#leliana nightingale imagines

[sxrensxngwrites]

The Inner Circle Crushing on Someone from a Different Background -- Part Three

this request comes from anon, who asks: 'Head canons for the main dragon age squard (if you feel up to it of course!!!!) About them crushing on someone from a different background (example: cullen and someone rich)'

I ended up splitting this up because I got carried away... my bad. If you want any of these to be revisited or you want me to go into more detail, feel free to shoot me another ask! The same can be said if you want DA characters from different games.

Part One (Blackwall, Cassandra, Cole) Part Two (Cullen, Dorian, The Iron Bull) Part Three (Josephine, Leliana, Sera)

JOSEPHINE:

The Montilyet family, while of note, had to carefully tend to their money and businesses in the aftermath of being barred from Orlais. Still, Josephine and her siblings regularly interacted as (and with) members of the nobility in Antiva and Orlais. Josephine herself, while a romantic, is particularly understanding of many different aspects of life and knowledgeable on things outside of the upper class.

Station in society has very little to do with Josephine falling in love. For her, it comes down to a matter of character. She has a soft spot for the romantic, but places good-deeds and honor above all else. Meeting someone of a more humble origin isn’t necessarily how she expected to fall in love, but somehow she’s enamored with a stablehand for the Inquisition. They’re very kind, always tending to the requests she has within record time, and respecting those around them regardless of occupation.

Josephine falls hard. At first she denies it; she has very little time for romance when there are holes in the sky, plus someone back in Orlais has already spoken for her. Yet, she can’t help but be consumed by the gentle stable hand–and the concept that their love might be forbidden. She doesn’t give into fairytales as easily as her sister does, however, so she dismisses her feelings away as a crush. To her, it’s not only illogical to fall in love during wartime, but it’s also improbable that she would get to pick her spouse as the eldest of her family that borders on ruin.

It takes some meddling from Leliana for Josephine to confess her feelings. After that, it’s only a matter of time before her beloved stablehand somehow catches wind of it. They’d never believe that Lady Josephine would ever reciprocate their feelings, so they didn’t dare try anything. But, with rumors of her feeling the same, it was now or never. It takes a while before Josephine is comfortable with the concept of a long term relationship during such trying times. However, if they can fall in love while holes are in the sky, then telling her family and other suitors should be a piece of cake.

LELIANA:

Leliana grew up across Thedas, parts of her life being contributed to Orlais and others to Ferelden. Having been a bard in the Orlesian court and a Sister in the Chantry, Leliana is influenced by a number of places and cultures. She grew up being tossed from place to place, never having much of a clue of where she would land next.

When she meets someone that catches her interest, she never anticipates that they’ll be so different from her in origin. She likely anticipates that they’ll also have been raised in the church, but instead it’s quite the opposite. They’re oblivious. They don’t seem to have much care or awareness of the world around them, only interacting with the world that they directly make contact with.

When Leliana first meets them, I think they frustrate her quite a bit. Leliana has always had to be very careful with every choice she made as a young woman, so when she meets someone who she sees as “careless” she wants nothing to do with them. She keeps her distance, making sure that they operate through Leliana, Cullen, or even the Inquisitor. Yet, she can’t deny that they’re quite attractive–even if their actions seem so odd to her.

After a close call in the field, they’re humbled quite a bit and become aware of the stakes of Thedas that Leliana had warned them of. Following said close call, they become more conscious of their actions and try to be more careful on the field. This change probably makes Leliana’s romantic interest deeper, rather than it just being physically attractive. They even approach Leliana for advice–an action that moves Leliana and makes her consider how they’ve changed. It takes a while for either of them to be fully comfortable with one another, but after some humbling experiences the two draw closer.

SERA:

Variety is the spice of life for Sera. Everything new or different is automatically better in her book. She seeks adventure in the mundane and hardly ever takes the easy way out. In fact, anything similar to her upbringing is a little stale to her in some way. However, Sera’s past is a bit of a mixed bag. Her early life was spent in an elven alienage before she was taken in by a human woman. So anything outside of the realm of Ferelden qualifies as different. Yet, Sera rebukes her own connection to the upper class–citing it as her cause to protect the “little people” of Thedas.

Upon meeting someone of the upper class, Sera would quickly group them in with all of the other nobility that she and the Friends of Red Jenny hate. Someone with such a high position and influence isn’t to be trusted in her eyes, especially when they could turn at a moment's notice. She keeps her distance, even reporting them to the Inquisitor on several occasions–so that they can keep an eye on them, of course. Sera even plays pranks on them since they make such an obvious target for the Friends of Red Jenny. However, as Sera watches from the shadows she begins to reconsider her opinion.

They’re of noble birth and have a substantial amount of money, but they use it in such a way that many other powerful people do not. They support the people of Haven, and they help purchase blankets for the displaced villagers of the Hinterlands. In fact, most of their money goes to people who need it more rather than keeping for themselves. Sera wants to change her perspective entirely, but a deep part of her is afraid that it’s all an elaborate trick being played on her.

She confronts them in the middle of the night, even drawing her bow in their face. Yet, they don’t seem afraid in the slightest. In fact, they seem relieved that it’s Sera. It takes a bit of discussion for Sera to put her bow away, and even longer for her to realize that she might’ve been wrong about them. Those seeds of doubt develop further into romance, but her eventual partner doesn’t have an issue using their station to support the people of Thedas.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

[nadas-dirthalen]

Has anyone speculated that Rook is called Rook because Leliana might have recruited them and/or sent them to Varric?

Reasons:

her alias as Sister Nightingale (bird codename already existing)

the fact that she is in the Rookery in Skyhold despite rookery meaning only "nest for rooks" (according to Google) and not, as I thought, "tower full of corvids"

her current/former existence as spymaster? I mean, even as Divine, that's what I imagine she's doing in my worldstate lmao

it was Leliana that said to any Solasmancing Lavellan that she would start looking for Solas immediately after Corypheus' defeat

Leliana, regardless of whether she is Divine, is in the post-Trespasser cutscene about recruiting someone new to help in the hunt for Solas — maybe she still wants him found and is still working to that end!

See also: their hoods. Both the same muted purple.

Please, where are my Leliana-recruited-Rook truthers, I'm so soft, I want Leliana to help as much as Varric but from a much more cautious distance, send help

[princehendir]

imagine if the night before the battle of your lives you overhear your two friends have some sort of argument but you can't make out what it's about, and then later you overhear friend A have some sort of hush tense conversation with friend B's boyfriend, and like you wonder what the hell that's all about but you decide to respect everyone's privacy and also the next day everyone seems fine enough so maybe it was just stress? And then 10 years later you bump into friend A again (she went mysteriously missing immediately after the battle was over and friend B clearly felt a way about it but none of your business) and she has a 10 year old kid who looks EXACTLY like friend B's now-husband. That happened to Leliana Nightingale.

[thebookworm0001]

Overheard in the Rotunda - Banter update

A prompt from @roseategales "solas and leliana (and perhaps inquisitor) talking about orlesian bards?"

Summary: Solas and Leliana discuss Bards and the Inquisition.

Link: AO3

Solas: Before you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden, you were a Bard, were you not?

Leliana: It was why Most Holy made me her Left Hand. She needed someone who could do the things she could not, and whom she could trust. 

(cont. under cut)

Solas: Of course. It would not do for the divine to be seen with blood on her hands, after all. 

Leliana: And you have no blood of your own you wish to be clean of?

Leliana: The Most Holy is a symbol of peace. To see her strained would be to tell all the people of Thedas that their hopes of a better world are impossible. That not even the Maker’s Chosen can escape violence in the end.

Solas: And yet your Andraste waged war. And was made a martyr for her efforts. It would seem to me that those chosen by the Divine are by their very nature doomed to violence.

Leliana: Is a peasant working the field served by that knowledge? When met with an injustice of stolen chickens or ruined crop, is it better that he look to a better or baser nature?

