#cassandra x inquisitor elf

[bryants-things]

Another one shot from Dragon Age since I started the game all over again:

This is from the Hinterlands they have just talked to Mother Giselle. This Lavellan speaks very little common tongue. He’s scared and doesn’t want to give the Seeker any excuse to make him tranquil so he keeps things to himself even injuries. This little text is Casandra seeing our sleeping herald in a different light for the first time.

Cassandra stretch, it must have been nearly two hours now? It’s hard to to tell in the dark. She bitterly regret taking third guard shift. She prefers being first or last. But the Herald made it clear he wanted first shift. As much as he could make it anyway. His common tongue is awful, and littered with eleven. And it’s not always easy to understand him.

There is only two tents in this stupid camp just of Redclif farm, and she is not sharing with Varric, which means she got the Herald. Cassandra know nothing of the Dalish and she does not trust mages. So the less time she has to spend sleeping next to the knife ear the better. She would never call him that out loud of course. And although she has seen no proof of him killing the Divine. She can not bring herself to trust him. And why should she? He’s a mage and a en elf..

He’s everything she’s been taught to fear and hate. And he is not exactly trusting himself. All jumpy and wired his ears constantly moving and flicking like a scared dear. He clearly does not like humans much and Cassandra need to keep an eye out. She’s here to make sure he doesn’t run off at first opportunity or die closing a small rift, he’s a means to an end nothing more.

Light footsteps break her thoughts, it’s Solas who’s come to take his shift.

“All is well I hope?” He gives her a gentle smile.

She’s not sure she trusts Solas either but she trust him more than the Herald.

“Yes nothing to report”.

“Good get some rest Lady Seeker. And you needn’t worry our Dalish friend is asleep.”

Cassandra huffs and walk of. She holds the lantern high so she can see.

The light dance on the red Canvas and she can make out the shape of him on the left side. She sets the lantern just outside and get in, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark. His head is away from the entrance, the cascade of read hair is everywhere, how can a man have this much hair? She wonders. He’s on his belly, face towards her.

She can se the white tattoo on his face. And she just now realises that his tattoo stretch under his jaw and along the neck where it fan out to his shoulders.

He’s not wearing a shirt, or much of anything she guess. The bed roll cover his back but not his legs which are bare as well.

Sweet Andraste elves do not value modesty.

She must admit to some curiosity however.

She has never seen what a knife ear actually look like. She can’t help herself and let her eyes wander the length of his body.

To her surprise he is well built at least from what she can see. Long lean muscles in his arms and legs, his pointed ears move slightly when he breathes. She guess that he relax the muscles in his ears when he sleeps.

His left hand stretched out above his head, even with his palm towards the earth she can still see the glow of the anchor. His arm is scattered with wounds; thin red lines zigzagging up to his elbow. It must be from the conclave.

His right arm is tucked underneath the pillow, Cassandra suddenly notice his right leg. There’s long deep wounds from his knee to his foot. A Sylvain, by the look of it.

Fresh as well, he must have gotten clawed when the fought the demon possessed wolfs. She taught she heard him cry out in pain.

And somehow he walked all this way without saying a word. He’s cleaned it up and left his leg out to give the wounds air, to avoid an infection.

He groans in his sleep and roll over to his back. Cassandra can feel her cheeks burn, but to her relief he is wearing his small clothes.

Not that she should be looking anyway. She is Cassandra Penthgast ;right hand of the Devine a Seeker of truth not some bar wench. And he is a knife ear ;a savage Dalish from across the sea. A tool to close the breach nothing more.

Still she sneaks a peek, solid muscles in his chest a long rib cage. A lot more ribs than humans she guess. And again the tattoo fans out just under his collarbone which are more slanted than a humans. And meet at his solaris plexus in the same pattern as his face. The white lines are a stark contrast to his tanned skin.

She won’t say it’s beautiful but it’s certainly eye catching.

She can se the stitches at the bottom of his rib cage this she know is from the conclave. Adan had to remove 4 ribs or like he said it “pick out pieces of crushed bone. It’s going to scar.

She let her eyes wander to his hips, and suck in air as to stop herself from looking anymore. His ears flicker and he looks at her. His elven eyes glow in the dark. The first time she saw it, was in Haven’s dungeon and she couldn’t stop herself from thinking demon. But according to Leliana elves can see in the dark like cats.

So now she’s more prepared, “Lady Seeker?”

His voice thick with sleep.

“Yes.” She responds, and lies down still in her shirt and trousers. She value her modesty even he does not.

He chuckles and rolls over with his back towards her. She can hear his breath becoming even. He must trust her a little? Being willing to sleep safely next to her. She breathes and take her trousers of at least. He clearly has no plans to hurt her, maybe it’s more to this Dalish savage? At the bare minimum he seem to have manners.

[bellamer]

Oretta: Alright big boy, time for a nap, you've been working your ass off on this red lyrium shit, my knight commander needs rest.

Cullen: But Inquisitor-

Oretta: We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You decide.

Cullen: I'm sorry but I have to get this done.

-Five minutes later-

Josephine: W...What is The Inquisitor doing to Cullen ?

Oretta, carrying Cullen over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes: I warned ya Cully-Boy, but you wanted to do it the hard way.

Cullen, blushing profusely: INQUISITOR, PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT !

Oretta: Nah, you wanted to do this the hard way, ima do it the hard way.

Cullen: YOU COULD HAVE TAKEN ME TO MY BED !

Oretta: First of all, that was only the option if you went the easy way, second of all, your mattress is way too hard and is probably fucking up your back, so I'm taking you to my room. We just have to walk across Skyhold in front of EVERYONE to get there.

Cassandra: My, I didn't know that the Inquisitor was so strong....

Iron Bull: Oh yeah, I work out with her sometimes. Boss says she can't solely rely on her magic to defend herself so she's been working out vigorously. It's scary how swole she's gotten so fast but I think her muscles are made out of mostly spite and the need to destroy Coryphyus.

Varric: Wow... look at her... she's actually climbing those tall ass stairs with Cullen over her shoulder...a dainty looking elf like her lugging around the knight commander like he's nothing and she's not even breaking a sweat.

Cole, appearing from nowhere: But it's okay. Cullen actually secretly likes being manhandled by her, so we shouldn't be alarmed.

Varric:.... I always knew he was freaky.

Iron Bull: Dorian owes me a drink.

-In the Inquisitors Quarters-

Cullen: That wasn't funny, Oretta ! Everyone saw ! I won't be able to show my face around Skyhold for weeks ! Do you know how hard that is since I'm knight commander ?!?

Oretta: I'm pretty sure that I heard you moan when I grabbed your waist tighter to make sure that you didn't fall when we went up the stairs, so was it really that bad for you ?

Cullen:.......

Oretta, opening her arms: Now let me hold you some more.

Cullen, crawling into her arms: Alright.... I really could use a nap...

[silent-words]

Masterpost

Hello, friend! Let me introduce myself. I am a university teacher, a galemancer, a metalhead and a DnD player/DM. Here in this blog I mostly post things related to Gale from Baldur's Gate 3. I also entered the Dragon Age fandom and my DA posts are tagged as #silent words posts da. If you want to see my DA fics, scroll down.

Long Fanfiction (Gale x F!Tav)

My long ongoing fanfiction about Gale and my OC, elf bard Laerie can be found on AO3:

You can find posts about it by #laerie x gale tag. I also call them verseweave now.

Modern AU with Gale and F!Tav (Kitani)

The Blue Flower (link to AO3)

An Unexpected Call

Coffee

Character analyses + Headcanons:

Thirst thoughts

Gale’s warmth

Tav waiting for Gale

Gale at the Blackstaff academy

A song I associate with Gale

Gale's mother headcanon

Gale and His Autonomy (+ a personal story of how I relate to him)

Drabbles about Gale:

Difference in Gods (Dark Urge spoilers!)

Free (Laerie and Gale climb a tower in Baldur's Gate, fluff)

Gale pondering his life sitting in a cemetery

The Intricacies of Cherries (a bit spicy, but not explicit)

Gale kisses part 1 / part 2 / part 3

My Tavs (aka original characters from BG3):

Imogen Blackmoore (half-elf druid)

Laerie Haresque (elf lore bard)

Kitani Kuoroa (human Dark Urge necromancy wizard)

Miscellaneous from BG3:

Barbecue trip with the companions (not a fic)

BG3 City game (tag and ask)

NSFW asks about Kitani

Arrival of Scratch

Dragon Age fanfiction (all oneshots):

Da mi basia mille (Dorian/Inquisitor, set after Trespasser, SFW) - the fic is in English, if this Catullus' quote made you wonder XD

Mage's Legacy (Dorian & Cassandra friendship fic, Dorian/Inquisitor implied, SFW)

The Experiment (Dorian/Inquisitor, mage theory, power of love, SFW)

[2dmenenthusiast]

“Maybe a series. An epic, even.”

