#ferelden intensifies

[daughterofhighever-blog]

Kirkwall, The Gallows - Late Summer, 9:36 Dragon Age...

(Starter for @knightslament)

One more Fereldan in Kirkwall wasn’t a thing that could draw undue attention on its own - and this particular Fereldan had long ago mastered the skill of moving undetected and unapparent in a bustling crowd. It was not yet midday, and the Docks of Kirkwall swarmed with the usual assortment - seedy merchants, greasy sailors, and sweat-drenched labourers…

And not a single one among them suspected that this little slip of a woman, accompanied by an aged - yet still rather spry mabari hound - who ducked and wove her way through them on her way to the Gallows’ Ferry - was a Commander of the Grey, and the Hero of Ferelden. The cloak she wore largely concealed her distinctive Warden’s vestments. The cloth was lightweight and dark blue in color, fastened together at the shoulder with a worn silver pin in the shape of the Cousland Wreath.

Elissa’s sharp blue eyes kept a continual survey of her surroundings, until after the transport boat to the Gallows had put a dozen or more yards of water behind. It was not the first time she had ever been to Kirkwall, but that had been a lifetime ago, or so it felt. She looked at the city with different eyes now, and it was unsettling to say the very least. Something dank and rotten pervaded her senses - itched at the back of her mind and darkened her thoughts. The sensation only intensified the further the boat traveled.

Hakkon’s greyed muzzle dug at her elbow as he huffed and whined, sensing her unease. Clicking her tongue in an endearing chastisement, she gently plucked his snout before rubbing the top of his head and behind his ears.

As the ferryman slung a loose coil of rope around a docking poles at one of the courtyard’s piers, she inwardly shook her head and turned her focus to the task at hand. The practicalities and responsibilities that her position as Commander entailed included the Grey Warden’s ceaseless need for men and women to fight the Darkspawn. That duty had not ended with the death of the Archdemon, and she feared the disturbing contents of Nathaniel’s reports were merely a prelude of what was to come.

Those who were aware of her business in Kirkwall were very few in number - the Grand Cleric, First Enchanter, Knight Commander, and the late Viscount's Seneschal. However none of them knew yet that she’d already arrived the day before. The situation in the city between the Mages and the Chantry’s militant faithful had long walked a very fine line, but the attempted conquest by the Qunari two years before had made an already delicate situation that much more tenuous. Quite simply, personal experience alongside the counsel of her closest companions and advisors concerning Meredith’s… disposition… had led Elissa to believe arriving at the Circle unannounced, early, and as inconspicuously as possible was for the best.

Most unfortunately for Elissa Cousland, she had barely gone twenty paces before her hound caught sight and scent of someone that drew his attention in a most inconvenient manner. Before she could grab his scruff, and with a great WOOF, Hakkon took several galloping strides across the worn stone floor to tackle jump up and slam his paws against the chestplate of an unsuspecting Templar - with a happy, open mouthed, tongue lolling smile on his face.

Chasing after her errant dog with bent back, reaching for his collar and catching it with her fingertips, Elissa skidded to a halt and reared back abruptly when she caught sight of just who it was her mabari had been so eager to greet.

“….fuck!”

Coughing and clearing her throat, she prayed to the Maker for the first time in years that he would not recognize her right away. The Commander barked a harsh command in a language no one in Kirkwall should would have understood, and yanked Hakkon down, trying to avoid looking the taller, curly haired man directly in the eye.

“Forgive me, Ser… My hound forgets his manners in his old age.”

#world state: warden reformation #sub world state: dark origin #verse: because i could not stop for death #knightslament #muse: cullen

[lilyware]

(icons | font)

the hero-queen of ferelden

game: dragon age: origins

age: 33 by inquisition

alignment: lawful good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: heterosexual

hair colour: black

eye colour: green-blue

faceclaim: marina moschen

love interest: alistair theirin

bio: wip

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the champion of kirkwall

game: dragon age ii

age: 29 by inquisition

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: bisexual

hair colour: red

eye colour: green

faceclaim: ?

love interest: fenris

bio: wip

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the herald of andraste

game: dragon age inquisition

age: 26

alignment: lawful good/neutral

gender: male, he/him

sexuality: bisexual

hair colour: brown

eye colour: green

faceclaim: unknown

love interest: cassandra pentaghast (former, separated after she became divine)

bio: the trevelyans, despite originating from antiva, are one of the most prominent noble families of ostwick. because of their strong ties to the chantry, the family does not hesitate to send their children to the circle when they discover the gift of magic. luca felt betrayed when he was sent away at just 12 years old and left on bad terms with his mother, who he was extremely close with. growing up with his father's strong disdain for magic and fearmongering from the templars caused luca to develop a fear of his own magical abilities. luca's mother passes away from illness before luca has a chance to reconcile, intensifying the guilt, fear, and nightmares he already suffered with. before he was even considered to do his harrowing, he begs the templars to make him tranquil so he won't be a threat to anybody, and won't have to further deal with his pain. when kirkwall's circle rebelled, ostwick quickly followed suit, and luca was forced to join the rebels for his own survival. he eventually joins the senior enchanters at the divine conclave as an unbiased voice. when the anchor is accidentally fused with luca's hand, his severed connection with the fade was restored, curing him of his tranquility. after being tranquil for a decade, luca must relearn how to live, how to feel, and how to be a leader, as he's thrust into reverence as the only hope to save thedas.

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future head of house trevelyan

game: dragon age: inquisition

age: 33

alignment: lawful neutral

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: asexual

hair colour: brown

eye colour: brown

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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former rebel mage

game: dragon age: inquisition

age: 31

alignment: chaotic good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: lesbian

hair colour: brown

eye colour: green

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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ex-templar, inquisition agent

game: dragon age: inquisition

age: 28

alignment: true neutral

gender: male, he/him

sexuality: gay

hair colour: brown

eye colour: brown

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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former circle mage

game: dragon age: inquisition

age: 22

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: pansexual

hair colour: brown

eye colour: brown

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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the lone wanderer

game: fallout 3

age: 19

gender: agender, they/them

alignment: true neutral

sexuality: lesbian

hair colour: brown

eye colour: light brown

faceclaim: diana silvers

love interest: amata almodovar (ex, broke up on bad terms after overseer almodovar's death in trouble on the homefront)

bio: wip

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the courier

game: fallout: new vegas

age: 228

alignment: chaotic neutral

gender: nonbinary, she/they

sexuality: bisexual

hair colour: dark brown

eye colour: hazel

faceclaim: maria felix (pre-ghoulification)

bio: wip

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the sole survivor

game: fallout 4

age: 29

alignment: chaotic good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: pansexual

hair colour: black

eye colour: grey

faceclaim: liu wen

love interest: jake evans (ss2)

bio: wip

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the hero of kvatch, the dragonborn

game: elder scrolls iv: oblivion + elder scrolls v: skyrim

age: 20

alignment: lawful good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: lesbian

hair colour: dark brown

eye colour: gold

faceclaim: ?

love interest: serana volkihar

bio: wip

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owner of poppyseed farm

game: stardew valley

age: 22

alignment: neutral good

gender: nonbinary, she/they

sexuality: pansexual

hair colour: pink

eye colour: blue

faceclaim: ?

love interest: shane

bio: wip

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high-elf cleric of kelemvor, grave domain

game: baldur's gate 3

age: 37 (equivalent in elven years)

alignment: lawful neutral

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: ?

hair colour: black

eye colour: grey/black

faceclaim: ?

love interest: astarion

bio: wip

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satyr bard, college of spirits

game: dungeons and dragons (wild beyond the witchlight)

age: 20

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

sexuality: pansexual

hair colour: brown

eye colour: blue

faceclaim: ?

bio: all callie has known is the stage. for as long as she could remember, she has been performing at the witchlight carnival, hoping that one day she can be on the biggest stage in all the realms. she had been so deeply involved in her dream, it never occurred to her that she doesn't quite remember anything that came before. after being tasked to save zybilna, the founder of the witchlight carnival who had gone missing in her realm in the faewilds, callie comes to the realization that she does not remember her family. she had no memories of who she was and anything that occurred before she arrived at the carnival. she discovers, after speaking to a powerful spirit, that her parents had made a deal with endlyn moongrave, one of the hags that overthrew zybilna, so they could conceive a child. when her parents backed out of the deal after calliope was born, all three of them were cursed by the hag. calliope - who was born of pure, now-cursed fae magic, lost all her memories of her family and her identity. her parents were transformed into hideous monsters that still roam the faewilds to this day. callie must now find a way to break this curse without erasing her very being, rescue the parents she never knew, as well as save the realm from the hags that have taken it over.

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half-elf warlock, pact of the tome (fiend)

game: dungeons and dragons (inactive)

age: 10

alignment: chaotic good / chaotic evil...?

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: platinum blonde

eye colour: blue/green heterochromia

faceclaim: ?

bio: growing up, lilith had always had an immense and dangerous fascination with magic, and desperately wanted to learn it for herself. but there is not much a lowly street urchin can do when your main focus is surviving the day in a dirty, corrupt city. despite the hardships, lilith will always try to steal magical trinkets and tomes to try to teach herself magic. perhaps if she was strong enough, she would be able to make enough money for her and her mother to have a real home. however, lilith was caught stealing from a powerful noble, and - in a desperate attempt to save her daughter - lilith's mother takes the blame, resulting in her being cut down before lilith's very eyes. months pass and lilith is suddenly approached by a ghostly voice, claiming to be the spirit of her deceased mother. her mother's spirit says that she returned to watch over her daughter, and will be willing to teach her magic if lilith does what she is told. lilith accepts immediately, and is ecstatic that she is getting to two things she wants the most - her mother, and magic. unbeknownst to lilith, however, this apparition is not her mother. it is instead a fiend, taking advantage of a grieving orphan with a strong desire for magic, in order to manipulate her into doing its bidding. the fiend's goal is to feed lilith so much power that she eventually goes berserk, wreaking as much havoc as possible before she inevitably loses herself to the very magic she longed for.

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vocalist of sakurabu. stage name: dahlia

game: bang dream!

age: 16

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: dark blue

eye colour: light blue

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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guitarist of sakurabu. stage name: rose

game: bang dream!

age: 16

alignment: chaotic good

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: white

eye colour: pink

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

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bassist of sakurabu. stage name: ivy

game: bang dream!

age: 17

alignment: chaotic good

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: brown

eye colour: yellow

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

pinterest board | tumblr tag

drummer of sakurabu. stage name: willow

game: bang dream!

age: 16

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: black

eye colour: green

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

pinterest board | tumblr tag

keyboardist of sakurabu. stage name: iris

game: bang dream!

age: 17

alignment: neutral good

gender: female, she/her

hair colour: lavender

eye colour: silver

faceclaim: ?

bio: wip

pinterest board | tumblr tag

#oc: eloise cousland #oc: eliza hawke #oc: luca trevelyan #oc: caroline parker #oc: gab vasquez #oc: avery zhang #oc: maya artorius #oc: aspen summers #oc: anastasia trevelyan #oc: cecilia trevelyan #oc: leonardo trevelyan #oc: claudia trevelyan #oc: calliope astraea #oc: ghilanna silverhand #oc: lilith #oc: kiyoko 'dahlia' sano #oc: shiori 'rose' tsukiyama #oc: mai 'ivy' nakashima #oc: michiko 'willow' tachibana #oc: nana 'iris' takano

[anderstrevelyan]

No pressure ask: share a detail about Garrett/Anders that you don't feel like you get to talk about enough. (It could be a fluffy headcanon, a fleeting moment, their favorite/least favorite thing about each other, anything goes!)

Ahh thanks for the ask, @mxanigel! I think I want to talk about the importance of names in their relationship, since I think about it a lot and play with it in writing but I feel like I've never fully articulated it?

(This is going to be a bit of an essay with WRITING EXAMPLES, including unpublished ones, apologies/buckle in, I guess)

Anders of course doesn't use his given name, but for Garrett he clings to his—since he was taken to the Circle so young, he doesn't remember a time before, or anything about his family, so for him "Amell" is an anchor, a clue, something that ties him to where he came from and the belonging he longs for. "Garrett," too, as something chosen for him that connects him to his family line (which is why I picked Garrett for him, actually! Since out-of-universe it's a name everyone associates with the Hawkes/Amells for obvious reasons).

This intensifies after the Blight, when he starts to feel buried under the weight of being seen as just the "Hero of Ferelden." He's lonely, he's sad, he's really, really wants someone to see him as Garrett. This is from his first pov chapter in Awakening:

She’s beautiful, he notices, droplets in her lashes and a flush in her cheeks as she steals glances up at him, and maybe he would have tried to flirt back if it were still a few months ago. With his friends gone and his bed unmistakably empty, not even a dog to warm his feet, he’d had no trouble finding companions willing to spend an evening absolutely anywhere else, but—

“I’m sorry, I must sound ridiculous,” Mhairi’s saying with a quick laugh. “It’s just, you’re such a hero.”

He can barely restrain the pinch in his face at the word anymore, that title affixed so strongly it’s all anyone sees. The last man had even forgotten his name, saying with a sheepish grin as he pulled on his trousers, Well, nice to meet you, Hero. He can’t remember the last time someone looked into his eyes and saw him, saw Garrett. Eventually he settled for empty sheets and the company of demons whispering to him each night in the Fade; at least they don’t care about the story—they only want him for his power, and that’s something he’s had a lifetime of practice being reduced to. 

At first, that person isn't Anders. Anders calls him Amell, referring to him that way throughout his pov chapters for quite a while, and that's reflective of distance between them.

(At the same time, he calls himself Garrett throughout his own pov chapters; Jowan calls him Garrett; Irving clearly thinks of him as Garrett, too, referring to him as Amell in a formal classroom setting but casually calling him just Garrett when he's speaking to Anders. When Alistair, who Garrett has a strained, complicated relationship with post-Blight, appears at the start of Awakening, there's a line that makes it clear he used to call him Garrett but now refers to him as Amell.)

But as they grow closer, Garrett works up the nerve to ask him to switch. He's not great at expressing his feelings, so he doesn't articulate why, so it's subtle enough that Anders probably doesn't register this moment as a big deal to him. But that he immediately accepts it and starts calling him Garrett from here on out—that means everything to Garrett. (Also I can't wait to spend more time working on these later chapters, so I can stop flipping back and forth on how he's referred to in-narrative based on whose pov I'm in, but anyway!):

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Garrett sighs. “I hate it when he calls me that.” 

Anders, perched languidly on the uncomfortable bench beside him, looks up from his book. “You mean you’re not lapping up the luxuries of leadership, Amell? I always had you pegged as future First Enchanter.”

“Maker, I never would have said yes to that. I hate politics.” And he really does, he realizes, staring at the work still ahead, suddenly very grateful for the company of the mage by his side. 

“Says the arl!” 

“The very reluctant arl.” He pauses, hesitates, glances over at him. “You can call me Garrett, you know.”

“Okay. Garrett, then.” Anders sets the book down and rests his chin in his hands. “I’m bored, Garrett.”

To Anders, on the other hand, his own name becomes all about choice. Distancing himself from pain in his past—escaping from it. Once they're in a relationship, Garrett doesn't really understand that, since to him his name is who he is, so he's a little worried when he realizes he doesn't know Anders' "real" name.

“Oh, I remember it. I just haven’t said it out loud since…well, you know.”

“Would you ever tell anyone?”

“You mean you.”

“I mean me. I’m just curious. I feel like I know everything else about you.”

“I don’t think so.” He’d normally leave it there, but at the expression that ghosts across Garrett’s face, he finds himself rushing to put it into words. “It started as a way to hold on to something. Something they couldn’t take. If that was still how I felt, I’d…I’d let you hold that, too.” The way Garrett looks at him, eyes a little wide, brings a burn to his cheeks, and he looks away. “But I’m not him anymore.”

“I understand.” And Garrett brings his gaze back, laying a hand on his arm.

He leans in to his touch, but pivots away with his words. Tries to, at least. “Maybe I’ll even get to keep this one. That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

Which brings me to why much further in the future—after Garrett's grown from mourning the family life that was stolen from him to focusing on creating one for himself—it's everything to me when Garrett asks Anders if he wants to be an Amell, too.

That anchor that's always meant the very picture of family to him, an essential part of himself: he's finally getting to share it. And the fact that it's with Anders, who's never retained a name for tradition's sake, that he's choosing to make it his own—makes it all the more meaningful.

#garrett amell #anders #dragon age fanfiction #my writing #on writing #this is a very self-indulgent post I AM LIVING #I never know how obvious this kind of stuff feels in the writing itself so it's fun to lay it all out

[dragonfartart]

DAOctober #12 - Your Hawke | Garrett Hawke aka mr. fereldan dream

#dragon age 2 #da2 #DAOctober #mabari #Garrett Hawke #Purple Hawke #Hawke #SWEAT #fereldan dream #ferelden intensifies #nug the mabari #DOG #DOGGO #old dog #fist bump of friendship #Hawke è leggenda #LA SETE PER HAWKE E' SEMPRE POTENTE #CIT. TUTTI I COMPAGNI DI DA2 #DragonFartArt

[wild-houseplant]

The basics- Rhodri Amell

[id: Rhodri, a Grey Warden (physical description in post) in yellow mage robes, is standing in a Chantry with Templars in the background. She is frowning quizzically, and her mabari, Jeppe, is to her right. The dog has black kaddis on its face and body in stripes. /end id]

I got tagged by @heniareth​, who showed off the super-cool Astala Tabris, and now for my part, I bring a lengthy Rhodri information snippet. Thanks heaps for the tag, friendo! :D :D And now I will tag... @ash-soka, @m-m-m-myysurana, @rlainarin, @atypicalacademic (if you fancy? Maybe Tatiana Amell? or anyone else really; I am madly in love so very many of your OCs), @mango-mage, @icy-warden, @stylographic-blue-rhapsody​ and anyone whose name isn’t here, I still wanna see your OC, I’m just absent-minded! (or maybe a friend you haven’t met? :) ) Go ahead and tag me! :D :D

deets under the cut; this one, like everything I do about Rhod, is long.

Character’s name: Severin Rhodri Amell Callistus (Rhodri to most)

Role in story: Hero of Ferelden, Primary Dickhead (role conferred by yours truly)

Age: 20 when the First Blight begins in 9:30 Dragon 

Physical description:

Rhodri is tallish (for an AFAB who spent the last twelve years underfed), very pale, has grey eyes and short, stick-straight black hair. Her sharp, angular facial features and very muscular physique give her an intimidating and distinctly androgynous appearance. Arched brows, a grecian nose (think Fenris) and frequently forgetting to smile further compound this situation, and give her an extreme case of resting bitch face. She has long, almost spidery fingers and toes, long arms and legs, and, though her large muscles mostly conceal it now, she is slightly bow-legged.

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

Her MBTI type is ENFJ (though she tends to be much more joyful and flippant than the description would suggest). Similarly, her Enneagram type is Type 1- The Reformer.

Internal Life

What is their greatest fear?

After a lifetime of being reminded that she has a ridiculous amount of power over others as a Magister’s heir, along with plenty of stigma for the unintentional but fairly sizeable number of social mistakes she makes, Rhodri lives in terror of causing harm to others-- intentionally, or unintentionally.

Inner motivation:

Her sense of justice. To Rhodri, the act of making things right, maintaining goodness, preventing harm, is to show devotion and care at its highest level.

Kryptonite:

Awareness of suffering. Of others because they deserve better and she needs to fix it; and of her own, because she knows she isn’t allowed to share that sort of thing with others-- cue intensifying feelings of aloneness.

What is their misbelief about the world?

That with the right argument, everyone will be equally ready to do the right thing. I don’t think it ever really goes away properly, maybe reduces slightly to fervent hope.

Lesson they need to learn:

That perhaps not everything her father taught her was correct, even if he said it with all the conviction and good intentions he had.

What is the best thing in their life?

Her loved ones. Easy one.

What is the worst thing in their life?

Being forced to confront horrific things with the expectation that her feelings are kept hidden and take least priority. She finds that hard to cope with at times, particularly when many things that bring her comfort (various stimming things such as rocking) are frowned upon.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Insistence on maintaining unacceptable viewpoints (e.g. racism, magephobia, the idea that harassment is perfectly acceptable, being nasty to Tranquils, children, or any vulnerable person).

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Combining something/someone she likes with enjoyable sensory input, e.g. watching a sunset with a glass of fruit nectar, a lively dance with a friend, rocking in a rocking chair with Zevran draped over her.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

Rhodri’s easy to please, all things considered. No need for gifts or fancy gestures; as she navigates through life, a little bit of gentleness and patience are all it takes for her heart to put down roots. All of her companions are able to do this to a degree, but not quite as well as Zevran, who is replete with both and actively wants the devotion she readily offers in return.

Top three things they value most in life?

People, knowledge, virtuousness. The rest falls into place with those things in balance (according to her).