Leliana: The Divine does what she must to keep the peace across all Thedas. If a subtle knife slipped between the ribs of a nagging lay sister is what prevents the common people of Ferelden or Orlais from taking up arms against their neighbors at every imagined slight, then I shall be glad to have served as that implement. 

Solas: You had great faith in Justinia’s cause.

Leliana: You disapprove.

Solas: No. It was not a judgment, merely an observation. 

Solas: The means of those whom we admire are so rarely as righteous as we wish them to be.

Solas: I hope your Divine was worthy of your trust.

--

Solas: A question, Lady Nightingale: Why not engage Bards in the service of the Inquisition? 

Lelaina: You think I do not? I shall have to complement my agents on their subtly, then.  

Solas: I am certain you have employed those with Bardic skills, many of the best even. But their talents are best used to intimidate nobility by their possibility.

Solas: Bards are consummate performers. Skilled in the arts of entertainment and murder and feared perhaps even more than the Crows of Antiva. Their ability to woo, inspire, and dishearten is the stuff of legends. 

Solas: Why levee such a force only against the Orlesians? A less obscure employment may be of use.

Leliana: An interesting opinion for an apostate to hold, Messere Solas.

Solas: Even wandering apostates know of a Bard’s reputation. And the opinion of the masses holds more sway than any ruler would dare admit. Would it not benefit the Inquisitor for her to be seen commanding such a force?

Solas: Would Ferelden’s peasantry not be captivated by the romanticism? Nevera’s leaders not made curious by the development? Antiva’s assassins compelled to consider the new power in its borders?

Solas: You say that the Divine is a symbol, is not the Inquisitor also? As precarious as her position is, should we not press every advantage to command those attentions? 

Leliana: An interesting proposal. 

Leliana: I shall consider it.

--

Solas: Your agent betrayed you, yet you did not neutralize them? From the rumors, I had assumed you would not let such a slight go unanswered. Why allow such a vulnerability to remain.

Leliana: The Inquisitor stayed my hand.

Solas: Ah. The Inquisitor is a merciful woman. It is an admirable trait. But for what must be done, I worry that perhaps she hands out forgiveness too easily.

Leliana: Perhaps. I have wondered as much myself. Our enemies will not pause because we stay our hand.

Leliana: But perhaps she may yet prove that a better way is possible.

[illusivesoul]

A new chapter of my Femslash February 2022 fics, a year later lol. Morrigan/Leliana angsty smut.

Words: 2076 Read it on AO3

The flame engulfed the tip of the incense rod. Waiting a moment for the fire to warm it, Leliana blew into it to put it out, and the red hot tip of the rod emanated a powerful scent that began filling the rookery.

The spymaster sat against the stone wall, eyes closed as she let herself be enveloped by the smell of the incense and the warmth of the candles, though the comforting gaze of the statue of Andraste gave her all the warmth she needed.

She had come to value these moments in the dying hours of the day. All the crows were away, and they would begin arriving as soon as the sun started to crest over the horizon. Her agents were resting or away on missions.

.

For a couple hours, she would have the comforting silence she had come to enjoy, with only the moonlight that crept through the clouds and the window to keep her company.

She would have the silence and shadows that had become her home.

Closing her eyes as she kneeled in front of Andraste, she let the words fill her mind.

"The army of the faithful gathered before the gates of the city

Wept openly. And from among them voices raised

In threnody for Andraste wreathed in flame.

Though the fire enveloped her like a shroud, and the heat from the blaze

Reached across the field, Andraste was silent and did not cry out.

And the legionnaires who stood guard nearby

Were shaken, and began to whisper among themselves:

"Is she truly the servant of a god?"

The loud caw that rang across the rookery made the verses of the Chant vanish from her mind, and she instinctively found herself holding her dagger in front of her, her mind and body honed to confront threats at any moment should they arise.

Yet her eyes found nothing but the emptiness that had been her comfort just moments before.

A loud swooping sound was heard, and darkness enveloped the room as the candles were snuffed out, with only a few rays of moonlight preventing the darkness from completely overtaking the rookery.

Another caw, and when the brief noise of a spell vanished, a familiar presence made itself felt.

“I can smell you, witch”

“But can you see me, nightingale?” The voice whispered by her ear as a cold hand placed itself softly on top of her eyes, blocking her vision as another softly wrapped itself around her neck, the unnatural cold creeping into her skin making it clear that there was magic at work.

Leliana felt her resolve waiver, her grip on the dagger loosening as her hands fell to her side as Morrigan’s mouth found her neck, making a desperate gasp leave the spymaster’s lips as a deep kiss that would surely leave a mark was etched into her skin.

And the sensations stopped.

Opening her eyes and swiftly turning around, she was met by a smirking Morrigan , a large black robe covering all of her body and a half smile set on the witch’s face, enjoying the anger she saw rising on the redhead’s face.

“So predictable. You always did have that weak spot on your neck”

“Why are you here, Morrigan?”

“Must we play this game every time, Leliana? We both know I’m not here to join you in your praying to a statue and your silent maker” 

Leliana’s gaze followed Morrigan as she started to pace around the rookery, her long fingers tracing the shape of the now darkened Andraste.

"Shouldn't you have already run back to Celene's side? She must miss you greatly. I know she's found quite a lot of uses for your tongue, most of which go far beyond advice on the magical and the arcane"

Morrigan let out a brief but loud laugh "The Inquisition's dreaded spymaster jealous of the empress of Orlais? My, my. Jealousy is such an unbecoming trait, Leliana. I do understand your frustration though. I imagine being the left hand of the Divine and a woman of faith doesn't let you use your tongue in the ways that you so much enjoy" 

Morrigan's eyes drifted to the dagger in Leliana's hand, seeing the fingers tighten around its handle before she sheathed it.

"Would you have preferred that I'd be advising the Inquisitor instead? So we could gaze angrily at each other and exchange barbs during the strategy meetings? Getting you all worked up so that you can then push me into the many dark corners of this castle and…"

“Get out”

“The Inquisitor told me how you described me. ‘She's ruthless. Capable of anything’. Surprised you didn’t tell him that I ate children and set towns on fire for fun. Though you’re not one to tell stories anymore, from what I’ve heard”

“As if I would need to exaggerate to describe your… wickedness. I merely made the inquisitor aware that he should not let his guard down around you. The rotten apple doesn’t fall from the tree, after all” Leliana replied as she stepped closer to the witch.

Morrigan huffed, but Leliana noticed the way the witch’s fists clenched “Looks like your tongue hasn’t dulled. Shame you hardly put it to use other than to pray to the nothingness”

“You’d do well to leave now”

Morrigan leaned into the statue, and with a subtle movement, the robe partly opened, letting Leliana see enough to make whatever resolve she had left vanish.

“Make me, spymaster”

Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The spymaster's gauntlets hit the ground as Leliana pushed Morrigan against the wall, their mouths locked into a fiery kiss that made them both gasp loudly for air. This was the part that the witch always enjoyed the most, seeing Leliana's barely contained anger transform into unbridled passion. She pushed the woman's head downwards, Leliana gasping in pleasure as her lips moved from Morrigan's neck to the space between her breasts. Her head lingered there. Morrigan softly kneaded the red hair, and they didn't move for a moment. Too soft, too intimate, too vulnerable for her liking.

She nudged Leliana's head to the side, and the woman wasted no time in capturing a hardened nipple in her mouth, her hands softly grabbing the breast and massaging it. Morrigan closed her eyes and gasped as she listened to the pleasured sounds coming from Leliana as her lips and hands did wonders on her tits.

She knew how much the redhead enjoyed this, and she in turn took her pleasure out of hers.

The seas shall rise and devour them

The witch raised her hips to make them meet Leliana’s hungry mouth as the spymaster kneeled in front of her. The mouth that by now knew every fold, mark and line spot of her skin. The redhead placed one leg over her shoulder, placing some quick kisses on the stretch marks that adorned her stomach before burying herself in Morrigan’s core.

