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#anora mac tir x cousland

ziskandra · 1 year

Note

No-pressure writing ask: what's a line or a scene you've written that you still think about because it makes you happy?

‘Happy’ isn’t my usual writing forte, but when I sat down to think for something that actually elicited some of that vibe instead of just like, a passage I was particularly proud of…

… and I immediately thought of this scene near the end of To Find a Cure, an Anora/f!Cousland epistolary fic I wrote a few years ago which takes place during the events of Inquisition!

A flash of hot panic runs through Elissa’s belly. Her hands shift to grasp Anora’s shoulders. “Anora. Anora. Listen to me.”

Anora stares back at Elissa, intently hanging onto her every word. Is this really it? Their final goodbye? There are no words that can truly capture the magnitude of the moment.

Elissa wets her lips. “Anora. When I die…” She takes a deep ragged breath, stopping short. She’d never actually confronted her inevitable death before, like it was something that was absolutely going to happen instead of something she was desperate to prevent.

She’d never been the type for wills or testimonies or succession planning. That had been her wife’s forte. She doesn’t know what to say.

She goes with her gut.

“When I die,” she finally continues, blood roaring in her ears, “I don’t want another fucking statue.”

Cauthrien laughs before Anora even has a chance to process what Elissa's said. There's a moment where they're all laughing, the three of them, and even Dog seems to be joining in.

#my endings are usually more bitter than sweet so I like how this fic is more sweet than bitter!!#elissa and anora are in LOVE!!!#anyway #anora mac tir x cousland #anora mac tir #asha answers #thank you for the fun ask friend! it gave me a good opportunity to reflect on my preferred writing beats #mxanigel

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mxanigel · 1 year

Text

after the Battle of Denerim

A bit beyond six sentences for this particular Sunday~ ^_^

Queen Anora Mac Tir learns of the Archdemon's fall and her father's death. Features forced-betrothal awkwardness with Alistair and a vulnerable moment with Heather Cousland.

-----

“My queen, I bring news regarding the fight against the Archdemon.”

The messenger’s hunched posture and inability to meet Anora’s eyes convey more than enough, but she must hear the truth from the woman’s lips. “Report.”

“The burst of light we saw did mark the creature’s death. The Blight is over.”

Over, at long last. But at what cost? “Who survived?”

“Most forces led into battle by Warden Surana remain with us, though many soldiers are injured.”

It is still strange to hear others refer to that mage as a commander. “What of the Wardens themselves?”

“Warden Riordan was killed mid-battle. Warden Surana yet lives. But Teyrn— Warden Mac Tir…”

Her heart twists. Her throat clenches. Her emotions do not—cannot show on her face. “I said, report.”

The messenger gulps. “According to Warden Surana, Warden Mac Tir died while delivering the final blow that killed the Archdemon.”

Surana did not claim the credit. Anora sets aside that detail for later consideration. “So it is defeated.”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“By my father’s hand.”

“That is what I was told.”

Then he fell protecting the country he loved. A mixture of grief and relief she will not reveal builds pressure behind her eyes. “Thank you for the report. Ensure what we know is recorded. Once Denerim recovers, we will celebrate this victory.”

“Yes, my queen.” The messenger hesitates.

Anora narrows her eyes. “You are dismissed.”

The woman bows and flees the room.

There is much to be done—Denerim still burns, soldiers and civilians alike are injured, and even the healthy will require rations, shelter, a place to sleep. Anora is not so naive as to believe that no hostiles remain within the city walls simply because the Archdemon was slain. And she did not spend nearly every waking moment ruling this nation in Cailan’s absence and after his death to watch it fall apart now.

Hour after hour passes. Only her steward’s intervention ensures she eats meals at reasonable times. It’s long past sunset when a gentle tap on her elbow startles her out of her focus. She glances up to find Alistair’s face creased with concern. “You should rest.”

“Later.”

He grips her shoulder. “I don’t think you’ll enjoy me being the one to remind you of your duty to our people.”

Anora shakes off his grasp. “I accept your point. I will retire for the evening.”

“I’m not sure right now still counts as ‘evening,’ Anora.”

A realization of weariness unexpectedly doubles the weight of her limbs. “I will retire for the night. Alone.”

He exhales and steps back, his hands raised in defense. “We aren’t married yet. I wasn’t going to ask.”

She blames exhaustion for her words, her tone. Exhaustion and repressed sorrow. “Thank you, Alistair. For checking on me.”

He blinks. “Of course I checked on you. And… you’re welcome.”

Anora nods once in acknowledgment. Then she pushes herself away from the desk and wraps herself in a veneer of weary calm en route to her chamber, offering tired greetings and words of thanks to those she meets along the way. But once she closes the door behind her, she slumps backward against it and sliding down to the floor, burying her head in her arms. Yet tears do not fall.

“I knew you wouldn’t relax until you were back here.”

Anora bolts upright, grabbing the nearby bronze candlestick—not much of a weapon, but it is preferable to empty hands. Then her alarm eases enough to recognize the woman seated on her bed. “Maker take you, Heather. When did you sneak into my room?”

Heather Cousland yawns while languidly stretching her arms above her head. “Some time ago. You kept me waiting.”

Anora opens her mouth to protest the absurd claim and then decides against it. Heather is goading her into a retort. “I asked you to support civilians in finding shelter. Why are you here?”

“Because after I heard about your father, I needed to be at your side.”

Admitting her selfishness instead of declaring she did this for my sake is unlike her. Moisture stings Anora’s eyes. “What game are you playing?”

Heather quickly crosses the space between them to grasp her hands. “No game, Anora. You’re hurting, no matter how well you hide it. When you hurt, I hurt. If you don’t want me here, say the word, and I’ll leave. But if there’s anything I can do to support you, name it, and it’s yours.”

Anora stands perfectly still as a battle rages in her mind. She must maintain her own strength. Any cracks will only confirm the belief that she should not be queen. Despite Surana’s surprising machinations, her betrothal to Alistair—and thus her position—is not set in stone, and she will not provide Arl Eamon further reason to argue against it.

But Heather’s gentle, earnest gaze overpowers her weakening defenses. She collapses into her arms, finally releasing her grief.

