#female mahariel

[myceliumtrees]

dragon age origins will always be the best simply because you can get the assassin loghain sent after you bouncing on it and moaning like a girl

[paranoiajustified]

I get it if you're heartbroken that you can't marry King Alistair, but the amount of people I have seen blaming Alistair for dumping them after they pushed him into a position he never asked for or wanted makes my blood boil. You made this bed, motherfuckers, now sleep alone in it.

[maierwynn]

Among the other little details found in the library, actually seeing the Joining Chalice from Ostagar in Weisshaupt…

They were here, she was here.

I will die on the little hill of wanting the Hero to come back, because I know damn well mine wouldn’t be sitting back watching the world end. She’d be glad to kill a second archdemon, and help end the blights for good.

[thatonedalish]

Tamlen and Mahariel

[salem-wilde]

all the dragon age hype made me want to draw one of my wardens again for the first time in *checks watch* eight years. might draw some of my other older dragon age pcs, I miss them

commissions do be open

[lysblack]

Ever wondered how the events in DA:Origins would have gone if all the possible origins characters had survived?

Here you go: Aenor Mahariel's the newest, unwilling Warden recruit. But Natia Brosca, Geralt Amell, Kallian Tabris, Elissa Cousland and Duran Aeducan are all alive and kicking and definetly won't stand aside as the Blight and their enemies destroy Ferelden. Who says that only a Warden can help save the day? Ships: F!CouslandxAlistair, M!AmellxJowan, F!BroscaxLeske, F!TabrisxLeliana Status: COMPLETE. Words:249,713 Chapters:42/42

This is just the first part of a way longer project up to Inquisition where I use multiple origins for Warden, Hawke and Inquisitor, DA2 has already been written in full but not translated yet. I feel like it's important to say that all of this came to life because I couldn't romance Jowan as a Male Amell and I found that so unacceptable I had to start writing my own canon out of spite. Shipping and spite are the backbone of everything I do.

[greypetrel]

Hello! ✨ Hand-holding n.3? For the character(s) you think it would fit best 👀

Hello! 💜

Thank you for the prompt, maybe it's not what you expected but well... Some Anders for you, I hope I treated him well enough!

Tis the prompt list

No One Else Left Behind.

Hand-holding 3. - Cold hands in warm hands [ Female Mahariel & Anders | During DA2 Act II | 4533 words | AO3 link ]

The audacity of the man, really.

As if he could really disappear into the blue and avoid her discovering where he ran to, in which hole he slipped.

And indeed, he slipped into such a literal shithole that it had taken her some time, to his credit. Something pointless, nonetheless: Alyra found him anyway.

To say it shortly: she was pissed off when she returned to Vigil’s Keep, heart in pieces because Morrigan had gone through the eluvian and she couldn’t bring herself to follow, and the first thing that she was welcomed with was that.

Anders had disappeared.

In a fit of rage, because it had really been a hell of a week and the next would have been worse, since she was expected in Denerim for an important Council, she swore he could die in a ditch for all she cared, and went on with her life.

It was a low hit, but he was a free man, she guessed. He was free to go.

She searched what had been his room far and wide, that evening, when she was still angry about it. Any hint, any note would do, just a goodbye to calm her down, help her find a peace she was missing: there was nothing. He had collected his few things and left. Nathaniel knew nothing about it, Velanna neither. They woke up and he was not there, after being weird for days. He hadn’t speak to anyone, just looked pensive and distracted, less prone to joke around. It felt weird, but he’d been quieter ever since he took Justice in.

She wasn’t so cruel as to send soldiers after him. Not after the Circle. She didn’t peg herself as being a good person, in any way: she killed too many people to be one, and set on the throne the least person that wanted the position. Maybe it was fooling herself, but she at least considered herself better than that, anyway.

She told her spies to be on the lookout for him, and resigned herself to peg Anders in her long list of shortcomings.

Four years later, her spies found him.

She dyed her hair dark, dressed in casual clothes and jumped on the first ship to Kirkwall, sending word to Alistair that she would be gone for a couple of weeks at worst, and congratulating Nathaniel for finally being in charge of the Bannorn. Temporarily.

