#and she can’t trust anora because anora is too much like her and she’s already been wounded by the people in power

[pinkfey]

the thing abt rowena and alistair that kills me is how her making him king is (in her head) an act of love in the same way her parents sending her with duncan against her will was

#forcing fate on another bc it’s your only means of protecting them #dooming them to a life they never wanted but at least they’ll live a few years long #*longer #in her head there isn’t even a choice and that is fucked up!! of course there’s a choice!! his choice!! #bc in her head as long as he is alive he’s a threat to the crown and people will never leave him be #and she can’t trust anora because anora is too much like her and she’s already been wounded by the people in power #too much to trust anyone other than herself #so she makes him king and promises she’ll carry all of the burden and he relents only because he loves her #it’s so messed up !! tbqh !! warden alistair is the ideal to me #but it’s just not something rowena would do #there’s commentary about how a deeply traumatized TWENTY YEAR OLD should not be the one deciding the fate of a country #too much power in the hands of a girl so angered at those whose actions put her there #idk why i’m rambling i just. that decision is awful yet so complex. there’s so much going on there and so much that intersects !! #her and alistair her and anora her and eamon and loghain and howe….. #i know ppl hate when alistair isn’t a warden and especially when he’s still softened while made king it’s just !! it’s abt The Narrative 😔 #and they end up okay. they do. they’re okay. he doesn’t hate her for it. they love each other Too Much. it’s just !! u know !! a flaw !! #anyways.txt #ch: rowena cousland #x: a soft epilogue

[laurelsofhighever]

I have thoughts on the exalted council in DAI and i’d like your opinion of it. In a game where Alistair is king and leliana is devine why in the hell would it have gotten to the council to be had in the first place? I mean 2 of the most influential people in thedas are on a first name basis and surely would rather skip the theatrics. Especially considering that alistair has first hand experience in saving the world and the lines one needs to cross to do it 1/2

I mean alistair IS a grey warden and his wide is the Commander of ferelden’s grey wardens so why would he be bothered by the fact that the wardens join the inquisition bother him based on the fact that they are helping people and killing demons/darkspawn? Like that whole thing during the exalted council where teagan lists off ferelden’s grievances feels so... fake? Like if anora or loghain were on the throne? - ok. But alistair? I just feel they needed a way to go to 2/3

They needed a way to go to tevinter and possibly disband the inquisition and they chose the most convoluted nonsensical way to go about it... what do you think? (I don’t mean to bother you with these i just think you have a v good grasp on these games and i’m just curious on your thoughts. Feel free to ignore this if i’m bothering you or you don’t feel like answering.) the end 😅

--

I’ve been wanting to think about this, because it’s a very interesting topic, and when I start thinking about Dragon Age I find it very difficult to stop, but it’s been so long since I played Inquisition that I had to go back and watch it to see what Teagan says. And hooooooo boy I have some thoughts on this.

So, first, it’s important to point out that the issue with Trespasser is it’s trying to cover the scope of the entire franchise, which means the writers had to account for all the possible decisions players might have made through three games and somehow still have the Inquisition in the same position with just a few changes to the dialogue. That said, a lot of the problems I have personally with the structure of the council come directly from the massive plot hole in Inquisition that is Ferelden’s absent power structure. Teagan’s complaining about Caer Bronach? Why were the Inquisition the ones who had to sort that out? Where were the bannorn militia, or the royal army? Why did Fereldan’s monarch let rogue templars rampage across the countryside and dig in at Therinfall Redoubt? Why aren’t Fereldan forces helping out in the Hinterlands? Orlais has the excuse of being embroiled in a civil war, but Ferelden, whoever is in charge, has spent the last ten years recovering from a Blight, it has a stable monarchy, and they should at least have a standing army to deter any thoughts of invasion from across the border. The actions of the Inquisition make no sense and it means all of Teagan’s complaints are pretty much spot on.

But. Ignoring all of that.

You’re right that Teagan’s arguments seem a bit... off. The first thing to point out is that the Wardens never actually invaded Ferelden. Sofia Dryden, who had been a Fereldan noble before she was conscripted, joined forces with the Couslands to depose a tyrant, and they lost, and then the Wardens were driven out as punishment It’s unclear how common this knowledge is among Fereldan nobility, but considering his fear is that the Inquisition represents a powerful occupying force, it’s a wonder why he decided to focus on the Wardens when there’s another VERY OBVIOUS example of Ferelden being brutally invaded and occupied that happened nonly a single generation ago. It makes less sense considering even more recently than that, Wardens were what saved Ferelden from a Blight (and as you say, depending on circumstances, Fereldan’s king and queen were Wardens).

The root of Teagan’s animosity here, at least as I see it, is the fear that the Inquisition is in cahoots with Orlais, with the long term goal of invading and occupying Ferelden again. The Inquisition already has a foothold, and enough of an army to make a stand if they wanted to keep it for themselves, and Orlais has just ended a civil war and will be looking for a rallying point to unite their people again - what better way than a war with a foreign power that most Orlesian nobility consider nothing more than a backward province? A lot of the nobles remember what it was like having Ferelden under the heel of Orlais, and a lot of them liked it. Everything Teagan is doing is to try and prevent that from happening again, and from his perspective the Inquisition is a legitimate threat to his nation: they think nothing of deciding the throne of Orlais, or marching their private army wherever they think it’s needed, or interfering in politics across Thedas in ways that only add to their own wealth and power.

Specifically thinking about why Alistair and Leliana didn’t just sort this out in private is... complicated. From a game mechanics point of view, not everyone will have that worldstate, and they can’t just have an entirely different story for that one circumstance. In-game, however, I have some theories. For a start, the Inquisition and international relations is a political matter, not a personal one. The council was probably called to avoid accusations of back-handed deals on either side, because Orlais would take it as a slight to be left out of important negotiations, and Ferelden (as mentioned above) would be afraid that the Inquisition and Orlais were colluding in order to invade.

But also, specifically with Alistair as king and Leliana as Divine? Alistair can’t guarantee that Leliana would fight Ferelden’s corner. Her life is politics, and he can’t trust that. Whatever its dressing, the Chantry is an Orlesian institution, and the Game is a pressure breathing down her neck constantly. As Divine, she can’t show overt favouritism, but at the same time the Grand Cathedral is in Val Royeaux, a lot of the Chantry’s wealth comes from wealth comes from aristocratic (Orlesian) patrons. A lot of people think of Alistair as a fool, but he cares about his people, and he understands how the Game is played, and he (and Teagan, by extension) is the only one who will put Ferelden first, no matter what else happens.

What really doesn’t make sense is why it’s Teagan representing Ferelden and not someone like Leonas Bryland, who has better ties to Orlais, a less important role as advisor to the king, and is probably far better at the Game because he grew up with it instead of in the Free Marches. But BioWare just looooooves shoving nostalgia in our faces whenever it can, regardless of whether it makes sense or adds anything to the narrative. But that’s a rant for another time.

I went on a bit longer than I meant to - thank you for giving me something to chew over, and I hope I didn’t get too rambly there towards the end...

#blackcanarydinah #dragon age inquisition #da:i #inquisition #teagan guerrin #arl teagan #king alistair #alistair theirin #grey wardens #ferelden #orlais #leliana #divine victoria #bioware critical

[ollifree]

👀 1, 5, 8, 11, and 13 for the four wardens gang pls. especially caedan. 👀👀👀

1. What is one word to shut them up?

Terron: I’ve been staring at this ask for days and I still can’t think of one for him. This question has haunted all my waking hours. I’m looking at the road but all I’m thinking about is what is the one word to shut Terron up.

Lanni: Failure. She knows she’s not infallible, and takes minor failures in stride. Used right, though, and the word reminds her of what she couldn’t protect and what she’s lost. What she might lose if something like the Highever massacre happens again.

Caedan: Kirkwall. It doesn’t even have to be said to him: the word grabs his attention and sinks ice into his heart. He tells people he’s from the Circle and he’s been there such a long part of his life it’s true; he doesn’t know a culture outside of it to identify with. The Wardens are probably the closest and he was only with them a few years. If pressed, he’ll go so far as to say he was born in the Free Marches. He doesn’t remember Kirkwall. He doesn’t want to remember Kirkwall.

Nasi: Worthless.
 It’s a long, hard climb for her to believe she’s more than a Duster. She has skill and knowledge to put any caste dwarf to shame, and once she’s named Paragon very few would be able to go against the ingrained rigidity of the class structure to even insinuate otherwise. “Worthless” though hits, literally, too close to home.

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.

Terron: Surface: Getting lost. In the Brecilian forest, it meant a spirit or the forest itself was changing the terrain. He could pop out in a familiar area in a few moments, hours, or days. Or, he might not pop out at all. It lessened the longer he spent in human settlements, but when he first started entering them after joining the Wardens he had no idea how to navigate them. Repressed: This is listed down in triggers below, but mirrors. After what happened to himself and Tamlen? He doesn’t trust them for a long time. And full-body ones? He won’t want to be around those ever again. Dark: The corruption taking him. He left his entire life behind when presented with the possibility of a cure. Finding out what he might eventually become at the end of his Calling? It was the single worst event of his life.

Lanni: Surface: Not fire, as one might expect, but definitely dragons. She actually has a bit of a delayed reaction to fire now because “it’s not that hot”. Has to be reminded that even if it doesn’t melt her flesh it’ll still give her burns. Quote-unquote-repressed: Everyone can tell just by looking at her if something reminds her of the attack on Highever. Seizes up and is both distracted and non-direct in her speech. A lot of on-going “uh-huh”s and generally only speaks when someone prompts her. Dark: More-so for her solo canon where she’s actually seen one, but broodmothers. More specifically, turning into one.

Caedan: Caedan’s are all nicely layered together like a cake (or an onion). The first layer is the Chantry deciding, no, being conscripted actually doesn’t count, back to the Circle with you. The next layer down is the safety of himself and his closest friends in the Circle. Sure, he and Surana got on fine because they were mentored by two relatively respected senior mages, but that didn’t mean nothing could happen to them. It just meant more questions would be raised if something did. And Maker knows what would happen if they got their hands on Jowan. This leads directly into the deep dark fears: what happens when they’re not safe in the Circle. Tranquility is, of course, the worst thing that can happen to a mage. Before they hit the rite, though, there’s dungeons, whatever a Templar who’s taken a physical fancy to a mage can do, and torture. Remember that Caedan doesn’t want to remember Kirkwall? That’s why he doesn’t want to remember Kirkwall.

Nasi: (Literally) surface: The sky?????? The fucking sky????? Why the fuck is anything allowed to be that big and empty?????? And stuff falls from it?????? Repressed: She fears circumstances that could lead to her losing respect: be it a plan falling through or her strength failing her. Now that she’s had it, she doesn’t want to go back knowing what it felt like. Dark: Stone, don’t let her be like her mother. Stone, don’t let her be like her mother. Stone, don’t let her...

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

Terron: Mirrors. Smaller ones he can handle so long as he doesn’t see their reflective side. Larger ones, such as the ones on vanities or that hang in hallways, leave him uneasy. Eluvians or similar? No thank you. The end of Witch Hunt was...bad.

Lanni: All of Redcliffe was one giant trigger for her and she was one (1) mishap away from a full-blown PTSD attack while she was there. But, let’s not worry about the trauma she never addressed. She needs to know people are safe.

Caedan: He has an entire list of triggers thanks to the Chantry and the Circle. The biggest one is the “Magic exists to serve man” canticle of the Chant. The one most Chanters say outdoors loudly, for everyone to hear? That one. He’ll shut down entirely upon hearing it.

Nasi: Keep your drinks away from her; she doesn’t need the reminder of her home life. Physical touch isn’t a full-on trigger, but she is somewhat touch repulsed. If she doesn’t someone touch her without express permission, she pretty much trusts them with her life. Do not pick her up.

11. Do they have any vices?

Terron: Is Terron just emotionally mature? Is that what’s happening? Not a vice so much as a bad (from a non-Dalish viewpoint) habit of up and disappearing for a few days. Sometimes it’s for hunting, sometimes it’s because he needs to be out of a stone keep in a forest right-fucking-now.

Lanni: Workaholic. Of the “compelled to take on every task on her own” type. Look, Ferelden’s got to get back on its feet and she’s in the position to do the most to make sure that happens. Alienage needs rebuilt after the darkspawn attack? Show her where to do the heavy lifting. Going to scout southern Ferelden will take a few weeks? Well, they did promise the Dalish land there and she wants to make sure they won’t be cheated out of anything or put on a plot of uninhabitable land, there’s a few Chasind settlements there we should make sure conflicts won’t happen because we didn’t know that’s where their homes were. Oh yeah we promised soldiers for Orzammar someone should look for volunteers and make sure we’re sending more than two people. And while we’re doing that we’re going to be in talks with the Chantry about loosening the restrictions of mages. Yeah sure there’s time in the day for making sure the nobles aren’t about to oust us. Going into labor? There’s time for a few more documents. Gave birth two hours ago? Strap that baby to her chest we got more shit to review. Happened a second time? Of course it did. There’s the possibility of a cure out there? She’s checking into it. What the fuck is delegating?

Caedan: Bottoms up. His drink of choice is wine, he’s not one for the taste of beer or ale. His heaviest drinking is done during times of emotional crisis. He’s steered very close to alcoholism at a few points in his life, but his social circles have kept him from it. He’s grateful for it, and they know this, but he’s pissy about it since he doesn’t like having his actions reproached.

Nasi:
 Does bloodshed count? She doesn’t process her emotions, and prefers to deal with any feelings by finding the nearest darkspawn and hacking them into so many pieces even she doesn’t remember what kind they were before. This year’s fall fashion line in Orzammar is black blood stains.

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

Terron: Envy. For the kind of safety, standing, and knowledge that humans possess. Even non-Andrastians (ie. Avvar and Chasind) know their history. Most humans can travel without fear of harassment, or can expect justice should something befall one of them.
 His people don’t even know their own language.

Lanni: Greed. She could have lived in comfort and contentment as a Warden, though she’d have always joined in taking Highever back for her brother. Instead, she’s taking the queenship. Shouldn’t have called her bluff when she was trying to get you out of imprisonment, Anora.


Caedan: Pride. As if he wasn’t already enough of a smarmy bastard to begin with, he went and made an agreement with Mouse, a pride demon, when Avernus taught him blood magic. He knew he was one of the best mages in the tower, and being out in Thedas at large hasn’t changed that impression much. The one mage he’ll say is better than him? He built a life with her. And don’t even get him started on what a prodigy their son is.


Nasi: Wrath. A good chunk of the carta, and pretty much all of Dust Town, knew not to cross her path if she looked any more pissed than usual. She turns it into a real strength when Oghren teaches her berserker techniques. Bhelen knows he’s only got his throne so long as Rica’s happy and cared for.

#ask #greyvvardenfell #rey #dragon age #warden #oc things #terron mahariel #lani cousland #caedan amell #nasi brosca #long post / #this took up so much brain juice but god now i wanna do even more for 'em #i love my wardens so gd much

[redroci]

wip (fri)day

tagged by @scarlettkat86

can y’all believe the only thing i am actively working on is for a game that released 11 years ago? actually being very late to the party is sort of my brand. anyway. from near the end of against a sea of troubles:

“There’s something I wanted to ask you, before…If I don’t get the chance later.”

“Before one or all of us dies, you mean?”

She ignored his tone. “What happened at Ostagar?”

She had a knack for asking the last question he could possibly be prepared for at any given moment. “You were there.”

“I only have one side of the story. I know what happened in the tower. I know that the King and the Wardens all died. What I don’t know is how exactly it all happened."

"What do you want to know," he ground out. He didn't want to have this conversation, but she wasn't going to leave him be. 

"Just what I said. I know what happened in the tower; tell me what happened on the battlefield." 

"You want to know if I abandoned my best friend's son out of spite? If I left my daughter a widow because I was afraid of Orlais? If I smiled as I turned my back-" she laid a hand on his arm and he stopped abruptly. 

"People are dead because of your decision in the valley. But people are also alive because of it. I just want to know what really happened."

