#i had a lot of ideas about the library in the fortress but i drew very slow so a lot of them needed to be cut out

[iiping]

library under construction 📚🔨✨

[allisondraste]

Announcing: Ambivalence

It has been exactly one year to the day since I published the final chapter of my Nathaniel Howe/F!Cousland long-fic, Temperance, and I could not think of a better time to unveil it’s first sequel, which I have had on the back-burner while I took a much-needed hiatus from writing. 

This will be a far briefer story than it’s predecessor, but tells an important part of Nate and Liss’ story.  

I hope you all enjoy!

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe x Female Cousland 

Story Summary: It has been just over a year since Nathaniel Howe and Elissa Cousland were reunited, childhood friendship forged into a love that endured a decade apart.  However, every love is tested at some point. Presented with circumstances that could either make or break their relationship, Nate and Liss are no different.

[AO3 Link]

Chapter 1: Pity and Pride

Chapter Summary:  It is no secret that there is trouble in paradise, and Nathaniel is quickly becoming tired of his friends’ concern.

Vigil’s Keep, Solace 9:33 Dragon

Sunlight poured into the room, undeterred by curtains carelessly drawn open the night before, forming a halo around the woman who lay next to him with bare limbs draped comfortably across his body.  It was rare that he awoke before her, rarer still to catch a glimpse of her sleeping peacefully, features unmarred by the nightmares that so often plagued her rest.  It was difficult to fret over their privacy when the uncovered window painted such a beautiful portrait.  How many years had he longed  for moments such as this, fleeting and perfect, always just out of his reach?  

And now Liss was there, snoring softly and tangled in bedsheets.  Unable to quell the urge to touch her, to make sure she was real, he reached forward and brushed a lock of hair from her face before allowing his fingertips to settle on her cheek.  She stirred, thick brows pressing together as her eyes flickered open, rich, brown, and sparkling with a groggy smile.

“Good morning, Nate,” she said quietly, voice hoarse as she shifted beneath the sheets and brought her hand up to cover his, an intricate ring glittering on her finger.  

“My love,” he whispered, allowing his eyes to blink closed just briefly.

Then, he awoke.

Nathaniel sighed as his eyes opened, not to a lovely sun-soaked room in Antiva, but rather to his own tomb-like quarters in Vigil’s Keep, with nothing but low-burning sconces illuminating the depressing stone walls and floors.  It was too cold, and he rolled over to be closer to the warmth of his bed partner, stretching out an arm to drape across her.

However, his arm fell only against a mound of blankets, his dreams having played a cruel trick on him once again.  This was not the first time in recent days that he’d woken up to find his bed empty, the woman who had lain with him the night before gone without a trace other than the turned back sheets and coverlet on her side of the bed.  In fact, it seemed that he woke up alone more often than not.

“Liss,” he asked the empty room, as if it could summon her for him, as if he did not know she was already up and running about the Keep pretending that everything was fine.

When the room did not answer him, he sighed and sat up begrudgingly, shivering as the chilly air met his bare skin, and slid out of bed.  Without any windows, discerning the hour proved difficult, yet he figured it was past time that he got ready and behaved as an acting Warden-Constable anyway.  

In peace, vigilance , and all of that.

A rustling from his closet drew him from his thoughts and his head darted toward the direction of the noise out of instinct.  Cautiously, he made his way over to the door and placed an ear up against it, hoping to get a better idea of what lay inside.

Meow .

Nathaniel sighed and shook his head as he opened the door, glancing down to a pair of bright green eyes examining him.  Ser Pounce-A-Lot was a ridiculous name for a creature who only ever snuck about and examined the world with cold calculation, pouncing very little, if at all.

“This,” he grumbled, stepping out of the animal’s way, “Is how curiosity kills your kind . ”

The cat tilted his head in an almost unnatural way before mewing again and sauntering forward, snaking himself around Nathaniel’s leg and purring gratuitously for several long moments.

“You are keeping me from my duties, Your Lordship ,” Nathaniel said, glaring down at Ser Pounce, who appeared wholly undeterred, before stopping, blinking up at him, and then chomping down on the back of his heel.  He hissed in pain and pulled away reflexively.

Reaching down to give the cat a scratch behind the ears, Nathaniel said,“Perhaps you were meant to be a war beast after all.”

Ser Pounce nuzzled into his hand, gave a final meow, and pranced out of the room as if nothing had transpired. He wondered how he had ended up caring for the damnable creature in the first place.  Then again, it was not as if Anders had been in any sort of condition to care for a pet when he fled the Keep, nor was Nathaniel certain Justice would have allowed him to.  He shook his head free of the disappointing, bitter memories of his friends. He had more pressing matters to attend.

It took him little time to dress himself in his Warden attire. The days had been short and peaceful since The Mother and her spawn were destroyed, yet he preferred to dress the part of a Grey Warden, armed and prepared for an attack at any moment.  In the aftermath of Loghain’s slanderous campaign against them, and with the decision to allow Amaranthine to fall looming over their heads, the Wardens had ample other enemies now, enemies that the Darkspawn threat had once held at bay.  Anything could happen.

Appropriately equipped, Nathaniel straightened his posture and stepped out into the hallway.

It was an odd experience to reside in his childhood home, yet on an entirely different floor and wing. When Delilah assumed control of the arling, she had kindly offered that he keep his old room, as part of the Howe family.  He promptly declined, having no fond feelings for the room to which he’d been unfairly banished more times than he could count.  Besides, he preferred to stay with the other Wardens, his new family.

Nathaniel made his way through several dark corridors and down multiple flights of stairs, feet guided more by muscle memory than sight, until he’d reached the ground floor.  He couldn’t say for certain he would find Liss in the great hall, but it was as good of a place as any to start.

The largest room in Vigil’s Keep, was the only room with any semblance of warmth.  One of the longest-standing, impregnable fortresses in Ferelden had no use for stained glass windows, open courtyards, or natural lighting of any kind.  His father had always declared that it was called a keep and not a castle for a reason, an underhanded criticism of the things Nathaniel pretended not to love about Castle Cousland when he was a child.

He scanned the space before him, nearly vacant with the exception of pages and scouts milling about waiting to be assigned tasks.  He thought to approach one of them to ask if they’d seen Liss, but thought better of it.  They likely had no idea who she was or what she looked like, and they no doubt had better things to do than participate in this unnecessary game of hide-and-seek.

“Morning, Nathaniel,” called a voice off to his side, a voice he did not particularly wish to hear at present.  He turned to see Alistair standing several feet away, wearing that lopsided, cheerful grin that usually occupied his face.  The younger man had thickened up slightly since they’d first met over a year prior, an effect of safety, security, and not carrying the weight of a Blight on his back.  He looked healthy and happy, and Nathaniel envied his ability to bounce back.

“Morning, Alistair” Nathaniel replied dryly.  He paused, eyes darting around the room in another cursory sweep before returning to the other man. “Have you seen Liss, by any chance?”

Alistair flinched at the question. “You mean, you  haven’t seen her this morning?”

“No.”

“Damn...” he shifted his weight, laughing nervously and bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head, “I, um.. I haven’t seen her either.”

“Wonderful,” Nathaniel muttered, shaking his head.

“Listen, you know how she is,” Alistair said, placing a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder in what was undoubtedly an attempt at reassurance, a gesture of pity. “She probably just got one of those wild hairs of hers, ran off to the library in the middle of the night, and is now passed out under a pile of books.  I’m sure everything’s fine.”

Nathaniel blinked at him several times, then looked down to glare at the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “Uh…huh.”

The other man withdrew his hand awkwardly, frowning. “Sorry,” he remarked pointedly, holding his hands up in defeat, “Remind me to wait until you’ve woken up properly next time I decide to show you basic human decency.”

Nathaniel deflated at Alistair’s words. “No, I apologize.  I am just a bit tense as of late.”

“Yeah.” Alistair looked down at the floor and kicked at the stone with the toe of his boot before looking back up. “I know.  For what it’s worth, if I was in your shoes I’d… I don’t know what I’d do.  Probably fling myself into the nearest body of water.”

Nathaniel snorted derisively. “Thanks.”

“That sounded bad didn’t it? What I meant is--”

“I know what you meant.”

“Right.” Alistair let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “I’m going to stop talking now, before I put my other foot in my mouth.”

Nathaniel offered him a hint of a smirk to indicate that there had been no real harm done, then teased, “I believe that is a wise decision.”

Alistair smiled in return and nodded. “Anyway, I was actually meant to inform you that the commander would like to speak with you. She’s in her study right now.”  

“I shall see her at once.”

“And if I run into our Dear Lady Cousland, I will tell her you were looking for her.”

“Please, do.”

Concluding his conversation with Alistair, Nathaniel headed immediately toward the corridor that led back to the commander’s study, the room that had previously belonged to his father’s portraits and trophies.  As a child, he’d spent many hours hiding away in that damned room, dreaming himself up a better father than Rendon would ever be.  He was grateful Lucia now occupied the space, her solemn kindness and humility painting over the history that had once lived there, and he hoped that with time, she would eliminate his father’s stain completely.

The large wooden door  was left slightly ajar, a small band of lamplight leaking out into the hallway.  He still stopped and decided to knock, rather than just entering as others would have.  Despite her open-door policy, he refused to startle her without need. Three quick raps, and he waited for her response.

“You can come in, Nathaniel,” she called just loud enough for him to hear her.

He pushed the door open and entered, laughing. “How did you know it was me?”

Lucia looked up at him with a hint of a smile. “You’re the only person I know who knocks when the door is open.”

“Right,” he replied, pressing the door closed behind him.

The young woman he called his friend and commanding officer stood bent over her desk, despite a perfectly adequate chair sitting just behind her.  She propped herself up with one hand flat on the surface of the desk, as she thumbed through pages of some antiquated tome with the other.  Though her long, dark hair was styled in a low ponytail, it still fell down and cast a shadow over her face.  Surrounding her were stacks of other old texts and scrolls.

Lucia had been rather consumed by research as of late. An unassuming journal had found its way into her hands, one with writings that had been identified as Warden-Commander Duncan’s.  In it, he had documented an encounter with their very own Architect.  She hoped the record would provide them with some valuable information about the unsettling creature, and it had.  But it had also made mentions of an unnamed Grey Warden, a mage, who was freed from her calling, tainted blood healed and unable to be re-joined.

Ever since, Lucia had been pouring over Grey Warden lore and history and manuscripts about obscure magics, no doubt searching for something they all wanted deep down: A cure.  As honorable as membership in the order sounded, the same power that granted them their Blight-stopping capabilities became an unbearable curse in peaceful times, each moment that passed one breath closer to The Calling.  The commander was so young, and he understood her newfound compulsion to find a solution.  She was not the only one struggling to cope with the reality of a Grey Warden’s fate.

“You asked to speak to me,” he stated tentatively, almost as a question.

Lucia’s gaze darted up to him, and she straightened her posture. “Yes, I did.”

“And?”

She walked around her desk to stand in front of him, piercing eyes searching his face for an answer to a question she had yet to ask.  “How are you holding up?”

A twinge of irritation sparked through him. “Holding up?”

“Perhaps it is presumptuous of me to say as your commanding officer, but we are also friends, and as your friend I feel obligated to point out that things with Elissa have been a bit… tense since you two returned from Highever.”

“That is presumptuous,” Nathaniel replied through his teeth, “Even as my friend.”

Lucia stood, unfazed and blinking. “You can be annoyed with my concern if you wish, but that won’t make it go away.”

“Your concern is wasted.”  His words were clipped, and he crossed his arms.  “I am fine.”

“Nate,” she urged him, dropping her typical formality and reaching forward to place a hand on his arm, a gesture of which he was quickly tiring.  Still, they were friends, and he wondered if it might give him some clarity to discuss the matter with the woman.

He opened his mouth, prepared to provide a more honest answer, but clamped it shut as a knock rang out on the door behind him.  He released the breath he’d been holding, never more grateful for an interruption.  

“Who’s there,” Lucia asked.

“It’s Liss.  I just spoke with Alistair, and he said you wanted to see me.”

Nathaniel glared at Lucia waiting for an explanation that she did not provide.  Instead, she released his arm and moved to sit down in the chair at her desk. “You can come in.”

The door creaked open slowly, and Nathaniel turned to see Liss.  She froze in the doorway when their eyes met, wincing as if his presence had inflicted physical pain. Then she blinked suspiciously between him and the commander before flashing a smile and bouncing into the room. ”

“Good morning, Lucia,” she announced cheerfully, as she moved to stand beside Nathaniel, giving him a confusing, playful nudge with her elbow. ”Hey Nate.”

“Now that you’re both here,” Lucia began formally, “I have an assignment for you two.”

“Oh?”  Liss perked up, and fidgeted excitedly.

“Some sort of Warden business, I presume,” Nathaniel asked, making every effort to hide both his discomfort and his relief.

“Yes. ” Lucia nodded.  “As you know, a new Junior Warden was transferred to us from the Warden Fortress at Montsimmard last week.”

“The woman from Kirkwall?”

“Her name’s Bethany,” Liss corrected with a quick laugh, “I met her in passing near the baths.  She didn’t seem too keen on having a conversation with me at the time.”

“Warden Bethany has been through quite an ordeal in the past six months,” Lucia explained, “She is an apostate who was living as a refugee in Kirkwall with her family after they fled Lothering during the Blight.  She was Joined by a contingent of Orlesian Wardens after an encounter with darkspawn in the Deep Roads.”

Nathaniel frowned and brought his hand to his chin. “The Deep Roads? What was she doing in the Deep Roads?”

“It seems pretty fortunate that she would have stumbled into a group of Grey Wardens, too,” Liss chimed in.

“It had nothing to do with fortune,” Lucia continued, words stern and direct.  She stood up, clenching her fists at her sides. “Bethany and her older sister were part of an expedition into the Deep Roads to search for artifacts and treasure, accompanied by one of our own, who provided them with confidential Warden maps to help them navigate.”

The palpable vitriol from Lucia meant one thing, and one thing only.

“Anders,” Nathaniel asked.

“Yes,” she responded defeatedly, “According to Bethany he’s been living in Kirkwall ever since he deserted, running some sort of healing clinic.  He is the reason they were able to find the other Wardens.”

“Wow,” Liss remarked, “That all seems uncharacteristically noble of him.”

