#i imagine solas and sera do not get in at ALL

[surreallyy]

Thinking about how Varric and Solas represent the two sides of Cole...and how that is much that same as Solas and Sera for a Dalish elf inquisitior. Solas representing your elven heritage, your connection to the fade. Sera representing your humanity, your connection to the people around you, the people you need to save. They both see you as being like them in some way but have completely opposite expectations of what that means, and if you lean into your Dalishness you end up disappointing both. Too elfy and never elfy enough.

[vigilskeep]

what’s Bea’s thoughts/relationships with the companions so far? any interesting dynamics?

yeah i’m having a lot of fun w them!!

she gets along well with solas, her chantry opinions sometimes grate but she’s so inquisitive and he loves to explain. he’s so strange to her, she’s never truly talked to a mage before let alone an elf who acts so unlike the elves she’s interacted with. she’s too young and uncertain to mind at all being talked down to a little bit; she sees him as a scholar and wants him to think she’s worthy of holding intellectual conversations with

she thinks varric is an exciting dashing rogue to hang out with because she doesn’t have the context to realise he’s also a nepo baby. she just read the tale of the champion very wide-eyed

she wants cassandra to approve of her so bad. was definitely not lying about not having heard the saving-divine-beatrix-from-dragons story in order to hear it from the woman herself and definitely did not go into an “oh maker i lied to a seeker” panic after

i didn’t expect her to care that much about blackwall but her mother being a warden changes things a lot. microdosing on my absent mother’s approval by having literally any warden say they like me. he makes her feel safe

a bit nervous around the iron bull, they just met and haven’t fought together yet. free marchers and ostwick in particular have a lot of anxiety abt the qunari so i don’t imagine she’s ever heard much good, but as always she’s also painfully curious

suuuuper intimidated by vivienne. very respectful to her

sera is such a shock compared to everything she knows and the way people usually talk in her presence and she’s also pretty and bea is a little uncertain what to do about any of this

was wary of dorian on first meeting but i think she’ll be pretty close with him after the whole in hushed whispers thing, i see that being a strong friendship. which is interesting i don’t normally bring him out much but gay rich kids who love books flock together ig

[chanafehs]

Okay so saw the ask about Cullen and now I have some more questions cause I love hearing people talk about characters they like. Is there any part of his story throughout the series you wish was explored more? And, how do you think his character progresses post Trespasser?

Me when people ask me my thoughts on Cullen

Thank you for the ask Archi! I will try to answer as best I can.

I honestly think his relationships between other characters should’ve been explored wayyyy more. One of the downsides of having a character be essentially benched at skyhold or haven for most of the game is that you hardly ever see them interact with other characters. The war table banter is one of my favorite parts of the game because you get to hear Leliana Josie and Cullen all tease each other like siblings - imagine if Cullen had been a companion!

If Solas and Bull were in your party with him, maybe there could’ve even been dialogue with Cullen remarking how either Solas or Bull was going to win with their mental chess game? Sera teasing Cullen? Dorian picking his brain about the Templar order? Vivienne asking about his time in the circle? Blackwall and Cullen exchanging about how they are leashed to duty? Cole sensing Cullen’s thoughts during difficult demon oriented missions? Varric asking Cullen about his hobbies (or lack thereof)? Cassandra and Cullen telling stories about the champion of Kirkwall? Like there is so much we missed out on in regards to Cullen’s relationships with others.

I think the reason why his romance does a lot of credit to his character and makes him feel more fleshed out is because being an advisor doesn’t allow him to get that with other companions. I would’ve chopped off my left hand to have Cullen as a companion during the mage or Templar quest just GAH i think BioWare in a way underestimated how interesting he is as a character.

As for post trespasser:

I think a lot of people disagree with how his redemption arc went in game (I don’t agree with them but that’s besides the point) but I think him having the Templar sanctuary is a good bow to wrap up his arc. Helping Templars leave the order when they feel like they have no other choice is a fitting end to his story across all three games, you have the chantry turning them into mindless zombies through lyrium and Cullen offers a way to break the leash, something he worked towards throughout all of dai. I think he becomes more human, more like himself from before - you could say he went full circle :)

As for romanced Cullen I think he becomes a dad (or a really good uncle) because I am a girl dad Cullen propagandist and him trying to use the commander voice on children who will not listen is funny. I also make him join clan lavellan because I don’t agree with the idea half the fandom has that lavellan doesn’t return to their clan, let us go home!

So yeah these are my thoughts and I hope they made just a little bit of sense sjks thank you!

[daitranscripts]

Vivienne Conversation: High Approval

Let's Talk About Our Friends

Vivienne Masterpost

PC: What are your thoughts on the others in the Inquisition?

Dialogue options:

Dorian [1]

Blackwall [2]

Sera [3]

Cole[4]

Varric [5]

Solas [6]

Cassandra [7]

1 - Dorian:

Not romanced Vivienne: Our dear Lord Dorian is very sure of himself, isn’t he? Let’s hope he doesn’t get his confidence crushed.

Romanced

Vivienne: You of course mean to speak of your Tevinter paramour. I doubt I can be impartial about him. I have been a Circle mage far too long… But he does have a great sense of fashion. I’ll give him that.

Vivienne: You of course mean to speak of your Tevinter paramour. I admit he’s quite charming. I can see how he’s stolen your heart. f0c67cf0-162a-491b-9407-2afbb0200190 [Not sure of the exact trigger on this one]

Vivienne (post-breakup): You want to talk about dear Lord Dorian. You can admit it, darling. I’d heard that you were no longer keeping his company. I do hope everything is all right.

2 - Blackwall

Not romanced, personal quest not started Vivienne: Blackwall is a useful sort of fellow, but he’s perhaps too eager to please. He reminds me of a pup begging for attention.

Romanced, personal quest not-started Vivienne: You seem quite fond of our Warden, Blackwall. I think it’s charming.

Romanced, personal quest started Vivienne: I know you were attached to him, my dear. Perhaps his absence will set your mind at ease.

Post-Revelations, not romanced Vivienne: Blackwall surprised me. I never would have thought him capable of carrying off such deception.

Vivienne (left in prison): He was tolerably useful, but I’m sure we can find someone else to poke things to death.

Vivienne (given to the Wardens): Generous, you giving him a chance at redemption. Let’s see if he manages it.

Vivienne (freed to atone): You were quite forgiving. I hope he fares better as a Rainier than a Blackwall.

Vivienne (imprisoned): A bit dangerous, though, continuing this Warden charade. Let us hope nothing further comes of it.

Post-Revelations, romanced Vivienne: Blackwall surprised me. I never would have thought him capable of carrying off such deception.

Given to the Wardens

Vivienne (broke up during judgement): His betrayal must have stung. It’s very generous of you, giving him a chance to redeem himself.

Vivienne: He is an extremely fortunate man to remain in your good graces after such a lie. I hope he will do well.

Freed to atone

Vivienne (broke up during judgement): You were very kind to him, however horribly he betrayed your trust.

Vivienne: He’s a lucky man. Few women would have forgiven such a lie. Let’s hope he lives up to your faith in him.

Imprisoned

Vivienne: Be careful, my dear. Men are simple creatures. Resentment in his present circumstance could become an issue.

3 - Sera:

Vivienne: Sera I certainly a colorful character. Like a poisonous toad, only without the manners.

Romanced

Vivienne: I would never criticize your choice in paramours, my dear. I’m sure Sera’s affection for you is genuine. She’s nowhere near clever enough to be after you for your wealth or position, so it must be true love.

Vivienne (after break-up): I understand that you and Sera are no longer a couple. Don’t worry, my dear. You can do so much better.

4 - Cole:

Vivienne: Whether Cole is a spirit or a demon is irrelevant. Neither can be trusted, my dear. Remember that.

5 - Varric:

Vivienne: What exactly is Varric’s role in the Inquisition? Aside from irritating Cassandra?

Vivienne: So Varric was spying on us all this time? I’m impressed. I never would have taken him for a player of the Game. I’ll have to watch him more closely from now on. fae0e7ba-1667-413b-9680-10ea0a6f0165 [I can’t find the plot flag for this?]

6 - Solas:

Vivienne: I don’t know what to make of Solas. So much knowledge and so little personal history… I find that… peculiar. Don’t you?

Romanced. Vivienne: Is it my imagination, dear, or have certain… lingering looks passed between you and our Solas?

After Solas has left. Vivienne: It’s strange not having Solas hanging about looking smug. I wonder where he’s gone.

7 - Cassandra:

Vivienne: I admire Cassandra’s determination. If she had a little charm, she could be a remarkable leader.

Romanced Vivienne: My dear, if you want to talk about Cassandra, just say so. I see how you dote upon her. You’re a fetching couple, you know. Or you would be if Cassandra ever smiled.

[wootensmith]

Teeth

(the version where she's angry with him. Is it long? yes. Should it be longer? probably also yes)

The anchor was a physical pulse against his skin, even miles from her. They’d been slogging through the desolate ruby wastes for days before he felt it wash over him. He had expressly avoided asking his companions about the former Inquisitor, though Varric had hinted that she had been kept informed of Solas’s movements in particular and the Veilguard’s generally. Solas had taken it as a warning. That she chose not to intervene. That she had at last abandoned him to his fate after a decade of chasing. He told himself it was for the best. He failed to convince himself more often than not, but he did not truly have the time or liberty to alter what was.

It had taken far too long to ready himself, to ready Rook and the others to face the Evanuris. If he had known what the Inquisitor was truly doing in order to buy them that time— well, he could hardly panic more than he already had. Once they had prepared, it was relatively simple to follow the thickening trails of Blighted creatures and land to their source. At least until the remaining life in the region was simply swallowed by it. Solas had no doubt that a sea of darkspawn lay ahead, but for now, at least, they were alone in the bleak and barren mountains. Except for that familiar pulse.

“Do you feel that?” he’d asked Varric, hours before they reached her. Varric paused to catch his breath, thought for a moment. “What? The red lyrium? Are you already hearing it?” he asked. “No, it’s something else. It feels like— the anchor.” Varric’s expression shifted, closed off immediately. “Don’t feel anything, Chuckles. Maybe it’s just nerves.” The others had noticed their pause and called back to them. He waved to indicate he and Solas were coming.

“Where is she, Varric?” he asked, already knowing he’d get no answer. Varric started walking again. “I don’t know,” he said, and nothing more. “What is she doing?” Solas persisted, dread creeping in as surely as the anchor’s pulse became more certain. “I imagine the same thing we are.” “I’m not going to harm her—” “More.” The word bristled. He wanted to protest. Varric expected a protest, was spoiling for an argument. But Solas knew better. “Yes,” he agreed quietly, “More. But if it is the anchor and I can persuade her to—” “I don’t know, and that’s the truth,” Varric admitted reluctantly. “She knows about us, but it’s not reciprocal. That was on purpose. Last I saw her, she said she was traveling to warn the other clans. To try and prepare them. Whatever you were doing was— changing things. You already know about Harding— there’ve been hundreds of others. Sera was a basket case when she accidentally lit a few of her arrows on fire. The Inquisitor helped her with controlling it. That’s what Sera says anyway. And they realized there’d be more like her. If she could convince the Keepers to begin training and to get ready for whatever consequences your ritual would bring if we failed to stop you— didn’t expect it all to go this wrong. That’s all I know.”

They trudged in silence for a while.  “If it makes you feel any better, Chuckles,” Varric said suddenly, “I really don’t feel anything. But I’m not shooting lightning bolts from my fingertips either, so maybe I wouldn’t.” He glanced up at Solas. “But if you want to know what I really think— I don’t think you feel it either. You just really miss her.” “I hope you are right,” said Solas, and left it at that, though the anchor’s pulse became stronger and steadier as they walked until he was certain he’d see her just over the next rise of broken boulders and crimson lyrium crystals.

It wasn’t until the bleeding horizon became subtly tinged with a green glow that Varric said, “I feel it now, Solas.” He said it quietly, as if it would alarm the others. As if he, himself, were alarmed. Still, Solas doubted himself. “Did you, before? During our journeys together? Could you feel the anchor? Perhaps it’s only a powerful spell and I mistake—” “It’s the anchor,” said Varric, his expression grim, “Unless there’s something else like it. Couldn’t ever feel it like you probably could but when she’d do that… thing, it felt like this. You know, when everything would slow down except us and it felt like a narrow sphere or bubble where the world just— stopped breathing. Felt like this.” Solas was quiet for another minute, climbing the slope behind Rook.