External Life

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

The schedule Duncan wrote down for her to help her cope during the rough transition from regimented Circle life to unpredictable Grey Warden life. She keeps it for the rest of her life and has transcribed copies of it on the first page of several notebooks as a reminder of his kindness.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom:

Her hair is just long enough to sit in a ponytail, and is often done with a traditional Tevinter undercut, when she can manage it. In keeping with Tevinter standards of modesty (the more you cover, the more you have to lose), she isn’t seen outside the home (or tent/room at the inn) without a robe that covers everything but her head, hands, and toes. Eschewing expensive clothes where she can, the robe is usually simple and black (no such thing in game, unfortunately :( ), and underneath she wears comfortable clothing a plain cotton tunic and breeches. Her boots are a size too large, because tight shoes are sensory hell for her. She keeps her clothing scrupulously clean and tidy, and in good repair.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

By her father: Severissimus (a play on her name, Severin, ‘severissimus’ means, ‘(my) most severe one.’) By any non-Tevinter: Rhodri By any Tevinter: Severin By her siblings (when they are asking her to take them for ice cream etc): Indulgeeeeeentis (used by people affectionately appealing to someone with greater authority, ‘indulgentis’ means, ‘one who indulges me.’) By Alistair: Rhod By Zevran: My Warden, Rhodri, later on: mi Rhodri (’my Rhodri’, her personal favourite), mi sol (’my sun’), amore, my love. A number of offensive names, largely by Templars and snide people. The one she takes particular umbrage to is ‘Tranquil,’ a term used in my worldstate to mock and offend autistic people, as she is firmly against the mistreatment of Tranquil mages.

What is their method of manipulation?

Nonexistent. She is firm and clear about what she wants, and if a suitable compromise isn’t reached, then she takes request elsewhere.

Describe their daily routine:

[The paper is crumpled and yellowing, torn in some corners, but folded neatly. The writing is simple but tidy.] Daily schedule for Rhodri 1. Wake up, attend to body [the writer is referring to hygiene and other self-care], get dressed. 2. Make tea, eat breakfast, discuss the day ahead. 3. Pack up camp, extinguish the fire, and begin travelling. Kill darkspawn as necessary, discuss new skills, make conversation if desired. Hydrate throughout. 4. Brief stop, attend to body, eat. 5. Continue travelling. Kill darkspawn as necessary, discuss new skills, make conversation if desired. Hydrate throughout. 6. Stop, set up camp, collect wood and light campfire, prepare and eat dinner. Review plans, discuss new skills, make conversation if desired. Pursue own interests. 7. Extinguish fire, attend to body, sleep. When we reach a town, we will stay at an inn instead of making camp. They will provide our food, and after breakfast, prior to departure, we will buy more from the market to take with us. You are welcome to ask me questions or come to me at any time of the day or night. Please tell me if you are going somewhere Adjust this as needed. You are doing very well. From Duncan

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

A solution. Finding a way to prevent a repeat of the bad things where possible, to minimise the damage of the inevitable things. That’s enough to turn her mood around, but for Ultimate Comfort to ease the fatigue away, something familiar is always welcome- e.g. an hour to spend on a special interest (usually magic), snuggling up with someone. If it’s been unspeakably bad, she’ll magic herself asleep to avoid a meltdown.

Goals

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

She hates that the life planned out for her is not moving in a linear fashion. She was meant to go to the Circle in Tevinter and live with her family there, but her magic came early and the templars in Kirkwall packed her off to Ferelden. Her mother disappeared; she was about to receive the official appointment of Enchanter in the Fereldan Circle after having been one in every other sense for years, and her transfer to the Minrathous Circle (her father pulled many strings for that) was almost ready when Jowan played on her naïveté and forced her conscription as a Warden. Rhodri was content to come into magehood in her home in Minrathous, be paired off with a nice young man when she was ready, have a brood of estimable offspring, and be the head of House Callistus, eventually representing said house as a Magister. To say there have been bumps in the path is an understatement, and secretly, she is not pleased about it.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

She’s pretty good at finding true happiness or contentment wherever she is, but above all, she wants to be back in Tevinter with her loved ones. The knowledge that her mother had been found alive and (quite) well would have been an enormous relief for her during the Blight, too.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

I mean she could’ve just chucked in the Grey Warden  towel and fucked off home, couldn’t she. Nah, all she needs to do is keep going, get the duty stuff out of the way and get out before any more requests can be piled onto her.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

No fear, just bad timing. Jowan betrayed her. The Darkspawn are bona fide dickheads, and the Archdemon even more so. Then the Darkspawn get smarter and actively plan to overrun orchards and commit murder. Her husband has to go and look death in the eye. The girl can’t get a break.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

She just keeps on as she always does. Rhodri is nothing if not perseverant. How does she get the energy for it, one asks? Zevran subtly gestures at a small heap of smutty letters he has sent her before laughing it off and beginning an hour-long seminar, during which he reads off a list of her finest qualities. At the end of the session, he picks up the pile of letters and waves them indicatively, and is promptly carried out of the room by the recipient of said letters. Rhodri’s face is red. Zevran’s face is shining.

---

#Oh this was a good one Heniareth! Loved doing this #Thank you for another chance to show my twit off to the world #My OC #Rhodri Amell #dragon age: origins #plant writes #and is a nosy bugger please indulge me with your OCs

[imakemywings]

AHhhh I made it in on the last day! Some angst from Hawke, but it has happy ending. @14daysdalovers

Pairing: f!Hawke x Merrill

Theme: “Ask me to stay.”

AO3 | Pillowfort

______________________________________________________

“How you doing, Daisy?” Hawke turned back to look at Merrill, huddled on her pony under so many blankets she resembled more a riding boulder than a person.

              “I’m good.” The feeble response came from somewhere in the depths of the fabric. Hawke slowed her pony until she and Merrill were abreast again.

              “Are you sure?” she asked. “I’m starting to worry it’s not really you under there.” The boulder gave a shudder, and Merrill pushed blankets and hoods back to show her face, her short black hair on end, and tufting up around the points of her ears. Hawke brushed off an urge to smooth it down for her.

              “It’s me,” she said.

              “Sorry about the weather,” Hawke said. “That’s Ferelden.” The sleet that had been falling the last hour seemed to briefly intensify, as if to put force behind Hawke’s words. The road seemed as much puddle as mud, and at times disappeared entirely under a lake of brown, which was to be expected after three straight days of on-and-off precipitation.

              “When it got cold in Kirkwall, it was always dry cold,” Merrill remarked, hugging her blankets around her. “And I don’t remember it getting this cold in the rest of the Free Marches.”

              “Too far north, I guess,” Hawke said. They clopped along in silence, and Hawke nibbled on her lower lip. Bringing Merrill with her after leaving Kirkwall had felt like a decision so obvious it was barely a decision. With the Sabrae gone and Kirkwall in flames, Hawke couldn’t see what was left there—certainly not for her, and not likely for Merrill either. But the journey to Ferelden had been anything but smooth, and it was only when they got back into the country Hawke was forced to admit she had no real plan, besides heading to Denerim. Lothering was still a Blighted wasteland, and she had no family to speak of—whomever the Hawkes had been when her father left Ferelden for Kirkwall, she had no idea who or where they were now, or if they had any interest in the beleaguered offspring of their mage connection.

              Hawke had begun to think it had been selfishness, not logic, that spurred her to drag Merrill to Ferelden with her.

              “I keep hoping we’ll come around a corner and there’ll be a quaint little inn with a fire going and food on the table,” she said.

              “I’m not so sure about that,” Merrill replied.

              You should stop, insisted a voice in Hawke’s head. Stop and do what? she asked it irritably. Sit in the sleet? Maybe Merrill could make them a barrier to keep it off them until it passed, but how long would that take? And Merrill was tired too—it wasn’t fair to expect her to handle everything with magic. It was all Hawke’s fault though, wasn’t it? That Merrill was cold and wet and aimless, stuck in a foreign country, on horseback for days, and she’d left her favorite ring behind in Kirkwall, which was really, in the big picture, Hawke’s fault as well.

              “Hey, look at that…the sleet’s stopped,” Hawke said, the second it was possible to say so.

              “Well that’s something, isn’t it?” Merrill was such a good sport. Merrill shouldn’t have to be a good sport.

              It was the sleet, putting these thoughts in Hawke’s head. Not that blaming herself was outside the ordinary, but the thoughts had been going around in an increasingly vicious cycle for the last three days and it was starting to feel like she’d stumbled into an errant hex.

              “Are you homesick?” It was one of the questions Hawke had not yet dared to ask, because she was too afraid of the answer, but now it tumbled into the quiet like it could no longer be restrained. She’d walk Merrill all the way back to the docks if she wanted, but the idea of setting foot back in Kirkwall made Hawke’s stomach turn, about as much as the idea of traveling Ferelden alone. No, she couldn’t go back to Kirkwall with Merrill—but she also couldn’t keep dragging her across the Ferelden countryside, relying on her misplaced loyalty and foolhardy faith that Hawke had some kind of plan.

              “No.” Merrill’s response was in that way of hers where she seemed surprised to be asked the question at all, because the answer, to her, was so obvious.

              “Oh. I thought, maybe…” You regretted coming with me. It was the reasonable reaction.

              “My home is wherever you are, Hawke,” Merrill said. “I don’t need anything else.”

              Hawke’s pony came to a halt, and Hawke just stared at Merrill, color spreading across her face.

              “Oh.” There was a high breathiness in her voice that sounded unlike her, and the red of Hawke’s face darkened. “Oh.” Come on, say something! Where was that quick, witty, devil-may-care tongue of hers now? “I, uh…well. That’s good to hear, since we may be short of a roof for a while more.”

              “We’ll get through it. Although I wouldn’t say no to a bit of sunshine.” Merrill frowned up at the uncooperatively gray sky, and Hawke shifted her pony closer to Merrill’s. She reached for her partner’s hands, and clasped them between hers. The callouses and half-healed cuts on Merrill’s hands were as familiar to Hawke as her own, and she cradled them gently between her palms.

              “I don’t have magic, but, uh…” She lowered her head and breathed repeatedly over Merrill’s chilled knuckles, feeling her ears burn. Merrill had a way of making Hawke make an absolute idiot of herself with little more than her mere existence. At least Fenris and Isabela weren’t there to laugh (she wished they were).

              “Here, my turn.” Merrill relieved Hawke of her sad little gesture, and clapped her hands over Hawke’s to pulse a small warming spell over their hands.

              “Damn. You win.” A smile twitched at the corner of Hawke’s lips, and Merrill smiled in return as the cold burned away from their hands.

              “It’s not a contest, Hawke.”

              “Isn’t it?” The hint of a smile spread across Hawke’s face, and she looked out at the dripping horizon. “Hey, look at that! Does that look like smoke to you?”

              “That looks like smoke to me,” Merrill agreed, following Hawke’s gaze to the thin, wavering column in the distance. “Maybe it’s that inn you were talking about!”

              “I will buy you the biggest pie they have,” Hawke promised.

              “Only if you’re going to help me eat it,” Merrill replied. “I’d hate for it to go to waste. Oh! Maybe Spots would like some too,” she said, rubbing her pony’s neck. They immediately started up again, heading towards the smoke while Hawke silently prayed to the Maker with every fiber of her being that it was a damned inn.

              “Hawke,” Merrill said after a few minutes, in that way she did before she asked a question, so that Hawke’s name itself became a question. “Are you homesick for Kirkwall?” Hawke looked back at Merrill and shook her head.

              “Of course not. I’ve got you, don’t I?” She hadn’t realized how much the possibility of parting ways with Merrill had been gnawing at her the last few days until it no longer seemed to be an issue. No, she didn’t long for Kirkwall (for the past, perhaps, and what had been there), but it wasn’t until Merrill was gone from her side that she would feel truly lost.

              A shy smile spread across Merrill’s face, and as Hawke faced front to carry on, Merrill spurred her pony forward a few quick steps, so she could lean up and press a kiss to Hawke’s face, only bumping her nose a little bit on Hawke’s ear.

              “Glad that’s settled, then.”  

#14dalovers #merrill #merhawke #hawke #femslash february #theodora hawke #da #daii #rocky writes #merrill x hawke #hawke x merrill #fanfiction #da fanfiction #ask me to stay

[melisusthewee]

Fic - Anchor (Dragon Age) 1/3

Summary: The Exalted Council is where everything goes wrong. Three short stories about a "boon from Andraste" that's slowly trying to kill him, Inquisitor Quinn Trevelyan comes to realize he's not coming back from this one... but maybe that's not such a bad thing. Written as part of the weekly drabble challenge on the DA Subreddit.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairings: Cassandra/Inquisitor but it's only in the background and doesn't show up until the final chapter. It's more of a... former pairing.

Rating: eh... maybe PG at most

Words: 800

Notes: I promised I would start sharing more created content, so here we go.  I was going to start just sharing the little one-off drabbles from reddit, but I finished this three-part series yesterday so I decided to start at the end. Based on the prompt: "You look like you've been to the Void and back." Special thanks to @samuraisaucefrites​ who gifted me with art after reading this when it was originally posted on reddit!

Click the link to read on AO3 or read the rest on tumblr below the cut.

Chapter One: To the Void and Back

Quinn grimaced, his jaw clenched so hard he thought he might shatter his own teeth from the force.  The slightest touch to his arm was agony.  It no longer mattered how long the bandages had been soaking in an elfroot bath.  The balm did nothing.  The anchor was eating away at him, with every slight movement or touch sending sharp blinding pain up his arm.

It was spreading too.  It had been for years, but Quinn had barely noticed in the beginning and by the time he had, it was something he knew he needed to hide from the rest of the world.  No one would follow an Inquisitor whose arm was being consumed by ancient magic.  He had been having enough trouble with Orlais and Ferelden in the weeks leading up to the Exalted Council.  He didn’t need them seeing he - and therefore his Inquisition - was weaker than they already thought it was.

Quinn could still see patches of his arm glowing with the vivid and unsettling light of the anchor.  It used to only be concentrated in his hand, like a lantern sitting in his palm that pulled painfully when he was near a rift but barely noticeable the rest of the time.  But in the months following his encounter with Corypheus, it seemed to glow just a little too bright at times, and what started as a slight twinge in his fingers had slowly begun to intensify and grow until he had realized his arm seemed warped and cracked with the anchor’s corruption nearly up to his elbow.  It made it increasingly difficult to hold his bow steady, but he knew that if it were his right arm he would have been altogether useless.  At least there were some small mercies left in the world.

It was bleeding too.  When he moved, sores split open and wept blood that didn’t quite look right.  It was as if whatever powered the anchor was leaking through.  At first he had worried about infection, but the wounds didn’t smell off - not like they were festering, at least, and so he had continued to keep it to himself.

But the bandages kept having to be changed, and Quinn found he couldn’t always get away quick enough to re-wrap his arm before dark stains would start to blot the sleeve of his coat.  It was the only time he was ever grateful for the colour of the formal uniform he’d been forced into.  He’d sworn after the Empress’ ball that he’d never wear that ridiculous outfit again - “I’m the Inquisitor,” he’d told his advisors, “not First Nutcracker” - but the crimson coat that lay draped over the back of the chair was the only thing helping him successfully hide just how mangled his arm was.

With the bandages tightly wound and secured, Quinn took a moment to rest, concentrating on his breathing as the anchor flared up in irritation at the binding.  It felt like hot fire spreading up his arm and Quinn bit his lip hard, determined not to cry out.  This was Orlais after all, which meant someone was always listening.

After a moment, the anchor died down, reverting instead to a dull glow that pulsed beneath his bandaged hand.  With a resigned sigh, he got to his feet, grabbing his coat and wandering over to the mirror that leaned against the far wall.  For a moment, Quinn hesitated, narrowing his eyes at the looking glass.  With everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure if he could trust that every mirror wasn’t secretly an eluvian.  He tapped the surface and took a step back, waiting to see if it drew a reaction.  But nothing changed.  No ripple, no pulse of magic.  Just his own reflection, staring back at him, half-dressed in a mix of his dress uniform and field gear.

“You look like you’ve been to the Void and back.”  He paused.  “With all this mirror hopping, maybe you have.”

No response.  But of course the mirror wouldn’t speak back.  It was, after all, just a normal mirror.  With a sigh, he straightened up to his full height and began to put his jacket on, trying not to wince every time his fingers stretched and curled as he buttoned up the uniform.

“Good thing this is the last one then, isn’t it?  Death by Viddasala, death by gaatlok, death by the anchor… maybe all three if you’re really lucky.”

At least with him gone there would be one less thing for Orlais and Ferelden to squabble about.  But, Quinn thought, smiling to himself as he left his chambers to attend his advisor’s final council, it would be a shame to die before he’d had the opportunity to punch that blustering loud-mouthed Arl Teagan in his smug Fereldan face.

Next Chapter...

#oc: quinn trevelyan #melis writes stuff #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #trespasser dlc #inquisitor trevelyan

[sinsbymanka]

@tightassets and I have combined our smutty angsty powers to bring you our combined prompts for @cozy-autumn-prompts, brain child of the lovely @scharoux. 

For our first prompt, enjoy this ADORABLE picture of Keaton Hawke and Lilitu Lavellan sharing a blanket for Prompt #3 (also join me in ooh’ing and ahh’ing over the rain effect and Lilitu and Keaton’s PERFECT expressions).

And as always, art has inspired fic! Special shoutout here for @solas-disapproves for helping me translate some Elvhen because I’m hopeless and @jennserr for the amazing translation trick on AO3!

Title: You Smell Like Wet Dog Pairing: Male Hawke x Female Lavellan, Keaton Hawke x Lilitu Lavellan Rating: M Content Warnings:  Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Flirting, Pining, Past Anders/Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Sexual Tension

Read on AO3

Keaton was beginning to realize his memories of Ferelden may have been tinged with just the slightest whiff of nostalgia. 

Sure, there were definitely things to admire. First and foremost,there were more dogs and fewer Orlesians, always a plus. Unfortunately, a solid ninety-five percent of his stay in Crestwood had consisted of scraping mud out of his boots, an overall minus. Add in the lakes full of cursed undead he somehow missed as a child, and he’d have to readjust his thinking about his homeland. Add in Varric’s unbearable snoring, the rain dripping through a small hole in their shared canvas tent, and the smell of charred human flesh, and Keaton Hawke had quite enough of this visit .

As if the dwarf heard him, the rumble in the tent only intensified. Keaton threw his forearm over his eyes and grit his teeth together. Sweet Andraste’s blushing asscheeks. At least Keaton finally knew the real reason Varric’s prime lady friend was a weapon of mass destruction. Any flesh and blood woman would have smothered him. 

Not that Keaton would have blamed them. If he had a real pi llow, he may have done it himself. 

For a blissful moment, the constant noise ceased. Keaton closed his eyes and tried to will himself to fall asleep. He was exhausted, his shoulder ached, and-

The rumble started up again almost on cue, loud as a pride demon trapped inside with them. Keaton flung his arm from his face, turned his head to glare at the dwarf, and promptly had a fat drop of water plop in his eyeball.

Well. So much for sleeping here. Maybe he’d go find one of those charming caves full of giant spiders and take his chances of getting eaten alive. 

Keaton didn’t bother to muffle the noise his hasty departure from the tent made, but his blighted best friend snored peacefully through all of it. When he dove out through the tent flap and into the freezing rain, Keaton fought the urge to grab his sword and slash the canvas right over Varric’s annoying face. 

He honestly may have done it anyway, self-control had never been his strong suit, but before he could weigh the pros and cons of listening to Varric’s complaints about a ruined tent the whole way back to Skyhold, something much more interesting caught his attention. 

Perhaps one of the few truly good things about being stuck in the soggy Ferelden countryside. 

The Inquisitor glowed in the firelight. Keaton swore he heard her humming even in the steady patter of the rain. The song sounded half familiar, something Keaton swore he’d heard before. 

Then Inquisitor Lilitu Lavellan tossed her moonlight pale hair over her shoulder and looked behind her towards the tent. Almost instantly her nose popped into the air like a hound scenting trouble, her brow furrowing. 

“What are you doing?” She demanded. 

Excellent question. One that probably demanded a semi-coherent answer. 

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and gave her the sunniest smile he could manage while the rain was plastering his hair to his face. “We were comparing chest hair and I was coming out the obvious winner, so now I’ve got to find another tent.” 

Lilitu blinked once. Twice. Then she shook her head and scowled. 

“You’ll get wet.” 

“Wet.” Keaton repeated. Lilitu huffed in irritation and pointed at the sky above them as if to illustrate it was indeed raining and that would be responsible for getting them wet. 

Although the little pout twisting her lips made him think of much more delightful ways to get her wet than the blighted Ferelden weather. If only his current tent wasn’t occupied by the loudest and most annoying dwarf he’d ever met. 

Before he could begin calculating alternate arrangements, Lilitu stalked away from the fire and straight towards him. One small hand, not even wide enough to wrap the whole way around his wrist, dug into bicep and dragged him forward with surprising strength and astonishing impatience. 

