#anora x morrigan

[illusivesoul]

Heyoooo! I come bearing a prompt: "Sunset in her eyes" for Morrigan and anyone you like.

Hi, friend! Sorry it took me so long, but I finally finished it.

Went with Morrigan and Anora. Once again, I went overboard and the story goes pass the word limit for the ask, so the full thing is here!

The first part of the story under the cut.

.

Sunset in her Eyes

Anora had it all planned. The table and bookshelves had been dragged in front of the door as a makeshift barricade, the ache of arm muscles not used to physical effort as they once had been serving as testament to her exertions. The moment one of Howe's men, or if the Maker was feeling kind that day, the bastard Rendon himself walked in to finally get rid of her, she would hit him with the dagger directly in the throat or between the eyes. She'd then grab a weapon and fight her way out. Not a plan worthy of the daughter of Ferelden's greatest general, but it was the only she had. She had not, however, expected the door to start glowing. The spell Howe's mage had cast on the door to lock her in must be going awry. "Or the bastard finally decided to just burn me alive like a coward" Anora told herself as she ducked behind her improvised defenses. "A dagger and tin armour against a mage. How’s that for a challenge, Anora?" The enchanted door began creaking and twisting, the metal and wood groaning as the magic that held them in place was consumed by the fire being thrown from the other side, until they finally gave way with a loud thud that echoed across the room. "And there's that" a woman's voice pierced through the smoke. Sweat rolled down Anora's face as she pressed herself against the wall, her eyes still half closed due to the heat still emanating from the charred door and from the staff of the mage who had just entered the room, the wood filled with carvings and trinkets glowing crimson like the fire they had just helped to create. "You're alright?" Morrigan replied as she stretched her hand towards the queen from the other side of the overturned table. Her heartbeat still beating in her ears, Anora felt bedazzled while looking into Morrigan's eyes, the irises bright like a newly minted sovereign, their yellowish hue singing of mystery and power, the Fade and the Black City echoing distantly in them. "I am unharmed. Thank you" Anora answered as she took Morrigan's hand and stood "You're one of the warden's people, yes?" "I am no one's people, woman. But I am assisting the Warden. For the moment, at least" "You're chasind? You must not know who I am to speak to me so" The woman let out a hearty laugh that dripped with sarcasm "Let me guess. You're lady this and that, married to lord Fancy Shoes, and you've taken offense to being talked to in such a disrespectful way by a southern barbarian. Or you could be the queen we came to rescue. Not that there's much difference between the two, after all. Thought I must say, the queen of Ferelden in a common soldier’s armour is a most amusing sight" Anora felt the bitter sting building up in her stomach. She had always prided herself in being better than most nobles, but the truth in the mage's words had gone past the thick skin she had built from her years at court. "Yes, my offense is great, but I'd prefer to be outraged somewhere where my life isn't at risk. I assume Eamon sent you?" "Most perceptive indeed. The warden is down in the dungeon, taking righteous and glorious revenge against this Howe man" "If the Warden guts Howe, that would be appreciated by most fereldans" Anora replied, her eyes discreetly roaming across the woman's shape "But regardless, I'd be most gratefulif you could get me out of here" "Follow me. Don't get too far. I'd prefer not having to endure another of Cousland's rants as to how careless I was if you were to die under my watch" "I'll be sure to not lose you," Anora discreetly swallowed hard, mentally reprimanding herself over the fact that the sight of the mage's barely covered breasts had replaced all the anger she had felt for Howe by far more improper thoughts.

Morrigan walked out of the room, her latest verbal sparring match with Elissa Cousland leading nowhere as it always did. Yet, it had become a good way to let out her frustrations. She walked across the empty hallways, where no one roamed this late into the night. Well, no one but Elissa on her way to make the bard sing those late night tunes she was so bad at hiding. "At least this time they're on another floor" Morrigan thought before seeing the light coming from the only open door on the corridor. Reaching the entrance, she saw the queen sitting in front of the fireplace, her gaze fixated on the large portrait of the recently deceased king which towered over the room. “Did you love him?” Anora slightly turned her head, just enough to see Morrigan standing by the door. The whisper of a smile formed on the queen’s lips. It was refreshing having someone not constantly treat her with royal deference, though she would not admit it “Love? In a way. We both had many things we loved, and we had been together all our lives. We weren’t unhappy, but… well, I guess we had as good a marriage as we could” “Curious” “Curious why?” “How you grieve for someone you didn't truly love. And if this Cailan was anything like his brother, I find it even harder to see anyone mourning his loss" The queen remained silent for a moment, her gaze returning to the large portrait of Cailan that dominated the room. “Yes… most curious how losing someone you've known so closely for decades may be difficult. Perhaps the sense of familiarity and loss in different in the Wilds” “You could always remarry if the prospect of loneliness troubles you so. Is that not what is expected from you royal women? To be always married and make heirs and their spares?” “If you had a large white beard, I could have sworn I was talking to Eamon” Anora answered as she stood and walked towards the chair by the window that overlooked the courtyard of Eamon's state “Regardless, if Eamon has his way, the throne will go to your friend, Alistair” The chuckle Morrigan let out echoed across the room “Alistair is not my friend” “That much was clear. But at least I made you smile. I imagine that’s quite the achievement in itself. Now, if you were looking for someone to have another shouting match with, since apparently your fight with Elissa didn't leave you sated, I suggest you go to Eamon and tell him that the Theirin bloodline is not a sacred gift from the Maker himself. He will give you all the fighting you could possibly want” "You heard my little disagreement with the warden" Anora chuckled, "I'm sure my father in the royal palace heard it. I learned years ago not to bother arguing with Elissa. She can be somewhat… abrasive" "And here I thought it was gulping down darkspawn blood which had soured her spirits. Interesting to know that she has always been such a delight" The sarcasm was evident in the witch's voice, yet Anora answered nonetheless "Her arguments with my husband were legendary. There ever really was only one thing that made that woman happy. Well, made a lot of women happy, to put it in a way" Morrigan remained silent for a moment, her eyes slightly widening as the realization dawned on her once she saw the coy expression on the queen's face "She bedded you too. My, my. Now it's clear how you endured those years at Cailan's side". "It was always a pleasant time when the Couslands came to Denerim. The downside was having to endure Elissa's manners when outside the bedroom. But enough about that" Anora stood and reapproached the fireplace "In case my head remains on my shoulders after the Landsmeet, how would you like to be the arcane advisor to the court?"

[anneapocalypse]

Anne's Dragon Age Femslash!

Happy Femslash February! Have a list of all the F/F fics I've written for Dragon Age so far. Listed from shortest to longest. Ratings are noted here; please check AO3 tags for full list of warnings/content notes.

Herald's Rest. Female Trevelyan/Sera, 370 words, rated M. The Inquisitor finds a respite.

In Darkness Enveloped. Cassandra/Leliana, 1800 words, rated E. The Conclave is destroyed. The Divine is dead. The Left Hand and Right Hand are at odds, and at loose ends. It's the worst of times. It's certainly the worst possible time for this.

What We Can Do Together. Shianni/Briala, 2000 words, rated T. Briala has never called her away from Denerim before, so Shianni can only assume this is important.

