#The Wyvern's Bride

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.7 (NSFW)

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

6800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

All the smutty content warnings. There is penetrative sex. There is oral. There are handjobs. There is overstimulation and a little bit of edging. There's a heap of profanity and a bunch of fluff too.

I'll include content breaks if you don't want to see the explicit stuff, but the whole thing will be suggestive. This chapter IS about Adalyn seducing Slate. But it's also a confession chapter, so there's wholesome stuff for the non smut readers too.

Slate is steadily growing closer to his wit’s end. 

It had started with the nightgowns. The first had been a pale spring green colour. Modest in cut. Daring in meaning. The colour that wyverns tend to flush around their mates. Signifying trust. Fondness. Love. He’d never expected anyone to do that around him.  

But Adalyn can’t possibly know that. 

She’s been wearing them every night whilst lying beside him.  

Things had escalated during yesterday’s beach date. (Outing. Trip. Whatever.) He should have said something. She’d asked him what to wear, and he hadn’t said anything about the colour. It had to be his fault, really. If he’d said something, perhaps she wouldn’t have worn that sky blue delight. Had the audacity to wear such a shade in public. Blue, the colour of attraction, desire, lust.  

He wants to strangle the cousin who’d gifted it to her. Or thank them. He’s not sure yet, there are too many feelings he needs to sort out. Mostly because females only flush blue when they’re open to advances.  

Another thing Adalyn couldn’t possibly have known. Especially with that genuine smile, and that sweet look of focus whenever he’d chatter about something most people found boring. It wasn’t wanton behaviour. Even if wearing the colour beside him in public had made his brain stall several times. 

He’d barely been able to look at her. Had spoken about every fun fact under the sun to stop from spilling his guts or disgracing himself. Because there’s no way Adalyn had meant anything by the dress.  

She’d married him to save him from embarrassment. To try something new, away from the mundanity of life in Fleecehold. Not because she was attracted to him. Not because she wanted him.  

He’d decided it must be Rin, playing a trick on him. Especially as things intensified. Starting with that letter. That parcel. The only thing Adalyn had said about it was that Rin had sent her a book.  

So, he’d deduced that this is Rin’s doing: Adalyn wearing more and more of those colours. A green tunic here. A blue shawl there. The nightgowns fray at his sanity the most, gradually getting shorter or more elaborate. 

He doesn’t sleep well. Lies perfectly still in the bed next to Adalyn, entertaining thoughts that are downright obscene. Frustratingly aroused, most mornings he has to excuse himself before she wakes, to find a private spot in which he can relieve himself. He tries not to think about her when he does. Tries and fails.  

The touches are equally tantalising in their torment. She’d started small. Innocent brushes here and there. A hand on his elbow. A bump against his shoulder. Adalyn reaching up to straighten his collar, or brush hair out of his face. Always with a smile. Gentle grazes that drive him mad. 

Lunch breaks are fraught with tension. Since he’d helped her with the garden, Adalyn has incorporated handfeeding Slate into her repertoire. Offering bites of her own pastries or catching him when his hands are otherwise occupied. Today Slate emerges from her wing, filthy, to find her holding his lunch. 

“Open,” she demands. 

He does so without hesitation. Is scarce able to breathe at her proximity, at her intense stare. He feels his cheeks flush grey-green, but is unable to look away, unable to hide any of the awe or desire from his face.  

She uses her thumb to brush some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, and he damn near melts. She smirks at his reaction, and that’s when he begins to suspect that she’s complicit in the attempts on his control.  

It has to be intentional, at the point. It has to be. The colours, the touches, the ancestors damned pheromones. She’s wearing them again, he notices, not for the first time.  

It had gotten so much worse when she’d unearthed the perfume. Rin’s gift, he begrudgingly remembers. The explosion of scents and pheromones that had given him a headache when first revealed. Now skilfully applied, just faintly enough that at first he thought they might have been his imagination.  

Scents that beckoned him closer. That bade him lean forward when she walked past, or that made him hyperaware of where she was in the room. Ones that whispered hello and tried to put him at ease. Others that got under his skin with how daringly inviting they were, almost begging him to reach out and touch Adalyn.  

Today she’s wearing one of the latter. Along with a teal dress – unseasonably short. He’d be concerned for her wellbeing if he weren’t so busy sneaking glances at her woollen leggings. Or the way the dress clings to her chest. And her ass.  

Ancestors, is he really ogling her so openly? He has to shake his head clear before recentring. She has him in such a daze, that he hadn’t processed any of their conversation. Had he even said anything? Had she? He’s searching his memory when Adalyn turns away and bends to pick up the picnic basket.  

He watches the dress creep up the back of her legs, completely rapt again.  

A strained sound escapes his throat, breaking the spell and startling him out of his trance.  

She’s packing up and he has no recollection of eating. He really did sit through the visit, mute and staring. He curses himself. He’s becoming a pervert and a lecher.  

“I’ll see you at dinner,” she smiles at him, and it hurts.  

He watches her leave before looking down and realising with shame that he’s hard again. It’s probably a contributing factor to his dizziness.  

The only thing that holds him back is perhaps she doesn’t realise just how strong of an effect these things are having. If she’s trying to make him want to jump her, to pin her to the bed and fuck her for hours on end, then mission accomplished.  

But if she’s just trying to court him, to encourage him closer, to tell him it’s okay to feel things, to care about her more than they’d discussed...  

He doesn’t know. He just doesn’t know what to make of the advances.  

It comes to a head when Slate returns from work that night. Adalyn has made dinner again and is dressed in the same teal dress she’d worn at lunch, though she’s stripped out of her shoes and leggings. Her scent wraps around him – inviting and lovely – and he sits and readies himself for another painstaking meal.  

He glances up when she asks about his day, and nearly drops his fork. She’s wearing makeup. Which by itself isn’t a big deal. She’d spent the past few days experimenting and trying on different cosmetics. But tonight her lips are painted a washed out blue and there’s a pale eyeshadow to match.  

It’s ridiculous, but the colour goes right to his hemi. He stares back down at his food, a bit shellshocked, completely spacing on the question she’d asked him.  

“Sorry, I missed what you said?” 

“I said, what did you get up to today?” 

“Oh, uh, the usual. I spent some time in your wing working on the second floor. Then...” he looks again. Can’t stop himself from glancing back up at her too innocent expression, her carefully composed interest and smile.  

He loses track of his words again. “You know, just the usual.” 

Adalyn regales Slate with details of her day while he forces himself to eat. He barely tastes the food. Barely hears what she’s saying. He’s not sure if he’s more in a hurry to finish and leave the table or dreading what comes next.  

Adalyn finishes before he does, and watches him eat with a stare that’s almost predatory. For a moment Slate forgets himself. Forgets his size and his magic and his near immortality. He feels like her prey. A thrill goes through him at the thought. He squashes it down immediately. 

“I think I’ll go do some more work before bed,” Slate mutters, standing once he finishes. 

“Slate.” 

He halts at his name.  

“Please sit back down.” 

He does, face flushing; worried that he appears too eager.  

Adalyn stands and approaches him. All his nerves strain when she stops behind him and rests her hands on his shoulders. He feels like he could jump out of his skin. 

“You should take a break. Are you really going to work through the night?” 

Mute, he shakes his head, mesmerised by her tone. Her words are masked with faux sympathy.  

“Good,” she murmurs, before kneading his shoulders.  

Slate’s face turns greener when a whine escapes his throat. He covers his mouth and coughs, hoping to disguise the slip.  

Adalyn huffs her amusement before digging her fingers in, unknotting his shoulders and working her way down his back. He feels like putty beneath her touch, mouth slightly agape, entire self-control devoted to keeping any more embarrassing noises to himself.  

When she stops he could almost cry, but instead things intensify when Adalyn rounds the chair and takes a seat on his lap. 

He stares at her, eyes too wide. 

“Is this okay?” For a moment she seems hesitant. Doubt creeping into her expression. 

He nods, almost frantic in the movement. “Mhm.” 

She sags in relief before looping her arms around his neck. It puts her face a little too close to his, and he swallows; the only movement he’ll allow. 

She crinkles her nose. “Your clothes are wet.” 

He waits, desperate to see what she does next.  

“Would you... like help taking them off?” 

He goes stiff at her words. In every sense of the word. Thankfully she ignores his erections, using her finger to trace a pattern on his chest instead.  

He’s clenching his jaw so tightly that it hurts. His hands dig into the armrests. He’s worried his claws will materialise and splinter the wood. He has to reply, he remembers, or he won’t get to see what happens next. 

“If you want.”  

She raises her brows. “I’m not asking what I want, I’m asking what you want.” 

By the fucking Ancestors. 

Unbidden, his hands go to her, trembling as he cradles her jaw. The other drifts into her hair. He gets even harder when she relaxes into his touch, turning pliant under his grip. He tries not to sound so choked, so raspy, but he can’t hide his desperation when he replies. “I want to kiss you.” 

She lifts her chin in silent permission, eyelids drooping and jaw going slack. But it’s not enough for Slate. He presses his forehead against hers. “Please, I need to hear you ask.” 

He’s breathless when she shifts, bringing her leg around so that she’s straddling him. He can feel much more of her now. Seated like this, it’d be impossible for Adalyn to miss the bulge in his pants. Shame darkens his cheeks.  

Then she grinds her hips against his.  

The movement is so minute, he’s not sure if he imagined it.  

Her hands tighten around his neck. She brings her lips to his ear. Speaks so clearly, there’d be no mistaking her words. “Kiss me, Slate.” 

Every doubt, hang-up, and hesitation empties from his mind. His shame slips away and it’s almost blissful the way he’s able to turn, touching his lips to hers without overanalysing his actions. 

He realises he’s holding his breath. Pulls back to let it out in a whoosh, before leaning in and kissing her again. He’s too occupied with her touch to fret about the gall of his actions, and he’s moves instinctively, trailing soft kisses along her jaw and neck. He wants to commit every sound she makes to memory; every hitch of her breath, every pant and subdued gasp. He wants to worship every inch of skin he can reach; enjoy every shiver and sound he can wring from her. 

Adalyn is the next to pause for air. Slate doesn’t let up though – having been given permission to kiss his wife, he intends to make the most of the experience. He lavishes kisses down her throat, across her shoulder, savouring her warmth. He lets his teeth scrape against her skin and nearly trembles with excitement when she flinches, before tilting her head back to give him better access. 

“What else do you want?” She murmurs. 

“You.” 

She huffs a laugh. “I’m tired of guessing. Elaborate.” 

He makes himself pull away. Feasts his eyes on her. Her lipstick has smeared. The colour might drive him insane if he looks any longer. 

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying to organise his thoughts. He doesn’t get the chance. Adalyn picks up where he’d left off, leaning in to suck a line of kisses down his throat. He lets out a shaky breath and his grip on her tightens. 

Adalyn pauses. “Is this still okay?” 

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please, don’t stop.” 

Emboldened by his plea, Adalyn grinds against him – there's no way he’s imagining it this time - her kisses becoming fiercer, their embrace more passionate. She nearly growls when her access is blocked by his collar. “I want to see more of you.” 

--- NSFW Content Ahead ---

Slate doesn’t check himself, removing his shirt faster than he’d done before. Pieces finally click in his brain, and the next step of the evening presents itself to him. He stands, hands going under Adalyn’s ass, and carrying her to the bed. She isn’t fazed by the relocation, doesn’t even stop rubbing against him. She just wraps her legs around his waist before dragging his lips to hers again.  

He kicks off his boots on the way there. Starts unlacing his pants. They make it to the bed and he sits, letting Adalyn straddle him and push him against the mattress.  

