#like girl don’t even pretend. i remember what you were like at the elven ruins in inquisition.

[eregar]

one thing that i don’t understand is why, all of a sudden, everybody believes solas and, to a degree, acts like they always believed him and it would be crazy to think otherwise. solas tells you in inquisition that he attempted, over centuries, to tell people what he knows about the Evanuris and was widely met with scorn, which is why the inquisitor believing and showing curiosity is such a big deal to him.

[jonogueirawrites]

Fate in our hands, destiny in our hearts.

Notes: ** = Elven language. AO3 I was listening to this.

Chapter summary: Fáelán and Diana finally arrive home, and they are greeted by their kings.

Chapter 3

The King and a King.

The sun was above the horizon when he reached the creature’s body. He analyzed the cuts Dusk had done and noticed they had burn marks.

*Interesting.* – He ran his fingers on them.

Only one thing could have cut it so deep and with such markings, but how exactly she had elven daggers was a mystery to him.

He took his dagger from inside his boot and started cutting the creature’s horns.

With a whistle, his horse came to him, and he fixed the horns on its sides. After mounting, they headed to the closest river so he could wash up before meeting his king.

The journey took the whole day, and he arrived at the palace with the moon high in the sky. He took the horns from the horse and dragged them inside.

The palace was completely illuminated and the blue shadows danced on the frescos on the walls. For years he ignored them, and not even a glance was shot in their direction. He walked the halls with his head down; his face hidden by the long white hair that fell from his shoulders and hanged freely in the hot night air.

His feet halted, and he found himself in front of memories he had forced himself to forget; memories he kept away for more than twenty years.

The paint on the wall demanding to be retouched, and its colors, which once showed the scene that filled his heart with hope, were nothing more than a sad shadow portraying their current situation.

His long nimble fingers touched the faded faces as he tried to remember the smiles he once searched for. His memory brought back only one though, the one that even in pain she gave them to reassure everything was fine, and he inevitably remembered their kiss.

He didn’t want anything from them for his help, all they had to do was ask, and he would have led them, but the way she behaved when her sister teased her was just too adorable, and he wanted to see her like that again.

Fáelán understood why she didn’t trust him and also the reason they had to reach their kingdom as fast as they could. If the Préia Hinnthel found them, there was little he could do to help.

His fingers curled into a fist and then punched the fresco. Why couldn’t everything go back to what they once were?

His forehead touched the cold wall, and her eyes stared back at him.

That human would do anything to keep her family safe, and he knew asking for his help must have been hard for her. Not because she was selfish or cocky but because trusting him was a high risky gamble; he could be part of the Préia Hinnthel and lure them to a trap, and everything she had done until then would have been in vain.

She was strong not for her but for them. When she looked into his eyes, he saw doubt and fear. He found himself enamored with their green grass color and he suddenly wanted to kiss all her doubts away.

That wasn’t the first time he had kissed a human nor the first time he was someone’s first kiss. But the way she let her defensive walls fall; the way she allowed him to see the fragility she hid with all her soul… that was something he had never witnessed before. He was enraptured by her.

Her hot breath on his face and the warmth of her skin under his fingers made him smile with his heart. When she closed her eyes to welcome their kiss, and he felt her delicate lips, he wanted to dive his fingers in her hair and get lost in the moment. He stopped himself from running his hand down her back and pulling her body closer, narrowing the space between them. He had to move away, or he would open her lips with his and claim her mouth with his tongue.

He remembered their kiss and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He chuckled with the thought that a human was capable of evoking such feelings from him… no, not just any human.

“Dusk.” – He whispered touching his lips.

He walked down the hallway, and a smile played on his face.

Fáelán left the horns in the trophies room and was about to leave when his father called him.

*Where were you, Ithel?* – The king questioned walking in his direction. – *Your mother and I were worried.*

*I’m sorry, father. I brought back proof that the creature was finally slain.*

Emyr hugged his son and whispered in his ears.

*All that matters is that you’re back.*

He circled his father with his arms and returned the embrace.

Diana opened her eyes and saw Brenda sleeping in a chair near her. She forced her body up, and the pain made her gasp.

The noise that escaped her mouth woke her friend, and they smiled at each other.

“How long was I out?” – She stretched her limbs.

“For the whole day.” – Brenda cleaned the sleep off her eyes. – “I’ve met with Aurora, and she is fine. She told your father she was with me and that you were with us too. She also said we were still together and that he believes it.”

She felt her muscles relaxing and massaged her shoulders.

“What about Rufus?”

“You know his parents. He told them he was with us and then went straight to bed.”

“I have to go back to the castle.” – She stood up and adjusted her clothes.

“Okay. We go to my house first, and you can clean up and have some of my clothes. Those look horrible.” – She laughed.

Diana entered the castle’s kitchen and stole some cheese and bread. Stuffing a significant portion of them in her mouth, she headed to her bedroom. Normally none of her relatives would be around at that time, but still, she steeled her nerves.

She opened the doors to the throne room and was greeted by her father and grandfather. They discussed something at full lungs, and she could hear them from meters away. Her sister was hidden behind a door on the other side of the room listening to their conversation as well.

“She should be back by now, Saturn!” – Her grandfather’s words were filled with rage. – “She was told to be within the castle’s walls and still left. She has no respect for us.”

“Aurora was outside too! Why aren't you mad with her? What exactly is your problem with Diana, father?”

“Aurora was already outside. Diana should have taken her back. She is just a child and will do whatever her older sister tells her to do!” – The man turned his back to her father and sat on the throne.

“Aurora isn't a child. You need to open your eyes…” – He was interrupted.

“You are the one who needs to open your eyes. Diana isn't who you think she is. She pretends to stay in her room all day, but I bet she flees for hours. I'm sure she was in some man’s bed the whole night.”

“Enough!” – Her father yelled. – “I will not let you talk about her like that. She doesn't deserve to be treated…”

“Why do you hate her so much, grandpa?” – Everyone turned to Aurora who walked in their direction.

“You should be in bed, child.”

“I’m not a child anymore!” – She raised her voice. – “Answer my question.”

“Aurora!” – Her father reprimanded her.

“See, Saturn. This is Diana’s fault. She influenced…”

“What makes you think she was in someone’s bed? I’ve never seen her talking to a boy, and I can’t imagine…” – She waved her hands.

“You don’t know your sister, Aurora. She wasn’t always the girl she pretends to be.”

“Go back to bed, sweetheart.” – Her father held her hand.

“What is he talking about?” – She freed herself.

Mercury noticed Diana. He stood up and started walking in her direction.

“She was often seen in places she wasn’t supposed to. Always picking fights with the nobles. How many times did we have to drag her out of illegal parties? How many times she was found in the company of dubious individuals?” – He stopped by Aurora’s side.

The girl turned to her sister, and Diana saw surprise on her face.

“No… you’re lying.” – She whispered.

“Yes, grandfather. I never said I didn’t do any of that. I’m not ashamed of the person I was nor the person I have become.” – She crossed the room and held Aurora’s hands in hers. – “When mom died… you were just a child, and I didn’t want you to go through a few things I had…” – She looked away, lost in memory for a second. – “I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. That you would grow up and enjoy life as much as I did.” – She tucked some of her sister’s hair behind her ear.

“She is a much better person than you, Diana.” – The venom in his words just angered her. – “Aurora turned out to be the princess we need.”

“That’s not true.” – Aurora took a step in front of her sister, shielding her from the old man.

“Aurora?” – Her father asked confused.

“I have done things you couldn’t possibly imagine. I am far from being the princess you think I am.” – Diana tried to shush her, but she continued. – “Diana always defended me. She always protected me.” ��� She took a step forward. – “If she hadn’t gone to the elven village yesterday and brought me back I would be dead by now.”

“What?” – Her grandfather yelled. His face contorted in anger. – “What did you do to her, Diana?” – He pushed Aurora out of his way and approached her. – “Isn’t it enough that you ruined everything when you were born, but you had to drag your innocent sister along?” – He was panting. – “Bringing your sister to the company of those filthy elves…”

“They are not as bad as you portray them.”

Mercury slapped Diana and the sound his hand made when it reached her face reverberated on the walls. The action caused her hood to fall on her back, and she stared at her grandfather in defiance.

Aurora ran to her side, and Saturn yelled at him, but they never lost eye contact.

“I will never allow you to do with Aurora what you did to me.” – He slapped her again.

“What are you talking about?” – Her father asked.

“Dusk?” – Aurora touched her arm.

“Aurora.” – Her grandfather held her arm. – “Tell me you’re lying. Tell me you weren’t among that scum.”

“Of course, she wasn’t.” – Diana started when Aurora tried to reply. – “As you said she is my younger sister and will do anything that I ask.” – She turned her back to him and mouthed the word ‘please’ to her sister. – “I went to the party and asked her to tell you I was with Brenda.”

“Dusk…”

“Please, Dawn!” – She pleaded with her eyes. – “Don’t make things worse.”

Aurora lowered her head and grasped her clothes. She bit her tongue not to say anything.

“As I have suspected. Once a rat, always a rat.” – Once again her father defended her, but his words fell silent. – “You will be taken to your room and will not leave that place… ever again.”

“That’s enough, father. You can’t do that!” – Saturn shielded the girls with his body.

