#3MWIAW

[autistic-red-jenny]

Three Mages Walk Into a War Chapter 8: Riding

Pairing: Lanyla Lavellan x Cullen, Tamsyn Amell x Zevran, Aliss Hawke x Fenris Fic Summary: Inquisitor Lanyla Lavellan is doing an admirable job leading the Inquisition, but she cannot do it alone. Fortunately, she has the help of two new advisers: Aliss Hawke and Tamsyn Amell. Chapter Summary: The Inquisitor and her companions set out for the Western Approach. Rating: SFW Warnings: None Author’s Note: Thanks to my favorite beta, @conteur-reveur!

AO3

It wasn’t that Hawke was afraid of horses, exactly.

She’d faced down a dragon and laughed, fought a Qunari warlord in single combat; it wouldn’t make any sense for her to be afraid of some animal.

If she seemed a bit nervous around them, it was only because she had little experience with them. Ferelden apostate families didn’t generally keep a stable, and when she’d lived in Kirkwall everything important was close enough to walk.

So if she was cautious around the beasts, there was every sensible reason for it.

That’s what she told herself, anyway.

Mounting one, however, was proving difficult. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually ridden, and most of those were a half-blind nag that belonged to a neighbor in Lothering. Which didn’t really compare to an enormous, purebred warhorse, no matter how docile the horsemaster assured her it was.

“You’re allowed to ask for help, you know,” said Tamsyn. The Warden rode up beside Hawke, calm and collected even in the chaos of Inquisition forces preparing to leave. Her mabari loped along beside the horse, mouth wide and tongue out in a doggy grin.

The Inquisitor’s party was just the head of a caravan that included foot soldiers, scouts, supply wagons, and extra horses; it was a far cry from grabbing a few friends and a dog to walk the alleyways of Kirkwall.

“Most people in armor need a hand mounting up anyway,” continued Tamsyn. “No one will think anything of it.”

“The Inquisitor doesn’t need any help,” Hawke said. She knew she sounded like a petulant child, and she hated herself a bit for it, but she was the Champion of Kirkwall, damn it, she shouldn’t this intimidated by an animal.

“Lanyla is a tiny elf who weighs six pounds soaking wet, even in that little coat she calls armor,” replied Tamsyn, arching a brow. “Not a six foot tall human in leather and metal plate.” She glanced behind where Hawke was standing. “But if you’re determined not to ask anyone for a boost, there’s a mounting block about three feet behind you.”

“Oh.”

Several minutes--and some undignified clambering--later, Hawke was on the horse and at least pretending she was ready to leave.

Fenris joined her near Skyhold’s gates on his own mount, a massive deer. He’d barely left her side in the few days since their reunion; the hovering would be almost irritating if she wasn’t just as eager to have him near.

“Are you ready to get going?” he asked.

“Oh, just thrilled,” Hawke replied. “Grey Wardens, cultists, the middle of the desert? That combination always works out so well for us.”

Fenris chuckled, a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Next time,” Hawke continued, “if someone needs us to help them save the world, we only say yes if it’s somewhere nice. An ancient magister’s uncle laying siege to a beach, maybe.”

“Don’t even joke, Hawke,” interjected Varric, riding up behind Fenris on a sturdy little pony. “With your luck, jokes like that are just giving fate ideas.” He turned to Fenris. “Would you look at that, Broody’s still all smiles.”

Fenris growled at the jab, but only half-heartedly. And Aliss had to admit, Fenris had been in a good mood ever since he joined her at Skyhold. So had she, for that matter.

Fenris said something in return, but Aliss only half-listened, her attention caught by something across the courtyard.

Tamsyn was bending over in her saddle, leaning in towards where Zevran stood beside her. The assassin rested a hand on her thigh, saying something that Hawke couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it made Tamsyn laugh and shake her head at her husband. Her smile softened as Zevran pushed back a loose strand of her hair, then grew wider when he tugged himself up by her saddle for a kiss.

Aliss looked away, feeling like she was intruding.

