#hal lavellan

[dreadfutures]

The Brave Guide, Ch 80 - The Willing Lost

Halevune dreams of Tamlen, and a new quest begins.

Halevune did not move to defend her, nor did he attack the lone darkspawn remaining. The boy was almost docile, waiting with no trace of his previous aggression. He looked not at her, but at the side of Hal's face, with a pleading expression.

"Lethallin," the ghoul rasped, and the plea in his voice was clear.

But Hal did not look at him. He stared down at Ixchel coldly instead.

"Figures, the Inquisitor would be inquisitive," he sneered. "I have been told it is rude to snoop in other people's heads."

[inquisitor-julia]

Absolutely breathtaking commission I got from @pauvre-lola of my OCs Wren Lavellan and Haleir!!!

I adore every inch of this piece it feels like it belongs in an art museum tbh, thank you so much for bringing this to life and for your endless patience with me!! ♥️♥️♥️

Wren is my Solas romance Inquisitor and Hal is a Sentinel of Mythal and Wren's alternate LI in two AUs I have for her!

[hal-assan]

Muse List

featured on hal-assan

Yvair Viriselan, of Clan Lavellan

Dalish rogue, skilled particularly in archery and tracking. While known to be sarcastic and rather flirtatious, Yvair genuinely is bighearted deep down and prone to self-sacrificial tendencies. Despite being overall a 'proud' Dalish, his beliefs could be considered more agnostic than faithful. While not blindly trusting of humans, Yvair is more willing than some Dalish to allow every human to make their own impression instead of outright assuming ill intent. Canon world state features him as Inquisitor, but a companion verse can be requested.

Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven

Devote Andrastian who despite his strong faith may be considered openminded, or critical of how the Chantry functions at times. He wants to be able to help those in need of it, and can struggle against making rash decisions. Defaults to friendship path, request if intended rivaled.

Elgaris Viriselan, of Clan Lavellan

Born initially to Clan Viriselan, after her magical capabilities unlocked Elgaris moved to Clan Lavellan alongside her older brother to take on the responsibility of learning to one day become a Keeper. Unlike her brother, Elgaris genuinely believes in the Evanuris. She is lighthearted and optimistic to the point some people may consider her to be naive. Defaults to First of Clan Lavellan, willing to play as Second to another Lavellan.

featured on splinteredglass

Tamlen, of Clan Sabrae

Raised a proud Dalish, Tamlen is wary of every human until given a good reason not to be. Doomed by his curious nature, the warrior ended up Blighted and conscripted to take on the Blight despite his protests. While he fought against the idea up until his Joining, Tamlen proves to be a great addition to the Warden's ranks. Canon worldstate has him stubbornly become the Hero of Ferelden due to delivering the killing blow to the Archdemon-- if his life is spared in the act, he is out of the loop as to how.

Fejin Mahariel, of Clan Sabrae

Fejin is morally grey-- someone who isn't concerned if they need to spill blood to get their job done. However as long as it is in their abilities, they will do their best to aid those less fortunate than them. Unfortunately for anyone who is better off, especially if they prove a terrible person, Fejin is not above thievery or other criminal activities. Usually an alternative to Tamlen, but happy to write it where both had survived.

Merrill Alerion, of Clan Sabrae

Despite turning to blood magic in an attempt to fix the eluvian that cost her the lives of her closest friends (be they dead or simply taken from the Clan), Merrill is nice to nearly everyone unless given a very good reason not to be. She seeks knowledge of her people's past and many may consider her naive or stupid, views she doesn't always try to correct. In some cases she'll lean into that belief and use it as an opportunity to troll or otherwise mess with those around her.

featured on asala-shokrakar

Archex, Tal-Vashoth

When it became clear that Archex was going to face re-education due to not quite conforming to what the Qun wanted of him, he took off despite having no idea of what to do with himself after gaining his freedom. In due time, the Qunari happens across a merchant under attack by bandits and steps in to save his life. The human befriends him, even taking him in as family and helps Archex eventually adjust to life as a Ferelden. Verse set for Inquisition, but happy to work out something for any other timeframe.

