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littlebird95 · 5 days ago

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I have always perceived the act of kneeling in the scene where Tav undergoes the transformation into a spawn not merely as an act of submission, but as a kind of oath-taking ceremony. In D&D lore, vampires possess a lawful evil alignment, which is inseparable from strict principles of hierarchy. Astarion calls Tav his consort, emphasizing not only his power and status but also Tav's crucial role in his plans. This also symbolizes their union within the framework of vampiric hierarchy and the new life that will begin after Tav's transformation.

Consort is a title traditionally used to refer to the spouse of a monarch. In the context of a royal family, a consort does not hold the rights of a ruler but serves as an important figure in public and state affairs.

It is particularly noteworthy that it is right after the night of the turning that Astarion first calls Tav his consort, which I personally cannot see as mere coincidence unless he intentionally imbued the event with ritualistic meaning. Such wording is undoubtedly steeped in an aura of regal solemnity, which is especially remarkable for Astarion, given his yearning for grandeur and liberation from his former subordinate position.

When Tav knelt before Astarion, I was reminded of the painting «The Coronation of Napoleon» by the French artist Jacques-Louis David. The painting depicts the moment when Napoleon Bonaparte crowns his wife Josephine during the ceremony held in 1804 at Notre-Dame de Paris. Napoleon stands on an elevated platform in his imperial attire, including a luxurious cloak trimmed with ermine, as he places the crown on Josephine's head himself.

Meanwhile, in the developer's note to the animation tag for this scene in the game, it says: «Tav kneels before Astarion. Astarion stands proud before the Player. He is powerful. He is free.»

I have no doubt that Astarion was indeed imbuing this moment with a special ritualistic meaning. He wants Tav to acknowledge his supremacy by kneeling before him, as if it were an oath-taking ceremony. This is not just an act of dominance but a kind of ritual with profound cultural and historical undertones.

Undoubtedly, this scene is filled with clear eroticism, which perfectly aligns with Astarion's love for decadence and theatrics. I find this quite amusing, and I'm sure Astarion also enjoyed playing with this subtext, giving the moment a particular sexual tension and sharpness. All of this comes together in a quirky pattern, creating an exceptionally rich scene where cultural and erotic motifs intertwine.

Kneeling is a gesture that carries a variety of meanings depending on the cultural, historical, and social context. It is commonly associated with expressions of respect, submission, devotion, or acknowledgment. In a religious context, kneeling symbolizes reverence before a higher power, humility, or repentance. For example, in Christianity, people kneel before an altar or during prayer. In some religions, the gesture signifies a plea for help, mercy, or forgiveness. In a monarchical context, kneeling has been used as part of rituals such as knighting ceremonies or being admitted into the circle of royal privileges. In the feudal context of the Middle Ages, vassals knelt before their liege lord as a symbol of loyalty and submission. This act was often accompanied by kissing the hand or a symbol of authority (such as a sword or crown). In a romantic context, kneeling is a gesture symbolizing a marriage proposal, as well as an expression of respect, admiration, and love.

For myself, I highlight the following:

Acknowledgment of sovereignty — kneeling before a monarch symbolizes submission to the authority of the crown and recognition of its legitimacy.

Acceptance into the circle of royal privileges — in this context, the act can be interpreted as a ritual of initiation, where kneeling marks entry into an exclusive circle, granting access to the advantages and status associated with monarchy.

Astarion perceives himself and Tav as something superior to all other beings, stemming from the fact that Tav becomes a vampire. He believes that the transformation of Tav into a vampire grants them the opportunity to become "something more," elevating them to a new level. This transformation not only makes Tav a vampire but also symbolizes their entry into a special, elite category of beings who possess power and authority beyond the reach of ordinary mortals or other creatures. For Astarion, as a vampire, this means that Tav can now share in his greatness.

Astarion: You are stronger now. Better. You will thank me one day, I am sure. Astarion: You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve.

An expression of respect and devotion — such a gesture underscores reverence for the monarch as a divine or political symbol.

Kneeling as an act of humiliation:

In Astarion's thoughts, one can discern that he views Tav’s decision to stay with him and become his spawn as something indicative of degradation, perhaps even moral decline.

When Tav agrees to become Astarion’s spawn, it can be interpreted as a conscious act of self-sacrifice, where they relinquish equality in the relationship and willingly submit to him. This step symbolizes the rejection of personal autonomy and the acceptance of absolute dependence. Tav entrusts their life entirely into his hands. Astarion: You have given me everything. Thank you. Astarion likely perceives such a decision as a form of "degradation," believing that a normal person, from his perspective, would not make such a choice. He tries to understand why Tav would do this and concludes that Tav derives a certain satisfaction from such a dynamic, perhaps even having an inclination toward it. Narrator: But perhaps you wish to degrade yourself. And he knows it.

This explains his surprise when Tav, contrary to his expectations, asks for tenderness. It’s simply not what he anticipates. His reaction reveals confusion and forces him to reassess Tav’s motives, as such a request goes beyond the scenario he had envisioned.

Astarion: So, tell me what you desire. What can I do for my dearest pet? Player: I want you. I want your body. Astarion: You've earned it. But don't you want more - don't you want eternity? One more bite is all it would take. As for Welch's remark that Astarion "won’t respect you," this narrative only applies to the phrase "I want your body," which itself is not required in the game. This line adds an interpretative layer but is not central to all the possible interactions between Tav and Ascended Astarion.

Baudelaire Welch: He's literally looking down on you because you are someone in that situation who believes you deserve sex as a reward. He will give it to you, but he won't respect you.

In essence, the entire narrative about the sexualization parallels the scene with Araj in Act 2, where the player asks for sex as a reward for defending Astarion before Araj or helping with Yurgir's murder. And although Welch desperately tried to impose this motif in the Ascended route, limiting roleplay, it is not the only one, and far from the most obvious. There are other reasons to help Astarion with the ritual, and even he is aware of them:

Astarion: Of course I understand love. All too well. The gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. A hunger crueller than bloodlust.

Many also overlook that Tav's consent to become his spawn is seen by Astarion as an expression of exceptional trust and devotion. His gratitude the following morning confirms this: he sincerely expresses appreciation for the trust shown in the very first phrase he addresses to Tav. Astarion: You are so beautiful... And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Moreover, trust becomes the leitmotif of his dialogues afterwards, especially when their relationship with Tav is questioned or criticized by their companions. Each time, he emphasizes that their relationship is built on this foundation:

Karlach: You know, Astarion, I'm not sure I can trust you anymore. You're… different. A bit scary, to be honest. Astarion: I have one person who trusts me completely. That's enough for me. Lae'zel: You have shared your new power with your lover, Astarion. I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted. Astarion: Quite the opposite - I need someone I can trust. And now I know they'll never betray me.

Unfortunately, in the kiss scenes of Patch 6, the original context was lost, and the focus shifted to themes of fear and humiliation that were not present in the original dynamic with Ascended Astarion. Considering that the kiss scenes were based on the scene of Tav’s transformation into a spawn, which is almost obvious, their emotional tone was distorted. For example, initially, Tav knelt entirely of their own free will, which emphasized the intentional and voluntary nature of their decision. In the kiss scenes, on the contrary, Tav is shown kneeling out of fear, the source of which remains unclear. Throughout the game, it is never shown what consequences Tav could fear for refusing to do so. In the transformation scene, Tav can refuse and not face any frightening consequences.

