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greypetrel · 5 months ago

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Hiii 👁️👄👁️💜 Maybe: 🎄 spirits follow everywhere i go - or alternatively:🎄 oh, you fool, there are rules

Hello! Bet you forgot you sent me this, uh? 💜

WELL, it's here! After much consideration because I love the album that contains both these songs, I thought that the Yawning Grave just yelled Morrigan. A minor possible spoiler for the Arbor Wilds/What Pride Has Wrought but well. I'm not explaining whys and hows anyway.

Tis the prompt list

Oh you fool, there are rules.

[ Morrigan x Female Mahariel | 3.692 words | No trigger warnings - Hurt/comfort ]

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent you omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you (You can run, but you can't escape) Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins (You will open the yawning grave)

Morrigan didn’t stall long in Skyhold, after Corypheus was defeated.

She had done what she must. That was it. She never meant to stay much longer.

She was grateful for Aisling, for her concerned expression as she told her that she would have tried to help her if she only had let her. Tried to fix whatever was done to her at the Well. Morrigan knew guilt when she saw it. It resonated deeply in her heart, and she was at the same time grateful and repulsed. It only made her want to run.

Run from that castle, run from another series of mistakes, run from companionship and friendship she still doubted she deserved.

Old books and ruins were much safer companions. They never talked back.

She wanted to believe the Inquisitor, be sure that everything could be fixed, that if they put their mind to it, they could have found a solution. Freed her from the cage of a past that wasn’t her own alone anymore, once again. She really did.

She wasn’t fool enough to actually do it.

Aisling knew not the extent of the magic that had been bestowed upon her. The extent of the control it could exert, how much she felt it deep in her bones, like the loose strings of a puppet. She knew, painstakingly well, for all the voices of the Well whispered it into her ears, that as talented as Lavellan was, as undoubtedly bright and creative with magic, she wasn’t powerful enough to break that spell.

None of her people was. No one else was, anymore. Save for… but he had vanished after the battle.

She thanked Aisling, told her words of comfort she didn’t feel, and of trust that in spite of herself she couldn’t convince herself not to mean. She at least owed her a nice goodbye. Kieran hugged her tight, and the elf stalled, caressing his hair and recommending him to listen to his mother. She whispered something in his ear, which made the boy giggle. Morrigan smiled: it happened much more rarely these days.

And before the first light of days could tinge the sky in pinks and lilacs, she took her son’s hand and left the fortress.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Leliana had waited for her, just outside the first outpost, before the descent to the valley.

She knew she didn’t have to go. She knew it well that right now, Skyhold was probably one of the safest places in Thedas. A place run by a person who knew her, knew partially the extent of what she did, could help her should something awry happen, should the Well decide to take full control of her. A person that loved Kieran and, she knew, would have gone out of her way to keep him safe and bring his mother back.

But she missed her.

She missed her and that choice of old, the separation, seemed now the biggest in a long list of mistakes she made. She had gained the knowledge she craved, and for what?

“I miss her.” She just told Leliana, too tired, to battered up to bite back something.

Leliana nodded, smiled in a knowing way that brought back memories, made her look like the young person she once was, and stirred some irritation.

“It was plenty of time you did.”

“Don’t tell the idiot.”

“Oh, I’m saving this bit of information for a special occasion, worry not.”

“If you hear from her…”

“You’ll hear first.” Leliana smiled. “You always hear first from her. You know it, yes?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sneered, the pang to her heart finally enough in bringing some old bite back. “I wouldn’t dare implying I know more than the next Divine.”

“It’s been nice to meet you again, Morrigan.” She looked down, and smiled at Kieran. “To meet you both. Come say hi if you are in Val Royeaux.”

She travelled south for a couple of days, just to mislead any possible person who followed her.

And then, she headed straight to Amaranthine.

---

Nathaniel welcomed her warmly and ruffled Kieran’s hair, complimenting on how much he had grown.

Morrigan saw him frowning as the boy answered with a smile that was there for politeness, but didn’t offer any explanation to the fact. She couldn’t, not now. Not with him first.

“Is she here?”

