#like. in dragon age 2 you are in the fade to save a child whose death or possession might be the last straw in an ever growing tension

[zevranunderstander]

dragon age is a series that annoying people who like to discuss politics and character dynamics in sociopolitical climates like to play and it's developed by a studio that is entirely unaware of that

[raviotherabbit]

royal pain in the ass - chapter 2

Chapter 2: Era of Warriors Queen Zelda protects her city.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

  △ ▲△

“I’m worried.”

Zelda looked up from her desk to see Time, standing in the doorway of her strategy room. His arms were crossed and his shoulders were tense, and he was notably avoiding her gaze. He looked straight down at the ground as he spoke to her.

“I see.” Zelda put her pen to the side. “You know, this reminds me of something.”

Time sighed. “Your majesty, I-”

Zelda interrupted him. “I’ve told you before. To you, little Link, it’s just Zelda.”

Finally, Time looked up at her, and he broke out into a smile that Zelda remembered fondly. Though he was no longer the child she knew, she could at least see a part of him stayed youthful.

“Sit,” she gestured to the chair across from her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

When Time sat, it was like he was letting go of more weight than his own. “I’m… concerned. About the heroes.”

Zelda nodded understandingly. “You’ve become a sort of de facto leader, haven’t you?”

“They’re getting antsy,” he explained, but he spoke slowly, choosing his words. “I think they’re wondering when this journey is going to wrap up.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” she commented.

Time grimaced. “I know. But truthfully, I have no idea how close we are.”

“So you want advice to keep them happy until then?”

“Something like that,” Time admitted.

Zelda considered this for a moment, idly tapping her desk with her finger. “Well, you could try taking more breaks.”

“We stop to rest every night.”

“Not that,” she corrected him. “I mean, take a few days off, every now and then. Try to visit their families and friends, if you can.” She grinned a little wider. “I’ve also heard quite a bit about your ranch.”

Time chuckled at that. “What can I say? My wife has taken a liking to them.”

“Oh?” Zelda perked up. “Let me guess! You married that redheaded girl you were always talking about, didn’t you?”

Time abruptly stood, almost knocking his chair over. “I should probably check on the boys, thank you for your suggestion your majesty-” he bowed hurriedly, already backing up towards the door. “-I’ll consider it.” He then full on sprinted out the door.

How rude! Zelda didn’t think she teased him THAT badly when he was younger.

“Little Link, wait!” she called out, running after him. “Tell me all about her!”

  △ ▲△

When one of the hero’s portals opens up in the hall leading to her throne room, Queen Zelda Artemis Hyrule is relieved. Sure, a mysterious, swirling portal appearing out of thin air just feet in front of her is both jarring and on the nose, but she can’t find herself complaining. It’s been far too long since Link has been home, and though they’re well-equipped to handle the oncoming horde of monsters by themselves, a few extra heroic hands certainly wouldn’t hurt.

But when the figure who stumbles through the portal is not Link, nor any of the eight other heroes travelling with him, well… it’s fair to say Zelda’s a bit confused.

“Oh, goodness,” the girl mutters, bracing herself with her hands on her knees. “That really is disorientating…” She holds up a hand to the two of them as the portal blinks to a close. “Just a… just a second.”

Zelda glances to her side and meets the eyes of her general, who appears to be just as put off as she is.

“Okay.” The girl stands straight, and finally getting a good look at her face, Zelda’s struck with an intense feeling of familiarity. “Alright,” she brushes herself off, extending a hand out to the queen. “I’m Queen Zelda Sarya Hyrule. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh!” Zelda brightens. “That explains it!” She takes her counterpart’s hand, and the two firmly shake. “Queen Zelda Artemis Hyrule.”

“Artemis…” she muses to herself. “The Hero of Warriors must be yours, then?” She gasps, moving on without even waiting for an answer. “That means you fought in the War Across the Ages! How fascinating! You must tell me-” She moves to take Zelda’s arm, but pauses when she notices the sword in her hand. Her head turns to General Impa, who’s similarly armed with her giant sword.

The other Zelda tilts her head. “Wait, is something happening here?”

Impa laughs, boisterous and loud. “Yes, young queen. I’d say something is.”

The more Zelda thinks about it, though, the more it makes sense. This kid is her relative, in some way, so she’s gotta be tough. She places a hand on her shoulders and spins her around, walking her down the hallway with them. “Let me guess. You’re the Hero of the Wild’s Zelda?”

She nods, though she’s still nervously glancing at their swords. “Flora.”

“I figured as much. Flora,” Zelda smiles, smirking back at Impa. “How about this? If you help us with this monster horde, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

  △ ▲△

Flora’s not sure what she expected when she set off through a mysterious time travelling portal. Maybe a glimpse into the lifestyles of ancient times, or even an ancestor who welcomed her warmly and had interesting insights about Hyrule’s history. By the dragons, she’d even take a forest, Wild said they land in forests a lot.

But no, apparently she gets to meet her battle-crazy ancestor whose first reaction to seeing her is ‘Let’s take her out in the field!’

Now, she’s trying desperately to avoid looking Artemis in the eye. Of course, Artemis, for her part, pushes her through a pair of large double doors, and for a moment Flora thinks she’s back in the guards’ barracks. The walls are lined to the ceiling with everything from swords to clubs, delicately and almost blindingly polished. The gleam of a rather terrifying battleaxe catches her eye, and she sweats at the sight of it.

“You need a sword, definitely,” Artemis proclaims, pulling a sword from its display. It’s modest, sure, but its intricate design reminds Flora of the Royal Broadswords Wild enjoys in their own time.

“Uh, Queen Artemis-” Flora tries.

She dismisses her protests with a wave of her hand, depositing the sword with Flora. “Please, just Artemis.”

“Okay.” Flora nervously glances down at the sword. “Artemis-”

With a gasp, Artemis rushes over to the shields, pulling Flora behind her. She picks up a kite-shaped shield, with golden detailing. “This is the type I used for my first battle!” she explains, eagerly shoving it into Flora’s hands. “Aw,” she coos. “You look just like I did.”

Flora’s face turns bright red and a shame burns its way into her chest. “Artemis, I… I can’t.”

“Of course you can!” Artemis insists. “Don’t worry about breaking them, I can always commission more.”

Wow, if that isn’t a thought so foreign to Flora. Her Hyrule’s currently running on weaponry made at least one hundred years ago, so needless to say, breaking one is a bit of a concern.

“No,” Flora tries again, “I mean, I physically can’t use these. I don’t know how.” She awkwardly holds the sword and shield in front of herself, accentuating her point.

Artemis’s face falls, her brimming happiness gone in a second. “Ah.”

And then, just like that, she’s back to how she was before. Gingerly, she takes the sword from Flora’s hand. “Then… don't worry about that,” Artemis says. “What about your powers?”

Flora winces. “They’re… gone.”

Once, she told Link that she was okay with that, and truthfully, Flora still felt like she was. But with Artemis, her ancestor, looking down at her, it's suddenly the worst failure of her life since the Calamity.

“Gone?” Artemis asks.

“Well, it’s more like they faded,” Flora amends. “I used them extensively against Ganon, but they haven’t been the same since then.”

“I see…” Artemis’s brow furrows. She turns away from Zelda, eyes scanning over the wide array of weapons, as if any of them can offer her a solution.

Some part of Flora is still a child, the same child who searched desperately for ways to meet her father’s hefty expectations. The child with a great sense of duty she could never fulfill, and so looked for alternatives. That child must still be with her, because Flora pulls out her Sheikah Slate and holds it out to Artemis.

“What about this?” she asks, hope seeping in at the edge of her voice. “It can summon bombs, and- and it freezes enemies, as well.” She takes a sharp breath. “I won’t be useless.”

Artemis inspects the slate for a moment, leaning down to Flora’s level to get a better view of it. When she reaches out to poke the Sheikah Eye, Flora has to resist yanking the slate away from her.

She hums to herself. “What a strange relic. And you’re certain it will be enough for you?”

“Yes,” Flora asserts, but she clutches onto the Sheikah Slate just the slightest bit harder.

Artemis claps her hands together, and her bright and beaming smile returns. “Well then, Queen Zelda-” her tone is almost joking. “-keep the shield. I clear you for active duty.”

Somehow, despite herself, Flora laughs, a light and friendly giggle. “Thank you, Queen Zelda.”

  △ ▲△

Artemis leads the defense, with all the grace and beauty a queen should have. With her rapier outstretched, she directs her troops across the field. The soldiers charge, and there’s the distinct sound of metal colliding as they meet the Bokoblin attackers.

For her part, Artemis defends herself well. With a flourish, she spins and slices through several Bokoblins with a golden light. Her movements are precise and elegant.

Flora, meanwhile, wants to run away from this all as fast as possible. All of Hyrule Field is chaos, the clamoring of weapons and the frantic shouting. A Bokoblin locks in on her, and Flora gets an up-close and personal showing of its ravenous eyes and monstrous breath as it grabs onto her wrist.

Fight or flight kicks in, and in Flora’s case, she chooses flight. She wrenches her arm away from the Bokoblin, just barely dodging a swing from its club. With a scream, she flees, jumping over a short, stone wall and sequestering herself behind it.

Everything about this, the fighting and the swords, it’s all so familiar. It’s almost like-

“Link, save yourself! Go!”

Flora squeezes her eyes shut, forcing that memory from her head.

With all the force she can muster, Flora throws one of the circular bombs over the wall, outstretching her Sheikah Slate and detonating it just as it reaches the Bokoblin. It goes flying, but as it does so, a giant, broad Moblin takes their place. At least, she thinks it’s a Moblin. It’s much larger than any of the ones in her time, but they do appear similar to the Bokoblins here. The ground shakes under the weight of its feet, and it carries a huge metal shield.

Oh fuck.

On pure instinct, Flora activates the Magnesis rune, latching onto the Moblin’s shield and lifting it as high as she can. The brute of a Moblin keeps its hold on its shield, though, so Flora starts shaking her Slate up and down frantically.

“Let go let go let go-!”

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me!”

Bargaining.

Flora violently slams the Slate towards the ground, which finally loosens the Moblin’s grip. But she doesn’t stop, bringing the shield back down and smashing it onto the Moblin, again and again. And then, only when the Moblin finally stops moving, does she sigh in relief.

Naydra’s ice, that was terrifying.

“Ah!”

“Run!”

Artemis!

Flora’s head snaps towards the sound of her ancestor’s shout. The troops have moved ahead, likely at their queen’s orders, but now Hylia’s two daughters are left on their own, and the sight freezes her to the core.

