#There’s this one fic where the wardens go to the present times and I want him to meet clay. ‘is that my hat’ ‘no my peepaw gave it to me’

[stanleyvampire14]

Sorry Altair my favorite pearl clan member from pla took over look at him

Will eventually finish this, but I’m starting on the Altair drawing tomorrow! Maybe line this and color later after

Bro 100% yaps to his lord about the gems he finds in the caves

Someone give him a bath the amount of dirt on his clothes is PHENOMENAL

No I still can’t draw cowboy hats did you notice

Lian sweetheart I don’t think you should clean a rock axe you might get hurt

[eriochromatic]

Your impel down modern au is absolutely amazing is it okay to ask more about it ?

Like is Jinbei the legal guardian or is Garp around ? Is the Sabo situation like in canon?

What about the warden is he like the landlord ?

(If I ever get inspiration/time would you be down for this to be a fic ?)

Thank u for liking my AU! To be completely honest I intentionally didn’t add other one piece characters since I wanted to explore a different dynamic, so in this AU, Garp (or Shanks or Whitebeard for that matter) wouldn’t be around too much, Sabo also probably wouldn't be too present. 

For this AU specifically, the influential parental figures around Luffy and Ace are Jinbei (legal guardian), and then Crocodile (takes care of them when Jinbei is busy), and then the rest of the apartment residents when both Jinbei and Croc are occupied. The only other one piece chara I might consider adding in is Magellan as the landlord, but he’d be pretty hands off and not really part of the main dynamic anyways.

And of course, feel free to turn this into a fic if you’re feeling inspired! To be completely honest this AU in itself was inspired by a fic from a completely different fandom where they took a bunch of characters who never interacted w/ each other and put them all in an apartment together for a modern AU; Oda already did the job of getting random characters to work together so I just wanted to do the modern AU part!

Certain headcanons that I wasn’t able to add in the post itself:

Jinbei is a highschool teacher! The area they live in isn’t well funded so he probably doubles up as their guidance counselor as well,, he’s super busy which is why the rest of the apartment complex all collectively helps out watching the kids

Crocodile’s income bracket is technically a few steps above the others but because he’s paying 3 apartments worth of rent his quality of life ends up around the same LOL technically he could always move out but he’s too attached to everyone (would never admit it)

Drag race is still rupaul’s show in this universe and not Ivankov’s HAHAHA Ivankov is definitely more of an underground queen, almost urban legend like… But yeah they’re never home much so Inazuma has been using Ivankov’s apartment as a glorified storage unit for fabrics and outfits

Ace is still the grumpy kid like in canon, but having Crocodile around as a vaguely bad influence (“I am not going to stop you from committing violence” type) makes them strangely close… Croc is trans in this AU and if u wanted Ace to also be trans that can be another bonding point

Since Crocodile manages a casino (with a nightclub), Bentham has been pestering Croc to let him put on a drag show, so far Croc has been saying said no. Croc’s frame of reference is Ivankov (aka someone who’s waaaay to good) so unfortunately anyone who’s not at Ivankov’s level isn’t worth the effort of changing schedules and reorganizing things. Bentham has seen Crocodile proposition Daz constantly for that bouncer job so now there’s this weird one sided rivalry between Bentham and Daz lol

that’s about all the ideas I have for now! hope that was fun and interesting to read!

[mojo-bro-tho]

A Paean of Old and Present Days

Edit to include word count for AO3: 11,902 (I know)

I finally committed to posting the first 2 chapters of my emmrook fic with a Warden Rook! Still undecided on how I'll want to post the formatting for cross platform and since this first chapter is long as hell, (I'm so sorry) I'll be adding only a snippet below the cut in case it doesn't pique interest. I hope any who chose to read the full thing like it though! Warning can be found in ao3 tags and will be updated as needed.

A Warden In Name

Warden life wasn’t for most people. To be fair, most people don’t become Wardens with the reservations afforded to consider that fact. Sure, Recruits were common enough outside of a Blight but most wouldn’t take the first sip once the smell crushed their resolve. Lenore was never a traditional Warden though. 

She was chalk full of technicalities, hypocrisy, and at certain times unbridled foolishness. But if you asked the charges entrusted to her, a group of 7 Recruits, what they thought of their young leader? The answers were usually nothing short of praise, even though some of the praise could be seen as backhanded. 

Lenore was never the ‘leadership’ type, she did just fine with following orders and being led so long as the reasons made sense. Unfortunately for her and those aforementioned Recruits, tonight was shaping up to be one of those fateful exceptions. Even worse for the Recruits, Lenore was more accustomed to the taste of festering responsibility and would be more than willing to drink the chalice empty. 

She stood at the top of a building at the edge of town, watching the horde swirl below. She thought back to the moment that led her here. Orders from her Commander that a large stream of darkspawn was making an advance in the Deep Roads. Every Warden stationed under him was being deployed, Recruits included. While the majority of the experienced fighters would be sent out towards the nearest entrance, where they assumed the was legion heading, some smaller teams were deployed to secure neighboring settlements on the off chance of a breach or any splinter groups who may sneak past the vanguard. There shouldn’t have been any real danger, they were here as a precaution. But then the ground started to split open.

Lenore had sensed a shift in their movements, a cluster had veered off course into some sort of unmapped pocket of the Deep Roads. Or one that had been made recently. Her tendency to lean to the paranoid did her well in this case. She and the Recruits evacuated and barricaded the area she had sensed them congregating towards. That didn’t go over well with some of the more curmudgeon villagers, but Lenore could be persuasive for her age. Those who were smart enough to heed a Warden’s warning did well to help her charges with the barricade.

Still, having less than an hour to prepare meant it left plenty to be desired. A hodgepodge of commandeered doors, building materials, broken wagons, the more easily broken down structure of some farming buildings and sheds. If she had known the ground would split on its own, she would’ve had entire buildings broken down for parts. She was initially just worried about people interfering with the area. But this was as good as it was going to get, she supposed. A breath rushed in deep through her nose, hearing in her mind the hum of the blight getting louder and louder as they descended. Those barricades weren’t going to last much longer. 

The plan in place wasn’t too complicated, it just definitely wasn’t going to work as things stood. One Recruit, the best rider, would take off to the nearest outpost with the one horse afforded to her unit to send for reinforcements. The other’s would be divided up into rotating shifts. One group to watch the area and one to guard the amassed civillains. 

One archer and a mage wouldn’t be enough to take out a frenzy that big. They’d run out of arrows and lyrium before even making a good enough dent, Cecile’s quiver was already looking light. And going into the pit as infantry was a death sentence, no matter how good of a fighter one was. It didn’t help that the only shield bearers present were herself and another Recruit. The pit was too saturated with Blight and there wouldn’t be enough room to properly swing a sword. If they wanted a chance to actually slay the horde, they’d have to break part of the wall back down and hope the trickle that came through would be slow enough for them to pick off. Mass casualties were more likely.

The good news was that darkspawn weren’t incredibly smart. They all flooded in on the south facing wall, trying with all their claws and teeth to find a way up to gnaw at the archers with their backs to the villagers guarded by their fellow Recruits in the distance. All full of life and untainted blood. She could use that to her advantage. 

Cecile, Valwyn, and Hager held varying expressions. Staring into a cesspool of disgust and carnage would do that to anyone but they still stood firm. Lenore knew that if they all lived through this, those three at least would get a taste of what her dreams were like as a Warden. That taste might be enough to empty their stomachs of the whole thing. She would not blame them. Drawing her sword from her heightened position on the Town Hall, she called out to the three below.

“Hear me, soldiers! I’m calling for a retreat! Return to the village with the others and hold your ground.”

....

Link again in case this caught your fancy!

[idolbound]

DARP Advent 2024: Day Six HALFWAY THERE!

Let's talk about INFLUENCES and ADMIRATION!

Mun Portion!:

1. What inspired you to get into DARP? Former RP experiences? Just a love for the games?

I first got into RP in January 2013 with my Miranda Lawson blog and the Mass Effect rpc. I developed blogs for my Shepard among other characters, but it was shortly thereafter that the hype around DAI started; while I'd try to do DAO on console, I found it hard so I gave the copies to a friend and then bought them on PC later. But I played Inquisition at release in a speed run to kiss Cassandra, and made a blog for her ( @ stabbystabseeker for those who remember). I loved Cass a lot, enough that I didn't care that I had to play as a man to kiss her lol. Anyway, that's how I got into DARP - I also had blogs for my Hawke and Inquis when I eventually got through my canon playthrough of all the games from the beginning!

2. Name one (or a couple) of your fellow writers that you think are neat, and why! Can be famous, on Tumblr, in your real life, on AO3, whatever.

I would not be here half as much if it were not for @milfyclaus / (normally @ sanctamater). Claire has kept going with me to write this ship for almost 2 years now and has single-handedly made me want to keep writing Meredith unlike anyone or anything else; and to that, Claire, your writing always captures such a unique voice interlaced with exposition that I admire!

3. Has anyone in DARP (past or present!) really helped to define or reimagine a character for you? Or made you rethink perceptions that you held?

Honestly, Elisa with @extravagantliar has really fleshed out not just Varric but Kirkwall, and all the careful intricacies of worldbuilding that go with it. I would also say honestly, Erran @thesxmmersword who may not rp Ser Cauthrien anymore, but they really took an NPC in DAO and fleshed her out so well, and added much more depth to another morally questionable woman, and we started shipping these two from a what if meme and let it go from there.

4. What other fandoms/works/writers have influenced your writing style and the way that you view writing and creative expression?

Honestly, I think I still draw on a lot from Mass Effect and some of the themes around moral decisions, and the weight of those choices, as well as fighting in the name of something or someone that we see in DA as well. Truthfully, I have not been able to read a lot for fun because it's basically my job to read while doing my doctorate, but I do love a lot of fiction that can convey serious themes in the body of its work. I have a book that I got at a vendor sale that I'm excited to read, titled "This is How You Lose The Time War" by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone.

5. Do you have any friends that have created a Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor/Rook that you've basically adopted?

I guess 'adopted' in the sense that we, as good friends, have made all our Rooks connected. I've talked about this on my multi but basically, my Rook's maternal uncle Jar has a husband named Alain, and together, they are the adoptive fathers of Chels' qunari Rook, Oskaar. Alain has an adoptive elf sister named Kahari and that's Ker's Rook. We are slowly fleshing out their family shenanigans.

6. What's a fandom work (writing, art, etc) that you think is super cool and you wish more people would see it? Share it with us!

Again, see the above point where I don't often have a lot of time to read for fun - this extends to fanfics as well. But honestly, I have a few ... m-rated fics featuring Meredith that have been a bit of inspiration to me in the past lol. (if you DM me, I will link them but this is a "we listen and we don't judge" situation).

Muse Portion!:

1. Who or what are some things/powers/people that your muse admires?

Meredith herself is always drawn to power; typically, this is in a political / leadership sense, as well as physical strength and abilities. Again, typically she will not care much for men in this role, but when it comes to women? She can admire a good swordswoman, or a woman in a political role with great influence. She will always admire someone who is career-driven, and seeking to better themselves, especially for fellow women.

2. Does your muse have a "hero" that they look up to from canon?

I think Meredith is very much a history nerd just as much as she is a religious zealot, but when it comes to historic figures vs. her personal beliefs, she will always hold Andraste as her most powerful "hero" to look to. She models herself after Andraste, after all, to look like her and to embody her sense of JUSTICE.

3. What legends, tales, or stories helped to form your muse's ideas of power and heroism?

Definitely the Chant of Light. Taken in as a ward of the Chantry as a child, she was educated through their teachings, and grew up entrenched in the Chant of Life. It is what dictates her life, and it guides her; those are the stories she turns to, to guide herself as Knight-Commander and beyond.

4. Conversely, what sort of legends, tales, or stories formed their idea of what a villain is?

To her, her own sister's story of being an untrained mage acts well enough to know that magic is the evil within, and that mages are inherently villains until they take responsibility for themselves and what the Maker has cursed them with.

5. Are there other muses in DARP that your muse admires? Or reviles/fears? (be careful with that second one and be RESPECTFUL.)

@milfyclaus Lady Amelia is her... (homoerotic) business partner (a forge supplying silverite weaponry to the Templar Order) turned wife girlfriend in their time in Kirkwall. @kirkwll Sioned has tested (and continues to test) Meredith's patience on the daily. and with our thread still in infancy, Meredith very much admires the man @tobebrutal 's Cullen is becoming. That's her son and Knight-Captain!

6. If your muse is someone who has companions or is one of the groups of companions from canon, how do they and their companions play off of each other? Are they friends? Enemies? Two dudes who'd cross the street to avoid each other? What are their most powerful connections within their "group"?

Unfortunately, Meredith as an Inquisitor is awful and most people rightfully don't like her. lol.

[spiritsong]

Good luck with your doctor's appointment!

For the Rook ask game 🍃 and/or 🌹

thank you so much 😭💞 it went well!!

I don't see the green falling leaves; if you meant the autumnal ones, I answered that here :)

As forrrrrr 🌹... sorry for replying late, this one I really had to stop and think about (which is a good thing because it helped me figure out some fic stuff)!

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Loretta isn't prone to arguing (unless it's an academic debate or she's dealing with someone like the First Warden), especially with the people she cares about. She's a cautious person, so when she's presented with a viewpoint she doesn't necessarily agree with, she will take the time to try and see where the other person is coming from. Loretta and Lucanis are very similar in many ways, one of the biggest being that they are both realists, goal-oriented, and are focused people. They don't (usually) allow personal anxieties and other emotional baggage get in the way of what needs to be done. They cut through the bullshit to follow the path that is most likely to lead to success. This means they generally agree with each other on most decisions and issues. (They share this quality with Davrin, which is why the three of them grow to be incredibly close.) The first proper fight they have takes place after Bloodbath. Lucanis, gripped by his feelings of helplessness and panic, draws some of his blood into a vial and essentially pushes it into Loretta's hands. A safety measure — if he and Spite go off the deep end, Loretta can use this to bind him. Blood magic. (He doesn't even actually want this, he just doesn't know what else to do.) Lucanis knows that Loretta's opinions on blood magic are more neutral than the average person — it's primarily used for nefarious purposes, but doesn't have to be; she doesn't enjoy the way that people conflate necromancy with blood magic. That's about it, but she doesn't practice it. She's not even that upset about the blood magic aspect, though it leaves a bad taste in her mouth as it reminds her of the practices used to subjugate southern mages. (Not to mention what had been done to Lucanis in the Ossuary.) Mainly, she's freaked out that anyone would trust her to this extent. It's the kind of emotional intimacy and vulnerability that she has never experienced before and she can't really comprehend it. The other big issue is that Loretta still has faith that Lucanis and Spite are not there yet, and this is where the main fight comes in, because Lucanis is almost certain he will hurt someone he cares about and doesn't understand why Loretta can't see that.

[anosrepasi]

So I'm having Nil thoughts. Take a portion of a fic that will eventually be finished and make it's way to AO3.

--

The new cell in Sunstone Rock is completely dark except for an hour each day when the sun’s light aligns with the air tunnels built into the deep rock and the light can trickle down to his cell, dusty and dim. He doesn’t know this on the first day, and doesn’t think of it as fact until the fifth.

Janeva tells him that the room is used for “temporary relocations,” that the violent and the bloodthirsty go in and come out docile, one way or another- that man is not supposed to exist so long in the dark.

They say this as they stand at the threshold of the cell as he stands in the middle of the space, straining his eyes to see as much as he can with the light that floods in from the hallway and the open door. The warden’s voice brings his attention back to them.

He tilts his head at them and asks if this is a temporary relocation.

The warden levels him with a blank stare. “That’ll depend on you, I guess.”

They close the door and the only light in the cell becomes the thin stripe falling across the floor from the eyeslot where Janeva currently regards him. “Either way, you can’t keep killing your cellmates. The Sun King can’t “rehabilitate” you all if you’re killing everyone else imprisoned here with you.”

They slide the panel closed and leave him to the dark.

It doesn’t take him long to pace the entire length of the cell, mapping out the meager features in his mind and spinning around a few times and fumbling around until he’s confident in his surroundings. He finds himself propping himself against a wall, chilly to the touch in contrast with the heat of the cell.

He spends the first however unknown amount of time contemplating his temporary relocation and the charges landed by the Warden.

They are right, technically, he has killed every fellow prisoner they have placed in his cell. His confusion stems from what else they expected from him. He is a tool for killing- killing people, preferably. Were they not wanting him to kill the prisoners?

…why in the sun’s name did they put them in his cell then?

His mind goes in circles trying to detangle the paradox presented to him. Logically, he knows it’s possible to coexist in a space with another person, he trained in the barracks like every other soldier of the Sundom. He hasn’t shared a space since then, however, nearly two decades prior. They had assigned him his own tent since his first campaign, out of reward or fear he had never bothered to learn. The other soldiers kept their bunking with shared tents. He had never thought to question why his treatment was different, it just was. It had suited him fine enough.

And now he had been assigned a cell in a similar fashion. But Warden Janeva said it like it was.. a punishment? To be honest, the solitude and the darkness appealed to him. But again, he could recognize that his experience wasn’t everyone’s truth.

He could see boredom becoming a problem.

But that was equally a problem in his previous lodgings.

Perhaps that’s the true root of the problem. Being “rehabilitated” as the Sun King so decreed is rather… tedious. Like waiting for a table of commanders to finish arguing over a table of paper and wooden tokens instead of just letting him take to the field.

He is not a creature of words or theories. The maps and mile markers on a general’s table will not win a war: his hands around enemy throats will prove far more effective.

He sighs in the dark, feeling foolish.

He’s getting worked up about a conflict that’s been supposedly laid to rest–getting attached to that particular avenue of bloodshed is pointless.

Perhaps he’s made a miscalculation on what exactly is required of him for “rehabilitation.” Well, at least he’ll have a question for the Warden when they return.

He’s so caught up in his thought he almost misses the flash of movement to his left.

He reacts on instinct, his right hand darting out to catch whatever threat has suddenly appeared and lets out a bur mused laugh as his right hand clamps down on his own left wrist. He must have been gesturing with his hands while he was thinking.

He strains his eyes in the murky dark and can just barely make out the outline of his hand and wrist, suddenly visible if barely in the dark. He watches, with vague curiosity, as the darkness slowly, slowly recedes into dim light–never enough to illuminate the cell or completely thaw his hand out from the shadows, but it’s enough to recognize general shapes and edges in the dark.

Curious.

Janeva had said the cell was entirely dark.

Wasn’t that the point of the supposed punishment? Scare the people of the sun with unending shadows? Not that he felt particularly threatened.

He stands, turning to observe the wall he had previously been sitting against. It’s indistinguishable from the rest of the darkness he puts his hands to work instead– running his fingers over the stone until he finds a gap. He finds it rather quickly, roughly the same hight as the base of his breastbone, slightly above where his head rested against the wall.

He squats down and presses his face to the wall, allowing his eyes to focus and find the angle of the gap. He’s rewarded with the sight of a small stone tunnel chiseled into the rock with a width no larger than the circle of his own wrist. The tunnel ends some distance into the thick rock foundation, highlighted at the end with a bright light from an unseen opening above it.

He watches the stone tunnel until his body is still and the light at the end dims away completely, leaving the room once again left in utter darkness, the outline of his hand before just a memory of sight.

Huh.

Did they design the cell to do that?

Or is it just an unintended consequence of nature, much like him himself?

He resumes his former contemplations, his thoughts returning like clockwork machines to the temporary diffusion of light, and he quietly eats the meal provided sometime later, waving off the questions of the guards outside as he returns to his newly designated spot along the wall.

Eventually, he sleeps. He’s awakened at some point by the sound of the door opening, Janeva standing once again at the doorway.

He has to blink away the tears at the light that streams into the room from behind the warden’s silhouette. It’s surprising, how quickly he’s become accustomed to the dark. “Warden.”

“Prisoner.” The reply evenly. “It’s been a day to the hour since we left you in here, hopefully the experience has been enlightening.”

He stores away that information, cataloguing a general sense of how much time has passed since he first walked into the cell and assigning a sense of a “Day” to the passage of the time. In the dark it’s impossible to tell time, but between the short hour of dim light and the meal served sometime before he slept a day having passed sounds rather reasonable.

The Warden continues, “Are you going to kill your next cellmate?”

“Yes.” He is honest, if nothing else.

The Warden sighs.

They turn and the door closes behind them. “As I said yesterday, this is all dependent on you. I’ll speak with you again tomorrow.”

Well, that answers one of his questions. They really do not want him killing the other prisoners they keep putting into his cell. Huh.

[bumblerhizal-art]

2023 Writing Roundup

thanks for tagging me @shivunin! this is a cute little game and real test of my sloppy bookkeeping XD

words posted: 44,806 (Ao3)

additional words written: 5370 (google drive) and i have so many misc scrawlings handwritten in journals or lost in my notes app or god knows wherever else but i will not be hand counting any of those ty 😅

grand total of words: 50,176

fandoms: Mostly Dragon Age! But also a little token Legend of Zelda and Dungeons & Dragons, and if we're including unpublished, i've also written a tiny bit of BG3 and Fire Emblem

highest kudos: Blood Lotus at 19 kudos

highest hit oneshot: Tangled at 209 hits

new things I tried: this was my first time doing any sort of longfic (which 30k may not qualify by all people's standards but definitely by mine)

fic I spent the most time on: Rites of Passage is the longfic in question! It was one i had brought with me from the previous year and continued to spend a lot of time on, and now it's my longest published work

fic I spent the least time on: Diminishing Returns was written i think across maybe 1 or 2 afternoons

favorite thing I wrote: To Aid and Abet It's a hard choice, but in the interest of not repeating fics here... 😅 For this one, i got to combine apostate!Soris and baby Tabris shenanigans! Technically for a prompt but still so self-indulgent XD

favorite thing(s) I read: Oh boy, i did a terrible job of reading this year and even worse at keeping track of the ones i did find the time to sit down for. So this is more of a splash of fics published/updated this year by the two mutuals i read the most because the only course of action i can think of is to go to their Ao3 accounts

The Battle of Ostagar by Heniareth (23,773 words): Astala Tabris wakes after her Joining in the Warden encampment at Ostagar. As the battle approaches, she negotiates her employee contract and spies on war tables. Then, when the darkspawn forces arrive, it all goes to shit. Multiwarden

The Naming Day by Heniareth (3,469 words): Zevran and Astala Tabris's adopted children learn about naming days. On the first one they get to celebrate, the naming day girl has a delightful time on her treasure hunt while her younger brother struggles to communicate through his still-limited sign language why he is so worried

Have Warden, Will Travel by wild_houseplant (244,394 words): Autistic Warden recruits Zevran. Shenanigans ensue. Follows the Blight through Zevran's POV with a focus on his relationship with Rhodri Amell. Disclaimer that i am not caught up

Fruit shopping for the remarkably well-moneyed by wild_houseplant (497 words): Is it cheating to list a fic that was gifted to me? A cute little scenario around our BG3 multiplayer wherein my noble Ellyrian gets made the butt of the joke for having zero sense of personal economics

writing goals for 2024: I want to keeping track of my writing throughout the year in such a way that next December i can do an end-of-year wrap up where i can present an excerpt from each month i've written like how i already do with my drawings (also continue writing and publishing in general so i can make my spreadsheet beautiful!)

new works: 11

[thatdragonzeek]

New stuff I’ve thought of over the past week for the Suspect One AU (working title) !!!

It’s basically an entire plot line so!!

Spoiler stuff ahead!

Ya know how Akari gets dropped into Hisui with the Arc Phone and the mission to “seek out all Pokemon”??

YEAH, SO

That, but Ingo and Arc Transceiver (his xtransciever is it wasn’t obv) and his mission is!!

“Protect my champion” or something like that

“champion” used in the terms of like “one who fights on behalf of someone else” That champion is Akari!!

