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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 20

Prompt: Did I ask? Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Connor Guerrin, Evette Amell Rating: PG Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart Read More Fictober

Connor was furious when Evette came out of solitary confinement. As soon as he’d heard she was back he came storming into her chambers, not bothering to knock. “What in the Maker’s name was that about?” he demanded.

Evette had been coming out of her bathing room, a dressing gown wrapped around her. She looked thin and tired, as if she hadn’t slept the whole two weeks she’d been gone. “Pup,” she sighed, waving him to a chair at the small table set with soup and a pot of tea. “You made a mistake, one that many have made before you. You shouldn’t be punished for being my apprentice.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his anger settling into the lines of his lanky body.

She poured a cup of tea for each of them with shaking hands, breathing in the fragrant steam before answering. “You’ve been here nearly two years. Haven’t you noticed that the Templars are harder on you than the others?”

“I thought that was because of…” he trailed off, sure she would understand that he meant his possession as a child.

“In part. The other part is because of me,” she explained, taking a sip. “You know I left the Wardens after the Blight. But I’m also not a true Circle mage anymore, either. The Wardens protect me from having another phylactery, but it also means I am no longer obligated to follow the Circle’s rules.”

“But you do,” Connor broke in. “You follow all the rules just like you were never a Grey Warden!”

“Out of respect,” she told him. “They let me return, gave me status within the Circle. But I am a very powerful mage now; the Templars view me as uncontrollably powerful. So I take my mentorship with you very seriously. They cannot see me teaching you powerful and forbidden magic.”

“But Evette, you took my punishment,” he said, glaring at her. “I’m nearly fourteen, I can take it!”

“I couldn’t let a child go into solitary confinement,” she said calmly.

“Did I ask you to do it for me!?” he demanded. “No! I broke the rules! I should have paid the price! What—”

Evette’s cup is returned to her saucer with a sharp click. “No, you did not,” she snapped, her voice frosty. “But I am your mentor, and I was responsible. You want to take responsibility for your actions? Do better, Pup.”

#Fictober20 #dragon age origins #connor guerrin #evette amell #female amell #kinloch hold #circle mage

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ao3feed-handers · 6 years

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You Shouldn't Be Here

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PoWMEQ

by CuriousThimble

Evette finally tracks down an old friend.

Words: 386, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 9 of Fictober 2018 Microfics

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age II

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Female Warden (Dragon Age), Evette Amell, Anders (Dragon Age), Female Hawke, Fenris (Dragon Age)

Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke

Additional Tags: Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2PoWMEQ

#handers #anders/f!hawke #f!handers #hawke/anders #dragon age 2 #IFTTT #ao3feed

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 23

Prompt: Do we have to? Fandom: Dragon Age, Mage Origin Characters: Evette Amell, Cullen Rutherford Rating: PG Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

“We shouldn’t be here,” Evette whispered, looking for trouble in every shadow.

“You’re sitting in the Chantry chapel with a Templar, it’s fine,” Cullen whispered back, sitting in the pew in front of her. His head was bowed and hands were clasped in front of him, the perfect image of a man in prayer. “Just bow your head.”

She scooted nervously to the side, desperate to put more distance between them in case someone came in. This was madness, why had she even agreed to come? “You said...you said you wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to be sure you were all right,” he said. “I… I couldn’t take the solitary shift often without making someone suspicious.”

Evette shuddered, thinking of the time she’d lost in that dark, damp hole. She’d come out of it light-sensitive, weak, and with the bones in her hands and face in sharp relief. Anders had been waiting for her and took her to the dormitory for a bath and rest before dinner. The meal had been so rich it made her sick, and he’d helped her with that, too.

“The first week was terrible,” she said finally.

“I know. I mean, I saw you at mealtimes. You didn’t eat anything but bread and broth.”

“The rich food made me ill.”

There’s a long silence that made her think he might actually be saying a prayer. He wasn’t wearing his armor or his more casual Templar tunic, opting instead for a plain shirt and a brown vest. It made him look young— or rather, it let him look his age, he couldn’t be much older than her. Foolishly, she wanted to run her hands over his broad shoulders, to see if the rest of him was as warm as his eyes.

She settled for reaching out and touching a single, golden curl, her touch so soft he didn’t feel it. In another world this would be the beginning of a courtship, she thought, pulling her hand back as if his hair burned her.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, turning to look at her.

Wide, startled silver eyes blink at him stupidly. Had he felt her touch after all? This had been a bad idea, she needed to run. “I— we— I can’t—”

“Evette,” he said softly, taking her hand. “I—”

“We have to go,” she said, jerking her hand away and standing. “Now.”

He looked at her in confusion. “Do we have to? We haven’t done anything wrong. We’re just...praying.”

“You may have been,” she said. “But I— I have to go.”

#Fictober20 #cullen rutherford #evette amell #mage origin #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfic

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 1

Prompt #1: No, come back Rating: PG-13-- solitary confinement, mistreatment of mages Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: F!Amell x Cullen When Evette is put into solitary confinement, the last thing she expected was a friendly voice.