He didn't close his eyes quickly enough to stop her seeing the pain in them. 

"Why are you doing this? I tried to have you killed, the least you could do is act like you're angry with me." 

"I quite like Zevran." She was silent for a long moment, and when he opened his eyes she wasn't looking at him. "My parents worried you were too isolationist. Father tried not to talk about it, but it frustrated him how much more difficult you tended to make his job. I never particularly liked Anora, she was… unkind. But you. You were a hero. I find it difficult to reconcile the man in all the books and tales with the kind of person who would leave Cailan to die out of spite or a desire for power."

His jaw clenched and she thought for a moment he was going to turn and leave the room, but he didn't.

"There was no hope of winning that battle. I knew it from the moment we looked out at the field. Duncan knew it too, but Cailan… Maric's shadow always loomed large over the boy. His head was filled with foolish stories about the glories of battle… he couldn't understand the reality of it. I tried to talk him into pulling back and he refused. Repeatedly. When the beacon was lit it was clear the battle was already lost. We'd have lost the entire army, to a man. All that would stand between Ferelden and Orlais would be Eamon's men at Redcliffe."

"And you believe Eamon can't be trusted." 

"You don't trust him either."

tagging @foofygoldfish, @chyrstis, @shellibisshe, @geronimo-11, @amistrio@twinlaurels,@ whoever else.

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 88

Uncle Eraqus

Summary: In which Anora and Brain have an off campus Thanksgiving feast with the latter’s uncle. Word Count: 1,686 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

It was right in the middle of history class when Anora got a text from Brain.

'Are u doing anything tonight? Wanna meet me by the gates for a Thanksgiving feast off campus? I know a real quiet place by the lighthouse. Wear your jogging pants- I'm not going to let you leave until you gain three pounds.'

Anora only wished that she could have seen her face after reading it. The young woman looked up at her teacher before carefully typing her response. Thank goodness that the keyboard on her slider phone was a quiet one. Too bad that she was generally a pretty slow typist.

'what if i'm not hungry?'

After sending the text off, Anora set her phone in her lap and tried to write some notes down. Brain must have been in the middle of class too- his text came back to her roughly ten minutes after.

'Ur nothing but skin and bones, madam. If I don't stuff you up, my uncle will.'

Anora almost had to force herself from questioning why Brain had an uncle. But, still. If this was going to be a Thanksgiving feast, would more of Brian's family be coming along? A small spike of fear hit Anora's head when she asked him just as much.

'Don't worry pretty girl. It'll just be you, me, and uncle E. Like I said, the buffet is a quiet place even on its worse days. It's got separate rooms like a karaoke bar. It's pretty cool.'

'i don't do karaoke'

'It's not an -actual- karaoke bar. Just trust me. Or don't. You don't have to come if you don't want to. I'm kinda just throwing it at you anyway.'

Anora lightly nibbled at her lip as she thought it over. It wouldn't hurt her to get off campus for a bit. She wasn't really expected to join in on anyone else's Thanksgiving dinner. Brain had also appealed to her social avoidance side too- there would be a lot more people in the cafeteria tonight. Some family members joining their kids on a free meal provided by the school. She knew for a fact that Mog's family would be coming- and that included both parents, a brother, a handful of cousins, and a persnickety aunt or two for good measure.

Come to think of it, she probably wouldn't have had dinner at the cafeteria tonight anyway. Still making sure that the history teacher wasn't going to notice her texting, Anora carefully typed her reply back to Brain.

'do i have to wear a dress?'

The bell that signaled for class end went off before Anora got a reply. She didn't even look at her phone until she got to the next class.

'Of course not. Wear what you've got. E's not picky and I literally just mentioned jogging pants. I'll wait until 6:30 for you at the gates.'

After reading through the message, Anora gave a little nod to herself and tried to focus on the rest of class. If there was one difference between Ephemer and Brain, it was that Anora didn't particularly feel like she needed to impress the latter. Hypocritical as it sounded- considering she was the one that told Ephemer he didn't need to impress her to keep her love for him. Most of her dresses were better suited for the summer anyway.

But she should still dress, nicer, though. Meeting with your significant other's (rebound or not) family was a big deal. She didn't want to give Brain's uncle the wrong first impression. Not that she'd be able to talk enough to form a good impression to begin with…

After classes were over, Anora went up to her dorm and started to go through her winter coats. The one she usually wore, a very warm double down jacket, was a bit ratted from years of use. She had to dig real deep in her stored away clothes for the fancy things. The young woman let out a happy noise of discovery when she found her maroon colored peacoat. It would match well with what she was already wearing; a long sleeved, light brown colored tunic shirt and dark washed jeans. It was respectable, but not too dressy.

She didn't waste any time in meeting Brain at the front gates. He was casually leaning on the brick archway before noticing her. When he did, he stood up and adjusted his hat a bit.

“So all your girl clothes are hiding in winter wear.” Brain mused as he looked her over. “Sounds like the opposite of every other girl I know, but it sounds about right for you.”

Anora suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “Is it bad?”

Brain shook his head. He took a step or two closer to so he could take her hand and gently kiss her knuckles. “Not at all.” he gently purred. “You're just more unique.”

The blush on Anora's face came quickly and without restraint. Brain chuckled a bit at her before calling up a taxi. As the taxi headed on down to the lighthouse located outside of town, Brain tried to make a bit of light conversation with Anora.

“I'm not trying to scare you, but you should know what kind of guy my uncle is.”

Anora turned to him and raised an interested, but wary, eyebrow at him. Brain laughed at it for a moment before going on to explain himself.

“He's the principal at one of the main Departure County public schools. The same one that Ven came from.”

“Oh.” came the rather small answer. A snort escaped Brain's lips in return.

“Don't worry,” he assured her, gently taking her hand to rub her thumb over it, “I'm just teasing. He'll love you.”

Still giving Brain a wary glance, Anora carefully nodded her head and said nothing further. The drive to the lighthouse was spent in a still silence. When they were close enough, Anora could see a man that, at a distance, looked a lot like Brain. As Brain helped Anora out of the taxi, she continued to study the man. She must have stared for two long because he looked right at them. But he didn't call them out. Instead, Brain politely guided Anora by the elbow to the man and even tipped his fedora at him.

“Long time no see Uncle Eraqus!” he happily greeted the old man.

The man gave a nod of his own. “It's been a long time since we've met...”

“Brain.” Brain finished for his uncle.

“Brain...” Eraqus repeated with unease. “So it's official now?”

“Yep.” the young man boasted, grinning at his uncle with a cheeky certainty. “Well, no. A lot of the school paperwork still say I'm 'Blaine', but as far as anyone else knows, I'm the one and only Brain Renzhen.”

“Certainly is a unique name.” his uncle warily agreed. With this out of the way, Eraqus turned his attention to Anora.

“I don't believe we've met before.” Eraqus politely said to Anora. “My name is Eraqus, young lady. I am the brother of Brain's mother.”

Anora shrunk a bit, but offered him a smile and nod of acknowledgment.

“She's not much of a talker.” Brain laughed. “It takes a bit of getting used to for this little bird to sing.”

“Well, if that's the case,” Eraqus offered, “The let's go secure a private room for just us three. I'm sure it would be a lot better to the more socially anxious.”

Anora gave him a small smile in thanks, and with that the three of them entered the buffet. It was a rather cozy place, with amber lighting and the smell of freshly baked bread faintly hinted in the air. The individual rooms were separated with a sliding divider. Anora still sat a bit closer to Brain as the relatives started to talk to each other. The two seemed to have a rather amicable relationship. But the hardest part Anora had to wrap her head around was that Brain hardly referred to his uncle as uncle. Instead he called Eraqus by his first name only. It took time for her to realize that he was doing the same for his aunts as well. From what she could gather, he had two; one older than Eraqus, and one younger than both Eraqus and Brain's mother.

“Do you have any plans for winter break?” Eraqus asked Brain at some point.

“Not really.” the young man mused as he reached for his water glass. “I know Mom wants me to come home. But that means Beli and Chika are going to be there too with their small armies.” Brain took a sip of water before adding, “Thanks for not adding to the gaggle of cousins, by the way.”

Eraqus gave a rather bemused chuckle. “Not yet, anyway.” he teased. “There's one young man that I've been keeping my eye on. He's not much older than you two, but he could benefit from a more kinder household.”

“Are you going to take him to Christmas or New Year's dinner with you?”

“I might.” Eraqus agreed with a sigh. He then turned to Anora and said, “What about you, Anora? Do you have any plans for the break?”

Anora jumped a little, surprised to be a part of the conversation, before carefully shaking her head.

“Daybreak is one of the better campuses to be on during breaks.” Eraqus told her with a nod. “It's a shame that it can't provide housing for its recently graduated students. Assuming that a Tenth Year didn't buy an apartment in town already. Has the food quality improved any since we last had an all state school conference? Urd still swears she got food poisoning from the meatloaf they served.”

“Doesn't Miss Urd get sick off of anything that wasn't served on a gold plate?” Brain lightly snickered. Eraqus gave a small snort of amusement.

As Brain and Eraqus then went into a conversation that slightly mocked whoever this Urd lady was, Anora found herself lost in her own thoughts. What was she going to do for winter break?

#daybreak academy #chapter 88 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Anora #Brain #Eraqus #Season 3

[jewish-gay-elves]

Petty Bickering

“so alistair is in anonymity for a while because the wardens can’t take him to denerim without being caught and stephan can’t take him to denerim by himself they'll both get the crap beat out of them or something (that’s fergus' like only argument against stephan and alistair going because he’s a protective older brother” - my notes on this au

Words: 774, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 5 of the a tale of too many wardens because i want everyone to be happy and heres how

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: None Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Male Cousland (Dragon Age), Fergus Cousland, Oren Cousland, Tamlen (Dragon Age), Stephan Cousland Relationships: None Additional Tags: Brotherly Squabbles, alistair feels caught in the middle

 Alistair wished that they didn’t have to do this in front of him. Seeing as they only had one small camp however, meant that of course he had to have front row seats to the glaring match currently happening between the last of the Couslands.

    Fergus, in typical older brother fashion, did not want to let Stephan and Alistair go to Denerim to petition for aid by themselves. Especially after the rumors they’d been hearing in Lothering about Loghain spreading the news that the Grey Wardens were at fault for Maric and Cailan’s deaths at Ostagar, as well as Alistair’s own supposed death. Stephan on the other hand, knew that the Couslands had allies and power, and that Alistair was in fact, not dead. To him that meant that it should be easy to dispel these rumors and restore Alistair to the crown. Maric was king, not Cailan, Anora had no claim to the crown now that her husband was dead, and no right to pretend like she did.

    The two of them had come to a standstill, clearly unable to come up with any new points to argue with. This left Oren, the youngest Cousland, glaring at his father and uncle, mad at them both for arguing with each other at all. Alistair felt very similar to little Oren, he didn’t really want to leave the Grey Wardens on their own, but he also didn’t like Anora and Loghain’s blatant power grab, so he was torn on what action they should take. Thankfully, neither brother was actually looking to him to make a decision, both of them too busy dealing with the other.

    Just when it felt like no resolution would actually be made, Tamlen, one of the other new wardens, came up to the two brothers, a deep frown pulling at his face tattoos.

    “The Keeper told us to never expect much from shemlen, but I didn’t know I would be this disappointed by the petty bickering. Haven’t we already determined our mission includes both gathering allies and protecting the prince? We may not have an army but there are enough of us to send a covert group to Denerim and to search out this Genitivi as well as a group to go to Redcliffe and begin collecting allies. If you two are done being stubborn that is,” he finished, crossing his arms from where he stood. The Couslands themselves looked stunned, Fergus being the first to shake off his shock.

    “You’re right, and I apologize for our childish behavior. Tamlen, would you be comfortable leading this secondary group to Denerim and look for signs of Genitivi?” Fergus said, turning it back on the elf. “I only ask since you were the only one who thought to break up our little argument, and clearly I want to keep my brother and the prince away from Denerim. Redcliffe is a good enough compromise, don’t you think, Stephan?” Fergus finished, turning to his brother. Stephan only nodded, leaving Alistair to finally pipe in with his thoughts.

    “While Uncle Eamon is fond of the Couslands, he might not trust you about my survival if I am not there with you as well. It only makes sense for the three of us to approach him. Besides, he would know better how to confront Anora and Loghain from the political angle. Tamlen and the others will probably have an easier time infiltrating Denerim without us,” Alistair said, trying to appeal to both brothers. Stephan just looked at Alistair the whole time he spoke, his gaze never leaving the prince’s face. Fergus just nodded, the course ahead now clear.

    “Tamlen, I’ll let you ask who you’d like to bring with you to Denerim, I wouldn’t advise taking a group any larger than four or five however. But I will be taking Stephan, Alistair, and Oren with me to Redcliffe. As well as anyone else who is not going to Denerim,” Fergus finishes, leaving Tamlen the choice of his companions. Tamlen is thoughtful for a moment, then announces that he’ll be taking Han’rel, Leliana, and Ghrena, for their combined knowledge of stealth and of large cities. Fergus agrees, and then the two of them walked away, talking about supplies and information.

    Stephan just sighs, and then set himself down near Oren and Alistair. The prince and the younger noble share a look and then Oren just pats his uncle on the shoulder in sympathy.

    “Be glad that you are an only child, nephew,” Stephan says, looking sullenly at Oren. Alistair just stifles his amusement with a quick cough, knowing that the last of the Couslands will be just fine.

#dragon age #writing #dragon age origins #stephan cousland #stephan #alistair theirin #fergus cousland #tamlen (dragon age) #oren cousland #male cousland

[allisondraste]

Temperance (27/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary: Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:   Everything has changed since Nathaniel and Lucia arrived, and Liss struggles to find her place.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

There was nothing Liss wanted less than to be sitting in Queen Anora’s council chamber, listening to Arl Eamon complain about and question any and every decision Anora made.  Was it not past time that he headed back to Redcliffe where he could firmly plant his head up his own arse without bothering anyone else. He certainly had a lot to prove for someone already in such a position of power.  Papa had always told her that truly powerful people had little to prove. It was why King Maric had been so beloved, an example her father had apparently strived to follow. She wished he’d been there now, to tell the puffy Arl to watch how he speaks to the Queen of Ferelden. It was all she could do to keep herself from saying as much.

The lack of sleep the night before had not helped her irritation.  Nightmares had tormented her all night and sleep eluded her. Of course, now that it was the middle of the morning, and she was surrounded by a dozen important people, she could hardly keep her eyes open.  There was a gentle jab to her side, jolting her to alertness and she snapped her head in the direction of the touch.

Alistair quirked an eyebrow and flashed a mischievous smile at her before mouthing “You’re welcome,” and turning his attention back to Anora.

“Lady Cousland, what do you think of Anora’s unflinching support for the Grey Wardens, even in light of their callous abandonment of the people of Amaranthine?” A smug smile formed on his lips, barely visible beneath his beard.

Liss snorted in disbelief. “I trust Queen Anora’s decision, my lord, and I find it interesting that you were such a staunch ally of the Warden-Commander just months ago.”

“The Arling of Amaranthine is under the protection of an Arlessa, a mage, who cares little for its people.”

“I am certain she cares much more for the people of Amaranthine than it’s previous leadership,” Liss replied politely, letting all of the bitterness seep into her smile, “Some of us do not have the luxury of forgetting about Rendon Howe so soon.”

Arl Eamon chuckled humorlessly. “And now the Warden-Commander conspires with his son.  Are you so certain you wish to defend her now?”

Liss’ fists tightened in her lap. It wasn’t like that. Nate was not like his father. He hadn’t even chosen the Wardens voluntarily.  Eamon’s accusation was completely unfair and she opened her mouth to defend him, but Alistair spoke first.

“I’m sorry, but I missed the part where any of this is relevant,” he snapped, throwing a stack of papers on the table,  and Liss released the breath she’d been holding, “All of the reports from different sources , including the Captain of the Guard in Amaranthine, several minor Banns, all of the Grey Wardens present, oh, and some civilians who fled Amaranthine prior to the siege say the same thing: The city was beyond saving. I’m curious to hear your argument as to why needless loss of the few Wardens we have left would have been a better solution.”