“No.” He sighed. “Still Maker knows where. The last letter came from the Anderfels, but it was five months ago.” A pause, he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Of course.

It was no surprise, after all: when she came to bid her goodbye in Orlais, Alyra had said she would have been gone for a while, and that communications would have been difficult. She had built a net of spies, but it wasn’t so widespread as to reach desolate places. In the Anderfels, Morrigan knew she had a handful of people in Weisshaupt, but nothing more. And, she couldn’t risk getting found or tracked.

Hoping she would have been there, waiting to magically fix her mess, had been childish and stupid. She wasn’t living in a fairy tale, she was no Vassilissa, as much as she had liked to pretend she was, as a child. As much as Alyra had made her feel like that. Such mishaps had already happened: the first time she reached her in Vigil’s Keep, Alyra had been in Denerim, impossibilitated to move before a week. They had managed three days together. Nothing more, and it wasn’t the only time they had missed each other. It was foolish to hope things could go differently.

“Very well. Can we stay the night, before leaving again?”

Kieran looked at her, snapping his head quickly with a face of disappointment. Morrigan knew perfectly well what he was about to say, and shook her head at him.

The room was found, and there were not many things left to do save opening the window, get a fire going, and bring their bags there, their cloaks to be washed. The same room she had occupied every time she had visited, finding it in the same level of readiness to be occupied.

She observed a dapple of sun shining over the white of the fresh linens. The air smelled like clean, as clean a that place -the whole castle actually- was. Kieran shook Nathaniel’s hand, very politely, and Morrigan wished him a nice afternoon and thanked him for his hospitality. He scoffed the formalities, but hesitated on the door before leaving. He turned towards her.

“She left orders, you know.” He told her, with a smile. “You both can stay for as long as you wish. Not a word of your presence will leave the walls, she described in no lack of details what will happen to snitches to all the recruits and the staff.”

“It sounds like mamae.” Kieran convened.

“The recruits still have nightmares.”

Morrigan joined the other two laughing at that, in spite of the glomp in her throat that rose knowing that Alyra had, in fact, thought of her. Of them both. She clutched one hand in the other and told Nathaniel that she would have thought about it, when Kieran asked her if they could stay.

“Just until mamae is back. Please, mother.”

The room was warm and comfortable, and no servant batted an eye when she asked for dinner to be brought in her room, leaving Kieran to go dine with the others in the great hall. She just walked him there, watched him taking place on a bench close to Nathaniel and in front of Velanna, answering politely to the question the others asked him. Smiling.

Some normality, at long last, or whatever normality she could ever hope to offer him.

The image only made the glomp in her throat grow.

And the glomp grew further when, back in her room, the servant returned with her favourite dish.

“Lady Warden-Commander left a list of what you and your son like to eat, my lady. Just in case.” The old woman smiled, sympathetically. “If you have other preferences, please let me know.”

Morrigan closed the door behind the maid, thanking her, and with all the dignity she had left, walked to the bed and sat down, elegant as a queen.

And then she let go, falling heavily back on the bed. It was fresh and plush: a room well taken care of, as if she was expected. Alyra left orders. Alyra said to the cook what to prepare her.

She wished she never went through that eluvian, all those years ago.

What god to pray for Mahariel to come back to her safe and sound and please, come back soon, she didn’t know anymore, but she was tired. Bone-deep tired.

Maybe she could rest. For some days, at least.

Kieran would benefit from a familiar place to cope with the lack of part of his soul. Faces he knew and who loved him to help him through the change.

Yes, she decided. They both would use some rest.

For some days, at least.

If that was yet another mistake, at least Kieran would have been happy about this one.

She ignored the voices telling her to go.

---

The days became weeks. And months.

Morrigan thought they were past hospitality, but looking better she realized both her and Kieran were a part of the Keep. Expected and wanted. Kieran had his spot in the Library, and everyone in the Keep, Wardens and not, automatically started to teach him whatever knowledge they possessed as if the child was a part of their environment too.

It wasn’t Skyhold, with the Inquisitor and Lord Pavus struggling to cut a free hour for lessons in busy schedules. No, here he was welcomed and expected during activities, at very regular timings Morrigan knew were something Alyra had started in the Keep. Everything happened at a precise time, as she would have wanted.

