#Isera is trouble

[abyssal-ilk]

meeting bellara as a veil jumper with neve is so fun because she's first like "wait :0! i know you!" towards rook and then neve introduces herself and she's just "wait!! i know you, too!!"

[uvher]

Isera's reaction brought a chuckle out of him. It was refreshing, not being notorious to someone. Even if his reputation was somewhat obscure outside of Tevinter's Archon circles, the name Dellamorte came with plenty of weight.

"I can fight," he replied, and thought for a moment before adding: "and I can sense blood magic. That tends to be useful."

And of course, she'd find out about Spite soon enough if when they run into trouble.

Spite, who was currently circling around the girl in curiosity, occasionally making comments that Lucanis ignored. [Why. So Small?], and the like. He managed not to roll his eyes; Spite always had an interest in mages, testing to see how well they could sense him. Trying to get a taste for their magic. It was easier in close quarters, Emmerich had said, for a mage to hear Spite. Lucanis wondered if the ambient magic in Arlathan made that easier or harder.

Reign it in, Spite. We have a job to do.

"Let's go find this relic," he said, "you can brief me on the way."

"A pleasure", spoke her low orlesian voice. "It is, right? I'm more used to the city, but it's beautiful out here. Watch out though, there's magic remnants everywhere." No wonder very few had braved really venturing into Arlathan Forest before the Veil Jumpers, all these years after Elvhenan fell.

Lucanis looked short for a human. Graceful in many ways, specially his movements - she considered asking if he was a Crow, but better not. He looked charming, though, hopefully he would be good to deal wi---

-- Yeesh. "Oof. I'll be sure to stay in your good graces then", she smirked sheepishly, holding on to her mage staff.

"Alright, dealing with the magic stuff will be on me then," she mused, eyeing him wondering if she should be scared. "I take it you fight well though? There's still all the sentinels and such I can't take by myself."

[officialleehadan]

Making a Queen

Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by Kat! Darling, thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Spider-Eating Elves

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“What was I thinking?” Shimra asked Halva, a little frantic around the edges and not entirely sure how her life had gotten to this point. “I’m an innkeeper’s daughter. I can’t be queen.”

“You will do very nicely as queen,” Isera said, very matter-of-fact and clear. She had forgone her usual white today, and was striking instead in soft green with gold about the hems. She adjusted the pins in Shimra’s hair, and checked to make sure her veil was neatly in place. “Sweet girl, every bride is nervous on her wedding day, and your wedding day is rather larger than you expected.”

“The steward told me there are nearly a thousand nobles, eight kings with their consorts, four queens with theirs, and representatives form every race that peoples the continent,” Shimra said weakly. Her gown was gossamer-white spidersilk, sewn with crystals that were almost to tiny to see, overlaid over thicker white silk embroidered with glimmering thread. The embroidery was exactly the color of the cloth itself, but made incredible, whirling patterns that seemed to move when Shimra looked at them too long. There were diamonds in her hair, throat, ears, and wrists. “This is more than even the most fanciful of daydreams.”

“You are the queen this land needs,” Halva said. Like Isera, she had forgone her usual garb and wore deep green to show off Isera’s pale. She looked very fine, and had agreed to stand for Shimra, along with Isera herself. Noble company for a girl born in the slums, but maybe appropriate, given that that slums-girl was marrying a king. “Take it from one who knows most of those nobles a little too well. We need new blood, and new ideas. We need that good, stout common sense and the courage to speak up. More than that, Grathneeds someone he can trust, and that’s you.”

“And you need him as well,” Isera agreed. She made another invisible adjustment, this time to Shimra’s hem, which flowered out like petals built of layer upon layer of that nearly-invisible gossamer. “You might have been happy with a lad down in the slums, but the job of ruling is so well suited to your talents. You would have run a fine inn, but you will run a better kingdom.”

It was… not exactly comforting, to realize that Isera was probably right. Shimra had always had a little more ambition than was sensible for a girl from the slums. Maybe she would have taken over her father’s inn when the time came, and maybe she would have been happy doing it but this…

This was a chance to do so much good for the people these nobles, even Halva and Isera and Grath himself, never truly thought of. She could be their voice where they never formerly had one. As queen, she could not be shouted down by anyone but Grath. Not that he ever would. Grath was gentle to the bone and respected her in particular and women in general to shout her down, even if they disagreed.

“Shim-lass, they’re right, you know.”

That was her mother. Hild Innkeep was no court flower, even gowned as noble herself in silks and jewels gifted to her by a very insistent elf-king. She looked magnificent, and as regal as any queen.

“You got my clever,” Hild told her with a gentle kiss to each of her cheeks. Shimra did her best not to tear up, and took a handkerchief when Halva offered one. “And you got your papa’s strong. Them two, they would have given you what you need to run our inn an’ run it well. They’ll also give you what you need to be a queen proper.”