Ingo still loses his memories, but the Arc Transceiver tells him his purpose, and while he doesn’t know who this champion is yet, he knows that’s what he’s supposed to do

stuff continues on as usual, Ingo quickly becomes part of the Pearl Clan and becomes Lady Sneasler’s Warden not long after

About a month after Ingo arrived, Akari arrives, however

She is a small child, like think 2 or 3 yrs old, starting to talk, but not yet forming coherent words or sentences

She has the Arc Phone, and seeing as it has the same symbol as the one on his Arc Trans, he knows immediately that this is the so called champion.

The Phone is just,,,, blank. doesn’t turn on, but we are DERAILING HERE SO

Akari ends up w the Pearl Clan. No one knows why this literal CHILD has fallen from the rift, and no one knows what to do with her. She has no name or guardian

Before he figures out about the Arc Phone, Ingo is sympathetic for the child. He sympathizes w/ her, but he’s not sure how to care for a child, so when Irida suggest it (”she’ll need someone who understands what it’s like to not know where she’s from” or some other logic, haven’t fully thought out that interaction)

So he tells her he’ll think abt it, fully intending to flat out refuse, and just goes back home to Lady Sneasler. He ends up seeing the glowing Pokemon (arceus) who “gave” him the Arc Trans in his dream that night, and it just repeats, “protect my champion” and Ingo is like “???? Who? Is that?”

It happens twice more before Arceus realizes how dense this idiot is and goes “oh my ME, the CHILD”

Ingo is hesitant at first to take her in but he??? does?? and he calls her Akari (it just felt like a good fit)

Yes this is a dad Ingo AU, and it literally took reading ONE FIC with dadgo in it for me to go “HOW COULD I FIT THIS IN THE AU?”

Anyways, Irida gives him the Arc Phone when he takes her in and it just stays in a drawer for ages while Akari grows up

fjhejkunhukchnek this text post is jumping all over the place in terms of chronology but jkfhkjef idc!

The first time Ingo runs into Melli again after adopting Akari, it’s just “there is a child on your back” “yes” “???????” “yes” and Melli doesn’t bring it up ever again, Ingo just has a daughter now, okay??

Time jump 9 or 10 years to the point the main part of the fic actually takes place in, the Arc phone eventually activated, giving Akari her mission.

Ingo doesn’t tell her immediately. At this point, Akari is like 12/13, and Ingo has become fairly protective of his daughter. But she finds the device and he explains to her what it is

After a week of constant nagging, he finally caves and she joins the Survey Corps (I know the game states “you look to be around 15″ but like I’m gonna ignore that and make it 13. Akari’s actual age is not known. They assume her to be around that age, so they’re like “yeah sure”)

Her first Pokemon is one of Lady Sneasler’s children. She literally hands just an egg to Akari. The Professor still gives her one of the PLA Starters because you cant battle with an EGG.

She chooses Oshawott, coz Dawn uses a water starter and also Dark type helps against Psychic type, which is good against Sneasel’s Fighting type and I want her to have a balanced team so technically Oshawott is her first mon?? Pax the Hisuian Sneasel becomes her main Pokemon so

She was raised in ancient Hisui rather than present Sinnoh, so she has some semblance of responsibility, but she still has a natural gift for catching Pokemon, plus with her dad being a great battler and battle strategist, she’s got that going for her, too

Also because Ingo raised her, she’s picked up some of his mannerisms, like the pointing, train terminology, saying incomprehensible (to other Hisuians) shit like “All Aboard”

No inside voice w Akari, she was raised by the loudest person in all of Unova

A few months after she’s joined the survey corps, Emmet arrives with the help of a certain time traveling pokemon, and said pokemon get’s injured

Akari finds him, thinking from a distance “was that my dad???” but realizes it’s not

She’s heard her father talk of a memory of “a man who looks like him, but in white” as well as that Zoroark often try to trap him w this

Naturally she is cautious, is this a zoroark? But he doesn’t ask for her father, and he has an injured pokemon, so she decides, “screw it, lets help him, Lady Sneasler will be able to tell if he’s a person”

And she is! After she does a double take because !! That is her Warden? But it’s not?? Is it??

“my dad is a warden, he’ll help your friend”

One of the funniest things is that, like, in the years they’ve been existing in the highlands, Ingo and Melli have somewhat become friends

mostly Melli just needed someone to complain to and Ingo was the only person around

he actually listens, too! unusual for melli

Melli has definitely developed some sort of crush and uses every excuse to be in his personal space

Ingo, despite not liking physical contact much (autism Ingo go brr), has grown accustomed to his fellow warden just draped over him in a dramatic fashion complaining about e v e r y t h i n g

Also personal headcanon time! I see Melli as AFAB nonbinary he/him. he uses cloth wraps to bind, and has trained his voice to be more masculine sounding

He often hangs out at Ingo’s house when his binding wraps have been washed and/or are drying because he knows Ingo will call him by his proper pronouns regardless

that info all adds up to a glorious scene that i am drawing where Emmet and Akari arrive at a time when Melli is Not Binding, but is draped over Ingo in his dramatic fashion.

Akari excitedly greets her dad and Melli (she def knows about Melli’s crush. she approved)

Meanwhile Emmet’s brain is just short circuiting while he takes everything in

Melli with blue hair, who is draped over Ingo

Ingo with silver eyes, who hates physical contact, who has been missing for 10 years, and who always liked the name Akari

Akari, who has blue-black hair and grey eyes, looks to be around ten years old, and has greeted Ingo as “Dad”

not to mention her Pokemon is clearly the pre-evo to Lady Sneasler, who’d greeted Ingo as though she were his Pokemon

He has no idea what is actually happening but suddenly he’s like “omg he has a family back here he is never going to want to come home why didn’t i look into if he had a family”

Meanwhile Ingo Does Not Recognize Him(tm) and upon seeing the injured Celebi, he just carefully takes it from a very still, very unresponsive Emmet and immediately starts to administer care to it

Emmet’s arrival in Hisui is what triggers the frenzy of the nobles

IT IS 10:50 PM I AM GOING TO BED BUT YEAH ENJOY ALL OF THOSE

[waywardstation]

Ingo-keshi Doll

Akari makes a special handmade gift for Ingo.

I made a post earlier about writings I had made, but this one slipped my mind until I opened my notes app to work on another fic.

It’s very short, but it’s finished, so I thought I would post it! It’s very simple, it involves Ingo, Akari, and Pokeshi dolls!

I also really like the thing everyone’s doing where they say they bring their Pokémon out to show to Ingo in their games, so I added a little of that too!

OR read it on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

————

“Ingo, look!”

The warden turned towards Akari as she ran towards him across Jubilife’s training grounds.

By her excitement and her words, Ingo assumed Akari was coming to show him another Pokémon she caught.

The young girl had been doing that a lot lately, bringing a variety of different Pokémon to introduce to him, for different reasons.

Sometimes, she would bring him an extra round Spheal, or an excitable Cherrim, because “it’s so cute!!!”

Other times, she would bring out a rather large specimen of Shellos, or Goomy.

“Look at this one!” She would say. “They were the alpha of a group I found!”

And rarely, Akari would return to show him Pokémon he had not recalled seeing in the region before, like a Cranidos or a Porygon.

“They came from those Distortions!” she would explain.

But each time, Ingo congratulated her on her accomplishments, inspecting the Pokémon she would present as she would go on and on about them.

Akari enjoyed the praise she got whenever she showed Ingo a Pokémon she had caught that she was particularly proud of, and Ingo enjoyed the fact that he was the person that she wanted to share her accomplishments with. He started really looking forward to her visits to see what new Pokémon she had to show.

“Hello Miss Akari!” The warden greeted her as she reached him. He noted she had a hand behind her back, which was new. Curious…

“What new Pokemon do you have to show me today?”

“It’s not a Pokémon this time!” The young girl giggled, her smile even wider than usual. She seemed unusually excited.

Ingo’s curiosity only deepened.

Akari finally revealed what she had been hiding behind her back, holding it up for Ingo to see.

It was…a tiny wooden figure?

“I made it!” The girl explained. “It’s a Pokeshi doll! Anvin at the Craftworks shop showed me how to make them!”

Ingo gently took the figure and examined it, turning it around in his hands.

There were no sharp edges, everything had been smoothed nicely. The coats of paint were nice and even too.

Akari really had been making a lot of Pokeshi dolls to make one of such high quality.

That, or she was artistically gifted, which judging by the drawings he’d seen her add to her Pokédex, he wouldn’t doubt.

It had a coat that was painted black and red…was that his coat?

And that was his hat! It even had the emblem on it correctly detailed.

Akari had really made a pokeshi doll of him?

“They’re really fun to make, so I’ve been making a lot of them for people!” Akari told the warden as he admired her handiwork. “So I thought I’d make one for you too!”

Turning the figure back over, Ingo noticed the details in its face. The hair, the goatee…even the lines under his eyes(he wouldn’t have minded if she left that detail out though-). she got everything right!

Instead of an off-putting frown that he had partly expected though, the figure had been given a small smile.

Ingo’s heart filled with warmth, and his own neutral frown grew into a smile, mirroring the figure.

In all his time in Hisui, no one had ever given him anything as personal as this handmade gift.

“Bravo Miss Akari!” The warden exclaimed as he held the figure up. “Your handiwork is flawless! This figure looks just like me!”

“It’s like your little twin!” Akari clapped her hands, ecstatic at Ingo’s reaction to his gift.

The word “twin” tugged on Ingo’s brain unexpectedly, and his posture tightened, but soon the gratitude in the moment came back as the tug loosened its grip, fading back into obscurity with the rest of his lost memories.

“Thank you for this gift, Miss Akari,” Ingo spoke, shifting his focus from the figure to the young girl. “This is very special to me, and I will keep it safe!”

By the expression on Akari’s face, Ingo judged over the coming days, she would be making more Pokeshi dolls for him.

[jossambird]

Your echo across Time

After multiple asks for this, I present you all with an alternative version of my previous Ingo fic, Losing you across time!

This version follows the idea the Y/N did everything Arceus asked of her, with no happy ending.

Ingo x F! Reader

Words: 2.3k

Warning: Mentions of blood, mentions of cuts, mild violence (Volo basically), angst, pain™️, Implied death.

Losing you across Time Part 1

Ingo often wondered what would happen after you had saved all of Hisui. Would you return to your time? Would he remain here, alone, a stranger in strange lands just like he had been before your arrival?

Would you aid him into going home as well? He already knew the answer to that question though, knowing in his heart that the promise you had made with him had been true.

“Don’t worry Ingo! Ill find a way for the both of us to go home!” You had spoken in the quiet night, smiling as you pet the Noble Braviary, Lady Sneasler seated beside you.

“If we do, will you take me out for coffee and cheesecake? I hear Unova has the best cheesecake in the world.”

He hadn’t understood your words but he had agreed nonetheless, determined to provide you with whatever you asked of him, just to be able to see your radiant smile.

“And if anything happens, don’t worry, okay? Ill find a way.”

The red crackling sky above him had never truly let him forget just how heavy the burden laid on your shoulders, how weighty of a duty you had. The dark circles under your eyes had seemed to darken with time, the cuts on your body never truly seeming to fully heal before new ones appeared in their stead. Too many times had you come to him at the Training Grounds, smiling so beautifully but seeming so very tired, so so very exhausted.

It also hadn’t helped that Lady Sneasler seemed just as worried as he felt, always attentive when you called upon her but always returning as if she had seen a ghost.

But today, as he watched the blue sky and soft white clouds hanging in the sky, news had travelled throughout Hisui that you had completed the entire Pokedex. You hadn’t told anyone else of the mysterious and magical device always at your hip but he knew, knew what its message had been, knew you were about to go face off a God, a literal Pokemon Deity, and beg for the both of you to be returned to your time.

Ingo deeply regretted not having spoken up about his feelings towards you sooner; so many times had he had the opportunity to whilst the both of you had walked together or trained your Pokemon. So many times had he wanted to seize the moment and kiss you, to whisper against your lips how utterly in love he was with you… But he never had, fear always coursing through him at the thought of losing your beautiful friendship. Would he be forced to watch you settle down with someone, so in love and happy without him?

It was quiet today, far too quiet. Ingo didn’t expect the heavy footfalls behind him, for Lady Sneasler to seek him out, panic in her wide eyes as she rushed forward, trying to get his attention with yips and growls.

“My Lady, what is it? Whats wrong?” He asked, watching as the Noble Pokemon pointed a large claw at Mount Coronet, trying to make the human man before her understand.

It wasn’t until Lady Irida came running after the Pokemon did he know something was wrong, a feeling of bitter bile crawling its way up his throat at the sight of her hands stained with dark liquid as she yanked him into a run up the mountain-

Where were you?

“Warden Ingo! Hurry, come!” Irida shouted whilst she continued running, cursing aloud as she almost slipped, pulling the Warden behind her.

“L-Lady Irida, what is going on?!”

“Adaman and I went to assist Y/N but Volo, that slimy Gingko merchant betrayed her! He summoned another almighty Pokemon, she’s battling him as we speak!”

.

..

.

Your mind drifted as you watched Volo try to attack your Pokemon, your Alpha Gengar guarding you behind its massive body. Your sluggish thoughts wandered to the strange Warden you had grown to deeply love, wondering faintly if you’d see him again. You regretted not having showed up at his tent the night before to confess your feelings to him like Melli had told you to do. You couldn’t help the smirk that crawled onto your lips, practically hearing Melli complain in your mind.

As Volo’s Garchomp attacked your protective Gengar, you scolded yourself; you should have ridden Braviary and gone to see him, you should have knocked on his door and kissed him, pulling him close and feeling his gray locks in between your fingers. You should have spilled your heart out to him and told him how his eyes reminded you of the gentle snow falling from the sky, how his blushed red face made your heart race, or how his hesitant but gentle, innocent touches made you want to hug him forever and never let go.

But you hadn’t. You hadn’t, and here you stood, feeling the life slowly escape you, blood trickling down your hip and hand, watching passively as Giratina emerged from behind the terribly beaten Volo.

It almost terrified you how identical the moment was to your recent dream. Was this finally the dream that would happen?

You didn’t know when your prophetic dreams had truly begun; sometimes, you would dream that you stood here and watched Volo as he violently won against you, a manic expression on his face whilst he stole the Plates in your pack and Giratina expanded and howled into the sky, black clouds circling around it as your vision went dark.

Other times, it was you who won against the both of them, your Pokemon furiously beating the violent mythical Pokemon God of Antimatter before capturing it in a Pokeball, swearing to seal the Pokeball away forever.

Your old vacation shirt and jean shorts clung to your skin, tainted red from the cuts you had sustained. A silent laugh escaping your dried lips at the irony…

In your dreams, no matter how strange and dark and twisted they became, they always had one thing in common.

You never did return to your own time.

But you were okay with that, because in all of them, he did.

.

..

.

Winds began to pick up harshly as both Ingo and Irida raced to the top of Mount Coronet, the destroyed rubble of the Temple of Sinnoh still laying haphazardly across the ground.

The image of an immobile Adaman came into view as they raced to the top, silence reigning around them. Dark liquid stained the Temple’s ground, droplets and stains scattered across the stone flooring.

The sight of Volo’s prone body against the stone ground also didn’t escape their sights.

“Adaman, where is Y/N?!” Irida shouted at the man, stopping in her tracks as he turned towards her. Something akin to fear laid in his eyes, face pale as he opened his mouth, nothing coming out for a brief moment as he tried to collect himself.

“She- it took her… The God- The real one! Arceus- it took her. Her Celestica Flute changed and she played it.. She just- vanished.” The Leader of the Diamond clan whispered but it rang loudly into the air around them, stunning Ingo in his place. Head held in his hands, Adaman grew silent.

Arceus? The Pokemon God Arceus had taken you? He could barely understand his own thoughts as he tried to process what was happening and what exactly had already happened. It didnt take long for him to receive somewhat of an answer, Adaman turning back to observe the prone body of Volo.

“He tried to- Volo, he attacked her, tried to steal those plates from her and her Pokemon protected her-“ The Diamond Clan Leader rambled before swallowing his words, trying to force the shock out of his body, trying desperately to get the scene he’d just witnessed across.

“He was the one responsible for the Frenzied Nobles and your arrival, Warden Ingo…”

.

..

.

The sound of your ragged breath was lost in the sound of attacks barreling past you, barely avoiding them, blood from your cuts dripping and staining whatever ground you stood on. Balm after balm, you hurled them at the God before you, furious at its incomprehensible attitude. Didn’t it understand that you’d had a life before this? Parents, a pet, family, people you knew since childhood, neighbours that you loved; all were gone now, far from being born in the time you now inhabited.

“You- You summoned me here to save Hisui! You summoned me, ripped me away from my life and I did it! I beat Volo and captured Giratina and I did everything you asked of me”! You wailed, tears streaming down your face, furious eyes focused on the Being before you. You felt cold inside, so very cold, knees shaking as the reality of the situation fully dawned on you.

You were never supposed to go back.

“Please! Look, I don’t care, Ill stay here, Ill stay forever but please, please sent him back!” Was bargaining even worth it? It seemed to pay off, the God turning its unblinking eyes away from you before bowing its head.

With all your might, you threw the last Balm into its face, light blinding you suddenly as you yelled out.

.

..

.

Too many times did he hear your laughter ring out every time a car honked near him, turning to try and catch a glimpse of your beautiful face. He could practically hear the sounds of your gentle crying in the busy Unova streets, the sound you had made one fateful night while nursing a burn wound you’d sustained while on your adventures.

Somedays, he swore he heard his name being called out, called out as if… far away, as if you were close, but far, far enough for him not to see you in the crowd around him.

As if… from long ago, echoing across time.

On days like today, rain falling from the dark, he remembered the things you’d once said in Hisui, things that at the time he had not understood, but now he did.

Now, he understood what you meant whilst looking up at the starry night sky alongside him, the worry and burdens upon your shoulders disappearing for a brief moment.

“A sky unpolluted by light.. Its amazing. No skyscrapers, no planes, no apartment complexes; nothing in the way. I miss the sound of rain and the busy streets, cars honking and vendors yelling.”

.

..

.

“Brother?” Emmet called out to him silently, searching briefly before making his way towards his frozen form.

Before both twins stood a glass case, a haunting image staring back at the eldest twin.

You smiled, eyes practically twinkling through the image, imitating his pose, your Pokemon and his surrounding you. His Tangrowth had wrapped its tentacles around you, holding you into the air as if to show you off.

“Savior of Hisui, Member of the Galaxy Team Y/N and her Pokemon team.” Emmet repeated the words written under the picture, eyeing the items placed under them.

No husband accompanied you in the picture, nor a child, simply you and both his and you Pokemon. With practically no other information anywhere, Ingo looked around before finally finding what he needed.

“Pardon the intrusion, Did- Did the Heroine of Hisui ever marry?”

The Museum worker stammered as he turned, recognized just who exactly it was that had spoken behind him. Surprise coloring his visage at the question from the famed Unovian Subway Boss Ingo.

“Ah, sir, what a delight to have you and your brother here today in our Museum! To answer your question, no, actually, Y/N the hero of Hisui never did marry nor have children.”

He approached Ingo, eyes turning to look around before whispering lowly.

“I hear that somewhere in a Museum in Galar, photographs of the Heroine of Hisui were published. If I recall correctly, they had been taken by a man named Pro-���

“Professor Laventon,” Ingo finished for the man before realizing his own error, nodding as the worker commented on it.

“Oh a fan of history I see! Yes, Professor Laventon was a Pokemon Researcher at the time. I think he acted as a father figure for the Heroine. I should not be deterring you from our showcase but I know a curious mind when I see one.” The worker whispered back with a wink before moving to answer other questions, leaving the frozen Ingo in place.

Of course, the Professor had been a Galarian, had he not? It was only natural that the man that acted like your father figure would have taken photographs of you, possibly giving another glimpse into the life you had chosen for yourself. No matter how optimistic he tried to feel, nothing could stop the one thought that resonated in his mind.

You were dead, buried somewhere hundred of years ago. And here he stood, deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

Emmet continued walking, looking at the assortment of clothing laid out until his eyes stopped, a word on a scroll painstakingly standing out like a sore thumb.

“Uh, brother? C-Come here.”

There, in the middle of a Museum, was a nearly pristine sheet of parchment, Modern English written on it.

“Warden of Lady Sneasler, are you well where you are now? I know you will find this in due time, so please accept my apology for my actions.

Tell me, are the stars there as pretty as they were here? The stars have seemed to have lost some of their shine since you’ve left but its a little price to pay to know you returned home safely.

Don’t worry, Ill take care of Lady Sneasler and her kit until my final destination.

But until then… Bravo!!

Coffee and cheesecake at 6pm sound good to you?

Forever yours. Love, your heroine Y/N.”

“If we do, will you take me out for coffee and cheesecake? I hear Unova has the best cheesecake in the world.”

He had agreed. Agreed, not even knowing that hundreds of years ago, you had asked him on a date.

[imherebabycakes]

SECRETS & LOYALTY

💙🐢❤️🐢💜🐢🧡

:tbh i write for fun 🤸🏾‍♀️

:oh and I’m a black woman so i might say the word nigga from time to time. if you dont like it, well…🚪🚶🏾‍♀️

:since i dont see it alot with tmtn bayverse fan fics i will be representing different ethnicities. especially black/latino/asian

:i am not a professional writer🤷🏾‍♀️

: good and bad criticism is welcomed, cuz i dont know none of yall either way so its all good , 😗

:if there is bad punctuation, please forgive me. 🙌🏾

:please enjoy and come back again😍



:i do not own tmnt. this is just for fun. everything is to go to their respective owners!!

-present day-

my name is Neptune Star Lewis and im about to tell y’all the story about how i found out that humans or “full humans” aren’t the only ones that inhabit earth. besides already being a believer in aliens thanks to the men in black movies, I always felt that there was something more out there, and i was right.



(time rewind 2018)

- neptunes pov-

i was home in the new apartment my cousin & i just moved to in Brooklyn NY

while putting boxes away , i was talking on the phone with my cousin Blaze who was at a 24 hour cvs a few blocks away picking up her prescription for an inhaler, she has asthma and was due for a refill. over the years we had some scares where she has had asthma attacks that were vary serious that resulted in her needing hospitalization from it. she’s my best cousin & friend we tell each other everything no matter what. i don’t ever have to question her loyalty, lets just say we go back like spinal cores and car seats. 

