva? Everyone here knows my family and business, it puts me at a disadvantage.”

Oh he is a charming one, isn’t he? She glances around the room, not seeing her mark. The night is still young and she has some time, she supposes. Getting in good with this little lordling may not be such a bad thing.

“I would not say that, your father has done quite a good job at concealing you from the public,” but not good enough to keep Miriel from digging, “I know little about you.”

“Ah, then might we play the game, then?”

“The Game? You speak to an Orlesian, darling, The Game manes something quite specific to us.” She teases and he chuckles.

“Ah yes, The Game. I merely mean the game that people who have just met each other play, where one asks a question and the other answers and asks a question in turn.”

“Oh, that game. Are you sure you are up to playing?” She teases, walking around him. He follows her a bit like a puppy. She can feel his eyes roaming over her body and for once she is not repulsed by the action. Men ogle her, they want her, and she is happy to put on a show as long as they adhere to all museum rules - look but no touching.

“I did suggest it,” he says.

“Very well. I shall begin. What is your degree in?”

“Business, specifically looking into ethics.” Now that is a surprise. Ethics from an Evanuris? Perhaps he learned about them to only better aid his family is breaking them. The family has had no issue in violating any code of ethics before. Killing people, embezzlement, theft of Dalish land and artifacts. She would not be surprised if the Core is stolen technology from the dwarves.

“I did not realize the family had an interest in business ethics,” she says off-handedly, looking at a rather dull human made bust of an old king.

“Ah, but perhaps it is not about my family and about me.” What a novel concept to have one of the Evanuris to want to step away some from the family’s interests. So novel a concept that it must be a lie.

As handsome as he is, Miriel must remember who he is, who his family is.

“Perhaps, and isn’t all higher education an ode to oneself?” she says, turning into a hallway that runs adjacent to the atrium. It is filled with more busts of famous historical figures that she doesn’t care to know.

“And you protest such things?” He asks and she chuckles.

“Hardly. Who is to say I have not written a symphony to myself with all my education?” She hasn’t, but she is playing someone who likely has.

“Have you?” He asks.

“I have. Bachelor’s, Master’s, a PhD. I am my biggest fan,” she plays.

“Dr. du Roche, then.”

“Yes,” she turns to him and leans up by his ear, “but you, darling, call me Aeva.” The air charges with slight magic and it reminds her of his lineage. The Evanuris are known to be mages and he is no different, it seems. Magic curls around them, prickling along the lines of her approximators.

“Very well, Aeva,” his voice is low and sends an involuntary shiver down her back. She needs to keep her purpose in mind, needs to not become caught up in whatever this is. Her loneliness is only outmatched by her outrage and determination.

My people will be free once again. And those blueprints are the key to said freedom.

“Do be a dear,” she says, “and show me this incredible building. I long to see what treasures your family has acquired.” Stolen more like. Darevas is a dear, though, offering his arm before he whisks her off around the museum. He is a good host, telling her about the pieces. She spots at least a dozen fake items and more that she knows to be stolen or at least acquired in illegal means. She’s seen them on the black market - she has even pawned a few of these at the beginning of her thieving career. To keep up her ruse, she tells him a few things about a couple of the pieces she knows.

By the time they return to the atrium she thinks that surely her mark has arrived. But she cannot see him and the band is cueing up a song.

“May I have this dance?” Darevas asks. She shouldn’t, it’s a bad idea, yet she finds herself taking his offered hand.

“I do so love to dance,” she says and lets him guide her across the floor. He is a marvelous dancer, leading her perfectly through the dance. It is a simpler formal dance to appeal to the widest cast of people here, but the way Darevas dances makes it feel more incredible than its actual simple steps.

The song ends and she finds she wants to keep dancing. It wouldn’t be so bad, she thinks, to stay and -

“Falon’din has entered the building,” Cirimeni says and she inwardly curses. Miriel smiles up at Darevas and draws a delicate nail down his cheek.

“You are a darling.” She extricates herself from his arms, dragging her hands down so that her fingers coil delicately over his watch. She unclasps it all the while maintaining his gaze. He is rapt with her and it almost makes her feel bad.

Almost. She steps away, disappearing into the crowd, slipping his watch into her purse. He won’t miss it. His family is made of money and if he throws a fit, she’s sure Mamae and Papae will buy him another.

