#Athim Lavellan

[binabees]

The Regret of a God

The appeal of Solavellan to me is the fact that Lavellan matches Solas’ freak

It’s of note that Solas views them as the biggest threat to his plans. He’s constantly running away from them as Lavellan hunts him across Thedas.

Like we get on Solas for being gone over Lavellan but remember that it’s LAVELLAN who eagerly initiate the romance.

From their perspective they initiate a romance with this weirdo who they KNOW is lying or at best keeping secrets all the time. They look at that and go “yea I want some of that”

We talk about Solas’ commitment issues but Lavellan can break up with him at multiple times and they don’t even tell Solas they love him until he’s LEAVING. And even a Lavellan who still holds onto their love for Solas can be just as sharp and prickly over the break up. Like Lavellan does not let him just dump them without an explanation.

Solas falls for Lavellan because they’re able to catch him off guard at every turn whether it’s with their kindness, wisdom, or rage.

They have a strong sense of justice plus a wit & a wisdom to Rival the trickster God of Rebellion.

Lavellan is kind of insane and terrifying when you think about it and Solas should not be the only person we talk about being crazy about the other.

[saintlethanavir]

Inspired by a post @pinayelf did of her oc Immy's children with Cullen!!

In terms of children I think Calliope and Dorian may have more in the future but as of the end of Jaws of Hakkon they welcome little Athim into the world! Calliope had no idea they were pregnant/it was a cryptic pregnancy and y'know the stress just had their water breaking. It's fine.

Athim Pavus is a very sweet child who takes after their Papae in being a very reactionary and emotional mage. It's a bit dangerous raising a half elven baby in Tevinter but it is FOR SURE extra dangerous raising a reactionary dreamer mage who's going through his terrible two's. Like both of his father's he's very adept at fire magic and it actually soothes him when he's quite young because he has a hard time regulating his body temperature (Autism Things TM). So once he manages to NOT burn his fingertips he uses small fire spells to warm himself back up during colder nights in Kirkwall and Minrathous. At a young age his parents do realize that he's a Dreamer Mage though, and seek help to make sure he isn't targeted by anything out in the Fade (Solas, and other things I can't mention without spoiling my fic but you get the idea). Eventually Calliope settles on teaching him what they learned through Vivienne during Inquisition and in turn he becomes a formidable Knight Enchanter when he's older, opting to use a greatsword/Reaver like attacks like his Papae. I think he does incorporate things like Walking Bomb from the Necromancer subclass that he's learned from Dorian as well. Anything he gets from that side of things though are meant to bolster his intimidation tactics on the battle field.

[lasatfat]

A Small, Quiet Companion

also on AO3

I wrote this for Krem Week 2024, initially for the "play" prompt? But there is some discussion of families too. There will be a part two, but it's not finished yet, and I wanted to make sure I didn't miss the event.

I hope you all enjoy!

*****

“In a world where everyone seems to be larger and louder than yourself, it is very comforting to have a small, quiet companion.” - Peter Gray

When he convinced the Chief to sign the Bull’s Chargers up for the Inquisition, Krem hadn’t been expecting to find so much common ground with the Inquisitor himself.

There’s the obvious similarity, of course, the one over which they’d initially bonded. The Iron Bull calls it aqun-athlok, the Dalish call it shiralen’ashin, but it amounts to the same: both Gideon Lavellan and Cremisius Aclassi are men who started out as something else. That got them talking, but the more they talked, the more connections they uncovered. They’re both far from home, both proverbial fish out of water. Speaking of, they share a taste for fish pockets; their recipes are different, but equally delicious. They both cook, they both sew, and they both enjoy the soft insults the Bull’s Chargers toss between each other. Small things, really, but they’d coalesced into something that Krem is pleased to call a friendship.

And now, there’s one more similarity. Their parents are gone.

It’s not the same, Krem reminds himself, as he stuffs and stitches his latest project. His mother and father may still be out there, somewhere. His father may still be enslaved in Minrathous. His mother may be a slave too, by now, or she might have found some way to eke out a living on her own. She’d only have to feed herself now, after all. At the end of the day, there are questions, unknowns, but those questions bring with them hope. Krem may yet see his parents again, someday.

Gideon’s parents are dead. No questions, there, and no hope either. He and his sisters will never see them again.

