#eirlana.

[wolfoncaffeine]

DAI WIP

Stepping from her tent into the snow, Eirlana inhaled deeply. The cold stung her nostrils and chased away a little of her lingering fatigue. Her ribs still ached, as they would until the bones strengthened again, and her extremities were still tender from the healed frostbite, but otherwise, her injuries from Corypheus’ attack were mended.

Breath fogging, she strode forward.

Blue shadows draped the grove, laying long against red banners of sunlight. She’d slept a few hours. She found her way to a fire, where a recruit handed her a steaming mug of tea and a slice of bread topped with roasted meat.

Eating, she stood off to the side and watched as more people appeared, drawn by the warm smells of fire and hot food. Grief remained on many faces, yet mingled with hope, even in the awkward smiles and hesitant hellos. Mother Giselle’s efforts had come through. And my own, she thought, swallowing the last of her over-steeped tea with a grimace.

She returned her mug and followed the pull of magic to a corner of camp humming with it. Several mild, sustained inferno spells kept the medical tents warm, while inside the few mages with skill in healing magic worked alongside the medics.

Once convinced of her own knowledge, the chief medic set her to work. Those survivors with severe wounds had been treated in the hours she was missing, after the avalanche; dozens of less grievous injuries still needed tending. With her mana still dry, she was limited to stitching wounds and setting breaks by hand. All of the heavy anesthetics were used up, so she tucked pieces of leather between teeth and worked as quickly as possible, muffled cries jabbing at her concentration. She murmured comforts and kept her eyes down, afraid of seeing fear in someone else’s. Soon, her fingers and knuckles were cracked from sanitizing, the reek of blood and salves clinging like cobwebs even so.

Eventually, she became aware of a familiar magic, river-cool against her awareness. Knotting a bandage, she looked up at Solas.

He knelt alongside an unconscious soldier, palms aglow and hovering over their darkly bruised stomach.

She swallowed, nauseous with knowing how severe the internal damage must be, but unable to look away. He worked with his eyes closed, brows pinched in focus. His skin shone pale in the turquoise light, as the soldier’s bruise faded to a muted purple. When he drew back, his gaze fell on hers.

Despite the dark circles marring the skin beneath, his eyes were clear, sharp. His forehead smoothed, expression settling back in neutrality.

She stood and felt the world tip.

Stumbling back a step, she caught herself but not before someone noticed.

The chief medic, a silver-haired dwarf, strode over with a frown. “Herald, out. You’re still recovering. And you,” they said to Solas as he approached, “were here for hours last night. Out, both of you,” they added when neither immediately moved.

With a nod, she ducked outside, Solas’ footsteps following.

The day had brightened to mid-morning, and the sky to a delicate blue.

“Eat with me?” she asked.

“If I may have a word.”

She led him to a fire, where they both ate game-on-bread and Solas turned down a mug of tea.

“Tea not to your liking?”

“I detest the stuff,” he said, walking toward the edge of camp. “Caffeine hinders one’s ability to enter the Fade. Not to mention it is particularly bitter.”

She hummed, sipping from her own mug, and followed him out of the copse.

They moved across a stretch of unbroken snow to a knoll overlooking the valley — snowy woods and meadows, dark rivers twisting downslope. To the west, clouds rolled in to obscure the mountaintops.

He folded his hands behind his back, eyeing her without turning fully to face her. “I am beginning to believe that you are bent on courting death at every turn,” he said, voice cool.

“Of course you’d bring that up,” she replied, crossing her arms, half-full mug dangling from her fingers.

“Do you value your own life so cheaply?”

“I am painfully aware that it was reckless,” she said, mirroring his tone, “but there wasn’t time.”

“You should have at least consulted with someone.”

“So I’ve been told.” She glared toward the mountains, instead of at Solas. In her peripheral, he watched, waiting. “I just���didn’t want anyone else to die because of me.”

“Because of you?”

“Corypheus came for the Anchor. Whatever I did at the Conclave tied it to me; I’m at least partly responsible for all this ruin.”

“You are not.” He turned toward her, a shade of resolution in his voice. “Whatever mad plan Corypheus is following, it is his own. You are not to blame for attempting to stop him, then or now.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, not in agreement but suddenly too tired to argue. “Okay.”

“Your recklessness, however, is not what I most wanted to speak to you about.”

Shifting her weight to one hip, she lightened her tone, aiming for levity. “Oh? What else have I done?”

His lips quirked. “Nothing that calls for reproval. Its opposite, in truth. The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting.”

She blinked, hoping her surprise didn’t show. “Our people?” That’s new.

“Their faith is hard-won, lethallan,” he continued, “worthy of pride, save one detail. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours.”

Her breath caught, surprise skittering into something sharper.

“Corypheus used the orb to the open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. We must find out how he survived. And we must prepare for the humans’ reaction, when they learn the orb is of our people.”

“It’s elven? How…what is it?”

“Such things were foci in the days of Elvhenan, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins and faint versions of memory in the Fade. Echoes of a dead empire.

“But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith.”

Her jaw clenched. Such a powerful artifact, lost to a darkspawn. She glanced back at the camp, pulsing with magic and voices. “I wonder if the blame would fall on elves eventually.”

His eyes narrowed. “I suspect that it would. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but it needs room to grow.”

“It won’t be growing out here,” she snorted.

His mouth twitched again, perhaps on the verge of a smile. “Considering last night, I beg to differ. But I may have a solution. I dreamed last night, looking for a place the Inquisition could go.”

She took an unconscious half-step toward him and then back, trying to contain a rising jittery feeling. “You found something.”

“Yes. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. A place where the Inquisition can build, grow, beholden to no one else. However, the journey there will not be easy — it is far to the north, far deeper into the mountains.”

