#you can see how close teagan and alistair used to be

[obiroguewan]

And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travelers.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #teagan guerrin #hero of ferelden #warden amell #gamingedit #dailygaming #dagif #* #i think about this interaction a lot #you can see how close teagan and alistair used to be #it's just so cute *sobs*

[bitesizedpromises]

How the echo fades when thunder strikes

ZevWarden Week 2022 Day 3 - Fights and Reconciliation

Pairing: Zevran/Katoss (Original Non-Warden Character)

Characters: Zevran Arainai, Alistair Theirin, Katoss

Summary - While in Redcliffe, Alistair and the others witness a lovers' spat. Everyone feels awkward about it.

Word Count: 3209

**

“The family is very grateful to you, Alistair,” Teagan was saying. “If it weren't for you and your friends coming to our aid, Redcliffe would have been wiped off the map. And then there was this story with Connor ...” He grimaced. “What a foolish woman … but I suppose I can understand why she did it all. Connor is her only child after all.” He turned to Alistair and smiled. “What I'm saying is that we appreciate all you've done for us. Truly.”

“I'm just repaying arl Eamon for all the kindness he's shown me,” Alistair said. “And I need him. Without him by my side, confronting Loghain for all his deeds would be pointless. I suppose you heard what he did with the Couslands?”

“I did.” Teagan nodded. “That demon didn't succeed in isolating us entirely. What a disgrace, to have one of Ferelden's oldest families slaughtered in a single night!”

“The Cousland's were the oldest and the most powerful family,” Alistair pointed out. “It's clear Loghain was preparing his betrayal long before the Blight started. Eamon is the only one left whose words carries enough weight to sway the lesser lords. I need him by my side. So I will find the Ashes of Andraste and cure him.”

He quickly left the room. Once he was certain that he was away from Teagan's eyes and ears, he allowed himself to slow down. He slumped his shoulders and let out a heavy sigh. How he wished he actually possessed the confidence he'd just been demonstrating!

His feet carried him to the wing where his and his friends' rooms were. As he turned round the corner, he found Wynne and Leliana standing there. They had gathered by a closed door, their faces contorted with worry. Alistair was about to ask what they were up to when the sound of shattering porcelain reached his ears. A duet of loud voices followed, one of which was shouting in a foreign language. The noises were coming from the very same door that the two women were standing by. That door, Alistair realised belatedly, was the door to Katoss's and Zevran's room.

“Never, never in my life has anyone humiliated me so!” Katoss was yelling. Alistair could barely recognise his voice. There was no hint of laughter or teasing in it; his words sliced through the air ice cold and dripping with venom. “How dare you?!”

Zevran was speaking much more calmly so Alistair couldn't hear his words clearly, but he could sense the tension in his voice. Whatever he was saying was apparently not the right thing, because what followed his pleas was even more shattered ceramics.

“What a mutt you are!” Katoss screamed with a shaking voice. “I gave up everything for you, and you … you have the audacity to chase after some … some low-life tramp!”

Leliana gasped softly and Wynne nudged her with her elbow. Then the two noticed Alistair and Leliana quickly waved at him. He could only guess whether the gesture meant he ought to join them in their eavesdropping or if he were to keep quiet. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to join them – just in time to hear Zevran's hasty explanation.

“My beauty, you know you are my all! You do, don't you? But, I mean … it is only polite, don't you agree, that when a maiden graces one with a smile, that one ought to return the gesture. It's certainly nothing more dangerous than that, my darling! It is only a matter of good manners, that's all!”

“Manners! Manners?!” The unmistakeable sound of a slap followed. Even through the thick wood of the door, they could hear Zevran wince in agony. “And was it good manners that made you offer her your lap?”

“W-well … you see, I ...”

“Oh, spare me your words!” Katoss yelled. “Just … get out! Get out of my sight before I do the world a favour and destroy you!”

Zevran tried to protest but quickly gave up after yet another dish was smashed on the floor. They heard his hurried steps approaching. Alistair panicked and his legs froze. Leliana and Wynne, on the other hand, proved much more experienced than him. They quickly dove into their room, leaving him to face Zevran's wrath alone.

Zevran flung the door open and ran out the room. He was shaking, his face dark like a stormcloud. He was startled to see Alistair standing before him, but his surprise quickly disappeared and some pathetic expression of defeated acceptance took its place. After a few moments of silence Zevran threw his head back and let out a roaring forced laugh.

“So you're just waiting your turn to swoop in!” He grinned, but Alistair saw that there was no laughter in his smile. Zevran's entire demeanour was, frankly, pitiful. He was doing his best to appear nonchalant, but he came off more like a man with a deathly wound who insisted with his dying breath that he was perfectly fine. “That emblem on your shield, Warden … it is a griffon, is it not? It is a symbol for you and your brothers.” Alistair nodded, and Zevran laughed again. “It does not suit you, my friend! I'd suggest you pick a new one for yourself. I think … yes, a vulture would be best.”

He walked past Alistair with his head held high. Alistair stared after him, then sighed and shook his head. He knew he was just getting himself into more trouble, that he ought to simply retreat into his room and hope that Katoss and Zevran would handle this issue themselves. But he already felt involved in this mess, so he pushed the door open and carefully walked into the room.

Katoss didn't hear him come in. He was sitting by the window, his head hanging low. He was breathing heavily and rubbing his eyes. He looked … unrecognisable. Alistair had never seen him so vulnerable and … well, so young. He and Katoss were the same age but Katoss had always behaved in a much more mature and dignified manner. He'd always been the one in control, either by virtue of his looks or his charm. And now Alistair was witness to the the hopeless creature Katoss was reduced to when the man for whom he'd sacrificed everything had betrayed him.

Alistair walked over to him, carefully sidestepping the broken pieces on the floor. He cleared his throat to get Katoss's attention. Katoss immediately sprung to his feet. He looked down and started to smooth out his clothes. He wasn't quick enough, though, as Alistair had already noticed how red his eyes were.

“What is it, Alistair?” Katoss asked quietly. “You want to discuss something with me?”

“O-oh, n-no ...” Alistair stammered. “I simply, uh … I was just walked by and I … uhh … I saw Zevran, you know. He … he looked upset. A-and so I thought … well, I should stop by and check up on you.” He shut his mouth when he realised how transparent his lies were. “I'm sorry.”

“You're sorry?” Katoss chuckled and shook his head. “What a joke. You haven't done anything to me.”

“Yes, I know. I just ...” Alistair looked at him. “I don't like seeing you like this.”

Katoss looked up at him and smiled sadly. Alistair's stomach tightened. When he first met Katoss, he hadn't liked him. He found Katoss to be sly and colourful and dangerous, like a venomous snake. Katoss, to him, seemed to embody everything that all of Alistair's mentors had told him was sinful and wicked. Unbeknownst to Alistair, that feeling of suspicion and wariness had slowly morphed into one of admiration. Katoss had, somehow, woven his way into Alistair's thoughts. He still had enough sense to know that this was just a temporary infatuation that would not lead to anything good. It didn't even matter what Alistair felt, as Katoss had made his choice long ago, and that choice was not Alistair.

And yet, he cared for Katoss, and he couldn't bear to see him grieving. Perhaps this was the true reason why he'd become invested in this lovers' spat.

“You're so sweet, Alistair. You truly are.” Katoss took his hand and squeezed it. “Sometimes, I even think ...” He stopped and laughed. It was a laugh full of bitterness, but it did bring some life back into his eyes. “No, I won't say what I'm thinking. I'm sorry, Alistair, I'm not feeling like myself today.”

“Of course, of course. You are upset, after all.” Alistair nodded. “I … if you'd like to be alone …?”

“Yes, thank you.” Katoss turned away from him and stared out the window. His eyes became vacant again and he muttered, more to himself than to Alistair. “Perhaps that's what I need now … to be finally by myself ...”

Alistair didn't know what to say to that. He mumbled some comforting phrases, then silently left. He stopped in the hallway, confused and a little flustered. The way he saw things, he currently had two courses of action. Which was the right one?

He was the leader of their little group and as such, it was his responsibility to upkeep the harmony, already in a delicate balance, between the group's mismatched members. A conflict between Zevran and Katoss, who up until today were so close and loving to each other, could shake the very core of that harmony. So, from a leadership point of view, Alistair had to do something. Right?

A heavy sigh rolled off his lips, and a wave of resentment rose in his chest. Why oh why did that fool Zevran have to fuck up right now?! As if they didn't have enough worries already!

Puffed up with indignation, Alistair went off in search of Zevran. A good scolding, he thought, would cheer him right up.

He found Zevran sitting a top the fortified wall. He was looking down at the village and absently pulling off pieces of the moss that was creeping up the stone, then tossing them away. He had a much more doomed appearance than Alistair would have thought (secretly, he'd been hoping to catch Zevran with the girl that had been sitting in his lap). Suddenly, Alistair didn't feel a scolding would be appropriate.

Zevran saw him and stood up. He walked over to Alistair with a determined expression on his face.

“I have a request, my friend,” he said.

“Yes?”

“I know these times are very inconvenient for one to have a tragedy of the heart,” Zevran said. “After all, if the darkspawn take us over, all our petty grievances and sins would not matter, would they?” He looked at Alistair expectantly and Alistair nodded,  even though he was still unsure what Zevran wanted him to do. “Very well. But despite all that, I would be very grateful to you … if you can convince Katoss not to come with us to retrieve the Ashes of Andraste.”

“Oh!”

“I know what you're thinking,” Zevran said quickly. “You think I have grown tired of Katoss, that I have had my fill of him, as the saying goes? No, my friend, believe me that this is untrue. I … I am weak, I am not like Katoss. I hurt him with my weakness, and now he ...” Zevran stopped and shook his head. “You saw him, I suppose? Yes. He is hurt, he is lost. It is my fault, I know, and I take full responsibility. I am ready and willing to crawl in the mud and beg for his forgiveness, for the rest of my life if I need to! But … I don't like the idea that he will be going into danger in such a state. I don't want him to die because my willpower wavered.”

Zevran looked at Alistair. His cheeks and eyes were burning, and Alistair couldn't help but feel moved. It wasn't Zevran's words; the Crow was infamous for his silver tongue, he could weave masterpieces of deception with words. But the emotions that flowed from these words, from every pore of Zevran's being … those were real. Zevran, usually so aloof, so level-headed, was now a wreck. Alistair was yet to feel love as strong – perhaps he ought to thank the Maker for it – but, looking into Zevran's eyes, he could understand. And he agreed. Katoss could not come with them. Here, in the safety of the castle, he would have the time and peace to think over what had happened. Perhaps, he could even find the grace to forgive Zevran.

“I … I'll see what I can do,” Alistair said.

“Thank you, Alistair.” Zevran bowed. “I shall not forget this.”

He nodded, then walked away with a slow step.

**

They were set to leave for Haven the next morning. While they were having breakfast, Alistair pulled Katoss to the side so the two could have a private talk. He saw that Zevran was watching them from the other end of the room. The poor elf looked so concerned, he'd barely touched his food.

Alistair had prepared a short speech to Katoss. However, Katoss barely let him get a few sentences out. He raised his hand to silence him.

“You want me to stay behind,” he said. His thin eyebrows were furrowed, but he looked otherwise calm. “So you've taken his side. I suppose I should have expected it.”

“I am on both his and your side.” Alistair sighed. “Look, Katoss … I'm not denying that what Zevran did was bad. But you and I both know that he's not perfect. And we both know that he loves you more than anything and anyone else in the world.”

“Does he?” Katoss turned to Zevran with a sharp glare. Zevran flinched and quickly looked away. “His love isn't worth much if that is how he expresses it.”

“He made a mistake, and he regrets it deeply,” Alistair said. “I'm not saying you have to take him back. I'm not even saying you have to forgive him. I can't tell you what the right thing to do is. This is something that you need to figure out for yourself. But I think … that you are not in the right state of mind to figure it out now. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life regretting a decision you made when you were too emotional.”

Katoss had tilted his head to his side. A light smile had appeared on his face as he listened to Alistair's speech. When it was done, he chuckled.

“You are far too good sometimes, do you know that?” He took a step forward, the pleasant scent of flowers wafting towards Alistair's nostrils, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Alright, I will wait here while you're off doing hero deeds. I do hope you'll return in one piece.” Katoss glanced at Zevran again. “All of you.”

He turned away and ran out the room. Zevran watched him leave with an unblinking stare. When Alistair returned to the table, Zevran sighed and shook his head.

“I've lost him forever, haven't I?” He asked quietly.

Alistair didn't say anything. His thoughts were a mess, and he felt a dull, nagging ache in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn't right, he thought.

An hour later, as they were preparing to depart, it dawned on him. Alistair left Sten to look over their bags and sought out Zevran. He found him at the back of the group, sharpening his daggers with a forlorn expression.

“Zevran, you're staying behind too.”

“Huh?”

Alistair smiled, seeing the usually confident elf being rendered speechless.

“Stay here,” he said, “with Katoss. You two need to fix this.”

“I am afraid that it is already too late for that.” Zevran sighed. “My love doesn't want me any longer.”

“Yes, he does. He loves you dearly, and you love him too.”

“I wish that were so. But even if it were, surely it must wait?” Zevran looked at him. “Surely you would not want to lose a capable fighter like myself?”

“Well, it'll be tough to handle things without you,” Alistair said, opting to be generous rather than truthful. “But I still think it would be better if you stayed behind. After all, this is what we're fighting for – for love, and for peace. And your battle for love and peace is right here.”

He grabbed Zevran's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. Zevran didn't look pleased with his decision, but he accepted it. He gathered his belongings slowly, looking quite sour, then went back in the castle. Alistair went back to the group. He saw that Leliana was smiling at him, and Wynne gave him a nod of approval. Encouraged, Alistair took his shield and fastened it to his back.

“Alright!” He said, his voice filled with new strength. “Is everyone ready?”

**

Zevran walked in the bedroom. Katoss was sitting in front of the mirror and was brushing his hair. He saw Zevran's reflection and turned around to face him. A victorious smile was dancing on his lips. Zevran grinned as well. He crossed the room with a few quick steps and took Katoss in his arms.

“What a masterful actor you turned out to be, my love!”

“You were pretty good too!” Katoss laughed when Zevran started to kiss him all over. “How long will they be gone?”

“Four days at the least.”

“Four days,” Katoss repeated, then sighed in content. “And while they climb that dreadful mountain, you and I will be here, as honoured guests. Oh, how wicked and smart you are, my lord, to come up with this plan! You tricked them all!”

“It is so easy to play on people's goodness. You know that as well, my beloved.”

Katoss nodded. He took Zevran's hands and led him to the bed. He pushed him down, straddled him and plunged into a vicious attack on his lips. Meanwhile, his hands were roaming all over Zevran's body and tugging on his clothes, a silent demand to remove them. Zevran closed his eyes, eager to let passion overtake sense. But … something kept on nagging him.

“Just a moment, Katoss,” he said, putting a stop on Katoss's efforts to disrobe him. “Did you have to kiss Alistair?”

“Well!” Katoss laughed. “Perhaps I got too into my role.”

“I think we could have gone without it.”

“Is that what you think?” Katoss's green eyes ignited. He leaned in, his tone taking on a dangerous note. “Does it make you mad that I kissed our Warden, my lord?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it does.”

“Does it make you very mad?”

Katoss's face was so sweet and innocent, almost believably so. Zevran couldn't help but laugh. He took Katoss by the thighs and flipped him over so that now Katoss was the one lying on the bed. Zevran kneeled over him and began to cover his face with numerous kisses, one for each freckle.

“I am very angry with you.” Kiss. “Yes, I am.” Kiss. “You, my darling.” Kiss. “Are very bad.” Kiss. Katoss lay beneath him, helpless, breathless, with his cheeks flushed, his eyes burning and his lips half-parted. Zevran smiled as he cupped his face with one hand. “Never,” he said gently, running his thumb over Katoss's wet lips, “never change, my love.”

**

#zevwarden week 2022 #zevran arainai #katoss #zevran x katoss #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age fanfiction

[laurelsofhighever]

16. from the 50 types of kisses, for Rosslyn and Alistair? 🥺

You have no idea how much I was hoping someone would pick this one - I’ve had this idea since I read The Masked Empire and hated every single character, but Gaspard especially after the stunt he pulled with Teagan. Pitting Rosslyn against him in my head made me feel better, and this is the aftermath, where Alistair calms her down. Minor spoilers for TME, I guess, but you really don’t need to read it to understand what’s going on here. Thank you!

16. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

Muttering, the Queen of Ferelden paced the room in long, sweeping turns of formal silk, furious. Night had long since fallen, the final strains of lute and lyre from the royal musicians had faded, and even the most debauched rakes of the Orlesian court had found themselves a bed. Only her husband remained to behold her battle-rage, kept at bay until they reached the relative privacy of the suite Celene had offered them for their stay.

“Rosslyn –” Alistair tried, crossing the room to finally intercept her.

She let herself be caught, but it didn’t stop the muttering. “– catching rats with it – As if he hasn’t kept it in a trophy case all these years – I’ll show him rats, that swaggering, self-important –”

“Rosslyn.” He stroked calming lines along her upper arms. “It’s over. You beat him, at his own game, no less.”

“He was lucky I didn’t kill him where he stood,” she snarled. “Queen Moira’s sword, Alistair. We thought it lost the night she was betrayed, and all this time he was waiting for an opportunity to lord it over us.”

“But we have the sword now,” he pointed out, still calm. “And instead of scoring a point with it, Gaspard ended up looking like a fool because you outmatched him with that fiendish tongue of yours. I think Celene was quite taken with you knocking him back a few steps there – which is too bad for her because you’re already spoken for.”

The light tone failed to lift the pout that curled about Rosslyn’s mouth like a dragon, and Alistair loosed a sigh as he let his hands trail down to the brush of her fingertips.

“I would have liked to run him through,” she insisted, her frown fixed no higher than his shoulder as he nudged his lips against her temple.

“We can’t have this.”

She drew back, sharp. “What does that mean?”

“It means –” He stopped, and tilted his head to the side, and brought one hand up to cup her cheek. “You’ve got something on your face.”

“What?”

“Let me just –”

With a look of intense concentration, he leaned down, holding her still with the lightest touch of his fingertips, and then at the last instant ducked forward and pressed his mouth against hers. At first the shock kept her from responding, but slowly she melted into the familiarity of the gesture, savouring the slant of his lips against hers and the heat it sent swirling through her limbs. When he finally pulled away, she had almost forgotten where they were.

“There, that’s better,” he declared, brushing away a stray lock of hair from her face. “You had a pout.”

The smug curve of his smile brought a huff of laughter to her lips. “Crafty as a weasel.”

“I was only doing my duty as a husband,” he protested, and kissed her knuckles. “I can’t have my lady fair be unhappy, now can I?”

“You are a dutiful husband,” she allowed, shifting closer into the circle of his arms with a smirk and stopping just shy of his mouth. “But what if I can feel the pout coming back?”

“Well then, I’ll just have to see it off again –” He closed the distance. “– and again –” Another kiss. “– and again. Is it gone now?”

She smiled against him, arms around his neck, so close their breath mingled. “Not even close, my love.”