Morrigan moaned, letting out loud groans that filled the rookery as Leliana's fingers toyed with her soaked folds, her face buried in the black mound of hair between her legs, taking every scent and drop that came from the woman.

Morrigan buried her hand in the woman's red hair and pulled her back, Leliana's needy and wanton filled groan as her mouth parted from Morrigan’s fold making the witch’s knees feel weak. The sheer look of despair and want in the redhead's blue eyes as she met Morrigan’s along with the glow of wetness that covered the lower half of her face made a shiver go up and down the witch's spine.

Leliana tried to move forward, but Morrigan pulled her back, drawing out another groan in frustration from her before letting her finally plunge in once more.

The wind shall tear their nations

Leliana gasped against the cold stone as Morrigan held her closely from behind, her armour coming undone with the swiftness that only familiarity could bring.

Her legs spread, and the cold air coming through the roof brushed against her skin, but the feeling was soon drowned by Morrigan's fingers slipping inside her, curling upwards and reaching that spot that made the spymaster's knees weak at the same time as the woman’s other hand reached around her and began softly rubbing her engorged clit.

The redhead pushed against Morrigan, their bodies being as close as they could be, their moans uniting and turning into the symphony that they had grown accustomed over the years, a music that was only meant for their ears.

“Say it” Leliana demanded amidst her moans.

“Make me say it”

Leliana grabbed the back of Morrigan’s head and turned hers to meet her eyes “Say it, Morrigan”

“I… I love you” The witch answered, follow immediately by a curling of her fingers inside Leliana and another brushing of the woman’s clit, making the spymaster dissolve into a trembling mess only held upright by Morrigan’s grip.

They laid down on top of the black robe on the ground as Leliana’s climax passed, Morrigan enveloping the two of them in a comforting magical warmth that made the cold mountain wind vanish from her minds.

Morrigan moved her hand from Leliana, only for the spymaster to grab it and press it firmly around herself, not before planting a soft kiss on the palm of the witch’s hand. Morrigan placed a soft kiss on her neck as she held her tightly from behind, feeling the rhythm of their breaths moving in tandem as her eyes got lost in the full moons that shone their light over the two of them. 

“Are you still awake?” Morrigan asked after some time.

“Yes”

“Aren’t you going to ask about Kieran?”

“I want to, and at the same time I don’t.  You’ve made it clear that you don’t want me to be part of his life”

“I never said that”

“You did not have to. Your actions said it for you. He is already old enough to remember things, Morrigan. I’d rather he not think of me at all than be the woman he’ll see once every couple of years or once every decade when her mom decides to stop by. Because her mother is an egotistical, selfish…”

Morrigan felt her stomach sinking as she heard the pained hush Leliana let out, and she could tell without seeing that there were tears running down her face “Maker, you break my heart, Morrigan. Every time”.

Morrigan waited until enough time had passed, until Leliana’s breathing told her she was lost in the world of dreams before uttering words that only the 2 moons in the sky would listen “I am sorry, my love… for everything”

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

The loud caw that reached her ears made her eyes snap open as she stood, her heartbeat raising at the swiftness of her movement. As her vision cleared from the tiredness of sleep, Leliana saw several crows standing on the railing and near their cages, filling the air with their noises and with the small rolls of papers containing important information tied to their legs. 

"Morrigan?" Leliana asked as she stood, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold morning wind that entered through the open window brushed against her bare skin as the first rays of sunlight appeared over the horizon. 

She stood and took a few steps before noticing the large black robe on the ground. Wrapping it around herself, her eyes closed for a moment as the lingering traces of the perfume reached her nose.  The witch was gone. Leliana knew she wouldn't stay. She never did.

As her sight moved to the other side of the room, where the sunlight had started to shower the statue of Andraste. Yet this time, the statue's gaze gave no warmth, no comfort. Just an emotionless, cold, judging stare that Leliana felt it pierced the depths of her soul, so much that she had to turn her eyes away from it.

Once again she felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, the want to feel anger but only being able to feel regret, the constant longing that perhaps this time it would have been different, that perhaps this time… she would have stayed.

She knew better, yet she kept hoping.

"Morrigan?... Morrigan…"

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find only silence.

[herenya-writes]

Day 13: Rise

Balls were hardly Dorian’s favorite pastime. Oh, the dancing was beautiful and the food was the best that could be found, but there were too many politics and hidden daggers to actually enjoy the splendor. That was true in Tevinter and it had proven true in Orlais as well. There were not one, but several attempted (and executed) assassinations tonight, and of course there was the whole plot against Celene.

He had no idea how Arlaros managed it all. They had left the ball no less than three times to go exploring, and each time they had been forced to fight either agents of Corypheus or one of the many factions in this little civil war. And yet, each time Arlaros had been able to slip back into his polite smile, dance, and charm the nobles of Orlais. The final time they had returned with proof of the plot against Celene, Arlaros had strode onto the dance floor like a god about to cast judgment.

These people thought of Arlaros and the elves as lesser, as unworthy of being noticed, but Arlaros demanded and held their attention better than even their empress did. His accusations against the grand duchess were met with shock but not disbelief. He had laid the proof bare, saved the empress’s life, and wrapped up their civil war with a nice little bow. He was everything they hated, and he had beaten them at their own game.

One day, history books would be written about this. Dorian wouldn’t be surprised if in the future there were scholars who dedicated their lives to learning everything there was to know about this one event. And he had the privilege of seeing it firsthand, of being at Arlaros’s side.

He took a sip of the wine one of the servants had handed him ages ago. From the balcony where he stood, he had a line of sight to where Arlaros stood speaking to Celene and Briala. No doubt he was doing what he could to repair that relationship, too. Personally, he didn’t think there was much to salvage, not when Celene had thrown her lover away and Briala had stirred up so much trouble throughout the empire. But love was a strange thing, and if anyone could get them to come around to it it would be Arlaros.

He was still watching them when Leliana stepped onto the balcony. “His rise through Orlesian society has been meteoric,” she remarked, following his gaze. “These people distrust and disbelieved him when he first walked into the ball, and now they are quietly singing his praises. I would not be surprised if the Inquisition finds itself with new friends before the night is through.”

Dorian chuckled. “Friends? These people are snakes. Not as bad as it is in Tevinter, I suppose, but they’ll all be watching Arlaros like hawks, waiting for him to stumble. These are not the kind of people who appreciate a hero.”

“The Game is dangerous and fickle, but the Inquisitor has played it well. He has given the Inquisition greater legitimacy in the eyes of the court; Lady Montilyet and I will ensure we keep it.”

Dorian turned to her then and saw a smile playing on the Nightingale's lips. “You actually enjoy this, don’t you?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Of course. As I imagine you do.”

Maybe he would have, another time. There was something morbidly fascinating about watching people scheme and plot against one another all while smiling and sharing dances. He understood the ebb and flow of power in the room, and he knew he could have swept among them and begun pulling strings himself. His heritage would have made it difficult but not impossible; the Orlesians respected cunning and elegance, and his parents had instilled both in him from a young age.

But then his eyes wandered over to Arlaros again, who was bowing slightly to Celene, and any thoughts of playing the Game vanished. No, he couldn’t enjoy tonight the way Leliana could, not when he knew the toll it had taken on his lover.

Leliana hummed thoughtfully, as if she had read his mind, a skill he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had. “Tonight has been taxing for the Inquisitor. Repairing an empire that isn’t his own is no easy feat.”

Dorian nodded. He watched as Arlaros turned away from Celene and Briala, only to be swept into conversation with some noble. This time, Arlaros was turned toward him, and he could see discomfort in his posture.

He turned to Leliana. “Do you think you could keep people from this balcony?” he asked. “I’m about to rescue our dear leader.”

Her smile widened for just an instant, and she nodded. “I will not be able to hold them off forever, but you will have some privacy.”

“Thank you.”

Dorian slipped through the doors of the balcony and into the crowd. No one stopped him as he made his way toward Arlaros. In fact, no one seemed to notice him until he was at Arlaros’s side. At any other time, he might have been offended, but he was too busy scanning Arlaros’s face for signs of weariness to care.