...was it wrong to be impressed, terrified, and aroused by the tiny elf manhandling him? 

Before he could consider the full implications of that thought, she dragged him to the log she’d been sitting on, pointing at it before issuing her command. “Sit.” 

He didn’t see how that was going to help him be less wet, but who was he to deny the Inquisitor herself. Particularly when she wore an expression that managed to be both stern and utterly adorable under the curling crimson ink of her vallaslin. He tossed the tiny elf a sunny grin and plopped himself down on her log. 

Which was exactly when he realized what a clever little set up she had. Surrounding the log was a pocket of warm, blissfully dry air. Before he could even process his shock at the sheer neatness of her trick, she settled herself beside him with a little hum, looking up at him while she picked up the blanket she’d abandoned to retrieve him. 

Then her nose wrinkled and she sniffed audibly. “Ma odhe irmes dhar.”

Had… had she just told him he smelled like a wet dog? 

“Ahn?” He sputtered. 

Her whole face lit up like Satinalia had come early. “Dirthas Elvhen?” 

Keaton smirked and nodded. “Dirthan.” 

He may have spoke Elvhen, but he wasn’t prepared for the torrent of words that flew from Lilitu’s lips as she leaned closer. He caught bits and pieces of words. Champion. Kirkwall. Something about a dragon. 

Ah. Varric’s name. Somebody had been telling stories about him again. 

“Dirtha felas’el!” He laughed, running his hand through the soaked stripe of hair on his head. “I’ll answer your questions, kitten, but you gotta slow down.” 

That seemed to please her quite a bit judging by the satisfied smirk playing around her sinful lips. She fluffed the blankets in her hand before flapping it in the air with a deft flick of her wrist. 

Then those same clever fingers were tossing half the blanket over his shoulders while her curvy form pressed firmly against his side and the other half of the blanket draped over her. Lilitu’s pointed chin tipped up expectantly, and for a dizzying moment, Keaton almost thought she’d lay her head against his arm. 

“Dirth ma.” She insisted, poking his muscled arm. “The dragon.” 

“Which one?” Keaton asked. 

Her eyes shimmered with joy. “All of them.” 

Keaton scratched at his beard thoughtfully while she examined him with her bright, inquisitive gaze. Her eyes glowed and his heart throbbed almost painfully, a feeling he didn’t quite understand.

One he very much didn’t want to understand. 

He tore his eyes from her to look at the fire, rolling his stiff shoulder, trying to think of where to start his pitiful story. 

“It hurts?” Lilitu asked, jabbing her finger into his bicep. He frowned, drawn back into her alluring orbit. 

“Only when I’m displaying manly feats of strength for your enjoyment.” 

The flirting still came easy, even after everything. Lilitu rolled her eyes to the dark sky, smile tugging her lips up, thin fingers trailing thoughtfully up over his loose cotton shirt before she dug her grip into his aching shoulder. 

Before he could complain, warmth trickled from her fingers, seeping into his abused muscles, easing the tightness, numbing the pain. It felt familiar, and different at the same time, bringing back a haunting echo of different hands at the same time a wave of heat settled into his gut. 

“Better?” Lilitu asked, eying him critically. 

It was. It would be. “You’re handy, kitten. I’ll give you that.” 

Was it just him, or did she let her hand linger just a moment, exploring the breadth of his muscles before she removed it with heat lingering in the expression she wore? 

Keaton didn’t know the answer to that question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Maker’s ass, was he in trouble. 

He took a deep breath while Lilitu settled herself beside him, leaning lightly into him. 

“Tell me.” She demanded, relaxing beside him, staring into the flickering flames with an expression of great satisfaction. As if she’d rather be nowhere else than their little bubble, silent but for the rain around them. 

Suspiciously silent, in fact. Keaton shot a chagrined look at the tent behind him. That dwarven bastard had planned this. Somehow. And Keaton would pay him back for it in spades. 

After he finished impressing Lilitu Lavellan with all the dragons he slayed. 

Elvhen Translation:

Ahn - what

Dirthas elvhen - you speak elvhen? 

Dirthan - I speak it. 

Dirtha felas’el - speak slower 

Dirth ma - tell me

#CO-ZAutumn #dragonage #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #TightAssets #tightassets art #male hawke x female lavellan #keaton hawke #lilitu lavellan #sharing a blanket #varric tethras and hawke friendship

[ofgoodmenarchive]

The fifth in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian.

Saving Time

  “What were you thinking!-” Dorian punctuated his statement by kicking the rarely-used cooking pot. It soared through the murk of their cave and barely missed his shadow- ducking with a hiss.

  “You- under-handed!- Witless!-” He struggled for words, fists clenching and unclenching. “Vile! Stupid!”

Lacking more projectiles, Dorian couldn't restrain his hands from tossing fire. Granted, none of the flares could harm the demon- their bond nullified any damage either might attempt. Still, it gratified him somewhat to observe the instinctive floundering.

  “I told you to leave it to me!” He berated without reserve, merciless even as his living silhouette coiled, openly sulking against the rugged stone.

  “Were you trying to scare him off?! Because that's all you'll do- or did you forget?! Did we not already have this exact discussion?!”

Not responding directly, it instead deflated into itself with a pitiful wheeze. Yet Dorian understood- he had after all, been privy to the basics of it's exchange with Lavellan- though lacking much detail. He thusly responded, still incensed;

  “Well, what were you expecting?! He wasn't even prepared!- You didn't give me time to warn him! You're lucky you didn't scare him to death- no, more than that! You're lucky he didn't send his people to raze the bloody hillside!”

His shadow echoed this dismay- though more pathetically. Tossing it's head back with an inhuman but somehow childish wail. Desire communicated it's own distress and feelings of rejection like a kicked feline.

  “STOP THAT! STOP YOWLING!” Dorian ordered, feet-stamping in his impatience. “I-once-again-must-ask-you- WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING?!”

Finally choosing to answer, Desire waved it's arms in a show of upset defeat.

  “Name!- His name!”

  “WHAT ABOUT HIS BLOODY NAME?!”

Hunching in surrender- as if realising, to some extent, how foolish it's thinking was- Desire grumbled.

  “If his name is ours....then he is ours...”

  “WHAT?!” His confusion and outrage intensified. “Are you stupid?! THAT'S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!”

It shooed him off with a growl, arms folding impetuously

  “....He is Dalish- 'Eldest Lavellan'...It works that way.”

  “Stop it!” Kicking pebbles, Dorian continued to scold. “Stop looking into his mind! Stop thinking you know what you're doing!- Just STOP!”

His shadow shrank into the corner, glowering but unable to think of an argument. Lavellan after all, hadn't given the creature his name- whatever notions it had of promptly 'claiming' the elf had been dashed. That being the case...

...It was visibly quite depressed.

  “Oh, Maker, don't be like that...” The mage awkwardly consoled. “You're just...we're just...a bit much, don't you see? You should know this by now! It's just....how it is, alright? Nothing to sulk about...”

Yet the being would sulk and Dorian would find himself punctured by it's anguish. Irritated by this more than anything, he paced, muttering...

  “For the love of Andraste...don't grieve over one bloody man like this- it's really not becoming...”

Desire peeked at him but clearly dismissed this advice, remaining in it's forlorn huddle. Seeing no choice but to switch tactics, he sat alongside the creature, sighing empathetically.

  “...Maybe it's not so bad!” He offered, attempting to convince himself while speaking. “He hasn't sent anyone after us, or anything...I'll speak to him, alright? I'll apologise for your awfully uncouth behaviour, and explain that you are quite harmless. You've just gained something of a, uh...fascination...”

His shadow pouted at him, wordless.

  “...If we hadn't already invested so much time...I'd say abandoning this 'fascination' would benefit you more than pursuing it...”

The creature's eyes narrowed in obvious displeasure.

  “Well...that's sort of my point,” Dorian said with a laugh, gesturing at it's pinched face. “Since when are you so picky?”

Snarling, it slumped with more exaggeration, not dignifying this statement with a response.

  “Fine, fine...” Dorian stood, rolling his eyes. “...Let's scent out Lunis' trail then, no? Hopefully our Herald can spare us a moment between rounding up lyrium-smugglers, and trying to end a bloody war...”

Energised by this plan, Desire hopped up, teeth gleaming cheerfully through the dark shroud that always lingered.

--

They were nearing Redcliffe when Dorian abruptly lost track of the minion's presence.

This was concerning for many reasons. Mainly it concerned him because he knew very well who had settled at the castle.

Alexius and his Venatori. People who likely considered Dorian a traitor or lost to the wilderness- depending on what information had been acquired in regard to his movements.

As he approached the gated courtyard, aiming to meet Alexius somewhere inside, he became doubly unnerved. If Lunis had been struck down, he should feel nothing of the beast. Yet the impression hadn't simply vanished- it had scattered. His senses judged Lunis to be everywhere, yet nowhere definable.

By then he had a theory- but only speaking with Alexius would give true insight.

No one stopped Dorian as he sauntered through the castle, though cultists who recognised him shot doubtful glances. Since they weren't attacking on sight, he assumed they knew little of what exactly had occupied the renegade.

He met Alexius in the throne room; relaxed upon its ornate chair, snickering with one of his inferiors.

  “...It will be rather interesting to see when the poor fool will reappear, in any case.”

Catching the tail-end of this conversation, Dorian strode forth, beaming as if nothing were amiss. While approaching he noted a dark, sooty stain upon the floor, briefly disturbing his internal map. Now his being was convinced Lunis' energy was somehow caught in the damn tiles.

Very quickly, Dorian pieced the scene together.

  “If you were inviting the Inquisition for a party, you should have sent for me!” He bantered, acting oblivious towards Alexius' calculating stare.

  “Were you not instructed to observe the Rifts?” The older mage knit his brow. “Yet my people have heard nothing of you- now here you are...without any of the instruments you departed with.”

None of this caused Dorian's smile to falter. If anything it widened, shrugging simply as he stated-

  “I lost it.”

  “You...lost it? You 'lost' a whole bag of equipment?” Alexius' features hardened but Dorian merely laughed.

  “I don't know if you've noticed...but the Ferelden countryside is somewhat of a mess between the Inquisition, demons, Templars, rebel mages...and us, of course.”

  “...Of course...” Though he didn't relent completely- eyes squinting. “...And I suppose in all this mayhem, you managed to find some...distraction...completely unrelated to the task you were to be compensated for?”

The implication and disgust was palpable- and not totally incorrect. Dorian at least considered himself fortunate that Alexius seemed ignorant to who had 'distracted' the maleficar.

  “You know me too well!” He chuckled heartily, displaying no shame.

Scoffing at this, Alexius grumbled;

  “We won't be paying you for a job you failed to accomplish, I hope you realise...”

  “I thought as much, yes.” Yet he would stand there, smiling foolishly and expectantly until Alexius growled and began once more to lecture;

  “We can still make use of you...but your incompetence thus far, Dorian, has been noted. Rest assured that if matters here hadn't concluded to our satisfaction...I would not be suffering your presence in this moment.”

  “How kind of you, Alexius!” Dorian chimed with mirth, needling lightly into the topic. “And how did things here conclude to 'our satisfaction'? From the looks of it, all you've done is burn a hole through the poor Arl's floor...”

He'd hoped the arrogance of the man would lure him into relinquishing details- and was glad to see himself correct.

  “That fool 'Herald'...” Alexius guffawed, gesturing to the charred tiles. “...as you'd expect from a fraud, he has not the tiniest grasp of the forces he meddles with. I flung him out of time- along with that...repulsive mutt of his...”

Dorian's mouth twitched- he willed it to remain smiling.

However, Alexius' gaze narrowed.

  “...Quite strange, really. The creature resembled one of yours.”

  “One of mine?” He cackled as sincerely as possible- a trained mannerism. “Oh yes, I'm sure the Southern Chantry would love to have one of my abominable little minions running around! Surely the Herald of Andraste, with his Dalish heritage, would adore such a gift from a Tevinter blood mage!”

That appeared to quell Alexius' assumptions for now- he leant back into his usurped throne, scowling.

  “Point taken...but your ongoing absence is unacceptable, regardless. For the time being, I expect you to remain in Redcliffe- until we think of how you can be of actual use.”

  “But of course!” Dorian accepted with a melodramatic bow. “I only live to serve, Magister Alexius!”

Unimpressed by this show, Alexius dismissed him with a noise of disgust.

  “Out of my sight now...I would like to savour this victory, without your foolish remarks...”

Back turned on Alexius and his Venatori, Dorian's ever-present smile morphed into a sneer.

--

He wouldn't act until nightfall.

With the Herald's supposed removal, the Venatori were lulled into a sense of security- a false one, if Dorian would have anything to say about it. Alexius' research into magical time shifts wasn't news to him- but he'd have to act immediately for any hope of success.

Who even knew what Lavellan was being pit up against- weeks or months into an undoubtedly chaotic future?

The first step would be to retrieve Alexius' amulet- with that, he'd be capable of triangulating Lunis' exact place and time. That accomplished, all he'd have to do is locate the Herald and bring him home.

For any other mage, swiping the amulet in itself would be a complication. For Dorian, it was as simple as recruiting a little friend. Lounging in the courtyard beneath glaring twin moons, he waited for the wily rat to return.

It soon did so, squeaking and scrabbling- as it was a literal rat. Albeit one with an adorable, miniscule skull for a head. Loping from one sill to the other, soon it was clambering down rough brick, plopping onto Dorian's shoulder with an accompanying jangle.

  “Took you long enough!” He jested, unburdening the rodent of its spoils. “Perfectly done, though! I doubt anyone even noticed.”

Emitting many a pleased squeal, his furry friend pounced into his hood, rolling comfortably.

  “Well...you can go back to sleep, or you can stay here, it's really up to...” There was no reason to finish- predictably, his minion wished to slumber until its services were called upon. It would become something of a fossil once the wisp floated into the Fade- a strange ornament that most wouldn't think twice about. Not the only grim trinket one might find on his person, either.

Initial steps fulfilled, Dorian fled from the village, knowing he would never be welcomed back.

--

Tracking Lunis' precise time-space took longer than Dorian would have liked.

A week- perhaps two? It was difficult to count the days between the spreading of Rifts, constant clashes between Venatori and Inquisition, and of course the Venatori's pursuit of himself.

Much of it involved working within the Fade, utilising the amulet as a beacon. Outside of the Fade, he roamed and hunted, following whatever signs- mundane or otherwise- that led to the place part of where he meant to travel.

The time part was more tricky- but Dorian was sure he'd pinned it down- the exact location, in the exact time-shift.

For reasons he couldn't hazard, Lavellan and Lunis had been taken to the other side of the Hinterlands, where there was an old fort. Currently held by Inquisition- that must not be so in whatever future the Herald occupied.

Dorian situated himself outside the fort, far enough to be unnoticed but close enough to reach in a short sprint. Once he jumped through, after all, he could waste no...well, time.

Fiddling with the amulet, he ensured none of his calculations were off, breathing deep, muffling stress...

Travelling through time was not a usual experience for him...

Truthfully, if the Herald wasn't so clearly integral to the success of the Inquisition, he wouldn't be fool enough to attempt such a thing. It was all a bit much just to save and impress some bloody man!

However by some ridiculous twist of fate...Dorian was the singular person able to retrieve the Inquisition's Herald. He supposed then, it was fortunate for both he and all of Thedas, that he just so happened to rather like the damn fool...

While Dorian pondered and probed the amulet he was aware of his shadow- watching him, intent...

  “...Alright, listen...” Exhaling, he met Desire's gaze. “...Where we're headed, this Breach nonsense will be out of control- so just...try to remember...”

Struggling to think of what he wanted the creature to remember, Dorian rubbed his forehead. Deciding on words, he looked his shadow square in the eye and dictated-

  “Fuck the Fade. Fuck it's endless knowledge. Fuck Corypheus. Fuck the Venatori. Fuck everything that isn't you and me! That's how it's always been! You'll remember that, won't you...?”

Blinking at him, apparently baffled by this lack of confidence, Desire answered with a firm nod.

  “...Alright...” Inhaling, Dorian stretched the amulet before him. “I'm trusting you, old friend.”

With a muttered incantation, green swirls of fire possessed the object and his attached arm, gathering until they formed a tear in existence itself.

Mustering all the courage available to him, Dorian stepped through.

Into a world of pure, hellish mayhem.

There was no longer a single Breach and various Rifts- the sky was consumed by Breach, the land littered in demons and Rifts. The quaint Ferelden countryside was strewn with months-old carnage, and not a moment seemed to go by without a roar, a scream, a distant explosion.

  “Andraste's-flaming-tits.” He uttered witlessly, briefly unable to do anything but behold the chaos. Alongside him he could feel Desire fluttering, panicked. It didn't like this future anymore than he did- and must have felt vulnerable and exposed, with the Fade and reality mashed together.

  “Yes, I know, just-” Before he could finish, Dorian was overwhelmed by an internal sensation of tearing and burning. Though he didn't panic- Desire was simply escaping as far from the Breach as possible, into it's bound vessel.

  “GARGH! FOR THE LOVE OF-” He didn't panic but he would complain! “I hate when you do that!”

If someone else were present, they would have noticed the hint of crimson overtake his eyes, pupils becoming snake-like. Hardly a concern right now- who was around to judge? Besides, Desire's manner of seeing would be of use. Finding Lunis and Lavellan would be effortless with the combination of his bond to the wolf, and his shadow's penchant for identifying auras.

  “On with it, then!” Steeling himself, he progressed towards the fort- no Inquisition banners now, obviously. No banners at all, actually.

Someone had helpfully scrawled over the parapets in blood, but Dorian didn't count that.

There was no alarm at his approach, he raced through the smashed portcullis and into a courtyard without problem. By now, he supposed there wasn't a large force defending the structure, down to whatever skeleton crew was necessary to control Lavellan.

  ...Come to think of it- why are they bothering to keep him alive?

Not just the Herald but also Lunis...

This epiphany filled Dorian with foreboding but he didn't have to suffer in ignorance for long. Passing a row of wooden holdings- animal-pens, it looked like- a familiar presence called to him, soon accompanied by frantic scrapes, bangs and strange rumbles...

That would be the dog, then.

Rushing to the wobbling door, he wrestled off the latch and was instantly tackled by a ton of muscle and fur, topped off by a wilting flame.

  “Yes-yes-I'm happy to see you too!” He assured the canine, wrangling it off him. “But where's your master- where's Lavellan?!”

Obediently plopping at his heels, Lunis sat with tail drooped and shoulders low, offering a responsive whine.

  “Yes, just hold still..” Dorian guided, kneeling before the minion. “I'll take a look...”

A hand placed on the nape of Lunis' stitched neck, he delved into the creature's memory...

  Separated from Master. Blood. Yelling. Sprinting over corpses.

  Bad people. Smell bad. All have that smell. Death. Despair.

  Master's voice- angry, yelling.

  Running towards it. Want to help Master!

  Grabbed! Too many hands! Snarling- ANGRY!- Master yelling- “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

  Laughter. Unkind. Talking. Death-smells.

  Master is not fighting anymore. He throws his weapon to the ground.

  They take him away.

  I HOWL I YELL I FIGHT.

  BUT THEY TOOK HIM AWAY.

  Throw me in the dark. I howl. No one replies. I howl. No one replies.

  Master is yelling again. It is not angry yelling. Master is in pain.

  I howl. I ram the door. I FIGHT. I AM ANGRY.

  They will not let me out. I cannot get out.

  I CANNOT HELP HIM.

  Yelling stops. Door opens- it is Master!

  He is happy to see me. I am happy to see him!

  But he is hurt. Arm stinks of blood and death. I whine. I want to clean it.

  Laughs at me. Calls me a good boy. Tells me not to whine. Hugs me with one arm.

  Calls me a good boy. I try to clean his arm. He laughs at me, hugs me. Laughter turns into crying.

  Hugs me once more. Tells me to be good.

  They take him away again.

  They keep taking him away.

Dorian emerged from the desperate vision with a gasp, sickened and panicked to his core- and just slightly irate...

  “...They're using you to keep him subdued?! That's why they didn't just kill you?!- They're trying to remove the mark! And you're the only mechanism of control they have over him...” His mouth twitched, almost wincing. “That...that bloody sentimental idiot! Doesn't he realise you're not actually a dog?! He might have found his way back by now if it weren't for you!”

  If it weren't for me.

  If I hadn't given him this stupid gift!

Before him, Lunis whined, descending to hide against his front paws.

  “Shh, it's fine..” Dorian patted fur absently, glancing around. “...Stay here, alright? I don't want anyone noticing me...I'll find him, and then we'll all go home, yes?”

Lunis had just enough cheer and stamina to lightly wave his tail, signalling obedience.

  “That's a good boy...I'll be right back- with your master!”

He sealed the pen in an effort to avoid detection, then charged inside. By this point he was thankful for Desire's cowardice. Whilst bound in this fashion, hunting down Lavellan was a simple matter of rifling through energies. Dorian supposed he should be thankful for the demon's lecherous nature. It's recent contact with the Herald caused his aura to shine prominently, even weak and broken from torment.

