#I promise not to tell Varric you love his books

[imdoingaokay]

R!DAI Companions + Advisors with an Inquisitor that wants a baby (and/or is pregnant)

Hey guys, I'm alive. This is something I've had for a while, and it's also the longest post I've made. So... yeah. Sorry I don't post all that much, I promise I'm trying.

Anyways, enjoy this self-indulgent fluff piece that I've been working on.

This had every companion, romanced except for Cole, Leliana, and Vivienne (so that means you get romanced Varric in this, you're welcome.)

HEAVY SPOILERS AHEAD! And slight NSFW, nothing too bad, just Bull being sex-positive.

TOKOPHOBIA WARNING

It started innocently enough, the Inquisitor would wander around Skyhold, visiting their friends and lover, just to check in (or give their lover a smooch.) Then a squeal of delight was heard, probably by everyone from Undercroft to the Rookery, that came from the Inquisitor. What they were squealing and cooing about? A baby. A chubby, chortling baby a pilgrim had brought to Skyhold that the Inquisitor had practically stumbled into. The Inquisitor was so enamored with the child, that they ended up spending the rest of the day wandering around Skyhold with the little one.

Then it got worse.

Parents, unable to resist the temptation of the Inquisitor offering to take their little ones for a stroll while they got some well-deserved rest, happily gave the Inquisitor their children. The children that did get babysat by the Inquisitor had far more fun than expected, walking along the battlements, eating a meal or two curated by the Inquisitor, and even being told stories of their exploits. The children of Skyhold grew to adore the Inquisitor, and the Inquisitor adored them in turn.

Soon enough, The Inquisitor became often sidetracked while on missions (more so than usual.) They would stop in their tracks to hold up a trinket or a flower and smile to themselves, telling their companions how they intended to give whatever they held to a specific child. By the time the mission was over, the Inquisitor had lined their pockets with various items to give to the children. 

All of this led to the Inquisitor’s friends and/or lover asking “why?” To which the Inquisitor looked them dead in the eye and shrugged.

“I want a baby of my own.”

Blackwall/Thom Rainier: 

Platonic: Blackwall shrugs, he gets it. The kids are cute. And it’s far more healthy for the Inquisitor to spend time taking care of other people’s children rather than go out and just… have one. 

Not like he wouldn’t mind, Uncle Rainier sounds like a nice title, right? Hopefully, The Inquisitor wants a hand-carved cradle when they have their child.

Romanced: He goes “Uh… is that… something you… want to do… now?” Rainer never truly saw himself settling down officially. He didn’t think he truly deserved that. But the idea of having a few kids? With the woman he loves? Top-tier fantasy in his book. And now with his true identity out of the way, he feels a little better about his future. Especially with his lover.

He needs to hear his lover say “not right now” because he would be more than happy to give his Inquisitor a few kids, and he wouldn’t have the mental strength to say no if they asked. 

Now if his lover does, by some chance, get pregnant. He’s over the moon. He fights harder, and faster, always eager to end Corypheus and retire. He’s such a sappy guy too, always wanting to stay as close as possible to his lover. So one should expect him to personally request that he be sent out all the time with The Inquisitor. That man has a nursery ready to go by the time The Inquisitor’s ready to give birth. He carves a cradle, high chairs, and everything the baby could need. He’s willing to build a palace with his two bare hands for his family.

Cassandra: 

Platonic: She gets it. Kids are super cute, why not have a few? If she didn’t become a seeker, she knows she would have a few of her own, whether she wanted to or not. But hopefully, the Inquisitor isn’t planning on having any now. Like… now, now. Because the Inquisition still needs them, she still needs them.

If The Inquisitor ends up pregnant or their partner ends up pregnant, she gets furious. She chews them out a little, claiming how immature they are for bringing a child into the world when the world is in so much turmoil. 

She calms later, especially when the child is born, recognizing the love The Inquisitor and their partner show for the child. She doesn’t apologize, as she’s still pissed, but she does adore the child.

Romanced: “Oh.” She says before her face goes completely red. She’ll have to pull them aside and talk about their future together. She’s honestly flattered when the Inquisitor claims they want to have children with her. She’d be a liar if she said she didn’t want kids of her own, especially with the Inquisitor, but the both of them ought to know that they can’t… not yet… anyways. But once all the rifts are closed and they have some more time for themselves, then… then, yeah. Yeah, she would like that.

Maker, help her if she ends up pregnant, she’ll be extremely stressed, for both her and her lover’s sake. One should expect her to refuse to go out on missions until the baby is born, and expect her to be furious when her lover goes too.

Cole: He understands, mainly because he read the Inquisitor’s mind, but he understands deeper than that. He thinks the Inquisitor would be an excellent parent, especially with how they treat him (if high affinity.) He holds a great deal of respect for them, and he knows that their heart is full of a very fluffy, wholesome type of love. One that Cole is more than happy to reciprocate. 

If the Inquisitor does end up having children, Cole is a very willing babysitter, as he doesn’t sleep and he’s able to tell what exactly a baby wants.

Cullen Rutherford: 

Platonic: Cullen furrows his brow before his gaze softens. He understands, he does. The thought of a little house, a family dog, and the sounds of little feet pittering against the floorboards, it’s nice. But that life is… unachievable, especially for a man like him. A man who is so busy, who has no right to live such a dreamy life. But The Inquisitor? They deserve that. They truly do.

He doesn’t need to ask if they mean right then and there, he knows what they mean and that they don’t intend on bringing in a child just yet.

“You would be wonderful.” He says, placing a comforting hand on their shoulder

If the Inquisitor ever ends up pregnant, Cullen won’t be able to stay very calm at all. He encourages the Inquisitor to stay behind in Skyhold but gives up when the Inquisitor becomes stubborn. He eventually has to turn to Leliana or Cassandra for help.

Romanced: It’s a simple desire, to have children. And Cullen’s had it every once in a while, like when he was in Kirkwall and saw a small child toddle towards another templar. He watched his colleague’s wife follow after the child, about to scold the babe for interrupting their father in the middle of work. The templar, instead, scooped the child up in his arms and showered the child’s pudgy face in kisses. That domestic bliss was something Cullen found himself longing for. But he was too busy, life was too busy. And then The Chantry exploded, and he was in The Inquisition… he couldn’t think about that. Not until he met his Inquisitor. Now he imagines what life will be like after the pair are finished. If The Inquisitor has already affirmed that they aren’t leaving him, Cullen’s willing to have a family with The Inquisitor, as long as the two are finished with Corypheus first.

But if life finds a way… he’s happy and nervous. He begs his lover to stay behind in Skyhold, terrified of the billion things that could go wrong. Of course, rifts must be closed, so, against his better judgment, he lets her go.

His dreams get progressively worse when she’s away, it was always like that… but the dreams are worse when she’s pregnant. It gets to a point where he goes weeks without sleep, aside from the occasional nap that he gets jolted up from. The second his lover is back, Cullen whisks her away from the War Room and ushers her back to her quarters, where he has a healer check on her and the baby. Once he is certain she is fine, and the sun has gone down, Cullen lays down next to his lover and passes out into a dreamless slumber.

Dorian Pavus: 

Platonic: “Oh that is hilarious.” He laughs before his smile falls, “Wait you’re serious?”

He listens to his friend, but worriedly reminds them how dangerous it is to bring a child into the world, especially with the Inquisitor in such a highly scrutinized role.

If the Inquisitor assures him that they don’t plan on having kids just yet, he’s relieved, but secretly disappointed. He does like babies… when they’re not puking or pooping.

Now if the Inquisitor is planning on having a child or is already pregnant, he’s ecstatic. He’s all over that and can’t wait until the baby comes. The man buys cribs, toys, parenting books, and much more. Don’t be surprised if he gets a “world’s best uncle” wine glass or something.

Romanced: He jokes, “We could just adopt, I’m sure there are plenty of little Tevinter babies that need two insanely beautiful fathers.”

Now, he is joking, but he’s secretly terrified. But not because he’s worried he’ll be a lousy father or anything, he knows he’ll be different from his father. But, the thought of having kids is something he always knew he was going to do. And then everything happened with his father and his Amatus, and now he feels like… he has a choice? He can say no. He can say yes. He can adopt, or have a surrogate. He doesn’t have to fit into the status quo anymore.

But what if something happens? What if something goes wrong? What if he isn’t able to provide for his child the way they deserve?

It takes some talking down from his Amatus for him to truly relax. The two will need to speak about what they both plan future-wise. And while Dorian may not follow the same ideals as most of Tevinter, he still plans on putting a ring on it before they have kids. After all, they have to have some decorum. But, he also wants to get married because he does love his Amatus and marriage just makes things feel more official.

Iron Bull: 

Platonic: He likes kids, so he gets it, too. He may not outright encourage it, but he assures the Inquisitor how great of a parent they’ll be. Now, if the Inquisitor does end up pregnant, he’s overjoyed… on their behalf… not, like, because he wants to be called an uncle or something… (he wants to be called “uncle” very badly)

He makes the kid an honorary member of the Chargers and attempts to make the little one a onesie that has an embroidered “Bull’s Chargers” lettering on the front.

It takes him all of the pregnancy, but once the baby is born the child has a lovely little onesie that looks incredible. He won’t admit it, but that embroidery took way too long than anyone expected.

Romanced: “We can make that work.” He smiles. Honestly, he assumes that The Inquisitor might have some sort of kink. He’s more than happy to oblige. If the Inquisitor doesn’t clarify what they desire, claiming that they want a baby, Bull watches them closer. He notices small things that make him draw his conclusions. The way his lover holds a small child, how they speak to them, and how sad they look when they have to hand over the child to their parents at the end of the day. He will bring it up in the next few days, and eventually ask them if they want to be parents together, once everything is handled. He wouldn’t mind a kid or two, if his kadan wants it, Bull knows his kadan would be one hell of a parent.

Maker help him if The Inquisitor ends up pregnant, he’s so happy he can’t bother himself by being nervous. Just kidding, he’s super nervous. The Qun doesn’t have fathers, how the hell is he supposed to be there for his kid when he has no idea what kids need?

He needs constant reassurance and ends up going to Krem for advice on taking care of children. Krem had siblings, so he should know… right?

He has his game face on by the time The Inquisitor has the baby, Bull read every single book on childbirth, so he’s basically an expert. He’s all about that counter pressure and breathing techniques, so much so that the midwives are impressed themselves.

Josephine Montilyet: 

Platonic: She sighs, one of those dreamy sighs, “Oh I completely understand, well… a little bit. I’m sure having children is much different from having siblings, so I’m certain it’s better.” 

She knows the Inquisitor isn’t going just to waltz off and get pregnant or get someone else pregnant. But she does clarify if they want a child right then and there. If they say that they intend to have a child as soon as possible, she may faint.

She’s stressed if the Inquisitor or their partner ends up with a child, and gently encourages the pair to get maybe married. Less of a reputation sting that way. If they refuse, she mentally prepares herself for questions from nobles and a few Orlesian nobles who were interested in The Inquisitor themselves.

Romanced: She smiles, “I would… like that.” She says. She’s come from a big family, Josephine would be a liar if she said she didn't want to have a big family of their own. But then she proceeds to clarify “not right now.”

“I do think about children, but you and I both know what a terrible idea it would be to bring them into their lives now." She also clarifies that she intends to cross a few relationship milestones too.

Leliana: A decade younger, Leliana would’ve been right next to The Inquisitor, cooing over the children they affectionately spoke so much about. But Leliana was older… and admittedly more cynical now. It didn’t help that Leliana was now a spymaster in the Inquisition.

“I… understand, but do try to resist any temptation that points you towards… having any children at the moment.” She says plainly.

Maker helps Leliana if The Inquisitor has children with their partner. She’ll end up frustratingly baby-proofing the entirety of Skyhold.

She’s happy when she finally meets the baby, and she can’t help but soften for a little while as she gazes down at the newborn. Her faith somehow returns and any doubts she had over the Maker disappear, as if there was no Maker, how could something so perfect exist? At least, she thinks that until someone looks at her, then she’s all business again.

Sera: 

Platonic: Not interested, or at least, the statement doesn’t faze her. Why would such a badass want little kids? Snotty… annoying… chubby cheeked… super cute- okay, she gets it.

She tells her friend they would probably be a good parent, but would also totally not believe the Inquisitor if they were pregnant or got their partner pregnant. It would only be until she saw The Inquisitor or their partner’s bump that she would accept that maybe they were having a baby.

She loves the kid like a sibling and often offers to make cookies for the baby, not realizing that the baby cannot have solid food for the first few months. She counts down the days when she can goof around with the kid on her own, whenever that might be.

Romanced: Laughs for a while, only to pause when she sees the serious look on her lover’s face. 

“You’re serious? You want…” She thinks for a moment before laughing again, “Yeah… I’d want that too! We’d be great mums!” She giggles.

She’s super on board, and would be the “fun mom.” This means The Inquisitor would be the one that would have to discipline the children. But aside from that, Sera’s all over having kids.

Solas: 

Platonic: High approval Solas would approve, he would nod and tell The Inquisitor that they would be an excellent parent, that they have the wisdom and patience that would be fit for a parent. He advises them to wait, first, as having a child while Corypheus is still at large is a terrible idea.

Low approval, he kind of just nods. He tells them that they should wait if they intend to have a child, as it’s a bad idea. He doesn’t do much else, no encouragement, just a simple shrug, and sigh. He doesn’t care.

Regardless of approval, if the Inquisitor or their partner ends up pregnant, and Solas is still there, he sort of freaks out. His main concern is the mark and its effect on the child, but once that’s ruled out, he still feels guilty. Hopefully, he leaves before the child is born. Because he cracks when he sees them for the first time. Does he really have it in him to end the world when someone as pure and untouched as that child exists? 

It takes some deliberation, but he does. And he leaves, praying he never meets the child ever again.

Romanced: He pauses, were they… serious?

Solas can’t help himself but imagine a life with his vhenan, away from responsibilities, with a few children surrounding the pair. He’d be a liar if that lovely thought didn’t cross his mind when he would steal gazes at his vhenan, but… that’s all it was… right? A thought.

He claims that his vhenan would be an excellent parent, but also ensures that he doesn’t want children, not before Corypheus is defeated. But maybe it’s an accident. He breaks his rule of not sleeping with Lavellan under false pretenses. Once his vhenan is pregnant, his actions depend on The Inquisitor’s dialogue choices. If The Inquisitor were to drink from the Well of Sorrows and then affirm Solas’ choice of fixing the past, he would leave. Not without incredible pain, but he leaves. But if by some chance, by some sliver of a chance, Lavellan says the right things, Solas stays. He hates himself for it, so he promises himself he’ll stay until the birth. Then he looks at his child and weeps. Like if he was platonic, Solas is thrown into turmoil, how could he destroy the world of a child? His child? So he resolves to stay and give up on his mission.

On another note, if he leaves, and Lavellan sees him in Trespasser, he’s more willing to take his vhenan and his child with him.

Varric Tethras: 

Platonic: Varric laughs, “Now that would be a twist… The great Inquisitor, changing diapers in between closing rifts and demon fights.” He smiles to himself. 

As a dwarf, their fertility is comparatively lower than the other races, and honestly, he never thought of himself as a parent, at least, not until he met and started parenting Cole. Of course, he doubts he’ll ever have his own family, Bianca and he, it would never work out. But he can understand the desire. 

He laughs so hard he cries if The Inquisitor or their partner ends up with a kid, like, hunched over, can’t breathe laughing. 

He’s nervous for The Inquisitor, though, he knows how hard it is to be a parent, but having a kid while they’re so… important? It’s a recipe for disaster.

Might end up writing the kid out of the story if The Inquisitor requests, maybe The Inquisitor doesn’t want anyone knowing they potentially had a child out of wedlock.

Romanced: Varric doesn’t laugh, he just smiles. He hadn’t started thinking about having a family until he and The Inquistor started going out officially. He nods, 

“I’d like that too.” He says, and the pair might find themselves discussing their future more often. Names for future children, where they’d live, does the Inqusitor want a dog?

He reminds his lover that Dwarves aren’t known for their fertility, but reminds his lover that “they can still try” and winks at his lover. 

Varric is so caught up in the feeling of being loved so freely, that he sometimes forgets that there’s an evil, red-lyrium magister that wants to rip his lover apart piece by piece. It get’s him nervous, but he’s confident in their shared abilities. And damnit, he loves The Inquisitor, he’s not giving up on them.

He’s speechless if his lover comes up to him and confesses that they’re pregnant, like… actually speechless. He opens his mouth to say something before closing it. Then he just smiles and throws his arms around his lover and says that he loves them. He’s happy to be a dad… he’s happy to have a family, he’s happy to have something he never thought would be his.

Vivienne: She doesn’t laugh, at all. She’s kind of pissed.

“You aren’t planning on bringing in a child now? Not here, right?” She has to clarify.

She thinks the Inquisitor and their partner will be wonderful parents, but they shouldn’t have kids right then. They need to wait. 

If the Inquisitor ends up pregnant/getting someone else pregnant, she scolds them fairly harshly, not to be mean or anything, she’s just upset with how “careless” they could be. If the Inquisitor tells her off or, Maker forbid, starts crying, she’ll feel bad. She doesn’t apologize, however, she knows that having a child while the world is still basically in peril and you’re the main person preventing utter chaos is one of the worst things you can do. 

However, the second the child comes into the world, she’s all over them. She isn’t obvious and wouldn’t be caught dead with the kid on her own, but she can’t help but smile when she sees them all swaddled or when they look so chubby she just wants to eat them up. Only when she sees what a wonderful parent the Inquisitor is, she apologizes for being harsh. She does it in her way, so the Inquisitor shouldn’t expect an “I’m sorry” or anything, but they will get some sort of comment on how she may or may not have been wrong to judge them. Regardless, the Inquisitor better take what they can get.

[kiran-wears-science-blues]

yeah yeah the yearning yadda yadda

but for me, personally? it’s about the reverence.

my favorite romantic-type ships are all about that overwhelming admiration, the sheer delight of being in the presence of someone so fundamentally incredible. longing? maybe. but i love those ships where a character clearly thinks the mere state of being friends with this amazing person is something life-defining and indescribably precious.

it’s when sans makes a world-changing promise to a woman he’s never met face to face because he’s bowled over by how much she loves bad jokes

it’s when varric writes a whole damn book about how larger than life his best friend is

it’s when spock tells his younger self: “i could not deprive you of a friendship that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realize.”  

just . . . when a character thinks the sun shines out their friend’s ass, i’m so fucking hooked.             