(Varric x Elf Inquisitor!Reader)

a very short, fluffy piece for y'all. I've been wanting to write for Varric for a while cuz there's barely anything for him which makes ZERO sense. I need more fanfics about this handsome dwarf :(

I hope you enjoy and comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Summary: dreams of being thrown into the future and watching your comrades die have been plaguing you, and a certain dwarf appears to comfort you

Word count: 1k

Warnings/other info: Mentions of death, nightmares, floof

Another restless night in Skyhold. Unsurprising, but highly frustrating.

You couldn’t remember the last time you got a decent night’s sleep, plagued with nightmares of demons and everything else under the sun trying to kill you. You’ve had them since you first bestowed the mark, but they had only gotten worse ever since Alexius sent you forward in time.

You know everyone would disapprove of you torturing yourself like this, but you couldn’t help it. You imagined every single way things could’ve gone wrong, how you could’ve been stuck in the future forever. You relived the moment you saw Cassandra die, and Varric’s lifeless body was thrown to the side. You remember the enraged look on Leliana’s face as she put as many arrows in your enemies as she could, before she was killed mercilessly as well. Everything was okay now, things were set the way they should be. But what if they weren’t? What if—

You groaned, sitting up in bed and putting some warmer clothes on before walking down to the throne room. It was empty as expected, considering it was— what, almost 3 in the morning? You’d probably only average a couple hours of sleep at this point before you had to go out scouting in the morning. Cassandra won’t be pleased, that’s for sure.

Traveling the path out to the battlements, you leaned your arms against the stone wall and gazed at the night sky. The stars were incredibly bright, and the cool air felt heavenly against your skin. You’re considering just moving your bed out here. Of course, it wouldn't be the greatest idea for everyone in the inquisition to see you in your underwear first thing in the morning.

“If you’re planning on jumping, might I remind you of the imminent threat that faces us that only you can defeat with that thing on your hand.”

You turned your head just enough to see Varric in your peripherals, the dwarf sauntering up to you.

“You think I’d leave you here to fend for yourself?”

He shrugged. “People have made worse mistakes.”

You grinned, and he stood next to you. He set his gaze to the sky.

“I understand why you come out here. Definitely prefer looking at this than the shit we’ve been facing every day.”

You huffed out a halfhearted laugh, leaning your chin against your hand as you looked at him. Varric always knew what to say to cheer you up, even if the comfort sometimes came in vague insults.

The image of his body being tossed to the side like he weighed nothing appeared in your mind again, and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to block it out. Varric noticed, because of course he did. He seems to notice everything.

“Got something on your mind?”

You scoffed. “Only the seemingly imminent end of the world.”

“Oh, come on, Lucky. You know that Corypheus bastard is all talk. You’ve got that mark on your hand for a reason.”

“The reason being I was in the right place at the right time.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Recently, it feels like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Varric furrowed his brows, forehead wrinkling as he turned his body to face you.

“What’s wrong with you? If I’m mistaken, the only brooding elf I know is Solas.”

Teeth dug into your bottom lip and your hands gripped the stone wall. The mark on your hand slightly pulsed, and you took a breath to try and calm your racing thoughts. Since the Inquisition formed, you’ve grown to care deeply about your comrades and your advisors. You all got off to a rocky start, a few being wary to even speak to you, but with time, you all grew comfortable with each other. Some more friendly than others. And Varric… Well. He was a special case.

You’ve found yourself growing quite fond of the dwarf, beyond levels of platonic, and the thought scared you. Ever since you got the mark, your life expectancy grew shorter every day. There would be times where you’d come back to Skyhold barely clinging to life, only to have your friends berate you for being so reckless on your missions. Because, of course, you were everyones savior. And you had to live. But, after Corypheus was dead, and the hole in the sky was closed, what then? Would you outlive your usefulness? Would you be forgotten?

You imagined you’d be dead, most likely.

So, you kept your feelings close to your heart, making sure  your emotions were under control. But, it was like a boiling pot, ready to bubble over any second. And seeing Varric die in that alternate timeline, it was only getting harder and harder to swallow your feelings.

“I keep… That day, when Alexius sent us into the future where… Corypheus won, I keep dreaming about it. About how you and Cassandra and Leliana sacrificed yourselves so I could go back and fix everything. And I did. We stopped Alexius, we’re still going after Corypheus. Everything is the way it should be. But…”

You sniffled, a familiar burning sensation behind your eyes that you tried to blink away.

“I keep seeing you, and your body being thrown to the floor, and any thought I had of going back to stop all of it from happening was completely thrown out the fucking window when I saw that. Because all I could think about was saving you. And how you died before I could tell you that I—”

You cut yourself off with a huff, reaching your hand up to wipe away the rogue tears that had rolled down your cheeks. Varric’s expression was a mixture of many things. Confusion, shock… sadness. You clear your throat in an effort to compose yourself. It barely helps.

“I’ve… grown quite fond of you during our time together. And when you died, I swore to myself I wouldn’t let it happen again. No matter how ready you might be to throw yourself into the line of fire for me,” you ended with a jab. Some humor to ease your words.

Varric smiled. “Anything to save the hero.”

You shook your head. “I believe you are more of a hero than I.”

“Yes, because being part of the Merchants Guild is a very heroic duty.”

Chuckling softly, you turn to him and reach out a hand, softly running your fingers down the chain of his necklace before looping them through the circle pendant. It shines in the moonlight when you turn it between your fingers, and you let it drop softly against his exposed chest.

“I understand if my… confession seems inappropriate or makes you uncomfortable, so. We can just pretend it never happened if you would prefer—”

“Actually,” your eyes slightly widened when he smirked, gripping your wrist when you tried to pull your hand back, “I think a kiss from the Herald of Andraste would be quite the story to tell.”

You smiled, hand slipping from his grip so you could hold his. “Just one story?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a series. An epic, even.”

You couldn’t control the rapid beating of your heart as you slightly bent to his height before gently pressing your lips to his, his warm, calloused hand reaching up to hold your face. A kiss under the night sky was more perfect than you could imagine. Because every time the thought of kissing the dwarf did occur, it was always in the midst of battle, when things seemed less than ideal, and it might be your last chance of telling him how you felt. Now? There might be a promise of more moments like this to occur in the future, and you couldn’t be happier.

Pulling away, you stood to your full height, but kept his hand in yours. You couldn’t wipe that stupid grin off your face, and he laughed at the sight.

“I’d say it’s time to get our hero to bed, hm? Got a long day ahead of us.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?”

Varric pulled you forward and led you down the battlements, gently squeezing your hand. “Please. You think so little of me that I’d let you be alone tonight?”

Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were grinning, and you lightly bumped your side into his.

Maybe everything would be okay in the end after all.

[shanaraharlyah]

Whatever It Takes

Setting: Dragon Age Inquisition Trespasser

Pairing: Cassandra Pentagast x Hellendil Lavellan

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Dismemberment

Word Count: 952

A short blurb to go with the included renders of my third Inquisitor, Hellendil, and his chosen love interest, Cassandra (boy truly has a hard time making decisions on things, relationships included). Set during the Trespasser DLC in between ending scenes. Contains spoilers if you haven't completed the DLC.

Down on one knee before the towering eluvian, Hellendil clutches his staff, fighting to keep himself upright. He wishes he could follow Solas through the mirror and convince him to stop, but he's just too weak. The anchor has taken its toll and even though it is gone now, he needs a moment to regain his strength. He knows Solas will be long gone by the time he recovers enough to follow. The ancient elf knew exactly where each of these eluvians led and how they worked. He will be impossible to track. The inquisitor takes a deep breath. And another.

Whatever spell Solas used to sever his arm and prevent the anchor from killing him had also cauterized the wound. What remains of his arm continues to throb, only a small amount of blood still oozing and dripping onto the stone slabs of the ancient ruin. He lets out a sigh and summons his strength to pull himself up. Using his staff for support, he cautiously descends the stairs, weaving his way around the petrified qunari. He flinches as he passes the first one, the wound still fresh. Before reaching the inner sanctum, he was forced to take down The Iron Bull, who remained loyal to the Ben-Hassrath and turned on him and his companions.

He wonders just how many mistakes and ill- advised choices he'd made over the course of the last three years. His heart aches at the thought. Maybe the Arl was right. Maybe the Inquisition should be disbanded. But he didn't want to make that choice alone. Especially after everything that's happened the last few days. He needed time to think and someone to talk to.

When he reaches the landing, he looks up at the eluvian that will take him back to his friends, his energy nearly spent. As he pushes on through the archway, he drops the staff and grasps the frame of the mirror to keep himself from falling. He groans and grits his teeth as the impact jars his injured arm.

Across the courtyard, his companions hear the scuffle and groan, and look in his direction. "Hellendil!" Cassandra gasps, and quickly closes the distance between them.