Gifts of the Hunt. Female Mahariel/Morrigan, 13000 words, rated M. Lyna Mahariel follows Morrigan through the eluvian, leaving behind her life with the Wardens and with her Dalish clan. With only each other, Morrigan's child, and the magic of a long-forgotten past, what kind of future will the two of them have together?

No Woman Rules Alone. Anora Mac Tir/Female Tabris, 34000 words, rated E. Warden Tabris convinced Anora and Alistair to marry for the good of Ferelden, to unite the lands against the darkspawn. They have settled into a functional partnership and even friendship, but there is no love between them and they both know it. Over time, Anora finds that it is the Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine who has won not only her respect, but her heart.

[camelliagwerm]

MORRIGAN ABOUT THE WARDEN'S ENGAGEMENT TO ANORA

[curiousthimble]

Chapter update! The story stalled me for a minute, but I swear I haven’t forgotten my heroine or her lovable companions. 

Chapter 182: The Arl's Estate

Sneaking into the Arl of Denerim's esate is much easier than breaking Queen Anora out of it, but Hera finds a friend and ally along the way.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17082974/chapters/119038660

[queenaeducan]

Introduce your Hero of Ferelden

Codex Entry: Tamar Aeducan

From the writings of Shaper Gertek, scholar of Paragons.

I was blessed by the ancestors to know Paragon Tamar before she was elevated to the heights of her ancestor, Aeducan. Hers is a tale for the ages, the one Paragon whose name is as well-regarded on the Surface as it is among her people.

I knew her as an even-keeled woman, the moderate voice between her brothers. It is easy to see her influence in the reign of King Bhelen, whose wisdom often mirrors his beloved sister's. What madness took her in the Deep Roads that led to Prince Trian's death, we will never know, but the Ancestors have seen fit to forgive her, and so, too, shall I.

Regrettably, her exploits overground rely entirely upon the word of Topsiders, but I have heard it on good authority that Paragon Tamar is a queenmaker as well as kingmaker. Ferelden's queen owes much to our beloved Paragon, and has used her influence to help Orzammar win back thaigs long thought lost to our kingdom.

So long as our princess, our Paragon draws breath, no dwarf in Orzammar need ever beseech the ancestor for favor- they may rest easy knowing it is already assured.

Tamar Aeducan is @theshirallen's OC but is my world state's OC. She crowned Anora and Bhelen, destroyed the Anvil, brokered peace between the werewolves and elves, and saved Connor with the Circle's help. In-game she sacrifices herself at the Battle of Denerim, but in fic she lives on when Loghain and Morrigan undergo the Dark Ritual. She marries Gorim Saelac after the events of Origins, and never returns to Orzammar. Further reading: - Shooting Stars (Gorim x Tam) - Forbidden Kiss (Gorim x Tam) Prompts: Here

[greypetrel]

From the Oh Hellos prompt list: "Death, she is cunning and clever as hell." - Eat You Alive for whomever it fits best!

Aaaaah thank you because you picked one of my favourite songs by them! :D I ended up with Alyra, in a little tryptic because I am an indecisive bitch and I couldn’t decide which stanza to take as a quote.

Tis the prompt list

A testament, a prophecy.

  "Death, she is cunning and clever as hell." - Eat You Alive

[ Female Mahariel x Morrigan - Female Mahariel x Alistair (open couple, everything is consensual) | 3754 words | CW: VIolence, death, blood, dead bodies -non described graphically, said open couple, King Alistair + Queen Anora (mentioned that it's a façade but still ]

He said to me: “Child, I’m afraid for your soul, These things that you’re after, they can’t be controlled, This beast that you’re after will eat you alive, And spit out your bones.

Denerim, 9:31 Dragon

It held something poetic, she could say.

Chaos ended, once the Landsmeet had stopped talking about the Blight and progressed to the next coronation, Mahariel had slipped out of the great hall. All she came to do, she did.

Secure Ferelden against the Blight, trick Eamon in giving the throne to Alistair, sure, but not on his own, get Loghain out of the way.

And now here she was, standing in a side corridor in front of the corpse of the general, his blood at that point dried on her armour, facing one pale hand that slipped out of the sheet they covered him with.

A testament to her results, and a prophecy of the future.

It mattered little if the servants were evidently ill at ease with her staring. She didn’t care for them, wouldn’t have bothered with their work, and couldn’t understand why they were intimidated like so by an elf standing by. None of them would have paid her the same level of care if she was the dead one, she was sure. Elves were not even good to take care of the dead body of General Mac Tir, after all, humans had been sent instead. Why should they mind her now, then?

“Why lingering?”

An extra voice called, from behind her. After the last half a hour, Morrigan’s presence was a balm to her ears, and she hated herself for it, right now.

“He shouldn’t have been the one to die, today.”

The servants turned to her with surprise in their eyes, but she glared them back to work. Incompetents.

“You-”

“I’m not talking of myself.” She hissed. “Not now, not anymore.”

She could admit it, even if just to Morrigan, in barely more than a whisper. After she picked her up when Tamlen showed up again, it was a pointless secret she guessed. She confirmed it, when she heard the Witch exhale, slowly than her usual. It irritated her, and she spoke again, louder, before the other could answer.

“I’m just staring at the failing of command, which I can relate since I distinctly remember I asked you not to come, today.”

“Do not take it on me.”

Alyra scoffed at the answer and marched away, a brisk in her step, as if she didn’t care. It pained her that her heart did a double leap when she heard the noise of steps behind her. She hated the burning in her eyes, when Morrigan sped up to keep at her side, and was quick in turning her head away. Lest the witch saw her and understand.

“He really is an idiot.”  The witch snorted.

“He made perfectly sense.”

“He hurt you.”

“I hurt him first, we’re even. He didn’t want the crown.”

“He told everyone he did.”

“That was duty. And that waste of breath of his uncle whispering in his ear.”

“So, was it still his uncle the one who rejected your hand in marriage?”

“Leave it, Morrigan.”

“Not until you answer me.”

Morrigan grabbed her arm and stopped her. Better said: Alyra let her stop her, resisting both urges to wiggle herself free and just run away from a confrontation she wasn’t in the mood of having, and the one to just fold on the woman and start crying. In the middle, barely collected enough not to break, she recoiled in that bit of contact, let herself be stopped and moved, enjoyed how the hand didn’t leave her arm. Didn’t flinch if it was dirty and bloody, the leather torn over a deep gush. The physical pain was better, at least.

“Did you mean it?” Morrigan asked. “Did you want to become queen yourself, enter this circus, and possibly end up like Loghain? Did you, or was it just guilt?”

“I don’t feel guilty.”

“Alyra.”

She finally looked at Morrigan. A frown on her face, eyes burning, lips drawn in a thin line, breathing heavily herself. Her eyes fell on Loghain, once again. They were further down the corridor, but it was still visible, and it was her lips now to drawn in a thin line. A bloody shroud over what remained of a person who saved the country, years ago. Now alone and forgotten, killed after the wrong bet, as his country went on without him, as if he was nothing. As if they weren’t all there, free and independent, thanks of him.

A testament to her results, and a prophecy for the future.

“I thought there could have been a future, after the Blight.” She admitted. “I thought I was good at politics. I liked it.” The burning in her eyes was stronger, but she fought it. “But they will only ever see the shape of my ears before everything else. Alistair will only ever see the shape of my ears before the rest.”