(Blaze pov)

aye tuney, (neptune’s nik name) i’m on my way back to the house now, ima hit up the corner store for some snacks do you want anything? nah im good on the junk food , but hurry yo ass up cuz I’m not putting all this stuff up by myself, my is back already starting to hurt. girl stop all that woofing, ill be home in 10-15 you big baby. ight bet….

my cousin Neptune seriously needs to take a chill pill once in a while, ever since i had my last asthma attack she’s been on my ass like stank on shit, i know she means well but damn she’s smothering me! i feel like i cant do nothing without letting her know first, she acts as if im a child. i guess that would come naturally for her being as though she’s 23 and im 19… but still she should cut me some slack. DING,DING…..diiiiing!

saved by the bell literally, i got a text from my best friend mikey,i met him 2 years ago after a potential alien invasion happened, and guess what, him and his brothers are the ones that stopped it! i know i know, hard to believe right? well not entirely. he and his 3 brothers are mutant turtles, there’s Leonardo he’s the oldest he has a more serious demeanor then its Rafael he’s all muscle and a complete jock, but he’s a sweetie pie at heart. then there’s Donatello he’s a real life genius, Albert Einstein? who det? Donatello’s intelligence is literally out of this world. and then theres my bestie Michelangelo who’s the baby out of brothers, he is emotionally intelligent, a sweet heart and will smash anyone in call of duty or mario smash bro’s. they are the most lovable selfish people i have ever met and i absolutely love them. themikester- hey blazey you wanna hang out for movie night? we got the movie aqua man. and we can order pizza & wings and i got your favorite ice cream. blaze- wassup Mikey, and thats sound good, but you know i gotta ask the warden for permission first, hopefully she gives me a pardon for tonight. themikster- damn she still ok your case huh?. blaze-yes and it’s driving me nuts,i feel like a caged bird sometimes man. themikster- well to be completely honest i can understand where she’s coming from, that last asthma attack had you in the hospital for 2 weeks, we were all so scared for you blazey! especially me. blaze- i know mikey and i get it,but tonight im busting out i don’t have any classes and im off for the weekend. so ima be there tonight! themikster- whoop whooop yess, ight call me when you’re ready tonight. blaze- ight bet

( back at the apartment)

come on tuney, ima grown ass woman, i am not a little girl anymore and i can take care of myself you know that!.

blaze, i know your grown its just i worry about you alot, im sorry if i come off like a nagging mom sometimes, but we all we got out here , so i cant help it. and you always running off to chill with these so called “friends” that i have yet to meet!! wasssup with that? we don’t keep secrets remember!!!

oh….ummm…well ummm…well when the time is right i’ll introduce you to them okay?

mmmmhhhmmm….i know you playing games , look i aint with all this secret, secret stuff ight!! your my family, my blood cousin, remember where your loyalty lies.

yea tuney, i understand no secrets…..… soooooo we cool?

like the other side of the pillow lazy….(blaze’s nik name) *laughing*

omg i hate when you call me that tuney….

bih do it look like i care? naaaah *laughing * well what time are you leaving? and are they going to bring you back home?

im leaving out at 10pm… oh…a-and i might spend the… n-night

WHAT!!…… *squints eyes* lazy, are you fucking him/them?

WHAT ? * look embarrassingly* no tuney were just friends thats it and thats all. dame!!

okay….okay, i believe you *laughing* i mean i had to ask, i haven’t seen you bring a man home at all, so i presume yo ass still a virgin, but i have noticed a difference in the way you walk them hips spreading girlfriend . well if your not fucking you definitely like or love someone….

ight,,,, ight this is getting uncomfortable…. a- and i dont like anyone.

whatever you say blaze *rolls eyes* you can deny it all you want, but i been there and done that, you got it bad cuzzo.

whatever tuney…..

even though i didn’t want to admit it, Neptune was right, im in love… not only am i in love, but its with my best friend mikey, i wanted to tell him for a while now but i didn’t wanna face possible rejection or ruin our friendship. i dont know what to do. *sigh*

(time jump10:15pm )

like clockwork Mikey and Raph met me at the man hole, 

wasssup little foot

hey raphie

why do you call me that,, you know i despise that name.

i know but i think its cute

really? well then in that case i’ll allow you, and only you to call me that…

cool, beans

hey mikster whats up

blazey, wasssup beautiful

*blushing* hi mickey

so you ready for tonight, ive been waiting to see this movie! im excited, are you?

hell yea i am

ight thing one and two, lets get outta here.

(raphs pov)

little foot is so into my brother mikey its so cute, and obvious but knowing the air head he is he probably doesn’t even realize it.

(Mikey pov)

blazey is so beautiful, her Hershey brown skin and ginger brown coily hair smells and looks so good. she’s my best friend and i love her, aww hell why am i fronting i got it bad for her, i have for a while now. SHIT

(back at the apartment)

a men in black marathon was on tonight, these was my favorite movies. i was cuddled up in my blankets on my king sized bed with some wine and popcorn. every time I watch these movies I can’t help but to think that there are aliens out here living among us or hybrid humans or something like that. I guess I’m somewhat of a conspiracy theorist, but to me i don’t need proof of their existence, i can feel it in my gut that it’s true. they are out there just living. sometimes i wonder am i one, or my cousin. ight tuney chill tf out *laughing to myself* speaking of , i told that heifer to call me when she gets to her bff house. * rolls eyes* let me call her

(blazes pov)

the move is like that, and the main character is definitely eye candy.

looking around me i notice all the boys are into the movie, raph is in the big recliner knitting what looks like another blanket, donnie, leo and ,my self are all on the couch, loe is stuffing his face with gummy bears and donnie is licking yet another pop tart. mikey was on the floor spread out on the bean bag drinking numerous sodas eating popcorn and M&Ms. and all i had was my favorite ice cream(strawberry shortcake)

about 30 minutes into the movie my phone starts ringing, startling everyone in the living room.

*simultaneous gasps*

sorry guys

no phones during the movie blaze, says leo

i know leo my bad, its my cousin

is everything okay?… donnie? says

yea i forgot to call her to let her know im ok

oh ok do you want us to pause the movie?, loe says 

nah, you guys continue ill be right back!

i step off and reluctantly answer,

yooo??

dont yo me ! i told yo black ass to call me when you got there!!

i know my bad i got carried away in the fun tuney dont trip.

mmhhhmmm… what you mean fun? i thought yall was just watching movies. you sure thats all you doin over there lazy?

yes tuney,we’re just chilling

yes ight well next time call me as soon as you get there.

bet.

as i was walking back to the living room i bumped into mikey

hey blazey you okay?

yea mikey im good

oh okay well the movie is getting good, so come on

o….okay right behind you.

(neptunes pov)

I honestly don’t know what to think about Blaze‘s so called friends. or the fact that I haven’t even met them yet or the fact that they’re all boys. god i hope my baby cousin ain’t on no freaky type shit like that, not that i would shame her if she was but gah lee, just the thought.well one of these days ima get to the bottom of it all, i mean why doesn’t she trust me enough to tell me about them? im honestly proud of myself for my self control because i could’ve followed her on numerous occasions to find answers, but if i did that she’d never let me forget it. and she is grown and is entitled to her privacy.

1 hour later

(blaze pov)

that movie was so good y’all i really enjoyed it.

yea it was cool. *yarns* well im pooped im goin to bed, goodnight everyone!

night leo

night brah

night

goodnight leo, guys im kinda tired to,

you can sleep in my room tonight little foot, i have to finish this blanket, then i’ll probably go workout

NO!!!…iii…i mean she can sleep in my room, i cleaned up and everything.

*collectively staring at mikey*

oooookay……anyways, guys the couch is fine, im not a guest anymore remember, im good.

if you say so. well ill be in my lab if you need me.

later little foot.

30 minutes later

as many blankets that i have on the couch it’s still kind of uncomfortable sometimes, maybe I should’ve took raphs offer to sleep in his bed instead. plus its cold out here to and a little creepy

i wonder if mikey is still awake?

welp lemme find out….

( mikey’s pov)

i cannot sleep, i just keep thinking about blazey.

she’s so beautiful and smart and down to hearth. she’s perfect to me

KNOCK Knock

mikey you up?

blazey?

yea?

come in!!!

sup,…..ummm.y…you okay

yea its just, well… its cold and creepy out there…….can i sleep with you please!!

*screams internally*

umm yeas sure, come one

thanks mikester

omg she’s smells so damn good, and she’s so warm. god help me

umm mikey?

yes?

are you okay you seem a little stiff?

*hell no, yo fine sexy chocolate ass is in my bed, wearing booty shorts and a tank top on. i can see the nipple piercings through the shirt. omg im gonna pass out*

oh yea im fine

well then come on, cuddle with me

*i hope little mikey doesn’t get up*

okay….sure

nuzzled under my neck lies the woman that i am head over hills for,

about 15 minutes later, she turns around and now her big bubble ass is  against dick. god help me

*lil mikey wants out!!!! *

*twitch, twitch*

i back up from her, and what does she do?

she backs that thang back up on me, and puts my hand over her stomach. this woman is trying to kill me!

*twitch twitch*

(blaze pov)

for some reason mikey is acting weird, this ain’t The first time I’ve slept in his bed. so im confused

i drift off to sleep,but after awhile i notice that mikey moved off and away from me, so i moved closer to him, my back to his chest and i pulled his arm over me. no sooner then i do that i feel too vary hard taps on my ass.

*i know that ain’t what i think it is*

um mikey

yes

you good

umm… y-yea im good

*tap tap*

mikey why are you touching my ass?

im sorry blazey, its my dick, when you leaned back on me you rubbed it. and i honestly cant help it

omg im sorry mikey i didn’t mean it ill go back on the couch.

NO PLEASE DONT GO!!!!!

okay i wont…are you okay mikey?

honestly no…n-no im not

what’s wrong, you know you can tell me anything

i know, blazey

so go ahead, im all ears

* unbeknownst to me this big star burst full of love was about to pour his heart out… to me!*

BLAZE IM IN LOVE WITH YOU ! and i have been for months now, since the first time I saw you I knew that I wanted you to be in my life whether it be friends or more.  you’re so smart,funny,kind the most importantly beautiful. and every time I see you my heart flutters. blazey you bring me to climax without sex..(2pac reference) and i love you with all my heart.

surprised at his words all my dumb ass i could say was….. woah… just woah. “really blaze”but i honestly felt the same way he did, but i didn’t get a chance to say my peace because i guess by my lack of words his confidence deteriorated & he started back tracking.

its stupid huh? to think that an ugly mutant like me would ever have a chance with a woman like you, im outtah here!!wha…. what are y….. mikey where are you going!!

away from here!!!!

MIKEY WAIT…. STOP!!!

ugh this man got me chasing him in the middle of the night

about five minutes later I come a section in the sewer where the guys used to play when they were younger. raph and donnie showed me this place a little while after ide met them, and as i walk a little further inside lo and behold there was my Mikey. as i approached him I noticed his face and eyes were puffy from crying. 

mikster…..i…umm…i need to say something

I already know what you’re going to say.

oh really…. well enlighten me please

yes,…..you’re gonna say “ I like you as a friend Mikey” “I would never be with an ugly monster like you” “i’d rather be with a human” “i wouldn’t be caught dead with a beat like you”

a bit annoyed at his remark, i sigh and cross my arms over my chest Mikey come on now, does that even sound like something I would say to you? thats not even my M.O

i… i don’t know blazey. im a bit emotional and confused right now

well listen up, kneeling in front of him i grab his hands and try to look him in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. but he won’t look at me at all. with a little more aggressiveness i grab his chin making him look at me. and repeat myself

i have something to say!!

*clears throat*

I LOVE YOU TO Michelangelo

he looks at me dead in my face and tears starts to form in his eyes when he says

you…you…love me?

of course i do , very much i said with a huge smile on my face. but no sooner did his tears come, they soon left his Face scrunched up in anger and he shouted at me….me!!

look ima a big boy you don’t have to pity me with lies okay!! i can take your rejection but the lying is to much for me

sitting there appalled I honestly don’t know if I wanna Kimbo slice his ass or bust out laughing at the false accusations he had of me. so me going on instinct i jump the gun and smash my lips ever so gently into his. he smelled of honey buns and tasted like milk chocolate.. gaaah leee what have i been missing. then out the cut all I feel are too big hands cuff my ass and give it a squeeze. & did i stop it???

hell tf no!!!

muttering through us kissing, all i hear is a hazy lustful mikey say, da….aamn blazeeey. i… i love you! ahh…an… deeet…..aaaass

HORNEY AINT EVEN THE WORD !

multiple parts are definitely in the works!!! i just had to get this off my mind before i forgot

[kipaia]

Lyrium’s Bane Excerpt

For everyone I’ve spent the last like six years repeating “I swear I’m still working on it!” about Lyrium’s Bane . . . I swear I’m still working on it XD But we’re finally getting closer to me starting posting again, so here’s an (unedited) excerpt from the mostly entirely re-written fic ^.^

"Then why defend her?!" he demanded, half shouting.

"Because I don't think you should torture someone just because you know how!" Adara shouted back, not caring who heard them. Sure enough, several heads turned their direction, but she pressed on. "You need to stop looking at her like she's an evil, people-eating Magister and start looking at her like she's a Fenris that never got to escape."

She left without another word, the door to the tavern slamming shut behind her leaving such a silence that all Markus could do was stare after her in shock. As the noise slowly returned to normal, he glared at his ale. Why was everyone mad at him? She was the Magister; worse than that, even, she was Magister Danarius. How could Adara defend her? Not three days ago she'd been agreeing with him that something needed to be done about her, but now that something had been done, she was pissed at him!

He took an angry drink, practically slamming his mug on the table. Fenris was important to them both, no matter that one of them had broken his heart and the other had had their heart broken by the warrior. He didn't deserve to live in a world where someone who should have been his ally paraded her betrayal of everything she should have stood for and was lauded for it. No, he'd made the right decision. At the very least she was in for several days of excruciating pain; Fenris himself had been laid up for nearly a week after Danarius' slave hunters had come at him with those gloves.

Markus shuddered. No. No matter what Adara said or whatever fucking feelings of sympathy she had now, he'd made the right choice. If his lover wasn't here to defend himself, he was more than happy to have taken care of the matter for him.

Just as he finished taking another drink, someone slid into the seat Adara had vacated. "Markus Hawke, I presume?"

Great. Another fucking 'Vint, judging by the voice and the overly-pompous attitude. "That's me. And you can get fucked, mate. I don't drink with 'Vints."

"Oh we're not drinking together!" the man laughed as if the very thought was hilarious, and Markus tensed. He'd seen that look before; the one that hid behind humor, that whispered anger and rage to anyone smart enough to pay attention. "My name is Dorian Pavus, and before you start pointing fingers, no, I am not a Magister, and I just wanted a brief moment of your time to discuss a mutual friend of ours."

"We don't have any mutual friends, slaver," Markus growled.

One of the 'Vint's eyebrows twitched. "Yes, well. My friend, you know the one, you beat the shit out of her a few days past? Her? Yes. I happen to prefer it when she does not spend two days locked in our room crying in pain, thank you." He eyed him speculatively before sighing and leaning forward on his elbows, voice softening so his words wouldn't spread further than the two of them. "She has spent these last two days practically begging me to let this go, but I find that when it comes to her pain, I am less willing to listen to her. Not one to regard herself highly, really. So here I am, and I am asking - politely, I might add - for you to explain what exactly she has done to you to deserve you torturing her in front of the entire Inquisition."

He flinched at the echo of his sister’s words. "I didn't -"

"If that wasn't what that was, I'll eat my staff," Dorian snapped. "You associated with Fenris. Do not try to convince me you didn't know what you were doing to her." 

His nostrils flared with the effort of remaining civil. Arrogant and unwanted as his present company was, he knew he was one of Inquisitor Idran's favorite companions currently. He still needed the Inquisitor to investigate the Warden disappearances, so he needed to be civil, regardless of how badly he wanted to deck the man. "Look, I'm not in the habit of debating the morality of causing slavers pain, let alone ones that were handed a Magister's seat -"

"She stole it."

Markus stopped, jaw hanging open. "She what?"

"She stole it. Castellum Tenebris, Neromenian, the entirety of the holdings of House Danarius. She stole it. The only reason she holds her seat in the Magisterium is because the Archon ratified her claim and no one has yet figured out how to kill a perrepatae who is largely immune to magic and can walk through walls." Dorian shrugged lightly, taking another drink.

It took several moments for Markus to get his whirling thoughts back in some semblance of order as he absorbed that information. "How in the Maker's name did she steal an entire Imperium noble House?"

"By killing everyone with a better claim and providing evidence that Magister Titus Danarius had placed her in charge of his affairs before leaving on his final ill-fated journey to Kirkwall." Leaning back in his chair, Dorian smiled fondly. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure how she pulled it off either. But for all that you complain, rightfully so, about the evils of Magisters and the Imperium, you should know that she was the one who convinced Titus to go to Kirkwall without a proper retinue and half-poisoned by magebane."

"Magebane . . ." Markus whispered, brow furrowing before his eyes widened comically. "The failed barriers."

"Mhmm." Dorian's tone was light, but his expression was deadly serious as he stood abruptly. "I need to go check on my dear friend. She was gravely hurt recently by someone she holds in high esteem and didn't properly defend herself so they wouldn't be hurt, you see, and her recovery is quite slow. You understand, I hope?"

He was gone before Markus could find his voice.

[jentrevellan]

I'm so happy to finally share my fic for @dasmutquisition! I had so much fun with this one, it's unreal. I hope you enjoyed @sumiIong

Rating: Explicit

Category: F/M

Fandoms: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins

Relationship: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age)

Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Teagan Guerrin

Additional Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Happy Ending, Making Love, trapped together (sort of), strong woman, anxious Alistair, generic Cousland, King Alistair and Queen Cousland, newlyweds, Morning Sex, D in the V, Porn With Plot, Dorks in Love

Language: English

Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition

Summary: Alistair and the Warden spend the first night not only as husband and wife but as King and Queen.

Notes: Thank you @curiousthimble for being my beta!

Read on Ao3

Doin' the Fondue

The great hall in Denerim Castle was loud and filled to the rafters with people. Nobles, elves, dwarves and peasants alike were squeezed in, all clamouring to see the newly married couple. Up on the dais, overlooking the crowd that was slowly getting rowdier and rowdier with the ale and wine that continued to flow, Alistair - now King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden - slouched in his throne and took a gulp of wine.

He was terrified.

Oh, the ceremony had been a delight, and he had adored proclaiming his love in front of the Maker and the witnesses in the Chantry. But as soon as he had stepped into the hall for their wedding feast, his gut started churning. Because he knew what must come next after the merriment had ended.

He glanced at his wife beside him. His wife! Despite his anxiety, he couldn’t help but grin like a fool at the thought of his Grey Warden companion, Lady Cousland, now being his wife. It didn’t seem wholly real. Indeed, most of his life the past year hadn’t seemed real. So much had changed, and now he was married.

Alistair took another sip of wine from his goblet and his new wife glanced at him, a small frown on her brow. She already knows me so well, he thought. No one else would be able to tell that anything was amiss, but she had always seen straight through him and knew when even the smallest thing was bothering him. One of the many traits he loved about her. Although it did mean that it was impossible to keep any sort of secret from her. Even the good kind of secrets.

As he picked at his food, his new wife and Queen accepted many gracious gifts from guests. All curtsied or bowed and she was most eloquent in her response. Truly, she was more prepared for this life as a monarch than him. Her noble upbringing was a far cry from how he was raised. But wherever his trepidation lay about ruling, he knew that with this woman beside him as his Queen, that he could do anything.

She laughed heartily at a joke Teagan was telling her, and he watched as she wiped away a tear. Alistair glowered at his uncle and reached out for his wife’s hand. She turned to him, a wide smile on her face, her cheeks flushed and her lips rosy from the wine.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

He nodded his head to Teagan. “Just wondering what was so funny…?”

She blushed prettily, and a jealous hand gripped his gut. He would not easily forget his uncle’s flirtations when he had first met them in Redcliffe, and ever since, a fit of strange jealousy and need to claim her as he always came about when he was in the presence of both her and Tegan.

Waving a jewelled hand, she shook her head. “It was nothing. Rather crude, actually, so I told him off for lowering the tone of our conversation at our wedding feast,” she replied, taking a sip of wine. “Now what’s the matter with you?”

“Me?” he repeated. “Nothing. Nothing is the matter with me at all. Absolutely nought.”

“Alistair,” she said seriously, leaning in close. Her tone made him want to listen, but her golden gown with its tight bodice had pressed her breasts pleasantly together and were well within his eye line that he couldn’t help but glance down. A treacherous blaze of desire coursed through him, and with her puckered lips, her brow furrowed in concern, he wanted nothing more than to crush her to him and -

A chill went through him. He wanted her, oh yes, most desperately, but Tegan caught his eye and winked, and a shudder of repulsion went through him as he turned his head to see half of the court watching their interaction. He pulled away from his wife abruptly and reached for his goblet of wine, again and took a huge mouthful.

Ever the gracious lady, his wife smiled faintly and pretended that nothing had happened. But the look she quietly gave him as he peered at her over the rim of his goblet made his gut clench with guilt. There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, and he felt rotten about being the cause.

The dinner continued and as the servants were generous with topping up his wine, Alistair kept emptying his goblet. His wife, on the other hand, declined and stuck to watery lemonade and with dread, he realised that she was not drinking the same as him because it was expected that she needed to stay sober to conceive.

It was like a weight was pressing down on his chest, and he struggled to breathe, and it was getting worse as the evening wore on. Soon he stopped eating and drinking and just watched everybody that approached the dais to offer their congratulations or present gifts to the newlyweds. One item that was given to the new Queen was a selection of herbs which, as the kindly elderly noble had explained “would help the womb quicken”. Alistair had almost retched at her words, and instead began a small coughing fit, which required his wife to smack him firmly on the back a few times harder than she would’ve done normally.

At one point, a small child approached, dressed in a simple cotton tunic, as white as a cloud. Her hair was braided down her back and entwined with flowers. She stood before the queen who rose from her throne and leant over the table to adjust a flower in the girl’s hair. Alistair watched as his wife’s face lit up with warmth as she listened and spoke to the child. He wanted to give that to her. But… but…

“Let us bed them!” Tegan suddenly announced, and there was a scramble as the court got to their feet hurriedly, to be one of the select few to follow them to their chambers. The women reached the queen and she shot Alistair one swift look of alarm before resigning herself to their insistent tugs as they all but pushed her out of the room. Alistair followed with a group of noblemen, including his uncle.

“I bet you’re looking forward to this, m'boy,” Tegan grinned, falling into step beside Alistair, as they made their way through the halls of the castle.

“I don't know what you mean,” he replied flatly, his face feeling warm not just from the wine.

Tegan clapped him on the back. “You are one lucky man, my boy,” he said with a sigh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you so quiet in all the time I’ve known you. Your mind has been elsewhere this evening - and I’m not the only one to notice.”

Dread tugged at him as he climbed the stairs. “Yes, you’re right and I’m sorry, but-”

“Sorry!” Tegan repeated with a snort. “You’ve no need to be sorry. Most men are as quiet as a mouse in anticipation of their wedding night. And one can’t certainly blame you: your wife is simply lovely.”

“Yes, thank you, Tegan,” Alistair ground out, shrugging his shoulder lose of his grip. But rather than be offended, the man laughed and Alistair clenched his fists. Never before had he been so tempted to knock his uncle around the head.

They arrived at his chamber door and inside more nobles awaited eagerly. The king’s bed had been arranged neatly, but there was no expectation for him to sleep there tonight. Instead, he eyed the connecting door where he knew his wife would be waiting for him, surrounded by the noblewomen.

“Are you going to leave?” he asked, looking around the room, but the men just laughed, and chatted, some making obscene gestures. He grimaced, hating the sheer manliness in the room. His manservant came forward to help him undress from his finery and removed his crown. Once he had been disrobed save for his smalls, he threw on his white cotton nightshirt and ran his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat from his brow.

There was a faint knock at the connecting door, and one of the servants hurried forward and exchanged whispers with the servant on the other side. Alistair paced anxiously and took a very keen interest in a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt. The men around him were talking about absolute filth, and he squeezed his eye tight shut, in the vain hope that his ears would squeeze shut too.

Finally, the connecting door swung open and the servant stood aside. Alistair was rooted to the spot, fear coursing through him. Are these people… going to watch ? He thought with horror.

He was quite content with where he was until Tegan elbowed him in the ribs. “Nervous?” he said with a wink.

“Yes. No! I mean, no !” he said hurriedly, his face burning.

“There’s nothing to be scared about. She’s going to be a wonderful wife to you in so many ways…”

“Shut up,” Alistair groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. Honestly, he was this close to hurling Tegan out the window.

But before he could entertain that thought further, the men in his room were pressing him through the door and - oh Maker no - were also following him. He entered the queen's bed-chamber to find a gaggle of ladies with rosy cheeks flutter their lashes and lick their lips seductively at the men. But Alistair was anything but aroused when he finally turned to the large, four-poster bed, to see his wife and queen.