A smile twisted onto Arlaros’s lips when they locked eyes, and the need to sweep his amatus away from these vultures grew urgent. He turned to whoever it was that had trapped Arlaros and plastered on a smile. “If you’ll excuse us, my lord?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He tugged Arlaros back through the crowd until they reached the balcony where he was finally able to look him over properly.

“You look gorgeous, amatus.” He hadn’t planned to say those words, but they made Arlaros blush such a delightful color and Dorian was overwhelmed with the need to kiss him. So he did. It was short and barely there given all the watching eyes, but it thrilled him all the same. Kissing Arlaros always thrilled him.

“Flatterer,” Arlaros laughed. “I’m sure I look exhausted, and I think there’s a bloodstain on the hem of my pants. Tonight has been…”

“Torturous?”

“Something like that.” Arlaros sighed and leaned against the rail of the balcony. “These people never say what they mean, and they’re all looking for ways to use me and the Inquisition to further their status or to slight their rivals. I don’t understand how Leliana and Josephine can do this type of thing all day. Josephine actually seemed to be enjoying it!”

“Our Sister Nightingale was in her element, too. They were born to play the Game, and they’ve mastered it.”

“Well, they can keep it. I think I’d rather fight demons than do this.”

Dorian chuckled and moved closer, so that their legs and arms were almost brushing. “The night will be over soon. Just a few more dances and then we’ll all be able to leave.”

“Will you join me for one?” Arlaros asked, turning fully towards him. “If I have to be here, I’d like to dance with my lover at least once.”

Love and fear warred in Dorian’s chest, and he ducked his head. “I’m not sure that’s wise. You’ve worked hard to earn the favor of the court. Wouldn’t want to ruin it by openly consorting with the scary Tevinter mage.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Dorian felt Arlaros’s finger under his chin, lifting his head. He obeyed the urging and met his lover’s warm eyes.

“Fuck the court.” Arlaros whispered, his flashing eyes contrasting his gentle voice. “I just saved the empress’s life and ended a civil war. I should be allowed to dance with whomever I want. If they have a problem with that, I’ll just have to remind them how much they need me. And I need you.”

If not for Arlaros’s fingers under his chin, Dorian might have melted on the spot. Arlaros was too good, too kind, too brave. There were a dozen reasons they shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t be even this close. But Arlaros had chosen him, again and again. And he was choosing him now, in front of the entire Orlesian court. He refused to let his own fears hold them back from this.

He swallowed and stepped back, immediately missing Arlaros’s warmth. He bowed and held out a hand, copying the gestures the Orlesian nobles had been performing all night. “Will you honor me with a dance, Lord Inquisitor?”

Arlaros took his hand with a smile and copied the bow. “The honor is all mine.”

They stepped onto the dance floor hand in hand, and when the next song began, they danced. They danced and danced, and for once in his life, Dorian didn’t care who was watching. His eyes stayed locked with Arlaros’s as he did his best to memorize the feeling of Arlaros’s hand in his and their bodies swaying together in time with the music.

As the dance ended, Arlaros pulled him in for a not-quite chaste kiss, and Dorian sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Maker. Arlaros was brave enough for the both of them.

[crossdressingdeath]

No but imagine Quiz being fairly well known as a spy (like how Sister Nightingale the bard is fairly well known), except they actually kept their true identity a secret so no one in the Inquisition knows about it. And given most of the Inquisition wouldn't be super keyed into the international spy scene (does Thedas have an international spy scene? There are enough spies around... Anyway, it could be an AU) odds are good that only Leliana and Bull (and maybe Varric, given he's apparently a bit of a spymaster himself at times) would even know that this spy existed. But of course they're a big enough name that them getting involved would be a concern so it's like...

Leliana: Your Worship, you must be wary of this spy. Quiz, that spy: Sure thing, Leliana, I'll keep an eye out for them.

But also romanced Bull finding out about this little secret and being extremely heart eyes about it because his kadan being a renowned superspy is hot as fuck.

[hawkezone]

THE SEAT OF POWER

In the wake of Fen'Harel's escape, former Inquisitor Angus Trevelyan handles his transition from being Ostwick's most finicky and least eligible bachelor to being on the arm of Minrathous's finest; while juggling the beginnings of an elven rebellion. A Trevelyan-Dorian & Fen(m!)hawke imagining of the events leading up to Dread Wolf, Part One.

CHAPTERS: ♕ [1] [2] [3] [4]

♕

Chapter One: The Sun Shines In Winter

Lord Angus Trevelyan was a man of particular tastes, though he tried rather hard not to let those tastes betray him. His quarters, however, at Skyhold, the bustling castle to which he called home, were a matter entirely different: Here, where he need not worry about bolstering the Inquisition by seeming brave and inapproachable at all times, he had allowed for the most - in his esteem - ludicrous of vices; brandies from Antiva, fine furnishings from Val Royeaux, bespoke window fittings by Orzammar artisans featuring delicate, yet carefully provocative, inscriptions of the Inquisition in charming red and white; the centerpiece of his quarters was a massive, canopied bed with seizable wings in the Orlesian style, atop which sat a golden mask which, in Lord Trevelyan’s opinion, leered at him a little bit too much when he sat down to write his letters.

Next to his respite was a solidly stuffed white nug-leather couch, upon which the object of his affections, the rebellious Tevinter mage Dorian Pavus, sat in a position of agonizing repose, loudly and dramatically flipping through a missive that the spymaster, Leliana, had placed in Lord Trevelyan’s trust earlier that evening.

“‘The amorous tale of a guard-captain and her stalwart love, standing together against crime - with crimes of passion’?” Dorian read aloud, in a sing-song, mocking voice. “Varric’s really outdone himself with this one. The back copy writes itself. Which, evidently, is a testament to how predictable he’s become.”

“Predictable?” laughed Angus, with a bit of a snicker. “Varric’s tales are anything but predictable. Tell me you saw the twist with the Champion of Kirkwall fighting the Arishok in single-handed combat coming in The Tale of the Champion? You couldn’t. You didn’t.”

Dorian pouted. “Yes, but that was technically nonfiction. I’m not sure Varric’s penny dreadful romance serials are based on anything real. Or anyone behaving realistically, I’m afraid.”

Angus, who was stationed at his desk a few feet away sorting through a pile of letters, gave a playful shrug. “People around Varric tend not to behave realistically. Besides, I’m fairly certain there really is a Guard-Captain Aveline in the service of Kirkwall’s city guard. I think Josephine has forced me to address several of these insufferable letters to her, in fact.”

Dorian frowned doubtfully, looking back down at the dog-eared hardcover. “Yes, I’ll give you that, but could you imagine such a woman saying - and I quote - ‘The fire that burned Andraste is second in tempestuousness only to the fire for you that burns in my loins’?”

Angus shuddered. “Knowing Guard-Captain Aveline, I think she might punch me in the face for saying about half those words in her presence.”

Dorian laughed airily, and tossed the book back onto the floor, from whence it came. “Why did the old Nightingale leave this for you, anyway? Has she gone soft? Or is she attempting to get second in line under you after you unceremoniously throw me to the dogs?”

Pausing, Angus set down his letters, turning to face Dorian with a look of small concern.

“You know I don’t feel that way, Dorian,” he said, softly, saying his name with the gentle air of someone who wants to carefully coddle a pigeon without hurting its wings.

For a moment, Dorian’s face looked sad, as if believing that fact would lead to some sort of horrible tragedy, a case which he’d clearly wore over many times in his head before.

Crossing over the room, Angus gently placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, and gave it a little squeeze. “The book is Cassandra’s,” he continued, back to his usual perky banter. “I caught her reading it in the courtyard the other day, and it was one of Varric’s that I hadn’t gotten my hands on yet, so I asked to borrow it once she was done. Leliana had it delivered since one of her scouts had passed by the Seeker earlier in the day.”