It also seems illogical when Tav is frightened when Astarion grabs them by the throat. This contradicts the transformation scene, where Tav themself initiated it, asking Astarion to hurt them and even tilting their head back, exposing their neck.

Astarion: It will only hurt a bit, the pleasure will be far greater than the pain. Player: Oh, come on. Let it hurt.

In the kiss scenes, however, this dynamic, based on mutual consent, was changed to an act of violence. This further exacerbates the inconsistency, especially considering that in the original script of this scene, it was noted that both Tav and Astarion derive pleasure from what is happening.

In dialogues, Ascended Astarion also demonstrated a willingness to be tender with Tav when Tav expressed it through words. He was not solely focused on rough dominance, as was attempted to be imposed in Patch 6. This change is likely an attempt by Larian to please the audience who, without going through the Ascended route and without understanding its nuances, actively promotes the narrative of the collective majority about the cycle of abuse.

Yes, the facial expressions in the kiss animations were changed due to fan requests for the Ascended route, but the aftertaste and consequences of these changes remain.

Some players still argue that facial expressions in role-playing games should be imposed "for the sake of the great narrative," while others use game conventions, such as cyclicality of animations, to demand the return of scared expressions. However, bringing back this dynamic would undermine the story and the character that fans of Ascended Astarion have known and loved for six months after the game's release.

In my opinion, to expand the role-playing experience, it would be much more useful not to return the scared expressions as an option, but to add the possibility for the lord to use more standard kisses, similar to those in Patch 5.

It is unclear why many are convinced that the vampire lord is incapable of tender kisses with Tav when his love scene demonstrated just this tenderness, and the moment with the kiss on the hand is one of the most refined and delicate romantic episodes. In particular, the kiss on the hand, which happens after the "be gentle" option is chosen, not only emphasizes Astarion's attention to Tav's desires and his willingness to listen, but also contradicts the notion of his exclusively dominant and cold nature.

If Astarion is capable of expressing such tenderness in intimacy, why is it excluded that the same softness could be maintained in his kisses?

The kiss in Patch 6 would only make sense if, upon choosing the "be gentle… if you can" option, Astarion ignored Tav's request, and his actions were no different from those in the "let it hurt" option.

I would also like to draw attention to the sharp contrast in Tav's facial expressions in the bite scenes, written by different writers. In Act 1, when Astarion was written only by Stephen Rooney, Tav's facial expression shows ecstasy, and this same expression is repeated in the lord's love scene, which, according to Welch, they did not write.

However, in the transformation scene, which, as Welch confirms, was written with their involvement, Tav's facial expression is noticeably different.

It’s not fear, like in the kisses from Patch 6, but the expression conveys a "problematic/kinky" mood — a term that Welch themselves used to describe this scene. This looks particularly strange in the dialogue where Tav explicitly asks to be hurt:

Astarion: Shall we have one last night together before you join me in immortality? One for the road, so to speak. Player: We shall not. I just need you to bite me. Astarion: Impatient are we? Well who am I to deny you?

This suggests that Welch’s views on "kinks" are at least debatable, and this influences how they are portrayed in the game. For example, Welch sees the transformation into a spawn as an "irreversible sex-pact/kink/form of gratification," but Tav's reaction in this scene is somewhat more uneasy than in previous episodes involving similar actions.

Both scenes are consensual, but they have a different tone simply because one of the writers condemned the player for "kinks," while the other did not.

In the cinematic context for the transformation scene, the following was stated: "You are naked and vulnerable before him." This feeling, it seems to me, is what the animators tried to convey and embody, capturing the intimacy of the moment. However, with the release of Patch 6, this message became distorted, turning into something entirely different — crude and devoid of the original subtle undertones.

In this context, I believe that the kisses from Patch 7 appear much more consistent compared to the facial expressions in Patch 6.

Especially when considering the following points:

Astarion grabs Tav by the neck solely at the player's initiative, and the dialogue clearly implies that Tav wants this.

Tav has previously reacted with obvious pleasure to similar actions by Astarion in other scenes.

I genuinely do not understand why Baudelaire Welch's contribution should be considered more significant, given that they joined the project during the later stages of the game's development. Especially when you consider that the character was originally created by another writer, who laid the foundation for his personality, story, and key traits. Prioritizing late additions that distort the original concept seems unfair and disrespectful to Astarion's creator and his vision.

At this point, I would like there to be an option in the game to kiss Astarion's hand. A hand kiss is also a symbolic gesture that conveys respect, devotion, submission, and acknowledgment of power or authority. I find this incredibly romantic, and I truly miss it. It would further emphasize the symbolism of this route.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #astarion analysis

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dippedinmelancholy · 2 months ago

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I’ve heard that DA:I was originally planned for the MC to only be able to be human, so idk if this is intentional or not by the devs.. .

Playing Lavellan, regardless of gender or sexuality, is just so insanely isolating and depressing, especially if you’re someone like me who latched on SUPER hard to the Dalish.

The Dalish elf gets sent to see if the humans can actually work out their problems. If they can give the mages rights, more freedom than they’ve ever known, maybe that means hope for how the Dalish are treated. But then, surprise, the Dalish tries to help a human woman being sacrificed by people who have sworn to protect the good of all, and everything goes to shit.

They’re suddenly at the head of a religion that has spent hundreds (thousands????) of years hunting them, hating them horribly, so much so that one of your first conversations with Josephine she mentions some of the rumors being Dalish making blood sacrifices. You’re “claimed” by this religion, and have no choice but to work with them. No matter what you believe, you cannot escape this. From this moment on, your entire heritage, family, and beliefs will be forgotten. You are carved in history as the history that even the “savage” Dalish can be claimed and saved by Andraste.

This could be endured. It’s horrible and icky, but on its own could be endured. No one has control over how the world perceives.

But nearly every companion either refuses to acknowledge you are Dalish and that matters to you, or they (Looking at you Sera) outright are disgusted by you, and vocalize how much they hate that part of you at every chance they can. Cassandra, though I don’t think she means to, is horrible insulting by asking if there’s not some space for one more god for you, as though they haven’t used “the Maker” to hunt and punish Dalish.

Josephine is the only one who shows softness or understanding.

But you endure. There has to be a reason, and even if there isn’t, you have to protect the world, because if not you then who will? All the while, this budding, horrible fear of what happens after. No Lavellan can be foolish enough to NOT have that fear. When the threat is dealt with, the dust settles, and the humans grow more comfortable and forget how grateful they are to you, what will happen? A Dalish will not be allowed to keep such power, wielding it over humans. Especially not if you has the misfortune of being born a mage.

And then Trespasser. Your gods aren’t gods, and even if they were, they never cared about you. You’ve spent all your life clinging to the pride that even though life as a Dalish is hard, it is worth it because you are FREE. You are not servants or slaves, you are free, and that makes the suffering worth it. But you were never free. You willingly welcomed slave markings, and the world was too shattered for any of your people to ever know the truth of their history.

And though you and your people have prayed to the gods all their lives, it’s no a single one of them that gives you the mercy of this truth. No. It’s the most feared of the gods, the unspoken, the whispered, the cursed. The Dread Wolf. The rebellion of those slave markings, in your midsts, and in my case, in your bed, in your heart.

