#[Leliana voice] here I am!

[herrshepard]

Hi, I'm Bi ft. my DAO, DA2 & DAI romances

Thanks to Bioware for this self revelation.

[erinsunmentionables]

Veilguard & Victim Blaming

I am an abuse survivor. Part of the reason I empathize so heavily with Solas is because of this. I’m not the first person to point out that his behavior in DAI has all the hallmarks of an abuse victim, and everything we know about Flemeth/Mythal from the first three games and all supplementary content has characterized them both as abusers. Because victims becoming abusers is indeed a real and tragic phenomenon.

I was so hoping they’d handle the subject with the nuance and maturity we’ve come to expect from BioWare. Instead, we spent all of Veilguard combing through the most painful and traumatic memories of someone who was coerced and abused by a person he trusted, all the while the characters we’re meant to view as good and empathetic people mock him and glorify his abuser, who among other things willingly owned slaves.

Because there is no grey area, Mythal abused Solas just as Flemeth abused Morrigan and her son, and Justinia abused Leliana. And it’s clear this was the intention. It was always the intention. The foundations of it were too strong to remove entirely from the game, but I guess someone higher up wasn’t comfortable acknowledging that women can in fact be abusers, and men can in fact be victims.

So instead we get a group of relative strangers rubbernecking the tragedy of an abused man and going out of their way to heap the blame on the victim. At one point Lucanis literally says that he ‘should have just said no’ which is the kind of talk you hear about victims of assault and abuse all the time from the worst kind of people. I should know, because I’ve had the exact same experience.

It’s not just a disappointment. Disappointment doesn’t begin to touch it. I feel sick and I feel betrayed. I came to Dragon Age with DAI. It remains my favorite (or was, now the whole thing just makes me depressed) because, despite how dark things got, compassion and empathy were always there. The abused always had a voice, however singular, to stand up for them and defend them. Not so here.

There’s a sense of callousness and mean spiritedness that permeates Veilguard. Not sure if that was the intention, but that’s what we got. I couldn’t even finish the game—‘just say no’ was the last straw for me—but against my better judgement I looked into the endings, and really that was my mistake. Because the ‘good ending’ essentially boils down to the abuser oh so magnanimously releasing her victim while a group of strangers gaslight him into submission. I don’t really understand how we got here, but I hope the Devs understand just how damaging a message they ended up with. I know what it’s like to be judged with malignant bias by people determined to hate you while your abuser is lauded and praised. Because abusers are often charismatic and excellent at keeping up a saintly appearance to hide their monstrosity and further alienate their victim. That’s what this feels like.

They can try and retcon it all they like, maybe new players won’t notice, but anyone who remembers the last three games knows better. Flemeth and Mythal may have been victims once, but both went on to use and abuse the people closest to them. Sugarcoating them in the interest of ignoring/making their victims look worse is genuinely vile.

I don’t know who let this change happen, but they’ve contributed to an already skewed public perception about what abuse looks like and how abusers get away with their crimes.

[andrastie]

So I'm about halfway (maybe a bit less) through Veilguard and am loving the game!

My biggest issue, however, is the lack of choices that carried through from Inquisition and the previous two game. I feel like Dragon Age Keep made the games more personalized based on the choices you made in the previous games.

For example, I was screaming when we got the little cameo of King Alistair in Inquisiton and the mention of my Coulsand Warden as the Queen of Fereldan.

Here are some things I wish had been included in the new game based on decisions made in my canon Inquisiton run (very very mild spoilers):

Divine Victoria mention - based on who we supported to be the new Divine in Inquisiton. I supported Leliana. When Harding is talking about the Inquisiton advisors and Leliana comes up, I would have loved a line about how she's settled in to her new position as Divine Victoria.

Codex entry about the Orlesian civil war - I read a codex entry in Veilguard about Empress Celene and I'm pretty sure one of the companions mentions her (I can't think of who). I chose to sacrifice Celene and put Gaspard on the throne with Briala pulling his strings. Maybe the codex could mention her assassination or another could talk about whether or not Briala still holds the power behind the Orlaisian throne.

Stroud - where the fuck is Stroud?? I sacrificed Hawke so that the Grey Wardens had a senior Warden with a brain that could step up and lead them. Yet their new Warden Commander still has no brain. Where is Stroud???

Hawke mention - an acknowledgement of whether or not we left Hawke in the Fade (I did). Maybe a comment or codex entry from Varric wondering if Hawke is still somewhere in the Fade, like he is now. We don't have to see Hawke, just a comment or codex would do.

Inquisiton companion updates from Harding - kind of like how in Inquisiton you could ask Varric or Hawke about the DA2 companions and they'd give you little updates. For example, "Cassandra rebuilt the Seekers," or "The Iron Bull and his chargers still take jobs across Thedas, more recently against the Antaam. That's gotta be awkward," or things like that, referencing what trajectory we set the companions on (Cassandra pro seeker-rebuild or Iron Bull Tal-Vashoth).

Grey Warden decision fall out - one of the big choices in Dragon Age: Inquisiton was choosing to banish the Grey Wardens or absorb them into the Inquisiton. I chose the later, knowing we'd probably need them in the new game. Maybe a comment from Davrin about how when he first joined the Wardens, he briefly served the Inquisiton, or one from Dorian when he confronts the Warden Commander, saying something like "My friend's mercy is the only reason you still stand to fight the blight".

Idk, I'd love to see people's own ideas and headcanons regarding their past choices so please let me know what you think they should have added based on previous game decisions!

I understand them wanting this to feel like a new game, not bogged down by the last games, but the suggestions I made were mostly one-off comments or codex entries that don't require voice recordings. Having three codex entries for the three Divine candidates and then just rotating them depending on the player choice wouldn't have been that hard... I don't think?

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 2

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, offscreen dubcon, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

It didn’t take long to find the spirit. As soon as she was alone he appeared once more, his wide hat creating a distinct silhouette out of the corner of her eye. 

As soon as she caught sight of him she whipped around to face him.

“You,” she hissed out, keeping her voice low just in case of prying ears. She was certain Leliana had some around. “Need to leave immediately.”

Cole seemed uninterested in responding to what she had said, instead announcing, “I tied myself to you. Cole was gone so I needed something to help me get back out. If I kill you, I get pulled away and I can’t fix the hurt.”

She stepped back cautiously. “Kill me?”

He nodded. “You hurt people. You shouldn’t be here anymore, but things don’t come through the fade often. You were the only choice.”

“So we’re stuck together?” she asked, praying that the answer would be no.

“Not physically. When you are here, I am here. If you are in the fade I will follow. If you’re nowhere then I have to go back because I have nothing to hold onto anymore.”

She threw her arms up. “So you don’t need to be here then. Just go somewhere else and do your creepy spirit thing there. Leave me out of it. I’ll promise I won’t die and you promise to leave me alone. Everyone’s happy.”

He shook his head in the most adamant way she’d ever seen him do anything. It almost felt like there were real emotions behind it. “I take away the hurt,” he said, sounding almost distressed. “You cause more hurt than not. I need you to stay but I need to help more than you hurt.”

Typical that she got the one creature from the fade that was against any harm coming to humans piggybacking onto her brain. 

“I’m not hurting anyone here,” she said in a poor attempt to defend herself. 

“You will. You always do. I can see it. You don’t know anything else.”

The way he spoke made her nervous. She could tell he was dangerous, unstable, potentially violent. 

And none of her other tricks worked on him, so she figured she could be too. 

She drew her rarely used dagger and slammed him against the wall as soon as the idea occurred to her, trying her best to avoid him reading the intention off of her and getting out of the way.

He seemed in no rush to get out from under her blade, just looking down at her, both of them now hidden underneath the brim of his hat together. 

She could see his eyes this way, revealing they were an unnervingly light shade of blue. She could see the way his hair covered them almost entirely and wondered if the fade spat him out looking so shaggy on purpose. But then, he mentioned another Cole before, maybe he’d been here longer, had stolen his name while his hair grew. 

Did he even know he could cut his hair?

It didn’t really matter, was entirely besides the point.

The flat of her blade sat against his throat, pressing against his flesh. She held him back with her other hand and felt he was inhumanly cool to the touch. 

“It’s lonely,” said the spirit, unconcerned with the new threat pressed against him. “It doesn’t like being used in the dark, never seen, stowed away.”

Her fingers tensed around the handle. 

Most of the people who’d felt the dagger’s other end hadn’t had any idea it was coming. They’d been asleep or calmed by practiced airs that only the blade would betray. 

She preferred to not let it come to this. Those uses were few and far between, massively eclipsed by soft looks and a willingness to agree.

“Just need to help more than you hurt,” he insisted. “I need to mend as you break and break and break.”

“What would you do, if I hurt more people than you helped?” That was the only question that mattered, the thing he kept leaving unsaid. 

“I’d kill you. And then things would be balanced.”

“You won’t kill me. You also will not interrupt my presence here. You can’t stop me,” she hissed. “I won’t let you.”

“Yes, I could. But I can’t. For them, not for you. You cause the hurt, guilt heaving, dizzy with worry. You leave the good ones with blame and the bad ones don’t care. The only ones who hurt are the ones who never would.”

“They all would. They all did. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull wouldn’t if he knew how it pulled at you, tugged at wounds, ripped and healed, ripped and healed. Too long scarred to feel anything anymore.”

“I need him,” she said, because she did. He’d responded best to her little ploy, had allowed himself to be endeared to her. She needed a protector and he seemed happy to do so for the precious little thing that fawned over him. 

The horrible creature nodded. “You need him. He wants you. The scales are off. It’s all in the book.”

She pushed the dagger further into him, the pressure almost nicking his skin. “You will tell no one about that book or I swear, I will gut you.”

He shook his head sadly. “You would, but you can’t. I’m too slippery for you, you’re too slow, limbs dragging in years of stillness. You’re afraid to move, afraid it gives you away. Played weak for too long and now it’s all you are.”

“Fine then,” she said, taking stock of the man in front of her, filing away the chinks in his armor to list out in her book full of nothing but flaws and weaknesses. “Tell them and I swear I will hurt them. I will use all those words in my book to tear them apart however I can and you cannot stop it all. You cannot stop as much hurt as I can cause. I think you and I both know that it is faster to break than to mend.”

He froze, the cool blade of the lonely dagger steady against his throat. 

“I won’t tell. Try not to hurt them. I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he was gone, leaving nothing but a blade held up against streaks of green hanging in midair. 

She wanted to sit on the floor. To curl up in a ball or scream or do something to stop feeling pinned. 

But she had things to do, and so she set off to find Bull. 

It wasn’t hard, he was difficult to miss. He stood in the training area, towering over everyone else who resided there. 

She gave him a shy wave and he grinned back at her, flexing a little in a way she was sure he thought was subtle. 

She noticed it every time. It was embarrassing for him, turning her stomach a little, but she fawned over him as she sidled up at his side. 

He gave her a once over, hand shifting down to tilt her chin up. “Some nasty bruising on you. You did real good, fought hard.”

She beamed up at him, quietly pleased there were marks left behind, a physical reminder of why they shouldn’t be sending her on missions. 

It was partially unavoidable. Her accidental trip through the fade had given her the ability to shut gaps in between the world and the fade and that wasn’t exactly a replaceable position, but surely they didn’t need to send her out quite as often as they did. 

“I should’ve been there,” he added, fingers stroking lightly over the bruising. “He shouldn’t have been able to get to you so easily.”

She shrugged and fought off a spiteful comment. “You did your best. I could never begrudge you that. Besides, everything turned out okay, didn’t it?”

“Mostly. Who’s that weird kid hanging around?” he grunted. 

She turned to see Cole, perched up on one of the roofs, staring down at them. “He’s a spirit. He saved my life so we’re letting him stay.”

Bull’s brows raised immediately. “Right. And you signed off on that?”

She sighed. “Sort of. I think it’ll be okay.”

“So optimistic,” he said with a chuckle. “Now come on, you’re going to start training more.”

“What?” she asked as he thrust a bow into her hands. 

“You heard me. Next time, you need to be ready. I can’t always be there to protect you.”

She could feel Cole’s eyes on her as she began to train. 

Bull was the obvious choice of protector. Prone to forming casual attachments, easily flatterable, the biggest guy around. Even if he wasn’t a damn good fighter, he’d be a great shield. There was no one else here who could cover that much surface area. 

But now, being forced to train, she was starting to regret it. Maybe she could switch gears and convince Cullen to go on missions with her, or figure out something that would make Blackwall less weird around her. 

But no, an easy target as good as Bull wasn’t something she could pass up, even if every flirtatious touch to her side or murmur that she was doing “real good” made her stomach turn and a pit of dread start to form inside her. 

She knew where this was leading, what the price for his protection was, even if Bull didn’t know the terms of the deal. 

But she’d done this before. She could handle it. 

And so she suffered through what felt like hours of archery practice. She only hit the target twice but then, she wasn’t really trying to. 

Her attempt to get Bull to give up on her proved ineffective, but there was some entertainment to be found in seeing how badly she could miss and still get praised.

As she hit a tree that was about six feet to the left and a handful of feet back from the target, Bull muttered, “Well at least you hit something,” before giving Rosemary a soft pat on the back. “That’s enough for today. What you lack in skill you make up for in perseverance. Keep on trying, you’ll be a deadshot before you know it. Good to see you’ve got stamina at least.” He shot her a wink with his final comment. 

She wanted to throw up, but she gave him a shy smile instead, thinking of old embarrassing stories to force herself into a soft blush. 

He seemed pleased with her response, wandering over to go talk to some of his troops. They had a name, she was certain. The Champions, or something like that. 

It didn’t really matter.

She left for her quarters, content with her progress. Cole was there, perched on the end of her bed. 

