#josephine because she’s never done anything wrong. alistair because he’s never done anything

[signal-fire]

accidentally didn’t sleep last night and all i’ve done with my small amount of brainpower today is mentally hash out which romanceable dragon age characters aren’t war criminals. i think it’s 4 out of 17 of them. putting this important information in the tags before i forget it. it’s very long

[bigfan-fanfic]

Heskan Aeducan as a Companion

(Face Claim: Can Yaman) - Okay, I really wanted to do this because Heskan is basically the hot romanceable dwarf we’d all deserve in Inquisition. He uses the Dwarf Noble Origin and has the Spirit Warrior specialization, using it as an archer.

Hope y’all like him! Feel free to romance him, haha!

Inquisitor’s Name: Heskan “Hess” Aeducan

Race, Class, & Specialization: Dwarf Archer Warrior (Spirit Warrior)

Varric’s Nickname for them: Feathers

Default Tarot Card: The Chariot

How they are recruited: He joins automatically if you talk to him at the gate leading to the bridge in Skyhold; a cutscene triggers where he and Leliana are speaking and she vouches for his skill and he offers aid to the Inquisition.

Where they are in Skyhold: Aiming his bow over the battlements, taking potshots at trees in the distance.

Things they Generally Approve of: Pragmatic options, manipulating nobles, recruiting prisoners

Things they Generally Disapprove of: Letting prisoners go, executing them, dismissing Sera from the Inquisition, hitting Solas or Dorian

Mages, Templars, Other?: Heskan comes from Orzammar, and is really tired of having to deal with this whole surface conflict, especially as darkspawn get closer and closer to overrunning his people. That said, he prefers the mages. Templars he doesn’t trust.

Romanceable?: Yes, by any gender or race.

Friends in the Inquisition: Cole, Vivienne, and Iron Bull - Heskan and Varric have a not-quite-friendly rivalry.

Small side mission: Run around Skyhold collecting a stray arrow each time you return to Skyhold. 9 arrows altogether, every 3 arrows earns you a Heskan Greatly Approves.

Companion quest: Heskan wants to know if he is accessing the Fade through his Spirit Warrior specialization and asks the Inquisitor and Cole to help him, sleeping in front of them so they can test it. Cole mentions that Heskan is actually afraid of finding out the truth. After he wakes up, the Inquisitor has two options. Neither option impacts the ability to romance him.

Option 1: Lie and say no. This will net Disapproval from Solas and Approval from Cole and Heskan. Heskan seems relieved to learn that he is not upending all the rules for dwarfs and talking to him later reveals he is a little concerned because he’s been getting fragments of dreams, but nothing else comes of this. 

Option 2: Tell the truth. This will net Slight Disapproval from Cole and Great Approval from Heskan. Heskan admits that the idea of breaking all the rules for dwarfs and magic is frightening, but he is thrilled to consider this (if a Dwarven Inquisitor replies they feel the same way, they can earn extra approval). Talking to him later reveals that he has come to terms with accessing the Fade and he wants to attempt speaking with the spirit he has bonded with.

Tarot card change

Option 1: The Chariot (reversed)

Option 2: Knight of Pentacles

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: “The smile should not have to be my mask, but it serves its purpose, bright and blinding as I bleed from the wounds in my back.”

Comment(s) on Mages: “Poor sods. I’d be pretty tired too if someone shut me up in a tower all my life and didn’t let me breathe wrong.”

Comment(s) on Templars: “We trade these people lyrium and we don’t care where it goes... but seeing what happens to them... I wonder if it’s worth it.”

When looking for something: “Did somebody hear that?”

When finding a campsite: “Care to kick up your feet for a while, Inquisitor?”

When the Inquisitor Falls: “Hurry, save the Inquisitor!”

When they are low on Health: “Hello? Archer needing help over here?”

When they see a Dragon: “You’re gonna go fight that thing, aren’t you?

Default saying: “Sort of brisk out here, isn’t it?”

Travel Banter with Canon Companions of your choice:

Heskan: So, Varric. Varric: (Sighs) Hello, Feathers. Heskan: You don’t like me much, do you? Varric: One handsome dwarf archer is enough for a good story. You’re a bit superfluous. Heskan: Don’t spare my feelings or anything...

Vivienne: Tell me, Prince Aeducan. What are you doing on the surface? Heskan: Madame Vivienne, please. You may call me Prince Heskan. Varric (if present): (Disgusted noise.) Vivienne: That wasn’t an answer, Prince Heskan. Heskan: No... no it wasn’t.

Heskan: Varric? Varric: (Sighs) What is it, Feathers? Heskan: Oh, I apologize. You must be trying to find a way to describe me other than “exceptionally ugly.” Varric: So you read The Tale of the Champion, huh? Heskan: If anything, I’d say that only one of us uses chest hair to distract from our sorry faces. Varric: “Hideously ugly and arrogant” it is, then. Heskan: Lazy writing!

Cole (after Heskan’s personal quest is complete and he is told the truth): She says hello. Heskan: She? She who? Cole: I don’t know... she’s you. (if made more human) I used to see her better. Heskan: Oh. Could you... could you tell her thank you? Cole: She knows. Heskan: Thank you, Cole.

Friendship?: “Hello there, love. Miss me?”

Leaving the Inquisition: “I’m not fond of the way you’re running things here. If you don’t shape up, I’d rather be sucked up into the Fade than hang around here.”

The Fade

How they react: “Well... this is different. Not sure I should really be here, actually.” Their Tombstone: Betrayal What the Fears look like: His dead brother Trian What the Nightmare says: “Ah, the murderer-Prince of Orzammar. Have they forgiven you for killing your brother yet? Or do you think they’re waiting for the right time to strike?” Their reflection about the Fade: "Yeah, I’m not so sure I enjoyed that.” Hawke or Warden: Has worked with both, Disapproves if Hawke or Alistair is left behind. Greatly Approves if Loghain is left behind. Approves if Stroud is left behind.

The Wardens

Their feelings: Respects the Wardens, being a veteran of the Fifth Blight and working with the Hero.  Exile or Allies?: Allies

The Ball

How they feel: “Smile, love. We’ve got a role to play here, so stay guarded.” Where they linger: Outside the door to Gaspard’s balcony Are they good at the Game?: Very much so. What people say about them: “Oh, that dwarven Prince is such a good dancer!” “Tall for a dwarf, isn’t he?” Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Prefers Briala through Gaspard

Temple of Mythal

Rituals or Hole?: Hole Agree with the Elves’ bargain?: Agree. Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: Morrigan

Comments on Canon Romance

Cassandra: “Personally, the Seeker frightens me. But if you’ve chosen each other, I can tell she’ll be true.” Dorian: “Treat him well, Inquisitor. He’s been through enough in his life, I can tell.” Sera: “Hah, fun for all, eh? She’s a firecracker, she is.”  Iron Bull: “Heh, he’s a fun one. If you two weren’t together...” Josephine: “Ah, Lady Montilyet. A fine woman indeed. You’re lucky, Inquisitor. They don’t come much sharper than her.” Cullen: “Ah, I’ve met Cullen a few times before. He’s... he’s a better man than I once knew, I’ll say that.” Blackwall: “I’m definitely not qualified to judge. But he’ll treat you right, Inquisitor.” Solas: “Well, to each their own.”

Sexual/Racial preference: Panromantic. Any race.

Nickname for PC: My sweet

Romance only mission: Heskan asks the Inquisitor to accompany him to Valammar, where he has heard rumors of trouble brewing. The party is ambushed by Endrin loyalists who want Heskan dead for the alleged killing of his brother ten years ago. Afterwards, Heskan explains the details of his murky past, including why he killed his brother, and how he has always had to look over his shoulder. Choosing the dialogue response “Maybe I could look for you” locks in the romance, and Heskan expresses awe and joy that their casual flirting actually meant something.

Dialog to being asked for a kiss: “How could I refuse you, my sweet?”

Halamshiral dialog: “Just keep up that pretty smile of yours, my sweet. I promise I’ll put a real one on your face once the party’s over.”

Being asked to dance during mission: “As much as you want. Once this business with the Empress is over, of course.”

Asking to dance post-mission: “Come here... you’ve done so well tonight. If I can help you relax... I am honored.”

What Cole says about companion to PC: “The smile... it used to be false. Fake, fleeting, like feathers in the wind. But now... he is safe, secure...his sweet is here.”

Who is concerned about the relationship?: Varric, Cullen

Who supports the relationship?: Josephine, Leliana, Vivienne, Dorian

Who had a bet running on it?: Blackwall, Iron Bull, Sera

Banter(between NPCs):

Varric: So... you and the Inquisitor? Heskan: Ha, I never figured you for the jealous type, Varric. Varric: I - that’s... ugh.

