#OC: Haleir Lavellan

[inquisitor-julia]

Absolutely breathtaking commission I got from @pauvre-lola of my OCs Wren Lavellan and Haleir!!!

I adore every inch of this piece it feels like it belongs in an art museum tbh, thank you so much for bringing this to life and for your endless patience with me!! ♥️♥️♥️

Wren is my Solas romance Inquisitor and Hal is a Sentinel of Mythal and Wren's alternate LI in two AUs I have for her!

[nadas-dirthalen]

look I try not to get too self-indulgent about OCs on this blog, especially not with my medium-res screenshots, but for the past few weeks i have been in love with Her™ ithalia haleir lavellan, woman that you are.

i had no idea that she looks like a certain inquisitor of old.

i cried real tears when i found out.

[aly-the-writer]

For the DA Drunk Writing Circle: Dragon Age Codex Entry- something about your OC written by the cook.

Thanks for the prompt! ^^ I answered this one with my Hal Lavellan.

Anote in the journal of Haven’s Cook. Entry seems to concern Inquisitor HaleirLavellan.

How does one man drink that muchcoffee? I didn’t expect a Dalish savage to even have a taste for the stuff buthe drinks even more of it than Lady Montilyet. One would think that with how energeticthe Herald is already that any more of the stuff would cause an explosion.

I’ll have to speak with LadyMontilyet about arranging a larger shipment of it. Between all these night-longthe War Table strategy meetings and the Herald and this Iron Bull added to themix too we’ve simply not got enough on hand for everyone.

Still, this is Ferelden. If we run out of their fancy Antivan drink there’sonly so much I can do.

[scharoux]

We are the last of the Elvhen...

[amralimesoti]

Musical insp.

I felt the need to sketch, so I did a few of my friends oc’s

@seablrd @befooled @sternenstaub28 @inquisitorialbusiness

[doriansbutt]

and gift for @inquisitorialbusiness ♥♥♥

[aly-the-writer]

Hey! Hey! Hey! @hoehoehoelt borrowed my characters for a ficlet and did a fantastic job!!!

Happiness Only Lasts So Long...

A fic inspired by @aly-the-writer ! Get ready y’all!!! I might have to split this up into a couple parts too, so if you enjoyed this, then I hope you wish to stick around for the rest!

~

Pairing: Adair Lavellan x Mahanon Lavellan

~

Haleir grinned as he entered the Dalish camp, waving to a few of those he knew as he made his way to the Keepers Aravel, where he knew his brother would most likely be, probably studying away at this time with Adair and Siona. The three of them were generally pretty quiet. At least, a lot quieter than he was, so he never really considered the possibility of one of them being missing as he made his way over. He peeked his head inside the curtain first, looking to see who was around currently before proceeding with his plan to announce himself. Loudly.

He only say his twin and little sister there, so he walked in, before yelling loudly.

‘’Yo, bro! Siona! Good to see you!’’

He grinned in glee as his siblings subsequently jumped at the sound of his voice, before Taralyn turned around slightly to glare at him, and Siona stood up, throwing herself at him as she giggled.

‘’Hal! Look Tara, Hal’s home!’’

Hal chuckled quietly, reaching down to stroke his sisters hair, whilst looking at Taralyn to start up a conversation.

‘’What, not excited to see me? You wound me, brother.’’Taralyn didn’t answer straight away. Instead he looked back down at his book, before muttering his reply.

‘’It’s…Nice to see you…’’

Haleir accepted that that was all he was going to get out of his brother, and he pried Siona off of him gently, before looking around. Even if it was already obvious who wasn’t here.

‘’Where’s Adair? We practically raised the kid ourselves. He could at least come say hi.’’

Hal thought it was odd that the teenager wasn’t with them. Despite the reprimanding he often got from Tara, who truly did care about him, just didn’t know how to show it, he barely left their sides. It had been like that since the first day the pale elf had been brought to camp, bloody and unconscious. The twins had been thirteen at the time, and Siona only six.

