#generic purple!rook

[redinkofshame]

JSYK just because I don't write it/post it, doesn't mean my thoughts aren't still filled with Solavellan smut on the daily. So when I saw this perfectly innocent comic my thoughts... Wouldn't leave me alone. So here, smut be upon ye.

Keria Lavellan x Solas (in the head of) x purple!mRook

🍋 explicit

Two-and-a-Half-Some

“Nice tits, by the way.”

Rook had led Keria to one of the bedrooms in the Lighthouse to show her a sketchbook full of images of herself. Unlike the rooms they’d passed on their way up, full of sentimental knickknacks and evidence of camaraderie and constant use, this room was all but barren. Clean. Sparse.

Solas’ room.

It made her heart ache, to see how alone he’d been all this time.

She raised her eyebrow at the younger man, who flushed. His expression wasn’t flirtatious so much as ‘I can’t believe I said that out loud’.

“…Sorry.”

The poor kid. He’d clearly only been trying to make a joke to ease the tension of the moment when she’d flipped from a series of tasteful nudes to… Some positions that left little to the imagination.

At least he hadn’t commented on the appearance of her anus.

She shut the book. “Don’t be. They were pretty nice back then. His sketches are a bit outdated now, though. I’m not as young as I once was.”

Rook��s eyes went unfocused for a moment, and then he said, “He, uh, he says your hard-won wisdom only makes you all the more beautiful today.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She swallowed, heart thudding. “He always was a sweet talker. It’s true then. You can hear him?”

He nodded and pointed to his temple. “Yep. Whether I want to or not.”

“And he can hear what you hear, obviously. Does he see through your eyes?”

He nodded.

“Interesting…” She took a step closer to him and raised her hand suggestively to the toggles of her shirt, designed to be easy to use one-handed. “Would you like to see an updated version? For the sake of improving the accuracy of the sketches, of course.”

His eyes went wide. “You… Want to show me your tits?”

She smirked. “I want to show Solas my tits,” she clarified. “You getting to see them is just an enjoyable side-benefit.

As long as you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“Who in their right mind would say no to seeing the Inquisitor’s tits?” he asked, and she almost laughed at his incredulous tone. Then he added, “He’s, uh, unusually quiet. He’s not going to, like, turn me into a statue for this or anything, right?”

“He was never the jealous type,” she assured him as she began unfastening her shirt. “What about you? Any partners that would have a problem with this?”

“No. Well, partner yes, but no, we’re, uh, open to…” He trailed off, watching her hand distractedly.

She finished with the last toggle, but pointedly didn’t remove her shirt yet, waiting for him to answer.

“We’re not the jealous types, either,” he said quickly once he caught on. Then he jerked his thumb towards the door to the rest of the lighthouse. “I could go get them?”

She did laugh at that, shrugging off her shirt at last. “I think two and a half is enough for now.”

He didn’t answer, focused on her exposed skin. She arched her back prettily and ran a hand over herself, teasing her own taut nipple.

“Wow. Definitely still great.”

Keria had never though of herself as beautiful — at least, not until she’d seen the way Solas looked at her when they made love — but she’d never been particularly self-conscious either. She was surprised that some small part of her preened at the younger man’s approval.

She closed the distance between them and gently took his hand and placed it on her breast. The warmth of it and the way it moved timidly over her had her flushing with sudden need. “And can he feel what you do?”

“Who? Oh, uh, no.” Growing bolder, he had both hands on her now, kneading her breasts, thumbing her nipples delightfully.

“That’s a shame.” She ran her hand over the bulge of his britches as she said it and his breath staggered. Then she pulled back. “Unsurprising, though.”

She started on the fasteners of her own pants and Rook watched, waiting for an indication of what came next, like an eager little puppy.

Once Keria was fully nude she did a slow spin, giving both men a fully view of her decade-older body.

“I can’t understand what he’s saying,” Rook told her. “It’s elvhen. I think it’s poetry.”

“Elvhen always sounds like poetry,” she said said, affection tugging her lips and memories of him reciting beautiful words she didn’t understand while he held her against him.

She went to work on the laces of Rook’s pants, and got on her knees once his erection was freed.

Solas was always dedicated to her pleasure when they made love, rarely allowing her to do the same for him. He couldn’t stop her now, though. So she took her time and made as big a spectacle as she could, maintaining eye contact with this stranger whose head held the love of her life. She stayed focused on those eyes as she ran her tongue along Rook’s shaft, then twirled it around the head, as she took him deep, as she left long trails of saliva whenever she pulled back. Neither man said anything she could hear, though Rook’s groans were satisfying.

When she felt she’d teased enough, (and that Rook might not last much longer,) she pulled back and stood, swaying her hips artfully as she moved to the bed. She climbed on and mirrored one of the positions in the sketchbook, half-propped against the headboard with her knees spread wide.

He continued to stare after her as she stroke her slick core, displaying herself. She wasn't sure if his glazed look was from trying to hear Solas speak, or simple lust.

“Rook,” she said finally. “Take off your clothes and come here."

He jumped to it, almost tangling himself in an attempt to remove both his pants and shirt at the same time, half-tripping as he removed his socks while getting on the sheets. She used a hand on his jaw to guide him over her, in case he got confused about that, too.

He knelt between her legs and took his time admiring her, and she wondered if it was Solas that told him to run his hands up and down the insides of her thighs, to try gripping her hips and waists in different spots, to cup her breasts again. She whimpered with heat by the time Rook ran the head of his cock up and down her folds several times, wetting it before finally plunging into her.

She kept her eyes open and on him when normally she’d have closed them to enjoy the full feeling, the friction, the energetic thrusting his hips against hers. But though it felt odd to look so deep into a stranger’s eyes as he fucked her, she wanted Solas to see her.

Fortunately, the man spent most of his time watching his cock moving in and out of her and her fingers circling her clit, or her bouncing tits.

Then there was a flash, a flicker of blue spirit light, and suddenly his thrusts became pounding, movements becoming equal measures controlled and intense.

She gasped. “Solas?”

“Mah vhenan,” he breathed in the wrong voice, and then he was kissing, biting, sucking on her neck as he moved in her.

Her hand moved to his head but it was wrong, the hair was wrong, so she gripped his back instead and closed her eyes so she couldn’t see Rook anymore, just Solas, her Solas. She came almost immediately, the tension in her releasing with waves of pleasure rushing over her.

He rode her through her climax and then slowed, still, and kissed her. He hadn’t finished, still hard in her as he kissed her harder still. His tongue teased hers, plunging deep, like he couldn’t taste enough of her. She wrapped her arm around him as tight as she could, kissing him with a decade of frustration and longing.

