#or rather: morrigan's “robes”

[secretsimpleness]

The disappointment.

Warden Surana, Morrigan / Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware

[theladyofbloodshed]

Who We Could Have Been - A Mor & Nesta friendship

A little one-shot set during the first week when Nesta is in Velaris after entering the Cauldron. It shows the Mor that I wished we saw, the care that I wished Nesta received, and a friendship that was never allowed to grow <3

It scratched at the windowsill, a never ending scrape-scrape. Nesta pulled the pillow over her head, wishing the bird would make the dive from its nest and splatter below rather than having to endure another moment of it thrashing and cheeping from the nest. Even the feathers in the pillow were too loud to her ears, the scrunch of the sheets too much. She took a respite in the bathroom, glad for the cool water that she splashed on her face and neck.

Velaris was a hell. Being fae was a nightmare. Her body was alien to her, the movements foreign and lumbering like a newborn lamb. Nesta moved quicker now as evidenced by the number of times she’d overbalanced with her steps. It was not only speed. Her body was stronger. The soaked nightgown that she’d been brought here in had ripped in two when she tried to pull it off her body, so she’d been left naked and crying in the bedroom whilst searching for the promised robes that were within.

Maybe another might be glad for the speed and strength, but Nesta hated it. Her senses were amplified; the colours brighter, her hearing tuning in to every slight sound, she could smell when one of them was cooking at the other end of the house – and that always had a far richer taste than she was used to. For the first couple of days, all Nesta could stomach was dry toast. It was all too rich, too heavy for her new-found palette.

A soft knock at the door came as it did every morning around this time. The others left them alone, which Nesta was glad for. Hopefully, the blonde one would get the hint soon enough.

Morrigan never did.

The key in the door was useless because she used her magic to turn it back around, so Nesta had to wonder why they even bothered with locks in Prythian if people came and went as they pleased.

‘Good morning. How do you feel today?’

Nesta pressed her hands to her temples, the noise shooting through her.

‘Do you have a headache again?’ Mor took a step forwards. She tilted her head so blonde hair cascaded across her face. ‘Shall I send for Madja?’

‘I do not want that woman anywhere near me,’ declared Nesta.

That rotten healer had smiled at her and said everything was perfect. It was not perfect. It was far from perfect. It was long limbs and pointed ears and everything too damn loud.

She clutched her head, voice rising, ‘Will that bird leap to its death or leave me the hell alone?’

Morrigan’s eyes widened then she held up a finger. ‘One moment.’

While she departed, Nesta perched on a sliver of the mattress. Buried beneath layers of blankets, despite the warm spring morning, Elain slept soundly. She reminded Nesta of a girl from a story who pricked her finger and slept for a thousand years. To the fae, that was probably nothing. A blink of an eye and they welcomed a new millennium. She ran a hand against Elain’s face then shivered at the sound of her hair sliding over itself.

‘Ta-da!’

Mor held out a mass of fluffy, white fur.

‘What am I meant to do with that?’

The woman had no bearings on propriety. She crowded Nesta’s space as she placed the two balls of fur against her ears. Her fingers were warm on the points of Nesta’s ears, but she still felt revulsed by somebody touching them. They were a reminder of what she was.

When Morrigan stepped away, it was… better. The sound was muffled. Less intense.

‘Ear muffs! I forgot to give them back to Viviane last time I visited her, but if they work then they work.’

Nesta could finally breathe. The brightness and taste, she could manage. The bombardment of sound had been a constant battle that had been wearing her down.

‘Does that feel better, Nesta?’

She didn’t know why but she felt heat building in her face as tears prickled her eyes. ‘Yes.’

Mor touched her hand. ‘This is new ground for us too. We don’t know the ways in which you’re struggling so I’ll need you to be vocal.’ Her fingers slipped into Nesta’s. ‘You're not a burden for telling us what you need. I know it’s scary. I can’t imagine how you feel. But I’m here. We are all here for you – and Elain – for as long as it takes.’

The final portion of the dam collapsed and a flood of tears broke through. She was not one for weeping or embraces. Tears were to be briefly shed alone then forgotten about. Servants were forbidden from coddling them – and her mother was not the sort to do it either. Yet, when Mor instinctively moved forwards and wrapped her arms around Nesta, she was so grateful for that touch. To not be the one having to hold it all together. To have a moment where she didn’t need to worry about Elain.

‘Let’s go for a chat,’ the woman said against her cheek.

‘Elain,’ began Nesta.

‘Elain is asleep. We won’t be far.’

It was against her better judgement, but Nesta followed. In the week since they had been taken from their beds, Nesta had barely seen beyond the four walls of the bedroom. She’d cloistered herself in there, unable to take any more change.  It was a prison. A prison to fester.

‘We’re quite high up in the house, so we won’t winnow yet if the noise is too much. Velaris can be… loud,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘Do you paint like Feyre?’

‘No.’

‘A shame,’ said Mor as they walked through a red-walled corridor with brightly coloured rugs strewn about haphazardly as if they had too many that they didn’t know what to do with them. ‘Velaris is known for its artists’ quarter. We’ve got lots of markets too if you’re a food lover.’

Disappointment grew in her. ‘Not particularly.’

‘No matter. What do you like to do, Nesta?’

Upset my sisters. Ruin my future.

‘Read.’

Could nothing dim Morrigan’s cheery disposition? Her eyes had blown wide with delight. ‘Oh, do I have the perfect place. Wait. Maybe not today,’ she pondered aloud. ‘Lots of priestesses. Lots of noise. But,’ Mor took her by the hand like she was a child’s plaything. ‘Yes! Let’s go.’

Nesta tried not to frown as she was tugged along the corridor then down a set of steps. Something sweet was baking in the oven, the smell wafting towards them. But it was not the kitchen that Mor towed her towards. They reached a set of double doors where Mor gave her a knowing look.

‘Behold,’ she whispered, pushing open a door.

Rows and rows of books filled her vision. It was a library. A personal library stacked with shelves, each one begging Nesta to run her eyes along it and choose a title.

She moved to take a step then held herself back.

‘It’s okay,’ Mor reassured her, touching her arm. ‘Go in. Have a look. Take as much time as you need. I need to get something – unless you want me to stay?’

‘I can be alone,’ Nesta replied.

The library was warm with wedges of sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. The books in its path had spines damaged by sunlight so the leather was fading. Nesta stood in the light, letting it soak into her bones. Her finger trailed along one shelf, tracking each book and wondering which to read. There were sections on the arts, history, geography, poetry, foreign books – and even a whole section dedicated to fiction. Father always said it was a waste of time. Nothing could be learnt from a story. Mother despised reading entirely.

Why must your head be filled with words? A husband will not take to being outwitted by his wife.  

Their scoldings could never staunch her desire. Nesta had read in secret, had stolen books from father’s collection at night and returned them in the morning. She’d begged the housekeeper to buy her them and she’d find the money from somewhere.

When Nesta was already a chapter deep into a heavy, ancient book about the history of the Night Court, Morrigan returned.

‘I bring snacks,’ she announced.

A handful of cakes had been artfully arranged on a plate, their icing colourful and appetising.

Mor caught her gazing at them. ‘Take one. I brought them for you.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes, you can.’

Why did it feel like a weakness to admit the ways in which she was struggling? It wasn’t Nesta’s fault that she was in this life. Not her fault that it was new and scary.

‘Everything tastes so strong.’

Morrigan gave a murmur of understanding. ‘Feyre suffered with that. She just had to push through and get used to it, I think. I wish she was here. She’d be a better help.’ Mor just shrugged, letting the words roll away. ‘What about tea? Can you manage that?’

One of the strange women appeared from the shadows, as if she had always been there.  Nesta was sure that sometimes she blurred at the edges as though not quite real.

‘Is that alright, Cerridwen?’

The woman nodded then vanished again.

Mor leaned forwards and rested her chin on a closed fist. ‘What are you reading?’

‘A history of this court.’ Nesta swallowed. This woman was trying to make conversation, trying to help. Being prickly would only push away the help. ‘All I’ve ever been told is that faeries cannot lie and they will enjoy hurting us. I don’t know anything. I don’t know how long you live, who are your enemies – if you can lie.’

‘We can lie. We can touch iron. We can step across a circle.’

‘What a list of talents you have,’ came a drawling man’s voice.

Oh. It was him.

As Cassian approached, carrying a tray of tea, Nesta’s body coiled tight like a snake ready to strike if he came too close.

Mor gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘I’m helping Nesta to understand how fantastic we are.’

‘Oh, you’re a historian? When did I miss that?’ Cassian came around the back of Nesta’s chair, taking a deliberately longer route to get to the space on the table, before putting down the tray.

‘And you’re a waiter now?’

Cassian threw Mor a wink as he poured the tea for the two of them. ‘A male of many talents.’

His eyes slid to Nesta, cataloguing all of the changes in her. She’d not seen him since he was bleeding out on the floor in Hybern’s castle. She remembered the twitch of his fingers, the jerk of his bloody wings.

‘Your wings have healed,’ she stated.

Cassian slowly – ever so slowly – dipped his chin like he was in disbelief that she’d noticed they were not ruined ribbons hanging behind him. ‘They’re not as they were. I need to practise flying. I’ll, uh, be flying here often to strengthen them.’

His eyes dipped to her lips as she brought the scalding cup to her lips only to have something to do with her hands.

Those words hung there. An offer if she wanted to take it. He’d come here again if she wanted to see him?

‘Shoo,’ said Mor. ‘I have an in-depth history of the Hewn City to tell Nesta and I won't have you spoiling it with stories of how amazing you are.’

Cassian held up his hands. ‘Nes, if you want to know about brave warriors, I’m waiting.’

Long after Cassian departed, Nesta was still on a cloud somewhere. Mor’s words hardly registered although at any other time, Nesta would have been riveted with the history of Morrigan’s family. Her mind was caught on a pair of hazel eyes and a teasing grin. Cassian hadn’t commented on the ear muffs she wore or that she was even out of the bedroom.

For hours they talked, conversation swirling from serious discussions about the political alignment of the Night Court to the best boutiques for clothing and embarrassing stories about Cassian – of which Morrigan had plenty. When Nesta finally gave in to the squirming guilt that encouraged her to check in on Elain and be with her, Mor insisted she take a few library books with her and also insisted that Nuala and Cerridwen would be happy to make her whatever food she wanted as long as she asked them.

‘I’m really glad you came out of the room,’ said Mor, linking her arm with Nesta’s on the walk back. ‘Same again tomorrow?’

Tomorrow. Tomorrow meant a future. It meant no longer hiding. It meant accepting that this was her life.

Nesta offered a short smile. ‘I can do tomorrow.’

[recreationalfanfics]

An Unstable Atmosphere

Part 1

Summary: You attempt to escape when you wake up in the captain's quarters of the Morrigan.

Note: Yandere themes, somewhat unserious banter at the end, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story

When you wake up, your eyelids still feel heavy and you feel like a stranger in your body as you feel all sorts of pains and aches. Your stinging eyes have a harder time adjusting to the light, your muscles ache and creak as if they will give out from under you as you pull yourself up, and you touch your lip which feels puffy and bruised. When the dull pain makes you flinch, everything comes back to you. The mass murder of everyone you knew, the way you were beaten around by Templar footmen and…

  And Shay. 

Now in a panic, you throw the blanket off of your form and inspect the area around you. The first thing you realize is that you were below deck on a ship, and the second thing you realize is that it was specifically the Captain’s quarters judging from the desk of a scattered yet neat pile of paperwork and the giant portrait of the dreaded traitor himself. If you recalled the rumors and stories to be true, Shay was about only two or three years older than yourself when he became an official Assassin, but seeing the portrait and remembering his face honestly made it hard to picture. You had to give credit to the artist where it was due, they captured his imposing and austere eyes rather well that it sent shivers down your spine, but it only made it harder for you to picture that his aged and hardened face was ever an assassin. He truly looked like a Templar, hateful and evil. 

You hesitantly step your feet onto the ground as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking in more details of the area. You still bore your robes and your hood seemed to be sitting on the back of the chair. Your paranoid eyes look at the door and then towards the window; as if a Templar was randomly going to jump out and attack you, but once you gain the piece of mind; you stand up and walk towards the chair to grab your robes and make your outfit whole once more. Despite the pounding in your chest and the overall awfulness of the situation, there is a small amount you gain as you pull your hood over your head and it gives you motivation.

You’re alive…for now. May as well keep testing Lady Fate.

You briefly glance over the papers but find nothing of use, you also realize that your wrist piece with your hidden blade was not attached to your robe and was nowhere to be found, but you weren’t really surprised by that realization. It wouldn’t have done you much good anyways, seeing as you were never really handy with weapons, but your mentors often told you that you had a gift for stealth and having the element of surprise on your side. The very least you can do for those mentors is believe in their words and in yourself as you get your boots on and walk towards the door, pressing your ear against it. The chatter is rather low and soft and you don’t hear the sound of many scuffling feet, not to mention that you still hear the sound of seagulls which is a very good sign that you’re still nearby land but the ship is definitely still moving.

They’re in the middle of casting off.

