#oc: duvain

[azrithart]

Working out some concepts for a drider-inspired cyborg character 🕷 ___ Please do not use or repost. Do not use my art to train AI. Reblogs are great though - thanks! 💜

[merilles]

Can I just say I adore Dúvain?! She's so cool! I have a bunch of Nazgul ocs myself and I hardly ever see any other Nazgul ocs out in the wild. She reminds me a bit of my oc, Lily. Both have a lot of angst surrounding their Nazgulification. I was wondering if there's a summary of some kind of Dúvain's backstory? I've gotten tantalizing hints and I need to know more! :D

Giggling and kicking my feet, it's delightful to know people are interested in her! My favourite wet cat lady knight <3

CW below for non-graphic discussion of topics such as war, death, and torture

Dúvain, born Lómivanë, was the niece of the Lord of Andúnië during the last years of Tar-Atanamir's reign. Her uncle, Andúnion, was married to the princess Antaríel and had a daughter as well, Eldacálë. the two grew up like sisters, but were very different people and the Lord obviously favoured his own over Lómivanë. She was strange, solitary, quiet; preferring books and horses over people. Her beautiful mother Melilótë died in childbirth, while her beloved father Tindómion later fell ill shortly before her majority. She was thus left to her uncle who loved her little, deprived of an independent inheritance as the daughter of his younger brother.

Andúnion sought to marry her to another Lord of Númenor, condemning her to keep his house and bear him children. She feared that fate more than death, her dread driving her to join the Númenórean military as a calvary soldier. Few mortal women participated in such an occupation, and she found herself scorned both by men and her own sex. But she always wanted to explore Middle-earth, seeing the colonial wars as an excuse to do so. At the time Númenor was rapidly expanding and fighting sauron's vassal-kings, who had grown mighty with their rings of power. She had no idea what she was getting into, succumbing to Númenórean propaganda and having grown up quite wealthy and sheltered.

Through deeds of surpassing valour and sacrifice she rose in the ranks despite being a woman. She was knighted, established in Lebennin by the king's decree as the captain of the Númenórean forces in that land. She also translated her name into Sindarin to reflect her new life. She was very principalled: valuing honesty, honour, and obedience. She followed orders from her superiors closely, because she believed that they knew what was best. They were fighting against people they perceived to be evil, and some certainly served Sauron, not the least those who received rings of power from him. She bought into this sentiment, though had frequent second thoughts when killing soldiers who were just like her.

She imagined they too had brothers-in-arms that mourned them, certainly making many widows and orphans. She questioned the purpose of this war of attrition, for they gained little ground and could not kill these kings. The council of Númenórean lords upon Middle-earth gathered under the shadow to make a deadly decision. They sought a foray into enemy territory to gain an advantage at last in the lands over the great river, and so a company of the finest warriors was sent secretly into the land under the Ephel Dúath (which would later become Ithilien). Sauron perceived them, in part thanks to the traitorous lord of Umbar. They were outnumbered and defeated, a their Captain taken prisoner.

She was brought in chains to Barad-dûr, where she was thrown in the deepest dungeons and tormented endlessly. She was isolated in the darkness, grieving for the deaths of her fallen brothers. She blamed herself for leading them to their doom, despite it being the Númenórean Lords' decision. Sauron intended to put her to his own use by granting her a ring of power, a dark knight to lead his armies against his enemies. Dúvain only hung onto life by a thin thread, for she still feared death, as was the condition of mortals. She was broken, quailing under the weight of her own despair.

Now weakened, she was taken out of the dungeons and brought in chains at the foot of Sauron's throne. Worn down to nothing with no power of her own, she had no choice but to accept a ring of power from her enemy; in fact, it was forced upon her by his hand. No deceit did he use, only the full extent of his cruelty and will to dominate others. He twisted her into a deadly weapon, unmatched on the field of battle; men fled before her upon her return from Mordor, their blood and the blood of their sons staining her sword. And she wept in secret for what he had turned her into.

She became known only as The Black Blade of Lebennin, bearer of Sapthân the Foolstone, the woman she once was forgotten...