[idolsgf]

got tagged by @demandthedoodles to make the DA blorbos on here. can never get enough picrew

i think everyone i know who plays dragon age already got tagged so i guess i tag anyone who wants to have fun and make a picrew 😅

if you saw my playlist then you’ve already seen the crew but since i love making these i decided to make another one :)

they go by hal and they’re part of the lavellan clan as the second. mo’s childhood best friend. they/them. they’ve been in my head for awhile but still need to flesh them out a bit more.

[izzym-art]

Doodling the dream I had of my girl Athelas with @nipuni‘s Nalia and @laskulls‘s Hal where they’re talking about Solas during their sleepover 😆😂

[destinyapostasy]

A sketch commission for @laskulls. Thank you so much friend, i’m so glad you like it <3

[galadrieljones]

A fic commission for @laskulls​. 

Inquisitor Hal Lavellan has a strange dream, in which he is forced to come to some difficult realizations about his life, as well as his relationship with Solas. This takes place during the Inquisition, before What Pride had Wrought.

(Thank you so much, laskull, for giving me the opportunity to write such a glorious creature as Hal. It was a pleasure to work with you. <3 -gala)

Absinthe

Some rooms are fit for Chantry sisters, their golds enveloping and made for storybook days in which childhood is something to cherish. Holding candles among the women and the people who love you—no matter who they are, you are protected from the wilds, the masked evils, the witches who mourn the death of the simple days, when children came into their ovens on the promise of sweets, of their own volition. Some rooms are wintry and sweet, cozy with the scent of balsam. People come and they go, all a family, and even when one is not there, the others know that he will soon return. Everything seems to be made of heavy, soft fabrics, lush but uncomplicated in the way they wrap you tight.

This was a different kind of room, however. Here, there were wolves.

There was red smoke, high in the corners of the ceiling, as if filled with eyes, and it watched him enter. Hal thought he had invited only twenty, maybe thirty to the party, but at some point, the guest list must have gotten away from him, as this was a party of hundreds. Maybe thousands. The chateau was big, and the chandeliers were beautiful, so who knew? There were tables and chairs, all of a cold, steely wood painted blue or painted white. Huge cakes in the shapes of summer animals—a bear, a lion, a serpent. They smelled divine, but they were untouched, as the fountains of champagne and the grand silver bowls of yellow pills, and potions in the punch, spiky and sweet with remorse and seduction. 

Everything untouched and yet everyone around him seemed to be drunk, and getting drunker, and they embraced and hung off of one another like saplings. Some of the women seemed made of sunlight as they touched him. They were warm, and they whispered sweet, melancholy nothings with their breath that smelled of absinthe.

Hal had never tried absinthe. He liked alcohol in small quantities, though he found the effect dizzying. In this one simple sense, moderation suited him. But absinthe—was that an alcohol, or was that a drug? He couldn’t be sure. He knew people who’d had it before. It was a common drink in Orlais, and once he had been close to Solas who’d been sipping it out of a silver cap at the Winter Palace, and his breath smelled like black licorice after. Hal longed to taste it on his tongue. The effect put him into a daydream. But can you daydream past your regular dreaming? Nobody knows for sure, and so now he was looking around the party, looking for Solas. If this was his party, then Solas had to be there, somewhere. Didn’t he?

Their masks looked like their faces, but their faces looked like their masks. Cole had said something like this—once. Sometimes Hal got lost in the haves and have nots, that which was and that which he only imagined. He found himself at the center of a small circle of people—Orlesians. The word was thick and pink, and he could hear it best in Sera’s voice. These Fereldans and their crass accents, he thought. A man dressed as a fanged beast holding a heavy glass approached Hal then and put his mask back. He was handsome and flaxen, Orlesian and human. He was a great big man, even bigger than Hal, and he had to lean down a little to put his voice in Hal’s ear.

“There are women here, young Inquisitor. They will give you whatever you want.”

Hal blushed and tsk’ed the man. “You know better,” he said. But did he? The man seemed familiar somehow, like one of the noble shits who liked to strut around Val Royeaux, flashing his jewelry. Hal was enchanted, but Solas, he knew, was somewhere. “I must go.”

“Wait,” said the Orlesian. He held Hal by the wrist, gently, but sure. He handed him a glass of something very bright and green. “For you.”

“Is it absinthe?” said Hal.