The room fell silent as Eamon appeared to search for anything to say in response, but settled upon an exasperated sigh.

“I have spoken with the Warden-Commander about the situation in Amaranthine, and I am confident that her decision was sound,” Anora announced, voice like a bell that rang through the muffled conversation of the council members, “I believe that it is in the best interest of both Amaranthine and Ferelden for the arling to remain under the protection of the Grey Wardens.”

Anora turned to meet Alistair’s gaze, nodding faintly. “With one condition,” she continued, “The Wardens are charged with rebuilding the City of Amaranthine, returning survivors to their homes, and making what reparations are possible.”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” Alistair answered with a confident nod.

Anora turned to Arl Eamon, smiling gently as she spoke. “I understand and appreciate your concerns, Eamon, but my support for the Wardens still stands.”

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

“If there are no further matters to discuss, then we are adjourned.”  The Queen paused for a few moments, and when nothing else was mentioned, she left the hall, followed soon after by the other council members.  Liss remained in her chair, staring blankly at the surface of the table before her, the shuffling and footsteps receding into the distance and the echoes of the debate still ringing in her head. Her heart still pounded at the memory, and she flopped her head down on the table.  

The sound of movement beside her and the warmth of a body next to her on the bench startled her, and she shot her head up to see Alistair smiling at her. The smile did nothing to mask the exhaustion in his eyes, nor his concern.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, looking everywhere in the room except her face.

“Hey,” she answered, unable to prevent an amused smile from crawling across her face, “Looks like you want to have another awkward conversation.  I love those.”

“Only the best conversations feel like pulling teeth, don’t you know?” He laughed quietly and sighed.  “I just wanted to check on you… actually.”

“Why? Do I look that rough?”  She was only half-joking.

“You look like you didn’t get any more sleep than I did.”

“I probably didn’t,” she admitted, but noticed the guilt that washed over Alistair’s face, and continued.  “Don’t worry, Ali. It wasn’t on your account or anything. Just normal old nightmares.”

“Right.  Good.” Alistair nodded, but his brows were still pressed together.  “Er, not good that you have nightmares, just good that it wasn’t because of… what happened between us, and the whole… thing last night.”

“We talked about what happened, remember? It’s behind us.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, “Unfortunately, it’s not behind Lucia.”

“Oh, right.”  She tilted her head and frowned.  “I’m sure she despises me.”

To her surprise, a small grin quirked up at the corner of his mouth and he shook his head.  “Luce isn’t like that.”

Liss perked up.  “Yeah?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s angry and hurt, but she was angry and hurt when she left.” Alistair shook his leg to the point that it rattled the table, “I think she blames herself more than anything.”

“So you don’t think she’ll be setting me on fire any time soon?”

“No,” Alistair laughed, “Me, maybe, but not you.”

“Do you think you two will…” she trailed off, realizing that the question was intrusive.

“Work it out,” Alistair asked, as if reading her mind. When she nodded he took a deep breath and continued. “If you had asked me earlier, I would have said I didn’t know, but she’s here now, and… I believe in her.  We want the same thing. I guess we’ll just have to figure out how to get there together”

“That’s wonderful,” Liss remarked, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments before Alistair spoke again.  “I am sorry about what Eamon said.”

“Don’t be. He’s full of hot air, mostly.  He is making wild accusations to find any sort of solid ground to stand on.  I trust the Grey Wardens.”

“Even with a Howe among our ranks?” Alistair’s question was sincere as could be, and Liss felt horrible for the inappropriate laughter that bubbled up from her throat as a response.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Especially with a Howe among your ranks,” Liss answered, and Alistair furrowed his brows, “That Warden that arrived with Lucia last night…” “That’s him,” Alistair asked, recoiling a bit and blinking at her, “The one you embraced .”

“Yes.” Liss’ face grew hot as she watched him tie divergent shreds of information together, realizing that which she already knew.

“The son of a traitor?” Alistair gasped in feigned surprise, and then clicked his tongue, “The scandal, Lady Elissa.  Can’t you see me? I’m scandalized.”

“Stop it,” Liss laughed through her embarrassment, jabbing Alistair with an elbow. “It’s not like that.”

“Huh, that’s funny because I seem to recall a conversation on the road the other day.”  He tapped his chin with his finger. “Something about it being hard to move on from someone special?  Not really being you without that person? Is that ringing any bells?”

Cut it out, Alistair.”

“You love him.”

Liss did not respond, just narrowed her eyes and glared at him.  Her heart pounded against her chest as if it intended to burst out and run away.  She shouldn’t have been so affected by Alistair’s teasing. It was nothing she did not already know, nothing Fergus hadn’t already teased her about.  Still, to hear it all out loud, to know that Nate was in the same city, made it more potent.

“Fine, fine,” Alistair remarked, throwing his hands up in surrender, “I’ll leave you be.”

“Thank you,” she answered curtly. “I just hope you’re going to do something about it.”  His tone was gentle, compassionate, and he was no longer teasing her.  “I’m probably the worst person to give advice on things like this, but it just seems like it’s too important to ignore.”  

“Thank yo—” she began, but paused as she glimpsed a figure at the far end of the room near the door.  Her arms were crossed, observing, and as she noticed Liss’ attention on her, a small, confusing smile twitched at her lips.

“What’s wrong,” Alistair said, and then turned to look in the direction Liss was looking.  “Oh. Hi love.” He hopped up quickly, nearly stumbling over the chair and rushed to the woman eagerly.  There was no dread or apprehension on his face that Liss could see, and Lucia’s whole face brightened at his attention, the smile she’d offered Liss widening on her face, eyes sparkling.  She was beautiful enough on her own, but the way she looked at Alistair made her even more so. Alistair turned and waved to Liss, and he was beaming. She returned the wave and he disappeared down the hallway with Lucia. Good for him.  She was so relieved she hadn’t cost him the love of his life with her erratic behavior.

Warm sunlight cut through the chill of early afternoon, the first signs that spring would soon arrive, as Liss made her way through the busy Market District.  She hadn’t spoken with Bria since she left for Highever, and she thought her friend would enjoy hearing everything that had transpired since. Not to mention, Liss could stand to vent to an unbiased, uninvolved party, and Bri was the perfect person.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door entered the smithy, and closed the door behind her.  As she turned to look in the direction of the counter, she froze, an uncertain statue at the sight of Nate standing there, laughing as he spoke.  He pulled a small envelope from his coat and slid it across the table to Bri, who picked it up, read the writing on the front, and nodded solemnly before sticking it into one of the pockets on her apron.  It was then that she looked up and her eyes locked with Liss, a perfectly white grin taking over her whole face.  

Appearing to be confused by her smile, Nate frowned and then brought his eyes up so that he saw Liss as well.  He flinched and straightened his posture, clearing his throat and raking a hand through his hair. Good. It seemed that it wasn’t just she who was having a difficult time remembering that they were in the same place now.  It had been many years since butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach, but Maker if they weren’t there now. Thankfully the forge was hot, and gave her an excuse to be sweating.  

“Good afternoon, Lady Elissa,” Bri piped up cheerfully, cutting through the tension that hung heavy in the room, “It has been too many days since that pretty face of yours graced my shop.”

“Afternoon Bri,” Liss replied, prying her eyes away from Nate, who was incredibly distracting with that smirk of his.  What reason did he have to be smirking anyway?

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bri leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter.

“Nothing, really.  Just came by to catch up.” Liss paused and glanced at Nate.  “But if you are busy…”

“I am on my way out,” Nate said, voice soft and low as he met her gaze, “I do not wish to deter your conversation, my lady.”

Liss fought the urge to groan and sigh audibly.  How completely sincere and formal of him. “Thank you, Warden,” she replied pointedly and Nate chuckled as he walked past her and out of the shop.

When Liss turned to face Bria once again, the woman eyed her knowingly, smiling like a mabari that had just chewed up someone’s boots and wasn’t even sorry.  Liss offered her a scowl. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? “

“Either you have slept with that man, or you need to,” Bria remarked, completely unabashed.

“W-what,” Liss spluttered, completely taken aback by the observation, “Why would you think that?”

“I could have cut the tension with a dull blade,” Bria teased, picking up a dagger from  the counter and pretending to slice the air with it.

“Just the last time I was here, you were prodding me to pursue Alistair.” Liss squinted her eyes. “Have you no shame?”

“Not a drop,” Bria teased and burst out into laughter.

“Great.  Good to know,” Liss spat dryly. “I will have you know that I was right about Alistair.”

“In what way?”  Bria took the dagger she’d been holding, and approached the forge.

“We had a… moment on our trip to Highever.  We shouldn’t have. The woman he loves has returned, and now there is a big mess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Liss crossed her arms and frowned. She continued on, attempting to imitate Bria, “‘In Antiva when we love someone, we tell them so.’  Remind me not to take your advice ever again.”  

“My apologies, my dear,” Bria said with a laugh.

“We’re not friends anymore.”

“Yes we are.”

“Of course we are,” Liss sighed and laughed. “I am just frustrated.”

Bria opened her mouth to speak, but Liss interrupted, knowing exactly what she intended to say. “Not that kind of frustrated, Bri,” she said,” I have no intention of sleeping with anyone any time soon.”

“Such a shame.”

“I know. I am a disappointment.”  Liss laughed, and moved away from the counter.  “Well, I should probably stop distracting you from your work.” “You are always a welcome distraction, my friend.” Bria smiled again and Liss waved, and headed out of the smithy.

The air outside seemed much colder after standing in the warmth of Bria’s shop.  Wind smacked against her face, prickling her lungs as she inhaled. At least she wasn’t sweating anymore. She jumped as she turned to her left and found Nate leaning against smithy’s exterior, arms crossed.  He stared out into the center of the market, somber expression on his face as he watched a man lift a small boy up onto his shoulders. A beautiful young woman looped her arm through the man’s and stared up lovingly at the boy.

“They remind me of my parents,” Liss stated as she moved to stand beside him,. “Fergus and Oriana, too.”

Nate glanced at her and then closed his eyes.  “I thought the same, actually. I was just remembering the night when Father first brought me to Highever.”

“I was hiding under your bed,” she added, warmth bubbling in her chest as she recalled the memory.

“I worried at first that you were some sort of hideous beast,” he explained, laughter punctuating his words, “It turned out that you were just a girl, with these giant brown eyes, and the loveliest smile I’d ever seen. After that, I thought it was impossible for you to be frightening.”

Liss’ heart fluttered at each word.  “Boy did I have you fooled.”

“That… is an understatement,” he laughed again, “Anyway, I remember that your father came looking for you.  You swore me to silence, and then crawled back under the bed. When your father showed up, I was so scared of getting you into trouble.  All I could think about was how my father handled disobedience.”

“Nate…”

“Your father was nothing like mine.  He made a game out of it, and scooped you out from under the bed to carry you to your room.”  He shifted his weight and looked back out at the family they’d been watching. “Before that moment, I spent my days thinking that I was flawed, that I was just a horrible son.  Your family made me realize that maybe I was not the problem.”

“They loved you,” Liss said softly, tears welling in her eyes, “My parents thought the world of you.  I think they’d want you to know that.”

She looked up at Nate, and swore she saw a tear roll down his cheek.  He looked down at the space between them, at their fingertips that almost touched, and took her hand in his.  He brought his eyes back up to hers, as if to ask if the gesture was welcome. She gave him a reassuring smile, and laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly.

“I loved them too,” Nate admitted, voice raw with emotion, “When I say that I am sorry for what Father did, it is for more reasons than one.”

“I know, and I am sorry that I was so unreceptive to it yesterday.  Of course you are hurt by all of this too.”  

“It’s alright.  Really.”

They stood, hand in hand, and watched the market, until Liss could take the silence no longer.  “I didn’t know you knew Bria.”

“I didn’t until today,” he replied with a shrug, “We have a mutual friend. She’s going to deliver a letter for me.”

“Huh,” Liss huffed before she could stop herself, releasing his hand.

He blinked a few times and tilted his head.  “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied, biting into her words, “It’s just… you do know how to write.”

Nate’s breath hitched audibly in his throat and he frowned, eyebrows furrowing deeply on his forehead. “About that… listen, I—“

Immediately guilty she interrupted him with a laugh and, “It was a joke, Nate. You don’t have to—“

Before she could finish he had moved to stand directly in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Damn it.  He knew better. Of course he did.

“You and I both know that wasn’t a joke,” he asserted, voice still soft despite its edge.  He was so forward and certain. A strand of black hair fell down into his face as he spoke  

Instinctively, she reached up and tucked the hair back behind his ear, cursing herself although she made no effort to keep her fingertips from lingering against his cheek. “And you and I both know that this is not a conversation we should have in the middle of a crowded market.”

“Right. I…” Nate trailed off, gaze shifting between her eyes and her lips and she should not have wanted him to kiss her so badly, considering the context, but she did.  There was little else she wanted more. He sighed and pulled away from her, too soon, releasing her shoulders and scratching the back of his head. “You are right, of course.”

“I want to hear what you have to say, though.”  She placed a hand on his arm to get his attention, and then tilted her head in the direction of the castle. When Nate smiled and nodded, she looped her arm through his.  “Lead the way.”

The silence between them as they walked to the castle was unbearable, and Liss found herself scrambling for anything to talk about.

“When will you be leaving Denerim,” Liss settled on asking.

“Soon,” Nate sighed, eyes remaining locked in front of him, “ A day or so most likely, though it really depends on what Lucia decides.  There are so few Wardens left, we’re all needed to help in restoring the region. I’ve made personal promises to Amaranthine City, to see it repaired. “

“You will be delighted to know that is exactly what Queen Anora charged the Wardens to do in our meeting this morning.” Liss laughed.  “Arl Eamon wishes the Warden-Commander to be stripped of her title as Arlessa.” “Ridiculous.  Lucia did everything she could,” Nate protested, “Amaranthine was lost.”

“That is what Alistair explained,” Liss reassured him, “Your name was mentioned.  The Wardens are now conspiring with the son of the traitorous Rendon Howe.”

Nate groaned and rolled his eyes.  “The Wardens gave me a chance to do better than my father.  They are my family now, and my loyalty lies with them.”

“I am glad you found somewhere to belong again.” Though Liss would not tell him as much, she was envious.

“So am I,” Nate said with a decisive nod of the head.

Liss chest tightened and her pulse jumped as they reached the castle’s courtyard, anticipation for a discussion with Nathaniel that was nine years overdue building inside her.  Would he apologize for not writing? Give her some completely understandable reason why he ignored her letters? Perhaps he would finally tell her he loved her. Maybe they’d kiss.  Maybe they’d do more than kiss. She’d certainly be open to the idea. After all, Bria hadn’t been wrong. Liss was just too proud to admit that it was something she wanted.

She shook her head, hoping to regain her hold over her own thoughts, which had completely run away from her.  She only hoped that she was not blushing. Nate opened one of the doors for her, smiling as she entered into the warmth of the castle walls.

“Warden Nathaniel,” a young woman’s voice called from across the hall as Nate entered behind her, allowing the door to swing closed.

“Yes?”

“Her Majesty wishes to speak with you, ser.” Damn it.   To his credit, Nate looked just as frustrated as Liss felt.  

“Did Queen Anora say what she wished to speak with me about?”

“Amaranthine, ser.” The woman looked between Nate and Liss and added. “She is in her study as soon as you are ready.”

“Thank you,” he said politely, and the servant walked away.

Nate moved to stand squarely in front of Liss reaching out to take both of her hands in his.  His eyes burned with everything he wanted to say. Everything she wanted to hear.  

“Later,” he stated, “I promise.”  GIving her hands a final squeeze, he released them and headed toward the stairs that led to Anora’s study.  Liss had never been more annoyed by the queen, a thought she’d be happy to keep to herself.

Determined not to waste her time counting the minutes that passed by until Nate was free to talk, Liss headed to her quarters.  As the excitement of the morning and afternoon wore off, her tired, sleep-deprived body ached for rest, and she could think of no better way to bide her time than to give her body what it needed.  

