#or i guess wanting warden support so not killing off the warden so they can have a better standing? idk

[amatres]

love that through the power of notes i get learn how many ppl don't want to kill their warden ever. couldn't be me, i would kill all my protags if the games would just let me and i liked the narrative reasoning

[my-dumb-obsessions]

I just saw your tags about Cariane Amell's quest for an untainted Old God and that is *fascinating.* What else is Carie up to? What is she like?

Hoo, boy! Cariane's post-Awakening life has many twists and turns, and a good amount of involvement in DA2 Act 3 and Legacy timelines.

What is she like? Compassionate within certain limits, curious and resourceful. She will frequently make decisions with incomplete information because "someone has to." Give her a little bit of command and she'll run with it. She may not know best, but will listen to people she trusts and course correct. But if she's got an agenda and really believes in it, she will stick to her guns.

For this particular project, it started during the Blight. In the years after discovering Soldier's Peak she spent a lot of time working with Avernus, who'd used blood magic to hold off his own Calling and extend his life by 200 years. She also got him a solid number of Warden test subjects after a group of Orlesian Wardens failed to oust her from command (these were the same Wardens who, under their acting Commander, drove off half her mages - including Anders - while she and Nathaniel answered a summons from Weisshaupt). There was a week-long battle over Vigil's Keep, and after reclaiming it from the rebels, she captured and sent them to Avernus rather than executing them.

Carie is also an unapologetic supporter of mage freedom and an active thorn in the Chantry's side, so years later when Leliana informed her that the Chantry wanted her help, she didn't trust it. She took it as a warning and gradually moved Warden operations from Amaranthine to Soldier's Peak, away from public attention.

"In my dreams, I see the Black City, and I am drawn towards it. There is something there, an answer to what this taint is, this taint that we share with the darkspawn..." —From the notes of Avernus (DAO Warden's Keep DLC)

"Naturally, of course, we cut into the cyst. The flesh within was blighted. We immediately examined all other cysts found in the other dragon carcasses. Each time, we found the blight. The only conclusion we can draw is that dragons can stem the spread of the blight within their own bodies." —Excerpt of Frederic of Serault's Report (DAI)

Cariane killed the Architect, because to her, the only good darkspawn is a dead darkspawn. But his research had merit, and she's fine with shady experiments if she's the one doing them 😅. Combined with the work she did with Avernus and the "relevant to your interests" report Leliana sent her about dragon autopsies, she put together this theory. She also got access to old records that implied Wardens who specialized as Reavers tended to live longer before hearing their Calling than other Wardens.

After Avernus died, this became her goal, to see if dragon blood could stem the taint indefinitely - not just any dragon, but the most powerful, near-divine creatures on the planet, of which there were only 2 left. Like a darkspawn, she could follow the sound of the song. And if she could get there before the darkspawn tainted it, maybe she could unlock the power of its blood.

So yeah it's not too different from what Clarel's Wardens were working on, taking the fight to the archdemons before they rose. She just had different plans for what to do when she found one. Does it make her a hypocrite for killing the Architect? Yeah, kind of. Is it completely misguided and doomed to fail? Maybe. I guess we'll find out.

—

Guys I love talking about Cariane, she's got so much lore, I could talk about her for days. Ask all the questions, I'm game! ❤️

[shushiyuii]

Here is a writing request! I hope you have fun with it! You can put noms in if you want to! :D : Giant warden hybrid Wilbur lives very deep underground and is very lonely. He meets a lost avian hybrid named Phil and decides to help him out of the cave system. When they get out Wilbur is sad that Phil has to go. Phil then decides its time to adopt another child and brings Wil with him home to a surprised Techno and Tommy.

AAAAAA I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! THANK YOU ANON! I DID HAVE A LOT OF FUN WITH IT and may also have gone a bit crazy with it? lol

(I didn't include Nom's in this story but if you ever wish for a part two with noms or anything i'd be more than happy too!)

Warnings: Injury, (Maybe some heavy subjects such as a child being lonely)

Words: 2.6K+

He doesn’t remember his younger days; he honestly couldn’t be sure who he was or how he even came into existence. One thing for sure was sounds, the tapping of a spider’s legs, creepers occasional hissing, skeleton’s bones rattling and a zombie’s growls.

It was always so dark, he’d seen the light of lava, sometimes even the light of day but the sky was always so high, so out of reach. And he couldn’t quite fit into the cave systems to find a way, so he was stuck.

He’s alone, he hates it. It’s too dark.

…

Phil flew high above the clouds in laughter, it’d been a while since he’d gone out on an adventure. Well, if you counted a much-needed mining trip of coal, iron, and such. But it was nice to be out of the house for once, especially with the kids out of the way.

Not in a bad sense though, he loved his kids but sometimes things were so busy he couldn’t keep track of things. Raising a toddler and a somewhat crazy child is well chaotic.

His two kids, Techno and Tommy. Techno had been adopted by Phil a bit early on, when Phil first met his now-wife, Kristin. He found Techno on the streets of a village, trying to fend off bandits. Phil’s fatherly instincts kicked in, a thing he’d always had and couldn’t help but take the boy in. Much to his reluctance.

Techno grew up with Phil and is now a very healthy and happy 11-year-old, and then there’s Tommy. The most recent member of the family, his little bundle of joy of about 3 years old, Techno found it odd being an older brother, he still does but he copes.

The feeling of his feathers swaying, his hair blowing, him having to attempt to keep his hat on every second, he missed this feeling. He was glad he just managed to find a babysitter since their mother was currently out on ‘business terms’.

…

The vibrant blue sky, below the loving shades of green passing with every flap of his wings. He wondered if his wife was watching over him, with her being a god and all.

He was happy how life was currently going as of late, he only hoped that fate had a good future ahead of him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts as he finally arrived at the destination. He had been well prepared for this trip; it was a mine that he’d been wanting to adventure for ever so long. He could tell there was something about it, something special.

And judging by the vibrant minerals just shining from the sunlight of the entrance, something told him there was more than just iron and coal in this cave, perhaps something more valuable, diamonds.

…

He wasn’t sure how long it’d been, but it had been a long time, he had quite a bit of iron, coal. But not only that gold and emeralds, a valuable currency. He wouldn’t have to worry about mining with the number of minerals he now had. Not only that but diamonds could be used to create powerful weapons.

He knew Techno would be happy, he’d always loved shiny things. Probably due to his Piglin features. And he could make Kristin some beautiful jewellery. It made him happy to say that his family was going to be good for a good while.

…

He picked up different noises, it was odd to hear such things. He could hear strange padding noises, perhaps some creature moving? Not only that but he heard the breaking of stone, which was a rare sound in his caves.

It was somewhat crazy to think something else could be coming closer to him, to hurt him. He knew he was strong not he didn’t even know If he was as strong as the outside monsters.

He wasn’t sure how he came to be in this world, he was always so alone. But sometimes the vines would speak to him, telling him of things like a place called the surface, which was colourful and bright.

…

The breaking of stone could be heard again, it only got louder and louder every minute. Whatever was making those sounds had found him and was coming for him. His antennae twitched anxiously; he was scared he didn’t want to die.

His claws bared as he readied his sharp teeth, he scanned for wherever the sound was coming from and waited to attack.

…

He panted as he broke at the stone, it’d been a while since he’d done so much mining, he was much out of shape. He had no idea where he currently was, he was long lost in this cave with no way of finding his way back. Despite the torches, he had no lead to where he came.

He was now trying to mine into the walls, hoping to find another branch of the cave that would finally lead him to a way to the surface. After the struggles of breaking through the wall for however long, he finally found another branch of the cave.

Big mistake as the first step he took into this cave, there was a loud crashing sound. Something had tried to hurt him, and he barely dodged it, the ceiling of the cave barely supported the impact, rubble falling from the ceiling.

He readied his sword for battle as he ran to behind a rock for cover. Something that caused that impact was definitely big, like strangely big. Not only that but the cave was one of the darkest caves he’d ever seen, the only light being from his torch.

He had no idea of where if he was honest, he couldn’t even tell if he was hiding properly. Anything could creep upon him at the current moment, it was oddly quiet, the only sound being his heartbeat.

…

He heard a strange growl behind him, it scared him with how deep and shallow it sounded, definitely a monster. Hesitantly he turned to the right, and right there was the monster staring right at him. But the monster flinched back when Phil turned around, the bright light in the monster’s face.

It seemed to hurt its eyes as he held his eyes and stumbled back in pain, from what he saw he saw about four eyes, antennae, and dark greenish-blue skin, with some light green bioluminescence that reacted to light. It appeared to be a Warden, a creature Phil had read about.

A creature of great mystery, one that mostly relied on sound, one that could communicate with plants. It was an odd creature, but the thing is about this Warden. It had a set of hair, not only that but it looked a lot more humanoid than what he’d seen drawn of the creatures.

It looked rather young too… No! No fatherly instincts! Monster?...

…

He winced in pain and stepped back from the strange being, he hadn’t seen light in quite some time. This thing was nothing like he’d ever before. He had never seen such a strange light. It hurt. This thing was strong if the creature had that then it could definitely kill him.

It came prepared.

“Hello?” it spoke. His eyes dilated as he scanned for the light, he saw it move around. He could see the creature’s confused features. It seemed almost scared itself, not only that but concerned. Something he wasn’t quite familiar with.

He was surprised by the fact that he could understand the creature, it was an oddly familiar language. “Hello?”, he replied with hesitance. He was scared that the monster’s features would change, and the creature would attack him.

“Oh! You talk? Good, because I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding!”. The creature made a strange sound, but seemed relieved and happy? Laughter?

“Sorry about the light, I didn’t realise it’d hurt you, my name is Phil. How about you?”

“What’s a name?”

“Oh? You don’t have one, well I guess a way to describe it would be a sort of title, something people can call you to identify you from others!”.

“… I don’t have one?”.

…

The creature- Phil had come closer, more friendly than before. No weapons, a smile. The once bright light is now dim, more adjustable.

“Well, if you don’t have a name. How about we give you one?”.

“Okay…”.

“Hmm… You look like a.. A Wilbur!”.

“Wilbur?”.

“That’s your name! Wilbur! Do you like it”.

“It sounds nice. I like it!”.

A name? It sounded nice, it made him feel unique, different from others…

…

“Well, Wilbur. Do you think you could help me?”, “How?”. “Well, you see I’m kind of stuck here. I don’t know my way out.”.

“Where do you want to go?”, “The surface.”.

…

“The surface?”, “Yeah! I need to get home!”. “Home?”, “Yeah, it’s where I live with my family!”, “Family?”, “A group of people who are very important to me, I have to get home or my sons, I don’t know what will happen.”, “Okay. I’ll help.”.

Wilbur lent his hand, confused Phil just stared at it. But Wilbur just ended up scooping up Phil and standing up, wandering through the caves.

“So, you live in these caves?”, “Mhm”, “Aren’t you lonely?”, “… Yeah…”.

“How old are you?”, “I don’t know, they say I’m a youngling…”.

…

Phil’s fatherly instincts kicked in, a kid on his own in a fucking cave system? No fucking way. He had no choice; his mind was already made up. This kid was now his, he now wanted nothing more than to smother this boy in the love he never had, care for Wilbur. Like how he met Techno.

The two ventured the caves for a while, surprisingly no mobs. The two at this point had spoken for a while and gotten to know each other a small bit, Wilbur seemed fairly interested in his family too! So, it made him happy to think that he’d achieved a new son!

But he spoke a little too soon, a loud bang frightened Wilbur. Wilbur jumped back and dropped Phil from a height. Phil landed with an oof and looked back at Wilbur who was now crouching in fear, immediately he ran over to comfort the boy despite his aching leg.

“Hey, hey. Wil, it’s alright, it was just a creeper.”. He ran his hand over the boy’s own hand, “I-I, it was loud...”, “I know, I know. But it’s okay! It’s not gonna hurt you anymore mate! I’ll protect you!”.

…

He released his hold on his eyes and looked down to Phil… Protect? As in guard him? Phil’s eyes were enough to reassure him, it brought him comfort despite the small time of knowing him, he’d never known such a kind person before.

He picked up on a sound, the tugging of string. Phil didn’t seem to hear it as he was concentrating on him. He looked back to see a skeleton aiming an arrow at Phil. Scared, he quickly brought Phil to his chest as the skeleton shot the arrow.

Phil screamed but immediately calmed as he heard the arrow hit the ground, realizing that Wilbur had only been protecting him. He smiled and looked back furiously at the skeleton.

He reached for his sword and despite his aching leg, wiggled out of Wilbur’s hold and sliced the skeleton in half, its remains turning to dust and bones. He looked back to Wilbur, “You okay, mate?”.

“I’m fine! How about you? You’re walking differently.”. “Ah, I’m fine mate. My leg just hurts a bit!”. “Hurts? As in pain?”, “Yeah? Wh-“.

Phil was cut off when Wilbur brought him back to his chest, standing up and continuing their adventure to the surface. Being sure Phil was secure in his hold, not wanting to bring any more pain to this man.

…

A bright light could be seen in the distance, “Hey Wil! I think that’s the surface!”. Wilbur looked over in the direction of the light, he winced slightly but his eyes adjusted as he made way to the light.

Once they were outside, Phil took a good breath of fresh air. Wilbur copied, confused as to why and surprised with how fresh the air felt in his lungs. It was refreshing.

“Wil! We’re outside! Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing but…”

“Hmm, what’s wrong?”.

“Where do I go now?...”

“We can go to my place if you want, you can meet Tommy and stuff.”.

“Really?”.

“Of course, Wilbur!”.

Phil then flew upwards and directed Wilbur to follow him, along the way Wilbur would get distracted by the views and greenery. Phil was more than happy to wait for the boy.

Now that he thought about it, he had a clearer view of Wilbur, who was definitely a lot more humanoid than he first thought, perhaps he was a hybrid of sorts? Only time could tell.

But at the break of dawn, Phil arrived home as was greeted by a worried Technoblade running towards him, a Tommy trying to follow behind him, wanting his father’s hold.

“Techno! Tommy! Are you guys okay?”. “Dad! Where have you been?”.

The worried words of his son and the rambling of his toddler were enough to make him scoop them up in his arms and cover them in kisses. Which seemed to cheer the two up.

But all hell broke loose when Techno stared up at Wilbur, he stood in front of Phil to protect him. “Who are you?!”, “Techno! Calm down! This is Wilbur! Your brother!”, “Brother?! Really Dad?!”, “Yes really”.

…

Despite the reluctance, Techno grew used to his new sibling, so did Tommy who seemed to really like Wilbur. Not only that but Kristin was more than happy to have Wilbur adopted into the family, and that’s how Wilbur joined the family.

… Bonus …

“Bitch!”

“Oi, don’t use those words, Tommy!”.

Tommy was now about 5 years old, a very clingy 5-year-old. One who never left Wilbur alone, not that Wilbur hated it, he loved his younger brother a lot. It was just sometimes he could be quite annoying.

“Wilby! I want cuddles!”. His antennae twitched as he closed his four eyes, pinching his nose to be as dramatic as possible and let out a long sigh, “Finee!” he dragged out. Tommy’s excitement as he ran to grab blankets was more than enough to make him smile.

Wilbur sat down against the wall as Tommy dragged pillows and blankets against the floor, the things being double his height and dragging behind him. Then made his way to throw the pillows at him and attempting to climb onto his lap.

He failed multiple times, “Wil! Help me!”. Finally with the help of Wilbur’s claw he adjusted and cuddled within Wilbur’s hold.

“Tell me that story again!”, “The one about the civilization and the brothers?”, “Yeah!”.

Wilbur laughed, “Okay!”.

Within 5 minutes of the story, Tommy had fallen asleep, so Wilbur changed to a simple lullaby whilst playing with his baby brothers’ hair. Something precious, something he’d always protect.

“Got room for one more?”, Techno stood there in his crowned PJs, who seemed barely functioning, his blanket and pillow dragging behind him. Usually, he’d never do such a day but today seemed to be an exception. “Of course Tech!”.

The three then fell asleep together.

…

“Awwhh! Look at them Phil!”, Kristin whispered as she peered into the room of her son’s bedroom. Phil giggled, “I know! I’m glad I have such a good family”.

Within the palm of her hand, he laid. Thankfully for them, Kristin was a giant, so the house was already pretty adaptable for Wilbur. She placed a kiss on his forehead. “Love you, hun!”, “Love you too!”.

[whitefawnn]

blood letting (part 7)

c!wilbur soot x reader

warnings: manipulation, violence, fighting, panic attacks, trauma, mentions of character death

masterlist of blood letting

note: read the warnings

His sword is a comfortable weight in his scarred hand, the hilt wrapped in leather, his grip tight. The metal weapon felt like a return to himself, its shimmering a sinister promise to hurt those who had wronged him. His mouth watered as he stared at the light blue sword, imagining it as a dark purple. He missed Nightmare but for now this must suffice. Dream quickly went back to sharpening the blade, meticulously making sure it would be perfect to slice through his enemies just as it had been crafted to, to right what had been wronged.

He had been waiting for Wilbur to return without y/n, but something in him knew Wilbur wasn’t coming back. He knew from the start. Men like Wilbur could be so fickle with someone like y/n whispering in their ear. Y/n could be so persuasive, so persistent, he didn’t know if he could bring himself to fault the man for folding. He knew it would end like this though, them on opposing sides. He wasn’t connected to Wilbur anymore, ties severed after he walked out of that prison, no matter what Wilbur had convinced himself of he could care less about the man.

He was almost done preparing his gear, not bothering to even start Wilbur’s even when he was still here. He only had to go to the nether to collect netherite before he could begin his onslaught. The future tasted sweet, a sick promise of blood to finally be in the air again. Dream laid down the sword on the cracking anvil with a smirk. He turned to look at the marked map behind him, x’s on houses, arrows pointing to weaknesses and targets. A mosaic of to-be pain all in one place.

He had been weighing whether he would kill y/n or not. A big question mark scribbled over where their house sat. He wondered if they could change, be fixed if you will. I guess the decision could be made later, when they weren’t in the place to deny such mercy from Dream. When his sword was slowly drawing blood from their neck. Guess he would be just like Wilbur in that regard.

——————

“I’ll come with you, I will, please just-“ I focused on the panicked voice that trailed from behind me as I slowly came to. I was sitting on a hard surface, my back against someone whose chest was hastily rising and falling. Their breaths were forced and ragged. “Sam, please they need help-“ The voice called out and was cut off as I slowly cracked my eyes open to be met with the night sky and the looming prison. The building first insisting fear then a strange sense of home. I was back in the dsmp, no longer imprisoned in a gloomy mansion, yet I was still with Wilbur. Why did that make me so scared?

“Wilbur, I should kill you right now. Do you not understand what you did? What mercy I’m even giving you right now by letting you fucking speak?” I shook my head, sitting up straight against the person behind me. I desperately wanted to defuse the argument but didn’t feel like I had the words or the strength. My brain a mess of feelings and fog. Sam quickly turned to look at me with wide eyes once he noticed my subtle movements. His gaze felt like sunlight for a brief moment, an escape from all that has gone horribly wrong. He granted me a soft smile that I only knew existed by the crinkle of his eyes that weren’t covered by his intimidating mask.

“hey, y/n” he spoke with a lighter tone more indicative of Sam not the Warden he was being towards Wilbur. I reached for him with an open hand merely wanting to hug my close friend. To give up for just a second. He quickly came up to my side helping me slide off the large horse I had been seated on. I caught a glimpse of Wilbur’s nervous smile, but quickly pressed myself into Sam’s body. Wilbur could wait, he could wait for just a bit.

