#alistair and cian become friends again later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

musicfeedsmysoul12 · 6 months ago

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“We are the last of the Elvhen. Never again shall we submit,” is spoken around a fire. Cian, clad in blue armour that fits a bit strange on him and listening to the tales of his people, catches the eye of Zevran, who looks half-awed and knowing.

Cian smiles.

Cian is born of a father who dies before his birth and a mother who walks away. She is broken by the birth of a child she did not actually want and the loss of a man she loves.

Ashalle lies later, telling the son she raised his birth parents loved him. His mother just… hurt.

Cian never asks about his mother much. He will never know just how much like her he is.

Cian has no magic thrumming in his veins. Marethari frowns and sighs. She wants one of her clan to be her First. No magic has been born in their clan for years, and she worries. They have to trade a child, which she does not want.

It’s when she plans for Cian to marry Merrill, settling the matter in her mind as perfect for the clan, with Cian’s magical heritage.

Cian doesn’t like it.

Travelling with humans is strange. Cian is used to tents. He and Tamlen would roam far when they could, hunting away from camp. Using a tent was nicer than spending it on the harsh ground.

But it’s the lack of chatter in Elvish. It’s the strange lack of children running around arguing about something. The children sneaking into Master Ilen’s ship to steal some of his safer inks to make their own Vallslin, being chased away with shouts.

The lack of Halla and their comforting scent, the lack of one of the Harhens calling for ears to tell stories. The lack of the Keeper speaking.

With Duncan and the wardens, there is noise. Chatter and cheer. They welcome him and his animal companions, though they eye him carefully as he sips from the vials given by the Keeper. The Taint in him is strong.

“You have remarkable will,” says one of the older Wardens a week after Cian left his clan.

“I had to,” Cian replies. He doesn’t mind the Wardens. None have called him names, and most are willing to part with coin if he fixes their gear like he fixes his own after a bandit ambush.

But it’s not his clan.

He isn’t sure if it’s a good or bad thing.

He’s been to Ostagar before, travelling with his clan. It has been a while. The Kocari Wilds isn’t a place he or his clan likes much; the magic of the air is strange and almost like thick honey walking through it, even without a connection to the Fade.

It’s fuller than he’d expected, with people everywhere and a kennel of dogs. Fen grumbles next to him, and he places a hand on the wolf’s head.

“Calm. I’m not getting a mabari,” he tells the wolf. He walks with his companion to find Alistair. Alu, his owl, is with Duncan, who apparently helps with the birds that the other Wardens have.

It takes only a single conversation for Cian to decide he likes Alistair.

And that he’s nice to look at.

Cian is engaged to Merrill when they are seven, and he doesn’t think about it, even as Marethari drags him into lessons about leading the clan. He doesn’t notice, but Ashalle does the way the Keeper talks down Merrill about her knowledge of the stories, praising Cian, who is more interested in Ilen teaching them how to make armour.

Ashalle sees how Marethari appears to try to push Cian forward more as the proper next Keeper to balance Merrill out.

She purses her lips and ensures her charge spends more time with Master Ilen, away from the pressure of the Keeper.

But it’s not just her.

Cian is ten when Marethari tells him he needs to focus on her lessons over Ilen’s. He frowns at her.

“Why? Merrill will be Keeper. I wanna be a crafts master!” Cian beams and Marethari sighs in her usual way, making everyone feel two inches tall around her.

“Because she needs a guiding hand,” Marethari says. “She is too flighty.”

“She’s always studying!” Cian protests. “Honestly, it’s boring.”

“She needs a guiding hand,” Marethari repeats, but Ashalle steps in, and Cian is off.

He only later realizes Merrill does not have an Ashalle to spirit her away from Marethari.

The trip through the wilds takes a day and night. Cian drinks his potions and lays against Fen, who munches on a deer he brought down himself. The small group rests until the next day to go to the ruins where the chest they seek is.

Jory mutters something about elves that Daveth smacks him for, and Cian ignores it.

Alistair passes the elf a bowl of stew and gives Daveth his next—a silent reprimand to Jory for his words.