[vigilskeep]

What stories does the hawkeling Aura get about Keir anyway? I can imagine her being told about the nice eyes and killer smile line because that's cute. But some of the things Keir said and did...

anders loves a fairytale and likes to over-dramatise, even when she’s old enough to protest what can’t be true. to hear him tell it, hawke was a knight in shining armour. and then your father swept in to save us on dragonback! the mages all cheered, and the templars were so frightened, they dropped their swords and shields and ran away...

varric makes keir larger than life, playing up to the classic red hawke character, but he won’t let her read the book. you’re a little younger than my target audience, songbird. your dad would’ve had my head. why don’t you let me tell the story? you hawkes and your bloodthirst, here’s one you’ll like...

isabela tells her not to listen to either of them. she always saw through his bluster. your father was just like you. so sweet i could eat you both up whole! he got me the most darling little ship in a bottle when... tell you what, you get that trick i showed you right the next time i sail by, and it’s yours. deal?

merrill’s earnest, and remembers the things it doesn’t occur to anyone else to remember. it’s a keeper’s job, after all. you know what i miss? he wasn’t much of a good cook. fereldans don’t like flavours, i think? but he always used to make everyone take a bowl, even back when he couldn’t really afford it. which was funny for a big scary mercenary, wasn’t it? i try to make it that sort of grey brown colour he used to, and i can never manage it.

aveline sighs the first time she lays eyes on her. of course you’re his. maker. just as good at leading everyone into trouble, right? you’d better be as good at getting people to watch your back.

bethany likes best to remember him from childhood, when everything was easier and he was half her world. maker, i shouldn’t tell you this, he made me promise not to tell anyone this, but really, he made such a fool of himself, even your grandfather laughed, and he was never gladder for us to move towns...

fenris knows what it means to lose not just your family but the memory of them. he tries to keep it true, pared down to what matters. terrifying to his enemies and loyal to his friends. he was a good man. learn from his mistakes, keep yourself safe, and you could have few better legacies to inherit.

little aura hawke goes to sleep dreaming of her father, and when she wanders the fade, she’s not afraid of the figure in red who keeps the demons at bay. somehow it feels like she’s always known him well.

[seigephoenix]

Happy Friday!! If you’re feeling a bit spicy tonight, how about ‘Wet Dreams’ featuring Varric?

I love this considering dwarves typically don't dream. Featuring Varric and my Niyra Cadash!

Content Warning: NSFW themed, teasing, snark and sass

Varric looked up as he heard the knocking at his door.  Which was suspicious on its own as he wasn’t expecting any guests.  Very weird.  He set the letters aside and slid off the bed but the door swung open on its own.  “Inquisitor.”

“Varric!” Varric was stunned to see Niyra striding into his room, kicking the door shut behind her.  He was even more shocked by what she was wearing.  A silky, sheer gown that left nothing to the imagination.  Tied just below her breasts, parting to reveal smooth skin and a tattoo he hadn’t realized she had.  The matching silk covered up half of it and he found he really wanted to see it.

“I.” Varric froze when she brushed past him and set the bottle on the table.  “What are you doing here?”

“Hmm?  I came to celebrate the book being published of course!  Cassandra has promised she won’t come hunt you down for this one!” Niyra grinned at him as she popped the cork on the wine bottle.  “Come on.  Have a drink!” She passed him one of the glasses but he simply set it aside.

“That doesn’t explain…  This,” he said as he waved his hand from her head to foot.

“Hmm?  What’s this?” Niyra asked curiously and he wanted to groan in frustration.

“That get up you’re wearing.”  She laughed to his surprise.

“Come on now Varric.  I’d think you’d know exactly why I’m wearing this, and what my end goal was.”  She backed him up to the bed and he froze when the backs of his knees hit the mattress.  She reached out and pushed him down before straddling his lap.

“Cadash!”  Niyra leaned in until their noses brushed.

“Don’t act so scandalized Varric.  I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.”  His eyes widened and he shook his head.  “Ah, stubborn to the end.  Admit it, you want this too.”  Niyra straightened and placed her palm on his chest.  He swallowed as his heart raced in his chest.  Cadash was never this forward, she would recoil if he ever voiced his discomfort.

“Hmm?  Well, maybe I’m tired of you being an indecisive jerk about the whole thing.” Niyra grinned and slowly rocked her hips against his.  Varric groaned at the feel of her against him.  His hands grabbed her hips, savoring the warmth of her against his palms.  “Tell you what.  Tell me you don’t want this.  Tell me to go back to my room.  If you can do that I’ll go back to my quarters and I’ll never speak of this again.  Think you can do it?” Niyra chuckled when the words turned to ash on his tongue.  “See?  You are one of the most stubborn dwarves I’ve ever met, but your body is sure as hell honest with me.”

“Andraste’s ass.” Varric groaned when her hips slowly moved against his, dragging her soaking mound against his rigid cock.  “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Niyra asked mischievously as she did it again savoring the groan from him.  Varric’s fingers dug into her soft flesh as she reached up and tugged the ribbon holding her flimsy silk nightgown together.  His hands slid up but just before he reached those amazing tits, he heard his name being called.

“Varric.  Varric!”  Varric blearily opened his eyes and saw her face above his fixed in a concerned expression.  He reached up and pulled her down for a searing kiss.  Her lips parted in surprise and he took advantage to taste her.  “Varric.”  Niyra lifted her head and he gave her a smile.

“Yo Varric!  You awake yet?” Bull poked his head into the tent and paused as he saw the two of them.  “Eh.  Take your time.”  He gave them a thumbs up before backing out again.  Niyra flushed a brilliant crimson color before sputtering in surprise.

“Wait.  What?” Varric asked as he struggled to catch up.  “Where’s your nightgown?”  Niyra looked at him in surprise while pointing to herself.  “Yeah.  You were wearing one and we had some wine…”

“I don’t wear nightgowns and if I did, I know you wouldn’t want to see me in one.  Maybe you were dreaming.” Niyra told him as she straightened and stepped back away from the cot.  “I’ll let you get ready.  We’re going to be pushing further in the Deep Roads today, so get ready.” She grinned at him with the red riding high on her cheeks.  Niyra scurried away before he could say anything else.

“A dream?  Dwarves don’t dream.”

[transfenris-truther]

1, 2, 5, 9, and 19?

1. What are things they both find funny?

Each day Fenris is horrified to learn that he and Hawke have the exact same sense of humor. They both love dad jokes, although Hawke delivers them with childlike joy and Fenris delivers them with deadpan seriousness. They both think Varric's novels are extremely bad and funny, especially Swords and Shields. They also both have an unfortunate habit of finding irony and humor in their worst experiences. It can be uncomfortable for people who don't know them well.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

Hawke: Fenris is like- He's so much fun, so expressive, funny, and smart, but then he's also brave, beautiful, and strong. There's too much to say! I need more sentences.

Fenris: Hawke is possibly the most irritating man I have ever met and I'd be a fool not to love him.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Reading more than anything else. Hawke didn't care much for books until he saw how much Fenris appreciated them. They like to lie in each other's laps and read the best and worst passages aloud. Sometimes one will read some piece of smut so absurd that it will make the other laugh uncontrollably. Other times (usually when Fenris is deep into histories) they'll read something that will spark a debate that almost always ends with kissing

They like fighting together, but the fun wears off fast as they grow older. Eventually hunting slavers is the only reason Fenris breaks out his sword. Fenris takes exercise and stretching very seriously long after Hawke's knees decide that adventuring isn't for him anymore. Even so, they still wrestle together long after they're much too old.

They both end up spending a lot of time in the wilderness when they're on the run after Kirkwall. Fenris finds himself enjoying it, being out under the sky with Hawke, bathing in rivers, looking at the stars. Hawke likes the wilderness even more than that.

9. Have they made each other cry?

The first time Fenris left Hawke a note, he was so proud he cried over it. He kept it in a chest as a keepsake, but the chest was lost when they fled Kirkwall. He cries over sentimental things fairly often. He cried when Fenris agreed to marry him. Not immediately, but in short little bursts for days after when he thinks about it. Fenris doesn't know that Hawke cried when Fenris lashed out at him after Hadrianna. He doesn't know that Hawke cried to Varric after Fenris left him. Hawke will never tell him.

Fenris doesn't cry. There are certain things you can't get back after you've lost them. Crying is one of those things.

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

Neither of them are equipped to write marriage vows, but oh boy they try.

Hawke lets the pressure get to him and procrastinates writing vows until the day before the wedding. He tries to enlist help form Varric and, in desperation, Isabela. This is an unmitigated disaster. Eventually he ends up says something off the cuff that he doesn't remember even minutes afterwards. Fenris acts like he was extremely moved by the whole speech, when it was really just a long list of things Hawke likes about him.

Fenris doesn't really understand what marriage vows are for. He makes promises instead. Swears that he will follow Hawke where ever he leads, that Hawke will always have his sword. He attests to his devotion, his admiration and his love. The whole thing comes off like he's trying to convince Hawke to go through with it. Most people find the ceremony somewhat awkward. Merrill thinks it's all very sweet.

[sarsaparillia]

chapter title: kismet summary: Hawke reckons with the Champion, and Isabela reckons with Hawke. — f!Hawke/Isabela.

rating: E word count: 4100~ genre: angst, healing, give them a break i promise they’re both trying so hard notes: burn it all down — PVRIS.

AO3 | FFN

—

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Hawke wipes blood and sweat from her forehead, feeling only a little queasy with it.

The wind off the Waking Sea does little to alleviate the stickiness to her skin, too salted and slow-moving to make the glowing-furnace heat of the noonday sun comfortable. They're all having such an excellent time, melting beneath it! Hawke listens to Varric and Anders squabbling good-naturedly behind her—Varric does so love to tease, and Anders had insisted on coming as he's certain that she's going to over-do it yet again—cut through with the sea crashing against the sand and the scream of gull-song.

Fenris is very quiet at her elbow, and has been so for long enough that Hawke is starting to think that there must be something wrong with it.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time that he's drawn into himself when he's upset, at any rate.

"Alright," Hawke says, because she has all the tact of a raging bronto, "Out with it. What's got your knickers in a twist?"

Fenris, let be on the books, absolutely hates being asked what has his knickers in a twist. This is, without exaggeration, the only reason Hawke does it so often.

And, in true Fenris fashion, he rises to the occasion, and scowls magnificently.

Hawke is delighted by this turns of events.

"I am not in a twist, Hawke," he says, face like thunderclouds.

"Well, something's bothering you, darling, you've got that look on your face," Hawke tsks at him. She tips her head, crooks an eyebrow; the picture of sincere, genuine concern! I care about you, tell me your problems, says the picture.

(She's had rather a lot of time to perfect this particular expression. Worked on the Viscount when the poor sod was still alive, at any rate; Maker, but it's easier to joke about it. There's something very horrible about staring into the blank eyes of someone else's head on the floor that Hawke never wants to do ever again in her life.)

Fenris harrumphs at her.

READ THE REST or START FROM THE BEGINNING

[capricious-and-melodramatic]

Sending Crystal

A quiet curse came from Dorians sending crystal. Luckily this time I was while he was in the study and not on the Magisterium floor. At least last time while he was on the floor, he was the only one who could hear it. Every time he would start his speech he tried so hard not to laugh as a disgruntle little curse coming from his chest.  

“Having fun there, Amatus?”  

“Fucking so much--” There was an abrupt stop, a twang of a bow, “Maker’s tits, fuck off... Not, not at you Dorian! I’m just--”

“I thought you were going to tell me if you were in the middle of something? I know you’ve been busy-”   Arn had recently got some odd jobs with the Jenny’s. Although officially he was retired and living between Kirkwall and a place down in Ferelden. Unofficially he was running all over Thedas, spending some weeks in Kirkwall, or most of his time between the Jenny’s and in a Sanctuary for former Templars ran by a Former Templar and Inquisitor.  

“I promise this wasn’t planned. I got some time away, you know. Bandits see someone they wanna attack. No Cupcake put that down, you’re not taking that—okay but let me—The dog found some pretty cloth and now won't let it go. Cupcake you can keep it, just not in your mouth.”  

Dorian let out a chuckle. He was yet to meet the fabled Cupcake, a mabari of sorts. While Arn described her as a ‘good girl’, Varric and Cullen had both described her as ‘a massive beast. Too large to call a dog, and a touch shorter than a great bear.’ “She likes pretty things then?”  

“Oh yes. She keeps finding strange shiny things while we are out. She has a lovely collar at the moment. I’ll guess you’ll see at some point.” They had talked about seeing each other soon, the magisterium who have its break in a few months. He had book passage down to the South. Spend Wintersend in the bitter Ferelden cold. Not quite what he was looking forward too, but the company would be something.  

“It won't be long now,” Dorian comforted. He heard the Mabari bark.  

“Yes Cupcake, that’s Dorian. Yes, you’ll get to meet him, are you excited?” Arn asked his dog. Cupcake barked and jumped. “Did you know I’ve had about 4 people in the last 2 weeks ask me if they could breed with Cupcake. Sure I’m flattered, but I don’t know her history. I wrote to Elena and she said that Cullen said that you have to find out the dogs kin and shit before you let them breed, and I really don’t know. I met this guy in the woods.”  

“Yes, you’re friend Al. Any chance you’ve seen him again?”  

“Not last month while I was around there. Next time I’m that way I’ll ask about him. I don’t think she’s like, ill or anything I just don’t want people coming back and yelling to me about dog things I don’t know anything about.” Arn complained.  

“Yes, well you know those Ferelden’s, very stuff about their dogs.”

“How is Snookums by the way?” Arn asked

“Her name is not ‘Snookums’.” Dorian protested.  

“We’ll she didn’t answer to Vivienne.”

“She’s a snake...”

“She always perks up when I call her name.” Arn boasted.

Dorian let out a deep sigh. “Maybe it's just you animal magnetism.”

Arn chuckled loudly. “Anyway, how is Tevinter? Still as hot as ever?”

Dorian went on about the dragging sessions in the Magisterium, who was dead from last time, new faces and new blood. Same old same old.  

“Oh Dorian,” Arn interjected. “I need to send Cupcake to you, I have to run a few jobs and it’s no place for Cupcake. Is it okay if I send her up? I know Bull is going that way, I have a friend who can pick her up from there and take her into town, if that’s okay. If not I can send her down south with the Rutherford’s. And I mean either one is fine.”

“Of cause,” Dorian wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the Mabari, specially where he was staying. But it would be nice to have some company. “Are you getting Erik to take her in?”  

“Yeah, he’ll have some stuff for you as well. You know Erik, he’s good. Thomas is pouting about the whole thing but he just needs to get out more. 40 years in the Circle will kinda make you a bit cranky” Dorian smiled, Thomas was a crusty older gentleman, but Thomas and Erik had never left each other's side since the early days of the Inquisition. “Oh, I won't be able to talk while on the Job, but I’ll at least try to find time once it's over to call.”  

“I expected that much.”  

“Wonderful! I have to get going but I’ll call you before the job!”  

Dorian ended the call. Arn looked down to Cupcake. Bull was in view with the Chargers. “I’ll be a week behind her, she wont be too much trouble.” Arn explained to Bull. Cupcake already started dancing around Krem and Bull’s Kadan.  

“She’ll be fine. I didn’t know Mabari could be Qunari sized?”

“I know right? I hope Dorian doesn’t mind.”

“He’s capable.” Bull laughed. “Does he know you’re coming?”  

“Nope.” He popped the p. “Erik is gonna keep quiet. He knows where it is, he’ll send me directions.”

“You wont be able to miss it, it’s the most pompous looking house in the street.” Bull chuckled.

[aces-to-apples]

@faeymouse: Time Travel AU and First Time trope for Cole please, friend. I leave the ship to your discretion ☺️

Ship: Cole/Original Cole

Rating: Mature

He calls himself Cole, which should not be the strangest part of it all yet somehow still is.

He shoos away Cole's friend with gentle reassurances—it's okay, spirit-me, go help someone else now, I'll take care of him, I know how to keep him safe—and picks the lock on his cell door. He pulls Cole in close as they leave the White Spire, and then all of Val Royeaux, behind them in the distance and it's as if no one even sees them. He gives Cole food and water and thick, soft bedding and rubs Cole's back and pets his hair when he becomes sick after eating too much. He softly promises that no one will ever cage Cole again, that Cole will always have someone to remember him, that he'll always have food and companionship and compassion.

All of this while wearing Cole's face, using Cole's name.

He says he comes from a faraway future, a future where Cole had perished, lonely and hungry and forgotten, in the depths of the White Spire. His spirit friend, soft and caring and comforting, had kept him company. Then, after he passed, tried to honor Cole by taking on his form and helping people.

He admits, at length, that he had done a poor job at first. He'd become a demon, unaware that his attempts to help were, in fact, hurting—or, at least, taking away any chance for the hurts to heal on their own.

He says he knows better now, wide-eyed and earnest.

It should be unnerving to look into his own face and see someone else—to see a spirit—looking back at him. Somehow, it isn't.

Cole—spirit-Cole, although he says he's more human than spirit now, so Compassion—says he convinced the friend who sent him back to send him farther than they needed. He says he wanted to come back far enough to save Cole, human-Cole, from the Spire, from the Templars.

You're my friend, he says earnestly, from beneath the very best hat Cole's ever seen. My very first friend. They wanted me to come back to help everyone, and this way, you're part of everyone too.

Cole doesn't understand, it's all too much: Magisters ("Dorian's not a magister," Compassion says with a smile that shows their overbite. "His father's a magister, but he's a bad father. He hurts him, even though he loves him, because sometimes love isn't enough. Dorian's a friend—a good one.") and magic and time and temptation and fear and the Fade, all mixed up and making Cole's head hurt.

Compassion rubs his temples and runs his hands through his hair and that feels good, makes the hurt go away.

"We'll go to Ferelden," Compassion says one night as they eat supper, days after leaving Val Royeax. He'd taken food and supplies from vendors who never noticed, sometimes leaving money from rich Orlesians' pockets and sometimes not. He'd said someone named Jenny told him who deserved which. "Stone-Bear will help us.”

Cole doesn’t ask who or what Stone-Bear is, trusting his friend to not lead them wrong.