“I am the king, and I can do whatever I want. When you become the king, you do things your way… if you become king.” – He turned his back to them.

Saturn was shocked and followed Mercury, but Diana stopped him.

“It’s alright, father.”

Saturn hugged her and promised with a whisper in her ear.

“I will make it up to you.” – There were tears forming in his eyes. – “I love you.”

“I love you too, dad.”

Mercury didn’t give her a chance to talk to Aurora and immediately ordered the guards to escort her to her room. She noticed they remained stationed at her doors and upon looking out of her window she saw two more guarding her other way out.

After a few minutes of pacing, servants entered the place and started taking all of the books and any other distraction out of her room.

Mercury observed the work from the door. He refused to enter the place.

They searched every corner and ultimately found her secret compartment, and when they opened it, they found her collection of elven artifacts and books.

On their way out, her grandfather asked to see one of the books. He opened the pages and examined it.

“From your friend, Rhiannon.” – He snapped his tongue in disgust. – “You truly are your mother’s daughter.” – He threw the book in the lit fireplace. – “You will have one meal per day.” – He waited to hear her reply, and as she remained silent, he closed the doors and walked away.

Diana bit her lip until it started bleeding. She thanked the gods her daggers had remained with Brenda.

She laid down on her bed and studied her messy room. Her body fell heavy on the mattress, and she hoped Aurora was fine. She felt a bit lighter because at least her sister was safe at home.

She turned on her left side and placed her hand under the pillow. It touched something small, and she pulled it out. The fireplace’s fire illuminated the little elf toy her mother had given her, and she smiled. Someone had hidden it there, and she mentally thanked them.

She traced the details carved on the toy and stopped her analyses at its jet black eyes. Her grandfather could take it all, but he would never take their kiss away.

She laughed loud when she remembered Fáelán’s words.

“You were right, little wolf. I will forever remember you.” – She touched her lips with her fingertips and placed the toy over her heart.

[thesong-spectre]

Tales of Azden: Enslaved by a Sorcereress

ONE

Ashidavar Ruins, Somewhere in Cyrodil, 15th Day of the Evening Star

Azden Riseri valued what little light the orange flames of his torch made down the seemingly endless dark corridor. Usually a retched stench seeped into these kinds of places from damp corners and the moisture that outside air swept through cracks and holes in the walls. Naturally rats would squeak and scutter against the floors and spiders made homes near the delicious morsels. And at this point of his life Azden had seen so many skeletons that he could draw a perfectly detailed one from memory. But none of these things were present within the cramped spaces of Ashidavar Ruins. And that worried Azden beyond imagining.

As a self-proclaimed artifact hunter, Azden took great value and pride in knowing his stuff. In digging up the past so others can admire history in the present, in discovering the secrets of Tamriel’s greatest magi, or gripping onto the last remnants of the dwarves. But here, it was like the rooms were perfectly preserved all save for the eerie darkness. He could hear his own heartbeat, it bothered him.

The young Redguard turned the gaze of his unique violet eyes, the one’s he had since that magical incident, and directed it toward the faint white light of snow a few meters behind him that hinted at the entrance. He wanted to remember it one last time before he stepped deeper into the shadows. He ran a hand through his short but curly black hair and took a deep breath. 20 years of age, six feet tall, broad-shoulder and strong athletic figure, and yet these simple walls made him think at any moment this place would crush him and his puny mortal form. His special cloth weave jacket and black pants and boots no longer felt so protective, even though both had stopped a good arrow or two in their past.

The further he descended into darkness the weaker his torch got. But he sensed no chill in the air, nor moisture from the snowfall outside. Maybe the shadows tickled and grabbed at his light? Slowly pulling apart the beacon he held so close to himself, only caring to distance it enough to not burn his skin. Ashidivar ruins, ‘The living evils of the Black Mage’ That’s how the commoners described it. The informant’s story hadn’t been far off from that. He hadn’t had much time to read into this Black Mage, but apparently some long time ago, how time was usually written, a Breton adept in a strange necromancy had founded a haven for himself. More of a temple where he and his acolytes and worshippers had lived, terrorizing locals for years. Kidnapping people and bringing them into his haven to do experiments and what not, dark things, evil things. No one knew for sure because no one had ever stepped involuntarily in and made it back out. The place was sure built more like a prison than a temple. Deep underground rooms lined equally along an endless corridor…

For his own sanity, Azden prayed the corridor had an end. For his own safety, he gripped a spear tight in his right hand in case the gods didn’t answer. No creature had come within a mile of the broken stone arches on the hilltop outside, the doorway had not a vine intertwined in iron grates. The life outside must’ve known about the death within, Azden started to think it would’ve been better to heed the warnings. His eyes almost shot open when a new light appeared a not far walk ahead, a soft purple glow. The darkness of the corridor slowly spread thin and finally fell to the torchlight once more. Azden increased the pace of his steps, yearning to be away from the possible horrors of the accursed darkness.

A chamber. One for arcane and occult practices of some sort, filled with dusty destroyed tomes and broken remains of many researcher’s tools. One’s Azden had never seen anything like before. But the stunning item, the thing he came to receive, his reward for braveness or stupidity, he always which one later, sat on the floor in the room. A tablet of some strange metal, shiny like cleaned steel but fine feeling and looking like a silk, whatever it was didn’t come from this plane. Multiple symbols were engraved onto it, letting out the soft glow that reminded him of the color in his eyes, a discomforting thought. Any time he discovered something with strong magic presence he felt hesitant to take it. The tablet must have been the length of a nightstand and the width of a table, yet it weighed nothing and felt natural to hold. He stared at it, maybe a bit too long. It barely fit in his backpack, but it fit.

Azden walked back toward the entrance, not bothering to take anymore items with him. Quick and efficient this time around. Some placed shouldn’t be poked around in. Though maybe it was the relief that he could leave task free, but for a moment the darkness of that same corridor felt inviting. Nice even, and the subjects of his work within it. The king would pay for his treach—

Wait, what was he thinking about!? Azden gulped and shook his head, the darkness held weight once more. He would bring this curse to that Imperial buyer and he would be rid of it soon. Enjoying a cold drink, warm meal, and soft bed at the closest inn before nightfall, yeah.

At least, that was the plan.

Dead Man’s Drink, Cyrodil, 15th day of the Evening Star

The sorcereress’ patience grew thin with every wavering moment that she had to seduce the drunken fool that gave answers with half-sense to them. It would have been much easier to read his mind and then blast him away with a firebolt. But the unwanted attention would ruin all of the delicacies put into her elaborate plans. She sighed to herself and gave a seductive and manipulating look that boasted the beauty of the Dunmer, or any of the elven races in which they were blessed to have. Her hands to her chin in an innocent girl façade with her arms purposefully placed to squeeze the size of her breasts a bit further out of her wine-strewn tunic than usual, she pretended to be wooed by the Imperial that stank of ale breath and cheese. Ugh. Just remember what you’re doing this for, what’s on the line.

“I would love to hear more about how you saved a town from goblins once Kornir, but I must ask you another question,” The sorceress implied. She was young, even in Dunmer lifespan, for humans’ years she would be about 24, which looked more of 18 to many folks who weren’t an elf. And she used the youth of her body and voice to her advantage.

“Please do,” He half slurred the words.

“This Redguard, this, Azden, will he be returning here?”

“Why of course, I am paying him for the job after all. Though to be honest I may cut his pay a bit, it’s taking much longer than I thought.” Kornir took a swig of ale from his tankard.

“So, he should have been back by now?”

“I think so. Tell me uh, Sylvia was it? Why’s a pretty thang like you so interested in dusty ruins anyway?” He asked with a tad of suspicion. No amount of seduction in the world could get between an Imperial and their coin.

She almost cast a spell at him for disrespecting her with such an insulting title as ‘thang.’ Though she forced an innocent smile and replied, “Sylviana Lietgrei. And it’s just family business you could say. And I think males who involve themselves with such dangerous work are attractive.” The last word almost rolled off of her tongue and into Kornir’s heart. She even touched his hand for a moment as a distracting tease. In truth, the sorceress took pride and joy in being able to bend men to her will so easily, a fun part of the already rewarding job of being a sorceress for the Lietgrei bloodline.

“Well you’re more than welcome to stick around and see how the rest of my job goes, Sylviana.”

It didn’t sound right when he said her name, most people could not pronounce the intricacies of elven tongues. It seemed she had more waiting to do. At least she would have it soon. And an even better thought, she could be out of this dump soon.

Yes, the delicacies of her plan were all coming together. By next night she would be back at her home, Myrwatch, within the deeps of Skyrim, being praised and rewarded for her work. Gaining power. Yes. This day would be a good one.

A forest too thick, somewhere in Cyrodil, the 15th of the Evening Star

Searing hot pain, that’s what it was. Azden had experienced many wounds in his dangerous but amazing life as a self-proclaimed artifact hunter, and had the scars on his young muscled body to prove it. But nothing compared to the still bleeding gash across his chest from the ethereal looking blade of, whatever the hell those things chasing him were! And in the cold and snow of all environments.