A dark figure stands over Artemis. He’s small, the size of a child. While it’s hard for her to pick out many details through the darkness, she can see the outline of masks strapped to his head and waist, as well as a long hat. Artemis’s rapier is laying a few feet away, useless, but the shadow’s sword is huge, pointed right at Artemis’s throat.

“All of you are like this,” the figure says to her, a mocking edge to his tone. “All of you are the same.”

“Stop this,” Artemis commands breathlessly.

The figure chuckles, and the shadows that compose his body shift. He grows taller, but not by much. The masks disappear, and the sword gains an hourglass symbol on its hilt.

“You’re one of the worst of them all, you know,” he chides. “You took more than you needed. You couldn’t save the day by yourself.”

With his laugh turning sinister, the shadow changes shape one last time, growing to around Artemis’s height. And this form is one Flora recognizes.

The shadow takes on the appearance of the Hero of Warriors.

“One hero wasn’t enough for you,” the shadow cackles. “It was never enough!”

“That’s not what happened!” Artemis strikes back, only to have the sword jutted closer to her throat.

The shadow wipes a tear from his eye, before focusing back on Artemis. “Farewell, your grace.” He raises his sword, prepared to strike, when-

“No!”

“No!”

Before she realizes what she’s done, Flora uses Stasis on the figure. The yellow chains appear, and the figure is stopped in its tracks.

For a second, Artemis sits there, bewildered.

Flora cups her mouth and shouts, “Attack it now! Before the rune wears off!”

Her words snap Artemis from her confusion, and the queen is up in an instant. She raises her hands above her head as they begin to glow, and suddenly, a bow and arrow appears in her hands. Taking aim at the shadow, Artemis glowers at him before releasing the Light Arrow right into his chest.

The dark figure is sent flying back, and Flora cheers, jumping and shaking her arms in excitement. She runs up to Artemis practically beaming.

“Oh, you did it!” she exclaims, latching onto her ancestor’s arm. “I’m so happy that worked! You were amazing!”

“You think so?” Artemis dusts herself off with her free arm, lightly chuckling. “It was your quick thinking that saved me.”

Flora awkwardly rubs at the back of her neck. “Really, that was nothing-”

“Well, well, well…”

The two queens are interrupted by the dark figure, taking on the form of swirling shadows, picking himself back up. Artemis raises a hand in front of Flora defensively.

“I thought you might be here, young queen,” he remarks. “Though I admit, your little stunt took me by surprise.”

As his form begins to solidify once again, Flora’s eyes go wide and she clutches onto Artemis’s arm. She knows that battered tunic, that messy hair…

“You should know better than to go charging blindly into danger, after all.”

“No, no… Link! Get up!”

It’s Wild.

“They’re much better off without the two of you.” The shadow glares at them, his eyes, shaped just like Wild’s, pure red with hatred. When he glances back towards the rest of the battle, which has died down, his face drops even further. With a disgruntled sigh, he bows to the queens.

“This isn’t over, your majesties.”

The shadow sinks into the ground, and then, right before their eyes, he’s gone. But for a moment, the two queens don’t move. They stare at the spot he disappeared, frozen as their adrenaline fades away.

Finally, Flora manages to break out of her terror, turning towards Artemis. “Er, what was that?”

Artemis sighs, shoulders drooping as she allows herself to relax. She places her heads in her hand and, silently, walks back towards the castle, leaving Flora behind.

“You’re going to be just fine.”

Oh, Link. Where are you?

  △ ▲△

Artemis packs her bag. Anything she looks at that could be useful, she throws it into her satchel. Rupees, clothes, shoes, swords. After a brief consideration, she takes off her crown, leaving it on her bed. She figures that if she shows up to someone else’s palace wearing a crown, she may cause an incident.

When she finally figures she’s got everything she needs, Artemis throws the satchel over her shoulder and briskly leaves her room. She doesn’t spare it another glance.

She finds Flora and Impa together in the throne room, Flora sitting on the red carpeted steps below her throne with her chin in her hands. Impa’s by her side, awkwardly attempting to figure out emotional honesty.

“Did I do something wrong?” Flora asks Impa. “She seemed very upset when she left.”

“Well,” Impa tries, but emotions aren’t really her strong suit. “It was a rough situation.”

“Was there something I could have done better, though?” Flora gestures. “I just wish I knew how these things worked.”

Impa scoffs. “You and me both.”

“Flora,” Artemis calls out to her fellow queen, announcing her presence to the two.

“Your majesty,” General Impa stands to attention immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine, Impa,” Artemis states, before looking down at her descendant, moping on the stairs. “I’m coming with you.”

Flora perks up. “Really?” she asks, standing with the other two.

Artemis nods. “You heard that thing. It’s done something to our heroes. You wouldn’t have been brought here if Hylia didn’t intend for us to save them.”

Impa frowns. “Queen Zelda, what about the kingdom?”

“I’ve already thought of that, Impa,” Zelda tells her. “I’m leaving you in charge.”

“Wh- what? Me?!” Impa sputters out. “Your majesty, you can’t be-”

But Artemis holds up a hand, silencing her general. “You’re the only one who knows this kingdom as well as I do. There’s no one I’d trust with this role more than you.”

Impa’s breath catches on her throat and her eyes go wide. Perhaps realizes there’s no arguing her way out of this, she bows to the queen. “It’s an honor, your majesty.”

Just as she says so, a portal tears through reality, a thrum inviting the queens to step through. Artemis gives one last nod to Impa, before turning to Flora.

“Are you ready, Queen Zelda?” she asks, a smile stretched wide across her face.

“Of course, Queen Zelda,” Flora responds, raising a fist in triumph. “Our Links are counting on us!”

And so, side by side, two Hylian rulers step into the unknown.

[only-lonely-stars]

The Future is Bright, Chapter 1

[Chapter 1 (Beginning) - you are here!] // [Chapter 2] // [Chapter 10 (End)] (FFN)

Credit for the inspiration of this newest story goes to @hot-anime-plundar! I finally got around to writing it in full (10 chapters). :) Thank you for allowing me the use of your idea! Updates will be on Sundays.

Summary: What would happen if Cole had indeed had a reflection in the tomb of the First Spinjitzu Master? How would that have changed his life later? What would it have been? This story follows what might have happened if he had seen something, and what it was; who he would have become. What if his future was already decided?... (Rated T for safety. Alternate title: the Cosmic Spoilers AU.)

Chapter 1: The Tomb and the City

The arrival of ghosts was not something any of the Ninja expected, and certainly not something Cole had thought would happen to them. No, he hadn't expected anything like what had happened; what’s more, he really didn't like being stuck as a ghost.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could change the fact that he was a ghost. It was… irreversible.

Days, weeks later– how long had it been?– he was stuck in an underwater ship, going to Lloyd's grandfather's tomb. It was a wild goose chase, but they were there to hunt down a magic crystal and hope that Morro hadn’t killed the youngest of his brothers. It was a dire thought, but there was at least a little levity; the irony of it all made it at least a little bearable.

The seawater crashed against R.E.X.’s walls as they descended, and Cole tried to ignore it by cataloguing the events since Morro’s return. As he thought back to the beginning of this mess, it was a bit of a blur in his memory. One moment they’d been trying to advertise the tea shop, the next they were fighting for their lives and Lloyd’s freedom; it was all just too fast to keep straight.

He was too tired to remember.

No, he couldn’t say that anymore. Of course. Cole couldn’t blame tiredness, or hunger, or thirst, or anything he felt, for how messy the whole deal was. Now that he was a First-Master-forsaken ghost, he couldn’t feel anything but cold and emptiness… how fitting.

It was almost a relief when conversation resumed and they were attacked by a giant squid. Then they were at the tomb, with R.E.X. gone… and everyone else felt just as cold as he did.

-----

When they reached the ice maze, they knew Morrow was ahead of them, but it was hard to ignore the grandeur of the place despite him. Around them, great walls of ice reached up, dwarfing the Ninja as they regained their breath from the slides that went down to it from the chamber with the golden staff. Ice coated every surface but the rocky floor, making for traction but not the same amount of reflection. There was a source of light somewhere unknown, filtering through the ice in its watery way, and it made the area almost feel sleepy.

As he took in the surroundings, Cole couldn’t help but look up, up, up at the walls and wonder what the caves were for. Were they always there? Did the First Master make them? It was a curious thought– had the creator of the realm made something without the Golden Weapons, too?

The four didn’t take very long to stop and marvel, resolving to continue in and follow Morro. After all, they had to beat him to the Realm Crystal. However, they stopped again when they reacted the first of the ice walls.

When they reached it, Zane approached the wall alone, curiosity written on his mechanical features. “My reflection… is that me?” He paused, examining it and turning his head this way and that. “I look older, but my attire is… different. This is not what I look like right now at all.”

“Really?” Kai followed him. Then he stared at himself, taking a moment to redo the spikes in his hair a little. “Well… mine looks like me, but older. There’s a bunch of magic junk in this tomb; makes sense that the ice walls are magic too.” He grinned. “By the way, I aged super well.”

“Wait, really?” Jay ran up to his own with a beaming grin. “Let’s see!” He looked himself over in glee. “Woah ho ho! I get an awesome eyepatch!” he yelled, voice echoing through the caverns.

“Shh!” Kai hissed. “Jay! Morro’s in here!”

“I know, I know, give me a break!” Jay laughed. “Magic ice is telling me I’m gonna be a pirate, and he knows already.” He touched the ice. “There’s just a thing next to me– a blur. What is that…” Jay stopped talking and watched as the blur shifted, and then sighed, sounding completely smitten. Now he whispered. “...I end up with Nya.”

Cole tried to hear what Jay said, but for once, he was too quiet. Cole only shrugged to himself– it was probably nothing. No, he walked up to the ice wall as well, taking a moment to look at the others before his reflection. “I wonder what mine is.”

“Well, look at it!” Kai called. “We don’t have forever!”

“Fine.” After a moment of trepidation, Cole looked to the ice.

As soon as Cole caught sight of his reflection, Cole couldn’t help but stare. Looking back at him in the ice was himself. He didn’t smile or move if Cole didn’t, but it was no vision of his current self… it really was the future.

In the ice, Future Cole’s hair was longer. He wore white and blue, not black– a sort of robe that tied at the waist, with a belt that had his dragon symbol for the clasp. However, two things were most surprising: a yin-yang pin on his chest, and an orange scar on his very much not ghostly temple, reaching halfway down his face. He was everything that Cole was not right now.

As Cole took in the image, he couldn’t help but grin. Future Cole grinned too, and laughter lines appeared by his eyes. He stared, taking in the sight of himself, until he heard the sound of Kai’s impatient footsteps behind him. “Well? What do you see? You got all quiet.”

