#she admires who leliana is trying to be

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Leliana and Gertrude are so similar but it's like they're going in opposite directions in their character arcs and it's making a romance between them kind of impossible.

Leliana was someone involved in a lot of violence and trickery, and she's trying to leave that life behind to be a softer, kinder person.

Gertrude came from a life of luxury where she was a softer person, but she has had to become a more violent and cunning person to be a successful warden. And she's starting to realize she's good at the fighting part and likes doing it.

It's not that they hate each other, in fact Gertrude has a higher relationship with Leliana than anyone else in the group, but Gertrude looks at Leliana and what makes her happy and just sees a life that doesn't fit who she is anymore.

tldr; as always, story beats do not go as planned for my ocs

[ell-vellan]

All My Children Rooks

(thus far)

With reference screenshots and backstories, mostly for my own use for fic purposes.

My first baby girl! and first Rook to finish the game.

Personality: Happy-go-lucky, big-hearted, snarky, (over-)confident, elf nerd, unserious, full of youthful idealism and unflagging (to the point of annoying) optimism. Very much believes she's the gal who's got what it takes to save the world. Goes with her gut, doesn't waste too much time intellectualizing. Unsurprisingly, she and Bellara get along like a house on fire.

Background: Born a slave in Minrathous, as a child served as housekeeper to a minor magister arcanist/professor who taught her to read and know enough to assist in cataloging her scrolls. When Lailani's magic manifested, the scholar sponsored her to join a Circle for her education, intending for her to return as research assistant when her magic was trained. But Lailani, now a young teen and with her first taste of freedom at the Circle, heard about strange rumblings happening in nearby Arlathan, and, having consumed stories and legends of the Dalish all her life (and having always admired Inquisitor Lavellan), saw her chance for adventure and ran away to join a Dalish clan in Arlathan. There, she turns her interest in elven ruins and Imperium training to good use for the fledgling Veil Jumpers. She throws herself headlong into all things ancient elven, exploring ruins and studying artifacts. Like a lot of young Dalish coming of age at this time, she chose an atheistic vallaslin design based on some early maps the first Veil Jumpers had begun finding and creating as they uncovered more ancient relics - rejecting what they know new to be marks of subservience to long-ago tyrants. Met Varric and Harding when they worked with Strife, and, still hungry for adventure, offered to help if they ever needed it again.

View on Solas: Has a complicated relationship with elven culture in general. The Fade and all that ancient elves accomplished with magic is both exciting and fascinating; she wants to be proud of her people and see the good in ancient elves, wants to believe there was something good in the Evanuris, once. She gives Solas the benefit of the doubt because she respects what he was trying to do, but comes across to him like a defiant child who doesn't understand what they are up against.

Inquisitor: Ellawyn Lavellan (romanced Iron Bull)

World state: HoF Mahariel, King Alistair, Leliana is Divine, Celene + Briala rule Orlais, Cole is a spirit, Hawke is alive.

Romance: Davrin

Swashbuckling pirate hero.

Personality: "He a little confused, but he got the spirit" meme personified. Here for the vibes. Severan is a big softie, a chill surfer dude, and a terrible liar (his every emotion shows on his face) . More competent than he might appear. Doesn't take life too seriously, but is seriously good at what he does. Can't ever pass a dog or cat without giving it a pet, and can't ever let a serious moment pass without making a joke to ease the tension. Flirty and adventurous, he's here for a good time, not a long time. Doesn't really know what's going on with all this elvish stuff, but doesn't want the world to end, and he's got this dagger, so...

Background: A swashbuckling treasure hunter, as cliche as they come. He was born on the sea, climbing the rigging as second nature. He knows, and wants, no other life, even though he spent the first half of it enslaved by Tevinter. A chance run-in with Isabela gave him a chance for freedom in the form of his own ship and crew, and once he proved competent and trustworthy, he began treasure runs and artifact hunting with the Lords. It was a good life for a while, living it up with plenty of coin, sea air and white sand beaches - until some Venatori started trouble in a port tavern where Severan was drinking on a break between jobs. He thought they were there for him - the Venatori were always looking for relics lately and causing trouble for the Lords - and inadvertently came to Varric and Harding's rescue.

View on Solas: Fascinated respect. Sort of knows he's out of his league, sort of falls for Solas's lies, but thinks outside the box in ways Solas does not expect.

Inquisitor: Atish'anera Lavellan (romanced Solas)

World state: King Alistair + Queen Cousland, Leliana is Divine, Cole is a spirit, Inquisition disbanded

Romance: TBD

Older brother to the Inquisitor. Solas broke his sister's heart, and he's here for some personal revenge.

Personality: Quietly clever, crafty, and cunning Rasim (banal'ras + him "become shadow") thinks more than he speaks, analyzing situations quickly before jumping into the best course of action. Wise, but also a wise-ass. My personal reincarnation of Felassan. On the surface, he puts you at ease by seeming glib, relaxed, and sarcastic, but he has a deep, dark ruthless streak. Inherently mistrustful of strangers, he wants to believe in the good of his companions, and trusts those that Varric and Lace trust. He comes across effortlessly charming and likeable at first meeting. That is, until you cross him - but you wouldn't even notice the moment he's decided your life needs to end, because he'll keep smirking the whole time. Fast, agile, he could throw knives on targets in his sleep and shoot bullseyes blindfolded. The Crows trained out any hesitance to kill, as well as any lingering instinct for mercy, but he lives by his own set of ethics, and does not follow instructions from the Crows, or anyone, blindly. Despite being a Crow longer than he was Dalish, if push came to shove, his first loyalty is to the elves (but don't tell Viago). He's accepted Antiva as his home and choose not to return to his clan when he had the chance - he believes himself too changed to return to the Dalish way of life.

Background: Rasim was on a ritual hunting trip with other youths of his clan, seeking their first kill to earn their vallaslin, when they were attacked in the night. Those who fought back were killed, and the rest captured and taken north on a slaver's ship. On the journey they were kept overnight in a warehouse in Antiva. Rasim figured out how to open the cage they were in and waited for the right moment to strike back at the men holding him, but just before he could, the Crows executed a contract they had on the slaver. Rasim was free to go - but he was a bare-faced elf in Antiva, far from home, with no money or contacts and no way to get back to his clan. Viago was impressed by Rasim's "scrappiness" and his ingenuity in lockpicking his own shackles, so when Rasim asked to be trained as a Crow, he accepted him, despite him being much older than the usual fledglings. Though he had only joined the Crows for protection and to learn how to defend himself, his charm, his experience as a hunter, knowledge of Dalish uses for poison plants, and his agility helped make him a standout. But the Mage-Templar war soon broke out, and the chaos leading up to the Inquisition prevented him from finding his clan, as by now they could be anywhere. Years later, when he became a full-fledged Crow and had earned money and independence, he was able to make contact with the Dalish again through a nearby travelling clan, and finally get the vallaslin he had earned all those years ago. That clan put him in touch with his own former clan, and Rasim was able to reach out again to let them know he was still alive. And that's when he learned his younger sister Anera had, in his absence, become the First of the clan, and then, to his great surprise, the Herald of Andraste. Brother and sister finally reconnected again after the Inquisition, and it was Anera who recommended her brother to Varric, as someone already on the inside of things going on in the north.