“I don’t think you know what leaving me alone means,” she said, throwing her jacket at him as she pulled it off.

“I do know,” he said as the jacket missed him entirely, and he seemed unconcerned that his indifference actually made it worse. “You’re learning to fight.”

“I am,” she said, throwing her inner coat to the floor as the warmth of the fire filled room washed over her. 

“Why?”

“Bull’s making me,” she huffed as she shed more of her thick woolen layers, built for the cold. 

“You are… I didn’t know it came off,” he said. 

She shrugged off the last of her clothes and pulled on her night things. They weren’t quite as warm as her day clothes but at least they were less bulky. “What, you thought I just looked like that? Fur and all? I thought you could see in my head.”

The first thing she’d done when she’d gotten here and realized how cold it was had been to insist on acquiring a pile of furs, ones she’d since bundled up in religiously. 

His eyes were still fixed on the pile of clothes. “Not always. You didn’t know it in a way I could hear.”

So he didn’t have unfettered access to everything in her head. That was good at least.

“I see the hurt and the things that help,” he decided to clarify. “You’re mostly hurt so it’s easy to see.”

“So you what?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. “You just go around helping people by reading their minds? That’s what you expect me to believe?”

“Just because no one ever helped you doesn’t mean no one ever helps. You don’t even give them the chance anymore.”

A knock sounded at her door and she turned to look, surprised Cole didn’t immediately disappear at the noise. He seemed content to linger.

“Yes?” she called, deciding whether she’d try and shoo Cole away before this new visitor came in.

She heard Cullen’s voice, muffled by the wood of the door, as he asked, “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.”

Cole watched as the door squeaked open slowly, Cullen slowly entering like he didn’t quite believe her when she said she was clothed. 

He froze the second he saw Cole. 

“You make him nervous,” Cole said, at full volume and with no regard for the way the words made Cullen’s eyes widen and his face flush. 

“What is he talking about?” Cullen demanded. “Why is he here?”

“He doesn’t seem to want to leave,” she said and she watched anger flash across Cullen’s face. 

Cole seemed to pick up on this, although she imagined it was from his thoughts and not any ability to read facial expressions. 

“I told you harboring a spirit was a bad idea,” Cullen hissed at her.

“The mages are safe from me,” Cole said. “I don’t want them. I won’t make you hurt them again.”

Cullen tensed immediately, ready to bolt. “I came to tell you that you’re heading to the Hinterlands tomorrow to help with more rifts,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Is that wise?” she asked, wishing Cole hadn’t put him in a bad mood before she had to try and wriggle her way out of another dangerous assignment. 

“The rifts need to be dealt with, you will handle them,” he said, and then set off immediately, obviously eager to get away from the spirit and giving her no time to argue her case. 

The door slammed shut behind him. 

“I made it worse,” Cole said softly. 

“Look at you, you’re upsetting more people than me,” she said with a scoff, finding this all very amusing right up until she remembered the threats that had been leveled at her if Cole felt their collective presence wasn’t doing good for the world.

He seemed distressed and contemplative, but at least it seemed like few of those thoughts were directed at her. The less he thought about her, the better. 

And then he turned to her, his eyes obscured by his hat. “Can I come?”

“What?”

“Cullen said you’re going to the Hinterlands. I want to see them.”

Everything in her wanted to turn him down but perhaps it was best to keep an eye on him, at least until she got a better grasp on what he was like. 

“Can you even fight?”

He nodded, pulling daggers out from some unseen place on his person. “I’m quick and they are sharp. We can both do our job. Who do you want me to fight?”

She thought hard, trying to remember if there would be any people Cole would refuse to fight against on the other side. 

It was hard. To her, everyone on the other side had committed the most egregious sin of all, trying to hurt her. She supposed Cole didn’t think like that, that he was interested in a far more complicated tangle of emotions, intentions, actions, and regrets. 

“I don’t know if they’re bad,” she said carefully. “But they’re hurting the people there.”

He nodded. “Sometimes that's enough. I will fight.”

That was a relief. At least she probably wouldn’t have to deal with him becoming a turncoat mid fight. 

He seemed to read the acceptance from her mind. “I will go. You want to put me in your book.”

And then he was gone. 

She wondered if he meant he’d go now or tomorrow. She supposed it could have been either. More likely it was both. He didn’t seem one to repeat himself when a single statement would do. 

Now alone in her room, she kneeled down, pulling up the loose floorboard and moving aside the scattered leaves, picking up her notebook. 

It was absolutely filled with information on everyone at the Inquisition. On patterns of behavior, on what made their eyes soften when they looked at her, on which enemies they swung their swords the hardest at. She carefully noted who she thought she could turn against who and which people were too close to try safely. She wrote which people she could get to through others, like the way Bull’s group, called the Chargers in her book, regarded her with softer eyes because of the way Bull had come to shield her in battle and look for her first when he returned without her. 

And she created a section for Cole.

She had little to say. He was dangerous, she knew that much for certain. He could read her mind, seemingly everyone’s. He couldn’t be that clever because she could think of a dozen ways he could keep himself tethered to this plane while still doing something to incapacitate or declaw her, and yet he’d done none of it. 

Or alternatively, perhaps worse, maybe he knew it all. Had come up with on his own or had plucked it from her. Because then, he wasn’t stopping her for a reason, some horrible plan he had for her. 

She needed something on him. It was hard. He wasn’t unemotional, but he had this undeniable practicality to him where she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt himself if it balanced out his little equation of harm and help. 

She wished she’d been stuck with a demon. Vices she could handle. In fact, she handled very little else. 

Virtues were harder. Faking them was easy enough, but she hadn’t had the privilege of being allowed to be virtuous in a long time. 

She wrote everything in her journal. Cole knew where it was, but he could pluck it out of her mind regardless, what did it matter if he read it out of the book?

Could he even read? She couldn’t imagine spirits had anyone to teach them, but then again he knew how to speak. Maybe they had some inherent knowledge to them. 

She looked down at the pile of her furs and warm clothes lying on the ground. He clearly had some gaps in his information about humans.

It didn’t matter. The less he knew the better, but there was nothing she could do about the things he already knew. 

She should be careful about the things she said around him. 

She chastised herself for the thought. He could see in her head, she could not play this how she typically did. 

Another knock sounded at the door and she quickly tucked the book away before forcing out a polite, “Yes?”

Varric’s voice called out a friendly, “It’s me.”

She felt her anger melt a little and called him in. She liked Varric, against her better judgment. 

She imagined most people liked Varric. He was easy to like, easy to talk to, acted like you’d been friends for years. 

“You talk to the spirit kid yet?” he asked, and she deflated a little.

“More than I’d like.”

Varric chuckled. “He does have a lost puppy energy about him, I’m not surprised he’s following you around like one. I had a talk to him earlier about the way he was staring at people. Said it was off putting and he said he’d just make it so they couldn’t see him. Said he wanted to help. I poked him a little and he admitted he was curious too.”

She sighed. “I’m glad you talked to him. Someone had to do it, and you were probably the best one for the job. I was half convinced Cullen was going to run him through when I saw them talk.”

“We wouldn’t want that. He's off putting, but I think he means well.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“A little birdie said you’re heading out tomorrow,” he added, giving her a knowing look.

“Who, Cassandra?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, Cassandra. So are you?”

She nodded.

“Mind if I tag along?” he asked. “The kid sounded like he wanted to see some stuff, I figured it would be good to show him some of the world. We could see what he’s like out there.”

“I already told him he could tag along, but if you want to babysit you’re more than welcome.” 

“I’m happy to. Someone’s gotta do it and everybody else seems ready to slit his throat.”

She shrugged. “He’s a spirit, it’s scary, I get it.”

“Yeah, maybe. Not his fault though. And how old are you anyways? Sometimes I feel like I should be babysitting you too.”

She wasn’t sure how old she was. She’d been seventeen when she’d come here but it had been some months since then, she was fairly certain her birthday had long since passed her by. 

She hadn’t told them that, of course. It was antithetical to how she needed them to see her. She wanted to seem young, certainly, but not that young. 

She’d been saying she was twenty one for weeks and then one day Leliana asked and she’d sounded so judgmental so she’d blurted out twenty five. Blackwall thought she was twenty five too. She’d decided a twenty one year old would trigger that seemingly ever present instinct in him to feel guilty about everything if she ever needed to do a hard pivot in his direction. 

So now there was a spread of beliefs going around and she wasn’t sure what to say. She looked at Varric and said, “Twenty five,” figuring he was old enough that he’d see her as too young either way. 

“Too young for this shit,” he said, and she just nodded. She didn't think she was, not really, even at her real age. But Varric didn’t need to know that. 

“Maybe. The fade didn’t seem to think so.”

“Do you think there was a reason it was you? Religious or otherwise?”

She shook her head. “Just bad luck. Pretty standard for me.”

He laughed that low, gravelly laugh that had the women in the taverns they visited swooning. “Well, let’s see if we can turn that around for you. And hey, Rosie?”

“Yeah?” she asked, worried about his tone getting serious. Varric so rarely got serious. 

“If you need anything, just ask, okay? They expect a whole lot of you, but everyone needs help sometimes.”

“Of course,” she lied.

[broodwolf221]

playing here lies the abyss so ofc i'm having feelings. so have some cyren/solas angst cw: character death (as in canon, in the bad future)

They—

They made it back. Did they make it back? Alexius was right there, looking defeated. She reacted. Everything moved too fast, fast enough that she felt like she was in one of those time distortions, her surroundings lurching past her with a sickening speed. Somehow she ended up talking with the king. She barely knew what she was saying, because she could hardly take her eyes off of Solas.

As soon as they were moving away she grabbed him; he gasped as she pressed him against a wall, her head tucked against his chest. She heard Dorian saying something to Varric and Cassandra, then multiple people walking away. After a few moments, Solas' hands came up to rest against her bare back and she shivered. "What happened?"

His voice. His voice was right. It didn't have that sick crackle from the lyrium. It didn't—

"You died," she gasped against him. "You fucking died! You died saving me, giving us time, and the lyrium poisoned you and you died and I—"

"Shh," he murmured, stroking her back.

"—I had to keep going, I couldn't save you! Why wouldn't you let me save you!" She refused to lift her face. She'd been crying ever since she'd pressed against him, and she didn't want him to see her like this. To see her so desperate and weak. "Why did you die? Solas, why did you die? I saw—I saw you—"

He shushed her again, gentle and soothing. His hand was warm on her back. "I am here."

"I can't lose you again. Never again. I can't do it, Solas."

There was a long silence and she bit her tongue. What was she saying? A kiss in the Fade and nothing since, and here she was, dumping all this at his feet. But her heart wouldn't stop racing and she couldn't stop seeing his lifeless body flung towards her.

She felt cruel. Varric had been there. Leliana. Her heart ached for them, too. But it was Solas' blank face that stood out in her mind, Solas' empty eyes that she could not rid herself of. She pressed in tighter with a sob, desperate and disgusted with herself. "Everyone died," she confessed. "Everyone. But it's— I'm not— Solas—"

She didn't feel like herself. She always knew her way forward. She always had control over herself. She wasn't given to emotional outbursts like this. Wasn't given to tears. She stood her ground. She was clear. This is how I will be treated, this is how I will be respected, this is how far I will bend. People either met her expectations, or they did not. She did not chase after those who did not.

So why was she chasing after Solas…? Constantly chasing after him.

Because he exceeded your expectations, she reminded herself grimly, sniffling. Frustrated by how true it was. She felt seen with him. Known. She was no Herald, not in his eyes. And even though they'd butted heads on it for a while, she knew he recognized her as a Dalish. But she was also herself. She was part of her clan and always would be, just as much as she was a woman and always would be, but these things were not the full extent of her, either. He saw them and saw the rest of her.

She valued him. She… didn't want to admit the rest, even to herself. But his blank eyes weighed heavily upon her. So heavily.

"I love you," she breathed against his shirt, softly enough that she figured he hadn't heard. But she felt him stiffen, felt and heard him inhale sharply, exhale slowly.

He kissed the top of her head and she pressed in tighter, shoulders shaking as her tears kept coming. And she let them come, now. She let them soak into his tunic. And he held her throughout, rubbing gently along her back.

[mumms-the-word]

Love Letters

Alistair and Lucy Amell

These letters were written as a collaboration between @callmethebrightness and myself for the lovely @elspethdekarios's birthday. callmethebrightness wrote the AMAZING letter from Alistair (and I'm obsessed with it, she nailed his voice so well) while I wrote Lucy Amell's reply letter <3 This was so much fun to work on and I am in awe of the talent my friends have in this little corner of tumblr. Thank you @elspethdekarios for trusting us with your OC! I hope you have the happiest of birthdays and that you adore these love letters!

Full text under the cut!