Her absence was a presence in itself, and it was soothing. It relaxed her, and the boy as well.

Kieran still cried because at night he felt the air too silent, and often crawled in her bed, to be soothed with a hug. He was growing old for that, Morrigan knew, and yet she had not in her to shun him away, nor to scold him because it was unbecoming for a young man his age to seek his mother when he had a nightmare.

No, she hugged him tight and caressed his hair until he felt asleep against her shoulder, like she did when he was but a baby. Everything felt more bearable, more worth it, when she held him like so, alive and breathing and free.

She missed him tenderly when he was a baby, those days. She soothed him and soothed herself as well.

She missed tenderly the exact look Alyra made when she first saw him: she had melted down, the usual air of harshness crumbling in something tender and marvelled. She never looked smitten, not with her and not with Alistair. She had looked so with Kieran. She had smiled, and poked the baby’s nose with such delicate tenderness that Morrigan had burst in tears.

“If you haven’t heard from her… But I’ve written her, too. Told her you’re here.” Nathaniel said, one day when she asked again whether he had news or not. “You know her safe spots, she’s gonna return as soon as she’ll read the letters.”

“Is she?”

He sighed, deeply, stopping to look at the Wardens training in the courtyard, at Velanna crouching in front of Kieran to correct his grip on the staff. Everything went on like normal, like one would expect. A clockwork fortress that stood its ground, brought to discipline by a missing Commander and kept so by her lieutenant. Nathaniel looked that much older, and it wasn’t just the Blight paling his skin, starting to paint his black hair in grey at the temples. Command didn’t really suit him: he could do it, he had been grown for it. It was clear as day, knowing him, that he didn’t like it.

“I hope she is.” He answered, tone lowering. “What are we going to do if she isn’t?”

Morrigan considered. She didn’t want to, but it’s been seven months since the last time anyone had any news from Mahariel. The whispers in her ears told her nothing useful: tales and whispers of Deep Roads, and creatures slain, something stirring, deep down. The possibility that it was too much, even for Alyra, was concrete. More than concrete.

But she knew perfectly well what she would have answered.

“We stop being stupid about it and go on.”

He laughed, bitterly, and couldn’t but agree with her.

They went on, but Morrigan still didn’t feel like leaving, even if everything told her she should not stay any longer, she was being stupid about it, waiting for a person that would have never come back.

She once thought that her plans wouldn’t have allowed her to stay more than a handful of months in one place, but as per now, she wasn’t sure what were her plans anymore.

So, she just listened to the voices from the Well, concentrated on them and tried to interpret them.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but all she could devise was one word.

Stay.

It seemed a fitting excuse to be stupid about it and listen.

---

Something was on the bed, crawled into her arms.

She sighed and shifted, still more than a half asleep, she shifted her arms on the figure, rested her chin more comfortably on the head, thinking it was Kieran.

“Another nightmare?”

“He had one, but he’s asleep, right now.”

It was enough to make Morrigan jolt awake, every trace of sleep instantly gone. She snapped her fingers and a ball of fire started in the air, balanced on the palm of her hand to illuminate the rest of her bed.

Red hair, glinting orange and golden in the firelight, carefully braided in an intricate motive to stay out of her face. A practical style, a travelling one. Dark tattoos marking her brow, making her features less minute and delicate than they were. Beside her eyes, usually, but tonight those eyes were mellower than their usual.

“You’re-” There were at least ten thoughts in her head, but the whispers were loud and insisting, hissing about alarms and danger and wrongness, and she grew distracted. “Am I still dreaming?”

It was all that she managed to spit.

Alyra Mahariel, the Warden-Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, survivor of yet another mission everyone with some brain would have deemed impossible, frowned at her. She rose on one elbow, the shoulder of her nightsuit daintly slipping off a shoulder. Muscly, but less than Morrigan remembered. She looked thinner, more ghastly, the bags under her eyes were darker and her cheeks looked hollow, and the Witch knew it wasn’t just the light. If all, the light masked how more grey-ish her skin had gotten.

“it depends.” Alyra extended a hand, hesitating just a moment, just to see a nod from the other, before cupping Morrigan’s cheek. “Is it a good dream?”