I needed a separation from everything. Wilbur’s face feeling as damning as seeing Dream himself sat behind me. A chill ran over my body, Dream’s hands pushing me to the floor all over again. My arm hitting the ground. Sam didn’t hesitate to wrap himself around me once I was within reach, warmth engulfing my sleep-riddled body. I winced at the pain he caused by pressing on my injured arm but could care less. “Hi, bear.” he mumbled into my hair, a familiar nickname that made me feel even more relaxed. Warmth bloomed in my heart, a brief moment of peace.

“Sam,” I sighed out, allowing myself to fully melt into him knowing he would support my weight, knowing he wouldn’t let me go as he never had before. I wanted to disappear, to implode, my life felt on fire. A burning house with no exits left. I tried to steady myself against him. The feeling was also a wash of familiarity, smelled just like gunpowder, felt just like when the man behind me had died.

“Do you wanna go home?” he asked me, slightly pulling back from our embrace so he could study my expression. It was such a simple question, but yet I felt my eyes water. He seemed to falter the more he looked at me, his own eyes jumping across my face. I probably looked like shit.

“mmmhm,” I whimpered, stuffing my face back into his chest as hot tears began to run down my cheeks. Everything was wrong and it felt like it was my fault. I could feel Wilbur’s eyes burning into my back and it only made me feel worse. I was not only responsible for my own safety, I was responsible for everyone’s. I was now heaving, sobbing into Sam’s chest as he pet my hair and let me crumble.

“Just breathe, bear. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.” he whispered into my hair. I quickly shook my head against him, my anxiety a vice. “I know, I know, let’s get you home okay.” He took the liberty of picking me up, cradling me in his arms “Wilbur, you follow behind or god fucking help you.” Wilbur didn’t respond but I heard the clicking of hooves follow behind us.

————————-

Dread built in his stomach as he followed closely behind Sam and y/n. He selfishly couldn’t bring himself to focus his full attention on the exhausted body being cradled by Sam. Anxiety pooled on his skin as he slowly trailed behind the pair to y/n’s home. The path was familiar, he need not put too much effort into following as his worries consumed him.

“Wilbur, come hold the door open.” He was quick to tie up the horse and pry open the door. The clear closeness between Y/n and Sam shocked him. The nickname ran through his head, bear, a staple of the months he had missed. Sam hadn’t even been a name he had known, not in any great clarity at least when he had passed. The relationship added context to the fact that y/n had thought they would be able to ebb the consequence of his mistakes with the Warden himself. He hadn’t believed this, leaving y/n to fight with Dream alone on a matter he knew they wouldn’t be able to change. To be left a bruised mess on the floor. To be told by Dream to use them further, y/n a mere puppet to the man, and now a new consequence of his own actions arose, he must talk to Sam alone.

“Wilbur.” Sam’s voice was gruff and lower than the one he had used with y/n.

“Sam, are they-“ he was promptly cut off. Wilbur studied Sam’s hard expression, their eyes locked.

“They are asleep in their bedroom” The tension between the two was palpable, but the reason seemed to have strayed off. Countless things went through Wilbur’s head as he stared the Warden down. “Do you understand what you did, Wilbur? I should have already killed you, but y/n-“ he paused, his hand falling from its place on the hilt of his sword to be run through his hair. Sam shut his eyes tight, trusting that Wilbur wouldn’t foolishly run.

“You mean too much to them.” A breath got caught in Wilbur’s throat “I probably understand that more than you. After you died, Wilbur, they were in bad shape, really fucking bad shape.” Wilbur sharply inhaled, his lungs full of needles. He didn’t need to hear this or maybe he just didn’t want to. “They wouldn’t leave this fucking house, Wilbur, and you came back and, fuck, I think you made them worse all over again.” Sam looked up at Wilbur.

“You were an impossibility to them, they were finally fucking moving on.” Sam got to his feet “You and fucking Dream just hurt them over and over.” His gaze was burning right through him, he immediately relented, stepping back. Wilbur’s shoulders hunched as he let himself fall back against the now shut door. “and they still love you.”

“Sam,” he quickly held up his hand. Wilbur taking the hint that he wasn’t done. He watched as Sam took a deep breath before averting his eyes to the kitchen.

“So much happened that y/n isn’t telling you things that Dream did to everyone in your absence. Wilbur, he beat Tommy to death and he-“ Sam looked back at Wilbur’s crumpled form. Wilbur needed to understand. “You let out a monster, Wilbur. A monster that hurt the person in that room more than you can imagine.” A silence drew out between them, a silence that was not filled by voices but their own shared labored breathing. Both men drawn tight, two strings about to snap. “Stay here with them. Don’t you fucking think about leaving.” Wilbur gave Sam a nod. He wasn’t going to leave them, he wouldn’t think twice about that even if Sam wasn’t threatening his life.

Wilbur trailed to y/n’s bedroom, somewhere they had once shared. The room had changed drastically since then, new sheets and new furniture. He knew it was because of him, he couldn’t imagine living in that room if their roles had been switched, a ghost around every corner. Sheets once green were now a ruby red. Y/n was sleeping now, their face a reflection of calm water not the panic it had been earlier. The more he studied their face the more Wilbur paled. He noticed scars he hadn’t before, how the bruise had only gotten worse. Time apart and together alike leaving them with more wounds. He fell into a restless sleep beside them.

[ginger-danica-snapps]

The Wolf Queen and Her Crow Prince

By Ginger D. Snapped

Written for @jonsaseasonalbash day 3 - 24 April: crow and little bird/king and queen/stone and snow.

I was out of town unexpectedly for Day Three, but here is my completion for the Jonsa Seasonal Bash, using the prompt King and Queen. This is written as snapshots of the time when the freefolk began to gather and the end of the long night. This is not betaed, so please be gentle. 

You can also read on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/30930386

Summary: Sansa knows she didn’t always live beyond the wall. Mance and his wife were not her parents, but she was freefolk to her bones and it didn’t matter who discovered her. She would save her people from the Night King and never kneel to a Southern King or Queen. 

 Sansa knew there was a time in her life that she didn’t live beyond the wall. She knew the same way that she knew what lemon tasted like and that somewhere there were people who were not always fighting the cold. Where people were fed when hungry and she was loved. The only thing she remembered from that life was her name being Sansa. 

Not that she was not loved by her people. Mance and his wife had been good to her. They had even told her some of the truth of how she came to be with the Freefolk. It was not a pretty story and she knew she had basically been stolen long before she was ready to be taken as a wife. Mance had killed the man that brought her beyond the wall, but worried about what would happen if he took her back across. 

So, she stayed with Mance and Dalla and learned the way of the freefolk. She became a sister to Val and while she did not have the fighting ability of many of the spearwives, she could hold her own well enough to dissuade any more men who came to steal her away. 

Still, she found her way across the great white to peer upon the wall several times in her growing years. She would stare upon the great monstrosity and wonder who beyond it would remember her. Was she missed? Was she loved? 

It made her melancholy in a way that was hard to explain, though Val tried to understand. 

Something else began to settle into the freefolk’s general attitude towards her in the latter year. She’d been one of them for so long that when she was happened upon by a shadowcat and thought herself dead that she was grateful to have lived free. It was not her day to die, however, as a gigantic beast flew from the rocks above them. 

She had scrambled backwards on her hands and bottom, boots scuffling against the ice and snow. Val, Mance, and Ygritte reaching her just as she stood and she leaned gratefully into Val’s own warmth. The cat was now had by the neck with what Sansa realized was a gigantic grey and white direwolf. 

They had seen only trackings of the great beasts before and often avoided the area they were found. 

When the cat was obviously dead, Sansa pushed Ygritte to the side when the girl went to draw back her bow string. 

“NO!” she cried out before she had formed a thought for what she was going to do. Then she was pulling away from Val and rushing forward to the wolf. 

She hit her knees as she reached forward, kneeling before the wolf, and realized for a moment she felt a savage joy at destroying the shadowcat and tasted blood in her own mouth, though there was none. The beast leant to her and rubbed it’s humongous face against hers. She let a giggle escape her before she was flinging her arms around the wolf. 

“Nothing to be said for it now. The rumours about the Stark girl going missing were true,” Val murmured and Sansa looked up to Mance. He looked as if he had aged twenty years in the span of moments. As if he had already not been struggling over their people going missing by the tribes, clans, and societies. 

Sansa was not stupid. 

If a Stark child had gone missing some years before and now she had a direwolf in front of her who seemed to want to keep her, then by all rational thinking she was this Stark girl. 

Amazingly, for the first time in many years, Sansa saw a flash of something in her memory. A grey and white flag with a direwolf upon it. 

She wrinkled her nose as she realized what this meant. 

She had always known she was born to someone below the wall, but she was not just the child of a kneeler. She was a child of someone that the people kneeled to. 

“Child,” Mance’s voice reached her and she looked up with a tilted head. She huffed as she realized he was worried about her reaction. 

That was stupid and she told him so. If he, a deserter of the crows, toted her back to the wall they would have thanked him, taken her, and then promptly hung him for desertion. Then it was likely they would have drummed up the support of these Lords and Ladies she was apparently blood kin too and brought an army into their home to kill indiscriminately. 

“It is fine, stop being stupid. I understand that it was even more important to not return me if I was...am...this Stark girl,” she finally murmured. 

They made their way back to the camp Sansa kept her hand on the nape of the direwolf. 

“Whaddya gonna name her?” Ygritte asked eventually and Sansa looked over in surprise. She truly had not thought about it. 

She looked at the wolf and then thought about how she hit her knees in front of her. She grinned savagely and laughed. 

“Well, I kneeled before her, so I guess she must be a Lady,” Sansa answered and Mance barked out a laugh. 

“Lady it is,” he chuckled and they made their way back to their tents, the freefolk around them all giving them wide eyes. 

-------------

It was three moons later when the world went to shit.

Their people, those that called Mance King and those that did not, were being slaughtered by these dead creatures. Sansa had seen three of her milk siblings rise and attack the same as that which had killed them. 

She’d cut the head off of one herself with Val thrusting a lit torch against the creature and setting it aflame. They’d barely managed to hold Dalla between them before Lady had returned from wherever she had been hunting. They all clamoured on top of the direwolf, gripping hands into the fur, and Sansa murmured an order for Lady to run. 

They’d met with Vance and many of the others who had been hunting and Sansa had to shut her eyes at the cries of those who realized that they had lost all their elderly and the children too young to join the hunt. 

“No one is left?” Mance asked quietly as Sansa helped Dalla down. 

“No, it was slaughter. We need to be moving,” Sansa whispered back harshly, pushing aside all feelings for the time being. 

Mance nodded, “Aye, we make for Frostfangs.”

“This will be happening everywhere, Mance,” Val added as they began to lead their people away.

Mance grunted, “Maybe now they will listen.”

Sansa was sitting before the fire, Lady beside her, working her needle through the last of the seal skin that had come at the same time as the whale blubber that Val was stirring to render over the low flame. There was not much brought by the last traveler and Sansa knew this would be the last they would receive here. 

It would not be long until they’d made their bid to make it over the wall. There had been rumors of ill tidings in the kingdom of the kneelers. A king dead, rebellion, and only little Starks in Winterfell. 

Over the last moon, Mance had taught her all he could of the world below the wall. 

He said just in case, but Sansa could read his wishes between the words unspoken. 

In case all else fails, use her name to the best of her ability, and take care of their people. 

The tent flap few open and they all looked up, Sansa’s hand automatically reaching for the spear she kept beside her at all times now. Lady was up on her feet as well and lips already pulled back in a snarl. 

“Ygritte!” she exclaimed as the girl came in and eyes settled on Mance. Sansa settled back down into her chair when she realized there was no immediate danger. 

“What is it? Why are you back?” Mance gruffly asked. 

Ygritte hesitated only momentarily before stating, “I brought a crow. Says he has forsworn his vows and wishes to join our people.”

Sansa watched as Mance’s eyebrows raised, “Well, bring him in.”

Ygritte hesitated again, “He has a wolf like our girl. Big old white thing with red eyes. Says it's the companion of members of his family.”

Sansa stood again, her spear dropping to a clatter this time as she grabbed at the fabric of her tunic. 

“He’s a Stark?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

Ygritte grunted in agreement, “Said something about natural and true, but I couldn’t tell you what his lips were flappin’ about. Seemed to be important to him though.”

“He’s a natural born son of House Stark. The bastard brought back from the war against the Targaryen’s by the Warden of the North,” Mance mused before adding, “Your half brother. I don’t remember his name.”

“Jon,” Sansa murmured as Ygritte answered as well, “Snow, Jon Snow.”

Sansa looked up with wide-eyes. She remembered his name and suddenly a young boy was in front of her young self with dark curly hair and solemn eyes. The same spectral boy she dreamt of on a nightly basis. She had thought him nought but her imagination. 

“You should not climb that, Lady Sansa. Your mother would be quite cross.” 

Then before she could say another word, a man was coming through the tent flap. Sansa’s breath caught as she knew without a doubt that this was the man from her dreams. This was Jon Snow, her brother, and she realized without a doubt that he was her downfall. 

She felt her heart beat faster, her palms growing sweaty, and when his eyes met hers Sansa was lost in the darkness. 

“It...it can’t be,” her crow brother whispered as his eyes darted to Lady and back up, “Sansa?” 

“Hello Jon,” she responded without thinking and then she could think no more as she was swept into strong arms and she was inhaling deep the scent of her kin. 

-----------

Sansa stared at Mance with a gaping mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” she bit out. 

Mance did not look impressed, “Absolutely so. Every leader, chieftain, and speaker has decided. I have stepped back and you are the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall.” 

Sansa shook her head fiercely. 

She’d spent the last three days just getting to know her brother. She’d already decided to steal him for her own as soon as the chance arose. After all, he was only her half-brother, and it was not unheard of among the Freefolk. 

Menfolk were sometimes in low commodity and surviving had been more important than the sharing of a parent. 

Still, Jon was sweet, if a bit naive. 

Ygritte had told her of her advances on Jon on the way to Frostfangs and she didn’t quite believe the man was truthful in his defection. This surprised Sansa not one bit. She had already come to that opinion in the three days she’d spent with him. 

It was only the wildness in his eyes and the obvious wish for the freedom of her people that burned in him brightly that kept Sansa from truly speaking out about his duplicity. Brother or not, she had an entire people to protect from the crows and those below the wall. 

“This is a mistake,” Sansa finally muttered. 

Mance shook his head, “No. This is the only way to get most of us past the wall with little to no bloodshed.” 

Sansa snorted in derision, “Whether the slaughter happens this side of the wall or once we’ve settled in some nice little field and are betrayed, the kneelers will betray us,” then she sat on a stool and lowered her face into her hands. 

“Are we even positive that Jon can help? That he will be listened to?” she asked quietly, at almost a whisper. 

Mance made an encouraging noise and sat down in front of her, “They say his brother became a king before dying and that the entirety of the kingdom is at war. We will take back proof of the dead and show the watch. I am hopeful your presence will encourage less hostility. If they decide to be fuckers all around, then I’ll take the people over the wall the way we planned and take the castle.” 

Sansa sighed and stood again, “Then I suppose I should explain the truth of things to Jon. I get the feeling he expects to return me to the stone houses to wear pretty dresses and sew little pieces of cloth with no purpose all day.” 

Mance chuckled and leaned in and kissed her forehead. She turned and went to join her brother in the tent they’d been keeping him in. 

She could not help but laugh when she entered and found Tormund and Ygritte keeping guard. Jon had apparently said or done something they didn’ t appreciate, because he was trussed up like one of the wild boars they hadn’t seen in years. 

She pulled her knife from her belt and slipped it through the ropes at his wrist. She gave him a leering smile and watched, pleased, as he turned the same color as her hair. 

“Leave us,” she demanded and didn’t bother to look and see if they obeyed. The soft falls of feet and the fabric flapping closed gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Will your crows listen?” she demanded and Jon looked at her confused. 

She huffed in response, “Your crow people and the southerner’s, will they listen when we tell them of the dead and allow us to give proof. The wall holds for now, but that will not be forever. It will fall and when it does then this is all of our problems. If you leave my people to fall behind the wall then the force that rises will be unstoppable.” 

“Sansa, you are a Stark. The last living Stark as far as I know and the Lady of Winterfell,” her crow kin told her and Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I am the Queen-Beyond-the-Wall, chosen by my people here, and I will not forsake them for stone walls and kneeling sycophants,” she muttered. 

“You're the Queen? I thought Mance…,” Jon began but Sansa held up a hand to stop him. 

This time he glared at her and Sansa resisted the urge to snarl back at him. 

“I am now the Queen. The people decided just this morning and I will be the one to deal with your people. Now, answer my question and none of this manure about you supporting the freefolk. We are not stupid and you might have the heart to be free, but your mind is terribly chained up,” Sansa demanded. 

Then Jon motioned for her to sit. Sansa moved to sit and crossed her legs underneath her and they began to hammer out an accord. 

--------

Four moons later,  Sansa found herself sitting across from a man with a sterner face than any she’d ever seen. 

“You are a Stark and I am your rightful King,” the man said gruffly. 

Sansa sniffed, “I choose to be Freefolk and I am their chosen Queen. I cannot be this Stark you want to put in that stone cage and you cannot be my King. We are not married and your wife is unlikely to take kindly to the idea of you taking another one.” 

The man called Stannis, who she had taken to just calling the Southern King in her head, was now resembling one of the fish with whiskers that she’d been served since coming through the wall. 

“Put my brother in it. He seems to be fond of stone cages,” she added. 

“He’s a bastard,” the wannabe king growled. 

Sansa barked out a laugh, “You think these Northern people will accept a Stark raised as Freefolk over a bastard raised as a Stark? You must be stupider than you look. Make my brother this Lord Stark and offer my people the right to live below the wall if they fight for you and this chair you want so badly without kneeling. They’ll agree to follow the law of these lands while we are here and will allow Jon to be the direct voice to yourself. I speak for my people to Jon and he speaks for me to you. Problem solved.” 

She stated her demands and leaned back in the chair, folding her hands in her lap, and just stared at the man.  

“Your father…,” he began again, but she didn’t even let him make another excuse. 

Sansa stood and turned to walk out. She looked back over her shoulder before she exited. 

“I do not remember my father, nor my mother, nor most of my siblings. Apparently there were two I never even met. Appealing to my sense of familial ties will do nothing but frustrate me. Give me what my people need and we have a deal. Otherwise, there is no reason to send for me again.”

With that Sansa exited the room as calmly as she could. She stopped briefly on the outside and listed as the fire witch spoke to Stannis. 

“I believe she is correct. We now know where the war truly is,” the woman said. 

Stannis made a noise of derision, “Her brother already turned down my pardon of his vows, legitimisation, and being the Warden of the North. I need to place a Stark back in Winterfell or I will never draw enough support to take the throne. We need the kingdom to fight this damn war you are speaking of.”

“Then do as the fire commanded,” the woman responded. 

“Now see here,” the man that Stannis called his Hand, though Sansa did not understand why he needed someone’s else’s when he had two himself that worked just fine, “You can’t just marry a man to his sister, half or prophesied, regardless.” 

Sansa wanted to choke. What had her idiot kin done now? 

Swallowing hard, she marched off to find Jon. 

------------

“I made a vow,” Jon was now glaring at her and Sansa was getting rather tired of people glaring at her and speaking to her of words that were someone more important than doing what was necessary to survive. 

She gave him an unimpressed look, “So, did the majority of the men in this stone cage currently, but they sure seem to enjoy getting their cock wet with my spearwives.” 

