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wardenrainwall · 2 years ago

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a little something - I miss doing the writing on the regular.

Halina Adaar stood in the War Room, the small leather-wrapped parcel spread out on the massive war table that still held a map of Thedas. It contained three items. A beautiful white feather, a folded-up piece of parchment that looked as if it had been carried for a very long time, and lastly, a metal and leather badge that bore the Grey Warden’s sigil. The mark of the Warden-Commander, with a smear of old dried blood.

She knew what it meant. Had suspected for some time even. But there had still been hope. But now, that hope had vanished. Unfolding the piece of paper with trembling fingers Halina began to read.

Dear Halina, My Love,

Tears filled her eyes and she struggled to swallow the sob lodged in her throat.

I never expected to find love, to find a purpose, to find you. It wasn’t enough time. The few short years I’ve known you. The few months we spent together. A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough.

A tear rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the map spread on the table. The handwriting changed slightly, the flow of the ink, a little more unsteady.

It has been months since I last saw you at the Winter Palace since you nearly bleed to death in my arms. I’ve wished for things to be different. That you hadn’t sent me off to join the Wardens. Don’t get me wrong, I value the comrades I’ve made, and the purpose you’ve given me. But I’m wholly selfish and wish I could have found purpose at your side.

Halina’s jaw trembled and she regretted ever giving the command. Declaring that Blackwall would join the Grey Wardens before a room full of people had been a mistake. Because she was selfish too.

The color of ink shifted. The ink bold and crisp, words written much more recently.

They have found a cure. The Wardens are no longer condemned to a death in the Deep Roads. I leave for a mission in the morning, then I plan to return to Skyhold. I made you a ring and I plan to ask for your hand, well, the one that you’ve left.

You made me want to be a better man. You made me feel hope and love, and so much more than the pity I felt for myself for so many years. I can only hope that you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife.

The sob tore from her throat and with the letter clutched to her chest Halina hit her knees and began to wail.

Alistair walked at a fast clip toward the open door of the War Room. One of the scouts had informed him that was where he would find the Inquisitor. The package had been sent before he could stop them. He had wanted to deliver it in person, wanted to present her with the rest of the items found on Warden Rainier’s body in the hopes that it might offer some small comfort.

And he had wanted to be there, to offer a shoulder or an ear as someone who had lost a love to the Wardens as well.

The sound that came from the War Room split his heart in two. He ran, sprinted, that remaining distance and when he burst past the doorway he found Halina, doubled over. She screamed, a sound full of the deepest of pains. Tears filled his own eyes, at remembered loss, at her palpable agony. Seeing the letter in her hand, he felt the tips of his ears burn hot with guilt. Alistair had read the letter, as he’d been there when they prepared Rainier’s body for burning.

The letter and the ring had been tucked into a leather pocket inside Rainier’s gambeson. He’d carried the ring ever since so that he would be able to deliver it safely to the Inquisitor. Reaching up to the chain around his neck, he fingered the ring, the band of metal and stone and wood. Alistair had wanted to present them to her, with his deepest condolences, but now, he stood awkwardly a few short feet away from the woman mourning, unsure of what he should do.

They weren’t friends, they had been mere acquaintances, companions in a few fights. To interrupt her now - his ears burned hotter. Alistair had no place here. He stepped back, eager to flee now, to find her later when these private tears had dried, and then he’d give her the ring.

He took a step back, then another, quiet as a mouse. Alistair turned to continue his silent journey, but he didn’t see the chair until it was too late. It scraped loudly across the wooden floor as his knee crashed into the seat of it and in his attempt to right it, to silence it, he teetered, tipped, and ended up on the floor, with his legs tangled around those of the chair. The pink of his ears had turned to a crimson flush over his entire face as the sobbing woman went silent and reluctantly he looked up and met her eyes.

He scrambled to his feet and set the chair upright once more and looked at Halina as she blinked up at him. “I’m sorry,” he said tugging at the hem of his jacket. “For Rainier.” Her face crumbled and tears rolled down her cheeks again. “I had meant to-” he gestured to the unfolded parcel. “Deliver it in person. To offer my condolences.” Alistair took a step back, kicked the chair again but just managed to catch himself. “I’ll just… go.” Then turning, he fled, mortified by the scene he’d made.

Remembering the ring he almost turned back, but decided that no, he’d humiliated himself enough for one afternoon, he’d find her later and perhaps she will have forgotten the scene he had made in the War room.

#meraadwrites #blackwall x adaar #alistair x adaar #i mean #if I ever actually continue to write this #blackwall #thom rainier #alistair theirin #adaar #inquisitor adaar

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thewardenisonthecase · 9 days ago

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Weathering the Storm

Chapter 1: Before the Storm

Read on ao3

Summary: Southern Thedas is in chaos.