When they pulled back for air she kept her eyes firmly closed, and perhaps he understood because he pulled out and she was suddenly moved, turned over so she was positioned on her knees. She arched her back exaggeratedly, still putting on a show for him. He ran his hands along her thighs, grabbed handfuls of her ass, ran fingers through her folds as he lined up his borrowed cock. He gripped her hips with both hands as he plunged into her, and she moaned his name, and, “I love you, I love you, ar lath ma.”

Whatever he said in breathless elvhen was lost on her as he pounded into her again and again, taking her like an animal. When she came a second time she finally felt his movements become less controlled, insistent and clumsy as he chased his own climax as last.

His movements slowed, stilled. She stopped propping herself up on her shaking arm and allowed herself to collapse on the mattress, and he came down with her.

“Are you still in there?” she panted.

“Yes, vhenan.” For some reason part of her was still surprised the voice was wrong. He rolled them onto their sides and she gripped his arms hard around her, unwilling to let go.

“How long do you have?”

“Not long.” He pressed feather-soft kisses against her shoulder. Then he sighed. “But I can’t leave before I tell you how sorry I am. For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, unwilling to waste this precious moments on his constant guilt. “Var lath vir suledin. I’m going to find a way to save you.” To free him from his prison in the Fade. To be together in this new world he’d made.

He kissed her shoulder again, and she thought it sounded like he was smiling when he replied, “I know.”

I know. Not ‘I know you will try’’. Just ‘I know’. He believed her.

“Solas…” she started, but she trailed off.

It didn’t feel like him anymore. Somehow, she knew he had gone.

“Rook?” she tried instead.

“Uh, yeah” he said as he awkwardly pulling his limp dick out of her. “I’m back.”

Keria bit back her disappointment to put on a satisfied smile as she turned to face him. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Hey. You doing okay? That was… Unexpected. I didn’t know uncontrolled horniness could lead to a spontaneous possession.”

He laughed, and settled back comfortably. “Yeah, neither did either of us.”

She ran her hand along his chest. “Are you feeling okay about it? I just want to check because we didn’t discuss the option before hand.”

He nodded. “Definitely. I think… I think I could have stop it? The possession. It felt weird, kind of like a build up of pressure, but I think I could have stopped it.”

“Why didn’t you?” As a mage she'd been taught to protect herself against possession her whole life. She couldn’t imagine just letting it happen.

Rook shrugged. “I wanted to see what would happen.”

Her mouth was open, but she couldn’t think of a response to that. At last, she shook and said, “Varric said you’d be trouble.”

He grinned. Then, looking a little apologetic, he said, “I was ‘there’ the whole time, you know. Like, I could still, uh, feel everything.”

She made sure to smile comfortingly so he’d know she wasn’t upset by this. “Side benefits indeed.” She kissed him — Rook, not Solas. He deserved to feel wanted, too. “Thanks for the tour of the lighthouse. Glad to be part of the team.”

[vaguely-concerned]

some excellently good and wonderful to me personally ingellvar moments from the first jaunt into blackthorn manor with emmrich! I love the little touches included to really make it feel like mourn watch mage rook is also a necromancer, and that they and emmrich are colleagues. the 'ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to please put that death lantern full of murdered souls down and step back before someone gets hurt' energy... I must reiterate my point that ingellvar carries themselves like something between a cosmic janitor or plumber and a first responder arriving at the apocalypse.

+ as is tradition around these parts: some bonus emotional support lucanis coming along on mourn watch business and having the weirdest time of it that anyone has ever had. the sheer ben affleck smoking meme energy he manages to exude just. Standing there in the second johanna confrontation... he is everything to me you see. the things a man does for love. at least he gets to have the competency kink tingles whenever rye breaks out his Watcher Voice, that can get a person through a lot. a newly discovered realm of and after all this im still horny. the human spirit is unbreakable etc. to help him weather the horrors

[merrigel]

Been way deep into Dragon Age lately (replaying Inquisition and now, just getting into Veilguard) SO!! Check out my babies!!

[woodcries]

tbh i think pre-fade prison, kione would still be willing to work things out with solas and use mythal's favor and has generally had a lot of positive character growth in becoming a leader and learning to bond with others. but that whole mission before, losing someone, finding out the truth, i feel there would be a high chance that it would trigger some kind of negative character development where in the final decision, she'd be too blinded with anger and bitterness to work things out or trick him, and end up trying to fight him physically instead and doom herself. so that's why i honestly have a hard time deciding what her truest ending would be, because i think it deeply depends on how good of a support system she has to rein her in

[tarathorntonwasright]

a fool who took one look at the bird man in bone jail and said i can’t fix him so i’ll just remind him that he doesn’t need to change in order to be lovable until he believes it🙄

then he has the nerve to make this face when she tells him “you are [enough]”

he’s so scorpio is it any wonder i’m down horrendous

i have been a zevran girl for some time, and it’s hard to simply ignore the reasons for the abuse he talks about laid out before me through this romantic/heroic lens.

but the rookanis romance has been fun! he is so socially intelligent, but not as adept when he isn’t working, and spite’s presence/egging on turns him into a lil bit of a crash out :P

meanwhile damaris was trained as a seer and because spirits are a reflection of our emotional world, she can and will psychoanalyze everyone to tears. she loves talking to spite while lucanis rests, because determination in her experience has strong convictions she can appreciate. after a time she’s able to hear him without him taking lucanis over and it’s a happy kind of threesome.

still i prefer a world where lucanis chooses to leave the crows because he is old for an assassin anyway and enough is enough. his retirement/refusal forces illario and caterina to sort through their blatant mutual resentment for one another, so the last of the family can at last know peace. then lucanis collects his assets (knives, leather boots, magical bialetti, pet snake) and goes adventuring with rook before they settle down in rivain to watch the devouring storm roll in and get married

he also takes rook’s last name :’)

[snarkspawn]

tell us more about ur lucanismancer rook please!!!

Oooof well!! What do you want to know? :'D I always find it easier to answer specific questions than to just ramble on with only my jumbled meandering thoughts as a guide lol

So uhhh ... his name is Nazeeh and he's in his early 30s, I'm kind of still chewing on his backstory so I haven't really settled on anything concrete yet except that he's from MInrathous, probably, and before he was adopted by the Mercars he grew up as a slave/indentured servant in the household of a (Venatori) magister. He's very smart but not particularly educated (and whatever the opposite of a bookworm is). Generally speaking he's very laid back, honest and direct, although he prefers hiding truths in jokes that often don't land (terrible sense of humour). He does have a temper but it mostly shows when he perceives some kind of injustice, in which case he will fight tooth and nail to right whatever he feels is wrong. He also thinks he's charming but he's really not, he's just lucky he's cute lmao

I think he came into his magic rather late so his approach is very fists first, throw lightning bolts later haha he's also an incurable optimist and very annoying about it. Like he doesn't even think of failure as an option, if you fail it just means you have to get up and try again until it works. Which also means that he often doesn't stop to think things through but just blindly jumps ahead and runs into situations that could've easily been avoided if he had taken a moment to consider all the options. He's a do-er, definitely.

