#muse: ellana

[savingthrcw]

@solstice-muse-collective liked this for Ellana x Lysander

She had given a speech. A well received speech. She, Ellana Lavellan, former nightmare of her clan, had managed to come up with encouraging spontaneous words to say to the people of Skyhold - after recovering from the worst part of her near death from hypothermia, which she had caused by attempting to sacrifice herself. Frankly, Ellana couldn't recognize herself in any of it, but it was working and so she had to keep going that way.

But now she was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and had to sit down on her way up the stairs to catch her breath, hoping none of her advisors would walk by then and worry. Or worse, scold her for not resting enough.

[savingthrcw]

The poor woman looked so relieved, and it truly didn't help Ellana in her attempt to squash her strong emotions. She hadn't been part of a slaughter, she hadn't been in a Circle, but she knew what it was like to be hunted, she had the tattoo burned on her face as a reminder of it. And being a mage hadn't been a point in her favor, if not for her aunt coming to save her at the last moment, to take her home, for all she knew Tranquility would have come next.

But Eloise did not have such protection, there had been no last second rescue for her. "Just Ellana, no ma'am, no Inquisitor," she reminded her softly, in the same patient tone that sometimes came when Cullen was in pain, or when Leliana felt lost. Truly, in moments like those, she knew she had the same responsibility as her aunt to make people feel like they belonged, like they were safe.

"I understand... a little, what it's like to be hated. I had a... difficult... upbringing and I refuse to have my Vallaslin, my tattoo. This is no decoration chosen by me," she pointed at the tattoo, "City men branded me in a moment of... enthusiasm against elves and mages alike. I made it look more traditional later. It's obviously not the same as whar you told me, but in a smaller capacity it reminds me every day that hate can bring people to do the unthinkable. Which is why I want Skyhold to be different. That sort of prejudice will not be tolerated here. As long as no one is being endangered, everyone is free to stay. Elf, mage, qunari... believer in Andraste or not. Cullen is in charge of the Templars and we never had any issue, but if anyone ever misstep, either tell me or him, and it will be taken care of."

Eloise looked to her hands. They were cold chapped and still red, despite how she had been holding the cup. Retelling the events that brought her here had been difficult. The sound that had left her lungs when she witnessed her best friend in the circle being cut down, an unsuspecting victim. They hadn't even made it past the front gates of the tower when she was ripped from Malcolm's arms. But he fought with all that he had, freed her from harm, only to be struck down in front of her. That was the first time she had ever thought to use techniques long deemed taboo. But her heart was stolen from her chest that day. The only thing she had to remember him by was the ring on a chain around her neck.

Eloise was so lost in thought, that when the Inquisitor spoke, it startled her slightly. Blue eyes flickered up, finding her features as she began to explain what would happen should she stay. A soft breath leaves her lungs, thankful to hear that she wasn't going to be forced to do anything. It was comforting knowing all this information. Quietly, the girl found her small satchel from the ground and pulled out the small glass bottle that was filled with her essence within. Setting it delicately on the table between them, Eloise nodded her head in agreement. "This plan works, ma'am." Her voice is softer as she slides it over and then sits up a little more straight.

"As I've said...I'll go anywhere, do whatever it is you require. Should you want me in your forwards camps, that's where I will go. If it is here you wish of me to make potions and tend to the wounded, I can." She pulls the blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, nodding her head slightly in thanks once more. "Thank you, Inquisitor...I know it sounds cliche but...this is a gift you're giving me, and I thank you. Very much."

[stellsaria]

@starwrittenfates sent in ❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜ (from Ellana to Adam)

Adam shot his prize winning grin at her thanks. "But of course, I could never let someone so attractive take a hit if I can help it. Even more so for our valiant leader." He said with a wink, it seemed he was as shameless a flirt as ever.

[denofgluttonousmuses]

Ellana looked down at her stomach in mild bewilderment and gently ran her slender fingers over it.

"Is that really my belly? .... - whispered the elves quietly, pressing her finger slightly into the soft flesh.

It hadn't taken Leliana two weeks to realize that Lavellan was a predator, and the elven' figure had already changed. The short mage - girl, thanks to regular and plentiful meals, including preys, had already grown a few centimeters, her breasts had become more human-like than elven, and her hips had become thicker and wider. But it was her waist that had changed the most.

The flat, lightly muscled belly of the dalish nomad has disappeared. Now Ellana carried a huge, barrel-sized gut, in which her contents were constantly bubbling-fresh bread, meat, fish, fruits and servants. And it was to her that Lavellan could not get used - not to an increased height, not to a more maternal figure, but to a huge belly.

"They are fed me like a nag for a roast... Ellana didn't notice how she licked her lips at the thought of the grilled nag. - Okay, that's enough. It's time to finally go to this unfortunate meeting in Orlais. While I can still walk on my own...."

Ellana did not know yet that she would always be able to move on her own, no matter how many tons she would start to weigh.

[starzfield]

Three new muses !

(Some are still a bit of a WIP)

ANGEL

ELF

WITCH

[fadedreamed]

TAG DUMP — ELLANA.

[adeadlysong]

Tahirah's eyes widened at the mention of being a Rift Mage.

"Rift mage? So...you do rift magic with the Fade...considering all the rifts that keep opening up, that must be very advantageous for you!" She smiled, clapping her hands together briefly. Tahirah could imagine it now - a bunch of rifts open, Ellana just sapping magic fromt hem and immediately exploding her enemies with the energy of it all...was that how it was supposed to work?

At least, that was what it looked like in Tahirah's head. In reality, it was probably much different than she expected.

She nodded in understanding about the idea of picking up more abilities in case of enemies - and allies. "That makes sense, I suppose..."

Upon being asked about how she was doing, Tahirah's eyes brightened. "Ah, I've been doing well. There have been a few things in Melodia I had to briefly attend to, but here I am back again~! Andddd," A chuckle left her, "I didn't forget what I promised to do last time! I believe I owe you an introduction...." She glanced to her right. "Godfather? I think it's safe to reveal yourself."

There was nothing in the space beside her, but then light seemed to flicker on the spot. Black feathers seemed to appear, drifting in the air, before they vanished - replaced by a man who wore dark clothing - fitted tunic and trousers with a dark brown cloak and boots. HIs blond hair was combed back a little bit, eyes meeting Ellana's own before they glanced at Tahirah quietly.

"Inquisitor, meet my godfather!" Tahirah beamed between Ellana and her godfather. "It's about time I got you two to see each other. Could be a fun collaboration."

"Rafaele Baptiste." He introduced himself, offering a light bow to Ellana. "Tahriah told me much about you, Inquisitor - all good things, I promise. She also filled me in on what's going on at present - and I hope I can be of assistance in some form."