Now she must set her trap for one of the worst members of the family. A rapist and a killer, Falon’din is kept along as a sort of embarrassing pet to Mythal. She makes sure the law doesn’t look at Falon’din overlong and in turn, Falon’din victimizes people throughout the land.

Miriel slinks into the shadows and up to the third floor, mapping her route. June Evanuris’s office is located at the back of the museum, overlooking both the atrium and the gardens. It is a spacious and gorgeous office but it is also sealed - only someone with Evanuris level clearance can enter. As much as a disappointment Falon’din is, he is an Evanuris. She pulls out a small appliance from her purse and places it on the door. It beeps to life and does a scan of the room beyond the glass. A hologram projects in front of the device, giving Miriel the ability to survey the room without setting off any alarms. She manipulates the hologram, looking at every nook and cranny. The blueprints are likely in a safe, on a password encrypted drive.

Aha! There, on the left wall there is a false panel. If she pops it open, it will reveal its secrets. All she needs is to get the drive, the others can solve the rest.

Next, she puts another device on the handle and activates it. This program alters the DNA scan to verify the person pulling the door is verified to enter. She has a strand of Sylaise’s hair but alas, the scanner requires a living person. The bug she’s using to override the scan isn’t even exactly overriding the scan, but rather programing it to ignore some of the DNA so that a relative to the verified person can enter.

Ah, gotta love black market tech. Unfortunately, Darevas is not close enough in relation to Sylaise for it to work with him. Miriel needs either a brother, a sister, a mother, or a father. Andruil is not at this gathering and Dirthamen is rumored to be unwavering faithful. She isn’t going anywhere close to Mythal or Elgar’nan. Sylaise herself is plastered next to June all night and will not be lured away.

That leaves Miriel with Falon’din.

Satisfied with her plan, Miriel peels off the reader and puts it back in her purse. She heads down to the atrium once more.

“Where is he?” she whispers.

“In the eastern wing of the atrium by the fountain, sulking.” He won’t be sulking for long. Miriel touches up her lipstick and fluffs her hair. Time to get this show started.

It should terrify her, what she is planning to do, but instead she feels a sick sort of glee. Nothing makes her happier than robbing assholes. The music in the hall rises as she descends the stairs.

There he is, leaning against a pillar, scowling at the fountain, arms folded over his chest like a petulant child. The only other person she loathes more is Mythal, but she is at least not trying to lure and seduce Mythal.

Miriel steps slightly out of the shadows and poses a little, tilting her head back, exposing her neck. Falon’din’s gaze flickers up, back down, then up again, settling on her.

Got him.

She shifts her weight and bats her eyelashes. Intent blazes in his eyes and stalks forward. She grins, crooking her finger at him before bolting up the stairs.

Have to be faster. She bolts up the two flights of stairs, flashing smiles back at her pursuer. His age has slowed him but he is still dangerous, she knows. At the top of the stairs, she turns and beckons him more.

“I found the perfect place,” she croons, backing up to June’s office.

He’s breathing heavily but still moving towards her.

“I can’t get it open,” she pouts, “maybe you’ll get it open?” She bites her lip, hoping he doesn’t just forego the room completely. Her luck is with her, however and he grasps the handle. There is a noticeable whirr then click and the door eases open.

“Oh you are amazing,” she purrs, slinking past him inside. Close the doo-

He follows her inside, grasps her hair and pulls.

“Ah!” She cries as he yanks her head back to look at him.

“You’re a tease, aren’t you?” He slants his mouth over hers and she has to resist gagging. The plan, she has to remember the plan. And fortunately, she planned for this occurance.

The fingers on her left hand press into her palm, typing in a code into a the approximator. Electricity seizes her arm and she shoves her hand up to Falon’din’s face.

He screams as the electricity courses into his body and the buzzer saps his magic but he is bigger than she anticipated and it’s not enough to down him like she had originally hoped.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” He shouts charging her. His hand comes around her throat as he throws her against the glass, making it crack. She cries out in pain before the hair is slowly squeezed from her. Her eyes go wide as she realizes she has made a horrible mistake.

He tears her dress down, exposing her.

Can’t breathe - ! But she can remember. Miriel gives a small hop, lifting her feet to launch a kick into his knees. He buckles, surprised enough that his grip loosens. She reaches up and pulls on his fingers, twisting them until break. He shrieks in pain but she doesn’t let up. She grabs his hair and knees him the face.