Sisters, plural. That had been news. Krem knows Gideon’s twin, Athim, well enough – she isn’t much of a drinker, but she’ll often spend her evenings in the Herald’s Rest, enjoying the music, playing cards, or just talking to anyone and everyone. He’d beaten her at Wicked Grace quite a few times, and she’d always responded with an assurance that “I’ll win one day, Cremisius Aclassi.” Neither she nor Gideon had mentioned their other sister. She’s much younger than they are, from what Krem understands, and she’d been brought to Skyhold to be with her family.

Ever since he heard that news, Krem has been working on something. He’d made these before, and the process is familiar enough to be soothing. To watch pink fabric cut, pulled and stitched into the shape of limbs and a head, and filled with lambswool until it holds, it’s rewarding in its way. He always makes the hands, feet and wings separately. Makes them easier to stuff. Floppy pink ovals for ears, stitches outlining a mouth and nostrils and black button eyes complete the toy.

The girl arrived a few days ago, and since then, the three siblings have been sequestered in the Inquisitor’s rooms, presumably to let her adjust. So much change so quickly would be difficult for him; for a young child, it must be downright nightmarish. He leaves his armour in his own room – it might hide his figure better, but he’s conscious of how it might scare the girl further. He opts instead for a simple baggy shirt, jerkin and trousers. He tucks the finished toy under his arm, and goes to meet them.

Up the stairs, across the main hall, and through the door adjacent to the Inquisitor’s throne. Krem wonders if Gideon might one day sit upon it and render judgement upon his parents’ killers. Somehow, he doubts it. Life is rarely that…just. He climbs the short flight of stairs to the inner door, and knocks three times. It’s only then that he realises his gift is on full display under his arm, and he quickly moves it behind his back instead.

He needn’t have panicked. His knocking seems to have sparked up a conversation.

“…and Josephine said they would handle everything,” he hears Athim say.

“Unless there was an emergency,” Gideon replies. “Oh, you’re coming with me, are you?” He makes a sound like he’s lifting something.

“You can’t take her to the War Council! What if she hears something?”

Krem knocks again. “It’s just me, Your Worship,” he calls.

There’s a moment of silence, in which Krem can imagine the twins exchanging confused looks. He has no official reason to be here, after all. Footsteps clump down the stairs, and the door opens.

Athim looks as if she hasn’t slept properly in weeks. Maybe she hasn’t. Her eyes are dull, sitting above dark bags, and her face is distinctly drawn. She doesn’t bother smiling.

“Hi, Krem,” she says. “Sorry, it’s not a good time. You’d be better off going to Commander Cullen.”

“It’s not official business,” he replies. “I brought something for the kid, to help her settle in, you know?”

Athim blinks, surprised. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

Still, she looks down at her feet for a moment, ashamed. When she looks back up, it’s with a warm smile. “Why don’t you come in, for a bit?”

Krem follows her up the stairs. He’s never been in the Inquisitor’s room before, and truth be told, he’d never expected to. It’s well-appointed, to say the least. Three walls of full-length windows, only interrupted by a fireplace and a set of bookshelves in the corner. Skyhold might be impossibly warm, but this room must hold so little of the heat.

Gideon is sitting on the four-poster bed, holding the little girl on his lap. He looks just as bad – the bags under his eyes could be mistaken for the sails of a galleon – but his smile too is genuine. “How many times do I have to tell you? You don’t have to call me ‘your Worship.’”

Krem chuckles, softly. “Force of habit, your…Inquisitor.”

Gideon raises an eyebrow, but lets him off.

“Are you alright?” Krem asks, and immediately cringes. Of fucking course he isn’t alright.

“Better since she arrived, honestly,” says Gideon. Not a no, but not a yes either, and luckily not a ‘what do you think, idiot?’ “Yourself?” And that’s Gideon all the way down, asking after Krem right now.

“I’m fine,” Krem answers.

“Krem brought something for Aisling,” Athim intones. She’s behind him, so she will have seen what it is, but she has obviously caught the clues that it’s meant to be a surprise.

“Oh, you don’t know her name, do you?” Gideon says, suddenly. He lightly bounces the child in his arms. “Krem, this is Aisling. Aisling, this is Krem. It’s alright. He’s my friend.”

Aisling can’t be older than four. Her thick, curled hair is ash-brown, instead of the golden blonde of her siblings, but the same slate-grey eyes watch him from under her fringe. The same golden skin is just as saturated with freckles. She clings on to Gideon as if he might disappear if she lets go.

