#or carver and anders could know each other from the wardens and one day anders tells hawke that they remind him of another warden he knew

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

I'm back on my bullshit thinking about the Hawke siblings again and how much I love a "both twins live" AU... but y'know what I love just a little bit more? An AU where all three Hawke siblings are alive, but one of the twins still get attacked by the ogre in Lothering and is presumed dead when they actually survived.

I like to think that since the narrative in DA2 is framed as a story Varric's telling Cassandra, we can play around with the fact that he's an unreliable narrator. Varric wasn't there in Lothering. He only knows what Hawke told him. It makes for a better story if Leandra, Hawke, and the surviving twin get to huddle around the dead twin and say their goodbyes... especially if they didn't actually get to do that. I mean, a lot of us already have that train of thought when it comes to Leandra's death and Hawke getting some closure through her final words telling them how proud she is. Whose to say Varric didn't do that for the lost twin, as well?

All that to ask what if the ogre attack happened, but the group was so overwhelmed by darkspawn they had to flee further and couldn't check the twin who "died?" Flemeth still showed up, but it was too late to go back and say goodbye.... so Hawke made a deal with the Witch of the Wilds and they all pushed forward to Kirkwall.

Imagine Bethany, left behind with broken bones and bleeding in the sand, fading in and out of consciousness as the remaining darkspawn surround her. She knows how to heal, how to fight back, but she's weakened. Her staff lays out of reach. Air shakes in her lungs. She tries to call for help, but only wheezes come out. Where's her mother? Her siblings? Did the ogre get them, too?

At this point, we all know what happens to the women darkspawn take, and Bethany could've met that fate; she doesn't have the strength to fight back as they drag her away. But before they can bring her underground, she's saved by another group of survivors. Perhaps they're more soldiers fleeing Ostagar, or townsfolk who recognize her from Lothering. They do what they can to treat her wounds but she needs a healer, so they bring her with them to seek refuge in Redcliffe... except they eventually realize she's an apostate. Well, she doesn't seem dangerous, but they still contact the templars.

Bethany wakes in a warm but unfamiliar bed with skilled healers tending to her. Templars hover by the doorway. First Enchanter Irving greets her, gentle in explaining she's safe inside of Kinloch Hold and that she's going to survive. When Bethany asks about her family, he gives her a sympathetic smile and says they only found her.

Bethany, who never took to embracing her magic the way her older sibling did and always felt like it burdened her family... has lost that very family. Could they survive the ogre and darkspawn? Or did the ogre tear them apart, too? How did she survive... but not them? Did the Maker really have such a sense of humor? How else would she end up in the Circle, a place her family went to great lengths to keep her safe from?

She doesn't want to think about it. She hopes they made it to Kirkwall, but the prickle of dread that crawls up her spine knows how unlikely it is. Bethany finds comfort in speaking with the mages who rotate in to heal and bring her food. Some feel trapped by their magic just as she does, but others remind her of her older sibling in the way they embrace their magic, a gift from the Maker. The younger apprentices who aid the mages ask her questions about what lies beyond the walls. The templars mostly keep their distance, but one is friendlier than others. A man with curly blonde hair and a sympathetic view of the mages bothers to speak to her more than his fellows do.

She's still in recovery when Uldred and his blood mages attack the tower, but she survives. Bethany heals, even as she's haunted by nightmares of the ogre wrapping its tainted hand around her body to crush her, flinging her aside to lay among the limp bodies of her family... haunted by the horrors the blood mages unleashed on the tower. She aids in restoring the tower the best she can, and accepts her new home, her new life. When she's well enough, she lights a candle for each of them; her father, mother, her eldest sibling, her twin... she even lights a candle for the family mabari, and prays to the Maker to give them her love as they stand at His side.

The Blight ends. Years pass. Bethany settles into her new life, becoming a fine example for the younger apprentices she mentors. She witnesses wrong doings against her fellow mages, loses friends to their harrowings or tranquility. She accepts what she is, even if bitterly. The Chantry's teachings about magic scar more than enlighten; she sees it in some of her fellow mages, feels it in herself. Secret meetings. Whispers of escape, of freedom. More escape attempts. Harsher restrictions.

Around this time, back in Kirkwall, Knight-Captain Cullen stands where he always does in the Gallows courtyard. He notices Hawke appear with some of their companions. It hurts to think back to Kinloch Hold, but something occurs to him: he knew of another Hawke who was brought to the Circle while he served there. They only spoke once before... well, before. He wonders if there's any relation. When Hawke wanders over to speak to him, as they always do, Cullen brings it up.

Hawke pales. A beat of silence. Cullen recognizes heartbreak; he sees it unfold in their eyes and swell in their throat as they realize that all this time, their baby sister was alive.

Then the day comes where new whispers float among the mages in the Circle. A visit by a Grey Warden. Most, including Bethany, assume he's here to recruit... until Irving comes to her. He says this warden's requested, though more like insisted, he see her now. But then Irving smiles; the warden in question said his name is Warden Carver. He received an urgent letter that his sister is here, alive, and he demands to know if that's true.

Bethany nearly collapses when she sees him.

While the reunion can't last; she can't leave the Circle and he has his calling; the twins embrace, sobbing out apologies and exclamations that they thought the other was gone. Carver tells her of Kirkwall, the expedition that led him to the Grey Wardens, and their older sibling's status as Champion. With a gentleness she never knew her brother to have, he tells her what happened to their mother, and more tears flow freely. Their sibling learned about her from a templar, though Carver grumbles that the bastard could've said something sooner.

There's the Maker's humor again.

...Now flip the script: imagine Carver being left behind instead.

For as strong and passionate as he is, that ogre still picks him up and slams him to the ground. Bones crack. Black splotches flood his vision, agony exploding across his skin. His sword flies from his hand. The soulless bastard tosses Carver aside like he's nothing, and he's left to lay there. His mother's cries muffle in his ear as though he's stuck underwater, sinking slowly into the dark.

It figured, honestly... that he'd survive Ostagar while his fellow soldiers were cut down all around him, that he and his eldest sibling would flee the field when all hope was lost... that he'd make it home to get his family out of Lothering... only to die protecting his mother. And why not? He is a protector. A warrior. It's a honor to die saving those he loved... so why didn't it give him peace?

Carver eventually wakes in the night among the bodies of fallen darkspawn. Everything aches painfully hot and his thoughts reject coherency. He knows his family is gone; they're dead, or they've fled... either way, he's alone; left behind. Something's broken inside of him, but he has just enough will to pull himself up at the sound of approaching footsteps. A group of survivors find him- funny enough, the same group who aided Bethany in an alternate timeline. Imagine that.

That's how Carver ended up in Redcliffe's Chantry with an overworked healer tending to him. He doesn't even flinch when the mage works their magic on him, knowing all too well the sensation of healing magic seeping into his skin, mending the flesh. He tries not to think of Bethany, or what might've happened to her.

The Chantry's overwhelmed with townspeople hiding from a danger outside that he can only assume is darkspawn... except it's not. He wonders how hard he hit his head when he hears the undead have come from the castle to slaughter what they can of the town every night. But then he sees it with his own eyes when one breaks in, taken down by a templar, and never before has he ever felt so useless.

Then the last two remaining Grey Wardens arrive. They're crucial in the final fight against the undead, swearing to enter the castle to stop the attacks at the source. While Carver couldn't participate in the final fight, something he complained loudly about, he did what he could in his condition to help like sharpening swords and handing out supplies. Mostly to keep his sanity and quite his thoughts throughout his recovery.

When the time came, he took up his sword again in the name of all those he lost.

An archdemon was said to be on the horizon, and the Grey Wardens needed everyone they could get to fight. Carver fights in the battle of Denerim where the Hero of Fereldan defeated the archdemon. He cuts his way through every darkspawn he sees. Ostagar flashes red behind his eyes. Lothering clutches at his heart. So much anger and sorrow built up inside him, flooding out in his tears and screams. Blood everywhere. Fire and smoke.

Then it's over.

In the aftermath of the Blight, like so many others, Carver has no home to return to. No family. He thinks to go back to Lothering to help rebuild, only to hear the lands were too tainted. These tainted creatures took everything from him... That's what eventually brings him to Vigil's Keep, standing before the Hero of Fereldan themself, asking to be made a Grey Warden. He already dedicated nearly two years of his life to killing darkspawn, and he had nothing else. Even when faced with the Joining, holding the chalice of darkspawn blood and being told to drink, he didn't flinch.

Life as a Grey Warden isn't as simple as he assumed it would be, but Carver finds purpose in his calling. Over the years, he grows to view his fellow wardens as family. He travels all over Thedas, venturing down into the Deep Roads to help clear out hoards of the darkspawn. But then comes the day he finds himself in Kirkwall, and it doesn't take long before he hears the name Hawke on the lips of the townspeople. His eldest sibling was not only alive, but they're quite popular among the people. But what about Mother? Bethany? He doesn't have to snoop too far to learn templars took Bethany away to the Gallows, and that Leandra Hawke was the final victim in a string of murders committed by a blood mage.

Carver finds himself standing outside the estate, glaring at the door. Furious. Heartbroken. Bitter. He wants to scream. This entire time, they lived. He's torn between wanting to reunite with his older sibling again, to get the truth from them, and wanting to barge into the estate, demanding answers to how they could let the Circle take Bethany... after what Carver sacrificed, how could they let Mother die like that? Was it all pointless in the end?

He leaves without knocking. He can't bring himself to see them. Not that it mattered. Before he could leave Kirkwall, the tensions with the qunari finally overflowed, and chaos fell upon the city. He's forced face to face with his older sibling again, but he wasn't prepared to watch the recognition slowly bloom on their face, or for all his anger to turn to mush. Carver's the first to speak.

"Somehow, I knew it would be you."

.............So, yeah. I really like this idea.

#da2 #dragon age 2 #bethany hawke #carver hawke #long post #there are so many routes you can take with this too like hawke finds out bethany's alive in fereldan's circle #and they gather all their companions like 'y'all we're doing a heist' 'great what are we stealing?' 'my sister' #'...isn't your sister dead?' 'APPARENTLY NOT' #or carver and anders could know each other from the wardens and one day anders tells hawke that they remind him of another warden he knew #and hawke is like '.............that little shit survived and he didn't tell me?? i'm telling mother' #OR both bethany and carver end up as wardens and happen to run into each other like '????? I thought you were dead?????' #and tbh bethany doesn't have to end up in the circle or carver with the wardens. that's just the paths i explored #maybe they're found by the warden and alistair who have wynne fix them up and they join the dao party #hell this could be backstory for an inquisitor carver or inquisitor bethany in dai #also yes this post is my way of saying that i love this idea but i'll probably never turn it into a fic so let me gush about it this way

[deedeemactir]

(pulling up a chair) so talk to us about hawke/cullen…….

Oh I’m so glad you asked!

I play a blue rogue Hawke who initially pretends to support the Templars in an effort to keep Bethany safe. Headcanon time: Cullen recognizes that Bethany is a mage immediately, but because they saved his life that day on the Wounded Coast and then proceeded to aid the Templars and even rescue Keran, Cullen doesn’t immediately take Bethany in — though privately he makes it clear to Hawke that they’re on borrowed time.

It doesn’t matter though, because Bethany becomes a Grey Warden. Had she not went into the Deep Roads, Cullen would’ve taken her to the Circle. What Hawke later finds out from Cullen is that he and Bethany already had an arrangement in place. After the Deep Roads, she was going to turn herself in to him. Her cooperation would mean that the family could be spared the charges of harboring an apostate, and Bethany would finally get to stop running. Hawke doesn’t know what to make of this.

Leandra in many ways blames Hawke for Carver’s death and Bethany’s absence. Late one night, they have a huge fight, which sends Hawke to the Wounded Coast, where Cullen finds her alone and freezing at daybreak. They talk. And, long story short, they end up back at her house. They quickly become very close, while keeping the time they spend together a secret from everyone, but their relationship remains platonic until the night of the Qunari attack.

Hawke supports the mages. Cullen thinks most mages are a threat. But after Leandra’s death at the hands of a blood mage, Hawke turns to Meredith, of all people — which means Hawke begins to support Meredith just as Cullen finally begins to pull away from her. Over the course of Act 3, they effectively flip-flop on their beliefs, and it isn’t until Anders blows up the Chantry and Hawke is confronted with the madness of dooming every mage in Kirkwall for the actions of one man that she realizes just how brainwashed she’s let herself become — as a parallel to Meredith’s encouragement of Cullen’s trauma from Kinloch. In the end, Hawke protects the mages while Cullen tries to get a handle on the situation from his side (if you’ve ever seen the Templar ending where Cullen asks for the mages to be spared, you know what I mean). And when all is said and done, Hawke and Cullen decide to give their relationship a break until the two of them are in a better place. If they’re both single by that time, they’ll try again, and if not, they give each other permission to move on.

Of course, that means Varric isn’t the only one hiding the full truth from Cassandra, but I have a separate fic planned for that ;) ;)

Don’t worry, Hawke and Cullen do end up together in the end. Kirkwall nearly killed them both. Returning to the Fereldan countryside to start a Templar hospice sounds like a good retirement for them both.

#cullen rutherford #hawke x cullen #cullen x hawke #dragon age headcanon #oc lore #hawke dragon age

[greypetrel]

For the Hurt and Comfort prompts, how about "It's okay to cry, you know."

Let’s all collectively forget that I posted another prompt under this ask, AH-EHM.

By the way here it is, thank you for asking! <3

Note: I couldn’t pick one Hawke over my two so they’re brothers. Garrett’s one year younger, Varric wrote two versions with one of the siblings in each and slightly different details (odd editions have Raina, even ones Garrett, to confuse the things. The real Champion is Raina, Garrett’s more on the corner. Which seem fitting, as you know. A blood mage. Wouldn’t like so much attention.)

Tis the prompt list!

10. “It’s ok to cry, you know."

The mansion was quiet.

The mansion was too quiet, and Raina hated it. Her mother was out to some other noble estate, having dinner and celebrating how the human disaster of her eldest daughter saved the city, whispers around town calling her Champion.

How she hated that title, as if it was a good thing or has been a success and she almost didn’t die skewered by the Arishok for futile motives. Because truth to be told, a part of her would have just let the Qunari have their way in that fucked up city, fix everything, leave her be, fix her mistakes. Weren’t it not for Isabela. Isabela who had returned, for her, and handled herself to death to save her from doing something stupid. So, she did it. And she won, for much simpler and less noble reasons.

Garrett was out too, Maker knew where. She didn’t exactly know what happened with Fenris, just that they spent the last month dancing around each other and then... Stopped even looking at the other. She named the elf, casually, and Garrett ran out of home, once. As he ran out this evening, lamenting there was no good beer in the pantry and he needed one.

He shouldn’t have gone out on his own. Not now, not when Meredith saw him casting magic. It was her fault: she shouldn’t have brought him along, she should have insisted for him to remain to Lowtown. And now.

She was still forced to rest, the deep cut in her chest was healed, but it itched still even if Anders got by every day to heal her some more. But it’s only been three days, and the mage could only do so much for her, with so many wounded in the city to attend to. She didn’t blame him.

But, she could admit even to herself that she couldn’t sleep at night because she was terrified that Templars would have barged in for Garrett, and she would not have been in good condition to face them. They would have taken him away, as they did with Bethany. As the Wardens did with Carver and the sting of their meeting in the Docks was even worse than the itch in her chest.

