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transprincecaspian · 1 year

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A small collection of images featuring Naoise Cousland now that I've got my mods and Origins running the way I want them to. Here's a peek into the poor poor traumatic twists so far. RIP like basically his whole family. Also @hannahrama i know i promised you more mahariel and there will be more!! i just hope you like naoise too <3

#dragon age #dragon age origins #naoise cousland #cousland has unfortunately become my fave origins i think #maybe not my fave but like #its up there in interest #im really passionate about it as you can tell #NAOISE IS SO POUTY #i love a man who pouts and he embodies that #lore to come no doubt #he is not afraid to cross his arms and sulk #ugh what an icon #his mabari is named coinn. if u even care #cousland origin #cousland warden

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vakarians-babe · 11 months

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Chapter 42: By Tooth and Nail

The forest, when they leave the Dalish encampment, seems almost to close behind them, swallowing them up. Savreen turns and looks back only a few paces in, hoping to catch a reassuring sight of a patch of tent canvas, a curling lick of smoke, or even Mithra watching them go, but there is nothing there, nothing but the forest. It unsettles her, but she keeps close to Zevran as he leads them through the brush. Leliana helps him occasionally, pointing out other evidence of werewolf tracks, and it reminds Savreen just how little she knows of the “Chantry sister.”

There is little to think of but the chore of following the trail the two rogues trace out through soft dirt and crushed branches and tufts of shed fur. The ground is far from easy to traverse, and every so often, it seems as though they cross a portion of a tangled path meant to lead them astray, to distract them.

“It is my humble opinion,” Zevran says after what Savreen thinks must be close to two hours, “that the Keeper’s belief in the stupidity of werewolves is ill-founded.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, clambering through the snapping branches of a heavy shrub with faint irritation. This would be easier if the werewolves didn’t run through quite so much underbrush.

“They are trying to avoid tracking. And they are quite good at it, too.”

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blarrghe · 2 years

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Strange Feelings in the Party Camp

From the top // Ch. 3

Summary:

Alistair is in love with Violet. Violet is sleeping with Zevran. Zevran is too good a friend to Alistair. Violet is too good a friend to Zevran. And can love even really be on the table, when you're all probably going to die?

Snippet:

They go to Redcliffe after negotiating a strange peace between newly cured humans, once werewolves, and the elves. In the end, Violet made what Zevran thinks was the right call, even if it took them more time and may have gained them less strength. He knows that Alistair agreed with and even encouraged the decision, though as usual he claims no part of the credit.

For himself, Zevran has no complaints about the extra time spent wandering the Brecilian. They met a walking play-on-words, traded acorns with a very strange hermit, and in the end, pleased a truly lovely looking spirit. All in a few days work, it would seem, for this strange company.

Now they are headed into town. Supposedly into lodgings within an actual building with a roof overhead. He is looking forward to a bed, for more reasons than one. Or perhaps just for one. He is beginning to feel… unsure about bedding Violet. Which means he should definitely stop. The moment he begins to feel anything, any feeling at all, is the moment when he should stop. He knows this. He has not yet stopped.

As they round a corner and find themselves approaching a wooden bridge over a small rush of falls, blue skies and a towering castle in the distance, he hears Violet let out a small gasp and watches her turn her face upwards to the sun with a relieved smile.

The trouble is that she is very, very pretty.

#caved and posted another #strange feelings in the party camp #my fic #zevaliwarden #zevran x warden #alistair x zevran #alistair x warden #cousland warden #dao #zevran #alistair #canon universe #dragon age #dragon age fanfic

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daughter-of-the-prophet · 1 year

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When they children, both Fergus and Ilona would sometimes go into the castle's larder while no one was looking to sneaks some sweets or two either before dinner or in the middle of the night as a midnight snack. Sometimes they would managed to succeed and sometimes they would get caught and then end up being scolded and/or punished by their parents for either eating sweets before dinner or being in the castle's larder late at night when they were supposed to be in bed.