Vivienne: A well-made match, my dear Prince. I congratulate you. Heskan: For once, Madame, I was not considering politics. Vivienne: Nonsense. Matters of the heart are just as political as anything else. Heskan: (chuckles) I suppose that on that count, we agree.

Iron Bull: So, are you a one-lover dwarf, or can I expect you again? Heskan: Why, Bull, you know I’ll never forget that magical night... Sera (if present): Ewww! How would that... oh. Fingers. Heskan: BUt in any event, you’d have to ask my sweet one. (The Inquisitor can respond favorably or unfavorably) Favorably Inquisitor: You could... if you don’t mind my presence. Iron Bull: The more the merrier! Heskan: My sweet, the Bull makes an excellent footrest. I’ll have to show you... Unfavorably Inquisitor: Sorry, Bull. He’s mine. Heskan: And I need no other lover. 

Flirt options: Upon meeting (gains Slight Disapproval from Varric), and at almost every interaction. Flirting with him enough unlocks his romance quest without needing to gain higher approval

Break up dialog:

If PC breaks it off: “I understand. It was fun while it lasted, though, eh? I’ll see you around, my - er, Inquisitor.”

If NPC breaks it off(and why): “I... I can’t condone what you’re doing, my sweet. I wish it could be different. I wish I could help you... but I cannot.” (Low Approval breaks off the romance)

Love confession: Heskan takes the Inquisitor walking along the battlements. “I... I never really thought I would find anyone who truly cared... but with you... I feel safe. I feel like... I could be happy.” The Inquisitor can flirt with him, which leads to a sex scene and lazy kissing in the Inquisitor’s bedroom, or say they love him, which leads to him pulling them to him with his bow string and kissing them deeply. “Then I am yours as long as you will have me, my sweet.” In either event, the Inquisitor can ask for a kiss or ask to “take a long walk,” which will result in a brief implied sex cutscene with a shirtless Heskan leaning over to kiss the Inquisitor in their bed.

Romanced tarot card: King of Pentacles

End game dialog: “You’ve done it. Beaten the villain, slain the dragon. I wish I could tell you it gets easier from here... but no matter what, I will be at your side, my sweet. Always.”

[crqstalite]

after adamant.

ugly little fic that i wrote in the middle of the night a while ago and shared with a friend. post-adamant about my inquisitor trying to rationalize their losses at the fortress and in the fade. nothing’s capitalized, so if that annoys you, this isn’t the little fic for you.

chose not to use warnings? im not quite sure what to use here, so tread lightly.

dragon age inquisition. 

-

she stays strong, after adamant it’s all everyone needs. she sees to the few wardens that had been at the keep, had offered inquisition aid.  they thank her thousands of times over, as uneasy as they are.

their senior warden, alistair, won’t meet her eyes. deep brown orbs looking anywhere but at her, even with a smile on his face. he thanks her, quietly. bandages wrapped around his side, muttering that he’d need to get a letter out to the hero of ferelden — tabris.

she leaves him, offering to let leliana find her. to let leliana send the message and get it back to him as soon as possible. he agrees, numbly is when she swings a leg over the elk in the morning, sun peaking over the rise in the distance.

she knows that look that settles in his dark brown eyes, that look that cries it should’ve been me. but she’s sure he knows what he must do now, to lead the wardens properly against corypheus. she thanks him.

he doesn’t say it, but he does respond that hawke’s sacrifice would not be vain. that shatters a part of her, seals her lips all the way back to skyhold. thankfully, marzeyna is lucky enough no one else is in a talkative mood. but they will be, with questions, with reactions, maybe with thinly veiled anger.

she’s not sure if she’s lucky or simply being lied to when varric seems more despondent than furious with her. he simply responds there are letters to write, to bethany, to other friends she’d made in kirkwall. they’d been close. she bites her lip hard enough to draw iron laced blood to keep from crying.

he hugs her.

though he’s not mentioned, marzeyna doesn’t make the request to send a letter to the mage anders. though he will be left in the dark, surely varric would know how close they’d been. the way hawke spoke of him, with a wistful tone laced with uneasiness, she doesn’t want to look into his eyes and tell him she was the reason reyna hawke would not be coming home.

she makes her rounds. to cassandra, to blackwall, to dorian. then to the others who learning of it secondhand, to leliana, who’d been hurt over justinia. to sera, to bull, to vivienne, to solas, who was fascinated about her journey into the fade.

she doesn’t indulge him. any other day, she might’ve, but not today.

marzeyna has to put on a brave face when she’s nearly hit with what she assumes to be a lyrium kit when she visits cullen. to think she’d thought she’d get any miniscule amount of comfort from anyone after her return, she would’ve thought, just maybe, that it would be him. but no, her nerves are shot and she’s terrified and can’t think straight. she hasn’t slept since before adamant, doesn’t even want to think about dreaming in the fade. and yet, she’s able to give cullen the strength he needs to go on. 

she wavers. her tiny form struggles to make it back to the war room after the moon has long risen in the sky. working, bent over the war table. they’d head out for the exalted plains in the morning. switch out her ground forces, get to work.

get her mind off the blonde woman that haunted her thoughts these days. piercing storm cloud eyes with dexterity over daggers that she’d never seen before. a determination to save mages from the templars that burned white hot within her, flames licking everyone she met.

her voice never wavering when she’d accepted her fate. a strong nod when she drew her daggers for the last time.

she shoves the knife meant for josephine’s diplomatic mission into the table deeper than she’d intended, grinding it into the table with a groan. her fire red hair falls into her face, her once tight ponytail loosening into a lump of curls at the base of her neck.

magic crackles at her fingertips, papers flying off the desk and fluttering to the floor. lelianna’s secrets, cassandra and solas’ requests, josephine’s agreements, cullen’s reports.

yanking off her gloves in front of the fire in her quarters, she grits her teeth when she can’t yank a swollen finger out of it’s respective sleeve. eyebrows knitting together in frustration, fire climbing her thoughts.

why hadn’t she been quicker? why hadn’t she forced them ahead with magic? she could’ve done something, done anything different. could’ve fade stepped them past the bastard. but no, she hadn’t done any of those things. she’d knowingly sent hawke to her death, not fought alongside her and alistair, but sent her away so she and alistair could get away.

the glove comes off, pain reverberating through her hand in waves. she kicks off her boots, the pair thumping away somewhere in the darkness.

she should be the one in the fade. running for her life, terrified in the darkness of the spiders she saw racing towards her. reliving nightmare after nightmare.

marzeyna was a mage. she could’ve handled it longer before she went mad. reyna was not, she was a young woman from kirkwall. a rogue no less. so stupid, marzeyna should’ve been the one to stay behind. from what little she understood of the tensions between varric and cassandra, hawke could’ve been the inquisitor. hell she probably was supposed to be. or alistair’s love, tabris.

both were older, wiser than she was. with only twenty five years on her, she wonders if some God with a sick sense of humor had decided it should be her. things had only gone wrong when she appeared in haven, half alive and delirious. justinia had died, the mage/templar conflict in the hinterlands that she couldn’t solve, alexius.

then they lost haven. and so many people. the smell of wood burning around her and screams of people being cut down by red templars. her advisors asking for orders, her mind spiraling in a thousand different directions.

she wonders if cullen saw the terrified look in her eyes when he’d spoken to her. saw her fumbling for answers, saw the little girl that had been given too much power, much too soon. had second thoughts about her being the so called herald of andraste. had wondered why he put his faith in her.

marzeyna lavellan. she was a mage. and a dalish elf. two of the most marginalized statuses you could have in thedas, and so many people still looked up to her. asked her what to do, trusted her not to lead them astray. 

hawke had trusted her. marzeyna had promised her she’d get her out alive, had promised she’d get her back to bethany. to anders. that they could do this.

she yanks a box, some sort of box, maybe empty off the desk and throws it, chucks it into the wall just off the windows. it crashes, shattering into splinters of oak. then something else holding an ink quill, lighter, easier to throw. that too shatters, ceramic maybe. it’s satisfying almost, anger and regret and everything in between flooding her emotions like a tidal wave. they drown her, choking her when she screams like a caged animal, chucking another small box into the wall. raw magic dances at her fingertips and lights her ablaze, body glowing a gentle white as hot tears slide down her face in rivers.

justinia. maybe. she’s needed her and there was nothing she could do. she failed her.

every single person in haven believed in her. they needed her when corphyeus arrived with his forces.

hawke had believed in her. smiled at her. told her jokes. at first skeptical, as any non andrastian would be. but quickly had become her friend. her first real one that wasn’t asking her what was next all the time. someone she could go to when her advisors were too much that day.