@adeadlysong continued from HERE!

She had been speaking out loud to herself, not meaning for it to come off as something she didn't know. After all, she was a mage. Magic was her speciality. It was practically in her veins and bones, in a manner of speaking.

"Well...I've recently been learning how to specialize in becoming a Rift Mage. It's far different from what I would do as a healer before. Before it was simple, use some elfroot and ask for help from Spirits of Compassion. But this..." she pauses, chuckling nervously. "As Solas would put it, 'I'm drawing upon the Fade, pulling matter from it to attack and use against my enemies.'"

Ellana rests a hand on her chin, deeply thinking, while looking at the practice dummies. "Figured it would be good for me to pick up and learn since being Inquisitor comes with making not just allies, but enemies too." She needed to learn how to better defend herself and her team.

"How have you been?"

[1800i-dont-write-fanfiction]

(13) the girls are fighting!!!!

"Your lover is a curious creature, Fen’Harel. So... fleeting. Does her fragility excite you?" His laughter was rich with cruel amusement.

Lover? Surely he doesn’t mean-

"Were you aware of her condition? Or has she withheld the truth, anticipating your inevitable betrayal?"

Condition. A vague, insidious thing, dressed in suggestion. Elgar’nan would wield truth like a rusted blade, dull at the edges but jagged enough to tear. What fiction does he spin to unnerve me? I have not felt her touch in years.

Impossible.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"You were always stubborn, Fen’Harel. Unmanageable, even by Mythal’s reckoning," Elgar'nan's voice dripped with an almost paternal disdain.

She was a specter in death, burning through the fabric of my resolve as steadily as she did in life.

"The only reason Mythal joined you was that she knew the monster you would become if left unchecked." My words were steam hissing from a kettle as they escaped. "She thought to temper your brutish ego. Instead, you betrayed her. Murdered her."

"Only the first time, Dread Wolf," he chuckled. "Mythal always knew where true power lay. She saw your weakness and turned to me."

The ache sharpened. His venom ripped through me. "You have lost the right to speak her name," I spat.

“You forget yourself. Mythal may have tolerated you, but even she knew you were a tool to be discarded the moment you outlived your use."

What lingered was not the sting of his mockery but the agony of his certainty. Her name, invoked so casually, so cruelly; benevolence rivaled only by her ambition. Yet it was her voice I heard, then—her need of me. I had believed in her as one believes in the inevitability of the tides. To take form for her was an act born of love; the truth of my devotion woven into my stolen flesh, her mark seared into my face then. She was purpose incarnate, and in serving her, I thought myself justified.

Focus. The thought steadied me, an anchor in the maelstrom of my thoughts. Rook needed time. I would provide it. Elgar’nan’s words could not affect me when the cost of distraction was too great.

“And you twist the truth to suit your arrogance." I scoffed.

“Yet Mythal's ambition led her into my arms." He mused, as though I hadn't spoken at all. "How fitting, then, that history repeats itself."

His subsequent words clawed at my composure while something darker stirred within me, coiled tightly around my temple. It was fury and guilt, or the flicker of fear, threatening to bloom. 

"Your lover is a curious creature, Fen’Harel. So... fleeting. Does her fragility excite you?" His laughter was rich with cruel amusement.

Lover? Surely he doesn’t mean-

Ellana. It could be no other. There could be no other. How often had I convinced myself that leaving her was too an act of love? That my absence was a shield against the pain I would bring her? Perhaps I had only exchanged her safety for my own well-earned torment. Regardless, I had left her to face a world irrevocably broken by my hand.

"Were you aware of her condition? Or has she withheld the truth, anticipating your inevitable betrayal?"

Condition?

"She is none of your concern, Elgar'nan!" Even shackled in the cool air of my prison, I felt my temperature rise. My skin prickled and sweat sheened on my skin. I forced my breath to steady, though the words twisted around me like a vice. Condition. A vague, insidious thing, dressed in suggestion. Elgar’nan would wield truth like a rusted blade, dull at the edges but jagged enough to tear. This is no different.

“I tire of your riddles,” I barked, “Whatever falsehood you weave, whatever poison you sow, it will not take root.”

“Ah, but I need not weave falsehoods when the truth is far more damning." His laughter was soft and cruel. "Tell me, Dread Wolf—did you think she would wait for you in the ruin you left behind? Or did you simply hope never to find out?”

I clenched my jaw. Rook needs time. That is all that matters.

“If there is truth in your words, speak plainly,” I countered, letting him taste the edge of my patience. “Or must you shroud even your victories in riddles, fearing they will crumble beneath scrutiny?”

“Oh, Fen’Harel. You wound me. But very well—if you wish for plain words, I will grant you that mercy.” His voice dipped, thick with triumph. “She carries your bastard.”

Something deep within me recoiled, recoiled and reached. An idea, absurd and cruel, took root in the hollows of my guilt, threading through memories I dared not face—the curve of her back, her expression deep in thought, the light sound of her breathing. Unbidden, risen fragments of a life I could not protect nor claim. 

What fiction does he spin to unnerve me? I have not felt her touch in years. No. Impossible.

My voice came low, quiet, with an edge of something perilously close to disbelief curling at its ends. “You lie.”

“Do I?” Elgar’nan’s grin was woven into the sound of his voice, "She is so pliant, so eager to please. So... devoted," he continued on, "Her loyalty to me knows no bounds. Perhaps that is what compelled you to find comfort in something so small and easily destroyed. No matter. Whatever miserable creature you've sired belongs to me."

That is not possible. She cannot—

I steadied myself, forcing the breath from my lungs in a sharp exhale. "Such a thing cannot exist." I hissed. 

“Then she is truly lost to you,” Elgar'nan laughed, his amusement insidious and suffocating. "You have no claim, Fen'Harel. She serves my will, as all things inevitably must."

A chill seeped into my veins, and I buried my anguish beneath the clarity of purpose that came so naturally. Rook needed Elgar'nan distracted, and that alone anchored me. Yet his taunts lingered in the silence that followed; questions I dared not entertain however impossible they were to dismiss—not because I believed them, but because I could not bear to. The cruelest lies, designed to unmake me, were those seeded with fragments of truth. Yet I would mourn that whatever burden she carried was a weight I could neither share nor lighten.

“If what you claim is true, then you have already sealed your own undoing.” I hissed. I would see to it.

[fenharelsfang]

The Wolf's Heart (4/5)

Previously: The Wolf's Heart (3/5)

“This was a terrible idea!” Ellana shouted against the din of the wind gusting past them. Tears streamed from her eyes, even as she squinted to protect them.