---

Kirkwall was a shithole, and Alyra hated it.

The Gallows let her deeply suspicious. She took a look at the courtyard, since she was there, wondering why exactly the ships had to stop there before reaching the city. Austere and with the air of a prison. Templars and mages looked at each other sideways and- had she already met that Templar in the corner, the one with a pole up his ass? His face felt familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she had seen him. She would have remembered, if it was important, and the least time she spent in there, the happier she was.

When she landed in Kirkwall, she missed the Gallows.

The Gallows at least were fairly clean and didn’t smell so much of… she didn’t want to know what exactly the Docks smelled of.

“Fucking Anders…” Alyra muttered between her teeth, as she side stepped to avoid a suspiciously looking puddle.

Why there were suspiciously looking puddle on the street? Who was in charge of this city, and why the problem had not been addressed? She knew the Qunari presence was a threat, but judging from Sten, it wouldn’t have been a hindrance for some-

- she turned on herself quickly and snatched the wrist attached to the hand that was just slipping into her bag, pivoting so she could twist the attached arm around and press it to the back of the thief, and pin them in place.

“No.”

She just hissed… Him. Too young. 13 at best, a mousy face filled with dread and pimples, ragged clothes patched in more than one spot, a toe peeking out from a hole in his left shoe. Not the face of a convinced criminal. She huffed in annoyance, twisting his arm a little -not to hard to hurt him, but enough so the lesson was understood.

“Next time you want to pickpocket someone, choose your targets better. Elves are either used to be in slums, or trained to hunt. Not a good place to start. Choose a person in fine clothes, they usually don’t expect it and won’t notice if they’re missing few coins.”

The boy looked at her with wide eyes, blinking twice before shily nodding to signal he understood. Alyra huffed and pushed him forward, with little grace, but just enough to send him stumbling and not falling.

“I- Th-thank you. Sorry, ma’am.” The boy fumbled, turning back to look at her.

“Don’t get caught.” She reminded him, nodding and walking past.

She clutched her bag a little closer: one warned pickpocket was enough for the day, and she wasn’t there to start a class on how to rob people. Because Kirkwall wasn’t even good for that, apparently.

Recover the lost idiot, get back on the first ship. Easy.

---

Of course he had to choose the sewers to open a clinic.

Alyra didn’t want to even think about it, and about how many illnesses and infections the patients ended up with. The very idea sent shivers down her spine, and every step she took in this Creators-forsaken town made her think that really, the problem-waiting-to-explode that was the Gallows was not that bad, after all. If she only could remember where did she saw pole-up-his-ass and exert a favour to have a clean bed…

But she didn’t, and she needed to be there. She entered the clinic and scrunched her nose at the nasty mixture of smells, following a group of people that entered there.

It was busy, and for the state it was in and the location, it wasn’t as filthy as it threatened to be.

The linens were clean, the pavement as clean as it could be, every patient on their own cot.

She sat on one, grunting in assessment as a person asked her if she was severe. She observed the place, looking at the people there. Lower classes and refugees, judging by the poor state of their clothes. Humans and elves and dwarves, sporting all kind of wounds. She found peculiar that so many had what clearly were cuts from a sword or a dagger, but for her own mental sanity, decided not to dwell much about it.

A group in a corner stayed separated, looking around with suspicious eyes, clearly on alert. Mages, she could have bet: they were in no physical shape to be thugs, had too much meat on their bones to be beggars, and were a little too clean, their clothes a little too well sewn. Stupid mages, at that: isolating would only attract suspects on them, make them stand out. Another thing she didn’t dwell much on, but it didn’t take a genius to assume their presence there could mean the clinic was a cover for something else. In the state of the city and its Circle, they wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t a safe place. And if she knew Anders just a little, he would be dead before leading them back to the Gallows.

Speaking of which.

He stepped out of a backroom, drying his hands on an apron and looking around with tired eyes, hair unkempt and messily tied in a half ponytail, earring gleaming in a beam of sunlight that filtered from the high windows. A little older, a little more consumed, but definitely him.

