#Dragon Age Retribution

[higheverweave]

Yall im sorry I cant get Corrupted Inquisitor (Elgarnan’s champion of vengance.) out of my head

Elgarnaan once free purposefully goes after Lavellan after hearing about the skyweaver who lost everything on so many occasions

Elgarnaan uses magic to repress everything that makes the Inquisitor a hero. Elgarnaan removes regret ,remorse, guilt and sets The Inquisitor loose as his champion of Vengeance (Bonus points if mage,female or non-binary,or non human race.)

The first place the Inquisitor goes for Vengeance?… The chantry that took the most prevalent trauma of their life and exploited it for a hero story thrusting them in a position they did not ask for or consent to… derailing the life they had and replacing it with an uncertain one under public scrutiny (Again bonus points if they have their own gods.)

For corrupted Lavellan specific The Second target would be the Duke of Wycome and everyone who works for him a Clan for a Clan. (Justice under the influence of Elgarnaan.)and corrupted Lavellan is the opposite of Inquisitor Lavellan they don’t forgive the Duke of Wycome, they don’t move on they camp out in the ruins once belonging to clan Lavellan where the bodies of all they knew and loved are buried and they hunt every one of the Duke of Wycome’s men down slowly. Corrupted Lavellan makes them feel every inch of what Lavellan believed their clan would have…. corrupted Lavellan is cold tactics only… and the Duke of Wycomes men are killed on by one brutally in a way that is the opposite of the Lavellan The Inquisition knew.

For Qunari Inquisitor this would be them going after the Qun who used them as a puppet their whole lives who stripped them of thought of choice of will… Now Corrupted Inquisitor will strip them of the exact same an eye for an eye

Now Regular Human super privilege Inquisitor would go after the Exalted Council next forcibly thrust into a position they didn’t ask for to gain eyes on them they never asked for only to have these people strip it away as soon as it was given toying with the Inquisitors life again?! Then having the audacity to say that They gave the inquisition too much power…. Maybe they should learn what too much power actually is? What it feels like to have your entire life subjected to the puppet strings of another unseen hand

Corrupted Inquisitor the champion of Elgarnaan then turns their Vengeful gaze on Their shared “Enemy.” Solas/Fenharel. The corrupted Inquisitor under the influence of Elgarnaan confronts Solas on every repressed thought and memory they had on his betrayal.

For Corrupted Lavellan its worse it is so much worse because either Solas sees the love of his life or one of his closest/only friends corrupted into the opposite of everything they stood for and acting in a way that would horrify and disgust normal Lavellan It is like looking into the eyes of a stranger and he is forced to be in the position he put the Inquisitor in. Kill them to save everyone or make them remember who they are through great effort

in freeing The Inquisitor from Elgarnaans influence Solas has to confront all his own shit to help them confront theirs and break Elgarnaans hold over them

Im sorry Im a little obsessed with corrupted Inquisitor

UwU

Yall realize Solas let out Elgarnan out most likely …. Elgarnan is the god of revenge Which character in this series would have the most reason to get revenge on a large amount of people?

The Inquisitor and it works for almost every origin

Warrior Inquisitor getting revenge on mages

Qunari Inquisitor taking out years of pent up frustration at the Qun

Dwarf Inquisitor getting revenge on the cartels and gangs of the deeproads

Mage Inquisitor hunting Templars

And elvhen specific is juicy ….

Imagine Elgarnan using magic to alter Lavellan’s morals based on their pain and trauma …. Imagine Elgarnan taking away the one thing holding Lavellan back their Empathy…and ability to feel remorse

Now imagine the roles are reversed and the Inquisitor is the big bad and Solas has to stop them

[abyssal-ilk]

elgar'nan razed the island to the ground with fire for ghilan'nain's death. his anger was so strong he lashed out not only at rook and their team, but his own forces as well. he got the dagger he needed, but at what cost? the price of his sister's life? the sister that he needed to make their dream come true, for without her the dagger is simply a weapon and not an artist's tool? will be thinking about this forever.

[waspgrave]

Solas and Mythal’s relationship is that perfect blend of fucked up and tragic I have been wanting from them for a decade. The mother and her child, the two lovers, a queen and a general, the dog and its master, the servant and the lord. Love it. I knew I sensed fuckery with the way solas talked about her despite ‘burning her off his face’. Then to see him shrinking up in front of her, how he groaned ‘mythal’ in dread and even began to hold the dagger out towards her to take bc he knows he’ll do anything for her if she asks. man needs therapy for his absolutely disastrous and problematic situationship thank you for letting me watch your traumas unfold like that king

[citrusai]

gareth david-lloyd is such a wonderful voice actor. i keep rethinking of his reading of the line "i will always go where you go." and it sounds so resigned and pained, like already solas knows he is going down a path that will lead to death and horror but his friend needs him, the people need him. they need his wisdom and guidance, and he knows taking on a physical form will not only be his undoing, but that of the world as he knows it. but still he goes, because duty comes above all.

[rivilu]

One side effect of the autistic sense of justice for me is going insane over justice and vengeance as concepts in themselves whenever applicable in media.

