#Dragon Age Bad Posture

[alicentofhightower]

the dragon and the crab

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!celtigar!reader

synopsis: boys seem to catch your eye more, as of late. you wonder if that’s the reason why you’re helping this drunken fool of a prince.

includes: drunk aegon, he’s actually not that bad here. so sorry if this is ooc this is my first time writing a oneshot for him!

WC: 1.5k

a/n: this was written with ty tennant’s aegon in mind because it’s set during laena velaryon’s funeral, but you can envision tgc’s aegon too i don’t really care. i did not proofread this so im sorry for any mistakes, i literally just wrote this on my phone in bed because i miss aegon and im bored. i might write a part 2 idk

-

The first time Aegon sees you, he cannot help but wonder why you take such a liking to Helaena.

Laena Velaryon’s funeral had been an uneventful one. A bore, to be honest, but his mother would smack him if he’d ever voiced that thought aloud. He’d never known the noblewoman well. Honestly, his mind was more preoccupied with the looming thought of his upcoming wedding.

It was tradition for Targaryens to be married to relative. They’d practiced it for hundreds of years, long before the doom of Old Valyria. His mother had always seemed so intent on practicing the customs of her Andal forbears, and Aegon wished she’d been the same for his marriage.

Deep down, he knew why Helaena would be his wife. It was to keep her close to Alicent. If she’d been wed to some fat lord in the Riverlands, or a foolish one from the Reach, it would make no difference; there was no real confirmation that she’d ever be kept safe. His mother would not have another Aemma be made of her only daughter.

“We have nothing in common,” Aegon complained, constantly having to brush his silver waves away from his face. The wind from the beach was relentless.

He stood off to the side next to Aemond, away from where you yourself sat next to the Princess. She seemed to speak in riddles, with the way she mumbled of ‘spools of green and black’, but you did not mind. You could tell she was of a sweet nature.

Helaena handed you another shell to hold, her fingertips tracing the texture of it. “She’s our sister,” interjected Aemond.

Everything about Aegon was improper. The way he could not seem to let go of his cup of wine for even a minute, the way his eyes wandered towards the skittish maids, even down to his posture; hunched and lazy. “You marry her, then,” The elder prince said, his fingers loose around his chalice. If he wasn’t careful, he’d probably drop it, make a fool of himself as he always had.

“I would perform my duty. If mother had only betrothed us.” Aemond did not speak out of genuine desire for his sister, only his yearning to be the firstborn son. To be given the duties of his unwilling brother.

“If only,” He scoffed.

His blue eyes traveled to where you were, listening closely to every word of his weird soon-to-be wife. Aegon did not pay much attention to his Old Valyrian lessons, much less his history, but even he could recognize which house you were from by the dress you wore; ivory and scarlet, the colors of House Celtigar.

Your house was a Valyrian one itself, though far less proud than the one of his own or the Velaryons. You wore a veil of mourning to honor the late Lady Laena, but he could see the earrings you adorned beneath it; crabs, closely resembling your sigil.

You could not hear what the young princes spoke of, but your eyes had averted over to them occasionally, though most of your attention was paid to Aegon. His face was scrunched together as he studied you, trying to figure out why you’d ever willingly be in the company of Helaena. Mayhaps you were just as off-putting as she was.

Blooming into womanhood, you could not help but take notice of boys your age; Aegon himself was quite handsome, though lustful and foolish, and your mother had personally warned you to stay away from him on the way to Driftmark. It only made you want to talk to him more.

Soon enough, Aegon made his way over to another servant, grabbing the pitcher on the platter she held and pouring himself more Arbor gold… away from where you were. You wondered if that’d be the last you saw of him.

-

It wasn’t.

Sleep had escaped you. Taking a stroll outside was far more appealing than tossing and turning in your bed, so you’d wrapped your robe around your nightgown and snuck out of your chambers.

You almost gasped when you saw him. There he was, at the end of the stairs, drunk and hiccuping with his eyes closed. He sat against the stone of the railing, head drooping and hands still grasping his goblet tightly.

“My Prince?”

No response.

Descending down the steps, you poked his hunched shoulder. He did not even start. It took a harsh shake of his forearm to wake him, and Aegon threw his head back when he did, smacking it against the marble behind him.

Aegon’s pale hand flew to cradle the back of his skull. He hissed, features squeezing together as he let out a sharp breath. It reeked of wine, and he appeared to be startled that he hadn’t been smacked yet. “Grandsire?” He asked, eyes still scrunched shut.

���No,” You said softly. “It’s just me, my Prince.”

His eyelids shot open. It took a moment for him to recognize you. “Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be abed?”

Gods, maybe your lady mother was right about avoiding him. He’d already begun to irritate you, and you’d been speaking to him for less than a minute. “Shouldn’t you?”

His head lolled to the side, falling to rest on his shoulder. “What will you do? Tattle on me to my mother? I’ve already been scolded today,” He grumbled, his words slightly slurred.

Really, you should just leave this fool of a prince alone, act like this never happened, and climb back into bed. You won’t. It’s normal for men of his age to indulge in their vices, but some part of you tells you that this is wrong; that he shouldn’t be out here in the cold night, slumped into a mess of his own limbs. You feel bad.

Boldly, you reach forward again, grasping his wrist. “Come on,” You say to Aegon, your tone softer. “I’ll help you back to your chambers.”

“I’m too tired.”

He yelps when you yank him up, stumbling forward, his hands scrambling to grab your shoulders to keep him upright. “You should not treat a Prince so roughly.” Despite his words, Aegon allows you to wrap an arm about his shoulders, guiding him forward.

His eyes are wide as he looks down at you, seemingly trying to figure out why you’d pour this much time into someone you don’t even know. There’s a flush becoming all the more apparent on his face, and unbeknownst to you, it’s not because of the wine.

You’re sure there will be a scandal made out of this. An unmarried young noble-lady taking King Viserys’s firstborn son, drunk, back to his chambers during the hour of the owl? Certainly the maids will begin to whisper false tales of your relationship with the Prince, and your father will reprimand you on the ship back to Claw Isle. He might have you married even sooner to dispel them. You cannot find it in yourself to care.

“This way,” You whisper, walking towards where the innermost hall is, where the royal chambers are. Aegon’s steps are uneven and irregular. If you’d not been holding him, he’d probably have fallen twice already.

He’s even more beautiful under the torchlight. Soft cheekbones and plush lips, he’s the very image of his mother, though he certainly does not act like it. Your lips almost part at the feeling of his nose nudging against your cheek, though you attempt to ignore it.

He’s drunk, you tell yourself. Pay no mind to him.

The knights on patrol raise their brows at the sight of you when you make your way past them. An awkward position you’re in. Both his and your arm are wrapped around the other’s shoulders, and his knees are bent so he can be at the level of your face. He’s not even looking forward to where you’re trying to go, his eyes analyzing the look on your face.

He was so talkative when you woke him. You wonder why he’s gone quiet, but reason it to be that he’s exhausted. “What’s your name, again?” He sputters.

He nods rapidly when you tell him it, as if he’ll remember it on the morrow.

Finally, you make it to his room; even the doors to it are grand and tall, befitting one of his status. Yours are farther away from his, in the corridors practically across the keep. It’ll be a long walk back.

You find you don’t know what to say. “…Well, good night, my Prince,” You say softly, letting go of him to let him stand by himself. He wobbles.

Aegon turns to leave, but whips his head around before his pale hand can grasp the handle of the door, his eyes darting around the features of your face. He wants to remember you, it seems.

“You won’t stay?” He can barely pronounce the words correctly, let alone stand up, choosing to lean on the door behind him to keep his balance. Somehow, it’s both endearing and pathetic.

Your cheeks flush at the mere idea of following him into his bedchamber. What was he thinking?

“No, my Prince. It’s best I leave you be.”

Aegon nods solemnly at that, tongue running over his slightly chapped lips. He bows his head in thought, then raises it again, a peculiar glint in his eye that you cannot decipher.

“….’s Aegon. Just Aegon,” He says, quiet, like it’s a secret only the two of you know.

“Good night, Aegon.”

[myocsfanfictions]

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 7

The morning of her name day, the Queen congratulated her, "Eleven of age today. I wish you all the best."

Ysilla had risen from her seat next to Helaena to bow graciously, "I thank you, your Grace." The Queen smiled at her, a hint of pride in her eyes.

"You've finished the dress," she said, observing the white gown with green embroidery that Ysilla was wearing. The girl had found many new interests as she lived in the Capital. She had often spent time with Queen Alicent and other ladies who came to the castle as guests.

Ysilla had learned how to sow and make her dresses, including her riding attire for when she went flying on Darysyr's back. At five, she would have never thought that creating something of her own would make her feel so proud of herself. But being close to the Queen had introduced her to a more polished and elegant side that she had never thought would have enjoyed. But she did.

"Princess Ysilla is growing to be very fair," she heard Lady Redwine say.

That day, Ysilla and Helaena had to attend the Queen with the ladies. Ysilla had never liked that woman, always looking at her with sufficiency. But that had been the first time she had complimented her. When she was that skinny little girl of five dressed in simple clothes, people's eyes judged her.

The goat's daughter. Her father called her. And for long, she had felt like one.

She wanted to be liked and accepted by the people in the Red Keep. It was important. Alliances, rumors, and opinions were all linked. Bad rumors brought a bad reputation. And bad opinions did not bring good alliances. Or alliances at all.

"Princess Rhaenyra's second son seems healthy, your Grace," Lady Redwine said as Ysilla looked at Helaena's sawing work on her piece of cloth.

"Thank the Seven; both the mother and the child are healthy," Ysilla said, turning her eyes to observe her Queen. She had heard the strange tone of her voice crack, even if she was trying to keep her posture.

Ysilla had heard some whispers in the castle the day Jacaerys had been presented at court. But they had only grown worse when Lucaerys had been born. Both boys were dark-haired and had nothing of their father, Laenor Velaryon, in them.

"People say they are bastards," Aegon told her one day as they sat in his chambers, as they usually did, spending time together after their studies.

Ysilla regarded Aegon, "She could never do it." she said, "Rhaenyra would not cheat on her husband."

Aegon laughed as he lay on the ground. His purple eyes looked up at her, set on the cousins of the furniture. "Why?"

"We've studied politics, Aegon," she said, glaring down at him.

He smiled again, "I like to hear you read."

Ysilla sat up. "Then now listen," she answered. Rhenyra is married. She has a duty toward her husband and her people." Aegon seemed bored, but she kept talking. She was used to his behavior. "An unclear parentage brings an unstable claim to the throne." She explained, "Do you remember what I told you about my father? He would have liked to insinuate that I was a bastard for my dark hair so that he could accuse my mother of such a vile act." Those words tasted bitter on her tongue. She still remembered clearly what her mother had told her so long ago.

"But your pretty hair is streaked with silver, and your eyes are purple like ours." He answered, resting his weight on his elbows, his eyes looking at her. "So no harm done."

Ysilla lowered her eyes sadly, "There are always repercussions."

If she had been a bastard, her father would have disowned Lady Rhea, ruining her reputation. But maybe she could still be alive.

"Ser Criston," she greeted as she walked towards the Queen's chambers.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head respectfully. Ysilla felt like blushing. It happened quite a lot with Ser Criston lately. She had started to notice how beautiful the features of his face were, and that thought always made her blush. She felt a little stupid every time he was the one guarding the chamber.

"Princess Ysilla, your Grace," Ser Cole announced as she entered through the door.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," the Queen answered. The man bowed before exiting. "You are early today," Alicent said, gesturing her to come sit next to her.

"How was your morning, your Grace?"

"The King had trouble with his hand this morning," the Queen explained with a heavy breath. The Maester is tending him."

"I hope his Grace will recover soon," Alicent's lips turned into a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"How was your morning with Aegon?" She asked Ysilla, changing the subject. Ysilla took a breath.

"You know your son," Ysilla answered, "He gets distracted easily."

The woman took a breath. "At least he is less distracted by you. Thank you for keeping an eye on him." Ysilla shook her head.

"No thanks needed," she said sincerely. In six years, she had grown fond of all the cousins. But there was something that Ysilla could not quite understand. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," the Queen answered.

Ysilla took a moment. She didn't want to make a wrong impression after those years in which the Queen seemed to favor her. "You once told me that it was important for Aegon to respect his duty since he was next in line," she noticed Alicent's posture become stiff all of a sudden. But she didn't interrupt her. "Rhaenyra has given birth to two healthy sons. Couldn't Aegon get discharged from all these duties?"

The Queen's face darkened. And for a moment, Ysilla thought that maybe she should have kept quiet. But then, the Queen spoke.

"You are quite observant, Ysilla," she said, their eyes met. Very little slips from your sight. So tell me, when you've seen Rhaenyra's sons, what did you notice?"

Ysilla bit her lips, lowering her gaze. "What should I have noticed?" she did not want to answer. It was another dangerous accusation, the one that she was about to make. And from the look the Queen was giving her, Ysilla knew that she could not avoid answering.

"There's no Laenor in those children," she said truthfully, feeling uneasy about such words. Alicent nodded her head as she listened to her.

"There are many whispers in the castle, and they are spreading." the Queen said, standing up, her hands clenched together as she walked towards the window. "No one believes those children are Laenor's."

Ysilla frowned, "Shouldn't the King do something about it? Didn't he notice?"

"He does, and yet he refuses to see." The irritation in the woman's voice was evident. Ysilla, on the other hand, wondered what it would have been like to have a father who'd have protected her at any cost. She felt envy.

"But this puts all of us in great danger." Ysilla frowned, looking at her Queen with worried eyes. What danger?

"Aegon is a challenge to Rhaenyra." The Queen explained.

"A challenge?" She asked, confused.

The Queen nodded her head. Her hand moved to touch the skin of her neck, and as she did every time, anxiety rose in her.

"When Aegon was born, many believed him to be the rightful heir." Ysilla knew that Rhaenyra had been made Heir to the Iron Throne long before Aegon came to the world. If he had been born years before, surely the king would have named him, like tradition wanted. But the King had changed that tradition.

"He surely had done it to prevent my sweet husband from becoming King," Ysilla still remembered her mother laughing. She kept saying that, and it made her laugh every time, even after years.

"The King didn't change his mind, though," Ysilla said, quite sure she was not mistaken.

"No," Alicent let out a heavy breath. Perhaps no one would have questioned her rights. But now, giving birth to bastards..." The irritation in her voice was evident. Ysilla knew how righteous the Queen was. Duty was the most important matter. It came before anything for her.

"What might happen?" Ysilla didn't like where their conversation was going.

"If her right to the throne were ever challenged, my children would be the first obstacles to overcome."

Ysilla understood now. And a shiver went down her spine. If someone had ever questioned Rhaenyra's claim, since her children were considerate bastards, people would have turned to Aegon. Viserys' firstborn son shared the same name as the Conquerer. So, the only thing that stood between Rhaenyra and the Throne was Aegon. And with him, Aemond, Daeron, and Helaena. They were Targaryens, sons and daughter of the King that now set the Iron Throne. They would have to die.

