#it wasn’t about branka but oh

[shoutydwarf]

Fact is oghren loved branka in the way y’all can only put in fanfic & wattpad kidnapped by one direction stories. Oghren loved his paragon so much that he drove his entire house into the dust just for a CHANCE to fight for her. 2 entire years he spent banging on the doors of the assembly/palace demanding she not be abandoned. Of course it drove him to drinking and raging and drinking some more, he was taught that paragons are living GODS (pretty much) and was contending with the cruel, shattering reality that it’s been reduced to just face and politics. And there’s a lot to unpack about political corruption there but there is also a note to be made about how far into the abyss the darkspawn have pushed his proud people into over generations upon generations. He isn’t just mourning branka he is mourning honor and culture and religion. His OWN but also his PEOPLE’S. You’re not allowed to talk to him about it though uhh fart joke - here, hold that

[bluerose5]

A Sense of Belonging

[Yes, I definitely did write this after meeting Zathrian's clan because of all the condescension towards city elves. Darrian just needed some comfort. ;-; ]

Pairing: Darrian Tabris/Zevran Arainai

Word Count: 2,660

Also on Ao3.

It wasn't long after the sun had set when Wynne and Alistair retired for the evening.

Their fire crackled yet dwindled, casting an orange glow over their campsite. The light danced in the shadows, its arms outstretched towards the night sky.

Darrian raised his hands, palms facing the flames in an attempt to absorb whatever heat the fire could provide.

They remained on the outskirts of the Dalish camp, able to see yet unable to partake.

After all, they were outsiders. That much had been made apparent enough.

Before he could delve too deep into such thoughts, a blanket wrapped itself around his shoulders. Darrian startled, glancing up in time to catch sight of Zevran, only to have him burrow underneath the blanket against Darrian's side.

Settling in together, Darrian felt the tips of his ears warm. Zevran leaned his head upon Darrian’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around one another in a snug embrace.

For a moment, they were quiet, simply taking in the comfortable silence between them, their eyes fixated on the flames.

Then, Zevran spoke.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

Darrian snorted.

"When you say 'something,' do you mean am I thinking about how I had to venture into the Fade to save the Circle of Magi, or maybe you meant the whole part where we cured a human noble with some magical ashes from their dead prophet?"

"Don't forget the part where the infamous Grey Warden threatened to turn his lover into a golem," Zevran deadpanned. "Oh, how I enjoyed that part."

"Well…" Darrian sniffed in disdain. "I was just trying to make a point. That anvil is better off destroyed than in the hands of someone like Branka."

It wasn't really that hard of a decision.

Besides, after all she had done to those entrusted to her care, Darrian couldn't let her get away with it without some form of retribution.

The broodmother still haunted Darrian’s dreams. Every morning he awakened, he could still hear the ominous echoes of Hespith's poem.

He knew it was bad when those nightmares somehow managed to drown out even the whispers of the Archdemon.

Zevran tsked at him with a shake of his head.

"Yes, yes, I know. You made your point perfectly clear in the Deep Roads," he grumbled. "You and your heroic sentimentality."

"Aw, but Zev," he whined, grinning in spite of himself. "I thought you adore my heroic sentimentality, though."

When Darrian poked his bottom lip out into a pout, Zevran rolled his eyes at him with a fond smile.

"Perhaps a little," he allowed, leaning in to brush his lips along Darrian's. "Besides, I would say that you more than made it up to me back at camp."

How he delighted in watching that soft dusting of a blush spread from Darrian's ears to his cheeks.

"I only live to serve," Darrian joked, stealing a quick peck.

Zevran might have stolen one of his own in turn, and then another. This time, lingering.

As the kiss grew longer and more passionate, Darrian beamed each time one of them would pull away a little, only for the other to chase after their lips. Zevran could feel how Darrian’s lips curved against his with joy, unable to keep his heart from racing in response.

When they eventually parted, gasping for breath, Zevran chided, "Hey, now, that's my line."

"So you keep saying," Darrian sighed. He leaned his forehead against Zevran’s, dark brown eyes trained on golden brown. "But you do realize that I destroyed the Anvil because I abhor the thought of taking away anyone's free will?" He stared pointedly at Zevran. "Yours included. You always bring up your vow of service, yet you know I wouldn't ever hold you to that—"

As soon as Zevran tensed, Darrian knew that he struck a nerve. Zevran pulled away, grumbling while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"There you go again with that," Zevran said, his attempt at a casual, relaxed tone tainted by the underlying tension that always seemed to worm its way into his voice when they had this conversation. "You must really want me to leave if you're so eager to release me from my vow."

Darrian frowned.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Is it not?"

Darrian let out a frustrated groan, taking Zevran’s hand in his with a firm squeeze to demand his attention.

"Of course not," Darrian stated. "I just want you to realize that I want you here because of reasons beyond some vow of servitude."

“Ah, yes, but the problem lies within this simple fact.” Without warning, Zevran shoved Darrian back against the ground. He climbed into Darrian’s lap, straddling his hips with a coy smirk. He stole the blanket and draped it over himself, its soft folds cascading down around them both when Zevran leaned in to press a kiss beneath Darrian’s ear. A shiver shot down Darrian’s spine. Goosebumps spread out across his skin. Zevran’s words fanned out over Darrian’s throat like a sweet, gentle caress. “I happen to enjoy serving under you, amor.”

Darrian had to sink his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back a needy whimper when he felt Zevran’s fingers tease at the sliver of skin between his shirt and his trousers.

The instant Darrian squirmed beneath him, Zevran chuckled fondly.

“I–Is that so?” Darrian breathed.

“Mm-hmm…” Trailing off with a low hum, Zevran delivered a playful nip to Darrian’s earlobe. Darrian jolted when Zev gave it a sharp tug, followed by several kisses to soothe the area. “Then again, I’m not exactly a picky man. I enjoy servicing you from the top as well.”

Darrian couldn’t hold back his snort at that, covering his burning face with his hands as he fell into a fit of snickers and giggles.

Zevran watched him in awe. Bracing his hands upon Darrian’s chest, he sat back in his lap to get a better view of him, tracing idle patterns through the fabric of his shirt.

“That was terrible,” Darrian laughed, peeking at Zevran through his fingers. His eyes glistened with tears of happiness, sparkling with endless joy. It was so rare to see him in such a state. Zevran couldn’t help but to savor the moment, committing it to memory. “You insatiable man.”

“What can I say?” Zevran gave a half-shrug. “You bring out the best in me, my dear Warden.” He hesitated, but then reminded himself that he didn’t have to. Zevran knew well enough that any feelings he held for the Warden were returned in kind. “Just so you know, the reason why I’m so attached to my vow is because I absolutely adore being yours. I know that I am my own man, especially in your eyes, but there is simply something so irresistible about the idea of belonging to you…”

Stroking his hands up and down the expanse of Darrian’s chest, Zevran stared down at him through a hooded gaze. He parted his lips, desire taking hold of him.

“It makes my heart sing,” Zevran whispered.

Darrian swallowed under Zevran’s intense scrutiny, his breathing shaky.

When one of Zevran’s hands ventured close, Darrian grabbed it before it could move away, holding it to the center of his chest.

Beneath Zevran’s palm, he could feel Darrian’s heartbeat.

Darrian appraised him, admired how the remnants of their fire played off of his golden strands of hair. How the flames illuminated his profile, framing him in a halo of light.

The words slipped free without a thought.

“I love you,” Darrian said. It was a mere statement of fact and not the first time he had voiced such feelings.

Still, his confessions always managed to catch Zevran off guard.

Zevran tensed for a brief second, soon melting against him.

He then swooped in and crashed his lips against Darrian’s into a bruising kiss, fervent and passionate.

Darrian eagerly responded in kind, one hand finding its way into Zevran’s hair while his free arm wound its way around Zevran’s waist.

They panted harshly against each other’s mouths, deepening the kiss until the heat in their veins threatened to consume them.

They only managed to part when the need for air grew to be too much to handle. Even then, while they gasped to catch their breaths, they still managed a kiss or two in between each one.

For a while, they simply sat there, basking in each other’s presence. They whispered sweet nothings into each other’s skin to fill the silence.

But such a distraction could only last for so long.

Eventually, Darrian’s brow furrowed in a way that Zevran was all too familiar with. He stared at Zevran’s flushed, kiss-swollen lips; and in doing so, Darrian carefully avoided making eye contact with Zevran, focused instead on dragging his thumb along his bottom lip.

Usually, Zevran wasn't one to push, but it was hard to ignore when something was clearly bothering Darrian.

He eyed him for a moment before asking, "What troubles you, my dear?"

Darrian blinked owlishly at the question, as if awakened from a daze.

He glanced in the direction of the Dalish camp, contemplating his answer.

"It's just—"

Darrian waved his hand in a vague gesture, fumbling for the right words.

Fortunately —or, rather unfortunately— Zevran knew the disappointment brewing within those eyes all too well.

"It's simply not what you expected," Zevran said, finishing the thought aloud. At Darrian’s weary nod, Zevran sighed, settling in against his side. He laid his head upon Darrian’s chest, his ear pressed against the spot where his hand once rested. The rhythmic thumping of Darrian’s heart welcomed him. "I know that feeling all too well, amor."

Darrian grimaced.

"Yeah," he murmured, stroking his hand along Zevran’s back. "It's so frustrating, though, mostly because I'm upset at myself for getting my hopes up on some childish whim. My grandparents used to always send me letters from their settlement in Llomerryn. My mother used to always tell me great tales of growing up both among the Dalish and among the dazzling cities in Rivain. I thought that they would welcome us, that I—"

"Could have what she had," Zevran stated.

Darrian hesitated, staring up at the sky for a moment, and nodded.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled through his nose in a huff.

"The Alienage in Denerim…" He chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I miss my family, I miss my friends, but I don't miss the slums. I don't miss keeping my magic a secret or struggling for survival everyday." He trailed off, laughing bitterly. "I was like a wild beast in some of their eyes. A troublemaker, they called me, simply because I didn't want to lay down and accept our lot in life."

Darrian sniffed in disdain, but Zevran remained quiet while he traced patterns along his chest, allowing Darrian to air out these feelings as needed.

"I didn't have much choice to join the Wardens, but I felt so bad because my first thought when I got conscripted was that 'anywhere is better than here!'" He shook his head at himself, clenching his jaw. "Although, truth be told, even being a Warden doesn't feel all that fulfilling at times. It comes with a lot of power and responsibility, don't get me wrong, but the downsides often seem to overshadow the good that comes from it."

"So you don't feel at home in the only home you knew for years, and your sudden, unwilling career change turns out to carry more burdens than you signed up for," Zevran noted. "Then, to top it all off, you finally meet the renowned Dalish that you've heard so much about —the very people that you've dreamt would be your salvation…"

"Only to find out that they think that I'm an inferior 'flat-ear,' at worst," Darrian muttered. "Or in need of their saving and guidance, at best."

"You know," Zevran teased, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin. "This story is starting to sound very familiar to me. I wonder where I've heard it before."

Darrian snorted, running his fingers through Zevran’s hair.

"Are you saying that we're alike?"

"Probably more than you would care to admit."

"On the contrary," Darrian said, "I find it a compliment that you would compare the two of us. I think that's high praise indeed."

Zevran gaped at him, his face lit aflame as it was his turn to become flustered.

Which was saying something, considering the fact that Zevran was never the bashful type.

Leave it to Darrian to conjure such a rare reaction out of him.

Clearing his throat, Zevran eventually found his voice.

"You know," he said, "most people would be utterly offended at being compared to me."

Within the blink of an eye, Darrian had flipped them over with a wicked glint in his dark eyes, smirking at Zevran as he pinned his wrists to the ground. The blanket tangled itself around them, their hips pressed flush together.

"Good thing I'm not 'most people,'" Darrian countered. Soon enough, his expression softened. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Zevran’s ear. The instant his hand was within reach, Zevran nuzzled into his touch. "Besides, it makes sense."

"Does it now?" Zevran asked.

When Darrian leaned in to press his lips to Zevran’s throat, the latter arched his neck out on display with a content sigh.

Darrian’s lips traced along the curve of Zevran’s throat, kissing and nipping at soft skin.

"Mm-hmm…" Darrian murmured. "I know the others have their doubts because you're an assassin, but you make me feel safe. You make me feel special."

"Aha! So my master plan is working, after all."

Darrian flicked lightly at Zevran’s ear, earning a pout from the Crow.

"Ow!" Zevran cried out, ever dramatic. "Amor, please! Why must we result to such harsh blows?"

"As if you haven't asked for worse before."

"Ah, yes, but that was in the context of bringing me to your bed, or tent roll, as it may be."

"Okay, the moment's over."

"Wait," Zevran gasped, wrapping his arms around Darrian in a vice-like grip before he could move away. "I'm not finished listening to you sing my praises."

"Uh-huh." Darrian narrowed his eyes at him. "Will you behave this time?"

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

"Ugh." Darrian grumbled with a roll of his eyes, but no real heat remained in such a motion. If anything, he was trying to resist the urge to smile at his lover's silly antics. "Right. Well, all I was going to say was that, while I care for the others and all of my loved ones back in Denerim, I've never felt as if I truly belonged anywhere as I do when I am with you."

Zevran melted, all of his playfulness gone, replaced instead by a deep, all-consuming heat.

"Oh, is that all?" Zevran asked. In his attempt to come across as indifferent, his breathless tone betrayed him the second he spoke.

And of course, Darrian picked up on that in an instant.

Cupping his cheek, Darrian stared down at him, taking in every last detail.

A pressure built up within him until the words came spilling out.

"You are my home," Darrian stated. "And so long as you will have me, I will gladly remain by your side. Nothing will come between us."

Overcome by a sudden onslaught of emotions, Zevran dragged Darrian down into a tight embrace. He clung to him, burrowed into Darrian’s arms, as if the slightest bit of distance between them would mean their end. He shoved his face into the crook of Darrian’s neck, carefully hidden from view.

He didn't know what had come over him, but Zevran knew one thing and that was that he needed to hold Darrian close.

He needed him to hear the sincerity with which he spoke.

"Nothing," Zevran vowed, making the promise to both Darrian and himself.