Your world is shattered. You are dying. Everything is in tatters because you were foolish enough to try and help a human woman, when no human has ever reached a helping hand to you. Yet, the only remaining constant is that you are alone.

You are alone and you are a fool.

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition thoughts #female lavellan #lavellan #dalish elf #why is it so depressing #seriously I cannot like sera I’ve tried so hard

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theboogierat · 3 months ago

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Meriam is not a well-written mother, sorry.

It's not a surprise, either. Meriam isn't the saint of a mother constantly portrayed in Leasebound, and I argue that the narrative does her injustice several times by not letting her be a person.

Shez's backstory is far from a shounen hero arc. It's sad, and it's a prime example of Rusty not capitalising on potentially great story arcs for her characters.

To begin, Meriam's story starts when her first husband abandons her in Austalia. She gets a job as a cleaner (and takes off her hijab), as well as takes care of Shez until Chris comes along and acts super creepy until he convinces her to marry him. And then chapter 12 happens.

Chris-era Meriam I will not call a bad mother. She was a young woman stuck in a horrible situation, and had to do what she could to help her daughters and her to survive the conflict.

My biggest gripe with chapter twelve is that Rusty calls it a "shounen" arc. Her portrayal of Meriam and her situation accurately does not look like a shounen arc; it's a serious abusive relationship that they need to escape. Meriam, I'd argue, was treated as 'motivation' for Shez and her backstory at best and a figurehead for why women shouldn't partner with men at worst. Rather than treating Meriam as a character, she's often portrayed as a sobbing mess at the mercy of her husband and then later a poor victim who finally got the life she deserved after escaping.

Since the story is a recollection from Shez, you could argue that's why Meriam is portrayed this way. Shez sees her mother as someone in constant need of saving- it's why she thinks that Meriam never had a life outside her kids and her abuse.

But I doubt rusty would write that. The narrative shows Shez as a great hero who inspired her mother to take action because her mother can't defend herself without her daughter - HER FOURTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER- having to step in for her.

(This moment is particularly apalling; how could anyone see this as a power fantasy?!)

There are almost no healthy mother-daughter relationships in Lease Bound, which is really weird for a so-called feminist comic. Josephine and Jaden. Alexis and HER mother. And yes, Shez and Meriam.

Meriam is a deeply flawed mother. Meriam was married at a young age, had to take care of Shez alone in a foreign country, and then got abused. She will make mistakes, and she's made many, because she had no support from the outside and ultimately all she had were her daughters. That could make a strong, protective, fierce Mama bear....

...but she isn't. She's a **victim**. She's hurt, and she needs Shez to save her. She begs her ten year old daughter to help her after her daughter fights a battle for her. She needs her daughter to train to fight Chris for her. That's not something admiring, that's not a power fantasy. That is fucked up.

And that doesn't mean she needs to be rewritten! This can be good! This can be amazing, even! Meriam could be an actually interesting character, going in-depth on how her abuse didn't MAKE HER A STRONG PERSON! HER ABUSE WAS ABUSE! ABUSE DOESNT MAKE YOU STRONGER! IT TRAUMATIZES YOU! IT MAKES YOU NEED SUPPORT, AND THERAPY, AND YOU ARE HUMAN AND- GOOD GOD!

Why is she portrayed as the mother who can do no wrong because she got abused?! Why isn't she treated with a sliver of more nuance than "the victim"?! Why isn't Meriam seriously challenged, deconstructed, analysed, as anything other than "Shez's mom who got abused and made her hate men?"

That is bad writing! Framing abuse as a continuation of your political agenda instead of seriously exploring abuse and a person's psyche and how it affects someone!

And...well...that's how Meriam is written. That's how Rusty wants us to see her. And it's frustrating because sometimes- sometimes- Rusty gets it right.

This moment is poignant. It's my favourite Meriam moment because she's self- aware, and challenged by Shez. Rusty can do it- she just abandons it in favour of five hundred more pages of "trans bad men bad".

So...we explored all that. We tackled the surface of my feelings towards Meriam. What now?

I can't say more, because I feel like a broken record. In fact, go read up several other posts by incredibly talented Leasebound content creators who have made several dissertations on the story, and they will tell you that Lease Bound is, in fact, badly written, and that Rusty Hearts needs to do more with her story.

Thanks for reading! More about Meriam and Shez is coming soon, and I'll update this post when I finish writing it!

#lease bound #leasebound text post #leasebound #anaylsis #rusty hearts

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ishallgivehimupforever · 3 months ago

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A SHORT (NOT) MESS OF AN ESSAY ON HOW CLARKE AND BELLAMY ARE INCREDIBLY ESSENTIAL TO THEIR UNIVERSE This is a half-humorous post about the ridiculousness of the plot, but believe me it's filled to the brim with my love for it

Or, in which explaining the plot of the numbers show would get me institutionalized. I refuse to check wiki while writing this post so if I'm wrong about any of the lore and dates, just look past it. So, ~100 years before S1 we have the following happening: Becca Franco is a brilliant billionaire who is a genetic engineer, a prodigy coder, oh and a eugenics supporter who is working on a superior black-blooded race. She also creates A.L.L.I.E - an AI that does not understand that sometimes the end does not justify the means In the background, WW3 is raging, Diyoza is blowing up fascist governments, the U.S. president is a Wallace. And then there is this bombshell blonde Josephine Ada Lightbourne, with her princess haircut, who is a huge fan of Becca's. She is preparing to embark on a mission to look for inhabitable planets onboard of Eligious III. Those who are part of this mission are equipped with memory drives inside their heads for storing data about new environments. Eventually, Becca has one of those inside her head, too. Meanwhile, Diyoza and >300 other prisoners are sent on a mining mission on a bunch of rocks in space aboard Eligious I. They are put to sleep in cryopods developed by Becca's company. Meanwhile, it can be assumed that Clarke's ancestors and Bellamy's great-great-great grandpa with 4 PhDs have begun their space station jobs.

97 years later, we all know what happens, 101 people are sent to Earth on what is believed by many to be a suicidal mission. There is nothing inherently special about Clarke or Bellamy. I mean, of course they are dearly special to my heart and turn out to be incredibly special to the universe, but before I humorously describe the plot progression, I need to emphasize, they are two humans who lived all of their life on a tin can in space, and while within the context of the Ark they are special (Clarke is a "princess", of course not literally but it does not seem far fetched that she would end up becoming the Chancellor someday; Bellamy is the only big sibling on the ark which gives him personality traits unique for someone his age as far as the ark is concerned). But they are not supernatural beings, they do not have nightblood, they are not chosen ones, know what I mean? And yet:

S1: the most down-to-earth season, after that the stakes will only go up. Objective: make sure that the 102 has as many survivors as possible until the adults get down to Earth. Enemies: grounders, reapers, wildlife, elements, toxic fog (mountain men but they do not know that yet), sometimes the delinquents turn against other delinquents. Clarke uses her calculating, cunning, and caring nature as well as her medical skills to gain respect among the group. By the end of S1 she is someone that the rest of the delinquents look up to guidance. Bellamy uses his PhD in public speaking (why is he sometimes "quiet" in blarke fanfic, he is literally the yapper boyfriend) and combat prowess to initially scare people into deference, however his caring side cannot be contained for too long. By the end of S1, he is someone that the rest of the delinquents look up to for guidance. Blarke status: co-leaders who respect and inspire each other and friends who flirt at the most improper occasions

S2: the season with the finale to end all season finales trademark.