Somewhere on the lower levels- smaller energies around him. Apparently someone thought it amusing to throw their Dalish prisoner in with the hounds.

Outrage flooded him upon this discovery- especially from Desire. As far as the demon was concerned, Lavellan was already theirs. To have something of 'theirs' treated with such blatant disrespect- regarded as a beast- it sent his shadow wild. He could barely keep a lid on the fury.

  “Listen...” Dorian ground out, descending stairs. “...You need to keep your head on straight, friend! He's alive- and we're going to get him out of here. So just...focus on that.”

Together they attempted to do just that, while lurking the lower cells in search of Lavellan...

--

They'd tossed him into a cell at the very back. Dorian heard the restful wheeze of a dog-pack before any sound or sight from Lavellan. The cell lock was worthless- easily melted with a fistful of fire.

  “Hello...? Herald...?” He inquired very quietly, skulking into the damp cell, disturbing piles of hay. A few canines grunted but didn't seem able to differentiate him from every other loudly dressed Tevinter.

  “DIE, VENATORI SCUM!” Lavellan also seemed unable to differentiate- before Dorian knew what was happening, his back was shoved against a wall, a blunt knife wavering against his throat.

  “Oh!- you're out of your chains!-” He giggled somewhat nervously “And you found a knife!”

  “AND I WILL GUT YOU WITH IT!- TEVINTER PIG!”

Rusted metal pressed against Dorian's jugular, the seriousness of Lavellan's threats striking him all at once-

  “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT! Look- it's ME!- Dorian Pavus- remember?!”

Wild eyes fixed upon his, brimming with confusion and hatred. The Herald was exactly in the sort of state you'd expect- clothes ragged, soaked in blood and filth, hair a crazed mane, features exhausted. His right arm was heavily bandaged- he held the knife in his left, as correctly as he could manage.

  “You are with them!” He hissed- but thankfully seemed hesitant. “You were mentioned by name!”

  “But you haven't actually seen me with any of them- have you?!” Dorian struggled, reaching for every detail he could find. “If they have mentioned me- it's probably as an incompetent fool who never does his job, no?!”

A glimmer of doubt passed over Lavellan's expression- but again his knife-grip firmed.

  “How do you expect me to believe that?!”

  “I brought you Lunis, didn't I?!” He spluttered- at a loss. “And he's a good boy, isn't he?!”

Something in the Herald's face appeared to crumble, eyes watering, mouth wincing.

  “Yes- he- he is a good boy...” He admitted in a whimper, still toying with the blade.

  “Yes- exactly! He's a good boy! And I gave him to you- to find you- remember?! And look- I found you! Just as I said I would!”

  “...He...” Gasping slowly, Lavellan stumbled back, repeating as if unsure of his words. “...He is a good boy. That is true...”

All at once he flopped against the wall, leaning there tiredly while a nearby hound sniffed at the noise. Most of them seemed to ignore it- Dorian supposed they'd been privy to a lot of shouting. Either that, or he was so focused on the knife at his throat that he didn't register their howls.

  “How did you...even get that?” He questioned, pointing to the blade.

Lavellan fumbled with it, lazily explaining...

  “They made me sleep with the hounds. I taught one to fetch.”

  “And the...chains?” This time, he pointed to the split shackles bound to his wrists.

  “I froze one link. Gradually.” Lifting his arms, he feigned yanking them apart. “Like firewood.”

For a while Dorian regarded him in stunned silence. He'd meant to save the poor fool- but he was already half-way to saving himself. Still, he was in such a state...he couldn't get far on his own, could he?

Even so...he was more than a little impressed by the elf's tenacity.

  “All of that...must have taken a while.” He observed with a frown, wondering how long Lavellan had suffered this fate- passage of time between the two worlds was clearly not identical. For all Dorian knew, he could have been here months...

  “I did not keep track.” Lavellan said with a lame shrug- before his eyes suddenly sparked. “Guards- they are in mid-change? You saw no one? No one stopped you?” “What? I...I really couldn't say. I didn't see anyone, but-”

Disinterested in further explanation, the Herald burst from his cell, weapon in hand. He proceeded to storm through the halls, Dorian desperately trying to match his pace. He resisted calling out, not wanting to attract attention to either of them.

  Maker!

  He's bloody fast for someone who so clearly needs medical attention!

Lavellan rounded a corner and within milliseconds Dorian heard an absolutely terrified-

  “OH SHIT!- OH SHIT!- WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-STOP!-PLEASE-”

Followed by a wet splat- a scream- a gurgle.

Upon reaching the noise, Dorian was faced by more or less what he'd mentally prepared for. The Herald had bowled into some unsuspecting Venatori guard, proceeding to messily tear them asunder with an implement far too worn for such butchery. It was a vicious, ceaseless activity. Dorian noted the wealth of Lavellan's assault was focused on the man's right arm- though he was dead by then.

His death failed to please or be acknowledged by the Herald, who commenced tearing muscle and skin.

Dorian didn't interfere at first. He had an uneasy sense of witnessing something deeply personal- deeply vengeful.

He allowed the man to navigate these emotions however he saw fit- for as long as it felt safe, anyway. He couldn't just...stand around and watch the Herald mutilate corpses all day...

  “...My Herald,” He said gently, stepping forward. “...I do believe that man has been rather dead for several minutes...”

Lavellan flung the knife aside, fresh crimson staining the entire length of his body.

  “What a pity.” Was all he said.

He then rooted around the man's cloak until retrieving his actual weapon- Dorian recognised the bladeless hilt from previous encounters. However it was merely held at his side, loose and inept.

  ...He probably doesn't have the strength to summon the blade right now,

  let alone use it...

  “Lunis...” A growl from the Herald stirred him from his thoughts. “Take me to Lunis.”

  “Of course, but...” Dorian perked a brow, curious. “I have to ask...what exactly was your plan?”

  “My plan?” Lavellan wheezed in bitter amusement, seeming pained by the motion. “You saw the extent of my plan.”

Blinking from the Herald to the desecrated corpse, Dorian's brow lifted higher.

  “Your plan was just...brutally kill that man in specific...?”

  “Yes.”

  “...Right, well...”

Unsettled by the whole circumstance, Dorian was eager to leave this damned timeline. He was grateful they encountered only a few Venatori stragglers- nothing that couldn't be solved with an inferno or two. Incapable of a true bout, Lavellan was forced to rely on Dorian's protection- though never complained.

Master and hound were reunited shortly; the undead canine leapt into Lavellan's chest, clutching firmly, Lavellan mumbled and cooed in Dalish, settling the wolf's nerves.

  “You do realise that's not actually a dog, yes?” Dorian couldn't help but point out. “It's just a Fade-Wisp...inhabiting a preserved corpse...”

The Herald scowled at this, embracing Lunis tightly.

  “It is a Fade-Wisp that believes itself to be a dog, in the body of a dog. In every way that matters, it is a dog.”

He could only blink dumbly at that logic- though Lunis panted in cheerful agreement.

Escaping together, the trio trudged through a dire landscape, returning to the necessary spot for their backwards time-shift.

  “Hold onto me,” Dorian advised, gingerly taking Lavellan's wrist. “This might make you feel just a tad sick.”

The elf pressed into his side, patient and silent while another vortex flared into life, swallowing them both.

--

Above them, the sun was shining.

Granted- there was still a Breach- but it hadn't overwhelmed the whole blighted sky!

  “Maker, finally!” Dorian sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. “I almost can't believe we made it back!”

Lavellan only offered a soft grunt, still slouched into his rescuer's frame.

  I really need to bring him to a healer...

  “Come- you see there?” He waved towards the fort. “Inquisition banners!- Your people. Let's get you home, my dear Herald...”

  “...Yes, I see...” Detaching, he lurched forward- though managed just a few steps before buckling. Dorian rushed to offer support, insisting on it when Lavellan hesitated.

  “Don't be shy now,” He cajoled sweetly. “It's alright to lean on me- I don't know how you've been upright for this long, really...”

Mute, the Herald allowed this without protest- probably lacking conviction to do so.

Lunis scampered ahead, barking in that odd, ethereal fashion that was not really a bark, since he lacked vocal chords. By the time Dorian caught up with Lavellan hanging off him, completely unconscious, a group of soldiers were blinking down from the parapets.

He imagined they were an odd sight- a Tevinter blood mage, holding up their famed and highly-honoured Herald of Andraste, both soaked in blood and the latter appearing mauled by a bear.

  “LET ME IN!” He demanded, angling so they could better sight his burden. “I brought him back!- I brought back your bloody Herald!”

Commotion erupted from within, excitement and shock crashing over the populace like a wave.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisition #dai #dorian pavus #blood mage dorian #blood mage #maleficar #pavellan #lavellan #m!lavellan #inquisitor #inquisitor lavellan #dorian pavus x inquisitor lavellan #dorian pavus x inquisitor #dragon age fanfic #dragon age aus #dragon age fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #my aus

[punwolf]

26. as an apology

Kissing Prompt

26. An apology

Setting: Set in an AU where Sebastian Vael never made it to Kirkwall. Instead of maturing because of Elthina's tutelage, his personality was shaped spending several years in Ferelden. It's up to Alfstanna Eremon to shape the wily, misplaced, and often unmanageable prince of Starkaven.

More Sebstanna kissing on AO3. ***

“I should have conferred with you first.” Sebastian hung his chin, but watched Alfstanna with vibrant blue eyes. He spent enough time among the Starkhaven nobles to make a convincing spectacle of remorse, but she was often immune to his charm. It was not as if he lacked sincerity, but he felt what he had done was vitally important.

“Yes, you should have.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared daggers. “I wouldn’t have interferred. You know that, but I thought we were closer than this. You should have at least told me.” Before he could argue she held up a finger to make the rest of her point. “There’s also the matter of sending off my runner. She may only be one person, but you know what’s happening in Dragon’s Peak as we have this conversation. Anyone could be vital right now.”

“I know.” He took a silent step closer to her, careful to maintain a posture of contrition. “I would ask your forgiveness. You know my family has thought me lost these past years and how heavily that weighed on me. We spoke of it many times. I needed to send them word now that the Blight grows each passing day. They should at least know where I am.” Perhaps where he would die if Andraste deemed it necessary. He didn’t relish the thought of being taken to the Maker’s side before he’d seen thirty years, but the Ferelden people stood against the darkspawn from Teyrns down to humble farmers. The country had become his home as much as Starkhaven ever had, and he would make any sacrifice to help keep the people safe.

Alfstanna unlocked her arms, but the tightness in her mouth hadn’t slackened. “Considering Irminric, I suppose I can’t blame you. Not that I’ll excuse you,” she added more severely.

“Has there been no word at all of your brother?” He subtly reached out to wrap his fingers around hers and draw her hand toward him.

“None.” She allowed herself to be be coaxed closer, shooting him a warning look. “He was sent to hunt a blood mage and the templars haven’t heard from him in months.”

Sebastian’s relationship with his siblings was far more strained than Alfstanna and her brother. It genuinely grieved him to think he’s put more worry in her life. “I am sorry for not discussing the letter to my family with you – and for borrowing your runner without permission.” He dared to look into her face. Now that they were inches apart, remorse retreated in the wake of cocky mischief.

“It’s a small thing,” she admitted as he snaked an arm around her hips. “Normally it wouldn’t have mattered. Perhaps I’m over reacting.”

“You’re worried for your brother,” he acknowledged seriously, “and for Ferelden.” Their bodies were flush against one another, and he lightly pecked her lips with his.

Resting a hand flat against his chest, she turned her face, but didn’t step from his grasp. “This is hardly the time --”

“Is it not?” He kissed her temple, putting comfort into the contact. A series of light kisses on her the curve of her cheekbone made her turn toward him. “You’re impossible.” The angry edges were gone from her words and he kissed the outside edge of her mouth, lips caressing delicate skin with sensual relish. Her arms draped around his neck, and deft hands made an almost entirely chaste journey down her back and along her ribs. The tip of is tongue teased the corner of her lips as his hands cupped the firm, round curves of her backside. When their lips made full contact, the kiss deepened and she boldly trailed fingertips to the same place on his body where he was taking a delightful, double handed grip on hers. She gave him a squeeze as she intensified the kiss even more, passionately taking him by surprise. When they broke apart, their foreheads rested against one another and he laughed quietly in his rich, Starkhaven burr. “Saucy Ferelden minx.”

“Apology accepted,” she responded blandly, running a hand over his throat and letting it rest on the back of his neck.

He caught the other with his and kissed each fingertip in turn. “Good.”  

#Sebastian Vael #Alfstanna Eremon #Dragon Age #AU #Sebstanna #Kissing Prompts #theoriginalladya #I use the tag Sebstanna if you don't want to see these

[bluekaddis]

What was Rein's relationship with Arl Eamon like?

Ugh, Eamon. The Not-So-Cool Uncle you get in the package with the crown I guess.

Rein knows Eamon has his virtues – he’s a patriot, he’s done a lot to improve his arling’s economy after the Orlesian occupation, he’s a respected noble among Fereldans - and rightfully so. His support during the Landsmeet meant a lot to her and his loyalty towards the Crown isn’t questioned.However, their relationship is civil but cold at best, and their rivalry only intensifies after she becomes the Queen. Rein doesn’t like Eamon’s attitude towards Alistair. She doesn’t like how he is expecting Alistair to share his views on the Fereldan politics or to follow his advice blindly.Also, being the Overprotective Girlfriend TM, she simply cannot forgive Eamon for the way he treated Alistair in the past and she cringes every time Alistair actes apologetic about Eamon’s behaviour. On Eamon’s side, his pragmatism and dream of a strong Theirin dynasty makes him question Rein’s position a lot - after all, she hasn’t given Ferelden an heir yet.He’s began suggesting “alternatives” to having Rein as the queen, but Alistair is relentless :P

Thanks for asking!

#dragon age #alistair theirin #warden cousland #alistair x warden #otp #rein cousland #arl eamon #doodle ask #ask #thank you for asking! #my art

[eeveevie]

a forehead press scene for Evelyn/Alistair maybe?

squint, and you’ll see me reference some old prompts I’ve written for these two, for consistency’s sake 

Alistair x Evelyn Cousland

535 words | Ao3

Dawn.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Arl Eamon’smen began to march towards Denerim. Alistair watched from his spot along thebattlements of the castle, knowing any moment he was to depart as well. Many,including Eamon, had wished for him to stay behind—it would be safer for the future King of Ferelden to avoid the Darkspawn.But Alistair wouldn’t retreat so easily. He was a Grey Warden first, and wouldbe until the Archdemon was defeated. There was also his devotion to Evelyn. Hewasn’t about to abandon her now.

As if his mind had beckoned her, he heard quiet footstepsapproaching, knowing by the pace thatit was Evelyn. She approached, and he could sense her nerves. The previous dayshad been nothing but tumultuous for their relationship. At the Landsmeet shehad appointed him King, and offered to become Queen to help rebuild thewar-torn country. It wasn’t exactly the way he’d envisioned becoming herhusband. He had proposed—properly—thatevening at Eamon’s estate. Even though the chances of her saying no by that point were slim, Alistair wasstill grateful she agreed. Not a day later they were on their way back toRedcliffe, where they were greeted with destruction. The Darkspawn horde hadattacked, and was heading back towards the capital. Riordan only soured themood further, indicating that one of them was to die when the Archdemon fell.

Except, Morriganhad plans.

Alistair decided not to dwell on the memory for very long,swallowing down the bad taste that had developed in his mouth. He had promisedEvelyn that it wouldn’t change anything between them—he too wanted nothing morethan to survive, to have the future with her that they both deserved.

“Alistair?” Her voice was soft.

He turned his full attention to her then, eyes dancingacross her form. She was dressed in her Warden regalia, the silver of the armorglistening under the morning sun. It would be a sign of inspiration to thetroops—a sign of hope. He took hergloved hand in his, tightening his grip as much as his gauntlets would allow.They stood there silently for a moment, the two looking on as more and moresoldiers made their way out of the ruined village.

“Their lives depend on us,” Evelyn stated. “I hope…” shetrailed. Alistair took her other hand as well, turning her towards him. Hereyes slowly raised to meet his and he recognized the fear that lingered in herexpression. He couldn’t blame her—he was just as terrified. Still, he wouldn’tflame the anxiety she was feeling.

“We can do this,” he encouraged. He tilted his head down,gently resting his forehead against hers. The blue of her eyes intensified, butshe didn’t break the gaze. “You cando this.”

Evelyn’s lips twitched up in a small, thankful smile. It wasbrief, but it was enough. Alistair moved one arm to wrap around her shoulders. Sheclosed her eyes, nuzzling her head against his as she stepped closer into hisembrace. Then, the most chaste of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, Alistair,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #alistair theirin #alistair x cousland #alistair x evelyn #evelyn cousland #otp: say no more #a crab writes #fanfic #iarinthel #potato answer

[dragonfartart]

So, @blackrayser made [THIS] amazing template and we just had to fill it! Meet our “Hawke è leggenda!” (the reason why we opened this blog in the first place ahah), our canonical Hawke... and his trusted family mabari <3 Un uomo una leggenda, shish!

#dragon age #reference sheet #garrett hawke #hawke è leggenda #nug the mabari #ferelden intensifies #anders is sweating in the distance #fenris is sweating as well but more discreetely #andate tutti a riempire questa cazzo di ref sheet codardi #everybody go and fill up this template you cowards #we also had to include Nug because Hawke isn't Hawke without his mabari #they are always together #Nug eats from his plate #which leaves Anders very disgusted #because c'mon it's a MABARI not a very clean CAT #in ACT1 Hawke has a fling both with Isabela and Anders #in ACT2 Anders propose to Hawke even if they always said that between them it was just a fling with no sentiments more than affection #so Hawke was really surprised that Anders was in love with him #and he had to turn him down because he was about to confess his feelings to Fenris instead #He always thought that Anders didn't want a romantic relationship and so he decided to propose to Fenris which he likes very very much <3 #Anders thinks for a long time that Hawke was in love with Isabela instead before realizing that Hawke was talking about Fenris that night #(and Anders still moves to live in the Hawke's Estate because YES) #Then of course at the end of ACT2 Fenris leaves Garrett because of his memories but Garrett waits for him until ACT3 patiently #Fenris also decides to giv Garrett another shot because Anders went to talk with him and tells him that only a fool would leave Hawke #to wich Fenris replies then maybe I'm a fool... and Anders just smile in the most heartbroken way and tells him Not everyone is as lucky #BUT FRET NOT they end up all together during the events of DAI #but I'm writing too much here bye #DragonFartArt

[janearts]

AUGH MY WEAKNESS!!!! Thanks for this ask–it’s given me so many ideas!

I wanted to branch off of the last image in this post. I thought that when all hell breaks loose, Knight-Commander Cullen has the option to either keep those under his command within the tower or try to relocate to Haven. I thought that Cullen would be more inclined to stay put, while Bree would be more eager to take the risk of leaving the Tower for Haven. To answer your question, I thought that their reactions and their future depends on whether they stay or whether they go so I drew up their reactions in two different scenarios. 

I’ve also written two long essays explaining my thinking below. I put them under a read-more to try to spare any unwilling eyes. :X

If they stay in the Tower:

I can see the abolishment of the Circles as pulling the metaphorical rug out from under both Cullen & Bree.

Both characters would have grown into their roles as Knight-Commander and as First Enchanter by the time DA:I’s epilogue slides start scrolling. This means that they have become accustomed to the Circle system as a fundamental and indelible component of their lives. So for example, Bree stops dreaming of adventure and becomes more focused on the day in day out responsibilities and duties that go into successfully running a Circle of Magi (e.g., balancing budgets for what the Circle earns versus what Senior Enchanters wish to spend, overseeing all Harrowings alongside the Templars, coordinating transfers and initiates into the Tower, managing Circle curricula, etc.). I can see Cullen, for his part, becoming more like the Commander we know in Inquisition: somewhat stern, at times self-serious in his duty and vehement about what he believes to be right, but cordial and caring beneath it all. More than that, I see the Circle system as giving them both some sense of structure, order, and meaning to their lives. In this AU, I see “Knight-Commander” and “First Enchanter” becoming less and less mere formality and poncy titles and more and more who they are. The abolishment of the Circles would then not simply strip them of their duties: it would strip them of a core part of their identity.

That sense of personal loss would only be intensified by their survival of the Mage-Templar War, which I can imagine would devastate the Tower even if Lake Calenhad acted as a bulwark. Even if Cullen & Bree ultimately “hold the line” and maintain some semblance of peace and order within the Tower, I am sure they would lose Templars and mages–either through death or desertion–to the war one way or another. (For example, Carroll would still be lost to the Red Templars. How many Ferelden Circle Templars followed his suit?) The Divine’s decree might compound that sense of loss–they kept the Circle together only for the Divine to render them Circleless; they kept Order only for the Divine to render them Orderless–and then beg the question of two people who cannot fathom the answer: “So now what?”