her hands clench into fists in her hair, sobs heavy and heaving as she slides to the floor in a heap against one of the walls. now hawke was gone, and it was all her fault. just like it’d been before. another person who’d gotten killed because of her.

she’d tried to justify her decision. the wardens would need someone to lead them through this possible blight. tabris would need him when she got back with her research into the fake calling. 

nothing answers when she thinks about hawke. she can’t justify her death. she was a good person, supported mages to a fault. didn’t seem the type to kick puppies. was friendly to everyone, had a sister, had a friend in varric.

then, why isn’t marzeyna dead?

she has nothing. clan lavellan maybe, but they’d surely replaced her by now, it wasn’t as if she was coming back now. it wasn’t like they were clambering to see her again. she’s a mage, she’s already being persecuted anyway. and it wasn’t as if what she’d started with cullen couldn’t be forgiven. it wasn’t anything serious, he could meet someone else.

sure, she was young. younger than most in the inquisition. but others still had most of their lives ahead of them. she had nothing. no future beyond what lie inside of skyhold.

hugging her knees, the pants legs begin to wet with the fat tears rolling down her cheeks. the anchor was the only thing that made her important, that kept people from actually wanting to get her killed. people put their lives on the line for her. and she couldn’t even return the favor.

her nails dig into her biceps, curling in on her herself as a draft whips into the room. a shiver after the fire chases it away. 

then why is she still here? she’s nothing, no one. 

and right now, she doesn’t want to be anyone. she doesn’t go to bed that night, reading reports until she can’t. staving off sleep to keep from drifting into the fade against her will. eyes blurring and burning when she dresses herself in the morning, she avoids varric’s gaze following her down the corridor to the war room. josephine follows, rattling off things she doesn’t understand. nobles. treaties. alliances.

lelianna and cullen join them a few minutes later. if they notice her hands shaking, they don’t say anything. a glimmer of concern in cullen’s eyes, josephine outright with the words on her lips, gently biting them back.

she should be dead, she chants when they arrive in the plains, i don’t even have a right to be alive. she should be here, and yet i handed the situation to her like the scared child i am.

it’s the beginning of many restless nights.

[americankimchi]

i!!! saw the tags on that solas post u recently reblogged and like. i feel u man. to be completely honest i can't stand romancing solas but i KNOW it's worth it for the plot aspect and it adds a whole other layer to the whole thing but i just can't hack it dude lol but also who are your favourite romances from all the games??

his condescending holier-than-thou attitude is INSUFFERABLE when you play a dalish elf like my dude tone down it the fuck down how anyone gonna want to bone you when you’re puking microaggressions left and right smh

“i don’t consider myself a part of your people” YEAH YOU SURE AREN’T MY DOGGIE YOU TORE THE WORLD APART AND THEN DECIDED TO TAKE A MF POWER NAP!!!!!!! AND YET HE STILL HAS THE AUDACITY TO CALL THE CULTURE THAT SPRUNG UP IN PLACE OF AN APOCALYPTIC EVENT, A CULTURE OF OPPRESSED PEOPLES DOING ANYTHING THEY CAN TO CLING TO A HISTORY THAT WAS REDUCED TO ASH AND RUBBLE, A PEOPLE WHO CHOSE FREEDOM EVEN IF IT MEANT A NOMADIC LIFESTYLE ON THE FRINGES OF CIVILIZATION, A PEOPLE DESPERATE TO SURVIVE AND HAVE SUCCESSFULLY DONE SO FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS CHILDISH AND IGNORANT LIKE MY DUDE……………….

instead of spending all that time wandering about trying to hit that mf reset button why dont u use all that energy and knowledge and power and TEACH the dalish about the past like i’m losing my mind this dusty ass raisin really THINKS……………..

don’t get me wrong i like solas a lot i think his character’s pretty interesting and actually really enjoyed having him around for my first playthrough (circle mage who looked up to solas as a mentor figure… and then he GHOSTED her ass like oh my god dude i gave u dragonbone equips… at least RETURN THOSE smh) but i also think he desperately needs someone to rip that massive pole out his ass and beat some sense into him with it like lord mercy this dude is truly off his mf rocker if he thinks my dalish inquisitor’s going to let him set fire to the world after she JUST got done fixing it like……….. nah. NAH.

needless to say that playthrough is still unfinished ghjkfhgj

as for my favorite romances…….

i mean do i even have to say it y’all know how much zevran means to me……….. love that antivan elf :’>

other notable ones that make my heart warm: leliana, alistair, fenris, dorian, iron bull, josephine, 

POURS ONE OUT FOR WLW CASSANDRA………… MY HEART WILL NOT GO ON……………..

sera’s romance woulda been up there too except it would only be the sera romance i wrote in my head and not the one we got in game because while it was aight that’s all it was. aight.

i never finished blackwall’s but from the glimpses i got in game i think i’d really like that one too :>

[seigephoenix]

DA OCs

Questions from this post: http://gothzenyatta.tumblr.com/post/145321138317

My Elaina Cousland, Guinevere Hawke, and Niyra Cadash for this one.  Under a cut because of length.

1. What would your Warden generally think of your Hawke and your inquisitor?

Elaina Cousland - I have met Guinevere Hawke.  I doubt she remembers me, it was just after the events of Kirkwall.  She's…  Best taken in small doses if you dislike crass personalities.

Niyra Cadash is a practical businesswoman who I respect.  While she's not the most diplomatic leaders, she knows her weaknesses.  And Lady Montilyet is a lovely woman to speak with.

2. What would your Hawke generally think of your warden and your Inquisitor?

Hawke - The Warden lost everything, was a wanted criminal, and rose beyond that to become Ferelden's fucking queen.  Hell yes I respect the hell out of her.  She's got a very nice ass too.

Niyra Cadash wouldn't have been my choice for Inquisitor.  I mean, this is supposed to be a religious organization, and she's not only a dwarf but a Carta dwarf.  Impressed with how she runs things.  Don't get into a drinking contest with her.  Skyhold is really cold, don't ask how I know...

3. What would your Inquisitor generally think of your warden and your Hawke?

Niyra Cadash - The Warden has my respect.  She's helped turn that country around and deals with whining nobles all day without stabbing one.  Impressive.

As for Hawke.  Can't hold her liquor for shit but after what she went through?  Hard not to respect a woman trying to atone for past mistakes.  Plus she's Varric's best friend.  The man may have questionable taste in certain things but he can judge a person very well.

4. What would they think about each other’s love interests (if they romanced someone of course)

Cousland - I've no doubt that Fenris is a lovely man.  He's definitely an impressive warrior.  And as for Isabela?  *smiles sweetly*

Hawke - You've slept with Isabela too?  *laughs*  Well, I mean.  It's obvious the King of Ferelden is still head over heels for his queen.  Ball and chain my ass.  As for Cadash's love interest?  I still wanna know the story from Varric.  He's kept his lips shut regarding his relationship with the Inquisitor.

Cadash - The King of Ferelden is still a fierce warrior who loves his queen.  What can I say?  I am a closet romantic.  Fenris and Isabela compliment Hawke, and I think their relationship works for them.

5. Is your inquisitor jealous that both the warden and Hawke have a mabari hound?

Cadash - Nah.  I have my own pet nuggalope.  And a dracolisk.  Kinda hard to top those.

6. What would they think of each other’s combat skills/techniques?

Cousland - Hawke's impressive on the battlefield.  Have you seen her lift that bastard sword?  As for Cadash, she's as in your face on the battleground as in the ballroom.

Hawke - Cousland's still a top notch archer.  She didn't train to be a Bard for nothing.  And Cadash hits hard with that shield.  Enemies underestimate her and she takes full advantage.

Cadash - Hawke's hot on the battlefield with that sword of hers.  Cousland's never gone soft on the throne.  Pretty sure most of the nobles know it too.  *laughs*

7. Are all your protagonists the same combat class? And what specializations did they take?

Elaina Cousland is a rogue archer that specializes in Bard.

Guinevere Hawke is a two handed warrior that specializes in Reaver.

Niyra Cadash is a sword and shield warrior that specializes in Champion.

8.What would your inquisitor and warden think of what happened in Kirkwall? Would they have supported Hawke’s decisions?

Cousland - Was there ever a right answer?  Too much has happened to say if what Hawke did was right or wrong.  She says she had no idea Anders was going to blow up the Chantry.  I believe her.  I cannot publicly make a comment you understand, but I don't see how she could have been wrong.  She did what a leader does, stepped up and made a choice.  Then lived with the consequences.

Cadash - Hawke made whatever decision she felt was right.  No one else was going to step up and do it.  She did it and lives with the guilt.  She's endured enough.  I would've supported her in Kirkwall for sure.