[cilil]

AN: A gift for the wonderful @merilles. Please check out the beautiful art for this ship here and here! I always feel so very honored when I get to write other people's OCs ♡

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: despair | Dúvain (OC) x Mairon/Sauron ♡ synopsis: after having survived the dungeons of Barad-dûr, Dúvains finds herself face to face with the dark lord. what does he want from her? ♡ warnings: captive/captor dynamic, power imbalance ♡ short oneshot (~900 words)

The first thing Dúvain saw when she awoke was the gaze of honey-golden eyes, bright and warm like sunshine. They appeared to illuminate the ethereal, perfect face hovering above her with an otherworldly glow, and she was met with a smile a little too sweet and teeth just slightly too sharp to belong to a mortal man. 

The first thing she smelled was the subtle, soothing scent of tea and a cosy fireplace, with only the slightest hint of flame and ash; a scent that one hardly ever noticed until it was gone, a scent that spoke of home. 

The first thing she felt was a hand on her cheek and another on top of hers, long fingers searching, reaching, intertwining with hers like serpents of smooth skin and hard bone. 

"Dúvain..."

That voice. The loveliest Dúvain had ever heard, soft and melodious, surpassing even the most famed minstrels of Númenor. There was a subtle lilt to it as if it was singing to her, slowly coaxing her out of slumber. 

"Dúvain..."

She blinked. It felt as though her mind had been shattered into tiny shards and fragments of memories and sensations, yet she knew she recognised this man – this miraculous being.

It's...

Annatar.

No. No. It's – 

Tar-Mairon. 

Dúvain squeezed her eyes shut. No. These thoughts, these names, they came with such certainty and precision that they felt out of place, as if someone was speaking inside her mind with her own voice. 

Yet now that she was free from that alluring golden gaze, clarity suddenly returned to her. 

It's... the enemy. It's Sauron. 

She sat up abruptly, eyes wide in panic, and freed her hand, scooting backwards until her shoulders met the headboard of the bed she had been sleeping on. 

Liar. Torturer. Deceiver. Murderer. 

Dúvain raised her hands, only to realise that her sword was gone – had been gone for a long time. They had taken it from her, as well as any other blade or sharp piece of steel she could have used to defend herself. 

If he can even be hurt by such things. Either way, her own flesh and bone was all that remained; though she knew already that she was weakened and had little hope of resisting whatever he planned to do to her. 

Would it be worse than the dungeons of Barad-dûr? Under normal circumstances she would doubt it, but the tales of the dark lord's bottomless malice and cruelty made her think otherwise. 

Sauron made no move to stop or apprehend her. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands still resting on the sheets where Dúvain had withdrawn from his touch, and he seemed amused rather than angered by her reaction. 

"You are awake," he noted, speaking in the same lilting sing-song voice he had used to talk to her in her sleep. "Have you slept well?" 

The nonchalance of his demeanour felt like mockery. 

Dúvain didn't deign to answer and clenched her fists. Knuckles white, nails biting into her skin, she forced herself not to tremble. Sauron was the kind of creature that could sense fear, she knew instinctively. 

Could she escape? If not from his dungeon, then maybe from whichever chambers he had brought her to? Nervously, her eyes roamed her surroundings. Even if she could somehow outrun a Maia, guards would be everywhere, and she had no idea where she was, not to mention the battlements, the stairs, the gates – 

Sauron was suddenly in front of her again, now kneeling on the bed. Dúvain flinched; she was certain that she hadn't looked away for even a split second, yet somehow he had still managed to move faster than her eyes could see.

So much for getting away from him... 

His hands reached for her again, and she had nowhere to go. Her gaze fell upon a single golden ring adorning his finger, gleaming proudly and thrumming with strange magic and powers she did not understand. 

"No..."

Dúvain didn't want to be touched. Not by Orcs, not by other Men, most certainly not by the dark lord – 

And yet, his hands were warm, and she was cold, so cold. 

Her breath quickened and her heart raced, like a trapped bird fluttering in its cage. 

"Kill me," she challenged. 

I don't want to die. 