And I think they would respond to the loss of life in all its different meanings in different ways. For Cullen, I think he would be dutiful as always–to the Divine, to what’s left of his Order–in his reaction, but Bree would react with anger that really comes from a place of sorrow and a sense of injustice.

As far as their relationship goes, I think that the crisis of the Mage-Templar War would have brought them closer together not as lovers, but as allies and I think the loss of the Circle is so wounding to Bree because it comes with it the idea of the loss of Cullen. If they do not part ways at the end of it all, then I can see Bree laying claim to her Tower with the intent of turning it into a sister College to the one set up by the mages of the Inquisition and Cullen laying claim to his Tower with the intent of turning it into a sanctuary for ex-Templars. If Bree were to have her way, they would combine forces and create something akin to Mont-St-Michel–a village and a fortress all piled on one wee bit of an island.

If they go to Haven:

The abolishment of the Circle would be less of a shock to a Bree & Cullen who had made the long and difficult journey to Haven and/or Skyhold. I say this because they would necessarily be much more in touch with the outside world than if they remained isolated in the Ferelden Tower–they would witness first hand the words and actions of the Inquisitor and their advisers; this could be a decision they could see in the making.

I still think that both would struggle with the losses mentioned above, especially with the loss of life as they make their way to Haven and with the “What now?/Who am I?/Where do I fit?” questions as their forces integrate with the Inquisition. However, I believe that they’d handle these losses better among the forces of the Inquisition than in the isolation of the Tower because there wouldn’t be such a power vacuum: Cullen and Bree would have the Inquisition’s cause and community to give their support and energy to and there would be a network of support for them and theirs in turn.

I see this iteration of events as being genuinely liberating for Bree as well as being an easier (note: not easy, easier) transition out of knighthood for Cullen. I can see them owning their feelings and initiating a relationship in this context.

Some bonus images because walls of text aren’t all that fun to read:

#asks #anons #Bree #Bree Amell #Cullen #Cullen Rutherford #DA AU #First Enchanter AU #in which Jane reveals how little she actually understands the possible DAI timelines

[bloodymarryme]

The Demon Hunt

A one-chapter, short story about the Bull’s Chargers and their hunt for the Envy demon.  Rated T for blood, violence and language

Can also be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397112/chapters/32846613

Krem’s heavy foot dropped into the mud as he continued his walk down the path. The sky was dreary and grey, light rain falling down on them. But the Bull’s Chargers soon realized it wasn’t only the day that was particularly bleak. As soon as they came to the Ferelden lands near Therinfal Redoubt, the mood turned sour.

They passed a village on their way, which was at the foot of the hill where the great Fortress stood. The villagers glanced at them with suspicious and fearful gazes, but they kept their distance from the mercenaries. Yet twitches in their strained expressions told Krem they were hiding something. That was confirmed when he and the company healer tried talking to the villagers, to gather information on the former Seeker Fortress, only to be shut out immediately. The village folk would shake their heads and tell them they didn’t know anything in terse answers, or simply run away from them while pulling their children inside their homes. It seemed nobody was willing to talk about Redoubt or what happened there a few days ago.

Krem hated leading the Chargers blindly into possible danger. They barely had any information about what happened when they reached the stone bridge that led to the fortress’ gates. The first thing that drew their suspicion was that the gates were wide open, almost as if inviting them inside. There were no guards near the gates or archers on the battlements, leaving the place completely defenseless.

The Chargers glanced at each other in wonder.

“Maybe it’s our lucky day,” Dalish asked with a sheepish look and shrugged.

“When has that ever been the case,” Krem retorted with a sigh.

“There’s a first time for everything,” the elven mage muttered.

“Or we can just go in and find out for ourselves, instead of standing here in the rain and guessing,” Skinner suggested in an impatient tone, already walking across the bridge.

“Hey, stay on your guard!” Aclassi quickly jogged beside her, his heavy armor clattering. “I don’t want to explain to the Chief why I let one of you get killed.”

Therinfal Redoubt was huge, with three levels, the battlements and a wide courtyard. Cremisius decided not to take all the Chargers with him, so it felt like it would take days to comb through the entire Fortress.

As soon as they entered the courtyard, the sinister feeling in his gut intensified. Before coming here, the Chargers expected the place to be swarming with people, even if Leliana’s sources told them the Templars already deserted the castle. Nevertheless, they expected at least some people, like servants, that would be left behind. They worried how they will enter undetected to scout the place, yet all that planning proved useless in the end, since there was not a soul around to stop them from exploring.

“Something isn’t right here…Why would they all just up and leave all of a sudden?” Stiches murmured in thought as he looked around. Next to him, Grim grunted in agreement.

“This place is too quiet and too shifty for my taste.” Rocky furrowed his thick eyebrows, creating a deep crease on his wrinkled forehead.

They passed the courtyard carefully until they found the entrance to the lower level. “Let’s check inside. Just…everyone be careful,” their Lieutenant warned.

Skinner exhaled, “You worry too much; you’re starting to sound like the Big Guy.”

“Yeah, just add a bad sense of humor with some cheesy flirting lines, and you’ve got the next Iron Bull,” Dalish grinned teasingly.

The heavily armored warrior rolled his eyes at the two elves. “Great. As if one wasn’t enough already,” he complained, but a shadow of a smile split on his face.

He pushed the doors open and stepped inside the main hall of the castle. As soon as he did, his chestnut eyes widened in shock. He heard a few gasps behind him and that confirmed what he was seeing was real – it wasn’t a nightmare, although it sure looked like one.

Bodies of Templars and servants littered the ground, old crusty blood staining the carpet. But not only on the floor. Even the walls were splattered with the crimson liquid, and there were a number of strange markings and writings on the walls, written in human blood. A few bodies disturbingly dangled from the ceiling beams and spiked on the giant chandelier, although that was so far up, there shouldn’t have been any possible way for them to get there.

The stench of rotting flesh stung Krem’s eyes and twisted his expression into disgust. What’s more, the bodies were mutilated, while some looked skinned alive. “Was this done by magic?”

Dalish’s response sounded muffled as she held her sleeve over her mouth and nose, trying to protect herself from the foul odor. “I don’t sense any residual magic, though.”

Unlike the mage, Skinner had no problem coming near the bodies and examining them up close. She was currently crouching over a dead Templar, removing his helmet to get a better look. “Some bodies look like they were killed by a sword.” As the helmet came off, she scowled. “Lieutenant, come look at this!”

Krem rushed over towards her, staring at the dead body. The rest of the Chargers joined them. The dead Templar was sickly pale, which wasn’t unusual, but the red veins traveling underneath the skin of his throat and face certainly was. “Stiches, what do you make of this?”

As the Company’s healer and surgeon, Stiches had the most skill to examine the corpse. He hummed in thought, looking over the skin. He took the Templar’s hand and examined the fingertips. “Look, on the inside of his nails…it’s red lyrium.” Then he opened the dead men’s eyes. The whites of his eyes were completely gone, replaced by glowing red that wasn’t blood. “Even inside his eyes…It’s definitely red lyrium corruption.”

“That crap Varric hates? He did warn the Inquisition about its dangerous,” Rocky mused.

“So maybe the Templars killed their own who were corrupted,” Dalish guessed.

Krem looked over at the other bodies, then shook his head. “I’m not sure. Look, not all of them were corrupted.”

Skinner shrugged, “So they fought with each other.”

The Lieutenant clicked his tongue. “We need more information. We need to explore deeper into the Fortress. Let’s go.”

The Chargers followed their Lieutenant through the deserted halls of the Fortress. They searched through the lower levels, until reaching the main level. There, they found dead bodies of templars abandoned in their quarters. Some of them had their necks sliced, most likely assassinated in their sleep.

In the quarters were a few notes and journals that helped them piece the puzzle of what happened in this nightmarish place. In one of the journals, a Templar talked about the strange change her comrades were experiencing, starting with their officers. The officers would wear red lyrium phials around their necks, gradually making all their subordinates drink the stuff. In the Officer Quarters they found a Lyrium Manifest, where it said normal lyrium shipments were replaced by red lyrium ones. Another journal talked about Lord Seeker Lucius – of how he completely took control over the Templars and was acting strange and authoritative, shutting down anyone who would oppose him.

They learned that red lyrium corruption overtook most of the Templars. Those who didn’t take red lyrium and stayed sane were assassinated. Those who got sick but proved too weak to the red lyrium corruption went insane and were eventually killed off. From the tracks left that Skinner read, it appeared a greater force came in and out of the fortress before the Chargers arrived, and the remaining templars who survived joined that army.

But it wasn’t until they reached the other side of the castle that the strangeness of the place intensified. They entered another courtyard, although smaller than the one at the entrance.

Dalish was the first to notice it. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. “Be careful, the Veil is thin here…”

“Is that your professional archer opinion,” Skinner taunted slyly.

“That means demons,” Krem mumbled, pulling out his long sword and taking the shield off his back.

“….,” Grim grunted as he took the heavy broadsword off his back into both hands.

A growl came from around the corner and the group drew closer carefully. Skinner snuck to the corner and peered behind it, counting the number of Shades that aimlessly roamed around the area. She counted four Lesser Shades and one larger, Greater Shade demon.

She put up five fingers to the rest of the group before unsheathing her two dual daggers. Aclassi gave her a silent nod and the woman disappeared around the corner without making a sound. The Lieutenant then put up a hand in the air, letting the group know to wait for his signal.

Skinner used the shrubbery of the courtyard to hide her presence as she drew closer to the Shades. She could see her target, the closest lesser Shade that stood near a large oak tree and would let out a low growl every now and then. Her footsteps made no sound as she ran closer, rushing out of the bushes and leaning behind the oak, then peering at the Shade demon. As expected, it didn’t notice her yet. She was a skilled rogue, and her enemies only noticed her when she wanted them to. Although, most of them died clueless without even seeing her face before she stabbed her daggers or arrows into them.

The elven woman waited for the demon to turn its back to her more, then slid from behind the tree, and stabbed both weapons into its back. It let out a loud roar, but she was unfazed by it. Sliding the daggers out of its back in a slice, she cut through the demon’s hard flesh. With another roar, the creature turned into a puddle of black goo.

Its loud scream alerted the rest of the Shades and they all turned their heads towards the rogue. Their glowing beady eyes pierced her before they roared with expressionless masks that could hardly be called faces. The dreary creatures slid across the ground with quickened pace, heading towards her with clawed arms raised.

Skinner spun the daggers in her hands and sheathed them at her sides, before taking her bow from her back and pulled one arrow from its quiver. She drew back the arrow and shot it right into the eye of one of the closest Shade demons, but it only slowed it down. She didn’t wait to see the effects, however, as she turned around and started running back towards the corner from where she came. *That’s right, you ugly bastards, follow me right into a trap.* She timed her escape so she would be neither too slow nor too fast, wanting to lead as many Shades as she could to their deaths.

Jumping around the corner, she saw the Chargers a safe distance away. Just as the first demon appeared around the corner behind her, she saw Dalish rise her hand towards her. A fire glyph the elven mage posted right at the turn of the corner lit up and exploded, burning two demons that were currently sliding across it.

“Now,” Krem yelled and gave a signal for the party to attack.

He charged at the closest Shade, ignoring the fire that blazed on it. Even though it was on fire, it moved as if unaffected by it. He ducked low behind his shield to avoid getting singed and bashed it against the demon. The Shade didn’t stumble backwards, but the shield momentarily obstructed its vision. It clawed at the warrior, but Krem held his shield up to block the attack. He could hear the unnerving scraping of the monster’s claws against the shield’s metal. Stepping backwards and rising his sword, he brought it down on the Shade’s head. The weapon cut in deep, black slime pouring from the wound. He stepped backwards again, sliding the sword out and piercing the Shade’s chest with a finishing blow.

Grim passed him by, slamming his two-handed blade into a Shade that was previously frozen by Dalish. Meanwhile, Skinner covered Grim’s flank, stabbing and slashing at the incoming creatures.

A clatter of heavy armor brought their attention to their surroundings and they noticed the corpses of templars mauled by demons were rising to their feet. They moved strangely, swaying as if unsure on their already-rotting legs, while they held their swords or bows in a loose grip.

“Undead,” Stiches warned.

“Fenedhis, I said the Veil was thin here! The spirits must have come through and possessed the dead templars,” Dalish explained.

The undead templars shuffled slowly towards them, joining the demons. They moaned in low, inhuman voices as they approached, lured in by the scent of fresh, living meat.

“I’ll take care of it,” Rocky shouted, tossing two grenades towards a group of Templar corpses. The two bombs exploded, showering them with dirt, blood and rotten body parts.

“Oh come on, Rocky,” Krem screamed in disgust, covering himself with his shield to avoid contact with the falling body parts.

“Sod it, I didn’t expect it to make such a large explosion. I’ll have to fix the dosage of sand lyrium,” the dwarven sapper murmured in thought.

A loud angry roar echoed throughout the courtyard and Aclassi cursed at his momentary distraction. He raised his shield right in time to block a slam of the Greater Shade demon. Even with his muscular stature and heavy armor, the demon managed to hit him hard enough to send him flying backwards, his teeth rattling from the impact.

Luckily, Grim and Stiches appeared before him in defensive stances, already prepared to take on the large demon. Skinner laced her blades with magebane poison that demons were weak to as equally as mages. She then snuck up behind it and pierced both daggers in its back, while the two warriors attacked from the front. Meanwhile, Dalish and Rocky were taking care of the remainder of undead templars. Their Lieutenant was up in no time to join the fight.

The magebane worked, weakening the demon as it shrunk in size some. Krem lured the Shade in, bringing its attention to himself. He raised his shield above his head just in time as it brought both clawed arms towards him, slamming them onto the shield. Taking that moment to act, Grim went high while Stiches went low with their swings. The healer cut into the demon’s stomach, while the blonde warrior went for the head. The monster roared one last time before it collapsed into itself, turning into thick black liquid.

The elven mage sighed in relief when the battle ended. “Templars, red lyrium, undead and now demons…this cursed place has become a portal to the Beyond.”

Grim grunted, getting everyone’s attention, and pointed at some blood markings on the wall.

“Grim found something. What is that?” Rocky examined it. “Hey, there are more words written in blood on the walls here. But it can be read.”

The Chargers all gathered around the cryptic words as Krem read them out loud.

“A whisper, followed out of dream. A beckoning thread of power. At the end of it a figure, crowned in imperial red, seen through a tear in the air. The Elder One, demanding servitude with an offer impossible to resist.

Leader of the Seekers. Commander of knights. Lord Seeker Lucius Corin, master of templars.

Weeks of studying, learning, imitating. The Lord Seeker reveals who he is, what he is, with every sharp-tongued reaction. Lucius Corin abandoned, hidden after taking his face, his armor, his templars. Easy as slipping into new skin.

The Herald of Andraste protests as the templars leave the city. Small. Unimportant. Beneath a Lord Seeker's notice, but for instructions from the Elder One.

Growing disbelief. The Herald, leading nobles, shining men and women whose power chokes a country. The Inquisition, rising larger than the templars. Unbearable envy. What is a Lord Seeker, compared to what the Herald will become?

Seething, consumed with want. Dreaming, wanting, needing to wear the Herald of Andraste's face when next meeting the Elder One,” Krem read the whole thing, confusion written on his face.  

“Well that’s creepy,” the dwarf deadpanned.

“I think I know what this is…,” Dalish called out and glanced at her comrades with a troubled expression. “It sounds like an Envy demon. I’ve never seen one in person, but my Keeper taught me about them. They are cowardly and greedy demons that want to take everything from the person – they want to become that person. They study their prey until they completely learn how to act like them. And they can even morph their appearance to look like another person.”

“From this text it sounds like the Envy demon took over Lord Seeker Lucius’ identity. No wonder he started acting so strange…it wasn’t really him at all,” Aclassi exclaimed.

“You’re telling us this Envy demon could be anywhere, posing as anyone,” Stiches wore a disgusted grimace as he questioned his apostate friend.

“Exactly. And by the sound of it, it serves this Elder One and has a fixation on our Herald of Andraste. There is a good chance that it’s going to come after Lavellan.”

Krem scowled, “We have to write to Sister Leliana and warn the Inquisition, on the double!”

“We can send a raven from that village down the hill. If those shems are even willing to help us…they didn’t seem too friendly earlier,” Skinner frowned.

“We better hurry then. The malevolent feeling in this place is still fresh. It’s so stifling, I can hardly breathe. The Envy demon couldn’t have left long ago. Maybe we can still hunt it down,” Dalish muttered with a shudder. Goosebumps crawled on her delicate skin from the unnerving atmosphere of this place.

~…..~

They located a tavern in the village where Krem sat down and wrote everything they found out in a letter, while the others talked to the Barkeep and a few patrons to try and get more information. When they came back to the table, each carrying a pint of ale, they compared what they learned with each other.

“Seems the tavern was a good place to start. Alcohol really loosens the tongue. Who knew, huh?” Dalish commented sarcastically, a sly smile spreading on her full lips.

I found out why the villagers are so on guard, especially with strangers. The eerie occurrences in Therinfal Redoubt are only half of the story,” Stiches started. “Apparently, a whole army of warriors and mages passed through here, going to the Seeker Fortress. By the description the people gave me, I’d say it was the Venatori.”

“Nugshit! The templars joined the Venatori - the same cultist bastards that tried taking over Redcliffe,” Rocky exclaimed in bewilderment.

“That is not all. Not long after Redoubt went quiet, strange things started happening in this village, too,” the rogue elf added her own information. “The barkeep says his apprentice started acting strangely the day after the Fortress went quiet. Then the next day, he completely disappeared.”

“I’m still surprised you managed to collect information by talking to shems without getting into a fight,” Dalish muttered at the rogue with a wry smile, innocently propping her head with her hand on the table. Skinner gave her an annoyed glance, but ignored the comment.

“I heard the same thing from another human. Seems like there’s been a few people that would act completely out of character and then disappear the next day, never to be seen again,” the dwarf confirmed.

The mage sighed, “This is definitely the work of an Envy demon. It passed through here.”

Krem pinched the bridge of his nose as he mulled over everything he heard. *Damn, this is starting to get complicated,* he growled in his mind. “Our camp is a few hours by foot from here, so we better hurry. The sooner we reach them, the sooner I can get this letter to the Inquisition.”

~…..~

The rest of the Chargers set up a camp about a day’s walk from the Seeker Fortress, careful not to garnish any unwanted attention. Aclassi only took a few people with him so they would stay inconspicuous, while he had the rest of the mercenary company waiting in camp for further orders.

It was already nightfall when they arrived at the camp. He gave a familiar signal to the camp guards, indicating it was his group.

Shiela, a cheerful dwarven rogue, greeted them. She was on guard duty with another of the company mercenaries. “So, you find anything interesting?”

“Lots,” Dalish gave a dry smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Too many things, if ya ask me,” Rocky added with an exasperated breath.

“Shiela, go get a raven. We need to send one to the Inquisition immediately,” the Lieutenant ordered, holding up the report he wrote for Leliana.

The ordinarily-cheerful dwarf glanced at the letter nervously. “Actually…there’s something you should see first.”

The Lieutenant definitely didn’t like the troubled look on her face. It was rare to see her upset about anything. His voice came out drearier than he intended, as that familiar bad feeling gripped his gut again. “Lead the way.”

She led them to the cages were the correspondence ravens waited. They were all sleeping by now, softly fluttering their wings, with cloth covering their cages to keep out the firelight. Past the cages, she went to a makeshift table made from crates and picked up a long piece of paper. “This arrived not long after you left. It’s from the Inquisition’s spymaster. Luckily, they knew where to find us since we didn’t change locations from out last correspondence with Haven. It was good to set up headquarters and keep some of us here,” the dwarf smiled lightly, but it barely reflected in her greenish-brown eyes.

It was Krem’s idea to set up camp here as headquarters and let a trained raven go back to Haven, so their spymaster would have a raven that knew the Chargers’ location, and could use it for any emergency correspondence. That raven was now back at their camp with a message that made even Shiela feel anxious.

His group all huddled around him while their Lieutenant read the message silently. They could practically pinpoint the moment when Krem’s tanned face turned ashen white.

“Yeah…,” Shiela trailed off, knowing exactly what Aclassi was currently reading.

“What is it,” Dalish demanded, trying to see over Krem’s shoulder and failing since he was half a head taller than her.

He muttered a stunned reply, barely audible. “Haven has been attacked….It’s gone….Sister Leliana says it’s been razed to the ground.”

“What the…,” Skinner whispered, unable to form a proper question.

Everyone was in a state of shock. “The leader! What about Bull!?”

“The Chief’s fine. He’s alive,” Krem answered, and could hear a number of relieved sighs around him. “Also, apparently they appointed the Herald of Andraste the official leader of the Inquisition. They gave him the title of Inquisitor,” he added.

“Well it was about time they named him a proper leader. He was pretty much leading the Inquisition anyway,” Dalish shrugged with an unsurprised tone to her.