“You aren’t mad, me leaving?” Shimra asked tentatively. Yes, she had a younger brother, but he was a child still, and not big enough to be much help around the inn. Gold was good, and she had plenty of it now from the income Intevar gave her as a duchess, but gold wasn’t the same as family to help. “Won’t see you much, especially if we have to leave on Progress like the council says. Let the kingdom see me.”

“Me? Be mad my girl-child will be a queen?” Hild chuckled ruefully. “Nah, sweet girl. I’ll miss you. We all will. But you’re to be a queen an’ that’s a duty like the nobles maybe forget. I’m proud of you, an’ so is your papa.”

“It’s time.”

Intevar stepped through the door. He matched his sister, but unlike Isera, he wore a slim, emerald-set crown, and a larger emerald at his throat. Shimra’s father, looking very fine, a little nervous, and so proud he could burst, stood beside him. He was to walk Shimra to Grath’s side and give her hand to the man who would be her husband.

The nobles argued that it should be Intevar, as he was her liege, but both Intevar and Isera threw a very public tantrum about disrespecting the honors of family bonds. Nobody argued much after that.

“Last chance to run,” Harrow Innkeep told Shimra with a fond smile that promised he was joking. He liked Grath, had met the young king a dozen times since the first time Shimra brought Grath down to the slums, and approved of the man as much as he approved of the king. “We could go out the window. Use that veil as a rope.”

“It would hold,” Isera told them both with a straight face. Shimra couldn’t tell if she was joking, but rather suspected she wasn’t. “Spidersilk is very strong, although it might not be long enough.”

“I’m not fleeing my own wedding,” Shimra told them all, but she was smiling again, at the jokes and her family who came together to make sure she was ready to pledge her life and love to her soon-to-be husband. She took her father’s arm and straightened herself proudly. “Besides, there isn’t time to kidnap Grath on our way, and anyway, that would leave Marn on the throne.”

“Perish the thought,” Halva muttered, but she was grinning, one arm around her wife. “Come on, Innkeeper’s Daughter. It’s time to become a queen.”

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And that's a wrap! Spider-Eating Elves is officially CLOSED! Keep your eyes out for the anthology, coming soon!

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Spider-Eating Elves:

Elves are beautiful, icy, and untouchable. Unfortunately, they always thought the same of humans. Worse yet, they also live in a forest full of giant insects, think tiny spiders are a delicacy, and have a strong-willed princess who is nothing but trouble.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

From One King to Another

Duchess of Pies

Twilight Silk

An Entrance to Make

Raise a Glass (Subscriber Only!)

The Oak and the Climbing Rose

Under the Willow Boughs  (Subscriber Only!)

The Brightest Flowers

Back Road to the Slums

Beneath the Sky (Subscriber Only!)

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More Stories!

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[the-rat-plays-games]

ISERA - SKYTR (SCOUT)

“Oh, we’re just a bunch of fucking animals -- but we’re afraid of the outcome.” - Architects, “Animals” “Pain is personal. It really belongs to the one feeling it. Probably the only thing that is your own. I like mine.” - Henry Rollins

Who knows where she comes from? When did it matter? Never. Never. 

Not to her, anyways. 

And sure, the new pack, Blutothinn, they ask, but Isera, she doesn’t care much about it. She doesn’t remember the old place much. Just remembers some old man with a limp who couldn’t fucking keep up, who fell behind, who starved and died. She remembers the winter, too, the harshness of it, the driving hunger in the forest. Remembers jumping to catch a bird in the air. Like a weasel would, right? 

Or a bobcat. 

Speaking of: she gets her first scar from a bobcat, the scars across her eyes -- boom, a right claw, the stripes of blood down her face. Isera reels. Sure, she kills it, but -- but -- fuck. Fuck. It hurts. 

But the scars, they make her feel alive. It’s weird. 

Isera can’t help how sharp-tongued she is, either. She doesn’t mean to be so shitty to Vilhelm, and the other hunting team crewmates, but they’re clumsy, and Isera gets into an actual fight with Vilhelm on the trail one day, which ends fucking terribly, ends with an elk kicking Vilhelm, and --  -- well.  The bobcat scars?  Nothing compared to what happens when they bring her to Yvar.  Yvar rips her face apart. Rips her open. Kicks her off the hunting team, too, when it’s done. 

... but then Yvar makes her a scout, instead. 

She doesn’t say why. 

Isera still ain’t sure. 

She’s not planning to ask, though. Ain’t worth the trouble. 

[sasskarian]

Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look 

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse):  Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote:   Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection. 

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote:   This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote:   With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake):  Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote:   “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse:  Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams? 

Memorable quote:   Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote:   “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote:   (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote:   “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote:   He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly. 

Star by Star:  Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote:   “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little. 

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it. 

Memorable quote:   True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote:   He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote:   It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote:   Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”  

[rambles-on-dragon-age]

These are all so good!

