#nathaniel how x cousland

[knuttydraws]

Today's pro tip: if you feel uninspired, steal your friend's ship. Bonus points: your friend lives on the other side of the world so you are safe for another 5 to 6 hours. Brianna Cousland belongs to @kittynomsdeplume and Nathaniel Howe belongs in our hearts.

[loustica-lucia]

DAO/DAA — Fereldan Nobility

Fergus Cousland & Nathaniel Howe... 🏳️‍🌈👀

I dunno, I had insomnia and thought this was a cute ship and now it's canon in my World State lmao

Hair alt & original sketch

[storybookhawke]

If there's one thing I know about my Handers War AU prequel is that Nathaniel survives to the end of the war and finally gets to marry his lovely nurse lady, Corinne.

[inquisimer]

even as I stumble on the path

Some self-indulgent Cousland/Nathaniel that I've had sitting in my drafts for a while and finally found time to revise!

✨ read it on AO3 here! ✨

Female Cousland/Nathaniel Howe | T | 3092 words | No Warnings

While grieving an anniversary, Ember seeks refuge in the Chantry. Nathaniel finds her instead. - “They told me you wanted to be alone.” “So what are you doing here, then?” “You shouldn’t be alone, Em,” he said softly. “Not today. And I—“ he swallowed “—it doesn’t have to be me. I know you probably don’t want it to be me. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

Addt'l Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, past Alistair/Female Cousland, Enemies to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Character of Faith, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Chant of Light

DAFF Reading List: @warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @breninarthur

@ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @theluckywizard | @oxygenforthewicked | @exalted-dawn-drabbles |

@blarrghe | @leggywillow | @plisuu | @hekaerges | @queenaeducan

[azurechicken]

Nathaniel not being romanceable in Awakening means nothing to me (or to my Cousland for that matter). It doesn't mean he isn't romanceable at all. Awakening is just the beginning. It's the mutual pinning, the slow burn, the i met my childhood friend and now they are my enemy? They are learning. Learning to live with the tragedy of their families and their intertwined fate. Also learning about each other after such a long time spent apart. And they are casually ending darkspawn after darkspawn while doing so. Shamelessly ogling each other despite the gore. Honorable nobles to unhinged Wardens saving the world from the Blight. Childhood friends to brief enemies to unapologetically flirting colleagues. They will get together, but the narrative will end before they do.

[infinityoftwo]

A Continuation?? Redraw?? of this. Velanna finally got a coat

[seigephoenix]

Happy DADWC day :D How about “I don’t want your apology.” for Elaina Cousland/Nathaniel Howe?

Happy DADWC! For @dadrunkwriting. Elaina Cousland/Nathaniel Howe. Some rare heartbreaking angst for these two.

Content Warning: some decently described violence, heartbreak, and things said in anger

Elaina held a hand up to her face brushing her fingers against the cut on her cheek.  She felt the warmth on her fingertips and knew what had happened.  She turned to face Nathaniel who lowered his bow with a horrified look on his face.  Sigrun and Anders both ran towards her but Elaina had no patience.  She snapped her jaw closed, pivoted on her heel, and brought her shield up in a swinging arc against the man behind her.  His head jerked back and he fell with it.  She held up the shield behind her as the arrows bounced off the hammered steel bearing the coat of arms of the Cousland family.  Elaina reached down with the shield still covering her body and snatched the axe off the dead man’s belt.  She threw the axe with all the strength she could muster, wincing when an arrow clipped her shoulder.  The man with the bow went down with a wet gurgle from the axe embedded in his chest.  Sigrun and Anders took care of the rest of the enemies.

“Warden Commander!” Sigrun spun on her heel to rush to Elaina’s side.  “Are you alright?”

Anders joined them a moment later.  “I told you it was a bad idea for you to be the bait.  I make much better bait and technically, I don’t require a staff to use my magic.”  Anders rested his hand between her shoulder blades, letting the magic flow through her to heal her wounds.  “Where did Nathaniel go?”  Sigrun looked up and saw he was gone.  They shared a look over Elaina’s head and Elaina shook off their concern.  She rose to her feet and picked up the sword from the ground, inspecting it in the dim light of twilight.

“We’d best head back to Vigil’s Keep before any more of these idiots show up.” Elaina turned the man’s corpse face down in the dirt.  Sigrun and Anders agreed and they headed in the direction of the new Warden base.