“Why would she come here?” Solas asked. “The only people we have seen were days ago and they were fleeing. There cannot be clans here.” “Maybe she stopped doing that. I mean, what’s the point in preparing them when the worst has already happened?” “You’ve truly heard nothing since the ritual? If hiding her activity from me were the purpose of your one way communication, surely my imprisonment would have alleviated the need for that.” “Shit, Chuckles, the end of the ritual would have made it pointless, regardless of how it turned out. No, she’s been quiet. I’ve been trying. She didn’t want to be found or— look: Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are gods aren’t they?” “They aren’t, as you well know,” snapped Solas. Varric held up his hands to calm him down. “I know that’s what you say, and for my part, I believe you. But the Dalish had generations of people teaching them that these are their creators. You don’t just forget that because someone you like tells you so.” Solas shook his head. “No, we discussed it, more than once. By the time all was said and done, she was convinced. And after what’s been done, I cannot think she’d still believe—” “I wasn’t talking about the Inquisitor believing you, Solas. I was talking about the Dalish believing her. Maybe she’s here because the clans are here. Maybe she’s still trying to convince them. Or maybe she has convinced them and they’re trying to do the same thing we are.”

Solas sighed. “I wished to give her a peaceful existence after the Inquisition. Not this.” Varric stopped to wipe his face and drank from his waterskin. “Yeah, well, once you start trying to save the world, I don’t think you ever stop,” he said, passing the skin to Solas, “I mean, look at us. I should be writing a novel or dodging the merchant’s guild. And she should be redecorating Skyhold or torturing nobles with Sera. And you should be… I don’t know, sleeping or something. But here we all are. Maybe.” He squinted at the green light leaking into the horizon. “I guess we’ll see. No idea how far away that light is, but I’d assume we get to it before nightfall.”

They heard her before she came into view, however. Solas could feel not only the thrum of the anchor by that point, but also the frisson of a powerful spell both familiar and exponentially larger than he remembered from her. The emerald of the anchor had long ago pushed back all the wine-red of the sky, banished the Blight’s dark signature and replaced it.  “—implore you not to do this—” her voice threaded in and out of the breeze, raw and exhausted and faint, but undeniably the Inquisitor.  Solas scrambled up the last ridge, the others struggling to keep up.

“We are kin, lethallen. What would it profit me to lead you astray?”  The stamp and clatter of hundreds of feet threaded through her words, slightly more distant but undeniable. Solas emerged at the top of the ridge. Just below on the edge of the plateau marched thousands of elves. An enormous green barrier straddled most of the plateau and the Inquisitor shone like a sun inside its center, her lone arm raised and shaking with the effort of maintaining the spell. A much smaller group stood inside the barrier but did not move. Those outside simply marched toward the sphere of her spell.

  “Shit,” muttered Varric as he reached Solas and stared down at her barrier.  “Sathan, listen. They are not what they seem,” she called. “She sounds— tired,” said Varric. Solas descended down onto the plateau. “Would you slaughter your own family to satisfy those who care nothing for you?”  Solas began pushing through the crowd to get closer, to see who stood with her, why they said nothing even as her voice began to give out. He had assumed it was clan Lavellan, content to stand bodily in the way of the others but not willing to fight. But as he drew closer, he heard her call her own Keeper. 

“Deshanna, you know that they are not gods. You know I do not lie. Turn back, please. Please, Hahren, do not let our brothers and sisters throw away their lives.” A small break in the groups of elves allowed Solas to dart through to the edge of her barrier. The power from her spell was almost painful, pouring even beyond the barrier, pushing, pushing the others backward, but not enough to contain them. He knew he could break through if he forced it, but he did not wish to risk harming her when the spell collapsed. He waited beyond the barrier and watched Deshanna, bent like a wind-blown pine hobble toward the Inquisitor. She, too, stayed beyond the barrier.

“I believe you, da’len,” she said slowly. “And I also know that it doesn’t matter that I do. Whether we worship them or not, they still have the strength to wipe us all away.  Pretenders they may be, but we cannot fight them. Come with us, do not stand against your people.” “You can fight them. We can fight them. Tell them, Abelas, tell them the Evanuris are not invulnerable.” Solas glanced at the others inside the barrier. Abelas and Mythal’s remaining sentinels were indeed among her forces. Hundreds of unmarked elves as well. Even Sera. He even recognized his own agents sprinkled in. It was as Varric had feared. She was trying desperately to stop the Dalish from joining Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. And failing, if the expressions of the others were any indication.

“I have told them, lethallan. As have we all. If they will not listen to you, who has already defeated a would-be god, why would they hear me?” Abelas’s face was twisted into a furious scowl at the Dalish closing in on them. “The whole world will fight against you, Keeper,” cried the Inquisitor. “And the Blight will take you. Stay with us, let us stand together. Let us protect the little ones at least. Do not do this, I beg you.” Her voice gave out at last, the end of her words little more than a rasping breeze. Deshanna sadly shook her head. “There is nowhere to stand, da’len. There is no protection for any of us. The others go because they believe their Creators have called them, no matter what you or I may say. And I go with them because I would not spend my last hours parted from those I love. It is the only choice we have left. God or man, Elgar’nan will find us, should we disobey. And he will sear us from the land. If we go to him, you are the only threat remaining to us. And your love will stop you from harming us. This, I know. There is still time, fanor, but you are lost to your grief. I hope you will find your way back to us again. I will ink your vallaslin on that day with my own hand. Dareth shiral, da’len.”

Deshanna hobbled around the edge of the barrier and the Inquisitor began to weep. “Don’t do that,” said Sera softly, hugging her shoulders. “Don’t, Buckles. We tried. Can’t help them if they won’t listen. And even you can’t scare ‘em more than those enormous elfy bastards do.” She can’t, but I can, Solas realized. He stretched and bristled, ignoring the horrified cries of Varric and Rook behind him. The Inquisitor’s barrier rapidly shrunk beneath him, his muzzle rising skyward. An intense growl rippled from him ricocheting in booming echoes from the ring of mountain that surrounded the plateau. The elves below shrieked and scattered. All except the tiny figures inside the Inquisitor’s emerald shield. They remained motionless.

Solas’s hackles spiked and sparked and he hunched forward, shielding the Inquisitor’s forces with his massive head. “Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain care nothing for scurrying rodents.” His words thundered and rattled the very stones. “But I delight in hunting ignorant rabbits,” he snarled. He took a few bounding steps forward, careful to avoid trampling anyone too slow to flee his path. “Fly!” he commanded, “And never return. For I have your scent. If you betray me, I shall stalk you to the end of the world. Not even a god will save you.”  He waited, chest heaving, jaws dripping, as the remaining elves retreated as quickly as they could. He expected some resistance, some foolhardy would-be hero to poke his foot, climb his tail, stand defiant before him, but after a few moments, none remained to challenge him. This is not an army, he reminded himself, those trained in combat are my own allies or went to the Evanuris long ago. These are just families driven by fear. Clans desperate to please those they’ve been taught gave them life and purpose. He let the wolf dwindle away. He felt suddenly too small. Smaller even than the elves who had dashed from his sight. And chilled to the bone. He turned, seeking his people and the Inquisitor. Her barrier was gone and with it, the light of the anchor, though he felt it still, drumming steadily against his skin like a second heart. 

One of his agents ran toward him. “Apologies, Ser,” she gasped as she reached him. “We— we lost contact and assumed… the former Inquisitor approached us soon after and persuaded some of us that— well, that our goals aligned, at least for the time. Until you would return, some chose to follow her. If we’d known you—” “How many does she have under her banner?” he interrupted, half brushing past the agent to return to the others. “I am uncertain. We work in cells. I thought— I thought it was something you had taught her. I have seen several hundred in our attempt to dissuade the Dalish from joining the Evanuris, but I have no doubt there are more. Those are only the cells she visited personally. They are positioned all along this ridge. If you need positions I can—” He clasped the agent’s shoulder. “That may be useful later. But you have done well,” he said. He headed for the Inquisitor before he could be further delayed. Several of his own people took rapid steps back as he approached and even Abelas and his sentinels gave way without comment. Solas regretted their apparent fear. Worse, the Inquisitor was visibly shaking as he reached her. He thought, for a moment, that she too, was terrified. Sera scowled when she caught sight of him and her hand clutched the pommel of a dagger. 

“You told me once that no real god need prove himself,” the Inquisitor said when she saw him. But she did not stop trembling. He hesitated, thinking he had miscalculated, that she quaked not from fear but rage. “I am no god and it looked as if they needed proof.” It won him a crooked smile and he clung to it. “Thank you for— the demonstration,” she said. “We have been trying for weeks to turn them back. I feared it would come to violence here at the last. Your display has bought us time at least.” “They will return,” said Abelas. “We will not be able to dissuade them with words and shadows next time, lethallan.” “I know. That is why this must end before they gather their courage again. We must press forward to the true battle.”  “Not until you’ve had a rest. Shake yourself to pieces before we get over the ridge, Buckles,” said Sera, letting go of her dagger’s hilt to grab the Inquisitor’s elbow to steady her.  “Just need a minute. And a lyrium potion,” said the Inquisitor. “Now is the time to press—” “Then let him do it. His mess anyway,” snapped Sera, glaring at Solas. “If he’s even on our side, that is.” “He is. For now,” said Rook. Varric hurried to introduce her to the Inquisitor. 

Solas took a step back, expecting to melt back into the others for the time being while the Inquisitor spoke to Rook. It would give him a chance to gather information from—  “Not as slick as you think, Droopy,” Sera hissed into his ear as she slipped behind him, hard metal touching just above his hip. “Do you truly think a dagger would stop me if I wished to escape?” “You think your growl’s going to stop me from trying? Faster on the draw than Varric, anyway. And he’s managed you just fine, looks like.” “I am where I wished most to be, Sera. And it seems we are all headed to where I am most needed. Save your dagger for Ghilan’nain and I will save my growls for Elgar’nan.” There was no time for more. The crowd around them was rapidly dispersing. The Inquisitor followed Abelas toward the ridge. Her steps were unsteady, faltering.

“Oh no, Buckles,” Sera said. “Where are you going?” “We need to gather the others. We need to buy the Veilguard some time.” She didn’t even turn to look back at them, staggering after Mythal’s sentinels who had already far outpaced her. “Then let me go, Vhenan,” he called after her. She stopped, even as Sera protested. “Oh no, Droopy. You aren’t leaving our sight. You’d make em all run or turn em to stone or summat.” “You’ve had my own agents among you all this time,” he said calmly. “I didn’t need to wait until now to betray you.” “Pfft. Already knew about them. They came to us. After you locked yourself in your own dungeon. Arse. Yeah, Varric told us about that. Told you, your growls don’t scare me. Buckles either.” He saw the Inquisitor’s shoulders rise in a sigh and then fall heavily again and she started trudging forward.  “If you will not let me go in your stead, then let your people. They will reach your other groups with more speed and you are exhausted. It’ll do no good to—” “And who’s fault is that, hmm? She wouldn’t have been holding up your snot-bubble anchor if you’d been—” “Sera—” called Varric. Solas rounded on her. “I was— am trying to aid you. None of this has gone as planned, but even so, I take responsibility for my part. If it makes you feel better to cast me again as the Great Adversary, then by all means—” “Enough!” cried the Inquisitor and she stopped, turned back to them. “If we do not stop the Evanuris and soon, then they will take everyone I’ve ever loved. I will die fighting my own people, regardless of the outcome. I cannot wait while you finish your squabbling. Either help me or leave me the few moments of peace that are left.”

Sera backed off immediately, surprising Solas. “Right. Sorry Buckles. Want you to rest is all. You shouldn’t be here. All of this is— wrong.”  “I know. I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this.” “None of that. Just— just sit down, yeah? Before you fall apart at the bendy bits.”  “There’s no time. You know where we are bound. I am, indeed, already far too slow.” Sera glanced at Solas and then quickly away. “I’ll go, then. If somebody’s got to. Should be me, I know where they are and can direct the messengers. No reason for you to wear out the mountains going back and forth. But you don’t do this without me, right? And you rest. No matter what— anyone says. Promise.”  The Inquisitor nodded in obvious relief. “I promise, lethallan. I will take care. Varric will force me to in your stead.”

Sera nodded then leaned toward Solas and hissed in a low voice, “You breathe on her wrong and I’ll—” “Please, Sera,” the Inquisitor begged, her voice distressed enough that Varric hurried toward her. “I know, Buckles,” said Sera. “Don’t worry, we’ll all be right behind you.” Sera walked past her and squeezed her shoulder before breaking into a sprint. The Inquisitor turned to Solas. “And you. You scorn your title, your role as our ‘Great Adversary’ but that is exactly who we needed these past months. Years. Lifetimes. We needed someone to oppose the Evanuris. We needed Fen’harel. We begged— I begged you to help and all that met me was silence. You at least left me with some— particle of truth so I didn’t join my clan when they heard Elgar’nan’s call. What hope did any of the others have? There was no one to tell them he was a lie. That all of their prayers and offerings were— were dross. That everything he is promising them is only an illusion covering ruin.” She swiped at her eyes and her expression hardened into a bitter frown. “In all those long centuries of silence, from you, from them, there’ve been no answers. And now there’s only me. So put it aside, then, this title you hate. I will be the Great Adversary instead. I will fight them to save them from Elgar’nan. From the Blight. You can sleep again. Go. Return to your silence and your Fade and your true Elvehn.” 