“Do you know the whole of what is being asked, Sansa? Or are you going to stand there and lecture me? Marriage, Sansa, he wants us to marry,” Jon growled out and Sansa stood to meet him when he began to move away. 

She pressed her hands into his chest and pushed back with all his strength, “You will listen to me, Jon Snow. You made a vow to protect the realm of men. Staying on this stupid wall, freezing, with a bunch of other stupid men is not going to keep this realm safe. You all already apparently forgot who the actual enemy the wall was built to stop was, nevertheless leaving my people as fodder to build an army the likes of which you’ve never seen. Taking Winterfell and Stannis’s offer, regardless of what it is, will protect the realm of men.”

Jon gaped at her, speechless, and Sansa took it as a sign to do something. She stepped closer, not letting him escape her gaze, and pressed her lips against his. He made a sound that reminded her of a dying man’s last breath, before suddenly kissing her back with a fury. Sansa gasped as he lifted her and sat her upon the table. 

She had just managed to get her fingers under his leathers and was about to yank at laces when he stepped back with a panicked look on his face. Sansa wanted to scream at his ridiculous morals. 

He turned to run from the room, but she stood swiftly and passed him, sweeping her leg under his to send him sprawling down. She slammed the door closed and bolted it. Looking around, Sansa made herself not grumble at the lack of furs or a bed. 

Beds were the thing she could grow used to the most. Although Jon had said the beds here were nothing like in this Winterfell. Sansa could not imagine anything softer. 

She looked down at Jon and reached behind her to undo her laces. 

“Sansa…” he said hoarsely, staring up at her. Sansa ignored the plea in his eyes and let her dress fall from her shoulders. 

The dress had been a juxtaposition of painful and enjoyable of being below the wall instead of behind it. She’d run her fingers over the soft material when it had been gifted to her to wear instead of her leather breeches and fur jerkins. She thought Val would have liked it, for all the girl would have argued. 

She’d have liked the monstrosity they called a bathtub too.

It all made Sansa incredibly uncomfortable at the reminders of what she had been born into and sometimes, in the darkest part of night, she could see the sweet, innocent, stupid thing she would have been. She both was grateful to not be her and mournful of what could have been. 

“Now, if you can truly say you do not want me, then I will redress and walk out of this room. If you cannot honestly admit that, though, then I’m taking you for my husband, you’re taking the offer of this Stannis, and we’re going to let my people behind the wall,” She murmured as she knelt in front of him, her braid falling over her shoulder and brushing against the top of her breast. 

She watched his eyes track the movement and grinned at the heat in his eyes. She knew without a doubt that Ygritte had been correct. Jon was definitely a pure man and Sansa ignored the heat that flooded her core, causing her to grow quickly wet, at the thought that he was going to be her man to have. 

No one else would have him again, unless she was dead and buried. She’d had lovers before, occasionally a spearwife and at times a man from another clan, but never one she wanted to keep. 

Jon was staring at her still, this time with some sort of worshipful awe, when her fingers reached to his breaches and unlaced him. 

“Sansa,” he whispered, this time more like whispered words of love. 

She pulled him free and pulled herself over him to straddle. Lowering herself slowly, Sansa sat on his cock and groaned at the stretch of his girth. She wondered if these Southern boys compared cocks the way the youth of the freefolk did and if Jon realized how blessed the gods had been to him. 

She comforted herself with the knowledge that she was helping him break his vows as it would be a travesty to waste such a cock. She began to move her hips in a languid, smooth motion, rocking against him hard on the downfall to press her button into his groin. She added a longer roll as she grew hotter and hotter. 

Then without warning, Jon decided to be an active participant. He surged up, hand cupping the back of her head, as he moved them over. Sansa was pleased to find he had unclipped his cloak and she was now laid out against it. She moaned in pleasure as he immediately set to fucking into her. 

Then his mouth was against hers and she was shoving her own hips up to meet his furious pace. Sansa chased the feeling that was building inside of her and she refused to allow his control to stop her pleasure. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled it down to her button and pressed against his palm as she felt his cock inside of her as she ground upwards. 

“Sansa,” Jon groaned as she felt herself begin falling. 

“Jon!” she screamed as pleasure ripped through her body and she felt him respond to her own cry with wetness flooding inside of her. 

She prepared for him to collapse on top of her as most men she’d taken her pleasure from were apt to do. She found herself moved and cradled against him as he laid back on the floor. 

“I don’t know if Ygritte explained how this works, but I took you for my husband,” she said succinctly and dared him to argue with her stare. 

He sighed and looked over at her, “Our father and your mother will probably crawl out of their graves to kill me, but aye, I accept you as my wife. The North will not love this, but they will accept it to get a Stark back in Winterfell. Now, I can take my wife’s name instead of legitimation from Stannis. That will make them even more accepting. We have to take Winterfell first, though. Without Winterfell we will not be seen as legitimate. They might balk a southern king releasing me from my vows.”

Sansa sighed against him. The man knew nothing of bed talk. Sitting up she pulled him after her. If he wanted to talk business then they should get to it. 

Cutting her eyes back over to view his backside before she slid her dress over her head, Sansa also thought that the sooner they finished the business then they could get back to the fucking. 

A voice inside her head added, and baby making. 

------------

They meet with Stannis...it’s about as enjoyable as Sansa had imagined. They reach an accord. 

They go beyond the wall and speak to her people about the agreement to help take back the Northern key that was supposed to be her birthright and then the truly southern city where Stannis has his stupid chair. Then Stannis will bring the full force of the kingdom North to handle the enemy beyond the wall. That discussion is even less enjoyable with much yelling and even one clan defecting completely and leaving. 

Sansa says a prayer to the old gods that they find their way to somehow burn in one of the red witch’s fires before they join the army of the dead. Stupid fools. 

Stannis and Jon both choke when she tells them that there are at least 85,000 fighting men and women. The rest are too old to be an asset or too young to understand how to tell the difference between two living enemies. 

They both insist the women don’t fight and Sansa plans to ignore them. If the enemy doesn’t care about killing women, why should they care about fighting them? 

Finally, they send ravens. So many ravens and Sansa is astounded how the birds manage to find the people and return with a warg to guide and control them. Jon is astounded to learn that wargs exist and that he has the ability. He does it regularly with Ghost but had thought it was a dream. Sansa and he both begin to learn together with a freefolk skinchanger. 

Jon and her marry before the red witch in part of their agreement with Stannis and Jon is released from his vows to the watch and officially becomes Jon Stark. Then they wed again before the heart tree beyond the wall and Sansa imagines for a moment that her forgotten parents are watching. 

Mance, Dalla, Val, and Ygritte are there in the flesh though and Mance tells her later, when they are all huddled around a fire, that he is proud of the free woman she is. Dalla and he both ask if something happens to them that she takes care of Val and the baby Dalla has yet to birth. 

She drags him back to the heart tree alone and vows before it that she will save as many as she can, but she will watch for Val and the unborn babe with every breath she has. 

He is the only father she can remember. 

Her people agree, as long as they are allowed to have the truth north back as soon as the final war is over and it not be a part of the southern kingdom. They will not kneel. 

Sansa will not give her crown until the war is over and her people are safe. 

By then it would not be necessary as her people would have no need for one when they are free in their home and not in danger of the dead. 

Jon and she share a bed every night and Sansa is pleased to learn that her husband is a quick study. She also thinks her men are sharing ways to please a woman, because he attacks her center with fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth that is clumsy, but not knowledgeable in the fundamentals. 

If she was the type of woman she was born to be, she’d demure her eyes and shyly thank the wives of the men. She’s not that woman though and she makes sure her own clan of people receive three casts of the shit ale the night watch’s call a drink and leads the toast herself. Ygritte claims the majority of the thanks. 

She will never tire of Jon’s blush. 

Two men and a boy try to kill her husband by tricking him into an ambush, claiming his uncle has survived. 

She calls bullshit and when the idiot tries to go rushing down, she draws her blade and motions for the ten men and women she’d chosen to guard her and her husband follow. She’d thought it ridiculous when Stannis told her that she should have an honor guard of some sort since he was recognizing her as a queen and it was only proper. 

Her own clan had sent ten forward without hesitancy. Ygritte and Tormund among them. 

Ygritte is the one who shoots the boy, her husband’s steward, when Jon cannot do it. He cries into her breast that night and Sansa runs her fingers through his hair and comforts him the best she can. 

Tormund somehow decides that her husband should be brought closer to her people after this and begins to heckle him at every opportunity. Sansa finds them fighting in the yard most mornings now. 

Jon fits her people more than he wishes to admit. Sansa tries not to think of the day they will send them back beyond the wall. 

They begin the march to Winterfell. A winter storm takes them by surprise, but the Freefolk laugh at the southern men in Stannis’s army. Very few Northmen answered their call, but Sansa is not particularly surprised. Jon is only half Stark and she was raised among the Freefolk. Even together they won’t draw the North to them until they sit in Winterfell and the dead is more known. 

The freefolk begin to teach the southerners how to best pad their armor and they stop before dusk every night and her people train them how to move on snow and ice. Stannis, his hand, and witch take dinner every night with Jon, Sansa, and Mance. 

It’s an odd group, but they make it work. 

Melisandre is oddly good at helping keep everyone focused on the real war. She watches Jon in a way that Sansa is not happy about, however. It was on one of the later nights that Melisandre finally addressed whatever it was she had been pondering. Stannis and the others were already abed in their tents and it was only her guard, Jon, and Melisandre left around the fire. 

“Your mother, do you know who your mother was?” the witch asked and Sansa resisted the urge to scratch her eyes out when her husband almost immediately became sullen. It was a particular talent of his. 

“No, My Lady, Lord Stark never deemed it the time. He promised he would the next I saw him, but you know what happened with that,” Jon said quietly. 

Sansa’s eyes narrowed as Melisandre stood and asked for his hand. Jon, the stupid fool, didn’t hesitate and then yelped when Melisandre obviously pierced him in the palm. She was sopping the blood up with a scrap of fabric before he could move back and Sansa stood angrily. 

The witch just held up her hand and walked to the fire with the fabric before anyone could say anything. 

“For the night is dark and full of terrors,” the witch murmured and tossed the cloth in. 

Sansa could not help but find herself intrigued as the fire almost doubled in size and suddenly there were images. Jon and a short, blond woman standing before huge beast’s that could only be dragons. Jon wearing black and red and flying on the dragon. Then nothing. 

She looked to Melisandre, who looked back at both of them before sighing. 

“I fear that I might have misinterpreted the flames in regards to Stannis,” the woman said as if announcing what she wanted for breakfast, “It’s you who is our prince or the girl.” 

“Who was that woman?” Sansa asked. 

Melisandre sat and began to draw in the sand a rudimentary symbol of three creatures wrapped around one another. 

Jon whispered, “House Targaryen. That is their sigil.”

“Yes, Jon, and the only interpretation left to us is that you are a member of said house, or atleast of their blood. That woman was Daenerys Targaryen, the lost Targaryen Princess, who swears to return to Westeros with fire and blood to reclaim what she says is hers.” Melisandre finished. 

Sansa raised an eyebrow, “Well, don’t be telling Stannis that. You’ve told him that he was the promised one or some other rot. Best to let him keep thinking that.” 

“Lyanna Stark is my mother,” Jon whispered and Sansa looked at him in confusion. 

Jon swallowed hard, “Lyanna was your father’s sister. They say Rhaegar Targaryen took her away and our Uncle Brandon and Grandfather went to King’s Landing to demand her back. Aerys...oh gods, he was my grandfather...burned them alive before demanding that Jon Arryn bring him the heads of your father and Robert Baratheon. It’s why they went to war and deposed him...deposed House Targaryen.” 

“Deposed or not, you are Targaryen and Stark, the culmination of the song of ice and fire,” Melisandre said, “Your blood is the blood of kings, the blood of the dragon.” 

“I am not a dragon,” Jon snarled and stood with such a quickness and fury that Sansa found herself preparing for battle, “I am the bastard of a deposed house that holds no right to anything in Westeros unless this Daenerys Targaryen returns to conquer it again. It will not be me.” 

Melisandre hummed under her breath and Sansa watched the witch consider his words with a sense of trepidation. Sansa reached into her skirts to put her fingers on her knife. If the witch made to do something that would expose her husband, then Sansa would slit her throat before she could speak it. 

“Yes,  My Lord Stark. You have married into the house of wolves and therefore, I suppose, you are not a dragon any longer. There would be no reason to discourage King Stannis from battle and if Daenerys Targaryen returns, R’hllor will bless the one who is supposed to sit the Iron Throne,” Melisandre finally said and with a quick dip of her own skirts, she moved to head back to her tent. 

Sansa let her fingers fall from the hilt and went to stand before her husband and cousin. This made her think of something and so she reached up to cup his head. 

“Now you don’t have to worry the Gods will strike you down for fucking your sister, cousin. Do these southerner’s marry cousins?” she said with a smile and grinned when he choked in surprise and met her eyes. 

“You do realize your still in the north beneath the wall?” he asked incredulously. 

Sansa snorted, “The North is not a place, it’s a people, and those people are the Freefolk. There might be some among the kneeler’s whose heart is Northern and for that they are more my people, than Stannis’s or this Dragon Aunt Lady.”

Sansa tartly turned and made way back to their tents.

-----------

They were crossing beside a large lake when Sansa thought to ask. 

“How did this Theon Greyjoy take Winterfell if it is as large a fortress as you say it is?” 

She was sandwiched in between Stannis and Jon, riding a grey garron that was older, but sturdy. Melisandre, Mance, and Davos behind them. 

“Trickery,” Jon muttered, “He had a force attack a nearby vassal and when Winterfell sent the majority of their fighting men to stop it, Theon led a small group over the wall and took the keep.” 

Sansa hummed, “And this Dreadfort, the Bolton’s own keep is not but a bit over 100 leagues from here?” 

“Yes…” Jon said cautiously and Sansa could see that he recognized something in her face, “What are you thinking?”

Sansa thought of her men and the number they said were at Winterfell. There could not be many left at the Bolton’s keep, but these southerner’s seemed very attached to their stone houses. 

“Could we not do something similar? Surely this Roose and Ramsey have heard of our army marching, but they might not know it is made up mainly of my people. They probably assume it to be your own army and one not used to fighting battle in this terrain. Send a group of my own to take this Dreadfort and draw these pretenders from Winterfell. They would easily be taken care of by ambush on the journey between Winterfell and their own ancestral stones. Then we take a smaller contingent and take back Winterfell,” she said aloud and tried to ignore the way Jon was staring at her. 

“You would have us be as dishonorable as a filthy ironborn?” Stannis said incredulously. 

Sansa could not help but roll her eyes, ”I’d see as few of our combined men and women die as possible so that we may better survive the long night, but call it what you will. I care not for your southern ideals of morals beyond a night’s enjoyment of listening to pretty songs and fables.”

“Lord Stark was honorable, Robb was honorable and it got their heads cut from their body and practically destroyed the North. I say we go with Sansa. Roose Bolton broke guestright and his own oath to his King, he has no honor to be dishonored,” Jon quietly said. 

Stannis was quiet for a bit and Sansa wondered what demons of his own he was fighting in his head. Then he turned and looked at Jon, before sighing. 

“Select your men that will go to the Dreadfort, Queen Sansa. I will do the same among mine. You know Winterfell best, Lord Stark, so you select the contingency that will take the keep once the men are gone,” Stannis gritted out as if being forced to say the words. Then he turned and galloped back. 

----------

It was nearly a moon more when a large number of the Bolton forces left Winterfell and marched towards the Dreadfort. There were forty of her people with her and several men Jon had chosen hiding among the thickness of the recent snow. They made way carefully at the hour of the wolf.

It took no time at all to catch the walls with their hooks and scale the wall. 

Sansa took great amusement in the idea that they were taking back her ancestral home the same way they had originally planned to scale the wall itself. She watched amused as Jon kept her behind him and they made their way further in. 

Her people made quick work of all watchmen that came near before they began to move into the keep that Jon pointed out. It was when they were in what appeared to be the living quarters of the family that Sansa had her first moment of recognition. A woman with hair a similar shade as her own was standing in front of Sansa and curly haired boy and waving her finger. Sansa knew it was her mother and she could almost hear a soft, singing voice in the back of her head. 

Shaking herself out of her memory, Sansa stopped at the end of a hall and motioned for two of her people to go forward and kill the men standing guard in front of a specific set of chambers. They made quick work and the men did not even have a chance to raise an alarm of any type of sound. 

She stood by Jon, who had drawn his sword, as their people busted through the double doors. 

A rather pretty, but thick woman jumped from the bed as an older man did the same. His hand went immediately to a crossbow, but Tormund threw a blade to pierce at the palm of the man. 

“Who the…” the man began but was pressed into the floor onto his knees. 

“Take the woman and find a place to secure her until this is over,” Jon ordered as he stepped forward with Longclaw. He looked at the man on his knees and then around the room. His hand reaching out to caress the wooden bed frame. Sansa realized it was a carved wolf and she wondered if this had been her parent’s chambers. 

“Do you know who I am?” her husband asked as he stepped forward into the light of the moon shining through a window. The man glared and took him in from head to toe. 

“You must be the bastard. You're too old to be any of the others if they had been still alive. Did you break your vows to the wall to be here?” he said in a low voice. 

Sansa finally just laughed, the dramatics of everything was too much. 

“He is Lord Stark, but you should be more worried about me,” she said with a light voice as she stepped forward.

“Stannis named you Lord and legitimized you. The north will never follow a bastard,” the man ignored her and continued to stare at Jon. Sansa narrowed her own eyes as responded again, not giving Jon a chance to speak. 

“My name is Sansa Stark, Lord Bolton, I presume?” she icily demanded and when the man’s eyes widened. 

“Good,” she answered at his obvious identity when the man refused to speak, “I was planning to let Jon just cut off your head since he thinks that's the way to do this, but I think we might see how you’ve been treating the people here that served the Starks. Let’s see if your House has lived up to its words. You see, even my people, go around your lands when escaping the land of always winter. I think after we discover the worst of what you have done here, then we will do the same.”

With that Sansa stepped forward one more time and brought her foot down hard against his face. Roose Bolton fell to the ground in a heap. 

“Secure him until we finish sweeping the keep and clearing it out of Bolton men,” Jon ordered, “And open the gates to the rest of our people.” 

Hours later, Sansa and Jon stood facing one another in the rooms that had been her parents. Staring into her eyes,  Jon pulled her tight against him and pressed his lips to hers in a fevered kiss. 

“Winterfell is yours, Lord Stark,” Sansa whispered against them. 

Jon made a noise of discouragement, “No, My Queen, Winterfell is yours as is my heart, now and always.”

-----------

It was almost three years later when Sansa stood before her father's statue in the Stark Crypts. It would not be long now till her husband and herself would return to their people beyond the wall. They still called her queen and Sansa would honor their choice everyday of her life. Jon's responsibility to the North would soon be over and they could be free. Between bringing the North the heel in time to prepare for the dead, Jon and her people attempting to help Stannis take the throne only for him and many of his people to be blown up on ships, and reminding a dragon queen that it really did not matter if the North knelt or not since the dead were coming for them all. Sansa grinned as she remembered Jon standing before the black glass throne and telling it to the woman's face that she was welcome to take her people back across the sea if she wanted to wait to die where it was warmer. 

Then the green dragon slamming in front of Jon and putting his wing down and the secret being blown. Thankfully the dragon queen had played nice till after the long night and when Sansa refused to kneel to her, Jon took to the skies with Rhaegal. By the time the fight was over, both Drogon and the dragon queen were dead and Jon encouraged Daenerys's people to leave with Rhaegal. They were not happy, but they did as they were bid, except for the Dothraki left. They seemed to think that Jon's battle meant that he was their new Khal. Jon and Sansa just combined them with their own people and sent them beyond the wall. 