Add the fact that Isabela -whom she totally had no feelings for as the piratess asked, not at all after she returned and gave her the Qunari book at the price of her life- hadn’t shown up after it was clear that she was out of danger, and Merrill... She has been a plain asshole with Merrill, the elf didn’t deserve it and she wanted to punch herself.

She was antsy and restless and wanted to grab her daggers and get into a brawl. Or jump head first into a barrell of the strongest brew in the Hanged Man and get awfully drunk. Maybe get awfully drunk AND get into a brawl. That sounded like a nice solution.

And yet, she was stuck there, crouched on an armchair before the fire in her living room, Bodahn and Sandal retired for the night, Beowoof protectively curled around her feet offering little comfort, leg bouncing up and down in that way that would have driven Varric crazy.

Because she was not ready to face a Hanged Man full of people who knew her and would have greeted her as Champion of Kirkwall, raised their glasses and cheered at her. There wasn’t anything to cheer about her: if there was one thing she was Champion of, that was making always the worst decision and faking confidence.

She was still musing like so when she faintly heard the entrance door opening, from her left. The dog snapped up, barking happily once in a greeting. So, someone known, maybe-

“Garrett?” She asks, frantic, head snapping up.

“Wrong mage…” A small voice said, and indeed it was a different black-haired mage the one that peeked through the door, a small smile on her face.

Merrill. Great, just what she needed right now. Hey, Raina, here’s one of your latest big mistakes stepping shily in the room, smiling sweetly at you as if nothing had happened, as if the last time she was here you didn’t say a wrong, mean thing and sent her running from the front door. Well not running, but still, her leg bounced quicker, frowning at the fire.

“Sorry. I was expecting him to come home. It’s pretty late.”

“It is.”

“You shouldn’t be here either, what if anyone caught you coming all the way up here?”

“I came to check on you. Garrett is at the Hanged Man, we missed you.”

“No, you don’t.” She corrected, brashly. “And so you picked the short straw and had to left the fun to come up here and check on good old me.”

She concluded the reasoning, kicking away the chair and walking away from an approaching elf, wincing visibly as the movement pulled on her wound, but not minding it much and carefully going to keep busy with some letters or whatever that were left on the desk, back carefully turned away. Beowoof whined, and Merrill cooed at him, reassuringly.

“I didn’t pick any straw, I just said good night and came up here.” This wasn’t for the dog, this was for her.

“I’m fine as can be, you don’t need to do this, Mer. You… You don’t owe me anything. Not after… Well. I’m fine.” She wasn’t, but it wasn’t for the elf to know. Not anymore, at least.

She tried to move away again when she heard Merrill walking her way, but the elf was quicker, placing a hand on hers and blocking her in place. All Raina could do was stubbornly turn her head away.

“I said the wrong thing and rushed in, and you panicked. I… I am sorry if I reacted that way, Hawke, you didn’t do anything wrong. I know you and Isabela…”

Oh, fantastic. Merrill baring her heart with her all over again, and now the Isabela talk. She didn’t want to talk about it. She grimaced and shook her head.

“It’s fine. I should have kept my hands to myself, I led you on and hurt you. Just…” She charmed her way up the social ladder, one witty remark at a time. And yet, when it came to Merrill, Raina was left speechless. Something in the elf just blocked her need to always mask with a joke, maybe it was that those eyes were too big, too clear, or that she always seemed to know what was going on. But, she had to tell her. She owed her as much and this was a good time as any. “…You weren’t a substitute because I was feeling alone. It’s… It’s difficult to explain.”

Against all odds, Merrill giggled.

“I know people can love more than one person that way. That’s fine.”

And with that, Raina snapped to her, staring.

“What?”

“Mahariel was like that. She never bonded with Tamlen because the idea of being with just one person didn’t feel right with her. But I never saw her with anyone else because Tamlen was of a different mindset. I don’t think they would have lasted long together, even if he… Well.”

She shrugged, concluding the speech without actually voicing what happened. That was still an open wound for her, Raina knew. It wasn’t common for her to talk about either Alyra or Tamlen, and she knew the elf blamed herself, even partially, for what happened. She was right about to ask more questions, but the elf preceded her, turning back to her. With the same attentive look on her that made her kiss her the first time. She wouldn’t have done the same mistake, now, tempted as she was.

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Raina. Really, I don’t. If this takes off some weight from your shoulders… You have enough of that without adding me. I asked you not to save me, didn’t I?”

She did. She did, but the truth was that the one needing saving was Raina. There really weren’t many people calling her by her name anymore, and it was… Too much. She lowered her gaze, staring intently at a letter between her hands and forcing herself not to cry. It was a practiced exercise and she managed.

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for that. But… I’m happy you’re not angry.” That, at least, was true.

“Mh. Wanna talk about something else? I can listen. I’m good at listening, at least.”

“No.” She shook her head, blowing up as a stray lock fell into her eye and ignoring how her shoulders contracted more. “Thank you for coming all the way up here and talking to me. I’m fine, really.”

The elf, tho, didn’t buy it. She moved closer, brushing her arm with hers.

“A lot of things happened, and I don’t think you are.”

“I am. I’m up and about, Anders patched me up, I’m resting as he told me, Carver is fine, the city’s still standing. I’m fine.”

A moment of pause. Beowoof huffed from below, curling closer to the fire and setting to sleep. The fire still crackling in the hearth, silence all around. Some light tapping from outside told them it started raining.

“You can cry, you know?”

Merrill prodded, caressing the back of her hand with her thumb. Without saying anything else, just… Just a small permission that pierced through all the walls Raina carefully built to keep herself up and serve to the world -and most of her family and friends as well if she had to be honest- a carefully constructed image. She was the one that took care of others, that couldn’t be stopped, that would get shit done. There was no time to cry or for weakness. Except…

Except that that kindness, that invitation that asked for nothing in return and promised no judgement, made her walls crumble. She folded on herself and tears started rolling down her cheeks, fat and wet and so many she couldn’t stop them, no matter how hard she tried. She gurgled something with irritation that could have been a sob, in someone else’s mouth, and rubbed angrily at one eyes with the back of her hand, the one that wasn’t still under Merrill’s.

It scared her shitless to cry in front of others, but Merrill was good like that. She didn’t flinch, didn’t make a comment, Raina just felt her hand on her shoulder, quietly guiding her to sit down on the floor and coming to hug her, holding her as she cried, cooing soft words of comfort and reassurance in her ear. She felt even worse for sending her off, that night, and it just made her cry all the more, curled around the smaller Mage and pouring her heart out as she never did since… Well, the last time she could remember, it was the night her father died. It lasted little, tho, she had to be strong for Garrett and her mother. The twins still too little to fully understand.

Merrill guided her up and to her bed, still speaking softly and telling her it was all right, everything was all right, there was nothing wrong in crying and she did her best, her very best and the city was safe because her best was more than enough. She let Merrill guide her and bring her around, unlace and slip of her boots and tuck her into bed, drying tears with a handkerchief she found on her bedside table.

All she managed to say to her, stupidly and childishly and if it wasn’t Merrill Raina would have just jumped out of the window to her death before admitting it, was just a croaking, horribly weak.

“Don’t go. Please.”

But it was Merrill, Merrill who was strong and unflinching as she was tender. So, she just smiled, kissed her forehead, reassured that she would have been here as long as she would have needed, and caressed her hair, humming a song very badly -she couldn’t keep a note- to her, until she fell asleep and all the tears she’s been saving for years, carefully tucked away as treasures, finally stopped pouring out of her.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #hawke x merrill #merrihawke #dragon age fic #raina hawke #da fic #greypetrel #writing petrel

[sweetmage]

SebastianxBethany -or- CarverxMerrill

Hi! Sorry for the late response! Well, late for me anyway, I guess it's still the same day😅

For Seb/Bethany... I don't actually ship this personally. I would try to answer the questions anyway for fun, but unfortunately I don't know Bethany very well/have never seen them together other than skimming their banters on the wiki so I don't think I can't add much😅No shame to them at all though, I have seen some of their banters and they definitely got some little thang going on!!! As for Merrill/Carver... I like them a lot 😌

when I started shipping it if I did: This was my first DA2 ship. I was sad when Carver left (and even sadder that he became a templar in my playthrough, like come on...), I wanted to see more of him and Merrill!!!!

my thoughts: I think they are very awkward and cute, love how flustered he gets around her. It's also really sweet to see the softer side of him.

What makes me happy about them: Same as above! Also height difference. They're also just very funny, I loved that she thought everything he said was an innuendo when he was being more wholesome than Hawke could ever hope to be when flirting with her. She also doesn't pick on him or antagonize him the way the other characters seem to!

What makes me sad about them: They get separated from each other no matter what (wardens, templars, or death), but I would imagine him becoming a templar in my playthrough kinda puts a huge wedge in things, I don't really see them coming back from that tbh 😅 Though perhaps there is something juicy in the heartbreak/betrayal of it ending in that way. And Warden Carver is a whole other can of worms...

things done in fanfic that annoys me: I have never read a fanfic about them. However, I do not like when any fic infantilizes Merrill or has a non-mage step in to save the day because she "doesn't know what she's doing" or whatever so I would dislike that here too.

things I look for in fanfic: I think I'd only prefer to read fluffy things about them, personally. Especially her worrying over a warden Carver, especially in a canon where one of her clanmates became the HoF so she'd have that personal experience to strengthen her concern for him. Not to mention the general issues with maintaining a relationship while being a warden, etc. I'd love to see them navigate that. I'm sure there's a million fics about that, I just don't read fics often so I'll have to look some other time😅

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I also ship Carver with an unnamed male warden I just mentioned offhand in a fic once and I ship Merrill with Isabela, my m!blood mage Hawke, sometimes with my dalish circle mage/blood mage El'la as a QPP. I also sometimes ship her in an OT3 with Tamlen (who survived) and my dalish warden Savil. I also love her having some sorta deep platonic thing going on with my canon Hawke and Anders post-canon. Same with her and Sebastian being deeply close besties. (Merrill is my favorite DA character so I think about her with everyone, she has such good chemistry with so many people)

My happily ever after for them: I think it might be asking a lot for them to ever have a normal, quiet life but I'd at least like them write to each other frequently and find times to meet whenever they can, even if only just to chat and steal a smooch for a few minutes as he's passing through.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: Carver as the little spoon is funny to me because he is so Large so I am kinda digging it. There is also something cute about the safety and security of being wrapped comfortably in her arms after many months away experiencing The Horrors. Not to mention post-nightmare too. He seems to take the whole Warden thing really well, but I can't imagine it isn't at least somewhat taxing.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Just catching up and sharing funny anecdotes, exchanging gifts perhaps. When they live such different lives that don't allow for much normalcy I could imagine it might be nice just to relax and enjoy each other's company peacefully for a while 💗

#hoo hoo hoo you reignited my feelings about them!!!!!!!! #jun answers

[spainkitty]

WEDNESDAY WIP: DAI AU "For It Is Fleeting"

Premise-

This is completely "noncanon" for me. Lanil Surana never left the Circles or joined the Lavellan Clan. Instead, after the events of Broken Circle, she was transferred to Montsimmard Circle. She's been Fiona's protégé and apprentice ever since. (Vitta) Adaar ends up helping the Templars, and Lanil arrives too late to beg for help. Lanil joins the Inquisition at Adaar's request, and becomes something like a party member and a loud voice for the remaining Rebels. Into the Abyss: MageHawke's Warden contact was her brother, Carver. She forced Adaar to carry Carver through the Rift and leave Hawke behind. Varric gets Lanil, Fenris, and Solas to do the Dalish ritual into the Fade and save Hawke (JusticeAnders joins them later). It barely works and this scene below takes place about a week after the rescue, almost four weeks after the Battle of Adamant Fortress.

"Why did you do it?" Hawke asked quietly.

When Lanil turned to Hawke, her strangely too-blue eyes glittered in the starlight. If it weren't for her rounded ears, Lanil would've mistaken her for an elf. In only a shift and loose breeches, not even a pair of sandals on her feet, Hawke seemed to belong to the nighttime Graves as easily as Lanil did. She waited for Lanil's answer, serious and silent.

"Are you hoping for some altruistic answer?" Lanil asked, eyebrow rising. Something about Lanil's expression made Hawke's face soften, lips curving into a smile.

"I'm actually looking for the truth. I understand you were with the Rebellion at Redcliffe, so I thought, at first, perhaps our connection as fellow mages might be the reason. After I found out you and Anders knew each other in Kinloch Hold, it made more sense, but not entirely. You almost sacrificed your life for me, you used blood magic in the Fade, making yourself a target for every thirsting demon nearby, but you didn't even hesitate. What could compel a Circle-educated mage to break so many rules for a fugitive and relative stranger?" Hawke asked, shaking her head slightly. The wind came through again and Hawke shivered at its touch.

Despite the chill, Lanil leaned into it. Goosebumps crept down her bare arms and legs. Every second she was aware of her flesh, her living pulse and bones, were gifts. She spent too long incorporeal in the Fade.

"Because Anders was... is family." Lanil clenched her fists. "I have lost so much... so many. The Rebellion was about having more, keeping hold of what matters and allowing no one to take it from us. I am so fucking tired, Hawke. So tired of losing family, of losing everything. I wanted, just this once, to claim a win. For mages, for Anders, too, but also for me. If you're Anders' family, that means you're mine, too. Or... you could be." Lanil shrugged awkwardly, one shoulder barely rising and falling.

Hawke's hand, still too thin, too pale for someone tanned a natural golden-hue, fell on Lanil's arm. Squeezed briefly and lightly.

"Yeah, Laney. We're family."

"Ugh, not you, too. It's bad enough Anders calls me that," Lanil groaned, eyes rolling. Ignoring as much as possible the way her nose stung and her eyes prickled.

"Shortie? Is that better?" Hawke asked. When Lanil looked over, her brilliantly blue eyes were shining ever brighter, glistening even. Lanil glanced away again quickly, mouth twisting down and pinching hard.

"Shortie's fine," Lanil all but grunted.

"If you two are done bonding." Both women jerked in surprise as Anders ducked through the tent flap. His hair was in long, messy strands around his face, and his eyes were barely slitted open. "You should be resting, not wearing yourself out standing out here in cold."

"We're not wearing ourselves out standing, dearest," Hawke said too sweetly, in warning. "You forget you're not the only Healer here and we know what we're doing."

"You may both be healers, but you're both too stupid not to throw yourselves onto swords. Or right into a cold," Anders retorted.

"Did you just call me stupid?"

He ignored Hawke's outrage, and Lanil's matching scowl, to place the back of his hand against Hawke's cheek, then her forehead, frowning. "Not feverish yet. Let's not chance it further, sweetheart. You've lost so much weight."

"Worrywart," Hawke sighed. Then, yawned. "I guess I should sleep, though. Lanil?"

Lanil glanced between them. Thankfully, Anders' interruption helped her take back some control. "No, I'll sleep when I feel like it, maybe sometime next year."

Since she'd already had several naps between escaping the Fade and now, it just had Hawke laughing quietly and Anders rolling his eyes. He bent his tall, lanky body almost double to lay a gentle, barely there kiss to Lanil's forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth pinched tight again.

"Don't be a brat, Laney."

She pffted while Anders helped the wobbly-footed Hawke back into the tent. Then, she turned and sunk slowly to the ground. Criss-crossed her legs and leaned back against the tent pole. Above her the stars shined on and she carefully picked out Equinor rearing regally. She had only seen constellations in books, or in the tiny bubble of space of a telescope lens. Never had she been been able to stay out at night to see them with her naked eye.

Her eyes prickled again. She dug her fingernails into the grass and loamy soil beneath her body and ignored the weight on her eyelashes. I won. Just this once, I won, Fiona. I wish you could've been here to see it.