“Uncharacteristic of Anders, perhaps,” Nathaniel stated, “But not of Justice.”

“Right.”  Lucia’s gaze was fixed on the ground, deep in thought.   She looked up at them before sighing and speaking again, “As unorthodox as it may seem to assign a mission based upon personal feelings, I believe my reasoning is sound.  Anders is still a Grey Warden, one who I conscripted, which makes him my responsibility. I would like for you two, along with Bethany, to travel to Kirkwall and pay him a visit. ”

“And do what exactly,” he asked, annoyed by what felt like a waste of time, “Drag him back to the Keep by his collar?”

“That would be a sight.” Liss chuckled at his side and he rolled his eyes. “Ten silvers he sets your little chin hairs on fire.”

“He would have to catch me first. Twelve silvers.”

She smiled and winked at him. “It’s a bet.”

“If I am being completely honest about my intentions, I just want you to check in on him, “Lucia continued more softly, paying no heed to their irreverence to the task, “Make sure that he is safe and warn him against sharing too many delicate Warden secrets.”

“So this is not “official” Warden business then,” Nathaniel asked.

“I’m not sure the Wardens ever do anything ‘officially,’” Liss stated flatly.

“This is just for my peace of mind,” Lucia answered with a sad smile, “Besides, I thought you two might enjoy some time away together.”

Her investment in their relationship shamed him, causing his face to flush.  Lucia had so many other things that she could and should have been fretting over instead.   He flicked his eyes over to Liss, wondering if she felt as he did.

She only frowned and shrugged out a reply.   “I could use a vacation.”

“Kirkwall is a shithole,” Nathaniel told her frankly, words more pointed than he’d intended,”It won’t exactly be a vacation.”

“Not with that attitude, it won’t be,” she chirped, not missing a beat.

“Will you go,” Lucia asked.

“Of course,” he replied, with a reassuring smile.  Liss nodded along with him.

“Thank you both.”  Lucia seemed to relax, and sat back slowly into her chair. “You all should prepare to head out to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.  I’ve arranged passage for you there.”

Nathaniel nodded in acknowledgement, noticing Liss do the same as she spoke, “Is there anything else you needed, Commander?”

“No,” she shook her head, “You are free to go.  Safe travels.”

When he turned to face Liss , she was biting her lip and appeared to be lost in thought, a small wrinkle between her brows.  It was ridiculous to ache for someone who slept beside him each night, to miss her.  And yet he did.  Maker did he miss her.  That their companions sensed some sort of tension between them was not inaccurate, and had he been honest with Alistair and Lucia, he would have admitted that things were not “fine.”  He just was not ready to broach the topic of what happened in Highever with anyone other than Liss, and she had been all but avoiding any opportunity they had to discuss it for the better part of two weeks.  

Shaking himself free of his own thoughts, he nudged Liss with his elbow and held his arm out to her.  There was no guarantee that she would accept it, but he would be damned if he did not offer it to her.  When she glanced over to him, then down at his arm, and back up to meet his gaze,  her face lit up, bright and warm, and relief washed over him.  Thank The Maker he could still make her smile.

Without hesitation, she looped her arm through his and blinked up at him expectantly. “Shall we?”

A quiet chuckle escaped him.  “Of course, my lady.”

Liss had always been adept at filling silences, or at the very least making them comfortable; however, as they left Lucia’s study together, arm-in-arm, an oppressive and awkward quiet fell over them.  Nathaniel was no stranger to uncomfortable silences, but to share one with Liss was an entirely new experience.  He racked his mind for anything to talk about that would not cause her to withdraw from him, but came up short.  Hopefully he would be able to suffer his own discomfort until they made it back to their shared quarters.

“So,” she spoke up suddenly, much to Nathaniel’s relief, “Kirkwall. Just the two of us… and that Bethany person, of course.  This’ll be fun.”  She held his arm more tightly and let her head fall to rest against his shoulder.

“You really think so,” he asked, amused at her optimism.

She pulled away suddenly to look up at him, a pain he did not intend to inflict buried in her expression. “You don’t?”

“That’s not what I—” he paused, immediately frustrated and attempting to keep his composure— “It wasn’t meant to be serious.”

Liss continued to glare up at him, tears welling in her eyes, and he did not have a shred of an idea how to respond.  She had never been a rational person, but this was a bit extreme.  He squeezed and released his hands at his side as he fought the urge to reach out to her.  

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, looking down at the ground, “You’ve done nothing wrong.  I’m just—”

“Liss,” he urged, hoping that she would finally open up to him, give him some clue as to why she kept pushing him away and erecting walls between them that had never been there before.

“Nate,” she whispered, a single tear falling from her lashes and rolling down her cheek.

Without thinking he reached forward to wipe it away with his thumb, allowing his hand to linger on her cheek.  Her gaze softened at the touch, and for a moment he thought her defenses might falter, that she might let him in.  She brought her hand up to cover his, briefly allowing her eyes to flutter closed.  When she opened them again, there was steel in her expression and she grabbed his hand, gently pulling it away from her face.  With that, he withdrew his hand completely and stared back at her in disbelief, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded, voice hushed, “Please.”

“I can’t… do this right now.” She shook her head frantically, emotions barely held beneath the surface. “I’m sorry.”

“This is not something you can run from and hope it disappears, Liss,” he replied tersely, his frustration getting the better of him, “You can’t keep avoiding me.”

“I’m going to get some air,” she snapped, indignant and completely ignoring his remarks, “We can prepare for our journey after I come back.

“Liss, wait—”

“I’ll talk to you later, Nate,” she interrupted as she turned to walk away toward the front door.

They had done this dance too many times for him to be taken aback or even confused.  No, the only thing he felt at the moment was exhausted.  Countless times since they’d returned, he’d tried to get her to discuss how she was feeling, or to at least listen to how he felt, but she’d consistently found excuses or other ways to escape an actual conversation.  It was ridiculous and immature, and he was at a complete and utter loss.  

Ego bruised and chest aching, he made his way over to the bench along a nearby wall and sank down, resting his elbows on his knees as his face dropped into the palms of his hands.   What was he to do next except give her space and hope that things would be sorted out with time?

His ruminations were cut short as his ears caught the distinct shuffle of footsteps that slowed to a stop as they neared him and a hushed murmur of women’s voices.  He could not make out what they were saying, but the voices were familiar, and it was obvious they were attempting discretion and failing miserably.

“You two are not subtle,” he said with a sigh as he looked up to see the elf and dwarf blinking at him sympathetically, a look that had become all too common since he’d returned from Highever.  Did people sincerely believe him to be so pitiable?  His friends, especially, should have known better.

Velanna glanced between Nathaniel and the empty space beside him on the bench, brow furrowing slightly as she asked, “May I?”

“Be my guest,” he replied motioning to the seat, then letting his head fall to his hands again briefly before sitting up straight and watching as she sat down beside him.  Sigrun remained standing, but moved to lean against the wall.

Nathaniel glanced from one to the other several times, noting their heavy silence and persevering looks of pity.  He settled on Velanna, whose pinched expression he presently found the most irritating and asked, “Is there something you wished of me? Or do you intend to continue staring at me as if I were a lost puppy?”

“We are not—” Velanna began to retort, words echoing off the walls.  She sighed and continued more quietly, “We are simply concerned for you.”

“There is no reason to be concerned for me,” Nathaniel protested, “I am fine.”

“Hah,” Sigrun interjected, laughing, “You don’t think we’re going to buy that, do you?”

“You don’t have to,” he retorted sarcastically, turning to face his other friend, “I am offering it to you for free.”

“Come on, Nate.  We’re your friends, and we know better,” she pressed, “Besides, with the way you’ve been moping about the Keep these past two weeks, there are lost puppies I feel less sorry for.”

He bristled at her words, muscles tensing as he clenched his fists.  Just as he was about to snap, Velanna’s hand fell on his shoulder and his gaze darted back to her instead.  

“ Lethallin ,” she said firmly, a word from her own language.  She’d once told him it was a term of endearment for her People, one used to signify the closeness between friends.  He relaxed slightly, and she withdrew her hand to rest on her lap. “Was it not you who once told me I needed to stop viewing every expression of sympathy as a personal attack.?”

“That does sound like something I would say.” Nathaniel shook his head, snorted out a laugh, and slouched forward.  “I can’t say I expected that to come back and bite me in the arse.”  

It was silent for several beats, then he continued, apologizing for what seemed like the thousandth time in just an hour or so.  “I am sorry, truly. Everyone is so concerned about me, and I know that I should be appreciative, but... if I am being completely honest, it’s humiliating.”

“That is…” Velanna said, “Understandable.”

Sigrun nodded her agreement. “Definitely.”

“I—” he began to speak again, but was interrupted by the loud bang of a door slamming back against the wall.  Several scouts and pages gasped in surprise at the form that entered the hall, battle axe slung effortlessly over his shoulder.  “Nevermind,” Nathaniel muttered quickly.

“Never fear, Ol’ Oghren’s back and better than ever,” Oghren shouted at the far end of the hall as the door slammed closed behind him.  He appeared to scan the room, perking up when his gaze met Nathaniel’s, and immediately sauntering over to the bench.

Velanna sighed and rolled her eyes as Sigrun straightened up to wave and greet him.“Hey Oghren!  How’s the family?”

The dwarf had been away for just over a month visiting with Felsi, and their brood.  Ever since the turmoil in Amaranthine had ended, and most of the resulting mess cleared up, he’d been taking intermittent leave to be a more present husband and father.  He was certainly rough around every edge, but he was trying to be better, and that was admirable.

“Oh you know, same ol’, same ol’,” he answered jovially, stopping as he stood just a few feet away from the rest of them.  He brought one hand up and stroked his elaborately-plaited auburn beard proudly. “Felsi’s expectin’ again.”

“Maker’s Blood, man! Are you intending to father a legion?” Nathaniel exclaimed with a laugh that was cut short by a sudden realization.  He squinted at Oghren and continued, “Wait. Congratulations and all, but... how is that even possible?”

Oghren shrugged. “Beats the shit out of me. The Commander told me Grey Wardens weren’t s’posed to be able to… y’know...”

His words trailed off into a low chuckle and he waggled his eyebrows, eliciting a groan of disgust from Velanna.  At the same time, a mischievous smirk crossed Sigrun’s face and she tilted her head, crossed her arms and said with faux innocence, “No, Oghren, I actually don’t think we know.”

“Do not encourage him, lethallan ,” Velanna scolded, standing up as if preparing to escape.

To Nathaniel’s surprise, Oghren ignored the opportunity to pop off with an inappropriate joke, and instead looked at him, a hint of a genuine smile sparkling in his eyes, but hidden beneath his beard. “So, Howe, I figure congratulations are in order for you too, eh?”

Nathaniel stiffened, heart sinking like lead into his abdomen.  He shook his head and let out a laugh that was more bitter than he had hoped.  “No.  No that won’t be necessary.”

“Wait… what?” Oghren scowled and examined Nathaniel for a moment before protesting. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind?  Didn’t take you to be a chickenshit.”

“I didn’t.” Nathaniel stood up abruptly at the words, startling the others. “And I’m not.”

“Shit, I—”

“I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Nate,” Sigrun said gently, grabbing his arm.

He shrugged her off and stepped away. “I should go prepare for my trip to Kirkwall.”

“Nathaniel,” Velanna urged him, “Wait.”

“Thank you for talking with me,” he said flatly, glancing between Velanna and Sigrun, then over to Oghren, “It is good to have you back, my friend.”

“Yeah… sure.”

With that, Nathaniel gave his friends a nod, and turned to make his way to the nearest stairwell, heart racing as he struggled to remain calm.  

“What crawled up his breeches,” he heard Oghren ask behind him.

Nathaniel did not linger to hear Velanna and Sigrun brief Oghren on the events that had transpired while he was away.  He did not need to be reminded.

[kimberly-spirits13]

For Wandering Dreamers (Pt. 2)

 Synopsis: After hearing your parents argue about something for what feels like the zillionth time that night, you escape to your books and comics for some escaping of reality. Just as the argument ends with slamming doors, a note and locket landed on your bed. Inscribed on the note was a promise of new adventures and a better life awaiting you.

Notes: Y/F/D= Your Favorite Drink  Y/N= Your Name   Y/N/N= Your Nickname   Y/F/P= Your Favorite Playlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1979

          You woke up to the sound of someone trying to wake you up and small beams of golden sunlight peaking in through the curtains of your bedroom.        

           “Y/N, it’s time to get up.” You rolled over and rubbed your eyes to see Damian stepping back. His emerald green eyes sparkled in the light and you smirked some siting up and taking your hair out of the two braids that it was in, revealing wavy hair

           “What time is it?” You mumbled yawning.

           “it’s 9:15 in the morning. Alfred has breakfast prepared downstairs.” He informed you as you rolled out of bed fixing your shirt.

           “Thank you. I’ll be downstairs shortly.” You said, “Wait, where is the kitchen?”

           “So, you can make your way to the Batcave and the Fortress of Solitude but not the kitchen?” He chuckled, “You surprise me more and more every minute.”

           “Well, I have seen blue prints on Google of the house but it was how someone imagined it so I cannot guarantee that that is actually how to get downstairs.” “And also, you will find that I am in fact very impressive in multiple ways.” You smiled getting out one of the outfits that you packed.

           Running into the bathroom as Damian waited outside on the bed for you, you changed into your favorite colored thinner hoodie, denim jacket, dark grey ripped jeans, black and white Adidas, and you put your hair up. After that you brushed your teeth and then headed out to go downstairs with Damian.

           “Try and take the lead.” He challenged, “Just see if you can make it to the kitchen.”

           “Fine.” You replied walking down the hallway, eventually to a set of stairs.

           “Oh, what floor are we on Damian?” You asked.

           “Just the second.” He answered.

           “Cool.” You walked down the flight of stairs which seemed never ending and then to a double staircase that led to the massive living room and to the side, the kitchen.

           “It wasn’t that hard.” Damian remarked behind you.

           “Mhmm.” You rolled your eyes getting a small laugh from Jason who was leaning on the counter.

           “So, you must be Y/N?” Jay asked.

           “Yep.” You answered, “Oh Jason, just for your information, all of Tumblr wants you to know that you’re awesome.” “It’s a social media platform where I’m from.” You explained, “I don’t know if you guys have it.”