A thumb caressed Morrigan’s cheekbone with tenderness, the pressure barely perceptible. The elf slid forward, very slowly and carefully as if she was afraid of startling a wild animal. Her face grew closer, her lips parted, but still she stopped at but a breath space from a kiss. She brushed her lips with her own, and waited for the other to consent. As she had done from the start, inviting but never pressing.

It made the glomp in Morrigan’s throat only bigger, as she realized that it was really Alyra, not an impostor. Her breath on her lips, the gentle pressure of her hand on her cheek were not a dream. The whispers were more pressing, insisting on the verge of deafening: they spoke of decay and death and wrongness, and danger. Morrigan had seen her slice so many throats, kill enough people in cold blood to say the Well was wrong.

But that wasn’t the whole of it.

The Well knew many things, but the Well didn’t know everything. Not the care in which she cupped her face, not the love in which she still waited for Morrigan to take the first step, without forcing her or making her feel trapped or pressured. That little choice she gave her, knowing how important it was for her.

She waited in Amaranthine for 7 months, and for 7 months she endured and kept strong, hid under the carpet all the negative.

Only then, 7 months after Corypheus had been slain, 9 since she drank from the Well and lost her freedom yet again, in front of that little tenderness, Morrigan allowed herself to cry.

She folded forward, and the fact that she was met with a solid shoulder and arms that held her, made her cry more. She circled the other woman’s bust and held her with all she had in her. She didn’t remember the last time she cried like that, so loud and intensely. She held Alyra like she would have disappeared again if she let go, and squeezed her past the point of comfort. She had missed her, missed her so much that the voices in her head felt more distant, more quiet.

“What happened?”

She asked her, tenderly combing her hair with her fingers -stiffer than her usual, Morrigan didn’t want to know whether she was just tired or her mission had failed and the Blight was starting to get hold of her. She couldn’t face it, now. As the elf patiently waited for an answer. Morrigan felt the deep, satisfied sigh, her frame melting against hers, as if she too hadn’t relaxed in ages and was waiting for it.

“I-” She started, but the words died in her throat. She didn’t want to know, but she had to. She needed at least one thing to go right, in the grand scheme of things. “… Did you succeed?”

She didn’t need to specify in which exactly. And she hated the whiny tone the question came out from her mouth with. It was pitiful and pathetic, and she wasn’t a person who begged. She could care later, tho.

“Avernus has it. A last round of control.” Alyra answered, her arms holding her tighter. “… I have the Cure.”

Morrigan started crying again, fat tears surging instantly to her eyes, as some weight she didn’t realise she was carrying lifted from her shoulder. Alyra disentangled from the hug, still as quick and agile as ten years ago in her prime, and moved to cup her cheeks and delicately pull her head so she was looking in her eyes. Her eyes were shiny too, and she looked tired. Bone-deep tired. But less stoney than she had seen her ever since she first met their son. She pushed forward and gently nuzzled her nose with her own, stopping as usual but a breath away from her lips. Morrigan, this time, didn’t hesitate: she filled the distance and kissed her, her taste all so familiar and soothing. Finally, after three years.

“What happened to you?” She broke the kiss, but didn’t stray far, delicately kissing tears away from her cheeks. “You’ve missed me before, but you haven’t ever cried like so. Not even when I told you I couldn’t follow you through your mirror.”

Morrigan sighed, pressing forward until her face drowned in the crook of the other’s neck. Alyra shifted, urging her to lie down after a while that they hadn’t moved. Her back ached, she said: she had ridden fast and hard all day, and they weren’t all that young anymore.

She settled them under the covers, tugging the hem on Morrigan’s shoulder with just one hand. The other arm held her close all throughout, as if she knew she needed to be this close, hear her steady heartbeat under her ear, when she moved.

Satisfied, she settled more comfortably around the witch, holding Morrigan as she kept combing her hair with her fingers, absent-mindedly. Tracing circles on her skin. Pressing a kiss where she could, every now and then. On her cheek, jaw, neck and shoulder. She even started to humm a song: a familiar tune she had sung to Kieran every time she was there to tuck him to sleep.