Riding a dragon was absolutely not like riding a hart or halla. It wasn't even comparable to Tevinter's dracolisks, or nuggalopes. The closest would be a griffon, but no one had ridden one in hundreds of years. There was no saddle for the trio to sit on (and, honestly, Morrigan would have never allowed it anyway), so they positioned themselves in the valleys between the ridges of her scales and gripped onto anything solid that they could. 

Felassan sat in the front, of course, whooping and hollering as soon as Morrigan took to the sky. Ellana sat in the middle and Cole sat just behind her. He held onto her tightly in fear, his face buried in her back. His hat had been lost immediately. 

“She wants to eat us,” he cried. She has to remind herself that we're friends!” 

“Cole, please!” 

His insight wasn't making the experience any better.

Up they climbed, Morrigan's wings beating loudly against the sky and in their ears. The closer they flew to the Archon's palace, the worse the situation inside it looked. The walls and ceiling of the building had already crumbled away, the void that was Solas growing with each passing moment. Morrigan diverted her course past it, flying to the far side opposite the throne room.

Landing was about as comfortable as flying. The jolt of it threw Ellana against the ridge she was gripping and knocked the air from her lungs. No doubt she'd be bruised from all the recent trauma to her chest. When Morrigan settled, Ellana reached back to pat a trembling Cole's arm.

“It's okay, we've landed,” she assured him.

Cole peeked an eye open and sweet relief flooded through Ellana when he released his death grip on her. “... I did not like that.”

“That was incredible!” Felassan shouted, beaming back at them. His grin faltered at seeing the state they were in. He flew up with his hair tied, but the two blondes didn't. They looked like wild animals. Sickly wild animals.

Morrigan shifted underneath them and growled in annoyance. Clearly she wanted them off of her. 

Felassan deftly hopped from ridge to ridge until he landed with a feline grace on the ground. Cole could just disappear and reappear wherever he wanted (and he did, Ellana noticed). She, however, gingerly tried to climb down using her hands and feet, only to slip and fall right into Felassan's arms.

“Careful, lethallan ,” he said. “You seem to have a bad habit of falling.”

“I could make a career out of it, really,” she muttered and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Memories of the times she fell out of the Fade, into the Fade, and off the rookery in Skyhold's tower made her cringe. That last instance hadn't been fun for anyone, especially Solas.

Felassan set her down and she ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Morrigan shifted back to her human form and dusted herself off. “Oh, if Alistair could see me now,” she mused, smiling to herself. Becoming a dragon brought swooping to a whole new level.

“Thank you for not eating us,” Cole said, interrupting her reverie. 

Morrigan smirked at him. “That's still undecided.”

Ellana lightly smacked her arm before fixing Cole's hair with the tenderness of a mother. “Don't listen to her. I won't let her eat you.”

“Inquisitor?” 

The four of them turned to see Rook and the Veilguard emerging from behind some rubble. The Crow was pale, which said a lot for someone with bronze skin. He was shocked, they all were, since the last they saw of her she was falling to her death.

“How are you alive?” he asked.

Felassan held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “ Magic .”

Rook's nostrils flared. “Wh– Felassan? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I got better.”

“Please ignore him,” Ellana said, pushing the elf out of the conversation. Felassan snickered behind her. “What's the situation up here?”

“We're fucked, that's what,” Taash said. “That big … ball of … whatever is destroying everything.”

“Plus, we still haven't taken down Elgarn'nan or his archdemon,” Bellara added. “They've been attacking that magical anomaly nonstop, but can't break through.”

“It. Smells. Wrong,” Spite hissed, his glowing pink eyes darting around as if he expected to be snatched up at any moment. ”It wants me to join, but I won’t!”

“That anomaly is Solas,” Ellana clarified.

Emmrich, who looked haggard and struggled to stand, nodded. “I figured as much,” he said, his voice strained. “Those are all spirits, each of them reflecting Solas's emotions, twisted into Despair. It's… too much.” 

Manfred was holding Emmrich aloft and hissed sadly. He felt it, too.

So did Cole, who tried to drown out the noise by planting his palms against his ears.

“We have to stop this,” Davrin said. “I didn't think anything could be worse than the Blight, but this is.” His hand went to Assan's head, stroking it gently. The griffon cooed. “I didn't fight so hard for a future for the griffons only to have it taken away from them by our so-called gods.”

“What the hell happened?” Rook asked, his brown eyes searching Ellana's.

“It's my fault,” she admitted. “I got distracted and underestimated Elgar’nan. Solas thinks I'm dead and he's….struggling.”

“Okayyyy,” Taash said, “then go tell him you're alive so he'll calm down,” They shrugged.

“It's not that easy,” Neve argued. “He's been possessed, and not just by one demon, by hundreds … thousands! That would break anyone's mind.” Her gaze drifted downward, unwilling to look Ellana in the eyes. “I hate to say it, but we have no other option but to destroy him. It’s the only way to set him free.”

Ellana's eyes widened. As she looked around at the other Veilguard members, she could see that they were resigned to the same option. Why was it that, in times of great hardship, leaders immediately resorted to using peace as a justification for violence? Killing the host wasn’t the only way to combat a demon. She wondered what the team thought of Spite, then, and what both Lucanis and Spite thought about this decision. When the demon spoke earlier, no one seemed bothered by it, like Spite was just … part of the crew.

“I hate to throw a wrench in the plan,” Bellara interrupted, “but if Elgar’nan can't breach it, what makes you think we can?”

“We have his dagger,” Rook said, pulling it from its sheath. He ran his fingers along the flat part of the blade. “I can use it to carve a way in.” He looked at Ellana with true sympathy in his eyes. “I can make it quick, I promise.”

Felassan and Cole took up defensive positions. They came to save Solas, not kill him. If that meant they’d have to fight the Veilguard to protect him, then they would. Rook was baffled that Solas could command such loyalty from the people he wronged. He didn’t know the blonde boy, but he was probably also a victim of Solas’s treachery. Morrigan stood off to the side, strangely quiet during the entire exchange.