9. Would your warden or Hawke have actually accepted the role of inquisitor if Cassandra had located them as she’d planned to? Would they have been a good leader for the Inquisition?

Cousland - I'm afraid not.  Alistair would likely have a fit if I did.  But I wouldn't regardless, my time is done.  I'll lead my country until it's time for the next generation.

Hawke - You're joking right?  Me as the ‘Herald of Andraste’.  *dissolves into laughter*

10. Do your protagonists share the same opinions on the Chantry?

Cousland - While not perfect, it gives believers hope and guidance.

Hawke - It can kick rocks.  Though I'm okay with how the new Divine is running things.

Cadash - I'm a dwarf…  *pauses*  Let Leliana rule that department.  I've got nothing to say on the matter.  The ‘Herald of Andraste’ isn't exactly that religious anyway.

11. Do your protagonists share the same opinions on mages rights?

Cousland - We freed the Circle in Ferelden.  The mages govern themselves with scholars from universities and the Chantry alongside them.  It's worked for us.

Hawke - If I hear mage rights one more time. *shakes fist*  Look, no one deserves to be shackled.  No one.  But without some way of keeping balance corruption happens.  On both sides.

Cadash - Eh.  I let Viviene and Leliana handle that.  As long as it's balanced and fair I stay out of it.

12. Do your protagonists share the same opinions on blood magic?

Cousland - There are certain benefits if it is used without malice or a lust for power.

Hawke - Too much temptation.  Glad it's outlawed.  Nothing good has come from it that I've seen.

Cadash - I imagine it can be used like a tool.  In experienced hands, it can create masterworks.  In inept hands, disaster strikes.  I can't use magic so I prefer to leave it to the experts.

13. Do your protagonists share the same opinions on The Game?

Cousland - *sigh* a necessary evil if one wants to barter with Orlais.

Hawke - Fuck the ‘Game’.

Cadash - I hate it.  I'm not a diplomat so it was a disaster in Halamshiral.  Josephine almost throttled me after the incident in the garden.

Hawke - WHAT INCIDENT IN THE GARDEN!?  DID IT INVOLVE VARRIC!?  TELL ME WOMAN!

14. If they’d been in each other’s places would they have made the same or different choices? And who would they have romanced, if anyone?

Cousland - I believe I would in Cadash's shoes.  We both tend to look at the bottom line before making decisions.  *whispers* I might also have flirted with Cullen.  *clears throat*  

Hawke - I dunno about Cadash but pretty sure I'd make similar choices regarding Cousland.  Though I'd go for the witty assassin myself.  You're sure Morrigan isn't into woman?

Cadash - Who knows?  I probably would have in Hawke's shoes.  But my tastes run towards sarcastic dwarves that have a tendency for bad puns.

Hawke - Maker's balls, tell me how you and Varric got together!

15. Would your protagonists have the same character alignment?  

Oh definitely for all three.  That's who they are.  Though Niyra would be a bit more rough around the edges.  She'd have been 27ish in Origins and no one fucked with her at that age.

16. Would your protagonists have the same Hogwarts house?

Hahaha no.

Cadash - Slytherin.  

Cousland - Gryffindor

Hawke - Slytherin

17. If Origins and Inquisition had the 3 personalities (Diplomatic, Sarcastic, Aggressive) which would your warden and inquisitor have predominately been? And what one did your Hawke have?

Cousland - Diplomatic for sure

Cadash - Sarcastic/Aggressive

Hawke - Pure purple baby.

18. What is the biggest similarity between your protagonists?

Err their gender?  There isn't much too similar between all three really.

Cadash and Cousland are slightly more diplomatic than Hawke, so they share that in common.  They see potential benefits to making nice with nobles versus telling it like it is.

Hawke and Cadash both prefer to just say what they need to say.  Cadash's is tempered a bit with diplomacy and knowing the opponent.

19. What is the biggest difference between your protagonists?

How they view the world and deal with problems.

Cousland has seen war and what it does to men.  She's been betrayed and didn't let it destroy her ability to trust in people.  She's not the whole epitome of sunshine but she's definitely not the burn it to the ground types.

Hawke is a burn it to the ground types.  She's bitter about the events in Kirkwall and the betrayal from Anders was a slap in the face.  Carver had almost been a casualty of the Chantry, if he hadn't late thanks to Varric he would've been in the Chantry that night.  So she's got some major bitterness leftover.  It makes her less inclined to play nice.  Her found family in Kirkwall are the only exceptions to this.

Cadash balances diplomat and smartass.  Sometimes she prefers to be the smartass over the diplomat regardless of the outcome.  Overall she isn't a burn it to the ground unless all other options have been exhausted.  Then?  Then you'd better watch the fuck out because you won't see her coming.

20. Who handles responsibility the best? And who handles it the worst?

Cousland handles it the best.  She's used to it at this point.

Hawke the worst.  She isn't the best at handling it, and never wants anything heavier than what's for dinner anymore.

Cadash hates responsibility and pawns it off whenever she can if it doesn't benefit her.

21. Do they share any of the same hobbies?

No.  

Cousland - is a musician

Hawke - has learned how to forge weapons.

Cadash - writes in her spare time.  Don't tell Varric.

22. Would you ever ship any of them together?

Ah no.  They're too different to get along in a ship.  

Hawke - Mmmaaayyybbbeeee a one night stand.

Cadash - Well considering I'm the only one that hasn't slept with Isabela, I think that should be rectified.

Hawke - Don't tell Varric.  He'd write it into his books.

23. How old were each of your protagonists at the start of their respective games? Do you think their age affected the choices they made?  Looking back would they have done any major action differently?

Cousland - 19 at the beginning of Origins

Hawke - 24 at the beginning of DA2

Cadash - 38 at the beginning of Inquisition

24. How do each of your protagonists handle loss?

Cousland - She's lost so much that she's learned to keep it inside until in private.  She mourns by having a good cry and then talking about it.  Even if it is just to her faithful Mabari when Alistair isn't there.

Hawke - Doesn't deal with it well…  She likes to pick a fight with someone and just lash out as if a physical wound can help replace the emotional one.

Cadash - She gets quiet and retreats to a safe space.  Only a few trusted individuals are allowed close when she's grieving.

25. What is/was their relationship with their family like?

Cousland - was close to her family.  Is still close to Fergus.

Hawke - is close to Carver and Bethany.  Wasn't as close to Leandra, she always felt like a disappointment to her mother.  

Cadash - is as close as you can be in a Carta family.  Her mother and grandmother are the two matriarchs of the family and found it fucking amusing their grand/child was the head of the Inquisition.  She keeps in touch regularly.

26. Do any of your protagonists marry and/or have children?

Cousland and Alistair marry.  They have one child together after six years married.  A complete surprise.

Hawke never marries her partners but they all remain together.  No kids though.  They don't feel like kids belong in their little family, they each have too much baggage.

Cadash and Varric get married eventually.  He has to talk her into it because at first she thinks it's a joke.  No kids as they claim to be too old at that point for kids.

27. What would their fears on the graves in the fade during Here Lies The Abyss be?

Cousland - Betrayal or Succumbing (to the Taint)

Hawke - Failure

Cadash - Loss of Self

28. What is their favourite location within their own game and what would be their favourite in each others?

Cousland - Castle Cousland.  It's home.  But away from that?  Virgil's Keep.  I'd love to visit Skyhold.

Hawke - The Hanged Man, end of story.  The Herald's Rest in Skyhold.

Cadash - Skyhold for sure.  Though Varric tells me The Hanged Man doesn't serve mead that tastes completely like piss.  So we'll see.

29. How do they each feel about the Deep Roads?

*crickets* Probably better off not talking about that one with them.

30. Out of your Warden, Hawke, and Inquisitor, who is your favorite?

I can't decide.  I really can't.  Elaina was going to be my sunshine OC but she developed into a strong leader.  Cadash is my older OC (I'm 34 myself), so I can identify with her.  Hawke though…  Hawke is the closest.  I made her when I was in the depths of hurting and just wanted to lash out at how unfair my life was.  Then she stayed because I wanted to see if she could get out.  

So Hawke out of these three.

[cha0ticmimzy]

Here Lies The Abyss, part I

Author’s Notes: Word slips out from the soldiers about just who Sylthana is, and what she’s done. Cullen chooses the wrong time to approach her about it.  Word Count: 1943 Warnings: Spoilers for Here Lies The Abyss, and slight gore? Not really much of anything. 

“So, it’s true?” Cullen asked, voice soft as Sylthana carefully examined her blades. He’d been surprised when he’d entered her chambers only to find her entire bed and the desk covered with various blades of different sizes and poisons- so many poisons. “Your past?”