#dragon age fanfic #queen anora mac tir #heather cousland #cousland x anora #female cousland x anora #I run to these two when I need f/f feels

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alistairsprayerwarrior · 9 months

Text

Listen Before I Go

"It was a love match, you know."

Sereda hesitated as she snatched the handle to Anora's temporary chambers. She'd heard enough of the woman's insistence on being queen, especially her implications with regard to Alistair.

"...What are you talking about?" Sereda asked, humoring her. It had been years since she'd spoken of Cailan, and her last meeting with him was bittersweet, just before his death.

Anora casually ran her fingers along the wood of her sleighbed as she spoke, knowing she'd struck a chord. It was unnerving how well Anora sensed it. "Don't insult my intelligence, Lady Cousland. You know full well as to what I am referring," she said.

She dropped her hand, defeated. All Sereda knew about Cailian ending their brief courtship was his 'duty to the throne'; after his father went missing, and marrying Anora as a result. He never fully explained why, just that he was to do as he was bid - and nothing more. It vexed her for years until she was able to push it into the deep recesses of her heart.

And now the woman who claimed him had the audacity to mention him.

"...Fine, I'll bite," Sereda said softly, still avoiding the woman's hard gaze. Yet, she continued to speak so casually of Cailian, the man she had wed, her dead husband.

"I found him, once..." Anora paused, as if considering her next words. Unbeknownst to Sereda, she was opening her own wounds. Perhaps, she hoped, if she reached out to the Warden, heart to heart, woman to woman, she could convince her that she would be the proper ruler that Ferelden needed, and not the bastard that she was so utterly in love with.

Oh, the irony of it all.

"He was asleep in our bed, from a night of drinking," she scoffed bitterly. "It was supposed to be a night of celebration. I was pregnant, with his first child. He was so happy. The kingdom, was happy..."

Sereda recalled the gossip and rumors, the stories from her mother and father of the announcement. She still remembered how bitter she felt, but did her damnedest to ignore it all the same. Sereda fought to urge to ask her to get to the point.

"He fell asleep, with some missive in his hand, close to his chest. I thought he was in the middle of some last-minute paperwork, some notice. My curiosity got the better of me," Anora had been slowly pacing about the room, consoling her own growing anxiety from the memory.

"It was one of your many letters, from what I learned later on. I knew you both had corresponded in the past, that he once courted you. I accepted that. 'Twas the nature of men and their politics," she paused, her tone changing into something soft; vulnerable.

"But, this letter... it was different. It was worn, unlike the others. As if he'd read it on many ocassion. I knew I'd regret reading it, but I did it anyway. I... I had to know. I had to know what you had that I didn't..."

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deviousspleen · 2 years

Text

Dragon Age: Origins (confession)

Okay so I recently started to play DAO again. I havent touch the game for like... 4 or 5 years and I have to admit, I am conflicted of how I am playing rn. I used to have a perfect state of world as in :

Cousland daughter

side with the mages

side with the elves

side with Harrowmont

romancing Alistair - hardening him - making him a King with the Warden

I mostly kept the originals points in my current game, but the last one... The last one is problematic to me. You see, I decided to play the Cousland at the point "We are Cousland, we do our duty first"... And the Landsmeet is different from what I did. So the Cousland are a noble family that do what needs to be done, including your duty before your love. So as a Cousland, Elissa decided to think about Ferelden first. That is possibly one of the most angsty thing ever for my heart. Alistair is ready to be king but he lacks of perspective. As a warden with the taint in his blood, he has at least 20 years to live, hence him leaving probably until his 40s. After that, Ferelden will have (that's for sure), a crisis of succession. Anora canon told my warden "Cailan had his women"... Bastards ? The point is that I believe Alistair would make a fine king but to have this state of the world a bit... successful, he needs a wife. And yes. Anora. Anora ruled Ferelden. She is untainted by the joining unlike Cousland, she is clever, she knows the way of politics when Alistair's blood is what makes his claim stronger. Tradition and stability, that's what Ferelden needs. Even if there is a small chance Alistair and Anora could have a child, this is a big bet that would secure 20 years of stability and possibly more ! So...

Cousland daughter

side with the mages

side with the elves

side with Harrowmont

romancing Alistair - hardening him - making him a King with Anora and retiring the Warden looks like the better option... (because in time, I learned as a woman to like Anora!)

#dao #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #alistair x cousland #king alistair #queen anora #anora mac tir #warden cousland

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 2 years

Note

For the DADWC: “You’re always on my mind.”

Thanks for the prompt! @dadrunkwriting

Rhiona Cousland x Loghain Mac Tir

-:- -:- -:- -:-

He's surveying the city from the palace battlements when he receives the letter, worn in the corners and the address almost smudged off the front of the envelope. Loghain shoves it beneath the neck of his chainmail shirt, hidden and protected by his armor. It slips his mind as he works, watching busy people in the market square, the Chantry sisters outside their cloister walls. Ser Cauthrien watches his back with a list to check off. Together they assess the defenses of the city, of the palace. Having seen the darkspawn at Ostagar, he knows they can ill afford to be caught unawares.

The letter sits against his breastbone for the day. He only sees it when it falls out of his shirt when he settles at his desk for the evening's work in the late hours of the night. With a frown, Loghain picks it up to read the envelope's stained face. The script is steady, familiar, though he can't quite place it despite his running through recent memories. The letter itself looks like it was stomped by a bronto into a mud pit on its way to him. Sure enough, he can make out his name. With a sigh, he slides his fingers beneath the seal and earns himself a fine papercut along his index finger.

Loghain, it read--

You sound so different now. It's hardly believable, to hear it all throughout the countryside. I can't help but wonder: is there any of the old you to hang onto, to remember you by?

I can't help but think of you. You're in so many of my thoughts. It's hard to bear, knowing what you've done, or perhaps have let happen. I hope it is ignorance that has prevailed, and not malice. I don't remember you being malicious--may it be that you are not.

Everything in me wants to storm Denerim and see you myself, to rage against your actions since Ostagar. You do not understand, Loghain: you need more than your soldiers to protect us. The darkspawn destroy all they touch. They roam the bannorn and consume everything in front of them. We cannot afford for Denerim to fall. You know this, I know.