“Hair still soft, eyes still blue, wrinkles there that weren’t before. She’s leaving again, without me. Can’t protect her this time. Please come back, please come back to me, mi alma.”

“Cole,” said Lanyla, leading another horse up to the gates. “We talked about this. Try to stay out of people’s heads when they’re in a group, please.”

“Oh. Sorry,” said the boy--and Hawke really needed to figure out what was going on with him--though he’d apparently walked away by the time she turned to look. Which he seemed to do a lot, now that she thought about it.

“Is everyone ready?” the Inquisitor asked, pulling up and seating herself lightly in the saddle of her own horse.

“Whenever you are, Boss,” answered Iron Bull, as he and Dorian joined the rest of the party.

“I thought your Warden friend was coming?” Hawke asked. “The beardy one?”

Lanyla shrugged. “It seemed unnecessary, with Tamsyn coming. So he offered to stay behind and help train some of the new recruits. Besides,” she added, grinning up at Bull, “I hear there’s a dragon in the area.”

With the Qunari’s booming laugh echoing through Skyhold’s courtyard, they set off across the stone bridge.

  Lanyla wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the expression on Hawke’s face or offer her some kind of poultice to help with whatever was causing her so much pain.

Varric had been teasing her ever since they left Skyhold, only increasing it once they’d took a break at noon and had to mount up again. Now that they were nearing evening, Lanyla was fairly certain that Hawke’s concentration on riding was the only thing keeping her from setting Varric’s chest hair on fire. As it was, she’d barely said a word in response in a few hours, focusing instead on her white-knuckled grip on the reins.

On Hawke’s other side was Fenris, apparently much more comfortable in the saddle, but just as quiet. He smirked every so often at one of Varric’s comments, but managed a straight face whenever Hawke looked his way.

Lanyla realized that they’d barely spoken since he’d come to Skyhold beyond the short introduction Aliss had given. She’d meant to ask him more about his time in Kirkwall and about Hawke, but he had an air about him that seemed to discourage casual conversation. Which only made things more awkward now that they’d be traveling and fighting together for the foreseeable future.

“Fenris?” Lanyla said, spurring her horse forward to draw even with him. The other elf nodded in acknowledgement.

“Inquisitor,” he replied, his tone formal and his posture a bit stiff. Hawke, on his other side, was even stiffer, glaring at her mount’s head like she expected it to turn and attack her. Fenris followed Lanyla’s gaze, and his expression softened marginally when he looked at Hawke.

“Is there something you need?” he said, turning back to Lanyla.

“Oh, um…” she said, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just… Varric said you speak Qunlat?”

“Yes?” he answered, raising an eyebrow.

“The Qunari have reached out to us recently,” Lanyla continued, growing a bit more confident, “about allying against Corypheus, so I thought I’d learn some of the language to communicate better. Bull’s been helping me, but no one else I work with speaks it. And I’d really like to practice with another person, too, so I can get another opinion on how I’m doing.”

“If you like, Inquisitor,” he replied, nodding in her direction.

“Just don’t let him arrange any duels with the Arishok,” said Hawke, managing a quip even while holding her entire body as stiffly as possible. “He’s really good at doing that.”

“Be fair, Hawke,” said Varric, “that was at least half Rivaini’s fault too.”

Lanyla could hear Tamsyn chuckle on her right, where the Warden kept pace on her massive black charger. “If it helps, Lanyla,” she said. “I think the current Arishok would be a bit easier to deal with without a duel. He’s hard, but reasonable. Or at least he was when I knew him.”

“You know the Arishok?” Lanyla asked.

“Yes. Though he was a Sten of the Beresaad when we met.”

“Ha! Dorian, you owe me ten sovereigns,” Bull said, interrupting from where he and Dorian rode behind them. The mage shook his head and started rummaging in one of the pouches on his belt. “He didn’t believe me when I said you were that Warden,” Bull explained.

Tamsyn laughed again. “Yes, I am that Warden. I suppose it’s no use trying to keep it a secret when we’re going to be working together these next few weeks. Especially not from you, Hissrad.”