Three years since they last saw each other.

Morrigan could have written more, or could have travelled to meet her. She could have travelled with her, even. She could have stayed in Amaranthine, 10 years ago when they met for the first time after the Blight. Alyra couldn’t move, but Morrigan could have stayed. She wondered what could have been, if she had. Kieran growing up happy with people he could have called family.

She could have done so many things more for the woman in her arms, the woman she loved.

And yet, as cruel and ruthless and unforgiving as her fame said, Alyra Mahariel never put an ounce of blame on her. She was crying, so Alyra held her and soothed her until tears stopped.

She wondered if she would have done the same knowing what she did at the Well of Sorrow. Knowing that she took the Well away from two Dalish. The Well and the voices whispered she was theirs, that the illusion that she belonged with her was just that. She belonged to them, now. It was foolish to hope anything else. Such was the price she paid.

Bile rose in her throat, the thought of losing her love unbearable and anguishing.

But once again, she had to know.

Hunger for knowledge was what would have brought her demise, ultimately. And it was better now than later, she thought. Even if it was the most terrifying thing she had ever done.

Her hands fisted in the cotton of her shirt, a silent plea not to go, to stay where she was. Four words that weighted like the whole castle slowly creeped out of her lips.

“I made a mistake.”

#morrigan x female mahariel #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #warden mahariel #dao #da fanfic #writing petrel #angst #dai #da morrigan #nathaniel howe #it's gonna be fine alyra found a cure to the blight #what's defeating an ancient elven well #she'll speak with the voices in the well and convince them to behave or else #“Don't make me come there.” cit.

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pinacoladamatata · 5 months ago

Text

figured some people may not have heard this theory; so some theory bullshitting about evanuris, their symbols, and old gods predictions/lore speculation under the cut

It's a decently popular theory that the Evanuris are the old gods under different names. So we have the evanuris

Elgar'nan: God of Vengeance

Mythal: the Great Protector - now known to be Flemeth/came to Flemeth at some point long time ago.

Falon'Din: Friend of the Dead, the Guide

Dirthamen: Keeper of Secrets

Andruil: Goddess of the Hunt

Sylaise: the Hearthkeeper

June: God of the Craft

Ghilan'nain: Mother of the Halla

Fen'Harel: The Dread Wolf aka Solas. known to have been in uthanera until like, yeah you know.

not counting solas, that is 8 gods. 7 of which he locked away, bc Mythal was already dead (kindof). Then, this art we got, only 2 of 7 bells are still lit. and the number 2 leads us to the archdemons

Now Archdemons, which we know are 'awakened old gods' that used to be worshiped in Tevinter.

Dumat, the Dragon of Silence and the archdemon of the First Blight

Zazikel, the Dragon of Chaos and the archdemon of the Second Blight

Toth, the Dragon of Fire and the archdemon of the Third Blight

Andoral, the Dragon of Slaves and the archdemon of the Fourth Blight

Urthemiel, the Dragon of Beauty and the archdemon of the Fifth Blight (This is the one that gets soul sucked into baby Kieran if you do the old god ritual)

Razikale, the Dragon of Mystery

Lusacan, the Dragon of Night

The only thing is it's hard to tell WHICH evanuris could be Which old god. But with the new dragon age 4 trailers and art, we see those evanuris symbols and we Know that 2 of them are going to feature, and Razikale and Lusacan are the only old gods left, who could be any of the evanuris really, but my guess is

Dumat = Falon'Din, killed in blight 1

Zazikel = June killed in blight 2

Toth = Sylaise kileld in blight 3

Andoral = Andruil killed in blight 4

Urthemiel = Dirthamen either killed in blight 5 or turned into Keiran

Razikale = Ghilan'nain

Lusacan = Elgar'nan

and honestly any could be any of them, I'm just kindof going off vibes. The last 2 are just more heavily theorized to be Elgar and Ghil.