The Lieutenant chuckled, “Although he kept complaining about being called the Herald. He’s always saying the Inquisition’s success is a joint effort. I don’t think I heard him call himself a leader of anything, even once.”

“Who cares about that part,” Skinner shouted in impatience, startling everyone. “What happened to Haven?”

After rereading the letter three times, their Lieutenant told everyone what the message stated. But even as the words formed on his lips, it sounded surreal – like something out of a storybook. An ancient Tevinter Magister attacked Haven with an Archdemon and burned it to the ground. The Haven survivors retreated and found an old castle in the mountains called Skyhold where the Inquisition was currently rebuilding. What’s more, the said Magister who some called the Elder One, commanded an army of templars corrupted by red lyrium, led by General Samson. It was all too much to take in at once.

“The Elder One? Didn’t that Envy demon write something about that on the Fortress walls?”

“Maybe the demon also works for the Magister,” Stiches shrugged.

“The guy’s name is Corypheus, according to Sister Leliana.”

“A mage and a demon…makes sense,” Rocky said. “No offense, Dalish,” he added.

“None taken. I’m well aware some mages are idiots who summon demons and use blood magic,” the elf dismissed it nonchalantly. “Besides, why would I be offended? I’m an archer, remember,” she added with a sly smirk.

“And I’m the Nugking,” the dwarf muttered.

“Nug-king? I’m not even sure I want to know,” Skinner eyed him dubiously.

“…..,” Grim grunted in askance towards their leader.

“There’s nothing we can do, Grim. I’ve sent the raven back to Sister Leliana, so we have to wait for new orders,” Aclassi answered.

“But the Envy demon might escape before that!”

“I can’t act on my own, Skinner. This is too important and we’re a mercenary company working for the Inquisition now.”

“I’m more worried what other damage this demon will do. There are a lot of populated areas in Ferelden. A lot of small villages to hide in. It hides best when it has people to imitate,” Dalish muttered with a frown, her slim eyebrows curling to create small wrinkles on her vallaslin.

Aclassi groaned, tired and ready to call it a night. They needed rest for tomorrow. “We’ll have to track it down. You can sense its spirit, while Skinner and the other rogues can follow the physical tracks. Plus, we can always gather information about the strange occurrences and reports on missing people, like we did in the last village. Hopefully, the raven will come back to us tomorrow in the late afternoon, with new orders. For now, all we can do is rest up for tomorrow,” he suggested.

“….,” Grim let out a short grunt.

Cremisius smiled, “It seems Grim agrees.”

~……~

The raven with new orders came back the next day, earlier than they expected. It seemed Leliana could understand the gravity of the situation and considered stopping that Envy demon a priority.

Krem gathered the usual group, who planned over a Ferelden map about their course through the area.

“What about the rest of us,” Gethwen asked. He was one of the elven rogues of the mercenary company, usually under Skinner’s orders.

“If we take too large a group, the Envy demon will see us coming and flee. It’s better if you stay here in the camp, Geth. We’ll definitely come back as soon as the damn thing is dead,” Krem explained.

The redheaded elf sighed, “Fine.” He was one of the newest recruits of the company so he hadn’t seen much action yet. He was obviously itching for it.

Shiela came to give her goodbyes to the group. “Don’t worry, we’ll hold the Fort,” she joked, giving their Lieutenant a wink.

“We appreciate it,” Rocky nodded at her.

The Chargers’ party left the main camp, going towards the direction of the nearest village. They didn’t know what awaited them there, but it was good a place to start as any.

~….~

The village was much larger than the one near Redoubt. With its farms on the outskirts and stone houses placed around in rings, with a large square in the middle; it could almost be called a small town.

The Chargers made a quaint group, with every race from elves to dwarf and humans, all banded together. That’s why it wasn’t strange that they were receiving curious glances from every passerby on their path.

With Dalish’s magic and Skinner’s tracking expertise, they followed the envy demon’s trail to this large village. They found a few animal and human carcasses on their way, devoured by something that wasn’t a simple beast. The most disturbing clue was shed human skin that the envy demon left behind from its last target.

“We are in a pretty populated area, with the demon that can shapeshift into anyone. This s going to be hard,” their healer commented as he watched each person passing them by with suspicion. Any one of them could be a demon in disguise.

“Do you think the thing knows we’re on to it,” the dwarf asked.

“I’m not sure we are on to it,” Skinner answered sourly.

“We followed its trail this far. We might as well ask around to see if there were any strange activates here,” their Lieutenant suggested.

“Tavern?” Dalish asked with a smirk.

Krem nodded in agreement, “Tavern.”

As usual, the tavern was the best place to start. Everyone were half-drunk, loose tongued, and happy to talk about their strange experiences in the village since nobody around would take them seriously. Especially when a drunkard would talk about seeing his wife at the same time as she was seen having tea with her sister-in-law on the other side of the village. Everyone laughed at his crazy prattle. Everyone but an elf who listened in on the conversation carefully, before relying it back to the rest of the mercenaries.

“Honestly, the taverns are the best place in any town. You’ll either get a crazy drunken fib or get in a fight with someone. Either way, you get a great story out of it,” Rocky grinned.

“No wonder the Chief likes drinking in them so much,” Krem returned the toothy grin.

“So I was thinking,” the elven mage started in a cryptic tone. “Maybe instead of running after the demon, it’s better if we let it come to us. Lure it into a trap.”

“Well sure. And it would be even better if it just committed suicide, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen,” Skinner commented sarcastically with a shrug.

The other elf rolled her eyes at her callous Orlesian comrade.

“I’m sensing you have a plan,” Krem asked, interrupting their bickering.  

Dalish gave the group a mischievous smirk, her pale blue eyes glittering. “The demon wants Lavellan, we know that much. And the best way to get to him is to infiltrate the Inquisition, right? So how do you do that if you’re an Envy demon? That’s right; you take on the form of someone who is already a part of the Inquisition. And what do you know – there’s currently six such people in the very village the demon is hiding in!” The apostate grinned as she saw realization hit the others’ faces.

“So if we spread the word that we are with the Inquisition, we might lure the demon to us. It will try to take the identity of one of us.”

“….,” Grim made a long grunt.

“I’m with Grim; it’s pretty dangerous to make ourselves the targets,” the dwarven sapper muttered. His lips twisted beneath his thick mustache. “Not that I’m afraid to do it or anything!”

“It’s dangerous, yes, but it might be our best bet. It’s better than to run around the village, trying to guess who the hidden Envy demon is,” Skinner said.

“So we spread a rumor that Inquisition agents, the Bull’s Chargers, are in this village.”

“How do we do that?”

“Well, where’s the best place to start a rumor?”

They all thought for a while, then concluded in unison, “Tavern.” Luckily, they were already in one.    

~…….~

It was churning. Twisting with impatience.

The Herald. The Herald was promised to it. Promised by the Elder One.

It listened. It set a trap in Redoubt, but the Herald didn’t come. The tricky Herald avoided the trap. Now it grows ever more impatient.

But there are whispers again. Human whispers that are promising. The Inquisition, here, in this village. So close it could smell it. It could taste it. Taste the Herald. Become the Herald. Be the Herald.

It churned again. It twisted faster. So close to another skin. Better skin. It needed more. More than this saggy flesh of an old woman nobody cared about. The world didn’t care about her! It needed someone the world admired, worshiped, adored. It needed someone like the leader of the Inquisition.

One word repeated. One word whispered among the villagers. One name – ticket to the Inquisition, to the Herald. One name – the Bull’s Chargers.

But it needed to see first. To learn about them. Their feelings, innermost thoughts and secrets, their beliefs. It needed to learn to become them. It wanted to know more. It wanted to see in their minds and know everything.

Wait until darkness shrouds them. Carries them in their dreams. See inside their minds through the haze of the fade. See what makes them tick. See what makes them them.  

Cremisius, Skinner, Dalish, Rocky, Stiches, Grim…the names carried to the Envy demon’s mind. The names beckoned it towards them. It will know everything about them before it puts on a new skin.

And then they will lead it…lead it to the skin it yearns to take – that of Nymrodel Lavellan.

~…..~

The next day, after a good night’s rest, the Chargers started making preparations for their trap.

“The problem is, the Envy can look inside your mind. It can come to you with a face of someone from your past and act exactly like it saw in your memories,” the apostate elf explained.

Stiches frowned at her words. “So how do we recognize an imposter then?”

“Whoever it tries to mimic, it will have to kill the original so it isn’t discovered before reaching Lavellan,” Skinner added.

“Which means it will attack one of us.”

“So what, we should just let it attack us,” Rocky asked with a grimace.

“As long as we all stay together, it won’t get a chance to infiltrate us. But there’s a good chance it will use trickery to try and separate us. That’s how Envy demons work. So we should create a fake opportunity for it instead. One of us gets lured away, so the demon attacks them thinking they’re vulnerable, and then we spring a trap on it instead,” Dalish grinned.

“We are so lucky to have an archer who is such an expert on the arcane,” Krem smirked, his teasing voice laced with sarcasm.

The others chuckled, and the apostate stuck her tongue out at him playfully.

Dalish continued, “And remember; this transition is when Envy is weakest, for it is vulnerable as it moves from body to body. We must strike at that exact moment.”

“So who’s gonna play the bait,” the dwarf asked.

They all looked at him silently, their stares already hinting at the answer.

“Oh, come on!” Rocky exclaimed through his shocked frustration.

“You don’t have a connection to the fade so you are least likely to be influenced by the demon,” Dalish explained with a shrug. She was still giving him that teasing stare, making the dwarf glower at her.

“Fine,” he exhaled in defeat, finally relenting. “Stupid mimic demons and fade-crap…,” he mumbled under his breath in annoyance, while he drank his ale - despite the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet. He called it ‘Breakfast Ale,’ and in return the Chargers called him an alcoholic dwarf…then again, isn’t that just a regular dwarf?

~…..~

Rocky walked around the market, minding his own business with a sour look on his face, when Krem approached him.

“Did you see anything suspicious,” his Lieutenant asked.

The dwarf grimaced behind his mustache. “Not yet. Are you sure the Envy demon will come after me? What if it attacks Dalish while everyone’s looking my way? I mean, she is a ma-…well, you know,” the man cleared his throat.

“All you need to do is listen to my orders, don’t question me,” Krem barked back in a sharp tone, giving Rocky a pointed stare for a moment.

The sapper was taken aback so much, he literary took a step back. “Yeah…alright, Lieutenant. You’re in charge,” he murmured, wanting to calm the Tevinter down. *What’s gotten into him all of a sudden? Maybe all this demon business has gotten to him. He must be stressed,* he concluded.  

“Come. We must prepare for the trap. It’s here,” the warrior turned his back to him and started walking away from the market in a brisk pace.

“I thought you already set the trap?”

Aclassi glanced over his shoulder, giving him another annoyed look. Right, he was questioning him again. Trotting after the warrior, Rocky tried to follow the hurried step as best he could.

It wasn’t long before they left the market and entered the winding narrow streets of the village. The road wasn’t paved anymore, but muddy and filled with horse dung. It clung to Rocky’s boots no matter how much he tried to avoid it. There were less and less people passing them by, until only the dwarf and his Lieutenant were walking through the area.

That was when Cremisius suddenly stopped. Not expecting it, the sapper almost bumped into his armored back.

“So tell me Rocky…why do you fight with the Chargers,” Krem abruptly asked.

The dwarf blinked, completely puzzled. “I’d think you’d know that best, Krem,” he answered humorously.

Krem looked dissatisfied with that answer and turned around in anger, his tanned face twisting into a snarl. “Answer me! I want to know!”

Once again, the dwarf took a step back. This time, for caution rather than surprise. His expression darkened as he watched his comrade in arms. “You’re not really Krem, are ya?”

The Tevinter let out a dry snicker, his usually-mellow face twisting into a hateful expression he never showed before. His voice changed, sounding like scraping of paper on drywall. “You are absolutely right. Now give me…give me all of yourself!” Krem charged at him, but before he had time to reach him, a ball of stone smashed into his side and sent him flying into the wall.

“Hah! Take that you soddin’ shit,” Rocky exclaimed in victory, albeit too soon.

“Rocky,” the real Krem called out with worry in his voice as he and the rest of the gang ran over to him, taking up arms.

“The plan worked!”

“It’s too early to celebrate. Look,” Skinner interrupted their merriment as she pointed at the fake Aclassi who was rising to his feet.

“He’s more resilient than the real deal,” Dalish mumbled darkly, taking her staff with both hands. For once, her expression was completely humorless.

The fake Krem molded into an old woman, who then started collapsing into herself like the body’s innards were being sucked dry, leaving nothing but a shed of skin. A clawed hand ripped through the skin, and a white monster emerged from what was once a person. The demon stood on its hind legs, towering over them all. It was even taller than the Iron Bull, who easily had two meters of height. There were no eyes on its scraggy skin, but deep reddened scars covered its hairless head.  

Dalish grimaced in disgust, “That is officially the creepiest thing I have ever seen.”

Hissing, the Envy demon opened its maws, showing its crooked teeth. It inverted its spine until it crawled on all six legs, like some deformed spider.

“Alright, I stand corrected. Because this is now the creepiest thing I have ever seen,” the elven mage pointed out.

Skinner was the first to move, running at the demon to try and flank its side, but the Envy was quicker. It swung its arm at her and flung the rogue away, sending her flying.

It pounced in the air and landed right in front of the real Krem, taking the warrior by surprise.

“You will do,” the demon screeched, just as Krem swung his sword at the monster.

The Tevinter gasped and blinked as the ambient around him suddenly changed. He wasn’t standing in some back alley of the village surrounded by his comrades, anymore. Instead, he was in a small glen, with nothing but trees and cobblestone paths that led into the unknown. Mist flowed through the area, obscuring his vision.

“What is this place? Where am I,” he called out, hoping someone could answer.

And someone did. “You are in your own mind…Here, I can see everything. Learn everything that you are…that you know.” It was that scraping voice of the Envy demon.

Krem shuddered. *Trapped inside my own mind? How is that possible? How do I get back?!?* He took a deep breath to avoid panicking, but swarms of questions wouldn’t leave him. He wondered what was happening in the real world, outside. Were the Chargers still fighting the demon, or were they imprisoned just like him? The only thing that brought him some comfort was the feeling of hard steel in his hands. He still held his sword and shield – his last line of defense against the Envy.

A voice came from behind him and he turned around quickly, widening his eyes at the sight. His parents stood there, the same as how he remembered them. Maker, how long has it been since he last saw them?

His mother’s voice sounded distorted, “You don’t like your own skin. Your own self feels wrong. Wouldn’t it be better to shed it away? To give it to me, instead?”

His father continued, “Wouldn’t it be better to give this wrong body away?”  

Krem clenched his jaw as hard as he clenched the sword in his hand. He wanted to lash out, to cut down these creatures that obviously weren’t his parents, but he was worried it would lead him into some kind of trap. He didn’t want to act rashly.

He took a step back instead of forward, but a voice came from his right this time. He quickly turned, shield raised.

It was his Qunari boss himself, but his eyes were different – glowing green. “Or maybe it’s your mind that is wrong. Distorted.”

As Krem’s chest squeezed in hurt, he could hear the loud beating of his heart in his ears. It was deafening. *No…The Chief would never say something like that. This place is all wrong. I need to get out. I need to find a way...* Scanning around, his eyes focused on the many paths that led out of the glen. *I’ll just pick one. It’s better than staying here.*

Just as he stepped forward, a sword came at him and he quickly blocked it with his shield. As he lowered it a little, he gasped, seeing himself right in front of him. The person looked exactly like him, except for those eerily glowing green eyes. In disdain, he noted the imposter was even armed the same.

“Tell me what you feel right now, as you look at yourself, like in the mirror! Like when you pretended to shave next to your father. Tell me what you think now,” the Other Krem demanded angrily, before he slammed his shield into Krem’s.

Krem stayed quiet, determined not to give the demon any information it was seeking. He knew it fed on knowledge, and he had no intention of giving it what it wanted. Instead, he sidestepped and pierced at the other’s outer thigh. He caught the other warrior by surprise, nt giving him time to react. Even if he looked like Krem, he apparently lacked his skills in combat. The Other Aclassi raised his sword and slashed down at the warrior, but he blocked with his shield. Another attack came, this time to his side, yet he blocked again. The hits were strong, tough, and he was slowly being pushed back.

The voices around him continued to speak, but luckily none of them were attacking. “Tell me. I want to know. I need to know! I need to take the skin for the Elder One! For myself!”

Right after another attack of the sword, the fake Cremisius tried to slam his shield into Krem’s chest. Krem sidestepped again and spun on his heel until he was at his side, where there was an opening between the front and back armor plate. He lunged at the other warrior, stabbing him through the ribs.

An angry cry came from the Fake Krem as he crumbled to the ground. He spurted black bile as he spoke, “You cannot defeat the Elder One! He will kill the Empress and raze Orlais to the ground with his demon army! He will destroy everything, just as he did at Haven! The Herald cannot-”

Before the demon could finish, a bright flash blinded Krem and he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet. He gasped when he was flung away, and fell to the ground with a loud clatter of his armor. He stared in shock, realizing what he was looking at wasn’t some dark misty sky, but instead normal, grey clouds of the real world. Sitting up, Aclassi could see Dalish standing in front of him with the end of her staff on the ground, like she just finished a spell. The Chargers surrounded him. Sighing in relief, he realized he had returned from that nightmarish place.

A loud cry came from the front and he saw the Envy demon slide back on the ground, twisting and turning its body to try and regain its footing. It looked in pain, although it was hard to tell. It was on the defensive now, pulling back from the dangerous force in front of it.

“Don’t let it get away,” Krem called out, quickly rising back to his feet.

The Envy demon suddenly twisted its spine to turn from them, four long legs on the ground. As it changed course, it quickly slithered towards a house and climbed on its wall with astonishing speed.

Dalish hurled a fireball from her staff and Skinner an arrow from her bow, but both missed as the demon quickly slid across the rooftop and disappeared.

“After it,” their Lieutenant shouted.

“How? We can’t climb buildings like it can,” Skinner argued with a scowl.

The Tevinter clicked his tongue in frustration. He was getting too worked up, but after his experience with the Envy demon, it wasn’t surprising. “Dammit! We were so close!”

Dalish put her hands on his chest to calm him down. It looked like he was about to storm off after the demon by himself. “Hey, calm down. What happened?”

“Yeah, it looked like you zoned out for a second, and almost got eaten,” the sapper added with an equally worried expression as the mage.

Cremisius closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down and think. “The Envy demon…it somehow trapped me inside my own mind. How long was I out? It felt like at least half an hour…”

The Chargers all looked at each other with curious stares. Finally, their healer talked, “You were just staring into space when the Envy attacked, but it didn’t even last a full minute. As soon as Dalish saw it was going for you, she stepped in front and blasted it away with some spell.”

He blinked, “It felt much longer in my head.”

“Good thing we were here, huh? If you had fought with it alone, it would’ve cut you down while you were in yer trance,” Rocky grinned proudly.

Krem gave him a small smile, “You’re right. I’m lucky you have my back.”

“And don’t ever forget it,” Skinner smirked.

“….,” Grim agreed.

“But the demon got away…now we have to start all over again.” Dalish sighed in disappointment.

“It won’t stop until it has one of us, I’m sure of that. It’s relentless. It will come at us again,” Aclassi stated darkly – he could sense the lust for knowledge when he met Envy in his mind, along with the greed behind it. This demon won’t give up that easily. “And it will be more careful and shrewder next time.”

“What happened inside your mind?”

Putting on a troubled face, he glowered at the memory. He didn’t want to worry his friends, but some of that was too personal and too fresh to share at a time like this. His parents, everything the Envy demon said…He decided to tell the less private part of it, “It mentioned the Elder One. It even confirmed he is planning to kill Empress Celene and march a demon army across Orlais. But it’s nothing new; we already knew that from the Inquisitor’s time in that Dark Future he was thrown into.”

“Then let’s just focus on bringin’ the soddin’ bastard down,” Rocky pointed out. “The next time I see it, I’m gonna blast the shit out of it!”

~…..~

It failed. How could it fail! Anger. Hurt. Pain where the mage’s spell hit. Frustration. How could those little creatures hurt it!? How could they overpower it!? It was seething with rage, with envy. It should be the most powerful.

Not enough information. Not enough knowledge. That is why it failed!

Next time it won’t fail! Next time it will take its new skin! The appropriate skin! Cremisius Aclassi! Aclassi will die for this! Die for this!

It roared in pain and anger, slithering through narrow, muddy backstreets like a wounded animal. Next time, it will separate them. Kill them one by one. Be them one by one! It needed a new skin now.

It rummaged through Aclassi’s memories. Memories of the Chargers. Memories of the Inquisition. What hurt him the most while he was trapped? What made him react the most while the Envy talked to him?

What was most important to each of them? Who was important to each of them?

It needed to learn. It needed to know everything. It needed to become more.