Then the great rebuilding began and continued until the day a raven came that announced that Cersei Lannister was dead, along with the remaining Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, and several other members of the small council. 

A crunching noise drew her attention back to the present. 

“When the snows fall and white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”

The girl that spoke to Sansa was a brunette with short cropped hair and she held a small sword and wore breeches. There was a familiar look in her grey eyes and Sansa tilted her head as she considered the strange girl who had come upon her in the crypts of her bloodkin. 

Ygritte stood back in the shadows and Sansa knew she had her bow out with an arrow knocked, but Sansa held her hand out to stay any sudden shots. 

The girl laughed. 

“I will not hurt your freefolk guard, although this place is for Starks and Stark blood alone. You are the lost Stark daughter, arrived home as the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall. Do you know who I am?” 

Sansa felt herself smile, probably showing a little too much teeth, “Grey eyes as serious as a widow made five-times-over having her sixth husband die mysteriously, what appears to be more brashness than commonsense, and a wild look about you that reminds me of my husband’s fury when his aunt tried to kill us after the long night?”

She paused and stepped closer, “That would make you my supposedly dead sister, Arya.”

The girl tilted her head and considered Sansa, “You are not what I expected. The septa always said I was never enough of a lady and it was a shame that you had disappeared as you were nothing but a lady.” 

Sansa barked out a laugh, “There’s not room for ladies beyond the wall. Welcome home, Arya. My husband, your cousin, will be glad of your survival. Bran came home before the long night and Rickon was brought home by a fat lord from the sea.” 

“Lord Manderly, I heard. I’m sorry I didn’t make it home before the battle that happened. I did not hear of it until it was over and I was in King’s Landing,” Arya murmured as they turned and made way from the crypts. 

Sansa’s eyebrow raised, “What were you doing in King’s Landing?” 

“Killing a queen. That last name on my final list before coming home,” Arya said as they climbed out and into the coolness of the spring night, “Is it true that Jon and you are going back beyond the wall once Rickon is settled in as King in the North with Bran as his regent?”

Sansa startled at her sister’s knowledge, “Aye, Jon and I will be returning North to settle our people now that the threat is gone. It seems that enough of the old guard died that we will perhaps be able to establish some sort of relations beyond the wall and North Westeros.”

“Can I come with you?” Arya said as they entered the keep. 

Sansa smiled as a shout came from the head table and her husband began rushing forward. 

“I think I would like that. Who better to help the bond between the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall and the King in the North than a sister of them both,” Sansa managed to answer as Arya was immediately swept away from her side and into her husband's arms. 

[potatowitch]

Hawke as Companion

Template by @little-lightning-lavellan

Is your OC a Companion in the Dragon Age series? What would it be like for a player to select them to join their party for quests (or romance them, perhaps? 👀)

I did originally plan on doing this for my Inquisitor but, as always, I've got Hawke brainrot instead, and I figured writing some companion interactions would be so much more interesting with her as a companion than my Lavellan. This got .... very long.

You have selected RIAN to join your party!

Race: HUMAN

Gender: FEMALE

Class: MAGE

Specialization: BLOOD MAGE

BACKGROUND

Marian Elaine Hawke, known also as “Rian”, “Chuckles”, “Champion of Kirkwall” and “Hawke, NO” was born in 9:06 Dragon to Malcolm and Leandra Hawke. Despite having to keep her father's magic a secret, she was never led to believe that magic was anything but a gift. Therefore, she spent much of her younger years experimenting to see if she could produce magic, eventually managing at age 9 to light the fireplace with a tiny fireball.

Growing up, she was attached to Malcolm at the hip - the two of them shared not only their magic but their senses of humor and general chaotic energy.

After the Hawke family fled Lothering during the Blight, Hawke joined Athenril’s smugglers to pay off her entry into Kirkwall. As soon as she met Varric at the start of Act 1, they became inseparable best friends - Hawke often cites Varric as her soulmate and the platonic love of her life. During the Deep Roads expedition, Carver became infected with the Blight, and with the help of Anders, Hawke was able to lead him to the Grey Wardens so he could join their ranks.

Over the years, she developed close relationships with most of her companions except for Aveline and Sebastian. Her friendship with Merrill eventually developed into a committed romance, and Hawke started to practice blood magic after recognising that Merrill could do so without being "evil". The two of them eventually also developed feelings for Isabela, and as such she joined their romance as well.

By Act 3, Hawke had become a staunch supporter of mage rights, a dedicated member of the Underground, and wholeheartedly supported Anders’ choice to destroy Kirkwall’s Chantry.

Following the destruction of the Chantry, Hawke and her friends fled Kirkwall, splitting up despite Hawke desperately wanting them to remain together. Isabela and Merrill chose to remain with Hawke, and the three of them traveled across the Free Marches, occasionally running into Anders and assisting him in rescuing mages from rebelling Circles. Eventually, Isabela managed to acquire a new crew, and her partners were more than happy to sail with her as she established herself once again as the Queen of the Eastern Seas.

INQUISITION

Depending on the player’s choices in Here Lies The Abyss, Hawke can be convinced to stay and help the Inquisition further instead of accompanying the remaining Wardens to Weisshaupt, becoming a full companion. She will move to sit with Varric by the fire in the main hall. Hawke will also be present in Varric’s companion cutscene where he invites the Inquisitor to play Wicked Grace.

Upon first being recruited to the Inquisition, Hawke’s specialisation is not available - when automatically leveled, she will put points primarily into the Inferno and Storm trees. Her unique specialisation, Blood Mage, only becomes available if the Inquisitor has allied with the mages at Redcliffe. At that point, Hawke will initiate a conversation with the Inquisitor about their opinions on blood magic, and if the Inquisitor states that they have no problem with it, her specialisation will open. Otherwise, she will refuse to admit her use of blood magic to the Inquisitor.

At this point, Hawke will also speak more openly about her support of Anders. She will eventually admit that they are still in contact, though she won't tell the Inquisitor anything that could give them an idea of Anders’ whereabouts.

Her specialisation is not open to the Inquisitor, however Hawke can offer to teach a mage Inquisitor "a neat trick", which will give the player the choice to replace their current Focus ability with Hawke's.

BLOOD MAGE

Upon unlocking Hawke's specialisation, she will gain a large increase to her Constitution but her mana bar will become considerably shorter, and conventional healing effects will only operate at 25% efficiency. If she is out of mana, she will automatically revert to using her health pool to power her spells instead.

Her spell tree is very similar to the Dragon Age 2 Blood Mage tree, however it does not include the Blood Slave ability - it is instead replaced with Blood Bomb, which is a variant of Walking Bomb. Instead of applying a damage over time curse to a target, Hawke channels a spell that corrupts the targets' blood from the inside until the target dies - at which point they explode, doing damage to nearby enemies. This spell continually consumes Hawke's mana and health while it is being channeled.

Her Focus ability is Major Sacrifice, a variant of the Knight-Enchanter's Resurgence. Instead of healing the party to full health and providing an ongoing healing aura, Major Sacrifice will instead heal the party to full health but take 25% of Hawke's current health, and will provide an aura of ongoing damage to nearby enemies, converting their health into health for the party.

VARRIC'S PERSONAL QUEST IN VALAMMAR

If the Inquisitor brings Hawke to Valammar, she will be suspiciously quiet throughout the quest - though she will pipe up to complain about the Darkspawn. Following the reveal that Bianca shared the location of the thaig, Hawke will be furious and will argue with her.

Upon returning to Skyhold and speaking to Varric, the cutscene will begin in the middle of a conversation between him and Hawke.

HAWKE: You deserve better, you know. VARRIC: Yeah, you've said that before. HAWKE: It bears repeating. As many times as it takes to get it through your thick head. You deserve so much better. VARRIC: *sigh* Thanks, Chuckles.

APPROVAL AND ROMANCE

Hawke is not romanceable, though she welcomes playful flirting from a female Inquisitor. She will eventually initiate a conversation where she makes sure the Inquisitor isn't expecting the flirting to go anywhere further, as she is already in a relationship.

RIAN APPROVES OF: Supporting mage freedom, open-mindedness with magic and spirits, sarcasm, humor, stealing from nobility, pranking nobility, loyalty to your friends, being nice to Varric, terrible puns.

RIAN DISAPPROVES OF: Chantry rhetoric, the Circles, Templars, Tranquility, authority, betraying your friends, ignorance, pomposity, being mean to Varric.

Hawke will not leave the Inquisition, even if her approval is at Hostile. When questioned about this, she will say:

HAWKE: Did you miss the part where Corypheus is my responsibility? I’m going to fix my fuck-up, Inquisitor. If I have to put up with you while I do it, then, well … I’ve always said the Maker has a sick sense of humor.

TRESPASSER

Following Corypheus' defeat, Hawke leaves the Inquisition to rejoin Merrill and Isabela.

Once Trespasser is started, Hawke can be found accompanying Varric and Bran to the Winter Palace.

During exploration of the Eluvians, if both Hawke and Varric are in the party, they will briefly discuss how excited Merrill would be by all this, and Hawke will say "You'd better be writing all this down, Varric."

She will approve of redeeming Solas, though she won't disapprove if the Inquisitor decides they would rather kill him.

High Approval

If Varric has chosen to give the Inquisitor an estate in Kirkwall, Hawke will pipe up during the conversation saying she's excited to be neighbors, offering to give the Inquisitor the key to her wine cellar - though she will complain that Varric has never given her control of the harbor, to which Bran will mutter "thank the Maker".

Regardless of the Inquisition's fate, Hawke will return to her lovers, occasionally keeping in touch with the Inquisitor via letters.

Low Approval

If the Inquisitor has low approval with Hawke, they will be informed that she left as soon as the Inquisitor stepped back out of the Eluvian following the final confrontation with Solas. The epilogue slides will state that her whereabouts are, once again, unknown.

COMBAT COMMENTS

Killing an enemy

And stay down!

One more for me. We’re keeping score, right?

Have at you!

How’s my hair looking? (COMBAT ENDS)

I wonder what’s in their pockets. (COMBAT ENDS)

Oh, ew. I’m not cleaning that up. (COMBAT ENDS)

Low Health

This is going badly!

Little help, maybe?

Why are none of you healers?

This hurts! This really hurts!

Low Health (Companions)

INQUISITOR: You good over there, boss?

VARRIC: Varric, that blood better not be yours!

COLE: Help the kid!

CASSANDRA: They’re swarming the Seeker!

BLACKWALL: Hang on, Beardy!

IRON BULL: Bull’s in trouble!

Fallen Companions

INQUISITOR: Shit! Trevelyan/Lavellan/Adaar/Cadash is down!

VARRIC: Don’t you dare leave me now, Varric!

COLE: Cole! No!

CASSANDRA: Seeker is down! How did they manage that?

SOLAS: Come on, Solas!

DORIAN: Help Dorian!

SERA: Awful quiet, isn’t it? Oh shit, Sera!

LOCATION COMMENTS

(first time seeing a High Dragon) *laughing* "Oh, this will be fun!" IF VARRIC IS IN THE PARTY: "Hawke, the last time you fought one of these you nearly died." "Yeah, but I didn't die. That's the important thing."

(approaching a campsite) "Well ... I've slept in worse places."

(when collecting a Shard) "Let me guess. We have to collect a stupid amount of these for a really stupid reason, and they're all going to be in really stupid, hard to reach places. *sighs* I love adventuring."

HINTERLANDS

"Have we been here before? Feels like we've been here before."

(upon unlocking the cabin in Redcliffe with the Tranquil skulls) "That's ... fucking Maker. Tranquil have always made me uncomfortable but ... they were still people. They were still... shit, I need a second."

FALLOW MIRE

"Eugh, that smell! Worse than my dog when he's eaten cheese, and that's saying something."

(upon killing Widris) "Something, something, crazy mages ... "

"Oh, walking corpses. That's nice."

STORM COAST

(upon seeing the dragon vs giant fight) *laughing* "Oh, that's brilliant!"

"Not to sound like Varric, but why are there so many bloody hills around here? My legs hurt."

EXALTED PLAINS

"Maker, I hate Orlais."

(finding Valorin's corpse) *sighs* "Might sound a little hypocritical coming from me, but ... blood magic is not for the careless."

(seeing the ruined bridge, if Varric is in the party) "Hey Varric - " "Don't you dare, Hawke." "C'mon, please?" "You are not tossing me!" "Spoilsport."

EMERALD GRAVES

"I've always thought it was beautiful how the Dalish bury their dead under a tree sprout. Like ... I don't know, maybe death doesn't have to be the end."

HISSING WASTES

"There's sand in ... places. So many places."

"Have I said I hate sand? Because I hate sand."

EMPRISE DU LION

(seeing Red Lyrium) "Maybe don't touch that. It'll do all kinds of weird shit to you."

"I'm fucking freezing. When can we go home?"

(seeing Red Lyrium giants) "What the fuck?"

(Elfsblood River rift - near the lady with titsicles) *giggles*

SHRINE OF DUMAT

"I'm getting the weirdest sense of deja vu." IF VARRIC IS IN THE PARTY: "You're not the only one."

DEEP ROADS (THE DESCENT)

"Why do I always end up back in the Deep Roads? Am I cursed?"

COMPANION COMMENTS

VARRIC: "I was worried about what would happen if I brought her here, but ... it's nice to have Hawke around again."

CASSANDRA: "I have to admit, I do admire the Champion. A woman who built herself up from nothing to defeat the Arishok ... there's a certain romance to Varric's stories about her."

SOLAS: "I've been informed that Varric also calls Hawke "Chuckles". I ... don't see how we are similar."

DORIAN: "Hawke? Oh, I like her. She's not as daft as she acts."

BLACKWALL: "The other night, I found her getting teary-eyed in the tavern over how much she misses her dog. Don't quite know what to make of that, really."

VIVIENNE: "She is a powerful mage, I'll give her that, but she's also a naive fool. No wonder Kirkwall fell to pieces around her."

IRON BULL: "She's fun. Got a lot going on in that head she doesn't talk about, though."

COLE: "Fleeing, fighting, falling. Failed father, failed mother, failed Beth and Carver too. Fire and freedom, and she knows it's right but it still feels wrong. Old wounds that never healed, sometimes she can still taste the blood in her mouth. You chose to save her. She wishes you chose differently."

SERA: "Thought she'd be scary, but she makes me laugh. Hasn't let owning a mansion get to her head, either, and have you seen those arms? She's strong."

CULLEN: "I'd ... rather not talk about her, if you don't mind. We've a less than friendly history."

JOSEPHINE: "Lady Hawke is charming, certainly, but I cannot imagine her being popular amongst her neighbours in Hightown. She throws the very concept of decorum bodily out of the window."

LELIANA: "I knew her when she lived in Lothering. She didn't seem to like the Chantry much, but she was always sweet, and her jokes made me laugh. It's a little odd to see the woman she's grown into."

TRIVIA

Malcolm also made sure he trained Hawke in using a sword. She's not very good at it, preferring instead to use her staff as a melee weapon if an enemy gets too close.

She has a mean right hook.

Her and Varric have matching tattoos on their left buttcheeks.

Despite being Ferelden and adoring her own mabari, Hawke has a preference for cats.

She's awful at singing. She sings a lot anyway.

[tabriscadash]

I was asked this on my old blog right as I set about transitioning to this one, so...

The first character I ever fell in love with: for DA:O, dare I say Daveth? What can I say -- I irrationally got incredibly attached to him. otherwise, DEFINITELY Morrigan, and I have crystal clear memories of my first run through Lothering and looking at Morrigan like 😍 the whole time. For DA:2/E, Carver -- unless you count Anders & Justice since I knew of them from Awakening beforehand, in which case probably Justice. For DA:I, it’s a toss-up between Vivienne or Cole -- I technically liked Cole first but SPECIFICALLY in the supporting material (Asunder), and didn’t vibe with him anywhere near as much in the game, AND I got him as a companion after I got Vivienne, so probably Vivienne.

A character that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I guess Oghren? I never loved him, but I liked the idea of him because I really liked the dwarves/Orzammar side of DA’s worldbuilding -- but he’s such an unlikeable character that I just.. don’t vibe with him at all. I debate recruiting him every single time now, and I don’t think I ever do his personal quest (in the base game OR Awakening). for DA:2/E, I don’t really have anyone that fits -- but I REALLY wanted to like Merrill and Aveline more than I did, and especially in Aveline’s case, I can’t stand her and genuinely think she’s the unintended, secret Big Bad of the whole game. for DA:I, probably Cole, bc I was really into the idea of a little walking-corpse serial killer animated by a spirit as per the book, but that’s not really the vibe in DA:I, and combined with the somewhat patronising/ableist language and how significantly he is infantilised (including by the fandom) I just got put off him. I do still like him, but not as much.

A ship that I used to love/like, but now do not: for DA:O, I don’t really have one? I guess see my DA:I answer, lol... for DA:2/E, has to be Anders - I don’t think he’s OOC in 2, but I think his writing does so little with him and he feels v. reductive. Where his relationship could be SO interesting and angsty, it instead is written in a really dull and/or cringey way. It would have been nice to see Anders more like the Anders of Awakening near the beginning of the game (rather than random, infrequent and questionably rare snippets), and then see the progression of his relationship with Justice as the game went on -- I want more interesting abominations, PLEASE. for DA:I, listen I cannot express to you HOW EXCITED I was for my planned Lavellan to romance Sera… also I used to be way more tolerant of Cullen x Amell/Surana ships because, like, hey dark ships are fun, right? But since Cullen’s ~wholesome whitewash~ in DA:I, and his fandom clamouring to absolve him of any wrongdoing ever.. it’s boring to me.

My ultimate favourite character™: for DA:O, probably Sten? or Morrigan. They’re both fantastic, and also are significant comfort chars for me. for DA:2/3, honestly, probably my own Hawke -- I feel so hugely proud of her, and can’t imagine I’d enjoy the game anywhere near as much had I not played it as my Hawke. If not her, maybe Sebastian or Carver? for DA:I, I really love Vivienne, as well as Blackwall, and Solas is a great character even if I probably would not say I liked him.

Prettiest character: for DA:O, we all know it’s Zevran. for DA:2/E, I think Aveline -- although her aggressively bland colour-scheme lets her down in a major way (although I respect her dedication to all orange all day every day). There’s just something about her arms -- very Abby from TLOU:2. for DA:I, maybe Josephine? Ser Barris is very pretty, too...

My most hated character: for DA:O, I really didn’t like Alistair, Wynne and Oghren, and of my companions - Oghren is probably my least favourite. He’s vulgar and also profoundly uninteresting. for DA:2/E, it has to be Aveline. There’s just something about ineptitude and a complete, wilful refusal to take accountability for your actions that I can’t stand. It would be okay if it was an intentional character flaw, but the game/narrative treats her like she’s lawful good and it really annoys me. for DA:I, maybe Iron Bull? He was a huge disappointment for me. I also really dislike Sera, Cassandra, and Varric. I’m so sick of Varric - I never want to see him again.