She was a perfect painting of innocence and virginity in crisp white sheets with a matching white nightdress. Her hair had been unbound and combed neatly and she sat as still as a statue, her back and posture absolutely perfect for a queen. The covers were pulled up to her lap, and her hands rested delicately entwined: her sparkling wedding ring the only jewellery that remained.

He refused to meet her eyes as he slowly walked around to the other side of the bed. He pulled the covers down amidst the chatting of the court and when he finally sat beside her, a good arms-length away from her, the court finally - finally - turned to leave. Several clapped, the women exchanged knowing looks with the queen, who smiled politely in return, and the men, now incredibly drunk, ambled from the room, wishing Alastair luck and reminding him of how lucky he was.

Finally, blessedly, the last person left the room and closed the door with a gentle click .

☆☆☆☆☆

To the new queen’s dismay, the first thing her new husband did as soon as the door had shut, was leap out of the bed as if he had been scalded. She frowned as he strode towards the door, and for an awful moment, she thought he was going to leave. But no: he reached to a small side table and found a key and locked the big oak door to her chambers, followed by locking the conjoining door from the king’s bedroom.

Still not saying anything, Alistar strode around the room, pulling open curtains and wardrobes, trunks and cabinets.

“What in the world are you doing?” she finally asked, her patience running thin. The man had barely spoken to her since their vows in the Chantry in the morning, and now he was examining every nook and cranny of her chambers?

He paused by her bookshelf and flicked her a glance over his shoulder. “Checking,” he replied, before shifting a few books.

“Whatever for?”

He sighed in exasperation. “To make sure that we are alone! Andraste’s arse, I thought they were going to stay at one point and watch to make sure we… we… erm…” he coughed and busied himself by peering under a chaise lounge.

She got out of bed and dropped to her hands and knees and looked under the bed. Thankfully, there was no one there, but she had to admit that the same fear had crossed her mind. Even though she knew that wasn’t the common practice, sometimes nobility did take things a bit too literally…

“We’re safe,” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips.”There’s no spy, no peephole, no nothing but us.”

Alistair finally stopped his fidgeting and turned to her from across the room. For the first time in a long time, they were utterly alone. Normally, they would’ve fallen into each other’s arms by now, but something was stopping her, and she could tell that something was also stopping him. They stood on opposite sides of her room, the bed imposing and glaring at them, whilst the distance between them felt as vast a chasm. And that was something neither of them had experienced before.

“Everything is different now, isn’t it?” she said quietly, looking down at her hands clasped before her.

Alistair also seemed to be studying his fingernails. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

She played with the hem of her pure white night-dress and frowned. Conversation with her now-husband had never been this stilted. So she switched tactic to one he would hopefully relax with: humour.

“You know, for a good ten minutes, I honestly thought they were all going to stay and watch,” she said with a wry smile. She knew they wouldn't - being brought up as a noble lady had earnt her some education in these things - but Alistair needed not to know that. For it worked:

“Maker! You did too?” he exclaimed, letting out a bark of laughter. “I didn’t think they would, but I began to doubt myself.”

She took a step towards him. “Hence your paranoia about spies?”

He nodded. “Yes, hence the… paranoia ,” he rolled his eyes at her choice of words, but there was a smirk on his lips, which made her heart soar.

The man she knew was peeking through, so she took another step closer. “It’s an archaic tradition anyway,” she said. “I know for a fact that they do not practice it in Orlais.”

Alistair snorted. “Perhaps the only redeeming factor of the Orlesians.”

“Hmm, that and the cheese,” she smiled and finally, finally , her new husband met her eyes.

They both burst into laughter and she saw his shoulders sag. She bit her lip and placed a hand on his cheek. “We don’t have to do anything if you don't want to,” she said earnestly.

His face reddened. “But I do! I do want to! With you, that is! I just… it’s just…” he trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut as he sought out the right words.

“The pressure of it all?” she supplied.

“Yes!” he gasped, relieved. “To know that we cannot come together unless it’s for a purpose. That purpose,” he mumbled, pointing to her stomach.

He was going inside himself again, so she took his hands in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “Think of it this way… it’s for the good of the country that you fuck me senseless any time of day and night.”

Alistair spluttered at her bluntness but she just laughed as she slipped her hands from his and moved past him. There was a small table laden with food - to help keep up their energy for their excursions, no doubt - so she helped herself to a goblet of wine and poured one for her new husband. “You’re probably one of the only men in the world who can use that excuse,” she smiled, popping a grape in her mouth.

“You…” he grinned, walking over and taking the other goblet from her hand. “You are a minx.”

She pretended to be shocked. “You’ve only just realised? And here I thought you only married me because you knew I was.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled him to her, kissing the top of her head. “One of many, many many reasons,” he replied.

They stood content in silence, their thoughts elsewhere when she finally spoke again. “I meant what I said. We don’t have to do anything we’re expected to do tonight.”

He gulped but nodded. “I… I know. And I appreciate that, but please don’t think it’s because I don’t want... need you,” he said quietly, his grip on her tightening.

“It’s not like we’ve not done it before,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “Even if this gown pretends to be evidence to the contrary.”

“Yes, and we have done it, many, many times…”

“And we will many more,” she confirmed, popping another grape in her mouth, the sweetness washing over her tongue. She turned to him: “but not tonight.”

“Thank the Maker I married you,” he murmured, downing the rest of his wine.

“But I do have a wicked idea…”

He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

“We should take all of this food and eat it… in bed.”

He laughed, so genuine and delightful that her gut warmed pleasantly. Suddenly, in one swift motion, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, his other hand grabbing the cheese board and marched over to the bed. He threw her down, and she tried to not be too aroused by the action, but her pert nipples through her night-dress gave her away. Determined to make sure Alistair was as happy as could be, she reached forward and pulled him onto the bed and instead of kissing him, grabbed a handful of cheese and squashed it into his mouth.

The King of Ferelden snorted with laughter as he tried to eat the cheese, before doing the same back at his new queen. He pecked her on the nose and rose to collect more food and wine, and soon they were sitting leaning against the headboard, a delectable spread of food between them. And they gorged.

☆☆☆☆☆

The sun peered through the lattice windows of the queen’s chamber. The light was white and bright and brought Alistair blinking out of his deep slumber, momentarily confused at his location. He looked up at the canopy above him and duly noted the olive green drapes of the Queen’s bed. He’d never slept in here and was momentarily disoriented until he remembered the day before.

In his arms, still and sound asleep, was his wife. Her hair was splayed on the pillow and tickled his nose. He couldn’t see her face, but today it felt more real: this woman who had become his friend and companion, lover and hero of Ferelden, was now his wife… his queen . He gently propped himself onto his elbow, so as not to wake her, and gazed down at her face, noting the way the sunlight accentuated her high cheekbones. This wonderful, beautiful and exquisite woman is my wife , he thought with quiet awe. His chest flipped with uncontained joy and gone was the trepidation of the night before.

He studied her face as she slept, her nostrils flaring slightly as she sighed contently in her sleep. He lay back down and pulled her close to him, tightening his grip on her, and burying his face in her neck, inhaling her intoxicatingly sweet scent. The silk nightdress was so smooth and thin, and his hands couldn’t help but wander up and down, his fingers gently brushing the material over her skin, like water. Without realising it, he found himself rutting against her arse, which was tucked up cosily to his groin. He tried to still himself, she's still asleep ! But his wandering hands could not be stopped as one slowly crept up her torso and cupped a breast. The shift was so thin, that he felt her nipple harden with the barest of touches and that’s when he realised that her hips were moving too.

He pushed himself up to an elbow again, and her eyes, dark and hooded with desire stared back at him. Her lips parted with a hitched breath and he flicked her nipple with his thumb. Moving his hand downwards, he swallowed her breathy moan as his fingers teased the hem of her smalls, mouth crashing down on hers in simple, uncontained desire.

They had not so much as kissed since they had said their wedding vows in the Chantry, he realised. And as his tongue licked her upper lip, he swore to himself that he would never leave it so long to kiss her again. Her mouth opened with a sigh and their tongues danced as he continued to rut, and she squirmed against him as his hand finally slipped into her smalls in search of her bud.

He stifled a groan as he found her hand already there, gently touching herself. His fingers joined hers whilst they moved their hips and she guided him with her hand. He slipped a digit inside of her and she gasped, squirming against his erection, straining against his smalls, and he pictured feeling her growing wetness around his cock. With impatience, he slid her nightdress up so she was exposed and he pulled his cock out and rubbed it blissfully between her cheeks. Her soft skin was as smooth as silk as he rocked his hips, gaining pleasant friction with her arse.

“More…” she whispered, as her fingers joined his, pumping inside her. And with his control waning, he obliged eagerly.

Alistair rolled her onto her back and pulled her hands over her head as he pinned her down. Her legs fell open for him, and as much as he wanted - no needed - to be inside her, Alistair knew what his lady wife needed more was to be spoiled. If it were up to him, the king would love to stay buried between his wife’s legs for the rest of his days, as her taste was so sweet. He trailed kisses down her neck, and her hips lifted up to meet his, and his resolve almost broke as her core was teased against his cock. But being a Warden had one excellent perk: incomparable stamina.

He continued down, kissing her heaving breasts as they rose and fell erratically with her breathing. Playing with one in his hand, he took her other nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly, her perfect bud hard and round in his mouth. With his hand, he squeezed her other one tight, and had her gasping: but he was nowhere near done. He let go of her breast in his mouth with a pop and glanced up at her to see her mouth open and delicious, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. He grinned and kissed her stomach, then pulled back and positioned himself on his elbows, taking in the sight of her splayed out on the bed, rosy cheeks and breathy moans all for him. He pressed his lips to her knee, then with each kiss, his stubble tickled the inside of her thigh as he moved up her legs, finally reaching that gloriously warm and wet apex in between that was just begging for him to taste.

Desire surged through him and without wasting any more time, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and licked her dripping wet folds. She cried out in pleasure as he rolled his tongue over her, and her fingers grabbed his head, nails digging into his scalp as he worked his mouth. She tasted as good as she smelt, and her hips rose up to meet his mouth, jittering as she climbed higher to her peak. He wanted to spoil her because she deserved it and more. So he reached up with one hand and squeezed a breast and flicked a nipple again, loving the way her hips bucked in response. Her nails dug deeper into his scalp and raked his chestnut hair as his other hand kneaded her arse, lifting her up so he had the best angle to eat her out.

He teased and tortured her with his mouth, and finally sucked on her clit.

“Ah...ah...Alist-ah!” she cried out, her thighs clamping around his head as she came. He tasted her orgasm on his tongue and without missing a beat, rose and positioned himself at her entrance. Her eyes flicked open to look at him as she felt him move, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her exquisite mouth. That was all he needed.

So tormentingly slowly, Alistair finally entered her, the warmth and wetness so indescribably perfect that he couldn’t help but let out a moan. He fit her perfectly and when sheathed completely, he paused and stared into her eyes. Her breathing was still fast from her orgasm and he captured her mouth with his, letting her taste herself. Then he rolled his hips and started to slowly make love to her, not once tearing his gaze from her face. He noticed every single expression that flickered before him as he thrust and teased: a hand on her hip and another once more on her breasts.

She wrapped her legs around him and he plunged unbelievably deeper inside of her, making them gasp and moan in unison as they moved together in a rhythm as old as time. As they moved, the pleasure and pressure mounted, but Alistair had much more control than a boy still wet behind the ears - he wanted to give her so much more before he -

“Ah!” he gasped, as she took him by surprise. She had crossed her ankles behind his back and with her strong legs, twisted so that he was forced to roll and let her sit on top of him. Incredibly, they did not lose touch, and the angle was different but just as pleasurable. She smirked down at him as she pressed her hands to his chest and began to slowly roll her hips, her breasts rising and falling beautifully as she took him. Alistair was entranced as he watched his love move quicker with a growing need and he held her hips tightly to control her pace. But she didn’t need any assistance, as she moved faster and faster, his thrusts coming up to meet hers, flesh slapping flesh. Her moans crescendoed, and the erotic sight before him of his wife move above him with a wonton need to claim her pleasure...well he could feel his control slipping. He wanted to spill himself inside of her, and see his seed drip down her legs…

“Fuck!” she cried, reaching her second orgasm, as Alistair dug his fingers into her thighs to stop himself from joining her peak of pleasure. She fell back and Alistair seized his moment to regain control and topped her again.

Fully sheathed once more, he deliberately moved slowly, as he knew that if he picked up the pace then he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. But she caught his eye and licked her lips.

“Please, Alistair,” she panted, her hands digging into his hips, urging him to move faster.

“Mmmm?” he replied, biting her earlobe and slipping out of her, making her whimper.

“What do you want?” he teased, stroking himself as she looked up at him with uncloaked desire.

“It’s more than what I want ...it’s what I need ,” she whispered, sitting up to meet her lips with his, her hand trailing down his chest and abdomen, making his muscles tense in anticipation.

They kissed delicately, fervently, noses touching, breath mingling. “And what do you need?”

She pulled away and lay back down on the bed, her legs falling open. She traced one finger down the length of her, and his eyes followed.

“Take me, my king,” she begged, touching herself in front of him.

Almost roughly, because he couldn't bear to not be in her again, he flipped her over, brought her to her knees and lined himself up to her entrance. He kissed her salty back, sleek with sweat and breathed in her ear. “As my queen commands.”

He thrusted inside, and she took all of him. She threw her head back and he grabbed her neck, pulling her up to him for a searing kiss, their tongues dancing as he thrusted fiercely, the globe of her ass bouncing against his abdomen. She moaned in his mouth as she touched herself; legs shaking as he pounded into her over and over; sweat mingling, with moans loud and needy, filling the chamber. He pumped with such animalistic need and she cried in pleasure and she gripped the bedsheets for support as he took her, unrelenting in his passion.

With a shaking arm, he reached around and touched her pearl and she cried out, her orgasm sudden and huge.

“Fill me!” she pleaded as she continued to come.

He snapped and finally, wonderfully, he reached his peak too and exploded inside of her, his vision blurred and black at the edges, as he emptied his seed inside of her - for the first time. And Maker, did it feel incredible to finish like this; in a union of bodies so perfect and natural.

Alistair, as breathless as if he had just swam the length of the Waking Sea, collapsed on top of her, laughing with joy.

“I...I love...you,” he panted, their legs entwined and he wasn't sure where his body ended and hers began.

They stayed like that for some time, and Alistair was tempted to fall asleep just like this, but she wiggled underneath him.

“Mmmm, as much as I love you inside of me,” she murmured;” you are crushing me somewhat.”

He reluctantly slipped out of her, trailing kisses all down her back and arse, making her hairs stand on end and her toes curl. He gathered her into his arms, the sheets around them a total mess, but he was loath to care as she lightly ran her fingers over him. His limbs felt like jelly, all loose and relaxed.

“Hey, Alistair?”

“Hmm?” he replied, barely opening his eyes.

“There’s some cheese leftover from last night.”

He sat up suddenly and looked over to where she pointed.

“Cheese for breakfast?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Cheese for breakfast,” she confirmed.

fin

[naiatabris]

ZevWarden Week Day 2's theme is "Gifts." We all know the Warden is an expert gift-giver (an idea I'm playing with here)--so what happens when it's Zev's turn? This is set in the modern AU of my "Charity Case" fic, shortly after the events of the story.

______________

“Hey, are you doing anything Friday after work?”

Zevran glanced over from the pan of eggs he was frying. Naia was making coffee at his side, carefully pushing the top of the press into the vessel to sweep the grounds to the bottom. Naia herself was not picky about her coffee, since she took it with a great deal of sugar and milk; she’d learned this more elaborate method for him, a fact he still did not quite know how to process.

“No firm plans, no. Do you have suggestions?” He winked at her. “Are they naughty ones?”

She laughed as she began to pour the coffee into mugs. “Not exactly. It’s my birthday. I always invite some people for dinner at that diner near the DFRC to celebrate. It’s very casual, but I’d love for you to come.”

“Then I will be there.” He slid the eggs from the pan with practiced ease before pulling out his phone to mark the appointment in his calendar.

*********

Later that day, as Zevran was headed out of Cousland Enterprises to find lunch, a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought. “Hi, Zev!”

Zevran turned to see Beth Cousland walking through the CE door, a bright smile on her face. “Beth! A pleasant surprise. Lunch with a family member?”

She nodded. “I haven’t seen Fergus in ages, and I need ideas for Oren’s birthday. Hey, speaking of birthdays, what are you getting Naia for Friday?”

The question caught Zevran utterly off-guard. He immediately felt foolish. Presents. Of course. As customary in Ferelden as they are in Antiva.

“I … am still struggling with an idea,” he said, not quite lying. “And you?”

“Same here.” Beth’s face lit up. “Here, I’ve got a few minutes before Fergus and I are supposed to leave. Let’s call the expert.”

Barely a minute later, Beth had Alistair Griffin on speakerphone.

“Oooooh. I should have warned you.” Zevran heard Alistair take a deep breath. “Here’s the thing about Naia. She is absurdly, impossibly good at gift-giving. Those action figures on my bookshelf? They were my favorites when I was a kid. I lost them in a move after college but Naia somehow found me new ones. Another year, she sewed me my own Denerim Crashers jersey--that’s the old minor league baseball team that I used to follow before they moved to Highever. She put my name on it and everything.”

Zevran felt a nervous sensation beginning to spread through his stomach.

“So what are you getting her?” Beth asked, a little worried wrinkle between her brows.

“Soccer ball autographed by her favorite Denerim Lightning players,” Alistair said promptly. “Took me a while to find one with the goalie’s signature on it, but I finally had a good idea and I wasn’t going to screw it up.” He cleared his throat. “It was also more than I probably should have spent. Want to split the cost and put your name on the card?”

“Deal,” Beth said immediately. “Any other ideas Zev could use?”

“Unfortunately I spent months coming up with just that one idea,” Alistair said dryly. “Sorry, Zevran. But I wouldn’t worry about it. Gifts are her thing, I think she kind of likes that she’s so much better at it than we are. And most people at the party don’t bring a present. You’ve only been dating a month. She probably doesn’t expect you to get her anything.”

Zevran frowned. “I appreciate the insight,” he told Alistair sincerely. “But I would not wish to arrive empty-handed. I will think of something.”

After exchanging goodbyes with her boyfriend, Beth hung up the phone and gave Zevran a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he’s right, you know. Whatever you get her, she’ll appreciate the thought.”

Zevran was sure Beth had the right of it. But the knowledge that Naia valued gifts, that she spent so much time and effort on presents for those she cared about, felt like a challenge he wanted to meet. ‘Appreciate the thought’ would not do.

He wanted to find something she would love.

*********

Over the next few days, Zevran began jotting down a list of things he knew Naia liked, trying to come up with a potential gift. He listened to her remarks, paid attention to what she watched on TV, looked at her wall of family photos depicting graduations and cookouts and summer days swimming at a beach on the Amaranthine Ocean.

Coming up with a present was more difficult than he’d anticipated. Since Alistair had already secured the soccer ball, anything related to Naia’s favorite sport or team was out. She’d just bought new running shoes a few weeks ago. He considered something more intimate, but between them they had an impressive collection of toys, and lingerie felt like a gift for him as much as for her.

Perhaps a physical present was the wrong direction. He thought back to the birthdays he’d planned for Taliesin and Rinna. During their first year as Crows he’d taken Taliesin club-hopping, laying out his credit card for some absurdly expensive table service before the two of them headed back to Taliesin’s apartment with an enthusiastic third party. For the last birthday he’d celebrated with Rinna, he’d booked a table at the city’s most exclusive restaurant, followed by a night in a penthouse hotel suite with a spectacular view.

Neither of those ideas were right for Naia, though. He’d learned that she was instinctively frugal, that the prospect of a twenty-dollar cocktail made her wrinkle her forehead and order soda instead. A high-end Denerim restaurant or hotel with mostly shemlen patrons would feel like an ordeal rather than a celebration.

He wanted something special yet comfortable, nice enough to be a treat and yet not so expensive it made her uneasy. A difficult balance to strike, especially since he was still getting to know his new city.

But finally, on Thursday morning, it came to him.

*********

Naia had somewhat undersold her birthday celebration. When Zevran arrived at the diner, it was filled with balloons and packed with her friends--old high school and college classmates, teachers from Vanedrin High, and other rec center employees. He was trying to figure out how to insert himself into this clearly tight-knit and friendly group--but before he could puzzle over it too much, Naia seized him by the sleeve and began to introduce him around.

More than once, Zevran touched the pocket of his jacket to make sure the envelope he’d brought was tucked safely inside.

Alistair began handing her presents as the diner’s wait staff brought out buckets of fries and pitchers of beer. She squealed in glee over the soccer ball, turning it around and around until she’d examined every signature; a new backpack, a gift card to a movie theater, and a Denerim Lightning ball cap were all greeted with hugs and enthusiastic thanks.

And finally, as the wrapping paper was cleared away and the guests resumed their party, Zevran slid an envelope in front of Naia. “Happy birthday.”

“Zev! I should have told you, presents are always optional. But thank you.” She grinned at him and opened it.

Her eyebrows rose as she pulled out the photograph inside. “It’s--a little house? Next to the ocean.” Then her eyes widened in recognition. “Zev. This isn’t …?”

He nodded. “The beach where your family used to go in the summer. Places near the water do book up early, but I was fortunate--there was a cancellation next month. It is just a weekend, but …”

Naia leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his almost-apology. When she pulled back, her eyes were sparkling. “I can’t believe this! It’s amazing! My parents had to cut back on the trips when we started saving for college …” she trailed off wistfully, then looked down at the picture and beamed. “I don’t think I’ve been to the beach in years. I can’t wait.”

“I fear there is a small addendum,” he admitted. “I had to call your parents to learn more about your favorite spots. We will be attending the Tabris family cookout next weekend. Adaia and Cyrion were quite clear that ‘no’ is not an option.”

Naia leaned her head back and groaned. “Oh, Maker. I’m sorry in advance, Zev.”

Oddly enough, Zevran was not. He had never met the parents of anyone he slept with, and he could not deny that the idea was strange. But there had been something very pleasant about hearing the elder Tabrises insist on meeting Naia’s boyfriend.

He raised his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “A cookout is an acceptable price for the chance to see you in a bikini,” he murmured, too low for the rest of the party to hear.

“This place looks pretty private, Zev,” Naia murmured back. “If we’re lucky, we can skip the bathing suits.”

[morganaseren]

Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU

So because there seemed to be interest in the idea, I decided to expand on the second prompt on this list of AUs I made for Bethany and my Niamh Cousland.

Since Bethany is a Circle Mage in Niamh’s canon verse, I really wanted to experiment with Bethany in one of her other potential routes We don’t talk about the ones where she died not long after escaping Lothering or down in the Deep Roads. Like, what are you talking about? Lalala~ and see if I could work together a happier ending than what the games canonically gave her.

Like most of the AUs I’ve already written about though, this is just a snippet into the verse, so it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, and the pacing isn’t on par with my main fic. However, there are still 50+ pages for your reading pleasure! Depending on reader interest, I’ll be more than happy to write more about this or other AUs once OtSttCA is completed.

Disclaimer: Any section written in present tense beneath the Read More contains notes or scenes that I’ve yet to expand upon properly.

CliffNotes version of what goes on:

This whole thing takes place sometime after Bethany becomes a Grey Warden and continues on through the years-long breaks between the Acts of DA2. The epilogue will be set sometime after the Trespasser DLC is completed.

Niamh is the Grey Warden who Morrigan chooses to do the Dark Ritual with, and through the obvious use of magic, Kieran is conceived. Because of this, Niamh’s sister Saoirse escapes her otherwise canonical death and gets to be happily married to Leliana.