Alistair's Letter by @callmethebrightness

To Warden-Commander Lucy Amell, Hero of Ferelden: Lucy, I love you. I know, bad form to start a letter like that; without even a hello and how are you, but it's literally the only thing that comes to mind when I think of you, so I had to write it down first. I love you. There. Now to the rest. We're making strides looking into the Wardens and Corypheus, this "false Calling" he's managed, though it's not the sort of progress I'm particularly excited about. Every time I think I've figured out the worst of it, more bad news rears its ugly head. I'm a bit less skeptical now that we have some proper allies: not only the Champion of Kirkwall, but Inquisitor Sulah Lavellan, who has all her people putting their heads together to do something about all this. We should consider having an army at our disposal for all our problems, it's really marvelously convenient. Skyhold is an amazing place. Not just the fortress itself, where I've gotten into all sorts of places I shouldn't be ("Oh, I haven't seen this door before" -- surprise, it's a dungeon. No, thank you.) but the people and the activity here. It feels like everyone from the servants to the Inquisitor herself is committed to working together. I've met Fereldans, Orlesians, city elves, surface dwarves, ex-Templars, mages, farmers, nobles, Chantry sisters, Dalish spies, qunari, Tevinters...I could go on. If anything might be able to actually unite all of Thedas, the way the Chantry says it does, it's this thing. It's this place. Maker, I wish you could see it. Every time I see something incredible in my travels, I think that, you know. "Lucy would love this, I wish she could see it." And every time I see something horrible I think, "Maker, I wish Lucy was with me." You get the idea, don't you? You, with me, all the time, no matter what. Sometimes you're all I think about. But you knew that already. We're going to figure this thing out, Lucy. I'm going to make sure the Wardens have nothing more to fear from this Elder One, even if I have to fight him myself. And when you return, whether you've found what you're looking for or not, and I see you again -- I'm going to take you in my arms and never let you go. I mean it. That's not an exaggeration. I never want to be apart from you again, Lucy. Nothing is more important to me than that. What else? I love you. I miss you. Leliana is scarier than ever, but in a good way. I've eaten Orlesian cheese and do not care for it. I miss you. I told the Inquisition's ambassador I would include a small note in their missive to the Hero of Ferelden but my letter is now longer than the official one. I hope those creepy ravens of Leliana's can carry a little extra weight. When you see it, write her back and tell her it's creepy; she won't listen to me. There are less terrible birds, Leliana. Maker, I miss you so much I don't want to stop writing to you. Is that odd? Probably. But you wouldn't say odd. "Alistair, you're too sweet." That's what you always say when I'm being a fool, especially a lovestruck fool. Can't say I don't appreciate it, though. I'll write you again soon. There's talk of the fortress at Adamant, a potential siege. All sorts of military talk I do not care for. Whatever happens, you'll hear from me soon. I never can stand to wait long. Yours forever, Alistair

Lucy Amell's Letter (by me)

To Warden Alistair: [In a smaller script] Leliana, don’t be nosy! You’ve got your own letter! My darling, I love you. I don’t care if it’s bad form, just seeing those words at the start of your letter gave me so much joy and comfort that I couldn’t even read the rest of letter at first. I just wanted to linger there on those words and imagine them in your voice. I love you. I love you. I love you. And, Maker’s breath, I miss you, too. As my journey out west bring me farther and farther away from recognizable society, I find myself traveling alone more often than not. There are good people out here, and plenty of interesting distractions, and more than enough danger to keep my mind occupied, but again and again I wish you were at my side. I know taking down the Elder One is important, but these days I wish I had been more selfish and brought you along. But what’s done is done, and it’s good that you’re there, trying to shake some sense into our fellow Wardens. Someone has to.  What you’ve told me about the situation, and what little Inquisitor Lavellan has included in her letter, troubles me. It sounds like Corypheus is more dangerous than we thought…but if the Inquisition has the army and the resources that you say it does, then I trust them to succeed. And I trust you to survive whatever comes your way. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes, the two of us, haven’t we? Regardless, I’ve asked Inquisitor Lavellan to look after you. I know, I know, you would say I’m fussing over you too much (but I know you love it). But if she’s your ally, then she’s my ally too, and I feel no shame in asking this much of her. I want you in one piece when we meet again, my love. Be good for me. Don’t wander into dungeons that you can’t wander out of. Avoid the Orlesian cheese if you hate it so much. Remind Leliana to eat every now and again. I know her work keeps her busy, and I can only imagine that the death of the Divine has shaken her more than she’s letting on. And take care of yourself, too.  Oh, and I’m not telling Leliana that her birds are creepy. Just be glad she’s not sending missives via nug, or we’d never get letters to one another. I’ll write soon, my darling. I love you. I miss you. Yours always, Lucy [below, in a messier scrawl, as if added to the end of the page in haste] Alistair, I’m glad I didn’t send this letter right away! I’ve got big news. I think I’ve found something, and if I’m right, it means the end of this journey is in sight. I don’t want to say what it is just yet, but…I have a really good feeling about this. This might be the cure we’ve been hoping for.  But if not, I don’t care. If it’s not this, then I’ve got nothing else to investigate out here. If this isn’t our cure, then the silver lining is this—I’m coming home, and nothing is going to stop me. Meet me in Redcliffe when all of this is said and done. Whether I’ve found the cure for our Callings or not, I will be there, in the place we first started to fall in love, at the start of the next summer. And once we are together again, my love, I swear that nothing will ever separate us again. With all my love, Lucy

[shift-shaping]

devour

solas takes enaste to the fade. poor decisions are made.

rating: m

pairing: solavellan

previous fics | 1 2 3 4 5 6

To shape the Fade into a form Enaste would recognize was no small task, but Solas needed her to feel comfortable for her first exploration of it. Her half-bare feet crunched on the gravel road leading into Haven. She looked around her, transfixed by the sights and sounds of his recreation. The smell of fire, pine, and cold filled the air. He heard the distant shrieks of magpies, the cutting winter wind, the braying of a mule. The village of Haven breathed to life around them, unharmed and whole.The illusion was complete, and would be stable as long as she did not panic.

"I'm pleased to see you were able to rest, Inquisitor." She turned slowly, taking it all in, and her warm green-brown eyes fell on him with a foggy, dim recognition.

"I..."

He approached her slowly, and she blinked in confusion. "Take your time. Do you recall where you are?" He kept his voice low and gentle. The ringing of an anvil caught her attention, and she shook her head suddenly, as if to clear her thoughts.

"This is Haven." She looked at him again. "I remember."

"Well done." He said it without any irony: it was good that she stabilized herself without his assistance, and the praise made her relax.

"Solas." His name on her lips made his heart stir. Had it always? Or was it the amplified emotions of the Fade? She looked up towards the chantry, eyes narrowing in the bright sunlight. "Why here?"

"Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you." He gestured up the steps, through the gate, and led her up the hill.

"Did we--'' She stopped for a moment, looking behind her, then shook her head again and looked at him. "Ir abelas. I feel... off."

"In what sense?"

"I..." Tempted as he was to help her, he did not. Learning to center her mind was vital if she wanted to continue this dream, and he’d already given her the training necessary to do so. "No." He smiled slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. "I'm alright. A lot happened here."

"Indeed." He led her through the chantry doors, into the dungeon below. In a dark room, lit by sparse candlelight, they stood before a set of chains bolted to the floor.

"I remember this room..." Her voice was more confident now, more solid. "Cassandra and Leliana interrogated me here. I was so confused. I... don't recall ever being so scared before." She looked at the chains in the center of the prison. "I had no idea why they were so angry with me, but I know what the Chantry thinks of my people." She blinked slowly. Her voice was pained. "I believed I would die here, probably painfully, and my clan would never know what happened."

"Yet you survived, lethallan." He had witnessed more of her imprisonment than she had, and it was better she not know all that was said about her.

"Thanks to you, as I understand." It had nearly been the opposite. He had intended to remove the anchor by any means necessary, even if she had to be sacrificed for it. Part of him still thought it the wiser choice. The rest of him felt nauseous even considering it, knowing now what a massive waste it would have been.

"I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor."

"Wasn't I out for days?" She looked at him with furrowed brows. "How long can it take to look at a mark on my hand?"

To look at the mark? Minutes. To decide whether he should try to remove it, or just kill her? Days. She did not need to know that, though, and it was not a thought he should linger on. "A magical mark of unknown origin, tied to a unique breach in the Veil? Longer than you might think. I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing."

"I... am glad it wasn't boring, then."

"No. Quite the opposite. Cassandra suspected duplicity, and threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn't produce results."

Enaste smirked and rolled her eyes. "Cassandra's like that with everyone."

He barked a laugh. She was getting used to being here; he could feel her presence solidly beside him, and that she felt steady enough to make jokes was reassuring. "Come, there is more to discuss." He led her back outside, into the bright sunlight, under the eye of the swirling Breach high overhead. "You were never going to wake up. How could you? A mortal sent physically through the Fade." He stopped near the path towards the apothecary, where their view of the Breach was clear. "I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted were driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra... or she in me. I was ready to flee."

"To flee?" She cocked her head with interest. "After all that?"

"Without the promise of protection? And minimal likelihood of your recovery?"

"But where would you have gone? Rifts threaten the whole world. And you would have been on Cassandra's shit list forever, regardless."

He snorted, unused to her cursing in common. "'Shit list'?"

Enaste balked defensively. "Varric says it all the time."

"Ah. Ever the master at wordplay, our dwarven friend is." She frowned at him, but he could tell she was trying not to smile. Her eyes were alight, more green now in the light of the Breach --and just as entrancing. "I would have gone somewhere far away, where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me."

She let herself smile now, and even here, it disarmed him. "I’m glad you stayed."

He returned her smile. "I never said it was a good plan." He turned away from her, towards the Breach, and gestured towards it. "I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts."

"On your own?"

He nodded. "It may feel like a fool's errand now, but what other hope did we have?" She stepped closer to him, looking up at the Breach herself. "I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then..." He turned to her, and she looked down at her left palm. He lowered his voice. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." Their eyes met. He went on. "You had sealed it with a gesture... and right then, I felt the whole world change."

She inhaled sharply. Unlike when they had actually lived in Haven, she wore the vest and pants that Josephine arranged for her as Inquisitor, clothing that would have been unsuitable for the valley's freezing winds. They were tight-fitting, and somewhat --revealing. He kept his eyes on her face, on her full lips and soft eyes and grey-streaked black hair, and held his wrist tightly behind his back. She tilted her head, her smirk subtler now. "Felt the whole world change?"

He returned her smile, and squeezed his left wrist tighter. "A figure of speech."

"Is that really... all it is?" She was close to him now, watching him, her gaze just as intense as when she'd asked him to her quarters, or when she told him she could choose to submit. She bit her lip. There was a scar on the left side of her mouth, sharp and deep. What would it feel like to run his thumb across it, across her lips?

"You change... everything." The words came out before he could stop them, but he didn't want to stop them. He wanted them to be false, and he was tired of lying to her. There needed to be some truth he could give her, even if she deserved so much more.

Her cheeks were flushed pink, but she shouldn't feel the cold here. "You're sweet, when you want to be," she said, and her voice was so soft and low.

He needed to end the dream.

Instead he felt her hand on his cheek, turning him to look at her. Then she pressed her warm, soft lips to his. Heat pulsed through his blood, chasing out whatever was in his mind, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

She pulled away, too quickly, and a single thought came roaring back: absolutely not. He grasped her by the arm and brought her lips back to his in a desperate kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, felt the slope of her back, the curve of her waist in his hands. His tongue traced her lower lip just as he'd imagined so many times before, and a sharp gasp escaped her. He tightened his hold, pulled her close to him, her chest pressed to his so that he felt the swell of her full breasts against his body. Her hands grasped at his sides, tugging on his shirt, as though she could somehow bring him even closer.

He wanted to devour her.

She opened her mouth to him and their tongues met, heat rushing in what little space could be found between their bodies. Another noise slipped from her: a quiet, breathy sound half-way between a moan and a gasp. He leaned her back and pushed his thigh between her legs, pressing into her, earning another shuddering inhale into his mouth. Again she grasped at him, fingers gripping his shirt, then opening to splay across his lower back.

He shifted, pressing his leg harder into the meet of her thighs, and a full-body shudder raced through her. He felt it, felt her, and even when he pulled back to catch his breath the only thought he had was how badly he wanted to feel her come undone. He shook his head, taking in her reddened face and the wash of color on her chest. She reached up to touch his cheek, and if he didn't return to her he suddenly felt he would melt into the floor.

He kissed her again, just as hungrily. Her hand stayed on his cheek, surprisingly gentle for how desperately she'd pulled at him before. It was almost a caress, moving from his cheek to the back of his neck again, sending shivers down his spine. Need pulsed in his core: need for her body, her touch, her. And now he knew with certainty that she needed him, too.

With a sudden and brutal clarity, his heart dropped like a stone.

He pulled back, hands raised as if to ward her away. She blinked at him, slightly dazed, hand still hovering where he was a heartbeat before. "We shouldn't," he sputtered. "It isn't right." He retreated further, putting more distance between them. "Not even here." It wasn't enough. This was a terrible mistake, and he had to end it now.

She looked around, still flushed, visibly confused. "This isn't real."

He smirked at her, appreciating the irony. "That's a matter of debate." He exhaled, determined to compose himself. "Perhaps best discussed after you wake up."

He forced her from the dream. It was all he could think to do. That meant she was awake, and would certainly come to find him in the waking world.

What was he thinking? She wasn't even supposed to exist --her world wasn't supposed to exist. It would be better to stop this now, to end it before it went too far.

Unless, of course, it had already gone too far. She trusted him, went out of her way to spend time with him, and he'd stood at her side for nearly all of her endeavors. Their relationship was already inappropriate in the eyes of some --he had overheard the rumors from their allies, and he knew she had as well.

The only ending to this was cruelty. The only difference was in degree. But the thought of what rejecting her now would do to her, of never having a meaningful conversation with her again, of ending her training just as she showed so much promise, was too much to bear. He was weak, and selfish, and one day he would beg her forgiveness. He just wanted to put that day off a little longer.

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[findroleplay]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ Hello hello! 21+ mun (they/them) looking for STRICTLY 18+ roleplay partners and roleplays. I would prefer to write over discord in a server I create, since I can be a bit picky about it. I'm particularly looking for either fandom OR fandomless roleplays. I write lit to advanced lit (novella but only on occasion), and write in third person ONLY. I will not write in first, sorry!

Some fandoms I would be interested in would include…

House of the Dragon // Game of Thrones // Hazbin Hotel // Legend of Zelda (Breath of the Wild or Tears of the Kingdom specifically) // Dragon Age

For each one, I have some things I'm specifically looking for, and I'll listen them below.