I love the idea of your Warden in a fancy setting and an Orlesian trying to feel her up and getting a dagger for their trouble. 😌

🥺Halan brings tea blends as gifts?? That's so cute.

I'm guessing Isera helps Neve give Assan too many treats while Davrin's not looking? 😆

Okay, time for Character Q&A posts!

You can answer this for your Rooks, Inquisitors, Hawkes, or Wardens!

(Or if you've transformed one of them into a companion, that's cool too!)

What are some completely "useless" headcanons you have?

Favorite drinks, favorite foods, hobbies, favorite place to visit, do they stay up late or wake up early, favorite genre of book, favorite animal, least favorite animal, etc. Whatever you have for them that's not normally brought up!

[thebookworm0001]

ELLANA ELLANA ELLANA OWO ☹☠❣ also some of these I don't have the right emoji for, so also the lightning bolt( have you ever gotten pleasure out of killing) and also the moon one about how you feel about the night/dark okay love u!

thank you friend.💕 I’m gonna make an attempt to answer these in Ellana's voice so bear with me.

☹ Name one person they would kill for.

Ellana glances at the web-like scarring that runs up the remains of her left arm and clenches her jaw. She takes a breath, and her lip twitches up into a wry smile. “My sister. Though I doubt she’d let me. She’s entirely too impatient.”

[Isera Lavellan would absolutely beat her to the punch if someone needed killing. She is sweet but terrifying.]

❣ If someone had the power to bring them back after death, would they want them to?

“No, I wouldn’t. If it’s my time, then it’s my time. I have people… waiting for me on the other side. I’d like to see them again.”

☠ Do they fear death?

“No. Death is inevitable, but that does not mean it is a terrible thing that must be feared.”

⚡️Have they ever gotten pleasure from causing others pain? /have you ever gotten pleasure out of killing

Ellana looks down for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek. She takes a moment, composing her thoughts before she speaks. Ever the inquisitor, she choses her words with care. "I find pleasure in making sure the people of Thedas are safe and that justice is served when they are wronged. Sometimes that includes necessary actions others might find distasteful. I take no joy in causing others pain or taking a life, but I will be glad to have done my part to make this world a better place."

Bonus from Cole: "Screams between the trees and it smells like burning. You break bones for the ones you couldn't bury. Like hunting the bear that didn't hurt the village, it helps but it doesn't heal."

[Ellana may have actively hunted down humans she knew she wouldn't get in trouble for killing after her clan was attacked. she may have enjoyed that quite a bit. then felt guilty about it later but not as guilty as she thinks she should have.]

🌙What is their favorite and least favorite thing about the night?/how you feel about the night/dark

"I enjoy the night. The stars and moons are beautiful, and everything becomes so peaceful. There's also so much to explore at night. An entire world awakens when so many of us go to sleep, and it has just as many secrets to discover."

Bonus from Cole: "Things come easier to him in the Fade. He smiles louder here, shows more of himself in memories and moments. His pain is quieter, calmed with a quick smile. ...He likes being with you too."

[sinedras-snippets]

Recent commission of trouble sister mage duo: my Isera Surana and @janeopries Hallain. Part fiery trainwreck and part too-exhausted-to-keep-fixing-your-shit. They're here to expload dragons, help Hawke cause more chaos in Kirkwall, and make templars question their vows. Watch out Thedas! We love this series too much.

Thank you again @warie-lym for another amazing commission! It's always a great experience and you have the patience of a saint. Everything always looks spectacular! Love them a lot!

[enterenews]

The first couple of 'Camping in Love' was born…

Kim Kyung-mi and Jeon Dae-joong of 'Spring Again, Camping in Love' became a couple.

In the MBN entertainment program 'Camping in Love Again' (hereafter referred to as 'Camping in Love'), which aired on the afternoon of the 30th, the final choice of 8 middle-aged single men and women who finished camp camping was included.

On the last date before the final choice, Kim Eun-jin surprised everyone by choosing Lee Ho-eun as her last date. Regarding her choice of reversal, Kim Eun-jin, who seemed to be going straight to Se-ra Lee, said, "I've never lived, never met, and only talked for a short period of time." Kim Eun-jin and Lee Ho-eun's date seemed to be going well, but the conversation continued one-sidedly, and Lee Ho-eun expressed regret by describing her date as 'patience' at Eun-jin Kim's insensitive appearance.

Kim Kyung-mi, Park Michelle, and Isera Lee chose Jeon Dae-jung as their date. Unlike the friendly Michelle Park and Se-ra Lee, Kim Kyung-mi's dark face drew attention. At the end of her troubles, Kim Kyung-mi confessed her worries, saying that the rich and prosperous life of the entire public would not be able to handle it. Accordingly, the entire public persuaded and comforted her Kim Kyung-mi based on her own experience. In the end, Kim Kyung-mi burst into tears at her drumming emotions.