Objective: break the 47 out of mount weather; establish a truce with the grounders and claim some territory for arkadians Enemies: Mountain Men, grounders and their commandor but in a "enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend kinda way, gorilla mutant

Clarke - kills her ex-boyfriend (and that is the merciful option), and becomes a de-facto chancellor due to incompetence of A/bby and K/ane; negotiates a deal with the grounder ruler - L/xa who in her head HAS A MIND DRVE WITH ALLIE 2.0 THE MORE ADVANCED VERSION OF THE AI WHO NUKED THE WORLD and also HAS THE MEMORIES OF BECCA FRANCO. Clarke kisses l/xa - the start of a long situationship with the chip.

Bellamy - goes on an extremely risky one-man undercover mission to infiltrate Mount Weather. Just so it resonates, Bellamy is not a trained spy or a navy seal or a special forces soldier. He pulls of this insane feat of disabling the acid fog without being caught(the fog machine apparently has been killing the grounders for 50+ years and is the reason why the grounders could not retaliate against MW all this time!!!! He!! really!! did!! all1! that!! without being caught AND was actively working on protecting the 47 simultaneously) Blarke status: bonded over the actual genocide of MW (including the Wallace lineage) after the grounders forced their hand by utterly betraying them. S3 - the season when things start to get out of hand Objective: claim safe territory for arkadians to live and hunt for food; develop an alliance with the grounders (who stabbed them in the back in S2); make sure the commander keeps her word that arkadians are part of the alliance; make sure Ice nation does not ascend and wipe out skycrew; keep their own people from being executed by their own people; stop Emerson; stop THE AI THAT ENDED THE WORLD WITH NUKES, stop the zombies controlled by said AI; obtain a nightblood in order to access Becca and stop the evil AI SAVE THE WHOLE HUMAN RACE

Enemies: grounders (heh I see a pattern); Pike (kinda), Queen Nia, Emerson, Roan (kinda), Ontario, ALLIE, Jaha (kinda), l/xa (kinda), Echolocation wew, just writing it down, they really did try to do everything in those 16 episodes, didn't they? ALLIE the AI that NUKED THE PLANET bats her eyelashes flirtatiously at BELLAMY while possessing Raven. Calls out Bellamy for being more devoted to Clarke than to his actual girlfriend. i need to emphasise that THE AI THAT IS RESPONSIBLE FOR ENDING THE CIVILATION IS INVESTED IN BELLARKE RELATIONSHIP DRAMA.

Clarke enters the chip inhabited by her lover and by Becca Franco. Has a conversation with both ALLIE and Becca. The memory of 'together" gives her strength to pull the kill switch.

ALLIE: so essentially in 6 month is the last day of humanity because of the second nuclear apocalypse incoming,

Clarke: don't worry, me and Bellamy will figure something out :))) together :))) (with Raven ofc, I mean no erasure to my girl, its just this post is focusing on bellarke) ALLIE: :O Im exhausted Ive already been writing out this post for an hour, Im glad I'm halfway through

Blarke status: reunited and it feels so good. Saved the world (but not quite yet) S4 - the calamity season

Objective: Save the human race (again)

Enemies: Primefiya, Ice Nation (kinda), Ilian (for a hot second), ALLIE 1.0 (for Raven) Uncle Jaha sets up Blarke on a day trip in order to feed them some lore that will be relevant later. Bellamy picks up a coin with the 'from the ashes we will rise" written on it, which will prompt Jaha to correlate this with the grounder prayer which will make him ask the flaimkeeper about it which will lead them to check the temple which will lead them to discovering the bunker. So I think that all the ppl who found salvation inside the bunker owe their life to Bellamy in a round about way.

Clarke once again negotiates an alliance with the grounders. Acts as de facto chancellor. Bellarke act as the leaders of the sky people as god intended. Clarke becomes a nightblood (this will be extra relevant in S6) O*tavia is credited with something that was Clarke's idea in the first place and would be impossible without Bellamy's help. So everyone say thank you Clarke and Bellamy for saving us :) Blarke status: This voice mail is currently full. S5: We are not pretanding that the apocalypse could have possibly happened around 2050 anymore considering the technology available

Objective: Save the human race and Earth. Try not to destroy the only inhabitable spot of land left on the planet challenge.

Enemies: Paxton "Graveyard" McCreary, Diyoza (kinda), rest of the miner's crew, Kara Cooper, Octonian, Miller (for a minute) Diyoza, the former navy seal corporal turned domestic anti-fascist terrorist back from 106 years ago is very invested in the Bellarke relationship status. Bellamy makes a deal with Diyoza & her army by having a galaxy brain and keeping that Best Dad in the Universe mug - truly an iconic behavior. This leads to a) saving Clarke and Madi (a.k.a his wife and daughter uwu) b) opening the bunker, which apparently the 814 left in the bunker had no prospects of opening so please say thank you Bellamy fast forward to the end - Clarke and Bellamy are off to ANOTHER FUCKING PLANET?!?! and making decision regarding the fate of the human race again as God intended. Also Marper got to be happy and grow old together <3 miss them though. Blarke status: they got sick of their world-wide fame and now are onto their galaxy-wide fame. They have 2 kids. S6 - The most romantic 10 episodes of television brought to screen I think Objective: explore Alpha; find a safe territory for their people; make alliances with Sanctum; uh oh what are those people up to???; sci-fi horror intensifies; SAVE CLARKE; and the rest of sky crew I guess; keep an eye on Jordan and Madi (objective failed); act on feelings (objective failed)

Okay, so. We have this awesome chick Josephine and she and neuroscientist Gabriel are sooooo in love. They are quite crazy about each other. Josie is very flirtatious but you can tell that what she and Gabriel have is something special. But then BUT THEN Josie is murdered by her own dad while he was having an environment-driven psychotic episode. and Gabriel is NOT READY TO LET HER GO HE LOVES HER OKAY. And her dad, Russel, obviously feels guilty as fuck and cannot live with himself. So Russel and Gabriel work on defeating death. Yea you heard that right, we are dealing with immortality now. After decades of inhumane experiments they succeed in bringing Josie back in some innocent girl';s body. How? Because Josie was backed up on a mindrive, that was developed by Becca. You know, the same Becca that caused the world to end the first time and inadvertently caused the plot of the whole show to happen. The same Becca whose AI was very invested in Bellarke relationship drama. I digress

Fast forward ~250 years later, Josie is a bubbly psychopath (she sad endearingly). And Gabriel actually noped the fuck out of this eugenics oblation camp 70 years prior. This caused Josie to become even colder and more ruthless, she doubled down after she realised that the love of her life had become disgusted by her. She does no longer remember how it feels to be loved or how did it feel TO love someone as she did Gabriel. One day, She wakes up and discovered she was put in the body of the iconic Clarke "Ferrari" Griffin herself. She thinks she will get away with the (not successful) murder of her because she has a lot to offer her friends in return, namely immortality, territory, and all the intel about the planet they had gathered. BUT BUT BUT she did not expect one Bellamy Goddamn Blake a.k.a the love of Clarke's life.