Cian can’t help the small smile.

They meet a witch and Asha’Bellanar. Cian knows who she is instantly and bows his head to her. She laughs and grins at him.

“Clever boy, bearing the markings of June. I wonder, clever child, what marvels have you made with your hands… what freedom have you sought in leather or wood,” the woman murmurs.

Cian is glad to be short of her, shuddering.

“That amount of power and age is never pleasant,” he tells the others. “I’ve met Zatharian, and he unnerves me too.”

“Whose that?” Alistair asks.

“An asshole,” Cian says, and it gets much laughter.

It’s true too.

(Later, before… before, Alistair looks at Cian and agrees. “He is an asshole.”)

Cian is fourteen when he kisses Merrill. Both make disgusted faces.

“Eww, you’re like my sister,” Cian tells her.

“You’re my brother,” Merrill agrees. He has been stealing her away from lessons since they were ten. The adults let him, laughing at the ‘cute betrotheds’. Usually, they just run around playing so that Merrill does not have to keep studying even after her brain hurts.

They go to Marethari and Ashalle, requesting to break the betrothal. Marethari refuses, but they only need one person to agree.

Marethari complains to some of the clan, and there is a divide: some who are upset and some who do not care.

Cian does not like it.

Cian finds a wolf cub and asks the Ranger of the clan for help raising it when he is fifteen. He names it Fen, earning mocking from Merrill and Tamlen.

“Wolf wolf.” Tamlen jokes, the warrior is leaning on Cian, who elbows him.

Marethari purses her lips and complains about Cian again choosing to devote himself to the rouge way of the bow rather than the warrior.

A part of the clan agrees with her. They press upon Cian ideals of a strong warrior leading the clan with Merrill as his wife. Cian responds by trapping all their travels with skills he’s picked up from the master of the craft, who laughs.

He is sick of being told what to do.

Cian sits on his bedroll and stares out at nothing as Fen cuddles close. Daveth and Jory died. Then Ostagar…

Ostagar burned.

Alistair hasn’t spoken since they left Flemeth’s hut, and Cian has only spoken to Morrigan to tell her to shut up. He doesn’t like her, and the words she spits at Alistair remind him of some of the clan who took to Marethari’s preaching about how Cian was going against the greater good. For having a mage born from clan blood was better than Merrill, who worked her fingers to the bone and more. Like how he should take the reigns cause, despite Merrill being brilliant, she was a naive child.

Merrill, who had come to the clan only speaking Elvish and, became sheltered by Marethari in an attempt at control.

Cian turns Morrigan away after getting a mabari (to Fen’s disdain) and reaching Lothering.

He has no use for reminders.

They pick up Sten and Leliana in the village, and Cian finds himself spending time with Sten, caring for Alu, Fen, and his mabari. Cian begins calling Da’Fen a joke. It stuck.

Cian wakes from nightmares of dragons and Darkspawn. He speaks with Alistair, and then his stomach twists.

Thirty years. The dreams. Nothing but death.

His choices stripped away.

Again.

Cian was a child when Marethari decided his future. As he grew he pushed and pushed against her desires. He did not want to be a warrior; he did not want to be a leader. Ashalle was a sturdy presence who stepped between them each time, and not all of the clan listened to Marethari. Yet enough did that, he was pushed towards a specific goal.

Cian was too stubborn to listen to them. Ashalle told him often as a child, his wishes mattered. She never told him of his mother’s hate for the idea of children and how she was pressed into it by the clan so that their Keeper could have an heir. How Marethari, the former Second to their old Keeper, led the charge.

Ashalle never told him that not only the loss of his father but also the fact that his mother did not want a child led her to leave. Cian did not need that on his shoulders. But it was what opened her eyes to how their clan tended to… discard the feelings of others, discard the wishes in favour of the greater good, decided by the loud-mouthed majority.

It is what causes her to stand between Cian and the others.

She saw a friend walk to her death in despair and anger over a lack of choice.

She would let Cian make his.