Angus gave Dorian’s shoulder another squeeze. “I know you were joking,” he clarified, but he still looked concerned.

Unconsciously, Dorian brought his hand to Angus’s on his shoulder, as he idly played with Angus’s fingers. He looked a million miles away, as if he was contemplating thoughts as deep and dark and far away as Tevinter itself.

But in a moment, just as suddenly as he disappeared, Dorian perked back into life, giving Angus’s hand an elegant lift and turning to face him, with a glittering, cocked smirk on his face. The kind of smirk that sent Angus into a fiery oblivion where nothing else existed except pulling his paramour’s hair back and asking him his deepest darkest fears.

“I know you know,” Dorian said, rising from the couch with his hand still on Angus’s. “I’d never be worried. I’m willing to share. But I also know I’m twice as valuable as a social option than that washed-up Orlesian tongue-wagger.”

Angus laughed, pulling Dorian close. “Well, I’m not willing to share. But I am absolutely certain you’re a champion tongue-wagger.”

Dorian chuckled, wrapping his hands around Angus’ formal collar. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

-

The mood around the war table was tense, but not in the least due to Angus’ behavior at Halamshiral the previous evening. It had been a long one, and even though certain members of the Inquisition enjoyed social events and the playing of the Game more than others - Ambassador Josephine coming to mind, who had been beaming and speaking glowing anecdotes about the party at the Winter Palace to anyone within earshot all morning - others, like Commander Cullen, were not only hungover, but sorely tired of all the political machinations and forced how-do-you-dos a visit to Orlesian court entails.

Nursing an actual hangover in addition to, in his unfortunate estimate, a nasty bout of lyrium withdrawal, Cullen groaned as Leliana tapped the table for the hundredth time, arguing with Josephine over how to best navigate the new royal couple next.

“We cannot simply bow to their demands and deliver the Inquisition’s aid on a platter,” Leliana called, emphasizing each point with a jab on the table with her gauntleted finger, causing Cullen’s headache to stab in rhythm.

“Sending a thank-you note is not delivering us on a platter, Lady Nightingale,” Ambassador Josephine retorted, eagling haughtily over her writing tablet. “It is simply a matter of common courtesy.”

“It sends a message, Josie,” Leliana continued, her voice exasperated. “Let them come to us. We helped them, so let them make the first move. I swear, sometimes I wonder how you ever survived playing the Game.”

“And sometimes I wonder how long you made it without someone evicting you from the premises,” Josephine added, sniffing.

At that, the large oaken doors to the War Room creaked open. A formidable figure, dressed in all black with crow’s feathers to match, marched up to the table, dusting herself off as she passed.

“Have I missed anything?” Morrigan asked, eyeing the crew at the table. “Have you been antagonizing your compatriots again, Leliana?” she continued, darting a daring glare and a satisfying smirk at the Nightingale.

Leliana frowned, but it was out of pure habit. She was not going to let Morrigan’s antagonizing get to her today.

“They usually get along much better than this, I swear,” Angus added, a bit helplessly, as Josephine glared, Leliana tapped, and Cullen sank deeper into his attempts to shut out everyone’s blathering.

To his surprise, Morrigan laughed, a breezy one, unlike what he expected from the dour witch he’d only recently become acquainted with.

“I warrant I’ve known Leliana for much longer than you have,” she said, cryptically, to which Leliana sighed.

“You were both traveling companions of the Hero of Ferelden,” Angus said, reaching back into his head on his lessons on Ferelden history. As a resident of Ostwick, in the Free Marches, and as someone who had relatively little interest in court intrigue beyond the fun parts, the parts with hors d'oeuvres and outfits - Angus’s recent imposition into the position of Inquisitor led him to wrangling his every last shattered memory of who’s who, who’s done what, and who’s the Champion of Where in order to continue attempting to steer the ship in some kind of order.

“That’s one word for it,” Leliana said, with a snort, and, for once, Morrigan nodded in agreement.

“We were friends, if you could call it that,” Leliana said, carrying on. “It is difficult, I think, to go through an event as serious as a Blight without forging a connection to those closest to you.”

“What we had all been through, Your Worship, would bond one another for a lifetime. But, of course,” Morrigan continued, leafing a single finger along the edge of the War Table’s map, in a dramatic and inviting gesture calculated specifically, Angus thought, to antagonize Leliana - “our Nightingale here is simply remembering how the Hero left her for Good King Alistair.”

At this, Leliana spluttered, causing Cullen to look up with either interest - or annoyance, in a new unexplored flavor - and Josephine’s eyes to go wide, as they usually did when salacious gossip was on the table.

To her credit, Leliana narrowed her eyes, and buckled down into her old Orlesian self, giving the most astute reply she could muster under Morrigan’s toying, and satisfyingly mean-spirited, gaze.

“We were more than friends, yes. It’s true,” Leliana said, not breaking eye contact with Morrigan, but addressing Angus directly, it seemed. “But her heart was in another place. And I think it’s fine, Morrigan, that things ended the way they did. Don’t you?”

Morrigan sniffed, apparently having failed to get under Leliana’s skin. “I suppose. Not everyone can have a happy ending, like those stories you tell in your life as a bard? Insipid as they were, they seemed to keep our friends happy on those nights where they were too bored to make their own fun.”

Leliana glared, and folded her arms. “You simply do not understand the kind of relationship Antoinette and Alistair and I had prior to her - her betrothal. And Alistair is a friend. Perhaps our feelings were simply too nuanced for someone like you to understand.”

This seemed to set Morrigan off, and her eyes flew from detached cat-and-mouse to a brief, but blinding, rage.

“Do not tempt me with your guesses at how capable I am of feelings, woman,” she spat, a genuine spite in her voice. “Do not presume to know how I feel.”

“Then do not assume how I do,” Leliana said, turning away and facing the window, but still glaring angrily at Morrigan out of the corner of her eyes.

“Ladies,” said Cullen, wearily, raising his arms - and slumped head, which he was cradling - off of the table, standing to full height. “Please. After Halamshiral, the last thing I need is more political bickering about who slept with who and what it meant and whether or not an entire nation will become unhinged due to their collective sexual miscapades,” Cullen groaned, laying his palms on the map and trying to wrest control of the situation.

“Which leads us to the Empress and Marquise Briala,” Josephine added, helpfully, before Cullen could sink into another bout of depression and Leliana could send assassins after Morrigan in the night for another perceived - however legitimate - slight. “We shall send them a letter, then. A simple thank you for having us at their party, as Gaspard, as you know - who invited us originally - awaits his execution at the gallows in Emprise du Lion.”

At this, everyone, including Morrigan, turned to face Angus, who looked drawn. Sheepish, though, for a man who had inadvertently sentenced someone to death.

“Yes,” said Cullen, slowly. “It is unfortunate, Gaspard’s meddling, but the law for treason in Orlais is firmly solid. I recommend,” he added, looking around the table, rather seriously, “that we drop any associations we’ve had with the man. And perhaps, on another date, we can focus on why the Inquisitor’s desire to reconcile the Empress with her lover superseded his ability to tell me his plan to do so in the first place.”

Angus, still looking sheepish, sighed, with genuine remorse. “I’m sorry, Cullen,” he said, brushing his short auburn hair out of his sight. “I should’ve told you. I simply became so wrapped up in the machinations of the Court -”

“And, undoubtedly, we can all agree Lord Trevelyan played the Game quite well,” said Josephine, closing the matter with a flourish of her quill. “Perhaps it would be wise to leave this particular issue for another day. I shall send the letter, then? Thanking the Empress and the Marquise?”

Everyone looked at each other, and, with a heaving sigh, Cullen pushed off the desk, nodding along. “Yes. Thank you, Ambassador. Perhaps it would be best. We’ll adjourn in the evening?”

With a loafing shuffle, everyone began to file out of the War Room, as Lord Trevelyan trailed along at the end. Perhaps Josephine was right - maybe everyone simply needed a break from the events of the night before. It was nothing a stiff break - or a stiff drink - couldn’t solve.

