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goth-surana · 3 years

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The People Will Talk

Title: The People Will Talk

Pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main Tags: Secret relationship, banter

Summary: All of the main companions react to Hawke's new relationship, some before Hawke has even announced it. By the way, why hasn't he?

I participated in the 2021 Handers Gift Exchange run by @handers-time, here is my gift for @samsnak who wanted the companions commenting on Anders and Hawke’s relationship. I hope you enjoy!

Read on Ao3 or read under the cut

---- Part 1----

Merrill was more observant than people gave her credit for. Sure, she missed a lot of innuendos but that was just because they were different from the Dalish! She could tell a dirty Dalish joke with the best of them, but none of the others would get it.

Anyway, that was beside the point. The point was that Merrill seemed to be the only one of their companions who noticed that Hawke and Anders were a couple now. A very cute couple too, if you asked Merrill.

Anders was so much happier now, he looked less like a man holding up the weight of the world. He smiled more often, and his jokes didn’t have the same undercurrent of sadness.

Hawke was a tactile person, but he just could not keep his hands off of Anders. Not in a dirty way! Or, well, probably some times in a dirty way…

He took every opportunity to brush up against Anders, to put a hand on his shoulder, to give him a friendly hug. It was a wonder Hawke was fooling people at all with how obvious he was being.

That brought Merrill to the confusing part - they were keeping it a secret. Why? Why keep something so joyous a secret?

The group was off to Sundermount for some mercenary job Hawke took. Even with his mansion he still needed to pay for things, and he also couldn’t help but say yes whenever Kirkwall inevitably needed his aid.

Right now the group was clearing out a cave of spiders. Hawke had brought Anders, Merrill, and Fenris. A bit of a contentious group, but they were making it work. Hawke’s witty remarks had a way of defusing most situations.

“Even the spider guts on my clothes are covered in spider guts,” Hawke complained. “This cave had better have something of value in it…”

Soon enough they did find some locked chests, which Hawke went right to attempting to open. He fiddled with the lock a bit, but it wasn’t working.

“You know,” Anders offered, “I could just set fire to the thing and burn some of the wood away. Valuable treasure usually won’t burn.”

“Could be useful documents,” Hawke replied, his lock picking tools moving quickly.

“From what, a hundred years ago?” Anders asked. Hawke didn’t reply. He kept trying to open the chest and kept failing.

“One tiny tiny fire spell…” Anders reminded him, leaning against the cave wall and grinning. Even as Hawke grunted in frustration Anders looked at him fondly. Hawke wasn’t the only one who was obvious.

“Okay,” Hawke announced, “trying a new strategy.”

“Secret rogue technique?” Fenris asked him, a little sarcastically.

“Of course,” replied Hawke. Then, he picked up the chest and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed, not a dent on the thing.

Anders burst out laughing, which is something he never would have done before. Hawke looked over at him, and all frustration melted away. He wore a small satisfied grin, watching Anders laugh with open fascination. Oh creators, they were cute.

Eventually the group agreed to take the chest back to Varric and Isabela and see if either of them had better luck. The group decided to camp out that night in the cave since the sun was setting, and Merrill noticed how close to Anders Hawke put his bedroll. They could just be sleeping together if they weren’t trying to hide. It was quite silly, watching Anders look with open longing at the space between them.

At some point Hawke went out of the cave to gather some elfroot, and Merrill decided now was a good time to ask him why on earth he was hiding his relationship.

“Hawke…” Merrill said, walking beside him.

Hawke jumped, clearly not noticing her presence until just then.

“Maker!” He exclaimed. “You should wear shoes… why are you out here?”

Merrill grinned. “I just wanted to congratulate you! You and Anders,” she whispered.

Hawke was completely caught off guard, raising his eyebrows. “Me-me and Anders? What about us?”

“You’re together now!” Merrill continued. “Come on Hawke, don’t lie!”

Hawke let out a sigh, but then smiled. “Alright, alright. Yeah, we’re together now.”

Merrill let out a small squeal, clapping her hands. “Why ever are you keeping it a secret though?”

Hawke’s smile slipped from his face. “Anders. He’s nervous… about him getting me in trouble somehow. Lots of eyes on me, being the new blood in Hightown. I also don’t…. oh, never mind.”

It wasn’t like Hawke to sound that uncertain about something. Hawke always knew what he was doing, or at least looked and acted like it.

Right now he looked like he was holding onto something and desperately wished to unload that burden.

“Hawke,” Merrill chided gently, “you can tell me, whatever it is.”

Hawke considered her offer for a moment, an uncharacteristic look of vulnerability in his eyes that so often sparkled with mischief.

“I don’t know if he even knows how to be in a proper relationship,” Hawke said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Relationships are discouraged in the Circle,” Hawke explained. “So everyone had to be secret, and no couple were really an item exactly. It was all fleeting. This isn’t fleeting, but I don’t know how to tell Anders that.”

Well, the answer seemed obvious to Merrill. “Tell him just like you told me! You just said it.”

Hawke chuckled, slightly subdued. “I know, I know. Look, I may have a particular talent for running my mouth but I’d rather not be that careless with Anders. He deserves security.”

Merrill smiled. That was sweet, she thought. How ridiculous that Hawke was worried about this when he was clearly everything Anders needed.

“Well,” Merrill told Hawke, “however you have been handling Anders so far is-“

Hawke let out a snort of laughter.

“Stop it!” Grinned Merrill, realizing what she had said. “I’m trying to tell you something. I’m saying no matter what you’re afraid of, you’re good to him. I can see it, he’s so much happier now!”

Hawke’s expression was open, hopeful. “You think so?”

“I do think so, very much.”

—— Part 2 ——

Fenris and Hawke were drinking together at Fenris’s dilapidated mansion, trying to unwind from a stressful battle. Hawke had wanted company and a stiff drink but not the noise of the Hanged Man, so Fenris had offered his mansion as a suggestion.

Hawke was able to unwind quickly, going right back to his boisterous self. The man was somewhat infuriating and overly-witty, but he was Fenris’s friend. One of his closest friends.

It was getting late, and Fenris was just about to suggest they turn in for the night when Hawke says something that nearly makes him spit out his drink.

“I should really get going, don’t want to keep Anders up waiting.”

Hawke realized a second after he spoke what he had said, and just looked at Fenris for a moment. Fenris looked back.

“Fucking finally!” Fenris exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “Fasta vass, you two were insufferable.”

Hawke just blinked at him a few times. “Insufferable? Really, I know you don’t like Anders but-“

“Both of you,” Fenris clarified. “You, Hawke, were insufferable around the man.”

Fenris did not like the mage, he was not happy for the mage per se, but… he could be happy for his friend. And happy he could finally tell his friend what a lovesick fool he always looked.

“You two make doe eyes at each other from across the room, find any and all excuses to make physical contact, you stare at him when he’s not looking and he stares at you when you’re not looking - it was madness!”

Hawke still looked somewhat stunned, but seemed to be taking Fenris’s comments in stride. Maybe a little embarrassed. “I didn’t look that often,” he said.

Fenris actually laughed. “Oh please, you are the worse of the two!”

“Am not,” Hawke responded a bit drunkenly. He was slightly flushed, either from the alcohol or from embarrassment.

“What I am confused about is why,” Fenris continued, the wine making him bolder than usual, “are you not flaunting your sickening love to the whole of Thedas?”

“I don’t know!” Hawke said a little too loudly, waving a hand. “It’s...Andersdoesntwanna…”

“What?” Fenris asked. It was unlike Hawke to mumble. He said what he thought and made damn sure everybody heard.

“Anders wants to keep us a secret,” Hawke said, slumping his shoulders. He looked like a disappointed Mabari. How very Fereldan of him.

“And,” Fenris said, not quite believing he was actually trying to help Hawke figure out his relationship problems with the abomination, “you do not want to be secret?”

“Yeah,” Hawke frowned, leaning his chin on one hand. “Fenris, I wanna treat him right,” Hawke whined. “I wanna take him places and buy him flowers and-“

Fenris tuned Hawke out after that, waiting for him to finish his list of things.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic.” Truly, this was a side of Hawke he had not seen yet. Hawke was irreverent, not one for traditions like flowers.

“Well,” said Hawke, “mages don’t get to be romantic in the Circle. So I want to give him that. And I don’t know, I just… he deserves romantic gestures and all that.”

That was disgustingly sweet.

“But I can’t do any of that if we have to sneak around,” Hawke continued to complain. “And I don’t know why he’s so intent on keeping us a secret! It’s not the Circle anymore, no one will punish us for loving each other.”

“”Love” is it?” Fenris asked with an amused smirk. Hawke really did open up when he was drunk.

Hawke looked slightly mortified, but tried to collect himself. “So?” He asked defensively, “people fall in love quickly all the time. And it’s not like I just met him-“

“Certainly not, I have been there throughout the literal years of pining.”

Fenris thought he might have some idea of what the mage’s motivations were, but it was a little too close to empathizing with him… oh, fuck it he was trying to help his friend. He could imagine himself in the mage’s shoes for once.

“Hawke,” Fenris said gently, “have you considered…” ah, how to phrase this? Even going down this line of thought was a little too close to home for Fenris. He didn’t want to think of the past, did not want to admit to Hawke how it still clung to him.

“Have you considered that in some ways the man has not left the Circle?”

“Whadaya mean?” Hawke asked, squinting. Hawke had better not be too drunk to remember Fenris pouring his heart out to him.

“I… in Tevinter… at Danarius’s estate… the slaves were not permitted to form romantic attachments. Those who were found were punished or sold.”

Fuck, it felt like there was a rock in his throat. The damn things he did for Hawke… Hawke had better be grateful that Fenris was such a good fucking friend.

“I, even now…” okay, just breath. Just breath. “Find it frightening that I even have friends.”

There, he said it. Bandage ripped off, wound disinfected. It hurt, but it was over.

Except that Hawke still looked confused. Fucker.

“Just because the mage is out of the Circle does not mean his mind will operate so. Habits are hard to break. You said yourself that he has never known stability. He will resist it.”

Hawke frowned sadly. “That’s… wow. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He suddenly looked much more sober.

“Thank you, Fenris. And I’m sorry that you still struggle.”

Now the conversation was turned back on Fenris, and Fenris did not like that one bit.

Fenris took another drink.

—— Part 3 ——

Isabela gleefully stabbed her attacker in the throat, spinning around and slashing at another. There were a lot of Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast, after the same bounty as them. Isabela tried to have fun during fights, it was better than fear.

Unfortunately her strategy began to fail as the battle went on. They were outnumbered, and even with magic aiding them it was a struggle. Finally, Isabela killed what she thought was the last enemy. She almost sank to her knees in relief, but that relief was short lived and cut off abruptly as she heard Anders scream out for Hawke.

Isabela whipped around to see Hawke on the ground with blood spilling from his chest. Anders was kneeling over him, putting pressure on the wound and casting. Fenris stood to the side, having just killed the man who injured Hawke.

Even though Isabela wasn’t a mage, she could tell something was wrong. The spell came in fits and bursts, unstable. Anders was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his brow. His mana must be running out.

Isabela wished they had been fighting someone who might carry a lyrium potion, because Anders was clearly out.

Isabela watched on helplessly as Anders’ mana made one final surge before the man collapsed across Hawke’s chest. Isabela ran to them, pulling Anders up and looking Hawke over.

The wound was closed. He was still covered in scrapes and bleeding from a few smaller cuts, but the main danger was over. Hawke opened his eyes, blinked up at the sky.

“Anders?” He asked, seeing the man leaning on Isabela’s shoulder.

Anders shot up at his name, and then something unexpected happened. Or rather, very expected but startling nonetheless.

Anders grabbed Hawke by the lapels, pulled him up and kissed him hard.

Isabela just stared for a moment, but then began to clap. That was certainly a good ending to a fight. It was just like them to need a life or death situation to finally - wait.

Wait. Hawke didn’t look surprised, just stared up at Anders lovingly. Wait a minute.

“How bloody long have you two been together and I didn’t know it?” Isabela asked in exasperation and amusement.

Both men turned to her. Anders averted his eyes, Hawke just laughed.

“About a month,” Hawke said, still sounding somewhat out of it. He still managed to sound casual though.

Anders covered his face with one hand and groaned.

“Now everyone will find out,” he sighed. “You certainly won’t keep your mouth shut…”

“I can keep a secret,” Isabela replied haughtily. She was still grinning, caught up in the rush of a finished battle and the relief her friend was okay.

“I already knew,” Fenris shrugged. Now Isabela wanted to know how that happened.

“Fenris knew before me?” Isabela protested at the same time as Anders turned to Hawke and asked “Really? You told Fenris?”

“Didn’t mean to…” Hawke said sheepishly as he slowly sat up. “I was a little drunk.”

Anders was still grimacing, avoiding the eyes of his companions. For someone so unapologetic, he was adorably shy about this. Isabela simply had to tease him.

On the way back Fenris had to carry Hawke on his back, as Hawke was still quite injured. Anders had offered to carry him, saying he was stronger than he looked as a Grey Warden, but Hawke insisted that he had overworked himself healing. Anders relented, walking silently beside the group.

“So,” Isabela asked, “which one of you asked the other out?”

“Oh Maker,” Anders muttered, “here we go…”

“I bet it was Hawke,” Isabela continued, “you’re too mopey and sad to say something first. Although lately you’ve been better, which I’m guessing has something to do with Hawke.”

“Yes,” Anders replied, blushing and still frowning,, “Hawke makes me happy.”

“Awww,” Hawke said, grinning.

“It’s also about time you got laid,” Isabela continued with a wicked grin.

“You have no boundaries whatsoever,” Anders complained. “None at all.”

“Hawke, you’d better be good,” Isabela said. “He deserves good.”

Hawke just laughed. “I’m the best.”

“Sure, sweet thing,” replied Isabela. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t think so.”

What followed was a playful argument about Hawke’s prowess, which was only ended by Anders declaring “Alright yes he’s good! Now shut up.”

Isabela grinned. Fenris made a disgusted face.

“You must cease this conversation until you are not on my back.”

“Save it for when Anders is on his back,” Isabela agreed, nodding.

“I hate you all,” muttered Anders. “See, this is why we were secret!”

“They’ll get over it,” said Hawke, unusually giddy for a man who almost died. If Isabela had to guess he was riding the high of being public with his relationship. Hawke always had to be the center of attention.

“What are you smiling for?” Anders asked Hawke.

“What? Can’t I be glad that I can finally talk openly about my handsome, kind, talented, sexy, selfless, amazing-“

“Oh Maker please stop!” Anders pleaded, blushing hard. He was so pale he couldn’t hide it at all.

“-Striking, strong, perfect boyfriend?” Hawke finished with a pleased look.

This was great. Isabela was absolutely loving this.

“Save it for your mansion,” Fenris grumbled.

“You two finally agree on something!” Isabela smiled, nudging Anders.

“Lucky day indeed,” the man replied. Then, “Varric will be the worst.”

“Oh definitely,” Isabela nodded, “he’s going to ask all sorts of questions. Better prepare your answers.”

“What’s to prepare, we can just tell the truth,” said Hawke.

“I’m not telling him about my sex life, that’s the limit,” Anders declared.

“Then hope Hawke swears off wine,” added Fenris. “He’s chatty.”

Anders looked over at Hawke, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll not say a word,” he promised. “As long as I can keep talking about my special, sweet, beautiful-“

“Maker...,” Anders muttered again as Hawke went on another tirade of Anders’ good qualities.

Isabela spent the rest of the trip needling the pair with questions. Eventually even Anders started to smile, though he hid it well.

—— Part 4 ——

Aveline saw the absolute last person she wanted to when she responded to a claim of a bar brawl. Hawke. Of course it was Hawke.

He was slumped against the wall, face sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. The other guy didn’t look well either, leaning against one of his friends who also looked worse for wear.

“I’ll take him,” Aveline sighed to her fellow guardsmen.

Aveline led Hawke away, letting her friend put an arm around her shoulder to steady himself.

“You owe me yet another favor,” she grumbled.

“I’ll help with an investigation or something,” Hawke replied flippantly.

“Eventually you will run out of favors from me. What got into you this time?”

Hawke tensed beside her, stopped walking.

“He was a Templar, talking some shit about the mages under his “care””, Hawke sneered the last part. “Thought of them like animals, wasn’t afraid to let the whole bar know it. Bastard needed a good punch in the face.”

Aveline sighed. Hawke didn’t used to be like this.

“Hawke, that sounds like none of your business,” Aveline reminded him. “He wasn’t attacking you, you’re not even a mage.”

Hawke pulled away from her, stumbling slightly. “Bethany is, Anders is!”

“Bethany would not want you fighting Templars, she is perfectly at home in the Circle. Do not make this about Bethany, I know full well who is causing you to act like this.”

“Like what?” Hawke argued, “like someone willing to stand up for what’s right?”

“Like a troublemaker,” Aveline answered.

“Sometimes trouble needs to be made, it’s better than staying silent.”

Aveline rolled her eyes. Hawke was a ruffian at the best of times, and his new relationship was making him even worse.

“That sounds like a line straight from his manifesto,” Aveline replied.

“And that surprises you?” Hawke asked, raising his voice. “It surprises you that I support the man I love?”

“I had hoped,” Aveline told him, “that perhaps you would be a good influence on him. It appears he has influenced you.”

“You just want him silent, compliant, like all the rest!” Hawke snarled. This was worse than Aveline first thought.

“I do not hate mages,” said Aveline. “You know that.”

“But you don’t support them,” said Hawke as he leaned on a brick wall to take pressure off of his injured leg.

“I don’t support madness, needless violence.”

“You’re fine with me,” said Hawke. “Am I so different? I may live in Hightown now but I’m still a mercenary.”

Aveline contemplated this. It was true that her friendship with Hawke was somewhat...strained, but they had been through a lot together.

“You’re like family to me, Hawke,” Aveline decided on saying.