She flopped down face first onto the large bed she’d called her own for the past few months, not even bothering to remove her shoes, or climb under the coverlet.  Of all the times she would have expected thoughts to overwhelm her, to prod her awake, it would have been at this moment, and yet they didn’t. Sleep embraced her warmly, and she was grateful.

She awoke later to a knock at the door, completely disoriented, and unsure how long she’d even been sleeping.  Still, she knew the knock had to be Nate, returning to continue their conversation from the market. She stood, smoothed her hair to make sure she did not look entirely disheveled, and rushed to open the door.

She was greeted by dark hair and a set of pale blue eyes— the wrong dark hair and blue eyes— and it took her what felt like an eternity to address the woman that stood before her.

“Warden...Commander?”  She rubbed her eyes and blinked to make certain she had seen correctly.  No. It was definitely still Lucia.  

“Sorry if I disturbed you,” Lucia said, her voice quite low, with a subtle rasp at the edges of her words.  It was not what she’d expected the Hero of Ferelden to sound like. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

“You aren’t disturbing me,” Liss replied, opening the door wider so that Lucia could step inside, “And yes.  Of course.”

She motioned for the other woman to sit down in one of the reading chairs that sat in the corner of the room.  She did so and Liss followed suit, sitting down hesitantly in the chair next to her. It was oppressively quiet for much longer than Liss would have preferred as Lucia wrang her hands and stared off at nothing.

“I wanted to apologize for everything,” the woman finally spoke, her piercing eyes shooting directly through Liss, who was too intimidated to even attempt to tell her that she hated being called by her full name. “I can’t imagine you intended to get caught in the middle of all of this.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” Liss argued, laughing humorlessly as she did so, “I am a big girl, and I made my own horrible decisions.  Besides, I don’t feel caught in the middle of anything.”

“You don’t?”

“Not even a little,” Liss explained, “Alistair loves you so much.  I couldn’t compete, even if I wanted to, and I don’t. What happened between us was a thoughtless, impulsive, example of coping gone wrong.  He is my friend, and I prefer to keep him that way.”

“That is… good to hear,” Lucia remarked with a soft smile, “I hated the thought that you might be uncomfortable.”

“You have to be one of the most forgiving people in Thedas.”

“I don’t much care for the options left to me if I chose not to forgive Alistair, or you,” the woman explained, a soft smile twitching on her lips, “Nathaniel tells me that I have a right to be angry, and so I am letting myself be angry, but I refuse to hold a grudge.   I am not so innocent in all of this, anyway. For what it’s worth, I am glad you were there for Alistair when I wasn’t.”

“Seriously?” “I felt so guilty for leaving him alone.  I am glad that was not the case.”

“You are welcome… I think.”

There was a long heavy pause, and Liss wondered if Lucia was at just as much of a loss for words as she was.  Just when she thought she could bear it no longer, Lucia spoke again.

“Nathaniel speaks highly of you.”  

“He better,” Liss quipped, and smiled at the woman next to her.  To her surprise, Lucia laughed, seeming to appreciate the joke.

“Anyway.”  Lucia pushed up from her chair, so that she was standing, “I should probably get back to preparing for the return to Amaranthine.  We have a city to rebuild. Thank you for speaking with me.”

“Thank you for the same.”  

The Warden-Commander nodded, and turned to leave the room, and Liss called after her urgently.  “Wait.”

Spinning around abruptly, Lucia looked at Liss from beneath furrowed brows.  “Something the matter?”

“It is my understanding that there are only a handful of Wardens in Ferelden?”

“There are seven,” Lucia replied with a bitter laugh, “Including myself and Alistair. Why?

“I want to join.”

Lucia returned to sit in the chair where she’d been before, eyes burning into Liss’ face. “Becoming a Grey Warden is not something to take lightly.  Once you join, there is no turning back.” “When I was a child, Duncan visited Highever on a number of occasions looking for recruits.  I always asked him and my father if I could join some day. They always answered with some variation of what you just said.  It didn’t change my mind.

“I wasn’t able to go with Duncan, even when I was old enough that I could have.  For all my parents valued my independence, they still coddled me, expected me to be a lady who just happened to know how to fight.  My life has changed. My role doesn’t matter anymore. This is my chance.”

Lucia drew in a shaky breath, clearly weighing the decision internally.  “Very well,” she finally said, “It would be an honor to have you among our ranks.”

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #nathaniel howe #nathaniel howe x cousland #cousland #tempereance update #my writing

[darlingrutherford]

Hi hope your doing great! I just have a quick question. Wht should it take for the girls or maybe even the guys to end their relationship. No idea why I’m asking other than the fact it just popped into my head.

Hi lovely! Thanks for the ask! I'm gonna assume this is a DA related question, if not please feel free to clarify! ❤️

Lana is already insecure as it is, so if Alistair ever gave her reason to doubt his loyalty that would be a pretty good reason for her. Granted, she and Alistair have a huge level of trust with each other (you have to in order to have a healthy power-exchange dynamic), so it's not something she expects to ever happen.Lana actually does try to end it a couple times in the beginning, but Alistair is always able to talk her out of it since her reasoning is always that she doesn't want him to get hurt, not that she doesn't want to be with him. I actually do have one upsetting AU I don't explore much, where they do break it off because Alistair chooses to step up and be King at the Landsmeet. Lana actually ends up leaving immediately after ending the Blight because she feels abandoned by him, since he essentially "isn't sure" he can announce that he won't be finding a queen if it can't be Lana. She doesn't want to be queen by any means, but it sounds to her like Eamon may be able to sway Alistair to marry someone else, such as Anora, if even for appearance sake, and she's not okay with that. So, she leaves, and that gets split into a forked timeline of 1) where Alistair goes after her and finds her within a week and they resolve things, or 2) where Alistair waits too long to try to find her and she's hidden away by then.

As for Alistair, he definitely needs someone who thinks well of him. Someone who is constantly picking on him in a not loving way will probably wear on his patience. He may throw self deprecating jokes around like they're candy, but that doesn't mean he wants to hear them from his SO's mouth. He needs someone who sees him for who he is and loves him for that. If he doesn't get that support, I can see him bringing it up and giving an ultimatum. We definitely see a lot in DAO based on our warden's choices the kind of things that will get Alistair to break things off. Choices that throw others under the cart so to speak, uncaring decisions with disregard for the bigger picture. All those things just add up over time until he's ultimately going to realize he's just not made for them.

Sarya definitely needs a level of trust and respect the same as Lana, but for her to break things off with Cullen would take a lot. She's seen how Cullen is trying to atone for his past, and even though they may get into arguments about their individual beliefs she is able to put herself in his shoes and come to an understanding about most things. Cullen would probably have to become passive or rude to a point of indifference for her to break things off. Otherwise, she just tries so hard to fix everything. I feel like Cullen is pretty similar in that respect. I don't think he'd try as hard to fix things as Sarya, considering how freaking stubborn he is, but he'd try to patch things up once he's removed himself from things and has more of a clear head. Obviously, blood magic would probably be a huge line in the sand for him and would require a lot of thinking on his part if he were to continue a relationship after something like that.

#Lana Surana #Alistair Theirin #Lanistair #Cullen Rutherford #Sarya Lavellan #Cullavellan #dragon age #my OCs

[bigfan-fanfic]

30 Questions About Your Dragon Age Protagonists

from @littlebirdofprey - I reblogged it here in case anyone else wants to do it.

Warden(s): Aster Amell, Morgan Walker

Hawke(s): Cal and Ava Hawke

Inquisitor: Tash Adaar

What would your Warden generally think of your Hawke and your inquisitor?

Aster thinks Tash is the most adorable thing. He also secretly approves of Cal letting his old friend Anders go free. He wouldn’t trust Ava much, considering she is in a relationship with a man who hates mages and a man Aster calls a “warmongering ex-Chantry boy.”

Ava reminds Morgan of Morrigan, although he’d never tell either of them that. He thinks Cal is a fool who is incapable of taking things seriously. He feels protective of Tash, thinking the boy is too young to have such responsibility on him.

What would your Hawke generally think of your warden and your Inquisitor?

Considering Cal adopts Tash with Varric, he enjoys the boy’s company, but thinks Tash could loosen up a little. He underestimates Aster because the Chancellor seems so soft and friendly. Cal thinks Morgan is too dour and serious. Ava finds it hard to get over her distrust of Qunari, but finds Tash to be pleasant enough, if a tad annoying. She respects Aster for being a mage in a position of power. She is completely indifferent to Morgan.

What would your Inquisitor generally think of your warden and your Hawke?

Tash looks up to Cal because he seems so cool, especially after reading The Tale of the Champion. He’s disappointed that Ava seems to judge him for his horns and their relationship will never be any warmer than tepid. He likes Aster because they both have similar personalities. He might have a slight crush on Morgan because he’s very handsome.

What would they think about each other’s love interests (if they romanced someone of course)

Aster dislikes Fenris simply because Fenris would hate him on principle. He thinks Sebastian is a fool and cretin. He would get along with Varric. Morgan appreciates Fenris’ position as valid, since mages are dangerous, but he can’t stand Sebastian’s Chanty self-righteousness.

Ava and Cal are both surprised that Morrigan and Morgan are a couple. Birds of a feather, they suppose... Cal thinks Aster did well marriage-wise. Ava thinks Alistair is a bit of a ditz.

 Tash thinks Aster and Alistair are the cutest couple, and wants to have a relationship like theirs. Surprisingly, Tash likes and respects Morrigan. He thinks Fenris is too rigid against mages and... well, Sebastian was his least favorite character in The Tale of the Champion. Tash adores Varric. 

Is your inquisitor jealous that both the warden and Hawke have a mabari hound?

Yes. Tash loves mabari.

What would they think of each other’s combat skills/techniques?

All of them are surprised at Tash’s mastery of magic. Morgan shapeshifts in combat and is surprisingly physical for a mage, which Cal appreciates. Aster’s healing magic is universally appreciated. None of the mages thinks much of Ava’s force magic. Tash likes Cal’s flashy style, while Morgan and Aster disapprove.

What would your inquisitor and warden think of what happened in Kirkwall? Would they have supported Hawke’s decisions?

Tash admires Cal, but wishes that Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth didn’t receive the brunt of the blame for the Arishok’s actions. They aren’t Qunari. Qunari could be humans, even. He wonders, though, if siding with the Chantry against the Qunari would have been any better.

Aster is horrified that his old friend Anders could have blown up the Chantry. This is not the friendly young apprentice nor the snarky, kind Warden he knew. He approves of Hawke siding with the mages over the Chantry.

Morgan has very little opinion of the events in Kirkwall beyond how they effect his family. His wife is trying to mingle her way into Celene’s ear to sponsor her research into the Crossroads - he hasn’t got time to worry about a Chantry being blown up.

Would your warden or Hawke have actually accepted the role of inquisitor if Cassandra had located them as she’d planned to? Would they have been a good leader for the Inquisition?

Aster is not exactly hidden, but as the King-Consort and Chancellor of Ferelden, as well as Arl of Amaranthine, he’s not in any position to become Inquisitor. However, he would have been exceptional in the role, having built up connections over ten years and remaining a powerful warrior.

Morgan would not accept under any circumstance. He’s engrossed in being a father and a research assistant to his wife, as well as helping Warden-Commander Caron search for a cure to the Taint. He’s too unconcerned with people’s opinion to be a good Inquisitor.

Ava might have accepted the role, but she’s worried she might be pregnant, and doesn’t want to risk the possible future heir to Starkhaven’s throne.She’d be terrible as Inquisitor, being far too ruthless (and contemptuous of Orlesians) to win the people’s hearts.

Cal would not have accepted. He’s done his part for the people, he thinks, and he can’t give any more of himself than he already has. He’s content to stay by Varric’s side for the rest of his days, simply reading about adventures in his husband’s novels. He’d be a good Inquisitor, though, with his diplomatic style and easy charm.

Do your protagonists share the same opinions on the Chantry?

No. Aster is a believer in the Maker and the Chantry. He knows things aren’t perfect, but thinks the Chantry can help improve. Ava also believes in the Chantry, although she disapproves of the Circles.

Cal doesn’t like the Chantry. He doesn’t believe in the Maker, and he doesn’t think the Chantry is good for much more than bigotry and fanaticism. Morgan also has a dislike for the Chantry, although he figures it’s possible the Maker exists. 

Tash believes in the Maker, but not Andraste. For all anybody knows, the lady could have been crazy, or manipulating people like he’s been doing. So he puts Leliana on the Sunburst Throne because even if the Chant is utter nonsense, she can use it to help people. 

Do your protagonists share the same opinions on mages rights?

Yes. All of them believe that mages should have the same rights as non-mages, and that it is wrong to imprison them in the circles.

Do your protagonists share the same opinions on blood magic?

No. While nearly all of them disapprove of blood magic, it is for different reasons. Aster hates blood magic because the Chantry says it is wrong. Cal doesn’t trust it. Tash thinks that it’s too dangerous to trust people with.

Morgan doesn’t think blood magic itself is inherently bad, just the practitioners. Ava 10/10 would use (and has used) blood magic, although she refrains in front of her lovers and friends.

Do your protagonists share the same opinions on The Game?

Fereldens tend to hate the game on principle, so Aster, Cal, and Ava all have a dislike for Orlesian politics, although Aster and Cal tend to excel at it by being friendly people. It’s harder for Ava.

Morgan thinks it’s stupid, but he knows it’s a fact of Orlesian life and determines he won’t be caught not knowing the rules. He is just as responsible as Morrigan is for their rise to power as the Empress’ Court Sorcerers.

Tash loves the Game, probably because he’s a natural. He’s also young enough that he doesn’t quite understand the severity of some of the moves necessary to excel in the game, so he’s quite a dangerous opponent. He and Josephine and Leliana make a threatening trio.

If they’d been in each other’s places would they have made the same or different choices? And who would they have romanced, if anyone?

Roughly the same. Cal might have put Anora on the throne and romanced either Leliana or Zevran. Ava would have defiled those Ashes and probably tried to bag Zevran or Alistair. Tash would have gone roughly the same, except he would let Alistair stay a Warden and might have wiggled his way into becoming an Arl.

 Aster might have executed Anders. He wouldn’t have romanced anyone. Morgan might have tried to play the political game and try to remove or assassinate Meredith before things could escalate. He might have gravitated to Merrill, Isabela, or Anders. Tash would have sided at various times against the Chantry and the Qunari, possibly making more chaos. Varric totally would have adopted him then, too.

 Aster would love to have met Cullen again after all those years and might have tried to romance him. He’d put Briala on the throne. Morgan would go mostly similar, but he’d romance Josephine and perhaps he might have had something with Solas. Cal would have gone with Celene and saved the mages and romanced the Iron Bull or Josephine. Ava would have disbanded the Templars to control them and then romanced Blackwall.

Would your protagonists have the same character alignment?  

Aster, Morgan, Tash: Neutral Good (Aster wavers between Neutral and Lawful Good; Tash has some Neutral Evil in him because he’ll do his best to advance himself and his loved ones while doing good)

Cal: Chaotic Good

Ava: Chaotic Neutral or Neutral Evil

Would your protagonists have the same Hogwarts house?

Cal: Gryffindor

Tash: Hufflepuff

Aster, Morgan: Ravenclaw

Ava: Slytherin

If Origins and Inquisition had the 3 personalities (Diplomatic, Sarcastic, Aggressive) which would your warden and inquisitor have predominately been? And what one did your Hawke have?

Morgan would be clearly Sarcastic. Aster would be totally Diplomatic.

Tash would be Diplomatic.

Cal was a clean middle Diplomatic-Sarcastic, though Diplomatic won out, and Ava was Aggressive with some Sarcastic.

What is the biggest similarity between your protagonists?

They all depend hard on their companions/love interests. Aster and Morgan both went through some serious culture shock because Aster had been in the Circle as long as he could remember and Morgan was from a completely different world. Cal suddenly felt like he didn’t have to be alone in protecting and raising his siblings and could have some friends and fun for once. Ava learned from a young age that she needed to look out for number one, but finds it helpful to lean on her companions and rewarding when they lean on her. Tash had recently lost his entire family, and the Inner Circle became a new family group for him, giving him new parents, aunts, uncles, and siblings.