-

“Two shots of brandy, please,” Lord Trevelyan said, holding up his fingers in the universal “two”, as if that would help Cabot, the bartender, assist his order further.

As two grubby, thumb-smeared shot glasses of aged brandy, sealed and imported from Antiva, appeared in front of Angus’s eyes, a sliver of an elf with a glint of utter mischief on her face sidled down next to him on the empty barstool.

“Lord Fanycpants,” she said, poking him antagonistically with her elbow. “Are you still moping after what happened at Halamshiral?”

Angus - Lord Fancypants - looked at Sera, who had somehow already procured herself an entire flagon of Fereldan whiskey - eyes going wide with the universal sign of “I’m up to something, and I’m not giving up what”.

“I’m not moping,” Angus said, with composure. He shot the first shot of brandy, and winced, as if the silver spoon in his mouth was coming into rancid contact with some sort of melting mercury.

Sera made a face. “I don’t know what you’re on about, all sad, and mopey,” she said, drinking a third of her flagon in one go. “It went good, din’it? You got those two back together, the world is saved, you got to dance with your little sweetheart, everything’s good, innit?”

Angus looked wearily at Sera. “Do you know why I’m drinking this blasted stuff, Sera?” he asked, despairingly.

Sera shrugged. “You hate yourself?”

“Yes,” Angus said, with a small, dramatic sigh - almost a wail. “But not for the reasons you think.”

Sera looked at the glasses. She made another face - a sly one, the “I’ve caught your hand in the cookie jar” one.

“You’re drinking the stuff that reminds you of him,” she said, jabbing Lord Trevelyan with her finger once more. “You big old softie, you.”

Angus sniffed. “I’m not a softie,” he said, reaching for the second glass of brandy, but chickening out at the last minute, as the aftertaste of the first stuff hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“Softie,” said Sera, but she was starting to soften her own edges herself. She looked at Angus, a little sympathetically, a lot firmly.

“I didn’t really get to dance with him, not really,” said Angus, the small wail still in his voice. “I was so enraptured in playing the Game and ensuring the Empress’s safety that I never got the chance to - well, formally invite him to dance. Imagine. I take the hand of someone on the ballroom floor at Halamshiral and it’s not his. It’s - oh, Andraste’s tits, the one formal dance I had was with Duchess Florianne!”

Sera snorted, and a little bit of the whiskey came out her nose. “At least she’s pretty to look at,” she conceded. “And you two cut a bit of a rug out there. The nobles couldn’t get enough of it, apparently,” she said, snorting again.

Angus looked dismal. “I don’t care. I had these plans, Sera. I was going to make a big deal out of it. I was going to formally invite him to take the floor with me, and take him by the hand, and lead him in the most elegant rendition of the two-step those arsehole nobles had ever seen.”

Sera nodded solemnly. “Dorian would have liked that,” she said. “He loves when you make a big deal out of him.”

“I know,” Angus wailed, fully, this time, causing some of the tavern’s patrons to turn and look at him. “I didn’t get the chance. I successfully stopped an assassination attempt and reconciled the most star-crossed lovers the Court had ever seen, but I never got to give him that enchanted evening.”

Sera puckered her face, like she was sucking on a lemon. “That’s important to you noble lot, is it? Can’t you just sweep him away some other how? Offer to duel his old man to the death or something?”

Angus sighed. “It’s important,” he said, resting his arms on the old, mead-soaked bartop, “because I never really thought I’d get to take who I really wanted to the ball. To any ball. At all.”

And at that, he looked directly at Sera, rather sadly, and she knew immediately what he meant.

She patted Angus lightly on the arm, looking a little heartbroken, herself.

“Ah, to the Fade with ‘em, all of ‘em,” she said, rousingly. “You don’t need any ball to make you two feel special.”

“But it would have been important. Don’t you ever want to march back into your home town and do the things you always wanted to do, but with the man - er, woman - you love? Bit of a “fuck you” as well as a bit of a happy ending, isn’t it?”

Sera’s eyes glazed over a little, as she undoubtedly wondered how she could’ve disrupted the ball with a sweetheart of her own. Probably someone with whom she could partner unspeakable pranks.

“Ah, when you put it that way. I hope you get to have your fuck-you dance soon, then.” Sera grinned, and elbowed Angus affectionately.

“Thank you, Sera,” Angus said primly, reaching for the final shot glass and downing it in a solid swoop. He choked a little bit, thumped his chest, coughed, and spluttered a few drops back onto the counter.

“Never change, Inquisitor,” grinned Sera, sliding off the bar stool in search of her next flagon. “And good luck impressing the sparkly one.”

She paused, for just a second, then turned back to Angus.

“‘The one you love’, eh?” she said, grinning again, ear to ear.

Angus, already a redhead, and already flushed with his poor choices of brandy, turned somehow even more red.

He coughed, and spluttered a little again. Sera waggled her fingers and turned on her heel, wandering off into the tavern.

Angus looked back towards the bar. Two more brandies, perhaps, should do it. That should wipe his memory suitably for the rest of the evening.

-

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Headcanon Master Post

About

[Last Edited: 2/07/23]

These are the headcanons that I have about the Dragon Age universe, typically used for one or more of my fics. These headcanons don’t necessarily apply to every fic I make, nor will they always 100% comply with canon. They are just fun ideas that I ascribe to my stories or find enjoyable.

This is quite long so the good stuff is below the cut. Have a question about any of them? Feel free to drop me an ask!

There might be additions to this in the future...we'll see.

Archdemons and Blight Nightmares

Used in Broken Bird

Nightmares about the darkspawn are common amongst Grey Wardens. During a Blight, however, the Archdemon can make a presence through these dreams.

Blight nightmares in this headcanon are more akin to actual nightmares rather than just seeing a “vision” of the darkspawn/Archdemon in the Deep Roads. The nightmares are specific to each Warden, playing on fears, regrets, loss, etc. During Blights, the Ardemon gets personally involved in such nightmares. Some Archdemons speak to their host, engage in combat with them, or simply observe as a gargantuan figure over the nightmare. In these dreams, Archdemons have characteristics that align with what they are the Old God of.

Regarding Urthemiel, the Old God of Beauty:

The basis for this headcanon: In the Dragon Age universe, Archdemons take on the form of high dragons. Canonically, high dragons are fully mature female dragons. On the other hand, drakes, male dragons, do not have wings and thus cannot fly.

Archdemons are almost always referred to by male pronouns. The one exception, confirmed to be an error, was in the Dragon Age TTRPG in which Urthemiel is referred to as 'she.'

For these reasons, I imagine Urthemiel as a hermaphroditic being, who changes to suit whatever its idea of 'beauty' may be at a given time. Urthemiel mimics faces and can change its horns to resemble different compositions and shapes, such as "twisted together swords," gnarled branches, and more. When not shifted, Urthemiel's horns resemble Halla horns.

Grey Wardens Run Hot

In addition to increased strength, stamina, and generally being healthy thanks to their tainted blood, Grey Wardens also tend to be unnaturally warm.

Alistair's Rose

The rose that Alistair gifts the Warden is the same rose Leliana mentions growing on a dead rosebush in Lothering. See this post.

Morrigan Doesn't Like Horses

Morrigan refuses to (read: can't) shapeshift into animals commonly used as beasts of burden. She will not allow herself to stoop to such low standards.

Horses are included among these animals. However, Morrigan harbors a particular disdain for the creatures. "Mindless, soulless and unknowable beasts that should be left to their fields and mystery."

She may on rare occasions transform into an amalgamation of a horse when a high amount of mischief is required. The horse bears her usual hallmarks of beast transformation: a black, iridescent coat and golden eyes. Her version of a horse however, tends toward the absurd or horrifying. Think of a cross between a Púca's horse form and Sleipnir.

Warden's Oath Pendant

All Grey Wardens receive a pendant filled with the blood mixture used in their Joining. The blood in this pendant acts as an indicator for their Calling; when the blood turns black and viscous, the Calling is imminent.

