#dragon age fiona

[alistairssock]

Self care is making Maric and his whole polycule in Sims

[lola1b]

"Enchanters! A time has come for battle lines. We will cut these knotted ties, And some may live and some may die."

First Dragon Age Fanart in a while. Not too happy with the result but I do like how Fiona looks.

Psst, you should join my server:

[thedreadfulwolf]

...so is it canon that Maric has a thing for elves?

[eobard-thawne]

FIONA IS ALISTAIR'S MOM???!!!??????!!!

[anneapocalypse]

Fiona's Regret

"The Grey Warden, Alistair, they tell me… he died? In the Fade?"

[ealyblu]

She's a legend, she's an icon and she is the moment

[spainkitty]

The Fiona is Secretly Alistair's Mother Scenes Part 2

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

Her advisors talked over her head, and she let them. Their voices were a familiar and by now comforting backdrop. In her hands she read over the missive from King Alistair. His missive wasn't long, nor terribly eloquent. At all. It made Lavellan like him despite their first and only meeting. A little bit. He seemed like someone she could be friends with. Or at least laugh with in between wanting to slap him upside the head.

...I'm hoping you'll help. Something something grateful something. Wait... did you just write that? You scribes do this on purpose, don't you?

She grinned and shook her head. Even his scribes and staff teased him. Despite the circumstances they were all in, despite the request he made now, he did seem... happy. Or well. Perhaps just well. But he was definitely and completely himself, with no pretenses and an easy humility that didn't make him weak. Just... human. The common king, that's what they called him, right? Would King Maric be proud of him? Would Fiona... want to see this?

"Leliana," Lavellan said, before she could think about it.

"Yes, Inquisitor?"

She held up the paper. "This is a copy, right?"

"Yes, I keep the originals in a locked box for a short time, and then I burn them. The more incriminating, I burn sooner."

Lavellan blinked. "Have you burnt the original of this one?"

"Not yet. It's not especially--"

"And he signed it, himself?" She waved the paper where Alistair's name was obviously not a personal signature.

"Why, Inquisitor, are you asking for the king's autograph?" Leliana asked, smirking. "I know him quite well. I'm sure he'd be delighted to send you something more personal."

"Oh yes, I'm absolutely enamored of him," Lavellan drawled. "Didn't you know I love them Ferelden, human, and forgetting to put their crowns on before they burst in and yell at me. I especially love it when they're already married and infamously besotted. I'll kiss his autograph good night and dream of elf-blooded princes and princesses."

Josephine and Leliana were already laughing by the time she got to the kissing part.

"I don't think the Hero of Ferelden would like it much," Josephine said. "I hear she's quite fierce with a bow."

"Please, flirt with Alistair as obviously as possible. He'll get so confused and then maybe Aleandria will come back from wherever she is," Leliana teased.

"Yes, the danger of getting shot with a bow so you can flirt with a married man sounds greatly appealing," Cullen noted dryly.

Lavellan's lips twitched as Josephine and Leliana laughed again.

"But truly, could I have the original? I..." She looked down at those last few lines. "I think I know someone who would like to see this. It would mean a lot to... them."

"Do you trust them not to forge his signature or lose it?" Leliana asked, although she looked like she wanted to do anything but say yes.

"She--They'll probably burn it themselves just so that wouldn't happen. I think. Yes, I trust them." She nodded decisively.

"That fills me with confidence, Inquisitor," Leliana said with a frown. Lavellan grinned. "As you wish. But if Ferelden is suddenly filled with remarkably good forgeries of King Alistair's autograph, I'll tell him who's at fault."

"Oh good, I'll finally be able to meet the true love of my life again. Tell him I pine for him, will you." She set the copy of the missive on the desk and turned to walk out.

"If you like, I could send him a scented handkerchief along with our reply!" Josephine suggested.

"Do you think he prefers pine trees or horse sweat?" Lavellan asked over her shoulder. "I'm sure you know what's best. Also, I don't have a handkerchief."

"Perhaps I should leave the meetings early. I'm starting to regret taking my time," Cullen muttered under his breath as he gathered up his papers.

"Of course, dear Commander. But just think, you would've missed such crucial information," Leliana said, eyes dancing wickedly.

"That you three can't be serious the moment someone brings up romance?"

"Ferelden. Human. Well, that's two out of three, isn't it?" Josephine asked Leliana innocently. "Leliana, isn’t the Commander Ferelden and human?"

Paper scattered over the floor and the large, heavy, war table skidded over stone when Cullen bumped, hard, against the edge. He winced and bent over double, muttering to the Maker.

"Why yes, Josie, I think he is. Perhaps he also would like a handkerchief scented with pine trees and horse sweat?"

"I definitely regret staying longer."

...

The original message from King Alistair was on her bed when she went up after training to wash before dinner. It was an innocuous little roll of parchment, tied with a pink bow, but Lavellan was sure of what it was before she even opened it. His name at the bottom was a messy scrawl, wide, loopy, and hurried. His big A was written the same way she wrote them, and she didn't know why it was such a jolt to see.

Leliana said once that Lavellan's writing looked Chantry-educated. King Alistair must've been, too, like Cullen. She rolled the parchment, tied it off, and decided she'd wait to wash. She wanted to give this to the right person immediately.