View on Solas: The bastard elven god who slept with his sister, offered to take her vallaslin, and then broke up with her. His ex-almost-brother-in-law. Rasim has the urge to get a little revenge for his sister, but for her sake, he tries to keep an open mind about the guy she (apparently still?) loves. Rasim works the angles on Solas as much as Solas does to him, his sharp mind and insight from Anera on his psyche giving him a bit of an unexpected advantage that sets Solas aback. Rasim tries to see what Anera saw in Solas, he really does, and while he hopes to bring him to heel for her, he wouldn't mind roughing him up a bit in the process.

Inquisitor: Atish'anera Lavellan (romanced Solas)

World State: same as Severan

Love Interest: Either Bellara or Lucanis.

Based on Vessel from Sleep Token (in terms of visual design, at least)

Personality: A bastard-coated bastard with bastard filling. Doesn't see the point in sparing anyone's feelings and doesn't mince his words. Smart, independent, stubborn, doesn't listen to anyone who tells him to cool it.

In actual reality, has a deep sense of justice that is constantly being betrayed, leading to him being angry at the world, 24/7. He's angry, always angry, at the inequality he sees all around him, and the incompetence and corruption of everyone who he believes should be doing something about it and would rather ignore it. A problem solver who's used to only relying on himself and trusts no one else to do what needs done. Will cut to the chase and tell you - rudely - to get to the point. He thinks the world and most of the people in it suck, and that's why he's working to rid the world of those people, in the most efficient way possible. His esteem is hard-earned, but he has no trouble offering it where it's deserved, and he treats those few who he deems worthy with the respect of an equal. There is another side of him, but the only ones who ever see it - and only briefly - are the slaves he helps smuggle out of Minrathous, and the genuinely innocent victims, forgotten by the powerful of Tevinter.

Background: He hates his adoptive father with a cold passion. He was never going to fight for the side of Tevinter, so they were always at odds. He learned to sneak out of the house at an early age, where he was mostly surviving on his own - it's where he learned to be sneaky, and learned to navigate the underbelly and dark alleys of Minrathrous. He doesn't use the given name from his adoptive family but goes by a codename, Vessel, as he prefers thinking of himself only as a vessel for justice (and sometimes, vengeance.) Learned how to blend in easily with other groups and factions; a one-man spy operation, working mostly independently so as to be untraceable, with occasional trusted contacts in the Shadow Dragons. Keeps his face and identity secret as much as possible, so that his doings don't get reported back to Mercar or that connection used against him. He only uses his surname when the weight of the title could be useful. He's a loner who isn't used to working with a team, and struggles with how to trust and connect to others, as he's worked hard to never need anyone.

Antaam-turned-Warden, my interpretation of a "What happened if Sten from Origins went the way of Iron Bull from Inquisition?"

Personality: Still...developing. His personality for most of his life was reduced to "kill things for the Qun" and he was heavily disincentivized in thinking about anything else. He's innately curious, and learning it's okay to ask questions, but he still has the instinct to hit first, ask later. Surprises himself with random moments of wanting to do things the Qun wouldn't have wanted him to think, care about, or do. Things that have no purpose, like the urge to admire the view, pet a cat, or save an innocent civilian. He means well, most of the time, but tends to stick his foot in his mouth, as he's still learning how the bas talk to each other. He's not used to talking, in general.

Background: Among the earlier waves of Antaam that broke from the Qun to invade on their own, Basreth was just a cog in the Qunari war machine, not an individual who had been allowed to develop many of his own interests or opinions about much. His squad of fairly new young soldiers were sent to investigate a report of rogue darkspawn, and they were caught by surprise and overwhelmed. Basreth was the sole survivor, though left infected by the Blight. he had accepted death, as he was no longer pure in the Qun - when the Grey Wardens showed up to investigate the same darkspawn. Impressed that Basreth had finished them off alone and survived, they offered for him to join the Grey Wardens, convincing him that dedicating his life to killing darkspawn was a better use of his body than letting it rot to bones that served no one, and therefore a more honorable choice in the eyes of the Qun. He accepted, and became Basreth, "thing that protects." He is not Tal-Vasoth, but neither is he truly Qunari anymore. Instead, he's thrown his entire fledgling identity into that of a Grey Warden, channeling all the single-minded loyalty that used to go to the Qun into his masters.

Created solely to romance Emmrich, lol

Personality: A scientific, creative open mind paired with bull-headed stubbornness when she knows she's right. Studious, rational, curious, who loves intellectual debate and schooling others she sees as less well-read. A bad-ass mage who likes showing off. Dry wit. Reads obscure high-brow literature and offers to discuss it, acts surprised when others have heard of her favorite scholarly papers.

[muutos]

on-the-run anders, i get he's in such danger bc corypheus, but the way he could have such great dynamics with EVERYONE in the inquisition -- almost. the way he would be so empathetic to blackwall and his reasons for doing what he did, and the honor in changing and being a good man is worth more than your mistakes. admiring his decision to help people, even before joining up, and his owning up to his sins. also they both are wardens, or have been, even if thom doesn't return to the wardens

i've been talking to @eirigh about all the cole possibilities which idk if ya'll need me to say, but the absolute duality of the two of them and how they could help each other, and cole may be the only person who would truly understand....

like, i know cass would arrest him on site. but like, what if she didn't lol. and like, leliana would wanna chop his head off....

but ALSO AN ANDERS AND CULLEN REUNION? anders appreciating his coming to oppose meredith and how 'there are respectable templars' -- how he would whole wholeheartedly support his attempts to kick lyrium and when he's really going through it, use his magic to clear his head for him. tell him he's doing the right thing and how hard it is. telling him old templar jokes he remembers from varric, and being snarky about the 'habit' but not insensitive. just anders-like. and it makes cullen smile.

thanking varric again for being a good friend... acknowledging he has reason to have hate in his heart for him, but he's always taken care of hawke and he is trying.

[wickedapostate]

For Nazari: How do they feel about the Qun? Have they considered joining, if they haven't already?

For Zinnia: Who taught them their primary skill(s)? What was their teacher like?

For Garret: What's the high point of their life? Do you think it's going to get any better for them?

Meme / Accepting!

💖

For Nazari: How do they feel about the Qun? Have they considered joining, if they haven't already?

A big thing that influences Nazari's feelings here is that she is a mage, and well aware thanks to her mothers warnings what happens to mages under the Qun. That out of the way, she longs to know them better being a second generation refugee who's family is from there. She's an outsider for her lineage in Tevinter, but she'd be an outsider in her mother's homelands as well due to her magic and refusal to let others define her.

She does admire their ability to work together, and their self discipline as well. And she holds their cultural traditions close as one of the few things she has left of her mother after Nazari was pretty much kidnapped as a young teen. She uses Qunlat in her speech, and her most affectionate nicknames for people are in Qunlat.

I've also got this from my bio page for Nazari

For Zinnia: Who taught them their primary skill(s)? What was their teacher like?

Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan, as she was pretty much the only other mage in the clan. Deshanna was kind, and very protective. Zinnia was really the only option for First to the Keeper within the clan, and while they could have gone to other clans for a mage, that was far from ideal. That, combined with Zinnia's penchant towards illness as a child led to Deshanna shielding Zinnia from a lot in an attempt to try to ease the pressure on the young girl, though it did also keep them isolated from the world outside the clan and ruins. It came from a place of love, but Deshanna did help foster Zinnia's later problems with anxiety.