A Caged Bird

Divine Justinia V threatened to blackmail or otherwise manipulated Leliana into agreeing to be her Left Hand. Leliana knew of Justinia's involvement with confidential Orlesian documents that fell into Ferelden hands and retrieved those documents for her.

While Leliana doesn't strike me as the person to rat Dorothea/Justinia out for this, her knowledge of this is still a threat to Justinia. Leliana also "owes" her for helping her escape her prisoners.

This may explain why Leliana is so steadfast in defending Justinia at every turn, and why she does not tell the entire truth to the Warden when told about her past.

The Nightingale Knew

At the height of the Kirkwall Mage Rebellion, Leliana knew what was coming. When Justinia issues the writ to reform the Inquisition, and the Hero of Ferelden is pitched as Inquisitor, Leliana informs the Hero and tells them to stay away. She then keeps their whereabouts secret, knowing the conflict could cost their life.

[dragon--sage]

“Perhaps he had no choice? He might return at any moment.” 

“Maybe.”

This one hurts. Especially if you hardened Leliana (again), though I usually don’t. But either way, the Spymaster has been through some shit in her life, and takes a no nonsense approach to her position. Doesn’t beat around the bush, and isn’t inclined to lie to spare feelings (I imagine, at least). 

But here... this is obviously such a fantastical idea, that Solas will return to the Inquisition. That his absence is a temporary misunderstanding, even after Leliana’s agents searched high and low and could find absolutely no trace of him. Even Lavellan can’t believe that Solas will be back, and this resigned little ‘maybe’ just breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. 

I imagine that Leliana probably hated to see that CRUSHED and GUTTED look in the first screenshot (which ALSO breaks my heart into a thousand tiny pieces). It makes me head cannon that the Nightingale was hardcore team Solavellan.

And it adds a layer to the frustration Leliana would feel over Solas having pulled the wool over their eyes for so long -- we were rooting for you Solas! We were all rooting for you and Lavellan!!!

[sxrensxngwrites]

headcanon requests!

i’m feeling like trying my hand at some headcanon requests! send in some general ideas/prompts and i’ll probably do a bunch for different characters :) definitely for dragon age, but also check out my request posts for other fandoms i vibe with.

[catdotnip]

That's pretty gay

[theheraldsrest]

So my inquisitor, who previously lost his son and husband to the blight, adopts a baby after Haven, how would the inner circle, particularly Dorian who he romances, react to this?

“Companions react to the M!Inquisitor adopting a child”

Thank you, anon, for the ask! Ah, angst. We need some after all this nice, happy stuff. Let’s make it hurt! I’m pulling out all the stops! 

-Lord Lex

It was already tough enough that you had already faced death even before the Inquisition, now it was all around you. Though you were able to get most people out of Haven before collapsing the mountain on it, many didn’t make it…and some only had a short time left due to injuries. One in particular you found was a mother cradling her baby while a wound in her side bled her out. You overheard one of the healers say that they did everything they could to help her, but the arrow had gone too deep. It was only a matter of time. The mother weakly begged anyone to help, not her but the baby. Some of the chantry sisters were discussing sending it to an orphanage but it would be difficult to get them there with the present circumstances. The mother locked eyes with you as you knelt near her and she quietly pleaded with you. “Herald…please…help him…” Your eyes fell to the small bundle that barely moved, sleeping on. In the back of your head you knew this would only add on to your worries and something else to lose but in the present you couldn’t care less. You put your hand over hers, trying to convey that you understood, promising her that the child will be safe, you’ll make sure of it. Not a word was said but your answer was clear. She managed a weak smile before looking down and kissing her babe one last time, saying “Mio, mommy loves you…mommy…loves…” before she leaned back and…she was gone. You could hear the sisters murmuring their prayers for her as you bowed your head before taking the bundle into your arms. A small baby boy fast asleep, unaware that his mother had passed on trying to protect him. You pulled your coat tighter, vowing that this child would not meet the same fate as his mother did, as your husband and son did. You would make sure of it.

Cullen

He was split on his feelings. On one hand, he knew this was an honorable thing you were doing, taking this child under your wing. On the other, this wasn’t the best time for children, especially when it could add another target to your back. It was tricky because he knew there was no other choice for the baby to stay in Skyhold with the roads being too dangerous to try and get it anywhere else, and that also wasn’t including if you’d be willing to give the child up. But no matter what your decision is, he won’t voice these thoughts and respect your choice. He will keep an eye out, though, for your sake.

Josephine

She was a little worried. She only knew bits and pieces of your past and knew you were once a father. Once. It hurt her in particular knowing that that life was taken from you and now you were given the opportunity to try again. Josephine couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child, the closest ever coming to it was the first time her sister disappeared and she couldn’t find, crying and worrying herself sick until she came home. She knew there was no way of swaying your mind with this decision and she’d respect that. She’ll try to help in any way possible if you need it. 

Leliana

Sister Nightingale was very much against this idea. Firstly, yes, she knew what had happened in your past, she had come across it when she was looking into your history to see what kind of person you are. She respected you for how you held yourself. But this sentimentality would get you nowhere. It would just give your enemies another thing to hold against you. Secondly, Skyhold was not a place for children to be raised at, especially a child of the Inquisitor. You would have to dedicate time to them, time that could be spent out stopping Corypheus. But, as she already knew, you had your mind set. Maybe Andraste planned for this, to give you hope.

Vivienne

Very much against the idea and will advise you in a calm but careful manner about it. More than naught, if you shut her down, she’ll drop it and leave it be. Don’t get her wrong, she finds no insult to you stopping her. She understands that most people are sympathetic to those children that are orphaned by war and this may help your image but really dear, trying to raise a child while trying to lead an army? Not the best of worlds to combine. Of course, it may just be her not liking kids but she knows others wish for that life. So be it. If you need anything in particular, she’ll see if she can acquire it.

Varric

Ah. This kind of thing makes Varric sympathetic. He’s probably one of the few that you actually told your past to and god knows he’ll take it to the grave before telling anyone else. But did he ever expect you to take up another child? Kind of. Grief is strange for him, has to be. He’s seen so much of it, has to write about it. There’s different ways for people to heal or deal with their problems and he knows you keep stacking problems on yourself. So, if this you’re healing, he’s there for you, ready to help if you need it. Just don’t ask him to babysit or he’ll be teaching the kid how to pick locks and filling their head with fantasies. Unless that’s what you want.

Cole

He knows, he understands. It’s…hard for him to explain but also easy? He knows what happened with your husband and your son, he knows you’re grieving for them even now. There’s been an empty space within that’s never been filled since they were taken from you. You hurt, you ached, you pleaded and denied. But with this child, there’s hope. That hole closes ever so slightly. Your heart beats for them, your hands are careful but firm when you hold them, to protect them, to try and shield them from harm. This hurts you but it helps you. The baby reminds you of the time with your own and says that you can try again. He’ll help, if you like.

Solas

Will remain out of it. He agrees that this is not the best time for a child to be raised in, especially with war as it’s start. Already the child has lost much to it and, similarly, so have you. But it isn’t long before he changes his view. This child suddenly means so much to you in such a short span, it’s strange. And yet, he understands. His own people he watched take over the burden of raising newborns who lost their parents and, if you are an elf, it gives him such a nostalgic memory seeing you. He only hopes the best for you and your new child. 

Cassandra

She will mainly advise against this, but her arguments will fall short when she sees there is no way of swaying you. Cassandra simply resolves herself to just looking over you and now this child. She made it her priority to keep you safe thus far, she’ll simply just have to add this newborn as well. Honestly comes to adore the young one and even tries to help with the care of them. It warms her heart whenever she sees you interacting with the child, such love and care for them. She knows they’re in good hands. 