The Orlesian smiled. His whole mouth seemed to turn up. His face was, at times, rocky. Other times, it was smooth and Hal longed to touch it though he could not locate the reason. “No, no,” said the Orlesian. No, no. “Nothing of the sort, Inquisitor. Look closer.” 

Hal peered deep into the glass. He felt his head fill with mystery. He squinted at the man. “What is it?”

“Chartreuse,” said the Orlesian. “Smell it. Like plants, no?”

Hal thought it smelled like metal. “It must be shit,” he said, and he smirked. “I smell blood.”

The man enjoyed this. The boy was catching on. “I have seen foxes run wild in all of Orlais, Inquisitor,” he said. “None run as wild as you.”

“Is that a theory? Is this your guesswork?”

“I do not wish to impose,” said the man, even as he did. He softened, wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He was not a bad man, but he was…motivated. He drew closer, and his breath reeked of cold. “But it is a theory, indeed, one I would hasten to test.”

“In what context?” said Hal.

“This,” said the man.

The man leaned forward, and he kissed him. At first, Hal felt warmth. Invigorated, he let go, and the feeling was good. This was a feeling he could learn to recognize in the long chilly nights of Skyhold. Somebody to take him close? Remind him where he came from. Like a tree that grew up and up until it forgot its roots. They were down there, somewhere. Perhaps an anchor? Then he could go down and be reminded of what they looked like.

But then he heard the cooing of the women, and a strange noise from overhead, and he knew that it was a mistake. This was not right. Clouds gathered to the sound of crumpling paper. But wasn’t this indoors? He felt repulsed. He pushed the man away.

“I’m sorry,” said Hal. “I can’t.”

“Don’t go,” said the man.

But no matter how Hal looked, he couldn’t see the man’s face anymore. His back had turned. Every angle he approached, it was only the man’s back, and then he knew that it was wrong. All of it. This man did not want him. He wanted a fox. So Hal reached for a glass of champagne to dull the edges. A pretty girl had passed, a Dalish elf holding a silver tray, and she seemed nice and knowing toward him.

“Ser Solas waits,” she said, smiling. She was warm, like autumn, and beautiful and young. Just like him. Her smile was pink. “Do I know you?”

“I’m not sure,” said Hal. “You said he waits? Where?”

“Outside,” she said. “In the garden. Are you sure we don’t know each other?”

“Many people think they know me,” said Hal. “They assume.”

“I think I know you from childhood,” she said. She held out her hand. In it, she held a twig. “Mahalen. You used to light the barn on fire.”

This almost made him laugh as he took the twig. What was she talking about? He found his legs with her. She was familiar, in any case. A Dalish girl, but a servant? This did not make sense. She said her name was River.

“River?” he said. “That is your name?”

“Follow me,” she said.

She took his hand.

They went down a long corridor that he could not remember. Candelabras on all sides. This was a chateau he had purchased, with riches he had earned. He should have known this hallway. He should have decorated. There were cobwebs in the corner that disgusted him.

What the fuck was this reverie, anyway?  He longed to get out of there. He followed the girl with a feeling like she was his sister. He wanted her to stop and to give him something, like a hug, or perhaps a flower. They continued down the corridor until they found an old gate made of brass that stretched all the way up to the sky.

“Through there,” she said. And then she told him a secret. It was the secret of his whole life. He would wake up soon and never remember.

Beyond the gate, one after another after another, he saw butterflies. There were thousands. Like onlookers, and the sky was gray. It had begun to snow. Hal saw him.

He wore a strange mask—that of a raven, and he was very tall. And yet, somehow, Hal knew that it was Solas. Standing alone, leaning against the fountain, debonair in a silver tuxedo. Crushed with relief, Hal could feel his heart beating in his throat.

“Solas,” he said.

Hands in his pockets, Solas straightened up as Hal approached.

Hal, still holding that glass of champagne from the Dalish girl named River, glanced down at his shoes. He could feel Solas watching him, though the mask was deceiving. When he was right up close, Hal offered him the glass of champagne.

Solas lifted the mask, pushed it back so that Hal could see. It was him. Only taller, and more beautiful than before. Solas took the champagne and nodded in gratitude. Then, he sipped and surveyed the butterfly garden.

“I heard you had a run-in with a wolf,” he said, glancing. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Hal, breathless. “It was nothing. The man was caught over his head. I stopped him.”

Solas smirked into his champagne. “I see.”