Ellana held up a hand to calm her friends. “You’re right, Rook,” she began as she stepped up to him. “This isn’t a fairytale. But love … isn’t a fantasy. It’s real . Like magic, it has both the power to heal and the power to harm, depending on the wielder. Long before me, Solas loved Mythal. Maybe she loved him, too, but it was toxic. She loved him the way nobles love their servants: for their usefulness. It may have started out innocently, back when they met in the Fade as spirits. In the end, though, it always came down to what he could do for her . Harding showed me those memories. From what you saw in those murals and what Mythal said to you herself when you met her, can’t you see the power imbalance? He gave up his home for her and changed everything about himself just to be with her. What did she ever do for him? There were multiple times that he tried to set boundaries, bringing up how certain requests from her made him uncomfortable, that what she was asking of him felt wrong. She didn’t listen. Instead, she used his love for her to control him. That was his life, Rook, until she finally crossed a line that he wouldn’t. Then she had the audacity to blame him for their fallout. You don’t treat someone you love that way. You don’t make them change to suit your needs, you embrace who they are and work to grow together. You don’t coerce them to do something they don’t want to do, you respect their boundaries. Mythal turned her love into a whetstone to sharpen Solas into a weapon. The Dread Wolf is cunning and treacherous and prideful. All of that is true, but they were learned behaviors from someone he deeply revered. No one ever showed him a different way.” Ellana hadn’t realized how much she was shaking. It hurt when she watched those memories. He had been such a gentle, sweet spirit until Mythal twisted him against his nature. His reaction to when his spirit of Wisdom friend was summoned against its will made so much sense in retrospect. 

“Until he met you,” Rook said, continuing her thought.

She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled sadly at him. “He seemed so sad and lonely when I first met him. He kept to himself and said little when I tried to engage in conversation with him. It wasn’t until I asked about his experience with the Fade that he truly came alive. After that, I found any excuse I could to listen to his stories. We grew closer the more time we spent together and, through it all, he only ever treated me as an equal. As the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and the Inquisitor, I was a symbol to those around me, not a person, even to my inner circle. My role as leader set me apart from everyone. Looking back on that time, knowing what I know now, I realize he saw himself in me. He never asked to be a leader, either, but his people would be lost without him. ‘Solas’ was lost to the Dread Wolf. He didn’t want me to feel that pain. I was always Ellana to him and, later, vhenan .” She sighed. “He’s a wonderful person. I wish you could have known him when he was in the Inquisition. That’s the closest he was to his true self. You two would’ve been friends, I think.”

She took Rook's free hand in both of hers. “I love him, Rook, like I’ve never loved anyone before. Everyone keeps saying that he needs me, that I made him better, but the truth is I'm the one who needs him. I need him like I need air. He came into my life and changed everything I knew about the world, myself, and love. We are meant to be together. Beyond that, he deserves happiness. He deserves to know that he's worthy of being loved and that it's not too late to choose a different path. He deserves freedom. I deserve it, too, and only he can give it to me.”

She glanced at the dagger in his free hand. “So kill that archdemon and take out Elgar’nan. I’ll take care of Solas. And I promise, if I can’t get through to him, then I will end him myself.”

And I will follow wherever he goes.

Rook could see the conviction in her words and, though he still didn’t think Solas could change, the Inquisitor did deserve the chance to try. It was her happiness on the line, too. He couldn’t deny her that.

“... Alright,” he said, defeated. “I wish you luck.” 

Ellana’s heart lightened and she let out a sob. “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to his own crew. “We’ll need to split up,” he said. “Taash, you, Bellara, Emmrich and Davrin take the archdemon down. Lucanis, Neve, and I will keep Elgar’nan busy while you do so. With our combined efforts, we should be able t- hey!”

The lyrium dagger was suddenly snatched from his hand. Manfred’s pack vibrated at the same time before the idol of Mythal flew out. Morrigan grabbed them both from the air. Only, she wasn’t Morrigan anymore. The woman standing before them was an elf with long, dark hair, white mage robes, and a silverite crown. She was tall and breathtaking, staring down at them with an air of superiority. They all knew her face, in one way or another. Felassan knew her personally. He still bore her vallaslin .

“Mythal,” he breathed.

Ellana felt her chest tighten. Once upon a time, she wore the goddess’s markings, too. She worshipped her. Now her feelings were conflicted. Mythal wasn’t a perfect being and she was the source of all of Solas’s pain. The disappointment she felt was staggering.

“What have you done with Morrigan?” she asked, magic gathering around her ironbark gauntlet. 

“Peace, da’len,” Mythal said. The lyrium idol of her had melded into her, giving her a solid form. Rook spotted the dagger, muscles tensing. “I will return her when I am finished.”

“Finished? Doing what?”

“I WILL HAVE MY RECKONING!” Her voice resounded across the heavens, bringing everyone to their knees. The vehemence in that statement was an ancient cry for vengeance against a terrible betrayal that left a goddess a shell of her former greatness. The mortals before her shuddered under the sheer force of it. Mythal stood in the center of them all, clutching the dagger as her eyes burned white with ire. “I have clawed and crawled my way through the ages to get me to this very moment! Over the centuries I have systematically destroyed every member of the Evanuris, guiding history in the path I desired.” “What are you saying?” Davrin asked through gritted teeth. “That you let the Blight out?”

“No, that was a failure on Solas’s part to destroy the Evanuris’ pets. It did present me with an opportunity, however. The First Blight had already begun when I bound myself to my first vessel. I did not have the power to physically enter the Fade to cut down those traitors and I was too weak to fight their archdemons on my own, but I had intimate knowledge about the Blight. The world needed a way to combat it and I needed the archdemon they called Dumat dead. So, I gave the mortals the means to defeat it.”

“The Joining.”

“Yes. I was the famed Nakiri of the Donarks who suggested drinking the blood of darkspawn to absorb their power and build immunity to their taint. The Order of the Grey Wardens was established and they turned the tide of the war. Dumat fell and my retribution began.”

Davrin’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t the Grey Wardens need the blood of the archdemon to defeat it?”

Mythal chuckled. “It was easy enough to stage a battle against the archdemon, if only to collect drops of its blood. Many Wardens fell in that battle. Through their sacrifice, came victory.  The Blight itself was not destroyed, but the world had what it needed to survive.”

She began to walk through the crowd before her, their rapt attention fueling her ever forward. “Ages passed and I bided my time, passing from vessel to vessel, my power growing. Empires rose and fell, as did the archdemons. There were times history required a nudge. The First Blight had lasted far too long. So, during the Second, I introduced the Grey Wardens to the griffons. They weren’t utilized to their full potential until the Third Blight. It took time for the bond between griffon and rider to form, you see. Each subsequent Blight lasted a mere fraction of the one before it. The Fifth Blight lasted a mere year after I rescued the Hero of Ferelden from Loghain’s betrayal. Of course, June was always the weakest of us, so it’s no surprise to me that his archdemon fell so easily.”

All anyone could do was stare at her as she revealed the secrets of the past, mouths agape. She paused in front of Ellana who now stood up in defiance against her. Mythal smiled.