One and two tears rolled over her cheeks. She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyelids, trying to make the tears stop. They didn’t.

Morrigan bent forward, her hands relenting on her arm and the other coming to cup her cheek. She kissed tears away from one cheek, and rubbed those on the other with her thumb, with a delicacy that only brought more tears to fall.

“He is an idiot.”

Alyra hung to her like she was drowning, and for the second time in a year, ever since she entered those cursed ruins and her life changed, allowed herself to break down.

---

She’ll string you along and she’ll sell you a lie There’s nothing but pain on the edge of a knife There is no courage in flirting with fear To prove you’re alive.

Dragonbone Wastes, 9:32 Dragon

Rising one eyebrow was enough to silence the doubts that Ariane was about to voice.

She saw the huntress instantly closing her mouth and looking down, cheeks taking some colours.

Sir Ironjaw Bonecrusher barked and ran to her, wiggling his butt at her, and Alyra looked down, gifting the mabari a smile as she scratched his cheek where he liked.

“You-”

Taking her eyes away from them was apparently the wrong choice. It figured, she supposed: a couple of weeks of travelling together wasn’t enough for her instructions to stick. And Finn was too open mouthed from the start.

“You chose a terrible spot to set camp up.” Alyra interrupted the mage, looking back up with annoyance. “You’re both lucky it was just me who found you. Ariane, I expected better.”

She marched back in the small encampment with a purpose the mantle of the Warden-Commander falling back on her shoulders and in her gait. It felt more hers than it has since then, which was a small consolation as she examined the camp and was stung by the comparison with what she had just left.

A single tent, decently set up, close to a fire circled with stones and a pot to cook beside it, lid bubbling as whatever it was boiled.

“The fire and the smoke will attract unwanted attention.”

“I- Uhm, I made sure there was no one around.” Ariane tried to justify herself, instinctively handing her a cloth she used to touch the pot.

“Next time, set camp high up on hills.”

“But then the fire will be visible from a distance.”

“The smoke is visible anyway, and you’ll be at a vantage point. Not trapped at the bottom of a hollow ready to be ambushed.”

She sat on her knees and rose the lid from the pot, examining the content. A simple soup made with provisions, the smell of herbs familiar and cozy, reminding her of her clan. Small portions for three people, but it would have done.

She ate plenty in the Crossroads, when she had to leave the baby to Morrigan for his own feeding.

Ariane and Finn were a little puzzled, but they fell back on track soon enough, as Mahariel simply started to give orders. Wards were placed, another tent rose. Dinner was served, it was little but it was good, earthy, tasting like another life Alyra didn’t miss.

The night was spent, and the next day they started on the road back early, Alyra at the start of the line and leading the way as if it was the most normal thing to do. The day was cloudy but it wasn’t rainy, so the quick pace she set was just out of not wanting to spend more time than necessary out there in the Wastes.

After a couple of hours and a bigger number of complaints on Mahariel’s part, it was Finn who finally snapped.

“We weren’t expecting the need to put up with your impossible standards ever again, you know?”

The atmosphere froze. Ariane hissed something and pulled on his robe to have him stop and apologize. But Finn, although getting embarrassed and blushing after a minute that Alyra spent staring at him without blinking, went on.

“I- I mean, you disappeared in that mirror. We waited for you, but after a day, we supposed that you-”

“-you supposed I left my duty, my command, my order, and disappeared into a mirror without even a note.”

“Well, I never-”

“It wasn’t a question.” She noted, and the mage finally looked down.

She appreciated him for standing up to her and putting up resistance, really. It didn’t change that she turned back and started walking again, expecting to be followed. She fixed her backpack on her shoulders when she heard the noise of steps -she shouldn’t be hearing that-, dog trotting obediently at her side, when Ariane finally spoke.

“You… You knew Morrigan.”

“Your deduction ability is incredible, you should be a detective.”

Somehow, neither Ariane nor Finn caught the irony, and she heard them mumbling between them with a note of embarrassment. Sir Ironjaw Bonecrusher snorted, and Alyra turned to caress him in a silent thank you for actually understanding her humour. No one ever did, she didn’t know why.

“I only meant… You seemed… Uh, close. And-”

“We weren’t expecting you would have returned, that’s all.”

“Finn!”

“What? It’s true.” The mage spread his arms to the side. “She talked to the Witch like her life hang from her lips and entered the mirror. Not a word, not an afterthought, she bossed us around for weeks on everything, included how to go and relieve ourself in the correct way in the wild, and then the Witch appeared and she didn’t even look back at us. She left us alone for a week, what were we suppose to think? She wasn’t planning on returning, or she would have told us where to wait for her, and for how long.”

Alyra felt their eyes on the back of her neck. The same way she felt Nathaniel’s stare when she left Amaranthine and lied to him, saying she would have been back. And the mage, right now, stroke a point she couldn’t really deny.

Truth was, she hadn’t meant to get back. She smelled the freedom, stepped through that mirror, and had the best five days of her life, with the woman she loved and their son. She had, indeed, changed her mind looking at the pair. And it has been more difficult than deciding to leave Vigil’s Keep after all the bother she took to keep it standing.

But that was for her. It had been for Morrigan, it may be with Alistair, if they somehow managed to patch their relationship. It wasn’t for the pair at her shoulder to be aware of. They were pleasant company and both of them had potential. It didn’t mean that they were in her confidence. Not yet, at least, but she had plans. So, she just huffed through her nose, encompassing everything like that.

“I’m here, now.” She simply stated, and for once in the last two years of crazy cults and un-deads and monsters, she was sure of it. “And I would suggest you both to get back to Vigil’s Keep with me. You’re not such wastes of breath.”

As much of a compliment she dared to give them. As much of a profession of thanks she could. Take Finn out of the Circle if he wanted a way out, give Ariane the chance at something bigger, something else. A choice, like that she never had.

Herself, she knew what she was facing, coming back, because for once, coming back had been her choice. Her own, no one else’s. She knew the politics, and tricks and itches and thorns of it.

The picture of Loghain’s void eyes, his pale hand slipping out of his shroud, came back to mind.

A testament to her results and a prophecy of her future.

But she had plans.

And well, apparently, she also had a family in a magic world beyond a mirror.

And oh, she fully intended to work to make her Keep safe for them.

---

I’ve seen the true face of the things you called “life” The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell, She’ll eat you alive.

Vigil’s Keep, 9:38 Dragon

“I’m sure the answer will be yes, but I feel obligated to ask anyway.”

Alistair flipped the last of the documents he was presented with on the neat pile they came up with. Lists and lists of numbers, calculations and outcomes and planning. Years full of work, no doubt, judging from how yellowish the pages were.  Everything neatly piled and summed, written in her sharp, clear calligraphy, as if it was but another to do list for the next Court assembly.

Easy to read made it easy to accept, made it almost like it was the only logical solution.

The same way she conducted a speech until you didn’t understand how you could possibly disagree with her in every single Court meeting and Landsmeet they faced in the last years.

He passed the pile to Anora, to his left, and looked up to the rest of the table in the Warden Commander’s personal quarters. A round table full of papers, a map signed with pawns and pins, notes in red ink here and there over number of troops and the exact locations of the Grey Wardens and their numbers. Wards shining green at the door and all around the room, keeping it safe and private.