At the sound of her approach, he lets go of the eluvian and stumbles into her arms, clinging to her as if he thought he would never see her again. She holds him close as he buries his face in the crook of her neck. "Maker! What happened!?" she whispers, the concern in her voice undeniable.

"I couldn't stop him," he replies, his brow furrowed with pain and disappointment that he couldn't convince the man he'd called friend to abandon his quest.

Cassandra lowers him to the ground and kneels beside him, gently squeezing his thigh. "He did this to you?"

He reaches for her and squeezes her arm, while catching her gaze, "He prevented the anchor from killing me. You have me now for as long as it takes for him to institute his plan, unless we can find a way to stop him." He pauses, knowing how the information he's about to share will sound. There is a pleading look in his eyes as he continues, "They are real, Cassandra. The elven gods are real, and Solas is one of them."

She tries to suppress an incredulous look, but fails. "You are weak and delusional. We must get you back to the Winter Palace and a healer."

"You're right. I do need to see a healer, but this is the truth, Cassandra." His hand moves to cup her cheek while his thumb ghosts over her cheek bone. He loves her dearly, but he knows her devotion to the Maker is making it hard for her to fathom the truth he's revealing. "I've collected enough information here and at the Temple of Mythal to prove it. They weren't some abstract concept, beings above and beyond us, but real people who our ancestors devoted themselves to. Solas was one and he intends to attempt to restore the world to what it was before he bound his fellows. These ruins, temples were built by his followers. You've seen the information we've uncovered here. It's not a trick or a fairy tale.

"Whether you believe me or not, we need to find a way to stop him or convince him to stop before he destroys this world. The anchor. It's what he used millenia ago to separate the fade from the waking world. He's going to use it to tear down the veil. If the breach is any indication of what will happen, the entire world will be thrown into chaos."

Shock is written across her face at this revelation. When she recovers, Cassandra studies his face. She can see that he is both physically and emotionally drained from everything they've been through these past few days. And that he's not lying. She doesn't know how to process what he's told her. She reaches for him, caressing his cheek. He leans into her touch and kisses her palm. Her stoic look melts and she embraces him, fingers curling in his long locks. "I don't know what all of this means, but I am with you. Whatever Solas is, we can't let him succeed. Whatever it takes."

A soft smile brightens his face as he pulls her closer, no small feat considering the armor she's wearing and his weakened state.  “Whatever it takes,” he echoes, his resolve bolstered by her support.  He inhales sharply and allows himself to rest there in her arms.  They will need to get moving soon, but right now he needed a moment to breathe and take comfort in his beloved’s strength.

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

lay with wolves (alone it seems)

pairing: solas x nyneve lavellan (levellan oc)

rating: e

status: in progress

warnings: smut, spoilers for inquisition

a/n: apparently i write dragon age inquisition fic now. who would have thought?

“There’s an elf in your room.”

Nyneve shoveled the rest of the sweetbread that she had been eating into her mouth, tearing her gaze from the map before her to look at the dwarf who leaned against the door jamb to the war room.

“There’s always an elf in my room,” she teased, pointing to the curve of her own ears before giving him her brightest smile.

He rolled his eyes, though she did not miss the tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re worse than Bull.”

“No one is worse than Bull.” In truth, she adored the Qunari, but that wasn’t relevant when the opportunity to poke fun at him arose.

Varric shrugged. “Fair enough,” he agreed. He held out a hand when she made to pass him, though he did not touch her, never touched her; he simply let it hang in the air between them. “Be careful.”

The words were uncharacteristically caring, a side of Varric that rarely came out, and when she looked down at him, she could not say for certain what she saw there. If any had become her closest friend in the time she had been here, both in Haven and Skyhold, it was him. He had had her back since Cassandra loosened her chains, and she had done her best to have his in return.

Her smile faltered. “I’m always careful.”

“Now that’s a laugh.” Time stretched out between them, time and the kernel of care that had grown there, but finally, he stepped out of the door. She sidestepped him and disappeared down the hall, nodding at those who called out greetings of “Your Worship” or “Inquisitor” as she cut through the main hall to head back to her rooms.

Her room, which was empty.

The door to one of the balconies was open, however, so she made her way outside and found that the sun still hovered above the mountain peaks, setting the snowy world below ablaze in shades of red and gold, as if it yearned to chase away the chill that crept through Skyhold.

Nyneve leaned against the bannister, hoping for a few peaceful moments surrounded by such beauty - moments that had become fleetingly rare since the destruction of Haven.

“Why did Keeper Hawen call you Embla?” Solas asked, stepping from where he leaned against the wall beside the door, his eyes hard as they met hers, as if he resented the secret she kept for herself.

read the rest here on ao3

[elfyelation]

𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭 | smutshot

pairing—dorian pavus x male!lavellan summary—if dorian's father could see him right now he'd probably combust where he stood warnings—pwp, top!dorian, bottom!lavellan, hair pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms word count—909 rating—18+, smut under the cut

If only his father could see him now, his disappointment of a son; Altus mage of the Tevinter Imperium, balls deep inside the famed Herald of Andraste — not to mention, an elf, and Dalish at that — well, he would likely have combusted where he stood.

Dorian was used to being a disappointment. He wasn’t what his father had wanted in a son. He was a great mage, certainly an asset to the Imperium, but he fell short when it came to his romantic and sexual relations.

He had no intention to ever take a wife, nor sire any children of his own. Not only due to his complete lack of interest in women but also because the idea of becoming a father terrified him. He hadn’t had the best role model, so to speak.

There was always some enjoyment to be had in knowing his actions only riled his father further. As much as he wanted nothing more than to be accepted by him and make him proud, a part of him had given up on that long ago. Just as his father had certainly already given up on him.

Especially now as he rolled his hips forward, pushing the Inquisitor further down into the messy array of sheets below them.

Lavellan groaned from where he lay, almost flat against the bed. With what little strength he had, he pushed down against the sheets, lifting the tender curve of his arse to meet with his lover’s thrusts. With the next, he found himself collapsing into the blankets again, face hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

The Inquisitor played a tough game when he was on top, testing every muscle in his lover’s body as he touched and teased him for what felt like hours. When he found himself on the receiving end, however, Dorian always knew exactly how to put him in his place.

Rough fingers laced themselves through Lavellan’s dishevelled hair and pulled harshly, forcing his back to arch as he was pulled upwards. Dorian’s hot breath fanned across his cheek as he groaned into his ear, “Amatus.”

Lavellan’s mouth hung agape as his moans echoed from wall to wall. At least half of Skyhold would hear them, that they knew for certain. Liliana had already had quite an uncomfortable conversation with their beloved Herald about their nightly antics, taking great care in ensuring the Inquisitor knew quite the extent of the rumours which had begun spreading into every corner of Thedas.

He had been bewitched, they had begun to speculate. Seduced by an evil Imperium Magister who wished to taint the holy Inquisition with blood magic and make the Herald of Andraste his slave.

Dorian had laughed at this, amused that the world believed he had been the seducer. If anyone had asked he would not have said anything otherwise but, in truth, he was the one who had been seduced. Seduced by the charm of the man who currently resided beneath him. Seduced by his kind heart and desire for change. Seduced by his delicate waist and devious smirk.

His thrusts grew stronger as he released the elf’s hair, watching him fall down onto his pretty little face once again as he was fucked so hard the headboard began to bang loudly against the wall.

Lavellan writhed beneath him, raising a hand to his mouth as he bit down on his own flesh, trying to stifle his cries. Tears had begun to spill onto his cheeks and, with one harsh thrust, Dorian knew he had come undone. Still, he rocked into him at an unforgiving pace, smearing the juices which had since spilt out onto the bedsheets across his lower body.

His dear Amatus may have been pushed to the edge already but he needed to hang on for just a little while longer. Cassandra would have words with him in the morning for certain. Although she was reluctant to bring it up, she was always concerned when the Inquisitor trod across Thedas with a slight limp.

“Please, Dorian…” his voice was hushed and broken as his knuckles whitened, gripping the edge of his soft pillow for dear life.

He was red-raw and sore all over but he could already feel his spent cock hardening again as it rubbed back and forth against the bed below him. Unconsciously, he found himself rutting slightly, craving more friction.

Dorian hushed him, his pace not once faltering, and reached around to grant his Amatus the touch he so craved.

The Inquisitor cried out again at the overstimulation. He was so, so sensitive. Too sensitive after how many times he had already came. It had been a long night. Such a long night. But it was almost over.

“I know, Amatus. I know. Just. A. Little. More.” He punctuated each word with a snap of his hips before finally spilling his load with a long, dark groan.

Lavellan was unmoving when his lover finally pulled out of him and Dorian couldn’t help but smile as he realised he had passed out from sheer exhaustion. He was sure to be repaid in full as soon as the Inquisitor regained his strength. In fact, he was already looking forward to it.

His fingers lightly moved the drapes of hair that had fallen over his lover’s face and leaned forward, gently kissing his temple. He wiped away the tears that still glistened against his cheeks and gently began to clean him up.