“I’ve tried. I tried to bring them the truth,” he cried, crushed by the dismissal. He tried to ignore the way Varric flinched at his tone. “When? You’ve had millennia, Solas. You sealed them away and had thousands of years to expose the truth. None of the Evanuris were free to oppose you.” “It took more effort than you realize to keep them contained. Regaining my strength cost many centuries.” “You wander the Fade. You touch the dreams of others. You could have—” “Yes. Many, many dreams. Those who believed them on waking were called mad or fool, just as I was. You have seen the handful who believed me. They’re already with you. Who else should I have told? What else could I have done?” “And what is it you told that handful? The same tiny portion you told me? Something more? You think I just accepted the agents of Fen’harel without asking them what they knew of you? Or do you think I didn’t take your warning when last I saw you? That I just accept whoever wanders into my path? I’ve asked, Solas. I’ve struggled to find what I could for a decade. You’ve told none of us the whole truth. I don’t know if you’re so worried about betrayal that you can’t even warn us, or if you’re truly indifferent to our fates. If it were betrayal— haven’t we proven true yet? The Inquisition at least? You let Corypheus take your power, sear this thing into me and we didn’t betray you then. I didn’t go home as soon as Cassandra took the shackles off because I was needed. And neither did any of the others once the Breach was closed. And we didn’t try to seize that power or make deals with Corypheus or turn against you. None of us. And still you… it must be indifference. This time, with Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, it must be that you still do not think we’re real. Or that you have only contempt for us. I even asked you directly, last time that we met. After everything. I asked you how you intended to deal with the Evanuris and you assured me you had plans to thwart them. And here we are. This is worse than just allowing them to enslave us. To consume us. Because now we will slaughter each other in their names. And you couldn’t even spare a word in warning before loosing them upon us.”

Rook cleared her throat. “To be fair,” she said, though Varric vehemently shook his head in warning, “I had an accidental hand in thi—” “Ir abelas,” Solas interrupted, because in his heart he knew it did not matter that Rook’s mistake had resulted in his plans going awry. This was, indeed, his own doing. “This is not what I intended. Tel’nan em.” There was nothing else to say. No other plea he could make. “I wish I could, Vhenan,” the Inquisitor said. “If I hated you, this would hurt far less than it does.” That was all. Just that acknowledgment as if she were utterly defeated. And then she turned to Varric. “May I borrow your shoulder, falon?” she asked him.  “Always,” said Varric, wrapping an arm around her back to support her. “Just for a moment,” she said, walking them slowly back down the slope toward Solas. “I know you and Rook have your own strategy. I’ll let you go in a moment.” “Think we’ve got a ways to go before any strategies kick in, Herald,” said Varric. “And you know as long as I’ve got an arm free to fire I’d give you the other.” Varric caught Solas’s eye as they passed and seemed troubled, but Solas let them go. Followed in her wake as the rest of the Veilguard went ahead of her. His chest ached, but he had no answer for her. For himself.

She was quiet. Varric too. Though the others relaxed into their normal patterns, the three of them did not. Solas was aware that she was slowing as well, dragging herself along with the help of Varric but not recovering in any meaningful way. He tried not to overtake them, wanting there to be some semblance of rearguard, but it was inevitable. “We need to find a place to camp, Herald,” said Varric at last. “No. The people you saw were not the first. There are clans ahead of us. If we don’t intercept them—” “We cannot outstrip them at this pace, my love,” said Solas gently. She seemed to have forgotten he was there, startling slightly. She let Varric go, struggled to stand upright. “Then do not wait for me. You go on, you will make better time than I.” “No, now, you promised Sera,” said Varric. “So let’s find somewhere to camp. These clans that are ahead of us, they’re mortal too, right? They’ll find places to rest.” She started to protest.

“No single person can halt an army,” said Solas. “Ir abelas. I know it is the wrong thing to say, but I can think of nothing elegant just now. If we pushed forward to the end, what could you say when you arrived? What could you do that you did not try back on the plateau?” She hesitated. “That was not meant as a challenge,” he said and held out his hand to her. An offer. A hope. “I understand the urgency but this exhaustion and pain is unnecessary. I have made this mistake a thousand times over. Please, Vhenan, take the lesson I could never learn. Let your allies help you.” “But the clans who join the Evanuris in the meantime will die.” “No—” started Varric. “Vin. They will die,” interrupted Solas. It did no good to lie to her. “And if we continue rushing recklessly in to stop them, then all the clans who have not yet arrived will also die because we will not be there to save them either. All that will change this fate is the end of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain. You cannot face them like this. I cannot face them like this.”  Please, he willed her but kept it trapped behind his lips. He held his breath as she finally reached for his outstretched hand. Varric barely waited for her hand to close around Solas’s.

“I’ll find the others. Hopefully they’ve found a cave or someplace out of this… lyrium trash,” he said, kicking a small red crystal nearby. He jogged off before the Inquisitor could protest. Solas doubted she would have. Her hand still shook even hours after her barrier had collapsed, though he knew it now as exhaustion instead of terror or anger.  “Lean on me, emma lath,” he told her, “There is no one watching but me and we are both too tired of pretending at strength.” She did, letting him pull her along for a minute, her shoulder and hip pressed against his.  “Do you ever feel,” she asked suddenly, “that if you give in, if you sit for a moment, let the mask fall in the quiet when nobody is there, that when it is time to get up again, you will find your legs betray you?” He stopped their movement. Brushed the dust caked hair from her face and pressed a kiss into her temple. “Vin,” he said. She did not flinch or pull away and he slid his arm around her fully and half-carried her over the next ridge. 

“I did not keep back the truth because I did not care about your fate. I am ashamed that I cannot claim to never have had contempt for the Dalish. For- for you. But that feeling withered long ago. When I met you,” he said, pausing until they could catch sight of the others ahead.  “So betrayal then. Yet here I am, standing in your stead as best I can. All these years and you still thought I would turn on you. That does not soothe me—” “No,” he said, curling his hand a little tigher around her. “I do not believe you would betray me. I feared— I feared that I would betray myself. It would have been so easy to walk away from—” he waved toward the cluster of red lyrium crowning a small clump of boulders. “If I had told you all, I would have allowed myself to be persuaded to abandon my plans. I could not. I realize, in light of all that’s gone wrong, that it seems the wiser course but it is not so. Whatever you think of me, Vhenan, I cannot bear for you to doubt yourself.  You are beloved. If it were truly my choice alone— if this world were mine to give to you, to abandon for you, I would have done so ages ago. It is only now, when I no longer have the means to turn aside, that I can tell you.”

“I would not have asked for the world, Solas, only the truth.” “I know. And yet, if I had held more of the truth back, perhaps you would not be here now.” “I would be. I’d just be marching with my clan to Elgar’nan’s side. A few days from becoming a shriek.” Her voice broke and she sagged, releasing him to slide down onto the stony ground. He followed her, kneeling beside her.  “Ane vindhru. Lanaste. Alas, I cannot undo what has passed.” “Then what has this all been for?” she cried. “If that was not your aim, why are we here, emma lath?” The dry wind blew scarlet dust across the rocks. Varric was a small shadow beyond them and the rest of Rook’s party a cluster of shadow melting into the craggy outcrops farther up the mountain. Solas wished he had a decent answer. “I asked you once, what you would do if you found that the future you had created was worse than what came before. You said you would keep trying to fix it. I cannot undo what I have done, but if I can ameliorate the consequences— If I can make what is to come easier, kinder, less horrendous, then I am obligated to try.”

She raised her hand to his cheek, at last touching him, at last reaching to comfort him. “The mistake was not in trying, fanor. The mistake was insisting on doing it alone.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “I know. Forgive me, forgive me, Vhenan.” “Ir abelas,” she said, wiping tears from his cheek, “Forgiveness is not mine to give or withhold. I am just one person in all this.” “I know. I do not ask you to forgive me for the state of the world, but for the wrongs I have done you, my love. For— for the anchor. For the omissions. The silence.”

“The truth then, from here on, promise me.” “Vin.”  “We are going to our deaths, aren’t we?” she asked very quietly.  “It is likely.”  “But what we do— it can save the others? Our people? Our friends? All the innocents who remain?” He wanted to answer easily, to affirm everything she desperately wanted. But it was not the truth. “I hope that it will. I wish that I could promise it, but I cannot.” She let out a shaky breath between them, her thumb smoothing his cheek gently. “Whatever the outcome, we go together. Swear to it.” “Yes, this too.” She leaned back slightly, grasped his jaw and stared intently at him. “Then find your teeth, Dread Wolf. I cannot defeat them alone.”

He clasped her arm where it ended and the anchor flared and bathed them in a halo of green light. “It was never my teeth that were lacking. There are times—” He paused, took a shuddering breath. “There are times I feared all that remained of me was teeth and rage and cruelty. It was my heart that was lost. But I have found her again. If she can forgive my carelessness in misplacing her. If she will take me.” Her hand loosened around his chin and she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I leave forgiveness to the world, my love. But you, Solas, I take for myself, teeth and all,” she said.

[fatale-distraction]

Lavellan's New Lighthouse

We're crack posting today, folks. Here's how I imagine my Lavellan's first time entering The Lighthouse.

Ellana turned in place in the center of the Lighthouse, taking in the solitary, gilded prison Solas had built for himself. A table set for one, with a single plate, a single glass, a single fork and knife. Not a single chair had a mate. A chesterfield near the bookshelves: alone; dining chair: alone; lounge chair at the window: alone. 

She moved to a small hearth where a lonely, disused kettle sat and picked it up, running her fingers over the black iron. Moving with a sudden determination, she filled the kettle with water and set it back on the hearth. She fished a flint from her pocket and struck up a fire beneath the kettle, then strode purposefully to her pack. It took her seconds to locate a half-used brick of tea leaves. It was her very favorite kind; fragrant, dark, and strong. If left too long, it stained whatever unfortunate vessel held it irreparably. 

Ellana dumped the whole thing in the kettle and slammed the lid back down.

Varric watched with an uneasy feeling as the former Inquisitor began rummaging. She collected every single object that could reasonably or unreasonably be made to hold liquid and set them out on the lonely dining table with exquisite care. Ever-blooming flowers from a vase went into the fire and the vase to the table. A golden ewer for bathing joined it. A bowl of incense ash was dumped over the bed and arranged with its brethren. A hunk of soap was flung out the window, its dish placed on the table. She even dropped to her stomach and pulled the mercifully empty chamber pot from beneath the bed.

The kettle was screeching, lid rattling. Ellana took a pot holder from a hook and retrieved it.

And then she poured.

Each and every vessel was filled with meticulously portioned tea the color and approximate viscosity of darkspawn sludge. 

“What is she doing?” Rook whispered too loudly.

“He abhors tea,” replied Varric.

“Oh,” said Rook.

“Oh.” Bellara paled. “Oh boy.”

“Is...anyone going to stop her?”

“Be my guest,” Varric gestured to Rook grandly as Ellana made a point of setting the now empty kettle in the exact center of the table. The smell of singed wood began to permeate the air as the still-hot iron began burning a circle in the table.

“Uhh...”

Now humming a merry tune that sounded suspiciously like “Sera was Never,” Ellana moved on to her next target. She yanked open a set of drawers and dug a pair of sharp scissors from the pouch at her belt. Out came every single pair of small clothes, split up the back side with the scissors and dropped ceremoniously on the floor.

“Maybe I’ll wait until she’s done with the scissors.”

The sound of fabric rending made all of them cringe as she moved onto pants. Socks had holes snipped in the toes. Shirts sliced from neck to hem. All to the rhythm of the jaunty song. Then Ellana moved onto the pillows on the bed, dumping feather stuffing on the floor. She returned to the kettle and scooped out fistfuls of the wet tea leaves and began restuffing the pillows.

“Okay, alright,” Varric said finally. “That’s enough. Now you’re just being mean.”

“Get away from me—don’t touch--...”

Ellana was quite short, even for an elf. She didn’t stand all that much taller than the dwarf. So, it wasn’t terribly hard for him to cram his shoulder into her stomach, heave the flailing, spitting, shrieking elf up with one arm pinning her legs to his chest, and plop her into the chair next to the bookshelves like a naughty child. He even kicked it around to face the corner.

The Veilguard watched this interaction with stunned awe. The Inquisitor, savior of Thedas, crossed her arms and pouted as a soggy, tea-filled pillow dripped noisily on the floor of an ancient elven god. Varric rubbed his temples. 

“I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered as Ellana began systemically turning every single book on the shelf in front of her upside down, rifling through the pages and tossing out any bookmarks she found.

Neve made a noise in the back of her throat. “Those could be clues...” 