Go down, go down. But the bastard is tough and he is beginning to cast.

Shit! She leaps over to the desk and grabs a heavy vase. She clubs him over the head with it, then knicks him for good measure before noticing -

Oh no.

His head...is at a sickening angle. Blank eyes stare at nothing and she realizes he’s dead.

She killed him. The Falon’din Evanuris. She, Miriel of clan Bellenan of ill repute and questionable methods, killed Falon’din Evanuris.

She….she’s never killed anyone before.

“We’re coming! Get the blueprints!” Cirimeni shouts in her ear. Right, the...the reason she’s here. Swallowing back the urge to vomit, Miriel stumbles first to the computer. Might as well steal all the files. She plugs in the drive that will pull all the files then limps over to the wall. She presses the panel and a screen appears. Right, the safe. She raises her left hand with the approximator and presses it against the screen.

“Override it,” she says.

“On it,” Lasvala says. The current in her arm is horrendously uncomfortable as it always is, the prosthetic is still wired into her nervous system even if it is designed to be the ultimate subterfuge weapon. “Got it.”

The screen disappears and the panel slides down to reveal a small case. She grabs it just as the door opens and light blasts in from the party.

“Aeva!” Darvas shouts then looks down to see his quite dead uncle. Shit!

Horror crosses over his face and another person appears next to him, “You fought him off…what do you have?” The other person asks and she has no time to explain herself. They’ll kill her, she’s most wanted now. Goodbye Miriel the Thief, hello Miriel the Murderer.

Asshole had it coming, though.

She grabs the drive from the computer then turns, running to the window. She tosses a ball of electricity at the glass and it shatters just as she clears the threshold.

“AEVA!” Darevas shouts.

Overhead is the telltale whirr of the Bird - a weird cross between car, helicopter, and plane. Miriel grabs the lowered cable with her left hand and it takes off, pulling her up as it sails over the gardens.

Her last view of the museum is of Darevas at the broken window, stunned and horrified. She shouldn’t care, really shouldn’t, he’s one of them. It doesn’t matter that he’s into ethics and a divine dancer or that he could potentially be different. Because he’s not different.

The Evanuris are users and abusers.

And she killed one tonight.

The hatch opens up and she crawls into the Bird.

“Took you long enough,” Cirimeni says through her Artificial-Voice Modulator Torque - Y edition, or AMITY for short. “Did you get it?”

“I killed him,” Miriel murmurs, “but yeah, I got it. Plus all their files.”

“Yes! Shit, Miri, you were so cool! Something outta the movies,” Lasvala says as they help her into a seat.

“Maibrit will be happy,” Cirimeni says as she flies the Bird higher into the sky to avoid detection.

“Yeah.” Miriel leans against the seat and tries to calm down. She did it, she got the blueprint.

And became a killer.

#my writing #heist au #miriel #darevas #mirevas #eventually?#cirimeni #lasvala #falon'din #i woke up inspired and this happened #any day where i can beat up or kill fd is a good day #Falon'Din's Type Fights Back

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darlingrutherford · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Time in Thedas update!

You can all thank @schoute not only for that amazing piece of Lanistair art the other day, but also for singlehandedly turning my heart into pure fluffy nonsense and helping me finish up the next chapter of my DA Cinderella AU. Without further delay, here’s chapter four of Once Upon a Time in Thedas! (Under the cut)

Trigger warnings for this series for mentions and scenes of mental/physical abuse.

Lana was floating on a cloud. She had felt that way since the previous night, falling asleep with a dreamy smile on her face and waking up with it still present. She couldn't get the ball out of her head, least of all Alistair. She knew it wouldn't do well for her to dwell on the memory of him and the time they had spent together, but she couldn't help it. She could still feel his hand on her waist, hear his laughter and smooth voice. Maker, she had never seen anyone look at her the way he had, as if no one else at the ball had existed and she were worthy of his attention. And the feeling of his hands. His touch had been so soft. When had anyone touched her that way before? As she swept the floor, Lana swayed side to side, humming to herself as she imagined the two of them on the dancefloor, together once more. Would he be there again that night? Would he want to dance with her again? She barely knew him, and yet she knew she would give anything to dance closely with him again, if only for one more night.

Is this what love feels like?