Which unfortunately means that thinking about justice dragon age for too long (especially with the post inq takes on spirits) makes me want to rip my hair out.

[oakthcrn]

doot doot smol starter call for Lark in her DRAGON AGE VERSE.

moots only pls, and multis pls specify muse.

[arrenkae]

Anyway my dragon age conspiracy theory is that Mythal was originally meant to be a spirit of Justice/Vengeance but devs were so committed to erasing all traces of Anders from this franchise that they had to change that as well

[hungee-boy]

i know its not the best quality of hair physics out there but just the fact that bioware can do this..... huge

[attractthecrows]

everyone in thedas: abominations are horrible and evil!!!

me doodling abominations in my notebook surrounded by hearts and sparkles:

[nerdsandqueens]

Fandom is in an uproar about Epler wanting to "punch Solas in the face". But Epler and Busche discuss it no differently than fandom saying they want to punch either an "irredeemable" character in the face, or a character they love to hate. Busche seems to have a softer approach to Solas, but even she seems to view Epler's comments in good fun.

For better or worse, both of them seem to know what fandom is like by being fans themselves. I honestly think they didn't think people would react negatively to it because this is a staple of fandom behavior.

Especially in the context that Solas is supposed to come off as way more villainous than tumblr fandom takes him for.

Solas is supposed to come off as a master manipulator who is irredeemably willing to kill his friends in cold blood, judging from Epler's comments, but I think in their attempts to make him nuanced, they ended up giving him too much tragedy that overshadows his culpability. Making his narrative ultimately confusing in its tone.

[herald-divine-hell]

In 9:41, the Herald of Andraste, Alexandra Caera Trevelyan, began to preach her new Chants to southern Thedas. With the crippling of Chantry authority due to the Mage Rebellion, Orlais' fall into civil war, and Divine Justinia V's assassination, many in Thedas turned to the Herald as their new guiding light, and held fast to her as Andraste's blessed daughter, even with the passing of the Mark.

"Praise be to Your Lord and His Bride, and Their Herald, who bears the Mark, and peace be unto the Believers, who bear witness. They ask of you [Alexandra], 'Surely our Maker would not send a mage, a child nearer to damnation. Surely, he would not send the blood of the murderer that slain His Bride.' Ah, that is but only their desires! Wise is your Lord, who would send a daughter, a daughter who is blood of the two Realms, of Andraste and ancient Elvhenan, of this world and the Unseen." Wise is your Lord, who bore witness to the death of His Chosen, and has arisen something greater, more precious, and has given to all Worlds [to all the people], a gentle Mercy, a fierce Reminder." - [The Disputation, 2:1-21]1

"O', you who Believe, when you come across one of the Elvhen, be of the Dalish or of the Alienage, greet them with Peace, and say onto them, 'Our Lady remembers the Blood of Shartan, and sends Her Love onto her Daughter and onto you. Truly, she [Alexandra] is among the Blood.' [or, truly she is a part of you; or, she is part of the Elves.] Forbidden are the Believers to drink the wine of injustice. When you were of the oppress and among the lost, did your Maker not sent Guidance? Ordained onto Our Herald verily is this: when you see oppression, slay it utterly, and cast it into the Flame, so not even it's ashes can be reborn anew. A covenant is granted, to the elves and Andraste's Daughter. Restored are the Dales, and protected in trust by Andraste's Chosen, to the children of Elvhenan. Forbidden are the Lesser Thrones [Orlais, Ferelden, etc.] and Sanctified Seats [the White and Black Divines] to deny the Throne [the Maker] of anything, which They have revealed onto you [Alexandra]. Among the Elves who ascend such a covenant, with their hands clasped onto Our Herald, Our Hands are clasped onto theirs, and Truly We know what is in their hearts. So let all broken oaths before you [Alexandra] become fallen leaves cast away by the wind, and let any who make oaths, unto the Maker, and unto the Flame-veiled Bride, and Her Blessed Daughter [the Herald], and whose heart is free and aware, retain their oaths, evermore. Love and Peace and Justice and Compassion, We have ordained onto those who believe. This is the near insurmountable pass, of which we have revealed onto you. Engraved this into your hearts, for your Lord is All-Aware, All-Knowing." - [The Covenant of the Elves, 10:1-43]2

_

Note 1: The Disputation occurs when the Herald of Andraste first arrives at Val Royeux to meet and treat with the remaining Grand Clerics, which ultimately leads to the Chantry's condemnation of the Inquisition and Alexandra as heretics. Alexandra denies their claims and condemns the Chantry for denying her divinely-sanctioned role, citing the wisdom in Andraste choosing a half-elf mage to be her Herald, especially after the Mage Rebellion.