Lanyla glanced back to Bull, not sure what his reaction would be. But the Qunari only shook his head, leaning back a bit in his saddle for one of his deep barking laughs. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out, after all that time in Par Vollen. And your Crow seems sharp, too.”

Frowning, Lanyla opened her mouth to ask when Tamsyn had been in Par Vollen, and how Bull knew Zevran was a Crow, when she was interrupted by Barkspawn huffing as one of the Inquisition scouts came trotting up to their party.

“Inquisitor!” he called, reining in his horse. “We’ve marked a spot for a camp, just about a mile ahead. “The forward unit has already started setting up, your tents should be ready by the time you get there.”

“Thank you,” Lanyla replied.

“Fucking finally,” she heard Hawke mutter.

“What’s your name?” Lanyla asked the scout, ignoring Hawke’s grousing.

He straightened a bit in his saddle and squared his shoulders. He couldn’t be more than nineteen, with barely enough goatee to cover his chin. “Bevis, Your Worship.”

“Thank you, Bevis,” Lanyla said. “Good work.”

The lad beamed, saluting with an arm across his chest. He dipped his head quickly and then rode off, presumably to report to one of the leaders further back in the caravan.

“Hear that, Hawke?” Varric asked. “We’ll be able to camp soon.”

“My hearing is fine, Varric, thank you.”

“Just in time to rest up for another three weeks of riding!”

Lanyla had to admire the creativity of Hawke’s profanity. Not to mention the quantity.

 Tamsyn took a long drink to finish off her cider, listening to Hawke and Varric bicker on the other side of the fire. She had to laugh a bit, listening to them. She knew they’d been friends for almost as long as she’d known Zevran, and they clearly cared for each other, but once they got going they squabbled like children.

Fenris didn’t talk nearly as much, but he stayed at Hawke’s side, listening to her talk and rarely taking his eyes from her face.

Not that Tamsyn blamed him. She fingered the gold hoop in her right ear and looked down at her hand. The band on her ring finger glinted in the firelight. Maker, she missed Zevran already. And it’d likely be another two months, at least, before she saw him again.

They’d been separated before, had been apart longer, but it never got easier.

Barkspawn whined a bit and laid his head in her lap, looking up at her in that too-smart way he had. She smiled softly and scratched behind his ear until he huffed and closed his eyes.

“So, Warden,” asked Varric. “The Hero of Ferelden must have some stories.”

Tamsyn laughed and set down her drink. “Most of it wasn’t nearly as exciting as everyone seems to think. A lot of walking, a lot of camping, a lot of bad stew. You should know better than anyone how stories get blown out of proportion.”

“Bullshit,” said Hawke. “Even if only a tenth of the stories are true, you still have plenty to tell.”

“She has a point,” Dorian added, speaking up for the first time since they'd started eating. The mage had been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd left Skyhold. If Tamsyn had to guess, it was probably because of the looks Aliss shot him every so often and the long stares Fenris gave him.

“We heard things about you even in Tevinter,” he continued. “And most of my countrymen would rather die than compliment a Ferelden.”

“The Dalish too!” Lanyla interjected. “For months, it seemed like every bit of news we got was about refugees, the Blight, or you. Even out in the Marches.”

Tamsyn held up her hands. “Alright, alright!” she said, laughing. “I surrender.” She leaned back and supported herself with a hand. “Let’s see… Have any of you ever been to the Brecilian Forest?”

The evening went on like that, Tamsyn and the others swapping stories and feeding the dying fire.

After a few hours, Hawke yawned and stood, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, as fun as this has been,” she said, “I need to try and sleep if I’m going to be spending another month riding that creature.” Fenris stood to join her, taking her hand as they walked towards the tent set up for them. “Goodnight!” she called over one shoulder, laughing as Fenris tugged her through the opening in the canvas.

“Who wants to take first watch?” asked Lanyla.

“I’ll do it,” Tamsyn answered. “I’ll be up a while longer anyway.”