“There were only two members of the Evanuris remaining, among them Elgar’nan who ran me through with this very dagger. My retribution was nearly complete, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the centuries to pass and those mindless darkspawn to find their master. That, and I could sense the Veil weakening and with it, that prison. As powerful as I was, I was still no match for Elgar’nan’s strength. So, in secret, I woke Solas from his uthenara . I am the reason your paths crossed.” “And so you used him again,” Ellana whispered.

“He made his own choices,” Mythal argued. “Blame me if you must, but I never forced him to make the choices he did and I certainly had no sway on him when he awoke from his slumber. We are both at fault for the state of the world and while I spent what remained of my life trying to make up for our mistakes and save the world, he was sleeping. I knew he’d need to deal with the remaining Evanuris, but I didn’t know he would wish to tear down the Veil. This world is flawed, but it deserves to live. Over the years I have grown to love it and its people. Elvhenan, the Evanuris, it is better that it all fade from memory.” She gripped the dagger. “The fate of this world is not mine to decide any longer. Do what you will with Solas. I have arrived at my moment and I will have the final word. Elgar’nan dies by my hand.”

Ellana and Rook exchanged glances as Mythal strode past them, heading towards the throne room. 

“Your gods exhaust me,” he remarked when she was out of earshot. 

“... Noted,” Ellana said. “Do you think you guys can handle the archdemon?”

“Oh yeah,” Taash said, cracking their knuckles. “We’ve already taken down a bunch of dragons, this one is just a little bigger.”

“Little is an understatement,” Bellara said. “But, yes, we can do it!”

Ellana smiled at her and turned to her friends. “Felassan, Cole, I think you should go with Mythal. She said it herself that she’s not strong enough to defeat Elgar’nan on her own and, right now, he’s invincible. Protect her.”

Felassan nodded. “We will.” She pulled him and Cole into a tight hug. “Stay safe,” she said. “This is almost over.” 

They hugged her in return and when Felassan spoke next his voice was thick with emotion. “Bring him back to us.”

“I will.”

As the two groups headed back towards the throne room, Ellana held Rook back.

“Take some advice from a foolish woman who stands on the precipice of losing the one she loves most in this world,” she said, squeezing his hand. “ Tell her. You will forever regret it if you don’t.”

Rook’s eyes widened. “Wh-What? Tell who what?”

Ellana let out a breathless laugh, her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t think I noticed the stolen glances her way when I was spilling my heart out about Solas? You love her, and you need to tell her before it’s too late. Banal nadas. Ar lath, ma vhenan .”

“What does that mean?”

She smiled. “She’ll know what they mean. Tell her.”

A pat on his arm and she left with the others.

Rook stood there, his cheeks flushed, his heart fluttering. He spotted her across the way, talking to Neve.

“Bellara.” He spoke her name like a prayer. She turned, her warm brown eyes brightening at the sound of his voice and she skipped over to him.

“What is it, Rook?”

“There’s something I need to tell you and I’m … I’m sorry it's taken so long for me to get it out. I was afraid, but I’m not anymore.” He leaned in to whisper the words into her ear. When he drew back, she cupped his face in her hands, her eyes filled with happy tears.

“ Mala lath athim, mir uthenara.”

They kissed and Rook finally understood Ellana’s words. So many things were uncertain in this crazy, dangerous world, but there was one constant that always stood against the test of time.

Love.

[profoundfics]

Tertiary Opinions I/V

Unorthodox Introductions - V: Injurious Activities

Rating: Mature - Canon Typical Violence and Sex

Pairing: Rook Ingellvar x Emmrich Volkarin (Neve Gallus x Lucanis Dellamort | Lace Harding x Taash)

(A03 Chapter Index) | (Tumblr Chapter Index)

-- --

The Rivaini climate was far hotter than Emmrich had been expecting and he fully understood Rook’s grouse on the subject over breakfast. Before him were a number of flora specimens to appraise but after the unexpected encounter with the Antaam, Emmrich had little energy for anything other than taking the well earned break while they waited for their newest recruit. Rook had taken off her breastplate, a thin sheen of sweat glossing her face, leant over a boulder, stretching her back.

Harding was the only one who looked remotely comfortable.

He supposed that the Inquisition’s former lead scout was experienced in dealing with harsh climates on either end of the scale. Not that the glorious weather beating down on them could be called harsh. Just hot. Hotter than Nevarra.

‘Had you ever left Nevarra before you joined us, Professor?’ Harding asked, handing him a waterskin.

He took it gratefully, ignoring the use of his academic title. He’d decided the better way to encourage the team’s acceptance was to allow them all to call him what they felt comfortable with.

‘I’ve rarely left the Necropolis,’ he explained, ‘but I have been to Orlais. That was decades ago, however, and not far over the border. Not enough to notice the difference in any case.’

‘I wouldn’t let an Orlesian hear you say that,’ Harding chuckled.

‘I’ve not been to Orlais,’ Rook mused, turning her head to look at them. ‘Why haven’t we been to Orlais, Harding?’

‘Because Solas had already left by the time we bumped into you,’ said Harding, taking back the waterskien. ‘Besides, Empress Celene was pretty pissed with us on the way out, so best not to go back and poke that dragon.’

‘I know you keep saying you don’t, but you really do know everyone,’ said Rook. ‘The Empress of Orlais,’ she started, holding a finger up, ‘the King and Queen of Ferelden, Magister Pavus, the White Divine, the Inquisitor, Lady Morrigan.’

‘Bar for Ellana, Cassandra and Dorian, I don’t know them, know them,’ countered Harding, ‘and besides I’ve never actually met the Empress, that was all Varric.’

‘Figures,’ said Rook, before she turned her attention to Emmrich. ‘See, she likes to play it down, but Harding had mingled with the high and mighty of Southern Thedas. Closest I’ve got was an arranged betrothal to the fourth son, of the fourth son of the forty-third irgend etwas Baron Van Markham,’ Rook lamented. ‘As a senior necromancer, Emmrich, you must have met some of the great and good of Nevarra? Or at least embalmed them.’

‘Rook,’ he admonished, but his thoughts snagged on the small tidbit of information she had just revealed. Harding’s lack of response was also telling.

‘Ignore her,’ laughed Harding. ‘She likes to tease her friends.’

‘Bit rich coming from Miss ‘anything-you-talk-about-beginning-with-N-makes-you-sound-fancy’,’ Rook bickered back.

Harding shook her head, but there was little doubt as to the fondness the pair felt for each other. Rook had turned her face back to the sun, and drawn one leg up so her knee was close to her chest, holding it in place as she stretched the muscles there.