“Well Anders is my family now,” said Hawke. “And I won’t sit by while some asshole talks shit about my family. He needed a reminder to keep his shitty opinions to himself.”

“Hawke,” Aveline sighed. “Let’s just get you home. You’re still hurt.”

Aveline didn’t want to fight about this, they would never see eye to eye. This new development did worry her though. At first Hawke’s biggest flaw was that he cared too little, he breezed through life on nothing but witty one-liners. Now it seemed he took things too seriously, or at least believed that needless violence was the answer.

But as Aveline had said before, Hawke was her family. Hawke may flaunt his disregard for law and order constantly, may live by his own bizarre moral code…. but he was family. Aveline looked out for her family.

Hawke begrudgingly threw an arm around her shoulder, knowing he needed the support. The walk back to Hightown was awkward, neither of them speaking.

Aveline knocked on the mansion door, and a startled Bodahn answered. They were quickly ushered into the living room where Hawke collapsed ungracefully to the couch.

“Hawke?” Came the voice of Anders. “It’s about time you got home, I was getting w-“

Anders, looking a little sleepy and wearing Hawke’s house robe (which was enormous on him), rounded the corner.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke! What happened?” Anders rushed to Hawke’s side and sat next to him on the sofa.

“He fought a Templar,” said Aveline.

“Two Templars,” Hawke clarified. Anders looked mildly horrified.

“And why did you think that was a good idea?” He asked, placing a hand delicately on Hawke’s cheek as he began to heal the bruises on his face.

Hawke rattled off the same story he told Aveline, all the while Anders fretting over him and admonishing him for putting himself in danger. Unstable as he was, at least Anders knew how stupid what Hawke did was.

“This isn’t your fight, love,” Anders told him sadly. “When-“ he glanced over at Aveline, considering, but then continued talking to Hawke anyway.

“When we became involved I never wanted this for you! I want you to be safe, and my life isn’t safe!”

“It is too my fight,” Hawke replied. “It should have been my fight a long time ago, but it is now. I’m the son of a mage, brother to a mage, and now the lover of a mage.”

Anders bit his lip nervously, still looking upset.

“So what if I get into a few scrapes,” Hawke continued, trying for levity. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. And now I have a handsome healer to patch me up.”

Aveline pulled a face. “You can flirt when I’m gone.”

Aveline made for the door, but before she left she looked back a moment. Hawke was still trying to keep Anders from worrying, saying some nonsense or another. Anders continued to heal him, looking at Hawke with more care than anyone else did.

Maybe in a way, Anders was good for Hawke. Hawke looked after others, and until now no one was there to look after him.

Anders may be volatile, may be trouble, but… Aveline could see the devotion in his eyes. He may be dragging Hawke into trouble, but she could see he would do whatever he could to drag Hawke back out of it safe. Hawke needed someone like that.

—— Part 5 ——

Varric was waiting in Hawke’s living room, dressed far better than he ever had before. Kirkwall was throwing a party in Hawke’s honor after he was declared Champion, and Hawke had made sure all his friends got invitations. Varric had come to Hawke’s mansion to help him get ready.

“This is a bad idea,” came Anders’ voice from a room away.

“Nonsense!” Hawke replied jovially as he donned his fancy new coat. “Come on, show me how good you look!”

Anders entered the living room, wearing attire worthy of Hightown in a deep navy color. It looked striking against his pale skin and blonde hair.

Hawke whistled, and Varric could see why.

“You clean up nice, Blondie.”

“Hey, back off,” Hawke laughed.

“Told you, not into humans.”

Hawke continued to grin and Anders continued to look worried.

“I...I’m not sure I should go,” Anders said. “Everyone will be watching you, and a great many of them probably saw me use magic during the invasion.”

Hawke’s expression softened, but he still smiled. “Love, I couldn’t face those nobles without you.”

Anders didn’t look convinced. He wrung his hands nervously, not meeting Hawke’s eyes. “The Knight Commander will be there.”

“I won’t let her touch you,” Hawke said, voice suddenly hard.

Anders let out a sad laugh. “I’m not entirely sure you’re in control of that, love. But besides that you need to make a good impression on all of Kirkwall and that includes the Templars. You taking me with you as your guest is just...it’s as if you’re declaring…”

“That I love you?” Hawke asked, slightly incredulous. “I damn well hope that’s what it looks like I’m declaring, it’s what I’m trying to declare.”

Anders looked startled, his reply dying on his lips.

“You two are such a cliche,” Varric added, hoping to ease the tension but also unable to resist teasing two of his closest friends.

“If I wrote you into a story the reviews would all call it unrealistic!”

Hawke smiled, slightly abashed. Hawke was a shameless man, but when it came to Anders he was sometimes like a youth with his first love.

“Anyway,” Hawke said, his voice becoming serious once more. “I’m not hiding us. You’re part of my life, and those nobles can deal with it. I’m the fucking Champion, if that doesn’t let me dance with the man I love them what’s even the point?”

“You don’t like making things easy on yourself, do you…” Anders muttered, blushing slightly.

“I don’t care about easy, I care about you.”

Oh ancestors, they really were a cliche. It was so cute it was almost sickening.

“Writing that one down…” Varric smirked, indeed pulling out a notebook.

Anders frowned and Hawke laughed.

“I still don’t know about all this…” Anders said, voice soft and unsure.

“Anders,” said Hawke, getting to his feet and walking to him. He took the other man’s hands in his. “I want you there with me for all of Kirkwall to see. I want to be known as the lover of a mage because that’s who I am, and the world can screw itself if it doesn’t like seeing us happy. Your fight is my fight, always will be.”

Anders looked like he didn’t know how to respond for a moment. Then he spoke, only a soft “okay.”

Then promptly he decided he needed to check his hair in the mirror again and left.

“Your man’s a skittish one,” Varric told Hawke.

“Only about this,” Hawke sighed. “But one day he won’t be. I’ll make sure that one day he’s not afraid of happiness.”

“He’s probably more afraid of what could ruin that happiness,” Varric told his friend.

“If that were the only thing…” Hawke shook his head. “Well, I’ve got my work cut out for me, that’s for sure. Doesn’t matter though,” Hawke finished, smiling his usual carefree smile. “I’ll be with him ‘till the end, I’ve got time.”

Varric laughed at Hawke, fondly. “Maybe he’s just embarrassed because you say things like that. You truly have no shame.”

“The world’s got too much shame in it,” Hawke replied easily with a wave of his hand, “why add more?”

Varric decided to write that one down too.

—— Part 5 ——

“Come on Fenris,” said Isabela, leaning languidly against a pillar, her cleavage absolutely spilling out of her dress. “Admit it, they’re cute.”

She was looking out onto the dance floor where Hawke had finally coaxed Anders.

“They are repulsive,” Fenris huffed.

“They are not!” Merrill chimed in as she sipped from a champagne glass. “They’re adorable.”

Hawke’s band of misfits had somehow ended up all clumped together, enjoying the festivities but not the nobles.

“Well, I am happy for Hawke,” said Aveline. She wore her ceremonial armor, opting out of a dress.

“But I also saw the look the Knight Commander gave him. She’s not happy.”

“Lighten up,” said Isabela. “Hawke will be fine. He always is.”

“And I don’t think Hawke minds getting into more trouble,” said Merrill in a matter-of-fact tone, “certainly not if it’s for Anders. He does love showing him off.”

“Hey, it’s giving me more book material,” said Varric, “so I can’t complain.”

“I don’t know who is more shameless,” said Fenris, “you or Hawke.”

“Are you talking about my writing or Bianca?”

“Both,” Fenris said, a slight smirk on his lips.

The group watched on, somewhat captivated by how Hawke and Anders moved through the dance floor. It was a relief to all of them that the pining was now over, and they were all happy for their friends.

Anders had been right about their relationship bringing trouble, but Hawke was also right that he did not give a damn.

“Fine,” Fenris scoffed. “They are...cute.”

#handers #m!handers #anders/male hawke #anders/hawke #da fanfic

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melisusthewee · 3 years

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Fic - The Brothers Trevelyan (Dragon Age)

Summary: Templars, mages, and Chantry soldiers mingle uneasily in the Valley of Sacred Ashes. Among them is a single templar who doesn’t care about mage rebellions or broken Circles, and is content to stand guard and do as he’s told. Moments before the world turns itself upside down, Aloysius Trevelyan is just trying to be a good soldier while his brother Quinn seeks to stir up trouble. A look at two very different brothers and a tumultuous relationship in a place where only one of them gets to be the hero. Based again on a prompt from the DA Subreddit’s Weekly Writing Challenge.

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairings: none

Rating: G

Words: 1,367 words

Notes: Introducing the “Archers Do It With Flair” series - a collection of all the little one shots and drabbles written as part of the DA Subreddit Weekly Writing thread that quite frankly don’t fit into any larger or longer fics but serve to flesh out my world state and all the poor souls who inhabit it. (Or at least the Inquisitor.) Some will be long, some will be short, some will be smutty, and some will be... I don’t know. Stuff. And things. This one is more character introduction than anything else, but was the drabble which led to me developing Quinn and his relationship with his family more. And I’m kind of proud of that.

As always, click the link below to read this on AO3 or you can read the rest directly on Tumblr below the cut.

The Brothers Trevelyan on AO3

His relief was late. It had been nearly half an hour and Aloysius was beginning to grow hungry. Some of the other templars who had passed by his post had mentioned there was a bit of a commotion further down the mountain, something about the Champion of Kirkwall… or maybe it was someone else from that corner of the Marches… everyone he asked told it differently. In any event, it didn’t seem too relevant to active guard duty around the temple, and was no reason for his relief to be as late as they were.

Movement off to his right caught his attention, and Aloysius turned hoping to see an approaching soldier. Instead it was a mage, hurrying from some small side entrance of the temple. Aloysius frowned on instinct; seeing mages running about the place unchecked was not something he was used to. But they’d been told to stand down and not bother anyone unless something seemed suspect. And very little about the woman looked suspicious, especially when a second mage appeared shortly after her, his cheeks flushed and his robes still slightly askew.

Aloysius sighed inwardly. He was fairly certain that romantic entanglements on sacred ground was cause for discipline, but as his stomach growled he realized he had far more pressing concerns than a couple of mages sniffing around beneath each others robes.

He turned back to his diligent watch up the mountain path, hoping for any sign of an approaching figure. But once again his concentration was interrupted by the sound of a door being swiftly shut and Aloysius turned to see a familiar person appearing from where the mages had come from. He made a sound of disgust, loud enough for the person to hear. The man looked up from where he was pre-occupied buttoning up his coat and adjusting his trousers, and flashed Aloysius an arrogant grin.

“Is nothing safe from your debauchery?” he said, frowning in disapproval.

The grin wavered only for a moment as the man ran his fingers through his hair and sidled up next to Aloysius. “The Maker loves all his children, dear brother.”

Aloysius looked his younger brother up and down carefully. His cheeks were flushed and he wasn’t quite quick enough to wrap his scarf around his neck in order to hide the several telltale marks that made it very clear exactly the sort of thing he’d been up to with the mages. “I doubt the Maker gets involved in any of your business, Quinn.”

His brother looked entirely unapologetic. “How are we to know? He never speaks, no matter how loudly one calls out His name.”

Aloysius thought he was going to be sick and made a very distinct sound at the back of his throat. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Eventually,” Quinn replied, reaching into his coat and taking out a well-worn pipe. It wasn’t long before the pungent smell of smoke filled the air. Aloysius hated the smell, and his brother knew it. His brother also had likely figured out that Aloysius was on duty and therefore unable to leave despite how much both men preferred to avoid each other’s company. “Sadly, they don’t give me the exciting jobs like standing vigil on a mountain far removed from anyone of any importance.”

“Being assigned to the temple is an honour,” Aloysius said stiffly.

Quinn laughed, although Aloysius thought it sounded more like a snort. “So you’ve seen the Divine then? She’s come round to bring the blessings of Our Lady upon you? The Lord Seeker requested that Ser Trevelyan specifically guard this out of the way corner of the temple?”

“Shut up.”

Quinn looked surprised at the outburst. Yes, Aloysius was usually patient with his brother and not only because his patience often frustrated Quinn to no end, but his belly was empty and his temper short - especially in his present company. Aloysius watched as Quinn took a step back, seeming to consider him carefully in a manner that looked like there was far too much going on inside that silly blond head to be good for anyone.

“You haven’t seen the Lord Seeker, have you?” That insufferably sly smile was back on Quinn’s face.

“I’ve spoken with a Seeker,” Aloysius said, choosing his words carefully.

“But not the Lord Seeker? The one who’s supposed to be leading your side in the talks?” Aloysius began to tell Quinn how the templars were not his side and that he wasn’t invested in the ongoing war beyond whatever orders or duties his commanding officer gave him these days, but his brother wasn’t listening. “The mages hadn’t seen the Grand Enchanter either. They’d been told she was supposed to be arriving from Redcliffe, but everyone of importance is just… around… somewhere.”

“You managed to get all of that out of a couple of mages?” said Aloysius, his voice dripping with skepticism. For the first time, Quinn appeared to look genuinely offended, gesturing to himself as if the answer should have been obvious. Aloysius rolled his eyes, and went back to staring up the mountain road, praying his relief would come and give him an excuse to leave.

He heard his brother grumble something to himself, and smiled knowing that his reaction had not been the one Quinn was hoping for. For a moment, he thought that perhaps the man would leave to find some sort of entertainment elsewhere, but no such luck. Instead Quinn kicked absently at the snow with his boot, pouting like a spurned child.

“You’re grumpier than usual.”

“My relief is late,” Aloysius replied stiffly.

Quinn scratched his head, looking genuinely confused as he cast about the area, taking note of how empty their surroundings were. “You could just leave. I don’t think the Conclave is going to fall apart just because a single templar went for lunch.”

“I take my duty seriously.”

The younger man sighed dramatically. “Yes, yes, we know… darling Aloysius, pious as a saint. It wouldn’t kill you to break the rules once in a while. You might even find you enjoy it.”

“We all have our parts to play. You might consider yours sometime.”

The frown that fell upon Quinn’s face made him look an awful lot like their father. Aloysius considered that was something better kept to himself, however. It was clear that his words had touched a nerve, regardless of whether he’d intended to insult his brother or not. In retrospect, he probably should have known better. It was common knowledge among their siblings that despite their best intentions in trying to bring the youngest of them around to a respectable path, any time one of them said a word, Quinn doubled down on his embarrassing habits at the best of times, and tended to cause a scene at his worst. Aloysius wasn’t sure which one he was about to be witness to.

“Oh, believe me, I’ve considered it at great length,” Quinn said coldly, tapping the bowl of his pipe and scattering the ashes across the snow. He took a moment to stamp on them for good measure - a bit aggressively, Aloysius thought - before returning his things to his coat pocket and turning to leave. “I hope your relief arrives soon. Mother and Father would be terribly upset if they lost one of their good sons because he starved to death in the line of duty.”

He knew he should let him go. Quinn was not a child and should not be treated as such. But he was still his brother, and a Trevelyan, and ever since he’d turned up among the Chantry brothers, Aloysius knew that he was expected to try and keep him level headed and out of trouble if not for the family’s sake but for Quinn’s. But as he called after him to stop, Quinn only replied with a rude gesture and kept walking.

Well, if that’s how he wanted it then fine with him. Aloysius straightened his shoulders and settled back into his post, watching the top of the path that led back to Haven. Still no sign of his relief. And try as he might to ignore his stomach, he was becoming awfully hungry…

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

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onbanksofadragonriver · 3 years

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Varric x Merrill thoughts

This is a rarepair ship I’ve believed in ever since I saw this fabulous art a few years ago, and the fic “Perfume Shop” (in Russian) has been a major inspiration too. And then recently, @hollyand-writes got me to air my headcanons and to actually get down to writing for this ship, so here we are.

I’ll go by points, but it’s not my goal to somehow attempt to prove that this ship is or should be canon. They’re my headcanons: Don’t like, don’t ship. Also, I haven’t played DA2 in a few years, and have never played any of the DLCs, so feel free to take this with a grain of salt. All dialogue with no specifically indicated source is from the wiki.

Buckle in, this is long!

@geekalogian, @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold ♥

>> Amazing banter

All the companions get frustrated by Merrill’s silly questions, though I believe half of them are actually only asked as a joke. They try to explain it or avoid the question, or sigh about Merrill’s naivete. Fenris is downright hostile to her, and Anders tends to get preachy. Aveline treats her like a child sometimes. Isabela is protective and friendly, but sometimes she sounds a bit condescending and impatient with Merrill’s innocence.

But Varric, he gets her. He gets her silly jokes and just rolls with it, and their dialogues are a pleasure to listen to. It’s with Varric that her somewhat straight-faced, silly humour really shines, because he’s the only one to play along: about frolicking in the woods, and his resemblance to Hahren Paivel, and Bianca having a pretty name, or how his family is like fleas, or Darktown rats following the mage/templar mess, etc. He never brings up her naivete or makes her feel inadequate or as if she’s missed some context. And they’re both so relaxed around each other it’s like Varric has unlocked a whole new dimension to Merrill.

>> Protecting her freedom. The ball of twine and taking care of the gangs.

I’ve seen meta on how Varric paying off the thugs is him infantilizing Merrill, but he does this for Anders too. It’s his way of caring about people. And also, if you see Merrill’s reaction in case Hawke doesn’t let her have the arulin’holm, you’ll see that she’s perfectly capable of realising when people are coddling her, and letting them know — in no uncertain terms — when that kind of meddling is unwelcome. (see also: Varric and his product deliveries below)

I also like to think that half of the reason “nothing ever happens” when she wanders around at night is because Merrill is a badass mage perfectly capable of taking care of herself. One of her default starting spells is rock armour, and when Hawke meets her, she admits to having fought before, and having done so alone. She’s certainly capable or recognising the stupidity and danger Sister Petrice is walking in as she wanders around Lowtown, and that’s in broad daylight.