Bellara put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head gravely. There was a horrific rend of paper and a page disappeared into Ellana’s mouth where it was chewed to a pulp and spat back into the book. She slammed the cover shut and crammed the volume back into the wrong spot, upside down, pages facing out. Neve ground her teeth together.

“She’s a monster...” lamented Emmrich.

Varric shook his head. “Sera’d be so proud.”

Ellana’s last act of terror occurred when she located a partially darned sock and began serenely picking out every single stitch and unravelling the whole thing bit by bit. 

“You done?”

“I’m going to knit a giant middle finger using the yarn from all his sweaters and socks. And then I will be done.”

“Okay, Violet.”

“And then,” she went on. “I will be inviting my sister here.”

Harding and Varric exchanged deeply troubled glances.

“El, we were gonna use this place as a base of operations...” started Lace.

“And my sister is going to use it as a litter box.”

@erehttuoliveeht

Also check this out on AO3 as part of a new collection of stupid shit I write about DA4

[zundely]

Playing DAI again and I have some thoughts about the Varric/Solas banter. Those aren't entirely nice thoughts however so so be warned if you don't like hearing negative takes about DAI, which is totally cool btw, this is what is coming under the cut.

So what I feel like most often gets praised about the banter between Varric and Solas is that they perfectly encapsulate their opposing wirldviews. Varric who embraces change vs Solas who can't let go of the past. And I do get that. I think the old man on the island part is great.

What is not so great is... a lot of their banter leading up to that part. I am not a fan of Solas asking questions about dwarves, dwarven culture- some of which I would love to get an actual answer to- and Varric just shrugging and going "Dunno don't care, all the dwarves that care are stuck up pricks" and then Solas marveling at him being not like other dwarves.

And the thing is- that is kind of the point like, Varric not caring much about past and embracing now is the core part of this philosophical debate. Embracing the change is the key element of Varrics prespective. What I dislike is how we end up putting all of dwarven culture on the chopping block to drive that point home.

I already made a post once about how Varric's approach to his heretige is very close to Sera's. And, even if Sera is not the most perfect representation of internalized racism... there is only one Sera, and there are 6 other elven companions, all of whom have diffrent perspectives on their culture. There is less then half of that for the dwarves, and no other dwarven companion in Inqusition meaning Varric is the only point of view on the dwarves we get. Imagine if through both DA2 and DAI the only elf companion we got was Sera.

Now why do I care about that. Because the "people who care 'too much' about their traditions and culture need to chill out" narrative is something that perminates a lot of Dragon Age writing about minorities. The elves do get it most often and the worst, but other races like dwarves and qunari aren't getting off the hook either. And with dwarves it annoys me specifically for quite some time now- because the racist and kind of anti-semitic writing in dwarves slips under the radar a lot of the time, especially since the writers did make a point to state the Jewish inspiration in Andrastian Elves openly and they get a lot more focus in the narrative.

So we end up with Varric, whose internalized racism not only goes unexamined, it is something that earns him praise and awe from an elven god. The message, however (hopefully) unintended is "Rejecting your cultural roots in the name of assimilation is a better way to be then worrying and caring about what you might be loosing ". And idk, I just. Don't like it. I think it sucks.

[thekingofwinterblog]

Varric Tethras - The Proud Dwarf

So it's not a big secret that the best companion Bioware ever created was Varric Tethras, the lovable rogue, crossbowman, author and handsome Viscount of Kirkwall.

There are ao many reasons to love Varric, but one I don't see much discussed, is the subtle, and contradictory relationship Varric has with his own race, the Dwarves of Thedas.

Varric makes it a point of always putting his seeming disdain for his own people out in the open, always making it clear how much he dislikes the traditional Dwarven culture, wqy of life and so on.

He describes Orzammar, one of the great wonders of the world as cramp tunnels filled with shit and body odor, he never fails to mention how much he hates the deep roads, and he often mocks dwarven pride at any opportunity with his usual wit and charm.

On the surface, Varric might seem like he has a lot in common with Sera and her racist views on all elvhen kind, but that really, really is not the case.

Because under that exterior of seeming disdain, is a man who both understands Dwarven Culture in all it's flaws, but also loves it and hates it in equal measures.

Varric has always made it clear how much he loved the Hanged man, and essentially made his room there his office, his real home away from the uber dwarfish merchant guild.

And do you know what he fills it with?

The dwarfiest architecture you can imagine. Varric has a dwarf table, a noble dwarf chair, dwarven artwork on the wall, and even a dwarven stone bed.

All expensive and traditional stuff which he would have had to had personally paid for to transport into this room out of his own pocket.

Varric for all his harsh words on the Dwarven people, WANTS to live in a home that looks utterly Dwarven.

The most obvious moment that puts Varric's love for his dwaf ancestry on full display is of course the act 2 quest from da2, where he and an insane(temporary lucid) Bartrand has a heart to heart where both puts their real feelings on the tragedy of their situation on display.

Varric chastises Bartrand for in his madness having thrown away every bit of his dwarven nobility and honor on a stupid trinket, and Bartrand ends up begging his brother not to let house Tethras fall with him, in this display of utter madness and dishonor.

The entire thing is a deeply tragic display where the two brothers show that deapite all their differences, they really did love each other deeply, as well as the fact they had a shared love of their ancestry as Orzammar Nobility.

Of course Varric almost never comes out and says it nearly this clearly anywhere else, as showcased in another side quest where you give him back the Tethras family signet ring that Bartrand had to pawn to finance the expedition.

He doesn't come out and say it, instead focusing on the bad aspects of Orzammar in this quest, but unless hawke is rivaling him when he gives him the quest, varric has a huge approval boost in response to getting his family ring back, showing the thing really did mean a lot to him, despite his disparaging it and Orzammar in said quest.

Later, in Inquisition, Varric never misses a chance to badmouth Orzammar and tradition, but he reacts with incredible sadness at the prospect of Orzammar one day possibly falling.

When Solas asks him about Dwarven literature, and whether there is a lot of Dwarven tricksters, varric gives a smartass remark summing it up as Dwarves tend to write how they want the world to be, while humans write how they think the world is, eith the latter being clearly superior.

It's a good scene, but it has a deeper meaning that ties into Varric's deeper views on Dwarven culture.

Varric knows how Dwarves write, because he has read Dwarven liturature, and understands it completely as both a dwarf, a reader, and a writer, and how it in turn differs from human literature.

For all his grumbling on dwarves in Orzammar being obsessed with their ancestors, he himself is the exact same way as shown in legacy when you find the original Tethras and gives him to the stone, able to shortly remember every bit of his own family lore on the spot and being moved to tears by the tragedy of it all.

Varric defends both surface dwarves and Orzammar dwarves against Solas accusation that they have given up against the darkspawn threat, though in his usual way, he makes it out like surface dwarves are clearly superior.

Varric genuinely loves and cares about so much of Dwarven culture and history, and he understands it deeply.

Which in turn also is the reason he genuinely hates so much about it.

Like all of the DA2 companions, Varric has something he is deeply, deeply obsessed with, something that drives him as a person, and motivates his actions through the entire story. The difference between him and everyone else, is that this obsession never reached a conclusion, because Varric doesn't get to actually face it, and confront it.

That obsession is, of course, the Dwarven Merchant Guild.

Varric HATES the Dwarven Merchant guild, and though he uses his regular humor to portray it, in this case it's actually the opposite of the way he will always be critical of the Dwarven people. Because Varric hates the guild far, far more than he ever pretends to hate Orzammar.

Varric always talks of how shitty the guild is, how it embodies the absolute worst parts of dwarven culture, and essentially how it ruined Bartrand from ever being able to function as anything other than a cutthroat businessman. He time, and time, and time again, refuses to interact with the guild, breaks the law hard to not have to participate, and all in all cold shoulders them and their cutthroat culture completely.

There is a very important, significant moment in act 3, that is incredibly easy to miss, but completely recontextualizes varric's entire motivation for wanting the deep roads expedition.

Varric talks about the real reason why Bartrand wanted to go through with the expedition, of how it represented the one chance he had to get AWAY from the guild forever, just by being rich enough he no longer had to deal with them anymore.

Varric portrays it as Bartrand's big wish and motivation, hut it's incredibly obvious if one pays attention that this was a wish the two brothers actually shared, a mutual desire in the world. Which in turn is one of the reasons why Varric is so incredibly angry at his brother when he goes off the deep end due to the idol and betrays them.

Him and Bartrand got into this venture to finally, once and for all get out of having to deal with the worst parts of surface Dwarf society, and here his brother seemingly willingly turned his back on all of that, showing the only thing he ever cared about was pure greed.

In other words, everything both he and Bartrand hated about the Merchant Guild.

Varric hates the Caste system. He hates the division between surface and "regular" dwarves, and he thinks Orzammar's nobility has a collective stick up it's ass. And yet despite all of that, he loves the Dwarves. He loves the idea of nobility and the ideals it is supposed to represent, he loves Dwarven architecture, their grand ability to make shit, and the incredible grit and romanticism about the Dwarves long, unending struggle against the darkspawn.

The only part of Dwarven society Varric has no love for, is the Merchant Guild. It is Orzammar's nobility without anything resembling virtues, nobles who lost their caste, and yet still enforces a brutal hierarchy of blood, and cares for no ideals, no honor, no cause, except for the clink of money.

Varric is such a deep character, and I really wish that in the future, we get to see this aspect of him fleshed out even more.

[bloedewir]

Avowed is slowly killing me with every news I get

Note: It's set in Pillars of Eternity world. And y'all remember Aloth Corfiser don't you? But if you don't know who he is just imagine Solas (Dragon Age) + Gale (BG3) + voice inside his head is like Oghren/Sera (Dragon Age).

Ok, back to topic. As we know Avowed won't have romance options at all.

And then they introduced the companions:

Giatta (ocean human, wizard)

Mara Junot (Ikora Rey in 'Destiny 2', Zuri Abara in 'Starfield', Player in 'Remnant II')

Marius (mountain dwarf, ranger).

Scott Whyte (Player in 'Remnant II', Rathma in 'Diablo IV')

Yatzli (hearth orlan, wizard).

Anjali Bhimani (Commander Natara in 'Starfield', Rampart in 'Apex Legends')

Kai (coastal aumaua, fighter).

Brandon Keener.

Garrus freaking Vakarian

WHAT IN THE HELLS you're doing to me XBOX?

You gave us Brandon Keener's voice after all these years and for the second time the character isn't romanceable?

(First one is Sharp-as-Night, The Elder Scrolls online Argonian companion).

Am I back to Mass Effect 1 frustration issues? Again? Oh Eothas have mercy...

And if you ask yourself how tf it is related to Bioware answer is simple: Garrus Vakarian is from the Mass Effect series, as is Liara T'Soni. Liara voiced by Ali Hillis who is also the voice of Lace Harding in DA4 (and shaper Valta btw). Boom, dots connected.

[lanafofana]

put a fanfic trope in my inbox and I will tell you:

how likely I am to write it

what character(s) or pairing I’d most likely write it for.

How about betrayal fic, crack fic, or crossover? 💕

Hello and thankyou for the ask!! 😘💖

There's a lot to cover so let’s fucking goooooo

Betrayal!

Friend, I have never before thought about writing betrayal (outside of the misunderstanding trope) before but ooh this ask has my gears turning!

I think if I was going to tackle this it would be in one of these types of scenarios:

Astarion x Durge - What if at the end of BG3 Durge attempts to pull his massive betrayal BUT is unsuccessful and now Astarion has to move on from that point. Falling in love with someone and trusting them so much all to find it was for naught? Holy angst batman 🤤

Tav x Durge- you know me and my TavxDurge brain rot, but what if instead of Durge (arguably the one with higher likelihood of pulling a sudden Judas) doing the betrayal it’s Tav? Ooh and what if it pushed him into a more unstable state where he’s even more on the cusp of embracing those dark urges? Yeeeee

Crack

I am 10000% likely to write crack. Crack is some of my favorite stuff to write. There's a lot of freedom in just writing whatever unhinged nonsense flits across the brain and I enjoy imagining dialogue that just goes completely off the rails. And crack treated seriously? Yes yes yes yes. Give me absurd situations to put my blorbos in. Let them say the most hilariously off the wall stuff but in context, still make sense.

As for characters/pairings? Probably almost all of them. No one is safe from me.

Crossover my beloved!!!!

A Lana crossover original? It's more likely than you think!

Guess who has been quietly writing a Baldurs Gate Three/Dragon Age Inquisition crossover? Is it crack? Yes.

Because when I started playing DAI I kept thinking how fucking funny it would be for Shadowheart to lose the Sharran Wound only to end up in Thedas and immediately get the Mark of “Andraste.” Like???? My girl cannot catch a fucking break 🤣 And for pairing? I’m still working that out.

Aside from that, I love a good crossover. I also played around with the idea of someone from Thedas dropped into Faerûn which, as a concept, I fucking love. But I have not had the time to really pursue it much (yet).