Cian chooses June as his Vallaslin, and Marethari huffs he should choose El’ganar. He refuses and makes loud comments about everyone who listens to what he wants. The clan tradition states that they get to choose who they want. Even the people who side with Marethari in her battle against Cian’s will would disapprove.

She glares at Cian, who just smiles back.

It’s his choice, and he makes it gladly.

They battle for a town overrun by undead. Cian and Fen work together as ambush predators while Sten steps in alongside Alistair to fight directly. Leliana has climbed up on a roof with her bow. Alu swoops down to distract. The villagers cheer and fight against the monsters who haunted them for days.

It’s like something out of stories.

But then it changes, and suddenly, Cian is in a story told only in hushed whispers around a fire—a story the clan's adults tell him only when he is older.

A tale of Dalish hunting their Keeper down when the demons win. Except they do not hunt down a Keeper here. No, they face down a scared child who now faces death. Who wanted his father to live. Who made a deal he didn’t understand.

Jowan speaks up, and Cian takes the deal.

Isolde is to blame in his mind. She hid Connor’s powers not because she feared the Circle but because she hated magic. He knows of Apostate Elves running from the Circles and the stories they share in horrified voices. But she just doesn’t like magic.

Fitting, she dies to save her son.

Alistair disagrees.

They yell at one another, but Cian only knows of death to free a mage from possession, and they’re damn lucky they could save a child.

Alistair has to agree with that, even if he still hates what Cian did. He also has to accept that the slightly older man doesn’t care about Isolde dying.

Later, later, Alistair will wonder if it was a sign.

They head out to the Circle Tower and get ambushed along the way. An elf who seems off is fighting them. He leaves openings and doesn’t take a shot at Cian, who had slipped on a oil-covered rock. It’s confusing.

The elf is named Zevran. And he is an assassin sent to kill them, though he offers his allegiance in exchange for life. Loyal to money, he claims.

Cian accepts, curious.

If he wanted to live so much, why try to leave openings to die?

When they're sixteen, Cian kisses Tamlen who is his best friend, other than Merrill.

Tamlen doesn’t like it, but Cian does, though only in the sense that he likes kissing boys.

He likes girls, too, and when their clans met, he shared a quick kiss with a pretty girl named Seranni.

But he likes boys a shade more, and he tells Ashalle, who pats his arm, smiling.

Ilen has no more to teach him, the craftsman claims. Cian isn’t sure if he should believe him given that the man’s other apprentice is on Cian’s level but still learning.

“He listens to Marethari too much,” the other young elf says, and Cian sighs.

Another choice was ripped away.

So it’s with a casual comment to the most chatty of the Hahren women that he likes boys. The comments about him getting over himself to marry Merrill die out. He likes girls; he keeps that a secret.

He smirks at Marethari, who is very upset.

Serves her right.

At the Circle Tower, Cian wonders if there could have been a different choice for him if he’d gone here for Connor. But then he’s fighting abominations, dancing around blades. He knows that there would have been a chance for Connor to kill more people.

It’s better what they did.

Fighting through the tower, they end up in the Fade because, of course, they do. Cian has never really enjoyed magic. Perhaps it’s because he does not have it himself or because Merrill used to try to practise her healing on him despite how much she sucked at it.

And the Fade is just… annoying.

He stands at Arlathan. Tamlen is laughing with Merrill, and the two are finally getting married now that they have left Sabre. Their new clan is strong, and Cian takes over as craftsmaster. Marethari is forbidden from going near them, her name spoken among other elves with distaste, and rumours abound that the Sabre clan is not being allowed back.

Cian drinks, and the alcohol burns as the Joining did and…

Wait…

What?

He hates the Fade.

No one asks what everyone saw in the Fade as they rest on the road, heading to Denerim to pick up supplies and get some gossip before going to Orzammar. Perhaps a bit of a strange way to go, but Cian knows how to check trails and tracks along with Dalish symbols, so hunting for a clan isn’t hard.

Wynne and Alistair act ashamed of their dreams. Cian doesn’t get it. It’s personal, yes, but… to be ashamed?

“There’s no shame in fears or desires,” Cian says while he cooks supper.