“What are you doing out here all alone?” said Hal. “You should come inside.”

“Would you like me to come inside?”

“Certainly,” said Hal. “I don’t seem to know anybody else.”

“You seem to know the serving girl. She is Dalish, is she not?”

Hal glanced over his shoulder. She was nowhere to be seen. “Her name is River,” he said. “I think she might be from another time.”

“I prefer the garden,” said Solas, confident. “The butterflies flock to this place, as if in worship. Spring is near. I can sense your uneasiness, Mahalen. I wish you would tell me the truth.”

“The truth about what?”

“About the wolf inside.”

“Inside?”

“Inside the chateau.”

Hal swallowed some air. Solas was very cavalier and very upright, as a man. He had never been taller than Hal, not until this moment, and yet, for some reason, it seemed he had always been taller than Hal and suddenly, Hal found himself wondering once again at reality and everything that had been stolen from him. “I’m all right,” he said. “Though I could use some comfort, in any case.” He smiled. He tried to appear demure.

“Your drama suits the event,” said Solas, seeing right through him. “I missed you a great deal. The butterflies are pretty, but they are terrible with conversation.”

Hal laughed at this, low, and he blushed hard. The snow was gathering on his eyelashes, though he could barely feel the cold at all. He felt Solas’s hand instead, big and warm inside his own, and very sudden, but casual. When he looked down at their fingers, interlaced, Hal felt his heart grow and burst and the warmth of it catch in his throat. He looked up at Solas, and he said, “Is this on purpose?”

“Of course,” said Solas. Very cool, unconcerned. “I do very little that is not on purpose, Mahalen. Though I wish you would remove your mask.”

“I am not wearing a mask.”

“Not anymore,” said Solas.

Hal looked up at him then, and he felt protected. He did not need a mask here, and Solas lifted his chin to get a better look. Hal could feel his callused palms, wondered what he could have done to make them so rough like that. A mage with rough hands? Hal’s hands were soft. Hal’s hands were untouched until now.

“May I?” said Solas.

“May you what?”

“Kiss you,” he said. “Now that you have removed your mask. Of course, if the answer is no, please just say so. I take only that which is offered to me, and freely given.” He was so sure of himself. So strong, earnest in his request.

Hal shuddered, and his spine whispered away into the snowy landscape.

“Yes,” he said, a whisper.

His mouth was dry. Solas made a small smile, relieved, and then he leaned in and closed his eyes. It seemed to last forever, this moment in-between, but then their mouths touched in a quiet bit of undoing. It was everything, and it was all the world and time come to a halt for Hal. The snowflakes stood still in the air like exploding stars, and a red butterfly perched on Solas’s shoulder as if in possession. Hal felt the kiss deepen and then fade. They parted, slowly. Solas smiled down at him, satisfied and warm, tucking the hair behind Hal’s ear. The touch was slight, but Hal could feel it in his bones.

“It’s a beautiful day,” said Solas then as he glanced around, regarding the greenery where it pressed into the snow. His hand still lingered there, at the cut of Hal’s jaw, and he had tasted like black licorice, thought Hal. Black licorice. Absinthe. At last.

But the sky was coming down. Hal could hardly hear him now as the snow kicked up, or was it the butterflies? Maybe he’d never know, and in any case, he could feel the sunlight melting through the high windows, making a home in his bedsheets where he slept alone.

“When did we get home?” he said. “Solas?”

“Yes, vhenan?”

Awake.

Hal opened his eyes in the quiet of his Skyhold bedroom. It was past dawn, and the ice was melting off the windows like a prelude to summer. He touched his fingers to his mouth, waited for the reminder. Had it been the Fade?

No.

His heart sank. He knew in an instant that it had been simple dreaming, that the man Solas, who he loved desperately but with a kind of abandon that had begun to burn too bright into the void, was not here. Unrequited. Somebody was knocking on the door. This business of his, lurking in the shadows, beckoning him further and further away from the place he came from, it startled him back to reality.