~……~

The next morning, Dalish practically invaded Krem’s room as she slammed the doors open. She barged in just as Krem was changing into his clothes.

“This is bad!” The elf exclaimed, ignoring Krem’s bound breasts while the other fumbled with his shirt in a hurry.

He quickly pulled the shirt down, working on his boots next. “I’ll say! Don’t just barge in here!”  

“Oh, please, like I’ve never seen you naked before. Besides, it’s nothing I don’t have myself. You want to make me uncomfortable? Show me Rocky’s naked form again. On the other hand, don’t. That one time on accident was enough for me. That man is all hair, I tell you.” She shuddered at the memory, her pretty features twisting into an expression of disgust.

“Dalish! Focus,” the warrior snapped his fingers, bringing the apostate back to reality.

“Oh, right,” she blinked. “Everyone’s down already so come quickly. You won’t like this.” She closed the doors and disappeared as abruptly as she entered – the woman was like a hurricane.

After their battle with the demon yesterday, the Chargers took up lodgings in the village. Luckily, the local tavern also rented out rooms upstairs, so they didn’t have to look far.

Krem quickly put on the rest of his clothes and armor, then went downstairs. He could see the rest of his group leaning out the window, pushing each other to see outside. Voices boomed from the outside, in the village square, and he strode towards the open doors to see what was happening. A large crowd was gathering outside, surrounding a wooden platform that the village used for news criers or executions. The person currently standing on it and giving a speech in a Nevarran accent is what glued the Chargers’ attention to the sight. They would recognize those harsh features and dark eyes any day. It was none other than the Seeker, Cassandra Pentaghast.

“Wasn’t the Seeker supposed to be somewhere in the mountains, rebuilding the Inquisition?” Rocky’s face constricted into a puzzled frown.

“Yes. There’s no way she would be here…right?” Stiches glanced at Krem, a bit unsure.

“:….,” Grim grunted in agreement.

They couldn’t believe what they were seeing, and neither could Krem. But that was hardly the worst part. It was her speech that really shook the Chargers in the first place.

The woman spoke loudly so all the Village could hear. “This mercenary company, the Bull’s Chargers, are so-called troops of the Inquisition, but that is not so! The truth is, they are traitors of the Inquisition. They are deserters, criminals! When Haven was attacked, they fled instead of standing their ground and fighting the enemy forces! They are to blame for Haven’s fall! The Inquisition’s fall! I, Cassandra Pentaghast, as one of the founders of the Inquisition, tell you this – the Bull’s Chargers should be captured on sight and brought to me for justice!”

The Chargers gaped at her words, realizing the Seeker was turning the whole Village against them.

“I bet you my bow that isn’t really the Seeker,” Dalish mumbled.

“You think,” Skinner retorted sardonically.

“It doesn’t matter, if the villagers believe her,” the Lieutenant answered bitterly.

A clatter of chairs around them was what brought them out of their engrossing conversation. Feeling the burning gazes on them, the Chargers all turned around slowly. Some of the people in the tavern recognized them and were now eyeing them suspiciously. A few of the bulkier men slowly stood up, reaching for their daggers.

“Prepare to run,” Skinner whispered to her comrades under her breath.  

Krem cautiously glanced around for a way out, since the front doors were out of the question. He saw a backroom behind the bar and guessed it led to the storage room, and then to the back alley. Those storage rooms usually had a door that connected with the street, to easily bring new supplies in. “There,” he gestured with his chin to the doors, careful not to alarm the villagers of their intentions.

Skinner nodded, then quickly threw two flasks on the ground. As they shattered on impact, a thick smoke spread across the room, obscuring everyone’s vision. “Let’s go,” Krem yelled and the Chargers ran for the room behind the bar. He pushed the villagers aside as he ran, but didn’t hurt any of them. The last thing he wanted was to additionally demonize the Chargers – the Envy was already doing a good job of it on its own.

His speculation proved correct and they soon found themselves in the back alley, behind the tavern. They could hear confused and angry shouts from behind, and knew it was only a matter of time before their pursuers called for backup. They couldn’t stay there a moment longer.

~…..~

Dalish sighed, “So what do we do now?”

Grim grunted in displeasure.

“Yeah, it’s not my favorite place to be either, but we don’t really have a lot of choices,” Stiches sighed.

“I think I have straw in my trousers,” the dwarf grumbled.

They managed to sneak out of the village and towards the farmlands. They were currently hiding in a large barn, on the outskirts of the village. But all of them knew it was only a matter of time before someone notices them. The horses moved in agitation in their boxes, snorting at the uninvited guests. The mercenaries sat in hay, trying to ignore the strong stench of animals and manure.  

“So the Envy won a battle. Now we’re even. We can still turn it around,” Rocky continued.

“It has a whole village after us,” Krem groaned in frustration. He put his head in his hands and ruffled his short hair, desperately searching for a solution.

“Pssst.”

A soft voice startled the Chargers and they turned towards the barn gates. There, a young girl of no more than 8 hid behind the gates, staring at them suspiciously. She whisperingly called out to them, “Are you the bad people my papa is after?”

The mercenaries glanced at each other, perplexed. If the girl suspected they were ‘the bad people,’ why talk to them instead of running to call an adult?

“Your papa?”

The girl nodded. Her blonde hair, tied in two braids, danced around her freckled face. “He is the village official,” she said with a voice filled with pride, although it sounded like something she memorized without understanding the meaning of it clearly.

The Chargers glanced at each other, before huddling into a circle to whisper among themselves, “You think he would believe us if we tell him the village was infiltrated by a demon that can take other people’s identities?”

“Without proof?”

“Maybe if we explained it in detail…”

“Or maybe he calls reinforcements and we end up on that pretty platform with a noose around our necks.”

“Whatcha talking about?” A sudden voice right behind them made the mercenaries jump in start. They turned around to see the girl rocking on her heels, hands behind her back, as she watched them curiously. “Mama says it’s not nice to whisper to each other in front of others,” she pouted, feeling excluded from the conversation.

“Well didn’t mama also teach you not to talk to strangers,” Skinner asked in an annoyed tone that clearly suggested “scram.”

The other elf elbowed her in the ribs and gave her a warning, sideways look.

The girl hummed, watching the elven rogue with two big green eyes. “But you’re the ones hiding in our barn,” she countered.

Rocky snickered, “Heh. Got you there.”

“We aren’t bad people. We just…got into a little bit of trouble,” Cremisius started to explain. “There is a bad creature after us, and we need to find it before it hurts anyone.”

“What…kind of creature?” The girl drew back a step, suddenly appearing fearful.

He exhaled slowly. *Great, now I frightener her,* he chastised himself mentally. “A demon.”

Suddenly tense, the girl bit her lip. After a while of thought, she spoke up again, “Then…you will kill that demon, right?”  

The mage apostate whistled, “This is one dangerous kid.”

“We’re trying to,” their healer mumbled in disdain.

“Then I’ll help!” She suddenly announced, giving them a determined smile. “My name is Luca!”

“Whoa, wait a second! That’s too dangerous,” Stiches protested.

“Nice to meet you, Luca. We are the Bull’s Chargers,” Dalish ignored the healer, introducing them to the girl.

Luca blinked, tilting her head to the side inquisitively, “Who’s Bull?”

The Chargers all grinned as if she just said an amusing joke. “Someone you definitely don’t want to piss off.”

“And that also holds true for his men,” their Lieutenant added with a dangerous smirk.

~…..~

The girl brought them some food from the house, along with a map of the village by Krem’s request. She even showed them the best ways to move about without too many people noticing – “back streets where she often played with her friends without the grownups catching them,” she explained.

“Now be a good girl and stay inside your house. Don’t go out until the demon is taken care of,” the elven mage warned her like a stern older sister.

“Yes, ma’am,” the girl answered, albeit begrudgingly.

The Chargers were just about to leave when a sharp scream coming from the inner village drew their attention. Luca gasped in fright, “What was that.”

“Go inside, now,” Aclassi ordered, then nodded for his companions to move out.

As the girl ran back to her house, the Chargers hurried towards the sounds of screams. The noises got louder as people shuffled and commented in fearful, hushed voices. They stopped dead in their tracks at a grim scene. A woman was standing over what was once a body, but now looked as if nothing but skin remained, while everything else was sucked dry. A crowd of people was already gathering around the panicking woman as they examined the dead body with disgust. The villagers whispered in shock among themselves.

“I-it looks like the butcher, Vance.”

“Who…What did this?”

“A demon!? Was it some kind of demon?”

“How? How did he end up like this…It’s just skin, with no guts or bones.”

Krem turned towards the Chargers, whispering, “Once again, the demon has changed identity and left the old one behind.”

Just then he saw a familiar face running towards them. “Luca! Didn’t we tell you to stay home?” He scowled at the reckless child.  

“But he told me to get you. That it was important. He…told me to tell you he is also with the Inquisition. That he was sent to help…with the demon,” she whispered with a knowing stare.

The mercenaries glanced at each other dubiously. “Who did?”

A troubled shadow passed over her expression. “Um…I didn’t catch his name. But he said he was here to help you – the Bull’s Chargers, he said.”

“It could be a trap,” Skinner murmured into her Lieutenant’s ear.

“Still better than running around blindly. Just stay on your guard,” he responded back in a whisper.  

Alas, the Chargers had no time to catch a break and think of what will come next. “Hey, it’s them! The traitors of the Inquisition Seeker Pentaghast mentioned,” one of the villagers shouted as he spotted the mercenaries. As he pointed towards them, all eyes turned to them. Deadly stares pierced them.

“I bet they were the ones responsible for this murder,” a woman screamed in anger.

Soon, every gaze was filled with bloodlust. “Get them!”

The villagers, armed with barely any weapons yet outnumbering the mercenaries, rushed at them in blind rage.

“Shit. We can’t hurt civilians,” Krem warned with a shout, but they were getting overpowered by sheer numbers. He dodged one fist, then blocked a knife before tackling a villager to the ground. Attacked and overrun by the village folk, the Chargers had no choice but to split up. “Just run! We’ll meet up at the farm,” Aclassi relayed to his companions and turned to escape. He saw Skinner and Dalish disappear around the corner of the closest alley. Rocky and Stiches also made it out of the crowd, and were running in another direction. He sought out Grim with his eyes and saw him do an arm throw on one man over his back. He tried to rejoin him, but a group of villagers stood between them. “Go,” he mouthed to Grim, then turned to run into the closes alleyway, praying to the Maker it wasn’t a dead-end.

~…..~

“Are you sure this is the right way,” Dalish asked, trying to regain her labored breathing. Both she and Skinner stopped to catch their breaths momentarily. With Skinner’s roguish skills, they somehow managed to hide from the villagers. She held her breath in earnest while she watched the angry shems pass them by without noticing them.

“How should I know, I’ve never been to this backwater village before,” Skinner growled in annoyance. Not at the mage, but at the situation in general. All this running and hiding was pissing her off, and she was supposed to be used to it as a rogue. “I’m really starting to hate this place.”

“What, you think we should leave the villagers to their fates, then,” the apostate asked tauntingly, knowing full well Skinner wouldn’t really want that.

The other elf snorted. She was peeved, but not yet so callous to doom these ignorant shems for their stupidity. They needed to kill the Envy; if nothing else, for that little runt girl who helped them. And also, because the damned demon was really starting to get on her nerves.

The apostate smirked, getting the answer she wanted even if Skinner didn’t actually say anything. “Then let’s go meet up with the others.”

Skinner opened her mouth to retort when she noticed a familiar dwarf passing around the corner. “There. Rocky!” She grabbed Dalish by the wrist, and pulled her into a run after the dwarf.

“Hey, wait!” She exclaimed in surprise, but the rogue wouldn’t let go.

As they reached around the corner, there was no one there. And nothing but a dead-end.

“How can that be? I was sure I saw him,” Skinner muttered.

Dalish narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She stayed quiet, carefully listening around them and sensing for any insidious aura. Feeling something coming from behind, she spun around swiftly, only to see Rocky standing behind them.

“What are ye guys doing? Come on, let’s go,” the dwarven sapper called out, stepping towards them.

Skinner huffed, “Rocky, you scared the crap out of us.”

“Wait.” Dalish stopped her elven friend from proceeding any further. “We can’t know if that’s the real Rocky,” she warned.

“By the Ancestors, Dalish! Of course I’m the real Rocky. Aren’t I unique,” he laughed in jest.

“Sure sounds like him with that bad sense of humor,” the rogue muttered bleakly.

“Do not be fooled, we can’t know for certain.”

“Alright, then ask me anything. I’ll answer right, you’ll see,” the dwarf challenged.

But Dalish knew the Envy demon listened in and pried in people’s minds. It studied and learned of its future victims. Of its future identities it would take. Even if Rocky answered her questions correctly, it didn’t necessarily mean it’s not the Envy pretending to be him. And she could still feel this nagging feeling somewhere in the back of her mind. Finally, the mage smirked. “I have a better idea.” She summoned a fireball in her hand.

“Uhh, Dalish,” Skinner asked, starting to feel uncertain.

“Are ya crazy, Dalish?! That’ll kill me,” Rocky exclaimed in alarm.

“Mmm-hmm.” The fireball in her hand grew bigger, the fire swirling around as the heat intensified. “Don’t worry. If you get too burned, I’ll heal you,” she nonchalantly retorted.

Cold sweat appeared on Skinner’s temple and neck. She gulped as she saw the dwarf panic even more than her.

“Dalish!” Rocky screamed and Skinner gasped, as she threw the fireball at him.

Yet the dangerous spell never hit. Rocky disappeared from the spot, the fireball flying past and hitting a wall behind him. Instead, what used to be Rocky, swiftly dodged by jumping onto a wall where it was now crawling across. The Envy demon growled as its four long legs and two small, atrophied ones, scrapped on the stone.

“How dare you! You, who wasn’t even wanted by your own Clan,” the demon hissed in spite as it snarled at the apostate.

Dalish glared at the white creature, her tone turning murderous, “Don’t talk like you know me.”

Skinner clicked her tongue in irate and quickly threw three daggers at the creature. The Envy slithered away, but one hit its long leg, making the demon screech in pain. It suddenly jumped off the wall, right towards the two elves.

Dalish summoned a blast of energy to push it away, but not before the demon clawed at Skinner. The rogue dodged to the side, but one sharp claw scraped her forearm, ripping through her sleeve and all the way to the skin. The apostate’s spell managed to push the demon away and Envy slammed into the wall.

Ignoring her wounds, the rogue lunged at Envy, taking out her dual daggers from her sides. She spun on her heels, slashing at the demon horizontally and slicing through its thin legs.

With an angry screech, the demon grabbed the rogue with its other two legs and tried to sink its teeth into her flesh. It got a mouthful of pure energy from Dalish’ spell instead. It hissed angrily, before jumping up and digging its claws into the stone wall. Clinging to the wall, it started climbing, scuttling upwards on its four legs.

“It’s getting away,” the mage shouted in alarm, throwing another fireball at the demon.

The fireball missed as the demon disappeared on the rooftops. But it did not run away entirely. Dalish and Skinner could hear its voice echoing around them, even though they couldn’t pinpoint its exact location.

“Two little elves…One suffering in the alienage, the other abandoned by her Clan. Poor little elves…,” a mocking tone of Envy sang.

“Why don’t you say that to my face, you coward,” Skinner shouted in anger, glaring at the empty space around her.

Envy’s voice continued, undisturbed by her threats, “Why aren’t you with your Clan, Dalish? Even though you are a mage…you should be a Keeper’s First. Or….did the Clan already have too many mages,” the demon guessed.

Dalish’s eye twitched – a subtle change in her expression the demon instantly caught. It fed on knowledge about people, after all, so it was an expert on studying them.

“Aaah,” the demon noted in interest. “So that is it…Your Keeper chose someone else instead of you, so you were left behind. You weren’t good enough.”

The elven apostate gripped her staff tighter as a painful pang stung her chest, even as she tried to hide it.

“Shut up, you bastard!” Skinner retorted instead of her. “Don’t listen to it, it’s only trying to mess with your mind!”

“I know,” Dalish murmured, narrowing her eyes at the demon she couldn’t see.

“Oh! And there is the other one. Always so tough, aren’t you? Always ready to argue.” The Envy turned its attention to Skinner. “Hiding under that thick skin. Who could ever want such a belligerent person by their side,” the demon cackled.

Skinner snarled. “You have nothing on me, demon.”

The monster cackled again, this time sounding like nails scraping against a wall. “Not yet.”

With that last threat, the malicious presence around them suddenly disappeared.

“Is it gone,” Skinner asked the mage, unsure and still rigid from being on guard.

Dalish was silent for a while, listening and feeling the atmosphere. Then she nodded. “I believe so.”

The rogue sighed. “At least we managed to wound it.”

The mage tightened her jaw in irate, “And you got hurt in the process…Show me your arm, I’ll heal it.”

“I’m fine,” the other complained, but stretched out her arm for her anyway. As she saw a blue healing light envelope her forearm, she glanced at Dalish’ focused face. “About what the demon said-,” she started carefully, not wanting to antagonize her friend.

Dalish interrupted her before she could finish, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just trying to get a reaction out of us so it can trick us into revealing more about ourselves. Don’t take the bait.”

It was evident she didn’t want to talk about it, so Skinner respected her wishes and left it be. “All right.”

~…..~

Cremisius cursed under his breath as he snuck around the streets, clad in a stolen cape he found drying on a nearby rope. The dark grey cloth concealed his heavy armor and the hood kept his Tevinter features from plain view.

*I have no time to waste, I need to find the others.* He picked up his pace and walked in a hurry, cringing every time his armor rattled under his step, bringing about unwanted attention from the passersby. One thing he couldn’t get out of his mind was what Luca said earlier; “He came to help you!”

*Yet who is he,* Krem asked himself, despite being unable to find an answer. He headed for the farm the Chargers agreed to meet at, but he doubted they could stay there long without endangering the little girl. *Surely her parents won’t help us now, either. Not after what they witnessed in the village. Everyone thinks we are responsible,* he sighed mentally.  

That’s when he spotted them – Grim, Rocky and Stiches, talking with someone, heatedly flailing their arms. He jogged closer to the group and gasped when he saw they were talking to none other than the Iron Bull; well, Stiches and Rocky did all the talking and Grim made grunting noises. The Qunari hid his horns and face with a cape much like Krem’s, but he could hardly hide his large frame. He was starting to attract attention. The rest of his comrades added to that as they continued explaining to him everything that happened in a confusing rush.

“Chief,” Krem exclaimed, his heart suddenly feeling a whole ton lighter. He couldn’t help but widen his lips in a relieved smile, his brown eyes sparkling with life.

Bull noticed him approaching and gave him that wide, confident grin of his. So this is who Luca meant when she said an agent of the Inquisition came to help them.

“I heard from Red that you’ve encountered a pretty nasty demon, so I came to lend a hand. Seems like you need it,” the Qunari’s grin never faltered.

Krem gave a nervous smile, but for just a second there, Bull’s words felt off. *No, well, if he headed to Ferelden right after receiving our message, it’s not strange that he got here in time. I should be glad. But…then why am I feeling like this?* A part of him was relieved, but something was itching deep under his skin. “Seems like you needed it,” he said. *Well that’s true…But it’s not like we are well over our heads with this mission,* he mulled over the words. Didn’t the Chief usually have more confidence in them?

The odd feeling was discarded when Rocky interrupted his thoughts, “We should get away from here before the villagers notice us.”

“That’s right. We agreed to meet with the others at a farm nearby,” the healer informed Bull.

Bull nodded, “Let’s not waste any more time, then.”

~…...~

As they walked on the unpaved path towards the farmlands again, the Chargers kept talking to the Iron Bull with relieved smiles on their faces, telling him of everything they encountered on their mission so far.

Bull laughed, “You’ve been busy. Don’t worry, now that I’m here, we can’t lose, right? Just listen to me and that demon will be food for the vultures…uhh, do vultures even feast on demons?”

Rocky laughed, “It’s good to have you back with us, Chief.”

Krem gave a weak smile, but he still couldn’t shake off this funny feeling he had. The Qunari sounded like Bull and yet…just a little bit off. “Hey. What exactly happened in Haven?”

Bull hummed in question, glancing over his broad shoulder at Krem. “Haven?” His tone barely sounded concerned. “A shitstorm, that’s what. They were completely obliterated.”

“Don’t you mean ‘you,’” he corrected. “You were there too, right?”

Bull blinked with one good eye, then smirked. “Hey, I’m not so weak that I would die there, so no, not me.”

Now even Grim, Stiches and Rocky stopped walking, watching the Iron Bull curiously. That didn’t sound like something he would say. But an Envy demon….that thing would never admit that it wasn’t strong enough. That it lost to something.

Suddenly, he felt his throat and lips go dry and he swallowed, before licking his lips to wet them. He decided to ask one final question. One thing that would really lift any veil of deception left. “Chief…You know, I always wanted to thank you…you accepted me into your Company and made me your second-in-command…even though I’m not really a man. Doesn’t it bother you sometimes? After all, Qunari don’t have women warriors, right?”