[sinsbymanka]

I'd really love your opinion of Solas, actually. (Ignore this if you have a visceral dislike of him ;))

I’m back on my “Break a Character Down” bullshit! Sorry for the wait friend <3 and thank you for the ask!

How I feel about this character

SOLAS. 

I’m actually going to talk about the first time I played the game as a little Cadash and how much she fucking loved her friendly Pajama elf. Solas went EVERYWHERE with me. He explained stuff to my Cadash and I fucking never saw it coming. 

Oh I SHOULD have. All that fade bullshit. He had me fooled but I am onto his tricks now. 

I love the version of Solas that exists within the game and in my fanfiction. I think he can be interpreted a lot of different ways - some of which I do not vibe with at all - and he’s a popular character so of course he’s interpreted over and over again. 

I think Solas is a sad, lonely man burdened with great regret and desperate to connect with people even though he knows he shouldn’t. I think he is a mournful villain who wishes he wasn’t a villain. I think he feels completely alone in the universe and I want to hug him. 

And then shake him because he keeps making the same stupid mistakes over and over again. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Mostly thanks to fucking @blarfkey there’s not many people I don’t ship with Solas. Here are some of my favorites: 

Solas/Cadash: Okay so if I have a Solas OTP this is it. I LOVE Solas and a dwarf. The Dwarven empire existed at the same time as the Elven Empire - although I’m sure it looked much different. But Solas knows dwarves and seems to mourn the things they have lost as much as he mourns the things elves have lost. I like the complicated relationship he has of watching a dwarven LI who COULD have been prospering in a society he remembers reduced to being a criminal. I want him to feel that regret for a culture not his own. Also. Size kink. I REST MY CASE. 

Solas/Varric Tethras: Solas has dialogue with all companions about change and power - and if you listen to the full streams he “Wins” the conversation with almost every companion. But Varric catches him off guard and talks about the importance of surviving and appreciating with you have and letting go of regrets and I DON’T KNOW I think Varric could save this bald elf bastard I REALLY Do. 

Solas/Cadash/Varric: This is my fandom pool noodle and I will beat people with it. It’s the best of both ships above and Solas deserves a dwarf sandwhich. 

Solas/Dorian: God they’re both nerds and the way they talk to each other is SO good. There’s so much underlying respect and sympathy and admiration and then the cattiness. I love Solas inspiring Dorian to become a rebel leader in Tevinter and Dorian trying to talk Solas down. 

Solas/Josephine: God she’s so soft and fierce and I think he admires her a lot. Also there’s a bunch of cute dialogue about him going to dinners with her. @blarfkey wrote a great shippy fic for this PLEASE READ IT. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Solas & Lavellan: I SAID IT. I don’t vibe with the specific Solavellan romance, but I love the idea of them being friends. Platonic Solavellan can DEFINITELY be my jam. 

Solas & Cole: I like Solas and Cole a lot - I feel like nobody understands them as well as they understand each other and it’s really cute and I love how protective Solas is of him. 

My unpopular opinion about this character

God he is so smart and so stupid. I think he’s honestly on a path of self-destruction to punish himself for all his mistakes and desperately needs someone to stop him before he fucks everything up. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

The fact that his romance was both Gender and Race locked is a crime. 

I understand the concerns about “duplicitous bisexual” stereotypes, but I think that Solas is the kind of sympathetic villain rep any sexuality would be glad to have (and don’t @ me I am bisexual and I’m not taking comments) 

I also am well aware that the race-locking could have been due to crunch - which is a widespread problem in the gaming industry. But I think it’s very important to note one of the most compelling and narratively satisfying love interests in the entire dragon age series is only available to the player origin characters with the skinniest game model. IMO that’s clear evidence for a bias against other body types within development, even if that was not the intention, that should be addressed in future games. 

Anyway I’m doing these breakdowns again, if you want to send them. I’ve done so far:

Velanna

Bianca Davri

Maria Cadash

Varric Tethras

Solas

Sitting in my inbox:

Branka 

[felassan]

Thoughts on Dark Fortress #3

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

There’s a lot I thought/wanna say about this final issue, to the point that it’s hard to know where to start!

The cover art is.. beautiful. The symbolic allusion between Shirallas and the dragon (his draconic-y claws, the semblance of a broken collar falling off in the same way, the fire) 👌 On the whole, lined up side-by-side the three covers of Dark Fortress feel really thematically cohesive. Shirallas’ and the dragon’s claws echo Tractus’ sharp metal gauntlet, and as well as the similarities between the dragon and Shirallas, both Tractus and the dragon have a circle of weapons, and the patterning encircles Tractus’ neck and wrists like the collars and shackles. Y’know, like you can just really tell the cover artist planned ahead and put a lot of thought into how the 3 cover arts would ‘flow’ from one to the other, blending elements between them.

I posted some of my fav panels here.

I knew he was my boy but Shirallas’ backstory broke my heart ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) the first panel is so bleak and heart-wrenching. the burning aravel parts.. another Dalish clan met a terrible fate.

I wonder if his clan wandered Tevinter like Clan Oranavra? it makes me wonder if Shirallas and Fenris met in Tevinter. It’s nice to see that another clan took him in. And if Shirallas is a name he took, not his original name, I assume it has a special meaning, maybe to do with his quest for justice/vengeance. Shiral means journey, “allas” is found in vallas, which means set, as in the sun. The “vallas” in vallasdahlen (life-trees, planted in remembrance of those who dedicated their lives to the Dales) means life. in many ways the sun and life are the same thing, and there’s the obvious connection to Elgar’nan, eldest of the sun. So journey/quest - sun/life? Like since the loss of his clan he’s on a journey/quest for the rest of his life to get justice/vengeance, which are attributes of the sun god Elgar’nan? that became his life’s purpose and his direction of ‘travel’ ever since his loss, what he dedicated his life to since then. :’( 

Elgara vallas, da'len. ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

This is our first look at the vallaslin application process, no? what Shirallas is saying in this panel is the Song to Elgar’nan. it’s interesting, in that that prayer kind of resembles what happened, or almost happened, in this issue. a fortress shaken, fire, winged death (a dragon), pretenders to power, “strike the usurpers” (“Red Wraith, dispose of my enemies, kill the traitorous mage”). pretty cool right?

⬇️ me two months ago, look at the tags in red brackets. 

oh my son.. Dalish father roams, and the Dalish son won’t survive the fight   ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

the panel where Fenris and Shirallas shake hands ;; to which experience is Fenris speaking of, I wonder? once upon a time he saw Anders almost lose himself in his own quest for Justice/Vengeance for the mages.

Parallels between Shirallas succeeding in proving himself to Nenealeus and when Fenris succeeded in proving himself to Danarius all those years ago - compare. ;__; an elf surrounded by bodies of people he’d killed to prove himself, and a horrible Magister telling him “well done”.

I love the design of the sword and its use as a ‘divider’ on the first page splitting up the panels is both smart and beautiful. even here there’s pink light around it, the dragon’s fire

overall I wasn’t expecting this issue to begin with flashbacks to Shirallas’ past and backstory, so this whole page caught me off-guard

omg look at the red lyrium ‘veins’ under Shirallas’ skin. when he emerges from the sarcophagus that is a very cool picture of his face

Nenealeus has been taking beard-styling advice/trends from the dwarves

check out the sword crackling and reforming as Shirallas makes contact with it. is the red lyrium under his skin moving in this scene?

in the panel of Vaea running away from the dragon, it’s nice that as she runs Fenris is still behind facing the dragon, to protect her

gorgeous background in the panel with Marquette, and his expression is one of Regret for what he just did and for his part in all this. the dawning realization that I’ve Fucked Up Big Time

as Nenealeus’ weapon is a sword, does he have some Knight Enchanter-adjacent skills (I don’t expect the actual KE artform is exclusive to southern Circles only)? it’s a physical item ofc, not a summoned one. staffs are infused with lyrium to provide a conduit for a mage’s power. so then, mages can channel power through other [presumably similarly-infused] weapons too, not just mage staves/staff-like magic implements or their bare hands

given the color of Nenealeus’ magic and the fact that the dragon was under the control of his magic, it now makes sense to me why the dragon’s fire is that color! o:

Marius is badass (nice touch that his shoulder is smoking pink with the effects of one of Nenealeus’ magic attacks here) and the four panels where everyone’s grim and determined, facing off against each other and Venatori goons made me feel quite emotional. Aaron is Team Dad.. it’s nice to see him having a friendship / paternal moment with Francesca both acknowledging her pain and power while also giving her a pep talk. You can tell when he says too “We all need to do whatever we can in this moment” that he’s talking about himself too and may already be thinking one or some of them aren’t going to make it out of there

Francesca GO OFF!! she’s so powerful, and it’s really cool every time seeing her plant magic in action. it puts in perspective how powerful Velanna would have been with her similar skills (skills like Thornblades), and I enjoy the contrast of the fire in the background and the blue/green of Fran’s magic in action

Fenris is so cool-headed in high-octane combat situations, quickly taking stock, assessing and realizing the odds then coming up with a plan. the look on Vaea’s face when she’s like >:( wtf u can’t just leave is cute

cool pulled-back bird’s eye shot of the Fortress

Karasten continuing with the sass about Tevinter even during a siege

Fenris speaking Qunlat! I love that they brought this lore fact into play and had him make use of this skill, it’s a neat reminder of Fenris’ exchange with the Arishok if you take him into the compound in DA2. in the opening-up the gates scene, Vaea’s worried about letting the Qunari in and going to the Qunari (from her expression), but she trusts Fenris and his judgement enough to open the gate and see what happens

I like that Tessa’s bolts are fletched the blue of her accent color

chills at the panel where Shirallas is walking out of the flames advancing on Aaron. Ser Aaron, who never retreats, not at Ostagar, not now ;__;

the battle-scenes are beautiful, fast-paced and gory, chaotic and colorful, like it would feel to be there 

Fenris then puts himself between Aaron and Shirallas. I could hear “I will deal with this Red Wraith” in my head

Autumn can look so scary. a true mabari warrior! when she leapt towards Shirallas I was Stressed for her safety despite knowing rationally that they wouldn’t kill their dog!

the horizontal combat splash page is awesome

CLEVER GIRL Autumn. she and Fenris are in sync in this sequence.

Shirallas serving super saiyan vibes with the bulk, strength, hair

Fenris bargaining for Fran’s life and then trusting her to use her magic as part of the attack on the Red Wraith

lmao Ser Aaron

smart thinking Fran

Aaron praising her ;__;

Marius was straight-up prepared to die to stop Nenealeus ;__; poor Tessa in this exchange

the face-melting scene  👌

“Ah, Marius... I knew it would come down to the two of us”: this panel is just really cool? Nenealeus looks almost congenial here, which makes him seem all the more colder and more dangerous. and the burning bodies strongly remind me of the bodies at the start of Inquisition which are at the ‘blast point’ of the Breach at the Conclave

when Marius and Vaea’s eyes meet and they formulate the backup plan  👌

nice to see ‘staff’-less magic in action. Nenealeus is clearly a very powerful mage. when he’s frying Marius he has Star Wars Palpatine and force lightning vibes

OH VAEA... you did it, but my heart hurts that she had to kill someone for the first time, even though it was foreshadowed by her discussion with Marius in a earlier issue. & Nenealeus’ look of surprise as he dies says it all

it’s a serious moment but Marius now looks like a cat that stuck its paw in a socket hh

when Nenealeus is doubled over dead, it’s a great panel- the white background taking us out of the chaos that’s going on all-around for just a moment, showing the seriousness of what’s just transpired for Vaea and the realization of it setting in. a pause, the shock. & it’s nice to see Marius being soft with someone other than Calpernia or Tessa

but despite what’s just happened Vaea is still Vaea, she’s concerned about life and immediately wants to save the dragon. I like the part where panels of Vaea and Fran ‘face’ each other as they have this discussion, a lot.

in the moment that it takes off, does the dragon realize Vaea is responsible for saving its life? the ‘eye’ panel feels like an acknowledgement from it, or between the two

Fran’s magic destroying and sinking the sarcophagus into the ground reminds me of what in-world lore says happened to Arlathan, in a way

omg they have to stop Shirallas before he gets over 9000

do you think when Aaron says “We cannot retreat” he’s thinking of Loghain’s retreat at Ostagar?

at this point btw I’m pleasantly surprised that Marius survives, I had sort of expected him to die in this issue

oh Marquette, curiosity killed the cat dontcha know

new lore just dropped: the Red Wraith is able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword have a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

Paragon Branka reference! and later on a Black Marsh reference

:’( As soon as Aaron launched into his story at this point my stress levels went through the roof and I knew it was Time. and then - well. you know :’((( Aaron had death flags in previous issues, so I was logically prepared and not surprised by the occurrence (this isn’t a bad thing btw), but I still wasn’t EMOTIONALLY PREPARED

mfw

nooooooooo.... It was at this point everyone that I burst into tears.. i have never Ugly Cried at a comic before so that was a new experience.. It’s hard to put my feelings about this into words bc rly it just straight-up destroyed me, u know.. Vaea’s “Don’t leave me”, Aaron’s tears when he knows the deed is done, his pendant.. surely the resemblance between the way he looks on this cover and the way he looks in the panel when he’s falling and Vaea is shouting “Aaron!” is intentional. i’m just destroyed okay

On the next page, holes in Shirallas’ shirt where his wounds were before they healed is a nice touch. Autumn’s bite here must surely be shattering the bone in his lower leg. then as if i wasn’t in enough pain already - being separated from the weapon, did that bring Shirallas back to himself for a while? His “Friend?” and the look in his eyes when he looks up at Fenris is so pitiful :’( for a moment just before the end he’s the boy in the wood surrounded by his burning clan again. RIP Shirallas son, we barely knew ye but I loved u :’(((

Having Marquette escape is a smart choice, it means there’s someone still kicking around Thedas who knows what happened here and what went down. maybe we seek him out in the next game when trying to follow up on the plot-thread of the idol/red lyrium/its capabilities/Venatori/Qunari? anyway, can’t help but admire, in a fashion anyway, someone who dips out to save their own skin, and his attempted grift when he’s talking to Tractus x)

we hadn’t seen the last of Tractus indeed. there he is! “This is me, crying over our loss” - he’s such an edgy boi

THE IDOL

“Oh, you mean this idol?” feels like they’re breaking the fourth wall and deliberately teasing us x)

when Fenris says “[stay clear of it] Red lyrium can do things with your mind” I wonder if he’s thinking of his experiences with things like Bartrand and Meredith

started to cry again at the final Aaron scenes ok.. when it pans back to Vaea and Autumn on the shore with the dying Aaron, they look so small and lonely set against the backdrop of the gray rock, windy shore, jagged outcrops. it’s a beautifully poignant and incredibly forlorn backdrop for this scene. Autumn in these panels, and again the parallel between Aaron lying here and him on that cover page.. ;; the whole scene is raw and gutwrenching. even in death Aaron was thinking about Vaea, apologizing that she had to take a life, outlining his hopes that she continues to have a positive future and doesn’t descend into any kind of darkness. the fact that all this time he’s carried around a letter addressed to King Alistair in his pocket, to recommend that Vaea be knighted, the fact that he’s crying too, the pendant, the tenderness between them, how proud Aaron is of Vaea, the fact that he goes out telling a story and smiling because he’s so proud of her, here at the end Aaron is filled with pride and looks at peace.. i can’t ( ok i cried again on this re-read when writing this post, Dad Stuff is the ultimate way to get me ok.. don’t look at me _(°:з」∠)_ )

Vaea IS more than worthy. I’m so glad someone recognizes that and sees it in her. King Alistair WOULD knight her, and there’s a beautiful poetry in that fact as the son of an elf. there’s also something poetic in that, if Vaea becomes the first elven knight of Ferelden, well it echoes the Emerald Knights of old in a way. that’s beautiful. I’m very proud of Vaea.

