#anyways this guy is a former inquisitor

[leexds-oc-chaos]

fuck you star wars self insertish oc

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Ok I’ll give Veilguard this. In Inquisition you grow to love Solas (if you actually like him, haters need not apply here). In Trespasser you can feel the weight of his hinted past and sorrow and feel that uncomfortable mixture of betrayal and sympathy but also more betrayal and doubt. You look at him as a friend or a lover, and in high approval he very much behaves as a thoughtful man with a touch of wry irony to him. But always gentle. That’s the framework Solas loving/liking Inquisitors see him in.

But in Veilguard… hoooo boy, I hate him (in a good way). Like I love him? But the game showcases him at his most snide, his slyest, his most calculating, his most haughty. We can argue whether it’s a facade that he’s channeling to help him push through to finish his goals or if his Pride is in fact twisting him, or if this truly is all of his flaws front-loaded for Rook and the player to see.

It *does* fulfill the warning that Solas gave Lavellan in Trespasser that he didn’t want her to see what he’d become. I came into the game a die hard pining Solasmancer and yeah, I wasn’t.. frightened or put off, but I was admittedly unnerved. In fact it fulfilled a specific fear I have of people, it being “I don’t know who is secretly evil”, so watching Solas sneer and talk down to Rook in their first two conversations from a place of power and self-importance made my stomach turn in an evocative way. It was effective for me, and they managed to keep the facade up by not making Solas one-note in his evil. He was regretful, nostalgic, and gave kudos to the people of the Inquisition. I was happy to know he didn’t see them only as pawns in the end. He did grow to care for them. But in his mind, that phase of his life, that “mission”, is over.

Like thank GOD they didn’t completely butcher this character. Lotta stuff surrounding him was fucked but Solas himself remained at least somewhat coherent and functioned adequately as a versatile ‘anti-villain that thinks he’s an anti-hero but also a villain and it’s complicated, okay, but he does have some villainous mannerisms that make you go ‘uh..hold on a sec, you seem to be enjoying that a bit..’ villain.

To see my man be that wicked to Rook is like.. wow, this is how he treats people he has no feelings for who stand in his way. The Solas we got in Inquisition was de-powered, and maybe you built an antagonistic relationship with him, but he got to *know* you. With Rook you are conversing with a Max Disapproval Solas from the jump. It is greatly derived from the fact that you foiled his ritual—you, some guy. He treats you like some random off the street who infuriatingly messed with his plan, because you are. You have no direct connection to him. You might as well not even exist to him. That it wasn’t eveb a former member of the Inquisition who managed to pull a fast one on him. If it were a member of the Inquisition he would have deemed them worthy. But you? You’re unworthy of having accomplished trapping him.

Like Who are you to stop him? Who actually in the fuck are you? You’re a whelp, you’re vapor, a waste of perfectly good yearbook space.

It’s giving Sovereign v. Shepard vibes, naturally. And I’ll admiiiiiiiit it was at least modestly interesting to see this dynamic play out with a humanoid rather than a giant eldritch space monster.

But anyway, yeah. Solas was kind of misused, as was everything in Veilguard, but there are some decent truffles to dig up in this mud.

[seth-shitposts]

Hehehe it's Alice[💖]

I'm scheduling this post as a gift for the guys. On my way to our job I thought of a scene or something for one of their stories. >:]

Sorry Sebby&Lexie, bit I do not know what yallve shared or not so this interaction between Tua and Him [former grand inquisitor] might be horridly out of context 💀💀💀

Anyway scene suggestion for Sense of Faith Self & Valor

He chuckles over the rim of whatever alcohol Tua has given him, cringing at the retelling of exactly why he doesn't stand to close to anyone holding a saber. Especially Reva. "Alright, Alright," he waves through her giggles, "tell me a secret of yours that you've never told anyone. Before I regret having told you at all."

Tua's giggles quiets as she begins to catalog. Secrets. Not something she's short on, but which one would make him feel better after that? The woman groans as one takes crown over the rest. "Oh stars."

He raises a brow in interest, smiling toothily at how the shame seems to snap around her at the mere thought of whatever it is that's struck her recollection. "Pull something that good?"

"Unfortunately so," Tua looks over to him, and feels the tension in her shoulders ease. "It is a good one though."

"Well," He sprawls across the counter, one handresting to lazily support his head while the other skims and circles the rim of his glass, "Do share with the class, Maketh."

"I'll have to preface this with some background."

"Oh, I get to be acquainted with such I limited details of Maketh Tua's past life?"

"Yes, now shush. Back when I was first studying at Lothal's academy, my parents had been worried that I wouldn't be able to do something to surpass them, to surpass the family and secure my position as heiress."

"You're an heiress?";

"If that's where your questions begin, this is going to be a much longer story."

"Mmm yes princess, please forgive me for speaking out of turn," he makes a whole theatrics show.

"Oh shut up," she can't shake the grin over his playful and teasing behaviour, "I overheard them talking one night of finding me a proper suitor. So I applied to every academy in the innermost rims as I could and left before they could start searching."

"I bet they were thrilled to have a run away bride as a daughter."

"Oh I was the prize of the family. First one to study at some of the most prestigious academies in the galaxy and became minister? My extended family hated my guts and prayed for my downfall. My parents got over their initial anger over me having some self agency. My achievements were good enough to grant me forgiveness."

"With family like that, who needs enemies?"

"I do, apparently. But, as I was getting to. Even after returning to lothal and achieving more than anyone in the family before me, they still kept trying to set me up or marry me off. That I needed a man to take care of me."

"You do need someone to cover your ass, you're hopeless when it comes to combat."

"This argument will be had later. Anyway, they were about to arrange a marriage. They were about to tell me, but I told them I was dating someone. Someone within the empire who is a highly ranked specialized agent."

"Oh. My. Force." His jaw hits the counter as he stares wide eyed up at her. "Maketh Tua, you did not."

"I most certainly did. I lied my ass off to them and told my entire family that I was dating Kallus."

He starts snorting from laughter, "and you played that off??? They believed that bluff??"

"The only one who didn't believe it for a second was my uncle. He was so proud of me."

"The uncle who is the unmarried fisherman and family disappointment?"

"Yes, but I seem to be challenging him for that last title."

[meowsgirldrawing]

Dorian and his elven daughter

Word Count- 2,706

AO3- Link

Masterlist- Link

“Oh, fuck that.”

Dorian laughs, gripping the amulet in his hand tightly. His laugh echoes against the interior of his office, which is big enough to be considered a master bedroom honestly. He hears Bellatrix’s giggles emit from the crystal as his calms. 

“I mean, the guy acts like an indecent asshole-” 

 “Are there any decent ones?”

 “ You would know. ANYWAY-,”

 Dorian bursts into more laughter.

 “then turns around, acting shocked when you give it back to him- mind you, in a civilized manner. Jeez. Tevinter sounds  great. ” She retorts, causing him seconds from wheezing in his chair.

 After a moment, he breaths. He leans back in his chair and chuckles finally evening out. His hand holds against his chin, smiling wryly, “Maybe you can come to the next Imperial sphere, it’ll be grand! We can comment on the man’s attire- scare him into thinking the worst.”

 “  Oh dear! I saw the Inquisitor and Magister Pavus speaking ill, I hope my luscious seat still shines afterward! ” Her voice deepens, the scornful attempt at a Tevinter accent could make his grandparents and father turn in their graves. 

 “I thought you didn’t like your former title though? A change of heart maybe?” He teases.

 “Dor Dor, I’ve had to accept by now that it will follow me to my grave and even afterwards, whether I want it to or not. Might as well get some use of it.” She shrugs in spite of the fact he can’t see it, “Especially against some entitled, fucking wise-ass who tries to insult one of my favorite nieces.”

 “Yes well, you’ll be glad to know that he not only looked like the most miserable, silliest person there, but I saw him practically run out with his tail between his legs soon after.

 She snickers, “Good.”

 “Thankfully, there was no falter in the new arrangements so everyone matter-of-factly expected Briva and I at the next gathering without trouble.”

 A low whistle, “Damn, Dor, look at youuuu! Already some change in the social rank. Metaphorically, of course.”

 He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Tis similar, still have much more work that will last well over a lifetime or two.”

 “Yeah, well- good thing you- wait… FUCK! TURNIP, NO!-” A thud, Bellatrix coughs, and some shuffling.  Dorian pauses, looking down at the crystal in his palm. It flicks from light to off, indicating more to the commotion. He hesitates, “Bella?” He taps it, all the same of knowing it’s alright- just something to check, “Bellatrix? Is everything alright?”

 Soon, the crystal shines bright again with the elf’s voice coming through, albeit, breathless.

“The dog…jumped..on me.” More shuffling, “I think he heard my.. grt- whistling. …This is why I’m a cat person.”

 He breaks into laughter as she huffs, “Are you alright?” 

 “Wouldn’t you like to know, fucker.” She growls, her tone still light.

 “Ass.”

 “Shit-talker.”

He goes to continue their game when he notices Gilmi, one of the head servants of his household, standing nervously by the door, waiting patiently.

“Bella?”

 “Yeah? Is everything alright?” She clearly picked up his change of tone.

 “Not sure. I’ll send back for you once I’m done.”

 “Got it, Dor Dor. Tell Briva her favorite Aunt said hi.”

 He motions for the servant to come in, snickering, “You know she has close to 6 other Aunts, yes?”

 “Un-noted. Take care.”

“You do the same.” The connection cuts and he stashes the amulet carefully back into his desk, giving the servant his full attention.

 “Is something the matter, dear?”

 “Not…exactly sir, Miss Briva is the library. Uhm, something occurred and now she’s scared. Mister Jervah told me to just come get you.”

 The moment Dorian heard the second line, he jerked from his chair, his gut clenched. He doesn’t waste time, quickly thanking the elf before making his way down to the library. The clicking of boots doesn’t help his nerves. They only add to the ever-growing fear, his hands tight, and mind racing at any horror his daughter was frightened of. 

Possibilities flood though. An assassin paid to kidnap or hurt her-  Well, he knows the guards would have stopped and alerted him immediately, but still….  An animal at the window?-  Briva absolutely adores them, she would have been running in, wanting to show him honestly.  A book she shouldn’t have read,  Then again, he holds all of the spell tomes or spell-based ones on a high shelf or locked in his office, safe……STILL-

 Arriving at the doors, he makes haste in opening and coming through.

  All right, time to throw all the previous worries out the window, along with his sanity- specifically the barely hanging nail one from across the room, shattered glass scattered around on on top of the window seal.  One that completes the look of a tornado, fire, and ice-mixed wonderland. 

Books are thrown off shelves, some burned with others frozen in crystal cold. The curtains scorched from the bottom up, continuous crackles hitting his ears.  The floor has puddles of water, as well as short layers of ice in some spots- his foot almost slips but he steadies himself on a half-burned desk near the door. 

 He trudged slowly around the room, tensely looking everywhere with wide, fearful eyes, also casting out swift but small spells to counter the others. All the while, calling out for his little girl. Fear has him caged at this point; with all this mass of destruction, no wonder his little one was terrified. 