With a closing time gap, your thoughts come together to come up with a very poorly thought out plan but one you felt would be your best bet. You would certainly be outnumbered but if you were quick enough, you’d be able to escape the remaining guards below deck and everyone else above deck would be too busy readying the ship to notice you escaping right away, and that once you managed to get to shore; you’d either buy yourself enough time to get a headstart before they turned their ship around or they’d simply deem you unimportant and continue their sailing to do whatever high ranking templars as Shay did. Grabbing your pillows and blankets, you take a deep breath before slamming the door open and throwing them at the first two templars you see guarding your door. You don’t catch their panicked yelling and you knock over everything in your path until you find the stairs. 

A little earlier, Shay was steering the boat; pondering over his own morals and choices. It was clear that while his crew didn’t voice it, they were all very confused why he of all people allowed the little assassin who was currently asleep in his quarters to live. Now that Shay thought about it, he couldn’t really understand it himself; obviously, it was unfortunate that someone that young became an assassin but you weren’t exactly the first novice assassin he had to face. Although, there was a huge difference between you and your unfortunate peers; while they foolishly overestimated their abilities and underestimated his experience because they equated their youth to superiority, you were just…helpless. Like a baby bird with a broken wing, at the mercy of the wolves around you, Shay just couldn’t help but want to take you under his wing and keep you safe. Unlike the others who were too arrogant and humbled in their last moments, there was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you die, and that in such a short amount of time; you’ve endeared yourself to him. 

It was wrong, he thought to himself. The very thought of you being killed despite being a part of the organization that betrayed him long ago felt…wrong. As he tucked you in the bed of his quarters, his hand gently caressed the side of your face, and for a brief moment; he felt a sense of familial connection. One that he hadn’t felt in a long time since his dear friend Liam and he realized he could not lose it. He could not lose you. There was no doubt in Shay’s mind that you needed him, especially as his eyes glazed over the injuries on your face with disgust, but he also knew that he needed you in his life just as much. He needed to protect and watch over you. He needed to teach you the ways of the world and softly introduce you to harsh truths. He needed you to look up at him and see him as not a disgraced assassin or as an untrustworthy Templar but as an idol, a mentor, and maybe even a father. There was an oddly warm feeling in his heart at that thought but he is pulled out of that daze the moment he hears loud clattering coming from the hatch that led below deck and that soon enough, your hooded figure pops out from it and immediately darts towards the side of the ship.

“STOP THEM!” Shay roars, he feels his body instantly become hysterical.

Side-eyeing the dock, it was far away that you couldn’t jump on it and make your escape back to land but it was close enough that it would take just a few strokes and a climb up and you’d be gone. By yourself, all alone, in the big cruel world. While some part of Shay expected you to pull something like this, a large part of him was slightly impressed but mostly worried. After all, once you got off his ship; where would you run to? All nearby guilds were already killed and the ones who managed to flee had escaped and erased all tracks for you to follow. You weren’t even armed with a weapon and you had no money. 

As he questioned your poorly thought-out idea after ordering his men to stop you, he also instantly turned his wheel to steer his ship further from the dock and more into the ocean. He yells out another order to go full sail and that immediately heightens the sense of urgency you had already. One of his men tries to tackle you but you duck out of the way and slide between the legs of another who tried to grab you in his arms. You reacted quicker than you did yesterday and it definitely impressed him and even reminded him of himself when he was younger. 

“I’ve got ‘em, Captain!” The navigator beside him shouted, Shay heard the sound of him withdrawing his pistol and he immediately turned around to grab his arm and quickly aim it anywhere else that wasn’t you.

As the two men scuffled, you yelped when you heard the gunshot. Failing to realize that it was nowhere near you but also not really caring, you dodge the last of his men near the edge and you reach the edge and perch yourself on it. Shay catches a glimpse of you as you try not to think about the water below and that the distance isn’t getting any shorter the longer you wait. 

“FULL SAIL!” Someone yells.

It doesn’t take long before the wind fills the sails and the change of speed is drastic. Much so that you stumble from your spot and yell as you fall over, your hand managing to grab the side.

“NO!” Shay cries, immediately bolting towards you.

The sea spray kisses your boots and you look back at the dock, amazed and upset by how quickly the ship got away but if you let go right now, maybe you could still make it. You pinch your nose and close your eyes to ready yourself for the water but as you let go of the side of the ship, two large hands grab your wrist. You’re nothing more than a rag doll as you’re roughly hoisted away from the side and onto the ship’s floor. You stare up and your heart drops in your chest as Shay kneels in front of you, much like he did yesterday, but this time he put a hand on your shoulder. It was a tight grip, one that despite his gloves and your robes, you could feel his nails digging into you like a predator desperately clutching onto its prey. His face looks worried but you don’t know why, maybe because his prisoner or hostage or whatever he saw you as nearly escaped. 

“Do you know how reckless that was!?” He hisses at you, his eyes now narrowing.

Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your throat runs dry and you can’t seem to find a response. However, it didn’t really matter if you could or not because Shay quickly pulls you up to your feet and leads you back down below deck. He takes in the turned-over tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous things. His door swung a little most likely from the event that just occurred above deck. Then he finds his anger calming down and he briefly feels amused when he sees the blanket and pillow from his quarters haphazardly strewn on the ground outside, quickly gathering that you most likely threw them at the guards. Meanwhile, you struggle against his grasp and demand he let you go, knowing that it’d fall on deaf ears. Regardless of how you try to squirm out of it, it is all in vain.

He soon sits you on the bed as he slams the door shut, his other hand now grips your free shoulder and now it’s just you and him.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, trying not to be threatening but the frustration in his voice was clear. After a night of rest, you’re able to fake a brave face as you mimic his expression, furrowing your brows and trying to form your lips into a scowl as equally severe looking as his.

“Where are you taking me?” You shot back.

His expression changes, seeing you doing your best to look threatening, and he fights the urge to pinch your cheek fondly and tease you for it. Already, he feels an old part of himself reawaken, a more softer and tender side that he had thought years of being a Templar had washed away. When he pulls his hands away from you and crosses them over his chest, he becomes noticeably less angry but he still keeps his somber appearance.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to ask questions?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You simply respond with a, “Don’t care. Where are you taking me?” 

The silence is loud, uncomfortably so. However, your apprehension soon turns into frustration. This man had murdered your found family, this man was a selfish self-righteous traitor, and not to mention that for some sick reason; he kept you alive. The very least he could do is give you some answers. You open your mouth to once again demand answers but he beats you to it.

“Here’s how this is gunna’ work now.” He begins finally, “I ask a question, you answer. Then you ask me, and I’ll answer.” 

“How do I know you’ll be honest?”

The corners of his mouth upturned into a little smile, one that only increased the rage and fear brewing deeply within you.

“I’ll be as honest as you are. And trust me, I’ll know when you tell me a lie.” He answers, sounding somewhat genuine but your mind remains ever skeptical. Leaning on the side of his desk, arms still crossed, he gives a look that almost reminds you of a parent staring down their child, “Do you understand?”

You stay silent out of malice and spite for a while but then your eyes look to the side in defeat, “Yes…”

“Good. First question: What’s your name?”

“Hezekiah Needleman.” 

His head lops to the side a little and he gives you a long stare, clearly not amused by your false answer, and you couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit smug at his reaction before you say: “Alright, fine…It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).”

“See how easy that was? Now, (Y/n), it’s your turn to ask a question-”

“Where are you taking me?” You demand once again.

“Home.”

It was a simple one-worded answer in any other situation, but in this context, it was like a baffling riddle. Raising more questions than answers, your expression becomes bewildered, “What do you mea-”

“Ah-ah, (Y/n). S’my turn,” He chides as unfolds his arms, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leans further onto it. You glare at him but stay silent so he can get his question over with, “Why did you join the assassins?” 

This question takes you off guard and your hand reaches to your other arm and grips it, a visible sign of discomfort, and your eyes quickly sadden in such a way that Shay almost wants to take back his question, unsure of what wounds he might’ve just opened.

“They raised me, why wouldn’t I?” You say, hatred once again growing for the man who stood across from you.

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, his intrigue growing.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?” You snapped. He wants to say something, to have the last word, but even he admits to himself he walked into that one. So he silently nods, a quiet gesture that lets you know it’s your turn to ask a question.

“What do you mean you’re taking me ‘home’? Where is this ship going?” 

Shay tries to figure out what he’s going to say, how he can explain it to you even though he struggles to really explain it himself. 

“Back to my estate. Where I will train you and show you what the Brotherhood really is.”

You open your mouth, again frustrated with how vague and confusing his answers are but then you close your mouth, not wanting to set yourself up for another pointless tease from him. Shay, quite pleased with your lack of rebuttal, then asks you: “Now, what of your family?”

“Dead. Because of you,” Your tone is bitter and your eyes harden again, “but if you’re talking about my real family, I don’t know. I was told the Templars were responsible for my becoming an orphan.”

“Did the Brotherhood tell you that?”

“Yes. And if you think the words of an old traitor are gonna change my mind, then I wish you the best of luck.” You snarl at him. 

Something about you calling him a “traitor” enrages him, definitely not towards you but that bitterness towards the Brotherhood grows at your words and you can see that your words stung him.

“You’ll find out very quickly, (Y/n), that I don’t need luck. I make my own.” He then straightens his back and goes towards the door of his quarters, “Question time is over.”

You stand up indignantly, demanding that he returns, but you’re only answer is the sound of the door closing; this time you hear it locking and you stand in silence before you growl and kick the leg of his bed.

Putting the keys to his quarters back into his pocket, Shay now understands just how tangled you are in the Brotherhood’s webs and how it’ll be hard work to get you to see the truth, but he is now more than certain that it’ll be for your own good. When he returns to the top of the deck, he feels raindrops and immediately looks up at the sky above.

The sky is grey and the clouds begin to darken. He knows that it'll just be a day or two of rain but he still thinks to himself that it'd be better to sail with caution. After all, he had precious cargo on board.

[evicted-oc]

Showing off outfits today!

Thor: I felt like a crop top today

Loki: matching with donn today!

Hœnir: I'd rather show off my makeup.. I'm too sleepy to put on something cute

Óðr: I felt like wearing chains today~

Baldr: *waves and winks*

Höðr: just got back from the gym~

Donn: my tits might pop out of this-

Morrigan: little something to make my outfit cuter <3

Arawn: I just got out of the bath I only have a bath robe on

Lugh: eyes up here~

Balor: I don't have any clothes on. Unless you count the sheets

Tags: @livealittleoc-cb @the-hellhounds @kardpackcb @beaconhillsxbot @theinvitation-bot @domxbot @florintradat @thepatchedpaw @beastfights-starting @romeochen @welcometosector1 @dawnswonderland-entertainment @mxthxbot @k-venturetime @cafesongmingi @reve-rv @multi-esme @3rachabot @elemental-dream @screamcb @fantasyxkingdoms @the-nine @badbf-cb @mutant-academy @pasdrak @theonesxcb @theafterlifeclub-cb @clubwnderland @angelxdevil-bot @dark-royals-cb @musiclovermino @namiras-rose-tattoos @hoteldelluna-rp @model-boyscb @eclipseclubocs @binna-oc @logan-oc-cb @moongods-cb

[thehollowwriter]

Wouldn't it be silly if Morrigan single handedly caused an NRC potion regulations/effects change? Ok lemme explain.

Like, NRC's already pretty bad at catering for non-human students (not giving the merfolk enough time to adapt before making them fly in P.E, no changes to the ceremonial robes for beastmen, etc, @malletsum made a great post about it) so I think it was definitely way worse when Morrigan attended NRC about 50+/- years ago.

I think there was less effort put into giving the merfolk students proper transformation potions. I hc that they are supplied by the school, but since it costs a lot of money and a lot of legal stuff, corners were cut to save costs. So basically, if you're a merfolk, they'll make sure you have legs and lungs and mostly human skin, and that's about it. So, way more of your original features remain than we see in the current timeline

My idea for NRC Morrigan's design is that he still had earfins, his face still had some scales, the tips of his fingers were green and he still had those long, black claws and nasty teeth (from what I can see the tweels' potion seems to make their teeth smaller?)

Now, it's already established that merfolk students are quite rare at NRC, so I doubt the school has had to deal with any problems relating to the way their potions functioned (*ahem* apart from a student turning back in the middle of the school day and nearly suffocating once but HEY that's not their fault and besides you signed a waiver.)

I think that Morrigan is probably their first troublemaker merfolk student, so all the previous ones were either royalty or very well-behaved prodigies. Not to mention, those previous merfolk were also probably all Ariel-like ones too.

So now you've this guy with anger issues and a taste for getting into violent fights. Nothing new, this is NRC after all, let's jus- oh he nearly clawed somebody's eyes out. Uh. Um. That's a. Problem. Oh crap that was a dignitary's son oh shit we better fix this.

And in typical school fashion, after giving Morrigan a slap on the wrist (cause his parents are wealthy af too) they decide that hey rather than trying to stop the clawing out of the eyes let's just change the potion so the majority of merfolk traits are suppressed. Problem solved! This is standard practice now.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Prodigal Dragonborn AU

Thinking of a timeslip AU where due to Misadventure, Lucien from PD ends up in some other timeline where time went another way, and he and Miraak didn't meet.