I want to point out that Razikale could also be Dirthamen, since mystery and secrets line up fairly well, and Lusacan could also be Falon'Din, ala night and death. and I personally think Razikale could be Andruil and that Urthemiel may have been Ghilan'nain but I have no evidence other than Andruil's symbol of a bow kinda looks like the one headpiece and again, vibes. There's ALSO the constellation codex you can use to try and line these up but it's like, complica- ANyway, it could be any of them really

this image below also shows 2 figures, who we can kindof just assume are like, 2 other big bads

Given the shape of their heads/imagery, a lot of people theorize that the one on the left is Ghilan'nain, and the one on the right is Elgar'nan, but we also don't know for sure. The main points for these 2 has to do with Elgar'nan being associated with the sun, and Ghilan'nain being associated with monsters.

There's also This image where someone tries to line up all Evanuris names to symbols, from lysergic_fox on reddit

and now this from the new reveal trailer- 7 pillars with the evanuris symbols atop them, although we can only see 4 in the clip

so yeah i think a lot of signs are pointing in the evanuris = the archdemons direction and there's 2 left + maybe Kieran who used to hold the soul of one of them, but after DAI's ending of Mythal taking ~something~ (probably the old god soul) from Keiran and then Solas ??killing?? Mythal and that blue smoke, Solas may have both Mythal and the other old god baby soul, idk wtf happened there.

another reasoning for thinking evanuris = old gods actually comes in form of a codex in the Bellitanus constellation in DAI, where it shows Urthemial and the constellation looks like this; compared to one of the evanuris/bell symbols on the right

if this theory is true, it seems likely that the black city is also part of arlathan, and that the BAD (big ass dragon) in the trailer may be of the remaining evanuris. (it may also not be but again.)

So now, where do we think Titans and the blight fit into all this, knowing what we know about Lyrium being Titan blood, and red Lyrium having the blight and the titan mural?

And THEN we have the forgotten ones (we only know about 3) (im pulling this stuff from the wiki btw)

Anaris – according to an old tale, he was once tricked by Fen'Harel while dueling the Great Hunter Andruil

Daern'thal - from that one staff description in DAI; "The Forgotten Ones belong to the ancient Elven pantheon, but their names were lost after the Great Betrayal. Their worship continued in the shadows, despite efforts to stamp it out in the old Dalish kingdom. This staff belonged to a priest of those gods, specifically Daern'thal"

Geldauran - from DAI codex entry: There are no gods. There is only the subject and the object, the actor and the acted upon. Those with will to earn dominance over others gain title not by nature but by deed. I am Geldauran, and I refuse those who would exert will upon me. Let Andruil's bow crack, let June's fire grow cold. Let them build temples and lure the faithful with promises. Their pride will consume them, and I, forgotten, will claim power of my own, apart from them until I strike in mastery.

I would guess these were all actually elvhen or whatever. But who wants to bet the Great Betrayal is when Mythal was killed?? 👀

I almost wonder if some of the archdemons/old gods are forgotten ones instead of evanuris? but the numbers for the evanuris line up so much better.

AND we got the Forbidden ones; a group of four unique and very powerful ancient demons. It is said that they are older than both the darkspawn and the Tevinter Imperium. Some scholars even believe they taught the Magisters of old how to use blood magic.

The Formless One - we know like, nothing.

Gaxkang - demon dude in Denerim you could hunt down and kill in DAO

Imshael - demon dude you can kill/or let go in Emprise in DAI

Xebenkeck - desire demon you can kill in DA2

There's another codex or something that talks about how they were exiled from the evanuris lands but i don't remember where it was in the wiki. Interesting that they all seem to be spirits/demons however.

so like *total speculation here* but i think the forgotten ones may have been solas's old coworkers and might still be kicking and i *almost* think he's trying to save them, rather than the evanuris, and his "plans" consist of getting their help to deal with the remaining 2 evanuris/old gods

So anyone else want to go off the deep end and compare constellation codex notes?? theories? 👀

(but also none of this is serious and it's all theory so don't be gettin all bent out of shape if you disagree. you can reblog this in 6 months and make fun of it if it's all wrong lmao)

#dragon age #i actually have a notebook full of this shit that me and my siblings started some years ago and it gets way wilder #but im not sharing our more crazy theories #those are just for us #also bc. anybody notice that the old god baby ritual...like something about it cures the old god of the blight......

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