But Dúvain would be brave, like a knight of Númenor should be. 

Sauron merely smiled. "You don't truly want me to." 

Had he read her mind or was he able to see past her facade so easily? He had both hands on her cheeks now, holding her head in a gentle yet inescapable grip, and was examining her panicked expression like an amusing curiosity. 

"My dear Dúvain." The subtle song was back, incessant and unrelenting as if he intended to serenade her into submission. "There is no need for such antics. You have already proven your strength to me, have you not?" 

His smile was so sweet that it sickened her to her core, but Dúvain found herself unable to look away or close her eyes. 

"You have indeed, and I wish to reward you for it."

"I don't want what you offer. I choose death over your treacherous gifts," Dúvain mumbled, though it was becoming harder and harder to focus on her words. 

Sauron laughed lightly, and despite the gentle melody of his voice, there was an edge of cruelty to the otherwise pleasant sound. 

"You fear death as all mortals do, Dúvain. Why don't you instead ask me for something that you truly desire – such as deliverance from its grasp?"

Thanks for reading!

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

[shiftyarchfey]

What music genre is your muse/oc?

Rhian would be considered Folk Rock, Duvain is more Dark Country. Tell me yours?

[azrithart]

my warforged assassin, Duvain 🕷 --- Please do not use or repost. Not for AI. Reblogs are great, though! Thanks 🖤

[merilles]

I am obsessed with your Duvain. I <3 ringwraiths

lotr needed some girlfailure representation, so i was all too happy to provide

she's canon to me <3

[shiftyarchfey]

Songs that fit my ocs (almost too well)

Rhian Lavellan: Seven Mountains - 77 Bombay Street

Duvain Mahariel: Battle Cry - Beth Crowley

Aidan Hawke: Missile - DOROTHY

Rusgan Penestrel: Play With Fire - Sam Tinnesz

Cassian Raenor: Let’s Face It I’m Cute - 11 Acorn Lane

Lianiel de Thalael Fay Mareach: Bones - MsMr

Aurelian Ta’azzh: Look What You Made Me Do -  Taylor Swift (IT FITS ok?)

Celia Thunderwood: Í Tokuni - Eivør

Lillai The Forgotten Song: Menuett - Faun

I have more but this might get long so I’ll stop here

[shiftyarchfey]


✎ and 'a time they felt powerless' for your OCs!


✎: literacy (can they read, write, what languages, etc.)

Rhian can read elven. writing is so-so, he makes some mistakes, but he’s able. Common though, that’s a different thing. He learned, while he was starting to get used to the role as “Herald” and Inquisitor. He also tried his hand at Tevene, just because it interested him, but that was more dabbling and not learning.

Duvain can read and write common. That’s it. 

Let’s just throw in Arion for fun. Arion can read and write many languages, he learned them when he was bored.

A time they felt powerless:

Oh, ok. So Rhian has felt powerless many times as he took on the Inquisition. But the first time and the time that still affects him the most was when he was discovered with his human lover by the people of the nearby village. His lover came from there as well and to not lose face he told them Rhian, the “wicked dalish”, had seduced him, that it wasn’t his fault. This moment of betrayal felt so surreal, he didn’t really fight when they captured him and brought him back to their village. It was days before he managed to escape, with some nasty scars to tell his tale.

For Duvain it was when he saw Tamlen for the last time. Blighted, almost dead and delirious, he wanted so badly to somehow save him, but it was impossible. He’d never felt more weak than at this moment.

Arion again, because it’s fun: Arion, well, when he truly realized the scale of what happened to him. He had been a mortal, a street rat, taken in to learn and then to be used as a sacrifice, granting immortality to another. When his mentor died, he wondered what had happened to him, he fled, hid and tried to be invisible. On his travels, he met many people. They grew old around him, died from age, wounds, fever. And here he was, still the same as always. It struck him then, that he could do nothing to change that. He tried of course, but his experiments led to nothing. 

ask me something about my ocs

[shiftyarchfey]

Kiss - 17 for Thal and Duvain *hugs*

17: To stop them from rambling.