In terms of the game he's an orb and dagger mage (no specialisation, more a jack-of-all-trades/whatever-works kind of thing) and mostly purple with a bit of red here and there. His best friend is Davrin but he's very close with Emmrich and Bellara as well (the latter he kind of views as a little sister, especially after the whole Cyrian thing).

Anyway, here he is with his mullet down

[lavenderprose]

I don't CARE that the old man isn't rendered wearing nail polish, it's CANON in my HEART. Rook sits on his desk on Monday nights, feet on the chair between Emmrich's knees and tongue poking out in concentration and paints Emmrich's nails carefully black (or purple if they're feeling saucy) and then they play a game called Can Emmrich Fuck Me Without Messing Up His Manicure. The answer is usually YES because Emmrich is just extremely talented and usually there's a cocurring game happening called What That Mouth Do, which negates the need for hands in general. At some point Neve sees an imperfection in the topcoat on Emmrich's thumb and mentions that she knows an incantation to dry nail lacquer instantly. She's surprised Emmrich doesn't know it. Emmrich politely informs her that he is, in fact, aware of the incantation. The back of his neck also turns red enough to make a tomato look orange. Neve decides that, for perhaps the first time in her life, she's better off not knowing.

[fairyspheres]

i saw that dragon age veilguard hasn't sold well (in the official statement, they specifically said that 1.5 million copies had 'reached players' so it must have sold even worse than that which. yikes) and while i'm quite gutted about that, ea and bioware also only have themselves to blame for it.

they let ten entire years pass between inquisition - a game that, for the most part, dragon age fans generally really like, at least for the lore - and veilguard. in those years, we saw them make andromeda, anthem, and heard reports of them trying to make the-then new dragon age game live service. thankfully we didn't get a live service dragon age game in the end, but a lot of the original writers were dropped, and i think that shows with the quality of the writing in veilguard.

i've never played dragon age for the gameplay, in any of the games. i despise the gameplay in origins - it's clunky and horrible and the deep roads makes me want to let the darkspawn win. but i love the story, which is why i endure the deep roads and the fade. the same in da2, which is probably my favourite of the entire series, even with the repeating dungeons (actually i love the repeating dungeons. i like knowing where things are), and the same in inquisition with the companions who feel like real people (cassandra pentaghast my beloved).

veilguard... the cuts show in the writing quality. the best character was emmrich (and assan and manfred) and from what i've heard he also had the best romance. which is another thing that suffered greatly - the romances (other than emmrich's). in a game series known for its romances, to the point where bioware was marketing the game as the most romantic as the series, how have they managed to mess it up that badly? cullen and solas' romances were late game additions in inquisition, and they're some of the best in the entire series, so it can't be an issue of time constraints.

rook's dialogue choices were essentially just different flavours of pleasant. do you want to be cheerful, lesser purple-hawke, or stoic? there's no real choice to be had throughout most of the game. even the choice between minrathous and treviso has little impact beyond what merchants might be available and a couple of later game choices. compared to earlier games, where you could let an entire village be overrun by corpses, or let fenris be taken back by danarius, the lack of choice is rather stark in comparison. the only real choices come at the very end of the game.

AND speaking of choices - the entire series has been about how all our previous choices have always mattered, about how we can always carry them over and use them to influence the world. so it was very much a slap in the face when not only could we not use the dragon age keep or import any choice beyond who we romanced in inquisition and what we wanted to do with solas, but the fact that by the end of veilguard, everything we did from origins to inquisition was all for nothing. bioware's choice to do that to varric was a kick in the teeth to long-term fans. oh, we got a little reference to the hero of ferelden in weisshaupt, how nice. pity they didn't tell us whether they're still alive or not. a shame we don't know hawke's fate.

so no, i'm not surprised that the game did so poorly in sales. i'm disappointed, but i'm not surprised because as i said, it's their own fault. i said back in november that they might not have another chance to make things right, and i hate that i might've been right about that.

this turned into an unintentional rant about all my grievances with the game.

[himasgod]

Sharing Valentine's Day with NRC

POMEFIORE VER.

HEARSTLABYUL VER SAVANACLAW VER OCTAVINELLE VER SCARABIA VER IGNIHYDE VER DIASOMNIA VER

SCENARIO: The morning sun shone down on Night Raven College as students prepared for Valentine’s Day. Classes had ended earlier than usual, and the hallways were filled with rumors of chocolates, a few confessions, and secret dates. Despite the general excitement for that day of remembering and sharing, you hadn’t planned anything special for that day. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But he had been acting oddly suspicious since the night before. You’d noticed his furtive glances and failed attempts at hiding smiles whenever you came near. You knew he was up to something.

With Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt and Epel Felmier

Vil Schoenheit

Valentine's Day in Pomefiore was an event in itself. From dawn, the rooms were decorated with purple and white roses, the mirrors reflected soft lights, and the air smelled of expensive perfume. Everything had been planned down to the last detail, and the person responsible could be none other than Vil Schoenheit.

You had received an invitation from Vil for a private dinner that evening. He hadn't given you many details, only insisting that you should arrive on time and dressed for the occasion.

When you reached the entrance of Pomefiore, the moon shone brightly over the castle. The golden doors opened to reveal a path lit by chandeliers. At the back, Vil was waiting for you, impeccable as always. He was dressed in a black suit with gold details, his hair pulled back in a polished braid, and his lips painted with a light touch of color.

"You're just in time," he said with a satisfied smile. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me."

He offered you his arm, and together you walked to a private terrace adorned with silk curtains and a table beautifully decorated with candles and fresh flowers.

“This is all amazing, Vil,” you said, admiring the effort he had put into every detail.

“Nothing less than perfection for this special night.”

Dinner was spent in a warm and relaxed atmosphere. Vil, always refined, personally served you each dish, explaining the ingredients and their origin. You had shared many moments before, but tonight there was something different in the air. A softness in his eyes, a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“You know I am someone who always seeks to improve, to be stronger, more beautiful, more successful,” he said, setting his glass of wine down on the table. “But with you… I feel like I don't need to change anything.”

Your eyes met, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to stop.

"Vil…"

“Tonight is not just about celebrating Valentine’s Day. I want to thank you for being by my side, even when I'm unbearable."

Vil pulled out a small velvet box and handed it to you.

“This is for you.”

Inside was a gold star-shaped brooch, encrusted with tiny diamonds that sparkled under the moonlight.

“I want you to wear it as a reminder that you always shine with your own light. You don’t need to be perfect to be special.”

You felt a lump in your throat as he helped you pin it onto your clothes.