“Briva, darling. Papa’s here, I-”

 “Ser Pavus,”

 He turns, presently holding a piece of paper, one that Briva had obviously been working on beforehand. The ink was fresh and oily.

 “Jervah, where’s my daughter?” Maintaining his calm and ever-resounding nature in his voice. In spite of this, the older elf looks upon him with understanding. He motions towards the door across the library. It’s an extra room, made specifically for when he and Briva are focusing on her studies.

 As Dorian crosses the foothold, Jervah speaks up assuringly, “I let the others know to leave you two be. You will need it.” Not understanding this but knowing he will soon, the Magister nods, before returning to his most important.

He casts a minor spell, a light orb that lights up the room. “Briva?...Briva, honey.” His voice is tight, trying his damndest to sound heartening-  despite his own heart currently moving-

 He stops at the shuffling. Moving the orb closer in its direction, he sees a small figure under the middle table- scooting further under it as if to hide from the light. He sighs, relief flooding over him when realization hits. 

 Dorian takes his time, hands behind his back as he sends multiple orbs around corners of the room, lighting it up more until it turns into a soft, light blue hue. Her favorite color.

 “...Briva? Is everything alright, my dearest?”

 She doesn’t respond, concealing her face in her knees, arms wrapped around her tightly. With a kneel, he takes notice of the ice around her fingertips.

 Oh..

 He blinks.

 So that’s what happened….Another wave of relief,  Her powers just manifested. That’s all..

 Now, he speaks up, “Briva, dear, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

 She takes a moment before shaking her head, just barely. “Do you want to come out?”

 Another shake of the head.

 “Alright,” He sits down and tucks his legs under him. His robes fell around him, touching the ice residue and crowding around the two of them. She moves her head up quickly.

 “No!”

 He stops, looking at her.

 She gnaws on her lip. Her eyes were blotchy and red, with tears streaming down her bubbly cheeks as her pointed ears droop slightly. 

  “Y-you’re gonna mess up y-your outfit.”

 Dorian can’t help himself- a short laugh escapes from him. Mae, the loving sport, was always saying how Briva could be his blood by how she acted at times; it’s clear as ever even now. Still chuckling at her confused and worried look, he gently coaxes her out from the table. 

 “Please, it’ll soon be water. It’s fine, I promise.”

 She’s hesitant, bunching her light florid, green dress in her tiny hands. Reluctantly she moves and settles into his lap. Now sensing she wasn’t in trouble, she buried her face into his chest. Unfortunately, she starts tearing up again when his arms wrap around her in a tight, but soft cradle. 

 The patient quietness gets mellowed out as Dorian runs a soothing hand through her curly hair, “Are you alright, my dear?”

 She doesn’t speak but nods. “What about your hands? Are they cold?”

 A pause before another small nod.

 “Here.” With an easy hand, he warms it just enough yet pauses when she flinches. He frowns, concerned. Briva has never been afraid of his magic. Nor Mae’s, Estel’s, or any other of her mage Aunts and Uncles. Curious yes, but never frightened. Only when she sees it in public or from other Magisters in general is when she gets somewhat nervous- that’s when he pulls her closer as to soothe her thoughts. 

  Kaffas- she just discovered herself that she has mage blood and after experiencing something such that is emotionally reeling to most young ones- especially at her age!  Dorian curses inwardly at himself.  The first thing I go and do is use one of the main elements.

 Dorian moves his hand away an inch, “Is this alright, dear?”

She looks up before glancing down at his hand. She gives a small nod and lends her hand back. 

 As the frost disappears from her fingers, Dorian leans his back on the table side. It digs into his upper back, but he pays it no mind. He could care less when his daughter is his main concern at the moment. 

 “What happened?”  Her body stills at the question. 

 “Briva?” 

 “... I-im sorry.. ” Dorian tilts his head, “Whatever for, my dearest?”

 Her hands wipe her eyes, sniffling and whimpering. “I  ruined  the Library. The b-books are ruined! I-i didn't mean to- I was only reading what Mister Jervah gave me and then-,” A small sob escapes her, tearing at his heart. Every urge in his body fights against the instinct to hug her tightly to him, to hide her away from it; as much as he wants to, she needs some room to speak.

“A-and then! -Ice and fire came… I think I h-hurt Mr.Jervah!” Briva cries.

 “Mr.Jervah said he was alright, dear. No need to worry.” He assures, brushing the curly hair from her face. 

 “B–b-but, in the Library! I-” 

 “The books, curtains, and any other affected object there can be replaced. You cannot, however.”

 Briva looks down as her hands fumble in her lap. “..I’m sorry, papa..”

 Dorian smiles, pulling her closer, “Briva, darling.”

 She glances back up. The tears get gently wiped away by him, swiftly pulling down his long sleeve to dry her cheeks. As he does this, he continues, “Dear, you know what happened exactly, yes?”

 She pauses. “I’m like Papa?”

 He chuckles, nodding along, “Yes, you have what many consider, mage blood. You will learn more as you grow, but, “ He adjusts himself, still holding Briva in his lap, “You understand what that means, correct.” He checks.

 “Yes, But,” She bites her cheek, “Isn’t it…dangerous? Aunt Mae said some people think mages are scary.”

 He sighs, “Unfortunately people believe that, of course. It’s just like how many believe your other father is a scary beast all because of his appearance.”

 “But father is nice! He’s not a beast.” 

 “I know that. But it’s an undeserving fact, sadly.”

 She goes quiet again. A less tight grip on her dress, the same one that bundles around her, barely touching the ground underneath her father’s lap. She studies the way to fabric lay, thinking through her next words. Dorian is patient, only humming and brushing through her hair contently.

 She’s hesitant, “ Can I…can I use my magic like yours?” She looks up, “Like how you used it to help Aunt Bellatrix and Estel?” 

 He smiles as she continues, “You said you only use it when the aid for people is needed, you helped people…I wanna do that.”

 “With time and careful studies, indeed. It can be done, my dearest.” 

 It’s almost like she was never crying, never scared- her bright smile grew on her face before she erupted in giggles and hugged him. Like every time, he never hesitates to reciprocate, holding her close as chuckles leave him.

After leading her out of the study, Dorian and Briva find Jervah standing near the entrance of the Library. His grin matches Dorian's, as he greets Briva, who runs up to him with a worry in her brow. “Mister Jervah! Are you alright?”

 The older man chuckles, kneeling down, “I am alright, madam. No need to worry.” She gives a shy smile and hugs him.

 As Briva talks with Jervah, Dorian’s happiness starts to dwindle. Slowly and awfully as new anxiety kicks in.  She’s a mage.  His hidden gaze ponders over his daughter, who’s giggling as Jervah holds her up.

  An elven mage….In Tevinter .

 She’s going to have many troubles try and run through her. People are going to look upon her as nothing other than a unique piece for a stealer’s collection, or an unwanted soon enemy.  People will want to hurt her..  His darling little girl.  The dear one that his husband, Fuliz, saved close to 6 years ago.

 Well….He perks up, “Briva?”

 She looks over, smiling, “Yes, Papa?”

 “Would you like to go with Miss Gilmi and get cleaned up? Papa and Jervah will take care of things here.”

 She tilts her head, “Surely I can at least gather the saved books?”

  Oh bless her , he instead shakes his head but keeps his smile plastered, “I’m quite sure, my dearest.” Leaning down, he welcomes her quick hug, placing a kiss on her head, “Run along now, we’ll be fine.”

 With a nod and a small grin, she does so. Grabbing onto Gilmi’s outreached hand, she waves as the two leave. 

 He waves back, waiting for them to be completely out of view before he speaks in a quiet but firm tone, “Jervah, for now on: please notify the guards and staff to keep an extra eye on all entrances, no matter the circumstances. And if anything happens that concerns Briva or strange behavior from staff, tell me immediately.”

 “Of course, sir.” Jervah bows, and makes his way out. Dorian turns, hands behind his back as he casts out spells. As chairs and tables float back to positions, the curtains being pulled down for replacement, and frost being melted and dried away, he stands near the window. His eyes ogle at the gate that guards his home.

  He once felt shame and dishonor for who he was, for where he was from, for his decisions on who to love and be around.  He feels his jaw clench,  no matter what, he will make absolutely sure Briva will not ever feel the same still lingering feeling he feels now. 

 While his fears from before have just become stilling nightmares and comments he can now brush off without a blink, 

 While he now has a wonderful and sweet husband waiting to come visit him and their girl in between mercenary missions, 

 While he has multiple friends all over Thedas that wouldn’t think twice to help him when heeded- 

 The judgment and disdain from his peers continue like an endorsed flame. People look upon him and send assassins of words or people in their wake, in their distaste. People fight to stop his coming dent in their country, and all would turn towards his little girl when she joins his side. All for her pointed ears and now magic. 

 Well…he smirks lightly, spinning back to the room and out the door.

They best send their biggest armies at him and his own growing power, cause the Fade will have to destroy itself before he allows any of them to even step a foot near her.

  She is his daughter, no matter the blood. As long as he lives and breathes, she doesn’t have to be afraid. Never like he once was.

[gaychocolatehomicide]

tell me about your messy inky i’m curious 👀 (if you want, idk if you haven’t talked about your ocs out of shyness or if it’s a Decision™️ but if it’s the former. I Am Giving You Permission)

HI OKAY SO sorry about the wait I had a really busy week (or three) at work but I wasn't ignoring you I prommy

So I have a ton of Inquisitors but specifically the one I was thinking of is Tristan Trevelyan, my terrible terrible boy from the Wrong Answers Only playthrough. The general concept for that worldstate is "what if I just make the objectively wrongest choice in every instance" and I will almost certainly never actually play it (can't bring myself to do some of the choices x.x) but it's a delightful thought experiment, particularly in the "what kind of person would you have to be to act like that in this situation" department. Just to give you an idea: the Warden in that run DOESN'T rescue the dog from Ostagar. It's that bad.

So Tristan! A nobleborn artificer rogue (really he should be a Champion if we were allowed to cross-class spec, but of the rogue options artificer makes the most sense. He's a tricksy bastard and besides, tempest is too messy and assassin is a little too denial-of-the-self-y.), Tristan is at the conclave because his mage cousin was going with the delegation from Ostwick and he wanted to travel. He learned most of his rogue skills sneaking out of the family home to go get into trouble in town, and he is primarily concerned with his own personal comfort and advancement. Mostly, at least before the conclave, he's content to wait. His father is a pretty powerful noble and he's the oldest son so as long as he doesn't do anything TOO heinous, he'll inherit and then he can do whatever he wants. He's twenty six and unmarried, though he's been kinda lazily courting one of the daughters of a noble out of Starkhaven. He's starting to think his father is taking too long to die/retire and should maybe hurry up, and maybe he needs some help... But only if there's no way for it to trace back to Tristan, obviously.