Here we see another parallel - when Francesca is comforting a crying Vaea as her father figure passes away, it directly echoes when Vaea comforted Francesca when she was crying after her own father died. 

Aaron’s hometown of Portsmouth is a real place in England

I’m happy to see Fran and Autumn continuing to travel with Vaea, and Fenris continuing to keep his promise to Aaron to keep Vaea safe, and that Cassé is now Fran’s horse (that’s a lovely touch considering she healed him in Blue Wraith, a full-circle moment)

Fenris is right, they were family. soft supportive Fenris, with emotional intelligence ;; (and he of all people knows about Found Family)

the last panel of Vaea crying is beautiful too, the sun is rising in the east after the terrible night they’ve had, and the ‘faded’ rectangles is a great style/composition choice

even Cassé the horse looks sad

the scene of Fran and Vaea riding double with Fenris smiling in the background is super cute, and I love that the last we see of the party is them honoring Ser Aaron by telling stories like he did, of his exploits. I hope they always tell stories of Ser Aaron ;;

I’m glad Tessa made it out okay, she’ll be able to return to Charter. 💜 I was a bit worried this wouldn’t be the case

the last page DBKGRRGRKRKGREKF 

Pour one out for Ser Aaron Hawthorne of Portsmouth, Knight of Ferelden.

---

A recap on wider plot-points

The Qunari Antaam have taken control of Castellum Tenebris, and Neromenian has fallen to their advance.

The sarcophagus is broken and has been buried deep in the ground. Francesca asserts that it won’t be found.

The Inquisition agents retrieved the broken shards of the weapon, and are going to take its remains to the shadow Inquisition.

Tractus Danarius is alive and in possession of the idol, or was at the timepoint of this comic. He wants to use it to impress the Venatori remnants so that he can rejoin them. Marquette thinks, or said that he thinks (could easily be a bluff or his lack of knowledge about it compared to someone like Solas), that it doesn’t work anymore. (I’m leaning towards it does still work, otherwise why would Solas be interested in it?)

Solas, in what looks kinda like his most recent DA4 trailer gear, was watching the events of this series/arc the whole time and knows what happened. He knows Tractus has the idol. None of the people in this comic plot are “People Solas doesn’t know”. And it seems that he is able to use eluvians to watch people.

There’s a chance that Tractus Danarius is the mage in Tevinter Nights, from Dread Wolf Take You - the mage from House Danarius who went with some slaves to Nevarra to use the idol to perform a ritual with the Mortalitasi. That mage wanted to change the world to help fight the Antaam’s invasion. In the tale at least, he used the idol, a rift opened, the Dread Wolf popped out and killed him. At the time of that ritual the idol was still working.

+ some new lore -

the Red Wraith was able to heal from any wound, which is notable, and he and the sword the idol created had a.. symbiotic relationship? with each other. “He feeds energy to the sword from the red lyrium in his veins. And in turn, the sword heals his wounds.” What are the lore implications of this? Just what is red lyrium capable of?

eluvians can be used to watch people. not just to communicate over long distances or as portals between places

Lastly I don’t know what to do with myself anymore as this is the end of a long-running DA arc and was the final piece of [currently-known about] new canon Dragon Age content that we’ll get.

[thessalian]

Molly!Warden vs Cultists, Again

Molly: So I cleared out the darkspawn and dragon cultists move in. Lovely.

Finn: You ... know these people?

Molly: Not these specific ones, but the general type. There were a bunch of people around the Temple of Sacred Ashes worshipping a high dragon there.

Ariane: Why do people want to worship dragons?

Finn: Big and powerful and fire-breathing!

Molly: Or, like, there was something more to that “Tevinter Old Gods looking like dragons” thing than anyone was letting on. I mean, I know Flemeth - your Asha’bellanar - turned into a dragon and she probably wasn’t human or even abomination so maybe gods aren’t actually gods but just really powerful people who like being worshipped Because Reasons?

Finn; Ariane: ....................

Ariane: That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. My gods are real!

Finn: The Chantry teaches--

Molly: And, see, that’s why I might actually be better at deciphering this theology nugshit than people who actually grew up with ... religion, y’know? I don’t do gods. We don’t have ‘em. We have ancestor-worship. ‘Cos, see, I’m a Paragon now, okay? And what that means is that someday, dwarves are going to venerate me. Like they do Branka - who was a lunatic - and Caridin - who was a bit of a meeble-merchant, if you ask me, but he was stuck in a golem so had reason to be...

Finn: ...wut...

Molly: Long story; I’ll tell you more once we’ve got this mirror thing sorted. Anyway, point is, I know how it is to worship people as kind of like gods and if they have magic, I figure actually gods is a logical step to take. All we’ve got is the words of people who wrote down stuff all flowery in a “history is written by the victors” sort of way, or tales passed down from hahren to hahren for generations and probably getting twisted on the way--

Ariane: What do you know about hahren?

Molly: I spent, like, weeks with the Dalish clan that helped me get to the Archdemon; it was a thing. Anyway, I’m just saying that sometimes, myths get it wrong.

Valterral: REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Ariane: That’s ... a valterral. They’re a myth. They’re supposed to protect us.

Finn: He looks like he wants to make you part of his balanced diet, though. That doesn’t sound very protective to me.

Molly: See? Sometimes myths get it wrong. Now, maybe we should commence stabbing?

Dragons: RAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Molly: Aaaaaaaand of course these get in on the act. Okay, swords for everyone, c’mon!

Finn: Good. This is less confusing than the philosophy, anyway.

And, way down in the Nest

Molly: Oh, yeah, There’s your eluvian. I see why I missed it before. It was hard to see past Boobmother and her All-Star Tentacle Revue.

Finn: It’s glowy! I have to study it!

Ariane: Nope. Let the Warden talk to Morrigan alone.

Finn: But...

Ariane: You know that spell Molly likes it when you do against mages?

Finn: Mana Clash, yes...

Ariane: She has to have seen that done by some mage to know about it. And this Morrigan travelled with her to end the Blight. So...

Finn: Oh. ...Oh. Okay, yes, staying back is a good idea.

And, over by the eluvian

Molly: Hey, salroka; what’s shapin’?

Morrigan: Does “do not follow me” mean something different to the dwarves?

Molly: Hey, look, I just wanted to know how the kid is and if you’re doing okay. And it looks like you’re ... shopping for extra-planar real estate. I mean, I guess so long as you’re not having to yell at rage demons to get off your lawn.

Morrigan: ......I missed you. But I still have to go. Things are going to be happening, and changing, and I need power, and the safety to build it. Also you probably didn’t actually kill Flemeth but that’s alright; she probably can’t be killed by regular means anyway.

Molly: ...I have theories now but I’ll probably keep those to myself because Ariane would probably soil her smalls. Speaking of which, she’s been meebling about this book--

Morrigan: Ah, forever doing errands for others. I have what I need from it, so I leave that with you. And a gift.

Molly: You had a gift for me all ready to go, in someplace I slaughtered the broodmother of all broodmothers and wouldn’t want to go back to ... and you didn’t think I would follow you here?

Morrigan: “Do not follow me” might mean the same to most dwarves as it does to others, but to you, it means “do everything but throw a bon-voyage party”.

Molly: *pulls some confetti out of a belt pouch and flings it in to the air* Bon voyage, salroka. But just before you go, how is the kid.

Morrigan: Innocent. I’ll try to keep him that way for as long as the world lets me.

Molly: I’ll let Alistair know. He’ll be at least a little curious.

Morrigan: I ... I find I...

Molly: You hate the mushy stuff so I’ll just tip you a little wave and turn around so you can leave without it getting weird.

Morrigan: Perhaps you understand me better than I realised. Farewell.

Exit Morrigan, not pursued by anybody

Finn: ...can I study the mirror now?

Molly: Out or I will shove your face into the Boobmother corpse.

Finn: Going! Going!

Ariane: ...book?

Molly: This is yours, and this is mine, and we are leaving before more nasty shows up.

Ariane: What did she leave you?

Molly: I ... will let you know as soon as I figure that out. So half-past never, probably. Out.

((And thus ends Molly Brosca’s tromp through Thedas! Now I am going to bed and dream of what I might end up liveblogging next. I still have an eye on Meep!Warden...))

[ironbullsmissingeye]

The Deep Roads

A commission for the lovely @chillyrose

NSFW under the cut

.

-

The Deep Rods were dark, cold, and creepy, everything that Xaviera would have preferred to avoid. Xaviera knew she needed to be down here to find Branka and get her support for the new king, and hopefully get Orzammar’s help against Loghain. Xavier was just glad she wasn’t alone, Leliana and Wynne had also joined her, as had Alistair. Having them there was a small comfort, especially with how unknowing the Deep Roads could be, no one knew what would be around the next corner, or lurking in the shadows. Grey Warden’s could sense Darkspawn, but that didn’t make it any easier to navigate.

The small gang had made a camp to recuperate. They had been walking for hours, they weren’t even sure they were heading in the right direction, everything looked the same. This respite could allow them to look at the maps and determine where they were and what they were close to. Xavier knew this would be a big task, she just didn’t realise how big. The Deep Roads really were unending, it felt like they could walk forever and never find Branka. Xaviera sat on her bedroll and took a deep breath, just for a moment, she could rest, catch her breath.

Alistair watched Xaviera from a short distance, he could see her brain working overtime, trying to figure everything out. He could see the exhaustion on Xaviera’s face, he worried about her, especially since they now had a romantic connection. Leliana and Wynne had gotten themselves comfortable on their own bedrolls, they also needed the rest. Alistiar knew they’d be at the camp for a while so he decided to take the opportunity to have some time with Xaviera, it was so rare they got even a second to themselves, he wanted to grab any chance he got to be with her without anyone interfering.

Alistair approached Xaviera and held his hand out to her. “Join me on a walk?” He asked, a small smile on his face.

“That sounds lovely.” Xaviera took Alistair's hand and was pulled to her feet. “I hope we don’t get lose.” She giggled.

Alistair squeezed Xaviera’s hand. “At least we’d be together...come on.”

Alistair and Xaviera began to walk, they didn’t plan to go too far, but far enough that they could have some privacy, away from Wynne’s prying eyes. Alistair held Xaviera’s hand tightly, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. They didn’t say much to each other, they just walked and enjoyed each other's company. They took a turn and found a small archway in the stone, inside was what seemed to be a bedroom made of stone. A large bed made out of stone sat in the middle of the room, two bookshelves, a desk, and some old pots.

“Wow!” Xaviera entered the room and looked around. “Would you look at this? It must be hundreds of years old!”

“It’s amazing.” Alistair followed her in. “I wonder if the bed is comfortable?” He took a seat on the edge of the bed and lay back.

“Is it?” Xaviera giggled when she looked over at him.

“Well...it’s a lot nicer than the Mabari kennels.” Alistair patted the bed. “Come join me?”

Xaviera climbed onto the stone bed and lay down next to Alistair. She let out a surprised hum. “Weirdly comfortable...no worse than the bedrolls.”

Alistair turned his head and admired Xaviera as she lay next to him. “You’re so beautiful.” Alistair whispered, he wasn’t sure why he whispered it. He moved in a little closer to her, lying up on his elbow. “I love you.”

“O-oh...I love you too…” Xaviera lifted her arms and wrapped them around Alistair’s neck and pulled him down into a gentle kiss.

The tone of the kiss changed quickly, for something sweet and soft to passionate and needy. How long had it been since they were able to lay together and not worry about the other’s hearing them? Maybe this is what they needed, the chance to be alone, to be physical. They began to undress each other, removing each layer of clothing and letting them drop to the floor. Xaviera gasped when the cold evening air swept over her bare skin. Alistair leaned forward and began to kiss her neck, pressing his lips lightly to her neck. Her nipples were hard and perked as she lay on the old stone bed. Alistair slid one hand up Xaviera’s stomach to her breast and cupped it gently in his hand.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered into her neck, his thumb gently rubbed against her nipple, playing with it slowly. His face nuzzled into her neck. Alistair may have only just lost his virginity but he knew Xaviera’s body.

“Oh, Alistair…” Xaviera hummed quietly, biting into her lip. Alistair’ hand slipped between her legs, the tip of his finger gently rubbing back and forth against the delicate satin that covered her. Xaviera trembled at his touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, her knees buckling as he rubbed her sensitive clit and bit into her neck. This made Xaviera gasp again. “Oh...Alistair!”

Xaviera moaned, closing her eyes tightly. The tip of his index finger now pressed to her uncovered clit, he rubbed it slowly, his fingers moving in slow gentle circles. Xaviera moaned loudly, biting into her lip, she leaned her body up against Alistair. He grinned slightly and began to rub his fingers a little faster. Xaviera thrust her hips back and forth, grinding again Alistair’ hand roughly. Xaviera’s breaths were short and loud, her gentle moans echoed around the room, making Alistair’ heart skip little beats and butterflies circling around in his stomach. His breath was hot on Xaviera’s skin, his touch was gentle, his hand left her breast and slowly slid down her body.