“Thank you, Vil. It means a lot to me.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Rook Hunt

Valentine’s Day in Pomefiore was always shrouded in an almost theatrical atmosphere, and no one lived it with as much passion as Rook Hunt. His romantic spirit and devotion to the beauty of life made him the perfect ally for the occasion.

That morning, you found a note written in elegant calligraphy and a drawing of an arrow crossing a heart.

“Ma chère, the beauty of this day deserves to be explored together. Meet me at the Lounge at dusk.”

You knew it could only be Rook, with his dramatic flair and ability to transform any moment into something special.

When you arrived at the Lounge, Rook was waiting for you in a sofa decorated with vines and fresh flowers.

“Ah, my muse has arrived,” he said, smiling with genuine enthusiasm. “I was looking forward to sharing this day with you.”

Rook led you through the outside, stopping to show you every detail he found fascinating: a flower blooming in winter, the way the light filtered through the leaves, and even a tiny ladybug that had landed on his finger.

“True beauty is in the details, in the things others don’t always see,” he said passionately. “But you, ma chèrie, are the embodiment of all that is beautiful.”

His words were intense, but sincere. With Rook, every moment felt like a work of art in itself.

Finally, he led you to a clearing in the garden, where he had laid out a small picnic with pastries, fresh fruit, and a pitcher of homemade lemonade. He invited you to sit down, and once you were settled, he pulled out a small box wrapped in gold ribbon.

“This is for you. A little memento of this special day.”

Inside was a necklace with an arrow-shaped pendant.

“May you always remember that my heart is pointed towards you, always guided by the beauty I see in you.”

You were deeply touched by his gift and his sincerity.

“Thank you, Rook. This day has been perfect.”

Rook took your hand and looked into your eyes with an intensity that only he could have.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ma chèrie. May every day together be a new adventure in search of beauty.”

Epel Felmier

Valentine's Day at Night Raven College was always a mix of chaos and surprises, but for Epel Felmier, the day brought a different kind of anxiety. At Pomefiore, expectations of perfection and elegance were high, something that clashed with him honest and forthright nature.

You were in your room in Ramshackle when you heard a tap on the window. A small stone crashed into the glass without breaking it. Opening it, you saw Epel standing in the garden, hands in his pockets and a nervous expression on his face.

“Hey, can you come down for a moment?” he called out to you.

Curious, you went downstairs and found him waiting with a bouquet of wildflowers. The flowers were a little messy, but they were full of life, just like Epel.

“I'm not good with this fancy stuff, but… do you want to spend the day with me? I don't promise perfection, but I do promise something real.”

Epel led you into the woods near, where the trees still held some winter frost. The crisp air was filled with the promise of spring. You walked together, talking about anything and everything at once.

“Valentine’s Day always feels like a performance at Pomefiore,” he admitted, kicking a rock along the way. “But with you, I want to just be me.”

You stopped by a large, moss-covered tree, and Epel turned to you, his expression more open and vulnerable than ever.

“I like how you accept me just the way I am. I don’t have to prove anything when I’m with you.”

His words were so honest that they filled you with warmth.

“I feel that way with you, too, Epel. Thank you for always being yourself.”

Epel had prepared a small picnic on an old blanket he had spread out under the tree. He had brought a bottle of homemade apple cider and an apple pie baked by his grandmother in Harveston.

“It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the best I have.”

The pie was delicious, filled with the love and dedication of his family. As you ate together, the sun began to descend, and the sky was filled with golden and orange hues.

As night fell, you lay on the blanket, looking up at the stars. Epel took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Thank you for spending this day with me. I don’t need anything more than this.”

You felt a deep calm and sincere happiness at that moment. You knew that, with Epel, everything would always be authentic.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Epel.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day."

[skelebellie]

i like to imagine mourn watch rook as someone generally pretty good natured. major purple rook vibes and knows when it’s time to lend a helping hand. you have to be in order to work with nevarra’s grieving families. sure, they might get a bit frustrated/angry at the usual inequalities of thedas, but nothing out of the ordinary.

and then the team gets to weisshaupt, and you can see their brows furrow as they argue with the first warden. thinking about all the lives lost because this bald egg of a man (foreshadowing) can’t temper his pride. the anger almost invisible until it breaks like a thin string and their jaw clenches. their patience vanishing into thin air.

“you know what, i tried.”

before they knock out the first warden into next week, evka giving them control over the situation. and rook moves like a well oiled machine. not a stumble in sight as they start planning counter maneuvers.

and all of a sudden the team remembers that the jovial funny bone guy has been fighting hordes of undead and necromatic uprisings in the darkness of nevarra. digging their way out of bone and decomposing tissue just to see the listless green flames of the mourn watch.

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th, again) -

User: "Since the dialogue wheel is coming back, will our choices set our Rook as diplomatic/humorous/aggressive with varying tone and voice lines similar to Hawke being able to be blue/purple/red?" John: "Not to the same degree - we want to give you the freedom to play your Rook differently depending on who they're talking to (you might be kinder to your companions and brusque with authority figures, for example), but your tone choices will have an impact within a conversation and, sometimes, with specific characters across multiple conversations." --- User: "I have to ask: how muscular can we make the elves?" John: "Reasonably so. You won't be making any massive bodybuilders but like... Timothy Olyphant?" User: "As a follow up what about humans and qunari? Quite muscular a la arnold or big viking type? Or not so much that lvl?" John: "Larger lineages (Qunari, esp) are bigger by default so the upper bounds are going to be bigger, but for modeling and animation we did want to put some limits on it. But your Rook can look pretty reasonably muscled, regardless of lineage choice." --- User: "Are there any time-sensitive quests (in terms of gameplay time, that will fail automatically if not addressed in a timely manner), and if there are please tell me they're at least indicated as such in some way?" John: "There are quests that can go away and technically 'fail' if you don't address them - but, to be VERY clear, this is not an in-game timer, but rather as you progress the game's story forward. That said, we do try to sign post them as much as possible." --- User: "Does Rook ever get the choice to cuss?" John: "Yes. You'll know when you're doing it, and we leave it up to you to make the choice, but sometimes, cursing is exactly what the situation demands."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Does the bioware team read the other channels and if so do they think we're unhinged or endearing?" John: "Little of column A, little of column B. But I mean, I've been online for 27 years, the internet has ruined me as much as anyone." --- User: "all the Rooks we've seen so far are wearing purple, please tell me we dont have to wear purple" John: "Everyone else can wear whatever colour they want but you, specifically, must always wear purple." --- User: "All the games have had unique faction symbols for our protagonist (Warden, Champion of Kirkwall, Inquisition) I assume there will be one for the Veilguard Will the symbol for it get released before the game or is this something that will be revealed in-game/after it’s launched?" John: "Every faction has their own symbol - including the Veilguard themselves! You may have noticed it in some of the art out there." --- John: "As a general comment - one thing I want to be super clear on - even as creative director there are things I can say, and things we're not ready to talk about. I'd rather spend my time answering what I can instead of a dozen 'sorry I can't talk about that yet' - especially since this channel is on slow mode." --- User: "There are blood effects in combat after Rook hits an enemy. And I think a developer shared images of the blood effects on hit after the reveal. Will characters be covered in blood or other environmental effects? Like getting wet from walking in puddles or muddy from running on dirt?" John: "There are environmental effects that persist on characters, depending on the environment you're traversing. They're subtle, but they're there!" --- User: "how many tattoos can we choose from? are there also full bodied ones too?" John: "I don't know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Some are full body as well, though you have control over colours and opacity on a more granular basis."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Of the zones/areas revealed what was the most challenging to design?" John: "Each has its own unique challenges. Arlathan seems simple because - well, it's a forest, right? But what about Arlathan makes it different than places you've been before? How does it fit into the established lore? Minrathous is a different kettle of fish because we've talked about it extensively and in a way that meant it HAD to be grander and more impressive than anything we've built before, which can be a tall order. The team did a fantastic job on all the areas, though." --- User: "which faction has the best fashion, in your opinion?" John: "Crows. Largely because 'black leather and feathers' isn't a look I could pull off in the real world but I am glad my Rook can." --- John: "Alright folks. I've gotta head back to work, but please keep asking questions and I'll answer what I can as soon as I can!"