Note 2: The Covenant of the Elves occurs after the Inquisition establishes control over the Exalted Plains. Here, Alexandra reaffirms to the Dalish, and elves in southern Thedas, that the Dales belong to them, and that no nation or religious authority outside of Alexandra, as Andraste's Herald, has any right to remove the Elvish claims to the Dales, or have any right to dispute Alexandra's decisions. Alexandra also forgives any broken oaths that were made before her Heraldship, especially the commitments of the Mages to aid the Chantry and reside in the Circles. She also tactfully installs the theological belief that she must also be called upon when oaths are made. Pledging onto the Maker and Andraste is not enough. Pledging onto her as Andraste's living representative is also significant. Alexandra also discusses, briefly, on matters of ethics, referred to as the "near insurmountable pass", such as being compassionate and following justice, and that creation will struggle to follow through, but will overcome it in time.

[beeapocalypse]

do not think i have talked abt cholla here either. sphinx who was made a knight of ve-corpsis (basically just showed up demanding it and nobody was brave enough to say no because of the threat of fluisau hovering right behind them) and then went on a meandering countryside murder spree where nobody dared to strike them down for fear of divine retribution until belrath eventually confronted them + beheaded them despite fluisaus rage. had genuinely believed themself unkillable and accepted belraths challenge to a duel with a smile

[serpentface]

Dragon folklore in the Imperial Wardin region

A dragon as depicted in Wardi, Wogan, and Cholemdinae folklore

Dragon folklore is broadly similar between the three collections of human peoples who have inhabited the region since prehistory. The details of their description vary somewhat, but the core traits are the same. These dragons are described as very large birdlike creatures (standing as tall or taller than a human) with bodies like eagles, a reptilian head (usually that of a crocodile or lizard), black feathers, and trailing tail plumage. They are sometimes horned, and Wardi variants are specified as having wattles like roosters.

All variants of this folklore associates them with storms, lightning, and wildfires. They are said to only emerge during lightning storms and intentionally set grass fires in order to hunt. Some sources ascribe them power over lightning itself, which they capture in the clouds and send to the ground with the beating of their wings. Others state that they are simply immune to it. In either case, they set their tail feathers ablaze in lightning strikes, and then fly low over the ground to strategically spread the fire. They completely surround their prey with wildfire, and then circle overhead in wait until it has succumbed to the smoke and flames.

They are usually characterized as killing indiscriminately as fire itself, eating anything they can capture whether it be wild animals, livestock, or people. They have no appetite for raw meat, and will only eat burnt flesh.

These dragons rarely come down to the ground, spending most of their lives in storm clouds. They migrate along with the rains and breed in grasslands during the peak of the wet season, with female dragons laying their eggs hidden in tall grass. Dragon chicks are born with completely white feathers, which are gradually singed black with every hunt. The darker a dragon, the older and more dangerous it is.

They are generally non-personified and regarded as wild beasts, though are sometimes given a particularly vengeful nature. Stories of mother dragons burning down entire villages or towns in retribution for the death of their chicks can be found region-wide.

Wogan folklore is an exception (though this is more an aspect of a broader animistic worldview rather than a unique quality of dragons themselves), in which the dragon is personified and credited with first teaching the people how to practice controlled burns for agricultural purposes. The Wogan dragon is a very powerful and dangerous spirit and communion with it requires wisdom and caution. Many stories describe people enslaving dragons or capturing their chicks order to utilize their power to destroy enemies, only to be annihilated with fire themselves.

A dragon as depicted in the folklore of the Hill Tribes, ft. an unfortunate horse

The dragon folklore of the Highlands has some connection to the aforementioned (particularly in their association with storms) as a product of centuries of cultural interchange, but stems from a wholly separate tradition brought from overseas, bearing much in common with analogous legendary creatures in Finn and Royal Dain culture.

These dragons are heavily personified, being wholly sapient and capable of speech, and are said to be either extremely long-lived or completely immune to aging (though not immune to being killed). They are described as very large birds with the wings and bodies of eagles, the spurred legs of pheasants, the wrinkled necks of vultures, and the head and tail of a snake. Dragons are almost always red, brown, and yellow in color, resembling golden eagles (like their father). They kill prey with their venomous bite, said to be the deadliest of all animals. They are uniquely menacing to people, having little to no interest in wild prey in favor of the tender, domesticated meat of horses and cattle (or humans themselves)

Dragons are all males, and all brothers. They are the progeny of the goddess Ariakh and her spirit husband, the King of Eagles. Ariakh reproduced with her husband twice- first in the form of a human, in which she gave birth to the Winds, her four eldest sons, and second in the form of an eagle, in which she laid a clutch of eggs that hatched all dragons. These dragons are smaller and less powerful beings than their older brothers, and they're ascribed a sense of profound bitterness about this.

They are jealous and vain in nature, constantly squabbling amongst themselves for rank and admiration and menacing humans to gain recognition. Folktales often center on heroes taking advantage of their competitiveness and insecurity in order to defeat them. They occasionally play neutral or positive roles in tales, where they assist human protagonists in exchange for sabotaging one of their brothers, gifts of horsemeat, or excessive flattery.

[el-bellanaris]

One thing that really stuck with me in datv was during the regrets of the wolf series of missions was a comment made about Solas's actions from Bellara after watching the third regret.

"I mean, they were terrible. No question. But what he did? It didn't just stop them. It destroyed our culture. Our world."

Now if you agree with Solas's actions in this memory Bellara will reply with:

"Even as he destroyed my/our people's world? Locked away who we were?"