Please, lift the bounty on us. Let us do our work unheeded, so that we may bring to Denerim an army to help protect our homes. To protect our queen, and our Landsmeet. To meet your soldiers as allies, not enemies. We need to do our work. Please, Loghain, do the right thing and let us work to end the Blight together.

I would say I'm still yours, but I have my doubts--I don't know how I can be yours after all this.

There are water stains amongst the pages, small droplets that warp the paper into very slight waves. The letter is unsigned, but Loghain knows by the pit in his stomach that she had sent it. Rhiona doesn't understand: the bounty is for her protection, not anything else. He needs her where he can see her, touch her. The bounty on any remaining Wardens was his attempts to find her.

But she's alive. Some unknown breath he's been holding for the long months since the massacre at Ostagar releases at the way her strong script marches along the discolored pages. Rhiona is alive, and obviously well enough to send a letter to him. Where was she when she'd sent it? Where is she now? The not knowing is a painful clenching in his chest.

He misses her. Maker, he misses her, far more than he'd ever thought. To him, she had died at Ostagar. He hadn't had time to mourn her, only having had scouts sent off to Castle Cousland for reconnaissance, but now the tears fall, slowly, one by one.

I don't know how I can be yours after all this, she wrote. A nail in his coffin. It cuts him to the core. How had he fallen so deeply for this young woman, that a single sentence can shake him so badly? They had only courted for a year and a half before the engagement notices were sent out.

Things are quickly spinning out of control. Civil war stands on his doorstep, no matter how much he tries to stem it. Anora is nowhere to be seen, mourning in private. The Landsmeet is restless and vocal in their opinions on his actions, but they have no idea of what he's dealing with in the fallout of Cailan's death. Howe has grown increasingly demanding of his time and attention, regardless of how little Loghain himself wants to see him.

But Rhiona is alive and, he hopes, well.

Loghain sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the furrow there. He puts the letter away in his desk, in the left-hand drawer for important correspondence. There is no use in tears. He has work to do.

#da drunk writing circle #loghain mac tir #rhiona cousland #cousland/loghain mac tir #cousland x loghain mac tir #series: traitorous hearts #ocean writes #dragon age: origins #dao

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laurelsofhighever · 3 years

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Alistair x Cousland, slow burn

Excerpt:

This letter has been folded and unfolded dozens of times over so that some words are barely legible, the corners ripped as if it has once or twice been shoved hastily into a pocket to keep it hidden.

Anora,

I must have started this letter a dozen times, and each time I scratch out my clumsy sentences all I can think about is how much better than me you are at this sort of thing. The easy charm with which I am credited in person falls flat when it comes to the written word – when it comes, my Dove, to you.

I miss you. There is no other way to say it. I miss hearing your laugh and holding you while you sleep. I even miss those long, tedious mornings in petty court where one problem comes after another and it seems we may never get a moment’s peace for ourselves. Your sound judgement and quiet warmth is sorely lamented on these cold winter nights, spent in exile from the one whose presence is dearer to me than sunlight to the first blushing petals of spring. This matter that has risen up between us has stained everything, not just our own lives but the whole of Ferelden, and it galls me to know that what should be private is, as ever, bared for the whole world to see. That pressure has always been with us, and harder on you, I know, with those busybodies and gossips discussing our affairs as if we were nothing more than horses put out to stud; and now the issue of an heir has once again come between us, but not for the reasons of which your father has accused me. I freely own to my mistakes; those times when the pressures of ruling became too much, when we could not find a way to talk and I sought comfort elsewhere; they were unworthy of you, but I cannot let it happen now. In this, at least, I may prove a proper husband.

It is true that there has been communication between myself and Her Imperial Majesty Empress Celene of Orlais, but not on the subject your father fears; never once have I contemplated jilting you for another, and certainly not in favour of someone so connected to the Great Game, our sworn enemy of but a generation ago. I cannot speak of Her Radiance’s motives, but on my part it was a fostering of a trade agreement only, to make Ferelden seem more profitable as an ally than as a conquered province. Our fathers fought for this country in their own way, and now I must do no less, even if there happens to be less open bloodshed on this battlefield. I should have told you, my Dove, and my only excuse for not doing so is that I feared what would happen should your father find out.

Tell me that you, too, appreciate the irony of the result.

As for the other matter, that of my uncle’s letter, I did not tell you because I wanted to spare you. When our match was suggested, I agreed. At the time, though I did already admire you greatly, I thought it would be nothing more than a political union, designed to unite Ferelden in a time of uncertainty. King Maric’s loss was greatly felt by the people, and by all who followed his leadership, and I will always be grateful to your father for the advice he offered me during those weeks, when all I could feel was my own unreadiness to rule and every day was nothing more than a reminder that the man to whom I had always looked for guidance was no longer there. But it is not for a King to feel such things, and so for the sake of the future, I accepted his offer. It helped that we had grown up together, knowing the match was subtly intended all along, but I never expected how deeply I would come to feel for you. That I would come to love you as if you were part of my own flesh. You have always been the better part of me, and I would spare you any pain in the world, including this. My uncle’s attempts at persuasion were reprehensible, but I beg you to believe me when I say he has learned a hard lesson about repeating them.

By now you will know I say these things not only as a foolish husband, but as a King hoping to hold his country together before all we have worked for is lost. Dear Heart, darling Wife, you always were clever. Your father listens to nobody but you. Convince him of my words, of my sincerity, and we may yet avert this disaster before it can truly gain a foothold. Do not allow fear and the threat of war to undo the peace that has allowed Ferelden to prosper these past thirty years. Many of my advisors gave up hope of a diplomatic solution when the ravens brought news of the golden Drake flying over the corpses of travellers in Gherlen’s Pass, but they lack the faith in you that I possess.

Please, Anora. If not for me but for the sake of all the lives that will be lost in this war, I beg you to sway your father’s resolve and stop this madness before it can begin. The people love you, and so do I, and it is my hope you will let that be a guiding light towards resolution.

I pray by Andraste’s Grace that this letter will reach you, and that it will not be intercepted by those whose desire for power would see Ferelden fall.