#dai fanfic #dai surana #dao surana #dai Hawke #da2 mage! hawke #f!Hawke #For It Is Feeling AU #kitty write a thing #WIP WEDNESDAY #finally it saved!!! #little Anders cameo~ #Adaar makes them return to Skyhold for a trial #it goes well because Anders 👏 Was 👏 Right 👏

[noire-pandora]

Here I am, once again, trying to show my love to the wonderful people that make our days better with their works. Thank you very much for that. 

As usually, the order in this is random, I love each and every work here. Also, I don’t know the socials of a few people from this list, if you know them, please tell me so i can add it! 

1.One Thing by Gaqalesqua @gaeadene

Rating: General Audiences Category: F/M Relationships: Solas/Female Trevelyan  Additional Tags: Angst| Tumblr|  Prompt| Prompt Fic Status: Completed Summary: Even now, when Solas is threatening everything she loves, Lusia doesn't want to let go. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36528193

2. Fade to Blue by youworeblue @dreadfutures​

Rating: Explicit Category: F/M Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas| Ixchel Lavellan/Solas  Additional Tags: Bathtub Sex| Sex Magic| Edgeplay| bratty| Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot| Vaginal Fingering| Vaginal Sex Status: Complete Summary: “Solas, I’m going to be late for my meetings,” she panted. “Please, keep going.” “Until you beg for me to stop, then,” he agreed, and swallowed her moan of assent with a kiss. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35534809/chapters/88585333

3. Stormheart by InArlathan @in-arlathan​

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: F/M Relationships: Female Adaar/Blackwall  Additional Tags: Fluff| Getting to Know Each Other| There Is Only One Bed| Pining| POV Blackwall| Unresolved Sexual Tension Status: Completed Summary: Adieh Adaar never asked to be the Herald of Andraste but it certainly has its benefits. Especially if that means being stuck with a Grey Warden for the night. Blackwall, on the other hand, is not so sure if he agrees. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36488578

4. Falling Snow and Mistletoe by dharmaserenity

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Categories: F/M M/M Relationships: Anders/Hawke| Cassandra Pentaghast/Varric Tethras| Carver  Hawke/MerrillFenris/Isabela  Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Use Status: Completed Summary: A cafe/coffee house AU with some characters from DA2 and Dragon Age Inquisition !When on a snowy evening, Pounce appears at Cafe Tea'das, he brings a little festive cheer and magic to the lives of those that make this cafe their cozy little workplace/ place of inspiration - and romance ensues! Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36349432/chapters/90622546

5.Recovery by Current_Resident

Rating:Not Rated Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Relationship: Cassandra Pentaghast & Varric Tethras Additional Tags: all talk| No Action Collections: Dragon Age: The Platonic Ideal (2021) Status: Completed Summary: Long after the Inquisition has ended, Varric and Cassandra cross paths once more in Kirkwall. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36778102

6.Winning the endurance game by inquisitor_acorn (acornchild) @inquisitoracorn​

Rating: Explicit Category: M/M Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Tabris| Zevran Arainai/Male Warden Additional Tags: First Time| sexy sparring| Light Dom/Anal Sex| Oral Sex|  Collections: BTV's Satinalia Masquerade 2021 Status :Completed Summary: The two of them had been dancing around each other for a while now. Maybe ever since the beginning, perhaps, all the way back when Zevran had found himself on the wrong end of Adair’s blades. But things were a little different now from what started as a plea for his life, soon turning into something a lot more careful, and a lot more exciting. And who could blame him – after all, what in the world could be more attractive than someone defeating you in combat? And so, Zevran had a plan. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTV_Satinalia_2021/works/35977555

#dragon age #fanfic recommendation #noire's recs #have fun reading those and mind the tags! #thanks for writing

[rezziejoth]

I wish dragon age expanded more on the in universe holidays like there's so much potential for in universe holiday themed missions in any of the games like

First Day

In origins First Day would be celebrated at some point but so much more gloomier than usual like you get to lothering and the atmosphere is closer to "there's no point in checking in maker knows how many are dead" purchaseable chicken based gifts/food on discount

In DA2 First day happens at the start of a new act and gives you the chance to check in with each of your companions and even share a meal with the Hawke family and perhaps get more of a look into their dynamic

First day at Skyhold in inquisition could possibly come with like a item gathering mission with little cutscenes and bits of lore depending on who you bring with you

Wintersend

In origins you'd be able to see the dalish celebrating this holiday in its original form, celebrating Urthemiel and opening up specific dialogue options based on your characters background

Wintersend in DA2 could open up a window for looking in more to how Anders views the chantry watching the celebrations going on inside the chantry from the area outside

Wintersend in inquisition would be be drastically different given the Inquisitors faith but all would result in a scene in the courtyard either talking to solas the scene would also have Solas talk a bit of the holiday's past

Summerday

In origins the wardens would witness redcliff attempting to celebrate summerday despite the constant attacks on the village the atmosphere in the chantry bitter sweet as the wardens are given the chance to be apart of the speech

DA2 Would probably have a passing reference to the holidays varric talking about how big the celebration is in orlais (even if it does sound like total bs-)

Inquisition would take us too Orlais during the celebration to once again touch on the Inquisitors faith and see how they are the celebration as a whole

All Souls Day

All Souls day would be ESPECIALLY impactful in origins the warden and Alistair perhaps breifly returning to lothering across their travels to remember the wardens that were lost and the warden themselves talking about their own personal loss in their backstory

DA2 could have a scene in which Hawke remembers Malcolm and Either or both Bethany and Carver with Leandra commenting on what they would of thought of Kirkwall and the choices Hawke has made so far including LI choice

In Inquisition Dorian would suggest celebrating the holidays the way they do up north and the Inquisitor has the choice to either disagree or accept and result in a mini mission and some cutscenes with Dorian and the other companions

Satinalia

Zevran Making references to the holiday talking about how he was hired to "gift a knife in the back" to someone on the holiday one year

Isabela having MANY tales from Satinalia

Josephine talking about how she misses the holiday now that she's no longer in antiva with the Inquisitor being given the option to implie Making a nug leader for a day

#dragon age #holidays #dragon age origins #da2 #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #hawke #varric tethras #zevran #solas #Isabela #dorian #hero of ferelden

[tabriscadash]

I was asked this on my old blog right as I set about transitioning to this one, so...

The first character I ever fell in love with: for DA:O, dare I say Daveth? What can I say -- I irrationally got incredibly attached to him. otherwise, DEFINITELY Morrigan, and I have crystal clear memories of my first run through Lothering and looking at Morrigan like 😍 the whole time. For DA:2/E, Carver -- unless you count Anders & Justice since I knew of them from Awakening beforehand, in which case probably Justice. For DA:I, it’s a toss-up between Vivienne or Cole -- I technically liked Cole first but SPECIFICALLY in the supporting material (Asunder), and didn’t vibe with him anywhere near as much in the game, AND I got him as a companion after I got Vivienne, so probably Vivienne.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I guess Oghren? I never loved him, but I liked the idea of him because I really liked the dwarves/Orzammar side of DA’s worldbuilding -- but he’s such an unlikeable character that I just.. don’t vibe with him at all. I debate recruiting him every single time now, and I don’t think I ever do his personal quest (in the base game OR Awakening). for DA:2/E, I don’t really have anyone that fits -- but I REALLY wanted to like Merrill and Aveline more than I did, and especially in Aveline’s case, I can’t stand her and genuinely think she’s the unintended, secret Big Bad of the whole game. for DA:I, probably Cole, bc I was really into the idea of a little walking-corpse serial killer animated by a spirit as per the book, but that’s not really the vibe in DA:I, and combined with the somewhat patronising/ableist language and how significantly he is infantilised (including by the fandom) I just got put off him. I do still like him, but not as much.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I don’t really have one? I guess see my DA:I answer, lol... for DA:2/E, has to be Anders - I don’t think he’s OOC in 2, but I think his writing does so little with him and he feels v. reductive. Where his relationship could be SO interesting and angsty, it instead is written in a really dull and/or cringey way. It would have been nice to see Anders more like the Anders of Awakening near the beginning of the game (rather than random, infrequent and questionably rare snippets), and then see the progression of his relationship with Justice as the game went on -- I want more interesting abominations, PLEASE. for DA:I, listen I cannot express to you HOW EXCITED I was for my planned Lavellan to romance Sera… also I used to be way more tolerant of Cullen x Amell/Surana ships because, like, hey dark ships are fun, right? But since Cullen’s ~wholesome whitewash~ in DA:I, and his fandom clamouring to absolve him of any wrongdoing ever.. it’s boring to me.

My ultimate favourite character™: for DA:O, probably Sten? or Morrigan. They’re both fantastic, and also are significant comfort chars for me. for DA:2/3, honestly, probably my own Hawke -- I feel so hugely proud of her, and can’t imagine I’d enjoy the game anywhere near as much had I not played it as my Hawke. If not her, maybe Sebastian or Carver? for DA:I, I really love Vivienne, as well as Blackwall, and Solas is a great character even if I probably would not say I liked him.

Prettiest character: for DA:O, we all know it’s Zevran. for DA:2/E, I think Aveline -- although her aggressively bland colour-scheme lets her down in a major way (although I respect her dedication to all orange all day every day). There’s just something about her arms -- very Abby from TLOU:2. for DA:I, maybe Josephine? Ser Barris is very pretty, too...

My most hated character: for DA:O, I really didn’t like Alistair, Wynne and Oghren, and of my companions - Oghren is probably my least favourite. He’s vulgar and also profoundly uninteresting. for DA:2/E, it has to be Aveline. There’s just something about ineptitude and a complete, wilful refusal to take accountability for your actions that I can’t stand. It would be okay if it was an intentional character flaw, but the game/narrative treats her like she’s lawful good and it really annoys me. for DA:I, maybe Iron Bull? He was a huge disappointment for me. I also really dislike Sera, Cassandra, and Varric. I’m so sick of Varric - I never want to see him again.

My OTP: for DA:O, I really loved Zevran’s romance -- but I am also very amused by the fact that Leliana got to ‘love’ status with Kallian accidentally, AND I got the ‘love’ glitch for Justice (👀) and Velanna. I do sometimes wonder about an AU where Kallian is forced to make a politically expedient marriage with Nathaniel Howe for diplomatic reasons in order to consolidate her position as Arlessa, and it being an entirely platonic arrangement (it’s not like anyone expects an heir from an infertile Grey Warden) -- and maybe Zev and Nate kiss sometimes, who knows? I also LOVE my Darkspawn Chronicles AU where Kallian and Nelaros are a happy, married couple each hiding their skills with weapons from each other like dumb, cute sweethearts. They shelter Zevran when he fails to kill Alistair and a poly couple evolves. for DA:2/E, I love the IDEA of a Seb romance that isn’t so strictly conditional around the structures that abused him -- he should be allowed to love, chastely or otherwise, but free from the Chantry OR his position as prince/heir. I’d LOVE to actually have a romance with him where you can actually challenge the abuse he’s experienced. for DA:I, Malika doesn’t have a canon romance (although I think when I replay, I’m going to romance Josephine!) but I think Blackwall has an amazing romance. Solas’ is also iconic, it must be said. 

My NOTP: for DA:O, I really dislike Alistair in a shipping capacity; he’s immature and says a lot of misogynistic shit and I don’t think he’s the worst for it, but I don’t really vibe with shipping him, having played the game as a female city elf. for DA:2/E, I wouldn’t say I have one, particularly? although I really dislike Aveline’s relationship with her husband simply because it seems incredibly inappropriate, given that they work together and she has power over him -- and because I dislike her, generally, I don’t feel inclined to do something nice for her. for DA:I, I suppose Sera/Lavellan -- although I’m not AGAINST it, it just really isn’t for me, having attempted it. I also don’t really vibe with Dorian x Iron Bull. Something abt the way the game handled BDSM and their relationship banter specifically I don’t really like.

Favourite episode quest: for DA:O, probs Orzammar/the Deep Roads. I really love the dwarven lore! and, of course, Fort Drakon is really funny, even though it’s not canon in my game iirc. for DA:2/E, maybe the murder mystery with the serial killer, where ultimately Leandra dies? I also really enjoyed all the companion quests. for DA:I, The Descent (just, all of it, lmao) and everything to do with the Avvar. Crestwood also BANGED.

Saddest death: for DA:O, it’s frankly a fucking INJUSTICE that Shianni gets murdered if you make her Bann of the Alienage -- the idea of that happening whilst Kallian is in Amaranthine and unable to protect her :( genuinely very upsetting. I go back and forth on who is made Bann, tbf, so idk how canonical it is: I think maybe Cyrion would get it, but I’m also endeared to Soris holding the position, with Shianni as Hahren. for DA:2/E, Bethany. I wish both twins had had the chance to reach Kirkwall :(. Let Leandra die instead. for DA:I, maybe not the saddest death, but the most memorable for me was that one sleeping dragon in the Hissing Wastes.. leave her alone. Stay out of a womans’ business.

Favourite season game: DA:O!

Least favourite season game: DA:I.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: for DA:O, Alistair. I cannot deal with his complacency and hypocrisy. for DA:2, I really disliked Merrill but I honestly cannot remember why. DEFINITELY Varric -- I hated how the game forces you to be his best friend, and if you’re low approval, you have to endure these pointless pissy little comments with this little anti-dwarf centrist pissant. After the expedition, I literally have no reason to put up with him, and I NEVER take him out. I hate that he plays the same role in DA:I, too. for DA:I, the Iron Bull was hugely disappointing, and I also really don’t vibe with Cassandra. She just seems very wishy-washy and complacent and hypocritical, and many of her comments about other cultures seem snide for literally no reason other than bigotry. 

My ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: for DA:O, lbr probably Sten. Mans is gonna launch a HORRIFYING invasion in the next game iirc and frankly, I’m ok with it. Just wanna see that big bastard again ❤🥵. for DA:2/E, I LOVE Gamlen, ok? for DA:I, I am not sure if I have one.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: for DA:O, if any of you so much as LOOK at Velanna wrong, it’s hands. That includes Bioware. I also feel incredibly protective of and sad for Morrigan. for DA:2/E, probably Sebastian -- I feel so sad for him, and so frustrated by the limitations with the game. for DA:I, I’m honestly not sure.. maybe Josephine? I don’t really feel this way about Sera, but I do think she deserves better from the game and its writing, and also from fandom: there are valid criticisms of her, but the hate she gets is not proportional to any valid issues with her -- and gee, I wonder why that is.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: for DA:O, I did use to find Cullen x Surana/Amell intriguing as a dark ship -- I actually hc that Neria Surana is actually Nelaros’ sister, and have dabbled with it as a dark ship. I also am interested in Loghain/Alistair - which each pretends the other is someone else. Alistair is wooby, hate ships are, in general, fun -- so long as we acknowledge that they are, indeed, unhealthy ships. for DA:2/E, I kind of feel like Sebastian romances are, invariably, kind of dark... and, similarly, Anders romances -- especially with certain red Hawkes, The way it ends is, invariably, bordering on fucked up. ALSO Hawkecest is weird and wonderful: GET WITH IT. 

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: for DA:O, I joked about Velanna x Leliana once and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it ever since… Velanna x Sigrun is also something that can be so personal. Ariane x Finn is adorable and are paid DUST by Bioware AND fandom. I actually am really into Anora x Nathaniel & NO I will NOT explain myself; it’s a crackship but it’s MY crackship. for DA:2/E, Isabela x Fenris is super cute, but I don’t pay enough attention to them to really have super committed thoughts & feelings on them. for DA:I, Blackwall x Josephine is cute as a background ship; I also think Maryden x Cole is sweet.