The Iron Bull

As Bull said, most of those who grew up with the Qun didn’t have parents but instead grew up with other children and multiple elders looking over them. So he didn’t really have anything to say on the matter. Though, he did think it might make things difficult for you, having to go into battle so often. He would suggest taking them into the field with you like he was when he was little, but it might be just a tad different from how you guys raise kids. Bull doesn’t really understand either why you won’t just let the child be raised by someone else but, hey, that’s your business. Just try to teach the kid how to protect themselves when they’re able to, at least.

Dorian

Depending on events, it’s still pretty early in your relationship. He thinks it’s honorable what you’re doing for the child, taking them in as your own and raising it. He doesn’t have anything against children, it’s just that he never thought he would have any of his own and, if he did, he was scared that he would turn out like his father with them. With sharing his own past to you, you probably do the same and Dorian finally understands the protective nature you have with the young one and even himself. It breaks his heart that those events occured for you to get to this point. Most would’ve turned away at this point but not Dorian, not for you. It doesn’t even have to be said if you mean for your relationship to last longer because he wants to be there, you as his partner and to help with this child. Damn what the Imperium thinks. Though, you can tell behind all the gusto that he’s afraid of messing up. Just reassure him and help him, and he’ll try to help out as much as possible.

Sera

She doesn’t mind, actually. You do you and all that. At least you’re probably a better parent than most, yeah? As long as you’re not a total ass to the kid, she doesn’t care. Have fun with the snotty noses and horrible smell. Won’t admit it, but kinda jealous seeing you all lovey dovey on them and, again won’t admit it, she thinks it’s really sweet. But don’t expect her to help with taking care of the thing. Sera’ll just teach them swear words and hand gestures and how to not get caught stealing things. Yeeaaahh…just keep the kid away from her.

Blackwall

Can’t say much, it’s your decision. Doesn’t think others should judge it, they don’t know your past, they don’t know what you might’ve gone through to lead up to wanting to care for this child as your own and he respects that. Knowing his own past, is a little scared of how you would react to what he’d done. He’ll try to help pick up on some duties so that it can ease off of your problems and to do list. 

Yes, I know Dorian’s is a bit longer. Just wanted to give our friend anon the proper response with their romance option. If you’d like me to do a second part with the rest as your romantic partners, don’t hesitate to ask!

[ghoulsbeard]

For the DADWC: candles for Leliana?

thank you!! :-)

@dadrunkwriting

On a rare rainless afternoon Leliana rouses herself from endless reports and walks the low, dingy old chantry hall, relighting candles. It’s a poorly kept secret that most chantries— even Haven alone in the hills— buy their candles from the Circle, enchanted to last. But the doors to the church stand open after Harritt agreed to fix the hinges, and the wind is strong.

Lay sisters and brothers pack the hall cheek to jowl with couriers and spies, carrying boxes of supplies or bad news; the nervous sea of them parts wherever Leliana walks.

“I’m given to understand, Sister Nightingale, you have spent some time in a Fereldan chantry before,” says Vivienne, from behind her books.

Leliana tucks her long enchanted taper in her belt and passes between clouds of whispering attachés to stand at the archmage’s elbow. “It was even smaller, if you can imagine. A little chapel lost to the darkspawn.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. So much was lost in the Blight.” Vivienne casts her eyes to the row of old pillars marching along the church’s smoky ceiling. “I have been told,” she continues, softly, “these reliefs were laid by Orzammar hands.”

“The locals say their church is old as the Aegis.”

“I was informed that the wolves were copied from Alamarri tapestry, far before the Storm Age. Perhaps he carried them down the pass.”

The herald told Leliana some of the same, in one of her quiet asides. “I have been looking for Andraste, but I don’t think they chiseled her in.”

Vivienne smiles and a row of tall, rosy candles kindle themselves. Light spills above their heads, limning the stony planes and edges on a wall of figures dressed in strange suits of jagged armor— the long-haired Alamarri in front carries strings of fire in their left hand.

“Ah,” Leliana hears herself say.

At Vivienne’s beckoning, one of the candle flames leaves its wick and hovers ghostlike at the fire-handed stranger’s heart. “The breast-plate ornamentation is unique to stonemasons of a lost thaig. I have been told it was reserved for great paragons.”

“I suppose I would not recognize our Lady even if she stood in front of me.”

“One so rarely does.”

[bumblewarden]

Spoke with Leliana to confirm that i imported the correct worldstate (non-romanced male HoF, so i think so!) and she mentioned that she and the Warden have been keeping in contact through letters and that she sometimes still asks for advice which is so !!!

I had already headcanoned that they frequently contact each other for spy shit (Novhen still uses his Dark Wolf moniker on occasion just as Leliana uses Nightingale), but it's adorable to also imagine them still keeping up about mundane matters

Leliana includes a transcription of a song she's heard and loved in her just-catching-up letter, and he sends a savory pie recipe he's just tried along with a glowing review among the sketches of an area of interest

They've both been through so much, they deserve to reap the benefits of a lasting friendship

[thebookworm0001]

hello i have a pretty random banter prompt - solas and leliana (and perhaps inquisitor) talking about orlesian bards? ;) (alternatively - josie, leliana, inquisitor)

So I want to add more to these banters but my brain hasn’t been cooperating with these so have the ones that I’m happy with before I make you wait for a year:

Overheard in the Rotunda

Solas: Before you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden, you were a Bard, were you not?

Leliana: It was why Most Holy made me her Left Hand. She needed someone who could do the things she could not, and whom she could trust.

Solas: Of course. It would not do for the divine to be seen with blood on her hands, after all.

Leliana: And you have no blood of your own you wish to be clean of?

Leliana: The Most Holy is a symbol of peace. To see her strained would be to tell all the people of Thedas that their hopes of a better world are impossible. That not even the Maker’s Chosen can escape violence in the end.

Solas: And yet your Andraste waged war. And was made a martyr for her efforts. It would seem to me that those chosen by the Divine are by their very nature doomed to violence.

Leliana: Is a peasant working the field served by that knowledge? When met with an injustice of stolen chickens or ruined crop, is it better that he look to a better or baser nature?

Leliana: The Divine does what she must to keep the peace across all Thedas. If a subtle knife slipped between the ribs of a nagging lay sister is what prevents the common people of Ferelden or Orlais from taking up arms against their neighbors at every imagined slight, then I shall be glad to have served as that implement.

Solas: You had great faith in Justinia’s cause.

Leliana: You disapprove.

Solas: No. It was not a judgment, merely an observation.

Solas: The means of those whom we admire are so rarely as righteous as we wish them to be.

Solas: I have a question, Lady Nightingale. Why do you not engage Bards in the service of the inquisition?

Lelaina: You think I do not? I shall have to complement my agents on their subtly, then.

Solas: I am certain you have employed those with Bardic skills, many of the best even. But their talents are used to intimidate nobility by their possibility.

Solas: Bards are the consummate performers. Skilled in the arts of entertainment and murder and feared perhaps even more than the Crows of Antiva. Their ability to woo, inspire, and dishearten is the stuff of legends.

Solas: Why levee such a force only against the Orlesians?

Leliana: An interesting opinion for an apostate to hold, Messere Solas.

Solas: Even wandering apostates know of a Bard’s reputation. And the opinion of the masses holds more sway than any ruler would dare admit. Would it not benefit the Inquisitor for her to be seen commanding such a force?

Solas: Would Ferelden’s peasantry not be captivated by the romanticism? Nevera’s leaders not made curious by the development? Antiva’s assassins compelled to consider the new power in its borders?

Solas: You say that the Divine is a symbol, is not the Inquisitor also? As precarious as her position is, should we not press every advantage to command those attentions?

Leliana: An interesting proposal.

Leliana: I shall consider it.

Solas: Your agent betrayed you, yet you did not neutralize them? Why allow such a vulnerability to remain.

Leliana: The Inquisitor stayed my hand.

Solas: Ah. The Inquisitor is a merciful woman. But for what must be done, I worry that perhaps she hands out forgiveness too easily.

Leliana: Perhaps. Or she may be exactly what we need.