[broodwolf221]

dadwc prompts and info [updated 11/15/24]

see -> here <- for information about davg characters and ships

general info:

no character death

pls specify prompt list ur using

ot3/poly prompts welcome

platonic or solo prompts also welcome

although i will write things inspired by davg, PLEASE do not send me any prompts that contain plot spoilers ❤️

au:

the dread scapegoat: in this au setup, dirthamen is the dread wolf, but solas takes on the mantle to protect him; he also carries much of the burden. but it is more about a rebellion brewing within the evanuris rather than one enacted from outside it

general prompts:

rare/unusual words (mine, but feel rb/use it yourself!)

sentences

micro story (please send the word/phrase)

medieval/fantasy sentences

deep conversations

people who aren't used to kindness

vague prompts: eerie edition

quote prompts:

as said by cassandra pentaghast

as said by dorian pavus

as said by solas

as said by merrill

fluff/romance/smut prompts:

fluff

50 types of kisses

sleeping

cuddles and snuggles

smutfic (please send word/phrase)

kinktober (will accept any but day 16/flashing)

angst/whump prompts:

what are you hiding from me?

eerie loneliness

heavy content (mine, but feel free to rb/use it yourself!)

patching up wounds

other prompts:

oc codex

fantasy setting

characters:

ocs - nessa lavellan | velari lavellan | atros shiral | delwyn lavellan | dimitra | valyris lavellan | halcor brosca | feydis lavellan | liall talas | daw aldwir

dai - solas | varric | cassandra | sera | dorian | the iron bull | cole | leliana | morrigan | cullen | josephine | calpernia | flemythal | renn | valta | ameridan | talena | harding

da2 - anders(justice) | fenris | merrill

dao - leliana | morrigan

arlathan - mythal | andruil | ghilan'nain

relationships (ot3+ are welcome!):

solas x (daw | nessa | velari | atros | valyris | varric | cassandra | cullen | bull | dorian | morrigan | calpernia | mythal* | andruil* | ghilan'nain*)

anders x fenris

cassandra x (varric | sera | leliana | solas)

dorian x (feydis | bull | solas)

morrigan x (halcor | leliana | solas)

sera x (delwyn | dagna | cassandra)

cullen x (dimitra | solas | dorian)

ghilan'nain x (andruil* | solas*)

*messy/complicated ships, might end up in dead dove territory

major ocs:

nessa lavellan (f!rogue, solas)

velari lavellan (f!mage, solas)

atros shiral (m!rogue; city elf!inquisitor, solas)

delwyn lavellan (f!rogue, sera)

valyris lavellan (f!mage, solas)

liall talas (f!mage, dalish, warden, no romance)

feydis lavellan (m!mage, dorian)

dimitra (non-inky, f!mage(/templar), cullen)

halcor brosca (m!rogue, morrigan then nate)

daw aldwir (info)

quick oc info:

nessa - soft, stubborn af, has a daughter with solas, peaceful family life, insomuch as it can be

velari - complicated, guilt-ridden, kinky, power couple

atros - so complicated, loads of trauma, volatile, passionate about justice, on solas' side no matter what

delwyn - young, silly, grows a lot, balanced, ends up becoming a very good leader, all in for sera

valyris - older, reserved, contemplative, quick judgements but willing to reassess, non-magic healer (healer has the bloodiest hands), leads from a distance bc she's scared of caring

liall - body horror warden who's into it, macabre and morbid, curiosity as a character flaw

feydis - steady, passionate, righteous fury but very, very deep inside him, quick, dry wit

dimitra - self-sufficient, guarded, expected to become a templar but magic manifested, ended up in the circle, so many confrontations with her assumptions that she couldn't possibly count them all

halcor - rough around the edges, a bit ends justify the means, good at heart but doesn't lose sleep over bad choices, matter of fact, heart eyes about magic

MINOR DAVG SPOILERS:

daw - a veil jumper, daw has a complex history with the dread wolf - not a personal history, but a spiritual one. after being recruited by varric, they are desperate to stop solas, whatever the cost... but over time, they begin to understand him and realize that they want to save him

[rosella-writes]

secret relationship prompt for Cassandra x Solas:

“we shouldn’t be doing this. not now, not here.”