When supper is finished, they share a bedroll and Cole tries not to think about the Templars that had hurt him, beat him, and—worse. Worse than beatings were the other ways they’d hurt him; Father had beat him too but never that, at least.

Odd, that.

Compassion snuggles closer and runs a soothing hand up and down his arm, humming a tune that his—their?—little bitty bunny used to sing to herself.

“Stone-Bear will take care of you, will keep you safe, while I’m gone,” Compassion murmurs into his hair, ruffling newly-cleaned strands. “I still have to do the things that I was sent back here to do, and I would still like to help people when I can, but I promise I will come back. And when the orb is unlocked and the sky tightens, tears, turning in on itself, it will be time for us to meet our friends. They will like you. They will keep us safe and let us help.”

Cole can’t even imagine all that. The hand on his arm stills, then Compassion moves even closer. Pressed together like spoons, cast from the same mold. An arm wraps around his middle and the hand returns, stroking up and down his chest and belly.

“Would you like me to tell you about them? Our friends.”

... Yes, please.

Compassion fills the night air with descriptions of these people who mean so much to him, to them.

Varric who calls them ‘Kid’, spinning stories like sapphires, gilded, glittering in the gloom; a silk shirt with three buttons left undone; fear that fades the longer he speaks, slipping to sleep. Dorian with his shiny clothes and shining heart, heartsick, heartbroken, sweet and swept along, adventures and romance, ash and rust. Cassandra, a Seeker of Truth, who befriended Faith and fights Fear and reads books aloud to ghost boys who don’t know what they are. Josephine, golden, glowing, unruffled in ruffles, honey in her tea. A black wall that is rainier but killed him. A serrah who is a jenny, scarlet, scarred, scared, but funny and firm and warm and warmth. A templar who realized he was wrong; mages all around, unmonitored, unmolested, and it’s good because he made himself safe and solid, protecting and proud, he won’t be the mages’ monster anymore.

There’s more: a Life with a lovely hat who won’t let herself starve and fears him more than anything but still cares about him; an iron bull boasting and blustering, a bulwark, unmoving but not unmoved, Fear tossed out of its hiding place by trust in friends and a large stick; a god who isn’t, bright and brilliant and ‘a bit of a bastard’, who broke the world once and then twice, unable to cope with his grief. A left hand with a knife and a song and birds on dark wings that cackle and sing with her.

Part of Cole slips to sleep while Compassion speaks, while others awaken.

The hand stutters, and Compassion sounds unsure for the first time as he says, “Varric and the Iron Bull and Dorian all said it’s important to ask before I touch, and wait for a ‘yes’, and pay attention to hurts. May I touch you, Cole?”

They breathe, quietly, and Cole thinks about it for a long time, even when his breaths turn to pants and he wants to squirm. He’s never felt safer.

Yes. Please.

Cole thinks maybe Compassion hasn’t done this before, hand slow and unsure around him, but it doesn’t matter. It still feels good, makes him writhe and sigh and whimper, overwarm and overworked, until he spills.

He sinks back into his friend’s embrace and takes a breath so deep, it makes his lungs ache.

They’ll sleep, and then go to Ferelden and Stone-Bear, and his friend will leave but it will be okay because when he comes back, Cole will meet their friends. The future has darkness in it, but still looks bright.

[bennydwight]

Dragon Age Oneshot

Shameless, indulgent, one-sided Varric/Inquisitor, because I understand why we’re not allowed to romance the dwarf, but that’s not gonna stop me from being bitter about it.