This thought made her shiver with fear and rage. She had already lost her mother to schemes to gain power. She did not want to lose the people that had now become her family.

But Rhaenyra was family as well.

"This is not meant to happen, though," Ysilla tried to look at the situation from a better perspective.

Alicent looked at her with pained eyes, "I wish not, child. But if it is the worst to come, we all better be ready. That's why Aegon has to learn."

_____________________________________________________________

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[felassan]

Thoughts on the DA:TV Companion Concept Art:

General

I love that we saw these and I think the art is beautiful!! it's so cool seeing different versions of a character, different ideas for a character, and how things translated from concept arts into the character models in the game. I can't waaait to look through the rest of The Art of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, with a fine-toothed comb!!

each character has iconic color palettes and iconic shapes and stuff :)

I feel like there is a lot to examine in these pictures, even with the spoilery text redacted!! 🔍🔍

I'm so extremely curious about what the redacted text says. 👁️

It looks like the geometric patterns drawn behind the characters are slightly different each time?

In the ones where multiple different outfits are shown for the character, do you suppose that these are only discarded concept ideas, or are some similar to some of the alternate outfits for the companions that we can find or upgrade for them in the game?

in some of the pages, there appears to be additional parts of the page blanked out/redacted rather than just the paragraph of text. I wonder if there are small text captions or even additional small drawings in those spaces that also needed to be redacted for spoiler reasons 👁️

In some of the sections below I just described what part of the art I was referring to, in others I popped in images because I was finding it hard to describe what I meant ^^

Also, the associated tweet mentions the BioWare Gear Store-exclusive variant of the artbook. The link in it just takes you to the general Gear Store website landing page at the moment. At the moment, the BioWare Gear Store variant of the artbook is out of stock (it went out of stock really quickly after release). However, CM Violet mentioned in the Discord that "We are planning on another printing [of the Gear Store variant of the art book], but no date yet! I'm sure we'll announce it when we have more news!" [source: the official BioWare Discord]

Bellara

Bellara's page is the only one I think with no name. did her name have to be redacted too bc of a spoilery reason?

I LOVE Bellara's pages. she's just so 🥺 (clenching my fist). some aspects of the design of Bellara's clothes remind me of butterflies or butterfly wings.

Left: the angle of this one reminds me of her party icon art. Center: this one shows a different design concept for her vallaslin. in this one she also has different earrings. in the full version of this drawing, it looks like she is holding some kind of tool in her hand (makes sense considering her Tinker ability), while in her other hand it's a piece of cloth, reminding me of the way mechanics are sometimes drawn holding rags during their work. her posture in the full version of this drawing is like 'You can fit sooo many triangles inside this bad boy [the giant elf head artifact/sculpture]'. hhh. Right: can anyone make out what the text above her bag says? ^^ btw, this bag design is so cute. edit: thankyou to @squidaped-oyt who mentioned in the replies of this post that this looks like it says "Foldable map"! more on that here.

HELLO??, this ancient elven sculpture/artifact thing is extremely 👀. the scale of it compared to Bellara is massive. there are beams of light coming from its eyes and the triangle set in its forehead. the triangular parts are a now-familiar aspect of ancient elven magic-tech and artifacts. the nose bridge reminds me of the design of elven nose bridges circa Dragon Age II - only he has a pointed part on his in addition. the bald head we're all familiar with from ancient elven statues, in-world murals/wall paintings etc. is it just me, or are the teeth also pointy? I wonder what this thing is.. was it just decorative (a head of a giant statue)? (this kind of thing in this Veil Jumper/Arlathan Forest concept art comes to mind). was it an art piece representative of a particular Evanuris or one of their chosen? or did it have some kind of actual function - maybe it was part of a giant protective automaton kinda thing? what this head really reminds me of is Codex Entry: Vir Dirthara: Signs of Victory -

The pages of this book—memory?—describe a monument made in a single afternoon by a thousand-thousand toiling servants swarming over a lump of fallen stone as large as a collapsed mountain. By the end of the day, the stern figure of Elgar'nan stares down into a valley, carved out from the foothills of the rock. The slaves have disappeared. Light radiates from the eidolon's narrowed eyes and its open, snarling mouth. "Hail Elgar'nan, first among the gods! Mark his victory eternal!"

Could this be [part of] one of those sorts of monuments/eidolons? It sure looks like it's snarling through its open mouth. And it has narrowed eyes and light is radiating from them.

The other things it reminds me of are: 1. the ancient elven sentinels (the magic-bot kind, not the Abelas and crew in Temple of Mythal kind), two. like maybe it's a giant one of these. 2. these big ancient elven hands and the Dead Hand landmark (see Trivia section) in DA:I, which is found in the Dales and contains an elven shrine and is not far from Ghilan'nain’s Grove.

Horace Medford wrote of that landmark,

"The great stone hand was something of a mystery. One assumes it is a piece broken off from a larger whole. If so, judging by the size of that one hand, I imagine the entire sculpture to be... well, large enough to require the use of obscenities to describe it. Thus I have only one question: where is the rest of the statue? It is difficult to imagine how something so large could go missing."

like maybe the head from Bellara's concept is the giant head to a similar kind of pair of giant hands (of either type).

(^ post which discusses these both here)

Left: the way this bracelet thing is worn gives it the impression of a watch, which is cool and fits her machinist/inventor kinda vibe/aesthetic :) Center: the cloth, a bit dirty from active use (what a thoughtful touch), tucked into her belt :) Right: I love the eyepiece/monocle look!! It's giving Artificer, it's giving gadgets. does anyone else think Bellara and Dagna would get on super well? 💜

These are all super interesting and I love that they were thinking about the different parts of Bellara's kit and belongings like this. in the top row, it looks like the book on the left is the closed version of the book on the right. Bellara's book full of research notes :D what I wouldn't give to browse through it!! I love how she's filled it with different bookmarks, it gives you an insight into her mind and the way it works. on the front is one of those ancient elven golden faces (like on Solas' armor's knees in Trespasser, on the Sentinels in the Temple of Mythal, on the ancient elven Deluxe edition of DA:TV armors, etc). inside, it looks like she has pressed a flower, which is so lovely. on the right-hand page, I'm really curious about the drawings there. what is it of? a map, a diagram? it reminds me a bit of the map of Arlathan Forest in the Veil Jumper issue of Dragon Age: The Missing (and it would make sense for her to have a map, Arlathan Forest is changeable lately). and if you squint, maybe that's an 'X marks the spot'? also extremely curious is the drawing on the left-hand side of the page:

Who is this depicting? the figure's headshape/headpiece/mask reminds me a lot of the Evanuris headshapes. and the general vibe of the drawing reminds me of the ancient elven Evanuris mosaics (example). Sylaise-y? but maybe it's not an Evanuris and it's more like a figure from Bellara's past? the way the flower is pressed on this page makes it look tender, like memory. or if it was an Evanuris, it makes it look like an offering or token. perhaps Bellara's vallaslin correspond to Sylaise or whichever member it is. there was a time before the gods came back the way they did in DA:TV.

It's also really cool to get a look at the fold-out material thing. do you think she usually carries this rolled up at her belt or in her bag? it looks like somewhere where she stores various kinds of ancient elven triangle fragments, or maybe it's even some kind of strange map. A map of a bunch of different reality-fragmented Veil Bubbles or something would look really strange no doubt, not like a normal map.. edit: more on that here.

Davrin

It's neat to see different hairstyle versions of Davrin! the shape of the blue sword reminds me just a lil of Starfang, which is really nice. and we saw Davrin with a griffon-wing shield like there is in these concepts in the character reveal trailer.

Comparisons of the various vallaslin designs he has in his concept arts to the final one in the game. (in some of the concepts, his vallaslin look a bit bluer, which reminds me of his tarot-style art from the party selection screen). though, in the right-most version, it looks more kind of like a circlet, a Samara Mass Effect-type situation instead :)

This on his heel is totally a spur. makes sense, for a Warden that may one day be a griffon-rider like the Grey Wardens of old :') (at least in the sense of visual language, like "spur - riding - horse - griffon").

We see Davrin equipped with an additional dagger/shortsword like this in the warrior gameplay video, albeit not this specific one, if you go by the handles.

He maybe has some stubble here. ^^

In this version of Davrin, it looks like he has a staff. (though, he still has a sword here too). Is it a polearm kinda deal, or was there a time during development when Davrin was a mage? perhaps the elf in this concept art is a version of Davrin? that elf is wielding a staff to fight, and there are some similar aspects in the outfit designs, like the considerable collar.

interestingly, his staff here reminded me of the staff held by the elven figure on the front of the DA Vinyl art. 🤔

^ Looking at that staff-Davrin concept more generally, it's interesting that this version has more overtly Grey Wardenny-parts to his armor compared to his final look, like the griffon symbol on the chestplate and shoulder.

This Davrin holds out his arm, like a falconer. in Dalish culture, the hawk is a sacred animal of the Huntress Andruil.

And this Davrin straight up is a falconer. how cool!! due to image resolution I'm not sure if the darker parts on the raptor are parts of its plumage or accoutrements, but in falconry, the birds sometimes do wear these types of accoutrements. Falconer Davrin Concept reminds me of that one DA:I Dorian concept art where Dorian had a monkey haha. :D the attention to detail in Falconer Davrin is neat too, you can see that on the hawk-perch arm he has a thick extra cover on his arm, due to the sharpness of raptor talons and grip. I really love Falconer Davrin's griffon shoulderplate, and when looking at the more geometric diamond design of his vallaslin here, what struck me was its resemblance to the diamond geometric pattern behind him.

Harding

Harding is the only one on the concept art among the named characters there who is listed as her surname rather than her given name haha. she's just Harding just like Hawke is Hawke, that's just the way it is.

The flower and leaf pattern in the top left is cute, I wonder if it was inspiration for the flower and leaf stitching Harding has on the collar of her casual clothes in the game. In the concept art it looks like the kind of design that you might have on the leatherwork on the front cover of a beautiful leatherbound journal or something. :) In the central picture she's holding and appreciating a blue flower, which is so cute ♡ and which ties to what was said about her loving plants, raising plants, and nature. she has what looks like the Inquisition hairy eyeball symbol on her belt pouch as well as on her knee pads. (;;) the version of her to the left of that shows her with her hair down, in a more pony-tail like sort of style. on that version of her, you can see flower and leaf floral patterns curling up the bottom of her cape. (very pretty).

To the right of the central image, there's a big diagonal blank rectangle of content which has been removed, presumably due to spoiler reasons. Was this also text? It seems like a weird angle to have placed text at. Maybe it's a drawing of an object of some kind being hidden? A different version of her bow perhaps? (this is the case in a few of the companion concept arts btw.)

The tailored coat and pinstripe pants version of her is so cool. :D look at the tails on the back of her coat in that image. dapper. Harding formal wear? :D

of course, the two most !! images from Harding's one are these ones. copying over my thoughts from that post,

Presumably this is to do with Harding’s new magical stoney earthy powers. (In the second image, along with the bow, it looks like half her face, part of her neck and her arm itself is also stone/crystal). The glass-like shiny parts reminds me of quartz or something. :)

I do wonder if (if they are still things in the game) perhaps those two images or the stoney parts of them could also potentially have done with being redacted for spoiler reasons? how I wish the Harding image was higher resolution so we could take a closer look at stone-Harding..! somewhere off in the distance, Varric "haha, you'd be Harding in Hightown" Tethras is like "haha, Harding, you're hard/hardening" hhhh. 💀

In the image with her hood up, the blue veins on the bow remind me of blue lyrium veins. I also wonder, is she holding the stone/crystal bow with her stone/crystal arm, or is the bow simply growing from the arm? does the hard surface of her body when it's like this repel or take less damage owing to its hardness? is this something she might be able to do in gameplay later on as her story (and powers) progress?

it stands to reason that if you can turn other people/things to stone, as she did to some ghouls in the release date reveal trailer, you might also be able to extend this power to yourself. presumably this ability is tied to the Titans, the dwarves as their children, the Stone, maybe a restored (in Harding's case) connection to that, the way dwarves used to be. it also reminds me of how golems are created using live dwarves. Caridin said "It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier." 👀

Btw, speaking of Harding's magical powers, I wonder if Harding dreams at night now..?

Lucanis

it looks like there's a spot on Lucanis' page other than the text at the top that is blanked out/redacted. I wonder what it contained.

part of the geometric designs behind him reminds me of his eyes motif.

some of the alternate outfits for him look really like, majestic. in the one with the manbun, he has big poufy shoulder pieces and huge sleeves.

I wonder if any concept art of clean-shaven Lucanis exists anywhere? ^^ I'm really curious about what he looks like clean-shaven, or without a beard as he was in The Wigmaker Job.

I'm losing my mind at all the different concept ideas for Lucanis' hair, especially the one with the curled forelock and LUCANIS MANBUN omg. but I like his feathery mullet that he has in the game the best. :D

The design and coloring of his sword is just so COOL. The oil-like iridescence, purple-black, is like corvid feathers.

What a lovely sketch, lovely pencilwork. ◕‿◕ his eyebrow is slightly raised and you can see here again that his nose is slightly 'crooked' (perhaps he's broken it in the past?). I love this sort of feature sm in every character that has it.

In this one his eyes are doing the glowing purple thing again. again he is not defeating the possessed/dead/abomination/-somethingelserelatedorsimilar-is-going-on with him allegations. this one has a hood in an Assassin's Creed sorta style and the general vibe is like a ninja. the shoulder pieces look feathery, and the cloak/coat looks like feathered wings or tailfeathers. this piece feels the most "The Demon of Vyrantium" in vibe hh 👁️ And are you guys seeing this?? Here it looks like has claws like Wolverine hh!! :D though he could simply also be holding multiple knives in between his fingers (of the sort you can see at his belt in another concept, I've put that one just below here to show them), or have a bladed gauntlet, etc.

This person coming at you in the night, no wonder the evil Venatori magisters are scared of him :)

Coffee, no doubt :) cool mug shape.

Bird design again on this leg-piece.

Left: a take on the now-iconic Antivan Crow bird-masks. really cool design. here it's giving Batman, it's giving masquerade ball. I really hope we see him wearing a Crow bird mask of this sort at some point during the game!! 🧎🕯️🧎 it's a big missed opportunity if not imo hh. Right: Lighthouse casual-wear, or something very close to it. his vibe in this art is also similar to his vibe in the Lighthouse group shot.

Veilguard symbol on his chest? some of the alternate outfits include a more Veilguardy purple to them, and this one reminds me of how the Veilguard symbol looks for Rook here for example.

Lastly, in this main one, his general shape is sooo triangular. :D and his face/expression here really captures this description of him from Tevinter Nights:

Lucanis stared ahead, focused and intense. He was the kind of man you couldn’t look away from—until he looked at you.

In this one I also get the sense of dark circles under his eyes, which is a trait that in fiction reminds me of coffee-drinkers. ^^

Emmrich

Both staffs in Emmrich's concept art are different to the one we see him with here, but the bigger one on the concept art is close to it.

In this concept it looks like Emmrich has a scar on his chin.