Taralyn snorted. Haleir didn’t understand why. It was like he was almost…Amused?

‘’I’m not surprised you didn’t see him. You know Mahanon? Dalia’s kid? They’ve been growing close for a while, Adair and Mahanon, that is. They-’’

‘’Addie’s got a booooyfriiiiiend~!’’

Siona cut in then, and it made sense. That did explain why he wasn’t with them. He recalled Adair and Mahanon becoming something akin to friends as children, but he never thought it would go any further than that. Now they were courting? That was a twist in the tale that Hal hadn’t been expecting. Still, he was happy that Adair had found somebody at last to love, and he smirked to himself. This was the perfect time to go seek out the young couple, and perhaps ‘’subtly’’ warn Mahanon that if he ever did anything to hurt Adair, he would rise him from the dead just to kick his ass himself.

Just as he left the aravel to go do that though, he saw the two of them pass. They were walking through camp, holding hands and talking. Mahanon must have said something funny, as Adair brought his hand up to his mouth to cover his laugh. Mahanon wouldn’t have that though, and stopped walking long enough to pull Adair’s hand away, before using his free hand to tuck a piece of the smaller elf’ hairs startlingly white hair behind his ear. He also leaned forward to press a kiss to the pale elf’s cheek, and Hal had to stop himself from bursting out laughing right then and there from the shade of red Adair turned. He did have to smile at how sappy it looked however. Adair seemed to be smiling a lot more than he ever did growing up, despite his best attempts to show that his past hadn’t affected him as much as it really did. And Hal was grateful to Mahanon for that. He just hoped Mahanon would never break the young elf’s heart. Which reminded him. He would definitely need to have a word with Mahanon regarding that. For now though, he was content to let the couple be, and watch from the sidelines…

~

First part done! Next up is how Taralyn feels, then Adair, then the really angsty stuff happens..Ohohoho.

[braham-is-bi]

Rules: Bold any fears which apply to your muse. Italicize what makes them uncomfortable. tagged by @nordickzz​ no Tumblr it’s fine I don’t want to post pictures or anything it’s fine

Haleir Tralinson the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Sariel Lavellan the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Sun Xiaoli the dark ⋆ fire ⋆ open water ⋆ deep water ⋆ being alone ⋆ crowded spaces ⋆ confined spaces ⋆ change ⋆ failure ⋆ war ⋆ loss of control ⋆ powerlessness ⋆ prison ⋆ blood ⋆ drowning ⋆ suffocation ⋆ public speaking ⋆ natural animals ⋆ the supernatural ⋆ heights ⋆ death ⋆ dying ⋆ intimacy ⋆ rejection ⋆ abandonment ⋆ loss ⋆ the unknown ⋆ the future ⋆ not being good enough ⋆ scary stories ⋆ speaking to new people ⋆ poverty ⋆ loud noises ⋆ being touched ⋆ forgetting ⋆ being forgotten

Tagging...anyone who wants to do this like just @ me so I can see it I can’t remember who’s done this yet so

[bnnuyboikase]

hey, guess who finally managed to draw out their ‘canon’ da timeline ocs ^o^;;

[inquisitor-julia]

     He huffed a laugh and suddenly Wren wanted nothing more than to hide in the furs draped at her shoulders, never to be seen again.

    “You were watching the celebrations weren’t you?”

    So he had seen her staring, wonderful.

    “It’s much more fun when you’re not just watching.” He continued.

    She glanced back to him, eyes wide, he wasn’t asking her to-

    “Dance with me?”

@mik-arts strikes again with this adorable piece inspired by a short snippet I wrote about Wren and Hal! (featuring @eluvii‘s Anni and @inquisitor-veowyn‘s Veowyn! <3) This is from the Vir Tanadahl AU I share with my friends which has been so fun to create and has helped me flesh out Wren and Haleir so much!