I remain, as ever, Your willing, devoted servant,

Cailan Theirin

In my own hand, 9:31 ~ 6th Wintermarch

#reposting for the new year #dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #da:o #alistair x cousland #alistair x warden #alistair theirin #king alistair #cousland #f!cousland #cailan theirin #king cailan #queen anora #anora mac tir

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ziskandra · 2 years

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I received two extremely delightful gifts in the The Black Emporium exchange for Dragon Age rarepairs, and they have just tossed me right back into the depths of my Mac Tir feelings!

So Tangled Up Its Hard to Know (Loghain/Female Cousland) Set during the Inquisition era! I just love the intimacy of two old comrades reconnecting and it leading into something more 💖

open your heart like the gates of hell (Anora/Morrigan) Morrigan and Kieran end up living at the royal palace after Morrigan becomes Anora’s arcane advisor, and there is PINING and COMPLICATIONS in regards to Kieran’s parentage 👁

Looking forward to reading more of the collection and collating more recs over this coming weekend!

#dragon age #loghain mac tir #female cousland #anora mac tir #morrigan dragon age #morrigan #warden #cousland x loghain #warden x loghain #anora mac tir x morrigan #fic recs #asha reads

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saint-jimmys · 3 years

Text

Blushing

Day 5 of @14daysdalovers (●´ω｀●)

Word Count: 767

Pairing: M!Cousland x Anora

Summary: Anora prepares for the return of her husband, the Prince-Consort.

Available on AO3!

Anora rarely blushed. Blushing implied that she was easily embarrassed, easily flustered, but that was not at all true.

Still, as with everything, there were exceptions to this. Hadrian Cousland, the Prince-Consort, was one such exception. Anora would have never dreamed that in her union with the Hero of Ferelden she would find an equal in all ways; one who supported her every step of the way and in turn carried his own weight in their ruling of the nation. Hadrian’s passion for his country and countrymen only rivaled her own, and by putting their minds together in the years since the Blight, they had successfully ushered in a golden age for their beloved Ferelden. Trade was on the rise, the royal coffers were replenishing, and harvests were plentiful. Their people were slowly yet surely recovering--a testament not just to the competence of their rulers, but the grit and determination of the Ferelden people.

In essence, Hadrian had become her confidant and most trusted advisor. And only he could truly elicit the rare blush in her.

She would’ve been content, of course, if the benefits to their union had ended at political convenience. Anora had asked for nothing more from him. In this, however, she ended up pleasantly surprised. What began as a union of advantages and shared views for the prosperity of Ferelden blossomed into something more. And that something had her happier than she had felt in ages.

This evening there was to be a gathering celebrating the return of her dear husband from a months long excursion with the Grey Wardens. His position as Warden Commander of Ferelden required his presence just as much as his royal role, after all. She had spent weeks preparing as a result, consulting with many servants and caterers alike so that all would proceed smoothly. She wanted it to be the perfect respite for him after all she had learned. His letters to her had described some true horrors, and others that he had yet to reveal. She would be lying if she claimed she hadn’t grown anxious for his safe return, for his sake, the country’s, and her own rather selfish one. Luckily, he was set to return to her and she wanted to see him before the gathering began, to steal some precious moments with him once he arrived.

Anora waited for him in their bedroom once she heard word of his arrival, sitting on their bed with her hands folded in her lap. It wasn’t long before she heard voices in the hallway, footsteps headed in the direction of the bedroom, and the doors begin to unlock. Hadrian entered the room with a roguish grin on his lips as he saw her.

“Hello, my dearest wife,” he said, closing the door shut behind him. “I looked for you everywhere, but I should’ve known you’d be waiting for me here.”

A small smile of her own graced her lips and she stood from the bed. “I see that you’ve made it back in one piece, my husband.”

“Surprised?” he asked, jokingly, as he slowly began to approach her.

“Not at all. You’ve defeated an Archdemon. I’m afraid there must be very little that can knock you down,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Hadrian chuckled, crossing the final bits of space between them and bringing her into his arms. He then crushed his lips into hers to kiss her, deeply.

Now this, this was something she had only gotten used to fairly recently. Unlike Anora, her husband was more outgoing when it came to expressing his affections, whereas she was more subtle. And although this was the case for her, she still very much enjoyed the attention he gave her. She practically melted into his embrace. Once they drew away, she was quite noticeably flushed.

“Hadrian…”

“Maker, how I’ve missed you.”

“As I you.” She held onto his hands. “I hope you enjoy tonight’s dinner. I spent a great deal of time preparing…”

“I know I’ll love it,” he reassured, giving her hands a squeeze. He then gave her a devious look. “But, what I’ll enjoy more is the time we’ll spend together afterwards.”

She shook her head, a smile still tugging at her lips before she gently shoved at him. “Go on and start getting ready. It’ll be starting rather soon.”

Hadrian gave her a small salute. “As you say, my love.”

And as he turned to prepare, Anora simply stood and watched him for a few moments before stepping out of their room to inspect the progress of the gathering’s preparations.

Oh, how she loved him.

#dragon age #male cousland #anora mac tir #dragon age origins #mcousland x anora #14dalovers

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dragonologist-phd · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Cousland/Anora Mac Tir Characters: Anora Mac Tir, Female Cousland (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Gay yearning, thats it just a lot of gay yearning, I'm Sorry, pre-game Summary:

Anora Mac Tir knows what she wants- she wants to marry Cailan and become the greatest Queen Ferelden has ever known. But on the eve of her wedding, a visit from Sirena Cousland reminds her that there might be other she wants, as well.

(Alternatively, read below!)

It was the night before Anora was to be married, and try as she might she simply couldn’t get a wink of sleep.

Of course she couldn’t. How could anyone expect her to, with such a momentous event looming on the horizon? She’d known her entire life that she was meant to one day become Queen of Ferelden; tomorrow, with her marriage into the Therein family, that destiny would become official. And while any wedding had its share of preparations, the marriage of a future king and queen required a good deal more than a gown and a recitation of vows before a Chantry mother. There were public appearances to be made in front of the Denerim crowds, long speeches to be delivered beneath the Chantry roof, and of course a reception to be held for the visiting nobility who were traveling from all across the country to witness the union.