The library was hushed and serene, the smell of parchment and paper and ink like a soothing balm. She wasn't much of a reader, so she didn't know why she liked it so much, but she did. Her hand trailed along the bannister as she made her way to the former Grand Enchanter.

"Inquisitor, it is a pleasure," Fiona greeted, her husky voice sounding genuinely pleased. "It'll be time to dine soon. Would you care to join us this evening?"

Lavellan blinked. "Oh. That sounds like... a really good idea, actually. Does Dorian join you sometimes?"

"Yes. He's always amusing. There are a few that..." Fiona broke off with a guilty frown. "A few that are uncomfortable with a Tevinter, after... everything. But he has charmed most."

"That sounds like Dorian," Lavellan agreed, grinning. "But I didn't come for that, but I will, if the offer is--"

"Any time. You are always welcome among us. You are our Inquisitor, savior, and sister in magic."

There was something about that. Something that eased a tension inside her. She had made the mages her allies, she felt no shame or regret about it, but she'd been so careful to keep them at arm's length. Not wanting to show a distinct favoritism when hundreds of soldiers were ready outside to die for her, and she hadn't had to prove much of anything to any of them. Well, she had, but it hadn't been on purpose.

But she was a mage. And the idea of spending an evening among them, her other people and just as integral to who she was, was impossible to resist.

Lavellan took out the scroll and handed it to Fiona. It was even easier than she thought it would be, although Leliana's uncertainty and suspicions still echoed in her head.

"What's this?" Fiona unrolled it, eyes scanning the short text. A hand raised to her mouth to stifle the almost silent gasp.

"It's the original, so he signed it himself. I thought... I couldn't introduce you, maybe it is too late, but maybe you'd like that." Lavellan shrugged, discomforted by the sudden pallor of Fiona's skin.

Maybe it had been a bad idea after all.

"Da'len, ma serannas."

Lavellan startled at Fiona using Elvish. She was just as startled at the swell of emotion that throbbed throughout each word, making her thick Orlesian accent even thicker.

"Excuse me, that was... inappropriate." Fiona rolled the paper back. "He is... exactly like his father. I can hear Maric in his words. How... extraordinary." She was smiling her placid, gentle smile, but Lavellan could see a tremble at the corner of it. "Thank you for this." She held out her hand.

Lavellan took the scroll mutely. Fiona bowed her head, a minute gesture of respect, then turned away. Her steps were not hurried, her posture relaxed. But Lavellan had no doubt the mage was heading somewhere private.

She knew that look.

Lavellan glanced down at the paper. Leliana would be relieved and pleased to have it back. It was, in fact, better this way.

But in her room, hidden in the corner of her pillowcase, the only two messages from clan Lavellan she'd ever have were wedged tight. A crumpled ball immovable, unreadable, but there.

"Grand Enchanter," Lavellan said, striding across the floor. There was an almost imperceptible pause before Fiona turned.

"Just Fiona is acceptable, Inquisitor."

"Uh. Right. Here." She grabbed Fiona's hand and shoved the message there. She then quickly backed up, hands clasped behind her. "To remember your friend. To remind you his son is well. And happy."

"Inquisi--"

"I have to go wash up and get changed if I want to be on time for dinner. I'll see you then." Lavellan spun on her heel and fled the tower.

Fiona glanced down at the slightly mangled paper. Then, she slipped it into her pocket, eyes a little too bright.

To Part I

[immawraffle]

Tags by @undead-potatoes.

Alistair, devastated and confused upon discovering that his birth mother is in fact, Orlesian

[aghostwithnoname]

I love characters who act selfishly to protect the people they love. Absolutely will 1000% hit that trope like a line of coke. I have no moral qualms about this.

[housederiva]

Do you guys want to know the thing that pisses me off about Inquisition the most? If you play your cards right (have Alistair stay a warden and side with the mages instead of the templars) You can have Alistair and Fiona both at Skyhold at the exact same time and there's not a single interaction between the two of them. Which from Alistair's perspective is stupid because Fiona is a grey warden who's been cured of the blight and from Fiona's perspective is frustrating because she is his mother and she knows she's his mother

“Oh I shouldn’t talk to him because his father asked me not let him know he’s my son” Girly Maric’s dead and you have agency over your life. Get your ass to the courtyard and at least introduce yourself as the cured warden??????

[alistairssock]

Went on a roll and wanted to make an older looking Alistair, ended up with making the Theirin bloodline, as well as resident emo boy Loghain, my son young Duncan and Katriel

[lola1b]

WIP of Fiona. Cause she is the revolutionary, ya know. She did decide to end the circles. I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing on the left....

[maleficore]

local Warden devastated that his boyfriend is not actually elf-blooded

(he doesn't know!!!! 🫢)

[deeplord]

her good boy

[chevalierlogan]

“Do you need to say good-bye?” Maric asked him cautiously. He shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “I did that long ago.” - Dragon Age: The Calling

[abyssal-ilk]

genuinely a crime that when you have fiona join the inquisiton that there is zero interaction between her and vivienne. zero. none. you're telling me they have absolutely nothing to say to each other? nothing? the leader of the rebel mages and the leader of those who chose to stay behind in the circles? they don't say a single damn thing to each other about anything? not about alexius, the war, the tranquil, the templars– nothing??