“Agreed,” Zevran laughs, the assassin sharpening knives near him. Sten grunts from where he is cataloguing their supplies.

“It’s the Chantry,” Leliana says. She is making potions and poisons herself as Alistair patrols the camp, and Wynne does… something magical. Probably a minor barrier to keep pests out of the camp. Merrill and Marethari used to do it, too. “They… discourage those things.”

“Aren’t you a… Sister?” Cian asks.

“I was a lay sister, seeking succour and sanctuary. I believe. But I disagree with some ideals,” Leliana says. “Divine Faustine II is remembered for her views on sexuality and gender that were barbaric. Still, people followed her because she was Divine.”

“Sounds like Marethari,” Cian can’t help but mutter. He doesn’t respond to the questioning looks, focusing on cooking.

Alu hoots from her tree, and the discussion switches to how he could get an owl to follow him around. This became laughter over the meaning of the names of his companions.

It’s a light after a dark time.

Cian saves an owlet from a predator and raises the tiny chick throughout its childhood. The Ranger of the Clan sits down to help him through some but is hands off. Other than to teach the Rangers secret,

It is a handy little thing, a simple potion to encourage a lifespan to lengthen. Not a match, but it’s close. A drop a day, the Ranger says. Fen also gets some now that Cian knows of the potion.

His companions will stay with him. It is glorious.

Cian is twenty-one when he and Tamlen confront humans, when they find a cave, and a mirror.

He’s twenty-one when he wakes up with a vicious ache inside him as the Taint settles.

“Join or die,” the Grey Warden Duncan tells him, face sad. Cian looks at Duncan and then at the clan. He thinks.

He chooses.

“I will join.”

It’s a choice he will both always and never regret.

Denerim is horrible, and Cian watches as Alistair’s fantasy of a happy sibling reunion shatters. The human sits at camp after they’d tricked the fake assistant to the Brother they are looking for into confessing before slaying him. He stares at a campfire.

“I don’t understand,” Alistair says.

“People… are…” Cian hesitates as Zevran sharpens his knives, unashamed in his eavesdropping. “People are complicated.” Cian decides on. “Not everyone is kind; not everyone has the best interests of others at heart.”

“People are out for themselves,” Zevran interjects, and Cian shakes his head as Leliana protests.

It seems the whole camp is listening in.

“It’s not like that!” The redhead says as Wynne tuts.

“You can’t go through life thinking everyone is trustworthy,” Cian interjects. “Always be wary but also kind. Sometimes, the fantasy is never real. And some people are two-faced.”

“It seems a hard way to live,” Alistair says, and Cian sighs.

“It’s not. Trust people, but always be aware that they may take advantage. It’s easy for someone to fake kindness while being a horrible person. Keeper Marethari was like that.” Cian says. “Life is a game of choices. Some people choose to be nice while hiding the venom inside.”

“Not everyone is like that,” Wynne says.

“And I’m not saying they are,” Cian sighs. Creators this woman. She was already reminding him too much of Marethari with her comments on the duty of the Wardens.

The only good thing about her was the healing she provided.

“I was told I received a good price,” Zevran says when discussing his being sold. Cian frowns.

“That’s rather terrible,” he comments. Zevran shrugs without care.

“It is life. Surely yours has not been so idyllic.”

“You can say that again,” Cian says with a snort. “Not to the extent of being sold to the Crows, but it’s been… troubling.”

“Ah, but now we are free,” Zevran laughs. Cian hums, leaning back on his hands.

He supposes they are.

To an extent.

Cian first met a human when he was five, and his hair covered his ears. The human threw a fit a ‘knife ear’ had a human child until Ashalle revealed his ears, and then the words became poison about ‘rats’ breeding.

Cian tries not to base his expectations on that. But…

He can count the amount of humans he likes on one hand. He’s not met many before becoming a Warden, but he’s met enough, and it’s a sad amount.

He meets Duncan, who is added to the list, and then Alistair, who he thinks is funny.

Then Leliana and… at first, he thinks she will not join his list. Morrigan didn’t. But Leliana listens to him, and they trade stories while walking—stories she’s gathered and stories he’s learned at the knee of his elders.