--

kiss prompts here

#playwright-fate #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age: origins #alistair x cousland #alistair x warden #cousland #rosslyn cousland #my writing

[wwall-archive]

Proud - King and Longing Heart

A/N: Hi, I'm sappy and emotional but I'm sure y'all have figured that out by now lmao. ANYWAYS hi it's Alistair and I's six month wedding anniversary today and uh here's a fic to celebrate 🥺 and that's abt all I have to say on that for once awnwisnehs I may also being posting a poem later if I can work up the courage but. We will see 😔

CW: Like 2 sec mention of alcohol but not even of consumption. Getting undressed but like domestically not sexually and no nudity. Silly banter where we're kind of going back and forth poking fun at each other but it's all flirty and in good fun and just how we talk!! Hint at Al feeling insecure? But not explicitly stated.

Word Count: 871

Tag List: @sacredempressnatlyia @ladynyat @solomates @cosmicselfship (I. Forget who was even on the tag list at this point. I need to post writing more. I should make a tag list post. Y'all just have this and if you would rather not be tagged just lmk no questions asked avatavtaavyaa!!! and if anyone else would like to be tagged/I forgot to tag you also just lmk as per usual <3)

~~~

I fell back onto our bed dramatically as Alistair closed the door behind us, sighing loudly. “If Teagan doesn't start running Redcliffe and stop randomly showing up here to make us have formal dinners with him to discuss policy, I may go insane.”

His chuckle was low, and soothing, “Are you telling me you don't enjoy being grilled about what we intend to do for road infrastructure on the Imperial Highway?"

“After the huge construction effort that was made to re-pave the whole thing just last year? Not particularly, no.”

He laughed more loudly at that, “Can you really blame him for wanting to make sure that people have an easy time traveling to Redcliffe?”

I raised my head enough to look at him and raise an eyebrow in question, “Are you insinuating anyone has ever had a difficult time getting Redcliffe because of infrastructure and not the plethora of other issues that plague the Hinterlands? Because I beg to differ.”

“You've got me there.”

“Does that mean you'll tell Teagan to go home and stay home?”

“Are you insinuating Teagan listens to me? Because I beg to differ.”

“...You've got me there.” I sat up slowly, stretching my arms out, “Feel like helping me get this dress off? Because these laces are hell and I'd love you forever if you undid them so I don't have to.”

He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense as he moved to meet me at the mirror, “Ouch, I didn't know I was still earning your undying love.”

“I’ve gotta keep you on your toes somehow, can't have you getting complacent.”

“Right, because running a kingdom couldn't possibly be enough to keep me sharp.”

“I see we should be prioritizing curbing your ego, then. I'll note that.” I began undoing the necklace I was wearing as he began undoing the laces on my dress that I couldn't reach.

“So are we going to acknowledge that our wedding was six months ago today, or were we just intending to let that slip by?” His eyes met mine in the mirror over my shoulder once he posed the question.

“Ah, you noted that, did you? I didn't know if six months would be a milestone you'd consider.”

He shrugged, “I'm holding onto the really fancy wine until a full year, but half of one isn't something to snub, is it?”

“No, you're right. Quite impressive that we've gone a full six months of being officially joined at the hip and you're still not sick of my antics.”

He pouted softly, “If it makes you feel any better, I would never describe any of your behaviors as ‘antics’.” He finished with the laces and moved his hands to rest them on my shoulders, rubbing them softly.

“Six months and you've already got the whipped husband thing down pat. That really is the most impressive part, I'd say.”

He reached for one of my hands, raising it to his lips to kiss my knuckles softly, “I could've never perfected the mindset without your guidance. Or just my general adoration for you.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop my smile, “Oh, stop that. What did I say about derailing conversations with compliments?”

His eyes were gentle, and so was his hand on my shoulder. “Have I told you that I love you?” A thousand times, and he knew it.

“Have I told you I’m proud to be your wife?” His expression snapped to shock as he held my gaze in the mirror. A genuine question, and based on the reaction I was receiving, I assumed the answer was ‘no’.

“Well- I-” I was almost embarrassed to say that I found his sputtering endearing. Almost.

“How does it feel, being on the receiving end of the sudden compliment, huh?” My tone was teasing, but my voice was quiet.

His voice was choked with emotion even as he joked back, “Pretty good, actually. I really don't see what you've been complaining about.”

I ran my thumb over his knuckles, softly, “You know I mean it, right?”

“It's still a little hard to believe, if I'm being honest.”

I turned to face him, taking his face in my hands. Our height difference made the position awkward, as I was determined to look into his eyes, but I would make it work.

“You are the best man I have ever known, and I am proud of you. None of your accomplishments have been anything to write off, down to the way you retain your goodness even in spite of everything you've been through. To even be associated with you was one of the few things I wear as a badge of pride, and to now be viewed as your partner is truly all I could ask for. Do you understand?”

His misty eyes told me that he did. He opened his mouth to speak, but promptly shut it again, and settled for leaning down even farther to bury his face in my neck. I settled for bringing my hand up to run it through his hair, silently.

After a few moments, I both heard and felt him murmur, almost silently, “I love you.”

“And I love you, my King.”

#otp: king and longing heart #okay to rb! #my writing #anti self ship dni #self ship #selfship #self ship writing #selfship writing #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #selfshipping #text

[allisondraste]

Since you are into psychological character interpretation (and I really loved last piece about Eamon), what do you think about this article?

https://levelskip.com/rpgs/Dragon-Age-Origins-How-I-Eventually-Found-Alistair-Insufferable

Hey there!  That post about Eamon is actually from a couple of years ago, and for whatever reason it’s been recirulating but thanks for reading it! And thanks for the ask! I’ve missed metaposting about DA.  I’m a bit rusty, so pardon me as I dust off my keyboard, lol. 

I’ve read the article and the first thing that I want to say is that while I disagree with the author on many of the points, I respect that they are allowed to have a different opinion than mine and I don’t really want to make this response about picking it apart.  We’ve all played the same game, we’re all given the same Alistair, and I think that how we choose to interpret him is going to be based upon our own life experiences. 

 I’ll put the rest under a read more so as to not clog dashes with my essay. 

One point that I always find myself drawn back to when I’m discussing Alistair, particularly with people who call him “childish,” “immature,” “annoying,” “whiny,” etc., is the fact that in Dragon Age Origins, Alistair is only 20 years old. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I  was 20, I was all of those things.  I was still working on growing up and gaining life experience and figuring myself out.  Just like Alistair is.  

On top of only being 20, he’s also had a pretty invalidating upbringing. At the end of The Calling, we learn that Fiona has given birth to a baby boy, Maric’s second son, who turns out to be Alistair.  Fiona knows that she cannot keep him because for whatever reason she has lost her Grey Warden abilities, and is unable to be rejoined.  She has to return to the Circle and mages aren’t allowed to keep their children.  Fiona does not wish a royal life upon Alistair, and neither does Maric, so they jointly decide to place him under Eamon’s care, something that did not end up being a good environment for Alistair. 

Throughout his childhood, aside from Teagan, Duncan is the only consistent and positive presence in Alistair’s life.  Duncan was close friends with Fiona, and he promised her to watch over him.  Duncan is not someone Alistair has just known for six months.  Duncan is probably the closest thing Alistair has to a father figure, and it’s Duncan who recruited him after seeing how miserable he was as a Templar.  Duncan’s death was traumatizing for him, as was losing the first real “family” he ever felt he had.  He might not have known them for long, and they might not have been blood, but those relationships were so important to him, and they were ripped away all in one terrible night. 

It makes sense that he’s upset, and it makes sense that he has a hard time being considerate of his companions’ grief.  Alistair has a lot of emotions, and he’s still learning how to process them. 

The other point that I really wanted to discuss is the concept of love being unconditional.  Love is not unconditional, nor should it be in a practical sense.  We should not stay in relationships with people who are abusive to us because love is unconditional.  We should not stay in relationships with people whose values are diametrically opposed to our own because love is unconditional.  Love is an action word. It’s demonstrated in our choices, not our emotions.  When the HoF character chooses to spare Loghain, they are making a decision that hurts Alistair.  Loghain is the man he blames for the loss of his family. My personal feelings about executing the man aside (I personally think that given time, Alistair could be talked down and into understanding your reasoning, but that’s neither here nor there, as it’s not an option we have in game), Alistair is entitled to that rage. His friend, his love, is refusing him the justice he feels owed. It would be akin to Alistair trying to stop Cousland from killing Howe, akin to telling Tabris to just let Vaughan Kendells free.  

Love should be sturdy, but that does not mean it can or should survive major differences like that.  I should include a disclaimer here that I have headcanoned my warden to spare Loghain and for Alistair to flounce and then come back later with an apology. Lol.  Sometimes you just gotta take canon and FIX IT. 

That’s just my two-cents. 

#meta #dragon age #alistair theirin #wow it's been a while #Anonymous

[tabikato]

Hero, Chapter 11

Read all chapters here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24980170/chapters/60475255

Standing at the lake's edge Hue breathed in the cool night air, wind gently tousling hair as stars rippled on the water. As if they were glowing fish flitting along the mirror surface. In the shadows of clouds stood the island tower, imposing in its height but with a feeling of loneliness. His idle thoughts trailed to what it would be like to live there, to never leave there...to remain inside and rarely feel the grass beneath his feet, the wind cooling his skin. Sounds of leaves gently playing their tune overhead, the chittering noise of an animal traveling through brush for its next meal or shelter. Without freedom...the thought alone suffocated his very soul, like ropes tightening across his body...threatening to cut off his blood, his air. Maybe if he had never known it he would not desire it so but even still, could that be called a life?

Whether he thought so or not was irrelevant, they were here to enlist the mages’ help to save Connor. The others were in the tavern behind, taking in what little rest they could after their travels here. It hadn’t been easy. Sibylle’s guess that Connor had been the one possessed was the right one, forced into the presence of a child whose face twisted in hellish delight. Not a face someone so young should ever sport. When the demon realised they were there to stop them, they sent a controlled Teagan and guards after the group, running to hide further in the castle. It didn’t take long to knock them out, setting Teagan’s mind back. Isolde begged them to save Connor, to free him from the demon now housed in his soul. Which seemed like an impossible task to him except…

Jowan had spoken up, offering his services to bring a mage into the Fade. There they could defeat the demon’s hold and free the boy without harming him. Of course it required a lot of lyrium and mages which they were short on but he could still perform...with blood magic. A willing sacrifice to die for Connor, to save him. Isolde immediately jumped at the chance...anything to save her son but Sibylle had stepped up. With a slap across the blood mage’s head, she took command of the situation easily, informing the group they could get the needed lyrium and mages at the Circle of Magi. It would be a week’s trip but Teagan and Alistair both agreed it was the better choice. Nobody had to die. Decision made, they left Jowan and Teagan to watch the boy and quickly headed towards the Circle, taking rest only when they really needed to.

“Ah, what a picturesque view. The whole imposing tower on the lake really must do wonders for tourism.”, a lean figure plopped down next to him, stretching his arms above his head and throwing a grin his way. Another odd bump in their road had been this man; Zevran. Odd how it was just two days ago but seemed more distant. The elf sat close by, breathing in the same air but chatted away about...anything really. It was like him and Alistair had this need to fill silence because the silence scared them for some reason. Not that Hue minded, listening to Zevran prattle on was relaxing in its own way, ironic since the man had tried to kill him. Crimson eyes looked over the other once more, taking in tan skin and brown eyes filled with as much mirth as his lips were. Wheat-coloured hair was tucked behind his ears, laying gently along the back of his neck. It stood in contrast against dark skin and the weathered green and brown of his armor, like the strands had soaked up lots of sun. Not gold like Sibylle's but it was still pretty in his eyes and looked soft. Another striking feature (which he had a lot of Hue mused) was the black tattoo along the left side of his face. It started at the end of his left brow and curved down in smooth lines along his cheek and ending at his jawline. Just one of others on his body, Zevran had said with a wink when Hue asked about it. It made him think back on how they met...

Zevran waited by the upturn cart, twirling an arrow between his fingers to pass the time. The other Crows hidden, checking their own weapons or idling about but eyes firmly on the path ahead. His job this time was rather simple; eliminate the stray Wardens and any who travel with them. Far be it from him to question why someone would want to kill off Wardens or hire this many Crow to do so, a job called for the best and that was why he was here. Luckily they had to wait no further as their bait walked up the path with the group in tow, a smile on her face that mirrored his. Amber eyes locked on to the red ones, suspicion turning to recognition but it was too late. With a signal of his hand, the group was surrounded by Crows and a log pushed to block their exit. It was fight or die. Angry red met him once again but this time he had pulled out his bow, arrow aimed right at the elf’s head.

“The Gray Warden dies here!”

With that sentence the battle was set, arrow released straight at Hue who...caught it without blinking and pulled out his own bow. Oh, shit...that was actually kind of sexy. Wait. The arrow that was meant to end the gray warden was now embedded in the cart next to his head, making him realise he was severely at a disadvantage with long range. No worries, he can close the gap. Pulling his daggers out, he gave them a twirl before rushing towards the shorter elf, dodging a few more arrows. Screams and explosions created a symphony to their fight and he swung both down above the other. Alas, the elf had thought to use his bow to block. It was a stalemate, he tried to kick the other in the chest but the slippery archer jumped back, dragging him along by the blades. When the other moved to retaliate Zevran also dodged, stumbling them both but eyes never left the other. Okay, he’s got this, he’ll simply sweep the other’s legs out and get him to the ground. Easy enough.

Or so he thought, what he hadn’t expected was the other man to let go of the bow, making him stumble forward. In mere seconds his blades hit armor and a forehead crashed into his, blurring his vision for the first shot. Another crack and it grew dark, body losing momentum as he crashed to the ground in a heap. The last thought that raced through his mind was what in Thedas did Wardens eat to have such hard heads?

He wasn’t sure how long he was out and honestly, he was pretty sure by this point he was dead. So when his eyes fluttered open he didn’t expect to see curious ruby-like eyes staring down at him. Hair in the colour of dandelion covered some of his face but it was close enough to his that Zevran could make out every inch. From the tanned skin marked with curving green tattoos, Dalish in nature now that he thought of it, to the sloping of the nose close to his. Hair stood up in places, poofed out in others but also cupped a handsome face. It looked soft as well as lips that were drawn in a rather charming frown. Close enough to see sweat gathered on smooth skin, the string of muscles on his neck taunt as he looked over the felled assassin. Huh. Maybe he did die after all.

“Mmm...what? I...oh.” Blinking again the sensation of pain firmly made itself known in his head, ah, “ I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.” His voice came out strained, not missing the snort of a laugh from the other.

“Nah, decided I wanted to torture you first.” That voice was...rather rough for such a youthful face. Gritty but not that deep and the grin was rather cheeky, baring teeth in a teasing manner. Huh, interesting.

“Oooh, so you kept me around to have a bit of fun, did you? Hmm.”, he grinned back before lifting up on his elbow with a grunt, “But the purpose behind torture is usually to interrogate, yes? In that case, despite the potential for fun, perhaps I’ll save you a bit of time and get right to the point.” Now that he was sitting up properly he gave the other elf sitting on his haunches another once over. Unfortunately the armor kept any illusions of his physique a mystery...ah, such a shame.

“Oh?”

“My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Gray Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.”

“Which I’m happy about.”

“Haha, I suppose you would be, yes.” Curious eyes kept trained on him, tilting his head a little as if trying to figure him out. Like a dog cocking their ears, cute.

“What are Antivan Crows?”

“They’re an order of assassins out of Antiva, highly respected and highly dangerous.” The pretty red-head behind the elf cut in but that only seemed to make the warden more visibly excited.

“You came all the way from Antiva?”

“Not precisely. I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.” A hum was his response, the unfiltered look of curiosity made him want to laugh. He had just tried to kill this man, failed of course, but honestly he should be showing more anger or caution about this.

“Why are you telling me everything?” At this innocently said question Zevran had to laugh.

“Why not? I wasn’t paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely.”

“Aren’t you at least loyal to the people paying you?”

“Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you’re done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.” Shifting to a more comfortable position he didn’t fail to see how curiosity seeped further in, making the elf lean in a bit more. Within this distance he could easily kill or kiss the man but odds were both actions would end with his life forfeit so he just settled on charm.

“I’m listening.”

“Are you actually entertaining this? He’s probably lying through his teeth Hue.” Ah, so the elf’s name was Hue, that’s an interesting name. The human in question wasn’t wrong in his caution but maybe the elf’s curiosity was too much or maybe this Hue felt he was useful somehow, either way he was given a chance and he was going to take it.

“Well, here’s the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.” Emotions read easily on Hue’s face; surprise was the first before melting into thoughtfulness. Luckily the man seemed rather strong because being that easy to read was a quick way to get yourself killed in certain situations. Hopefully they never have to set foot in Orlais.

“Serve me huh”, he chewed on those words before speaking again, “Can I expect the same kind of loyalty?” Zevran scoffed, fake offense lacing his tone.

“I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I...don’t come very well recommended, I suppose.” A chuckle exploded out of the shorter elf, breaking the rest of the tension between them.

“No worries there, I don’t expect you to die for me”, he tilts his head again, “what stops you from finishing the job later?” Ah, a fair question.

“To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child.” Brows drawn down; sadness, pity, good...so this one had a heart, “ I think I’ve paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can’t touch.”

“Me.”

“You. Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with you.” Plus Hue was much better to look at than his previous employers which was a bonus. And he didn’t expect him to die, talk about a lucky break.

“Won’t they come for you?”

“Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help.”, grabbing that arrow out from the air pretty much cemented that, “And if not...well, it’s not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?” The silence passed between them for a moment, rendering his earlier verdict of the elf being easy to read a bit moot. Honestly he had no idea what was going on behind those crimson eyes, whether this Hue would take the bait or simply determine everything he said was bullshit. Of course he was a master at keeping his cool, not showing an ounce of tension in his body as he stared back. This seemed to make the warden grin, a light chuckle passing his lips.

“You must think I’m royally stupid, huh?” Ah, so it was the latter. Which was a little irritating because he had been the most honest he’s ever been. Maybe he could double down, talk his way out of this...or whatever, what does he have to lose at this point.

“I think you’re royally tough to kill”, he grounded out before tilting his head slightly, “and utterly gorgeous. Not that you’ll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a handsome man.” Shrugging his shoulders he decided to screw it all and lay out all his honest thoughts, if he’s still killed after this then it is what it is. Bored eyes flickered back to the warden’s face and ah...oh. There was no mistaking the blush that coloured the other’s cheeks, eyes wide. When their gaze met Hue turned his away, adorably flustered, clearing his throat to gain back some control over his features. Now this was definitely interesting and if things worked out, a very alluring bonus.

“What do you want in return?” Hue was trying to be serious but the tone came out in almost a pout, what an innocent soul this one was.

“Well, let’s see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. And somewhere down the line if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

“And? What can you offer?”

“I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more...sophisticated...now that my attempts have failed.”, his grin grew bigger as he went on, “I also know a great many jokes. Twelve massage techniques, six different card games? I do wonderful at parties, no?”

“Okay, fine.” The warden raised up from his haunches, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally willed away the last of the blush.

“What?! You’re taking the assassin with us now?! Does that really seem like a good idea?” The human’s voice pitched up, waving his hand in Zevran’s general direction in disbelief. Hue blew some of his hair up, shrugging his shoulders at the other.

“He can be useful...besides, Gray Wardens enlist all help, right?” The other warden pouted a bit, seemingly trying to find a way to argue that but coming up empty.

“I suppose...I see your point.’, he sighed in resignation, “Still. If there was a sign we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.” Another chuckle from Hue, looking more relaxed at the other’s reluctant approval.