Nathaniel was frowning down at the map, a hand brought up to his mouth, deep in thought. Velanna looked as per her usual, as if the whole situation bored her greatly, if one didn’t know her enough to notice the glint of mischief in her eyes. Sigrun, who had a big smile twisting her tattoos, and just looked at the elf at centre stage with trust in her eyes and the thrill of a new challenge. Not so weirdly enough anymore -for albeit they had a rocky start and spent the first months at Court trying to outsmart the other, they now were fast friend and an unstoppable force when they agreed-, Anora was smiling too, and the smile grew at each new paper she read.

And then there was her. Alyra, totally basking in that way she had when she knew she had the upperhand and could allow herself to be more open about her feeling, was smiling. She stood there, at the centre of the table just opposite of him, and had that glint in her brown eyes that meant she was just about to score a victory, usually. Arms crossed on her blue gabardine, red hair neatly tied in braids. She let it grow long, these years, and somehow it suited her even if it was not practical as she preferred.

And she was looking at him, waiting for his answer with expectation.

“It’s weird.” He managed only to utter, the decision in front of him too big not to hesitate a little.

“What?” Alyra frowned. “He’s scum.”

“Oh no I agree, he definitely is. It’s really peculiar the stupidity he shows in not listening to your every wish and insisting on you respecting rank. The audacity!”

Sigrun laughed, Nathaniel snickered in agreement and both got a fulminating glare for it. Velanna was as per her usual more clever, and waited until Mahariel was turned to the other two Wardens to allow herself to smile. Anora smiled because she didn’t fear the Warden-Commander.

“So?” Alyra returned to Alistair, rising one eyebrow. The annoyance was fake, he knew her well enough to read it in the minute contractions of her lips that hid a smile. It made everything the more surprising, the realization the sweeter.

“It’s just weird that for once you’re actually waiting for my opinion on the matter and not just informing me of your decision when it’s done.” He noted aloud, smiling at her when she wouldn’t. “I’m glad of it.”

He knew her well to expect her reaction. The rolling of her eyes to the ceiling, the mouth that opened to let a huff out, and the dismissive wave of her hand. She changed, but she still was terrible at accepting a compliment.

“Our gracious queen is here, and her opinion I respect. You’ve learnt a thing or two in these last years, too.” She simply stated, and interrupted Nathaniel before he could add a comment. “You lots should learn from him.”

“She got you.” Sigrun teased Nathaniel.

“I run the place when she’s away!” Nathaniel protested. “She never complains for more than ten minutes when she returns.”

“As if you acted alone and didn’t ask our opinion constantly.” Velanna teased him, with a smile.

“It’s democratic, you should appreciate it.”

“Hey, I’m not doing such a terrible job at this monarchy thing, ouch!”

“As long as you’re not democratic when we’re around, Howe.” Anora concluded, placing the documents down on the table with grace.

The room fell silent again, there in the middle of the night, outside of everyone’s ears. Vigil’s Keep was strictly controlled, and the Arlessa was notorious to allow people in her service only after she herself interviewed them. Vigil’s Keep was a safe place, most people there were bound by loyalty directly to the Arlessa. She notoriously preferred elves from the Alienage, the ones that struggled finding work, people she found on the streets, and all the former Blighted Orphans she had managed to track down and scare shitless, when they thought she was there for retaliation and not to offer them a job.

“So? What do you think of it?” She prodded them, that sly glint returning to her eyes. “Do the Wardens have the support of the Crown?”

“I think that you’re totally crazy, and that we’re all gonna pay for this with our pretty, pretty heads. Mine’s the prettiest.” He sighed, looking back down at the pile of documents. The numbers, the lists. The two missives that she hadn’t just thrown in the fireplace without even opening the envelope.

“Anora?” Alyra asked.

“For once I agree with my dear husband. It’s a crazy plan, but we can make do with it. Promise the Wardens to help the Crown in the future, and the Crown will protect you in turn. We’ll need a treaty signed.”

“It can be arranged.”

“A treaty that I will write.” The queen specified, with a sly smile on her face.

Alyra smiled back, the same slyness on her face, and nodded at her, conceding the victory with a huff just for show.

“So, what does the King say? Is it too crazy for you?”

“Oh no, on the contrary. If as a Warden I have to keep be under some other person, I’d much, much rather it was you.” A pause. “Double-sense included, by the way.”

Alyra rolled her eyes again, Anora sighed, and Velanna snickered.

“Do it, for all that concern me, 5 different contingency plans are more than enough should the worst happen.” He shrugged. “I’ll sleep better knowing he won’t claim my crown any time soon, and that he won’t be able to come here and study how you’re still alive.”

“But?”

“I told you my opinion, there’s-”

“Alistair.” She leant her head that way and looked at him not impressed. She knew him as well as he did her, after all. In that moment, Alistair was happy that whatever happened between them, they had managed to get closer again. It was nice, to be known like that. It was nice, there, to be in the open on how much his marriage was a consensual façade.

“… Buuut-” He conceded. “… Are you sure of it? Declare the independence of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden from Weisshaupt... That’s a change If the Landsmeet can’t accept it, or if the First-Warden decides to march south… Mind me, I would love to tell him to fuck himself too, right now, I would sleep better knowing he’s not out there after us. But if things go badly… Five of six people in this room will be dead.”

The risks were all calculated, the risks were all taken into accound in the documents he revised, but Alistair remembered the exact moment Loghain’s life left him. The way he had stopped moving and fallen to the ground in the Great Hall, a loud metal clang on stone filling the space as everyone caught their breath. Alyra’s shoulder rising and falling with heavy breath after the fight, blood dripping from her dagger.

In that moment, the face of the general was Alyra’s, staring with void eyes and a slit throat at the ceiling, blood trickling out of her mouth, redder than her hair. It wasn’t an inviting option, as many disagreement they may still have, even with ten years of experience more.

If Mahariel was thinking of the same thing -and Alistair knew her well enough to know that she was, that she constantly had Loghain as an example on one hand, a cautionary tale on the other-, it didn’t show.

Mahariel threw her head back and laughed, loud and hard.

“That’s not a major set-back for us, love.”

She told him when she was done, the smile finally breaking up and curling her lips up, the blue of her Vallaslin raising on her cheeks.

“We’re Grey Wardens, one side or the other, and we’re all already dead.”

[seigeocs]

Ships and Characters

Skyrim

My OCs + their ships. Farkas Vilkas Brynjolf

Fallout 3 Butch Cross Jericho Charon

Fallout New Vegas (if it’s not obvious, I really like the ladies in NV) Boone Lily Bowen Raul Cass Veronica

Fallout 4 All of the romance options Deacon Maxon The Raider bosses in Nuka World except the Black siblings

Fallout (TV Series) Ghoulcy Maximus x Lucy

Destiny 1 Any of my OCs Siobhan x Emyr Siobhan x Shaxx Siobhan x Uldren

Destiny 2 Any of my OCs Siobhan x Crow Siobhan x Shaxx

Dragon Age: Origins Any of my OCs established ships F!Cousland x Anora, F!Warden x Leliana, F!Warden x Morrigan, M!Warden x Morrigan, M!Warden x Zevran, F!Warden x Zevran

Dragon Age: Awakening F!Cousland x Nathaniel Howe, F!Cousland/Anders, F!Warden x Varel

Dragon Age 2 I’ll write for any of the characters and ships in DA2.  My favorites are: F!Hawke x Fenris, F!Hawke x Isabela x Fenris, F!Hawke x Varric, M!Hawke x Fenris, M!Hawke x Fenris x Isabela

Dragon Age: Inquisition I like almost all of the ships.  I struggle to write Solas so he’s just not available unfortunately.  Not that I don’t like his character, I just suck at writing him. My OCs and their ships, Dorian x Bull are some of my favorite.  I also love writing interactions that don’t involve smut for the companions as well.