Her heart fluttered as the question crossed her mind. Red rushed to her cheeks, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth as she floated with the broom. Her feet mirrored his, following the pattern of one of the slower songs they had danced to. If she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she were there…

“How can you expect to see what you're sweeping when your eyes are closed!”

Lana was jarred out of her daydream, reality crashing into her as her mother smacked her ear. She tried to control her wincing as her ear stung, quickly returning her gaze to the floor as she swept faster.

“Sorry, mother,” she said quickly. Her mother huffed, mumbling under her breath as she returned to her work in the kitchen. Lana hummed no more, but the smile slowly crept back as she swept, as the feeling of Alistair's hands on hers returned and led the way.

That evening Leliana returned once more, once the sun had long since set and Lana's parents had gone to sleep. This time Lana was ready, waiting at the window for the moment Leliana’s silhouette appeared in the garden.

“You're awfully eager to return, aren't you?” Leliana teased as Lana quietly climbed out her window and carefully closed it behind her. Lana smiled eagerly as she followed Leliana, waiting until they were away from the house before she spoke.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day,” she said, her voice still a whisper despite how far they had walked into the woods. Leliana led her to the same spot as before, and Lana eagerly changed into the blue dress and golden slippers.

“You danced with that tall man for some time,” Leliana said with a knowing grin. Lana blushed at the mention of Alistair, her heart pounding eagerly. “Is he being kind to you? Sometimes nobility can be a bit pushy.”

“I’m not so sure he’s a noble,” Lana said. Leliana had moved to her back, undoing her braid and resetting it into one looser that ran towards her back. She twisted the hair at the sides, weaving it through the braid.

“No?” Leliana smiled as she finished with Lana’s hair before looping her arm with hers and starting off towards the main road.

“He made jokes about some of the nobility quietly a few times. I’m not sure if that’s something lords do?”

“Is that what you two were giggling about?”

“He is awfully funny,” Lana said. She barely paid attention to everything they passed on the way to the palace this time, too engrossed in her thoughts about Alistair and her excitement of seeing him again. “I hope he’ll be there again tonight. Do you think he will be?”

“I’d be very surprised if he wasn’t,” Leliana said. If Lana didn’t know any better, she would have thought the way Leliana spoke about Alistair sounded almost teasing, as if she knew him. Still, Lana supposed, Leliana was a Sister of the Chantry. She must have known a great many people.

As the two of them walked up the great steps into the palace and inside, Lana looked around the hall, observing everyone. All the ladies seemed to be in dresses and gowns more extravagant than the night before, some glittering with gems while others had intricate embroidery hand stitched to expensive fabrics. One of the women walked by, wearing a gown gold in color with shimmering lace and a skirt that dragged on the ground. Lana felt the judging glance as the woman looked Lana over from head to toe, apparently recognizing her dress from the night before. The woman smirked with a huff and a proudly tilted chin as she walked by. Leliana patted Lana on the shoulder, giving her a quick wave before slipping off into the crowds. As Lana began looking around, she jumped as she heard a loud bark from a door near the back of the hall. Quite a few guests jumped out of the way of something Lana couldn’t see, until a great grey body running on four legs found its way through the crowd and stopped suddenly at her feet. Lana had never seen a mabari in person until then, however she had read about them in books and quickly recognized the face of an intelligent creature pining for attention as it barked up at her.

“Hello there,” Lana said sweetly. The mabari was massive, with its nose parallel to Lana’s chest. She reached out, petting the dog on his head. The dog eagerly pushed his nose up against her hand before directing her hand behind his ear.

“He’s obsessed with ear scratches.”

Lana looked up, her heart pounding as she found Alistair walking towards her with a huge smile on his face. He had completely stepped around the woman from before and a group of others, and for a moment Lana wondered why they all looked so perturbed.

“Is he?” Lana’s voice practically cooed as she looked back at the dog, curling her fingers and scratching behind his ear as his tongue flopped out excitedly.

“He’ll never let you leave now,” Alistair chuckled. “Not many of the guests enjoy when he crashes the party.”

“Well, they don’t know what they’re missing, do they?”

Alistair smiled as Lana gave Bryn another pat on his nose before the dog took off towards the other doorway.

“I had almost thought you weren't coming,” he admitted. Maker, but he couldn’t stop smiling now that she was there. The night so far had been so dull without her. Even something as simple as hearing her voice was enough to raise his spirits and calm his racing mind.