♡ House of the Dragon — CCxCC mostly, however I am open to OCs if they're well developed and make sense. I'd like someone to write against my Rhaenyra, no matter the pairing, relationship, etc. (Preference of a Daemon, Laenor, another Targaryen, Aegon, or Alicent. However any CC welcome!)

♡ Game of Thrones — CCxCC mostly, too, however same as above. OCs welcome if well developed. I'd like to write a few characters, however I focus heavily on the Starks, particularly Sansa, and Daenerys. I'm willing to write against anyone. (No preference, but romance lean ideally.)

♡ Hazbin Hotel — CCxCC mostly, as I'm not fond of OCs for this. I can write a few characters: Charlie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie, and otherwise. Open to all manner of things here. No preference of who to write against, but I've been in the mood to try these characters out or write them again.

♡ BotW / TotK (Legend of Zelda) — CCxCC, not open to OCs for this. Particularly looking to write Zelda, Sidon, or Ganon against a Link. I can also write Link, but that's just not my preference. Open to other options but these are my priority. Also open to do something poly related between the four, but only with some decent development and plotting.

♡ Dragon Age — OCxCC only. OCxOC could work but I'm very selective here. I'd like to write some of my OCs against some canons, but I'm more than willing to write a canon for you in return. Preferences of Alistair, Leliana, or Zevran from Origins, Fenris or Merrill from DA2, and/or Solas, Iron Bull, Blackwall, or Josephine from DAI. (Open to Cole, Cullen, other Hawke's, and a few others.)

As for fandomless, I have a plethora of OCs I'd love to throw at people. For this, I typically like…

♡ Fantasy, pirates, magic systems, solarpunk, apocalyptic (zombies or not) themes, dead dove themes, god/sacrifice, mythological creature/human, found family, medieval themes, historical fiction, war, aliens, modern fantasy, and more. (This is generalized, and can be discussed further.)

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ Some things I'd really really love to include consist of — romance, angst, dead dove themes (we can discuss in private what that looks like), whump/caretaker, reunions, and so on. I'm a big fan of drama, and angst. I'll write multiple threads if I really vibe with someone, especially if we share a few fandoms. I generally shift and headcanon canons with their own identities, so please bear that in mind and be open to queer identities. I'd like to add some smut to this, from anywhere to a 50/50 to 80/20 plot to smut ratio, but that can be discussed. Do not bring me subby/bottoms, I will not only write top/doms. Kinks will be discussed privately. (Open to all manners of ships, mxm, mxf, fxf, anyxnb, poly, etc!)

&&&& I like to make friends with my roleplay partners. I do not ghost/block without good reason, and I refuse to engage with drama. If I have a problem, I voice it. Thanks for reading! If this sounds like it works for you, give a like and I'll reach out!

-

[heroesvow]

I need to get my thoughts out in the open, so here are my opinions if certain former companions / advisors are gonna pop up in DA4. I could be talking out of my ass here, so don't take any of this 100% seriously I have no idea how the story is gonna go and I could be surprised.

100% Confirmed - Solas ( Duh ) - Varric - Morrigan ( Still riding this high tbh ) - The Inquisitor ( Who knows what their role will be, but we get to customize them when we make our Rook so I'm excited to make my Inkys look tired and hot asf )

80% chance because it just makes SENSE. - Dorian ( We're in Tevinter, he's incredibly popular, and hopefully Maevaris pops up as well because she deserves to finally appear physically in a game. ) - Isabela ( This is my just me hoping tbh, but we're traveling to different places so her ship being our mode for transportation just makes sense to me. She showed up in concept art, and she's also dearly beloved by the fanbase. Bring her back ! )

50% chance because of locations, or possible small one scene moments for fun. - Zevran ( Antivan Crows baby ) - Leliana, Cassandra and Vivienne. ( If the divine appears in a single scene we'll probably get them. I can see Cass and Leliana appearing with the Inquisitor as well, but I don't think any of them will have a LARGE role in the story. ) - Alistair ( If he's a Grey Warden and is still kicking he might show up at Weisshaupt, if he's King he could also make a small cameo appearance during a single scene. Anora as well. He's my all time favorite so I of course want him to show up in at least ONE scene. ) - Blackwall, Loghain, Carver, Bethany ( Grey Wardens, they can show up at Weisshaupt. The Hawke twins are obviously determinant, but it'd be really nice to see them at least once. ) - Cole ( His connection to Solas gives me hope but who knows. ) - Sten ( We'll definitely see the Qunari and deal with them during some story beats. He's the current Arishok, it just makes sense. ) - Fenris ( His large role in the comics and him currently being in the areas from the game gives me hope. Gideon said he isn't in the game, but Claudia also said the same thing so who knows? ) - Shale ( Was in this area last we checked! Could show up! I hope so because Shale is deadass the funniest companion across the three games idc )

30% drinking copium kool aid. - Josephine ( Her appearing in one scene would be so nice, but she's not as popular as other characters so I don't have high hopes. ) - Iron Bull ( The Chargers could appear! But Freddie Prince Jr has said BioWare has no interest in him as a voice actor?? But who knows what their drama is really about. ) - Sera ( Could happen. No reason why she couldn't. ) - Merrill ( Her desire to bring back elven culture would be interesting to see in this story, but I personally don't think BioWare would consider her. I love her though and I would have her in this game in an instant if it was up to me. )

10% not ruling them out, but it's very unlikely. - The Warden ( I have given up hope babes. ) - Anders ( BioWare seems to REALLY dislike him so I don't see it happening. ) - Oghren ( I don't want him and if they choose to bring him back over others I might take drastic measures. ) - Hawke ( Maybe a voice cameo?? We know the person left in the fade isn't being addressed in this game, but if they weren't left behind maybe we'll get something lol )

0% chance these characters show up. - Aveline ( We're probably not going to Kirkwall and she has no reason to not be there. ) - Sebastian ( See Aveline, but swap Kirkwall with Starkhaven ) - Wynne ( She's dead. ) - Cullen ( LMAO he will never physically appear in this series again and I am fine with that. I love Cullen, but his VA needs to fuck off this planet ASAP. He'll probably get a mention by the Inquisitor if he was romanced and that will be it. )

[ciellafanfic]

We're All Wet

By Ciella

Relationship: Zevran Arainai/Dorian Pavus

Summary: A gift for SheenaWilde for the Black Emporium gift exchange.

Zevran is not a very good bodyguard, and his latest attempt to save Dorian's life has gotten them into an unusual situtation.

"Explain to me again how soaking ourselves in a cistern is the best way to hide from assassins," Dorian hissed at Zevran quietly. Even his low voice seemed to echo loudly through the stone corridor.

Leliana had sent the Antivan to foil an assassination plot she'd uncovered. But since his arrival, Dorian had spent far more time narrowly avoiding death than he had being saved from it. Most recently, he'd spent the last hour or so running through the streets of Vyrantium at night after his palanquin had been attacked. His so-called protector had eventually pulled both of them into an open cistern where they now stood chest-deep in cold water, waiting for… something. Dorian wasn't sure how one was supposed to tell if assassins were still chasing you or not, but at this point, he was simply hoping they wouldn't have to spend all night in here.

"I certainly wouldn't think to look for you in here," Zevran responded casually, doing his best to keep his voice soft. "What kind of magister would hide in a cistern? It's not very magisterial, is it?"

Dorian gave him a sour look.

"You're not a very good bodyguard, are you?"

Water splashed as Zevran brought his hand to his chest as if wounded.

"Surely you cannot mean that, my friend. Have I not defended your wellbeing valiantly?"

Dorian took a deep breath through his teeth as the elf finally managed to hit his very last nerve.

"In the last month, I have been poisoned, shot at with arrows, had a woman attempt to garrotte me with a clothesline, and have had not one but two demons sent to me in bottles of wine. And now, after running for my life from yet another attack, you drag me down here, for who knows how long, where I am freezing and… and… wet !"

He tried controlling his voice as much as possible, but he'd definitely been too loud. If the assassins did find them down here, Dorian did not look forward to needing to fight them while wading through someone's drinking water.

"Yes, well, if you recall, I did manage to eliminate most of the perpetrators in those attacks. Also, you are very much still alive. Considering my skills lie more in killing than in saving, I would say I'm doing quite well."

Dorian groaned in frustration and wiped his hand across his face.

"Come now, my friend," Zevran, putting a hand on Dorian's shoulder. "Such a beautiful man should not look so depressed."

Dorian looked down at Zevran's hand and then back at the man.

"Must you do that?" Dorian asked, more defeated than anything.

"Do what?" Zevran responded, all innocence.

If being a poor bodyguard weren't bad enough, the man was an incorrigible flirt. It was charming at first. But then Dorian realized that he did it with quite literally everyone. Granted, Dorian had a tendency to do the same, but he at least had the decency not to look at all of his flirt-ees as if he were ready to jump on top of them right then and there. There had been more than a few times in the past month where Dorian had needed to picture distinctly non-sexual things, such as Corypheus or his great aunt Cordelia, in an attempt to cool himself down after one of Zevran's more enticing innuendos. In most situations, the chilly water they were currently submerged in should have been all he needed, but now Zevran was touching him…

"That," Dorian said, gesturing to all of Zevran. "The flirting and the touches and the… Implications."

Zevran's smile became suddenly predatory as he stepped closer to Dorian.

"And which implications would those be?" he asked.

Dorian took a small step back from him.

"You know very well what I'm talking about," he said, trying not to look directly at Zevran's rather stunning amber eyes but also trying not to look as if he were not looking. "The flirting."

"Ha," Zevran said, his smile turning genuine for a moment. He took another step toward Dorian. "You flirt better than I do most times, which is saying something, considering I'm Antivan. They teach us the art as children, you know."

"Yes," Dorian said, taking another step back. How did someone nearly a head shorter than him manage to feel so intimidating? "But at least I have the decency not to imply that it's something more than flirting."

"Ah, but what if it is something more than flirting? I would think that you would want to imply that, no? For decency's sake?"

Zevran put his hand on Dorian's chest, moving his shirt slightly so that a finger brushed over his bare skin. Dorian shivered. The water was quite cold.

Dorian went to take another step back, but his heel hit a wall behind him, and he realized he'd put himself between a rock and a hard place. He tried not to consider which one was the hard place…

"One would think," he said weakly, "that if it was something… more… that after a month of–"

Dorian cut off sharply as a voice echoed through the cistern.

"Check in here!"

Before Dorian could react, Zevran grabbed his shirt and pulled him under the water. Dorian's heart raced as he floated there beneath the surface, Zevran practically on top of him. He could feel panic begin to rise. Between the attempt on his life, Zevran being… Zevran… and now possibly being found out, he found himself at some limit he hadn't realized he'd had. He was going to need to jump out of the water. He didn't have enough air. His chest was tight, and he could barely see and–

Zevran's lips crushing into his should have been a shock. And it was. But rather than making him even more eager to shoot out of the water, they seemed to have the opposite effect. The kiss was passionate and warm, and he needed more of it. He felt Zevran's legs wrap around his waist, and Dorian pulled him closer. They floated there for… he wasn't sure how long. But all Dorian could feel was Zevran's lips pushing at his own. His tongue slipped through the barrier of his lips, and Dorian found himself trying to navigate, holding his breath as his mouth filled with chill water and Zevran's very needy tongue.

Eventually, there was no putting it off. Dorian had to push himself up, out of the water. A difficult task considering that Zevran was still attached to him. He sucked in air with a gasp while a barely out-of-breath Zevran smiled down at him. They both just stared at each other for a moment. Dorian was listening intently for whoever they'd heard a moment ago. Zevran didn't seem to care all that much if a group of assassins was currently making their way towards them. He truly was a horrible bodyguard.

"I don't hear anyone," Dorian said, his eyes still trained on Zevran's.

"That is quite the shame," he said with his predatory smile. "They are going to miss an outstanding show."

Zevran leaned back down to press his lips against Dorian's again.

[eggiesins]

See Me As I Am

Taking a stab at a Dragon Age drabble. The sad tired templar war criminal has consumed me. Feel free to check it out below the cut or on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59049958

As always, let me know what you think, and I hope y'all enjoy!

“Lace and taffeta?” Leliana asked, incredulous as she took a step toward Josephine. “Are we to send her to the court of Orlais wrapped up like festival candy? What if action is necessary?” She hit her palm with a fist to emphasize the statement.

Josephine nodded smoothly before replying. “The dress restricts movement, yes, but it is in line with current Orlesian fashion and gives us an advantage with the court as soon as she steps inside the Winter Palace. Not to mention, the silhouette of the red uniform would only heighten her short stature and,” Josephine paused, struggling to find the right words. The Inquisitor was already uncomfortable with the conversation, and she would prefer to not further aggravate the situation. “her...distinct curvature. If she is to pass as fully human to play the Game, a properly fitted dress with heels for height would be the best way to mask the more Dwarven features.”

Leoric had long since gone quiet while her two advisors bickered. To be honest, she wasn’t really even listening anymore. Either way, attending a masquerade ball at the Winter Palace to solve an assassination attempt wouldn’t be fun at all. There was no use letting herself get worked up about something as simple as what she would wear, but the loud arguing between Leiliana and Josephine combined with her grumbling stomach and that damned fly that kept buzzing around the council room had her growing ever more agitated. Whether anyone noticed the rapid bouncing of her leg, the way she had chewed her lip to the point of nearly bursting, they said nothing about it. The tension coiled inside her chest, a familiar anxiety and agitation, a build up of nervous energy threatening to overwhelm her any minute now.