Also, I’m thinking Varric must have put that protection in place after news of some incidents reached his ears, because it’s not something he does by default to other party members who’re new to Kirkwall. So perhaps it is, or was necessary at some point. On the other hand, perhaps Merrill is totally taking care of herself, and the thugs are not even trying to attack her, they’re just enjoying ripping off Varric :P

I like to think that the Viscount’s gardens were an honest mistake and Merrill did cut down on wandering there after Varric’s comment.

The ball of twine is interesting. Her closest friends in the gang seem to be Hawke, Isabela and Varric, but only Varric actually gives her a tool enabling her to find her way around the confusing human city. I don’t know what others did. Did they expect Merrill to just stay in the Alienage if there was nobody to accompany her around the city? Or did they expect her to find her own way through trial and error? Varric gives her a weird, but apparently functional tool for navigating the city until she learns her own way.

And the common motif between ensuring safe streets, an access to gardens and the ball of twine, is how Varric is safeguarding Merrill’s freedom. She’s Dalish, used to living under open sky, travelling from place to place. She’s used to green, growing things and wandering about as she pleases. And she’s used to doing magic freely and in ways that she herself believes appropriate. Now she’s stuck in a barely hospitable alienage of a city with a strong templar and slaver presence, and Varric doesn’t have the heart to scold her and limit her freedom even more.

Considering Varric is part of the ascendant group in Merchant Guild, who believe in leaving behind Orzammar’s strict caste system and traditions and embracing surface life instead, looks like Merrill’s freedom speaks to something deep in Varric’s own beliefs and values, nonchalant as he seems.

>> Trying to take care of her. Delivering produce.

This gives me feels. First, Varric noticed that something was off. Maybe he missed her showing up at the Hanged Man, maybe he went to visit her. Either way, he noticed that she wasn’t going out, not even to the market. It’s funny to imagine Varric standing in the market scratching his head about what actually goes into food preparation, but more probably he initially just threw some money at the problem, sending someone shopping for her. And then he checked up and saw she’s still not going out. And then he tries to talk her into going for a walk, to get fresh air.

And again this is something I’ve read as coddling and infantilizing, but — when Merrill is clearly not in a mood for teasing, she rebukes him politely: “I’m not a plant, Varric.” She’s not harsh as in case with Hawke and arulin’holm. When Varric leaves, she admits: “Varric is... very sweet. Frequently infuriating and a terrible busybody, but sweet.”

Which at first read as... Merrill not reciprocating Varric’s feelings for her? But on a second thought: what if Merrill is the oblivious one? Not only to Varric’s caring but about her own feelings for him? What if she never considered Varric romantically because she always thought she’d end up with a Dalish partner, and then she becomes friends with Hawke and starts opening up to the idea that what if she takes a human lover? And falling in love with a dwarf has not even crossed her mind yet? (Look lower, queen.)

Because when Merrill cares, she helps people: waters their plants or repairs ancient artifacts. Part of her potentially falling in love with Hawke is due to how they help her, how they have her back. Varric and Merrill have the same love language. I choose to think of it as a mystery, why Merrill is not canonically head over heels for Varric. Maybe she’s so used to his confident, handsome self boasting about all the female attention he gets that she thinks she’s out of his league and has friendzoned herself :P

Additionally, I believe “sweet” and “infuriating” is something that the gang could equally attribute to Merrill herself. Pot calling kettle black? :D

>> Opinions on magic

Varric largely doesn’t have an opinion on Merrill being a mage, a blood mage, or whatever. He’s not afraid, because he has other, more pressing concerns, like Merchant’s Guild breathing down his neck and sending assassins, and when he does mention Merrill’s blood magic being “evil” it sounds like a rehearsed thing that might cause him headache due to other people getting their knickers in a twist over it.

He does acknowledge he’s distrustful of letting “dangerous people run amok” if Hawke sides with the mages in the end of DA2, but apparently he trusts Merrill enough that she knows what she’s doing and leaves it at that. He’s just sick of the whole mage/templar drama.

>> Mutual interest in what they do.

Merrill is interested in what he does for a living, while he tries to keep her out of trouble that would come from her knowing too much. And Varric is pondering why Eluvian is a mirror, and not some other piece of furniture. Not judging each other, just — curious. Showing they are in each other’s thoughts. And I won’t go into details here, because @hollyand-writes has, like, ALL the receipts where Varric thinks about Merrill in DAI, but he does — a lot :) He knows her interest in history and lore, knows that news of ancient elves keeping slaves would upset her, knows she would have liked to see the Dales. He seems to be missing her a lot...

>> Priority.

LOOK at the sequence he mentions his friends in, Merrill is No.1, while Hawke is almost an afterthought :D

Merrill: How do you do it, living in the city without picking a side? Doesn't it matter to you? Varric: Of course it does. That's why I don't take sides. Merrill: That doesn't make any sense. Varric: I've got you and Aveline, Fenris and Anders. Hawke. Isabela. I've got friends in the Circle and drinking buddies in the templars. All of them matter.

And who’s the first person that comes to Merrill’s mind when Hawke calls her pretty? Varric! :D [X]

>> Comfort in storytelling.

Yeah, Merrill says somewhere later that she wouldn’t have made a good Keeper because she’s not good with people, but she did receive all the requisite education. She studied lore and elven legends and history, as much as is left of it anyway, and I believe that storytelling, thriving on stories, is something that she and Varric both have in common.

Maybe she’s too shy to tell her own stories, but she’s definitely enjoying Varric’s and looking for consolation in his stories when things get rough.

Merrill: Varric, how does the story end? Varric: Which story, Daisy? Merrill: The big one. With us and Hawke, the mages and templars. Everything. Varric: You want to know before it happens? You're not worried about spoiling the surprise? Merrill: I might not see it end. Varric: You have to stick with us if you want to find out how it turns out, Daisy.

Merrill: Tell me a story, Varric. Varric: Right now? I don't think we have time, Daisy. Merrill: Maybe a very short story, then? Please? Varric: Fine. "When the cards turned, he lost." Merrill: Oh. Did it have to be so sad?

Merrill: (passing the Hanged Man): "Do you think there's time for Varric to tell us a story while we're here?"

Merrill: I hope we win. Varric will make it a good story, I'm sure.

>> Conclusions & Future

The thing that gets me the most is how good and kind they are to each other. It’s in their teasing, their jokes, the way Varric takes care of Merrill. I love Merrill’s confidence in Varric’s storytelling talent, and I like to think Varric finds Merrill’s confident tinkering with the mirror at least a little bit hot, even if he doesn’t understand magic (Bianca is/was a brilliant engineer, and I think Varric has a bit of a competence kink :D)

I also enjoy thinking of them both as slightly out of touch with emotions: Varric ignoring his own, and Merrill oblivious to his. I like to think of what happens when Merrill realises Varric loves her: because she’s open and honest in her affections, and it would be awesome to see Varric taken by that storm. To see him openly fall for someone so different, at a first glance, but also familiar: a knowledgeable storyteller, confident in her abilities, believing in free will and freedom.

I see them moving on together: Merrill learning to let go of the disappointment that is the unfinished eluvian, and Varric learning to let go of his lingering feelings for Bianca. Yes, the past is important for Merrill, while Varric wants to live in the moment, but the point of knowing the past, for Merrill, is to be able to move forward, and Varric certainly knows his family’s past, so I don’t see any disagreements there. If anything, Varric’s resources and connections can help Merrill get her hands on more artefacts and ancient tomes, letting her continue on her path in some other way.

It’s interesting to imagine their life together. After DAI, Varric pours his own funds into various infrastructure projects until he ends up the Viscount of Kirkwall, and Merrill is in Kirkwall too, helping the city elves. Somehow, it feels logical that at least some of those projects would be new elf housing and improvements to the alienage.

Would they get married? Probably, because I think it would be important to Merrill, and also probably because it might be a better way to protect her, a rumoured/known blood mage, from the Chantry than if she was just the Viscount’s mistress. On the other hand, knowing Varric and his cousin Elmand, and his spy network, and his tendency to successfully evade the Merchant Guild messengers [X], it’s equally possible he’d whip up a completely fake story about how his beloved Merrill is a hatter, and leave it at that. Probably he couldn’t even be found in the Keep, instead preferring to hide out in the Hanged Man or in his wife’s house in the alienage :D

Because, in the end, I think they both enjoy doing their respective Things very much, whether it’s helping elves or writing books, and they let each other do it selflessly, even if maybe it means they can’t live together. (Because can you imagine a Viscomtesse Merrill having to host a ball? Dealing with Hightown nobles? No, I don’t think Varric would ever ask such a sacrifice of her.) But they live close, and help and support each other, and, in short, I think they’d be awesome :)

#dragon age #dragon age meta #varric x merrill #merrill #varric #this is my tiny OTP #feel free to add your own headcanons #ship and let ship!

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rhube · 3 years

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20 Questions For Fanfic Writers

I got this from @fenrir-kin‘s post I saw someone reblog and they said that anyone who wants to do it should consider themselves tagged, so... same.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

23 on my main account; 32 total.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

397,777 on the main account; about 550,000 total.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Stone Fever (Anders/Fenris - Dragon Age 2)

2. The Naked Anders (Anders/Fenris - Dragon Age 2 )

3. A Gentle Touch (Anders/Fenris - Dragon Age 2 )

4. An Uncomfortable Discovery (JustFenHanders - Dragon Age 2 )

5. Self Reflected (Anders/Fenris - Dragon Age 2 )

4. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Sadly, yes. It really sucks.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, nearly every time! TBH, it mostly just seems polite - if someone takes the time to say something nice to me, I usually at least want to thank them, and if they stay a bunch of stuff there’s usually something to reply back about. It excites and delights me to have nice comments on my fic and I like to express that and let people know how happy it makes me.

I usually respond to the nasty comments, too, at least to tell them to bog off. Maybe I should just ignore them, but I’ve never been very good at that. Also sometimes they’re wrong and they need to know it.

Sometimes I get thoughtful comments pointing out something the reader thinks or is worried might be problematic. If it’s earnestly meant I try to respond in kind, even though often it’s a case of them being worried I’m not going to address something when I really wish they’d wait to see how the fic turns out before telling me my fic is problematic. But that’s the problem with an episodic format. It can hurt to get those comments too, but I try to be sensitive to the fact that the person is probably feeling anxious themselves.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Maybe Self Love? (Connor-51/Connor-52)

Although virtually all my fics are extremely angsty, they generally have happy endings too. I like my Hurt with some Comfort at the end. This fic doesn’t *really* have an angsty end, but it doesn’t end in a relatioship either.

(My original fiction is another matter. Thinking about it, a major character dies or is dead/undead in four of my published stories, but is it my fault if only the sad/dark stuff sells?)

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Hmm, tricky. I think either The Naked Anders (dark in the middle, but the characters not only fall in love, but Fenris is totally won over to Anders’ cause) or A Gentle Touch (much fluffier fic overall, happy ending, but less clear on how a HEA can happen because the wider setting of Kirkwall is cursed and it doesn’t really address how to resolve that).

8. Do you write crossovers?

As a rule, no. I rarely read them, either. HOWEVER, I dearly *wish* I could write a Lucifer/The Good Fight crossover in which Diane Lockhart has to defend Lucifer for something of which he’s complete innocent, and she takes absolutely no shit from him and basically looks askance at the entire LAPD for putting up with his shit.

It would be AMAZING, but I don’t think I know enough about the law to make it work.

9. Do you write smut?

Hahahaha - yes, quite a lot. I once saw someone rec one of my fics and they were like, ‘It’s rated teen for now, but Rhube usually writes explicit, so the rating may rise’ and I was like, yes, that is fair.

I’m 55,000 words into Forgiveness now and I keep having to take breaks to write smutty fics because I CANNOT DEAL with this slow burn nonsense omg I just want the boys to KISS (and then, you know, do the do).

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I sincerely hope not. I can’t even imagine the amount of stress I would feel.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? Or turned into podfic?

Alas, no.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I don’t think I could cope with that.

13. What’s your all-time favorite relationship (doesn’t have to be romantic)?

Anders/Fenris, if the hundreds of thousands of words I have apparently written about them is anything to go by.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I believe in my ability to finish all my fics! But if I had to pic, I must admit I have less idea overall of where Fenris by Fenris is going in the long term. Except towards Fenris/Anders/Leto sexytimes. But the more I wrote the more it was becoming an interesting angsty fic instead of a silly doubles-sex fic - which I should have expected, but I foresee troubles ahead.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. I think I’m pretty good at writing in the ways that people actually speak, and paying attention to how characters speak in canon.

And well-structured angst. Like, oh, you think you can see how this is going to a familiar angsty place, but have you considered all THESE ways the characters could get upset too? BECAUSE I HAVE - and I really need someone else to feel these feels!

It has long been my dream to create a Nugget of Purest Angst, and I feel like I’m honing my skills through fanfic.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Actions that accompany dialog. She sighed, he nodded, she raised her eyebrows, he ran his hands through his hair, they groaned, she hummed, he paused for a moment (everyone does things for a moment) etc. etc.

Why must my characters move alongside their dialog? Is it not enough that they say the wrong things to each other in ways that reveal their inner torment?

Also, I am lazy about description in fanfic. I know it. But I mostly don’t have the energy these days to slow down for description. Fic comes out however my poor fatigued brain regurgitates it and I rely too much on people knowing what places are like from canon. Sorry.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Uh, why not? I mean, I’m less likely to do it because I suck at second languages, but I don’t see any reason why a person should not. Is this a common issue for people?

18. What’s the first fandom you wrote for?

Strictly speaking? The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. In a fanzine. Proper Old Skool.

19. What are your favorite tropes/scenarios to read or write?

Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Body swaps. Doubles. Mind-control (but we’re resisting it and we’re very upset that it’s happening, but also we had some extensive discussions about consent and we had sex anyway and we liked it). Forced to Fuck/Sex Pollen/Love Potions. Heats (and Oh No! We’re trapped together! What shall we do?). Arseholes to Lovers.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Complete? Probably Stone Fever. The angst is good and somehow this pwp setting got proper feels and character development in it, as well as a lot of sex. To the extent that I’m now rewriting in an original setting and with original characters (follow @rubyjones for news on that, if I ever get well enough to finish that project).

Incomplete? Probably An Uncomfortable Discovery - the start could do with some polishing as I only expected it to be a quick and dirty short fic, but now it’s 79,000 words long and contains some of the best, most angsty stuff I’ve ever written, as well as a kickass, very angsty fight scene.

I have so many feels about that fic and I really regret that I allowed a comment to knock the wind out of my sails so it became hard to get back to it. I WILL finish it one day, though.

#ao3 #fanfic #me #rhube #dragon age 2 #dragon age

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ahrorha · 3 years

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Flame of Winter

This is the final chapter, and it feels unreal to have come so far. The story is far longer than I ever could imagine. And I want to thank everyone who joined me on this journey.

Your kind words were a joy to have received. Thank you so much for everything.

I love you guys <3

Chapter 35

Upstairs in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall, Varric sat in his armchair. His room in the most famous tavern of Kirkwall had become his second office since he became the Viscount. Here he could hide for a while from the complaining nobles and stuffy politicians he was surrounded by in Hightown. He could clear his head here and listen to the common people living in Kirkwall, who faced, in his opinion, the real problems in life. Not that he could escape his 'assistant' (pain in the but) Senechal Bran here. Bran had just delivered another stack of letters that required his 'immediate' attention. Varric sighed. He would become bald, grey and worn out like the previous Viscount if he wasn't careful.

“I see you are still insisting on staying in this lovely part of town.”

Startled, Varric looked up and saw Dorian walking into his room, looking critical at his choice of furniture.

“Sparkler! You've already arrived. Take a seat.”

“Yes. My voyage was very boring and uneventful. No burly Qunari pirates visited to make it less tedious.”

Varric stood up to send for refreshments, and soon afterwards, he took a deep drink from a mug of ale while

Dorian was sniffing his wine before taking a careful sip. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the excellent taste.

Varric laughed. “I got you something good. My knowledge of wine has improved after spending time with you and Broody.”

They both were silent for a while.

Swirling his mug of ale, Varric asked. “Have you gotten one too?”

“Yes. Though mine was a little different.” Dorian answered.

“How so? Didn't you get a letter? Mine just showed on my nightstand when I woke up.”

Dorian gave him a surprised look. “A little unnerving. Do you know who brought it?”

Varric shook his head. “No, and to be honest. After Hawke, the Inquisition and my trip through eluvian capital, there is little that still can surprise me.”

“Well, this might just do. I have talked to our little Snowflake.”

“What?!”

“I didn't get a letter. I got a sending crystal.”

“What is that?”

“A small magical marvel. It is a magical gemstone that can be used for communication. They come in pairs, and you can talk with the person that has the other one. With the crystal came a small note with a date and time.”

“She has the other one?”

“Yes, though she hasn't answered any of my calls to this date, but I talked to her just before I left Minrathous. She is doing well, though she feels guilty about how she left. We talked a long time about me and how I was after Iron Bull's betrayal. I have to confess I wasn't entirely sober after that.”

“So, it is true she is back with Chuckles?”

“Yes, they are back together, and she seems happy.”

Varric sighed. “Well, at least one good thing has come out of this mess.”

“She also told me that things are far more complicated than she ever thought, and she was unsure what the future would bring.”

“You don't say. I know a lot of people don't believe what Chuckles is claiming and are more worried about the Qunari. But after what I saw in the Crossroads and seeing so many elves disappear, I know something is going to happen.”

“True, though our dear Inquisitor hasn't told everything that happened.”

Varric looked curiously at him.

Dorian chuckled. “Do you know what the first thing she did was, when she saw Solas?”

“No.”

“She slapped him with all her might.”

Varric sputtered. “She did what?”

“I think it may be not as bad with her at his side.”