Dragon Age Veilguard (when it comes out as I’m trying to keep away from most of the game information)

Mass Effect F!Shep x Kaidan, F!Shep x Ashley, F!Shep x Garrus, F!Shep x Tali (DON’T CARE IF THEY WEREN’T OFFICIAL, THEY EXIST TO ME).

Mass Effect 2 F!Shep x Garrus, F!Shep x Thane, F!Shep x Zaeed, F!Shep x Garrus x Thane, F!Shep x Tali, F!Shep x Miranda, M!Shep x Jack

Mass Effect 3 Same ship as 1 and 2.  I also write F!Shep x James Vega but in the non creepy Citadel DLC way.  That doesn’t exist in my canon.

Stardew Valley I’ll write smut about many of the characters in the game.  My one farmer is shipped with Harvey and my other is shipped with Leah.  If you give me characters I’ll make it work.  My only line in the sand is I will not write any cheating.

BG3 *waves hand to OCs* I’ll write whatever for them and their ships.  If you request BG3 just give me some options and I’ll figure it out.

Helluva Boss* Established canon ships!  I am loving the angst with Blitz and Stolas right now.

Hazbin Hotel* Established canon couples, Angel Dust x Husker (mostly fluff for these two because Angel Dust needs it).  I won’t write Alastor in any romantic ships.

My Hero Academia*

I mostly write Reader insert fics for MHA.  I also write ships between characters too.  Platonic fluff, found family, sarcasm, and anything that is G to T rating is for every character.  My main ships: Midnight x Eraserhead x Mic Midnight x Eraserhead Mic x Eraserhead Fatgum x Mirko Fatgum x Hawks Fatgum x Eraserhead All Might x Eraserhead Mirko x Shigaraki (Don’t question it, I love the toxicity of it) Compress x Twice Twice x Hawks Hawks x Dabi

Demon Slayer*

My OC x Rengoku My Demon OC x Muzan Reader Inserts for all the over 18 characters I also write platonic found family for all the characters

Kaiju No. 8*

Hoshina is my absolute favorite character in this show. Kafka Hibino is a close second Narumi (omg the anime did him a disservice so badly) Eiji Hasegawa Haruichi Izumo Iharu Furuhashi Reno Ichikawa

Any any platonic, fluff, cute stuff with any of the characters

Haikyuu

As everyone in the main cast is over 18 by the end of the manga, I’ll write all the characters.  It’s mostly Reader Inserts but I’m open to OCs and character x character ships.

One Punch Man

Saitama Genos Atomic Samurai Blast Zombieman

[vigilskeep]

Voted Cousland x Morigan because of that one post you made ages ago about Cousland marrying Anora and getting everything, then leaving it all behind following Morigan through the Eluvian

omg i cant believe people remember that, i think that was the first one i did of that original run of dao ship asks... anyway so correct cousland/morrigan is soooooo good

[v-arbellanaris]

Re: rarepair Hell. I would like to know how many pits we mutually occupy, so. Could I get a list of like, idk, your top ten (based in enjoyment level) rarepairs? And/or headcanons but I would prefer "and".

okay i'll assume you mean dragon age specifically MFDSKJFSDKJF but okay, i'll list some!!!!

the obvious ones:

fenders (fenris x anders) : i love a good narrative foil

zevistair (zevran x alistair) : idk if this counts as a rarepair but!!! their canon flirting banters always make me go sooo insane. that you can include zevran in the foursome w alistair if alistair is hardened (lol) makes me INSANE. they are basically canon aND YET!!!!!!

warden x loghain : ive written so much abt them already. you get the idea

nanders (nathaniel x anders)

the less obvious ones:

anders/merrill (bonus: anders/merrill/isabela): for all the same reasons i ship fenders (which i would argue is still relatively a popular pair, so not quite rarepair??); they're such good mirrors, they're both encapsulate what the other fears. anders being 100% okay to hurt people despite being a healer vs merrill being a blood mage who has never wanted to hurt anyone is just *chef kiss*. you can take a look at this for more compelling reasons to ship them.

fenris/merrill: for all the same reasons as above. i think if u dont ship each individual LI of the kirkwall polycule w each other, u shouldnt say u ship the kirkwall polycule.

solavelyan / soladaar / soladash / solas x non-lavellan inqs: i still think it should've been a romance option for all inqs tho i suppose they didn't really have the time to develop a non-lavellan route for them, but i love thinking about it, and i love the vibes for it so much. again, i love narrative foils, and i think it's so natural to be drawn to someone who could understand you like that.

alistair x bethany: a not-templar and a not-circle mage, in the wardens together. i think they'd really like each other and have a very interesting kind of energy!!! they've both got these secret bitter/spiteful sides to them, there's a lot of parallels (like alistair thinking warden conscription is a good thing bc it was for him and bethany having v different emotions abt being a warden in general). i've also really enjoyed most of the fics i've read for them.

nathaniel x f!cousland: UNFORTUNATELY THOUGH i dont think i've been able to find the kind of fic i want for them in the tag. i've got too many wips as it is, but maybe one day i'll write the nathaniel/f!cousland fic of my dreams...

nathaniel x anora: this one is admittedly @rosella-writes' fault, but they've got me by the THROAT as a concept

m!hawke/cullen: LIKE ESPECIALLY IF IT'S ONE-SIDED FOR CULLEN it's something that can be SO fascinating to explore (esp in an amell worldstate). [shaking cullen] babygirl what is WRONG with you!!!!!!!

m!hawke/sebastian: sebastian grappling with his admiration for hawke vs his chantry vows but THIS TIME make it mlm..... i think this is probably baby vee coming through w how hard i used to ship d/estiel in the early 00's LMAO. fsr they hit the same beats in my skull.

morrigan/leliana: noooo girlies don't fight haha <3 they should dump the warden and kiss instead <3

josephine/the iron bull: i read a few fics for them that admittedly captured my interest. i think their dynamic is something that could really be interesting to delve into for so many reasons. i've read the evidence and i find it compelling enough to put on this list

[illusivesoul]

Thank you for the tag! My brain was so excited to think of rarepairs that I almost went completely crazy on this one and throw all the weird stuff I ever thought about at you. But I try to stay civil:

Anora x Morrigan Loghain x Wynne (sorry)

And something I've been thinking about recently: Petrovsky x Alenko

(okay sorry that wasn't so civil after all lol)

Please feel free to throw all the weird things at me 😂 Rarepairs are my jam!