“Okay!” Leoric finally shouted as she stood. Leliana and Josephine immediately turned to face her with wide eyes. Even Cullen, who up until this point had started nodding off in a corner, having finished detailing his security plan for the event, jerked back to attention at the sound of Leoric’s shout. She cast him an accusatory glance for his inaction.

Leoric sighed heavily before she continued in a monotone voice. “Look. However you want to dress me for this thing, I’m sure I’ll hate it either way so why not pick something that does both? Is there a way for me to dress ‘prettily’ enough while still having the mobility to defend myself if necessary? Bonus points if the dress comes with a hidden sleeve for a dagger or two.

“Actually, while we’re on the subject, let me clarify. I hate the Great Game, I hate the idea of being stuck in a room full of back-stabbing, stuffy nobles who are all wearing masks, and, oh yeah, might be assassins.” Leoric let the emphasis on the last word hang in the air before continuing. “Either way, it’s going to be miserable. Either way, how I feel about the situation won’t change a damn thing. I didn’t ask to become the Herald of Andraste, didn’t ask for the title of Inquisitor. I didn’t choose to become a symbol for the Inquisition. The person that I am, the real half-human being that I will be after this Breach is closed, none of it matters anymore.”

She watched as her advisors�� faces fell, feeling a little guilty, and more than a little mortified at how vulnerable she was making herself. She had struggled with her loss of identity since the moment she woke up in Haven, suddenly a hero and beacon of hope. It didn’t matter who she was, what she liked, or what she wanted anymore. Leoric no longer mattered, only the Inquisitor, Andraste’s Chosen. But not once had she shared those thoughts with anyone in her inner circle. Even Varric, skeptical snarky Varric, was starting to believe in her divine patronage more than her. It was nerve-wracking, revealing so much, allowing herself to be so afraid and so hollow in front of people she had only known for a few months.

The room was silent now, the fly’s buzzing long since ceased. Leoric only felt the rapid beating of her heart as she turned her gaze around the room, steadfastly refusing to make eye contact with anyone present. She knew if she looked, she would only find concern, pity, possibly even doubt. It was too much.

Leoric’s voice was low and empty when she finally broke the silence. “Who I was, who I am, and who I will be are all null and void as long as the Inquisition exists. History will not remember Leoric. It will remember the Inquisitor. Find a compromise for the dress. I don’t care.” Her tone finally admitted her defeat, her resignation to her role. Leoric turned on her heel and left.

As soon as she heard the heavy thud of the door closing behind her, Leoric picked up her pace. Moving as quickly as she could without seeming manic - wouldn’t want anyone else in Skyhold to start worrying about her -she made her way out to the courtyard. Ignoring the calls of “Inquisitor!” as she rushed, only focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, Leoric finally found herself at the stables.

------------------------------------

Back in the war room, the advisors sat in tense silence. This was the first time Leoric had so openly expressed any resentment toward her duties as Inquisitor.

“Damn it all,” Cullen cursed, shaking his head. How did it take him this long to realize something was wrong? Even Josephine was shocked by the outburst. Was Leoric truly concealing her feelings the entire time? Or had they all fallen into the same trap as the stray pilgrims who wandered into Skyhold, so blinded by the idea of the Inquisitor, that they completely failed to even recognize the person?

“Perhaps a dress with less structure, greater mobility. Yet long enough to wear pants underneath. Orlesian silk might work, though without a bodice and petticoat it wouldn’t exactly be en vogue for the court. But it could convey the necessary decorum without being too upsetting. We might even turn it to our advantage and start a trend.”

“Leliana!” Josephine’s reprimand echoed in the silent chamber. Leliana shot the ambassador a look.

“I understand the Inquisitor’s upset, and it is unfortunate. But, she is also correct. The Inquisition doesn’t need another person to lend it humanity. If the Inquisition is to succeed, if we are to survive this and defeat Corypheus, she must fulfill her duty as Andraste’s Chosen. I care for her the same as you,” Leliana’s tone turned icy and cold. “But I will not let Divine Justinia’s death be in vain. I will not let the sacrifices of everyone here go to waste, all to spare one woman’s feelings. The Inquisitor knows this and accepts it. She does not like it, but she doesn’t need to. As long as Corypheus is defeated and the world stabilized, that is all that matters. For now, our role is to find her suitable attire to play the Game. We do not need to enjoy it, but we must do it because it must be done.”

Josephine’s expression returned to its normal composed neutrality as she heeded Leliana’s words. “We can’t forget the hidden daggers for her...”

Cullen sighed and left to find Leoric.

Leoric struggled to blink back tears of frustration as she saddled her mare. The buckles slipped from her shaky hands, and the stable boys were too terrified to step up and offer their help. Instead, they pretended not to see their Inquisitor’s tear streaked face and resumed their duties in silence.

“They don’t see me. I am not real. They see their symbol of hope and ignore the rest. They won’t remember me when all is said and done, only what I pretend to be. I’m not real. But if I’m not real, how do I still feel so much? Why does it still hurt?” a soft voice, almost a whisper, right over Leoric’s shoulder.

“Damnit Cole!” Leoric nearly jumped out of her skin as the man appeared next to her. She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath before turning to face him. “Cole, please. Leave my thoughts to me. I need some time to calm down, and I really can’t trust myself to be nice right now.”

Cole placed a gentle hand on her cheek and bent down to kiss her forehead. “I know what it is to not be real, and what it is to be in between. I remember you, Leoric. The writer, daydreamer, the free soul chained down. You are not lost, and, by someone else who remembers, you are found. Healing the hurt will come, and we will remember.”

Just as Leoric reached up to take Cole’s hand, he disappeared. Her hurt turned dull, and tears streamed freely down her cheeks. It was comforting, having someone she could call a friend. Cole lived outside the hierarchy of the Inquisition, outside the culture that had isolated her. Unlike the others, she knew that he, at least, could follow her and not the Inquisitor.

She turned back to finish saddling the mare. The knot of anxiety in her chest calmed somewhat, but all the pent-up energy still demanded release.

-------------------------------

It didn’t take Cullen long to figure out where Leoric had gone. Cursing under his breath, he moved quickly toward the stables, hoping to catch Leoric before she disappeared somewhere alone. When he finally spotted her, he saw the saddle fall from her horse’s back, watched as she kicked the stable door with everything she had. The sunlight drifted through an open slat in the roof, and even from a distance, he could see the wet shine of tears across her cheeks. His chest clenched at the sight and his feet began to carry him toward her. Until Cole appeared, that is.

Cullen quickly pulled himself to a stop as something sickly green twisted in his stomach. She jumped and Cullen’s eye twitched, his hand clenched. Her furrowed brows and tense jaw melted into something softer, closing her eyes as Cole pressed the kiss to her forehead. The green knotted itself more tightly within him, and Cullen was frustrated. He knew he cared for Leoric. By the Maker, she was all he ever thought about these days. He could be in the middle of paperwork, or training fresh recruits and would find himself wondering about her in the field. If she was eating well, getting enough sleep, if she might be cold during those chilly mountain nights. Sometimes his mind would wander further, though he’d never admit it. How prettily she smiled after winning an argument against Dorian, the way her brows furrowed as she worked on a poem, the afternoon light soaking her hair, her hazel eyes glowing like an emerald dipped in honey. He could kiss the tension away from her, just the same as Cole. Better, even. He would kiss her with all the passion he was capable of, hold her tightly to him as he lavished her with his lips and tongue, let her ride him until she couldn’t think well enough to worry at all. He would call her name like a Chant all its own, make sure she always knew that come what may, she was seen and she was loved.

But those were not thoughts a knight should have about his superior officer. There was still a war to be won, and she wasn’t looking, he was sure. There had been light-hearted flirtations here and there, the occasional blush dashing across her features as they spoke. But she already held the weight of the world on her shoulders. The last thing she needed was the additional burden of his heart, his issues on top. Maybe once things were over, there could be something more, but Cullen didn’t give that idea much attention. From what he understood, she intended to return to travelling with her family. She would finish her novel and live her life free of this Inquisition. Free of him.

Free of Cole, too. Cullen allowed himself to indulge in that small comfort at least.

Then, she was alone, turning back to try and saddle her horse again. Cullen approached cautiously, his mind already churning through how he could say what he should say, and none of it seemed good enough.

“Would you like a hand with that, Leoric?” Leoric’s brain froze hearing the commander call her by name. The tenderness in his voice, the worry and concern, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. She took a deep breath, refusing to turn around and let him see her like this. It was unbecoming of the Inquisitor. Her voice went hoarse as she spoke, doing her best to sound calm and collected.

“This...organization lives or dies by the Inquisitor who guides it. Should I ask for help pulling my boots on in the morning too, Commander?” Leoric winced at her tone, harsher than she meant it to be. She knew Cullen meant well, but that didn’t change the fact that, for the time being, she was his boss. He was just another among the many who expected, needed her to be a strong leader, the demigod they had all prayed for. She had acted out of line in the war room. Her emotions got the better of her and she had failed in her role. It had felt so good! But no matter how it felt to finally explode, it had done no real good for the people who needed her to be more.

Leoric gently pressed her knee into the mare’s side as she pulled the saddle belt tight. Large, gloved hands reached around her, holding the buckle steady and giving an extra yank on the belt. Wordlessly, Cullen finished cinching the saddle in place and gave it an experimental tug. Leoric sighed, trying to ignore just how warm he felt wrapped around her, the security of his solidly armored chest against her back. On a good day, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Today, she was tiny, wrapped in the smell of fur and leather, sharpening oil and sweat, the closest she had ever been to him. It was both comforting and infuriating. His attention only felt like pity now.

As soon as the saddle was secure, Leoric swiftly mounted the horse. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she spoke.

“I’m going for a ride, Commander. I will be back. Whatever report you have can wait until then. I’d rather review it with a clear head anyway.” Cullen took hold of the horse’s bridle before she could make good on her escape. It hurt, seeing the woman who had once been so animated and full of mirth turned cold and hollow. Had he truly been so blinded by faith to not notice Leoric’s quiet death? Her slow transformation into this empty shell, the face of the Inquisition?

“I, um, well,” Cullen sighed and let go of her horse. Pretty words were not his gift. He steeled himself and spoke with sincerity. “I’d like to join you, if you’ll have me. Been quite some time since I enjoyed a ride myself.”

Leoric made the mistake of looking down at him, his hopeful expression sending a pang of guilt through her chest. She swallowed and dipped her chin in a low nod. “Try and keep up,” she murmured before urging the horse to take off. As she rode toward the main gate her heart raced and her cheeks grew warm. Leoric chastised herself.

---------------------------------

Leoric slowly picked her way down the steep path into the forest, guiding her mount carefully around the sharp rocks and steep drop-offs down the mountainside. Once they made it into the forest and the road flattened back out, Leoric urged the horse into a brisk gallop. The wind raced through her short hair and her thighs were beginning to burn from how tightly she clung to the saddle. It was amazing. She let her mare choose their direction as she basked in how numb the world began to feel. She could hear only the wind rushing past her, could only feel the cold mountain air chilling her lungs and the warm mount beneath her. The trees zipping by them began to blur and fade into the background.

Cullen, for his part, struggled to catch up to her. He was able to prepare a mount of his own quickly enough, but he was far heavier than Leoric and could never hope to outpace her on horseback. He caught up enough to catch sight of her riding ahead of him, almost losing his grip on the reins in the process. Even from this angle, she looked happy, free. She was beautiful. Cullen could spend the rest of the day happily riding behind her just like this.

Leoric’s smile quickly turned to panic as her mare pulled up short at a sudden log in the path, sending her flying over the horse’s head and tumbling across the ground. Her bare arms scraped across the pebbles, she sucked in a tight breath as a branch tore across the back of her thigh, drawing blood. Her shoulders bruised with the impact, and she muttered a quick word of thanks to the Maker that she remembered to secure her head and neck with her hands. As her rolling slowed to a halt, Leoric let out a low groan of pain. She’d been injured far worse during her time with the Inquisition, but now her pride was bruised as well.

“Herald of Andraste,” she wheezed to herself as she struggled to draw breath. “Dead by tumbling from her horse like an idiot.” She coughed and groaned again, curling into herself for a moment, trying to focus on feeling what parts of her had been hurt.

”-ic! Leoric!” Cullen’s worried voice called out.

“Fuck!” Leoric hissed, utterly humiliated. She didn’t think he would actually follow her. Why would anyone go so far out of sheer pity? At some point, the cost outweighed the benefit, right? The approaching hoofbeats grew louder and Leoric struggled to slowly sit up. She could still hear the hoofbeats even as Cullen’s boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, as his armor clinked and clanged against itself in his hurry toward her. He easily swung himself over the log and dropped to his knees by her side.

At once, he was checking her over, his hands running along her arms and torso before cupping her face gently and checking her eyes for any sign of concussion.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a panic. Before Leoric could respond, he pulled her in close and cradled her head into the fur mantle on his chest. “Maker’s Mercy, I saw you get thrown,” his voice began to shake. “You weren’t moving Leoric. If we los-” Cullen cleared his throat and pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “If I lost you, Leoric I don’t- I-“ “Cullen,” Leoric grumbled through a mouth full of fur. As much as she wanted to know how that thought ended, the gash on her thigh was giving her no reprieve. She gently pushed away from his chest and twisted in his lap so he could see the injury. “Fuckin’ tree got me. Sliced open by dead fucking wood.”

Cullen’s heart dropped. Blood poured steadily from the wound, it’s only blockage an array of dirt and pebbles stuck to the surrounding area. Tearing the sash from his waist, he gently lifted her leg to begin wrapping it tightly around her thigh. With every sweep of his hand between her legs, Leoric tensed and her cheeks warmed. Cullen pushed back the excited thoughts that leapt forward with each brush of his fingers across her thigh. Maker have mercy, what is wrong with me? Here he was, patching up the woman he had grown to love, the woman he feared he might have lost for good, and somehow he could not let go of the softness of her thighs despite the strength he knew was there. The pair breathed a sigh of relief as the sash was finally tied off and Cullen stood to retrieve the meager supplies he kept in his saddle.