Because of their mutual respect for one another, and the fact that Niamh went through the trouble of finding Morrigan through the events of the Witch Hunt DLC (she was worried about her friend and their son), she and Morrigan remain in close contact and co-parent Kieran together. Their relationship is often mistaken as a romantic one though.

Bethany eventually falls in love with Niamh over the years, but because she believes the other woman is in a relationship with Morrigan, she keeps her feelings to herself. As such, this is obviously going to be a slow burn romance much like OtSttCA.

Bethany only confesses (albeit by accident) when Niamh nearly dies during a darkspawn ambush when the two woman accidentally find themselves trapped down in the Deep Roads.

There’s a romantic kiss out in the rain along with a semi-NSFW scene later on, which explains why the Read More is in place beyond the fact that this is already super long despite the fact that it’s unfinished...

They both go off in search of the cure to The Calling not long after the Kirkwall Rebellion, and they both eventually get married sometime after the Trespasser DLC with Divine Victoria (spoilers: it’s Leliana) officiating their wedding.

Interested so far? Click below to read more!

“You’re originally from Ferelden, no?” Stroud asked, drawing Bethany’s attention from where she’d been listlessly staring at the cobblestones as they walked away from Amaranthine’s sea port.

The city itself seemed to be thriving with fishmongers and traders of all kinds rattling off their wares to passersby. Save for the workers carrying about lumber and other building materials, one might not have even believed that Amaranthine had suffered its fair share of woes during the onset of the Fifth Blight or the consequent, mysterious darkspawn attack upon its walls nearly a year later. Still, the denizens of the arling were ever a hearty people. For whatever hardship befell them, they continued to persevere. 

She supposed she couldn’t bring herself to be too surprised by that.

The Storm Coast had spawned some of Thedas’ most fearsome raiders once upon a time, and they had proven the bane of Orlais in the rebellion that had spanned over half an Age. For the empire’s trespass upon their freedom, they had fought back with a ruthlessness that matched the raging waves of the sea that was as much a home to them as the land. In the face of such an unsympathetic enemy, they depended on one another to see themselves and each other through to another day. Such faith eventually earned them the liberation they had long sought against Orlais.

Bethany could still see evidence of such camaraderie in the way the people greeted one another so whole-heartedly, stopping to make conversation or help with the transportation of wares. It was such interaction that she’d miss in all the time she’d been away.

Kirkwall had lacked such sincere enthusiasm.

Still, in the two years since she’d left it, she was finally back home, but Bethany knew it was yet another decision she hadn’t had a say in. She hadn’t agreed to returning to Ferelden any more than she had agreed to becoming a Grey Warden. Her jaw clenched, remembering how her sister had simply handed her over to them even when faced with the proposition that they’d likely never see one another again.

Was it really so easy for you to leave me behind, Sister? she thought bitterly, and perhaps upon sensing her melancholy, Stroud changed the subject.

“I realize it seems a rather abrupt choice in returning you here, but what I seek is far too dangerous for someone so new to our way of life to accompany me with,” he explained. “I’m meeting with the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan branch so that I might share some information in the event that things go awry. Their group is smaller than the ones seen across Thedas, but no one can deny their efficiency.” Stroud spared a small chuckle at that. “A bit like your sister and her crew, I suppose; I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in such a setting.”

It had been a thoughtful suggestion; Bethany knew that. Still, she couldn’t help but sigh. She had always felt that the individuals whom had made up her little social circle were more Emrys’ friends than they had ever been hers. Her older sister had the type of presence to draw anyone to her with her rakish charm and absolute battle prowess.

…which was the exact opposite of her.

As an apostate, it was far easier to stay out of trouble by being unobtrusive. If she gave the Templars no reason to suspect her, she wouldn’t be taken away from her family and the quiet life she had always known. Yet, for all her trouble—and for all her desperation to abide by the rules of a society that had long hated mages like her—she had found herself alone anyway.

Bethany sighed as she looked down at the blues and silvers of the brigandine and tabard of her outfit that signified her status as a Grey Warden. Even with her staff openly displayed across her back, she supposed she no longer had to fear being turned into the authorities. Save for a few curious glances, no one so much as batted an eye at them.

She wasn’t entirely convinced this new life was better than the one she’d left. She could have dealt with the ever-present uncertainty in Kirkwall and the endless, interpersonal squabbles of their ragtag group than spending the remainder of her years surrounded by strangers and fighting darkspawn.

But the choice wasn’t hers to make.

Very little ever was.

---

“So that’s Velanna. She took over as Archivist for our branch when the Warden-Constable was promoted to her current position by our Commander,” Nathaniel said as he took Bethany and Stroud through a tour of Vigil’s Keep since the fortress’ respective Warden-Commander and Warden-Constable were currently out on business.

Their latest stop was a library filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and even more that lined the walls of the chamber that consisted of three separate levels. It was impressive, and Bethany was half-convinced she could have spent an Age in this room alone and never be able to read the entirety of its collection.

At Nathaniel’s commentary, she spared a cursory glance at the woman writing intently at one of the tables furthest away from them, paying little mind to her audience. As was typical of most elves, Velanna was a slight woman. Her hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was nearly white, but there was a surliness in her pensive expression that gave Bethany pause. It was something that suggested the other woman didn’t welcome the company of others easily, and she seemed to have been proven right by Nathaniel’s words.

“Don’t mind her if she’s a bit standoffish at first. Velanna’s usually that way with everyone until she starts warming up to them,” he assured.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She didn’t really like humans all that much to begin with—hardly a surprise considering how terrible some of them were toward her former clan. Truthfully, I think the only people she really respects are our commanding officers—the Constable mostly though.” He spared a soft chuckle at that. “Granted, the Warden-Commander could lead a damn army from one side of Thedas to the other, but only her sister has the type of negotiation skills that could somehow end up with a High Dragon allied with a sheep of all things.”

“Probably a good thing,” said Varel—the Keep’s seneschal. There was amusement in his dark eyes as he stroked his beard, which had long grown grey with age. “Actually succeeding in getting the Warden-Constable angry is a terrifying sight to behold.”

“Please don’t remind me; I still have nightmares from our first meeting…” Nathaniel muttered with a shudder.

Bethany found that curious, but before she could begin to question him, she saw how he blinked at further movement inside the library. She followed his gaze to see that a dark-haired, dwarven woman had entered through one of the side entrances, carrying two, steaming mugs. One had been set before Velanna, who whispered something quietly, but both of Bethany’s brows rose when she saw how the elf’s cheeks quickly reddened by the kiss that had been pressed to them by her latest visitor.

“Ah. And that’s Sigrun there—another one of those few, honored individuals who Velanna won’t immediately snap at,” Nathaniel remarked humorously.

The tour then continued elsewhere with the party entering the Mess Hall. While neat and tidy, it would have otherwise been unremarkable were it not for the lone dwarf snoring loudly atop one of the tables—an empty cask by his side. Bethany and Stroud shared bemused glances while Varel only cursed next to them, running a weary hand down his face.

“I told you we needed better locks for the cellar if we’re to keep Oghren away from the wine stores,” Nathaniel deadpanned.

Oghren grumbled nonsensically in his sleep before promptly rolling off the table and right onto the floor, loudly overturning more than a few chairs in the process. Despite the fall, he continued to doze away, and his snoring only seemed to grow in volume. They then watched as the poor seneschal wearily hauled the dwarf back to his quarters before he could cause another incident in front of their guests.

“…well, that was Oghren,” Nathaniel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “Quite the interesting fellow, that one. With him, you’ve pretty much met every Warden in the Keep save for—”

He was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hallway.

“I told you that I’m more than capable of walking on my own!” protested a feminine voice, irritation evident within it.

“Says the woman who was nearly side-swiped off a cliff by an ogre,” came the deeper timbre of another woman’s amused reply.

Unlike Nathaniel or herself, the latest arrivals didn’t seem to bear the typical, Fereldan accent or even Stroud’s Orlesian one from what she could tell. Bethany could hear how some of the vowels lilted somewhat as they spoke.

“It didn’t really give me any choice in the matter,” was the dry response. “It was either stand before its charge or risk the family in the wagon being swept over the edge instead.”

“I was hardly questioning your bravery, Sister. The people in that caravan certainly wouldn’t, but perhaps leave the more death-defying stunts to those of us with the armor to handle it, hm? I shudder to think what our brother or Aunt Eithne (writer’s note: pronounced Eth-Nah) would say once they find out about this...”

“Perhaps that you were lazing about while I was doing all the work as per usual.”

“Hey!”

Two women appeared in the doorway of the Mess Hall then, and Bethany was startled to find that one of them rivaled her older sister in both height and size. She was a warrior through and through if the impressive greatsword over her shoulder and her overall physique was any indication. Her mane of hair was the color of pale wheat, the length of which was held in a braid that trailed down half her back, and her eyes were a deep, stormy grey. The woman she was carrying—her sister, according to their conversation—was much slighter in comparison.

Rather than sharing in the warrior’s blonde-haired looks, hers was a stark, raven-black. The loose curls trailed to roughly chin-length with a longer fringe that covered one of her eyes—the color a whisper of smoke than the darker grey her sister had. The woman’s arms were also crossed over her chest as she regarded her sister—deeply-unimpressed—before her features cleared at the sight of their visitors.

“Ah. Stroud. Glad to see you and your companion made it across the Waking Sea safely. We weren’t expecting you both for at least another day, or we’d have sent an escort to meet you at the port.”

“No need for the trouble. The winds were kind during our voyage, Warden-Constable,” he said before tilting his head in concern. “Although it appears we’ve arrived too late to help you both. Has the darkspawn presence been more troubling as of late?”

The warrior whom Bethany deduced to be the Warden-Commander merely snorted. “They’re not as plentiful as they were a year ago thankfully. With Niamh’s and Velanna’s respective magic, our branch here has slowly been sealing any access tunnels we’ve come across, but our enemy may just be as awful as vermin with how they manage to reappear in other areas.”

“The incidents have been isolated so far as we can tell, but they’re capable of disrupting travel all the same. On that note…” The Constable trailed off as she turned her gaze toward the Warden who had been showing them about the Keep. “Nathaniel, we have guests from the caravan mentioned earlier. As it’s getting rather late, Saoirse and I decided it was best not to press our luck by letting them travel so soon after the darkspawn attack. Could you and Varel direct them to the guest quarters? We’ll arrange an escort for them to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.”

He pressed a fist over his heart respectfully as he bowed his head. “Of course.”

“Wonderful. Now—”

“Now we get you back to your quarters so that we can tend to your injuries,” her sister interrupted, cheerily grinning when it led to the other woman scowling outright, as if she had been reminded of her current position.

“And I’m more than capable of walking there on my own. Put me down!”

“And risk you further injuring yourself? What type of sister would I be if I were to allow that to happen? Now then!” The Commander directed a smile Bethany’s way, and she jerked in place at the sudden attention. “You’re the latest to join our Order, aren’t you? Stroud mentioned you were a mage. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic, do you?”

“Oh.” Bethany blinked. “Um, well, yes. I have some experience with it.” She had tended to her sister’s and their friends’ injuries often enough back in Kirkwall.

“Excellent. Would you mind tending to Niamh here as best as you can while I go find Velanna? I’m pretty sure my sister fractured a few ribs in that fight earlier.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry if she gives you any trouble; she has a history of being a terrible patient,” she added, earning a pained grunt for her troubles when the woman in question elbowed her sharply in the chest.

---

And before Bethany knew it, she found herself alone with the Warden-Constable in her quarters.

She was trying not to blush at the sight of the woman reclined against the propped pillows at the headboard of the bed. Modesty didn’t seem to be an issue for the other mage. Without another word, she had undressed—with a few occasional winces here and there as the movement pulled at her injuries—and was now bare from the waist up, save for the bindings around her breasts.

Bethany couldn’t help her own wince when she saw the livid bruising that covered the right side of the woman’s torso. It almost looked like the trunk of a tree had been slammed against it if the abrasions and bits of bark embedded into the cuts were any indication.

And she kept insisting to try and walk on her own with an injury like this? she thought in absolute disbelief before delicately pressing the tips of her fingers against the bruise. Despite being as gentle as possible, it still drew a sharp hiss from the Warden-Constable, and Bethany jerked her head up to see the other woman’s clearly pained visage.

“Sorry!”

“No, it needs to be done. Keep going,” she insisted even as pale eyes closed themselves to focus on breathing in and out evenly—albeit with some difficulty.

With permission given, Bethany laid her hand out over the woman’s side, drawing her magic out with a silvery-blue light. From there, she began sounding out the extent of the Warden-Constable’s injuries by feeling where it burned hottest beneath her palm—an indication of how bad the damage was. There was always a tickling sensation that spread out to her fingertips whenever she gently coaxed broken bones back into place. It was akin to puzzle pieces slowly sliding back together before she could encourage them to heal, and she waited for the pulsing waves around them to fade into a dull echo before focusing on the next fractured bone.

As for the bruised muscles surrounding them, they were far easier to deal with. Bethany poured magic beneath the skin in gradual increments—droplets of rain spilling into a cup one by one—until she felt the burning heat simmer down to a more bearable ache. She continued the process, slowly sliding her hand along the woman’s side until the patchwork of blues and blacks which had covered its expanse faded into a yellowish tinge and the superficial cuts had closed themselves. Bethany pulled away then with a satisfied smile.

“What song was that?”

Bethany blinked, turning her gaze up to see silvery eyes staring at her curiously. “Hm?”

“You were humming something while you were healing me.”

“Oh.” She felt heat gathering along her cheeks at the revelation. “It’s an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When my father first taught me healing magic, I used to hold my breath while I was performing the spell, but as you can imagine, it’s not a very sound idea unless you want both an unconscious healer and patient.” Embarrassed laughter spilled out of her then as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “After a time, I learned that humming a few songs was useful in reminding me to breathe.”

“I see.” The Warden-Constable smiled, looking a great deal more relaxed as she reclined further against the headboard. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

The Warden-Commander walked in then with Velanna in tow, and the warrior seemed surprised to see her sister still in bed. “Did you actually manage to get her to stay there the entire time?” she asked incredulously.

Bethany blinked in confusion at that since her patient had otherwise been well-behaved. As it was, she could only nod tentatively, causing the other woman to grin openly.

“Hah! Well done! I didn’t expect Stroud to send me someone who could cow her into submission.”

The Warden-Constable’s eyes narrowed then. “It was not my hearing that was damaged in that fight, Saoirse. You would do well to not make such comments before me,” she deadpanned, and despite the threat, it only drew hearty laughter from her sister, who soon drew her attention back to Bethany.

“Stroud said your name was Hawke, right?”

She shifted uncomfortably, having grown too used to her surname being used to refer to Emrys, but she nodded all the same. “I’d prefer just to be called Bethany if that’s alright.”

“Ah. Understandable. Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I both answered ‘yes’ in the same room whenever someone called out for a Warden Cousland.” She smiled. “In any case, welcome to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens, Bethany. We’re glad to have you with us.”

---

After that, Bethany settles into Vigil’s Keep.

She sends letters home every now and then, but they’re usually only addressed to her mother. They’re never really long—just enough to let her know that she’s alive and well. Although Bethany realizes it’s a petty thing, she doesn’t ask about Emrys or send her anything for that matter. She’s still angry and resentful that her older sister managed to escape their adventure down into the Deep Roads unscathed while she got cheated out a future, leaving her to a life of killing darkspawn until the Calling finally takes her into the abyss of death. 

Melancholy is ever her constant companion, but eventually, she gets paired with Niamh for missions, who teaches her much about their duties as Wardens over the months, which takes them all around Ferelden. They deal with darkspawn sightings and document areas where they’ve sealed off underground routes into the Deep Roads with earth-based magic, hopefully preventing them from returning so regularly to bother nearby provinces.

As partners, they slowly become closer.

---

"Do you regret it?" Bethany asked one night as they sat by the campfire, watching as Niamh effortlessly flicked a hand to control the size of it just as a strong wind passed beneath the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under. "Being a Grey Warden, I mean?"

Niamh paused, giving the matter some thought. "There are worse things to be, I suppose." She shrugged. "For a time, I hated the idea of being a mage because it took me away from my family. However, my being a Grey Warden was likely the only thing that saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of them when Howe plotted his coup. It likely also saved me from dying at the hands of my colleagues in Kinloch Hold when one of the Senior Enchanters overthrew it with blood magic and his followers.” She looked over at Bethany then. "Truthfully, I enjoy being able to see more of the world than through the cage the Chantry kept me in. I like the experience of being a part of it even in the moments that people dislike most."

Niamh held a hand out past the edge of the overhang, casually catching droplets of rain in her palm. Bethany watched as a slow smile spread across her features at the sound of another crash of thunder, and she couldn’t help how her own heart seemed to quicken upon seeing that serene expression.

"Our lives are more finite than they ever were," Bethany said distractedly, knowing all Wardens had only a few decades at most after their Joining.

"They are," she conceded. "That’s why I intend to make the most of it." Niamh's expression then turned sheepish as she turned back toward her. "I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it?"

"No," she admitted, but as mellow as the other woman was, she was hardly surprised. Niamh had a way of remaining positive despite everything else life seemed to throw at them. Bethany smiled in spite of herself. "It was an honest one though. Thank you."

---

Every day is always an interesting adventure.

If not darkspawn, they deal with brigands out on the road or aid people across the countryside. To Bethany’s surprise, their help is openly requested sometimes when they reach a new town or village. Following the Blight, the utter bravery of the Grey Wardens had earned them Ferelden’s deepest respect. Thus, despite the fact they’re two mages traveling about, their regalia draws easy admiration and conversation alike.

It’s admittedly an odd feeling to have as a mage: to be wanted.

Bethany slowly grows to enjoy it though, especially when she can help with her magic so openly without being reviled for it.

Sometimes the jobs asked of them are simple enough: deal with a band of thieves, rid the area of rabid animals encroaching too close to farmland, helping out with some odds and ends around the village, etc.

Given that Niamh is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, Bethany also ends up learning a lot of survival skills from her during their travels together. She’s endlessly amazed by how the other mage utilizes her magic in combat and with other tasks such as hunting or fishing.

Bethany’s understandably shocked when she realizes that Niamh knows how to shapeshift, often scouting the skies as a raven to search for any nearby danger or roaming the wilderness as a sleek-looking, black wolf to hunt for game. It’s an unexpected revelation, especially since the other woman admitted to having been a part of the Circle most of her life before being recruited as a Warden.

She’s never met another mage so intriguing.

While Anders had been a benevolent healer, offering his skills to those most in need, it was his restless anger—an almost blind righteousness—over the plight of mages that gave Bethany pause.

Merrill was sweet in comparison, of course, and Bethany never minded talking with her even if there were the occasional cultural gaps that led to amusing misunderstandings at times. Still, the other woman held an interest in blood magic that Bethany wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with. After all, she had grown up hearing about the dangers of such magic from the Chantry. Then again, Andrastian religion also denounced who she was as a person as well, which was depressing in its own right…

While Niamh’s aptitude for elemental magic alone is impressive, Bethany is certain the woman’s shapeshifting draws upon some form of ancient or arcane magic—something well outside of the Circle’s teachings. It draws her curiosity endlessly. As such, Bethany asks her about the skill one day. Niamh just smiles, idly toying with the wooden ring that sits on a cord of black leather around her neck, revealing that a former companion taught it to her.

And that’s how Bethany learns about Morrigan.

---

“What?” Bethany exclaimed when Saoirse revealed how she was able to survive the slaying of the Archdemon. “You’re telling me that she and Niamh were able to…” She trailed off, trying to fight the blush burning across her face as her mind began imagining the possibilities of how such a conception was possible.

“You know, I thought to ask Niamh the technicalities of it once, but given she’s my baby sister—and obviously lacks the essential, uh, tool for the matter—I just decided it was best not to pry,” Saoirse answered dryly. She idly waved her hand about. “I don’t care to learn about her intimate life any more than she cares to know about mine,” she added before the corner of her mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “But for all intents and purposes, Kieran is my nephew, and Morrigan’s very much family now despite her protests to the contrary.”

“And he has the soul of an Old God?” she asked quietly as she turned to look at Kieran and the two women who were his parents.

Oghren had heard of their latest visitors and was—

Bethany squinted in confusion.

He was doing some type of weird jig in front of the baby, who was currently in Morrigan’s arms. Unfortunately, the erratic, uncoordinated nature of it did nothing to amuse him or his mother. Seemingly uncomfortable by the sight, Kieran gave an unhappy whine before reaching out toward Niamh, little fingers grasping repeatedly in her direction. Morrigan transferred him easily into the other woman’s arms when it was clear she wouldn’t mind holding him, allowing her to dryly berate the dwarf while Niamh comforted their son.

“So Morrigan says, yes,” the warrior answered with a shrug. “I originally turned down her ritual because I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting an innocent life to such a fate, but I can’t be mad at the result. I still have Leliana because of it, and I can see how much Niamh adores both Kieran and Morrigan.” Her smile softened. “She has a piece of the happiness that I always wanted for her—something Niamh felt she could never find in this world, terrible as it is for mages at times.”

Bethany couldn’t help but agree at the latter sentiment.

Looking at the three of them, they certainly did seem like a happy family. Still, Bethany couldn’t help but feel some small pang of envy. While she had discovered that Niamh could draw just about anyone into easy conversation with her, she was rather private about her personal life. It wasn’t until recently that Bethany discovered she was even in a relationship—let alone one involving another woman. She had no issue with the idea or with Morrigan for that matter. The other mage was well-matched with Niamh on the basis of intrigue alone, but…

Bethany bit her lip.

After all those long months together with Niamh, she couldn’t help but feel—

Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue when she realized sharp, golden eyes were staring at her over Niamh’s head—as if somehow reading her thoughts. Morrigan was tall for a woman of Fereldan origin, but not nearly as much as Saoirse. With her dark hair and pale skin, she was as bewitching as she was powerful—her magical aura a fount of seemingly endless, wild energy. Bethany almost felt like prey beneath the other woman’s gaze, and she averted her own nervously.

Thankfully, Morrigan made no comment about it, but Bethany did wince when she heard her suggest turning into bed early to Niamh. She and Kieran had arrived relatively late in the day after all, so they were no doubt tired from their travels. Niamh gave no objections, and they soon headed off to the woman’s personal quarters.

Bethany sighed soundlessly.

She was no stranger to infatuation. Her attraction to Leliana back in Lothering was a testament to that fact. Granted, it was also somehow deeply ironic that her commanding officer was now married to the same lay sister who had since gone on to become the Left Hand of Divine Justinia.

Sometimes she couldn’t help but think the Maker enjoyed toying with her in subtle, annoying ways. In any case, like with any other infatuation, she would just have to wait for the one she had on Niamh to run its course.

It couldn’t last forever after all.

---

Spoilers: it does.

---

During one of her occasional visits, Morrigan left Kieran temporarily in the care of Niamh to follow up on a magical lead involving some of her arcane research. As they weren’t needed outside of Vigil’s Keep for anything, Bethany also got to watch over him as well, and as she did, she brought up a question that she had long been curious over.

"You said you started the ritual with Morrigan when you were already a Warden, weren't you? I thought Wardens became barren after the Joining though?"

"Hm. That's the assumption, yes," Niamh said as she idly waved a stuffed griffon over Kieran, delighting the baby instantly as they laid on the floor together. "I’d been a Warden for a little over a year at that point. Perhaps it was still soon enough that infertility hadn’t affected me yet, or the spell did something to compensate for it."

Bethany just nodded as she looked over at the two of them. "I see bits of you in him."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she admitted easily enough. "There's his sweet nature, the way he seems far too clever for his own good at times, and how his eyes light up whenever he smiles or laughs."

Niamh chuckled, flattered over the assessment. "Morrigan and I are always arguing about it. I see more of her than me in him, but then she retorts that he’s retained my love of sweets and just about every known creature in existence." Her smile widened when tiny, grasping hands finally succeeded in pulling down the stuffed griffon in her hands, and Kieran wasted little time in snuggling the toy to his chest with a pleased hum.