And for @n7viper too! Thank you 🥰

Rated T, mention of fantasy racism against elves

~~~

Cassandra Pentaghast was a strong, tall vision of elegance in uniform. Of all in attendance at the Winter Palace from the Inquisition, she seemed to be the only one who knew how to carry herself in such clothing — she had had experience, after all, as Right Hand to the Divine. She knew how to be paraded about as an example of someone’s might. Justinia or the Herald? There was no difference.

In contrast, Solas was here as the elven serving man. What did he know of elegance and poise?

He pretended not to know during a stolen moment with her behind the curtain, near the garden windows. She held her breath as he tugged at her earlobe with worrying teeth. 

“We should not be doing this,” she gasped. The press of her knee between his legs belied the warning in her words, as did the smile on her blushed face. 

“Not now?” he asked, with all the gravity as one would have if asking about the weather. “Or not here? Or not at all?”

She hushed him with a sudden grasp at his lapel and a flash of her steely eyes — she raised a finger, her focus extending beyond the curtains they hid behind. Solas held his breath, listening for the footsteps that had drawn near to fade away. 

“Too close,” Cassandra breathed. 

Solas lowered his eyes to her mouth, then back up to meet her gaze. “Why? This is Orlais, Seeker. Of all places, this is the last you should fear judgement from should you be discovered fraternising with an elf.”

“You know I do not think of you that —”

He hushed her with a hurried kiss upon her scarred mouth. Her cheeks were flushed red when he pulled away, and her eyes sparkled. 

“It matters not,” he chuckled. “I know you do not. But in Orlais, my pointed ears make me fit only for two things. Which shall it be tonight, Seeker?”

She struck him playfully on the shoulder, and her sound of disgust was one he would remember fondly. “I will not hear it. You speak so rudely.”

“It is Orlais,” he corrected, “which is rude. That is putting it lightly. But enough whispering in the dark — I wish to have you.”

The Seeker practically giggled — her grip on his jacket had rumpled it, and she caused even more damage when she slid her hand between his buttons and into the warmth just above his heart. 

“I will not be had,” she drawled, pressing flush against him, “not against a windowsill, and not in these getups. Certainly not while you wear that terrible helmet.”

Solas hummed his dissatisfaction, and voiced it loud enough to court danger when she mouthed a line of kisses up his throat to his earlobe. She was usually so withdrawn and careful with her affection, shy, even — wine and frustration with their lot at court had broken down many of her reservations. 

“But when we are done,” she whispered, her lips brushing their promise against his skin, “my room is past the Inquisitor’s, on the left.”

Solas chuckled. “Shall I bring flowers? Candles? Poetry?”

“You had better,” she scolded, then pushed him away.

[nethertrolls]

My Dragon Age save world goes as followed btw

Warden Cousland x Alistair who ends up being Queen and King of Ferelden, they had twins because I said so and it’s my self-indulgent save world.

My Hawke saved most if not all the purple dialogue choices and is with Fenris and they end up reuniting after everything is said and done in Inquisition. Since Alistair was King, my fade choice was pretty easy ngl lol.

My Inquisitor is Lavellan and he romanced Dorian, accepting Sera’s offer to become a Red Jenny but I guess that changes a bit in Veilguard lmaooo. Oh and Cassandra is Divine Victoria. The Inquisition was not disbanded.

My Veilguard canon is Rook De Riva, a crow obviously who romances Lucanis so my choice is as pretty much obvious. Also an elf lol

[seigephoenix]

A Taste of the Divine

So I wrote this for a DADWC prompt but then realized I misread the entire fucking thing. I swear next week I'll do this whole thing sober, maybe then I won't make a mistake again. XD

Ship: Ashwyn Lavellan x Leliana Content Warning: oral, teasing, unedited smut for your reading pleasure Length: ~2k

“Hey Inquisitor, did you see this?”  Ashwyn looked up as Bull held a piece of paper in her face, disturbing her meditation.  She grabbed it from him and studied it.  “When did you learn to read Common?”

“My clan wasn’t as isolated as many other Dalish clans.  I learned from a passing merchant that traveled with us for a season.” Ashwyn narrowed her eyes at the words and her eyebrows shot up.  “How did you get this Bull?”  She handed him the paper back.

“The papers appeared mysteriously under everyone’s doors this morning.  I wonder if they’re just not charging us for this one before extorting us once we’re hooked.”  Ashwyn laughed at how disgruntled he looked.  “If you want to hear my opinion?”

“Please tell.  I love some good gossip, especially about the nobility.”  She grinned at him as he leaned down to whisper his theory in her ear.  “Huh, are you certain?”  He nodded.  “Why would they write about your nightly escapades with Dorian?  Almost the entire castle can hear you two, it’s not exactly a secret.”

“Don’t go telling Dorian that.  He’s all up in arms and grumbling about how we have to find a new spot since someone wants to write about us.”  Ashwyn’s shoulders shook from her laughs that she muffled with her hand.

“By everyone do you mean?”

“Everyone in your private circle and you advisors.  The Commander nearly choked on his coffee this morning thinking he had a report.”  Ashwyn doubled over at the thought.  Poor Cullen.

“Well, at least it hasn’t reached outsiders unless someone shares.” She studied the handwriting before gasping.  “I didn’t receive one of these.”

“You didn’t?  Why send it to everyone else except you?  Unless you wrote them.  Did you boss?” Bull leaned against the tree as he grinned down at the elf.  She glared up at him with those lavender eyes of hers.  He grinned in answer.

“Honestly, I’d have written about my own escapades rather than yours,” Ashwyn informed him in a prim tone that reminded Bull of Chantry sisters.  He chuckled and straightened as she rose from her spot against the tree.  “I’ll see if I can’t find who it is.”

“We think it’s Varric.” Bull looked at her as she gave him a lopsided grin.  “What?  Even the Seeker says it’s him.”

“Have you asked?” Bull opened his mouth before he shut it and shook his head.  “Let’s go ask.”

They made their way into the grand hall and saw Varric surrounded by Dorian, Cassandra, and Vivienne.  “I’m telling you, it isn’t me!”  Varric held up his hands as Dorian crossed his arms.

“I find that incredibly hard to believe Varric.”  Ashwyn stepped around the three and stood next to Varric.  “Inquisitor, will you please tell Varric to leave my love life out of his notes?”

“And I’m telling you Sparkler, it wasn’t me.”  Ashwyn placed her hand on Varric’s shoulder.  “You gotta believe me Inquisitor.”

“I do.  The person who wrote the letter isn’t Varric.”  Dorian drew up in outrage.  “Come off it Dorian, you read Varric’s attempts at erotica.”

“Oh.  That, that is true.”  Dorian grasped his chin as he recalled how Varric wrote the sex scenes in his smutty book.  The two didn’t add up at all.  “Then who could it have been?”

“Thank you for believing in me Inquisitor.  Honestly, whoever did write this is a better smut author than I am.  Maybe I can contract them out to finish my series.”  Ashwyn gave him a sardonic smile and he shrugged in answer.  “A guy can dream can’t he?”

“If it isn’t Varric, then who is it?  Are all our love lives available for this person?”  Vivienne asked quietly as she stood with her hands clasped in front of her.  She appeared regal but Ashwyn noted how tense her shoulders were.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this.”  Ashwyn promised.  “Now, I need the rest of you to have a little faith in me.  Can you do that?” Ashwyn gave them a broad smile.

“I suppose we can.  You wouldn’t let something like this go after all,” Cassandra admitted and the small gathering broke up with only Ashwyn and Varric left standing there.

“You know who it is don’t you Inquisitor?”  Varric demanded and Ashwyn gave him a serene smile.  “Hah, I’d love to be a fly on the wall for this confrontation.”  He laughed as she walked back towards her quarters and summoned all her advisors at one point during the evening.

“You wanted to see me my lady?” Leliana asked quietly as she passed Josephine who was giddy at the prospect of the letter.  She arched an elegant eyebrow before turning and moving towards Ashwyn’s desk.

“Is Josephine gone?” Leliana looked down the stairs and saw the door shut.  She nodded.  “Good.”  Ashwyn turned and gave her a stern glare that melted into a fit of laughter at her incredulous look.  “Come off it Spymaster, I recognized your handwriting.”  Leliana froze for just a fraction of a second and Ashwyn tilted her head with a smile and hands clasped behind her back.

“I see.  When did you figure it out?”

“When Bull shoved it in my face.  Did you know that Dorian believes you wrote about his and Bull’s escapades?” Leliana looked so offended that Ashwyn almost broke into peals of laughter.  “I have to know why you decided to publish it.”

“I didn’t.  One of my pages must have dropped down from the rookery.  I do not part with them so easily my lady.”  Ashwyn leaned back against her desk as she crossed her arms.

“My next question.  If you did not choose to write about Dorian and Bull, then what were you saying?  To me the two lovers had no gender in the story.”  Leliana wrung her fingers together as she listened to Ashwyn speaking.  “It’s beautifully written.  I can see the love shared between the two.”

“I did not write about Bull and Dorian.” Leliana spoke quietly and Ashwyn leaned in to listen closer.

“Then who?”  Ashwyn hastily straightened when Leliana stepped closer to her.  Her heart thudded in her chest as Leliana leaned in close until their noses were touching.

“Did you not recognize yourself in there Ashwyn?”  The flush crept up Ashwyn’s neck at Leliana’s words.  She had suspected but didn’t want to say so, it seemed like something so far out of her reach to think about.  Leliana’s hand came up and gently cupped Lavellan’s cheek.  “I wrote about us.”

“Us?  But, you said there could be no us.” Ashwyn grasped the edge of her desk as she braced her weight against the sturdy wood.  Ashwyn remembered the day she’d confessed to Leliana, and had been casually brushed off.  It cut her deep but she continued to try and make Leliana take her seriously.

“I was a fool.  A fool determined to get my revenge on the people who took someone I cared deeply away from me.”  Leliana tilted Ashwyn’s face towards hers when she tried to look away.  “I can’t deny that I feel the same way about you.  It would be inappropriate for us to become involved, given our positions.”

“Like I give a.”  Leliana touched her finger to her lips, silencing the rest of her words.  A devilish idea came to her and she parted her lips only to close them over Leliana’s fingers.

“You are incorrigible.”  Leliana chuckled as she pulled her finger away, but not before she suppressed the shiver down her back.  It had been years since she’d been so close to someone, nerves danced along her belly as she looked into Lavellan’s pale purple eyes.  The color of a lavender blossom.