Krem kneels in front of her, and smiles in a way he hopes is reassuring. “Hello, Aisling,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Aisling looks up to Gideon’s face, receiving a nod. Heartened, she smiles herself, and takes one hand from around Gideon’s chest to give Krem a little wave.

Krem pulls the gift out from behind his back: a pink, plush nug, with little white wings. It’s about half the size of a real one, all the better for a small child to handle. Its limbs hang limply, its ears flop endearingly. He usually stuffs them enough to be able to stand, but he thought she might appreciate something a little softer.

Aisling looks down at it. “Is it a bunny?” she asks.

“No, da’len, it’s a nug. See?” Gideon points to its wide snout, and its odd little hands.

“Oh,” she says, and then adds, “I like nugs, too.”

Krem holds it out to within her arm’s reach. She takes it by the front leg, gently, as if worried about hurting it.

“What do you say, Aisling?” prompts Athim, gently.

Aisling gathers her courage once again, enough to say a quiet, “ma serannas.”

“That means ‘thank you.’”

“I know. Dalish will say it sometimes.” He smiles to Aisling again. “You’re very welcome.”

Aisling smiles back, and then appears to lose her nerve, burying her face in Gideon’s chest. She wraps one arm around him, too, but the other hand holds the nug tight.

Gideon manages a laugh. “I think you’re on to a winner there, Krem.”

Athim offers a hand to help Krem to his feet. Looking at her face, he can see the tears in her eyes, as she smiles fondly at her little sister. He politely averts his own eyes.

“I’ll see myself out,” he offers. “You stay with her.”

She catches his wrist, and he meets her gaze despite himself. “Thank you,” she says, quietly.

Krem smiles, warmly. “It’s alright. Really, it’s alright. You guys just feel better.”

As he walks back down the stairs, Krem wonders if he shouldn’t make more toys for kids.

[fatale-distraction]

I have so many writing ideas now that I’ve finished Veilguard

Including a long and detailed explanation of what the fuck Ellana has been doing and where other characters were during all this because although I LOOOOOOVED the game, I do have issues with certain crucial characters and plot points being completely unaddressed.

I’ve already started a new Rook specifically for this purpose.

Athim Aldwir-Lavellan

They/them Veil Jumper warrior

One of their fathers is an older brother of Ellana. They’ll be romancing Bellara, giving Solas shit for dumping their favorite auntie, and generally fucking shit up wherever they go.

[nerdmomma14]

Hello friends...I thought I'd share my Solas romancing Inquisitor Athim Lavellan in DAI and now in DATV... she looks so sad... I'm so happy lol 😂

[avernusreject]

The urge to rename my Lavellan Athim, which means humility in elven, just to juxtapose Solas' name translating to pride. Metagame in that subtle foreshadowing that these two were never meant for a happy ending.

[senseandaccountability]

If I'm writing not only a Solavellan post-game fic that is already up on AO3 but also a Rook/Davrin & Solas/Lavellan story about faith, legacy, history and what sort of stories we should tell that is almost entirely inspired by the endgame banter where Solas says "Mala shivanas ar athim" in response to Davrin being the man that he is about the whole elven gods destroy the world business?

Why yes, yes I am.

[mzap]

Hey M! Nice to see the DA enthusiasm! Do you have a canon worldstate you're thinking of bringing into DA:TV? I'm really curious about it if so!

I do! There's another world state I was playing through a while ago where I make different decisions, but I've been kind of reluctant to make some of those decisions in DAI, so I haven't completed it haha (maybe the upcoming release date will encourage me to)

But you asked about my canon playthrough!

DAO: Melantha Tabris - warrior - romanced Alistair and survived the Blight. She's canonically his mistress post-game (he's unmarried), but I'm going to be so for real right now, it's been 20 years: they're married in my mind (at least secretly). If I were to give her a DA2 personality type, it'd be the blue diplomatic/helpful one.

DA2: Arzhela Hawke - mage - romanced Fenris and sided with the mages. To date, one of my favorite protagonist names. She's also sarcastic/purple Hawke and I adore her.