It was Josephine, she said through the door, there to sketch out a social affair with some smug Comtesse from the Imperial Court. He was supposed to be excited, and so that is how he would force himself to appear, but in the space between the wolven specter of his dreams and a kiss from the lover who simply would not love him back, Hal had got lost. Could a dream be so telling, or the face of things to come? He hoped so, and yet he did not. Like all coins, this one had two sides. He pushed the hair off his face, rumpled the expensive cotton of the sheets. One thousand thread count, imported by his own personal request from Val Royeaux. Hal remembered the day they arrived in the mail, wrapped in brown paper and twine, and how he told Solas, all too excited. Solas, however, did not even glance up from his book.

Sheets, is it? he said. They’d been having coffee in the garden, were sitting at a little table with the Chantry sisters showing the children how to plant seeds in the soil.

Not just sheets, said Hal. One thousand threads.

I once slept on sheets spun by Antivan silk worms, he said, though he offered no context as he turned the page. Their threads are so small as to be innumerable. I itched by morning.

What does that mean? said Hal, growing impatient.

Spend your days counting thread, Mahalen, while the surgeons want for gauze in the sick bay. He glanced up. He smirked, but he was very serious. I think you hear me. Do you hear me, lethal’lin?

Lethal’lin. It would be a long time before Hal heard him. For now, Josephine had ceased her knocking and slipped a note under the door. Hal dug his fists into his eyes. Time to wake up. The Comtesse was expecting him at noon.

Proceeds for this commission will be donated to members of the fandom in need. Thank you so much, laskull, for your donation. <3 

Want me to write you something? For more details on commissions, just message me on tumblr, or email me at thegaladrieljones@gmail.com. <3

-gala 

[fuwafawn]

Bunnies and Kittens  Lute and Hal belong to @mangopocalypse

I wanted to take a break from commissions and thesis work to doodle. 

[katkulita]

Characters

Hilda Aeducan, the dwarven warrior who blames her younger brother for ruining her life, allows herself a short moment of happiness amidst the horrors of the Blight but cannot deal with the impact that her decisions have on others.

Florence Adaar, the Qunari/Vashoth warrior who inspires - hope in her followers, fear in her enemies.

Fionwyn Tabris, the elven warrior who believes that becoming a Grey Warden was the best thing that could have happened to her, because it gave her worth, future, purpose and love.

Mina Hawke, the warrior whose life has been full of tragedies big and small, and despite finding an improbable friend and a lover (not the same person), everything is a disappointment.

Eleri Lavellan, the elven daggers rogue who should have been a mage but wasn’t and thus feels like she has failed everyone; the innocent one who believes that everyone deserves a second chance (except for her).

Hal Amell, the sheltered mage whose future as a prominent scholar has been crushed by the people he trusted most; whose adoration of historical figures will bring about heartbreak; whose naïveté is only slowly dissolving in the filthy waters of reality.

Corten Adaar, the Qunari/Vashoth mage whose inability to use healing magic is only matched by his inability to keep a relationship for longer than two weeks.

Ásta Brosca, the dwarven archer, with very little progress so far

Sassa Cadash, the dwarven archer who only has a backstory so far, not even a face

[teethgutsart]

25. crystal growth

[buttsonthebeach]

Perfect Strangers

I once again had the privilege of doing a commission for @rufflesandpearls featuring Mahalen Lavellan and Dominic Montagne! These two are just such a delight to write for. Thank you as always for commissioning me <3

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions

Pairing: Mahalen Lavellan x Dominic Montagne

Rating: General

********

Halamshiral had been a glorious disaster. It had been everything Mahalen Lavellan could have dreamed of in his dreary, lonely childhood in the woods of the Free Marches: the canapes, the silver flutes of champagne, the jewelry, the perfume, the decadence and despair of it all. And him, swirling through it, the center of attention, the person everyone wanted to talk to, or talk about.

So, really, Hal wasn’t at all sure why his hands were shaking as he stood on the balcony when it was all over. Corypheus was thwarted. The Orlesian Empire would live another day with its masks and lies - its thin, satiny veneer of elegance, barely enough makeup to cover up its savage face.

So, really, why was he shaking?

Hal inhaled and tipped his head back and breathed in the smell of the ornamental gardens below. The roses overpowered almost every other scent, including the blood that had been spilled that night, and the ichor of the dead demons. And then another scent overpowered even that - the subtle, lilac smell of Dominic Montagne’s lotion.

Hal breathed easily for the first time all night.

“Whatever is the belle of this ball doing out here all alone?” Dominic asked, leaning up against the balustrade, all casual ease.