“Much better,” she says before trailing her lips down his chest. She takes her time, and Slate practically melts at the attention. Wonders if Adalyn had been as eager to get her hands on him as he’d been her. Probably, he notes as she kisses and sucks nearly every inch of him. She’s exploratory in her path. Her cheek grazes his ribs when she kisses the indent of his scar. She runs her hand along his side, over the ridges and valleys of his muscles. When she turns her attention to one of his nipples he jolts. 

He’s so focused on her mouth that he nearly misses her hand creeping down past his waistband. He lets out a shuddering breath when she rubs against his erections. His thoughts fizzle out when she fists her hand around one of his cocks and pumps it.  

“Is this alright?” She murmurs against him. 

He drags his pants down in answer, giving her better access. She squeezes and Slate can’t help but moan. It takes everything he has to not buck into her hand. 

Adalyn doesn’t bother restraining herself, grinding against Slate’s thigh. When she stops mouthing at his chest he grasps her by the hair again, prompting her upwards to his face. She doesn’t need further instruction, and goes back to kissing him, mindless and messy.   

Slate is close to coming. All she’s done is rub his cock and sit on his lap, and he’s nearly finished. He’s not sure if he should be embarrassed or elated. Is still caught up in surprise at the turn the night had taken. 

Adalyn pulls back to catch her breath. She looks almost smug, watching him writhe and twitch under her touch. She brushes his hair back before placing her free hand on his cheek. “You look good like this.” 

It takes a monumental effort to pull her into focus. He’s so hazy with need and so close to coming that tears prick his eyes. Adalyn is a blur of colour. The smear of her makeup, the marks blossoming on her throat, the flush in her cheeks – it's intoxicating. Another sound escapes him. 

Her face softens at the noise. “You okay?” 

“Adalyn...” He’s breathless. It’s an effort to speak. “If you keep- I want- I'm-” 

“Use your words, dearest,” she leans down in a slow, deliberate movement. Presses her lips to the skin beneath his jaw. Then sucks.  

He can’t use his words. Instead, he sees white as pleasure shoots through him, intense and unrelenting. His hips leave the bed. His breath catches in his throat. His eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t notice Adalyn’s praise as he comes – quite possibly harder than he’d ever done in his life. 

Awareness drifts back to him as he comes down from his high. It doesn’t take long for him to reorient himself, but when he does the room is spinning. His brain feels like mush. Adalyn is still straddling his thigh, her hand splayed against his chest for balance. He wonders if she can feel how hard his heart is beating. She still grips one of his cocks, looking at the mess he’d made with an unreadable expression.  

His tongue feels like lead, and he tries to string the right words together. “I’m sorry, I...” 

He cuts off when she gives his spent cock an experimental squeeze. His hips jerk and he wheezes.  

She huffs and smiles, watching him as she raises her hand to her mouth and licks her fingers clean. 

His untouched cock throbs. What few thoughts had formed in his head quickly disperse. 

“Why are you sorry? It’s not like I did this on accident,” she chides. 

Fuck, he wants more. He needs it. But Adalyn is still dressed. Still composed, looking down at him with a bright-eyed expression he’s entirely unfamiliar with. Five centuries worth of matriarchal and societal conditioning are the final tethers keeping him from responding. From grabbing Adalyn ravaging her. Playing out every dirty little thought he’s had, every fantasy, every impulse.  

He has to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s wanted before he can act. That he’s wanted.  

“Do you-” he starts, looking up with searching eyes, “Do you feel like this too?” 

She relaxes on top of him. Her lips twist into a wry smile. “Well, I didn’t come.” 

Need unfurls inside of him, sudden and desperate. To see Adalyn come undone the way he had. To make her gasp and moan and beg for him. To make her feel the way he constantly does around her; needy, depraved, dying for her to take the initiative.  

Before he knows it, he’s swapping places with her. Kissing down the length of her body. Slipping off the bed to kneel on the floor. Murmured pleas stream from him, too fast for him to process each one, “-let me help, let me make it better-” he grips her by the knees and pulls her towards him. “Please, fucking please, I want you so badly, I need to taste you, need to touch-” He parts her thighs. Wetness strings between them. She’s not wearing underwear. The observation knocks the breath from him. 

He kisses her inner thigh. His unspent cock aches, painfully stiff. He grinds against the end of the bed, yearning for friction. “Ask me to touch you. Give me permission. Fuck, Adalyn, tell me what I need to do to make you want me.” 

A hand closes around one of his horns, tugging. His whole scalp lights with pleasure at the sensation, and he shivers, staring up at Adalyn. Having her exert control over him like this is intoxicating. 

Despite her actions, she doesn’t look like she’s in control. Her hair is mussed, her face pink, and she bites down on her lip viciously. Still, she tightens her grip on him. 

“I already want you. I’ve wanted you for weeks. So stop teasing and just-” she cuts off. She lets out a groan, “Gods, are you really going to make me say it?” She pulls her dress up and stares pleadingly. “Use your mouth.” 

Her words are the final fraying on his restraint. Lust rolls in and he pulls her to the edge of the bed. Too eager to temper his actions, he thrusts his face between her folds, tonguing up and down and before he finds her clit and sucks. 

He should have stroked her first. Fondled her breasts or used his fingers. But there’s no room in him for sympathy and he continues his rough treatment, enthralled by the way she squirms beneath him. Her legs shake and jerk, and a stream of high-pitched noises escape her throat. He holds her steadfast, draping her knees over his shoulders and nuzzling closer. 

“-slower, please-” he hears despite the clenching of her thighs around his ears. 

Part of him flickers with remorse. He’d attacked her without any preamble or warmup, lapping up her juices like a wyvern starved. The rest of him is unmoved. Thrilled to hear Adalyn beg. Delighted at being told what to do. And merciless. Having waited long enough for Adalyn to give him an order, he intends to follow this one to the letter, even if she grows to regret the request.  

“You want me to slow down?” He hums as his imagination runs free. She’d been teasing him all day. Two could play that game. 

She whimpers and nods her assent.  

He moves back, giving her some space and lathering kisses on her thighs once more. Despite his sadistic intent, he nearly loses himself worshiping her legs. He sucks and nips at the soft flesh of her inner thighs, watching marks bloom and darken with unshakable focus.  

She goes limp with the treatment. Her moans drop in pitch, her breathing evens out. They both relax, drawn into a new rhythm; less manic, less starved. Softer; more intimate. Her spasms grow further apart, and she seems content to lie there under him. Until she’s not.  

There’s a gentle tug on his horn, and he blinks up at her. She looks wrecked. Her eyes are watery, and her makeup is smudged. He wonders if he’s taking things too far. 

“Please, Slate. Not there.” 

He holds fast to his plan, trusting Adalyn to tell him to stop if it gets too much. He kisses her other thigh. “Here then?” 

She shakes her head. 

He holds back a smirk. Kisses her knee. “Here?” 

Adalyn lets out a whine. Bucks her hips. “Stop teasing.” 

“You told me to slow down.” He nips at her skin before dragging his nose upwards, perfectly content to draw things out. “Unless you want me to go fast again?” 

She doesn’t say anything. Drops her head and lets out a frustrated whine. 

“Tell me where, Adalyn.” He doesn’t hide his smile this time. 

“You know where.” She sounds petulant.  

Warmth spreads through him, but he continues to play dumb, and shrugs. Echoes her earlier words. “Elaborate. I’m tired of guessing.” He scrapes her with his teeth again. “Plus, I like hearing you tell me what to do.” 

Tears drip from her eyes. Slate pulls back, startled. He’s about to apologise, certain he’s pushed too far when she grabs him by both horns. Guides his face to her pussy. 

“Here.” 

His mind goes blank at the action, his thoughts skittering away. Until he’s only aware of her grip and the delectable warmth before him. He takes his time with kitten licks and soft kisses. Teasing forgotten, he treats her with awe, with gentleness. His wife spreading her legs for him is such a privilege, he can’t help but savour every taste.   

Despite his abandoned plan, Adalyn still feels Slate’s exploratory pace. He winds her up until she’s groaning and bucking once more. Impatient, she uses her grip on Slate’s horns to grind against his face.  

Slate drops further at the sensation. With his eyes shut tight and Adalyn’s thighs pressed hard around his head, it’s too easy for him to lose himself. He works without thought, drawn into her taste, her sounds. Her grip on him sends goosebumps down his neck and he hums, happy to relish the sensation, letting Adalyn pull him wherever she likes. 

Trancelike, he moves with increasing fervour, flicking his tongue against her clit before moving down to tease her entrance. Over and over until he’s sucking hard at her pearl just to enjoy the way she shudders against him. He doesn’t notice the growing tension in her limbs, or the change in her volume. Doesn’t notice the signs of the orgasm creeping up on her until she’s gripping his horns with every ounce of her strength and gasping out his name.  

It draws him out of his daze. Rekindles his lust. Slate decides then and there that he needs to hear Adalyn say it again. That he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her like this – moaning and incoherent. Appetite barely whetted, he keeps working, sucking harder on her clit and teasing her entrance with a finger. She’s so slick, slipping inside is effortless. She whines and tries to jerk back, but Slate is resolute, intent on pushing Adalyn as far as she can go. He adds another finger. 

She’s a mess beneath him. Still shaking, riding out the aftershocks of her orgasm. Unable to come down with the way Slate keeps going. She wants to relax, wants to relish the intrusion, but is too heightened to do so. She’s barely aware of the sounds leaving her, the whimpers and groans.  

Every time she untenses, Slate moves his fingers, prompting her to clamp down. Again and again, until she stops trying to pull from his grasp. Starts opening for his touches again. Though she can’t yet stop her cries or hold still. Tears brim her eyes. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know what she wants. 

His prior plan to tease Adalyn until she begged comes back to him. He could keep going, turning her into an oversensitive mess. But looking at her, he doesn’t think he has the restraint. Watching her twitch and loll her head just reminds him of how much he wants to experience her pleasure for himself. To sink inside of her and feel her tremors directly around his cock. 

Slate rests his cheek against her thigh and pauses to catch his breath. He uses the moment to check in. “How you doing, Ad?” 

She tries pressing her legs together, succeeding only in pulling Slate’s face closer. A spent little noise escapes her.  

He can’t help but smile. “Sensitive?” 

She nods. 

He runs his free hand up the outside of her thigh, soothing. “Do you want me to stop?” 

She covers her face. Flinches when Slate curls his fingers inside of her. But doesn’t pull back.  

“I asked you a question.” He takes mercy and eases up. Lets her think unimpeded. Even if he wants to keep distracting her. 

A moment passes and she shakes her head. Her voice is barely a whisper, but Slate still hears her reply.  

“More.” 

He plants a soft kiss onto her thigh. He’s desperate for the next step, still achingly stiff and untouched. But if she wants more, who is he to refuse?  

He kisses his way back to her core, spreading her legs and ready to taste her again when he’s accosted by the swat of her hand. 

“Slate,” she cries and indecency of the sound makes his mouth water. “Please,” she wraps her hand around his horn once more and tugs. “I need the rest of you.” 

He doesn’t have the discipline to hold back. To feel anything but relief at her words. It’s all he can do to crawl up the bed, breathless, until he hovers over her face, caging her in with his forearms. He still needs to see her ask. 

“Say that again.” 

Her nose crinkles and she balls her fists against his chest. Her voice is small. “I need you...” 

Her embarrassment endears him. Arouses him. He can’t help but lower himself, settling between her legs. He strokes her thighs. Creeps his fingers closer to her dripping folds. She pants at the touch, spreading her legs eagerly. The sight threatens to unravel him, but he can still draw this out. Just a bit more. 

“You’re going to have to be specific, sweetheart.” 