“So…” Anders began but hastily looked away by the angry glare he received.  Sigrun shook her head as they finally made it back to worried faces.

“I’m going to go lie down.  Sigrun, Anders.  Make sure you get your wounds seen to, alright?  And unless the darkspawn are invading or the world is burning down, do not wake me up.”

“As if I’m stupid enough to interrupt a woman’s sleep.  Hah, you can forget that nonsense.”  Sigrun rolled her eyes at Anders and told Elaina they could hold down the fort for her.  Elaina marched up the stairs with the fury chasing her heels.  Getting angry would do her no good.  Anger was never productive, it was merely destructive.  That was what her mentor always told her, but Elaina would sure feel productive if she could land her fist in a certain man’s face.

“Don’t bother talking to me right now Howe,” she hissed as he stood next to her door.  “I’m too sleep deprived to have any sort of restraint at the moment.”

“Elaina.  I.”  He froze at the venom in those blue eyes.  He remembered when they’d been happy to see him, but he realized how this would seem.  His father’s associates plotting to kill Elaina Cousland, one of the survivors from the massacre at Highever.  The massacre his father started.  Of course it would look like he was plotting with them, they wanted to put him in the Arl’s seat.  His father had promised them too many things.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your fucking apology,” she sneered.  “You knew they were conspiring against me.  You knew it and you didn’t say a damn word.”  She turned to face him and he saw all the anger and fire on her face.

“I suspected they were.  I had no hard evidence.  You wouldn’t have believed me anyway!” Nathaniel argued as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

“We would have investigated it.  Maybe even gotten a leg up on them!  Then I wouldn’t have had to set myself as bait and received this!” She pointed to the thin cut along her cheekbone.  “From your arrow!”  Elaina could feel the venomous words on the tip of her tongue and she was angry enough to not have any restraint.  “What’s the matter Howe?  Going to finish the job your father started?  Getting revenge because it was my sword that ended him?  The fact it was my decision to have all your family’s lands taken from you?”

“You.  How dare you!” Nathaniel yelled.

“How dare I!?  You already snuck in here once to try and kill me!  I was a damn fool to trust you wouldn’t do it again!  I don’t want your fucking apology Howe.  Just leave me the hell alone!” Elaina snarled before pushing into her room and slamming the door closed.  She heard him mutter something before turning away from her room and going down the hall.  Only when she couldn’t hear his feet anymore did she sink down onto her knees, covering her mouth, and letting the grief free with quiet, shoulder shaking sobs.

[psalacanthea]

Reforged in Dragon's Fire- 19

new chapter of the Dragon Age: Awakening Nathaniel Howe x f!Cousland fic is up HERE. Thank you for your patience with my burnout <3

...

Sigrun turned her gaze up  to Nathaniel, swinging her feet.  “Drink, dare, or…”

“Divulge?” Nathaniel suggested dryly, obviously being sarcastic.

“Perfect!”  Anders shouted.

There was a sigh from up above, and the branch rustled softly as Nathaniel left it.  Phoebe glanced up just to catch a flash of him around the trunk.  Hmm.  He’d gotten better at climbing trees.  Of course, when she’d known him he never pulled a bow.

Time changed everything.

A blur of darkness, he dropped down on the other side of the tree.  Jumping off the branch instead of hanging from it properly.  What a show-off.  His knees certainly wouldn’t thank him for it in a few years.  Hmph.

Walking back towards the fire, Nathaniel dusted his hands off on his thigh as he strode.  They all watched him in silence as he returned to his former seat.  Leaning down, he picked up his bottle and took a long drink while staring back at the tree. 

“Really?” Sigrun asked.

“Just to annoy you all, since you seem determined to irritate me,” Nathaniel said, with just a hint of humor in his raspy voice.  “Velanna, I–”

“I’ll perform a dare,” Velanna replied, a hint of challenge in her voice as she stood up at last from her seat.  “I like that much better than ‘a task’.”

Brutally, and with no warning, Nathaniel spoke.

“Kiss someone.”

He took another long drink of his bottle, watching with well-hidden humor as Velanna’s eyes widened.

Phoebe noticed, because she was staring at him, aghast.  “Nathaniel!”

“I will not!” Velanna snapped at the exact same time.

“That is your choice, my lady,” Nathaniel said, voice more forcibly monotone now. “Such a shame you did not feel equal to the task.  If you wish to be educated on how to play the game properly, there it is.  The point is to cause chaos and discomfort.”