Mahalen looked him over, pretending to take the measure of a stranger. Dominic wore a black mask with raised designs but no colors or symbols that would mark his heraldry, and his black clothes were similar. They were well tailored as always. Elegant, understated, and enough not to draw attention unless you had an eye for detail. That was the idea, after all. Dominic was not supposed to be here at all. Hal wondered what his Inner Circle would say once they realized that the man in black trailing them throughout the Winter Palace was in fact his husband. Husband. It was a word that still fizzed and bubbled in his mind like the champagne the empress had served like it was water.

“Trying to stay out of the way of dangerous strangers, of course. Don’t you know there has been an attempt on my life this very evening?” Hal said, putting one hand on his chest in mock offense. It was his left hand, in fact. The one that shone with the symbol of their marriage.

Dominic’s eyes flickered to it, but he did not drop his casual, flirtatious posture. That only made Hal’s heart beat faster. To still be desired, chased after, even though Dominic already had his prize - Hal could not have asked for more.

“Indeed. I must assure you, messere, that I am no such dangerous stranger. In fact, you are a danger to me. Your gaze pierced my heart when you glanced across the ballroom tonight, and I have not been the same since. May I make the honor of your acquaintance?”

Hal laughed, and hid it demurely behind a gloved hand.

“Everyone at this party knows my name, my lord.”

“I would hear it from your pretty lips.”

Dominic moved closer, and beneath the mask his lips were fighting the urge to turn upwards into a smile. Hal couldn’t stop another laugh, this one not so demure, from escaping him. This serious, worldly, impossible man.

“Mahalen Lavellan, at your service. And you are?”

“Dominic Montagne. And I must assure you - it is I who am entirely at your service. What else can one do but fall at the feet of such beauty?”

As he spoke the words, Dominic took Hal’s hand and bent low over it. His lips hovered above his hand, and then he turned Hal’s hand over, and pressed a long, slow, sensual kiss to the wrist. The back of Hal’s neck prickled, and the shiver traveled all the way down his spine, and in that moment he forgot there was anything but the man before him. His husband. More perfect than a hundred high-society balls and simpering nobles and political intrigues.

“Messere, I must protest at such familiarity,” Hal said, though he did not take his hand back. “A gentleman must make me certain promises before he is so close to me.”

Dominic sank down to one knee without missing a beat.

“Then marry me, Mahalen Lavellan. I know we have only just met and yet I suspect that you are the love of my life, and will make me the happiest man in Thedas. Do you think me insane for speaking so?”

Mahalen laughed, and drew Dominic to his feet, and kissed him on the mouth. Dominic’s arms were warm and sure around him. People would talk, of course. The balcony was not exactly private. But he did not care.

“Never,” Hal said. “Unless you think I am mad as well for already loving a perfect stranger.”

Dominic smiled a tender, private smile. He stepped back and held his hand out once more in invitation.

“This is your night, my darling. Dance with me.”

They did, and Hal’s hands weren’t shaking any longer by the time the music was done.

[dreadfutures]

The Brave Guide, Ch 83 - Lands No Longer Yours

Ixchel infiltrates Valor's first trap and finds that it looks a lot like Denerim. What choice made there could Valor claim was cowardly?

A tendril of fear crawled into her gut as she fought what must have been hundreds of darkspawn. She remembered how Cole had said that embodying large battlefields and shaping the traumatic events from her past had taxed Envy to its limits. Yet Valor was able to call upon what felt like all the spirits in the Fade to give life to the Battle of Denerim once more. She knew then that she would not be able to face Valor on her own. “Hal!” she shouted over the roar of the dragon. “Hal, it’s me! This is another nightmare!” She had hoped his anger at her for a second invasion of his dreams would be enough to snap him free of Valor’s compulsions, but it seemed he was drowning in too much already—darkspawn, and his own despair. “That’s right,” Valor said, but it spoke as Ixchel now knew the Archdemons must: in the voice of the Blight. Like the voices she heard in red lyrium, like the monstrosity that was an echo of the Evanuris’s malice, it sang its words with a hatred most potent and a longing that she could not help but feel. “This is a nightmare, come to its end.”

The Brave Guide is a canon-divergent Dragon Age longfic. It continues the story of Dead Pasts and Dread Futures, in which Lavellan was sent back in time against her will after the Dread Wolf’s plans destroyed the world.