“No!” Evette beat her fists bloody on the door, sobbing. “Come back!” she screamed desperately. “I didn’t do anything! Come back!”

Why would they put me in here? What did I do?

The walls closed in around her in the dark and she could feel the room getting smaller around her. Gasping for breath, she sank to the floor, curling into a ball and letting her grief overwhelm her. She’d been quietly studying in the library when Gregor and two of his Templars had burst in, drained her of magic, and dragged her to solitary confinement. No one had ever said why they were doing it.

I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Don’t leave me,” she cried softly. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If you keep screaming they’ll gag you.”

Evette gasped, sitting up so fast her head spins. The whisper had come from her left, and she crawled through the blinding darkness until her hands came to a wall. “Anders?” she breathed.

“Shh, no names,” she heard before the sound of metal clinking together. Chains? Is he a prisoner? “Do you know magelight?”

“Yes… but they cleansed me,” she said. “I can’t do it.”

“Damn. That’s right.”

She didn’t answer, only searched herself for the smallest wisp of magic. There was nothing, the Templars had done their job well. With a sigh, she lifts her hands to press against the wall, as if the cold, damp stone could somehow replenish her power. This was nothing like the long-forgotten storeroom where she, Anders, and Karl had drank stolen wine and plotted escape the year before.

This was where they took mages and forgot about them.

This was the place that had drained all the life out Anders when he’d finally been released. But hadn’t she seen Anders in the dining hall an hour ago? No one else had been grabbed and brought down to the dungeon.

“Who are you?” she asked finally. “Where are you?”

“On the other side of the wall,” the voice said. “There’s a crack in the mortar here.” A scratch and flash of dim light and Evette can see her companion has struck a match near a weak place in the mortar, just big enough for a fingertip to fit.

“Are you a prisoner?” she asked. “Where did you get a match?”

The match went out and silence filled the hole it left. She heard a muttered curse and the clatter of— was that armor? Had she been talking with a Templar? Who would dare? Surely not one from Kinloch Hold, there wasn’t enough kindness in them to light a match. Footsteps hurried away and she laid on the floor, pressing her face as close to the crack in the wall as she could, hoping to see anything.

“No, come back,” she whispered furtively.

More metal, this time scraping stone and jingling in time with a second set of footsteps.

“I’m here to relieve you, Rutherford,” a new voice said.

“Already?”

The new voice laughed. “You been sleeping down here? I don’t blame you, the dogs are all chained up or the cells are enchanted to be silent. Not a lot of fun to be had unless you’re feeling bold.”

Evette scrambled away from the wall, her heart racing. Rutherford. He was the newer one, the one who had led her out of the dungeon when Anders and Karl had escaped last year.

Read More Fictober 2020 Read Cold Hands, Warm Heart

#fictober20 #cullen/f!amell #cullen x amell #solitary confinement #kinloch hold #templar cullen #dao fic #dragon age fic

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Catch-Up, Day 24

Prompt: Are you kidding me? Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Anders, Jowan, Evette Amell, Greagoir Rating: PG Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Evette sat beside Anders, head tilted toward him, listening to his explanation of healing magic. She loved listening to him talk about spirits and healing; he had such a deep and beautiful talent for it that it was no surprise when he’d decided to make it his focus and become a spirit healer. Like her own specialization with ice and snow, he seemed to have been born with it in his veins.

“And...that’s it,” he said, leaning back. “It’s not so hard, but it does take a while to gain the trust of a spirit.”

Jowan raised his eyebrows, pretending to be impressed. “You make it sound so easy,” he said, but Evette could see the jealousy roiling in his eyes. Jowan hated Anders and made no secret it— so why bother coming to hear him talk, anyway?

“What do you think about blood magic as a source of healing?” Jowan asked.

Evette’s jaw dropped, utterly stunned at the question. She was about to lay into Jowan about the dangers of someone hearing a question like that when Anders slammed his book shut. “No,” he said in a quiet, angry voice. “That’s not something we’re going to talk about. Ever. You’re too young and inexperienced—”

“I am not! And I’m not a blood mage, I just want to know your thoughts!”

“Jowan, hush!” Evette whispered. “Someone will hear you!”

Jowan laughed, lifting his hands innocently. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I just asked a question.”

“One Anders refused to answer,” came a voice behind them. Evette turned slowly, horror freezing her veins at the sound of Greagoir’s voice. “Why is that?”

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Anders said in a sharp tone, looking at his feet. “I know better than to go asking stupid questions like that.”

Greagoir frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “What is your opinion of blood magic, then?”

Anders’ head snapped up, eyes wide. “I— I don’t have one,” he said, swallowing hard. “Blood magic is forbidden.”

“Seems to me that you do,” Greagoir said, nodding to Evette and Jowan, frozen in their chairs with fear. “You said they were too young and inexperienced— to what, Anders?”

“Nothing. To know how dangerous a question like that is.”

“I see.”

“Greagoir,” Anders began, trying to call up a charming smile but failing. “You have to understand, I was trying to—”

“To find yourself in solitary,” Greagoir finished.