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

There was also this question and answer:

User: "Can we name our saves like in Origins?" John: "I had to double check because I was about 95% sure on the answer, but also, I've been on this project for its entirety and sometimes I remember features that we had to cut (or never actually built) - yes. You can name your saves to reduce confusion."

but the answer may have now been deleted.

[vaguely-concerned]

spite plays with the whetstones when lucanis cleans his knives oh my god... 🥺🥺🥺

(also the thing they're doing here with 'trauma will create a tantruming toddler in your head that refuses to settle for anything but total truth and authenticity and won't be bought off with bullshit or banished by abuse or neglect, you have to actually listen and care for it even when it's being ugly'......... they are cooking with this metaphor and it's also consistently so hilarious in action I can't fucking believe they laid off mary kirby for so many reasons but this is one of them. I also like the complexity of the relationship here -- even right at the beginning of the arc lucanis has some tenderness for and understanding of spite's fundamental innocence in having been put in this situation too, for all the resentment and fear and frustration that's also there. and if spite didn't actively force him to every step of the way I don't think lucanis would ever have actually faced up to and acknowledged the fact that he has y'know. the actual needs of a human being and can't persist on coffee and workaholism alone. it fucking sucks that all of this happened. but also. there's a crack in everything that's how the light gets in etc. like. god. okay then I guess)

[ollypopwrites]

Pockets Full of Posies

Pockets Full of Posies (Ao3)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age: The Veilguard (Video Game), Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Rook/Emmrich Volkarin Tags: Sex Pollen, there's as much consent as possible but its still, Dubious Consent, Masturbation, switchy dynamics, Feral Behavior, Finger Sucking, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, thigh fucking, Dirty Talk, excessive amounts of bodily fluids (its the pollens fault), Mutual Pining Summary: “Did that flower spit at us?” “Well, in a manner, although,” Emmrich blinked a few times. His face was spattered with pollen of the same vibrant color of the center of the flowers, the purple-red spots of pollen bright against his pale skin. “Flowers are technically the sexual organs of a plant.” “So it just…“ Rook tried not to laugh. “Dinner first would have been nice.”

A/N:

Stuff Rook is sensitive to: -> Gingerwort Truffle Tea -> Sex pollen

I got nothing, this wouldn't leave me alone. This does feature my Rook Rhyea Laidir, but I kept it kind of general (there are some descriptions of her appearance and her name is explicitly mentioned towards the end.)

[kiame-sama]

The Half-Human Young I have drawn so far and their associated fathers.

Obligatory Drider warning

Jack and his Pups. 5 females, 1 Male. Rainbow humanoid, Fenrir male. Rainbow black, unnamed female. Tan/Brown Gradient, unnamed female. Blue/Purple Gradient, unnamed female. Yellow/Green Gradient, unnamed female. Red/Orange Gradient, unnamed female.

(The black rainbow female pup is actually the spiciest temper wise of the six pups and the most likely to get into a fight, the Yellow/Green Gradient pup being the most passive and meek of the six. Fenrir is the most mid-tempered of the six, he can snap haughtily like Vil does, but usually he is quite calm. The Tan/Brown Gradient pup is usually the peacekeeper of the pups.)

Vil and his Peachicks. 3 males, 1 female. Sunset colored peachick, Dusk male. Inverse/Negative colored peachick, unnamed male. Rainbow tie-dye peachick, unnamed male. Monochrome peachick, Obsidian female.

(Technically, the peachicks are a little over 50% Human, as Vil has a touch of Human blood in him as well, so they are closer to 55%-60% Human and all the more addictive).

Rook and his Driderlings. 4 Females, 4 Males. Peacock pattern, unnamed male. Orchid Mantis pattern, unnamed Male. Monarch Butterfly pattern, unnamed male. Blue ringed octopus pattern, unnamed female. Zebra pattern, unnamed female. Golden Huntsman Xanthic pattern, unnamed male. Leopard print pattern, unnamed female. Panther Chameleon, unnamed female.

(The Golden Huntsman male is closest with Rook and the most interested in hunting out of the Driderlings. The Peacock male and the Orchid Mantis male are the most interested in modeling/acting. The Blue Ring Octopus female and the Panther Chameleon female are both more interested in styling and designing clothing, more of the coture side of designing. The Zebra and Jaguar females are more interested in studying animals than in hunting them. The Monarch Butterfly male is more interested in studying the various sentient species of Twisted Wonderland)

Kalim and baby Malik. 1 Male.

(Malik is a miniature Kalim in personality and general outlook on life, a ball of sunshine who trusts readily.)

Leona and his cubs. 1 female, 1 male. White gold cub, Kimba, Male. Rose gold cub, unnamed female.

(Note: Kimba is actually the name of a Japanese cartoon white lion who came before Simba and who the Lion King was loosely based off of)

Malleus and his Hatchlings. 5 Males, 3 Females. Mallechite Thorn (black Male), Mallenite (purple Male), Mallessial (blue Male), Malevian (green female), Malerigold (yellow female), Malevance (orange female), Mallek (red male), Malleon (white male)

(Mallechite is the first to hatch and the primary owner of the collective braincell dinging around from skull to skull. As the first born, he is technically next in line for the throne and is a miniature Malleus in personality. Malleon is the last to hatch and the most clueless of the hatchlings as well as the most playful of the hatchlings, closely bonded to Lilia. Malerigold is actually the sweetest of the hatchlings and prefers to sit quietly among a field of flowers as opposed to playing. Mallek fights the most out of the hatchlings and has the worst temper of the eight. Malevance is the most spiteful of the hatchlings and does not take offensive behavior from others lightly. Mallenite is closest to Mallechite and the two are almost always together. Mallessial is most attached to Silver and enjoys walking with Silver while he guards. Malevian actually likes Sebek most and does a baby crocodile cry most often to get Sebek's attention.)