Anora had never been one to sit back and let others make arrangements in her stead; she had been involved in every step of the preparations, and had poured hours of effort into ensuring that everything would go exactly according to plan. Truth be told, she would be quite relieved when the whole thing was over and done with- the trappings of the wedding were important, a vital part of the image she and Cailan needed to display to the country, but Anora was long ready to turn her attentions to something a bit more stimulating.

She would have the freedom soon enough, she kept reminding herself. She just needed to get through the coming day. And although she knew a proper night’s sleep would help with that, that logic didn’t help as her mind continued to circle over the details she had so carefully planned out for her future.

The restless energy buzzed through Anora like a gnat she couldn’t swat away, filling her with the need to do… something. At last she threw her sheets to the side and rose from her bed, abandoning the pretense of peaceful slumber. What she needed was to move, to occupy herself, to do anything other than sit still and wait for morning. At the very least she could wander the palace gardens- perhaps the fresh air would be enough to free her mind until fatigue finally caught up with her.

As she pulled a warm woolen cloak over her shoulders, Anora told herself she wouldn’t be long. The last thing she wanted was for someone to come across her like this, with undone hair and tired eyes; or worse, for someone drop by her empty room and think her missing.

But as she stepped outside Anora was greeted by a gust of refreshingly chilled wind, and the night sky above was clear and full of stars, and for the first time that day she felt some of the tension leave her body. Even as the hour grew later and later, Anora found herself lingering, her thoughts drifting as she strolled aimlessly along the dirt paths. Perhaps there was no need to rush, after all. She’d memorized the guard’s schedules long ago, and knew how to avoid them; no servants had any business in the gardens this late; any nobles still awake were probably deep in their cups, just as Cailan likely was.

Just as Anora had convinced herself that her solitude was complete, however, a voice rang out across the gardens.

“Anora? What in the world are you doing out here?”

The sudden voice made Anora jump, and she heaved a sigh of annoyance as she realized she’d been spotted. The annoyance fled, however, once she realized who it was that had done the spotting.

“Lady Sirena? Is that you?”

A closer look revealed that it was indeed the Lady Sirena Cousland, who for some reason was perched on a garden wall, one leg hanging carelessly off the side. She laughed and leapt from the wall, heading towards Anora with a grin. “Oh please, don’t lead with the Lady. If you do, I’ll have to call you ‘soon-to-be Future Queen Anora of Ferelden’, and as lovely a title as that is, it’s quite a mouthful.”

Anora fought back a smile. Nobody else would ever speak to her in such a way, but this was Sirena- always ready with a teasing response, hardly worried about any offense she might cause. The Couslands ruled over Highever, and were, along with the Mac Tirs, one of the most respected noble families of Ferelden. That reputation, coupled with Sirena’s disarming smile and easy temperament, was a perfect recipe for the effortless confidence that constantly radiated from the youngest Cousland child.

That disarming smile was now turned upon Anora in full force as Sirena asked, “Really, what are you doing out here?” She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me I’m interrupting a clandestine meeting under the moonlight? And on the eve of your own wedding?”

A huff of laughter escaped Anora’s lips even as she rolled her eyes. “Oh, banish the thought. I was just thinking how pleased I was to see you, and now you’re making me change my mind.”

Sirena just laughed again and wrapped an arm around Anora’s shoulders, pulling her close for a hug. Her long dark hair smelled of rain, and she wore a thick fur cloak over plain traveling clothes; she must have arrived very recently.

“How was the journey from Highever?”

“Too long, as always,” Sirena answered with a shrug. “But you don’t want to hear about a boring carriage trip through the rain and mud. How are you? I am genuinely curious as to what brings out so late on this of all nights.”

Anora waved a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s not that late. And I couldn’t sleep.”

“Too excited?”

“Too preoccupied, rather. There’s so much to think about for tomorrow. Every time I close my eyes, I remember yet another detail that I want to check up on.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Sirena said. “But don’t you have people to do that sort of work for you?”

“Of course I do,” Anora admitted. “But if you want something done correctly…”

“Do it yourself,” Sirena finished. “You’ve been living that motto since we were children.”

“And it’s still true,” Anora pointed out wryly. “Anyway, I could ask the same question of you. How did you end up out here instead of in our rather lovely guest chambers?”

Sirena shrugged and looked back in the direction she’d come from, her gaze traveling over the garden, toward the training ground, beyond the towers that looked over the Denerim marketplace. “Oh, traveling always leaves me nostalgic. I was just wandering around, revisiting a few spots before they’re filled up with people tomorrow.”

Anora could guess as to which memories Sirena was reliving. They had both spent many days at the Denerim palace, watching their parents go about the duties of nobility, knowing that someday they would take their places.

That knowledge had been with Anora for as long as she could remember; her entire life, she reflected, was a preparation for rulership, and it had always been a perfect fit. Even as a child, Anora had loved listening in on the courtly proceedings and hearings, things that bored Cailan to tears as he dutifully followed her lead. In sharp contrast, the silly games and childish play of the other children had always seemed, to Anora, to all be horribly dull.

But even at a young age, Sirena was hard to miss. Always something of a troublemaker, she was direct and honest and said things as they were without layers of political machinations. Her friendship with Anora was something of a mystery, even to Anora herself. But she had to admit there was something about Sirena’s easy confidence and strangely insightful remarks that managed to hold Anora’s interest where few others could.

“It’s been too long since you’ve visited,” Anora remarked, and Sirena’s focus shifted from the palace grounds back to Anora. Her dark eyes were, for a moment, unexpectedly thoughtful. But only for a moment- they quickly brightened again as Sirena gave Anora a warm smile.

“It really has, hasn’t it? We should catch up. And you obviously need to relax a little.” Her grin took on a mischievous edge. “And I have just the thing for that.”

“I need to sleep, not drink myself into a stupor.”

Sirena gave a bark of laughter as she poured the liquor into two glasses and held one out to Anora. “Cailan and his buddies are getting good and drunk out in the courtyard as we speak. Why should they get all the fun?”

The two women were back in Anora’s quarters, having quietly returned after making a quick detour in the kitchens to pilfer a bottle of spirits. Sirena now sat cross-legged on Anora’s carpet, the very picture of temptation as she waggled the glass in her hand towards Anora.