“Yes.” Came the simple reply as the rogue stood, holding a blade up to the light. It was crafted in such a way that down the center lay a vein that held poison. The poison was poured into it by the handle- a small panel that could be pressed upon, opening the chamber to hold the poison. Far safer compared to simply dousing a blade in poison and calling it a day! “I was a blade for hire. You knew that already.”

“No.” Cullen shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside the fireplace. “You know that isn’t what I meant, Sylthana.”

“What do you want me to say, Cullen?” She exclaimed, spinning around to face her lover. “That I’ve killed more men than you have? That I’m the creature parents tell their children of to get them to behave? That I could put the Antivan Crows to shame with some of the murders I’ve done?

"Or do you wish to hear of the exact details? How I’ve flayed men alive while they screamed out their secrets? How I’ve broken bones, pulled out nails, all to send a message or for coin?” Cullen’s face had paled, but she didn’t stop. He wanted the truth- he would have it. “Or better yet, what about the time I was sent to Orlais to slaughter an entire family while they slept? All aside from the child? I’ve done horrible things, Cullen. And once this whole… Shit show is over, chances are- I’ll do them again.”

Cullen was silent, studying the woman before him. Fierce- he’d known that from the first time he’d seen her, in the War Room. Terrifying- yes, he knew that as well, from watching her training against Solas and Varric’s attacks. Monstrous? The thought had never crossed his mind. But now, know that she was the Shadow of Fereldan- that she was a murderer, and a very accomplished one at that… It sent a chill across his skin. Heat, anger, coursing through his veins.

“I’m not a good person.” Sylthana whispered, oceanic hues dark with subdued anger. “I won’t pretend as if I’m some saint. I’m not.”

Cullen frowned, finding himself at a loss for words. She wasn’t a horrible person, nor a monster. But he couldn’t ignore the horrors of what she had done.

“… If you aren’t going to say anything, leave.” Her voice broke through the silence, and he noticed that she was shaking. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but- “Leave. Now.”

“… You aren’t a horrible person.” He murmured before he turned, making his way down the stairs quietly. He tried to ignore it, tried his best- but the sound of her sobs pierced the silence, then came the sound of glass shattering. Brow furrowing, he opened the door- and closed it. Let her think he left.

He would wait.

She didn’t need to be alone.

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed since that night. Three weeks since Sylthana had told Cullen to leave- and he left. Or, well- he didn’t leave. She knew he didn’t: after she’d stopped crying, she could hear him occasionally shift.

In the morning, though, he was gone.

She avoided him as much as she could, but eventually, she had to see him. She had to, because Adamant. Because of that damned mission. They needed to see what was happening, and Cullen’s men would be there. He would be there, leading his men. So would Hawke, and King Alistair. Two men she never thought she’d meet.

How odd, that in just a few months, all of this would happen.

Swallowing down her pride, she finished packing away her weapons and potions, pausing to stare at the coin Cullen had given her.

She slid the coin into a hidden inner pocket within her armor before leaving her quarters.

The Western Approach was hot, and sandy, and hot. Too bright, too. Solas stood to her right, Cassandra to her left, and Bull directly behind. Perfectly flanking her. Before her, the fortress stood- tall, imposing. Something was wrong- she could feel it in the air. The wind didn’t blow here, as if nature itself had sensed something was wrong.

Hawke and Alistair met her at the entrance, both men tall and menacing, yet holding a worried air about them. Hawke explained that blood magic was being performed, and that he would take pointe as she and Alistair went in first.

The sight of the fade rift made her blood curdle as her mark reacted to it.

“Inquisitor! So glad you could make it. Lord Livius Erimond de Virantium, at your service.” The man spoke, voice holding hints of a Tevene accent, as he bowed low at the waist. A mockery. Just the sight of him was enough to cause her skin to c r a w l. How disgusting.

“I’m guess you’re not a Warden,” Alistair spoke up beside her, drawing her gaze to the king.

“But you are. The one Clarell let slip.” Erimond spat out, disgust lacing his words. “And you found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?” He sneered.

“Looks like you’ve already done some of my work f o r me.” Sylthana chimed in, a cold, cruel smirk curling her lips.

“What, him? We simply needed his blood. Oh- were you hoping to garner sympathy? Maybe make the Warden feel a bit of remorse? Wardens, hands up!” As if puppets upon a string, the remaining wardens lifted their left hands. Sylthana bared her teeth in disgust as she drew out her blade. “Hands down.”

“Corypheus has enslaved them.” Alistair snarled out, disgust evident within his voice.

“They did this to themselves. You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked everywhere for help.” Erimond shrugged, as if it explained everything. Sylthana found herself hating the man more with every passing second.

“Including Tevinter.” Alistair finished, eyes narrowing.

“Yes, and since it was my Master who put the Calling into their little heads, we and the venatori were prepared.” The snake of a man continued to speak. All Sylthana could picture as slicing his throat open and letting him choke upon his own blood. “I went to Clarell full of sympathy, and together, we came up with a plan.” A moment passed as his words sunk in to those present. “Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake.”

Horror settled upon her bones. Beside her, she felt Alistair stiffen. Solas hissed softly, and Bull let out a disgusted grunt.

“Ah, I was wondering when the demon army would show up!” She pitched in, sarcasm coating her words. Behind her, she could hear Solas’ approving chuckle.

“You… Knew about it, did you? Well then!” Erimond was thrown off his game. A sly smirk curled Sylthana’s lips as she listened to the waver in his voice. “Here you are. Sadly for the Wardens, the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They’re now my master’s slaves!

"This was a test. Once the remaining wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas!” Erimond finished.

A snarl curled her lip upwards, a sharpened incisor gleaning in the desert sun. “That’s all I needed to know!” She all but growled out, bloodlust filling her veins.

Erimond smirked. “Oh, please,” voice saccharin, he tossed a hand up, red coating it before Sylthana’s mark activated. Pain ripped through her, causing her to let out a yelp as she doubled over, grasping her wrist.

“The Elder One showed me how to deal with you in the event that you were foolish enough to interfere again.” She collapsed, knees thudding against stone harsh enough to make her teeth clack before she doubled over. It felt as if liquid lightning were filling her veins. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. “That mark you bear? The Anchor that lets you pass safely through the Veil? You stole that from my Master. He’s been forced to seek other ways to seek access to the Veil.” Erimond explained, seething with hatred.

Sylthana let out a soft gasp as the pain subsided. Slowly, she rose to her feet- only to allow the Anchor to activate, closing the rift before her. “You talk far too much.” She murmured, more to herself than anything, as Erimond began to scamper away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Kill them!” Erimond called out in command. Battle broke out, demons and wardens alike fighting. It ended just as quickly as it started, however- Sylthana tried not to think of the innocent, confused wardens whose lives had been stolen from them.

Hawke jogged forward, blood splattered across his armor. “They refused to listen to reason,” he explained.

“You were right,” Alistair began, “thanks to the ritual, the Wardens are enslaved to Corypheus.”

Sylthana didn’t want to admit the sympathy she felt as she left the Western Approach.

Skyhold was chaos when she returned. Soldiers were readying themselves for battle, healers were scattered here and there. Scouts were constantly coming and go to and fro. She almost missed the Western Approach.

Had it not been for the blood magic.

Quietly, she slipped away, hiding within her chambers for a moment of peace. Which didn’t last long, for the sound of her door opening reached her. Heavy footfalls thudded upon the stairs, armor clinking with each step. Cullen. She knew it before she could even see his blond hair appear.

“Josephine told me where you were. I… Hope I’m not intruding?” He stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, as if he were ready to take off the moment she dismissed him. It sent a jolt of pain through her, but she dismissed it quickly.

“What is it?” She asked as she began to clean her blades. Cullen shifted his weight before approaching slowly, akin to how one would approach a wild animal. It made her want to laugh. Then again, perhaps that’s what she was- some sort of wild animal.

“I… Wanted to check in and see how you were.” His voice was so soft, so gentle. Oh, how it pained her to have hurt him. 

Sighing, she turned, sapphire gaze taking in the worry upon his face. “I’m fine. Tired from the journey back, but fine otherwise. Have Josephine and Leliana gone to the War Room already?” She asked, turning to strip off her armor. It wasn’t as if she were stripling down completely just enough to get the heavy breastplate and chainmail off. Yet, she still heard him move, turning his back to her.

A gentleman.

“They have.”

“Good.” Armor successfully taken off, she turned, and went to move past him. That is, until she paused mid step and looked up at him. “Cullen… I’m sorry.”

“You needn’t-”

“I do. I’m sorry. And I promise, we will talk- after all of this. Let’s get through this, and then we can talk.” A nervous weight settled upon her shoulders as she studied his expression. Relief danced with worry in his eyes, but he still nodded. Slowly, he grasped her hand and raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Of course. Lead the way, Inquisitor.”