In truth, Krem and the Iron Bull had a similar conversation about this long ago. It was when the Chargers and Bull decided to appoint Krem as their Lieutenant. He didn’t know how to respond at the time, especially after his dreadful experiences in the Imperium military. But even to this day, he remembered what Bull had told him then.

The Iron Bull in front of him smiled, though there seemed to be a glint of annoyance in his eye. As if wordlessly telling him to stop wasting his time on such nonsense. “Hey, come on Krem, I don’t care that you’re not a real man. You know that already.”

Cremisius huffed. A small smile lingered on his lips, but his eyes were blank now. He was far from happy. “Close, but not quite right, Chief,” he muttered. He took out his sword from the sheath on his hip. The rest of the Chargers took a step back from the Qunari, realizing it wasn’t their leader.

Grim was the first to attack, swinging down with his giant two-handed sword. Bull jumped backwards, dodging the blow, then took the large axe from his back. With a roar, he swung downward once, right in the middle of where the Chargers were standing. The axe shook the ground, splitting it around the weapon and rising the dust in the air, until a cloud enveloped everyone and obscured their vision.

Coughing, Krem put a hand over his face to try and shield his mouth and eyes from the dust. When the cloud settled and he opened his teary eyes, he saw something large and white running across the high grass and into a golden-colored cornfield. It disappeared from sight, and he could only see the wheat stalks shaking wildly as it passed through them.    

Grim have a grunt, bringing everyone’s attention. He was pointing in the direction of where the demon disappeared, but also past that.

“Grim’s right. The farmhouse we are about to meet at is that way.”

“Luca,” Stiches exclaimed in alarm.

They ran for the farmhouse, cutting their way through the cornfields just like the Envy demon did.

“Sod it all, dwarfs weren’t made for running,” Rocky shouted while he legged behind as they ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Arriving at the barn they hid in before, they could see Dalish and Skinner already waiting for them. They stopped for a second, completely breathless. Both Grim and Krem wore heavy armor and Rocky had to work twice as hard to keep up, so they were all drained by the time they finally arrived.

“What’s going on,” Dalish asked, seeing the men were in distress.

“The demon…it went for the farmhouse. Did you see it?”

“Uhh...no?”

“It might already be inside with Luca,” Krem realized in dread.

The Chargers all gazed towards the small house connected to the farm. Luca’s home.

“We need to check it out,” Stiches demanded.

Grim nodded in agreement, staying silent but tense.

“Then what are we waiting for,” Skinner growled, taking deliberate steps towards the house.

The Chargers all followed suit, even as the woman practically burst through the unlocked doors.

“Hello!? Anyone here!?” Dalish called out, clutching at her bow with a crystal on top, with both hands.

“What should we tell the people living here? ‘Hello, we just committed a crime of breaking and entering, but it’s for your own good,’” Krem asked with a sigh.

“Who cares?! If they complain about the door, just tell them the demon did it,” the rogue shrugged.

“Guys!” A high-pitched, happy voice made them all flinch and turn around. They saw those familiar big green eyes glinting in excitement.

“Luca! You’re ok,” Stiches smiled warmly, feeling relieved.

“Come! Meet my new friend. He said he’d keep me company until mama and papa arrive. But he said you’ll be joining us too,” she squealed. She took Krem’s fingers in her tiny hand and dragged him into the other room, still talking. The rest of the group followed after them. “He’s a man, but he’s really pretty. And his face is painted, like Dalish, but different. And he has strange white hair, and funny ears like Dalish and Skinner…Ah, cause he’s an elf!”

The group glanced at each other in wonder, then laid eyes on an elf sitting in an old chair, legs crossed. He smiled politely, but there was a burning hunger and malice in those big crystal-blue eyes.

“He said he’s the Herald of Andraste,” Luca continued, running over to him.

“Luca, don’t!” Krem tried to stop her but it was too late. The girl already joined the white-haired elf, and the man put a hand on her shoulder as he drew her closer to him.

The one with the face of Lavellan smirked at the Chargers, “It’s the Inquisitor now, actually. Humans are so fickle, they can’t even decide what to call me,” he chuckled, but there was something malevolent in that act.

“Let go of her. Now,” Aclassi hissed, glaring at the fake elf.

The girl blinked in confusion. “What’s wrong, Krem? Aren’t you all friends? The Herald said you were friends.”

The tattoos on Nymrodel’s face twisted along with his expression, as he grinned slyly. “That’s right…Aren’t we all friends, Krem?”

Skinner took a step forward, but as soon as she did, Nymrodel’s hand on Luca’s shoulder squeezed. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to make the Chargers realize the demon was holding her hostage and had no qualms about killing her.

“What do you want, demon?” Dalish purposely called him that, to enlighten Luca on the dangerous reality of the situation.

Luca’s eyes widened in fear, “Demon?” Her voice wavered, suddenly sounding small and soft.

“Don’t worry, Luca. We won’t let it hurt you,” the Tevinter announced in confidence.

His determination didn’t go well with the demon, however. “Oh, is that so? Such hollow confidence…for someone so insecure inside.”

The girl started struggling in the demon’s grip, but it held her with vice-like strength now, bruising her shoulder. “No! Let go!”

“Just tell us what you want,” Krem seethed in anger.

“You.” The demon grinned and stood up slowly, still holding the girl close to him. “I want to know all about you. And then, all about the Inquisition and Nymrodel Lavellan, through you.”

He gulped, remembering how easily the Envy demon invaded his mind before. But he also recalled another fact; when he defeated it in his mind, it weakened it somewhat, giving the others a chance to wound it. Perhaps, he can do it again. “And if I agree, you will let the girl go?”

“When I learn all I can from you, I will let the girl go,” Envy promised with a sly smile. His tongue licked his lips like a starving man in front of a feast. It might have had Nym’s face, but that was where all similarities ended.

“Don’t be a fool, Lieutenant. Demons always trick you in the end. No deal can end well with them,” Dalish argued, glaring at the fake Herald.

Krem smiled back at her, “That’s why I have you to watch my back.” He gave her a knowing smile that made Dalish stop mid-argument and stare at him in interest.

“Alright, demon. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he glowered back at Envy.

The demon screeched in glee, its voice nothing like something an elf would produce. In the next instant as Krem blinked, he realized he wasn’t in the farmhouse’s living area anymore. Instead, he was back at those strange crossroads in the glen, enveloped by a thick mist.

“Last time you tried to defeat me here, you failed Envy,” he gloated, shouting at the air.

“This time will be different. This time I know even more about you, Tevinter,” a voice responded from seemingly nowhere.

People started appearing around him again, and Krem instinctively took out his sword and shield, preparing for battle. He swallowed hard when he realized the people surrounding him were his friends – Dalish, Skinner, Rocky, Stiches, Grim and even the Iron Bull. They were all here, staring at him blankly with those greenly glowing eyes.

They all spoke in unison, like they shared a collective mind, “Let us begin, Cremisius Aclassi.”

~…..~

“I can’t believe that idiot let himself be pulled into the demon’s trap,” Skinner barked, completely enraged by the situation.

Grim growled, concurring with her.

“Calm down, it’s not over yet. He knows what he’s doing, so let’s believe in him,” Dalish muttered, still staring intently at the eerie person in front of them.

Envy held onto the struggling girl, staring back at the apostate. “Do not worry, elf. You will be next.” It smiled reassuringly, yet it came out looking twisted.

“You’re cornered. You have nowhere to run,” their healer glared at it.

The demon hissed. Its laugh sounded like it was choking on paper. “We shall see-,” it suddenly cut off, its eye – Nym’s eye – twitching.

The Chargers watched it in confusion as they saw it jerk its head in anger, then growl, as if it was fighting a battle inside its own mind. No, inside Krem’s mind.

~…..~

Krem ran, although with labored steps from all his heavy armor and weapons. He didn’t stay in that glen like last time, but instead chose a cobblestone path and started on it. He was trying to keep his distance from the things chasing him – things that still held the form of his friends.

The path was winding, leading through the trees as a glen turned into a forest. The mist kept sticking to his limbs as if trying to pull him back and slow him down. He could hear numerous footsteps behind him, thundering on the cobblestone without any rhythm. They were getting closer.

*Now,* he told himself and swiftly turned around, rising his sword and shield. He didn’t wait to see who it was – didn’t want to see. He blocked an incoming sword and stabbed with his own weapon, piercing the attacker’s chest. Two light grey eyes widened as they stared at him, confusion and pain in them, as if wordlessly asking him ‘Why?’ Krem found himself face to face with the scarred face he would always recognize. “Stiches,” he whispered, aching guilt dripping from his words. He wanted to apologize, to explain, but stopped himself. *It’s not really him. This is all a lie! It’s not him,* he kept repeating in his mind.

He saw a flash of metal coming from his side and quickly pulled his sword from the healer’s chest, stepping back and raising his shield. The impact from the large sword was so heavy and strong, it almost brought him to his knees. His shield arm was numb with pain coursing through it from the blow. But years of training steeled his grip, and he held the shield up despite his shaking arm. He saw an armored warrior in front of him, wielding a giant two-handed sword that was almost as long as he was. “Grim,” Krem stated sourly.

The person said nothing, only attacked again, swinging his sword at him horizontally. Krem held his shield to block, digging his feet into the ground so he wouldn’t be swept away by the strong blow. On impact, the metal of his shield rang like a loud bell across the dark forest. The shield resonated and shook, as he felt another stab of coursing pain in his forearm. Even as he supported his shield with his shoulder, he still felt the sharp impact in his wrist. Grim’s broadsword was a force to be reckoned with, and so was the man himself. He was much brawnier than he appeared. Krem knew his shield arm wouldn’t be able to take many more of those strong blows, but it was hard to find an opening and leap forth to attack - Grim’s sword was much broader and longer than his longsword.

A voice echoed from the darkness around him. “Give up. Wouldn’t it be easier to just let go. It is just a matter of time. Your friends will die, and then you…But ‘you’ will come back to the Inquisition as the lone survivor of the demon hunt.”

The Tevinter gritted his teeth, “Like I’ll let that happen!”

“Like I’ll let that happen,” Envy repeated in the same tone. It sounded disturbingly close to his own voice.

He waited for another horizontal strike from Grim’s sword, aimed for his head, then crouched low and jumped down into a side-roll to avoid it. Rolling back to his feet, still in a crouch, he slashed with his sword. The slice cut into the man’s thigh just above the knee - he had to aim for places that weren’t heavily armored in steel.

The fake Grim stumbled, but stayed on his feet. He swung with both hands, bringing his weapon down towards Krem’s head. Aclassi was still down on one knee when he lifted his shield to block the attack as best he could. The strong impact rattled his arm, but he took that opportunity to push the shield up and to the side, sliding the weapon away with it and leaving Grim open. He stabbed upwards with his sword, piercing the man’s side, just below the ribs. Grim doubled over and took a few steps back, the sword sliding out of him. He groaned in pain, hacking blood as he coughed.

Krem could hear more footsteps approaching and glanced to see the Chargers running towards them, armed to the teeth. With one final slash of his sword, he sliced Grim’s throat and ended his suffering – if it could even be called ‘an end’ for an apparition.

He was breathing hard, tired an aching, but he started his run again. It was his only tactic – run until one or two opponents caught up, then defeat them before the others join the fight, and then run again. He glanced over his shoulder again, seeing two bodies of his friends bleeding lifelessly on the ground. He clenched his jaw in anger, ignoring the guilt bubbling inside him, as he knew full well it was what the demon was counting on. Without looking back, he escaped the bloody scene.

“Aaargh! Useless! Useless! Just give up and let me subdue you! You think I am not learning of you this way? But I am. Your every reaction, every emotion, every expression; it all tells me of you! It all helps me to know you!” Envy screamed after him from the darkness, but it sounded angry now. Less patient than before.

Aclassi smirked at the frustration in its voice. This was working. And he was sure it was also having effect on the Envy outside. He only had to hold out long enough for his comrades to finish the job. He knew they could do it. He believed in each and every one of them.  

~…..~

Envy twitched again, this time letting out a soft growl.

The Chargers understood it was experiencing something…something was happening inside of Krem’s mind and it was making it lose its concentration. It wasn’t focused on the girl so much either.

Dalish saw Luca catch her breath and watch her silently. She gave a tiny nod to the girl. Not long ago, it was a gesture the Envy would surely notice and act upon, but not this time. It was too preoccupied battling inside of Krem’s mind.

Skinner also noticed it and she stepped a bit behind Dalish, masking her movement from clear view. She carefully took out a throwing knife, keeping her eyes on the twitching creature. The next moment happened in a split of a second, but it all felt as if in slow-motion. Skinner threw her knife and it pierced the fake Nym’s shoulder of the arm that was still holding Luca. With a surprised yelp, the demon momentarily loosened its grip, allowing the girl to wriggle herself out and escape. The demon reached after her as she frantically ran towards the Chargers, but it was stopped when a shower of wooden splinters flew at it.

Dalish used her magic to crumble a chair and used those sharp pieces of wood like weapons, sending them flying with great speed towards the demon.

Nym’s body dissolved before their eyes, rising in stature as the new body towered over them. Even for a demon, Envy looked deformed in its true form. It screeched at them in anger.    

Rocky sneered in disgust, “Paragon’s balls! No matter how many a time I see its ugly-ass form, it still makes me want to vomit.”

“Luca, run outside and tell the villagers what happened,” Stiches ordered her, pushing the girl out of the living area and through the front door.

The girl looked behind her in uncertainty, “But you-”

“We’ll be fine,” the healer assured her. “Now go, child!”

The demon tried to go after her. It slammed one hand into Dalish, sending her flying, then quickly dodged a sword attack from Stiches. It clawed at Skinner who tried to flank it, and jumped out of the window, shattering the glass in the process.

“Don’t let it get away!” Stiches jumped out of the window after it.

Dalish acted fast, summoning her cold magic. The freezing ice enveloped the demon’s many legs, immobilizing it for a moment. It hissed in anger, trashing around. The apostate was momentarily distracted as she heard Krem cough and moan in pain. He looked deathly pale, even with his Tevinter-tan skin. Whatever Envy was doing in his mind, the connection needed to be broken fast.

Envy managed to shatter the ice around it, only for its way to be cut off by Grim. It clawed at him with two long arms, but the man quickly moved the broadsword in front of him to block both of them. He stepped back and swung his sword sideways, aiming to split the demon in half. It jumped in the air to avoid it, but Skinner already predicted that move and sent four daggers flying into the air. It twisted in the air to dodge them, but two hit its side and shoulder, and it growled in pain. It turned its attention to the rogue and landed right on top of her, making the elf lose her balance and fall beneath the white monster. She grit her teeth in agony as she felt Envy dig her claws into her shoulders, to hold her down. The demon opened its jaws wide, ready to sink its strangely human-looking teeth into her neck, when it suddenly stopped.

It hissed as if hurt, its thin body trembling. “No. No! How dare you! Stop resisting!” It didn’t sound like the shout was meant for her.

Skinner didn’t waste this chance. She pulled out her dual daggers and slashed at its exposed throat, making the demon gurgle and sneer, pulling back like a wounded spider.

Rocky helped her up, then threw yellow powder at the demon’s face, which burned its skin like acid. It screamed in surprise.

“I think Krem’s dealing blows to it in his mind and it’s weakening Envy,” Dalish called out as she ran outside.

The Chargers quickly surrounded the demon, not letting it escape this time.

It hissed menacingly, moving around and slashing at them like a cornered animal. Every time it would attack one mercenary, another would strike at it.

Grim used an opportunity when it tried attacking Dalish and cut one of its long legs off. It bellowed in pain and tried to jump over the circle of mercenaries, only to be stopped by Dalish as she uprooted a large boulder from the ground and sent it flying right at the demon. Stiches cut off its other leg, leaving it only with two long ones.

“This cannot be! This cannot be! Don’t you know who I am!?”

It suddenly changed appearance again, turning into a form of a badly injured Seeker Lucius. “I am Lord Seeker Lucius! How dare you attack me,” it shouted in his voice.

Skinner responded by kicking the man in the gut, hard, “Don’t fuck with us!”

Dalish clicked her tongue in annoyance, summoning fire in her hands and blasting it in waves at the fake Lord Seeker.

The man screamed, first in a human voice, but it soon turned into a monster’s howl of pain. The human morphed again, turning into Lavellan. “I am the Inquisitor! I am the Herald of Andraste!” Once again, all it got was a sword attack from Grim, cutting off another leg so it wouldn’t escape, while Stiches pierced his sword through its side. It screamed and writhed, dragging itself on the ground. Nym changed again, this time to a form of their Company’s captain. The Iron Bull’s voice resonated like thunder as he demanded, “I command you to stop! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Envy.” A familiar voice came from the entrance of the farmhouse. The Chargers looked back to see Cremisius walking over to them. His shield was still on his back, but he had his sword in hand. There was a confident smirk on his lips, even though he looked mentally exhausted.

“Krem!”

“Lieutenant!”

The Chargers exclaimed in relief, grinning from ear to ear when they saw him alive and well.

“You’re alright now?”

Krem chuckled, “Yeah. I was under some serious stress inside my mind, but the more of Envy I defeated, the weaker it became outside, right? I thought I’d be able to keep it occupied long enough to give you guys a chance. Seems I was right,” he grinned.

“That was some crazy plan…Don’t ever do that again,” Skinner glared at him.

“I owe you one, too. You guys injured it enough that it accidentally broke its hold over me.” Krem gave her a smile, but it soon faded as he walked over to Envy. It changed back to its real body again, and was twisting and trashing in pain on the ground, still screaming at them.

“Impossible! Impossible! How could I lose!? I, the Senior Enchanter! I, the Lord Seeker! I, the Magister!” It kept rambling about its past identities, completely losing all sense.

Aclassi’s sword came down in one swift move, severing Envy’s head from its body and ending its cries for good. The body kept twitching like a headless insect even after it died. He sighed, “Finally over.”

Just as he said that, angry shouts and voices traveled towards them. The Chargers gazed up to see an angry mob of villagers charging their way, armed to the teeth with knives, pitchforks and anything else they could find.

“I think you said that too soon,” Dalish winced, and Grim grunted in agreement.

“A bunch of armed, angry shems…I can tell you from experience that never ends well,” Skinner snarled.

“It’s them! The traitors! Get them!” One of the villagers shouted, but a small girl stepped in front of the angry mob.

“No, you’re wrong! They saved me from the demon! It was all the demon’s fault!” The girl desperately screamed at the top of her lungs to be heard.

The men and women of the village frowned in wonder, but luckily the irrefutable evidence was still twitching on the ground, in all its deformed glory – or at least what was left of it.

Krem pointed at Envy’s corpse and smirked, “The kid’s right.”

~…..~

The Chargers stood at the outskirts of the village, the sun rising over the horizon as the pale sky greeted a new day. Luca’s parents decided to let them stay the night in their home as a ‘thank you’ for everything the Company did for the village. They rested and got a free meal and lodging, before heading out again. It gave them time to recuperate and for Stiches to heal their wounds.

The parents nodded to their daughter and she ran over to the mercenaries to give them one final goodbye before they left the village.

“Thank you for protecting me,” Luca smiled at them from ear to ear, her freckles dancing on her cheeks as she did.

Grim, the ever-so-serious warrior, knelt down in front of her and brought a hand from behind his back. There was a single white flower in his hand, and he handed it to the girl with a nod. His expression stayed humorless even then. The girl smiled at him, her face beaming brightly. It was a face cute enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. He patted her head as she took the flower in her small hands.

“I’ll miss all of you,” Luca said with a sad smile.

“You’ll be ok, lass. Just stay tough like you were against that demon, huh?” Rocky winked at her.

“And no more making friends with strangers, alright!? You’re making your parents worry,” Skinner warned with a stern expression.

The girl nodded firmly. “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

Dalish smiled, “There’s definitely an adventurer in you, da’len.”

The Chargers said their goodbyes to her before turning back to face the road ahead.

“Where will you go now?” Luca asked.

The Chargers exchanged glances, knowing smiles lingering on their lips. “It seems there’s one more asshole whose ass needs kicking, so we better get to it. I bet the Chief is all worried by now, too.” Krem smirked, his eyes gleaming.

As they hit the dirt road, they could see Luca waving for a long time before she and her parents became nothing but dots in the distance. Soon, even the village was barely in sight – only a smudge on the horizon behind them.

That’s when Rocky spoke up, “You know where we could stop by before we reach the main camp?”

The Chargers were silent for a while before one of them responded, “Tavern?”

“Tavern!” The dwarf exclaimed and his friends laughed in unison.

#dragon age inquisition #bull's chargers #the iron bull #iron bull #cremisius krem aclassi #Rocky #Stiches #Grim #Skinner #Krem #lavellan #inquisitor #original characters #Dalish #fanfiction #took from cannon what I could from the reports #HCIMF