My OTP: for DA:O, I really loved Zevran’s romance -- but I am also very amused by the fact that Leliana got to ‘love’ status with Kallian accidentally, AND I got the ‘love’ glitch for Justice (👀) and Velanna. I do sometimes wonder about an AU where Kallian is forced to make a politically expedient marriage with Nathaniel Howe for diplomatic reasons in order to consolidate her position as Arlessa, and it being an entirely platonic arrangement (it’s not like anyone expects an heir from an infertile Grey Warden) -- and maybe Zev and Nate kiss sometimes, who knows? I also LOVE my Darkspawn Chronicles AU where Kallian and Nelaros are a happy, married couple each hiding their skills with weapons from each other like dumb, cute sweethearts. They shelter Zevran when he fails to kill Alistair and a poly couple evolves. for DA:2/E, I love the IDEA of a Seb romance that isn’t so strictly conditional around the structures that abused him -- he should be allowed to love, chastely or otherwise, but free from the Chantry OR his position as prince/heir. I’d LOVE to actually have a romance with him where you can actually challenge the abuse he’s experienced. for DA:I, Malika doesn’t have a canon romance (although I think when I replay, I’m going to romance Josephine!) but I think Blackwall has an amazing romance. Solas’ is also iconic, it must be said. 

My NOTP: for DA:O, I really dislike Alistair in a shipping capacity; he’s immature and says a lot of misogynistic shit and I don’t think he’s the worst for it, but I don’t really vibe with shipping him, having played the game as a female city elf. for DA:2/E, I wouldn’t say I have one, particularly? although I really dislike Aveline’s relationship with her husband simply because it seems incredibly inappropriate, given that they work together and she has power over him -- and because I dislike her, generally, I don’t feel inclined to do something nice for her. for DA:I, I suppose Sera/Lavellan -- although I’m not AGAINST it, it just really isn’t for me, having attempted it. I also don’t really vibe with Dorian x Iron Bull. Something abt the way the game handled BDSM and their relationship banter specifically I don’t really like.

Favourite episode quest: for DA:O, probs Orzammar/the Deep Roads. I really love the dwarven lore! and, of course, Fort Drakon is really funny, even though it’s not canon in my game iirc. for DA:2/E, maybe the murder mystery with the serial killer, where ultimately Leandra dies? I also really enjoyed all the companion quests. for DA:I, The Descent (just, all of it, lmao) and everything to do with the Avvar. Crestwood also BANGED.

Saddest death: for DA:O, it’s frankly a fucking INJUSTICE that Shianni gets murdered if you make her Bann of the Alienage -- the idea of that happening whilst Kallian is in Amaranthine and unable to protect her :( genuinely very upsetting. I go back and forth on who is made Bann, tbf, so idk how canonical it is: I think maybe Cyrion would get it, but I’m also endeared to Soris holding the position, with Shianni as Hahren. for DA:2/E, Bethany. I wish both twins had had the chance to reach Kirkwall :(. Let Leandra die instead. for DA:I, maybe not the saddest death, but the most memorable for me was that one sleeping dragon in the Hissing Wastes.. leave her alone. Stay out of a womans’ business.

Favourite season game: DA:O!

Least favourite season game: DA:I.

Character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but I hate: for DA:O, Alistair. I cannot deal with his complacency and hypocrisy. for DA:2, I really disliked Merrill but I honestly cannot remember why. DEFINITELY Varric -- I hated how the game forces you to be his best friend, and if you’re low approval, you have to endure these pointless pissy little comments with this little anti-dwarf centrist pissant. After the expedition, I literally have no reason to put up with him, and I NEVER take him out. I hate that he plays the same role in DA:I, too. for DA:I, the Iron Bull was hugely disappointing, and I also really don’t vibe with Cassandra. She just seems very wishy-washy and complacent and hypocritical, and many of her comments about other cultures seem snide for literally no reason other than bigotry. 

My ‘you’re a piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave: for DA:O, lbr probably Sten. Mans is gonna launch a HORRIFYING invasion in the next game iirc and frankly, I’m ok with it. Just wanna see that big bastard again ❤🥵. for DA:2/E, I LOVE Gamlen, ok? for DA:I, I am not sure if I have one.

My ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave: for DA:O, if any of you so much as LOOK at Velanna wrong, it’s hands. That includes Bioware. I also feel incredibly protective of and sad for Morrigan. for DA:2/E, probably Sebastian -- I feel so sad for him, and so frustrated by the limitations with the game. for DA:I, I’m honestly not sure.. maybe Josephine? I don’t really feel this way about Sera, but I do think she deserves better from the game and its writing, and also from fandom: there are valid criticisms of her, but the hate she gets is not proportional to any valid issues with her -- and gee, I wonder why that is.

My ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship: for DA:O, I did use to find Cullen x Surana/Amell intriguing as a dark ship -- I actually hc that Neria Surana is actually Nelaros’ sister, and have dabbled with it as a dark ship. I also am interested in Loghain/Alistair - which each pretends the other is someone else. Alistair is wooby, hate ships are, in general, fun -- so long as we acknowledge that they are, indeed, unhealthy ships. for DA:2/E, I kind of feel like Sebastian romances are, invariably, kind of dark... and, similarly, Anders romances -- especially with certain red Hawkes, The way it ends is, invariably, bordering on fucked up. ALSO Hawkecest is weird and wonderful: GET WITH IT. 

My ‘they’re kind of cute, and I lowkey ship them, but I’m not too invested’ ship: for DA:O, I joked about Velanna x Leliana once and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about it ever since… Velanna x Sigrun is also something that can be so personal. Ariane x Finn is adorable and are paid DUST by Bioware AND fandom. I actually am really into Anora x Nathaniel & NO I will NOT explain myself; it’s a crackship but it’s MY crackship. for DA:2/E, Isabela x Fenris is super cute, but I don’t pay enough attention to them to really have super committed thoughts & feelings on them. for DA:I, Blackwall x Josephine is cute as a background ship; I also think Maryden x Cole is sweet.

[sinsbymanka]

ooh for the femslash feb prompts- f!aeducan/f!brosca. sfw,your choice between 'Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family' or 'You’re right. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just making it up as I go along.'

Thank you friend! I've never written an Aeducan/Brosca before. Both of those work SO WELL for this pairing but I went for your first prompt: "Trust me, you don't want to meet my family." I’m submitting this for @dadrunkwriting!

Title: To Fall on Her Sword Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 1523 Relationships: Female Aeducan/Female Brosca (Dragon Age) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multiple Wardens (Dragon Age), Warden Brosca (Dragon Age), Warden Aeducan - Freeform, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Post-Betrayal, The Aeducans are f’ed up, Brosca has had enough, Arguing, Kissing, Orzammar Culture and Customs, Femslash February ​ Summary: Natia Brosca knew that letter Gorim Saelac gave Sereda Aeducan was gonna cause problems. She just didn't expect the problem to be Sereda gaining a bit of a death wish. And, by the Ancestors, Natia has saved Sereda's life enough that if anyone is going to kill the princess, it's gonna be Natia.

Read on AO3

Natia knew that letter was gonna be trouble the second that warrior handed it over to Sereda.

Not that she could read it even if she got her grubby hands on it. Natia’s reading lessons were only brief moments snatched by the fire at night with Sereda, which meant she was just beginning to recognize the shapes of letters on signs in Denerim. She couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what they meant.

But there were other things Natia understood very well. She recognized the shocked relief on the warrior’s bearded face when he saw Sereda’s blonde braids. She knew the emotion choking his voice meant he was on the verge of tears when he fell to his knees in the marketplace before their exiled princess. She even recognized the way he stumbled to his feet, it meant a wound hadn’t properly healed and now never would.

She saw the way Sereda reached for him greedily, the way her eyes flashed with concern when he tripped on his aching joints.

More importantly she knew the parchment he handed over, rolled into a tight little tube, was the creamy, expensive kind that cost the same as a full meal in Dust Town. The expression on his face spoke volumes, none of it good. The wax sealing it shut had the crest of Orzammar embossed within it.

...And Natia knew that the tiny tremor in Sereda’s fingers was the only hint of emotion the princess would show as she took the paper and tucked it away with a brisk thank you.

If that was the last of it, Natia would be happy. But Natia also knew it wasn’t going to be the last of it. She just didn’t know exactly what kinda trouble it was gonna cause until they had Denerim at their backs and were heading deep into the Brecilian Forest.

Natia didn’t realize that Sereda had lost her damn mind.

The princess fought like a warrior, Natia always appreciated that about her. Ancestors, it had been the reason she threw her lot in with an exiled royal rather than risk imprisonment. Sereda had confessed once that she’d been meant to lead her father’s army, and Natia could see it. In another world, she’d have been a warrior queen fit for the ballads.

In this world, however, Sereda was a pain in the ass that was going to get Natia killed.

Sereda threw herself into battle with no thought for strategy. Her warhammer swung into one wolfman’s ugly maw, shield bashed into another. She didn’t pay the slightest attention to the monsters flanking her. She just drove onward in relentless, foolish pursuit of blood.

If Natia wasn’t there, Sereda would be dead. Again.

But nobody was gonna pin a medal on her Duster chest for keeping the Kinslayer alive. They probably wouldn’t even do it if she managed to help end the Blight and save all these surfacers. Sereda Aeducan could afford to go out in a blaze of glory - they’ll remember her regardless.

Natia Brosca didn’t have that luxury. So when the last wolf dropped, she turned her ire to the Princess.

She’d lost her helm somewhere, Stone knew where, and her blonde braids were askew. There was blood running down her cheek, but Sereda’s blue eyes burned with desperation.

Natia knew that look too. It was the look some of the Dusters got in their eyes when they’d made up their mind to find their last fight.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Natia asked.

“There were werewolves.” Sereda picked up her helmet and looked at the dented metal critically, pointedly not looking at Natia. “Now there aren’t. Problem solved.”

“Come here,” Wynne ordered Sereda, exasperated. “Your head wound needs tending.”

“Let her keep it,” Natia declared hotly. “She’s in such a damn hurry to get herself killed, may as well not waste the healing.”

“Natia,” Wynne scolded.

Notably, Sereda didn’t deny it. She simply glared at Natia across the battlefield. Not to be deterred, Natia glared back. The silence stretched between them until Sten finally broke it.

“Asala-taar,” he rumbled. “That is what my people call it. The urge to give up because the battle is too much. We cannot afford such an ailment now.”

We can’t afford it in you.

Sereda with her quick mind. Sereda who knew what to do, how to talk to these nobles, Sereda who was indomitable. If Natia lost her, she may as well walk up to the next darkspawn and kindly ask him to finish the job that the Joining had started because there was no way they could do it without her.

No way Natia could go on without her.

Wynne’s hands reached for Sereda and she flinched away. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are,” Natia challenged.

“I’m fine!” Sereda used her best princess voice. It rang off the trees with regal authority, silenced both Wynne and Sten in a moment.

Natia simply drew herself up to her full height and leveled her dagger in Sereda’s direction before whispering one word. “Bullshit.”

Sereda cursed under her breath and turned on her heel, vanishing into the trees despite Wynne’s sputtering protests. Sten growled in his own language and Natia moved without thinking.

“Stay here!” she called behind her, flying after Sereda’s retreat.

She did not lose this stubborn princess to the Deep Roads. Natia would not lose her here.

“Can I not have a moment’s peace?” Sereda called over her shoulder, sliding down the riverbank until her boots sunk in the mud. Natia clammored down after her easily, unencumbered by her leathers.

Her quick fingers twisted into Sereda’s chainmail and tugged. “What was in the letter?”

“What letter?” Sereda asked through clenched teeth.

“The one that made you decide to sodding end it all!”

Sereda whipped out her grip and turned, glaring at Natia. She could see herself reflected in those clear eyes, all frazzled orange hair and reddening face. “It is none of your business.”

“I saved your life twice, I’m sorta attached to it.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Well I did!” Natia yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I’ll be the one that decides when it ends, thank you very much. So come out with it. What did your loyal knight give you?”

“My loyal- Gorim?” Sereda asked, momentarily perplexed.

“Yes! The one that looks like he’d throw himself on his blighted sword for you.” Natia sighed, exasperated. She understood that much better than she particularly wanted to. Sereda had that damn effect on people.

“Gorim was my Second. Before-”

The pain that crossed Sereda’s face was raw. Violent. Before. Before Sereda was banished, before they called her Kinslayer, before she almost died in the Deep Roads.

Before she picked the Grey Wardens, before she would ever have looked twice at Natia Brosca or the brand on her cheek.

“My father’s dead,” Sereda said quietly. “I’ll never see him again. The last time he saw me, he sentenced me to death.”

“So you wanna finish the job in his honor?” Natia asked. “He was a shite father. Lots of people have shite fathers, Sereda. You don’t have to please him, especially not now.”

“He knew I was innocent.”

That surprised her. Sereda reached up to her breastplate, touched the space over her heart. Natia wondered if that was where the damning letter was stashed. Sereda’s voice grew hoarse, but she kept talking. “He knew I was innocent, that I didn’t kill Trian, and he exiled me anyway to avoid the scandal.”

...well, lots of people did have shite fathers. But Sereda’s father was truly the king of shite.

“He ruined his only daughter’s whole life to avoid a scandal?” she asked dumbly.

Tears popped into Sereda’s bright blue eyes, but they didn’t fall. She nodded. “There’s no king now. He’s dead, but they won’t make Bhelen king. The other candidate, Harrowmont, doesn't have enough support. There’s no King, the throne is empty, my father is dead, and I am…”

She trailed off helplessly and lifted her arms.

“Better off,” Natia declared, crossing the distance between them to run her gloved fingers over Sereda’s bloodstained cheeks. “You’re better off. You don’t belong to them, not anymore.”

Sereda was hers now, and Orzammar could rip her from Natia��s cold, dead fingers.

“We have to go back, Natia,” Sereda whispered, tipping her face to nuzzle into the cool leather while her eyes closed. “I have to go back.”

They did. They both did. “I’ll be with you. I’ll be your new Second, watch.”

Sereda smiled. “Maybe I can meet your family.”

That startled a laugh from Natia’s chest. The beautiful, perfect Sereda Aeducan in her former hovel across from her drunk mother and ferociously cunning sister? It was too absurd. “Trust me, you don’t want to meet my family.”

“Why not?” Sereda asked glumly. “They can’t be worse than mine.”

Natia took Sereda’s chin in her fingers and guided it to her lips. “Not true,” she murmured softly, “I’m your family now. And I’m pretty sodding great.”

The smile underneath Natia’s lips when they crashed together tasted like sweet, sweet victory.

[floral-and-fine]

Heaven Bent part 4

Daryl Dixon x female reader

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3

A/n: Hope y'all enjoy this next part :) Thank you, everyone, who has left comments or shown support, really helps keep me motivated to write!  Other than a few specific scenes, I’m not quite sure where this fic is going or for how long. Thank you @ewokiee​ for helping me when I was stuck, seems to have happened a lot.

Summary: The reader finds Sophia lost in the woods, too bad neither of them have any sense of direction. 

You were laying out on the grass, in front of the prison, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin. Turning your head, you could see a couple of walkers banging on the fence, but there wasn’t any urgency. Closing your eyes and sighing, you continued soaking in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

After months of traveling and living on the road, it seemed like finding a new home, a new safe haven was a dream of a dream.

Seeing so many houses and towns abandoned made the world seem like a shell of itself. It was almost like living in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Every day you would come across something that reminded you of how things used to be, such as while rummaging for supplies in an empty home, you’d end up finding a forgotten family photo album or family portrait, and deep down you longed for that safer, easier life.

Then there were the walkers, a never-ending threat, a fear that everyone had to live with, and that worry whenever entering a new building if you turned a corner or opened a door that it could be your last.

Who would’ve believed that you’d find such comfort and peace behind a fence or behind bars?

“Hey,” a voice said as their body plopped down beside you.

“Hi buttercup,” you smiled, keeping your eyes shut.

Sophia stretched her arms above her head, looking around. “You know what this place needs,” she mused. “Flowers.”

You nodded your head, “Ah yes, big yellow sunflowers would be nice.”

“Those are pretty,” she commented.

“And useful,” you added. You could feel her giving you a skeptical look, you smiled wider. “We can roast and eat the seeds, and there are some medical uses too.”

“Are there other flowers that are helpful?”

“There are,” You said sitting up. “And lots of other plants that can be helpful too. I’ll keep an eye out for seeds next time I’m on a run. Would you like to be my helper?”

“Yes! We’ll start our own flower garden!” She said eagerly.

“Yep, I think that’s exactly what this place needs,” you murmured to yourself. You stood up and started scanning the area, trying to decide where the garden should go. “We should probably ask Rick first.”

There was a nice spot over by the east side of the prison, plenty of sunshine in the mornings and in the evening it would be nicely shaded. Water was scarce, but if you could figure out a way to collect rainwater that would help.

You turned around and looked back at Sophia, “Race you to the prison.” With that you took off running, laughing as Sophia called you a cheater.

Still giggling, you found Rick and some of the others inside the prison.

“Hey Rick,” you greeted, rocking on the balls of your feet with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Need something?” He asked, turning his attention to you.

“I was thinking of starting a small garden, over around there,” you explained, vaguely gesturing with your head. “Wanted to make sure it was alright with you first.”

“We’re going to plant flowers,” Sophia butted in.

Rick smiled and shrugged, “Don’t see why not.”

Sophia squealed beside you and you laughed, “Still have to find seeds and whatnot,” you told her. “But we can start tomorrow morning by getting the soil ready.”

…

You wiped the sweat from your brow and leaned against your shovel. The garden was starting to come along, you hadn’t found many things to plant yet, but it was better than nothing.

“So, what did you do before all this?” Glenn asked, walking over and admiring the work you had done so far.

You shrugged, “a little of this and a little of that.”

“Oh come on, that’s worse than Daryl’s answer!” Glenn complained. “Anytime anyone has asked, he always replies with its none of your goddamn business.”

You smiled, you could easily picture Daryl scowling at the question. “Well that’s probably because it is God’s business,” you joked.

Glenn laughed lightly, “still can’t believe he lets you get away with all that angel talk. It’s probably because the two of you are sleeping together.”

Your fell face at the comment, but just as you were about to question him, Hershel approached.

He was getting quick on those crutches. He smiled at the beginnings of your little project. “It’s looking good so far,” he chuckled.

You rubbed the back of your head, “I guess so. Nothing compared to your farm of course.”

…

Daryl was doing maintenance on his bow when Sophia quietly shuffled into the room.

“Mr. Dixon,” she started, standing by the door. Even after everything, Sophia was still shy around most everyone with the exception of her mother, you, and Carl.

“What is it?” He asked, focused on what he was doing.

“We’re going to be starting a flower garden, y/n and I,” she explained, smiling brightly.

Daryl nodded, still working.

She fidgeted with her necklace for a moment, moving the pendant side to side.

“Y/n was hoping to plant some sunflowers, and I was just thinking if you come across any kind of seeds you could bring them back with you, y’know? We’re hoping to plant all sorts of flowers.” She rattled off.

Daryl sighed, looking over at Sophia, who was looking at him hopefully, “Alright, if I see any I’ll bring them back.”

“Thank you!” She shrieked, giving him a quick hug.

He clenched his jaw for a moment, mulling things over, “what flowers did you say she wanted?”

“Sunflowers!” Sophia shouted as she skipped out of the room.

…

Daryl pulled up to the gates, he had left for a solo supply run just as the sun was rising. He had scoured a few abandoned homes, killed a couple of walkers, nothing too eventful or worthwhile.

You sat your tools aside, and dusted yourself off, heading over and meeting Daryl by the gate.

“Did you have any luck?” You asked.

“Not really,” he said, getting off of his motorcycle. Opening his pack he pulled out a shoebox that had probably seen better days.

“Shoes?” You questioned, lifting your brow.

He shook his head and thrust the dirty worn box into your hands. “Here,” he muttered before heading inside.