Anora and Morri would be so good for each other. I love the thought of Morri staying in Ferelden as magical advisor to Anora instead of going to Orlais, and the two of them raising Kieran together (and Kieran eventually being named Anora's succesor to the throne 👀)

Loghain and Wynne. I think they have potential for some hate sex, but I find it hard to see much between them that doesnt lead to them fighting to the death 😆

Petrovsky x Alenko is one that I've never thought about before, but sounds intriguing! Maybe Kaidan is put in charge of handling Petrovsky once hes a prisioner of the Alliance, and things develop from there 👀 I'd love to see a conversation between those 2

[ziskandra]

I received two extremely delightful gifts in the The Black Emporium exchange for Dragon Age rarepairs, and they have just tossed me right back into the depths of my Mac Tir feelings!

So Tangled Up Its Hard to Know (Loghain/Female Cousland) Set during the Inquisition era! I just love the intimacy of two old comrades reconnecting and it leading into something more 💖

open your heart like the gates of hell (Anora/Morrigan) Morrigan and Kieran end up living at the royal palace after Morrigan becomes Anora’s arcane advisor, and there is PINING and COMPLICATIONS in regards to Kieran’s parentage 👁

Looking forward to reading more of the collection and collating more recs over this coming weekend!

[camelliagwerm]

Magni/Anora has been making me go lowkey insane for the past 24hrs ngl lads.

[thiefbird]

Married Anora / Alistair with Anora absolutely sick of hearing about Dirthail constantly: Oh, if I could go back in time When you only held me in my mind Just a longing, gone without a trace from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nOWGp1zhcVE

@dadrunkwriting

"And then Dirth, of course-"

"Oh, dear Maker, husband, "Anora sighed. "If you mention him again I'll believe you are in love with him."

Alistair gaped at her. Him, in love with Dirthail? Ridiculous. "I beg your pardon?"

"You speak of him constantly, you make eyes at him when he appears in court. What else am I to think?" Her eyes sparkled with merriment as she teased him. "Do not think I am complaining, dear husband. Only simply commenting on a trend."

"I- he-" Alistair spluttered incoherently for a moment. "He has Morrigan again!"

"Hmm... that would not affect your love for him. Besides, I have you. And yet that does not stop me." She looked thoughtful. "He keeps company with that blond apostate often, as well. Dalish are not so prudish as we, in matters of the heart, Alistair.

He was not- could not be- in love with Dirth. They had not even spoken outside court in years, not since his fellow Warden had taken so very well to politics and contrived for Alistair's nemesis to also be his father-in-law. Yes, that had worked out better than expected, and it was not like Loghain was around. And of course his grudge against the elf had faded almost immediately, and had been replaced by pondering how his former friend was handling being Arl, or raising a child, or...

Oh dear Maker. He was in love with Dirth.

"I..."

"Do not look so frightened, husband." Anora rose from her seat and embraced him. "You may not speak with him, but he writes to me frequently. Go to him."

Alistair sagged into her arms. "Tomorrow. I must go tomorrow..."

"Then I will write to him tonight, to expect you."

[alexafrantasy]

Alistair is not the most lucky guy in my lore, ngl :)))

[greypetrel]

Welcome home kisses from the touches prompt list!

Hi Mo! ✨

Thank you for asking! This sent me in a flurry, I won’t lie. Meaning: I had three different ideas, half wrote two, and eventually decided with the angstiest one. Also because Alyra is one I write less so she needs more affection.

And nothing, some shenanigans post Fort Drakon, playing Denerim as a Mahariel is just… Nasty. If you’re romancing Alistair it’s the first place where you see the cracks. I hope you’ll enjoy! 😊

Tis the prompt list

The Only Possible Choice.

[ Dragon Age: Origins, post “Captured!”, Warden and Alistair runs on their own | Female Mahariel x Morrigan – hints of Female Mahariel x Alistair -go poly or go home | 3333 words ]

Kisses – 11. welcome home kisses

Did you ever feel your heart stopping? Did you ever feel like a moth drawn to a flame? It's time to put on your lifejacket 'Cause I'm about to step up the game, oh - Kamikaze, Susanne Sundfør

She was absolutely furious. Seething with rage and a thousand “I told you so”.

Because oh, she had told them it would have ended up like that. They just had to spent a night in Fort Drakon, lose most of their armours and weapons and tools and escape through the skin of their teeth. Better than she would have thought, which was a quick execution and their bodies thrown to the pigs to get rid of the evidence. She would have done it, but Loghain was apparently slower than she would have been. A meagre consolation.

Anora was a royal bitch, and she tricked them. Almost jeopardized not only that mission, but the fucking war. And Alistair had the guts of saying she should calm down, that they had to rescue her.

Had to.

For all Alyra cared, she could have rotten in a cell and freed them of another arrow in her father’s quiver.

For all her silver tongue, she didn’t know how to explain to the Landsmeet having escaped from Fort Drakon without looking like a savage who cared not for their laws and rules and could easily decide to jump over them.

And all around her people told her to stay calm and get to better counsels and speak with the Queen.

Creators, she would speak with the bitch to curse her thrice before killing her. Her father could watch.

What angered her the most was that Alistair took the side of the asshole he called uncle, in treating her like she was but an unruly child who understood badly the rules this world followed.

It didn’t cost him so much thought to leave command fully to the unruly child that didn’t know the rules. And he had the audacity to ask her not to be angry at him.

He had paid her very little attention in the last weeks since they arrived in Denerim, looked only at his uncle, shadowed him like a lost duckling who finally found his. He left her explore the city, investigate, move to gain them support all on her own, facing the Alienage and the merry band of slavers hidden between with just Zevran, Leliana and Morrigan at her side. Saving Anora had been the first task he didn’t invent excuses not to participate, and that was the one task Alyra didn’t want to pull through.

What was worse was that she was right. Dalish and all, not knowing the rules fully, but she had been right. Anora sold them both off to save her own filthy skin, and now they had to pay the consequences.

And Alistair told her to stay calm, that she had no reason getting angry, she would have done the same and she knew it. She was overreacting, and he defended his uncle against her.

His uncle who made him sleep with the dogs. His uncle who threw him away to the Templars when his new wife asked him to.

She told him things she didn’t want to tell him, and retreated in her room. Kicked Stan out of it, because she really didn’t want to put up with anyone, this evening.

She just wanted to take off the accursed boots and nasty clothes she donned, jump in a bath to scrub the prison and the feeling of wearing someone else’s dirty clothes, and retaliate redecorating the room with her knives. Those curtains were ugly.

She managed up to the bath, scrubbing herself raw with a piece of soap and a rag, until her skin reddened and felt sensible, cleaned and combed her hair carefully.

As she was still combing her hair with a finer comb and finally starting to relax minutely with the gesture, someone knocked on her door.

Alyra huffed and ignored it. She was dressed but in a robe, humans and Andrastians were bashful about being undress, and she just wanted to be left alone. It was almost a year since she had left the clan and started to solve other people’s problems, they could leave her an evening of quiet and sulking in peace.

Apparently, they really couldn’t.

Knock knock knock.

It grew more insisting. Alyra ignored it again, hopping on her feet and heading to the desk, as her fingers worked to braid red locks sprouting over her left ear.

Knock knock knock knock knock knock.

The mysterious pesterer sped the rhythm up, growing more frantical at each hit on the wood.