“Shit. With our wounded….”

“Some may not survive. But I cannot advise delaying our departure overlong, with our lack of supplies.”

She felt cold, knowing he was right. It’s miracle that the scouts and soldiers had time to grab as much as they did. And with this weather, we’ll burn through what’s left too quickly. We’re going to lose people. She drew herself up. “I’ll speak to my council, get a tally on what we have, and we can start planning a route. You’ll guide us?”

Solas dipped his head. “I will guide you, though I believe that you should lead. You saved them from Haven’s destruction; now you must lead them to safety.”

“Playing on my Herald status?”

He raised a brow. “It will be far more inspiring for you to be seen leading than I. Scout to the north, be their guide. I will not lead you astray in this.”

[inkywarden]

Added to my Rook collection 🧝🏻‍♀️👸🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

[blonde-giraffe]

My beautiful Inquisitor 😭😭😭

Hi! I’d love to make a request for a portrait of my female elf inky:

White/platinum long hair (if you’re able to add any braids that would be amazing), dark full eyebrows, round indigo eyes, straight wide nose, Ghilan'nain vallaslin in brown :)

Here you go! I hope you like it :)

*Please do not repost outside of tumblr without credit*

Requests are open!

[wakeupshep]

flabbergasted by the interpretation that Lavellan and Solas are stuck in his regret prison or the Black City bc

- how exactly would he atone, ie try to minimize the Blight’s effects and soothe the Titans (and also presumably help spirits better understand how the Veil works and the differences between the two realms — another significant thing in DAI which isn’t touched on in DAV) if he can barely affect the greater Fade and the mortal realm beyond it? the Blight is contained in the Abyss or is the Abyss, but wherever it is isn’t either prison

- he’s moving beyond being bound by those regrets. as for the Black City, its locks were apparently failing and are now presumably shattered

- Lavellan isn’t bound by to the Fade at all and, personal headcanon here, is capable of travel between the mortal and spirit realms (as much as Eirlana loves him, that love does not eclipse or replace the love for her clans and friends. yeah i know what she says in that one scene. no thanks. had enough of binary choices 100 hrs ago. she’s a mage with a deeper understanding of the Veil gained from years of study plus insight from the guy who created it. it’ll just take practice.)

- Solas isn’t necessarily bound to physically remain within the Fade either; Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s life forces were sustaining the Veil previously and they were traipsing around the mortal realm, while the Veil’s weakening was (i thought fairly clearly established) a combo of 1) Solas’ ritual, and 2) the Evanuris purposefully taking action to speed up its deterioration

[dutyraised]

        ‘  I  WOULDN’T  WORRY  TOO  MUCH  about  the  wound ,  commander .  ’    eirlana  finishes  her  bandaging ,   smiling  a  little  even  as  she  ducks  her  head  (  as  though  to  hide  her  face  behind  her  hair ,  which  is  pinned  carefully  back  ) .   ‘  come  back  tomorrow  to  have  the  bandages  changed ,  and  you’ll  be  good  as  new .  shouldn’t  get  infected  as  long  as  we  keep�� it  clean .   oh !  and . . .  ’   she  turns  for  a  moment  to  another  table ,  scooping  up  a  vial  and  offering  it  to  him .   ‘  lana — er ,  the  inquisitor  mentioned  that  you  were  suffering  from  headaches ?  didn’t  say  why ,  but  this  is  an  old  dalish  remedy .   should  ease  your  pain .  ’

@hcroesjcurney

[ashalle-art]

Can we have 22.Ugly Sweaters for Eirlana x Alistair, please?? 💕

Sorry for being late with it but here they are <3

[squashe]

I have so many sad and mixed feelings on DAtV, but at least we can make gorgeous characters finally. Will share my ex-Crow, Eirlana, and my wife's Lord of Fortune, Nereus ♡

Ok now that my ranting is out of the way, I’ll start taking Rook requests for my daily warmups.

Reblog with an image of your Rook and I might draw yours, similar to what I did with Tavs! No promises on how many I do, we’ll see what I can get to with the free time I have.

[ahrorha]

Flame of Winter

This is the final chapter, and it feels unreal to have come so far. The story is far longer than I ever could imagine. And I want to thank everyone who joined me on this journey.

Your kind words were a joy to have received. Thank you so much for everything.

I love you guys <3

Chapter 35

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Upstairs in the Hanged Man in Kirkwall, Varric sat in his armchair. His room in the most famous tavern of Kirkwall had become his second office since he became the Viscount. Here he could hide for a while from the complaining nobles and stuffy politicians he was surrounded by in Hightown. He could clear his head here and listen to the common people living in Kirkwall, who faced, in his opinion, the real problems in life. Not that he could escape his 'assistant' (pain in the but) Senechal Bran here. Bran had just delivered another stack of letters that required his 'immediate' attention. Varric sighed. He would become bald, grey and worn out like the previous Viscount if he wasn't careful.

“I see you are still insisting on staying in this lovely part of town.”

Startled, Varric looked up and saw Dorian walking into his room, looking critical at his choice of furniture.

“Sparkler! You've already arrived. Take a seat.”

“Yes. My voyage was very boring and uneventful. No burly Qunari pirates visited to make it less tedious.”

Varric stood up to send for refreshments, and soon afterwards, he took a deep drink from a mug of ale while

Dorian was sniffing his wine before taking a careful sip. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at the excellent taste.

Varric laughed. “I got you something good. My knowledge of wine has improved after spending time with you and Broody.”

They both were silent for a while.

Swirling his mug of ale, Varric asked. “Have you gotten one too?”

“Yes. Though mine was a little different.” Dorian answered.