Anora simply rolled her eyes. “You’re relentless.” And yet despite the scoffing she sat down anyway, gathering her skirts around knees, and graciously took the glass. Sirena had chosen a strong liquor, one of the more expensive selections from the wine cellar; today, the choice seemed appropriate. “But I suppose I can’t refuse a toast on the eve of my wedding.”

“Exactly.” Sirena turned her attention to her own glass, carefully measuring out the drink before holding it aloft. “To the bride, and future Queen of Ferelden.”

Anora brought her glass to meet Sirena’s with a soft clink, and then swiftly lifted it to her lips and swallowed the entire drink in one quick gulp.

Sirena downed her drink as well, then laughed in delight. “That’s the spirit I was looking for! I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Don’t tell me this comes as a surprise,” Anora said with a smirk. “Handling one’s drink is a requisite of Ferelden nobility.”

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot. They fit that right between the lessons on Andrastian recitations and history of the Fereldan Rebellion.

With a grin, Anora held out her glass for more liquor, and Sirena happily obliged. As they drank they fell into conversation, a simple rhythm of chatting and drinking between two longtime friends. It was, Anora had to admit, a situation that she was not particularly accustomed to. Cailan was the one who happily entertained others for hours on end, the one who brought about conversation and laughter. Anora was the one who already was known as serious, severe, domineering. This reputation rarely bothered her- it was a good reputation for a future queen to have.

But simply being a woman chatting amicably with pleasant company was nice, too.

“Tired yet?” Sirena asked eventually. She gave Anora a look that was half-joking, half-sincere. “You can tell me to leave whenever I start to get annoying. Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first to kick me out of a room.”

“No, no, stay,” Anora assured her. “If you begin to annoy me, I will certainly let you know.” She giggled- an effect of the drink, of course, for under normal circumstances Anora was most certainly not a giggler. “Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first I’ve kicked out of a room. I’m not exactly known for my gentle disposition, am I?”

“Oh, please,” Sirena said, rolling her eyes as she poured another glass. “Who needs a gentle disposition?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Anora agreed. “Better that they think my too hard than think they control me. I decided that a long time ago.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Sirena said, raising her cup. She was quiet for a moment then, and Anora thought she may be dozing off. But although her eyes held a distant look, they did not close, and eventually Sirena said, “Anyone who would try to control you is an idiot, by the way. You’re smarter than everyone in this castle combined. They should just…get out of your way and let you work your miracles.”

Anora smiled, surprised to feel heat rushing to her cheeks at the compliments. She blamed the drink for that, as well; she knew her own worth and was hardly unaccustomed to recognition. A simple compliment from Sirena Cousland shouldn’t have such an effect on its own. She looked away, hoping the redness in her face wasn’t obvious to the other woman. “Thank you.”

“And you’re going to make a marvelous queen!” Sirena continued. “Ferelden is lucky to have you. I mean that, truly. Nobody else could do a better job.”

“Well, I should hope not,” Anora said. “I have been preparing for this my entire life, you know.” She sighed, tilting her head back as she thought of all the work she had put forth, and all that lay ahead of her.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the next words spoken quietly by Sirena. “Cailan is lucky, too.”

Anora blinked, startled by the apparent change in subject. Recovering quickly, she gave a thin smile. “Ah, yes. I’m certain he’s thanking the stars that he will have someone to handle the details of his future rule. He’s wonderful with people, of course, but try to talk to him about economics or resource distribution and he’s completely lost.”

“That’s true enough,” Sirena agreed, pushing back a long lock of hair from her face. “Although I did mean something more along the lines of…” She paused, and seemed to fumble for words for a moment. “He’s lucky to be marrying someone he’s actually fond of.”

“Oh.” Anora wanted to say more, but she didn’t quite know how to respond to that. It felt such an odd subject to bring up- but her wedding was tomorrow, after all. Perhaps it was a natural point of conversation, after all.

“Not to pry, of course,” Sirena said quickly, noticing Anora’s hesitation. She paused, chewing on her lip for short moment as she regarded Anora with curious, measuring eyes. “I mean, you are fond of each other, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Anora said at once. Realizing her reply came a tad too quickly, she sighed and leaned back against the wall, resting her head against the cool stone. “I’m certain you’ve heard me complain about him, and he can be quite the fool at times. But he has his talents, and he loves Ferelden, and he knows better than to try and order me about. We make a good team, he and I. We know each other, our strengths and weaknesses. As far as arrangements go, it could have been far worse.”

Sirena nodded, turning over Anora’s words in silence. She shifted her position until she, too, was leaning against the wall, close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other. “Do you think you could grow to love him at all?”

This time, the question did not take Anora by surprise; in fact, it was something she had often asked herself. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “But I hardly think that’s the most important thing in marriage. Especially between rulers.”

That earned her a chuckle from Sirena. “You’ve always been a pragmatic one.” Anora frowned, and Sirena gave her an apologetic smile before she playfully bumped her shoulder with her own. “And right, of course, I know you are. I only hope I’m that lucky if I ever get married.”

Anora was so relieved by the lack of judgement from Sirena that she nearly missed the implication in her words. Almost. Her brow furrowed, and she gave Sirena a questioning look. “If? Certainly you have your pick of suitors.” It only made sense- the Couslands were a family of wealth and renown, and Sirena herself was certainly not lacking in beauty. More than that, she was intelligent and skilled with a blade and easy to speak with; any lord would be lucky to win her hand.

But Sirena only shrugged, a playfully crooked smile on her lips. “Oh, there are plenty of men sniffing around for a chance at marrying into the Couslands. Some are even somewhat tolerable. But…”

“But none quite meet your standards?” Anora finished. Her tone was teasing, but she knew the feeling well enough. After all, if she hadn’t been promised to the future king at such a young age, she would probably have found herself in a very similar situation.

“They’re fine enough. Fine enough for flirting and dancing with at parties. But fine enough isn’t something I went to settle for in the long run.” Sirena sighed and looked down, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass. “It’s just that I grew up watching my parents, never realizing what a rare thing they had. They’re so in love that people have written songs about them. That sort of thing doesn’t happen often. Not when marriage is something for duty and politics and…”

“And pragmatism?” Anora asked pointedly, and Sirena gave her another apologetic grin.