Leoric couldn’t believe herself. First, she blows up in the war council. Then she fell off her horse in front of the infuriatingly handsome commander and had to be patched up. And now! Now, she wondered what it might be like if said commander’s hand had lingered on her thighs a bit longer or touched her in a whole host of other places. She had a bit of an idea from his pat down, when his fingertips danced along her torso and she couldn’t help but flinch at his touch. He was gentle as he tested for broken bones and bruises, and that gentle touch sent shivers down her spine. She wanted more, and it was terrifying. Cullen had already rejected her back at Haven. He saw a dwarf when he looked at her, and she knew the human blood she did carry would never be enough. She had moved on, mostly, enough to consider him as much of a friend as her subordinate could be. He trusted her as a friend and leader, and she wouldn’t betray that trust.

Cullen returned to her side, medicine kit in hand. He knelt down and passed it to her gingerly, all too aware of the shameful heat rising in his cheeks. Leoric refused to make eye contact, muttering a quick “thank you” as she opened the kit. The tools inside were rudimentary, a needle and spool of gossamer thread, a small flask of fire whiskey, bandages, and shears. She lay down on her side, propped up on an elbow, trying to find a comfortable position to stitch herself up.

“Here,” Cullen murmured, removing his cloak and mantle to prop her up on. “I, um, well, I -can help. With the stitches, I mean. Patched up more than a few soldiers in the field before, and with a mortality rate of only 80 percent.” He laughed weakly at the joke, kicking himself internally. Leoric raised an eyebrow at him and began to laugh, softly at first and then louder until there was almost an edge to it. She calmed herself down and wiped a grimy tear from her eye. She took a long swig from the flask before she sighed in resignation.

“Help yourself, Commander,” her tone was teasing. After the day she had, Leoric didn’t have it in her to give a fuck anymore. This may as well happen now. “Try not to kill me in the process.”

Cullen chucked nervously and tried to force his background thoughts into submission as he began working. The sash had done its job, thank the Maker, and the bleeding had slowed considerably. He wouldn’t have to cauterize the wound after all. He gently picked off any of the larger stones still crusted at the edges, rinsing the rest off with his water skin. Leoric’s brain began to stutter when he slowly removed his belt, chastising herself again when he told her to bite down on it. She did so just in time for Cullen to rinse the gash with whiskey and quickly set to work on the stitches. He worked with care, deft and quick hands guiding the flesh back into place with each tug of the thread, but Leoric still wished he would hurry up and be done. The pain had long since replaced any distractions of pleasure, and she was ready to go home and be done with this awful, humiliating day.

Once she was all patched up, Cullen helped her to stand, catching her when she almost collapsed from dizziness.

“You’ve lost a good bit of blood,” he comforted. “It’ll be safest if you ride back with me. The mare wasn’t injured; she can follow.” Leoric nodded, long past caring about appearances at this point. She let Cullen lift her into the saddle, feeling his familiar warmth against her as he climbed up behind her. His sturdy arms held her up, and she couldn’t help but sink back into him, utterly exhausted.

“Thank you, Cullen,” Leoric broke the comfortable silence as they rode back to the stronghold. “For everything today. I’ve been a complete ass, and you helped me anyway. I’m sorry too. Skyhold shouldn’t see me weak like this. How inspiring is an Inquisitor who falls from her horse and has to be carried back home?”

Cullen took the reins in one hand and held her tighter to him with the other. “You were right, though. We’ve all treated you like just a symbol of Andraste, and idea of a hero. I mean, that’s not to say...” He sighed. “You, Leoric, are very much a hero in your own right. Whether you’re blessed by Andraste or not, it is still you closing the rifts, securing alliances, and fighting against Corypheus. History may not remember Leoric, but I certainly will. I’m sorry, for not realizing sooner how we were making you feel.” His voice softened. “How I was making you feel. Leoric, you are amazing, witty and funny, smart and compassionate. You deserve to be happy, content, wherever that path may take you.”

Leoric did not reply, already lulled to sleep by the gentle rhythm of the horse and Cullen’s warm embrace.

“I may serve the Inquisitor, but it’s Leoric I care for, and that won’t change,” he murmured.

[blarrghe]

so far veilguard has not really hooked me, which is very new for me with a dragon age game. I'd say it's because I'm growing up and developing less obsessive habits, but I played the sims for like 6 hours straight the other day. I'm not very far in so this crit will be very minor and I'm still giving it the whole game (probably twice) before I actually put down Opinions, but I think I'm getting the vague sense of that "shallowness" that I am trying to avoid actually seeing people complain about already...

The biggest thing for me right now is something I'm going to throw to "pacing" or maybe "narrative buy-in" because, while it starts pretty much exactly like Inquisition, it somehow does even less to grip me and make me believe the threat. Inquisition already had the weakest plot so far imo, but the big bang at the beginning put a very visible mark on the sky from everywhere you went, and there was a lot of urgency in the makeshift refugee camp that was Haven. There's no urgency at the lighthouse. There's not even really urgency at the Arlathan forest camp. There's definitely no urgency in the cities, even though Treviso is under occupation and Tevinter just suffered a demon attack. Again, maybe that will change, but even though the maps are smaller I feel like the few beginning areas are still giving me that hinterlands effect where I can just get stuck wandering about doing minor sidequests and chatting with my companions and the TWO ALL POWERFUL ELVHEN GODS are just like. somewhere. chillin. I guess. Every time someone in my party casually says "the gods must have promised them something" or "the gods must be involved in this" I'm like. Oh right. That's what this game's villain is. Ok. At least in Haven we met Corypheus and he said a sick ass line?

So the big bang at the start is kind of anticlimactic. Solas is fine, just stuck in my head. Varric is fucking fine?? Like it's nice that he's not dead, I guess, I had real suspicions he'd die in that opening scene from the trailer and while I would have been sad it would have been a very good gut punch to get me motivated. By the time I was playing I did not really believe he'd be killed there, but he's just... idk. Sitting on a bed making little comments when I walk by (which I never really do because he's like, over in a room you don't need to go into unless you want to change your appearance). It's. Fine. Again, I'm sure story stuff will pick up and he'll have something important to say at some point. But right now it's. well it's boring. sorry.

I am enjoying the companions, but other than Harding whom I liked already they do not have their claws in me yet. I am the biggest defender of "quirky" female characters but Bellara's couple of personal dialogue scenes so far have fallen so flat for me. She's cute, don't get me wrong, but something in her scene being starstruck by Neve felt very unnatural, as did her emotional outburst and then reveal about her brother. It's a fine character backstory, it's not her voice actor or writer's fault (ok, I think actually maybe it is a little her voice actor, for me. sorry again.) but I just. Meh. And I mean, I might come to really love her. I came to love several other DA characters I did not like the first time around (including some polarizing fan favourites like Anders, Zevran, and Leliana, and some more universally disliked characters like Wynne and Vivienne)

I'm really... not loving the Crow content so far. Why are they good? Why is it portrayed like a cool, good underdog thing that they "rule Antiva"? I don't mind playing with Crow pride as I'm playing a Crow, but last I checked they're literally the mafia. And I enjoy the telenovella style family drama, I do, but it does seem a little... well. it's very telenovella, which is a fucking stereotype, yknow? idk. It feels, and here's that word, shallow. Also Lucanis' cousin is so obviously in cahoots I might just stab him before we figure it out.

And a lot of this actually goes back to Rook. I have seen the complaint that you are shoehorned into plucky hero, and I had this complaint about Inquisition with Responsible Hero and made it work by building a very Responsible character and I am invested in him, so that can work. Hawke also was distinctively Hawke and that's a fan favourite (although you can play a red hawke and it is notably different from purple and blue, but you can't exactly be whoever you want). Anyway, I made a pretty sassy Crow Rook, because I tend to like a sassy rogue (they're a mage, but, you know, spellblade) the first time through a game anyway, but the lack of control over tone is real and I think it's half of why Bellara is not hitting. Like why would she tell me any of this stuff I'm literally just some cool kid with tattoos and a criminal past she met the other day. I honestly miss the heavy mantle that Wardens and Inquisitors have with their companions. Rook's just some guy in the least just some guy way and it's weird.

Anyway. I don't know. There are things I really like. The combat is obviously very fun, and I like the definite missions and kind of streamlined quest approach. I like Varric's foreshadowy narrations that let me know things might actually pick up in the later acts. I like the more definite "act" structure, which was of course the most well-reviewed part of DA2. I see the potential for a cool story, especially with these trips into Solas' past, and I'm sure there will be new lore revelations for dwarves, too. But overall it's just. I don't know. I can put it down. I can put it down for days and days, and I'm 12 hours in to a game that probably has like a 30-40 hour playtime depending on how much you sidequest. I should be more hooked. I am also only 12 hours in. It will probably get better. But also. 12 hours! I've been home alone with it for almost a month!

[plisuu]

hap friiiii how about 'i already lost you once. i’m not going to lose you again' for connor x cullen?

Cullen is very mad about the fact that things are Happening, aka "Call to Action Pt .2: the Electric Boogaloo", aka "Cullen is Going to McFrikin Lose it"

wc: 615 @dadrunkwriting

They woke to pounding on the door.

It wasn't terribly unusual—ex-templars often turned up at strange hours, haunted by withdrawals, seeking refuge. Sometimes, the elderly couple down the road needed help getting their livestock rounded up. Once, a total stranger had rolled up to their door, barged in, raided the kitchen, and then left.

Cullen hoped it wasn't the latter as he rose from bed, wiping sleep from his eyes and blearily grasping around for a shirt, the faintest streaks of sunlight streaking through the curtains. Connor rolled over beside him, throwing his arm around Cullen's waist with a disgruntled sound, only to release him with a sleepy sigh when Cullen kissed his temple.

"Be back soon," he murmured into Connor's hair, brushing some aside to drop another kiss on his forehead before shuffling out of their room and down the hall. He grabbed a pitcher of water on the way—if it was a Templar, they would need it. If it wasn't, well, they were a little bit of a trek from the nearest neighbor, and the mid-summer heat was beginning to creep into the early mornings.

When he opened the door, he would have gladly taken a stranger storming into their house thrice over than the sight of the young woman in his doorway, standing at attention. She greeted him with a brief salute.

"For you, Ser. And the Inquisitor." She held up an envelope, sealed with wax and signed in a hand Cullen hadn't seen in years, and he simply stared at her, jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be some kind of sick joke.

"Who sent you?" he eventually managed, his voice weak, suddenly more exhausted than he had felt in a long time.

"Lady Nightingale, Ser. There's been… developments. Here." She offered him the letter again, and he took a step back, the pitcher he held slipping from his sweaty hand. They both cringed at the crash as glass shattered across the wooden floor. Cullen backed further into house, hands raised as if to ward her off.

"I—you must be mistaken."

The woman gave him a once over, her expression neutral and calculated--the look that all of Leliana's people had. "I am not. Unless this is not the residence of Commander Cullen Rutherford and Lord Inquisitor Trevelyan?"

"That's not—those aren't—"

"Cullen, are you alright?" Connor rounded the corner, grappling with a shirt half-pulled on, looking frazzled, voice still thick with sleep that had been jolted to alertness. “What's going on? What was that noise—”

Time seemed to stop, his words all but forgotten as he glanced between Cullen and the scout, the broken pitcher and puddle of water of the floor, and the letter held aloft between them.

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, to tell him to go back to bed, not to worry about it, that he would handle it, but it was already too late. Whatever concern Connor had walked into the hall with was snuffed out like a candle, his expression turning from confusion to something colder, something tired and distant--a look that immediately recalled the dusty halls of Skyhold and long, stressful nights fraught with anxiety and uncertainty. Cullen's heart sank as he watched all of the simple happiness of the life they had carefully built drain out of Connor's posture, replaced with the stiffness and weariness of the Inquisitor in the blink of an eye.

"Maker, we don't have all day," the woman huffed, stepping inside, around Cullen, and pressing the envelope into Connor's hand. "From Lady Nightingale. It's urgent, Inquisitor."

And then she was gone, leaving Cullen frowning at the empty doorway and Connor starting blankly at the parchment he now held.

[greypetrel]

Hiii 👁️👄👁️💜 Maybe: 🎄 spirits follow everywhere i go - or alternatively:🎄 oh, you fool, there are rules

Hello! Bet you forgot you sent me this, uh? 💜

WELL, it's here! After much consideration because I love the album that contains both these songs, I thought that the Yawning Grave just yelled Morrigan. A minor possible spoiler for the Arbor Wilds/What Pride Has Wrought but well. I'm not explaining whys and hows anyway.

Tis the prompt list

Oh you fool, there are rules.

[ Morrigan x Female Mahariel | 3.692 words | No trigger warnings - Hurt/comfort ]

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent you omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you (You can run, but you can't escape) Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins (You will open the yawning grave)

Morrigan didn’t stall long in Skyhold, after Corypheus was defeated.

She had done what she must. That was it. She never meant to stay much longer.

She was grateful for Aisling, for her concerned expression as she told her that she would have tried to help her if she only had let her. Tried to fix whatever was done to her at the Well. Morrigan knew guilt when she saw it. It resonated deeply in her heart, and she was at the same time grateful and repulsed. It only made her want to run.

Run from that castle, run from another series of mistakes, run from companionship and friendship she still doubted she deserved.

Old books and ruins were much safer companions. They never talked back.

She wanted to believe the Inquisitor, be sure that everything could be fixed, that if they put their mind to it, they could have found a solution. Freed her from the cage of a past that wasn’t her own alone anymore, once again. She really did.