Kim Kyung-mi, who was worried about her burden from the economic gap with the public, eventually said, "I think I'm going to have a hard time," and she conveyed her heart to the public. In an interview with her production crew, Kim Kyung-mi shed tears as she confided, "I don't know if she's a cowardly ego, but she's going to look shabby."

[garneredhostility]

[ defend ]

Nonsexual Acts of Dominance ; Not Accepting     @cuervocanto

Drips of crimson surrounded her in a gruesome ring often displaced by a corpse here, or the tell-tale splats of black from hurlocks and ogres there. Yet waged the scuffle all the same; if ten darkspawn surfaced, why not a few dozen more as apparently dictated by their own pack law. It was a task better suited to those with more experience fighting to throw forward in their blows, but Creators be damned if they had to defend her like some helpless babe. Alongside the others, the surging ( albeit relatively small in comparison to what it could be ) hoard fell in time til naught but a handful remained scattered among the group.

Prudence bade already unsteady hand to hesitate in drawing blade across bleeding wrist, but attacking hurlocks insisted lest a less strategic wound be made. All that mattered, she supposed, was that her spell worked as it should – that she fell to her knees in a sickly haze was a trouble to be handled at a later time. Yet the audible puncture and subsequent darkspawn death behind her earned little more than perked ears for a sluggish moment, and turned head later than it should have.

“Gracias, amigo,” Antivan left Isera’s lips even before her eyes focused in on Zevran – an anecdote altogether dismissed in favour of her feeble attempt and failure to push herself back to her feet. “Pero,” she added following momentary pause, only to fall quiet a breath longer. “Podría necesitar un poco más de ayuda.”

[asoulonfire]

For DWC: "I can explain" for character(s) of your choice :)

Oh I hope this doesn’t disapoint. :D It’s kind of fun to embarrass Solas.

Midnight Interrogations

for @roksanalyasin​ and @dadrunkwriting 

pairing: Solas x Isera Lavellan from my fic ‘A Soul on Fire’

Other Characters: Iris Lavellan and Dorian Pavus

Solas lay awake in bed. Tonight the Fade eluded him. He gave a heavy sigh and rolled over, resting his gaze on the sleeping form next to him. Isera seemed to have no trouble falling asleep tonight. Though from the stories she had told him of the antics of the school children today, he wasn’t surprised.

He reached out a gentle hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. She sighed in her sleep as he stroked her cheeks with his knuckles. Solas let his eyes wander over her, taking in the way her hair desperately tried to escape the braid she kept it in at night, and how her arm tucked under her head, or how she kept one foot kicked out from under the blanket, not matter how cold it was at night. This was still so new. He wanted to remember everything, every moment, for when….

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. Not yet.

With a heavy sigh he threw the covers off himself and pulled himself out of bed. Perhaps he could get some research done or work on his frescos if he couldn’t sleep. He got dressed in his foot wraps, leggings and undershirt, his sweater draped over his arm. Before he left he gave Isera a soft kiss on her forehead. While he didn’t like the idea of her waking up alone unexpectedly, he knew that she would know he had trouble sleeping since he was not in the Fade.

As quietly as he could, he opened the door of Isera’s room and slipped into the hall. While the door clicked shut, Solas slipped his arms into his sweater, preparing to pull it over his head.

When he turned and saw the Inquisitor, Iris - Isera’s daughter, leaning against the wall down the hall, glaring at him.

For a moment he stared at her, his arms still trapped in his sweater as he hadn’t pulled it over his head yet.

“Inquisitor.” Solas finally said with a nod.

“Solas.” Iris said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Skyhold is home to both of us.” Solas said. He watched as Iris walked towards him and swallowed nervously as she looked pointedly between him and door he had just exited.

“And many others.” Iris replied. “Like my mother. Whose room you just left. At 2 in the morning. While not fully dressed.”

“Ah…” Solas said, licking his suddenly dry lips. “I believe that I can explain.”

“Please do.” a second voice said from the other side of the hall. “Enlighten us on what could have brought you here at this hour..”

Solas turned to see Dorian sauntering up from the opposite direction, twirling his mustache and looking far too pleased with himself. With a frown Solas looked between the Tevinter mage and the Inquisitor.

“Perhaps we should let the man get his shirt on before we interrogate him.” Iris said, trying, and failing, not to laugh.

Without hesitation Solas pulled his sweater over his head and straightened it. Perhaps he could slip away while they were engaged in laughter.

“Oh no you don’t!” Dorian said with a grin, draping his arm over Solas’ shoulders, almost as if he had guessed his thoughts. “I think we all need to go have a long talk somewhere about your intentions with my dear Dalish Rose.”

“Please Dorian, Isera is a grown woman…” Solas began with an exasperated groan.

“Who happens to be my mother.” Iris interjected, jabbing a finger in Solas’ chest with each word.

“Ah, yes, well…..” Solas began to stutter, grasping for words.

Iris gave Dorian a smirk and then turned back to Solas. “So,” she began sweetly, “does that mean I should call you Papae now?”