“I’ll join you, Warden,” said Varric. “Bianca’s still a bit antsy. She can never sleep the first night on the road.”

Lanyla laughed as the others started getting up. “Wake me in a few hours, I’ll take a turn. You’re sharing a tent with me.”

Barkspawn stood and trotted after Lanyla, then looked back at Tamsyn with a cocked head.

“Go on,” she said. “I’ll come soon.” The mabari stayed where he was, still watching her. Tamsyn raised an eyebrow. “Go. Guard the Inquisitor. I’m fine here.”

Barkspawn turned away, apparently satisfied with his new orders, though he looked back at her twice more before entering the tent. Some days Tamsyn wondered why he didn’t start speaking Common just so he could argue with her outright.

As everyone made their way to their tents and settled in, Tamsyn and Varric moved to a spot out of the fire’s direct light. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness, and Tamsyn took a deep breath as she looked up at the stars. Eleven years out of the Circle, and it still felt like something special to look up and see sky instead of stone.

“Thirsty?” Varric asked, passing her a flask that he pulled from some hidden pocket.

“Thanks.”

Tamsyn took a swig, handed it back, and they sat in silence for a while, just watching the night. A short ways down a hill she could see the fires of the main Inquisition camp, figures moving in front of the light and between the tents.

“So, Master Tethras,” she said, after a long while without speaking. “I read your book.”

Varric chuckled. “Really?” he replied. “Well, I’m flattered.”

“Mmhmm,” said Tamsyn, reaching for the flask and taking another drink. “And I had a question for you.” She handed it back and turned to stare down the dwarf. “You know that Anders served with me at Vigil’s Keep.”

“Blondie might’ve mentioned it, yeah.”

“And while we worked together, I told Anders a few stories. Places I’ve been, battles I fought, that kind of thing.” She leaned forward and rested her chin in one hand. “And, you know, I couldn’t help but notice a few similarities between one of those stories and a certain scene in your book.”

“Oh?” said Varric, suddenly very interested in polishing the stock of his crossbow.

“Yeah, you tend not to forget fighting a nightmarish monster formed of corpses and blood magic.”

“Hmm?” murmured Varric, brushing an invisible speck of dust off of his sleeve.

“And when Zevran and I were in the Free Marches, we ran into this group of mages. Said they were from Kirkwall.”

“No kidding.”

“And, you know, the mage leading them… he looked an awful lot like how you described Orsino.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. He told us this great story, about how this apostate and her friends helped them escape the city. About how a brilliant author promised to cover for them once they were gone.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“Yeah.”

They both fell silent, watching the quiet hills around them.

“Weird coincidence, isn’t it?” said Tamsyn.

“Yeah. Weird.”

[autistic-red-jenny]

It’s not Wednesday, but have a WIP bit anyway

No context, because spoilers, but I’ve been skipping around writing bits of the next few chapters of Three Mages Walk Into A War, and this is one of my favorite scenes

Tamsyn moved to sit next to her and, tentatively, wrapped her arms around the other woman. When Hawke didn’t try to pull away, she drew closer and laid her head against the Champion’s shoulder.

“I never got to know my sisters,” she said, without preamble. “We were separated and sent away as children, and I don’t even know if they’re alive right now.

“Alistair Theirin was a brother to me, but our lives took different paths a long time ago, and I’ve made my peace with that.

“Which means, Hawke, that the sum total of my family is Zevran and you.

“And I promise you, no matter what you decide to do, no matter what happens, or how anyone reacts, I will be here to help. You will not be alone.”

[autistic-red-jenny]

The Western Approach is Thedas Australia

[autistic-red-jenny]

48 for Three Mages Walk Into A War??

48. three spoilers for (insert story title)

Vaguely, and in no particular order:

Blackwall, baby, waltz

Fic Writer Asks (my writing)

[autistic-red-jenny]

New chapter of Three Mages Walk Into a War!

Thanks so much to @conteur-reveur for being an awesome beta!