Possible pairings thoughts?

Dorian x Gale. Do I even need to explain this hello

Tav x Varric. LET ME LOVE THE DWARF BIOWARE YOU COWARDS

Inquisitor x Wyll. Because that's what heroes do (each other).

Sera x Lae'zel. No shut up, I'm right. No, I will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you.

Solas x Halsin. Because why wouldn't Halsin want to fuck the drea(I am forcibly removed from the podium)

[dareactions]

This might be convoluted but please stay with me. Imagine: Warden is the Inquisitior. Don't ask me how, but they contact the Arishok (Sten from Origins), and he shows up at Skyhold. He still calls them Kadan. People's reactions to that. Especially Bull.

djwklae Sten calling me Kadan gave ME LIFE. my husband, love of my life. he holds my hand when i kill things w my blood magic <3 this is now canon to my warden!inquisitor, thanks

Iron Bull: There are moments in everyone's life when they see all the choices they've made laid out before them. To Bull, this is when the Arishok walks in and looks at the Inquisitor with fondness in his eyes, and the words 'kadan' leaves his lips. He isn't sure how to feel whatsoever, how the hell is he expected to feel? He just stands there with his mouth agape like a fucking idiot for ten minutes straight until he get spoken to. He needs alcohol, stat.

Cassandra: She is considering handing in her resignation, a little bit. There are only so many things she can handle and this is for sure not entirely one of them. What is she supposed to do beyond act polite? If the Inquisitor catches her glaring at them, that's her business.

Blackwall: I would love to write some really in-depth thing here but I think he literally just emotionally clocks out and calls it a day.

Dorian: Dorian is laughing his fucking ass off behind closed doors. He pats them on the shoulder and goes 'good job', because not everyone can score an Arishok- as a friend or lover for that matter. He keeps almost laughing every time he looks at Bull and he feels dreadful for it but it's so funny.

Sera: She feels a bit weird about it? Like the Qunari have always been a mixed back and apparently, the Inquisitor is like- in a relationship with one, right? That's what that means? She thinks, at least. The guy also looks intimidating enough that Sera knows better than to make any comments so she just stands there before deciding its very much not her problem.

Varric: He thought Hawke had questionable taste and now he has to write apology letters to them.

Vivienne: She doesn't even want to think about the political implications of this.Vivienne just keeps her mouth shut unless asked in which she still keeps her mouth shut. The Arishok is a frightening man and not someone she even wants to dare to comment on the relationship of if he is in the same building.

Cole: I honestly don't think the lil man cares. He is just happy they're happy!

Solas: Honestly, any thoughts he has is overshadowed by the amusement he feels when everyone freaks out a bit. Sure, it's not what he expected but- fair enough? It does make him question how the hell he is going to go forward with his other plans but he'll figure it out.

[serensama]

In Sacrifice, Glory: Chapter 5

Thank you @illneverrecover <3 Read on Ao3

Cassandra had been muttering under her breath since their meeting with the Templars. Every so often she would burst out with a ‘Has Lord Lucius truly gone mad?’ or ‘How could he do this?!’ startling them to no end. She remained distracted as they searched for clues for the friend of Red Jenny, with the warrior often walking into the back of Varric and never rising to the occasion to any of his barbs. The dwarf looked at Elissa and Solas completely at a loss as to how to break the Seeker from her thoughts, and they all silently agreed to give her the time to adjust to the knowledge there was a newer, more sinister leader of the Seeker order. 

It was not until another elf made herself known at their rendezvous point did she snap out of her self-imposed daze, the loud and lairy rogue bright enough to shock someone back from the brink of death. 

“Y-You, you are the Friend of Red Jenny?” she asked, mouth slack and surprise plastered across her face, her expression only deepening the more she heard the woman talk. 

“Well yeah, one of them anyways. Name’s Sera. This is cover. Get round it. For the reinforcements. Don’t worry. Someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches,” she giggled, a look of pure cheekiness upon her young face. 

“Breeches?” Cassandra echoed, completely confused and struggling to catch up with what was happening. She looked between her companions to see if she was the only one who felt as if she no longer understood the Common tongue with the way this stranger wielded it. Cassandra glanced at Elissa who only shrugged but readied her staff for whatever was to come their way. 

Thankfully the fight was quick and the Herald and Sera seemed to understand each other and made light work of recruiting the archer and her network of ‘people’ to aid the Inquisition; their brief interaction ended with Sera skipping away from their group with a promise to meet them back at Haven. 

“That is by far the oddest elf I have ever met,” Cassandra baulked after her as she shook some blood off her blade. 

Solas made a strangled noise at the back of his throat and gawked at Cassandra. “Oh no Seeker, this has nothing to do with her being an elf at all, we have all had the pleasure to bear witness to what a storm looks like trapped in skin,” he groused, shaking his head disbelievingly. 

“Yeah, and yellow plaid slacks,” Varric chuckled as he pulled out his book and wrote something down that made him snort at his own cleverness. Elissa tried to peek over his shoulder but he noticed and snapped the book shut from her prying eyes with a small smirk.

“What, are you writing a note to buy some for yourself? Sorry to break it to you Master Tethras but you couldn’t pull it off,” she tutted with mock sincerity which earned her a light snicker from Solas. “Solas on the other hand could definitely make those trousers work.” 

Solas abruptly stopped laughing which caused Cassandra to snort inelegantly; allowing for Varric to write an additional note about them all undisturbed. Elissa could only imagine the tales the dwarf was spinning about them, but she yearned to be there when it was all over; sat by the fire to hear him recount their tales just like he had about Hawke and their friends. She could envision it, everyone- right there with her as they listened to the storyteller well into the night. The madness they were currently fighting, nothing more but an entertaining memory to warm them for years to come. 

A distant tolling of a clock let her know just how late it was, reminding her that she had yet to rest since leaving Val Royeaux earlier that morning. Elissa suggested that they head back to their lodgings and get cleaned up and get whatever rest there was to be had. They had to have their wits about them, she knew that for sure. She could almost hear Leliana in her ear, a faded memory playing in her mind. ‘You cannot enter an Orlesian event without arming yourself. Douse yourself in etiquette and only speak if you can promise a chance of intrigue; pair it with the right shoes, Lissa- and they cannot touch you!’

Unfortunately for her she only had the boots the Inquisition had commissioned for her, it would just have to be enough for First Enchanter Vivienne... whoever the hell she was. Elissa squeezed her eyes shut to try to block the ringing in her ears and the creeping pain across her temples as the memory faded away, the pit of worry in her stomach descending ever further. Each time she gained a memory it was always accompanied by pain. She could not shake the feeling that whatever her mind was hiding from her was so sinister, that it may be better to continue on as she was. That whatever her past held, was better left forgotten. 

---

Orlesians. 

She couldn’t have been bloody Orlesian. The only one she could stomach for any great length was Leliana. Of course she understood pomp and pageantry but these people took it to a level she could not grasp. A part of her appreciated the beauty of it all; their architecture, their fashion and the general opulence the empire held- but if she had to listen to another Orlesian noble harp on about some random Vicomte or Baroness she would try to drown herself in the shallow fountain in the centre of the room. 

She had already managed to convince a Comte and Comtesse that everything they heard about her and the Inquisition was true. She was just about to tell them that at night bluebirds came down from upon high, to lift up her blankets and tuck her in and sing her sweetly to sleep. Unfortunately a particularly sour fellow interrupted her and started challenging her to a duel. She was about to accept and thus escape the inane drivel of the salon when ice encased the man, not letting him move, let alone breathe. 

Did she do that? She had thought that was getting her magic under control but- 

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house... to my guests. You know such rudeness is- intolerable.”

Oh thank goodness. It wasn’t her. 

Their host, a fiercely clad woman in ivory and silver, turned on her heel to address her. “My Lady, you are the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?” 

Elissa did not bother to glance over at the frozen Marquis in case the irrational thought of smashing him to bits with her staff proved too tempting. 

“I did not come here for the Marquis or to take heed of any nonsense he or anyone else may espouse. Truthfully he bores me, so I leave him to you, to do as you please with him,” she replied, trying to sound as aloof as possible to play to the crowd that had stopped to watch their every move. She slowly released her held breath to ensure her nervousness remained hidden; relieved their host had chosen to spare the idiot, publically humiliate him true, but spared him nonetheless. Whilst she certainly didn't like him, she would never wish him dead. 

Once the Marquis made his shameful exit and the rest of the party had spread out to continue with their Orlesian style revelry, the mage motioned for Elissa to follow her to a more private area to talk. 

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Vivienne, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court,” she declared so confidently that had she offered her hand to Elissa, she would have taken it and kissed it without a moment’s hesitation. “I wanted to meet you face to face, it is important to consider one’s connections carefully. As the leader of the last loyal mages of Thedas, I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause.”

She bristled at the term “loyal mages” but decided not to prod at the snap happy First Enchanter lest she be turned into the next ice sculpture of the salon. 

“Why seek me or the Inquisition out, Lady Vivienne? You seem quite well off here already as First Enchanter and Enchantress to the Empress, what’s in this for you?” Elissa questioned wanting to understand this woman’s motivations. She watched as the Enchanter smirked and tilted her chin up, somehow making herself seem even more larger than life than before. 

“The same thing anyone gets by fighting this chaos. The chance to meet my enemy and to decide my fate. I will not wait quietly for destruction,” she declared, her body language screaming at Elissa to dare to contradict her. 

She had to give it to the evening’s host, she was every bit as fierce in persona as her bold choice in attire. Perhaps she had found another Orlesian she didn’t immediately want to kill by choking them with their own frilled collars. 

“The Inquisition will be happy to have you, Lady Vivienne,” she smiled as she called over a wandering server with sparkling wine and took two long stemmed glasses, one for each of them. Vivienne quietly thanked her and offered the rim of her glass for Elissa to clink against her own in celebration.

“Great things are beginning, my dear. I can promise you that,” she proclaimed before taking a long sip. 

“Oh of that I’ve no doubt First Enchanter,” Elissa agreed, raising her glass up in salutation to the frost mage. “No one dressed as fabulously as you are could promise no less.” Vivienne’s mouth pouted and twitched at the corners, Elissa surmised that was the Orlesian equivalent of a smile. 

“My darling, oh I do think I actually like you. Well done,” she acknowledged as she moved back into the thrall of nobles, leaving Elissa to her own questioning whether gaining the Enchantress’ approval was something to be applauded or feared. 

---

“I just got back Leliana,” Elissa groused as she stared down the Spymaster from across the war table. At least the redhead had the humility to look abashed by her request. To think she had just literally swung her leg off of Charlotte and handed her reins to Master Dennett, when a scout raced out letting her know that her presence was requested inside the Chantry. Maker be praised that she didn’t need to relieve herself first, perhaps have something to eat or even try to pretend the inside of her thighs weren’t burning something dreadful due to the travel to and from Val Royeaux. If there was one thing Elissa was damned sure of, she was going to teach the former Left and Right Hands of the Divine some bloody patience.

“I understand that Herald, and I would not think to ask if it were not important,” she implored as she pointed to a mark on the Hinterlands. “This is the last known sighting of the Warden.”

Elissa scratched at her neck in irritation, racking her brain for a reason why Leliana thought it imperative for them to find some random Warden, it wasn’t even about Darkspawn, what good would the Grey Wardens be? 

“Surely it is more important for me to get to Redcliffe and meet with Fiona and see if she and the other mages would join our cause? Can we not look for him on the way back after speaking to her, or better yet, after we’ve finished what needs to be done with the Breach?” she asked, pointing at the map herself. “It does not make sense that we wander around the entire expanse of that countryside looking for one man, that has nothing to do with what we’re trying to accomplish here.” 

Leliana looked like she wanted to smack Elissa on the back of the head but instead plotted the proposed course she would take with her finger in order to find this Warden Blackwall. 

“I am not sure that is entirely true Herald,” she stated, waiting for Elissa to show curiosity at what she said before continuing. “The Grey Wardens have now disappeared both in Ferelden and in Orlais, and we need answers as to why. My last contact here within the Wardens has stopped responding to me and I hear no reports at all from Vigil’s Keep… we cannot rule out that they know something that we do not, and knowledge is everything. Warden Blackwall is the best key to get that knowledge.” 

Elissa sighed heavily and acquiesced, she knew that Grey Wardens were important to their world and with all the craziness that had been happening, she would be foolish to discount the possibility that something had happened to them too. She was not happy about it, but she would do it. The weary mage gathered up all the missives relating to the Warden and carefully placed them in her pack before giving the Sister a withering glare.

“I did not mean you had to go right away Elissa!” she called out as she made her way out of the Chantry. 

“There’s no need for me to get comfortable if all I’m to do is leave again, I’ll just restock on some supplies and be on my way,” she sniped over her shoulder, waving to Josephine as she passed her office. “See you when I see you.” 