Cole turned to him, still grinning wildly, and couldn’t help a little laugh. “I’m human again!”

“What? That’s impossible!” Kai cried. “I mean, it’s good, but it’s still impossible!”

“Apparently not!”

“Kai, you forget that we believed ghosts were impossible before recently,” Zane interrupted, coming over to look as well. “Cole, what do you see?”

“I… well, I’m human.” He examined it again in awe. “There’s… there’s a weird scar on my temple, but otherwise it’s like nothing ever happened.”

Jay laughed. “That’s awesome! You don’t stay a ghost!” He tore his eyes away from his reflection and came up to Cole’s, looking at it curiously. “That’s weird... You’re dressed differently than I am.”

Cole tore his eyes away and looked at Jay. “Really? What do you mean?”

Jay shrugged. “I’m wearing something like, I don’t know, a sensei’s robe. You’re wearing a dress!”

“It’s not a dress! Those are formal robes!” He looked back at it, frowning. “Though… white and blue isn’t like the Ninjagian royal family, so that can’t be it. Plus, a yang pin…”

Kai gaped. “You’ve got a yang?!” The sound of his shout echoed through the ice maze, shrill and bouncing off the ice.

“Quiet!” Zane hissed, covering Kai’s mouth with one freezing cold hand. “Remember, Morro is here. We must stay focused!”

Cole grimaced as Kai recoiled from Zane’s touch. “Crud– okay, yeah. Having a yang is not so great, but let’s talk later!” He glanced back at the ice one last time. “We’d better find Morro.” Still, that was his future self...

He frowned again. Was his reflection glowing green, like a ghost? Why would it glow like that if he was human?

Realization crashed down with even more ghostly coldness as the glow darkened and grew. It wasn’t his reflection, or anything like it.

The words ripped from his throat before he could think. “Morro’s here! LOOK OUT!”

-----

For years, the memory of the First Spinjitzu Master’s tomb was one that stuck with Cole more closely than he would admit to anyone.

Long after Morro and the Preeminent had been defeated, he still found himself sometimes thinking about what he’d seen. Some days he’d ignore it, knowing he’d recognize his path when he saw it. Other days it would weigh on him, much more than it ever did on the others. After all, he had a different fate than them, and apparently a yang to go with it. What did that leave for him to decide?

Nevertheless, and despite Cole’s worries, it didn’t seem to come. Years passed with no sign of any of his brothers’ futures coming to pass– the only exception was Jay, whose relationship with Nya was rebuilt stronger than ever. Even so, the rest (including the eyepatch) didn’t seem to happen, and Cole wondered if it ever would. Maybe it was a trick, or a test from the First Master. What if it wasn’t real at all?

Whatever the truth was, the vision slowly faded from his mind, and he eventually conceded to let it come to pass when it would. There was too much to do and think about, anyway; a biker gang, being stranded in another realm (or three), and evil emperors were just a few of them. There was never a rest, never a break, until after they’d liberated the prisoners of Prime Empire. It was only then that he remembered the vision… and promptly tried to ignore it again.

Despite Cole’s desire to avoid his memories, another adventure came too quickly for his liking. It was an invitation to a place he’d only heard stories of, mostly from his mother as a child. It was to the mythical city of Shintaro, deep in the mountains in central Ninjago. On the surface, it looked like a vacation, but Cole knew better; it was bound to become yet another mess to clean up.

When they at last arrived, the Ninja looked in awe upon the ivory city. There were spires and minarets on every building, and especially the palace. The city’s flagstone streets were perfectly clean, the roofs were gilt, the people were the fairest-skinned people Cole had ever seen– all in all, it was a true wonder to see.

The city’s force of winged guards escorted them to the palace as honored guests, having saved them from horrid direbats as they entered. As they went into the palace, their eyes caught on the vaulted and painted ceilings, buttresses, and columns everywhere. Every wall seemed to be inlaid with gold and carvings, or painted beautifully enough that they would stop looking where they were going. That was what happened when Kai walked into Lloyd, who had stopped to stare– they’d hit their heads, and rubbed them ruefully as Nya rolled her eyes.

Despite their distraction and awe, the Ninja eventually reached the throne room, and without injury. When they reached it, two Shintaran guards opened the doors. The captain of the guard–a man named Hailmar, if Cole had heard him correctly– led them in, gesturing to them and bowing to the throne.

“It is with great honor, King Vangelis,” he cried, “that I present the famed Ninja of Ninjago!”

At his announcement, the king stood from where he’d been sitting on his throne to greet them. He wore white and blue robes that struck Cole as being very familiar, but he struggled to place the familiarity. The king didn’t seem to notice his confusion, as he smiled at them and spread his hands.

“Welcome, welcome! I’m most pleased that you were able to accept our invitation.” The king bowed in greeting. “It is an honor.”

“The honor is ours,” Sensei Wu responded with a matching bow. “Shintaro is beyond anything we imagined.”

The king smiled benevolently. “I’m only a figurehead. The citizens of our proud city are the heart of Shintaro.”

“Oh!” A cheerful voice came from the side of the throne room. “They’re here!”

Cole looked over to its source. The voice belonged to a lovely young woman, dressed in white and blue robes to match the king’s. She was grinning excitedly, and bowed in greeting hastily. Cole’s eyes caught on her– she was beautiful, in a young sort of way, and he immediately knew she was the princess. The colors were still so strangely familiar...

The king beamed at his daughter as she entered. “Ah! Please, meet my heart– her royal Princess Vania.”

Vania happily approached them, coming to stand in front of the Ninja with barely-contained excitement. “I am such a fan of yours. I’ve read all about your adventures! It was my idea to invite you to my birthday.”

Cole couldn’t help but smile at her. Her enthusiasm was infectious! He hadn’t realized it, but she was at least half a head shorter than him– not that her small stature contained her enthusiasm. “Well, it’s an honor to be here, Princess.”

She smiled back, cheerful and bright, and looked among them. “So, is it true that you’ve been to Hiroshi’s Labyrinth?”

“Affirmative,” Zane noted cheerfully.

“Competed in the Tournament of Elements?”

“Oh, do we have stories for you,” Kai added with a grin.

She gasped. “I need to hear them all!”

“Where shall we begin?” Cole was about to tell her a story, but he stopped, for Hailmar had descended between them. He was frowning, clearly protective and watching Cole distrustfully. However, he stepped aside for the king, who set a hand on Cole’s shoulder.

“You can begin by following me!” the king interjected with a smile. “Tomorrow will be a very busy day for all of us; I will show you to your rooms here.” He led them to hallway, and the whole group began walking together.

“Cole, the Earth elemental,” Vania began, coming up alongside him with no sign of losing her excited smile. “What is it like to command the very earth? Is it as fun as it sounds?”

He grinned back at her– it wasn’t hard. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s what I thought. Personally, it sounds amazing! Imagine what you could do with the mountains!”

“Oh yeah, just about anything you can think of! It’s pretty cool.”

King Vangelis hummed in interest. “Are you quite strong, Cole?”

Cole looked to him, then shrugged sheepishly. “Well, uh, I guess. Not the strongest person– that’s probably Karloff– but I can move a lot.”

Vania flushed a light pink. “Come on, Father! He’s the Master of Earth. I’m sure he’s very strong.”

“But of course,” the king said indulgently, though not with the same enthusiasm. “I’m sure the Master of Earth is more than a match for our mountains.”

Cole grinned self-consciously. “That’s really nice of you to say, your Majesty.”

“Think nothing of it,” the king dismissed. “I simply hope you find Shintaro as lovely as we do during your visit. I have personally seen to it that you will want for nothing while in our borders.”

Cole smiled properly at the king. “That’s really nice of you, your Majesty. Thank you.”

“Consider it thanks for all you’ve done for us.” Vangelis smiled flatteringly. “After all, Ninjago’s business is our business. We’re at your service.”

“Yes, we are!” Vania repeated. “I’d be happy to show you around the palace, actually.”

“Well, we’d love a tour,” Cole responded hesitantly. “All of us are super excited to see Shintaro.”

“Of course.” A little wind seemed to be taken out of her sails, but she quickly bounced back. “I’d love to show you all around! I think there’s a spot in the garden you’ll love…”

From there, conversation flowed easily. Cole was completely engrossed in it, even as the king fell behind to talk to the others more, mostly with Master Wu. Behind the group, Jay stopped to whisper with Lloyd and Nya, watching Cole from behind.

“The princess seems to like Cole!” he remarked. “I mean, he’s my best friend and all, but… Cole?”

Lloyd glared at Vania’s back. “Yeah… weird.”

Nya elbowed Lloyd harshly. “Not every princess is like Harumi! Plus, Jay... you’re not subtle.”

“Nya, my darling, my yang, love of my life–”

“Jay.”

“–all I’m saying is that she has a thing for him! When has that happened?”

Nya was about to retort back, but paused, considering what he said. “...You know what? It’s been a while for him.” She pointed at Jay. “That’s really cool, but don’t tease him!”

Jay frowned, muttering. “I have to, he’s my best friend.”

Nya reached over and smacked him.

“Ow!”

“We’re in the presence of royalty!” she hissed.

“Fine,” he whined. “I won’t tease him in the presence of royalty.”

Lloyd gave him a curious look. “Is that code for ‘I’m going to bug him later?’”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

Lloyd snickered. “Do it.”

[dread-wolf-walking]

The World that Vengeance Knew - Chapter Two

[1]  2 - All Pride No Honour  [3]

Warnings: Angst , Sorrow, Implied Harm,  PTSD-ish, Psychological Warfare/Torture

Word Count: lots

@posttrespasser Finally adding to my FUN ANGST FIC!

Large eyes opened suddenly, reflective in a dark gloom; holding her breath as they adjusted. For what little light there was, it reflected against stone walls, old and damp, a pale fog settled just over the ground. She was laying on her stomach, cheek pressed against the cold surface, body aching from exhaustion. Only her wide eyes moved, first to look at herself, checking for any wounds or bindings; only when she felt no restraint or pain to move, Nevas placed her hand against the stone, pushing herself to sit up before resting against the wall close to her back.

She breathed in deeply, her first thought rising to the forefront. ‘Where am I?’ With her heart beating so rapidly, her senses pushed outwards to find any source of danger. Shadows of small skittering creatures caught her eyes as they darted over the walls and floors, breathing in; sounds of dripping reached her ears, but far away it might have been, breathing out. Nevas sought to find more of her surroundings, another shaky breath in, and a breeze moved over her knees, rattling a cage door making it creek like a dying cry. Breathing out; the palm of her hand touched the stone she sat on, it was cold, though she could feel the subtle sensation that magic had touched this place. In, at the back of her mind, something whispered sweetness and as she focused on it’s song, that tender kiss turned to a devouring lick, willing her to come forward.

