#I'm writing an OREST MAHARIEL FIC

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Trying to write a fic set during Nature of the Beast and I'm in genuine agony over the fact that Zathrian's Clan doesn't have a fucking Clan name

What is with Dragon Age and not giving Dalish Clans proper names half the time? I swear, it's like these Inktober prompts exist to make me question my knowledge of this entire series...

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Mortal Pleasure

(Justice x Anders x Orest Mahariel)

After the loss of Justice, Vigil's Keep doesn't feel the same. Anders' strange and distant behavior doesn't help matters. Orest Mahariel is determined to figure out what's going on and make his friend—or friends, perhaps—feel good enough to share.

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[a-gay-bloodmage]

At Least It Looks Fun

(Morrigan x Orest Mahariel)

Despite the horrors of being tainted by an Eluvian, losing the love of his life to a yet-unknown fate, and being one of only two Wardens left in Ferelden to stop the Blight, Orest Mahariel does his best to go about life with a smile on his face and a constant stream of flirtation on his lips. But what happens when a certain Witch of the Wilds starts to flirt back?

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Day 31: Landmark 

(Morrigan x Orest Mahariel and Past Tamlen x Orest Mahariel)

Back in the Brecilian forest, Orest Mahariel tells his new friends about the places he remembers from his childhood. Some landmarks bring back good memories, some bad, and yet they all seem to be tainted by a sadness he can’t bring himself to speak about.

[a-gay-bloodmage]

—Husky—

Pairing: Morrigan x Male Mahariel

Pairing Type: M/F

Words: 1,040

Warnings: AGB's Ink 2019, Pregnancy, Sick-Fic, Fluff, Pre-Parental Stress, Genuine Love and Affection, Morri can be a Housewife if She Needs to be, But Only for her One Dumbass

She ran her cold, slender finger up his neck, tracing the curvature of his gentle, male physique. His breath rattled slightly in his throat as he inhaled, drawing in breath as she made his nerves stand to attention.

She hummed, cupping his jaw in her hand. "It appears someone needs a healer."

He smiled softly, those near-black brown eyes so soft in affection despite being so overtaken with his dilated pupils. "You're an awful healer."

She just smiled a little wider and pressed a cool hand to his feverish brow. "I'll brew you some tea."

His smile damped ever so slightly. "Here," he said, motioning to leave their bed. "Don't push yourself, I can do it."

She gently pressed him back into the mattress. "No, stay." She knew he wasn't one to disobey a direct order from her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with a soft, raspy sigh.

She smoothed his long, wavy hair back away from his face, gently caressing his ear before turning to the cabin's small hearth. Her swollen belly made it harder to reach for things like the tea leaves, but her subtle apostate magic allowed her to draw little items toward her with ease. Really, she doubted her lover thought her fragile, but instead simply enjoyed doting on her as if she were a delicate maiden. She didn't bother to disrupt his fantasy. Being waited on hand and foot wasn't exactly a bad thing.

But, as all people do, he had contracted an unexpected fever, and had been bedridden all morning. She didn't see it ending too soon, but she doubted it would be more than a week before he was back to his usual self. If she were to be honest with herself, the fever was probably a product of soon-to-be-fatherly stress. The man was running himself ragged even if he didn't show it outwardly.

She poured water into the cast iron pot to boil.

Their little cabin was small, situated close to an ivy-swallowed castle in the Frostback mountains. The Veil was thinner here, and she figured it was the best place to raise a child with potentially incredible magical talent.

She tucked a lock of stray hair back behind her ear and slowly added the leaves, letting the sweet bitterness of the brew perfume the air.

Returning to her lover's side, she traced small circles into his high cheekbone with her thumb.

He hummed, leaning into her touch. "You're the sweetest thing, Morri."

"Orest," she said, shaking her head with a soft smile. "Lying to me gets you no further than you already are."

He just smiled, taking a rough breath in. "I'm not a liar, baby," he cooed as softly as his rough voice allowed.

She just rolled her eyes and stood to go draw up two cups of tea.

He took it gladly when she placed it in his hands. It was almost frightening how sweetly he looked at her. Like she was the most wonderful creature to ever walk Thedas, like she was a goddess to praise sans hesitation.

"I love you," he said, brown eyes so unbearably soft.

"I know, my dear," she said back, taking a sip of tea to wet her throat.

"Sorry I'm so useless right now."

She gave him a side-eye, making him smile a little nervously. She knew how his mind worked. As soon as he wasn't saving the world, he was useless. "Drink," she commanded, gently moving the cup toward his lips. "It will make you feel better."

He drank with one hand, the other resting gently on her thigh. His hands, even in his exhausted state, always moved about, playing with the cut-off, loose trousers she had taken to wearing.

Eventually, his cup sat empty on the homemade nightstand and his head rested on her shoulder. His hand had moved to her stomach.

"Humans... you're pregnant nine months, too, right?" She nodded. "Creators," he groaned, his lips quirking up in a smile. "How long has it been?"

"Seven months and two weeks," she said, acting as if he didn't constantly add on a week to the number every single Wednesday. It had surprised her how wholly he threw himself into the whole business of being a father. It seemed, often, that he was more concerned with this child being born healthy and loved than he was with defeating the Archdemon it came from.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Well," he said, cuddling closer to her. "At least it'll all be worth the waiting."

She noted that his voice was far smoother than it had been earlier, raspiness slowly replaced by his usual sweet huskiness. She traced the lines of the vallaslin on his chin, working down to his throat. He simply glowed at her touch, that so very lively quality impossible to quash with any illness. Or, at least, she hoped so.

"You're gonna be the best mom ever, you know," he said, looking up at her through his long lashes.

"Oh, I wouldn't-"

He hushed her with a finger planted on her nose. "Nope. You're gonna be a great mom. No arguing."

"Really, Orest-"

"This is my one Orest is right for the month," he said, laughing softly. "You already used your Morri is right so..."

"Ah, you've got me, then," she sighed, shaking her head with a smile. Their little argument-ender was very good at making the other smile. "Now, why not get some sleep?"

"I'm not tired, though," he protested, only half-heartedly squirming as she coerced him under the covers of their bed. Sometimes, he felt like good practice for an actual child—impulsive, decently needy and clingy, excitable, and hopelessly good at making her heart clench in affection she hadn't meant to desire. She desperately hoped she loved this child half as much as she loved this man.

"Yes, you are," she said, kissing him on the forehead. "Now, get some rest." She ran her hand though his thick black hair, thankful his fever seemed to be subsiding—she was almost flattered the man had literally worried himself sick over her and their child. He held her hand as he fell back asleep, warm and comforting.