“Maybe? I got an extra note with my letter, from the Dread Wolf himself.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He confessed that he had spent the last two years looking over his shoulder, fearing for a shot from my Bianca. He also thanked me for looking out for her.”

They both huffed a laugh and nursed their drinks again.

“Do you blame her?” Varric asked.

“After everything that happened to her and with the Circle looming over her head? No. Though I fear what the future is going to bring.

“If I have learned one thing over the years is that nothing is simple.” Varric lifted his mug. “Let's drink. And I think we will come face to face with her or Solas sooner than we might expect.”

Skyhold was once again surrounded by a thick layer of snow. Cullen shivered as the cold wind tugged at his cloak. Winter had the Frostback Mountains full in its grasp. He looked up at the sky where slowly clouds were gathering. There would fall even more snow today. It would delay his departure even further back.

Feeling a little melancholy, he gazed over the walls. It had been almost eight months since the events at the Exalted Council, and soon he and the remaining troops would leave Skyhold for good. The fortress would become a mere outpost now the Inquisition had transferred into the personal honour guard of Divine Victoria.

Currently, the main body and command centre of the Inquisition was stationed in Val Royeaux. Most of the Inquisition's operations had already been transferred; what remained at Skyhold was the clean-up crew.

Cullen looked at how little was left of the once vast field of tents and huts in the valley. So much had already been deconstructed. A caravan of wagons was being loaded to bring the last of the supplies down the mountain. It was strange, they had arrived here with so little, and now they needed weeks to clear out the fortress.

It wasn't really necessary for him to be here, but it felt right to accompany the last of his men personally when they would leave. A final goodbye to another place he had called home.

Three years they had stayed at Skyhold, and somehow it felt like he hadn't achieved anything. True, many things happened here; they had defeated Corypheus and saved Thedas, but if what Ryan had told them about Solas was correct, then Corypheus had only been the beginning. He had a hard time grasping what Solas claimed to be. To

Cullen Fen'Harel was a character from elven folklore. In the past, he had never paid much attention to the Dalish tales about their gods. As an Andrastian, he had always believed that their talks about elven gods were no more than silly fairytales. Even now that he had spent time studying those stories, he wasn't any wiser as to how to prepare for an opponent that claims to have made the very Veil itself. But one thing was for sure, Solas had outsmarted them all, even Leliana.

It had been very sobering to see how many elves had disappeared after Ryan's confrontation with Solas. Over a period of weeks, servants, craftsmen, cooks and cleaners had left. They all disappeared overnight, not leaving any trace behind. And it wasn't only the Inquisition or Orlais that reported the disappearance of elves; it was the same in Fereldan, Nevarra and the Free Marches. Tevinter was keeping quiet, but they gathered enough information to know that they also struggled with people becoming missing. Whole families had left, leaving some alienages almost empty and the servant quarters abandoned. There were even reports of entire Dalish clans that hadn't been seen on their migration paths. It showed just how vastly Solas' network was and how his people had access to every organisation in Thedas.

Maybe the most dangerous thing was that no one could estimate how big Solas' forces really were. It showed just how no one took the elves seriously and how they could have operated without being noticed. Cullen had a hard time convincing others of the dangers those elves could represent. To most, the disappearance was a mere nuisance; they complained because their servants they relied on had left. And for once, they had a hard time finding a replacement.

What they didn't see was the threat those elves could represent. Cullen knew from his own experience how dangerous things could become once Solas would train these elves. The Inquisition itself had started this way; the first soldiers under his command were recruits from Haven, men and women who barely knew how to hold a sword. The same recruits turned out to be brave soldiers that won many battles and helped to defeat Corypheus.

Solas had achieved what hadn't happened in seven hundred years; he was uniting the elves of Thedas. Though Cullen couldn't guess what Solas' plan was. He had said to the Inquisitor that he would destroy the world, but Cullen doubted that Solas would destroy it in such a way that his allies wouldn't survive. But he wondered what Solas' plans meant for the humans. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be peaceful. With how things were now, no human nation would support any claim of the elves for land or power.

He shook his head. No, whatever was going to happen would end in more bloodshed.

His thoughts went to Eirlana. Was she back beside the man she loved? Or had Solas cast her aside just like after the defeat of Corypheus. He felt a pang in his heart thinking of her. He missed her more than he wanted to admit, and although she had rejected him, he hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

Cullen entered his quarters, a familiar headache pulsing in his head. Without Eirlana's healing, his headaches had returned, as well as his cravings for lyrium. He sat down at his desk, feeling drained. With a sigh, he rubbed his tired eyes, knowing there wasn't any escape from his withdrawal. But there was no time to rest; even in an almost abandoned fortress, paperwork was waiting for him. Letting out another sigh, he grabbed a report to be read when his sight fell on a small raven scroll lying in front of him. With a frown, he took it, wondering where the scout had gone to who had delivered this. A message from a raven typically meant they needed a reply immediately. With ease, he broke the seal and unrolled it. A small pressed elfroot leaf fell out of it, and Cullen's heart skipped a beat when he recognised the familiar handwriting.

____________________

Cullen

I don't know if you want to hear from me, but I have a request.

Meet me alone at the grove tonight. I will be waiting for you.

Eirlana

____________________

Cullen sat there stunned, re-reading the short message. Why would she contact him? Grabbing a drink from his secret stash, he stared out of the window, not knowing what he should do.

The eluvian sprang to life in the small elven ruin. The eluvian was half-buried in the rubble, and Himel had to bow down to step through it. Immediately he checked the surroundings. Soon he was followed by other elven soldiers that spread out and did the same. The eluvian's surface rippled again a short while later, and Solas and Eirlana stepped through it.

Himel returned to them and kneeled down. “There are no signs of any activity in the vicinity, my Lord.”

Solas fussed at the fur collar of Eirlana's cloak, pulling it tighter around her neck. “Wait here for our return.”

“Yes, my Lord.” answered Himel. “Stay safe.” He then directed his men to their stations and guard this place.

“Are you ready?” Solas asked Eirlana, stroking her cheek with his gloved thumb.

Eirlana nodded. “Just a little nervous.”

“We will be alright.” Solas stepped out of the ruins in the open and transformed himself into a huge black wolf. Crouching down, he waited until Eirlana had climbed on his back. Once she had securely grabbed his fur, he rose and took off. The sun was setting, turning the snowy peaks into orange and pink hues wherever the twilight managed to peak through the heavy snow clouds. When they arrived at the mountain ridge surrounding Skyhold, night had fallen, and Solas slowed down. Casting a spell to hide himself and Eirlana, he carefully made his way over the mountaintop and down the valley. As of yet, he couldn't find anything unusual other than that the walls had far fewer guards and that the fires in the settlement surrounding the lake had dwindled in number. Skyhold was almost abandoned. Confident that there was no trap waiting for them, he fade-stepped the last distance into the grove.

Solas waited again, listening, smelling for any sign of trouble before lowering himself so Eirlana could slip off his back. He transformed back and walked with Eirlana to the oak growing at the far end of the grove. Silently Eirlana lay a couple of white flowers on the grave of their unborn daughter. She shivered when Solas took her in his arms, it still hurt that she had lost her, but the pain didn't sting as much as it used to. She could feel how Solas also mourned the loss. It was strange to be with him here together after the years she had mourned alone. But she was grateful they finally could share their loss without the burden of their secrets between them.

She leant against Solas, and he pressed a kiss on her head. “She will always be a part of us.” he said softly. “And who knows, maybe she has decided to come back.” His hand stroked her tummy tenderly. Under his fingers, he could feel the spark of a new life. “You have given life to something precious again.”

She shivered again under his loving stare, which turned concerned immediately.

“Are you alright? Do you feel cold? Do you need something?”

Grabbing his hand, she smiled. “No, I am fine. We both are. Though it's strange to be suddenly in the snow again.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Solas' ears twitched as he heard footsteps in the distance.

“Stay back.” he whispered and turned back into a wolf. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the glow of a lamp. Silently he moved forward, curious if Cullen had heeded Eirlana's request.”

Cullen stepped into the grove alone. It had just begun to snow, and he peered through snowflakes, wondering if Eirlana would really be here or if he was about to step into a trap. Maybe Leliana was trying to test his loyalty in a twisted way. She had become highly suspicious and vigilant after what happened at the Exalted Council. Seeing no one, he walked further when suddenly a giant black wolf appeared from the dark. It was double the size of a big war-horse, and its six yellow eyes were glaring at him.

Startled, Cullen dropped the lamp and reached for his sword, cursing he hadn't brought his shield.

“Cullen?” Eirlana's voice called for him.

He hesitated to draw his weapon further when he saw her approaching from behind the wolf.

“I come as your friend. Are you alone?” she asked.

“I am alone.” he answered, not taking his eyes of the wolf. It had to be Solas, he thought. Slowly he sheeted his sword and spread his hands. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Eirlana smiled, seeing Cullen's gesture. “Solas, please.” she turned to Solas.

Solas took another deep sniff before he was satisfied that Cullen was telling the truth; with a whoosh, he turned back. He gave him another silent stare before he spoke. “You have nothing to fear from me, Commander. I am merely here to escort her.” He kissed Eirlana on her forehead before he stepped back and leaned his back against a tree, not letting his guard down.

Cullen felt a chill running through him; Solas wore a full golden and black elven armor under a black-furred coat. He looked nothing like the humble apostate Cullen knew. Though he had the same face, his body language and expression had changed dramatically. It now screamed confidence and self-esteem, and even without having consumed lyrium for years, Cullen knew he had never faced a more powerful mage.

It was a stark contrast with how Eirlana looked as she approached him. Her armor consisted of a silverite breastplate and arm guards, both of elven design and richly engraved. Under them, she wore finely tailored blue robes that were silver embroidered. Her cloak was lined with white furs. She looked radiant, like a noble elf from one of the old elven legends he recently read. Her hair had been intricately braided and decorated with a silver circlet. He also noticed silver jewellery encasing her left ear. It curled along her whole ear and had a couple of silver chains dangling down. Both jewels were adorned with small blue gems that glittered in the light of the lamp.

Cullen was stunned, not knowing if what he saw was real. Before him stood the two most wanted elves in all of Thedas. And they had just shown up, taking the risk of him betraying her request. Although now Eirlana was coming closer, he also could feel her magic radiating from her. It was stronger than ever before.

“Cullen?”

He realised he had been staring at her. “I...”

Not only Solas demeanour had changed, but she had also changed. She seemed stronger and more at ease. There was an air of self-confidence around her she usually only displayed when she worked as a healer. Her eyes had lost the sadness that he had seen in the past two years. She looked more content, happy. It gave Cullen both a feeling of relief and sadness.

“I am sorry about the way we parted ways.” Eirlana smiled at him.

Cullen looked back at Solas for a second. He was still leaning against the tree, he looked relaxed, but Cullen could tell he was listening and watching for any sign of danger.

He focussed back on her; he needed to know. “I understand, but I have to ask. Did you know about Solas?”

“Did I know he is Fen'Harel?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I knew. Did I know about his plans or his involvement against the Qunari at the Exalted Council? No. Though I always intended to leave the Inquisition and look for Solas after the Council.”

It shocked him that she knew about Solas' identity, but it wasn't surprising she had planned to leave the Inquisition. He couldn't see her go into a Circle.

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “This is more difficult than I thought. I want to tell you so much, though I find it difficult to find the right words.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, feeling awkward. This is ridiculous; they used to talk all the time. Why did he freeze now? “How... how are you?” he asked; it was the first thing that popped into his mind.

She looked at her feet, gathering her thoughts. “Good.” she looked at him. “I want to say wonderful, but it is more complicated than that. There is much I need to consider.”

He shook his head lightly and smiled. Her answer reminded him of Solas and how he used to give answers that only resulted in more questions. “I see you have spent much time with Solas.”

A beautiful smile of love and affection spread on her lips, giving Cullen a slight sting of jealousy, but he was also relieved to see her so happy.

“I did.” she answered. “Though many matters demand our attention.” She stared at the mountains in the distance. “Everything is much more complicated than I ever could imagine. Good and evil, right and wrong, they are not so easy to define anymore.” Sighing, she looked back at Cullen. “But I didn't come here to discuss such matters. I came to help you. Your symptoms must have returned for a while now.”

He nodded slowly, perplexed that she put herself in danger for him. They must be aware that both the Inquisition and the Chantry were looking for them. Not that their searches had any results, but they both had to know the danger they put themselves in by coming here. And yet, here she was, taking the risk of being captured just to help him.

“Come. Let's sit down.”

She walked towards the frozen water of the grove's spring and sat down on its stone edge. Cullen glanced at Solas, who watched them without saying a word before he followed her. She had removed her gloves and

raised her hands towards his face, activating her magic. He closed his eyes as her familiar magic engulfed him. As always, a sense of relief and peacefulness washed over him, chasing away his headache and discomforts of his lyrium withdrawal. Then something changed; he could feel her magic going deeper. The residual lyrium within him reacted immediately; he could feel it hum and answering the call of her magic. It felt both peaceful and overwhelming at the same time.

Cullen wondered, what more had she learned over these past months?

He took a sharp breath when he could feel the lyrium leave his body, burning away like small timber. It gave him chills throughout his body. He inhaled deeply when the magic finally ebbed away, and he felt cleansed and whole again. A little disorientated, he opened his eyes. Solas had moved next to them and offered his hand to help Eirlana up. He hadn't even heard him approach.

Looking at him, she smiled. “Thank you for coming and honouring our friendship. I won't ask secrecy from you. You may tell everyone what has occurred here.”

She pulled out a satchel from a small bag she carried. “Here this is for the others. It is not as effective as my abilities, but it will help them. I am sorry, but I can't risk it to meet them.”

Still, a little dazed, Cullen took it. “I will see to it that they get it.”

“ I have included the recipe to make more. Adan or any other skilled alchemist should be able to make them.”

Solas suddenly whipped his head around and stared up the walls of Skyhold. They could faintly hear some guards talking. He turned back and pulled Eirlana's hood up. “I am sorry, my love. It is time to leave.”

She nodded and gave Cullen a smile. “Farewell.”

Then she turned around and walked back to one of the bigger oak trees.

Cullen watched her before focussing again on Solas.

Solas studied him before he spoke. “I have to thank you for protecting her when I couldn't. I will never forget what you have done for her. I hope that our paths won't cross when you are operating in the name of the Chantry or the Inquisition. Live well, while time remains.”

He inclined his head and then joined Eirlana. Cullen noticed when he turned he had the same elvish ear ornament that she wore. Only his was crafted from dark metal.

Solas transformed into a giant wolf again and crouched down so Eirlana could climb on his back. Watching them, Cullen stood up and immediately could feel a difference in his body. Gone was the stiffness and the pain he was used to. He huffed, not even remembering a time when he wasn't in discomfort. His head was clear, and the constant calling for lyrium had disappeared.

“Goodbye, Cullen.” Eirlana said to him.

“Goodbye.” he answered. “Eirlana. I... please stay safe.” he then raised his voice a little. “And you! Don't you dare to leave her again, or a swear by the Maker I will...”

The wolf turned his head and closed slowly his to many eyes, as if he was acknowledging him. Eirlana smiled at Cullen and ruffled Solas fur. Cullen watched as they both turned invisible and a trail of paw-prints and disturbed snow let into the darkness. By now, it was snowing heavily, and Cullen knew that their tracks would be gone by the morning. Wondering what the future would bring, he walked back to Skyhold. At that moment, he shared Solas' sentiment and hoped he would never be forced to face Eirlana as an enemy.

Solas ran over the mountain passes. His heart tugged as he felt Eirlana's sorrow as they left Skyhold behind. He could understand her pain. She had given up so much to be at his side and would face even more heartbreaking decisions in the future. It was a fate he couldn't spare her from.

Suddenly her hand stroked the fur by his ear. Now they were truly bonded; she could feel his sorrow as he could feel hers. There was a spike of gratitude towards each other as they knew they were not alone.

Travelling through the snow, they went to face an uncertain future. But they knew one thing for sure. Being bonded, they would face it together.

This is the end so far. I can't wait for DA 4 to blow our minds again with long lost secrets and hidden lore. And our next heartbreak that will come (thnx Bioware ;p)

We already know that the next wizard in our party will have some hidden agenda. And I hope we will finally be able to romance a dwarf.

Until we meet again, for I am not finished writing fanfiction in the epic world of Dragon Age

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age solas #fanfic #Solas #solas romance #solas x oc #eirlana #flame of winter

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pikapeppa · 4 years

Text

FenHawke baby fluff: Memories At Sea

@lethendralis-paints requested some Fenris x Rynne Hawke spending time with their little man Faren, and how could I resist?? So for @dadrunkwriting Friday, here is a little Papa Fenris fluff!

This takes place in my “Fenris the Inquisitor” AU, so this is post-Trespasser, after FenHawke have settled in a cabin on the Rivaini coast. And yes, Fenris has both his arms, for Reasons™.

~2600 words. Read on AO3 here.

***********************

Hawke smiled at Fenris. “Ready?”

“I’m ready,” he said. The late afternoon sun was still high enough to be warm, but not so high as to be blinding. It was low tide, and the waves washing up along the white-sanded Rivaini shoreline were little more than gentle ebbs and flows.

“All right,” Hawke said, and she smiled at six-month-old Faren. “Here we go!” she cooed. “Are you ready to feel the sea on your feetsies?”

Faren blinked his big coppery eyes at her, and she chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She kneeled at the shoreline and settled Faren on her lap with his chubby little feet touching the sand.

She leaned in close to Faren’s ear. “Here it comes,” she murmured. “The tide’s coming in… and… oop!” She gasped playfully as a gently breaking wave lapped at Faren’s feet.

Faren’s eyes went huge, and his feet jerked. Fenris chuckled and crouched down beside them. “Shocking at first, isn’t it?” he said to his son. “You wouldn’t expect it to be so cold, given the warmth of the day.”