She wasn’t fool enough to actually do it.

Aisling knew not the extent of the magic that had been bestowed upon her. The extent of the control it could exert, how much she felt it deep in her bones, like the loose strings of a puppet. She knew, painstakingly well, for all the voices of the Well whispered it into her ears, that as talented as Lavellan was, as undoubtedly bright and creative with magic, she wasn’t powerful enough to break that spell.

None of her people was. No one else was, anymore. Save for… but he had vanished after the battle.

She thanked Aisling, told her words of comfort she didn’t feel, and of trust that in spite of herself she couldn’t convince herself not to mean. She at least owed her a nice goodbye. Kieran hugged her tight, and the elf stalled, caressing his hair and recommending him to listen to his mother. She whispered something in his ear, which made the boy giggle. Morrigan smiled: it happened much more rarely these days.

And before the first light of days could tinge the sky in pinks and lilacs, she took her son’s hand and left the fortress.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Leliana had waited for her, just outside the first outpost, before the descent to the valley.

She knew she didn’t have to go. She knew it well that right now, Skyhold was probably one of the safest places in Thedas. A place run by a person who knew her, knew partially the extent of what she did, could help her should something awry happen, should the Well decide to take full control of her. A person that loved Kieran and, she knew, would have gone out of her way to keep him safe and bring his mother back.

But she missed her.

She missed her and that choice of old, the separation, seemed now the biggest in a long list of mistakes she made. She had gained the knowledge she craved, and for what?

“I miss her.” She just told Leliana, too tired, to battered up to bite back something.

Leliana nodded, smiled in a knowing way that brought back memories, made her look like the young person she once was, and stirred some irritation.

“It was plenty of time you did.”

“Don’t tell the idiot.”

“Oh, I’m saving this bit of information for a special occasion, worry not.”

“If you hear from her…”

“You’ll hear first.” Leliana smiled. “You always hear first from her. You know it, yes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sneered, the pang to her heart finally enough in bringing some old bite back. “I wouldn’t dare implying I know more than the next Divine.”

“It’s been nice to meet you again, Morrigan.” She looked down, and smiled at Kieran. “To meet you both. Come say hi if you are in Val Royeaux.”

She travelled south for a couple of days, just to mislead any possible person who followed her.

And then, she headed straight to Amaranthine.

---

Nathaniel welcomed her warmly and ruffled Kieran’s hair, complimenting on how much he had grown.

Morrigan saw him frowning as the boy answered with a smile that was there for politeness, but didn’t offer any explanation to the fact. She couldn’t, not now. Not with him first.

“Is she here?”

“No.” He sighed. “Still Maker knows where. The last letter came from the Anderfels, but it was five months ago.” A pause, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Of course.

It was no surprise, after all: when she came to bid her goodbye in Orlais, Alyra had said she would have been gone for a while, and that communications would have been difficult. She had built a net of spies, but it wasn’t so widespread as to reach desolate places. In the Anderfels, Morrigan knew she had a handful of people in Weisshaupt, but nothing more. And, she couldn’t risk getting found or tracked.

Hoping she would have been there, waiting to magically fix her mess, had been childish and stupid. She wasn’t living in a fairy tale, she was no Vassilissa, as much as she had liked to pretend she was, as a child. As much as Alyra had made her feel like that. Such mishaps had already happened: the first time she reached her in Vigil’s Keep, Alyra had been in Denerim, impossibilitated to move before a week. They had managed three days together. Nothing more, and it wasn’t the only time they had missed each other. It was foolish to hope things could go differently.

“Very well. Can we stay the night, before leaving again?”

Kieran looked at her, snapping his head quickly with a face of disappointment. Morrigan knew perfectly well what he was about to say, and shook her head at him.

The room was found, and there were not many things left to do save opening the window, get a fire going, and bring their bags there, their cloaks to be washed. The same room she had occupied every time she had visited, finding it in the same level of readiness to be occupied.

She observed a dapple of sun shining over the white of the fresh linens. The air smelled like clean, as clean a that place -the whole castle actually- was. Kieran shook Nathaniel’s hand, very politely, and Morrigan wished him a nice afternoon and thanked him for his hospitality. He scoffed the formalities, but hesitated on the door before leaving. He turned towards her.

“She left orders, you know.” He told her, with a smile. “You both can stay for as long as you wish. Not a word of your presence will leave the walls, she described in no lack of details what will happen to snitches to all the recruits and the staff.”

“It sounds like mamae.” Kieran convened.

“The recruits still have nightmares.”

Morrigan joined the other two laughing at that, in spite of the glomp in her throat that rose knowing that Alyra had, in fact, thought of her. Of them both. She clutched one hand in the other and told Nathaniel that she would have thought about it, when Kieran asked her if they could stay.

“Just until mamae is back. Please, mother.”

The room was warm and comfortable, and no servant batted an eye when she asked for dinner to be brought in her room, leaving Kieran to go dine with the others in the great hall. She just walked him there, watched him taking place on a bench close to Nathaniel and in front of Velanna, answering politely to the question the others asked him. Smiling.

Some normality, at long last, or whatever normality she could ever hope to offer him.

The image only made the glomp in her throat grow.

And the glomp grew further when, back in her room, the servant returned with her favourite dish.

“Lady Warden-Commander left a list of what you and your son like to eat, my lady. Just in case.” The old woman smiled, sympathetically. “If you have other preferences, please let me know.”

Morrigan closed the door behind the maid, thanking her, and with all the dignity she had left, walked to the bed and sat down, elegant as a queen.

And then she let go, falling heavily back on the bed. It was fresh and plush: a room well taken care of, as if she was expected. Alyra left orders. Alyra said to the cook what to prepare her.

She wished she never went through that eluvian, all those years ago.

What god to pray for Mahariel to come back to her safe and sound and please, come back soon, she didn’t know anymore, but she was tired. Bone-deep tired.

Maybe she could rest. For some days, at least.

Kieran would benefit from a familiar place to cope with the lack of part of his soul. Faces he knew and who loved him to help him through the change.

Yes, she decided. They both would use some rest.

For some days, at least.

If that was yet another mistake, at least Kieran would have been happy about this one.

She ignored the voices telling her to go.

---

The days became weeks. And months.

Morrigan thought they were past hospitality, but looking better she realized both her and Kieran were a part of the Keep. Expected and wanted. Kieran had his spot in the Library, and everyone in the Keep, Wardens and not, automatically started to teach him whatever knowledge they possessed as if the child was a part of their environment too.

It wasn’t Skyhold, with the Inquisitor and Lord Pavus struggling to cut a free hour for lessons in busy schedules. No, here he was welcomed and expected during activities, at very regular timings Morrigan knew were something Alyra had started in the Keep. Everything happened at a precise time, as she would have wanted.

Her absence was a presence in itself, and it was soothing. It relaxed her, and the boy as well.

Kieran still cried because at night he felt the air too silent, and often crawled in her bed, to be soothed with a hug. He was growing old for that, Morrigan knew, and yet she had not in her to shun him away, nor to scold him because it was unbecoming for a young man his age to seek his mother when he had a nightmare.

No, she hugged him tight and caressed his hair until he felt asleep against her shoulder, like she did when he was but a baby. Everything felt more bearable, more worth it, when she held him like so, alive and breathing and free.

She missed him tenderly when he was a baby, those days. She soothed him and soothed herself as well.

She missed tenderly the exact look Alyra made when she first saw him: she had melted down, the usual air of harshness crumbling in something tender and marvelled. She never looked smitten, not with her and not with Alistair. She had looked so with Kieran. She had smiled, and poked the baby’s nose with such delicate tenderness that Morrigan had burst in tears.

“If you haven’t heard from her… But I’ve written her, too. Told her you’re here.” Nathaniel said, one day when she asked again whether he had news or not. “You know her safe spots, she’s gonna return as soon as she’ll read the letters.”

“Is she?”

He sighed, deeply, stopping to look at the Wardens training in the courtyard, at Velanna crouching in front of Kieran to correct his grip on the staff. Everything went on like normal, like one would expect. A clockwork fortress that stood its ground, brought to discipline by a missing Commander and kept so by her lieutenant. Nathaniel looked that much older, and it wasn’t just the Blight paling his skin, starting to paint his black hair in grey at the temples. Command didn’t really suit him: he could do it, he had been grown for it. It was clear as day, knowing him, that he didn’t like it.

“I hope she is.” He answered, tone lowering. “What are we going to do if she isn’t?”

Morrigan considered. She didn’t want to, but it’s been seven months since the last time anyone had any news from Mahariel. The whispers in her ears told her nothing useful: tales and whispers of Deep Roads, and creatures slain, something stirring, deep down. The possibility that it was too much, even for Alyra, was concrete. More than concrete.

But she knew perfectly well what she would have answered.

“We stop being stupid about it and go on.”

He laughed, bitterly, and couldn’t but agree with her.

They went on, but Morrigan still didn’t feel like leaving, even if everything told her she should not stay any longer, she was being stupid about it, waiting for a person that would have never come back.

She once thought that her plans wouldn’t have allowed her to stay more than a handful of months in one place, but as per now, she wasn’t sure what were her plans anymore.

So, she just listened to the voices from the Well, concentrated on them and tried to interpret them.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but all she could devise was one word.

Stay.

It seemed a fitting excuse to be stupid about it and listen.

---

Something was  on the bed, crawled into her arms.

She sighed and shifted, still more than a half asleep, she shifted her arms on the figure, rested her chin more comfortably on the head, thinking it was Kieran.

“Another nightmare?”

“He had one, but he’s asleep, right now.”

It was enough to make Morrigan jolt awake, every trace of sleep instantly gone. She snapped her fingers and a ball of fire started in the air, balanced on the palm of her hand to illuminate the rest of her bed.

Red hair, glinting orange and golden in the firelight, carefully braided in an intricate motive to stay out of her face. A practical style, a travelling one. Dark tattoos marking her brow, making her features less minute and delicate than they were. Beside her eyes, usually, but tonight those eyes were mellower than their usual.

“You’re-” There were at least ten thoughts in her head, but the whispers were loud and insisting, hissing about alarms and danger and wrongness, and she grew distracted. “Am I still dreaming?”

It was all that she managed to spit.

Alyra Mahariel, the Warden-Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, survivor of yet another mission everyone with some brain would have deemed impossible, frowned at her. She rose on one elbow, the shoulder of her nightsuit daintly slipping off a shoulder. Muscly, but less than Morrigan remembered. She looked thinner, more ghastly, the bags under her eyes were darker and her cheeks looked hollow, and the Witch knew it wasn’t just the light. If all, the light masked how more grey-ish her skin had gotten.

“it depends.” Alyra extended a hand, hesitating just a moment, just to see a nod from the other, before cupping Morrigan’s cheek. “Is it a good dream?”

A thumb caressed Morrigan’s cheekbone with tenderness, the pressure barely perceptible. The elf slid forward, very slowly and carefully as if she was afraid of startling a wild animal. Her face grew closer, her lips parted, but still she stopped at but a breath space from a kiss. She brushed her lips with her own, and waited for the other to consent. As she had done from the start, inviting but never pressing.

It made the glomp in Morrigan’s throat only bigger, as she realized that it was really Alyra, not an impostor. Her breath on her lips, the gentle pressure of her hand on her cheek were not a dream. The whispers were more pressing, insisting on the verge of deafening: they spoke of decay and death and wrongness, and danger. Morrigan had seen her slice so many throats, kill enough people in cold blood to say the Well was wrong.

But that wasn’t the whole of it.

The Well knew many things, but the Well didn’t know everything. Not the care in which she cupped her face, not the love in which she still waited for Morrigan to take the first step, without forcing her or making her feel trapped or pressured. That little choice she gave her, knowing how important it was for her.

She waited in Amaranthine for 7 months, and for 7 months she endured and kept strong, hid under the carpet all the negative.

Only then, 7 months after Corypheus had been slain, 9 since she drank from the Well and lost her freedom yet again, in front of that little tenderness, Morrigan allowed herself to cry.

She folded forward, and the fact that she was met with a solid shoulder and arms that held her, made her cry more. She circled the other woman’s bust and held her with all she had in her. She didn’t remember the last time she cried like that, so loud and intensely. She held Alyra like she would have disappeared again if she let go, and squeezed her past the point of comfort. She had missed her, missed her so much that the voices in her head felt more distant, more quiet.

“What happened?”

She asked her, tenderly combing her hair with her fingers -stiffer than her usual, Morrigan didn’t want to know whether she was just tired or her mission had failed and the Blight was starting to get hold of her. She couldn’t face it, now. As the elf patiently waited for an answer. Morrigan felt the deep, satisfied sigh, her frame melting against hers, as if she too hadn’t relaxed in ages and was waiting for it.

“I-” She started, but the words died in her throat. She didn’t want to know, but she had to. She needed at least one thing to go right, in the grand scheme of things. “… Did you succeed?”

She didn’t need to specify in which exactly. And she hated the whiny tone the question came out from her mouth with. It was pitiful and pathetic, and she wasn’t a person who begged. She could care later, tho.

“Avernus has it. A last round of control.” Alyra answered, her arms holding her tighter. “… I have the Cure.”

Morrigan started crying again, fat tears surging instantly to her eyes, as some weight she didn’t realise she was carrying lifted from her shoulder. Alyra disentangled from the hug, still as quick and agile as ten years ago in her prime, and moved to cup her cheeks and delicately pull her head so she was looking in her eyes. Her eyes were shiny too, and she looked tired. Bone-deep tired. But less stoney than she had seen her ever since she first met their son. She pushed forward and gently nuzzled her nose with her own, stopping as usual but a breath away from her lips. Morrigan, this time, didn’t hesitate: she filled the distance and kissed her, her taste all so familiar and soothing. Finally, after three years.