“How so? Didn't you get a letter? Mine just showed on my nightstand when I woke up.”

Dorian gave him a surprised look. “A little unnerving. Do you know who brought it?”

Varric shook his head. “No, and to be honest. After Hawke, the Inquisition and my trip through eluvian capital, there is little that still can surprise me.”

“Well, this might just do. I have talked to our little Snowflake.”

“What?!”

“I didn't get a letter. I got a sending crystal.”

“What is that?”

“A small magical marvel. It is a magical gemstone that can be used for communication. They come in pairs, and you can talk with the person that has the other one. With the crystal came a small note with a date and time.”

“She has the other one?”

“Yes, though she hasn't answered any of my calls to this date, but I talked to her just before I left Minrathous. She is doing well, though she feels guilty about how she left. We talked a long time about me and how I was after Iron Bull's betrayal. I have to confess I wasn't entirely sober after that.”

“So, it is true she is back with Chuckles?”

“Yes, they are back together, and she seems happy.”

Varric sighed. “Well, at least one good thing has come out of this mess.”

“She also told me that things are far more complicated than she ever thought, and she was unsure what the future would bring.”

“You don't say. I know a lot of people don't believe what Chuckles is claiming and are more worried about the Qunari. But after what I saw in the Crossroads and seeing so many elves disappear, I know something is going to happen.”

“True, though our dear Inquisitor hasn't told everything that happened.”

Varric looked curiously at him.

Dorian chuckled. “Do you know what the first thing she did was, when she saw Solas?”

“No.”

“She slapped him with all her might.”

Varric sputtered. “She did what?”

“I think it may be not as bad with her at his side.”

“Maybe? I got an extra note with my letter, from the Dread Wolf himself.”

“Really?”

“Yep. He confessed that he had spent the last two years looking over his shoulder, fearing for a shot from my Bianca. He also thanked me for looking out for her.”

They both huffed a laugh and nursed their drinks again.

“Do you blame her?” Varric asked.

“After everything that happened to her and with the Circle looming over her head? No. Though I fear what the future is going to bring.

“If I have learned one thing over the years is that nothing is simple.” Varric lifted his mug. “Let's drink. And I think we will come face to face with her or Solas sooner than we might expect.”

.

Skyhold was once again surrounded by a thick layer of snow. Cullen shivered as the cold wind tugged at his cloak. Winter had the Frostback Mountains full in its grasp. He looked up at the sky where slowly clouds were gathering. There would fall even more snow today. It would delay his departure even further back.

Feeling a little melancholy, he gazed over the walls. It had been almost eight months since the events at the Exalted Council, and soon he and the remaining troops would leave Skyhold for good. The fortress would become a mere outpost now the Inquisition had transferred into the personal honour guard of Divine Victoria.

Currently, the main body and command centre of the Inquisition was stationed in Val Royeaux. Most of the Inquisition's operations had already been transferred; what remained at Skyhold was the clean-up crew.

Cullen looked at how little was left of the once vast field of tents and huts in the valley. So much had already been deconstructed. A caravan of wagons was being loaded to bring the last of the supplies down the mountain. It was strange, they had arrived here with so little, and now they needed weeks to clear out the fortress.

It wasn't really necessary for him to be here, but it felt right to accompany the last of his men personally when they would leave. A final goodbye to another place he had called home.

Three years they had stayed at Skyhold, and somehow it felt like he hadn't achieved anything. True, many things happened here; they had defeated Corypheus and saved Thedas, but if what Ryan had told them about Solas was correct, then Corypheus had only been the beginning. He had a hard time grasping what Solas claimed to be. To

Cullen Fen'Harel was a character from elven folklore. In the past, he had never paid much attention to the Dalish tales about their gods. As an Andrastian, he had always believed that their talks about elven gods were no more than silly fairytales. Even now that he had spent time studying those stories, he wasn't any wiser as to how to prepare for an opponent that claims to have made the very Veil itself. But one thing was for sure, Solas had outsmarted them all, even Leliana.

It had been very sobering to see how many elves had disappeared after Ryan's confrontation with Solas. Over a period of weeks, servants, craftsmen, cooks and cleaners had left. They all disappeared overnight, not leaving any trace behind. And it wasn't only the Inquisition or Orlais that reported the disappearance of elves; it was the same in Fereldan, Nevarra and the Free Marches. Tevinter was keeping quiet, but they gathered enough information to know that they also struggled with people becoming missing. Whole families had left, leaving some alienages almost empty and the servant quarters abandoned. There were even reports of entire Dalish clans that hadn't been seen on their migration paths. It showed just how vastly Solas' network was and how his people had access to every organisation in Thedas.

Maybe the most dangerous thing was that no one could estimate how big Solas' forces really were. It showed just how no one took the elves seriously and how they could have operated without being noticed. Cullen had a hard time convincing others of the dangers those elves could represent. To most, the disappearance was a mere nuisance; they complained because their servants they relied on had left. And for once, they had a hard time finding a replacement.

What they didn't see was the threat those elves could represent. Cullen knew from his own experience how dangerous things could become once Solas would train these elves. The Inquisition itself had started this way; the first soldiers under his command were recruits from Haven, men and women who barely knew how to hold a sword. The same recruits turned out to be brave soldiers that won many battles and helped to defeat Corypheus.

Solas had achieved what hadn't happened in seven hundred years; he was uniting the elves of Thedas. Though Cullen couldn't guess what Solas' plan was. He had said to the Inquisitor that he would destroy the world, but Cullen doubted that Solas would destroy it in such a way that his allies wouldn't survive. But he wondered what Solas' plans meant for the humans. Whatever it was, it wouldn't be peaceful. With how things were now, no human nation would support any claim of the elves for land or power.