“Are you kidding me?” Evette’s voice was like a tree branch snapping in the cold. “No! Greagoir, that’s not fair!”

“Do you want to go as well, Amell?”

Fear was like a branding iron in her stomach, but she couldn’t back down, not when Jowan was the one who started this mess. “No, but—”

“Then I suggest you stay quiet.”

#fictober20 #anders #jowan #circle mage #female amell #greagoir #templar #mage #dragon age origins #mage origin

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober, Day 8

Prompt: Will you look at this? Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Evette Amell, Jowan, Anders Rating: G Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

“Ouch! Jowan, watch what you’re doing!” Evette cradled her hand against her chest, glaring at her friend. “You moron.”

“Sorry, Evette,” Jowan said, giving her an effortless smile and pushing the books away. “Are you all right?”

Jowan had been levitating ten heavy books, bragging about the weight he could support when he made a wrong move. The stack had dropped right out of the air and landed right on Evette’s hand as she reached for her notes. Looking at it now, her glare became even more fierce.

“Look, it’s purple and starting to swell!”

Jowan winced himself when he saw it. First Enchanter was going to be upset when he learned about this, and at this rate he’ll never get his harrowing. And if Evette went to one of the healers, they’d want to know what happened, and he’d be on kitchen duty— or worse— and miss his date with Lily.

“Put some ice on it and let’s see if Anders will help you,” he offers, putting a hand under her elbow and helping her to her feet. She cast a spell that encased her entire hand in ice, and once again he felt like he’d been left behind in skill.

Helping her through the halls, he had to grit his teeth against the icy fog seeping through her robes and revealing how upset she really was. Damn, she’s not going to let me forget this soon. They found Anders in one of the common rooms, flirting with a pretty Tranquil and getting absolutely nowhere. Why does he even bother? They’re Tranquil, they can’t feel anything. What an idiot.

He stumbled, nearly taking Evette down with him and succeeding in drawing a few snickers and stares from the other mages and Templars hanging around. Great. Anders jumped to his feet, hurrying over with a concerned look.

“Vette, what happened?” he asked, nudging Jowan out of the way and helping her to a chair.

“Some books fell on me,” she said, shooting Jowan a look that made him feel small. “Will you look at this? It really hurts.”

“Take the ice off, Frosty,” he said teasingly, lifting the block of ice that was her hand. “I could melt it, but that might not go well.”

With a wave of her good hand and a whispered word, the ice exploded into little snowflakes, swirling to rest in her palm. Jowan watched, amazed, as she closed her hand and opened it again, the snowflakes completely gone. Her skin wasn’t even damp.

“Oh yeah, this is broken,” Anders muttered. He gently wraps his hands around it, the blue glow of his magic surrounding them.

Why can’t I do magic like that? Jowan wondered bitterly. He watched as Anders leaned in and whispered something in Evette’s ear, making a quick smile appear for just a second. I’ll never be strong enough to do anything.

Not with my magic.

#fictober20 #anders #f!amell #mage origin #jowan #dragon age origins

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 26

Prompt: How about you trust me for once? Fandom: Dragon Age Origins, Mage Origin Characters: Evette Amell, Cullen Rating: G Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Evette followed Cullen down the dark stairs, clutching a dark blanket around her. “Cullen, where are we going?” she asked again, her voice a fearful whisper. “If we’re caught—”

“You’re with a Templar,” Cullen said, almost cheerful. “They can’t do anything to you.”

“Says you. You’ve never been confined to an empty classroom for a week because you had the misfortune to hear the wrong question.”

The spring in Cullen’s steps left him, and he turned to face her. “That wasn’t your fault,” he said seriously.

“It wasn’t Anders’ fault either,” she argued. “But he got solitary confinement and I got confined to an empty room.”

“It’s not as if confining you to your dorm was much of a punishment,” Cullen said defensively. “And you did talk back to the Knight-Commander.”

“Why should Anders and I have been punished at all?” she asked.

Cullen’s jaw tightened. “You know why.”

“And what do you think they will do when they find us?” Evette pushed. “Do you think they’ll slap you on the wrist and send me on my way? Cullen, what do you think they’ll—”

“How about you trust me for once?” he snapped, grabbing her arm in a tight grip. “If you’re going to punish me for every single thing the Templars do to the mages, why bother coming at all?”

Evette stared at him, asking herself the same thing. Why was she here? What was she doing, fooling herself into thinking that a Templar truly wanted to be her friend? “This is ridiculous,” she says sadly, pulling her arm away. “I’m sorry, Cullen, I have to go.”

“Evette, please, I—”

“I once told you that we can’t be friends. There’s no balance between us.”

“There can be. I’ll prove it.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How do you intend to do that?”

“Come with me and see.”

Everything in her screamed no, but his eyes were so warm and his hand was outstretched to her like some prince in a storybook. Fool, she thought, slipping her cold, gloved hand into his. You’d do better falling in love with someone like Anders. At least he wouldn’t kill you in the name of Chantry duty.