It’s nice.

They fight through Soldier’s Peak and meet a blood mage whom Cian puts into the territory of Flemeth and Zatherian (and makes him wonder how the Elf stayed alive so long). Avernus is willing to do ethical experiments, though, so Cian lets him live.

Wynne isn’t pleased, but Cian remembers Merrill’s bloody hands and her quiet comments about how easy it is—how she practices by herself at night.

Her rebellion. Her choice.

He lets the man live.

“You’re right,” Alistair says one day as they walk the road.

“About…”

“Being… not less trusting but more aware?” Alistair frowns. “I always believed that there was good and bad, no in between. But…” he sighs. “I met blood mages in the Wardens and always felt off around them. But… I never realized how much of a hypocrite I was.” He shakes his head. “There is more than just what I was led to believe, and I should listen.”

Cian pats the man’s shoulder with a soft smile.

He’s a good man.

Cian and Zevran spar at night. Cian is quick with a blade, like he is with the bow, so it’s fun. Sten joins in, having few chances working against ‘Tallis’ as he terms it.

The Qunari is interesting, and he joins Leliana in Cian’s small story circle. The others drift in and out as well; it’s just those two who stay the most.

When Zevran joins, the stories get raunchy, and it’s all very good fun.

“You’re a virgin?” Cian asks Alistair, unable to stop his mouth. He slaps a hand over it. “I am so sorry.”

“I just… never found the right person,” Alistair says awkwardly. “Was your first time nice?” The other Warden asks the others.

“Yes,” Wynne says with a smirk that has the group cackling (Sten grins a little) at Alistair’s face.

“The Tamasrens worried I was too aggressive when I was a teen and set me with a Tamaseren in training,” Sten says, sparking a few questions that lead Cian to be convinced Sten has a few kids running around, which the man shrugs at.

“It’s like the Dalish,” Cian says. “Some people want kids and don’t have the parts to have them together. I don’t know the common term…” he frowns to himself. “Las-pap or Las-mam are the terms, and I don’t know if there is a translation. But sometimes a pair of women or a couple where one is… ugh, the term is hanalen-ma. Found your true self. A person who discovers they are a man or woman despite not having what people think are the right parts? They may approach a man for his help for having a child. Similarly, a male couple or a couple where one is hanalen-ma will approach a woman.” He shrugs. “My first time with a woman was when they approached me to be Las-pap for them. I could have just… provided without sex, but they were both into men too and curious. I was, as well. I’d been with men but not a woman. It was fun.”

“How scandalous!” Zevran said.

“To you, maybe. To the Dalish, it’s just another way we have children. Mind, I keep my sexuality to my chest. Marethari would never let me hear the end if she knew I liked women and men.” Cian rolls his eyes. “What about you?”

“A teacher among the Crows. Common for the students to get it over with so we can seduce our targets.” Zevran waves his hand with a shrug.

“A lover when I was young. He was kind,” was all Leliana said. “Later a woman… she was… kind but not,” Leliana says no more.

Later that night, Zevran smiles a bit differently at Cian. A look slowly dragging up the dark-haired elf’s body.

He doesn't mind it.

Cain covers for Merrill and Tamlen when the two want to spend time together. Marethari disapproves of the relationship; there is something about Tamlen not being the right sort. He figures it's because Tamlen’s parents joined the clan after fleeing Edgehall’s alienage.

Marethari has ideas about proper. Ones some of the clan mutter that Cian’s father never had.

He doesn't understand the woman and wonders why she acts as she does, why she seems so certain of her beliefs and thoughts.

It's all so confusing.

The clan speaks about splitting. Marethari gives everyone a sad look when they do so. Some of them are quiet, while others roll their eyes.

“Stop trying to guilt trip us like we are naughty children,” Ashalle snaps. Marethari huffs in response, but the younger woman ignores her.

Cian overhears it and thinks about it. Marethari always seems to act like she is a long-suffering adult dealing with children towards all the clan. It's not nice or pretty. He speaks to Tamlen about it, and he agrees. Merrill bites her lip.