"Do you regret not being able to see him whenever you wish?"

"Sometimes," Niamh answered, "but Morrigan’s mother…" She trailed off with a frown even as she ran a hand affectionately through her son’s hair. "She’s powerful, and she’s hurt her before. I can understand her caution. I’m willing to go years at a time without seeing them if it means they’re safe."

---

Morrigan eventually returns, and she takes Kieran with her to hide and do magical stuff as Empress Celene’s Arcane Advisor in Orlais as per canon.

Several months pass.

Although Niamh had professed to understanding the need for her little family’s relocation, the distance means that visits from them are now few and far in between. Bethany can see how much the other woman misses them and how she worries about their safety. She often catches Niamh distractedly playing with the ring on her necklace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

As if anticipating that, Morrigan does send letters to Niamh every now and then, and Niamh’s entire expression lights up every time she receives them, learning how the other woman and Kieran are fairing in Orlais along with how their son continues to grow by leaps and bounds.

She cannot fault the happiness Niamh has found with Morrigan, but it also serves as a constant reminder of what life will never offer to Bethany.

Eventually, it gets to a point where Bethany grows resentful of their relationship because her own feelings for Niamh are just so strong by then. It causes her to lash out at Niamh one night in camp, angry with how calm and positive she always is despite knowing they all have a death sentence over their heads.

---

"What world do you live in that you see it through such an idyllic lens?! You can wax poetic about this life all you like! I never asked for this! I never asked for the darkspawn to steal what little I had from life only to be made the gatekeeper against the very things I despise most in this world!"

And Niamh was quiet for the longest time, having stopped mid-sentence over Bethany's sudden tirade. As the silence continued to drift over their camp, so too does a veil of sudden cold air, and Bethany realized far too late that she’d crossed a line with the other woman.

"No one does, really," Niamh admitted at last, the warmth gone from her voice. "Save for Saoirse and my brother, I lost most of my family, but the terrible thing was that it wasn’t even darkspawn that killed them or even the Blight. It was just one man’s petty greed for what he felt was owed to him. He pretended to be my family’s ally for decades, and under the cover of night, he used his men to slaughter nearly the entirety of my bloodline. My parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew… He was only eight when it happened, you see. Oren wanted to a warrior like my siblings. He was trying to defend his mother with one of those wooden swords young boys tend to play with, but against the likes of Howe’s men...”  She clenched her jaw. “They gutted him just like everyone else."

Another pause stifled the air between them even as Bethany stared at Niamh, horrified.

"Darkspawn are terrible, yes, but they’re not always as terrible as people," Niamh said, eyes narrowing as she looked into the fire. "We can be so far worse. If I'm at all patient, it's because I try to be kind in a world that offers so little of it. I want to believe it can be better than it was before. I want this to be a better place for our people, but I also want to ensure that tragedies like that never happen again. That the people caught in the middle—victims of simple circumstance—don’t have so suffer. If it means I must be a Grey Warden in addition to a mage, then I accept it. To do otherwise damns them as much as me."

With that, Niamh then gracefully rose to her feet and headed back to her own tent, leaving Bethany alone at the campfire.

The rest of their journey back to Vigil’s Keep passed without much conversation between them despite Bethany’s attempts. Niamh only said enough to give a suitable answer, but she never offered anything more beyond it. A vault door had seemed to close behind the cool grey of the eyes that had long enraptured her, offering little warmth. It was clear Bethany was no longer privy to the other woman’s innermost thoughts and feelings

Niamh wasn’t petty, however.

She still hunted when necessary so they didn’t starve, and as was long part of their agreement together, Bethany continued to cook whatever game she caught. Other than that, however, Niamh offered no friendly greetings in the morning when they woke or any words that allowed her to wander off peacefully into the Fade as she slept.

Bethany didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them.

---

When they finally return to Vigil's Keep, Saoirse is confused by how quiet and despondent her sister seems to be. Given how amiable Niamh normally is, she has a right to be concerned.

She pulls Bethany aside one night to ask what happened since they normally get along so well, but Bethany and Niamh haven't even spoken a word to one another since their return.

Bethany ruefully explains the situation, but she doesn't reveal the actual reason why she lashed out to begin with. As such, Saoirse just assumes it was just the usual stress of being a Grey Warden.

---

"Ah. It happens to the best of us, really. Here." Saoirse handed Bethany a tin box. Something Orlesian, according to the script on it. "Leliana’s currently away on business in Val Royeaux, but she sends care packages out to me whenever she can. This one's for Niamh though. It's tea," she explained with a laugh. "She loves this stuff more than anyone else I know."

Bethany still felt badly over the situation however.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Oh, Niamh’s too well-mannered to outright ignore someone,” Saoirse insisted with a brief snort. “If anything, she becomes more… Well. ‘Distantly-polite’ as my wife would describe it. Besides, I have it on good authority that she never turns down a good cup of tea.” A lazy, conspiratorial grin played on her lips then. “Especially if there’s a spoonful or two of honey in it.”

That eventually culminated in Bethany making tea for Niamh that evening, who had been locked away in her office as of late. Bethany was still nervous despite receiving permission to enter the room, allowing her to face the woman who she hadn’t seen in nearly a fortnight. Concern grew within her when she saw the shadows beneath Niamh’s eyes—a familiar indication that she had been working far too hard. She watched as Niamh struggled to blink the exhaustion from her eyes as she regarded her, but she otherwise said nothing, simply waiting to hear what Bethany required of her.

“I’m sorry," Bethany said at last, contrition clear in her voice. "This isn’t the life I would have wanted for myself, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you when you were merely trying to help.” She held out the still-steaming mug of tea in her hands—the very thing Saoirse had convinced her would make for a suitable peace offering. “Here,” she offered with a tentative smile. “If you’re going to be working through the night again, you should at least drink something.”

For a time, Bethany believed the other woman was just going to remain silent. It would have been well-deserved given how terribly she behaved the other week, but then Niamh reached out to gently take the mug from her.

"Thank you," she said at last, the ice slowly melting behind those wintry eyes, and as they did, Bethany could feel the vice around her heart gradually unhinge itself in relief.

---

Things pretty much go back to normal between them.

Niamh and Bethany are back on the road again, especially after several reports of wandering darkspawn near the outskirts of a town.

As expected, however, Bethany's longing toward Niamh is still there—constant as an evening star. Even with the taint of death coursing through them, Niamh’s aura emanates with so much life—like a forest in winter, cool and refreshing with the scent of pine buried beneath its depths, waiting to burst into spring’s lively greenery with just the barest spark of magic.

It fascinates her.

She often wonders if such single-minded focus is a side effect of the Joining other than the enhanced physical strength and the ability to sense darkspawn. She feels a hunger that is never sated, a thirst that is never parched, and also…

Amber eyes wander over to where Niamh is disrobing to bathe in the nearby river, and she catches sight of the elegant play of muscles along her back before she studiously turns her gaze away. She feels the way her face burns even as she feels something else stir in her veins.

---

While still traveling, they get attacked by some hapless bandits, and while the two women aren't hurt, they manage to lose one of their tents to a stray grenade.

They end up sleeping in the remaining tent together, but it’s small, and they huddle together inside it for warmth against the pouring rain outside.

Bethany is surprised when she unexpectedly wakes up in Niamh’s arms—one is around her waist, and the other is curled behind her shoulders—which pull her closer in sleep. Sometimes she’s amazed at just how warm the other woman is, and although she knows she should pull away to avoid any awkward conversations in the morning, she can’t bring herself to do so. This is probably as close as she’ll ever get to the intimacy she desires with Niamh, and while the moment won’t last forever, it’ll be one more memory she can cherish—something no one else can ever steal from her.

Idly, Bethany listens to the rain outside—now a gentle pattering instead of the rage of a growing storm—falling against the material of the tent, and the sound is so rhythmic that she begins to doze off again.

---

Sometime after that, they receive a letter from Stroud, who requests their assistance with a matter out in the Free Marches. Saoirse stays behind to oversee things at Vigil’s Keep, which leaves Niamh and Bethany to travel across the Waking Sea with Nathaniel as additional support.

They arrive in Kirkwall several days before the qunari invasion begins in full, but not long after they do, Nathaniel’s reconnaissance around the city reveals something terrible:

Bethany’s mother was murdered.

Bethany is understandably upset, but Niamh and Nathaniel do their best to comfort her. They end up holding a small wake in honor of Leandra.

By the time they manage to rendezvous with Stroud, the qunari invasion has already begun, and they’re caught in the middle of it, leading to the Wardens running into Emrys Hawke and her companions.

Emrys obviously wants to talk to her little sister, but Bethany is resistant to the idea since her emotions are still riding high with the news of their mother’s death and the ever-present resentment regarding how she was made into a Warden without her say so on the matter.

Niamh recognizes Bethany’s tension and politely tells Emrys to leave the matter be for the time being. There is little point in having a conversation if one half of the party isn’t ready to have it after all.

Running on adrenaline, the warrior objects and tries to push her out of the way, but Bethany retaliates immediately on Niamh’s behalf. She presses her hand against her sister's chestplate and essentially shoves her back several steps, momentarily forgetting her Warden strength. Both Hawkes seem surprised by the ease in which she can do that.

---

“Bethany?” Emrys uttered in confusion, especially as her sister outright glared at her.

"You do not accost Warden-Constable Cousland that way!"

“Wait… ‘Cousland?’” Emrys looked over to the woman in question, taking in the obvious staff situated across her back. A wolf’s head ornament adorned the top of the weapon in exquisitely-sculpted silverite, and her eyes slowly widened in realization, remembering tales of the mage who could bend the very heavens to her whims. “Wait, you’re the Storm Wolf of Ferelden? Sister to the Hero of Ferelden?”

The woman merely gave a long-suffering sigh in response. “I suppose I was being too optimistic in assuming Leliana’s tales would’ve lost their weight this far past Ferelden’s borders…”

---

Despite the chaos ravaging itself across Kirkwall, the Wardens can’t stay to help. As such, they’re not there to see the end of the invasion. It isn’t until Bethany returns to Ferelden with the others that she receives a letter from Varric, saying that Emrys nearly died in her duel against the Arishok.

While Varric takes the time to mention that Emrys is recovering, and that her bravery led to her becoming Kirkwall’s Champion, the idea that Bethany had nearly lost the very last member of her family is so shocking that she's left inconsolable one night.

---

"I was such an absolute wretch to her before we left, and she nearly died afterward!” she wept when Niamh came to check on her in her room. “She’ll never forgive me!"

The other woman’s eyes are sympathetic as she held her in her arms. "Don’t be so sure."

"How can you say that?" Bethany demanded as she looked up at her, eyes red and swollen with grief.

"I’ve seen the way you talk about her, Bethany. The memories stir up more than just hurt within you,” she explained. “They light your eyes up with joy in remembrance of them. I’m sure she misses you and wishes things had gone differently. She wouldn’t have bothered sending all these letters to you otherwise over the years.

"My siblings did the same when I was still in Kinloch Hold, where I often wondered if my family had forgotten all about me. There were times I feared my being a mage would have meant their love for me would have gone away, but it didn’t. I received letters from them all the time—sometimes over the most asinine things like Saoirse’s warhound tossing bits of her armor into the pig pen." Niamh rolled her eyes, but Bethany could see the fondness in her gaze before they refocused on her.

"Your sister has asked for nothing in return even in the times where you never sent word back. I won’t tell you how to resolve this. You were right in saying that no one truly asks for this life, but I believe she only had the best of intentions when she entrusted your safety to Stroud. Trust in that if nothing else, and if you still find the matter wanting, tell her so." Something sad and brittle lingered on the smile she shared with her. "The what-ifs hurt more than the reality of things at times. No one deserves that."

---

Niamh helps to cheer Bethany up over the course of several weeks.

They’re off in a nearby town, investigating more sightings of darkspawn, and Niamh goes downstairs to pay the innkeeper for breakfast while Bethany packs up some of her belongings to continue their journey. When she reaches for her staff, she blinks, startled to find an ice flower blossoming on the end of it. She stares in surprise at the door the other woman had left through because there’s no way someone else could have done this.

It's almost like something out of a scene from one of those romantic tales Leliana used to tell her back in Lothering. She had thought them nonsense at first—that surely no one actually did such sweet things in real life—but now…

Bethany gently brushes her fingers over the beautifully-conjured petals and leaves, feeling the cool aura radiating from them.

Now she’s not so sure.

---

During their travels, they’re ambushed by darkspawn, and in the middle of the fighting, the ground manages to crumble beneath both women’s feet. The fall is long and painful as they slide down an old mine shaft, and soon they find themselves down in the Deep Roads. Unfortunately, it's an area they haven't charted yet, so they have no idea where they even are.

They have rations from the last time Niamh hunted and smoked some game, but they know it won't last forever. They can feel the press of darkspawn everywhere against their senses, and it's difficult to get any real bearing down in the tunnels because of it. The ambushes are sporadic throughout the days as they try to find their way back to the surface. They have taken to sleeping in brief shifts so they’re not caught unaware.

One fight lags on long enough that they have to retreat, but their enemies lead them right into the lair of a broodmother.

Bethany has never seen something so hideous in all her life, but when she turns briefly to Niamh, she’s disquieted to find the other woman looks more terrified than she's ever seen her. She barely has time to think over that before the darkspawn attack them again, but now they have the broodmother and her various tentacles to dodge as well.

The fight rages on for quite awhile, long enough that Bethany voices the thought they might never see Vigil's Keep again.

---

“No.”

"Niamh—"

"No!" she repeated firmly, glaring as she lashed out with an arm, incinerating an advancing line of darkspawn to their right. "I am getting you out of here! I swear it!"

You.

Not us.

What are you planning, Niamh? Bethany couldn't help but think worriedly.

Then she felt the sudden rush of magic—causing Bethany to almost stumble in place at the overwhelming sensation—as Niamh’s aura manifested itself more tangibly in an array of colors. Blinding arcs of lightning and lines of roaring flames raced across her form, and Bethany could see her own breath forming in rapid, exhausted puffs as the temperature inside the entire cavern seemed to drop even as the stone walls rattled ominously from the breadth of absolute magic being conjured.

The power of it was soon unleashed as Niamh slammed her staff end into the ground, allowing countless rays of energy to simply explode from her body. They radiated out like spectral hands of vengeance, and the cries of the darkspawn were nearly drowned out entirely as utter destruction rained down upon them. Each blast hit like deafening peals of thunder, and the echoes of them spanned for several long heartbeats, leaving Bethany’s ears ringing even after everything eventually fell silent.

As the dust and debris finally settled from the turbulent winds, she could see the other mage leaning heavily upon her staff, utterly exhausted. Each breath she took seemed to be a laborious effort, but Bethany watched as those eyes remained keenly alert to their surroundings, waiting to see if any of the darkspawn she had laid waste to would try and attack them again. They both tensed upon hearing the low, wailing groan of pain, and they looked to the far side of the cavern to see the broodmother still alive—albeit barely.

While already repulsive, it was now a macabre mass of flesh, bleeding sluggishly from the wounds inflicted by Niamh’s attack. Bloated skin bore severe burn marks, and entire chunks of flesh were missing. One of the broodmother’s arms had been severed completely, but the heat from one of the elemental attacks had unintentionally cauterized the fat stump even if Bethany grimaced upon seeing the pink-tinged bone that still protruded from it. The broodmother’s entire form seemed to slump back with what they assumed was her final breath, but then the sudden sound of earth breaking behind them alerted them far too late to a final danger.

Bethany turned her head just in time to see a lashing tentacle sprout from the ground, and her mind barely registered the sight of it before she heard the frantic call of her name along with warm hands pressing against her side.

"Bethany!"

As if time had slowed itself, she watched in horror as Niamh pushed her out of the tentacle’s swooping path, but in doing so, the other woman took the brunt of the attack entirely. Niamh was sent flying into one of the naturally-formed pillars of the cavern, impacting it hard enough that it broke at its center, raining rubble down upon the mage resting eerily still at its base until she was buried beneath it.

Bethany’s eyes remained fixed on the sight even as she shakily rose to her hands and knees. An overwhelming sense of disbelief overtook when her longtime partner didn't emerge at all out of the stone pile. In fact, there's a terrifying lack of anything in that direction.

Nothing of the taint in Niamh's blood.

No sound.

No magic.

Just... nothing.

Distantly, she could hear the half-dying moans of the broodmother somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. Although Bethany was all too aware of how dangerous her current situation still was, all she could feel was a staggering rush of absolute rage building inside her. It seemed to grow with every beat of her heart until she could hear it pounding inside her ears—a drumming sound of accusation over the fact that she had been powerless to help someone dear to her yet again.

It was her anger that gave birth to the sudden burst of power—whether a second wind or simply a dying gasp, she didn’t immediately know—but Bethany whirled to face the grotesque beast, magic already gathering within her hands. With an infuriated cry, she pressed her palms out, and she felt the immense displacement of air around her immediately as she summoned enough force magic to take up almost the entire space of the cavern. The pressure of it proved too much against the broodmother, and Bethany watched impassively as its enormous body was flung toward the far wall with enough violence that it was reduced to a grisly splatter of darkened blood, pulverized bone, and putrid meat.

With its death, Bethany felt the presence of darkspawn waiting beyond the cavern retreat even further, as if afraid of tempting her fury. Safe from any immediate threats, however, she wasted little time in rushing over to where she last saw Niamh. She used her hands and magic to try and dig her out beneath the rubble, but when she found her, fear took hold of her immediately when she realized the other woman wasn’t breathing anymore. Desperately, Bethany tried to use her healing magic in an attempt revive her, but to her utter dismay, the chest beneath her hands remained impossibly still.

“Oh, no…” she breathed. “No. No! You can’t be dead! Niamh, get up!”

But her cry fell on deaf ears.

Despite her best efforts, no matter how much healing she tried to force through the other woman’s veins, Niamh didn’t respond. As each minute continued to pass by in silence, Bethany began to wonder what she’d have to tell Morrigan if she ever made it back to the surface, let alone the little boy with Niamh’s kind smile. It would be such a terrible thing, she knew, informing them the woman they loved died trying to save her.

Just like everyone that ever entered her life.

Leaving before she even got the chance to give her goodbyes.

Bethany withdrew her healing magic and began conjuring lightning beneath her hands instead—the same way Niamh had taught her once upon a time—desperate for anything that could attempt to shock some life back into the other woman. Niamh’s body jolted with each burst of power, head lolling about along the dirt, but she still remained impossibly beyond Bethany’s reach—perhaps now wandering past the Fade and into the Maker’s embrace.

At the thought, her anguish soon gave way to anger.

“Damn you, you selfish wretch!” she shouted as she pressed her hand over the woman’s sternum with another pulse of electricity. “I never asked you to try and save my life! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to just leave me here when I never had to chance to tell you everything! Not when you don’t even know I love y—”

Just as she went to jolt the other woman again, Bethany felt a hand firmly wrapping itself around her wrist.

Shocked, she looked up toward Niamh's face, especially as she heard a very weak cough. The other mage hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she saw how the still blue-tinged lips began to move—too soft for her to hear anything. Bethany lowered her head to listen more closely and soon heard a quiet question.

"...are you alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears began to fill Bethany's eyes again in spite of herself.

Even after everything they had both suffered through, Niamh's first concern had still been solely for her.

With a shaky breath, she carefully curled herself up against Niamh’s form, crying silently even as she rested her hand against the other woman's stomach to continue and apply weak, healing magic.

That was how the other Wardens found them later.

"There they are."

Bethany didn’t pick her head up off the floor, but there was little mistaking Morrigan's distinct voice. Saoirse’s own followed soon after.

"I owe you my thanks for this, Morrigan."

“Thank your sister; I would not have been able to find her were she still not wearing the ring I gave her years ago.”

A weary chuckled greeted the mage’s words. “Ever the sentimental woman, my little sister…”

The sound of heavy footsteps treading closer caused Bethany to look up, and she could see Saoirse kneeling down next to them. The warrior’s face was worn with stress, but there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she saw them both together. "It appears I owe you my thanks as well, Bethany." She jerked her head up then, shouting out an order. "Get a litter for them now!"

"But I'm not nearly as injured," Bethany protested, drawing her hand away from Niamh’s body self-consciously, especially when Morrigan appeared and began to take over healing and stabilizing the woman’s condition with fresh magic.

"No," Saoirse admitted even as her lips lifted up into a tired smile. "But you and I both know what a terrible patient my sister is. I’ll be depending on you to make sure she behaves herself if she wakes up during our trek back to Vigil’s Keep.” She gently clapped a hand over Bethany’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

“Warden-Commander—”

“No. Niamh and I have lost enough in our lives. It would have hurt me to lose her as well.”

---

Niamh remains unconscious for several days as she recovers back at Vigil's Keep.

Bethany and Morrigan basically take turns looking after her.

Despite the other woman’s position as a member of Orlais’ Imperial Court, it seemed Morrigan returned to Ferelden after receiving a frantic letter from Saoirse, saying that Niamh and Bethany had been missing for several days following a routine mission.

As mentioned in the previous section, Morrigan gave Niamh a ring, which would allow her to find her were she ever in danger. It proved especially useful when Niamh and the other Wardens were imprisoned in Fort Drakon, where Saoirse essentially put her foot in her mouth and ruined their attempt to sneak Queen Anora out of the estate she had been held captive in.

I believe the ring is only canonically available if a player is in a romance with Morrigan. However, I’m headcanoning that because she held Niamh in such high esteem, she gave it to her anyway.

Kieran is also present at Vigil’s Keep because there’s no way Morrigan was leaving him behind in Orlais. He’s about five years old at this point, and he’s grown to inherit both his mothers’ looks. A crown of dark, loose curls sits atop his head much like Niamh’s, and he even fashions a forelock like hers, which hangs in front of his right eye. His gaze is a piercing shade of gold reminiscent to Morrigan’s own. As a possessor of an Old God Soul, he’s also begun to speak cryptically at times, which is understandably jarring to those around him.

Bethany happens upon one such conversation by accident, and she immediately pauses in the doorway when she sees Morrigan and Kieran standing at Niamh’s bedside.

“Sire was caught within the paths of the Fade, Mother. She heard the voices of old ghosts calling to her, but she didn’t follow them.”

Morrigan indulgently runs a hand through her son’s hair. “Indeed; she did not.”

“She missed them though, but she still returned to us.”

“Of course. Why would she desire an eternity without you?” she asked with a fond smile, causing Kieran to giggle.

“That’s not why, Mother! Not completely.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She would have missed the Sunshine too much. She’s been following her warmth for years. It would have hurt her to be without it.”

Kieran’s words pull at Bethany oddly, but she soon pushes them out of her mind and quietly walks away, feeling too much like an intruder upon the small family.

Thankfully, Niamh regains consciousness not long afterward, and everyone is understandably relieved by this news.

As per usual, however, Niamh proves herself to be an exceedingly stubborn patient, but perhaps wanting to set a better example for Kieran after her near-death experience, she remains in bed for the duration of her recovery. The other woman doesn’t seem to mind too much, especially given that her son continues to keep her company, telling her of the various odd things he’s seen around Orlais and the even odder people.

After several weeks under Morrigan’s watchful eye, the witch begrudgingly says that Niamh's okay to begin light duty around the Keep, relieving the other mage immensely. She goes out herb-gathering, an excuse just to get out of the fortress, and Bethany volunteers to go with her.

Things are quiet between them for a time as they begin picking up elfroot to place in the shared basket between them. Their conversations as of late haven't been of anything too substantial. A good thing, Bethany thinks, considering her feelings for her and how close she’d been to revealing them. Soon, however, they're caught in the middle of a light rain shower, and Bethany says they should head back. She begins to lead their way out of the forest when Niamh’s words stop her in her tracks.