[autistic-red-jenny]

TMI Tuesday!

Because I’m finally writing again, let’s do asks about a specific 'verse, the Hawke-and-the-Warden-are-DAI-advisers AU from my fic Three Mages Walk Into a War

Ask me anything about the fic, the AU, my characters, or their relationships!

The three main characters from this fic are:

Tamsyn Amell (mage, married to Zevran)

Aliss Hawke (mage, in a relationship with Fenris)

Lanyla Lavellan (mage, starting a relationship with Cullen)

[autistic-red-jenny]

Snippet from my “Hawke and Warden as DAI advisors/companions (doesn’t really fit the storyline as of now, but this was inspired by some of my favorite banter between Varric, Dorian, and Bull and I like it too much to delete)

“Passion it is, then,” said Varric, laughing as their party sat down for a short rest.

Dorian groaned, and looked at Hawke. “Has he always been like this, or is it a recent affliction?”

She snorted, and took a swig from her flask. “Don't complain to me, Tevinter. He's just teasing you about your love life. He published mine. Consider yourself lucky.”

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Fic Excerpt

I’d written this exchange between Hawke and my Amell for a scene in “Three Mages” that ended up getting cut; I liked how this part turned out, but the pacing didn’t work. It might still make it into the fic later, but for now I’m going to post it alone.

“I’ve been meaning to thank you, Champion,” said Tamsyn, “for helping Zevran back in Kirkwall.” She looked over to where the elf was speaking with the Inquisitor. He glanced up and met her eyes, giving her a soft smile before returning to his conversation. “I know he can get himself into a lot of trouble on his own. He’s a bit of an idiot, sometimes. But he’s my idiot, and I would miss him if something happened.”

Hawke glanced between them, suddenly understanding why the assassin had come to Skyhold.

“Oh… you two… you’re together?” said Hawke.

Tamsyn smiled. “For more than a decade now. Since the Blight.” She looked at him again, a fond smile on her lips. “Why? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, no, I guess not…” Hawke wasn’t sure how to put this. “I was just… under the impression that he had been… involved with a friend of mine in Kirkwall.” Maker, she hoped she hadn’t said something stupid to ruin the tentative friendship between them.

To her utter astonishment, Tamsyn laughed. “Oh, you mean Isabela? Lovely woman. Technically, we were both… involved with her. Several times. He’s a terrible flirt, I know, but he wouldn’t do anything without me there.”

Hawke could feel a hot flush rising on her cheeks. Not that she was a blushing virgin, by any means, but somehow hearing about the sexual exploits of the Hero of Ferelden, of all people, seemed… wrong.

[autistic-red-jenny]

WIP Wednesday!

(Formatting might be weird, since I'm posting from mobile, but here's a snippet from the FenHawke reunion scene I'm writing for 3MWiaW) Hawke could hardly believe what she was seeing. It was Fenris, in the flesh, and only feet between them instead of leagues. In all the times she’d dreamed and fantasized about reuniting with him, she’d never imagined that he’d come to Skyhold. That he’d come in through the castle gates like a man on a mission, hood up and sword strapped to his back. Even with his face in shadow, she’d known him immediately. He still refused to wear shoes, even in the southern mountains, and the way he held himself as he walked--practically prowling--was unmistakable. And he still wore her red ribbon around his wrist like a promise.

[autistic-red-jenny]

One of my favorite things about my current WIP is playing with the dynamics of couples at different stages in their relationships. Like Lanyla and Cullen are still in the "new and shiny" phase, where they're in love and happy finding peace with each other but are still learning each other and aren't totally settled into a relationship. And Hawke and Fenris have known each other for years, but they're still figuring out the relationship thing. (Doesn't help that neither of them have really had a relationship before). So there's a weird mix of tension and comfort when they're together. But Tamsyn and Zevran have been together for about eleven years by the time Inquisition takes place. So even with all the chaos in Thedas, they are totally secure in each other and in their relationship. And with the traveling and questing they do, being together is the closest thing to home they really have.