“Are we truly in need of him? I find it unwise to invite the reason you must sleep with one eye open along”, a dark-haired beauty spoke up from across the way, standing next to a rather gorgeous blonde. Well...he certainly did pick the best team to join, all the women here were exceptional beauties.

“I suppose if he did try to kill them again we could simply punish him”, this time the blonde spoke, arms slightly crossed underneath her chest. Hopefully that involved rope. A hand appeared in his view, trailing it up to his new employer...leader? Details weren’t really that important. He graciously took the hand, being pulled to his feet easy enough with a strong grip.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation...this I swear.” Gripping the hand back just as tight, he gave a firm shake to seal their oath. However, Hue didn’t let go right away, pulling Zevran closer in with a surprising amount of force until their noses were only inches apart, voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“You better be.” A feral grin graced his lips, soaking in Zevran’s surprised look before he let go and turned on his heel, signaling for the group to move out. Well, that was probably more sexy than the warden intended it to be. If he placed his bets he would probably guess Hue was trying to be intimidating to get back at him for earlier, however, it definitely wasn’t intimidation Zevran was feeling.

“Hey Hue”, looking up he saw the other warden address the other, making the elf turn back to them, “earlier in that fight, you grabbed that arrow right out of the air! How did you even do that?” Oh, yes, that. That was definitely a question Zevran would love to hear the answer to as well, it had certainly burned its way into his memory. Hue went rigid, lips a thin line as his eyes went a bit wide...why was he suddenly frightened like that?

“I...I thought I was gonna die and reacted”, words forced out, nerves colouring his pitched tone, “ I have no idea how I did that.” Zevran blinked; once, twice...so it was all just pure luck? Suddenly the other Warden belted out, holding his stomach from guffawing at Hue so hard. The chain reaction was instantaneous, Hue’s nervous expression melting into his own boisterous laugh. The red-head and blonde women chuckled behind their hands, very much amused with the situation whereas the other scoffed, rolling her eyes in boredom. The qunari also did not seem to find the humour in this, rubbing the bridge of his nose but everyone could feel that any lingering tension was gone. Gone was the battle from before, the bloodthirst, the killing. Now they laughed, the Wardens making jokes at the other as the group marched forward, with their new addition of course.

Which brought his thoughts back to the elf currently sitting by his side, eyes scanning over the clear surface in thought. Hue usually responded much better to his rambling, asking questions and eyes swimming with curiosity but now he seemed...introspective. Which is an odd state for him to be in if Zevran could tell from getting to know him the past few days; Hue’s curious and energetic nature was a driving force for all of them. Though he supposed that was unfair to say...even someone as extroverted as him would have times like this, yes?

“Zevran…” The Antivan perked up, Hue’s voice loud in the stillness of the night air.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Oh? This should be good. Go ahead”, elbow on his lifted knee, he put his cheek on his fist, looking over at Hue with a grin.

“Why did you want to leave the Crows?” He knew this question was coming, it was only natural the other would be curious. It wasn’t like he made it a secret that he hadn’t wanted to stay.

“Well, now, that’s a fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living at least as far as such things go.”, he shrugged lightly, “I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?”

“But what would you rather do?” He opened his mouth before closing it again, amber eyes studying the other’s face. Honestly...he had no idea, nobody had ever asked him that before or rather, nobody cared to. What he wanted out of his life never mattered in the long scheme of the Crows and his choices...those certainly hadn't mattered. Still, why was his mind drawing up such a blank...he could lie to most anyone but Hue’s innocently spoken words gave him pause. Maybe it was because nobody had ever shown genuine curiosity of who he was before...

“Now that you mention it, I am not entirely certain”, he breathed out, looking at the lake, “I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I’m told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn’t know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.”

“That sounds...awful”, his nose scrunched up, anger mixed with pity as he could see the gears turning in Hue’s head.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The Crows who are actually good enough to survive come to enjoy some of the benefits”, leaning back on his hands, he looked up at the stars with a chuckle, “In Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women...and men, or whatever it is you might fancy.” His eyes moved to the side, lingering on Hue’s with that last hurried sentence.

“Ah.”

“But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It’s a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty. But confining.”

“So you have no freedom…”

“My dear Warden, what is freedom anyway?” Hue turned to look at him, confusion on his face, “I suppose you have lived free with your emotions and choices and that is what you know to be so. But a bird raised in a cage only knows it’s cage, what is freedom to it other than death, yes?”

“No, a freed bird can learn to live outside its cage if it’s brave enough.”, he watched the Warden shift uncomfortably, eyes downcast, “though...I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to force it to. Is it wrong of me to think everyone deserves the freedom to choose whether to live in the cage or outside of it?” Zevran watched Hue’s gaze move to the ground, shifting his feet awkwardly in the dirt and he too felt awkward. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle Hue’s kind nature but it was nice to know that someone out in this world gave a damn.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.”, laying back on the ground, he put his arms behind his head, tracing the patterns in the sky above, “As for what I’ll do in the future...presuming that there is one...I truly can’t imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change. Far away from Antiva, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go.”

“I’m happy to have you along.”

“And here I am, happy to be had! Isn’t it wonderful how things work out that way?”, his laughter carried on the wind, making the ends of Hue’s lips quirk up in a smile, “now if only I had more things I fancied this would be a remarkable night.”

“Oh, what is it you fancy?” Hue snorted, looking down at the other amused.

“I fancy many things. I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting”, his eyes locked onto Hue’s, smirking, “Would you be offended if I said I fancied you?” Again that beautiful blush bloomed right over his cheeks, visible even in the dark and Zevran reveled in the way Hue flustered. It was such a stark contrast, to see the usually hyperactive man turn shy with just a few well-placed words.

“Not at all…”, came the murmured reply, lips turned down in a pout, “wait...you said you fancy all of that then you said me? Does that mean you think...I’m…?”

“What? Dangerous? Strong? Handsome enough to turn heads even in a Chantry? Surely you know all this, yes?” Zevran watched as Hue gaped, eyes wide as the blush started to spread down to his neck but he wasn’t hiding his gaze now. Instead he was turned where he could stare at the Antivan openly, floundering with thoughts that he couldn’t quite get out so he simply shook his head.

“I…”

“You?”

“I just…”, clearing his throat, he rubbed the back of his neck, a rather adorable expression on his face, “...I’ve been flirted with before but...nobody’s ever said so many things like that so honestly. I mean...is it honest?”

“I gain nothing to lie about this”, Zevran sat up, leaning in closer to the other with a smile, “besides, I know what I like and rather be honest about it. Life is too short to hide away like a cloister sister.”

“Hmmm...is everyone in Antiva like this?”

“Antivans are passionate by nature, yes, but I like to think I have an extra special something, hmmm?”

“Yea, you do”, Hue smiled back, shyness completely erased as he laid his chin on his knees, “you’re fun to be around Zevran and handsome too. I’m glad you sucked at killing me.” Cheekiness lit up crimson eyes as Zevran laughed, head thrown back in genuine mirth.

“I’m talented in many things but I could-”

“Suck well if given the chance?”

“You know me so well already.” Hue slapped Zevran gently on the thigh before both men dissolved into laughter. Tonight had been rather educational to say the least, now he knew his Warden was of a similar persuasion. Of course he’ll wait and see for more information but it would be an excellent opportunity between all the darkspawn and the killing if they could escape the world with a bit of fun. He’d love to see what other wonderfully open expressions the other could make in the right situations.

“We should join the others”, with a helping hand, he stood up and watched Hue walk to the tavern, staring very openly at his backend. Now if only he could convince the other to ditch the bulky armor for something much more...fitting.

Back in the tavern Hue joined up with the rest of his friends, sitting next to Alistair as Leliana was reciting yet another tale. He watched her eyes light up, showing such passion for the stories she weaved beautifully. Maybe one day there’d be tales of them and their adventures...hah, as if. Of course that’s not what he was there for, tapping Alistair on the shoulder to get his attention. Zevran came to sit nearby, listening to their lovely bard but not above eavesdropping on the two Wardens across from him.

“Here”, digging through his bag, he pulled out what looked like a pendant, handing it over.

“This...This is my mother’s amulet.”, Alistair handled it carefully, looking it over this way and that with awe, “ it has to be. But...why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“I found it when we were in Redcliffe castle”, he continued, ignoring the scolding the other was about to give, “in the study. Was trying to find some sort of handy explanation but found that instead.”

“The arl’s study?”

“Yea.”

“Then he must have...found the amulet after I threw it against the wall. And he repaired it and kept it?”, confusion creased his brows as he slowly turned it in his hands, “I don’t understand, why would he do that?”

“You probably meant more to him than you think”, Hue stole the tankard in front of Alistair, taking a swig as the human was engrossed with his thoughts. If he stared any harder he might just set the thing on fire.

“I...guess you could be right. We never really talked that much, and then the way I left…”, a shaky sigh left his lips before he shook his head, looking at Hue with fondness, “ Thank you. I mean it. I...thought I lost this in my own stupidity. I’ll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his…when he recovers, that is. I wish I’d had this a long time ago.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to help with your stupidity”, Alistair snorted at that, watching Hue’s grin grow as he drank.

“Did you actually remember me mentioning this?”, a nod from the elf, warmth blossoming in his chest, “Wow. I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”

“Huh? Sorry, did you say something?” An elbow met Hue’s side and he laughed, drinking the rest of the tankard before slamming it down. Zevran watched intently over his own drink; the playful, almost boyish nature of the two wardens. One wouldn’t imagine that these two were the only ones around who could stop this Blight but a childish nature is much more preferable to a leader who cares for no one. Which Hue cared, too much in his opinion, but he supposed that’s what the rest of them were here for. Taking care to protect that “flippantly careless nature” as Morrigan so lovingly called it.

“Hey! Hue, that was my drink!” He laughs when Hue jumps up out of his chair, moving across the table over to him with a wink to escape Alistair’s indignant tone. Things were going to be very, very interesting indeed.

#dragon age origins #dragon age #zevran arainai #zevran x mahariel #hue #fanfic #Tabi's writings

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke and the Inquisition: Moments of Happiness

Chapters 57 & 58 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) are up on AO3! Don’t be fooled, I took one long chapter and chopped it into two. Together they’re about ~10k words. 

In which Fenris and the crew pal around at the Winter Palace before the Exalted Council begins. Also known as the calm before the storm. 😭

Read on AO3 here. 

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

Hawke shook out another pair of trousers and hung them in the finely-carved armoire. “…and that passage made me think of that time when I tried to have you close the mark as though you were closing a rift, but that didn’t work. Which in retrospect was maybe a stupid suggestion since you can’t close a key with a key, if that even makes any sense.” She turned back to the cedar travelling chest containing their clothes. “Honestly though, all these Chantry-sanctioned treatises are worth shit for trying to figure this out. I wonder if it might be worth reaching out to Morrigan to see if she has any interesting ideas. At this point, I’d be willing to try anything to get that fucking mark off of you.”

“Mm,” Fenris said. “That’s a good idea.”

“You think so?” Hawke said. “Perhaps I’ll ask her if a little blood magic might remove it.”

“You could,” he said vaguely. 

She laughed. “Fenris! You aren’t even listening to me!” She threw a pair of socks at him, and when they bounced off of his book, he finally looked up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I… what were you saying?”

“I was trying to talk about the anchor,” she said pointedly. 

“Oh. Yes.” He glanced balefully at the mark. The lines of cursed light used to be contained in the main fissures of his palm, but they had started to spread over the last couple of months. Nowadays when the mark flared, its ghastly green light spread down to his wrist and almost all the way to his fingertips. 

He closed his hand and looked up at her. “Did you find something in your books?”

“Nothing earth-shattering yet.” She went back to hanging their clothes in the armoire. “I’m still trying to translate that one really old elven tome I found in the little library in Skyhold, but it’s extremely slow-going.” She paused in her unpacking and peered at him. “Are you all right? You’ve been awfully distracted since we left Kirkwall.” Her eyebrows rose with worry. “The mark isn’t hurting more than usual, is it?” 

“No. I’m well,” he assured her. “I was just thinking… you should eat more dark green vegetables.”

Her eyebrows jumped up, and she barked out a laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He tapped the book on his lap. “This book. It says that pregnant women should eat dark green vegetables three times a day.”

Hawke narrowed her eyes at the book, then wandered over to the couch where he was sitting. “Is that Enchanter Jolen’s compilation?”

“Yes,” he said. He showed her the book, which was titled Andraste’s Little Blessing: Rites and Rituals for Welcoming A New Child.

She handed the book back to him with a grin. “Well, that’s not a bad one. Although it does recommend that pregnant people should read the Chant of Light every night in thanks for the blessing of a child, and I’m sure as shit not doing that.”

He looked at her in dismay. “Is this book not a reputable source, then?”

“No no, it’s fine,” she said. “But we should dig up a copy of the Ralaferin clan’s writings if you really want to read up on pregnancy.”

“A Dalish text?” he said in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s much more down-to-earth,” Hawke said. “Though it doesn’t have the same modern medical suggestions. And it’ll be hard to get your hands on a copy, I studied from one that Merrill had back in the day…” She frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Actually, you can keep reading Andraste’s Little Blessings. It’s preachy and sort of privileged, but it’s fine.”

“All right,” he said warily. He watched her for a moment as she bustled back over to the bed and continued unpacking their clothes. 

He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should sit down. This book says that pregnant women–”

“–should spend as much time as possible on their asses doing nothing, right?” she interrupted.

“Er, yes,” he admitted. 

She shook her head in amusement, then sashayed over to him and closed the book. “Fenris, don’t fuss at me, all right? I promise I’ll relax when I need to. Besides, pregnancy is the easy bit. All I have to do is eat a lot, not drink too much wine, make sure no one bashes me in the stomach. That’s easy. The hard part is raising the kid when it comes out. You have no idea what sort of chaotic little monster you’re going to get.”

He slung one arm along the back of the couch. “Knowing you, it will chaos personified,” he said dryly.

She chuckled and playfully pinched his chin. “That’s the sweetest compliment I’ve had all day.”

He smirked, but he couldn’t help but study her smile. She sounded jocular, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was joking. 

He took her hand. “Since when does chaos disturb you?”

She snorted. “Since I’m responsible for raising it and making sure it doesn’t grow up into an asshole, of course.”

“We will be equally responsible for that,” he said firmly. “You are not doing any part of this alone.”

Her smile softened. “Such a smooth talker,” she said. “That’ll get you everywhere with me.” She slowly straddled his lap and draped her arms around his neck.

He gazed at her seriously. “This is not idle talk. I mean it. If anything scares or worries you about this, I need you to tell me.”

“Okay, okay,” she murmured. “I’ll tell you, I promise.” She placed a small chaste kiss on his lips. 

He parted his lips slightly, and Hawke followed his lead and kissed him more deeply. For a long, luxurious minute, Fenris leaned into her kiss, slowly sliding his palms up her thighs and over her hips, and as his thumbs circled her hipbones, she traced his lower lip with her tongue. 

A spike of interest stirred between his legs. When Hawke tilted her hips and pressed down against his groin, the interest surged more strongly still.

Then someone knocked on the door.

A palace servant’s voice called out. “Inquisitor? The delegates from Orlais and Ferelden have been asking if you require assistance.”

Fenris dropped his head back on the couch in frustration, and Hawke sighed. “That means they’re wondering what’s taking you so long to come out and mingle,” she said. 

He nodded in resignation, then called out to the servant. “No assistance is necessary,” he said. He tilted Hawke’s chin down and kissed her firmly, then lifted her off of his lap. “We will continue this later,” he warned. 

She grinned at him as she rose from the couch. “Ooh, I hope that’s a promise.” She peeled off her shirt and winked at him before sauntering over to the armoire to change. 

He tore his eyes away from her swaying hips and roughly adjusted himself before changing into a more formal shirt and jacket. A few minutes later, he and Hawke were strolling through the chattering crowds of nobles toward the upper level of the palace.

As soon as they reached the upper level, they spotted Cassandra standing with an older Fereldan man. She was impossible to miss, really, given her obscenely tall hat. The second she laid eyes on them, her face lit up. 

Hawke chuckled. “Someone looks in need of rescuing from some very dull company.”

He gave her a chiding look. “Don’t say anything to get her in trouble.”

She widened her eyes. “Me? Get someone in trouble? I would never.” Her eyes were twinkling with mischief, however, and Cassandra also seemed to notice Hawke’s shit-eating grin, as she quickly greeted them before they could say a word.  

“Inquisitor. Champion. It is good to see you both.” She gestured to the stern-faced man at her side. “This is Arl Teagan of Redcliffe. He represents Ferelden at the summit.”

“Oh, lovely!” Hawke said. “How is Alistair doing? Still as handsome as ever, I trust?”

Teagan frowned. “I suppose, though that is hardly important.” He nodded to Fenris. “Inquisitor. Good to meet you.”

“You as well,” Fenris said politely. He glanced briefly at Cassandra, who pulled a tiny apologetic face.

Thankfully, Hawke lightened the dour mood. “Forgive me, I have to ask – Arl Teagan, I understand that you’re a fan of the Grand Tourney. You’re a great rider yourself, aren’t you?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I was, once. I am too busy running the bannorn now, as I’m sure you can understand.”

She blinked innocently. “Oh, but you must have been something to see in your riding days! Would you be so kind as to tell me a tale or two?” 

His scowl deepened. Then he harrumphed. “I suppose I could spare a moment for a story.” 

“Wonderful!” Hawke simpered. She linked her arm with Teagan’s, then winked at Cassandra and Fenris before pulling him away. 

Cassandra shook her head fondly. “She is the same as always,” she said. “Charming almost to a fault. I am happy to see it.”

Fenris nodded; Cassandra’s assessment was accurate, after all. “You look well,” he said. “From what I can see of you, that is.” He glanced in amusement at her outfit.

She made a disgusted noise. “I will never grow accustomed to these trappings, I swear.”

Fenris smirked. “Based on that letter you sent, I understand you’re especially fond of the hat.”

Cassandra shot him a sideways smile. “You got that letter before you left Kirkwall, then? I am glad. I hope Varric enjoyed it.”

Fenris huffed in amusement. “He did, yes.” He declined to tell her that her overused copy of Swords and Shields had been mentioned in the letter.

Cassandra smiled more widely, then sighed. “I suppose we should discuss the Exalted Council. I am supposed to be impartial while speaking for the Chantry, but I confess that neutrality is beyond me. I may be the Divine, but I will always be your friend, and I can hardly ignore the fate of the Inquisition that I began.”

Fenris nodded. When he and Hawke had arrived this morning, Josephine and Leliana had given them the full run-down of the situation, which could be summarized in two sentences: Orlais wanted to acquire the Inquisition as a vassal and thus acquire their power and army, and Ferelden wanted to disband the Inquisition completely. 

“The delegates are short-sighted and selfish,” Cassandra said brusquely. “They do not see the full scope of what you have done these past few years. The Inquisition is still needed. They do not yet understand that.”

Fenris shrugged and glanced around at the assembled nobles and politicians. He hadn’t yet told Cassandra that he’d been planning to quit the Inquisition anyway before the Exalted Council had been announced. 

“We shall see what happens, I suppose,” he said. Personally, dissolving the Inquisition didn’t seem like a totally undesirable result to him. From the most selfish perspective, it would mean that Fenris would finally be free. From a more logical perspective, however, he truly felt that the Inquisition had served its primary purpose, and the more involved they got in political affairs, the more they would be stepping beyond their bounds. In his more bitter moments, Fenris sometimes felt like the Inquisition was becoming the way Solas described the making of a demon: like it was being twisted away from its original purpose into something else entirely. 

And Fenris did not like the idea of the Inquisition becoming so twisted that it was no longer recognizable. 

Cassandra peered at him carefully. “Are you all right, my friend? You seem troubled. Not that you have no reason to be. I mean–” She winced. “That was hardly comforting. I apologize, Fenris, I wish only to express my concern.”

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “I’m better than expected given the situation.” He thought of Hawke’s pregnancy, and his belly jumped in a happy – and nervous – way.

She looked at him in surprise. “That’s… that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” She sighed again. “I must return to mingling with the bureaucrats. But if you need me, I’m ready to assist. Unconditionally.”