DAI: Athim Lavellan - mage - romanced Solas (rip), Leliana is Divine, elected to disband the Inquisition, and attempted to redeem Solas. Athim is very much the reluctant protagonist: she wants nothing but to return home to her clan and resume her responsibilities to eventually become Keeper. She has the red aggressive/direct personality, and yes, her name is a little ironic since she's very prideful and her name means "humility" in Elvhenan. While she attempted to redeem Solas, I'm kinda hoping for a tragic ending to that? For the drama, I suppose haha

[verrucktetiere]

How many of us named our Lavellan “Athim” or “Athima” on our second Inquisition play through

[sidhelives]

Guess what I'm working oooooon

"Does knowing what I am put me in danger of some kind?"

He tilted his head in the other direction. "Not you. Knowing means you can use it. Knowing gives you power."

Interesting phrasing. Intentional, like many of the veiled hints Cole had been endeavoring to give her. Brow wrinkling in thought, Athim considered Cole, the way his eyes glittered with words he could not speak.

"That power doesn't put me in danger," she thought aloud. "But it could endanger someone else, or something else." Her brow smoothed as realization dawned. "He thinks I can stop him."

Cole didn't respond, but his chest had stopped moving. Holding his breath.

"Is he right? Could I?" Not something Solas told him, not something he felt. A question Cole could answer.

He nodded. "You're like him. A match, in every way."

Athim chewed her lip. Solas was determined, so determined that he had kept her from knowledge that could have helped her, helped the Inquisition.

I walk the Din'anshiral. There is only death on this journey.

Her jaw stiffened. She wasn't going to let that happen.

Tagging: @kittynomsdeplume @hezjena @cassipie @jrastegar @noire-pandora @rosella-writes @humblebumble @fiannans @theelibugs @the-cryptographer

[flohgna]

I want to introduce my OCs a bit better & to progress so I'm challenging myself to draw one (almost) everyday, during one to two hours max. You can check them on my tag #FlohGnaOCs !

Day 1: Athim Lavellan (she/her), one of my characters from Dragon Age Inquisition. (1 hour & a half)

Trespasser choices: Leliana is Divine, she didn't sacrifice the Chargers (no one is killing Krem in this house), she is looking for Solas'redemption & didn't disband the Inquisition.

Template by hchomgoblin, their tumblr doesn't exist anymore, if someone knows where to credit them!

I don't know if I'll do a speeddrawing everytime but I'll at least try, even a quick one:

Webcomic | Online shop | Commissions | Support me on Ko-fi!

[binabees]

Eager Pupil

+

These spot the difference images are getting pretty hard

[saintlethanavir]

I donate: Calliope is in a quad with Iron Bull, Dorian, and my husband's Lavellan -- Feynrith, and they have four kids. Athim is their eldest and is biologically Dorian's, he's probably 14 or a bit older at the time of DA4, he's a dreamer mage and is learning necromancy from his dad. Thalia is the middle child and is biologically Feynriths and they are a sweet little rogue who is selectively mute! Chava and Nissim are twins and they are the youngest, born to Calliope and Iron Bull. Both are mages and both are albino, but Nissim dyes his hair black! They're also identical!

If you have Inquisitors, Hawkes, or Wardens that have children and families and have cute domestic lives this is your chance to please tell me about them, I am no longer asking I am demanding

[lasatfat]

Happy Friday! ❛who in the fuck authorized this?❜ for Rian/Varric ~ @lordgoretash

adventuring party dialogue | @dadrunkwriting | @theaceofdragons

I'm hoping this fits the spirit of the prompt, at least? Even though I didn't get the exact line in there. For context: Athim romanced Solas, the twins are his, but he bounced before she could tell him about it. Go figure. That guy has the worst luck.

Planning Permission

It’s been a good five years since Kirkwall’s Chantry was destroyed. A lot of critical infrastructure was damaged by the blast, and the unrest that followed. Up until now, reconstruction efforts had been concentrated on trivial things like the water supply, the docks and sewage systems. By the beginning of 9:43 Dragon, the work is still well underway, but at least the people’s waste is firmly underground in a pipe where it belongs.

The nobles of the city are also tired of worshipping in a temporary wooden building, and now they have a viscount to petition. Negotiations started as soon as he arrived home, and have continued for the four months since then. Varric supposes he can’t complain – according to Bran Cavin, the original plan involved enough marble to eat up three years’ worth of taxes – but the back and forth of ‘too expensive,’ ‘too big,’ or ‘why do you need this much fucking gold’ is really starting to get on his nerves. He had even considered abdicating, but his successor would probably not have the same interest in things like housing Kirkwall’s citizens.