He is the first one to realize that Clarke is not Clarke. He is the first one to realize that Clarke is ALIVE. By seeing Clarke memories Josie knows that what would be likely to make Clarke stop trying is the belief that Bellamy gave up on her. BITCH YOU THOUGHT

So she experiences Bellamy DRAGGING her on forest floor and being gentle with her body at the same time because it is CLARKE's body. While they are in a cave she teases him about his relationship with Clarke, then reminisces about Gabriel and gets all sappy, and then by taunting Bellamy she hears "I wont let you die" and let me tell you SHE'S SHOOk. SHE FORGOT. SHE FORGOT YOU COULD LOVE SOMEONE SO MUCH. SHE FORGOT YOU COULD BE LOVED SO MUCH. IT PROBABLY REMINDS HER OF HOW GABRIEL ONCE WAS DEVOTED TO HER AND T SHAKES HER TO THE CORE.

Fast forward to Bellamy showing up Just In Time, undercover (as is his favorite past time) Josie says mockingly "because of course it s" BUT YOU KNOW SHE'S IMPRESSED. Then, The Tent, o man, THE TENT. Josie, probably slowly accepting that this might really be her end, admits to Bellamy in the softest voice "she was right to depend on you" And then she pleads with Gabriel and it's heartbreaking because yes she's a villain, she's a eugenist, a psycho, even simply Evil, probably BUT ONCE SHE WAS A BRILLIANT, RESOURCEFUL, CONFIDENT YOUNG WOMAN LIKE CLARKE. AND SHE JUST WANTED TO GROW OLD WITH GABRIEL. AND GABRIEL TELLS HER I LOVED YOU FOR CENTURIES AND BELLAMY'S FACE AND JOSIE GOT TO HAVE TO SPEND HER LAST MOMENTS WITH GABRIEL THANKS TO BELLAMY AND CLARKE AND IT GIVES HER STRENGTH TO KIND OF ACCEPT DEATH, PERMANENTLY "IN THIS BIG SLEEP, WHAT DREAMS MAY COME" "I HAVE TO LET YOU GO NOW" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA NA DTHEn AND THEN WE HAVE THE CPR SCENE "I NEED YOU" "YOU'RE A FIGHTER SO GET UP AND FIGHT" "I AM NOT LETTING YOU GO" MOUTH TO MOUTH, TRUE LOVE"S KISS And Clarke looks at him like he hung the stars in the sky. Bellamy looks at her like he is the only star in his sky. And they save their friends. again. And they Do Better.

Cause they are better. together. And they are SO.POWERFUL

Their relationship literally transcends centuries and planets. Wow this is long. My legs are tired from sitting in one position. Who made it till the end?

#bellarke #josephine lightbourne #gabriel santiago #the 100 #this is mainly an excuse to scream about Bellamy X Clarke X Josephine X Gabriel #But I take very long to actually get to the point #bellamy blake #I have no one irl to ramble at about this show so forgive me #my friends would think i'm on crack

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a-driftamongopenstars · 1 month ago

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in the after hour; inquisitor x blackwall ficlet

needed to write my beloved Sylani Lavellan and Blackwall together again, so here's a little ficlet after the events of the Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts :) a lot of guilt, some romance, some tension. the good stuff! also on ao3

It is strange that the night goes on after history has been made. Just some hours ago, Blackwall watched the Inquisitor prevent a coup and end a civil war in Orlais. She stood there, facing down the nobility, terrifying and bold. With her resolve and quiet fury, the night should have stopped in its tracks. The moons should have shone high and bright for as long as she wished for it. If she could order about an Empress, surely she could command nature itself.

Yet, the clocks are ticking and the stars are gleaming and the moons hurry away behind the clouds.

In the quarters assigned to the Inquisition, servants move around near invisible. There is weariness in the air, the smell of rich sweet wine. Cullen has long left for his room. Leliana is upholding Josephine by her arm. Poor Lady Ambassador is in no state at all, sputtering between amazement and frustration at all the work that is to be done tomorrow, and the day after, and more. The Inquisition has yet again meddled in all things political, exercising its will.

“You don't need to do anything right now, Josie,” Leliana reassures her, guiding her away.

Dorian is quietly sipping a small mug of hot wine by one of the fireplaces, Vivienne beside him, joined in a quiet conversation.

Inquisitor sits alone by another fireplace, her chin resting in her hands. Warm light flickers over her, highlighting the tiredness that set into her bones and skin. Her black hair is flowing down her shoulders, an elaborate updo undone, tiny red gems still flickering, woven in.

“My Lady?” he asks, approaching, and she moves to make space on a cushioned bench. The folds and skirts of her dress whisper softly against the plush of the seat. Her lips turn into a warm smile of welcome, all for him, a rare sight for any other.

“I can't decide if going to sleep is worth it anymore. It's almost sunrise.”

“You've done the impossible today. I think it has earned you a sleep in, at the very least.”

Sylani smiles and lets out a small sigh.

“The impossible, huh.”

She gives the room a quick glance before leaning closer. Blackwall cannot help but admire the shine of her big eyes as she looks at him. His heart fills with quiet joy and yearning. If only the Winter Palace did not have eyes in every wall and corner, if only those walls did not listen. He would have kissed her. He would have made a beautiful mess of her red lips. Some part of him still wants to do it, caring little for those eyes in the walls.

“Speaking of the impossible… You've never told me. About the Silverite Wings of Valor.”

Blackwall feels a whiplash of warmth against his cheeks and coldness creeping up his spine. A sensation all too familiar.

“I can only imagine the story behind that,” she adds. Staring up at him, admiration and awe in perfect mixture. She wants to know, she wants to drop the walls he built around himself, to get to the core of him. She wants to share in his bravery, to be proud of him.

If only she knew how close she was to making it happen. But sometimes even the most appetising fruit has a rotten core.

Blackwall takes her hands in his, her delicate calloused fingers looking so beautiful against his crude scarred palm.

“A tale for another time, my Lady. It is not prudent to celebrate my victories when yours take precedent.”

He brings her hand to his lips, hating himself with every fibre of his being. Another lie. Another stone upon his consciousness, threatening to cause a landslide should it all come to light. When.

Sylani’s free palm rests against his cheek. It's warm, divine and holy. He kisses it where the anchor rests, judging him by Andraste’s mercy.

“Will you join me?” she whispers, her lips barely moving. “In my rooms?”

Oh the sweet tantalising dream. To have her in the heart of the Empire he used to kill for. To have her, loving and making love to her. To protect her from anything that would disturb her sleep. To be the man she deserves.

To simply be with her.

“Are we to become the talk of the Winter Palace, my Lady? That is one certain way to make it happen,” he chuckles.

Sylani returns a soft laugh.

“I think they have enough to discuss after tonight. But very well. Come watch the sunrise with me, at least?”

She is not letting go of his hand, curling hers over his fingers. There is strength in her and resolve. The steel he has in his sword, but not in his spine.

“That I can do, my Lady.”

He presses his lips to her hand once again, eyes closed.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor x blackwall #inquisitor lavellan #warden blackwall #sylani lavellan #fanfiction #driftcreates

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mumms-the-word · 3 months ago

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Love and Loss

Characters: Josephine Montilyet x Male Trevelyan (Everett), also Cassandra, Dorian, Varric, Cullen, Leliana, Vivienne, and Cole Summary: TRESPASSER SPOILERS AHEAD - Everett has caught up with Solas and Solas has granted him one last mercy by stopping the mark on his hand from spreading. But the mark is still killing Everett. His friends drag him back to the Winter Palace to try and save his life. If they can't stabilize the mark, then they will have to get rid of the arm instead - even if that means an emergency amputation. A/N: This is probably my favorite DA fic I've ever written but I know it probably isn't to everyone's tastes. See tags for CWs. I didn't want to put them here because they kind of spoiler the ending reveal haha. Read it on AO3!