He shook his head. No, whatever was going to happen would end in more bloodshed.

His thoughts went to Eirlana. Was she back beside the man she loved? Or had Solas cast her aside just like after the defeat of Corypheus. He felt a pang in his heart thinking of her. He missed her more than he wanted to admit, and although she had rejected him, he hoped that wherever she was, she was happy.

.

Cullen entered his quarters, a familiar headache pulsing in his head. Without Eirlana's healing, his headaches had returned, as well as his cravings for lyrium. He sat down at his desk, feeling drained. With a sigh, he rubbed his tired eyes, knowing there wasn't any escape from his withdrawal. But there was no time to rest; even in an almost abandoned fortress, paperwork was waiting for him. Letting out another sigh, he grabbed a report to be read when his sight fell on a small raven scroll lying in front of him. With a frown, he took it, wondering where the scout had gone to who had delivered this. A message from a raven typically meant they needed a reply immediately. With ease, he broke the seal and unrolled it. A small pressed elfroot leaf fell out of it, and Cullen's heart skipped a beat when he recognised the familiar handwriting.

.

____________________

Cullen

I don't know if you want to hear from me, but I have a request.

Meet me alone at the grove tonight. I will be waiting for you.

Eirlana

.

____________________

.

Cullen sat there stunned, re-reading the short message. Why would she contact him? Grabbing a drink from his secret stash, he stared out of the window, not knowing what he should do.

.

The eluvian sprang to life in the small elven ruin. The eluvian was half-buried in the rubble, and Himel had to bow down to step through it. Immediately he checked the surroundings. Soon he was followed by other elven soldiers that spread out and did the same. The eluvian's surface rippled again a short while later, and Solas and Eirlana stepped through it.

Himel returned to them and kneeled down. “There are no signs of any activity in the vicinity, my Lord.”

Solas fussed at the fur collar of Eirlana's cloak, pulling it tighter around her neck. “Wait here for our return.”

“Yes, my Lord.” answered Himel. “Stay safe.” He then directed his men to their stations and guard this place.

“Are you ready?” Solas asked Eirlana, stroking her cheek with his gloved thumb.

Eirlana nodded. “Just a little nervous.”

“We will be alright.” Solas stepped out of the ruins in the open and transformed himself into a huge black wolf. Crouching down, he waited until Eirlana had climbed on his back. Once she had securely grabbed his fur, he rose and took off. The sun was setting, turning the snowy peaks into orange and pink hues wherever the twilight managed to peak through the heavy snow clouds. When they arrived at the mountain ridge surrounding Skyhold, night had fallen, and Solas slowed down. Casting a spell to hide himself and Eirlana, he carefully made his way over the mountaintop and down the valley. As of yet, he couldn't find anything unusual other than that the walls had far fewer guards and that the fires in the settlement surrounding the lake had dwindled in number. Skyhold was almost abandoned. Confident that there was no trap waiting for them, he fade-stepped the last distance into the grove.

Solas waited again, listening, smelling for any sign of trouble before lowering himself so Eirlana could slip off his back. He transformed back and walked with Eirlana to the oak growing at the far end of the grove. Silently Eirlana lay a couple of white flowers on the grave of their unborn daughter. She shivered when Solas took her in his arms, it still hurt that she had lost her, but the pain didn't sting as much as it used to. She could feel how Solas also mourned the loss. It was strange to be with him here together after the years she had mourned alone. But she was grateful they finally could share their loss without the burden of their secrets between them.

She leant against Solas, and he pressed a kiss on her head. “She will always be a part of us.” he said softly. “And who knows, maybe she has decided to come back.” His hand stroked her tummy tenderly. Under his fingers, he could feel the spark of a new life. “You have given life to something precious again.”

She shivered again under his loving stare, which turned concerned immediately.

“Are you alright? Do you feel cold? Do you need something?”

Grabbing his hand, she smiled. “No, I am fine. We both are. Though it's strange to be suddenly in the snow again.” She squeezed his hand to reassure him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Solas' ears twitched as he heard footsteps in the distance.

“Stay back.” he whispered and turned back into a wolf. He narrowed his eyes when he saw the glow of a lamp. Silently he moved forward, curious if Cullen had heeded Eirlana's request.”

.

Cullen stepped into the grove alone. It had just begun to snow, and he peered through snowflakes, wondering if Eirlana would really be here or if he was about to step into a trap. Maybe Leliana was trying to test his loyalty in a twisted way. She had become highly suspicious and vigilant after what happened at the Exalted Council. Seeing no one, he walked further when suddenly a giant black wolf appeared from the dark. It was double the size of a big war-horse, and its six yellow eyes were glaring at him.

Startled, Cullen dropped the lamp and reached for his sword, cursing he hadn't brought his shield.

“Cullen?” Eirlana's voice called for him.

He hesitated to draw his weapon further when he saw her approaching from behind the wolf.

“I come as your friend. Are you alone?” she asked.

“I am alone.” he answered, not taking his eyes of the wolf. It had to be Solas, he thought. Slowly he sheeted his sword and spread his hands. “I am not here to hurt you.”

Eirlana smiled, seeing Cullen's gesture. “Solas, please.” she turned to Solas.

Solas took another deep sniff before he was satisfied that Cullen was telling the truth; with a whoosh, he turned back. He gave him another silent stare before he spoke. “You have nothing to fear from me, Commander. I am merely here to escort her.” He kissed Eirlana on her forehead before he stepped back and leaned his back against a tree, not letting his guard down.

.

Cullen felt a chill running through him; Solas wore a full golden and black elven armor under a black-furred coat. He looked nothing like the humble apostate Cullen knew. Though he had the same face, his body language and expression had changed dramatically. It now screamed confidence and self-esteem, and even without having consumed lyrium for years, Cullen knew he had never faced a more powerful mage.