‘You know, I can’t tell if she actually expects you to answer that or not,’ Harding mused after a moment. ‘Is it normal for members of the Mourn Watch to be interested in who each other embalms? What is embalming?’

Emmrich felt a surge of sympathy for the dwarf. Her eyes were so curious but their last conversation around the practices of the Mourn Watch and the dead had not gone well. Rook was now holding her other leg to her chest, while turning her head away from them both, but he could easily imagine her biting down on her lip as she suppressed laughter.

‘Some Watchers like to gossip about the new inhabitants of the Necropolis,’ Emmrich eventually replied, mustering all the dignity his position afforded him. ‘But it isn’t encouraged. As for embalmment, it is one of the many practices we use to care for our dead.’

Harding gave a nervous chuckle, holding up her hand to indicate she didn’t want to know more but Emmrich’s attention was back on Rook. She was facing the sun again. Tension had clustered around her lips and eyes, her skin paler than it had been moments earlier. Sweat had beaded above her brow.

‘I thought you said you hadn’t been hit,’ Emmrich said, his tone more accusing than he intended, moving towards Rook to examine her more closely.

Rook opened her eyes, and gingerly pushed herself off the boulder. His words had prompted Harding to look concerned then began digging through her pack.

‘I wasn’t,’ she said, pressing her hand to her ribs, wincing slightly. ‘I twisted badly getting out of Taash’s way. She was charging in my direction, and for a moment, I thought she was Antaam. When I realised, well,’ she shrugged, wincing even more, bending over slightly. ‘I didn’t think she’d want a face full of my shield.’

‘Hardly the best way to make a good impression on our new associate,’ Emmrich agreed as Harding fished out a healing potion.

‘Last one of this batch,’ she said, offering it to Rook.

The Reaper took it gratefully, unstoppering it and gulping it down, holding back a grimace at the flavour. A bit of colour returned to her cheeks and she smiled at Harding as she handed back the empty flask. Emmrich watched her for a moment, realisation dawning; Rook could have healed herself on the battlefield. Alongside their renowned understanding of hexspells and wardweaves, Reapers could draw on the life forces of their enemies, weakening them while converting that power into a personal source of healing. She hadn’t done it. He remembered her telling him that the others forgot she was a Necromancer. He felt a strange, softness curl around him for their leader. That she would rather allow her team to see her as normal, or at least non threatening, than use magic to heal herself was quite remarkable, if foolish. She quirked her lips up in a gentle expression as if she understood the direction of his thoughts.

Heavy footsteps heralded the return of Taash, a bag carelessly slung over her shoulder. Rook schooled her expression to one of welcome.

‘Ready?’ She asked, bending down to pick up her chest piece and shield, wincing even more as she moved.

Emmrich beat her to it, picking up the heavy breast plate and leather strap attached to her shield. ‘Allow me.’

Her eyebrows flicked as he shouldered her shield. ‘Be my guest.’

--//-*-\\--

It had been years since Emmrich had last pulled Hubers Fundamentals of Healing from a bookcase. It was considered first year reading due to its broad look at anatomy, how to mix basic healing potions and simple spells for rejuvenation. He’d not had a need of it for years because he had not found himself facing a living patient since his twenties. However, he couldn’t just stitch the damage together in the same way he would a cadaver. Living tissue needed a different sort of care.

He would need to establish which of the muscles Rook had damaged although based on where she had been pressing her hand and the slight change in her gait, Emmrich would have diagnosed it as the latissimus dorsi being strained. At worst, the serratus posterior. Either way, Harding’s potion would hardly be enough to stave off the pain for long. Nor was it capable of the accelerated healing needed to get Rook back on her feet.

Beside him, Manfred ground the herbs Emmrich had instructed him to work with while the reagent simmered under a low flame. Glancing in the mortar, Manfred was close to finished so he put the book aside and pulled a small bottle from one of the many drawers under the desk. He held it to the light, a slightly viscous liquid curled towards the stopper. He wrapped his hand around it to warm the bottle then after a moment unscrewed it to extract a couple of drops to add to the reagent. With his gloved hand, he picked up the bottle at its neck and swirled it until it took on a pink hue with a swirl of smoke.

‘The herbs, Manfred,’ he instructed as he placed a funnel in the bottle neck.

He tipped the mixture in, swirling it again, channeling some magic with a twist of his fingers until the mixture glowed a silvery grey akin to Rook’s eyes. Emmrich placed it back on the stand to heat it back through while dismissing Manfred. His assistant had found his own fascination with the Lighthouse, and so long as he stuck to the main building, Emmrich allowed him to explore when he had no need of him.

When the mixture reached a bubble Emmrich began to tidy away, placing his books back and using cleansing spells to clean his equipment. A faint pop alerted him to the potion being ready. With additional care, he decanted the contents through a straining cloth, carefully mixing more healing evocation as the liquid dripped through into the new container.

While it was a potion best drunk warm, he paused for a moment to scrub his fingers and nails clean so it could cool enough to be drinkable.

He’d never visited Rook’s rooms before but he hadn’t failed to notice the corridor was next to his own. The rest of the Lighthouse was quiet. While Taash had taken the room beside the other side of the staircase, Harding had taken it upon herself to introduce the Qunari to the rest of the team in the kitchen. Not that Emmrich particularly cared if anyone saw him go to Rook’s rooms; she certainly visited him often enough.

She was expecting him, having suggested she rest while he produced this potion so he took the liberty of knocking then pushing the door open without waiting for a reply stepping into a cool, low lit room. She was led across her couch on her stomach, head cushioned by her folded arms with a breathing pattern that suggested she could be close to sleep. He stepped in and closed the door, eyes wandering over her domain, becoming captivated by the aquarium.

Occupying what should have been the outside wall, it seemed to stretch on, impossible but for the fact they were in the Fade. The Lighthouse was truly a marvel.

‘Pretty amazing, isn’t it,’ said Rook, alerting him to the fact that he had managed to cross the room without thought. ‘I don’t know how it works - if it’s projected or like Harding’s planets, and sort of semi there.’

Emmrich turned, her eyes looked silvery in the swirlingblue light of her room.

‘I made you that tonic,’ he said, holding it up because he needed to remember why he was there. ‘If I could examine your back as well? A healing spell should help it along nicely.’

Rook blinked, still for a moment then nodded her head. He placed her tonic on the table close to her head then knelt beside her.

‘I’ll have to lift your shirt,’ he said, hand hovering over the hem.