Started out as a Gol Hah Dov AU, and that would be interesting, Lucien seeing a timeline where Miraak has not only hooked up with someone else, but met Lucien, even got on with him, but never showered any of that obsessive devotion on him that Lucien First Acolyte of the Cult of Miraak got without even trying. Not to mention Chry reacting to a Lucien that has Slept With His Husband In The Other Timeline, and GHD Lucien losing his mind and panicking.

However, I couldn't actually write that as GHD is very much not my fic... but I could do one without the GHD elements, and a straight up AU of PD where Melinda fell to Miraak who successfully escaped Apocrypha. And because this Miraak is, to put it mildly, very much still a Dark Lord Dragonborn, he sets out to conquer the world, and two years or so after escaping, has killed Ulfric and taken over Windhelm and the Stormcloaks, legalised Talos worship after acknowledging Talos as an honoured and respected precursor Dragonborn worthy of worship, and is now High King of most of an independent Skyrim.

However, there is a resistance movement. A Certain Someone did not take too kindly to his partner getting killed, and raced back to Whiterun to raise the alarm. And so Whiterun is still independent under Jarl Balgruuf, but it's also home to the resistance militia known as the Merry Men, who wear jester outfits to hide their real faces and carry out guerrilla attacks on Miraak's cultists wherever they find them. No prizes for guessing who they're led by.

The only reason Whiterun has held out against three dragons, Bend Will and the massed ranks of the Cult of Miraak and Stormcloaks is down to Cicero having hit up Madanach, and seeing as the Reach's Jarl bent the knee to Miraak, the Forsworn responded with aid and a magical shield to keep Bend Will at bay. The jester masks are likewise proof against mind control magic.

Anyway PD Lucien finds himself in the midst of all of this, dressed in his First Acolyte robes, probably fell through an Eye of Magnus-caused anomaly. He doesn't fully realise anything's changed - but his resonant sphere isn't resonating, and he can't feel Miraak in his head any more although the bond is still there. Weird and suspicious, but fixable potentially so back to Winterhold he goes. He gets back to Winterhold hoping for tea, a nice cuddle with his husband and the attentions of his cat. Walks into the longhouse... no cat. No Morrigan or Argis or kids. Just Jarl Korir and court, who see the robes and mask, assume he's part of the cult and do at least make him welcome, wanting to know if he's with the High King.

Lucien is looking around at a longhouse still heated and lit with naked flames rather than the steampipes and electric lights he's used to, and is almost afraid to ask what happened to the College. Turns out the Saarthal dig never happened, Miraak nixed the expedition on arriving in Winterhold with his troops, partly to ingratiate himself with Korir and partly for some reason Miraak never did fully explain... as if he knew what they might find there. Anyway, Aren still leads the College, which has accepted the regime change quite easily. Attitudes to magic have undergone a dramatic shift what with a True Nord Dragonborn High King Who Legalised Talos Worship wielding it as capably as any College member.

Lucien just stares mutely at the falling-apart bridge that Miraak never bothered fixing... and with no siege at the College, never needed to destroy either, and resolves to go to Windhelm.

He's let in, cultists looking at the robes then wanting the mask removed, and on looking at his face, look very confused and wonder when he left the city, weren't you at the palace with Our Lord?

"Clearly not, you should take me back there, he's probably missed me!" Lucien says cheerfully. Inwardly he's panicking, because they recognised him?? King Miraak knows Lucien Flavius??

Apparently so. King Miraak is masked and robed, no one ever sees his real face. But he starts on seeing Lucien, especially the robes, because why is Lucien wearing robes like his.

"You are a guest at my court, Lucien, but do not presume more than that. Even Archmagister Viidost doesn't have robes like this... wait, did she enchant these???"

Viidost is summoned and denies ever having seen these in her life, in fact Mr. Flavius is upstairs having tea and studying some Dwemer volumes acquired off Calcelmo in Markarth right now, he's been there for hours. And then Miraak looks closely at Lucien and realises the vennesetiid do not behave normally around him At All, and that he's from a different timeline, and suddenly Miraak has All The Questions.

"Keep Mr Flavius occupied and ensure he does not come to find me for the next few hours. I have a... visitor to entertain."

The resulting conversation is enlightening for both. Won't write it all out, but the main plot beats are this:

King Miraak is not the tyrant he seems. He's actually been quite the enlightened ruler, with schools of Jhunal opening in his territory and the study of magic becoming a little more respectable among Nords.

The Bards College regularly send students on placement to Windhelm to learn history from King Miraak.

The Butcher of Windhelm got caught within weeks of Miraak taking over Windhelm, and the Grey Quarter's been renovated. Argonians and Dunmer are allowed in the city, as are the Khajiit subject to skooma and stolen goods searches.

The Jarls serving him are actually mostly loyal. Laila Law-Giver was restored to Riften after Season Unending's events, and Maven was Bend Willed into submission. That led to Mercer Frey's execution and the return of the Skeleton Key, and Karliah is now a loyal agent of Miraak's. The Guild operates along similar lines to Ankh-Morpork's now. ;)

With Cidhna Mine no longer a prison in Markarth, the Reach is rather more peaceful and the Forsworn are haemorrhaging recruits. Miraak's yet to fight them full on, but he's got plans.

Miraak smashed the Dawnguard questline, brutally slaughtering Harkon personally. He's got Auriel's Bow mounted on his wall but rarely uses it. Serana lives at his court and is one of his closest friends and advisors. Isran is Miraak's right hand in the Rift. (Karliah's the left.)

Alliance agreement signed with Morrowind, who recognised the Free Kingdom of Skyrim and have an Embassy in Eastmarch.

This timeline's Lucien arrived at Windhelm not long before PD Lucien, hoping King Miraak might assist with an expedition to Solstheim to investigate Dumzbthar. This timeline's Lucien is a lot more naive and sheltered and innocent, and fascinated to meet a timeline traveller! Still less a version of him! Goodness, you must tell me all about it.

PD Lucien gives an edited version to his counterpart... but he tells Miraak the truth, seeing the man's not all evil, and even attempts to flirt with him, reasoning it's not cheating to get close to his timeline's equivalent of his husband, is it? It doesn't quite go according to plan but while sex doesn't happen (Lucien is secretly OK with that), an emotional tie does form.

Plot Twist! This timeline's Lucien was working for the Merry Men, hoping to lure Miraak out to Dumzbthar in person where Cicero is lying in wait, waiting for revenge.

Alas for PD Lucien having warned Miraak about what's down there, and that Melinda's partner was an Imperial redhead named Cicero who was an ex-assassin who owned a jester's outfit. Miraak instantly sees the Merry Men connection.

Plot Twist number two - Miraak never died so he still has a lot of Daedric corruption going on. The reason he never removes the mask is that he's got sickly pale grey skin with mottled black blood vessels and completely dark eyes with blue irises the only relief. His tongue and gums are black as well as his blood. Hardly anyone's seen it but he'd not survive long if his real face was ever seen. Miraak rips the mask off to show PD Lucien this after he tries to chat him up, but when Lucien reacts with genuine sadness and kindness instead of revulsion, that's when the emotional barriers give way. A strong friendship forms, and Miraak tells PD Lucien his husband is lucky to have him. Miraak's sense of honour places PD Lucien off limits romantically and sexually, for which Lucien is frankly relieved. But Miraak, after receiving a positive reaction from one Lucien, starts looking thoughtfully at the other one.

Not entirely sure how it'd all work out, especially as I don't normally write the Forsworn as antagonists, nor Cicero, who, let's face it, isn't surviving this.

I'm thinking PD Lucien somehow managing to persuade the other Lucien to switch sides and share his intel on the Merry Men. Dumzbthar trip happens, Cicero joins the party not realising Miraak knows who he is, turns traitor around the Oblivion Gate and PD Lucien gets in the way of the knives just as the portal opens behind Cicero and the last thing he sees before passing out is two Miraaks, one of whom is slaughtering Cicero while the other is healing him and telling him to hold on.

PD Lucien wakes up and suddenly realises the bond is there, and he can feel Saviik, and then realises GRIGIO is purring on his chest, and opens his eyes to see his perfectly healthy husband holding his hand, tears in his eyes.

Took Dumzbthar the longest time to get a lock on the resonant sphere's plane of existence, but Saviik had faith Lucien in any universe would wind up at Dumzbthar eventually and so it has proved. This timeline's Lucien managed to get the facility under control, and now King Miraak has a mighty Dwemer army plus the Liisunvaar at his disposal.

"Doesn't that bother you? I mean, isn't that bad? Aren't you afraid what he might do with it?"

Saviik laughs, wiping tears away. "Niid, lokaali. My first impression of him was you moving to save his life, and him saving yours with his healing magic. You are clearly convinced he's not beyond redemption, and he clearly treasures you. Also we have spoken. He speaks very highly of you and sees you as a true friend, and reassured me he has not taken advantage of you. In return, I have told him the Reachfolk have his daughter and grandson living peacefully among them, and also pointed him Matriarch Keirine's way. If he goes in peace to her, and promises to spare her people, she might help him be healed."

PD Lucien goes home with Saviik to live happily ever after. King Miraak sees him off with the other Lucien at his side, who not-so-secretly hero-worshipped the dashing First Acolyte who was smart and brave and heroic and all the things he's not.

King Miraak is a bit surprised to hear this, telling him he, Lucien of this timeline, is the reason Miraak now has a submarine and automaton army, and that while PD Lucien's stories may have inspired, who is going to help him bring steam power and electricity to his domain once it has peace, hmm?

"What... you don't mean me, do you?" Lucien gasps, going pink, and Miraak nods.

"Yes, Court Scientist Lucien, of course I do."

Lucien is delighted, accepts, wait, he's not going to use the machines to level Whiterun, is he?

No, in fact it turns out with a lot of the Merry Man leadership dead on Solstheim, the militia band falls apart. Balgruuf is a pragmatist at heart and a secret Talos worshipper to boot and agrees to talks now he doesn't have a psychotic motley-clad widower in his court to worry about.

As for the Forsworn, it turns out Madanach is ill and dying and the Forsworn are on their knees. Keirine is the one to agree to a surrender in return for their lives and help for her brother.

One Dwemer oxygen tank for his breathing, and Miraak is able to craft a Shout to sort his mind out. Madanach is, if not pleased at realising he's got to talk terms with Igmund, at least grateful for his life back, even if this is going to require regular shipments of cylinders for the breathing apparatus and regular restoration treatments off Miraak personally to really fix his lungs. How much is this going to cost... all you want is a few hours to talk to Morrigan? Sold.

Keirine's fascinated by the Daedric corruption, but is unsure how to fix. She's never seen anything like it. Still, there are many kinds of Daedric corruption, and a ritual to fix another kind might work on this too. Off to Morthal's summoning circle for a reworked version of the vampirism cure, and Miraak's unstained once more.

Lucien was along for the ride, for science of course, and is delighted Miraak's cured, but also a little sad.

"I suppose you'll be going unmasked more often. Everyone is going to want a piece of you now. Goodness, you're probably going to get suitors! I... oh."

Crestfallen Lucien, who's barely been away from the High King's side since the other Lucien went home... only when Miraak returned to Windhelm and Lucien stayed at Dumzbthar to research more, and they wrote constantly even then. Lucien had seen the stains, and like his counterpart, reacted with sympathy... and a cuddle. Miraak had immediately given him Hugging Privileges and Lucien had enjoyed being in the Inner Circle very much, even if it was blindingly obvious First Acolyte Lucien was definitely the handsomer, smarter and more accomplished of the two of them.

"He is that way because of my influence," Miraak had told him once, smiling at him. "Shall we see what I influence you towards?"

So far, other than long, lengthy discussions about Dwemer engineering, the Dragon Cult, and anything else Lucien had questions about, he wasn't sure exactly what that had entailed. But Miraak had seemed to enjoy keeping him close by and taking him with him when travelling. Mostly to mind the Dwemer machines but Lucien had sometimes wondered.

Regardless, Miraak had seemed to want to spend most of his free time with Lucien, and Lucien had loved the attention... except if Miraak got married, Lucien supposed the new queen might not want the Court Scientist showing up to talk her husband's ear off until the early hours of the morning.

He needn't have worried. Miraak saw all too clearly and asked gently if the idea of Miraak getting married to another and having no time left for Lucien bothered him. Lucien nodded sadly, and then Miraak smiled, leaned down and kissed him, fingers caressing his cheek.

"I already have an heir, and don't need marriage to cement alliances with three dragons at my disposal. In fact, the only power I would ally with that is not already in touch is the Empire to the south. Do you think they would listen if word reached them one of their young nobles was going to be my consort? Do you think your family have enough court influence to persuade the Emperor to be reasonable?"

"I'll ask," Lucien breathes, pink and tearful and oh goodness, the High King just kissed him and proposed. Which is all a bit too much, a LOT too much... but of course he wants to, he's spent months staring at the First Acolyte version of himself getting cosy with the High King and the two of them seeming quite happy together, with Lucien wishing he was even a tenth that cool. Apparently the High King seems to think he's halfway there already.

"This isn't just because the First Acolyte got away, is it" Lucien has to ask. Miraak shakes his head.

"No. He was never mine to have. I was always intrigued by him but I knew he was pledged to another version of me, and knew he'd be thinking of that other man the whole time. I enjoyed his company and friendship but never took him to bed. You though. You're not pledged to anyone. You could be mine. I have been thinking that even while he was still here, but was never sure if you felt the same. Until now."