“After last night, how could I not?” Lana responded with a bright smile, looking up at Alistair with warmth in her eyes.

“You left so quickly, I wasn't sure… Did I say something wrong?”

“No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… I, well… Had a curfew,” she said quickly. She didn't want to lie, but, ‘My parents don't want me here. Or out of the house, at all,’ was difficult to say. At least it wasn't a complete lie.

“Well, that's a relief,” Alistair said, visibly relaxing as he breathed out the words. “You've only just arrived… Do you want to… Eat something? Have a drink? Dance again -”

“Dance! Yes, that would…” Lana paused to clear her throat, blushing at her own eagerness that had caused her to interrupt him. “I would love to dance with you again.”

“After our practice last night, I think I may step on your toes fewer times than before, but I make no promises.”

Lana was on a cloud again, and this time, Alistair was with her. Everyone else in the hall seemed to fade away as they danced together. Alistair held her closer than the night before, never taking his eyes off of her as they talked, and laughed, and danced as one. More than once Alistair caught Lana humming along to the music, sometimes caught up in a song of her own, and each time he felt his heart fill more and more for this woman who had wandered into his life. As far as Alistair knew she was still blissfully unaware that he had recently been crowned King, and for the moment he was happy to keep it that way. For now, the woman who had more than once rested her head against his chest as they swayed to the slower songs only to straighten with a furious blush when she noticed, she was doing it because she felt comfortable, with him. With Alistair, not the King. Not the man people had been clamoring to speak to only for the hope of becoming his Queen. Somehow, miraculously, they had found one another, and he knew he couldn't let her slip away again.

“You'll be sick of dancing with me by the end of the night,” he joked as yet another song ended.

“I don't think that's possible,” Lana replied. Pink covered her cheeks, flushing towards her ears as she blushed. As another song began, Lana waited for Alistair to lead, tilting her head curiously as he paused.

“Come with me,” he said quietly with a grin. His hand left her waist, though his other gently squeezed her hand as his fingers laced with hers. Lana followed him as he led her off the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds.

“Where are we going?” Lana asked. Her heart was pounding as she bit her lip, her smile growing as he looked back at her.

“I wanted to show you something,” Alistair explained as he gently pulled her to the side. Lana followed him along the side of the hall and out a set of doors that led to a balcony. Outside it was much quieter, the sound of music and merriment drifting in from the hall inside. The night air was cool, wrapping around Lana and causing her skin to prickle. She paid no mind to the cold as she gripped the stone railing, her eyes fixed on the view of the palace courtyards and Denerim beyond, all seemingly peaceful in the light glow of torches.

“It's beautiful out here,” she breathed in awe. She had never seen the city like this from such a height, all the stars in the night sky twinkling down on them. Each night of the ball seemed like such a dream to her. She took her time, gazing out at the world in front of her, storing it in her mind for another day when she would need it most.

Alistair watched her, smiling at the way she looked at the world as if it were her first time seeing anything like it. The way she looked at everything was so innocent. Anyone else may have glanced at the view and turned away, but she was in awe of even the smallest things. Lana turned to look at Alistair, smiling as she found him watching her.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Yes. Well… Not exactly,” he admitted. He smiled sheepishly as he scratched just behind his ear, his eyes wandering to the stone railing as he tried to find his words. “I… Well, you see, I… And you are so…” He trailed off, huffing slightly as he tried to focus. Maker, but this was more difficult than he had thought it would be. He looked over to the side, regarding a cluster of climbing roses that had reached the railing. He smiled, carefully picking one of the red roses from the branches. Twirling it in front of him for a moment, he finally found what he wanted to say.

“Denerim is large. There are so many people, but… It can be a bit empty. Ever since I came here from Redcliffe, I've had to strain to find anything that stands out from the rest. But, beautiful things seem to hide in plain sight, I suppose. Like this rose. Or… You.”

“Me?” Lana said it quietly, unsure if she should be shocked, flattered, or if he was out of his mind. She flushed from ear to ear as he offered the rose to her with a smile, feeling something akin to electricity run through her as their fingers brushed.

“I don't know if I should be upset, or thrilled that you don't seem to know how beautiful you are,” Alistair chuckled nervously. “But… If I don't tell you now, someone else is bound to, and I can't… I don't want to miss my chance… May I kiss you, Lana?”