“The water’s not cold!” Hawke protested. “It’s practically bathwater!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Bathwater for whom? Fereldens? The Avvar, perhaps?”

She chuckled. “If Dorian was here, he’d say your Tevinter is showing. You hot-weather boys and your complaints.” She tickled Faren’s knee. “I hope you get my sturdy constitution, Faren. I don’t mind a little cold.”

“Says the woman who spent the entirety of our time in Emprise du Lion begging me to share my body heat,” Fenris said pointedly.

“Oh, I wasn’t cold then,” she said. “I was just horny.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth to hide his smile, then gave her a chiding look. “Can you refrain in front of the baby?”

“No can do, sorry,” she said cheerfully. “Let him know how much his mum is gagging for his dad. Oh, here comes another wave! And… oop!”

This time when the water touched Faren’s feet, he smiled and haphazardly waved one hand, and Fenris smiled at his raven-haired son. “It is better once you’ve had some time to get used to it,” he told Faren. “We will have you swimming in no time.”

Faren gave him a gummy smile. Another wave began crawling up the sand toward them, and this time when it touched Faren’s feet, he squealed happily and waved both his hands.

Hawke laughed — that lovely sparkling laugh that never failed to lift and ease Fenris’s heart. “Such an adventurous little turnip!” she crooned. “I think we should get you standing up now. Yes, I do.” She lifted Faren onto his feet and supported him carefully beneath his armpits as he tottered, very slowly and clumsily, on the damp shoreline.

Another wave began to climb up along the sand, and Faren bounced excitedly in Hawke’s hands as the wave approached. When the wave reached him, it washed up to his knees with a tiny splash, and Faren shrieked again.

Hawke and Fenris both laughed, and Fenris watched adoringly as Hawke chatted to Faren while supporting his chubby body. Faren was only six months old, so there was no chance that he would remember this particular moment — his first time ever touching the sea. But still, this would be the first of many such moments in the sea: the first of a string of peaceful and pleasant little moments with his parents holding his little hands and encouraging his curious nature.

Over time, these moments would build on each other like layers of lacquer growing more lustrous and brilliant with time, until one day Faren would have a concrete memory in his mind of splashing in the sea and loving it, thanks to his mother’s tender hands and her bright and brilliant laugh.

His memory of the sea will be so different than mine, Fenris thought. After all, his first memory of the sea was during his time in Minrathous under Danarius’s control.

He still remembered that first time following Danarius to the docks on one of the rare times that Danarius deigned to go somewhere so common. The Nocen Sea coastline was busy and noisy and grim, populated by magisters lording over their browbeaten slaves, and when Fenris had looked at the sea for the first time that he could remember, all he could see was a brownish-green fathomless depth that echoed the deadened emptiness in his heart.

But the Nocen Sea was only the first coastline that Fenris had seen. Years later, after he’d arrived in Kirkwall and made Hawke’s acquaintance, he saw the sea for the first time again.

A few weeks after he began travelling around with Hawke and her friends, they’d taken a trip to the Wounded Coast, and Fenris still remembered taking in that stark landscape for the first time. The sky was a surreal haze of orange and pink that reflected off of the oddly still waters of the Waking Sea, and there were stony spires of rock jutting out of the water like enormous splintered rib cages piercing into the sky.

“Well, it’s official,” he said. “I have travelled all the way from the northern coastline to the southern.”

“You know this isn’t the end of the continent, right?” Hawke said.

He gave her a chiding look. “I’m well aware, Hawke.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “For a second I thought you’d forgotten all about Ferelden.”

“I haven’t, no,” he said. “But I’ll become acquainted with one foreign land at a time.”

“Ooh, a one-country-at-a-time sort of fellow, are you?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I like that in a man.”

On her other side, Varric scoffed. “I can’t decide whether you or the Rivaini is the worse flirt.”

“Hey, that’s unfair,” Hawke complained. “I’m at a disadvantage. Isabela’s got her gorgeous rack to do half her talking for her.”

Fenris studied her surreptitiously as she bantered with Varric. Her body might not be as lushly curved as Isabela’s, but Fenris still found himself eyeing her more often than he felt strictly comfortable about, considering that he and Hawke were still practically strangers. And considering that she was a mage.

He forced his gaze back to the coastline instead. It was so calm here – so quiet. Aside from the giant spiders and bandits they’d encountered on their way here, of course. But compared to the noisy, busy, depressing docks of Minrathous, the stark and intimidating scenery of the Wounded Coast was more than welcome.

“I wonder why it’s called the Wounded Coast?” Hawke mused. “Is this near the Injured Cliffs, maybe? Or the Limping Hills?” She smirked up at Fenris. “Maybe we’re off the coast of Massive Head Trauma Bay?”

Varric snorted, and Fenris frowned slightly. “If you don’t like it here, why did you lead us here?”

Her eyes widened. “What makes you think I don’t like it here?”

“Your unflattering remarks?” he said dryly.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m just being silly. I actually think it’s pretty here.”

“You do?” He was surprised. He’d been thinking the same thing, but he was surprised that he wasn’t the only one to appreciate the rather barren landscape.

“Of course!” she said. “It’s striking, isn’t it? I mean, it’s no Orlesian cultured garden, but it’s still pretty.” She pointed to the jutting peaks of stone. “Those spiky rock things are really… I mean, all right, they’re spiky. But I love the way the water’s carved patterns into the stone.”

Fenris eyed her in silence for a moment until she looked up at him. She blinked. “What?”

“You’re quite the optimist, aren’t you?” he said.

She laughed. “You say that like an insult.”

“Not an insult,” he said. “An observation.”

“A critical observation?” she said with a mischievous smile.

“I…” He frowned, then awkwardly rubbed his hair. “My apologies. I don’t mean it to be. It’s just…”I’ve never met anyone quite like you before, he thought. Her own circumstances of being in Kirkwall were far from rosy or ideal, but one would never know it from the way she joked and flirted.

He couldn’t say any of that, though. It felt far too personal considering he hardly knew her.

She chuckled. “I’m just teasing you. Of course I’m an optimist.” She bowed dramatically to him. “Rynne Hawke, cavalier fool and optimist at your service.”

Varric tapped her arm. “Maybe we should go be cavalier and optimistic with the others. They’ve run off ahead.”

“Yes yes, of course!” Hawke chirped. “We can’t let them kill every thug on the coast without us.”

Varric smirked and walked away, and Hawke turned back to the view and scoffed. “Wounded Coast, they say? More like Picturesque Coast.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.”

“It doesn't, does it?” she said agreeably. “I’ll have Varric come up with a better name. Either way, it’s a pretty coastline.” She winked at him and wandered away.

He pursed his lips. Trust Hawke to find the beauty in something wounded.

He admired the peaks of stone rising from the water to reach toward the sky. Then he turned away from the view to follow Hawke’s carefree steps.

“Fenris? Are you coming?”

He blinked and looked up. Hawke was standing ankle-deep in the water with Faren in her arms.

He smiled and nodded, then stepped into the water to join her. Faren gurgled and reached for Fenris, and Hawke kissed his plump cheek before handing him over.

“You disappeared for a moment there,” she said to Fenris. “What were you thinking about?”

“The sea,” he said. “What it’s like to see it for the first time.” He looked away at the horizon, stretching off into the distance as far as the eye could see. “Faren won’t remember what it’s like to set his eyes on the sea for the first time,” he said softly. “It’s… strange to think he won’t remember something so momentous.” He stroked his son’s back and thought of that moment again, of seeing the Waking Sea for the first time with Hawke by his side, and how her sunny spin had elevated that moment from something mundane to something special – something that stuck in his mind even to this day, fourteen years later when he and Hawke were taking their child into the sea for the first time.

Hawke stroked his arm. “But it’s good though, right? Having him grow up somewhere with such a gorgeous view? He can wake up every day and voilà, there’s the beach just a few steps away!” She gestured grandly at the aquamarine expanse that swished and flowed around their calves.

“Of course it’s good,” Fenris said. “I don’t mean to suggest otherwise. I’m simply… awed by the contrast, I suppose.” He pressed his lips to Faren’s raven-haired head and inhaled his baby-sweet scent, then gazed at Hawke. “The only early life I can recall was written in pain and blood. I could remember clearly that I remembered nothing, and that blankness was…” He swallowed hard. “It became more painful than the marks, in time.”

“I know,” she said softly.

He smiled faintly at her, then gently patted Faren’s back. “His memories are an unwritten book. They will be seamless and whole. He won’t know why he loves the sea, but that love will be written there. A page of his story, tucked safely in his mind.”

Hawke shifted closer to him and looped her arm around his waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to regain your memories?” she asked. “Cole could help. We could try and write him a letter. Do a little Avvar ritual to get his attention from the Fade.” Her tone was playful, but her smiling amber eyes were serious.

“I do consider it sometimes, still,” Fenris admitted. Then he smiled at her. “But not today. This day is not about the past.” He bounced Faren gently in his arms. “This is a day for new memories, isn’t it, little man?”

Faren cooed and patted Fenris’s face, and Fenris chuckled. “All right. There is a wave approaching, so let’s see how you feel about this…” He crouched until the water was up to his waist.

The water was licking at Faren’s calves. Faren squealed and gripped Fenris’s ear, and Fenris smiled. “Brace yourself. Here it comes.”

The wave washed up to the middle of Faren’s back. Faren’s eyes grew impossibly wide, then his face started to scrunch.

Fenris winced in anticipation of the impending wail. “Uh-oh.”

“No no!” Hawke said quickly. She knelt in the water and tickled Faren’s neck. “Don’t you cry! The sea is wonderful, look!” She watched another incoming wave with a huge smile, and when it washed over herself and Faren and Fenris, she gasped and clapped her hands. “Yay!” she cheered. “The sea is such fun, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“Yes, it is,” Fenris said with a smile. Faren was staring wide-eyed at Hawke, and his face was no longer squinched into an almost-wail. When the next wave came, the baby smiled.

“Yes, that’s it!” Hawke said brightly. “It’s fun, you see? Look!” She took a big breath and ducked her head beneath the water, then popped back up a second later. “Ta-dah!”

Faren squealed and waved his hands. Hawke played peek-a-boo with Faren a few more times, and it wasn’t long before Faren was laughing uproariously in that pure and uncontrolled sort of way that never failed to make his parents laugh as well.

Hawke sighed happily and slicked her wet hair back from her face. “Ooh, come here, you little turnip.” She gently took Faren from Fenris’s arms, and he smiled helplessly as his wife and son laughed together.

“He sounds just like you when he laughs,” Fenris said.

She grinned at him. “He does not!”

“He does,” Fenris said. “He sounds exactly like you.”

She giggled, then tipped her chin up and batted her eyelashes. “Well, he looks just like you. The two most handsome boys I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris scoffed, then leaned in and kissed her smiling lips. A moment later, she pulled away and beamed at the baby. “How about we take another dip, hm? Yes, let’s do just that!” She waded a little further into the water, and Fenris watched them with a feeling of warmth and fullness in his chest. She was pointing to the waves and to the gulls floating lazily overhead, telling Faren how lovely and interesting everything was, and Fenris realized something sweet: as different as his and Faren’s early memories would be, there was one enormously important thing – one enormously important person – that would tie them both together.

It was Hawke. More than ten years ago, she’d spoken to Fenris of the beauty of the sea, and now she was pointing out the very same beauty to their son.

He waded toward her and slid his arms around her waist from behind, and she smiled at him and continued speaking to Faren. “... and one day, when you have better control over your own arms and legs, Auntie Isabela will teach you to dive for treasure, and you can see all the fishes and corals and crabs that live under the water! Ooh, that will be so exciting.”

Faren burbled and patted her chin, and she laughed — the same joyful burbling laugh that she’d passed on to their son. Fenris inhaled the salty sea air and held his family in his arms, and as the rolling waves tugged at his legs and washed soothingly around his waist, he cherished the making of this new memory in the sea.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes

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baejax-the-great · 4 years

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Forgiven

This is a silly FenHawke story. It is not what I consider my Hawke’s canon for getting back together with Fenris, but I’ve been having some serious writer’s block recently and am just happy to have written anything at all. (835 words)

“You forgive too easily.”

Fenris was annoyed with her, again, following her to her estate to chide her for whatever it was she had done today. She had already walked him to his mansion to drop him off for the evening, but he walked her right back home. “Forgiveness can always be rescinded,” she retorted, waving him off and weighing the pointlessness of walking him home again, “I believe in second chances. I’ve needed a few myself. Who hasn’t made a mistake or ten?”

He ignored her attempts at ending the conversation. With a sigh, Hawke resigned herself to the argument. They might as well have it out right here in her foyer. She turned to face him, arms crossed as he replied, “Or you could believe people when they tell you who they are the first time.”

“I guess I’ve never been much of a believer in anything.” A lie, and a poor one, if he thought about it. She couldn’t have that, so she quickly continued, “The first time I met you, you tricked me into helping you. And you short-changed me. Should I believe you are nothing more than a conniving liar? And,” she added, finger triumphantly in the air, “I didn’t forgive the Qunari that one time. That was memorable.”

He laughed, a joyless “Hah!” as he threw his arms up. “You would have forgiven them if they’d left Isabela and gone. Half the city on fire, and you would have let them walk out.”

“Well, four years in Kirkwall will make anyone go on a rampage. I can’t exactly judge them for that. But they had the book back and they couldn’t give up on Isabela and neither could I.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, he stomped toward her. Well, as much as anyone without shoes on could stomp. Perhaps it was more of a prowl, she reflected as he was very suddenly very close to her and accusing, “And yet you forgave Isabela on the spot for stealing the book in the first place, lying about it, and escaping.”

Hawke wasn’t exactly known for backing down, even from angry friends in her personal space. She squared her shoulders and pushed right back into his. “She came back! Rather heroically and at great risk to herself.”

He threw his head back again in false mirth. “She ran off immediately. But I suppose you’ll forgive her the moment she comes back again. If she comes back.”

Hawke bristled, drawing herself to her full height under the weight of his scowl. “And so what if I do?”

“You forgive too easily,” he repeated through a clenched jaw.

“As someone who has been on the receiving side of my forgiveness, I wouldn’t be so quick to condemn it.”

If anything, this made him more agitated, his eyes narrowing in some intense emotion Hawke couldn’t even identify. He swallowed, and her eyes followed the movement down his neck. “So you forgive me? For what I did? For leaving?”

He was so close, she could feel his breath punctuating each word on her nose. It was Hawke’s turn to fake a laugh, though it came out a little strangled. Why was her heart pounding like this? “I forgave you ages ago!”

“Vishante kaffas,” he swore, his voice deep and low, “You shouldn’t have. I was a coward who couldn’t tell you how I felt.”

“Well I did,” she hissed, “Tell me how you feel, and I’ll just do it again!”

“Yeah?” He sneered, the pull of his lips drawing her eyes.

“Yeah!”

“I love you.”

“And I forgive you for that. Wait, what?” But then he was kissing her, or maybe she was kissing him. They were kissing, was the point, his lips meeting hers with force and then yielding. And his lips were soft, and she liked them much better when they were kissing her and not arguing with her, though truth be told she liked the arguments, too, and Maker’s Breath, that was his tongue. His hands gripped her face, and she realized somewhat absently that hers were around his waist and she had no memory of them getting there.

“I love you,” he said again.

“This whole time?” she asked, still trying to wrap her head around the way she was currently wrapped around him.

He laughed, his armor pressing into the buckles crisscrossing her chest. “This whole time.”

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. Maker, how she had longed to touch him like this. “Three years you could have been kissing me. Three years…” She looked into his face, now a little concerned, the eyebrows wrinkling, lips slightly parted.

“Am I forgiven?”

Of course he was. Of course he was. But she was not letting him off the hook so easily. “Kiss me again while I think about it.”

The grin pulled at the corners of his lips, lips she had just kissed and would not stop kissing for the next three years to make up for lost time. “Gladly.”