#fictober20 #dragon age origins #cullen rutherford #templar cullen #female amell #cullen/amell #cullen x amell

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 21

Prompt: This. This makes it all worth it Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Connor Guerrin, Evette Amell Rating: G Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart Read More Fictober

Evette looks out over the lake, her heart light. Below her office balcony she can hear children at play on the green, shouting and laughter that was never allowed when the tower had been known as Kinloch Hold.

Now it was the Ferelden School of Magic, created and supported by the King of Ferelden and utterly ignored by the Chantry.

She had fought two wars for this, had risked her life over and over protecting mages from Templars, had broken her own heart for this. The setting sun was warm on her face, tempting her to let the work on her desk stay undone while she lingered.

“Are you happy?”

There was anxiety in his voice, as if he didn’t know the answer. She smiled, not looking over her shoulder as he came to stand beside her. “Yes, Pup,” she said, clasping his hand. “Are you?”

She could hear his shuddering breath as he looked down. “It was so hard,” he said. “All the fighting and politics. I don’t know how many times we nearly died.”

“And yet?” she asked, a grin growing.

“This.” His hand squeezed hers as the smile broke across his face like a sunrise. “This makes it all worth it. I’m just sorry we lost so many along the way.”

“We gained just as many,” she reminded him, nodding to the children below. “They will live in a world our lost ones built.”

“You aren’t nervous about marrying Alistair tomorrow, are you?”

“Nervous?” she scoffed. “No. I’ve loved him so long, and I don’t have to miss him anymore. Are you worried about it?”

“I’ve never given anyone away before,” he admitted.

Evette put an arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’ll do fine, Pup.”

“How did you ever find the strength to fight?”

So happy she thought she might burst, Evette looks up at him. There’s a tall, handsome young man standing before her, but all she can see is the little boy who rode across the lake with her after the Blight. “You, Pup,” she said. “You gave me something to live for. This,” she said, gesturing to the tower, “is grand and good. But after the Blight, it was all for you. You're my legacy.”

#dragon age origins #post blight #Fictober20 #female amell #connor guerrin

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 3

Prompt: That didn’t stop you before Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Evette Amell and Cullen Rutherford Rating: PG-13- mention of torture, rape, mistreatment of mages Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Evette ignored the whispers the next time they came. She didn’t know how long it had been since Rutherford’s last shift in the dungeons, but she knew she’d slept once and had been given food and a bucket of clean water twice. Whoever had brought her food last time had told her that as long as she stayed quiet and didn’t try anything stupid they wouldn’t put chains on her.

Anders had told her about the chains, and she’d shuddered at even the mention of them.

“Amell.” The whisper came on the heels of a soft clatter of armor— she assumed he’d sat beside the crack in the wall that allowed sound to travel in and out of the enchanted room.

Go away, she thought, clutching her knees to her chest and closing her eyes. If she pretended that he wasn’t real he’d go away.

“Evette, I know you hear me.”

I do not.

“And I know you’re alive because Hern told me he brought you water earlier. Don’t you want to know why you’re here?”

It won’t matter.

She heard a sigh and hoped it meant he’d given up, but inside there was a faint scratching sound. “I guess I’ll just file at this hole, then. Probably make it bigger.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed in a panic. “I’ll get into more trouble if you break the enchantment!”

“So you can hear me,” he chuckled.

“Are you trying to get me killed?”

“No, I just want to talk.”

“Well, you’re going to get me into more trouble.”

Another chuckle. “That didn’t stop you from talking to me before.”

She folded her arms with a sniff, feeling cold begin to radiate from her as her anxiety increased. Soon the room would have a thin layer of ice; if he kept on she’d have to ask to be drained just so she didn’t turn the little cell into a blizzard.

“Stop it.”

“Talk to me.”

You are so annoying, she thought. I can’t believe I ever thought you were cute. “Keep your voice down!”

“I’m the only one down here. How long have you been here?”

Evette rolled her eyes. “Next you’ll want to know my favorite color and if I’ve ever had a cat.”

“Well?”

“Why are you a Templar?”

“I’ve always wanted to be one,” he says. “Ever since I was a child.”

“Have a thing for torturing mages, do you?” she sneered.

“What? I haven’t tortured you!”

“Really?” she asked in an icy tone. “I’m locked in a dark, cold cell for no reason, given only the barest of rations twice a day, and you’ve made it clear that I have to talk to you whether I like it or not. That’s certainly a good start to torture.”

There was a long moment of silence and Evette was starting to think he’d managed to get up and walk away without making any noise. “I...I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Why would you?” she demanded. “You Templars do whatever you want to us and don’t think anything of it!”

“You are here for a reason,” he said softly.

Evette’s blood froze and she was suddenly dizzy in the darkness. “What?” The word leaked out of her on a slow breath.

“Sedition,” he said, his voice flat. “I’m actually supposed to be questioning you about it now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I…” His voice wavered and she heard a small movement from his armor. “I’ve wanted to talk to you a while,” he admits. “Ever since we came across you the night those two escaped. But… you’re always so—”

“Cold?” she offers with a brittle laugh. “Standoffish?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“I’m an ice mage, they’re the right words. Who turned me in?”