“You want to kiss me?” Lana repeated in disbelief. She could feel heat rush to her face as he nodded and stepped closer to her. His hand wrapped around hers that held the rose as he leaned low. Lana's free hand raised to meet his arm as he steadied her, her grip tight as his lips met hers. Maker, but it was as if fireworks had set off in her mind. His touch was so gentle, so warm.

“Maker, I'm sorry,” Alistair mumbled quickly when he gently pulled away, and Lana quickly wiped away the tear that had fallen from her eye without her even noticing.

“No, please, it's not - it's a good thing, I think,” she said quietly. Her heart was pounding in her throat. Against her better judgement, ignoring the warning bells in her mind, she couldn't help herself. She found herself pressing onto the balls of her feet, stretching to get as close to him as possible, and Alistair eagerly met her the rest of the way. His kiss was like air. Each time their lips parted for a moment she would press back, and he in turn, each melding to the other as her lips quivered and his heart threatened to burst from his chest.

“Your Majesty! A word?”

Lana thought little of the words at first. Then, as Alistair begrudgingly pulled away from her, horror set in to her gut as he turned to face the man who had called for the King. Alistair gave Lana a regretful smile, taking her look of shock for general embarrassment from being caught kissing than anything else.

“I'll just be a moment. Don't go anywhere, please,” he said, bringing the back of her hand to his mouth and giving a much longer, warm kiss to it than the previous night. As Alistair walked to the other end of the long balcony to speak to the man, panic took over Lana. He was the King. Maker, but he had made that joke about sharing the same name - she had taken it only as such, a joke. She had just kissed the King of Ferelden.

“You need to spend time with the other noble ladies you have yet to speak to,” Eamon was muttering in a low voice. “You cannot expect to find the next Queen of Ferelden if you spend all your time with one elf.”

“Yes, it would be a shame if I spent the entire evening with someone I connected with, wouldn't it?” Alistair responded sarcastically. “I know you have your list, but this woman is perfect. You should meet her -”

Alistair held his hand out to gesture towards Lana, turning his head and stopping mid sentence as he saw her dashing back into the hall. Not wanting to lose her for one more night, Alistair took off after her, leaving Eamon behind as he shouted after him. Alistair had difficulty getting through the hall, groups of lords and ladies both blocking his path as they vied for his attention. Each time, Alistair would profusely apologize as he ran around each group, trying to keep his eyes on Lana as she grew further and further away.

Lana's heart was pounding. Her watering eyes made it difficult to see as she tried to best remember how to get out of the palace. Maker, she was an idiot, thinking she could sneak out and have nothing bad happen. Her parents may not have caught her, but she had fooled royalty, tricked him into caring for her even in the slightest when she wasn’t fit for anyone. Surely that would carry a grand punishment on its own.

“Stupid, stupid Lana,” she muttered with a quivering voice. Tears fell as she ran, her skin prickling as the cool night air met her. Her feet carried her quickly down the steps that led to the courtyard. She had nearly reached the bottom when she tripped, catching her ankle with her other foot. She cried out as she tumbled down a few steps and landed on the ground.

“Maker, my shoe,” she groaned as she got up. She began taking a step towards the stairs to retrieve the shoe that had slipped off in her fall, but the sound of Alistair yelling her name from just beyond the doors at the top made her stop. One shoe on her foot, she slipped through the gates and ran into the night.

By the time Alistair reached outside, Lana was nowhere to be seen. His heart sunk, confusion setting in for the second night in a row. He walked down the steps as something gold caught his eye, crouching as he picked up the small shoe. He stared at it in silence. Had it been something he said? Had he kissed her too soon? She had seemed to be enjoying it, had she only been being kind when she kissed him back? She hadn't seem to know the first night that he was the King, had it shocked her too much? He held the shoe close to him as he stood, taking one last look around, and praying to the Maker for her return the following night before heading inside.

Lana didn't stop running until she returned home. Out of breath, she removed the shoe and dress before stashing it in the brush near the tree her and Sister Leliana often spoke near - her parents would not venture near there, opting to stay inside as it had been so cold as of late. She would see Sister Leliana the following morning for her lessons, and return it to her then. Climbing quietly through her window, Lana slipped on her nightgown and threw herself beneath her covers. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees as she cried. Maker, but what a fool she had been. She had made a fool of Alistair as well - the King. Both of these nights he had been at her side, not knowing how unworthy she would be of the title of Queen. He had wasted all this time with her when he could have been finding the perfect woman for him. No matter who he had been, it would have been a fairytale to expect her life to change after three nights. She had gotten wrapped up in the fancy of it, of being looked upon so favorably by his beautiful eyes. How could she possibly face him again after that night? Tomorrow would be like any other day: just her, her parents, her curse…

“Maker, forgive me,” she whispered to the dark.