It was a stark contrast with how Eirlana looked as she approached him. Her armor consisted of a silverite breastplate and arm guards, both of elven design and richly engraved. Under them, she wore finely tailored blue robes that were silver embroidered. Her cloak was lined with white furs. She looked radiant, like a noble elf from one of the old elven legends he recently read. Her hair had been intricately braided and decorated with a silver circlet. He also noticed silver jewellery encasing her left ear. It curled along her whole ear and had a couple of silver chains dangling down. Both jewels were adorned with small blue gems that glittered in the light of the lamp.

Cullen was stunned, not knowing if what he saw was real. Before him stood the two most wanted elves in all of Thedas. And they had just shown up, taking the risk of him betraying her request. Although now Eirlana was coming closer, he also could feel her magic radiating from her. It was stronger than ever before.

“Cullen?”

He realised he had been staring at her. “I...”

Not only Solas demeanour had changed, but she had also changed. She seemed stronger and more at ease. There was an air of self-confidence around her she usually only displayed when she worked as a healer. Her eyes had lost the sadness that he had seen in the past two years. She looked more content, happy. It gave Cullen both a feeling of relief and sadness.

.

“I am sorry about the way we parted ways.” Eirlana smiled at him.

Cullen looked back at Solas for a second. He was still leaning against the tree, he looked relaxed, but Cullen could tell he was listening and watching for any sign of danger.

He focussed back on her; he needed to know. “I understand, but I have to ask. Did you know about Solas?”

“Did I know he is Fen'Harel?”

He nodded.

“Yes, I knew. Did I know about his plans or his involvement against the Qunari at the Exalted Council? No. Though I always intended to leave the Inquisition and look for Solas after the Council.”

It shocked him that she knew about Solas' identity, but it wasn't surprising she had planned to leave the Inquisition. He couldn't see her go into a Circle.

Eirlana huffed a laugh. “This is more difficult than I thought. I want to tell you so much, though I find it difficult to find the right words.”

Cullen rubbed his neck, feeling awkward. This is ridiculous; they used to talk all the time. Why did he freeze now? “How... how are you?” he asked; it was the first thing that popped into his mind.

She looked at her feet, gathering her thoughts. “Good.” she looked at him. “I want to say wonderful, but it is more complicated than that. There is much I need to consider.”

He shook his head lightly and smiled. Her answer reminded him of Solas and how he used to give answers that only resulted in more questions. “I see you have spent much time with Solas.”

A beautiful smile of love and affection spread on her lips, giving Cullen a slight sting of jealousy, but he was also relieved to see her so happy.

“I did.” she answered. “Though many matters demand our attention.” She stared at the mountains in the distance. “Everything is much more complicated than I ever could imagine. Good and evil, right and wrong, they are not so easy to define anymore.” Sighing, she looked back at Cullen. “But I didn't come here to discuss such matters. I came to help you. Your symptoms must have returned for a while now.”

He nodded slowly, perplexed that she put herself in danger for him. They must be aware that both the Inquisition and the Chantry were looking for them. Not that their searches had any results, but they both had to know the danger they put themselves in by coming here. And yet, here she was, taking the risk of being captured just to help him.

.

“Come. Let's sit down.”

She walked towards the frozen water of the grove's spring and sat down on its stone edge. Cullen glanced at Solas, who watched them without saying a word before he followed her. She had removed her gloves and

raised her hands towards his face, activating her magic. He closed his eyes as her familiar magic engulfed him. As always, a sense of relief and peacefulness washed over him, chasing away his headache and discomforts of his lyrium withdrawal. Then something changed; he could feel her magic going deeper. The residual lyrium within him reacted immediately; he could feel it hum and answering the call of her magic. It felt both peaceful and overwhelming at the same time.

Cullen wondered, what more had she learned over these past months?

He took a sharp breath when he could feel the lyrium leave his body, burning away like small timber. It gave him chills throughout his body. He inhaled deeply when the magic finally ebbed away, and he felt cleansed and whole again. A little disorientated, he opened his eyes. Solas had moved next to them and offered his hand to help Eirlana up. He hadn't even heard him approach.

Looking at him, she smiled. “Thank you for coming and honouring our friendship. I won't ask secrecy from you. You may tell everyone what has occurred here.”

She pulled out a satchel from a small bag she carried. “Here this is for the others. It is not as effective as my abilities, but it will help them. I am sorry, but I can't risk it to meet them.”

Still, a little dazed, Cullen took it. “I will see to it that they get it.”

“ I have included the recipe to make more. Adan or any other skilled alchemist should be able to make them.”

Solas suddenly whipped his head around and stared up the walls of Skyhold. They could faintly hear some guards talking. He turned back and pulled Eirlana's hood up. “I am sorry, my love. It is time to leave.”

She nodded and gave Cullen a smile. “Farewell.”

Then she turned around and walked back to one of the bigger oak trees.

Cullen watched her before focussing again on Solas.

Solas studied him before he spoke. “I have to thank you for protecting her when I couldn't. I will never forget what you have done for her. I hope that our paths won't cross when you are operating in the name of the Chantry or the Inquisition. Live well, while time remains.”

He inclined his head and then joined Eirlana. Cullen noticed when he turned he had the same elvish ear ornament that she wore. Only his was crafted from dark metal.

Solas transformed into a giant wolf again and crouched down so Eirlana could climb on his back. Watching them, Cullen stood up and immediately could feel a difference in his body. Gone was the stiffness and the pain he was used to. He huffed, not even remembering a time when he wasn't in discomfort. His head was clear, and the constant calling for lyrium had disappeared.