He had been five minutes out of the ruins with the tablet in his hands because it made an odd humming sound. He heard something, like air warping and suddenly a skeletal faced but heavy armored creature stood above him, some sword of purple flames found its way against his bare skin. It hurt more now than it did those moments ago. His spear found its way through the creature’s chest, slaying it into an ash pile of magic residue. But four more warps later and he ran for his life.

Gods the pain.

What kind of sensation was this? Two potions of healing he downed now, and the pain intensified as he attempted to cure it. But survival had been a skill he held high since childhood, since he was an orphan in the unforgiving place of Hammerfell, he would not give up.

His feet gave him distance fast. Their lack of feet took them to him faster.

“They don’t give up,” He muttered and stopped to breath. He could not outrun them that much was clear. But the pain across his chest was fuel to his fire, he could distract them. Na illusion would be needed, a shaping of reality. Not many illusionists could pull of such amazing and tiring tricks such as shaping of the world itself instead of a single mind. Luckily for Azden, he had the best teacher.

Using what Magicka he could, he bended the nearby thickets and trees to look that of an impenetrable vine wall of sorts. A mile in each direction, which would be impossible in the geography of the woods. But that’s the point.

He stopped to look at what was real, seeing the four horrors become still and angered. One let out a blood-curdling scream, but they truly fell for it. Adonis forgot about all his physical limitations and pushed on into a sprint away from his now stumped pursuers. They wouldn’t be stumped for long, he just needed to get out of the area by then.

After a little while he found himself back at Dead Man’s drink, the inn placed in the middle of nowhere as far as Cyrodil civilization went. Not many people were around except for the common traveler or two. When he stepped inside the building it was more or less the same with the number of customers. Most of everyone slept from drink or had been too intoxicated to acre about his sudden entrance. Most except for the Imperial and…a Dunmer? An exceptionally beautiful one at that, but most elves were when compared to the other races in the room.

Adonis’s healing potions had taken some effect, the bleeding wound now a partially sealed one. Still open enough to catch a nasty cold though. The pain never decreased in intensity, the opposite actually, the more it healed, the more it hurt. Dark and Deep, Adonis thought the swore. He took a seat at the table with his contractor and the gorgeous woman and took a moment to breathe.

“By the gods man, what happened to you!? And what took you so long?” Kornir asked in surprise.

“Your tablet summoned some visitors. I escaped them, and honestly I don’t know if they gave up chase or not.” Azden’s voice was soft-spoken and silvery, even in a stressful time. The Dunmer on his right fell shocked by the pleasantness of his voice, he had a special accent. Like one of someone who spoke many languages and therefore developed a beautifully conflicted tone.

“Visitors? What kind of visitors?”

“Ghastly I would say.” Azden looked to the woman on his right. “I’m Azden Riseri by the way.” He greeted assuming she had business with the Imperial as well.

He intrigued her for some reason she could not explain. She forgot to greet herself, truly.

“Listen, Kornir, this tablet, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t think you should be buying this sort of thing.”

Kornir slammed his tankard on the table. “Hey, I’m already docking your pay for how late you’ve been. Don’t try to smoot talk me into giving you more coin by pretending you’re doing me some favor!” He complained.

“W-what? N-no I don’t care about the coin! Look, the things chasing me are connected to this tablet somehow. It’s dangerous,” Azden attempted to warn the drunken fool.

“Just show mt eh damn thing.”

Azden sighed, but did just that. Placing the behemoth of runes on strange material on the table. Kornir raised a brow at the glowing symbols. Sylviana stared mesmerized at it. Finally, what she came for sat right in front of her. She didn’t want to waste anymore time in this foul place.

“Now, let’s talk about pri—”

A gust of flames threw both Kornir and Azden off balance and watching Sylviana. “Actually, I’ll be taking it for free. And if anyone argues I will burn them to a crisp.”

“Hey, what’s going on over there, don’t make me call the guards!” The innkeeper shouted. A lightning bolt striking a bottle next to his hand shut him up.

“Damnit! I should’ve known not to trust a pretty face!’ Kornir cursed aloud.

“Listen, you don’t know how dangerous that tablet is. If you take it, you’ll get hurt, surely!” Azden pleaded to her.

“I’ll let that insult to my power pass this once because you are cute, but do it again and I’ll have to hurt you.”

Azden blushed at her sudden compliment and threat, it was quite confusing. Kornir was cursing himself to death, but staying quiet enough to not become a charred corpse or pile of ash. Azden saw the woman gaze at him, as if she contemplated something. She made her mind up.

“You, Azden Riseri, put the tablet back in your bag. Slowly, try anything and I’ll kill you,” she demanded. He did as she asked, but could not tell where this all was headed. “Now, I will be taking the tablet, and you with me.”

“What! Why!?” Azden and Kornir asked in perfect unison.

“Because I said I will. I need no more explaining than that. Unless you’d rather die?” She asked him.

“It’ll take more than some spell to slay me,” he grunted almost.

She laughed. “Naïve and cute, this should be fun. Not by my spell Redguard. No, no, no. That mark across your chest. Let me guess. It hurts oh so much, the more you make an attempt to bind it.” Her voice had a victorious tone.

“H-how did you know that?” A stunned expression ran across his face.

Sylviana had smooth dark-purple skin, curves in all the right places, especially her juicy and attractive thighs, hips, and chest, long flowing milky white hair like spider-silk, and sharp yet elegant crimson eyes. Azden hated how much her form messed with his heart as she stepped closer to him. Her index finger traced his wound, bringing a wince from him that caused her to smile.

“Because I know a lot of things Azden Riseri. Things you could only dream of learning as you delve in dirty and blood-filled dungeons all day long. I, Sylviana Lietgrei, daughter of Morigsi Lietgrei, am a powerful and intelligent being. And you will learn to fear me in the upcoming days,” She softly whispered into his ear. The tickling sensation of her breath being what Azden dared felt pleasant had she not been threatening his life. To think that those soft and plump lips had been so close to his skin…

NO! What am I thinking!?

“So, as I said I will be taking you with me.”

“What makes you think I’ll come with you?”

She laughed again. A harsh thing to do to someone in a time like that. A tease that he had no power or control. That he had no chance. It scared him as much as those dark hallways of Ashidavar had. “Because even if you had a choice, I’m the only person you know, this I’m sure of, that can save your life from your wound and now, your new and powerful foe.”

That last word put him on edge. What foe did he make grabbing that tome? What exactly did he pull himself into? Azden could not argue with those words, so he spoke no more.

Before more could be said the door kicked open. Someone screamed and fell as a corpse into the room. An ethereal blade in their chest. No way. They found where he was. Two of the, things, floated into the room, more of flew with incredible speed. Azden reached for his spear, but Sylviana had put fire near his face, a warning to what would happen if her grabbed it. Two lightning bolts, more like one that jumped, quickly dispatched of the two creatures.

“Come with me or piss me off and make me drag you. Trust me, it’s healthier for you to obey me.” Sylviana waited for his response.

Azden glanced at Kornir and the corpse on the floor. With a sigh he left his spear on the ground and followed the Dunmer. She led them out to her beautiful black horse and got on its saddle, then waited for Azden. The same woman who threatened his life had been the same one who said she could save it. What was really going on? He got on with her and they rode out. For a moment he thought himself an idiot for nor fighting her. But then turned to see twenty of the creatures descending upon the small inn. Everyone would be slaughtered. And this Sylviana probably could care less.

Sylviana had rode all night to keep distance from the Scourge beasts. Simple yet effective creations. Killed as easy as a bandit, but able to clear out a town of commoners. This Dark Mage must have been quite the person to employ the common use of such mocked creatures. The seductive, powerful, strong, and capable sorceress chuckled in victory. She had the tome and the cutest guy she had ever seen too all to herself. And the most interesting guy as well. Violet eyes in a human, that was new. She loved that detail about him. Azden had been quiet the entire night, part of the creature’s blade magic was energy sapping, he could probably barely stay awake. The fact that he did stay awake all night showed how little he trusted her. He didn’t have too, he just had to obey.

She stopped the horse on the road for a while just to stretch her legs, but also to do more mischievous things. Azden sat facing the treeline, just staying awake and alive. Thinking about the odd events that happened to him in such little time. The life of a self-proclaimed artifact hunter proved daily to be a challenging and interesting one, but he loved it. Like anything in life, it came with pros and cons. He wasn’t sure what to label this part of the job. Vexing?

“Azden, get off the horse and face me,” Sylviana stated in that demanding tone.

Too tired to argue or feel anyway about it, he did just that. The cut on his chest still searing with pain. Sylviana held long strands of silk in her hands with a grin that spoke danger to Azden.

“I’m going to bind your hands and feet, then gag you. You are going to let me.”

“What! NO! WHY?!” He argued, now more awake than he had been.

“Because I said so. And if that is not enough for you, though it should be, the only way I’ll save your life is if you agree to this. It is the only way I can trust you won’t attack me or run.”

“I shall not be bound and made defenseless.”

“Then I will force you to be.” A grin crept across her face. A firebolt formed in her hands. Azden warded it away.

“So, the boy knows a spell or two. How cute.” But for a moment he disappeared. Invisibility spell? Really, what does he take me for, some fool? She walked around the close trees for a minute. A smile on her face. “I can hear your breathing. That wound must be getting unbearable. I could help you with that. If you obey me.”