Nevas coughed, having held her breath for far too long. The old voices within her scolded her in an ancient tongue with a sharp ‘tut’ to add insult. ‘The red song, you should know better. Strange that a warrior should feel it’s pull so great…….hmmm?’

“All you ever do is scold..” She hissed to herself.

There was a swell of emotion from those of the well, rising up like a parent would stand over a misbehaving child, ‘Because all you do is fumble,’ came in a harsh tone echoing strong as all those consumed by the well agreed with one another. Few more cried out she took far too long to put the pieces of a puzzle together, and Nevas shot back.

“Maybe if you helped rather than mock,” A growl quiet low with venom. Nevas grew wearily of these ancient tones, she was already exhausted from the battle previous and the encounter with Solas. While she could feel the annoyance that seeped from these voices, one small and soft came forward. It told her to breath much slower, for anger would only lead her to feel dizzy and unfocused, in such a tone that could only be described as childlike. As the pace of her heart slowed to something less panicked, yet still alert, a thought crossed her mind like a slap to the face.

“Wait, the battle!” Nevas stood quickly, only to regret it as black spots clung to her eyes, threatening to push her back down before she rested a shoulder against the wall, “What happened? Everyone….”

The voice of the Well groaned suddenly, ‘Well, she finally remembered her reality.’ Few chided, while the rest sought to help her piece her thoughts back together. They had come…’here’ for a confrontation, Nevas and what allies remained after the Inquisition had disbanded, what they had deemed to be the last battle to decide the fate of the world. Leliana had her few spies hurry back to confirm what was uncovered, that Solas had returned to Haven, to the Scar that glistened in the sky with clear intent to tear it open once again. And pull back the Veil.

“I’m….in the ruins of Haven?” Her eyes darted about, she felt as though this could have been a cell similar to the ones that she had been in when the Breach was made, but it was far too small and felt almost lived in as she spied a desk and chair, few books stacked on one another. “No….there wasn’t red Lyrium in Haven….”

She had to move, to see the rest of this place. Her legs burned as she pushed herself to walk, bruised knee caps making her steps less balanced as she clung to the wall, waiting for some strength to return. Nevas needed to know what had happened since her absence from the battle. She growled at herself to move, drawing what she could from her stamina, as that voice from before told her to breath from time to time. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, her arm dropped from the wall to find her balance.

With her eyes adjusted to the gloom of his place, a caged door gently swinging in a bull breeze came to view; having been the rattling sound she must of her before. At least she was not locked in, and it pushed open with ease as she moved forward.

Into a large hall she came, a whirling chilling breeze dropping in from the ruined ceiling as snow dusted the floor in patches; most of the roof had collapsed an age ago, rubble laying skittered about the ground below the holes. This place felt like an old meeting place, a ruler may stand in the centre surrounded by all their court to hear their declaration. Large pillars lined the sides though most had crumbled with the ceiling, her fingers extended to touch one as she passed by to step into the main area. Wooden benches were littered and upturned throughout, along with chairs and old cushions but candlelight glinted from around the hall, recently lit. ‘I don’t feel danger.’ She thought to herself, stopping by more of the fallen stone, turning to see more of her surroundings.

Breath in, a temple she stood in, one that held onto the magic that touched it; a place that had not since life for so long, but witnessed death so much not long. Breath out, a tug on her shoulder as though someone had pulled on her hand that once had been there; something familiar but felt like fire, crackling green sparked over head and an eerie green light flooded the hall beneath it. A heavy and slightly choked breath in, Nevas turned her gaze skyward only to feel dread pull the air from her lungs as she realised what it was above.

The Scar of The Breach caught the light of the fading sunlight, glittering rays of green illuminating the entire area as though she was back in The Fade; her stone limb reached out, fingers extending as though the appendage remembered the motion from when it was flesh.

“I’m…” Words caught in her throat, she had too many questions to pace her thoughts.

“Where it all began.” A voice too familiar to Nevas, cloaked in a low and dark tone.

Turning on her heel, her weapon drawn without question in her right while her other stayed stretched out, but defensive rather than clutching for answers. Nevas felt the fire of her Reaver burn around her heart, spreading outwards readying her for battle, her eyes burned a rage that might even make a demon tremble, but only one saw through that facade, like he always had; the quiver of her lip had always been a dead give away to her hesitation. A small thing, very few had ever saw it.

“Solas.”

The Elf who hid his true self from those whom called him friend, Fen’Harel was outfitted for battle; in the light of The Fade he looked like the God whose mantle he had refused to wear, until now. Similar attire he had worn at the elvens ruins where countess Qunari now stood as stone, gold plated armor down his legs and across his arms, but the pattern mimicked the circles of a Foci. Once a Wolf pelt perched on his shoulder, now an ebony fur layered over the top of the golden armor around his shoulders and over his chest, tapered to a point on his back, like a tail. It was as though someone had gone to the trouble of sewing rubies throughout the fur; The Dread Wolf’s gaze could see everything. Over his less favoured shoulder a piece of armor to protect it. All weak points covered.

And the staff on his back, craved to wolf’s head on top, emblazoned with three eyes and a wolf’s jaw as a blade at the tip of the staff.

He watched her silently, standing tall but some paces away, but she could feel the sting of his gaze loom over her. A Wolf calculating his next step, caught in a moment he thought would never come again; peering over His Love. Nevas finally breathed again, however rough, it did not stop the piercing gaze that shot up to him, nor its intensity as the colour within burned brightly. Solas held contact, a stone-like expression defining his sharp features didn’t match the pale sorrow within his eyes. She almost dropped the cold stare. Almost.

He knew His Love. She was the burning heart that tore through her enemies, a force of nature that everyone mistook for a bright-eyed innocent elf. Her soft features had made her hard to read, and she had surprised everyone with her wit, knowledge and the force that she fought with. Life had treated her poorly, but that had not broken her spirit or resolve. It only grew as he watched, The Warrior before him of Great Dragon’s blood, and yet….He had broken her.

“Why…..” She hissed through gritted teeth.

Solas still didn’t drop his eyes - he saw her before him, but in pieces; his doing. All for the restoration of The Empire he had destroyed so many years ago. He should not have indulged that kiss, nor pulled her back for another. Their relationship allowed both of them comfort, one she had never felt, and one he had abandoned to carry the weight of his mistakes. Slowly, he had watched her drop the brooding facade, giving more of herself, and he had loved everything she was. Her nature drew him closer, curious little elf hidden so well behind the walls she had put up. Even after Adamant, he had still been surprised to see her fall to her emotions, distraught that she could not save Alistair from The Fade, and surprised further still when she clung to him, weeping. A crack.

“Tell me why!” Nevas pressed again, her voice dark.

He was so sure she would have let Morrigan drink from the Well of Sorrows, he had been so overwhelmed once she stepped into the pool, it was little wonder he had been hard on her when they finally made it back to Skyhold. The woman he loved and adored bound to Mythal, a cruel twist of fate he had thought, until she thought to change the world with that knowledge and bring the culture back to The Dalish. A Reaver and a Scholar? An unlikely combination. He had been surprised by her, every step of the way; every little thing she did was something he had not expected. Had she really come from a Dalish upbringing, he had wondered so many times, but a spirit such as her’s could not be tamed by them.

“Answer me!” A desperate, and angry cry.

Even in Crestwood, having removed her Vallaslin, he had been in awe. Nevas showed more of herself then, beautifully enraged. She had been hurt, discarded even by the man she loved, but rather than beg for him to return, she had cursed him for leaving her in such a way. That was something he was not ready for. Solas had seen her lunge forth towards her enemies without mercy, bare witness to countless times she judged harshly on those that deserved it, but to have that face, that expression turned on him…. He had almost lost his resolve, A God catching his breath, second guessing himself over the gaze of a hardened elf.

“Stop agonising over the past and answer me!”

And yet, he had still braved forward with his mission. Even after watching her take down The Darkspawn Magister and his Dragon, she was fierce and calculated in battle against him, never stopping, even with deep wounds of her own. Solas had held his breath as she had flung Corypheus into the fade, tearing him apart and healed the sky above them. His orb had not survived the battle - it wasn’t her fault though, the blame rested on his shoulders, but it still stung to see his artifact in pieces. He had expected her to discard it, but instead, even after cursing his shadow of love, she had touched his shoulder, and expressed her sadness at the loss he felt. Like she knew.

“Solas!”

Her furious gaze was just like the one he had seen on the steps of those elven ruins not too long ago, the first time they had seen each other in two years. Even in all his preparation that he might see her again, even with all the knowledge his spies had recorded back to him about The Inquisitor, his resolve almost broke once again. Her innocent face had shaped into something a little more determined, those short curls he used to run his fingers through had been pulled into a long braid, just reaching past the curves of her hips. He wished he could reach down and hold her, whisper to her that nothing was wrong, but that was his mistake in the past. Solas knew she was his weakness, constantly looking out for her, any little bit of information.

But his cause was greater than….love….he was already committed to his plan to restore the world to what once was, and now there was no turning back.

“Because I made a mistake that cost our people everything.” He spoke finally, his eyes never leaving her, “You, of all people should know the burden…”

“What about my people Solas!? Genocide can’t be the only answer!” She begged, however her voice was still dark. “We deserve to live too! I know you see the world in a dark comparison to what it was, but we aren’t tranquil! A dwarf gave me a new arm!” Nevas hoped, eyes showed her determination, that drawing attention to her new limb would at least give him a moment to pause. It was a strange thing, many thought it wouldn’t work, the idea was too outrageous. It had taken Dagna a long time, and many failed attempts previously to get to what Nevas now used. A dull thrum of blue light glittered between the device and the end of her arm, lyrium willed to link flesh and stone together; Dagna had theorized that both still wished to be together, it was then a matter of having raw lyrium so close to her skin that had troubled them for so long. No longer something strapped to her she couldn’t use, Nevas had a fully functioning arm made of stone, and it had made her fighting style even more deadly.

Solas glanced down, eyeing the limb with a hard stare and pursed lips. He could not deny the genius behind such a creation, and she had been right to draw attention to whom had made such a thing. Dagna was clever, a dwarf would carved her own path within the world of magic, and there in front of him was something he didn’t even dream was possible, and while it didn’t mimic her original arm, it still looked like one rather than a piece of stone mined from the earth. Fingers that moved and flexed to her will, a defined wrist and an elbow and clearly someone had put some thought into the design, even sculpted to match the lines of her muscles that had once been there.