“So I’ve been told.”  Ashwyn lifted her hand and wrapped her fingers around Leliana’s wrist, bringing her palm to her lips to press an open mouthed kiss there.  “Are you going to accept me?  All of me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure Ashwyn.” Leliana whispered as her lips brushed against hers.  A whisper soft caress that had Ashwyn craving more.  Her lips parted on a trembling breath and Leliana merely smiled and touched her tongue to that plump bottom lip.  “What’s the matter?”

“You’re evil,” Ashwyn whispered as Leliana leaned back leaving her a quivering mess.  She whined before Leliana intertwined their fingers and tugged until Ashwyn followed to her bed.

“Evil implies I am merely teasing you my lady.”  Leliana’s hand cupped the front of Ashwyn’s throat when she leaned in to nibble along her jaw.  “I fully intend to follow through with my promises.”  Ashwyn swallowed and Leliana smirked against her warm skin.  Her free hand reached between them and tugged at the clasps in front of Lavellan’s shirt, until her hand rested between her breasts.  She glanced down and saw the freckles decorating her skin and wanted to trail kisses all over them.

“How did?” Leliana leaned in until her lips brushed across Ashwyn’s in a whisper soft caress.  “Leliana.”

“I’m not holding your hands hostage my lady.  If you wish to touch, you have my permission.”  Leliana chuckled when Lavellan’s hands reached up and pulled.  She released her throat to help her lift the overcoat off her body.  Their hands did not stop moving until they stood in front of the bed with nothing hidden from each other’s gaze.

“You are beautiful,” Leliana whispered as she sat down on the bed.  Ashwyn grinned and in a lightning quick move, shoved Leliana to the bed.  “Ashwyn!”  Leliana propped herself up on her elbows as Ashwyn knelt on the floor in front of her.  Her lips nibbled on the inside of her thigh.  Leliana let out a slow breath as the heat pulsed low between her legs.

“Yes?”  Leliana reached for her but Ashwyn swatted her hand away.  “Did you lock the door behind you?”

“Ugh, no.  I forgot to.” Leliana groaned as her head fell back against the mattress.  She would never forget again.

“Hmm, so I can’t take my time.  That’s perfectly fine with me.”  Ashwyn smirked as her hands pushed her thighs apart to settle between them.

“It is not alright with me,” Leliana huffed as she looked down at her.

“Well, next time lock the door behind you.”  Her lips trailed down Leliana’s stomach, nibbling at the trembling there.  She passed over her soaked and aching folds.  She heard the slight curse from the Spymaster and smirked against her skin as she nibbled on the inside of her thigh.

“As if it’s that simple.” Leliana hissed as Ashwyn nipped at her skin.  “Now who’s being evil?”

“As you said, evil implies I don’t mean to follow through.”  Ashwyn left a trail of nibbling kisses up the inside of her thighs until her lips settled over her sensitive bundle of nerves.  She groaned as she felt how hot her body was underneath her tongue.  Leliana tangled her fingers in Ashwyn’s dark hair.  Ashwyn teased her clit with the tip of her tongue before sealing her lips and relishing in her hips bucking against her face.  Leliana’s voice sang out through her room, Ashwyn didn’t even care if they heard them outside.  She just wanted to hear more, wanted to taste more.  Lavellan slipped two fingers into her hot body, smirking against her clit when Leliana clenched around them.

Leliana arched her back as the burn coiled low and tight between her legs, pulsing in a slow ache.  Her heels dug in the mattress as she reached for that pinnacle.  “Ashwyn.  Please.”  Leliana’s head fell back as the coil burst in languid waves of heat.

Ashwyn groaned as she felt Leliana’s body spasming around her fingers and her thighs squeezed her head.  She eased her through the waves until her legs stopped trembling.  She placed a gentle kiss just above Leliana’s still throbbing clit and slid up her body, trailing gentle kisses up until her lips met Leliana’s in an achingly sweet kiss.

Lavellan let out a startled laugh when Leliana flipped them and straddled her waist.  Her fingers trailed down between her breasts, spreading her fingers out over the soft curves of her breasts.  “Now it’s my turn dear lady.” Leliana whispered with an impish gleam in her eyes.

They both paused when they heard the swift intake of breath.  They turned their heads to the side and saw Josephine holding her clipboard in front of her face.  “I saw nothing!!  I promise!”

Ashwyn dropped her head back onto the mattress and Leliana sighed before looking down at her again.  “I will lock the door next time.  I forget how popular you are.”

[bryants-things]

So this is my first fanfic. It’s a one shot from the Emerald Graves. I like the idea that my Inky is not invulnerable, that he’s a person who at times just loose patience. I my head cannon Solas managed to stop the anchor by using my inky’s mana instead of feeding of his body. So when he runs out of Mana things can get rather dramatic. I like having my companions relate to one another so I took the opportunity to write some scenes how they are getting along. Slowly learning to trust each other and making unlikely friendships, so here it is my first fanfic:

Under thé canope:

Maharon strech, his left arm tingling after closing one too many breaches. It seems they can head in any direction and run into one.

With good reason of course the emerald graves is where the elves made their last stand. Here among these dense forest is where the Dalish started the veil is thin from all the death this place has seen. “You alright bouncy?” Varric sais. The dalish mage seems lost in thought absentmindedly rubbing his left arm and the scar is pulsing angry, might have been to many. They all know what happens when he close to many breaches. Varric remember that night in the Hinterlands, they woke up to Lavellan screaming the anchor glowing in the dark. Varric has no desire to relive that night and he’s pretty sure it ain’t at the top of Lavellan’s list either. Vary he approach the elf, ready to bolt if the anchor should flare up.

He’s the hight of Lavellan’s chest knowing full well that neither elf nor dwarf are tall examples of their species.

“Yes, I’m fine just tired.” Maharon meets Varric’s gaze, the dwarf look worried.

“I don’t blame you , we seem to be swimming in demons, this place lives up to it’s reputation. I’m slightly worried it will end up be our graves to.”

Varric gestures to the anchor. Maharon put his hand on his back.

“It’s not that bad the forest has a sad beauty don’t you think? Either way it beats the wastes by a long shot.”

Lavellan give him one of those cheeky smiles. The white lines of His valaslin curles around his nose. He puts a hand on Varric’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about my friend.”

The elf walks of to help Cassandra with the tents. Varric can’t shake the feeling that something is off, the anchor have been getting bigger lately. And although Lavellan those not seem any more bothered by the ancient magic invading his body than usual. There is never a thing as too careful especially when the Inqusitor is involved.

“Solas” Varric sais and head over to the apostate, the elf looks up, Solas is taller than Lavellan and Varric just about reach to his elbow. “What is the matter child of the stone?”

Varric huffs he despises the mage’s need to be more knowledgeable than anyone else, always the clever words and formal approach. But he respect Solas when it comes to all things magic.

“Bouncy seem a bit off, the anchor is well it looks angry.” Varric gesture towards the elf at the other side of camp again rubbing his arm.

“ It has been a long day with a lot of breaches, our Inquisitor might simply be tired. He most certainly took a bit of a beating from that despair demon could be he’s bruised as well. And this place does have a rather grim meaning for the Dalish. It seem to me that we should not worry to much. He’s gotten a lot stronger, I believe he can handle the anchor just fine. “

Always with the long speeches Varric thinks. “I suppose you are right. I just got this gut feeling something is not right.”

“ Hmm alright I generally do not follow the advice of inner organs. But I do value your input Varric, I will keep an eye out just in case. But he generally is not fond of being watched. So he might not take it all that well.”

“ Rather a grumpy Inquisitor than a dead one, thank you Solas”

“Indeed”

Varric head back to making the campfire. Dorian joins him the normally well groomed hair is messy and coverd in grass. “ looks like you found the ground face down vint”

“Well yes I did I turns out pride demons rather dislike having fireballs thrown at them”

“You don’t say” Varric laugh.

“Anyway please tell me we have something more interesting than camp rations one the menu today” Dorian grimace and sits next to the dwarf.

“Got a bit of left over nug from yesterday and some potatoes it will at least beef up the camp mush” Varric sais. Dorian huff.

“What’s wrong not up to your fancy standards”

“You know as well as I that waging a war on an empty belly is not a good idea. But it could not hurt that the food tasted a bit less like dust. I am gonna beg Bull for one of his ales it might help the flavor of nothing else”

“ How will that help?” Varric asked.

“Have you tasted qunari brew it will deprive you of your tastebuds”

“Ha, I like your sense of humor Dorian”

“Well thank you but I am afraid that was deadly serious.” Dorian smile and head towards the qunari.

The tents are up Varric has dinner going. Sera is of getting water. Finally some rest Maharon thinks. He sinks down on a stump, the camp is nestled on a hill overlooking the fores and the river it’s a rather nice view. He’s generally the first one to set up camp, in the clan no one is idle. But he’s tired and his arm hurts more than he likes to admit so right now he is happy to just take two minutes to breathe. The rush of shighs is just on the other side of the river although the area is crawling with giants so they decided to get some rest and move on tomorrow. Still Maharon feels drawn to that hill. But it has to wait the despair demon hit him hard he’s on no condition to start trekking of on his own. He head back to camp and take his pack of the pantient horse. Granted she is no Halla but so far this gentle but dense creature has treated him well. He pats her on her neck. One of the inquisitions soliders is tending to their mounts. So he starts finding his way to the closest tent. Set up your stuff eat and sleep he thinks. He throws a smile at Varric as the pass by, the dwarf seems nervous probably worried about the anchor which is the last thing Maharon needs now. A smile tend to be an effective way to fain his condition so it will have to do. He start by unpacking his bedroll, taking his time not wanting any attention. He finds his healing kit. A brown wooden box, which he can just about fit in his hands. He should have a bit of warning balm left. Despair demons attack with a nasty ice blast. It’s not lethal by any stretch of the imagination so no need to call in the healer. But Mahoran is out of potions until supplies show up tomorrow, so this will have to do. He grabs a small glass container with a red balm. It smells of brimstone and embrium He then peel his shirt of. Getting to work on his right shoulder. He had his back turned when then demon attack. An although he can hear well he cannot be everywhere at once. He lets out a bit of a sigh, the warming balm offer instant relief. He takes the opportunity to check the rest of his chest and belly nothing major a few scrapes and a red mark just above his belly button that will most definitely bruise. He finds his shirt and grab the glass of balm. Solas was quick with a barrier when the despair demon hit Mahoran and although the older mage almost never complain he must have been hit. He’s about to head out of the tent when Cassandra shows up and pass him her pack behind her back. Mahoran laughs, although their relationship is no secret the seeker is still careful with putting things on display. Not that he minds all that much. With all this hero business Cassandra Pentghast is one of the few good things in his life that he does not have to share. She smiles and reach out to stoke his ear. He leans in for a gentle kiss. By Mythal does he love this woman.