He turned, and his eyes skipped her for a moment. Stopped. He paled and his mouth opened as he realized.

Her hair was a dark shade of brown, but the tattoos sold her off. She wanted for them to sell her off to people that knew her, and that did the trick. He recognized her, and stood still as a statue staring at her. So much that one of his collaborators had to shake him to bring him back to attention. He fumbled back and tended to other patients -with nerves that were all legit, since he had the audacity to make her wait.

Finally -finally- he came to sit on her cot, clearing his throat. At least he had the good sense of being nervous about it.

“What is it?”

Hostility? Fine.

“My blood is boiling, I think I am allergic to everything in this place and I have the great urge to beat someone back to their senses.”

He frowned at her, mouth bending in a harsh line.

“Lean your head back and open your mouth, please.”

She did just so, huffing, and let him turn her head this way and that, in a pretentious visit. He took her pulse with two cold fingers on her throat, checked if she had a fever. A little quicker than he was with the other patients, but not anything too noticeable. He never was that much for stealth anyway, but at least he got decent at it. In five minutes he was finished.

“You look stable. I’ll give you some herbs to take, the pressure seems a little high. And I’d like to check you back this evening.”

The great urge to beat him back to his senses became bigger. If there wasn’t a group of mages in clear need of a shelter or something else she didn’t want to attract attention to, she would have slapped him and dragged him out.

“Will you be here for real?”

She asked, frowning at him.

“I…” He hesitated. “Yes.”

She huffed from her nose, took the pouch he gave her two minutes later, and marched right out, giving half an eye to the tall woman that entered in stride, followed by a dwarf and- was that Isabela? No, she shouldn’t stay and check. She turned her face away as the pirates turned to look at her, but didn’t hasten her steps.

“Anders! Apple of my eyes, guess who has another way to bring back a smile on this… Wow, you do are surly, today.”

The tall woman said. The accent was Fereldan, but there were so many refugees from there that it was hardly something peculiar.

She pulled her hood up and didn’t stay to listen to whatever fumbling excuse Anders pulled.

---

The night had grown chilly, the clinic was closed for the evening, and of Anders there was no trace.

Alyra would have waited days just to strangle him without any further charade. The last ship of the day was gone and the tavern she found and left her baggage in was… She didn’t want to think about actually spending the night there. It was better than the street, after much consideration about it on her part. Not by much, but at least the flooring of her room had no suspicious puddle.

Alyra hated Kirkwall.

After hours since the sunset, finally Anders showed up, walking forlornly down the stairway and using his staff as a walking stick. He had blood on his clothes and was clearly out of a ruffle of some kind. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t care to know.

He looked left and right, but she had sat in a dark corner, exactly not to be seen. She slipped out caring to be as silent as she could. One step, another, closer…

… She slapped her palm hard against the back of his neck, the slap echoing loudly in the space, as well as his instinctive “ouch”. She let him turn hastily towards her and pushed his shoulder.

“You really think I wouldn’t have found you, did you?”

She hissed, marching towards him. Anders instinctively stepped back, even if her daggers were still sheathed on her back.

“You weren’t there, you don’t know-” There was defiance in his tone, nonetheless, and he didn’t look down.

“I returned and you were gone. Not an explanation. Not a goodbye.”

“You left too!”

He stomped his staff to the ground, the air shifted to push her back with pressure. She rotated a foot behind the others, bent her knees, resisting the spell and giving it less surface to work on.

“You waltzed right out of the Keep, you were gone for weeks. There were rumours that you weren’t going to return.”

“So you believed in the first gossip you heard and gave up. Forgot oaths and responsabilities. Left Nathaniel and Velanna to do your work. For a rumour.”

Truth to be told, when she eventually found out that the track she was following was actually Morrigan, for a moment she had thought that she wouldn’t have come back. Responsibility got the better of her, anyway. As it always did. And well. Hearing that she wasn’t given that credit stung.

“You have no idea what the situation was when you left.”