“I want you,” Alistair whispered gruffly “I need you.”

“I want you too.” Xaviera placed her hands onto Alistair’s chest, Alistair leaned down and kissed Xaviera gently, again. She leaned into it but kept her hands busy, rubbing her hands over Alistair’s hard and toned torso. Feeling the outline of muscles and abs. She felt Alistair’s erect cock pressing against her leg when their bodies pressed together.

“Eager as always.” Xaviera giggled and slowly began kissing Alistair's body until she reached his member. She looked up at him and winked. His erect cock stood before her face, she wasted no time and took it into her mouth. Alistair sucked in sharply through his teeth as Xaviera’s warm mouth wrapped around him.

“Oh…” Alistair moaned loudly. He placed his hand onto the top of Xaviera’s head and tangled his fingers into her hair with a loud groan. Alistair leaned his head back against the bed and she began. She took most of his large member into her mouth, taking his balls into her hands. Xaviera moaned around Alistair’ cock and took the exposed length of his member into her hand. She twisted and rubbed slowly, massaging his balls in her free hand.

“Oh...wow....” Alistair groaned with a grunt, his hips bucking forward a little. Xaviera moaned softly, Alistair’ cock vibrated in her mouth. Xaviera looked up at him with her bright eyes, pulling another soft moan from Alistair. He took a tight fistful of her hair into his hand, holding onto it tightly but not enough to hurt her. Xaviera took more of him into her mouth then began to bob her head back and forth, both her hands still massaging him as well as her tongue as it wandered over his thick shaft and veins. Alistair pushed his hips forward, pushing more of himself into Xaviera’s mouth, she gagged a little but then moved her head back, the forward again.

Xaviera slowly pulled Alistair’ member from her mouth, causing him to whimper loudly. She lifted her head and smiled at Alistair flirtatiously and kissed up his body again until their lips met once more. He kissed her roughly, passionately, wrapping his arms around her slender body. Xaviera smiled into the kiss and placed her hand on Alistair’ back, she spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him in close. Alistair smiled back when he felt Xaviera’s lips curve, she parted her lips and allowed Alistair to slide his tongue into her mouth slowly. Their tongues danced together, wrapping and rubbing each other. Soft, tender, and passionate, just the way they both liked it. Alistair slid his hand down Xaviera’s back and gently cupped her rear, giving the cheek a light squeeze.

“Alistair…” Xaviera laughed into the kiss then slowly pulled away.

“I want you,” Alistair groaned, nuzzling his face between Xaviera’s breasts, his hands rubbing up and down her ribs. “I want you so much.”

“Then take me,” Xaviera groaned, placing her hand gently onto the back of Alistair’ head, tangling her fingers into his long hair. “For now, there is only you and me...my love.”

Alistair took hold of his member and angled it to Xaviera’s hot, wet, entrance. He gently pushed the tip against her, taking a deep breath as he pushed in slowly. Xaviera threw her head back, her legs tightening around Alistair' hips tighter. Alistair pushed in every inch of himself, looking down into Xaviera’s eyes as he did. She looked back up at him, her mouth hanging open a little as she breathed heavily. After a few moments, Alistair began to rock his hips back and forth. He took it slow and gently, not wanting to rush or ruin it for them. Xaviera moaned softly, keeping her hands tangled in Alistair’ hair as he continued to gently make love to her. Their bodies slowly moved together, their moans cried out in unison as they held each other tightly. Once he was sure she was comfortable Alistair picked up the pace, moving his hips harder and quicker. Xaviera gasped loudly as he toes curled tightly, her hand pulled on his hair, pulling his head back.

“Harder!” She cried loudly, arching her body as she threw her head back.

Alistair listened and began to rapidly swing his hips, thrusting in and out like it was his last night on earth like it was his last night with her. Xaviera cried in passion, crying out Alistair’s name at the top of her lungs. Her free hand held tightly onto his back, her nails dragged down it roughly. Alistair groaned loudly, biting into his bottom lip and huffing from his nose. He grunted and groaned, hanging his head down and closing his eyes. He felt like his body was on fire, and it felt amazing. He never wanted it to end.

He leaked pre-cum into Xaviera, the warm liquid dripped into Xaviera, only making her moan louder as she felt it. Alistair licked the tip of his finger and once again pressed it to her clit, rubbing it roughly as he continued to fuck her, moving so hard and fast the bed creaked with every movement. With the rubbing of her clit and the pounding between her legs, Xaviera fell over the edge, crying out as she orgasmed. Her nails dug deep into Alistair, holding onto him like her life depended on it. She didn’t want to let go, she wanted to hold him forever.

“F….unph…” Alistair grunted as Xaviera’s tight walls twitched around him. He tried to keep it up but struggled as he felt his own climax growing. He pounded away, feeling himself weakening. His body twitched and shook as it only grew closer and closer.

“Xaviera…” He moaned and fell on top of her. Pushing forward in one hard swing and came inside her. Xaviera moaned gently as she wrapped her arms around him. Alistair lay on top of her, his hips slowly coming to a halt as he rested his head on her chest. They both moaned loudly, then began breathing slowly. They embraced, holding their hot, sweaty, sticky bodies together.

“That was…” Xaviera panted loudly. “You’re amazing, my love.”

“As are you, beautiful.” Alistair smiled as he looked up at her. He pecked Xaviera on the lips gently, then lay his head back onto her chest, sighing happily. “We best get back to camp.” Alistair laughed a little but didn’t move.

“In a moment,” Xaviera smiled. “For now...let me hold you.”

[erandir]

Fic: Tender

Finished and fixed up this old unfinished ficlet for @14daysdalovers

Prompt: A Tender Caress Pairing: Rowan Tabris/Zevran Arainai (pre-relationship) Rating: T Wordcount: 2016 Summary: Rowan returns from the Deep Roads in desperate need of some TLC and a nap. Zevran provides. Or: The boys caught feelings but are too dumb to realize it.

----------

There was absolutely no sense of time in the Deep Roads. Somehow Oghren seemed to have some concept of the passage of days. As much as days had existed in Orzammar, at least, which was only in a very vague sense. But for Rowan, it had all become one endless expanse of time. A sort of eternal, infuriating twilight. All he knew was that by the time Orzammar was back in sight he was tired, aching, and he never wanted to see the Deep Roads again for as long as he lived.

They staggered out into the marketplace to the great surprise of everyone present, including the guards at the door that had all but sealed them in. Rowan hadn’t looked in a mirror for the Maker only knew how long, but if his companions were anything to judge by - Oghren, Shale, and Morrigan - he probably looked like he’d bathed fully clothed in a pool of mud, blood, and ichor. Actually, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Probably he should have gone straight to the Assembly, but he thought that if he had to deal with dwarven nobility right now on top of everything else he wouldn’t be able to restrain the urge to murder everyone in the room. And that wasn’t conducive to army recruitment. But word of their return somehow crossed the city faster than they did themselves, because as he approached the inn Alistair was coming out to meet them.

“You’re back!” Alistair enthused, then he paused when their appearance finally registered. “You look terrible. Did you find Branka at least?”

“Oh boy did we,” Rowan said. That was going to take some explanation that he did not have the energy for at the moment. He clapped a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, and then pushed past him into the inn. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need a bath and the strongest drink this place has.” 

The drink came first. Something thick and brown that smelled strongly of dirt and burned like fire going down his throat. It sent him into a short coughing fit, which was eased by a friendly pat on the back and a familiar accented voice commenting, “The strength of the drink here is really its only good quality.”

Zevran was a sight for sore eyes. A very handsome sight for Rowan’s very tired and sore eyes. And one look at Rowan’s haggard face prompted Zevran to signal the bartender for another round.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, voice coming out in something of a rasp as his throat attempted to recover from the first drink. The second went down no easier, but he preferred that at the moment.

“You looked as though you needed it,” Zevran replied.

“How long were we down there?” Rowan asked. Oghren had guessed at the number of days, but without Orzammar’s clocks even he hadn’t been certain. And Rowan wasn’t sure he trusted the dwarf’s judgement fully.

“More than two weeks,” Zevran replied.

“Fuck,” Rowan breathed. That long? Or only that long? The expedition had felt both shorter and longer at the same time. He’d never expected it to take so long, either. 

Zevran hummed a sound of agreement. “I will not lie, some of us were beginning to wonder if you would ever return.”

Of those that had been left behind, Alistair and Leliana didn’t seem the type to despair, Wynne was probably pragmatic enough to know a lost cause when she saw one, but was two weeks long enough? That left only Zevran and the dog. “Some of us?”

Zevran favored him with a wan smile. Caught. “I’m very glad to be wrong, in this instance.”

“Glad you were, too,” Rowan agreed. He didn’t want to die in a hellhole like that, and shuddered at the idea that someday he might have no other choice. No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted another drink, but more than that he wanted to be clean. He pushed himself away from the bar, “I need a bath.”

He didn’t miss the way Zevran eyed him up and down, but without the usual heat behind his gaze. “You do,” he agreed, but not unkindly. “I think it will take some effort to clean up this mess, perhaps you would like some help?”

Rowan was surprised by the offer. He was filthy, and far too exhausted to do anything other than clean up and fall asleep. But he was exhausted, and Zevran had offered. “I wouldn’t say no.”

—————

Orzammar did not have baths large enough for Rowan to fit in comfortably. Still he sunk as deep into the water as he could, letting the warm water seep into the sore muscles of his arms and back. He must have looked slightly ridiculous when Zevran waltzed into the room. Only his head and knees above the water, pale skin mottled with bruises visible now that all the blood and filth was washing off.

Griffin trotted at Zevran’s side, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and stubby tail wagging. He’d practically bowled Rowan over when he first arrived back at the room, but thankfully the Mabari’s excitement to have his master back had lessened in the past hour. 

“I’ve finally located something that claims to be soap,” Zevran announced triumphantly. 

Rowan managed an actual smile, though a small one. “Let’s have it, then,” he said, pushing himself into a proper seated position again and holding out a hand. 

Zevran produced an oblong lump of off-white lye soap. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but it would serve. As soon as the soap was in his hands, Rowan lathered up and began scrubbing at his hair, which hadn’t been free of its ponytail for at least two weeks. Almost immediately his fingers became caught in knots and mats that tugged painfully at his scalp. “Ow, shit,” he hissed, pulling his hands away delicately. “I might need a haircut.”

“No!” Zevran gasped in dismay. He knelt beside the bathtub and finally had a good look at the state of Rowan’s hair, then sighed sadly. “Ah, you have not been taking care of your lovely curls.”

“I was rather preoccupied,” Rowan told him. 

Zevran hummed softly, a sound equal parts agreement and consideration. “We may be able to save it,” he said, “But it will take some work. I’ll leave the decision with you.”

Rowan considered it. He’d had short hair before, in fact the only reason it was so long now was that he couldn’t be bothered to trim it while on the road. So he wasn’t emotionally attached to it or anything. But Zevran seemed fond of his copper ringlets when he let them down, and he’d grown rather fond of the compliments they earned him. “We can try,” he agreed eventually. “After I’ve bathed.”

“That seems wise,” Zevran agreed. “I’ll fetch my comb, and when you are clean, we will see if we can rescue your hair.”

Rowan only nodded and went back to washing himself as Zevran left once more. By the time the Crow returned he had finished scrubbing down most of his body and the bath water had turned dull reddish brown. He was still tired and sore, but he felt more alive than he had in days. He had just finished dressing when Zevran returned with more than just a comb in hand. He brandished also a brush and a pair of scissors, “In case we are not successful.”

 They settled cross-legged on the bed, Zevran behind him working the knots from his hair. It didn’t hurt as much as Rowan had expected. The assassin’s hands were surprisingly gentle, and the light tug on his scalp was somehow almost comforting.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because Rowan was next aware of waking up on the too-hard, too-short dwarven bed, blankets tangled around his legs, and the light of only a single candle to illuminate the room. He couldn’t tell what time it was, and he was really beginning to hate the way every hour bled together down here. How could the dwarves stand it?

Zevran was gone. That wasn’t a surprise. They never slept together unless they had slept together. But Rowan surprised himself by feeling disappointed. Last night - was it night? - had been unexpectedly nice, even though they had been as chaste as Chantry sisters. It had been a long time since Rowan had allowed himself to let his guard down and be that vulnerable around anyone.

It was because of the Deep Roads, he told himself as he climbed out of bed. He’d been alone in the dark for too long, starved of touch and friendship and safety.

Griffin was asleep on the floor beside the bed. Properly passed out, paws twitching as he chased squirrels in his dreams. Rowan’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in far too long - he’d given up on guessing at the passage of time - and he stepped carefully over the dog’s bulk. 

That’s when he noticed his armor. Before his bath, Rowan had left the leathers in a disheveled heap at the foot of the bed to be dealt with when he had the energy to do so. He knew they shouldn’t be left too long caked in filth or else risk damaging the leather irreparably, but they’d kept for 2 weeks, they would keep one day more. But now when he went to fetch his boots and something more substantial than his underclothes to get breakfast in, he discovered the armor had been moved. 

Each piece had been laid out across the room’s low stone table, and some of it had been cleaned already. His sword and offhand dagger were sitting atop their scabbards polished and, a quick test with his thumb confirmed, sharpened. The worst of the filth on his armor had been wiped off, with attention to the joints and rivets that risked rusting or weakening, but the leather itself was still in need of a good oiling before he had to face anyone important. His boots had been cleaned of caked on mud and then polished to a shine that almost disguised how old and beat up they were.

That sight alone was enough to tell Rowan who had gone to all this effort for him. Zevran. But why? This must have taken him hours, which gave Rowan and indication of how long he'd been asleep, but why would he go out of his way like this. A little bit of tidying up he might understand, but this was beyond that. And this was on top of everything Zevran had done for him before Rowan passed out. Passed out while having his hair brushed like a child. He would have expected Zevran to be annoyed, not to have tucked him into bed like an invalid and then spent the next few hours making sure his gear was in proper working order. 

It didn't make any sense. 