(Also feat. Dorian being simultaneously the best and worst wingman)

 ~~~~~~

"Oh dear what's got the Inquisitor so long in the face this time?"

Lavellan hid her startle well enough that Dorian didn't comment. Maker's breath, he could be stealthy when he wanted to. Observant, too, so she didn’t see much point in lying to him. "I'm in love, Dorian."

She felt more than saw his interest pique, and he slid down the stone wall to join her on the steps. Below them, the courtyard was abuzz with activity: Dennet and his apprentice busied themselves with checking the new stock of mounts, the merchants from Val Royeaux shifted primly as Fereldan soldiers examined their wares, and patients of the last battle milled around the surgeons camp. Among them, even from this height, Lavellan could see Cole's wide-brimmed hat bobbing along through the crowd of wounded like a leaf on a river, likely offering comfort to those who needed it. Varric's copper hair trailed along beside, either gathering intelligence for his next book, or ensuring Cole stayed within the confines of human morality. Nice that those two got along so well.

Far below, a soldier said something and Varric laughed, the delighted rasp floating up to reach even Lavellan's perch. Why must he do that to her.

"In love, you say?" Dorian continued next to her. "Anyone I would know?"

Lavellan sighed. "He's roguishly charming, dashingly handsome, entirely uninterested, and so far out of my league he may as well be the Black Divine."

"Dear me, have you fallen in love with me all over again? Can't say I'm not flattered, though I recall us having this conversation once before."

That drew a laugh from the depths of her lovesickness and she nudged Dorian with a shoulder. "You know the flame I hold for you in my heart will never extinguish."

"Alas, perhaps in another life." He chuckled back.  "Who's the fortunate gentleman?"

"Oh please, if you think I'll out and tell you like some babbling maid chasing the butcher's son, I give you too much credit."

He leaned back, stroking his goatee with an interested finger. "Making a game out of it then? Very well, I'll play along. Ten silver says I can guess the lad in three tries."

A game was exactly what Lavellan didn’t want, but she far too much enjoyed Dorian's scowl when he lost not to play.  The ten silver could buy her something interesting from the baker too, next time they travelled to Val Royeaux. "You'll be paying for my next pastry run, Vint."

"Better save at least some of that silver for larger clothing then." He made a show of tapping his chin, deep, deep in thought, the flash bastard. "Roguishly charming, daringly handsome... Just to clarify, you are talking about a lad, yes?"

"Oh, no. Making that distinction would narrow the field by far too much. If you weren't paying attention to the pronouns, that's on you."

Dorian glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it while the gears of his mind were ticking elsewhere. "From the description alone, of course my first guess would have to be our distinguished commander? Not that I'd blame you, mind, he is quite the man."

Perhaps too much man for Lavellan, the commander was far too battle-ready for her to find attractive (though admittedly the scars did send something stirring within her). And Cullen's evasive reactions towards the advances of other members of the fairer gender betrayed a disposition more boyish than Lavellan expected. She imagined courting Cullen would be very much like courting the spirit of a farm boy in the body of a marble statue. "I flirted with him once, for fun. I was afraid he'd wet himself."

Dorian's laughter rang warm and clear through the courtyard. "That might explain why you couldn't tell him, the poor man would throw himself off the battlements."

Lavellan stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make it sound like my affections are a disease to be feared."

"They certainly spread that way."

"You enjoy it, you all do. Maker knows none of you under my command have ever gotten enough hugs in your lifetimes."

"Something we all know you're desperately trying to correct."

"This game is timed, Dorian, if you don't use your guesses in the next ten seconds then you forfeit."

"Don't be silly, that was never agreed upon," he waved a hand flippantly, but settled again. "Sera-"

"Nope."

"That wasn't a guess, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Sera is in league all her own, so it can't be her."

"It counts."

"It doesn’t. "

Lavellan never was very good at keeping a straight face, especially in Dorian's presence. "Fine, fine, you get one freebie."

"Then my next guess would have to be the Iron Bull."

Oh, she'd thought about it. Maybe Lavellan was just weak for big hands and a soft voice. And who could forget those muscles? But Iron Bull wasn't exactly secretive about his thoughts on relationships, thoughts Lavellan wasn't sure she could share in the long run. And maybe it would have been different if Iron Bull committed to the Inquisitor, but after an accidental (and awkward) run in with Bull and a kitchen maid, Lavellan was pretty certain she'd seen all she needed to regarding Skyhold's resident Ben-Hassarath.

Besides. She'd seen the silky way Dorian's eyes smoothed over Iron Bull's shoulders when his back was turned. There had never been two people she was less inclined to come between.

She shot Dorian a sly side-eye. "I'll leave the lovesickness to other, more suitable people when it comes to the Bull, I think."

He hid the hitch in his shoulders almost perfectly, but the pink dusting on his cheekbones was a little harder to explain away. To his credit, Dorian didn't try. "Ahem. Well, you mentioned 'uninterested', so it can't be the swooning--"

He trailed off, but Lavellan's sharp stare snapped to him, ears twitching up. "The what?"

"Nothing, a slip of the tongue."

"Your tongue is so slippery it's a wonder it doesn't slither out of your head. Now out with it, who were you talking about?"

Dorian heaved a mighty sigh, but his eyes shone in that way they did when he'd been sitting on a sweet bit of gossip for too long. "Very well, I promised Vivienne I wouldn’t say anything since you didn't need 'undue distractions', but since you insisted. One of your throne guards can't keep his eyes away from you."

This was news to her. "Wha- Are you talking about Davrish or Johannes? Or Tel, he fills in sometimes."

"The lad who usually stands at your left. Human, on the tall side, dark hair. Hard to see much under the helmet, but he's got a scar under his eye."

Davrish then. "He fancies me?"

Dorian laughed. "Like Solas fancies the Fade. He reveres you. Whenever you're in the Main Hall, he refuses to look anywhere else. He practically vibrates when you're judging someone, I imagine since he's never had a woman that close to him in his life. Have you truly not noticed?"

She truly hadn't. She'd spoken to Davrish several times around Skyhold, usually a casual bit of snark tossed around regarding the latest judgement, but never had she gotten the impression that he was interested. Perhaps since, whenever she frequented the Main Hall, her attention lingered elsewhere... "I suppose I'm usually distracted."

Dorian leaned closer, something wicked crawling into his grin like a desert lizard. "Distracted, are you?"

Lavellan huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could still her heart's rapid beat. "I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian, not all of us can lounge in the library all day, drinking cheap ale and commenting on whatever daily atrocity Solas is wearing."

"Oh, that reminds me, did you see the particularly awful armour he picked up during your last trip to the Oasis? I could go on for days about the state of the stitching alone-"

He definitely could, as proven time and again. Times like these, where her Tevinter friend really got on a roll, Lavellan could feign interest well enough while letting her mind wander to more introspective topics. She nodded and made appropriate noises at appropriate times to Dorian's impassioned ramblings, but once again her eyes sought the copper head weaving in and out of view of the crowd below.

As if sensing her seeking eyes, Varric pulled his attention away from Cole and stared straight at her.

Lavellan's heart stuttered to a stop. Even this far away, his eyes shone with the barely concealed mirth he always seemed to carry just under the crooked quirk of his eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled up in that roguish smile she loved as they made eye contact, and one hand (gloved, why always gloved) rose in a lazy wave.

Like a dunderhead, Lavellan practically tripped over herself to return the gesture, nearly catching her finger in one of the buckles of her clothes in the process. Varric didn't seem to notice, his smile widening before he turned back to his odd little charge.

Too late, Lavellan noticed Dorian had fallen silent beside her, his calculating golden eyes boring into her frozen face. She heard the dots connect.

"Oh."

Don’t make eye contact, don't make eye contact

"Oh, MAKER."

Lavellan spun on him, the tips of her ears burning under his scrutiny. "WHAT."

He stared back, expression refreshingly open for once, though it bore no malice. Only stunned disbelief. "Lavellan, the dwarf?"

Not trusting herself to speak around the dry lump lodged in her throat, Lavellan reached into her pocket and dropped ten silver into Dorian's unresponsive hand.

He stared at the coins as if in shock, though Lavellan knew him well enough by now to know when he was exaggerating emotion. Dorian and Sarcasm were old friends. "I can’t- Vishante kaffas."

"I know."

"Of all the available young matches here in Skyhold, you're wasting your time making doe-eyes at the single most ineligible person this side of the Anderfels."

"I know.”

"He's in love with a crossbow, for Maker's sake!"

"I KNOW!" Lavellan groaned, burying her head in her hands. "If you think I haven’t had this discussion with myself numerous times then you are sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Although," Dorian started in such an oddly contemplative tone that Lavellan peeked out from between her fingers. The silver was gone, tucked away while she'd been marinating in her own self-horror, and his hand returned to its previous action of thoughtfully stroking his facial hair. "He is quite the strapping one." His face took on a haughty air. "And we already knew you had a penchant towards the witty."

"Not only wit," Lavellan sighed, and now that her darkest thoughts hovered at the forefront of her tongue, she found it nigh impossible to stop them from stumbling into the light of day. "He's suave, confident in a way that still eludes Cullen. He has all the easy, rugged attractiveness of the Iron Bull with none of his-"

"Expansive tastes?" Dorian supplied, entirely unhelpfully.

"-worldliness." Lavellan corrected coolly.

"He's quite the complainer. "

"He's opinionated, and most of them are right. Varric is warmth, and friendship, and a drop of sunlight in the midst of the rainstorm that is the Breach."

"I may vomit."

"I am taking that as a challenge. He is soft eyes and soft leather, and the feeling you get right after you make someone laugh. He's quiet nights by the fireside, the smell of ink swirling in the warmed air. He is-"

"-headed this way."

Lavellan was just about to admonish Dorian for his unsportsmanlike attempt to distract her from her flowering prose (it had really started to flow there, too!), but a glance downward found Cole nowhere to be seen, and instead one copper-headed dwarf tromping up the stairs.

All thoughts of poetry dissipated. He was coming straight for them! "Oh... oh Maker-"

"Don't panic," Dorian smirked, "with a nose that large, he can probably smell your nerves."

She didn’t have the chance to smack him before Varric reached them, breath laboured in the way that often happened when short legs were presented with more than five steps. Lavellan wondered why Varric chose to spend the majority of his days in the Grand Hall when it required so many steps to get there (and she refused to let herself believe it was because he wanted to be near her, no no). "Well, you two are looking chummy."

"Varric!" Dorian opened with no shortness of theatrics, "We were just talking about you!"

"Is that right?" Lavellan heard more than saw Varric's raised eyebrow as she pinned Dorian under a glare so hot it had been known to stop enemies in their tracks.

Dorian, having evolved out of the category of "enemy" some time ago, barely noticed. "Yes, we were just discussing your romance serial, the one Cassandra enjoys so much? Are you planning on writing more?"

Lavellan’s glare had taken on a panicked note, her friend going rogue before her eyes. How hard did one have to stare at another for them to spontaneously combust?

Varric, large as his nose was, didn’t seem to smell her distress this time. He laughed. "I am if Seeker has anything to say about it! Why, you're a fan too? Learning anything interesting?"

"On the contrary, I have an idea for another serial I'm sure readers would enjoy."

Lavellan’s shoulders relaxed marginally, head tilting at a quizzical angle. What was he doing...

"I don't usually entertain book pitches, but for you Sparkler? Let's hear it."

"It's about a famous, powerful young artist, who falls in love with a roguishly charming, dashingly handsome writer-"

Aaaaand there went her shoulders again, hitched almost to her burning ears. Back safely to Varric, she frantically mouthed "I'll KILL you, you sunnuvabitch", the rest of Dorian's blatantly obvious pitch drowning under the blood pumping in her ears. His mouth quirked up in the only indication he was paying her any mind at all.

Varric made a thoughtful noise, and she didn't dare turn round to look at him. "An artist and a writer, huh? It's got potential. And no one can say it's... unrealistic." Maker's breath, was he implying something? Was that tone barely concealed subtext, or just Varric being an asshole?

And Dorian couldn't leave it at that, oh no, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus did things halfway. "And say, if you do decide to write it, I'm sure our dear inquisitor wouldn’t mind illustrating. Surely you two have known each other long enough that working closely for prolonged periods of time wouldn’t be too agonizing."

Using her body as a shield, Lavellan flipped him off.

"It's certainly something to consider," Varric hummed, none the wiser to Lavellan's mortification. Unless... he was playing with her? "I'm sure my lady readers would appreciate another romance."

Dorian stared straight into Lavellan's eyes. "They certainly would."

"What about it, Herald?" Oh Maker, he was leaning over her now. The scent of warm leather drifted over her like the sweetest perfume-- NO, that was gross! Don’t think like that! "Feel like collaborating?"

"Sure," her voice came out more like a squeak than a sound, and Dorian couldn't quite hide his snort behind his moustache.

The creak of leather as Varric leaned back. "Peachy. After we take care of this Corypheus business, of course, even I understand that we have priorities. Speaking of, I gotta ask Seeker something. Dorian."

Dorian nodded in farewell, radiating smugness. Expecting her turn to be next and realizing at the same time that she hadn't looked at Varric a single time during this conversation, Lavellan finally turned to the dwarf.

Bad idea. She turned directly into that insufferable crooked grin. His hooded eyes glittered with mischief, like he was privy to an in-joke. The sun set behind him, haloing his visage with golden light. Varric himself couldn't have written this scene better, and Lavellan hated herself for thinking it. Her ears drooped under the weakness of her own body.

Varric's grin widened marginally. "Inquisitor."

"Bye," Lavellan breathed more than said. Dorian snorted again, louder, but Varric was polite enough not to mention it. He continued up the stairs and Lavellan managed until his heavy bootsteps faded away to melt into a humiliated puddle. She slumped over her legs, burying her face in her hands.

"Dear me, Inquisitor, your ears are a most delightful shade of crimson."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"Once I can stand again, I am going to take my knife and cut out your tongue."

"Oh, I'd still find ways to humiliate you."

"I wont even use my nice knife. It'll be a kitchen knife. You'll suffer for days, just like I am now."

He patted her jovially on the shoulder. "Come now, Lavellan, surely you must know that Varric is crass and boorish, but he's far from an idiot. He'll nip this in the bud within the week and I need to get a decent amount of teasing in before then."

Lavellan punched him in the arm.

 END

[fenharel-babe]

I'm back in my Solavellan feelings and want to talk about my lavellan and Solas. I saw these prompts and decided to post that now. I'm going to answer each one (other than the nsfw ones) and here we go. Putting it under a keep reading just in case no one cares lol.

For the Fluff:

1. What are things they both find funny?

Solas and Bloom both love when Cassandra and Varric banter. They just find it hilarious because Cassandra is nice at some points but she can be angry while being funny. They just find both of them too funny.

2. If they could each describe each other in one sentence, what would it be?

Solas describe Bloom as, "A complicated woman," and Bloom describes Solas as, "A complicated man." They're both complicated on the surface and they just stick to that description. But if people ask for what do they like about each other, then OH BOY!!! They could go on a rant.

3. If they complimented each other, what would they say?

Solas would compliment Bloom by saying how she always notices the good in people. She always tries to make people feel better, help them heal, and just help people in general. She cares for people and the way she sees the good in people, and it makes him love her.

Bloom would compliment Solas by saying she loves hearing him ramble and how adorable it is. Solas rambles and we ALL know it. He'll talk about the fade or magic for hours and Bloom loves to hear all of it and she finds his passion adorable.

4. What would be their ship name?

Blas because it's close to blast and Bloom will blast you away if you ever hurt her family. It has Bl from Bloom and as from Solas lol.

5. What activities do they enjoy together?

Hmmm...they enjoy a lot of things together. I guess the one thing they could mainly enjoy together is reading. They both like to read and find it fun. But the part they both enjoy the best is reading to each other. Like Lavellan is resting her head in Solas's lap and he's reading whatever to her or Solas is resting his head in her lap and she's reading to him. It's comfortable and that's an activity they like.

Another one is taking naps together.

6. What is/are their love language(s)?

Physical attention. I believe Solas does like it when he gets physical attention. He's like...however old and he's definitely touch starved, but only for the person he loves: Bloom. They both like getting physical attention and like holding hands, kissing, hugging, nsfw things, and they do like words. They love being told "I love you" from the other and it brings them so much comfort. They love it when they comfort each other.

7. Write a ~300 word love scene for them.

Solas was looking at Bloom again. She was resting on the couch in the Rotunda, few pieces of hair falling in front of her face, and was slightly snoring. He worked in the Rotunda all the time and she would visit him all the time. Even before they confessed to each other. They love being together, so if she was ever stressed, she would come here and check on him. He would accept the attention and he would give her as much comfort as she needed. This time, she came because she had a bad dream. She was being chased by demons and was witnessing Solas's death in the future that Alexius tried to make. He knew she suffered from the mere memory, so he would never shun her away. He would do whatever she wanted and this time she just wanted to be in the same room with him.

She groaned in her sleep and it made him worry. He marked the page he was on in his book and went over to her. He knelt in front of her and pulled the pieces of hair back behind her ear. She moved slightly and it made him freeze, but she didn't move again and he was relieved. He looked at her closer now and he got to see the sight he loved. He loved to see her at peace, something he rarely got to see, and when she slept he got to see it. It made him feel happy and he just staring at her made him feel blessed. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. He hoped she wouldn't wake, but she did.

She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him. "Hi, vhenan."

Solas blushed at that word and decided to kiss her again to hide it.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Bloom found Solas as interesting and she really wanted to know more about him.

Solas found her as rude and distant. Only to realize she's just anxious and actually loves almost everyone.

For the Angst:

9. Have they made each other cry?

Have you seen the ending of Trespasser??? YES!! They have. They never used their words to hurt each other and make them cry, but their actions have. Solas leaving made Bloom cry, Bloom having a dream of Solas being dead made her cry, and seeing him again in Trespasser made her cry.

Now, Solas cried a lot. He hides it, but he does cry a lot. He cares for Bloom a lot, more than he thought he would, so seeing her hurt? It makes him upset. One time, she was knocked out for quite awhile because she used a lot of her energy, and Solas was so concerned and he cried. So yes they cry about each other a lot.

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

I can't exactly do this one because they rarely argue :(.

11. What causes them to fight?

Umm...the only thing that could make them fight would be Solas telling Bloom to do something she doesn't believe in. Solas telling her that she's too kind hearted and almost implying she's weak. That would really hurt her and she would argue. It would be a short argument because she would leave since she doesn't want to argue. They would both come together soon and they'll explain their side and almost always feel better.

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Yeah. I'm not good with the politics in like DA, but it's obvious they do bc he's Solas and she doesn't know the things he does, so they do have different opinions. It's why they avoid that topic lol.

13. Name something they would never do for the other person.

Bloom could never let him destroy the world. Like she would never help him. Does she love him with her entire soul? Yes. But she can't destroy the world.

Solas would never just forget his past for her. You can take this as in he has to destroy the world or just that he can't stop the mission of at least sharing the word of his people. He just can't forget his past.

14. What would be a dealbreaker?

Destroying the world is a deal breaker for Bloom lol. Or just anything regarding to hurting people for the fun of it.

Deal breaker for Solas would have to be her hating on his old life. Like?? Excuse me?? Bloom would never but still. If he had someone do that then he'd have to leave them.

15. What are traits they dislike in one another?

Bloom doesn't like the way Solas is constantly not looking at other peoples POV. He just thinks about his past and sometimes needs to be reminded not everyone is like him and he needs to think about it like them.

Solas doesn't like the way Bloom is always sacrificing herself.

16. If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

They would still love each other. They have broken up like twice already now. First in DAI and then again in Trespasser (not rlly but ya get it?? He left her once and then he did it again lol). They would still love each other and wouldn't move on. They would still believe that they are a good person (Even if Bloom's opinion of that good person is in doubt) and almost have the same opinions.

For the Depth:

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

Bloom is reminded of him when she sees green clothes. She's reminded of his clothes he would wear, how she would take them off in the heat of the moment, and how she would sometimes sleep in them. And!! Seeing wolves or animals would sometimes remind her of him. He liked animals and talked about them and since he has a jawbone, if she saw a wolf she'd immediately think about him. The smell of the woods would remind her of him.

Solas is reminded of her when he sees anything blue or ginger. Blue was her favorite color and she almost always wore blue clothes, and her hair was ginger. Seeing anything ginger would remind him of her, her hair, and how he would run his fingers through it when she was stressed or sad.

18. What would be their love motto?

"To love is to understand each other, trust each other, and want to protect each other."

19. If they could each write a single line in their marriage vows, what would they be?

Bloom: "You make my fire brighter and make me feel like I can do the impossible."

Solas: "You understand me and see things in me I can't see myself."

20. What is a promise they have made to each other?