What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

How selfless they are. Ava is the most selfish and power-hungry, wanting to impose her will on a world that has tried its best to marginalize her. She’ll use everything in her power, from pushing Sebastian to make them rulers of Starkhaven to using blood magic. Although he’s a lovely person, Tash might be the second most selfish, as he’s a child and of course he’s going to want to promote his own needs and his new family over everyone else. Then comes Morgan, who really does have a heroic personality and kind of adopts anyone he meets who needs help, but his main focuses, in order, are Kieran, Morrigan, and himself. Cal is self-sacrificing, but a reluctant hero through and through who just wanted to coast through life without having to take care of much. He learns by Inquisition that maybe he doesn’t have to be responsible for the world anymore. Aster truly wants to help people, which kind of makes him and Alistair the best rulers of Ferelden, even if he needs to learn how to take breaks.

Who handles responsibility the best? And who handles it the worst?

Aster handles responsibility with grace and expedience. He does everything on time and is very useful in managing others. Alistair does his best to teach him to slow down and calm down.

Cal hates being responsible for something. He’s been responsible for his siblings all his life and just wants to relax a little.

Do they share any of the same hobbies?

Not really. Aster, Tash, and Ava are all avid readers.

Would you ever ship any of them together?

Possibly Morgan/Aster, Morgan/Ava, or Morgan/Cal, but nothing else.

How old were each of your protagonists at the start of their respective games? Do you think their age affected the choices they made? Looking back would they have done any major action differently?

Aster was only 19 at the start of Origins, while Morgan was a more reasonable 23. While still young, neither of them would have changed their decisions.

Not entirely sure how old the Hawkes were, but Cal was a young adult and Ava a teenager at the beginning. By Inquisition, Cal is in his mid-to-late thirties and Ava in her late twenties.

Tash is around 12-13 at the start of Inquisition.

How do each of your protagonists handle loss?

Aster: Reasonably well.    

Morgan: Alright.         

Ava: Moves right on. 

Tash: cries a lot but moves to healing.   

Cal: poorly.

What is/was their relationship with their family like?

For Aster, non-existent. He was taken to the Circle at a very young age and does not remember his family. They disowned their mage son and had no contact. Morgan loved his father, but his mother was verbally and at times physically abusive. Leandra always treated Cal less than because (unbeknownst to him), he was the son of Malcolm with an elven woman. He always felt like she hated him and was using him as a nanny to the Twins and Ava. He gets along with his sisters better than Carver. Ava always felt neglected and forgotten by Leandra. She gets along with her brothers and has an intense rivalry with Bethany. Tash had a wonderful family, barring his Saarebas birth mother who tried to take him back to the Qun.

Do any of your protagonists marry and/or have children?

Aster marries Alistair after many years of being his Chancellor and lover. They may seek to adopt a child or use a surrogate for Alistair to create an heir.

Cal marries Varric after reuniting post-Inquisition and they adopt Tash (and Cole).

Ava marries Sebastian to become Princess of Starkhaven, but is in a polyamorous relationship with him and Fenris. She may be pregnant with Fenris’ child.

Morgan has Kieran with Morrigan and a relationship with her, though they aren’t married in the eyes of the Chantry.

Tash: maybe in the future.

What would their fears on the graves in the fade during Here Lies The Abyss be?

Aster: Hopelessness

Tash: Solitude

Cal: Never Being Free

Ava: Powerlessness

Morgan: This Is All A Dream

How do they each feel about the Deep Roads?

Aster: “It’s creepy and I hate it.”

Tash: “Get me out. Get me out. Get me out....”

Cal: “It’s okay, once you get used to the dark. And the claustrophobia. And the oppressive silence. It’s actually kinda nice. Not saying I’d build a summer home here, but...”

Ava: “I have a feeling the Maker was not in a good mood when He made these tunnels.”

Morgan: “Nope.”

#dragon age #ocs #my ocs #asks #tash adaar #morgan walker #aster amell #cal hawke #ava hawke

[shannaraisles]

A Rose By Any Name - Chapter 14

In which Alistair does what a king does best (in theory) and encounters something he wasn’t expecting. Banner created by the superb @kagetsukai.

[Read on AO3] OR [Read from the beginning]

There was nothing worse than letting Maria down, Alistair had decided. But since this particular instance of letting her down actually involved her future, he thought he was allowed to feel slightly less guilty about it on the whole. That still didn't make telling her that their playtime was going to have to be postponed any easier.

"But ... you said we could play ..."

There was the pout, and the big eyes, and Alistair could feel the guilt coursing through him as he crouched down beside her.

"I know I did," he told her, sure that the best way to get through this was to admit he had done wrong and make sure he made it up to her later. "I'm a terrible cad, and you have every right to be angry with me. To make it up to you, I will set aside my entire afternoon tomorrow. Is that enough to earn your forgiveness? Please, please, pretty please, oh gorgeous little mischief Maria?"

The pout didn't last long in the face of his cajoling, breaking into giggles as she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his shirt. Alistair grinned, hugging the little girl fondly in return.

"All right," she conceded. "But only if we get the whole afternoon, and you do the horsey thing."

"Again?"

But even he couldn't feign weariness with her favorite trick, which was to ride him like a horse until someone pointed out how undignified it was for the King of Ferelden to be galloping around the palace neighing. Alistair chuckled, nodding as he rose to stand once again.

"I bow to your whim, little lady," he promised her, raising his eyes to find Princess Fabs standing to one side. Unconsciously, his face lit up with a bright smile as he took Maria's hand to escort her to the princess' custody. "I give the marvelous madame of mischief into your care, Fabs."

The Antivan woman's smile seemed unenthusiastic in answer, a far cry from the warmth of the day before. "Thank you, your majesty," she answered, polite but cool.

Alistair's smile faltered. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, unable to keep himself from inquiring. "You seem ... out of sorts."

"Nothing that time will not heal, your majesty," she assured him, taking Maria's hand into her own.

"Alistair," he corrected her. "My name is Alistair."

"It does not seem appropriate that I call you by your name," Felicita told him quietly, glancing toward the ladies waiting for her, namely Ciara, Callista, and Ceridwyn. "You are the king, and I am merely a guest in your home."

Alistair stared at her, nonplussed by this odd sense of detachment. She'd been so warm, so lovely, and now ...

"Have I offended you, princess?" he pressed, his hand hesitating between them, wanting to take her hand but knowing that to do so would result in gossip he wasn't quite ready for. "If I have, there was no intention to -"

"Alistair!"

His jaw clenched at the peremptory call from behind him. Only one of his nobles did that, and with this unexpected council meeting looming before him, it did not bode well for the tone of the evening ahead. Felicita's expression turned to a frown as she looked past him to Arl Eamon, her gentle eyes hard for a long moment until Alistair heard his uncle stutter an apology. I really should learn how she does that.

"Your majesty ... I mean. Your council is waiting."

Let them wait, Alistair thought irritably. Fabs is upset about something and she won't tell me what it is. But Fabs was not going to tell him, it seemed, already lowering into a curtsy with Maria.

"We will not take up any more of your time, your majesty," she promised, her smile brightening as she looked down at her little companion. "We have things to do, don't we?"

Maria's face lit up. "Painting things?" she asked, squealing happily as Felicita nodded.

"Dare I ask?" Alistair grinned down at her.

Maria offered him a sweet smile in return. "No, because it's a secret."

"Ah, well, a lady must be allowed her secrets," he agreed affectionately. His gaze rose to meet Fabs' once again. "Though I hope she would share some of those secrets with those who care to know them."

He was pleased to see her smile in answer, though it was still not the smile he recalled from just a day ago.

"A lady would share everything with the one who loves her," she informed him candidly. "And it would be a pleasure to have such trust."

"It would," he agreed, relaxing his concern just a little, though confusion still tugged at his heart. There was a pointed cough from behind him, and he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Forgive me, I really must go. Enjoy your evening, ladies."

He bowed to them - little lady, princess, and friends - and turned to stalk past Eamon toward the council chamber, inwardly berating his uncle. He'd never yet managed to say the words out loud, but just the fact that he was playing what he would like to say through his mind was a sign that things were definitely beginning to come to a head in that relationship. It was time Eamon stopped reaching for power that was never his to dream for, and with luck, this session would make it blindingly clear that the arl's star was fading.

That luck was definitely with him, it seemed. As soon as the doors were closed, Eamon started.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded, just barely preventing himself from pointing at Anora, seated demurely at the privy council table. "This is a privy council meeting."

"Teyrna Mac Tir is here at the king's invitation, Arl Eamon," Fergus Cousland said sternly, dropping into his own seat opposite Anora and beside Shianni Tabris.

"She resigned her seat!" Eamon protested, but didn't get any further.

Demelza had just walked in through the door he had closed behind them, her own closing sounding rather more final than his had. The elven Warden and Hero of Ferelden offered him a brittle, insincere smile.

"Oh, has the bitching started already?" she asked innocently. "What a shame, I do enjoy watching elderly men behaving like bigoted old farts in company."

Shianni didn't even try to hide her snort of laughter at this announcement; even Alistair had to fight not to let his uncle see how widely he was smiling. The privy council was a small group of trusted friends, and met very rarely - what they would be discussing was actually what Alistair would usually discuss with Eamon, Shianni, and his secretary, Cormac. Eamon had learned not to dismiss Shianni reasonably early on; it appeared that he had forgotten he was not the only voice in Alistair's sphere. While Fergus did not often have the leisure to come to the capital and join them, and Dem was a rare face in Denerim too, they both had as much, if not more, right to sit on this council than the arl himself.

"Do sit down, uncle," Alistair suggested, taking a seat himself.

He watched as Dem placed herself quite deliberately next to Shianni, leaving the only vacant seat the one directly beside Anora. Eamon's jaw twitched, but he kept his mouth shut, sitting down stiffly next to the teryna who, it had to be said, didn't look any happier with the seating arrangements.

Alistair nodded to each of them, sobering his expression. He wasn't wholly sure this council meeting was going to go well - Eamon seemed to be spoiling for a fight, no doubt hoping to regain a little of the dignity he had lost over the Rosamunde fiasco.

"Cormac?"

The king's personal secretary was seated beside him, ready with the matters that needed discussion and decisions made by this select group. He shuffled his papers a little nervously.

"Your majesty." Clearing his throat, Cormac looked around at the gathering of the privy council. "There are only a few matters that require input. For one, the appointing of a new Orlesian ambassador. Emperor Gaspard has appointed Lady Jolien De Valors to the position here at court - she is expected within a week."

"Lady Jolien is a known spy," Anora offered in a tone of vague suspicion. "Rather too well known to be given such a prominent position. I would suggest investigating the staff she brings with her for the true spy."

"Such suspicions merely show how deeply your father's prejudices are instilled in you, Anora," Eamon scoffed. "To assume that the Orlesians would send a spy to our court -"

"- is perfectly acceptable, uncle," Alistair pointed out. "Aren't you the one who told me that I must expect and accept the presence of foreign spies within the ambassadorial appointments to the palace?"

"There is no need for Orlais to place spies in the palace," Eamon answered. "We are allies."

"We are also allied with Nevarra and Antiva, and it is not unreasonable to assume they have agents among their people here," Fergus interjected. "It's a common political practice, Eamon. Far better to know which of the Orlesians needs watching than to let them pull the wool over our eyes with such an obvious appointment to the vacant position."

"With your permission, your majesty, I will coordinate with the spymaster and learn what we can of Lady Jolien's party," Cormac offered.

Alistair nodded, ignoring the annoyed expression on his uncle's face. He caught Shianni's eye, the familiar glint that told him she had something to say but needed to be invited to speak before she would interrupt.She had never yet volunteered her information without Alistair inviting her to, no doubt a holdover from her worst experiences before the Blight.

"There was some talk of the former Orlesian ambassador interfering in the running of the alienage," he said, giving the elven bann the invitation she needed. "Shianni?"

"We found the collaborator," the redhead said in her stern way. "A human merchant who employs some of my people was putting pressure on them to carry messages - threatening their homes, their jobs, that sort of thing. It's been passed on to the Bann of Denerim, but I can't say for sure he's done anything about it."

"I'll suggest he does," Alistair assured her. "I will not have the elves mistreated or made pawns in some elaborate game designed to make them the enemy, not again."

"Thank you."

Shianni nodded to him, glancing to Dem, who was smiling in approval. Having an elf in his inner councils hadn't been a shrewd political move, but it was one of the best decisions Alistair had ever made. There had been no trouble in the alienage for a decade, thanks to Shianni's ability to let him know when his human nobles were letting things slide. In fact, there had been very little trouble in any of Ferelden's alienages since it had become known that if the local bann or arl did not curb their human people's excesses, somehow word of it would reach the king, and he would very pointedly demand they did their duty.

"Is there any more news on the hunt for the assassin?" Alistair asked then, turning his attention to Fergus Cousland.

Fergus shook his head wearily. "Not a sign," he admitted. "We are rapidly coming to the conclusion that it must have been a freak accident. It's not entirely unfeasible that a fire was lit in that room erroneously, and if left unattended, burning wood could have jumped onto the rug and started the blaze."

"Wasn't the blaze started on the bed, though?" Dem asked in a curious tone.

"That's where the confusion comes in," Fergus admitted. "It is possible that Ceri's attempts to fight the fire before alerting anyone may have transferred the flames to the bed and thus made it worse."

"Ceri?" Dem repeated innocently.

Alistair bit down on his smile as Fergus flushed, stumbling over a correction to the familiar way he had spoken of one of the prospective brides. Not that the king minded at all; it was good to see Fergus finding some common ground with someone who was definitely determined to make him smile.

"I would suggest we maintain the close guard on the ladies, however," Fergus went on, rolling his eyes at the knowing trio of feminine smiles pointed at him from around the table. "We may yet have missed something, and it would be better to be safe, rather than sorry."

"True," Anora agreed. "One threat to our foreign visitors is permissible - a further suggestion of violence against them will have a devastating effect on our place in international politics."

"All right, maintain the watch," Alistair told Fergus with a nod. "But relax it a little where you can. Maria, in particular, is very uneasy to always be in the close presence of an armed soldier."

Fergus considered this for a moment before agreeing. "She is constantly in the presence of one of the other ladies, even at night," he conceded. "I can remove her bodyguard if it will make her more comfortable."

"Which rather neatly leads us into the next order of business," Cormac said smoothly, producing a collection of papers from his pile. "Inesa, Queen of Rivain, has agreed to the king's request to adopt Lady Maria as a ward of the Ferelden crown. She has sent the official documentation, including a signed affidavit from the Grand Cleric of Dairsmuid agreeing to the transfer of nationality."

"I do not see why that is a council matter," Eamon said in a dismissive tone. "Put the child in an orphanage and have done with it. She cannot be allowed to remain in close quarters with the king once he chooses his bride."

Alistair felt his jaw stiffen at the man's attitude. Has he not paid attention to any of the information we've been given about that little girl's life so far? Does he really think I would offer her sanctuary and then throw her away? He opened his mouth to respond ... but Anora was already speaking.

"I find it fascinating, Arl Eamon, that you are so ready to dismiss a child out of hand again," the blonde teryna commented in a deceptively mild tone. "One would have thought that your past experiences in such matters would have taught you to keep your opinions to yourself on this matter."

"I fail to see your point," was Eamon's cold answer, and Alistair found his gaze turning to Anora, surprised to see a glint of relish in her eyes.

"Let us revisit your past attempts, by all means," she replied, just as cold in tone as the arl sat beside her. "You were given charge of King Maric's second son; at the first test of your loyalty to the boy, you cast him away to the Templars and did not even appear to notice when they, in turn, gave him to the Grey Wardens. Indeed, you only became interested in him again when the fact of his existence offered you a path to power."

"How dare you -"

"And, of course, there is the way you have treated your own son," Anora continued, ignoring Eamon's spluttering indignation beside her. "Again, bowing to your wife's demands, you endangered Redcliffe and everyone living there by attempting to keep Connor's magic a secret, inadvertently placing yourself in mortal danger as well at a time of crisis for the country. As I understand it, you have not even spoken to your son since he was sent to the Circle, and do not allow many to speak his name in your presence. Did I forget anything?"