Her hazy eyes clear long enough for her to blink up at him, pleading through dampened lashes. “I need you to fuck me.” 

Ancestors. When she looks at him like that, when she says something so crass – he's not going to be able to hold out much longer. His legs tremble as he rubs his cock against her folds. Carefully. Tauntingly.  

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

She whimpers. Hits his chest. “I said, fuck me.” 

“Ask nicely?” She could give him hell for it later. Right now, nothing beats the glee he feels hearing Adalyn beg. 

“Please,” she whines and tears escape down her cheeks. She wraps her legs around his waist and grinds against him. “Please stop teasing, please just fuck me, please Slate, please.” 

He can’t hold back anymore. Not when she’s lined up so perfectly or begging so prettily. He can’t stop himself from leaning down to brush his lips against her cheek. He tastes her tears before moving his lips to hers, gently at first. Heat grows inside him until he’s kissing her with abandon, fervid and hungry. When he pulls back he’s breathless, but no less eager. 

“I’d be delighted.” 

The last of his patience fleeing him, Slate thrusts inside.  

Her legs wrap tighter around him. They’re both silent but for their heavy breathing. The pause probably only lasts a moment, but it stretches on for Slate, enthralled by Adalyn panting in his ear, the tremble in her muscles, the absolute euphoria of having one of his cocks inside her.  

She moves first, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling. She lifts her hips to ease the dress up, the motion sending pleasure curling in his gut. Still, he takes Adalyn by the wrist. 

“Leave it on.” 

Adalyn leans back to look into his eyes again, even as her cheeks grow redder. There’s a question in the air, and as he stares at Adalyn, some of the mania, some of the subservience leaves her. She looks pleased. “You want me to leave it on?” 

He nods, suddenly abashed by the request. By the ease at which Adalyn can take control of the situation.  

Her smile widens and she pulls him down into a heated kiss. “Don’t rip it. I like seeing what it does to you.” 

He groans against her neck, heart pounding when Adalyn rolls her hips against him. “You’re a fiend, Adalyn.” He starts fucking her, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into her shoulder while he does. 

She meets his thrusts, thighs trembling with the effort. She takes his hands, coaxing him to squeeze her ass, to touch her waist. “Your fiend.” 

His hemi throbs at the words and he lets out a near growl. The curve of her hips, the warmth of her skin. She’s so soft beneath him. “Yeah?” 

“Mmhm.” 

Slate sits back, pulling Adalyn onto his lap as he goes. She doesn’t need to move much, legs already locked around him. Splayed open above him, with her dress ruffled and her hair loose, Slate doesn’t know where to look. He can’t see a single part of her he doesn’t desire.  

She takes his hands again. Glides them up her stomach, pushing the fabric up as she goes, until her breasts are peaking out. He doesn’t need further instruction, and begins to fondle her, awed. He leans in to suck and nip at her flesh. She jerks in his lap, arching and gasping at the attention, and Slate groans as she clenches around him.  

“All yours, Slate.” 

His hips jerk. “Fuck.” He starts bouncing Adalyn on his lap, eliciting a stream of her gasps. She closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. He reaches between them to press against her clit, delighting in the way she starts to squirm. “If you keep talking like that I’ll end up fucking you all night.” 

She laughs, but cuts off in a moan. It takes her a moment to reply. “Why wouldn’t I want my husband to fuck me all night? I happen to like him a lot.”  

Her teasing, sultry tone is undermined by her breathlessness, but it still does things to him. He stops palming her breast and grabs her by the hips. Overrides her easy pace on top of him in favour of a rougher fucking. Bucks up against her momentum and weight, driving himself deeper with each thrust, until he’s nearly slamming her down onto his cock. 

There’s still a part of him wondering if he’s taking it too far. Worried he might hurt Adalyn. The bed shakes beneath them, and the sound of their fucking echoes in the stone room. But Adalyn seems to enjoy the treatment. Her mouth is agape, her back arches, her nails scrabble to find purchase on his back. 

There’s no more room for rational thought, watching her like this – feeling her like this. The only thought he’s capable of having is the realisation that he needs more. He fucks her harder, faster, chasing that need for more. More of Adalyn. More of her sounds. More of that hot, wet texture gripping him so tightly. Until she’s convulsing on top of him, clasping a hand over her mouth, strained gasps escaping her. 

He grabs her wrist, unthinking. “I want to hear you.”  

Slate doesn’t give her a chance to respond. Keeps bucking, even as she trembles, limbs wracked with tension. Her moans peak, then stop entirely for a moment as she flexes. The spasms around his cock, the additional slick – feeling her come on top of him is his own undoing.  

The last of his thoughts turn to static. Every muscle in his core tightens. Then he’s slack jawed, head thrown back as he comes inside of Adalyn, hips faltering and coming to a stop once she’s taken every drop. 

“Fuck,” he says. His muscles turn to jelly. When Adalyn stops twitching around him she too goes slack, collapsing against his chest.  

“Yeah,” she agrees.  

--- NSFW Content Ends ---

He closes his eyes against the spinning of the room. Catches his breath. His muscles burn with a pleasant exertion. Strength is already starting to return to his body. The only downside to his quick recovery are the thoughts spooling back into his head; invasive and demeaning. 

Did he really just fuck Adalyn? 

He opens his eyes, and blinks down at her, bewildered. Hair sticks to her nape. Her heart is still pounding, but she’s boneless, the slight drag of her fingers against his arm the only indication of her consciousness.  

Yes. That had just happened. She’d climbed into his lap and asked him what he wanted. And then he’d carried her to the bed. 

She’d literally seduced him. 

Right? 

He curses his doubt. He should be ecstatic. Basking in afterglow. Giddy at Adalyn’s proximity. Not analysing whether or not his wife had actually wanted to have sex with him.  

He glares at the ceiling. He knows he’s being ridiculous. He knows it, he knows it, he knows it. It’s something he’ll have to unlearn. To talk to Adalyn about. Because if she does want him the same way he wants her, and he’s being cautiously obtuse – he winces at the thought. 

“Did you say you’ve wanted me for weeks?” It’s honestly a miracle he remembers the words. The rest of their encounter had been intense enough that all the foreplay, the banter, had burnt into afterthoughts.  

She stirs, opening her eyes to look up at him. Then smiles, her cheeks flushing before she hides her face against his chest. Her words are muffled. “It sounds familiar.” 

“Did you mean it?”  

He feels her swallow. She shifts so that she’s no longer straddling him, instead curling up against his side. “Yes.” 

He stares. Tries to reply, but words just catch in his throat. 

She wants him? (Wanted him. Still wants him?) Does she mean physically? Romantically? He has to know. Has to ask. If only he could formulate a proper sentence.  

Seconds stretch into minutes. Worried he’ll lose his chance, his nerve, he blurts: “Do you like me?” 

She pauses in stroking his collarbone. Looks up at him again, another wry smile at her lips. “You’re asking now?” 

He flushes. “Well, I know you wanted to- that you wanted me. But I mean... Do you want to court me?” 

The smile drops as she presses her lips together. Her face goes red as she stares up at him. She probably doesn’t realise Slate can see so much detail in the dark. 

Finally, she lowers her stare. Her voice is small. “I’ve been trying to court you for weeks.” 

He’s shocked into silence. Barely manages a weak, “What?” 

“I thought bringing you lunch every day and trying to spend so much time with you might clue you in.” 

His eyes widen further. 

“But humans do things differently. We’re a lot more reserved with physical touch and professions of emotion until we’re sure there’s returned feelings. And it’s usually done in equal parts by both men and women. I felt bad approaching you because I didn’t know how you felt about it.” 

He splutters. A small part of him starts spiralling. “You-” 

“I think I would have driven myself insane if Rin hadn’t sent me a book last week. It’s a treatise on wyvern physiology, though there was some etiquette stuff in there too. But even trying some of the stuff it mentioned, I was worried I might go too far.” 

He’s still incredulous. “You like me. Romantically?” 

She hides her face in the pillow. There’s a muffled noise of affirmation. It’s cute. 

It doesn’t tamper his bewilderment. “Why?” 

She turns her face, enough to be audible. “Well, you’re handsome. And interesting. And kind. And easy to be around. And every now and then you do something that’s really attractive. Liking you was mostly... just a crush. That snowballed into something bigger.” 

Amusement breaches his shock, and he relaxes. “You think I’m attractive?” 

Her face turns redder. “Yes. When you... lift things. Or when your clothes get wet.” 

He can’t help but laugh. Wraps his arm around her shoulders and draws her close again.  

“Do you...” she hesitates. Looks nearly as bothered as he’s felt these past few days. 

He scans her face, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Finally, it hits him. 

“Oh!” 

She deflates at his exclamation. He nearly panics at the posture. Rushes to reply. 

“Adalyn, I adore you.” 

Her brow crinkles. “But I’m... I’m just...” 

He takes her by the jaw. Runs his thumb over her cheek. “You’re thoughtful. You take me seriously. You listen to me. You respect me.” 

She calms enough to frown. “That’s a low bar.” 

Slate presses his forehead to hers. “You make me feel welcome. It’s... you have no idea how much I appreciate you.” 

She untenses when he leans in and touches his lips to her own. She melts into the kiss and his mind goes delightfully fuzzy. It’s sweet, and soft, and he loses track of time. His head spins when they pause. Close enough to share breath.  

He flushes as he contemplates his next words. “Can I... Can you tell me more about how humans make advances? Maybe not right now, but...” 

She smiles, and it’s sweet enough to wind him. “Of course.” 

He stares for a moment. Touches his forehead to hers again, inhaling deeply. Sweat and time have dulled her perfume, but it still lingers in the back of his mind, ambrosial and rich. Euphoria trickles into him, steadily enough that he leans down to kiss her again. Slowly, with a gradual increase in hunger. Until his hand is curling in her hair again, and he’s nearly on top of Adalyn – the heat between them rekindled. 

She breaks away, her eyes crinkling as she grins. “Are you still hard?” 

His lips twitch. “That’s the other one.” 

“Didn’t I get that one off before...?” 

He huffs. “I told you what’d happen if you kept running your mouth.” 

She laughs before stretching up to kiss him again. The intensity returns, Adalyn definitely encouraging it with the way she clings to him, her hands coasting along his back, her breasts pressing against his chest. Until she pulls away, and shuffles back. 

Slate doesn’t have time to be disappointed, because Adalyn rolls onto her stomach and lifts her ass. She gives an enticing wiggle, rubbing against him. “I could take more. But you’re changing the sheets afterwards. 

Something in his chest begins to soar. He could probably tear up from happiness, from affection. Especially if he thinks too long about her smile, or how easily she’s able to proposition him.  

He sets aside the feelings for later.  

Then pins Adalyn to the mattress, ready to start again.  

Next

[kuramirocket]

Wyverns

[dwellordream]

Books Recs of 2024

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. Mystery/fantasy centered around Din, a young assistant investigator assigned to help an eccentric and infamous detective, Ana Dolabra, solve a series of murders. Din is an engraver, his brain altered so he has a photographic memory. However, no one is quite sure how he got his current position, since he failed every single one of his final exams except the combat portion. Ana is an exceedingly odd woman who refuses to go to any crime scene in person and often performs mad science experiments in her spare time. As Din struggles to keep up with the case, which revolves around a bioweapon being unleashed on a series of the empire's best engineers, he also worries what will happen when Ana finally uncovers his secrets.