Queen Anneliese Cousland will not let her home fall to the darkspawn. Elizabeth Hawke assumes a new position of power while battling her grief. Asala Adaar will once again be a bridge amongst nations, while her heart becomes once again conflicted. Old rivalries will return and new alliances will be made.

Together, they'll weather this storm.

A/N: I refuse to let the south be nuked.

Much had changed in Ferelden after the Fifth Blight.

For one, the land had a new set of monarchs - the wardens who slayed the Archdemon, Alistair Theirin and Anneliese Cousland. Though young, the two had proven more than capable of leading the nation, trying to heal the country from its tumultuous past.

There were a few hiccups on the way. It took almost a year to completely drive the darkspawn out of the land, and the need to rebuild the Grey Wardens led to Anneliese being appointed by the First Warden as Commander of the Grey. Some had frowned upon the idea, as wardens were not supposed to be involved in politics, but the order did not have many options. Alistair had already been crowned king then, leaving her as the only warden available in Ferelden.

Anneliese had been a capable commander, the fact that both Amaranthine and Vigil’s Keep survived the massive darkspawn attack were evidence of such. She served as both queen and commander until 9:42 Dragon, when a new commander was appointed.

Then there was the chaos of the Breach and Corypheus happening at the same time as the mage and templar war. During that time, Alistair ruled alone, as the queen had gone missing, for reasons most were unaware of.

Thankfully, the defeat of the ancient darkspawn at the hands of the Inquisitor, Asala Adaar, had brought Ferelden to an uneasy peace. There was much work to be done, especially in the lands most affected by the conflict, but at least, there were no longer any major threats. Besides, the Ferelden people had always been resilient - anything they lost, they would gain back, rebuild and become stronger than before.

Most importantly, to Alistair, Anneliese had returned. Reunited once again, the couple eventually gave Ferelden an heir, Duncan, a sign many saw as a hope for the future.

By 9:52, Ferelden had enjoyed one decade of peace.

It would not last.

Denerim, one month before the attack

When Anneliese Cousland woke up in the middle of the night, she quickly noticed that her husband was absent from the bed. Though they had separate rooms, Alistair would always find a way to her bed.

She slowly got up, grabbed a shawl and wrapped it around herself, as there was a chill in the air, before walking out. A guard was stationed outside her door.

“The king went to the children’s bedroom, your grace.” The man spoke, before Anneliese could ask.

She nodded, saying “Thank you, ser.”

Ever since their first child, Duncan, was born it wasn’t unusual for Alistair to go watch his son sleep. The boy had come to the world earlier than expected, and she remembered how Alistair would worry if their little boy would make it. He’d spend the whole night next to his crib, ‘just being sure he’s still breathing’ as he would tell her.

His worriness only doubled when their daughter, Brynne, was born.

Anneliese soon found her way to the room. She hadn’t brought a candle with her, as some of the halls still had light and, after living in Denerim’s palace for twenty years, she could find her away even with her eyes closed.

The door was slightly ajar, and from where she stood, she saw Alistair sitting at the very edge of Brynne’s bed, looking at her. He hadn’t noticed she was there until she whispered his name.

He turned around abruptly, like he had been caught unaware. His face relaxed when he noticed it was just her. “Maker, you scared me.” He whispered, a hand on his chest.

She smiled and slowly sat beside him, holding one of his hands as she looked at Brynne and then at Duncan, who slept on the other bed.

“They look so peaceful.” Alistair said and then sighed. He looked at her, brows furrowed. “We need to talk. Not here, though.”

“Is something wrong?” Anneliese asked as they both stood up and made their way outside of the room. Near where the children slept was a balcony.

Alistair looked to the sky, breathing in the cold night’s air before saying “I dreamt of it. Of the Archdemon.”

A recurring nightmare for the two of them. Years later, Alistair still complained of having his dreams haunted by the dragon. But the tone in his voice…something was wrong.

She put a hand on his back. “It’s not the first time you had those.”

“I know but this one…it wasn’t the archdemon you killed, Anneliese.” He gulped. “It was another.”

“But that would mean…”

They shared a look, the word left unspoken in the air.

“I’ll write to Vigil’s Keep tomorrow.” Anneliese said. “The Wardens will have information, and if they don’t, then they should at least be warned.”

Alistair nodded. He placed a hand on where her bump was most prominent, their foreheads touching. “Maker, I hope I’m wrong.”

“I hope so too.”

Elizabeth Hawke took a deep breath as she walked into the Viscount’s office. Her office now.