           “Finally, some recognition around here.” He threw his hands up in exasperation, “And what does Tumblr say about the rest of the crew?”

           “It’s pretty unsurprising really.” You answered, “Dick is the mother hen, you’re the awesome one that everyone loves, Tim is the sleep deprived little bean,” you laughed some and continued pulling up a link on your phone, “According to this, Damian is a small deadly cupcake, Cass is an amazing and beautiful person who everyone would seriously die for, Steph is a waffle queen, Babs is just a queen... no a goddess, Bruce is the mom jeans dad, and Alfred is superior to all. Oh, and Kate is a badass, Duke is the sane one, and seriously at the end of this it says that the writer would die for every one of you guys.” “So yeah, you guys are pretty popular.”

           Jason was wheezing laughing at Tim and Damian’s description and Dick was slightly offended before be introduced himself. You guys talked a lot much to what seemed to be the to the jealously of Damian for some reason. You wouldn’t admit it but Damian was your favorite Robin. You had had a crush on him but you know, that didn’t need to come to light.

           You sat down at the table and was talking to Damian again who was seated next to you as everyone sat down. They were asking questions and introducing themselves little by little. It was just as you had imagined it on the nights that you dreamed of leaving home or scrolling through some sort of fan fic. The breakfast was amazing and was enough to make you remember that you actually had a life outside of this. Plus, would Bruce pay for education? You weren’t really expecting that but it was the summer time so you assumed that there was no need to worry about that yet.

A few weeks later...

           You were walking around Gotham with Damian the day after the third gala that you had attended. It wasn’t hard to become fast friends with Cass, Babs, and Steph seeing as how they were literal queens of the entire Batfam and the rest of the family welcomed you with open arms, but recently you and Damian haven’t been spending as much time as the two of you would like to. It was something that he had “voiced” after kind of ignoring you for a few days which led to some interrogation on your end, plus some slight teasing.

           Finally, you guys were doing something that didn’t involve six other people, even if those *other people* were very much welcomed. The two of you walked down a sidewalk into a coffee shop where you proceeded to grab a table for the two of you and Damian got the drinks. He came back and smiled some, sitting down and passing you Y/F/D.

           “Thank you.” You said taking a sip from the drink.

           “Anytime.” He answered before the look of an idea graced his face, “There’s a book store not too far from here that you’d probably like.”

           “Is it a Barnes and Noble or just corner/ local shop?” You inquired.

           “It’s a corner shop just down the street. Trust me, it’s better than any Barnes and Noble you’ve ever seen.�� He answered.

           “Wanna bet on it Dames?” You chuckled some.

           “Only if you’re prepared to lose Y/N/N.” Damian challenged, “If this is the most impressive book store you’ve ever walked into, I get to take you out on a date Friday night.”

           “Well, then, I might purposely lose, Wayne.” You smiled at him some, the look of brilliant trouble glazing over your eyes, “And if I win, you can take me out and kiss me after the store.”

           “I might do both regardless.”

           You raised a brow, “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go see this awe -inspiring book store.”

           You guys walked down the street, swarmed by the media and paparazzi as they were getting pictures of Gotham’s newest unconfirmed couple. The two of you stopped in front of a store that read, “Corner- Shop Books.”

           “Straight to the point I see.” You said sarcastically as you guys walked inside.

           “Mhmm.” Damian looked to see your reaction which was almost immediate.

           The shop was bigger than you expected. There were shelves everywhere and a small sitting area near the middle of the store. In the back, there were stairs that lead to another floor of books and the seemingly infinite sea of literature drew in anyone that gazed into its glass doors. You were still for a second, admiring the large room and then walking around some, leaving Damian behind for a few seconds.

           To Damian, watching you was like watching a kid in a candy shop. You gently ran your fingers over some of the intricate spines of the books, making your way to the classical literature, and then myths, history, and up the staircase to where the fiction and fantasy was.

           He smiled as you looked so at peace in the world. It was the first time that he had really seen you this comfortable aside from some of the moments where you two were alone in the library reading or out in the gardens having conversations on whatever subject or topic you were interested in discussing. The thought that you guys might be here for hours crossed his mind, but was quickly brushed away once he saw the excited look on your face as you found something that was interesting enough to grab hold of your ever -wandering attention.

           “What is this one about?” He asked referring to the hard -back book with a beautiful pale pink and gold cover, and what looked to be part of a castle on the spine.

           You were reading the synopsis of the book before answering him, “It’s a book about a princess that comes from a lineage where the first of the family was a “god killer” of sorts. He defeated the goddess of death when she decided to take over the land and now the goddess, 300 years later, is back to reclaim her throne.” You stopped for a second, “It’s also got a male character who acts as an assassin for the king and may or may not be the romantic interest of the trilogy.”

           “The boxed set is right there if you’d like it.” He picked it up and handed it to you.

           “I’d like to not spend a ton of money on books until I find a job or something.” You said putting the book down.

           “I’ll get it for you. Just get what you’d like, the bookshelves in your bedroom are looking empty as of late except for the few you managed to bring. I can see how you stare at it sometimes with the look of dissatisfaction during some of our conversations.” Damian offered, joking some at the last part.

           “Dames, it’s okay I-“ He cut you off.

           “I insist Y/N.” He said handing you the box of books.

           You gratefully smiled at him and offered a thank you before continuing along in the store to hunt for more books. It was maybe three hours before you guys left. You had a few bags of books and thanked Damian profusely. He insisted that it was totally fine and you kind of stopped once you reminded yourself that he was, in fact, the son of a billionaire.

           Once back in the manor, you had run upstairs to start organizing your shelf, you know, as any book worm might. It wasn’t long before you got a knock at the door and you were pretty sure you knew exactly who it was.

           “Come in.” You turned off Y/F/P and waited for the person to come in.

           Damian walked into your room and shut the door, “So, about the bet.” He asked, “Was it the most impressive book store you’ve ever seen?”

           You thought for a moment, “Well I mean, the one in New York was really cool that one time, oh there was that one from Jersey...” You looked up and smiled, “Just kidding. And yes, it was by far, the best bookstore I’ve ever seen.”

           He smiled and walked to you, putting his hands on your waist, “Then I hope that you will keep your end of the bargain and accompany me to dinner Friday night?”

           “I will.” You replied, your breath hitching some at how close you two were, “I am slightly disappointed that you didn’t lose though.”

           “And why is that Y/N?” He asked.

           “Because now, you don’t have to kiss me.” You smirked some as he stared you intensely.

           “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” With that, he pulled you into a long kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair at one point, and he pulled you dangerously close to his chest.

           Once you broke apart he spoke up, “Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

           “That’s an offer I cannot pass up.” You answered, “100%.”

           “Well then beloved...” You smiled at the name remembering it from the fan fics, “I hope you have something to wear for our date.”

           “I’ll find something.” You looked at your stack of books debating whether or not to start shelving them.

           Your thoughts came to a stop when you heard that dinner was ready, you would just do it while Damian was on patrol. You were a night owl anyways, so it wouldn’t matter.

Ya’ll I’m dying I haven’t had literally any sleep but here we are lol. I hope that you guys had a great Easter and are doing well. If you have any requests, please send them in. I hope that you guys are staying safe and are well have a good day and keep sane! 😊

[ladylilibet]

Tainted Love|Chapter 5.

I/II/III/IV/V Tainted Love – How can you tell a lady no? The White Wolf claimed he needed no one, but his collection of misfits started with Lady Helena of Oxenfurt… and ended with her, too.

                    Chapter V: 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖙 𝕶𝖆𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖍𝖊𝖓, part I

Kaer Morhen.

Helena had read about the fortress before. The School of the Wolf, where Witchers were created and taught long ago. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the compound in all its grandeur during its formative years. Now, however, only sat the shell of something once great.

Rusted armor littered its vacant halls. Shattered windows poorly patched up allowed a stiff breeze, but not enough as the air still smelled of mildew and mold . She pondered how this was all Geralt knew of a home and found herself comparing their different worlds .

"Miss Helena, do I need to repeat myself?" A disgruntled voice interrupted her thoughts. "Silver and steel -- what is the difference?"

Vesemir, Geralt's mentor and father-figure, sat before her. She watched as the old man crossed his arms and shot a stern look in her direction. Like Geralt, his face was speckled with scars. A pair of golden eyes locked with hers, evidence of the mutations inflicted on a Witcher.

"Silver is for monsters," Helena stated, recalling what Geralt had told her months ago, as she gestured at the blades at their feet . "Steel is for humans. Steel can work on monsters too, but silver is more efficient, especially in cases like the Bruxa. Silver shouldn't be used on humans as it's delicate and shouldn't be used for combat."

When her companion told her that he knew a great teacher to teach her swordsmanship, she presumed he was referring to himself . Perhaps he'd taken into consideration her former education. That a slow-paced learning environment would benefit her more. Something he couldn't provide.

"Well done, Miss Helena." Vesemir stood with a stretch and a groan, "Later, we'll focus on how to properly hold your sword and stance.

Wait, she didn't think it'd be this slow.

Helena furrowed her brow, "That's all for today?"

"I didn't expect Geralt to winter at Kaer Morhen, let alone with a... guest. Though delighted to see you both, I mustn't let it get in the way of my nap.

"Lesson finished so soon?" Geralt questioned with a quirked brow as she left the study.

"Said something about needing a nap."

He hummed and drew her in for a hug. Helena was still getting used to the intimacy the Witcher displayed; he rarely did so freely. Each time, she'd feel his muscles tense, unsure. He'd melt the moment she'd wrap her arms around him -- touch starved and taking her all in.

"Since I'm not yet capable of steady holding a sword -- or at least until Master Vesemir wakes -- what do you suggest we do?"

"I could show you to your room," Geralt suggested with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The maiden titled her head and nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead of her voice, another spoke over her.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

The Witcher in her arms tensed up once more and muttered, "Fucking prick" ere abandoning her embrace. At the end of the hall stood two more Witchers.

"You know I heard that." The so-called 'prick' stated with arms crossed. He narrowed his cat-eyes at the pair and donned a sneer, "Who's your lady friend? Thought papa Vesemir said not to get involved."

His partner beside him walked over to greet Geralt. Despite the scar on his face leaving behind a permanent menacing grimace, he wrapped Geralt into a warm hug. Geralt returned the hug and gave the man a firm pat on the back.

"Helena, these are my brothers. This here is Eskel and that sod over there is Lambert."

Lambert faked a bow, "Charmed."

"Didn't think you'd be making it this winter," Geralt made conversation as he and Eskel began to walk down the corridor.

"Same as every year," was his reply.

Helena followed a beat behind to allow the friends to mingle. She looked to Lambert on her left who matched her pace but said nothing.

He eyed her back, "Never understood why you women wore blouses that show off your shoulders like that. Pointless. Showing off your tits, I understand, really. Noted and appreciated. But your shoulders? Bah." Unlike his older companion, Lambert didn't hold back nor hide his wandering gaze.

"Excuse me?"

"Too fuckin' cold in this dump," He quickened his pace to catch up with his brothers, "Got some whiskey from the Isles. Let's drink, men!"

Lambert took charge and now led them to the dining hall.

"Eskel, buddy, fetch the drink and some cups!" He sat down at a table with Geralt and Helena across from him. "How 'bout we play a game? Hm, strip Gwent?"

"I've never even played Gwent before," Helena replied with a frown.

"Even better."

Eskel came to the table, muttering under his breath he wasn't a barmaid. He set a tankard in front of each man and filled their cups.

"Only got mugs -- that okay, Helena?"

She hummed a reply and smiled as he poured her drink too. The drinking up looked comically large in her hands. She brought it up to her lips, sniffing the drink first, and took a mouthful. Much to the Witchers' amusement, Helena choked and sputtered, not expecting the burn.

"Want us to water it down for ya?" Geralt teased as he rubbed her back. She shook her head no, face red from both the alcohol and embarrassment.

"So, princess--" Lambert began.

Helena corrected him, "Actually, I'm only a Lady--"

"--whatever. What brings you to this shithole?"

Unsure how to answer, she looked to Geralt.

"Met her in Oxenfurt after a contract. Wanted to come see what we do." The white-haired man spoke for her with a shrug.

"So are you really a Lady?" Eskel asked.

She nodded with a small sip, "Lady Helena." She tapped her chin as she pretended to be in thought, "Though you may call me 'Your Grace.'"

"Your Grace," Lambert rolled his eyes and brought his mug up as if toasting. "Still doesn't answer my question. How? Sure. But why? Too many bonbons? Couldn't figure out which maid to terrorize?"

"Lay off her," Geralt ordered.

Helena dismissed it with a wave, "I want to feel like I was born more to be someone's wife and womb. I'm to be married in six months time and I want a memory I can look back on fondly."

Eskel nudged his buddy sitting beside him, "We of all people ought to understand the longing of choice."

"I've been working on a monster journal -- well, it's more of a diary, to be frank. I think it'd be swell to make a book about where I've gone and what I've seen. Hell, this is the farthest I've ever been from Oxenfurt. If it never graces a publisher or library, so be it. I'll read it to my brats before their wetnurse sees them to bed." She continued her rambling with blush and a chuckle.

The other two Witchers nodded at her, whereas Lambert clasped his hands together loudly, "So... Strip Gwent?"

"No," was the collective answer.

"Alright, killjoys. Any suggestions?"

The group thought for a moment and Helena spoke up.

"Back at university, we would play this game. It's called 'Never Have I Ever.' Someone starts by saying 'I've never...' and finishing the sentence however they want. Whoever has done that thing, downs a shot. Then it's the next guy's turn."

The game commenced and Helena was left to learn some interesting facts about the Witchers. Their mugs required multiple refills, she had yet to finish her first. She chalked it up to age difference and upbringing.

"Well, I appreciated the company," Helena took a last swig and stood, "But I should probably head to bed before I learn too much about you lot."

"Papa Vesemir havin' you polish swords in the morning?" Lambert teased causing the other Witchers to snicker at the innuendo.

Confused, she raised a brow and shook her head no.

"Aah, great, so you have time to polish my sword," The short-haired Witcher wouldn't relent and received a sharp glare from Geralt, "Fine, fine. I can polish my own sword while Helena polishes Geralt's. Eskel's sword is pretty small, so--" Eskel stopped laughing and swatted at Lambert who was consumed by his buzz.