He knows that he’s working too late whenever Hawke comes looking for him. They’ll either drag him to bed, or, increasingly, send for tea and sweets to fuel the midnight politicking. Tonight, Athim decides to join them.

“I can’t sleep,” she laments, as he stands to offer her his chair.

“You okay?”

“I’m under attack, is what I am,” she replies. She sits down, heavily – at six months pregnant with twins, ‘heavily’ is about the only way she does anything these days. “The second I get anything close to comfortable, one of them starts kicking me.” Varric can’t really empathize with that, but he squeezes her shoulder in commiseration.

Hawke pours three cups of the tea, something herbal that Varric probably wouldn’t touch with a bargepole if he had drunk anything else in the past three hours. “Is it the Chantry thing again?” they ask, as he rounds the desk to stand beside them.

“What else would it be?” he replies.

They sit perched on the edge of the desk in comfortable silence, sipping tea, and taking bites of the shortbread Hawke had picked out from the kitchens. It takes one cup for Varric to decide that the plans can wait until tomorrow. After months of bothering their viscount, the city council can wait another day. “Well, I’m going to bed,” he says, putting the cup down. “What about you, Hawke?”

“Oh, try and stop me,” they laugh.

Looking over the desk, though, Athim doesn’t appear to have registered this development. She frowns silently down at the papers, deep in concentration.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Varric says, warmly. She doesn’t answer, running her fingers along the lines on the pages, lines that would later translate to walls and doors and windows. As absorbed as she is, he decides to walk around the desk and rest a hand on her arm.

She glances up, and does a little double-take. “Oh, me?”

“Yes, you,” he says. “You look like you’ve got an idea or two brewing.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’re asking a Dalish elf for city planning advice. I’ve never even lived in a city before.”

“I’m not asking any old Dalish elf, I’m asking you,” he protests. “I trust you.”

Athim hesitates, but he nods, encouragingly. Apparently, this is the final touch to convince her that he isn’t just being polite. She pushes herself to her feet, awkwardly, and leans over the building plans again. “I was just thinking…what if…?”

She takes a pencil from the table, drawing roughly over the shape of the building as she talks. “You could have the Chantry half the size.” She makes a corresponding line straight down the middle of the building. “Still big enough to house the nobles, but then you have space for something else, like a library, or a school…”

“Or a clinic,” Hawke chimes in.

“Or a clinic!” She points her pencil at them, grinning with the kind of untainted joy she hasn’t shown in months.

Shame he has to cut it down.

“The first dwarf Viscount of Kirkwall halves the size of the Chantry, on the advice of his Dalish friend,” he says. “I don’t think it’s going to go over well.”

Athim’s face falls. She might as well have stabbed him in the heart. “No, you’re right,” she says. But then, her eyes fill with energy again, and she flips the paper over. “What if we built a second Chantry? In Lowtown, so the people have somewhere to worship too. If anything, that’s more Chantry than there was before, it’s just in different places. We could run a school or clinic right out of the building.”

Varric scratches his chin. It’s a great idea, if your motivation is to help people, but he has a sneaking suspicion that the nobles breathing down his neck are more interested in having a fancy building in their neighbourhood. “Listen, I love it,” he begins, “but I’m not convinced the council will go for it.”

Hawke frowns, looking back and forth between them as if waiting for them to notice the strikingly obvious. “Aren’t you two forgetting something?”

“Like what?”

They lean over the desk, face forming into an impish grin. “We know the Divine.”

Construction on Kirkwall’s twin Chantries begins within the month.

[lorspolairepeluche]

📖 ofc for Halla about Callie!

5 Cloudreach, 9:42 Dragon.

It was a long, hard process, but just after noon, Inquisitor Calliope Lavellan was delivered of a healthy son. His name is Athim, and I was the third person to hold him, while the midwives and healers cleaned up the mess. He’s a sweet boy, if, you know, loud. But that’s a good thing, right? And I got to hold both him and Callie when they first fed him.They’re sleeping now, both of them. I’m holding him as I write; he seems to like it. I’m surprised at that, honestly; Gid and Lissy never seemed to like falling asleep in my arms. Too skinny. But Athim sleeps soundly with me.Damn these maternal instincts; I think I’m already in love.

what does my oc say to/about yours?

[forystr]

i wanted to do portraits of all my elf ocs!! id love to do this for the other races too ?? top to bottom: revassan tillahnen, fenesvir lavellan, rajamahel mahariel, athim tabris