“Coming.” She groaned aloud, understanding that she wouldn’t have gotten rid of anyone there without being vocal about it.

Whatever anger she lost in the bathtub and doing her hair was instantly gained all over again. And with some extra at the idea that out there was Alistair, wishing to continue any further with the shitshow of blaming the other. Which was probably the last thing she wanted to do, right there and then. She clenched her hand on the handle and opened the door to the corridor abruptly, sneering at whomever was there.

“I hope it’s important.”

She hissed, before fully realizing who was on the other side exactly.

She met with Morrigan, hand still raised in gesture and looking at her with a weird expression on her face. One Alyra had never seen her sporting.

Considering she was alone, she didn’t want her there either: she tried, and tried and tried to flirt and get somewhere with her, but to no avail. If whatever they may have was friendship and companionship, she could accept it and gladly so… but not now.

Now, she stood there, looking at her like one would a mythological creature. A manticore ready to bite. She said nothing.

And because it was Morrigan, Alyra took a deep breath and spoke first.

“I am sorry. But if it’s not important, I am tired.”

“Tis important enough.” Morrigan answered, in that serious briskness that admitted just a yes.

Alyra moved to leave her space enough to enter her room. Closed the door all over again, knowing that whatever she wanted to tell her wasn’t something either of them would have liked to share with the first scullery maid that walked their way. She stayed on the door, leaving the other woman space. Not that she personally liked the space, not with her. But she knew cornering the other wouldn’t have led to good results, as it never did before save having her recoil on herself and get further away. Plus, it wasn’t the moment to stoke on whatever tension was going on between them. It really wasn’t the moment.

She leant on the door and started to absent-mindedly braid her hair and pretending she wasn’t aware of her guest pacing in the room with a frustrated gait.

“Why did you do it?” Morrigan asked, and she was angry about it, tho she tried to contain it.

“I did a lot of things, you need to be more specific.” She ended one little braid over her left ear and picked three locks from above the right one, getting back to work.

“You escaped from the prison without waiting for help. Do you realise how-”

“Yes, Morrigan, I do realize that was a risky endeavour that could have gotten us in even more troubles than what we already were in.” she interrupted her, letting irritation seep into her voice.

She didn’t want to take it out on her, she knew the other was just worried, but she had had the same argument with Eamon and she wasn’t keen in losing even more time discussing over something that couldn’t be changed.

“After careful considerations on my part, I realised that the only way to get out of that prison, seen the current political situation, was to escape from it. It worked, we’re both here, I already was made present it was a stupid move, as if asking Loghain to please release the Wardens he’s been hunting down for a year wasn’t even more stupid.” She explained, finishing the second braid and picking other three locks above the first. She used them to form a third braid, with another plain lock, and adding hair to each section at each crossing. “I already lost enough time over this argument, if that’s all you needed to tell me, Eamon beat you to it and I won’t listen to the same thing twice.”

They glared at each other for a minute, no one ready to lower their eyes first. Alyra stopped blinking, even, to show resolve. If that move was enough to destabilize most people, it wasn’t enough for Morrigan. It never had been, and the other just snorted at her as soon as she realize what she was doing, unimpressed. The witch stepped towards her, glaring more.

“You don’t understand. There’s more at stake than you think, you cannot do these things.”

“More at stake than I think?” Alyra hissed, letting the finished braid down with a vengeance. “Oh, you mean more than Ferelden falling into a full scale civil war, that will just be stopped by the fucking zombie invasion and rabid dragon we didn’t stop? You mean more than the Blight crawling across the Frostback and taking the world unprepared? More than that? I am sorry I didn’t consider it, in my humble and limited knowledge of the world. You was so less sheltered than I was.”

That hit her. That hit her low, and the worse thing was that Alyra knew it would have. She looked at her with fury, now, fire blazing from her golden eyes. She wanted to kiss her, bad. They got close in the argument. Too close, the witch was standing but a step in front of her, chest heaving as she got her breath back.

“You don’t understand.” Morrigan just told her.

“Help me, then.” Alyra prodded. “What am I missing?”

She shifted forward at that, not pressing directly into the other, not touching, but getting closer, and not leaving her eyes from hers.  She heard the mage catch her breath, saw her eyes fall down on her lips, on the cleavage that her robe let peek out.

Morrigan groaned, frustrated, and turned her back at her, stepping back into the room. As Alyra knew she would have had. It wasn’t surprising. It wasn’t exactly the first time she pulled a similar stunt, getting closer and waiting for the other to decide whether to step forward or back, waiting for consent. And every time it ended like that. She looked down, there and then, and stepped to the other side of the room, leaning over the desk and shuffling the papers on it. Notes, schemes and maps, summaries of books she had taken from the library in the estate, trying to get a quick grip on Fereldan politics and how a Landsmeet even worked without relying on Eamon or his idiot of a brother too much.

Going on with her evening as if Morrigan wasn’t there.

She had shared the room with her since they arrived, after all, it wasn’t anything strange. The difference was that they were both in a mood, right now, both too stubborn to step out of it.

Alyra considered asking her to please find another place to sleep, tonight. Or to go herself to crack in Leliana’s room. There was just a certain amount of rejection she could stomach, for a day, and she needed to get a grip on herself and set her life back on track. If with the mage currently pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, hugging herself somewhat protectively, all that ever would be was a friendship, a too-close one at that, that was fine. But she needed at least one night of peace to set her mind to it.

In any case, she needed warmer clothes on. She huffed in disappointment, as another shiver ran down her spine, reminding her that she was underdressed for the weather and those large rooms were impossible to warm up properly.

Her notes got collected in one neat pile she tapped thrice on the desk, and left down on it, caring for the bottom to be parallel to the edge of the table. And then she moved, still ignoring her roommate. She could stare at the fire all she wanted, Alyra didn’t care. Maybe the fire knew what she was missing.

She made it to the dresser and to open a drawer, before Morrigan spoke again.

“There is one thing I cannot tell you.”

Every word fell out of her lips like a stone sinking in a clear pond, heavy and slow.

“You don’t trust me.” Alyra concluded. It stung, quite a lot.

“Tis not that.”

“What is it, then?” She picked up her clothes, choosing with a calm she didn’t feel. Honestly, she was tired and she just wished everyone would leave her alone.

She didn’t look at the other, walking to the screen to get changed. At least the floor was protected by carpets, so walking barefoot wasn’t that unpleasant. But she didn’t make it to the screen.

Morrigan caught her arm, and she reacted by instinct. She pulled her arm back and pivoted on it, to get free and away. As skilled as a mage that she was, physically she was no match: in a moment, Alyra was free and facing the other, and a safe three steps away, instinctively in a fighting stance with bent knees, ready to jump.

“I didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t have believed me, or you would have gone away, or sent me away. I couldn’t risk it at first. And then… Things got complicated.”

“Complicated.”

“Yes.” She frowned harder, cheeks taking some colour. “I… I will tell you. But not now.”

“Are you going to stab me in the back?”

“On the contrary. Not any more than you did escaping on your own.”

Alyra snorted again, not understanding what even was the point of that conversation. Why she couldn’t tell her… Whatever it was that she was keeping secret. She glared at her, rage renewed past disappointment and rejection.