“I don’t know.”

The way he said it, too quick and firm, told her it was a lie. “How exactly am I supposed to spread sedition if I’m standoffish and alone?”

“Your friends. The two who escaped.”

Anders and Karl. That must be who they really want. “Escape is not sedition.”

“That’s all I know, Evette.”

“What are you supposed to ask me?”

Another silence, and this time the answer comes through a clenched jaw. “Don’t ask me that.”

They sat quietly for a long while; time meant nothing to Evette here and Rutherford had a long shift ahead of them. “Why did you want to talk to me?” she asked finally, picking at a stiff spot on her robes and doing her best not to wonder what caused it.

“I— ah…” His nervous chuckle confuses her.

“Well?”

“I don’t have many friends, and—”

“You wanted me to be your friend? We can’t be friends, Rutherford.”

“Would you call me Cullen?”

“No.”

“What do you mean, we can’t be friends?”

“You’re literally my jailor,” she reminded him, gesturing to the cell around her even though she couldn’t even see her own hand. “And you’re a Templar. Have you seen the things they do to us? You could decide one day to rape or beat me for fun. I can’t trust you not to tell on me to other Templars—”

“So you are guilty of something.”

Evette bit her lip. “Only of being a mage.”

#fictober20 #Warden amell #mage amell #cullen rutherford #templar cullen

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 14

Prompt: You better leave now Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Anders, Cullen Rutherford Rating: PG-13, mention of non-con, language Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Anders crept down the damp stairs, pressing close to the wall. He’d had to change his robes before anyone in the tower saw him upstairs, but he couldn’t just leave her down there.

Especially not when it was his fault.

He knew it was his fault— it had to be. They’d held the brand too close to his face, asking for… he didn’t know what they’d wanted, but the bastards had put the tranquil brand so close he could feel his skin blister. The slip had come later, when he’d lain in chains and pain had been so great he’d called out her name, desperate for a cooling touch.

They started watching her then, he thought, carefully counting the stairs to make sure he didn’t pass the door. He’d tried to distance himself from Evette, but with Karl gone… He just liked her. Her cold demeanor made him want to make her smile and laugh.

He froze when he heard voices. One of them was Rutherford, the bastard. He’d taken particular pleasure in smiting Anders over and over when he’d been in solitary— he’d not forget that soon. The other had been in Kinloch for a while but didn’t have the stomach for punishment; Vallence wasn’t usually on solitary duty.

Pressed to the wall as close as he could get, Anders held his breath and listened. With a breathless thanks to the Maker, he pulled a small mirror from one of his many pockets and angled it to see around the corner.

“You’re sweet on her!” Vallence said, laughing.

Rutherford rubbed the back of his neck, blushing and trying not to laugh. “She’s pretty, yeah. But she’s a mage.”

“So? That’s the beauty of it, Cullen! You can do what you want with her and she can’t trap you into a marriage. Mages will roll over for just about any little luxury.”

To his credit, Rutherford’s jaw went slack. “You don’t really...do that...do you?”

Vallence laughed harder, leaning against the wall for support. “Sure I do! Didn’t they tell you in training? Those robes can hide a real firecracker, it’d be a shame not to try it out now and then.”

Rage boiled in Anders’ blood and he pushed himself off the wall. “You whoresons think you can just rape whoever you want, don’t you?” he roared, lightning sparking from his fingers. “You put a helpless mage in solitary and tell her the only way out is to fuck you!”

The smite hit like a hammer to the chest, knocking the breath and all sense of magic from him. Rutherford was on Anders in a heartbeat, wrapping a hand around his throat and pinning him to the floor.

“What are you doing down here?” he demanded. “Come to break your friends out?”

Struggling, Anders clawed at the hand around his throat. “Check—” he gasped. “Vette.”

“Aww, he came to see if his girlfriend needed him,” Vallence sneered, sauntering over. “Well, Anders, let me tell you a secret. Cullen here is sweet on Amell, too,” he taunted. “Guess which one of you will have her?”

“Vallence,” Rutherford growled, his amber eyes burning into Anders’. “I think you better leave now. I’ll deal with this.”

#anders #cullen #kinloch hold #solitary confinement #fictober20 #mistreatment of mages #mage circle #dragon age origins #fem amell #female amell

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 12

Prompt: Watch me Fandom: Dragon Age Origins, Mage Origin Characters: Evette, Connor Guerrin Rating: PG Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

“Evette, watch me!”

Evette looked up just in time to see Connor fly through the air, propelled by a force spell directed at the floor. The look on his face was rapturous, but he didn’t seem to realize he was headed straight for a stone column.

“Pup no!” she shouted, dropping her papers and running over, a spell forming in her hands. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was going to do, but she had to do something before he slammed into the stone and broke his neck.

“Stop!” shouted a nearby Templar.

The first smite hit Connor so hard it threw him off course and he flew through the air like a rag doll. The second was a punch to Evette’s stomach, a white-hot burn in her gut, and she stumbled.