---

"I was waiting for you to say it again, you know."

Bethany looked over her shoulder in surprise to still see Niamh standing in the middle of the clearing, her gaze expectant. “What?” she asked nervously.

"When I nearly died, I heard you say something… significant to me,” she revealed, causing Bethany’s heart to pound as she stared at her in disbelief. “However, when I recovered and you never repeated those words again, I thought it might have been little more than a fever dream of mine." Niamh's smile turned sad then when Bethany said nothing else to her words. "Perhaps it was after all... I’m sorry. I’ve made this rather awkward then, haven’t I?” She took a few steps closer, reaching toward the basket of herbs Bethany still held in her hands. “Here, let me—”

But Bethany just let it drop to the ground before she reached out to grab the collar of Niamh’s cloak. The other woman seemed taken aback, but before she can even begin voicing a question, Bethany pulled her forward to kiss her desperately in the rain, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

As far as first kisses went, it was a touch awkward as their teeth clicked together, lips mashed between them. Bethany felt a moment of panic as Niamh pulled back, but before the urge to run away in mortification could overtake her, a warm palm pressed itself against the back of her neck, keeping her in place. There was the brush of knuckles as they ran along her jaw, and Bethany was just able to catch the silver of Niamh’s eyes before all thought fled from her mind upon feeling the soft press of the other woman’s mouth on hers.

Bethany followed into the easy guidance being offered, and they both soon settled into a comfortable rhythm that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She felt light-headed with giddy delight, and her hands reached out to hold onto Niamh’s hips, helping to ground herself there, as their kiss continued. There was a soft sound as Niamh sighed contentedly into her mouth, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment between them.

The thought seemed almost too impossible to comprehend, especially when she knew Niamh was committed to someone else. As such, Bethany pulled away first despite the sound of protest it caused. Despite her resolve, Bethany was reluctant to pull away from Niamh entirely, so she settled for gently leaning her forehead against the other mage as they panted quietly in the rain.

"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly, practically speaking the words against Niamh’s lips. "It wasn't my intention to interfere with your relationship with Morrigan."

As close as they were, there was little mistaking the clear confusion in the eyes across from hers. "'With Morrigan?'" Niamh repeated. "What does she have anything to do with us?"

"But… I thought—” Her brows drew together in consternation. “Aren’t you both together?"

"What? No," Niamh answered, almost amused by the idea. "When we laid together for the ritual, it was an agreement of mutual benefit meant only for that night. She's not—Well." An exhale of breath escaped her in the form of laughter. "Morrigan's admitted she's not interested in women—or anyone, really—in quite that way, but none of the male Wardens with us at the time dared to lay with her even if it meant sparing us all from death. She trusted me, and I her. I consider Morrigan one of my dearest friends, and we share Kieran together as a result of that night, yes, but we are certainly not bound together as others seem to believe."

And Niamh’s answer suddenly changed everything.

What Bethany had been feeling, what was now possible between her and Niamh...

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally realized she could have a bit of the happiness she’d always wanted for herself.

---

So everyone knows that they’re a couple after that.

Niamh becomes more overt in the romantic things she does for her—the very same things Bethany had thought were the woman simply being thoughtful. She finds out that Niamh had apparently been interested in her for awhile and had actually been ready to confess her feelings a few years ago, but their first argument, where Bethany had accused her of being too idealistic, had stemmed the thought immediately.

Niamh had been understandably heartbroken by the words, which was why she’d had been so despondent for weeks following the incident, believing Bethany had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. The apology in her office later had restored their friendship, and while Niamh had been disappointed it likely would never evolve into anything more beyond that, she was still determined to be a good friend to her if nothing else. 

Bethany’s completely exasperated at the idea that they could have been together long before now, but she realizes it was likely better this way.

She had needed time to get over her anger and resentment regarding her life as a Warden.

She needed time to get past her guilt and the complicated thoughts regarding herself and her faith.

And she needed time to grow into herself and discover who she was as a person.

She’s grateful that Niamh’s been so kind and patient over the years, and Bethany finds great joy in the new facet of their relationship together.

They’ve kissed and been involved in heavy makeout sessions around Vigil’s Keep—much to the exasperation of their colleagues—but barring the incident that led to Kieran’s conception, Niamh’s been celibate for years, and canonical dialogue in DA2 reveals that Bethany’s pretty much a virgin. As such, she’s understandably very shy and nervous about the whole thing. However, she knew every part of her would be in good hands with Niamh when they finally reached that point.

Their first time together takes place several months after their first kiss, where Niamh tries her utmost to make it a memorable thing for them. She takes Bethany to a grove they frequent together outside of Vigil’s Keep for a midnight picnic. The moon is full, and the skies are clear, revealing an endless sea of stars. Little fireflies dance over the surface of the lake while they sit on the grass along its shore.

It’s a casual reminder that for all their hardship, life goes on and finds a way through a magic all of its own.

They stargaze for and handfeed each other little bits of food in between kisses, but soon things start getting a little more heated. Niamh gently tugs Bethany onto her lap, who follows willingly, settling her knees on either side of the woman’s hips. Bethany takes some initiative of her own, pushing at Niamh’s chest slowly until she lowers herself against the grass, and then…

---

Bethany’s breath caught in her throat upon seeing Niamh’s features haloed by the soft glow of the little fireflies. Normally pale eyes had darkened at their edges with both pleasure and interest as she regarded her, leaving Bethany flushed, especially as she realized she doesn’t quite know what to do from there on out.

Perhaps having sensed that, Niamh reached up to gently run a thumb along the corner of her mouth, and Bethany barely resisted the urge to press her lips against the pad in a kiss as slim fingers then went to cup her cheek gently.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Niamh reassured as she brushed a few strands of Bethany’s hair behind an ear. “I quite like kissing you.”

But Bethany did want to.

She knew Niamh had more experience with sexual intimacy, and she worried she couldn’t be able to compare against the woman’s past paramours. There was no expectation in those starlit eyes however. Niamh was as relaxed as she had been when they first started, and Bethany knew she would have been more than content to lay with her beneath the stars if that was all she desired. She was always considerate with her feelings, never pressing her to do more than she was ready.

Thus, Bethany knew Niamh would be patient with her during their first time together.

“If I asked, would you show me what to do?” she whispered tentatively, and she watched as the corners of those lips turned up into soft smile.

“Always,” Niamh answered, gently tugging Bethany’s hand toward the buckle holding the front of her leather and steel-riveted brigandine closed. “Here. Help me out of this first please.” 

From there, Bethany quickly realized it all wasn’t quite as simple as the tawdry novels Isabela used to loan her made it out to be. Nothing really prepared for the warmth of the flesh beneath her fingertips as she gradually disrobed her lover of the layers that made up their Warden regalia. Fortune favored the bold, she knew, and she experimented by pressing kisses against skin as more was revealed to her. She smiled against Niamh’s sternum—pleased—when she heard the exceedingly rare quiver in her voice.

As promised, however, the other woman continued to give suggestions on what types of touches would best give pleasure, but she also allowed Bethany to set the pace of whatever she felt most comfortable with. With each encouraging whisper against her ear, each caress and rock of her hand became more confident. When Niamh shuddered beneath her for the first time—the barest hint of magic curling against her own—as she reached her peak, Bethany was convinced that she had never felt more triumphant.

And she didn’t think she had ever felt so unfettered when Niamh later returned the favor by kissing a line of fire down her bare body. Those mist-grey eyes never left her own gaze though. Bethany had long known how attentive the other mage could be. As their lead tactician, there was always a studious quality in how she approached anything set before her.

Feeling the full magnitude of that attention focused solely upon her, however, was another matter entirely. Niamh stared at her as if she had hung the very moon and the infinite tapestry of stars into the night sky. It was like she was her very reason for drawing breath, and the thought of that brought forth a stunning wash of emotions over her as she saw the clear reverence in those eyes—so much so that she couldn’t help the tears beading themselves across her lashes nor her soft, surprised exhale of laughter when Niamh leaned up to gently kiss them away.

It was only when she assured her lover that she was ready to continue that Niamh returned to her exploration. The woman was committed to learning every part of her, gauging every physical response—the touches that made her moan breathlessly or sigh in contentment with the press of lips against her skin—before reacting accordingly. She felt that dedication most vividly as a warm mouth settled between her thighs and began working itself thoroughly there.

Bethany couldn’t help but break eye contact with Niamh as she threw her head back against the cool grass, lost to the new but pleasant sensations coursing their way through her body. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, especially as the almost overwhelming heat of a tongue pressed itself flat and lapped languidly at her.

After a time, it felt like she was freefalling, and she blindly reached out toward Niamh. One hand sank itself easily into the tousled waves of raven-black hair, but with the other, Bethany found slim fingers gently intertwining themselves with her own. There was strength and reassurance within the warmth of that grasp—a steady tether to ground her—even as Niamh continued with her ministrations, quickly unraveling the foundations of her world.

Were you the answer this entire time?

Were you the one whom my heart was always waiting for?

Bethany found her answer just as her climax crested over her.

---

The next scene takes place several months after Niamh’s and Bethany’s first time together but just before the Kirkwall Rebellion.

Niamh heads over to Amaranthine to see her aunt, Eithne Mac Eanraig, since she's the Arlessa there.

Now, here’s where I’m veering off from canon.

Per the events of Awakening, the Warden ends up becoming the Warden-Commander, and for their services during the Fifth Blight, Vigil’s Keep along with the entire arling of Amaranthine was given to the Grey Wardens. The fortress and the territory originally belonged to the Howes, but after Rendon Howe’s betrayal, all titles and properties were stripped away from them. As such, the Warden-Commander would also become the Arl or Arlessa of Amaranthine.

Per my headcanon though, Saoirse felt that she couldn’t tend to both her duties as a Warden while also ruling over the arling. Thus, she suggests to King Alistair to let her aunt oversee it instead.

While Eithne is technically my own creation, it was canonical that Eleanor had three siblings prior to marrying Bryce Cousland. All the children of Bann Fearcher Mac Eanraig—also known as the Storm Giant—were exceedingly skilled raiders although Eleanor was the most infamous of them. Still, I headcanon that Eithne’s own prowess allowed her to take over as head of the family and their impressive fleet after her father’s death sometime before the events of DAO.

I also headcanon that the Mac Eanraigs and their fleet proved instrumental during the Fifth Blight, allowing desperately-needed supplies to travel to the country without fear of them being intercepted by pirates. When the reconstruction of Ferelden began in full following the defeat of the Archdemon, Eithne opted to expand the services of her family’s fleet, offering to escort any incoming and also outgoing cargo ships. This allowed trade to flourish in Ferelden since the threat of piracy was reduced greatly against the might of the former raiding family and their respective crews. With goods being consistently transported and received, it led to the otherwise pricey import and export tariffs being lowered significantly.

It expanded the influence of the Mac Eanraigs considerably to say the least, and while they were of minor nobility compared to the Couslands, the family was already well-respected for their long connection to the Storm Coast and their role in the Fereldan Rebellion as well as the Fifth Blight.

As such, no objection was given by Ferelden’s Bannorn when the Mac Eanraigs were consequently raised further in nobility by the decree of King Alistair and Queen Anora, allowing Eithne to officially be named Arlessa to the city of Amaranthine.

---

"Aunt Eithne," Niamh began, walking into her office, "may I have access to the castle's forge?"

The older woman was sat behind her desk, looking through various reports when she glanced up at her. Kind, weathered features warmed instantly. "Ah, there's my wee Storm Pup," she said as she rose to her feet to meet her. "You know you’re welcome to anything within the castle, lass. I take it that blacksmith of yours is being stubborn at Vigil’s Keep again?"

As per usual, Niamh found herself looking up at her aunt as she rounded the edge of her desk. While her late mother Eleanor had been roughly her own size, the Mac Eanraigs as a whole towered over most people with their intimidating height and broad-shouldered frames—traits that Fergus and also Saoirse inherited as they grew into adulthood. In her youth, Niamh remembered that her Aunt Eithne had also possessed her mother’s pale blonde hair, but it had since turned silver with age and was now kept in a neat braid that dangled in front of her right shoulder. She imagined that Saoirse would likely resemble their aunt greatly in looks over the next few decades.

…provided they find a cure against the Calling first, of course.

Morrigan’s arcane research had turned up several possibilities, but the latest one she’d found seemed especially promising. Still, Niamh put the thought from her mind momentarily to answer her aunt’s question.

"You and I both know Master Wade won’t allow anyone to go near his forge. He’d pout for weeks on end before we could convince him to resume work again,” she said dryly before shrugging. “Just as well, I suppose. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. What I have in mind is more of a personal project."

Dark grey eyes blinked. "Oh?" she intoned curiously.

"It's... Well." Niamh shifted from foot to foot, a tad nervous to put her thoughts into words. "I'm making matching torcs for Bethany and I, so—oof!"

No sooner after she had stated her purpose did Niamh unexpectedly found herself drawn up into a crushing hug by her aunt, who lifted her clear off her feet with the force of it.

"Haha!" Eithne crowed with delighted laughter as she twirled her about. "Wait until I tell your uncles about this! Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding in the family!"

"We had one a year ago for Fergus and Olithia," Niamh corrected hoarsely as she tried to wriggle out of her aunt's grip to little avail. Corded muscles built over a lifetime at sea ensured the woman’s strength was nigh unbreakable. "And there was another for Saoirse and Leliana before that."

"Details, wee niece, details," she brushed aside when she placed Niamh back on her feet again, placing large hands over each of her shoulders with a grin. "Honestly, I was half-convinced my ashes would be scattered across the sea before I saw my last niece be married off! Dermot!" she called out loudly beyond the walls of office to her second-in-command, leaving Niamh wincing from the sheer volume of it. "Break out the casks! We’re celebrating tonight!"

Niamh merely sighed, somehow glad that Bethany was currently away from Vigil’s Keep with Nathaniel to tend to a matter out in another seaside province. There was no way she’d be able to surprise her with a proposal otherwise.

---

Bethany didn't know what to really expect when Niamh took her out to their favored grove, but then she was offered a… necklace of some sort. It was thick and sturdy but exquisitely-crafted. It formed an incomplete circle, but there was no clasp holding both ends together. As she took the necklace into her own hands, she found there was a certain pliability to it as she stretched the space between the twin, silverite wolf heads open a bit more.

"I spent weeks getting the details just right," Niamh admitted. "The hardest part was finding the perfect bits of citrine to match your eyes," she added, pointing to the small, gemstone orbs held in the maw of each wolf.

"You made this for me?" Bethany asked, awed.

"Yes. It’s a custom from the maternal side of my family. They’re generally gifted to those of status or individuals who have achieved great deeds. The more bands woven together designate one's importance." Niamh's expression turned somewhat sheepish then. "I don't think it needs to be said that I think highly of you."

Bethany looked at the thick braiding and saw that there were at least five bands wound together in a cord and then welded together.

"I..." Niamh wet her lips briefly, as if caught beneath sudden nervousness. "I realize marriage is usually just a matter of settling titles and heirs, but I believe you know by now that my family tends to eschew commonly-held norms. As such, I would consider it a great honor if you were to become my wife. As for anything official—a wedding for instance—we needn't concern ourselves with it right away. Not if you don't wish to certainly." Silver-colored eyes rolled themselves. "Honestly, my family uses any type of excuse available to throw a celebration. They’ll likely still drink the night away, knowing that I’ve finally settled down with someone."

Bethany couldn’t help but laugh at that. "They were that invested, were they?"

"Before you, they had a tendency to think I was more married to my duty within the Order, and I can’t say that were not wrong in thinking so."

"And that’s changed?"

"Well... I was managing day by day as well as any of our comrades, but I won’t lie in saying that there came a point when you were all I could ever think about in the many moments in between."

It was… quite the confession.

In an instant, all the stories her mother had ever told her of romance paled in comparison to this moment.

"Yes," Bethany said at last, watching as the ghostly-grey eyes across from her widened, but there was little hiding the hope building within their depths.

"Yes?"

"Yes to the—" She stumbled a bit over the word. "—torcs, you said?” Bethany asked in clarification, earning her a nod along with a very relieved sigh. “I don’t want a ceremony.” She bit her lip as she stared down at the thickly-braided necklace. “At least not just yet, but I like the idea of the promise these contain.”

“You would like to have your sister here when the time comes,” Niamh deduced understandingly. “Very well.”

“You can wait?”

A very warm smile burnished beautiful features that she had long fallen in love with so many years ago. “A Chuisle Mo Chroí,” she began, voicing an endearment that never ceased to make her heart flutter, “for you, I would gladly wait a thousand Ages and more.” (Writer’s note: A Chuisle Mo Chroí is phonetically pronounced Ah Khush-lah Muh Kree and means “Pulse of My Heart.”)

The words earned her a heartfelt kiss of gratitude. If Niamh noticed Bethany was trembling, she said nothing of it. In fact, they both had little to say at all as they slowly lowered themselves to the grass and surrendered themselves to the night and the promise of everyday thereafter.

---

The Kirkwall Rebellion still happens in this verse, and because Saoirse's busy butting heads with the higher-ups at Weisshaupt, she sends word to Niamh, asking her to go to Kirkwall to provide Leliana backup if things get bad. Bethany is concerned as well about the well-being of her sister Emrys, and she asks to go with her. Niamh, of course, can't really deny her anything, so they both take the fastest ship across the Waking Sea.

---

"There you are," Bethany declared when she managed to come across her sister and her companions despite the chaos around them. She settled her staff over her back, walking through the tangle of defeated Templars around her to meet them. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I'd almost feared you were dead."

Emrys hadn’t expected Bethany’s presence in the city, but she’s beyond elated to see her. At her words, the warrior merely preened. "As if they'd be able to best me. And, uh, what’s this about 'we?'" Emrys asked, confused. “Did you bring the other Wardens with you?”

“Just one.”

As if attuned to her thoughts, Niamh made her entrance then by Fadestepping through a handful of Templars—who had arrived on scene as backup—freezing them in their tracks. She and Bethany had momentarily split up to try and cover more ground in search of Emrys.

Bethany arched a brow at her sister while gesturing toward her lover with an emphatic wave. "You remember Warden-Constable Cousland, don’t you?"

Emrys had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as she recalled their last meeting, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she regarded Niamh. "Oh. Yes. Uh, about the last time we met—"

But Niamh seemed amused more than anything, waving aside the apology graciously. “Bygones, Champion. No need to worry yourself about the past. My sister’s a warrior as well; I’ve fared worse on the rare occasion."

"In any case, Sister, if you need help, we’ll gladly give it."

“Really?”

“Yes. I…” Bethany swept a bit of hair behind her ear nervously, but as Niamh settled alongside her, offering her wordless support, she continued on. “I wanted to apologize for what happened down in the Deep Roads and for how we parted the last time I was here. You saved my life, but I couldn’t see past my own anger back then. I’m sorry,” she whispered, contrite. “I should have said it long before now. You’re all I have left of our family, so if you need help against the Templars, say the word.”

Emrys looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of having her at her side again. “I’m certainly not going to turn away help now of all times, but…” She shot a look of confusion over toward Niamh. “I thought Wardens weren’t to involve themselves in political matters?"

The other mage merely sighed. “While true, that follows a line of policy that my sister and I strenuously object to, especially given the matter involved here. She and I will deal with the leadership at Weisshaupt later if need be." Slim shoulder shrugged themselves then. "Of course, even if my sister-in-law weren't nearby, Bethany wanted to help, and that was good enough reason for me to be here."

Emrys’ dark brows rose at the claim, and she immediately turned a searching gaze over toward Bethany, who couldn’t help but turn her own away, flushing somewhat.

"Yes… Niamh and I are a bit of a package deal these days."

Unfortunately, the minor shift in movement allowed for something else to be revealed, and Isabela took notice of it immediately as her eyes darted toward the area of her neck just beneath the collar of her uniform.

“Wait… is that a torc?" she asked, brows raising, impressed.

“A what?" Emrys asked, flustered, especially when she saw the matching one that Niamh was also wearing.

“It's a little bit of tradition from my mother’s side of the family,” Niamh explained. “They’re beautifully-crafted pieces of jewelry, but they can be as symbolic as rings, especially in the ceremonial sense."

"'Rings?'" Emrys parroted with a choke. “‘Ceremon—’” The warrior paled instantly as she realized the implication, shakily pressing her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself when she began swaying in place. “Oh, Maker’s breath… I think—I need a moment,” she murmured, and Bethany watched—concerned—when Emrys practically folded in over herself, working to catch a breath. After a time, Emrys’ comically-wide blue eyes turned over to Niamh. “You’re married to my baby sister?"

"Engaged, technically," Niamh answered, blinking owlishly at her reaction. “I proposed to her before we left Ferelden."

---

Annnnd then Saoirse shows up because she got worried about Leliana, and she and Emrys get along like peas in a pod. They’re exceedingly competitive with one another though...

---

“Hah!” Saoirse crowed, grinning smugly at Emrys as she rested the flat of her greatsword along her shoulder. “Is that the best Kirkwall’s Champion can do? I managed to neatly cleave my opponent in half.”

Emrys merely scowled, matching pace with Saoirse as they marched toward The Gallows. “Only because I helped! Besides, that strike wouldn’t have held against him if he had a shield as well!”

“Yes, it would have!”

“Lies!” Emrys scoffed. “It would have been caught halfway through the shield before you would have been able to reach his armor!“

“Not with the proper leverage it wouldn’t have!”

As they argued heatedly about sword techniques, Niamh and Bethany shared a long-suffering glance with one another before moving on ahead of their respective sisters.

“Warriors…”

“Indeed.”

---

Eventually, this all culminates in that huge battle at the end of DA2, where Meredith is defeated. As per canon, it becomes clear that it’s no longer safe for Emrys and her companions to remain within the city without eventually facing possible repercussions from the Chantry. As such, they begin scattering to the winds not long after the end of the rebellion.

---

"You could come with us, you know," Emrys suggested.

Bethany looked over to where her sister stood next to Isabela, ready to board the ship that would take them to Antiva. Emrys’ expression was almost painfully hopeful, but Bethany knew it wasn't meant to be. Although she had resented it once upon a time, she had a duty to the Wardens, and she would not easily abandon it. She said as much to her sister.

"No. Niamh currently seeks a cure that affects the lives of every Warden."

"A cure for the Calling?” she asked, surprised. “Is that even possible?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is easily the cleverest person I’ve ever met though. If there is a solution, she will be the most likely one to find it, and I will not stand to be apart from her."

"I see.” Emrys rubbed the back of her neck, shoulders slumping somewhat. “So… this is goodbye again."

It was admittedly a bittersweet feeling, knowing that this had been the first time in years they had seen one another and it would likely be several more yet before they would meet again.

"For now,” she answered quietly. “You have your life, Sister, and now…" She glanced over at Niamh, who was talking to the captain of a ship heading back to lands far to the west—ones that had never been touched by the Blight, according to Morrigan. “I have mine.”

Emrys followed her gaze. “You seem happier."

"I am."

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know? Just to know that you were happy.”

“I know that now." Her smile turned more genuine as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Emrys, hugging her for all she was worth. "I wish the same upon you always. Safe travels to you and Isabela, Sister."

---

And as mentioned in the bullet points up above, they spend several years traveling abroad. Some days are harder than others as they meet their fair share of challenges, but Niamh and Bethany support each endlessly through it all.

They both return to Ferelden several years after the Trepasser DLC when they’ve found a cure for the Calling. With the taint purged from their bodies, they’re guaranteed the long life that would have otherwise been denied to them. As such, Niamh and Bethany finally get married—torcs gleaming bright—as Leliana as Divine Victoria officiates the wedding.

---

And that’s pretty much it.