[elevanetheirin]

100: “ I didn’t do it! ” For any pairing that strikes your fancy :)

Thank you for the prompt @long-liv-prairies 

For @dadrunkwriting

I Didn’t Do ItVarric, Angelique Trevelyan, Sera, The Iron Bull, Dorian and Cole.“The Inquisitor!” the whispering could be heard throughout the Great Hall.

Angelique stomped her way down the center aisle of the hall, green water dripping from her hair all along the rugs. When she reached the door out to the courtyard she didn’t even hesitate. 

“SERA!! You better explain this mess NOW!!” 

Screaming at the top of her lungs, Angelique gave no thought to what it looked like for the Inquisitor to stand in the courtyard wrapped in a robe with a soaking green head. She honestly didn’t care either. Until now she thought all of Sera’s pranks were cute, even when she put the bee hive in Cullen’s training dummy. All she’d wondered is how she got it in there. This however was NOT funny. She was going to have to walk around Thedas and meet people with a green head! This was ridiculous to say the least and to top it off she thought she and Sera were friends.

Sera finally came running after the fourth time of her name being screamed so loud all of Skyhold was now dead silent. Sera ran so fast she slid when she tried to stop nearly knocking the Inquisitor down. When she looked up at Angelique her mouth dropped open. 

“What in Andraste’s name happened to your hair? Sera asked

“Ha ha very funny Sera, I don’t know what you did to my hair soap but you better tell me how to get rid of this or you can just pack up your shit and get out now!” Angelique was furious, she balled up her fists and her face turned red.

Before Sera could answer Josephine was beside Angelique shushing her like she was a child. 

“Inquisitor, you cannot continue to stand here dressed like that, what will the nobles say when they go back home? That the Inquisitor is a savage and has no manners? We can’t have this on the Inquisition, not if we are to gain…”

Josephine couldn’t even finish, Angelique yanked her arm from Josephine’s grasp and stomped back into the Great Hall towards her quarters.

“ONE HOUR Sera, that’s how long you have to fix this!” Could be heard trailing behind her.

Sera wasn’t even mad, she was shocked. This wasn’t a prank that was fun, this was just mean! Angelique couldn’t go about her job saving Thedas from that giant hole in the sky and expect to be taken seriously, at least not NOW, it’s not like she’d always had green hair. Sera was however mad at whomever had done it because she was getting the blame and if there was one thing Sera hated it was being blamed for something she didn’t do. If she was going to get into trouble she’d damn sure do it herself. She stood up and dusted herself off. She was going to need some help finding the guilty party but who could she ask? She thought a while and decided as wrong as that thing Cole was maybe he would be the best “person” to help her, after all he could read minds.

 She went upstairs in the tavern but Cole wasn’t there. Just great she thought. Now who can I get to help? She wondered who would believe her and who was smart enough to actually help her find the culprit. Just as she was starting to think she’d have to just pack her things and go even though she hadn’t done anything she saw Dorian walk through the tavern door. 

Sera ran as fast as she could to stop and talk to him but again, she slid only this time she stayed upright and slammed into him knocking him to the floor. 

“My dear Sera, could you possibly be any more oblivious to your surroundings? I was standing right there!” Dorian huffed

“Oh shut it magey I was coming to talk to you.”

“That’s great Sera, but this isn’t talking, this is you sitting on me while I am lying on the ground, now get off.”

Sera rolled off of Dorian and stood in one fluid motion that always surprised Dorian, Sera was far more graceful than one would think if they saw her stomping around, more like a druffalo in a dish shop. Dorian brushed himself off slower than usual, which for his was slow because he was very thorough as a usual thing. 

“Ok Sera, out with it, what is it you want?” 

“Not here stupid! People will hear us!” Sera pulled Dorian out the door of the tavern and up to the battlements. 

Sera told Dorian what had happened and he chuckled, “Why do I get the feeling you were involved Sera?”

“I DIDN’T DO IT”, Sera whined “If I had done it I would have said so, that was a mean thing to do to her and you know I don’t do mean not unless someone deserves it and the Inquisitor doesn’t deserve anyone to be mean to her she’s helping people!”

“Fine, fine Sera, if I help you and I find out it was you, then you’ll have more coming to you than you just leaving the Inquisition, I’ll turn you into a toad.” Dorian smirked at the thought of a toad Sera.

The pair decided to split up and cover more ground, at this point Sera only had 45 minutes or so until she had to either correct the problem or leave and she was panicked. Dorian went off to the rotunda to speak to Solas and Vivienne, which was fine with Sera, she hated those two. Sera went back into the tavern to see what The Iron Bull and his Chargers knew about it. 

On her way to see the Iron Bull Sera overheard Varric laughing in the back corner. She crept over to listen in to his conversation. There he was with that Grey Warden that was visiting, Alistair, Blackwall and a few of the Chargers. The group was laughing so hard Blackwall spit his ale across the table. Sera hid in the shadows and listened. 

“So, when we were at the Wounded Coast, Hawke found this berry that she used to dye some of her armor green, Merrill told her it’s what the elves use sometimes which is why all the elves there wear that green armor.” 

Sera stepped out of the shadows. “Varric! It was you! How could you do that and she’s blaming ME!?”

Everyone stopped talking at once and turned to Sera all the eyes on her creeped her out but it got worse when she heard the voice behind her.

“What is she talking about? I didn’t do anything. Sera never makes much sense and even less so now.” Cole added “It wasn’t Varric, Sera, he doesn’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you’re the one who made Inky’s hair green Varric! Admit it! She thinks I did and I didn’t do IT!” Tears were now forming in her eyes and she hated crying especially in front of people. 

“Listen  Buttercup, I didn’t do anything to Torch, I certainly would make her hair green! If I were going to color her hair it would be red to match her personality.”

“What’s this about redheads?” Bull ducked into the alcove taking up any excess space still available. 

“Nothing Tiny, not about redheads. Someone’s made the Inquisitor’s hair green and she thinks Sera pulled a prank on her.” Varric eyed Sera.

“I’m telling you it wasn’t me!” Sera finally had had enough of the attention but couldn’t leave because Bull was taking up so much space.

“I told them the herbs would make the soap green, I told them this would happen but they said use it anyway. The Inquisition needs soap, I only did what I was told, and now I’ll be sent off alone. I can’t survive out there alone.” Cole whispered.

Now everyone was looking at the quiet figure standing in the corner. “Hey Kid, what did you say?”

“One of the mages, she’s an herbalist, they brought some herbs and told her to make some soap. She said it wouldn’t work, it would turn anything it was washed with green. They told her to do it anyway. Don’t make her leave, she didn’t mean to, she tried to tell them!”

Sera sighed, Bull turned to head out the door, Varric and Sera followed behind him. “Come on Kid, let’s go see this mage huh? Don’t worry, it’s not her fault, we won’t let them make her leave.”

The foursome headed to the tower that had just been refurbished and furnished. There they found the tiny elven mage, not more than 15 years old who Cole said had made the soap. They kindly asked her to come with them and explain to Angelique. The mage was frightened at first until the entire group explained they would protect her from any repercussions and assured her this was not her fault. When they reached the entrance to the Great Hall Vivienne, Solas and Dorian appeared. The group was now nearly the entire make up of the Inquisitors usual traveling companions. 

The large group drew much unwanted attention as they entered the Inquisitors quarters. At the top of the stairs they saw Cullen holding Angelique and trying to comfort her. 

“You look good in green Love, and it’s bound to wash out eventually.” he whispered while wiping tears from her cheek.

The Bull cleared his throat, when the couple turned around everyone was looking at the floor, like they wanted to be anywhere but there but a quiet voice spoke up.

“I’m sorry Inquisitor, this is my fault.” everyone could hear the shaking in the little mage’s voice and everyone began to speak at once trying to clear her name. 

When it was finally explained Angelique started laughing. 

Sera took a step forward, “I told you all I didn’t do it!” 

This made the whole group laugh and they each hugged Sera one at a time and although she’d never admit it to any of them, she felt like she was home, even if they did blame her for things she didn’t do. She knew that they loved her. All of them, because they wanted to help clear her name.

[mysdrymmumbles]

Andraste’s Witch - Chapter 70 - NSFWish?

Pairings: Slowburn Cullen x F!Witch!Inquisitor

Rating: M for later chapters which will include violence, PTSD, withdrawal,  angst, body horror (think red templars), and possibly other stuff that I will be sure to tag. This is not actually a grimdark story, but I just wanna give people a heads up for stuff that will happen. There will also be fluff and friendship and magic (though to be fair, this is Thedas, so magic will not always be positive and very rarely as adorable as that last statement implied).

Genre: Action/Adventure with elements of romance  

Summary: Cullen’s mulls over his past and wonders about the present.