They'd slept together, yes, plenty of times. They were friends outside the bedroom, too. He even trusted Zevran with his life in a fight. But to have someone else take care of his weapons and armor was oddly intimate. 

Everything about the night before had been oddly intimate, he realized. Now that his brain was awake and properly rested he realized that Zevran’s behavior of the night before had been unusual. There was no way he could have expected Rowan capable of anything other than passing out immediately after getting clean. So it definitely hadn’t been innuendo when he’d offered his assistance. He’d just genuinely wanted to help? That seemed so out of character.

Rowan’s stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly of how empty it was. He shook thoughts of Zevran out of his head and reached for his boots. There would be plenty of time to puzzle out the Crow’s motives when he had food in his stomach and the political mess was finally dealt with. For now, he had work to do.

[mithrava]

Hey, about your dragon age characters, what main choices did you make? Or maybea u can share your world state? 'u' just curious

Oh, boy. I don't know how to share my world state. I'll make a summary here:

DAO:

- Female dalish warrior.

- Anora and Alistair as the monarchs.

- Loghain is Kieran's father

- Bhelen is Ozamar's king (not that I give a damn because everything is so cofusing I tried to go for the less worse)

- Sided with Branka and kept her golem madness going.

- Pretty much helped the templars, saved the mages from death. Helped the elves. Helped everyone 😂

- Saved Redcliff, of course ❤

- Everyone was my friend, all missions done and I romanced Leliana. No one is dead.

- Warden is alive thank you very much.

What else am I missing???

- Played all the DLC.

DA2:

- Warrior female Hawke, green and red by the 3rd act.

- Sided with the mages all the way.

- Helped all my beautiful and problematic friends.

- The Sabrae is alive, Merrill kept her ungodly mirror.

- Isabela wasn't handed to the Arishok and I kicked his ass by running in circles with my vicious dog called Bombom.

- Fenris free because he learned that ⭐ Frienship is Magic ⭐

- Anders is alive, but not forgiven

- I was friends with everyone, but Sebastian left anyways. I feel bad for him he is a good man and his voice... 😢

- Bethany is a circle mage.

- Played all the DLC and almost died at Chateau Haine. Didn't kiss or flirt with Tallis, Hawke is loyal to her two wives.

- Deep in my heart Hawke is married to both Isabela and Merrill. But technically speaking, Merrill is the one on the game data.

- No one is dead except the bad guys. And my focken family 😭

DAI: Be prepared, I have several Lady Inquisitors lol The main choices are all the same tho.

- Dalish female rougue with princess Josie, Dalish female mage with the most beautiful, perfect, hariest, strongest husband Blackwall. Another dalish mage with that clown Solas. (I played with other races but I have an elf problem ok?) All 3 exist in a multiverse lol Quisiverse.

- Sided with the mages (I love Calpernia as the enemy the best, tho. I love redeeming her, she deserves a good redemption).

- Everyone loves me and we are all besties 🌠❤⭐🌠❤

- Didn't kill anyone when judging criminals. There are worse things than death, such as Florianne being my personal jester hehe

- Cole took a dna test and he is 100% a spirit.

- Of course I gave Vivi the right heart, she is my bff.

- Sera killed the noble men. Eat The Rich.

- Iron Bull is a tal-vashoth.

- Dorian and his father are good.

- Celene and Briala together. Gaspard is d e a d 💩

- Loghain died, at the cost of my tears because I had a crush on him (judge me if you must). It was his time to go.

- The Warden were forgiven and helped the Inquisition.

- Solas' inquisitor drank from the well. The others didn't.

- Leliana is the Divine.

- Played all the DLC. Still thristy for Svarah Sun-Hair ✌😞

CONFUSING I KNOW just ask me anything if I left something pass. Remember: fuck the Chantry.

[confusedhalfofthetime]

Sorry, I ment 6 and 12 from the fluff section. Lol 😁

Here you go honey! Thank you so much for the request, I hope you like this.

Warning: just fluff really

It was another day in the TARDIS. A quite one, actually, compared to what you were used to.

The Master had woken you up pushing your door open noisily.

-Rise and shine! - he shouted.

He was in a good mood.

You groaned against the pillow and you heard him huff. -Come on, there's a great day ahead of us! -

-Mh mh- you muttered, your eyes still closed shut.

For a moment you heard nothing else. Then your blankets were pulled away from you and you cursed as the cold air layed over your body.

-I won't say it again- he warned and you sticked your tongue out at him. He smirked and walked out. You grabbed your phone to see the time and you were met by the picture of the Master. It had been your lockscreen for a while. You had taken that picture of him during one of your adventures. He was distracted, looking at some old book he found utterly fascinating. Of course he ended up stealing it. But the little smile tugging at his lips and his shining eyes were impossible not to capture. You smiled to yourself and got out of bed.

When you entered the console room, he was running around like an excited puppy.

You smiled softly at the sight.

-Finally! - he exclaimed when he saw you standing a few feet away.

-So, what do you have planned for us today? - you asked walking toward him. -Stealing artefacts during the French Revolution? Asassinating Alzarius' emperor? Oh wait, we did that last week-

The Master smiled smugly at you.

-I was thinking of something more...peaceful-

You frowned. -Alright, who are you and what did you do to the Master? -

He rolled his eyes. -I just thought you might enjoy a quiter day-

To be fair, you did like the sound of that. But that would have been too good to be true. He never brought you anywhere without a purpose. He always had an evil plan to act on.

-Really? - you asked suspiciously.

-Yes, really-

-You promise there's not gonna be weapons or guards chasing us or a dead body by the end of the day? -

The Master smiled. -You know I can't promise you that-

-Master-

-Alright alright- he placed a hand upon his chest. -I promise-

You looked at him with your arms crossed for a moment. Then you let yourself smile.

-Alright then, where are we going? - you asked bouncing excitedly next to him.

He smiled at you with soft eyes. You liked the way he looked at you. It made you feel special.

-You'll see- the Master winked and pushed a lever. The TARDIS shook and you held onto the counter. The Master laughed loudly, looking up at the ceiling.

You loved the sound of his laugh, you wished he did it more often.

After a few seconds the TARDIS steadied and the Master smiled at you. He ran toward the door and looked back at you.

-Y/N, welcome to Archetryx-

He opened the doors and you were met by the sound of festive music, a mixture of smells you couldn't recognize and the sight of hundred of stalls.

-Wow...- you breathed.

It was a market. An alien market. The people conversed animatedly, buying and selling objects and kind of food.

-So? What do you think? -

The Master placed his hands on your shoulders. You turned to face him, a big smile enlightened your features.

-It's amazing-

The Master grinned, satisfied.

-I knew you'd like it. Come on, there's a lot to see-

You followed him through the stands, squishing between the chattering crowd. For a moment you lost him, unable to find his purple coat anywhere in that chaos of colors. You looked around, starting to panick. In that moment, you felt someone grab your hand and you turned abruptly. The Master was a few inches away, a wide grin on his face.

-I almost lost you there-

-You won't get rid of me that easily- you smiled.

The Master squeazed your hand and led you toward a stall from which came a very nice smell. You could see food of every shape and fruit of colors you never even knew exist.

-Oh wow, this looks good! - you said. -What's that? - you asked pointing at a strange looking cucumber.

-That's a Riverfruit. Never liked the taste of that- he answered keeping his hands behind his back and leaning toward the food.

You pointed at another blue fruit. -And that? -

-That's called Branka. It's very sweet, makes an excellent juice-

You were always impressed by his incredible knowledge. Sometimes you wandered how long had he spent travelling, all by himself.

-Oh and that? - you asked grabbing a red, round shaped fruit.

-Oh be careful with that. It's poisonous-

You let it fall back on the stall and the Master laughed. -I was kidding. That's an apple-

You frowned at him. -Not funny-

-A bit funny-

-What does a common apple do here? -

-This is a maket. There's all sort of fruit from all around the universe! - he explained.

-Now, get yourself something to eat. I'll go check something out-

You nodded, focused on the choice at hand.

You spent a while walking around the market with your Branka juice and a slice of something called "Geletaa".

The Master had left you a few coins of a purple metal, enough to buy you breakfast and a funny looking stuffed animal. It looked like a mix between a giraffe and a dolfine.

You set down at a bench in a quite spot to finish your food, then suddenly, you saw the familiar silhouette of the Master running toward you. He looked messy but somewhat excited.

-Hey you, where have you been? -

The Master set next to you.

-Nowhere, I just had a commission to make-

You looked at his jacket. It was cut here and there. Your eyes hardened. He had promised you this wasn't gonna involve any of his usual plans.

-Right- you scoffed and you got up.

-What? - he asked, confused.

-Where did you get those? - you pointed at his jacket.

He followed your hand, looking down at it.

-I told you I had something to do-

He was unbelievable. You shook your head and walked away.

-Y/N- he called after you but you kept walking.

This was important for you. One nice day together, somewhere, anywhere in the universe just the two of you. Instead, he had brought you on this planet full of stuff to distract you while he went off doing god knows what, leaving you alone.

Sometimes when he talked to you or when he looked at you in a certain way, he made you think that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. But you should have known better. That proved you had only deceived yourself.

You got back to the TARDIS, walking fast toward your room.

-Y/N! - the Master grabbed your wrist and you turned around.

-One bloody day, it was all I asked- you said raising your voice.

The Master looked at you in silence. Then he slid his hand in the pocket inside his jacket.

-I was gonna wait till tonight. The sky of Archetryx is stunning after the dawn-

You looked at him in confusion.

-But since you can't seem to be able to wait...-

He took out of his pocket a bracelet. It was shining like it was made of diamonds and it had a little emerald at the center.

-It's made of star dust and crystal. It's from the queen's colletion-

Your eyes snapped up to meet his.

-You stole it? For me? -

He put his hands in his pockets, looking almost shy. -Yeah well, consider it a thank you for...sticking around-

You kept it in your hands, staring at it with your eyes wide open in shock.

That's where he had been, to steal a jewel from the queen of the planet herself. Just for you.

-It's...it's stunning-

The Master smiled, reassured to see you appreciated his present. You looked at him and the look of utter adoration he gave you made your stomach flip.

-Thank you, Master- you whispered.

He took the bracelet from your hands and put it on your wrist.

-It's nothing. It looks better on you than it does on her, anyway-

You chuckled.

The tension between you was palpable, he was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face. As you were about to lean in, your phone vibrated. You gasped in surprised and took it out of your pocket quickly, feeling your cheeks warm up.

-Bloody twitter...- you whispered looking at the useless notification.

-...am I your lockscreen? -

Your heart sped up. Shit.

-You weren't suppose to see that-

The Master studied your expression for a while before starting to laugh.

You rolled your eyes.

-Alright are you gonna stand there and laugh at me or are you gonna kiss me? -

At that, the Master stopped laughing. He looked at you with a faint smile on his lips.

You sighed, looked at his lips briefely.

-Please, just kiss me already- you repeated.

The Master didn't waste a second. In no time, his lips were on yours, soft and full and perfect.

You placed your hand on his chest and felt his hearts beating fast.

When you parted, you were out of breath. He smiled at you as he caressed you cheek.

-That is a rather nice picture-

You rolled your eyes and he started laughing again before you shut him up with another kiss.

It was another day in the TARDIS, but it was way more special than the others.

[possiblypeachy]

opportunities missed.

―; summary: there are plenty of times during which the Warden and Alistair could've kissed. of course, in that terrible fashion of theirs, they were far too stupid to take these chances and instead fumbled around with their emotions like the fools that they were. at least we get some good pining out of it, hey?

―; pairing: alistair x female warden

―; word count: 4.8k

―; warnings: n/a (i think! please tell me if you deem otherwise.”

―; A/N: i am a Great Big Fool for never having written for alistair before. this himbo was my first love in a game and i need more content where he’s being useless so i thought i’d just write some myself. i can’t guarantee everyone’s 100% in-character but please do enjoy the oncoming antics regardless!!

― ❊ ―

To say that Alistair and the Warden’s relationship had been simple would be the biggest lie of the ages. Granted, during the Blight was a complicated time to decide that you love somebody but, Maker’s balls, did they make it difficult for themselves. It was all flushed cheeks and shy gifts in amongst the ruthless fighting and bloodshed; one might think they’d have been pushed to confess sooner, considering the looming threat of death, but one would also be bypassing the fact that they are idiots and idiots stray wildly from what is expected from them.

There had been a myriad of near-kisses on their journey together, all more ridiculous than the last, before it finally happened (afterwards, Zevran had owed Oghren a coin purse, much to the assassin’s chagrin). It was certainly something of a personal battle for everyone involved and, as we all know, battles always come will glorious tales behind them. Well, perhaps ‘glorious’ isn’t a viable word to use here but the whole ordeal was… interesting, for sure.

The first instance of this recurring disaster was while traipsing through Redcliffe Castle in hopes of finding Arl Eamon safe and well and not finding his demon-possessed son. Now, by this point, Alistair and our dear Warden were becoming steadfast friends; she had the same wit as him, that same sense of shy heroism, and, luckily for him, she seemed to have little tolerance for Morrigan’s constant mocking-- at least, she had little tolerance when she could tell that the apostate had hurt the poor man’s feelings. Nothing special was blooming yet but there was certainly a strong potential for that tension-- that delicious pining that everyone wants to read about or experience if they’re lucky.

“Do these corridors ever stop?” Was Alistair’s second complaint of the past hour, following a long, dismal monologue about the sheer amount of stairs in the castle. It was almost like he’d forgotten about how huge this place was as a child and was just now rediscovering it all.

“Do your complaints ever stop?” It was Morrigan who bit back, of course, and the Warden closed her eyes in anticipation. Hearing Morrigan speak was sometimes like being stood in the eye of a storm and knowing that there’s no escape from the battering soon to arrive. “One might think you Grey Wardens have bigger problems to whine about.”

Half-hoping that there’d be yet more walking corpses in the next room if only to stop their argument before it began, the Warden pushed open a door to her left and swerved into it, hand lingering near her weapon. Her hopes were crushed, however, when she was met instead with a horrible damp smell and a few rats-- not even of the giant variety-- skittering behind barrels and crates.