Curious, you opened the lid, finding that it was filled with seed packets inside. You bit your lip and sat on the ground. Carefully, you started going through the packets, setting aside the most useful ones.

You were bubbling with excitement over the find, if you could manage to gather enough water and get some extra help, you could have a pretty nice crop going besides just a little flower garden.

You paused, noticing underneath the top layer of packets, was a sunflower, the stem had been cut by a serrated knife leaving it rough and jagged, it was also missing a few petals, but still, it was a beautiful sight.

Looking back at the prison, you wondered if there was something you could do for Daryl in return. Most people wouldn’t have bothered even looking in this box, figuring it was probably just junk. Plus, you couldn’t even put into words how you felt over the flower.

You clutched the flower tightly, you had been meaning to do something for him for months now, even before this new surprise. You narrowed your eyes, what the hell would he even like?

...

“Guess who finally picked the lock to the warden’s office,” you sang, joining Daryl on the watchtower.

Daryl looked up at you, blinking in surprise over the dried blood on your shirt, “what the hell happened to you?”

You looked down at the stain, “Oh yeah, that, there was a walker inside, but I took care of it.”

Daryl shook his head, “you’re gonna get yourself killed doing stupid shit like that.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, feeling bad for making him worry. “But look at what I found.” You held up the fancy bottle of scotch and smiled. “Thought we could share it.”

Daryl rolled his eyes but scooted over for you to sit next to him.

You opened the bottle and took the first drink before handing it to him. Closing your eyes, you listened to the crickets and Daryl breathing. It was a cool and peaceful night, perfect for relaxing and loosening up a bit.

“Thank you for the seeds and the flower,” you said, breaking the silence.

He didn’t reply, simply taking another swig from the bottle, and staring out into the distance.

He wasn’t quite sure what motivated him to do it. The box of seeds was one thing, but searching for a Goddamn sunflower just so he could bring you one was another.

Daryl could practically hear Merle in his head taunting him, telling him he’d gone soft for some bitch. His hands balled into fists involuntarily, the thought of a Merle referring to you as a bitch pissed him off.

‘What’s a matter with you boy?’ Imaginary Merle asked. ‘Never thought l’d see my kid brother wrapped around some woman’s finger.’

Daryl leaned back, clenching his jaw, all this was unfamiliar territory, all these things he felt, the way he thought about you. Maybe he was going soft… scowling he drank more, hoping to put an end to the voice going on and on in the back of his mind.

You took the bottle from him, taking a big drink and sighing as a wave of nostalgia washed over you, “I remember getting my heart broken on a night like this, damn bastard.”

Daryl peeked over at you. You rarely cursed and you rarely seemed anything other than sweet and happy. But the bitterness and hurt in your voice were evident.

You examined the bottle in your hands, a quarter of it already gone. “I was dumb, so fucking dumb. I left home without a second thought and followed the man I loved across the country. I don’t know what I expected… marriage and babies, I guess, but instead what I ended up with was an immature manipulative dick.”

“I packed up what little I had, and left that small crappy apartment in the middle of the night... I couldn’t go back home, so I hitched a ride going as far as the driver would take me,” you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Since then my entire life could fit in one suitcase.”

Tossing your head back you took another big gulp, and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You could easily recall that night you left, standing on the street corner feeling like a lost soul in the dark. No one to turn to, nowhere to go, it was scary but there was also a certain freedom to it. You were on your own, nothing tying you down or holding you up.

“You been on your own since then?” Daryl asked.

“Mostly,” you shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate though, met some decent people on my travels… and some interesting ones.”

You passed the bottle back to him,“I heard from the others about what happened with your brother,” you started. “Sounds like you and him have been through a lot together.”

He nodded, “Merle’s tougher than nails, none of these walkers would ever get the jump on him. He’s out there somewhere.”

“The two of you have that in common then,” You smiled. “From what I’ve gathered, it sounded like the two of you were inseparable, always having each other’s backs and whatnot.”

Daryl frowned. “Not all the time,” he corrected you.

Merle had been the first one to leave, having left Daryl behind without a second thought. This time around, Daryl didn’t have a choice, at least not in the same way.

“But I guess we’re even now,” he murmured.

“It must’ve been hard not going after him,” you commented. “But I know we’re all grateful that you stuck around. We need you.”

Daryl sighed, he didn’t regret his choice, he was needed here. But he still felt like he’d owed it to Merle to find him. They were family, blood, Merle was all he had in this world.

Taking another sip, your eyes wandered over to the beginnings of your garden.

“Y’know the best thing about my childhood home were the sunflowers that grew outside of my window,” You laughed dryly wiping a few stray tears. “Guess I’m just hoping this could be home for all of us.”

Daryl nodded, “If we’re smart, and if we’re careful, it can be.”

Resting your head on your hand, you admired Daryl, he was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, but it was his arms and hands that stood out to you the most. There were many mornings you wished you could wake up in those arms.

You glanced at his face, your angel seemed to have a lot on his mind. You had hoped when you found the bottle of scotch it would’ve helped him relax a little.

But by now, you had enough to drink that you were feeling that buzz of confidence.

“Angel,” you whispered leaning forward, your eyes closed, and your hand reaching out to cup his face.

Immediately, Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from getting any closer.

There was a part of him that wanted this to happen, to pull you close and run his fingers through your hair, but there was also fear. He had never really been one for relationships, he didn’t have much experience with romance either. Not to mention, it seemed wrong to want to kiss a drunk woman.

You opened your eyes slowly, looking at Daryl full of confusion. Immediately backing away when you saw his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you stood up, keeping your eyes downcast, unable to look at him. Your face felt like it was on fire.  “I-I should go,” you mumbled, stumbling as you took a few steps forward.

“Wait,” Daryl spoke up, grabbing your arm. “You’ll break your damn neck trying to climb down drunk.”

You kept your head down but nodded trying desperately to hold back tears. You were feeling absolutely overwhelmed by your emotions, and your inebriated state making it harder to control them.

“I’ll climb down first,” he explained, that way if you lost your footing and slipped and he could try to catch you.

Once you made it to the ground, you were still so flustered that you quickly wished him a good night before brushing past him and heading towards the prison.

Daryl watched as you briskly walked away, eventually climbing back up to the watchtower once you were inside. He grabbed the bottle of scotch taking one more drink before replacing the lid. He hoped he hadn’t just fucked things up.

Tag list: @twdeadfanfic​  @xaestheticalien​  @x-roscpctals-x   @amaroho​  @theonlyone-meeeee​  @mysterious-398​   @marss-anonymous​   @thecaptainsgingersnap​

[barbex]

I guess I'm a coward but so are you 👀

Thank you for this ask!

The title is from a song (with some adaption): First Aid Kit - The Lion's Roar

This is the dorianders fic, that started here on tumblr and even has a second part. In a quite unusual act for me, it hasn't moved to AO3 yet.

There is a third chapter in the works in that document, where it ties into the Lost Templar fic, with Carver Hawke as the inquisitor.

Here's an excerpt:

"Fasta Vass, must you — oh." He stops himself, and not just because he sees Inquisitor Carver Hawke himself leaning against the door. He recognized the tone he used, clearly the tone of an annoyed magister scolding an elven slave. A habit he's trying to break himself from.

He turns his attention to Carver, who still leans against the door, gently banging the back of his head against the ancient wood. Dorian changes his tone. "Have you made a decision yet?"

"Yes. No." Carver groans and bangs his head against the wood once more before pushing off it and joining Dorian at his lookout towards the mountains. "What these mountains could tell us, all the things they have seen."

Dorian nods. "Empires rising and falling."

"How petty and small our conflicts are compared to what they have seen."

Dorian watches him, noting the deep worry lines that cut into his forehead. A lot has happened to the young, easily angered man who stomped with him through time cursed dungeons. "Have you made a decision?"

"Not yet, I said I needed to be alone to think. I didn't know you would be here."

"I can leave."

"No." Carver holds him back by his arm. "Please, I don't know what to do."

Dorian leans back on the balustrade, next to Carver and grins. "If the chantry knew that you're asking the evil magister from Tevinter for advice..."

Carver kicks the stone wall once and leans back on it. "This is politics, I can't do politics." He turns to Dorian. "You're the one for politics, tell me, what would you do?"

"Ah." Dorian nods. "I was afraid you'd ask me that." He pushes back from the balustrade and resumes his pacing. "We both know that the inquisition is a chantry organization, even though you have done your best at pissing them off recently. But if you want to keep the chantry support, you'll have to call a death sentence onto Anders."

Carver has turned around, leaning his back against the balustrade. "That's what all the devoted nobles are telling me too. But what does Dorian think?"

"Please don't kill him." It comes out faster and more desperate than he intended to.

"Why? Because you think he's attractive?"

He can't help but smile. He must have lost some of his well practiced masking if even Carver noticed his attraction. "No, not just that."

"So it's true? Merrill said that you like him."

"Your girl is very perceptive," Dorian says and turns to pace back along the hallway. "I admit to being biased, I think he's fascinating, as a man of conviction and also as a mage. To lose him to petty revenge, to lose his abilities as a mage and a healer, all for politics, would be foolish." Dorian turns and plants his feet firmly on the ground. "As an outsider, I think I can say something. Nobody can look at the last few hundreds years of the chantry's rule over this part of Thedas and not see the damage it has done. Damage to people, to their minds, and also to the development of society. I know I keep joking about how adorably rusty the South is and I don't want to paint all of Tevinter in a glowing light but there's something to be said for magic and its enrichment of technology and —"

"Yes, alright," Carver interrupts and shakes his head. "Maybe it should have been you who speaks for Anders."

"Who did instead?"

"Josephine, who did an admirable job, arguing in a similar way like you that the way the chantry and the templars have ruled over the mages could not continue and some kind of rebellion was inevitable. She mentioned Rivian as an example of peaceful understanding between mages and non-mages, until the chantry interfered."

"Well, that sounds very convincing to me?"

Carver shakes his head in disagreement. "Josephine also let me know beforehand that we'll lose support from the chantry and many nobles if I show mercy to Anders and that it will also look like I'm giving a favour to a friend."

"A friend?"

"Anders is a friend, maybe not a close one but you can't hang out in Kirkwall for years and also run around in a Warden prison trying to get out and fight an ancient tevinter magister, without getting to be kind of friendly."

"Wait, Corypheus? Anders was there too?"

"Yep."

Dorian stares at Carver. "Then his knowledge is too important to lose."

"Is it? We already got two Hawkes and Varric to tell all that happened."

"Still, that's an angle, Josie can use that to spin it to the nobles."

"But it's still look like I'm favouring my friends."

Dorian can't argue against that but he has one more card up his sleeve to sway Carver. "Have you asked Merrill what she thinks?"

"No, I'm... I know she'll never be for killing Anders and what if I have to decide against her?"

It's almost too easy to dig into that opening. Compared to Dorian, Carver is blind on the fields of politics, unaware of the power of a few gently placed words. Dorian swallows his unease, he's not doing this for himself, he's doing this to save Anders' life. "That girl is your heart, maybe you should listen to your heart?"

Carver narrows his eyes at him. "That's a nasty trick, Dorian, and you know it."

Dorian hides a catch of his breath under a cough. Not so unaware then. "I apologize. In my defense, I'm trying to safe a man's life."

"Yeah, I get that."

[emperorsfoot]

I’ve posted about this before, but it’s time to go off on the Ben 10 arc that I hold deepest in my heart.  

The Ultimate Kevin arc of Ultimate Alien

Let’s begin with how Kevin became Ultimate Kevin.

The Defeat of Aggregor

Aggregor was the main villain for the first two seasons of Ultimate Alien. We went through two arcs with him. One where our heroes had to protect his alien prisoners from being re-captured (a task they consistently failed at in every episode), and then after Aggregor re-captured them and absorbed their powers, the Map of Infinity arc where they had to stop Aggregor from collecting all the pieces of a map that would guide him to the Forge of Creation where the “ultimate prize” was (another task they consistently failed at in every episode). 

Aggregor got all his aliens, and he got all his map pieces, and he made it to the Forge of Creation, and he had beaten Ben!OS, Ben!AF/UA, and Gwen into submission. Our heroes were not doing well. Kevin and Ben!OS were the only ones even still conscious and Ben!OS’ Omnitrix was timed out and non-active. 

So, Ben comes up with a plan. 

He offered the power of his Omnitrix to Kevin in order to defeat Aggregor. 

This is a very jarring moment because, remember, THIS version of Ben has only ever known Kevin as an enemy and not someone to be trusted. But he also recognizes that his other self and Gwen were both unconscious and unable to do anything. He himself is unable to do anything because without his Omnitrix, he’s just a tiny little 10-year-old kid. But Ben recognizes that Kevin can do something if he uses his Osmosian powers to absorb the Omnitrix. 

So, he offers that power to Kevin. 

That’s very important. 

As we move forward in this post (and all my rants about this arc, to be honest), I want you all to remember: Ben offered Kevin the Omnitrix. 

Kevin has his misgivings and refuses at first. The reasons for this should be obvious, but I’ll list them for you anyway:

Kevin loses his mind when he absorbs too much power

Absorbing a lot of power overloads an Osmosian’s mind and they lose their sanity

If Kevin absorbed and Omnitrix, any Omnitrix, he will cease to be himself

Do all three of those sound like the same thing to you? Good. They should. It’s very important to this essay, so I had to say it three times. Kevin does not want to absorb the Omnitrix or the Ultimatrix because Kevin does not want to lose his mind. Kevin does not want to lose the stable life he’s built for himself. Kevin does not want to lose the healthy relationship he has with his mother. Kevin does not want to lose the friends he has made. Kevin does not want to lose the love he has found with Gwen. 

Kevin has everything to lose by following Ben’s plan and absorbing an Omnitrix. 

But, Kevin has even more to lose if Aggregor absorbs the power of a god and can un-make the universe. 

Realizing the necessity, Kevin, accepts this plan, but goes for his Ben’s Ultimatrix instead. 

He absorbed the Ultimatrix, as was Ben’s plan and becomes Ultimate Kevin. This gives him the power needed to defeat Aggregor. 

The universe is saved! Whoo hoo!

The universe is saved and Kevin was the one who saved it. 

Ben didn't save the universe. Kevin did. 

It was Kevin. 

Kevin is the hero here. 

But at great personal cost.

He’s now off his nut. He even says, out right, very clearly, in plain words, that he could absorb all of his friends right now. Both Bens and even Gwen. He could even do what Aggregor was trying to do and absorb the Celestialsapien and become a god. 

No one can stop him. They’re all still too weak from having their asses handed to them by Aggregor. 

Everyone is 100% at Kevin’s mercy. And they all know it. 

But Kevin doesn’t absorb anyone. He doesn’t absorb either of the Bens. He doesn’t absorb Gwen. He doesn’t absorb the baby god-alien that’s right there. 

Instead, he leaves. He has just barely enough control of himself to do it. But he does it. Because he just sacrificed -literally- everything else he has in the universe to save these idiots. 

Cue the wrap-up. Professor Paradox sends Ben!OS back to his own time, and Ben and Gwen wonder what’s gonna become of Kevin now that he’s... changed...?

And that leads us into the next segment:

Trying to Convince Us Kevin is an Unforgivable Monster

So now we have an arc of Kevin being a villain again. 

Sure. I’m down. 

I love a good “good guy turned bad” arc. It... does things for me... 

But, the very first episode of the “prove Kevin is evil” arc only shows us that he’s not evil at all. All it does is show us that Kevin Levin has had one of the hardest and most unfair lives of any character from the Ben 10 franchise. 

Let’s begin. 

The Episode opens in the Null Void in a prison called Incarcercon, and introduces the characters that are going to be important for this episode. Two convicts, Trukk and Quince, and the Warden, Morgg. We’ll come back to them. 

Then it cuts to our “heroes” Ben and Gwen. 

And Ben is already on his “Kevin needs to go down” bullshit. 

They are desperate to find Kevin. Gwen, to help him and return him to some version of sanity and normalcy. Ben, to beat the shit out of him and “stop” him like any other villain in his rogues gallery. 

After this conversation we learn that Kevin has actually hurt someone, so he’s not completely innocent. 

This Guy ^

Whom we have never seen before and we will never see again. 

According to This Guy, Kevin claimed he owed him money and then attacked him, and Kevin’s into some pretty sketch stuff so I’m willing to believe that. Sure. 

But Kevin also, right now, has the power to fly through space, race the Rust Bucket, rip into Plumbers bases, somehow get to the Null Void, and a whole bunch of other stuff. He could kill an average earthling with a sneeze, and this guy looks like an average earthling to me. I’m honestly skeptical Kevin actually hurt him at all and he didn’t just see Kevin, get scared, and trip down some stairs. 

But whatever. 

The testimonial from This Guy, whom we have never seen before and will never see again, bolsters Ben’s resolve. “Kevin must be stopped, no matter the cost!” (<--Optimis Prime voice)

So, where in the universe is Kevin Levin?

You guessed it! He’s in Incarcercon that was already explained to us at the beginning of the episode! 

One of the other inmates approaches him because he thinks he recognizes him. Kevin is his normal abrasive self. Ben and Gwen teleport into the prison. Then we get a flashback to Kevin’s past to explain his motivations for coming to this prison in the middle of the Null Void. 

This was the prison Kevin was sent to when he was just 11 years old. (I have more comments to make on that, but that’s a whole other post!) And it’s the place where -objectively his best- father figure was murdered. 

Y’all remember in the OS how Ben finally “defeated” Kevin was to trap him in the Null Void, right? 

Welp, once he was in the Null Void, they went even further and locked him up in the alien equivalent of a Turkish prison. 

The flashback opens up with Kevin being attacked by multiple other inmates at once. 

The fight is seen by two other inmates, Quince, the one we already met in the present who approached Kevin, 

and Kwarrel. 

Kwarrel approaches Kevin and offers to help him. 

And thus, Kevin Ethan Levin gets the first positive father figure he’s had in his life. (At the age of 11, but once again, that’s another post.) 

Kwarrel teaches Kevin how to channel his anger, control his powers and... TURN BACK FROM A MUTANT INTO A REAL BOY! 

Oops. Sorry. Wrong image. 

Here you go. 

We also learn why Kwarrel wasn’t there at the beginning of Alien Fore when we run into Kevin again. 

He dead. 

He super dead. 

He murdered. 

Shot in the back by Warden Morgg, the current Warden of the prison Kevin has snuck into. Kevin has come back now that he’s Ultimate Kevin and has all these extra powers, so that he can avenge his father-figure’s murder. 

That really does not sound all that villainous to me. 

Morally questionable, yes. But not “evil”. 

Kevin want’s justice, not senseless mayhem. 

Ben and Gwen expose a slave labor and drug smuggling plot. The corrupt Warden is defeated. Ben and Gwen are the heroes. Kevin escapes. End Episode. Okay. 

Let’s keep it moving.

Next episodes begins yet again with the supporting characters that are going to be important in this episode, before cutting to Ben and Gwen. 

Ben is still on his “Kevin’s gotta go down” bullshit. 

Then Argit practically jumps in front of their car and explains that Kevin is after him. The main conflict of this episode is Ben and Gwen protecting Argit from Kevin. (There’s also a subplot of the Vreedle brothers becoming Plumbers, and Argit trying to scam a Plumbers base, but this post is about Kevin, not them.)

Argit, of course, played the innocent victim. Gwen does mention that Argit has betrayed not only Kevin, but both her and Ben in the past and asks why they should help him. But they end up helping him anyway. 

Trying to protect Argit from Kevin who wants to murder him now. 