I have about 20 pages of random scenes I’ve yet to elaborate on for this AU, including one for the huge battle at the end of DA2, so while I don’t see it as being nearly as long as OtSttCA, it’ll likely make for quite the lengthy read when I finally get a chance to work on it properly.

Still, if this verse interests you, leave me a like, a comment, or just swing by my inbox to tell me your thoughts! Until next time, readers! Take care!

[honey-hippie-harper]

through the burning shell

Hello it’s been 84 years.

This is fun :): I wrote this as a Christmas present for @obsidianfr3sk (YES DAWNIE KEEP POSTING YOU CHRISTMAS FICS DURING MARCH. YOU GO GIRL) and it’s a sequel to my other fic “through the bleeding shell” where I basically try to save Simon and Hugh from the queerbaiting MM turned them into by adding a certain degree of complexity to their relationship. This is a story about gays, grief and a dead friend + Simon defending Nova bc I don’t roll with Supernova. Hence, I am not morally obligated to obey canon <3

Anyway afgdhjafghsj i don’t think you need to read the first part to understand this, and I hope you like it <3. I don’t want to give much away, but this sort of turned into a collaboration that got out of control and @obsidianfr3sk might write a third part in the future ;)

through the burning shell

“There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”

Being all together, right there, Simon saw Hugh narrowing his eyes, staring directly at Genissa Clark, formerly Frostbite, now neutralized, along with the rest of her team.

Well.

Almost all of them.

“That’s true.” Hugh started, and Simon couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t have answered. A part of him was getting a pretty bad feeling from this. “For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”

“Why stop there?” Said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.”

The same fate.

His brain struggled to make a connection between that sentence and the one Hugh had uttered. At first, he didn’t understand. A couple of fast seconds later, Simon realized that, by saying “fate”, she was referencing something.

She was referencing, more specifically, Ace Anarchy’s sentence.

A death sentence.

Accomplices.

The Anarchists.

“Nightmare deserves the same fate.” Nova deserves the same fate. “Nightmare must die… And I want to be the one to do it.”

Nova must die.

And I want to be the one to do it.

A child killing another child, publicly, with the Renegades’ permission.

A child they had taken under their wing, Genissa Clark that is, killing another child, who had been in Simon’s house, who had touched Adrian’s heart, and who had made bad choices but was still a person. The official version of the events said she had stabbed Max, and Danna claimed she was Nightmare, but they hadn’t taken any declarations or anything, so that story might as well just change.

Simon couldn’t help but feel she didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe because she actually didn’t. It didn’t feel fair.

One thing was sentencing Ace Anarchy, the man who had lifted an entire city, leaving a ridiculously huge number of deaths in the process, who had stolen, broken and burned, who had killed a man (the mayor) and his pregnant wife, who had killed his own brother, sister-in-law and possibly his two nieces...and another, pretty different thing was to allow this 19 year old girl kill a 16 year old one, who had some crimes that could put her into jail for like 3 or 5 years, but weren’t horrible enough to give her a death sentence. She was a minor. She wasn’t yet beyond repair…

And if she was to be executed, then she was still a minor. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. She didn’t deserve her life to be taken away with so little dignity.

Not by Genissa Clark.

Not like that.

And, stars, please, not now.

Not right now.

It was unthinkable, it was barbaric, it was animal, it was almost as if…

A quiet chuckle.

A quiet chuckle that, suddenly, interrupted his train of thought and, with all the pain in his heart, he was able to recognize in a blink.

Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark, nonchalantly, was blackmailing them. She was trading her silence for the legal permission to kill someone, in front of a crowded arena. And Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark wanted to murder Nova, and Evander was chuckling.

“Is that all it will take to quit their complaining?”

What else did he want?

“Works for me.”

Simon almost flinched to the audacity. To the severity of the implication. To the way he was saying it. So smug. So relaxed, so….Evander it almost made Simon mad.

That was so Evander lately.

Because, lately, Evander didn’t understand anything. Not even because he had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. There was life inside that woman. Life that had come from him.

How couldn’t he understand?

How could somebody be so cold?

“These are lives we’re discussing.” Simon reminded him, shooting a look in his direction.

“Villains’ lives.” Evander responded. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”

Villains’ lives were still lives.

Nova was a person.

Nova was...Nightmare, but before Nightmare, she was Nova, and Hugh and him had met her personally. Adrian had met her personally.

And, besides, with this logic, then all the Renegades were to be executed.

After all, Agent N was meant to be used by Renegades. They were the ones who were planning to neutralize people when they felt threatened. But when Nightmare did it, then she immediately deserved the death penalty.

Hugh would understand that. Everyone would understand that, just like Simon did.

They had to understand it.

Hugh had to understand it.

-.-

Yet, he didn’t.

Some time ago, Hugh had pledged to understand. Not directly per se, but he had pledged it in the name of his cause.

He promised he would understand.

And then, when he needed to understand the most, he didn’t.

He said he would.

Then he fucking didn’t.

“How can we run a city, much less an entire world, if we’re busy dealing with every trivial bit of bureaucratic nonsense that comes up?” He said.

“This solves two problems at once.” He said.

And he said that to Adrian’s, their son, face. Their son, who was just trying to help, by questioning how morally correct was to do something like that, just like Tamaya, Kasumi and himself had done, being ignored in the process.

“We need that right now. And we need to be united in this decision.”

“And why’s that, exactly?” Adrian asked. “Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

In that moment, Simon knew Adrian had never spoken to Hugh like that. He had always been a pretty calm kid, who liked to question their decisions sometimes because, as a Renegade himself, of course he would feel uncomfortable or have doubts sometimes. But never had he called Hugh out. Not in that tone. Not with that entire bottle of venom flowing out of his mouth, melting his teeth, and mixing with his boiling blood.

Simon felt unable to tell him to stop, after his own voice had been ignored, and Hugh pretended Evander was the only one who mattered in the team. And it wasn’t that Evander didn’t matter.

It was just that he was wrong.

Besides, harsh as that sounded, Simon still couldn’t believe that those stinky, rotting, putrid, nauseating words had come from Hugh’s mouth. His Hugh. The man he had decided to marry, because he loved him so, so much, for him had been able to see him even when he was invisible. Literally.

Right in front of his eyes, Hugh morphed into a caricaturesque villain. His hands, which Simon had held so many times, were suddenly covered in both dry and fresh blood, red as an apple, but smelling like death.

Death.

The same death that was living like a parasite inside of his eyes, the only place that other people could harm. And the parasite was traveling through his system, all the way to his brain, spinning it around like a mirrorball, and eating from it like he was nothing.

Hugh’s hands were tied, too, and the strings were made of rope, a material he could easily tear apart, but seemed to have forgotten about that.

He was like a puppet, as the press, as society, and as tons and tons of eyes pulled from the ropes.

And nobody knew how to free him, not even himself.

“Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

Adrian’s voice haunted him for days. The way in which he said that haunted him for days, and after a while, Simon just accepted he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. It had become another one of the wounds he carried, open and bleeding, through life. The worst part of it all, was that Simon knew Adrian was right. That, at this point, everyone but Hugh, Evander and Genissa Clark were right.

But if he knew where had they gone wrong, and if he knew he didn’t agree with this monstrosity...why did it hurt so much?

How did you speak to a person who didn’t want to listen?

And, most importantly: Where were you supposed to get the courage to do it from?

 -.-

 Nova had spent seventeen days in Cragmoor Penitentiary when Adrian said he wanted to see her. He had been so mad at her, that it caught Simon off guard.

Not that he wasn’t able to understand it.

Adrian had had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout his life but, from what Simon could see, Nova was by far the one he had been the most serious about, to the point it almost seemed she was the one who would stay. Simon would’ve wanted to see his partner too, no matter how mad he was at said partner, if he knew they had been sentenced to death.

As fast as they could, knowing they were facing an authority (Adrian had asked them to be with him in the room), the wardens brought her right away, in a matter of minutes.

Through the glass, Simon saw her, on the metal platform, with her arms and legs being held, tightly, by braces, which were equally made of metal. For the look in her eye, Simon could almost hear her desperate begs for her visitor not to be Adrian. Yet, he had been, and he wasn’t alone, which, if anything, only made it worse.

Simon, from his part, was staring at two different glasses at the time. The one that divided them from Nova, and Adrian’s glasses, which revealed the pain he was penetrating Nova’s soul with, and also the rage he was entitled to feel.

But Nova looked small.

She, in fact, looked as small as she actually was.

She was almost a kid. She hadn’t yet started living. Yet, she was locked up here, and would only be taken out to be killed.

Nova’s body was shaking, just like Adrian’s. Her chin was quivering so much it almost seemed like she was cold, and Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. He felt nauseous and dizzy. And so evil and so guilty.

For some reason, he pictured a child, because Nova had been a younger child once, full of joy and innocence.

 He pictured a child. Just like that.

 Maybe she was wearing pigtails, had a gap between two of her teeth, and bruised legs, because she liked to play outside with her friends. Maybe, before she became Nightmare, she had something else to hold on to. Maybe she, like many people out there,  had hoped for the Renegades to come, and when they didn’t do it, something became numb, and cold, and she started freezing to death, just like she would remain freezing, suspended in History, as the interrupted life who was the proof the Renegades had become the one thing they promised they would never be.

And Simon didn’t want to be part of that, yet he was still here.

He was still here, thinking about how fortunate he was that Nova wasn’t staring back at him, but at Adrian instead, as selfish as that might’ve sounded.

Simon felt he had lost the right to look her in the eye, having been the one who promised her, on several occasions, that she could look into theirs.

With each one of his limbs becoming tense, Simon took a deep breath. His mouth tasted like bile, and his whole body was pounding along with this heart. It felt like one of those times when you were almost a hundred percent sure you were having a heart attack, despite knowing that, if that was the case, you would already be on the floor crying for help.

Next thing he felt was the sudden and strong urge to speak.

He would’ve liked to talk to Nova, but through this glass, she couldn’t hear anything.

Besides, Simon knew that this moment wasn’t about him, or Hugh. They were involved in it. They were carrying it in their backs like a cross, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Nova and Adrian. There was glass between the two. They could press their hands together through it, but they couldn’t touch the other’s skin. They couldn’t feel the air the other breathed in the short distance. They couldn’t kiss. It was scary. It was sad. And it wasn’t awfully familiar.

But it wasn’t about Simon or Hugh.

“Do you need some privacy?” Simon asked, perhaps to both of them, knowing one wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if she tried.

In response, Adrian turned his gaze away from Nova, staring at Simon instead, nodding.

“I think that would be nice.”

Before Simon could say anything else, Hugh reached for his son’s shoulder, and once he touched it, he caressed the fabric, and the skin beneath the fabric, briefly.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

Adrian nodded again and then, after gulping, he said:

“I love you, okay?”

The weird thing was, he didn’t look them in the eye for much. He did, but he turned his gaze away pretty fast, barely leaving time to process his own words. For that reason, nor Hugh or him responded.

They left right after that, leaving Adrian alone inside the room.

With Nova, but alone.

 -.-

They dropped Adrian at the hospital once they left Cragmoon. There was barely any sound throughout the whole ride, except when Hugh asked if they wanted something from the store, and when they said goodbye to Adrian.

Obviously, Adrian couldn’t get close to Max. Not if he wanted to avoid being neutralized by him, but sometimes, according to Adrian himself, he liked to stay in the waiting room, and help the staff with whatever they needed, for he liked Max to know he came to visit often, and that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t touch, or be in the same room with him. So they just allowed him to stay in the hospital as much as he needed. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anybody.

After that, everything was silent, all the way home, because, instead of driving towards the Headquarters, Hugh drove towards the mansion, leaving Tamaya in charge, under the excuse they would take a two hour break to have lunch together at home. She wasn’t so happy about it, but agreed anyway, because it’s not like Hugh had given her an option in the first place. He had just notified her. At this point, Hugh’s volume was getting the tiniest bit loud.  And Simon wasn’t talking about his voice.

Upon arriving into the house, Hugh threw the keys by the entrance’s table and proceeded to walk all the way towards the living room, to lay on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, without even taking his costume off. He didn’t have a reason to, because they were supposed to be back at the Headquarters in two hours and, besides, the elephant in the room was making it cold. Maybe he felt his armor would protect him from what they were doing, and from what they were still doing.

Sadly, the fabric of Simon’s costume wasn’t as warm. And as he took his mask off and placed it next to keys, he felt nothing but cold wind. He was back again at being Simon, and Simon only, without anything protecting him, in the same room as the husband who rarely ever kissed him anymore.

There was an elephant in the room, and it was killing both of them, though Hugh looked like he was already dead.

Simon tried not to pay attention to him, but when he was crossing to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but ask, in an unintentionally harsh tone:

“Are we going to have lunch or did you just want to make Tamaya more stressed?”

Hugh lowered his arm, staring at him with an arched eyebrow, lifting his neck just a little, to have a clearer view. Simon was starting to feel bad for having snapped at him, but not enough to take it back.

Sometimes you had to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing was not taking it back.

His husband, from his part, looked rather confused, as if he couldn’t recognize the person in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

The question caught him off guard.

Was he okay? Simon wasn’t sure, nor did he want to answer. In times like these, Hugh wanted people to answer him what he wanted to hear and, sadly, this time Simon didn’t have any answer he would like.

“Did you take your pills, Si?”

Something inside of his body turned into a tight knot, and Simon turned his gaze towards him, in a violent act. He frowned so deeply he felt his skin itching, and though he knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve just interpreted this as a routinary question, this time it wasn’t the case at all. This time it felt like an attack. Like something Hugh had to take back immediately because it was not his place to ask it, that is:  a question he always asked anyway.

But not this time.

Because ,this time, he wasn’t okay.

“Don’t pull the anxiety card on me, Hugh.” Saying that left a bitter, disgusting firm on his mouth, right under his tongue, which was dry. He felt like he had just chewed on a pill.

“The anxie--” Hugh narrowed his eyes, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not pulling that card on you. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t ask that question.” Simon snapped again, heading towards the kitchen to get a class of water. His feet were making too much noise when in contact with the floor, and his mouth was too dry. It was making him crazy.

It was only then that he realized they still had something else pending, and for some reason that was enough to make him stay. Simon spun on his toes, facing him. Hugh was breathing heavily, and his brows were almost touching each other.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” He told him, in a dry tone. “Did you want to have lunch with me or did you just think taking a break while Tamaya loses her mind would be fun?”

“If Tamaya didn’t want to be in charge, she would’ve told me, and you know that.”

“Tamaya talks back when she is given a chance to.”

An empty feeling of freedom filled Simon’s body, pushing his way into the hollow all his mixed feelings had been carving at the center of his stomach.

And it wasn’t just about Tamaya, really. It wasn’t just about how lately none of her ideas were taken into consideration. Rather, it was about how nor were Kasumi’s, or his own ideas, when they tried to speak up. It was about how things were getting weirder and weirder as time went by, to the point where Simon would see a very pregnant Tamaya in the hallway, apparently fine, but stating she didn’t know if her water was breaking or if she just really needed to use the restroom (the restroom where she didn’t fit in); it was about how everyone knew damn well that Kasumi wasn’t good at public speaking and that, if anything, it just worsened her selective mutism, and yet many important speeches were given to her; it was about how Simon felt like he was talking to a wall, and how that made him feel, suspect, even, that Hugh was back to being trapped in a closet he was already too big for.

It wasn’t just about that, in conclusion.

It was just the tip of a bigger and more messed up problem.

“Well, if you want Tamaya to go bathe in her Greek goddess shower-pool-whatever that thing is, then fine. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her to take the day off, and we go back to the Headquarters.”

 “That would be great, actually!” Simon laughed sarcastically. “But you know what would be even better?”

“I don’t, Si. You tell me.”

It was a rhetorical question.

The nerve.

“That we would act like a team. That we would stop lollygagging around and take realistic turns to have our breaks, because each one of us have lives, and we’re not the only ones who have needs.” And that was about Kasumi feeling like she couldn’t do it today but having to anyway; it was about Tamaya crying in the BBQ Sunday, explaining to her husband how she wanted her baby to be with her, as a baby bawled into her arms, trying to reach for his father, because she spent so little time at home her youngest son wouldn’t recognize her sometimes; it was about Evander claiming Sandy didn’t feel like being alone with her baby bump today, but showing up at work anyway.

And yes, they had pledged to do this, but they were supposed to be in it together.

“But how should I know?” Simon hissed. “It’s not like we’re a Council or anything.”

The bile was all over his mouth now, and Simon felt possessed. He didn’t know how to stop it, and the words just kept coming, and coming and coming, as Hugh stared, half-startled, half mad.

Simon felt like he was a loaded gun that was ready to kill everything that moved, for a reason and a cause.

All those repressed feelings. All those things he desperately wanted to say but never could. The anxiety. The desperate, insatiable craving for a touch that never came. For a kiss. For anything. For a sign. A sign of whatever. One single sign, that would just let him know Hugh was still here.

“It’s not like you needed the majority of us to agree to sentence that minor to death.” He let it go, and all the air, along with his soul, left Simon’s body. “It’s not like Evander and you needed such thing, did you?”

Hugh’s confusion frown suddenly shifted.

Then, all Simon saw was the embodiment of anger, with his cheeks becoming flushed, and his knuckles becoming yellow.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

There was one word to describe that tone, and that word was condescension.

To Simon, the gut-wrenching feeling of frustration that caused him was indiscriptable, and he didn’t wish it to anybody. He would’ve preferred Hugh to scream at him, or just refuse to answer at all, because he couldn’t take it.

He had had people talking down to him his entire life. He wasn’t willing to keep tolerating that.

And in the moment he stared into Hugh’s blue eyes, Simon knew there was no turning back. Because sometimes the right thing to do was not taking it back.

Others, it was not holding it back.

“No. In fact, it’s not about that.”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?!”

“YOU TELL ME!” Simon howled, getting one step closer to him, and all the memories started flowing...more likely, overflowing, including that time when he had talked to Kasumi and Tamaya in the living room, just like as if they were teenagers, instead of grown ass people, about how Hugh was leaving, even though he was still right there.

Right there, looking like a corpse.

A blue, stiff corpse.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded way less threatening than he had intended. “Why?”

“Are you really going to pull that card on me?”

“I am going to pull it because I want to know!” Simon barked, pointing at his own chest, which was getting tighter and tighter with every second. “Why don’t you ever touch me anymore? Why am I always invisible to you, even when I’m not? Why are you so fucking cold all the time? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?!”

Hugh wheezed, maybe pretending it didn’t make sense, or maybe pretending he hadn’t understood at all. Still smirking, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at Simon, scratching his chin, and clicking his tongue.

“So...Sex.”

Simon’s heart was pounding.

“Yes, sex!” He yelled, shameless. “And kisses, and hugs and my husband! That is what am I asking for!”

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! WE’RE BUSY!”

“WE’RE NOT BUSY NOW!”

“SO YOU WANT TO GET LAID NOW?!”

“I’M NOT GETTING LAID WHILE THINKING ABOUT HOW A CHILD WILL BE EXECUTED BY ANOTHER CHILD BECAUSE I WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!”

“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME! SHE TRIED TO KILL MAX!”

“FIRST: AN ATTEMPTED ASSASINATION IS NOT ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEBODY A DEATH PENALTY, AND, SECOND: THAT’S WHAT GENISSA SAID!”

“ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Simon screamed, covering his ears with hands.

He didn’t know why, specifically, the ears, knowing that, in reality, his eyes were the problem, because every time he closed them, he saw Nova in that chair, like an animal. And he saw Genissa standing in the lobby, playing with them like puppets; he saw Evander’s despicable smirk when he told Genissa to go ahead; he saw Adrian’s furious eyes as he called his own dad a dictator; he saw Hugh.

Mostly, he saw Hugh, and the caricaturesque villain version of him, which Simon despised with every inch of his being.

Then he was back at the beginning. At Nova.

Nova, who had tan skin, pitch black hair and slanted blue eyes. And Nova, who looked familiar when she smiled, because she looked similar to that man who had come to the Headquarters asking for help, whose smile looked similar to the other person who carried their blood.

And Simon couldn’t help but consider it as a real possibility. And if he happened to be right, then they were failing her.

For the second time.

“It’ll never be enough, Hugh.” He declared. “Because she…”

Simon’s internal knots became tighter, to the point they were suffocating him.

“How do we know who this girl is?” he questioned. “How do we know it isn’t her?”

“Her, who? What are you talking about?”

“Her. The one we failed to protect.” Simon felt a tear slipping from his eye, as he became closer and Hugh walked backwards. “Uh? How do we know that? How do we…?”

But something stopped him.

 And that something was Hugh’s eyes, turning grey as chromium.

He was breathing fast. Faster with every second, and where maybe he saw anger, Simon saw nothing but deep, stored pain, flowing out of him like sweat, or like the tears that weren’t there.

There was Hugh’s bleeding shell again, protecting him like he was a small child curled up on the floor, in a ball, through a polarized surface where Simon and him couldn’t touch, and where nothing could hurt him, while everything could at the same time.

There it was.

The despicable, horrid, bleeding shell.

Except this time it wasn’t bleeding. No. No.

This time, the dense, bubbling blood was falling off it, reaching Simon’s feet, and the shell was in flames. Tall, untamable flames, that were burning the roof and everything surrounding them.

The shell was burning, while Hugh was inside of it, and nobody could get him out before he was burned to death.

Why didn’t he let anyone help him?

Why did he insist the flames weren’t there?

Why couldn’t Simon hold his hand?

Why was he so far?

“We didn’t fail to protect her. She died.” Hugh declared, and when Simon saw his lips quivering, he realized they weren’t talking about Nova anymore.

“She didn’t fail. She died. “ Simon saw the silver painting Hugh’s fingertips, as tears started rolling down his face. “She died! SHE DIED, WHEN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME, SIMON!”

The bleeding shell was burning, and Simon still couldn’t find his way in.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! AND SHE DIED! SHE DIDN’T FAIL TO PROTECT ANYONE! SHE DIED! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! SHE DIED, SIMON! SHE DIED!”

Their eyes met for a couple of second, and the connection vanished after a blink.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE DIED, IT’S MINE!”

Hugh was sobbing, like a small child, and Simon was too.

“...It’s...it’s mine, Simon. Always has been.”

And they were so far, despite being so close, that they were left with holding themselves tight.

Because there was no way to get into the burning shell, for Hugh, strangely as it sounded, had never said those words out loud, because he thought the picture on the wall behind him, the one with the woman wearing a floral pink dress with their son -who was also hers- sitting on her lap, would hear him and that would make her sad.

Yet, Simon knew she wasn’t sad at the moment.

He knew her well enough to know she would’ve been disappointed, instead.

Anybody would be if they had to see their family kill the one thing they had died trying to protect.

“No.” Simon declared, calmly. “But I’m not going to go and try to convince you otherwise because I know it’s not the right time.”

Hugh started shaking.

“Si…”

“And I won’t be a part of this, either.” Simon declared, firm, still staring at the picture through the corner of his eye, yet still fully focused on Hugh. “From now on, all you’ll get from me is silence in regards to the issue. I’m not willing to be a part of it. I don’t agree with this. I will never agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And I’m glad I don’t. In fact, I hope I never do.” Simon wiped his tears with his palm, and before continuing, he tried to find his Hugh one more time.

He was still there.

Simon hadn’t yet given up on him, but he didn’t feel like telling him that at the moment.

For some reason.

“If Adrian wants to see me, tell him I’ll be at Kasumi’s.”

“Simon.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrist, and a simple wave from Simon’s hand was enough to get it off. Way too easy, for a person who happened to have super-strength. “Simon, please. Don’t do this again. Please. SIMON!”

But Simon did it again anyway.

Later, he wondered what Adrian had felt when he abducted Max from the hospital and left a note for them.

He also wondered what everyone else had felt when the real Nightmare showed up.

Not that he was mad at them.

He just wondered what they had felt.