Then he gets caught up in the explosion and survives, and suddenly everyone's calling him the Herald of Andraste, and he really doesn't need his father's estate if he's in charge of the greatest military force on the continent, now does he? Basically the Inquisition offers him power beyond his wildest dreams and he 100% leans into that shit. He is the gaslight gatekeep girlboss king, and he makes every choice directly dependent on growing the Inquisition's power and thus, his own. He goes "yes actually I WAS sent by the Maker in your time of greatest need, I'm here to rescue you from everything. All you have to do is exactly what I say~"

The issue with him is that he's way too smart for his own good, so he always pushes just far enough to get what he wants and no farther. He's incredibly deft at keeping himself out of trouble by not being held accountable for the shit he absolutely did. Did the envy demon at Therinfall get him? No, he's just like that, actually the demon was a little freaked out by his ambition and ruthlessness. Also, he's unfairly attractive. Appearance-wise I like to think of him as one of those ethereally beautiful people that can sometimes happen when one parent is Chinese and the other one is from like central Africa? I'm thinking specifically of a guy I knew in college who could literally knock me out by smiling in my direction. Anyways.

He's a hanging judge except for when the person in question could maybe help him, in which case he takes their stuff and/or throws them in prison. He loves the skyhold prison, it's huge. The only people in that whole place he gets along with are Varric (zero morals but very loyal, exactly Tristan's kind of guy), Leliana (further hardened), Cassandra (cop), and Vivienne (pro-establishment free marcher who sees a lot of herself in Tristan). Solas and Sera both hate his guts, Iron Bull doesn't trust him as far as he can see him (not as far as he can throw him because he could probably yeet Tristan quite a ways, and his suspicions turn out to be confirmed uhhhh rip the Chargers), and Blackwall clocks him as the type of guy that Ranier used to be (but turned up to 11) in about 30 seconds flat. Cole really doesn't understand him at all, and after a few botched attempts to get in his head (Tristan reacts REALLY badly to that kind of thing after the demon at Therinfall, and Cole was there for that so really all the sweet baby is doing is giving Tristan flashbacks while he tries to help) he just decides to drift around helping other people. Dorian... Ok he definitely sleeps with Dorian but he also says homophobic slurs. Which is not ideal for anyone. Bull tries to kinda protect Dorian from that nonsense at the beginning but after the Chargers, well... It's not good. Josephine is briefly delighted by having someone else competent at crowd control, then she gets to know him and treats him much like people treat the Du Launcets in DA2. Cullen isn't really in a place to have much of an opinion, Tristan is way too much like a smoother version of the worst commanders Cullen has had in the past for him to do a lot other than paperwork and panic attack.

So I feel like @the-chantry-sucks-ass's boy Aeryn would meet Tristan one time and be like "ah yes this is a Prophet of God" and Tristan would clock that in an instant, and especially since Aeryn's best skill seems to be killing the shit out of whatever happens to be in front of him. Tristan would take one look at an incredibly dedicated, very capable, very stabby man and go "perfect, mine now." (And from what I understand Aeryn would be pretty into that...)

Images of the terrible boy are forthcoming, I need to make him in the CC and get some screenshots. For posterity.

[hawkezone]

THE SEAT OF POWER: PT 2

In the wake of Fen'Harel's escape, former Inquisitor Angus Trevelyan handles his transition from being Ostwick's most finicky and least eligible bachelor to being on the arm of Minrathous's finest; while juggling the beginnings of an elven rebellion. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, Part Two.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2] [3] [4]

♕

Chapter Two: Letters from Varric

“Broody.

I know you’re going to kill me when you get this, so be patient and maybe don’t go all out on that tear my heart out thing until you hear the whole story.

First off, Hawke is fine. I know you’re going to ask, so I’ll try to give you a play by play of how everything went over in Adamant Keep. Yes, Adamant. Wardens. Again, please reserve your murder of me for later.

You haven’t met Lucky, but he’s the Inquisitor. Nice guy. Real fancy type. You would hate him. Least of all because his paramour is an actual mage from Tevinter. No, not a magister. Not yet, anyway. He’s very insistent about that. They’re a good bunch, though. I imagine you’ll find that hard to believe.

This next part is the part you’re going to murder me for, so brace yourself. Apparently, in the heat of trying to chase down Warden-Commander Clarel, Lucky here tore open a passageway straight between our world and the Fade and - I shit you not - ended up walking bodily in the Fade itself. One of his lucky passengers was your man Chuckles, although he wasn’t too happy about it at the time.

You’re not going to believe this next part, but the thing that pulled Lucky out of the Fade in the first place, when he got saved from the Breach? The Divine Justinia herself, according to eye witness accounts. She couldn't save us in the end, though. Not from the giant thing that split the sky open and tried to keep us from leaving.

Your man tried to play the hero - or should I say, Champion - to distract the giant thing for long enough for the rest of us to scramble out of the Breach. I know, I know, if I’d have been there I would’ve thrown him through the Breach to stop him myself. You’ll be happy to know that Stroud took that last stand - and it was heroic by all accounts, from what Chuckles tells me. A real noble death for a real, noble Grey Warden. I guess Hawke was right about leaving without telling you, though - you two would have squabbled to the death over who gets to sacrifice themselves for who until you dissolved into a teary-eyed mess of sorrow and dramatic lingering kisses. We call you Broody for a reason, you know.

So the Warden trail doesn’t stop there, right? Hawke is en route to Weisshaupt, right as I’m penning this missive, which means that he should be there right about when you’re receiving it. He says he’s worried about you following him because he’s not sure about putting you in the eyeline of Corypheus, but you deserve to know. What you do with that is up to you. I’m guessing you two had a long, measured, very logical talk about what to do in this eventuality, and it wasn’t just a yelling match followed by several hours of slow yet tender lovemaking before Hawke disappeared in the middle of the night with a letter detailing how he would lay down his life for you and pine away every night in the absence of your presence. I assume. Liberties were taken.

He really would die for you, you know. And I can’t stop you from going to Weisshaupt. Just make sure you two keep each other alive instead of burning up in each other’s arms, okay?

See you there. When this is over. Or sooner.

Your friend,

Varric.”

Scanning the last few lines again - and again, and again - Fenris’s eyes grew wide. He could scarcely believe the gall of Varric to let Hawke wander headfirst into danger again. Taking the letter - and the heavy string and seal that came with it, and the inkpot next to the receiving desk, and the quill for good measure - Fenris slammed the stuff against the wall in an angry gesture of pure destruction, letting out an exasperated howl. The people downstairs, he had hoped, were used to some occasional angry screaming by now; the things Varric had sent in his letters hadn’t exactly been non-screaming material.

As the ink blotted downwards through the wood onto the straw-matted floor, Fenris sighed, and picked up the letter again. Weisshaupt. But of course Varric had intended for him to follow Hawke, all along; he wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise. The dwarf, though one could argue he was sentimental, wasn’t so much so as to put his best friend in danger. Hawke, it was evident, needed him. And Varric was saying as much, in his way. No doubt the Lady Nightingale was reading each of his every word.

He was already furious with Hawke for stealing away in the night, though he knew why he had done so - they had, indeed, had a bombastically loud screaming match the night before he had slipped off to Skyhold, wherein Hawke refused to tell him where he had been summoned - by the dread Inquisition, no less - and, worst of all, why. For his safety, Hawke had said, and Fenris had never accepted Hawke placing his life above his own. It was true, though. Had he known where Hawke had gone, and where he would go, he would have gone with him, or, worse, tried to stop him from going. Hawke was never one to be stopped, though, and that was one of the things Fenris loved most dearly about him.

Nobody could have guessed that Hawke would end up physically walking in the Fade, however - Maker, but that would drive a man mad. Fenris, despite himself being still rather a bit mad at Hawke, crumpled the remains of the ink-splattered letter in his hand, wondering if Hawke was all right. To simply touch him and make sure he was whole again - that was worth everything in the world.

It wasn’t a matter on the table, then, it was decided: He was off to Weisshaupt. Once he was done being absolutely furious at both Varric and Hawke.

This was going to take a while.

-

“Aveline.

First things first. Is it true that Choir Boy led an army of Starkhaven crusaders in a misguided attempt to annex Kirkwall? In service of his feelings about Blondie? I don’t like the guy much either, but you know that’s an overstatement. Feels good to know you beat him back, though. Curly gave me the report. I’m proud of you. I bet you get that a lot, though.

How’s Donnic? You think I’m prying for inspiration, but I hope you two are doing all right. []”

-

“Dear Sunshine,

Your brother is fine, and he says hello. There! No need to worry.

Just kidding. I know you’ll have a million and one questions about what happened since I left you in Tantervale. How are Aveline and Donnic, by the way? If you get anything juicy pried out of her next time she visits, send it to me. No real secrets, though, just maybe enough spice to pepper into the next issue of Swords and Shields.

You’ve probably figured out Hawke was on his way to rendezvous with the Inquisition, and you’d be right. Don’t worry, I’ve been with him the entire time. He’s safe, and on his way to the next part of this whole twisted mystery. I let Fenris know where he went so they can keep each other company. Maybe mow down a few darkspawn and Red Templars along the way.

Apropos of nothing, you might want to consider taking an elongated vacation to the ancient Grey Warden fortress of Weisshaupt in the Anderfel Mountains sometime during the next few months. Maybe something of familial interest there.

Send my regards to the others in the Circle. Or what’s left of it, anyway.

Stay safe, and see you soon,

Your friend,

Varric.”

Bethany clutched the letter to her chest, and sighed wistfully out the window. The cold of the tower she had been staying in, with Aveline and Donnic’s occasional company when they rode up from Kirkwall, had been especially fraught these last few days, but she was well and truly glad to hear from Varric.

Taking a piece of bread and whipped, sweetcream butter from a tablet by her bedside, Bethany chewed thoughtfully, squinting at the sun rising beyond the walls of Tantervale. She was happy her brother was all right - after all this time, he was still truly her best friend, as they had been since birth. Together, they had weathered so much - the death of their father, brother, and then mother; the reuniting of their uncle with the rest of their family, and the ascent in reclaiming the Hawke name as one to be truly proud of. Though she knew he was out doing important business, he’d always be her brother, and he’d always be thinking of her. It made Bethany feel safe, in a way. They would always have each other - Bethany was sure of it, and, for once, she felt the fabric of the world agree with her. Nothing would tear them apart - though Hawke’s insistence on trying to fix all of Thedas’s problems might tear him apart physically, away from this life.