Blinking, Helena shrugged it off. As the other two were consumed in a slapping fight, she dipped down to whisper in Geralt's ear, feeling brazened by the alcohol.

"I'll leave my door unlocked for you."

Bad idea.

Helena awoke a few hours to the sound of banging and crashing then loud shushing. She shot up and looked for the source of the noise as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

In front of her were the three Witchers, backlit by the moon. Eskel and Geralt were dressed down to their underwear, whereas Lambert was wearing her favorite dressing gown. Eskel covered himself and looked away whereas Lambert put his hands on his hips, showing off an hourglass figure.

"Y-you mad at us, L-lena?" Geralt slurred his words as he struggled to stand. Helena huffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Only mad that he looks better in it than I do."

[beatricebidelaire]

(sitting on the) edge of innocence

summary: Kit, Bertrand, and a talk in the Hinterlands about the upcoming opera night mission.

featuring: Bertrand, Kit. brief cameos of Olaf and Dewey.

word count: ~2.2k

alt: ao3

“Hey,” Olaf said as he walked into the kitchen, “you seen Kit?”

Bertrand felt himself tense slightly at the sight of O, but didn’t show it.  He continued pouring the boiled water from the pot into his cup carefully, his grip tightening around the handle.  The water in the cup eventually rose to the stage where he couldn’t add anymore without spilling it over when he walked, and he reluctantly put it down.  He knew Kit was out for a drive, but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to tell Olaf that.

On the other hand, it wasn’t like the answer would get Olaf anywhere closer to finding Kit, with vagueness of “out for a drive” and Kit’s driving abilities and how she had no qualms of going on a road she’d never travelled before, literally not figuratively anyway. It wasn’t like Bertrand had never lied to Olaf before, and he’d no problem doing it again if he needed, but he did try to avoid doing so when he could. As if he had some pre-allocated quota of lies he was allowed to tell him or something.  There wasn’t, of course, but he tried to stick to this principle if possible.

He was also currently keeping something else, something very important from O too, but he wouldn’t count that as lying. Those were two different things.  Besides, they were never that close anyway, it wasn’t as if he normally told Olaf stuff. If anyone’s Olaf’s friend that would be -- he stopped his train of thoughts and focused on the current situation. “She went out on a drive.” He said.

“Again?” Olaf rolled his eyes, huffing as he ruffled through the fridge, then found a sandwich. He began eating it as he walked out, “I’m starting to think she’s avoiding me.”

Bertrand was glad Olaf’s already one foot out of the kitchen and not looking back, because this meant he didn’t have to think of a reply to this.

He sighed, then took a sip of the tea.  

Kit had good reason to avoid Olaf, of course.  Getting an assignment from your organization to be part of the mission to murder your boyfriend’s parents wasn’t something that happened everyday.  But if Olaf was suspicious of something going on …

He needed to talk to Kit, even though this wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to at all.  

Bertrand decided that since he wouldn’t be able to find Kit immediately now anyway, he might as well do something else for now.  He slipped into a tunnel from down under the city headquarters, and headed for Hotel Denouement. Or, more precisely, the hidden underwater library.

Dewey lit up when he saw Bertrand, grinning. “Hey,” he waved enthusiastically, “I want to show you this poem I found.”

Bertrand found himself relax, the thoughts about the mission and the impending talk with Kit going away.  Not entirely, as they were still on the back of his mind somewhere. But it was easier to ignore them here, surrounded by books that formed some kind of fortress against realities.  In here, there were just piles and piles of books, poetry, and Dewey.  No opera house maps with escape routes drawn, no trying to get poison darts supplies without arousing suspicions.

Unfortunately, these brief moments of peace always came to an end too soon.  Dewey looked at him hopefully when he said “visit again soon”, and Bertrand meant it when he said he would try, but somehow he still felt suddenly guilty for some reason.

Kit stepped on the brakes with possibly much more force than necessary and the taxi came to a sudden stop. For a moment, it looked like she was going to hit her head.  It didn’t happen, though it was very close. She drew a deep breath, and slowly loosened her tightened hold on the wheel.  She tried to smile a little, or perhaps a flippant grin or something, so when Bertrand step into the taxi, she could make it seem like she was just braking like this for fun, like she usually did, instead of because of anger and frustration.  It was hard trying remembering how to smile though. She managed to pulled the edge of her lips up slightly, but it felt more menacing than fun.  

On second thought, whatever, it was Bertrand. She didn’t necessarily have to pretend in front of him, perhaps. Not like she had to with either --

The door opened, and Bertrand stepped in.  However menacing or odd her unnatural grin might be, apparently he didn’t have much reaction to it. “Kit, we need to talk,” he said, straight to the point.

“I gathered,” she said coolly, finally figure out a way to smoothly ease out that weird grin.  “Want to go anywhere specific?”

A part of her wished he would yes, then she could tell him “well, if you’re lucky, it might be the same as the place I had in mind” and then drove to the Hinterlands so she wouldn’t have to see Olaf for a while.

“There is a specific place I wish I’m at, but that’s not where I think this conversation could be held, so … your choice.”

She narrowed her eyes briefly at the statement, momentarily forgetting her own personal troubles and anger. “Is it an underwater library you have in mind?”

He looked slightly taken aback. “How did you -- ”

“Dewey isn’t just your friend,” she rolled her eyes. “He mentioned you two have been reading poetry together a lot lately.”

“Yeah, guess we are,” he shrugged, a little uncomfortably.  She had the urge to ask if he ever thought he was using Dewey and his library as some kind of safe escape from the real life burdens, or ask him if he could see Dewey’s feelings for him that were just so … there.  She ultimately didn’t, because just a look at him made her sure that the first answer definitely was a yes, and the second a no.

“Well,” she changed the subject abruptly, stepping the accelerator hard, “we’re going to the Hinterlands.”

She heard a soft sigh from him, which oddly made her slightly satisfied.  The car sped up in an extreme short span of time, and she gripped the wheel tight, her fingers clenching around it as if clenching to the last thing still within her control as everything else spiraled out of order.  Fuck Bertrand for having this perfectly organized, neatly ordered library to escape to whenever he wanted without even realizing Dewey’s feelings.  Fuck herself for being jealous but refused to escape the same way, because she wanted to prove that she didn’t need the perfectly calm, isolated, and organized comfort zones right there in The City like he did.

If she was going to escape to somewhere, let it be a bleak, cold, snowy place up in the mountains.

She glanced at the intersection briefly, then ran a red light as they left the city behind.

They sat by a cliff, gazing at the snow mountains.  She pulled a pencil out of her hair and stuck it into the snow, for no particular reason.

“You’ve been avoiding Olaf,” Bertrand said finally, “he’s probably getting suspicious of something going on.”

“What, you two talk?” she scoffed. Staring at the pencil in the snow instead of looking up at him.

“He talks and I keep an ear open for anything that might threaten the mission,” Bertrand corrected her.

She used one hand to hold the part of pencil that was just above the snow, and the other to bend the upper parts of the pencil forward.  The pencil broke, leaving just the bottom half stuck in the snow.  She looked up at him, eerily calm as their eyes met. “He might be suspicious in general, but he had no idea of what’s specifically going on.”

“Not yet.”

She laughed sharply, “And it won’t matter anymore at that point, will it?  It’s not like he’s not going to find out who’s in on the mission eventually. It’s not like we’re all going to go back to our normal lives pretending nothing happened. It’s not like he and I are still going to be together after this.”

“Fine,” he bit out, looking a little angry.  Her lips twisted humorlessly, thinking to herself that she bet Beatrice never saw this side of him.  Neither did Dewey, probably. Or Jacques or Lemony. “But it’s still best to make sure he doesn’t think anything’s out of order, or he might start digging around, and if he got some help from others it might interfere with this.”

He sounded like he had a point, but Kit really doubted Olaf would directly jump to these kind of suspicions just by her avoiding him.  He might think she was seeing someone else, possibly, but definitely not plotting a murder where his parents were targets.

“Beatrice and him are still hanging out like normal as if nothing’s happening,” he added, and Kit suddenly wanted to break something more substantial than a pencil stuck in snow.  God, so this is about Beatrice now, is it? You think you understand her?  

You don’t understand her like I do and you never will, she wanted scream.

“You think she’s perfect,” she said slowly. “Everything she does is never wrong.  You don’t even understand why she’s keeping up her appearances with Olaf and that’s not just because of the mission.  You don’t understand her at all -- you don’t understand her like I do.”

You don’t understand her like I do you can’t see her like I could you don’t see the real her completed with all her flaws and still love her anyway still love her still love her still love her rough sides and sharp edges and her darker sides still love her, she thought, painfully.

“Don’t confuse other people with me,” he snapped, and she wondered if he really meant to say ‘your brother’.  “I don’t think she’s perfect and I don’t claim to understand her or know if she has other motives for doing so, I’m just saying she’s not suddenly avoiding him in a way that would make him suspicious -- unlike you.”

A beat of silence.  Snow continued falling from the sky.

“Sorry, I’m just, so afraid something’s going to go wrong,” he said, voice dropping to almost a whisper. He looked very pained for a moment before immediately slipping back into his very particular on brand anxiously-trying-to-get-along-with-everyone mode. “I know this isn’t easy for you.  I’m sorry.”

She didn’t want to talk about it.  She didn’t want to talk about Olaf or how she wanted to avoid him, or how she had agreed at the assignment briefing that yes she would take on the mission, and yes they could trust her, she would be a volunteer first.

He was looking at her, worry in his eyes and all the previous anger gone. She could practically feel him vibrating with anxiousness.  

She was suddenly very, very tired.

She decided to talk about Beatrice instead. “Beatrice’s not just pretending nothing’s going on when with him for the mission’s sake. She’s -- they’re friends for ages and she’s going to miss how it was, once everything between them changes.  She’s trying to hold on to the final moments.” I know her I see the real her I see everything she doesn’t say.

“I never really get their friendship,” he said quietly after some moments of silence, staring at the white scenery in front of them. “She’s -- I think she’s a great actress and there’s a lot she’s hiding underneath her dramatic performances that dazzle people. But, it’s like an earthquake, you know?  Sometimes when the energy doesn’t release for a very long time and just kept accumulating ...”

“Some places never get earthquakes, though,” she pointed out, wrapping her coat around her more firmly.

“True,” he conceded.

They were quiet for a while. Then Kit said, “She won’t break, and she won’t let anything affect the mission, even if she’s trying to hang on to these last moments of friendship between them.  She won’t.  I know her.” Her fingers dug into the snow beside the pencil. I know her I know her I know her --

“Right, okay,” he said, quietly. “I trust you on this.”

“Trust me on what I said about Olaf, too,” she said. “I can’t handle this the same way Beatrice does because it’s easier to avoid him for me, but I do know him enough to know he’s not going to suspect anything specific until it’s too late that knowing what exactly to interfere wouldn’t change anything.”

“Okay,” he agreed, tearing his gaze away from the scenery and met her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust your decisions.”

He looked as tired as she felt, but she could also see the sincerity in his eyes. She didn’t have the energy to stay angry anymore, not in this cold snowy weather.  Plus, it wasn’t actually that easy for anyone to stay angry at him for too long.

“I know you’re just worried,” she said with a sigh.  She pulled out the half of the pencil that was stuck in snow, and pocketed both halves. “C’mon.  Let’s head back.”

[elenajohansenauthor]

Fictober18, Day 9: “You shouldn’t have come here.”

OCs: Shannon and Noah

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: none

Word Count: 1,932

About: Shannon gets Noah to help her with the interrupted ritual: progress ensues! [and now i’m only two days behind, I hadn’t written since Monday but I did 3K today, happy Elena is happy]

Noah settled cross-legged on top of my cot, while I sat at my desk. I blew out the candles.

“Hey, you're not going to—I didn't mean to interrupt,” he ended lamely. “Can you still, if I just sit here and be really quiet?”

I could try, but his presence would be distracting anyway. I'd never really been able to forget Noah was in the room with me, ever. Even when we were in class together, I'd known he was there. Even when we were sitting side by side at one of the long library tables, studying silently, I could hear the scratch of his pencil while he took notes, or see pages turning out of the corner of my eye, or simply feel the warmth of his presence. I hadn't known before that skinny guys could put out so much heat. I expected bulky guys to be radiators, but Noah always used to be warm.

I glanced at him, his magical gargoyle bulk further padded out by layers of clothing. He had his hands tucked under his crossed arms. Used to be.

“I have another idea now.” As I spoke, I put everything away except the altar cloth. “You shouldn't have come here, but since you did, you're going to help me.”

It didn't take long to perform the setup again. This time, I chose the first stone, the first candle; I knew their meanings. Noah looked into the box and chose whatever called to him, and I didn't ask him to explain why. I drew the third blind, as I had for the prayer I hadn't gotten to make.

The first stone was still carnelian. Noah chose a smooth, flat piece of snowflake obsidian: balance, inner and outer harmony, and protection of the heart. The final stone turned out to be tiger's eye, which made me smile. Truth-seeking.

Again, I still began with the black candle. Noah chose gold, which often symbolized the sun and male energy. I drew blue, for meditation, communication, and healing.

I left the center empty. I didn't need a picture to focus when I had Noah himself here. If I couldn't ignore him, which I knew I couldn't, then I would use him. “There,” I said as I lit the last candle and shook out the match. “Now stand behind me, put your hands on my shoulders.” The floor boards creaked under his weight, but he did as I asked without comment. He flinched a little when I raised my hands to his, resting them on top, but he didn't pull away.

“What do I do? You know I don't have any actual talent for this--”

“Hush,” I said gently. “You don't need to. And you don't need to do anything except be still and quiet. Try to think positive thoughts, if you can, but don't worry if negative ones show up. I don't imagine you've had a lot of practice meditating.”

“No.” His voice was deep and quiet. “Not my strength.”

It might be something he'd have to develop, a quieter mind, if he did end up a gargoyle. Anxiety and restlessness weren't traits associated with them.

I shoved the thought from my mind. We were going to figure this out, and I already had a plan to handle the worst. Noah was right—in a way, it was a comfort, knowing he could have a peaceful end if all else failed.

But I can't tolerate failure, not when my best friend's life was at stake. I'd already been failing him, slowly but steadily, for three years.

My mind was see-sawing already, good to bad, bad to good, bouncing around without finding the still spot in the middle. I gripped his hands tighter, focusing on their chill instead of pretending it wasn't there.