“What do you want, Morrigan?” She straightened her back, and even if at full height she couldn’t reach her, she put all her dignity up. “I’m out of my patience, if you want to tell me I’m a traitor because I am here, you can go gossip about me with Wynne, Eamon and Alistair, finally there’s one thing you can all agree upon.”

She turned her back and went again to the screen, not hunching down, minding her steps to be as elegant and dignified as she can. Not let her think she hurt you. Never that.

But it served her nothing: her arm was grabbed again, more forcefully this time. When Alyra again tried to set herself free, tho, Morrigan was ready. As soon as she turned to face the other woman, her other arm was equally grabbed, and she was pushed back, taking advantage of the turning to set her out of balance and surprised.

Her back was on the stone of the wall in moments, and Morrigan was there, close as ever, glaring at her.

“Thou worried me. I fear they’ll come and get thee and thou’ll get justiced without a sentence, this time. That was such a stupid thing to do, and I believed thou were more intelligent than that.”

“That was the only possible choice.”

“We were organizing a rescue party. Leliana and I-”

“No.”

Mahariel snapped her hands forward at that. The very idea she was just proposed made her blood boil. Knowing that Morrigan of all people was acting on it… She closed her fingers on the witch’s arms and pushed, hooking an ankle behind hers to make her loose balance and have her way more easily. It was fairly easy, then, to turn their positions around and have Morrigan pressed upon the wall, with her pinning her in position. She stepped even forward, keeping her blocked by pressing her hips on hers. She glared at few centimetres from her face.

“I already let one person I loved die for my sake. I couldn’t save Tamlen, but I’ll be dead before I’ll let the same happen to you, you understand?” She snapped. “Not waiting for you to enter Fort Drakon to get me out was the only possible choice.”

She declared, and they were there. Chest to chest, breathing heavily. Morrigan smelled of smoke and firewood and pines. And her expression had grown harsher at her words. Alyra didn’t care. But Alyra, maybe, wasn’t as intelligent as she was considered. She shifted her head slightly forward towards the other’s, stopping a breath away from Morrigan’s lips. She wanted consent, and she wouldn’t move any further.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?” Morrigan asked, turning crimson at the question but stubbornly refusing to shy away.

“You don’t kiss me either.” She pointed out, ghosting her lips over the other’s, encouraged by how she wasn’t trying to move away, this time. It would have hurt more when the mage would have eventually pulled away, but she didn’t care, right now. All she cared about was that she was there, her presence and her smell comforting, and she wanted that consent. So bad. “Why were you worried?”

“I-” The Witch swallowed, breath catching and chin lifting up, following the other for a moment. “-The idiot…”

“Alistair knows.” She told her. “I told him we wouldn’t have been exclusives from the start. And besides, he doesn’t want me, these days.”

It stung, but it stung a little less, right there and then, pressed snugly against Morrigan, her lips so, so close. She held on, but she was moments away from begging.

“He’s a fool.”

“Do you want me?” Alyra cut her short. Alistair was right now the last person she wanted to think about.

Well, one of the last ones.

But she observed Morrigan biting her lower lip, and it just made her want to kiss it better so, so bad. But no. Consent. The last distance was for the other to fill. She cajoled and manipulated her way through Ferelden, but she would never do the same in a bedroom. Particularly with Morrigan, who had been her friend and the one that didn’t mind the cajoling and manipulations and daggers. She was pinning her in place, but not trapping her. Never that. She felt trapped for most of her life to know what it felt like.

“I wanted to welcome you home.” Morrigan admitted, finally, as it was a challenge.

“I’m right here.” Alyra challenged her back, taking her for measure. As she did for the start. As they both did with the other from the very beginning.

Morrigan huffed from her nose, in frustration, and surged forward, pressing her lips on hers.

Alyra would have whined, had she less self-control than she had. Months and months of waiting, and finally that was it.

She kissed her back, pushing her head against the wall and titling her own for a better reach. She tasted like smoke and like the woods and her hands were clumsy on her face. She raised hers to cup the others and redirect them on her cheeks, placing her better. For all her sharp tongue, it was clear she wasn’t that experienced, if any at all.

After a while, they both parted to gasp for air, breathing heavily, some of the frustration and anger disappeared. She never looked so good, Alyra thought, and wonder how much better could she exactly looked if she just could manage to kiss her longer harder, until her lips grew red and swollen, how much more her hair would get ruffled with enough fingers through it.

“Welcome home.”

Morrigan said, and Alyra took another kiss in all answer.

A whine escaped Morrigan’s lips as she gently bit her lower lip, hands slipping on the small of her back to press her flush against her, and that was how she knew that she won the hunt.

[sidhelives]

Thanks @kittynomsdeplume and @noire-pandora for the tag!

We've got a double whammy this week

The first one-shot I've been working on is an idea I had at the beginning of the year and never followed through with at the time. It involves Leliana/Morrigan and an emotional reunion come Inquisition:

"Can I help you, Morrigan?"

It was the first time Leliana had spoken to her in ten years.

Her voice was professional and cold, which shouldn't have been surprising, shouldn't have hurt the way it did deep in Morrigan's chest.

"I wanted to speak to you," she responded, tone softer than she had intended.

Leliana didn't move, attention still seemingly focused on the faint lines dividing Ferelden and Orlais. "If it is related to our struggle against Corypheus I advise you go directly to the Inquisitor. Otherwise, I'm sure Josephine can assist with anything you require."

Dismissive. Short. Nothing like she was before. Had Morrigan done that when she left? Or had it happened in the decade that she wasn't there?

"I don't wish to speak to the Inquisitor or Ambassador Montilyet. I wish to speak to you," Morrigan clarified firmly. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. The sharp pain gave her something to focus on besides the tempest rolling through her.

"There is nothing which requires discussion between us I'm afraid." Another dismissal. Still she didn't so much as glance over her shoulder. "If there is nothing else—"

"Leli, please," Morrigan cut her off, the woman's inattention pushing the anxiety in her stomach from between her lips.

Leliana's head snapped around to fix her with a hard, furious glare. "Do not call me that. You relinquished the right to any such niceties when you disappeared."

Understandably that is a little heavy. As an emotional break I've also been working on a fluffier one-shot involving Anora/Alistair prior to their wedding:

Alistair's spoon clinking against the bottom of his bowl rang like a gong in the uneasy silence. Anora was endlessly grateful that he didn't slurp like his late brother had. Her own spoon never touched porcelain as it dipped carefully in and out of her bowl, years of etiquette training branding the delicate movements into her bones. Her new fiance had no such training, no hard wired code of conduct drilled into his mind and muscles. He had been no one in Eamon's court, a favored pet of the Arl, free to do as he wished until the Orlesian harpy had him shipped to the Chantry. Was it jealousy, Anora wondered, that rested on the back of her tongue like bile? Her own childhood had been a rigorous series of preparations for her eventual position at Cailan's side. Alistair had not been groomed for rule and yet it had been handed to him by those same men who watched her master every step and turn of the dance, who had observed her pulling strings around Cailan's shoulders to keep the country from falling into ruin for five years before the Blight.

Hoping they'll both be finished this week 🎉

Tagging: @the-cryptographer @piecesofsolaswriting @frostyfelassan @hezjena2023 @beaubartley