Left: without his jacket on, he looks so svelte. the gold parts on his boots/knees remind me of the gold headpieces fixed to walking dead in the Necropolis. they are also hexagonal in shape, which I've become convinced is part of Nevarra's visual design language (and therefore part of Nevarran architecture, fashion/culture etc. :D he has so many bracelets and rings. Center: he looks so happy here and in the one next to it! these versions of Emmrich seem to lean more to the purple side of his color palette. these ones have a sorta futuristic vibe. you can see some of the tools of his trade at his belt, and it's a different version of his staff. here the skull floats at the top of the staff and burns with green fire, rather than being fixed to the pole of the staff. Right: Emmrich with big hair! quiff-like, and it looks like a large part of it is white rather than gray.

in this alternate outfit he's wearing a work apron with tools of his trade on the front. he's holding a glass flask that is filled with green liquid and billowing green smoke. I wonder if Emmrich is skilled at alchemy? do you think he has a lab, or that his room in the Lighthouse might be filled with stuff like alembics?

Looking again at Emmrich's outfit in these arts - from the back, the back of his coat reminds me of depictions in art and tv/film of the blood eagle?? (if you are sensitive or squeamish to gore and things of that nature, please don't google that!). the lines on the back of his shoulders remind me of musculature. The repeating pieces down the center of the bottom part of his coat reminds me of a spine. and the back of his gold belt-piece from behind straight up looks like a pelvis. the skeleton and body imagery here is an amazing art direction/symbolism for him!! what a bigbrain idea. is that sort of detailing why the design of the front of his coat looks like someone's chest has been opened on an operating table?

also, the long coat reminds me of labcoats. :)

I wonder if the bracelets and things are a Nevarran cultural thing/common fashion in Nevarra, or more of just an Emmrich thing? ^^

lastly his expression in the one on the right is so gentle and kind.

Neve

There are two spots on Neve's page other than the text at the top that are blanked out/redacted. I wonder what they contained.

I love that they tried out differing concept/designs for the look of Neve's leg, and what looks like a stand for it as well. they're all really neat and you can see serpentine aspects in all of them. a person could also have more than one.

this image contains another great reference for Neve's wand-cane thing. here the orb in the middle looks like a big pearl, like from inside a mollusk. the ring around it is definitely evoking the body of a snake coiling.

The concept art contains a blond version of Neve. because of her ice powers, it reminds me a bit of Emma Frost (Marvel). look at that Neve's heeled boot, and the size of her hat!!

I prefer the Neve they decided to go with in the end. ♡♡ ^^

Taash

oh my goooood. breathing in and out rapidly into a paper bag. oh my godd. she looks sooo cool!! I'm posting the whole thing again here just bc omggg.

Most versions of Taash have the green crystal horn. her concept arts show versions with different skin colors. her eyes in some of them look green. I love all her different-version Lord of Fortune / Rivaini gold pieces. in the top-left hand version of her, her bigger shoulder-piece is really cool (the right-hand side one); it could at once be a piece of spiky dragon bone or a piece of a big spiky sea-shell (both ideas work perfectly for her character and background). I've said this before when talking about Taash's design, but I love the parrot-break design of one of her weapons. it's very piratey. in this page, we can see several different versions of the parrot-beak weapon. also, I love all her different facial expressions.

in the right-most Taash concept, the dragon tooth-like pointy bits on her gauntlets look like they're made out of gold, not tooth. her big piratey boots are so cool and they even have a gold coin on them! you can see the spike braided into the end of her ponytail, and in that drawing the dragonscale-looking parts of her iconic armor look even more scaley, owing to the way they graduate from a full covering of scales to a partial covering to not present (in a way that reminds of how on some fantasy arts of things like dragons, there can be softer/less protected areas of their hide with no or less scales, like towards their undersides):

The bottom-left most illustration looks like it might be her iconic armor, only seen from the back, which is good to have a reference of. the design of her sword scabbard is cool, it's like the segmented flat of a dragon or sea-serpent's tail. in that image it also looks like the eye of her parrot-weapon is matched by an eye on the scabbard. something about the designs of her sword and scabbard remind me of weapons like daos. from behind, it also looks like her gauntlets might have thicker armor on one-side, better protection for the upper side of her forearms. the fingers of her gauntlets also look taloned, in a way that reminds me of Fenris.

Okay now let's talk about the concept in the center at the top! this version has longer horns and more spikes in her ponytail, in fact the ponytail here looks like a dragon tail as a result. it reminds me of Flemeth's dragony hair from Dragon Age II onwards. this version also looks like she may have blue-ish facial tattoos, or it could be vitaar. it also looks like she may have a second, smaller set of horns. in this version, the red ropes are cyan-blue instead, and she not only has the spikes/teeth on her gauntlets, but also on her boots (knee 'pad' and the heel, like spurs). in this version, her swords are dragon wing-shaped, which is pretty metal. I can't tell if the triangular piece that hangs down in the center is from the front piece of her clothing or the back piece, but it gives the impression of a dragon tail.

Lastly, the concept in the center at the bottom: here her boots remind me a lot of Dragon Age II Isabela, who is of course, also a piratey type of character from Rivain. the giant axe here is cool, the shape of its blade also evokes the shape of a dragon wing and it looks like the handle might be made of bone. the way she's carrying the axe here reminds me a bit of how Iron Bull carries his weapon in this art piece. the teal and gold color scheme of this piece reminds me of the gold and blue/green of some Ancient Egyptian things, and round her neck it looks like she is wearing a torc.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Prologue - The Ritual

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: This is literally just the prologue of the game. Not every chapter will be written word for word like this but it sets the scene. I do not claim the rights to any of this story or the characters.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Fighting, demons, ancient rituals, gods in this suck, near-death experience, it should go without saying that there are major spoilers in this series

A/N: Things will get more creative in the next chapter, I just wanted to get this one out and on paper, trying to get the voice for Kalais (Rook) down. The gif is mine, and it's Kalais

Veilguard Masterlist Chapter 1

Rain poured in the streets of Minrathous. My home city, constantly fighting for dominance against the Venatori cultists and Magister slavers. Unfortunately, this was no longer work for the Shadow Dragons. I was here for another reason now. Varric needed me for this—he was waiting outside as backup in case this went sideways. I was good at handling Venatori at the worst of times, this should hopefully go off without a hitch.

Sadly, we were off to a bad start.

I dusted my hands off after throwing one of the cultists out on his ass. “Let’s try this again,” I said. “Where’s Neve Gallus?” I made my way back toward the woman on the bar, her posture arrogant and defiant. Four other cultists surrounded me, and I forced myself to relax.

“You think you can come into my bar and make demands?”

“It’s not a demand, it's… an offer,” I stepped forward, holding my palms up and out, calming the circling Venatori. “Telling me what I need to know, it’s… it’s the smart play here.”

The cultists closed in around me, but the bartender motioned me forward with a curl of her fingers. “How do you figure, sweet talker?”

“Neve Gallus is my only shot at finding the Dread Wolf. I need to know where she is,” I said as I approached. “We were supposed to meet here, in your bar, but you let Venatori cultists drag her away.”

She set down her drink, crossing one leg over the other. “I didn’t ‘let them’. They paid me.”

“So answer my questions, and walk away with the coin. Or spend it cleaning up the place when I’m through,” I turned, gesturing to the gathered Venatori. “Your choice.”

“You’re adorable,” she said, sliding down off the bar. “Dumat Plaza. That’s where you’ll find Neve Gallus.”

She motioned over her shoulder for the cultists and began to walk away. “Thank you,” I called after her.

She turned over her shoulder. “You want to get yourself killed fighting the Venatori, it’s your ass.” Just one of the cultists followed her.

The remaining three gathered in front of me. “That offer’s good for all of you, too,” I said. “No?”

“If they won’t listen to you…” I heard Varric before I saw him. “They can always listen to Bianca.” He stood in the doorway, Bianca tucked safely in his arms as he cocked her. Without a second thought, six arrows fired from the crossbow, nearly impaling the cultists’ feet.

They scattered, keeping their eyes on him warily as they retreated. I smiled at him as he came in. “Your friend Neve Gallus is at Dumat Plaza.”

Varric swiped a mug off a nearby table. “I heard. That’s why you’re my second-in-command.” He came up beside me, leaning against the bar. “Although for the record, you might be too charming for your own good.”

“See, you say that… But we do have Neve’s location now, so…” I took a swig of whatever was in the mug on the bar, grinning.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said into his drink.

I just laughed. “Come on. Harding will be worried.”

He huffed, giving me a look that said ‘I’m way too tired and way too sober for this’. “All right. Break’s over.” He downed the rest of the mug, sitting it with a heavy thump on the wood of the bar. 

I glanced around warily as we left. “I hope Neve’s as good at finding people as you claim.”

“She’s the best damn detective I’ve ever met. If she says she’s got a lead on Solas, I believe her.” We exited, and I saw the massive circular monstrosity in the sky, beaming lights down on the people. The Archon’s Palace. Another difficulty in Minrathous.

We headed down the stairs, going slow so as to not look conspicuous. “Do you still think you can talk him down?”

“That ritual is going to tear down the Veil. The only thing separating us from the Fade and an endless number of demons. I have to talk him down.”

We rounded a corner and ducked behind it as the light from the Archon beamed down at a group of girls. Most of them ran screaming, the one with ginger hair cowered. The voice from the palace boomed across the sky. 

“You there! Halt!”

“Wait!” She said, putting her hands up. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Get down!” Varric said to me in a hushed tone as we ducked behind a makeshift wall.

“Are they after us? Is it because of the bar?” I asked hurriedly.

“Word travels fast in Minrathous.”

“We’ve gotta help her,” I said as she fell to her knees, head bowed and hands up in surrender.

Varric caught me with his arm around my hips as I tried to step forward. “We don’t have time to get arrested, especially if—”

She was gone within the blink of an eye. We stepped out as a greater disruption shook the night sky.

“Ah crap,” Varric said as we watched the Veil ripple above the Archon’s Palace.

“We’re too late!”

“The ritual’s started. But if we hurry, we can still stop Solas before it finishes. Let’s go,” he said, taking off. 

I had to hand it to him, for someone with such short legs, the guy could run. I followed after him, minding my step as rage demons took to the streets, snatching people up left and right. They left ash prints on the cobblestone and the scent of smoke in their wake. I watched as the Palace shot down a pride demon that had broken a bridge in front of us.

Varric grabbed my wrist and veered me to the left, taking a side route to get to Harding. We jumped a wooden barricade, seeing a despair demon with an arrow through—what I assumed was—its face.

As it fell to the ground, I saw Harding behind it, lowering her bow. Two people huddled behind her, clinging to each other in fear. “You’re safe now,” she said. “Get inside and bar the doors, quick as you can, okay?”

“Harding, you okay?” Varric asked.

“Been doing what I can to help,” she replied. “The ritual must be weakening the Veil. There are a lot of scared people out here.”

“And a lot of demons. Haven’t seen this many come through the Fade in years,” Varric said.

I made a connection to what he had told me about his time with the Inquisition and the Fade Rifts that he’d helped the Inquisitor take down along with all of the demons that crawled through.

I moved to pick up my gear that Harding had. 

“Where’s Neve Gallus, wasn’t she at the meeting point?”

“The Venatori got to her first,” I said with a scowl. “They grabbed her before we arrived and paid off the bar owner to keep it quiet.”

“I’m not surprised our detective did something to piss off a cult of murderous blood mages, but their timing stinks.” I huffed a laugh. If I was remembering right, we had done some parallel work with the Shadow Dragons. Our entire group ran on pissing off the murderous blood mages. “The bar owner said the Venatori took Neve to Dumat Plaza. Can you get us there, Harding?”

“Rook, you’re with the Shadow Dragons. I figured you’d know Minrathous better than I do,” she said.

“Some parts of it, sure, but this city is huge, and this is nowhere near where I came from. I can try…” I told her.

“Don’t worry. Scouting’s my specialty, follow me.”

—----------------------

Venatori swarmed us as soon as we reached the Plaza. With my orb of fire in one hand and my dagger in the other, along with Harding and Bianca aiding me, it was a fairly quick fight.

An icy blue barrier surrounded the Plaza. As I approached it, it fell away. I saw a tan skinned mage standing in the center of it, three frozen Venatori around her. She smiled. “Varric, Harding. Not the worst timing.”

“Neve!” Harding said. “It’s so good to see you. We thought the Venatori had kidnapped you.”

“They thought the same thing,” she said. “A lot of Venatori in this city have reason to hate me. Figured I’d play along, find out who wanted to settle the score this time. Then the sky started raining demons. So I’m back on the job.” She spoke as we walked through Minrathous. The city was more in chaos than I’d seen it in a very long time.

“Appreciate it. Rook, this is Neve Gallus, our local expert. She’s gonna help us find Solas. Neve, meet Rook. Both of you have done some work for the Shadow Dragons.”

“Isn’t that a coincidence?” She smirked over her shoulder.

“Some old friends said if I was working in Tevinter, the Shadow Dragons are worth trusting,” Varric said, bumping my hip with the back of his hand, grinning up at me.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, walking up the stairs behind them. “Based on the Venatori, you’ve got an excellent taste in enemies.”

“I do my best.”

“You said you had a lead?” Harding asked. The ground shook, and I widened my stance to brace against it.

“I haven’t seen Solas in person, but I did find hints of old magic. Similar to what you get in elven ruins. I traced it to a building beneath Our Lady of Victory. That’s where your man is hiding.” She pointed out the old Tevinter statue.

“Then let’s go—before this ritual he’s doing gets any worse,” Varric said.

“Worse? This ritual is already drawing more power than I’d expect from a dozen mages. You told me he was working alone,” Neve said skeptically.

“I also told you he was an ancient elven god,” Varric shot back.

“An elven god. Well, whatever he is, he’s causing trouble in my city. Let’s go,” she said.

“So, when we do catch Solas, or the Dread Wolf, or whatever he calls himself—what’s the plan?” I asked.

“He wants to bring down the Veil. Hopefully that ritual takes his full attention,” Varric told me.

“So we catch him while he’s doing his ritual so he can’t fight us?”

“That’s the hope,” he said. “If it comes to a straight up fight, we’re dead.”

“That’s reassuring,” I shot him a glance and all he did was shrug.

—------------------------------------

“So this is the Dread Wolf’s hideout,” I said, looking around.

“One of them at least, not sure how long he’s been here,” Varric said.

I spun in a circle, looking around at the multiple drawings on the walls, miniature murals everywhere. “Some of this looks ancient,” I said.

“Solas has been around longer than Minrathous itself.”

We made our way through the tunnels, coming to a broken wall. I crouched down, seeing shackles and buckets on a small table. “Broken chains. Solas was freeing slaves,” I observed.

“Solas hates slavery. One of the few things we actually agreed on,” Varric told me. He had a knowing look on his face, and I understood the conflict he must be feeling now. To stop an old friend like this and knowing it could go sideways.

We came to a balcony high above a room. “What do you see?” He asked.

“Some kind of glowing window or mirror or something,” I told him.

“Well, that sounds ominous.”