The series follows Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan and her battle to find hope for herself, and hope for Thedas. As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again. These are the stories of how she gets better.

[Read from the Beginning] | [Current Chapter] | [TLDR] | [Other Fics]

[inquisitor-julia]

     He huffed a laugh and suddenly Wren wanted nothing more than to hide in the furs draped at her shoulders, never to be seen again.

    “You were watching the celebrations weren’t you?”

    So he had seen her staring, wonderful.

    “It’s much more fun when you’re not just watching.” He continued.

    She glanced back to him, eyes wide, he wasn’t asking her to-

    “Dance with me?”

@mik-arts strikes again with this adorable piece inspired by a short snippet I wrote about Wren and Hal! (featuring @eluvii‘s Anni and @inquisitor-veowyn‘s Veowyn! <3) This is from the Vir Tanadahl AU I share with my friends which has been so fun to create and has helped me flesh out Wren and Haleir so much!

[thedancingdragonling]

i like questions about my dragon age ocs but with inquisition and origins, it’s particularly interesting to think about because while i have my ‘main’ inquisitor, the others (particularly the other trevelyans, like max or esme who are both hal’s older siblings) still play a role in every canon. i like to do the same with my wardens, ie: my main is amell but the other origins all survive (except mahariel but he also dies when he’s the canon warden rip to him) and join the wardens eventually. so i can come up with answers for them as the main character but also as side characters, and there’s a real difference in their journeys! hal’s a mage so his plight is evidently influenced by his siblings’ decisions if they’re the inquisitors. max sides with the templars? hal dies. esme sides with the mages but they’re shackled to the inquisition? he runs away and only come back in trespasser.

[idolsgf]

wip wed--whenever

@melisusthewee tagged me in wip wednesday this week and I wasn't able to get to it until now. thank you <3

I'll keep it as an open tag, seeing as I'm late c:

This is from Wave After Wave, and is an introduction into Mori'na's brother Bohean. This is still a first draft with some additions, but I like how it's coming along so far.

Bo's always been in the back of my mind but I wasn't always sure if Mo should actually have a sibling. Developing Mo more, her having more than just a mother only felt right, hence developing Bohean more. It's been fun expanding more on Mori'na's family and figuring out their personalities and dynamics with each other.

(Hal is also briefly mentioned)

As always, the rest is under read more :3

Clan Lavellan to Haven Addressed to Mori’na Lavellan

Sister,

I will keep this brief as I am well aware of the current…predicament you have gotten yourself into. There is not much left to say, mother has more than enough words for the both of us. I only wish that the time you spend with those people is short and that your return is safe— for mother’s sake. It doesn’t do well to make her worry. I hope you can recall the last time you were away for an extended period. It does not do well to repeat such an event.

Hal is sending their well wishes. In high spirits as usual, although it is hard to tell if it is just a cheery disposition or the overconsumption of elfroot. Even so, they are doing well keeping the peace, much more than the clan’s current First is doing. The magic in the sky does not phase Hal. I do not know if anything can. You would know best, but alas, you are not here and I am subject to their drunken schemes. Hal may be able to keep the peace but they do not allow for my own peace of mind.

Fortunately, Keeper is keeping me busy with my duties so I am able to keep them at arm’s reach most of the day. I am to study this anomaly in the hopes that it will keep you safe— even if it is but for a moment. Mother tells me that you have a “mark” on your hand now. One with…magical abilities. You must relay to me all the details you can muster in your coming missives. Fascinating that one such as you — one with no inherit magical traits — is able to wield such a power.

I will be expecting your return in the coming weeks to rid me of your friend.

Your brother, — Bohean

Shoved into the bottom right corner of the letter is a late addition with a childish drawing next to it of an elf sticking their tongue out.

The title the humans have given you is horrendous. Suits you.

[izzym-art]

I probably have one of the best dream ever

(While I’m still freshly awake, I'll write down what I remember)

I had a dream that my girl Athelas and @nipuni’s Nalia and @laskulls’s Hal went to the mall together on scooters 😂 then they had a good time at the movies, made up their hair, ate tons of cakes and had a sleepover together talking about Solas and then they pile on top of each other and sleep like that lol that was a fun dream