Lucien isn't sure what to say to that, so settles for a hug instead, accepts the proposal on condition they take things slowly in the bedroom, to which Miraak actually agrees.

Peace talks happen. His mother's instrumental in the whole deal. A treaty and trade agreement eventually result, and peace comes to Tamriel at last. And of course, Lucien gets legally united with Miraak, and physically reunited with his cat.

[vigilskeep]

✍️ + morrigan?

only 22 morrigans and a lot of them are very early in development... so have this which always makes me laugh even though it’s definitively not what you were looking for

Zevran blinked at them. The assortment of Wardens blinked at him.

Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maker’s breath,” she said.

“Commander, who is this?” snapped one of them, a rather fearsome-looking Dalish mage with green magical energy still crackling between her hands. She saw she’d gotten his attention, and scowled at him from under choppy locks of fair hair. Zevran was reminded rather fiercely of Morrigan. Where does his dear Warden find such people?

“We heard someone breaking into the Keep,” says another in a rush, this one a dwarven woman with a full face of tattoos. “We thought—”

“You’d make enough noise to alert any assassin to your presence?” says Minerva. Zevran can hear the amusement now sneaking into her voice, though he’s not sure these poor young Wardens can. “Nathaniel, I thought better of you.”

A dark-haired human with a terrible misuse of his Maker-given facial hair—Nathaniel, presumably—scowled. “You try stealth with this lot traipsing after you. Anders couldn’t even keep his mouth shut from here to the—”

“It was taking too long!” protests a taller human, a mage with his dark blond hair tied loosely back from his face, wearing fine robes of Tevinter make and a single earring that gleamed gold. “Speaking as the healer, I do rather like to get to my friends before they’re actually dead.”

“Anders is right,” says a man who looks, well, suspiciously like a corpse. Zevran has the sudden alarming idea that some Grey Wardens might die and then still get up to do their jobs. It does sound like something Minerva would do. “The Warden-Commander’s safety was paramount.”

Anders points emphatically in the corpse’s direction. Nathaniel makes a short, sharp huff. The Dalish mage opens her mouth—

“If I may,” says Zevran, and he offers a small bow.

[unlikelysaintdelele]

I wanna talk about my warden, so I'm gonna do that. Meet Adalia Amell.

Loyal to the Circle and her friends. Finds some piece of mind by following the Chantry, but wouldn't go so far as to call herself an Andrastian. She likes pretty dresses and reading books, from history to fiction. It's her only way to experience the outside world. She's rather studious and crafty, so she excelled in herbalism and poison-making. Her spell focus was in Elements (ice and electricity) and Spirit (death and telekinesis). But she was also restless, so she developed a silver tongue that allowed her to sneak around as she pleased and get her hands on whatever she desperately wanted in the moment. She completely lacks survival skills and has no real skill in fighting, only the theoretical sort. From all those books, of course. And she's kind. She loves doing things for other people. You could say her love language is acts of service.

She finds Cullen's crush on her endearing and likes pretending to be oblivious about it because of how he stutters. Is something wrong? Why are you so flushed, Cullen? Are you feeling sick? Here, let me check. However, she gets easily embarrassed if Jowan pokes fun at her about it. As a true child of the Circle, she never once attempts to pursue anything and simply leaves it as a small fancy. This overall leaves many under the impression that she has no feelings for Cullen and is barely aware of his affections got her. Her devastation to hearing what he said during their reunion, when the Circle was overtaken by demons, ran deep. She never loved him, but she always adored him. He would forever be her first Maybe.

When Jowan approaches her about destroying his Phylactery, she runs straight to the First Enchanter. She wants to help her best friend, but she simply cannot go against everything she knows as right. When she hears whispers of him practicing blood magic, she's naturally in denial. Doesn't believe up until he uses it to escape. When she reunites with him at Redcliffe, it's messy and hurt. He's apologetic but trust has been broken so she leaves him in the cell. After healing Arl Eamon, she has him sent back to the Circle. He is a Circle mage and he will be dealt with as such.

She was awestruck by Duncan pretty much the moment she met him. A Grey Warden! When she was chosen by him, she was excited and nervous but oh so eager to get out of the Circle because she would finally see the outside world. She was also annoyed because Greagoir wasn't listening to anything she or the First Enchanter were saying. She wouldn't dare betray the Circle. So it was either leave and see the world or stay and face unjust punishment. That's not the kindest situation to being pushed out of your own home. He low-key became a bit of a father figure. The First Enchanter was more like a Grandpa.

She's wary of Alistair when they first meet because of his Templar background but quickly warms up to him because of his humor. Jokes are good. She also likes the other recruits, even flirts with one of them, but doesn't bother to get to know anyone in detail because she assumes there will be time for that later... which was false. She definitely felt fear during the joining. Blinding, sickening fear. She did not want to die after barely stepping outside of the Circle. It was her desire to experience the world that overpowered her fear of death. She did not want to die, so she simply refused to accept that as an option. So she drank. And she survived.

She loves Morrigan. She finds her bitchy practicality amusing, and her bizarre childhood sad but also... kinda cool? What do you mean you shapeshifted to swipe a pretty mirror? Can you show me how to do that? She also finds her style fascinating as it's so different from the conservative Circle robes. It's almost definitely a one-sided friendship in the beginning, but the small twinge of sadness when they speak before going after the Archdemon... it's enough for Adalia to never hate her. She would never search for Morrigan after that.

Leliana is a completely different story. It's like she stumbled upon a long lost best friend she never knew she had. They bonded so quickly no one would've known they had just met a week ago. Adalia loved to hear the stories of Leliana's travels, and they would even gossip about Adalia's trysts with...

Alistair! How he wormed his way into her heart. They relied on each other when they were left to fight off the demons in the tower in Ostagar. It only deepened when they became the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, the only ones left who could understand what the other was going through. The nightmares. The being hunted down. Loghain's betrayal that resulted in Duncan's death. They found comfort in each other. Comfort that became clumsy flirting (from Alistair) and amused teasing (from Adalia) to frantic kisses stolen in the night that became complete trust and what little happiness they could find during the Blight. She comforted him after Goldana because he was kind and deserved to know his kindess was not a waste.

She supported Anora's bid for the throne because Alistair didn't want to be King and she never quite understood the need for maintaining bloodline within nobility. She was a Circle mage, where the children of nobility were stripped of their title and all birthrights the moment they walked in. To her, blood wasn't what mattered but rather capability and willingness. She had no doubt that Alistair would eventually grow into his role of he became King, but she didn't think it right to force him into a role he didn't even want. That was until Morrigan's ritual. For the first time, she would break away from everything that she had been taught. Not because she wasn't ready to sacrifice her life for all of Ferelden. But because she knew Alistair would follow her anywhere and would die protecting her. He would sacrifice himself so she could live. Not wanting to imagine a life without him, she selfishly clung to their love. Because of their trust in each other, Alistair reluctantly went through with the ritual.

Back to her friends! She found it rather upsetting that Sten didn't seem to like her. She found him hard to understand at first. She kept giving him paintings and prodding him about why he was caged. They eventually formed a deep respect for each other and their differences. Adalia finding him his sword definitely helped a bit. She also liked hearing his stories about the Qunari.

Zevran! Hmm.. annoying but funny. She thought it was hilarious how eager he was to switch sides if it meant he lived. She also loved hearing his wild stories as a Crow, especially with his Antivan accent. Her party thought she was foolish for trusting him, but Zevran was her most loyal friend at the end of the day. It probably helped that they shared the same sense of dry humor.

Oghren.. was too stupid and bizarre to hate. There was also some respect because, though he was a horn dog who would wander out of the marriage bed, he had a loyal heart. They weren't the closest, but they were friendly and would often chat at camp.

Wynne! Lovely Wynne! She became a grandma figure to Adalia. She took Wynne's advice to heart, even when she disagreed. She was particularly hurt by Wynne's first opinion about her relationship with Alistair. She knew there was some truth to Wynne's words, but she also thought Wynne was wrong about this. Of all things, what she had with Alistair was not wrong, was not bad. She also adores Wynne's naughtier side. Like how she would tease Alistair.

Some last details! She could not be bribed into evil acts and always sought compromise when she could. The Dalish lived and the werewolf curse was broken. She shut down the slave trade and saved the elder. She persuaded the demon in Connor to leave forever. She named her Mabari Firulais, making it ironic when someone would claim the dog was full of fleas. She was an Arcane Warrior and Shapeshifter. and she ran off into the sunset with the love of her life (and zevran, because he wanted to come along).

[ninjakittenarmy]

Gonna do my Grey Warden:

ESSENTIALS

Name: Alexei Amell

Age: 24

Only significance of the name is that they’re related to Hawkes family.

Race and Class: Human Mage. Naturally, they were trained in the circle and learned their basic skills there. Passed their harrowing with flying colors, killed two demons. The first of two trial by fire initiation rituals they undertook.

They don’t have any particular ill will towards the other races. They’re not particularly comfortable with the alienage system for elves, and have something of a grudge against Dwarven isolationism due to that priest they aided in founding a chantry being lynched.

Alignment: Good, though pragmatic. It’s more about results than general principles. You’ll see what I mean shortly.

Specialties: They dabble in a fair few but their preference is for Arcane Warrior and Blood Mage (told ya).

Preferred Weapons: Staves. Not necessarily any one in particular, though they have a fondness for the irony of using Darkspawn ones against them. It’s in the blood, they figure.

Dress: Typically mage robes of different varieties. They’ve grown accustomed to the specific feeling of the loosely fitting cloth clothing they wore in the circle and it makes spell casting easier. Plus, they come in different varieties for all occasions in case one needs to be ready to cast at a moment’s notice (which is far from rare in his line of work).

Notable Markings: Not really. Benefit of being a distance fighter means most of the scars are mental.

LIFE

Birth Place: Alexei was born in the Frostback Mountains region of Ferelden and spent a considerable amount of his childhood either there or in Denerim. Unfortunately, he was taken from his home after his mage powers were discovered and was raised there for his teen and early adult years. He has only distant memories of his old home and family. He was however very close to several apprentices in the tower, such as his roommate, Jowan. He WAS rather curious when he heard Skyhold, his family’s old castle, became the headquarters of the new Inquisition however, and that apparently, Anders had met his cousin before staging his revolution. He’d never met Hawke before but his role in Kirkwall politics is one he followed closely.

Social Class: He was born noble but being a mage has had far more impact on his life.

Languages: His main language is the human tongue spoken in Thedas, but he’s been trying to learn Dwarven, Elvish, and at least a bit of the Qun language for diplomatic reasons.

Family: As mentioned, the most prominent relatives he has at the moment are his cousins, the Hawkes. He considers it unfortunate that he never actually met the Hawkes during his brief stay in Lothering. If he ever meets Anders again, maybe they’ll talk about them. He can’t help but find it funny that after Wynn persuaded him to help prevent the Libertarians from staging an uprising, his cousins and his old comrade literally blew the whole thing up a few years later anyway. Perhaps it was for the best.

Religion: He’s Andrastean, like most of Ferelden. Definitely a heretic considering his disdain for the circle but a very devout heretic. The Inquisitor and Leliana would see his views vindicated.

Party Members they’re close to: Most of them actually. Closest would probably be Leliana due to their shared opinions on religious matters, Alistair due to them being comrades in arms and the sole survivors of Ostigar, and Morrigan, whom he has a kid with. He grew closer with Oghren after the latter joined the Wardens as well. Also the dog but that’s a given.

Significant cultural aspects: Despite being isolated from society for so long, he inherited many aspects of Ferelden culture, such as his opposition to slavery (pretty normal most places) and his affinity with dogs. He was eager to look into acquiring a proper Mabari war hound at Ostigar and thanks to his help with a sick hound, said dog would survive and manage to reunite with him after the disaster there. His fellowship may have split but that dog is still with him.

Day Job: Being an apprentice, his day job was mostly studying, and doing whatever the enchanters needed doing. He was pretty much destined for the military from the beginning, as he was mostly focusing on combat magic.

Education: They were educated in the circle. That means that in addition to magic, they’re extremely well versed in academic matters like math and science. Very well read by medieval standards too. However their knowledge of the political landscape is more limited, hence why so much needed to be explained to them after joining the Wardens.

Free Time and Vices: They enjoy a good celebration or night on the town as much as anyone, stopping into local taverns, restaurants, or any local gather places to unwind with the others. Their favorite hobby is probably reading however. Especially reading stuff that wasn’t permitted in the circle. The only hobby that real counts as a vice for them is, funnily (and perhaps disturbingly) enough, fighting. Going on side quests to eliminate the local bandits, monsters, and other such threats is what he considers unwinding. Drugs, alcohol, and brothel visits just don’t compare to boiling a Darkspawn inside out.

Serious Injuries: Quite often. Broken ribs, torn arteries, concussions, being a mage doesn’t make you very durable.

3&4: See above. Their relationships with their companions are quite good, aside from that time Sten challenged him for leadership. Zevran and Oghren are his go to party mates naturally, while Alister and Leliana are his main confidants. Alistair is also his de facto Adjutant.