-

[cortexreaver]

apparently i wrote this in november i assume i never posted it because 1. it was stupid 2. drafts temporarily ate it thus 3. i forgot. it's probably an unfinished list of half-formed thoughts i dont remember what most of it says anyway end preface start post:

in the approximate month since i first played it ive apparently spent around 218 hours blocking out the horrors with dragon age inquisition at the time of starting to write this post. so heres my review but not really these are just #thoughts about an 8-year-old video game. this got out of control i need it out of my drafts but at this point i dont want to just delete it. longest fucking post ive ever written anywhere under the cut

initial + overall thoughts: i had low expectations and when i started out and the character creator sliders were different and the combat was different and the skill trees were sideways and you couldnt manually distribute your attributes and everything was hd realistic shiny raytrace 4k particle physics like youve never seent hem before and so on and so forth my kneejerk reaction having just played dao: awakening was "this feels weird, i'm gonna hate this." and there were a lot of things i didn't like about it but there were things i thought i wouldn't like that i ended up enjoying. the former was mainly plot and lore stuff and some gameplay mechanics and the latter was individual writing of many characters and level design and, most surprisingly, crafting (i liked the masterwork material stuff)

THOUGHTS ON PLOT: as stated above i thought it was some silly shit but i'm gonna keep it vague because zeroing in on each point i had issues with or just thought was lame would make this post even longer than it's going to be. so like the thing is i thought the game before this one was also fucking stupid however da2 got a pass from me because, in addition to it being produced in a time frame far too narrow for what it was supposed to be, it's all SO melodramatic and half-baked and so many things go nightmarishly wrong for hawke and pals that it loops around to being fun. inquisition i assume is also supposed to be an emotional rollercoaster but nothing really hit for me like some parts of da2 did. obviously that in itself isn't a bad thing, and it could partly be a me problem. hold that thought and peruse two paragraphs of rambling that i don't want to cut out but would fit even worse if tacked them on the end of this section.

one big thing i noticed is that inquisition feels less concerned with your character's background and their personal journey over the course of the game. i realize i'm not alone in this sentiment but that's the consequence of playing a game 8 years late. at times it was hard to pin down exactly why my inquisitor felt so flat compared to to my wardens and hawkes, but—when it wasn't a majority of the voice lines being read in almost the exact same cadence—i think it had something to do with the fact that the game starts with its focus on introducing the first big universal threat rather than introducing you to your character. your background is a short paragraph on the character creation screen and it gets referenced a few times for light flavor and if/when people are being racist towards you (i played as an elf) (i have thoughts on how odd playing this game as a dalish elf felt but nothing that hasn't been said before by pretty much every other person who's played as an elf)

in contrast origins has its backgrounds that each set a distinct tone and serve as introductions to various aspects of the da universe as well as giving context for how your character became a grey warden while leaving enough blanks for you to feel in control of your character's personality; similarly, da2's entire first two acts detail how a guy with nothing but a magnetic personality and the power of These Hands* became so respected by the freak shits running the city he fled to from his plague-ridden homeland that they turned to him to resolve their nuclear slapfight. in inquisition you're a pariah for the first like five minutes and then everyone realizes your special hand makes you the only person capable of fixing everything and after passing out from the power of your own earthshattering swag you awake to find yourself effectively in charge of an organization devoted to being heroic. life hack i guess

*not to be confused with inquisition's The Hand

inquisition's main theme, i think, was the past; looking at the past and its inhabitants for what they really were, even when the truth challenges one's beliefs. it's a clash between the past and the present for control of the future. the inquisition unwaveringly pushes towards the future even if it means discarding the past; the main villain, literally one of the guys whose foolery and fuckery spawned the chantry's canticle about evil mages walking into god's house and trashing it, is a walking relic of the past and he clings to it even as he's losing, crying out for The Old Gods to save him as you strike the final blow. you wage war on his supporters, you find the cracks in his armor, you kill his lame ass dragon because that's the only way to ensure he's dead for real this time or some shit, you kill him, you kill the past. it's a fitting theme for a game that strays so far from its prequels in almost every aspect to have woven into it.

near the end i took a break to finally play origins' witch hunt dlc and realized that that was where the concepts of fade rifts and eluvians and morrigan having mysterious motives were first established which provided context for parts of inquisition that i previously thought had been pulled out of someone's ass. 99% my bad for assuming a dlc wouldn't contain seeds of main plot points given that inquisition's main villain is the jokester from da2's legacy dlc but arguably 1% not my bad because my assumption was based on the amount of shit from origins that either didn't matter later in the series or underwent changes so drastic they bordered on retcon.

i thought it was funny that the mage-templar conflict that was built up over the course of the first two games escalated off-screen to a war that you personally ended in main story mission 3 of 10 (11 counting the trespasser dlc) and then the chodester whose shit you kicked in in legacy shows up and yoinks the spotlight. sure legacy ends with the implication that you haven't seen the last of his funny ass but if i hadn't already spoiled his role in inquisition for myself i would've been like no way it's this guy again you are shitting me. there's another bigger villain after this one right? but no it's just him and his pet dragon and then your shiftiest companion who is definitely a mortal being steals morrigan's "i have...... plans. goodbye my friend" bit except with more of a lore dump because he physically can't shut the fuck up. also objectively funny that you can have your character become convinced that they have indeed been sent by god to build a paramilitary force so powerful it starts freaking people out. the only thing that can stop a bad guy with a cult is a good guy with a cult

OTHER WRITING THOUGHTS jesus fucking christ this post is long: i liked a lot of the writing on an individual character basis. i had warmed up to pretty much every companion i wasn't big on by the end of the game, i think because i took the time to chat with them when given the option to and did everyone's personal quests. they all have at least one moment where it becomes clear why they are the way they are, what experiences have shaped their values and worldview and personality. i did not like that the wardens were fully turned into another dumb asshole brigade which is another thing that started in legacy that i wouldn't have expected to continue in a main installment, in this case because iirc the wardens trying to summon a darkspawnimation whatever the fuck in legacy were just some fringe weirdos in the desert? maybe i'm remembering wrong. anyway yeah remember when the wardens were scapegoats in origins well this time they're bad for real* to fuckin uhhh make a point about how anyone can become corrupted or something idk you can still collect grey warden decorations for your nice guys inc. headquarters though and nobody gives a shit

*"what about the time those fereldan wardens tried to overthrow king arland in 7:5 storm" not my prablem

THOUGHTS ON LEVEL DESIGN AND VISUALS: uh i wasn't expecting this game to be so big for some reason and by the time i finished i was a little over it but initially i was pleasantly surprised that there was still more to see wherever i was and excited to explore it all. aside from one cave in the storm coast where my party would get stuck in a corner and some rare (completely optional) pure platforming that was placed in the game by devils to taunt completionist dickheads like me every area is laid out really well

[inyourfantasyfanfics]

Hello! I hope you are well! may I request first kiss with varric from dragon age if you write for him? Or any romantic headcanons for him, anything would be wonderful. i rlly like how you wrote about solas btw💖

First Kiss, Varric x GN Reader (Inquisitor)

I'm so sorry about the wait on this I'm just getting around to finishing my requests again, I'm on winter break for college so things will come out more often anyway oh lordy okay so this was VERY self indulgent for me...

Neither of you expected it to happen, both of you were too afraid to ever take this step. Hidden away emotions, all the accidental glances none of it was ever supposed to amount to anything… or so that's what you both thought

It was a particularly rough day or week, month, months. If you were honest it was always rough being the inquisitor. Yet, there are always things that make the day better. Like your loyal friends and one in imparticular could make your year with a simple joke. And his jokes were in no short supply.

You and Varric were the only ones left after a little get together with the council, both still a little too energized from the former events that left you guys still chatting

At some point, the conversation turn into a more personal one where you were both leaning in and giggling like two schoolyard kids sharing gossip.

He of course avoided conversation about Bianca at any given moment but seemed all the more interested in your love life.

Everything was fun and you could almost taste the flirtatious undertones of the conversation until you both noticed simultaneously that your faces were mere centimeters away from each other

It felt like time stopped and anything that was said or would have been floated away the same as both parties’ better judgment.

Neither of you knew who closed the gap or if you both did but the kiss was like taking a breath after holding it for so long. It was sweet and chaste at first but it was not short.

Suddenly it deepened and both were all too aware of the feeling they have been pushing down still so afraid of what will happen after you both separated… so you don't.

Eventually, Varric was the one to work up the courage and pull away. He mutters an apology, tries to blame alcohol, anything to make the sudden burst of emotionless than what it was.

“Oh maker, did that happen? Great prank Inquisitor” or “Maybe I will use that as inspiration for my next novel”

It will take you laughing at him and perhaps taking his hand that he gives up the fight and just accepts that you both cant keep up the facades anymore.

[smallblueandloud]

okay, time for some reva headcanons!

she takes some time for herself after the events of kenobi, traveling the galaxy, trying to keep a low profile. she learns and learns and learns on every planet she visits -- how the people there live, how they suffer, and eventually, how they survive. as she starts to learn which planets are safer, people start to trust her with information. one day, she ends up on a transport with a family with two force-sensistive children who are on the run.

she's managed to keep a low profile so far. no one who's ever sheltered her has ever realized that she used to be an inquisitor, and she relishes the freedom that gives her. but when their ship is stopped and she locks eyes with the parent of the two kids, whose dread is so strong it feels like her own, she realizes what she has to do, and uses her knowledge of how the empire works to get the patrol to leave them alone.

after that, she realizes luke wasn't a fluke -- she can't live in a galaxy where children (jedi children) are killed. she refuses to live in a galaxy where children are killed.

she joins the path. she keeps in contact with the parent of those two children and teaches the kids a little bit of meditation while they're still in the same area. she was never really trained as a pilot, and she's frankly done with fighting, but her knowledge of the empire is good and her instincts are better, so she spends a lot of time riding transports or greeting people at spaceports to get them through the most dangerous part of an escape -- the gap between a ship and a safehouse.

(that is, after all, where she caught leia.)

she rediscovers gardening. she used to love the gardens in the jedi temple when she was young, and she finds that caring for plants slowly draws her force senses out of their desperately-hidden crevices. she starts to see the force as the light in other people again, instead of something that can only be used for violence lest vader would figure her out.

whenever she's set to go on a transport, she brings plants with her -- small ones, in pots, that grow either fruits or flowers. she loves, loves the look on kids' faces when they taste a fresh-picked tomato. parents look at her with gratitude, and she doesn't deserve it, but... maybe one day she will.

the path starts to merge with scattered other organizations, growing into something that will one day be called the rebellion. she still doesn't want to fight, but as a force-sensitive and a well-known strategist, she gets invited to meetings anyway. roken knows of her past, of course, but as (oftentimes!) the only other representative of the path in the room, he keeps her secret.

she runs into bail organa a few times -- "oh, a former jedi? that's-- that's nice" -- and oscillates wildly between wanting to break down crying (to beg forgiveness) and wanting to burst out laughing (because this guy so clearly wants to give her obi-wan's contact information, as if she doesn't know he's alive). generally, she tries to release her feelings into the force and opts for a joke instead.

it takes her six years to meet one of the few other force-sensitives the rebellion has, and when she realizes "the fulcrum" is actually ahoska tano, the padewan she (and every other kid her age) worshiped, she finds herself grinning. ahoska actually recognizes her, which makes her feel a little guilty but mostly just so, so happy to see someone, anyone else who understands where she's come from.

it takes them several months to discuss anakin. she knows from the way bail greets ahsoka that she at least knows of luke's existence, but they still dance around the subject of obi-wan and why he isn't with the rebellion -- reva hasn't told a soul anything that happened on tatooine in six years and she won't start now. but she at least could tell ahsoka about what she did with the inquisitors, why she did it, how she failed. ahoska doesn't even hesitate, just tells her, "i can't blame you for trying. as far as i'm concerned, as far as the force is concerned, what you've done -- you are good. you have been doing good."

when she sees the look on reva's face, she softens. "i forgive you," she says, and hugs her.