[faerieavalon]

   Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition    Rating: Explicit    Pairings: Solas/Elvhen OC, Felassan/Elvhen OC, Male Lavellan/Dorian, Others To Be Added

Ch 64: Ghi'myem

[Read it on AO3]

Abelas  lifted the practice sword and stepped forward into guard position. His arms burned and sweat trickled down his back as he pivoted and swung for the abdomen of his imaginary opponent, turning the blade at the last second to catch the invisible defending strike. He danced his way through form after form, charging forward and retreating back, feints and parries against weapons only he could see, until the peripheral sounds of the training yard faded away. His jumbled thoughts, however, wouldn’t be defeated so easily.

Mythal had returned at last.

It had been hours since she arrived and upset the relative peace of the temple grounds. Hours he had spent in the training yard, venting his frustrations. She was likely surrounded by people eagerly throwing themselves at her feet but he could feel her breathing down his neck as surely as if she stood by his side. 

They were out of time and options. The spy was in a cell deep underground. Unreachable for rescue or counsel. Researching on his own was a dead end. The library held only tales of Mythal’s grandeur, not of her fall or the days that followed. He had pushed Era’las away. Though it had been on purpose, and honorable, it still ate at him to cause her pain. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her tear filled eyes as she fled from his words. He had backed himself into a corner and the most dangerous being of all was close enough to strike at them all.

Spiraling in a loop of his darkest thoughts and fears, he barely noticed when a body stepped into his path. Overcorrecting his swing, he stumbled on his toes and smashed the sword into the stone floor hard enough to crack the blade in half. The intruder wasn’t harmed but the sword was beyond repair. Abelas cursed under his breath and threw the hilt to the ground in frustration.

“Ir abelas, ha’hren!” His visitor scrambled back and bowed deeply. 

It was Haleir. He held his bent posture of repentance, looking every bit like he was expecting punishment to rain down on him. Abelas sighed, a dismissal on the tip of his tongue when he noticed something else of importance. The youth wasn’t wearing the light gear for practice forms or the heavier armour for field work. His armour shone as brilliant as the high noon sun and the new leather straps creaked slightly when he shifted. This was the full dress armour of a Sentinel. 

“De da’rahn,” Abelas mumbled and stepped back. He clenched his fists at his sides and steeled his nerves. “Do you require something of me, panelan?”

The youth lifted his eyes first, confusion wrinkling the branches etched on his brow. When no admonishment followed, he rose to his full height and saluted Abelas, his fist pressed tightly against the golden plate covering his chest. 

“She is asking to see you, ha’hren.” Pride flooded Haleir’s aura as he squared his shoulders and grinned. “First Mother bid me to find you and bring you to her.”

The game had begun.

[Read the rest on AO3]

[aly-the-writer]

Lost Raven

Fandom: Dragon Age

Character: Haleir Lavellan

Description: (SFW) Just a quick scene of Hal’s days long before he came to be at the Conclave or with the Inquisition. I’m figuring that he’s probably 19-20 in this scene, so he’s not been away from his Clan for very long.

Very heavy on my personal Dalish HC’s. You can read it on Ao3 here.

“Didn’t your Ma tell you not to come here?” the fortune teller asked without looking up, he had an easy smile as he waited in the shade of his little awning for someone to pass by and take an interest in his cards.

“Ma said you was Dalish and going to steal children away to live in the woods forever,” she informed him, tugging at one of her corn yellow braids. “Grandpapa said that was silly – no real Dalish lives in the city like you do or is as silly – but he used a different word.”

His expression stilled for a moment, his hands pausing fractionally before he returned to shuffling the deck.

“I used to be Dalish,” he said at last, his hands beginning to move again.

The elf-child frowned at him – alienage brats were sharp, most had quick fingers and nearly all of them could spot a lie at twenty paces. She could tell that wasn’t the full truth and she was going to pout at him until he explained. Creators, children were all the same no matter where they grew up or what their kind was.

“I am Dalish, but I have been away from my home for a long time,” he corrected himself, grinning to the girl. Anna had shown up the first day he’d arrived in the market just outside the Ostwick alienage. “I won’t steal anyone to live in the woods, I promise.”