This close, I could hear his breathing. Perhaps he wouldn't find the inner stillness I aimed for, but he was relaxing, at least. That was something I could do for him, after triggering a surge of protectiveness strong enough to send him across the city to guard me, even inside my private fortress.

The fond tenderness I felt from that melted into a vague worry. Was that all he had left for me? Was that our relationship distilled down, or maybe whittled away, by the curse? He still had anger and fear, but was all our friendship gone under the drive to protect, especially as I was the person who could help him regain himself?

But in those questions came a sort of answer. I was the other thing that made him different, somehow. I was something the curse hadn't taken away from him. He held on to me because I was hope and sanity, his future and his salvation.

I only prayed I was worthy of that trust; there, I found the peace I sought.

After some time—I don't know how long—Noah's hands squeezed my shoulders. “Shannon?”

I came up from the trance slowly, dreamily. “Yeah?”

“Your breathing got so slow, I was worried.”

“I'm fine.” I rolled my head loosely a few times. “How about you?”

He moved away, leaving a cold spot in the air behind me. “Calmer, but...but no mystical revelations or anything.”

“I don't know yet how mystical mine was,” I said with a light laugh. Sometimes, after a ritual, I got giddy. “But I did come up with something. I don't have my notes here, but I suppose I can tape this in.” I searched my junk drawer for a scrap of paper and scribbled the time, date, and place at the top of the blank backside of a political flier someone had stuck on my window. I didn't run a community billboard or anything like that, so I'd taken it down, but I'd forgotten to throw it away.

“What did you see? Or figure out, I mean?”

“It's me. I'm keeping you human.”

“Uh, yeah? I don't remember it or anything, but you did replace my heart with a nifty bit of magic.”

“No, no, it's more than that. I don't know what, yet, but it's not just my Healing efforts, because those never did any lasting good. And that heart is your final defense, but it's not that either.” I swallowed hard and looked up from the paper. “I never told you, because I didn't want to discourage you. But I didn't think you'd make it this long, not three years, and certainly not long enough for me to run out of ideas. The heart was a stop-gap at best. It can't be the only thing preventing the transformation. Maybe it was at first, but something else is going on now.”

“Like what?”

“That's just it. This is a shot in the dark, but it's got something to do with me, even though it's not something I've done. I know that's vague, but can you think of anything on your part? Something you said or did, something to do with me, that could be strong enough to form a spell of its own?”

“Shannon, I'm not magic. I don't have any power, so I couldn't have done anything.” He sounded confused, but also faintly angry.

“You do, though. Now you do. You're almost completely made of magical stone now, and we shouldn't be ignoring that. Gargoyles' powers beyond everything obvious in their physical form aren't well known. Maybe they don't talk because they've got some kind of hive mind, or some telepathy, or something. Maybe they're so relatively inert because the stone gives them longer life spans—it's not like they're going to tell us how old they are! And no one has been able to compile any reasonable kind of census, not even of the population of a single city, because they look so alike and don't respond well to tagging.” More than one scientist had tried and gotten badly wounded for their efforts. “The list of things we don't know about gargoyles is probably long enough for a book or three or ten. So, yeah, maybe you did do something. You didn't grow up with magic, you don't know how to focus or utilize it because you never had to learn. But it's there. With enough intention, magic can do all sorts of things, like, I don't know, when people talk to their plants. It never worked for some people, the plants wouldn't grow, but for others it worked like magic. Because it was, only they didn't know it.”

My whole impassioned speech left me short of breath and more than a little high on my own intensity, but Noah sat there impassively, his brows drawn together to form that sharp little crease of worry. “I just don't know. I don't know what I could have done.”

He sounded so pained, it brought me right back down to earth. “Okay, Noah, okay. Just, think about it, okay? If you remember something--”

“I promise,” he said instantly. “I'll tell you.”

Our eyes met as we realized what he'd said. “I promise--” he repeated, at the same time I cried “Promise magic!”

“That's a thing, a real thing?”

I smiled at him fondly. “Have you ever broken a promise you made to me, all the way back to when we were kids?”

He shook his head with a dazed expression. “Not even when Jimmy Olvestad hassled me for three weeks  to find out if you had a crush on him and finally punched me when I swore I'd never tell.”

“Jimmy? I never had a crush on Jimmy. Wait, he punched you?” That would have been seventh grade—the Olvestads had moved away just after the school year ended. “I don't remember that at all, you never had a black eye or anything.” I felt faintly sick that I could have forgotten something so major, at least in the life of a kid.

“Um.” Noah cleared his throat. “That's not where he punched me.”

I went to him, hugging his head against my stomach. I couldn't not touch him, just then. “I know it's years too late, but I'm sorry for the pain you suffered defending my honor.” He chuckled into my sweater.

When I drew back, he was smiling. “So all those promises we made over the years—you think that's what's doing it? Because I didn't have any power for most of that time, so unless it's coming from you.”

I sat on the cot beside him, tired out from alternating between giddiness and anxiety. “I really don't know that much about promise magic. Truly unbreakable vows—I've heard stories, and they can backfire in spectacular and usually unpleasant ways. Honestly, the whole idea scares me a little.” Was it my imagination, or did Noah pull back at that, his arm jumping away from mine? “But good news, that's a new avenue to research, and one that won't take me to the Archives. I can do that at a regular, old-fashioned public library. And online,” I added as an afterthought.

“But you like having books in your hands.”

“Yeah, I like smelling them, too. You're a saint to put up with my book-nerd ways.”

Something soft touched my forehead, just near my temple. It was my turn to jump, but beside me, Noah looked happier than I'd seen him since...since the curse really started wearing on him, soon after it had happened. “Your book-nerd ways have been saving my life,” he said. “Thank you.”

Only then did I realize he'd kissed me.

[randomnonsensedragonage]

What the Future Holds

Cullavellan Week Day 7 -- 1256 words

Summary: While on a hike, Cullen and Aylwen reflect on the recent past and discuss the future.

A/N: Wait wait wait! Cullavellan Week can’t end until I post this thing I literally spent all day working on D:

(Okay, but, seriously, huge thank you to everyone who ran the event this year. I had fun. I hope you all had fun. I hope it’s still okay to submit this. Can’t think. Too tired. Good night.)

Cullen paused to wait for Aylwen on the steep uphill trail. Wary, he watched her pick her way over rocks and tree roots toward him. He stood ready, prepared to run and catch her if she stumbled or fell.

But there was no need. Occasionally she overbalanced, forgetting, as she often did, about her missing arm, but she managed to catch herself each time, grabbing on to nearby tree branches or wildly waving her stump to restore her center of gravity.

The sight filled Cullen with a confusing mixture of grief and pride. When they’d climbed this hill two years before, Aylwen had been so agile. The terrain here was rough, steep enough to require simple rock climbing in some spots, but she’d raced ahead of him, practically jumping from boulder to boulder in her rush to the peak. He’d had to remind her to slow down so he could keep up. Now, it was he who had to slow down for her.

And yet what a change from just a few months before, when even the simplest of tasks had been a challenge for her. The fact that she could manage this climb at all, and such a short time after the loss of her arm, felt like a miracle.

Now, she pulled herself up the remainder of the slope with the help of some loose vines. When she was a few feet away, she met his eyes and grinned. He offered his hand to her, and she took it, letting him pull her the rest of the way up the steep hill.

“I thought you preferred to do these things on your own,” he said. She kept her hand in his as she found her balance.

“I don’t mind a little help from time to time,” she said. She righted herself and stepped nearer to him, pulling his arm around her waist. “Especially when my helper is particularly handsome.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her, relieved by her cheerfulness. These last few months had been difficult for her, emotionally as well as physically, and there had been days when he’d wondered if she would ever be her old self again. It was a blessing beyond measure to be here with her, to kiss her without a care in the world.

They came apart a few moments later, and he reached once more for her hand. They continued up the path together.

“Don’t you love it here, Cullen?” Aylwen said, swinging his arm as she used her stump to gesture at the landscape around them. “Isn’t this hill the most beautiful place in the Hinterlands?”

Cullen glanced around, taking in the thick foliage, the dappled sunlight, and the faint calls of birds, before turning back to her.

“I love the view, but I don’t love the climb,” he said.

Aylwen rolled her eyes in mock frustration. “Practical as always,” she said. “The climb, my love, makes the view.”

Cullen grinned wryly. “If you say so, dear.”

She squeezed his hand again, and they fell into thoughtful silence, their footsteps crunching on the forest floor. This part of the trail was level, though he knew it would grow steep again before they reached the top, and Cullen relished the sudden calm and quiet.

They had spent the last few weeks visiting his family in South Reach, taking advantage of Aylwen’s recovery. Now they were on their way back to Skyhold, where they would at last begin the process of officially dismantling the Inquisition. It would take months of work to move their people and supplies out of the fortress. Months which would also see them hunting for any sign of Solas. Who could say when they would next have time for themselves?

“Cullen?”

Aylwen’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. He looked to her.

“I was just thinking,” she said. “What do you want to do after everything’s over? After the Inquisition disbands? After we stop Solas?”

Cullen frowned. The path was growing steeper ahead of them, giving way to rockier terrain. He gripped her hand more tightly.

“I would like,” he said, “to do something for Templars who’ve given up Lyrium.”

A large boulder lay ahead, so Cullen helped Aylwen scramble atop it. She steadied herself, reaching for his hand to pull him up after her. Atop the boulder she turned toward him, bringing his hand to her heart.

“Oh, Cullen,” she said. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

He reddened. “You think so?” Truthfully, he had only the vaguest notion of what he’d like to do to help, no idea how to put it into practice, but hearing the enthusiasm in her voice gave him new confidence in the plan. She leaned closer.

“I do,” she said. “You would be perfect at it.”

He grinned, and leaned in to kiss her nose. She giggled and pulled back.

“Help me get down first, silly man,” she said.

“Fine,” he said, still smirking.

She held his hand and he helped her down to the opposite side of the path. Once she was safely on the ground he followed her. A bit more scrambling over rocks, and then the top of the hill was in sight, nothing but a grassy slope left to traverse. Once again, they fell into step. The chill wind bit at their cheeks.

“What about you?” Cullen said, looking over at her. Her short, curly hair half covered her face, buoyed by the wind. “What do you want to do, after it’s all over?”

She glanced at him, and to his surprise she reddened as well.

“I want to write about the Dalish,” she said. Her voice was almost lost in the wind.

“Oh,” Cullen said. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

They reached the crest of the hill and were greeted by the sight of a grassy green meadow dotted with yellow flowers. Beyond it lay the lush fields and forests of the Hinterlands, spreading like a quilt toward the horizon. They came to a stop, and Aylwen gazed at the sight as she spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about it for awhile now,” she said. “There’s so much literature about my people, but nothing by us. And a lot of the existing literature is inaccurate.” She sighed. “You should see the Dalish history section of the Orlesian Royal Library.”

She tossed her hair out of her eyes, turning to look at him again. “I’d like to record some of our legends and customs. Write them down before they’re forgotten.”

She frowned suddenly, turning her gaze back to the ground, and he could well imagine what she must have been thinking. Her final encounter with Solas had shaken her to the core, and not just because of her arm. What would it be like, he wondered, to find out that everything you believed in was a lie?

Moving nearer, he put his arm around her.

“They won’t be forgotten,” he said. He squeezed her shoulder. “Not with such a skilled historian writing about them.”

She looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Do you really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” he said. “You can do anything.” He nudged her with his hip. “Even redeem Solas, if that’s what you really want.”

She frowned, but only for a moment. With a sigh she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Her smile was a child’s—completely safe and content. He drew her closer and she shut her eyes.

“Whatever the future holds,” she said sleepily. “I’m glad you’ll be there with me.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“No matter what.”

[erandir]

Fic: Parlor Tricks

A little something for Dorianmance Week. It’s not particularly fluffy or romantic, but then very little with Idhren and Dorian ever is. 

Special thanks to @timothytheplant for beta reading and letting me throw ideas at them when I got stuck.

Title: Parlor Tricks Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition Pairing: Dorian/Lavellan Summary: Skyhold has become home to a handful of abandoned mage children. The Inquisitor may secretly want to adopt all of them.

Essentially a deleted scene from Semper ad Meliora

More and more people arrived to Skyhold by the day. All manner of people. Farmers, craftsmen, soldiers, servants, merchants, templars, nobility, mages. A lot of mages. And children.

Mage children. Human and elf alike, some only waist high, made homeless by the dissolution of the Circles and with no choice but to fall in with the rebels. There had been children in Haven, too, though not many. That fact alone had tempted Idhren to turn them all away at the gates. This was a fortress in the midst of war, where they were liable to be attacked by an archdemon at any moment. But where else could they go? With no Circles or schools to harbor them, Skyhold was the safest place for a stray mage child.

So Idhren set aside a section of Skyhold for the mages to call their own, a tower and the adjacent wing of rooms, and made its reconstruction a priority. By the time construction was finished Skyhold was home to roughly two dozen teens and younger children from Circles in Ferelden and Orlais, and a couple from the Free Marches. He asked Vivienne and Fiona to help oversee their schooling, along with some of the other mages in residence. Idhren himself had neither the experience nor the time to do so himself, but he did find himself visiting the mage’s tower whenever he had a spare moment. To see that everything was running smoothly.

And if he interrupted lessons on rare occasions it was only because he wanted to make sure they were getting a quality education and not a Chantry brainwashing. And if those occasional interruptions usually ended with him sitting on the roof of that tower with a gaggle of students demonstrating parlor tricks it was only because they could never seem to focus on real work with the Inquisitor standing in the background. And parlor tricks were a perfectly good way to practice control. Idhren would know.

They clamored for his attention, frequently talking over each other in their eagerness to show off how their skills had improved since his last visit.

“Your worship, look look,” the youngest of the children was a human girl only nine years old, the same age Idhren had been when his own magic manifested. She thrust her hands out toward Idhren. “I made a snowball!”

What the girl held in her outstretched palms was a roughly spherical lump of slush, ice and snow all lumped together. “You did,” Idhren replied, and then because snowfall the night before had dusted the wall tops with snow he added, “With your magic?”

The girl answered with a vigorous nod, “I practiced to show you.”