PARTY

Preferred Team: Depends Greatly on context. In general he tried to rotate his party out so everyone could build a rapport with each other and gain combat experience. Cultural expertise can be a factor too. Alistair is the go to expert on nobility, which Alexei has little experience with due to growing up in the circle, Zevran has expertise with city elven populations, though less so with the Dalish elves. Oghren and Shale were his go to companions for Orzimar diplomacy and the exploration of the Deep Roads and Dwarven Ruins. Leliana was his go to for Chantry diplomacy and he naturally brought her to seek the Ashes of Andraste.

The only companion he didn’t particularly get along with was Velanna due to her intense prejudice towards humans and many resulting murders. He mostly recruited her out of necessity. It’s telling that he and Nathaniel Howe had a more cordial relationship, though it helps that Alexei’s opposition to Howe’s father was strictly professional.

He also had a great deal of camaraderie with Anders and Justice. He and Anders are of like minded views on the circle and they even bonded over their mutual interest in blood magic. He’s certain Anders will go on to do great things. Justice meanwhile was a rather kind-hearted and valiant spirit, which was refreshing given all the demons Alexei has had to deal with. They became fast friends when staging an uprising against the Baroness in the fade, and continued to bond over their mutual passion for safeguarding the common folk and battling evil. Sigrun and Alexei had a similar relationship. The Legion of the Dead and the Wardens already share a bond in battling the Darkspawn, and he was glad to have such an eager recruit. Ironically, she became less eager to seek a valiant death after their journey together.

Companion Quests: They were extremely diligent with resolving their party’s personal matters. He helped Leliana eliminate her old paramour who betrayed her, acquired Sten’s sword, allowing him to return to his homeland with honor and become Arishok, managed to buy Wynn considerable time by seeking out Aneirin, helped Oghren win over his crush (which somehow ended up with him becoming a general in Ferelden’s armies, the first Dwarf to do so), and even fought Flemeth for Morrigan. She better be grateful for that last one because that was very difficult.

The only quests that ended less than ideally were Alistair’s and Shakes. Alistair’s sister was a resentful, rather cruel person and there was little Alexei could do about that. Shale meanwhile ended up confronting him over his actions in the deep roads. This was ultimately resolved amicably however.

This trend continued after he became the Commander of the Grey. Some would argue that the his greater responsibilities should have made him prioritize these matters less. He would argue that a full on blight was plenty of responsibility too thank you very much, and just like then, it was best to resolve any of these personal matters so everyone could focus on the mission at hand. Helping Howe reunite with his family and accept the truth of his father, helping Justice rectify the issue he caused by possessing a dead man, getting Sigrun to make amends with the friend she betrayed long ago, and even aiding Velanna in helping her clan (hey, hate her or not, innocent people needed help). Anders’s issue kinda found them anyway. Ser Rylock really ought to have learned to butt out.

Romance: They didn’t have much time for a proper romance all things considered. They did however become rather close with Morrigan, though the circumstances behind their having a child together were unusual. He’s not really sure what to make of their relationship but he’s been a part of the child’s upbringing whenever possible.

CODEX

Magical Matters: Abominations are ah, unpleasant to deal with. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about becoming one, and that’s like, the one saving grace the circle system has. Or it would be if they didn’t mess up anyway.

Circle and Templars: He really does not like the circle system. He believes it’s an oppressive, unjustifiable system and is less than convinced of its necessity. After all, it got overrun by abominations despite being created to stop it and his merry gang was able to solve the problem anyway. And honestly, dealing with Loghain and his nobles were harder to beat and caused far more destruction than the abominations anyway.

As for the Templars themselves, they were never overly cruel to him in the circle despite their trepidation and prejudice towards mages. He got the impression most were at least well intentioned. If they were trained to be more dedicated to demon hunting and less to jailing mages, there may be hope for them.

Grey Wardens: He’s naturally pretty grateful that they saved him from being executed. It wasn’t the best circumstances to be recruited but hey, when is it ever with them? And they gave him a chance to have far more freedom than he’d ever have otherwise. He was enraged at Loghain’s betrayal, naturally, and made it his life’s mission to rebuild the order and hopefully, stop the calling too. Whatever it takes.

Fade: They’re not particularly fond of going into the Fade (aside from the regular dreaming). It’s dangerous and difficult to navigate and obeys no consistent laws of reality. Spirits are fairly amicable, if alien beings. The main experience he has with them is in the aforementioned Fade trips where they were pretty helpful, and with Justice, who served with him against the Darkspawn. All in all, positive experience. His opinions on Demons are expectedly negative. Despite using blood magic, he considers them about as much of a threat as the Darkspawn. He’s especially not fond of desire demons since they’re a pain to deal with and keep enthralling or possessing innocent people by tricking them. He also finds their seductive manner of speaking and constant erm, eroticized gestures to be more uncomfortable to be around than actually seductive. “I desire you to go away, madam.”

Darkspawn: His opinion is less than positive on the Darkspawn. Once you’ve faced a blight, it’s hard not to constantly think about the millions of them down there, digging their way towards their sleeping gods, constantly building their way towards the next blight. He’d almost sympathize with the other wardens’ efforts to build an army of demons to power through them and slaughter the remaining gods if that wasn’t also the single stupidest idea he’d ever heard.

Dragons: Encountering a cult that believed a dragon was Andraste reborn was a bizarre experience after seeing the Arch-Demon. Combined with Flemeth and he has to wonder why so many non-dragons take dragon forms. Only two were legit, but that more than you’d expect. Flemeth was (as far as he knows) a witch, so she could just choose, but that doesn’t explain the Tevinter gods. Has to wonder if the dragons themselves are connected somehow to them. If there’s one thing he’s glad he learned, it’s that drinking dragon blood gives you superpowers. Goes great with the drake scale armor he commissioned (for Sten).

Other Religions: The Qun sounds interesting if hard to understand, especially the part where their race doesn’t have a separate name from the faith but anyone can join said faith. Their treatment of mages is horrific however. The Dwarven faith is hard for him to understand since it apparently has no god, but the Stone SOUNDS like a god, yet isn’t.

There’s also the aforementioned priest lynching. As for the elven faith, he’s more than a bit skeptical that they used to be immortal. Considering the guy he met who claimed to have rediscovered it was actually using blood magic, which a human mage (Avernus) has done before too, he ALSO has to question whether this immortality was entirely natural. That bit about it going away because they’re near other races is DEFINITELY bullshit though. Still, he has a healthy respect for their culture and traditions and hey, he’s a blood mage too, maybe it’s not as evil as we thought. Zathrian’s just a dick.

Only other faith he’s familiar with is the old Tevinter gods. All things considered, less than stellar experience with them. His faith in the Maker is stronger now. This religion is much better.

Deep Roads: Dark, hard to navigate, and full of Darkspawn. Not a place he wants to spend his final days, hence the quest to stop the calling. Nonetheless, his expeditions down there were among what he considers the most fascinating as they delved into the ancient and forgotten realms of the Dwarves. He hopes Bhelen’s efforts to reclaim parts of it make things safer down there. The less ground for the Darkspawn to claim, the better.

Foreign Countries: He’s been to Orlais on his quest to rebuild the order and find a solution to this calling nonsense. The nobility are even worse than Ferelden’s but his comrades in the Wardens have both proven fine company, and there’s much to enjoy about Orlesian culture in general. Given that he saw what anti-Orlesian prejudice did to Loghain, he’s done his best to overcome any bad blood between their countries and its effects on his attitudes. After all, if we HAD gotten reinforcements at Ostigar, like they offered, a lot fewer people would have died. All in all, a fine nation with fine people with a dire need for a change in leadership.

He’s likely to visit Tevinter as well in his quest. His experience with Tevinter has been less than stellar, though he figures the people there are in a similar situation. It IS the one place where mages aren’t treated like crap, but something needs to be done about the slavery. He dissuaded Andre’s from romanticizing it too much.

Animals they like or hate: As mentioned, he shares his culture’s affection for dogs, and also like cats a fair bit. Not too fond of giant spiders though. Seen enough of them to last ten lifetimes.

Folk Songs: He finds them pretty interesting. There’s a fair few books on them in the libraries at the circle but it was rare to actually hear them. Can be odd if he imagined a completely different tune than what it actually sounds like.

PROTAGONIST SPECIFIC

Origin: Alexei was a circle mage who passed his final trial with flying colors, slaying not one but two demons. This ultimately put him on Duncan’s radar, and would save his life after his little heist. When Jowan told him he was going to be made tranquil, he offered to help immediately. He believed his friend when he proclaimed his innocence, and saw little reason not to help him escape. He’d always had serious reservations about the circle anyway. He strongly considered destroying his own philactery as well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t present.

Of course, when Jowan turned out to actually be a Blood Mage, this left him in a tight spot. He considered begging forgiveness, but he realized that the circle, being what it was, would kill him regardless. He decided to be defiant to the end, proclaiming he regretted nothing. Fortunately, this was not the end for him.

Feelings on Recruitment: Alexei pretty eagerly accepted his recruitment into the Wardens. He’d already been interested in the prospect before, and a life free from the circle battling against Darkspawn instead of whatever squabble the circle would have him fight in sounded appealing. It would be dangerous but so was being a mage. Safety had always been a fantasy to him.

The Wilds were his first experience with the Darkspawn. They weren’t particularly powerful ones, but the sight of violent, bestial creatures in the form of sentient races unsettled him. Drinking their blood did not seem a desirable option. On the plus side, he found the necessary herbs to aid a Mabarri at camp.

Ostigar was a time of trepidation for him. The calm before the storm. He never could have predicted just how badly things were about to go however.

Opinions on Caelan and Duncan: He admired Duncan at first, especially after he saved his life. He seemed to be a proud and noble warrior. His opinion however, greatly soured after Duncan killed Ser Jorey. He found the justification of him having drawn his blade flimsy at best, as he’d made no move to attack him. He saw little harm in allowing him to quit, secrets or no. He would vow not to do this as Commander of the Grey. Respect him though he did, he did not agree with his actions.

As for Caelan, he was rather honored to meet the king himself. The man seemed a tad naive, but at the very least he showed the Wardens their due respect, unlike his detestable general Loghain. Truth be told, he saw his unfailing optimism and glory-seeking ways to be the lesser evil to Loghain’s complete contempt for the order. He found Loghain’s insistence that he made a more competent ruler rather hilarious given he apparently believed the Archdemon could be easily killed or that Orlais was the greater threat. He may not have known exactly WHY a Warden was necessary to defeat it for good, but the man still seemed astoundingly ignorant of basic history in regards to blights, which have always come close to annihilating all life on the surface.

He ultimately vowed to avenge them, by any means necessary.

Nightmares: His nightmares of the Archdemon plagued him frequently, growing ever louder as the Blight progressed. He didn’t know what it was asking of him. To join it? To throw himself into the hordes and be devoured? He didn’t know and he didn’t WANT to know. There are few things more terrifying than hearing a malevolent god-thing call to you directly.

He was naturally not happy to hear about the Calling. He’d already been lied to about the joining’s potential lethality, but this was, debatably, even worse. He blamed Duncan more than Alistair. It was hard to fault his friend for having trouble telling him something like that.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to take this lying down. There had to be a cure. A way to stave off the calling. The strange mage, Avernus seemed to have resisted it for a considerable amount of time, all the while prolonging his natural lifespan. Perhaps this research could lead him to a more permanent solution.

Broken Circle Nightmare: The real nightmare was navigating that place.

Flemith: She seemed to be a somewhat charming if deeply unsettling person at first. Given that she saved him and Alistair, he couldn’t find much reason to dislike her, especially with his indifference to apostasy. After Morrigan revealed her method of immortality however, his opinion did a 180. Perhaps the Witch of the Wilds was a serious threat after all. He elected to deal with her. He shudders at the thought of the reports that she may not be entirely dead.

Dog Name: Spinx, after my family’s old dog.

Lothering: He did whatever he could for the people in Lothering. Aiding the Chantry’s relief efforts, searching for missing persons, clearing out hostile wildlife, and other small gestures. Aside from Sten and Leliana, he wouldn’t hear if any of the townspeople survived until much later when he heard he’d actually had distant cousins in the village, and most of the family had fled to Kirkwall. He was surprised to have missed them.

He regretted leaving the town like he did. A part of him wanted to stand and fight. Unfortunately, he knew their small party couldn’t take on an army of that size. Hopefully, other refugees had gotten out in time. Several had announced their intentions to do so.

Loghain Propaganda Reaction: As mentioned before, he has a low regard for Loghain as a leader, and this was probably the biggest reason why. He could hardly believe someone would be so self-sabotaging. It was as if he was TRYING to ensure the deaths of everyone.

Circle: He elected to forgo the Right of Annulment. While the demonic incursion was a formidable threat, he felt they had to at least try to rescue the remaining mages. Both out of camaraderie and out of necessity. Ferelden would need their aid soon enough.

Haven: As mentioned before, he had to wonder exactly what had caused the cult to believe a high dragon was Andraste reborn. They seemed to be a truly deranged group of people. He balked at the idea of aiding them in destroying the ashes, but pretended to go along with it regardless, due to their offering of their secret of the art of the reaver. He had to admit though that their ability to communicate with and seemingly tame it was impressive. Nonetheless, he had to slay it to make the passage safe for future pilgrims.

He didn’t get the opportunity to keep any ashes after healing the Arl. He didn’t want to risk angering the Maker himself by getting into a fight with the guardian for more.