“I’m not your slave,” He responded, appearing behind her.

“You will be, after you owe me your life,” she giggled.

So that was her plan. That’s why she brought him along, to make him as slave. Azden walked behind a tree. She followed to see nothing. And come to think of it the forest itself looked odd, wasn’t that tree on the other side…

Suddenly, a hand came for her head in an attempt to knock her unconscious, only being saved by exceptional hearing that allowed her to hear the swishing of the air. Azden’s hand missed and hit her shoulder instead, it didn’t feel good. She didn’t look happy.

“Clever illusionist!” She summoned an arm and hand of some odd energy and grabbed Azden by the throat with it, lifting him off the ground.

His lack of air made the chest pain even worse somehow. That iron grip around his throat. Azden kicked and thrashed but could not break free from this spell.

“You are going to regret that. I am going to give you one last chance. You push tour luck Azden Riseri. Defy me again and experience pain much beyond that of your chest wound, a slow agonizing death. I could play with you, take the air from your lungs, then give it back. Over and over til I tire of the game. You don’t know true power yet or fear. I could treat you well and be kind, but you must learn to be like the lowly creature you are and obey me!” She almost shouted in anger now. She hadn’t meant to get like this. She was losing control.

Azden could not reply. Only feel his lungs begin to burn with the lack of oxygen. Only be at the mercy of this cruel and wicked person. She dropped him, he gasped for precious air as he slowly massaged his own throat to make sure it hadn’t been crushed.

Sylviana put a hand on her hip and waited for something. Life or death.

Azden glared for a few moments. But too weak to fight, he put out his wrists so she could easily access them. “Kierna moertu makta thir nena,” He spoke in a different tongue.

Sylviana tilted her head. “You speak the language of my people?”

He hadn’t notice. An old habit from being with his best friend. “Yes.” This tone of his voice sounded cold, calculating, dangerous and sharp. Sylviana was taken aback by it. Maybe it was needed to bind him.

“Well you are right. You don’t have a choice.”

Myrwatch, Swamps of Hjaalmarch, 16th of the Evening Star

Azden did not talk or fight the entire trip. Even as they crossed into the freezing lands of Skyrim and its holds, as they went through woods, mountains, and swamps, he could not fight. He felt weak. He tried to stay awake, but just like his wound, the more he fought exhaustion, the more it overcame him. The more he tried to fight her, the more powerful she seemed to be. The more he ignored the tome, the more it loomed in his dreams and thoughts. Was he truly doomed to a destiny of loss and submission? Or was this just another rough patch in the road. ‘The obstacle is the path’ Virezi used to say. ‘What you throw into a fire is fuel for the fire’

Well some paths aren’t meant to be taken, and water sure as hell ain’t fuel for a fire.

The thought didn’t help as snow fell from all directions. Is Skyrim always some frozen hellscape of bandits, war, and Dragons!? He hadn’t seen one yet, but hopefully such creatures don’t actually exist. Or at least come close. But with his recent luck, becoming dragon food would probably be a better fate.

Myrwatch she kept saying. Talking to the man who could not talk back, Myrwatch this and that. Her lovely home, her lovely mother. Her show-off sister. Seemed Sylviana didn’t care for her sibling. Maybe that would help later on? Nah, probably not. The horse stopped again. The small vibration pushed pain onto his chest. He grunted.

“You must be tired, and hungry, and thirsty. You poor thing,” the Dunmer teased. Azden just let the words pass through his head, no point in giving her more satisfaction of his struggling reaction. He was beyond tired; he hadn’t eaten in a day or drank anything. And with the gag around his mouth he could not capture a couple snowflakes for refreshment. All the while she had made sure to give herself proper nourishment the days ride. She pulled him off the horse, he did not struggle. Azden had not been completely broken or even bent. But as a survivalist he knew to save energy where he could. No point of being prideful if you can’t live to feel pride.

She pulled her waterskin from the saddle of the horse and a small pack that had fresh juicy berries and fruits, Grapes and plums. She ate one and drank a bit of water, making sure Azden saw every bit of it as she licked juice from her plump lips.

“Tell you what Azden Riseri, you have not given me trouble for a day now. I think you deserve at least this much.”

A glimmer of hope filled his still vibrant violet eyes. She teased to reach for his gag, then stopped.

“But you still never paid for that little stunt you pulled earlier. You are a big strong man; you could have seriously hurt my arm you know?” She chuckled. His eyes never left the waterskin or fruits. “If I take this gag off, you must beg me exactly as I tell you to for this. Ok?”

He barely nodded, but the embarrassment did fill his thoughts.

She removed the gag and saw the emotionless yet tired expression of his face. What she imagined most philosophers looked like all the time. “Now, repeat after me. Oh, great Sylviana, my soon to be savior and master, please allow me a taste of your food.”

He cringed at the sentence, but his belly would hurt more than his pride if he hadn’t gotten any food in this frozen place. “Oh, great Sylviana, my soon to be savior and…master, please allow me a, uhm!” He was interrupted when she shoved a grape in his mouth. A sudden lewd look on her face, she was enjoying this, a lot. She gave him a few grapes, then an entire plum. He hungered for more, but would not put himself in more trouble to complain about it.

“Now, for the water.”

“Really? Must I do it for both?”

She began to recoil the water away. He sighed.

“Repeat. Oh, mistress Sylviana,” she began with a smirk, “please fill my stomach with the life liquid in your possession.”

Maybe he could quickly swallow some snow off the ground? Better than giving her that kind of sentence. He couldn’t do it. Say such a thing. How could she make him?

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“I-I”

“I-I-I” She mocked his stutter. “I don’t remember it starting with I.”

He swallowed any emotion he felt. Turning into that calm and collected him he usually was, except those times he hadn’t been in anything like this. “Oh…mistress Sylviana.”

She put a finger to his mouth. “Again.”

“Oh… mistress Sylviana”

“Louder.”

“OH—”

“Just the M-word.”

“Mistress.”

“Louder!” She exclaimed with glee as if this was a new discovery. She loved to hear him call her that. A bit too much, or maybe not enough.

“Mistress Sylviana!” He shouted what he could manage.

“One last time!” She clapped

“MISTRESS SYLVIANA!” That time had been of many things. Frustration, anger, sadness, but also a bit of relief. Ultimately, catharsis.

“Yes, yes! I love it so!” She knelt in front of him and let him drink of the waterskin. She let him have the entirety of what remained for being such a submissive boy. His face blushed, hers did more. Azden felt the coolness of the life liquid enter his being. He would never take it for granted again. He felt odd, yet…a little bit turned on at once. He hoped this would be the only and last time he felt such a confusing emotion.

When he drank it all she smiled at him. He had to face away; he could he look at her after such an embarrassing moment!? Sylviana lightly took his chin and made him face her. She gazed inro those violet eyes that she wanted to belong to her forever. Then her lips pressed against his. Azden felt shock, pleasure, and comfort. He felt comfort from his captor. Huh. They were so soft and inviting, the nicest thing he felt in a while. He hated to admit it, but his flesh yearned to kiss her more, to feel her lips again. She giggled.

Slowly Azden’s eyes began to close. Exhaustion finally won. The last thing he saw as a smiling beauty, and a dangerous devil as he passed out in the snow. All in all, it seemed his future and destiny would revolve around this woman somehow. Maybe, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing?

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Last Oath of Many

Syrahn sat across the room from the Harbinger, nervously tugging at her gloves while the Death Knight wrapped in his illusion rune patiently waited in silence; she was uncomfortable allowing an Undead back into the Amber Glade, especially after the catastrophe from last time. The Priestess opened her mouth to speak, but was caught off guard the moment she noticed all of the women gawking at him from the cracked door and nearby windows. They seemed mesmerized by his flowing silver hair, steely green eyes and square jawline, and they were proving to be quite the distraction for Syrahn; Rethandus noticed them the moment they started to gather, but he wasn't here to get some young girl to swoon over what he once looked like.

 “Is Ijiro on his way?” Rethandus asked, gently clutching his cup of tea, but for obvious reasons he had no desire to drink it. “He seems to be running late.”

 “He is usually still asleep at this hour.” Syrahn explained, shooting a furtive glance out the window beyond the gathered women to see the sun still high in the sky. “He might still be trying to wake up, it seems.”

 “Then you can fill him in once he arrives.” The Harbinger held the cup of tea against his deceptively cold lips, pretending to drink for the sake of his disguise. “As of right now I am in full control of the Oathguard, and my first command of many is to gather everyone still bound to the oath to prepare for war. That includes Ijiro and Eristel.”

“I see…” Syrahn bit her lip at the thought of Ijiro going off to fight again; a part of her was hoping the Oathguard would stay in Dalaran for the duration of the Argus Invasion. “So what happened to Lady Kaevia?”

 “She stepped down for personal reasons.” Rethandus quickly answered, albeit vaguely. “But when she left most of the Oathguard’s contacts and influence left with her. We're starting from scratch, so to speak. That's why I'm here; to ask you for your continued support.”

 “How many men and women are you taking with you to Argus?” Syrahn didn't like the idea of being the sole provider for the Oathguard, but she wasn't about to deprive her fiance.

“I’m estimating seventy troopers. Three formally decommissioned siege engines, and a frostwyrm.”