"Ooh, I know," Dem offered with a sweet smile. "He's just recommended that a little girl who has spent her life so far in a Chantry orphanage with no connection to anyone beyond a Reverend Mother with severe issues, by the sound of things, should be sent to another Chantry orphanage and forgotten by the one person who can make her life change for the better?"

"Ah, yes, of course." Anora inclined her head to the elven Warden. "Thank you. Well, Arl Eamon?" she added, turning to look at the man beside her once again. "Would you care to continue spouting nonsense designed to keep yourself in your position of influence, or would you rather shut your mouth and listen to what the king has decided?"

"I am merely attempting to point out that taking a child of foreign heritage and unknown parentage into the royal household is not a wise decision." Eamon cleared his throat, looking to Alistair. "We know nothing of this girl's background beyond what the Chantry has told us. She could be anything - if you take her into the royal family, she could be used as a weapon against us."

"Good points," Anora allowed, "but irrelevant. This is the king's decision, not yours, and by extending this offer, Alistair has clearly already made his choice."

"My advice is not irrelevant, my lady," Eamon began, but Alistair was already cutting him off.

"Enough, uncle," he said sharply. "Anora is absolutely right, my decision is already made. It was made as soon as I found out Maria has nothing waiting for her but abuse and loneliness. I maintain she will be a ward of the crown, she will have a place here in the royal household, and she will be treated as though she is a lady of the blood. I am not about to suddenly make her my heir - quite apart from anything else, that is the last thing I would wish on a little girl who just needs a family."

"You could place her with a family of good standing," Eamon pressed.

Alistair's expression turned stony. He had had enough of being talked over, of having his decisions questioned, of listening to Eamon drone on and on in the hope of wearing him down. Enough was enough.

"I am a family of good standing," he informed the older man. "The whole point of this ridiculous month - something you arranged and bartered for among the Landsmeet - is to provide Ferelden with a queen and me with a wife. Maria will have a mother and a father within a few months. She is staying with me, if she chooses to, and that is all I am going to say on the subject."

"What about Princess Felicita?" Dem asked, cutting over any further attempts by the arl to force his viewpoint on the gathering. "Word is she's offered the same sort of position in her own household to Maria."

"As I understand it, the Antivan ambassador was also sent word of Queen Inesa's decision," Cormac told her. "The princess is well-versed in the political landscape; it is likely she will understand the reasoning behind this choice."

Alistair hesitated, confused by the injection of information he hadn't yet been made aware of.

"I didn't know she'd ... Of course, Maria can make her own decision," he stuttered, pulling himself together with a frown. "What reasoning?"

Anora tilted her head. "Antivan politics is a dangerous game, Alistair," she explained, almost gently. "As much the princess may wish to offer the child safety at her side, as a princess of the Antivan blood royal, she cannot always assume that her side will be the safest place to be. Blood is a currency that is often paid in Antiva by the unwary and unwilling."

"Maria would be safer here," Shianni translated bluntly. "The princess probably already told her that."

Alistair's frown didn't immediately lift at this news, but it wasn't because of the obvious concern. Is that why Fabs was so cold with me just now? he wondered, thinking back on the strange interaction. Is she angry that Queen Inesa decided to give Maria to me and not her? But as soon as that thought trickled through his mind, another came to assuage the guilt. I can make it up to her. I'll just ... make sure she knows how welcome she is here. Can't propose, not yet, but I can make it clear I like her. Maria likes her. We could ... we could be a family. As a slow smile crossed his face, he heard Dem clear her throat, looking up to find his friend swiping her fingers across her mouth with a warning look in her eyes.

Realizing he was the center of attention for the entire table, Alistair echoed the motion, wiping the smile from his face as he nodded professionally.

"I trust that the princess will do as she sees fit," he said, hastily looking to Cormac for rescue. "Any further items?"

The secretary swallowed what looked like a smile of his own, lifting a piece of parchment weighed down by the heavy wax seal of the Inquisition.

"Inquisitor Lavellan is requesting permission to send an expedition into the Frostback Basin," he explained, drawing the slightly antagonistic silence toward himself. "It would appear they are in search of the truth behind the first Inquisitor's disappearance, and have funding from the University of Orlais."

As the details were shared and dissected, Alistair let the conversation slide past without much need to pay attention. In this, at least, he trusted this group to make the appropriate decision without his input. No, he was more concerned with Fabs and her apparent change toward him. Was she really so put out by having Maria's guardianship snatched away from her? And how could he put it right, he wondered. The time was fast approaching for him to make his decision, but without her consent, it would be pointless to declare it. So what should he do?

Whatever he decided, it would have to be something special. Something she couldn't misconstrue.

But how to do that, when he couldn't even get her name right?

#a rose by any name #king alistair theirin #politics #arl eamon #anora mac tir #fergus cousland #shianni tabris #demelza tabris #maria of rivain #princess fabs #i have no idea #a little bit of this is fluff #and a little bit is angst #but mostly #just a king doing what a king does

[randomnonsensedragonage]

Adjustments and Apologies

For @alistairappreciationweek​, Day 2- Alistair as King

CW: Major character death (in the past)

Description: Alistair adjusts to being king, the loss of his love, and the renewed presence of Anora.

A/N: This story takes place in a canon in which the Warden has died, Alistair is ruling alone, and Anora is not queen (but still hanging around).

Just for clarity’s sake, my intention with this story and the ones that follow is for things to eventually lead to Alistair x Anora, but the two are still so antagonistic in this one that it felt weird to tag that as the pairing ^^;

As the members of the royal council filed from the meeting room, Alistair and Teagan stood off to the side, talking quietly. At least, that was the intention. Alistair struggled to keep his voice down.

“Teagan,” Alistair said. “I made a promise! You know that.”

Teagan shushed him gently, looking around the emptying room.

“I know, Alistair,” he said. “And I’m sorry. But you know we can’t afford to offend the Templars right now. Your uncle agrees with me.”

Alistair clenched his fists, struggling to keep his voice level.

“So, you’re saying the plan is dead in the water?” he said. “No autonomy for the Circle?”

Teagan shook his head sadly. “Not at this time.”

Alistair let out a huff of anger.

“When are things going to change around here, Teagan?” he said. “I-I study all the laws, I meet with every arl and bann, and yet I can accomplish nothing real. This—”

He let out a deep breath, not finishing his sentence. This was not what she wanted.

“Change is slow,” Teagan said. “Be patient.”

He reached out to lay a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, but Alistair shrugged him off. Without so much as a goodbye to Teagan, he stalked out of the room.

Alistair was so agitated when he left the room that he turned first left, then abruptly right, in the corridor. As a result he practically crashed into, of all people, Anora.

She took a step back, and it was plain by her face she was as caught off guard as he was. Then, she shook out her skirts and bobbed a small curtsy.

“Pardon me, your majesty,” she said. “I did not see you.”

Alistair shrugged and muttered something about it not mattering, then wove around her to continue on his way. However, he thought he felt her eyes on the back of his neck.

He knew that giving Anora her freedom had been the right thing to do. Legally she was his heir, and she would be a great help if they could win her trust. But being around her still gave Alistair the willies. He couldn’t believe Rora had even suggested he marry her.

This disloyal thought sent a stab of guilt through him, almost dizzying. But it was quickly interrupted by light, rushing footsteps on the flagstones behind him. His heart sank at her voice.

“Your majesty.”

Anora. She rushed up and fell into step beside him.

“I hope you will excuse the interruption,” she said. “But I could not help but overhear your discussion with Bann Teagan.”

I bet you couldn’t, Alistair thought. But all he said was, “Ah.”

They continued down the corridor, and, when Alistair said nothing more, Anora continued.

“If I may be so bold, your majesty,” she said, “your plan was too rashly executed. I am not surprised it failed.”

Alistair felt his face go hot, but he kept his emotions under control. “I see,” was all he said.

“Reform is a fine thing,” Anora went on, “but you would do well to first earn the trust of your subjects through more modest measures. That is what I would do.”

“Yes,” Alistair said. “I’m sure you would have done much better.”

If Anora noted the sarcasm in his voice, she ignored it. She came to a stop in the corridor, forcing him to come to a stop as well, and faced him.

“I love this kingdom, your majesty,” she said. “And I want to see it governed well. To that end, I think it would be prudent for you and I to join forces.”

Alistair blinked at her. Teagan and Eamon had told him to expect a proposal of this sort, but he had hardly expected it so soon. That, and he was already on his last nerve. He spoke without thinking.

“Yes, very prudent,” he said. His sarcasm was even more apparent now. “And the idea of having influence over the king holds no appeal for you at all, I’m sure. You just ‘love your kingdom.’”

Anora pursed her lips, and stretched herself up to her full height. It always surprised him how tall she was, barely shorter than him.

“I do love my kingdom,” she said. “Is it so shocking that I want to have some influence over it?”

“It is when you’re so brazenly self-interested,” he said.

Anora’s pale cheeks went red, the first indication Alistair had ever seen of her anger.

“Do not talk to me of self-interest,” she said. “Since becoming king, all you have tried to do is push through your little pet projects.”

Alistair opened his mouth to protest, but Anora was on a roll now.

“You give no thought to the daily needs of your subjects,” she said. “You push and you push at your council, all in the name of some altruistic, egomaniacal—"

“Enough!!”

Alistair hadn’t intended to shout, but shout he did, loud enough that some nearby servants stopped to look at them and mutter. His face immediately went hot with embarrassment, but it was mixed with the anger that still coursed through him. He struggled to level out his voice.

“It is not—” He took a deep breath. “I don’t do these things for me. I do them because she did so much for us. I want—” He shook his head, then said darkly, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Anora’s eyes widened. Then, to his shock and horror, they filled with tears. She stepped back.

“Anora—” he started.

But she was already turning and hurrying away down the corridor.

Alistair sat in the palace garden, his face in his hands. He had hoped the fresh air would clear his head, but all he could think of was his conversation with Anora. Each time he replayed their altercation he felt worse.

How had he let things get so out of hand? He’d failed to control his temper, stuffed up a potentially useful alliance, and, what’s more, he’d hurt someone who was already hurting.

“I’m such an idiot,” he muttered, pressing his hands into his forehead.

Yes, Anora was frustrating, imperious and stuck-up, but she was also trying to help in her own way. And, different as they were, they had at least one thing in common.

She wants to preserve Cailan’s legacy, Alistair thought. Just like I want to preserve Rora’s.

He placed his hands on his lap, blinking in the sunlight and letting the breeze tickle his face, soft like his love’s hands had been. Images came to him of her warm brown eyes, the way she used to smile and tilt her head at him, encouraging. You’ll be a good king, she had said. I know it.

His heart ached.

I’m sorry, he thought. I need to be better.

At Eamon and Teagan’s suggestion, Alistair had arranged for Anora to have her own study and quarters in the palace, as a befitted a princess and heir. It was to her study that he went now.

He stopped outside the oak door, hand resting over the wood. He sighed. He was really not looking forward to this.

Gently, he knocked.

“An—Princess Anora?” He paused, then added, perhaps unnecessarily, “It’s Alistair.”

At first, there was no answer. Alistair waited for several moments. He was ready to give up on his plan (with some relief), when the door abruptly opened.

Alistair’s stomach lurched with guilt when he saw her. It was clear she’d been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had forgotten to wipe her nose. She crossed her arms and sniffed, “Yes. What is it?”

He crossed his own arms, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. “I—” he began. “Look. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have yelled, I wasn’t being fair and I-I think you’re right. I could use your help, if you’re still willing to give it.”

Instead of answering, Anora continued glaring at him. Unnerved, he took a step back.

“Anyway…” he said. “That was… all I wanted to say.”

He took another step back, about to turn and leave, when she spoke.

“I don’t actually think you’re out for yourself, you know,” she said. “I know you just want things to change and… that’s not a bad thing.” To his surprise, she smiled slightly. “Cailan was like that.”

Alistair waited for her to say more. She wrung her hands, eyes on the floor, then finally spoke again.

“I’ll help you,” she said. “But, what I said before still stands. You’re going to have to be patient about your reforms.”

“All right,” Alistair said, nodding.

“And you need to listen to me. I do know what I’m talking about.”

“I… I know you do.”

“Very well,” she said. She straightened again, chin held high, and turned to go back into her study.

Alistair, knowing this was as friendly as she was going to get for the time being, made to leave himself, but then—

“King Alistair.”

He turned, afraid that maybe she’d changed or mind, or wanted to scold him or something. But, to his surprise, she was smiling again, albeit stiffly.

“Thank you,” she said, “for giving me a chance.”

He nodded, and for the first time he grinned back. “It’s my pleasure, Princess Anora.”

#alistair appreciation week #day 2 #king alistair #major character death #alistair theirin #anora mac tir #past alistair x warden #my writing #good job alistair #now go apologize to teagan

[happywitch416]

I'm going to keep asking you: Josephine, idk if I asked about Sebastian or not but if not then it's happening now, Cullen, Sera, Alistair, and Cassandra. I already know your feelings on most but my dude, your opinion is so important to me and also your posts are hilarious.

Did a Seb!

Josephine

How I feel about this character

Josie is that elegant, well spoken lady I dreamed of growing up to be when I was a wee punk. She has mystery! A good heart! Golden. Ruffles. The noble eldest of her family, saving them from doom. I think its fair obvious I am heart eyes gaga over Josie. And she's a gossip! True story, my favorite kind of person. Tell me all the things. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Leliana and Josie is probs my favorite ship for Josie. Next would be the not romance with Blackwall. I don't think I have a specific Inquisitor romance for that i like. But imagining her with an ex carta dwarf lady makes my heart feel fluffy. Val may get a cousin.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Also Leliana, i love their friendship? How they pick on Cullen and Cassandra. You know the shopkeepers cry in terror and joy when they arrive. Like yes a sale but oh the standard they demand.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don't think I have one. Hm. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon 

I am actually good with her canon. A marriage would be nice in Trespasser. Oh that would be glorious. The flowers alone. 

Cullen

How I feel about this character

Cullen is. He is not my favorite normally. Fandom ruined him for me, #notsorry. Now. I do think he is a character with great potential. I also want that furry cloak thing. I need it.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I dont have specific ship but there are a couple, as in literally 2, specific pairings that I read. But its more because I love friends writing then because I am googly eyed over noodle head. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Therapy. He needs it. Do they have lyrium anonymous? That's what he needs.

My unpopular opinion about this character

That is not a redemption arc. He definitely becomes more selective with his mage distrust/hate. But he doesn't really change from his all mages can't be trusted stance. And the templars were poor mistreated puppies! Yeah no they problematic to bud.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Him interacting with now ex templars. Growth beyond the dogma and the addictions. It needed more. But kore isn't for boys who are pretty i guess 

Sera

How I feel about this character

Sera is a disaster and I love her. Sera is all of us who saw a qunari lady and also went woof. I like that she's nobody compared to most of your companions. She's a real people. Also eat the rich mentality is just yes. Throw them into the pit. And she brings the inquisitor in as a red jenny? Who else goes after this life, let's have another for you let's go. Her friendship is also so sweet? For all her friends, I don't think she gets friend friends until she's with the inquisition. Also, I totally get how she talks, train of thought is relatable. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Dagna!!!! They are just so damn cute. I am also partial to her and my Asa. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Iron Bull. Mayhem. I also love her and Blackwall. She gets him. He gets her. Dick jokes. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

She is perfect. And has a valid point. If there is a golden throne whats worse? An ass in it or it being empty? I also like that shes not an elfy elf. So many are doom gloom our lost cause. From like...over a thousand years ago. Can we grow pls

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I want to be a wingman on a Sera and Dagna date. Let me set up my explosions are for bonding lesbians. 