“Goodbye, Cullen.” Eirlana said to him.

“Goodbye.” he answered. “Eirlana. I... please stay safe.” he then raised his voice a little. “And you! Don't you dare to leave her again, or a swear by the Maker I will...”

The wolf turned his head and closed slowly his to many eyes, as if he was acknowledging him. Eirlana smiled at Cullen and ruffled Solas fur. Cullen watched as they both turned invisible and a trail of paw-prints and disturbed snow let into the darkness. By now, it was snowing heavily, and Cullen knew that their tracks would be gone by the morning. Wondering what the future would bring, he walked back to Skyhold. At that moment, he shared Solas' sentiment and hoped he would never be forced to face Eirlana as an enemy.

.

Solas ran over the mountain passes. His heart tugged as he felt Eirlana's sorrow as they left Skyhold behind. He could understand her pain. She had given up so much to be at his side and would face even more heartbreaking decisions in the future. It was a fate he couldn't spare her from.

Suddenly her hand stroked the fur by his ear. Now they were truly bonded; she could feel his sorrow as he could feel hers. There was a spike of gratitude towards each other as they knew they were not alone.

Travelling through the snow, they went to face an uncertain future. But they knew one thing for sure. Being bonded, they would face it together.

.

This is the end so far. I can't wait for DA 4 to blow our minds again with long lost secrets and hidden lore. And our next heartbreak that will come (thnx Bioware ;p)

We already know that the next wizard in our party will have some hidden agenda. And I hope we will finally be able to romance a dwarf.

Until we meet again, for I am not finished writing fanfiction in the epic world of Dragon Age

[dutydreamed-a]

       Lanathara’s name translates (approximately; elvish is wack) to “I give part of myself freely.” Silvhen’s means “Someone who thinks of others before himself.” Alhannon and Ferona named the twins with the traits that they hoped they would embody: selflessness and devotion, mainly, but also kindness, compassion, and loyalty. Growing up, they were largely normal children who bickered, and disobeyed, and got into trouble, but they also latched onto the old tales with a fervor and took the meanings of their names very seriously.

       They both have always had large amounts of self-awareness, good at picking apart their own motivations and feelings and learning from their mistakes. When they are together, it becomes clear to onlookers that they are very similar people who simply manifest different aspects of their personality. Lanathara (mostly from her training as First) presents herself with reserve and diplomacy in situations with acquaintances or strangers, holding her cards close to her chest. Silvhen conducts himself boldly and almost brashly, though with warmth; his confidence never quite reaches arrogance. Of course, Lanathara shows her playful & bold side in more familiar situations, while Silvhen is perfectly capable of propriety when needed.

[xfrozendreams]

Some headcanons about Eirlana, because I love Alnirafenen’s wolf companion a lot. 

Alnirafenen was only going to keep Eirlana until she could fend for herself. Then they both got attached to each other and were very much kindred spirits that Alnira couldn’t bear to let her go, and to be honest, Eirlana would have come back anyway. 

When Eirlana is bigger than a pup, she roams Haven and then Skyhold on her own often. This kind of freaks out a lot of newcomers, but most are warned prior about the Herald’s/Inquisitor’s wolf companion. I imagine once, though, someone was not warned and they tried to attack Eirlana. Alnirafenen wanted to punish him harshly, but figured it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know that Eirlana was not an enemy. So she punished him with forcing him to clean up after Eirlana for a couple of months. 

Eirlana sleeps in Alnirafenen’s cabin in Haven and then her room in Skyhold. If it is cold enough, she even sleeps in Alnira’s bed. 

Eirlana will go on missions with Alnira and her inner circle. She fights demons and other enemies with a wild ferociousness. She also will protect Alnirafenen with her life — and has come close to losing it only once, which almost destroyed Alnira. 

The two are so in-sync that people wonder if Alnira can actually speak to wolves or something. They seem to have unspoken conversations, to understand each other better than most people understand each other. It’s a little weird to people who aren’t used to it. 

Eirlana loves scritches. Please give her all the scritches. Please. 

[blonde-giraffe]

My Eirlana Lavellan!! SHE’S SO PRETTY AAH

Comm for @blonde-giraffe ✨

Lovely Lavellan ^^

[wolfoncaffeine]

(using dragon age day as an excuse to post a piece of this wip)

Solas folded his hands behind his back, eyeing her without turning fully to face her. “I am beginning to believe that you are bent on courting death at every turn,” he said, voice cool.

“Of course you’d bring that up,” Eirlana replied, crossing her arms.

“Do you value your own life so cheaply?”

“I am painfully aware that it was dangerous,” she said, mirroring his tone, “but there wasn’t time.”

“You should have at least consulted with someone.”

“So I’ve been told.” She glared into the sun, barely a silver between distant mountains, instead of at him. In her peripheral, he watched, waiting. “I just…didn’t want anyone else to die because of me.”

“Because of you?”

“Corypheus came for the Anchor. Whatever I did at the Conclave tied it to me; I’m at least partly responsible for all this ruin.

“You are not.” He turned toward her, a shade of resolution in his voice. “Whatever mad plan Corypheus is following, it is his own. You are not to blame for attempting to stop him, then or now.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “Okay.”

“Your recklessness, however, is not what I most wanted to speak to you about.”

Shifting her weight to one hip, she lightened her tone, aiming for levity. “Oh? What else have I done?”

His lips quirked. “Nothing that calls for reproval. Its opposite, in truth. The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting.”

She blinked, hoping her surprise didn’t show. “Our people?” That’s new.

“Their faith is hard-won, lethallan,” he continued, “worthy of pride, save one detail. The threat Corypheus wields? The orb he carried? It is ours.”