Highfire by Eoin Colfer. Urban fantasy (very comedic fantasy) about a dragon called Vern (short for Wyvern), who teams up with a juvenile delinquent named Squib (real name Everett Moreau) to take down a corrupt sheriff who is plaguing the Lousiana bayou. Vern is a very small (seven feet long) dragon who is the last of his kind (as far as he knows). When he is spotted by a local troubled teen, his first instinct is to hunt Squib down and kill him, but he quickly realizes the two of them have a common enemy- the murderous sheriff who is running drugs through their territory.

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi. Magical realism about a romantic-minded art historian who is swept off his feet by a mysterious and charming heiress. After a whirlwind courtship, the happy couple return to her childhood home; a Gothic manor on a lonely island. The more time our narrator spends around his wife's past, the more questions are raised- increasingly sinister ones about who she is and what exactly she is capable of. Once upon a time, she was best friends with an equally odd and dreamy little girl named Indigo. But no one has seen Indigo for many years now- and the Flower Bride may be behind her disappearance.

Chlorine by Jade Song. Horror/magical realism. Since childhood, Ren's entire identity has been wrapped up in swimming. If she can be strong enough, fast enough, special enough, success is sure to come her way. As the end of high school approaches, Ren's passion for swimming becomes less about her future, and more about past legends of mermaids and sirens dragging sailors into the deep. School, friends, and her parents' expectations all fall away- Ren will make her home in the water, no matter what she has to do.

We Are Not Like Them by Christine Pride & Jo Piazza. Realistic fiction. Jen and Riley have been best friends for as long as they can remember, despite their vastly different childhoods. Riley is from a middle class Black family; Jen was raised by an impoverished white single mother. After twenty years of doing almost everything together, their lives are at a crossroads- Riley is a news anchor about to take Philadelphia by storm, while Jen is expecting her first child with her police officer husband. When Jen's husband is involved in the murder of a Black teenage boy by a fellow officer, Riley finds herself expected to cover the story- and Jen finds herself expected to answer for her husband's actions- and her own beliefs about what racism looks like.

Queenpin by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Our nameless heroine lives a mousy existence working as a bookkeeper for a rundown local night club, but her life is turned upside down when the infamous Gloria Denton, a gun moll and smuggler, takes her under her wing. Gloria transforms her young protege from a timid girl to a sophisticated, cunning woman capable of handling gangsters, conmen, thieves, and bookies, but when she falls for the wrong man, her relationship with Gloria is strained, and they must decide just how far they can trust one another.

Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch by Rivka Galchen. Historical fiction. Based on the real life trial of Katharina Kepler, mother of the famed Johannes Kepler, Imperial Mathematician to the Holy Roman Empire. Katharina is a busybody, a domineering and devilishly clever woman with a particular talent for healing. She is also a fiercely loyal mother to her adult children, but when an old neighborhood grudge flares into accusations of poison and witchcraft, Katharina is determined not to meekly confess and beg pardon. The more she lashes out at her neighbors and the authorities, the more charges begin to pile up against her- despite her son's desperate attempts to save her from torture and execution.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Based on a real life murder case in 1931 Phoenix Arizona. Naive and sheltered Marion Seeley is deposited in Phoenix by her disgraced doctor husband, who is forced to take a job with a mining company in South America after his medical license is revoked. Marion befriends the vivacious Louise and Ginny, two fellow nurses, who introduce her to the underground party scene in Phoenix. Politicians and businessmen flock to the secret parties held by them, and it's a quick way to make money on the side. Drawn in by the luxury and thrills, Marion falls in love with Joe Lanigan, a powerful local politician, but as their affair intensifies, her friendship with the other women fractures, culminating in a gruesome crime.

[lairofdragonagelore]

Andrastian Statues

The purpose of this collection of statues is to show the Andrastian style depending on the region, the details in it, and how this may or may not influence other statues we saw in game. I also attempt to recollect some interpretations of them, although most of them are mostly based on speculations.

The current post contains the following set of statues:

Ferelden Style: Pre-Divine Andraste, Chasind Andraste, Ferelden warrior protector Andraste, The Maker, The Dwarf [?], Rider Maferath  [?], Masferath Repentant, Hanged Masferath, Other Statues.

Orlesian Style: Rustic Maferath, Hessarian, Andraste; The Orlesian Warrior Andraste, The Stylised Orlesian Andraste, The Orlesian Andraste, The Orlesian Maferath, The Orlesian Havard, and the Orlesian Hessarian; The Weight of War

Free Marches Style: The Free Marches Hessarian, The Free Marches Andrastian Warriors [?]

Unknown Style: The Skull with sword, The Guide, Guardians of the Path / The Watcher.

[This post belongs to the series “Analysis and speculation of Statues”]

Ferelden Style

Pre-Divine Andraste

One of the most iconic statues in DAI.  

It’s present all over Ferelden, specially in big, colossal statues along the paths of Hinterlands. They are so big that sometimes one can overlook them unless you look upwards [check Hinterlands: Statues, paintings, and structures found in the open]. 

In Skyhold, we can find this statue in a small version in the local chapel, which triggers the note Bride of the Maker.

Thanks to the DLC Jaws of Hakkon [Main Chamber of Razikale’s Reach], we know that this statue belongs to a pre-divine time. It is probably one of the oldest representations of Andraste we have in-game.

As usual, she has a one-spike helm that has strong resemblances to Flemeth’s tiara, and to Humanoid Mythal statue, Dragon Mythal statue, and the Ferelden Wyvern.

She has a sword in her hip. 

Her sleeves and skirt have long lines that emulate folding. It’s a style we saw in statues that were considered “elvhen” in-game [for example, the Elven Archers or The guide]. But we can see this became an Andrastian style since we also see it in the Blocky bearded humanoid.

Her gigantic hands have been used in several elvhen places, and I wonder how meaningful these are: these hands appear in Exalted Plains: the Dead Hand as well as in the  Shattered Library, holding eluvians. Is this a mere reuse of resources or hides some lore in it? We know DAI is less lazy about this than previous games.

This statue is curiously aligned with Humanoid Mythal statue in the Fade, as well as with the Imperial Highway Columns [check The Raw Fade:  Part 1]. A Design choice that keeps me wondering if it hides some meaning in it.

Chasind Andraste

It has the design of a totem.

Its relief is very intricate. 

She is represented as a protector warrior due to the strong presence of the shield on it. 

We can suspect this statue is also ancient, and you can see that it has similar style to the Alamarri Monolith with swirls we find all over Hinterlands.

If you pick the Chantry-related garden in Skyhold, this statue appears in it and the archivist Banon will mention details about it in The Women of All War. He claims it’s Chasind, not original from Skyhold, brought by Ferelden into the castle. He also suggest it’s a re-usage of an ancient totemic statue. 

This last comment streghtens the idea that ancient Andrastian art tends to be done over or using/co-opting statues from previous civilisations.

Ferelden warrior protector Andraste

Another classic representation of Andraste in game.

It’s Ferelden style.

She is represented as a warrior [holding shield and sword] but also as a divine entity [I suspect the ring behind her works as a rustic design of a halo].

There is a chance that the thick “halo” could be an adaptation from another icon we saw among the Elvhenan design: the Golden Ring. How is this possible? I think it’s not too strange considering how deeply related to the elves the Avvar are. If we think that part of this culture comes from the Alamarri, one could guess that through the elvhen lover that Thrydda had, some elvhen presence has been around this culture to incorporate elvhen iconography in their own art, translated later into something of this shape.

The Maker

This mysterious figure has no face, in fact, it looks like bandaged. In his right hand holds a crown, while in his left hand, a dagger. The outfit is a very simple robe. 

The dagger is quite curious for a representation of the Maker.

This statue took me a long whlie to identify. In early posts I kept calling it  Faceless figure holding a crown. I came to the conclusion it is the Maker.

This statue appears always within the context of the Andrastian statues, so it could not be asumed in any other way than related to the Andraste Myth. In the posts Andrastian Design: Stained Glasses and Andrastian Design: Tapestry and Tryptich, we can see that a figure with no face and wearing a crown of similar characteristics is represented as the Maker.  These are my main arguments to be confident about this identification.

In Hinterlands, he appears in the main hall of Haven very high upon the hall, hidden in the shadows, in a room filled with andrastian iconography, which reinforces the idea that it represents an entity that is above all of them, Andraste included. Another confirmation of being the Maker.

It also appears in the Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path, which has a mixture of statues, and in Forbidden Oasis, when the place was took by the Andrastian forces. It also appears in the mysterious Hinterlands: The Unknown Ruin. Other more natural and Andraste-related places where we find it: Redcliffe - Future,  Therinfal Redoubt, Western Approach: Adamant Fortress.

The Dwarf [?]

This figure was tag along the blog as Blocky bearded humanoid. It is found in the main hall of the Templar building of Therinfal Redoubt and in the corridors of Redcliffe - Future

The design of this statue feels closer to the pre-divine Andraste. Maybe it has some influence of the Alamarri style.

The long lines on sleeves and chest seem to suggest similarity in style with the pre-divine Andraste but also with the elvhenan statues such as the Elven Archers, or The guide.

Its face seems to show a big smile, but if you see it with more detail, it may also represent a long, long beard.  The broad constitution, the big ears, the lack of hair, and the prominent beard seem to suggest a golem-like or dwarven representation.

I can’t say I can identify this figure in the Andrastian Myth, but it’s related to the Andrastian Faith since it appears where there are other andrastian figures.

If this figure comes from the Alamarri and it was co-opted by the Andrastian faith, I could suspect that may be related to the dwarven culture that Alamarri had. If we remember Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path, she had a child with a dwarven prince. The Chasind also had mixed descendants of humans and dwarves. So, if it’s an alamarri statue co-opted by the Chantry, it could not be strange for it to be a dwarf. These details may indicate that the Alamarri had a deeper relationship with not only elvhen, but also dwarves, and this aspect appeared in the art until co-opted by the andrastian faith resulting in this figure.

Rider Maferath  [?]

This statue appears only in Fallow Mire. Although, the same statue appears riding a horse in Crestwood: surface. Maybe it’s a mere reuse of resources.

It has a similar design to the  Blocky bearded humanoid.

It represents a man with a beard, and its angular design may suggest similar time and style than the previous one.

More details in the section Other Statues from this post.

Masferath Repentant

Mostly seen in the region of Ferelden [although, you can find it too in Western Approach: Adamant Fortress] 

This is the typical Ferelden statue of Masferath, regretting his betrayal.

He is sitting on a stone which has a design of a snake surrounding it, representing the Tevinter influence or deal he made with the Archon before handing over his wife. 

The helm in this statue has a C-shape, which I find very similar in design to the Tevinter helms [check section “Outfits” in Patterns and Styles: Tevinter]. I’m not sure if this is mere coincidence, or it speaks of a common [dragon-inspired] origin source.

Hanged Masferath

This totemic sculpture can be found in Hinterlands: Statues, paintings, and structures found in the open.

This is a Ferelden representation of Masferath being hanged. Clearly Ferelden has a strong sentiment with his betrayal.

The totemic structure seems to show mabaris at its base, followed by two different kinds of birds or maybe it’s a dragon [hard to say].

The top of these totems keeps bringing my attention: I can’t stop thinking there may be some link with the Tevinter metallic statue that I called  “Tevinter bird”, found in Ferelden in the underground region of Crestwood: Flooded Caves.

Other Statues

The couple can be found in Hinterlands: Redcliffe - Present, as a symbol to remember those who died in DAO-Redcliffe. It can also be found in Crestwood: surface as a memory statue of the drown, and in Frostback Basin [DLC]: Nigel’s point, as a memory statue of Ameridan’s friends: The templar Haron and the dwarf Orinna. It feels more like a reuse in most cases since it’s a strange statue to represent "fallen/lost people”.  Certainly we can assume it’s Ferelden made.