She didn’t catch Connor exactly, but he landed on her instead of the cold stone of the practice room. They both fell to the floor like iron through water, a heap of master and apprentice robes. Gasping, she struggles to sit up, clutching the boy to her.

“Pup, are you all right?” she asks, brushing back his coppery hair.

Connor groans and opens his eyes, blinking slowly. “What happened?” he asked, brows knitting together. “Did you hit me?”

“No,” she said, looking up at the Templar strolling toward them with an icy glare. “That was Carroll.”

“Good thing, too,” Carroll said with a smirk as he approached. “You would have hit your little head, mage.”

“I had it under control,” Evette said through clenched teeth. “You didn’t have to throw a smite at us!”

Carroll’s smirk turned into a simpering and utterly false pout. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought there was an untrained mage flying through the air,” he said, kneeling and grabbing Connor by the hair. “I should put you in solitary confinement, boy.”

“No!” Evette gasped, her arms tightening on Connor. “It was my fault, I wasn’t watching him close enough. If someone needs to go, I will.” Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she looked down at Connor. “Willingly.”

Carroll’s face stretched into a grotesque grin. “That’s the spirit, Amell. Come on, then.”

He grabbed her arm in a vice-like grip and yanked her off the floor, causing Connor to tumble out of her lap.

“Evette no!” Connor shouted. “She didn’t do it!”

Evette pulled her shoulders back and shook her head. “Don’t make a fuss, Pup,” she said softly, letting Carroll pull her along. “Tell Neria what’s happened, she’ll see to your lessons.”

“Vette!” Connor screamed, tears streaking down his cheeks.

At the door, Evette dug in her heels, coming to a short stop and forcing Carroll to a halt. “Pup, I’ll be fine,” she said slowly over her shoulder. “Just wait for me.”

#Fictober20 #mage origin #post blight #female amell #f!amell #connor guerrin #templar

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curiousthimble · 4 years

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Fictober Day 10

Prompt: I told you so Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Characters: Jowan, Female Amell, Cullen Rating: G Connected to: Cold Hands, Warm Heart Read Fictober 2020

“Jowan, you’re going to get caught!”

“I won’t if you’ll be quiet!”

Arms crossed over her chest, Evette stood back and watched her idiot friend wave his arms and stumble over the ancient Tevene words. The spell was something he’d seen in a book somewhere and claimed to either find or create hidden doors— he wasn’t sure of the word and wouldn’t show Evette the book.

His arms sketched out the shape of a door with sharp movements. To her amazement, light followed his hands, filling out the shape with brilliance. Fresh, warm air flowed through it for just a moment before the light flickered and went dark. Evette blinked away spots, backing away as the magic door disappeared.

“I’m not going to solitary for you,” she said slowly.

“We won’t,” he said happily. “But I need your help to make it work for real.”

A familiar voice spoke behind them. “What’s this?”

Whirling around, Evette’s stomach clenched, seeing Cullen standing there. He was dressed in his purple and yellow tunic and breeches and not his armor, so he wasn’t on duty. “Rutherford!” she gasped.

He frowned, coming closer and glaring at them. “What is this?” he repeated.

“Jowan was trying a new spell,” Evette said quietly, lowering her eyes.

“Snitch,” Jowan muttered. “Now we’re in trouble.”

“I told you so!” she snapped back.

Cullen stared at them hard for a long moment, and Evette could feel her skin prickling under his gaze. They were roaming the tower in the middle of the night, trying out what was surely a forbidden spell, and now they’d been caught.

“Jowan, right?” Cullen asked. When Jowan nodded, he jerked a thumb to the empty classroom behind him. “Go in there and wait for me. I want to talk to Amell alone.”

Evette kept her eyes down until she heard the door close and Cullen step closer. “I didn’t do anything,” she said softly. “I was only watching. I didn’t think it would work.”

He put a finger under her chin and raised her head to look at him. “I saw. You shouldn’t hang around him, he’s trouble.”

“He’s one of the few friends I have,” Evette admitted.

The look he gives her is warm, a smile hovering at the edges of his mouth. “You have more than you think, Amell. Go to bed and I’ll forget I saw you here.”

“I— You will?” she asked, her silver eyes wide.

The smile blossomed, making him look young and handsome. “Go. I need to put the fear of the Maker into your friend.”

She hurried away, turning back before she disappeared from sight. “Cullen?”

He turned, hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “For this, and for...before. In solitary.”

Cullen’s smile returned, and it made her heart lighter. “I’m not your enemy, Evette. I told you, I want to be your friend.”

#mage origin #jowan #cullen rutherford #templar cullen #fem!amell #f!amell #amell #mage amell

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curiousthimble · 5 years

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It Will Be Fun, Trust Me

Prompt #1: It will be fun, trust me Fanfiction Fandom: Dragon Age Rating: G Characters: Evette Amell, Anders, Karl Connected to Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Evette hesitated, pulling her gloved hand away from Karl’s. “I...I don’t know,” she whispered, glancing around.