#meta #mun

[emerald-amidst-gold]

Ohh maybe 1, 2, 3, and 28? 👀

*takes a sip from my can of soda* Ahhh~! Caffeine for the soul~ >:3

But you know what's better for the soul? Questions! Curiosity! RAMBLING ABOUT CHILDREN! >:D Let's GOOOO!

1. What would your Warden generally think of your Hawke and your inquisitor?

Rylen: 

Now, I kind of see Elise eventually meeting or at least, reaching out to Rylen after the events in Kirkwall. After all, she’s an Amell, and so is Hawke. They’re literally the only family each other has (that’s not ‘found’ family, that is.). So, I think Elise would reach out through a letter or somehow manage a visit to her cousin and...connect. She would see him as inspiring; Rylen always manages a smile and a quip. However, if they were to spend more and more time interacting with each other, Elise would see that Hawke isn’t very well put together, especially after the Chantry explosion. She would question why Rylen chose the templars, why he executed Anders who was a like a brother to her, but eventually she would come to understand the whys. Elise would see it as no different as when she decided to spare Loghain at the Landsmeet; they did what they believed to be right and what would be best in that very moment. Both Rylen and Elise sacrificed their own happiness for the benefit of others, and were still blamed for future complications and there’s something comforting in a finding another who can relate. :3

Fane:

So, I actually have some later fic ideas for a confrontation between Elise and Fane (after Trespasser, kind of Pre-DA4 shenanas~), and suffice it to say, these two have similar ways of thinking, but their methods are entirely different. Fane is rash, prone to barreling head first into conflict without thinking about those around him. Elise is analytical, always assessing and placing the pieces in her head to make sure everyone comes out alive. This isn’t to say Fane doesn’t care about his comrades; he does. There’s countless, countless times he takes a blow for someone else without batting an eye or thinking that he could die. He just doesn’t plan; he acts. Fane can get lost in the moment of battle, in the heady scent of chaos and blood. Elise, at first meeting him, would see him as any typical warrior; eager for battle and a garden of death. But if they were to sit down and talk...I think she might find him endearing and fascinating. More or less she would think, ‘He’s so mature for someone so young. I mean, he’s twenty-four, but...he speaks as if he’s older. His speech is manicured, measured as if decided upon carefully. And his eyes...there’s pain, a deep, deep pain. Like some of the older Wardens, those just hearing the Calling. But also...hope? Conviction? Who are you, Inquisitor? What has the world done to you?’

2. What would your Hawke generally think of your warden and your Inquisitor?

Elise:

Rylen would probably have the same opinion of Elise as she does with him. They’re family, split apart due the misconceptions and fear, and my Hawke cherishes family. He lost everyone else he could rightly consider family. Fenris, Varric, Sebastian, Isabela, and Merrill are the only people he can call family now. (Anders and Aveline are complicated. I won’t go into that can of worms. For now~ >:3) He would definitely feel a level of guilt for what he had to do in Kirkwall with Anders, with the mages, with...everything, but Rylen just tries to make it through another day. If he and Elise started to interact I think it would be extremely beneficial to Rylen. Elise is patient, sometimes stern, and not afraid to lay all the facts out. Rylen would admire that since he’s had to go through life wearing a mask, a smile, a facade just to placate someone else. He would see Elise as another sister and his opinion of her would probably be along the lines of, ‘I won’t let another member of my family be torn from me. Father, Bethany, Carver...Mother.. I failed them. I won’t fail her. I won’t fail her. She’s bright and she keeps her head held high. Heh, now I see how she killed an Archdemon and lived to tell the tale. ...Bet the lightning has something to do with that, too.’

Fane: 

Rylen and Fane, in my head, actually hit it off from the get go. They’ve both had to take mantles of power, even though they never, never wanted to. Though, for different reasons, of course. But Rylen would find Fane inspiring and wholly capable of doing what must be done. He’d be kind of put off that most of his well thought out jokes and pokes would fall flat on Fane, but eventually, Rylen would see why that is. (Draconic nature withstanding.) Also, once my Hawke found out Fane is dragon?  OHHHH, BUDDY. There would be yelling and screeching and cries of, ‘WHY DO I KEEP MEETING DRAGONS, FENRIS?! FIRST THE WITCH, NOW THE INQUISITOR?! ..I’m done. I’m putting my daggers down and stealing away into the mountains. Varric, you wanna come with? I know you’re fed up with this shit, too! Don’t lie! DON’T. LIE.’

3. What would your Inquisitor generally think of your warden and your Hawke?

Elise:

Fane would probably think of Elise as...interesting. Not in a bad way. Just...interesting. Fane isn’t comfortable with Wardens after Adamant. He learns that he can hear the corruption inside of them and that terrifies him. And confuses him. And makes him go, ‘What the fuck am I? I don’t even know anymore. Why do I try?’ But, if he were to get over that and, like I said with Elise, talk? He would have another perspective of the men and women that had let fear take them by the throat. It wouldn’t change his feelings regarding the Wardens entirely, but one level mind, one open mind, is enough to make Fane tap into his nature and consider other sides of a very, very large cube.

‘She’s more...quiet than the others. Maybe because it’s just her? No...Loghain was still loud as fuck when it was just him, so why? Ugh, I’m so sick of these puzzles. At least she’s more stable, but I can see the pain in her eyes; green like mine, but missing the gold. Maybe the Taint is stronger than she thinks? Perhaps, but still she fights, still she claws her way towards something that may be impossible. ...Hmph. How typical. A similarity. This world continues to confound.’

Rylen:

Fane respects Rylen after spending some time to feel him out, know his cues, and piece together which is his actual face. Once that happens, Fane can move into respect with my Hawke. These two have a fairly similar moral compass; pragmatism regarding most decisions. Again, they both have been thrust into a position without asking for it, so that would be a stepping stone upon the bonding path. All in all, Fane’s general opinion of Rylen would be, ‘He’s worn that mask of smiles and bright, grey eyes for too long. It’s cracking at the edges, wearing down to mere mortar. Then again, I have my own mask. I’m in no position to judge and condemn, but...it’s worrying. Even the strongest wings can be torn and all that greets is the earth below. I hope your wings don’t falter, Champion. It would be disappointing for the world to lose someone who cares when those who should are content to point the finger towards anyone but themselves.’

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

Fane: The Emprise du Lion! Snowwwww! Coooold! Ice dragooooon! >:3 ...minus the red lyrium. *snorts* 

Origins: Hmm, I think Fane would like the Brecilian Forest. He enjoys forests as much as he enjoys the cold, the ice, and the snow. He likes the animals, even though he tries not to interfere with them, and he likes the quiet. No chattering, no demands. Only trees, leaves, and the occasional whistle of wind. Also, Fane likes to investigate ancient ruins. He’s not interested in the history, really. He just wants to see if he can find any remnants about his kin that the elves may have left behind. :3

DA2: Probably Sundermount since again, wilderness. Fane doesn’t do too well in crowded areas and Kirkwall would make his heart rate sky rocket. Not just because of the people, but because of the size. Those cramped streets of Lowtown would just make him...eugh. *shivers*

Elise: She adores Orzammar! Especially the Shaperate! The dwarves fascinate Elise since not many tomes in the Circle went into depth about them! :D And if we want to with Awakening areas, I would saaaay...Amaranthine. She’s always like towns and cities due to not being able to experience them until the Blight! :3

Inquisition: Elise would adore the Frostback Basin. Like, really enjoy it! All that flora and Avaar culture and wilderness? MMMM!

DA2: Definitely the Wounded Coast. Hands down. My daughter enjoys the sea so much. The salt in the air, the feel of sand, and the pretty, pretty shells and rolling waves? Every Circle mages’ wet dream. *waggles eyebrows*

Rylen: So, if we’re not talking like open world areas in the game, I would definitely say Rylen’s favorite place is the Hanged Man. The man needs a drink to deal with Kirkwall. Just saying. It’s also where he can just...be himself with the people who know him. 

Inquisition: Hinterlands. He’s a FERELDAN. He wants his MABARI to RUN in native land! He wants to...go home. ;3;

Origins: I like to think the Hawke family went all over Ferelden before settling in Lothering. I mean, they kind of do, but maybe for more than a few months at a time? So, Rylen would enjoy Denerim. He likes to go where people are, where life is. He likes crowds because he can blend into them and not be tracked down until he wants to be tracked down. ...My Hawke just wants to live in peace with his glowy elf husband and run a mabari ranch. Is that too much to ask, Bioware?! Let Hawke REST!

Woo! That was FUN! It really got me thinking, too! X3 Thank you so much, friend! <3

#ask #asks #dragon age #oc: fane lavellan #oc: elise amell #oc: rylen hawke #all my children need therapy *sighs* #i think rylen needs it more than fane #now THAT'S saying something #*snorts loudly* #...i wasn't kidding about the mabari ranch #rylen wants a FLEET of mabari #he just loves them so much #SO MUCH #elise is kind of a scrapbooker too! #she collects things and preserves them! X3 #...and fane likes to roll around in the snow like a polar bear #blank faced too XD #boy needs to CHILL #...in two ways >:3 #thank you again! <3

[jawsandbones]

All is Well

[Read on AO3]

Light plays at dancing through the trees, and shadows a pattern over them. Her reaching fingertips brush up against the branches and leaves which curl downwards into their path. She plucks one as she passes, turning it between her fingers – a dizzying spin of greens, yellows and reds. Merrill and Isabela catch her attention and so she lets it go. It floats away from her, landing the step behind him. She’s turning to listen to what Merrill is telling her as they walk, and he watches the edge of her smile. The warm glow of the setting sun haloes around Hawke’s profile. It sets fire to all it touches, from the stray strands of her hair in the breeze, to what seeps through her fingers as she talks, landing on him. Fenris knows he must tell her soon.

It’s dark by the time their tired feet find the familiar cobble of Kirkwall’s streets. Hawke hugs Merrill goodnight while he turns his head towards the sky, counts stars through the smoke of the torch. Isabela’s goodbye is a merry wave, the unexpected pat of Hawke’s ass. Hawke and Fenris look at each other as the door to the Hanged Man swings shut, and after a moment begin to laugh together. They fall naturally in step beside each other. Step by steady step up the stairs of Lowtown, listening to the distant sounds of conversation and laughter, as they head towards Hightown.

Merrill tends to walk with her gaze cast towards the ground, charting steps. While Anders closely studies other people’s faces, Isabela makes a map of the rest of their body, their pockets. Aveline is always on guard, on duty, even when she says she isn’t, eyes darting around to everything that could be amiss. He’s noticed more than once Sebastian’s head tilting upwards, his eyes closed, guided by the sounds of them around him. Varric only ever spares attention for his friends, his walking usually accompanied by engaging conversation. Too often Fenris’ gaze was fixed behind, ever glancing over his own shoulder. He looks forward more now, in the same way Hawke always has.

The Chantry looms into sight, and underneath its glare, the dueling hawks above the door of her estate. Careful as he reaches out, his fingertips touching against hers, bringing her to a halt. Surprised, perhaps, but she doesn’t pull her hand away from his. “I was wondering if I could speak with you,” Fenris says. Hawke’s shoulders ease, the smile spreads.  

“Yours or mine?”

She’s haphazardly pulling at straps and buckles, trying to undo the familiar armor which marks Hawke as Champion. She sighs relief when she finally sits down, free of armor and weapons, and rolls her head forward as she works out the ache in her neck, her back. It’s with an absentminded flick of her fingers that she lights the fireplace, stretches her feet out in front of it with a grateful groan, her boots flopped over beside her. He takes the seat across from her once he has put his own armor away, and watches as Marian runs a hand through her hair. It’s the longest it’s been in years, as she’s been given no reason to cut it back yet. There’s always a reason, she had told him after Carver, Leandra, the Arishok… he doesn’t want to be the reason for it, again.  

His mantle is covered in things, now. A ship in a bottle from Isabela, wolf figures from Merrill. Even Carver has sent him things from his time spent travelling with the Wardens. Of course, they leave their marks in other places – one glance at all the things Isabela has carved into his stair rail is proof of that. Sebastian has filled his closet with clothes not particularly suiting his taste, but nonetheless appreciated. Varric has generously donated to his library, stacked his shelves. It’s not without a trace of Anders and his skill, Aveline and her frequent attempts to implore him to move. There are cups underneath the holes in his roof, and the dust, cobwebs, have been banished. Fenris wouldn’t quite call it home, but it is more than it used to be.

“What did you want to talk about?” Marian’s voice pulls him from his own examination of his place, and he sits up a little straighter in his chair.

“I have been thinking more, on what happened with Danarius,” he says. She shifts forward slightly, crosses her arms, perches her elbows on her knees as she listens. “It has finally begun to feel real, that he is dead. I thought that once I had come to this point… his death would solve everything for me. I would no longer need to run and fight to stay alive, and I would be able to truly live as a free man. Yet,” his hands clench into fists over his knees. “I am not sure how to – do that. Danarius’s life gave me purpose, direction. His death gives me nothing.”

“Doesn’t it?” She gives him a brief smile, opens her hands to him, palms out. “Now there’s nothing to hold you back. A terrible sort of gift, isn’t it? One with so many choices.”

“Perhaps it is time to move forward. I just don’t know where that leads.” His hands squeeze a little tighter. “Do you?”

“Wherever it leads, I hope it means we’ll still be able to have days like this.” She leans back, palms flat down beside her, palms curling around the edge of the bench. “The ones we spend together,” she says, as the fire casts warm light across her.

“That is my hope as well,” Fenris tells her, and her breath catches in her throat as she watches the fond smile spreads easy and true across his face. She also watches it lose its confidence, falter, as his gaze turns down from hers. “We have never discussed what happened between us three years ago.”

“No,” Marian says softly, “we haven’t.” Her fingers tangle together, pull at each other.

“I felt like a fool,” he says as he leans forward as well, before, “I thought it better if you hated me.” He pushes himself up from the chair, paces the empty space across the room, back and forth, in front of the fireplace. Finally, he comes to a slow stop near the bench. “I deserved no less.”

“I understood why you left that night Fenris,” she says. “I won’t deny that it hurt. I wish it was done in a better way. But I understood. I’ve always understood.”

“If I could go back, I would stay.”

“I know, but I’m glad you didn’t.” He blinks, taken aback. She continues quickly. “I don’t think we were the right people for each other, then. Not yet. Too many things holding us back.”

“And now we have so many choices.”

“A terrible gift, just like I told you,” she says as she looks up at him. Their shared laughter is low, but oh, it’s a relief. Fenris takes a hesitant step forward, pauses in the unending agony of organizing thought, of finding the right words.

“Even so, I… I still wish I had made the choice to tell you how I felt.”

“What would you have said?” She could sit forever in this moment. Gossamer green settling, butterfly wings of lashes falling across his color as he smiles, breathless as he looks at her, steps closer.

“Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

“Fenris –”

“I should have asked your forgiveness long ago. I hope you can forgive me now.” She stands up slowly, closes what little distance is left between them. Touch, against his wrist, her token. Then her arms wrap around his waist, hands moving up his back. He’s slow to settle in his own allowance of such a thing, but he does. He does, so much, so needy, greedy, wanted and wanting in equal measure. Her fingers stitch at the back of his shoulder, wind into his tunic. A hand settles at the nape of her neck, his other arm pulling her closer against him. A hiccup of watery laughter, and she buries the smile she can’t be rid of against his shoulder. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side,” he murmurs low, his lips against the shell of her ear, as he hugs her harder, holds her tighter.