Josephine rushed from behind her desk to see the Herald stomp off into the village, clearly annoyed but still kind enough to say hello to everyone who greeted her. Leliana looked over at the diplomat and shrugged, unsure if she should go after her and try to make nice before she left the camp again. 

“Did you tell her why you were sending her out there instead of one of your scouts?” Josie asked, already knowing the answer. 

Leliana shook her head and pursed her lips, thinking of the best way to reply to her Antivan friend. She retreated back to the war room knowing that the ambassador would follow until she received her answer.

“No Josie, I did not tell her the reason I sent her,” she relented as she carefully slid herself onto the corner of the table. 

“Was that not your mistake then? If you told her why you thought it was important maybe she would have been more understanding?” she reproached her, looking far too similar to a Reverend Mother admonishing her young initiates. 

“Because the last time I told her something she passed out Josie,” she bit out more harshly than she intended. “So I thought, if she were to meet with a warden, talk to them, perhaps that would help jog her memory naturally and she wouldn’t have to go through more pain.” 

Josephine gave her a sad but understanding smile and motioned for Leliana to make room for her on the table to sit beside her. 

“Alright, that makes sense. But why did we have to send her? We know where he is and we could have invited him here to Haven, ready to speak to her,” she asked, trying to understand her reasoning. Leliana opted to keep those reasons secret, mainly because they were not hers to say. She had gleaned from her time with both Elissa and Alistair that not only could they sense darkspawn, they could also sense other wardens. If Elissa could feel whatever it was they felt when looking for the Warden, perhaps that was the key to unlocking who she was. 

“The more she is seen out in the field, doing the people’s work- they will see through the lies the other clerics have been spewing about her, about the Inquisition. She needs to be seen amongst the people and not someone leading an army to take over Thedas,” she said instead, not entirely a lie, but definitely not the whole truth. It would be of great benefit indeed to their cause for the people to see Elissa as one of them, though it would be even better if they saw the Herald of Andraste was also the Hero of Ferelden.

Josephine linked arms with her and lay her head on Leliana’s shoulder, enjoying the reprieve from her never ending mountain of correspondence. 

“You do realise you will have to somehow make it up to her, yes? She had been on the road for quite a while with little to no rest... she probably feels more like the Inquisition’s lackey than any sort of Herald,” she said, jostling her friend slightly when she did not reply.

“I know, I’ll speak to her when she gets back...” Leliana faded off at the sharp look Josephine gave her, “...after she has had a long rest and is ready to discuss things with me.”

Josephine smiled proudly and nodded her approval at the Spymaster’s change of tactics then hopped off the table.

“A fine plan, perhaps you could make a night of it then? I could give you one of the bottles of wine I’ve brought along from my family’s vineyard and you can both get drunk and bond like two noble ladies sneaking into the cellar after a ball.”

“That sounds awfully like something you are suggesting from your personal experience, Lady Montilyet,” Leliana chuckled as the diplomat’s mouth opened and closed in surprise. 

“Of course not Sister Leliana,” she gasped, smoothing down the front of her blouse. “I would never sneak and I would also never wait until aftera ball, all the best wine would have already been drunk.” 

---

The bloody pack would not stay fastened to Charlotte no matter what she did; she could not tell if she had managed to forget how to secure the damned thing in the two hours she was back in Haven or if the bag had somehow broken. Elissa pulled it down to inspect it closer, only for the loosened flap to open and spill out her newly acquired provisions. She threw her bag down and raised a shaking hand to shield her eyes from the midday sun, unsure if she was going to swear or scream or cry. Maybe all three, she deserved to treat herself. 

She heard someone greet her and looked down at her feet. A man was bent over picking up her dropped items, brushing off the dirt and snow from each object before carefully placing them into her pack.

“Oh Commander, you don’t have to do that-” she started, ducking down to help him.

“It is no trouble,” he interrupted her, giving her a warm smile. “Sometimes this is the Maker’s way of telling us to stop for a moment.”

“Is this the Commander’s way of ordering me to stop for a moment?” she questioned, grin playing at her lips at the way he paused at her gentle teasing. 

“Not so much an order as it is wise counsel. It will do you well to take a second before heading out to -?”

“The Hinterlands. Leliana wants me to go out and search for a random man in a random place,” she frowned as she threw the rest of her belongings into the pack to save any further embarrassment at having the head of the army pick up after her, like the parent of a petulant child after throwing a hissy fit.

“Certainly, and as uh, important as that mission sounds, it would serve you better to have some rest and go back out there with your head screwed on straight. I’ve seen many great soldiers not come back because they were too tired to think clearly,” he explained as he secured her bag and attached it to the back of Charlotte- who did not look impressed to be travelling so soon, much like her mistress.

Elissa could not argue it was indeed wise counsel. She remembered seeing soldiers come back from a campaign and some so weary they did fall off their horses. She hissed when a sharp pain exploded from the back of her eyes and she fell against her horse for support. Cullen’s gloved fingers gently took hers in hand- she had not realised she had clasped them around her face- and pulled them down to examine her. 

“Herald, are you alright?” he asked, panic colouring his voice. Elissa slowly opened one eye and then the other, afraid another pang would hit her. The world unblurred and she was looking into warm pools of honey, scanning her face and hands frantically for any injury. “Did something hit you? Are you unwell? I should call for Solas-” he scrambled, already waving for the nearest scout to come to him. 

Elissa stilled him and waved back the running scout, apologising for scaring him over nothing and that she was perfectly fine. 

“Fine is it? Is that why you’re still holding onto my arms to stand upright Herald?” he said, calling her out on her little white lie.

“Jokes on you Commander, I was just holding onto you because I’m trying to steal this fantastic surcoat of yours, it is far prettier than anything I own and- ah!,” she gasped as another bout of pain attacked her senses, her fingers clinging onto his armguards. 

Ignoring her protests he guided her over to the closest tent and sat her down, he had thought to carry her but he was not sure what that would do to her pride and for the troop’s morale. To them, she really was the Herald of Andraste and he was not going to shatter any illusions that kept their spirits high. 

“Please stay here, have something warm to drink and you can get some rest-”

“Truly, Commander, it’s fine, I’m fine-”

“No, you’re not. So now it is an order. You will stay here until I or Solas give you clearance, do you understand me Herald?” he asserted as he pressed a cup of freshly brewed tea into her hand, wrapping his hands around her smaller one to make sure she had a safe grip on it. 

Elissa stared up at him, even as he knelt down and crouched forward; he was so much bigger than she was. Everything about him was large and strong. The pain she felt swiftly receded and replaced with a rush of something else, his touch and manner firm but gentle... Elissa get a grip, he was just helping because you’re their Herald of Andraste, stop deluding yourself woman. Just drink the damn tea. 

“...I’m not hearing a ‘Yes Commander’ there, Herald,” he smirked, thoroughly enjoying the way she licked her lips as she looked up at him. The Maker preserve him, he was going to be struck down by lightning. 

“Yes Commander,” she whispered as she brought the cup to her lips, watching him watch her with rapt fascination. It was not until he recognised his gloves that he realised his hands were still wrapped around her hand and the cup. 

Cullen could feel his face flood with colour to the tips of his ears as he released her suddenly and fell back, almost losing his balance. 

“Commander! We need your assistance here Ser!,” a lieutenant called out to him, allowing him to escape and save face. He repeated that she needed to rest and that he would be back shortly but to call out if she needed anything, not quite able to meet her gaze for fear he would combust.

He hadn’t meant to flirt with the woman, he had only wanted to help her. He had seen her ride in with the others and was glad to see that they were all in one piece and seemed in good spirits which surprised him considering the reports that were sent from their trip to Val Royeaux. However they did come out of it with new merchants and allies so it was not all for naught. 

Cullen still hadn’t made up his mind about the Herald since his last chat with her. He could clearly see that they looked like the same person but it was just too fantastical to think of someone coming back to life just to help them out of the mess they were in. The Maker had long abandoned them, or so said the Chantry, so why would he send her? 

As he watched her head into the main camp he could not help but watch her walk away; he was not a blind man, and she was for all intents and purposes a very beautiful woman- one who happened to look like Elissa Cousland’s twin. Back in the day, there were talks of the Hero of Ferelden being a warrior whose beauty dazzled both the darkspawn and the Fereldan nobles into submission. Bullshit. Even as angry as he was back in the Tower, he knew the woman could fight and had both talent and spirit enough to defeat demons and abominations, it was not just about her appearance. Yet he had to admit, looking as she did probably assisted more than inhibited her... and probably why she was so free with her charms; he doubted anyone would deny her whatever she wanted, especially if what she wanted was them. 

One of the recruits slipped and he helped them up with a hearty pat on the back, Cullen told them to take a quick break before heading back out to complete the drills, when he remembered that it had been more than an hour since he had left the Herald. She was probably long gone by then, already taken that horse and rode off into the Hinterlands to do what was needed, why would she heed his order? Still he made his way to where he left her to find her sitting closer to where the soldiers trained, hands holding the empty cup and watching them go through the exercises with a look of wonder and appreciation on her face. He could not help but be amused by the sight, after all he probably looked exactly the same when a group of Templars had arrived in Honnleath and he trailed after them day after day, completely awed by their skill and knowledge. 

Cullen took a seat beside her but she did not notice, her attention too focused on the recruits using a sword and shield. Her eyes darted back and forth as they sparred and her smile grew wider each time one of them managed to successfully complete an attack or block one. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she placed the cup down and leaned forward, her chin resting on the heel of her mark-free palm, grinning as the spar grew more intense. Finally the more experienced soldier managed to find an opening and struck the recruit in the side, winding the young man and causing him to fall to his knees and surrender. 

“Oooh poor dear, he should have kept that shield up,” she muttered to herself as she clapped for them both nonetheless. 

“Have you ever held a sword before Herald?” he asked, genuinely interested if the woman had any skill for melee combat with something other than a staff. She sat still and continued to watch the other soldiers so he had thought she hadn’t heard him and was about to repeat himself, when he noticed her shoulders moving up and down slowly and her lips pressed tightly together to hold in her laughter. What was so funny that she had to- “Oh, you’re just as bad as my men!” he scoffed as her giggles bubbled out of her.

“My apologies Commander, but truth be told, I don’t remember if I’ve ever held a sword.”

“Well, would you like to try? Oh- Herald would you stop laughing!” he crowed, unable to hold back his own grin at her japes. “Would you like to train with the troops? Only if you’re feeling up to it of course.”

“Why Commander, I thought you would never ask.”

Elissa beamed and stood up with her hand extended to help him to his feet which he accepted happily. As he pushed himself up he realised he was standing too close to her to be considered proper, with less than one arm’s length between them. Cullen stepped to her side and led her towards an open area where she had more room to practise without too many soldiers to stare at her. 

Cullen went over to a nearby weapons rack and picked out one of the training longswords, probably the same weight as her current staff, perhaps even lighter.

“Try this one Herald, tell me how it feels.”

“Cullen if you keep making it this easy to make everything you say into a double entendre we will literally be out here all day,” she smirked as she manoeuvred the sword in her hands to see what felt most comfortable for her.

“Truly, that mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day,” he snickered before realising what he just said, throwing his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Let’s just begin with a basic attack. Now first put your left foot forward and the right behind you- yes like that. Now make sure your hips are facing your opponent and not on an angle. Sword held at your shoulder height.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now grip the handle firmly, starting with both hands, and what we want are smooth, fluid motions. We want to close the distance between you and the enemy, but when you move forward ensure you move out of their line of attack- whether that is to the left or right is up to you- this way you are ready for any counterattack. From here bring your sword down in one straight swing down towards their head and neck.”

Elissa looked at him unsure of herself, she had just gotten used to her staff and that had taken weeks. She could only imagine how long she would have to be at the training dummies before she could do anything that looked remotely like an attack. She had to remind herself that he was very used to seeing men and women take their swings during training and she couldn’t embarrass herself that badly in front of him. 

Ah, stupid girl. You made that sound like a challenge. Not only will you not stop flirting with him, you will now be able to show him how bad you are at actually holding a sword. Double entendre or not. Bravo.

“Is the sword too heavy, Herald?” he asked when she stood there unmoving, silently berating herself. “I can get you another, perhaps we have a wooden training sword somewhere-”

“By wooden sword do you mean that toy sword that one of the tavern server’s son plays with?” she questioned incredulously, almost offended at the idea she looked that weak she could only lift a child’s play thing. Cullen didn’t answer except for a shrug as his smile broadened, his silence enough to light a fire under her to prove him wrong. With her self-consciousness all but gone, Elissa moved toward the practice dummy and swung down, easily slicing the burlap where the neck would have been. 

The Commander blinked a couple of times to register what happened; most times people who had never held a sword would miss or move very clumsily, however the Herald moved with no hesitation and in one clean sweep. It could have been beginner's luck of course.

“Again Herald,” he instructed, gaze fixed at the sword in her hand. 