Her breath caught, surprise skittering into something sharper.

[losttr3asur3]

My two new Lavellans Ashara and Eirlana. Ashara will be romancing Iron Bull and I will be trying to finish my Solas romance with Eirlana.

[spicywarl0ck]

WIP-Wednesday

I got tagged by the lovely @kunstpause​, and unlike last week.... I did not forget to participate this week.

For this week, have another snippet of my ongoing BDSM Solavellan AU Unleashed: The truth was, that she felt exactly like that. She felt as if she lived a role her entire life, embracing the perfect girl that her parents and professors wanted to see in her. Living up to their expectations was what she did ever since she could remember. But the truth was, that she wasn’t the perfect girl that everyone saw in her. And, it seemed that Solas was able to see that. That he was able to see her, stripped bare of the lies and the image that she put onto herself.

Could this mean that she was so fond of him because she could be herself with him?

‘Ah, but speaking of the devil… look who just walked in.’ Eirlana pulled her out of the thoughts once more, causing her heat to be faster at the mere thought about spotting him on another casual occasion.

And, yet… her expression fell slightly when she saw him with the woman who walked beside him. She was beautiful, walking with confidence while she wore a top with a low cut out that didn’t do much to hide her breasts underneath the burgundy coloured fabric. Her dark hair was tugged up, tight leather pants embracing her thighs while her make up was on point too. To sum it up, she was the complete opposite to her. Which was something that made her even more unsure.

Was this woman his girlfriend after all? Not that this was any of her business of course, and yet… she couldn’t help to feel a bit… disappointed? Sad? She couldn’t say to be honest, and she let her eyes flutter down for a moment before they shifted to Solas once more.

I’m tagging (without any pressure as always)

@charlatron​  @elveny​ @scharoux​ @kemvee​ @zuendwinkel​ @queen-kass-the-writer​  @schoute​​ @pikapeppa​​ @jacklyn-flynn​​ @thefoxinboots​​ @wardenari​​ @jentrevellan​​ @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold​​ @dalish-rogue​​ @lavellanvibes​​ @musetta3​​ @starsandskies​​ @ashalle-art​​  @dismalzelenka​​ @blarfkey​​ @noire-pandora​ @hollyand-writes​

[wakeupshep]

things i hoped for and got from veilguard:

- pretty, visually lush environments and sets. except there was little depth to them, ie the relic storage chamber in Arlathan having no codices explaining what the Veil Jumpers think the relics’ intended uses were. or the Dellamorte estate giving us no family history. also that mansion was an example of a bad set — almost empty of any furniture and entirely of personality; there’s a side room with three huge couches centered around absolutely nothing and nothing else in the room.

- interesting lore. except also missing a lot of potential depth and plus a cartful of dropped narrative threads (not counting the lore that is just outright bad, unimaginative writing). you say the Kal’Sharok dwarves purposefully blight themselves? well how does that work? how do they avoid succumbing to the taint? tell me more abt how Kal’Sharok’s society differs from Orzamarr’s. also the Titans — blighted lyrium vs angry lyrium. were the only Titans who produce red lyrium those who fell to the dagger, while angry lyrium is from those killed in battle prior? did Valta’s consciousness travel through the Stone to the oracle (also a Titan??)? why? what happened to the Titan she joined with on the Storm Coast? the Forgotten Ones — what was the war between them and the Evanuris? how was Solas considered to be of both groups? and the Forbidden Ones — when and why did they abandon the elves? how were they “bound”, to something/someone or to a certain shape? are the eluvians powered by lyrium and that’s how the one in Mahariel’s origin became blighted?? one of the memories implies the Veil was an accidental side effect of imprisoning the Evanuris and we get nothing more on that??? the rest of the Evanruis are dead now you say? when tf did that happen?? and a thousand other things.

- romantic happy ending for Eirlana. except that he STILL wouldn’t back down initially and his surrender relied on Morrigan with Mythal’s essence, when it would’ve been far more interesting and compelling if the Inquisitor had received it, especially if they drank from the Well. i get why Mythal’s input was integral but jeez an Inquisitor who wants to save to him, and especially one who loves/d him, should’ve been the one to finally snap him out of it. yes Solas your actions may’ve led to Mythal’s death but what abt the person who (almost) convinced you the “sundered world” was just as worthy??

three things. only fulfilled at surface level and even then. ugh.

[blarrghe]

would be really great if adorable domestic ficlets about sequel!Twelve Nights (a thing that DOES NOT ACTUALLY EXIST there’s NO PLAN) would stop jumping into my head while I’m trying to finish this chapter of the Merrill Sessions and you can blame Taren and Dorian and the baby if I don’t. anyway this one is called Favourites: -- Kindergarten is a time of self discovery.

Bracha is five years old now, which means she can start kindergarten, and she is very excited. Taren is excited for her, in a your-happiness-is-my-happiness kind of way, even if he’s openly shedding tears as they pull up to the school parking lot. Dorian is not so generous. He is, frankly, just upset. He’d made a very good case as to why she should continue to learn from them, at home, including: they have more advanced degrees between the two of them than the entire staff of the elementary school put together, Bracha can‘t take field trips to the library or the valley to learn about ancient Tevene history or Dalish trail-signs or bugs every day if she goes to Kindergarten, and also, Kindergarten doesn’t have cuddling.