She responded with a small wiggle, freeing an arm to lift her shirt, revealing her back all the way up to the midpoint. Unlike her hands, and her face, Rook’s back was marred with a raised lightning flower scar. Dark skin rose in ridges from a point of origin hidden by her trousers and continued under the hem of her raised shirt in the direction of her right shoulder. Emmrich’s fingers flexed involuntarily. Then he placed his bare hand down close to her spine where there was evidence of bruising. He pressed down with his thumb to feel the lines of muscle below her skin. Rook blew out a soft, painen whimper. He flattened his hand across the injury, attempting to ignore the way his fingers fit between each of her ribs. Trying to ignore how warm her skin was. How soft, despite the ridges of scaring. He focused on channeling a silent healing spell through himself into her. Calling on Spirits of Faith and Compassion to lend him, and by extension, her, their aid. The magic spread from his fingers in a warm blue glow. Tension drained from Rook’s body and the next soft breath contained a note of relief. A soft smile lifted on her face.

‘You should still take the tonic,’ he told her, lifting his hand away and sliding her shirt back into place, trying to move at a normal pace caught between wanting to linger in the moment and escaping it. ‘How did you get that scarring?’

Rook rolled over, turning enough to reach the tonic and knocked it back. ‘Pride demon,’ she said, ‘when we were trying to get to Solas’ ritual.’

She returned to her stomach as he got to his feet. Still fighting the urge to gaze at her, Emmrich turned his attention to the aquarium, grateful at having somewhere else to look. But he could still feel her gaze on him as if some inexplicable thread of the Fade connected them; the residual energy of the healing spell.

‘You want to study it, don’t you?’ She asked, yawning as she spoke. ‘Be my guest.’

He turned to answer her, but her eyes were closed, breathing even and he wondered if he had dreamt her words. Emmrich watched her for a moment, the trust she had just extended to him swirling a warm rush in his chest. He wondered what it would be to explore the expanse of her back; tracing the scars with his fingertips; following delicate ridges of her spine with his lips and mapping the valleys between her ribs where his fingers had effortlessly rested moments before. Would she sigh in contentment under his ministrations? Or something else entirely. Something needy?

He was too old for such things. Now anyway. And he had a path forged that could not afford to include an unexpected dalliance. Particularly if that dalliance still had potential ties to a former intended. Rook had not elaborated on the outcome of her betrothal, although the lack of a ring indicated it had not resulted in marriage. Not yet, at least.

And still, he could not keep his eyes off her.

Emmrich closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with a steadying breath, reminding himself of how close he was to the end of his life’s work. His grand finale in touching distance. When he opened them again, his eyes landed on a patchwork blanket that he couldn’t entirely be certain was there before. After shaking it out, he draped it over her, his last sight of her snuggling into folds of fabric with another soft smile on her lips.

--

Author Notes:

Translations -

irgend etwas - Something or other (also, anything)

From the earliest stirrings of canon about Nevarra, the indication was that this was a Germanic coded culture, and as I was writing the segment where I added this, I felt it would work quiet well if Rook actually did drop into Nevarran, in the same way Lucanis drops into Antivan. Luckily, English is a Germanic Language as well, and the flow of the sentence ended up being better for using German in this context.

-- --

A note on Reaper's being able to heal themselves - in-game, at lvl 20 you get 'Spirit Storm', the Reaper ultimate ability that applies 'Siphon' to enemies, which converts their damage into healing. Rook not using the spell at this point in the fic is a little nod to the fact that I'm rarely at lvl 20 when I hit this point in the game, but it's also playing to the theme wherein Rook has admitted that the rest of the team seem to forget she's a Necromancer, and in this chapter, it becomes ragingly apparent to Emmrich that she has not been using her most powerful magics in front of the team because it would scare them. Within the DA universe, Necromancy is a strange one, because it's one-part spirit mage, one-part blood mage and one-part death mage, and shake until combined. From my PoV, 'Spirit Storm' and anything else that using siphoning effects is the proper terrifying Necromancy that Thedosians should be afraid of, not Emmrich raising corpses and channeling the spirits.

[ladyeglantine]

2024 Year in Review/Writing and Hobby Goals 2025

Back for another end of year reflection time!

A year and a half now in my current place and I still love it to bits. Unfortunately wasn't able to do the improvements I'd hoped for this year (cause rising costs of everything), but I hope in the next year or two from saving up and finally a salary increase.

It's been slow going, but I finally feel like my mental health is overall going in a positive direction. I felt my best this year since I started really struggling with my anxiety. Though I still slide into the mindset at times, my self-worth is no longer as tied to work and I'm living a better work life-balance, accepting that that has to be in place for my mental health. Which I wouldn't have done years ago.

Also after years of uncertainty, I finally have some answers as to my struggles with weight and am taking a supplement that I hope I'll see results with into the new year. Thankfully, my migraines didn't pop up as frequently thanks to getting on magnesium (wee!), but my sleep and stomach have been up and down and I'm still trying to figure those out (boo!).

Another sign my mental health has been better, my writing output is the most it has been in years. I surpassed my 25,000 word goal, posting 41,695 words, with between 10,000 - 20,000 words on unposted works. Baldur's Gate 3 (Tav/Gale and Durge[Sienna]/Gale fic) was the biggest driver of the year. Then with finally getting DA: Veilguard (I loathe putting the The in the title, lol) and falling head over heels with Emmrich Volkarin and my Rook, Caliwyn "Cali" Ingellvar, fic has been a happening with them. The real surprises of the year were starting up a multi-chapter BG3 AU of all things where my Bard Tav is under the patronage of Raphael AND fic of another Tav (Arivari "Ari") and her relationship with Raphael. Writing a multi-chaptered AU and a non-canon pairing in the same year was not on my writing bingo card for 2024, lol.

These all will continue to be my areas of focus in 2025. I'd also like to try and start dabbling in my original fiction again (it'll remain on the list until I finally do it!). I still have some My Time at Portia and Sandrock and Stardew Valley things I eventually want to write, but not at top priority (until the writing muse in the back of my brain makes it so).

I also worked on finishing up in progress Ellana/Blackwall ficlets. I decided it was time to set a final chapter number on my collection of ficlets and one-shots for them and Jane/Garrus. I'll never say never to writing for them again (especially when/if we get new ME), but I'm ready to finish the last of their stories and archive my other jotted down ideas.