To love forever. Solas knew he wouldn't love anyone like he loves her and she knew she wouldn't love anyone the way she loves him, so they made a promise.

Away from their love, it's a promise to always be true to each other...even though that promise is very sad...because you know-

21. How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

I think they've both changed for the better. Bloom slowly learns she can't sacrifice herself and that it's okay to love someone no matter what. Solas learns that everyone is suffering in their own way, how precious people are, and how to love again.

22. If their lives were what was originally intended at birth, would they have still fallen in love?

Umm...Bloom was meant to be a hunter and stay in a clan, so I doubt they would have met. BUT if they ever did, they most likely still would have fallen in love. Bloom was still the same no matter what. He probably would adore her more because she can fight physically and also use her magic.

23. Write a ~300 scene between them with no dialogue, only body language.

They were in her bedroom, getting undressed for bed, and he finally wrapped his arms around her. Bloom felt relief when Solas wrapped his arms around her. She had been through a stressful day, so to feel his arms around her, it made her feel safe. The warmth he radiated brought her peace, and then the coolness he gave her made her feel even better. Anything involving him made her feel loved, so to just feel him made her happy.

Uhhh....I can't write just body language. I need to write dialogue so my bad. Take 79 or 80 words lol.

24. What is something they have each had to forgive the other for?

Bloom has to forgive him for trying to destroy the world lol.

Solas doesn't really have anything to forgive her for. She's always been careful around him, not overstepping boundaries, and they rarely fought. He just feels the need to forgive himself and understand why she forgives him.

Anyways yeah take this!! I might do more prompts like this. I just love them so much. I might do Cullen and Elle and Julian and Cassandra!! And there's not much proofreading so :))).

[common-blackbird]

Started!

This is my Inquisitor (so overjoyed you can be a qunari), her name is the default Herah and I decided I’m going to approach this game by staying true to a character and not looking to do everything and be on everyone’s good side u_u

I want to make a good background for her so i’m not telling anything. Yet. I’ll just say she’s a qunari mercenary and prefers using two-handed weapons.

Highlights from today:

Studying history does pay off! This was a reference to the famous book in environmental history - Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond. So proud i recognised it x)

Also i don’t have a good shot of solas but he cracks me up so much.. The guy has a posture of the typical retired grandpa (the only thing missing is to have him walk with his hands on his back). And there’s a scene where the party sees the rift and there’s the inquisitor facing it, cassandra bracing herself and solas... just standing like an old man

On a side note, Cassandra is so gorgeous and good and i already love her, i just keep taking shots of her TAT

As for varric, it’s so different than from da2, this is so much more “official” and you can see he’s the same as ever, but you’re not hawke, hawke’s not here, the gang’s not here and there’s nothing casual about the whole situation T-T

And lastly, my inquisitor has a horse now, i didn’t know that was possible in the game ;__;

played some more...

Let  me start with.... The advisors! (+ cassandra... or is she also an advisor too?)

What a bunch. I love Cassandra’s and Leliana’s faith having a crisis bc they believe that Inquisitor is the Herald of Andraste and the way they deal with it. It’s really interesting. Leliana is completely opposite than what she was in origins and i’m surprised it doesn’t bother me at all! I love seeing this whole darker side that was only hinted at in origins, though it’s also sad when i think how she used to be. I wonder how she’s gonna overcome her doubting of faith. 

Josephine is a delight. I keep using her for almost every war table mission for now. She radiates capability. She reminds me of those bureaucrats that are super nice and helpful and chill and even if you’re doing everything wrong she’ll just smile and say “it’s ok, we can fix it” and then goes and fixes everything herself (and you feel this insane amount of gratitude you send a whole separate email to thank her for her patience and help )

As for Cullen... It’s interesting... I got impression from what i saw in the fandom that he’s supposed to have had his allegiance changed and him rejecting the templars should have been him ultimately siding with the mages (or at least being anti-templar(?)), and that turning point that could have been a great way to show his character development during the game. Which i agree, only... i did not get that impression from the game so far at all. I mean, so far everything that i can remember him saying is totally smth he’d say in da2... He didn’t leave kirkwall bc of his disappointment with the templar order, he doesn’t seem to have any issues with the templars except those who go full war mode instead of trying to balance the situation. And it’s a really chaotic situtation, i love how they did it.

This line was amazing, i wish there was a special cutscene for that.

I’m loving the way they made this huge religious organisation in crisis have a complete collapse with the death of a key figure. I love the concept of inquisition and problems that it poses. I love you can see everyone’s reasoning and doubts reflect their background, but also see why inquisition can be understood as another power-grasping organisation trying to topple the templars, the mages and the chantry. Everything is divided. We got templars leaving the chantry, seekers leaving the chantry(?), rebel mages, loyal mages, rebel mages gone rouge, templars gone rouge, and suddenly there’s another organisation forming that you can totally believe is just another powerhungry force trying to get the piece of the cake by taking advantage of the power vacuum left by the sudden lack of the religious authority. (and only we know we’re The Good Guys). I love that we have characters who need to believe in the greater plan, characters who question the greater plan, and characters who want to utilise the power of belief and characters who don’t care for divine plans. The chaos is real and it feels real. I love that the centre figure of the whole holy business is a heretic of another culture. For the chantry this is the lose-lose situation (unless the inquisitor becomes religious by the end of the game). Which is why this line works so well. 

Ok, now shorter updates:

Red Jenny! I know it’s not her actual name but it is in my head. Where’s that box i delivered ages ago >_> Anyways, she makes my brain work on 150% capacity. I can understand what she means only after i go over it for 5 times.

Forgive me but oh my god, i can’t believe that i can recognise one voice actor and now i have another mental image whenever he speaks. Like, he’s really good at bringing out a new character, but when he gets more casual he sounds like kanan jarrus from star wars rebels and i’m just “what are you doing here, space dad” ;__; Hopefully it’ll get old and i’ll be enjoying more iron bull. he seems nice...

Vivienne on the other hand is like a reverse Josephine(?) She seems insanely capable but hates customer service, however somehow she likes you very much and will do everything you need for reasons you can’t fathom. Have a screenshot. So classy. I already feel humbled.

and lastly, BREAKING NEWS: aveline finally hired carver ;__;

Tbh Kirkwall is still a mystery and i have so many questions but i don’t think i’ll get any answers... If a powervacuum of the divine cause this much chaos, how’s kirkwall faring without a new viscount? Like, yeah, aveline can keep in check, but umm it’s in a very vulnerable state which makes it a good target for any invasion... didn’t sebastian promise bloodshed?

That’s all for now, bc otherwise i’ll start writing an essay on cassandra.

We befriended a bear in the hinterlands!

lets start with this cool shot

so, i have been to the mages and to the templars and... i sided with the templars.... First i was all for mages since they offered negotiations while the seeker just walked away, but then it turned out that was a trap, there’s also tevinter mages there (which is a red flag for my inquisitor) and then there’s some time magic involved (which is a big no for me), and i just walked out. Felt bad for the mages but my inquisitor comes from a culture where mages have their tongues cut so...

Also this guy deserves a medal for putting up with corrupted superiors and annoying nobles.

And i met cole ;__; Where are Rhys and Evangeline ;___;

the templar mission was ok i guess... I was surprised that red lyrium was apparently circulating around for some time, not sure if that means since meredith or even before. I love the stories of corruption tho and to imagine what it’s like to be trapped in this organisation that just keeps breaking everything it stands for

As for the important mages, i’ve Dorian twice since i bailed out on him in Redcliffe :I I love the guy, he seems arrogant yet so kind (like, no one would have carried that annoying priest and yet he did, after he ran from his own people to warn us after i ditched him in Redcliffe? man ;A;) Every time i go with “ok the inquisitor fears tevinter and distrusts this rando who just popped in” i am marinating in guilt.

and then we fight some mages and die several times but we succeed and we meet the bad guy...

Is it an unpopular opinion to say that i like him as a villain so far? i saw so many jokes on his incompetency. Idk, i like that part where he said that he reached the fade in someone’s name, it makes me think he’s not just power-hungry person(?) who’s just evil,but was originally serving someone, and he said that the gods were either gone or corrupted and he spent hundreds of years thinking what to do with whatever happened so he seems like he knows what he’s doing and maybe(!just maybe) he is trying to fix things that are wrong but we can’t see that? And of course he hates the inquisitor, he has to redo his stuff all over again, i’d hate the inquisitor too. im probably looking too much into it. My wish is that, if he’s evil, he became so gradually, but originally had good intentions? Or there’s more to things going on that we just don’t know and he does... Maybe this was his tragic attempt to fix things but he would ultimately fail and be branded as a villain etc etc. I’m getting carried away

If it turns out he’s just evil for the sake of being evil then feel free to tell me so now so i don’t embarrass myself further with plotting myself lol.

A side note, is he the Architect? Or the same? In DA2 he says he’s a tevinter magister, right? and he ceased to be a human. Also in DA2 it seemed like he was the boss, and here he said he reached in the name of someone (probably more important than him). But what is the Architect then?

And with that we reach the skyhold.

in skyhold

I didn’t know you meet hawke so soon ;__; i thought that was like, somewere more to the end of the game, since the big decision and all. But the mission is already opened and i am going to procrastinate on it until i finish every side mission :<

Also he is so sad ;__; i understand, but at the same time... all that humour now bitter sarcasm :’(

(also, very shallow remark, but i really really prefer his looks in da2 than here... it’s like they softened him. He’s more...oh god idk bearish(???) than hawkish(????) you know what i mean? the nose isn’t as sharp anymore, the beard is... what is it with the beard... anyways i get the game has its limits so it’s fine. it’s fine! fine.)

then there was the fight that i remember since twitter >:D

It’s what made me want to play dragon age and i finally reached it T-T so good! I love how you can see the both sides and everything they say is true but they’re so angry at themselves they’re taking it out on each other TAT

Cassandra later says Hawke probably wouldn’t have joined the inquisition even if she found him, and i wonder now if that’s true... At first i thought, nah, Hawke has too much of a hero complex, he would feel too responsible to just say no. Besides, he’s with the inquisition now (tho i can’t find him anywhere anymore!). But at the same time, the way da2 ends was such an iconic walking away from everything, and not taking into account the hocus-pocus rift stuff, i can imagine him refusing, especially seeing how bitter he is now. It’s also a question of how much would have cassandra told him i guess. idk, what do you think? Would he lead or nah?

another person i want to find but can’t in skyhold are the templars with ser barris. i can use them on war table missions but otherwise they’re non-existant? i forgot to talk to him back in haven but now i wonder if it was even possible and if he was even available there, since he isn’t here. I spent hours just running around skyhold looking for the guy :(

and then everything becomes unimportant bc aaaaa!! she! is the arcanist! Dagna! im so happy and proud(?) she went and reached her goals x)

anyways that’s all for now, laters

some random updates:

so i did the halamshiral and gave up to my “stick to the character” mode, and nothing went my way, but that’s life. Met morrigan! i almost forgot she appears lol. And, despite also jumping on the wagon of give-morrigan-better-clothes train, i have to admit seeing her in her old clothes was a relief after that dress at the ball. It’s not the way the dressed looked, but the way she moved in it... god im shallow

i also initially didn’t like morrigan being at orlais court of all places, but after the conversation that’s supposed to explain why she’s there i’m kinda ok with it. I mean, i still need some more info. Wouldn’t Tevinter be better? she’d practically become a magister overnight if she got this good in the game so fast. It’s also unconvincing how everyone knows everything in orlais but somehow nobody connected that the random kid that has no bakcground whatsoever with morrigan who keeps checking on him? But at skyhold she’s just “hey i have a kid, he’s no trouble, right?”  but hey, it’s morrigan. She can do anything. I’ll just have another story idea in my head.

Then there was news of the new divine that could be either cassandra or leliana and i don’t honestly know whom to choose. I’d prefer leliana over cassandra simply bc cassandra is more of a military mind, while the position of the divine would be more political. But lately every mission with leliana was spy spy, kill kill... Do we really want that for a religious leader? On the other hand, it would nicely round up her story from origins to inquisition... But cassandra is more of a public figure than leliana is...

when cassandra said:

“I want to respect the tradition, but not fear change. I want to right the past wrongs, but not avenge them. And I have no idea if wanting any of them makes them right.”

great moment. She’s usually so convinced and rash, i forget she’s more doubtful and open minded than what she looks like. Everything about cassandra is different from the impression she gives ;__; I love her so so so so much. (when she says she considers the inquisitor her friend i melted, next time varric pulls up the “seeker has no friends” joke, my heart will no longer be breaking).

I did a bunch of personal missions. Some were cool, some were ????. Also there were war table missions with zevran, that was cool. Also i love the codex entries in skyhold. The archery competition with varric banned? Dancing lessons failing bc lace harding is on the move all the time? Perfect.

And i met chargers, i like them, and aaah that staff-bow from the trailer is such a cool idea ;A;

What i don’t get with bull’s chargers is - they’re a mercenary group right? But isn’t swordselling seen as the complete misunderstanding of the qun? I get only bull is qunari, but he’s the leader of them? How is that not frowned upon?

And lastly, i don’t think i’ve said this, but i love that they added codex entries in the loading screens. love it.

update

After months of procrastination, i have faced my fears and have met alistair. it was very anticlimatic beating 11 level monsters when i was level 21...

but.. ALISTAIR TAT He’s changed... but not changed... but changed! Like, his personality is the same, but he’s more serious, doesn’t run from responsibilities, isn’t as bitter as hawke (also, why do i get impression that i am supposed to get the impression that they’re friends? they’ve met like, once, and talked for less than a minute.. whatevs. let’s pretend they’ve met again when on the run), i really love the inquisition alistair ;;__;;

Also, i managed to get that awkward demon baby family reunion :D

 know that morrigan says the vaguest generic thing “i told him his father was a good man” bc of various world states, but i also think she’s come a long way not to mock alistair, and then when he notices that she didn’t use the opportunity he mentions that the kid changed her and she’s like “pfft, yea right, you wish”....

... when she was the one who said that in the first place ;;__;;

Awwww :> I love that they bicker but softly. Kids have grown up :’) Anyways, when will alistair start paying alimony

The only weird one is Leliana bc when morrigan was introduced she was like “danger danger” (smth i’d sooner think alistair would do), and when alistair is (supposedly) in skyhold, Leli doesn’t even mention him, only hawke.  bruh, what were they to you, you almost died together ;;__;;

oh i also slayed a dragon.  I didn’t even want to fight that dragon. It was a hillarious feat of inquisitor, solas, cole and blackwall, all on level 21, having to chug all the health potions right at the beginning while fighting a dragon that was... level 13, after which i just let go of controls and suddenly everyone was hella good at fighting and slayed it (only cole needed revival several times).  

And, befitting the wild-dream feel that it had, when i got back to skyhold and visited companions, suddenly i was drinking pelin with iron bull, and he’s reminiscing on that fight with the dragon and i’m like

it was awful and you weren’t even there.

i forgot to update

but last time i was playing i finished the hawke/alistair sacrifice and all the torture i went through with deciding whom to sacrifice vanished bc frankly, at one moment, i wanted to sacrifice both of them, but in the end it was much more easier to sacrifice hawke bc inquisition hawke just didn’t feel like hawke to me, while alistair improved since the origins!

and now i remembered why i didn’t update, in the same day cassandra rejected me so i was sad and didn’t continue playing since then (i think last time i played it was around easter?)

new update

BLACKWALL!! or should i say Thom Rainier? Wow, what an arc! It was also so fun bc i was all strict mode, picking the third option, telling him his life is in inquisitor’s hands and all that, but in the end i set him free. He’s so good, a true knight T-T

Also i romanced sera. we’ll see how that goes.

Also, fave point in the game so far, i wanted, for so long, to sit at that val roeayoux (can’t spell) cafe and finally did it with cole’s personal mission. THANK YOU COLE YOU TRULY CAN READ PEOPLE’S MINDS.

another interesting thing was that after specialising as a reaver, cassandra said that drinking dragon blood makes you grow scales and become mad. Iron Bull said that inquisitor smells better bc dragon blood and that qunari generally smell better than humans. So i’m guessing qunari have fractions of dragon in them? ok...

and now i started that mission with morrigan and the puzzles are killing me lol, i am this 👌 close to just go chase calpernia and give up on a well of sorrows.

[seigephoenix]

A Taste of the Divine

So I wrote this for a DADWC prompt but then realized I misread the entire fucking thing. I swear next week I'll do this whole thing sober, maybe then I won't make a mistake again. XD

Ship: Ashwyn Lavellan x Leliana Content Warning: oral, teasing, unedited smut for your reading pleasure Length: ~2k

“Hey Inquisitor, did you see this?”  Ashwyn looked up as Bull held a piece of paper in her face, disturbing her meditation.  She grabbed it from him and studied it.  “When did you learn to read Common?”

“My clan wasn’t as isolated as many other Dalish clans.  I learned from a passing merchant that traveled with us for a season.” Ashwyn narrowed her eyes at the words and her eyebrows shot up.  “How did you get this Bull?”  She handed him the paper back.

“The papers appeared mysteriously under everyone’s doors this morning.  I wonder if they’re just not charging us for this one before extorting us once we’re hooked.”  Ashwyn laughed at how disgruntled he looked.  “If you want to hear my opinion?”

“Please tell.  I love some good gossip, especially about the nobility.”  She grinned at him as he leaned down to whisper his theory in her ear.  “Huh, are you certain?”  He nodded.  “Why would they write about your nightly escapades with Dorian?  Almost the entire castle can hear you two, it’s not exactly a secret.”

“Don’t go telling Dorian that.  He’s all up in arms and grumbling about how we have to find a new spot since someone wants to write about us.”  Ashwyn’s shoulders shook from her laughs that she muffled with her hand.

“By everyone do you mean?”

“Everyone in your private circle and you advisors.  The Commander nearly choked on his coffee this morning thinking he had a report.”  Ashwyn doubled over at the thought.  Poor Cullen.

“Well, at least it hasn’t reached outsiders unless someone shares.” She studied the handwriting before gasping.  “I didn’t receive one of these.”

“You didn’t?  Why send it to everyone else except you?  Unless you wrote them.  Did you boss?” Bull leaned against the tree as he grinned down at the elf.  She glared up at him with those lavender eyes of hers.  He grinned in answer.

“Honestly, I’d have written about my own escapades rather than yours,” Ashwyn informed him in a prim tone that reminded Bull of Chantry sisters.  He chuckled and straightened as she rose from her spot against the tree.  “I’ll see if I can’t find who it is.”

“We think it’s Varric.” Bull looked at her as she gave him a lopsided grin.  “What?  Even the Seeker says it’s him.”

“Have you asked?” Bull opened his mouth before he shut it and shook his head.  “Let’s go ask.”

They made their way into the grand hall and saw Varric surrounded by Dorian, Cassandra, and Vivienne.  “I’m telling you, it isn’t me!”  Varric held up his hands as Dorian crossed his arms.

“I find that incredibly hard to believe Varric.”  Ashwyn stepped around the three and stood next to Varric.  “Inquisitor, will you please tell Varric to leave my love life out of his notes?”

“And I’m telling you Sparkler, it wasn’t me.”  Ashwyn placed her hand on Varric’s shoulder.  “You gotta believe me Inquisitor.”

“I do.  The person who wrote the letter isn’t Varric.”  Dorian drew up in outrage.  “Come off it Dorian, you read Varric’s attempts at erotica.”

“Oh.  That, that is true.”  Dorian grasped his chin as he recalled how Varric wrote the sex scenes in his smutty book.  The two didn’t add up at all.  “Then who could it have been?”

“Thank you for believing in me Inquisitor.  Honestly, whoever did write this is a better smut author than I am.  Maybe I can contract them out to finish my series.”  Ashwyn gave him a sardonic smile and he shrugged in answer.  “A guy can dream can’t he?”

“If it isn’t Varric, then who is it?  Are all our love lives available for this person?”  Vivienne asked quietly as she stood with her hands clasped in front of her.  She appeared regal but Ashwyn noted how tense her shoulders were.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this.”  Ashwyn promised.  “Now, I need the rest of you to have a little faith in me.  Can you do that?” Ashwyn gave them a broad smile.

“I suppose we can.  You wouldn’t let something like this go after all,” Cassandra admitted and the small gathering broke up with only Ashwyn and Varric left standing there.

“You know who it is don’t you Inquisitor?”  Varric demanded and Ashwyn gave him a serene smile.  “Hah, I’d love to be a fly on the wall for this confrontation.”  He laughed as she walked back towards her quarters and summoned all her advisors at one point during the evening.

“You wanted to see me my lady?” Leliana asked quietly as she passed Josephine who was giddy at the prospect of the letter.  She arched an elegant eyebrow before turning and moving towards Ashwyn’s desk.

“Is Josephine gone?” Leliana looked down the stairs and saw the door shut.  She nodded.  “Good.”  Ashwyn turned and gave her a stern glare that melted into a fit of laughter at her incredulous look.  “Come off it Spymaster, I recognized your handwriting.”  Leliana froze for just a fraction of a second and Ashwyn tilted her head with a smile and hands clasped behind her back.

“I see.  When did you figure it out?”

“When Bull shoved it in my face.  Did you know that Dorian believes you wrote about his and Bull’s escapades?” Leliana looked so offended that Ashwyn almost broke into peals of laughter.  “I have to know why you decided to publish it.”