“That's a little sparse for an invasion.” Syrahn perked a brow while she watched him closely.

 “The bulk of the Oathguard was lost during the Highmountain fiasco.” Syrahn broke eye contact once he began speaking again, vividly remembering that two month long nightmare. “Many of the survivors chose to follow a Sun’rael. I can't guarantee they'll continue to serve under me.”

 “But they swore an oath. Breaking that oath is treason.” The Priestess objected, glancing back up at him; her concentration didn't last, as the women cooing over him began to grate on her nerves.

 “I'm not going to beat around the bush, Lady Bloodfeather; Argus is not going to be pretty. I'm expecting a high death toll during our stay there, against the greatest threat to our way of life. I want everyone charging in with me to be volunteers, and that means giving everyone a chance to step out before it's too late.” Excitement sparked in Syrahn’s stomach at the idea of Ijiro refusing the call of duty without consequence. This was his chance to stay by her side from here on out.

 “You will have the Amber Glade’s backing.” Syrahn reluctantly assured. “But I must stay aware of your operations. The Houses must know what their gold is being spent on.”

 “Thank you.” The Harbinger sounded relieved, leaning back in his chair to cross his arms. “Once we're established on Argus I will provide a weekly report of our budget.”

 “Ayyy if it isn't Rethandus! Looking as lively as ever too!” Ijiro chuckled, entering the room from behind the Priestess with a bottle of Kungaloosh in his hands; Rethandus acknowledged his presence, but the moderate scowl on his face revealed his lack of amusement. “Bringing good news, yeah?”

 “I don't like repeating myself, so I'll leave it to you to fill him in on the situation, Lady Bloodfeather.” Rethandus slowly rose from his seat to adjust his suit; despite looking mildly uncomfortable in it, he wore it well. “I'm returning to the Bloodsworn Ruins. If you could inform Eristel as well, that would be greatly appreciated.” Syrahn wearily glanced up at her lover, immediately wiping the dopey smile off his face. The Harbinger noticed the girls near the door disperse like roaches once he began to approach, but he didn't pay them much attention.

 Walking through the Amber Glade was something he may never get used to, but at least with this illusion rune he didn't have to worry about the guards hounding his every step. The constructs saw right through his disguise, however; they would already be looking in his direction before he saw them, but after a few ominous moments they would continue with whatever they were doing. Hopefully that was Syrahn’s doing.

 “Rethandus, wait up.” Ijiro called out from behind, lightly jogging out into the open. Rethandus stopped and turned to look at him, but the tone in his voice already told him everything he needed to know. “Look, here’s the thing. I’m engaged to Syrahn now, yeah? I have a responsibility here too, and if given the choice, I’d rather stay here.”

 “I’m not going to twist your arm, Ijiro. I need volunteers only, and I don’t plan on dragging anyone to Argus.” The Harbinger calmly responded. “Syrahn already agreed to continue supporting me, so I’ll manage. Keep a good eye on your health, and don’t drink yourself into an early grave. Best of luck, Mercenary.” As Rethandus turned to leave, a young elven woman popped out of the bushes and ran over to him; he took a step back, fearing this woman would slam into him and discover his undeath, but she looked strangely familiar.

 “Lord Rethandus! It’s me, Nairi! Do you remember?” She squeaked, clearly out of breath.

 “What are you doing here, girl?” Ijiro narrowed his eyes at her.

 “Yes, I remember you. You helped Whitstan cleave that pit lord’s skull in half.” Rethandus crossed his arms, seemingly relieved she wasn’t about to break his illusion rune. “Can I help you?”

 “I want to join you on the invasion to Argus.” Nairi quickly responded, causing Ijiro’s body to stiffen. “You could use my skills and you already know I have experience fighting the Legion.”

 “What?! You’re not going anywhere!” The Hunter hissed, taking a step forward to grab her by the elbow. “How do you even know about this?!”

 “Eavesdropping.” Nairi pulled her arm away defiantly. “You need all the help you can get, right? Let me help you!” Rethandus scratched the back of his neck, a habit he must have gained from watching someone else.

 “I do need the help.” He admitted. “But I’m not about to infuriate your father.”

 “With all due respect, I am a legal adult who’s capable of making her own decisions.” The woman clenched her jaw while she spoke, clearly biting her tongue. “I know this isn’t a game, or a joke. My father fought in Northrend so I would never have to pick up a blade and do the same. Now I want to fight so that one day when I have children, they don’t have to fight either. Help me help you.”

 “Hmph.” Rethandus huffed, glancing over at Ijiro; the rugged elf looked paralyzed with anger, but at the very least, he was mercifully speechless. “Alright. Make your peace with your family and join me in the ruins of the Bloodsworn Vanguard. Do you remember that place?”

 “Of course I do.” Nairi huffed again, almost choking on her words this time. “I-I mean, yes sir!”

 “Off with you then. I have a lot to do before we join this invasion.” Rethandus waved his hand at the woman, who almost jumped a foot off the ground with excitement. He took one last glance over at Ijiro before turning to leave, almost breaking his frozen scowl to smirk.

 The sun was beginning to set on the Amber Glade once again. The whispers of the mysterious stranger had finally begun to disperse, and now the guards were exchanging shifts for the long night. Tyrasam waved to her last customer of the day, still in disbelief that she was able to make a name for herself out here in the boonies; still amazed she was even invited here in the first place. Often she would think of what she would be doing if Syrahn hadn’t extended that invitation. But she put those thoughts behind her as the sound of the bell along her door jingled.

 “Evening.” Eristel greeted with a modest wave of his hand. “How was your day today?”

 “Uneventful.” Tyrasam leaned forward and placed both of her elbows along the front counter. “Business seems to be picking up, in no small part to all the doomsayers running around. They actually think we’re in the end of times. It’s the Cataclysm all over again.”

 “I uh… I brought Jaeras a gift.” The Mage withdrew a neatly folded scarf. “It’s all gold, woven over and over until it’s as soft as silk. I’m not sure how they did it, but… this is for all of her hard work being my student.”

 “Awww you shouldn’t have.” Tyrasam clutched the scarf gently, running her thumbs along the soft silk-like gold; she would need to learn this technique eventually.

 “I also… got you something.” The Paladin glanced up to see him holding a delicate flower she hadn’t seen before. “It’s called an Astral Glory. A delicate herb found only on Argus.”

 “What’s with all of these gifts?” Tyrasam asked, perking a brow before gently taking the flower into her own hands. “What’s the occasion?” Eristel bit his lip and fell into silence for several moments, letting the woman enjoy the aroma from the Astral Glory before speaking again.

 “I’m leaving the Amber Glade.” He eventually admitted, causing the smile on her face to vanish. “I don’t think I’ll be able to return for quite some time.”

 “What? Why?” She sounded indignant, suddenly feeling like a small child being baited by presents.

 “Rethandus is leading the Oathguard now, and he’s calling everyone still bound by the oath to serve him.” Tyrasam’s stomach dropped at the mention of that Death Knight’s name, but she did her best to hide her disappointment. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning to join the fight on Argus, and… I just wanted to say… just in case I don’t return… I uh…-”

 “Where will you be staying tonight?” Tyrasam watched the Mage closely.

 “Where…? The Tidebloom Estate…” Eristel sounded confused by the question, reluctant to break eye-contact with the woman; but her stare was becoming intense. “I mean I’ve already packed my things and-”

 “Jaeras will want to see you off tomorrow morning, and it would be a shame if you left without saying goodbye.” Tyrasam’s gaze dropped to the flower and gold scarf, before slowly meeting his again. “You could spend the night with us, if you’d like.” Butterflies began to flutter in his stomach, but he cleared his throat to avoid sounded a bit too excited.

 “Y-yes, I would like that…” Eristel nervously answered, adjusting his collar.

 “Good.” The Paladin left the gifts on the counter while she slid off her seat to rise to her feet. “Lock the front door. I’ll be upstairs, Lord Tidebloom.”

[celestialinent]

randomly writing da:i smut once again. When will this end?

It took both of them losing everything for anything to happen.

Ellie had always liked Sera. It had never been hard to talk to the mischievous young woman- Ellie didn’t have trouble talking to anyone, in fact, Josephine said her charisma was part of the reason anyone still put up with a Dalish apostate leading a Chantry peacekeeping organization. So Ellie had gotten on well enough with Sera. She admired her principles, admired how well-organized the Red Jennies had become since the close of the Breach. She also appreciated how well Sera avoided keeping the gloating about Solas- Fen’Harel- to an acceptable minimum.

Ellie’s anger towards the ancient god, the man she’d loved, had only brought the two elven women closer. Ellie didn’t feel very kind towards thoughts of elven glory any longer, and Sera was good for that. And Dagna was so pleasant to be around, and removed from the situation. It was easiest to spend her time with the pair.

The rest of her companions had taken to giving her pitying looks, dancing around the subject of Fen’Harel, or insisting on helping her with tasks better suited to someone with two arms. She was grateful that so many of her friends remained. Dorian was in Tevinter, Leliana on the sunburst throne, Varric spent most of his time in Kirkwall, and Vivienne had left to reform the Circle, but most remained. And the rest of them visited. But she still hated their pity.