Solas is setting up his bedroll as well, calm and collected as always. Although they do not always agree , in fact sometimes the disagree loudly . Mahoran have come to respect the older elf.

“on deha’lam Lelathin” Solas have been calling him lelathin for a few weeks now. But this is the first time Maharon feel he can use the title “friend” with respect. The elven language is built around titles and they all demand a certain level of respect and kinship to use them.

“On deha’lam lelathin” Solas smile it has taken the younger elf some time to go from professional to friendly although Solas has no trouble understanding why he was thrown in to the center of this war with no choice in the matter. He had to give up his entire past and future to save Thedas. And although he’s Dalish in many ways that Solas do not care for. The Herald has proven to be both brave and willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

“How are you after that despair demon?” Solas gesture towards his right shoulder.

“Nothing a bit of heating balm and a good nights sleep can’t cure, I’le live. You took the brunt of the hit. Ma seramas by the way and here.” Maharon hand Solas the heating balm. Solas open the glass jar and smell the content.

“What’s this?” Solas wrinkle his nose from the smell, he shoots Maharon a curious look.

“Ise Hial, ma lelathin, we are out of healing potion. I have a bit left from atlhan “

Heating liquid Solas thinks, clever the brimstone heats the skin and the embrium flower soothe.

“Your knowledge of nature is impressive, ma seranas, but are you sure you should let me have the rest?”

“Vin, there is plenty of embrium round here and if we can find that dragons nest I should be able to make some more.” Maharon smiles to himself he almost never impress Solas. And the older elf have a view of the Dalish elves that usually lead to arguments. Maharon has nothing against neither city elves nor apostates. He is however proud of his heritage and firmly believe in many of the Dalish and by extension the eleven traditions, he is first of his clan for a reason. And having Solas, Sera and basically every human in the inquisition not just question his faith but outright mock him. Is difficult, in fact being Dalish in the middle of a human war is not just difficult it’s damn right awful at times. So a little recognition never hurts.

“Lelathin, may I ask how you feel? There have been quite a few breeches the last few days.”

And just like that it all went Maharon thinks he knows Solas mean well he also knows that to the older elf closing the breech is the main priority and since Maharon is the only one with that ability, him staying alive long enough to save everybody is well everyone’s concern. But he is not entirely sure what happens to him after the breech is closed is important to any of them. Via Cassandra, and of course he understands it’s just not easy being considered a means to an end.

“I’m fine a little tried I must admit like the rest of us.”

That’s it keep reminding Solas that you are flesh and blood to, not just a weapon. Solas pick up on the annoyed thone in the Herald’s voice, although the Herald is no child he is sometimes shortsighted when it comes to his own importantance. Or maybe he is simply tired or a little of both. Solas has seen the graves in walks in the fade and know the heavy weight that lies here. They say every tree in this forest is planted to mark the death of a Dalish elf. And the whole area those seem to affect the Herald somewhat.

“That’s good to hear. Lelathin, you are most definitely right we could all do with some rest” Solas watch him shrug and walk off. Again rubbing his arm, he must keep a close eye on the Herald tonight. Solas fear the consequences if he should loose control of the anchor. And he is growing rather fond of the younger elf, although he knows full well that the anchor will kill him he would rather it didn’t.

“Thank you Sera” Maharon watch as Sera pass Varric the water.

“Should be enough until morrow, granted that you all fill your own soddin water skins” Sera dump down next to the fire.

“I think we can manage that.” Maharon smile at the city elf. She gives him one of those annoyed smiles back. He sits down next to Dorian.

“Evening Herald.” Dorian is sporting a nasty bruise at the side of his face and no small amount of dirt.

“Evening Dorian are you alright?”

“A bit bruised as you can see, but nothing some qunari brew can’t cure, want some”

Dorian offer him a bottle.

“No thanks last time I drunk that I could barely stand on my feet.”

“Ha I remember, I had to carry you to Cassandra”

Iron Bull dump down beside them. Even sitting the qunari tower over them. Maharon had never seen a qunari before the Inquisition, and he must admit he was vary in the beginning but Iron Bull has proven to be loyal and fun loving. And Maharon is rather fond of him.

“ Not my proudest moment but at least I beat Cullen’s walk off shame”

“Ha that you did Herald” Dorian laughs.

“Ugh” Cassandra rolls her eyes.

“I can always trust you four to talk about things that should not be said out loud” She does say it with a smile though.

“C’mon venahn we are merely having some fun.” Cassandra smile and lean in for a kiss. «And those any of these fun stories involve me?”

“No I believe we are the only ones up for roasting tonight.” She smiles and find a seat by the fire. Varric start passing out bowls of “camp mush” as they have dubbed.

“Gotta do some hunt’n soon ‘‘tis food ain’t good for anybody”

“So even red Jenny has standards. “

Vivienne come sauntering up to the fire.

“I know what good eat’n is when I see it and ‘tis ain’t good eat’n”

“For once I am inclined to agree with you”

“Prrt” Dorian spits his brew.

“Ha, I know right us bitches no what we like.”

Sera throw her head back for one of those loud but hearty laughs.

Vivienne smiles at her, it’s odd how people from so many different places can find common ground but the fact is Maharon’s inner circle is slowly becoming a good team. He scoops spoonfuls of camp mush. Although tasteless it satisfies. The clan would share all their food and it was never surplus. And as such Mahoran is not picky as long as his belly is full he’s happy. Still he has favorites, apples, Dalish cheese and bread. But most of all chocolate he tasted it first time at Skyhold Jospephine has some sent from Antiva the sweet bitter taste was overwhelming and he can’t help himself it’s so good. If he ever get back home he’s gonna bring a crate of the stuff. Maharon strech and watch the sun get low in the sky. Dorian is yawing the food is gone and the ale supply is diminishing by the second.

“I think I will retire” Dorian stands up, rolling his shoulders and holding back a yawn. “So how am I sharing with today, no one that snores I hope.”

“Good cause qunari don’t snore we rattle the very earth beneath us.” Iron Bull winks at Dorian.

Dorian rolls his eyes.

“Right so no sleep for me, alas good night everyone.” He walks off with a bit of a huff. Iron Bull give a short nod and follow him.

“I’le take first watch. You want second sparkles?” Varric gesture to Dorian.

“Sure sign me up.”

“I take third watch then.” Solas sais as he sends one last look the Inquisitor’s way, the elf is currently leaning on a log by the fire, his anchored hand resting on his knee. The lady seeker is next to him stealing glances of a very different nature, it is clear for those who look that they are enjoying each other’s company. Solas nods at the lady seeker and head of to bed.

Cassandra catch the gaze of Solas, the apostate is looking at the Inqusitor. He looks concerned and give her a short nod in Maharon’s direction. She nods back. Shooting a sideways glance at the anchor, its getting bigger and she knows it’s causing him pain.

“I’le take last watch then”

That way she can keep her eleven mage safe if the anchor should flare up. Cassandra is slowly starting to admit to herself that the Inqusitor means a lot more to her than she first thought. He’s got this sweet charm to him, accompanied by bravery and no small amount of pride. He’s not perfect by any means but he is an attentive lover and a sharp mind, and Cassandra can’t get enough.

“I think I am going to get to bed as well.” Maharon stand up and stretch, he smiles at Cassandra knowing she will follow him soon enough.

“Good night”

“Night” Varric answer.

He waves and walk off leaving the crackling fire for the now quiet camp. Mahoran is found of the night especially after joining the inquisition he finds the quiet safe and unassuming.

It starts as tingle, the same prickeling pain as when

he’s close to a breach, but there is no breech close.

Pins and needles stretch the length of his arm. He can feel the raw fade magic pressing against his own. Peeling away his mana. Scared he force a ward trough the pain just above his shoulder he must prevent the anchor from reaching his Vallaslin.

He’s always got some extra mana in his Vallaslin but cutting it off with a ward will leave his arm open to the raw magic.

Still it’s a risk he must take, again the pulse rips trough this time a thousand nails pierce his skin or at least it feels like it. He screams and drop to his knees, again forcing a ward this time just above his elbow. And the magic fights back, which make his own magic spark in response.

Cassandra is still by the fire not wanting to join Mahoran to quickly, when the hair stand on her neck. She bolts towards their tent, she’s learned long since what his magic feels like and the scream that follow confirm her fears, he’s on his knees the mark glowing and with each pulse it sends green magic up his arm. “Mahoran! I’m here, it’s going to be okay just breathe”

Cassandra approach with caution, she loves her mage but she must admit his power scare her. And she knows full well how much damage the mark the can cause. He looks at her, green eyes filled with pain.

He can hear her, by Mythal he wants to answer but there is too much pain. He forces through another ward, this time under the elbow. “Fendis”

The word is more a gasp than anything else. Fuck it’s hurts. He can vaguely hear the others, Dorian is first to the scene his voice breaking through, “Inqusitor are you alright, what’s happening Cassandra?”