I kind of just remember being baffled here because in a previous conversation Bellara even mentioned that the old gods were like Tevinter nobles, not just pure beacons of terror and war. But then to equate the entire culture of the Elves being purely related to who leads them seems so ignorant. Both as a person generally you wouldn't really think that and as an elf in the world of Thedas it completely ignores the entire thousands of years of history to find some simple answer. Some bad guy to blame the world's problems on.

Especially as someone who played as an Elven Inquisitor, it really left me in shock. I think of my Inquisitor standing in the Dales, looking at at ruins of old Elven culture that frankly doesn't make sense to her. I understood at that point that Fen'Harel was the big bad in her own religion, that my character should feel a since of distaste at seeing his statues. But then I was confronted with dozens of statues of him, ranging from a decent size to being the size of a dragon and then to probably about 3-5 times that size sitting on top of a mountain. All of these statues gave me the sense of protection that the Dread Wolf watches over this valley. There is even a shrine to the Dread Wolf himself, something so out of my understanding of why. It felt wrong, he's the bad guy so why did the people who no longer live here revere him so much? It was only finding out that Fen'Harel was twisted in his current perception, that he was a symbol of rebellion who locked away the gods at price of retribution for his friend and in order to free the elves from their oppressors did it start to make sense.

I was Solas first. “Fen’Harel” came later... an insult I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies… not unlike “Inquisitor,” I suppose.

(Curtesy of @/daitranscripts)

He was a symbol of rebellion, an inspiration and beacon of freedom amongst the ancient elves. Much like the Inquisitor and Inquisition he became much larger then himself.

I still didn't quite understand it so I went down a rabbit hole on the wiki and through the World of Thedas book to understand exactly how everything came to be.

A general basic recap of what transpired for the Elves from the creation of the Veil until now

So in short the Veil was created before the humans arrived to Thedas, which would have been around the time Solas fell to his deep sleep. There is no exact when this happened but the human's arrival was at about -3100 Ancient and the elves first noticed the "quickening" of their lifespans in -2850 Ancient. Ancient meaning how many years before the forming of the Chantry, so about 3000 years before the first age some 950 years ago at the time of Veilguard (so in total 3950 or so years ago).

Sorry going on a tangent but I find this difference in time interesting, I wonder if the ancient Elves started to notice their children and children's children aging and dying quickly and how horrific that must have been to watch.

Back to the timeline, so Arlathan was eventually conquered by the Tevinter Imperium around -975 Ancient resulting in the Elves becoming slaves to Tevinter until the first Exalted March led by Andraste herself and assisted by Shartan, an Elven man who led the Elven slaves against the Imperium around the year -180 to -170 Ancient.

The result of this long war was the Elves were granted the Dales in the year -165 Ancient to make their own and were free from the hands of oppression once more. They founded the city of Halamshiral - meaning the end of the journey, and lived in their new home whilst keeping human contact low through the protection of their own legion called the Emerald Knights.

This didn't last forever, eventually the first Emperor of Orlais during the first age united Orlais through making the Chantry and their worship of Andraste the official religion. This created unrest between the humans and Elves as they still clung unto their old gods. I'm not going to go into it too deeply but after tensions rose, the second blight happening and a rumours of human sacrifice from the elves to find some answer to the blight the Exalted March of the Dales was declared between 2:10 and 2:20 Glory (700 years before the events of the games). This holy war ended in the Elves losing their second homeland and resulted in:

The creation of alienages for Elves to live in human cities where they were often treated as second class citizens and left to be servants to the humans.

The formation of the Dalish, nomadic Elves who did not want to live under human rule and clung onto what little scraps of their ancient culture they could

The ban of the worship of the Elven pantheon, resulting in city Elves who live in alienages to forget their own history and the Dalish living in rebellion of the Chantry

The erasure of Shartan throughout the Chantry teachings of their own history

So after a good 700 years the Dalish living amongst themselves seemingly started to misunderstand their own history and twisted the fall of the Evanuris to portray Fen'Harel as the bad guy. It seems that the Elves of the Dales remembered enough but during the separation of the Elves into small clans this all changed.

In summary, after 2000 years without godly interference from Solas or anyone else, the Elves survived on their own with new lifespans and then spent about 800 years enslaved by humans. Then founded a new second homeland that inevitably fell after nearly 400 years and was forced to live in tiny groups failing to ever grasp at power.

So back to the events of the game

The game wants us to just believe that all of that history is somehow purely the fault of one man, who sought after the end of a long tyrannical rule of Elgarnan and wished purely for the freedom of his people. Something they succeeded in having for a decent amount of time but ultimately it was the human's greed and eventually arrogance over their own religion that led to the downfall of the Elves and the complete eradication of their own culture.

Solas sees this world as a mistake, the result of a terrible decision and after learning about everything that has transpired in the Elves long bloody history I can sympathise with his thought process. I could not imagine waking up to seeing how the world had torn to shreds my own people's culture and then seeing them forced to live in small groups without ever being able to actually know their own history. Tearing the Veil isn't a good idea and I think Solas is short sighted for thinking it would simply fix anything but I can understand that he wants to give his people back some scrap of power.