The disagreement didn’t stop either, with Alistair biting back a: “Well, I am truly, deeply sorry that I’ve not had my mind fully focused on-- what?-- the possible end to everything.” Morrigan scoffed but he continued over the sound of the Warden’s mabari barking-- he, too, quite obviously irritated with the bickering. “I suppose it’s easy to assume that people can’t have more than one thing on their mind when you live in a quaint, little bog--”

“I likely have more on my mind now than you ever have--”

“Ladies!” The Warden put one hand up, the other digging through the depths of a barrel in hopes that there was something useful there. “Why don’t we stop with the back-and-forth and-- Andraste’s tits, what is that?” She pulled out an object that resembled a fruit, brown and green due to age. An insect leapt from the surface of the fruit back into the grubby heaven that was the pit of the barrel. The Warden, able to handle things such as walking corpses and maleficarum but apparently not a rotting apple, threw the dastardly thing against the nearby wall. The impact made a disgusting, wet noise before sliding down to the floor.

The quartette stared at it briefly, all sharing a similar frown, before the Warden let out a tired sigh. “Well, if you two have stopped fighting, I think I’d like to leave this room and try to forget about what just happened.” With that, she turned.

Straight into Alistair.

It was a strange and decidedly awkward bump of chests, during which their faces were suddenly closer than they’d yet been. There were mutters of “Oh, Maker, sorry” and “Sorry, I didn’t-- uh-- see you there” that made Morrigan smile like… well, a witch behind them; they likely weren’t going to hear the end of it.

Alistair’s cheeks flushed a reddish colour, ears tinged with embarrassment, and it was in that moment that the Warden had decided that he was, for a warrior meant to help her save the world, quite adorable. He decided that same thing in the same moment about her, what with her averted gaze and little, apologetic smile.

Wonderful.

It happened the second time when they were both acutely aware of these growing feelings for one another. Leliana had already begun to poke fun-- in the kindest way possible-- about how she’d always catch them staring at each other from across the camp, a light in their eyes that declared admiration-- not only borne from respect for each other as fighters. Of course, in that way of theirs, they denied anything to begin with, despite their flirtatious banter and their want to protect one another on the battlefield.

Everyone in their merry little band could agree-- to this day-- that the Deep Roads around Orzammar were just the worst place to be in Thedas. Even without the extra darkspawn hanging about thanks to the Blight, the tight tunnels and deepstalkers were enough to keep anyone away. This, unfortunately, would be the next setting in their series of near-kisses.

A particularly tough squadron of darkspawn had set upon them during their search for Paragon Branka and, as always, their duty as Grey Wardens meant that they were obliged to at least try to take them out. The Warden could already feel the onset of muscle fatigue and sweating so much down in these depths was just bad for everyone. Quite frankly, she’d had enough and was considering calling for a retreat and trying to find a side tunnel they could take to pass by this onslaught; who knows what other beasts would be further along in the tunnels? They needed to conserve energy and supplies.

“Everyone!” She had shouted against the clash of metal and the crackle of magic, slamming her weapon into an attacking darkspawn, after which Morrigan promptly blasted it off of the rocky archway they’d been fighting on. “Retreat!”

The line of fighting started to pull back to the entrance to the cavern, darkspawn unable to crowd themselves onto the thinning walkway without stumbling and falling to the rocks below. It was all going well-- perfect, in fact-- until there was the distant and distinct burning sound of a fireball careening through the air. The Warden made direct eye contact with an emissary, holding its staff in its hands like it had just attacked, before a shout of her name came from her right and Alistair launched himself at her. The explosion of magic was deafening and blasted the entire party off of the rock arch and straight into the darkness below.

Despite the fall not being particularly high, the Warden was certainly ready for a painful impact, her skin already tender and hurting from the blast. Her body slammed into the floor, a cloud of dust following her as she rolled down a small ravine. Upon feeling the instant aching in her shoulder, she decided that she’d allow herself a few moments of grace and just lay there for a while-- at least to alleviate the ringing in her ears.

However, another body rolled into hers, the weight of them barreling her along with them until they both came to a stop tangled together. There was the distant groaning of Zevran, still lying on the floor, nursing a bleeding cut on his forehead, and Morrigan was stood a few metres away patting dirt off of her skirt with a face contorted with inconvenienced disgust. Admittedly, the Warden might’ve blacked out for a few moments but when she came to the realisation that the floor below her wasn’t rock and was, indeed, a person she inhaled sharply and sat up.

Alistair was beneath her-- to which she was sure that Zevran had said something to disgrace the Maker but the ringing in her ears was still too loud to hear it properly-- with cheeks painted red and a crooked little smile. His mouth was moving so she could only assume that he was speaking but rather than making it clear that she couldn’t hear him she did as was expected of her and said: “What?”

Well, perhaps ‘said’ isn’t the right word to use here. ‘Shouted’ maybe? Or, more appropriately ‘bellowed’? Either way, Alistair flinched when she all but yelled at him. As was expected, he shouted back in hopes that she’d be able to hear him over it all. “This is romantic, isn’t it?”

The ringing was slowly starting to subside so, luckily, she didn’t have to scream at him anymore. “Ah, yes, the stench of darkspawn and a painful shoulder really does get me going.” Zevran, now stood, chortled at her comment and, if you looked closely enough, Morrigan had given a little smile too.

Despite their joking, the hand on her lower back that helped her up made the Warden’s poor little heart flutter and the mere fact that they had landed like that made Alistair worried that the Maker would smite him, though he’d let it happen if only to see the gentle curl of her lips for the rest of his life. Love could always bloom in strange places-- in this case, the Deep Roads-- and their lingering looks and closeness during combat made that overbearingly obvious to everyone else. Sickeningly so, Morrigan might add.

To think this was the end of their everlasting pining would make you a great fool-- much like them, actually. After the Deep Roads and that dreaded encounter with the broodmother, Alistair had shyly offered up a rose to the Warden. He had said that he couldn’t allow such beauty to be tainted by the Blight and, in a certain way, he felt the same about her. She’d blushed, made a silly though overall on-brand joke, and took the rose from him, fiddling with petals with a fullness in her heart that made it hard to breathe. When he’d seen her setting it down beside her bedroll before she slept, staring at it for a little too long, he had to practice every bit of restraint he had to not smile like a madman.

She hated to leave it in that dismal little box as they travelled to the Brecilian Forest but had to so anyway, making a mental note to ask Wynne if it was possible to magically preserve the flower later on. During the trip, Alistair and the Warden would always walk just a little too closely, backs of hands brushing past one another with a desire to cave and finally entwine. They’d share the same night watches, staying up together until sunrise, pointing out strange shapes in the stars or trying to convince the other that there was a beast in the nearby bushes. It was horrendous to see such obvious adoration between two people without ever having seen either of them consolidate it-- like reading a book that never reaches its climax.

The forest was nice enough, what with all the greenery and rabbits, if you could just discount the overwhelming presence of werewolves and the trees-- the walking trees. In hopes that things might go more smoothly, the Warden had brought her mabari along for the ride, praying that maybe he and the werewolves could bark up some kind of deal. Admittedly, this wasn’t perhaps the best idea-- Morrigan made that very clear-- but the Warden wasn’t some kind of lycanthrope expert and was only doing what instinct told her. Besides, much like a pair of children who had decided on a stupid idea, herself and Alistair had declared that, as the two Grey Wardens of the group, no one could tell them not to bring the mabari along. Then, they mumbled some reasons that seemed to be good enough for Oghren at least and went on their merry way.

The Warden, her mabari, Alistair, and Wynne (who had come along if only to support Alistair in his belief that the mabari plan would work) had been traipsing through the forest, muttering curses at rocks hidden underneath leaves and felled trees that would block their path. The Warden was amazed at how many of those sylvan creatures there were in these woods and, Maker, did their long, twiggy arms hurt if you got slapped by them. However, they had yet to encounter any of these werewolves that Keeper Zathrian had mentioned and she was starting to wonder if this was some kind of ploy to get the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden killed or merely lost in the forest. Well, they could’ve done that themselves.

Her mabari barked a few times and looked at her, tension in his hindlegs that signalled agitation.

“What’s wrong, boy?” She bent down slightly to ask him, careful to not let her voice get too loud in case there were nearby enemies.

“Bark bark! Grrr!”

“What’s that? There are some other pooches on their way here that might not like us being on their territory?”

“Woof! Bark bark, woof!”

“Hiding would be advisable unless I’m willing to either fight them or be marked as territory--”

“Woof… woof, grrr.”

“-- and I’d never be able to wash that smell out of my clothes?” The Warden straightened herself again, her hands on her hips like she was considering what to put on her toast in the morning. “Well, you guys heard what the dog said; we should really find a spot to hide in.”

Wynne zoned out of what the Warden had said entirely and instead stared, open-mouthed, at her and the mabari. It’s difficult to describe the sheer level of confusion the wizened mage had painted across her features but, to put it into perspective, imagine that one of your friends had just had a full-blown conversation with a dog and-- oh, wait.

Alistair, on the other hand, had the kind of love in his eyes and curl to his lips that came from watching your partner do something altogether strange but genuinely quite skilful. This woman can talk to dogs-- how can she get any better? is what he probably thought upon watching this exchange.

The mabari barked again and it seemed to snap everyone out of their stupor and forced them to pay attention to what the Warden had just said, though Wynne would certainly be having words with the Warden about this later on. Did she understand him through tone of bark? Was it some kind of magic? How was he saying such long--

There was a crunch of fallen branches in the distance and snarl that even a war dog like her mabari couldn’t make. Wide eyes darted to Alistair, then Wynne, before she barrelled herself toward a gap between two nearby rocks, hoping that she didn’t smell too much of anything. The other two shared a look-- a panicked, helpless look. Wynne practically leapt behind a thick-trunked tree with surprising grace for a woman of her age and left Alistair to stiffen up in the middle of the path.

Her mabari barked at him once, a considerable amount of concern in his tone when one considers that he’s a dog, and Alistair plunged into a familiar state of panic-- one of the many reasons that he always insists on being a follower, not a leader. Maker, he was going to be eaten by one of these werewolves-- an oversized, probably stinking, mutt. What a way for one of the only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden to die.

A hand yanked on his own and he suddenly had to suck in a breath to squeeze into this cold, slightly damp crack in the rock. The Warden was pushed a little further down the crack, one of her hands pressed against his shoulder to push him back against the wall a little, allowing her to peer out into the open. Alistair soon became acutely aware of how close they were and it got more and more difficult to keep any kind of attention on the task at hand. Instead, he’d let her do all the heavy-lifting while he decided if that smell of hers was more of a campfire aroma or some kind of lady product she might’ve picked up on the road. His brows furrowed. Were there such things to be picked up? And, surely she wouldn’t have the time to--

He fought back the need to heave out air when she wriggled herself closer to him, effectively squeezing her body right in front of his in this dastardly gap. Her hand pressed to his chest now instead of his shoulder in hopes of creating a little more breathing room for herself, though this, in turn, suffocated him a little bit. The curiosity in her eyes was quite sweet, however, so Alistair decided against saying anything yet.

Her mabari barked at the rustling on the outer edge of the clearing, that distinct threat in his eyes that marked him as a war dog. When a hulking foot crunched through the leaves and the guttural snarling became louder than ever before, he didn’t seem so eager to fight anymore and lowered his tail, flattening his ears to his head. He looked in the direction of the Warden, worried, and she did a strange kissy face as reassurance; he would be getting lots of hugs and treats after this, even if Morrigan complained about how the extra meat made him absurdly gassy.

From her position crushed between Alistair and the rock, she couldn’t crane her neck around to look at the source of the thumping footsteps. Alistair, on the other hand, could see the werewolf too well, breathing out a curse of “Maker’s breath” before the Warden slammed a hand over his mouth in a fit of sudden fear that the oversized pooch would hear him. Their gazes met and her eyes widened, silently asking him what he saw. Her hand stayed clamped over his mouth so he raised his hands awkwardly, careful not to jostle himself or her, and made a gesture that screamed ‘it’s huge!’. She swallowed down her nerves and poked her head out of the gap a little further, finally allowing Alistair to breathe through his mouth again.

The werewolf was alone, luckily, and sniffed at the air as it inched forward, poking its nose about before it landed its sight on the mabari. Beady eyes narrowed, its back hunched over more, and it padded toward the fellow dog. “What is this--” there was a little snort, “-- mutt doing alone?”

As the Warden had asked, the mabari barked a few times, though he was certainly less sure of himself now than he was before. She was proud of him, at least-- her little snookums, her tiny, baby boy; look at him, facing off against such a hardy foe! He’d come so far since he was a puppy. She did one of those strange, nostalgic smiles that made Alistair practically vibrate with the beginnings of laughter.

“Stupid dog. Thinks I can understand it’s tongue--”

The Warden had poked her head out a little too far and, filled with worry that she might stumble out of their spot, Alistair grabbed her shoulders and tugged her back toward him. A few pebbles slipped under her feet as she wobbled back into position which made the werewolf dart its head in their direction. Her mabari began to bark again, hopping about on the spot in hopes of drawing attention back to him.

Smart boy, is what Alistair thought as he eyed the situation, still holding the Warden in her spot; a bout of protector complex had come over him, it seemed. He wasn’t going to lose his partner in crime to some… ugly dog. They still had this whole Blight problem to sort out and, Maker, he would not be able to do that himself.

The Warden didn’t even get a chance to see if her dog’s distraction had worked since her mind had quite wonderfully latched onto the realisation that her face was mere inches from Alistair’s.

Welcome to the party, dearest Warden.

Her eyes began to study the little intricacies of his face: that stubble of his that he’d all too often cut himself trying to shave, the wound on his cheek that she’d have to remind him to clean later on, the crease that appeared between his eyebrows whenever he tried to concentrate a little too hard. It all made her want to bring a hand up to cup his cheek, to angle his face so that she might kiss his cheek or, even better, his--

“That bloody wolf is finally gone. I didn’t think--” Alistair turned to face her but words caught in his throat when he saw the way that she was looking at him, a sudden flush painting his cheeks. He swallowed once and finally croaked out the rest of his sentence, voice barely there, “-- I didn’t think your dog was going to-- to pull it off.”

The Warden paused for a moment, then her mouth curled into a grin, breathing out a laugh. He was so terribly awkward that it made her want to take his face in her hands and squish his stupid, idiot cheeks together. She’d want it no other way. “This is romantic, isn’t it?”