I should probably wait until next week to post this, but fuck it, lol. Thank you for reading <3

Andraste’s Witch

Chapter 70 - The Commander’s Broken Heart

Since the night he’d held her at the edge of camp, Finley had been avoiding him. Cullen was sure of it.

Maker, Josephine had even suggested they talk. She’d said that Finley seemed even more on edge than usual and that Cullen seemed to have a way with her, but the way she said it had made Cullen worry that perhaps Finley had said something to her, and she was trying to resolve matters before Denerim.

There was tension between them, and he knew Josephine had to noticed it.  

He’d tried to tell himself that he was just overthinking things, but…

But everything was making him on edge.

Worse, he kept hearing people whispering about some damned bet. He’d asked Cassandra about it, but she’d simply shrugged and said she’d heard of one that was how long it’d take her to kill Varric, so she wasn’t really interested in knowing what the newest one might be.

With the pace they’d set for Denerim, there wasn’t a lot for him to do, other than ride and think things over. And his mind was merciless. It replayed his most recent interactions with Finley, thinking about the way she might reach for him, then pull away, as though she were troubled by something. The way she twisted under his gaze, like she was…afraid.

Of what?

Him?

He would never hurt her…

He almost wished Alistair was there, if only to give him a distraction. The man had spent his childhood screaming in Chantries, so Cullen didn’t doubt he’d be good for a laugh or even an argument. At this point, he would have taken listening to a victory speech about how ‘witches’ had to be real.

Unfortunately, Alistair had stayed back at Skyhold. When Finley had asked Alistair if he was coming with them—stars in her eyes and hope in her voice—he’d said no.

Well, there had been snorting, extreme exaggeration, and even a short giggle from Finley despite herself.

The famed grey warden was certainly good at drawing a smile from their Inquisitor…

But no, Alistair was going to wait for Hawke to get back, as Hawke had sent word that they’d found something important. Considering how he’d marked all of his letters to Skyhold as important, telling them that they needed to allocate resources they didn’t have to help people who wouldn’t let them in their country, Cullen wasn’t sure how serious to take the latest message. However, Alistair had been firm in staying behind.  

Cullen was fairly certain Finley wanted to toss Hawke off a cliff for claiming the warden’s attentions, but Cullen hadn’t been able to mind that part so much. The man could trip into a room, and Finley was giddy and girlishly adorable.

She never did that with him…

He supposed he ought not to be jealous, considering she was sleeping with him, not Alistair, and yet he could not keep his scowls at bay. And a relationship between the Inquisitor and a warden outside of the Inquisition wouldn’t cause the same sort of stir as her finding comfort in her commander’s chambers…

Maker, help him.

Even with Finley’s adoration for every warden she met—at least it seemed so—he still wished Alistair was around, if only to distract him from the facts that Finley was avoiding him and that he had no desire to meet with King Cousland.

Maker, don’t let that man remember him. Please, please, please…

He’d been a no one back then, a pitiful wretch, mad from the horrors he’d seen, when Warden Commander Brosca had led her group in to save the day. It had been bad enough that Alistair had seen him that way, but he’d never thought of the strangers.

That he worked with Leliana now was a certain level of misery, as he still expected her to bring up Kinloch Hold at some point, though she never did. He was glad of her silence.

Perhaps, even if the king did recognize him as the raving madman from the tower, he would keep quiet about it.

It was a hollow hope.

King Cousland had been one of the more vocal members of the group who had saved the Circle. At the time, Cullen had thought the noble a blessing, a voice of reason that should have given credibility to his own demands.

He could still taste that bitterness in his mouth from when Knight-Commander Greagoir had refused to kill the remaining mages, not seeing them for the dangers he was certain they posed. With all that had happened, all those who had pretended to be a decent sort only to turn into murderous abominations, how anyone had been able to argue with him had been madness in his mind at the time.

Cousland had agreed. Better to cut them down now than to have them take out the remaining templars and make sure that the Wardens’ treaty could not be fulfilled.  

Warden Brosca had been ready to toss both Cullen and Cousland into the lake, hissing that she’d like to see them swim in their armor. She’d had more choice words, though they’d been directed at Cousland rather than Cullen, and all he’d known was that Alistair and the others with them had managed to calm things down.

In the end, they’d gone on to save the world, and he’d gone to Greenfell to ‘recover’. As though all he’d been through was something that could be gotten over with a bit of fresh air.

Granted, after the first month, he’d thought that…

He’d been a fool, a young, traumatized fool, who’d sought comfort in the first arms that would take him.

Ellendra.

He’d needed someone, anyone to keep him grounded in reality, and Ellendra had offered him her hand and her bed. He’d been desperate to learn and please, to do anything that distracted him from his memories, anything that kept him awake long enough that he was too tired to have the nightmares that haunted him.

He hadn’t loved her, but at the time he thought he had. She’d been his first, and he’d felt that with her he could build some semblance of a life, something constant, something different. He’d even mulled over leaving the Order a night or two, though he hadn’t known what he’d possibly do with his life if he wasn’t a templar.

And then that had fallen through as easily as it had started, and he’d requested transfer, again wanting to be anywhere but where he was.

Knight-Commander Greagoir had suggested he not head off so quickly, that he take the time to allow himself to get better—that he would fight for the Order to allow Cullen that. He came by a few times—when he could spare—to check up on Cullen, though he’d seen the old man’s visits through a haze of betrayal, after the lenience at the hold. The knight-commander had tried again and again to talk to Cullen about what had happened, to encourage him to work through his problems.

But he couldn’t.

And he couldn’t stay in Greenfell. To know he was just one in a long line of Ellendra’s lovers, to know that he’d meant as much to her as he had to the demons that had toyed with him…

He’d needed to be anywhere else.

And so even though Kirkwall was the largest Circle in Thedas, he’d gone there when he’d heard of an opening, hoping to recover some part of himself that he’d lost by throwing himself back into the dream he’d had ever since he was a child.

He would be a protector, someone who would keep the innocent safe from monsters.

Before he’d thought that meant keeping regular people safe from abominations, and keeping mages safe from mobs.

After the madness at Kinloch Hold, though…

His concept of monster was already blurry when Meredith had gotten ahold of him, and she’d done nothing but make sure that the lines were redrawn in all the wrong places, the places he feared they should be.

She had been so confident, so firm, that he’d trusted her. She’d been the strict, stern leader that he’d wanted Greagoir to be. She didn’t give the mages chances to fall to temptation, she protected people.

Or so he’d thought at the time.

Because of that, he’d been her most loyal templar, one of the many reasons that he was promoted so quickly to her second in command.

There were rumors that he was Meredith’s plaything, though it held no merit. Their relationship was strictly professional, and he’d figured that any relations with mages or other templars would lead to nothing but heartbreak or manipulation.

Linda had been a poor waif in Lowtown who somehow always managed to be around and in need of saving. While he’d initially looked into her, suspecting her of helping blood mages seeing as she was always somehow involved with them, it ended up that she was there for him. She fancied him and risked most anything for a moment or two to talk.

After a particularly bad night, he’d fallen into her arms much as he had with Ellendra, just wanting a distraction from everything that was wrong with his life.

She’d been kinder, gentler, and yet he’d never been able to coax his heart into their affair.

They’d carried on for a few years, until one day she came up and told him that she was getting married.

Cullen had been surprised that that hadn’t hurt him like he would have expected it to, but he’d figured that that was what his life was. A series of short reprieves from the usual misery of the horrors that lay just beneath the surface, that haunted his nights.

After that, he’d limited himself to The Blooming Rose when he absolutely couldn’t stand the loneliness that smothered him.

It had been well enough, good enough for someone like him.

Though, as he’d realized what was going on in the Gallows—what he was letting happen—he’d turned away from even that.

Meredith had not been amused when his gaze had turned inward toward the templars, when he’d started listening to Ser Thrask and First Enchanter Orsino.

She’d been even less thrilled when he’d brought several templars to the Grand Cleric’s attention for their crimes against mages after Meredith dismissed him.

It was like he’d made a declaration of war against his superior, and even as he feared lines would be drawn within the templars, he learned that they were already there, and that he’d been on the side of the real monsters.

Maker, he’d been one of them.

Suddenly, he’d found himself having to make sure Ser Thrask or one of the mage-sympathetic templars were out hunting down apostates with him, or he’d find himself getting shouldered into boulders or shield bashed in the face as a fellow templar ‘mistook’ him for a mage in the heat of battle.

All accidents, of course.

And while it was a monster coordinating these things, he couldn’t help the slithering, twisted self-loathing that curled inside him, whispering that he deserved at least this much.

He deserved to be hurt, to be lonely, to suffer as those he’d neglected had suffered.