He's mourning so much loss and has to live in a world that is is happy to exist on the graves of his people. There is not a single living being at the point of Inquisition that could understand his thoughts (some of that is his fault as he murdered Fallassan). I can understand why the Inquisition could not change his mind at that point, it's difficult to just say don't do it when you don't really understand the weight of his choice and how much it this world existing must utterly destroy Solas, and how in order to keep going he has to think about it all an end to a means. How else can he keep swimming in the same water that must drown him with his own existence.

So I don't exactly understand Bellara's way of thinking here, she is Dalish and cares so deeply about the history of her people but lacks the basic understanding of her people's history which is largely at fault of the humans and the Chantry. She wants to learn so much from reading the books in Solas's home and fixing the archive spirit but doesn't seem to understand the world she is living in right now and how it came to be. Being Dalish would mean she should know about the stories of her people at the very least. She is presumedly from a clan that resides near Arlathan or just generally in the North of Thedas so surely she should know about Tevinter and their bloody history and she would hopefully understand the results of the Exalted March on the Dales.

It truly bothers me as someone who played Inquisition right before Veilguard. How I spent so much time immersing myself into the world as an Elf and had to really come face to face with the build up and tearing down of my own understanding of the world and what that meant for my Inquisitor. Now a lot of this information is pulled from a 3rd party source (The World of Thedas Vol 1) So it's hard to say that the Inquisitor would know every detail written here but the Inquisitor is a leader, a person who was thrust into a role by the Chantry to help people and travels the world. She knows what the difference between herself and the City Elves are. She knows how the Elves are treated in Orlais and Tevinter both from personal experience as being served at Halamshiral and shown in a conversation with Dorian.

We… don’t have Dalish clans coming northward… for obvious reasons.

(Dorian when discussing the background of the Inquisitor if the player character is Dalish in Inquisition)

So surely from this, Bellara should know that being Dalish it just isn't safe to live in certain parts of this world because she is simply not welcome and will be treated like barely a person. But this one line just completely derails her as a person, how can someone so obsessed with her own people's history just not understand exactly what history is. It isn't the results of leaders and and major world ending events, it's the little actions of so many individuals that create the world state as it is right now. And even these actions of leaders are still built up from the help of others. The Inquisitor succeeded because their cause was assisted by so many people. Rook wouldn't have succeeded against fighting the gods and winning if not for the direct help of dozens of people but suddenly about 4000 years of history is the result of one man's actions?

Solas locked away the gods yes, but all he did was destroy the current political system at the time. Killing a King, Empress or Archon would not erase the entire culture of the people they led. It would simply mean a position has opened up. Yes this would leave the people in disarray but the people are still alive, their culture would not be instantly forgotten. Creating the veil fundamentally altered the entire world but that still does not equal the destruction of the Elven culture.

Now I love Bellara so much as a character but as someone who became so obsessed with the history of the Elves because of Inquisition this just feels like such a shallow attempt at making us have a reason to hate Solas while fundamentally not understanding your own character.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (17)

The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys

After being reunited after so long, Aemond has one request of Arianwyn: to read him a story.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn could have spent the rest of her life with her face pressed against Aemond’s cheek, savoring the feeling of his strong arms around her and inhaling his familiar scent of parchment and steel – now laced with brimstone. But the commotion from the Velaryon arrival was fading, and she knew the crowd’s attention would soon be drawn to the prince openly embracing a young lady in a way that was not entirely proper. She opened her eyes and pulled away from him. Still, he did not break contact, keeping his arms firmly around her waist.

As expected, those in the training yard and on the ramparts were staring at them—knights, courtiers, servants… and her stepbrothers.

Luke still cowered behind his brother, fearful now that the uncle he mutilated had become such a fierce warrior. Jace was far less intimidated. His stare was filled with the promise of retribution, and Arianwyn knew that as soon as he had the chance, he would report everything he had seen to Daemon.

Desperate to escape those dark, prying eyes, Arianwyn shyly looked back up at Aemond. “Do you need to return to your training?” she asked, “I believe Ser Criston is waiting for you.”

For a moment, she thought Aemond would not respond. He just stood there, looking at her as if she were some mythical being. Like he wasn’t entirely convinced she was real. “No,” he said, his voice low and soft, a rich sound that seemed to rumble through Arianwyn’s chest like thunder through the sky. “I have been here since dawn; I am long overdue for a break.”

With that, he took her hand and surged up the stairs, pulling her with him into the passageways of the Red Keep. Arianwyn was so delighted to be with him again, her jubilant laughter echoing off the stone walls, that she did not realize where he was leading her until they came to the door.

Her door.

She released her hand from Aemond’s and laid it on the dark wood. “Why have you brought me here?” she asked, tracing the runes they had carved into the door years ago to ward off monsters and spirits.

Aemond was nearly silent beside her, but she felt his presence as if it were the air she breathed. A heavy but welcome weight upon her heart – a perfect embrace. “They are your rooms. I thought you would be eager to see them again.”