Realizing that Zinnia needed experience with the outside world to be an effective leader someday is why she sent Zinnia to the conclave. Take notes both on what was happening, but also Deshanna hoped, on what the people in the outside world are like.

Deshanna does survive with the rest of the clan, and in the aftermath things between her and Zinnia are as equals, not student and teacher. I think Deshanna is proud of Zinnia for holding strong and supports them, but fears for her former student as Mythal's will hangs over their head and they chase after the Dread Wolf.

For Garrett: What's the high point of their life? Do you think it's going to get any better for them?

Honestly? The time after he (& Marian) recruited everyone in Kirkwall and were trying to come up with money for the expedition. There were definitely many many problems, but he hadn't lost Carver to the Gray Wardens or Bethany to the circle, his mom was still alive, Sebastian was still his friend, Anders' head didn't hang heavy with guilt.

Other parts were happier in other ways, his travels with Fenris before Inquisition definitely was another highlight, for once he wasn't the "main character", instead he just got to support his amazing partner hunt down slavers. However, guilt and Lyrium addiction hung heavy over his head as did separation from his twin sister.

In current canon he's stuck in the Fade soooo yeah not a lot of great times happening there. Until/if they don't do something interesting with the choice of who's left in the Fade, he'll be getting out of the Fade around the start of Veilguard thanks to his niece (Marian's adopted daughter)'s efforts to find and rescue him. After things calm down, I think happier times are in store for him. With Leliana as the divine his sisters and brother in law are free from fear of the templars. Enough time has passed and enough has happened that peace can be made with Sebastian. And he can settle down with Fenris, and the random kids Fenris adopted along the way Taavi (an oc I need to develop more)

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Pt. 1b

Another Bloody Negotiation - Leliana Divine

Trespasser Masterpost

The Inquisition rides into the Winter Palace flanked by soldiers.

Cullen: Another parade, another bloody negotiation.

Josephine: Smiles, everyone. We must be careful how we present ourselves.

Cullen: Why did Divine Victoria call the Exalted Council? She’s kept Orlais from bothering us for the last two years.

Josephine: At increasing political cost, yes. She has done all she can, but the Exalted Council has become necessary.

Arl Tegan and Duke Cyril look down at them as they pass.

Josephine: Orlais would control us. And based on their many marriage proposals, they have specific plans for you. Our real concern is Ferelden. They would see us disbanded entirely.

—

The PC enters the Winter palace, where they are greeted by Mother Giselle.

Giselle: Inquisitor. It has been too long. I hope the years have been kind to you.

PC: How have you been, Mother Giselle?

Giselle: I spent last summer in Emprise du Lion, distributing food sent from the Exalted Plains. The Dales are finally recovering.

Dialogue options:

General: Thanks to you. [1]

General: You stay busy. [2]

General: Took them long enough. [3]

1 - General: Thanks to you. PC: Corypheus left a great deal of damage for us to repair. I appreciate your efforts. Giselle: And I yours, Your Worship. [4]

2 - General: You stay busy. PC: Since Corypheus fell, I think you may have spent more time traveling than I have. Giselle: It keeps me out of trouble, Your Worship. [4]

3 - General: Took them long enough. PC: They had better be recovering. Corypheus has been dead for two years. Giselle: Not all wounds heal quickly, but I hope the worst is behind us. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Giselle (PC claimed Suledin’s Keep): I should mention that your forces at Suledin Keep were of great help. Please give my compliments to Baron Desjardins. Giselle (PC did not claim Suledin’s Keep): The Inquisition forces were of great help tending the sick. The Orlesian soldiers at Suledin Keep… somewhat less so.

Giselle: Divine Victoria asked me to greet you on her behalf. She is currently attending to the Fereldan ambassador’s concerns.

8 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: You mean Leliana. [9]

Investigate: How has she done? [10]

General: I’ll find her. [11]

9 - Investigate: You mean Leliana. PC: You can probably just call her Leliana in private conversation. Giselle: You can, Inquisitor. I prefer to use her Divine name. Our last Divine once joked about why I insisted upon calling her Justinia. She called it my way of reassuring her that I had not completely forgotten who was in charge. [back to 8]

10 - Investigate: How has she done? PC: How do you think Divine Victoria has done these last two years? Giselle: It is hardly for me to say, Inquisitor. PC: With respect, that’s never stopped you before, Mother Giselle.

Giselle: Victoria is proving to be a woman that few dare to disagree with. She has already won concessions for the Inquisition. You are fortunate to have her support. [back to 8] Giselle: Victoria has proven adept at winning allies with both her intelligence and her faith. It is a blessing in these trying times. We are lucky to have her. [back to 8] Giselle: Sadly, with the Chantry still struggling to accept her reforms, Victoria’s voice is not as strong as I had hoped. Nevertheless, I admire what she has tried to do. [back to 8]

11 - General: I’ll find her. PC: I’ll speak to Divine Victoria. Giselle: I believe she would appreciate that, Your Worship. The Divine sees the good that you can do, and have done. [21]

21 - Scene continues.

Giselle: Duke Cyril will wish to greet you on behalf of Orlais. I believe he is currently speaking with the Tevinter ambassador. Many of your friends have returned as well. I hope you have a chance to speak with them before the Exalted Council begins.

22 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Which old friends? [23]

Investigate: The Tevinter ambassador? [24]

General: Goodbye. [25]

23 - Investigate: Which old friends? PC: Who has returned for the Exalted Council? Giselle: Your dwarven friend, Master Tethras, for one. I understand he spent much of the last few years in Kirkwall

If Blackwall was recruited Giselle: I believe Ser Blackwall has returned as well… although he now uses the name Thom Rainier.

If have not asked about the Tevinter ambassador Giselle: And of course, there is the Tevinter ambassador.

Giselle: Enjoy time with them while you can, Your Worship. I doubt you will have the chance once the Exalted Council is underway. [back to 24]

24 - Investigate: The Tevinter ambassador? PC: The Imperium sent an ambassador?

Giselle (Dorian has hostile approval and returned to Tevinter/left the Inquisition): Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus, the mage who briefly assisted the Inquisition, has returned. Giselle (Dorian has positive approval and returned to Tevinter): Yes, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has taken the chance to return from Tevinter. Giselle (Dorian was convinced to stay in the South): In a manner of speaking, Your Worship. Dorian Pavus has been declared the Tevinter ambassador.

Giselle: It will be good to see him again. I owe him my apology.

Giselle (Dorian romanced): I allowed my distrust of Tevinter to cloud my judgment. I am glad you saw more clearly than I did. Giselle (Dorian’s personal quest completed): I allowed his father’s words to sway me into lying to him. He deserved better treatment. Giselle (Dorian not romanced): I allowed my distrust of Tevinter to cloud my judgment. He took a great risk coming to help us, and deserved better treatment.

PC: You’re going to apologize? To Dorian?

Giselle: I have little patience for those who cannot admit they were wrong, Your Worship. Myself included. I will have to make my apology somewhere public. He will want an audience for his reaction. [back to 24]

25 - General: Goodbye. PC: Thank you, Mother Giselle. Giselle: Your Worship, a final question, if I may. This Exalted Council… Ferelden would have the Inquisition disband. Orlais sees its power as another feather in a chevalier’s helmet. What do you wish to do with the Inquisition?