Loved One at Temple: Seeing Jowan again was surreal, especially since he was already in the dungeon back at Redcliffe. He still maintained that he regretted nothing and would still have helped him escape.

Defense of Redcliff: He and his party held the line at Redcliff, slaughtering many of the undead that besieged the village. Villagers there would later describe them as being like a four man army rather than a simple adventurer’s party. It was impossible to prevent all casualties that night but most of the faces he saw during his daytime preparations still greeted him at dawn.

Truth be told, he wasn’t particularly reluctant to defend the town. He was, after all, a Grey Warden. Being a bystander was rather contrary to his oath, and he did not take that oath reluctantly. Normally, he’d be more specialized in handling Darkspawn but the actual specifics of who he defended people from were never that important to him. Truth be told, the undead and demons at Redcliff seemed eerily similar to the Darkspawn as a threat. At the very least, he was qualified to handle it.

In addition, abandoning it would have been foolish from a practical standpoint. The town was a huge part of why Arl Eamon could help them in the first place. Eamon would be crippled without his people or his soldiers. It would be foolish to write them off as a secondary concern.

Connor and Jowan: He didn’t feel they had enough time to journey all the way to the circle to get aid from the mages there. Waiting meant more undead incursions, and the Arl was on borrowed time himself. Jowan’s blood magic was the only option they had at the time. Regrettable as Isolde’s sacrifice was, it ultimately allowed him to journey into the Fade and slay the desire demon controlling Conor. Even managed to trick it into offering him the secrets of Blood Magic before reneging on the deal. Forbidden or no, he needed every tool he could get against the Darkspawn.

Jowan was ultimately returned to the circle. It was the most lenient sentence the Warden could broker. He’d use his pull as Warden Commander and savior of the circle to delay his execution as long as possible. When the joining could be performed once more, he’d look into recruitment.

Isolde’s death was regrettable, and he understood Alistair’s rage at his decision. He managed to console his friend on the loss and explain his reasoning. It was the only way to save Connor. Admittedly, privately, he wasn’t as torn up by her death as he let on. She’d been an abusive, cruel, and reckless woman concerned with her reputation at least as much as her son, and what she’d actually done to Alistair made Alexei feel she was unworthy of his sympathy.

Elves and Werewolves: Ultimately, he managed to convince Zathrian to release his curse on the werewolves, at the cost of his and the Lady of the Forest’s lives. This transformed the werewolves back into humans, and secured an alliance with the Dalish Elves.

Orzimar Crisis: Alexei never thought he’d find himself backing Bhelen. The man was a ruthless, untrustworthy bastard who murdered a man in public. However, he was won over by his plans for granting rights to the casteless and reforming the Dwarven government, as well as by his ambitions to reclaim the Deep Roads. The way things were going, even if the Blight were thwarted, Dwarven civilization could fall within a generation if something weren’t done and Harrowmont made it clear he wouldn’t be the one to do it.

His plans would pay off. Not only did Bhelen deliver on his promises of aid, but his rule would allow the Dwarven society to bounce back from the brink, ending a centuries long era of stagnation and clinging to life in a single city. He did still regret the death of Harrowmont’s clan.

Anvil Conflict: Despite her atrocities, Alexei ultimately sided with Branka. Deranged as she was, he felt she was right that Caradin was a fool to destroy the Anvil. The abuses of the technology in the past didn’t change the fact that the Golems could be indispensable to the war effort, and give the dwarves a major edge in reclaiming the Deep Roads from the Darkspawn. And the less ground the Darkspawn had, the better.

Anora: His opinion of Anora was decidedly mixed. He was glad to have her support, but was rather uncomfortable with her apologism toward her father and his actions. Ironically, the betrayal meant a bit less to him, since it was a no-win scenario, and she DID tell his comrades so they could save him and his team. Still, their differences would prove irreconcilable at the landsmeet, where she would turn on him for seeking justice. She is now in the dungeons, and likely will be for the rest of her life.

Landsmeet result: As you may have guessed by that last bit, Alexei supported Alistair alone. While Anora would have been a good ally to strengthen his claim, her position on justice for his comrades at Ostigar made this a non-starter.

Alexei took to Ferelden politics like a fish to water despite his isolated upbringing, and when it came time to advocate for dethroning Loghain, you couldn’t have asked for a better orator.

It helps that Ferelden politics is very adventurer friendly.

His efforts to save Anora weren’t as pointless as he thought. He was able to expose the horrific torture of political dissidents at the hands of the now deceased Howe. The rescue of several prisoners won over numerous important families, and earned a condemnation from the grand cleric, further ensuring support.

Exposing the slave trafficking ring with Tevinter was similarly beneficial. While many nations sold slaves to Tevinter despite outlawing it domestically, Ferelden proudly stood stalwart as an opponent to this practice. Even with the immense prejudice against the elves of Thedas, there were some things the people simply wouldn’t tolerate. A part of him wished he’d kept the magister heading the operation alive for testimony. Alas, he reduced the man to a red stain on the wall after the man had the audacity to offer up the lives of his slaves in a blood ritual to barter for his life.

He was rather expecting the nobility to refuse to acknowledge the Blight as the true threat. After all, they were already ignoring it under their new king. However, one could not simply ignore this threat without consequence it seemed. Arl Wulff of West Hills had seen his lands devastated and two of his sons killed by the Blight Loghain was so keen to ignore, and rallied likeminded nobles to back the man who was finally acknowledging the threat.

His silver tongue was even able to permit them access to the Landsmeet itself, managing to talk down Ser Cauthrien before bloodshed ensued. They’d need all of Ferelden’s finest warriors alive to face the Blight. The two would ultimately serve together in the final battle.

Ultimately it would come down to a tie. Alister and Loghain would battle personally for the title of king. Alas, few had the confidence Alexei did in his prized Mabari to serve as champion.

Loghain’s Fate: Tempting as the joining was, Alexei would not deny his comrades, nor the innocents harmed by Loghain’s crimes justice. Alistair would execute Loghain himself, avenging those he betrayed.

Fate of The Warden: Alexei was loathe to admit it, but after all he’d been through, the idea of death still terrified him. He was willing to die, but far from eager. When Morrigan offered her… ritual, he accepted the offer. Not exactly the ideal way to have children but he’d hoped to do so someday regardless, and he had the inexplicable feeling that having Urthemiel’s spirit carry on in an unblighted form would be a good thing for the world.

Boon from the King: He asked Alister to grant independence to the Circle of Magi. This way, the Templars would have greater accountability on their treatment of them, more limited authority, and less cruelty in their containment.

Warden’s Keep: Alexei ultimately agreed with Avernus on his assessment of Sophia’s rebellion. It was a necessary revolt against a tyrant king which gave the Wardens purpose in a world between blights.

While the Wardens were not meant to intervene in matters of politics, serving as a neutral order that worked to stop the Blights for the sake of all nations, and gaining unconditional support so long as they did only this, but Arland had already been delegitimizing the Wardens, who were increasingly seen as a useless relic long after the last Blight. Dryden’s actions, though unsuccessful, propelled the Wardens back to their prior prestige. He endorsed her actions fully, even if no proof could be found to back it up.

He concluded that despite the solid rationale of Warden neutrality, it was doing more harm than good. After all, he could not remain neutral when yet another Tyrant brought them down, nor did he remain neutral when he encountered countless hardships as the result of the blight that were technically politically charged, nor in the countless issues he needed to resolve to put his allies in a position to honor their treaties. He felt it was high time that the Wardens took a more proactive stance as protectors of the weak and opponents of evil. At the very least, they could ensure the world was in a position to face the next Blight without a repeat of Ostigar.

Levi would take over Soldier’s Peak, restoring it into a major base of operations for the rebuilding order.

Avernus himself would continue his research under greater ethical constraints. His new form of blood magic could grant serious advantages to the Wardens by tapping into the power of their tainted blood. Expanding on its original purpose and making the order even more formidable.

Golems of Amgarrak: The expedition to the lost Thaig yielded more horrors than knowledge unfortunately. He would have to hedge his bets on Branka and Bhelen resolving their conflict over Golem usage. Nonetheless with their abominable experiments cleared, an expedition for resettlement could begin.

Stone Prisoner: Shale would be recruited at the end of course. Her fate is detailed above. Fortunately, Alexei was also able to dispose of the local desire demon without her possessing the daughter of Shale’s owner.

Witch Hunt: Alexei would ultimately convince Morrigan to allow him to accompany her through the Eluvian to see their son. He deserved that much after everything.

Amaranthane and Vigil’s Keep: Alexei chose to stay and defend Amaranthane. He could hardly abandon his people in their time of need, and they couldn’t afford to lose such an important city.

He’d invested countless resources into fortifying the keep, strengthening it, training its troops and equipping them with the finest weapons and equipment. Its walls of Dwarven stone would hold. It had to hold.

And hold it did. The Darkspawn would fail to breach its walls, and be handily repelled by its garrison. Its troops would become a great order of warriors in their own right, defending the realm for centuries to come.

The Architect: Alexei, upon hearing of his motivations, decided to spare the Architect. While Sigrun and Justice took some persuading, they reluctantly agreed. The Architect’s experiments had caused great hardship for the world, but also great results. If he truly could free the Darkspawn of the Archdemon’s calling and allow them to coexist with the rest of the world, it could solve the Blights for good. He had to take the chance. The world may not survive two more Blights.

Will do my other characters soon.

Dragon Age Character Questions

by myself and @vitosscaletta

ESSENTIALS

What is their name, and how old are they? Does their name or birthday hold any significance?

What class do they belong to? How did they initially train and learn their skills?

What race do they belong to? What are their opinions on the other races of Thedas?

What is their moral alignment?

What do they specialize in within their class?

Do they have a preferred weapon they always use?

How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

Do they have any notable scars, markings, tattoos, etc.?

LIFE

What region in Thedas were they born in? What was their hometown (and their home itself) like?

What social class were they born into? How did it affect their upbringing?

How many languages do they speak? Do they have any sort of accent?

Describe their family. Who were they close to? Were there any particular childhood friends?

What religion were they born into? Do they still follow it?

Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

Did they ever work a normal, everyday job?

What sort of education did they receive?

What do they do with their free time? Do they have any vices?

Have they ever been seriously injured? What was the outcome?

Do they prefer being stealthy or charging head-on?

How efficient are they with things like crafting potions or repairing their own armor?

PARTY

Who does their preferred party consist of?

Which companions (or advisors) are they closest friends with? Who do they respect?

Which companions (or advisors) do they like to spend time with when they’re not travelling?

Are there any companions (or advisors) they don’t get along with? Have any of them ever left the party?

Did they do companion quests? What were the outcomes of those?

Do they have a love interest? How did their relationship start?

How did their relationship progress? If they’re a canon romance option, is their story different from the way the game presents it?

CODEX

How do they feel about Mages and magic, including things like abominations?

How do they feel about Templars and the Circle?

How do they feel about the Grey Wardens?

How do they feel about the Fade, spirits, and demons?

How do they feel about darkspawn?

How do they feel about dragons?

How do they feel about religions that are not their own, like the Chantry or the Qun?

How do they feel about the Deep Roads?

What places in Thedas have they been to? What do they think about places other than their homeland?

Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs?

PROTAGONIST-SPECIFIC QUESTIONS UNDER THE CUT

Keep reading

[haledamage]

OKAY. Now that I'm home: Dragon Age questions Essentials 7 + 8, Life 3, 6, 10, Party 7, Codex 10 + 11 for all of them, and then whichever question you'd like to answer most for each of them from the game-specific sections. :3

Essentials: 7. How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

Cait Cousland: in her downtime, she's a basic shirt-and-breeches girl. low effort, easy to move in. she usually wears her Grey Warden armor while fighting, leather with a light metal breastplate and chainmail, and she also has basic leather armor for when she needs to appear unaffiliated. but she's still a noblewoman, and knows how to dress to impress; she has a collection of nice dresses for fancy needs (mostly blue or grey, the girl has a color palette and is sticking with it), as well as a few suits for when she prefers to be fancy but also wear pants.

Carah Amell: robes. robes, robes, robes for every occasion. comfy robes for downtime, fancy robes for formal settings, slightly-armored robes for combat that bear the Grey Warden insignia. there is a reason mages where robes and that reason is that they are comfortable as hell. her colors are green and blue

Evie Hawke: Evie likes to have fun with clothes. no real preference between pants and dresses, but she's definitely the type to wear sneakers with her formalwear or show up to the Hanged Man way overdressed for a card game. and she's a mage, so she doesn't differentiate much between "day clothes" and "fight clothes". her colors are red, black, and orange

Bran Trevelyan: despite the big hammer and androgynous name, Branwyn is the girliest of all of them. she wears heavy armor while fighting, though usually scalemail rather than full plate, for the sake of mobility, but outside of combat she loves a pretty dress or a velvet waistcoat. in game, she wears the Venture Capital variation. her colors are pink and white

Essentials: 8. Do they have any notable scars, markings, tattoos, etc.?