---

He wakes later with a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping open. He has a foot on the floor, leg off the narrow bed. One of his arms is asleep, trapped underneath her. Fenris is still thoroughly tangled in her, the embrace of her wings. She’s half draped over him, arms curled around him. He doubts he could free his leg from how tightly hers hug it. Starlight flickers through the cracks between the boards, cast a glow in place of still warm embers. Marian’s head is tucked into the crook of his neck, and he rests his cheek against her forehead. It’s enough. The slightest shift, and her hand moves up to brush against his face.

“Fen,” a low and hoarse murmur as her finger moves slow back and forth against his cheek, “bad dream?” Tired eyes open, stars reflected in her lyrium blue. Her affectionate touch remains steady. “Memories?”

“Memories.” She begins to move but, “good ones,” he reassures her quietly, kisses her gently, his hand warm at her back, unwilling to let her go. “Of you. Us.”

#fenris #hawke #fenhawke #dragon age #fenris x hawke #fenris x f!hawke #f!fenhawke #f!hawris #f!hawke #fenris x femhawke #dragon age 2 #da2 #writing #mine

[jellydishes]

I wonder how Bethany would handle being Champion of Kirkwall instead of Hawke? I'd love to see that idea in a fan fic but I don't know if there is one.

I don't know, either! I would assume there is, because it's actually a thought I've had A Lot, even if it's not a fic I've actually gone out of my way to write. However, have some thoughts! Or many! SO MANY.

•Bethany naturally feels guilty for the loss of her sibling, partially because she places a lot of responsibility upon herself for things that she really has no control over in an attempt to compensate for that very thing. If it's Hawke, she'd be very shaken by the loss of the last real protector figure she had left, and realize just how much Hawke did to shelter all of them and that these were burdens she would now have to accept and handle - with Carver's help, which she is is very grateful for, and leans on him for comfort a lot, even though they would probably bicker more than usual due to stress.

However, if Carver was the sibling that died, Bethany is as usual devastated. She'd taken his presence by her side or slightly in front of her as something she could rely on without thinking about it. He was her twin, one half of her whole, and with this loss she's left floundering for a long time to really find who she is without having him there as a reminder, to compare and contrast and to compliment each other's positives and negatives

•Combined with Leandra's moment of lashing out, she would start to hold back even more from showing negative emotions than she usually does. I've gone into this before in various ways, but Bethany has this tendency towards bottling up these negative emotions out of that same sense of responsibility and guilt that has been dogging her since her magic emerged. She feels intense guilt for the constant instability and danger in her family's lives, which would only grow after the death of her sibling

•The prologue proceeds as usual, with Bethany meeting the companions alongside Hawke/Carver. It's been demonstrated in game and in the World of Thedas books that Bethany was very isolated growing up, which could very well mean that this would be the first time since she was a very young child that she's had anything resembling a social circle. If it's Hawke that survives, she withdraws somewhat behind them with some measure of relief, unless someone pays particular attention to her in one way or another such as when fenris remarks upon her magic and Bethany snaps back at him.

If it's Carver that survives, she shows a bit more of that confidence she does in fact have but doesn't always have the opportunity to show. With him at her side, she feels more sure of who she is. Between that and a sense of newfound responsibility, she takes more risks, small and large- the latter leads to more fights with Carver due to his concern. The twins can feel this distance between themselves growing larger and harder to navigate, and Hate It but have no idea how to stop it, so it just continues, despite -or because of- this

•Bethany accompanies her sibling to the Deep Roads (Hawke, because she was brought along because of her own insistence, and Carver because she needed his reassuring presence and the knowledge of his skills), where they fall prey to the taint. For the sake of argument, let's say Anders has also been brought along, and that Hawke/Carver are sent to the wardens. The foundations of Bethany's world are once again shaken, and that deep weight of responsibility only grows heavier. Stricken with grief for someone who is still alive, Bethany stumbled out of the Deep Roads and back into a city she isn't fully prepared to know how to deal with

•If Hawke had initially survived, Bethany would absolutely flounder initially among the companions, who she had assumed to be more Hawke's friends than her own. Either way, she finds comfort and a sense of belonging among them that she hadn't expected to ever have. She outright tells each of them this at some point during the time skip

•Whether Bethany and the companions clash on various topics also depends on Malcolm Hawke to be honest, such as his attitudes on blood magic. Let us say though, that he believed as he does in game by default, which is that blood magic is a matter of last resort and to be avoided at all costs until that point is reached. (However, these exact thoughts aren't known until the events of Legacy.) That said, Bethany would be uncertain of how exactly to handle Merrill's use of blood magic and the mirror at first, but successive talks with her lead to a shaky understanding. That said, Merrill is much more confident in her place as a mage, and that could only help Bethany in the long run

•With Anders, Bethany finds more common ground and even a sense of purpose she'd still been missing, if she helps him in the clinic. She largely agrees with him about mage freedom, but is at a loss for how to handle some of his thoughts. She'd never really met mages aside from her own family members before. That uncertainty, however, is met by Anders' willingness to discuss his own thoughts, and as Bethany remarks in the prologue, he reminds her of Malcolm Hawke in more than a few ways, which I choose to interpret as mage freedom sympathies that Anders would help to nurture in Bethany

•With Varric, she finds more of that stability she's been missing. He always seems to be one step ahead of everyone else, and she would confide more in him than she might the others for this reason, among others. The fact that he would persist in calling her Sunshine where others in the city would call her Hawke would be another source of comfort in the coming days

•I won't go into every companion just now, but I WILL say that she does in fact disagree with Fenris about the danger of mages as she is shown to in game. I would say that after the Deep Roads, she might be a bit sharper at first than she was initially, but they would soon settle back into an easy friendship that is occasionally marked by these disagreements

•Okay I lied, because you know, you KNOW that Isabela would take it upon herself to help show Bethany some of the lighter parts of the city, and in so doing reassure Bethany that she is in fact her friend too, not just her sibling's. Bethany is somewhat fascinated by her approach to life, and yes, Isabela nudged her bisexual awakening along with those comments on men and women

It's the second act! Qunari tensions! Sister Petrice doing how she do!

•Bethany is Absolutely staggered by living in the estate snd having the security of large amounts of money, especially when combined with the guilt of having sssentialky traded it for her sibling

•Bethany does her best to put out small fires along the way, but as it is in the main game, is utterly unable to stop the uprising and the showdown with the Arishok. Isabela returns, but even that does not stop the fight to the death that ensues. As with Hawke, I am going to assume she barely survives this, and is shocked to discover later that she's been named Champion of Kirkwall

•The city knows her as Hawke, which she would at times feel guilty for and darkly amused. That she has recognition of her own only when she stands almost entirely alone of her family. She has this weight of increased responsibility on her shoulders all over again, that she has to not only live up to her own expectations, but that of an entire city. I'd say she manages to live up to it, but privately admits to the companions that she feels that she never has or will

Finally, we get to the chantry explosion. Everything has been leading up to this moment in time. Bethany of course chooses to side with the mages, and is staring down Anders with the ashes of Meredith Stannard drifting around her feet

She lets him live. Helps push him to his feet, hands clasped together as friends and as fellow warriors in this moment, bonded by grief and responsibility and necessity. Whether she goes with him depends on who you personally would think she would have romanced. I have no own opinions, but what I will say is that she becomes a large name for the mage rebellion during and after this time

#bethany hawke #champion bethany hawke #dragon age #dragon age meta

[lexigraph]

oh my god I found a draft of a Hawke/Varric thing I was working on (YES I have a pattern!! Maybe developers should stop making characters mine have extreme sexual tension and compatibility with ok.)

I don’t know if it will ever get any further than this, but the notes made me laugh and sad. Dumping it all after the cut.  Please note that YES I literally stopped writing mid-sentence six years ago and never continued. Why??

It all started when we returned from the Deep Roads.

Actually, that’s not exactly true. It started about half a year before then, or else the last time I’d seen Bianca. Nevermind that. This isn’t the story I never tell, it’s just one that I don’t.

In any case, after the Deep Roads is as good a time as any to start. If you want the real beginning, it’s in the book. The Champion of Kirkwall. Sure, there may be some missing lines, a few redacted conversations, but the foundation is there. Go ahead and read the first act, I’ll wait. If you haven’t read it by now, though… let’s just say you’re in the minority. After all, it is my best selling story.

After the Deep Roads, Hawke and I had a lot of reasons to spend time together. After all, there was business to conduct: treasure that needed the right buyers at the right price, hirelings to question about their involvement with the whole “abandonment thing”, letters to write to various and sundry members of the Guild, maps to update with an ancient thaig, for Andraste’s sake. 

There was also a lot of drinking to be done, or maybe it was just that a lot of drinking was done. It took the edge off of things… washed down any manner of dark thoughts. Or so we’d claim. The company helped, regardless. Hawke and her little band of misfits, myself included… we ruled the Hanged Man in those days.

After a while, well… things got a little more complicated and reasons turned to excuses.

---

Hawke drops herself into a chair at Varric’s long table with a considerable thunk of metal on wood; something ridiculous and heavy made of iron that she’s taken to wearing as ornamentation impacting less than delicately with his fine dwarven chairs. Varric sets the quill he’s been using in its holder, leaves the paper to dry. It’s just a bit about their encounter with the darkspawn. For his records; nothing serious, but he finds himself writing it as prose out of habit. It can wait.

He studies Hawke for a second. The rings under her eyes are especially bad today, the purple tinge of long nights visible even under the gold powder smeared across her eyelids and the smudged black of whatever substance she darkens her eyelashes with. She almost always looks like she slept in yesterday’s eye makeup, but lately each day has been progressively worse, and today is no exception. He swallows and tries to keep his tone light.

“No word?” Varric knows the answer, will probably know word is coming before Hawke does, but asks anyway. It isn’t entirely impossible that a messenger from the Wardens would slip past the notice of his carefully placed network of spies. Highly improbable, but not impossible.

She shakes her head and sighs, leaning forward to place both elbows against the edge of the table and duck her head as if to study the exquisitely carved wood. Not that the elbows bothered him; this table had, after all, seen a lot worse in it’s day, and Varric wasn’t exactly Mr. Manners. Hawke wasn’t normally an elbows on the table kind of gal, was all. Leaning back until she practically slid off the chair, sure. But hunched was bad. She’d been hunched a lot lately.

“Nothing at all. It’s been weeks, Varric. I just--”

“--want to know that your brother is alive. ‘The little snotrag’.” He finishes for her, managing (pretty badly) to keep back a chuckle. Hawke narrows her eyes but smiles, albeit a wan one.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re sick of hearing it.”

“Of course not.” He leans back in his chair, tipping so far that it’s balancing on two legs. “Though you could stand to get a little more creative with the insults. Carver was a little shit.” Shit. Hawke’s face falls again, fast, on ‘was’. Varric leans forward again so all four legs of his chair hit the ground, then pushes back and stands.

“Come on. I’ve got something for us to do.” That, at least, elicits a stronger smile. He’ll have to think of something good, and fast.

He mulls this over as Hawke waits for him to pull on his jacket and gloves, to strap Bianca on. He feels her eyes on him, and slows down just a little bit, making a show of adjusting the way his gloves lay and fiddling with his earrings. Varric is retying the sash around his middle (again) when he spies Hawke’s mouth pressing into a thin line. Time to stop dragging his heels.

“Alright, Hawke, let’s go.”

“If you’re sure you’re presentable, Tethras,” she rolls her eyes as she stands, but the smile has returned.

“Well excuse me. Some of us have a reputation to uphold. Actually, Hawke--” he gestures towards the door to his miniature suite, beckoning her through “--that’s going to include you very soon. You know how they are in High Town, after all.” His tone is light as a feather, threatening a chuckle.

Hawke shrugs her way out of the room, and he follows, then turns to pull the door shut. Not that locking it means a hell of a lot -- everyone basically already knows not to bother Varric’s things. It still makes him feel better.

“It might. If my share is what you said, I should be able to get the mansion.” A small throaty laugh escapes her. Varric fumbles with the key a moment, then shakes his head:

“And then some. Don’t worry, it’s not too difficult to line up buyers for ancient dwarven chamberpots.”

She laughs again as he turns around to find she’s still facing him. “I may just keep one. I’ll think of Bartrand every time I sh--” The expletive is drowned by the laughter that bursts out from deep in Varric’s body. Maker, it feels good to laugh like that.

“Alright, alright, I get the picture, you don’t have to get gross. Let’s go already.” He gestures again, toward the stairs. Hawke’s mouth twitches in a mischievous smile, but she turns on her heel and  That’s where I stopped?? And then, a rare thing, an OUTLINE:

--- Months before learning Carver survived ---

Scene one: Two weeks after returning from the Deep Roads. Hawke and Varric go to the Black Emporium (pretend it is first time) to try and sell off some of the rarer goods. Run into Anders on the way, drag him along (hint at annoyance, very light).

Something something plot hook idek. Bandits? Someone sniffing about the manor trying to buy it first? Figger it out.

Small amount of time skip, nighttime scene, everyone loves fucking Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man scenes lets do this. Flirting, but table-wide. Some stupid observation from Varric about attention from Hawke being great or whatever blah blah blah. Maybe like a shoulder touch ho ho ho gettin’ racy. But point is Hawke is manic, flirtatious and drowning her anxiety, pretending to be happy about a good sale, whatever.

Hawke like blind drunk, Isabela already took someone to her room, everyone else has wandered off, SUPER PLANTONIC FLUFFY tucking her into his bed and setting up to a sleepness night writing just make sure it hurts a little how much Varric is taking care of her.

Morning afterwards maybe a fight OH NO about Carver?? oh no, Marie feeling stupid and hungover and sad and Varric sticking his foot in his mouth for once trying to be reassuring. You tits.

Break for action about whatever DUMB PLOT is happening, gives a chance for building tension because they’re being weird ha ha TIME TO BE WEIRD. Other people. Resist using Isabela to deliver tired lines about how they should shut up and kiss. Resist it. But whatever whole point is tension. Do not break the tension. Laughter must be strained.

Who loves shirty Hawke? Everyone. Anyway moving things along lets have enough time pass now for Carver to be Survive! Hooray? And so real celebration, everyone knows good news is an even better excuse to drink than avoiding problems.

Speaking of avoiding problems maybe like now is when Marie is still being shirty and Varric is like also shirty and so they have a “private” conversation at the bar (Varric, getting his own drinks? Must be serious) and now, now we’ll put cracks in that tension eggshell, there’s a baby bird inside ok it needs to breathe.

Varric is a grownup and Hawke is pretending. Let’s make more touching happen and confusion. 

???

#dragon age #varric tethras #Marie Hawke #female Hawke #Varric x Hawke #ls posts

[kauriart]

Sunshine in the Dark Chapter 5: Slake

A NSFW Dragon Age fic  |  Alistair x Bethany  | Read it on AO3

The Wardens bed down for the night in twos and threes. Almost no one is left alone, and those who are, prefer their own company.

Alistair sets up their bedrolls as he has every night, a little apart from the others, and a little apart from each other. Then he stands over the bedding a moment, expression thoughtful before kneeling and sliding the rumpled quilts closer together, until the ends overlap and it’s one big space for the pair of them. He gives her a wide, sheepish sort of grin that makes her heart flip several times over.

They clamber in together, dressed and damp, into the little space they've built for themselves, and Bethany leans in towards Alistair, and he curls himself around her, pillowing his head against her breasts.