Dialogue options:

Special (If asked about the original Inquisition at Haven/Skyhold): You would disband, I agree. [26]

General: We’re not going anywhere. [27]

General: Our work is done. [28]

26 - Special: You would disband, I agree. PC: You once told me about the first Inquisition that took place eight hundred years ago. You said that when their battle was over, that Inquisition’s soldiers sheathed their swords and went home. If our battle is truly over… perhaps it’s time for us to do the same. Giselle: Thank you. [29]

27 - General: We’re not going anywhere. PC: The Inquisition still has work to do. We can’t let someone’s fear push us into disbanding. Giselle: Then I wish you luck in the negotiations to come. [29]

28 - General: Our work is done. PC: Corypheus is dead. We accomplished what we set out to do. If we’re not needed any longer, and if it can be done peacefully, it may be time for the Inquisition to disband. Giselle: Thank you. [29]

29 - Scene continues.

Giselle: Maker watch over you, Inquisitor. I will not keep you any longer.

Next: Arl Tegan

[demigoddessqueens]

Hello, i was wondering if I could request something with dragon age with Solas, Cullen, Cassandra, Varric, Josephine, Vivianne, leliana, and Cole.

Where their S/O is a human mage with extraordinary powers. But in truth, they're actually a high ranking angel in disguise. Who came down from the heavens to help, despite being told to not involve themselves in Thedas's affairs as the mortals can solve this on their own.

I��d imagine they’re in for a shock

Solas - he knows a thing about hiding an identity. Still, he praises your skill and beauty and takes this more as sign to persuade you to his side

Cullen - feeling everything all at once, and still trying to wrap his head around it. But he admires the aspects of you that he fell for, only enhanced by your revelation

Cassandra - at first she’s like “why didn’t you tell me??”, but she also realizes how your duty and responsibilities have overlapped. Still, she’s amazed by you

Varric - well this is another thing he’s adding to his book! In more ways than one, he likes to boast and tease that he’s favored by the divine(s)

Josephine - feels a bit light-headed, and as you catch her, she’s still swooning a bit.

Vivienne - honestly, she’s more reassured of her position(s) and her goals for the future

Leliana - all these years, and things still amaze her. Feels seen, reassured, love, every loving emotion heightened when near you

Cole - oh sweet precious Cole! Has the biggest, wide-eyed stare at you in awe and amazement!

[fereldanwench]

I'm not entirely sure how much of DAI I'll end up replaying--I'm definitely not doing all the side quests, but I do kinda wanna do the DLCs since I totally slept on The Descent and haven't played the other ones since their release. But until I finish the game or get bored with it, I wanted to do slightly more structured rambling about Valerie in Thedas.

First things first: Yes, Goro also exists in this AU. How? Not sure yet, haha. Story-wise, I immediately envisioned him being a bodyguard for a Tevinter magister, but I'm still musing a lot on the specifics. Pretty-picture-wise, I might attempt to create him in DAI's CC. But that's a big might. I don't have a lot of confidence I could do him justice. I think looking into porting some of DAI's assets to Cyberpunk would probably be the "easier" method, but that's not something I'm interested in pursuing just yet.

Valerie's in-game build is a human archer. I was torn between archer and mage--In her canon, she's guns and netrunning, but more on the guns side so I went with archer. (Also, I just like playing as an archer. Old-time mutuals might remember that's what my canon Inquisitor was, too.)

Her face tattoos were an effort to find something to sort of mimic her cyberware, and of all the options, these were the closest. I was originally going to try it with scars instead, but I lost my first attempt at making her because the scars can crash the Enhanced Character Creation mod, and I didn't want to tempt fate again.

Although I'm obviously playing her as the Inquisitor in this, I don't actually want her to be a big damn hero in Thedas. I kind of like the idea of her being from a disgraced merchant family from the Free Marches who ends up doing fantasy merc work that eventually brings her to Tevinter.

I'm still very much trying to suss out where she'd be politically and religiously. She's been denying that she's the Herald of Andraste, which feels right to me, but I can't decide if she'd believe in the Maker or not. I generally tend to assume the average Southern Thedosian probably doesn't challenge that belief too much, but she might not be average in that regard. To be decided.

I don't have Cole or Dorian yet, but Valerie's quick first impressions of the advisors and companions so far: Leliana: The single most terrifying person Valerie has ever met (potentially across all universes, lmao) Josephine: The only responsible, reasonable adult in the room Cullen: Just because he's a good fighter doesn't mean she can't tell he's a total dork Cassandra: Brash and headstrong, but in a way Valerie very much likes; not too keen on the Herald shit, though Varric: Affable and clever, but senses a whiny streak that might get on her nerves Solas: Arrogant and condescending, has to begrudgingly accept his expertise Blackwall: His beard is so big because it's full of secrets, and those secrets are not about the Grey Wardens Sera: A little over-the-top, but in an endearing way (for the moment) Vivienne: Pompous and powerful, definitely not someone to piss off Iron Bull: Almost suspiciously honest, but she admires the bond between him and the Chargers

[edgessunflower]

Maker's breath

Pairing: Leliana x Fem reader

Description: You and Leliana fall in love with each other at first sight

Things felt different as you walked behind Alistair and Morrigan meeting Shale, Wynne, Zevran, Sten, and finally Leliana. You felt a true sense of companionship and family amongst the group as you meet each of them but something felt completely different as you lock eyes with leliana as you walk stopping a few inches in front of her as everyone else paid no attention but zevran did notice how you both looked at each other as you met everyone else, you both couldn't help but look at each other after talking and as time went on of you being in the group as a healer and warrior which she truly admired about you that not only you took time to care for sick people and healed the injured but also that you put your life on the line for others who couldn't fight for themselves making her fall for you much faster, you fell for her more seeing just how honest and sweet she was not just to you and the party of your friends but also to strangers and people you met even when some were rude to her she was still nice unless they kept being rude to her or were rude to any one in the party especially you even grabbing and throwing a drink in the face of a man who had grabbed and pulled your hair trying to grab amd take you to the alley outside which disgusted a lot of people in the bar especially herself and your shared friends who did teach him lesson later on when they ran into him the next day. Leliana feels her breath in her throat as she sees you in a beautiful lavender dress that complimented your body and brought out your facial features especially your eyes that were filled with so much emotion, kindness, and unconditional honesty which made her heart swell when she got the chance to look into them, "Maker's breath I am in love" you follow her as she walks to catch a breath grabbing and kissing her sweetly making you both melt in each other's embrace swept up in the tender moment only pulling away for air before bursting into quiet laughter and holding each other with your foreheads lightly connected with big smiles before walking back to camp hand in hand.

[spainkitty]

WIP Whenever

Thanks to @greypetrel tagging me. I don't do art unfortunately, and I'm in the middle of travelling, so here's a "literally in the middle of and out of context" scene that I've been trying to finish on my phone notes app🤣 I figure you'd like the Dorian and Lanil interaction since we both hc the Dorian & f!Inky relationship nearly the same way 🥰

FOR IT IS FLEETING AU Chapter?? I think 6?

"We don't have time to argue who's made worse mistakes and who has less fault. I'm leaving for Therinfal Redoubt within the hour and hopefully I'll get there before this Elder One steals the templars out from under me, too. No one here wants that future to happen, do we?" Adaar said firmly. There was a series of denials around the table. "Then, I need at least one these factions to get to Haven to help me close the Breach. I'm sorry, Surana, that it can't be the mages, but they're beyond our reach now. I need the templars and you know it."