The horse with the rider seems to have, as we see in its drawing from the book Art of Inquisition, a lot in common with the previous statue I called “Rider Masferath”. The horse has been removed in some other places to only let the human figure stay.  It can be seen in Fallow Mire without his horse, and in Crestwood: surface. Sometimes the rider is not well chiselled in the stone. 

The vessel with many faces is only seen once in the game, in the The Darvaarad - Part2. We know the Qunari took this castle and put a lot of statues that they gathered around the world. However, this statue of many faces looks like it belonged to the inner corridors of the castle, implying the castle per ser may have been Ferelden, or elvhen in origin, but repurposed by Ferelden later. In the game we only see the “back” part of it, while in the book Art of Inquisition, we can see the full statue, which implies a beheaded figure. Maybe it’s the representation of a jury. It could also be interpreted as an entity that puts “the right head” into the people, suiting the Qunari and their Qun philosophy, but this interpretation would make me question why it is so related to Ferelden art in the Art Book.

Orlesian Style

Rustic Maferath, Hessarian, Andraste

A bit distant to the style of the Blocky bearded humanoid, we have these series of statues representing typical characters from the Andrastian Myth.

They are mostly located in different areas all over Orlais [or inside the Skyhold if you pick an Andrastian garden].

We find Andraste, in blue and red [I’m assuming one is the bride of the Maker, while the other is the warrior protector of her people]

Masferath is carrying a crown (?) in his hands, and Hessarian is holding the Sword of Mercy.

These seem to belong to an Orlesian style but rustic or more “popular”. They give me the impression that were made by the working class people who could not afford realistic artists to sculpt them in stone. 

They seem to be made out of wood.

The Orlesian Warrior Andraste

Unlike the previous one, this Orlesian statue is made out of stone and is bigger, more detailed, and realistic. It seems to appear in rich/high class places.

It also appears in Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin, which may represent the influence of the Andrastian faith among the Ancient Dalish when the Dales was their Kingdom land granted by Andraste herself.

This statue presents Andraste as a warrior: she is wearing a detailed armour, a big sword, and, curiously, a helm that has no iconic single-spike. However, I can see some similarities in the armour design to Flemeth’s armour or the armour used by Humanoid Mythal statue.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Stylised Orlesian Andraste

Another over-detailed statue of Andraste made out of Stone which appears in wealthy places.

The whole design of Andraste has a strong similarity to Tyrdda Bright-Axe, which may suggest that this statue may have a strong alamarri influence, mixing Andraste tale with the representation of Tyrdda.

The icon that represents the sun, ironically, has a strong similarity with the statue I called Sun-head creature, deeply related to the Elvhenan and, potentially, to Tevinter and its old dragon gods. This may imply that this statue may have collected several icons and details from different cultures and faiths to gather them in the cult to Andraste. This process is well known in human History, where the forced religion tries to blend with the local ancient one to produce an assimilation of the new faith.

The Orlesian Andraste

This Orlesian statue is made out of stone and is bigger and a lot more detailed and realistic that the “wooden” sculptures. 

It tends to appear in wealthy places as well as inside the Chantries of the game.

It represents mostly the divine Andraste and the bride of the Maker, without any element of her warrior side.

She has a one-spike helm that has strong resemblances to Flemeth’s tiara, Humanoid Mythal statue, Dragon Mythal statue, and the Ferelden Wyvern.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Masferath

It is called “The Betrayer”. 

We see the man worried, grabbing his own head, showing the weight of his own betrayal. He keeps the crowd of his leadership of the Alamarri in his hand since the Chantry tale says that he betrayed Andraste out of jealousy because she was more important than him among their people. I always questioned this since he was the one commanding the armies and their people into Tevinter, and he may have chosen the “lesser bad” option [read the The Chantry and the Mythology of the Chant of Light for more details].

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Havard, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Havard

Havard is shown here with avvar clothings [fur-based]. 

He is  carrying the urn of Andraste’s ashes that will be placed in Haven and will become later the Temple of Andraste [DAO].

We know thanks to the notes triggered in it that this statue seems to represent Havard but its appearance was based on a noble’s lover [check it in Emprise du Lion: Pools of the Sun].

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, and Orlesian Hessarian.

The Orlesian Hessarian

He is holding the sword that will be called the Sword of Mercy, used to kill Andraste in the pyre so she could not suffer anymore.

His hat has a bent T-shape that we can see in many other helms of Tevinter warriors in the section of “outfits” in Patterns and Styles: Tevinter.

Due to the strong similarities in style, this statue belongs to the same group than the Orlesian Warrior Andraste, Orlesian Andraste, Orlesian Maferath, and Orlesian Havard.

The Weight of War

This statue was tagged in this blog as Man holding bigger head  for a long while.

It has appeared in Forbidden Oasis, Redcliffe - Future, and in Orlais: Winter Palace.

Thanks to the constant presence of Andrastian-themed art around it, I could finally assume that this statue belongs to Andrastian art in Orlesian style.

The main man has angular features, his ears are not visible since it looks like he is wearing a chain-mail. He uses scale-based pauldrons, and a robe. He is holding a sword with one hand while the other holds a bigger head. By comparison with the state of the overall figure, we can assume that the bigger head has a lot of wounds and scars [meaning that this is part of the sculpture design and not a consequence of erosion]. 

Despite looking similar, the head in his hand and this man’s profile are different. The bigger head has a smaller, shrank nose. 

The only significant shape in this statue that can give us a resemblance of a hint to whom it belongs is his belt, which has pointy ends. We had seen this pattern in two places: in Tevinter artefacts, such as the sacrificial burial, or in andrastian outfits.

It triggers a codex called The Weight of War which is a bit unreliable, since the person explaining this is an amateur historian, but it’s the only hint we have about this statue. The amateur historian implies that this statue may belong to a warrior with a philosophy similar to the Grey Wardens.

More details about this statue in the post Forbidden Oasis.

Free Marches Style

The Free Marches Hessarian

It appears mostly in the Templar fortress of Therinfal Redoubt

This statue has a strong resemblance to Tevinter art. It’s not only the dark metallic material used for the sculpture, which was strong similarities with Tevinter artefacts such as Thrummer,  Water dispenser, Tevinter urn,  Tevinter artefact with spikes, Tevinter golem or Claw of Dumat, but also the prominence of angles and pointy ends. 

There is no codex associated with this sculpture, but I can guess it may represent Hessarian [the main Tevinter figure in the Andrastian Myth] since this statue has a version carrying a sword. 

It has a long beard and hair.

This statue has also been present in DA2, specially in the Chantry district of Kirkwall [check it in Architecture of Kirkwall : The Chantry].

The Free Marches Andrastian Warriors [?]

It appears mostly in the Templar fortress of Therinfal Redoubt and in the Fade.

This statue has a strong resemblance to Tevinter art. It’s not only the dark metallic material used for the sculpture, which was strong similarities with Tevinter artefacts such as Thrummer,  Water dispenser, Tevinter urn,  Tevinter artefact with spikes, Tevinter golem or Claw of Dumat, but also the prominence of angles and pointy ends. 

It’s wearing a typical DA2 Andrastian robe, but the helm has always brought my attention:  it has a lot of more similarity to the Tevinter warriors than to the one-single spike helm of Andraste.

Its weapon also has a strong similarity to the weapon used by Tevinter golems, while its helm has strong similarities with the ones that belong to the Tevinter warriors. One may say that both of them, in fact, are representing the one-spike helm of Andraste.

The unmistakable identification with Andrastian faith is given by the robe: if we see the chest, we will see the pointy half sun on it, which was the main design of the outfit of Elthina and other chantry priests we saw in DA2.

Unknown Style

The Skull with sword

This is the statue that I called Skull bud with sword all over this blog.

The skull is quite long for a regular human. It holds a sword. The body seem to be inside a bud or a shell that may look like a flower bud but also as the shell of an insect/scarab. 

This statue has always appeared within Andrastian contexts such as in Frostback Mountains - Haven [the basement], Hinterlands:Dead Ram Grove, or Ferelden: Therinfal Redoubt,  but also in places where the Andrastian context is not that strong, but still yet reasonable to appear, for example in Hinterlands: The Unknown Ruin [overtaken by Andrastian faith lately, so far we see in the statues present in this room], or Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin [which clearly shows how the Ancient Dalish allowed a certain level of assimilation of the Andrastian faith thanks to Andraste’s gift of the Dales]. However, we also find this statue in Western Approach: The Still Ruins, Viridis Walk and Inner Sanctum, which is a pre-blight Tevinter building, so one is inclined to think that this statue may have been Tevinter in origin, and somehow, adopted later by the Andrastian faith.  Or maybe it’s just Elvhenan, taken first by Tevinter, and later by the Chantry [as we see this pattern repeats over and over with everything related to Tevinter].

One of the potential interpretations is that this sculpture represents a coffin, or a dead who is put to sleep in this position. The fact that this skull is inside a bud or an insect shell [in addition to the speculation that, like all what comes from Tevinter, was originally elvhenan] brings the possibility of being related to Uthenera and the mysterious codex of Vir Dirthara: A Flowering Imago that I tried to multi-interpret in several ways in Ancient Elven codices; Vir Dirthara.

So far I know, there is no codex associated with it, and we have only speculations about it.

Its style is not strongly similar to all these Andrastian statues, but the fact that it appears mostly within andrastian themed rooms, it’s hard not to bring it into this post.

However, I’m not confident about how to understand this statue and to what culture associated it with.

The Guide

It can be seen in three places only: Emerald Graves: The open pointing more or less towards Elgar’nan’s Bastion, on top of Stone-Bear Hold Avvars - Part 2 pointing out to the sea, and in the Fade, exactly in Flemeth’s Fade:  Part 2, pointing the path towards Mythal/Flemeth.

It’s associated with the unreliable landmark called The guide [written by this orlesian scholar who lacks of deep knowledge of elven culture], which identifies it as an elvhen statue, but it has a lot of style similarities to the Blocky bearded humanoid and the pre-divine Andraste as well as to the Skull bud with sword. If we see the back of an Elven Archer statue, we can find line-based similarities too, so it’s hard to decide whether this is truly Elvhen in origin and co-opted by the Andrastian and repurposed later, or it truly belongs to the set of pre-divine statues we spoke above and this amateur scholar misunderstood it as Elvhenan.

The unreliable landmark links it to Falon’Din for the mere fact that it is pointing out a place, so it “guides”. If we overlook this pathetic logic, and we give it a remote chance for it to be elvhen, we should be careful to identify it with Falon’Din. First, Via Solas, we know that Falon’Din was far from guiding people [Check Evanuris], and second, even if we consider this statue to be Falon’Din, we should never forget how Falon’Din and Dirthamen are entangled one another [check Humanoid Dirthamen], so this could also be a statue representing Dirthamen. The shape of the sleeves has some resemblance to the Elven Owl statue [they have long lines along it], but once more, both gods are so indistinguishable one another that it’s hard to say who is who.

Guardians of the Path / The Watcher 

This hooded statue was called Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din in this blog.

The hooded statue can be seen in four places: in Emerald Graves: The open, as a watcher of entrances, in the Hinterlands, along the Tyrdda Bright-Axe Path inside the Calenhad’s Foothold; in Exalted Plains: Northern Ramparts and Citadelle du Corbeau, as the main big statue when you step into the Citadelle [again, watching over an entrance] and in Flemeth’s Fade – Part 2, as a statue bleeding profusely with a sword in its back, as an unmistakable symbol of betrayal.

In all these cases, the hooded version of the statue seems to be related to “watch or protect entrances”. Due to its presence in the Fade of Flemeth, we also can associate it with deep betrayal.