[rpgchoices]

Very short non spoiler review of Veilguard act 1

I played only to chapter 8, which should be still in act 1, but I am not going to add any spoilers. This is a very generic bulletpoint list of opinions.

GAMEPLAY

Intro is great, art is pretty good too, even the characters

combat is very fun, but I still preferred Inquisition combat

the world is extremely empty. There is one or two talking npc for each faction and that is. Secondary characters do not exist. Quests are all generic (ex. Random nameless character "hey, this person disappeared, can you find them?" with no extra story or explanation)

barely any animals or surprises in the world. The only exploration factor is looking at landscapes and doing some puzzles

there are only three type of puzzles: move object into place to activate door, destroy blight to free door to open, destroy crystal to free door to open. That is it.

choices that matters are identified by the game with a sign, and you will also have a sign that will let you know which dialogue was affected by what

loved the jumping around and the sliding down

you can pet any cat or dog

the world feels empty, empty of lore, empty of characters, empty of animals, quests, people

CHARACTERS

companions are the only characters in the whole game, plus a few associated characters to them

barely any banter and the only banter present is very superficial or more on the funny side

good thing is that if banter is interrupted by a combat it will continue later

my favorite part was seeing characters talk and interact in the lighthouse

do not expect cameo, and if there are cameo they are very short and very generic

companions are very good, very kind, very nice, with little consistency between their characterization and how they behave (ex. Neve is a detective, but she never asks anything or acts differently from other characters or even seem interested in what is going on)

companions seem almost flanderized, with mainly one character trait each

dialogue is sometimes extremely clunky, with "textbook answers" that seem written with AI instead of a writer. It is all "tell, do not show", so it is more likely that a character says "I am shaken" over actually showing how they feel

characters seem to act often like exposition machines, and knows things they definitely should not know

ROOK / PLAYER

amazing character creation options

I played as elf and it has little reactivity, maybe a bit less than Inquisition

the faction has more reactivity, and there are multiple dialogues with your companions about it, mainly little comments that make it feels like Rook has a backstory (much better than inquisition)

Rook facial expressions and movements are a bit strange sometimes, making it seems like he is always smiling and happy even when he should not be

the "purple" dialogue options are a bit meh, definitely not as funny as DA2, and I think "red" might fit more (in my attempt to try and make a more serious Rook)

you cannot really shape Rook's personality

also you cannot disagree with your companions, there is no dialogue choice to disagree or fight with them like in previous games. Most of the dialogue seems to be divided in a few categories: Exposition requests; Flirting; Supportive comment; Joking comment but still supportive.

STORY AND QUESTS

It does not feel like Dragon Age.

The game take theories and secret information from previous games and make it the standard world knowledge

there is no urgency

side quests are forgettable

story is very weirdly paced

each companion has a post-recruitment quest to know them

factions and world seems sanitized. We do not hear about the darker side of the Crows, or about Tevinter's slavery if not in passing

the story is okay but would have benefitted A LOT from hiding the villains and introducing them later. When I say a lot I mean from a 6/10 game to a 8/10 game.

also never thought I would say this, but I miss the Chantry. There is barely any mention of any lore

also only three choices matter - but do they? it felt like everything was a blank state

ROMANCES

By the end of act 1 you can still flirt with everyone.

A lot of flirting options for all characters and if you skip some of them you still get the next ones

I had no romance specific scene yet so it looks like you can flirt with everyone for quite a while before deciding

the flirting is all very PG13 and it is more allusions than actual overt flirting (I mainly flirted with Davrin and Emmrich)

for now I have seen no characters flirting with each other's

I think around chapter 7 and onwards the pacing gets much better, and the writing of the quests a bit more interesting. It honestly felt like a different game in some parts, and I have no idea what happened there. It feels like the game is:

Amazing prologue, probably the best DA prologue yet

First recruitment character and first mission - completely downhill with writing

Pretty slow and weird paced then until chapter 7-8

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Nine.

Good morning, my lovely audience! A fresh new chapter has arrived for you all to enjoy. Huge thanks to my regular and new commentors alike!

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,262

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. This chapter contains violence against a woman, plus the blended canon scene of the battle of Rook's Rest. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

To some, one forest was the same as any other, identical in its thick of trees and low-lying clusters of shrubs. To a person with an educated eye within the field of botany, though, the subtle differences were clear. 

All along the narrow road they took, Aemella was able to view the kinds of plants she had only seen sketches of before within the pages of her education books, remembering back to many a lesson with Gileda where she had first learned of them. The Cerseirellus flower, for example, was native to the Westerlands, the shortened name of Cersei a popular choice for baby girls, as she had learned.  

Brilliant red petals accentuated the beauty of the bloom, growing hardily beneath the thick canopy of trees, not to be deterred by the presence of the mighty evergreens reaching tall towards the sun. Among them, bluebells filled the forest floor, a sea of purple-blue and red decorating the thick carpet of lush green.  

“Princess, look aside here,” Veron spoke, pointing to his right. “Midnight Foxgloves. They were my mother’s favourite flower.” 

Those could be found anywhere, and much like the former Lady Greyjoy, they were Aemella’s favourite, too. They were also the ones her husband would arrange to be brought to her from where they grew abundantly in the gardens, having a servant fill a vase to place upon her dressing table every few days.  

Her smile was of sad longing. “Aemond would always have those sent to our quarters.”  

Immediately, Veron felt his insides tighten, wincing a little. “I am sorry, princess. I did not realise, and now I have caused you upset with no intention to do so.” 

“No, no,” she insisted, reaching to grasp his forearm softly. “You were not to know, my friend.” By that point, Veron Greyjoy truly was her friend, her only confidant in her new life, a man whom only knowing for twelve days she knew could be trusted implicitly. His kind of decency and good nature was nigh on impossible to be masqueraded.  

He was also the only one who took the slightest bit of interest in her, too. Had you asked Dalton Greyjoy his soon-to-be wife’s favourite colour, food or flower, he would not have had the faintest idea. Veron, however, would have instantly been able to answer blue, venison with roasted vegetables, and now, Midnight Foxgloves. 

With his usual concerned sympathy tracing his handsome face, Veron nodded, his smile thin. “You must miss him awfully.” 

Gods, awfully simply did not lend to the pain inside, forced into a mere shadowed existence without her darling love. Reaching into her dress pocket, she removed her beeswax balm, noting she was running low as she dotted a small amount to her lips.  