(eventually, she'll run into luke skywalker, fresh off the destruction of the death star. he looks at her without recognition, cheerfully introduces himself, and she says, "i think i met your uncle and aunt on tatooine once, when i met obi-wan there. owen and-- beru?" his face falls as he says, "they were killed by the empire." she reaches out to touch his cheek. "i'm so sorry to hear that," she says, sincere enough that even she's surprised, and then she says, "i didn't know them for long, but i knew they loved you." his small smile feels like healing, feels like forgiveness, feels like a flower blooming in the cold deep blackness of space)

[hollyand-writes]

Demands Of The Qun Exchange initial recs (i.e. my gifts!)

I honestly received so many great Qunari gifts (4 gifts!!! 😍 I feel so loved, thanks guys!) from the inaugural @demands-of-the-qun​ exchange that I was the embodiment of this gif when work reveals happened and I got to see them: 

(Happy Arishok gif courtesy of bampire on DeviantArt.) 

I, too, felt like I’d just received the long-awaited and much-treasured Tome of Koslun 😂  So I am about to recommend my four (currently still anonymous) gifts here! 🥰 

Stand by you (Rated General, F!Adaar/Josephine, fanart): 

This beautiful artwork features a Female Qunari Inquisitor, Kida Adaar, having a quiet tender moment with Josephine Montilyet in the War Room before returning to their duties. I worked out who drew this one and won’t name them (creator reveals are on Monday anyway, so you’ll all find out then), but I really want to thank them for this very sweet drawing of the one DA:I pairing I ship! 

The following fics are all EXPLICIT and therefore being put under the cut. Please mind the tags and warnings. 

I also received the following 3 smut-fics: 

Dangerous Things (Merrill/Maraas, Rated E, 1,800 words): 

Summary: Left on her own in Kirkwall for years after betraying Hawke in the Fade, Merrill has come to rely on a mercenary with curiously reasonable rates. Now that the two have fought a demon and her clan to find a way to fix the eluvian, it seems even he is having second thoughts about her. 

All for a Friend (Arishok/Merrill, Rated E, 2,351 words): 

Summary: Merrill approaches the Arishok with an offer he can't refuse: her sexy services for a year in exchange for destroying Isabela’s former employers. She's starting to wonder if she got the better end of the deal. 

Also features voyeurism (from the rest of the Qunari in the Compound), and the use of a wooden phallus. 

A horny predicament (Arishok/Merrill/Qunari, Rated E, 4,069 words): 

PLEASE MIND THE TAGS AND WARNINGS ON THIS ONE. See below. 

Summary: Merrill gets lost one night in Kirkwall, finding herself in the Qunari Compound. Little did she know that they’ve waited for someone that can take the tension out of the Arishok’s men... and the Arishok himself. 

Tags/warnings on this fic as follows: 

[merrilldidnothingwrong]

An idea I have for my version of DAII. There are two sets of Hawke twins and all four of them survive. (Original, I know) However, when Bethany is taken to the Circle, Garrett joins Carver in the Templars to keep an eye on her. But here's the catch, Garrett is also a mage. So he has to keep his true nature on the downlow for years, which causes him a lot of stress. To the point that he has grey temples when Anders blows up the Chantry, something Garrett had helped with by telling Anders what time there would be the least amount of people inside of it. His first hand experience fed his anger of the Chantry and Templars' treatment of mages, so he was more than happy to help Anders start the rebellion. However, during his time there, he and Carver make a helpful discovery. If a mage takes lyrium like a Templar, it not only makes their spells much more powerful, (Think the effect of Sozin's Comet on fire-benders) makes them extremely resistant to the abilities of Templars. To the point that it would take roughly 250 of them to fully cancel on of them out. This knowledge wouldn't necessarily be new. Both Tevinter and the Chantry are aware of it. The former's mages use it all the time instead of their Templars, and is the reason why Tevinter mages pose such a threat to southern Thedas' Templar forces. While the latter has the information be a tightly kept secret that is never allowed to in the Circles in written or oral form. I feel this would be a good explanation why the mages in Hawke's group are able to combat Templars no issue. That and the fact Anders helped train them to be Arcane Warriors. Obviously, Garrett and Carver will suffer from withdrawal once they leave Kirkwall, since they were taking the substance for four years straight.

Thoughts?

i both love it and hate it tbh

its a great idea story wise, i love all the siblings being alive. i just really, really hate the templars. but if anyone can join a group that brainwashes people, and resist it, its hawke. i do like the idea of an "inside man", and spying on them, the leaders meredith / elthina and especially cullen

one of the downfalls is that it would be (moreso) triggering for anders, having a templar friend / love interest

but it makes sense that hawke would be a mage and they would'nt notice, bc they are incompetent and hawke is just that smooth lmao

and i also love THIS hawke being at skyhold. it would make such an improvement for inquisition (which imho is the worst DA game). anyway it would set up a great "templars are the bad guys, actually", and cullen SHOULD be judged by the inquisitor and NOT be the leader of the forces. get rid of that alleged "both sides are bad, actually" centrism which i despise

but yeah its mostly a great story, if you have a fic or more to add i'd be interested! (admin jesse)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XIII

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence, trauma, allusions to torture, mentions of suicide.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You struggle with the past, present, and future.

Note: So now that the holiday rush is over and my province is in lockdown, I can write so yay? But also, stress anew hahaha. Anyways, I’m enjoying it so it’s not too bad. :D

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your stomach curdled as you walked between the guards. For whatever foolish reason, you’d assumed Loki would accompany you. And even more foolish, you were disappointed when he did not. He was king and had much more pressing matters; his usual excuse. As true as it was, you were still irked by your task.

Your thick winter wool had been replaced by your former satin. The gown was not so sultry as before but it offered little protection against the chill of the palace corridors. You were allowed a cape woven in the king’s green, though the hood was to be kept up until you reached your destination. As before, you were the royal shame.

The further you descended, the more your nerves stormed. You remembered your first journey to the dungeons; the night felt long ago. Like many of your memories, it had faded since your time with the prince and his heartless accomplice. It was fragments but still sent a shiver through you. You could, at least, recall, the fear, the anger, the helplessness of your time in the capital.

Your slippers whispered over the stone floor as the gaoler showed you past the cell doors. The stink of unwashed bodies mingled with that of stale blood. There were coughs, some murmuring, and the occasional maddened shout from down the row. The cell you’d been left to was empty and open as you strode by and you refused to look within. It was at the next, that you were stopped and the thick key was shoved in the slot.

You touched your stomach, a thoughtless habit forming as each day saw you a little rounder. Your middle could still be hidden beneath loose fabric. Birger said not yet halfway through your time; maybe for months and with over a month of deprivation, you weren’t so big as you could be.

The door opened and the shriek of the hinges made you tremor. One prison to the next. You were no different than those locked behind these doors. You were kept and controlled. You had no voice, no will, no wants. You only did what was needed to survive.

One of the guards entered first as the gaoler stood with arms crossed beside the door. You heard a scramble within and you were ushered through by the other armored man. He grabbed a stool from against the far wall before he followed. You pushed your hood down and closed the cloak around your body as the frigid air nipped at your gown.

Gilla was dragged away from the wall where she huddled. She didn’t struggle as the guard brought her to sit at the center of the cell and the other planted the stool behind you. You sat and your hand dropped away from your stomach. Her hair was dirty and her face smeared with tears and grime. She was terrified and sniffled quietly as she blinked away the fog of her imprisonment. Your name on her brittle lips made your heart knot.

You recalled what Loki said and cleared your throat. This girl was not your friend.

“Gilla,” you said flatly.

“Have you come to save me?” She clutched her hands. “They found you! Oh, I’m so happy you’re safe--”

“And do you know who took me away?” You challenged. She shook her head in confusion. “So the man you sold yourself to never mentioned me. You never spoke in those times he came to you? Were you so easy to roll over to him?”

“The prince? Oh, if you send for him, surely he can get me out--” 

“Do you have no idea why you’re here?” You sneered, “Even if the prince could, do you think he would save a peasant?”

“The king… the king took you from the dungeons…” she batted her lashes.

“He did and what did he make of me but a prisoner elsewhere,” you looked away from her.

“I don’t… understand,” she lowered her chin. “I don’t know why they’ve brought me here.”

“Well, you best think on it and figure it out. The prince cannot help you for he is a criminal himself.” You looked down at her. How had that little girl you’d grown up with become this? How had you come to this point? “He plotted against the king, surely you must’ve known.”

“How could I?” She babbled as her tears began to fall. “He never spoke to me of such things. He only wanted… love.”

“Love?” You scoffed and stopped yourself from laughing at her naivety. “Do you truly believe these noble men could feel anything for us but the basest desires? That their favour is little more than fodder for their egos? That they delight in our degradation rather than our pleasure?”

“Thor was always kind--”

“Thor used you.” You insisted. A lump rose in your throat. “As he did me. He… as he gave you jewels you have no use for, he got his use off me. He would have worn me until I was dead.” You inhaled and quelled the flurry of emotion inside. “But you never truly cared for more than your own self, eh?”

“What? I… we’re friends.”

“Are we?” You bit down. “I remember my time down here.” You looked around. “I remember how I was even dumber than you. To have begged the king to spare me. You left me behind that night and I was locked up like some animal. Whipped like some braying donkey.” Your mouth was bitter as you spoke, “Bred like a mutt. And when you saw me, still alive, what could think of but the silks and the gold and the crown?”

“I didn’t--”

“You must’ve been so worried for me to have fallen into the prince’s arm’s so easily,” You snorted.

“We all thought you’d run.” She squeaked.

“Oh? Yes then, I suppose it was easy to forget about me.”

“I never did. I…”

“This is the last favour you will have from me, Gilla.” You declared. “And I pray you are smart enough to accept it.”

She blinked, confused, and quivered as she stared back at you.

“Do not lean on your ignorance. The prince is a traitor and you laid with him. Who would believe that in all your time together, he never mentioned his intent against his brother?”

“He didn’t--”

“Listen to me.” You hissed. “The prince will be brought to trial for his crimes, but a whore like you can be cast away and forgotten by all. If you did abet him in his offenses, you will be dealt a cold steely justice. You will not be afforded the same hearing or the same grace as his highness. You are just another commoner fed to the jaws of the rich and their squabbles.”

“But I don’t know anything.”

“Think. Hard.” You stood as you snarled, “And perhaps by the time the inquisitors come to you, you will recall.”

“But--But I--”

“If it had been you that night, I wouldn’t have left you behind. Even if it was your stupidity which led us to trespass. I would have stuck by you.” Your chest tightened as you spoke, “I wouldn’t have abandoned you but I realise now, Gilla, that you never did care for anybody but you.”