Once we see how the pattern unfolds with the statue I called Humanoid Dirthamen/Falon'Din [hodded version] we can understand the Andrastian version “guardian of the path” in similar fashion [he always appears in entrances as well], suspecting it was a re-usage and co-opt of the elvhen hooded statue when the Andrastian forces conquered the Ancient Dalish's lands.

The Guardian of the Path appears twice in game: in Crestwood: surface, at the entrance of the region, similar position as the hooded versions in Emerald Graves, and in the entrance to the region of the Exalted Plains.

[moviemunchies]

It’s the Year of the Dragon, so let’s talk about a dragon movie!

In Damsel, Millie Bobby Brown stars as Elodie, a young noblewoman from a land suffering severe famine. Her family receives aid in a bride price for her marriage to Prince Henry of the fabulously wealthy island Kingdom of Aurea. It seems a dream-come-true until, right after the wedding ceremony, Elodie is ritually sacrificed to the dragon that lives on the island in the mountain cave near the castle.

It turns out that every generation, Aurea sacrifices three maidens to the dragon, and she’ll leave the kingdom alone. Now Elodie has to find a way to escape the maze-like caverns, using her wits and whatever she can find, while being hunted by a sadistic dragon that delights in taunting her prey.

I should start with: subjectively, I kind of love this movie. Shoreh Aghdashloo tends to always be great in her roles, and she makes a fantastic dragon here. I would watch a dozen movies of her playing an evil dragon, because having her voice a character who relishes in wrecking stuff and people? This is great. I love the dragon’s design, too. Thank Tiamat, we finally get a movie dragon that’s not a wyvern. We spend so much of the movie only seeing bits and pieces of her, until we get to the third act and we finally see the full dragon and it is glorious. Playing with her prey like a great cat who spits flaming liquid. Excellent. Fantastic. Beautiful.

I really like dragons, okay?

Objectively, though, there are some problems with the way this movie was written.

The biggest is that the movie tries to make the dragon ultimately sympathetic to the viewer. And you’re probably going to guess how long before the Reveal, as there’s pretty much only one way writers try to make murderous dragons sympathetic. Which is, uh… look, I don’t know that it works. The gist of it is (minor spoilers, I guess) that the dragon thinks she’s killing maidens of the Aurean royal line. The attempt to make her sympathetic leans not on her realizing she’s been cruel and callous to innocent women who didn’t deserve it, but instead realizing she hasn’t been cruel and callous to the innocent women who still didn’t deserve it, but were descended from someone who did. Ultimately, the movie seems to be okay if the dragon was horribly killing women if they had the wrong bloodline, I guess?

I don’t think it’s what was intended, because the Aurean family is just… garbage, man, with Prince Henry as the only one with a shred of decency, and that is a small shred. It feels clumsy, is all.

Maybe it’d be overlooked if the Aureans got more development, but they don’t. I’m not saying I need them to have sympathetic motivations; Lord knows they don’t need those at all. They can be terrible people, of course, and I think that’s all that the makers of the film wanted them to be. I would have liked to have seen more of them, though. Even if I don’t need them to be relatable, I’d like a better grasp on why they think this is an okay thing to do.

Elodie’s stepmother–she also needed some work. Angela Bassett performs fantastically here with what she’s got, and so we get some good groundwork, I just think there could have been more done with this character.

The movie clearly wants us to think it’s a happy ending, and I don’t know that it is. I think there’s a throwaway line about how Elodie secured supplies to take home to help with the famine, but I notice discussions I’ve seen of the movie don’t mention it, so maybe I’m mistaken. Other factors make me really question how happy that ending’s meant to be, though.

Also, those glow worms were really convenient. Not a huge problem, as they’re established early on, I just think maybe the way they work is a little too easy.

Even with its issues, however, I think the movie’s first half is legitimately fantastic. It’s thrilling, it’s cool, it’s got a killer dragon, and it’s got someone trying to survive in a cave. Performances all-around are great and fun to watch.

So maybe it doesn’t hold together as well as it could–still, it’s not a bad dragon movie, and if you want to see awesome dragon action, the movie works for that.

[Also apparently there’s a novelization which takes the story in a completely different direction? I’ll be checking that out of my local library soon.]

[julietvoid]

People I'd Like to Know Better!

The sweet @dark-and-kawaii tagged me in this tag game, you can find a link to her post here, if you're nosey like me >:-)

Last Song: human replacement - billie marten Favorite Color: jade green Currently Watching: x-files Last Movie/TV Show: runaway bride (1999) Spicy/Savory/Sweet: savory!!! Relationship Status: jason derulo - ridin' solo (i guess this technically makes this my last song but shhhh) Current Obsession: bg3, gillian anderson (always), grilled cheese with tomato soup, and making stupid pages for my stupid little characters :-) Last Google Search: anime girl saul goodman pose... SOMEONE TAGGED MY GALE PIC THIS AND I YELLED

plz feel no obligation to do this tag but i would love to get to know YOU: @deadletterpoets , @zyana-wyvern , @phasebun and @ritualhymns (if you've already done this tag link me your post!!! also if you weren't tagged but still want to do this tag- DO IT! i wanna see!)

[i-plague-eater]

OK! It's time for real odd fan theories!

It's a widespread fandom headcanon that Cedric is a naga. Which is a quite obvious thing to assume considering that nagas are basically snakes with a human torso. Many fans are giving his folk an Indian vibe and I really like such diversity.

Since small Cedric in my comic book is fond of folklore and especially everything including dragons, I started collecting mythology as well. There are four legged classy dragons, wyverns with two legs/hands but there are also wyrms who sound like worms. So I was like: who the heck are wyrms? From "The Lair Of The White Worm" movie I knew that it's an old tradition of calling dragons "worms". It seemed at first that a wyrm is a dragon that misses legs and only has snake-like body and wings. Also, breaths acid. I dug deeper and found out that according to the one of theories a word wyrm comes from Lindworm or Lindwurm.

Who are the lindworms then?

Lindworms are long, snake-like mythical creatures living deep in the forest that traditionally has the shape of a giant serpent monster. Legend tells of two kinds of lindworm, a good one associated with luck, often a cursed prince who has been transformed into another beast, and a bad one, a dangerous man-eater which will attack humans on sight. Sometimes Lindworms has legs and/or wings, sometimes they don't. It really depends on the myth. I do like a variation saying that they has two limbs but they move like snakes and use these limbs as hands.

Here the fun begins.

As you might know, the Escanors came from Britain, like, Arthurian Britain. Lindworms along with wyverns are a part of northern folklore, like, Scotland for example. Or we might remember The Lair Of the White Worm again where Bram Stocker is referencing a legend of the Lambton Worm.

Here's something to spice up things even more:

In the 19th-century tale of "Prince Lindworm" (also "King Lindworm") from Scandinavian folklore, a "half-man half-snake" lindworm is born, as one of twins, to a queen, who, in an effort to overcome her childlessness, followed the advice of an old crone who instructed her to eat two onions. As she did not peel the first onion, the first twin was born a lindworm. The second twin is perfect in every way. When he grows up and sets off to find a bride, the lindworm insists that a bride be found for him before his younger brother can marry. Because none of the chosen maidens are pleased by him, he eats each one until a shepherd's daughter who spoke to the same crone, is brought to marry him, wearing every dress she owns. The lindworm tells her to take off her dress, but she insists that he shed a skin for each dress she removes. Eventually his human form is revealed beneath the last skin. Some versions of the story omit the lindworm's twin, and the gender of the soothsayer varies. A similar tale occurs in the 1952 novel The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis. (source)

The most insane idea is to make Cedric a Phobos and Elyon brother, but a bastard. Like, a bastard who is a bastard due to his lindworm nature? Or just a aristocrat with the same background, also related to the Escanor clan. I mean, he's been called "a Lord" right?

I don't think I can use the first idea, although might use the second one for an adult cartoon Cedric. Anyway, I do like the idea of using ancient Northern mythology and English folklore. I'll keep digging and bring you interesting pieces once I'll find them.

[blood-darkened-moon]

Dark Souls

Dark Souls 1

Characters Chosen Undead | Anastacia of Astora | Knight Lautrec of Carim | Solaire of Astora | Blacksmith Andre | Oscar of Astora | Giant Blacksmith | Quelaan/Daughter of Chaos | Quelana of Izalith | Gwynevere Princess of Sunlight | Siegmeyer of Catarina | Sieglinde of Catarina | Kingseeker Frampt | Darkstalker Kaathe | Patches the Hyena | Lord's Blade Ciaran | Dusk of Oolacile | Darkmoon Knightess | Elizabeth | Furtive Pygmy | Witch of Izalith | Hawkeye Gough | Giant Crow | Shiva of the East | Black Iron Tarkus | Alvina of the Darkroot Wood | Big Hat Logan | Ingward the Guardian of the Seal | Female Undead Merchant

Bosses Asylum Demon | Taurus Demon | Capra Demon | Gaping Dragon | Bell Gargoyle | Chaos Witch Quelaag | Iron Golem | Moonlight Butterfly | Dragon Slayer Ornstein | Executioner Smough | Centipede Demon | Gravelord Nito | Seath the Scaleless | Four Kings | Great Grey Wolf Sif | Dark Sun Gwyndolin | Crossbreed Priscilla | Sanctuary Guardian | Artorias the Abysswalker | Manus Father of the Abyss | Black Dragon Kalameet | Gwyn Lord of Cinder

Enemies Silver Knight | Mushroom People | Havel the Rock | Black Knight | Wheel Skeleton | The Channeler | Black Hydra | Stone Guardian | Sunlight Maggot | Batwing Demon | Crow Demon | Ghost | Undead Attack Dog | Maneater Mildred | Crystal Golem | Skeleton Beast | Kirk Knight of Thorns | Undead Dragon

Dark Souls 2

Characters Bearer of the Curse | Emerald Herald/Shanalotte | Lucatiel of Mirrah | Aslatiel of Mirrah | Lonesome Gavlan | Royal Sorcerer Navlaan | Vengarl of Forossa | Faraam, God of War | Alsanna the Silent Oracle | Nadalia Bride of Ash | Jester Thomas | Sweet Shalquoir | Benhart of Jugo | Weaponsmith Ornifex | Creighton the Wanderer

Bosses Old Dragonslayer | Ruin Sentinel | The Rotten | Executioner's Chariot | Covetous Demon | Mytha the Baneful Queen | Old Iron King | Throne Watcher | Throne Defender | Looking Glass Knight | Demon of Song | Velstadt the Royal Aegis | King Vendrick | Smelter Demon | Royal Rat Authority | Fume Knight | Sir Alonne | Elana the Squalid Queen | Sinh the Slumbering Dragon | Aava the King's Pet | Lud the King's Pet | Zallen the King's Pet | Burnt Ivory King | Darklurker | Nashandra

Enemies Aurous Knight | Heide Knight | Amana Priestess | Pursuer | Flame Salamander

Dark Souls 3

Characters Ashen One | Fire Keeper | Anri of Astora | Horace the Hushed | Yuria of Londor | Eygon of Carim | Irina of Carim | Orbeck of Vinheim | Sirris of the Sunless Realms | Unbreakable Patches | Greirat of the Undead Settlement | Siegward of Catarina | Princess Filianore | Company Captain Yorshka | Sir Vilhelm | Baby Ocelotte | Queen of Lothric | Painting Woman | Liliane of the Sable Church | Lord of Hollows | Karla | Cornyx of the Great Swamp | Ringfinger Leonhard | Rosaria Mother of Rebirth | Pygmy Lords | Yellowfinger Heysel | Old Wolf of Farron | Archdeacon Klimt | Archdeacon Mcdonnell | Archdeacon Royce | Shira Knight of Filianore | Pilgrim from Londor | Ludleth of Courland