“I do. I confess to be lost without him.” Lifting her chin, she took a deep, fortifying breath. “I must be strong, though, in all which I now face.”  

Such tenacity was very in keeping with her Targaryen blood, he thought. “Your strength is to be admired, princess. I am unsure I could remain so determined, should I be in your situation.” 

If only he could see her on the inside, where the fibres of her soul rapidly unknitted themselves one by one in Aemond’s absence from her life. “You are kind, Veron. I do not know how well I would have fared, should you not have been as lovely to me as you have been.”  

His eyes flitted ahead, towards the front of the large group they rode roughly a third back within, viewing his brother with slightly narrowed eyes. “Not all Greyjoy’s are monsters.”  

“Tell me,” she asked softly, “has he always behaved so cruelly?” 

The young man winced slightly, pausing in his reply. “Yes. He was my chief tormentor throughout our childhood, teasing me mercilessly for my lack of height, my slight build, my apparent unease upon the ocean. I suffered greatly from seasickness, which naturally does not go hand in hand with the ethos of my house. Chasers of the wave, worshipers of the Drowned God; such lends no place for a short, gawky, odd-looking boy emptying the contents of his stomach over the side of a galleon.” 

His words were delivered with a shade of bashfulness, his cheeks colouring a little to have admitted his weakness to one as strong as a dragon riding princess. He had no clue that his candour only enamoured him to her more. Veron was far from such now, too, grown into a well-built, fine looking young man. The gawky boy was long behind him, yet his elder brother still sought to treat him as if he were. 

“My husband was often the subject of his elder brother’s cruelty, too. Tis’ no shame, Veron. The elder sibling, they lamentably seek to remind the younger of their perceived place, should they favour such castigation. Aegon continues to partake of his cruelty to this day, no matter how much it serves against his best interests.”  

Her elder brother had cut off his nose to spite his face, for Aemella knew, deep in her heart, that whatever Aemond was being subjected to, he would find a way out of it if he at all could. She’d felt it over the last few days, a renewed sense of hope and purpose within him, her twin not quite as dejected as he had been at the beginning of their separation.  

In turn, a staunch refusal to resign herself to her fate was all that she had, no matter how hopeless it seemed at times. It might still be, she had to remember, but how she prayed that it wouldn’t be.  

They rode the entire day, Dalton keen to move as far north as possible until darkness descended upon them, finding an inn capable of housing them all for the night. Most of the ship’s crew took the innkeeper's barn, others lucky enough to be given a room.  

Aemella, as she soon found, would have fared better in the barn.  

“Your moonsblood surely has finished now, Aemella?” Dalton spoke after she had reluctantly slipped into the bed they were to share, Dalton turning to his side to let a hand smooth over her curves.  

Bile instantly rose in her throat. Swallowing hard, she tensed, recoiling from his touch. “I do not feel it appropriate for us to become acquainted in such a way prior to our betrothal. It is not proper, Dalton.” 

He snorted, placing his hand back upon her breast through her nightdress, squeezing. “Do not bleat such rubbish, girl,” he chided, moving closer to her, lips kissing her shoulder. “I bet your brother was sticking his cock in you for moons upon moons prior to your wedding.”  

“Stop it,” she gritted, her body stiffening further. “You will not speak of him in such a way.” 

Gripping her jaw, he turned her head to face him. “Why? Tis’ the truth, is it not? Tell me, Aemella. Tis’ quite the perverse thing, letting your own twin pound you into the bed night after night. By that token, you should be filthy as a whore.” Moving atop her, he leaned to her breast, biting her nipple, grinding his hardened manhood against her hip. “Tell me what else you enjoy, and I shall please you.” 

Feeling panicked, she pushed against him, Dalton taking her hands in his, closing a grip around her wrists. “I tire of your frigid disposition. You are almost my wife, and if I want to fuck you, I will fucking fuck you, so hard that you will forget all about Aemond fucking Targaryen.” 

She needed a plan, and rapidly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glint, the hilt of his dagger lying unsheathed upon the bedside table. “No, no, Dalton,” she began, setting her voice to a silky purr. “You misunderstand me. I push against you not to fend you off, but to show you what I enjoy.” 

The way she looked at him from beneath her lashes had his grip slackening in an instant, groaning as she began to trail her nails over his wide, hairy chest. “Turn onto your back. Let me show you how a princess rides a cock.” 

He flipped faster than a dolphin upon a wave, Aemella moving astride him. His body felt so different to Aemond’s. Thick and bulky, overly hairy, and gods, he did not wash nearly as often as he should have. She had to seduce him, though, send him mindless, so he wouldn’t see it coming.  

“There, my fierce commander of the seas,” she whispered, leaning to place a kiss upon his throat. “You lie back and enjoy yourself.” 

A filthy chuckle rumbled his throat, making himself comfortable. “I knew you could not resist me forever, my little silver haired nymph. You will be gasping and crying when I bounce you on my cock, fill you with my seed, breed some fine, Iron Born sons into your belly.”  

She almost wretched against his neck, gritting her teeth, steeling herself. “Shhhh.” she cooed, placing a finger to his lips, having him suck it. Gods, his breath could have ripped the paint from a canvas. Pressing her lips to his neck, she peppered kisses downwards slowly, her fingers running in trails over his chest, circling his nipples until they peaked stiffly.  

It made her feel sick to do it, but she lowered herself against his cock, gyrating against the solid mass alluringly, watching his head tip back as he groaned gravelly. 

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, “I shall be on your cock soon, soaking it with my pretty little cunt.”  

Her words had him in a daze, coupled with the rhythmic roll of her hips against him, Dalton feeling like he was adrift from himself entirely. No wonder Aemond One Eye had been reluctant to give her up. If she could bewitch a man like this without him even being inside her...  

The trail of kisses moved lower, Aemella keeping a sharp eye upon him, watching his own eyes roll into the back of his head, lids fluttering shut, her hand beginning to snake down while her other reached for the dagger. Gripping the hilt, she brought it to his throat just as his eyes opened again, the blade catching him, Dalton quick enough to grasp her wrist. 

Oh, no.  

“You duplicitous bitch!” he roared, gripping her throat, overpowering her swiftly as he slammed her other hand off the side of the bed, forcing her release of the weapon that has almost been plunged into his neck. “You dare attack me, you little fucking cunt of a whore?”  

Moving atop her, both hands wrapped around her neck, beginning to throttle her, her fear surging like wildfire. No, no! Her panic pulsed so strongly that back in Kings Landing, her true husband awoke, sitting bolt upright in their bed, feeling her fear rip through him like a razor’s edge.  

There was nothing he could do to save her, though, Aemella realising her only salvation was herself, Dalton beginning to lay hard punches into her face. Bringing her leg up to kick him in the balls, her nemesis folded, grasping his aching crotch. With all her might, she gripped the wrist holding her throat, wrenching it away. He surged forward again, but before he could grip at her delicate neck, her teeth locked onto his cheek in a savage bite. 