Fenris gave her a small half-bow. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”

She snorted at the formal title. “You are welcome, Inquisitor.”

He smiled at her jab, then looked around for Hawke and Teagan. The Arl was embroiled in a discussion with some other Fereldans, so Fenris quickly slipped into the crowd before Teagan could corner him. 

A moment later, he saw Hawke standing with – of all people – Dorian. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, equally pleased and surprised. He hadn’t expected Dorian to be here. As he approached them, he realized that Hawke and Dorian were speaking with an Orlesian man, and that Hawke seemed to be flirting with the Orlesian, much to Dorian’s barely suppressed amusement. 

Hawke smiled seductively at the Orlesian. “...and I can only imagine that your control over the Chateau is much firmer than your father’s,” she said. She slid her gaze slowly over the length of his body. “Hmm, very firm indeed.”

“That is kind of you to say, Serrah Hawke,” the Orlesian said coolly. “It is only unfortunate that my governance of the Chateau is a result of you killing my father.”

What? Fenris thought in alarm. But Hawke only batted her eyelashes. “Oh no, my lord, that’s not true.”

“I believe the truth is quite clear, Champion,” the Orlesian retorted. “If I recall correctly, I appeared on the scene to find two dozen bloody qunari corpses and my father crushed beneath his pet wyvern at the base of a cliff.”

Fenris stared at him. Now that was a familiar story. 

Hawke blinked innocently. “I promise you, my lord, it wasn’t my doing. It was the wyvern. I do believe the poor beast was rabid.” She turned to Fenris with a smile. “Fenris, you’re just in time. This is Duke Cyril de Montfort.”

“All right,” Fenris said warily.

“He’s the Duke of Chateau Haine,” Hawke said sweetly. Too sweetly. 

And suddenly Fenris realized who this man was. He was the son of that filthy Duke Prosper – the Duke that Fenris himself had booted off the edge of the cliff for calling Hawke a whore. 

“Ah,” he said. “Er…”

“Inquisitor,” Cyril said with a deep bow. “Your lady wife was just reminding me of our shared past. She appears to have forgotten that she was responsible for my father’s untimely demise at our chateau a few years ago. Were you aware of this?”

Fenris hesitated. Cyril clearly didn’t realize that Fenris had also been present at that party. Not surprising, perhaps, since he and Anders had been skulking around in the corners trying ineffectually to sneak into the castle. 

“I am aware that there was a situation at Chateau Haine a few years ago,” Fenris said carefully. “It’s fortunate that you were capable of stepping seamlessly into your late father’s shoes.”

“Exactly what I was thinking!” Hawke said brightly. “And what handsome and large shoes they are.”

Cyril cleared his throat and smoothed a hand along the front of his doublet. “You are not wrong,” he said. “The Montforts pride ourselves on being very capable leaders. And very good judges of character.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Fenris said. He turned to Dorian. “A word, Lord Pavus?”

“Certainly, Inquisitor,” Dorian said. As Dorian and Fenris moved away, Hawke continued to shamelessly flirt with Cyril. “My lord, I must ask – did you have those shoes custom-made for your size? You know what they say about men with large shoes…” 

Dorian smirked at Fenris, and they chuckled. “She never gives up, does she?” Dorian said quietly.

“Never,” Fenris said, with an affectionate glance at Hawke. He clasped Dorian’s hand in welcome. “It’s good to see you. But what are you even doing here?” In order to be here now, Dorian would only have been back in the Imperium for a few weeks after their trip to the Frostback Basin. Had he been chased out of Tevinter again by a new batch of assassination attempts?

Dorian tutted. “Did Josephine not tell you? Terribly remiss of her. I am the Tevinter ambassador to the Exalted Council, at your service.” 

Fenris raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Tevinter ambassador?”

“Yes indeed,” Dorian said cheerfully. “‘A reward for my interest in the south’, if you can believe it.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “A convenient excuse to get rid of you because you are making too much noise in Minrathous, then.”

Dorian threw his head back and laughed. “Ah Fenris, how I’ve missed your subtlety. But yes, you’re right. It’s a token appointment, so consider me at your disposal.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes. “Hmm,” he said. 

 “Oh dear, you’re wearing the face that says you’re thinking,” Dorian said. “Don’t hurt yourself, now.”

Fenris gave him a chiding look. “If you really were just causing too much trouble in Minrathous, they would have killed you. Why send you away?”

Dorian’s smile faltered for a split second. Then he laughed. “You know, it’s both endearing and obnoxious that you’re from home. There’s just no hiding anything from you.”

Fenris waited in silence, and finally Dorian sighed. “My father is dead,” he said bluntly. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows as Dorian went on. “Assassinated, I believe. I received notice this morning: a perversely cheerful letter congratulating me on assuming his seat in the Magisterium.” He shook his head slightly. “We only met a few times while I was home. He didn’t say anything about keeping me as his heir. This ‘ambassadorship’ was his doing. He must have wanted me away when the trouble began.” 

“So you are truly a magister now,” Fenris said slowly. 

“I certainly am,” Dorian said pleasantly. “I can’t wait to degrade the Magisterium with my presence! A new outfit is required.” 

He wasn’t meeting Fenris’s eye. Fenris studied him shrewdly for a moment before speaking. “How do you feel about this appointment?”

“It’s both a blessing and a curse, pardon the trite cliché,” Dorian said. “But I won’t be entirely without support, as you know. Maevaris and I have been whipping the Lucerni into shape, and now we’ll be an actual faction in the Magisterium. I’ll teach them manners, take them shopping… it will be fun!”

Fenris eyed him appraisingly. “I expect you’ll be busy on your return home, then.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “First item on the agenda will be finding my father’s killers and killing them back. Then I’ll find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them. They’re most likely the same people, so that should make the job easier.”

“I see,” Fenris said.

Dorian tsked. “Now Fenris, I know what you’re thinking. The power is going to go to my head and turn me into an abomination and so on.” He delicately arranged a lock of his hair. “I’ll have you know that being an abomination would make me terribly unattractive, so I’ll continue to be my usual principled and heroic self, don’t you worry.” 

Dorian’s blasé attitude and his lack of eye contact… Fenris gazed at him with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, then folded his arms and leaned back against the banister. “That’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking that I am sorry for your father’s loss.”

Dorian looked at him with open surprise, and Fenris shrugged. “He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you were… fond of him. For that, I am sorry.”

 Dorian stared at him for a moment longer, then let out a little laugh. “That was very nearly nice, thank you.” He sighed and twisted one of his rings. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

“You just received the news this morning,” Fenris reasoned. “I suspect it will be some time before it sinks in.”

“Yes, of course. I just…” He trailed off and turned around to face the sprawling palace below, and they were silent for a moment.

Fenris broke the silence. “I am also sorry for the weight of the mantle you are about to assume. It will not be easy. Especially not given… well, everything about the Imperium.”

“I know,” Dorian said softly. He shot Fenris a small smile. “Luckily, I’m not a fan of the easy route. Why else do you think I stay friends with you?”

Fenris snorted. Then Hawke skipped over to them and hugged Dorian from behind. “An overdue hug for my favourite magister!” she chirped. 

“He told you his news, then?” Fenris said.

“Yes!” she said brightly. “And I told him we need to have a party tonight to celebrate.”

Fenris frowned. “To celebrate what, exactly?” As far as he was concerned, nothing that Dorian had told them was good news.

Hawke poked his belly. “To celebrate the Tevinter Imperium automatically becoming a better place with Dorian as one of the boys in charge, of course,” she exclaimed. “We’re going to call it a Gird-Your-Loins Party, because Tevinter had better–”

“–gird their loins for Dorian’s rising status,” Fenris said dryly. “I see. Well, I suppose a small party in our suite…” He trailed off; Hawke was smiling sheepishly.

He gave her a stern look. “What did you do?”

Dorian snickered, and Hawke lifted one shoulder in a coy manner. “I might already have sent someone to tell Josie to book that fancy spa area downstairs for the party.”

“What?” Fenris blurted. “No. We can’t have a party there. That’s far too public.”

Dorian lightly smacked his arm. “Ashamed to celebrate with the fresh new magister, are you?”

Fenris frowned at him. “That is not why.” He turned to Hawke and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to… Celebrating with all of these strangers around is not my idea of a good time.”

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly. “But we’ll start the party in the spa area, then move it to our suite when you’re ready to get drunk.”

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “If the party will end up in our suite, why are you insistent on starting it in the public spa?”

“Because it’s public,” Hawke said. “It’s strategic and fun, you see? If we have an enormous lovely Inquisition party and make friends with all the Orlesians and Fereldans, they won’t speak against us because they’ll love us so much!”

Fenris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was just like her to assume that making friends was the solution. “Hawke…”

She cut him off. “Sorry, Fenris, I have to go tell Josie more details about the party,” she chirped. She kissed his cheek and started to leave, then stopped and snapped her fingers. “Oh, by the way, I buttered up that Duke Cyril fellow for you. He’s not angry about the whole Chateau Haine thing anymore, but I might have made him climax in his trousers.”

Dorian broke into incredulous coughing, and Fenris gaped at her. “Excuse me?” he demanded.

She held up her hands. “I didn’t touch him, I swear. I think he’s just kinky that way. I’ll tell you more later!” She hurried away through the crowd.

“Please don’t,” Fenris called after her. 

Dorian, meanwhile, was laughing fit to burst. “Andraste’s ample bosom, I will miss you marvelous fools. I would say you should visit, but–”

“That will never happen,” Fenris said flatly.

“I wasn’t truly going to ask,” Dorian said. “It would be far too dangerous for you, anyway. But I do think I might have a solution, which I’ll show you later.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, unsure what he meant by this. “All right. I suppose I’ll look forward to that.”

“Good. You should,” Dorian said cryptically. He stepped away from the banister. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have very busy and important business with Varric.”

Fenris huffed in amusement. “Pray tell.”

Dorian grinned. “A running bet on how long it will take before Cassandra threatens someone during the Council. Do you want in?”

Fenris hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll bet five royals that she doesn’t threaten anyone and retains her calm.”

Dorian shook his head in mock dismay. “I can’t decide if that’s adorably loyal to Cassandra, or utterly foolish. You’re on.”

Fenris smirked, and they parted ways. Dorian made a beeline for Varric, and Fenris made his way through the lower courtyard to see if he could take refuge with any other familiar faces.

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

Read the second half of the banter here on AO3!

#fenris #fenris fic #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenrynne #trespasser dlc #pikapeppa writes

[lockewrites]

For the DADWC: “Stay here tonight.” with the pairing of your choice!

From this prompt for @dadrunkwriting

Warden x Alistair || SFW || 1294 wordsAO3 & FF

Alistair comforts Genevyve after dealing with the near-destruction of the Ferelden Circle.

To be so close but still outside of Kinloch Hold was strange, like she was a young girl who’d run away from home and hid in a little fort just behind the house. Genevyve tossed and turned in her bed, unable to settle her mind enough to even think of sleeping. Frustrated, she got up and crept through the docks’ inn and out the front door.

The night was draped in a heavy fog that crawled across the lake and to the Circle tower. It was eerie and unsettling, but she was already in such a disturbed state of mind, it mattered little. Genevyve wandered along the road between the inn and the docks until she reached damp wood and sat down.

Her feet dangled over the edge, the toes of her boots just barely skimming the water’s surface. She looked out across the lake and at the imposing tower.

Never did she imagine she would see her home, for lack of a better word, flooded with abominations and Templars so eager to eradicate every last mage under their watch. Never had she seen Greagoir so hateful or Cullen so… 

She shook her head. Death piled upon death; those she had grown up with, spent her entire life with, dead. Some felled by their fellow mages-turned-abomination, others by the Templars who embraced the chance to slay “dangerous” mages.

Her eyes burned as tears welled up and spilled onto her cheeks. Genevyve wiped the back of her hand under one of her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice asked from behind her.

Genevyve shook her head.

“I don’t blame you,” Alistair said, sitting beside her. “It can’t have been easy to see the Circle like that.”

She gave a sharp laugh. “What do you mean?” she asked. “The Circle’s always been full of Templars just waiting for a reason to kill mages and mages looking for an excuse to turn into abominations and exact revenge on the Templars.”

Genevyve wiped her eyes again.

Alistair lifted his arm, as if to wrap around, but seemed to think better of it as he returned it to rest on his leg. His feet kicked at the water as the two of them sat in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m just… you’re right. It wasn’t easy to see that.”

“I understand,” Alistair said, glancing at her.

She didn’t return his look, rather she remained fixated on the tower. She wanted to tell him he didn’t, he couldn’t understand. She wanted to argue that, yes his fellow Wardens died, but he didn’t watch them die. He didn’t have to kill some of them himself. He didn’t lose the people he grew up with: he had only been a Warden for a year. These people had been her family. This had been her home.

But he didn’t deserve such malice. He’d come to comfort her, and she was simply in too much pain to readily accept it.

Too long had passed with no word from her, but she could think of nothing to say that wasn’t fueled by anger and despair.

“Is there…” Alistair began, seemingly pondering his words. “How can I help? Is there anything I can say? Anything I can do? I’m… I’m at a loss, but I want to help.”

With another deep breath, Genevyve tried to push her unkind thoughts aside. She looked at Alistair, meeting his eyes and finding them full of sincerity, and she felt a guilty twist in her gut.

“Not sure I deserve it,” she muttered. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Rather than answer, Genevyve let her head fall against his shoulder. As though taking it as permission, Alistair wrapped his arm around her, giving her a soft squeeze.

“I wonder,” she began, “if I should’ve allowed Jowan to perform the ritual.”

Alistair tensed beside her, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I couldn’t have cared less that it involved blood magic,” she continued. “I was just afraid the arl would refuse to help us if we let the arlessa die. But she was willing… and who knows how many of Redcliffe’s people have died since we left. Having to travel here, and then having to clear the Circle? We’ve been gone for so long.”

“I’m sure the others have been handling things,” Alistair assured. “Leliana is probably working with Teagan to protect those that can’t fight. And Morrigan and Sten probably have a disturbing amount of fun killing those walking corpses.”

Genevyve chuckled, but Alistair’s lighthearted words weren’t enough to settle her mind.

“Maybe I should’ve sent Morrigan to convince the Circle the help us,” she said, shaking her head.

“That would’ve guaranteed Redcliffe’s destruction,” he said. “She would’ve pissed off the Templars, and they would’ve destroyed Redcliffe themselves in retaliation.”

She let out an actual laugh this time.

“You made the right choice,” Alistair said. “The Circle needed us anyway.”

“Not everyone would agree,” she replied. “I think Cullen would’ve preferred it if we hadn’t shown up. He would’ve wanted the Right of Annulment invoked.”

“You know him well?” Alistair asked.

“I thought I did,” she said, casting her gaze downward. “I never would’ve thought him capable of being so hateful. He came to the Circle about a year ago, and he’d been one of the kindest Templars. And I… cared for him.”

Geneviye lifted her head, and Alistair let his arm fall from her shoulder.

“We should get some sleep,” she said.

“Yes, we should.”

Alistair pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out to help Genevyve up. He held his arm out for her to take, offering with it a goofy grin. She took it and smiled at him, feeling a little lighter after speaking with him, even if she didn’t share all of what was on her mind.

He led her back to the inn and to her room.

“Stay here tonight,” Genevyve blurted.

Her cheeks burst into a deep shade of red as she realized what she’d said. Alistair’s own did the same, just as deep despite his darker skin tone.

“Y-you want me to…”

“I meant, uh,” she stammered, “i-if you’re comfortable… I don’t, uh, I don’t want to be alone.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” Alistair asked, his voice cracking a bit.

She waved her hands in front of her.

“Not like that!” she said. “I meant actual sleep. Forget it. It was a stupid thing to ask.”

Alistair adamantly shook his head. “No, no,” he said. “It’s fine. I can… I’ll stay with you. I did say I wanted to help.”

His voice lost some of its panic, and he stepped further into the room, stopping beside the bed. Genevyve hesitated, but she too moved toward the bed and clumsily climbed under the blanket. Once she was situated, she held the covers open to invite Alistair into the too-small bed.

Crawling in beside her, Alistair adjusted himself to try and fit comfortably. Genevyve turned to her side, giving him just a little bit more room. No matter how far to the edge she clung, her body rested against his, and there seemed to be no avoiding it.

‘Are you… are you comfortable?” he asked.

Genevyve nodded. “Thank you, Alistair.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. 

He continued tweaking his position. After a moment, he added, “I’m not really sure where to put my arm.”

In an act of boldness, Genevyve took his hand and pulled it across her torso.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded, rustling their shared pillow.

Genevyve closed her eyes and tried to use the awkwardness she felt as a means of distracting her from the nightmare of the Circle. Eventually, she slipped into sleep.

#alistair #alistair theirin #warden #amell #alistair x warden #dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #da fanfic #fic: gadrabble #//thanks for the prompt! #ship: the thrill of how alone we are #genevyve amell #da #alxxiis actually wrote something

[rxdonmyledger]

Coming home

Summary:  Sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes you want to forget. But sometimes you just need someone who you can call home.

This was not one of my best summaries, I'll admit. But we all love a sassy and cute Alistair.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or their characters/lore/story.

I hope you enjoy it. I think we all have a thing for this sweet puppy. I tried to keep my female Amell without description except for the hair, so anyone can immerse themselves in the story.  I do not ask anything but if you want to support my writing and my economic situation, I could give you my Ko-fi! Thank you in advance. Anyway, enjoy my stories!

Besides, I’m not as active as I used to be here but if you want to keep reading my stories you can find me in my AO3 account. I am currently working on a Loki x Natasha fanfic if you want to read it!

The sunset turned the sky into a purple mantle that covered Denerim. The voices of the last merchants in the market echoed in the void. It could be possible to hear a fainted reminder of the Elf Alienage.

Another day passed.

He sighed and looked at his cup of wine, twirling it so the liquid caressed the inside. He was wearing simpler clothes than he was used to, the mantle long forgotten in his wooden chest, in the room. It was a weight on his shoulders he did not want to carry. At least not when he had the opportunity to be alone.

Claiming Ferelden’s throne had never been in his mind. In his own opinion, he was the last person capable of giving orders. Or leading. Maker, he didn’t even feel capable to lead the Mabari during his Blight days. And yet, it seems that it had not been his choice. It never was. Neither was his marriage to Anora.

Anora.

He snorted as he thought of his wife, emptying the cup before filling it again. The sweet smell of wine calmed his senses and he leant against the stone banister. One of the rooms near his had the windows open and he could hear the maids talking and chuckling, trying to muffle their sounds. He smiled at it, trying to remember when everything was easier. When he was a child, running down the halls of Redcliffe, or when he was a young man, training to be a templar.

His mind wandered to his wife again. Anora. How could someone describe Anora? Well, she was ambitious. She was determined and knew how she wanted things to be done. And she knew how to have them done. She was strong and she knew how to rule a country, that was out of question. Actually, she had been doing it for years while she was married to Cailan.

Yet, he didn’t like her. They got on well in the end, after a quite…difficult start in their marriage. The idea of beheading her father was a tricky matter. Yet, in the end he had learnt plenty of qualities from her and Eamon. How to rule, how to be a tactician. He could be well-versed in war and battlefield, but she was an expert politician and she knew how to manipulate those arrogant noble people to act on Ferelden’s benefit. He had to admit that.

She was good.

They were not close friends. But they respected each other and tried to improve their relationship. They would never be lovers, they both knew that. But the alliance had been better than they had expected.

Up to this time, he was still confused with her decision. The night he had come to his chambers and asked him to marry Anora if he wanted to go on with his birthright as Maric’s son and Ferelden’s heir. He had been astonished and he remembered himself standing in the middle of the room, the fire with a glowing orange light that outlined her figure, leaning against the fireplace. Maker, it seemed her ginger hair was on fire too.

“Don’t you…don’t you love me?”

Oh, sweet Andraste. The deeply sad smile she had forced in her beautiful lips. The way her shiny eyes had gone over his own face, as if he were still a child who needed to learn more about the real world. Probably that was the most probable option.

“I’m doing this because I love you, idiot” she replied with a faint voice and a playful tone. “Do you think you’d be allowed to marry someone…well, someone like me?”

Yes, he was an idiot. An idiot in love who thought that would be enough. But sometimes, desire was not enough. And then Morrigan’s thing had come. Maker, he hated when his mind wandered to that night.

What he remembered perfectly was him going back to his own chamber, finding her sitting on the bed, back against the headboard and hugging her knees. Seeing her like that broke his heart. His mind was blank, and he just approached the bed, laying on the soft mattress, too good to be real, after years of sleeping on a bedroll or the ground. She just laid by his side and opened her arms, as she always did, welcoming him. Her whole body surrounded him, and her hands rubbed his hair the way he loved.