Lanil inhaled and exhaled roughly. "I know."

"Speaking of 'beyond our reach'," Dorian said smoothly, "I may be able to do something about that. At the very least, I intend to try."

"Explain yourself, Tevinter, and try to be a little less vague," the Seeker said.

"No one appreciates dramatic flair in this muddy country. Anyhow, despite the utter failure we've had so far tracking the Venatori, I still have some resources and leads that may yet bear fruit. If Felix survived the fight in Redcliffe, and I'm positive he did, he might have sent messages for me in a few locations. There is a chance, however minute, that I can find the Venatori's trail..."

"And the free mages with them," Lanil finished for him, eyes lighting up. Dorian smiled at her. "I'll come with you. If there's the smallest chance we can find Fiona, I have to come."

"Oh dear," Sister Leliana said, pressing her fingertips to her lips. "Do you think that's wise, Enchanter Surana?"

Lanil stared at her in confusion. Until Dorian recaptured her attention. He cupped her face in both his hands, gentle and soft, eyes glittering with a suspicious amount of mirth.

"My darling Lane," Dorian began. Lanil squinted warily up at him, some of her initial excitement abating. "I say this with all due respect and admiration for your numerous charms," Lanil snorted. Somewhere off to the side, Adaar laughed. "You are as subtle as a gurn and as quiet. You should never try to be a spy."

Lanil glowered as her ears overheated. Even her cheeks had begun to burn. "You can stop touching my face now. I get it. I'll stay here."

"Fantastic, darling, I knew you'd see it my way," Dorian said, patting her head like a dog. She obliged him by growling like a mabari and making him chuckle.

.

tagging: @sillyliterature @ketolic and anyone who wants to do the thing! For any fandom!

[redlyriumidol]

currently writing a very self-indulgent scene where Hawke interacts with some of the dai companions at skyhold, so here's my thoughts on how she'd get along with all of them: (very purple hawke, to the point of extreme insensitivity at times, kind of selfish. she's not the nicest. I love slightly amoral protagonists okay)

Blackwall: Blackwall wouldn't like her. He'd think she was extremely stuck-up. (and she is). Hawke, for her part, would find him dull and beneath her concern. Manly beardy man. Who cares.

Cassandra: Cassandra obv has a bad case of hero-worship when it comes to Hawke, but I think the reality of her would be somewhat of a rude awakening- only somewhat, though, because Hawke would actually kind of like Cassandra. That manifests as teasing but slightly more generous than it would be towards a man (like Blackwall)

Cole: Cole likes almost everyone and he'd see through her use of humour as a self-defence mechanism in an instant. He sees that deep down, she does care. This would make Hawke uncomfortable, and she would avoid him.

Cullen: LOL. Hawke would have a grand old time making fun of him, just like old times. But in a subtle way where Cullen would not understand he was being made fun of. Deep down, she's kind of pleased to see him though, and especially to see he's left the Templars.

Dorian: They'd get along decently, though Dorian might see her as unnecessarily mean at times. Still, he's good at taking that sort of thing in stride. Hawke would like him quite a bit.

Iron Bull: ooh they'd get along for sure. Hawke would be fascinated by this oddity among Qunari, Bull would have mad respect for her for defeating the Arishok. Any barb she could fire just bounces off him, which is something Hawke REALLY likes. Great fun.

Josephine: first of all Hawke would be attracted to her so she'd just be flirty. Josephine would be nonplussed but feel positively towards her.

Leliana: Hawke would not DARE make fun of Leliana. She would be uncharacteristically respectful. Leliana would be shrug emoji but civil.

Sera: major lesbian rivalry! But in a way they'd sort of get on. Hawke would find her hilarious but also kind of look down on her; Sera would find her hilarious but also kind of think she's stuck up. Which, again, she is.

Solas: Hawke would wtf and be like nope, not touching that one. Solas wouldn't like her, she's too disrespectful about... everything

Varric: obviously, Varric adores her and she adores Varric. They're best mates and Varric is totally blind to her flaws lol

Vivienne: god this would be a shitshow. Vivienne is predisposed to hate Hawke for her role in the mage uprising and her defence of Anders. Hawke honestly would kind of fancy her bc she loves a challenge and try to subtly tease her- unlike Cullen, though, Vivienne is savvy enough to know what Hawke's doing and it wouldn't amuse her one bit.

BONUS my Inquisitor: Finian would admire her, though perhaps he should not. Given his position Hawke is fairly respectful towards him- she likes him though and Approves of him as a friend for Varric. Their senses of humour mesh well; Finian is very laid-back so he can take a bit of teasing.

[persephoneggsy]

13 and 24 for Marian/Sebastian, 6 and 23 for Hildegard/Cullen, please!

Sebastian + Marian

13. How do they express love for each other? Do they have compatible love languages?

Sebastian's very much a verbal affirmation kind of guy. He loves to just hold Marian close and wax poetic about how much he adores her. She likes to tease that he should be a romance writer and put Varric out of business. Except not really, because his sappy words are for her and her alone.

Marian, on the other hand, enjoys simply being with him. Even if they're just taking a walk together, or relaxing by the fireplace, or doing work in the study, she just wants to be around him (and let him know that she's there for him, too). There's a degree of physical affection, too, if only because she knows the man is touch starved as hell. She likes letting him rest his head on her lap and combing her fingers through his hair.

24. How did they fall for each other?

For Marian, it was infatuation at first sight. Just look at Sebastian's introduction; can you blame her? A handsome, passionate young man swearing vengeance just like a character out of those romance tales she pretended to not like. Then they kept running into each other, and his relentless optimism and determination to be kind despite how shitty his lot in life was started to chip away at her cynical exterior. It finally set it for her when he revealed that he lit a candle in the chantry for Bethany. He never met her sister, he had no reason to do it; he simply thought it was a kind thing to do. How could she not fall for that?

For Sebastian, I think he was similarly immediately intrigued by Marian, this mysterious mercenary who avenged his family's murders. She has such a cold, cruel reputation, and yet all he ever sees her do is help people. She could just as easily say no to everyone, and live the good life off the wealth she acquired in the Deep Roads, but she continues to go out into the world and make a difference, whether it was her intention or not, and he admires that. He falls much more slowly, but surely. It's not until he almost loses her to the Arishok that he realizes he can't live without her.

Hildegarde + Cullen

6. Do they have pet names for each other? Do they like them?

When in public, they refer to each other by their titles. In private, Cullen will either use just the shortened version of her name, "Hilde", or "Snowdrop". The latter came about due to Hildegarde's white hair, and the fact that she is just wild about snow (seriously, red lyrium aside, she loved Emprise du Lion). Later he looked up the flower symbolism for snowdrops -- new beginnings, hope, overcoming challenges -- and decided that yes, the name suited her perfectly.

Hildegarde was too shy to give Cullen a pet name at first, even when they began properly courting, but one afternoon as she was dozing off she called him "Löwe", or lion in German (whatever the Thedas version of German is). It sort of sounds like "lover" if you're not listening too hard, so that's what he assumed she meant until she told him its actual meaning much later.