His hair is still damp at the back of his head, and she cards her fingers through the short spikes with a sigh, trying to remember when she’s been happier. It’s almost absurd. Here, down in the dark, hungry and cold and blurry with exhaustion; she is happy.

“And I don’t even know your last name,” she whispers almost to herself.

Alistair runs a hand over his face, barely visible in the darkness. “Technically I don’t have one,” he says after a long moment. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. You give up who you were when you join the Wardens.”

Bethany closes her eyes. What she gave up was everything. Her mother. Her brother. Even Gamlen with all his faults and flaws was family, and he'd taken them in when they had nothing.

And yet—

her heart gives a happy bump bump

—she found Alistair.

She found love.

Extraordinary.

“I almost didn't go with my brother, you know,” she says quietly. “Garrett… he wanted Aveline. He already had a mage in Anders, but no warriors.”

Alistair reaches over silently and takes her hand, holding it between his palms, thumbs stroking against her knuckles. It feels good enough that Bethany’s breath catches a little.

Just a little.

“I asked to go with him," she continues. "I was a brat about it actually. I thought… Carver would have been with him, if he could.” Her voice breaks a little on her twin’s name, but she pretends it doesn’t.

“He shouldn’t have let you go,” Alistair croaks. “He shouldn’t — Maker Beth, the Order is meant for people who have nothing else left. It shouldn’t. You had — have a family. People — a mother and brother who love you. It just isn’t — you shouldn’t have to give them up. You shouldn’t have to give anything up. You should have all the things people are supposed to have, Beth. Every one of them.”

He is so absolutely indignant that Bethany smiles. “What are people supposed to have?”

“A home,” he says promptly, “with a roof and windows, and a lock on the door. A proper bed, with a wood frame and extra quilts and everything. Wood stacked to the ceiling so you’d never be cold.” He takes a breath, and some of the indignation wears away from his voice. “Chickens maybe. Somewhere. Probably not in the house. Children. One or two perhaps. Probably have to keep those in the house.” He folds both his hands around hers, voice solemn. “And a… a garden. With flowers growing in it. Yellow ones, and the other kinds that smell nice. And just — food, and warmth, and safety, and family, and a future, Beth.”  his voice cracks on the word.

Bethany’s heart clenches. It’s Alistair who dreamed of home, and family. She only ever dreamed of not having magic.

“You should have those things too,” she says.

“I was never going to have those things, Beth,” he says quietly. “The Order gave me more than it ever took. Purpose. Friendship. A place to belong.” His fingertip traces over the curve of her jaw. “Love.” The word is all quiet hesitancy.

“It gave me love too,” Bethany whispers back, and brushes a lock of damp hair off his brow.

His answering smile is small, but blinding and full of wonder. He kisses her forehead, and the tip of her nose, and then her lips, tenderly. "Say that again," he breathes against her mouth.

"I love you," she says between kisses. “I love you, love you, love you.”

Alistair kisses her through the blur of I love yous. Until each word is little more than a gasp of breath. He kisses her jawline, and her neck, and works his way down to her collarbones. He kisses her bare shoulders, and the slopes of her breasts, thumbs brushing at her nipples through the fabric of her tunic.

Something warm and syrupy stirs in the cradle of her hips.

Something bright, and eager.

"I haven't your excuse, Beth but…"

"But?" Something about Alistair's touch makes it difficult to focus on anything else. Maybe because it’s slow, and teasing, and he’s got his knee slotted between her legs. Or maybe it’s because her mana has been creeping back, and with it, the effects of joining. That hollow need that’s all heat and bottomless hunger.

The tips of her fingers tingle.

Alistair chuckles, the sound of it muffled against the fabric of her tunic. “But if you’d like… I’d very much like… to make love to you, Beth. Er… probably more than once,” he adds, cheeks coloring faintly.

“I want—” she cuts herself off with a frown, uncertain. That word has held them apart from one another for so long. And she's half afraid that if he knows it’s back—

“Hey,” Alistair says, curling his hand around her cheek. “I want, too.” He tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “So much. For so long.” His thumb catches her lower lip, teasing a smile out of her. He presses a kiss to her lips. "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I do." And there's something there, a seriousness edge in his voice she’s so rarely seen. He swallows hard enough that she can see the bump in his throat wobble. “I love you, Bethany Hawke.”

His smile is tiny, all tremulous at the edges.

Hers is as bright as the sun.

She grabs his ears and pulls him down for a proper kiss. One that’s all breath and joy and swallowed giddiness and swallowed laughter.

“Bethany,” he husks. “Beth…Maker, Beth," and kisses her some more.

His mouth drifts down, across her jaw, pressing a line of teasing bites down her throat and the deep neckline of her tunic. One of his hands is at her breast, the other carefully crumples the fabric of her tunic into his fist, slowly inching it upwards. He skims his touch across her bare flank with a sound so full of wonder that she knows she’ll remember it for the rest of her days, and slides his body lower, planting an open-mouthed kiss against her stomach.

The faint stubble on his chin rasps, and she shivers at the sensation.

"Ticklish?" Alistair asks, delighted. He scuffs his face against her deliberately, just to be certain, and she writhes against him with a soft, swallowed laugh. “Oh,” he breathes.

He kisses her belly again, very carefully, and continues his slow, teasing journey down down down her skin, until he reaches the waistband of her breeches. He tugs at the laces with his teeth, and grins up at her. And Bethany’s heart does a ridiculous sort of flip that has little to do with the white hot flare of heat in her loins.

He uses his teeth to get her laces undone — nearly snarling them into a knot in the process — but he uses his hands to work her breeches and smalls off her hips. Inching them down as a bright flare of desire breaks out across her skin like a heatwave. He leans forward, breath gusting across bare skin and Bethany cannot stop a tiny sound of need from escaping her.

Alistair’s mouth quirks up into a lopsided smile as he nudges her thighs apart, slinging one knee over his shoulder. “May I?” he asks breathlessly.

She swears roundly, in desperate affirmation, and cants her hips up towards him.

Alistair chuckles, and bends to his task.

His mouth is wet heat. All suction and sensation and the deep, approving growl that thrums in the back of his throat like thunder. And it’s—

She grabs at his head. The pleasure is so intense that she doesn’t know if she means to pull him off, or hold him between her thighs forever, until fire inside her burns itself out.

"Oh, forever is good," Alistair says blearily.

The hands in his hair become a sharp tug as she grips him, desire spiking sharply. Starved for his touch though his hands are everywhere, and his mouth is everywhere, and the weight of him presses against her.

The heat Alistair stokes between her thighs isn’t low, or lazy, or blunt with exhaustion like it was at the pools. It’s a bright, terrible thing, all sharp-edged and desperate.

He comes up for a breath, grinning. “Like that do you?”

Bethany makes a wrecked sound.

“Oh? That good, eh?” His expression is too gratified to be deemed a smirk, but it’s close.

His hips rock back and forth a little, a tiny pantomime that’s part reflex and part anticipation. But he keeps the heat of his mouth between her legs, wet and bright, making deep, rumbly noises of approval as she dissolves into a puddle of pure sensation beneath him. There’s too much to feel, so she focuses on the tiny details of him to keep from being completely overwhelmed.

The scrape of his teeth.

The rasp of his stubble.

The stir of his tongue.

The deep slide of his fingers.

Her hips shift and flutter as he breathes quite praise into her skin.

Bethany tips forward against him with a silent cry, every nerve brightly overloaded. A rush of heat that builds and builds and builds until everything is outlined in fire.

A bright, blinding light.

A roar of bliss.

Alistair keeps his mouth against her as she comes. Keeps her hips steady. Keeps her heart beating as the whole world dissolves around her.

"Maker, Beth." He raises himself up, face slick. Shifting his weight. Reaching between his legs to the tangle of his laces and tugging them open, one-handed. He cups himself, all heat and hardness before pressing forward, against her, into her. He gasps, and stills completely. A breath and beat, as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think about moving. Then he makes a tight sound and begins to grind his hips, working himself deeper and deeper with every slow, careful thrust.

“Alistair,” she tugs at his hips, trying to urge him deeper still.

He smiles, and tangles their hands together. First one, then the other, and brings them to his lips, brushing a tender kiss across the backs of her knuckles.

“Alistair…”

“Shhh,” he presses each of her hands above her head and holds them there, gently. “I’ve got you.”

She squeezes his hands back, and rolls her hips against him, grinning. “I’ve got you, too.”

He swears. A quiet surussus of breath against her neck, and begins to move in earnest.

Alistair whispers to her through the bright staccato motion of his hips. Things like beautiful and everything and please and love. He whispers other things too, but the words fragment and fall away until there is just the sound of her name, over and over like a ragged litany.  “Bethany, Bethany, Bethany, Beth… ”

Pleasure builds like the thrum of a heartbeat. Steady. Pounding. Driving on and on. Faster and faster.

She tips her head up to kiss Alistair, but it’s hardly a kiss, just another way their bodies slide together. Open mouths and harsh pants, and he breathes her name against her mouth, each syllable broken into its own little sound.

His thrusts speed up, then slow down, then speed up again. Rhythm suddenly as ungainly as his breathing.

"Gods. Maker."

Bethany's toes curl, and her heart bursts, and she can't tell which of them makes that fractured sound. But it’s loud enough to echo in the dark.

A cry of completion and joy.

Alistair is perfectly rigid above Bethany, carrying enough of his own bodyweight, one-handed so he doesn't squash her. A fine tremor runs through him as he bends his neck, resting his forehead momentarily against hers. Then he makes a broken sound as he slides out. Holds himself upright, breathing hard, arms trembling. A single drop of sweat slides down the bridge of his long nose.

And the world is utterly perfect and peaceful.

Bethany floats for what feels like forever, a single hand still clinging to Alistair. She’s too sated and heavy-limbed to do more than breathe. Certainly not think. She can’t even count their heartbeats, but she acknowledges every one, steady and slow and nearly in sync with one another. Tiny drums in the dark.

She feels Alistair shift above her, and instinctually grips him, fingers twisting around his in an effort to keep him close. He chuckles quietly, and carefully disentangles himself from her.

Bethany makes a flat sound of complaint.

“Greedy.” He murmurs, and kisses her on her nose.

She tips her chin up for a proper kiss, and he obliges, lips soft and sweet and faintly salt from their lovemaking.

He double checks the gear they have piled up next to their bedroll, then rucks Bethany's clothes back into place, and drags her against him, tucking them both into bed, pulling the fraying quilts high over her shoulders. He strokes the curve of her skull, fingers carding through the spill of inky curls.

How the world has changed in a single day.

"Beth, I wasn’t…" Alistair starts, voice scratchy with exhaustion. He falls suddenly silent,  and presses a kiss to her temple, fingers still working soothingly through her hair. “I... wasn’t allowed a last name, because I was born a bastard,” he says very softly after a moment. “But… Theirin.”

“Oh, ha ha. I am Fereldan,” Bethany nudges him through the blankets. “I know what that name means.”

But Alistair is staring straight up into the darkness above them, body rigid, face blank but lined with a tense sort of misery.

He isn’t joking.

What?

“Alistair, you—” She rests a careful hand on his chest and sits up. Even through the fabric of his tunic she can feel his heart hammering. “But that would make you—”

“It would make me nothing.” He interrupts tersely, and grabs her hand. She thinks she might shrug off her touch, but he just folds their hands together, fingers interlinking. “It isn’t safe Beth,” he says softly. “Most everyone who knew I existed is either dead or… or rather happy to think that I’m dead. Or both."

She frowns, and leans over to plant a kiss on their interwoven fingers.

Alistair's hand lifts unconsciously to cup the back of her head. “The whole of my life I never fit anywhere. Not at court. Not with the Templars. But the Warden’s take anyone, don’t they?” He smiles at her, but there’s pain in his eyes. Bright and glimmering with a razor sharp edge. “Even unwanted nobody’s who pose a threat to Ferelden’s monarchy. And though no one has ever even bothered to ask me, I never wanted anything to do with—” he makes a frustrated sound through his teeth, “politics.”

And that’s Aveline to the bone. That ferocious disdain for a world that sets politics above people. And Bethany knows in that moment he'd make a terrible King.

And a fantastic one.

“Does anyone else know?” She asks quietly.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Not for certain, at least. I think Stroud suspects. He was a Chevalier for half his life. Grew up too close to court-life, the nosy git. The Order brought him in from Orlais when I wouldn't lead them. Poor man. The Fereldan armor isn't nearly as fancy. No griffon feathers or lacy underthings in sight.” His mouth twists into a smile, but she can see how forced the expression is. “I did petition Weisshaupt for the lacy underthings, though. They said no. Bloody cheapskates. That's gratitude for stopping a blight.”

“Alistair…”

“I’ve already decided to let the next one slip right through.”

“Alistair.”

“It’s thongs for the lot of us, or I won't lift a finger.”

“Alistair.”

He sighs, and brings her hand to his lips, suddenly serious again. “I know, Beth. Just leave it. Please. It’s a mess, and I don’t know how to begin to untangle it. And I don't need to. I'm right where I want to be. Or, almost..." He snags her around the waist and pulls her down flush against him. One hand threads itself back into her curls, the other drifts cheekily down to her buttock. "There. Now I'm right where I want to be."

Bethany sighs, a quiet happy sound, and slips her hand beneath the neckline of his tunic where she can feel his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “So am I.”

***

It is four years, eight months, and twenty-three days before Bethany sees her brother again.

Kirkwall’s silhouette is unrecognizable whenever it is visible, which it mostly isn't. There’s enough smoke and silt in the sky that it nearly blocks out the sun, and the world seems to flit eerily from day to night and back again with each passing breeze.

And worst of all, the air is brimful of magic. Or, the aftermath of magic. It’s a spent husk, angry and desperate. An echo of the mage who cast it.

And Maker protect them all, it feels like Anders.

Or it feels like the parts of Anders that felt like Justice — all harsh and spirit-scorched. Like the wine at the bottom of the bottle that’s still the same wine, but is too intense to drink. There’s so much Justice now, it’s overwhelming.

(But Anders is still in there somewhere, faint and mellow. A note of elderberry lingering on the back of the palette.)

(Maker, she doesn't know what will happen if he disappears entirely.)

Kirkwall is on fire. Parts of it. Most of it, it looks like from here, though Bethany isn’t really sure where here is. Not Hightown, she doesn't think. Near the docks maybe, but she can’t smell the sea, only the sour reek of death by fire.

She needs to find her brother.

The Hanged Man? Uncle Gamlen’s house?  

She closes her eyes against the smoke, and the bitter smell of the place. Where are you Garrett?

“Huh,” Alistair says behind her, pointing. “Isn’t that...?”

Oh shit.

It is.

It's a full-length, marble statue of her bloody older brother. About 10 feet tall, bearded and stern, with a ridiculous crimson streak across his nose, and a wicked pair of daggers in his hands , and his foot planted on — is that a Qunari skull?

“Huh,” Alistair says again.

The words Champion of Kirkwall are engraved in gold leaf along the bottom, and it’s as telling as the statue itself of how far Garrett has risen that no one's tried to scrape off the gold to sell. And oh Maker, please let it not be a memorial to her brother.

“He’s here, I’m sure of it.” Alistair grips her shoulder, and plants a reassuring kiss against her temple. “He struck me as the sort that's rather hard to kill.”

And well, he isn't wrong.

But if there was anyone who reached for death with open arms, and a smile...

She grips Alistair’s hand and tries to press down the rising panic inside her.

They walk past smoke filled streets, going up — she thinks — towards the heart of the city. They encounter no one, which is almost eerier than the smoke, and the fires, and the distant screams. Kirkwall is a city always on the verge of overflowing. Too many people shoved into too little space. But now it's so empty that even a corpse might be comforting.