He sighed, “And yet, that was only one dwarf.”

“And I was only one Elf!” Nevas growled, getting to her feet to stand and face him.

“And look what happened to you!” Solas howled back to her, his eyes flickering a dark shade of anger within them, his steps brought him closer to Nevas. “You tried to show me this world was worth saving, but in doing so proved the opposite.” Amongst the anger, there was a hint of desperation to his voice, “You saved them from a world of chaos and darkness, and look at how they repaid you. They all, but a few, turned on you! Hunted you like a war criminal and tried to persecute you!” His eyes blazed once more as his hands turned to fists in frustration, “The humans sort to take any sort of authority you had, your own people turned you away because you no longer wore your Vallaslin, you were at war with The Qun, and while Imperium had no real issue with The Inquisition, you are an Elf; a being who should not rise to any authority!” Solas stared her down, challenging her resolve, “The whole world turned its back on you! Can’t you see why I am doing this? I will restore our people to their proper place! You of all people should understand this!”

Nevas could only stand there, blindsided, and the heavy truth that hit her with every word. “I can’t watch so many innocent people die!” Her eyes sparking a blood red as she flung words back at him, “It isn’t right to birth a new world at the suffering of the old!” Her anger matched his own, stepping forward to close the gap between them. She had always picked her battles with honour , what she believed was morally right, it was a little wonder why her and most of her inner circle had fallen from each other. Most of them wanted the world to go back to the way it was, and were happy for that change to never come. Nevas wanted a revolution of change, she wanted a world of peace and some semblance of equality, but, that required more than she could give. Once these choices were easy, but now, she could not bare the thought of more innocent people dying for a cause that might not be seen through; one lonesome elf was not enough to change the world a second time. Friends had gone, and only a few sought the same change.

“After everything they have done to you,” Solas reached out, voice shaking from anger and disbelief, “You still think this world deserves to flourish? There is no honour in this world….” Her hands twitched, he had hit a nerve. “And why would I want to save a world after seeing what they did to you?” While he had a hand or two in making her footing in Thedas unstable, he had not foreseen a witch hunt at the hands of the humans against her, then again, wasn’t this the reason he sought to ruin the world? To wipe out the scum and pave a new Empire for his people? “I will right the wrong I did to the people, I will save the Elves.” Perhaps that was a little reminder for himself, why he had hurt the woman he still loved.

Nevas couldn’t withhold her tears any longer, had she truly loved a man who thought that wiping out the life that stood in his way was the right thing to do? It pained her to feel love for someone who knew such hate and disdain; it tore her very being and shattered her heart, could could she love someone who had little regard for life of others?

“It shouldn’t be up to the will of one person to say who lives and who dies.” She was sobbing, but Solas hit back, “You did, didn’t you? I admired you for being able to make a hard choice, knowing that lives were at stake, you did it with a harden resolve, wars are won like such.” Nevas’ fingers bunched against her eyes, wiping away the tears as they pooled in the corners, her days of Inquisitor were long over, and she had sought to distance herself from such a title that bore the dread of having many under her command. “But now? You don’t want to sacrifice anyone anymore? No matter what, people will die, you cannot change the course of their fate. Not making a choice doesn’t mean it’s the right one.”

She was becoming frustrated, this was going nowhere, and she felt a crushing coldness through the pit of her stomach, she had failed to change his mind, and now anything she could have possibly have said was worthless. Solas had made up his mind and Nevas became infuriated at the revelation.

Her voice was acid, “Of all people, I know what it is like to live with the burden of my choices! You always told me, the more I try to fix my mistakes, the more it hurts when I cannot change the past!”

“I damned the Elves!” Solas lashed out, his expression practically livid, “How could that possibly not shape me!? Do you expect me to forget what I have done, to just cast it aside like it was nothing!?”

Nevas shook her head, “I don’t want you to forget. I want you to accept your mistakes.” Even in the harsh cold of the mountain ruins, Solas couldn’t help the warmth of pride for her grow in his chest, still ever fond of her way to make people think outside their usual perspective, and had he been a weaker man again then perhaps he may have found himself hesitating. However warm her words and his smile, his thoughts on the matter reflected the opposite.

“I accept my mistakes, but I will also right this wrong.” He said firmly, a snarl on his lips as she began to protest him, “Do not claim the moral high ground, Vhenan, there is no honour in what you are doing now!”

He stepped forward to close the gap between them, a distance that seemed like an age as he glided down a small set of stairs, his arms moving behind his back as those icy eyes never left her trembling figure. The sight of him walking towards her in his Godly attire was intimidating, Nevas clutched tightly at her sword as her gaze narrowed in on Solas, and while she was ready to hold her ground, pain across head forced her footing backwards; like a headache only the tension felt like a rope being pulled taut. What felt like her heartbreaking before now turned to a cracking sensation over her chest, her stone hand clenching over it as she breathed heavily. Left without an explanation, she reached for the well but was only given silence.

“You would deny the Elves a chance to return to the world were they were free and well off; a world in the image of equality, never slaves and no ‘Gods’ who demanded they follow?” Closer to her now, his words were like a blade that struck between the shoulder blades extending that shattered feelling around her entire torso, winding her. She was unable to get a word in against his and a panic rose in her as she stepped back, that cold dread started to grow with that cracking sensation and she whimpered, unable to hold her discomfort at bay any longer.

“You would seek to keep them in this world where they would forever remain at the heels of those who trampled you, and you would be unable to be their voice against the world, and you would be consumed by grief, unable to change the world. Either way, Vhenan,” Solas had closed the gap now, catching her as she started to drop to her knees but only to hold her gaze with his own narrowed and piercing stare, an arm around her waist and his thumb and index finger sliding under her jaw to lock her there. His eyes never left hers, even as they fell heavy with tears and her body had started to shake, Nevas begged of The Well for an response, but she was still met with silence.

Such pain couldn’t be the work of magic?

“Innocent people will die. This choice cannot be made off the back of ‘thinking’ we are right, but doing what is right. Not out of Pride, only Duty. If Honour had a place here, you would have killed me instead of hesitating when you had the chance.” His face was mere inches away from her, Nevas could feel his breath pressing against her cheek as she felt the final crack fissure through her being, but even the promise of his affection was not enough to silence her cry of agony as pain burned through her chest and mind, it twisted over and over again; Solas held her in place on her feet, still forcing her to look up at him as he spoke, “That - that pain you are feeling is proof that I am right - Honour; there was a spirit that lived within you, and now it stands shattered, having had its own nature turned against it.”

The Avvar had called her deeds Honourable; saving their tribe and their land, ultimately saving the world once again from a threat only the old spirits knew. After the Inquisition had been disbanded there had been no place for her, everything she knew was gone or changed; Bull had offered to take her within the ranks of The Chargers, but she said no. In the end, she had travelled back to Stone-Bear Hold, and the tribe had welcomed one who fought so bravely before. It was as close to her clan as she could come, being a protector and wiping out the rest of the Hakkonite fanatics; the tribe wondered about her nature, something so unhinged in battle but so silent during dinner. The Augur had been surprised to learn of her ignorance about the spirit who lived within her, though in light of her reaction when they had first come to The Hold it only made him laugh about those who hide themselves away from the world around them. Perhaps this is why so many went mad, he had wondered during mediation, unaware of the entity that resides inside they end up breaking or twisting it against its nature.

Spirits only wish is to join the living, Solas had said once.

“Honour is a fickle spirit, it will always try to do what is right, and that is it’s downfall.” His voice was but a whisper, rattled and clearly pointing to his own deeds so many years ago, but he continued still holding her by her waist with one arm and her jaw in his palm, “You are still you, that never changes, that spirit was more you than you were of it. Honour sought to grow and branch outwards into the word, and your time as Inquisitor nurtured it. Perhaps this was the reason why you were so different from The Dalish.” Solas hummed for a moment, reliving their first moments together, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted now, he was so close, “I admired the will and determination you had to not only bring peace to the world, but try and change it; you were not ready to let the world fall back into comfort, something needed to change.”

Nevas clung to Solas as though he was her next breath. One hand tensed around his upper arm while the other grasped at his shoulder, from there she couldn’t bear the thought of moving, fearing her very being would shatter much like her spirit. She had wanted to make that change, or even just be the start of it; there was nothing for her after the Inquisition, it would have been the right moment to turn and use her strength and witts to create a change. But didn’t. To be fair, she had lost her arm, her lover along with most of her sense of purpose, she had needed her own time to rest, but the world didn’t wait for her to recover.

“Honour was strong, however subjective. It should be bound to someone’s else morals, there by maintaining itself; Honour that which commands it. Mythal’s will, for instance, would have allowed your spirit to flourish.” He spoke softly, as though he was soothing her, Nevas wished she could pull away from such lies, he had been so enraged before, it felt wrong, “However, you are bound to Mythal, and your actions do not speak of her desires.”

“I wanted..” Nevas could only talk through clenched teeth, “I thought I was doing what was right, not everyone in Thedas deserves to die…”

“You drank from The Well, did you not? What you may have wanted for the world no longer mattered if it did not coincide with her vision for the future.” He said as a matter of factly, through kissing her cheek gently with cool lips.

Lavellan could feel her heart flutter at this touch, and she grasped harder on his arm with her real arm. She had wondered what her ‘bond’ to the Well would have meant in terms of her existence - was there a path she had to tread in order to keep her end of the bargain that was made? Ancient beings were sticklers for details, and yet they were deceptive with those details, it was always a game, a chase or something that ended with less favour than before. There had not been any ‘feeling’ pulling her away from certain thoughts, so she had continued on her path; however now it was clear she had gone down the wrong fork. Her heart continued to race, as did the burning across her chest, sharp and splinted like broken glass. It spread up her neck and threatened agony around her mind.

“What is happening….” Nevas begged of the Well as she clutched tighter still at Solas’s arm, he didn’t flinch away from pressure she held, if anything it only made him more composed.

The Well whispered for a moment only one voice answered, one that sought authority and respect from anyone who heard it, “Mythal has passed Judgement upon Honor; found it’s actions corrupt and not apart of her Will. A spirit’s course is rarely swayed, it would have kept upon that road unless it was stopped.”

Nevas gasped, almost whimpered, “But, It was my action’s, not the spirits!”

How could Solas let something like this happen to a spirit?