“I didn’t.  One of my pages must have dropped down from the rookery.  I do not part with them so easily my lady.”  Ashwyn leaned back against her desk as she crossed her arms.

“My next question.  If you did not choose to write about Dorian and Bull, then what were you saying?  To me the two lovers had no gender in the story.”  Leliana wrung her fingers together as she listened to Ashwyn speaking.  “It’s beautifully written.  I can see the love shared between the two.”

“I did not write about Bull and Dorian.” Leliana spoke quietly and Ashwyn leaned in to listen closer.

“Then who?”  Ashwyn hastily straightened when Leliana stepped closer to her.  Her heart thudded in her chest as Leliana leaned in close until their noses were touching.

“Did you not recognize yourself in there Ashwyn?”  The flush crept up Ashwyn’s neck at Leliana’s words.  She had suspected but didn’t want to say so, it seemed like something so far out of her reach to think about.  Leliana’s hand came up and gently cupped Lavellan’s cheek.  “I wrote about us.”

“Us?  But, you said there could be no us.” Ashwyn grasped the edge of her desk as she braced her weight against the sturdy wood.  Ashwyn remembered the day she’d confessed to Leliana, and had been casually brushed off.  It cut her deep but she continued to try and make Leliana take her seriously.

“I was a fool.  A fool determined to get my revenge on the people who took someone I cared deeply away from me.”  Leliana tilted Ashwyn’s face towards hers when she tried to look away.  “I can’t deny that I feel the same way about you.  It would be inappropriate for us to become involved, given our positions.”

“Like I give a.”  Leliana touched her finger to her lips, silencing the rest of her words.  A devilish idea came to her and she parted her lips only to close them over Leliana’s fingers.

“You are incorrigible.”  Leliana chuckled as she pulled her finger away, but not before she suppressed the shiver down her back.  It had been years since she’d been so close to someone, nerves danced along her belly as she looked into Lavellan’s pale purple eyes.  The color of a lavender blossom.

“So I’ve been told.”  Ashwyn lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around Leliana’s wrist, bringing her palm to her lips to press an open mouthed kiss there.  “Are you going to accept me?  All of me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure Ashwyn.” Leliana whispered as her lips brushed against hers.  A whisper soft caress that had Ashwyn craving more.  Her lips parted on a trembling breath and Leliana merely smiled and touched her tongue to that plump bottom lip.  “What’s the matter?”

“You’re evil,” Ashwyn whispered as Leliana leaned back leaving her a quivering mess.  She whined before Leliana intertwined their fingers and tugged until Ashwyn followed to her bed.

“Evil implies I am merely teasing you my lady.”  Leliana’s hand cupped the front of Ashwyn’s throat when she leaned in to nibble along her jaw.  “I fully intend to follow through with my promises.”  Ashwyn swallowed and Leliana smirked against her warm skin.  Her free hand reached between them and tugged at the clasps in front of Lavellan’s shirt, until her hand rested between her breasts.  She glanced down and saw the freckles decorating her skin and wanted to trail kisses all over them.

“How did?” Leliana leaned in until her lips brushed across Ashwyn’s in a whisper soft caress.  “Leliana.”

“I’m not holding your hands hostage my lady.  If you wish to touch, you have my permission.”  Leliana chuckled when Lavellan’s hands reached up and pulled.  She released her throat to help her lift the overcoat off her body.  Their hands did not stop moving until they stood in front of the bed with nothing hidden from each other’s gaze.

“You are beautiful,” Leliana whispered as she sat down on the bed.  Ashwyn grinned and in a lightning quick move, shoved Leliana to the bed.  “Ashwyn!”  Leliana propped herself up on her elbows as Ashwyn knelt on the floor in front of her.  Her lips nibbled on the inside of her thigh.  Leliana let out a slow breath as the heat pulsed low between her legs.

“Yes?”  Leliana reached for her but Ashwyn swatted her hand away.  “Did you lock the door behind you?”

“Ugh, no.  I forgot to.” Leliana groaned as her head fell back against the mattress.  She would never forget again.

“Hmm, so I can’t take my time.  That’s perfectly fine with me.”  Ashwyn smirked as her hands pushed her thighs apart to settle between them.

“It is not alright with me,” Leliana huffed as she looked down at her.

“Well, next time lock the door behind you.”  Her lips trailed down Leliana’s stomach, nibbling at the trembling there.  She passed over her soaked and aching folds.  She heard the slight curse from the Spymaster and smirked against her skin as she nibbled on the inside of her thigh.

“As if it’s that simple.” Leliana hissed as Ashwyn nipped at her skin.  “Now who’s being evil?”

“As you said, evil implies I don’t mean to follow through.”  Ashwyn left a trail of nibbling kisses up the inside of her thighs until her lips settled over her sensitive bundle of nerves.  She groaned as she felt how hot her body was underneath her tongue.  Leliana tangled her fingers in Ashwyn’s dark hair.  Ashwyn teased her clit with the tip of her tongue before sealing her lips and relishing in her hips bucking against her face.  Leliana’s voice sang out through her room, Ashwyn didn’t even care if they heard them outside.  She just wanted to hear more, wanted to taste more.  Lavellan slipped two fingers into her hot body, smirking against her clit when Leliana clenched around them.

Leliana arched her back as the burn coiled low and tight between her legs, pulsing in a slow ache.  Her heels dug in the mattress as she reached for that pinnacle.  “Ashwyn.  Please.”  Leliana’s head fell back as the coil burst in languid waves of heat.

Ashwyn groaned as she felt Leliana’s body spasming around her fingers and her thighs squeezed her head.  She eased her through the waves until her legs stopped trembling.  She placed a gentle kiss just above Leliana’s still throbbing clit and slid up her body, trailing gentle kisses up until her lips met Leliana’s in an achingly sweet kiss.

Lavellan let out a startled laugh when Leliana flipped them and straddled her waist.  Her fingers trailed down between her breasts, spreading her fingers out over the soft curves of her breasts.  “Now it’s my turn dear lady.” Leliana whispered with an impish gleam in her eyes.

They both paused when they heard the swift intake of breath.  They turned their heads to the side and saw Josephine holding her clipboard in front of her face.  “I saw nothing!!  I promise!”

Ashwyn dropped her head back onto the mattress and Leliana sighed before looking down at her again.  “I will lock the door next time.  I forget how popular you are.”

[astriaage]

“Let’s Have a Heart to Heart” Varric x Fem!Hawke One Shot

'“It’s good that you care, Varric. You… have a huge heart. That’s not a weakness.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” He muses under his breath.

Hawke gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s not. And for what it’s worth, I’m here for you. Always. I know it’s not the same, but-”

Suddenly, their hands shift, and Hawke finds that Varric is lacing his fingers through hers seamlessly. Caught off-guard, heat explodes in her cheeks and she blusters for the words she was going to say. She finds none. His eyes are molten staring through hers when she meets his gaze. She can’t comprehend what they say.

“You’re more than enough, Hawke. You always have been.”'

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

Following their confrontation with Bartrand in act two, Hawke meets up with Varric for a little heart to heart.

Aka. what I imagine would have happened if Varric had been made a romance-able option in DA2. Enjoy the fluff. 

READ ON AO3 HERE

It had been over three years since the first time Hawke had stumbled into the Hanged Man tavern, yet the stench and the sights alike hadn’t changed with time. It still served the same piss pour ale, the same drunk bastards still sat in the same beaten-down chairs, and, above all else, Varric Tethras was always in his suit upstairs, ready with a pint for Hawke as soon as she had stepped through the door.

That was a tradition that had sprung forth the very first time they had ever entered the tavern together. Varric had flagged down the waitress and told her that should she ever see Hawke enter the tavern’s doors she was to order up a pint of ale on Varric’s tab and have it sent up to his room, and she had made good on that promise. Tonight, however, Hawke figured she and Varric might want something a little harder. After all, she and Varric had finally confronted his lyrium-crazed brother after he had screwed them over in the Deep Roads; and, if Hawke wasn’t handling the memory of Bartrand’s maddened face well, she could only imagine how Varric was fairing.

As such, Hawke made her way to the bar, asked the tender for something a little harder, and then began her trek up the familiar steps of the Hanged Man, bottle in hand. She’d made this trek a million times before, which was probably about half a million times too many; a fact that was almost embarrassing to admit, though no one had ever remarked on the frequency of her visits before. No one besides her knew, after all, why she frequented the Hanged Man so often, though it certainly wasn’t for the drink.

Varric’s door was closed when she arrived at his room, surprising her. In all the years she had known him the dwarf had always been very receptive to guests, should they come during a reasonable hour and especially when that guest was Hawke. Maybe, she dreaded the thought, he did not want to see her at all. Still, she should try, as the closed-door was both a surprise and a concern. Hawke lifted a cautious hand and knocked the door twice, just loud enough that she was sure Varric would be able to hear. It was quiet for a moment before his voice rang out from inside.

“If that’s you Riviani, I’m not really in the mood to play Wicked Grace, right now.” Varric’s voice was raspier than normal and obviously laced with the influence of alcohol, though he did seem to put in some effort to steady his tone, at least.

Hawke lifted her chin, trying desperately to convey a smile through her voice as she talked. “Just me, I’m afraid.” She lifted her hand once again, fingers uncoiling and palm resting flat against the door. Her smile faltered. “I… was in the mood for a drink. Figured you might want to join me.”

Again, Hawke was met with quiet before a short “Ah” could be heard from the other side of the door. Then, there was a chair sliding out, a tankard being set down, heavy footsteps, and the click of a lock. Hawke removed her hand from the door as it swung open, revealing the man of the hour himself, in all his stupor. Varric’s signature outer layers and clunkier jewelry pieces had been shed, leaving him in his pants, boots, and his rolled-up low-cut shirt. He looked disheveled and at least a few drinks in, already, by the looks of it. Still, he mustered up a cocky smile that didn’t quite reach his sunken eyes before addressing Hawke.

“I’m afraid I might have started without you, Hawke,” his honeyed eyes met hers with ease, and Hawke could see the pain there in the span of a moment. “You know you’re always welcome to join me, though.”

Varric moved aside from the doorframe, making plenty of room for Hawke to enter. She did, of course, waving the bottle of alcohol she had acquired from the bartender downstairs in the air as an offering.

“Thought we could use something a little harder, tonight.”

The dwarf let out a small chuckle. “You know me too well, Hawke. Though I’m afraid I got the jump on you there, too.”

Hawke made her way to the table in the center of the room, setting the apparently unneeded bottle down, noting that there were in fact two tankards and a few large bottles already set on the table’s surface. Her eyebrows cocked in confusion as the door shut and locked behind her, Varric once again closing himself, and now her as well, off to the rest of the tavern. The dwarf made his way back to his table slowly, sighing and running a hand back through his hair, flattening it down as he sunk into his seat. Hawke eyed him with vague suspicion. It did not take long for him to notice.

“What, Hawke?” He began, taking a deep swig of whatever was already in his glass before cocking his mouth to the side in a halfhearted smirk. He looked exhausted. “You look like you’re going to jump me.” He said.

Hawke grumbled at that, taking her usual seat catty-cornered to Varric’s, in front of the empty, extra tankard. “Were you-” she paused, mulling it over, sending a soft glare at the cup, “-expecting someone?” She hated the inkling of jealousy she felt.

Varric, confused momentarily, follows Hawke’s gaze to the empty tankard in front of her before relaxing into a gentle laugh. Her eyes snap back to his. “Oh, no, that? That was for you, Hawke. In case you dropped by.” His demeanor shifts as he settles into Hawke’s familiar company, an easy smile painting his lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d be up to it, though. When you didn’t show up a couple of hours ago, I figured you were a no show, so I closed the door. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Hawke’s expression softens as she listens to the dwarf; he had waited up for her. The thought made her heart swell.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? I’ve got some catching up to do.” She holds the tankard in Varric’s direction, motioning for him to pour her a drink. He chuckles and plucks the bottle from where it sits beside him on the table, removes the cork, and pours Hawke a full glass until the bottle runs dry. He discards it next to the other empty bottle that Hawke now notices on his floor.

“Good luck.” He jokes.

They both take a swig. After a few moments of quiet drinking, Hawke sets her tankard, now mostly gone, onto the table. She shoots Varric a sympathetic, almost apologetic look and he immediately blusters.

“Varric-” she begins, but she hardly gets a word out.

“Now, Hawke-” he cuts her off, setting down his tankard with a flourish and waving his hands about in a rather dramatic fashion, characteristic of a man and avid storyteller when under the influence. “I know you’re not about to get all mushy with me about my previously-estranged, currently-insane brother.”

Hawke softens and their eyes meet, and she can see the hurt there in his amber gaze. Sure, he’d been playing it off; coating his pain with a thick veil of liquor and a dashing smile, but none of that would be enough to fool Hawke. Not when she had known him so long. She’d gotten very good at reading Varric’s emotions over the years; she’d had to. The dwarf loved to cover his actual feelings within a charm covered cage, but the years had taught her that his eyes tell much more of a story than his honeyed words ever could. Now, she could read them as easily as any book, though she couldn’t always tell why his eyes told her what they did. For now, the hurt she read there was obvious. Bartrand’s betrayal had run deep, much deeper than he had let on. Maybe it would have been easier for him had Bartrand not been under the influence of the idol. Maybe, if he had just been the asshole they’d spent the last few years thinking he was, Varric would have been able to let this go without so much as a hair out of place. But Anders had healed Bartrand for an inkling of a moment, and that allowed Varric to see his old brother on the inside, beneath his lunatic ravings. He allowed Varric to hope.

Hawke wasn’t sure if Bartrand would ever be able to come to his senses, but she hoped that with time and treatment Varric could have his old brother back. As much as he had disliked Bartrand pre-expedition, they were still family and she knew that Varric valued that. He had such fierce loyalty to his loved ones. To her, even.

“I think,” she begins, her eyes boring into him, “we should talk about it, Varric. I think it might help.”

“Now Hawke,” he starts, words coated with a false nonchalance that his eyes betrayed. “You know me, I love to talk. It’s kind of my whole thing; storytelling, and all that. But this-” He pauses, contemplates his ale, picks it up, empties the glass, and then lets out a mirthless laugh. “I have nothing to say.” He’s bristling under the pressure of Hawke’s stare, eyebrows come together and eyes refusing to meet her accusatory gaze. He’s lying, trying to pass this off as if it’s nothing, but even in his tipsy state, they both know it’s not convincing. Not to her.

“Varric, you know that’s not true.”

In an impulse, Hawke reaches out her hand, placing it atop Varric’s which rests on the table. His face relaxes then morphs into mild surprise in response, though he does not raise his eyes to hers. It wasn’t unheard of for them to touch like this, but it certainly was uncommon, as neither were the type to display easy physical affection. Words were much easier and harder to read. Touches like these, laced with affection, held deeper meaning and implications. Implications Hawke had never wanted Varric to read into. Sure, she flirted with him freely on missions as she did all of her companions, but to anyone outside of herself, it was nothing beyond witty banter. Something she shared with everyone for a laugh. But reaching for him, aching to touch him, to know what he felt like in a gentler sense, especially when they were alone, just the two of them, was too much, too telling. Especially when she was so certain he did not share her affections.

Not when she loved him; and she had for some time. She couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment when it had started, exactly, but her affection had plagued her for many years, at the least. Still, despite its depth, her attraction was a hopeless one. For as long as she had known him, Varric had pined over the woman who coined the name of his beloved bow: Bianca. Not to mention, she was nearly certain that he had little to no interest in humans past maybe a fleeting appreciative glance. Plus, there were his eyes. Certainly, after all these years together, she’d be able to tell if he shared her feelings. So, no, her affection was not returned, and therefore he had no need to know of hers. And there was certainly no reason for her to go out of her way to give him that suspicion.

Varric stared at Hawke’s hand where it rested on his before flashing a sad smile and looking away at the far wall. “You know I don’t really talk on my own feelings, Hawke.” His voice was quiet, gentle as he spoke. “I much prefer focusing on other people’s and then writing them down.”

Hawke gave him a small, empathetic smile. “I know. But I can tell this is hurting you, Varric, and I want to help.”

Sighing, Varric turns towards her and she can see him contemplate something for a moment before his entire face softens to match the hurt in his eyes. “Fine. I should have known you’d crack me, Hawke. Let’s talk. You always did have a way with words.”

She smiles. “Aw, you think so? Have my advances finally gotten through to you then, oh stubborn dwarf?” The joke is a little close to home for Hawke’s comfort, but the genuine grin and chuckle she receives from Varric in return proves it was worth it and causes her heart to flutter.

“Of course they’ve made an impression, Hawke,” he’s grinning now, “how could they not.”

She knows he’s joking, that he’s just responding in turn to her bit. But her heart swirls with a mixture of joy and pain, both wishing those words were true and knowing that they’re not. She can feel a slight blush heat her cheeks and she can only hope that her signature red paint mixed with a sidelong glance will cover her tracks. She forces herself to refocus.

“Anyways,” she distracts, “Bartrand.”

Varric sighs, any smile he had, dropped. “Yes, Bartrand.”

“I’m sorry, Varric.”

“So am I.” Varric meets her eyes again, and the emotions there are so raw and so many that she has a hard time deciphering their depths. “I know our relationship was rocky at the best of times, but he was still family, ya’ know? We grew up together. We were business partners. When he betrayed us in the Deep Roads, I was so ready to hate him. I thought there would be no going back. But, seeing what Blondie did to him, Hawke… How he… brought him back. Bartrand isn’t himself, wasn’t himself. Probably hasn’t been for a long time. How could I blame him when he’s like that?”

He looked so troubled when he spoke, hurt lacing his voice and sobering up the edge he had been given by the alcohol. His hand stayed beneath Hawke’s on the table, though neither dared to move them.

“You did the right thing,” Hawke began, eyes soft and boring into his, “giving him another chance like that. Letting him get help. I know you gave me the final call and all, but that was very big of you. I didn’t think the poor bastard stood a chance at survival when we first approached the mansion.”

He scoffed. “Neither did I. I was ready to kill him, Hawke. Especially after I had learned what he had done to his help. But in the end I. I couldn’t. Bartrand is a bastard but he’s still my brother; and knowing he wasn’t in his right mind when he screwed us over and hurt all those people… It really fucked me over.” He sighed.

“It’s good that you care, Varric. You… have a huge heart. That’s not a weakness.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” He muses under his breath.

Hawke gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s not. And for what it’s worth, I’m here for you. Always. I know it’s not the same, but-”

Suddenly, their hands shift, and Hawke finds that Varric is lacing his fingers through hers seamlessly. Caught off-guard, heat explodes in her cheeks and she blusters for the words she was going to say. She finds none. His eyes are molten staring through hers when she meets his gaze. She can’t comprehend what they say. “You’re more than enough, Hawke. You always have been.”

To her disappointment, Varric unthreads their fingers within a moment and uncorks the extra bottle Hawke had brought, refilling both their tankards. He takes a swig.

“Blondie is a lucky man.”

And suddenly, Hawke is confused. “What?” She says, coming out of her stupor and addressing him directly, eyebrows drawn together and face screwed with emotion. “What are you talking about, Varric?”

Now it was Varric’s turn to look confused, though that confusion was quickly replaced with a cover-up smirk and false laugh. “Come now, Hawke, I’m not blind.”

Did he think she was toying with him? Her eyebrows drew impossibly closer together. “Varric, I’m not joking, I-” she began, then the realization of what he was implying hit her full force. “Wait,” she blustered, “You think I- that Anders and I are together?”

Varric, to his credit, did not miss a beat. “Of course?” He stated, nonchalant as if what he was implying was some universal truth.

It stung Hawke, deeply, to think that not only was Varric unbeknownst to her true feelings, he also was so ignorant he thought she was actually with someone else. Sure, it was true that she had shown Anders perhaps more kindness than others within their small group of ragtag friends, and there had been a short time where she had considered that they might have something together. But that inkling had gone as quickly as it had been born, squashed by her feelings for the dwarf, and if she showed him any special kindness now it was bred only out of compassion for their shared plight against the templars and the church. She could not believe that Varric, of all people, had misconstrued that into something that it clearly was not.

“Varric,” she began, voice steady and eyes unwavering on his, “Anders and I are not together. We never were.”

Varric’s eyes were wide with surprise. Unceremoniously, he stood from his chair, pacing slowly, hand raking through his hair in a stupor. “So, you’re...” he paused, turning to Hawke, finger pointed in her direction as she sat. Hawke shook her head in agreeance. “Well damn. That’s going to take a while to rewrite.” He muttered, aside.

“Sorry to add another draft to your workload.”

He did not remark on her comment and instead once again turned away from Hawke, face hidden from her view. “Is there… anyone else, then? Broody, maybe? Daisy? Choir boy?” He questioned, and Hawke could not make out what emotion was lacing through his voice. "Oh god, it's not Riviani is it?" His voice was shaky and odd, perhaps fueled by the liquor in his system, and altogether very unlike the steady, calm dwarf she usually knew and loved.

Hawke let out an empty laugh. “If you’re looking for some steamy content for your books, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint.” Her heart ached as she stared at his back. This was not a conversation they had ever even approached before, and Hawke wished for its speedy closure. It hurt to discuss her unrequited love when the object of her unreturned affections was right in front of her. “I haven’t been with anyone since I came to Kirkwall.”

He did not turn. “Why not?”