Because of this whenever Nan and the kitchen servants made cookies, she would put the cookie jar on the highest shelf in the larder so neither of the Cousland children could reach it, which would never worked as Fergus and Ilona would then work together by having Fergus stand on a stool with Ilona on his shoulders so she could reach into the jar. If there was only one cookie left in the jar, Ilona would always be willing to let her big brother have it and Fergus would always be willing to share the last cookie by breaking it in half and giving the biggest half to his little sister.

#dragon age: origins #dao #Cousland #castle cousland #Cousland origin #human noble origin #fergus cousland #Ilona Cousland #cousland warden #female cousland #headcanon #dragon age #cousland family

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alexdoesaart · 2 years

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Don't mess it up, Alex.

Don't. Mess it. Up.

DAMN IT I FORGOT HER SHOULDER PADS.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #cousland warden #female cousland #tessa cousland #damnit #please kill me

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haverdoodles · 20 days

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commission for @thelilyknight 💙

ellanna & alistair

loved working on this one :")

#commission #dragon age #alistair theirin #warden cousland #ellanna cousland #dragon age oc #dragon age origins #haverdoodles #art

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inquisitorgaywarden · 2 months

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Cousland's Vengence

Screw that Howe in particular

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age art #warden cousland #Arl Rendon Howe #arl howe #my art

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jaythenugget · 7 months

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ok i don't think i ever posted this here so...

a piece from last year that i still like, with my other warden - Helena Cousland she's my precious baby :(

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanart #dao #warden cousland #grey warden #dragon age oc #dragon age warden

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whoisnotmyname · 1 year

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armor upd8 for Micha

#micha #warden #art #my art #cousland #hof #dao #dragon age origins #dragon age #cousland warden #armor design

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transprincecaspian · 1 year

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I should’ve gone to bed 3 hours ago, but instead I wrote another Zevran and Naoise shortfic (1.9k words) to flesh out their dynamic.

Naoise goes missing, Zevran finds out about Arl Howe, slight bonding ensues. Very rough fic and more of an exploration of themes and character dynamics. LMK what y’all think 👍 read below the cut

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A footstep and the rustling of leaves stirred Zevran from his sleep. He sat up in his tent, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes. He yawned; normally, movement in the forest wouldn’t jolt him from a dead sleep, but something was different this time. He quickly threw on his clothes, and staggered out of his tent as he pulled on his boots. He reached back to grab one of his daggers and strap it to his hip before taking a survey of the camp.

Nothing was immediately out of place. All seemed quiet, and everyone was asleep in their tents. He could see the fire near Morrigan’s remote tent growing dim. The pit that the rest of the party had circled around was still sparking, spitting embers upward. It had been stoked recently. Zevran spun in a circle, trying to place the discontent in his gut. Something wasn’t right. He took a few steps closer to the fire, sighing as he peered into it. He could even hear Alistair’s snoring from his tent a few feet over. Usually it was the dog that rumbled loud enough to shake the earth.

Zevran’s head snapped up. He couldn’t hear the dog. Naoise’s mutt was always making noise, be it snoring or barking or snuffling about. Zevran, twisting around, realized that Naoise was nowhere to be seen, either. The warden was supposed to be keeping watch, and now neither he nor his mabari could be located. He picked up the pace and circled the camp, reluctant to call out yet. Perhaps they had gone off to investigate something alone, but that seemed unlikely and dangerous. He was about to relent and start shouting for Naoise when he saw a shadow lurking at the edge of the camp. Upon closer inspection, it was Coinn; the loyal hound sat still in the cloying shadows, staring off into the distant forest.

“You! Dog,” Zevran hissed. Coinn looked back at him silently. “Come here,” he urged. When the hound didn’t move, he tried all sorts of tricks; clicking his tongue and patting his knee, everything he had seen Naoise do before, but nothing worked. Coinn didn’t budge, and eventually looked forward into the darkness once again.