She turned back to him and could not suppress her smile. After all these years, they were together again. They stood before the rooms in which they spent half of their youth. It felt like it was meant to be. As if they were always fated to be here again.

“Surely they belong to someone else now,” she said. “It has been eight years.”

A subtle smile spread across his lips, not the broad, toothy grin she remembered as he reached around her to open the door. Then, he stepped back and motioned for her to enter. She did so hesitantly, half-expecting them to be walking in on some stranger’s afternoon tea.

They did not.

Her solar looked precisely as she remembered it.

The same furniture, the same curtains and tapestries. Her old cloak, made of thick brown wool and lined with bear fur, was still draped over her favorite reading chair. Two ancient bronze swords, their fullers engraved with Runes, still hung above the fireplace. Hanging from their handles, tied with faded green ribbon, were scraps of parchment bearing Aemond’s writing – the translation of the Runes they had written years ago.

Arianwyn approached the mantle, reaching out to read the note written in Aemond’s youthful scrawl. The paper was brittle with age, but the ink had not faded. When she tied them on so many years ago, she had not realized that he had drawn a figure, whom she could only assume was the prince himself, wielding the blades as he defended a long-haired maiden from some shapeless beast.

“How?” she asked, unable to tear herself from the artwork.

Aemond came to her side, the space between them sizzling like air broken by dragonfire. “Ser Gerold wanted to empty it and bring everything back to Runestone after he and Lady Arryn failed to secure your release. I would not allow it,” he murmured. “Though he and mother lost hope after that, I knew that eventually, you would return to me… and to all of us.”

She, at last, looked away from the note but remained with her back to Aemond as she stared into the long-cold ashes in the fireplace. “I came close to losing hope as well.” So many times throughout those years, she would fall into loneliness and despair, and not even Brynna or Ser Adrew could draw her out. “I would have, were it not for your letters.”

Knowing that he was still out there, that he still thought of her each day and cared enough to send long, thoughtful letters even when he was infirm, was like the sun breaking through dark, stormy clouds. Each piece of fine parchment bearing his seal was a lifeline she clung to, each one still resting in a trunk in her tower, just below her favorite window. She would read them so often, not only for the lack of books at Dragonstone but –

“What is that?” As she turned to face him, her eyes were drawn to the far corner of the solar, where her bookshelves had once been. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were still there, only now buried within a massive pile of neatly stacked books so high it nearly reached the ceiling.

“That,” Aemond said, setting his hands on her shoulders and leading her across the room, “is eight years of reading for you to catch up on.”

“You cannot be serious!” Arianwyn let out a barking laugh as she craned her neck to take in the entire pile. It was so tall that she would not be able to reach half the books without assistance from someone taller. She took a step back, coming to rest against Aemond’s chest. “You’ve read all of this since I’ve been gone?”

“I’ve read more,” he replied with a smug smile that she could not see but heard in the lilt of his voice. “These are just those I thought you would like, or wanted to discuss with you, or… what I wanted to hear you read aloud.”

At that, Arianwyn turned to face him, the corner of her mouth quirking/”::: up in a wicked grin. She raised her brows in an expression of mock pity. “Are you still struggling with the big words?”

Aemond did his best to scowl at her, but it quickly faltered and morphed into that new small smile of his. “Not for years, Aria.”

Her laughter faded when he laid a hand on her waist, guiding her backward until she was pressed against the wall of books, and he raised one hand above her head. He was so close – their lips so near to meeting. All she had to do was lift her chin ever so slightly.

But before she could truly consider doing so, Aemond pulled away. He held a small grey book, a ribbon hanging from within. He tugged on it, coaxing it open to the page he had marked. “Some stories require your voice to do them justice.”

Arianwyn glanced down at the book. It was a collection of Valyrian myths, illustrated with lovely gilt illuminations. She did not recognize the title, The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys.

“Will you read it to me?” Aemond asked, as reverently as if it were a prayer.

Entranced by the intensity of his gaze, Arianwyn nodded. She slipped past him and walked to the velvet couch where they had often read together. The fabric had faded slightly but was kept clean enough. She sat in her usual place on the right, where she so often laid her head against the armrest while commanding Aemond what to write down.

After a moment spent simply staring at her, Aemond sat in his place on her left.

The air between them – smaller than she had remembered – crackled with something that would only take a single spark to ignite as she opened the book once more. Then, with one more furtive glance at Aemond, Arianwyn began to read:

“The island of Aethios was one of the greatest jewels of the Valyrian Freehold. The sands of the beaches sparkled as if made from pure gold, the forests lush and green, and the dragons raised on its shores grew large and strong.

This paradise was ruled by the dragonriders of House Cephaeos. Its Lords ruled wisely and justly for hundreds of years, making the island the greatest power in the Narrow Sea. It was even said by some that the Cephaeosi had made a deal with the Merling King to ensure the tides were always in their favor, for no man alive could remember a ship bearing its blue-scaled sails ever meeting a bitter end. 