Bosses Iudex Gundyr | Vordt of the Boreal Valley | Curse Rotted Greatwood | Crystal Sage | Deacons of the Deep | High Lord Wolnir | Old Demon King | Champion Gundyr | Pontiff Sulyvahn | Abyss Watchers | Yhorm the Giant | Aldrich Devourer of Gods | Dancer of the Boreal Valley | Dragonslayer Armour | Lothric Younger Prince | Lorian Elder Prince | Ancient Wyvern | Nameless King | Storm Drake | Oceiros the Consumed King | Champion's Gravetender | Gravetender Greatwolf | Sister Friede | Father Ariandel | Demon Prince | Darkeater Midir | Halflight Spear of the Church | Slave Knight Gael | Soul of Cinder

Enemies Pontiff Knight | Fire Witch | Sulyvahn's Beast | Grand Archives Scholar | Lothric Knight | Darkwraith | Carthus Swordsman Skeleton | Tree Woman | Ravenous Crystal Lizard | Corvian Settler | Corvian Knight | Ringed Knight | Desert Pyromancer Zoey | Londor Pale Shade | Holy Knight Hodrick | Angel | Outrider Knight | Jailer | Grand Archives Scholar | Monstrosity of Sin | Wolf | Grave Warden | Deep Accursed

Groups/Ships/All Games Twin Princes | Nkstein | Ciartorias | Eygon x Irina | Four Knights of Gwyn | Crystal Lizard | Patches | Basilisk | Mimic | Skeleton | Velka Goddess of Sin

Others Dubious Grandma | Maiden of the Moon | Irithyll of the Boreal Valley

DS Trivia

[ibiteactually]

Thank you for all your lovely tags on the Wyverns bride 💕 the epilogue is still in process but I’m totally working on it. You know. Between other things.

Of course!!! I love your work so much and I plan on reading your other stories too! I understand being busy with other things, as I have too. Which is why it took me a while to get back to this lovely story. Can't wait to see how you finish it off. I'll be sad to see it end 😔

[pegasusknightsonly]

awakening luna planning

chrom/sumia obvs im not an idiot. usual inheritance goes (galeforce from sumia, aether from chrom). this run i had lucy go through sage and that wasnt great but it wasnt terrible either. ds+ and tomefaire gave it way more oomph than lucys raw magic would suggest. what else could lucy do if i want to give her a beast mode... hmm. i want to keep her in a sword class if i can. bow knight i guess after she finishes great lord

lissa/libra DONT FIX WHAT ISNT BROKEN MY FRIENDS !!!

what if i dont use wyvern panne. i mean thats stupid and i probably should but what if i didnt feel like it. the problem is that virion!yarne is really really good and frederick!inigo is absolute trash but frederick!yarne and virion!inigo are both Just Fine. i do really like virion and olivias support. hmmmm

gregor/miriel again its a classic for a reason. maybe i do nerdzerker laurent so i can keep lucy in a physical class

now unfortunately i need a magical girl to hang out with owain. i really dont want to use noire because tharjas base hit is so horrible. henry!nah ? henry!nah maybe??????????? str +3 mag +3 skl +2 spd -1 oof but what can you do with nowi lol lck +0 def +5 (??????) res +2

"what about robin" what ABOUT robin. i mean. rob/lon'qu. its a classic for a reason

ok how would we all feel about vaike!yarne and frederick!severa . now i know what youre saying and i agree that cordelia is virtually unusuable but severa is at least better. fred!sev is str +4 mag -2 skl +5 spd +1 lck +0 def +3 res +0 is like... i dont like spd +1 but i like the rest of the statline????

nnnnnnn i actually really like a +mag robin/sully........ str -1 mag +3 skl +3 spd +5 lck -2 def +0 res +3

but that gives us 6 girls 4 boys. so i probably need to commit to a m!morgan for balance. i DO want to use robin as a rallybot late game and frobin is much better for that bc of bride access so i dont want a 3rd gen morgan bc robin wont be seeing much combat. HMMM

wait hear me out on my new terrible idea. donnel!nah. str +3 mag +1 skl-1 spd -2 lck +5 def +5 res +2 for another armsthrift/sol build ?? orrrrrrr ricken!nah str +1 mag +4 skl +0 spd -1 lck +3 def +3 res +3 in sage or dark knight to bakc up what owain is doing......

buttttttttttt you KNOW i love mag robin/lon'qu which is a m!morgan with str +0 mag +4 skl +4 spd +6 lck -2 def -1 res +1 and i think nah and morgan could have a lot of fun together... early second seal ricken to archer to boost nowi's hit bc awakening manaketes use str instead of mag?

ok.

sumia!lucina (bow knight) x gregor!laurent (berserker)

chrom!cynthia (sniper) x virion!inigo (warrior)

gaius!kjelle (dark flier) x libra!owain (van/ven sage)

frederick!severa (...paladin? luna falcoknight?) x vaike!yarne (berserker)

ricken!nah (sage) x lon'qu!morgan (van/ven sorceror to sage)

+mag/-lck frobin (grandmaster -> dark flier -> bride -> falcoknight rallybot) x lon'qu (?trickster or griffon knight for +1 mov on pairup)

sumia (luna falcoknight flying support/speed rallybot) x chrom (bow knight / skill rallybot)

olivia (dancer) x virion (early promotion into sniper to maximise longbow chip damage?)

all other parents benched

[vaya-writes]

Adalyn and Slate for the kissing game! 🎲 24

This has sat in my inbox since June thank you for your patience. This was sleepy kiss, I still remember. Not sure I have it in my to doll out some 10/10 writing, so have dot points instead.

It's been a long flight. Adalyn is stiff and cold and has been clinging to Slate's back for her dear life, and though she wants to take in the view under the full moon, she's honestly just bleary eyed and too tired after the events of the day.

Slate lands gently, tries not to jostle her. Knows she's going to be staggering and sore, but doesn't expect that the moment he is safely on the ground, all the tension leaves her muscles and she turns to jelly on top of him. Cannot dismount.

He shapeshifts instead, shadows enveloping the pair of them for a moment and when they clear we're left with the view of Slate standing in his demi form, holding Adalyn princess style.

She smiles up at him before snuggling against his shoulder, biting back a yawn.

He gives her a forehead kiss. Soft and loving. Tender.

"Let's get you to bed, dearest."

[flydotnet]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card!

(Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

But I will be fine. I must be.

Unofficial Gay Fates has made me super partial to both Scarlet and ships with Scarlet. I'm a Ryoma/Scarlet girly too, but also, the Scarlet-Xander support chain was too good for me not to get into the trenches and write something for it too. I may've read the official Scarlet/Chevois lore doc a little too many times compared to how faithful to UGF my Scarlet ended up being? Oh well. You never get anywhere if you never try! I don't like how Revelation handled... well, most things, and the thing with Valla is stoopid as it's written there, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy playing with a zombie country of sort. There's a kind of horror to it and I had to set a mood y'know?the number of times I had "Deessu. Kurimuzon." in my head while writing this fic is obscenely high.

-----

Bride of Crimson

Summary: Guilt will come later - for now, Scarlet needs to escort a prince to safety.

Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates (Revelation route) Ship: Pre-S-Support Scarlet/Xander

Wordcount: words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version.

------

Vallites don’t bleed.

That’s because they don’t have a soul anymore, Scarlet has been told. They’re corpses haunted by the mindless desire to do something. Ryo has compared them to a lizard’s tail once cut from its body, trembling as if alive yet dead all the same; and she didn’t really question it. If Ryo believed Corrin, then she had no reason to suspect anything either: Ryo knew what he was doing, then why would she go against him? As far as she was concerned, nothing had contradicted what his sister had said.

 Vallites don’t bleed, which makes it oh so much more noticeable when it’s her comrades who do. It smears on the fluorescent grass of Valla and it smells like iron – not the sort that results from weapons clashing against each other, but that which has kept her on alert for so long, back in Cheve. It looks out of place right when she thought she had finally gotten used to bloodshed.

Scarlet has been through worse, though. It takes a special kind of guts to rise against a kingdom so much bigger than your country, whose nobles seem so adamant to hurt people they can’t see while they laze around and live in luxury (and someone may’ve helped with her perception of that, but one man can’t change an entire life experience of conclusions), but it’s this special kind that’s now allowing her to cut through ghosts that play pretend with everyone’s emotions and distress alike.

 A strong, belting voice screams from behind her, prompting her to briefly turn around.

“Scarlet, look out!”

She barely has the time to crouch before a sword dark as the night pierces through a Faceless’ chest. If the voice wasn’t a giveaway, then the weapon alone would be a dead seller for the ages.

“Xander?!”

He walks his horse to her, Siegfried still in hand. (A beautiful weapon, if sinister… and plain. Unfortunately, her offer to spruce it up has already been turned down).

“Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m not, in no small part thanks to ya.” She shines him a smile.

“Very well,” he replies with stiff shoulders and a smirk just as uncomfortable to look at. “Where’s your wyvern?”

“Errrh… Vaida got injured earlier, so I’m lettin’ her a nice rest back at camp! Can’t let my ride get worse under my watch!”

“I see. I trust you can handle yourself on your own, right?”

“Of course! Dun take me for a fragile lil’ flower, Dandy-Lion!”

He blushes like a tulip at the remark, “p-please keep this silly nickname off the—”

Xander stops dead in his tracks, eyes opening wide.

“Dan…”

“Get down!”

 A hand axe cuts through the air, flirting so close to her pauldron that it tears it off from her, taking it in its course.

 Once the initial shock passes, she clutches her own axe to her and swings it at the culprit – some Vallite soldier with empty sockets for eyes, in a vague human shape, glaring at her with an expression just as soulless. Yep, no sympathy to be found here.

She slashes it in a single blow and doesn’t bother with delicacy, almost cutting the creature in two clean halves, looking around just enough to tell Ryo and his little brother have taken care of their left flank and Corrin and company the right one. The battle’s almost over, so she gets back up, straps her axe back onto her. She’ll polish it once they have downtime again.

 With an excited step, Scarlet turns around again.

“Good job spotting that, Dandy…”

A black horse is staring back at her with a nervous breath.

“…Lion…?”

It happens to have no rider.

 Urgency hurries through Scarlet’s every fibre, until she finally thinks about checking the ground. When she does, her jaw almost drops, but she clenches her teeth and runs to a crumpled body on the ground. Ignoring every feature, she puts her hand in front of the person’s nose and two fingers on their neck – air, a pulse, a groan of pain.

Good, he’s still alive (she doesn’t quite know what she’d have done if he hadn’t been). Now, for how long, she doesn’t know, and she doesn’t wish to find out. Time to bring him to safety and have someone who knows their way around with a staff do their magic.

 As delicately as she can, she picks Xander up in her arms as if carrying a bride. The irony isn’t lost on her, as removed as it is from the situation: she renounced to getting wed when she picked up a banner and threw her life into fighting for her land, yet there she is, carrying him like she’d have expected to be, when she was a little girl and she was allowed to dream.

Oh, but that was so long ago, she doesn’t know what she’s thinking about it. It’s not like she’d have looked as limp as Xander is right now, breathing almost impossible to see with how small the movement of his chest is. His skin is pale, the rings under his eyes darker than Siegfried, his limbs limp and fingers loose. In ways, she’s carrying a shadow, in others, a statue. In either case, her fingers feel like they could break something.

 Drops dripple down her shoes as she walks. The colour of her armour makes it hard to tell what it is, but the smell of iron never mistakes her. Xander’s would make it just as difficult, but whatever slashed him pierced through what was where, leaving skin and muscle naked for all to see and blood – a river of it, in fact, trailing behind them, and she wishes she could run.