We went around a bend and down some broken rocks, but when we stepped through it was a room with the door, not the room with the ominous glowing thing we wanted. Unluckily for us, several demons decided to pay us a visit. It didn’t take much to bring them down, their connection to this world was strenuous at best.

I moved up a couple ledges to unlock the door. “Solas, Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf… He’s got a lot of names.”

“I always called him Chuckles,” Varric said with a sly grin. I rolled my eyes, pulling the lever before dropping down deftly.

I gotta tell you something, ancient Elven ruins are really fucking cool. Old statues with lit lanterns that should’ve burned out centuries ago. The architecture was crumbling but still remarkably well put together. 

We passed through a corridor, then through a more ruined part of the sanctuary. I looked up, seeing the window-mirror-thing from earlier. It was much bigger than it had seemed from so far.

“This the glowing window you saw earlier, Rook?” Neve asked.

Now that we were closer, I studied it. “It’s called an Eluvian. They’re elven, and very old. I’m surprised this one works, though I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

“It acts like a doorway from one place to another. Solas uses them to get around quickly,” Varric said.

“So, I guess we’re going through it?” I looked back at them.

“Don’t look at us, kid, you’re in front,” Varric grinned.

I sighed, taking a step through it. It was cold, then very hot, before finally balancing out. My head spun a bit as I took a step that lasted a thousand miles before it planted firmly on the other side, somewhere.

I looked around. We’re definitely not in Minrathous anymore. The trees towered, all different colors. Ahead up in the sky, an ancient ruin portraying seven statues in a circle encased the ritual Solas was performing.

We sprinted through the rain and through the tremors in the earth, slicing through demons as we went. We were only stopped when a Pride demon dropped from the sky.

“A pride demon,” Varric said. “It probably sensed Solas’s ego.” 

I laughed as my dagger slid through its lightning to cut its head off. There was something to be said about Varric. Even in the worst of times, in the worst of stakes, he was funny and he tried to make people laugh.

I scrambled up the ledge of some rocks, holding down a hand for Varric. He grasped my hand, pulling himself up. We ducked behind a wall, Solas mere feet away now.

“All right. I’ll take it from here,” Varric said.

“Are you sure?” Neve asked.

“Positive. You three just keep the demons off me while I talk to him.” He put Bianca over his shoulder on the strap to hold her on his back.

“Varric, Solas isn’t going to stop just because an old friend asks nicely,” Harding said.

“Solas needs someone to sell him another option, to help him justify changing his mind,” he replied.

“We’ve got your back. If anyone can get through to him, you can,” I put a hand on his shoulder. I didn’t know Solas, but I knew Varric, and I trusted what he knew about his friend. That was all we could do.

“Thanks, Rook. Whatever else he is, he’s my friend,” he said. “And if he won’t listen to me… then he’ll hear from Bianca.” A pillar fell in front of Harding and Neve. Demons sprung up on the other side. “Take care of the team for me,” he said, looking up at me with a smile.

I didn’t like the way he said it. Like it was a goodbye. Like I would have to take over. Like something was going to happen.

My orb floated above my hand, flickering in the rain, illuminating my fingers. I kept a firm grip on my dagger as the demons swarmed us. Whatever magic was at work amplified Varric’s voice when he got to Solas.

“Hey, Chuckles. Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, in that lighthearted tone he always held.

“The Veil is a wound inflicted upon this world. It must be healed.” Solas gripped his blue dagger in both hands, turning to continue his work.

“By drowning the world in demons?” Varric questioned.

“I have taken precautions to minimize the damage, Varric.”

“Minimize the… People are dying right now!” Varric yelled. He reached for his crossbow, aiming her at Solas with emphasis. “You need to listen.” Solas turned back to glare at him as Bianca’s wings shot out. “Please,” he begged.

Solas’s lip curled, and his eyes glowed blue. A burst of power snapped Bianca in half, also throwing her out of Varric’s arms. He looked back with shock and pain in his expression, and I frowned.

“People are always dying,” Solas snarled. “It is what they do.” Solas thrust his blade into the sky once again to continue his enchantments.

“Shit! We need a better plan,” I said to our group.

“Do you want me to take the shot?” Harding asked, drawing her bow.

“Won’t work. He’s too powerful,” Neve told her.

“What if we disrupt the ritual?” I asked, putting a hand up to block excess light from the tear in the sky.

“How?” Harding asked.

My eyes darted around the structure. “See those statues?” I asked. “If we break the scaffolding holding that one up, the whole thing’ll come down on Solas.”

“It’s risky. Interrupting a ritual of this scale will have consequences,” Neve said.

“And what about the demons? Varric needs us to hold them off,” Harding replied.

“Right. Harding with me, Neve take care of the demons. One way or another this thing is going to end, and it’s going to end now,” I said.

Neve frowned, but she nodded, and Harding followed behind me. Things were falling down around us. I dodged and ducked through the debris, making sure not to lose my footing on loose planks. Now that we were in the storm, I couldn’t hear Varric and Solas anymore. Everything was too loud, including the magic rushing through my ears, and the wind whipped my hair in my face.

I kicked at the scaffolding holding the statue up, knocking boards loose. There was a break in the magic, and I heard Varric again. 

“Why? Why tear down the Veil knowing all the lives it’ll cost?” 

“We shared a journey years ago. Do you believe that I would do this if there were some other, better option?”

“It’s not falling,” I said in a mild panic. “We need to push it!” I braced myself against the large wooden beam holding everything together. Harding was at my side, braced right there with me. “Together. Now!”

“You came a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric, but this story does not end with my downfall,” Solas said.

The board fell, and I watched almost in slow motion as the statue began to fall into the one beside it. Then the next, and the next. I ran while I had the chance. The last one fell toward Solas, and he put his hands up, raw power floating off him as he pushed it off of him and it broke into millions of pieces. 

The impact of those broken jagged rocks caused the ground to shake. I lost my footing, falling into the rail of the boardwalk I was on. I had to trust that Harding was behind me as we ran. I watched as Solas thrust his dagger into the sky once more, determined that no one and nothing would disrupt his ritual. 

I couldn’t afford to focus on anything but myself in this moment. But I rounded the corner of the stairs, and I saw Varric’s body tumbling to the ground, the dagger stuck in his chest, and I screamed.

“Varric!” I pushed my legs that much farther, sliding to my knees next to him on the ground. Whatever the dagger was made of it looked like it was sucking away his life force with every second that passed. “No, no, no… No…” I pulled it out of his chest and tossed it to the side, putting my hands over the wound. “Varric…” I felt tears building in my eyes as I tried to put pressure on it.

I looked up and there was a blast of power, throwing me back. I hit the stone behind me painfully, my spine nearly cracking from the force of it before I fell to the ground. My vision went fuzzy, and I rolled, trying to regain my bearings. I felt a pair of hands guiding me.

I stood shakily, looking back to see Neve getting Varric, and I felt the tears streaming down my face. Time blurred in and out, and somehow we made it back to the Eluvian.

I put a hand to the back of my head. When I pulled it down, bright red blood covered my palm and fingers, and then the world went dark.

—-----------------------------

“You have no idea what you have done.”

When I came to, the world was still dark. But not in the completely-unconscious way, more in the dark-creepy-unsaturated way. Like a bad dream.

“Solas?” I looked around. The ground was broken into pieces and floating around the sky. I spun, sensing a presence behind me. “I know what I did. I stopped you from destroying the world.”

“I was not destroying the world!” The ground between us separated, and my arms swung as I tried to keep my balance. “When you disrupted my ritual, the magical energies pulled me here, into the Fade.”

That explained the pallor of the environment.

“Okay… so that’s why you’re here. But why am I here?”

“Your physical body is unconscious, but you shed a few drops of blood at the ritual site, enough for a tenuous connection,” he said.

“Blood magic?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“Firstly, I abhor the use of blood magic. Secondly, had I the power to control you, I would already have used it.”

I stepped forward. “All right. You brought me here to talk. What are we talking about?” I questioned.

“The Evanuris. Or as you would call them, the “elven gods”. The creatures that escaped. In ancient times, they ruled the elves, but that was not enough. They sought not just to by obeyed, but to be worshiped. When I rebelled, they drew on the horrific magic of the blight, corrupting all they saw until I trapped them.” We walked parallel along the ravine. “Thanks to you, though, I am now trapped, and the blighted “elven gods” walk free.”

“Right. You were innocently doing nothing when we came along,” I said sarcastically.

“The prison in which I had trapped them had begun to crumble. I was moving them to another—”

“So you weren’t tearing down the Veil and drowning the world in demons and wild magic?”

He stared down at me. “I had a plan.”

“Varric always said you’d have a big explanation for why none of this was your fault.”

“Varric,” his brows drew together in an expression that could only be described as regret.

“Yeah. He said that’s your style. Never quite lies, clever half-truths that let you convince yourself you’re doing the right thing. He tried to talk to you anyway… and now he’s hurt.”

“Varric is… quite practiced at shading the truth himself.”

“Not to hurt people. Never to hurt people,” I glowered at him. “So, those things that got out. You said they were gods?” The ground beneath me dropped a level, and my hands shot out, trying to regain my footing. He was several meters higher than me now, looking down his nose at me. Gods, this fucking guy. How did Varric put up with him?

“They said they were gods. Blighted, tyrannical, sadistic gods,” he spat. “It took all my power to imprison them millennia ago. But I am certain you will be fine.”

“That’s really helpful. What are you, the elven god of sarcasm?”

“Lies, treachery, and rebellion, depending upon the story. And how could I help? I do not have my ritual dagger. I cannot access my network of mirrors to travel from the Lighthouse to anywhere in the world. All I can offer is what I know.”

“Helpful advice from the elven god of, and I am quoting you here, “lies, treachery, and rebellion”.”

“Depending upon the story,” he replied. “Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are your problem to solve. This is your responsibility now.”

His words rang in my mind as I bolted upright, cold sweat making me feel clammy. There was a hard cot beneath me, and I whipped my head around as their voices filled my mind.

“Why? Why tear down the Veil? You need to listen.”

“Do you want me to take the shot?”

“No. No! No!”

“Varric!”

“You have no idea what you have done. This is your responsibility now.”

My fingers curled into the padding of the bed, my head pounding as the memories of the ritual flooded my mind. I put my head in my hands, trying to shake it all off.

“Well,” I heard a familiar voice before he coughed. “Look who’s still with us.”

“Varric?” My eyes watered, and I looked up over my shoulder. “You’re okay… But I saw Solas stab you. You fell…”

“Trust me, kid, I’ve had worse. Gonna take more than a flesh wound to stop me.” He coughed. “Don’t think I’ll be making it out to the field anytime soon, though.”

I turned to face him. “I should’ve come up with a better plan. I should’ve—”

“You worked with what you had. And you succeeded, by the way. World isn’t drowning in demons.” I could tell in his tone that he felt like he had let me down, not the other way around. Because I trusted him, because I put my faith in him. He could never let me down, though.

“It isn’t over, though. We trapped Solas in the Fade, but something else got out. Something—”

“Rook. You’ve got this. I’ve seen your work. Like the time you disobeyed orders while taking down that Venatori slavery ring. There’s a reason I dragged you into this whole Solas mess. You’re clever. Adaptable. And you don’t know when to quit.”

“Rook?” I heard Harding before the door opened, and I looked over as she entered. “You’re awake? Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I was looking for elfroot.”

“No it’s… it’s fine. I was just going to stretch my legs.”

“Oh! Rook, watch your step out there. If you put a foot wrong, you’ll fall forever. Yeah, on top of everything else, the eluvian took us to the Fade. The place where dreams come from? So, that… yeah.”

“Then I really need to look around.” I stood, moving to the door.

“Yeah, you should. And… should talk about things. Maybe I find Neve? She’s outside looking around. There’s a room with a table down the stairs. I’ll meet you there.”

“Go ahead, Rook,” Varric said. “Me? I need to sleep,” he said as he turned over. “See you later, kid.”

I moved down the curved stairs on the right, seeing the table Harding had mentioned. Straight back was a long hallway leading to a door. I opened it, seeing a dark gray and purple sky with pink on the horizon line. Islands and debris floated throughout the sky, and there was a wolf statue serving as an altar to Fen’Harel in the center. On the far side was a large building I would have to explore later.

On the left were two floating structures with floating cobblestones making a bridge to each of them. On the right was a longer bridge made of thick trees twisting together to support another building that resembled a greenhouse. There was another structure past that on the far side that had a broken wooden bridge hanging from it that I couldn’t quite reach.

I turned around, craning my neck to look up, seeing the lighthouse towering above us. I was glad that it felt safe here, at least. It was a gut feeling more than anything, but this place felt inviting, almost homey. It was kind of a wreck, but it could be fixed.

“Look who’s with us!” Neve said as I approached her.

“We’re uh… we’re really in the Fade.”

“Land of raw magic, nightmares, and this apparently.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” I said. “Harding thought we should talk. About what comes next.”

“She’s not wrong. But if you need a breather… can’t hurt to look around first,” she told me, walking away.

“Thanks, Neve,” I mumbled. 

This was sure to be an adventure. Likely not the one I signed up for. I was lucky enough that Varric survived. I wouldn’t be able to do this without him. Same with Neve and Harding. I had a feeling whatever knowledge Solas held would become important as well, whether I liked it or not.

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

A/N: It'll take me a decade to process and get over this game guys

Let me know if you want me to make a tag list <3

[caracarnn]

FULL NAME. rand al'thor NICKNAME. shadowkiller? ALIASES. idk but he has titles for DAYS PRONOUNS. he / him SIZE. 6'6" AGE. he's 23 at the end of the books ZODIAC. n/a- SPOKEN LANGUAGES. the new tongue

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ―

HAIR. wavy red hair that reaches down to the back of his neck. it curls at the ends FACIAL HAIR. he keeps himself clean shaven. EYES. blue/gray. they're described as stormy a lot. SKIN TONE. fair skin BODY TYPE. he's got the body of a fighter after all of his training. VOICE. he has a deeper voice and it's commanding when he wants it to be. DOMINANT HAND. right. POSTURE. at the beginning he's much more conscious of his height, he hunches a lot. But as time goes on he gets a straighter posture, a much more regal and intimidating posture SCARS. most of his everyday things are Healed by the Power by Aes Sedai. But the Heron marks on his palms remain, the two large wounds in his side are pretty big marks and by the end of the series. SPOILER ALERT he's lost a hand BIRTHMARKS. not sure I have to think about this. MOST NOTABLE FEATURES. His striking red hair, stormy eyes and noble features.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ―

PLACE OF BIRTH. on the slopes of Dragonmount HOMETOWN. emond's fields, the two rivers. SIBLINGS. one half brother PARENTS. tam & kari al'thor - adoptive parents / janduin & tigraine - birth parents

𝐀𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ―

OCCUPATION. the dragon reborn? king? high lord? CURRENT RESIDENCE. he has to move about. too many people are out to get him. FINANCIAL STATUS. he's very wealthy due to his Aiel heritage, the Fifth of all conquerings that they take. He's wealthy due to his status as king and high lord, which involves tribute. but he grew up very modestly. DRIVER'S LICENSE. doesn't exist but bro is a great horseman CRIMINAL RECORD. I mean the high lords in Tear would LOVE to pin some things on him, I'm sure

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ―

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. heterosexual for book canon. ( 👀. iykyk ) PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. the emotionally responsible one. this doesn't always work out PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. more dominant TURN OFFS. don't be evil. no betrayal. bad hygiene lol TURN ON'S. trust. a deep connection. assertiveness. LOVE LANGUAGE. acts of service and quality time RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. he can be closed off. he can be private. but he also wants to be there for his partner no matter what

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ―

CHARACTER'S THEME TUNE. my body is a cage - arcade fire / power is power - sza / the man who can't forget HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME. horse ride, archery, training in the aiel way, sword training, reading, playing the flute, sketching, writing LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. I'd say that Rand falls between the two. SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. it really depends. if it's a physical confidence - that's something he doesn't much think about. if it's another kind of confidence then that's something that wavers badly. he has little self confidence and is full of doubts but does the best he can

tagged by: @luckhissoul & @adversitybloomed tagging: @tothedevilsshow @2wanlake @sparelove @forwardlion @cairhiens @withinkandquill @malumxsubest

[kaija-rayne-author]

Wow. So much dislike about elves generally preferring to be barefoot in the Dragon Age world.