The thing is... the first time we met Argit, he paralyzed Kevin (and Ben and Gwen), and tries to steal the Rust Bucket 2. 

He also sold Ben, Gwen, and Kevin out to the Vreedle brothers.

Kevin finally breaks off his friendship with Argit in “Andreas’ Fault” of Ultimate alien, when Kevin witnesses his treatment of Andreas (one of the prisoners of Aggregor). 

In this very episode where Argit is the “victim”, Argit is trying to defraud the Plumbers.

So, while Ultimate Kevin trying to kill him is very extreme, for sure! I don't think it’s all that “evil” considering the history they have. 

Once again, Kevin wants justice, not mayhem. 

Obviously, this is a kids show and so some black and white morality is to be expected. Killing is wrong and so if Kevin wants to kill someone then he is wrong. 

I just don’t think he’s acting “irredeemably evil”. 

Certainly, he’s not acting bad enough to earn him a death sentence of his own! 

Which is exactly what Ben tries to do to him in the third and final part of this arc.

Operation Kevin Must DIE!

[bedrockbros-hell]

Ok so I couldn’t stop thinking about the epic confrontation between c!Tommy and c!Dream that’ll probably go down Thursday/Friday when Tommy breaks into the prison so I wrote it out :3

TW: blood, gore, PTSD, death, manipulation, swearing, graphic depictions of torture and violence

(Seriously this got kinda intense, make sure you stay safe ok?)

(Also I’m ignoring the whole Wilbur-gets-revived thing for now)

*DISCLAIMER* I do not condone or support torture or murder, nor do I condone or support any malicious action of c!Dream’s (e.g. manipulation, child abuse, etc.). All characters in the story are referencing the DSMP characters, not the content creators.

****

It was time. The plans had been made. The break-in had been executed. The TNT cannon had worked and Tubbo was off somewhere distracting the Warden. Tommy stood at the threshold of the cell, at the precipice. It was time.

Tommy recalled the last instance he had been at the prison, swearing that it would be the final visit. And he remembered how sourly things had gone: instead of healing, his visit had left him more broken than before. And now, being back there, staring at the wall of lava, things felt a little too familiar...

No, Tommy reminded himself. Things are different now. He pulled out his Axe of Peace, its dark netherite surface glowing with magic. Things were certainly different now. This time, it really would be the final visit. He stepped onto the platform and pushed the button.

Waves of heat rose up around Tommy as the moving platform brought him through the molten liquid, and he could feel himself sweating underneath his netherite armor. As he got closer to the cell, his heart began to pound from old fears and he worked to steady his breathing. Tommy gripped his axe tighter to stop his hands from shaking. The platform halted and Tommy stepped off, facing the wall of netherite blocks. As the platform receded, the curtain of lava closed behind him, trapping him inside. Tommy fought down his panic. He knew he could leave whenever he wished, but it didn’t stop himself feeling suffocated.

Suddenly a mechanical groan and whirr distracted him from his thoughts. The wall before Tommy split apart, the top receding into the ceiling and the bottom sinking into the floor. Inch by inch, the innards of the maximum security cell were revealed to him.

And there he was.

Dream sat cross-legged in shadow, directly in front of Tommy, his back against the cold obsidian wall. He wasn’t wearing his mask, though his unruly hair had grown long enough to cover his face. Looking around, Tommy found the mask a few feet away from him. It was cracked in half. Everything else in the cell, Tommy noticed, was pretty much the same as when he had last been there. The chest, sink, and small bookshelf were tucked in the same corner, wood moulding from the crying obsidian. An empty space by the sink showed where Dream’s clock had been. The low orange light cast from the lava gave the whole place an eerie glow. It was all too familiar. Tommy swallowed, reminding himself again, this is not the same. I am in control.

As Tommy stepped into the cell, Dream spoke, without lifting his head. “Welcome back. You’re earlier than usual.”

Tommy halted, surprised. “You’ve been expecting me?”

At the sound of Tommy’s voice, Dream whipped his head up. His eyes widened. “Tommy! It’s–I thought you were...” He paused. “Never mind.” Suddenly, Dream smiled. “You’re here! You’ve come back to visit me!” He stood and began walking towards Tommy, arms outstretched.

Tommy raised his axe. “Stay back! Stay the fuck away from me! I didn’t come here just to visit you.” Dream stopped, lowering his arms and eyeing the axe. Tommy took a few deep breaths, his heart racing in his chest. “Just shut up and listen to me ok? You have caused me so much pain, Dream. And not only me, but everyone on the server. I thought locking you away in here would put a stop to all that, but I was wrong. You are still ruining people.” Dream was silent, no longer smiling. He was still shadowed, and his eyes were unreadable. Tommy continued, “I am here to finally end your reign of terror, permanently.” The netherite axe glinted wickedly in the dim light.

Dream said nothing. Then, astoundingly, he burst into wild, humorless laughter. Tommy bristled, taken aback. “What the fuck is so funny?” he yelled over the cacophony of Dream’s cackling. “I’m here to kill you!”

All at once, Dream stopped laughing, though the crazed light hadn’t quite died from his eyes. “You’re here to kill me, Tommy?” he repeated softly, smirking. “Are you sure that even death can stop me from–as you put it–ruining people?”

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked roughly, his voice betraying the fear that bubbled in the pit of his stomach. “I know it will. You’ll be dead!”

“Tommy,” Dream said, as one speaking to a child struggling to understand, “death doesn’t have any power over me. I know this, and I know you do too.”

Memories cascaded over Tommy. The body-wrenching pain and the mind-shattering numbness. White light. The images were like hands tightening themselves around his wrists, his neck, his heart. His very soul ripped from his body. The void. Wilbur...

Tommy shook his head, forcing these thoughts out. “Stop it! This is different. There won’t be anyone to bring you back.”

“Won’t there?”

Tommy faltered.

Dream chuckled softly. “Ah, of course,” he said. “You don’t know.”

“Know what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Dream said nothing. Then, slowly, he stepped into the light, and Tommy felt the axe slide out of his grip and hit the floor with a clang as he processed the full horror of what was before him.

Dream’s body was utterly broken. His face was black and blue and covered in gashes, and there were gashes on his arms and legs showing through the shreds of his prison jumpsuit. Some of them were still bleeding. His nose was crooked, and trails of dried blood ran down his lips. There was blood everywhere: on his hands, in his hair, stained on his clothes. He walked with a limp, which Tommy hadn’t noticed before, and looking down, he saw that one of Dream’s feet was bending the wrong way. Many of his fingers were also bent at unnatural angles, and in fact... Bile rose in Tommy’s throat as he realized that not all of Dream’s fingers were there.

Tommy dug his nails into his palms to stay alert. He had just enough presence of mind to pick up his axe. “What the fu...what–what the hell happened to you?” His voice was pitched with hysteria.

Dream grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “Let’s just say you haven’t been my only visitor.”

Tommy was at a loss for words. For all that time spent preparing for this final confrontation, running through a million scenarios in his mind, he had never, ever, expected something like this. He cursed himself. It was supposed to be simple, straightforward. Find Dream, kill him. But now, though he was disgusted with himself for being so, Tommy couldn’t help but feel sorry for Dream. The axe lowered slightly as Tommy wavered in indecision.

Dream tilted his head, shifting his hair, and Tommy saw that a chunk of his ear was gone. “So are you gonna kill me or not?” he asked innocently, though Tommy knew Dream could sense his hesitancy, and was enjoying every bit of it. “You know, at this point, death would probably be preferable to what I’ve had to endure here,” he said, almost nonchalantly.

“I–,” Tommy stammered, trying to collect his thoughts. “No, no wait. What did you mean before, when you said, ‘you don’t know’? What don’t I know?”

Dream barked out another dry laugh. “Oh, Tommy,” he said, “there’s so much you don’t know.” Tommy hated this, hated feeling like Dream was always two steps ahead of him. It made him feel powerless, despite his weapons and armor. “You wanna know the reason I look like this? Where I got these injuries from?” Dream asked, coming closer to him, and Tommy had to look upwards meet his eyes. “I was being tortured. Every day.”

Shock boiled inside Tommy. He was torn. One part of him was screaming in vindication, the other was absolutely sickened. Even Dream didn’t deserve this, did he?

“Know why I was being tortured?”

Tommy said nothing, his mouth completely dry. He didn’t want to know the answer, but his voice stuck in his throat.

“The revive book, Tommy,” Dream said. “Someone wanted to know how to use it.”

With great effort, Tommy managed to get his throat unstuck. “What–what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” His words were raspy and shaky.

“It has everything!” Dream screamed so loudly it reverberated off the obsidian walls. “Everything to do with this! Do you know how fucking long I endured what would have had you crawling and pleading in two minutes? You know how many days I spent with nothing more to look forward to than the destruction of my body and sanity? And I could have gone on longer,” he said, punctuating his words with hysterical laughter. “Oh I could have gone on until they chopped off all my arms and legs and I was nothing more than a half dead chunk of meat on the floor! But guess what?” Dream stepped closer, and Tommy could see the manic glint in his eyes. “Guess what? I chose to give in. I let them in on my powerful little ability. Know what that means?”

Tommy took a step back, revulsion rising up inside of him. This was too much. It was too much. This was not what was supposed to happen, everything was going wrong. Tommy hated feeling so out of control. A voice inside him was screaming at him to just put the fucking axe through Dream’s face, but Dream was so clever; he always knew exactly what to say to derail Tommy, make him doubt himself.

“Know what that means, Tommy?” Dream asked again. The light from the lava behind Tommy painted Dream’s face in an evil red glow. “It means there will be someone to bring me back if I die. I have a safety net. You can’t kill me!”

“No.” Tommy shook his head. “No, no, no, no! You’re lying! All you do is lie, Dream!”

Dream shrugged. “I mean, you can think that, if you want. And who knows, maybe they won’t want to bring me back. But the thing is, now there will always be a chance that I could come back. As long as one person knows how to revive the dead, the dead can’t be gone forever.” Tommy’s eyes widened with the horror of revelation. Deep down, he knew Dream was right. And just like that, his entire plan was all for naught.

“So go ahead, kill me,” Dream continued. “But I’ll never truly be gone. You will always live in fear that one day, I’ll come back. So you see? You can never escape me, no matter what you do.” Dream stepped even closer to Tommy, who was frozen in terror, and put a mangled hand on his shoulder. “Did you actually think,” he said, bending down, his beaten face inches away from Tommy’s, “that you would ever get closure from me?” Tommy’s skin crawled, and every part of him wanted to recoil at Dream’s touch, but he had been cornered against the lava. It burned the back of his neck. “You didn’t actually think I would ever let you be free of me, did you?” Dream’s voice was deathly soft, quiet but dangerous, like hidden poison. “No. You may think you’ve moved on, but I will always reel you back in. You may think you have me under control, but I will always have you right where I want you. You might be able to physically leave this prison, but really, we both know you will always be stuck in here with me.”

Something snapped in Tommy’s mind. Without thinking, without pausing to let his brain register what his arm was doing, Tommy swung his axe. He felt it connect with something solid with a sickening crunch. He pulled back and swung again. And again. And again, even after Dream’s lifeless body fell to the floor. It was as if he had been possessed by a hateful monster, avenging himself for all the suffering Dream had caused him. He didn’t even realize he was screaming until he was out of breath. Tommy continued hacking away until the violent energy seeped from his body, until he was utterly drained.

Tommy stepped back, breathing hard. It was over. It was done. Dream was dead. But was he truly gone? Tommy looked around him, as if Dream’s ghost might be in this very room. Stupid, he chided himself. Tommy wasn’t going to let Dream get the best of him anymore. He was done. Fuck whatever Dream said about there being a chance of him coming back. With new purpose, he cleaned off his axe, wiping away the stain Dream had left on it. Tommy would see to it that Dream stayed dead. This really would be the final visit. Now all he had to do was deal with the person that knew how to use the revive book. Tommy turned away and left the prison. For the last time.

[infartoomanyfandoms]

My Supergirl 6x09 liveblog

- um this looks like the creepy forest Sam went to in her head in S3 when Reign was out

- this is spooky but Nia looks very pretty

- CGI strikes again 🤦‍♀️

-oh this is kindaheartbreaking

- OOOH THERE SHE IS. Why is that lil smirk kinda attractive tho

- GAME NIGHT. God I've missed game night. This is so cute. Everyone looks so good too. I love thissss

- Who's flat is this??

- Aww Dansen hug 🥺

- Alex did you just quote Frozen you big nerd I love you so much 😭

- Nia bby u look so tired </3

-Aw space dad would team up with Lena if she was here. I love that.

- yeah that really is putting it mildly J'onn thank you for that lol. I like that we're acknowledging Brainy and Lena's existence though

-Someone pls hug Nia immediately

- Oh Kelly got a new job!! Good for her 😌

- Ugh god look at these mushballs. I need more Dansen in my life

- oh that was a very abrubt cut lol. But I love Andrea and her whiteboard so much 😂😭

- THE WAY ANDREA JUST TOLD WILLIAM TO JUMP OFF A BRIDGE AHAAADGJK Andrea, bby you can't just be saying that to people

- wait Catco is 3 now, I thought they were at 8? What did I miss, am I dumb? Lol

- okay but I'm legitimately impressed that she fell asleep standing up. How is Andrea just letting her get away with that though??

- Ohhh 🥺 That's actually really sweet. Andrea is a good boss.

- Andrea really said 'William jump off a bridge' and 'Nia take a mental health day' 😂

- I can't get over how proud she is of her whiteboard - Loo at her!! I love her

- Kara honey how have you ever managed to keep 1 single secret in your life. It made me laugh though

- this lady gives me bad vibes

- Oh 🥺 Is this foreshadowing that Kelly's gonna be a great mum? I sure hope so

- I LOVE THIS TINY CHILD SO MUCH. I WANT TO ADOPT HER IMMEDIATELY 😭

- oh this place is not great

- YES look at Kelly go! I kind of want her to be my therapist lmao

- Joey's story is making me tear up big time

- Ugh yes!!!!! This is a team up that I want. Kelly & Kara!! They haven't had scenes alone, ever I think? I'm so excited for this

- wait why is nyxly being helpful? I have my eye on you ma'am. What are you up to? Uh oh this isn't gonna end well is it?

- that once over and sigh was a little 💅 Nyxly calm yourself!

- I'm sorry Nyxly can what!? Damn now the 6x10 promo makes sense

- Oh god this is so clearly manipulation and I wanna know what Nyxly's really up to

- o shit that made me jump

- it's nice to see Kara actually reporting.

-The receptionist is very cute. Miss Receptionist are you single.

- I miss casual use of superpowers so much 😂 They should let Kara do it more

- Melissa is so pretty and it's distracting me from whatever this Second Chances program really is

- J'onn?? Oh the plot thickens

- Hmm I think the Warden is behind it. He sounded like he was hiding something

- Kelly you haven't done anything wrong at all!

- This scene is making me emotional 😭 The tear wiping is so soft. I love them. Alex is such a good support person. More hugging yes!!

- (can someone please spare one for Nia tho 😭 girl is going through it)

- Oh Mr Warden dude you are so guilty

- Kara write the story /now/

- we stan the owl

- This episode feels really long is it just me?

- "Who cares about the ratings?" KARA!! You're right but you only just got your job back by the skin of your teeth, you're lucky Andrea is in a good mood today 😂

-Ew I knew this place was terrible

- I wonder what the significance of Esme is. What's she gonna do? I hope she helps get that awful place shut down

- "I was a fool for believing in him" okay Kara since when were you season 5 Lena 💀

- it's really really good to see Kara actually working again

- oh god this show keeps bringing up Cat Grant, I really want her to make an appearance just once before the show ends

- I knew hew was dirty!!

- YES KELLY!!!!!!

- oh yes, way to make an entrance

- hey you assholes she saved you (understandable to be cautious I guess but come /on/ guys)

- THIS!! This is the heart of this show!! This is what it's needed more of through the years

- Ah look at them actually working!! And I love a happy Andrea ahahaha

- He just smiled like he knew. Does William know?

- Yess for Kelly getting that nasty old woman out of there!

- Brothers reuniting 🤧🤧🤧

- I must say, I love how well all these plots were intertwined this episode

- Hehehe Esme is a smart kid.

- Wait wtf 😭😭 I've known Esme for 38 minutes but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

- GUARDIAN KELLY YESSSSS

- ALEX KNEW SHE WOULD I LOVE SUPPORTIVE GFS. Alex is so proud of her look 😭😭

- oh no this is bad news bears. I trusted the owl.

-ohhhhhh

[littlegalerion]

Been playing way too much Fire Emblem Awakening as of late, and have been envisioning my OCs having the support conversations like what is present in the games. I guess this counts as fanfiction of sorts? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, here’s an example:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXYFS8eggUQ&t=567s

Have Some Abnur and Trechire Support Conversations 

Abnur: Still holding on to your old habits? I would have thought the bear would be bald by now. 

Trechire: He enjoys the brushing.

Abnur: Is it the same bear? Supposedly Wardens just summon them from thin air, but it’s never been explained to me if it’s the same bear each time.

Trechire: Usually, as the bear forms a bond with us, and so recognizes our call and beats out all other competition.

Abnur: Competition?

Trechire: Nature’s furry warriors love to help a Warden in need. It’s their way of showing off. So yes, when a Warden sends their summons, there can be competition.

Abnur: I always meant to delve further into the Warden’s teachings and abilities via our letters. They aren’t very plentiful in Cyrodiil, but gods we could use every edge possible. It gets more and more frustrating every time refugees get preyed upon by the wildlife.

Trechire: I wish you would have said something. I would have come.

Abnur: Not you. Any other Warden, but not you. I didn’t have time for you to pepper me with questions over the Amulet.

Trechire: And how often did I do that in our letters?

Abnur: …

Trechire: That’s what I thought.

Abnur: Regardless, I had every right to be cautious. Only a fool wouldn’t have been. Not to mention you were...not in the right state of mind. Your grief would have clouded your sense of judgement.

Trechire: Or sharpened it. Don’t lecture me like some child or incredibly lucky adventurer. I’ve been through enough to have learned from fatal, stupid mistakes. You were there for some of them. Not to mention I’m far more experienced at dealing with organizing and preserving groups of individuals- for far longer than you.

Abnur: Longer than me? I’ve had to wrangle all of Cyrodiil while stouts raided the henhouse that was the White-Gold Tower, for more than a hundred years.

Trechire: And here Hircine’s lead Alpha stands before you, having served for two hundred and thirty years.

Abnur: You’re two hundred and fifty some years old? Hmph, you look rather remarkable for your age.

Trechire: Thank you, young man.

C Rank Support Achieved

Trechire: The dragons aren’t very keen on laying low. The flying whelps just ravage the landscape with no regard for subtly or risk.

Abnur: They’re giant, naturally armored lizards that can Shout you to death. You expect them to have a concept of such things?

Trechire: I do, especially after we continuously put them down. Even the dumbest animal alive would know to avoid the claws after they’ve been struck by them twice!

Abnur: That many have been slain? Serves me right, neglecting to at least browse over the reports…

Trechire: Oh no, not by Elsweyr’s own. I’ve met with several other pack leaders about the dragons. We agree not only are they perhaps the best prey we’ve ever had the chance to hunt, but they also greatly threaten our territories. Packs have been regrouping, quickly learning how to kill these beasts.

Abnur: So this has officially become some sort of game to lycanthropes?

Trechire: Yes, and be glad for that. I was the one who rallied the packs into this. Thanks to their thirst for such glory, the dragons have been kept at bay from escaping Elsweyr’s borders. Or, at least far from Elsweyr’s borders.