At this, Alistair’s nerves eased somewhat and he followed her in chuckling, shaking his head at her remembrance of a decidedly terrible line he’d said while they were stuck in the pit of the world. “Arguably more so than last time. I would’ve liked some flowers or maybe some atmospheric music but beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” The Warden replied through laughter, a hand pressed delicately against his chest plate. Their gazes met, expressions softening into something different-- something like love, and her eyes soon flickered down to his lips. His cheeks flushed a darker colour, pupils blown wide.

Just as either one of them were about to make the first move, a bark sounded just outside the gap in the rock above the gentle fullness of Wynne’s laughter. “Ah, to be young and in love.” She mused, looking at them with the same kind of amusement that would befit a grandmother who just found out her teenage grandchild had a crush on someone: hands clasped together and a knowing little smile painted across her lips. “Come on, lovebirds; we have the world to save.”

The Warden shuffled out first, with the help of Alistair who had begun to ramble on to Wynne about how Grey Wardens could “actually telepathically communicate, which is what we were just doing.” Wynne simply murmured back sarcastic agreements, smiling up at Alistair all while trying to stop herself from laughing. Admittedly, even the Warden herself didn’t think they could talk themselves out of that one, though she admired Alistair for trying.

When they finally ambled back to camp after resolving Keeper Zathrian’s werewolf problem, the Warden had gone to sit with Alistair beside the fire as usual. Each time they sat together, they seemed to inch closer, shoulders and hands touching by this point. Sometimes, on cold evenings, the Warden would even rest her head on his shoulder, telling stories of her childhood and tales about the scars that littered her body.

This particular evening, Alistair seemed occupied with something, however-- so much so that he didn’t even respond when the Warden had offered him the crunchy end of the bread that he always begged for. She plonked her chin down on his shoulder and hummed, the vibration catching him off-guard. He turned a little so he could look at her and she pulled away, holding the bread out to him again. “What’s on your mind?”

Alistair pursed his lips, taking the bread and picking at the crust around the outside. “All this time we’ve spent together… you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battles with the whole Blight looming over us…” He dropped his hands into his lap and let his eyes wander back to her. “Will you miss it once it's over?”

She thought for a few moments, gaze boring into the fire like it might give her some kind of answer. “There’ll always be more battles to fight somewhere.” There was a pause before she turned to him, a gentle curiosity about the nature of his question swimming about in her eyes. Though, she said nothing more, allowing him to continue.

“But that doesn’t mean we would necessarily be fighting them together.” His hands were shaking a little more than he would’ve liked and the next breath he released sounded more akin to an owl than anything else. “I know it… might sound strange, considering we haven’t known each other very long, but I’ve come to… care for you.” He stopped, a nervous little smile coming to his face. “A great deal.”

It was safe to say that the Warden knew where this conversation was leading and the pit of her stomach felt like a cauldron, holding an unusual mixture of anxiety and joy, love and fear. She shuffled slightly so that she might face him more, though Alistair, lost in this little confession of his, seemed to be staring off over her shoulder, scared that looking into her eyes would reveal some form of rejection.

“I think maybe it’s because we’ve gone through so much together, I don’t know. Or maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I’m fooling myself.” His gaze finally met hers and there was such vulnerability in those depths of amber that it made her want to weep. “Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever…” Maker, her heart was ready to burst, “...feel the same way about me?”

There wasn’t even room for her to think before her lips cracked into a wide grin and she did that little excited giggle of hers. “I already do, Alistair, you idiot.” It was her that pressed forward to kiss him, both hands coming up to cup his face like she’d wanted to ever since he’d donned that delightful blush of his at Redcliffe. The world became enveloped in him and, for a few moments, all thought of the Blight had been replaced with just this overwhelming desire to just… be with him. She wanted to be there whenever he tripped over little logs on their adventures, she wanted to help him choose tunics that compliment his hair colour, she wanted to feel that familiar rush of fighting alongside him-- she wanted him and all that he entails.

The kiss was short-lived but had enough feeling behind it that they pulled away feeling breathless-- as though the Maker Himself had crushed them both together. When they pulled away, Alistair had that pinkish tinge to his cheeks that made the Warden push them together with her hands. “Maker’s breath, you’re handsome.” She pecked his lips again. And, again. In fact, she looked a little bit like a duck.

She finally released his cheeks when his smile became too large to contain. With a laugh and a shake of his head, a hand coming up to try to cool his blush down, he finally lifted the bread she’d given him back up from his lap. “Right, well… that went far smoother than I expected.” He picked at the bread again, averting his gaze and dipping his head down slightly, trying to hide-- to not much avail-- the ever-growing smile upon his lips. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my bread and be off to sleep, lest I pass out entirely on the dirt here.”

The Warden huffed out a laugh, leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, before hauling herself to her feet. “Well, I’ll be going to bed then. I’ll be sure to dream of you so…” She took a few steps towards her tent, pondering on her words. “... dream of me too so that we might meet in our sleep, eh? I couldn’t bear to wander the Fade without you.”

With that, she shuffled off to her bedroll, a smile on her face that just wouldn’t budge. Behind her, Alistair was the same, munching on the bread much like the cat who’d caught the canary.

They may have been idiots but at least they could be idiots together.

[greenteabtch]

Ok time for Solana! Shale 3, Wynne 2, and Alistair 3!

ahh! thank you for waiting! It’s been a bit busy hehe but I am ready to answer!!

Shale #3.

Solana sided with Caridin because it was obvious to her that Branka had become hungry for power. She had seen that look in enough templars eyes, that if they COULD turn her into nothing but a fighting machine to follow their command they would do it in a second. It repulsed her, and she didn’t tolerate Branka for a second. Luckily, Solana had just happened to bring Shale along in her party, half because she couldnt wait to see the looks on the dearves faces, and half so she could joke about Shale being surrounded by family (rocks). It turned out to be the right choice, as Shale was grateful to remember Caridin. Though he died, she was glad Shale got to reconnect with her past, a bittersweet feeling that she would not be able to have the same for herself. Later she reluctantly confided this in Shale, bringing the two closer.

Wynne #2

Oh boy, so Solana romanced Alistair, and when Wynne brought up her doubts, she did not react pleasantly. She had always dreamed about having a life of her own outside the tower with fancy dresses and dashing gentlemen, and now that she had found something even better than that— a real best friend and goofy lover determined to tear her walls down— she basically told wynne to piss off. Maybe it wasn’t right to, since she was ancient (her words not mine), but the truth was, Solana was scared. What if it wouldn’t last? What if it was just a dream and he was a fade demon who had already eaten her soul? After a day of grunts and the silent treatment, Solana sucked up and approached her, telling her the angry truth. That yes, she was scared it would all end with broken hearts and tears but at least she had lived her life and experienced it which was more than she ever would’ve gotten to at Kinloch Hold. She cried in Wynne’s lap for an hour after that, and anyone who came by got a faceful of ice.

Alistair #3

Solana couldn’t turn down Alistair’s hope to reunite with his family, hell, if she could she’d do the same. So off to Denerim they went and found Goldanna, who barely escaped by the skin of her teeth. Solana was near livid standing there watching her abuse Alistair like that, staying quiet only out of respect for him. she eventually gave her whatever money she had just to get her to leave him alone. Solana empathized a lot with Alistair in that moment, because though she had wondered about her family herself, she figured they would do the same thing Goldanna just did, except a whole lot more shrieking for the templars. The only person she thought may have wanted to see her was her Mother, as she was sure she remembered her being reluctant to hand her off to the templars. It had been so long now though, she honestly wondered if she really did care.

Thank you for your ask Emilyy ❤️ if you all sent me an ask I will get to it soon!!!

[secretsfromwholecloth]

Dragon Age: Origins, day 7.

Zevran, triggering the traps you just detected and getting the entire party engulfed in a fireball is generally considered somewhat impolite.

Hello, Oghren. I look forward to giving you all your gifts and freeing up a half dozen inventory slots.

I’m definitely going to thank myself for running a warrior, specifically a tanky sword-and-board type, when I get to Awakening, where Oghren, who’s both irritating and absolute crap at tanking, is the only warrior companion until rather late on, but for now, with Origins’ surfeit of warriors, I’m having less fun with party selection than I might be. Specifically, I like Alistair and don’t enjoy leaving him at camp, but since I need a rogue and a mage—let’s be realistic, a rogue and Wynne—in the party at all times, the second another warrior needs attention, I have to drop him. Giving two warriors attention at once—like, say, bringing both Oghren and Shale to go after Branka—is effectively impossible.

...so I guess there’s no real reason to get Shale now and not just bang this out and be done with it first, is there.

Oh, hey, I hear Hespith. Great. This part. The writer responsible needs to get back in the trash can and stay in there until they’ve fixed their misogyny problem.

Especially if it’s you, Mr. I’m Perfectly Capable Of Writing A Healthy Relationship As Long As It’s Het.

What was all that about genlock emissaries being an impossibility? Because this game is full of them.

Broodmother time already? Let’s get this over with.

Any of you try to be funny and start talking like “oh how dare you body-shame the broodmother, she’s a beautiful creator of life uwu”, I will eat you.

You laugh, but someone tried that on Twitter. Not with me, or I would’ve given them what for.

Hello, Branka. *siiiiigh*

Zevran, supporting Bhelen was one thing, but you really don’t need to defend the Anvil’s honor, please stop.

And that’s that for Orzammar, whew. Now let’s go grab Shale and then start wrapping this up.

Wait, don’t helmets usually get turned off for conversations? It’s a little unnerving talking to Oghren and looking into the glowing red eye-slit of the Blood Dragon Plate Helm.

OK, there we go. Now that we’re done with the chat about Felsi and have moved on to a regular conversation, the helmet has disappeared like normal.

Level 18-19 is dragonslaying time, right? Let’s go bag ourselves some dragons. First up, Flemeth. I didn’t stab her last time, and she needs a good stabbing to remind her what’s what.

Well, that wasn’t bad. A little tedious, with the way she kept turning around, and keeping Alistair standing did require a couple of health poutines, but it was over pretty fast.

Nice try, Morrigan, but flinging yourself at Daiwen isn’t going to work. You can call yourself his friend if you feel the need, but smug shems who swear up and down they’re more elven than him aren’t exactly his type.

Dear sir, the “I’ve never had a friend before” stuff was enough, the “Friendship with a man? I did not know it was possible!” business is unnecessary and makes my skin crawl. Please stop.

And now, back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for dragonslaying round 2.

That went nice and quickly. Now to go get something made out of the scales.

The city of Denerim clearly hates me. I’ve lost count of how many times the game has crashed while trying to leave the Market District. Ugh, that reverted both dragon battles and some other tedious stuff, too.

Well, I’m almost caught up, but it’s now after midnight, so the dragon at the Temple and any further progress will have to wait for tomorrow.

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

How would your Wardens rank the Fade, Deep Roads, and Temple of Sacred Ashes though?

Oh ho, now that’s a question! You know how to appeal straight to my heart.

Catalina is traumatized by the Deep Roads. Straight-up goddamn traumatized. She’s been freaked out enough by this entire “Grey Warden” shit since Alistair told her they’re gonna die young to the Calling, so then between meeting Ruck, the dwarf ghoul, and then the damned broodmother, Cata just has a bit of a mental break, does not even contemplate for a second siding with Branka, and then probably screams the entire way back to Orzammar. And if “circumventing that allegedly inevitable Warden death” wasn’t a primary motivator from when she found out about it - she spares Avernus to continue his research because fuck it she doesn’t want to die - the Deep Roads seal the deal, and there’s no way she wouldn’t take Morrigan up on her deal, or the Architect on his.

Having a Warden-Commander who would do anything to not go into the Deep Roads is also just conceptually kind of hilarious, I’ll be honest.

Avrian and Iveta, as the half-suicidal guilt-ridden clusterfucks, do not like the Temple. Staring down a specter of their pasts telling them to move on just opens that wound up wider. Avrian has also already run into Tamlen again, before that, so this vision of Tamlen looking okay telling him to move on kind of rings hollow to the way he last remembers Tamlen. And Iveta hasn’t had any kind of closure, so speaking with her father seems hollow in a different way. She isn’t very religious, and Avrian doesn’t believe in the Maker, so they’re also just going “whatever” at the actual Sacred Ash and the entire concept.

Avrian also did very poorly with the Fade, in my headcanon, because while Iveta has fury and a desire for vengeance to keep her going through the “wanna die”, Avrian doesn’t, and when Sloth is like “wouldn’t you just like to lay down and rest?” he’s like “FUCK yeah”.

And Jade, I think, would dislike the Deep Roads the most as well, because she’s disturbed staring down the prospect of her mortality. She wouldn’t have the complete break that Cata does, but she’s decidedly unhappy with that concept. I don’t think she’d like the Temple either, simply for the fact that here she is talking to a contented-seeming Jowan while she knows her real Jowan is locked up in Redcliffe because he was a dumbass. On the other hand, canonically (for her only-partially-done PS3 file) she singlehandedly slays a dragon, so that was pretty cool. (This girl is a damned beacon for pride demons isn’t she.)

[red-wardens]

Platonic touch meme number 52 (I think) Secret handshake with Ohgren and any of your wardens.

((i dont think i reblogged that list but np, I’ll try it out))

Platonic Touches - Mahariel x Oghren

—-

“Taken a piss, taken a piss…” the dwarven warrior half sings-half grumbles, relieving himself in the dark bushes. It’s half past one and the camp is asleep. While on guard duty he’s only allowed to drink water and that swill goes right through him. But, orders are orders. Speaking of which…

“Hey, Boss Lady, ain’t ya supposed to be sleepin till it’s your turn to watch?” he asks before belching, tasting dinner. By the time he’s sauntered over to the Warden by the campfire he has grown a little more solemn. The Dalish Elf’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen- and that bottle of “dragon-piss” nearly empty in her hand? Way below her usual standard of drink. Something’s not right. Isseya Mahariel does not look up.

“Oh. Them nightscares from the big dragon keepin ya up again?” Oghren asks, somewhat awkwardly. Comfort and feelings have never been his strong suit- Branka had liked to remind him of that all the time. Still, the idea of having to face your fears and enemies in your sleep still creeps him out. He is once again glad dwarves don’t dream.