Elissa nodded and completed the exercise another three times without being prompted, each swing powerful and effortless as if she did not have to think about it at all. However he supposed after weeks on the road the training with Cassandra could have prepared her much better than anyone expected- even if with a completely different weapon. He called over a recruit and told him to run to the tavern and ask for an assortment of vegetables varying in size, whatever they had that was already turning and about to be thrown away or fed to the animals. 

Whilst he waited for him to return, he continued to observe the Herald who had started to move with more confidence and had experimented with different angles of the sword to hit the top of the head, the shoulder, the top of the arm- in almost a practised pattern. He could not deny that she held great promise and could not discard the idea that she had previously been trained, or at least began her training in swordsmanship prior to the Conclave. 

The scout returned with a small crate of cabbages, onions and potatoes to pass to Cullen. Thanking him as a dismissal, Cullen carried the humble assortment of produce towards a nearby wooden post where they were about to build a new dummy to train on. Carefully he balanced the largest cabbage on top of the post and called the Herald over, still practising the simple attack. 

It was one thing to be able to attack a large target, if she could control her sword to accurately slice the vegetables up there could be no doubt she was either a prodigy or she had been previously taught. 

She came over to him and wiped the sweat that had already formed around her hairline, her sword held up with the tip in the air and the flat of the blade against her shoulder. The proper way to travel with an unsheathed sword; not that he had taught her that, nor was it something she would have had the opportunity to see from any of the soldiers around camp. 

“Herald, could you please try to aim for this cabbage using the move you’ve been practising?” he said, gesturing to it.

Elissa stared at him as if he had grown another head.

“Come now, you were doing a fine job with that now dummy. If that was a person they’d be well and truly dead.”

“Yes, but that dummy had an unnaturally large head. That cabbage is much more head sized and not attached to anything else I can stab,” she rebutted, trying her best to dissuade the Commander of this idea. 

“Unfortunately for you, you’ll find most people have more head-sized heads than not,” he pointed out, stepping outside of her sword’s range so she could begin. “Please, just try your best. If we find this is not something you’re able to do yet, it is something we know we need to work on.”

“Has anyone told you how annoying it is when you’re being logical and right?” she mumbled but still fell into the correct stance.

Cullen laughed through his nose and tried his best to suppress the smug smile that threatened to bloom across his mouth. “Not today... or at least not out loud, Herald.” 

Elissa took a deep breath and then another, completely focused on the cabbage with its browning edges and smaller area for attack. She imagined the arc of her blade, the way it would cut through the air and where it would end. Her feet moved and then her arm, smooth and clean, the cabbage lying in twain on the ground. Not a perfect cut down the middle but still, if that were a head- the person would not be alive to mock her for a less than stellar hit. 

Without missing a beat Cullen took out a large potato and set it where the cabbage was upon the post.

"Again, please,” he asked, his hand motioning towards the brown vegetable. 

“Commander-”

“You did not think you could hit the cabbage. You did. Just try it, please.”

Elissa huffed and got back into position, shaking her head in disbelief. The man was being stubborn and pushing the limits of her abilities. 

The arc of your blade. The sound of the air it cuts. The point of your sword when the swing is done. 

Two portions of the potato lay near the man’s feet and he let out a low whistle of appreciation. She had great control, strength and aim, that much was assured. 

“Hey, would you look at that! I did it! Commander did you- what the actual-... Cullen!” she screeched as he threw an onion at her without warning. Instinctively she cut down the projectile enough to deflect it from hitting her. “What the heck? Are we just pelting the Herald of Andraste with spoiled vegetables now? I expected this when I first woke up from the Conclave not bloody weeks after, man!” she ranted with no particular heat behind her words.

“My apologies Herald of Andraste,” he saluted, his eyes fixed on her as he grinned. “I just had to see.”

“See what? If I’d look better with a black eye?” she voiced, cleaning the juices off the blade on the back of her forearm. “I’ll save you the wondering, I do not. Just ask Cassandra when one of the rogue Templars out in the Hinterlands managed to land a punch on me. Looked like an angry little badger for a week. Though it smarted for longer than that- the bastard.” 

Cullen’s smile quickly faded at the thought of someone from his previous order hitting her and turned solemn immediately. Of course he knew that everyone there was in danger and anyone at any time could get injured or killed; but the idea of her being hurt in particular, did not sit well with him. It was probably because she did not sign up like he did, joined the Inquisition out of necessity and not out of free will. Probably because she was so easy to get along with and helped boost the people’s determination by her mere presence. Something like that. Probably. 

“I am sorry to hear it Herald, and no, it is not something I would like to see on you,” he said gravely, something in his tone making Elissa look up at him. “I uh, I mean anyone. Anyone within the Inquisition of course. I hate the idea of anyone under my charge getting hurt, of course.” 

“Of course,” she smiled politely, the warmth not quite reaching her eyes as they normally did. 

“I just needed to see if you were able to hit a moving target and you could, quite well considering the size of the object,” he praised her, pointing at the ground where the pieces of onion had landed. “It is not something a green swordsman could do, especially when they were not expecting it. You have been trained Herald, the only question is how much.” 

Elissa rested the sword against a nearby dummy and pondered on his assessment. She had to admit that she felt more at home with a sword than she did with a staff, something familiar and comforting in the movements. Perhaps that earlier memory of the army was of her in an army. Was she part of the King's Guard? Made sense why she knew what the name of the pub in Denerim was... 

“... I would like to test this, but the only way to do it is get you out there and to fight someone. Would that be something you’re interested in doing?” he questioned, already thinking of the best suited soldiers to call upon. 

“What? Oh, yes that would be fine,” she agreed, not quite understanding what she had consented to until Cullen returned with a handful of his troops who looked a little too thrilled to be chosen to help train the Herald of Andraste.

“Are you ready Herald?” he asked as one of the newer recruits walked toward her with his sword still sheathed.

“Good day Herald, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Devon,” the young man said. Elissa looked over the lad and he couldn’t be a day over 18, a child fighting a war.

“Good day Devon, thank you for helping me today,” she replied as kindly as she could, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tinge of sadness in her voice. 

“Not at all Herald, it’s the least we could do,” he chirped excitedly, drawing out his training sword. 

“Begin!” Cullen yelled out, surprising the two fighters. 

Elissa registered that she was starting to panic, going from dummy to flying onion to person was a massive change in the space of an hour but it was too late to object. Devon was side stepping in a circle and she followed in suit, not entirely sure what she was doing but it was better than becoming a still target for him to wallop. 

“Devon, we’ve established the Herald can walk, please do something else,” Cullen instructed from the sidelines, watching the both of them intently. 

“Yes Ser!” he called out before flashing Elissa an apologetic expression and swung at her, which she clumsily evaded. He tried again but she managed to parry his swing and rotate the blade with such force the sword flung out of the soldier’s hand.

“Next!”

“What, next?”

“Good afternoon Herald, my name is Edmund,” he said quickly before running at her with his sword ready to thrust into her abdomen. Elissa squawked as she jumped out of the way, almost tripping over her feet as she put more space between her and her opponent. She calmed herself and set herself in position to brace for attack and allowed Edmund to rush her, eyes fixed on him like a hawk, reading his movements to effectively block each incoming swing. She had stopped thinking and allowed her body to take over, it seemed to know what to do and her thoughts were only getting in the way. 

There, she thought as she realised how open he left himself whenever he tried to attack from above. Without a second’s hesitation she reared back and placed a well-aimed kick to the left of his groin, hard enough to push him back and pretend to stab him through the stomach where he lay. 

“Lysette, your turn!” 

“Lysette? She’s a bloody trained Templar!” Elissa panted, whipping her braid back with a flick of her head. 

“Do not worry Herald, I will not harm you,” the taller warrior said, saluting to her before pulling out both her sword and shield. 

“I have a new found empathy for your recruits Commander,” Elissa quipped, sending him a glare which he accepted with grace. 

“I’ll be sure to relay that to them all,” he replied proudly. If all of the new recruits learned to fight like the Herald then they truly stood a chance to defeat whatever was coming. “Keep your wits about you now, this will be a real fight. Lysette might be a newer Templar but she has been well trained.” 

It hadn’t escaped Elissa that more of the army had noticed their sparring and had stopped their training to look, no matter how hard the Lieutenants had tried to refocus their attention. Lysette looked ready to dive into their duel whilst Elissa suddenly felt like the tavern server’s son with a toy sword playing at war. Lysette, armoured and imposing with her sword and shield, bowed graciously before charging at her. 

The Templar was indeed well trained, with precise strikes and practised defence, it was all Elissa could do to stay on her feet and not have her head rung like a bell. Lysette pressed her advantage forcing Elissa to retreat from her step by step. 

Elissa wanted to surrender, there would be no shame in it, she was outmatched. She was just not at the other woman’s level and she should have been proud that she lasted for as long as she had. But the words would not come out of her mouth, too bitter for her to say; the words just fizzled on her tongue as she bore her relentless strikes one after another. Her pride would not stand for it. She would rather be knocked unconscious than to say she would give up, and once again she cursed her predilection for putting herself in circumstances that could get herself killed.

In her mind, she pretended to be a seasoned warrior, determined to at least put up a fight. She blocked, parried and attacked, and though she may have looked a fool- at least she wasn’t a quitter. Elissa’s blunted longsword continued to fend off Lysette's once confident advances, slowly turning the tide for the mage. 

Elissa knew she had to end things quickly in fear she really would fall to a well-aimed blow as she could feel the effects of the fight start to weigh down her arms. She spotted a shield on the ground near where Devon and Edmund stood and seized her moment; stealing and attaching it easily as Lysette hunted her down. Did she know how to wield it properly? Who knew, but she did know that her left arm felt like it was missing something whilst she fought and she knew she would only be balanced with a shield to hold on to. Or maybe hide behind. 

The additional heft on her arm briefly slowed her movements as she adjusted herself, but found she was filled with a renewed vigour, this is it, this is who she was. Sword and shield, this was the Elissa she should be.She parried Lysette's strikes and delivered a series of powerful shield bashes that pushed her adversary back awestruck. Both women, exhausted and battered, locked eyes in a moment of mutual respect. It would be shameful for Lysette to keep fighting an opponent who was obviously well trained but just not at their best, and thus she withdrew to not debase herself by continuing. 

“A draw for now then,” Cullen said as he dismissed the other recruits. “A testament to you both.” 

“A rematch though? In time?” Elissa called out to the Templar, who simply saluted to her again with a genuine smile on her face. 

Elissa waved goodbye to everyone before she sunk down to the ground, driving the sword into the ground and holding onto the hilt for balance. Cullen had someone bring over a water skin and offered it to her, which she thankfully accepted and guzzled down more than half the contents, only pausing to gulp an equal amount of air. 

“Would you like to hold a sword, he says, need to know if I’m trained, he says- truth of the matter is the Commander of the Inquisition is just a sadist with a cute smile,” she wheezed, emptying the remainder of the skin’s contents. Swinging and fighting with her staff was one thing, her muscles had become accustomed to moving in a completely different way and there were no jarring vibrations from the clash of steel to contend with. However, no matter how tired and sore she was, she could not remove the large smile off her face. 

Cullen knelt back down and rested his arm against his raised knee, a shy smile playing at his lips. 

Oh curse that scar, how is it right that a scar could add to someone’s looks? Bloody ridiculous.

“In truth, I had started with the intention for you to sit and maybe have something to eat, so you could rest and travel safely. I had not meant for you to massacre my troops so efficiently,” he admitted, massaging the back of his neck awkwardly. Elissa rolled her eyes comically and exhaled loudly, looking over the sheepish man. She proffered her hands out as a sign of peace and the Commander took them willingly, helping her up like she was just another training sword. She supposed wearing such heavy armour and swinging around weapons all day would tend to make one quite strong. 

Elissa took a moment to steady herself and did not relinquish her hold on the Commander’s hands, not that he seemed like he was in a hurry to reclaim them.

“At the very least, Commander, I had a lot of fun and we can now be sure of two things.”

Cullen looked at her and raised his eyebrows in wait for her revelation, quite aware he was still holding the Herald’s hands but in no rush to release her. She was tired after all, she may be unstable on her feet. 

“Whoever I was before I woke up here, I was a warrior. Whether that was to hide my magical abilities or if they were just dormant, I do not know,” she explained looking up at him, marvelling at how tall he seemed but if she was just bold enough to stand on her tiptoes... 

“And the second?” he queried, his voice naturally lowering, much to his surprise, as he tried to ignore how well her lashes framed her eyes.

“That as a warrior, I have in fact, held many, many swords,” she affirmed, her mouth spreading into a smile that spanned from ear to ear. 

Cullen let go of her hands and raised his own in defeat, releasing a peal of laughter loud enough for some nearby troops to hear over the din of the training yard. 

“You are impossible, Herald, even when exhausted you are impossible!”