Everett stumbled out of the eluvian, blind with pain, gritting his teeth so hard to stop from screaming that they nearly cracked. Sharp crackling stabs of pain shot up along his left arm, constricting his lungs and fueling a deepening, burning ache in his chest. Whatever Solas had done to the Anchor, it had stopped it spreading—but it hadn’t stopped the pain. He could barely stand. He couldn’t find his feet and his legs held no strength. His arms were draped around the necks and shoulders of Dorian and Cassandra, with Varric hot on their heels.

“Clear the way!” Cassandra barked. She had one of Everett’s arms around her shoulders, and Dorian had the other, still flaring wildly with green rift magic. Everett tried to find his footing and failed. His legs had gone numb. Dark fog began to crowd the corners of his vision as he struggled to draw in shallow gasps between waves of pain.

The soldiers that stood guard on either side of the mirror jumped back as they burst through. “What in the Maker’s—”

“There’s no time!” Cassandra snapped. “Send for some healers!”

Cullen appeared in the doorway, his face pale but his expression fierce, sword drawn and ready. “What’s going on here?”

“My arm,” Everett growled, the words barely intelligible through his clenched teeth. He cried out in pain as another wave drilled into his chest and stole his breath, his legs giving out beneath him. Dorian and Cassandra grunted under the dead weight, but they managed to hold him up. “I can’t—”

Cullen looked at Everett’s arm, crackling and sparking with magical energy, and took an involuntary step back. “Are we in danger?”

“No.” Everett squeezed his eyes shut, panting, trying to focus, to think through the pain. It was getting more and more difficult. “S-Solas contained it. It won’t—it won’t explode. It won’t spread.” He ground out another groan between clenched teeth as the pain stabbed once more through him, harder, incessant.

Cassandra flinched when a flicker of energy from his arm brushed her cheek. “But it’s still killing you!”

“Solas said it wouldn’t—”

“I do not care what Solas said!”

“We must remove it,” Dorian said, adjusting his hold on Everett. “If this keeps up, he’ll die from shock, if the pain doesn’t drive him mad first.”

Everett barely registered the words. Another spasm, sharp and hot, seized his arm, and this time he fell to his knees, nearly taking Dorian and Cassandra with him. They let him drop to the floor and he curled around his arm, digging his fingers into his forearm as though he wanted to rip the entire thing from his body.

“What in—Everett!”

Panting, he looked up at the voice. Josephine. She had her hands over her mouth, staring horrified at him, at his sweaty face, his shaking frame, his crackling arm.

“Get her out of here,” he growled. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He’d spent most of their time at the Winter Palace avoiding her every time his hand acted up, just to keep her from worrying. Saving her from those worries meant nothing now, if she saw him at his near-fatal worst. “Varric, please, I—”

Before Varric could so much as move, Leliana appeared at Josephine’s shoulder, the robes of the Divine looking sickly green in the light of the eluvian and bright, surging light of Everett’s mark. She took in the scene in seconds and grabbed Josephine’s arm, tugging her back.

“Josie.”

But Josephine didn’t move. Her normally amber skin looked gray in this light. Everett groaned again in pain, curling around his arms to try and contain the sight.

“Give me your arm,” Dorian said, crouching by Everett. Without waiting for him, Dorian wrested his arm free and got to work tugging off his gloves. It had become a mangled mess of burned and melted leather and bits of metal, barely even recognizable. While Dorian tried to remove all the mess, Cassandra started on the buckles of Everett’s armor, trying to get it off, to give them both access to his arm without hindrances. Everett tried to help but the pain was so fierce in his arm he couldn’t move it, not even to bend at the elbow.

Dorian swore colorfully in Tevene. “Where are those damned healers?”

“There’s no time!” Cassandra yelled. The Anchor surged again and Everett curled in on himself again, nearly touching his forehead to the floor.

“Move aside.”

Vivienne’s commanding voice shot through the air like a cannon, and the small crowd, Josephine, Leliana, and Varric included, parted from the door to let her enter. Behind her, Cole hovered just outside, pale eyes wide. Vivienne swept through the tiny room to take a knee by Everett and place one cold hand on his cheek. “Tell me what you need, my dear.”

“I need—the pain—to stop,” he ground out.

“Healing magic won’t stop it,” Dorian said. He and Cassandra tugged Everett’s mail off, tossing it with the rest of the armor they’d torn from him. Everett had only his sweat-soaked shirt left, messily untucked from his trousers in Dorian and Cassandra’s hasty work to remove his armor. “Trust me, I tried. There’s nothing more to be done. If we don’t remove it now—”

Magic surged once more in his arm, and Everett yelled out, unable to stop himself. He collapsed on the floor, his body seizing and twitching as the pain stabbed into his chest, causing his heart to jitter erratically and his lungs to constrict all at once. Distantly he heard Josephine call his name.

“Hold him down!” Cullen yelled, all but throwing soldiers toward Everett. “Cassandra—”

“I know, Cullen!” She unsheathed her blade, her knuckles white on the hilt.

Soldiers wrestled Everett onto his back, sitting and laying on his legs, his torso, his right arm. Everett gasped for air as the pain subsided just enough to for his lungs to release. He could do nothing to resist. Cullen seized his marked hand and pulled the arm out taut, holding it to the ground with his knee as he pushed Everett’s sleeve up nearly to his shoulder. He ripped off his belt and cinched it tight around Everett’s arm, just above the elbow. The pain from the belt was lost entirely in all the rest of the chaos.

Vivienne and Dorian exchanged a quick look, and soon fire was in Dorian’s hands, pale green healing magic in Vivienne’s. Cassandra thrust her blade toward Dorian, and he heated the metal until it was white. Everett gritted his teeth, panicked noises escaping his throat unbidden. There were too many people. Too many bodies on top of his. The pain was unbearable. Maker, Andraste, he wanted it to end, he just wanted everything to stop. His eyes rolled, blind to everything but searching out that one face anyway, the one he kept close to his mind and his heart in his worst hours, yet hoping at the same she was gone, that she hadn’t stayed to witness this torture.

But she had stayed.

Leliana had her pinned in a corner, trying to shield her view with her body, while Varric tried to usher them both out the door. Josephine had one hand clutched on Leliana’s Divine robes, the other clamped tight over her mouth. Their eyes met for the briefest moment, his wide with panic, hers flowing with tears. He couldn’t be strong for her. Maker curse him, he couldn’t do it.

A pulse of pain slammed through his arm, and Everett arched, seizing up and yelling, squeezing his eyes shut. There was nothing else for him—nothing but pain, shooting from his hand deep into his chest, threatening to stop his heart, to collapse his lungs, to suffocate him and kill him with its strength. Behind his closed eyelids he saw nothing but white—white stars, white pain, white fire.

Was this the end?

“Now!” Cullen yelled.

Cassandra gave something like a war cry and a sudden, new, white-hot pain seared at his elbow. The crackling and singeing of the Anchor fell away, replaced by a blazing, scorching pain—and then nothing.