23. What was their first impression of each other?

She actually didn't mind that he was a templar, or former templar; frankly, all she saw at first was yet another person who was trying to make order from the chaos, like Cassandra and Leliana. When they had their first proper conversation in Haven, she appreciated his straight-to-business approach and was grateful to have a competent military leader. And if she thought privately that he was rather handsome, well, that would be her business.

As for Cullen, he was a bit... concerned. Not necessarily because she was a mage, though that was a factor (to his own chagrin). She just seemed so... mousy. Timid. Insecure. How could such a woman be the Herald of Andraste? Then, at their first conversation, he learned that while she was terrified, she was still determined to help, and his respect for her grew.

[shivunin]

Adopting a mannerism the other has (gesturing, performing a task in a certain way) -- for your choice? 👀

So I had to hold this prompt up to each of my OCs to see who it fit best haha. After writing about three paragraphs for each of them, deleting it all, and starting over, this is what I finally landed on. It's funny how mannerisms seem natural to write until you're trying to think of them specifically, isn't it?

Here's a bit of Elowen, and here is the link to the list :)

At Your Side

The nobleman found Elowen just after she passed the doorway to Herald’s Rest. 

She was exhausted—she always found the trip up the Frostbacks jarring, even on a gentle mount—but she stopped to listen anyway. The Inquisitor had come to learn that nobles liked to feel like they were Doing Something Important; more, they seemed to enjoy feeling like the Inquisitor herself was managing their problems. 

Oh, she assumed they knew that supply issues and such were not things she handled herself—they weren’t entirely oblivious, even when they seemed that way—but giving the appearance that she cared about their complaints usually saved her work later. If she weren’t so tired, really, she wouldn’t mind at all—but as it was, she was hyper-aware of her state of dishevelment, the clothing she’d slept in to make the ride in the morning faster, and the state of her teeth. She hadn’t even noticed that she was gripping the hilt of her spirit blade until the nobleman—lesser, one with holdings in Emprise, if she remembered correctly—stopped talking to stare down at it.

“I am certain our people will look into it promptly,” Lavellan assured him when his words trailed off after the second glance at her hand, “Of course, the long-term supply issues represented by the state of next year’s harvest cannot entirely be solved by the Inquisition. However, I am confident that a plan to supplement the people’s access to safe food can be built soon. I will ensure that the right people know about this.”

“Yes,” the man said, looking down at her hand again, “I knew it was only a matter of bringing the right attention to the matter. I—forgive me; I see that you are needed elsewhere.”

Tired as she was, Elowen could only blink after the man as he hurried away. Leliana took his place quickly enough, an amused cant to her mouth. 

“I take it you have not made it to your quarters yet?” she asked, and Elowen exhaled in a rush. 

“No,” she said, “Thank you for the rescue. I can hardly see straight; I don’t even know what I just told that fellow.”

“Nothing terribly scandalous,” Leliana said, and tilted her head toward the stairs, “I was listening; do not trouble yourself with him. Even if you had, there are few who would listen.”

The two of them turned for the stairs to the great hall, and the nobles hovering along the aisles abruptly ducked away or turned their heads as Leliana came into view. Elowen admired how the other woman could do that—convey through some hidden alchemy of posture and facial expression that she was not to be disturbed. She wondered if it was something she could be taught, too, or if one needed Leliana’s reputation in order for the trick to work properly. 

“We have several reports regarding the projects undertaken before your trip,” Leliana went on as they walked toward the throne at the back, “But they will wait for you to bathe and rest.”

“My thanks,” Elowen said, scraping her short hair back and settling the tousled strands, “I don’t think I’d remember any of it in the morning if I went to the war room now.” 

They’d reached the door to her room, but Leliana did not immediately turn away. Her eyes had settled on Elowen’s hand, still wrapped around the hilt of her blade. 

“Something wrong?” Lavellan asked. 

The corner of Leliana’s mouth quirked slightly and she shook her head. 

“I do not think so,” she said, “Though I do believe our friend from Tevinter may owe me some coin.”

“What?” Elowen asked, but Leliana was already turning away, the ranks of nobility melting away before her like mist in the morning light. 

Even as puzzled as she was by the conversation, Elowen only looked after her for a moment before she pushed the door to her chambers open and gave herself privacy at last. 

It wasn’t until she locked the door to her bedroom behind her that she unwrapped her hand from the hilt and let herself relax.

[icharchivist]

How many of your DAI teammates know the Solas twist? How did they take it?

ooooh

so Cole knows right from the start and actually alludes to it a lot through the course of the game, but as Cole is always super cryptic you only really pick it up after you Know it.

but technically speaking every single companions learn the truth near the end of DAI -- or at least they learn, at the same time as the Inquisitor, that Solas "works for" Fen'Harel and is responsible for the things that went wrong in DAI. It's implied in the ending however that the Inquisition decides to reveal Solas' true identity to the world, so it means everyone should know.

As to how they react... we don't really see their direct reactions per se?

we see the reaction when we learn he is "an agent of Fen'Harel" but at that time you're dying so the reactions are a bit spread thin. I only ever bring Bull/Cole/Dorian as my main team in Trespasser, and the only real reactions i got from them were Dorian being worried sick you're dying and saying "let's just hope Solas can help, regardless of what this is all about", and Cole's "Solas is trying to help! He's not that kind of wolf! The Qunari don't see....".

So i don't really know how the rest of the companions react, though i'd kill for a proper, long reaction from Sera and Cassandra in particular.

in Veilguard therefore it's implied everyone should know about it.

of course, Varric is the one who reacts the most to it but i don't know if his opinions from ten years later are really anything compared to what should be the "well. shit." of discovering the truth.

Dorian is the only other companion that really comes back and since i nuked the Shadow Dragons early on (tee hee) i never got to discuss his relationship with Solas again.

So then it's kinda up to headcanons for me in a way?

But the logic is that everyone knows.

as for my hcs. well, it got long, so:

thank you for enabling me ;D

I think Leliana should feel the most betrayed. Not only Solas fooled her, and she didn't check his background throughfully enough, but he's literally responsible for the death of her mentor, whom she griefs the whole game. Solas literally was living just under Leliana's balcony for the full game (literally to learn all the ways she spies in order to evade her later), this would be so enraging. Leliana has a bit more understanding about elven culture than most of the humans in the game so perhaps she can rationalize it eventually, but honestly i think her friendship with the Inquisitor is the only thing stopping her from considering slicing his throat the next time she sees him.

I'm the most interested in Cassandra's reaction. She would feel so damn betrayed. Solas and her always had very philosophical conversations especially about the nature of faith and what being a good leader means. She would doubt anything Solas has ever told her about all of this and about her own strength. If she learns all the details we learn as well (re, that he created the Veil and stuff) it would definitely lead to a faith crisis for her because she believes so strongly in the Maker and the reality of how the Veil formed changes the way to approach this religion a lot. (i have more nuanced theories about the Maker, but, one of the thing he's said to have created is the Veil after all. I think realizing that would probably have Cassandra in crisis considering how many conversation she had asking Solas if he would believe in the Maker, and that one time Solas said "Your faith is admirable Seeker. I hope your Maker is worthy."). Maybe on the long run she'd accept it more, maybe her romantic streak could understand my Inquisitor at least, but i feel like she wouldn't properly have peace until she talked to Solas about it.