“How come Mama knew you was Dalish?”

“My vallaslin,” he smiled, touching his face where the lines of his tattoo crossed his cheek. “That’s what these mean.”

“Oooh,” she nodded sagely, “I’ve seen dwarves with vallah-vall….those.”

He chuckled, “Not exactly. Dwarves wear those to show that they don’t belong to Orzammar – their homeland – anymore, it’s not always their choice to have them. Dalish choose to have ours, part of our growing up. They represent our loyalty to our gods.”

“Like Andraste?”

“Sort of,” he grinned. “We call them the Creators.”

She frowned, “So, is what Mother Jacqueline says in the Chant wrong?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “That’s not how the religion stuff works…you’ll get it when you’re older, maybe.”

“…do you?”

“…not really,” he grinned. “Are you implying I’m old?”

“Yup.”

“Ach, she wounds me,” he placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Go on, your Ma really will wound me if she catches you here again. I’ve been warned not to fill your head with any more fanciful stories.”

He’d given an account of the Hero of Ferelden, there weren’t many elvish heroes who met with Andrastian approval. The Warden Surana was the only one he could think of who was also a mage – and given how Antivan the stories of Garahel were he wasn’t going to be the one repeating them where young ears could hear.

Still, strange Dalish wanderers who did card tricks and read fortunes in cards were not what respectable mothers wanted their children pestering for stories of life outside the alienage.

With her scampering off to play with the other youngsters he settled to watch and listen. There was little else he could do, and for the moment he was content to play the part he was presenting. Soon he’d change roles – mercenary, this time if he found a company amenable to protecting its mage.

Poor pay, he was an elf and most mercs knew that a Dalish elf away from their Clan was there because they’d gotten exiled, and he couldn’t correct that misunderstanding.

Turning his wrist he looked at the carved raven, the words of an ancient story, only half remembered whispering from his memory:

‘You are lost and soon you will fade,’ spoke Fear and twinned Deceit swore, ‘You have been abandoned. He loves you no longer.’ Falondin’s reflection bade them to be silent, speaking the words: ‘I am not lost, I am not abandoned.’ And so he bade them to carry him to where Dirthamen’s shadow lay.’

Keeper Deshanna had pressed the carved raven into his hand as she stood on tip toe to kiss his brow.

“A guide to return you to the people,” she had told him in the dark of the night when he slipped away as tradition demanded of his new role, his brother’s green eyes watching him in silence from behind her. “And a reminder that as you walk the lonelier paths you are never truly lost and nor are you abandoned by the People.”

He’d been glad for the darkness that lay around his departure, he couldn’t worry them with the few escaped tears that had run hot down his cheeks if they could not see them in the shadow of his hood.

The baker from down the street whose grandmother was Rivaini and who was fretting over his daughter’s upcoming nuptials was approaching – doubtless to consult with the cards. He never paid in coin but Hal wasn’t one to turn down the food that was brought in exchange instead.

Memories of his Clan and the reminder of his duty to them could wait until after he’d had breakfast.

[scharoux]

WIP Whenever!

Decided to do a portrait of my new Dalish boi....it WAS supposed to be a quick sketch, but my OCD brain was like NOPE!

**It is completely coincidental that he looks like Solas in this, evidently my brain is stuck on the egg**

[buttsonthebeach]

prompt: lucius and ashara form a loving healthy polyamorous relationship w/ laurence breadman. ellana and solas find out. GO

SO WHO IS READY FOR THIS

It’s only been 84 years since you sent this prompt but I wanted to finish Reckoning first! (Speaking of which, this has spoilers for Reckoning.)

Tagging @empresstress13 per your interest in Breadman!

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions

Pairing: Ashara Lavellan x Lucius Talvas x Laurence Marchand (OC x OC x OC)

Rating: EXPLICIT! The smut is short but it’s there, and it is a m x m x f threesome. You are warned.

