#Dao

[odyssiaca]

you are the hero of ferelden. no matter your origin you watch those you love most be ripped from you. death becomes an endless cycle which seems to follow you wherever you go. the fate of the world rests on your shoulders as you know you can never return home. home is gone now. home is buried with your family, jailed with your closest ally, cradled by the ancestors, forgotten like your beloved, lost to time in the murky glass of the eluvian- dead in your arms, killed at your hand. you are the hero of ferelden and it is your destiny to die. when next the world falls apart, you do not come. this world does not deserve your pity.

you are the champion of kirkwall. you are a refugee, cold and hungry and sold into labour. your mother hates you, though she will never say it. it's your fault the ogre killed your sibling, your fault the taint took the other. but you are happy. you have everything, friends and family and status and riches. you defeat the people plaguing your glorious city, you are the people's hero. you will always know even as she came back, isabela left you to die. you are happy but you are alone. you have everything and then you are rocking back and forth begging please please please do not take my mother as well. you have nothing, but you for a single second, you had everything. you are the champion of kirkwall, and your ally has blown up the chantry. where is your home now that everything is your fault?

you are the herald of andraste. and you are so, so scared. these people do not trust you, do not like you, would feed you to the fade if they could. they do not care if you follow another religion, you are their herald. you can never return home because heroes do not have homes. they say home is the people you choose, but you didn't choose these people, did you? every step you take aches. thousands reach out to touch you, for safety. for comfort. you are a black hole close to destruction, and you cannot do this. you are the herald of andraste and you have not been yourself for so long now.

[wispw3aver]

I miss from the other games that you couldn't give many gifts or prank gifts to the companions.....🥲

gifts for the whole party

[roraimae]

Like dogs, Shianni

[nugromancer]

[greenfinchg-illustration]

How to distract a spymaster🪶

[unfairunknown]

Also in the intro to the series, in DAO when you HAVE to be a grey warden, you have to quest to find the chalice for your Joining, you go on a literal Holy Grail Quest first.

Grey warden joining ritual got me going insane with the symbolism bro. It's a eucharist. It's a deadly horrible Eucharist taken at the alter of darkness. "This is the body, this is the blood of our God" except the God is old and tainted and now you will be tainted too - it will link you body and soul to a God who is uncaring and whose hoards march the earth. You will join us here at this last supper and it may very well be your last. Drink this; in remeberance of all those who died and will die if you don't. Drink this; and become part of the body of something bigger than yourself, but corrupt from the inside out. I'm going insane man

[kiivg]

.Oh, Grey Warden.

[lavenderstobins]

replaying origins and i just maxed out sten's approval so naturally i thought of this tweet and had to make it

[nimvaell]

[taabakiera]

she has andrastian equivalent of coke rosary

does anyone ever think about the implications of lyrium dust as a consumable item?? like how does that work exactly. is wynne doing lines on the battlefield

[dalishious]

Call him out, Jowan!

[stormwifewrites]

👑 Ero Quod Spero

Hey have you guys heard of this game Dragon Age: Origins -

anyways here's a little King Alistair, happy Sunday! 👑🐴🌹

Alistair pulls her in for a kiss, and he lingers even after her lips leave his, sifting his fingers gently through her hair and watching it shimmer around his hands like bolts of straw-blonde silk. “I’m… sorry, my love,” Siobhan says, her hands curling into loose fists at his chest. He feels his heart thumping against them, his future weighed in her hands. “It was a long day at court. I’m a bit tired.” “Of course,” he says lightly, pressing a kiss to her brow, and with no further talk of prettiness they snuff the lights and climb into bed. — One month after the conclusion of the Fifth Blight, Alistair struggles with the mantle of kingship and the distance growing between him and his beloved Cousland.

Story on AO3; snippet below the cut

Snippet

“Your Majesty,” says Siobhan with a gracious dip of the head, as if she has not spent months with him swigging ale by the fireside and rinsing blood from their blades and, for the last and sweetest of those desperate months, tangling her body tight with his in the late sleepless hours of night, “if I may offer a suggestion - White River’s claim is stronger, but the tax on the Waking Sea higher. Perhaps they might both maintain the symbol, but add distinctly colored bordures, making it impossible to confuse in battle while maintaining the historical precedent, and allowing the families to keep what they must of their existing artifacts?” She turns to smile at the two claimants, like the sun spearing through insistently gathered clouds. “I would hate to ask anyone to go at their flagstones with pickaxes, nor do I believe there is enough dye in all of Ferelden to manage three thousand tabards.” The banns glare warily at each other, then back to the royals. “It’s a fair solution,” says Alistair. “Here I was about to suggest one of you put my face on your arms, so I think we can all agree it’s preferable to that.” “You have a charming face, my love,” says Siobhan, and he can see a barely suppressed giggle threatening to bubble up through her noble demeanor. “This is… acceptable,” says de Vendt reluctantly, glancing to the side. “If Waking Sea agrees.” “If we may have the white bordure.” Lady Eremon lifts her chin as if in challenge. De Vendt sighs. “I suppose the river runs as green as blue,” he says wearily. “We will consult the armiger, and make plans for refitting the troops.” “Splendid.” Alistair claps his hands. “Thank you for coming.” The banns bow low, and retreat at the herald’s elbow down the long blue stretch of carpet and out towards the open sun. “You don’t need to thank them,” says Siobhan, leaning in to peck his cheek. “You’re the king.” “Riiight.” He expels a breath. “Say, remind me, dearest - what is the coat of arms for House Cousland?” She gestures to the thin golden circlet nestled in her braided blonde hair. They have not yet been wed, and in place of the ten-ton monstrosity Alistair is forced to wear while holding court she wears a delicate braid of woven laurel, wrought in gold and fine as glass. “The crossed laurels,” she says. “The symbol of victory, and virtue.” “Ah. Right.” Alistair touches the slender crown, his hand falling to cup her face and slide his thumb across the smooth curve of her cheek. Her eyes are a blue so pale they appear gray, like clouds drifting over a shy dawn sky. “Well. You have one of those, at least.” She laughs and shakes her head, loosening his grip, but he can see the faint flush in her cheeks, and considers this a far greater victory than any royal adjudication he has dispensed this day. Their bond is unlike anything Alistair has experienced before, deep as the Drakon and strong as tempered steel, but even steel can go brittle, and in the days since that dark night on the eve of battle he has sensed a newfound strain in her easy smiles. “All right.” He drops his hand reluctantly and bends forward to give Odie a pat. The hound barks his contentment, the tiny nub of his tail waggling in a distinctly unwarlike manner. “Who’s next?”

🔖 Additional Tags

Smut, Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Masturbation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Bath Sex, Horses and Heraldry, King Alistair, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, Sweet Alistair, Awkward Alistair, Touch-Starved Alistair, Roleplay, Humor, Alistair is a Funny Guy, Dark Ritual post-traumatic processing, because fix-it fics are cheaper than therapy, Alistair does unkingly things in the royal bath, twice

[taabakiera]

I will forever be obsessed with the fact that Zevran’s default tactic is to attack the enemy that targets the Warden

[alnat-art]

[dellamortal]

Zevran: Neve, I must admit, I am very impressed by you.

Neve: Mhm. Because I am cunning, resourceful, and devastatingly competent?

Zevran: I was going to say because you are the only one who has not yet fallen for my charm.

Neve: You assume I haven’t.

Zevran: … I like you.