Maker, what happened here?

The wind shifts, and Bethany gets a faceful of smoke, and then she sees him.

His back is turned to her. Head to toe in unfamiliar, blood red armor. Hair shaggy enough to fall well past his collar. But she'd recognize him anywhere. She'd recognize him in the pitch dark with only her heart to guide her.

“Garrett! Garrett!”  

He straightens, slow and jerky like a man half-caught in a dream, and drops the oh Maker that’s a dead Templar in a heap at his feet.

A swoop of that old fear deep in her gut, and she freezes. “What— ?”

“Bethany!” He bellows from across the clearing and rushes at her, figure blurring and blinking across the courtyard, and she’s never understood how rogues can bend space like that without magic. But he's at her side in a moment, between the span of one heartbeat and the next. Their breastplates clang together together as he wraps her in a hug so enormous, it all but knocks her off her feet.

His armor is stupidly pointy, and not at all good for hugging, but she hangs on anyway, laughing and crying all at once.

“I knew it, Bethany. I knew you weren’t dead. I told Mother—” a choked sound into her hair. “I knew it.”  

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Bethany says helplessly, voice cracking on every other syllable.

“It was my fault,” Garrett mutters. And that heavy guilt in his voice might be anything. The Deep Roads. Carver. The fact that Kirkwall seems to be actively burning to the ground, and he's red to the elbows in dead Templar.

He mutters a blur of I’m sorrys into her hair, and she grips him even tighter, wrapping him in the protective shell of her magic because she can feel the exhaustion and terror winding around his bones, and he’s her brother, and she loves him, damnit. “I don’t blame you.”

“Idiot. Probably should.”

“Probably,” Bethany concedes with a wet sort of laugh. “But I don’t.”

He pulls away from the hug enough to eye her up and down. “So, they kept you.” He tugs at the shoulder seam of her uniform, where the blue gives way to a hint of silver. “You’re a Warden now.”

“And you’re a – a Champion? The Champion. I saw your statue.”

“Viscount, actually.” He scrubs his hand across his face, neatly smearing the streak of scarlet across the bridge of his nose. “Or the nearest thing to it.”

Bethany blinks.

Last she knew her family was living cheek by jowl in Gamlen’s foul smelling hovel, manhandling third-rate bandits, just to get by, and now her idiot older brother is Viscount of Kirkwall.

“What in the Maker’s name has been going on here?” She breathes, then coughs, waving away the smoke that wreathes them. Her voice drops. “And why are you murdering Templars?”

Garrett grinds his teeth together, jaw tightly clenched. “There isn't time to explain.” There’s something in his voice that is just so lost and bleak that for the first time she thinks to look for—

No Isabela.

No Aveline.

No Varric.

No anyone.

Her brother is a human magnet. He draws people into his orbit with an almost laughable ease. Garrett might have been twelve the last time she saw him alone — when there wasn’t someone hanging on his arm or his word or with bated breath.

She licks the sudden chill off her lips. “Garrett, where is everyone?”

“At the Gallows, Bethy. What's left of it, anyway. How are you at fighting abominations?” He grabs her hand and starts to pull her away with him, into the smoke of Kirkwall, but Alistair reaches out, quick as anything and snags her other hand, tugging back.

“Excuse me,” Garrett says, glaring, “but that's my sister you’ve got there.”

“Yes, and that's my wife you've got.” Alistair doesn't glare nearly as well as her brother does, but he manages a respectable level of sternness.

Garrett's glare shifts to a squint. “I remember you. Alistair, was it?” Garrett eyes him up from boots to cowlick in one neat flick of his hazel eyes. “Oh yes, you are just her type.”

“I don’t have a type.” Bethany huffs, because honestly, her brother is the worst.

And Alistair — traitorously —  bursts into a snort of laughter that he doesn’t even bother to muffle, and Garrett gives her a smile that’s the same as it’s ever been, wide and white and charming when it isn’t menacing, and it’s always a bit of both.

Garrett drops Bethany’s hand with a tiny mock-bow, and grasps Alistair’s free one instead, swinging it back and forth as though he was a child on his way to a candy shop. “Well, come on then little brother, we've got to go save all the mages.”

Alistair blinks rather bewilderedly at Garrett’s hand in his, but follows all the same. “Am I the little brother, then? I'm older, I think.”

(He isn't.)

Garrett snorts. “So? I'm taller—”

(He isn't.)

“—and better looking,” her brother adds firmly. “So I’m the big one. Bethany agrees. Don’t you, Bethy-whatever-your-last-name-is-now? ” He raises his eyebrows expectantly at her.

“Hawke,” she offers.

“Then what’s his last name?”

“Also Hawke,” Alistair mutters.

And Garrett takes the world in stride. All the bumps and bruises and unexpected brother-in-laws. It’s what Bethany has always loved about him best.

“Three Hawkes in Kirkwall?” Her brother bursts out in a gusty laugh that's all rust around the edges. “The Knight-Commander is so very fucked now. This day is turning around quite nicely. ”

Which means for sure it’s going to be the worst sort of day.

And it is.

But…

After it is done, and the Gallows have been cracked open and bled dry, and Bethany herself has bled, and cried, and wondered — twice — if she might be killed; she sits in the on the floor of the courtyard. Alistair is at her back, his arms folded her middle, and his breath against her ear, and her magic on his skin. Her brother is in the background, bellowing orders at anyone with the energy left to listen.

“This seems an excellent time to remind you that I love you very much, Bethany Hawke,” Alistair nuzzles into her hair.

“You do?”

He squeezes her once, tightly. She can feel his smile against the curve of her neck. “Yes, I believe I do.”

The sun comes out over the husk that is Kirkwall. Bright and warm. Cutting through the smoke-dreary haze like magic.

Bethany turns her face to the sun, and squeezes Alistair back.

Things could be much worse, she supposes.

*

5/5 …… Read it from the beginning

#Dragon age #da2 #bethany x alistair #bethistair #Alistair Therin #bethany hawke #IT'S DONE! #This is only the third multi-chapter fic I have finished ever #bruh #praise me

[the-halo-of-my-memory]

Tell Me You Love Me Anyway (rough draft - tease)

A/n: This probably has a billion errors but I feel like posting it anyway. This is only a tiny bit of what I have in mind. I could use as much feedback as possible for this. 

---- [Act 1] ----

Maker, did Anders miss being drunk. 

Justice hasn’t let him sway under the influence since their union. He sees it as a waste of time and senses. 

But to lose one's senses was such a beautiful and intoxicated mess to be a part of. 

Can you stop speaking nonsense?

It’s not nonsense, it’s passion.

It is a waste of time. 

Anders chuckles, nearly spilling his useless drink in the process. 

“What’s so funny, mage?” 

It’s Fenris. He held a drink also, now flirting with drunkenness that will soon take him fully. 

The two have only met not too long ago through a mutual friend, one Garrett Hawke. Anders liked Hawke enough. He was a fellow mage and Fereldan refugee who suffered loss before reaching Kirkwall. He came to his clinic a month ago asking for maps to the Deep Roads. 

It sounded so ridiculous. People who went to the Deep Roads voluntarily must have a death wish. To want to walk in a place full of darkspawn and deepstalkers. A place with rocky terrain and putrid wet air. It was dark and in some places you could hardly see your own hand in front of your place. He could light a torch but it wasn’t worth accidentally burning someone. 

He never wants to go there again. Especially not without Pounce. 

Things changed though. For a favor, he asked for a favor himself. 

Karl……..

He did love him…….and to see him like that……...made tranquil…….

It broke more than just his heart, it shattered his entire being. 

Oh Karl…..

Back in the Circle, the two had agreed between kisses in a quiet nook away from prying eyes, that if either of them became tranquil, they would not want to live like that. There was no known cure. It was either be made a thoughtless pet of the Templars and the Chantry or death. 

It wasn’t actually a plan that would happen. He didn’t think this would be an actual choice that he would make. 

Oh maker, Karl…….

It has been a month since he had to kill him. He still feels the blood on his hands, the sound of his last breath, and how empty he felt when he fell upon the floor. 

He still yearns to get a letter from him…..anything from him. 

Despite everything, he had Hawke to thank. At least Karl has peace now. He can have the maps and himself for the expedition if needed. 

Though he resented it at the time, he was glad he went to have drinks with Hawke the night after. Hearing his and Aveline’s story of loss before reaching Kirkwall brought him back from the pain. 

Hawke had asked him to join him on another night like that.

“But you know, in much better spirits,” he said with a hand on the back of his neck. He swore he saw him turn a shade red underneath that smile and beard.

And here he is now. 

He sat at a table with Fenris, Isabela, Varric, and Merrill. The women were giggling and whispering, Merrill turning pink and covering her mouth while Isabella said something too low for him to decipher. The men were talking about one of Varric’s tales. 

“No, dwarf. I have never read any of your stories.” 

“Have you ever thought about it?” 

“No.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Varric, I can’t read.” 

Well, that’s news…….

Wait, where’s Hawke? He was here just a second ago. 

Anders spots him at the bar. Talking with someone, a human woman. 

He’s never seen her before. She was short, maybe the same height as Merrill. She had deep warm mahogany skin, short dark curly hair, and wore a shirt opened at the neck and chest tucked into the tightest pair of trousers he’s ever seen. 

Sweet Andraste, what an arse!

They speak for a short moment before they each grab a drink and walk over to wear the rest of them sat. 

“Maker, Hawke!” Isabella yells, “How did you find this fine lady? Tell me, are you seeing anyone. Do you have a sister?” 

Hawke’s friend laughs loud and boisterous, covering her mouth half way before she sits herself down. 

“I’m not interested, I'm afraid. If I have a sister, I wouldn’t know. But I know some ladies who would love to give some company to a humorous and attractive lady such as yourself.” 

“You’ll have to tell me all about them, kitten.” 

She sat next to Anders and Hawke sat on the other side of her. 

Now closer to him, he gets a good look at her. 

Fine lady indeed. She had deep dark wide eyes like the night’s sky. Lips pursed as she took sips on her drink. Lots of skin covered down her naked neck and chest, teasing the swell of her breasts where her shirt is undone by the laces. She had small hands with gentle fingers tapping on the drink and the table. She wore no makeup and no jewelry.

Not that she needed them. 

“Friends!” Hawke stood up, hitting and shaking the table on the way. “I want you to meet my friend, Valentine. Val, these are my friends. This is Varric, and that’s Merrill and that’s-” He introduces everyone by name and they all exchange words and greetings. When Anders’ was introduced, he said “hello there.” She replies with only one word. 

“Pleasure.” 

*******

I have no idea where I am. 

It’s green all over. The grass is green and long and being blown by the wind. And the sky is blue and cloudless.

It’s not cold. But it was cold? There were clouds and snow and cold. And now…..not anymore. 

I don’t understand. I was in the car with Jackson. Where is he? 

I remember something. When we were driving…...I saw lights. Like headlights and then…….

Am I dead? Is this a dream? Am I in a coma? I don’t understand at all. 

My suitcase is here. It has my stuff still in it. Didn’t expect that old vintage thing to hold up. My clothes are there, but it’s too warm for them. I’m wearing the only pair of shoes I brought. My notebook was also there, and I’m writing in it right now. 

I don’t know what to do. 

*******

The next time he meets Hawke’s friend is when they get ready for the Deep Roads expedition. 

They were all together meeting with Bertrand in Hightown. He had to give credit to Hawke for making a colorful group of friends. He sees her near him, dressed in leather armor and carrying a long thin sword in a scabbard by her side. 

Her eyes catch his and she waves a hello to him. He waves back. 

Hawke and the dwarven brothers are discussing something when someone cries out. 

It was from a woman with tied back greying hair, running towards the group with a worrisome look in her exhausted eyes. 

“Excuse me, but I need to talk to my children”

Oh, that must be Hawke’s mother. He’s only heard nice things about her whenever Hawke opens up about his family. 

He sees him and Carver walk over to the lady and he’s too far to overhear. 

Some sort of disagreement starts and Carver is yelling and Hawke and their mother try to subdue him. There’s a lot of head shaking and hand waving. At last, Carver appears to accept whatever was that was said. Hawke walks away and his brother and mother stay where they stood. 

Hawke walks over to his groups of friends looking lost in thought. A moment passes and then with both hands he waves over the group to come over. 

“What happened?” Merrill asks. 

“Nothing,” Hawke sighs. “Mother just wanted Carver to stay. He…..eventually agreed.” 

“Now what?” Fenris crosses his arms, a knot between brows form. 

“We have to decide who I am bringing on this expedition.” Hawke sighs once more. He takes in a good look at his companions and bobs his head side to side as if he’s rolling die to choose who he’ll bring. 

“Alright! Besides Varric, I shall bring Anders and Valentine. Do you two agree?” 

Fuck no. 

“Of course, Hawke,” Anders instead says. It was inevitable. 

“Sure,” Valentine nods with a small smile upon her lips. 

“The rest of you can go about your business. We’ll be gone for a while in the meantime.” 

Some murmurs of “alright,” “be careful,” and “see you soon,” were heard before the others left their separate ways. 

Anders watches Hawke go back to the dwarven brothers, no doubt to wrap up a few things before they head out. 

“So you were a grey warden, correct?” It was Valentine. 

“Yes, I was.” She really was quite short. She was a whole head short of him, couldn’t look like she could put her head on his shoulder if she wanted. 

“That’s a lifelong joining, isn’t it? I imagine they’re not happy having you…..displaced.” 

That got a chuckle out of him. 

“Yes, you could say that.” 

“That’s too bad,” she kicks a pebble with the tip of her boot, her eyes looking into the sky and nowhere in particular. “I’m sure they’re doing fine without you. You have more important things like spelunking with us losers in demon infested caves.” 

That got him to laugh out loud. 

“Well when you put it like that, I’m even more grateful I left the wardens.” 

When she laughs, she laughs with her being. She bends forward with her arms wrapped around her abdomen as if she was a tree swaying in the wind. 

She’s kinda cute, isn’t she? 

I do not see what this has to do with the task at hand. 

Relax. It’s just an observation. 

*******

I am in a country called Ferelden. I have never heard of this place before. Is that old English or whatever the fuck? I don’t know, my head hurts and I’m tired from all the travel. 

It took me days by foot, but I eventually reached a small village called Draycott. I asked around for a place to stay and work. And luckily I did. Their innkeeper/pub owner was looking for someone to help clean and keep order in their establishment. He seemed like enough of a nice guy to trust for now. Everything is ancient. There is no electricity or indoor plumbing. Everyone uses candles, gets water from the well, and shits in a pot. I’m afraid to ask why that is. 

I am currently writing in my journal in a room of my own by candle light in the late evening. I’m even using a quill and ink. It’s much harder than I thought. Hope I can read this later. 

This place is so much more strange than I first thought. 

This country and land is certainly beautiful. I believe it's either mid to late spring to early fall. Grass is long, the hills roll, mountains are tall, and the trees high. 

But then I noticed the plant and wildlife. I have never seen these herbs or flowers or whatever the hell they are. They look like something out of a story book. And the animals. I’ve seen wolves and bears from a distance. Luckily, I haven't bothered them enough to attack me. 

But then I noticed a crow. It had such a large beak with ruffled feathers and splashes of red? 

And spiders. The most gigantic ones I have ever seen. They look like the size of horses! What the fuck??

I must’ve been hallucinating. I should get some rest. The people here like to wake at daybreak. 

Farmers are insane. 