Cait is covered in scars, but the most significant are the one on her forehead (from the Landsmeet. Shield Bash sucks when you are on the receiving end), one below her left collarbone (darkspawn arrow, Ostagar), and a sort of Lichtenberg figure-like scar up her spine from the Archdemon (I headcanon that even though Morrigan's ritual kept the Wardens from dying, the Archdemon's death still left a physical mark on all the Wardens near it when it died)

Carah is a Spirit Healer, so she doesn't have many scars. the only one she really has is the same Archdemon one Cait has. but as far as "markings" go, what she lacks in scars she makes up for in freckles. just. so many

Evie has the same freckles as her cousin, as well as the same magical specialization, so she only has one major scar (well, two: an entrance wound and an exit wound. she got lightly stabbed by a certain Arishok. lightly). I feel like she has tattoos of some kind, but I've never really figured out what they are beyond the fact of their existence

Bran has a few scars on her face (one that crosses her right eye and another across the left side of her lips) that she got by taking a really stupid dare as a kid. she also has a nasty scar along her right hip and thigh from That One Fall when Corypheus attacks Haven. and, y'know, her left arm is amputated below the elbow post-Tresspasser. but considering that she's a career soldier, she has surprisingly few scars. she also has a tattoo that takes up most of her right bicep, it's a knotwork variation on the Trevelyan family crest, and has a series of green dots tattooed around her left eye that she got after she joined the Inquisition

Life: 3. How many languages do they speak? Do they have any sort of accent?

Cait speaks Ferelden, Common, and knows a tiny bit of Orlesian and Antivan, but that's really it. She has a pretty standard Ferelden accent, though it still gives away her noble background even though she hasn't been a noble for a decade now

Carah speaks Common, Ferelden, Orlesian, Ander, Antivan, Tevene, and a bit of Elvish. you've gotta find some way to occupy yourself in the Circle. she has what I call a "Circle accent" which is vaguely Ferelden in her case, but with bits of other accents picked up from other mages.

Evie speaks Common, Ferelden, Orlesian, and a little Tevene. Free Marches languages, essentially. she has a Ferelden accent, though it goes a bit Marcher after a decade in Kirkwall

Bran speaks Common, Ferelden, and Orlesian, and has a thick Marcher (Scottish) accent, like Sebastian's.

gonna put the rest under a cut because this got really long 😅

Life: 6. Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

Carah and Evie don't have much attachment to their birth cultures. Carah doesn't remember the Free Marches, and everything she knows about Ferelden she learned after she became a Warden. Evie has always lived expecting to either have to run away or get taken away when people find out she's a mage, so she never let herself get attached to Ferelden or its people much.

Cait and Bran are both very proud of where they're from. Cait shares her country's love of dogs and freedom and the stubborn prejudice against all things Orlesian, and she loves the rainy season even when it rains for two weeks nonstop. Bran shares the Marches love of independence, but specifically Ostwick seems to have a love of whimsy and drama that she shares.

Life: 10. Have they ever been seriously injured? What was the outcome?

I answered this for Cait here!

I don't think Carah's ever been seriously injured, actually. except for at Ostagar, of course.

The Arishok kicked Evie's ass. to this day, she still has no idea how she won that duel

Bran almost died escaping Corypheus's assault on Haven, and got pretty fucked up during both the mages' and templars' recruitment (yes, I headcanon that she recruited both. peace should have been an option, dammit. I think it would have been more interesting if both Samson and Calpernia were there as well)

Party: 7. How did their relationship progress? If they’re a canon romance option, is their story different from the way the game presents it?

Carah was smitten with Leliana from the moment she first saw her. there's no real drama or issues with them when it comes to romance, they just slowly fell in love while on a mission to save the world. wlw fairytale romance stuff, fluffy and sweet

I did all the DA2 romances with Evie, and I love all of them, but I think her canon romance is with Fenris. which was... rocky, to say the least. every time they tried to get together, something came in and tore them apart. but they never hid or shied away from how they felt, and they do eventually find their way to a happy ending

Bran and Blackwall are very flirtatious from the beginning. the most sexually charged, even more than Cait/Zev. she takes the whole Rainier reveal pretty calmly, all things considered, but Blackwall/Thom insists that they start over after the truth about him comes out. so Bran, lucky lady that she is, gets courted twice; once by Warden-Constable Gordan Blackwall and once by Thom Rainier

(I also ship Bran/Barris, but I haven't figured out many details about that other than THEY'D BE REALLY CUTE OKAY)

I put Cait last just because she has 3 "canon" romances and I can't pick which one I like best. her actual-in-game-canon-romance is Zevran, who she falls into bed with pretty much immediately. they fall in love much more slowly, and are even slower to admit it.

not-possible-in-game-romance #1 is Nathaniel Howe, who Cait was romantically involved with when they were teenagers until he went to the Free Marches. he comes home to find his home belongs to the Wardens, and the one in charge is his old girlfriend. childhood friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers

not-possible-in-game-romance #2 is Loghain Mac Tir, who Cait ends up befriending accidentally after she spares him at the Landsmeet. they have similar bleak practical outlooks on the world and get along surprisingly well, leading to a close friendship neither of them expected. it takes a long time to admit any romantic feelings, for lots of reasons (like the fact that they've tried to kill each other several times, and the huge age difference), but they get there eventually

Codex: 10. Are there any animals they have a particular love or hatred for?

answered here for Cait!

Carah loves cats. and nugs. she and Leliana probably have a ridiculous amount of both

Evie is also a cat lover (and of course loves her mabari, Rex). hates deepstalkers so so so much. their faces are creepy and they sneak around in the dark and just... gross. no thanks

Bran specifically hates Lord Woolsley. bloody demon goat bastard.

Codex: 11. Do they have any interest in folk tales or folk songs?

Carah does! not just because her girlfriend's a bard, but she's always enjoyed poetry and songs and the stories people tell to explain the unexplainable

Cait has always liked war stories, or stories of great heroes. except the ones people started writing about her. could do with less of those

Evie knows a bawdy tavern song or two but beyond that her favorite stories are always Varric's

Bran also likes Varric's stories, and Maryden's songs, but she's recently gained a particular appreciation for "less popular" stories about famous heroes. not the stories of the grand things they did, but stories of little things. the day to day lives of people before they became famous.

AND THEN, for a specific question for each of them:

Cait Cousland:

Origins: 17. What did they think of Anora? How did they feel about her betraying them?

Cait adores Anora. she's shrewd and intelligent and a good queen, who understands the balance she has to maintain between what the people want and what the country needs. the two of them become good friends

and Anora didn't betray Cait at the Landsmeet. Cait followed through on the promises she made Anora, and Anora returned the favor. funny how that works

Carah Amell:

Origins: 13. Did they help protect Redcliffe? What happened to Connor? How did they deal with Jowan?

look, you know I had to do the Jowan question 😁

Carah protected Redcliffe, and managed to keep everyone alive overnight. for Connor, she brought in mages from the Circle, and went into the Fade herself to get him un-possessed

for Jowan, I go a little off-canon. she convinces him to leave while she deals with the Connor situation (because she doesn't want the Circle getting their hands on him), and then they meet up again later and he travels with the party for a while. he's her oldest and best friend, and she's going to protect him dammit

Evie Hawke:

DA2: 5. What was their remaining sibling’s fate?

Carver became a Grey Warden, and he and Cait become besties (after a bit of an initial personality clash). he also, once he has time to grow up outside of his big sister's shadow, becomes a great leader in his own right, and mends his relationship with Evie

bonus, DA2: 12. How did they feel about becoming the Champion of Kirkwall?

Bran Trevelyan:

Inquisition: 4. Do they approach the Mages or the Templars for help? Did they conscript or ally themselves with their respective faction? How do they feel about their rival (Calpernia or Samson)?

as I said, I headcanon that she was able to ally with both factions and then literally sits down with Fiona, Barris, and her advisors (and maybe Cassandra and her sister Moira, who is a mage and part of her inner circle) and forces them to have an adult conversation and reach an actual compromise

but in-game, Bran sides with the templars. while I personally think the mages are the "right" side, I like the templar quest better, and I find Calpernia and Barris more compelling characters than Fiona and Samson. she choses to ally with them, not conscript them, and she understands Calpernia's motivations and sympathizes with her. they manage to part of peaceful terms, and I like to think maybe become penpals someday after Calpernia returns to Tevinter

and also Inquisition: 8. What did their Nightmare appear as in the Fade? What was on their gravestone?

The Nightmare: Branwyn... the leader of the Inquisition. Herald of Andraste. Do you think this will finally get your parents to notice you? They haven't even realized you're gone...

and her gravestone reads: Branwyn: Uselessness

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing  is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace”  Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment —  that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

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[thiefbird]

Alistair meeting Anders again after Anora makes him go after Dirthail 👀👀👀

I had a fun idea for this! For @dadrunkwriting

Alistair rushed up the stairs to Dirth's quarters, dodging servants and junior Wardens as he went. He'd never been up here, had barely ever set foot in Vigil's Keep, really. Thankfully the senechal had given him detailed instructions on how to get there, or else he'd have been completely lost

The hallway at the top of the stairs was dauntingly long, and Alistair lowed his pace, eyeing each door nervously. The senechal had advised him that Morrigan's quarters were on this hall, too, and the Howe's, as Warden-Constable, neither of which he relished seeing. Morrigan because of their long-lasting rivalry, and Nathaniel Howe because of murdering his father.

Though Dirthail had been involved in the murdering, and by all accounts, he and Howe were perfectly amiable. More amiable than Dirth and Alistair in recent years.

And didn't that sting? Alistair knew he had been the one to pull away, but still. Dirth could have reached out, could have apologised.

Alistair finally made it to the end of the hall, and without knocking, burst into the grand, yet cosy, quarters.

A fire was gently roaring in the hearth, Barkspawn snoring gently in front of it. And prone on the couch was...

A decidedly naked blond man, posed provocatively, and fast asleep.

"Oh dear Maker! Alistair exclaimed, waking both the man and the mabari as he covered his eyes.

The blond man screamed, hands flying to cover his crotch. "What the fuck?!" he shouted indignantly. "Who in the Fade are- King Alistair?!"

Alistair's face was burning red as he peeked out from behind his fingers. The man had tossed a pillow into his lap and was now leaning back on the couch, completely comfortable in his nudity now the shock had passed.

"Err- yes. That's me? I, uh, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

The naked man snorted, head lolling back on the armrest. "Of course you don't. I am Anders, former apostate and current Warden-Healer. I'm honestly hurt, ser, you were there when I was recruited."

That jostled Alistair's memory, a dim idea of arriving at the Vigil just after Dirth had taken command. "Ah, yes. You're-" Dirth's apostate. Well, his other apostate.

"You're-" he repeated, trying to find a less imprudent way to refer to Anders.

"I'm the Warden-Commander's kept man, as opposed to Morrigan, yes," Anders drawled lazily, gesturing to the room around them. "Which explains my presence. I assume you were not looking for me, but for Dirth?"

Something in Alistair's chest (not his heart, no, it couldn't be his heart) snapped at the casually possessive tone in Anders' voice. He was too late.

"Yes. I have... important matters to discuss with him. Kingly business."

Anders grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "He's busy."

"Well, when will he be available?" Alistair demanded, feeling the childish urge to stomp his foot at the cheeky expression on the mage's face.

Anders shrugged, "He's with Morrigan and their- and our son," he corrected himself, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

"And you were... waiting for him?"

"Mmm," Anders agreed. "A surprise. I should probably get dressed, if you have 'kingly business' to discuss. Maybe I'll go bother Nate instead."

He stood up, smirking as Alistair averted his eyes again, and threw on a set of rather revealing robes. It was almost worse than seeing the man naked, watching him fuss with the flimsy, sheer material, draping it artfully around his waist and hips.

Anders gestured to the now-vacated couch as he moved to the door. "Good luck with your business, King Alistair." he said with a wink as he left.

[anneapocalypse]

#interesting #tho i think that Leliana's problem as a whole and why she's 'hard to read' and has this appearing contradicting story is because #Leliana doesn't know who she is#not in a - 'she's finding herself' narrative but more in a 'Leliana has internalised the We Wear Masks part of Orlais too deeply' #she twists and turns according to the situation to fit the mold people expect of her - or that she tries to expect of herself #and she's lost herself so deeply that in DAO DA2 and even DAI - it's not the 'real' her and I don't even think she knows who she really is #because she's lost herself trying to fit the masks. She's absorbed them so fully and does it so often that there is no real her anymore imo #its why she's so lost without having anyone to guide her or being 'above' her #she's what the Marjolaine wants her to be#she's what the Warden wants her to be #she's what Justinia what's her to be #and then she's what she thinks the world needs - no thoughts about its actual impact #i think she's forgotten an essential part of Orlesian culture that Vivienne tells us - there IS supposed to be a real you beneath the mask#when you take the mask off you ARE the real you - not whatever construct you've invented. #Leliana has been so absorbed into her masks - likely in part because Marjo demanded it of her - that she has no real center anymore imo #I think that's why Leliana and Vivienne - though cordial - appear to be on opposite specters #Vivienne has always known who she is even beneath all her masks while Leliana doesn't and simply jumps from mask to mask #it's also why Leliana and Morrigan clash - because Morrigan and Viviene while also on opposite specters have more in common than they'd lik #i honestly think the issue is the same #they are well defined and unmovable no matter what trappings they wear while Leliana only has the dress#to be clear - that is not a bad thing; its very interesting imo #Leliana becoming Divine completes her arc and she becomes the robes of the religion she wishes was so different than it actually is#once again finding purpose in becoming the personification of a construct she has envisioned#either way interesting thoughts#dragon age

@riddleredcoats Sorry to pull this out of the tags but I had to say that I agree with this assessment wholeheartedly! Leliana does not know who she is. She doesn't know in Origins, and she still doesn't know in Inquisition, which is why her personality is still able to be swayed one way or the other by the person leading her despite her not really having the close relationship with the Inquisitor that she can have with the Warden.