Nothing.

Ringing filled his ears, blocking out every sound, even the sound of his own gasping breaths. Though his eyes were open, he saw nothing but darkness and ghostly stars. He sensed as if through a dream, people all around him, nearly suffocating him. Hands holding him down, the entire weight of several men on him, but vaguely, as if he were distanced from his own body. He could no longer feel Cullen’s knee pressing into his left wrist. Had he blacked out?

Slowly, sensation came to him. He lay there, panting, his entire body heaving with the effort to breathe. Several soldiers moved off. Vivienne was on his left, illuminated by pale green healing magic as she focused on his arm. She glanced up at him, dark eyes unreadable, and placed one of her hands on his forehead, cooling it with ice magic.

“How are you, my dear?”

“I don’t—I don’t feel anything,” he rasped. No pain, but nothing else either. He glanced around. Cassandra knelt beside him, her bloodied, still-hot blade loose in her grip, her face covered by her hand. Dorian stood behind her, watching Vivienne’s work with a grim expression. Cullen sat on the floor, leaning back on his hands, his face pale and sweaty. And between his feet…

Everett looked away, quickly. It was one thing to know he would lose his arm, to wish for it to be gone. It was another entirely to see it, lifeless on the floor beside him. Panic started to grip him, tightening his throat. None of this seemed real. He was struck with an absurd desire to laugh. That was his arm. Just lying there. Completely separated from his body.

He was going mad.

He resisted the urge to try and move his left hand, swallowing both laughter and panic as much as he could.

“I can’t feel anything,” he whispered again.

“A blessing, all things considered,” Dorian said. “That blade should have been hot enough to deaden your nerves immediately.”

“And my magic is keeping you from further pain.” Vivienne focused once more on his arm. Everett didn’t dare look. His heart thundered in his chest. If he thought too long about the dead limb at his side, he was certain he’d lose his mind. Vivienne’s eyes flickered back to his face again, as if she sensed his heart beating erratically. “Calm yourself, my dear. The worst is over.”

He managed a nod. He had to believe that.

“Maybe we should move the Inquisitor’s uh…arm out of the room?” Varric said. Even he sounded shaken, though he hid it well. “I think we’d all be a little less queasy with it gone.”

Cassandra sighed and lowered her hand from her face. “Varric.”

“What? I’m just saying…”

Cullen stood and gestured to a soldier along the wall. “You there—wrap this up. Use your shirt if you have to. Take it outside and burn it.”

“Y-yes sir.”

“Perhaps a magical fire would be best to dispose of it, yes?” Dorian said. “I’ll go prepare one.” He shot Everett one last, concerned glance and left.

Everett tried to swallow again. His throat was sore and inflamed from his screams and he was desperate for water. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as the soldier wrapped up his—the severed limb beside him. “Where…where is Josephine?”

“I am here, Everett.” Her voice, quiet and shaky, came from the corner where he’d last seen her. He briefly closed his eyes, a dull ache in his chest that had nothing to do with the Anchor.

“You should have left.”

She didn’t respond. The soldier stood up and hurried away, the cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. Everett tried again to ignore the urge to flex his left fingers. He focused instead on the numbing magic Vivienne was washing over him, through her hand on his forehead. Gradually, his heart slowed. He began to breathe easier.

In the back of his mind, he wondered how badly he would be panicking without her magic to calm him. Maker, if Josephine had to witness that…

Vivienne pulled off the belt that was still cinched tight just above his elbow and rolled his sleeve back down over what was left of his arm. She deftly tied it off, making a neat knot. “There. That’s all that can be done for now.” She stood and glanced around the room. “I suggest you find yourself a bed and rest for the day, Inquisitor. Your health is in a delicate state. I will have a few select potions and teas sent to your room shortly.”

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Everett whispered. She glanced back down at him and he thought he saw her eyes soften.

“Anything for you, my dear.”

“How did you get here so quickly?” Cassandra asked, finally standing. “We’d only just sent people from the room when you stepped in.”

“The demon alerted me.” She slid her gaze to the door, where Cole stood, worrying at his hands. He remained quiet, watching.

“He’s human, Vivienne,” Everett said, exhaustion settling over him. He was still reluctant to move his left arm. Or move at all. “He’s been fully human for over two years now.”

Vivienne’s lip curled ever so slightly, her icy mask back in place. Any softness in her gaze hardened once more to crystal. “Semantics, darling. But…I suppose Thedas owes him its thanks. You’d be dead otherwise. Get some rest, Inquisitor.”

She brushed past Cole and left the room. Cole stared after her, his face hidden by his hat. Silence hovered in the air for a few seconds until Cullen blew out a breath.

“Some things never change,” he muttered. He pointed to a group of soldiers standing near the door. “Carry the Inquisitor to the nearest bed—I don’t care whose it is.”

“No,” Cole said softly, turning back around. He took a few quiet steps into the room. “He doesn’t need that.”

Everett suppressed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure if he could stand, let alone walk anywhere. He certainly didn’t want to be carried. He didn’t want to do anything other than lay there on the stone floor until he could gather the strength and courage to move again.

The others stared at Cole. Undisturbed, he walked to where Josephine, Leliana, and Varric stood in the corner. Gently, he took Josephine’s hand, tugging her toward Everett.

“He needs you,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. Josephine looked to Cole, then to Everett, eyes wide. Cole tilted his head to one side, as if listening, then let go of her hand. “You should tell him. I think will help.”

Tell him? Tell him what? Whatever it was, Josephine understood immediately. Her eyes widened again and she glanced at Everett, uncertain.

Cole looked over his shoulder at the others, then left the room as silently as he entered. Josephine hesitated, as if keenly aware of all the eyes on her. She turned an uncertain, pleading look on Leliana, but it was Varric who crossed his arms and nodded toward the door.

“You heard the kid,” he said. “Let’s go.” He met Everett’s gaze. “If you need us, send Ruffles.”

Quietly, everyone filed out of the room, sending Everett sympathetic glances. Leliana squeezed Josephine’s arm as she passed by her. Before he left, Cullen murmured something in Josephine’s ear. She nodded once, sending him a grateful look, and he too left the room. Soon it was only the two of them.

Taking a shuddering breath, Josephine walked around to where Everett’s head rested against the ground. She lowered herself to the stone floor, sitting on her knees, and gently lifted his head to lie against her legs. With trembling fingers, she swept his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. Everett’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured. Suddenly, without everyone in the room, he felt tired and worn. The panic had faded. Now he was simply drained. Exhausted.

“I was afraid.” Her voice still held a trace of tears. Everett opened his eyes to look up at her. There were tear tracks on her face, but her eyes seemed dry now, though filled with worry.

“You should have left.”

She shook her head and leaned forward, lifting his head gently to kiss his forehead. “I will never leave you, Everett. Not when you need me. Not if I can help it.”

Everett closed his eyes again, a pang of guilt throbbing in his chest. He was the one who was supposed to be strong for her. The one who was supposed to protect her. The one who was supposed to shoulder all the burdens so she could live as worry-free as possible. All of that had shattered now.

“Josephine, I…I’m so sorry.”

Her fingers continued to comb lightly through his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Sorry? For what?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t put it into words. He was sorry for the whole Exalted Council. He was sorry for leaving her to deal with it all without helping her in the slightest, for worrying her, for scaring her, for avoiding her. He was sorry she had to witness him break down. He was sorry she had to witness him losing his arm. He was sorry she was married to a broken, disabled man. “I should have…I should have done more. I don’t know.”