Sera is the second one that interests me the most because i can't exactly figure out how she'd feel but she would be the most interesting one. Sera is an elf who was raised outside of the two established type of elven culture in thedas, and as such was made to feel like an outcast to each of them. She has some implied affinity with magic that terrifies her and that are result of her elven heritage, which makes her rejects it even more. She hates Elven legends and believe they're all demons to start with. In Trespasser she grows a little more about it, healing from her personal trauma enough to not be as hostile, but even the things we learn about elven culture shakes her, and worries her if you happen to be an elf too. And she is extremely hostile to Solas most of the game because he tries so hard to have her connect to her elven heritage and she's pretty much all "i'm pissing on elven's graves." just to piss him off, so like. yaknow. I think she would be shaken by learning the truth and probably would have a huge denial going through it. She would refuse most of the knowledge they learn but freak out about the possibility of Solas having been a demon all along. But i think if someone reminds her she kept pranking Solas she would just constantly laugh because "HA. i did that. PISS OFF DEMON." or something like that.

Blackwall interests me personally because Solas mentions relating to Blackwall a lot in early banters, and after the twist about BW is revealed, while Solas is initially hostile, he's also one of the first ones to turn around and appreciate Blackwall's attempt at atoning, because "the healer has the bloodiest hands.". I feel like out of everyone BW would not specifically understand the details, but he would recognize a man who fucked up and is trying to ease his own mistakes. Like staring into a mirror and finally understanding the place Solas came from when he bonded with Blackwall.

Dorian would be so interesting because well. He does have an antagonistic relationship with Solas but i think it also kinda comes from a sort of respect? They discuss a lot about magical use, and those conversations would make Dorian uncomfortable when Solas would point out Dorian knows that because the Tevinter Imperium stole it from the elves. Solas also gets angry at him a lot for the fact that Dorian never examinated the fucked up implications of slavery in his homeland, and they have fights over that, but the books imply that those are those fights that changed Dorian's mind and made him return to become an abolitionist back home. So like... they bicker, they seem to hate each other, but i genuinely think it comes from a place of understanding and respect for Dorian. He's arrogant and Solas reflected that, but Dorian isn't above humbling himself and accepting he was wrong and do better. When we learn about Fen'Harel before learning it's Solas, Dorian is fascinated by the dude. The freedom fighter Dorian could identify with, a part of the ruling class who used his privilege to cause a massive rebellion to overthrow said class, something Dorian has been trying to do since he returned to Tevinter. So i believe Dorian would be so conflicted. Not being able to really reconcile the admiration he feels for Fen'Harel with the fact he's too proud to admit he respects Solas, in that sense? Eventually he'll come around, and Dorian is also someone who wants to find something positive about magic, about the past, something that isn't just doom and gloom, and i think this is something he'd want to talk with Solas about. Ideally i think Dorian would love to have a talk one to one with Solas and be pissed at him for lying like that (both about his knowledge AND about his fashion sense because "what do you mean you dressed like a hobo for years when you had three golden armors back home that served cunt???? what the hell is wrong with you???") but he would immediately want to bring the conversation to like. actually discussing the academics of magic and the politics of their specific situations. Idk i think Dorian would be fascinating more than the rest because more than feeling betrayed he would specifically just want to learn MORE and Solas is someone who did affect Dorian's worldview, even if Dorian only reluctantly admits it.

Vivienne is the next one i'd be curious about. I don't think she'd care much about elven religion or anything like that, and i know from hearsay that she thinks the elves were fools to even rely on magic when it could be taken away from them like it was when Fen'Harel created the Veil. But while her and Solas have extremely opposing views about magic, they took the time to listen to one another and they both recognized that at least their opinions came from carefully thinking about the situation from every angle. Vivienne often commented that magic is too dangerous to be left unsupervised, and Solas' whole thing is about leaving magic unsupervised, so she would call him a fool twice over for not considering how the world has changed. But one thing i'd be curious about even more so than the magic discussions are the political ones. Vivienne is highly ranked in Orlesian Politics and she comments on how she's surprised Solas managed to not embarass himself there, and Solas slips in others banters about how he was so comfortable because the powerful's display of powers rarely change from one culture to the other: he's lived those and he was already a pro at playing "Games" of nobility in a ballroom. Vivienne sneers at him because he pretends to just be some guy from a small village and there's no reason why he'd know how to navigate politics. I really would love to see a discussion between these two based on their mastery of politics and this type of situation. But overrall i think she would think him even more dangerous than she already did before. She is the one who clocked him after all in one banter by telling him that he "sounds like a Pride Demon" -- which, is, in fact, what Solas is. While the Inquisition team will have no way to learn Solas is specifically a spirit until way later, i think this definitely would add a layer to it. I'd kill for a conversation between those two post-reveal or Vivienne's opinions then. I can't exactly predict her but i know it would be the most fascinating read on a more social and magical aspect.

The rest of them... I don't know. Bull, Varric, Cullen and Josephine don't strike to me as people who would have strong opinions about the whole Solas' reveal outside of feeling betrayed.

Bull could have some interesting aspect because Solas was always arguing with him about how the Qun was inherently a form of slavery, and if you have Bull leave the Qun, Solas is the one helping him through it a lot. Bull is also terrified of demons and the Fade, and actually is pretty thankful learning there's a Veil, so i really do wonder how those could connect together in the way he reflects on Solas. Trespasser doesn't dwelve in it too much even when Bull is in the party because the enemies are a Qunari branch and therefore Bull comments more on that... But i think going through everything, learning that that Fen'Harel dude led a slave rebellion, then accidentally created the veil, and that the very person in question was his friend who would constantly discuss about the ethics of slavery to him and about how spirits aren't so scary? I think he wouldn't really know what to think. But Bull is observant and he noted a lot of things he found weird about Solas in banters, he just didn't know what to make of it. I feel like post-reveal Bull would be a lot of trying to sleep at night and suddenly remembering a detail he found off about Solas and grumbling about "oh for fuck's sake it was right under my FUCKING EYE--"

Cullen and Josie would probably both stop at feeling betrayed. They trusted Solas, both of them respected him a lot, Solas was one of the founding members of the Inquisition with them. He used to tell Josie all sort of stories from the Fade and she was so fascinated by it. I think both of them would be shocked to some extend but mostly on a personal level. Cullen could admire rising against slavery but probably would feel weird about the whole magic thing, and conclude rather that he's too tired for this shit and that it's all ridiculous. Josephone meanwhile would just feel so incredibly sad and look back on everything they've shared wondering if everything was a thinveiled manipulation. Both of them also would focus on the fact a lot of people died because of Solas' latest plan (and come to think of it i think Vivienne too would join them on that) and they'd be so angry and hurt about it. They focus more on the now than the implications on the long term.