Y'all.

Why elves not wearing shoes in Dragon Age is completely logical.

Okay, so it’s not a huge secret that I grew up poor. We're talking hardscrabble poor. The kind of poor most people don't think even exists in the western world anymore (I guarantee it does).

To someone with very little ability to buy things, shoes just aren't the priority everyone seems to think they are. City elves are poor in most depictions.

The Dalish would likely feel they'd rather use the materials for something else. They may not be as poor as city elves, but they likely wouldn't be wasteful either. Depending on where they wintered, they might not even use them then. I go out barefoot in light snow and frost, you do actually get used to it.

Fenris is a former enslaved person with lyrium tattoos on his feet. The tattoos cause him pain when touched. Of course he doesn't wear shoes.

I never had casual wear shoes in the spring/summer/fall. They just did not exist in my understanding of the world. There was no need to buy and ruin a pair of shoes when feet toughen up just fine.

I grew up in the Adirondack Mountains, by the way. There are a lot of bloody rocks there. You can't dig very far down before you hit bedrock up there.

We had horses and dogs too, (yes, I'm aware of the crappy juxtaposition of parents who pay for horses but not shoes) so it's not like we're talking a pristine woodland. (Not that anyone who has spent much time in actual wilderness would say it's 'pristine' in the sense of 'clean', anyway.

I'd get a pair of sneakers/runners before school started (usually second hand) and a pair of boots in the winter. I remember having to wear bread bags around my feet inside my boots to keep them dry and whole. Less likely to get frostbite that way.

I distinctly remember my first brand new pair of shoes. I remember my second and third pairs too.

Even now, when I have far too many shoes, more than I could ever need, (I've got a thing for boots, my kids tell me my collection is 'extra'. They're right 🤣) I still prefer to go barefoot. From around April to November, I just don't wear shoes unless I have to. Like, to go into a store or public area; I'll reluctantly wear proper footwear to hike in (and even then they usually wind up over my shoulder instead of where they belong) shoes just aren't the absolute necessity so many folks act like.

I'm aware of what Gaider said about it, that he blamed (unfairly) the art team. It's the director's job to approve things like that, so, uh, bad form.

Still.

It is very possible to have a strong preference for no shoes. You don't really miss what you never had. And to me, it feels like y'all wearing shoes all the time is weird and likely unhealthy. In fact, it kinda is.

"Walking barefoot helps to improve circulation which increases the nourishment of nerves, muscles, and bone of the foot and helps minimize swelling of the lower extremities. Walking barefoot may also help improve the strength and flexibility of the muscles and ligaments of the foot which improves the function of the foot, reducing injuries of the foot, and improving posture and balance of the body."

At most, for just every day, I'll wear a pair of flops if I think the terrain is dangerous enough to warrant it. That's very rarely. I do have a habit of watching where I step, though.

In spring, I go out on the tarmacadam to intentionally toughen my feet up. And no, my feet aren't calloused monstrosities.

It's just kinda mind-blowing to me how essential so many people seem to feel shoes are. They just aren't.

To me, it makes perfect sense that the elves, a historically repressed and abused people (sort of like a lot of my ancestors) don't feel they're necessary.

In a medivalish world like Dragon Age, where blights or false gods or wars keep tearing civilization to pieces, shoes would be ridiculously expensive. I mean, soldiers didn't take boots because they thought they were cool. They did it for resale value.

And cobblering is incredibly skilled labour. I was lucky enough to find someone who still knew how to keep my favourite boots alive longer. That guy could make those boots look almost brand new.

But in that world, poor elves would absolutely not be likely to wear shoes.

Shoes feel incredibly confining to someone who didn't grow up wearing them. I utterly loathe the way shoes feel.

I've also been a dancer and martial artist for a large portion of my life. Two groups of people you'll frequently find barefoot.

The way you walk in shoes is completely different from how you walk barefoot.

It's also an incredibly privileged viewpoint to utterly insist shoes are necessary and that elves in a video game should absolutely have to have them.

The only thing I'm annoyed about is that the armours often include boots, which my elves just wouldn't wear. I should have a barefoot option.

It may not be strictly canon, for the whys behind barefoot elves, but it makes complete sense.

The only elf I'll say it doesn't make sense for is Solas. Why he doesn't wear shoes could just be a big commitment to his cover of elven apostate hobo.

Or perhaps his culture didn't think shoes necessary any more than I do. That would also explain why elves could have a preference for no shoes, it could be a holdover tradition because they all descend from the Elvhen.

It's true that you develop a sense for the earth, or trees, or whatever you're walking on if you don't wear shoes. I spent a lot of time with a book in trees, because few people would climb as high as me so I was safe there. It could easily be that elves wouldn't want to lose that sense, too.

You can learn a lot about an area by what the surface feels like under your feet. If you're a hunter, it's sometimes easier to track if you know your quarry prefers a certain type of terrain. You don't need to look down if you can feel the ground.

In fact, despite what people may think, my feet are incredibly sensitive. Tough, yes, but still very 'feely'.

Point made, I'll stop blathering now 😅.

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[nerd-fandom-drabbles]

When in Antiva...

Description: When a meticulously planned operation in the Rialto red-light district goes awry, the team is split and Lucanis and Rook share a bit of quality time.

1562 words

Characters: femme elven mage Rook, Lucanis, Harding, a whisper of Spite, and a couple of dirty Venatori losers

Pairings: Rook x Lucanis

Genre: Action-adventure, a dash of humor, and a hint of romannnnceee???????

Content Warning: T for Teen for language and adult themes (mild-to-spicy language depending on your mileage for innuendo and debauchery, fantasy violence, sexual themes)

WARNING: There may be spoilers for Dragon Age: The Veilguard gameplay footage and/or Mary Kirby tweets.

Rook, Lucanis, Harding, and Spite stood in a dark alley somewhere in the middle of Rialto's tiny red-light district. A few nights prior, the Veilguard had received a tip that a key associate of Zara Renata had been stashed away in a Vint-owned whorehouse in the Antivan city. There was some sort of Venatori rendezvous planned for tonight, where an artifact of interest to the Veilguard would be passed along.

Lucanis and Harding had done some initial scouting of the location, and together prepared a detailed dossier on what to expect: floor-plans, maps, persons and places of interest. Rook had gone over the information they collected with a fine-toothed comb, and come up with a plan for getting in and out as smoothly as possible.

Being an elf, she would enter through the back, dressed as one of the serving staff. Lucanis and Harding would enter together through the front door in casual clothes with stealth weaponry, and ask for the room the mark was said to be staying in, under the pretense of it having 'personal significance' to them. When denied, they'd settle for one on the same floor, instead, and ask for a jug of wine to be sent up for the sake of appearances. In the meantime, Rook would take a cleaning cart out of the closet for plausible deniability, and use her magic to carefully dispel any wards the Venatori might have placed on the door.

By that point, Lucanis and Harding should have arrived in their room, with the wine following up behind them. Rook would offer to take the wine the rest of the way, and warn that there was a big spill downstairs (which she would have stealthily created upon entry) that needed cleanup. That would hopefully be enough to keep the other servants busy downstairs long enough not to interfere. As for the other patrons: that would, unfortunately, have to fall to luck. At this point, Lucanis would quietly pick the physical lock on the room door, and Harding would secure the fire escape leading out the back.

With luck, they would be able to capture the artifact, and at least one of the Vints for further questioning.

Of course, things never went according to plan. They seemed to, right up until the Vint carrying the artifact tossed an empty ale flagon at Rook and went barreling out of the window. Rook ran to the shattered window and poked her head out; visibility was bad from where she stood – no use trying to zap him. Harding and Rook caught each other's eyes.

“Was that-?” Harding asked, pointing down.

“He had the artifact! After him!” Rook shouted, as Lucanis and the other Vint circled each other.

Lucanis's eyes began to glow their violet glow as Spite joined the fight, and the man realized who he was faced with all at once. The Vint's eyes narrowed, “The Demon of Vyrantium.”

“In the flesh,” Lucanis readied his daggers.

“I owe you for what you did to my cousin. Come now. Duel me for your life, Demon.”

In response, Rook merely rolled her eyes, sighed, and cast a paralysis spell on the guy from her spot near the window. Lucanis relaxed his posture and stared at her, his eyes returning to their normal dark brown shade, amused and questioning.

“Does everyone want to kill you?” She asked, a little annoyed. He gave her a blank-faced shrug and she let out a groan, “Just grab him and gag him.”

“As you say,” Lucanis answered, taking off his cravat and stuffing it in the guy's mouth as a makeshift gag. He began binding him with scraps he tore from the bed's flat-sheet while Rook checked the hallway for backup. After a few quiet moments he looked up at Rook, “The noise: was it too much?”

“Considering the music downstairs and all the moaning... maybe? But probably not.”

Lucanis stopped for a moment, gauging the noise level of his surroundings. A huge wave of cheers erupted from the floor below, overtaking even the sweeping sounds of the lutist, and he stood up, satisfied.

“You're right, there was some sort of naughty show starting in the main hall when we arrived. Unlikely anyone's leaving that to check in on this guy.” He gave the body a little kick for emphasis, then hoisted him up over his shoulder.

Rook blushed as she remembered what she had witnessed on her way upstairs. Trying to remain cool, she responded, “Right. Yeah, I noticed. A lot of... mouth stuff for a Vint whorehouse.”

He shrugged, “When in Antiva, do as the Antivans do,” he shifted his stance, so the weight of the body he carried fell more solidly on his knees and thighs. The Vint growled softly, the effects of the paralysis spell slowly wearing off.

“I'm sorry. What?”

“Here, it's considered bad manners to penetrate a woman without giving her at least one orgasm first,” he spoke coolly and matter-of-factly.

“Uhhh... really?”

He nodded once, amused by how much redder her face turned. Any more and she'd match the drapes.

“Right! This fascinating foray into Antivan culture aside...” She tried to recall the next steps of the plan and failed, still flustered, “How do we get this guy out of here?”

“The roof. Follow me.”

As she followed him, she held her hands to her warm cheeks and hot, pointed ears. Lucanis had proven to be a strange find. A stoic assassin, always on high alert. All business. All the time. He slept in the most nondescript room in the Lighthouse, and spent his free time cooking, training, and compiling intelligence received from the Crows into dossiers for Veilguard missions. He was hard to read, perhaps by nature, but sometimes she got the feeling that he liked making her uncomfortable.

He could probably tell that she was attracted to him, a fact which she couldn't deny. She'd felt it the moment she'd first seen him sweeping down on Spite's indigo wings, graceful and vicious. And when she'd found out the truth about Spite, the feelings only deepened. He carried so much on his shoulders and had survived so much. She liked him and respected him, and made it a point to address the missions of personal import to him first. She told the others it was because they needed to separate him from Spite to boost their chances against the Evanuris, which was partially true. But it was also favoritism, plain and simple, driven by an unshakable desire to get closer to him.

When they got to the roof, she closed the door behind them.

“There should be a container over... here.” He hauled the now wriggling body over to the wooden box, and tossed it in.

Rook watched from a safe distance as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of swirling blue liquid. He crouched beside the crate and, in one smooth motion, ripped his cravat out of the man's mouth and popped the cork on the vial.

“I'll have you know I-” the man in the box squealed angrily, then quieted as Lucanis's hand dove inside.

“Drink up,” he said menacingly, holding open the Vint's jaw with one hand and pouring the potion down his throat with the other. When the vial was empty, he tossed it to the side, it shattering evenly on the gravel rooftop. He put his hand over the man's mouth, leaned in a little, and stared into the box darkly.

“Swallow,” he growled.

Rook found herself unconsciously following the command, too. Lucanis could be a bit... intimidating.

She turned her thoughts to the Vint in the box. It was just a sleeping potion, so he'd stay there a couple of hours, until their scouts could move his body to a nearby safe house and begin the interrogation.

“Open,” Lucanis commanded and inspected the man's mouth. When satisfied, he stood up, still holding the lid to the crate open. “Night night.”

The crate's lid slammed closed with a thud. With that, he turned his attention to his saliva-soaked cravat which lay in a little heap by the crate. “Ugh.”

“Leave it. We can get you another one,” Rook remarked, mildly entertained by his disgust. All of the questionable things they'd seen tonight and this is the one that got a reaction out of him.

“Let's just hope he actually knows something useful,” He said.

“Our intelligence has been good so far.”

He grunted his agreement.

For a moment they stood on the roof, taking in the night air. The city was a quiet cacophony of music, shouting, and from where they were standing, the raucous sounds of lovemaking - if you could call it that. Lucanis did a little stretch, rolling his shoulder in a wide circular motion.

“You okay? That guy looked... heavy.”

He shook his head and then started rolling his neck, “Bad lift. Rookie mistake.”

“I could probably help with that.” It was nothing a quick regeneration spell couldn't fix.

“Later.” He then did the strangest thing she'd ever seen him do. He winked.

Her brain reacted as if struck by lightning. Was this... flirting?

“Lucanis Dellamorte.” She feigned indignation with practiced perfection, “We are standing on top of a whorehouse next to a crate with an unconscious Vint in it.”

“Exactly.” He laughed, “We should get going.”

And so they did.

[ewansnose]

INVISIBLE STRINGS (2)

Aemond Targaryen x Twin Sister (OC)

Summary: Aemond Targaryen was known as a cold, cruel and frightening prince, but he wasn't like that. Aemond was affectionate, intelligent, obedient and loved his family, but mostly her. Alysanne Targaryen is Aemond's twin sister, but with a different appearance. She had hair like her mother Alicent's, but her eyes were the violet of Old Valyria, the blood of the dragon running through her veins. Aemond Targaryen was cold, cruel and frightening, but not with her. What Alysanne wanted, he did. Because it was always her and always will be

Rating: Explicit/+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warning: Violence and explicit NSFW, third-person POV, bad language, angst, fluff, smut (unprotected sex, oral (giving and receiving), (use of fingers)

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. This is the first story I've posted on tumblr, so please take it easy on me.