But apparently, Kindergarten actually takes a lot of field trips to the library and to the valley and even to the next town over to the science museum, Kindergarten’s teacher is a well-loved Dalish woman with wonderful credentials and two upstanding young teaching assistants whom Taren knows personally, and apparently having advanced degrees in astrophysics and business does not better suit one to teaching reading and social-emotional skills than ones in early childhood education and developing pedagogy. Also, Bracha really wants to go to Kindergarten, all her friends are going to Kindergarten, and ever since Autie Dee bought her a backpack in preparation, she hasn’t taken it off. So Kindergarten won that argument, though Dorian made a deal with his husband that they would reevaluate the situation in a year or two, because by that time beginning her education in astrophysics would be warranted, anyway. And now they are in the school parking lot and Taren is quietly weeping and Bracha is bouncing up and down in her carseat with her bright green backpack in her lap and her hair in already-messy braided pigtails, and Dorian has to be the one to get them inside.

Taren wipes his eyes as Bracha drags them up to the door, one of her tiny hands in each of her fathers’, and Kindergarten’s teacher is wearing overalls and a bombastic smile, greeting each child with a fun name-tag sticker and slow, patient directions for navigating her classroom: cubbies for their snacks, a reading nook with pillows if they get tired, activity tables, colouring sheets and markers in one station, a table filled with water and toys, bins of costumes and a kitchen set, a colourful carpet by the board where they’ll sit for stories and songs; a five-year-old’s dream. Dorian gets the feeling that the information package is more for them than it is for her, especially considering that Bracha practically sprints off to an easel equipped with water-colour fingerpaints the moment she spots it, and the teacher continues explaining the plans for the day without her.

Taren smiles, somehow finding one at the sound of Bracha’s laugh when she spots a friend across the room, while Dorian wonders if he can inspect the reading nook. But they make it out of there, somehow, and before driving them home, Taren drives them both over to Auntie Dee’s, and she sighs at them and gives them ice cream. Taren blushes, and Dorian is distracted: when Taren was little, ice cream always helped, she says. Taren protests that he has never mended a hurt with ice cream, while digging into the container for more, and Auntie Dee says chocolate chip was his favourite.

Favourite is an interesting word. Someone at Bracha’s school introduces her to the word, the blighted teacher, probably, and then soon Kindergarten is her favourite. It stings the first time, Kindergarten is her favourite, Miss Jessa is her favourite, but then Lara is her favourite, Eirlana is her favourite, Daven is her favourite, rocks are her favourite, animal-shaped cookies are her favourite... Dorian is pretty sure that she doesn’t know what the word actually means, and he calms down. A little.

But Kindergarten teaches her many things, not just new words, but new skills. He still won’t admit it, but when she comes back with letter recognition and blends, reading sight words and rhyming word families, when she starts counting in three languages and subitizes the numbers on the dice during board game night, when she tells him a story one night and evaluates that the problem in it was solved by sharing without any prompting, he starts to think that maybe Kindergarten is actually doing her some good. Soon, she figures out that with ‘favourite‘ you can have as many as you can come up with categories, and so the obsession continues.

Bracha loves to tell anyone who will listen, and with even more enthusiasm ask in turn, about favourites. It makes for surprisingly stimulating dinner conversation. The entire family learns many things about one another. From favourite colours (Bracha’s is rainbow, Dorian’s is green because black isn’t a colour, and Taren’s is also rainbow), to favourite foods (Bracha’s is waffles, Dorian’s is something he had once in Antiva but can’t remember the name of, made better by its unattainable mystique, and Taren’s is soup, which is cheating because anything can be soup — this argument takes up all of dinner, and by the end of it his favourite is determined to actually be pumpkin pie.), to more substantial questions like “what is your favourite day” (clarified to be as in ever in the history of ever — they all pick her birthday), and “what is your favourite book” which all of them flatly refuse to answer.

Dorian learns things he never thought to learn about his husband. His favourite flowers are pink heather, his favourite fish is starfish, his favourite animal is a blackbear, his favourite shirt is the one Dorian gave him three Satinalia’s ago and his favourite number is twelve. He winks at Dorian like it hasn’t always been. Dorian also finds himself taking stock of things he never has before; considering his favourite socks — knitted by Auntie Dee, obviously, his favourite toy — a duck he had when he was little, and hasn’t thought about since, his favourite colour of apples — after determining which, he starts buying the green ones more. She asks for some truly bizare determinations too, such as his favourite sense; Kindergarten went to the science museum that day, so he takes the teachable moment to say proprioception and then teach her the hidden-hand trick, because he needs to solidify that he is still smarter than Miss Jessa.

He learns that Bracha likes green apples too, and that she knows because they did an experiment at school where they tried all the different ones and filled out a graph, that her favourite toy is the bear he got her the day they took her home (though he knew that already, its name is Chauncy and it follows her everywhere), her favourite socks were also knitted by Auntie Dee and they are her favourite because they are rainbow, and her favourite sense is definitely proprioception — she cannot wait to tell Miss Jessa about it. When he puts her to bed, he reads her her favourite story, which they’ve agreed is a designation that can rotate each week, and she points out all the sight words. (Her favourite sight word is “no” — she doesn’t declare this, of course, but considering how often the five year old uses it, Dorian can’t be fooled.) When she is sleepy and slumping, her head nodding into her pillow, she reaches up towards his face and pulls his cheek into a kiss, before he can finish the tale.

“Thanks daddy,” she mumbles, and it squishes into him like a hug every damn time, “you’re my favourite.”

“What about papa?” he smiles softly, returning the kiss with the softest scold — it’s probably not okay to let her pick favourites — and she nods, eyes closing as he pulls the covers up over her.

“Papa is my favourite too. Miss Jessa says you can have lots of favourite people, it’s not like colours.” she says, then opening her eyes with a sudden thought, she adds “and actually, you can have lots of favourite colours,” very seriously. Dorian nods in serious agreement.

“Okay,” he says, “then you and papa are my favourite too.”

In the living room, after he tells him of this new rule to the game of favourites, Taren resoundingly agrees.