It was a simple question, asked concisely and to the point. Yet, the weight it held was immense and threatened to crush Hawke underneath its pressure. She struggled with the right words to say. “I’m,” she began, tentatively, “afraid I gave my heart away years ago to someone who doesn’t want it.”

They sat in quiet for a moment, Varric’s back turned, unresponsive, Hawke’s heart threatening to break free from her chest. She didn’t know why the atmosphere of the room had become so thickened, and it was impossible to tell what was going on through Varric’s head with his back turned towards her. She felt like she might explode. “Varric?” She questioned with hesitance. He answered, slowly:

“Hawke, feel free to stab me if I got this wrong, okay?”

And suddenly, before Hawke even had time to think, Varric had turned, large hands caressing either side of her face, and his lips were on hers.

At first, she didn’t know what to think as she froze to her spot. Soon, however, as reality set in, she melted seamlessly into the kiss, eyes closing as one hand came up to clutch his shirt, and her other wrapped around the back of his neck and into his hair. It felt like Hawke could finally breathe after years with no air. Varric had stolen her heart and given her renewed life within the same breath of a moment, and it was all she could do not to lose herself in it.

Soon, however, Varric pulled away, hands still resting on Hawke’s cheeks, and amber eyes melting with compassion Hawke had not been able to decipher before.

“You didn’t stab me.” Was all he could say.

“I didn’t.” Was all she could respond.

One of his hands moved to cradle the back of her neck as the other remained and stroked small circles onto her cheek. She let out a small hum from the back of her throat, leaning into his touch as her eyes drifted shut. In this position, with him standing in front of her between her legs, Varric stood over her. It was an intoxicating feeling, having him this close, eyes only for her; she couldn’t even begin to convey how long she had wanted this. He kissed her again.

“How long,” he began, lips buzzing against hers before he pulled further away, eyes hooded and taking in every inch of her face at this new distance, reading her as she had him all these years. “How long have I had my head up my ass, Hawke?”

She hummed, blush staining her cheeks as she ran her hand over his heart, eyes lowered to where it now rests. “Hard to say,” she started, “at least since the expedition. But I’d wager I felt this way long before that.”

Varric visibly flinched at that, hands starting to withdraw with shame before Hawke caught them within her own grip, placing them back where they were before he tried to leave.

“Fuck, Hawke-” he began, pity lacing his voice and hurt coating his expression. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.” She smiles, pulling him down into a short kiss, her eyes and heart full of love for him. “How could you have? I never told you.”

He sighs. “I should have seen it.”

She shook her head. “Varric, it’s really fine. I thought you had no interest in me, either.”

He startles at this, eyes wide until he breaks into a grin, a small chuckle on his lips. “Have you seen yourself, Hawke? You’re beautiful, badass, and,” he continues, planting a peck to her forehead as he speaks, “with your wit, how could I not fall for you.”

Her heart swells with his admission. “How long have you known?”

Varric laughs. “Since day one, sweetheart.” His familiar cocky smirk paints his face, and Hawke feels like she might explode with happiness. “That kid on the street stole your coin purse, and you stole my heart.”

“Maker,” she laughs, “that was horrible.”

Varric smiles a large, genuine smile. “Horrible, maybe; but it’s true.”

“And you call yourself an author.” She laughs, then says, simply: “I love you.” and saying it out loud brings an enormous weight off of her shoulders that she did not know she was carrying. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to keep from saying that all these years. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times.”

Varric’s eyes swell with emotion, as he pulls Hawke from her chair and onto her feet. Stepping backward, he leads her to his bed until they reach the edge and he nudges her until the back of her knees touch the mattress and she is inclined to sit down. Once she’s seated again, he pulls her into another deep kiss, until they part, foreheads resting together, and hands intertwined. He’s smirking at her, but his eyes are soft and telling.

“Stay with me, Hawke. You’ll have plenty of chances to tell me how you feel, then.”

He says it lightheartedly, like a joke, giving her an easy out should she want to say no. Which was, of course, sweet but unnecessary. Hawke could never deny him; especially not now. She inches herself further back onto the bed as she grabs the collar of his shirt, enticing him to join her. He crawls onto the bed as Hawke lowers herself onto her back, and Varric follows suit, his slightly smaller frame hovering over her as she lay.

“Of course.” She says, and she could almost cry, she’s so happy. Her hand traces his face absentmindedly as she takes everything in.

“I love you, Hawke.” He says, and her breath nearly stops. Sure, he had essentially told her only a moment ago, but this was the first time that had been proper and complete. She pulls him down into a kiss.

“I love you, too.” She reminds him against his lips.

Over, and over, and over again.

[pikapeppa]

Felassan/f!Lavellan: Braids

Chapter 23 of The Love That Grows From Violence (post-Trespasser Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted! WITH ART THIS WEEK by the inimitable and glorious @elbenherzart​!!

~5900 words; read on AO3 here instead. 

The next day, after their usual morning routine of breakfast and sparring, Felassan decided to finish reading This Shit Is Weird. He settled one of the plush sofas in the study while Tamaris stripped the wallpaper from the study walls, and he made his usual cheeky comments on the book as he read, which kept her entertained for a time.

It wasn’t long before he really sank into the book, however, and Tamaris understood why: he was reading the section about the Temple of Mythal, which was followed shortly after by the tale about going into the deep roads and discovering the existence of Titans — the two parts of the book that Felassan had been anticipating the most.

By the time Tamaris’s stomach was clamouring for lunch, Felassan was still reading in a very intense silence. She padded over to him and tapped his shoulder. “I’ll make some sandwiches,” she said quietly. “Is grilled cheese and ham all right?”

He looked up at her with a smile and took her hand. “Kiss me first. To help me concentrate.”

Her belly did a little leap of pleasure. She gave him a chiding smile. “I thought kissing you helped you with your magic, not your concentration.”

“It helps me with a great number of things,” he replied. 

She tsked, then bent over to kiss him. He slid his hand into her hair and gently nipped her lower lip, and when he finally released her, her heart was fluttering like a hummingbird.

He smiled and stroked her jaw with his thumb, then lowered his hand. “Try putting some mustard in the sandwiches,” he said. “Mustard and apricot jam. Just a small amount of both.”

“You’ll take your sandwich how I make it and you’ll be happy,” she scolded.

Felassan’s easy laughter followed her out of the study, and she couldn’t help but grin in response as she made her way to the kitchen.

When she returned to the study twenty minutes later, Felassan was sitting cross-legged on the sofa and reading with a stunned look on his face. Tamaris set the tray on the sofa and sat on the floor. “Which part are you reading?” she said quietly. 

He looked up at her. “You were inside of a Titan? Actually inside of it?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was…” She shook her head at the memory. “It was fucking vast. Cavernous, literally. If not for the heart, we wouldn't have known it was a living—”

Felassan interrupted her. “The heart was intact, then?”

He looked very serious, and Tamaris eyed him cautiously. “As far as I could tell. Valta didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it, and she was connected or tapped into the Titan, or whatever it was that happened to her...” She trailed off as Felassan’s eyebrows rose.

“Valta tapped into the Titan?” he said quietly. 

Tamaris frowned. “Yes. Have you not finished reading that part yet?”

“Not quite.”

She waved at the book. “Go on then, finish reading it!”

“I will, once I’ve eaten,” he said. He put the book aside and picked up a sandwich.

Tamaris watched guiltily as he took a bite of his food. “Felassan, it’s okay,” she said. “You can read while you eat. I promise I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” he said. “I would prefer to talk to you while I eat.”

His expression was warm and open, and it lifted an answering warmth in her chest. “All right,” she said, and she picked up her sandwich.

Felassan took another bite and hummed approvingly. “You put in the mustard and jam.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to argue with the thousands-of-years-old chef.”

He chuckled. “It’s nice to know you respect my age, if nothing else.”

She wrinkled her nose playfully and took another bite, and Felassan swallowed before speaking again. “I see that Fen’Harel is notably absent during this adventure. He decided not to come?”

“Oh.” Tamaris pulled a little face. “Um, no. I… told him not to come.”

Felassan raised his eyebrows, and she shrugged awkwardly. “He broke up with me when we were on our way to the Storm Coast to deal with the deep roads collapse. So I told him to go back to Skyhold.” A sudden flash of a memory crossed her mind: the way Solas’s expression had melted from tender to tragic, right before he told her he had distracted her from her duty and that it would never happen again. 

Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you dare fucking look at me like you ever loved me. Her own furious words rang in her ears, and for a split second, she felt like a stone had dropped onto her diaphragm.

“Ir abelas,” Felassan said quietly.

She blinked and looked up at Felassan — beloved Felassan, with his clear purple eyes full of tenderness and truth. 

She took a deep breath. “Don’t apologize,” she said softly. She took another bite of sandwich and shrugged. “Honestly, it was for the best.”

“How so?” he said.

“If he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth after a year, he was never going to trust me,” she said. “I couldn't see that at the time, but it’s obvious now. We would never have worked out with that many secrets between us.” 

Felassan didn’t reply right away. After a few seconds of silence, Tamaris looked up to find him watching her with a little smile. 

Her heart leapt at the obvious fondness in his face. She bashfully tucked her hair behind her ear. “What?” she said. 

His smile widened slightly. Then he tilted his head. “If it is any comfort to you, you are not the only one he didn’t trust.”

Tamaris nodded. Felassan had mentioned before how strict and withdrawn Solas had become around the time that he began developing the magic to make the Veil. “What happened exactly to make him so suspicious?” she asked. “I saw some of the memories in the Vir Dirthara slandering him, but… was it really just that? The propaganda against him?”

Felassan’s expression started to sober. “I suspect I’ll be telling you and Varric in detail tonight. Which reminds me: we should invite him over, if you wish for him to know about the Titans.”

“I’ll send the raven after lunch,” she said.

Felassan nodded. “I’ll be sure to make something non-spicy for him.”

Tamaris mock-pouted. “What about me?”

Felassan’s smile chased away the melancholy in his face. “I’ll make you something spicy tomorrow.” He playfully tweaked her hair. “You are getting terribly pampered. How did you survive before you met me?”

“By eating a lot of shitty food, apparently,” she said dryly.

He laughed heartily. “This sandwich is far from shitty, avise.” He inclined his head in that regal way he had. “Thank you for the lunch.”

She smirked at his manners and took another bite, and they spent the rest of their lunch break comparing ancient Elvhen and Dalish dishes and marvelling at the similarities and differences between their cuisines. When their lunch was finished, Felassan stretched out on the couch and went back to his reading, and Tamaris sent a raven to the Viscount’s Keep before starting to wash the residual glue from the now-stripped walls. 

Washing the walls was sweaty work, and she eventually stripped off her shirt and put her hair up into a messy bun to try and be a little more comfortable. Some time later, she glanced at Felassan to find him lounging lazily on the couch and watching her with a little smile on his face. 

She wiped some sweat from her forehead. “Paint a picture,” she said teasingly. “It’ll last longer.”

His smile widened. “Come over here.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you finished reading?”

He nodded. “Varric has no further reason to resent me,” he said. He patted the couch and gave her a winning smile. 

She padded over to the couch and sat beside his outstretched legs. “So? What did you think?”

“I think that Varric has spun a fine story here,” he said. “I hope to spin one for you tonight that is just as entertaining.”

“He wasn’t spinning a story,” she protested. “He was just… beefing up some parts and downplaying others.”

Felassan lifted one eyebrow, and Tamaris smiled sheepishly. “Okay, fine, he was spinning a story.”

He chuckled, and Tamaris poked his belly. “But you’ve gotten to hear the real version.”

He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I do get to enjoy that rare boon, yes. Insofar as any version of a story can be real.”

She shot him an odd look, and he casually waved his hand. “Oh, I’m not questioning the veracity of your and Varric’s telling. Just commenting that there are versions of every truth.” 

She frowned. “Yes, but there are also objective facts. The facts of a story are just as important as the way they’re interpreted.”

He tilted his head. “Would you prefer for me to stick to the facts in my telling of ancient history, then?”

She hesitated. Her instinctive answer was to say that yes, she just wanted the facts. But she didn’t want Felassan to feel like she was just pumping him for information. Whatever he told them tonight was sure to put that look on his face, that anachronistically world-weary look that made her heart ache, and it would be cruel for her to force him to turn that heartache into an objective report.

Besides, she had heard what ‘just the facts’ sounded like in Felassan’s voice: his telling of the time he’d spent as a Tranquil. She didn’t ever want to hear him sounding so flat and lifeless again. 

“No,” she finally said. “You should tell us however it makes sense to you. I just… I just want answers.” She sighed. “I’m not going to like them, but… I need to know.”

“I’ll do my best to make your answers as entertaining as possible, then,” he said softly. Then he lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “What is the objective truth, anyway? It is like the humans’ Maker: something that everyone insists is real, but the more you seek it, the more gaps and questions you’ll find instead.”

She snorted a little laugh. “Now you’re just trying to cheer me up by making fun of the Chantry.”

“Is it working?” he said. 

“I hate to admit it, but yes,” she said dryly.

“Good,” he said. “I haven’t lost my wily words, then.” He pushed himself upright on the couch, then leaned forward and playfully nibbled her neck.

She wrinkled her nose and waved him off. “I’m all sweaty.”

“Is that meant to deter me?” he said. He nipped the juncture of her shoulder and neck, then reached up and released her hair from its bun.

“Ugh, why?” she complained. She pulled her hair away from her neck. “You’re just going to make me sweatier.”

He playfully smacked her hand. “I’m going to braid it.”

“That’s so much work,” she protested.

“It will be worth it,” he said. “You have beautiful hair.” He shifted slightly so he was sitting on her left side, then gently combed his fingers through her hair: enough to smooth out any snags without breaking up her curls too much. 

She scoffed. “Are you jealous of my curls?”

“Very,” he said with a smile. He began carefully parting her hair to the left. 

She sighed and relaxed into his capable hands, but she couldn’t help one last playful dig. “If you leave my hair as a tangled mess, you’re going to be the one picking out the knots.” 

He tsked, to her amusement. “Don’t insult me so. I know exactly what I’m doing.” He began twisting a braid into her hair on the exposed left side, keeping the braid tight to the scalp. “In ancient Arlathan, the braiding of hair was an art. Some people spent their days coming up with elaborate hairstyles with curls, plaits, ornaments and feathers, and even horns.”

Tamaris huffed. “Just goes to show how much time you ancients had on your hands.”

“Don’t be rude,” he said drolly. “We were not so different from this time, really. Think of the Orlesians and their masks. The Antivans and their clever tailoring. Extravagant beauty of some form is a mainstay of every culture. And as with every culture, such elaborate beauty was more than just an art. For my people, elaborate braids were a sign of status.” He smoothed his fingers over the braid he’d made, which now spanned just behind her ear. “The more ornate the style, the closer you were to the gods.”

“Of course,” she muttered. Then she shot him a curious look. “What did your hair look like in the past?”

“For a long time when I was young, I wore simple braids and styles, not unlike what I do now.” He shrugged. “Simplicity befitting of an Evanuris’s household staff, you know. Then, for a time, I had no hair.”

She blinked in surprise. “No hair? Like Solas?”

His answering smile was a little crooked. “Not quite. Fen’Harel shaved his head of his own free will. The Evanuris forced us — the slaves, that is — to shave our heads.”

Tamaris frowned. “Why?”

Felassan paused in his braiding and tilted his head. “Can you imagine what it would feel like to be forced to shave your head against your will?”

Her mind conjured an image of her lustrous black curls being shaved by force by a human, and her stomach lurched. She took a deep breath. “It would feel like being stripped in public,” she said quietly. “It would be… humiliating.”

Felassan nodded and continued braiding her hair. “The Evanuris said it was to help us stay clean and hygienic. But those of us who were freed knew the truth. It was a means to subjugate us. To make it easier for them to use and discard us, once they had shorn us of that which was seen as a sign of beauty and closeness to the gods that we all revered.”

His voice was hardening as he spoke. Tamaris turned her head slightly to look at him. “Ir abelas,” she said softly.

He met her eye, and the anger in his face softened slightly. “Ma serannas,” he said quietly. He smoothed his fingers over the braid he’d made along the left side of her head, then gently squeezed her shoulder. “Turn so your back is to me.”

She did as she was told. Once she was settled, Felassan lifted a small section of her loose hair and began making a small plait. “Once Fen’Harel freed us, we could grow our hair again and wear it however we wished,” he told her. “Some choose to keep their heads shaved as a reminder of what had been done to them, and a reminder of what they had overcome. Others wished to wear marvelous hairstyles like those of the Evanuris, because why shouldn’t they? But many of them did not know how to create such styles anymore. Those of us who remembered, like myself and Fen’Harel, helped them with this.”

Tamaris raised her eyebrows. “Fen’Ha— I mean, Solas helped people to braid their hair?”

“Yes,” Felassan said. “He was highly skilled in the braiding of hair, in fact. Did he never offer to braid yours?”

She shook her head slightly. “I very rarely wear my hair in braids, though. I can’t be bothered.”

Felassan huffed in amusement. “I don’t blame you. I can rarely be bothered to do more than the simplest styles myself.” He continued plaiting small locks of her hair. “Regardless, Fen’Harel was very good at braiding hair. He had elaborate hair himself for a very long time, you know.”

Tamaris snorted. “You’re lying.”

“I would never lie about something so glorious,” Felassan said. “At one point, he had long beautiful braids reaching down to his waist, studded with beads and rings of gold.”

Tamaris turned around partway to give him an incredulous look. “Braids with beads and rings? You’re fucking kidding.”

He grinned. “I promise you, I’m not. I wish I had some of those beads and rings, in fact. They would look exquisite on you.” He eyed her hair wistfully, then shrugged and began making another small braid. “I shall ask Varric to find some for us.”

Tamaris scoffed at the frivolous request. Then she sobered. “But you said he chose to start shaving his head. Why…?” She trailed off with a frown and thought for a moment, then glanced at Felassan again. “He shaved his head out of solidarity?”

He gave her a small and slightly melancholy smile. “In support of those that he freed, yes. And in defiance of the elaborate styles of the Evanuris. He sought to divorce himself from the Evanuris — to show clearly that he was not of them. And many of the freed slaves felt more comfortable in his presence when they saw that the famed Fen’Harel looked like them, even if he had never been a slave himself.”

Tamaris nodded slowly. Then she shot Felassan a little frown. “Do you think it’s odd that Solas was the leader of the freed slaves, even though he wasn’t one of them?”

He smiled. “Do you think it odd that you were the leader of the Inquisition, even though you do not believe in Andraste?”

“Every single fucking day,” Tamaris said flatly.

Felassan laughed. “Fen’Harel did, as well. For that reason, he was always very insistent that each freed slave’s life was their own, and they owed him no fealty. I chose to become his spy, but others simply chose to live in peace in Arla’fen, or to flee to the outer edges of the empire to start a new life outside of the Evanuris’s reach — or as far from their reach as possible, in any case.” He sighed. “I have long felt that this is part of what made him so lonely.”

“What do you mean?” Tamaris asked.

Felassan lowered his hands and looked her in the eye. “Imagine an elf who was once a spirit, standing as the favoured companion of one of the Evanuris, but not being one of them. An elgar’venathe who spent much of his time freeing slaves in secret, but he was not one of them, either.”

She frowned slightly, but with a pang in her chest. Felassan smiled faintly, then stood up and sat on her right side. “The Dread Wolf trod carefully and skillfully in many worlds, but he did not truly belong to any of them,” he said. He lifted another lock of her hair and began forming another small plait.

Tamaris was quiet for a long moment as she remembered Solas’s solitude, and how he had always kept himself apart from the rest of the Inquisition…  No, wait. That wasn’t true. There was one person he’d always seemed far more comfortable around — someone other than Tamaris herself.

Cole, she thought. Solas had always been particularly fond of Cole, and particularly loquacious with him. Then there was Solas’s spirit friend in the Exalted Plains — the only old friend Solas had ever spoken of. 

She glanced at Felassan. “I think he wished he was still a spirit.”

Felassan met her gaze. His expression was pensive and a little bit sad. “I have often thought the same thing.”

“Why did he become an elf, then?” she asked. “Or, um, take a… what did you call it? Take on a corporeal form?”

“Because Mythal asked him to,” Felassan said. 

Tamaris blinked in surprise. “Seriously?”

Felassan nodded, and Tamaris gazed at him with wide eyes. “Why?” she asked. 

He gave her another sad little smile. “I will tell you tonight when Varric comes.” He leaned back slightly and smoothed his hand over her hair. “In the meantime, you should find a mirror and look at my work. You are even more stunning than usual.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.” She stood up and made her way to the elaborately-framed mirror in the front foyer, and when she caught sight of her own hair, she stopped short in surprise. 

The left side was bound in a perfect tight braid that coursed along the side of her scalp and behind her ear, then flowed down over her shoulder. The rest of her hair lay in loose tousled curls as usual, but sections of it were caught up in tiny braids that looked like ornaments in and of themselves. 

She raised her eyebrows. She wasn’t used to seeing her hair in such a fancy style, and the contrast between the sleek left side and the wild right was… interesting. In a good way. 

In a really good way, actually. She glanced at Felassan, who had followed her into the foyer and was leaning casually against the wall with his arms folded. “I like it,” she said.

He smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t snarl your hair into a mess of tangles for no good reason, then.”

She winced. “All right, fine, what I said before was rude. I’m sorry. I really like how this looks, though.” She patted the sleek braid on the left, then frowned; there was nothing fastening the bottom of the braid, yet it wasn’t unravelling.