“Stop talking like that,” she said. She placed her hand on his cheek, her cool fingers a relief on his fevered skin. “All that matters is that you are still here. You are not dying.”

“For the moment. There’s still the Exalted Council.”

“A trivial matter, after all you’ve been through.” She paused. Everett let the silence settle over them, sinking into it, losing himself to her gentle touch. Her fingers paused against his cheek. “Do…do you want me to retrieve your wedding band? From the…the ashes?” She seemed to almost choke on the words.

Everett grimaced and opened his eyes. “No. It…somewhere in the midst of battle, between the Anchor flaring up and dispelling magic, the ring was destroyed.” It had melted from his hand, dripping in molten metal drops as he raised his hand to try and release the pent-up magic before it killed him.

“…Oh.”

He craned his neck slightly to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for,” she murmured, shaking her head.

He searched her face, his eyebrows drawn. “But you spent so much time picking it out, just for me. You were so intent on keeping it a secret before the wedding. It meant a lot to you.”

And to me.

“Everett, it is just a ring. We can always get another one. There is not another one of you.”

“But—”

“You do not need a ring to know I am yours, Everett.” She leaned forward and kissed him again, this time on the lips. “Rings are replaceable. They get lost or bent. The diamonds fall out. They tarnish. They stop fitting. Ten or twenty years from now, you might have worn a different ring anyway. But we would still be together. Any ring, or lack thereof, would never change that. And I would much rather lose the ring than lose you.”

He stared up at her, a little amazed. What had he done to deserve such a woman? What had he done to gain her love, love that showed in her eyes and her face, in the little smile of her lips? Love for him, for all that was left of him, love that looked beyond his imperfections, both old and new.

And, Maker preserve him, he loved her back. Fiercely and loyally. After two years of marriage and the chaos of this Exalted Council, he still loved her as much as when he first proposed back in the Arbor Wilds. Perhaps even more so. Definitely more so.

“I love you, Josephine,” he whispered. “With all my heart.”

She smiled faintly. It was a refrain he added often when he told her that he loved her. I love you, with all my heart. It never failed to make her smile.

“I love you, too,” she said quietly. “Although…you may need to begin thinking about sharing a part of your heart soon, my love.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Sharing? With who?”

Her voice became a whisper. “Our child.”

It took three heartbeats for Everett to register what she said. His eyes widened, and his heart started to pound again. Was she saying…?

He stared up at her, scarcely daring to believe it. “Are you…?”

She nodded, her smile widening and her eyes filling with tears. He sat up, using his remaining hand to help him, and twisted to face her. A quick scan revealed nothing—no signs that she was telling the truth, aside from a slight pallor to her skin, which could still be left over from the trauma before.

“Truly?” he breathed.

“Truly.” Even with the tears, there was a hint of laughter in her eyes, a brightness he hadn’t seen since before they reached the Winter Palace. Joy. It was almost foreign to him, after all that had happened lately.

“You’re certain?” A smile began to spread across his lips, the first genuine smile in…Maker, days. All his melancholy started to lift off his shoulders. A child. His child. Their child. “You’re absolutely certain?”

Josephine let out a light laugh. “Yes, Everett. I made certain with healers before we left.” She paused, searching his face. He was frozen in place. “Are…are you happy?”

“Happy?” The shock abating, Everett cupped her face with his hand and pulled her into a kiss, letting her know exactly how he felt about the news. She made a surprised noise in the back of her throat. “Josephine, I—I couldn’t be happier. A child…”

“Our child,” she correctly softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek.

Everett captured her lips with his once more, and she melted into his embrace, awkward and one-sided as it was. She held him steady, compensating for his lack of balance. If the feel of his newly severed arm disturbed her, she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t show it in the way she held him or kissed him back. He wrapped his good arm tightly around her, holding her close even after their kiss ended.

He was to be a father. It was something he’d only vaguely dreamed of, a conversation he’d had with Josephine only occasionally since their wedding. One day, they’d often said. It had been their answer for so long. One day, when the world was a little calmer, when the Inquisition was not quite so busy, when there would be time to consider children and where they would live and what kind of world they would grow up in. One day.

But now that day was here. In a world that had never been so uncertain, though it was calm enough…for now.

If he was reeling from the news, he could only imagine how she felt. To have braved the Exalted Council in her condition—

“Maker’s breath,” he said, pulling away to look at her again, amazed. “The fright I must have given you. The hell I put you through. And you, with child. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?”

She gave a shrug of her shoulders that was, if anything, surprisingly mild given the circumstances. “Everything happened all at once. I had planned to tell you early on, during a slower evening, but there was never enough time. And to tell you in the midst of the Qunari plot—I couldn’t. I did not want to distract you.”

A sudden thought struck him. “I left you alone to fend for yourself,” he murmured, horrified. “With child.”

Josephine smiled wryly. “See? You would not have left my side, if I had told you. And this world still needed you to act.” Her smile faded. “You…you would have died, had you not gone to find Solas. I did worry, Everett. I wondered if perhaps this child would grow up without his father. But he is—you are here. You are safe. And I want never to part from you again.”

“Josephine…”

She took his hand and kissed it. “My love, the fate of the Inquisition and its future lies with you. It is enough knowing that you are alive, and no matter what happens, know that I will support you in anything. But if there is some way we can create a future where we can raise a family in peace and prosperity, together…”

“I swear it,” Everett said. He gripped her hand tightly, capturing her gaze with his so she would know how seriously he meant his oath. “I swear I’ll forge that future for you. For us. Even if it means disbanding this Inquisition, I swear that you will never have cause to worry for me or the safety of our family ever again. And Maker willing, I swear that we will never be apart again. Not if I can help it.”

She accepted his oaths with a small smile. “Those are weighty promises, Everett,” she murmured. “I do not know that you can keep all of them.”

“On my oath, I intend to try.” He took her wedding band and engagement ring between his thumb and first finger, rubbing his thumb over them. “It’s nothing short of what I swore to you when we married. I only want to see you happy, safe, and loved, Josephine. I may not have the ring anymore to remind myself of my vows, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop striving to keep them. I love you. And nothing in this world is going to change that.”

She smiled then, the brightest smile he’d seen in days, and hugged him close. “I love you, too.”

Soon he would have to face the Exalted Council. Soon he would have to give them an answer to the question they were all wondering—an answer that determined the future of the Inquisition. And one day, perhaps soon, perhaps years away, he would have to face Solas again, to clash against his old friend for the fate of the entire world.

He’d already sworn to stop him, if necessary. It was a decision he hadn’t made lightly. But now, with Josephine in his embrace, carrying the fluttering little life of their firstborn child, his resolve sharpened like steel tempered by flame. He would not let Solas destroy the world. He would not let his wife and child become collateral damage as the world burned away to be reshaped by Solas’s hand.

If that meant killing Solas to stop him…then so be it.

#spoilers in the tags #sorry haha I didn't want to give away the surprise at the ending #so I'm putting them here so they will still filter out #anyways #trespasser spoilers #cw: pregnancy #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #josephine montilyet #josephine x inquisitor #male trevelyan #josephine x trevelyan #my fic #my inquisitor #everett trevelyan #da fic #dai fic

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