“You know, I didn’t think the dog was supposed to be keeping watch,” he huffed. Forgoing etiquette for concern, Zevran turned to march towards the Warden’s tent. For all his japes, Zevran knew that Naoise would never have gone to bed without rousing Alistair for his shift. Naoise always took the first shift. When Zevran had asked why, he was merely informed that Naoise liked to know that everyone else was safely abed before going to sleep himself.

He threw open the flaps to Naoise’s tent, finding exactly what he’d feared: nothing. The warden was gone, his bedroll empty. A quick glance told Zevran that he intended to return; his arms and armor were gone, but personal effects such as journals and other clothes remained. He backed out and let the tent fall closed behind him, cursing as he paced around the camp. After a moment’s deliberation, he poked his head into Alistair’s tent.

“Alistair!” He hissed, loudly enough that the other man stirred immediately. “Come out here.”

Zevran was pacing around the campfire when Alistair finally stumbled out of his tent, his shirt inside out. He refrained from commenting, and instead waited for the other warden to finish yawning.

“What is it?” Alistair asked. “I thought you were taking the third watch. Why didn’t Naoise wake me up?”

“He’s gone,” Zevran snapped. “Can you sense any darkspawn?”

“What?” Alistair was clearly awake now. “What do you mean he’s gone? Do you mean Naoise just left? Where did he go?”

“If only I had thought of such evocative questions, Alistair. Are there darkspawn nearby or not?”

Alistair scowled. Zevran almost regretted his sharp tone, but he couldn’t explain the dread building in his chest. He knew that Grey Wardens could sense darkspawn—he wasn’t sure how—but he knew that Alistair was better at it than Naoise. Naoise could only catch on a few seconds before they were set upon, not a few minutes.

“No,” Alistair eventually said. “At least not as far as I can tell. I don’t think Naoise would go running off against darkspawn alone. It would be pretty stupid of him.”

Zevran scoffed. “Obviously. But his dog is just sitting there, staring into the woods,” he said, gesturing to the hound. “And his tent is empty; bow and all. He has to be somewhere. Is there anywhere else he could be?”

As soon as he asked the question, he knew that Alistair knew. The bastard was incapable of keeping a straight face, and this expression was one of dawning recognition, tinged with guilt. “I might know,” Alistair admitted. “Do you remember those knights whose path we crossed on the road earlier?”

Zevran nodded; Naoise had insisted that everyone keep their head down and move demurely, drawing no attention to themselves beneath their cloaks. The rain helped to obscure their identities, but even Zevran could tell that Naoise was tense and on edge.

Alistair bit on the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I didn’t think he’d actually try to do anything about it, really—“

“Alistair! Spit it out!”

“Okay, okay!” He said, putting a hand out. “The knights, their shields and banners… I remember now. The red bear; they were Arl Howe’s men.”

Zevran blinked. “The man who hired me for Loghain?”

Alistair nodded. “Yes, the man who— wait, what? I thought you said that Loghain hired you!”

“Technicalities,” he said. “Loghain was the one who paid the Crows, yes, but it was this Arl Howe who found me and orchestrated the whole, you know, assassination attempt.”

“So you don’t get it,” said Alistair. “Arl Howe and his family used to be close with Teyrn Cousland; Naoise’s family. It was Howe’s treachery that led to their slaughter, and the theft of Highever; he was the one who murdered Naoise’s family.”

Zevran went still. Left unsaid, but plainly written on Alistair’s face, was the fact that Arl Howe was, in some way, responsible for Naoise becoming a Grey Warden. A fact that, as Zevran had learned, Naoise greatly resented, despite his diplomatic efforts at concealing it. “So you think that he has gone after these knights.”

“I didn’t think he’d be so stupid as to try,” Alistair sighed. “Look, let me wake up the others and we’ll go after him—“

“No,” Zevran cut him off. “Let me go alone. If all of us come, he might be emboldened to think we are aiding him, and then we shall have a massacre on our hands. I will go bring him back.”