They had made love. Slowly. Intimately. He wanted to erase every single rest of Morrigan’s touch. And she was the only one capable of doing that. Nobody knew what would happen. Would they defeat the Archdemon? Would they survive? Or would the world immerse in a future of darkness and despair?

If they had to die, at least they would live first. Together.

At first, he had his doubts about keeping her as his…Maker, he hated that word. Mistress. She did not deserve that. He wanted to be with her, marry her. Yet, she had been terribly pragmatic as always. Even Anora agreed with the deal, claiming Cailan had his own lovers. At least she would like this one.

It was done.

The arranged marriage was made public in the Landsmeet, after she had defeated Anora’s father, punishing him for his crimes. He thought about Loghain sometimes. He had betrayed his king and fellow warriors. He had committed treason. And yet, he had been helpful and valuable to Ferelden for years. Time had passed and he sometimes considered if it was the right thing to do.

He had made a speech and promised to come back to marry Anora after fighting the Blight. Everyone had celebrated the coronation of a Theirin heir. But his mind was not on the speech or the people who listened to him. He was like a tranquil, repeating the words that had been handed to him. His eyes wandered on those surrounding him, looking for his companions.

But they were nowhere in sight. And that broke his heart. Specially when it came to her.

He was alone in this.

Yet, he didn’t blame them. His companions had followed her to the fight. She was the natural leader, a sweet-caring woman with the rage of a dragon that could sew a mouth with her magic, a simple movement of her long fingers. She loved him, and he understood it was not easy to her to watch the man she loved marrying another woman, even if their relationship was going to continue.

He sighed and heard a soft knock on his door, followed by the creaking of the wood. He didn’t turn. It was probably Helena or one of the maids with his dinner.

“Leave it on the table. I’m not that hungry now”

But a king must be strong and healthy. You must eat something.

He could hear Eamon’s and Teagan’s voice in his mind. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts while the sun started to disappear in the horizon. The night was calm and silent. And that was when he noticed.

Too silent.

He had not heard the maid leaving the room and a shiver ran down his spine. His hand left the cup of wine with deliberate movements and went for the dagger in his belt, prepared to defend himself from the threat. Even if he was not a fighter anymore, he was still skilled and prepared. Strong and fast, ready to attack.

Suddenly, a painless aura seemed to envelop his body and he discovered with fear that he couldn’t move a single inch. He tried to resist, to wriggle and escape from that magic prison. Maker’s sake, he hated that. Magic was something that kind of admired but feared, knowing he could be powerless in a battle with a mage.

Then he heard it. A chuckle.

Her chuckle.

“Alistair Theirin. I’m surprised you let me defeat you so easily” Her voice. Soft like silk sheets. Like a Sunday morning with the sun peeking through the curtains. Even in his state, without looking at her, Alistair could notice she was grinning.

“Eyra” The feeling of her magic surrounding him disappeared and he sighed, rubbing his muscles before turning.

There she was. With her light purple tattoos on her face. Her red hair framing her beautiful features and her clothes, typical of a mage. She never felt comfortable with the heavy Grey Wardens clothes. She always said they made her feel slow.

Memories hit him as if someone had punched him in the stomach. The first time he saw her when she was a mere recruit, brought by Duncan from the Circle after doing only the Maker knew what. The way they had survived, how he had hugged her when she appeared from the inside of Flemeth’s house. Camp nights, telling stories and mocking the other.

Their first kiss. Their first…Oh, sweet Maker.

Eyra approached the man with a smile and the air was cut from their lungs. Even if she kept her façade, she was as nervous as he was. It had been too many years. A long time separated from each other.

“I…I…” he stuttered, and she laughed, watching as blush crept from his neck to his cheeks before his lips twitched in that boyish smile she loved. The way she could make him nervous was unbelievable.

“You…you” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest before Alistair ran and picked her up, making her to scream. “Alistair, no!”

They twirled and laughed, not caring about anybody hearing them. They knew. Everybody knew about their king being in love with the Commander of the Grey Wardens and they did not care. Anora and him were good, so what?

“I can’t believe you are here!” he exclaimed, burying his fingers and face on her hair. She still smelled like blueberries. “Unless I fell from the balcony and I hit my head. That could be a possible reason as well”

“It seems you are the same idiot I left here” Eyra replied with a smile, nuzzling her face on his shoulder, resting her body against his. His hands went to her waist and he chuckled, the vibrations rumbling against her chest.

“C’mon. You love it”

“Just because I have no choice with you it doesn’t mean I love you”

“Ahhhhhh, you said it. You said you love me” Alistair started to pinch her and hit her with his index finger, only for her to laugh and try to escape from his strong grip.

“Maker’s breath, you’re the king of Ferelden. Behave!”

“That’s why I can allow myself to misbehave”

“You are unsufferable” She replied, and Alistair stared at her. The last sunrays made her hair shine. It was like a fire, threatening to consume him all. Her sweet smile and her lovely eyes on his own. “How you have you been here?”

“A few hours”

“What? And you didn’t come to see me?”

“I was having tea with Anora”

Alistair’s face was priceless at this information and Eyra chuckled, walking inside the room and taking off his cloak, tossing it on a chair. The man followed her like a puppy, and he moved his hands in an exaggerated manner.

“Are you telling me you went to have tea with my wife before coming to see me?” Eyra bit her lip and nodded, smiling like a child. Alistair huffed and feigned indignation. “My wife and my lover together! I can’t believe! Having tea and pastries without me”

“Don’t forget the cake, dear”

“Of course! You had cake without me! I despise you, Mage” he added with a voice that was intended to sound cruel and mischievous but failed in the attempt.

Both women had forged a bond over the years. Eyra had admitted Anora’s qualities as a queen and Anora was surprised with her work as the Commander of the Grey Wardens and her title as Arlessa of Amaranthine. When some political matters had to be discussed, Eyra usually went to Anora and the queen looked for her advice when necessary. All of this under the astonished gaze of Alistair, who could not believe it.

“Cailan had his affairs, dear” Anora had said one night they were having dinner together. “I don’t mind you having one. Especially if you truly love her. I can’t blame you and this political situation. Besides, she’s an exquisite person. A natural leader and an incredibly talented mage”

Maker, he had not only one but two pragmatical women.

“Did you even bring me a piece, at least?” Eyra pointed at the tray with her head and Alistair grinned like a child. “Andraste’s breath, I love you. Did I say that? Yes? Good”

“You love me because I brought you cake?”

“AND cheese!” Alistair exclaimed, raising his plate before taking a mouthful of food, much to Eyra’s disgust.

“Honestly, my mabari has better manners than you while eating”

“But I smell better”

“Well” Eyra scrunched her nose. “You are levelled with him”

“Hey! Don’t hurt my manly feelings, you woman!” Eyra raised her hands, smiling and took the fork to grab some food.

Time passed and both enjoyed a delightful dinner. It was summer and the balcony’s door was open, allowing the soft night breeze coming into the room. The candles lightened Eyra’s face and made her eyes shine with sparkles. Even her tattoos seemed brighter. Alistair had his chin on his hand, listening to her stories about how she had wandered around the world.

“Honestly, I thought that beast was going to bite me” she finished with a chuckle, shaking her head and taking her cup to drink. Before it took her lips, Eyra smiled sweetly at her lover’s gaze. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…I missed this. I missed you” Alistair grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles, one by one, making her giggling. His brown eyes looked at her intensely. “Did you…come here to tell something about…?

He didn’t even finish the sentence before she shook her head. Eyra already knew what the question was.  The reason why she had left Amaranthine to go all over Thedas. The reason why Alistair and the mage had been separated for years.

He knew he was pressured to have a child. An heir to the Theirin legacy. A new king or queen of Ferelden. Yet, with the taint, it was difficult. He had tried several times, even if he avoided Anora’s chambers as much as he could. Yet, it was useless. She was not pregnant.

Alistair remember their wedding night. He was nervous, sweaty, and the looks she was giving him didn’t help. He didn’t want to sleep with Anora, he wanted to sleep with Eyra. Still, his wife talked to him, trying to calm him down enough to perform his duty. And he did, with a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“I’m sorry, my love” Eyra muttered in a mere whisper. Alistair’s eyes softened and he leant to press a kiss to her forehead.

“It’s not your fault. You will do it. If someone can, it’s you. I still remember our days in the party, from one side of Ferelden to the other, fighting darkspawns and monsters and dragon and you were the sweetest girl I’ve ever met” Eyra smiled softly, leaning against his shoulder. She loved the sound of his voice. “And you were always caring for us. Protecting us”

“And trying to stop Morrigan and you from killing each other”

“Oh, and do you remember when I felt jealous of your mabari?”

“What?” Eyra frowned and observed Alistair’s face turning crimson. Her mouth opened and she squealed. “Andraste’s breath! You were jealous of a dog!”

“No, I…did I say that? No, no. Of course not” Alistair coughed and tried to cover his blush with his cup, while Eyra held her head with her hand, grinning at him. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a bit jealous of your dog. I mean, he could sleep with you!”

Eyra laughed heartily until tears rolled down her cheeks and her stomach hurt. Alistair had his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry. It’s just so funny. It seems they were right”

“What? Who?”

“Leliana, Zevran, Morrigan…” she counted with her fingers and Alistair slapped his face, shaking his head.

“Maker…I’m embarrassing myself”

“Yeah, well. That’s part of your charm, I guess”

“Is that so? Well, then…” Effortlessly, he grabbed Eyra and placed her over his lap, with her legs on the sides. He nuzzled his nose against hers, smiling. “Tell me, what other charms are irresistible to you”

“I didn’t say you were irresistible”

“You don’t have to. I can see it over your beautiful puppy eyes when you look at me”

Eyra sighed when he wriggled his eyebrows, his smile always in his lips. She chuckled and put both arms around his neck, lowering her voice while biting her lip. It had been a long time since they held each other. It was like an echo of another time. Their bodies had memory and remembered every single kiss and touch. And sweet Andraste, how much they had missed it.

Alistair’s hands cupped both of her cheeks and she leant, closing her eyes and enjoying that feeling. He stared at her, mesmerized, trying to memorise every single feature of her for when she left. Unable to hold himself any longer, he leant and pressed his lips against hers, a soft, delicate, and feather-like kiss that made their heads to spin. They felt dizzy as their mouth moved in a non-spoken agreement.

“Eyra…” he muttered when they moved back, breathing each other’s air and staring at their eyes, blown with not-so-subtle lust. The mage kissed the tip of his nose and moved over his jaw, feeling Alistair’s hands gripping his waist. When she reached his earlobe and licked it, he groaned and stood up, forcing her to stand.

His brown eyes looking at her as he walked until her knees hit the massive mattress. Even if time had passed and he was no longer a warrior, Alistair was still strong and could lift her without problem. Eyra bit her lip, just to tease him and his eyes followed the movement, tongue licking his own lips. His breath was ragged, as if he had been fighting darkspawn for hours.

Eyra went to unlace her shirt but his hand, bigger than her own, stopped her.

“No, I want to do it”

She smiled and nodded, letting her arms hang by her sides, observing his movements. They were deliberated, slow, enjoying every inch of skin displayed to him. His calloused hands caressed it before replacing them with his soft lips, peppering kisses over her jaw and neck, nipping and biting. Eyra’s breath hitched and soon her upper part was bare except for her breast band. Alistair frowned and stared at the cloth.

“I still hate that”

The woman chuckled and shook her head, feeling his hands caressing her hips, circling the skin with his thumbs. Soon they moved upwards, where her breasts were craving for his attention. Alistair bit the tender skin between the neck and the shoulder, and she gasped, noticing his smile against her skin. Her hands buried in that hair she loved and pressed his body against hers.

Soon the knot that held the band together and tossed it on the floor, staring at her body with admiration. To Alistair, not even Andraste could compare to his lover. She smiled shyly, as she did the first time they slept together inside her tent.

He felt a twitch in his heart, the memory of his camp nights still fresh in his mind. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had left with the Grey Wardens, being her second-on-charge.

“Are you going to stay there all night, or will you do something?” she teased, biting her lip and wiggling her hips so the rest of her clothes fell, leaving her bare in front of him. Alistair felt his throat dry and swallowed hard. “Yet, I think it’s not fair that you are still dressed”

“No? Well, I’m the king here, and I think I might deserve having a little bit of advantage” he winked, and she punched him in the shoulder playfully before she started to undress him.

His broad chest was still tanned and strong. He had some scars here and there, the results of his time as a Grey Warden with Duncan and the travelling he had done with Eyra and the rest of the companions. He had some chest hair down his navel, where his breeches started. Alistair picked her up and placed her on the mattress, straddling her hips. He peppered his neck with kisses while his hands went to her breasts, touching and caressing them. Eyra gasped when his thumbs circled her nipples and arched her back.

“So sensitive. As always.” he grinned against her skin and lowered his head, capturing her nipple with his mouth, making her moan. “I miss those sounds. The softness of your skin…” Eyra pulled at his hair, placing her legs around his waist. His clothed length rubbed against her thigh and she felt her mind going blank. “I wonder…If I can make you come as I used to…”

Alistair’s wicked smile remained in his features as he went down her body, pressing kisses on her skin. Eyra knew where this was going, so her head hit the pillows, biting her lower lip. His hands caressed her thighs almost tenderly, peppering kisses all over the skin until his breath fanned against her folds.

“Oh, sweet Maker…I missed this”

Before Eyra had a chance to reply, he pressed his tongue against her clit, circling slowly, teasingly. His calloused fingers caressed her wet folds while his free arm forced her waist to the mattress. The mage huffed and writhed, letting small whimpers escape her throat.

“Alistair…” she muttered, grabbing and pulling his hair with both hands.

“I love when you say my name, my dear”

She moaned and tried to get free from his grip, only to be stronger. Alistair moved his head both sides, tapping and licking. Eyra screamed his name when she felt two fingers inside her, looking for that spot that made her mind go blank. In a few minutes, that man had the Commander of the Grey Wardens begging for release, which he gladly complied. The knot in her stomach tightened and her legs shook around Alistair’s head. His brown eyes observed her, not wanting to miss a single thing.

And oh, how he loved watching her come like that, eyes shut and hands gripping the sheets as if her life depended on it. Her chest moved as she tried to catch her breath and he rode her orgasm until she couldn’t take it any longer. When Alistair moved away, his chin was covered with her fluids and Eyra felt her whole body burning in shame.

“Oh, Maker. Are you blushing? The great Hero of Ferelden?”

“Stop mocking me” she replied with her muffled voice, as she had covered her face. He laughed and kissed her body, cupping her face.

“It was beautiful. You are beautiful”

Eyra Amell felt the sting of tears on her eyes and closed them when their lips touched. Her hands caressed his back, feeling his taut muscles. Soon they moved down the spine, raising goosebumps under the touch until they reached his ass, grabbing it.

“Hey!” Alistair shrieked with a smirk, making her laugh.

“Stop complaining, you love it” she replied, pecking at his nose before helping him remove his breeches. He stood there, kneeling by her side and Eyra couldn’t stop herself.

She pushed him until he fell on the mattress, his gaze following every single movement. She smirked and straddled him, rubbing her core against his length. Alistair gasped and grabbed her hips. Eyra placed her hands on his broad chest and, without taking his eyes off him, sank herself to the hilt. Slowly, intimately. The only sounds in the room where their breaths, rhythmic and ragged. Alistair groaned when he filled her completely.

“Maker…” he muttered, feeling his head dizzy at the feeling of her warm inside around him. “It’s been a long time…”

“Too long” said Eyra with a croaked voice, rocking her hips.

It took her a while to get used to it, but soon they moved at unison. Their bodies were like a puzzle that fit perfectly. The moans, the sweat, rolling down their bodies. The movements were deliberated, slow. They had all night to feel each other, taste each other. There was no need to rush.

His feet were on the mattress and his hips moved to meet her movements. They became faster, harder. Skin slapping skin, the sound echoing in the room. Moans, whimpers and soft words of love. Everything they wanted to say and couldn’t over the years. In that moment, they were no longer king and commander. They were just to lovers, as they were in their tents.

Eyra’s nails dragged lines over his shoulder and Alistair sat down, circling her body with his arms. His forehead against hers. One of his hands went to his small bundle of nerves and her body tensed. He knew she was close. She could feel it.

“C’mon, my love…oh, sweet Andraste…”

He pumped his hips faster and her body shivered while pleasure ran over her veins. She closed her eyes and Alistair kissed her, swallowing her moans. Her hands pulled his hair and he felt himself coming inside her, shuddering.

“Alistair…” she muttered with half-lidded eyes, peppering kisses over his face.

Without saying a word, they laid down and covered themselves with the mattress, caressing each other and making the other laugh. The following day they would have to remain serious and professional. And soon, she would leave again.

For now, that was not important. They had each other in their arms.

#Alistair #Alistair Theirin #Dragon Age #Dragon Age fanfic #Alistair fanfic #Female Amell #Alistair Smut #Female Mage #Dragon Age Origins

[bigfan-fanfic]

9. For Katie, Morgan, and Owain. :3

 Katie Cousland

The girl was a devil in battle, Teagan, the likes of which I’d never seen. It was clear she’d never held a spear before in her life, but she wielded it like she was born to it. I was wounded badly, could barely lift my sword, and Gilmore had his hands full trying to keep Innes awake, so it was her against all the assailants.

She screamed in terror the whole time, but it she achieved a level of focus that only those born to be warriors can gain. It was as close to magic as one like you or I could get to. 

And much to my surprise, when she turned, her face was that of our dear late sister Elissa. It seemed as though the Maker had sent her back from His side to save us. She was addled, and claimed the most fantastic things about her past. I decided to take her in as a ward. After all, the girl had no place to call home, and we owed her for saving us.

Her name is Katrina, though she prefers Katie. Over his travels with the Hero, Innes has already come to love her as a sister, and though my heart aches for my lost family, she has brought light to our house where it had nearly been snuffed out. I understand you met her while she traveled with the Hero.

We come to Denerim shortly to pay our respects to the new King and Chancellor. Perhaps you will get to meet the newest member of House Cousland in happier circumstances.

In hopes of seeing you,

Teyrn Fergus Cousland 

Morgan Walker

Morgan,

I know you have gone off with Morrigan to wherever-you’ve-gone, but I feel awful that I never actually gave you my thanks. Aster says that you went through the Joining just to save us from having to sacrifice ourselves to the Archdemon. And that you went through Maker-knows-what kind of scary ritual that that witch concocted. You knew I wouldn’t let Aster die. You saved my life, Morgan. And for that, I thank you.

Now, I don’t know why you left, though I suppose it’s because of Morrigan - already whipped by her, I see - but I’m letting you know that you will always have a room in the palace, though if you want to leave Morrigan behind, feel free. In addition, I’ve made you Teyrn of Gwaren, which Aster tells me is a horrible decision guaranteed to piss off a bunch of nobles, or as I like to call it, great fun. So should you ever get in a bind, let them know that you’re nobility. And Morrigan, too, I guess. Oh, Maker, I made Morrigan a noble, didn’t I? 

Anyway, I really hope we see each other again, Morgan. Even if you aren’t officially a Grey Warden, I am proud to see you as a brother under the Grey. It was an honor and pleasure to have you as a friend and companion.

Visit. Please.

Your friend (see? FRIENDS. Friends don’t vanish forever, you know),

Alistair

Owain Bonneville

Brother,

I wish to send you my earnest congratulations for your recent triumph. The letter from the Inquisition’s diplomat arrived this morning, and Father nearly threw a fit in his rage. They have already set about removing you from the family records, although Great-Aunt Lucille has said you’ll have a place in her will. Mother wants to remove her from the family, too, though I wonder how she’ll even try to manage it.

You must well know that your appointment as the Inquisitor’s retainer makes you a higher-ranking social peer than our parents. It irks them that they can no longer control you. I wish you all the happiness you can handle, Brother, now that you are free.

It pains me that you had to go through this yourself. As the future head of our household, and more importantly, as an elder brother, I have failed you. I cannot begin to express the guilt I feel for my part in what you went through. Though I must walk within our parents’ halls, I can say with certainty that you will be welcomed back into our house once I become Bann. 

I know we shall meet again.

Your loving brother,

Liam

#owain bonneville #morgan walker #katie cousland #codex entry #my ocs #ocs #prompts #asks #my writing

[jchb32273]

So, it has been awhile...

But there have been TWO Chapter updates to Kylara’s Origins since I last posted (SORRY!)

Chapter 36 - Kylara and the rest leave Denerim (finally... lol), find Cullen’s family in South Reach, and make their way into the Brecilian Forest - where they meet the Dalish. Can they get the last Grey Warden Treaty honored?

Chapter 37 - Sent into the deep wilds of the forest, Kylara, Alistair, Zevran, and Wynne are searching for a way to help the cursed Dalish from becoming werewolves... 