And then he started showing up places. They would set out to hunt elvhen ruins, respond to the panic left after a mass exodus from alienage all across Orlais and Ferelden, or try to reason with suddenly aggressive Dalish clans, and he’d be there. Not physically, of course- because for all that he was willing to tear this world apart for his own, he couldn’t dirty his own hands- but in her dreams.

In the weeks after Corypheus’s defeat, before he’d revealed himself as Fen’Harel, she’d searched for him, chased through the Fade, flashes of lupine shapes pushing her through a dark forest every night- but now their roles were reversed. He sought her out, tried to gather information, tried to dissuade her Inquisition from interfering with his plan to end the world. She didn’t know what he wanted, but she knew he wanted something she wasn’t willing to give.

It was Sera’s words that stopped her running.

“Well it’s his bits, innit?” she asked. They’d all gathered in the Herald’s Rest after a foray into the Emerald Graves that had yielded nothing. Sera was sloshed, leaning heavily on Dagna, and even Iron Bull looked drunk. Cassandra and Cullen had both refrained, but Ellie was on her fourth tankard.

“What are you talking about, Sera?” Bull asked, glancing at the blonde elf from behind his flask. Ellie was just as confused. She couldn’t fathom what Fen’Harel’s genitals had to do with any of this.

“If you were anyone but you, Inky, he’d just try to squash us like bugs. He talks about wanting peace before he achieves Elvhen Glory, but we’re a thorn in his paw. He wants to warn you off ‘cause you smashed bits. He’s soft on you.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at the girl. “He took my arm, he’s killed my scouts, and he hounds my dreams. I haven’t really slept in a month. There’s nothing soft about the Dread Wolf,” she snapped.

“She’s got a point, Boss. Sol- I mean, the Wolf- hasn’t sent soldiers against any of us, just the scouts. And he took your arm to keep the anchor from killing you. The dreams- maybe he has something to tell you.”

“He wants to end the world,” Cullen pointed out, as if any of them needed to hear it. Ellie was still grateful for his pragmatic comment. Who cared if Fen’Harel was ���soft on her”, he was a monster, he was a near sighted fool who thought that her world should end. The feeling she may or may not have had for her was irrelevant.

          “Who bloody cares,” Ellie snapped.  “How does that benefit us?”

“Seduuuuce him, Inky!” Sera exclaimed, as if that was the obvious answer. Ellie blinked at her for a moment, completely blindsided. As if Ellie would ever sink that low. Suddenly her shock was replaced with anger.

“Fuck off, Sera,” she snapped, shoving her stool away from the table, making to leave the tavern immediately.

“Oi, listen to me, Inky!” Sera snapped back, eyes wild for a moment. “It’sa good idea! The ancient arse won’t expect it-“

“Because I’d never do that!” Ellie shouted.

“Ya wanna win, don’tcha?” Sera shot back. “Don’t gotta do the deed or nuthin’, it’s just about making him think you’re givin’ him what he wants, innit?”

Iron Bull’s eyes suddenly lit up. “it’s not a bad idea, boss. I mean, I don’t know if I think you can pull it off- no offense- but it’s something I would do.”

“Is it?” Ellie asked, voice frosty. “And why wouldn’t I be able to pull it off?”

“You’re not underhanded,” Cullen offered, giving her one of his cheesy, romantic smiles. Elli fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. His affection for her wasn’t exactly a secret, but she had no patience for it. Ellie had never truly considered becoming involved with a shem. It wasn’t that she hated the idea, but the cultural differences always seemed too big a gap to bridge.

“I can be underhanded!“ she argued. The whole table looked uncomfortable for a moment, trading glances, and Ellie knew immediately they were deciding whether to contradict her. It set her teeth on edge when they did this. “I can be underhanded. How do you think my clan stayed so well fed? I stole and tricked merchants all the time!”

“I did not just hear that!” Josephine said. “And so, if that ever comes to light, I can deny that without guilt!”

“You’re a straightforward woman, boss. I’m sure you’re an excellent thief, but you’re no Ben-Hassrath,” Bull shrugged.

“You lie about as well as Cassandra,” Varric said, peering over his tankard at her. She stuck her tongue out at him, willing to lower herself to juvenile behavior in her irritation.

“I could do it,” she insisted. “We all know he’s attracted to me, and I don’t care about his feelings. I really could do it.”

“Of course you could, Inquisitor,” Cassandra assured her, but it was simple placating.

“I’m going to!”

“Now, Ellie, I don’t know how smart that is,” Josephine said in a moment of rare casualness. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not, Josie?” Sera asked. “I think it’s right smart.”

“It was your idea,” Cullen reminded her in exasperation.

“So?”

“I’m going to do it. Sera’s right. He has pulled his punches. If we know that, we need to take advantage of it. And he’s been trying to contact me anyway.”

“Maybe Inky could get some proper sleep if he stops botherin’ her. Getting his rock off might just make that happen.”

“Sera!” Josephine exclaimed. “Do not talk about the Dread Wolf “getting his rocks off” ever again!”

“Dread Wolf- he’s such a tosser,” Sera scoffed.

“He didn’t give himself that name,” Ellie told her. “But he did let it stick…”

“Exactly!”

“You should not do this, Inquisitor,” Cassandra butted in, stopping the tangent before it became a series of insults thrown at Fen’Harel by the two elves.

“It’s a good idea,” Bull repeated. “I don’t how it’ll end up though. Probably not smart to go into this blind, boss.”

“I know him.”

“He lied to you for-“

“I know him,” she repeated, voice solemn. ”I might have known his true name, but I knew him then and I know him now. I wish I did not, but I do.”

It was settled that day in the tavern, that she would try to exploit his feelings. The guilt she expected was absent, and it was both a blessing and a curse. But every time she wavered, she remembered that day, after fighting through swarms of qunari, exhaustion clawing at her, hopelessness seizing her, that day before the eluvian. She remembered his ‘explanation’.

“I would not lay with you under false pretenses…”

He’d been a liar, but that lie had hurt the most. Because he had. That night, the night he’d broken her heart in Crestwood, before his confusing proclamation that he didn’t want to distract her, they’d “made love.” He’d been lying to her as he fucked her, kissing her face, pretending to worship her, yelling out her name like it was a fucking prayer... He had meant none of it. He couldn’t have.

She did not feel guilty.

Still, this was not as easy as she had expected. For three nights she went without sleeping, hoping against hope the Dread Wolf would not catch her scent, as it were. The servants were the first to notice, obviously, and her maids began leaving dream pillows hidden in her mattress. She laughed at the discovery, but left them where they were and drank bracing cups of his hated tea.

But sleep had to take her eventually, and on the third night she finally stopped fighting it. After a long day of drills, planning in the war room, and arguing with Cullen about her decision, Ellie retired to her large, cold bed. She’d stoked the bed and put on her most comfortable silk sleeping clothes. They’d been a joke gift from Sera, a risqué red silk shift. It was Orlesian, and if Ellie wasn’t sure Sera had stolen it she would have refused it.

She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, the smell of lavender and other sweet herbs carrying her into the Fade.

Awareness came slowly, something rather unusual. Ellie had always found slipping into the Fade easy, something that had impressed and delighted Fen’Harel when he’d first met her. This time she struggled to gain her footing. When she did, she was unsurprised to find herself in an unfamiliar forest. The vegetation was untamed, untouched by anyone. There was no hint of habitation by anything but the natural flora and fauna.

Moving forward, Ellie watched the way the sunlight streamed through leaves far above her head. She followed the barest hint of a pathway, not unlike the deer paths she’d walked as a child with her clan. This was a forest in midsummer, a welcome sight when in the waking world she was suffering through a particularly harsh winter high in the mountains. Skyhold was many things, but naturally insulated was not one of them. Heating the place was a nightmare. A nightmare she had to deal with quite a bit.

She relished the feeling of warm sun on her face.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her, watching her. She turned, unsurprised to find the path behind her empty. Ellie had expected he’d be playing games with her. Leave it to the blasted wolf to delay an important conversation.

“Come out into the open Fen’Harel, I know you stalk my shadow.”

“Stalk your shadow?” his voice called out, the melodic tones sending an involuntary shudder down her spine. “Is that what I’m doing?” he sounded unjustifiably amused.

“Yes it is. If you would like to speak to me, do so openly. I know that might be hard for you, but I’d prefer it.”

His chuckle echoed through the forest, coming, it seemed, from every direction. She barely restrained a frustrated growl. Whydid he need to play games?

“I won’t put up with you for very long, Wolf,” she spat. “Show yourself and start talking or I’ll take my leave.”

“You’re not being very patient, Vhenan,” he muttered, sounding a bit put out.

She whirled around, having pinpointed the source of his voice. His lupine figure was behind her, his black fur stark against the backdrop of the forest. “Don’t call me that!” she hissed, eyes narrowing.

Any of her plans flew from her head suddenly as she was overcome with anger. She almost let loose an arc of lightning in his direction before she came back to her senses. “What do you want?”

He was silent for a long moment, watching her with his elvhen eyes in a canine face. The sight unsettled her. She noted the way his eyes roved her body, reminded suddenly of her state of undress. She could tell he appreciated Sera’s gift.

“Your dress…” he began.