Solas let his mouth hang open. He felt the flush of embarrassment and shock begin to creep up his face.

Iris and Dorian burst out laughing, their guffaws causing them to double over and have to brace themselves on each other to remain standing.

“Creators, Solas! You should see your face!” Iris gasped out between laughter.

Solas ran a hand over his face, counting backwards in his head to try and calm his frustration.

Just then, the door behind him opened and Isera stuck her head out, blinking blearily at them.

“Solas, what are you doing up?” She asked sleepily. Then she looked beyond him to see Dorian and Iris, both looking at the red head with the wide eyes of children caught being naughty. She narrowed her eyes at them. “And why are my daughter and Dorian standing here in the hall?”

“Mamae…” Iris began.

“You see…” Dorian said.

Isera held up her hand for silence and Iris and Dorian both stopped mid sentence. “You two, go to bed. Stop making noise in the hall and waking people up. It’s two in the morning for goodness sake!” She chided.

Iris and Dorian looked sheepishly at each other and then at the floor. “Yes, we will.” They said together and slunk off down the dark hallway.

Solas watched them leave, his shoulders finally relaxing as he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Solas,” Isera said softly, her hand entwining with his. He looked at her and she smiled warmly at him. “Come back to bed.”

“Yes, vhenan.” Solas said, returning her smile while she led him back into the bedroom.

[altmerdovahkiin]

Tanya shrugged and ate the food she originally offered. She wasn’t going to force feed the poor thing. If she wasn’t hungry then she wasn’t hungry. She frowned lightly as she listened to Isera talk. ‘Given’ was not a good word in this context. Perhaps ‘transferred’ would have been better.

“Forgive me if I’m jumping to conclusions, but are you a slave?” She asked, jaw tensed. Her own race enslaved a more primitive race of beings back home and she’d found it rather troubling. While it was true one could argue that work horses or dogs were enslaved, she believe both should not suffer abuse under the law. But this was a fully intelligent being, no different from anyone else. If he se people had slaves she was going to give Saint Alessia a run for her Septims.

 @altmerdovahkiin​ liked for an Arlathan starter  

 ~    The elf stands tall as the prisoner is brought before him, hands clasped behind his back. He seems all too worthy of his prideful name as he regards her with narrowed eyes. She is unlike any Elvhen he has ever seen - gold skin, sharp facial features, and exceptionally tall. Truly, the only thing that identifies her as an elf is her pointed ears. With a wave of his hand, Solas dismissed the guards. He stalks over to the prisoner, a small smirk pulling at his lips. ~ 

  ~   “ The guards tell me you were found hiding in the bushes, ” he begins. “ Hm…you do not have the look of an assassin, nor a spy; in fact, you are unlike anything I have ever seen. ” There’s a purr in his voice as his eyes quite obviously travel over the Altmer’s frame. “ If you tell me what you were doing in the gardens of Mythal’s highest ranking attendant, I may just be merciful…”. ~

[officialleehadan]

Beneath the Sky

“Is it fair to ask you to be my queen?”

Shimra looked up at Grath, who had been slowly working the braids out of her hair as they sat in the grass together. Well, sat wasn’t the right word, considering her head was in his lap, and her hair was spread across his legs where he could make a mess of it at his leisure. Isera would laugh at her, and her maids would despair of cleaning her up before evening court, and Shimra didn’t care a bit.

Nobles took themselves too seriously on the whole. Any afternoon that she could coax Grath outside was a victory. He spent too much time inside with his papers. She understood it, being king was a big job. All the same, someone had to look after Grath and make sure he didn’t work himself to death.

READ THE WHOLE STORY HERE!

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Spider-Eating Elves:

Elves are beautiful, icy, and untouchable. Unfortunately, they always thought the same of humans. Worse yet, they also live in a forest full of giant insects, think tiny spiders are a delicacy, and have a strong-willed princess who is nothing but trouble.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

From One King to Another

Duchess of Pies

Twilight Silk

An Entrance to Make

Raise a Glass (Subscriber Only!)

The Oak and the Climbing Rose

Under the Willow Boughs (Subscriber Only!)

The Brightest Flowers

Back Road to the Slums

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More Stories!

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[officialleehadan]

The Brightest Flowers

 Hello darlings! Only one more day to vote in the Poll if you haven't already. 

Today's story was brought to you by Bradford! Darling, you are a delight, and you never fail to make me smile. Thank you so much for all your support!

Prompt: Spider-Eating Elves, with Shimra staking her claim against an overzealous suitor.

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It was yet another Court evening, and Shimra found that, to her surprise, she was starting to get used to the constant polite backbiting and general nastiness that came form a large number of people with too much money all trying to curry favor at once.

Favor that she, unbeknownst to anyone but her, already had. She had been meeting Grath for weeks, first as he taught her to read, and later because she offered something no noble-born lady ever could. An escape from his life as King, if only for a stolen hour here and there. 