~~~~~~~~~~

A snippet from Chapter 37... Hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

This connection, this bond Ali and I share… It must mean something! I thought to myself. The fact that it is both physical and mental… perhaps this means we are truly meant for one another? I want to ask the First Enchanter, but I will have to do it in person. I can’t risk a message being intercepted by Eamon… or even Teagan.

“You look like you are thinking some deep thoughts there, love. Everything all right?” Alistair asked, a slight look of concern on his handsome face. “I know I couldn’t really give back what you gave me this eve- ”

I stood up and put my finger to his lips. “No, I wasn’t thinking about that.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “We just need to find Witherfang soon… and get this mission over with.”

“I agree. Let’s get back to the camp before they think the werewolves ate us, or something like that.”

From the deep shadows of the forest, Darkfire growled. “You see, my brothers and sister? They intend to kill Witherfang! We cannot let this happen!”

“I only heard the woman say they needed to find Witherfang… not ki- ” Wildstorm was cut off abruptly as Darkfire clawed his snout.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a werewolf, Wildstorm! Run back to Swiftrunner and The Lady like the coward you are.” Wildstorm quickly ran off into the dark. “Mysticmoon, Scarhunter, you are with me?”

“Aye, Darkfire. These human interlopers will do no harm to Witherfang,” Scarhunter snarled.

“When do we make our move?” Mysticmoon asked.

“Deep dark. When they are sleeping and helpless.” Darkfire bared his teeth. “They will all die tonight!”

We were all getting ready to sleep, but there was an uneasy prickle on the back of my neck. Ali and Zev both noticed my disquiet.

“What is it, love?” Ali asked.

“I am not really sure why I feel something bad is about to happen, but…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Keep your weapons close tonight.”

“I never sleep unarmed.” Zev gave a teasing smile. “I’d make a pretty poor assassin if I did.”

“Really?” Alistair had a look of disbelief on his face. “What about the times when you’re with Leli?”

“You really want to know where I keep my weapons in that situation?”

Alistair suddenly shook his head vigorously, which caused Zev and me to laugh. It helped to lighten the mood just a bit, but I still warned everyone to sleep lightly tonight.

Our campfire was down to coals when I heard a twig snap. I nudged Ali in the ribs. He very gently kissed the back of my neck to reassure me that he’d heard it too. Peering through my eyelashes I saw Zev’s eyes glitter in the light of the dying coals before he pretended to be sleeping again.

I carefully reached up and placed my fingers on my crystal. I wasn’t sure if it would work but figured I should try. I reached out with my senses to see if I could pinpoint where the attack might come from. In my mind, I saw three blurred images, one coming from each side of our campsite.

“Three,” I breathed out. Ali gave me a gentle squeeze. He had heard me.

I saw Zev was peering at me again, so I tapped my finger on the dirt. One… Two… Three… He gave the barest nod of his head.

Now we waited.

A moment later I saw the shadows shift near Zevran’s tree. A mud-brown werewolf was creeping out of the dense foliage. It raised its claws for a lethal strike, but the next second it was howling in pain!

“My eyes! I can’t see!”

Zev was on his feet daggers in hand. One of them was bloody and I saw why. He had slashed the were across its face, effectively blinding it.

“Scarhunter, you fool!” I heard from behind me. Ali pushed me out of his arms and I rolled, grabbing my staff along the way, over to where Wynne was. My job was to keep her and the unconscious Dalish elf safe and let Ali and Zev handle the weres. I felt her tremble behind me.

“Don’t worry, Wynne. They’ve got this,” I murmured to reassure her.

The werewolf that had shouted from behind me was now jumping towards Alistair. She (I wasn’t really sure how I knew it was a female, but I did) quickly found herself impaled on his sword. She gave a shriek as she died. An angry howl came from the third werewolf, who was still in the woods.

The blinded brown were was now slashing wildly all around, trying to hit Zev, who kept dancing out of the way. I had never really appreciated how light he was on his feet; he was quite amazing to watch. All too soon, he slashed the brown werewolf’s throat and it fell to the ground dead.

I was so preoccupied keeping Wynne safe and watching both Ali and Zev in action, that I had temporarily forgotten about the third werewolf.

Claws suddenly raked across my back and I screamed!

Wynne managed to catch and help me to the ground. She quickly began casting a healing spell to stop the bleeding. I whimpered in pain.

“Brasca!” Zev shouted. He pulled out several small hidden knives and flung them into the dark where the attack on me had come from. Yelps of pain indicated that his weapons had found their target. Alistair ran into the woods as the pained cries of the werewolf receded into the forest.

A moment later, he came rushing back into the camp and fell to his knees by my side.

“It got away.” He cursed out loud and then anxiously glanced at Wynne. “Is she going to be okay, Wynne?”

Wynne was in tears, but she kept casting her healing spell. “I-I don’t know. These scratches are pretty deep.”

“I can help,” a voice spoke out of the darkness.

As Zev was piling dry timber on our coals to get the fire going again, an elf with short reddish-brown hair stepped into our camp.

Wynne was completely shocked. “Aneirin?”

“Wait, I… I remember your face… but younger, more impulsive, stern… Wynne?”

Tears in her eyes, Wynne sobbed softly. “I thought they had killed you!”

Aneirin nodded. “The very nearly did. The Templars found me while I was searching for the Dalish… They ran me through and left me for dead. But let us not dwell on that now, your young friend needs help.” He pulled a pack off of his back and began pulling out bottles and various plants, both dried and fresh. “Wynne, you need to reopen those scratches on her back.”

“What?!” Alistair shouted. “Why?”

“We need to purge the infection,” Aneirin replied calmly. “If we don’t… well, I am sure you don’t want that result.” He then handed Alistair a hard piece of leather. “Are you her bonded mate?”

Ali blushed a bit, but then quickly replied, “We are a couple.”

“Fine, then. Have her bite down on this… and you will have to hold onto her. Keep her still. This, unfortunately, will hurt.”

#my fanfiction #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #kylara amell #alistair x amell #alistair x warden #werewolves #dalish #romance and adventure #chapter updates #non-canon storytelling

[october-rosehip]

Crash Course in Mage

(Takes place in Redcliffe Castle just after Jowan was sent into the Fade to save Connor. Isolde is alive, Eamon is still unconscious.)

Macsen flopped down into a window seat in the family's private parlor. After a moment he pulled the heavy, blue velvet drapes in front of himself, to get a moment of privacy still in view of the sky- the only way he could tolerate solitude. He leaned against the cool panes of glass. They remained unbroken, not even dirty after everything that had happened in the village. It didn't seem fair. So much suffering, set in motion by Loghain, and also by Isolde. Not for trying to hide Connor; Macsen felt a scrap of kindness towards her for that, but for asking his magic to be hidden, instead of training him properly. The nobles had caused this mess, but mages would pay the price, beyond what the common folk had already paid.

He closed his eyes and just breathed, for a moment. Away from everyone wanting him to decide things, away from the pain he saw in everyone here, just... away.

He must have dozed off, because he found himself slumped against the corner with his mouth slightly open when a pressure on the cushion near his feet startled him.

A young, timid face looked back at him from around the curtain.

“...Connor? What's up?”

“I- I'm sorry, I come here for quiet sometimes, and everyone is looking at me so strangely... oh, well, nevermind. You were snoring, just a little! So I knew someone was here, but I'm glad it's you. I wanted to thank you, for saving me.”

Macsen moved his feet out of the way. “Why don't we talk for a minute?”

Connor thought about it for just a second, worried eyebrows and biting his lip. He climbed into the nook with Macsen after all, though. “Um, all right.”

“There are a lot of things you need to know and I don't have a lot of time to tell you them. But you should know first that Jowan saved you. He went into the fade to kill the demon, and to see if he could help your father from there. I had to stay here to make sure nothing went wrong on this side.” Like someone deciding to kill the maleficar before he could finish trying to save the day.

“Oh. I... I didn't know that.”

Macsen smiled, softly and with sadness behind it. “You sound a lot like your cousin Alistair when he's surprised.”

“Alistair's not my cousin. Not my real cousin, anyway. Mother said that was all a lie, that we were related.”

“Do you want him to be your real cousin?”

“I wouldn't mind. He's very brave, and kind.”

“Then he's your real cousin. Jowan is my real brother. He protected me when I was little, and I'd do anything to protect him, now. That's something you need to know. The Chantry says mages don't have families, but it isn't true, we just make our own. Your blood family loves you very much, but they aren't all you have, and they're not all you'll need.”

Connor drew his knees up to his chin and stared at Macsen over his folded arms. “You love Jowan? I liked him. I thought he was a friend. But he's the one who poisoned Father. And now you're telling me that he went into the fade to save us? How could all of that be true? It doesn't make any sense.”

Macsen rubbed his face. This poor kid needed to adjust his thinking in a hurry. “This will be hard for you. They're probably sending you to the Circle. I know you're used to being a noble, but you're not one, anymore. Mages aren't. We can't hold lands, or titles, or even marry. You won't be a real person to nobles or Chantry folk, anymore. They will tell you what to do, and most of the time, you'll have to just do it. There's always a price for disobedience. Teyrn Loghain himself told Jowan to kill your father. He also said your father was plotting against the king... which is ironic, but anyway... Jowan believed him. The price for disobedience, Loghain said, would be Jowan's life. Jowan's not one to hurt anybody, but he didn't know he could do anything else.”

Connor paled. “I don't want to hurt anybody ever again.”

“Then become a healer, if you can, and never forget you're a person.”

“I won't.” Connor's voice took on a firmness it lacked, before. His face still carried a worried frown that looked like it might become a permanent habit. “Will the Circle even want me, after this?”

Macsen hadn't been sure of that, himself. It had been a terrible risk, going to the Circle, of all places, for help with a possession. He'd done it anyway out of selfishness. If Jowan killed the arlessa with blood magic, he was doomed. Beyond that, Macsen couldn't stand to see her throw herself at death for her son, who still needed her, and who would blame himself. “I guess they do. I hope it goes all right for you, but it's hard living there, with darkness in your past. Nobody will forget, or let you forget. But you didn't do all this yourself.”

“I did a lot of it though,” Connor sighed.

“Yes.”

They sat for a moment in a silence full of understanding. It was broken by Teagan's voice in the corridor. “Connor? Are you in here?”

Connor glanced at Macsen, who smiled and gave a small wave to send him off.

“Yes, Uncle Teagan! I'm here. I'm coming.” He slipped out of the window seat and Macsen heard him rush over to give his uncle a hug.”

“Don't disappear on me like that. I was worried.”

“I was just thinking, Uncle. I’m all right.”

“Well I'd prefer to make sure you stay that way...” Macsen stayed hidden as their steps receded down the corridor.

If only you could...

#Dragon Age #Warden Surana #Macsen Surana #connor guerrin #Rosehiporiginal

[cvusland]

Doomed

an alternate to a cousland/cullen fic I am currently writing called A Softer World (here on my ao3), in which Alistair is very much alive, and his warden left him to protect him.  At least thats what she told herself.

“But you don’t know me anymore, you know nothing of the monster that took over the girl I used to be” She snapped back, all teeth, and malice.

“I’ll always know you” He hissed right in her face “Because you are broken, and tired, and angry all the same as me, and that makes you mine.  War built two monsters, not just one.”

Seeing her across the room on the arm of another man hurt.   Even after all these years of being separated, it hurt.

It hurt when he saw her dancing with Nathaniel Howe (of all the Maker Damned people she could be with it had to be the son of the man who murdered her family).

It hurt when he saw her with Garrett Hawke, but of course he was the Champion of Kirkwall, and a Fereldan.  It only made sense it seemed.  The Hero, and The Champion.

It hurt now seeing her on the arm of the Commander of the Inquisition.

But this was the first time of all those time that they locked eye from across the room.

She turned away immediately leaving the Commander behind, and disappeared into the crowds of Halamshiral.

Of course the Inquisition would be here tonight.

Of course she would be here tonight.  She was as responsible for as many of their victories as the Inquisitor, and Rutherford were.

Damned war hero’s all of them.

He found her again later that evening.  Sipping a drink, and leaning against a wall looking all for all the world irritated, and bored all at once.

This time when he came near her, she did not run.

“Falin.”

“Alistair.”

“You look beautiful tonight” He looked at her, and hoped that she would make eye contact.

She did.

“And you look dashing.  A proper King, yeah?”

She was drunk.  Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes squinted, and that fucking smirk on her face.

“How… are you?” He asked, not quite sure where to go.  He couldn’t just go straight into ‘Why did you fucking leave me, and not speak to me for almost ten years?’

“Rubbing elbows with fucking Orlesians, and telling Hawke to fuck off every five minutes cause he can’t take no for an answer.”

Alistair laughed at that.  He couldn’t help it.

“What about you?”

“Oh you know.  Rubbing elbows with fucking Orlesians.”

Falin snorted.

“There’s worse things I suppose” She shrugged finishing what was in her glass, and signaling the server for another.  A young elven girl came by, and Falin placed her empty glass on the tray, and took another full one.

“Yeah? How so?”

“You could be not here.  That wouldn’t be fun I suppose” She smiled at him.

He wanted to smile back, to act like there wasn’t this chasm between them.  Maker he wanted nothing more than to take the love of his life in his arms, and just hold her.

“Falin…”

“Look Al, I’m drunk right now alright? I saw Morrigan earlier, and so I got drunk cause I don’t want to deal with that either.  I’m saying, and thinking, and feeling shit that I’ve been covering up for years.”

“I just want to know why you left me.  You engaged yourself to me, and left me.” Alistairs voice was hard with hurt, and pain.  He just wanted his answer.  Falin turned to look at him fully, and Maker he thought he fell in love with her right then, and there again.  She was gorgeous in her dress, and her drunkenness, and radiant in her anger.

There was nothing about this woman that he didn’t love.  And that was dangerous.

“Why did I leave?” She asked staring at him hard “You really want to know?”

“Yes” He asked, the desperation in his voice clear “Its all I’ve ever wanted to know.”

Falin looked away for a moment, shaking her head, and tossed back her drink. She looked at him again, brilliant red hair askew from running her hands through it in frustration all night.

“I left because I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“What?” Alistair demanded.

“That’s why I left.  I can’t give you an heir, I can’t give you a soft, and easy to deal with wife, I can’t give you a Queen Fereldan would be proud of.  I can’t give you love that doesn’t hurt because this love between us… it has always had that cloud looming over it.  Our love was born from anguish, and tragedy, and war –”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Alistair snapped grabbing her wrist, and pulling her in closer.

“Because what if you didn’t love me after the war.  What if I stayed the same woman that war made? What if I couldn’t go back to being a teryns daughter, perfect, and soft, and fit to be a Queen?”

“Why would that matter? I fell in love with you, as you were, Maker Damn you woman I still fucking love you!”

“But you don’t know me anymore, you know nothing of the monster that took over the girl I used to be” She snapped back, all teeth, and malice.

“I’ll always know you” He hissed right in her face “Because you are broken, and tired, and angry all the same as me, and that makes you mine.  War built two monsters, not just one.”

“Falin?”

They broke apart, watching as Cullen slowly approached them.  He eyed Alistair wearily, having seen how Alistair had been holding the small woman so close, how anger had burned in both their eyes.

“Excuse me” Alistair took a step back as he, and Falin eyed each other “I must go find Teagan.  Have a good night Commanders.”

Cullen waited until the King was out of eyesight before he looked to Falin.

“Are you alright?”

“Just fine” She said, but her voice was tense.

“You don’t sound fine.”

She turned a truly scathing look at him.

“I said, that I am fine.”