“You called me to the Fade to talk about my dress?” she asked incredulously. She tried to sound as annoyed as possible, but was secretly thrilled that this was working. She’d distracted him, that was for certain.

“No, inquisitor. Only, I wonder who you wear it for. Not me, certainly?”

“How dare you!” she barked, narrowing her eyes at him. She tried not to overdo it, not wanting to come off melodramatic, but her outrage was a bit overwrought.

He nodded, eyes thoughtful. “But you do wear it for someone?” he pressed.

She was delighted at her success, but she pushed that away, instead focusing on the real anger she felt. He had no right to question her this way. She could fuck whoever she wanted. He had forfeited any right to that information. And that was exactly what she told him.

“Shove off, Dread Wolf. I need not tell you anything. You’ve lost any right to my truth.”

“Apologies, Inquisitor. Only, my spies have noticed the time you spend with your Commander. Cullen values you.”

“Cullen and I are not involved,” she scoffed. She regretted the words as soon as she said them. Mayhaps his jealousy would be helpful.

But she’d already said them, and he relaxed visibly at that.

“Sera and I have become lovers,” she snapped, eyes narrowed. When she saw his reaction she allowed herself a cruel smile.

“Sera?” he asked. His whole body had tensed, his eyes taking on a red tint. The sight made goose pimples rise on her skin. She nodded and he began pacing a bit back and forth before her. It reminded her of the way the hounds paced in their kennel before the kennel master allowed them out for their exercise. Her smile widened.

“We bonded over a mutual hatred for Fen’Harel,” she replied truthfully. He flinched.

“Ma Vhenan,” he began, but she put up a hand.

“No. I am not. If you wish to speak to me, stop hiding behind your mask. I won’t speak to the wolf any longer. Let me see your face.”

Ellie knew that she couldn’t seduce a wolf quite as well as she could a man, but reading a lupine face was also much harder than an elven one.

Fen’Harel nodded, and suddenly the large black wolf was replaced with Solas. He’d changed in the time they’d been apart, in ways that surprised her. He’d grown a dark head of stubble, jarringly different than his usual baldness. It took her aback for a moment before she remembered the murals she’d seen recently of him. He’d had locks in the murals, long ropes of hair reaching his waist. It was obvious he was trying to differentiate himself from homely, plain apostate and return to his status as a god. It was way he wore the blasted pelt and the grand armor.

He was as beautiful as before, his narrow gray eyes peering out from beside her long strong nose. The dimple in his chin sent a sharp stab of pain to her heart. This was Solas, her Solas, and she was both in awe and filled with rage at the sight of him.

The urge to rush him took her over suddenly. She fade-stepped towards him, fists raised to beat his chest before she could even stop herself. The roar she let out felt inhuman. She was reminded immediately of that night in Crestwood, when he’d broken it off, the way she’d hit him, the way he’d taken it. This time he did no such thing.

Fen’Harel seized her arms before she could strike him, grip tight on her wrists. She stared up at him, taken aback by his actions. She shouldn’t be though, right? They were enemies now. Of course he wouldn’t let her strike him. But the look in his eyes wasn’t angry. He looked…hungry.

“Vhenan, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. The term of endearment spurred her on. She struggled in his grip, yanking away, fully expecting him to release her. Instead, the Dread Wolf offered her a wicked smile and pulled her closer.

“Let me go,” she insisted. She should be glad for this development, thrilled that she was moving closer towards success, but instead she was terrified of what was happening. Her struggles became painfully real, but the wolf didn’t let her go.

“I am your friend no longer,” he reminded her.

“You were never my friend, Fen’Harel,” she spat. “You were a traitor from the beginning.”

“We were more than friends,” he insisted. “We were closed than that.”

Leaning down, he let his breath tickle at the tip of her ear, sending a shiver through her straight into her belly. She wondered if it was arousal or fear. Perhaps it was both.

“You lied to me, hurt me, hurt my friends, my scouts. You killed my people.”

“And you killed mine,” he countered, lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

“But before all of this, we were more…” he reminded her. “Remember when I was inside of you? How did it feel.”

She pulled her head back, sending him a poisonous look. “In the light of what you are, it felt like a violation,” she told him, eyes cruel.

He growled, ducking towards her and crashing his lips into hers. She gasped at his action, opening up her mouth to his roving tongue. He delved into her mouth, and she let out an involuntary moan. Their kiss lasted several moments before he pulled away.

“I never forced you, Ellana,” he said, voice hard. “Did I?”

She stared up at him, eyes wide, but didn’t answer. The taste of him was back in her mouth, and for a moment she was lost in the sensation of his hands on her body once again. She could each place their bodies touched, the way his chest was flush against her own, the way his erection- something she was both horrified and thrilled to discover- pressed against her belly. Her skin felt tight, her face too warm.

“Did I force you, Vhenan?” he whispered once more.

She nodded her head before licking her lips, as if inviting another kiss. His eyes followed the movement, becoming hooded as he watched her tongue.

“You wanted me, wanted me inside you, didn’t you?”

She nodded again, face flushing with a minor sense of embarrassment. He chuckled.

“I want to hear you say it,” he commanded. She felt another flush of arousal in her groin. She stared up at him, taking in his freckles, his eyes, the way they turned down at the corners, the way his eyelashes curled. She was silent for a long time. This was the fork in the road, the last chance for her to turn back, to return to her bed and forget about this insane plan.

Then his eyes travelled back to her lips, and she melted. “I want you inside me now,” she admitted. He smirked down at her, hands leaving her wrists to encircle her body before resting on her ass. She pushed against those hands, wriggling into his touch.

It had been much too long since she had been touched like this by anyone but herself. She’d been celibate since Solas had left her and returned to reveal he was the Dread Wolf. It had been actual years since she’d been touched like this. The way his hands felt, hot against her backside was intoxicating.

“I think I can arrange that,” he promised her, lids dropping even lower as he watched her pant for him.

She huffed. “Stop with this, come on, Dread Wolf, fuck me.”

His eyes widened slightly at the words before he nodded. With a quick movement he swept her onto the ground, resting her on a bed of unnaturally soft grass. Her long hair spread out around her and he took a moment to run his fingers through the strands. “I missed this,” he murmured. She rose a single brow at that, but didn’t question it. “Soft as silk, silver as the moon,” he explained. His words sent a spear of heat towards her groin, and she grabbed the back of his head impatiently, yanking his lips towards hers.

His teeth bumped against hers, and their lips mashed together awkwardly for a moment, but after the initial confusion he took control, kissing her with a fervor she remembered all too well from the last time. He kissed her like it was the end of the world, and just like last time, she wasn’t sure if that was unreasonable or not. She kissed him back just as fiercely. She pushed every bit of passion, fear, anger, and betrayal she felt towards him into the kiss, pressing so close to him she was sure they would both bruise from the intensity of it.

The last time, Solas had been passionate, but ultimately gentle. He’d been conscientious, drawing out the foreplay until she’d come for him twice before taking her, but his hands ripped at her dress so forcefully this time that the felt the skin chafe. His hands found her breasts immediately.

He was ravaging her, ravishing her, ruining her. His hands left a trail of pain and pleasure. He stroked her nipples and pinched them, he jabbed fingers into her hips and caressed them in the next breath, and when he reached the apex of her thighs, he was gentle and rough in the same movement. He rubbed her clitoris just like he knew she liked it, circling it lightly, long slender fingers nimble as he began to draw a climax out of her, but when he penetrated her he didn’t start with one. He went in with three whole fingers, thrusting them in and out slowly, spreading her wetness onto them all while his mouth worked welts into her skin.

She gasped at the sudden intrusion, uncomfortable from the stretch for a moment, but them he picked up speed and the pleasure began outpacing the pain. She moaned into the forest air, breath wild as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

“Scream for me, Vhenan,” he groaned against her neck. She moaned at the words, moving her hips into his thrusting fingers. Suddenly his thumb was on her clit, stroking it lazily. She did cry out then, feeling the sharp spark of her climax nearing. He was relentless in his teasing. He didn’t apply enough pressure to make her come, just enough to keep her wanting more. Suddenly, he removed his hand, moving up her body once more to face her. She whined.

“Please, please,” she begged, resting her forehead against his. He grinned at her before reaching down between them. With a single harsh stroke against her clit she came. She screamed into his shoulder, biting him as the climax reached its peak, making him groan with her.

When she was done and her vision had cleared, she saw him above her, eyes dark, mouth curling into a satisfied smile.

“My turn,” he gloated. She only blinked at him. She reached between them without a thought, taking his erection in hand. He let out only a single grunt at the touch. She wasn’t surprised he was trying to control his reactions, but it still angered her. Ellie tightened her grip on his shaft, give it a solid stroke before rubbing the tip with her thumb. He let out a much louder moan at that, and she smiled up at him in victory.

She gave him one more stroke before guiding his erection to her opening, urging him inside her. Without further hesitation he sank to the hilt, sighing in relief as soon he was sheathed completely inside her. She hissed out a breath at the sensation, reminding once more that she hadn’t done this in quite a while. But unlike last time, when he’d been so concerned with her comfort, Fen’Harel paid no attention. He began thrusting into her slowly, but soon picked up his pace, finding a rhythm quickly. She bounced beneath him, squeezing her thighs around him.