*********

They met Laurence at the party where they themselves reconnected. His cakes were the dessert, and he had run late perfecting them all, so he was still there when they arrived. He was carefully arranging each one on a tiered display, his eyes narrow with focus. He was a big man - broad through the shoulders and soft in the belly - and he very nearly intimidated both of them when they first saw him. Then he saw them sidling up to the table, and his face broadened into a wide grin.

“Ah, pardon my intrusion. I am Laurence Marchand, the baker of these fine goods. I am simply making sure that everything is exactly as it should be. May I tempt you with something, monsieur…?”

“Talvas,” Lucius said.

“Well met, Monsieur Talvas. And this beautiful lady is…?”

“Ashara Lavellan,” she said. She flushed to hear herself called beautiful. Months of war had not left her much time to think of such things.

“Lavellan - I believe your esteemed mother is the reason I am here, mademoiselle. Unless of course it is madame?” From another man the comment might have been leering, but from Laurence it just seemed curious. Warm.

“It’s mademoiselle,” Ashara said, even as her hand drifted to Lucius’s. They’d kissed on the balcony and it had been a kiss full of meaning after two years apart, but they hadn’t tested the depth of that meaning yet. She wanted to leave the party and twine herself around him and never let go.

“Well, you must thank your mother for me again. And if you like the cakes and you want some more, you must stop by my new bakery. We open next week. I think if I have such a handsome man and such a lovely woman present, I’ll be sure to draw customers.”

Again, it was a comment that might have put Ashara back on her heels if it had come from someone else. But from Laurence it just seemed - sweet. She glanced at Lucius and saw that he had that pleased, embarrassed look he always got when someone praised him, and she wanted to kiss him at once, right there, her Lucius and his sweetness. She was pleased that someone else saw what she saw, even if it was a stranger.

“We’ll stop by,” she said, because the night was full of promise, and she was alive, and she was happy, and so was Lucius, and so was Laurence.

*

Laurence’s new bakery was quite close to the central market square, a prime location that Ashara did not doubt Mamae had helped him secure. Despite his claim that he would need a handsome man and a lovely lady to help draw in business, there was already a modest crowd. There was a selection of fresh rolls and baguettes, and some sweeter additions more similar to what he’d served at the party. He recognized them at once as they walked in, hand in hand.

“Monsieur Talvas! Mademoiselle Lavellan! I am pleased to see you. Come, sit. You must try this coffee I have just brewed and give me your honest opinion. I ground the beans myself this morning. I fear that I ground them too fine and that some made it through the press and into the coffee itself.”

Ashara and Lucius sat, held hands on top of the table, because they did that now, three weeks into this new beginning. This new version of themselves that was an us. Lucius rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand and smiled whenever she glanced his way. The coffee was good, but Laurence was right - he’d ground it too fine, and there was a siltiness to the brew, like river water. He tsked and took the small porcelain cups back.

“I shall try again, if you have the time. And you must try this chocolate croissant with the next batch.”

“We have time,” Lucius said. It was true. They had nowhere else they needed to be. There was a looseness in Ashara’s spine she had not felt in months, and it was the looseness of time.

The crowd had thinned by the time the next batch was ready, and Laurence sat with them as they enjoyed it. This one was perfect. Rich and hot and chocolatey, just like the croissant.

“You will have to tell your mother to come here,” Lucius said. “She would love this.”

“It was her suggestion, in fact,” Laurence said. “She is a very good woman, your mother.”

“She is,” Ashara said, full of pride.

“And she raised a good woman,” Lucius said. He was more bold now than before, at least with such expressions of affection. He seemed to sense how much she needed them after everything that happened.

Laurence looked between them, warmth in his hazel eyes. “We should go out, the three of us. One cannot help but to want to bask in such happiness. And I am still new in this city. What do you say?”

“Of course,” Ashara said, because she was happy, and life was full of promise and sweetness (and she wanted more chocolate croissants).