“What happened to you?” She broke the kiss, but didn’t stray far, delicately kissing tears away from her cheeks. “You’ve missed me before, but you haven’t ever cried like so. Not even when I told you I couldn’t follow you through your mirror.”

Morrigan sighed, pressing forward until her face drowned in the crook of the other’s neck. Alyra shifted, urging her to lie down after a while that they hadn’t moved. Her back ached, she said: she had ridden fast and hard all day, and they weren’t all that young anymore.

She settled them under the covers, tugging the hem on Morrigan’s shoulder with just one hand. The other arm held her close all throughout, as if she knew she needed to be this close, hear her steady heartbeat under her ear, when she moved.

Satisfied, she settled more comfortably around the witch, holding Morrigan as she kept combing her hair with her fingers, absent-mindedly. Tracing circles on her skin. Pressing a kiss where she could, every now and then. On her cheek, jaw, neck and shoulder. She even started to humm a song: a familiar tune she had sung to Kieran every time she was there to tuck him to sleep.

Three years since they last saw each other.

Morrigan could have written more, or could have travelled to meet her. She could have travelled with her, even. She could have stayed in Amaranthine, 10 years ago when they met for the first time after the Blight. Alyra couldn’t move, but Morrigan could have stayed. She wondered what could have been, if she had. Kieran growing up happy with people he could have called family.

She could have done so many things more for the woman in her arms, the woman she loved.

And yet, as cruel and ruthless and unforgiving as her fame said, Alyra Mahariel never put an ounce of blame on her. She was crying, so Alyra held her and soothed her until tears stopped.

She wondered if she would have done the same knowing what she did at the Well of Sorrow. Knowing that she took the Well away from two Dalish. The Well and the voices whispered she was theirs, that the illusion that she belonged with her was just that. She belonged to them, now. It was foolish to hope anything else. Such was the price she paid.

Bile rose in her throat, the thought of losing her love unbearable and anguishing.

But once again, she had to know.

Hunger for knowledge was what would have brought her demise, ultimately. And it was better now than later, she thought. Even if it was the most terrifying thing she had ever done.

Her hands fisted in the cotton of her shirt, a silent plea not to go, to stay where she was. Four words that weighted like the whole castle slowly creeped out of her lips.

“I made a mistake.”

[runningwolf62]

Closing one Door, Opening Another

"My Lord." Lady Montilyet's voice caught Brennan and made him slow to give her a curious look, before he loped into her makeshift office.

"Brennan is fine, please."

My Lord came from servants, came with sharp looks or outright stares, the curiosity of those beneath him at what he was able to do, the shame of House Trevelyan. My Lord was a title, the little shadow of his siblings, both tilted, by inheritance, by marriage, while he had nothing because he could not do the steps of the dance correctly.

Lady Montilyet watched him curiously, before she explained. "This is about your parents."

A chill like Solas had frozen him shot down Brennan's back, jerking him up, proper posture, shoulders back, head up, but not too high. He was only the third child after all.

He wet his lips and flashed a smile, seeing Lady Montilyet's alarm at his immediate response, "well, Lady Montilyet, my parents will be thrilled that one from your house wants to make an honest man of me."

Lady Montilyet was incredible at masking her confusion, before she realized, "very funny. You will not get out of this so easily."

"I could be very easy for you?" Brennan continued to try flirting and charming his way out of this mess, could he pretend to hear someone call him?

Lady Montilyet had to smoother a laugh, "Lord Trevelyan, I do say mind where you say such things, less Leliana feel the need to protect my honor."

"I can't say she'd be the first," Brennan mumbled to himself, shifting his weight slightly. Lady Montilyet gave him a look and he startled, grinning sheepishly.

"Because of me, not you, Ambassador." He gave a little bow, and Lady Montilyet softened again, he suspected of the three in the War Room she was the fondest of him. "I am not the most popular man in Ostwick, I fear."

"I see. I had meant to ask you about contacting The Banns of House Trevelyan-"

"Don't!"

The outburst echoed in the room, pressing on them like the cold air, like a tomb, or the rooms he'd seen Templars shove mages into during his training for 'isolation'. He felt frozen again, as much as he wanted to run, his boots were stuck to the stone floor, until the breach would tear the roof off and devour him.

Lady Montilyet sat up, and let out a slow breath, whatever the chill in the air that froze Brennan, like a horse about to bolt, it did not affect her. "Minaeve? Would you kindly leave us for a moment?"

The elven mage scurried from the room, the way Brennan wished he could, to take off until his blood and lungs burned and the chill was no threat.

The door closed behind him and he almost spooked at the sound.

Lady Montilyet watched him curiously, "Lord Trevelyan...."

"Brennan." It came out more strained this time, "please."

"Brennan." She tried again, as Brennan debated how far he'd get before Cassandra or Cullen tackled him, "do your parents know you are alive?"

Brennan let out a strangled laugh, shrinking back on himself, "if you mean, have I written them? No. But I have no doubt all of Ostwick knows who was the one to cause the breach."

Lady Montilyet set her pen down, watching him carefully, Brennan knew that look, he had given the same look to skittish horses himself. Been kicked a time or two for it, and resolved to try not to lash out at someone who was decent enough to pretend to be worried about him.

"You have always claimed innocence in this."

"What I claim matters little where my parents are concerned." Brennan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, which did so much less than he wished. The guilt crept in right along with the cold. "I'm sorry. I'm... sorry."

"It is alright. It is clear I touched on a sensitive subject."

"No, I'm sorry because... It was supposed to be my brother." Brennan admitted quietly, "That's why Casandra thought I was Maxwell, he was supposed to be here. He wouldn't... You'd have been far better off with him. He would write to our parents and they would give him everything he needed, all the support they could muster."

Either send Brennan to serve the Inquisition, or offer him on the market again, now far more eligible as the brother to the Herald of Andraste. For once they'd be lining up to marry him. And then too, he'd help the Inquisition, one way or another.

"But, you ask them..." He rubbed his arm, trying to get warmth back into his cold body, "I think, Ambassador, the kindest thing they will do for you, is to warn you to divorce yourself from associating with me. As our families are well acquainted, they will do you this kindness." He shrugged his shoulders, it was simply fact.

And frankly, not a bad idea. Lady Montilyet had a promising career, to tie herself to him was courting disaster. Anyone in the Free Marches could've said as much.

Lady Montilyet was staring at him, mouth slightly parted and Brennan rubbed the back of his neck, "you heard what Leliana found, what Cullen remembered. I'm the disgrace of the Trevelyans, Ambassador."

Lady Montilyet pulled herself together, "yes, well, I will not bring this up again."

"Thank you." Brennan looked down to trace patterns in the wood of the desk, "I wish I could be more help."

"You are doing everything you physically can to help, Lo- Brennan."

"Yes, but you'll find with me, I'll close more doors than open them." Brennan repeated something he'd heard Maxwell tell him, when guiding him away from chatting with a friendly party goer but a year ago, lest he close that door.

"Will they disown you?"

"No." Brennan didn't lift his gaze, "not yet." His fate hung in the air now, to determine if he was cast aside a third time, or finally claimed, finally a pride to his family. Either way, he would not be allowed to crawl back to beg forgiveness this time.

Lady Montilyet nodded slowly, "that, at least, we can use. Val Royeaux has taken note of your lineage."

"Of course they have." Brennan sighed out, lifting his head, "of course they have."

Lady Montilyet gave a sympathetic look, "it does not make my job any easier, but it may ease you to know that this does not matter to them as much as we had hoped."

Brennan furrowed his brows, parsing the sentence and considering what he knew of the political situation before he landed on the answer. "Oh! Because we're Free Marchers, I take it? Never united until the Darkspawn are on our door?"

Lady Montilyet shook her head, but not in disagreement, "no one doubts your ferocity when banded together. Free Marchers are known for their tenacity."

The way she'd known his family motto. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed. Brennan had only ever mastered one, when one was at their most generous. Compared to his siblings he might've been said to be more Wild in Temper, Stupid in Deed. Yet another thing he was meant to be by birth, but certainly did not live up to.

There was an awkward pause between them, and Brennan almost offered to go, before Lady Montilyet reached out to speak to him again. Brennan quietly raised his opinion of her, few tried this hard to reach out to him, she was a great ambassador to have the patience to try.

"I would like to apologize for the simple quarters, I should imagine, as we speak of Ostwick, they're nothing compared to what you're used to."

Brennan actually managed a laugh at that, "Haven is perfectly livable, I dare say cozy compared to being made to share training barracks."

"I thought you had not been in Templar training for several years?" Lady Montilyet asked curiously, Brennan turned his head to give her a playful look out of the corner of his eye.

"Ah, but how quickly would you forget having only a bunk in a room full of teenagers being taught to fight every day?"

"Oh. Oh Maker." Lady Montilyet laughed softly, even as she raised a hand to the bridge of her nose, "the horrors you must've endured."

"Truly, Ambassador Montilyet, I was prepared every day for the trials of what the fade might produce." Brennan made a face, recalling some of his days in Templar training and added, "Lesser Terrors are nothing compared to teenage boys trying to prove themselves. Smell better at least."

They both laughed at that, Brennan found the tension easing out of his body, “I might also have a chance of teaching them to bathe with soap, if Solas is to be believed, which is more than I could’ve hoped for then.”

He offered a smile, “but what about you, Lady Montilyet? I hope you never lived somewhere like that, to lower your standards.”

She smiled back at him, “I had the fortune not to, so the cold. And wildlife, and isolation, are… things to adjust to.” She sighed heavily and muttered to herself about why anyone lived out here, before her focus shifted back to Brennan, “and, I must say, if you are to be Brennan, Josephine will do fine.”

Brennan gave another small bow and smile, “if Leliana won’t kill me for it.”

---

Josephine, once he’s gone on some mission: Leliana I need you to kill his parents.

[fereldanwench]

started thinking about what worldstate i wanna create for my first run in veilguard because of course i have.

we can't import past saves and we won't be using the keep anymore, so I'm not sure how detailed we'll be able to get with it but I've got a few possibilities to play with:

the first and most likely is my mostly canon-compliant worldstate with these bbs:

lorelei cousland [rogue; double-wield] warden / queen of ferelden / li: king!alistair

daphne caron [rogue; double-wield] warden commander / ruler of vigil's keep / li: warden!bethany

ansley hawke [warrior; board & sword] champion of kirkwall / pirate / li: isabela

melisande trevelyan [rogue; archer] herald of andraste / inquisitor / li: cullen

rosalind hendry [mage; knight-enchanter] former chantry scholar / inquisition agent for leliana / li: blackwall

the second is my slightly less canon-compliant worldstate that i never brought into inquisition because i didn't want to have to choose between alistair and my favorite hawke in the fade lmao:

karina amell [mage; i do not remember her spec] warden-commander / li: warden!alistair

rhiannon hawke [force & elemental mage] champion of kirkwall / temp viscount of kirkwall / li: cullen or fenris*

*last summer i did replay da2 with an iteration of rhiannon that actually romanced fenris and i loved it and I've complicated shit for her, lmao. rhiannon x cullen were my goro x valerie of 2013-2014 and making her officially with someone else feels wrong bc i loved them together so much. but i just can't enjoy cullen anymore. so do i do i give rhiannon a boyfriend upgrade? do i make a whole 'nother hawke inspired by her? do i just let rhiannon x cullen and rhiannon x fenris exist in different AUs? i don't know!

and the third is kind of the opposite of the second one: a worldstate i made just for inquisition in the keep with some choices i had never made in the previous games. i don't even have the worldstate in the keep anymore so i don't remember everything but i think it was like this:

default f!mahariel [rogue; archer] no li / recruited loghain / made alistair marry anora

default m!hawke [mage] li: anders / sided with mages

keagan trevelyan [mage; knight-enchanter] herald of andraste / inquisitor / li: cullen (although i headcanoned a polycule with her, cullen, and josie)

one of my conundrums with all of these is, as i mentioned, i can't enjoy cullen anymore. he was obviously a big fave, i think his arc is fascinating especially in da2 and especially if you side with the templars and he has to contend with the shit he's done for meredith, and i enjoyed all the different shipping dynamics with all different kinds of ocs. but i can't separate him from his dipshit VA at this point. hearing his voice is just an instant NOPE for me now

i am 99% positive cullen will not be in veilguard for 2 reasons: 1) the writers said during inquisition that they were no longer trying to work in characters whose fates could be too varied depending on player choice and 2) that twitter shitstorm a few years seemed to guarantee ellis will never work with bioware again lmao

now i suppose there's a possibility that ellis could have recorded lines before that happened and somehow they would be able to be used despite all the changes that happened, but I'm trying to be an optimist here

nevertheless, all of the inquisitors i played were with him, and it sounds like we'll be able to engage with our inquisitors in some capacity in veilguard so do i even want to have a passing mention of cullen? idk. i mean, my disdain for his VA isn't so bad that this would ruin the game for me or anything, but i also feel like this is an opportunity to enjoy another character

between keagan and melisande, melisande was definitely my more developed OC, but i just loved playing as a knight-enchanter gameplay-wise so keagan is actually the only one of the two who did trespasser and jaws of hakkon. i never did the descent--the only DLC in all the games that i haven't played. I've been debating firing up my inquisitor!valerie game again to play that with her but i know the descent recommends a pretty high level and i can't remember how far i got in the story with her (I think i just reached skyhold that last time i played)

so anyway, i've got some decisions to make!

as for what i'm leaning towards playing in veilguard: at this point in time, i'm pretty sure my first rook will be a mage of some kind and lucanis sounds like he was made specifically for me lmao so odds are looking good that'll be my first ship