#fenhawke #leandra hawke #my writing #look this is very stupid and I'm not a hundred percent happy with it #but it turns out I super hate writers blockk #because it's not a block on writing it's a block on my imagination #and I need my imagination #I am very sad and bored without it #so I am happy to have gotten this down even if I'm not satisfied with what it is

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5lazarus · 4 years

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Anders in Autumn Ch. 6

for @cozy-autumn-prompts Ch. 6, hot apple cider: Merrill spikes the cider at the Hanged Man. read the rest of the story on my AO3 account here

Hot air blows them back as they open the door to the Hanged Man. Fenris rolls his eyes at Anders and steps through, and they are greeted with a drunken cheer by Hawke, who stumbled on their way over. Anders’ grin is suspicious, he knows it, and Hawke stops and cocks their head, before sharing a meaningful glance with Fenris. Fenris grimaces. “I brought him, as you ordered,” Fenris says. “Can I go?” Hawke reaches for him but he flinches away. They withdraw their hand. “No, you’ve got to try this cider Merrill made.” Before he can protest, Hawke produces two tankards and shoves them into both of their hands. They spot Merrill and Isabela cornering Sebastian by the bar, sigh, and head over to supervise. Anders stares into his tankard. It is one of the nicer ones, ceramic, and warm to the touch. He inhales: cinnamon, apples, cloves and nutmeg, a hint of orange and embrium. Kirkwall autumn in a cup: it is lovely, and the embrium makes it unpredictable. He holds it out towards Fenris and says, “Cheers.” Fenris, to his pleasant surprise, clinks mugs with him and he chugs it while Fenris merely sips. “To a successful drive,” Fenris says quietly. “Victori da spolia.” Anders looks around quickly, to check for eavesdroppers. He likes the scoundrels of the Hanged Man, he is one himself, but he does not want anyone selling out his patients. For once, Darktown seems to be organizing. If the dockworkers can pull off a strike during the pre-winter unloading rush--they would grab the entire net of the city’s finances and make them pay. The cider pools through his body, leaving him feeling decidedly cozy and rosy. Merrill’s a powerful mage, and the embrium was a nice touch. He feels like he is floating. “Victori da spolia,” Anders says dreamily. The embrium is hitting him hard. The room is beginning to glow a wonderful amber, but Fenris is a distinct turquoise sea. That elf has the most wonderful eyes, he thinks. Like seaglass, as translucent as lyrium-blue. He says quite seriously, “You have glass eyes.” Fenris takes his drink from him and walks away, leaving Anders feeling slightly bereft. There wasn’t much of the sea, or glass either, in the Anderfels: just the stone houses they cleaved from the cliffside, which felt just like the tombs their ancestors built. He drifts around the Hanged Man, still careful to keep a hand over his purse, and catches snippets of conversation. Merrill is innocently asking Sebastian question after question about the Chant, while Hawke snickers in the background. Isabela is attempting to teach a very drunk Aveline how to play Wicked Grace, and Varric looks annoyed, surrounded by dwarves. Anders floats over. It takes him a second to make sure he isn’t literally floating. Merrill put far too much embrium oil in the punch. “I don’t care what it looks like,” Varric is saying. “If we don’t get those ships unloaded and sailing by Harvestmere, Orzammar’s going to be right up my ass about the next tax payment. Pay off the foreman, get in a doctor, I don’t care. Just deal with it before they go to the Thieves’ Guild. I want the Carta kept out of it.” The dwarves leave. Varric scowls and rubs his forehead wearily. “Fuck this shit,” he mutters, and then he notices Anders drifting, and totally not eavesdropping. “Hello,” he says dreamily. He has heard quite a lot of information that he will of course not use for nefarious purposes, ever. His purposes cannot be nefarious. He’s possessed by a spirit of Justice, after all, and that makes it difficult to be nefarious. Varric says, “Merrill got to the cider, didn’t she.” Anders puts two thumbs up. He tells Varric he loves him and means him no harm and wanders off to find Fenris. Fenris is with Donnic, who has been a lot more fun since he and Aveline parted ways. They’re whispering suspiciously. Anders looms before them and says, “Suspicious.” Donnic stares, but Fenris sighs. “Merrill made the cider,” he explains. Donnic says, “Ah. You alright, mate?” “I am a spirit of Justice,” Anders informs him. “And Justice shall be done.” He is feeling quite pleased with himself, and enjoying himself thoroughly. In a flash of insight he understands Merrill’s sense of humor, finally. There’s nothing quite like saying bald truths with holy simplicity. If you pull it off, no one can get mad at you when they realize you’ve obliterated them emotionally and run circles around them intellectually. Unfortunately, Anders hasn’t been cute enough to succeed since he was twelve and ran away from the Circle for the first time. It got him halfway to the Anderfels, why did he give that up? Justice says, gently: you need this break, don’t think about that right now, and pushes that thought away. “I miss having a sense of humor,” he mourns. “Okay,” Donnic says. “Should we sober you up some, or leave you to it?” He looks at Fenris. “I have to go back on duty after this, can’t take him back to Darktown.” Fenris shakes his head. “He can’t go back to the clinic. Varric’ll want to send an escort.” Donnic almost asks a question, then visibly bites it back. Anders is impressed. He’s less of a meathead than he thought, still terrible at Wicked Grace, but not that dumb. “He can sleep it off at my place.” “I have things to tell you,” Anders says. “Wonderful things. Important, not just about your eyes. But I have more to say about that too.” Donnic is laughing now, and Fenris looks bothered, a bit red-cheeked, and Anders hopes that isn’t just the rose-colored lens the embrium-spiked cider gave him. He hopes he made him blush. Donnic and Fenris bundle him out before he gets too silly, and the night is steadying without taking this glow from him quite yet. There’s been so little joy, since ever, he thinks. Since the Blight. Since the Circle. Since Father. Since I was born. He’s going to hang onto this yet. As they head up to Hightown, Anders puts his arms around both men, and Fenris doesn’t shove him away. He’s becoming easier with touch, since he killed Danarius, and less grumpy too. Something has eased in him, and it not just the drink. They stop at the top of the stairs and Anders grabs them both tightly. “Look,” he says, “look.” The moon is ripe, hanging over the city, and he can pick out his favorite constellations. He whistles up a wisp and asks it gently to show them what it sees, and it stretches before their eyes to make the constellation. It becomes Servani, the Chained Man, and then suddenly the constellation figure lifts its head and throws off its chains, facing them directly before dissipating. It’s beautiful. Anders says, “Thank you,” and the wisp fades. “Did the whole city see that,” Fenris says, voice suspiciously calm, “or did you only enchant us without our permission?” Anders freezes. He backs away from the both of them. “It--the wisp only gave that to us. It’s a blessing, I think. It was meant to be a gift.” The sense of closeness has faded so quickly he feels winded. Kirkwall’s nights have gotten cold, and Anders shivers. He knows he’s fucked up. Fenris’ eyes are looking less seaglass clear and more like flint, sharp enough to cut. Anders meets his gaze. “I’m sorry. I--it was trying to be sweet. It’s Kirkwall. The Veil’s thin here. The wisp must have seen us having a good time, wanted to wish us luck. I’m sorry.” He’s talking too much, he always does that when he’s nervous. Donnic coughs. “Right, well, that was weird,” he says amiably. “Let me drop you two off before the guard shakes you down and I have to pretend I called dibs, alright? Let’s go.”

#co-zautumn #anders in autumn #anders/fenris #fenris/anders #fenris #anders #dragon age #dragon age 2 #da2 #a special guest appearance by #donnic #5lazarus #hes5thlazarus #dragon age fanfic #fanfic

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aniaintok · 4 years

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elysethrillems replied to your post “elysethrillems replied to your post “elysethrillems replied to your...”

I kinda understand why they don't let mages multiclass in game because it'd be op and even more the favored class. But man I WISH still. It'd have to have some kind of drawback to balance it out like not being able to use magic in certain battles or something. idk. that's another topic to go off on and so I'll just dream about it working for this au

okay in hindsight it really is incredibly silly of me to not have been putting these under read mores, my bad omg

But yeah it really bases on each person's past experiences. Most of the party hasn't had a terrible history with magic and mages but they often see the mistreatment of the mages in Kirkwall. And they all mostly got to meet Obi before the magic (minus Cody&Rex since they fled Lothering w/ Obi&Jinn) and so I feel they're more like: Well, I don't want to see my friend go through that so I won't say-

--anything to the Templars. Where Anakin has so much history with the wrongdoings of magic and it just rocks his core and beliefs after knowing. Obi-Wan wasn't any of the stereotypes that he had learned. Did not hold malice in his heart so tightly and let it influence his actions for the worse. Of course this isn't going to make Ani full fledge trust ANY other mage but it might give him a pause--

--to give them a chance or a second and not assume all are blood mages and working with demons, maybe. I can see the others working together to do combos more tbh like hey Obi freeze him so I can smash him! etc etc those things and in the long run I think they might be able to battle better

I keep forgetting to mention but I've specialized Obi in Force Mage and a Spirit Healer. The Force one because well. The Force. It's fitting. But it's also extremly fun to just like yeet enemies around up,down,apart,together. Like a yoyo sometimes lmao. I def hope Obi in the story has that one. I chose the healing moreso because I dont bring Anders along a whole lot but I think Ob would kno that2.

I quite like the blooming idea of Qui-Gonn even teaching the others new fighting styles in their spare time. He's just passing on knowledge to everyone to better themselfs inside and outside of battle. Soon enough it's regular for Obi to come home and one of his friends are training with Jinn in the library. Even in Jinn's age he can school these fools at anything lmao

After seeing more of the Temple Bombing and more on Barriss I'm very excited to start thinking of her in this AU. Like it really does feels fitting for her as Anders. I like the idea of her going to Jinn to try and talk about things to ease her mind or to try and get him or anyone to help more with the mages being turned Tranquil. She puts on the facade that the talk helped her but she's probably-

--left the place feeling more upset about it all and feeling like people are unwilling to make changes unless it's drastic. Which continues snowballing into act 3 and the explosion. Damn, bonus points somehow if she manages to point it at Ashoka like in the show omg

Ykno I played the game again today the terror of being a mage in Kirkwall with the Templar’s abusing their powers like really set in for me today? And I thought about Obi admitting his fear. To Quinlan and/or to Anakin. I thought about one of the nights Quin&Obi are drinking, and Obi just admits it. It’s scary hiding in this city and he misses simple Lothering before the Blight hit. The thought of people busting in through the door and seizing him and possibly Jinn too

And then to Anakin it might be after they’ve reconciled things. I imagined Anakin talking about wanting to fight all the slavers and all those Danarius sends after him, he’s wondering why Obi doesn’t have that attitude towards the Templars. But Obi explains that theres no way to fight off the whole institution, especially with them being trained to nullify any magics and if he were alone it would be game over almost instantly and Obi would be made Tranquil and all his personality and witt r gone

ANOTHER can of worms (sorry) I just did the romance scene in act 3 with Fenris and he had, for a moment, remembered things before the ritual with the lyrium but then suddenly lost them all again. And oof dude the SAD that comes with the dialogue how overcome with emotion Fenris is and it all sounds like vague rejection but I know it’s not. Also seeing the red fabric tied around his wrist got me going heart emojis tho I’m thinking abt Anakin wearing that when they’re more established together too

yea as much as i’m disappointed bc multi-class mage would be DOPE gameplay, it would definitely be way too op for a class. but in true fanfiction rules, that means it’s on the table to be written in!! (altho you could have a cool mechanic where it’s battle locked, or stamina locked somehow?? or requiring skill points maybe?)

it’s definitely different situations for all the companions, but yea without a doubt anakin’s situation is the most unique/drastic?? (not the right words but they work) like you said, he’s not going to immediately do a 180 on how he views every mage, but learning about obi-wan does force him to pause and reconsider things, and it makes him more hesitant about passing judgement. i think, in canon w/ fenris too, they recognize the injustice that is the gallows, and they know that the templars are being cruel to mages there, but if they truly believe mages are all corrupt, evil, and self-serving, then fenris/anakin doesn’t feel the urge to go out of his way to help them. maybe not actively hunting down and turning in mages, but he’s certainly not going out of his way to hide & harbor mages, either. (but for obi-wan? after he learns everything? that might change)

i love the idea of combo moves, omg. i feel like ahsoka would be the most enthusiastic, just because it always looks fucking cool. her and obi-wan are just messing around and they realize he can push her around with magic, and then they’re practicing moves, obi-wan using a force push to launch ahsoka into more brute force slams that she can do with her daggers. ahsoka is cackling gleefully the whole time, while obi-wan frets at first but he gets excited, too, because it really is super cool

with that said, i think force mage specialization is absolutely perfect. not only because the force, duh but also it IS so fun omg just throwing enemies around like it’s nothing LMAO and i think spirit healer is lowkey fitting as well!! i’ve always been drawn to the star wars head cannon that, after losing qui-gon on naboo, he dives into studying healing. and then especially in the war, medical knowledge is a matter of survival. he’d pick it up anyway just be sheer force of will, even if he hadn’t been studying. (but in game that’s valid too lmaooo i barely play with anders in my party either)

and yesss i love trainer jinn!! i can just imagine, when they move into the mansion, him and obi-wan looking at the huge space and not knowing what to do with it. all it takes is a few days before qui-gon takes the unused foyer space and makes it into a training course instead LMAOO

that idea of barriss going to jinn!!! YES!! (i think too, there’s dialogue you have with anders in act 3 that’s along that line?? he talks to you about the mage and templar conflict and what can be done to end it, asking your opinion on if violence is necessary i think??) but yesss i think that fits really well. barriss talks to jinn, thinking he’ll be angry the same way she is, thinks he’ll offer her words of a rebellion, but instead he placates her and says things will settle in time. so maybe she goes to ahsoka instead, or ahsoka comes to her, and barriss is angry and frustrated and spits her distrust of the circles and how she wants to tear the whole system apart. but ahsoka doesn’t understand all of it, or does but thinks it’s just barriss venting, not a premonition for her actions.

that would be so wild if she still tried to frame ahsoka omg, it’d be interesting to still try and work that in!!

but god yea, obi-wan puts up a front 99% of the time, but the truth is he is terrified. and he won’t admit it to anyone -- the only reason he says anything to quin is because he’s been drinking, he’s tired, and he’s just so weary of this never ending conflict, panic, fear. he just wants to get to a point where they can all stop, relax, be okay, but he knows it won’t happen and god, he doesn’t know if he has the strength to keep living like this.

and when he tells anakin, it’s just in such a resigned way. anakin keeps going because he sullies his hatred, uses it as a weapon, and he sticks towards his goal -- kill danarius. kill the man who did this to him, and then the hunting stops. but obi-wan doesn’t have that solid goal, he can’t take on the entire institution of the circles by himself. he can’t even imagine trying to take on just the kirkwall circle, it would be such a hopeless battle. and the stakes are too high either way, it’s just not a fight he -- or any of them -- can afford, so he just has to live with his fear, this panic. always looking over his shoulder, forever worrying over his companions, wondering if he paints a target on their backs, too, just be being close to them. (DAMN this made me so SAD)

bruh that scene of the romance kills me every time. it’s so gut wrenching!! and YES THE RED FABRIC!! anakin definitely swipes a favor from obi-wan!!

also, if you want/it might be easier, you could add me on discord to talk more about the da au!! since tumblr messaging is hit or miss, and with replies it’s like, everything or nothing all at once? but it’s up to you! (my discord is kataleena#3538)

#elysethrillems

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vaguely-concerned · 1 year

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I'm playing through Dragon Age 2 again and I just can't get over how... idk how to say it exactly, but the way you feel, in every moment of this game, how much Varric loves Hawke. It feels entwined with everything, it breathes through every part of the narrative, it blooms diegetigally through the integration of story and gameplay, makes you a co-conspirator in that love in a way maybe only a video game could.

It's in the way I don't think this story is a defense of Hawke only -- or even primarily -- directed at Cassandra, but at Hawke themselves. Beneath everything else going on there's the quiet, utterly unshakable refutation of Hawke's worst fears: Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? . . . You're a failure, and your family died knowing it. Rising through the story as Varric tells it there's a fiercely tender voice saying: Yes, you did matter. In tragedy or in triumph, for better or for worse, in love or in hate, you always mattered. The ultimate tragedy of Hawke is always right there in the open before the story even starts letting you in on telling it; they couldn't fix anything. They couldn't stop the downward spiral Kirkwall was set on -- the real truth is that no one person ever could. And yet the point of DA2 is that it matters that they tried, and it matters that there were people who loved and were loved along the way, however badly it all failed in the end. Hawke is the Bioware protagonist who succeeds the least, and they're the character who matters the most, to me. (This is also why the Absolution reveal did not shake me in the least haha, my love for Hawke has nothing at all to do with whether they succeeded or failed at anything.)

What Varric is saying, in the only way he seems to be able to say the really real things -- through stories -- is so simple and so fundamental. You were here, and I loved you. There's the emotional heart of it, at the end of it all, that love and grief and recognition. It's so dizzyingly intimate. There's so much distancing, layers upon layers of obfuscation, to be able to say it. It drives me insane!!!! It makes me feel the same way that 'Poem' by Langston Hughes does:

I loved my friend. He went away from me. There's nothing more to say. The poem ends, Soft as it began,— I loved my friend.

He loved his friend. They went away from him. What more is there to say. (Many, many, many things, when you're a compulsive liar and storyteller, but hey sometimes you have to deploy a whole armada of lies to tell one simple truth, I understand, I'm a writer too lol)

#dragon age #varric tethras #dragon age 2 #dragon age meta #hawke #on second thought let's not go to kirkwall; it is a silly place #when merrill says she just says 'I love Hawke' to herself because it's the only thing in the world that makes sense sometimes...#varric clearly Felt That lol #how can I have played this game so many times and still have such intense feelings about this. help. the unreliable narrator got to me ok #dragon age absolution spoilers #it's real vague but let's be safe. anyway meredith can come back idc. the dragon from the bone pit could come back.#Hawke could keep falling on his face forever and I'll still be out here like 'You're doing amazing sweetie don't worry ;____;' the whole wa

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a-gay-bloodmage · 5 years

Text

—Wings—

Pairing: Merrill x Female Hawke

Pairing Type: F/F

Words: 1,985

Warnings: Kirkwall is a Pine Forest, Blue Hawke is the Biggest Sweetheart, So Much Pining, We Love Useless Bisexuals in This House

"Ser Hawke!" Marian turned around at the child's voice. She looked down to see a small elven boy who looked like he'd been rolling around in dust. He held a note out to her.

"Oh, thank you," she smiled, bending down a little to take the neatly folded note. "Here," she said, reaching into her coin purse to hand the boy two silvers for his trouble. He grinned and thanked her profusely before darting back off into the crowd. She leaned against one of the buildings bordering the crowded marketplace, opening the letter as casually as she could.

Dear Hawke, it started, in a familiar, adorable handwriting. I quite hope that this letter finds you quickly, because I have a bit of a situation at home. Don't worry, it's nothing very bad, but I would just like you to come over before you dismiss my situation because it's a little silly. Please, do not bring your dog. I'm afraid he would not be much help. Your friend, Merrill. Hawke felt her heart squeezing at the letter, the loopy handwriting addressed to her and her alone making her all but physically swoon.

She stuffed the letter into her breastband and left the marketplace without buying anything. She'd completely forgotten what she had even come to buy, but it didn't really matter at this point. She had an elf to attend to.

• • ♡ • •

She always felt a little out of place in the Alienage. Of course, it was partly due to her round ears and overall human-ness, with the fact that she seemed to be at least half a foot taller than everyone a major reason she stuck out like a sore thumb. At least her popularity with the elves was good. They seemed to approve of killing slavers and charity.

"Merrill?" She knocked three times on the door to Merrill's tiny little home. She cringed a little as she heard things banging around inside the house, a little just a minute! calling out from somewhere inside.