“Please.” She snorted at the accusation. “Velanna is a mage as well. She did told me, I took measures.”

“Sure, she’s a Dalish, and she hasn’t spent-”

“-I’m a Dalish too, and if we’re playing what category of people the universe hates the most, I’m dragging you to Halamshiral by an ear.”

He wanted to answer, Alyra could read it in his eyes, burning bright in anger and shining with a little flesh of blue, for a moment. She rose one eyebrow at it, daring Justice to come forth, show up somehow. She would have beat some sense into his ectoplasm as well. On the house.

A full minute passed, before Anders turned his head and marched away from her, snorting aloud.

“You came here to bring me back?” He asked as he walked up the last stairwell before the clinic, without looking at her. Disgust clear in his voice.

“Do not treat me like a Templar.” She chided, cutting that off abruptly. “I came here to talk.”

“Talk.” He laughed, with no amusement. “Sure.”

She followed him up, waiting for him to fuss with the keys to the clinic – which he kept all six hanging from a string on his neck. He wasn’t all that wrong in doubting her words, but she wasn’t going to step back anyway.

“If I wanted you locked off, I would have snatched you on today, kicked you on the first ship and I would be out of this fucking sewer of a city.” It was enough to cut any answer from him. “Or I would have sent a letter to the Knight-Commander, tell her where you are and about your guest, and suggest her how to better approach you. It would have been so easy, and all from the comfort of my desk. And yet I’m here personally, and on my own.”

He stopped, hand on a key, and considered it. As much as he clearly didn’t trust her intention, he knew perfectly well she held no love for the Chantry, and didn’t hesitate half a second in killing the Templars sent to bring him back to Kinloch. Not half a second. She watched him sag down, the tension on his shoulders melting slightly as he exhaled loudly.

“Come in.”

He just told her, tiredly, and opened the door carefully. She walked in and waited until he had closed it again - the number of locks at least was adequate. Once that was done, Anders lead her to the backroom, gesturing silently towards the other end of the room not to wake up the patients that were there.

He spent the same care in opening the other door -no lock- and closing it behind her. With a snap of his fingers, he lit a torchlight and bathed the room in a dim golden light.

It was as clean as it was possible. Sub-par by her standards, but still fairly clean, if less well kept and messier than the clinic, things thrown around without care around a cot that has seen better days and a trunk whose griffon had been scraped off.

“What do you want to talk about?”

He sighed, not angry anymore but just exhausted. He didn’t care for her, and unlatched his bolero -feathered shoulders, bah-, turning her back at her.

“Start telling me why you left.”

She prodded, walking to the cot. She unlatched her cloak, folded it in two and spread it on the bed, sitting down on it. It wasn’t filthy, around this room, but it wasn’t not filthy as she would have liked. She unbuckled the harness on her chest and slid the daggers down her back, resting everything beside her, still on the bed.

“You know why I left.”

“I want to hear your version.”

He grunted, slipping out his shirt too, which he left on the ground with little order -it was bloody and needed a launder anyway- and marched to another corner, pouring water from a jug into a basin.

“Mistress Woolsey started to… Not like me.”

“Expand.”

“She started speaking of abominations and corruption and walking bombs. It was all mostly behind my back, but she didn’t care of hiding it. I caught her discussing with Varel that the right of conscription wasn’t an excuse to welcome… People like me and Justice.”

“Same problem she found with Kristoff’s corpse.”

“Yes but me being living… I could feel her watching me, constantly. She was always there, observing. Made questions that were too close for comfort. Asked me if you informed the First Warden, and when I told her I didn’t know and she should have asked you-”

“-which she did.”

“-she would have written herself and taken care of the problem. People started to whisper, the looks got more and more. Nathaniel did his best but…”

“… But Nathaniel isn’t me and he needs to learn to impose. Or were you about to say anything else?”

She corrected him before he could say anything about it. She was slow to trust, allegedly so, but Nathaniel had grown to be one of the few people she could swear her life upon. He turned towards her, ready to counter, took breath to do it…

… And release it when he noticed she was glaring at him, daring to voice that thought, without blinking. It always upset people, when she avoided blinking: it was a fortuitous surprise she had discovered once, when she actually had wanted to be sarcastic. And had put in use with great results and amusement. Well, on her part alone.