*

It was after the third time they went out with Laurence - not counting the times they stopped by his bakery, which was fast becoming a favorite among many residents of Enasan - that they first began to realize that he was interested in them. In both of them.

They’d gone out to a pub this time, and they’d drunk expensive Fereldan whiskey, which Laurence promptly declared inferior to Orlesian brandy, but it still made him giddy enough to drape one arm around each of them at different points in the night. To get a high red color on his ruddy face when Ashara leaned in and planted a kiss firmly on Lucius’s neck. They were all a little drunk.

“You are both so lovely,” Laurence had murmured then. Their legs were close to his under the table. “I cannot help but wonder if -”

“If?” Lucius asked.

Laurence looked away suddenly, waved his hand. “It is nothing.”

But Ashara knew it was something. She knew it because she’d started to feel it too, when they were with Laurence. They fit with him in a way they did not fit with other friends, like Haleir. So she decided to be bold when she and Lucius went home, still tipsy. It was a new life. A time to take chances.

“Do you think Laurence intended to ask us to bed tonight?” she asked when they were home. Lucius was already down to his smalls, getting ready to collapse into bed. He paused.

“You caught that as well?” he asked, turning to her. “I thought - well, I assumed it was just the whiskey addling my brain. But it did cross my mind that he might mean that.”

Ashara pictured it in flashes. Her own brain was still addled with whiskey but they were there. They had not known Laurence for long but he was so warm, so confident, so at ease - so different from herself and from Lucius, with their fears and anxieties and constantly moving minds. And he was handsome, and wouldn’t it be an indulgence to have both of them on her, their lips, their hands, their legs -

“And what did you think?” Ashara asked, mouth dry. “Or - what would you think, if he asked some other time, and I said yes?”

Lucius rubbed the back of his neck, cast his eyes down. There was a tenting beginning in his smalls, a rising, a filling.

“Well - I did notice other boys sometimes. In the Circle. But you know me. I was never crazy after sex. I noticed the girls too. But after those first couple of times, realizing I didn’t enjoy it if it didn’t mean anything - and with Tevinter being less open about men loving other men - I  never pursued it. But he is very handsome, and I do -”

Ashara was already in front of him, pushing back on his shoulders so he sat on the bed, kneeling between his legs, taking him in her hand. He gasped, grew to full hardness in her grasp.

“But you might like it?” she asked. “You might like him? If he did this to you instead of me?”

Lucius swore in Tevene. She pumped him, probably a little too quick, a little too rough, but she could feel him pulsing.

“Or would you want to touch him?” she asked. “Do you think he would feel good in your hand?”

Lucius only groaned, gripped the sheets tighter, flexed his hips up and into her touch. She tugged, tugged, kept everything quick and tight, and he came, loud and moaning with every burst of it, his spend hot on her hand. She licked him clean at the very end and he pulled her up, held her close.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so. I would never want anything to change that.”

“I agree,” she said.

He paused. Then: “But - I wouldn’t mind seeing where it goes. With Laurence. I’m not ready for anything drastic yet. I want to know him better, first.”

“Of course. And I love you, vhenan. So very much.”

Lucius smiled, and he kissed her, and they went to bed.

*

Laurence had been serious, it turned out. He made the delicate overture again, a couple of weeks later, sober this time, while they were all relaxing in one of the parks after taking in a show at the theatre.

“I truly enjoy the time I spend with both of you. I do wonder if - you consider our time together as special as I do,” he said.

For all his bravado and confidence, there was some nervous in him in that moment. Ashara reached out and touched his knee.

“I - I think we do.” She glanced to Lucius, caught his quick nod. “Both of us. I think - I think we’d like to continue seeing each other. To get to know each other even better, maybe. If you would like that.”

Laurence beamed, bright as the coffee press he polished every morning in his bakery.

“Good,” he said.