“Camaraderie!” Phoebe protested.

“Often the same thing.”

“I do not wish to kiss anyone!” Velanna insisted, sounding less panicked and more firm.

“Then you lose,” Nathaniel said, utterly neutral.

There was silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and Pounce’s ‘meh’ as Anders picked him back up.  The branch shifted as Sigrun cautiously scooted off of it, letting out a small ‘woah’ as she dropped, fingers clinging for dear life.  Startled, Phoebe started to reach for her and then stopped, withdrawing her hand.

Sigrun dropped, landing two-footed and staggering forward a step.  

The abrupt silence burst as Anders began cackling, shaking a finger at Nathaniel.  “You’re evil!  Absolutely evil!”

Lifting his hands in a helpless shrug, Nathaniel smiled just a touch, sardonic and wry. “It is how the game is intended to be played.”

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 12/? Rating: M Warnings: Canon-typical violence Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read on AO3!

Haring, 9:30 Dragon

The paper crinkled under the twist of anxious fingers, the words of the letter contorting as the linen fibres split just enough to crack the strokes of oak-gall ink. Alistair paced. The messenger had presented the royal missive with a silent bow, its urgency betrayed by the fact that it was done in the relative privacy of a corridor and not at the spectacle of breakfast, where the custom was to deliver any letters accumulated from the day before so that all the nobility of Starkhaven might better pry into one another’s business. Conscious of Princess Meghan’s particular love of gossip, Alistair had come to the deserted upper courtyard without even stopping at his rooms to retrieve his cloak, but agitation stirred his blood too high to find the mild Marcher weather cold.

A Blight. A full muster of the Bannorn underway. A personal request from Cailan to come home.

Water poured into a carved basin from the mouth of a bronze lion set into the white marble wall. Emerald vines scrambled up the pillars of the arcade to proffer clusters of scented, dawn-yellow flowers, their colour blanched against the deep blues of the glazed tile floor. When he turned, he caught the brown flash of a sparrow darting into the low hedge under the lemon tree.

“He says the Warden-Commander himself requested an audience,” he worried. “He says the darkspawn are massing in the Wilds.”

Across from him, his companion stared down at the floor, his chin resting grave against his knuckles and his stern brow knotted over tired blue eyes. Nathaniel Howe had always been serious, quiet growing up in the shadow of his father, and seven years spent as the squire of a Marcher lord had done little to temper that early melancholy. Still, wintering as he was while the Grand Tourney gained enough energy for the new season, he was the closest thing to a friend to be found in Starkhaven’s labyrinthine palace, his judgement sound and his manners a comforting reminder of home.

“I should be going with you,” he said. “It’s my duty as much as yours to defend Ferelden.”

“Ser Rudolphe won’t spare you,” Alistair replied. Although the knight could be generous in his way, he also enjoyed the comforts that could only be provided by a bevy of squires. “If he even believes it to be a true Blight. Teyrn Loghain is kicking up a fuss, apparently.”

Nate’s mouth twisted in a grim parody of a smile. “No doubt this is all some Orlesian plot.”

“Something like that.”

Silence fell heavily over them once more. In truth, nothing much could be said; the war stories they had grown up hearing by the fireside told of great battles against enemies that valour and sound strategy could defeat, not a horde of darkspawn that would come wave on wave and kill for the senseless pleasure of blood, like ants, driven by instinct to swallow everything in their path.

“Will you go by Highever?” Nate asked after a moment.

An image cut into Alistair’s mind of Castle Cousland burning, the orchards at its feet withered black with disease. “I… no. Denerim’s closer from Wycombe.”

“You can’t avoid her forever.”

Instead of answering, Alistair chose to watch the sparrow hunting for insects through the leaves, fluffing its dull feathers against the cold as a cloud passed over the sun and pressed its darkness into the already shaded courtyard. He did not need to answer. The truth had come spilling out in the bottle of Satinalia brandy they had shared the previous year, and now Nate knew every detail of how he had betrayed Rosslyn’s trust, then skulked away like a thieving dog. She had probably grown beyond him anyway, won accolades and admirers far better than –

“I know you’re still in love with her,” Nate said when nothing else filled the silence.

“What ��?” he spluttered. “Still – I’m not –”

“It’s been obvious since you were fifteen.”