Anders grunted and turned back, cleaning a couple of wounds he sported with a wet cloth he dipped in the basin and squeezed water from.

“I wasn’t waiting for her to make you send me to Weisshaupt, and I heard the situation here was dire. I packed my things and left. Nathaniel could have found me if he wanted, I didn’t hide on the way to the ship.”

“You are the most ginormous, stupid, blank minded idiot I’ve ever set my eyes on. And I deal with Teagan Guerrin more than anyone would ever deserve to.”

In spite of that, she rose and went to kneel beside him, snatched the tin box from his hand and batted said hand away when he tried to protest. Inside she knew she would have found a set for stitching wounds: it was the same box he had back then.

“Do you really think I would have handed you to the First Warden so easily?”

She asked, holding the needle above the candle to sterilize it. She knew him and knew it already was, but she felt she had been enough in Kirkwall to not trust the cleanliness of anything, at this point.

“What could you have done? You were already in a corner with him, with the surviving the Archdemon without explanations thing. You would have had your hands tied.”

There was no blame in his voice. He really believed in what he was saying. She wondered how much Justice influenced him, because that was more Justice than Anders, to her ears. She didn’t ask that, but she exerted less delicateness in breaking his skin to begin stitching a nasty cut on his waist.

“Ouch.”

“What hurts me the most is that you know me better than that. You just didn’t think.”

She told him, matter-of-factly. Because in the end he didn’t, and it was nastily disappointing.

“For your knowledge, I kicked Woolsey out of Amaranthine the day after I got back, when she suggested I should look for you and strike you down.”

“So she’s back to Weisshaupt?” He frowned. “But that’s-”

She snorted in annoyance, fighting the urge to stab him properly with the needle. She tied another stitch, instead.

“Did I say I kicked her out of the door?”

Silence.

“But- Weisshaupt –“

Finally the fucking audacity of his attitude was starting to crack. She had to give him credit for it.

“Weisshaupt can go fuck itself. The First Warden has only to send one soldier my way, I’m ready.”

She had spies at every border, contacts with the Crows -useful for that scope, and with the side hustle that she could send informations about them to Zevran. Leliana was alerted. The Wardens had not the numbers for an invasion, and she- well, she had the crown of Ferelden in her bed most often then not, when she was in Denerim.

“And regarding Kirkwall – move your arm.” She continued, not minding that he was too stunned to speak and starting to stitch the other cut. “You only had to tell me.”

“There is nothing you can do. The situation is-“

“-what are you doing? Mh? The clinic in the sewers attracts noise, I am surprised Meredith hadn’t caught you yet. And you should really tell the Mages you’re smuggling out of town to be less conspicuous about it, they’ll get caught in three minutes if they keep being stupid about it. And today they have been very stupid about it. I caught on in two minutes, and just because I was looking for you first.”

She cut the last stitch and retreated, sitting on her hunches and cleaning the needle and her fingers in the basin. He said nothing at all, slouching forward and breathing deeply. Defeated.

“Are you here to bring me back?” He asked, the same defeat of his posture.

Actually, she was.

“You could do so much more than this.”

She noted, not answering him. He looked at her, frowning, knowing that it was a circomvoluted way to bring him to admit what she wanted. It was a strategy: corner the opponent with sheer logic, make them have no choice but to agree with her. He knew it, tho.

“Politics did no good to this city. I’d rather actually help people survive it.”

“The Viscount is a spineless idiot and I give the city a couple of months at best before exploding, if he keeps treating the Arishok as a problem, and not an ally.” She admitted. “It doesn’t change that you’re helping with both hands tied at your back.”

She opened his trunk, shuffling inside with a snort of disappointment -everything was haphazardly put, not folded. At least it was clean. She ignored the protests that came and the note that the locket was close –“Buy a better one.”- and tossed him a clean shirt, returning to sit on the cot where she was before. He scrambled the cloth down his face, frowned at her a little more and put it on.