The door was yanked open after a second, revealing a disheveled but excited elf.

"Hawke!" She grinned. "You got my letter, then?" Marian nodded. "Come in, come in," Merrill said, gesturing for Hawke to follow. "Oh, I do hope Lord Stubs is at home," she said. "I don't think he would do much good here."

Hawke was glad Merrill's back was to her, not noticing the dumb smile on her face. Then again, Merrill wasn't very observant when it came to people liking her—Hawke knew this fact all too well.

"So... What is it you wanted me here for?" She asked, bouncing on her toes.

Merrill turned to her and smiled. "Wait here, I'll go get him," she said, running off to a corner of the tiny, one-room home. Hawke tried not to pay too much attention to the cracked mirror covered in moving darkness in the other corner as she leaned against the wall. "Okay," Merrill said, positively shaking with excitement as she reached into a small box. "Close your eyes, Hawke."

"If you put a spider in my hand, I'm going to be very cross," she said, smiling as she closed her eyes.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that to you!" Merrill giggled, her light footsteps hardly audible on the rickety wooden floors. "Alright, hold your hands out and cup them." Hawke did as she asked. "Now, be very gentle and don't squeeze too hard."

Hawke felt something light and fluffy being placed into her hands, and jumped a little when it started to move.

"Now," Merrill began, "why don't you-" She was cut off by a little peep coming from the thing in Hawke's hands. "Shush!" Merrill huffed a little. "She's supposed to guess!"

"Uh..." Hawke couldn't help but smile. "Is it... a tiny dragon?"

Merrill giggled. "No, don't be silly, I don't have the time to go searching around a dragon's nest for a little baby dragon!" She paused for a moment. "And spitting little bitty flames might not be so good in a wooden house..."

"Okay, what is it?" Hawke really wanted to open her eyes.

"Oh, just look, silly!"

It was a duckling. A tiny, adorable little baby duck. "Where did you get it?" Hawke laughed, holding the little thing tight enough so that it couldn't escape, yet gentle enough to not crush it.

"Well, I was down by the docks trying to buy some fish, you see, but the prices were too high and I decided that maybe I could go to the boats directly and see if they were willing to sell to me for a lower price. The fishermen are always so kind, really. Well, anyway, then I heard this itsy bitsy little peeping noise as I got closer to the shore," she said. Maker, Hawke could listen to her talk for hours. "So I went over to go look and see what this little peeping noise was coming from. And, what do you know, here's this tiny little baby duck with no mother in sight," she gave it a few pats on the head with her finger, making it peep again. "Well, I gave him a bit of lettuce I had in my bag, and I turned to leave. I figured he had a mum somewhere, but then he started following me!" She shook her head with a sad little smile. "So I scooped him up and brought him home."

"So you accidentally adopted a baby?" Hawke asked, stroking down the little duck's back with her thumb.

"Accidentally," she said, nodding. "So, I figured, you have Lord Stubs so you know how to care for babies. And your last name is a bird."

Hawke wouldn't deny that her mabari was just an oversized toddler with the capability to maim. "Well," she said, shaking her head with an amused smile, "looks like you need to either set him free or get ready for parenthood, Merrill."

"If I set him outside, he'll get eaten! Or stepped on!" Merrill shook her head. "No, no, I can't do that."

"Duck mum, then?"

Merrill gasped a little and smiled. "Duck mum," she repeated, nodding with conviction. "Here, hand him to me, please," she said, holding out her hands. Hawke handed the little guy over as gently as she could. "I'm going to put him back in his box," she said, walking over to the corner. Hawke followed to see the duck's accommodations. "See?" Merrill said as she set him down. "He has water-" She pointed to a shallow wooden bowl full of water that the duckling immediately jumped into. "- and food-" There was a pile of lettuce on a tea saucer. "- and light!" She had a small orb of glowing yellow light floating just over the makeshift pond. "I think he's pretty happy," she said, looking up at Hawke. "What say you, Hawke?"

"Uh, yeah, he seems content," she said, squirming a little under Merrill's adoring gaze.

Merrill tsked, shaking her head. "You're always getting hot flashes, aren't you?" She sighed. "Here, watch the duck for a moment, I'll get you some water."

Hawke nodded tightly as Merrill left. She let out the quietest breath she could as the elf went to fetch her a drink. Lord Stubs was going to have to sit through a long, drunken, love-struck rant tonight. Again.

She sat down on her knees and reached into the little crate, gently running a finger along the duckling's soft back. "Have you thought of a name yet, Merrill?" She asked, not looking up from the little duck that had stopped moving in favor of leaning into her touch.

Merrill hummed as she came over and sat down next to Hawke, handing her a glass of water. Hawke gratefully took it. "I was thinking... No, it's silly," she said, shaking her head. Her ears flopped a little with the motion and made Hawke's stomach flutter.

"Merrill, anything you say would be better than one of my ideas."

"Oh, don't talk bad about yourself Hawke," Merrill cooed. "Well, I was thinking when I was walking him home earlier," she said. "I walked by the stall in the marketplace where you bought me that journal, you see, and I thought of you." Her face went a little pink, and Hawke had to suppress the urge to think about why. "And, it's silly, but I just thought about how your last name is a bird, but with an e at the end..."

"So... duck? But with an e at the end?"

Merrill covered her pink face with her hands, laughing embarrassedly. "I know, I know!"

Hawke grinned, scooping up the little duck as gently as she could. "Merrill!" She said in a high, babyish voice, holding the duckling in front of the elf's face. "I think it's a wonderful name!" Hawke gasped, turning the duckling to face her. "You, too, Ser Ducke?" She asked, grinning. The duckling peeped at her, seeming to be on the same page. Merrill was looking through her fingers at the odd pair, green eyes sparkling. "Well, I think that settles it!" Hawke smiled, holding the fuzzy little thing to her face. "We both think it's brilliant!"

Merrill was shaking her head, smiling. "Hawke and Ducke," she said, laughing to herself. "Oh, what am I going to do with the two of you?" She gently scratched Ducke's chin, and he peeped happily, flapping his tiny wings. "Adorable, the both of you."

Hawke tried to keep her face from overheating, laughing a little awkwardly. "Well, I think he really likes you," she said. "Do you think he thinks you're his mum?"

"Oh, I hope so!" Merrill grinned. "I should make a little sling," she mused. "Walking around the marketplace would be very amusing with a little duck in a pouch." Hawke nodded. Merrill would look no stranger than usual with a fuzzy yellow duckling accompanying her. "I'll wait for him to grow a little bit more before I take him to Wicked Grace night," she said.

"Well, tell me when he's going so I leave Stubs at home," Hawke laughed.

"Oh, he does love chasing birds, doesn’t he?”

"Yeah, I-"

"Oh, Hawke!" Merrill gasped quietly, shushing her. "Would you look at that?"

Ducke had fallen asleep in Hawke's hands, his little head resting on Hawke's warm palm. It was adorable.

"Awe, you're like his second mum," Merrill cooed. "Here, set him down gentle in his box," she whispered.

Hawke set him down, shushing him as he let out a little peep of protest at being moved.

"Doesn't he look cozy?" Merrill asked in a whisper, her shoulder pressing against Hawke's. She held her hand over the little yellow orb of light, changing its colour to a dark red. "There, that should be better. Nice and toasty." She looked to Hawke, a soft smile on her lips. "It was nice having you over," she said, voice quiet.

"It was nice being over," Hawke said slowly, unsure of what to say. "You going to the Hanged Man for cards tomorrow?"

Merrill nodded. "I won't bring the little fella," she said, laughing softly. "So I think Ser Stubs would be welcome. I do enjoy playing cards with him."

Hawke smiled, shaking her head. Stubs was pretty good for someone without any hands. Merrill stood, offering her hand for Hawke to take. Her hands were small and warm.

"See you then," Hawke said, walking with Merrill to the door.

Merrill gave a quick nod, opening the door. The sun was setting, bathing the usually neutral-coloured Alienage in orange and pink. Before Hawke could say her final goodbyes, the words died on her lips as Merrill stood on her toes and planted a kiss on Hawke's cheek.

"Bye, Hawke," Merrill said, a gentle hand on Marian's shoulder.

"Bye," Hawke said, her entire body flooded with warmth.

Maker, Stubs was going to get an earful tonight.

#femslashfeb2019 #original content #dragon age #dragon age ii #da hawke #da merrill #merrill x hawke #i love my blue fem hawke #she's such a dork??? a giant warrior dork who loves the world's most oblivious little elven blood mage #oh boy this is late tho #like wow over eight hours later than usual.... oops #in my defense i was shopping with my grandma..... tomorrow's prompt is shopping so..... twas ''research''

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morfinwen · 6 years

Note

28, 37, 41, 43, 44, and 50 for all OCs :)

RIP anyone on mobile, here’s a “read more” for the rest of you:

28 - What are some of their guilty pleasures?

Reagan - Dumb phone games, some she’ll download just to play once then remove forever.

Chris - Action paperbacks, the kind with paper-thin characters, plots that fall apart if you think about them for more than two seconds, villains as realistic as a Saturday morning cartoon, etc.

Angie - Her abiding love for the Disney movies she watched as a child goes beyond what most adults will admit to. She wore out her old video cassette of Cinderella, and takes very good care of the stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh bear she’s had since she was a baby.

Neal - There’s this one soap opera he’s kept up on since he was nine years old. No one can know.

Elarin - She loves cheesy pop love ballads. No matter how ridiculous or sappy they are, if it's got a catchy tune, she’ll be humming it under her breath for weeks. HK-47 confirms this was a trait she had even back in her “terror of the galaxy” days, which has led to some interesting mental images for both Elarin and her friends.

Meaghan - She has a collection of various animal figurines she’s collected from all over the place, from all different manufacturers and planets. Most of them are brightly colored and made of cheap materials, almost none of them are realistic. About the only thing all of them have in common, besides being goofy imitations of animals, is that she likes the way they feel in her hands.

Leah - Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. So sugary you can feel your teeth rot when you bite into one. So packed full of preservatives they’ve lasted as long as she’s been alive (which also means most of them are at least slightly irradiated). Whenever she finds a box somewhere, though, she’ll pick it up and hide it somewhere, for when she’s having a bad day.

Avery - There have been various incidents across Kirkwall that have occurred suspiciously close to times and places Avery and Varric were left unattended for lengthy periods of time. Avery doesn’t regret a single shenanigan, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to admit her involvement to Aveline.

Ash - If, hypothetically speaking, Ash ever watched a romcom or chick flick -- which, given the general low quality of many of those types of films, he is definitely not likely to ever do -- he would only do it somewhere private, where if some part of the movie might by happenstance make him tear up, he could keep his emotions to himself and not have to deal with the judgment and opinions of others. All purely hypothetical. You have no evidence.

Lanzo - Reality TV. It’s ridiculous and melodramatic and over the top and not realistic in the slightest, but he can get sucked into watching it for hours. What else is he going to do during the daylight hours?

Connie - Chasing sticks. It’s not fetch, it’s more like catch. With himself.

Aidan - Musicals. Even the silly ones with pointless plots and unbelievable characters.

Nate - He used to love Skittles.

Q - Some animated show that he watched a lot of when he was a kid. Absolutely refuses to speak of it to anyone. He has copies of his favorite episodes saved on his laptop in a password-protected folder with a misleading name, just to make sure no one learns about it.

Niner - Yarn. It’s not that werecats have anything against yarn -- many of them are just as entranced by it as Niner -- but batting a ball of colorful yarn around on the floor is not part of Niner’s image.

Amanda - Self-describes her drinking habits as a quest to replace all internal fluids with Coca-Cola.

Ian - Twinkies. He knows they’re terrible for him, but it’s a road trip necessity. He had a minor freak out when Hostess went bankrupt and they stopped being sold for several months.

Lauren - The occasional cigarette, when she is extra stressed or angry and nothing else will calm her down. If she's particularly self-controlled, one pack will last two weeks. She is usually not quite that self-controlled.

Kira - An older teen romance werewolf movie. She knows it’s dumb, but the lead male is just. The cutest. The dreamiest eyes. His smile. His hair ...

Darcy - Chocolate covered marshmallow cookies. Dipped in peanut butter.

Susanna - Susanna is too young to have guilty pleasures. If she likes something, she likes it, and refuses to be ashamed about it.

37 - Do they like glitter?

Reagan - It doesn’t bother her, but no.

Chris - Giving someone a card with glitter on it is one of Chris’ ways of getting petty revenge on people who haven’t done anything bad enough to merit serious comeuppance. He’ll always add a little extra, in such a way that the recipient won’t notice beyond “wow, there’s a lot of glitter on this card”.

Angie - Not particularly.

Neal - No.

Elarin - Not usually, but sometimes a girl just needs to feel sparkly.

Meaghan - Doesn’t care either way.

Leah - Sure, in small doses.

Avery - I don’t think they have glitter in Ferelden. If they did, she’d love it, but mostly for petty revenge like Chris.

Ash - Ugh. No.

Lanzo - He has a glittery tiara that says “DIVA” that he wears sometimes when he's drunk. When he’s sober, its tendency to get everywhere irritates the heck out of him.

Connie - No.

Aidan - Eh.

Nate - No.

Q - No.

Niner - Won’t ever admit it, but has a certain fascination with anything shiny or sparkly.

Amanda - When she was younger, she did. Nowadays she’s just slightly more likely to buy a glittery card than the average person.

Ian - He would, except he seems to have extraordinarily bad luck with it.

Lauren - With as many siblings as she had, there was always something leaving glitter everywhere when she was growing up, so she’s developed a dislike of it.

Kira - Yes.

Darcy - No.

Susanna - No interest.

41 - Have they ever broken a bone?

Reagan - Once, broke her arm falling out of a tree.

Chris - A few, while playing sports.

Angie - Never.

Neal - If asked, Neal might talk about the one time he got his collarbone broken while playing football in junior high. He will not mention the other times he had a broken bone in his childhood. His parents get angry with him when he talks about those.

Elarin - Considering all the violent conflicts she’s been involved in, she’s suffered serious injury on multiple occasions, but even without amnesia she couldn’t tell you offhand how many of them involved broken bones.

Meaghan - Same.

Leah - Pre-War, she broke a couple fingers playing sports. Post-War … she lost count a long time ago.

Avery - A few. She also leads a conflict-heavy life, but she keeps to the back and lets her better-armored friends take the charge.

Ash - Slipped and broke his ankle one winter. Most boring winter of his life.

Lanzo - Not since becoming a vampire. Vampires can break bones, but it’s significantly less likely.

Connie - No. Werewolves are also tougher than humans.

Aidan - Phoenixes, on the other hand, have light bones that break more easily. The longest he’s gone without breaking something is eight months. (Fortunately, phoenixes also have methods of healing faster).

Nate - Broke his left arm once, and his left leg on a different occasion. The latter event was the one that put an end to his skateboarding/rollerblading days and kickstarted his interest in video games.

Q - He’s suffered a lot of batterings, thanks to riding a bike professionally -- mostly scrapes and minor cuts, but also more than his fair share of broken bones, he’s sure.

Niner - Probably not? When asked, she claims not to know what bones are, and shows no interest in learning. Q is 88% sure she’s joking, but … it’s Niner.

Amanda - Once, broke her leg very badly during an investigation.

Ian - Once, in college. He got lost on his way to class, and thought he was walking down a different set of stairs on the other side of campus -- ones that didn’t require you to be as mindful of where you put your feet.

Lauren - Answered.

Kira - Broke her collarbone once.

Darcy - No.

Susanna - Two fingers, one toe, her ankle, and one hairline fracture in her arm. Considering how much energy Susanna puts into doing everything, it might be a bit surprising she hasn’t broken more.

43 - Have they ever drunk underage?

Reagan - As a small child, she wanted to try her aunt’s wine. Janet figured allowing her a taste would put her off of it for a while, and it did. Reagan never drank again for years, until some very determined coworkers convinced her to accompany them to a bar after work.

Chris - He was at a few parties in high school where there was drinking going on, but he never had any himself.

Angie - Nope. No interest, no opportunities.

Neal - His dad’s idea of “male bonding” was making his twelve-year-old drink an entire can of beer while watching old videos of him playing high school football. Neal threw up shortly afterward, which did nothing to improve his relationship with his father, but it did mean he never “wasted” his beer making Neal drink it again.

Elarin - Never really had the opportunity, and wouldn’t have taken it if she had.

Meaghan - Ditto.

Leah - Someone spiked the punch at one school party Leah attended her sophomore year of high school. Before she’d had more than half a cup, her not-yet-boyfriend Nate warned her about it, and offered to see her home, as the friends she’d come with were not put off by the spiked punch.

It was a warm spring evening, so they walked home very, very slowly, talking about everything going on in the world and what they hoped to do to change things for the better.

Avery - I’m not sure if Ferelden has a drinking age. If it does, then no, but not for want of trying -- so many adults seemed to love alcohol so much, young Avery just wanted to know why, but the mean bartender never let her try any.

Ash - Nope. His dad took him to his favorite local pub shortly after Ash’s twenty-first birthday, and gave him a lot of advice on the topic.

Lanzo - If the concept of minors even existed when Lanzo was born, it was a very different understanding. He grew up drinking alcoholic beverages with pretty much every meal.

Connie - Disliking the taste of alcohol and/or being more susceptible to it are not so common among werewolves as to be a distinctive trait, but for some reason are more likely to be true of the average werewolf than the average human. For this reason, among others, there wasn’t much peer pressure or opportunity for underage drinking.

As an adult, Connie’s tried a variety of different drinks, all of which taste vile to him.

Aidan - No underage drinking, though he did visit a couple speakeasies during Prohibition.

Nate - A little in college, mostly just a friend offering him a taste of theirs. Once at a party he picked up someone’s mixed drink by accident and drank the entire thing. Apparently, Nate’s a great dancer once he loosens up a little.

Q - Not by British standards.