Chapter 6

[vigilskeep]

Hi! Absolutely no pressure to answer this if you’re not feeling it, but the thing about Neve and Minerva inspired a thought, so! Do you have any thoughts about how Minerva would feel about any companions from the other games?

anders might as well be her brother or at least brother-in-law (derogatory, long-sufferingly affectionate). merrill gets respect for being smart and rational but i don’t know if they would get along, i think merrill is too honest and too unfocused, and minerva actually just isn’t enough of an intellectual for them to bond purely over their similar approaches to magic. fenris she would have an insane dynamic with and i think the only conclusion is for them to kiss toxically or something like that. she’s already had a threesome with isabela, who even aside from that is zevran’s favourite and therefore beloved. i think she would find varric amusing to talk to as long as the subject isn’t serious, mostly because he’s a flatterer and she loves flattery. sebastian she would approach with diplomatic poise but he’s far too leliana-coded and earnest for her to like at all. i really cannot imagine her holding a conversation with aveline

solas would be both interesting and irritating. dorian she unfortunately would truly not be able to stand. she wouldn’t be fond of vivienne precisely, but they are certainly very similar people who would understand each other extremely well. cassandra registers as a threat, as does the iron bull, for completely different reasons. blackwall is a curiosity, and i think minerva would actually quite enjoy the audacity of his lies especially when they come with such appreciation for the wardens. she would be initially wary of cole; minerva has come to be more comfortable with spirits after justice, but her fear of them and their associated magics is long-standing, and she would not like his revealing abilities anywhere near herself. sera she has a surprising number of opinions in common with, and while they’d bicker—minerva likes people to follow a chain of command, and sera would think she’s a bit uppity—i think they’d do alright. it’s only a shame neither of them would remember they were once in the alienage orphanage together, and that a loud baby with a tuft of blonde hair was once upon a time occasionally trusted to a young minerva’s arms

[croik]

I finished my first ever playthrough of Dragon Age Inquisition + Inquisition a while ago! I logged about 90 hours so I can say that I liked it, lol. I didn't know anything about the series before hand. Made an elven mage, and because I did not realize the game would assign me a surname, he bears the unfortunate name of Iorallin Lavellan (orz). BUT in the end I was very happy with him and I had a fun time with the game.

I romanced Dorian, I made Leiliana pope despite my best efforts. I ultimate decided to keep the Inquisition but I wasn't happy that the epilogue was basically "and then everyone left you except for fuckin Cullen" so if I play Veilguard I'll probably change that, if it's a choice you get to make. I'd rather imagine my lil dude bopping around each team member's pad from time to time rather than the Chantry's toothless dog.

Ultimately though, I think what I enjoyed most about the game were all the things I simply made up for myself while playing.

I didn't know any of the world building going in, so I didn't realize that "elf mage" was a significant choice for this story, but I'm really glad it worked out that way. All my favorite things while playing had to do with the elvish history and significance (I'm a basic elf bitch, sue me). I really like the argument I had with Dorian at one point about elves in slavery vs those in the slums. The extra layer of "this is a bad idea" to their relationship spiced it up even more. I made Levallan's ears as big as I possibly could and then decided that they are super sensitive, so much so that his favorite thing is to suck Dorian off while they get fondled. Which led to the natural conclusion that other elves view ears as huge and rounded as his as being an indication of promiscuity >:D. Personality wise I made Levallan as mild-mannered as I could, but I decided that Dorian was basically how he coped with all the pressure of being the Inquisitor, to an almost unhealthy degree. And now they're SEPARATED ;_;

I almost lost Sera fairly early on because I was too uptight for her (and also an elf), so after that I made it my mission to keep her happy. Which wasn't easy! But I really liked the idea of what their relationship was like in and around the cutscenes, and the careful balance my Inquisitor had to keep between wanting to bond with her as an elf, wanting HER to want to bond as an elf, and respecting that she's entitled to all her own opinions. It was an interesting project.

I liked Cassandra, Josephine, Vivienne, and Varric well enough. Didn't particularly care for Bull, Blackwall, Cullen, or Cole. But then of course there is SOLAS.

Solas was a lot of fun. Again I was really glad to be playing an elf, because of the insulting hilarity of Solas, the elf, telling me, the DALISH elf, "wow I thought you people all sucked but you're really cool and I have to adjust my perspective!" Thanks you piece of shit! lol. But I really did enjoy their relationship, the power dynamic of my character thinking they're approaching Solas with more knowledge of elvish culture than him, and then knowing already how wrong he was. I even accidentally gave Lavellan the Mythall mark. The thought of Solas meeting this dalish elf, proudly wearing HER mark of all things, growing to respect him but not enough to confide in him, was good fun. I can see why people really ship it, but I think I prefer the platonic relationship if he's the big bad now.

Honestly... that part was very underwhelming for me. I thought Tresspasser did a really awful job of setting that up, ultimately. Rando Qunari says "btw Solas is a bad guy, did you know?" and immediately all your dialogue options include "FUCK that guy he is a TRAITOR FOREVER." It did not explain his intentions or his villainy well at all, even as someone who knew it was coming. But maybe I missed stuff.

I'm not sure yet if I'll be getting Veilguard day one. None of the new companions look that compelling to me, but I did, again, play 90 hours of this game, so I can be reasonably confident I'll at least like the next one...? I'm kinda spoiled though and I want to hear what the optimum race/class choice for Rook is though, hahaha. Qunari female sounds pretty tasty since it's Tevinter but I dunno yet. I'll have to read up.

[greypetrel]

Sera and Solas for the opinions meme? c:<

Ooooooh you asked me to spill the tea!

Thank you for asking about the elves, I'm glad they can rest together hating on each other in this ask. uwu

Sera:

First impression: *starts singing Anarchy in the UK* Beside that, I didn't like her all that much at first. I liked her points of view, but playing as a Lavellan... At first it was a "Yeah but why you're so hostile". She grew on me like moss.

Impression now: I love her your honour, she's such a nuanced and complex characters, and with Dorian one of the most caring people around Inquisition, if you spend the time to build a good relationship with her. Her point of views on politics are genuinely good and much more rooted in reality than Solas' (for obvious reasons)

Favorite moment: Her whole set of reactions in Trespasser. The way she notices Inky is feeling all but well but still does her best to cheer them up and remind them that there is an after that they can shape how they want, she's there to help. The way she's genuinely worried sick for you and is there to help... It was the moment she became a ride or die for me. Also all her banters with Dorian. All of it.

Idea for a story: Anything expanding what we see of her character, really. Anything. Little things, her learning to cope and interact with an Inquisitor who is a mage and/or a Dalish, she spending time with the Chargers and finding the family she always lacked. Cookies experiments. Flirting with Dagna. Anything. Some expansion over her War Table mission and having Cullen saying "Do you know what, I'll do it. I'll send soldiers to hold drills as loud as possible under that noble's windows. Yes.".

Unpopular opinion: She's one of the most emotionally intelligent characters around. She is closed and abrasive, sure, but show her you care and are sincerely interested in having some kind of relationship with her and BOOM. Don't know how unpopular it is tho, LOL. And: she and Solas could actually get along and have more similar opinions that they would admit. It's just that Solas is not a people person (he's 24/7 screaming internally, there's no mental space for much else) and approaches her in the wrong way.

Favorite relationship: I'll say three. She and Dorian gives me life, you see the prince and the pauper going on and learning to live together and finding points in commons and enjoying each other's company. She and Cullen. I am sure Cullen is the one who has the most fun in the Red Jenny missions (not that he will admit it), and they are both commoners and simple people at heart. She sees right through the hard shell of pretending he's a serious knight of course no no he's the expert here, uh-uh. He's totally at level with the other advisors. She is there to take him down a notch. Also. She and Solas. Listen. They share quite some opinions. Sera is more rooted in the actual reality of things, while Solas just has theoretical knowledge. They say the same things and have a lot of things in common (both are solidly against the establishment, both renounced to position of richness to just go and play hobo, both are artists and imaginative. He's a marxist, she's an anarchist, but as above: she's rooted in reality, he isn't). Solas just chose the wrong way to approach her and doesn't know how to fix it, and she's not making a step towards him either.

Favorite headcanon: She's the little girl that got the painted box from the Warden in Denerim.

Solas:

First impression: I was heavily influenced by @karmicblackhole, who is the friend that brought me into the saga and my number one Solas authority. So I got to know him in theory before and came knowing who he is exactly. I was curious when I first play to see him finally in game.

Impression now: I like his character A LOT. Wouldn't romance him, I recognise the fascination but personally there's a "You're not like other girls" theme that is really not my cup of tea. Again, if you're not here from 5 minutes you all know I love him as a platonical friend figure, I love his character and I'm firmly convinced he may be your local trickster and obscure character... But a villain? Evil? No. Not at all. Man is going on of pure inertia screaming internally. And also he's the worst liar around Skyhold. Worst of them all. I sniffed there was something weird with Blackwall, but at least Blackwall doesn't let slip things about his past that don't add up with the story he told you and disapproves when you call him out.

Favorite moment: The last cutscene pre final battle when he's there panicking and asking you advices about how to deal with horrible mistakes. The façade cracks a little and he's just... A scared person not knowing how to fix his mess. Also the way he treats you in Trespasser if you had a positive relationship with him during the game. He's a cuor di panna, he's very tender, he's just so horribly bad at people.

Idea for a story: I am pondering from months on a short ficlet about him going back to watch the Inquisitor as time goes by. Because yes he may be resolved... But he's bad at plans. Also DadWolf, but I'm drawing/writing it. Basically, anything that lets him find something he may use to stop running in circles in guilt and self-commiseration and learn that hey, it went how it went that's ok.

Unpopular opinion: He's not a villain and he's not evil. I can see why people think of that and he's in that grey zone that's grey enough that he can easily fall in both parts... But in my opinion he's not. He's just panicking HARD and starved for human contact. Again, I can see why people treat him as a villain... But I think we saw him only up to the middle of his narrative arc. It would be like judging Cullen stopping at DA2 before the final battle and the mutiny. You can but we're all missing the second half of it. I may be wrong in my opinions and I read some great fics that has him as the villain. He could double, again, I just like to think that people are fundamentally good.

Favorite relationship: As above. Him and Sera. Him and Varric co-parenting Cole gives me life. I recently brought him on a mission with Blackwall and they had the funniest banter ever, BOTH sweating profusely and lying. x°D

Favorite headcanon: He's a huge softie and hugely touch starved and it will take very little to bring him back to the good side. Also, I'd love to see him... Doing something to the Veil and actually making elves mages. Also, he's a terrible hugger, but will appreciate being hugged greatly.

[thebonerpit]

For the question the thing 1, 7, 15, 23

Ooh thank you! Ok so this is for Tara Lavellan who is my canon Inquisitor going into Veilguard.

1.What is your Inquisitor's middle name? I've never really thought of one for her and I don't know if elves generally have middle names in Thedas?? I'm actually not sure! Tara is a nickname though and her full name is Tarasylanin which basically means "child of the storm".

7. Who was your Inquisitor's first friend in the Inquisition? She was "friendly" with a few people like Varric and Solas but I think her first actual friend would have been Sera. She liked that she was able to joke around with her and she spent a lot of time in the tavern in Haven just hanging out and drinking. It was kind of a relief to meet another regular person in the midst of commanders and diplomats and war heros.

15. Which companion is your Inquisitor closest to? Why? Ooh ok I want to do kind of a double answer for this. As of now it would be Dorian for sure. They clicked immediately and although there were multiple reasons for them not to get along and for her not to trust him, Dorian endeared himself to her very quickly and she would have his back any day. They are constantly flirting (obviously just as friends/for fun) and I always imagined them slinging increasingly lewd come-ons at each other on the library balcony much to Solas's digust below lol. My other answer is Blackwall but only before she found out about his deception. She kind of saw him as a bit of an older brother/father-type figure and looked up to him but after his lie was revealed the trust was completely gone and they were never as close again.

23. What has your Inquisitor been up to between Trespasser and Veilguard? Tara was not at all interested in being the Inquisitor and never felt comfortable in that type of role, so she disbanded the Inquisition. She searched for Solas for quite a while and found next to nothing, but Divine Victoria (who is hardened Leliana) promised to keep the search going through her spy network. She spent time with Sera as Red Jennies because she needed a BREAK ok. She also went back to her clan but soon realized that she had changed too much to stay with them for long (and didn't want to put them in any danger if people found out the Inquisitor was with them). Closer to Veilguard I think there may have been more signs of Solas but since everything was around Tevinter, Tara wasn't sure she wanted to go there both as an elf and as the Inquisitor. She sent word to Dorian and Maevaris though. Honestly I kind of pictured her bouncing around a bunch of different places to keep in touch with people, like meeting up with Bull and the Chargers to do a few jobs, sneaking in to the Winter Palace to gossip with Leliana, going to Kirkwall to see Varric, etc.