“Mythal’s full bosom, Anders, you have contacts with so many people in power. Nathaniel grew up here, he’d know how to move. You could write to Wynne and she would actually listen to you, of all people. March to Denerim and ask for Alistair’s help, he would say yes. You could have asked me.” She pointed out, letting some emotion in her voice. “You really think we’re all there to wait for the first good chance to lock you back again or strike you down? After all we’ve been through?”

“You never liked Justice.”

“I risked Redcliffe to save a child from possession, I remind you. And it worked.”

“Connor wasn’t possessed by his own volition.”

“Irving doesn’t need to know that. Irving can and will be swayed. I could reach Orsino and force his hand.”

Orsino would be the very last option, for her, but she didn’t tell him. Her spies reported on him as well, and she was not sure whether he was a puppet for real, forced to obey the Knight-Commander and putting up a feeble opposition as he still could, or if he was hiding something and acting so demure and agreeable to protect a secret. She would have trusted Meredith over him: Meredith was a royal bitch, but a predictable one.

Anders, tho, had no words to answer. He looked tired, more tired than she ever saw him after long days exploring the Black Marsh, or climbing down Kal Shirol. He moved to lean on the wall, bent his legs and propped his elbows on the knees, long fingers coming to twine together.

“You can’t do anything. Justice… something went wrong. He’s… Different. I am angry and I corrupted him, and now…”

So, that was the real reason for his behaviour, she thought. And damn her soft heart, but he was still her friend. Still one of her recruits, a part of the family and thus her responsibility. She brought him into this, even if just to save him from getting back into a Circle, and she grew to like him. Trust him, even. She huffed from her nose and filled the distance between them, sitting right beside him and taking his hands in hers moving them not as strong as to hurt.

He always had his fingers cold.

“Now, if you can be a little bit less of an idiot, we can find a solution. You and me, Justice can go fuck himself if he doesn’t want to help.”

She rubbed his hands in hers, closed them between her palms and breathed over them to warm them up a little. He let her do.

“Aren’t you angry?”

“Oh, I’m furious and very disappointed and disgusted by this shithole of a city.” She admitted, shrugging. “I would love nothing more to slap your face, weren’t you looking like a miserable wet cat.”

He snorted half a laughter from his nose, lips curling up in a smile.

“But you’re part of my clan, and I swore long ago that I would have never left anyone else behind.”

She didn’t need to add anything more. She let go of his hands and crossed her arms, leaning fully on the wall too -do not think of the noise of water you’re hearing, do not think of it- and closed her eyes.

After a moment, he carefully and tentatively leant on her side. Sighed, when she didn’t move.

“I’m sorry.”

“Leave lies to the professionals.”

“I am, tho.”

“I know. I was referring to all the other bullshit you tried to sell me.”

She scoffed, and he chuckled.

“As the Warden-Commander orders.”

[sapphodera]

Remade the Dalish Origin art to feature my gal Mahariel rather than generic elf man #576

[chenria]

Faelyn Mahariel - commission for @sissy-the-siren ♥

[thesummerstorms]

Niamh Amell, despite being proclaimed the Hero of Fereldan, doesn't consider herself truly Fereldan.

She was born in the Free Marches and only sent away because so many of her siblings were mages, so she isn't of Fereldan descent. She grew up locked away in a tower, never once even stepping foot into her supposed new homeland before being forcibly conscripted to die in a war she never chose.

Niamh got involved in the Civil War because people were dying, and she's good, even when she isn't kind. She largely tried to leave policy behind her that she thought would benefit the people she saw hurting. She even has the ear of the Fereldan Queen.

But Fereldan as an entity means very little to her. She has no "Fereldan Pride", and it angered a fair few people who put her on a pedestal before Zevran and Leiliana coached her on how better to hide it.

And even her seconds recruited later in the war... Well, Therasenn in Dalish. No human nation means much more to her other than a knowledge of where her people need to be more or less cautious.