Karl gave her his most charming smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he assured her in a hushed voice. “All the Senior Enchanters are asleep.” “Karl, what if-”

“Anders took care of the templars,” he added. “Come on, Vette, it’ll be fun, trust me.”

“Trust you,” she said with a smirk. “Last time I trusted you two, I-” “Vette! You came!” Anders’ whisper was probably louder than he intended, but the warm smile he gave her made her heart leap. “Maker’s breath, you’re pretty tonight,” he added, coming over and kissing her cold cheek. “And refreshingly cool, too!”

“You’re drunk!” she accused, gasping in gleeful shock. “You devil!”

“Hush,” he giggled, drawing out the sound and covering his mouth with a finger. “Don’t want anyone to find us.”

Evette looked from Karl to Anders with one eyebrow raised. “Why did you want me here?” she asked. “To cool your wine?”

“Nah, it’s already pretty cold,” Anders said, showing her his cup of white wine.

“We brought you to plan,” Karl explained, settling himself on an old chair covered with a sheet.

The dungeons were rumored to be haunted, but Evette was starting to realize that the Circle held more drunken apprentices in its depths than ghosts. Karl had dragged her out of bed and all the way down here to the damp, crumbling dungeons to plan? “Plan what?” she asked, pulling her long braid over her shoulder nervously.

“Our escape,” Anders said confidently, sprawled across a sheet-covered sofa like some golden poet in an Orlesian sitting room. He patted the small space next to him invitingly, giving her a smile that doesn’t quite make her cool cheeks warm with a blush.

“You’re planning another one?” she asks, sliding into the spot- and consequently, into his embrace.

“Yes!” Karl says, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile.

“Why? It didn’t work last time.”

Anders toyed with a stray lock of hair resting against her throat. “Well, Vette...This time it will,” he promises. “Because we’re taking you with us.”

#fictober19 #dragon age fanfiction #anders #dragon age origins #fanfiction #karl #mage oc

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curiousthimble · 5 years

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Follow Me, I know the way

Prompt #2: Follow Me, I know the area Fanfiction: Dragon Age Origins Rating: G Characters: Anders, Evette Amell, Cullen Rutherford, Templar OC Vincent Connected to Cold Hands, Warm Heart

“You have to go,” Evette pleaded, her heart racing. “Anders, go!”

“No, not without you!” He grabbed her arm, intent on dragging her if he had to, but she pulled away.

“Anders, please,” she begged. In her panic, frost crept along the sleeves of her robes, thickest at her gloves. “Go, you have to go!”

The templars were coming, she could hear voices echoing off the stone walls. Karl had led them through the dungeons until they found an old, rusted grate that led through the kitchen midden and the docks- where they’d found a merchant ship waiting to smuggle them out.

“They’ve heard us,” she tells him, desperately pushing him toward the ship. The sound of a templar shouting echoed ominously. “They have to find someone, Anders. Please go. Take Karl and go.”

Anders caught her hands and pulled her close, giving her the warmest embrace of her young life. “Thank you,” he whispers, his mouth brushing over her own. “I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

“Don’t.”

They parted, a beautiful blonde boy running for a ship and freedom, an icy black-haired girl throwing herself back through the hole to the dungeons. Evette was glad she was already filthy, it would make whatever story she told a little more believable. Heart racing in fear, she let her panic run free, sending ice splintering through her gloves and coating the walls beside her as she ran toward the sound of templars.

“Help me!” she begged as soon as their torches came into view. “Please, help me, I’ve been-”

The cleansing hit her like a boot to the gut. Evette doubled over, gasping in pain as the unbearable light and heat rolled off the pair. Her chest tightened as her magic drained away, leaving her utterly defenseless. The heat that other mages described was like a brand to one born with ice in their veins, forcing her to her knees and making spots dance in her vision.

“Help,” she repeated weakly, swaying.

A young man- a new one named Rutherford- hurried over, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “What are you doing down here?” he demanded, sheathing his sword.

She looked up into warm amber eyes and swallowed thickly. “Lost,” she explains.

“Here, drink this,” the other templar said, coming closer and handing her his waterskin. It was Vincent Calloway, one of Anders’ tormentors. If Vincent was involved, things could get ugly quickly.

She took a long drink, but it wasn’t water. Instead, her throat burned with whiskey, making her choke and cough and him laugh. Vincent’s always been a bastard, she thought, pushing the skin away with a scowl as he laughed.

“Amell, what are you doing down here? Isn’t your harrowing soon?” he asked, hands on his hips.

“I-I wanted somewhere big and empty to practice,” she lied, her eyes wide and innocent. “Sometime before dinner, but I got lost.”

“The first time you leave the damn library and you get yourself lost down here,” he snarled, grabbing her arm so hard there’ll be bruises in the morning. “You came alone?”

She yelped in pain and tore her arm out of his grasp. “Yes!”

“Are you hurt?” Rutherford asked, helping her to her feet. He was young, handsome, and looked almost as terrified as she felt. “I didn’t mean to cleanse you without warning.”