Niner - Werecats leave their immediate families when they reach physical maturity, usually in their early teens, and will travel for a while with others of the same age. One of the other werecats in Niner’s group discovered an abandoned bottle of whiskey on the side of the road, and gave it a try. His reaction was so strong everyone else in the group had to give it a try as well. None of them liked it.

Amanda - For a short period of her teenage years, Amanda rebelled against the strict rules and high expectations of her mother by engaging in various transgressive acts, such as sneaking into bars with fake ID and attending parties where alcohol was available. She was very careful never to get drunk, as she knew there would be serious consequences if her mother ever found out.

Ian - He accidentally drank some of his dad’s beer once as a kid. Like Reagan, it was enough to put him off of it for years. He tolerates some mixed drinks, but he’s still not super-fond of alcohol.

Lauren - She was raised Catholic, so she had wine with her first Communion in grade school. Apart from that, her parents permitted their children to have a single glass of wine at dinner on certain special occasions, once they were double-digits. Like most of her siblings, Lauren didn’t like the taste of it, but it made her feel very grown-up to ask for some. There was also a lot of competitiveness between the siblings, so once one had a glass, all the rest had to have it too, lest they be “shown up” by the others.

Kira, Darcy, Susanna - Nope.

44 - What is the first thing they do when they wake up?

Reagan - Check her phone.

Chris - He has a whole system that starts with getting up, making the bed, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, making breakfast …

Angie - Opens a window.

Neal - Wakes up gradually to the smell of coffee -- sets his coffee maker to start automatically in the mornings.

Elarin - Goes back to whatever she was doing before someone made her go to bed.

Meaghan - Meditates.

Leah - Helps whomever is making breakfast, or starts it if no one else has.

Avery - Mornings are difficult for Avery, so once she’s awake she just lays in bed for a while, until she feels better or something forces her to get up.

Ash - Makes tea and goes outside to watch the sunrise.

Lanzo - Has a drink.

Connie - Showers, if he has to work. Picks up the nearest book and leafs through it until he's fully awake, if he doesn't.

Aidan - If it’s rainy, and it usually is, he’ll get up, get dressed, and find some breakfast. On the rare occasions it’s sunny, goes outside, climbs onto the roof, and watches the sunrise for as long as he can.

Nate - Doesn’t sleep anymore. Back when he did, he would check his phone first.

Q - It takes him a while to fully wake up, so some mornings the first thing he does once he’s awake is make tea, other mornings he’s halfway on his way to work before he can be considered “awake”.

Niner - Food is the only thing on Niner’s mind when she wakes up.

Amanda - She uses the radio for an alarm, and her preferred daytime radio program starts a half hour before she has to get going, so she’ll lie in bed and just listen, letting herself wake up more gradually.

Ian - Wakes up to his alarm, hits the snooze button one too many times, gets up in a panic and drinks as much coffee as he can before leaving for work.

Lauren - Takes a cold shower.

Kira - Bury her head under her pillow, groan, then very reluctantly get up.

Darcy - Get dressed.

Susanna - Run downstairs for breakfast.

50 - Are they good at remembering significant dates? Anniversaries, birthdays etc?

Reagan - She’s not terrible at remembering. Whether she’ll do anything for it is a different matter.

Chris - Yes, but he’s not above getting it wrong or ignoring it if he feels it’s called for.

Angie - Always. In fact, there have been occasions where Angie has recognized a significant date for someone in her social circle and honored it appropriately without that person having any recollection of telling of her that such a date even existed, let alone when it was.

Neal - For the people he cares about, yes. Otherwise, probably not.

Elarin - Dates of personal importance, to her or those close to her, yes -- though mostly by setting up alerts to remind her and other, more subconscious methods. Otherwise she has trouble remembering what day it is.

Meaghan - She’s pretty good at remembering, unless something very serious comes up to distract her.

Leah - She’s good at remembering the actual date, but between all her responsibilities, the incredibly low likelihood of coming across any accurate calendars, and the fact that the Commonwealth’s weather patterns have changed a lot since she was growing up, she might not realize an important date has come up.

Avery - For Avery, recognizing the occasion is more important than getting the date absolutely right, but she is decent at recalling dates, and she makes a point for those to whom getting the date right is important.

Ash - As soon as he learns about an important date for someone who’s more than a casual acquaintance, he writes it down in his personal calendar/address book. You would really have to work to aggravate him enough not to send you a birthday card, once you’re in the book.

Lanzo - Yes, but after this much time, he occasionally mixes up what day is important to what person. Especially awkward when he confuses someone in the house’s birthday with the birthday of, say, one of his wives.

Connie - With a little effort, he can. He has a calendar with every important birthdate written down on it.

Aidan - Nope!

Nate - He remembers all important dates for his immediate family, and a few for his extended family. Otherwise, not really.

Q - Yes. Not really a benefit to him at present, seeing as most of the significant dates he remembers are for his ex-girlfriend and terrible aunt and uncle.

Niner - Vaguely aware of approaching holidays. Otherwise, can’t even tell what day of the week it is, or even what the days of the week are. She’s almost certain “Wednesday” isn’t a real word.

Amanda - She tries, but she gets so involved in her work that it can slip her mind until it’s too late. She really does put in an effort for her closest friends and family.

Ian - Answered.

Lauren - The only important dates she can really remember are those of her family and Ian’s family.

Kira - She only has to hear it once to remember it. Now if only that worked for her history tests …

Darcy - Has been known to forget when his own birthday is, so that would be a no.

Susanna - Not particularly, though she has on multiple occasions surprised people by remembering an important date they were sure she’d forgotten.

Long enough for you? Thanks for asking, though! Still fun working through these. Most of these, anyway. (Poor Neal ... )

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pestopascal · 6 years

Note

12 and 21 for basilia and saskia ✨

12. Describe 5 unusual characteristics your muse has

Basilia:

1. Saskia may have overprotectiveness of Bethany in the bag, but it’s honestly Basilia’s terrain. She’s fiercely protective of family and friends, and can border on violently quite quickly. Side effect of losing people in the Circle? Maybe, but don’t ask her that she won’t like it. It kind of comes to a head when she can’t find Velanna again, or when she pretty much eats the slavers who try to take her children.

2. She was pretty ambitious in the Circle. But in the sense of completely playing up the ‘sweetheart’ and can-do-no-wrong thing she had going on, even after she made Enchanter, but post-Blight she kind of went a bit wild. Whilst she knew Grey Wardens had some sort of autonomy, it’s only after Amaranthine was handed to her, after her return from Par Vollen, that she realised that, hey, I can own stuff. I can do stuff. I can tell nobles off. Granted she has to kill darkspawn every so often, but it really did ignite in her an ambition for wealth, a name, security, etc.

3. Basilia is really fucking wicked underneath it all. And not in the sexy sense, and not in the absolute awful sense, but she hides it pretty well. Ask her tutors about her time in the Circle, and they all parrot niceties. A smothered down part of her, that revels in blood magic. Sure, she’s trying to reform the face of blood magic by using it to help heal some of the worst wounds, but she has maybe played around with people’s minds, planted thoughts and suggestions, made people bleed to fuel her magic. Not people she knows, of course!

4. Her merciful side kind of died when she left the Circle, if there ever was one. Granted during the Blight, she was more likely to let people go, after either swearing fealty to their cause or just emptying their purse (and maybe dying after that okay). But after the Blight? Less likely to see people who cross her alive (I mean look at Bann Esmerelle). Being merciful and merciless are two sides of the same coin Basilia flips on a constant basis.

5. Charisma came with the territory. Sure, prior to that she had a hand on being persuasive, but being charismatic was a learned skill. Inspiring people to fight beside her, or just charming someone out of coin or help, Basilia had a tough time getting a handle on it. Magic definitely helped, and Basilia thanked the illusion school every day, because if she could keep someone’s eye on her, and be all mesmerising, then that worked too. Being a charismatic leader was not something Basilia thought she would be, but she got there.

Saskia:

1. Loyalty should just be Saskia’s middle name, with how much she put up with. Sure, she’d argue it was because Isabela owed her coin, or because Fenris wouldn’t stop grouching, or Merrill just really needed a hug and some weird elven artefact, but she’s loyal to her core. The negative to that too was letting Anders live. She doesn’t know if she made the right choice, and Saskia sure as the void hated the consequences of her actions, but her loyalty didn’t waver as she dragged Anders before Basilia. It just changed streams.

2. Maybe it’s because she’s Ferelden, but Saskia is stupidly courageous. Plucky was another word she’s quite fond of because it sounds cute, but she’s the one to dive headfirst into danger. Need a dragon killed? Time and day and she’ll be there. Elven myths? She made friends with a varterral, whatever man. Undead and demons and blood mages and red lyrium crazed templars? You know who to call. The only time she wasn’t, was when her name got put forward to duel the Arishok. But it’s kind of a defence mechanism too. If she’s throwing herself at danger, then she doesn’t have time to think about anything else, right? Right.

3. Probably a point of contention, and she doesn’t really interact with a lot of the conversations, but Saskia is quietly religious. Not to the extent that perhaps the Chantry would like her to be, but she is. There’s no real definition as to why, and maybe it stemmed from joining Bethany in Lothering’s chantry back in the day, or even long before that to a place she can’t pinpoint, but she finds some comfort in her religion, even if she hates it too.

4. Saskia has zero respect for authority. She’s awfully disrespectful, and normally it’s only directed to those in positions of power, but as the years go on everyone kind of begins to cop it a bit. Immediately conflicts with her personal beliefs because those in charge of Kirkwall are templars, being all ‘word of the Maker guides us’, but she has respect for Aveline. Everyone else? Prepare to meet a whirlwind of rudeness, lack of tact, and just not-giving-a-shit. It’ll tone down one day, just today is not that day.

5. She’s obnoxious. Loudly obnoxious, running around Kirkwall like she owned the place, but flipping it off at every second because she’s so horribly Ferelden. Her friends may find it a charming aspect of her sparkling personality, but Saskia has no time to be pleasant and well mannered, much to Leandra’s chagrin, when she could just hoot at the templars in the Gallows, do cartwheels through the middle of procession, and maybe decide to paint the statues of Andraste. And that’s her on a nice day.

21. Your character has been granted 3 wishes; what would they wish for and why?

Basilia:

1. To find out what really happened with Andraste, and if she was even a real person. It may seem pretty trivial and contradictory to her, in some ways, but Basilia just has a few theories she wants to prove about the woman they’re supposed to be under the eyes of the Chantry and well, she has to know.

2. That she’d been able to raise her children (Myra, René and Haytham). René found her when he was late teens, and a Grey Warden. At least she found Haytham when he was eight. But Myra? She’s in her twenties by the time Basilia meets her. She’s missed out on so much with her kids and it fucking kills her.

3. Quietly, a third wish that she debates on a lot of the time: that she wasn’t a mage. It seems obvious, and sometimes silly, and she knows just how much she’d have to give up for it, but if she hadn’t been a mage, she would’ve stayed with her mother in Kirkwall.

Saskia:

1. Rewrite the events that happened in Kirkwall. Divine intervention should’ve happened, and it didn’t, and Saskia had a crisis of faith she didn’t need, she lost two people that day she loved dearly, and she hasn’t quite recovered. Don’t know if she ever will.

2. It’s not really a wish, because Basilia tells her constantly that she had the option to either not have Gaius, or be with him all the time, but just the name is a wish enough. Gaius. What does Saskia actually wish for, when she looks at her son? He’s being raised happily with Basilia’s little clan. He would find a better life there than she could ever give him. But she regrets bringing him into a world full of misery and awfulness. She doesn’t know what she feels, and maybe that’s what she wants to be made clear.

3. Carver. She wants Carver back. She just wants her shitty little brother and his shitty little opinions and his dumbass ideas and she wants him so she can hug him and hug Bethany and they’ll all be okay and everything will be fine again and maybe she wants her dad back too because she misses Malcolm so damn much every single day, and now Leandra is gone and it doesn’t get any better. She wants Malcolm to explain what happened in the Vinmark mountains, and she wants Carver to tackle her to the ground and sulk over not having a mabari, and she wants all of them to drink in the Hanged Man while Bethany moons over Sebastian or something.

She wants her old life back.

#vilemie #replies #ask meme #oc: basilia amell #oc: saskia hawke #THIS WAS HARD TO THINK ABOTU HONESTLY #fk #admittedly i had to keep looking up the word #characteristic just to make sure i was using it correctly #bc english sucks and theres too many words #AND I WROTE HUGE THINGS IM SRY GOOD BYE #ok no tactually #purposely ran on sentences in the last one #bc saskia kinda took over a little #pls excuse me

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ilyasvieltrevelyanshepard · 7 years

Text

Unusual Friendship - Day 7

My participation on the Day 7 in the Cullen Appreciation Week!

Noodle Salad! - Rare pairs and non-canon ships

This is where you hit us with all those ships we’ll never see in the games but which you’re super passionate about!

I didn’t write anything new for that day because I LOVE how this one ended and is one of my favs XD

Is a Cullrian (Sorry, if you don’t ship them, but if my Inquisitor can’t take care of Dorian, for me, the better option is my beloved Commander... sooo sorry, but not sorry :P)

Link to the A3O work Unusual friendship (2 chapters, smut is in the second one, the fluff and adorkable part in the first :P)

Summary: Dorian has fall head over toes for the Commander, but the man sees him only as a friend... or that is what the 'vint thinks.

My characters tend to be extra sweet, maybe non-canon personalities, but is how I imagine them. For me, Cullen is a very sweet and loving person, and Dorian is even worse, using his sense of humour and the 'peacock attitude' to put some distance between him and whoever who can hurt him. No beta reading!

A snippet of the fic (is a long one ._.)

The sun is setting behind the mountains, long shadows starting to cover the garden of Skyhold. Not a single soul is roaming the area, even the Chantry sisters are inside, doing their evening prayers. Dorian takes a look around, casting a little orb of light. “Well Commander, I think we will need to postpone our rematch or move our little party to another place. It seems like we’ve been sitting here for hours!”

Cullen moves a hand to his neck, in a gesture that always makes Dorian’s heart jump inside his chest. “Yeah. Maybe we can continue tomorrow. I distracted you almost all the evening, and you have a lot of work to do.”

Dorian starts to put the chess pieces inside the wooden box, “Don’t be silly, Rutherford. I needed the distraction, almost as much as you. Is not every day that we can take a break without thinking that the sky will explode again or a crazy old Tevinter can unleash his army against us. Let me enjoy it for as long as I can.” The part where he thinks about expending time with him remains inside his head. Is painful enough to fall in love with a man who didn’t want you, no need to let him know about it to give him the weapons to hurt you even more.

Cullen nods, helping him to store the rest of the pieces. “We can continue the evening on my tower if you want. I have a chessboard there, Lavellan bought it for me at Val Royeaux.”

“Add some wine and food, and you have a deal, Commander. Prepare yourself, the next will be mine.” With a movement of his wrist, Dorian makes the orb of light disappear. The darkness around them has grown while they talked. Pushing the chair back, Dorian stands up, moving outside of the gazebo with all the care he can.

When he is almost outside it, Cullen collides with him from behind, his arm wrapping his waist to stop his falling. “Sorry, Dorian. Did I hurt you?”

Dorian closes his eyes, memorising the feeling of Cullen's body against and after a few heartbeats, he sighs softly. “No worries, Commander. I suffered worse fates than being hit by a handsome ex-Templar.” His irony always gives him an extra layer of protection and gives the rest a way out if needed.

Cullen let him go, retaking a step. “Maybe it will be a good idea to light one of your orbs, at least until we leave the garden.”

A little ball of light appears near Dorian's head, lighting the area around them softly. “Come on, Commander. Let's go before one of the Chantry sisters starts to chastise me for using magic against you.”

The Commander takes a long step to put himself beside Dorian before he starts walking to the main hall door. “They still pester you? I can't believe the close mind one has to have to think ill of you after all you have done.”

They reach the passage that leads to the door and Dorian ends the spell, the light of the torches on the corners of the hallway gives enough light to find the door without tripping. “Then the Inquisition is full of closed minded persons, my friend. But don't worry about me. I learned to ignore them, and after your last intervention, no one has harassed me, at least physically.”

Cullen's lips are pressed into a tight line, displeasure clearly over his face, even in the little light of the area. Dorian just shrugs, giving him a pat on the arm when he opens the door to the main hall. When they cross the second one, they find the room almost empty. Some nobles and soldiers are eating around the long tables, and Varric is sitting in his usual spot near the fireplace, reading and taking notes. He raised his head when he heard the steps move closer to him. “Good evening, Curly, Sparkles. The match has been a long one, right? How many cheating did you let him make this time, Curly?” A soft chuckle leaves the Commander, and Varric looks very pleased with it. “Keep going then, don't let this boring dwarf distract you from the fun, I have to read another dozen of reports of my investments on Kirkwall. So much fun for a lovely night like this!”

Dorian passes by his side, stopping in front of the door to the rotunda. “Try not to bore yourself to death. The Chargers will be unbearable without you stealing his gold almost every night.”

The sound of Varric’s laugh accompanies them inside the rotunda. The area is quiet; is dark enough for the crows to be sleeping and only Helisma is still working on the Library. Even the rotunda is empty, Solas’ desk lacks a bald and stiff elf. Cullen walks directly to the door that leads to his tower, but Dorian stops in the middle of the rotunda. “Commander, I got a couple of antivan wine bottles in my room, we can share them if you want. Maybe with some wine on your system I can even beat you.”

Cullen’s smile is so bright that Dorian feels his inside melting but remains with a neutral face. He has never been grateful about the strict formation he received as a child to not let his thoughts show on his face, until now. The blonde nods to him, “Do you need help?”

“I think I can handle it, Commander.”

With a shrug, Cullen gives him his back again, opening the door. “Don't be late, or the siren song of my paperwork will kidnap me again.”

#Day 7 #Cullen Rutherford #Dorian Pavus #DAI #Cullrian #smut with feelings #fluff overload

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