She never wanted to lose this feeling, never wanted him to stop being inside of her. He moved above her faster and faster, his thrusts becoming hard and deep. She let out a gasp with each, feeling his cock hit that sweet spot inside of her over and over. She was nearing another climax without even trying, squeezing herself around him just to heighten the sensation.

Suddenly his thrusts became wild, his eyes falling closed and his mouth falling open as he came. She screamed through her second orgasm soon after, and the two of them collapsed, breathing heavily, limbs suddenly heavy. He rolled them over, letting her lay atop his chest, but he didn’t pull out of her, something she took no issue with. The exhaustion came over her like a crashing wave, and her eyes slipped closed before she realized what was happening.

[thephoenixfields]

Session 1: Flesh to Stone

Our campaign begins on the continent of Valadris: a land that stretches from the Kibrian Sea beyond Soraya all the way to the glimmering streets of The Gilded City—a name that has been elided over time into just one word: Gilead. The word is vast, populated by cities and rural areas alike. Magic is plentiful but, depending on your location, also feared.

“None of this would have happened under Queen Portia.”

“Quit yer belly achin’! The bitch is dead, ain’t nothing doing about that. Long live the king is what I say. Long live the damn king.”

The story starts in the satellite town of Anka: a small, meager village in comparison to the large, tiered city of Soraya that sits on a tall hill in the distance. Anka has always sat in the shadow of was once a bustling, prosperous city. These days, however, the only things coming out of the royal city of Soraya are hushed whispers and curious tidings. On one side, it stands aloft on a sharp cliffside that has a terrible drop of over a thousand feet; on the other, miles of farmland stretch as far as the eye can see. It is rumored that, in certain circumstances, the cliff was used as a form of capital punishment, though no one has heard of anyone taking “the Great Leap” in over fifty years. Anka, the town in which the party has found themselves, is full of travelers and tradesmen: it’s meant to be a merchant’s stopover between the traveler’s road and Soraya itself. The town is near to overflowing, though, like people who should have made their way on to Soraya a few days ago or even a few weeks ago have been forced to rethink their plans.

The gates at Soraya are closed.

The party is gathered at the Quick Cup, an inn about a day’s ride from Soraya splat in the middle of Anka.

Current party members as of session one:

Aeleyn, Elven Ranger (played by Renne): looking for answers in all the wrong places. She has lost trust in her father and has decided to seek out the truth on her own after living a life of privilege.

Fen, Human Druid (played by Jade): plagued by prophetic dreams, she sleeps uneasily.

Nemo, Human Umbramancer (played by Amanda): As he faced the sun, he cast no shadow. Has little memory of what happened to him before acquiring these interesting shadow-based powers. Only his brother, Linus, remains in his heart.

Rowan, Lightborn Cleric (played by Rogue): optimistic and a bit naive, hoping the world is as good as she’s always dreamed it would be.

Sariel, Elven Fury (played by Jordan): ruled by a power she cannot control, she has run away from home to protect the ones she loves...from herself.

An older man who introduces himself as Brendan Tubow is complaining loudly about his inability to enter the city and sell his season’s harvest. Brendan’s son, a skinny, blond farm boy named Gaer, looks embarrassed but hopeful as the party takes interest in the farmer’s plight.

“My crop is good, but bloody hell, there ain’t no way into that damn fortress these days!” Brendan complains.

A swarthy looking duo from the table next to the party growls back, “The Guild will take what you’re selling, you know.”

Brendan gets red in the face and nearly spits. “Yeah, the Guild will buy our product: for a tenth of what it’s worth, and then sell it for twice what we ought to have been paid. Agrona Three Fingers is just as likely to slit my throat as pay for my supplies. No thank you.” Brendan turns back to the rest of the table and remains morose about his plight.

The group figures out that the Thieves’ Guild is somehow managing to get food and other supplies into Soraya in some capacity. They must have a way in, but the party is not inspired to approach the Guild for help, considering how Brendan talks about them.

Nemo sees Agrona, a rugged looking woman in the back, wearing a hood over her blond hair, fiddling with her daggers. She does indeed have only three fingers on her left hand. “Be careful,” Gaer whispers covertly. “She’s real dangerous.” In an attempt to find an alternate way into the city, Nemo approaches Agrona and asks, “So, if we were trying to get into the city without using the Guild’s methods, how would we do it?”

She replies with a curt, “I am Guild.” And Nemo promptly turns tail back to the rest of the party.

A mysterious woman at the bar with jet black hair cut around her ears makes eyes at the table and Rowan, curious, approaches her. She introduces herself as Selene Shou and buys Rowan a beer. “To Soraya,” she says. “May she someday break her chains.”

“Oy, we don’t tolerate treasonous talk around here!” the barkeep shouts, shaking his finger at her.

“I can’t speak freely here,” Selene bites out through gritted teeth. “But if you can get inside the city and meet me at the Silver Jackal, you may prove useful to the cause. Use portends gold, amongst other things.” Selene wants proof that you are intelligent or sneaky enough to get into the city on your own. She has her ways, but she wants to see how you fare. “Just know, there’s always another way.”

Gaer explains that it has been six months since her Majesty Queen Portia, hallowed be her name, passed into the great unknown, leaving her half-brother, Lord Karver Cane, to rule over the Phoenix Fields in the wake of her untimely demise. “She was so young and good. They’re not sure what exactly did her in.” Ever since then, the gates to Soraya have been shut.

The party agrees to help Brendan and Gaer get inside the city. Gaer offers his late mother’s necklace in return for helping the group, which the party refuses (mostly: Nemo is definitely eyeing it). Otherwise, the two farmers have little to offer. The group decides to help regardless.

The party spends the night on the outskirts of Anka in a barn owned by one of Brendan’s acquaintances. Sariel has a bit of a run in with a cow. Aeleyn and Sariel, as they both only need 4 hours of meditation per night to get a full night’s sleep, take turns keeping watch. While Sariel is awake, she sees that Gaer is pretending to be asleep. She approaches him and Gaer admits that he is an arcane caster, or a magic user. He is keeping this secret from his father because he wants to be seen as normal. He also knows that there are rumors about Soraya, about how magic is feared there, about how arcane casters are being arrested just for being who they are. Sariel agrees to keep his magic a secret.

The next day, the group makes their way to the gates of Soraya, which are indeed closed. A large group of people are standing in line outside the gates, regardless, in various feeble attempts to bribe their ways into the city. Sariel and Rowan, through a couple of key persuasion rolls and bribery, manage to acquire passage for the cart and one person to enter the city. The guard says that Rowan reminds him of his sister. “You have her eyes.” The group decides that Brendan should go and that they will keep Gaer for now.

An old woman Gaer refers to as Granny Allie sees that the group is a little lost at how else they can enter Soraya.  “You’re wasting your luck,” she croaks out. “You’d be better off going through the tunnels than waiting for these lot to grow more tender hearts.”

Gaer waves her off. “Come on, Granny Allie, enough of that fanciful talk.”

The group asks Gaer if it is possible there are tunnels under the city. “Well, the city is very old. And it’s said that before the city of Soraya was build, another stood below it. This place is called Pheonix Fields, you know. Out of the ashes, Soraya grew. In the soil beneath, it’s said that there are ruins of another city. But that’s just a story, part of the myth.”

“Not rumors! I’ve been there, to Hellbor, when I was younger and I still had my leg,” Granny Allie tells the party. “I’d be going through the tunnels now, but I’m too old and too broken. You lot, though. You have spirit. You should be able to make it through.” She tells the party about a group of ruins in the Northern Wilds, the forest next to the Phoenix Fields and Soraya, where there is an entrance to the undercity of Hellbor. “You’ll be able to get into the city from there. No use haggling with these miscreants. I’ve seen them take your money and then close the gates in your face before.”

The group decides to try to find the tunnel into Hellbor and makes their way across the farmland that divides the gates of Soraya from the Northern Wilds.

Sariel has experienced the Northern Wilds before: her people live in the Southern Wilds on the other side of the Felian Wall, the structure that divides the forest into two distinct halves. The Southern Wilds holds the city of Alanar, Sariel’s home. The Northern Wilds, on the other hand, is where Alanar sends its young people to complete their coming of age. The Northern Wilds is known to hold many great beasts, monsters and animals that are held off by the wards around Alanar. She tells the group that the Northern Wilds are dangerous but the group decides to press on regardless.

Fen, as a druid, senses that something has disturbed the wild nature of the forest. The group makes their way deep into the forest before coming across a bizarre scene: a few statues of fearful goblins seem to have been embedded into the tapestry of nature around them. Another statue, one of a girl looking out resolutely, is discovered.

“Oh shit,” Sariel says nervously, remembering stories her parents told her about the things that lived on the other side of the Felian wall.

The group is then attacked by a large basilisk, which is handled fairly successfully, besides the fact that Gaer, the party’s ward, has been turned to stone. By the end of the battle, another basilisk approaches as well as the sound of many footsteps.

A handsome man with long hair tied back into a short ponytail in perhaps his mid twenties comes upon you with nearly twenty men and women in tow: all with weapons aimed at you, all dressed in similar garb, all ready to kill. “If you want to see your friend alive and well once more, you’ll drop your weapons and come quietly,” he says gravely.

session 2 recap »