“I love you, I do.” She pleaded.

“No,” you uttered, “I don’t think you do, but I did love you, my friend.”

“Please…” She sobbed.

“I will not see you again, I expect,” you said as the guard retrieved the stool, “So let us part without hatred. Take this last generosity from me and save yourself. Perhaps you might live to learn from it.”

“I didn’t know he… I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you,” you backed away. “You’re not sorry for me, only sorry for yourself.” You turned and bent your head. “Goodbye, Gilla.”

You strode through the door and the guards followed, signaling the gaoler to lock up behind them. You raised your hand and bit into your knuckle as you were overcome with despair. Your old life was over. The last remnant of your former existence was extinguished. 

It was your final surrender. You belonged to the king completely. Your body, your mind, your child; every part of you was his.

🐍 

You returned to the chambers exhausted. Those days, you were always tired. You hung your cloak and stood by the fire to warm your numb fingertips. You undressed quietly and retired to the bedchamber. You sat in your shift before the hearth and watched the embers beneath the tent of logs.

You thought of the baker’s daughter and that first day you’d met her. She had been sweet, once. When had she grown so… greedy? How could one raised in simplicity come to want what she had never known? You closed your eyes and refused to cry. She would not break you; if nothing else had, she could not.

You floated in a haze as the orange glow of the fire shone against your eyelids. There was much yet to worry for. Would the king’s men arrest the prince before he could evade them? Would the kingdom overcome the rent caused by the royal siblings? Would your child survive the months before you?

Hours passed and you did not move. You stayed as you were, held by the moment. A taste of solace you hadn’t known in ages. No anxiety of your tormentors’ return, no fear of what was to happen in the next instant. It was just you and the hearth; you and your child in what could be the only peace you had together.

When at last you were disturbed by the gentle open and close of the door in the next chamber, you still remained. You listened to the king as he moved around and sensed his shadow as he appeared in the door frame behind you. He was quiet as he neared.

He said nothing, as if he believed you were asleep. You knew he didn’t but he let you think so. You listened to the rustle of his clothing as he shed each layer. As stubborn as he was, as much as he insisted nothing had changed, something had. You were both afraid of it but would not admit it.

You felt a tug at the bottom of the blanket spread over your legs. You tried to ignore it, thinking perhaps he had passed too closely. A rush of air flew up below the wool Loki’s fingertips tickled your ankle. You opened your eyes and looked down at him as he reached below your shift.

“Your majesty,” you yawned and shifted but he caught your knees and kept them apart. “What--”

He hushed you with a soft his and dipped his head below the blanket. You braced the arms of the chair as your body went rigid. He wore only his undershorts as he bent and plied kisses to your thighs in a torturous trail towards your pelvis. You grasped his head as he rolled your shift higher and higher and his breath grazed your cunt.

“My king,” you begged. You were trembling. You knew you could not stop him.

He ignored you still and kneaded your thighs as he pushed closer. His hands slid up your sides as he nuzzled the patch of hair between your legs and you gasped. You weren’t ready. You never truly were. His tongue surprised you as it flicked along your folds and he purred. He cupped your tender breasts as he delved into you, your core alight at his command.

He dragged his tongue along your bud and lingered on it, teasing it with small swirls and hungry suckles. Your arms flew back to grip the back of the chair and he rubbed his thumbs over your nipples as they stood out beneath your shift. He groaned as he lapped you up. His gentleness was disarming though he remained as adamant as ever.

“Please,” you begged as your body responded against your want. “Please…”

He purred and kept on, his head moving against your bunched up skirt and bobbing beneath the blanket. You arched in your seat, unable to resist the bloom deep inside. You felt the release and suddenly you needed it. All your stress, all your fear, anger, and hurt, bundled up and brewed inside you as ecstasy muted them.

You cried out as every muscle in your body tensed and eased in a split second. You moved your pelvis against Loki’s mouth as you rode out your climax and he didn’t relent until you were limp and breathless. He sat back on his heels and let the blanket drop to your feet. His hair was tangled and askew, his lips glistening as he grinned at you.

He rested his hands on your thighs and came closer so that he leaned against the front of the chair.

“My brother has been arrested,” he said. 

Your lashes fluttered and you nodded, speechless. He bent and the tip of his long nose met your stomach. He slid his arms to hug you as he turned and pressed his ear to your middle. You froze as you watched him, as if he was listening for the stirring of his child. You were startled by his tameness. He kissed your stomach as he drew back to look at you again.

“I need you.” He murmured, “I ache. Badly.”

You felt the stone set in your skull. Ever as you were, his plaything. You knew his meaning; it never differed. And he never asked, only demanded, 

He took your hand and stood. He pulled you up and you let him. You hadn’t the strength to deny him. There was no denying him. You didn’t want that Loki; cold and callous. So you would cede to his needs and hope they were met quickly.

He let you go as you neared the bed. He rolled down his shorts and his desire stood up before him. He lowered himself across the mattress and beckoned to you. You lowered your eyes and chewed your lip to keep from showing the turmoil raging inside you. You lifted your shift over your head and dropped it. 

He guided you over him and stroked his cock as he did. He pressed his tip along your folds, his hand on your hip as he urged you down. You sank to his hilt and he sighed. He stilled you and looked at the joining of your bodies. The silence enshrined you and you closed your eyes. He took your hands and placed them on his chest.

He gripped your waist and moved you atop him. Slowly so that your clit rubbed against him. You hated how good it felt, hated that you couldn’t stop, hated that he was being so… nice. You dug your nails into his flesh and sped up. He held you tighter and forced you to slow. You grunted and opened your eyes, frowning down at him.

“No,” he spoke at last, “Not like that.”

You shook your head. When had he ever wanted anything but hard, fast pleasure. You pulled your hands from him and he forced them back as they were. You struggled with him for only a moment as he squeezed your wrists in warning.

“Slow,” he bid as he stared into your eyes. 

His hands returned to your sides and he rocked you again. You shuttered as the tide began to roll inside of you, swelling as it grew. You moaned as you began to quake. Loki’s deliberate stride had you confused. His pace matched your pleasure, quickening only as your voice rose louder.

You came again. You twitched atop him and he moved you as your wits left you entirely. His own voice filled your ears and his thick breaths intermingled with his lurid groans. His hand snaked around to your back and the other spread over your stomach. He stilled you and tilted his hips into you over and over from below.

He exclaimed as his orgasm struck him and impaled you entirely. He slowed and eased you down against him. He embraced you as he laid you over his chest and cradled your head as his chin rested against your head. 

What was that? You wondered as your heart raced with his. His petered out but you couldn’t help as your mind struggled against your body.

When you calmed enough to move. His arms fell away and you parted from him, his seed spilling down your thighs. You fell back on the mattress, your flesh still buzzing. You couldn’t look at him. Why would he do that? Like that?

You were his whore, he’d told you time and again. You rolled onto your side, your back to him and crossed your arms. He ran his fingers along your spine.

“Are you unwell?” He asked.

You didn’t answer. Why would he even ask that? Your eyes tingled and you fought to hold back your tears. He was just torturing you. That’s all this was.

“Speak to me, mouse,” he grabbed your shoulder and forced you flat on your back.

You gritted your teeth and stared at the ceiling. “Why?”

“I was gentle…” He said, his voice tinged with confusion.

“Yes, why?” You repeated.

“I…” He paused and the silence was thick as it choked you.

“When your wife arrives, what will she think of me, your whore, and the bastard inside of me?” You spat. 

He sat up and leaned on his arm as he watched you. You refused to look at him.

“I’ll deal with my wife.” He said, “And I’ll deal with you. Don’t forget yourself, mouse.”

You scoffed and tried to turn away from him again. He held you down and let out a long breath. His hand came up to frame your face. “I am heartened, mouse, that you do remain so stubborn.”

🐍

Sleep did not come easy that night. Not to you. Loki was hardly bothered as he snored beside you. His arm was across you as if to remind you of his power over you. Your thoughts strayed back to all your worries. Gilla, Thor, the man beside you, the child in your stomach.

Your life was not your own. It had never been. As you thought, you realised you had only ever been used by others. You had only ever been a footnote to someone else’s will. You had nothing, not even your own body, your own mind.

You slowly slipped from beneath Loki’s arm. Your thighs were sticky still with his cum and you were sickened by the sensation. You stood and went to the bath chamber and cleaned yourself with the cold water of the basin. You saw yourself in the looking glass. You looked hollow; you felt it.

You went back to the bedroom and covered yourself with the silken robe allotted you. You bent, awkwardly, to feed a log to the ashes and stirred it until you found ember. As the flame began to lick at the pale bark, you stood with a groan and passed into the front chamber.

You wandered around the space; it was smaller than the king’s former residence. You neared the table placed against the wall and stared at the peculiar object left atop it. Careless, you thought as you pulled the leather-sheathed dagger towards you. Or deliberate?

Loki had a wife coming and brother to be tried. You were trouble for both. He was ever a trickster, ever deceptive, and perhaps, you had been dumb enough to believe him. Again. He didn’t want you back, didn’t want a bastard to muddy his inheritance; he’d only wanted a reason to be rid of Thor. Surely, he was so intent on keeping you hidden so that none would notice if you were gone.

Had you been foolish enough to think he felt anything towards you but the need to sate his own lust? That he had any loyalty to you beyond a warm cunt? That you had any place here once he married? That your child would be welcomed as anything but a nuisance?

You sat and freed the dagger from its cover. You held the blade up in the dim and felt its sharp edge with your fingertip. It sliced easily into your flesh. You turned it in your hand and thought of bringing it to your throat or plunging it deep in your chest. Your eyes welled and at last, the dam was broken.

You cried into your palm as your other hand gripped the dagger. You trembled and peered down at your stomach. Would he care? If he found you in a river of your own blood? It would be a favour to all. 

You wept until your eyes were swollen and your throat was hoarse. You were a coward. Why couldn’t you just do it? What did you have to live for?

“Mouse,” Loki’s voice was cautious. “What are you… give me the knife, mouse.”

You dropped the blade and flinched as it bounced between your feet. You shook your head and mopped up the last of your tears from your cheeks. Loki neared slowly and bent to lift the dagger. He took the sheath and replaced it on the silver. His jaw squared as you avoided his gaze.

“What were you thinking to do with this?” He growled.

“Nothing,” you croaked. “I was only curious.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He hissed. “Whatever you were thinking, I don’t want it to ever cross your mind again. Understood?”

You nodded and hung your head. He moved away from you and opened the chest atop the side table. He tossed the dagger within and locked it.

“I told you. It is treason to spill king’s blood.” He stomped back to you. “Death cannot save you from my wrath.”

“I didn’t--”

“You thought to.” He snarled. “Get up.”

“Your majesty--”

“I will not tell you twice.” He barked.

You stood and he seized your arm. He turned you and marched you back into the bedchamber. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and you expected him to tear open the robe. You expected the same as he had been. You were certain he would be atop you in an instant.