This is why, in looking at her rather two-faced behavior toward Morrigan, I don't take either of those faces to be the "true" Leliana necessarily. Or rather in a sense they're both true. The Leliana who calls Morrigan a vile fiend is both as authentic and as inauthentic as the Leliana who wants to convert Morrigan to faith in the Maker and also dress her in velvet and admire her "features."

And a big yes to Morrigan and Vivienne in contrast both having a very strong sense of self that is not easily swayed by others.

This is why I think that a lot of the differences between Origins!Leliana and Inquisition!Leliana are superficial, and can be deceptive. She has not gone on a journey of self-discovery. Even her faith is malleable to her present situation and who she is presently allowing herself to be influenced by. She's still struggling with the same centerlessness and lack of identity after ten years. It's the real tragedy of her character, imo, regardless of how the Inquisitor steers her post-Inquisition.

I cannot help feeling like the tendency to see Inquisition!Leliana in stark contrast to Origins!Leliana has led to some people forgetting what... Leliana is actually like in Origins.

In fairness, as in all Dragon Age games some very revealing character moments happen in party banter which makes it easy to miss. But the gentle-hearted mystic who desires only to draw others unto the love of the Maker has never been all that Leliana is, and it's always been in direct conflict with the side of her that is not only adept at intrigue and yes, violence, but enjoys those things. This is the central conflict of her whole character, and it's not a trivial conflict, because there is not one simple answer to who Leliana truly is. She is both of these things. She is deeply religious and finds comfort in her faith, and thinks it should bring comfort to others as well. She's also prone to gossip and pettiness and all the qualities that helped her thrive as a bard.

There's this one particularly revealing piece of banter with Alistair if the Warden is in a romance with Morrigan:

Alistair: So have you heard? Morrigan and him are... you know. Leliana: Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip? And besides, he can probably hear us both. You're not being very discreet. Alistair: No, look, he's not even paying attention. Leliana: Hmmm. maybe. You don't... think that he's serious about it, do you? The woman is a vile fiend. Alistair: Well, look here, now who's an idle gossip? Me-ow! Leliana: You're the one who started this, I might remind you. And I'm... well, I'm ending it!

I once had the especially entertaining experience of getting this banter, and minutes later hearing Leliana turn to Morrigan to give her the "It's so nice that you're together, isn't love wonderful?" line. But whether or not you have the pleasure of hearing them back to back, I think this dialogue make it pretty clear that while Leliana would like not to think of herself as a gossip, it takes very little prompting from Alistair to get her to slip back into that mean girl persona. And Alistair (who is more perceptive than he often gets credit for), calls her on it immediately, clearly embarrassing Leliana--who realizes that her mask has slipped.

I don't think it follows from this that Leliana necessarily hates Morrigan unilaterally. There's something much more complex going on between them, in my opinion, because they are such distinct opposites in upbringing and personality. Both Leliana's faith and her life of courtly intrigue are nonsense to Morrigan, who neither believes in the Maker nor has much patience for intricate social graces (at least, not yet). Meanwhile, I think Morrigan's outward self-possession and the sense of power she exudes is a source of both fascination and frustration for Leliana, who thinks she understands power, both social and divine--but finds in Morrigan a kind she cannot fully comprehend. (I also think you can definitely feel some sexual tension into their banter, especially the much-beloved banter about the velvet dress.) Ultimately, both of them are very concerned with power, but approach that concept very differently. And Leliana responds to this clash of ideals in a particular way because her own self-image is so conflicted.

As all great Dragon Age foils do, Leliana and Morrigan needle one another, push each other's buttons, challenge one another's sense of self, and in doing so reveal one another in their complexity and sometimes in their ugliness. It is perhaps easy to write this off as the tired trope of women being unable to get along with one another, or conversely to claim that they get along just fine and fandom has fabricated the tensions between them; I think to do either of those things diminishes a genuinely complex and sticky relationship that serves to reveal a lot about both characters.

[heartscfvalor]

Introducing: Emrys Amell

Night will fall and drown the sun When a good man goes to war

Emrys Amell is a cousin to the Hawke family, proven to have magical abilities as early as four years old and thus taken to the Fereldan Circle of Magi in order to train himself into controlling his powers. Emrys took his studies very seriously, though as he grew older, the more he started to daydream about what life could be like outside of the Circle walls, to have a life of his own where he was at command of his destiny, rather than the Templars.

Just barely past his nineteenth birthday, Emrys was pulled out of bed by the Templars and taken to the top of the Tower, where his Harrowing was to begin. Stepping into the Fade, he set forth to face off against the demon of Pride, as well as a demon of Rage, and he finished in record timing. He was given his full robes as a mage within the Circle by First Enchanter Irving, as well as a staff of his very own.

However, the happy celebration was not to last very long. Emrys’ long time friend, Jowan, came to seek him out, and in a conversation huddled behind bookshelves in the temple, he introduced Emrys to the Chantry initiate, Lily, with whom he had been carrying on an affair with. They had dreams of running away from the Circle and Chantry together, due to Lily finding out that Jowan was slated for forceful Tranquility on suspicion of him being a blood mage, and they needed Emrys’ help with their escape, due to him finally being made a full mage. Horrified and concerned, Emrys of course agreed to help, and he was able to obtain a rod of fire before following the duo down to the basement where the phylacteries were being held. Jowan’s was destroyed easily enough, though Emrys, wishing he could follow, was unable to find his own; it had been sent ahead to Denerim and thus was out of his reach.

Unfortunately, it was all for naught. When the trio left the basement, it was to find Irving, and Greigor, and his Templars, waiting for them; Jowan revealed he was indeed a blood mage by using blood magic to fight back against the Templars, and Lily, terrified, rejected him, causing him to flee on his own. Emrys was unable to follow, feeling a strange sort of guilt over betraying Irving, but he was saved from death when the Grey Warden, Duncan, conscripted him into the Grey Wardens, citing that they needed all the help they could get.

After the Battle of Ostegar, Emrys becomes the new leader of the Fereldan branch of Grey Wardens, with Alistair as his right hand man. His magic is mostly dependent on nature, using fire and ice to his advantage, as well as various different mana types of magic for healing. His favored romance is Morrigan, with them ending up conceiving a son together on the eve of the final battle. Kieran has the soul of an old god.

[scarletarosa]

Morrígan

Celtic goddess of war, fate, the cycle of life and death, rebirth, sovereignty, wisdom, and prophecy

Morrígan (also called Morrigu) has her name translate from Irish as ‘Great Queen’. This name is a key to her nature, showing that sovereignty and queenship are core aspects of her identity and power. Though some scholars have given the name an alternate etymology, translating it as ‘Phantom Queen’. As one of the Celtic sovereignty Goddesses, Morrígan has an association with the land itself, and the rulership and protection of the land and its people. 

A recent belief has risen from Wicca claiming that Morrígan is a triple goddess, but this is not so and is inaccurate to her myths. Morrígan has several goddesses who work alongside her, but none represent the stages of one’s life, and Morrigan only appears elderly when she is presenting herself as a death omen to warriors.

Morrígan is deeply associated in her source lore with incitement of heroes toward glory in battle, with the granting of victory, and with their deaths; in her own words, she says to the great hero Cú Chulainn, “I am guarding your death”. In battle, she takes part in the action primarily through the use of sorcery, Druidic magic, shapeshifting, terrorizing the enemy, and giving aid and strategic information to her people. She shapeshifts into many forms in her tales, including crows, ravens, cows, wolves, and eels. She also fulfills important roles with regard to poetry and prophecy, giving poetic incitements to the heroes of the Tuatha Dé Danann to rise to their hour of need, giving prophetic pronouncements of victory or of doom on the eve of decisive battles, and announcing the victories and the tales of great deeds afterward. She also holds some power over life and death, being able to revive fallen warriors in order to allow them to fight again.

Morrígan is part of a group of goddesses who share similar roles: Badb Catha- the Battle Crow of destruction, Némain- frenzy and terror, and Macha- the land, fertility, protection (it is theorized that Féa was included as well). These are all separate goddesses who worked in similar areas of expertise. It is said that Morrígan was so terrifying in battle, that her shrieking war-cries could frighten her enemies to death. Though despite her terror, Morrígan also strives to teach her followers courage, independence, insight, and discipline.

Appearance: a pale woman in her early forties with long black hair, grey eyes, and sharp cheekbones. Her face is very stern and cold, and she wears graphite-black robes, slightly adorned with some crow feathers.

Personality: Morrígan is very serious, withdrawn, mysterious, cold, and sarcastic. She expects her devotees to be disciplined and seek corrections of their weaknesses so they can become stronger, allowing them to prevail. She hardly shows much emotion, and her anger is like ice. Morrígan is also very warlike and values both attack and defense. She is also capable of calling to arms the spirits of the dead (wraiths) to fight for her cause. Morrígan is not afraid of bloodshed, but her focus in war is conquest rather than to revel in killing. This and prophecy are her primary roles, and she does little else since there is nothing she seeks to do out of fun.

Some of her epithets: The Great Queen, The Phantom Queen, The Washer at the Ford, Lady of the Waters, She Who Calls to Battle, Raven Queen, Far-Seeing Sorceress, Bringer of Courage, Protectress, She Who Makes Armies Tremble, and Foreteller of Doom

Offerings: red wine, whiskey, hops, mead, stout beer like Guinness, black tea, blackberries, miniature apples, dark chocolate, venison, roast hog, horse meat, crow/raven feathers or skulls, swords, daggers, blood, black candles, black scrying mirrors, silver jewelry, canine teeth, cow horns, vulture feathers/skulls, ashes, belladonna, dead flowers, animal bones, onyx, garnet, bloodstone, divination tools, strong perfume, black fabric, black pearls, devotional poetry, artwork, crow/raven imagery, and dragon’s blood incense

[kinlochs]

It was no secret that Alistair and Morrigan held an open distaste for one another. Were it up to Alistair, Cassian would assume that the sorceress would certainly not be in their company at this time. But Alistair was not in charge--he actively avoided it, if his comments about assuming the throne indicated as much, and so Cassian found himself having kinship with Morrigan in a very simple way: through magic.

The man manages to chuckle and hiss in pain at the same time. Truth be told, he may have deserved that.

"I thought you would agree," Cassian replies lightly, grunting slightly while he rights himself and gathers the discarded undershirt and mage robe set aside earlier. There is the tell-tale stain of dark crimson from his earlier ailment. Luckily, it is all of the proof that remains of it.

"If only speaking of these things were as easy with Wynne. Magic, I mean--not subjecting Alistair to cruelty, as amusing as it may be." He was a little better than that. A little. Not by much! "I rather feel as if I am being accosted by my mother," Cassian confesses. "Although she holds the Circle in high regard, I cannot share the sentiment. I was manacled in there for long enough."

One would think that Cassian would grow accustomed to such a prison. That he would become docile and malleable to the rules that the Chantry imposed upon mages. He could not disagree more; in fact, the longer he remained within Kinloch Hold, the more his anger grew. Perhaps that was why he had elected to help Jowan, after all. A revenge, almost, or simply the fear that they were going to make him tranquil. How could he let that happen to his friend?

❝ Perhaps I ought to, ❞ She quips in return, annoyance writ plainly on fine features. He has the gall to jest; worse, still, that 'tisn't enough to make her leave him as he is, to manage on his own instead of being of further help. Despite the delay, Morrigan relents — hands returning to their task, magic woven with just a little more sharpness than needed as flesh knits itself shut. ❝ At the very least I would be spared irritating mockery where gratitude ought to be spilling from your lips instead, were you in a stew. ❞

Knowingly or not, Cassian makes the right turn, nonetheless. There is little she delights in more than magic, and the chance to speak of it quells any desire to quarrel further. It yet surprises her, that the other mage shows a rather open mind to learning about magicks beyond the limited tricks allowed by his Circle; Morrigan scarcely expects one leashed for so long to forego the rules that chained him, yet he does all the same. A most pleasant surprise, truth be told. She has little patience for the preaching of those who would defend collaring themselves for the benefit of others.

And so a hum of agreement is offered, ere she adds: ❝ 'Tis most useful in the battlefield, where you may at once strengthen yourself and deplete an enemy. Yet lest you wish to turn on your allies, 'tis a poor substitute for other manners of healing in the aftermath. Entropy, as a whole, benefits from attacking the life force of an opponent, not supporting your own. ❞

❝ Nevertheless, as you so cleverly point out, we have a most fitting target in our would-be templar companion, ❞ Indulgent; a half smirk at the opportunity he offers her to throw a jab at Alistair. If 'tis a peace offering, she takes it. ❝ If you dose how much you take, it may be just enough he, in his brilliance, may not deduce the source of his ailment — and mayhaps 'twould have the added benefit of making him quieter. Speak for yourself on the enjoyment of his banter; I would be much fonder of Alistair should he keep his mouth shut. ❞