“You know, this reminds me of when I became captain, all those years ago.” The sound of Aveline’s heavy armor gave her away as she entered the room behind Hawke. “But the roles are reversed now. You’re the one gaining a promotion.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Hawke huffed as she slowly turned to the captain. On her hand, she held the spiky crown that belonged to whoever ruled Kirkwall. Once, she had seen it on Dumar’s bald head, and then on Varric’s, whenever he decided to give Bran a heart attack.

Now, it belonged to her.

“Hawke.” Aveline said, in a firm yet soft tone. “How are you holding up?”

She sighed as she looked at Aveline. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. There’s not even a body for us to bury.”

“I know.”

Hawke didn’t say anything as she swallowed back her tears. She had cried too much already, when the letter from Harding arrived in her estate. She had cried even more when the vote to decide the new Viscount came to an end, and she had won. And finally, she had drowned herself in tears when Varric’s will was read.

Hawke had wanted to go hunt down Solas and kill him for what he had done. But right now, she needed to hold it together. For Varric and for Kirkwall.

“Does Fenris know?” Aveline broke the silence.

Hawke nodded. “He’s still making his way back from Tevinter, but hopefully he’ll be back soon. I also told the others.” She said, referring to their group of ages past. Hawke had been the only one to still keep contact with everyone, despite each going their separate way. “Aveline…do you think I’m cut for this job?”

Aveline frowned. “Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know, everything feels so different. Years ago, I would have eagerly taken this position, but now…”

“Hawke” She cut her off. “If anyone deserves this, its you. You came here as a Ferelden refugee and climbed your way to becoming the Champion. The people trust in you. Your return from Weisshaupt boosted everyone’s morale, you have helped the city more than most could say. I believe in you.”

Elizabeth gave her a small smile and nodded. “Thank you, Aveline.” She then smirked. “Things will be easier now that I have you at my beck and call. If I order you to bring me tea, you’ll have to do it.”

Aveline huffed. “Don’t even think about it, Hawke.”

Somewhere outside of Orlais, three weeks before the attack

When Thom entered the room, he found Asala sitting on a chair, staring at a glowing, blue wolf statuette on the table.

“Where did that come from?” He asked, as he sat on the opposite chair and began cleaning his sword.

“I was walking and then I just…stumbled upon it.” She murmured.

“Stumbled upon it?” He repeated, skeptically.

Asala sighed “I was walking and I felt something calling to me. I…followed that feeling until I found this.” She looked at him. “I think it belongs to him.”

She didn’t need to say the name for Thom to stop working on his blade and lean back on his chair, rubbing his eyes.

“Maker’s ball.” He grumbled. “Won’t that bastard ever leave you alone?”

Even after eight years, Solas was still the biggest point of contention between Thom and Asala’s relationship. Though she often reassured him that her love was genuine, a few old insecurities would still come back.

After all, he had spent a year seeing their relationship from afar. He still feared he would never be enough, nothing more than a consolation prize.

Asala reached forward and held his hand. “Thom. Don’t go there.”

She looked at him with a soft gaze that made him shake his head. Gently, he bent and kissed her hand before saying “I’m sorry.” She gave him a small smile as he sat back again. “What do you plan on doing with it?”

“I’m not sure. I have sent word to Morrigan about it, maybe she’ll know something. For now, we have a bigger problem.” She grabbed a letter that had been resting on the table, one he hadn’t even noticed, and handed it to him.

Thom’s eyes skimmed over the letter, grabbing only the important details.

“Venatori in Orlais? How?”

“I’m not sure either but it has something to do with what has been going on in the North. Morrigan promised to explain it better, but we need to help the Empress.” Asala said. “They began as a small subsection of the nobility, but Briala reports that they have grown in power there.”

“The Maker sure has a sense of humor.” Thom let out a dry chuckle. “Just when you think you can settle down…”

“Duty calls.” She finished the phrase. Asala sighed and stood up from her chair, and held out her hand to him. “With you leaving with the Wardens again soon, we won’t get much time alone. Let’s make the most of it.”

He smiled softly, grabbing her hand and standing up. “Of course, my lady.”

Tearstone Island, ???

Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain looked at the map of Thedas laid beneath them. Soon, Treviso and Minrathous would learn what true power meant.

What was the force of the Antaam or the Venatori when compared to the might of two blighted dragons? What would those compare to their Archdemons?

But the north won’t be the only one to bend to their will. No, the power of the Blight did not discriminate.

The South would not be spared from their schemes.

#alistair x female cousland #anneliese cousland #alistair theirin #fenris x hawke #elizabeth hawke #female hawke #purple mage hawke #blackwall x adaar #blackwall #thom rainier #inquisitor adaar #female adaar #mage adaar #asala adaar #female cousland #warden cousland #fix it fic

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