“The Inquisitor is looking for you.  He has information on Morrigan he said that you would like to hear.”

“Wonderful” She huffed, shaking her head.  “If I’m not black out drunk by the time we leave this damned place I better be dead.”

Cullen chuckled, and placed a hand on the small of Falins back as he led her towards the main ball room.

“What was that about, between you, and the King?”

He wanted it to seem like a simple question, but Falin knew better.

“Don’t go getting jealous Cullen.  There’s nothing to worry about with Alistair… even if I wanted him back it could never happen at this point.  That life, and that me is too far gone.”

Cullen nodded.

“You aren’t a monster you know” He said.

Falin stopped dead, and looked at Cullen betraying no emotion.

“How much of mine, and Alistairs conversation did you hear?”

“Enough to be worried of where your heart lays.”

“There is no heart to worry about Cullen, get that straight right now.  What you, and I have is a physical relationship, and nothing more.  If you want that to continue, by all means it can.  But if you think I have anything more to offer than that; then I’m sorry because I must not have made myself clear enough from the start.”

“Falin –”

“There is no heart left here Commander.  It has been gone, and unfeeling for a very long time.”

“I don’t think that’s true” He said “Otherwise your argument with the King would not have been quite so passionate.”

“And what do you know of passion? What do you know of love?” Falin snapped narrowing her eyes at Cullen.

“I know enough of you to know that you aren’t as cold, and unfeeling as you would like to be.  I know you hide behind the anger, and the alcohol like a child holding their mothers skirts.”

“If you think I have anything more to offer you Cullen, then you’re going to be very disappointed” She said.  She stormed away from him, the train of her dress trailing behind her as she went.

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, and rubbed in frustration.

That damned woman, and this damned place were getting to him.

#alistair theirin #cullen rutherford #alistair/cousland #cullen/cousland #dragon age #my writing #holy shit #this has been a long time coming

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 69 - Denerim

Chapter Rating: Teen Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Action/Adventure, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Fereldans, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

--

Twenty-third day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Spring flowers bloomed along the western road to Denerim, but the column of riders and infantry that approached was no proud company in parade shine. They were bedraggled and muddy from weeks of fighting along the coast, tired from the day’s march, and while Rosslyn and Alistair straightened in their saddles as they waited at the gate to be let in, they had to roll their shoulders beneath their armour and hide yawns behind their hands. The decapitated heads of traitors watched them sightlessly from hooks set into the walls above them, many of them fresh enough to still be recognisable despite the depredations of the crows. Mother Berit wasn’t among the number, perhaps saved by her Chantry connections, but Bann Loren was, and next to him a younger man with blond hair and a crude green sunburst painted onto his forehead.

“That was Vaughan Kendells,” Rosslyn said, noticing the direction of Alistair’s gaze. “I can’t say I’m sorry.”

He glanced at her, remembering what she had told him, and the lift of Tabris’ chin as she spoke of her escape from the city. “Me neither.”

Before she could do more than smile at the reply, the gate opened and an officer waved them through. The market-day traffic was thinner than it had been the last time Alistair had visited capital, and he saw more beggars on the streets, but those who stopped to watch them pass did so with open, curious gazes instead of the harried suspicion that had met them in Amaranthine. On impulse, he nudged his horse closer to Rosslyn and held out his hand. Gaze soft, she took it and linked their fingers together as she had in Uldred’s dream, only this time they bumped knees, and there was a smudge of dirt under her eye, and all of his bones ached from days on the road to tell him it was real. People cheered, and it made her blush.

Her smile still lingered when they reached the palace gates and dismounted to hand off care of the army to the officers, and their horses to the grooms that had appeared from a side arch as if by magic. In the momentary confusion, he stepped close to her so he could distract himself from their formal welcome by brushing away the smear on her cheek.

The last time he had been brought to the palace, as part of Teagan’s entourage, he had been all but smuggled in under a helmet to hide his resemblance to the various portraits of Theirin ancestors hung in almost every room; there hadn’t been two flanking rows of guards waiting at attention as they walked up the steps, nor an announcement by a herald. Rosslyn’s titles outnumbered his, and it gave them a moment to pause before they were ushered through.

“Relax,” she told him. “You’re not heading to an execution.”

He only pouted. “This is just as bad as Summerday.”

“Is it really?” she asked, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Well. Maybe some things are better.”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the wry look she tilted at him, but before he could say anything else, the doors to the great hall swung open to reveal not just Cailan and Anora sitting on their thrones on the dais, but also Rosslyn’s grandparents, straight-backed and magnificent in their finery.

“So here ye are,” the Storm Giant boomed. “At last! We were starting to worry ye’d upped and run off with her.”

Anora shot him a peeved glance. “Your Highness, my Lady Cousland, be welcome in our hall.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Rosslyn replied as she sank into a graceful bow.

“I trust your journey was not too eventful?”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a slew of rescued damsels left in your wake,” Cailan interrupted. He was frowning, and a bitter, sullen note coloured his voice. “Perhaps you stopped by Soldier’s Peak to rid it of all its ghosts?”

“Not quite,” Alistair supplied, with a careful glance to the woman beside him.

The king seemed to shake himself out of his bad humour. “A jest, of course. It’s good to see you both unharmed.”

Rosslyn adjusted her stance, folding her arms behind her back as if she were delivering a report from the field. “Bann Esmerelle of Amaranthine proved difficult to convince of her allegiances, Your Majesty. We are sorry for the delay.”

“We are glad of your safe arrival, of course – especially given the happy tidings you bring with you,” Anora said easily, without looking at her husband. “My congratulations to you both.”

“Indeed.” Lady Lileas, who until that point had merely watched proceedings unfold before her like an augur scrying bones, swept forward and pulled her granddaughter into a hug. “It’s good to see you, mo chridhe. And as for you,” she added, turning to Alistair with a stare that made him shrink away like a mouse, “You bested An Sgòrnan Aigeinn. I am satisfied.”

“Uh…”

“Can we be away now?” the Storm Giant interrupted with impatience. “My oald joints are starting to creak like a mizzen in a hoolie.”

“You’re not staying in the palace?” Alistair asked.

Lady Lileas smiled. “My grandson has kindly granted us use of his estate while we see to the preparations for your wedding, and we are still Rosslyn’s guardians.” Her expression darkened. “That swine left it in a terrible state. His death was well deserved. Come, granddaughter, you must wish to change out of armour, and there is much to discuss.”

A frown creased Rosslyn’s forehead. “It’s almost dark already and we’ve been travelling since dawn. I’m sure Their Majesties would not begrudge their hospitality – any discussion can wait until tomorrow.”

“You are not staying here,” her grandmother replied, as if the suggestion were absurd.

“I’m Commander-in-Chief of the army,” she pointed out. “I’m needed to plan the spring advance – the war isn’t over yet.”

“You are also not married yet.”

“This is because…?” Her eyes flew wide. “What do you think will happen? It’s not like we haven’t –” Faltering, her gaze flashed to Alistair and skittered away again as crimson bloomed across her cheeks. “We’ve been together on the road for weeks, what difference does it make now?”

“This is how things are done in the joining of two houses.” Lady Lileas drew herself up. “You know this.”

Behind his wife, the Storm Giant cleared his throat and said something in Clayne that Alistair failed to catch, but instead of lifting Rosslyn’s expression it only served to set her mouth in a line of petulant defeat. It was adorable.

“My things will need to be forwarded,” she said. “And I’ll require a schedule for meetings with the army’s officers and outfitters.”

“It will be done,” Cailan told her, having watched the whole exchange from behind steepled fingers. “And the sooner you get married, the sooner we can move your things back, eh?”

With nothing left to say, and a last helpless glance back at Alistair, Rosslyn was chivvied from the hall less like a war hero and more like a child caught shirking lessons, taking their plans for a quiet, shared evening with her and leaving him to wonder at just how quickly their fortunes had been turned around. Anora and Cailan’s gazes itched on the back of his neck, and he only barely remembered to turn to ask their leave before running after her. The clanking of his armour echoed ahead of him, and he found them already waiting just inside the entrance hall at the top of the steps. The looks being levelled at him were not favourable.

“Uh – can I have a moment to speak to my betrothed?” The word still sparked on his tongue. He doubted he would get used to it before he was calling her his wife instead, but thinking about that too closely made him dizzy. “In private?” he added, as he slipped his hand into Rosslyn’s.

The Storm Giant nudged his wife with his elbow. “Ach, go on.”

The clan leader of the Mac Eanraig pursed her lips at him, but it didn’t quite hide the twitch of her amusement. “We will wait in the carriage.”

He didn’t dare breathe until Rosslyn’s grandparents had reached the bottom of the steps, and then, spying an unobtrusive side door leading off the hall, he tugged on their joined fingers and pulled her after him with only the thinnest veneer of patience. The door swung open easily onto a small room lit by a single arrow slit, and the latch clicked back into place behind them an instant before he dropped her hand so he could take her face instead. She giggled as her forehead pressed against his.

“What is this place?”

“A storeroom – something – I don’t care,” he answered. “How long do you think it will be before they come looking for us?”

Gently, she shook her head and nudged a kiss against his lips. “Nowhere near long enough for all these layers of armour, my love.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he purred.

“I’m sure.”

One gloved finger traced the line of her jaw. “I told you we should have stayed in bed this morning.”

“Soon, we’ll be able to stay in bed every morning,” she reminded him.

“In our bed.” His breath stuttered.

“No sneaking away back to separate rooms.”

“Then…” He steadied himself and found her hand again. “This is just another reason why Guardian can’t come fast enough. How am I going to last without you for so long?”

She laughed, lightly pushing him away so she could get to the door again. “I’m not disappearing off the face of Thedas, and it’s only a few weeks. We’ll see each other every day – we’ve been through worse.”

“I’ll dream of you,” he promised.

“My grandmother would be scandalised.” She pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth as she turned to leave. “Everything will be fine.”

--

It was not fine.

Aside from the wedding plans – fabrics and food and guest invitations and the small feud that erupted between Anora and Rosslyn’s grandmother because of it – they were kept ridiculously busy organising for the march south, and assisting in the city’s rebuilding efforts. They saw each other only in snatches for daily meetings, and barely exchanged two words that were not about policy or supplies. In addition to the schedule, Rosslyn had to drag herself across the city every morning to oversee the army’s drills, which meant most moments she had to herself during the day were spent trying to catch up on sleep.

To keep himself from missing her too much, Alistair took on oversight of the alienage. Nobody else seemed to care about the damage done to the elves, and while Cailan indulged him, or perhaps lacked interest, many of the other nobles already in attendance for Wintersend muttered that he was wasting both time and money on a worthless cause. They quieted after he pointed out that having to contend with an uprising would only add to the strain being faced by all of them, but having to appeal to their self-interest left a bad taste in his mouth.

Anora, at least, offered support for his efforts. As the time went by and Cailan’s preoccupation with finding Loghain took up more and more of his thoughts, the day-to-day politics of the palace fell to her. For this reason, relations with her continued to be fraught, especially in regards to military matters. She didn’t like people stepping on her toes. She didn’t stand for breaks with decorum, either, but she was fair and even-handed in her judgements, and for the sake of peace, Alistair tried his best to follow her lead and stay out of her way.

The only bright spots in all the blandness of days passing too slowly came in the notes he and Rosslyn managed to smuggle to each other during meetings and meals, the only times they got to touch, or even stand next to each other. She had passed the first to him in a chance encounter in one of the corridors, a brief press into his hand and she left with just the flash of her smirk tossed over her shoulder, and a glance down to where a neatly folded square of paper sat in his palm. Before anyone could call him away, he had slipped into a nearby empty room and pored over the lines, just a few sentences written in her elegant hand, but more than she had been able to say to him since they had arrived in Denerim.

I’ll not trust any messengers this time save our own hands, my love, and the time cannot come soon enough when I get to hold yours. When I get to be alone with you. When I can fall asleep beside you once more and never again worry about how long it will be until we must part. I love you.

He passed her his reply with the salt cellar at dinner.

I love you too. I wake up thinking of you. I miss curling around your body and waking you with kisses, even if your hair so often gets caught in the middle. I miss the sound of your voice and the brightness of your eyes. I’d write poetry about them, but you haven’t married me yet and I don’t want to risk it.

It became a game between them, this sly exchange of notes, each one a tiny rebellion at the strictures of propriety, a private conversation when no privacy was allowed.  

My hair would not get so wild if a certain someone didn’t take such delight in tangling it the night before. In case you start to worry, that was not a complaint. I miss your voice as well, and your hands, and what both can do to me, although one benefit of distance is that I get to admire my future husband from afar without him noticing. Your footwork showed great improvement when you were sparring today, though you still drop your elbow too far when you block.

~

You enjoy making me blush, don’t you? Perhaps I can return the favour, Wife-To-Be. There was a moment in the gardens yesterday where you were wandering among the shrubbery with no idea that I was stuck only a floor above you, listening to Brantis drone on about the advantages of a trade deal Cailan has already agreed to. My attention may have wandered, and my hand was nothing but a thrall to the vision before me. I’m sure you can guess the subject.

~

I will treasure this likeness, my love, if I am allowed to keep it? I ought to admonish you for not paying more attention to Brantis, given how hard he tries, but I find I do not have the heart. The expression you captured here, is this truly how I look? Rest assured that I am blushing profusely, though I made the mistake of opening your offering for the first time while in the same room as my brother. Fergus seems to have taken it upon himself to stuff a year’s worth of insufferable brotherly affection into a few short weeks, though in hindsight I should not have told him your note included a sketch. He also says if we want to keep these messages secret, you ought to do better containing your grin in the exchanges. I told him to boil his head.

~

I am glad you like the sketch. It’s yours. I might never do you justice, but maybe in the future we’re to have together, I might practice? You looked tired when I saw you today (yesterday, by the time you read this), and you cannot tell me Wintersend isn’t preying on your mind. I know you too well. I cannot tell you how to feel, but please remember that I love you. So much.

As the holiday approached, Rosslyn’s sombre mood grew more pronounced, and she withdrew into herself. In the palace, the time was marked for celebration, and the festival spirit was upheld by an army of harried servants made busy decorating and preparing guest rooms for the visiting nobles – but it had also been a year since the sack of Highever, since Fergus and Rosslyn had marched away to war and returned to find a ruin. Alistair did what he could to bolster her spirits, but short of slipping his night guard and breaking into the Cousland estate like a common thief, there was little remedy for the nightmares she refused to admit were plaguing her again.

On the morning of the feast he spent an extra hour in the lists, trying to beat out his nerves on practice dummies. The usual meetings had been put on hold for the day, which meant he wouldn’t see her until she arrived with the rest of the guests just before sundown. It would be their first public appearance as a couple, the only one before the wedding, and that meant extra fuss in his attire lest the assembled nobility find him lacking either as a prince or as a prospective husband. Besides, he wanted his betrothed to be impressed.

While he bathed, Marten lay out the same rust-red doublet he had worn for Summerday, with the addition of the mantle made for the voyage to the Storm Islands, and the bracers Rosslyn herself had given him to meet her grandfather. He traced his fingers over the embossed leather as his valet fussed with his collar, remembering. He had almost kissed her after she helped him put them on the first time. Looking back, at what came later, he was glad he hadn’t but he wondered if she knew. Even during the darkest part of his time in Orzammar, he had worn the gift, too stubborn and too hopeful to give them up, and now he couldn’t stop smiling, and the day when he would become her husband rose barely a week away on the horizon, a lighthouse guiding all his thoughts to safe harbour.

“You’re all set, Your Highness,” Marten pronounced, bushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulders.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” Alistair fiddled with a sleeve.

“You know her better than me, milord,” the valet pointed out. “I wouldn’t dare presume her taste in outfits.”  

“Right.”

Marten licked his lips. “No one’s in doubt that she loves you, but if you stand up here all night worrying – well, that’ll hardly do you any good, now will it? I’ve done the best I can for you.”

“And you have my eternal gratitude for it,” he replied.

With one last glance in the long mirror, and a deep breath to steady himself, Alistair nodded and left the room. When he reached the door to the king’s chambers further along the corridor, it was a maid who answered his knock, and she told him both Cailan and Anora were still indisposed. Then she shut the door again with a decisive click, before he could say anything else. He shifted on the balls of his feet. The light outside the window was fading from the brightness of late afternoon, which meant a good number of the guests should have arrived. He didn’t want to lurk in the hallway, awkward and bumbling and gossip-fodder for any servants who happened to catch a glance of him in all his worried finery, but he also didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself in the hall – Isolde had always sneered that he got under people’s feet, and however much he tried to block it out, the contemptuous echo of her in his mind remained persistent.

But Rosslyn would arrive soon, if she wasn’t already waiting for him. He could make small talk pretending to oversee the final preparations for the feast until she arrived, and then, he reasoned to himself as he walked, he could talk to her. He could spend the whole night talking to her, and nobody would be able to stop him. Maybe he could sneak her away, to some shady corner where he could hold her hand, and run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her. His thoughts wandered far enough in imagining it that his foot slipped on the first step of the landing and he only saved himself from tumbling all the way to the bottom of the stairs by snatching his hand out for the banister.

“Ow,” he grumbled, massaging his shoulder. “I really hope nobody saw that.”

Allers, the royal guard stationed in an alcove a little way away, made no response to his suspicious glare.

“Alistair?”

His face heated. It was Rosslyn. She stood at the base of the stairs with one hand on the banister and the other lifting the hem of her gown to keep it out of the way of her feet, frozen in the act of rushing up to meet him.

“Huh?”

She was in deep blue damask, the folds of the sleeves and the low, broad dip of the neckline richly embroidered, the fabric outlining the curve of her waist. Her hair fell in a thick black curtain down her back, braided and pinned with the aurum laurel wreath she had worn in the Storm Islands – and around her neck, bare on her pale skin for all to see, his amulet hanging at the end of a delicate silverite chain.

“You fell,” she said.

“I –” He swallowed. “Only for you, dear lady.”

She rolled her eyes, but waited as he skipped down the stairs to meet her, and smiled when he caught her hand to press his lips to the knuckles. Close to, the elegance of her dress didn’t quite hide the slump of her shoulders, nor the brittle fatigue that tightened the corners of her mouth.

“You’re early,” he murmured, still holding her fingers.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much left to do at the estate, and I wanted to see you.”

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” He leaned forward. “And I’ve wanted…”

Before he could finish the thought, she reached up and pressed a halting finger against his lips. “I had to drag Fergus with me.”

Fergus. Of course. He followed the tilt of Rosslyn’s head to where her brother stood not even that far away, with one eyebrow raised and his arms folded across his chest, the very picture of a concerned guardian who had just caught someone nefarious swooping down on his charge. Alistair, preoccupied with other things, had completely failed to notice him.

“Ah – um. Your Lordship! You’re looking well.”

“Your Highness,” Fergus answered mildly. “Please, do carry on with my sister. It’s not like our grandmother is in the next room, wondering where we’ve snuck off to.”

“You could go and stall her if you like,” Rosslyn suggested, and when her brother only returned her a flat look, she frowned. “Please, Ferg? I did it for you – for weeks.”

“Only because I bribed you,” he retorted, but his face softened. “Fine, I’m going. But don’t do anything too outrageous.”

“I think that means you’re not allowed to spirit me away to somewhere nobody can find us,” she huffed as he ducked through the door, already looping her arms around Alistair’s neck.