Alistair

How I feel about this character

I was too old for Alistair when I first met him. He's a child. Literally. He's like 19. Thats a baby adult, the boy who didn't want to be king. Also i found this lone blossoming rose amongst the dead things so i took it..for being chantry raised he is not very understanding of miracles. And you gift him dolls. Why did duncan go oh yeah i'll take this one to probably die young. Like why dude. He could have left the chantry with alistair and been like okay here's 100 gold and go that way. You have a good sword arm, become a guard somewhere. Instead of feed the child blood... I also really hate how he treats Morrigan. Wtf man. And yes, she is mean back but to say he was inappropriate when they first met would be an understatement. I'd be a bitch to him to.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

No ships. Oops.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Wynne, he needs a mother. So badly. He needs cookies and hugs and stories. He may not be a child by age, but definitely by maturity. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

Like. My whole ass opinion lol

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I want him and Leliana to discuss that rose lol but i want alistair to grow a spine. He doesn't want to be king. His uncle treated him like shit, tell him no? Walk out on that king deal? Like thats barring sparing loghain bc he does sorta grow a pair then but abandons his duty that supposedly means so much. Why couldn't he have been like nah Anora is the queen why should i take her spot? That i don't want? 

Cassandra

How I feel about this character

I like that Cass is so Cass. Okay. She will fucking punch you in the face but also reads smut. I have found my people. She tries to right her wrongs, and the orders. She is also willing to eat her own words. She believes in people and goodness. While also maybe stabbing people. But she is also so naive? She believes Varric. Honey. Sweetie. He's full of shit and your full of shit meter is broken.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

I don't really have a ship for Cass. Bear with me here, she is married to her work. She believes in it with every fiber in her soul. If she had to choose between romance and what she felt called to, what was right? She would let go of the romance. Which is supported by canon if you romance her and she becomes divine. Love only in glances. The world needs saving after all. And for cass it won't ever stop needing to be saved.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Cullen. She is a good influence on him, that he can do better if he tries, that he is better than he thinks. Also Dorian, their love of books would be a good start for a friendship. You know they read a lot of similar smut, especially if it's terrible. How else do you be mean to it.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I am angry she tried to murder my dwarf. We will go rounds lady. In her defense, I understand why she wanted to stove his head in lol and that's why I don't ship them. To antagonistic for me.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

I am pretty happy with her canon.

#the witch speaks

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

--

Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.��

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

--

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.  

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

~

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

~

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

~

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”  

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

--

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

~

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

~

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

~

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

~

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #cousland #f!cousland #rosslyn cousland #the falcon and the rose

[bxtgrl]

they put a noose around my neck and dared me to speak

the defining moments of the landsmeet. | ao3

//part of raindrops on the tongue, blood under the nails. some dialogue taken from game.

(First, I hesitate)

The night air is cool on her face, the sun having just set. The stars are shining and she can see the lights of Denerim in the distance. They’ll reach it by tomorrow and she tries to force down the lump that comes to her throat at the thought. In an effort to ease herself, she glances behind her to where she can see the flicker of their camp flame between some trees. The anxiety doesn’t release her, though, if anything its grip is tightened further and she lets out a shaky breath before she can stop herself.

She can feel Leliana’s gaze snap to her from where she sits next to her on the grassy hill. In an effort to avoid the other girl’s worry, she turns her focus back to the flower crown in her hands, putting in the final touches before adding it to the small pile between her and Leliana. Oriana had been the one to first teach her the craft, a way of wanting to bond, no doubt, with her new sister-in-law. It had worked, not taking long for Namera to consider the woman a sister in every way that counted. Now, she’s been teaching it to Leliana, a surprisingly quick learner. She likes to think Oriana would approve, that she would’ve quite liked Leliana and her quirky nature.

“You are troubled” Leliana speaks softly and Namera gives a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She wants to deny it, insist that they focus on something else of greater importance as she usually does. Her worries have been weighing on her, though, adding to the burdens she already carries. Besides, Leliana is one of those she has grown closest to within the group, the girl more a sister than a friend at this point. And if anyone would understand, or at least attempt to, it would be her.

“Eamon is determined to make Alistair king” she speaks hesitantly, not sure how to voice everything she’s feeling and everything she’s thinking.

Leliana’s brow furrows. “You disagree?”

She shakes her head, quickly, adamantly. “No, I think he could be a great king.” She can’t help the fondness that slips into her voice. “When he puts his mind to something, when he knows he’s doing right, that’s when he’s at his best. It’s just-” She pauses, bites her lip. It’s an entirely selfish thought. There’s so much more at stake than her own feelings. Things that are so much more important to this world than her relationship, but- “Where does that leave me?” She’d only just begun to find her place, plant her feet somewhere she could live with. The outcome of this Landsmeet threatens whatever shaky foundation she’d managed to lay down.

Leliana looks at her, head tilting and face soft. “I believe it will leave you wherever you want.”

She gives a soft, humorless laugh. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“And why not? You have gotten us this far, no? I doubt Ferelden politics will be your undoing.” Leliana gives her a sly look. “Besides, have you forgotten you promised to travel the world with me? You and Alistair can write. He takes too much of your time already, leaving barely any for me.”

Namera’s smile is more genuine this time, along with her quiet laugh. A comfortable silence falls upon them then. Eventually, she sighs, adjusting the crown of flowers on her head. “We should probably get back to camp. We’ve a long day ahead.” She hesitates, though, not quite wanting to leave this quiet, peaceful moment on the hill. “But first…” She fidgets with her hands, though she knows the request won’t be turned down. She’s made it multiple times, after all. “Can you tell me the story of Avelina again? Please?”

“Of course!” Leliana smiles, adjusts her own flower crown, and begins.

 (Then I open my mouth)

She’s frozen, has been since she heard the footfalls and turned to see who was approaching. Her hands are shaking and she’s nauseous. She’s going to be sick, she’s sure of it. She’s going to vomit out everything she is and everything she wants and everything she’ll ever be right onto the floor. She’ll lay it right there, at Howe’s feet, and then she’ll decapitate the bastard, right here and right now.

“Loghain, this is… an honor. That the regent would find time to greet me personally…” Eamon is polite as always and Namera wonders if he knows that she’s on fire, being torn inside and out. Alistair must, because she barely notices him send her a concerned look.  She can’t do anything to reassure him, though, because the man who slaughtered her family is standing right in front of her, mere feet away, within striking distance of her sword. She could eviscerate him right here and now, but she can’t because she shouldn’t. She knows politics well, so she certainly knows that murdering Loghain’s right hand man would not benefit them, or their cause, or Ferelden. It would only benefit her and that is simply not worth it.

Loghain and Eamon bicker, in the way politicians do with thinly veiled despise. She needs to speak, she knows. She keeps her eyes rooted to Loghain, hasn’t looked to Howe since he entered the room.

“If Anora rules, let her speak for herself.” Her voice comes out with more shake than she would like and she swallows, trying to clear her throat of the emotions constricting it.

Loghain’s attention snaps to her and she’s not surprised to find he doesn’t remember her from Ostagar—or perhaps, he pretends not to. They hadn’t interacted, she’d observed from the background. Still, under his sharp gaze, she finds her back straightening defiantly. “And who is this, Eamon? A new stray you picked up on the road? And here I thought it was only royal bastards you played the nursemaid to.”

She tilts her chin up, gaze defiant as she barely even hears Alistair’s grumble from behind her. For a moment, she’s unsure how to address herself. Before, she had always been Namera Cousland of Highever, daughter to the teyrn. That is not her identity any longer, though, and she hasn’t quite had the time to figure out a new one, but perhaps she had simply missed what’d been right in front of her. “I am Namera, of the Grey Wardens.”

Loghain leaves soon after, Eamon speaking as soon as the man and his party are gone. Eamon is barely finished with his sentence, though, when Namera speaks: “Howe killed my family. I can’t let him get away with it.”

And she won’t. She’ll kill him the very next day and she’ll stand straight with his blood splattered on her shield and drying on her amor. That weight is lifted while it’s replaced by another: who will she be, without that sole purpose of killing Howe?

 (And let out a scream)

“Why not simply marry Alistair? The best of both worlds.” The words are out before she can stop them and if she can reach and catch them from the air to take them back, she would. They’d been quick, blunt, a defense mechanism against all the sense that Anora is making. Maker, her parents had commented a few times on the Queen, how charming she was, how intelligent. She’d always respected her vicariously, through the assessments of her parents, but being in the same room with her and holding a conversation with such a vital disagreement between them is making her head throb with all the doubts being slammed into it.

She watches in quiet horror as Anora rolls the idea around, seeing the sense of it, because it does make sense. Anora has eyes, though, and has obviously noticed that she and Alistair are closer than most. Namera quickly and defensively tells her it is not her business and that it does not matter and that it is mere politics and she doesn’t know if she can come back from this.

 (Tell my love to run)

When Alistair finally joins her in their room that night, she is sitting on the bed, fiddling with a loose string of the quilt. He’s going on about Anora and his lack of trust for the Queen and she doesn’t know how to bring it up, but she has to, because things cannot be unsaid and sense cannot be unmade. “What would you say about marrying her?”

There’s a pause, a shift in the room that she can feel in her bones. He gawks at her, no doubt unable to believe he’d heard her right, before he shakes his head and speaks with clear shock. “Marry her? As in marriage? As in be her husband? You’ve spoken to her about this? You did, didn’t you?” He’s pacing now, running a hand through his hair and giving it a tug, as if he could pull the idea from his mind. She watches, silent, wishing she could sink into the bed and disappear. This is important, though, and she can’t ignore that. “You… why would you do that? What about us?”

She lets out a shaky breath, steels herself, and looks him in the eye. “I know. But this is important.” More important than them, which, while she knows to be a truth, somehow feels like the biggest lie she’s ever told.

He deflates and she persuades him the same way she had persuaded herself: it’s their best chance for peace. This is all of Ferelden they’re talking about. It’s bigger than them, literally and figuratively. She doesn’t want her own selfishness to get in the way of what’s best for the country, her country. Her parents, having survived a war, had instilled a patriotism in her, a willingness to sacrifice herself for the greater good of Ferelden and its people.

Silence engulfs them, neither sure what to say. Eventually, Alistair speaks, voice small and gaze elsewhere. “Do you trust her?”

She knows his opinion on this, that he does not trust Anora one bit. She thinks back to her earlier conversation with the woman and- “I want to.” But she can’t. It might be because of the calculated nature of Anora’s words. It might be so petty as to be because of her father. But she knows it’s just because she can’t. She hasn’t trusted anyone the same since her family fell at the hands of Howe. The only people she feels to be truly reliable are those she has been traveling with, that makeshift family of hers that has bled and fought alongside her. She has only a limited amount of trust left, she feels, and she does not want to put it in the hands of a woman she only just met with enough ambition to fill a country.

They stop talking. She doesn’t promise him anything for the future, no guarantee as to what would happen to their relationship should he marry Anora, and he doesn’t ask her for one. Instead, she takes his hand and draws him to the bed. They wrap themselves around each other and, if there’s one thing she now wants above all else, it’s to never let go.

But the morning comes and she has to.

 (And he does)

They’re outside the doors to the chamber, the Landsmeet waiting just beyond them. She’s coiled tightly, fingers twitching with the pressure she feels. She knows, no matter what the outcome, that nothing will be the same and there will be no going back from this. Her future’s hanging by a thread, swinging, and she doesn’t know what direction it will fall.

She stops right at the doors and turns to Alistair. He’s in Cailan’s golden armor and hers is freshly shined. They’re both looking respectable as ever and, behind the nervous shifting of his steps and the way his eyes glance about the room as if looking for a possible escape, she can see a king in him. Looking back, it’s been there since they met, and has only grown since. In his hands, she knows the country will be alright. He’ll stumble, she’s sure, but in the end he’ll do his best and learn and do what is right and that’s all she could ever ask for from a ruler.

She grabs a hold of his armor and brings him down, crashing her lips to his, because it’s nothing but the unknown lying behind those doors, but she knows this. She knows him and while she’s increasingly unsure of if she knows herself, she knows she loves him, no matter what, until the end. He kisses her back, greedily, and she can feel her own desperation reciprocated in his mouth. No matter the outcome of today, she thinks, knowing he loves her will be enough to give her the strength she needs.

 (Oh he does)

“Will you face me yourself, or have you a champion?” It should be Alistair’s fight, she knows. Loghain is responsible for Alistair’s greatest loss: the Wardens and Duncan. But there’s something about Loghain’s voice, the glint to his shrewd gaze, that reminds her of the men in her father’s guard who had always eyed her dubiously when she’d held her sword, doubted her when she’d asked for a spar, suggested she put her attention toward the kitchen and cleaning and the art of hosting as if she could not master all that and the art of battle.

“I’ll fight this duel myself.”

 (With me by his side)

A decision has to be made. Loghain’s lying dead in a pool of blood, but all eyes are on her and her breath is bated, as if just as anxious for her decision as everyone else is. She knows what she has to do, what words she has to say. She doesn’t want to. Maker, she’d rather throw herself at the Archdemon right now than make this decision. Her chest aches and she worries she might not be able to speak, but she has to. She has to, she has to, she has to. It’s for the best, how many times must she tell herself this? Ferelden comes before her. She needs to let go of the man she loves, but she’s lost so many, so many, and this is the one thing she wants to keep above all else.

 She’s young, seventeen, and surrounded by color and laughter. She’s hidden herself in the corner, watching the dancing. Her parents throw wondrous parties, always the talk of the nobility for weeks later. She’s always enjoyed them for the most part. She knows how to be gracious and polite and to make others smile. She can charm any noble that presents themselves to her and not compromise herself in the process. Well-

“I think I’ve lost track of every young suitor you’ve danced with.” She turns at the voice of her brother, Fergus approaching her with a fond smile and that teasing twinkle in his eyes. She grimaces at him, despite the relief that she feels at his presence, and returns her gaze to the dancefloor. Fergus positions himself beside her, glancing toward the dancers as well before returning his focus to her. “You could always tell them ‘no.’”

She scoffs, hides the unladylike sound behind her hand. “And ruin mother’s party, months in the planning, by starting a feud? You know as well as I do that some of them are no better than Orlesians with their politics.”

Fergus sighs, eyes kind, and she knows he’s about to present her with some of his brotherly wisdom. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with thinking of yourself on occasion.”

She eyes him dubiously. “That’s called ‘being selfish,’ Fergus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not always.” His eyes scan the room, land on Oriana, animatedly chatting up a noble. “One of these days, sister, you’re going to have to make a decision to put yourself first. It’s only healthy.”

“And the consequences of such a decision?”

He gives a hum, gaze steady on his wife. “Just might be worth it.”

She’s less sure now than ever. What a terrible, terrible moment to want to be selfish. But what even are her options? She cannot trust Anora alone, despite her clear capabilities. She can’t choose for Alistair to rule alone either. She doesn’t want him to carry that burden all by himself. She’s familiar with the weight of the world and she doesn’t wish it upon him. It makes complete sense for them to rule together, as she’d said, best of both worlds, but-

She’s younger, a small child, interrupting a story her mother is telling of a young maiden falling in love with a prince. “Mother, if I marry a prince, would I be a princess?”

Her mother smiles fondly. “Yes, my dear.”

“And when the prince is king, I would be a queen?”

Her mother is becoming amused. “That’s right.”

Namera pauses, thinks the fantasy over with a seriousness only children are capable of. “Would I be a good queen?”

Her mother’s face softens, eyes becoming thoughtful. She slides off her chair to sit opposite Namera on the floor. She runs a hand through the child’s golden locks, before tapping her chin to make sure their gazes connect. “Oh, my darling, with a heart like yours, you would be the best queen Thedas ever knew.”

 Her heart isn’t the same it had been when she was six. It’s scarred, chipped away at, but the center is still whole and warm and there, she likes to think. She likes to think, as well, that her new place in life is with the Grey Wardens, but, maybe, just maybe, there’s another place for her and Maker help her, she can see it, she really can.

She tilts her chin up, releases a quick prayer, and speaks clearly: “Alistair will be king, and I’ll rule beside him.”