“Sure you did, Rutherford,” Vincent laughed. The young templar turned a bright red, making Evette wonder if it was the accident he claimed or if Vincent was telling the truth. “You’ve been itching to try it since we taught you how. You’re fine, though, aren’t you girl?”

I’d love nothing more than to freeze him to death right now, she thought venomously, glaring at them. “Fine.”

“See? I told you that pretty face would help,” Vincent laughed and Rutherford turned a deeper shade of scarlet. “If this bitch will lie to make you feel better, I wonder what she’ll do for me?” he asked cruelly, licking his lips.

He walked her backward until she was pressed against the wall, fear and anger swelling in her chest. Vincent ran an overly familiar hand up her ribcage, a perverse grin sliding across his face. “Want to make me feel better, Amell?”

I should have risked it with Anders and Karl.

“I’d rather be drowned in dwarven ale,” she snapped, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as weak and trembling as her knees feel.

She winced and closes her eyes, expecting the blow promised by his pulled-back hand, but it never landed. Opening one eye, Rutherford held his comrade’s arm with a confused expression.

“Ser, I heard something,” he said. “Sounds like another mage down here. Do you want to take a look? I’ll escort her back into the tower.”

Vincent growls at him and turns on his heel. “Fine. The blonde one’s been missing, too. Maybe I’ll finally get that promotion if I catch him this time.”

Evette tries not to cower as Rutherford turns to her again. What’s he going to do? She wondered, desperately searching herself for any wisp of magic. “I…You- you don’t want m-me,” she stammers, backing away. “I’m c-cold to the t-t-touch.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he assures her. “Come on, let’s go back upstairs.”

“But-”

“I’ve done patrol down here for a solid week,” he adds with a nervous smile. “We won’t get lost, just follow me, I know the area.”

#fictober19 #dragon age origins #mage origin #anders #cullen rutherford #amell

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curiousthimble · 5 years

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Listen, I Can’t Explain This

Prompt #10: Listen, I can’t explain this, you’ll have to trust me Fandom: Dragon Age Origins Rating: PG Warnings: Templar Cruelty/ Vague Implication of torture Characters: Evette (OC), Jowan, First Enchanter Irving, Anders Connected to Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Evette watched in cold horror when Anders was dragged through the corridors, the chains on his wrists and ankles clanking loud enough to drown out First Enchanter Irving’s lecture. Like the other students in the class, she was drawn to the door, peering out as Vincent and Greagoir lead him like a dog, crawling on hands and knees with his head hanging.

“Oh Maker,” she breathed, leaning against the door frame. “Anders.”

“Do you know him, Evette?” Jowan asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Evette pulled her eyes away from the bleeding, shuddering wretch passing by and turned to look at him. “Yes,” she said.

“What- really?” he asked, pulling her away and into the corner. “I didn’t think you talked to anyone but me.”

“Don’t touch me,” she reminds him as the hand grabbing her arm was covered in frost.

“Ow! Damn, Evette, do you have to do that?” he muttered.

“Of course I talk to people, you dolt.”

“Apprentices, back to your desks, please,” Irving said stoically. Evette noticed that he never actually looked to the door to see what was happening- he must have known, which mean Greagoir had planned the spectacle to take place when there would be the most apprentices to see.

Obediently, Evette returned to her desk, ignoring Jowan for the remainder of the lecture. “Evette, could you stay a moment?” Enchanter Irving asked as the others filed out. “I won’t keep you long.”

“Yes, First Enchanter,” she said softly, keeping her silver eyes down. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Oh no,” he assured her, leaning back against his desk. “I know there have been rumors about your harrowing,” he began.

Evette looked up, nodding as her stomach flipped. “Yes, sir, there has.”

“Well, put your mind at ease, Miss Amelle,” he said cheerfully. “You’re only sixteen-”

“I’m seventeen, sir,” she corrected. “Last week.”

He chuckled and raised his hands in a pleading gesture. “Forgive me, you’re only seventeen,” he amended. “Focus on your studies and it will happen when you’re ready. Not a moment before.”

Relief flooded her for a moment. Evette nodded and almost turned to go. “First Enchanter?”

“Hm?”

Clutching her book to her chest, she kept her voice cool and even to hide her nervousness. “You didn’t even come to the door when Anders was returned. You knew he was coming back today, and you didn’t stop them.”

For a moment, the old man looks as if he would argue, but then he sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, I did not.”

Steeling herself for her next question, she raised her chin a fraction and fixed him with her unsettling silver eyes. She knew that her gaze often made people uncomfortable- today she would use it to her advantage. “Why not? It was cruel to allow a harrowed mage to be dragged through the tower that way.”

He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Listen, Evette,” he said slowly, “I can’t explain this in any way you will truly understand-”

“Try, First Enchanter,” she urged, hoping he couldn’t hear the desperation in her voice. If the First Enchanter of the Circle wouldn’t save one of his own from such treatment, what could she expect of the rest of the world?

The lines carved into his face became deeper. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to trust me. It seems unkind now, but one day you’ll understand.”

Staring at him, Evette felt a cold knot form in her belly. No, she thought, I don’t think I ever will.