He roared in agony, Aemella tasting copper against her tongue as she punched him in the stomach, pushing and punching him in her desperate attempt to escape. Releasing her teeth, she spat a mouthful of sanguine and spit at him, ripping her nails down his face before tearing a path from the bed, the door in her sights. 

He threw himself towards her, grasping her hair and arm, running her against the opposite wall. “If you think the beatings I have given thus far were restrained, then sweetheart, you know nothing of pain.” He smashed her face against the cold stone of the wall, the skin over her cheekbone splitting, screaming for help as she struggled against him. 

Throwing her down to the floor, he kicked her in the ribs, Aemella curling into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest to protect herself. More so, it was to protect the tiny life growing inside of her, Dalton kicking her legs, her back, stomping upon her thighs until the door suddenly burst open, the innkeeper running in, shortly followed by his brother. 

“Sir! Unhand the lady this moment!” 

“She’s my wife!” he roared, kicking her helpless form once again. “I do with her as I please, and I please to beat the bitch!” 

“You will not cause this commotion within my walls; make no mistake I shall not have it!” While the innkeeper pushed at him, Veron managed to pull Aemella off the floor, lifting the sack carrying her belongings too.  

“This is a travesty, brother. You may punish me all you wish for it come to morning, but on this night, I will not allow you to hurt her further.” Turning, he carried her from the room, the princess shaking in his arms. The look she gave to Dalton over his brother’s shoulder was one of cold, hard defiance, though. “Tis’ over, princess. I will not allow you to come to this harm.”  

In a world where she could barely predict the machinations of his sibling, she could at least count on the security of Veron’s devotion to her safety. His friendship would never be forgotten, not even after she had freed herself from this predicament. For she swore right then as she cried, trembling and bleeding, that free herself from it she would.  

Aemella Targaryen was nobody's victim.  

While she was taken to Veron’s room to be cared for, Aemond could barely rest for feeling pain and horror flooding her, pacing before his bed, having to settle himself with a few large measures of rum before he could attain sleep. He truly needed to be well-rested too, a raven arriving to the Red Keep earlier that day to inform the king of the van’s imminent arrival upon Rook’s Rest, Aemond to fly up there aboard Vhagar come the following morning.  

He saw nobody and was handed no escort to Vhagar, but took one in the form of a young squire to ferry the horse he rode back once more, approaching his ancient beast as she dozed upon her preferred mossy ground.  

Reaching for her, his hand stroked her face, her huge eyes opening as she made warm noises of greeting in her throat. “Māzigon va, uēpa riñnykeā. Naejot īlva ērinnon.”  

Indeed, he and his precious old lady would surely fly to victory, for there was not a dragon in the realm capable of defeating them. Whatever the fight happened to be. He arrived ahead of time, in the wilds of bracken growing within a vast clearing to the south of Rook’s Rest, lying in wait. That was, until soaring above, a golden dragon caught his eye. 

Aegon? 

For the love of the gods. “Mittys!” he cursed, telling Vhagar to wait when she lifted her head. Crashing down again, she obeyed, until the moment her rider gave his word for her to take to the air and join the fight. 

Once above the battlefield, she surged forward, Aemond seeing his opportunity clearly, Sunfyre and Meleys locked in attack. Sneering, he witnessed the king uneasy in the saddle, wondering how many goblets of wine it had taken for his balls to grow enough in order to participate in the battle.  

Their conflict offered him the opportunity he’d hoped to gain, joining the war effort with such carefree acceptance of his brother’s decree. He could burn the princess from the sky and take with her the man who had inflicted every single ounce of his suffering. Only a fool with no pride, no spine and no conviction would ever pass up such a chance. 

The king would be collateral. Just as he’d viewed Aemella in his disgusting ploy to harm the brother whom he so envied. If there was ever a chance to reverse the hand of fate, it danced before Aemond right at that moment. He closed his eye momentarily, and there he saw her face. His course, it was decided.  

“Dracarys!” 

Vhagar breathed forth a decimating inferno, both dragons before her hit in the gargantuan blaze, Sunfyre the first to tailspin into descent, his wings alight. Looking below, he saw the ground break into flame, a sneer curling his lip. Triumph ignited his heart, the path he had been set upon now forked off, finally leading him back to his love. 

“I warned you not to make an enemy of me, brother.”  

But what had happened to the Red Queen and her rider? Turning his head, he spotted them upon the skyline, the crimson dragon surging towards him, miraculously gone unscathed. Not for long. The dragons flew head-to-head, this time, Vhagar reaching to grasp onto Meleys, her talons closing around the smaller dragon in an iron-forged grip, blasting her with a ball of fire.  

They spun through the air, Rhaenys feeling the heat of the flames scalding her skin, fighting to pull her dragon free. For the queen who never was, though, it was her final stand aboard her beloved old girl, Meleys trying in vain to fight back with her own blaze.  

Suddenly, the grip upon her beast broke contact, Vhagar swirling to crash land upon the ground before taking off again, Rhaenys flying higher once more, assuming the gods to be on her side as they ascended. She flew over the battlefield, coming up over the crest of Rooks Rest, when like a harbinger of doom, Vhagar appeared, her jaws closing around her beloved Meleys’s neck.  

The sickening crunch of shattered vertebrae filled her ears, her dragon squealing in agony, the light fading from her beautiful eyes as rapidly, they began falling.  

All that flitted through Rhaenys’s mind in her last moments was a silent prayer to the gods of gratitude, that at least she and her treasured Meleys would be received together, crashing to the ground and exploding into wildfire. 

Aemond looked down from the sky with quiet triumph, his mission accomplished, flying then to the first dragon-erupted fire, landing Vhagar and proceeding on foot. All around, the spoils of war littered the ground, men charred, torn apart, horses lying lifeless as smaller fires dotted the landscape like beacons.  

Moving through the thick of the trees, he approached the smouldering mass of what was left of Sunfyre and his brother, sword drawn. When he took in the state of the severely burned dragon, his gravely injured brother lying beside the head of the great, golden beast, he moved to sheathe his sword once more. The job, it seemed, was done. 

“Aemond!” 

Turning, he was approached by Ser Criston, Aemond looking back upon the flaming heap, crouching to where Aegon’s dagger lay upon the floor.  

“Where is his grace?” the knight questioned. Picking up the dagger, he pointed it ahead, his face passive. Not one drop of emotion flickered through him. While Aemond stood, Criston approached, dropping to his knees in despair to witness the stare of his liege, wondering truly if the king was alive at all.  

“Where are you going?” he asked, turning to see Aemond pause in his path away from the scene. 

Turning, he tucked the dagger into his baldric, giving the answer Criston likely knew was coming. “To find my wife.”  

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