“It wasn’t the archdemon,” Isseya replies flatly, before throwing her head back and taking another swig from the bottle. She chokes but forces the foul liquid down, welcoming the burn in her throat and stomach. Oghren shuffles his feet uncomfortably. Ah. The ex-boyfriend - or whatever he had been. That elf that had appeared in their camp last week all ghoulified. “Tam”-something.

He leaves for a few minutes to find the bottle of wine he had stashed away. Two days ago he lifted it from the old mage lady’s belongings. It was too high-class for him save for the worst nights of his wallowing over Branka. Fine wine was for exes and hard, sleepless nights- tonight warranted solace for both.

“You know, if you drank more wine, you would whine much less.” Oghren jokes when he returns, handing her the bottle.

 Isseya studies it, hard faced, before closing her eyes briefly and raising her unoccupied hand. He clasps it with his opposite one and for a moment it looks like they are about to arm wrestle- his hand applying pressure, hers pressing back. But they shift their hands a bit and interlace fingers. A brief squeeze, then two more, a release, a fist bump. It’s their recently formed handshake they’d invented a couple weeks ago when they’d both been hammered. 

Isseya tilts her head, indicating to the spot on the log beside her and Oghren takes a seat. They spend the rest of his watch sharing the bottle and, for once, some silence.

“I don’t whine,” Isseya says finally, as Alistair emerges from his tent across camp and Oghren rises to go back to his own. There is a hint of a pout in her usual frown. The dwarf chuckles.

“Sure ya don’t, sweetheart,”

—————

((Isseya x Oghren is actually my brotp, thank you for sending this request!))

[skyaches-aaa]

Here are Krishna’s thoughts on all of her companions , much of which is based on personal headcanon and my canon divergence about Origins’ timeline so I don’t expect everyone to adhere to this development ! This includes companions from the main game and DLCs and I’m using general terms from the companion relationship chart to describe them before going into detail.

EREYEN ( BEST FRIENDS ) : He is a companion created by my best friend who will be bringing him to tumblr in the near future. He is a Warden as well , in Alistair’s recruit group , but also did not want to lead the party. Still , he became a very good friend of Krishna’s over the Blight to the point where her daughter calls him Uncle.

ALISTAIR ( FRIENDS / DISLIKE ) : Oh boy. Krishna’s relationship with Alistair got very complicated. In my game I took the fact I kept sniper romancing him as canon of him developing a crush that ultimately went nowhere when she turned him down which made things uncomfortable for a brief period but she does care for him as a friend. I also have it where the Landsmeet happens in the middle of Origins instead of at the end , and Krishna spares Loghain. She doesn’t want Alistair to leave but she is firm in her decision and is very sad to see him go. She often thinks of him and feels guilty if she ever hears what became of him after the Blight. If she could , she would love to repair their friendship even if it’s not quite what it once was.

ITZAL ( BEST FRIENDS ) : Who’s a good boy ? Itzal’s a good boy !

LELIANA ( FRIENDS ) : There was a bit of a tense start given Krishna’s feelings on the Chantry and Leliana’s naïve view on elves. But she is willing to learn and she develops as a person and they become close.

MORRIGAN ( FRIENDS / DISTRUST / FRIENDS ) : Another complicated relationship. Krishna befriends Morrigan and they do trust one another. They’re very close and Krishna appreciates her blunt honesty. But then the Ritual comes and Krishna has been through a lot. She doesn’t love the idea of it but she also doesn’t want to risk Loghain or Ereyen dying because she loves them deeply. Plus , Morrigan and Ereyen are together so it wasn’t like sex was an issue. And then Morrigan disappears with the baby and Krishna worries about her and , honestly , what she is doing with the child. When they meet again in Witch Hunt , Morrigan is cryptic and refuses to show the baby and she is going to disappear with him again. So Krishna stabs her with every intent on going through the mirror and getting Ereyen his son and the portal closes. It leaves Krishna riddled with guilt until Morrigan shows up again in Inquisition. There is a long conversation where they slowly begin working through what happened and rebuild their relationship. Morrigan admits that she had plans but they changed so Krishna’s paranoia was understandable but they both agree stabbing was probably a bit too far.

OGHREN ( DISLIKE / FRIENDS ) : I take a lot of personal headcanon when it comes to Oghren. He is deep in the ways of the warrior caste , the subsequent removal from it , and the abuse from Branka. Krishna sympathizes , especially after learning the importance of caste in dwarven society. Still , she tells Oghren he can’t talk like that to women in particular , and that drinking this much is an issue. I won’t say she’s unkind about it , but she isn’t exactly gentle either. She doesn’t ever give him alcohol as a present because she does not want to encourage his alcoholism. Krishna is the firm hand he needs to learn to be better. He relapses while they’re apart between Origins and Awakening and she doubles down on him with his new responsibility as a father and husband and that’s when he turns his life around for real.

SHALE ( BEST FRIENDS ) : Shale is her favorite sassy golem. Krishna is very happy to not have control of her. The very blunt nature hides a very soft heart and Krishna knows it. Shale likes to pretend she doesn’t care but she can carried an injured Krishna all the way back to camp and didn’t let anyone else touch her until they got to Wynne. They are very good friends and Krishna misses her when she leaves and is happy for any visits.

STEN ( BEST FRIENDS / RESPECT ) : Sten learns a lot from Krishna and she from him. They build up a combatant’s respect first before they get to a point where things become more personal. She does have to kind of put him in his place in regards to some of his attitudes but all in all Sten is someone she comes to care for and respect very deeply and vice versa.

WYNNE ( RESPECT ) : Oh , Wynne. Krishna is older than the game attempts to imply the Warden is. She’s 30 and Wynne treats her like a child while still expecting her to be fully shouldering the Warden responsibilities. As someone who also lost her mother , she is very against many mothering types save for Adaia’s friend from her former Dalish clan but those are special circumstances. She respects Wynne to a degree , but at the same time Krishna has experienced a lot more than her given Wynne has lived the majority of her life in the Circle. Age doesn’t automatically earn you that respect or right to council. It only comes from her magic / healing experience and the fact that sometimes she does give good advice. But I still wouldn’t call them particularly close.

ZEVRAN ( BEST FRIENDS ) : The assassin sent after her is now a part of her found family , thanks. If it isn’t clear , Krishna does have a preference for her non human companions but it’s not intentional lol. But yeah , Zevran is easily one of her best friends ever and she emotionally supports him in leaving the Crows. They send letters often after the Blight and he regularly offers to kill any annoying nobles for her for free. She doesn’t really directly say no lmao.

LOGHAIN ( LOVE ) : That’s her husband. Again , as the Landsmeet takes place in the middle of the Blight instead , Krishna gets Loghain as a companion early. Krishna has zero intention of falling for him , but she finds an unexpected ease with him. She treats him like a normal person and does understand Rendon was absolutely playing on his paranoia while also acknowledging the things he was at fault for. He is someone she comes to rely on with her leader responsibilities and Krishna finds herself caring more and more. They get married a few years after the Blight and have an adopted elven child named Nina together.

ANDERS ( BEST FRIENDS ) : After everything with the Blight and then having Warden Commander duties , the levity Anders brings is refreshing and she really sympathizes with someone wanting to escape the Circle , given what she saw there and knows even the stories she heard are far worse. She gives him his cat and it cements their permanent friendship. When she hears what happened at Kirkwall , she does briefly hide him in Gwaren. There is discussion about potentially putting Krishna and Nina ( as he doesn’t really have a personal relationship with Loghain and Nina is still young ) in danger for harboring him but they insist it’s okay but he still moves on eventually.

JUSTICE ( FRIENDS ) : Admittedly , it’s a little weird to have a spirit possessed corpse running around but Krishna comes to care about him. He’s interesting and she appreciates his unique perspective on the world. It’s very interesting for her when she realizes Justice and Anders are bonded but she cares about them both.

NATHANIEL ( FRIENDS ) : He is a young and angry kid and Krishna gets that. She really does. So she tries her best to help him but also remains firm in handling the way he is dealing with his mix of guilt and confusion and anger and love surrounding his father. Eventually he comes to look up to her and still calls her Commander even when she eventually passes the title to Valaros.

SIGRUN ( FRIENDS ) : The death jokes are funny but Krishna does encourage Sigrun to find purpose for herself. They are good friends and enjoy having a laugh together , getting drinks after long days. The way Krishna gives her gifts over little things she mentioned is very sweet.

VELANNA ( FRIENDS / RESPECT ) : Krishna and Velanna have an understanding of being abused by humans but Krishna has interactions with humans beyond the antagonistic ones Velanna had. She does knows her anger , and her hating of humans is valid. But they do disagree on how to handle situations. It’s more Krishna’s willingness to cut through her barbed exterior that allows them to be friends but they don’t necessarily become best of friends still.

VALAROS ( FRIENDS ) : This is actually her half brother. Adaia had a child a year before she met Cyrion and she was shunned by her clan for being pregnant out of wedlock. She left Valaros with the clan so he can still have his culture and she thinks this is a better chance for him and her. Val does grow up embittered by this , especially when he purposely finds out where his mother is and sees she has another child. He becomes determined to make his own way in the world and winds up with the Wardens in Orlais. When he discovers Krishna got into the Wardens and became a Hero within a year it did make him rather angry and he requested to be sent to Amaranthine so see what happened with the Ferelden Wardens post Blight. He didn’t tell Krishna why he had a problem with her for a very long time but it eventually came out but because Krishna refused to be the point of blame for all of her brother’s problems , they did work through Valaros’ anger and became close. They do consider one another siblings and the position of Warden Commander is granted to Val since he actually wanted to be a Warden and she did not. He is the one out looking for a cure for the Taint.

ARIANE ( FRIENDS ) : More angry elves for Krishna to befriend. She likes her upfront and confident nature and likes the banter she has with Finn. They write one another on occasion.

FINN ( FRIENDS ) : Finn is not the first mage she’s met that liked the protection of the Circle but she isn’t a big fan of his unintentionally badmouthing Anders. Still , they get along well enough and he is usually there to greet her when she comes to visit the Circle for information.

BROGAN ( FRIENDS ) : Admittedly , I never played the Golems DLC but Krishna did complete it and I believe she would have liked Brogan’s company.

JERRIK ( FRIENDS ) : Same as above , though she does prefer Brogan I think.

[daughter-of-the-prophet]

Paragon Branka (Tv Tropes)

All Girls Want Bad Boys: Implied to be one of the reasons she married Oghren.

Arranged Marriage: World of Thedas volume 2 states that it was actually this.

Badass Bookworm: In addition to her intellect, she's also a good fighter with a sword and shield.

The Blacksmith: A master smith and most gifted individual since Caridin over a thousand years ago. Her discovery of a smokeless fire, ensuring that miners could work in safety and reducing deaths from "Black Lung" by two-thirds, made the Assembly raise her to Paragon status. Even so, she falls short of being considered the Ultimate Blacksmith, due to having to heavily rely on surviving fragments of Caridin's research in her attempt to rediscover the secret to creating Golems, rather than recreate it independently.

Brainy Brunette: The only current Paragon has dark brown hair.

Broken Pedestal: Let's just say that by the time Ilona actually meets her, she’ll find herself wondering why the dwarves revere Branka as a Paragon.

Depraved Bisexual: Apparently. Well, except that this was her only humanizing factor, which she cheerfully discarded when she was made to choose between relationship and obsession.

The Determinator: Insanely so when it comes to the Anvil. She has no problem in sacrificing anything and everything to get there.

Even Evil Has Standards: In Golems of Amgarrak, it's revealed that she knew about what was going on in the titular Thaig, but either found it too inhumane or too dangerous to consider using.

Girlish Pigtails: Inverted to hell and back. Branka is tough, driven, and rather insane.

I Did What I Had to Do: How she regards leaving the rest of her House to the mercy of the darkspawn while trying to reach the Anvil; Branka argues that most of those left were already dying or transforming due to being infected with the taint, and says that allowing the women to be turned into broodmothers would provide her an endless supply of darkspawn to lure into the thaig to hopefully overwhelm Caridin's traps.

Insufferable Genius: She wasn't very social to begin with.

Jumping Off the Slippery Slope: It's implied that she was originally somewhat stable, though eccentric; but eventually she became so obsessed with finding the Anvil that by the time of the story, it's literally the only thing she cares about anymore.

The Lad-ette: She's an interesting take on this trope, but even Oghren says that she was barely more of a woman than him.

Mad Scientist: Oh hell yes. At first, she was just an eccentric smith and inventor, but then her desire to recover the lost craft of creating golems drove her mad. To the point, she deliberately allowed her entire female retinue to be infected so that their Darkspawn progeny would provide her with a limitless supply of test subjects.

Meaningful Name: Branka is a form of the Slavic name Branislava, which almost literally means 'defender of glory'. Perhaps unintentional is the other meaning: the word branka means 'goal' (at least when one is referring to soccer).

The Paragon Always Rebels: An almost literal example.

Psycho Lesbian: An interesting inversion. Coldly condemning her lesbian lover to A Fate Worse Than Death to further her goal of acquiring the Anvil of the Void is part of what makes her a monster.

Tsundere: From Oghren's conversations, it's quite clear that Branka alternated between "loving and caring" to "violently beating people up" with regularity.

          Oghren: “Truth is, I don't know. She was almost crazier than when we were married, it looked like.”

          Shale: “Almost? It is exaggerating, surely.”

          Oghren: “Branka was always a bit twitchy. There was that day she took her forging hammer to my head for misplacing her tongs... ah, good times.”

          Shale: “I am finding the nature of its relationship to this Branka difficult to imagine.”

          Oghren: “Make-up sex. She really knew how to polish the old anvil, if you take my meaning! [whistles] Paragon! [laughs]”

          Shale: “I am done imagining, now.”

The Unfettered: There is nothing that is too monstrous for Branka if it means finding the Anvil of the Void, as her followers and her lover discover too late.

Villain Override: She turns some of the golems to her side in the fight against her and even causes Caridin himself to seize up and be of no help.

Well-Intentioned Extremist: Her seeking of the Anvil of the Void is to ensure the dwarves can build an army to wage war against the darkspawn, retake territory, and rebuild their empire. The way she sees it, no price is too high for that. 

Your Cheating Heart: According to The World of Thedas, it quickly became an open secret that she was having an affair with Hespith.