But so many years of good fortune so easily won often breed weak leaders. At the height of Aethios’ power, its throne fell to Lord Aeravon – whose most demanding trial came when he had to settle a dispute over the ownership of four crab traps. He was a boastful man, certain that the glory and honor won by his ancestors was also his to bear.

One day, Aeravon was feeling particularly prideful and boasted to his court that so great was the might of House Cephaeos that even the smallest of his family’s dragons – a young beast with scales the white of sea foam which his daughter had only just taken to wing – could surely best and devour any of the Merling King’s monsters.

The court fell silent. Surely their Lord would not be so foolish as to provoke the wrath of the Merling King? Aeravon’s advisors begged him to rescind his words, but it was too late.

A great wave, taller than the topless towers of Valyria itself, crashed over the castle, bringing the pale stone roof down upon Aeravon’s court. Then, the Merling King himself stood before Aeravon’s throne.

“Your tongue wags with dangerous words, boy,” the Merling King said, pointing his three-pronged spear at the prideful Lord. “You have no respect for the sea which I command nor for my children who you now insult without shame. For this, you must pay a price equal to the offense. Bring forth the dragon of which you speak, and we shall see how it fares against the youngest of my children.”

The Lord’s daughter, Aeremys, pleaded with her father to beg the forgiveness of the Merling King so he would spare her beloved dragon, but he ignored her desperate cries. He had been issued a challenge in his own castle, and his pride would not let him refuse.

The young dragon was brought to the throne room bound in heavy chains. The pitiful beast trembled in fear along with its rider when the Merling King lifted a clawed hand to summon his child.

The court cried out when one massive webbed foot, the size of a fishing boat, seized the side of the cliffs behind Aeravon’s throne. Another followed, and the blood-red head of the Caetus came into view. It loosed a horrible roar from its mouth, filled with jagged teeth longer than ballista bolts. The ladies of the court fainted as the beast hauled its enormous body over the edge of the cliff, propelling itself towards the castle with startling speed.

All that is, except for Aeremys, who continued to cry out for her poor dragon. As the creature was devoured, chains and all, by the fearsome Caetus, it was said that her wail shattered every piece of glass on the island.

Lord Aeravon looked on with unbridled terror at the dreadful might of even the Merling King’s youngest. His skin paled as white as his hair when the Merling King again pointed his spear at him.

“Foolish man,” the Merling King said. “To think that your feeble beasts could pose a threat to my children. You and your people will suffer for your vanity.”

Even Aeravon cried when the Caetus reached out and grabbed Aeremys, carrying her away from the castle and the island as quickly as it arrived.

“You shall watch as your innocent child is devoured by my waters,” the Merlin King decreed. “Only when your heart is broken, and you cry out to your fickle gods to save you, will I grant you the mercy of death. You. Your family. Your people. Your very island shall fall to my power.”

The ground beneath the island rumbled, and great spouts of water began to spray from the cracks in the throne room tile. But Aeravon was blind to the suffering of his people. All he could see was the stone pillar that had emerged from the sea, where his beloved daughter lay naked and chained, exposed to the roiling storm that had formed around the island.

He cried to the gods, begging them to spare her, begging them to spare him and his people and the island of his ancestors. They did not listen.

Aeremys resigned herself to a painful death, anticipating the sting of salt water in her lungs or the burn of lightning on her skin. But death did not come.

Her eyes, which she had kept tightly closed since the slimy hands of the Caetus closed around her, opened to find the rain falling upon her had ceased. Instead, she beheld the gleaming silver scales of the largest dragon she had ever seen, set aglow by the light of the storm.

Astride the dragon’s back was a fearsome warrior she had met once before. Gahaelon of House Belaerys, The Silver Knight of Valyria, who had flown the entirety of the world atop his steed, Tyvaros. There was no monster he could not slay.

As if it sensed the prowess of the new arrival, the Caetus again emerged from the sea, diving with an open mouth towards Gahaelon and his dragon.

“Dracarys!” Gahaelon shouted, and his dragon obeyed. A great cone of white flame enveloped the monster, boiling the water from its very blood. As the Caetus wailed for its father to save it, Tyvaros charged, allowing Gahaelon to carve it from tooth to tail with his greatsword, Aemandra.

Before the two halves of the beast could fall into the water, Gahaelon leaped from Tyvaros’ back, using the bloodied sword to cleave Aeremys’ chains and set her free. He held her close as he wrapped her in his cloak to hide her nakedness before mounting them both upon Tyvaros.

“Come, let us save your father!”

“No!” Aeremys replied. “He has made his choice. Let him suffer the consequences.” Gahaelon needed no convincing beyond the rage he found in her eyes.

The Merling King watched as the silver dragon flew away from his storm. Though he mourned the loss of the Caetus, he remembered how Aeremys begged her father to apologize and how she cried when her dragon was devoured. He watched as Gahaelon gently kissed the tears from her cheeks with a love the Merling King had not felt in millennia. Such a love deserved mercy, he resolved.

Then, the Merling King unleashed his ultimate wrath on the island of Aethios, reducing it and its people to stones and sand that sunk to the bottom of his sea.”