Alysanne walked through the halls of the castle towards the dining hall. Her lilac dress swaying as she moved. The princess distributed smiles along the way, always greeting the servants and guards. She opened the hall doors and walked over to the table, kissing her mother and father on the foreheads. She kissed Helaena's cheek and Aegon's then sat down next to Aemond.

"You forgot to greet me." Aemond said in a playful tone, kissing his sister's cheek.

"You don't deserve my kisses." She smiled, kissing his cheek.

The servants placed the food on the table and they helped themselves, eating in silence. Alysanne sipped the wine in her goblet as she kept her head down, avoiding contact with the King, as she knew that if she looked at him, he would ask about the letter. Well, that didn't help.

"Honey, did you read the Tully letter?"

The princess set down her goblet and glared at Viserys, clearing her throat before answering.

“Yes, I read. And my answer is still no.”

Alicent sighed and shook her head slightly, knowing they were going to start a little argument midway through dinner.

“Alysanne, you need to get married!”

“With an old man from any house? Are you really that desperate?”

“Speak straight to me, Alysanne, I'm still King.” he snapped making his daughter roll her eyes “Lord Tully is a good and competent man, he would give you beautiful children and-”

“He's twice my age and I doubt that withered cock of his is any good.” she slammed her fork on the table, staring at him angrily “I won't submit to that role. It's not because mom married you early that I have to follow the same path as her.”

“Alysanne.” Alicent scolded her.

“Why can Helaena marry Aegon and my suitors are all old? Well, except for Cregan who is beyond handsome but he's already got himself a bride.”

“Because you refused to marry him.”

“You always put pressure on me, I got desperate.” her voice increased “If you didn't keep pestering me to give an immediate answer maybe I would be married to him now. I'm not marrying any lord, least of all an old man. If one day someone competent and worthy of my hand comes along, I will choose him.”

Aemond had his eye glued to the empty plate in front of him, his throat going dry at his twin's words. She wasn't wrong, it wasn't fair that she was forced to do something she didn't want to do, especially something disgusting like marrying an old man who possibly had lovers.

“It's not fair to me, I didn't ask to be a woman-”

“But you are one.” Viserys shouted, startling everyone at the table “You are good for marrying and making heirs, it will always be like that. Don't think I don't know that Aemond trains you behind the scenes, disobeying my orders.” Aemond improved his posture in the chair and felt his muscles stiffen. “You'll never be a swordswoman, soldier or anything like that, get that useless idea out of your head. I will find you a groom, and you will marry him with no choice. I've given you a lot of chances and you've thrown them away, so I'll take care of that for you, as I did for Rhaenyra.”

Alysanne felt tears welling up in her eyes and stared at her father, the first tear running down her cheek.

“And now she's married your brother and given you bastard grandchildren, you did a great job, Dad.”

The princess rose and left the hall, the click of her heels echoing through the corridors as she hurried to her chambers. She locked herself in her room and let the tears flow, taking a glass and filling it with the wine she always asked to be left in her room, taking a long drink before sitting in her armchair and removing her heels. It wasn't fair, not to her. She wanted the chance to find someone really good, someone she could love and be loved back, not a political marriage where she would just be used. She stood there in silence, the moonlight illuminating her dark room as she sipped her wine.

The door to her chamber was opened and the princess didn't even bother to turn around to see who she was. Her dear sister approached her bed, sitting on it carefully, running her hands over the pale blue fabric of her dress. They were quiet for a moment, the tears drying on Alysanne's face, her lips red from the wine.

“I'm sorry you heard that from our father, you don't deserve a marriage where you will suffer, just like me.” Alysanne looked at her sister, her eyes sad and her face tired. “I love Aegon as a brother and I love our children, but he is a terrible husband. He comes to me when he's drunk or when mom and dad talk about more and more heirs. Aegon must have countless bastards for the flea drop, and by the seven…he must have so many lovers.”

Alysanne listened attentively to the words of her older sister, the person she admired most in this world besides her mother. She knew that her brothers' marriage was terrible, they didn't try to hide it, but she knew that they both loved each other like family, like brothers, and that's why they kept their marriage.

“The point is, you don't have to marry a middle-aged man just because our mother did that once. Don't listen to Otto, don't listen to Viserys, don't listen to anyone. Listen to your heart because someday you will find someone who deserves your love and who will take care of you the way you deserve.” Helaena got up and held her younger sister's hands, stroking her fingers with care and affection. “I love you so much, little sister, I will always want the best for you.”

The dark haired princess cried once more, hugging her sister's body tightly as she sobbed into her shoulder. Alicent's children were close, even if it didn't seem like it, they cared for each other, always wanting the best.

“I wish I could just have my own dragon and fly away from here, Hel.” Her voice was muffled against the blonde's shoulder.

“You will tame Cannibal, I can tell you that.” Helaena slowly pulled away and caressed her sister's face. “He is in Mount dragon, you must go to him. Claim what is yours, dear sister.”

"How do you know he'll be in Mount Dragon?"

The eldest shrugged.

“I just know.” Helaena kissed Alysanne's forehead and walked away, leaving her chambers and leaving a confused and sad Alysanne behind.

That night, Alysanne drank more than she should have of her wine, which caused her stomach to turn and her head to throb as if her eyes were going to pop out. The next morning she took a hot bath prepared by her maids and drank tea given by the maester at her request. The princess wore a dark purple dress this morning and her hair was tied in a long braid on the side, leaving the rest of her strands loose. She skipped breakfast and went after the only person who could help her with what she intended to do today. Aegon.

She found her brother drunk in one of Maegor's secret passages, dressed in filthy clothes and with a bottle of cheap wine in his hand. With a little effort she took him to her rooms, throwing his body in the bathtub and making him open his eyes in fright.

“What the fuck, Alysanne?” he screamed, rubbing her face with her hand.

"I'm going to Mount Dragon and I need you to cover me." she had her hands behind her back as she stared at her brother with amusement.

“Why didn't you ask Aemond? He would certainly do it better than me.” Alicent's heir put his hand on his head and moaned in pain. “And what are you going to do in Mount Dragon?

“Aemond is too straight for what I intend to do, he wouldn't let me go. I'm going to claim Cannibal.”

Aegon widened his eyes and looked at his sister as she shook her head in denial, getting out of the bathtub a little dizzy.

“Are you crazy? You can't go alone. Cannibal is a dangerous dragon, everyone who tried to ride him was killed. Get another dragon, we have a lot on Dragonstone, Rhaenyra can give you an egg and-”

“I want Cannibal, Aegon. I've dreamed of him every night since I was a little girl, flying all over Westeros. It's like we were destined.”

Aegon took off his clothes while continuing to disapprove of his sister's idea.

“This is crazy, Alysanne. I'm not even that stupid.”

The princess snorted and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at her brother with a frown on her face.

“I'm going to tell Mom that you took me to flea hunting on my fifth name day, and because of that I'm no longer pure as she so desperately wants.”

Aegon gasped in shock, jabbing a finger at Aly.

“You wouldn't dare.”

“You want to see?” She raised her eyebrows as she stared at him. “So, will you help me?”

Aegon snorted and threw the dirty, wet garment to the floor, wetting his lips and running his fingers through her hair.

“If I get screwed, you get screwed too. I will cover you but by the faith of the seven, don't die.”

Alysanne smiled and hugged her brother, kissing his cheek.

“Thanks, Aeg, I promise I'll be back in one piece. You can tell Aemond but don't tell my location, he'll come after me.”

He agreed and the princess left her room through the passage to hers, preparing her things for a trip that would last a few days. She went out through the passages and paid for the silence of one of the concierges who offered a carriage to take the princess to her destination, and as the horse rode away, Alysanne felt her heart go out of her mouth. She was anxious, scared and happy, looking forward to the moment when she could finally have the dragon she had always wanted.

[lovra974]

Another Barbarian Bakugo [part 2]

Prince Barbarian Bakugo x Dragon Royal Reader ; Dragonshifter Kirishima ; fluff ; implicit smut ; angst ; death of character ; sad ending. It's the last part. Hope you like it !

A lot of mysteries surrounded the L/N Realm.

The tropical forest beated by tempests, the tall mountains screaming in the wind... And the dragon-borns flying in the sky.

Your Realm was a peculiar one. Not so long ago, dragon-borns lived hidden and enslaved. Their scales and horns were tore out to be sold. A tribe was using magic to lock them up, forbiding them to fly.

You were the one who freed them. You were at war with the tribe, they blocked the few commercials road your people used. When you discovered dragon-borns were locked in their caves, you used it.

They are peculiar creatures. The years confined weaken them. You used old magic to help them. Kirishima was the first to follow you. He proposed you something, his dragon being the bigger was the harder to control. By using a link called sibling, you could help him to tame his dragon. You fought together, strengthen by magic and the new link between you two.

You won against the tribe and freed all the dragon-borns, they weren't a lot.

You proposed them citizenship, promising protection and equality with other people. They all agree, but were quite suspicious. They have been locked for years after all.

But through time you won their trust.

Kirishima was your closest friend and one of the representative of his kind in your council. Your people prospered. Your culture and the dragon-born's culture mixed up.

However a problem appeared. The number of dragon-born rised up, while your food reserve didn't evolve. Feeding everybody was becoming quite difficult.

So, when Queen Mitsuki send a letter where she proposed an alliance and the hand of her only son in marriage for your help, you jumped on it. It was the solution.

You heard about the Bakugo’s tribe. Traders talked about the Prince's prodigious swordplay, his boldness in war, his lack of fear. His land was prosperous and fertile contrary to yours. You could feed your people with this mariage.

You asked more information and the traders talked about his spiked blond hair, how he kept his posture against King Enji who has three time his age and experience. Then, a trader talked about his red eyes.

Red eyes were the mark of dragon-borns in your country. You questioned the trader to know if he saw him shift.

"I don't know if he is a dragon, Heir L/N, but he sure fight like one."

You fantasized the man, without knowing it. Some of the oldest called him an ancient dragon soul. And Kirishima called you a lovesick fan, always with a stupid grin. "Come on Eijiro, I'm doing it for the food, you know me." You would say.

You would whispered it when you barged in Todoroki's castle, or when you found the Phoenix' crown. You burned down the castle after making sure everybody was dead. Apparently, King Enji ran away when he learned about the destruction of his fleet but left his children and wife. "Coward" growled Kirishima.

You sent your best trackers at his pursuit and flew to the Bakugo's, the crown safe in an orned box.

Bakugo, from his side, fought his parents. Asking when did they thought they had the right to forced his hand like that, without telling him before.

"Listen at you brat, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child ! And you thought I would tell you? Knowing how you would react? I am your Queen, Katsuki. And you better remember it. We need this alliance with the dragon riders, you will give it to your people and that's the last time I'll explain it to you!"

The only person to ease his feelings was his father, who like the king he is, guides his steps. He talked to him about you, how you beat him and how trapped he felt.

"They doesn't sound so bad," he murmured. "But you should learn more about them and their culture. Don't let the darkness of ignorance guide you, flames are always better. Even if it burns. It's good their court is arriving tomorrow."

He followed his advice and learning he did. The first thing he did was training with your men. You won't beat him again, he would learn your tricks, your style, how your body glide. Then he learned more about dragon-borns, how you freed them, how you trusted them, how you rode them. He learned about your people who carved mountains and forests, children who trained for the Storm's Rite, dragon-borns who opened to the world and trusted humans with the sibling link.

And maybe, you weren't so bad.

When you came back, a week before the marriage, you bowed down to his parents and yours. He felt strange. A weird sense of giddiness. When you came to training, his own men would blank, they heard so much about you and the "stupid arranged marriage" their leader was forced into. "You know boss, if it's for the country's good, I volunteer to take your place for marriage." said Kaminari. Sero seconded, in case something happened to Kaminari.

Bakugo beated their ass that day, rage in his blood. He didn't know if it was because he felt mocked or because you were watching. But you didn't talk to him.

He didn't go to you either but he expected you to. Even more after he showed off your people's tricks he learned while you were away. But you didn't say anything.

Not until the ceremony, you got the Phoenix crown out of a box and put it on his head.

"How does it feel, to be the first emperor of the continent ?" You pecked his lips. The touch soft, your warmth dicipated as quickly as it came.

The first night, you stayed in your quarter after telling something about the lack of storms.

He learned the next day he was living with you for the Mishae plains. He saw your homeland, you took his hand and ran with him. He hunted with you, cooked with you, flew with you on Kirishima and cuddled with you in front of dragon's flames. You taught him everything, how to care, how to sooth and how to love. He never felt behind with you, always an equal.

He taught you songs his soldiers sang before battle, he taught you how to dress for winter in the Eastern lands, he taught you how to imitate animals to lure them and he taught you how warm he was.

Kirishima was always with him if not with you. The dragon-born trained and laughed with him. Your brother became his brother too.

It isn't until his first storm in your home, that you led him to your bedroom. You kissed him ferocely, touching and molding your bodies. The rain covered your breaths, thunder roaring like you both. It felt intense, like the weather. Rain pouring, wind screaming, clouds lightening. Bakugo finally understood what Kirishima told him : "You have bells during marriage, we don't have those. We only have thunder, it's him who tell us to... Dance." The smirk from the red-head should have led him to this ancient tradition.

You both flew back when your parents told you Enji was coming from the West. He paid mercenaries to take his castle back.

You both flew to the North with soldiers. The mercenaries were from a witch's clan. Their magic was dangerous to dragon-borns, making the fight more difficult. You ran to King Enji, if there was no king, there was no war. While you fought with the Phoenix you didn't see the archer pointing at you.

Bakugo saw it before you. He screamed you name with all his might, alerting Kirishima. You turned uround.

They saw the scene perfectly. The arrow flying, your eyes widening and the silver head piercing your chest. And just to be sure you wouldn't survive, Enji hit you with his sword, your blood poured everywhere.

Red. Red. Red. Everything was red. The earth where you lied. Katsuki vision while he saw life leave your face. He couldn't believe he didn't tell you he love you. And Kirishima flames when he felt the sibling link broke, crushing his dragon soul.

Enji perished in the flames, swallowed by them. How ironic for a Phoenix. But Kirishima was mad, he couldn't control himself.

Bakugo screamed. He poured his broken heart to stop the dragon. He climbed on it, hugging his scales while the dragon tore itself. He murmured, "I know, I know, I know... I need you to come back Eijiro!"

Crying, he used the spell like you taught him. Kirishima clinged on it. They were both hurting, desesperate. When the spell ended, the link was form.

They were sibling.

They left the North to take you back to Mishae. Bakugo and Kirishima swore no witch would ever hurt a dragon, no dragon-born would die of hunger. The empire formed by the South, the East and North would forever remember you like their creator and fierce protector.

He was now Emperor Bakugo, King of the Barbarians and the Dragons. He couldn't have imagine this destiny, and it was all thanked to you.

Tag list : @nnubee ; @phoenix666stuff

Please tell me if the link worked!