When their stolen hours turned to stolen kisses, Shimra realized that her heart was firmly in the keeping of her king.

Fortunately for her poor heart, Grath shyly admitted that he might like to court her publicly, if she was willing to have him. 

She was, for the record, entirely willing to have him in any way she was able.

There were some benefits to an innkeeper’s daughter’s education. Most noble girls had no idea what to do with a man once they found one they wanted to keep.

Not that they had gotten that far as yet, but Shimra was hopeful.

Tonight, however, there was something much more interesting than her potential prospects with Grath.

A princess had arrived form a land Shimra had never even heard of before she came to court. 

Madrien was exquisite, with flawless pale skin, hair as gold as a coin, and her eyes as blue as the oceans in high summer.

No one could hold a candle to Isera’s perfection, but Princess Madrien came closer than any human ever dreamed. Gowned in cloth-of-gold form head to toe, with emeralds sewn everywhere from her bodice to her perfect slippers, she looked like the sort of woman people imagined when they thought of a princess.

Or of a queen.

Shimra felt underdressed, for all that her gown, another gift of Isera’s, was silk. Her earrings and the diamond at her throat, a single stone set in platinum and suspended from a fine chain, was a gift from Grath when he found out that her birthday had passed without him ever knowing.  Subtle in dove grey, she faded into the background.

Princess Madrien would never fade into any background. Her guards were garbed in deep brown, and Shimra hid a smile when she realized that their garb must have been chosen to show the princess to her best effect.

Grath had greeted her warmly, of course. Shimra suspected that Grath did everything warmly, as she had never seen him be less than welcoming even when Halva and Isera tested his patience, or his spymaster got caught sneaking into the elf-king’s bedchambers and had to talk the guards out of throwing him in the dungeons before they realized who he was. What was interesting to Shimra, and probably dismaying to the princess, was that Grath did not greet her more than warmly.

It was possible that Grath didn’t realize that Princess Madrien was here to wed him. He was a wonderful, sweet, kind man, but he was sometimes just a little bit slow when it came to people who wanted things from him.

To Shimra’s surprise, and the princess’s apparent dismay, when the minstrels lifted their instruments, it was not to Madrien, but to Shimra, that Grath approached. His smile was the one she knew so well, the one that made him look like a village lad, asking his sweetheart to dance for the first time.

“Will you open the dance with me?” he asked, ignoring the murmurs that rippled through the room at his almost-plea for her favor. “I promised myself I would have at least one with you, before this evening ends.”

“Of course I will,” Shimra assured him, and returned his smile fondly, the comfort of their friendship an easy balm against the fear of mis-stepping in court. “At least this one, and another, perhaps, if it pleased Your Majesty.”

Just as she took his outstretched hand, however, Princess Madrien swept over, her hand tucked into her ambassador’s arm, and her gaze imperious. 

“Her Highness would be flattered to open the dance with Your Majesty,” the ambassador said in a superior tone that suggested that he was not a man accustomed to being refused. Shimra knew that Princess Madrien’s father was an old king, and that the princess herself was the youngest of eight, with several male heirs ahead of her, and several sisters already handsomely wed. There was no doubt that the princess had come to secure the hand of a king who her father thought would be easy to manipulate. “The court will be overjoyed to see what a handsome pair you make together.”

A dozen replies flashed across Shimra’s mind almost on top of each other, and many of them too crass for this fine company.

In the end, it was the weight of Isera’s pursed lips and Halva’s glare that braced her, and when she stole a glance at Intevar, he straightened, and nodded ever-so-slightly. Permission and promise in one. He was a king in his own right, and answered to no one. His support was unquestioning, even here, surrounded by humans.

It was a reminder that she was not sworn to a human king or indeed to this princess from a distant land, and the king she was sworn to enjoyed a bit of drama now and again.

“I am new to court,” she said gently, in her best imitation of Isera, when the Elf-princess was feeling in a mood to bite someone. “But even I know it is impolite to intervene in a promised dance, is that not the case, Ambassador?”

The ambassador froze when she met his eyes, and she smiled in a way that suggested that there was only one correct reply to her question. His gaze darted form her, to Grath, and subtly, to Intevar. With the disapproval of two kings bearing down on him, he hesitated, seeking words that seemed reluctant to come.

His princess, however, had no such compunctions.

“You must be the girl Princess Isera found down in the inns. How fascinating. You could almost pass for a real lady,” she said, mild but clearly seeking words that would cut the deepest. When Shimra didn’t answer, Madrien turned her smile on Grath, who wore an expression of stony stillness. “Your Majesty, the ball awaits. Shall we?”

Shimra closed her eyes, took a breath, opened her eyes, and fixed the princess with her best stare. The one that made even Jack-Knife think better of testing her patience when he was drunk. Grath, possessing a finely-honed instinct for when the ladies of his association were about to have the world’s politest brawl, squeezed her hand tightly. Whether it was encouragement or reassurance, Shimra didn’t know.