“Mythal Judges The People, not those who are but a Shadow of what was. The Elves deserve peace and a chance for a proper life, you and that broken spirit have attempted to stop that from coming to pass, and while Mythal could decide your fate, she has chosen to spare your punishment for another.” Spoke the Well Again.

Lavellan’s stone hand reached upto her head, cradling it has her eyes shut tightly to hold back her pained tears as she wept. Everything hurt, her body, her mind and what she even thought to be her soul all cried out in anguish. She didn’t feel whole, a cold and empty shell; the shattered spirit turned on her, feeling as though her very being was being torn from the inside by everything she thought was right. The lashes of the past blinded her with every stab of pain, each reminder bringing to life her ‘misdeeds’ to Mythal.

“Irabelas ma Vhenan.” Solas spoke as a means to soften her pain. It did for a moment, her breathing hitched as raw emotion beat against her head, sending a tingle like feathers breathing down her sides across her chest. Heat erupted from her heart as her ears started to burn and cheeks flushed, but it was a lie, it was always a lie. Her fingers tightened their hold once again, but this time her fingers dug against the furs of his shoulders and arm, her nails threatening penetration the longer she held. Solas mistook this for need; need for closeness and for him, and moved his arm to wrap around her waist to pull her closer to him. Her face would have been buried in the dark furs had his other hand not pulled her chin upwards. He looked over her, a pained expression pulling at his eyes as he saw the remnants of tears down her cheeks and bloodshot eyes, the red misshapen blotches around her face from crying made him bit at his lip briefly; he had not seen the anger in her eyes. Instead, he cradled her cheek fondly before leaning in, kissing her.

Nevas felt her body shiver from the sudden kiss, her lips were dry and cracked, making them burn as she returned the kiss, bewildering herself. For her all anger towards this Elf, for all the curses she had practiced for this moment, she would always fall to such softness. And in her moment of weakness and pain, Nevas felt herself give in. So many years of sorrow, of doubt; along with her old title, she wanted to be given rest. The world had taken so much from her, a lost elf clung to the only thing that could breath life back into her and she greedily kissed him back. There was a spark, a light that brightly shone those memories from the past of their tender embraces. Haven being their first, then the way he had held her from the news of her clan’s decimation; he had turned into her everything then. Tears watered their cheeks and jaws, Nevas was fighting off the bitterness of their last kisses, while Solas pressed closer towards her.

There was a brush of magic that washed over her being, the sign that this moment would soon be over, it only made the warrior throw her arms around The Dread Wolf to stop him from leaving...again. No, she needed something to fill the void that now consumed her soul! Nothing mattered anymore, and in her mind she cried out against the looming emptiness that threatened to consume her. Nevas wanted to move closer, perhaps it was the odd way she was kneeling against the ground that left her unable to move, but it didn’t matter, her hold around his shoulders wasn’t going to let him leave.

“This will be the last time I leave you.” It was strange hearing him speak after moments of silence, and though the words were spoken against her lips, it took a moment for them to sink in. He sounded sombre, almost choked to hold back his tears, but why?

A wave of panic hit Nevas square in the face, no, he couldn’t leave her again! In an effort to pull away from him, she was unable to move her legs at all, having lost all feeling to her toes. As much as she didn’t wish to open her eyes to the world, Nevas forced them open with a hard stare to follow. She was met with the ethereal gray eyes of Fen’Harel, glowing with the magic of a spell.

“Solas?” She questioned him with fear clear in her tone. He didn’t respond, only pulling away as her arms fell from his shoulders. There was as sting of pain as her knuckles hit something hard against her legs, and her eyes followed to see what they may have hit. They widened.

“No……” Nevas could not contain her shock, nor the outrage that followed once she realised the spell he had been casting during their kiss. The anguished howl that pierced the silence was enough to fill anyone with Dread.

From the hips down she was stone, and unlike the Qunari forces that were statues in an instant, magic crept painfully slow up her body, like a plague.

[elfrootaddict]

Fic Writer Questions

Thank you so much for the tag @in-arlathan 💕 this is definitely the first time I’ve had to think about things like this - this is going to be fun!

I personally don’t know a lot of writing friends on Tumblr (because I’m very new to the world of fic writing - well, writing in general 🤪) but I’ll tag whoever (even though I think most are strictly artists?)

Anywho, those who can/ want to, feel free to answer these and be sure to tag me back - would love to read what you have to say :) @sopml @noire-pandora @tragic-lavellan @felassan @followingthewolf @an-egg-broke-my-heart @rubihowl @faelavellan @lethendralis-paints @himluv @serial-chillr @soulconsumingginge @thedreadblog

~~~

I’ve cropped my answers for the sake of people’s feed 👇

1. Do you enjoy the occasional trope? Do you enjoy them all? Or do you hate tropy stuff with a passion?

Firstly, I hope the tropes I mention are actually tropes (but apologies in advance if I what I ramble on about isn’t officially a trope). But I guess I don’t mind the occasional trope but normally it would be nice to have a story without it - I like surprises and unexpected events. I guess as a teenager I loved your Boy-Meets-Girl tropes a lot, but now I honestly hate them. Predictability in a story, to an extent, is a mood killer for me and I find myself bored. I know it’s hard to expect writers to essentially “reinvent the wheel” when it comes to writing unpredictable and trope-free stories, so I completely understand how some tropes are almost hard to avoid but if a story is solely reliant on tropes then I’m not interested.

2. Which tropes are you favorites? Which ones do you avoid? Have you written any yourself or is there one you really want to write?

Favorite Tropes: I don’t know the “official” name of tropes but I will just describe them as best as I can in no particular order :)

Opposits Attract: From the top of my head I think of Hermione&Ron, Monica&Chandler, Ross&Rachel, Repunzel&Flynn and Bull&Dorian when it comes to this particular trope. I think so many REAL relationships are between two people who are so dissimilar in a lot of ways. That the weaknesses in the one character are the other character’s strength (e.g. one is disciplined and the other isn’t). One relationship I wish happened canonically is Zuko&Katara from Avatar. In saying that, when two characters who are so grossly different get together then that’s something I struggle to wrap my head around as it feels forced and unnatural. But if done right, you know that those two lovers are together because of how REAL their love is for one another despite their differences, and that they aren’t in for what they “get out of it” and how “easy it is” - they’re in it because they love each other so truly and accept all the good, bad and ugly in between.

Star-Crossed/ Lovers in Denial: I guess it goes without saving for me (being in Solavellan hell and all) but having two characters fall in love almost against their better judgement and how they deny their feelings for so long is something I really enjoy. And guess what? All my examples from the top of my head are all Dragon Age ones 😅; Loghain&Rowen, YourWarden&Alistair, Hawke&Fenris and Trevelyn&Cassandra are relationships that blossom without at least one of them looking for it and how it catches them off guard. And when they do finally admit their feelings its a really big, spontaneous and passionate moment. However, I hate it when they deny their feelings for too long - in this case I’m talking about Blackwall’s romance as an example. When I watched Blackwall’s romance, I got really frustrated with his constant “No, I can’t” that it really made me want to scream lol. Oh! Just thought of another one that isn’t a DA related; Elizabeth&DrDarcy :)

The Underestimated: I enjoy seeing a character underestimated and then proving everybody wrong by being the most powerful, strongest and most incredible one in the room while everybodies mouths are agape. But not by turning into the bad guy, but by simply showing the others that they shouldn’t be underestimated. I think of Toph, Aang and Solas in this regard. And even better, is when the characters don’t need to “show off” their power. I loved how with Toph she was the most powerful Earth Bender but was the smallest and youngest person in the room, and everybody she met underestimated her! And with Aang being you know... the most powerful person in their world and is merely a child. Then of course, we all know Solas’s story: creating the Veil, that Mind Blast in Trespasser, petrifying people to stone, killing dwarves in their sleep and having his Dread Wolf form living in the Fade... yeah. Total sucker for underestimated and not-your-typical powerful character.

Tropes I Avoid: Again, don’t know the “official” names and from the top of my head :)

The Dumb Blonde: Whenever I see a superficial, stupid blonde woman I get really mad. I actually take it personally as I was called a “dumb blonde” myself growing up for simply having blonde hair. I’m sure you’ve heard of “blondes have more fun, but brunettes remember it the next day” joke and omg... it Really. Grinds. My. Gears.

The Mirror in a Horror: I almost never watch horrors, but whenever I see anyone stare into a mirror, open the cabinet and then close it to find somebody suddenly standing behind them, it really makes me roll my eyes back into my head. Look, I still close my eyes because I can’t hand jump scares (even when I know they’re coming) but even still... lol

The Hero Survives: Perhaps an unrealistic expectation, but whenever a story has the blatant knight-in-shining-armor hero, you know from the beginning that they aren’t going to die. That’s why the Red Wedding made me question everything I knew lol. It was totally unexpected! But when you get to the end of a movie and the hero is fighting the bad guy; at first the hero is winning, then the bad guy gets the upper hand and they (the creators) try to fool you into thinking the hero will die (aka the Bad Guy Monolauge) but then suddenly the hero fights harder and wins... ugh... However, I’m not saying the hero must always die, but I like the idea of the hero dying and somehow surviving quite unexpectedly. I think of Ciri from the Witcher: Geralt (and you) totally thought she died but she didn’t! Also, Harry Potter - he died but then also managed to survive!

The Good-Guy to Bad-Guy: I can’t stand the origin of a lot of your “typical” bad guys. This is kind of linked to “The Underestimated” trope I like, but I can’t stand it when they use it as the “explanation” or “excuse” of why the bad guy is the antagonist . I think of Ursula from the Little Mermaid, Hades from Hercules and Maleficent. I think the creators are perhaps trying to get you to sympathize with them (and I do feel sorry for Corypheus, but that’s another post lol), and their origin stories do tug at the heart strings, I just get frustrated with characters who choose to take the “evil” route when they are underestimated, treated poorly or bullied. I guess because in reality there are so many different ways one can deal with being treated poorly other than being a horrible person but yeah... Simultaneously however, what’s the solution? Where should antagonist’s come from? What should their origin story be? And honestly, I don’t actually have a solution XD I guess it depends on the origin story and what caused them to “turn bad” for it not to bother me so much. Because usually you can smell the antagonist a mile away when stories do this.

“American” High Schools: What I mean by this, is that I’m sick and tired of the main characters in high school movies or shows falling into the “jock”, “nerd”, “cheerleader”, “geek”, “perve”, “virgin” or “bullied” category. Especially - ESPECIALLY - the Jock & Cheerleader teasing the protagonist and the protagonist usually being in love with the Jock’s Cheerleader Girlfriend, and then his best friend being the flamboyant, funny one... just no. NO MORE. As soon as I see any TV show or movie use this trope as it’s main “hook” I avoid it like the plague. I understand that perhaps there are a lot of high schools where people perhaps do “fit” into one of these categories but I’m sorry, people are far more complex than that and they are more than just being “the jock” or the “cheerleader” or the “geek”. And of course what goes with all of that is the typical choice of dress, talk and attitude associated with falling into those categories: your “jock” with his jacket, the “cheerleader” with her short skirt, the “geek” whose awkward and wears glasses. Just... enough. That’s enough.

Rain at a Funeral: I don’t think I need to elaborate on this lol

Writing Tropes: I haven’t actually thought about writing anything other than my Halla & Wolf series right now but perhaps if I had to think of a trope I wouldn’t mind tackling, it would be a Lovers in Denial one. I want to write characters that really hate each other in the beginning but are forced to interact and overcome certain obstacles with the help of the other, and then they see other sides to that character they weren’t expecting to see and then they fall in love almost begrudgingly. But then their love is so passionate and real that you can feel how true it is in your bones because of how they got there. Just like if Zuko&Katara got together. Their story and how I think should have ended would be a great source of inspiration for me should I write something like that.

3. Do you have different preferences for reading than you have for writing? If so, is there a reason for it?

I’m currently reading through the DA books in chronological order (I’m currently on Last Flight) and the last time I read anything prior to that was all of Meg Cabot’s books - which was like, 10 years ago. But I think that the type of books I enjoy reading are fantasy ones and after the Little Women movie, I really want to read the book now. And I also loved reading Jane Auston’s books. But it’s hard to answer this one because I haven’t written anything other than my Halla & Wolf series and the last time I did attempt at writing my own stories was when I was like... 12? Hehe