[howtodrawyourdragon]

In A Different Form

Chapter 1 - The Runt

Summary: July Break Bingo.

Set long after THW, the dragons never left. A Reincarnation AU. In his old age, the Night Fury wants to be left alone, but that doesn't stop a youngster from seeking him out.

Warnings: /

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 737

Prompts: Age Difference, Age Gap

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Characters: Hiccup, Toothless

Pairing: Toothcup

Author's Notes: Don't be fooled by the six chapters, this is a very short fic. Finished it last weekend and I had a lot of fun. I hope someone else will, too. :)

Enjoy!

-XOXOX-

As an older Night Fury, he draws more than enough attention from dragons of his kind both from around his age and those much younger than him. Although the former is rare even down here.

Not many dragons get to be as old as he does. Disease, humans or other dragons can kill them long before they get to his age. He’s missing a tailfin, he can’t fly like the rest of them can, though he certainly tries to keep his wings strong, and yet he isn’t just barely surviving. He’s thriving.

And that, naturally, draws attention.

And he honestly couldn’t care less.

Light Furies, Night Furies, sometimes even dragons of other species. Young or old, male or female. It is with an annoying frequency that they seek him out. They try to court him by bringing him fish, dancing for him, showing their prowess, but he is simply not interested. He never is. At some point he had the Light Fury, he had a human, His Human. Once the two of them passed, he honestly couldn’t care anymore.

He prefered to be alone and it was still a good existence. He has his den and it’s a small cave system with only one way in or out and it sits in a rather nice clearing. That clearing sits in the biome of his choice, which he chose because it reminds him of the forests he once called home up on the surface. Except down here, there’s just the occasional luminous stone that appears to follow the same day and night cycle up on top. During the day, they glow fiercely, during the night, their almost entirely dull. Beyond his den, he has his routine and it’s nice and simple. He lives a life that is void of troubles nowadays and that’s all he needs to pass his days, to let time quietly slip away until he can re-join them,him,once his end finally comes.

And then he comes along.

He’s a different Night Fury who has come to his den. He’s sniffing cautiously at the entrance and yet at the same time throwing caution in the wind as he dares to intrude on the territory of a reclusive dragon. A hermit not a part of any kind of pack or even loosely associated with families nesting nearby by choice. From a distance, he looks grown up, which means he should know that such dragons are usually bad news and yet this one still approaches a hermit’s den.

The Night Fury watches him from the thick foliage, lurking low to the ground. He doesn’t take the other to be the brightest of his litter, that’s for certain.

He comes upon the other from behind as quietly as he can, he was just returning from a hunt. Once he’s right behind him at the entrance of his cave, that’s when he decides to let him know he’s home and stands proudly at his full height, which is just a little bit bigger than his Human used to know him.

With a deep growl, he tells him he’s here and the intruder startles. After jumping feet in the air like a startled cat, he turns to face him. He’s another Night Fury, just as he guessed, a painfully young thing. Smaller than the elder, much smaller, smaller than most; a runt. He would mistake him for a juvenile if he didn’t have all the traits of a fully grown fellow Night Fury. His eyes are as green as the forests that stood outside of a place he once called home.

He lowers his posture with his pupils thin to appear threatening and the young one goes even lower in a submissive and non-threatening pose. His earfins flatten, his pupils are big, he’s practically lying on the ground. With his head the elder sways to the exit of his cave and steps aside, the runt takes the hint and leaves. When he doesn’t go fast enough, when he hesitates and looks back, his elder snaps at him with his teeth and he stumbles before scurrying outside.

As the Runt makes a run for it, the Night Fury notices why he stumbled so clumsily when he snapped at him.

He’s missing most of his left hind leg and the scar is still fresh.

The sun rises and for the rest of the day, he lies awake with a pang in his heart.

[thecrazysmilodonlady]

This boy here is tied to Zayah, since she's a dragon rider after all and you kinda need a dragon for that. His name is Dagny and if something about him seems familiar, he's based on the Ouroboros Dragon from DragonVale, only revamped and done in my style and bearing distinctive marks (his gold stripe). All of his scales have a black lip, I just didn't draw it in as it looked bad and would have driven me insane. Anyways, he's a young adult, similar in age to Zayah and is about 45ft long with a 36ft wingspan

Dagny's abilities are both pretty neat as his primary one is that his entire body functions like an electromagnet, building up a charge as his scales rub together, by say coiling and sliding over himself. This lets him pull in magnetic metals and he's not just pulling in swords and arrows, no he's ripping off iron shingles and dragging in heavy armor. Now, Dagny isn't immune to getting shocked and that electricity has to go somewhere so, he can discharge it all in one burst to get rid of the charge and act as an AoE of sorts since he's not exhaling the lightning, just releasing a charge built up in his scales.

Dagny can produce a much hotter true breath weapon, it spews forth like a liquid red laser and is incredibly hot. Melting stone and metals alike with relative ease. However, he rarely uses this since the intense heat actually weakens his magnetic field and makes flight and more defensive posturing more difficult since he's so used to drawing in metals and part of how he stays in the air is electromagnetism. There is also a major tell for when Dagny is about to spew forth this molten laser, his chest/neck/jaws will start glowing red/orange with heat and will absolutely scorch the skin off of you if you decided to touch him there or anywhere near the glowing bits. This includes his back mind you. Left behind is a mix of metal and glass that was super heated into this liquid or that melted on contact similar to fulgurites. For reference it's straddling the line that iron becomes a gas (2,800C/5,072F), thus the 'odd' consistency since Dagny can only generate that sort of heat on his own, not the material he's exhaling. Since, the liquid/gas mix comes from excess iron in his diet due to being a living electromagnet or anything else that gets ingested and would be toxic in some manner (mostly magnetic metals aside from iron, he can't help that he draws them in and accidentally swallows little pieces while eating/preening)

[faces-ofvenus]

Okay, I was inspired by this request editing these gifs so here goes.

Headcanons of Modern Jace feeling very jealous seeing at that moment that the girl he likes (she's older than him) is talking to a guy the same age as her and he thinks she has no chance to compete against him.

I feel so bad for asking this. I don't want to see my baby suffer (Or maybe yes, but only a little bit).

He couldn't stop admiring you even if he wanted to, the way you smiled, spoke or even your unique personality captivated him in unique and unimaginable ways, he felt so close to you but at the same time so far away, like the moon appreciating the sun, without being able to tell you his true feelings.

You were a friend of your uncle, honestly it was strange, Aegon was not a man of few friends, on the contrary even, he was very sociable, but many of them just used him and took advantage of the money and status that he could provide, but not you, the times you were the only one who really took care of him, even if he didn't deserve it well even Jace would be able to do some of the things you did, and look that he was your uncle, and both of you for a certain time grew up together, and were close.

He met you at a glance, at one of the many platinum parties, it was horrible he would say, he went because they had friends in common, unfortunately not you in specific, but when he saw you, he already said he was captivated by you!? Well, everything stopped, his heart, his body, his eyes, everything seemed focused on admiring you, he didn't consider himself a shy man, but something kept him from always reaching out to you.

For a long time he didn't know why, it was just go, but everything held him in an eternal insecurity, that held him in place and shut him up, he then sought advice from several people, which was shameful, he even talked to his mother, and everyone besides squandered the curiosity to know who was the "woman who stole poor Jace's heart" in Lucerys words, he didn't reveal it to anyone, but everyone always said the same thing.

"just go talk to her"

It was just hard, you seemed to, I don't know... Be so much more "mature" than him, even with your jovial and fun air, he quickly found out that the reason for his insecurity, was just the fact that you were 3 years older than him, that wasn't so much, but for Jacaerys it simply means that he is too "childish" for you, he was only 18 and had just entered college, and you were halfway through your course, you had already met a lot of guys, better guys, smarter... older.

And every situation will lead him to this place now, watching you from a distance, while not only insecurity swallowed him, but now envy stamped on his face, not far away from you, he'll a guy surely older than him, and maybe a little older than you, flirting shamelessly, he surely was Aegon's friend type, college drunk, but even if he knew the man barely compared to him, jealousy still bubbled up, but Jace wouldn't be the type to ruin your evening.

He wouldn't, even though he wanted it to be him talking to you, his mind wandered trying to distract himself with something, be it drink, or talking to some random friend who would then go off to do something he honestly wouldn't be interested in, but his attention was quickly diverted, when he heard your voice, now not sounding so sweet, the guy who had been talking to you for a few minutes, trying to kiss you, the scene itself was already horrible to watch, but the worst of all was perhaps the fact that you were trying to push him away.

Going quickly to meet you, like a fine gentleman going to save his princess, the brunette couldn't see the scene and just do nothing, especially when the woman is you, when he got close enough he quickly pulled your waist away from the man, while holding his hand between the two of you in a defensive posture, his eyes didn't go to you, he couldn't see the look you gave him, not when his eyes looked fiercely at the man in front of him, like a dragon that was about to attack its prey.

- Can't you see that she's not in the mood to be with you!

The man just looked at him strangely, his mind a little sluggish from drinking, but clearly angry at the interruption.

- And who exactly would you be to intrude! Her boyfriend by any chance?

- And if I were? Wouldn't that be your business, to get out of here now before I break your drunken face!

The unknown man winced a little, and with his arms raised in a sign of surrender, he moved quickly away from you, leaving just the two of you there, his hand still on your waist for the first time, your eyes meeting in the night, he felt his mouth go dry with the closeness you two had, subtly his hand resting close to your close, he moved away quickly, his fingers running quickly through your embarrassed curls.

- I'm sorry I just... I couldn't see you in this situation, not saying you couldn't handle it... I just...

He stopped talking when he saw you give a weak laugh, that quickly made him smile, maybe that means he didn't fuck up.

- I don't think if you didn't show up, things would have gotten worse.... Nice to meet you, I'm y/n, we've met before!?

You held out your hand to him, which he gently accepted, your fingers were so soft, and the difference in size of your hands was a little funny, even though they both complemented each other.

- I am Jacaerys Velaryon, the pleasure would be all mine...yes yes, I am Aegon's nephew, remember?

He wanted to remind you of the day Aegon introduced you, the two of you, not least because it was one of the most shameful days of his life.

-ah... Of course hahaha how could I forget the way we met, you're a remarkable guy Jacaerys Velaryon, so would you like to I don't know... Get out of this stupid party that Aegon has planned.

You said perhaps a little embarrassed, he noticed by the cute way your nose seemed to wrinkle you noticed that your hands still hadn't loosened, but you didn't seem to care.

- It would be a pleasure to escape from this place, with a beautiful woman by my side.

Yeah, he was killing himself inside, it made his face heat up, the way you looked shocked at his nickname, the way you looked at him, it burned him inside, like a fire that spreads quickly through an old wooden house, but you just smiled.

- Maybe pleasure is all mine, it's not every day you get to run off with a handsome man too.

And you hand in hand walked quickly out the door, maybe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, or maybe something more, you just, thank that idiot from earlier, otherwise maybe he the moon would never have taken the courage, to go and conquer your sun.

@damatheirin forgive me I did it totally different 😭😭😭😭. Later I post another.

warnings: Nothing reviewed, I'm so gone my God.

[aicosu]

Could I ask how Dragon Age Trespasser made you hate Solas? Did you not enjoy the old god twist?

I do not enjoy that Solas bashes you constantly for your traditions, heritage, and way of living as a Dalish after hundreds of years of oppression and evolution, and then because hes a time traveling god, they posture him as correct. I dont care that hes an ancient elvhanan god — I care that Bioware made a shoddy allegory to Indigenous people being called incorrect and bastardizing their own culture when its not their fault they cannot access it anymore. Its their oppressors — and apparently his.

And in Trespasser it becomes apparant that "solas being the real antagonist" was what they wrote first and not the romance. Which theyve admitted, but its egregious in a way that doesnt work in Trespasser. Because the fact that he doesnt speak to you at length is stupid considering the things he says about learning from you that hes wrong to think the present version of dalish arent worth perserving, or even the qunari, because of you and your companions. It doesn't make sense unless the plot demands him continue his plan for sequel reasons.

The fucking ENDING CREDITS says "he knows if he talks to you hell change his mind" lol yeah. Duh. Is that not the point of even having dialogue wheels? Let me agree or disagree with him. Let me change his mind or join him?

His motivations make more sense in their original plan, without romance. But now its messy and weird.

Trespasser to me furthee highlighted how the choices you make in Inquis. Dont matter. Bioware is one of the only choices fantasy rpgs out there and more and more the choices have been tossed out the window. Choosing templars vs mages means nothing. Not for corypheous, not for stort or companions, not even for gameplay — the enemies are virtually the same. Who leads orlais? Doesnt matter to the story, companions, maps, or ending.

Why fucking give me choices then?

Esp in Trespasser where the TELL YOU THE FUTURE about how no matter what the Inquisition will be corrupt. Fuck off, I can see the writers room in between each dialigue just validating their excuse to clean slate for the sequel.

And it reflects in Solas who has a unique character arc based on romance route he throws out the window to be belligerant. Its bad writing, and Solas now just reminds me how tone deaf Bioware can be writing stories thinly based on real world racial dynamics and marginalized peoples.

[ilikereadingactually]

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons

I'm Afraid you've Got Dragons by Peter S. Beagle

Peter Beagle just never lets me down. i wasn't sure what to expect going into this book, because the cover gives it a slightly silly, How To Train Your Dragon feel to me, which isn't a bad thing at all but doesn't really match the vibe of the rest of Beagle's body of work. and there is humor in this book, and moments of silliness! but at its heart, as with every Beagle book I've read, it takes the characters and their emotions as seriously as it takes the magic and the danger. the stakes are high, and heartbreak is just as dangerous as dragonfire, and reluctant heroes abound.

as a reader i find that i'm very attracted to real-feeling and well-drawn characters, and that plot is (a close) second. if the plot is lacking, great characters can pull me along; if the characters are lacking, i just don't care about what's happening. this is the sort of book that's perfect for me, because we get an interesting cast of characters who consistently charmed me as they each grew and changed and revealed more of themselves like plants slowly sprouting. Robert, in the family business of dragon pest control even though he loves dragons and hates exterminating them; Princess Cerise, who's bored of hosting princes hoping for her hand and instead is teaching herself to read and write; Prince Reginald, fleeing his father's expectations and putting the "wandering" first in "wandering hero;" and a whole side cast of delightful friends, family, and various dragons only Robert can hear.

this is a world that feels like it has a deep history we don't fully get to see, which i love, and our three protagonists subvert some expectations and play into others at just the right moments to make my heart soar and break and squeeze. and we get an interesting antagonist as well! though his part in the story is actually fairly small, he's the catalyst for a lot of really compelling change and growth in the main characters.

all in all, i really loved this book. it rang the same bell that hangs in my heart for The Last Unicorn, and it's going to stay with me for a long time.

the deets

how i read it: i read it as an egalley from NetGalley, for which i am thankful as always, even though once again the book came out before i could finish reading. gotta wrestle my galley reading schedule back into shape!! anyway, i bought a hardcover copy as soon as it came out because it was clear i was going to love it, and it's sitting happily on my shelf now.

try this if you: have feelings for unlikely/unwilling heroes, ever wanted a pet dragon, love stories where the bonds of friendship are more important than the romance, or of course, if you love The Last Unicorn.

some bits i really liked: it was so hard to choose, every page of this book is wonderful

Dragon Market had grown roots but was imperfectly fitted for such permanence, twisting and turning on itself like a cat unable to settle on the right absurd posture in which to sleep.