Idhren smiled. “Well it’s very good,” he praised. “I can see you’ve been working hard.” The girl beamed under the praise. “And if you keep practicing, then eventually you can make something like this…” Idhren cupped his hands together and channeled his mana into his hands, drawing on the water vapor in the air and freezing it. With a small flourish he revealed a perfect sphere of ice the size of a large marble cupped in the palm of his hand. The sphere glittered in the dull winter sunlight as he handed it over to the young girl, who could do nothing but gape in amazement.

“But look what I can do!” another interrupted – a boy of twelve or thirteen years, if Idhren had to guess. He thrust his hand out toward Idhren and called up a small wisp of fire between his fingers, no larger than a candle flame. His face screwed up in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed. The flame flickered and grew, wavered and attempted to pull itself into a shape, then abruptly exploded, emitting a cloud of smoke directly into the boy’s face, and the faces of those nearest him.

Cries of alarm and complaint went up immediately. There was a smattering of coughing, some genuine and some overly dramatic. Idhren waved the smoke out of his face and laughed lightly, “Alright, alright, calm down. Nobody’s hurt, right?” As the air cleared he saw the boy who had cast the spell, a little ashy around the edges but unharmed. Wounded pride, maybe. Idhren knew that feeling, he couldn’t count the number of times he’d accidentally exploded something in his youth. “Now you see why we need to be very careful when working on primal magic,” he said, hypocritical though it was. “Even a simple spell can be dangerous if you lose control of it.”

“I was concentrating, though,” the boy complained.

“Maybe you just need a bit more practice, then,” Idhren suggested. “You’ll get it eventually.”

Before Idhren could offer any more tips, or watch any more tricks, the trapdoor leading back down into the tower creaked open and slammed back onto the wooden roof. The sound drew everyone’s attention and Idhren looked over the heads of the children seated around him. He expected to see one of the children’s instructors come out to call them back in to their lessons, so when Dorian appeared instead he was quite surprised.

The man quickly took in the scene before his gaze landed on Idhren. “Why am I not at all surprised to find you causing all this ruckus?” he commented.

The backfiring spell had been rather loud, but that was hardly Idhren’s fault. “Lord Pavus has seen fit to grace us with his presence,” he said blithely, drawing a few shy giggles from the children. “What managed to draw you out of the library?”

“I came to borrow some research materials,” Dorian answered, climbing out onto the roof. “Only to find you’ve sent everyone downstairs into a tizzy with your antics. What are we doing up here, then? Teaching everyone dangerous, forbidden Tevinter magics?”

“Hardly,” Idhren said, rolling his eyes, “We’re comparing parlor tricks. But, I suppose we’ve been long enough for one day. You lot should head back inside.” There was a lot of muted grumbling and complaints, but the kids did pick themselves up and begin filing back down the ladder into the tower. “Keep working on that trick,” Idhren said to the boy before he could leave, “Maybe you can show me next time.”

That made him perk up immediately. “I’ll get it,” the boy promised, full of determination and youthful enthusiasm, “And it’ll be amazing.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Idhren agreed. He watched the last of the students filed back into the tower and rose to his feet, carefully dusting off his pants.

“Teaching parlor tricks to children? Really?” Dorian asked when the last of them had disappeared, though they had left the trapdoor wide open.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Idhren asked, perhaps a bit defensively. “It’s a good way for them to practice finite control while making it entertaining enough that they actually practice. It worked for me, after all.”

“I suppose it did,” Dorian admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “Perhaps I’m merely surprised that you would bother to take an interest in their education at all. Beyond ensuring they have one, that is.”

Idhren frowned. “Why does that surprise you?” he asked. Why shouldn’t he take an interest? The children needed someone to encourage their talents, and someone to look up to while so much of the world still vilified their existence.

“I don’t know,” Dorian mused thoughtfully, “Perhaps because you seem to have so little interest in anyone else around here.”

“That’s not true,” Idhren protested. “I spend a lot of time with people when we’re here. We’re just not here very often. And I have an Inquisition to run.” Which left little time for socializing, but Idhren did try to check in on his people when his schedule allowed it.

“I’m sorry, I must have phrased that wrong,” Dorian replied. “I meant you have little interest in going out of your way to be nice to anyone.”

“Most people don’t deserve it,” Idhren quipped.

“Indeed,” Dorian agreed. “And yet you let those children live here – a questionable decision at best, but I understand your reasons – gave them this very nice tower, saw that they have proper teachers. You could have left it at that.”

“I could have,” Idhren allowed. “But those children are here because their families cast them out and there were no Circles left to take them in. They deserve better than to be shoved into a corner and forgotten about.”

Dorian’s lips quirked into a tiny amused smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve secretly been a bleeding heart all this time.”

Idhren let out a disgusted scoff and crossed his arms over his chest. “I realize you get off on pretending to be a vain, heartless asshole all the time,” he groused, “But there’s nothing wrong with feeling sympathy. They need someone to look up to.”

“And you so humbly stepped into the roll,” Dorian quipped.

Idhren scowled at him. “Are you being purposely obtuse?” he asked. And when Dorian only looked mildly confused by the accusation, he rolled his eyes and explained. “When I was their age I was a slave. The only person I had to look up to was another slave, my greatest aspiration to do a magister’s taxes.” He watched as the smile slipped off Dorian’s face, but didn’t stop there. “Do you think those kids haven’t grown up hearing about the dangers of magic and mages? Especially after Kirkwall and the rebellion? The same way I grew up hearing how worthless elves were?”

“I… never thought of it that way,” Dorian was forced to admit, more than a little sheepish.

“No, you never do,” Idhren complained. “It would require coming down from your ivory tower long enough to hold an actual conversation with a commoner.”

Dorian glanced across the fortress to the tower that housed the library - his usual haunt. “That tower is hardly ivory,” he commented. “And if that’s one of the renovations you have planned I’m going to have to protest. It would be terribly gauche, and clash with the rest of the architecture.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Idhren sighed.

“I do,” Dorian sobered, albeit reluctantly. “You so delight in pointing out all of my shortcomings.”

“Someone has to,” Idhren told him, quirking a small smile of his own now. “Your ego is bad enough as it is.”

“It’s a wonder I put up with you at all,” Dorian complained.

“I could say the same,” Idhren replied. “But you’re avoiding the subject.”

“Am I?” Dorian asked. Idhren couldn’t tell whether the ignorance was feigned or not, though he suspected it was. “What was the point, exactly? I thought I was merely teasing you for being a bleeding heart.”

“I am not a bleeding heart,” Idhren protested a little too strongly for it to be believed. “I just like children.”

Something about the words, or maybe the way he’d said them, made Dorian pause. A brief flicker of surprise, then terror, crossed his face before he managed to school his expression once more. “I had no idea,” he commented. “Is that… something you want? Children, I mean. Of your own.”

Idhren sighed, agitation bleeding away, and turned to look out at the surrounding mountains. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I never had much of a childhood myself. Or a family. Anyone to look out for me. I just want them to have a better go of it than I had. Is that so wrong?”

“No,” Dorian replied. And for once he sounded sincere. Maybe Idhren’s words had gotten through that thick skull after all. “Not at all.”

“Now’s hardly the best time to be thinking about starting a family anyway,” Idhren continued. He gestured out toward the green scar in the distant sky, a constant reminder of what they had been through and what they were still fighting against. “The world is ending.”

“True,” Dorian agreed. He stepped up to to the edge of the roof beside where Idhren was standing, hip propped against the battlement and staring out into the distance.

“Tainan wanted kids,” Idhren commented, quiet and only half-conscious of saying it aloud. “Even offered to steal one from a city for us.”

Dorian barked a short laugh, “And you Dalish wonder where all those horrid rumors come from.”

“Do you?” Idhren asked before he could think better of it, turning his face up toward Dorian. “Want children?”

The silence that followed was long and decidedly uncomfortable. “It’s not something I’ve ever given any thought,” Dorian said eventually. “At least, not without the context of a horrid loveless marriage to a woman I can barely stand, which makes everything look terrible by proxy.” Idhren could only imagine, and nodded his understanding. “Get back to me when the world is no longer ending. If we live that long.”

Unable to help himself, Idhren smiled. “I can do that,” he promised. Rising up onto his toes he pressed a kiss to Dorian’s cheek, barely catching the corner of his mouth. “Maybe spending some time with the students would help make your decision,” he suggested with a smirk. “I’m sure they’d love to learn something from a rebel magister.”

“Oh, for--,” Dorian cut himself off with a frustrated sigh. “Tell me you are not perpetuating that infuriating misconception. You know better!”

“Correct it yourself,” Idhren laughed. A cold wind gusted across the wall tops and he instinctively shifted closer to Dorian for warmth.

Dorian visibly shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. “You are completely insufferable,” he complained, “As is this blighted weather.”

After five years in the south Idhren still hated and dreaded winter, but he had at least learned how to dress for the cold. Dorian, on the other hand, still considered silk a valid fashion choice when there was snow on the ground. “Let’s go back inside then,” he sidled up closer to Dorian and slipped his arms around the taller man’s waist, “I’ll show you just how insufferable I can be.”

Dorian rolled his eyes but huffed in amusement. “Is that so?”

To answer, Idhren rose up onto his toes, one hand moving up to Dorian’s shoulder to pull the man down until their lips met. The kiss was slow and sweet, belying the heated promise in Idhren’s words, but when they parted Idhren was smiling. He slipped out of Dorian’s arms and moved toward the trapdoor. “Unless you have something better to do.”

“You know, I can’t think of a single thing,” Dorian replied, and followed after the grinning elf.

[hermanwatts]

Sensor Sweep: Haggard Art, Paperbacks, David Drake, Lankhmar RPG

Books (Wasteland & Sky): The common Joe was abandoned for fandom. Unfortunately for them, pocket paperbacks is the key to reaching the largest possible audience. This was part of the secret to the form’s success. Pocket paperbacks were meant for normal people. Abandoning the masses is never a smart idea.

D&D (Jeffro’s Space Gaming Blog): New school games typically give the players latitude to play whatever type of character they want. This ranges from GURPS where classes and levels are dispensed with and every conceivable character ability is broken down into point values all the way up to recent editions of D&D where there are a bewildering range of races, classes, feats, and so on. The newest of new school games emphasize elaborate player character backstories that the Dungeon Master is expected to somehow tap into in his campaign story.

Art (DMR Books): “The collector who commissioned it was a Haggard fan with a Haggard room. He had several well-known illustrators do paintings for his room, i.e. Jeff Jones, Michael Whelan, etc. A few years ago he decided to give it all up and sold all of his books and paintings.”

Guides (Pulp Net): A pulp magazine price guide? Yup. Bookery’s Guide to Pulps & Related Magazines by Tim Cottrill is the second edition of this work and came out in 2020 from Heritage Auctions via Ivy Press. The first edition came out in 2005, which was actually an update of The Ultimate Guide to the Pulps from 2001. Tim Cottrill owns a book/collectibles store called Bookery Fantasy in Ohio, hence the name.

Pulps (Michael May): So was Planet Stories all that bad? Certainly it featured plenty of space opera and sword-and-planet action. Many of the best of Leigh Brackett’s stories appeared in Planet Stories, including her classic Eric John Stark tales of Mars. In fact, she was instrumental in carrying on the vision of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Mars as a world of strange wonders. This in turn gave Ray Bradbury a place to grow his Martian Chronicles with stories like “The Million Year Picnic,” “Rocket Summer,” and “Mars is Heaven,” standard texts in classrooms and libraries as serious literature.

Book Review (Scifi Movie Page): When the first Assassin’s Creed game was released back in 2007 it became one of those landmark games that you purchased a game system (in this case the Playstation 3 or Xbox 360) just to play. This massive, oversized, 256 page hard cover book covers the complex history, storylines, and characters that have made Assassins Creed one of the most successful videogame franchises of all-time.

RPG (Matthew J. Constantine): Lankhmar is one of the definitive cities of the Fantasy genre.  Created as a backdrop to match leading characters Fafhrd & the Gray Mouser, Fritz Leiber gave us a marvelous playground for the imagination.  Like Leiber’s stories, the city has inspired many in the tabletop RPG hobby over the years. From the City State of the Invincible Overlord to Waterdeep and beyond, it is the proto-urban setting for Fantasy games, and it’s been made and remade by various companies over the years.  The latest is Goodman Games, who’ve produced an impressive set of resources to help guide characters into the world of Nehwon and the city of Lankhmar.

Culture Wars (Kairos): You probably have a favorite movie franchise, TV show, or comic book series that hooked you as a kid. It’s a good bet that many of your fondest childhood memories are associated with that franchise. Compared to the fun, uplifting IPs of yesteryear, the new versions run the gamut from pale imitations to brazen impostors. The magic is missing, but you can’t put your finger on what happened to it. Is something wrong with the product itself, or is it just you getting older? It’s not just you.

Science fiction (M Porcius): If you type “Barry Malzberg” into the search field at the indispensable internet archive one of the things that comes up is The Mammoth Book of Erotica, edited by Maxim Jakubowski and published in 1994. There are also offerings from Anne Rice and Clive Barker, in whom I have little interest, and Robert Silverberg, Ramsey Campbell, and Samuel R. Delany, writers whose work does interest me and about which I have written several times at this little old website of mine.

Cinema (Red Planet on Film): Devil Girl From Mars (1954). I love this movie. If I had to choose a dozen movies to take to a desert island for the rest of my life, this would be one of them. Many will find this a disturbing admission. “How,” some people would wonder, “could a sane man, a competent author, say such a thing about this movie … in public even?” Those who are familiar with this film will remember that the story seems to revolve around the kidnapping of earthmen to take to Mars for breeding purposes—which nearly all the summaries of the film focus on right from the outset.

Fantasy (Sorcerers Skull): What would Middle-earth be if presented in a more pulp fantasy (not just Robert E. Howard) sort of way? You could do a really comprehensive overall, sure, where maybe only the names remain the same, but I think a few tweaks here and there would make a big difference. Just take a look at things that are already pretty pulpy: 1) a fallen age following the sinking of a “Atlantis”; (2) Orders of beings with some more advanced and others more degenerate than others; (3) a lot of ruins strewn about.