With a sigh, he gave in and slumped on the bench next to his friend, wistful for a few moments before when the conversation had been about darkspawn. “Not to her.”

He still recalled the day Fergus and Oriana had publicly announced their betrothal. Hiding in the gallery to avoid the adults who had all come to wish her brother well, they had stolen a carafe of deep Antivan red and giggled their way through the speeches, their own small rebellion against those who fawned over Rosslyn like a plaything and pretended the king’s unacknowledged bastard did not exist at all. She had been dressed in layers of samite that rippled in shades like winter fog, like her eyes, with enamelled brooches in the shape of laurel leaves to hold the tumbling night of her hair at bay like storm lanterns on the prow of a ship. That had been the first night he wondered what it would be like to loose the pins and let the silk of it fall through his fingers.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he continued, shaking off the memory. “When I go back, I’ll be fighting, and she’ll hate it but there’s no way her father will let her join him on the field. When it’s over…” He sighed. “Maybe. When it’s over.”

His mind turned to the others he had left behind, to Thea and her family in the alienage, the denizens of Redcliffe, and in between every farm and hold that would be swept away if the king could not turn the horde. He doubted a single child in Thedas had grown up without hearing stories of the Blights, or the unimaginable scale of destruction the darkspawn left in their wake. They were dark tales for dark winter nights – to think they might soon become a reality for everyone he gad ever known…

Trying for a smile, he turned to Nate and folded the letter away into a pocket. “You never know, maybe your father will call you back, too, and we can all take to the field together.”

“Perhaps I’ll write to him first, and see if I can glean anything before you finish packing.”

“Hey! I’m not that disorganised.”

“Of course not, Your Highness,” his friend replied in a placid voice. “And I’m off to join the Grey Wardens.”

[howemancing]

You know, I’ve told a bunch of people on twitter about my account here, but then haven’t done much, so I think it’s time to post this art breeder picture I made of Nathaniel Howe. Not the first time I’ve posted it, but I’m ok with that.  I still love this pixel man 

[vilnan]

i love nathaniel howe so so much!!!! gimme kith

[thatapostateboy]

a heart that is longing for death

Pairing: Jenni Cousland x Zevran Arainai x Nathaniel Howe

Word Count: 985

Synopsis: Jennifer Cousland thinks on her vow to her parents, and the journey it will take her on

Prompt: Day Six: Revenge from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: Violence, Rendon Howe, non-Warden Cousland

Crossposted: Here on AO3

She stands at the crossroads. One road will lead her south to Ostagar. The other will lead straight into Redcliffe. Her brothers are at Ostagar, along with the remaining men in their army. But that alone wouldn’t be enough to stand against Howe. Cailan will also there, and surely the King would bring such a traitor to justice. But with a possible Blight at their door, would he waste royal soldiers who could be protecting the common folk?

Redcliffe on the other hand was home to the Guerrin family, and unlike Howe, she trusted them to uphold their oaths of loyalty. Arl Eamon wouldn’t stand for Howe’s treachery, and his army was far closer to Highever than any other.

Could she truly do this? Stand as head of the Cousland house, call upon their allies and lead them into battle to bring her family’s murderer to justice?

She feels the weight of the Cousland sword on her back. Whether she wants it or not, whether she believes herself capable, she has no choice now.

~*~*~

Aedan finds her in Redcliffe, following along with the Wardens who arrive also seeking aid from Arl Eamon. She holds him as he begs her to tell him that the news isn’t true, that the rumours were wrong, but she cannot lie to him.

She tells him of her vow, her promise to exact vengeance on Howe and she sees resolve rise in that sweet natured boy who always shied away from violence. He takes the sword and swears on it that he will see justice done.

She fights at the Wardens’ side when the undead come, and joins their party, knowing their path will lead right to Loghain’s door, where Howe will be stationed right at his side.

~*~*~

As time goes on and the wound festers within her, she finds that she has little care for justice as Aedan does. There can be no doubt, no trial, no chance for the snake to slither free. She wants him to suffer, to know the pain he has caused. She wants to wipe his entire fucking bloodline from the face of Thedas so that no one would know the name Rendon Howe ever again.

She takes every lesson that Zevran will offer to heart. She wants to know every way to kill a man, and every way to not get caught.