~~~

Phew! I did NOT expect this to get so long but who knew? I certainly didn’t know I had so much to say 😅 thanks for reading all my babble if you managed to get through all of it lol this was certainty fun to do!

[orodrethsgeek]

So as you may have noticed, I’ve fallen a bit in love with my latest Hawke, Kellan, and the relationship he has with Orsino. As usual, @robotslenderman came up with a great idea to solve a problem I wasn’t even fully aware I had: namely, that in both my canon DA:2 playthrough and our Solas Stays! Sableverse AU, Kellan Hawke does not exist. (My DA:2 canon is Aidan Hawke; Sableverse DA:2 canon is robotslenderman’s Marian Hawke.)

Says Dusty: would it be possible for him to exist as another character?

And thus, DA:2 Companion!Kellan was born. Backstory, recruitment mission, companion quests, and fate following endgame below the cut.

Backstory:

Kellan was born in 9:06 Dragon, not long after his mother, Lady Ambrei Venturi, scandalized the nobility of Kirkwall by marrying a penniless artist from Markham named Anthony Whalen. The nobles received a second shock when Lady Ambrei’s father, Lord Venturi, upheld his daughter’s unconventional marriage and confirmed her and her future children as heirs to the Venturi name, title, and fortune (none more so than the other Venturis themselves, who expected Ambrei to be disinherited for the disgrace). A plethora of wild rumors soon filled Kirkwall, likely started by jealous relatives–Lady Ambrei and her commoner husband had never been legally married; Anthony Whalen was the bastard, half-human son of an elven prostitute; one or both of them were apostates hiding in plain sight. None of these rumors were ever substantiated, and for a while the young family was blissfully happy, even while lesser branches of the Venturis continued to scheme.

In 9:18 Dragon, Lady Ambrei gave birth to a second son, this one named Ethan. Two years later, tragedy struck. Lady Venturi disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Her body was later found, though her killer never was–but many looked to her uncle Alester, who began at once to petition the Viscount for the deed to the Venturi estate, along with various other holdings. He argued that his niece’s commoner paramour had neither a title nor any true claim to the Venturi name, and that her eldest child, a boy of fourteen, was too young to take up the role and privileges of Lord Venturi. He might well have won his suit, save for two apparent strokes of luck. The first was that Alester was himself found dead in his home late that year, assassinated by an Antivan Crow. (His children accused young Kellan Venturi of taking out the contract on his life, but few put any weight in the charge. Kellan was, as their father had himself argued, little more than a boy at the time.)

The second stroke of luck was that in 9:21 Dragon, Viscount Perrin Threnhold contended with the templar order for control of Kirkwall, and lost. The old Viscount was deposed and arrested, and the new Knight-Commander anointed a new ruler of the city: Marlowe Dumar, a previously minor nobleman who had himself married a commoner, and to whom Kellan could claim a distant relationship through his maternal grandmother. Though a naturally cautious and conciliatory man, Viscount Dumar put very little store by the inherent superiority of the nobility, or by rumors of the illegitimacy of Lady Ambrei’s marriage. Kellan petitioned for his rights to the estate, the family fortune, and the title of Lord Venturi to be upheld, and Viscount Dumar ruled in his favor. The one stipulation he made concerned the Venturi fortune. In deference of Kellan’s age, control of the family’s finances would be held in trust by his father, until Kellan reached his majority.

Despite this victory, things were not all well within the Venturi estate. Thrown into a deep depression by his wife’s death, Anthony showed no signs of recovering a year later. For the most part he kept himself locked in his bedroom, clinging to the last of Ambrei’s possessions and only occasionally remembering to take an interest in his sons or duties. Not long after Kellan won his case with the Viscount, he came home to find his father chatting animatedly to a portrait of his mother, apparently convinced it was truly her. Unsure of how to help his father but certain the slightest sign of weakness would set his relatives back on the warpath, the young Lord Venturi kept Anthony’s condition a closely guarded secret. Nor did he make any attempt to end the trusteeship of Venturi finances early, even when his father began making increasingly reckless monetary decisions. Instead, he turned to dabbling in various crimes to keep Venturi coffers full (smuggling, blackmail, and poison-making were just a few of Kellan’s favored exploits–always under various aliases, to avoid being traced back to him).

The one bright spot in the storm of tragedy and intrigue was Ethan. Kellan loved his brother fiercely, and was determined to raise him as normally as possible. He did his best to keep Ethan ignorant of his shadier enterprises and inclinations, though as Ethan grew older he did pick up on more than a few things Kellan would have preferred to keep him in the dark about. Ethan also proved to be a comfort to his father; something about the boy’s presence seemed to wake him from his fantasy world into something closer than reality.

In 9:24 Dragon, Kellan turned eighteen and finally assumed full control of the family fortune–which had, despite his best efforts, dwindled under his father’s dubious care. He told himself that was reason enough why he couldn’t give up his criminal pursuits, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. But it was also true that he enjoyed the thrill of a scheme well-done. So Lord Kellen Venturi kept his hand in the criminal game, and an eye out for any other advantage that came his way. He’d learned from a young age that it took power and guile and a certain amount of ruthlessness to survive, and he intended to do much more than that.

Recruitment:

In 9:31 Dragon, the Hawke siblings are hired to steal from a Venturi-owned warehouse and deliver the goods to someone named Cesario in a Lowtown safe-house. They’re promised a substantial reward if they prove successful, and the chance for future partnership opportunities. When they arrive at the warehouse itself, they find it not conventionally guarded at all–though there are a number of magical traps that either Hawke (if a mage) or Bethany must deactivate to proceed.

At the Lowtown safe-house, the Hawke siblings are eventually greeted by Kellan, who congratulates them on a job well-done and reveals that he’s the one who hired them to steal from one of his legitimate warehouses. He’s heard rumors about a Ferelden apostate with a solid reputation in Kirkwall’s criminal underworld, but he wanted to get the measure of them himself.

Regardless of whether Hawke or their sibling is the mage, Kellan then reveals this quest was essentially their audition, and they’ve passed. He’s looking for an apostate to tutor his brother Ethan, whose magic has recently manifested. If mage!Hawke/Bethany agrees, Kellan will become a recurring companion. He’ll also have a follow-up cutscene where he mentions that he’s heard Hawke is trying to get in on Bartrand’s Deep Roads expedition and that he’d be willing to help fund Hawke’s contribution for a share of the profits. He expresses some hesitation about going himself, but he’ll agree if pressed.

Rough Outline of Companion Quests:

Between Act I and Act II:

Regardless of whether or not Kellan is brought on the Deep Roads expedition, when Hawke returns at the end of Act I, it will be to find that Ethan’s magic was discovered and he’s been taken to the Circle. Kellan handles this badly, and there’s a brief cutscene in which Hawke will have the chance to talk with him about it. Depending on the level of friendship/rivalry he and Hawke have developed, he may confide that this isn’t over and that he won’t leave his brother in the Gallows forever. (In general, friendly Hawkes will be given more of a window into Kellan’s state of mind/plans; a rival Hawke will be kept in the dark.)

Act II:

Though he’s been able to establish a written correspondence with his brother during the three year time skip, he hasn’t yet been able to see him face-to-face. He’s finally gotten the Grand Cleric’s word that if he performs a laundry list of tasks for her/the Chantry, she’ll arrange for Kellan and Ethan to be able to meet. He asks Hawke for help with completing the tasks. (One of them possibly involves retrieving a shipment of stolen lyrium from a Darktown gang.) If Hawke agrees and the tasks are successfully completed, Kellan gets to visit his brother. Depending on how close he and Hawke are, he might invite Hawke to come meet Ethan with him, as well.

Following the completion of his personal quest, Kellan will offer to give Hawke what help he can in navigating the politics of the ruling class in Kirkwall.

If Kellan is brought into the Fade during Feynriel’s Act II quest, he might betray Hawke for the desire demon, who promises to heal his father’s broken mind and return Ethan to him. Afterwards, high friendship Hawkes will learn about Anthony’s breakdown following his wife’s death. Kellan will admit he’s worried about his father, who has been getting worse since Ethan was taken away. Hawkes with a high enough friendship have the opportunity to learn about this in a later cutscene if Kellan is not brought to the Fade/doesn’t betray Hawke.

Through ambient dialogue throughout Act II, it’s revealed that Kellan has also struck up a correspondence with the First Enchanter, who took a particular interest in Ethan’s progress as an apprentice because of how often Kellan attempted to get in touch with him when he was first taken to the Circle. As Act II progresses Kellan makes references to sending Ethan care packages, and also to covertly figuring out the First Enchanter’s favorite wine/treats/etc to send him gifts as well.

Between Act II and Act III:

Following the deaths of the Dumars, Kirkwall entered a period of de facto martial law, with Meredith all but seizing control of the city and refusing to allow a new Viscount to be appointed. Kellan, who had been reasonably close to his distant cousins, considered the position his by rights–Viscount is a hereditary title, and Kellan can trace his genealogy back to a Dumar great-grandmother. He will eventually ask Hawke to support his bid for the position, inviting them to attend a small gathering of nobles and show that he has the new Champion of Kirkwall’s support to shore up less certain nobles.