D&D (CBR.com): Dungeons & Dragons is one the oldest, most beloved traditional gaming series in history. For over forty years, gamers have taken on the roles of human barbarians, elven druids, dwarf paladins and half-orc bards — or whatever other brilliant mix of races, classes and personality traits they could conceive. It is a game perpetually limited only by the players’ and dungeon master’s imaginations. However, when Gary Gygax created the game, he didn’t come up with everything from scratch. Rather, he read the most popular books in the fantasy genre at the time — and many underrated books that have since faded into obscurity — and picked the elements of fantasy best suited to springboard off of.

Art (DMR Books): Artist Tom Gianni died on March 30, aged sixty years old, from cancer. His day job was working as the top courtroom sketch artist for several Chicago TV stations. However, what he did off the clock falls squarely in DMR Blog territory. First, though, let’s look at that courtroom job–believe me, it has relevance. This is what Tom’s own website says: “He has drawn Mafiosos, corrupt politicians and serial killers. He recently covered three high profile trials: the trial of Illinois governor, Rod Blagojevich, the Jennifer Hudson family murder trial, and the trial of the notorious Drew Petersen.”

Science Fiction (Free Beacon): David Drake’s books always seem to carry a blurb from the Chicago Sun-Times—a line extracted from an old review that claims Drake has a “prose as cold and hard as the metal alloy of a tank.” He “rivals Crane and Remarque” as a writer of military fiction. And there you have it: The Red Badge of Courage (1895) and All Quiet on the Western Front (1928) are joined by Drake’s tale of intergalactic mercenaries, Hammer’s Slammers (1979).

D&D (Skulls in the Stars): The Dragonlance Game (1988), by Michael S. Dobson, Scott Haring and Warren Spector.  Here’s a boardgame that was a huuuuge deal when it came out, but I was somehow unaware of until I saw a used copy come by recently! It probably wasn’t on my mind when I was a teen, as I was into RPGs, not board games. The board game is based on the hugely successful Dragonlance novels and D&D modules that started in 1984 with the released of Dragons of Despair, by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman.

Weird Western (David J. West): I’ve got a short weird western tale in the newly released A Mighty Fortress anthology. It is a Porter Rockwell short titled, The Tears of Nephi. Its a little light on steampunk, but I put in a little – the collection as a whole has the unexpected grouping of being Mormon Steampunk tales, and was initially inspired by the incredibly awesome Dave Butler.

Sensor Sweep: Haggard Art, Paperbacks, David Drake, Lankhmar RPG published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

[dkyoungone]

Annotated Bibliography Final Draft

“The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind.” Bethesda Softworks, 1 May 2002. 

The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind is the first game in The Elder Scrolls series of games that prominently features Dwemer ruins and information regarding their disappearance. Within the game, there is a single Dwemer male that the player character can interact with and talk with to understand a little bit more about their society, technology, and disappearance. There is also a character within the game, Vivec, one of the "false gods" of Morrowind, formerly Resdayn, that was involved in the events that lead up to the disappearance of the Dwemer. He was one of three Chimer individuals to use the same technique the Dwemer used on the Heart of Lorkhan to become nearly immortal deities with godly abilities while still remaining mortality to an extent. He supplies you with information regarding the Dwemer, his city, and the incident as a whole. The combination of these two characters combined with the story of Morrowind makes the game one of the most valuable resources regarding the Dwemer and their disappearance. The game itself is considered the best Elders Scrolls game by a majority of veteran players of the series as it has many of the features that players long to use in the more recent installments of the series. It has a phenomenal story that uses lore elements as plot devices. It also uses pieces of history specific to the province of Morrowind that make the game interesting to play. Overall this was a phenomenal source of information as the player character is apart of a prophecy from just after the disappearance of the dwarves that was foretold by the daedric prince Azura.

“The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.” Bethesda Softworks, 11 Nov. 2011. 

The game of which I base my questions and the majority of my research out of. This specific game is the fifth installment of Bethesda's IP, The Elder Scrolls. In the game you play as the "Dragonborn," a mortal born with the gift of dragon blood. In the adventures of the Dragonborn, there are a number of Dwemer ruins dotted throughout the province of Skyrim that you as the player are able to explore and see for yourself. Skyrim takes place in the fourth era, millennia after the disappearance of the Dwemer. There are dozens of books and pieces of information throughout the game that give a good idea of what kind of information the researchers within the Elder Scrolls universe have on the Dwemer and their disappearance. As I played more and looked more into the lore with my research and questions in mind, it stood out to me that this game was an extremely useful resource when it came to finding real world parallels inside the universe of the Elder Scrolls. It had three main researchers that I encountered and most vividly remember. Three researchers looking into three very different things even though they were researching and looking into the same umbrella topic. It made it clear to me that the philosophical connections between the game and the real world are there and are fairly easy to find if you are looking for them specifically. Even more than that, the politics within the game universe reflect real world political tactics and ideologies.

Reynolds, Jack. Understanding Existentialism. Chesham : Routledge, 2006. 

This book explains the theory of existentialism and how it is portrayed in media and literature throughout its history. It explains the viewpoints of prominent existentialists of the past and how they shaped the modern day view of existentialism. The books also provides an easy to understand introduction to the ideology of existentialism. It talks about different books, plays, and other mediums for information authored by a variety of different authors coming from different schools of thought and background. It talks about themes among the authors and different pieces of literature that tie the ideas of existentialism together and make a general idea of what every author and philosopher mentioned within the book would consider existentialism. The book provides a very good basis for connecting the themes I researched within the Elder Scrolls Games and real world philosophy. This helped me immensely in my research due to it busting a few misconceptions I had about the philosophy of existentialism. Without this book there would have been quite a few errors regarding my information on the philosophy I was connecting to. It was an interesting read that definitely broadened my understanding of existentialism and was a good resource for me to use throughout my research to compare and contrast what is and what isn’t nihilism, it helped me give a baseline for what to look for when it comes to comparing existential philosophies and nihilistic philosophies.

Scott, et al. The Fall of the Dwemer - Ancient Advanced Civilization - Elder Scrolls Lore. Performance by Drew, YouTube, FudgeMuppet, 4 Nov. 2018, www.youtube.com/watch?v=YNoWCw2i784. 

This video is a relatively long video that describes and gives major background to the Dwemer (or dwarves) in the Elder Scrolls Universe, and details into their fall from power and disappearance from the Elder Scrolls mortal plane, The Mundus. I explains how the dwemer perceived the world and how they interacted with other species of the time. It explains their cities and what was held within their underground fortresses. It gives locations for key events and explains said events in as much detail as was given in the game universe of The Elder Scrolls. It explains their society, politics, and architecture and how they used these things to their advantage. It explains their conflicts and disagreements with other races in the regions the Dwemer inhabited. It explains their affinity for magic and technology and how they were considered heretics by the other races due to having no faith in the gods of tradition, not by non-believing, but by making conscious decisions to not give power and faith to the gods traditionally worshiped in Tamriel (the main continent of focus in The Elder Scrolls).

Scott, et al. The First Era EXPLAINED! Ayleids, Dwemer, Akaviri Invasions - Elder Scrolls Lore. Performance by Scott, YouTube, FudgeMuppet, 14 Oct. 2018, www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTZO8j3LQaQ. 

This video details the First Era, the era in which most of Dwemer history (according to fourth era, researchers) is recorded and recognized. As the first era is multiple millennia in length, the video details every significant event recorded in the continent of Tamriel that took place in the first era. It describes one of the rivals of the Dwemer, the Ayleids and some of their history. It also describes the different wars the Dwemer had amongst themselves and with the other races of Tamriel. The video also describes the rise of humans in Tamriel and the fall of the elves, which the Dwemer are considered part of. It mentions the creation of the First Empire, the Alessian Empire under Saint Alessia and how that affects Resdayn, the land of the Dwemer and the Chimer, and its residents. The video provides a detailed timeline to follow for the known events of dwemer activity in Tamriel up to the time of their disappearance less than halfway through the first era. The video is extremely helpful as it gives at least one account of a timeline for the events along with other sources that have been gathered. Even though the dwemer were very secluded and much of their history is lost to the rest of us, the dwemer still had interactions with other races, and when those interactions happened, they were recorded so there are at least a few records in writing of the dwemer and certain interactions between the different races of Tamriel and themselves.

Raptormeat. “The Definitive Guide to Dwemer.” Edited by Xan, The Definitive Guide to Dwemer | The Imperial Library, The Imperial Library, 24 June 2010, www.imperial-library.info/content/definitive-guide-dwemer. 

The Imperial Library is a collection of Elder Scrolls lore from every source imaginable. This includes the games themselves, any books the producers and story writers of the games have written based on the games, statements and forum posts from official story writers, etc. This happens to be the largest library of official information regarding every topic found within the universe of the Elder Scrolls. The specific topic I researched here was the overview of the dwemer. Interestingly, there is information here that I was unable to find in the games, this was most likely due to the story writers or former story writers from Bethesda talking about different aspects of the dwemer mystery and their history. Since there is not a lot to go off of in the games, the word of official writers from Bethesda is huge in determining the reality and truth of the dwemer and the events that took place when they still walked the Mundus in the lore of the games. The Imperial Library is one of the best places to go if you have questions that need to be answered or an interest in a certain topic and you don't want to dig around the game for a few hours to find a specific piece of dialogue. It really made the whole journey with this project so much easier as there is just so much information here to help ease my understanding of the complex topics of Chim and the disappearance of the deep folk (the dwemer). With the help of this library, I came to the conclusion some of the initial research I did was incorrect, which is a good thing and means I was able to go back and correct things that I wasn't able to correct originally. Overall, this was possibly the most useful tool to understand the dwemer, their society, and their philosophy.

Christy. “Nihilism.” AllAboutPhilosophy.org, All About Philosophy, 22 May 2019, www.allaboutphilosophy.org/nihilism.htm. 

This website details many different aspects of philosophy and the different philosophies around the world, and at different times of the world. This page details different aspects of nihilism in general and helped me to understand the different types of nihilism that may pertain to my research and study. This website also helped me understand how I confused existentialism with nihilism when, in terms of philosophy, are two very different terms and ideas. It details the differences between the different forms of nihilism and how they relate back to the general term. To me it is extremely interesting that nihilism is as prominent as it is within games and other types of media. It is an interesting idea to think about, yet scary at the same time. So many people wouldn't be able to cope with the idea that life is meaningless, that religion or morals are meaningless. It would shatter people and shatter the foundations that we as humans have established over the past tens of thousands of years. It seems like people, regardless of their background will tend to, yet not always, find some way to give their life meaning to avoid this exact feeling that I am trying to describe and identify. The majority of people would do anything to find meaning to life or to existence. So it is interesting to see that Bethesda have created a race of people that simply do not care for moral or religious values, seeing their life as a way to expand their knowledge.

Gorynski, Max. “A Guide to Nihilism in EarthBound.” With A Terrible Fate, 5 Mar. 2018, withaterriblefate.com/2018/02/13/a-guide-to-nihilism-in-earthbound/.

This article is just something I wanted to include to prove that nihilism has been used in games prior to the conception of the Elder Scrolls as a series and it serves as a device in certain games to isolate the protagonist and/or the player character. The article itself is really interesting as it tells of the game universe itself being nihilistic and not caring about the "heroic deeds of the player." EarthBound broke the RPG world with a unique story that appealed to almost everyone who played it. Yet, the main breaking point was that of the game itself not caring about what you do, it will still push you down and kick you when you are down, even if you have been the best you could have been to the characters in the universe. The universe of EarthBound doesn't care, as is said multiple times in different ways throughout the article. It demonstrated to me that my point of research was not totally in vain, and that it is valid to be looking into something as deep and unsettling as nihilism in a video game that will *most likely* be played be a smaller kid at some point in time. Regardless of who plays it, the game won't care, it will still come at you as much as it would come at a 25 year old on their 100th run through the game. The game is programmed to be like that and to challenge the player. I'm not saying that the dwemer caused a great deal of pain to the player in the Elder Scrolls games, yet I just want to fully understand how different developers would use the concept of nihilism in their games and in their characters. Finding this article was very reassuring to me that I was not wasting my time trying to connect the dots between a fictional fantasy universe and the real world via philosophy.

“Morrowind The Last Dwarf.” YouTube, The High Coyote, 13 Mar. 2013, www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLtju_RF5qU. 

This video is the interaction you are able to experience with the last living dwarf, Yagrum Bagarn, during the events of The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind. Yagrum, like he said in the video was in an outer realm (likely a plane of Oblivion, the realm of the daedra) when the events of the Battle of Red Mountain took place (this is the exact event that is marked as the specific point in time that the dwemer disappeared into nothingness without a trace). The reason he is back in Morrowind and not travelling the rest of Tamriel looking for his fallen brothers and sisters is due to his development of a disease called Corpus. It takes away much of the functionality of the mind and body of the afflicted and can lead victims into madness. At the time of the events of Morrowind, there was no cure, and to my knowledge, corpus has not been mentioned within the games since then. It is really interesting to hear the account of Yagrum, as he had first hand experience with Lord Kagrenac and was himself a magecrafter and tonal architect. I've always been really fascinated with Yagrum and the dwarves, so being able to actually witness this interaction in game after playing through Morrowind was a phenomenal experience. It was kind of surreal since I've been fascinated by the dwemer since I first laid my hands on Skyrim. To me, it is a game that you can really just sink into and easily lose 5 to 7 hours of your day just exploring and discovering. That was one of the one events that has always bothered me even though I have played though all three modern games at least once.

MrRhexx, director. Skyrim Lore: Dwemer Secrets! YouTube, MrRhexx, 30 July 2013, www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHwosuNAHWI. 

This video is another account of the events and characteristics associated with the dwemer in the Elder Scrolls and describes the lore associated with the disappearance of the deep elves in a much different way than FudgeMuppet's video. This video is a lot shorter than the video by FudgeMuppet but this video has a few things the other video didn't have that were fairly important to the story. Specifically the interaction with Azura, one of the daedric princes (they are similar in power to the aedra, or gods, yet didn't help in the creation of the Mundus) was extremely important as there is a theory that I will get to in my research paper that details a likely possibility for the disappearance of the dwarves. Essentially it involves Azura not wanting the dwarves to achieve ascendance and immortality, and employing the service of her followers, the chimer, to go to war and prevent the dwemer from using the Heart of Lorkhan. It is described in further detail in the video, yet there is a theory that goes off of that information that I discovered while reading on the Imperial Library. I think that is really important to understanding the mystery entirely and could potentially unravel a good portion of my theory, but I have to go and find the closest thing to the truth. This video helped open up my eyes to the feasibility of said theory and expand my understanding to help me piece together the connection from The Elder Scrolls lore to real life philosophy.