But he passed you and went to the cloak hung beside your own. He fished around the pocket sewn into the lining and took out a bundle. He returned to you and held out the folded linen, bound with a length of hide lace. You frowned and he dropped it into your lap.

“Go on,” he loomed over you.

Your hands shook and you pulled free the bow looped atop the bundle. You unfolded the linen and revealed a pair of green booties, winding snakes sewn into the soles and golden ribbons woven along the top. They were small, meant for an infant. You cradled them in your hands as your throat tightened.

“My mother sewed them,” he said. “I found them after she died. I had almost forgotten them before I moved from my own chambers.” He sat beside you heavily. “I don’t know what else to do with them.”

You peeked over at him. You lowered them back to the linen and set them aside. “They’re meant for a prince.” You muttered.

“No, only for my child,” he said, “Prince or no.” His cheek twitched and he stared at the carpet, “Don’t make me hide them again. I couldn’t bear it.”

You were quiet. You’d never seen him so vulnerable. Angry, annoyed, longing… but never so solemn. Despite all your loathing for him, your heart squeezed. You took his hand, he winced, but let you move it. You put it to your stomach.

“It is my child, too,” you said softly. “I couldn’t…”

He nodded and pressed his palm firmly to your midriff. You sat, silently, the crackle of the fire the only noise. Loki did not move, nor did you. A wordless pact forged between you. The child would live. It had to.

[agoddamn]

Kenobi time

>certain scenes in this fictional series may contain scenes upsetting to viewers

oh BOY

oh boy, time for the flashbacks to emotionally destroy fandom

that said, why AOTC-era over ROTS I wonder? Ewan's hairline is looking a little sad lmao they're both looking very 'trying so hard to pretend I'm twenty years younger'

oh, so here's all the people I was wondering exi--HAJA?!

how the FUCK is he alive????

plant?

anyway, what exactly are these people anyway? They seemed to imply that they were Force-sensitives, but there's a lot of them

so Reva didn't just toss a tracker on Lola, she totally reprogrammed her in the ~10 seconds she had grabbed her? I mean, sure, whatever

my saber recognition skills aren't what they used to be, but one of those things looks a bit like Mace Windu's to me?

even past!Obi-wan looks insanely rumpled lmao

this back thing is. weirdly sexual

general :] aww, he took the robe

Obi-wan: she SAID she wanted pickles

Roken has a wookie bowcaster

shakycam why

this is 6 eps long so I suppose we're coming up on the climax, right? Somehow it doesn't feel like it, I guess because every ep has a big dramatic fight sequence in it?

[Obi-wan catching up with what we all knew from ep 1]

does Anakin have his eye scar here? Something about his face looks weird

would be awfully nice if there were like, one grenade in this whole rebel cell

RIP Tala we hardly knew ye but you still lasted an ep longer than I was betting so good job

oh hey! I guess she had the only grenade

>hands cuffed in front

amateur move

"there are other ways to fight, like 4d psychological warfare"

cinematography guys went really extreme with the lightsaber reflected lighting; too hard, I think. How are they out here in full bright daylight and the saber is what's illuminating Anakin's face? They also still look way too saturated to me. Colored light doesn't look like this--the color of a colored light is paler than what's giving it off, always. The sabers in ANH are nearly white; the 100% saturation blue just doesn't look good

LMAO THAT WAS THE DECOY SHIP

...that was some mediocre-looking CQC, Obi-wan

we about to get choking?

underwhelming flashback fight. I thought the reveal there was gonna be Anakin using Force choke, not Obi-Wan pointing out that CQC exists

remember how I said that Reva was a proxy for Obi-wan to have the flashy Vader fights he couldn't? -spreads hands-

>helicopter music stops

you know, I think Reva should have gotten to be more unhinged. "I'll falseflag Vader" is a fucking insane plan and Reva thinking she can play at being a Sith without staining herself would have been great

>Grand Inquisitor, who is also a former Jedi, obsessed with calling Reva gutter trash

He's enough of a delusional dick that this is perfectly IC, but still

>Tala dies from one blaster wound to the stomach and Reva walks off lightsaber impalement

You know what, whatever

...okay, no, I'm sorry, tying the comic relief to the serious dramatic plot is a bad move and it's always gonna be a bad move. It was bad with Jar-Jar and it's bad here; the celebrity casting makes it feel even worse because Haja is clearly here to be comic relief and not a nuanced character. "Whoops Kumar dropped Obi-wan's phone, that rascal!" god please no

[persephoneggsy]

Rambling about Inquisitor Sebastian and his inner circle

Basically one of my favorite aspects of the Inky!Seb au is having him form strong friendships outside of the Kirkwall crew, especially since he always seemed like the outsider among them. To me it was very much “these are my girlfriend’s friends and I’ll make the effort to get along with them :)” not that a lot of them reciprocated the effort, Varric

But anyway, just some random thoughts on what Sebastian’s relationship is with the other members of the Inquisition (spoilers for DA:I below)

Cassandra: There’s a mutual respect there, and eventually he comes to view her as like an older sister. They share a common ground with their faith. I imagine she starts insisting he get better with close combat so she starts training him (with varying results). (aaaaand because she’s the most similar to my Hawke, in another world where Sebastian and Hawke never met, Cassandra could’ve been his love interest.)

Solas: Sebastian felt an immediate debt of gratitude towards him for saving his life after the Conclave, and refers to Solas as his foremost magical expert. He’s not 100% down with his… enthusiasm for the Fade and spirits, but he eases up after meeting and befriending Cole. Solas meanwhile admires Sebastian’s commitment to his faith, yet willingness to show curiosity about the world outside of it. When the truth about Solas comes out, he’s determined to try and save his former companion.

Vivienne: He very much respects her and often seeks her advice on many things, but mostly politics. In a way, she reminds him of his mother… not that he’d ever tell her that to her face. On Vivienne’s side, she’s utterly charmed by the delightful and savvy young prince.

Sera: She’s like the little sister he always wanted. She calls him Princey-Pants and other variations thereof. He likes that she’s blunt and unrepentant, and relies on her to keep himself and the rest of the Inquisition humble. For her part, she thinks he could relax more, but is delighted that he’s always down to pull some pranks. Sebastian radiates his chaotic littlest brother energy the most around Sera. 

Iron Bull: Sebastian’s a bit wary of the Qunari after what happened in Kirkwall, but Bull has been nothing but honest with him, so he gradually warms up to the big guy and asks him questions about the Qun. Bull thinks he’s a good guy, but maybe too idealistic. Sebastian gets along extremely well with the Chargers, too, so that’s another point in his favor as far as Bull’s concerned.

Blackwall: Being the Grey Warden fanboy he is, Sebastian was so excited to meet Blackwall. He accompanied Sebastian on a lot of the early missions, where they shared a warm and easy camaraderie. After the “Thom Rainier” revelation, Sebastian was deeply hurt. Ultimately he let Blackwall back into the Inquisition, but he was distant, if not outright cold to him. Blackwall, being the self-deprecating guy he is, totally understands and doesn’t push for forgiveness. Sebastian does eventually warm up to him again by the time Trespasser rolls around, but their friendship is never quite the same. 

Cole: Sebastian was EXTREMELY wary of Cole; if the spirit hadn’t saved his life at Therinfal Redoubt, he would’ve had a much harder time letting him join the Inquisition. But after spending some time together, he comes to see Cole as an awkward puppy of sorts, perhaps even a little brother. I imagine Cole brought up some memories of Sebastian’s family that ultimately helped Sebastian get over his survivor’s guilt, and as a result, he and Cole became closer. Would be cool if Cole could stop telling all of Skyhold all the rambly poetic thoughts he has about Hawke, though.

Dorian: Dorian is Sebastian’s best friend. Partially because I’m biased and love Dorian, but also I think they would genuinely get along. Both pariahs of their family, both have complicated relationships with their fathers and desperately wanted their approval, both are determined to do the right thing. Maybe there’s even a tiny crush on Dorian’s side, because Sebastian is both sweet and gorgeous. 

Varric: This one surprised Sebastian the most, but he and Varric actually grew very close during the fight against Corypheus. I’ve decided that my RedHawke rivaling Varric is my canon, so while Varric respected her, they weren’t exactly besties. His frustration with Sebastian was just residual annoyance from having to deal with Hawke, but once he gets to experience Sebastian Minus Hawke, he finds out he’s actually… not so bad. He’s exactly the kind of hero he’s always wanted to write about. After he apologizes for being such a dick in Kirkwall, they’re thick as thieves. He and Dorian have a (lighthearted) fight over who gets to be best man at Sebastian and Hawke’s (public) wedding. 

Cullen: They barely knew each other in Kirkwall, with Cullen really only knowing him as the “nicest” of Hawke’s merry band of misfits. Sebastian always liked him, and after the fight against Meredith, thought he was a model templar. After joining the Inquisition, they bond more closely over their shared stresses. Sometimes they both grab a drink with Varric to reminisce about their time in Kirkwall. 

Josephine: Sebastian finds her a calm and reassuring presence. Josephine, for her part, is pleased that the Inquisitor is not only of noble birth, but also royalty, which makes her job exponentially easier. He’s also charming and diplomatically-minded, so you can usually catch the two working together to sweet-talk whatever grandstanding noble is causing trouble for the Inquisition. Sebastian’s remarked that had the Vaels still lived and he wasn’t sent to the Chantry, his parents would’ve likely picked Josephine to be his wife. 

Leliana: Sebastian knew her from her earlier trip to Kirkwall back in DA2, so he was relieved to see another familiar face helping shape the Inquisition. Though she was a tad more… ruthless than he expected. Though she disagrees with his idealism and more than a few of his decisions, Sebastian ends up softening her.

and for funsies... in terms of who Sebastian is closest to it’s probably: Dorian > Varric > Blackwall (before Revelations) > Sera > Solas > Cullen > Cassandra > Iron Bull > Vivienne > Josephine > Leliana > Blackwall (after Revelations; he probably gets bumped back to around Cassandra/Bull’s level by Trespasser)

[capricious-and-melodramatic]

Sending Crystal

A quiet curse came from Dorians sending crystal. Luckily this time I was while he was in the study and not on the Magisterium floor. At least last time while he was on the floor, he was the only one who could hear it. Every time he would start his speech he tried so hard not to laugh as a disgruntle little curse coming from his chest.  

“Having fun there, Amatus?”  

“Fucking so much--” There was an abrupt stop, a twang of a bow, “Maker’s tits, fuck off... Not, not at you Dorian! I’m just--”

“I thought you were going to tell me if you were in the middle of something? I know you’ve been busy-”   Arn had recently got some odd jobs with the Jenny’s. Although officially he was retired and living between Kirkwall and a place down in Ferelden. Unofficially he was running all over Thedas, spending some weeks in Kirkwall, or most of his time between the Jenny’s and in a Sanctuary for former Templars ran by a Former Templar and Inquisitor.  

“I promise this wasn’t planned. I got some time away, you know. Bandits see someone they wanna attack. No Cupcake put that down, you’re not taking that—okay but let me—The dog found some pretty cloth and now won't let it go. Cupcake you can keep it, just not in your mouth.”  