Orsino is also attending this party; high friendship Hawkes will have a chance to comment on how it seems Kellan has feelings for him. Kellan will initially deny it, but later admit that they’re right. Privately, he’ll confess to feeling conflicted about the whole situation; it’s not a politically smart move to get entangled with such a high profile mage when he’s aiming to become Viscount. As the conversation progresses, though, Kellan will resolve to keep pressing forward regardless, and to use his political power to make things better for Kirkwall mages. He won’t agree to confess his feelings to Orsino, however, even if Hawke presses him on it; he’ll say he wouldn’t want Orsino to think his support of the mage cause is contingent on Orsino sleeping with him. He’s seen too many templars take advantages of a mage’s limited ability to say no in recent years and he won’t join their number.

This prompts an optional subquest, where Hawke can choose to let Orsino know about Kellan’s feelings, so that it’s at least up to Orsino whether to pursue any sort of relationship or not. Orsino will be surprised, but admit that he’s occasionally thought Kellan’s feelings went a bit deeper than mere professional partnership. He won’t divulge to Hawke whether he shares Kellan’s feelings, but he will choose to seek Kellan out at the end of the cutscene. Kellan will later accuse Hawke of meddling, but admit that things turned out for the best.

Act III:

Kellan asks Hawke to help him compile evidence of the Chantry’s many misdeeds in Kirkwall over the last several years. He plans to use the evidence to appeal to the Divine to relieve the Gallows mages and restore Kirkwall’s civil governance. He will also mention contingency plans for getting Ethan out of the Gallows, though he doesn’t get into specifics even with high friendship Hawkes. Ambient dialogue will reveal how stressed he is over Ethan and Orsino in particular being in danger, but also his concern for the other mages in the Gallows as well. It’s clear that he’s adopted Orsino’s people as his own.

Anthony’s mental health finally takes its final plunge in Act III, and he ends up taking his life. Kellan is absolutely beside himself, blaming everyone from his long-dead great-uncle (for killing his mother and causing his father’s initial depression), to the templars who took Ethan away, and, privately, himself, for not being able to do more, for not watching him more closely. He swears that someone will pay for this and asks for Hawke’s help; regardless of Hawke’s response, he plans to go through with something ill-thought-out and drastic. Whatever Hawke’s response, Sebastian will approach them for help restraining Kellan and appealing to his better nature. If Hawke agrees, Sebastian lets them in on his plan; if not, he carries it out himself. Again, regardless, Kellan’s plans of revenge stop short when either Hawke and Sebastian or just Sebastian bring Orsino or Ethan to talk him out of it. (A Hawke who has agreed to help Sebastian will get to choose whether they should bring Orsino or Ethan; Sebastian acting alone will choose Orsino because he doesn’t think Ethan should have to see his brother this close to losing it.) Whichever one is chosen, Kellan will finally let himself be talked out of his plan.

Endgame:

During The Last Straw/Chantry boom cutscene, Kellan will protest if Hawke chooses to kill Anders. If Hawke persists regardless, Anders will tell Kellan it’s alright and ask him to focus on helping the Circle mages from this point on. Kellan will stand down, but will tell Hawke they made a mistake.

If Hawke chooses to side with the mages, Kellan will either suggest that they use Isabela’s knowledge of ships to quickly evacuate the Circle mages from the Gallows (if Isabela returned during the Act II Qunari crisis), or that they utilize the secret passage into the Gallows from Darktown to beat the templars back, bar the tower from within, and evacuate as many mages as possible through the tunnels. He, Orsino, and Ethan will all survive in a pro-mage scenario.

Kellan cannot be convinced to side with the templars, regardless of his friendship/rivalry status to Hawke. He will always choose to make a last stand with Orsino and the mages, giving Ethan and the other apprentices a chance to escape. He and Orsino will perish together in a pro-templar scenario.

DA:I:

If Kellan and Orsino survive the events of Dragon Age:2, they will appear in Skyhold once the next Divine has been chosen, present her with evidence of the Chantry’s and templars’ myriad crimes in Kirkwall, and demand reparations. They later settle in Wycome with their 30+ adopted mage babies, including Ethan.

And that’s pretty much a wrap! Feel free to also ask questions about Companion!Kellan if you have any :) also if you’ve read this whole thing, congrats and thank you XD

[truthfulstars]

Mylvera Roslyn Thennis

[Image Description: a half-elf woman with short, curly red hair, freckles, and green eyes. She is smirking slightly at the viewer, with some curls in her face]

Age: 25

Race: half-high elf

Height: 5’7

Occupation: alchemist and adventurer

Source

About

Mylvera ‘Vera’ Roslyn Thennis (pronounced Then-nish with emphasis on the Th) was born to a human ranger/farmer— Rowan Thennis— and an elven Ex-Paladin of Corellon— Aurae Dienna. After serving The Protector for over 200 years, she fell in love with Rowan when she helped him fight off an attack by the Drow, the two writing to each other for over a year before she prayed to Corellon to ask if she could leave his order until her husband had died. Granted this wish, she lived with him on his farm, eventually having their first— and only child— three years after their marriage. Mylvera was raised on stories of both the human and elven pantheons, her nursery and childhood bedroom painted with pastoral scenes of both versions of paradise. From the time she could speak and walk, Vera retold these stories and acted them out with her toy bow and wooden sword, defeating Lolth and Mask for the glory of Lathander and Corellon.

When she was ten years old, Vera’s world was turned upside down when the Drow attacked Rothé Valley in earnest, slaughtering everyone who tried to resist them as they enslaved the farming village. Although Aurae and Rowan tried to protect their daughter, the family was taken away. As a high elven woman who still wore the holy symbol of Corellon, Aurae was sacrificed to Lolth, her husband easily cut down in front of their daughter as he tried to protect his wife, and the child was dragged away into the Underdark.

Sold to House Mizzrym— 6th House of Menzoberranzan— she bonded with a 15 year old human from Cormyr, by the name of Cassius. Separated from his sister and mother, he took the frightened Vera under his wing, helping her keep her spirits up and teaching her about the Purple Dragons of his land. A faithful follower of Lathander, he promised her that they would see the sun again, no matter what the Drow did. However, he never got to see that day, as he was killed when Vera was 12 years old.

By the time she turned 15, Vera became a personal handmaiden to Matron Mother Mizzrym. She was the youngest woman ever given the honor, along with a powerful Arcane Mark of their house crest on the back of each hand, that would not fade until her death. Vera immersed herself in learning how to dress and prepare the Matron Mother for the day, every aspect of her life scheduled away. As the personal handmaiden to the Matron Mother, she quickly grew the ire of her son— Valok Mizzrym, whose ability as a wizard was outshone by his frustration and Napoleon complex. He made it his goal to ruin her, no matter what it took.

At twenty years old, ten years after the death of her family, Valok Mizzrym was sent to the surface to prove his worth by doing some reconnaissance in order to help find slaves that could be sold in Menzoberranzan. As a lure and also someone the Matron Mother trusted, Mylvera was sent with him, just days before the backup would arrive. However, her fear of the house’s wrath was overshadowed when she was told to lure away a young girl from her home as a test. When Vera refused to bring a child into the life she was forced into, Valok moved to strike her down, but she was faster— using the dagger coated with paralytic toxins she was supposed to use on his victims, she slit Valok’s throat. Arm shattered by his shortsword and covered in his blood, she cut his silk shirt off and fashioned it into a sling, running away with what money he had on him and the clothes on her back.

She made her way to Neverwinter, where she hid among the beggars and refugees while terrified and wondering where to go. As she sat in a tavern, back against the wall and facing the door, the elven bard began to play a familiar song— an old folk song her uncle had sung years before. Reminded of the family she had left in Waterdeep, she traveled south until she found the Apothecary her uncle Leon Thennis owned with his wife, collapsing into his arms after years of struggling to survive.

Because of the arcane mark on her hands, Mylvera does not stay in the attic-turned-apartment above her family’s shop and flat for more than a month at a time. She knows that she is one scrying spell away from being found, and constantly keeps running— doing odd jobs all over Faerûn to keep from staying in one place for too long. She always returns home with money and some stories, but creating roots or starting a family is out of the question.

Facts

Vera is a Druid-Rogue multiclass. At the moment, there are plans to add a couple levels of cleric (Corellon) in the future, but I want those sweet sweet circle of land [Underdark] spells.

Vera feels very nervous around Drow. It’s a combination of the fact that House Mizzrym could find her at any time to drag her back to Menzoberranzan and the things she saw as a slave— although her mother tried to teach her it is the actions that make a person evil, not their race, her own experiences have overshadowed the childhood lessons.

Because of the trauma she faced in the Underdark, Vera has Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and has four alters— Naneth, who acts as a mother figure and protects her; Cormyr, who is a fugue state like personality that blocks out pain; Avuna, who is less withdrawn and stands up for herself; and Hinya, who is the part of her who acts as a ‘good slave’ should. Mylvera is unaware of the personalities except for Naneth, who she has auditory hallucinations of at some points. She believes that she is the spirit of her mother guiding her, and does not realize she is actually a part of herself.

Vera is missing the ring finger on both hands at the first knuckle. On her left, the cut is clean but the veins have turned black and hardened from what appears to be a poison. On the right, it is a jagged cut that seems half-assed, and there is no other damage. Because of this and the Arcane Mark, is glowing slightly red when scried on, she wears leather fingerless gloves at all times.

Vera speaks Elvish, Undercommon, Common, and Dwarvish. After fighting a lot of Yuan-ti, she’s also beginning to think about learning Draconic or Abyssal because fuck you sneople (snake people).

Vera is vaguely Aromantic and/or Asexual. This is partly from a lack of want to be married or settle down— as she doesn’t want to create a family she can’t protect— but even before that she never had dreams of marrying anyone or having kids of her own.

Even though she does not want kids of her own, Mylvera is very protective of children in general. Her own childhood was taken from her in such a violent way that she can’t stand to see children put in any type of danger. To her, even though she will probably never get over what happened to her or her parents, she can at least make sure no one else has to be hurt the same way.

Stats

Strength: 11— +0 modifier and saves

Dexterity: 19— +4 modifier and saves

Constitution: 13— +1 modifier and saves

Intelligence: 16—+3 to modifier and +7 to saves

Wisdom: 18— +4 modifier and +8 saves

Charisma: 15—+2 modifier and saves