[aeyemenethes-blog]

Lathbora viran Ch. 11

So Friday's here again and surprisingly, even with a very busy schedule, I've managed to post another chapter of Lathbora so please enjoy. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10213937/chapters/24368682

 The morning passed in a blur of colours and voices. The electricity of Ellana’s lips still buzzed along mine, and with every intake from my lungs brought a new blossom of her aroma. When she walked down from the Inquisitor’s Tower, my eyes followed her, and didn’t leave as she sat at the head of the table. Her gaze automatically found mine, and I looked away.

“So… how was last night, eh?”

I shot a glare at the Tevinter mage, only to have Dorian burst out laughing.

“Come now, Solas, you didn’t think you both leaving so abruptly during dinner would go unnoticed did you?” Dorian clapped me on the back and nudged his other elbow into Varric sitting on his other side.

I stood then, picking up the tome I was reading, my plate and my half-full mug. “I do not think it is any of your business, Dorian.”

My gaze flickered back to the Inquisitor, feeling heat rush through my veins creating a hotter fire than any magic could, and I ducked my head to break our eye contact. Dorian just laughed harder with Varric and Sera joining in. I shook my head knowing how ridiculously scarlet my face, and ears looked without brown hair to hide it, and retreated back to my sanctum to finish breakfast without prying eyes and unwanted questions.

 . . .

 No one intruded on me as I sat in silence at my desk, but Ellana’s presence still lingered from the day before. If I closed my eyes long enough I could see her small fingers glide along the dry sketches outlining the future murals on the rotunda’s walls; that pink smile on full lips bruised from our heavy kissing; mischievous blue eyes – like gems of sapphire – sparkling as she caught the meaning of my words. I relaxed into my high-backed chair soaking in the blissful memories and emotions she arose in me.

It was the soft, thud of leather soles – barely audible thanks to years of agile training – that broke my daydreaming. Before I even turned, I caught the scent of honeyed-tea and cedar warming the cockles of my heart instantly. When I turned, Ellana stood feet from me with her gaze down and wringing her hands in front.

“Sleep well?” I took to my feet and a few steps back. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt my nostrils flare. She was so beautiful, even outside of the Fade.

Kiss her!

No! I hissed back at the Wolf. His mating lust nearly drove sane thoughts from me, and my body trembled.

Ellana didn’t appear to notice, and instead, closed the distance between us with a sultry sway of her hips. “When I asked to talk to you, I didn’t think we’d be doing it in the Fade.” A sly smile drew up her lips. “Or, for that matter, doing it in the Fade.”

A nervous chuckle fled from me, letting loose the twisting knots growing in my stomach. I wish we had…no, no! We can’t lose ourselves to our desires. I can’t…

I forced my hands down to my sides acknowledging the twitch in my fingers to reach out and kiss her breathless. “I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

Please listen to reason, Ellana, you would have no life with me!

Why do you deny yourself, Solas, as if you are not a man who deserves happiness?

This time I ignored the Dread Wolf. He didn’t understand, and that part of me never would.

Ellana laughed, a musical tone, and shook her head. “You say that, but you’re the one who started with tongue.”

Of course she remembers!

“I did not such thing!” I replied too quickly.

Her face lit up and I kicked myself again. “Oh, does it not count if it’s only Fade-Tongue?”

A fierce blush licked up my face as unquenchable flames at her playful inquiry. My body growled with a desperate need to prove to her what Fade-anything really was.

I’m walking a dangerous line.

But I liked it, and loved her. I couldn’t bring myself to voice such poisonous words. They would shatter my control and I would belong to her. Honestly, part of me already did. I sighed and ran a hand along my head.

“It has been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade.” I felt as if I stood on a precipice of unknown origins and outcomes. I wanted to end this, but needed to devour the experience. If we walked together hand in hand, I would destroy everything I loved about my Ellana.

Take that chance, Solas!

Leave me, Wolf! This is my heart!

“I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.” I hedged between what my mind said and my heart cried for. In that moment, I don’t think I could end this blossoming relationship…again.

“I’m willing to take that chance, if you are.” Ellana took another step putting us close enough that her extra heat washed over me and I stifled a groan.

“I…may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are…considerations.” Say yes! By Creators!!

“Take all the time you need.” Ellana purred, her eyes raked over my body like hot coals.

“Thank you.” I choked.

A large smile – the widest I’ve ever seen her make, crinkled up her nose. Her eyes clouded and I got the feeling she considered grabbing me up into another kiss. A real one, this time. I felt myself mentally lean into it, so palpable was my desire for her, but she turned and walked up the staircase to the library. With her gone, I inhaled the fleeting remnants of her intoxicating perfume.

You are an idiot…

Shaking my head, I picked up my towel and headed to the underground hot springs for a much needed bath, and to think.

 . . .

 Though winter was fully on the land, the sun still gave off a small amount of warmth. Walking down the stone steps, I was ambushed by both Cassandra and Vivienne. Determination and hard frowns lined their faces, and their eyes locked onto mine. Stopping feet from the two ladies, I clasped my hands behind my back.

Vivienne’s critical eyes travelled the length of my body, and her lip curled upward. I knew what she thought. Her kind were obvious. A painstakingly plucked eyebrow arched high and her nose wrinkled, all of this in disgust. I was beneath her in every way despite being a mage. Relaxing my shoulders, I allowed an amused smile on my own lips.

“You will need to do something about your clothing, Solas.” Vivienne said, her voice soft and dripping with condemnation.

“Perhaps you and Dorian can work on that.” I replied, delighted to see her delicate features pinch together, sour and livid. It was possible that I was the more tolerable creature to her than the Tevinter, but then again, elves were everywhere in Ferelden, unlike Tevinters.

Cassandra scowled and grunted. “Mages! So much obsession with clothing…how can you even fight over such frivolities.”

“That is an excellent question, Seeker. Perhaps-”

“What is that doing here?” Vivienne remarked jabbing a finger to something behind me.

Turning, I noticed the spirit named Cole. The Fade surrounding him lashed out to coil about the Fade around my being. I smile enjoying the closeness of a creature so similar to myself. The young man was sitting cross-legged next to the stone staircase leading up to the fortress, and pawing at the dirt. He didn’t seem to notice the three of us standing, or if he did, he didn’t care to address us.

“Can’t you see, Madame Vivienne? Or does your pedestal keep you from seeing past your nose? Cole is minding his business as should you in both our cases.” I laughed enjoying the venom my words brought to her. She wasn’t as good at the Game as she thought she was, despite keeping her tone and demeanour collected; I noticed her subtle differences.

“I can see what he’s doing just fine, Solas!” She kept her voice low as she addressed me then lifted the tone so Cassandra could hear as well. “This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ellana stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and cocked her head at our conversation. I focused my thoughts and words toward Vivienne, if only to keep myself from being distracted by the Inquisitor.

“Wouldn’t you say the same of an Apostate?” I pointed out.

Vivienne just gave me a cool, imperious look, while Cassandra turned to address Ellana.

“Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a Mage, given his unusual abilities.”

I decided to jump in. “He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him.” I wanted Ellana to know the truth and understand, before Vivienne influenced the Inquisitor’s mind. “These are not the abilities of a Mage. It seems that Cole is a spirit.”

My body tingled at telling her this. I wanted her to understand, and accept, if only to ease my own apprehensions. Not of Cole, but of the entire Inquisition. If, as I had heard from the others was correct, that Ellana stated the Inquisition was for everyone; I needed to hear for myself that even a creature as unique as Cole was welcomed into this organization.

Vivienne wrapped her arms over her chest and spoke with cold finality. “It is a demon.”

The Dread Wolf growled, and my head began to pound dully.

“If you prefer, although the truth is somewhat more complex.” And neither your heart nor your mind is open enough to accept or entertain such a discussion. Around this woman I would make sure to spoon feed her only the lies a child such as herself would understand – lies that would put her nightmares to a naïve ease.

“Cole warned us about Corypheus at Haven. He saved a lot of lives.”

I turned at that sweet tone and grey eyes met blue. Her compassion warmed me against Vivienne’s ice.

Beside me, Vivienne lashed out bitter at her lack of sway upon the Inquisitor. “And what will its help cost? How many lives will this demon later claim?”

Foolish child…some never learn. I decided, instead, to continue to bring Ellana firmly to my side in regards to Cole. “In fact, his nature is not so easily defined.”

It was Cassandra who stepped in. “Speak plainly, Solas. What are we dealing with?”

Though Cassandra didn’t like Cole either, I could sense a calm aura about her. She wanted to understand before shunning him completely. “Demons normally enter this world by possessing something. In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous.”

And you never forget what a demon looks like for the rest of your lifetime.

“But you claim Cole looks like a young man. Is it possession?” Cassandra asked with natural curiosity behind a callous gaze.

Hers was also a nature I found pleasing, which was probably why I enjoyed our teasing session. This time was no different.

“No. He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects.” The person I needed to convince most though, was the Inquisitor herself.

I took a few steps toward Ellana, trying to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest long enough to speak in a calm rationale. “Cole is unique, Inquisitor. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so.”

Please Ellana…you accepted me. Could I call this the first test in our relationship? Possibly not, since I had yet to give her my answer.

Ellana pursed her lips in a thoughtful expression. “In my studies, demons either possessed something from this world or were summoned and bound. They almost never look like something you’d mistake for a person.”

That’s because your eyes trick you, and either spirit or demon in human form, would be wise enough not to admit what they are in a place full of templars.

“Normally, you would be correct. But Cole has wilfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone.”

She nodded at my statement before continuing. “The demons who came through the Breach, or through the rifts, weren’t possessing anyone.”

I felt my body grow cold and Fen’Harel’s hackles raised at the thought of what Corypheus had done. I think my tone reflected the icy feelings though I couldn’t be too sure. “Those demons were drawn through against their will, driven mad by this world. But Cole predates the Breach. From what we can tell, he has lived here for months, perhaps years.”

Just one more push, I can see her opened mind expanding.

“He looks like a young man. For all intents and purposes, he is a young man. It is remarkable.”

Ellana’s gaze softened and she shifted her weight. “I should hear what Cole has to say for himself. Where is he now?”

“If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere…” Cassandra shifted her eyes with great unease as if she expected the young man to jump out like a viper and gut her.

The Fade crackled and lashed my gaze to the left where I looked off toward the tents were the injured lay. There, walking among them with soundless footsteps, padded Cole. He would occasionally stop and bend down to say a few whispering words to a wounded soldier. Then Ellana slipped passed me, moving with graceful determination to where Cole stood. I smiled, my eyes tracing the curvature of her full hips and round ass once more.

Perhaps there is a small amount of hope yet…

 As I neared the new tavern, I heard the clank of plate armour and turned to see Cassandra jogging to catch up. I dipped my head in polite respect. “Seeker?”

“Solas,” Cassandra puffed out and I slowed for her to catch her breath. “If you do not mind me asking, what do you believe in?”

I suspected she asked this because of how I handled Cole in front of the Inquisitor. Opening the tavern door, I gestured for her to enter before me. “Cause and effect. Wisdom as its own reward, and the inherent right of all free willed people to exist.”

“That is not what I meant.” Cassandra walked passed me with a shake of her head.

I entered after her, listening to the creaking hinges as the door swung close behind us. “I know. I believe the elven gods existed, as did the old gods of Tevinter. But I do not think any of them were gods, unless you expand the definition of the word to the point of absurdity. I appreciate the idea of your Maker, a god that does not need to prove his power. I wish more such gods felt the same.”

Like the Evanuris… and – to that extend – myself. Though I am not a god despite what the Dalish believe!

“You have seen much sadness in your journeys, Solas. Following the Maker might offer some hope.” Cassandra remarked as she followed me up to the bar.

I glanced at her knowing that I couldn’t keep such sadness from the perceptions of those who were keen minded. “I have people, Seeker. The greatest triumph and tragedies this world has known can be traced to people.”

Ordering a drink, I leaned back in the chair and took a long draw, enjoying the prickling warmth that the concoction stirred. “I sense the answer bothers you, Seeker. How many I help ease your concern?”

She took a swig before staring deep into the dark liquid sloshing in her mug. “Just thinking about all the triumphs and tragedies you have seen…and you still believe in people?” My eyes clouded in thought, reliving the world as I saw it; the world I assisted in shaping. “People are flawed, Seeker, but it is within their attempts to change that true beauty is captured. Despite everything I have seen, I find people remarkable.”

Cassandra blinked several times before shaking her head. “Your praise for us is astounding, Solas. Sometimes, I wonder how you truly think.”

“As does your actions astonish me, Seeker. And you are not the first to wish for a glance into my way of thinking. However, I warn you to tread cautiously. To attempt to understand me is to walk a fine line in your beliefs. For I have seen things that could shake the very foundations that your Maker stands on.”

She grimaced. “On second thought, I think I’ll hold off for now.”

A faint smile touched my lips. “That is a wise decision, Seeker.”

We sat in silence for most of the night, drinking and enjoying each other’s company. She wasn’t a terrible woman. In fact, I admired her greatly. She stood firm for what she believed in as I did. It was people like her that I wouldn’t relish in killing, but this was bigger than my wants in life. Cassandra retired before I did, and I nursed my mug until the wee hours into the morning.

My thoughts soon turned to an elegant, raven haired and sapphire blue eyed elven lass. Her skin felt finer than velvet and her fragrance made me ravenous. Lifting my fingers, I ran them over my lips recalling the soft press of hers against mine.

“I cannot deny this want, Lethallan.” I whispered to no one but the Ellana looking back at me in my mind’s eye. “You undo me…”

Finishing off my third…no wait…fourth? Honestly, I lost count after the sixth mug and I frowned at the dregs sloshing in it now.

Time for bed…

Sleep would not come easily, not when all I could do is think of Ellana; her glorious full lips pulled in a welcoming smile, the taste of her skin, the sound of her bell-like laughter…her graceful dance whenever she cast a spell. No matter how wonderful and terrible these feelings were, I couldn’t deny them to myself. For now, however, I would keep them to myself, until such an appropriate time presented itself that I would make them known.

Ar lath ma vhenan, Ellana…