*******

They have been in the deep roads for a few days. 

It’s as claustrophobic and dark and all things awful as Anders last remembers. 

He wished the warden commander was here. She must be so warm and cozy now being the queen of Ferelden. 

And Pounce. His little mews and purrs was what really kept him going. 

Well, that and screwing around with Nathaniel was also fun. He had the best expressions. 

The company he has now however wasn't too bad. They certainly made an entertaining crowd. 

“Garrett, if you had to choose, would you rather eat your shirt or your trousers?” 

The echoes of Hawke’s belly laugh lasts almost a minute as they trek along. He had to hold on to his staff to keep himself upright. It was quite contagious and made himself, Varric, and Valentine laugh along with him. 

“Maker Val, I knew I wouldn’t regret bringing you. I think I would eat my shirt. My shirt in particular today looks rather tasty.” 

“I swear no one wants to eat their pants, it’s always the shirt.” 

“Who the hell wants to eat their pants?” Varric raises a brow. 

“I don't know, but I’m waiting for someone to tell me.” 

Without daylight, it’s impossible to tell when it's dawn or near dusk. After crossing corridors and making quick work of darkspawn that lurked, they all agreed to make camp and rest. 

Spare food and drink are brought out, bringing out better spirits for the exhausted party. Bottles of wine and flasks of water. Wrapped packs of dried fruit, meat, and nuts. 

Words start spilling and conversations follow. 

It never ceases to amaze Anders how well Hawke carries himself in social situations. He held a poise like a noble yet spoke like a child raised by pirates. Held confidence in his chest and said things like “Anders, can you help me get my hand out of this jar?” 

 He was like an affectionate pet. 

“Val,” Hawke said. He sat next to Varric while Anders and Valentine sat opposite them. “Did you know that our friend Anders runs a clinic in Darktown?”

Valentine laughs.

“That’s very all of a sudden, Garrett. That would make you a healer, yes?” She looks at Anders now. 

“That’s right,” he smiles back for politeness. “I just try to help the sick as much as I can.” 

“That’s incredibly thoughtful of you. You must make decent coin as well.” 

“Oh, I don’t charge.” Valentine nearly spits out as she drinks from a water flask. 

“You don't?” Her eyes wide and brows raised. “That’s insane. How do you get by?” 

“I get by by getting by. Also being dragged around by Hawke helps.” 

“And you are incredibly welcomed!” Hawke laughs, so does Varric, Valentine, and Anders. 

The group would soon pack their things and move on. 

*******

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE GIANT SPIDERS ARE REAL I HATE WHERE EVER THE FUCK I AM AT 

ANYWAYS....

Life in the village is peaceful. I can’t complain.

Yeah sure, the food could be better and I have to shit in a pot but overall, I like it. 

Not shaving is a big plus for me.

I’ve made the mistake of asking too many questions. Some of the things I don't know are common knowledge, causing people to look at me weird. Someone even asked if I had brain damage. 

And then I realized having amnesia is a great excuse. Everyone now believes I have suffered such an injury. That’s my life now. 

The innkeeper offered me a position to keep his rooms cleaned and naturally, I accepted. He also asked me to watch and possibly teach his young daughter to read and write along with watching her.

She is the dearest thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Her name is Wenona. She is nearly four years of age, has light brown hair that is always braided, has a freckled face, and wears homemade dresses. 

She is mute. I have never heard her talk or make any noise. Her father says she’s only shy, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the spectrum. She is nice nonetheless and gestures when she wants something like food. I speak to her with simple words but not any different than to the others i have spoken here in the village. She understands me just fine. 

We have so far spent days outdoors, picking herbs and flowers and laying in the grass and staring at the clouds. Indoors I help her learn how to write, have tea parties, and cook and bake . I read to her every night before bed and sometimes I sing to her. 

I’ve also realized that this girl has no friends. I’ve seen a few other children here, but they never go up to here to talk or play. I asked her myself and she nodded. I told her that she was my friend and the look in her eyes…..

Learning about the world through her is an amazing experience too. 

They have a religion here called Andrastanism. It sounds similar to Christianity, but instead of God, they have a maker and instead of a son, the maker has a bride named Andraste. I’ve read their biblical stories to Wenona. 

I still have so much to learn. 

****

#i honestly dont know if my writing is good anymore #but thats not gonna stop me from being self indulgent af #hopefully ill finish this in the future #anders is a cutie fight me #my writing #anders x valentine #anders #valentine volk #da #da2

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Dragon Age II, day 1.

Carver’s in Warden armor in the prologue? Huh. Pretty sure Bethany was in Circle robes last time, though at the time I figured they were regular civvies. Hinting at which path sees each twin have a better time, are we, game?

The default appearances of Carver and Bethany are so ingrained in my head that I can’t not create a Hawke who could plausibly be the sibling of people who look like that—which means not straying too far from default Hawke. Along with the reasons I went over last time. Anyway, let’s get into that character creator and do the thing. Hey, if I don’t like the results, there’s always the Mirror of Transformation.

I’m sorry, my Wardens and Hawkes are always going to be somewhere in the light-to-medium range of skin tones—the dark skin tones in these two games look so bad it physically pains me.

I’d all but forgotten how dire the hair options are.

I think I’ve got something reasonably OK. And I’ve managed to resist the temptation to make a girl with cheekbones out past her damn shoulders this time. This is some serious growth for me!

Too much jaw, not enough forehead, and a half-hearted attempt to disguise that with the addition of bangs to her shortish haircut—hello there, mid-teens me.

Anyway, meet Pavey Hawke, ball of anger.

Nice to see that Hawke having a spectacularly lovely voice doesn’t change whichever gender you pick.

Hello, Aveline. You tell that darkspawn who’s boss.

Generally speaking, the answer to “why isn’t this female companion romanceable as a woman” is “because she was written by a gay man whose brain apparently shorts out at the idea of a relationship with no men in it”. Aveline, though. Aveline is the exception.

Wesley, Pavey will absolutely smash you in the face with the heavy end of her staff if you don’t listen to your wife. Back the fuck off.

Leandra, please shut up with the “it’s all your fault”, Pavey is seriously considering smashing you in the face with the heavy end of her staff.

Flemeth! You’re looking significantly less dead than the last time I saw you.

Carver, kid, I know you’re only this angry because you feel powerless, but your sister is the same way, and it’s going to be a long rest of this year if you spend all of it blowing up at each other because of it.

Varric, friend, it’s good to see you. I’m sure you’re embellishing that introduction a bit.

Generally speaking, whoever cast the VAs for this thing clearly loves me and wants me to be happy.

Speaking of which, hello, Sebastian.

Sebastian continues to give me a strong feeling of “The handsome, aristocratic archer with serious issues about his dead relatives is romanceable this time, please forgive us!” But the Nathaniel magic happened in part because a) his backstory hooked into setting elements and lore we already knew and had feelings about, and b) he had an arc. A rather short, straight arc, like everyone in Awakening, but an arc all the same. Sebastian doesn’t quite hit either of those things.

Hah, loving this quest to hunt down nobles from Amaranthine who’ve been conspiring against the Warden-Commander. Some things never change, I see.

Hello, doggie. I’m doing a slight bit of lore-busting and naming this one Argus.

Hello, Anders. Meet your future girlfriend. That’s going to be a fun relationship.

It sure as hell wasn’t Daiwen who made him get rid of Ser Pounce-a-lot, so who was it? Do tell, Anders.

What a blessing it is to be playing a game that doesn’t crash all the time. And it’s nearly 1 in the morning, more tomorrow. Today. Thing.

#dragon age #dragon age ii #pavey hawke

[jchb32273]

DAI (DAO) OC Tag

Tagged by @freethemages​! Thanks!! <3

I think I will tag @andrastini​, @captain-savvy​, @anjelica-grey​, @barbex​, and anyone else who might be interested!

Name: Kylara Auria Amell

Race and Class: Human Mage

Specialization: Primal Mage, Shapeshifter, and Arcane Warrior

Age: 19 (when she was recruited into the Grey Wardens), 30 at the time of the Conclave. Born 22 Drakonis 9:11 Dragon

Height: 5’9” (approx 180cm)

Family*: Unknown until she was able to do a bit of research after the Blight. Then she found out her family had once been Kirkwall nobility. She eventually met her two older brothers and two younger sisters – all of them mages (all of them sent to different Circles), although she only became close to her cousin, Garrett Hawke.

Great Aunt: Bethann Walker-Amell, Great Uncle: Astride Amell, Grandmother*: Lottie Smythe-Amell, Grandfather: Fausten Amell, Uncle: Damion Amell, Uncle: Gamlen Amell, Aunt: Leandra Amell-Hawke, Mother: Revka Amell, Father*: Roland Hawthorne, Brothers*: Leland & Augustin Hawthorne, Sisters*: Gisela & Allectia Amell, Cousins: Garrett, Carver, & Bethany Hawke

(* As there are some gaps in the Amell Family Tree – found on the Dragon Age Fandom wiki – I made up and filled in a few of my own names. Also, not really sure why Kylara and her siblings would have the last name of Amell… as that is their mother’s last name. Perhaps it was a nobility thing. So I just made up that the boys took their father’s last name and the girls took their mother’s.)

Love Interest: Alistair Theirin

Personality/Traits: Mostly calm and logical, but she can get hotheaded if someone argues against her core beliefs. She is a very smart, strong and powerful mage. Kylara is also highly passionate. Once she and Alistair had had their first time together, they were nearly inseparable. Heterosexual (possibly bi-curious, as she kissed Leliana one evening when she and Alistair were briefly apart. While Leli claimed that Kylara “wasn’t really into it”, it may have opened up new ideas in her head.) She had only ever been with Alistair until she met the sexy pirate captain, Isabela, at the Pearl… which led to a very steamy threesome between the three of them. After it, she swore to Alistair that it was just a one-time thing… until they met Isabela again a few years later. Now and then she and Ali will comment on finding other women attractive, and what it might be like… but they have not acted upon these thoughts. Both are fully content being with each other.

Background*: Until she found her family, Kylara only remembered coming to the Circle at Kinloch when she was eight years old. First Enchanter Irving had put a memory block on her at the request of her father. The reason for this she found out later, was because when her brother, Augustin, was sent away to a Circle in Nevarra at the age of ten (Kylara was unaware of her eldest brother, Leland – who was already in the Ostwick Circle – because she had only been three when he had been taken by the Templars), Kylara became very angry at her father for sending him away. As she screamed and cried, her own magic suddenly flared, wild and nearly unmanageable. Due to her immense power and her lack of control, her father was terrified of his daughter becoming an abomination. He immediately called for the Templars. They used Holy Smite to drain Kylara’s mana and then gave her some herbs that put her into a deep sleep. As they were in Crestwood at the time, the Templars quickly took her to Kinloch Hold.

Her father was worried that if Kylara remembered her past family life it could cause her to lose control before she was properly trained. He sent a letter with the Templars to the first enchanter of the Circle if there was something he could do to make Kylara forget her past, which Irving did.

As it turned out this was a good thing for Kylara because it allowed her to focus on her studies. She excelled and quickly became a favorite pupil of many of the mage instructors, Irving included. She also made many friends while she was there.

Anders was twelve years her senior, but he loved many of the younger mage students and mentored them as a “big brother”. Despite their age difference, Anders was easily one of her closest friends. She was crushed when he ran from the Circle when she was thirteen. Kylara also had many girlfriends. Her best friend was Sarita – a city elf from the Highever Alienage. When she was seventeen, she also became friends with a young Templar by the name of Cullen.

Sadly, not all friendships turned out to be true. Jowan was a young boy of ten when she first met him. Being close in age, they became friends… but as they grew older they drifted apart. Just after her Harrowing, Kylara not only found out that Jowan was in a forbidden relationship with a Chantry initiate, but that he was also practicing blood magic and had plans to destroy his phylactery so he could escape the Circle with Lily. She reported this to Irving, who then had her lead Jowan and Lily into a clever trap. Once Jowan found out that his friend had betrayed him, he swore that one day he would get revenge…

(* Again, lots of things in here that I made up to cover up any gaps and/or inconsistencies. I also call it a creative license as a FanFic writer… lol!)

Leadership Style and Preferences: Kylara would not want to call herself a leader, despite Alistair deferring to her once she had become a Grey Warden. While they were traveling together during the Blight, she spent the next several months helping Alistair to build up his own confidence and belief in himself. When she has had to step into a leadership role, she does try and listen carefully and have all of the facts before making a tough decision. Has she made mistakes? Sure even the best-informed individuals can still make the incorrect choices.

Favorite Companions (up to 3): DAO – Leliana, Alistair, and Zevran // DAI (Kylara will not be my quizzy… but someone you have heard of will be! Leaving it there to hopefully prevent any spoilers!) Dorian, Iron Bull, Cole

Least Favorite Companions (up to 3): DAO – Oghren, Sten // DAI – Sera, Vivienne, Solas (It isn’t that Kylara and my future quizzy hate these people, but rather that they just tend to disagree with them more often than agree…)

Mages or Templars?: Mages

Who Was Left In The Fade?: Warden Stroud

Who Rules Orlais?: Empress Celene and Briala

Favorite Advisor: Cullen and Leliana

Hobbies: (Back to Kylara now…) Reading, Cooking, Chess, Spending time with Alistair, and practicing her magic.

Familiar: Kylara doesn’t have a familiar, but she does have her beloved Mabari, Winston.

Scars/Tattoos?: Fighting during the Blight has given Kylara numerous scars. Arrow scars – one in her left shoulder and two in her lower abdomen. Desire Demon claw marks on her chest. A dagger scar across her stomach. Werewolf claw marks on her upper back… and many other scars from fighting numerous darkspawn and the Archdemon at the final battle of Denerim. Despite these scars, Alistair tells her every day how beautiful she is and how lucky he is that they are together.

Favorite Flower: Roses (for obvious reasons!)

Favorite Stone Or Gem: (Minor Spoiler if you haven’t read Kylara’s Story yet…) One evening, Alistair had told Kylara that the Joining had taken away her ability to have children. Devastated and heartbroken, she fled from the camp. Alistair found her by the shore of Lake Calenhad and began to comfort her. What then started off as sweet and tender soon turned wild and passionate. Kylara felt her magic flare up inside of her and not knowing what else to do with it, she directed it into a nearby boulder. Once things had calmed between her and Alistair, she touched the rock… and it split open! Inside were strange crystals that mirrored both their eye colors when they fought darkspawn – bluish/silver for Kylara and golden for Alistair.

The next morning, Alistair chipped off a few of the crystals and secretly had them made into necklaces for Kylara and himself. The next time they made love, they found that the crystals were able to hold excess magic (for Kylara) and excess energy (for Alistair). As their journey progressed and their bond deepened even further, the crystal’s magic began to grow and change… allowing Ali and Kylara to communicate telepathically and feel each other’s emotional states.

After the Blight, Kylara was able to finally talk with First Enchanter Irving about their crystals. He said they were called Aventurine (sorry, yes… borrowed from D&D… 😅) and that they were incredibly rare and special. When two people are meant to be with each other, despite numerous obstacles and odds against them, these crystals can form when that bond is born from their love.

Kylara and Alistair still wear these crystal necklaces to this day.

Weaknesses: As mentioned before, Kylara can be a bit hotheaded and sometimes her temper has gotten the better of her… more so when she was younger. The years have mellowed her quite a lot, but she can still get up in someone’s face if they say something that truly angers her.

#tagged #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #oc #kylara amell #mage #hinting at my quizzie yet to come #alistair #alistair x warden #alistair x amell #background #character development