#once upon a time in thedas #dragon age #cinderella!au #alistair theirin #alistair x surana #lana surana #lanistair #fanfiction #my ocs #my work

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selenelavellan · 6 years

Text

HWRC Redux AU

Previous Installments

Dirthamen, Deceit, and Fear are @feynites

Who’s up for some good ol’ fashioned Dirthalene pining, hm?

(warning for some very mild nsfw at the end)

It's a learning curve.

Selene spends weeks pouring through Dirthamen's libraries, carrying stacks into her rooms and staying up far too late reading through them. Some nights he'll crawl in and sleep beside her, or Deceit will stretch out with their head in her lap or Fear will perch somewhere in the room and pretend to not be watching her. Sometimes Des will come and steal them away, often at her request if she's feeling too...claustrophobic.

It takes some doing for her to find her balance again, between grading papers and making lesson plans and sometimes she'll borrow whoever is free to help her prep crafts for the children in her class back in Thedas. It's certainly a strange feeling, to see the God of Secrets filling paper stars with confetti for goodie bags.

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her when the glue fell open on Fear during paper mache practice. Really. Talons just weren't made for that sort of activity.

And the glue turned out to be even harder to wash out of their feathered hair, afterwards.

It's not until nearly a month into their tentative cohabitation that things start to feel strange to her again.

“My lady!” One of the sentinels calls.

It takes a moment for Selene to realize they are addressing her.

“Oh. Uh,” She flounders “You don't have to call me that. Selene is fine, really.”

“Of course, my lady Selene,” They say with a deep bow, and she has to bite back the impulse to roll her eyes. “Your Lord Husband is requesting your presence in his office.”

Selene's heart skips in her chest.

Her 'Lord husband.'

Her husband.

A strangely intimate term for the god who tricked her into their bond.

“Right,” She acknowledges all the same, pushing down on the strange twisting feeling in her stomach. “Thank you.”

“I'll make sure she gets there,” Des interrupts as he comes around the corner. “Thanks babe.”

The sentinel turns and bows again, face flushing slightly. “Of course, Lord Des. Thank you for your generosity.”

“That's me,” Des preens, slinging an arm over Selenes shoulders with a wink. “Lord Des the generous.”

Selene snorts while the sentinel takes their leave .

“I can't believe you.”

“What?” Des says, feigning an innocence he's never possessed.

“'Lord' Des. Really?”

“Oh yeah,” He grins. “I'm affiliated with you, and since you married the God-in-charge, I get a ridiculously good ranking. Technically I'm a 'consort', but hey, no complaints on my end.”

“And you like the title?”

“Are you kidding?” He says with a shimmy that makes his too-tight shirt ride up on him. “I'm thinking about learning how to write elvhen just so that I can turn it into my tramp stamp.”

Selene shakes her head with a sigh. “You're much more suited to this than I am.”

“Yeah, well; I didn't accept a ring from a magic bird.”

With a soft hum of affirmation, she pats his forearm and makes her own way towards Dirthamens office.

Her husbands office.

Something in her warms as the word passes through her mind, but she doesn't dare linger on it. Emotions are too easily read here, and if word got out that she might...that she might have real genuine feelings for a God, well...

She can't think of a single story where that ever ended alright for the mortal.

The sentries posted outside of Dirthamen's office open the doors for her when they see her approaching, and she has to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep from thanking them aloud; the last time she had done so, they had ended up in a nearly thirty minute loop of apologies and gratitudes and platitudes that only Deceit had managed to finally put an end to. Apparently manners only matter for people above your rank and the only person above her rank here, is Dirthamen.

“Hello,” She greets with a small, awkward wave. “You called for me?”

“Yes,” Dirthamen answers, motioning her to move beside him. “I was hoping for your input on the garden renovation.”

“I'm sure whatever you have planned is fine,” She says, even as she moves to look over his shoulder at the papers currently laid over his desk. “I'm not even familiar with most of your flora.”

“Are there any particular features you would like it to possess?” He asks anyways. “All of my resources are available to you.”