“No offense. Like I said, you have the right of it. Eventually I shall likely choose someone, and I’m sure it won’t be as bad as I’m making it out to be. I know my parents would never marry me off to someone I dislike.” Her eyes flicked up to Anora’s face. “I just don’t think the odds of marrying for love are very high.”

Sirena’s voice was low and sorrowful, a startling change from her usual light tone. Without thinking, Anora reached out and put her hand over Sirena’s. “You never know. The future may surprise you.”

Sirena seemed startled at the contact, and Anora wondered for a moment if she was being too forward. But she didn’t pull away, and neither did Sirena- in fact, the other woman shifted her fingers, securing the grip. They stayed that way for a long moment, until at last Sirena recovered herself enough to straighten her shoulders and give Anora a bright smile. “I don’t know about that. But we’ll see.”

Something unfinished still lingered in her words, but for now she at least seemed comforted by Anora’s presence. Anora knew she wasn’t the most comforting sort of person, even at the best of times, but she was happy that she seemed to be doing some good. She gave a firm nod and continued, “And should you never get married, you would be just as well off. If I had been born to royalty on my own, well…as I said, Cailan and I make a good team. But he needs me far more than I need him.” Anora felt a small twinge of guilt saying that out loud, but it was true, and they both knew it, and saying it made Sirena laugh.

“You’ll hear no dispute from me,” she said. “In any case, I have far more exciting things to look forward to than marriage.” She stopped suddenly, and closed her eyes in apparent embarrassment. “Which is probably not what I should say to someone about to get married, is it? We’re supposed to be celebrating you, and I’ve gone and turned it bleak!”

“Oh, please,” Anora said with a laugh of her own. “I believe I’ve made my position on the whole situation rather clear. And I’m interested in hearing more of these grand plans of yours.”

Sirena still looked sheepish, but she obliged. “Well, Fergus will inherit rule of Highever. First-born gets all the perks. But I’ll still be around to assist. I’ll likely take command of our troops.” A small smile crept onto her face. “That’s something I’d be good at. I’d have them all whipped into shape in no time.”

“And if a lord swept you off your feet, you’d have an entire arling of your own to whip into shape. Troops and all,” Anora pointed out. Sirena looked unconvinced, and on impulse Anora added, “Or you could always come here to Denerim. Become a staple of the court. We certainly have plenty of troops that need the help. And I wouldn’t mind having a…”

Anora stumbled over the word friend. Even under the influence of the drink, it was difficult to let something like that slip out so easily. Anora was not accustomed to having friends. She had Cailan, of course; she had her father; she had servants and fellow nobles whom she trusted to varying degrees. But her friendship with Sirena was something different from any of that.

“…a confidante,” she said finally, hoping Sirena hadn’t noticed her momentary conflict. She glanced at the woman from the corner of her eyes, and was satisfied to see that she looked pleased at the notion.

“A tempting offer, I admit,” Sirena said. A smirk played on her lips. “What would my duties as a confidante entail?”

That smirk made Anora oddly flustered, and she had to glance away before she could respond. “Oh…this sort of thing, really. Keeping me company. Listening to me complain. Suppling me with alcohol.” She smiled and raised her empty glass in the air as an example. “You’re doing a splendid job already.”

“And those are just a few of many talents,” Sirena laughed. “I’m honored by the offer. I’m sure there must be fierce competition.”

“Oh, certainly,” Anora agreed. “But most of the other competitors care less about me and more about the power I will wield. They simply want to be close to the Queen.” She grimaced. “Or the King. It’s difficult enough to reign him in without my own companions making eyes at him.”

“Their loss,” Sirena said definitively. “All of them. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, and as…well, Cailan is an idiot and a fool if he even looks at another woman when he has you.”

Maker, Anora could feel herself blushing. She straightened her shoulders, trying desperately not to show her sudden nerves. “I admit, it’s a pleasant change of pace for someone to rush to my defense like this. I certainly tell Cailan the same often enough. Honestly, I would hardly mind if he could at least be discreet about it. But he never thinks of things in such a way. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s found so many who are ever so eager to indulge him. I’d be thankful to have at least one woman around who’s not chasing after him.”

It was a jest, but the possibility was a heavy weight in Anora’s chest, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t lighten when Sirena wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. “Cailan? Maker, no.” Her expression faded into something more contemplative as she looked at Anora. “If I’m to be honest…I was always chasing after someone else.”

That was unexpected- it took Anora a moment to process her words. That same heaviness was back, which made no sense; why should she care if Sirena was holding a torch for someone after all, so long as it was not Cailan? “That’s an unexpected revelation if I’ve ever heard one. What happened to never finding love?”

“Ah. That.” Sirena looked abashed and quickly shook her head. “It would never have worked out. Not with me. They’ve got other things in their life. Other people.”

“Not married, are they?” Anora inquired. She didn’t know why she was still pressing. She didn’t want to know about this person, didn’t want to know who it was Sirena was pining after. But she couldn’t stop the questions from coming.

Sirena was quiet for a moment, although her dark eyes never left Anora’s face. “Engaged, actually.”

Anora’s breath caught, and when she spoke the words were soft and quiet. “Engaged?”

“But only for one more night.”

There was soft moment of realization, a quiet oh in the back of Anora’s mind, and before she could think better of it she whispered, “Then you still have time.”

And suddenly Sirena was kissing her. It was soft at first, uncertain, her lips barely hovering against Anora’s, but as Anora leaned in she became more confident and soon enough the kiss had deepened. Sirena brought a hand to Anora’s face, gently caressing her cheek, and Anora threaded her fingers through Sirena’s long hair as she pulled her even closer. It was like nothing Anora had ever experienced; this was no polite show of carefully cultured affection, no hesitant testing of what was expected of her. This was passionate and earnest and real.