“… and you need to look at the upper swirls there, they indicate passive tense, but only if they are accompanied by this little dot here. Else, they mean that it’s a secondary sentence structure, to be translated only if you already got the meaning of the main sentence done, because it’s going to be really confusing otherwise.”

Rhian leaned back, eyes still on the paper where the scouts had copied wall inscriptions they’d found. Excitement coursed through his veins as he slowly followed the intricate lines with his finger, muttering some grammar rule or another while seemingly ignoring the elf sitting next to him.

Thal’Maren had watched the rambling for a few minutes now, at first very interested in the old writings. More and more it had become clear however, that Rhian was no teacher and got easily lost in the task presented. Lightly chuckling, he reached out to touch Rhian’s shoulder.

With a smile, Rhian turned around and started with another almost incoherent explanation of an especially intricate design, when suddenly he felt the soft press of lips against his own. Stunned, he sat frozen in his chair, eyes wide open.

“I had to stop you somehow,” Thal’Maren replied with a smile to the unspoken question after a few seconds. “Please remember to breathe once in a while.”

kiss my oc meme

[shiftyarchfey]

💒 for both of your DA OCs!

💒 What kind of wedding would they want to have?

Rhian: Nothing too lavish or over-the-top. Which might be a bad thing when your fiancé is a Tevinter magister… But really, something rather private and only in the company of their best friends and closest family would sout him really well.

Duvain: A wedding involving Tamlen. No, he’d prefer a party, but just like Rhian, he’d like for it to be private. Only those he wants to be present. If he ever wants to wed someone. 

[shiftyarchfey]

OC Questions: 2, 4 along with C, G for both of them.

Thank you for asking!

2: How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Rhian Lavellan: Easy. Jokes, pranks and funny stories all make him bellow if he’s in a great mood. Even if he isn’t, he’ll at least chuckle or smile. Sometimes he has to hold himself together during wartable-time with the advisors, because he remembered something funny that happened earlier.

Duvain Mahariel: He never really liked to laugh, because when he does, his belly hurts a lot. He has this kind of full-body laugh that leaves him shaking, but he doesen’t laugh very often, bordering on never. So he is mostly walking around Thedas with either a stoic or sourly expression to dissuade others from making him laugh. If you crack his shell however, he’ll give you many smiles.

4: How easy is it to earn their trust?

Rhian Lavellan: It depends. He’s had a bad experience with humans and is not really trusting there. There is also a lot of ingrained fear from his clan days (the clan elders taught the children to avoid non-dalish people, often with scary stories). But he’s come out of his shell since Inquisition. Nobles usually still have a hard time being buddy-buddy with him, but he’ll definitely trust you fast if you give a reason for him to.

Duvain Mahariel: OH GOD NO. Gaining his trust is basically mission impossible for some. He only trusts those who have shown themselves to genuinely care about him and even then it’s some hard work and most give up because it’s too time-consuming. It doesen’t mean he’s without empathy, but truly trusting one person is something he rarely does.

 C: Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

With both of them, it was this gradual process for me. I’m preparing a long post detailing the journey of Rhian Lavellan, so more details on that but it was basically first just me playing through the respective games and then adjusting their own canon respectively. Rhian made a journey, but the most difficulties I had with Duvain. This one I made about three playthroughs of Origins, read through the books and played all the games until I decided on him, personality-wise and backstory-wise. At first, Duvain was a goody-two-shoes, a kind man with tragic backsotry. This has kinda transferred over to Rhian and now Duvain is just an asshole with a tragic backstory. (I still love him though)

G: What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

With Rhian it’s his helpfulness, because each playthrough I have to finish all the side missions. Jokes aside though, he has this desire to butt into affairs that aren’t his, he’s very curious and that’ll one day be his downfall. I kinda don’t like how that is at the moment, but maybe that’s just myself fearing his end.

With Duvain… I guess how he treats some people? I usually make a playthrough where I’m nice to EVERYONE and Duvain certainly isn’t. I can’t not be nice to those people in-game (except when they’re an asshole), so being Duvain and goung through Ferelden being an asshole is not my favourite part.

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