Selene pushes down on the flush trying to rise in her face at the way he glances up at her when he says it. He's wearing a mask dammit, she can't even see most of his face. Just the way the blue of his eyes reflect the light, looking up at her all earnest, and love filled, and...

Damn it all.

“A strawberry patch would be nice,” She relents. “I used to like growing them when I was younger, but the type I'm used to didn't grow well in the heat of the city.”

He nods, and she glances down at him as he scribbles something into one of the empty boxes (magical elvhen translation can't stand up to bad penmanship it seems, or maybe he's just writing in a code) and notices a familiar pale yellow color sticking out from the sleeves of his robe.

She blinks once.

Twice.

Her hands reach out to part his robe before she can think twice and-yes.

Yes, her shape-shifting god husband is wearing her yellow sunflower sweater underneath his magical official god robes.

“That's my sweater,” She says, as though perhaps, maybe, he might not have known. Might not have noticed her wearing it the day before.

“Yes.” is all he says though.

Selene nods, because really what else can she do?

“It suits you,” She blurts out, watching as the patches of skin exposed by the stretched out neckline flush and gleam with color at her compliment, the sight making her stomach do flips in a way she'd very much like for it to stop doing dammit.

“Thank you,” He says. “I hope you do not mind. You left it at the foot of our bed,” (Our bed, she repeats internally while her stomach does another flip and her heart starts pounding) “And I was quite distracted by the pleasant smell of your bodywash that lingered on it. Wearing it seemed more conducive to making it out of the bedroom.”

Selene swallows and nods again, trying very hard not to think about him curled up in bed (their bed, some traitorous part of herself helpfully supplies) with her sweater pressed up against them and finding other ways to spend their day than doing paperwork to renovate an already exquisite garden. Maybe he's having similar difficulties to her own; mind distracted by thoughts of wife, and romance and touch and-

No.

No, no, she's not-she's not letting her mind wander there, not now, not here.

Gods forbid she lights his desk or some irreplaceable text on fire and then has to explain why it happened.

Nope.

“That's fine,” She finally manages, carefully closing his robes again so she can stop staring at him wearing her sweater and very little else under his robe. “Not a problem at all.”

“Thank you,” He repeats, seemingly utterly clueless about her current internal struggle. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“What?” She says, voice cracking slightly as her mind shoots to inappropriate places and activities and her sweater and their bed and his body-

“For the gardens,” He clarifies. “Is there anything else you would like besides the strawberries?”

“Uh,” Selene struggles to find a clear, cohesive thought, tongue trailing absently over her lips. “Water? Like a fountain or...Some sort of body of water? Cold water. Cold water would be great, really.”

“Would a stream suffice?”

“So long as I can drown in it,” She mutters to herself, mentally willing her body to chill the hell out before more loudly announcing “Yes, a stream would be perfect. Thank you.”

“It is no trouble,” He assures her, writing another note onto the paper before him.

Selene takes her leave after that, making up a quick lie about promising to meet with Des about something, and running off to her (their, her mind reminds her, flashes of Dirthamen nude and dripping and gleaming rising up and quickening her steps) baths to try and cool off before she can ignite some important ancient relic or something.

She slides into the tub, goosebumps rising over her skin as she sinks into the cold of the water. Her hair spreads out around her shoulders as she rests her head against the edge of the tub and tries to clear her mind.

It doesn't work.

The temperature of the water rises as her mind fills with more thoughts of Dirthamen, sprawled out on their bed in nothing but the soft cotton of her sunflower sweater while his cheeks flush the way his neck had, of Deceit behind her with gentle caresses, soft whispers in her ear of ancient secrets and promises of eternity, of Fear prone and open and trusting, and all of them together with bodies writhing beneath her hands, her mouth, her...

fuck.

Her body relaxes as she lets herself fall away from her orgasm, the water steaming around her while she tries to catch her breath. Her cunt clenching around nothing as her fingers slide away, and she tries to convince herself she didn't just do what she definitely just did, mind running words on repeat that do nothing to calm her down.

Husbands.

Partners.

Vhenans.

Selene drags her clean hand down her face and lets out a soft curse.

She is in way over her head here.

And she doesn't, entirely, hate it.

#hwrc redux au #dirthalene #selene lavellan #des #gotta love the classics #wanted to do some good pining fluff #hopefully this suffices

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