Anora wanted more. She wanted to pull Sirena to her bed, to get even closer, to explore every inch of her body, to completely and utterly forget about everything else in the world-

And then it was over. Anora’s eyes fluttered open, and she realized Sirena and was hastily rising from the floor, muttering hurried, half-formed apologies. “I’m sorry- that was stupid of me- I didn’t intend-and tomorrow you’re-Maker, I’m sorry-”

Anora hurriedly stood as well, reaching out for Sirena as the woman was turning for the door. Her fingers brushed Sirena’s wrist, and although the touch was light Sirena froze in place.

“Sirena, I…”

Anora faltered. She was accustomed to knowing what to say. Knowing exactly what she wanted, and how to get it. But now…now she had no idea. She wanted to be the Queen Ferelden needed. She wanted to follow through on the promises she’d made. She wanted Sirena to stay. She wanted too many things, and those desire could not exist in the same space.

She couldn’t hold on to everything. And that wasn’t fair, not to her or Sirena. But it was the way things were.

“I’m sorry, too,” Anora whispered as she pulled back her hand. As she let Sirena go.

Sirena closed her eyes for moment, then nodded and left the room without another word. Anora numbly reached for the bottle she’d left behind and drained what little remained, trying to chase away the taste of Sirena’s lips. Then she went to bed, and once again she did not sleep.

Sirena almost didn’t show her face the next day.

But if she hid out all day she’d eventually have to explain why. So the next morning she dragged herself out of bed, threw cold water on her face, donned her formal attire, and watched Anora get married.

The ceremony passed in a blur, with the songs of the Chant and the words of endless speeches lulling the day into a hazy rhythm. The only moment that stood out was when Anora entered the Chantry. She walked in with her head held high, the picture of beauty and confidence draped in gold and ivory-white. Just looking at her sent a piercing pain through Sirena’s chest.

She was being ridiculous. Childish. Selfish. Sirena cared about Anora, and she knew this was what she wanted, and she had no right to the longing and jealously that burned through her.

What had she been thinking last night? She’d done so well all these years, fighting back those feelings, telling herself it was a passing crush…and then last night it had all come crashing out. Maybe it was Anora’s suggestion to come to Denerim. The idea of seeing her every day, of being so close to her…all while she was married to Cailan.

Sirena wasn’t capable of such cruelty towards herself. But oh, she’d been tempted.

At least the slip in her defenses hadn’t ruined Anora’s wedding. She was still here, betraying not a single doubt or worry as she recited her vows with clarity before the Maker.

And that was a good thing, Sirena told herself throughout the ceremony. The only thing worse than Anora rejecting her advances would be Anora risking everything she had and everything she wanted over her. That was what Sirena told herself during procession back to the palace. That was what she told herself in the reception held in the ballroom for the new husband and wife, when drinks were had in honor of the happy new couple.

Someone thrust a glass of wine in her hand, and Sirena realized with a start she was being called upon to make a toast. She wavered for a moment, looking across the room and meeting Anora eye to eye.

For the first time that day, Sirena thought she caught a hint of something mournful through Anora’s well-practiced mask of assured certainty. She remembered Anora’s lips against hers, wanting, drawing her in closer. She remembered Anora’s hand on her wrist, silently pleading for something she couldn’t voice. She remembered those whispered words. I am sorry.

Sirena raised a glass and gave the room a smile, big and bright, just what they expected from the ostentatious Cousland girl. “To the bride and groom,” she said, her eyes never leaving Anora’s. “To your bright future. I know you will do amazing things for Ferelden, and it is my truest hope that this life brings you every happiness.”

Anora smiled at her- a small, sad smile that that spoke volumes more than any speech and utterly broke Sirena’s heart. It was there and gone in an instant, wiped away as the next person stood to make their toast. But every now and then her gaze would return to Sirena, and that smile would come back. Never for long. Never noticed by anybody else. But Sirena saw it, and she knew she would never forget it as long as she lived.

#dragon age #fanfic #anora mac tir #cousland #anora x cousland #dao #ch: sirena #this was gonna be one chapter in a larger fic but it morphed and demanded to be a fic of its own

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mxanigel · 3 months

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Tagged by @arendaes to play this get-to-know-you game, thank youuu~ 💜

No-pressure tagging @poetikat @captastra @nowandthane @korblez @dr-paine @perhapsrampancy @voljinswife @therisingphoenixden @cassandra-pentughasst @illusivesoul @marythegizka @saraptor

My answers to the below prompts are below the cut!

Three ships Last song Last film Currently reading Currently craving

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Three ships: Running with the OC list and the canon list idea~ Levi/Hange/Shion from Attack on Titan (brainrot will brainrot) and Neri Surana/Anders and Heather Cousland/Anora Mac Tir from Dragon Age. For canon x canon pairings, Shionne/Alphen from Tales of Arise, Lloyd/Noel from the Legend of Heroes series, and recently I can't stop thinking about Nyreen/Aria from Mass Effect.

Last song: Lauv - Chasing Fire ("I'm chasing fire when I'm running after you / You got that something that I never wanna lose" whew)

Last film: If the actually final final two lengthy episodes of Attack on Titan don't count, a rewatch of Glass Onion with family over the winter holidays.

Currently reading: a bunch of things! Tearmoon Empire, 86, anxiously awaiting the next volume of The Summer You Were There (which apparently will rip out my heart). Well, I say "currently," but I haven't touched a book all week…

Currently craving: Other than sleep, a spicy burger with a thin beef patty, a huge pile of perfectly crisp lettuce, and a toasted bun. I might have to add those ingredients to our weekly shopping list…

#tag games #food rambles

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giottoren · 3 years

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💧The Wedding ceremony of Anora Mac Tir and her Prince Consort in 9:33 Dragon💧

Wanted to draw their second wedding in Highever where Galivar has the chance to wear the traditional clothes of his House. What happened in their first wedding is a bit of a headcanon so I'll leave that for another time ;)

Got this whole idea for this drawing from John Duncan's painting of Tristan and Isolde, which I whole-heartedly recommend you check it out.

#anora mac tir #queen anora #warden cousland #Galivar Cousland #Highever #dragon age #dragon age awakening #dragon age origins #Anora x cousland #Anora x warden #my art #Giotto's art

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khaveria · 5 years

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Anora Mac Tir Deserves Happiness

#mod surana #anora mac tir #anora x cousland #anora x warden #dragon age origins #dragon age #text #dumb post

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