“Are you sure?” Alistair raised an eyebrow. Zevran knew that his concern wasn’t for him; it was for letting Zevran out of his sight, or for trusting him alone with Naoise.

“You don’t have any other options,” he said. “We will be back before sunrise. You needn’t worry your sleepy warden head about it.”

—-

Zevran might have appreciated the stillness with which Naoise held his bow taut, or the strength exuding from his muscular shoulders, if he weren’t about to fire upon a camp of knights in a vain, reckless quest. He came to a stop but a few feet away.

“What are you doing here?” Naoise asked quietly. He didn’t look away from the camp below.

“Oh, you know me,” Zevran laughed. “I can’t resist the opportunity to sneak away with a handsome man and meet him for a tryst in the woods. The better question is, what are you doing here? Do you plan to join us?”

“You should go back to camp, Zevran.”

Zevran’s smile faded, but he forced it back up. “You know I cannot do that, my dear warden. Not without you to lead the way! I would be hopelessly lost were it not for your keen eye.” The Crows only recruited elves for their greater eyesight. Even in the dark, he could make out the blond tresses curling around Naoise’s face, the clench of his jaw, the pursing of his lips. “Naoise. You cannot fight them all.”

“I can die trying,” he spat. “I can make them pay. Then I can be with my family once again. That is all I have wanted; I should have died there in Highever with them all.”

Zevran noticed the waver in his voice, in his arm. He reached out and put a hand on Naoise’s shoulder. Slowly, he lowered the bow. “Come on,” he pleaded. “Let us go.”

Naoise turned, but bitterly wrenched away from Zevran and stormed off back into the woods. He followed hot on the warden’s trail, but it wasn’t until they were far enough away from the knights to be out of earshot that he realized that Naoise was crying. Soft weeping slowly turned to wailing sobs, and he threw his bow aside on the ground.

“I hate them!” Naoise declared. “I hate them all! I hate Howe! I should have slit all their throats! Stuck an arrow between their eyes!” Zevran didn’t know what to say, or what to do as Naoise sank to the ground. He stopped, merely watching as he cried.

“I hate them,” Naoise said again, trembling. The tears came faster than he could wipe them away. “I hate you,” he added venomously. “You should have let me kill them. You should let me die.”

“How nihilistic of you,” Zevran said. He furrowed his brows sympathetically. “What would that have accomplished? It would have been a waste of a talented life, and not a half-bad looking one, too.”

Naoise sniffled and glared at him. “So you shall take me back to camp, and then what? Wherever after this? Will you return to your assassinations and your dalliances? Morrigan to the wilds, Leliana to the Chantry; yes, yes, we shall all split ways, all go home. But not I, no,” he said bitterly, spitting away salty tears. “My home is gone now, because of him. I am going to die either way, Zevran, he won. I just… I … I do not wish to die alone.”

“I know,” Zevran lied. He, who had been so willing to let Naoise run him through the first day they met, didn’t understand the desire to die with someone. “I know that you do not, and so you shall not. I will not let you die alone, my dear warden.”

Naoise sniffed again. “You cannot promise that.”

“Nor can you declare that you shall die entirely alone,” Zevran said as he picked up the discarded bow. “We do not know what the future holds, no? So we can only continue as we are. Please, come back to the camp with me. Your time for vengeance will come. Have I… ever told you about Antiva?”

It took a moment of deliberation, but Naoise eventually dragged himself to his feet and began to walk. The rest of their trek was marked by periods of silence; uncomfortable, vulnerable, even as he spoke of his own home, and Zevran understood what Naoise must have felt watching him in the Fade. Like you might touch something too tender. When they returned, Naoise and his dog went straight to bed without another word to anyone, Alistair included.

The next morning, Zevran awoke to a bottle of fine brandy outside of his tent. There was a note tied to it, an apology scrawled in the fine calligraphy of someone well-learned.