Aemond barely heard the story, though he knew Aria read it beautifully. She always did. But as she read, she had shifted closer and closer to him, and he to her. He could focus on little else but the way her head rested on his shoulder, his chin nestled in her hair.

She froze momentarily as if she, too, realized how dangerously close they were. Yet she didn’t pull away.

Emboldened, he slowly moved the arm he had slung over the back of the couch down until his hand was on her waist. She did not hesitate to lean back into his chest. Though his heart raced, and he was sure she could feel it, Aemond felt calmer and more at ease than he had in years.

“I never thanked you for the book of Runes you sent,” Aria whispered as she let the book fall into her lap.

Aemond took her hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “There is no need to thank me, Aria,” he kept his voice soft, too, as if any noise may shatter the small piece of paradise they found themselves in. “If anything, I should be the one to thank you for the gift you gave me.”

“Do you have it with you?” She looked up at his eyepatch as if she could see what lay beneath.

“I do,” he answered, though he was unsure if he wanted to show her. The last time she had seen what remained of his eye, she had fainted. He did not want her to be as afraid of him as so many were.

But then she looked at him with those perfect silver eyes brimming with fondness and reached with hesitant fingers for the edge of his scar. “Can I see it?”

How could he deny the woman he loved? How could he ever think she could fear him? Keeping one arm around her waist, he reached for the patch.

The moment his fingers touched the leather, the door to the room swung loudly open.

In an instant, Aemond realized how they must look, entangled in each other, alone in an empty room. Suddenly desperate to protect her reputation, he hastily uncoiled his arm from her waist and stood from the couch, leaving Arianwyn dazed by his sudden retreat.

Turning to the door, he was greeted by a smiling Queen Alicent, followed by Helaena and her children.

Perfect timing, he thought wryly as he forced an innocent smile to his face.

[lesbiansforboromir]

Anyway um. The general narrative position of Orzammar in Veilguard makes me want to throw up blood <3

And like the argument can of course be made that it is being percieved through a very biased lense, Kal-Sharok has held this grudge for nearly a thousand years now and therefore obviously are going to percieve themselves as the more morally pure culture in comparison. And Lace is a surface dwarf who really knows nothing about Orzammar except for the discrimination she has encountered when interacting with it. Okay, sure, Dragon Age has always somewhat awkwardly attempted to be an entirely unreliable-lore tale, nothing can be taken without a grain of salt etc etc.

So I suppose my main grief and agony is more with the DECISION to make these people the only ones who get to say anything about Orzammar in this, the final reveal of the true crushing extent of the Dwarven tragedy!!!! I have spent literal decades within the understanding that Orzammar is living on borrowed time, like pretty much every codex entry written by a dwarf about themselves mentions the 'long struggle' that will eventually be lost, the darkspawn will someday claim Orzammar too and with nothing of the Deep Roads left to conquer they will finally surge to the surface and begin the endless blight. Orzammar was made the unwilling blockade for the surface against the darkspawn.

And now we find out?? That the thing that was going to be the death of them, that has been eating away at the dwarven people for millenia, the cause of a thousand thousand horrors and griefs and terrible choices and screams in the lonely dark- That was the very thing they were begging to protect them!!! Stone protect me, Stone keep me, Stone's blessings to you, she encircles us and we must protect her here where darkness meet's light- but they were not protecting her!! And she wants them all to be consumed by the tide of her righteous retribution, for forgetting her, for using her, for building their civilisation upon the wreckage of her and leaving her trapped and alone in a purgatory between life and death, between existence and absence, cut off from they who made her whole and yet they thrive and she is left behind.

But they didn't know! They don't remember! All the dwarves have been doing for generation upon generation is unconsciously trying to clumsily recreate that lost soulful feeling of being part of a cohesive whole, Solas literally calls them 'the severed arm of a once mighty hero, lying in a pool of blood' (biting him biting him biting him b-) but the point is they were also traumatised by the loss and have spent ages and ages just trying to figure out how to exist without like... THEIR CONTEXT!! Their dreams!! Like Dwarves ARE STILL part of the Titans, evidenced by the fact that when the Titans lost their dreams so did all the dwarves, even those born post the calamity, they just are disjointed, disassociated!!!

... But Orzammar is just a stupid, hidebound, oppressive, politically-putrified, 'immoral' city of people whose perspective on all this is ergo completely superfluous, uninteresting and unimportant. And Kal-Sharok (who are just sooo morally pure they're making all the GOOD choices and don't have any prejudice in them at all and their own tragedies only drove them towards good things so I guess it was good Orzammar cut them off after all???) Well they apparently already know most of it anyway and they're ready to move on and grow and learn and it's all just so neat and clean and no dwarf who venerates and loves the Stone has any catastrophic or ugly feelings about this whatsoever! Orzammar APPARENTLY doesn't even care so yaaay how cool wow that's so cool an entire culture just doesn't care about their religion and it's origin? They just don't care? Haha! They just don't care! They're probably even suppressing it for evil oppressive reasons, completely ignoring the fact that even the Casteless have a relationship to the stone, wow! That's so compelling haha! I hate it when societies have to actually struggle with something or when religion is important to people, booo imagine... imagine......