#alistair theirin #female cousland #alistair romance #alistair x female warden #alistair x warden #female warden #dragon age #dragon age: origins #da #fanfiction #my ocs #rpg ocs #da ocs #namera cousland

[bhaalxbabe]

zevran: 3; alistair: 2, 4; wynne: 1, leliana: 1; sten: 1, 2, 5; oghren: 3, 4; morrigan: 2, 3, 5; loghain: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5; dog: 1

I love you Liz

Zevran:3. What did your Warden know of the Crows before meeting Zevran? What did they think of the Crows afterward?

Ailonwy didn’t know much about the Antivan Crows prior to meeting Zevran. She just knew them from some stories her mother had told her when she was little and she simply knew them as “assassins from Antiva”. After meeting Zevran she doesn’t like the crows, she thinks their organization of professional assassins are cool but uhm, Zevran and she are a thing, so can you guys go away ?? She did Ignacio’s tasks though

Alistair:2. Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?

It didn’t surprise her, when he told her he was the King’s bastard son, I mean see didn’t see it coming but neither did it really affect her. She simply replied “I can’t believe you’re a huge royal pain in the ass,” and the two both laughed about it but she never continued to bring it up in case it was a sensitive topic for him. 

4. How did your Warden respond to Alistair’s dislike of Loghain? Did they share Alistair’s sentiments or disagree?

She definitely knew where Alistair was coming from, she had huge respect for Duncan and considered him her like, shem Uncle, and she barely knew Cailan but she thought he was a nice fellow but she didn’t know much about his ruling expertise. Everytime he would bad mouth Loghain she would sit and listen and nod but never give her input. Her mother told her many stories of the Hero of River Dane so she actually grew up admiring the man and was very pleased when she was finally able to meet him. Instead of automatically thinking of Loghain as a traitor she instead tried to think of reasons why he would leave Ostagar.

Wynne:1. What did your Warden think of Wynne’s views on the Circle? Did they have different experiences regarding the Circle?

Ailonwy doesn’t agree with Wynne’s views on the Circle, she believes that the mages should be free but this is coming from being separated from her cousins who are mages. 

Leliana:1. What was your Warden’s position on the Chantry? Were they wary of Leliana due to their religious beliefs or lack thereof?

It’s funny because Ailonwy uses Andrastian curses like “oh Maker” but because her mother was Dalish she was taught to believe in Elven Gods and despite growing up in the mages. She wasn’t wary of Leliana though it didn’t matter to her that Leliana was like “THE MAKER SENT ME !” Ailonwy’s first thought was “Yes ! Another person to do camp chores !”

Sten:1. Had your Warden ever met a Qunari before Sten? What did they expect?

She hadn’t met a Qunari before Sten and her first reaction was like “MAKER YOU’RE TALL ?!!!” she had heard about Qunari before but seeing one for the first time was a bit shocking but then she got over it and was like “JOIN ME ON MY QUEST !

2. What did your Warden think of Sten’s beliefs that people’s roles are determined at birth? Did they agree?

She thought that as very interesting but definitely not something for her, after hearing all the tales her mother told her about being a bard it became something that she wanted to do. Growing up in the Alienage had been good but she got to the point where she didn’t want to be there anymore and that feeling intensified when her mother passed. She wanted to go out and see the world, hell, see the rest of Ferelden and she resigned herself that she would be stuck in the Alienage forever when her father had arranged her marriage. She felt bad that in Qunari culture they couldn’t decide their own roles but she didn’t mention her opinion

5. Was your Warden amused by Sten’s love of cookies? 

SHE WAS VERY AMUSED WITH STEN’S LOVE OF COOKIES !! Every time they stopped at a town they would check the bakeries to see if they had some and she would buy a good amount to last them until the next town. Whenever they had watch shifts together they would sit and eat cookies in comfortable silence

Oghren:3. What was the fate of Branka? If she was killed, was your Warden regretful? How did they act around Oghren afterwards?

Branka died, Ailonwy sided with Caridin and refused to let anyone else use the anvil. Ailonwy didn’t feel any regret - well, okay maybe a little but she barely knew Oghren and she sure as hell didn’t know Branka so it wasn’t like a hard choice for her to kill Branka so the anvil wouldn’t be used. She apologized but it was def along the lines of “sorry ur wife didn’t make good choices :l”  but then she continued with “you deserve better !!!!” so LOL

4. What was the relationship between your Warden and Oghren? Were they friendly or merely reluctant companions?

THEY’RE LIKE TIGHT BFFLS !! Her, Oghren, and Zevran are basically the trio of bad inappropriate lewd jokes and everyone else hardcore hates them for it because one of them will make a joke and the other two will go off on it and it’ll continue for like ten minutes and Maker save whomever becomes the unlucky butt of their jokes it’s Loghain

Morrigan:2. Did your Warden agree to help Morrigan kill Flemeth? Why or why not?

Of course !! As much as Morrigan doesn’t want to admit it, she and Ailonwy are friends and the moment Morrigan was like “I need you to-” she was basically already on it like she was actually already in the Korcari Wilds fighting Flemeth

3. How close was your Warden to Morrigan? Did your Warden respect her abilities as a witch of the wilds?

They were close !! Ailonwy considered her one of her close friends and despite Morrigan’s initial cold attitude it didn’t deter Ailonwy from wanting to be her friend. She was really impressed by how powerful and how much Morrigan knew and thought it was really amazing that she was able to live and thrive in the Korcari Wilds all her life because Ailonwy’s one trek through it was awful

5. Was Morrigan’s ritual completed? What persuaded your Warden to go through with it or what caused them to refuse it?

She was really surprised when Morrigan asked her to go talk to Loghain to help save them

“I didn’t know sleeping with Loghain was such a big trend now ?”“What?”“What?” 

She told Ailonwy that she and Loghain had to sleep together and produce a child and Ailonwy basically asked her if she could be the one and when Morrigan told her no with a look of disgust Ailonwy sighed and agreed to ask him. It was definitely the better alternative to either her or Loghain dying but she had even decided beforehand that if Riordan were to fail she was going to take the final blow ((she was gonna fight Riordan for the rights to the final blow and Riordan was basically like HUSH U FREAKIN ELF IM DOING IT LOL))

Loghain 1. Did your Warden respect Loghain’s experience as a warrior, if not as a ruler?

She respected Loghain’s experience as freaking everything LOL because her mother idolized him so much she ended up idolizing him as well and completely respected his skills on the battlefield (in court thoughhhhhhh ehhhhhh maybe he could use some help in that aspect LOL)

2. How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

She thought it was very endearing !! Especially because at first glance Loghain definitely doesn’t seem like the good fatherly type so seeing and hearing him care so much about Anora was really cute. She also has so much love for her own family and it’s nice seeing someone else with the same values

3. What did your Warden think of Loghain’s suspicion and dislike of Orlesians? Did they consider it to be ill-founded or accurate?

She definitely knew where Loghain was coming from and she didn’t blame him, but also she was like @Loghain you wont even let me get nice Orlesian tents for us stop this it’s been like 30 years bruh FERELDEN’S NICE AND ALL BUT IT AINT GONNA SHELTER US FROM THE RAIN ((and Loghain would def rather sleep in the rain than under the cover of an Orlesian tent)) 

4. What was your Warden’s opinion on Loghain’s decision to abandon King Cailan and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar? What did they think of Loghain afterwards?

Ailonwy didn’t really know Cailan or how he ruled so she wasn’t too too upset about his death. She did however, think that he deserved a better fate than to be strung up by the darkspawn at Ostagar and ignored the complaints of Loghain, Morrigan, and Zevran who all pretty much agreed to just toss his body over the bridge. As I mentioned earlier she tried thinking of reasons why Loghain would abandon them and there was times where she was really upset about it. However, when she confronted him about it he did really make a good point about how was it truly his fault just because he survived and Cailan didn’t and Loghain did tell Cailan to not charge in the front with the Grey Wardens and even if the army stayed behind it wasn’t guaranteed that they would have succeeded and then she responded with “but…I trusted you, we trusted you” “Well that was your own fault” “>:(” but then she drops it because if she kept that grudge it would have taken them nowhere

5. Did Loghain survive the Landsmeet? If he did, why did your Warden choose to let him live?

He did !! Ailonwy was about to kill him but then Rior“Change of Plans”dan decided to cut in and ruin everything. When he suggested to make Loghain a Grey Warden she did think that was a pretty good idea and she knew how useful he would be in battle so she agreed 

#IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO FINISH THIS OOPS LOL #thanks Liz !! :') #Ailonwy Tabris #dao #asks #fairybrose

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 78

Taste Tested

Summary: In which Ephemer uses some dirty tactics to steal a taste of Anora and Skuld’s pies. Word Count: 1,568 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Skuld was apparently a lot stronger than she looked. Anora could only watch as the 17 year old quite easily pushed the 16 year old Ephemer out of the home economics kitchen. The boy's feet quickly skid across the floor, despite Ephemer trying his hardest to give some resistance against the linoleum.

“Get out my kitchen!” Skuld demanded without so much a hint of sympathy. “No one wants you here!”

“Technically,” Ephemer argued, giving a small click of his tongue, “It's not yours. It's for home ec.”

Skuld grunted as she worked to push Ephemer's feet over the metal transition strip at the doorway. “You know full and darn well what I mean,” she huffed. “So get out!”

With one last shove, Ephemer let out a yelp in surprise as Skuld succeeded in tripping him over the doorway and out into the hall. Skuld gave him a satisfied snort before shutting the door in his face.

“Now with him out of the way,” she triumphantly declared, brushing her hands off and giving a quick nod. “We can finally get down to business.”

Anora, who was still stunned at Skuld's strength, only gave a short nod of agreement. The older student didn't seem to notice as she started to put on an apron, and pulled her hair back into a loose bun.

“We'll work so much faster without that mooch around.” Skuld went on to say, more to herself than Anora proper. “We've got a bake sale this Saturday, and these pies aren't going to bake themselves.”

The younger student, who had started to put on her own apron, paused for a moment. She looked up at Skuld with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. The older happened to catch it out of the corner of her eye.

“Don't give me that look.” she told Anora with certainty. “I help with every bake sale. I'm practically the sole contributor.”

Anora's distrusting glare did not let up. In the back of her mind, Skuld made note to never be in a position to easily be guilt-tripped by Anora. That stare was rather powerful under the right conditions.

“I'm not working alone.” Skuld then tried to assure her. “That's why you're here. Having Ephemer out of the picture also helps by, like, a lot. Trust me on this. We've got this.”

With that being said, Skuld tossed Anora a hair net and the two started to get to work. Skuld has assigned Anora to pie filling duty while Skuld herself worked on the crust. The duo worked rather well together, making neat time in making a batch of apple pies that were soon placed in the oven. After Skuld had set the timer, she flipped to a new pie recipe in her cookbook and the girls started all over again. Anora was still working on the filling when Skuld finished placing the crust in the pie tins. Out of interest, the older student went through her cookbook to find the next pie recipe.

“I've got to go back to my dorm to get my other cookbook.” Skuld announced, rather calmly, to Anora. “While I'm gone, I need you to do three things for me.”

Anora, who was carefully placing the sweet potato mixture in the waiting pie crusts, looking up at Skuld and gave a nod.

“One,” Skuld told her, flicking up her index finger. “The first round of pies should be done in about another five minutes. Turn the oven off, but don't pull them out yet. I want to check them when I get back.”

Anora made a tentative look at the oven before turning her attention back to Skuld. She nodded, showing that she understood and was ready for Skuld to continue.

“Two,” Skuld went on, bringing up another finger, “Feel free to start the filling for the next round of pies. The recipe book should still be open to that page.”

That was something Anora figured she would do anyway. It was mentioned earlier that they were going to make apple, sweet potato, pumpkin, and chocolate pies today. She was already pouring the sweet potato filling into the pie crusts anyway. Starting work on the pumpkin pie filling would have been a snap.

“Three, and above all,” Skuld finished, putting up one last finger, “Do not let Ephemer get an early taste. He knows he's not allowed to, and he knows the consequences if he does. I trust that you have the willpower to shoo him in my absence?”

Considering she hadn't seen Ephemer since Skuld first kicked him out, Anora gave the older student a confident nod in agreement.

“Good.” Skuld nodded. “I'll be back quickly.”

Once more, the younger of the two nodded and even gave a little wave as Skuld left. Anora continued to pour the filling into the pies, then washed the dishes off so she could use them for the next round of pies. Her concentration now spent on getting the pumpkin pie filling right, she didn't even notice that she was being watched.

Ephemer had been waiting for this moment. In fact, he had formulated a plan so perfect that it was nearly fool proof. It was such an incredibly simple plan too! All he had to do was softly walk up behind Anora, and calmly say to her;

“Hey Anora. What'cha making there?”

Anora let out a sharp gasp in surprise as she stumbled backwards, and right into Ephemer's arms. He laughed as he held her around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“It's pumpkin, right?” he then mused. “Can I have a taste?”

“Skuld said you can't.”

Ephemer smirked. His moved his lips a bit closer to her ear to whisper, “But Skuld's not here.” in a devious voice. It sent a shiver up Anora's spine that elicited a tiny whimper from her. A small flicker of fear crossed her mind for a moment; is this what Ephemer was like when he really turned his charm on? She wasn't ready for this. Skuld should have warned her about this!

“Come on Anora,” he went on, one hand starting to reach for her bowl and the other trailing a bit lower down her midsection, “Just one little taste won't hurt...”

“Oh no you don't!” Skuld's voice demanded before Skuld herself gently hit Ephemer on the head with a rolling pin. “Get your hands off my assistant, or I'll report you to the headmasters for harassment!”

Ephemer gave a bemused snort before taking quite a few generous steps back from Anora. He turned to Skuld with a wide grin and said, “Well I hope you don't go to Gula- he'll want pictures.”

“As if one look on poor Anora's face isn't enough proof that you're ridiculous.”

Released from Ephemer's grasp, Anora quickly tried to return to working on the pie filling. Her face was flushing a deep scarlet as Skuld and Ephemer continued to chew eat other out.

“Just look at her, Ephemer!” Skuld huffed. “Poor girl's so embarrassed she can barely stir straight.”

“Skuld, I hate to break it to you, but that isn't from embarrassment. I'd know. That's the face she makes when she's really-”

“Zip it! I don't need to know!”

“You started it.”

“And now I'm ending it.”

“Skuld, where's the next round of pie crusts?” Anora quickly squeaked, hoping to change the subject. It succeeded in distracting the two friends- they both turned to her as if they had forgotten she had been standing here. Skuld blinked for a moment before it hit her. She then went back to baking without a second thought. With Ephemer off the hook, he gave Anora a faint smirk before jumping onto the counter she was working at. His girlfriend tried very hard not to look at him- still embarrassed from his previous manhandling of her.

“The Dandelions are having a Halloween party amongst ourselves.” Ephemer said to Anora. His feet gently kicking against the side of the counter. “Since it's on Saturday, would you like to be my date?”

Anora tilted her head a bit as she thought it over. Just the Dandelions? Which meant Ephemer, Skuld, Ventus, Brain, and Lauriam were going to be there. She knew them. She felt comfortable around them. She wondered if Strelitzia was going to be there too.

“I'd like that.” Anora softly admitted. “But I don't have a costume.”

“We can go search for one this weekend.” Ephemer offered. “Maybe not this Saturday 'cuz of the bake sale (because someone won't let me have any taste tests!), but I'm totally free on Sunday.”

A gentle smile crossed Anora's lips before she gave an agreeing nod. The young man relaxed a bit at seeing it. He'd do anything to protect that little smile of hers, even if it killed him inside.

“Now,” Ephemer bemused as he reached for Anora's bowl again, “About that little taste test...”

“No!” Skuld shouted from across the kitchen, tossing a measuring spoon at his face. From the impact, and the surprise amount of wallop that little spoon had, Ephemer fell off the counter and ungracefully landed on the floor. Anora didn't even bother to hold back her light laughter.

“Not a word, dream girl.” Ephemer hissed at her as he tried to stand back up. “Not a single word.”

She never did, but she did openly laugh at his expense. It only seemed fair, after all.

#daybreak academy #chapter 78 #kingdom hearts fanfiction #Skuld #Ephemer #Anora #Fall 2020 #Season 2