“I don’t know his mark is spreading, I don’t know why. Dorian do something please”

“Ahh.” Mahoran is in no condition to do this he’s tired and low on mana he’s not gonna be able to this for very long. The anchor flares again and he’s got no defense. It’s back up to his shoulder again,

“No you cannot loose control, you just need to suppress the anchor with your own magic” He thinks to himself, and builds magic you force another ward. Biting his lip until it bleed. Somehow the ward works.

“Dorian get Solas I will stay with him”

“I’m on it”.

Dorian runs off.

Cassandra scoop him into her arms, to hell with the anchor he’s never hurt her before why would he now. He’s bit his lip again, she noticed he tends to when he’s in pain.

Mahoran can feel her strong arms around him, a kiss on his forehead, he needs to stop the anchor now. As on cue the thing flares sending painful surges through his body.

“Solas wake up!”

“What’s the matter”

Solas poke his head through the tent flap. Dorian got a worried look on his face, panting as he’s been running.

“The inquisitor, his mark just come on”

Solas is quick on his feet and they are both running to the other side of Camp. A scream pierce the night, an almost animalistic sounds full of pain and fear. By the time they get there the Inqusitor is supported by Cassandra, his pupils dialateted ears pressed close to his skull. The anchor is sending green pluses up his arm and every time his electric magic spark in response. His Vallaslin glowing faintly. He’s clearly in a lot of pain. Solas reach out with his magic to the younger elf. He can sense that he’s running low on mana and stamina. But he can also sense the ward he’s got up, he must be trying to suppress the anchor. Then an idea hit Solas. “Vivienne” He calls out.

“Yes Darling?” She must have heard all the commotion. “.

“You have some experience with mana regeneration?”

“I do although I’m not sure how that will help”

“Our Inquisitor has the capability of controlling the anchor, but he is running out of mana, I’m hoping a mana boost will help him achieve that.”

“ I see’ let’s see what we can do”

Mahoran’s wards are too weak. “Fendis I don’t want to die.” But there’s nothing left, it feels like the anchor is tearing him apart.

Then there’s another magical presence, he can feel the rush of a mana regain. Vivienne is pumping magic in to his system, not a lot she’s running low herself but just enough for him to gain some control. With a grunt he force a ward up just above his wrist. It hurts, fen harel’s sweaty balls it hurts. But it works, the anchor’s magic is fading. He’s beaten and bruised from the experience but, he’ll live to fight another day.

“Vivienne?” His voice thick with exhaustion.

“None other my dear”

He looks around Cassandra still got him in her arms. Vivienne is crouching just above, him. Solas and Dorian behind her looking worried.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra stroke a hair behind his are, her beautiful features locked in a frown.

“Well…” “Might as well be honest they’ve been through too much together to not trust each other” He thinks to himself.

“No, but I will be I just need a stiff drink and about a a week of sleep” He sais with a cheeky smile.

. “Typical you would brush it off like nothing” Cassandra huffs.

“You should take this more seriously inquisitio….”

“ Hey that’s not fair” He cuts Solas off.

“Unlike you the chance of me walking a way from this is… Trust me my lack of longevity is ever present. And in spite of the fact that I’ve accepted my path I’m just as much flesh and blood as the rest of you. And come to think of it I rather like living. I know exactly how bad this is, and I’m shit scared. So of you don’t mind I’m the only one who has a say in how I handle this fendis fen harel’s hairy back side of a situation. As such I would rather make the best of whatever time I have left…”

Mahoran get up despite his body protesting. Everywhere hurts and he has no idea how much damage the anchor left behind. He muses over how such a small thing can contain so much power. Although the scar has gone from a thin line that’s spread the entire palm of his hand. So small is not the right word here. Cassandra catch him when his legs give in.

“Ma serranas Vhenan, thank you all you. Ir ablas. I pushed myself to far. I should have known better. I’m sorry you had to see that, and for my behaviour … I just it hurts”

“No need to apologise Inqusitor you are doing all you can to save us all.” Vivienne offers.

“Indeed” Solas adds. “I’m sorry my love, when you close breeches and kill demons you make it look easy, and I forget that you are a lot more than the shape of your ears and the scar on your hand” Cassandra strokes his ear as to prove a point, and get her arm under his shoulder. “Let’s get some sleep, all of us.”

“ A very good idea, lady seeker. I for one can’t wait to hit my bedroll. But do tell us before the anchor manages to almost kill you. I know I don’t always come across as the most warm and fuzzy of people. But I consider you a friend. And as such I would like to help if I can.” Dorian pat his shoulder, his sleepy smile reflect Mahoran’s own weariness.

“ Sereanas ma felon I appreciate it.” Mahoran let Cassandra lead him into their tent.

“Felon?” Dorian aims the question at Solas. “It means friend” Solas offers. “But I thought that l-word Letha… something meant friend?”

“Lethalin” Solas smiles. “Is what we use when we respect others directly translated it means my kin. Felon we use when we consider someone a close friend. Beyond everyday polite relationships.”

“Oh right that’s good right?”

“I’d say so yes, good night Dorian”

“And you.”

Mahoran half hear their conversation, he’s peeling off his armor not caring where it lands. And curls up in his Halla fur. The Halla belonged to his mother who died a long time ago. How much he misses home and his family. His trail of thought is interrupted by Cassandra’s warm body snuggling close. He can hear her steady heartbeat. He turn to face her, she smiles and lean in for a kiss. “I love you.”

“And I you.”

For the first time she grabs his left hand. Interlocking their fingers and watch as the anchors magicglow escape the small gaps in between. He would do anything to not die. Not when he’s finally found his vhenan his hart’s journey. He pray Mythal might protect him long enough to defeat Corephyus long enough for him to go home, long enough for him to just love Cassandra… it’s not to much to ask is it….?

[undercut-mcqueer]

flirting with everyone in dragon age ended up making me sad because like.. from the start i knew my inquisitor (haleir) was going to romance iron bull right

but he was also flirting with both dorian and cassandra,, and both ended up with feelings for him and then i felt so awful having to reject them LMDFKLSDJSL like guys no im sorry this twink ass elf is just a flirt hes not actually interested hes riding the bull i swear-

[ferox-imagines]

Dragon age doodles 💕💕💕

//Watermark is my instagram

[madameoni]

Keeper Lavellan would always find a good excuse to visit the Divine, bringing news about the Marches and Kirkwall. He finds comfort in taking care of his clan during these uncertain times, and knowing that no matter how far apart they are- their love remains the same.

I’m sketching so much of these two ;; I enjoyed so much playing as Lavellan.

 I really love a separated by duty romance lol its less intense, yes, but so sweet. tbh most of Dragon Age romances have this “separated by duty” thing.

Also! Even if Cassandra knows she can’t get married or be open about their relationship (upsetting the chantry and possibly making elves’ lives more complicated doesn’t sound like a solid idea considering that any day a would-be-elven-god is going to pop up to destroy everything) for the way she speaks, I feel deep down she deeply enjoys the scandalous secret romance- and would totally sneak the inquisitor late at night lol or take a looong trip to oversee the Seekers.

Lavellan is content. He was prepared to be a keeper, probably to dedicate his life for the clan and less for his personal life. He understands Cassandra’s duty and respects it. They’re the same, only different faiths. Existing peacefully next to the love of his life would always be enough, as long as he knows he has her love. And that is what he wants the most- some fucking peace.   

[w-h-4-t]

WIP Wednesday

Got tagged by @emerald-amidst-gold so thanks bruv : D. Literally been in a creative slump until recently so this WIP Wednesday really did just drop at a perfect time.

Currently working on a small fic idea using @mfmoonbear DAI OC Yelisavita Lavellan in a Modern AU where Cassandra is a police officer and Yeli's a wrongly accused arsonist with hella problems and *hnnnng healing and conflict such*

For now, it might be called Fire Poppy bc Yeli's life burned down and in the scorched earth, it bloomed.

Roughest draft #1 right here

The scent of coffee. The cold fluorescents. The sound of telephones ringing, papers shuffling, people talking. Cassandra couldn’t hear any of it. For a moment, she was deaf to the world, staring at a manilla folder weathered and creased by age. A copy of the original file laid spread out before her with many words highlighted and opinions hastily scribbled in its margins.

In its aged confines was one picture, a formerly shiny image that was dulled by time and exposure to sunlight. Rarely did that photo sit in the desk drawer, instead it remained close by, always in eyeshot and never seen by others; a reminder, a soft whisper of the past that bent Cassandra’s ear whenever she dared think about that day.

Cassandra brought her hand up to ruffle through her cropped hair, gritting her teeth as she felt the urge to bring her fist down on the sturdy desk. Instead, she held her temper back as she watched the photo, her lip coming to harm between her teeth as she moved to snap the file shut.

But she could still see it, the cold, green eyes that spoke of prior verdancy, the reddish-gold waves of hair that curled outwards like gnarled tree branches. The catatonic face that stared back from the picture, a minute frown and expressionless features of the condemned haunted Cassandra; a small flame of the future snuffed out before its time.

Yelisavita Lavellan was so young, too young to know the cold righteousness of steel bars, too young to feel the flippant nature of the media, too young to be made an enemy, a killer, a miscreant.

Cassandra sighed as she stared at the date on her desk calendar, counting the years that passed down to the second. Today was the day she’d be released from her iron cage meant to house the most hardened of criminals. All the while, Cassandra continued ignoring the sounds of life around her, far too focused on the memory of her days as an officer too young to know the truth was sometimes hidden, ignored and ultimately dismissed.

They were both so young and now, they had aged for better and in Yelisavita’s case, for worse.

I'll tag @tarasylnin-lavellan @mfmoonbear @herald-divine-hell @voidandfyre @morganaseren and @lunar-shards NO PRESSURE I'm just taggin yall cause everyone is amazing and creative and if you got something, go for it! : D