As they grow closer, she tells him of her heart’s desire; to see her family’s killer dead, and he swears that he will help her. He owes her a debt after all. Or perhaps the assassin’s heart had begun to soften towards the noblewoman a little.

~*~*~

She does not let him die until he hears the name of every single person who died in Highever. Aedan watches on, does not stop the torture, no matter how much it turns his heart and stomach, but he allows her this. And when she is finished, the floor, her blades, her hands, soaked in the traitor’s blood, his death rattle curses spat their way, she gives her brother a nod and he drives their family sword through Howe’s stomach as her own dagger drove through his back and into his heart.

He heaves one final breath and falls dead.

She can only stare at him, body shaking with adrenaline as she waits for the relief to set in, to feel the souls of her family finally loosen their grip on her shoulders. But there is nothing, only the realisation that they were still gone.

Vengeance had been had, and she was still an orphan, her home still lost to her.

Her blades slip from her grasp, clattering into puddle of blood, falling to her knees close behind them. Zevran’s arms wrap around her, anchoring her as she finally, finally, allows herself to fall apart.

~*~*~

She allows herself time to heal, to find comfort in the new family that she has built, reminds herself that she still has her brothers, and at Queen Anora’s command, Highever is returned to the Couslands. She thinks that maybe she can find peace again in their home.

Until she finds herself on the end of Nathaniel Howe’s blade.

He had come for Tabris, thinking her his father’s murderer, until Tabris had called her to Amaranthine, telling her of a prisoner that she needed her advice on. She stands at the bars and looks upon the boy she had loved as a girl, now a bitter young man with nothing to lose.

But in his eyes she sees not a reflection of his traitor father, but instead herself, willing to give anything and everything in pursuit of revenge.

She remembers how she had once desired him and his siblings; her once friends, dead, because of their father’s actions and she feels sick.

She talks him down, tells him to find a better way, and even months later when she leaves for Antiva, leaving him behind in Tabris’ care, now a proud Warden, she prays that they both find what they are looking for.

~*~*~

In her own way, she still managed to get her wish.

The Howe bloodline does not disappear, not entirely.

It endures in Delilah and her young son, leaving behind her family name to find peace with her husband.

And it endures in Antiva, in a loving home in a villa by the sea where two nobles leave behind their desires to seek death to instead seek life, alongside their beloved Crow whose name their both take in exchange for rings and vows, granting it to their children.

But Rendon Howe’s name is lost to the annuls of time, marked as a kin-slayer and murderer, his children and descendants turned from him to choose their own legacy.

That, she thinks, cradling her children close to her as she tilts her face to the sun, is about the best fucking revenge she can get.

[mxanigel]

One-word prompts: Cake

Heather finally slips a morsel of cake into her mouth. The spongy texture and delicate cream are every bit as delicious as she hoped they’d be—

“Happy sixteenth birthday, Heather.”

Her moment of enjoyment ruined, she steels her disgruntled expression back into a semblance of politeness before setting down her plate and turning around. “Thank you, Nathaniel. If you’re looking for Fergus, I last saw him entertaining a small crowd near the mulled wine table.”

“I was looking for you, actually.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because it’s your birthday, too?”

“Oh. Well, you found me.” Now leave me alone with my cake!

He fidgets for a moment, gaze turned downward. Maybe he’s lost without a bow. Then he holds out his hand, a small pouch in his palm. “For you.”

Heather blinks and opens the pouch to find a bar of high-quality bowstring wax inside. “Oh, wow. Thank you.”

He’s still fidgeting. She arches an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I’m… I’m glad you like it.” He leans close to kiss her cheek and then dashes away.

Cake temporarily forgotten, she stares at nothing as she tries to decipher meaning from the lingering pressure of his lips on her skin.

[freesidexjunkie]

9 People You Want To Know Better Tag

Tagged by both @astarionfreak and @dutifullylazybread 💕 it's taken me waaaay too long to reply but. we're here now <3 taggingggg @commander-krios @spaceratprodigy @turianosauruswrex @beesoo13 @sorceresssundries @dustplustars @orangekittyenergy @kcwriter-blog @flymmsy @broodsys @lunamayn

Three ships: solavellan, durgetash, annnnnndddd uh. hard to nail down a number 3 but im just gonna go ahead and say Nathaniel Howe x cousland for the angst potential

First ship: uhhhh first ship was probably Marshall Lee and Fiona in junior high. heavily influenced by the emo phase.