Something in the air shifted for the rest of the afternoon. The teasing was more romantic. Hands brushed more often than they should have. Ashara kept studying Lucius, anxious for his reactions, and saw that he felt the same giddiness they did. As they prepared to part ways that evening, Laurence took both of their hands and kissed the back of them. He did not do it with a flourish or a simpering air like the Orlesian courtiers Ashara had known. Instead he did it with genuine tenderness. Genuine eagerness.

“I must admit, coming to a new city and managing to find myself falling in love with a couple instead of one person may be the most Orlesian thing I have ever done,” he said. “But for once, I think I am happy to live up to the image everyone has of my country.”

Falling in love.

Ashara and Lucius turned those words over that night, in bed. Falling in love. They made love, and they both imagined him there with them, both came panting and shivering with the force of their pleasure.

This was not what Ashara had imagined at all a year ago, fresh from the horror of Clermont. It was not something she had ever really imagined. It was a little overwhelming at times. She had a million questions about how it would work, what it would mean, what people would think (though she cared about that least of all). But if she had learned one thing in her experiences, it was that she had to take happiness wherever she could find it. And she was happy when Laurence and Lucius were smiling, holding hands with one another. She was happy when she and Lucius woke warm and sleepy and burrowed into their covers to keep sleeping just a little longer. She was happy working at the university.

She was happy, and she wasn’t going to let that feeling go for anything.

**

They waited until Lucius felt comfortable before they went any further than kissing, cuddling, wandering hands. It was worth the waiting. Ashara would never forget the sight of the two of them, naked, marveling at each other’s bodies, so similar and so different. She would never forget the way Lucius asked if Laurence would show him what pleased him, the way Laurence guided Lucius’s hand to his cock (shorter, thicker than Lucius’s own, Ashara wanted to touch it too) and showed him the rhythm he liked best. She would never forget curling up behind Lucius, pressing him between Laurence’s body and her own. She would never forget when Laurence oiled his hand and wrapped it around his cock and around Lucius’s and stroked them both together, how both of them gasped and groaned, how their kisses got more and more sloppy. She would not forget the sound of Laurence’s hand working them both faster and faster, the slick tap tap of it, the way they writhed against each other. She kissed and kissed Lucius’s shoulder, ran her hand along Laurence’s face, told Laurence to keep going, said she wanted to see them come like this.

She would never forget the way they both shuddered and groaned and rutted into each other as they came, the glorious mess they made of each other. The way they rested their foreheads against each other and just studied one another afterwards.

“Je t’aime,” Laurence said, soft, the words only for Lucius this time. They did not spark any jealousy in Ashara, though. Only joy.

“I love you,” Lucius said.

Ashara grinned. She cuddled them close. Her two men.

“I do think, though,” Laurence said. “That we are being very rude right now. Our poor beautiful Ashara has been so patient while we learn each other’s bodies. Won’t you show me what she likes best, amour?”

Lucius smiled, rolled over, kissed Ashara hard on the mouth. He sat back against the headboard and held Ashara between her legs and he told Laurence how to use his mouth to drive her wild, how to lick slow and careful all around her aching clit until she couldn’t take it any longer, until she begged him to suck on it. How to fuck her roughly with his fingers while he sucked her there, until she came, and she did come, she came so hard she keened and left marks all over Laurence’s shoulders, so that his square jaw was covered in her slick when he sat up.

“Perfect,” Laurence said, grinning. “You are both perfect.”

“So are you,” Lucius said. They were both right.

***

It was not always easy, for all that it was perfect. There were language barriers - Laurence struggling to communicate in Trade all the time, wishing bitterly that one of them spoke Orlesian, finding Lucius’s Tevene accent confusing. Laurence’s (admittedly casual) Andrastianism occasionally giving him pause, too. Lucius sometimes wanted time just to himself, and that could be difficult for Ashara and Laurence alike. There was the matter of where to spend each night, how to balance the needs of their various jobs.

And, finally, there was the matter of what to tell family.