Abnur: I should have realized that. With Cadwell’s constant chatter, Khamira’s vigilance over my every move, and Euraxia’s forces strutting around, flying Imperial flags and making a mockery out of us, I’m spread thin. I can’t be expected to handle everything, or to retain my usual sharp focus.

Trechire: Good thing you have me, then.

Abnur: Perhaps. First I’ll have to see how you handle some wine before bed, and then I’ll comment if you’re worth all the animal fur left all over our equipment.

Trechire: We’re working with khajiit, you know?

Abnur: It isn’t khajiit fur. I’ve checked. I don’t even want to know how or why you brought a pony inside our barracks, just don’t make it a habit!

B Rank Support Achieved

Abnur: Just tell me what you want. I’m too tired to wait around for you to work up the nerve to ask in your own time.

Trechire: Pardon?

Abnur: You’ve been staring at me for the past five minutes. Whatever it is you want, just spit it out. We have dragons literally breathing down our necks.

Trechire: I… was just reflecting on how far you’ve come. You’ve proved to be a good man, Abnur.

Abnur: ...

Trechire: But that’s what concerns me. I’ve seen many prove their worth, but they never survive through their redemption.

Abnur: Redemption? Just what was it I did that I am now redeeming myself of?

Trechire: You placed trust in Mannimarco, even if a small measure of it. I’m not judging. I...I’ve done far worse, and faced the consequences. Rest assured, we’ll save Tamriel just like we did before, but this time no one has any reason to distrust you.

Abnur: I think Khamira disagrees.

Trechire: She’s young, and still bleeding from the loss of her parents, home, stability… If she was totally together, she’d be equally as hostile towards me. I helped you, supported you, in releasing those dragons. Sithis knows, I was the one who did most of the dirty work!

Abnur: Yes, but you have that Galerion charm. I’m certain your father could set fire to the nearest forest, turn around and smile, then easily talk his way out of any charges or suffer any reputation loss. How did the puddle-scrying necromancer put it? “Galerion knows how to warm a heart, so he can easily manipulate and maintain it.”

Trechire: *laughter*

Abnur: That doesn’t offend you?

Trechire: Not at all. It isn’t wrong. Where do you think I learned my diplomacy and persuasion from?

Abnur: Hilarious, but are we done here? We both have more important tasks to attend to.

Trechire: I’m proud of you. That’s all I wanted to say.

Abnur: You can coo at me all you like later tonight, but for now, let’s not get so sickeningly sweet, shall we?

A Rank Support Achieved  

Trechire: What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving?

Abnur: Officially, I left. I told you, I hate parties, not to mention others might start trying to embrace or praise me, much alike you or, worse, Cadwell. But I wasn’t going to leave without finishing what I started.

Trechire: Oh?

Abnur: Would you accept this?

Trechire: A ring? Wait- the gems, those are bits of Welkynd stone!

Abnur: I didn’t think you’d care for a traditional Ring of Mara, given your beliefs, so I had to improvise.

Trechire: ...A Ring of Mara? This… Oh.

Abnur: It stings that you didn’t see this coming.

Trechire: Well, actually...it stung when you left, because… I had had this waiting back in our quarters here for you, after the coronation.

Abnur: You bought a Ring of Mara?

Trechire: I personally hold no regard for the divines, and I know you don’t either, but I thought you’d prefer to stick to tradition.

Abnur: For a two hundred and fifty nine year old mer, you certainly don’t act your age. Buying a ring for me. You should have known better.

Trechire: And miss your face growing this lovely shade of red? Or the chance to prove I’m long past my days of being intimidated by such things? But the fact of the matter is- I love you, Abnur, and for however long it is Tamriel allows us to still draw breath, I want to spend it as your wife.

Abnur: ...And I would gladly spend that time as your husband. Just so you know, however, I didn’t ask for your father’s blessing, and I wasn’t going to propose some grand wedding-

Trechire: Thank Sithis for that! You’d have given him a heart attack, and can you imagine the crowd we’d draw for a full, proper wedding? I can already hear Vivec sobbing obsessively, and loudly enough that no one can hear the vows being exchanged.

Abnur: Just a private exchange of vows, within one of these temples. But for validation, I have the documentation all ready to go for proof of marriage. We just need witnesses.

Trechire: I absolutely adore you.

Abnur: Restrain yourself until after the ceremony. I know that’s an impossible struggle, but know that I have faith in you, my love.

S Rank Support Achieved

[the-lightning-mage]

Inquisition OC as a Companion

I’ve already made a post about some stuff about Holly, but I love the format @little-lightning-lavellan​ made, and it really made me think. The picture is my best attempt at making her on artbreeder. 

You have selected Holly Trevelyan to join your party!

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Class: Mage

Specialization: Rift mage

Background:

Holly Trevelyan is the second youngest of seven children born to Bann and Lady Trevelyan. Born in 9:12 Dragon, she is also the only mage of the family. She came into her magic when she was 12, and thus spent most of her life in the Circle. Due to the more lax nature of the Ostwick Circle, and her being from a noble family, she was able to regularly send and receive letters. The only person she ever really got letters from is her younger sibling. This caused them to be incredibly close despite the distance.

In her early years she spent most of her time studying healing magic in hopes it would help let her get out of the circle. After lots of discouragement, she ended up giving up on that dream. Instead she focused her studies on storm based magic, as she had always found rain and thunder comforting.

After reading several books, and hearing several accounts as to how much more advanced Tevinter magic could be in certain areas, she had a new goal. She decided to try to harness electrical based magic so that it could be used as an energy source. This path has led to her becoming one of the most powerful storm based mages in Thedas.

When the talks of rebellion began, she was a part of them. She hated being cooped up all the time, and she had heard horror stories of how other mages were treated. When the rebellion began, she was not so involved. She was horrified by the levels of wrathful violence some of her peers employed. She spent a lot of time helping people escape. When she herself did, she knew that the entirety of the rebellion could not be like that, and she seriously considered joining them. Instead she decided to go find her younger sibling. That choice only solidified when she heard of what happened to the Conclave.

She becomes a rift mage because that is what either a. Killed her sibling or b. Almost killed them.

Dragon Age: Inquisition

She arrives in Haven shortly before the party leaves to address the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She shows up not to necessarily join the Inquisition, but in an attempt to find out what happened to her sibling. She can be found just outside the gates near the stables arguing with Cullen, demanding information.

If the Inquisitor is human, and thus her sibling, the conversation to recruit her flows a lot more smoothly. She will then ask to be part of the Inquisition, saying she damn near had a heart attack when she thought they had died, and that they had been apart for far, far too long. If she is refused, the Inquisitor will tell her to go home. There will be a war table mission to ensure she gets there safely. If she is accepted, she rises through the ranks rather quickly due to her skill. Solas will accuse the Inquisitor of nepotism.

If the inquisitor is not human, she will get emtional, wanting to know where her sibling is. She will demand to join the Inquisition to get justice for her fallen sibling. If denied, she will join the rebel mages instead. If they are sided with, she will technically be part of the Inquisition, but not as a companion. If not, she discovers Dorian, gives him what info she has, and flees. If she is accepted, there will be a war table mission to find her sibling’s remains or something they had on them.

In Haven, she can be found near the Inquisitor’s cabin. In Skyhold she can be found in one of the unused towers near Cullen’s office. It will have fancy looking equipment for her experiments.

She can be used to gather rebel mage support.

Approval and Romance

As they are siblings, human Inquisitors will have an easier time gaining approval, but for certain situations, they will face greater disapproval than non-humans. For example, non-humans will get “Holly disapproves” if they conscript the mages instead of treating them as allies, but humans will get “Holly greatly disapproves.”

When it comes to the big decisions, like what to do with the Wardens, who goes into the Well of Sorrows, etc. She tends to take in all of the “what ifs?” and bases her own opinions on that rather than her own morals. She may not like a decision, but if she thinks it will ultimately have the best out come, that is the one she goes with.

She likes to view most things from every angle she can. She prefers more merciful forms of justice, and can tend to be very forgiving. She likes it when the Inquisitor tries their best to understand others, while not necessarily condoning their actions. She likes it when they help those in need, though not as much as Cole does.

She can only be romanced by non human Inquisitors for obvious reasons, and she can be romanced by both men and women. If neither she or Cullen are romanced, they will end up in a relationship together. Instead of having a big romance scene, at high levels of approval, human Inquisitors will get an emotional scene where she tells them just how much she was worried about them.

Her personal quest involves her closest friend from the Circle. He sends her a letter telling her that he alive, and would love to catch up. It turns out to be a ploy, as he betrays her. He can be killed or talked down and shown mercy.

Her romance quest involves taking her to a few different locations throughout Orlais and Ferelden.

Trespasser

High Approval: She stayed with the Inquisition over the last to years as their advisor on matters of the Arcane. She presents them a unique weapon she had been working on in free time. Romance does not change this.

Low Approval if Cullen was romanced: She spent the last two years traveling. Seeing the world she never could see before. She helps and sends word back to the Inquisition when need be.

Low Approval if Cullen was not romanced: She remains with the Inquisition, helping where she can. She spends a lot of time helping Cullen figure out how to best utilize the mages.

Post trespasser: She spends much of her time working, and when she is able to get a working prototype she presents it to whatever Mage authority there is, and gets funding. It helps propel mages into good opinion. Details about her relationship are shared.

Combat Comments

Killing an enemy:

“Block this!”

“Eat ash!”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me!”

Low health:

“Do we have another healer?”

“Armor failed me.”

“Help!”

Low health Inquisitor and Companions:

“Inquisitor!”

“Brother/Sister!”

“I’m on my way Dorian.”

“Maker, someone help the Seeker.”

“I’ve got you, Varric.”

“Shit... Bull!”

“Cole’s down!”

Other

Approaching camp: “I’ve always want to go camping.” “I’m not expert, but this seems like a lovely place to stop?”

Approaching a High Dragon: “Are they really that big?”

Using an ocularum for the first time: “Are you sure you don’t want me to examine it first?”

Picking up shards after finding the temple: “What are these doing all the way out here?”

Location Comments

Arbor Wilds: “It’s a shame we have to fight here.”

Old Crestwood: “No wonder they’re having problems with undead. Look at all the spirits.” “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Emerald Graves: “Am I the only one who thinks this place is beautiful?” “Wow....”

Emprise du Lion: “This... this is why I wear a cloak.” “I should summon some lightning. Start a fire and destroy the red lyrium. Two birds with one stone.”

Exalted Plains: “They really could not think of a worse name.” “A place that is a monument to humanity’s evil taken over by demons. Ironic.”

The Fallow Mire: “Ugh.” “I think I saw a bug the size of my hand.” “I love nature, but I hate this place.”

Forbidden Oasis: “This place would be nice if it weren’t for the Venatori... and the giant.” “I’m confused. Why is they’re a temple here? Who built it?”

Hinterlands: “Can we visit Redcliffe?” “So much chaos....” “We can help the people here, right?”

Hissing Wastes: “How do I have sand in my armor?” “Dwarven ruins on the surface? This is a dream come true.” “Great. Venatori.”

Storm Coast: “Crossing the Waking Sea was my favorite part of getting here.” “I actually quite like the weather.” “I wonder... is this place more prone to lightning storms?”

Western Approach: “Talk about a wasteland.” “Poison hot springs and chasms into the Deep Roads? At least there are ruins.” “I suppose this is a good place for nefarious deeds.”

Advisor and Companion comments

Blackwall: “She’s very dedicated and has a good heart. She’s what people should think of when they hear “mage.””

Cassandra: “She is very dedicated to the cause, though I worry she might set fire to Skyhold with one of her... experiments.”

Cole: “Trapped. Walled in. Caged like a fancy bird. Not anymore, but she stays because she wants to help. Is helping. She’s good, like her healing spells.”

Cullen: “She’s dedicated, clever, and very, very persistent. She’s been a great help with the mages.”

If in a relationship with her: “She’s... amazing, isn’t she? I’m not sure what she sees in me.”

Dorian: “You don’t find many people so open to new ideas, or people that are that accepting. She is excellent company.”

Iron Bull: “She’s different from the other mages. Too entrenched in her work to boast about it. Way more practical. I have a lot of respect for what she’s trying to do.”

Josephine: “Though I wish we could make better use of her noble ties. She is invaluable, and holds great conversations.”

Leliana: “It’s not often you meet someone who has truly nothing to hide.”

Sera: “I dunno. She makes too much sense for a mage, ya know? At least she’s pretty.”

Solas: “Holly? Ah. We don’t particularly get along, but I approve of what she is trying to do, and has accomplished.”

Varric: “You wouldn’t guess it, but Bookworm is just as good in battle as she is in that tower of hers. Thank the maker it takes a lot to piss her off. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of her lightning bolts.”

Vivienne: “I’ll be honest, I do not agree with her on everything, but at least she is loyal. Her work ethic is to be admired as well. She dresses rather simply though.”

Trivia

At first, everyone thinks Holly is the nickname Varric gave her. It doesn’t match her personality.

While she may not believe Dorian about the time magic, she immediately believes him and Felix about the Venatori. She had heard rumors about them before the events of Hushed Whispers, but nothing concrete enough to tell anyone.

Her relationship with Cullen starts with him asking her if she can soothe headaches. She has somewhat of a reputation for her healing magic, even if she doesn’t use it much.

She is an excellent singer.

Like Solas and Varric, she acts like a parent towards Cole.

If the Inquisitor is a human man who romances Dorian, she’ll tease him for having a type.

[queer-as-used-by-tolkien]

OMG the headcanon ask, I want to ask all of them but lest see... 3, 17 and 20? Bonus question 24: Do you have any headcanons about Laranthir of the Wild's name? What does 'of the Wild' mean? Is it a title? Why does he get called that?

Thank you for asking!! Sorry for responding so late, I've been busy and these questions are tough. I have literally never thought of the answers to these, but I'll do my best to come up with something!

3: How big is the Pact in respect to other military forces? Who supports them monetarily (they've had enough resources to build Fort Trinity long before it was certain they could even take Zhaitan).

Well I actually have encountered this question before, and my answer has always been: it doesn't matter, it's a fantasy world and I'll just ignore this logistic question. But I'm actually thinking maybe the concept of fighting the dragons is a tad more widespread than we're lead to believe, or at least - we're given the impression that if you're anti-dragon, you're in the Pact, but I don't think so.

In the American Civil War, if I remember correctly, three percent of the population was fighting, ten more percent was supporting in other ways, twenty more percent generally agreed with the war and provided things like encouragement, I guess. My numbers could be off or which war it was could be off, but I imagine something like that is vaguely true for all wars - some fight, more support, and even more agree. But I imagine the Vigil and some of the Order of Whispers was the three percent, and the Priory and some of the Whispers were the ten percent, plus a bunch of civilians who decided their contribution would be monetary support. Of course these demographics would shift as the wars went on, and especially after the World Summit, in Elona, and of course there was all sorts of mass confusion during HoT and IBS.

I imagine most of the Pact's monetary support comes from individual donors and not, like, companies, and it's a military organization so it wouldn't fall under the domain of a charity organization. I think there is actually a dialogue in the Vigil Keep about preparing for like a fundraiser or something.

As to how the Pact compares to other military forces - on the one hand, I would be inclined to say it is small because I get the general impression that being a fighter of dragons is sort of a niche occupation, and if you are a member of the Pact that's like something really strange and if you're in like a town or something and say you're a member, people will flock to you in curiosity or else think you're a weirdo - at least during the PS. (There was far more worldbuilding in the PS than in anything after just because of the number of zones and ambient dialogue and all the questlines, so I tend to headcanon everything into PS first before sprouting up into present-day.) But at the same time I'm thinking - the Pact's success can't stem just from being a union of the Orders and being ridiculously passionate about their thing. They've got to have some significant numbers.

They're multi-national and multi-Order, so you'd think this is a big sprawling group of people with representatives in every town, and in one sense that fits as well, and is probably more lore-accurate, but my gut kinda says they're still small. Maybe they're just small in comparison with the Elder Dragons, and that's where I get that feeling. Honestly, I have no idea, but either they're huge or they're tiny, and I have no idea which. I mean, if you're a member of X race and you want to fight, you can either join your race's military/self-defense system (Seraph, Wardens, Wolfborn, Peacemakers, Lionguard, and of course the charr have military that military this all over the place) OR you can join the Pact, and that depends on what you want to fight or whether you feel strongly about the dragons. Like, you can't be drafted into the Pact, whereas I imagine the Seraph might.

So - no clue! But there's some thoughts to keep you company XD.

17: With both rifles and bows existing next to each other, what technology do rifles use? Flintlocks? Do they have magazines? Breach- or frontloaders?

I'll be honest, I have no idea what flintlocks and breachloaders are, and I have a suspicion about frontloaders. But I get the idea!

I saw one response to this question that explained different races/cultures have different styles and different technologies based on their priorities, and I think I agree with this, but also: a bow isn't just a projectile-firing weapon that is outclassed by a gun. Guns are noisy, for one thing, and it's generally inadvisable to use one unless you have training with it. Bows are both simpler to learn and understand, easier to maintain, etc.

But one consideration is this: magic. Perhaps guns and bows interact with magic differently (wood/string vs metal), and so based on your priorities, you'll use one over the other and they can both hold their own in their different contexts.

I don't know the first thing about rifles, as I mentioned above, but I'd generally assume they're built like our Earth rifles - not modern gunnery, I mean I don't see machine guns (although we've seen golems spray projectiles everywhere, so that might count) in Tyria, so maybe an older version of what we have.

One important distinction to make is that, while on Earth we've moved to entirely ranged, bullet-firing monstrosities, as far as I know, Tyria hasn't. Guns are just another type of weapon, and if you prefer a sword, go for it! Maybe guns are still awkward and unwieldy, but my opinion is that bullet wounds are simply laughable.

We're in Tyria here. We have healing magic around every corner. A bullet wound might kill a person or take him down temporarily, but then he's up again. Arrow wounds are more difficult to heal and you're more likely to bleed out or something. I think this is the real reason behind such weapon disparity in Tyria - it's that unless you get a lethal blow that kills quickly, they're gonna get healed, so if you're good with one weapon and good at killing quickly, it doesn't really matter so long as you stay alive and they don't. (And this is also why Risen are so horrific in canon - they don't die when they should. Stab through the heart? You're trained to aim for the quick kill, but quick kill assumes they're not already dead. You have to hack at extremities to neutralize a Risen opponent and it's just - shiver.)

20: How much has Orr been restored at this point?

It's cleansed of corruption but lacks natural nutrients in the soil for things to grow! (I answered this in a similar fashion to above here.)

24 (Wild Card): Do you have any headcanons about Laranthir of the Wild's name? What does 'of the Wild' mean? Is it a title? Why does he get called that?

I have not thought about this, but off the top of my head: maybe he was the first sylvari to befriend a charr? He's a Secondborn, so that's feasible. Or maybe he gained that title from the wanderings he did that led to him meeting Almorra.

But also, the most defining element of his character is that he's always sought love. So maybe he calls himself 'of the Wild' to indicate he's sort - out on his own, in this wilderness that is Tyria, without a companion to lean on. So he's got this sort of wild, hollow, aloneness vibe, like a traveler looking for something that he can never find. (Ouch that's giving me goosebumps already.) Now think about IBS and Darkrime Delves.

----

I am aware these replies (esp the first two!) are very rambly and only pick up coherence at the end, but I think through talking. I looked through this to try and take out unnecessary stuff but... it was all relevant... XDD (this happens when trying to tl;dr my own notes to myself as well haha) Again, thanks for asking!! I like coming up with these XDD.