Last song: Spotify says POSTMORTEM by Negative 25 but I don't feel like I can claim it bc it was my first time hearing it and I didn't finish it yet

Last movie: Deadpool and Wolverine

Currently reading: N or M? by Agatha Christie bc we stan the queen of murder in this house

Currently watching: nothing atm but the current binges are bouncing between Schitts Creek and Welcome to Waikiki

Currently eating: nothing but I should prob have breakfast huh

Currently craving: the lil fucking coffee tiramisu cakes from the hotpot place nearby... I will pay full buffet price just to stuff my face with those cakes please ;-;

[inquisimer]

wip wednesday

ty for the tags @queenaeducan and @greypetrel 💜💜 a lot of what I'm working on rn is Secrit™️, but I do have a Cousland/Nathaniel oneshot that is ever so patiently waiting for me to have a chance to edit it, so here's a bit of that!

tagging forward for whenever to @plisuu | @skinwalkingxana | @shivunin | @fadedsweater | and @kiastirling-fanfic

-

The tears spilled over now, and she let them. Hot and wet, they spattered to the floor. Once a year, just once, she shed the mantles of hero and commander and arlessa and came here. Once a year, she allowed herself to be the daughter and sister and aunt that she should have been.

“You have walked beside me, down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh. You have stood with me when all others have forsaken me. I have faced armies with You as my shield, and though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing—“ her voice caught again and she swallowed, hard. Behind her, the door creaked open.

Shit. She swiped hastily at her cheeks, but she knew her eyes would be red-ringed when she stood, and there was no mistaking her sniffling attempts to breathe.

Hadn’t she specifically requested they leave her alone?

Before she could unleash grief-stricken anger on some unsuspecting messenger, the intruder cleared his throat.

“Nothing can break me except Your absence.”

An irritated sigh escaped her, but she relaxed. “What do you need, Nathaniel?”

He didn’t answer right away. The tread of his boots was steady, and with each step closer Ember’s jaw clenched tighter and tighter, until finally he stood just a pace behind her. She smelled the faint, lingering sweetness of the honey conditioner he used on his leathers.

“They told me you wanted to be alone.”

“So what are you doing here, then?”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Em,” he said softly. “Not today. And I—“ he swallowed “—it doesn’t have to be me. I know you probably don’t want it to be me. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

[ruiningsalads]

Happy DADWC! Thank you for the prompt! I love F!Cousland x Nathaniel! I saw you were taking requests for F!Inquisitor and Dorian for BFFs. Gossiping at Halamshiral, especially if they start snarking about fashion choices because we know how crazy Orlesian fashion can get!

Only if the muse strikes you of course! Have a fun evening!

this is a fun one for me too! Dorian is such a pleasure to write.

I went with Trevelyan for this one, who in my canon is with Cullen.

for @dadrunkwriting

"My dear, it seems your commander has attracted quite the crowd." Dorian leaned casually against a column in the grand ballroom, looking utterly at ease and unconcerned.

Evelyn glanced over to see Cullen surrounded by a herd of attractive people, all vying for his attention. "Do you suppose I should go rescue him?"

"You'd better not! I rather enjoy seeing him blush." He grinned over at her. "And you're so cute when you're jealous."

She rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't suppress her smile. "If any of those jackals actually manages to attract his attention, I'll eat my boots."

"The same boots you wore into the Fallow Mire? Brave woman!"

"Eugh, don't remind me."

He chuckled, then elbowed her gently. "Take a look over there, by that side door. Who would have thought to use plaideweave for a ballgown?"

"Someone who wants to be the loudest person in the room without saying anything at all." Evelyn took a sip of her drink as Dorian suppressed a snort of laughter. "What about the fine gentleman accosting that servant there? How many birds do you suppose were sacrificed to harvest all those feathers?"

"Enough to make it a crime against nature and fashion." Dorian's tone dripped with disdain as they watched the feathered monstrosity a moment longer.

A nearby throat clearing made them both jump. "Sorry to butt in, but I was hoping to steal the Inquisitor for a time." Somehow, Cullen had extracted himself from his horde of admirers and stood beside them, offering his arm to Evelyn.

"Will you be alright, Dorian?" she asked, fitting her hand into the crook of Cullen's elbow.

"Don't you worry about me, I shall find a way to stifle my boredom alone." He sighed dramatically. "Now, go give them something to really gossip about, you two."