Marethari may be harmful, but she is the only mother Merrill knows.

Cian, though, decides to join the others when they leave. It'll annoy Marethari to no end and she will fight. Cian’s bloodline is special to her for it belongs to Sabre. But he will not listen to her.

He won't. It's his choice, and he will not let her choose his path for him.

It's a pity the cave happens first.

Zevran kisses Cian after they find a golem named Shale, and Cian offers them a choice to follow.

“I believe in choosing,” Cian says whenever any party asks if he's upset the control rod didn't work. Honestly, he'd thought Golems to be magical constructs without personality. He had no idea what they were thinking.

It's a soft kiss, and it deepens when Cian kisses back. The two elves fall into bed. Cian keeps a dagger close, however.

He isn't that trusting.

“You have a,” Wynne begins, but Cian shuts it down and tells her to leave if it bothers her that much.

He is not here to have his life controlled, and he makes it known. This is the first time he has talked to the camp about his clan. It comes out, and everyone listens.

It's not the story of Zevran, Leliana, Sten, or Alistair. But it is his story, and they listen.

Wynne sighs and says Marethari had good intentions. Sten comments that breeding leaders is good, but some people do not suit specific roles. “You are a fighter, not an administrator.”

Alistair and Leliana sympathize while Zevran drags him to bed to ‘cheer Cian up.’

It's a good day.

Orzammar is awful. Cian hates being underground and the politics they end up being dragged into. He also hates how two-faced everyone is and despises how the candidates for king smile while expressing anger.

“Behlen is the best choice,” Zevran announces.

“He killed his brother,” Wynne says.

“And he will allow the casteless rights,” Leliana says. She is a little less cheerful in the city. Less cheerful since she spilled her tale to Cian. But she is still kind.

“But-” Wynne cannot argue.

Cian is glad to leave her behind as he, Alistair, Shale, Fen, Da’Fen and a dwarf named Oghren leave for the Deep Roads. It's safe if those who cannot get the Taint or who already know how to avoid it go.

Cian wonders why she stays. He does nothing but ignore her. Alistair likes the attention, a starved child for anything maternal, but Wynne seems focused on him more. It's odd.

“I'm sorry about Branka,” Cian tells Oghren a week later, and they finally sit outside. Oghren shrugs. His face is closed, and Cian never speaks of it again.

He made a choice down in the dark. Chose a man who did not want people forced to the anvil over a woman who didn’t.

He will always choose freedom.

“Will you be Las-pap for Merrill?” Marethari asks.

“No,” Cian says. The Keeper glares, and Cian leaves her. He tells Merrill what she said, and the other elf shakes her head.

“I don’t even know if I wish for children,” she confesses. And if I do…” She glances at Tamlen, who smiles back.

“Of course,” Cian laughs.

He thinks of leaving the clan behind with those who wish to choose freedom. He thinks of a life where Merrill is their Keeper and Tamlen her husband. He thinks of a husband for himself, perhaps children if he wishes.

He likes the idea.

Cian only sobs once about the control and choice wrestled out of his grasp. Only once does he sob, face in hands, as he realizes his freedom is gone, the Wardens taking it? He chose to follow and decided to be a Warden.

But he also didn’t.

He did not want to be one, did not want to be a hero.

He does not want this.

But it is his life now. He must now choose his path with chains on his wrists.

He kind of hates it.

Cian does not like the smug look in Wynne’s eyes when they find the Ashes of the human prophet or how she looks at Cian. He gives her a nasty look when she opens her mouth, and Leliana steps in between them. He hides out with Zevran while Leliana drags the older woman to the side.

“Let’s drop her off at the tower,” Cian grumbles.

“Agreed,” Zevran says as he lays in a seductive pose. His face is tight, though.

Rinna. The name echoes in Cian’s head, even as his heart aches at seeing the face of Tamlen once more.

He isn’t… sure what to think of Zevran. The sex is lovely—the kisses, too. The time spent together, just working side by side, is excellent. Yet Cian doesn’t know what to think of the man. At times, he can see the potential for more. At others, he checks for daggers or poison.