His hands found her waist. “Damn, that’s my plan foiled, then. Please tell me I can kiss you, at least?”

“You may,” she giggled.

“Good.”

His heart thundered more than it should for such a simple brush of lips, but before he could sink too far into the feeling, he pulled away so he could see her expression. Her eyes were still closed, her head turned into his palm like a flower angling its petals towards the sun.

“How are you?” he asked.

A sigh, and her eyes fluttered open to focus on his chin. “It… hasn’t been a good day. I’ve tried to keep myself busy, but it hasn’t really worked. It’s been a whole year, and yet all I’ve been able to think is that they should be here. That it’s –”

“Not your fault,” he interrupted firmly. “I wish I could have been with you – I mean, not that I don’t every day, but today especially, I wish I could’ve been there to make it easier.”

“I had your notes,” she reminded him with a weak smile. “That kept the worst of it at bay.”

He grinned. “Did it now? In that case, I’ll feel a little better giving you this.” With the flourish of a showman, he reached into the end of his sleeve and pulled out a folded square of paper. “For later,” he explained. “When you don’t have an audience. There’s words in it that I hope are reassuring, but also – since you liked the last sketch so much, I thought as a distraction…”

Their fingers brushed as she took the note from him. The blush rising in her cheeks chased away the wan tone of her skin, and for a moment Alistair allowed his mind to linger over all the other scandalous ways he might prompt such a reaction.

She smirked at him. “If it needs to be so private, I had best keep it safe.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she folded it once more and with nimble fingers slipped it down the front of her dress. Alistair stared. She smoothed her hands over the silk to make sure nothing poked out where it shouldn’t, unconcerned. It was a perfunctory gesture, businesslike, and yet far too thorough to be innocent.

“Are you alright?” she asked sweetly, once she was finally satisfied that everything lay in its proper place.

He managed a strangled sort of noise. “Nothing a long soak in Lake Calenhad wouldn’t cure.” When he caught her expression, falling from a smirk into true concern, he shook his head and pulled her closer, until they were standing hip to hip. “I’ll manage. And don’t think I won’t get you back for that little performance.”

“You started it.”

“You like tormenting me.”

She laughed at that, and darted a quick kiss against his mouth that he was too slow to return. “Shouldn’t you be going to greet your guests?” she asked. “Where is the king?”

“Applying the finishing touches, I think.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on Cailan or his moods, not with Rosslyn in his arms. “We should be safe from disgrace, in any case. One is only late if one arrives after royalty, after all.”

“You are royalty, my love,” she murmured, smiling wider as he waggled his eyebrows.

“And soon you will be, too.” The reminder stole his breath. “Uh… shall we?”

The eyes of every guest turned to look at them as he appeared in the doorway with Rosslyn on his arm, but for once, he didn’t mind the attention, or the wave of movement that swept through the room as people bowed to him in greeting. Her grandparents stood in one corner with Fergus, given their own deference as foreign dignitaries, and while the back of his neck heated under their knowing gaze, there were enough distractions elsewhere to keep him from too much embarrassment.

He even managed to avoid glancing lower than Rosslyn’s collarbones. Mostly.

“Aye, and don’t they make a handsome couple?” Bann Ferrenly preened once he caught them into his orbit. “I predicted this, you know. I said to my dear Raina, ‘We can’t have these two in such close quarters without them falling for each other. Mark my words,’ I said, ‘There’s much to admire in him, and he would be a fool not to see the quality of such a lady!’”

“Of course,” Bann Aldubard agreed stiffly. “Who could have predicted otherwise?”

At the other side of their circle, Arlessa Élodie of South Reach laid a delicate hand on Rosslyn’s arm. “I, for one, am glad that this war has not been all tragedy – we must move forward, must we not?”

When Cailan and Anora eventually joined the gathering, even Bann Ferrenly was almost out of anecdotes, so it was a relief to follow the line of torches the servants had lit in the darkened gardens, to where a troupe of mummers had set up a stage in front of an open-fronted pavilion furnished with a long table that was already groaning with food. As the nobility were directed to their seats, the troupe master welcomed them and announced a performance of Dane and the Werewolves. At first, Alistair kept his eye on his brother and the carafe of wine placed by his elbow, but though Cailan looked tired, he was dressed in fresh clothes and his hair had been brushed and braided, and he was minding Anora’s voice in his ear.

Rosslyn slipped her hand into his. In the distraction offered by the players she had nudged her chair close enough to his to press against him to the knee. They could do little more under so many watchful eyes, but with every moment counting time down to the wedding, still so many days away, it was enough.

“To us?” she suggested when the servers had filled their goblets and everyone else was preoccupied with the strut of the warpainted hero onto the stage.

He touched his cup to hers and leaned across with a kiss. “To spending our lives together,” he agreed.

--

It was only the following morning that he spotted the note she must have slipped inside his tunic. He picked it off the middle of his bedroom floor with his head still ringing from his hangover, his thoughts whirling about the one he had given her, whether she had opened it yet, what she thought of it, if the ink had smudged against her breasts after spending so many hours pressed to her skin. Perhaps going beyond words into illustrations was a step too far, and even now she was marching through Denerim’s streets to out him as a lecher and declare there wouldn’t be a marriage after all. If it were so, at least he’d have one last message from her to remember her by.

Today I cannot help but think about the past, but the weight sits less heavy on my shoulders knowing my future lies with you. We have fought through so much, together and apart, and it is strange to think how I ever managed without you. What if we had never met, or if our paths had crossed in some other way? Would I still miss waking up without you? Would you miss me?

His worry vanished. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pressed the paper to his lips, wishing it could be her instead, that he could put his arms around her and drive out all her doubt.

He was at his desk and finishing his reply before he had even changed out of his smallclothes.

I would miss you. I do miss you. There is an empty space in the bed and the pillows don’t smell like you. You make me better, and make me want to be better. If someone could knock me out so I can wake up on the morning of our wedding without having to endure the torture of not being able to hold you, I would be very grateful.

~

My love, if you lie unconscious, who will distract me with such delightful correspondence? Who will smile at me as you do? And what if whoever it is hits you too hard on the head and kills you? No, it cannot be risked. You must continue to suffer, as I assure you I do as well, but only for a little while longer.

~

For you, perhaps I might make it three days, and believe me, I am counting every moment until you become my wife. I cannot wait to be your husband. I love you.

~

Two days, my love. I can barely eat for nerves.

~

I haven’t slept – can’t until I have you in my arms again. I’ll see you tomorrow.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair x cousland #alistair theirin #cousland #f!cousland #rosslyn cousland #the falcon and the rose

[jibberjibbsart]

*Spongebob voice* The gangs all here! Finally all my Dragon Age Protagonists in one place! I did some retconning to the story but I’m finally satisfied with what I came up with. Basically, the Amell/Cousland/Hawke family is very important. (If you have any questions about my character feel free to ask them! I want to draw their answers/reactions) (In my Dragon Age Universe, Eleanor Cousland was the oldest Amell sibling that left Kirkwall before Leandra) (I break Canon a bit oops) Growing up with magic in Highever should have been easy. Valerie was the daughter of Teyrn Cousland. She lived in a beautifully fortified castle where she could practice her magic safely and out of the Chantry’s eye. The only problem was her family. When Valerie was much younger, her Aunt Leandra and Uncle Malcolm moved in with them. Their son Garrett was a handful. Not only was he annoying, but he was a mage that couldn’t control his magic. Numerous times she had to put out fires he started. When her baby cousin Bethany showed signs of having magic, Uncle Malcolm decided it was time to give them lessons. While Malcolm taught the three mages about the Fade, Valerie’s father showed her brother Fergus how to use a sword. Eventually Marian and Carver joined those lessons. One day, Valerie was showing Bethany and Garrett a new spell when a maid saw them using magic. Most of the staff already knew about the children’s abilities, but this new maid was a devout Andrastian. She ran to the Chantry to alert the Templars. Luckily Leandra, Malcolm, and the kids escaped safely. Valerie was taken to the Circle of Ferelden at the age of fifteen. Shortly after joining the Grey Wardens, Valerie and Alistair ended up in the town of Lothering. While she was asking some of the Templars in the Chantry about Arl Eamon, she ran into her Aunt Leandra. The two were overjoyed to see each other and Leandra invited the Grey Wardens to stay in her house while they were visiting the town. Valerie told Leandra about Howe’s betrayal and how almost everyone in the castle was killed. Leandra was devastated. She decided to write to her brother in Kirkwall about what happened to their sister. After they talked about Valerie’s Joining and the Blight, Valerie decided to catch up with her cousins. She remembered Garrett correctly. He was still annoying, dense, and a slob, but now he was incredibly talented. Over the years he became quite adept at using his magic. Even little Bethany showed promise of being a powerful mage. She envied how the Hawkes got to live free from the circle and could still practice their magic. She didn’t live in the circle long, but it was long enough to hate the Chantry for their mistreatment of mages. After defeating Uldred at the Ferelden Circle, Valerie went back to Redcliffe castle. She hoped that with her new knowledge of the Fade she could defeat the demon plaguing Connor and save him from becoming an Abomination. Before they could start the ritual, a scribe ran into the castle telling Bann Teagan that Lothering had been attacked by Darkspawn. Valerie asked if anyone made it out alive, but the scribe told her there were no survivors. That night she asked Leliana to pray for her family’s souls. Ever since Hawke watched his cousin get ripped from her home and put into a circle against her will, he feared the Templars. Unfortunately for him, Kirkwall was a Templar breeding ground. As soon as they entered the city he was horrified by the state of their circle. Hawke always knew circles weren’t a great place to be, but this? This was beyond anything he could’ve imagined. It was even worse when the Templars in the gallows talked about Knight-Captain Meredith. She was like a storm cloud that hung over his head wherever he went. Although Marian and Carver love their brother, they feared his magic and that his fear of the Templars would cause him to do something foolish. They always kept a close eye on him. After being in Kirkwall for a few years, Hawke was like a new person. He no longer lived in fear of the Templars, he could actually act like an adult when it was necessary, and everyone he helped he aided them with a smile. However Marian and Carver could see the pain in their brother’s eyes. Their mother’s death haunted Garrett with every decision he had to make. He hid behind sarcasm and jokes, but they knew he blamed himself. He blamed the Maker. He blamed his blighted magic. Being Champion of Kirkwall was exhausting. There were parties to attend, nobles to please, dangerous cartels that wanted his blood to defeat, and of course dignitaries to greet. One day, Hawke had gotten a letter from Aveline saying that the King of Ferelden was in the keep and wanted to speak with him. It’s not every day that a King wants to willingly meet him. Hawke was not expecting to see Alistair, the goofy Grey Warden he met when he was seventeen. The two Ferelden men excitedly greeted each other and talked about their lives since the Blight ended. Hawke was especially surprised to hear that Valerie was Queen of Ferelden. His cousin, Queen! Alistair explained to Hawke, Carver, and Marian how Valerie thought everyone died in Lothering. Hawke joked that it would take more than a few Darkspawn to kill him, but he told Alistair how they lost their father and Bethany. After Alistair left Kirkwall, Hawke made sure to send plenty of letters to Denerim about his time as Champion. When Clan Lavellan saw Kirkwall’s Chantry explode, they decided it would be best to leave the Free Marches. Creators forbid the Templars hunt down any and all mages, including Dalish ones. As they attempted to get as far away from Kirkwall as possible they were stopped by two Shemlen and an elf with strange Vallaslin. The gigantic Shemlen explained that the area wasn’t safe for him or any mages, but he could protect them if anything should happen. Keeper Deshanna feared no Shem and she welcomed the group to travel with them for a time. The more protection, the better. The Keeper’s first, Jyn, took an interest with the larger Shemlen mage. Jyn explained to the Shemlen that she only recently started studying magic. She didn’t know enough spells that would make her worthy of being a Keeper if anything happened to Deshanna. The Shem agreed to teach her as much as he knew. After a few weeks of wandering the Free Marches’ forests, Jyn learned that she was an excellent elemental mage. Hawke (She asked her mentor for his name after two weeks) taught her all the elemental magic he knew, which wasn’t a lot. When Jyn expressed interest in the elemental arts, Hawke panicked. He was a force mage, he was afraid he didn’t know enough to teach her what she wanted to know. However, Jyn was more talented than she let on. Hawke would teach her how to cast simple spells and then she would easily improve upon them. In their spare time, the elf with strange Vallaslin (Fenris) and Marian taught Jyn simple self-defense moves to keep her on her toes in battle. Once the clan traveled closer to the coast, Hawke heard rumors about the Divine Conclave. He knew this would be an excellent chance for Mages and Templars to talk peacefully, but he wasn’t sure if the man who helped start this rebellion should attend. Hawke decided to go to Denerim to speak with his cousin on what he should do. Jyn begged Hawke to take her with him, but he decided against it. It would be safer for her to stay with her clan. As they said their goodbyes, Marian took Jyn aside and promised she would send letters updating her about Fenris and Garrett’s relationship. If they didn’t get engaged anytime soon Jyn was going to come to Denerim herself and give a lecture to the two of them. When Hawke heard about the explosion at the Conclave, he was devastated to hear that Jyn had attended to represent clan Lavellan. He hoped she had survived, but the Temple of Sacred Ashes was… in ashes. There was no possible way she could have lived. You can imagine his surprise when he got a letter from her explaining she was now the leader of the Inquisition. He knew she would be great.

#Wow I wrote a lot #I hope you guys read it #dragon age #origins #Inquisition #inquisitor oc #lavellan #garrett hawke #marian hawke #carver hawke #bethany hawke #hawke #fenhawke #alistair #alistair theirin #cousland #amell #valerie #oc #fantasy #dragon #elf #fenris #cullen rutherford #templar #mage #bioware #my art #fanart

[attanos]

dao canon babey!! 😎

some quick facts about this mess

cousland/guerrin family

nerin & teagan marry in 9:32 in denerim and she becomes the arlessa of redcliffe. she falls pregnant not too long after that and takes a step back from her work as warden-commander for the next few years. she focuses on her family and helping the crown rebuild ferelden.

their first child, finn, is heir to redcliffe. fergus never remarries and names rowan as his heir. maebh is set to marry brandon mac tir, heir to the throne, from the age of eleven.

the kids keep both of their parents names, determined to see both of their proud houses continue to prosper even after the tragedies that have befallen them.

finn looks every inch a cousland - black/brown hair and eyes the color of a mossy forest. 

rowan has the cousland hair but guerrin eyes. a stormy blue.

maebh is the striking image of teagan. same brown/red hair and stormy blue eyes.

nerin doesn’t really disappear in 9:40. she sets out with a purpose because a lead on the calling popped up (something she’s been keeping her ear to the ground about for years). her family & close friends are aware where she’s gone and lie to the inquisition about it.

mac tir/desrosier family

henri served as one of anora’s personal guards since she was about seventeen. he developed feelings for her during his service to her. he never said anything about them. he had no right to and anora was already betrothed to cailan.

his years of service to both anora and cailan saw him promoted to head of the royal guard not long before the events of ostagar. for which henri was present having accompanied cailan. then of course everything happens and henri is left with the death of his king and the label of orlesian traitor on his shoulders.

(his father, jehan desrosiers, was a chevalier & ruling gwaren during the orlesian occupation. his parents marriage was not a happy one. henri’s mother, neassa, was one of the leaders of the gwaren uprising. and according to tavern rumours was the one to drive a sword through her husbands heart. henri has about as many daddy issues as you can imagine.)

he and the handful of men he has left are in lothering looking for news when they run into the remaining grey wardens. long story short, they decide to work together to stop the blight and clear their names. henri is present for the landsmeet and has his name cleared, and his position restored, by anora.

both he and anora thoroughly discuss any plots that could be carried out in Alistair’s name and decide to up her guards for the time being. meaning that Henri is pretty much back to acting as anora’s personal guard. there’s a lot less distance between them this time. they’re both mourning cailan, a close friend to both of them, and henri finds himself half playing at advisor when anora shares governing business with him and asks for any opinions he may have.

eventually those feelings he had long buried come back, twice as strong as before and all the time he and anora spend together doesn’t help. nne night, after a particularly brutal session of trade talks with the orlesian ambassador, anora decides she needs a drink and after sitting in on those talks all day henri decides he could use a drink himself. one thing leads to another and there is some passionate making out going on. anora invites him to spend the night and he does, clothes on, both of them reminiscing about gwaren and how good of friends their mothers had been.

It’s here, three years after the blight, that their relationship begins to turn. they never label it, hardly discuss it, but they often spend nights together. sneaking kisses in hidden corners of the palace like they’re teenagers.

it goes on like this for years, slowly developing in a proper relationship. It’s an open secret in the palace and people whisper about it in denerim.

their relationship kind of comes to a head with the visit of an orlesian dignitary in 9:35 Dragon. some comments are made to henri regarding his father and how the desrosiers name is a joke in orlais now. how he spits on his fathers memory by running around and denying his blood, playing at being a loyal ferelden when orlais runs in his blood. and, of course, henri and his six thousand issues regarding his father and his orlesian heritage promptly freak the fuck out. he advises anora that they should break it off, telling her he’s sullying her families name, especially after everything her father has done to take ferelden back from the orlesian’s.

anora tries to talk him down from it, but he’s just as stubborn as she is, so she leaves him to wallow and goes to Get Shit Fixed. meaning she sends a letter to his mother, gwaren’s acting teryn, inviting her to the palace to slap some sense into her son. it’s actually quite a heartbreaking and lovely scene. henri sitting down with his mother and anora, being told how he is not and never will be his father. how he could never be even half as cruel and how he has his mothers blood in his veins too. old ferelden blood. blood that threw aside her traitor husband and swore allegiance to a rebel king. blood that made henri swear his life to the crown and those who held it.

henri still has a lot of issues with his birthright but having the two people he loves the most tell him he is more than his father definitely helps him slowly come to terms with who he is and how he’s more than his father’s failed legacy.

a year later anora asks Henri to marry her. her proposal is broken down into two parts; how much she loves him and wants to show that to her people and how valuable their joining with be for ferelden, both politically and also as a way to give the country an heir. it’s such an entirely anora way to go about it and henri loves her so much. he does voice some wariness regarding her marrying someone half orlesian. anora tells him to shut up. he does and they have a wonderful wedding ceremony attended by half of denerim.

anora gives birth to their first child, brandon, in 9:38. he takes after both his parents with his golden blonde hair and has henri’s light grey eyes. he grows up incredibly loved and cherished and 100% anora’s son. 

their second child, a girl they name lilah, is born in 9:40. golden blonde hair and anora’s (loghain’s) deep blue eyes.

brandon is to inherit the throne after his mother & is set to marry maebh cousland.

lilah is arranged to marry one of the little de chalon lions. a marriage between the ferelden & orlesian thrones? leonelle and anora truly are that powerful! 

#oc: nerin #oc: henri #oc tag #lore time babey 😎 #ferelden is really about to prosper for the next hundred years under the rule of the mac tir's #maebh & brandon is an arranged marriage but if y'all know my fool ass you KNOW that's gonna be the most tender slowburn ship #they're both in love since they're like 16 & don't realise it and god so much mutual pining #like fools!!!! you're literally married!!!! #anyway i'd apologize but i love these two families so much so im not sorry #also the STRESS of trying to do legit timelines #bIOWARE I NEED SOLID DATES FOR YOUR MAJOR HISTORICAL EVENTS HELLO