Ashara’s parents had gone to live with Clan Lavellan, and they had not been back since. They knew she and Lucius were together, of course, and she had mentioned Laurence several times. Mamae was the one who brought him to Enasan, after all. She was pleased to hear updates on his business, and to hear that he had become part of Ashara’s life. But she hesitated to tell them the true extent of things. Neither of them were terribly judgmental people, of course - but still. Ashara did not know any other lovers quite like her and her men.

But they were going to visit them for a midsummer festival, and so soon there would be nothing to do but to tell them.

Ashara stalled and stalled - what if Papae was just as displeased with Laurence as he had been with Lucius at first? What if the more traditional elders of Clan Lavellan disapproved? - but finally her mother asked if Lucius was coming with her one night while they visited in the Fade.

“Lucius is coming. And Laurence too.”

“Oh? I am surprised he can take time away from the bakery.”

“Well, it’s important for him to come.”

Mamae arched one eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because we’re lovers,” she said. “The three of us. We’re in love.”

Mamae’s other eyebrow went up to join the first. She studied Ashara for a moment. Then she burst into laughter.

“Oh, da’vhenan. You went out and got yourself a Tevene first, and then you got yourself an Orlesian, too? What’s next? A qunari?”

Ashara’s anger was flame-hot.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Who cares if they’re both human, or where they’re from - they’re good men and I love them! Laurence is so good at living in the moment, at reassuring Lucius and I, and - Lucius has always been there for me - and we’re very happy, and if you can’t accept that, then -”

“Ashara, Ashara. Atisha. Listen to me. I don’t care at all that they are human. Your father and I both remarked recently that you seem so happy now. I’m just laughing because I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I tell him.”

“He’d better not be mad. Or treat Laurence the way he treated Lucius.”

“Don’t worry. I can’t promise he won’t grill Laurence at least a little. But he’s taken up smoking elfroot now when he gets stressed, you know. I’ll just make sure he has plenty.” Mamae cupped Ashara’s cheek with her right hand. “And I will make sure there is enough room in your aravel for all three of you. I am so happy, da’vhenan. All I want is for you to be happy, too.”

And they were happy.

No one in Clan Lavellan raised an eyebrow at the three of them. Papae narrowed his eyes at Laurence now and then, asked probing questions about his family and his beliefs about alienages and his feelings about the Chantry and about mages. He smoked some elfroot. And then one evening when he was alone with Ashara by a dying campfire he smiled his gentle, quiet smile and said.

“I am happy for you, da’vhenan. And I think you make both of them very happy, too. Hold on to that as long as you can.”

Ashara smiled the same smile back.

“I will.”

And she did.

[doriansbutt]

@inquisitorialbusiness and I have been shipping Haleir and Flynn for a little over a year now so here’s the kiddos going on an anniversary date ♥

[thevikingwoman]

OC negative traits

Tagged by @scharoux thank you!

tagging @bearly-tolerable (Makon maybe), @buttsonthebeach (Haleir and/or Claudia, please), @idrelle-miocovani (maaaybe someone from your game?), @ solverne (anyone from your novel?) @empresstress13 

I have done a this a while ago, so you can find  You can find Iwyn & Branwen Lavellan here, Enara and (young) Solas here, and Mira Lavellan here.

Bold is always, italics is situational

Ragnhild Cadash

aggressive | arrogant | authoritarian | bitter | brutal | callous | cannibal | careless | cold/cold-hearted | compulsive | controlling | corrects others constantly | cowardly | critical | cruel | delusional | demanding | disillusioned | domineering | envious | emotionally stunted | greedy | grim | guarded | hard | harsh | hypocritical | impatient | impolite | intimidating | irritable | kidnapper | lazy | liar | lustful | materialistic | mean | merciless | messianic | mistrusting | murderer | narrow-minded | obsessive | opinionated | over-bearing | over-critical | over-emotional | over-thinking | patronizing | proud | remote | repressed | rigid | rules with an iron fist | ruthless | sarcastic | self-righteous | self-indulgent | serial killer | taciturn | torturer | touchy | traitorous | unsympathetic | unpredictable | uptight | vain | vengeful