Fen and Alu are both wary of the man. They eye him closely. Da’Fen likes him. But Da’Fen likes everyone, even Wynne.

But… Cian sighs. He just doesn’t know.

Saving Arl, Eamon sends them straight off to the forest, where Cian groans upon seeing Zatherian, who seems as much of a grump and creep as ever. Hearing of Witherfang makes Cian suspicious.

“We all knew about the werewolves,” Cian tells Zevran as the other elf studies the gloves Cian found for him, like his mother’s.

“Oh?”

“I’m Dalish. We all knew, and we kept clear.” Cian frowns. “Why would he risk coming here?”

“We will have to see,” Zevran murmurs.

And see, they do.

Ultimately, Cian stands apart from the camp, staring into the night. He’s ended the oldest Dalish left. He finished a curse. He chose freedom.

It still feels empty.

Zevran comes up behind him to hug him, and Cian closes his eyes.

People will always try to control others, to enforce their will upon others. The humans filled Zatherian with so much vengeance that there was no room for anything else. And he hurt people over and over again until nothing was left but death.

“I will always choose freedom,” Cian says.

“I know,” Zevran kisses his neck.

Cian hates Denerim and the Landsmeet. Everyone seems to shove him into a box and try to enforce a will. Eamon demands things, and Alistair quietly follows. Wynne looks down her nose and dictates. Leliana fights her old mentor and is broken, but Cian reminds her she chooses to be kind. It is what makes her better.

Sten, who got his sword back, says everything is ridiculous. He shakes his head as they go after Anora to save her and again when they need to storm a prison to save Cian.

Cian has to agree, though he is distracted.

Zevran offers an earring, which Cian cannot accept. He looks at it and wants it but cannot take it. He knows it should mean more, that Zevran’s refusal to tell him anything is him trying to protect himself.

They argue and then face off against an old friend of Zevran’s.

It’s a mess even before the Landsmeet.

Cian values freedom. He values choice and decision. He talks to Anora and promises to try to save her father. He stands in a room full of humans to stare down a man who betrayed his son-in-law, his king.

He values choice.

He chooses to stay his blade.

Alistair yells; Alistair argues…

Alistair stands as king and is never a Warden.

Never again.

Loghain keeps to himself, and the others let him. Wynne gives the nastiest of looks to Cian, who ignores her with practice. Sten approves of keeping a resource. Oghren doesn’t care; too used to bloody politics. Shale doesn’t give a damn, either.

Leliana and Zevran understand. They understand his choices and his decisions. He chose to honour a promise.

It hurts not to have Alistair with them.

In the end, Cian is happy with his choice, though. After all, one must die to slay the Archdemon. He rolls his eyes when Morrigan reappears with a mysterious offer, telling her to leave before falling into bed with Zevran.

A whispered confession, a tale of love and loss. And a choice.

“I wished to die. I don’t anymore.” Zevran says.

“I’m glad,” Cian says, kissing his… lover deeply.

Fen and Alu like the man now. It shows Cian he’s made the right choice.

Cian goes down in legend. Even with other things happening, such as Lorry Hawke and Mila Trevelyan, Rook, and others, Cian is the Hero of Ferelden. He is Commander of the Grey for a time before he vanishes to Antiva with Zevran, Nathaniel Howe taking the title.

Cian chooses over and over again, living his freedom the best he can. Years later, he speaks with Merrill, the woman married to Carver Hawke. They raise griffins together. He is free, and so is she.

It is a good life.

(Once again, shout out to @dalishious for the Elvhen dictionary. I did come up with the others for surrogacy though.

Las- gift

Mam- mother

Pap-father

Gift father or gift mother, but not really? It's a direct translation, but they aren’t considered the parent of the child.)

#dragon age #dragon age origins #cian mahariel #yeah i don't like marethari #she always struck me as controlling #cian wanted to talk here #for freedom's design #the freedom to choose your own life #and how some people are restricted by others #or they try #alistair and cian become friends again later #years down the line

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