“I would say the same of you,” she told the princess with steely determination. “Down in the slums, we learn to know when we are beaten. Grath, I would be delighted to dance with you, now and always.”

Grath looked at her, saw the promise in her eyes, and the way her smile curved up at the edges, and squeezed her hand again, scandalously close.

“Perhaps the next dance, Princess,” he said in a way that suggested that there would not be a next dance, or indeed any dance at all with the princess. “You may find, in your time at this court, that the brightest flowers grow where we would least expect them.”

With that, he brought Shimra’s hand to his lips, and gave her his boyish smile again as she blushed, before he led her onto the dance floor, and nodded for the minstrels to begin the music.

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Spider-Eating Elves:

Elves are beautiful, icy, and untouchable. Unfortunately, they always thought the same of humans. Worse yet, they also live in a forest full of giant insects, think tiny spiders are a delicacy, and have a strong-willed princess who is nothing but trouble.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

From One King to Another

Duchess of Pies

Twilight Silk

An Entrance to Make

Raise a Glass (Subscriber Only!)

The Oak and the Climbing Rose

Under the Willow Boughs  (Subscriber Only!)

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More Stories!

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[officialleehadan]

Under the Willow Boughs

Shimra felt silly and a little childish as she snuck through the gardens. She pretended to admire an admittedly-spectacular rose bush as several nobles went past, and then ducked down between two hedges. A small path, worn by the passing of many feet seeking a bit of privacy, led down under a beautiful willow with long, trailing vines that concealed the shelter beneath it completely.

When she parted the curtain of vines, it was to the sight of Grath’s smile. Not the one he put on for the court, but the one that made him look like a village lad, just off from work at the end of the day.

Well, no village lad would be wearing a silk shirt and a royal signet, nor proffer a mug of still-hot mulled cider as she sank down onto the grass beside him, but Shimra held to the sweet illusion for a little longer anyway.

“Long day?” she asked when Grath leaned back against the tree and sighed, the weight of the monarchy set aside for a few stolen minutes. “Isera was in a temper. I assume the older nobility are up to their usual mischief?”

After several months in court, most of them spent building this unlikely secret friendship, Shimra was more accustomed than she expected to be to the nonsense of the nobility. Particularly the older nobility, who disapproved of Grath’s sweeping reforms that took more and more of their authority away in favor of the merchant houses, and the crafters. She was starting to see why Isera, herself a frequent instigator of the nonsense, was so determined to get Grath someone to talk to. Heaven knew, he didn’t have anyone among the nobles except his brother and Lady-Commander Halva.

READ THE WHOLE STORY HERE!

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Spider-Eating Elves:

Elves are beautiful, icy, and untouchable. Unfortunately, they always thought the same of humans. Worse yet, they also live in a forest full of giant insects, think tiny spiders are a delicacy, and have a strong-willed princess who is nothing but trouble.

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

From One King to Another

Duchess of Pies

Twilight Silk

An Entrance to Make

Raise a Glass (Subscriber Only!)

The Oak and the Climbing Rose

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More Stories!

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[officialleehadan]

The Oak and the Climbing Rose

Shimra wandered through the gardens, relishing the moment alone, and feeling entirely out of place. At least her dress was simple today. Princess Isera, who was known for setting all the latest fashions, had unbent enough to allow Shimra to wear a soft green over-gown of linen with an undyed chemise beneath and only two petticoats. Her hair, for the first time in a week, was braided back and tied with a ribbon.

So of course, that was when she rounded a hidden corner, under the branches of a towering oak tree festooned with climbing roses, and fell straight into the lap of a man she hadn’t even seen.

To his credit, he took her sudden appearance well and managed to catch her as she tripped over his legs. Shimra, never the image of grace, tumbled unceremoniously into the grass, and muttered a word she learned form one of the cut-purses who frequented her father’s inn as she fought with her heavy skirts.

This was not the sort of clothing she usually wore, and she missed her comfortable work-dresses. She struggled to straighten herself out, to the soft chuckles of the man she had fallen atop of.

When she got herself untangled, she looked up, prepared to thank him for his assistance, and also his patience, and muttered another, stronger curse.

The king, who Halva called Grath and Isera called idiot and who they both adored as a brother.

“My lady, I did not think to meet you here,” he said, face straight but lips curling with amusement at her language and the way she unsuccessfully scrambled for her feet, caught her hem under her heel, and nearly fell again. “Please, you needn’t stand on ceremony. I’m hiding from my maids.”

That… was not what she expected him to say, but when she took a closer look, she realized he was dressed as simply as she was, in a loose shirt and breeches tucked into comfortable boots, and wasn’t even wearing his crown. In fact, the only jewelry he wore was a single gold hoop in his left ear, and his royal signet.

“Ah,” she said, and managed a passable curtsy when she got her feet under her again. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty.”