When he’d left the Order to join the Inquisition, he’d hoped he could find a way to atone, to…not to make up for what he’d done. That could never happen. But he’d wanted to try to be the man he’d dreamed of being when he was boy.

A protector.

He’d never even considered he might find someone…let alone a mage who held the key to saving the world. That someone like Finley could even consider him…

He’d given up on romance long before he realized he didn’t deserve it, and yet here he was, jealous of a hero because of the way the woman he loved seemed drawn to him.

His mind stopped at that, for some reason, slowly playing back his most recent string of thoughts.

Cullen nearly fell off his horse as what he’d thought processed. Snapping up and alert, he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his near accident, though no one seemed to be paying him particular mind.

He ran his fingers through his hair, staring ahead, heat creeping up into his cheeks.

Maker, he loved her.

He loved Finley.

How?

How could he love her already?

Even as he wondered, all he could do was think of the way she spoke, of the quiet, hesitant smiles she gave him, of the way she came to him before anyone else, the way…

Maker, help him.

He wanted to offer her a ride on his horse, just to feel her body against his. Theirs was a slow enough pace that they could have talked off and on.

Talked and touched and…

And she was avoiding him.

Had she figured out before he had and been scared off? This was…it was far too soon. Love was something that took time and…

And he needed to see her.

When they’d camped for the night, he made sure the guards were posted and then searched for Finley, only to find that she was being as elusive as usual, though Leliana had assured him he needn’t worry and so he’d figured the spymaster had eyes on her wherever she was. Despite wanting to keep looking for her, he’d given in, his body weary from the days on the road, and headed to his tent.

However, when he reached it, he found a small paper tied to his tent flap’s tie. He unraveled it, a mite bit annoyed, especially seeing as the delivery reminded him of Sera, and she was supposed to be back at Skyhold.

He scanned the letter carefully and then sighed. The misspellings screamed that Sera had stowed away with them. While he didn’t care so long as she didn’t cause any mayhem, he knew that Josephine would be concerned if she found out.

Perhaps he’d forget to bring it up.

The note, however, said that he’d find something important at the stream just south of where they were camped, and so he headed off, even as he wanted to do nothing more than crawl into his tent and pretend to sleep as his mind played through every interaction he’d ever had with Finley and why she might be mad at him at present.

When he reached the stream, he found another note tied to a branch—almost hidden—that pointed him to the right.

As he wondered if he should have his blade drawn, he wandered along the brush, watching the water flow past, quick enough that it was clear and crisp. The underbrush and foliage were dense enough that—while it could hide someone easily—he doubted anyone could move through it easily to prepare a sneak attack, so clearly the notes hadn’t been alerting him to a possible weak point near the camp.

If this was some simple diversion tactic…

He forgot about sneak attacks and pranks the second he heard a surprised gasp and looked up to see Finley. She was sitting on a large rock beside the water, washing her long hair.

It was one of the first times he’d seen it nearly tangle free, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched her, imagining for a second it was his fingers in her hair.

“Commander.” Her voice was hesitant, as though she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. He was surprised by how much that caution hurt.

“Finley.”

At her name, that small, quiet smile he so loved whispered across her lips. It was gone too soon. “Has…something happened?”

That was what he wanted to know.

“Someone left me a note that I should come out here.”

“Oh…” He could see the gears turn quickly in Finley’s head as she assigned blame to the appropriate parties. So she knew Sera was here.

Wonderful.

She’d shed most of her clothes to keep them from getting wet as she fought with her hair, and the way her under shirt clung to her made him want to take her in his arms and cast it aside with everything else. To feel her heart beating with his, to…

“You shouldn’t be alone out here.”

“I’m used to being alone,” she retorted, shrugging and turning back to her original task.

Cullen stepped up beside the rock she was seated upon, watching her muscles in her bare arms move beneath her skin a few minutes before he managed to gather his thoughts.

“You could be hurt.”

“I’m used to getting hurt.”

Cullen flinched at that. A thousand responses flitted through his mind. He was sorry, even though he’d never hurt her himself. He wished she wasn’t used to it. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be ever again.

There were so many things he wanted to say, and instead, he stood there, close enough that he could reach out and cup her face in his hands, and yet feeling like he couldn’t.

“Finley.” Before he’d realized it, he’d knelt in front of her, peering up into her face, searching her expression. He wanted to ask what had happened between them. He’d found her in the woods early on when they’d started traveling, and she’d been crying, and she’d… He’d held her for a little while before taking her back to her tent.

The next morning, there had been a change, though, and he wasn’t sure what had caused it.

“Cullen.”

Her voice was soft, but the sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver through him.  

“I just…” she trailed off, letting her hair fall against her back and shaking her head. “I miss the Wilds. It’s a lot easier when you know what to expect and what will likely happen and…here…nothing makes sense.”

Without thinking, he finally breeched that impossible distance between them, fingers gently brushing across her jaw and cheeks. He just wanted to do something, anything that would help her. “You’re not alone with that. Everything’s a bit of a mess right now.”

Finley leaned into his touch, closing her eyes as she brought her hand up to hold his. Even as she pressed a kiss into his palm, she straightened up, worried. “Am I…should we even…” He leaned toward her as she struggled to find her words. “I don’t really get how to do this. With you. Everything is so complicated.”

Cullen blinked, staring up at her, at the earnest worry settling on her features.

She looked away from him, wincing as she started to say something, and he couldn’t help himself anymore.

Leaning forward, he caught her lips with his, moving his hand back to the nape of her neck, as he moved his lips, seeking to memorize hers.

There was a second’s hesitation that almost made him stop, before her fingers were in his hair, tugging him closer.

He moved with her, surging up and pushing her down onto the rock, his knee propping himself up slightly over her as their hands wandered over each other, desperately seeking bare skin. One of her legs slid up along his to wrap around his waist, though Finley stopped short, pulling away a little.

As she caught her breath and he fought the urge to simply kiss her again, she bit her lip. “Cullen…your sword is pressing into my leg.”

“That’s not my sword.”

“What I’m talking about is.”

With a glance, he saw the problem—obvious thing that it was—and felt like an idiot. Of course he was still wearing his sword on his hip. Even as he cursed how in the way it was, hand reaching to his belt he stopped himself.

Something had cracked in the woods. A stick.

Cullen held his breath, waiting to see what would come of it. Finley was the one to dismiss it. “It was just an animal.”

When he looked back at her, however, he couldn’t shake the fact that someone could have snuck up on them, and they would have been caught off guard.

Maker, he was supposed to be protecting her, not putting her in more danger.

She seemed to be on the same page, already sitting up and running her fingers through her hair to make sure it was still clean.

“I’ll…stay with you until you’re ready to go back.” The words were forced, and he was half afraid to meet her gaze, that he might lose himself in thoughts of touching her again.  

She simply nodded, reached out, and squeezed his hand. Then she was back to finishing up with the last few tangles in her hair. Cullen watched her, trying to keep his attention on their surroundings as well, though he had a hard time with that when they were so close.

Turning his back to her, he walked away a few paces, trying to think of something to calm the fire in his blood. Abruptly, he straightened up and looked back at her. “You were going to say something.”

“Hmm?” Finley braided her hair quickly and turned back to her clothes.

“When I kissed you. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just…” He wasn’t sure what to say that would excuse his actions, but he didn’t want her to think he would just kiss her to get her to stop talking or…

She hesitated at that, fingers gripping her shirt with more force than necessary as she stared blankly at the fabric.

“It wasn’t anything important.” She tugged it over her head and then gave him a hesitant smile. “Just a silly fear.”

That gave him pause.

That she’d been willing to open up to him made him want to press the matter, and yet…

Cullen could understand not wanting to talk about things well enough, and so he nodded, reaching out and lightly catching her hand. “Alright.” A light blush settled on her cheeks when he squeezed her hand, and he motioned back toward the camp. “We should get some sleep.”

As he let go of her, she drew in a slow breath, nodding before she exhaled. “We reach Denerim tomorrow, yes?”

“We do.”

“We…we’re not going to be there more than a few days.”

Cullen gave her a reassuring smile. “We’ll be heading back to Skyhold by the end of the week.”

As he gave her that assurance, she let out another slow breath, tilting her head back and staring up into the branches overhead as they wandered back. “I’ll be glad to have this past us.”

“As will we all.”

And for the first time that night, she gave him a more genuine smile, stretching up on her toes to kiss his cheek before winding her way back through the trees to camp with the soft, quiet ease that made him wonder if he hadn’t been wrong in assuming it would be hard to have a sneak attack in this area.

He’d order a few more guards before he went to bed.

He’d messed up so many times before, but this time he would act as the protector he’d sworn he would be.

He would.