I’m sorry, it read. I don’t hate you.

#working on themes and character #curious what you y’all think #let me know!!!#thots on rogues #Naoise cousland #zevran arainai #Naoise meta #Cas meta #cas writes #dragon age #dragon age origins #cousland warden #warden cousland

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vakarians-babe · 1 year

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Chapter 34: A Mother’s Love

“When I said that your departure was hardly covert—”

“You couldn’t have just said ‘Loghain knew you were headed for Orzammar’?”

“Well, I thought that was implied.”

“I—whether or not it was implied, couldn’t you have just—” Savreen sighs as she returns to the campfire, Sher as silent and close to her heels as a shadow. They’ve been sitting here now for hours, gathered by scrub and brush in a divot in the hilly landscape as the sky gradually darkens overhead, arguing over what, exactly, to do next. Well, not everyone has been arguing: mostly, it’s been Alistair, Tali, and Morrigan, who aren’t prepared to abandon course or to turn from the Dwarven city. Alistair’s point of view Savreen understands, even if she finds it short sighted: he wants to face Loghain as soon as possible, to hit him hard and fast, and continuing on along a path Loghain knows they’ll be taking only speeds up the likelihood of an encounter. Tali’s perspective is hardly surprising, as she’s never been too patient. It would surprise Savreen more if she were willing to simply abandon Orzammar, after they’ve been concentrating their energy on reaching it for as long as they have. But she does also know that, if Savreen suggests they switch course, Tali will accept it.

Morrigan, though, Savreen doesn’t understand at all. If Savreen didn’t know her better, she would think that Morrigan were afraid to alter their course.

#laura writes #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfic #dao #hero of ferelden #grey warden #morrigan #alistair theirin #zevran arainai #savreen kaur cousland #talvinder kaur cousland #cousland warden

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blarrghe · 2 years

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Strange Feelings in the Party Camp

Rating: M | Category: M/M/F | Words: 13474 | Chapters: 4/?

Chapter 4: Cold Shoulders

Chapter Snippet:

“Maker, does no one fucking trust me?” Violet’s muttering that to herself, but loud enough that Alistair can hear.

“I do,” he volunteers, and then she glares at him.

“Oh?” She sounds disbelieving, which is not really fair. But she’s been doing that a lot lately, not being very fair.

Alistair shrugs. “Partners, remember?”

She grunts. It is neither affirmative nor entirely disbelieving. Sort of resigned, he thinks. Then she glances over his shoulder, glare hardening again. Alistair turns and spots Zevran quietly gathering up her kicked-over potion bottles. He frowns.

“He didn’t break your heart, did he? Because if he did I could break his nose. Just saying.” Doing what he does best, Alistair makes a goofy, ill-timed, and far too brotherly joke.

“What? Who?”

“Zevran. I mean, he said it wasn’t ever a real thing between you two but you, you liked him, right? Or you were…? I’m just —” he stops; Violet is glaring at him again. “Maybe it’s not my business.”

“It’s really not.” Alistair nods and begins to quietly back away. Then, thoughtfully, Violet sighs. “He was right though, no broken hearts. We’re just… not fucking anymore.”

He is again pretty sure that she is lying. And he was right the last time.

“O-k,” he says slowly, “well, good for you. Or bad for you? I mean. It was good though, wasn’t it?” What had she said before? That she thought it helped, all the… activity. With the stress and the nightmares and the — he needs to stop thinking about this right this very second.

Violet raises an eyebrow. “Well he’s not fucking anyone else to my knowledge, you could find out.”

“Hah!” Alistair exclaims his first burst of laughter loudly and involuntarily. It is followed by a line of softer, more broken bursts of laughter — ha-ha-ha-ha… ah.

#my fic #dao #alistair x zevran #zevran x warden #alistair x warden #cousland warden #alistair #zevran #canon universe #strange feelings in the party camp #dragon age #dragon age fanfic

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