“I can think of no man who would be disturbed by a beautiful duchess falling into their lap,” the king murmured, and offered her a real smile, his hair curling into his eyes as he looked up at her. He had a book open beside him, obviously dropped in his haste to catch her. Shimra blushed when she realized what he had said, and did her best not to fidget. “Are you enjoying the gardens?”

“They’re beautiful,” Shimra told him honestly as he retrieved his book and slipped a fallen leaf into the pages to make his spot. “I’ve never seen so many flowers. We have a little garden on the roof of our inn, but that’s for herbs and food, not flowers.”

“Your inn?” the king questioned, and tilted his head as he thought for a moment. “That’s right, Isera adopted you, didn’t she?”

“She said something about pies, and then there was an elf-king and I was a duchess,” Shimra admitted helplessly, and he laughed. “Is she always… like that?”

“Yes, that does sound like her,” the king laughed, and waved to his little patch of grass, surrounded by roses and well out of sight of the walking paths. “Will you sit with me a bit? I never get to just talk to people.”

That seemed like something of a bad idea, Shimra had no idea how to talk to a king, but he looked so hopeful, and seemed so kind, and he had raised a royal toast to the lower classes at the ball only two days earlier…

Shimra took her skirts in hand and settled herself on the grass. Maybe there would be stains later, but it was worth it when the king smiled at her, suddenly seeming much younger than she first took him for.

“Why are you hiding from your maids?” she asked when she was seated, and her feet were tucked under her comfortably. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“It’s summer, and we always hire new maids for the castle around this time,” The king admitted with a wry, uncomfortable shrug. “And they’ve all heard those songs, about a noble falling in love with them on the spot, and they keep bending over at me…”

Shimra couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face, and he glared at her without heat, before chuckling himself. “I’m sorry, Majesty, it’s just funny, them thinking you’ll, what, drop everything and wed them on the spot?”

“Please, call me Grath. You’re a friend of Isera and Halva’s, and I hope you won’t stand on ceremony with me, either,” he told her kindly, still smiling even as she tried valiantly to keep from choking on her own spit. Her, using the king’s name? Madness! “It’s not that I dislike women, or that I disapprove of nobility marrying into the working classes, but…”

“But you want someone to talk with,” Shimra offered, and began braiding a strand of daisies together into a crown to occupy her hands. Grath watched her, curious and interested, and she shifted so he could see better. “Well, I promise I’ll not bend over at you, if you tell me what you’re reading.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Grath laughed. “Promise you won’t tease me for it?”

“I promise no such thing, but I won’t tell anyone else, if it’s scandalous.” It seemed easy to joke like this, sitting in the grass with daisies in her hands and Grath looking like one of the local lads who came to her inn every night after work, and Shimra let herself relax into the warm, rose-scented air of the garden. “Now I’m terribly curious.”

“I’ll take my chances, I suppose,” he said, and turned the book so she could see the cover. “It’s poetry. I used to dream of running off to be a bard. This is as close as I’ll ever get, I suppose.”

“What stopped you?” Shimra asked before she could stop herself. “Duty?”

“The thought of my brother on the throne. Can you imagine?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, and tied her daisy chain off into a crown. Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward and settled it on his head, shocked at her own boldness. Grath stared at her, bedecked by daisies, and still smiling. “You’re king. You needed a crown, after all.”

“I suppose I do,” he murmured, and lifted the book. “…do you want to see?”

“I can’t read, except to label jars and count a bit of change,” Shimra said reluctantly, and wished it were otherwise. “I’m not… I’m not high-born. I never needed to read much. It always seemed like magic to me.”

“Well,” he told her after only a moment’s hesitation. “How about I read aloud? Poetry should be spoken aloud, anyway. And maybe, if you would indulge me, I could teach you?”

“You would…?” the very thought was absurd, but Shimra found herself terribly tempted. “You’re the king. I’m sure someone else…”

“I want to,” he murmured, and straightened his flower crown with a slight smile. “Consider it fair trade for not giving me away to the maids. They’re fearless, I swear, and determined.”

It was foolish. She shouldn’t accept. She was base-born, ennobled only last week, at the whim of a princess.

But his smile, and the way he let her crown him in daisies when he was used to gold decided her against her own better judgement.

“Alright,” she said, and moved to sit beside him where she could see the pages. “If only to protect you from your fearless maids. Now, what sort of poetry are you reading?”

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Spider-Eating Elves:

Elves are beautiful, icy, and untouchable. Unfortunately, they always thought the same of humans. Worse yet, they also live in a forest full of giant insects, think tiny spiders are a delicacy, and have a strong-willed princess who is nothing but trouble. 

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

Introductory Trouble

Lady of Grace

Lady of Stone, and her Girlfriend

Lady Retrieved

Monsters on the Wing

Spiderwebs and Cookies

Royal Match

Lines in the Sand

From One King to Another

Duchess of Pies

Twilight Silk

An Entrance to Make

Raise a Glass

(Subscriber Only!)

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More Stories!

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