___

The two of them stood staring at each other in a moment suddenly different from any since he had burst into her room at the age of nine. Robert felt overheated, and more than a little dizzy; but one part of him was entirely aware that in the books and ballads that had begun to take up all of his sister Rosamonde's free time—Patience being still too young to be interested in such things—at this point the boy usually swept the girl up in his arms and practically devoured her with flaming kisses. But the moment passed in mutual confusion.

___

The dragon swung away, climbing again, scaling the moon, turning to hover. So big, how does it do that? To Prince Reginald he gasped, "Move, move, get away, it's after me. Get away!" "Not bloody likely," the Prince said quietly; and in the midst of terror and confusion, Robert had to gape and stare to make sure of the man. Prince Reginald was standing almost astride him, the doppleganger still pointed unwaveringly at the golden flame wheeling high above them. He said, "You are the one who must stand away, my friend. This is the moment I was born for." "Actually, it's not," Robert said apologetically.

pub date: May 14, 2024! go forth and get a copy!

[ride-thedragon]

From Eden

Chapter 2: Just to sit outside your door.

"Perhaps it is time to begin to wean her off the drought.”

He simply stated. They had been away for a week but the girl had gotten better, to whatever capacity better was for her.

Fuller, maybe.

She had slept her way back to looking young. She was more argumentative, but he came to prefer it on camp in comparison to her general apathy. He had even seen her smiling.

“My brother stayed on it till his dying breath, I can smell it on her. She’s gotten better. You can afford to give her less until she has no need for it.”

He didn’t wish to tell a Maester how to do his job. He had no patience in his youth to forge links of any kind, especially at Maester Norren’s age but the milk of the poppy had yet to stick to her scent, the smell was so faint he was sure the girl didn’t notice, only he did, and he was in her company so often now it was as though the scent was always perfumed around him.

“Your Grace, as I’ve said before, I will. Once her cycle is finished, the smell will be a faint memory. More men have been known to grow dependent on the drought. That is what we’re discussing to wean her off of entirely.”

He didn’t like the idea at first. The girl had just started getting better. To lessen, it was to work against her benefit. The longer she would use it, the less effective it would be and the stronger the dose she would need. She’d need to be dried from it entirely to fix her sleep.

“Let us try it for the coming week then.”

After he dismissed the maester, he looked around for her to no avail. He’d grown accustomed to her constant company whether she liked it or not. It seemed an easier journey with her there. She’d even grown the faintest taste for his presence during their chase of his nephew.

He had no idea where she could be. He hadn’t sent her on any errands, nor did he think she’d seek the company of a book. Perhaps the maids or hedge knights would know of her whereabouts . He had been her only companion for a little over a week. Perhaps she needed to be away from him.

After asking three maids and two knights for her he’d started to think the worst.

Was it too overwhelming?

Did she go to bed?

He checked their adjoined rooms without a notion that she had been there since they had left.

Daemon found himself back at the door of the Maester, perhaps he should just start to burden him with his company, he half heartedly jested.

“Do you know where the girl is, Norren?”

His posture stiffened towards the unannounced presence of the Prince.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He recognized the same monotone response he would receive from the girl herself, if he didn’t think to know it better, he’d have been more upset at it. The girl had changed him for the worse in such a short time.

“I sent her to the market to buy somethings, she should be back soon.”

Every bad thing that could happen to her crossed through his mind. He wanted to yell at the Maester, to yell at the maids or anyone who could’ve done it instead. Did she even know they would try to lessen the amount of the drought she had.

Was she protected by anyone at the market? Anything that would aid her in a fight for her life?

They were in a war, half a hundred men would kill the one brown girl with a slit on her nose in Maidenpool for half a bag of grain.

“Your Grace, two men were sent with her at the insistence of Lord Mooton. Much to the insistence by the girl that it wasn’t needed.”

Had he become so caring?

Could it be seen so easily?

“When she returns send her to my room. Next time, I expect to be informed.”

He’d surrendered to the idea of her freedom but he couldn’t commit to it in full, she would have to understand the demand for her whereabouts, a dragon couldn’t stop a blade to her throat.

Daemon wouldn’t look forward to that conversation, but it was better than being presented her dead body. Baela and Rhaena would be better off than her, he thought. They would live great lives without his every interruption. The girl would cost herself her life.

Tomorrow she’d be rid of all her ill-fitting clothes, with her own word she had agreed to do it at the cost of her own imposed freedom. He’d simply call for her, and she’d come to him. It was an irritating cost, he realized.

Somewhere between responding to letters and mapping sightings of Aemond she and walked into his room, a small concern covering her typical expression.

“Is all well, Your Grace?”

He looked up at her more attentively. The men he had fought with called him by his name he recalled. It was another barrier between them that wars had broken.

“What did you get?”

She placed the bag down at the side of the chair she chose to sit on, continuing their conversation with the same uneasy look.

“Citrus, Herbs, some perfumes and such, all things to fight the stench of dragon you never seem to be bothered by.”

He smiled at her before stopping in his tracks, having to discuss a new side to their agreement when she’d only ever been disagreeable at best in these conversations.

“I wish to know where you go before you go.”

She seemed shocked at the new term of their agreement.

‘But you said..,”

“I know what I said. I’ve changed my mind. It’s too dangerous for you to be without someone. Thankfully, Lord Mooton saw reason before you left. When we return to King’s Landing, we’ll have this conversation again.”

He thought he seemed logical, kind even, understanding to the plight of the war and her newly curved freedoms.

“If we return.”

It was barely a whisper, surely one he should ignore, but he felt as though he’d been struck by his grandmother. Her wide eyes moved on to the map in front of them, her skinny hands gliding over the parchment, but she’d manage to knock the air out of him.

“You will make it back to King’s Landing. I promise that to you, on my life.”

The girl joined his past expression, even more openly bewildered by his confession, she met his eyes, scared and unflinching towards him.

The air seemed to halt around them for a moment, almost enchanted in the moment. Something in her eyes showed that she didn’t trust him just yet, but she wanted to believe him. He’d worn the look enough times to know it.

She excused herself, never changing the way she looked at him before leaving entirely.

They met later, bathing and dining as they had before. He’d requested simple food to gauge whether she would eat more, more vegetables than meat and fish where there was a need. She ate twice as much that night. Much to his delight.

She spoke to him, asking him strange questions he couldn’t quite answer. He asked her a few mindless ones in return.

“You can not possibly leave him as Sheepstealer.”

He was almost insulted that she had kept it so long as is, when the war was done he’d hoped he would’ve influenced her to change it all together.

“Sheepstealer, Killer of Dragon seeds, Veteran of the Gullet, Protected of Visenya’s Hill, Defender of the River lands. It all fits.”

It wasn’t much to be sure, but a jest from her felt like a booming laugh, an ease captured the air when she made use of it.

They quietly left after a lasted silence, him back to the room and her to her Maester.

Hours passed before he saw her again, sleeping as she had the first night, no more tears streaking down her face. She started to look more peaceful.

Miraculously, the scent of Milk of The Poppy was null. The faintest scent didn’t linger on her. He was almost tempted to lean in, to know for sure, but her small reactions to the flickering candle light was too clear that he should leave.

Going down a similar hall to see the same Maester almost felt normal now, a feeling he’d wish to disaccustom himself to as soon as he could.

“Good night, my prince. How may I help you?”

He was sat at his desk, and had addressed him standing, without looking up from the piece of parchment that stood at his desk.

“Did she take it well?”

If he were a better man he’d see the desperation behind his conversations with the Maester, to know someone who didn’t wish to be known by him, prying information away from the one person she’d talked too.

It was still better than the constant guessing game.

“Your Grace, might I speak freely?”

He peered up for the first time, exhaustion held his expression more than it ever had before.

“Of course.”

He took a seat near an abandoned shelf, waiting for what could be so necessary to draw out this proceeding.

“You should ask the girl to tell you these things.”

It was a wanting opinion to have. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t seem to like him, and he’d only just promised her a life after this circumstance. Their relationship was strained on its best day. She was argumentative, and he was stubborn and blunt.

“I wish to know that she was well.

He admitted to himself, in the comfort of his mind that he wished to seek Vhagar out by himself, put an end to this hell and send the girl back, she was old enough to grow to understand why he’d do it. She could comfort Rhaenyra and his children, convince them it was necessary, the thing he could seldom bring himself to believe.

He hardly believed it in his thoughts.

“She is, My Lord. She understands that 5 for the best and has gotten better. That is all.”

He wished him a good night before stepping away. He left the room and made it back through hers. He had realized that she had left their door open, perhaps absent-mindedly, but it was better to hope she did it on purpose. The thought danced in his mind until he fell asleep.

The next day, they had flown further until Riverrun looked for his nephew before he could strike. For the first time in weeks, they hadn’t come across piles of dead bodies left in the wake of war. It was almost a comforting sight, as plain as it was.

Nettles took to it better, making two jokes at the expense of the Tullys and himself before retreating to a quiet civility between them.

When they returned, the seamstress measured her as best as she could before Nettles had begged to leave. He was summoned by one of the errand boys to the sight of a half-naked Nettles and an overwhelmed seamstress. Rather than the expected piety, she rushed over to him, all but demanding he grant her escape.

Daemon unenthusiastically complied to what seemed a ridiculous command, choosing the fabrics, sigil and styles she’d look the most noble in, the ones that he could only assume would be practical for sheep killing and court life alike.

Then their routine had continued as it had before, she had maintained the braids like he had asked and would undo them just before bed, their door wide and unmoving in its position, the rooms almost looked like one tonight.

Her hair was raven black , tight wound coils draping until the middle of her back , it was coarser than his daughters or Laena’s, looking more like his grandmother’s rather than the others.

“Do you need help?”

His voice was softer than he cared for, but the question remained.

“Your Grace?”

She sounded utterly terrified at the suggestion. He had learned how to do it unwillingly with Rhaenyra, then refined in the Step stones before he perfected the technique with his daughters before their hair was locked in Pentos. He’d almost be hurt by the implication that he was unable.

Perhaps he had taken the maester’s words to heart, but he had helped Laenor with his hair then. He was certainly less clueless than he was then. All she’d have to do was agree.

“I do know some things.”

He admitted feeling almost naked with the anticipation of what she’d say. Surely hair wasn’t this complicated of a matter.

“If you wish.”

For the first time, her voice was almost timid, and as he walked over to her, she seemed anxious with what he’d hope was anticipation.

He’d watched her comb her hair out before asking the question. A simple court style would do.

He tried his best not to pull on her hair. Without a hairbrush, he just had to trust the tallow to secure the braids. Two at the side of her head into a bun, held by leather ribbon. The time had flown by in a comfortable silence before he was done. She didn’t say a word as he stepped away.

“Do you like it?”

He asked hesitantly, looking for any change in her, any reaction she would have.

“It’s pretty, Your Grace. Thank you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding on to.

Names and formalities

It would be a good barrier to break down, he thought as ‘Your Grace’ echoed through another conversation . It was good enough for anytime but war. He was at her side, looking for a fight to the death every day, and she wouldn’t say his name. He’d found many ways to call her in that time.

“Call me Daemon from now on Netty. It seems too formal for our day to day.”

It was a reasonable enough request he justified. What’s in a name?

“Yes, Your.., Daemon.”

It was the first time she had stumbled in their conversations. Some threshold had been crossed between them surely, but she seemed unconsciously aware of it. Her eyes had yet to meet his, seemingly avoiding him. He could tell her eyes had glazed over all the same.

“ Are you alright?”

A kind moment suddenly seemed to darken her and the room. A tear fell from her right eye, streaming down her face, followed by one from her left.

Did he make her cry?

“Nettles,”

She looked up at him wiping them away before dismissing it all together, insisting that she was only tired and that he had no need to worry for her.

For her sake he listened, he agreed and walked away, watching as she had tucked her knees beneath her chin before he left.

The next morning, she had been different towards him. She spoke and continued a long streak of questions about their day ahead. They broke fast together, over a conversation of saddles for types of dragon. He wondered if she’d ever take the opportunity to talk about herself instead.

They flew and aided who they could , returning long after dusk to a hearty meal of goose and potatoes

She hadn’t stopped talking to Ser Florian, who had chosen to join them tonight in Lord Mooton’s stead.

“A girl like you should have a dagger.”

He jested, filling his cup to the brim with sweet wine. She contemplated what he said for a moment, turning towards Daemon in the moments after.

“He says I should have a dagger.”

She almost bared the expression of a child granted permission by a parent. It was a sweeter expression from her, sweeter than any he had received before. It almost shocked him how different she appeared with it.

“He’s not the person you’d use it on.”

They had a good day, he smiled to himself at the thought before moving from it all together .

He jested to her, watching her expression sour for a moment before returning to the conversation.

It was the most he’d seen her talk in their stay.

She went to bathe after the meal leaving him and Ser Florian at the table for a moment before he felt the need to sleep.

He saw her before bed, even receiving a small good night from her before she left his room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her.

They had a good day, and he smiled to himself at the thought before moving from it all together .

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 14x02 Gods and Monsters

“Chained up in a church. Oh yeah this is normal church activity” “are we trying to find a recipe to make an angel?” “Is this like the Grey Wardens in Dragon Age?” “I don’t know if I like this title card as much” “Maybe let’s not slam our fkn laptop shut?” “fkn ominous” “I find it very hard to take Nick’s character seriously” “this is a very western Minnesota accent” “little bit closer” “Maybe Dean has a little bit of influence after all” “how unfortunate. Feel like you’d get the last name up front” “2 months ain’t too bad. That’s what? 4-6 episodes?” “doesn’t every kid say that?” “as Dean would say? Is Dean calling Cas a basic bitch?” “patience and persistence are boring” “kid just wants to slay some bitches” “I dig the suit. More of a tuxedo” “the lighting feels really off right here. Feels kinda sitcom-y” “this is the part where you kill Nick” “idk. Nick seems petty enough to the murdering type” “fun, obviously” “I want to know where she got that scar” “wood chips falling on the ground is a nice touch” “the helluva a drink? Cognac?” “just between us girls’ “Thought she said R. Kelly for a minute” “can none of them roll their collars down? Only one with a low collar is Castiel” “Cas has very good posture in that moment. He’s not always the best with his posture though” “that’s a weird stance to take” “ok” “feel like something like that you’d never forget” “so…Nick’s going to turn into the devil anyway? Typical”

“Thanks bobby” “might still want to chop their heads off” “Good enough” “somebody’s hiding a bite, I imagine” “is there any lore about evicting angels?” “what? Fkn that easy huh?” “that dude probably didn’t do it. I imagine he got paid off or something so now Nick is going to murder that guy too”