Some favorites of my posted writing this year:

The Love of Mourn Watchers Ch 1-4 (Veilguard)

Raising of Stakes - Tav/Gale with Raphael interaction (BG3)

Wonders - Tav/Gale (BG3)

Respite - Tav/Gale (BG3)

Taken Care of - Tav/Gale (BG3)

Wounds - Sienna/Gale (BG3)

Stillness - Sienna/Gale (BG3)

Devil of a Patron Ch 1-2 - AU where Bard Tav is under patronage of Raphael (BG3)

Indulgences - Ari/Raphael (BG3)

While I didn't meet my reading goal of 20 new books, I did read 18 (plus, it evened out with all the writing I did, and reading so much Tav/Gale, Tav/Raphael and Emmrich/Rook fanfic). Favorite fiction and nonfiction included Raising Lazarus by Beth Macy; VE Schwab's A Darker Shade of Magic, Vicious, and Vengeful; T. Kingfisher's Paladin's Strength and Paladin's Faith; Murder Your Employer: The McMasters Guide to Homicide by Rupert Holmes; Winners Take All by Anand Giridharadas; and The Demon of Unrest by Erik Larson.

I did well with my games list for this year, playing and finishing Cyberpunk 2077, I Was A Teenage Exocolonist, and Horizon Zero Dawn and Horizon Forbidden West, all of which I loved. Of course played DA: Veilguard and while there are critiques to be had, there is still so much I love and enjoy about it. In a surprise twist, we also got Life is Strange - Double Exposure with Max this year; again, not a perfect game (some story choices were...interesting and wild to say the least, and I need the next game to see how it all works out), but it was such a joy to play as Max again (a character who still resonates with me).

Other games I enjoyed were Arcade Spirits, Duck Detective - The Secret Salami, Echoes of the Plum Grove, The Oregon Trail, and Supermarket Simulator; with returns to Powerwasher Simulator and Disney Dreamlight Valley. I also finally got my grandfather's old desktop cd-rom drive to work which meant I could play many of my old games. Playing Carmen Sandiego and Jumpstart edutainment, Disney games, Lego Island, Backyard sports, Barbie, and older Sims games as an adult was just delightful nostalgia.

***

2025 Primary Writing Goals:

30,000 words

Rook (Cali)/Emmrich fics (DA: Veilguard)

Tav (Bard High Elf)/Gale and Sienna (Drow resisting Durge)/Gale fics (Baldur’s Gate 3)

AU - Raphael is Bard Tav's patron (multi-chaptered; Baldur's Gate 3)

Ari/Raphael fics (Baldur's Gate 3)

Working on last planned Ellana/Blackwall and Jane/Garrus ficlets

Inheritance (original fiction planned trilogy); and standalone semi-prequel in same world

2025 Primary Hobby Goals:

Books:

Read at least 20 new books, with focus on fantasy and non-fiction

Play the following games:

Play and finish Ghost of Tsushima; Metro Exodus; The Outer Worlds; Assassin Creed games

Full re-plays or first playthroughs in Baldur's Gate 3, Veilguard, and My Time at Sandrock

Continue playing Disney Dreamlight Valley, PGA Golf, The Oregon Trail, Coral Island, Echoes of the Plum Grove, Dorf Romantik, Tiny Glade; and childhood favorites :D

Working on backlog of smaller, indie games; so many games!

Other hobbies:

Music (flute, guitar, and piano); main focus on flute

Puzzles and puzzle books; my interest in puzzles has been reignited this year and the collection has begun

Nature photography

Music and video editing 

Crocheting

As always, find joy in the little things and kindness towards self and others <3

[savingthrcw]

starter call for Ellana Lavellan! Check wanted interactions first (specify your muse if you are a multi)

[acanthawrites]

How to jilt a rake Chapter 10

AstarionxTav

Featuring: Gale, Lae'zel, Karlach, Wyll and Shadowheart

Rating: Mature

Genre: Angst, eventual smut, teasing, comedy, romantic comdey, shameless smut, emotional conflict, fluff

Excerpt:

“Did you see the Owlbear cub?” She exclaimed excitedly, Scratch was now sitting on one of her feet, his heavy body weight slumped against her knees as he gazed up at her lovingly.

“You mean that large fluffy snack you keep trying to lure back here? Briefly.”

“He’s not a snack.” Ellana said scratching the dog’s ears absent-mindedly, “He’s an orphan, thanks to those goblins.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, not knowing whether to be annoyed with her or greatly amused. “You heard the thing; its mother ate its sibling because she didn’t like it. Besides it’ll get bigger and that means its stomach will get bigger too.”

“I’ve always wanted to turn into an Owlbear.” Ellana said, more to herself and Scratch than to Astarion, it was clear she wasn’t paying him the slightest bit of notice. 

“Hmm, not sure I’d enjoy lying with an Owlbear.” The high Elf mused, watching as Ellana all but ignored him to plant a loving kiss on Scratch’s head.

Astarion was seized by the desire to put his arms around her and make her look at him until she too kissed him, but he was interrupted by Wyll and Karlach cheerfully joining them and asking questions about breakfast.

[denofgluttonousmuses]

The first thing Ellanne thought when she saw Vivienne was, "Creators, she could break any Aravel with her buttocks just by sitting on them!"

The first thing Vivienne thought when she saw Elanna was, "Maker, we need to hurry up and fatten this elf before someone eats her... Or eat her myself."

[thebookworm0001]

veilguard endgame spoiler thoughts and fic musing under the cut

so I was thinking about the longfic I had rolling around in my head and how, in the one happy ending Ellana and Solas got, it happens because Ellana stabs and kills Solas (he was only mostly dead) then uses the magic she got from a forgotten one to bring him back.

And I was trying to think about how that would marry into the end we did get from veilguard - and whether, if she thought it was necessary, she would trick solas into dealing himself in the prison/holding up the veil

And I had this delicious thought pop into my head which was ‘she would kill him, but wouldn’t betray him’

Ellana doesn’t want to kill solas and will avoid it at nearly any cost, but she definitely gets to a place in that timeline where she knows she’ll do it if she has to. And it’s so interesting to me that she doesn’t conceptualize that as a betrayal because of what she believes he’s been asking her without asking her. He wants to be stopped - he leaves a trail of crumbs to help her with that (which. thank you Veilguard for vindicating that headcanon) and I think she believes that so long as it’s her, so long as she can be with him, she can live with his death (maybe it’s her that’s the prideful one…) Not well, but she can comfort herself with having made sure he wasn’t alone and that she was saving him from himself as he asked to be.

But to trick him? To be deceitful and use their relationship against him to manipulate him into a prison of his own making, where he’ll drown in his own regrets for millennia? Nah she can’t do that.

anyway I love that I get to play with the angst of that and still get a happy end

[dreadwxlf]

@ellana-lavellan-rp sent: does your muse feel motivated by recognition and praise?

~{Solas is very much used to his work going unrecognized or even being vilified, so praise is very much not a motivation for him. However, after everything he's been through, he would appreciation some recognition now and again.}~