Dorian let out a chuckle. He was yet to meet the fabled Cupcake, a mabari of sorts. While Arn described her as a ‘good girl’, Varric and Cullen had both described her as ‘a massive beast. Too large to call a dog, and a touch shorter than a great bear.’ “She likes pretty things then?”  

“Oh yes. She keeps finding strange shiny things while we are out. She has a lovely collar at the moment. I’ll guess you’ll see at some point.” They had talked about seeing each other soon, the magisterium who have its break in a few months. He had book passage down to the South. Spend Wintersend in the bitter Ferelden cold. Not quite what he was looking forward too, but the company would be something.  

“It won't be long now,” Dorian comforted. He heard the Mabari bark.  

“Yes Cupcake, that’s Dorian. Yes, you’ll get to meet him, are you excited?” Arn asked his dog. Cupcake barked and jumped. “Did you know I’ve had about 4 people in the last 2 weeks ask me if they could breed with Cupcake. Sure I’m flattered, but I don’t know her history. I wrote to Elena and she said that Cullen said that you have to find out the dogs kin and shit before you let them breed, and I really don’t know. I met this guy in the woods.”  

“Yes, you’re friend Al. Any chance you’ve seen him again?”  

“Not last month while I was around there. Next time I’m that way I’ll ask about him. I don’t think she’s like, ill or anything I just don’t want people coming back and yelling to me about dog things I don’t know anything about.” Arn complained.  

“Yes, well you know those Ferelden’s, very stuff about their dogs.”

“How is Snookums by the way?” Arn asked

“Her name is not ‘Snookums’.” Dorian protested.  

“We’ll she didn’t answer to Vivienne.”

“She’s a snake...”

“She always perks up when I call her name.” Arn boasted.

Dorian let out a deep sigh. “Maybe it's just you animal magnetism.”

Arn chuckled loudly. “Anyway, how is Tevinter? Still as hot as ever?”

Dorian went on about the dragging sessions in the Magisterium, who was dead from last time, new faces and new blood. Same old same old.  

“Oh Dorian,” Arn interjected. “I need to send Cupcake to you, I have to run a few jobs and it’s no place for Cupcake. Is it okay if I send her up? I know Bull is going that way, I have a friend who can pick her up from there and take her into town, if that’s okay. If not I can send her down south with the Rutherford’s. And I mean either one is fine.”

“Of cause,” Dorian wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the Mabari, specially where he was staying. But it would be nice to have some company. “Are you getting Erik to take her in?”  

“Yeah, he’ll have some stuff for you as well. You know Erik, he’s good. Thomas is pouting about the whole thing but he just needs to get out more. 40 years in the Circle will kinda make you a bit cranky” Dorian smiled, Thomas was a crusty older gentleman, but Thomas and Erik had never left each other's side since the early days of the Inquisition. “Oh, I won't be able to talk while on the Job, but I’ll at least try to find time once it's over to call.”  

“I expected that much.”  

“Wonderful! I have to get going but I’ll call you before the job!”  

Dorian ended the call. Arn looked down to Cupcake. Bull was in view with the Chargers. “I’ll be a week behind her, she wont be too much trouble.” Arn explained to Bull. Cupcake already started dancing around Krem and Bull’s Kadan.  

“She’ll be fine. I didn’t know Mabari could be Qunari sized?”

“I know right? I hope Dorian doesn’t mind.”

“He’s capable.” Bull laughed. “Does he know you’re coming?”  

“Nope.” He popped the p. “Erik is gonna keep quiet. He knows where it is, he’ll send me directions.”

“You wont be able to miss it, it’s the most pompous looking house in the street.” Bull chuckled.

[fancytrinkets]

Necromancy (The Western Approach)

Note: This is just me trying to reconcile the game mechanics of necromancy with how necromancy is written about in the codices... Not sure if I get it right, but it’s an attempt. Also, this scene is written as Dorian/Inquisitor, but honestly when you take this piece out of context, if you really want to read this as pre-relationship Adoribull — or else as the start of Dorian/Inquisitor/Bull — you totally could and I would support you.

Shit.

The thought flashes through Trevelyan's mind at the exact moment he feels the nerves prickle across the palm of his hand. From the noise behind him — a sudden whoosh like the rushing of wind or water — he knows that a rift has just opened. He doesn't need to look to confirm it, but he does anyway, hoping against hope that he won't see demons yet. But of course there are.

"Shit!" he says, counting four wisps and an arcane horror.

"Not good," Bull says through gritted teeth as he takes stock of the change in their situation.

He's been holding his own against two Venatori warriors. Neither opponent can match his strength and skill. But it's two against one and they're both relying on the unfaltering strength of their barriers. Three spellbinder mages are keeping them shielded. They're also carpeting the ground underfoot with fire and ice glyphs — very dangerous if stepped on.

Trevelyan and Dorian have been dispelling everything — barriers, glyphs, and ambient hostile magic — as quickly as they can. All the while, they're casting and recasting barriers with frantic speed to keep their own party shielded. But it means they can't launch aggressive attacks of their own.

If they could take out even one of those spellbinders, they'd gain an immediate advantage. And Sera's been trying. She's targeting the mages and hoping for a lucky hit. But the spellbinders are all reinforcing each other, and her arrows glance harmlessly off each renewed barrier.

As soon as the rift opens, she spins, aims, and starts picking off wisps one by one.

"Look out!" she says.

Trevelyan turns just in time to see the arcane horror cast its spell. Spurred on by a rush of nerves, he jumps aside as a green burst of deadly energy spirals past him. It hits one of the Venatori warriors to devastating effect. The remnants of a barrier spell burn away to nothing. Thick plate armor is sundered and the warrior staggers, struggles to remain standing, and then collapses.

"Maker," Trevelyan says, breathing the word with effort and relief.

That could easily have been him lying dead in the sand. No question about it, that arcane horror needs to be dealt with — and since its weakness is the spirit magic he wields with his spectral blade, he's their best chance at stopping it quickly.

Though I wouldn't mind if it takes down another couple of Venatori first.

It's a passing thought, nothing more than a flash of grim humor to ease the reality of death on the battlefield. But then, with sudden clarity, he knows exactly what they have to do. He snaps his fingers at Dorian, catching his attention, then points to the arcane horror.

"Spirit mark," he says.

A flash of recognition crosses Dorian's face, and without a word, he casts behind them. His magic hits the arcane horror, marking it to entice the lesser spirits when it falls.

"Yours now!" he calls out, because what's next is to kill this thing, and he, too, knows that Trevelyan can do it better than anyone.

And so Trevelyan takes a breath, casts his Fade cloak, and then charges towards it unseen. He reemerges into the world with a burst of damaging energy. It stuns his enemy for a second and allows him to follow up with four swift hits from his spectral blade. He's grown more powerful thanks to frequent practice, and the arcane horror doesn't stand a chance. The demon falls, destroyed, and immediately rises up again, lit by the purple glow of necromancy. Guided by Dorian's magic, it sets to work targeting one Venatori after another.

When it's all over — when their enemies lie dead and the rift is sealed — Dorian jogs over to talk to Trevelyan. He's grinning with pure delight.

"Excellent thinking! I'm impressed," he says. "Most people don't know it's possible."

"What do you mean?" Trevelyan asks, because he's not really sure what Dorian's on about.

"Ah," Dorian says, launching straight into explanatory mode, "yes, well, as everyone knows, a lesser spirit isn't typically strong enough take on the powers of an arcane horror once you've vanquished the original pride spirit possessing the mage's corpse. But, if you've got an extremely masterful necromancer like me around..."

His voice trails off, and his expression changes from jubilant to concerned.

"Oh, I see," he says. "You didn't even realize, did you?"

"Probably not?" Trevelyan's not still quite not sure what he's missing.

Dorian chuckles, though he doesn't seem amused.

"I turned an arcane horror for you. That's impressive magic. Not just anyone can do it. And you didn't even know enough about necromancy to realize that."

Trevelyan winces.

"No, I guess not."

The Circle didn't teach him about necromancy at all. As a topic, it wasn't banned; it was simply omitted. Everything he understands about it now is from Dorian having explained it to him. And for the first time, Trevelyan realizes how frustrating and lonesome that must be. Dorian is a researcher, a true intellectual with interests spanning several fields of advanced theoretical magic. He deserves to have a community of scholars around him. But all he has here is basic battlemagic and frequent treks through the wilderness.

"Well, never mind, it all worked out," Dorian says.

He looks around, spots a flat rock nearby, and sits down to unlace his boots and pour the sand out of them. It's obvious he's annoyed.

"What am I even saying?" he asks. "Of course it worked out. You're the luckiest bastard I've ever met. Everything works out for you."

Trevelyan sighs, still feeling sheepish in his ignorance, and digs in his pocket for the hair tie he borrowed from Varric earlier. The wind is picking up, and even with the relative protection of a hooded cloak, his hair keeps blowing across his face. It's been bothersome.

He's busy tying it back when the Iron Bull saunters over. The edge of his axe is still bloody — from striking down the last Venatori once Dorian's spell ended and the arcane horror fell.

"You should put that cowl back on or you'll get sunburned," he says.

Bull is strangely doting sometimes, like a giant mother hen. Trevelyan grins, glad to be distracted from his thoughts.

"I'll be fine for a while without it. I'm no Qunari, but I won't burn in two minutes like that one."

He points towards Sera, who's busy checking the corpses for coins and amulets. Her face is a painful-looking shade of bright pink despite the hood she's been wearing all morning.

"Hey," Bull says, "I'm just looking out for you. Humans are delicate."

"Delicate!?" Dorian stops relacing his boots to glare up at him.

Bull's immediate reply is gleeful laughter. Dorian's indignation was obviously the reaction he was hoping for.

"Not you, big guy," Bull says, reassuring him. "I meant all the others except for you."

"Oh, for Maker's sake!" Dorian rolls his eyes. "You don't need to patronize me."

Bull turns back towards Trevelyan. "I can see why you like this guy. It's fun getting him all riled up."

Dorian rolls his eyes again and sets to work tying and buckling his boots, now free from sand. But he seems more at ease somehow, and less annoyed.

Trevelyan tilts his head, curious and assessing. He's starting to suspect that Bull came over here with the explicit purpose of cutting through the tension. It happens from time to time: Dorian gets his feathers ruffled; Trevelyan falls quiet and serious for a while. They always work it out before long. Under normal circumstances, it's not a big a deal. But threats are everywhere out here and they can't afford to let even minor conflicts fester. As an extremely perceptive former spy, Bull would know this.

"You're in a better mood than I expected," Trevelyan says.

"Yeah," Bull says, "but not really, though. Demons, Vints, bunch of creepy magic shit. It's not my favorite. Hence all the joking around. A man's got to cheer himself up somehow."

"True enough," Trevelyan says, and then he looks up to scan the horizon.

From somewhere in the distance comes the blood-chilling roar of a dragon.