The battlefield seems bigger than it was before and how does she regret not having Vaida by her side right about now. Xander’s horse can’t help them now, not with the sort of injury he has. For all she knows, it’d just make the blood loss happen faster – and gods, he’s already pale as is. Come to think of it, maybe his pallor never reminded her of the sheltered life she imagined the Nohr royals to have…

 A feeble voice calls her back to the sound of her footsteps crunching dying grass.

“Scar…”

“Keep your strength to yourself… Dandy-Lion.”

To her surprise, she sees him smile – one as delicate as his breath. It’s good enough, she thinks.

“I’m not too heavy, am I…?”

On second thought…

“You’re lighter than I expected, honestly.” She snickers. “Heh, if I had been told the High Prince of Nohr would worry about that on his deathbed, I wouldn’t have believed it, yet here we are!”

She hopes that, if he can focus on something else…

“I can’t be too worried if it’s you, can I…?”

Her face burns.

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?!” She snorts and chuckles. “Don’t make me laugh like that, there may still be enemies ‘round!”

Huh, his smile is loopy…

“Your presence… is reassuring…”

…and his cough isn’t getting better.

“What the…”

There is a thin trail of blood going down his lips and chin. Oh no.

“Scarlet, you’re…”

The good thing to do would be to make him spare his energy, but… despite it all, his voice…

“Shut up, I’m bringing you to a healer! You can tell me all ’bout it later!”

 She quickens her pace, despite the soreness in her legs and the way carrying someone tugs at her arms. Her pains are a minor thing compared to the man bleeding to death drop by drop in her embrace; and yes, she can’t call it anything else. Not when he calls her presence reassuring, not when she sees the way he makes her feel.

She clutches him closer to her, letting rust dripple down her breastplate, uncaring for any sort of aesthetic. Of course, this is a battlefield, and there’ll never be enough gemstones to make death and blood beautiful… but this is different, Scarlet finds. Everything around her is crimson, now, from the air she breathes to the skin she feels under soaked cloth.

If she could, she’d leave a peck on the forehead of a man who’s absolutely making it out of here.

 The rest of the road back to camp is long and silent. Xander’s breathing is a fragile thing, or so it feels, and he doesn’t rouse back to wakefulness. She regrets telling him to shut it, now, but if it’s so he can get some rest… then so be it.

She wonders what the scar she’s left him looks like – half out of pride, half out of shame… and a little bit of general curiosity. It’s impossible for her to tell what part of his silhouette is armour and what isn’t, sometimes, and she blames it on being starstruck.

…oh, she never even thought of Ryoma like that.

 The camp is now in view, with its white smoke and warm banners.

“Hey, Dandy-Lion…”

“Hmm…?”

“Is there someone you’re coming back to once this war’s over?”

He spits out some blood on the side. It’d have disgusted many, she supposes, but she appreciates the eternal reminder that, for all of his royal-ness, Dandy-Lion’s still a mortal at the end of the day. Makes him more approachable, more… lovable? (Oh gods).

“You mean… as a spouse…?”

“Yeah. So?”

“No… I cannot see myself take a wife… and neglect her as my father has…”

“You’re not your dad, ya big doofus. Pretty sure we’ve gone over that already.”

She isn’t quite sure what she expected he’d reply.

“Has someone… ever told you your honesty was refreshing…?”

She chuckles. For all of his princely ways, he isn’t above being embarrassingly adorable.

“Yes, you, that other time.”

“And you…?”

“Yeah?”

“Is someone… waiting for you back in Cheve…?”

She chuckles. Had the man she’s carrying in her arms the High Prince of Nohr, she’d have seen a reciprocal response there.

“Not in that way, no.”

“I see…”

His head lulls against her breastplate.

“You’ll be okay, Dandy-Lion. Just ya wait.”

“Oh, I know, Scarlet, I know…”

 She quickens her pace one last time, heart jumping up and down.

Xander lifts his head, painfully slowly, grunting under his breath. Aww…

“The camp’s not far. You’ll be fine.” It’s a little hard to believe when you see him bleeding, white like a sheet and eyes foggy, but if she isn’t here to believe in his recovery, then who will? “Sorry, by the way. If I hadn’t lost focus…”

“Peace, Scarlet… An injury is better than a death…”

“That’s true…”

“Isn’t it funny?”

“What would be?”

“That this is the second time you’re carrying me to safety…”

“Does the first time count, when it was just fixing my own mistake?”

He coughs when he chuckles with her, but he’s still with her.

“I’d say so…”

“Then guess it counts!”

 She steps into camp and, as gently as she can, gives her charge to a worried Camilla of Nohr, who, not unlike her, can carry Xander without grunting (gods, what little firecracker said really holds water). The horse, who she abandoned without meaning to, follows Camilla inside the camp, as diligently as it behaved when it was mounted.

Speaking of mounts, she’s missed Vaida very much. Maybe she can pay a visit to Dandy-Lion later, once she’s had a good conversation with her trusted wyvern about what to do when you seem to have a thing for the crown prince of the kingdom you’ve spent most of your life fighting against… oh, and once Dandy-Lion isn’t covered in crimson anymore. It’s not because beauty is never truly tarnished that she doesn’t want to see him soaked in his own blood.

She should start with cleaning her armour and weapons, actually… Blood doesn’t suit them either.

 It suits nobody, really.

[fromtheboundlesssea]

If Syrax is possibly the one who kills Vhagar, then maybe after that people start calling her “ The Queen Slayer” , given she would have killed current holder of title of “ Queen of All Dragons”. Same could apply if Syrax possibly takes down Meleys ( Red Queen). Again suggestion and of course don’t know what you have planned.

Possible titles of Syrax to gain, especially during the Dance and decades after : The Golden Mother, Queen Slayer ( If she kills either Meleys or Vhagar), Wyvern of War, Usuper of Dragons ( if she kills and technically “dethrones” Vhagar, as Queen of All Dragons), The Red Dragon’s ( Res King) Golden Bride.

We shall see.

[guilty-pleasure-writings]

I just read all of your The Wyvern's Bride chapters throughout the day, it was so good!!!! Can't wait for more whenever you get the chance. Also the Strade series is A+ 💖

I’m a happy clam reading this. Absolutely exuberant and content at the same time. Thank you non 🥹

[langwrites]

If I was going to put the Awakening crew's skill proficiencies into Three Houses terms...

Generally speaking, I go with the principle of "based on their reclass options in Awakening."

This only applies to the Shepherds who have shown up in Among Lions so far. This is, as always, my interpretation.

So, they break down a bit like this:

Aversa, who has only one promotion branch apiece with access to Swords, Staves, or Riding, has no skill bonuses in those areas. She's neutral on Authority because, despite being a character who's canonically killed her subordinates before (very marginally offscreen), seems confident enough in her tactical acumen to be why Gangrel's war effort didn't instantly implode.

She also has penalties in Heavy Armor and Bows, because she has no reclass options with access to either. She also has a penalty in Brawling because she's frankly the kind of person to reach for magic before punching anybody.

Her talents, instead, lie in Lances (Pegasus Knight promotion tree), Axes (Wyvern Rider promotion tree), Flying (both) and Reason. Strictly speaking, she could have access to the Faith proficiency (which is where Nosferatu is hanging out), but in Three Houses that stat is effectively an indicator of the character's faith in Fodlan's religion. This is an arena in which Aversa is...decidedly not winning any awards.

So, therefore:

Boons: Lances, Axes, Reason, Flying

Banes: Bows, Brawling, Heavy Armor

Budding Talent: N/A

With all that reasoning on the board, let's go faster for the others.

Morgan:

Boons: Swords, Lances, Axes, Reason, Flying

Banes: N/A

Budding Talent: Authority (tutored by her father)

In the Future Past DLC level of Awakening, Female Morgan is depicted as a Wyvern Lord as an antagonist. While manakete!Morgan doesn't start out with any weapon proficiencies, she has access to all of her dad's reclass options (barring the gender-locked ones), and then has Pegasus Knight (and Bride) on top of that.

Robin:

Boons: Swords, Axes, Reason, Authority

Banes: N/A

Budding Talent: N/A

The only classes Robin doesn't have access to are gender-locked. He is very good at doing almost anything the player needs him to do. This particular Robin is Speed-boon/HP-bane.

Henry:

Boons: Swords, Axes, Reason, Bows

Banes: Lances, Authority, Heavy Armor, Flying

Budding Talent: N/A

Henry's reclasses are the Thief and Barbarian lines, while his starting class is Dark Mage. This gives him access to bows in two unrelated promotions, swords in three, and axes in two. He can't be reclassed to a flying unit or one that wields lances, but he does have Dark Knight. And despite his aptitude for animals (in a warped Disney princess way), Minerva totally bit him once. Lastly, because Henry has the tactical acumen of a Molotov cocktail and an old habit of attacking allies when bored, he's got an Authority bane.

Lissa:

Boons: Lances, Reason, Faith, Riding, Flying

Banes: Bows, Brawling, Heavy Armor, Authority

Budding Talent: N/A

Lissa's base class is a Cleric, so she has to get a Faith boon pretty much out of courtesy. Her reclass options are Troubadour (Faith, Riding) and Pegasus Knight (Lances, Flying). She's actually short a promotion compared to some units, because Cleric and Troubadour can both promote into War Cleric. Still only counts as one. Lissa can't access armored classes or bows, and canonically wants nothing to do with leadership roles, and so she has Heavy Armor, Bow, and Authority banes. Just having a lot of potential training paths doesn't make her a balanced combatant when she also comes with absolutely garbage Strength and Defense.

Libra:

Boons: Axes, Reason, Faith

Banes: Bows, Brawling, Heavy Armor, Flying

Budding Talent: N/A

Libra only has four possible promotions, because his three base classes (Priest, Mage, Dark Mage) have overlapping options. At least one of them gets a horse?

Lon'qu:

Boons: Swords, Axes, Flying

Banes: Reason, Heavy Armor, Authority

Budding Talent: N/A

Lon'qu has three base classes: Thief, Myrmidon, and Wyvern Rider. His sole magical promotion, Trickster, is the only reason he doesn't have a Faith bane, and the same goes for Wyvern Rider and Lances. While Myrmidon and Thief both promote into Assassin, that still only counts as one Bow-using option.

Cordelia:

Boons: Swords, Lances, Reason, Flying

Banes: N/A

Budding Talent: N/A

The only class type Cordelia doesn't get access to is "armored," but Miss Multitalented still doesn't have any banes.

Olivia:

Boons: Swords, Lances, Flying

Banes: Axes, Brawling, Authority, Heavy Armor

Budding Talent: N/A

Olivia is all Speed, Skill, and Luck. She does have two reclasses, Myrmidon and Pegasus Knight, but her low Magic and meh Strength means she tends to be a supporter more than a fighter. Except for when she gets Lethality to work.

[outrealms-filth-factory]

Instant Digestion for Charlotte churning Camilla right before her Hubby's eyes. She won't be interrupting their honeymoon, and I bet Corrin loves where big sis wound up on his buxom bride!

It all happened so quickly, Camilla flew in like an angry wyvern about this 'forced marriage' and Charlotte stealing her brother away, and before anyone, Camilla included, had any idea what was going on Charlotte had swallowed her down the the hips.

Everyone watched in a mix of astonishment, concern and shock as Charlotte's dress ripped... her gut rapidly shrinking until it was an adorable paunch... and her breasts and ass billowing out.

Suffice to say yes... Corrin will be getting well acquainted with them. After Charlotte bids farewell to her would-be sister in law.