Cattilara Tabris is the only one who considers herself Fereldan and she would stab every bann or arl other than Shianni (and maaayybeee Nathaniel Howe) in less than a heart beat. She hates a good deal about her country and resents the suppressionand violence woven into its history. But she actually does consider herself "Fereldan" nonetheless.

(Sometimes Nathaniel Howe looks at his superiors and his coworkers and the political shit storms they inadvertently cause and wonders if the Maker is testing him specifically. 'The Wardens are apolitical ' sounds fine in theory, but the sheer number of fires he's had to put out as the most "socially acceptable" of the Fereldan Wardens' leadership would prove otherwise.)

[mw567152]

My 10000% true ranking of all the origins from Dragon Age Origins (this is just an opinion)

6. Human Noble- so boring tbh. Like yeah you can become king/queen but come on spice it up a bit. The only interesting part was when your parents died.

5. Elf/Human Mage- Again, kind of boring, I like the part where you can meet Jowan again. And of course coming back to the tower is cool because you have a bigger reason for wanting to save the tower.

4. Dalish elf- It’s good! I like Merril and the overall story is really good and I love picking an elf, however coming back to the dalish doesn’t have the same satisfaction as the others do because it isn’t your clan, and I feel like they just added the part with Tamlen in because you wouldn’t see him again if they’d hadn’t done it. Still good.

3. Dwarven Commoner- it’s a really good story! And it’s so fun coming back to Orzammar as a dwarf and it makes killing the crime lord more satisfactory. I think the part with Leslie didn’t quite make sense to me but other than that it’s great.

2. Dwarven Noble- it was so hard to pick this or the other one for first place. This one is soooo good. I love it. Coming back to Orzammar and picking the king is so fun and this gives it extra stakes. And it’s just so fun. Playing as a noble through Orzammar is just so cool. I love it.

1. City Elf- so cool!! Such a good story, killing Vaughn was so awesome and coming back as a city elf was amazing. And it just gives you extra hatred for the humans. I love it, it’s just perfect.

[bluebeetle]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46752328

Also I wrote this while working on my longer dragon age fic and finally got around to editing it. nothing special I just wanted to write about my Warden and Awakening!Anders.

[maierwynn]

I just realized that, if I like Vukasin as Rook and make him canon in my world state, that makes Maierwynn the only heroine, all the other dudes are… well, dudes.

And you know what?

I fuck with it. Hard. Harder than the orgy in the end scene of Sausage Party. Just Davian Hawke, Danavas Lavellan, and Veles Thorne, all equally badass having a ball but slightly fearful of the only woman amongst them.

Rook: “Why is she in a cage?”

Hawke: “Because she growled at me.”

Inquisitor: “You were the one who stole her food!”

Hawke: “I didn’t expect her to go feral!”

Rook: “Don’t you know you never steal a woman’s food?!”

Hawke: “I was starving! I thought she was done!”

Inquisitor: “She looked away for three seconds! Now you’ve gone and done it!”

[cellphishthekaiju]

Hey a Dragon Age fic. Trying to get back into writing them, taking small breaks from Baldur's Gate 3

[astarfruity]

"I... have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair? It's very nice and it suits you. Simple, not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels..."

Leliana female warden romancers rise up‼️ I wanted to draw something for my babies a while but the graphics in dao are.. something and I still really have to figure out on how I wanna draw Leliana.. but this will have to do!

(Also if the hands are off, I took so many ref pics of my own hands but they were so hard 😭 she's going to fully braid it but I don't think it comes across. Oh well AA)

[frostbite-711]

All four of my heroines from my main world state in the Dragon Age games with their respective love interests. Hero of Fereldan: Amenthris Mahariel, Dalish Elf Rogue. Romanced Zevran, is an absolute bi disaster. Champion of Kirkwall: Juliet Hawke, Rogue. Romanced Fenris, Emotional Disaster. The Inquisitor: Asala Adaar, Tal Vashoth Mage. Romanced Iron Bull. An absolute sweetheart.

Rook: Assaranda, Qunari Mage of the Antivan Crows. Intends to romance Lucanis.