She looked up at Felassan again. “How is this staying in place?”

“Magic,” he said.

She gave him a chiding look, then paused; he was smiling still, but his expression wasn’t jocular. 

Her eyes widened. “Wait, are you being serious?”

He nodded, and her jaw dropped. “How…?”

He shrugged. “It just… came to me without thinking. An automatic pattern of the fingers and the mind, it seems.”

She gaped at him with growing wonder. “But that’s… that’s good, right?” She gestured at her hair. “This was exactly what you mean to do, right?”

“It was, yes,” he said.

Her belly leapt with excitement. “It came to you naturally like breathing,” she said. “You did exactly what you mean to without thinking about it! That’s how magic is supposed to feel to you, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes, Tamaris, it is.”

“But that’s — Felassan, that’s incredible!” she exclaimed. “That’s…” She gaped at him in awe, then suddenly flung her arms around him in a hug. “That’s incredible!”

He hugged her back, but his words were cautionary. “This was just a small feat, avise. Don’t get carried away.”

“I’m not getting carried away!” she protested. “This is incredible! And it doesn’t matter if it was just a small thing. It felt the way it was supposed to. That means everything you’ve been doing is working!” She leaned away and poked his chest. “You’re on your way to getting your magic back, see? I knew you would!”

“Everything we have been doing is working, you mean,” he said. “I would not have reached this point if not for you.”

“Well, neither would I,” she said. “I’d still be a bitter drunk mess if not for you. Fair’s fair.”

He gave her a chiding look. “You discredit yourself so quickly. You would have found your bearings in time.”

“So would you,” she retorted.

He gave her a slow and breathtaking smile. “We are a well-matched pair, then,” he said. “Two non-broken people who helped each other to become even less broken.”

She gazed at him, wordless with pride and adoration, and in the warmth of his smile and his brilliant violet eyes, she could see the reflection of the feeling that was making her heart pulse with happiness. She and Felassan were more than just two people who had helped each other. Through each other’s eyes, they’d rediscovered something in themselves that they’d each thought was lost, and over the course of that discovery, they’d twined their lives together in a way that Tamaris would never have thought possible with someone she’d known for so little time. 

She smiled helplessly at him, then pulled him close for a kiss. He immediately sank into her kiss, parting his lips under the coaxing pressure of her mouth and sliding his tongue sinuously along the length of her own. He gently nipped her lips with that exquisitely gentle care that told her how much he was savouring the taste of her mouth, and by the time he gently peeled his mouth away from hers, she was panting. 

He ran his thumb across her cheek. “We have a pocket of time now before Varric comes,” he murmured. “I wonder what we should we do with it?”

She smirked; she could tell exactly what he had in mind from the heated and mischievous look on his face. All the same, she playfully tilted her head. “What did you have in mind?”

He chuckled. The sound was more of a purr than a laugh, and it sent a lovely shiver down her spine. He leaned in and brushed his lips to hers, and his silky reply was a whisper of warmth over her lips. 

“I believe we should… go finish washing the walls in the study,” he murmured.

Cheeky ass, she thought happily. Then she hopped into his arms.

Felassan caught her with a laugh of surprise as she looped her legs around his waist. “Later,” she said huskily, and she kissed him once more. 

He kissed her back and carried her to the sofa in the study. And for a lovely, blissful time, they indulged themselves in a discovery of a more carnal kind.

***************************

Late that afternoon, Varric arrived with a box of fine Antivan chocolates and a wry smile. “Hey,” he said, and he handed the chocolates to Tamaris. “These arrived at my office this morning. They’re from Ruffles.” He took his usual seat at the dining table. “Thought we might need them if Jester’s going to be telling us some horror stories tonight.” He glanced at the kitchen, where Felassan was finishing up dinner. 

“Good thinking,” Tamaris said. She sat across from him and shot him an apologetic look. “Listen, I was being an ass last night. I shouldn’t have just stormed off like I did.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Varric said. “Honestly, Cuddles, I don’t blame you. It’s a tough time for everyone.”

“That’s kind of my point, though,” she said. “You’re so calm. How are you so calm through all of this? Aren’t you angry?”

Varric shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t see the point. This isn’t our first disaster, remember?”

“I know, but still.” She leaned her elbows on the table. “Tell me your dwarven secrets. How are you so fucking pleasant all the time?”

He huffed in amusement. “You don’t know that I’m pleasant all the time. Maybe I spend my evenings gnashing my teeth and wailing before I go to bed.”

Tamaris clicked her tongue. “Seriously. How are you coping with this so well?”

“Honestly?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’ve been writing something.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? What are you writing?”

He tugged an earring. “It’s… something really stupid.”

Felassan piped in. “It’s smut, isn’t it?” He slid a platter of fragrant salmon and rice onto the table, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Tamaris called after him. 

“It is a solid third of everything I think about, yes,” he called back. 

Tamaris snorted in amusement and turned back to Varric. To her surprise, Varric was looking vaguely embarrassed. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s a trashy romance thing.”

“But I thought you didn’t like writing those!” Tamaris said in surprise.

He shrugged again. “Eh, I’ve changed my mind. They’re not so bad. It’s less pressure too, since almost nobody reads my romance serials.”

“So why are you doing it, then?” she asked.

“Because it’s relaxing, Cuddles,” he said wryly. “You asked me how I relax, that’s how I relax.”

She peered carefully at him. “Are you saying you… you know? While writing them?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Varric rolled his eyes. “You’re just as bad as Jester. The two of you need to find a new hobby.”

“I take offense to that,” Felassan said as he re-entered the room with a platter of grilled vegetables. He gave Tamaris a chiding look. “I wouldn’t make such a crude suggestion to our esteemed writer. Varric is obviously writing another romance serial for Cassandra.”

Tamaris scoffed. “No he’s not.” She turned to Varric. “Are you?”

Varric grimaced slightly and tugged his earring again, and Tamaris’s jaw dropped. “You are?” 

“Of course he is,” Felassan said. He began serving everyone’s food. “He said almost no one reads his serials, and we all know who his most avid fan is.”

“All right, fine, I am,” Varric grumbled. “But it’s just for fun. Honestly, I think the Seeker gets more out of it than I do.”

That makes it even sweeter, Tamaris thought, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by pointing this out. 

Felassan, as usual, had fewer qualms than she. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said. “Exceedingly considerate, in fact. I was just telling Tamaris the other day that we should invite Cassandra to visit sometime.”

Tamaris kicked him under the table, but he didn’t even bat an eye. Varric, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow. “Visit Kirkwall? Why?”

“Why not?” Felassan said. He waved his arm in a vague gesture. “We have this large empty house. She would be welcome to stay. Wouldn’t she, Tamaris?” He shot her a very innocent smile.

“Of course she would, Felassan,” Tamaris said through clenched teeth. “But she is pretty busy with, you know, rehabilitating Tranquils and the Seekers and all that.”

“Everyone needs a break sometimes,” Felassan said cheerfully. To Varric he said, “Do you think we should invite her to stay?”

“I mean, you could,” Varric said. “Cuddles is right, though; she might be too busy. Wouldn’t mind seeing her, though.” He popped some salmon in his mouth and eyed Tamaris thoughtfully. “Your hair is different. It looks dressed up.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Felassan said. 

Varric smirked at him. “Your handiwork, I’m guessing?”

“It certainly is,” he said with a smile. Then he snapped his fingers. “Ah, forgive me; I forgot the sauce for the salmon.” He rose from the table and leaned in to kiss Tamaris’s cheek, but as his lips brushed her cheekbone, he whispered to her. “Take note that he changed the subject.”

Smug fucking spy, she thought, but of course she couldn’t say a word. Felassan sauntered away to the kitchen, and Tamaris smiled tightly at Varric, whose eyebrows were quirked in a quizzical expression. 

“Um, yeah,” she said lamely. “I look fucking fancy now.” She speared some vegetables and salmon on her fork. “Be careful that he doesn’t offer to braid your chest hair. I don’t think he’s above it.”

“I heard that,” Felassan called from the kitchen. 

Tamaris smirked, and Varric chuckled. Felassan returned to the table, and they spent the rest of their meal chatting casually about local goings-on and a book that all three of them had read when it came out about ten years ago. 

When their meal was done and Tamaris had finished tidying the kitchen, they retired to the library with Varric’s chocolates and Tamaris’s sending crystal so Dorian could be included in the discussion. Varric sat in an armchair while Felassan plopped onto one of the plush couches and stretched out his legs, and Tamaris settled herself cross-legged on the floor by Felassan’s couch and swept her thumb over the sending crystal. 

A few moments later, Dorian’s voice floated through. “Tamaris! I was just thinking of you. I had hoped you were missing the mellifluous sound of my voice.” 

“I missed you desperately, Dorian,” she said dryly. “Felassan and Varric are here too.”

“A whole party of people who miss me dearly!” Dorian said brightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Varric replied. “It’s storytime with the ancient elf. We thought you’d want to join in.”

“Oh, is Felassan telling us tales of the past?” Dorian said. “How amusing.”

“Amusing is what I always strive for,” Felassan said. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Disturbing is what the result will likely be, unfortunately.”

“Even better,” Dorian said.

Tamaris raised an eyebrow. “Really? You want to be disturbed?”

“I want to be accurately informed,” Dorian said. “What Abelas told us at the Well of Sorrows has never left my mind, you know. To know that my people were scavengers, not conquerors… it means something. We should never have striven for that reputation of the glorious conquerers in the first place, and to know that we never were is humbling, in a good way.”

Felassan’s smile was soft. “You are wise beyond your years and your race, my friend.”

“I do believe that was a compliment,” Dorian said. “If so, I will happily accept.”

Tamaris rolled her eyes. “Do you two need some time alone to bond?”

Felassan playfully tugged her braid. “Don’t be jealous, avise. You know you are always my favourite person the room.”

Varric groaned, and Dorian tsked. “If that’s what this call will be like, then give me a moment to find a bucket to vomit in.”

Tamaris smiled goofily and scratched the back of her neck, and Felassan chuckled. “Enough idle small talk, then. Don’t let me hold up this storytelling time.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you wish to know first?”

There was a brief pause. Then Dorian, Tamaris, and Varric all spoke at once. 

“Why was Solas so angry about the archdemons being killed?” Tamaris asked. 

“How did red lyrium get the Blight in the first place?” Varric said.

“I’d like to know more about that orb that Solas had,” Dorian said.

A slow smile crept over Felassan’s face. Then he started to laugh. “So you wish to know everything, then. I suppose I ought to start from the very beginning. Of what I know, at least.” His expression grew serious. “Much of what I will tell you happened long before I was born. The knowledge I have isn’t as first-hand as the facts you would get from Fen’Harel himself, if he had ever been so inclined to share it with you.” He sighed. “I also have strong suspicions about things that… that Fen’Harel did not want his people to know.” He looked directly at Tamaris, and his gaze was soft and utterly serious. “Things he would not have wanted you to know, for fear of corrupting the woman he loved with that which eventually poisoned our entire empire.”

Her pulse began to rise at this. “Just tell me what you feel comfortable with,” she told him. 

He nodded. Then he smiled and laced his fingers casually behind his head. “All right. I should probably start by telling you what — or rather, who — the archdemons really were.” 

****************

An important note: Felassan’s anecdote about the importance of hairstyles in ancient Arlathan, and the terrible meaning of slaves having their hair shaved, was heavily inspired by the IRL history of European slave traders shaving the heads of West African people when they took them as slaves. The sources I referred to for this are here and here – two sources that corroborate each other, both of which I recommend. My fiancé beta’ed that section for me as well. If you recognized the inspiration for this anecdote, I hope it came across as it is intended: a respectful homage to black history in North America.

[novamm66]

From Earth to Sky - Chapter Seven - Adamant & Hawke

Who doesn’t love an amazing fall Friday with another chapter!

--

They had travelled hard, the people sleeping in the wagons while still on the move, only stopping when the horses and druffalo needed rest. The army would reach Griffin Wing Keep in a day, and Varric had run out of time.

Varric found an outcrop of boulders that offered some privacy from the rest of the camp but still within the patrol routes. He was hoping that Cassandra would find him, and he didn’t have to wait long.

“How can you read in the dark?” She asked as she sat on a rock facing him, their knees brushing together. The smile on her face made Varric want to reach out and kiss her senseless.

“Good eyesight and practice,” Varric replied, placing his book aside. He put his hands on his knees and slid them to hers. He grinned at the hitch in her breathing. Don’t get distracted. Varric scolded himself, but he couldn’t help sliding his hands further up her legs before pulling back. “I actually have something to confess to you, Seeker.”

“Alright.” Cassandra nodded.

Varric took a deep breath. “Blondie is with Hawke.” The Seeker’s face was unreadable as she studied him. Varric swallowed his nerves and kept going. “We never really talked about what Hawke is doing with the Wardens.”

Cassandra started to laugh. Varric stared at her in surprise. “Not the reaction I was expecting.”

Cassandra snickered. “I am glad I can surprise you.”

“Would you care to explain? Or are you planning revenge in my sleep?”

“That’s a good idea. I will have to remember that.” Cassandra grinned. “I guessed that Anders was with Hawke long ago.”

“Really?” Varric’s surprise was evident, and this started Cassandra laughing again.

“I am a Seeker, Varric. I am usually rather good at connecting the dots. I know Hawke and Bethany are together. Makes sense with Hawke helping the Wardens. I have read your book enough times to guess at the history between Bethany and Anders, so It’s not surprising he is with her.”

“Colour me impressed. Not everyone picks up on those two in the book. But that doesn’t explain why you are so calm about the whole thing.”

“I know.” The self-doubt was clear on Cassandra’s face. Varric instantly reached for her. “I can’t say that I am not conflicted. But I respect and trust Kiaya’s judgement,” Cassandra squeezed his hands, “And I trust you. With the Chantry in chaos and everything I have read in the Seekers book, I have many things to work through. For now, I don’t think upsetting things before we attack the fortress would be beneficial for anyone.”

‘Wow, Seeker. You just might be the most amazing person I have ever met.” They had leaned closer together as they had been speaking, so Varric didn’t have far to go to kiss her. However, just before their lips met, someone cleared their throat.

“Evening.” The soldier on patrol said, nodding to them as he passed. Cassandra blushed, and Varric returned the greeting.

“I did pick this spot so that, if you throttled me, there would be witnesses.” Varric shrugged. Cassandra snorted, and they sat silently for a few minutes, fingers laced together over their knees.

Varric was the first to break the quiet. “Do you think Curly has made the same connections?” He was staring at the camp with worry in his eyes.

Cassandra squeezed his hand, trying to be reassuring while her answer was not. “I don’t think so. If he had, we probably would have heard him yelling.”

“Am I a coward for not wanting to tell him?” Varric asked, concern and shame clear on his face.

“Then, we both are,” Cassandra said with a shake of her head. “I won’t be telling him either. Kiaya has her reasons for keeping it from him,”

“Hawke made her swear not to tell anyone,” Varric interjected.

“And Kiaya is true to her word.” Cassandra nodded. “But, he’s not going to receive the news well.”

“Poor Smudges.” Varric sighed, and Cass stroked her thumb across the back of his hand.

---

Cassandra was on edge and bored at the same time. There wasn’t anything that she really needed to do. She was ready for the assault on Adamant tomorrow; her weapons and battle gear were as prepared as she could make them. She could be attending the strategy meetings with Cullen, but Cassandra’s forte was one on one combat, and there was only so much discussion on troop movements that she could take. She would be accompanying Kiaya into the heart of the fortress and, hopefully, stop the ritual. Varric would be joining Leliana, Sera and the archers to take and hold the outer walls. Their first fight since Varric’s injury, and she wouldn’t be there to protect him. It made Cassandra uneasy.

She shivered and wrapped the blankets more tightly around herself. There were no fires, they were too close now, and the desert was cold at night. The moon’s light created more shadows then they dispelled, perfect cover from anything watching from the walls, but it was just as hard to see anything among the rocks and tents.

Cassandra could feel someone watching her; she just couldn’t pinpoint where they were. She began to ease the dagger from her boot sheath under cover of the blankets. Before she could stand, a voice spoke from the darkness.

“I heard you were looking for me.” A shadow separated from the outline of tents nearby and moved towards her. Marion Hawke smiled as she approached, “I apologize for making it difficult, but in your profession, you must be used to that.” Hawke’s lips curved a little more.

Cassandra was stunned. She had never expected the Champion to seek her out. Cass had been avoided Hawke and her team, not wanting to add to the tension. This meant Cass was seeing less of Varric then she would like, but it was good that he was with them; Varric could defuse any situation. But Cassandra had never expected to be alone with the woman she had spent months searching for.

Hawke was just as intimidated as Cassandra had expected, but she was smaller then what Cass had pictured. Half a head shorter and with a slimmer build, then Cassandra, Hawke didn’t seem a threat on the surface. Still, with the controlled grace of her movements and her piercing blue eyes, Hawke was the personification of the bird of prey.  

Suddenly, Cassandra realized she was staring, “I, Is there something I can assist you with?” Cassandra asked, falling back into formality to cover her surprise.

Hawke quirked an eyebrow, “I have come to ask your intentions for our mutual friend.” She said, adopting a formal tone to match, although her grin stayed in place.

“To see him happy,” Cassandra answered automatically and truthfully. “Does that meet with your approval?”

“Very much so.” Hawke’s face softened. “I wanted to meet you. You are important to him, and he is important to me, so I wanted to see what he was getting into.”

Hawke settled comfortably on the ground. “The fireside stories of Lady Pentaghast, Dragon slayer, and Right Hand, while fascinating, are not the most reliable of descriptions.”

“What?” Cassandra asked, a bit alarmed.

“Oh yes, Seeker. The stories of you are prolific, especially now. ‘The warrior woman who can quell men with a look.’ I just had to see for myself.”

Cassandra blinked. “That’s very…”

“Unsettling. I know.” Hawke rolled her eyes. “You get used to it. Sort of.”

“What did Varric say when you asked him? About us?” the question was out of Cassandra’s mouth before she could stop it.

Hawke laughed through her nose. “Dick all. He’s cagier than a fennec when it comes to you and to those of us who know him, that says a lot.”

“Really?” Cassandra said, surprise and glee equal in her voice.

Hawke nodded, grinning like a cat.

Cassandra swallowed, glad for the darkness, her cheeks burning. “Lady Hawke, I care very deeply for Varric. I only want the best for him and to see life treat him well. Of that, I can promise.”

“Not a lady. In practice or in name. Call me, Marion.” Hawke said. “All my friends do. Except for Varric.”

“Call me Cassandra then, or Cass.”

The informal introduction dissolved any remaining tension between them. But Cassandra couldn’t think of anything to say. Before the silence stretched too long, Hawke spoke first. “What do you know about Bianca?

“The crossbow or its creator?” Cassandra asked dryly.

“Good, Varric isn’t a complete idiot. What he likely didn’t tell you is that Bianca is a manipulative bitch who has been a thorn in Varric’s foot his whole life. I guarantee that she will turn up, and she always brings trouble when she does.” Hawke sighed. “Varric has always had a blind spot when it comes to her. I am hopeful that having you in his life will break that cycle, but I wanted to warn you. Bianca will not be happy, and she will have no qualms putting a knife in your back.”

“I will keep that in mind. Thank you.” Cassandra nodded.

“Now, can I interest you in some embarrassing stories of Varric?”

“Yes, please.” Cassandra laughed, passing one of her blankets over.

—

[bigfan-fanfic]

May I Have This Dance?

For @herald-divine-hell, my dear friend, involving his OC Mahazan Adaar, and my OC Cal Hawke.

Cal sighed softly. It had been a long day at Skyhold, and Cal really wished he had shaved his beard sooner. As it had grown out, he resembled more and more the Champion Varric had always described, and he hated it. He wasn’t a hero or a rebellion leader. He was tired. The rush job he had done on his facial hair was sloppy, but it did the trick, leaving him patchy in places but still not recognizable as the bushy-bearded rogue who defeated the Arishok. 

“Well, I like the new look. You have a fine jaw, Champion, and you ought to show it off.” came the rumbling voice of Mahazan Adaar, the Inquisitor. 

Cal closed his eyes, and Mahazan moved closer, sitting down on the stone wall Cal was leaning over, and drawing the man into his arms.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Cal. Let me help.”

Cal sighed, resting his head on the Qunari’s massive shoulder, admiring the intricate red braid his hair was in. “The usual. I just... there’s so much pressure on me, and I never wanted any of this. I was just trying to make a life for my siblings, and I couldn’t even do that right. Maker’s balls, Ava was the one who did all the work!”

Mahazan nodded, silently holding the human.

“I know, I shouldn’t complain. You never asked to be Inquisitor either, and you never complain about it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I just... when Varric wrote about me in his book, I never said how it bothered me. But I just assumed it wouldn’t be anything more than parties and being asked to dance by bigwigs who wanted to be seen with me, you know?”

Mahazan smiled, then gave Cal a look of exaggerated shock. “You mean, you don’t get asked to dance every day? Handsome hero like you?”

Cal laughed, burying his face in Mahazan’s chest. “I just want to stay here. Is that at all possible?”

Mahazan stood, pulling the reluctant Champion to his feet. “Yes. I will take you to my chambers, and you may remain at my side for as long as you wish. That I promise you. But you’ve got to do something for me first.”

Cal smirked.

“Not that! Ugh... Ser Hawke... may I have this dance?” Mahazan bent in an elaborate courtly bow Josephine had spent weeks teaching him.

Cal’s eyes shone, and he nodded. “You may, Lord Inquisitor.”

They moved together, Cal enveloped in Mahazan’s great arms, swaying among the plants of the garden. There was no music, but neither man seemed to notice, gently stepping softly together, in a half-dance, half-embrace, the promises of many gentle nights spent together ahead, love in the air all around them.