Varric doesn't really care much for the past in general. The past is the past, history keeps us shackled, we have to keep moving ect... But Varric and Solas talked a lot about the fall of dwarven culture especially. It's not until late in Veilguard that we learn that this fall was Solas' fault especially, tho. But Solas was constantly asking about those things and being all full of gloom about how everything falls, how the universe will beat you up and then all you can do is give up and all. (they have a wonderful banter about it too) But one thing about Varric is that he still feels guilty for not realizing that Anders in da2 was reaching a breaking point, and this breaking point led to Anders looking for radical change by blowing up the Chantry and triggering the Mage rebellion. Varric never forgave himself for not seeing it coming nor doing anything to ease Anders' mind from stopping it. And he already feels responsible for the Mage Rebellion because the events that led to it were because of an expedition Varric was financing. So Varric is left basically with this guilt in general of "i should have seen it coming, i should have picked up all those details"... and the desire to not see another friend go up in flames in another sacrifice that will kill many people because he believes radical change is necessary. So like. Solas being Fen'Harel? Creating the Veil? Even being the creator of Everything Wrong? Those are the past. The reason it matters is that it indicates what fucksup Solas is going to do next. What worries Varric is that all of this informs him on the fact Solas is going to pull an Anders 2.0 in a much bigger scale and once again, he didn't see it coming. I think it's really personal for Varric of wanting to right the wrongs of HIS past by stopping Solas. Which is ironical when Solas is trying to right the wrongs of his past as well.

And so that's for all the companions without including Cole. Because as i said Cole knew from the start. Cole knew everything about Solas, even things we only learnt in Veilguard (which is why i have so many "theories confirmed" in veilguard purely out of "i reread everything Cole ever said a hundred time trying to make sense of it"). Cole is a spirit of compassion. He can read people's mind especially when they have strong emotions, and he's going to talk about them aloud. He called Solas quiet, reserved, "spirit self like me", "wise, but also, sorrow". Cole mentions in banters that "you didn't do it to be right, you did it to save them", and if you romance Solas Cole almost spills the specifics about how Solas locked in the Evanuris. But they were friends. Cole never revealed Solas' secret. He only mentioned Solas "wasn't that kind of wolf" because he was terrified for Solas' safety. Cole's reaction to learning the Veil isn't supposed to exist though... as a spirit he is overjoyed because it means he DOES belong with everyone. I think he doesn't blame Solas for it, he knows why Solas did it. But yeah.... Cole is Cole. His ending is about how he hoped to be able to reach out for Solas because he believed Solas needed him, and Veilguard's artbook shows that Cole was almost brought back to be this voice of compassion for Solas. but yeah Cole knew. obviously.

As to how the companions would react to the reveal especially if you romanced him? Well i know that one. They all disapprove if you still love him, except for Cole who greatly approves. I always interpret it more as a "girl no don't text him back!!" friendgroup reaction but i think they would feel so betrayed both for themselves AND on your behalf that they're all like. wtf. why are you giving him a chance inquisitor are you SURE?. While Cole, child of divorce, just thumbs up in the back.

..... so yeah that. i think that would be my HCs for the gang at least? I don't have enough imagination for a deep dive but man. I do wish we'd had seen some reactions in some way or another, even if i don't know how. Because i'd kill for Cassandra and Sera's reactions at least.

o7 many thoughts, thank you for enabling me.

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 7.5k

Part 44/54

Warning: Smut in this chapter. If you would like to skip, it starts at: "With a subtle shift of her body, she moved closer to Alistair, her thighs bracketing his hips." And ends at: "For a few moments, they stayed tangled together, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath."

"A cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars." - Richard Siken

Masterlist

The moon had only just begun to rise, casting a pale glow over the ravaged battlegrounds of Denerim. Gwen stood among her companions, their silhouettes like solemn statues against the horizon. The earth beneath their feet was scarred and churned from the ferocity of the battle they had just endured. But as the sun set, the clouds parting to reveal the stars, so too did it seem to chase away the darkness of fear that had gripped their hearts.

Alistair's voice, tinged with both relief and reproach, found her ears. "You know, you could've told me about your arrangement with Morrigan," he said, his tone struggling between jest and genuine frustration. "I might have liked to be in on the plan."

Gwen turned to him, her bandana shifting slightly as she offered a small, rueful smile. "And risk you trying to talk me out of it? I know how much you despise her," she replied, her voice low but carrying an edge of teasing.

His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he regarded her, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I suppose we'll never know now, will we?"

The tension between them dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an unspoken understanding. They were alive, they had triumphed, and for a moment, that was all that mattered. Laughter bubbled up from somewhere within the group, surprising in its lightness.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted from one of quiet reflection to boisterous celebration. City Folk emerged from hiding, their faces etched with lines of worry that slowly smoothed into expressions of joyous disbelief. Children ran through the streets, their laughter a melody long absent from the air.

"Look at them," Leliana murmured as they were approached by curious onlookers, her voice a soft note amidst the rising clatter. "They sing praises to their heroes."

Gwen glanced around, feeling the weight of countless eyes upon them. Words of gratitude and admiration were offered freely, hands reaching out to touch the hem of her cloak as if seeking a tangible connection to the miracle of their survival. She awkwardly sidestepped the gestures, discomfort knotting in her stomach. Her scars, hidden beneath clothing and the disfigurement beneath her bandana, seemed to burn with a fierce intensity, reminding her that she was not like them - that she would never be.

A lingering gaze from a grateful mother made Gwen's heart ache. "Thank you for saving us," the woman said. Gwen could only nod, feeling the woman’s faith as a burden rather than a blessing. "You... you are a hero," the woman added. The word felt heavy on her tongue, almost mocking in its intensity.

Yet as she watched her companions bask in the warmth of the people's love, Gwen felt a flicker of something akin to happiness. Alistair's laughter rang out, clear and genuine, as he swapped stories with those who had rushed immediately to the warrior’s side. His goatee bobbed with each chuckle, his sandy hair catching the moonlight in glints of light gold. She stayed off to the side, watching him fondly, letting him bring all the attention towards himself, just like she preferred it.

"Darcy! Darcy, over here!" A female voice called out suddenly over the crowd. Gwen glanced up to see a young elven woman with a shock of bright red hair waving frantically, her face alight with joy. Beside her stood an older elf, his face thin but his jaw was strong like Darcy’s, his eyes crinkling in a smile beneath a worn cap.

Darcy's head jerked around, relief washing over his features. "Father! Shianni!" he cried, rushing towards them with open arms and enveloping them in a tight hug that nearly had them all falling over into one big heap of limbs, Darcy's laughter muffled against their shoulders.

After a long moment, Darcy gently extracted himself from their arms and waved over Zevran, who had been watching the reunion from a short distance away. The normally cocky assassin approached slowly, an uncharacteristic nervousness in his steps. But Shianni's smile was warm and welcoming as she took Zevran's hand in her own. Darcy's father clapped him on the back like he was already part of the family.

Gwen observed the heartfelt reunion, Alistair coming to join her, having passed off his small crowd to where Leliana entertained them with what could only be an outlandish tale of their adventures. He nudged her playfully, a teasing lilt in his voice as he said, "Look at them getting all sentimental. Maybe we should join in with a group hug of our own, hm?"

She scoffed and shoved him lightly, but couldn't keep the smile from tugging at her lips. For now, they were all together and triumphant. The future could wait.

Amidst the smouldering ruins, a defiant cheer erupted as the dark of night draped itself over Ferelden. The jagged remnants of what once was a pub now served as an impromptu tavern for the victors. Men and women, their faces lit by the warm glow of a hastily assembled bonfire, passed around bottles salvaged from the wreckage. It was a celebration born from the ashes - bittersweet but necessary.

As the laughter echoed around her, Gwen felt a pang of guilt twist in her chest. How could they rejoice when so many had fallen? Each cheer was a reminder of the lives lost, and for a fleeting second, she wanted to retreat into the shadows, away from the revelry that felt painfully out of place.

Gwen watched from the fringes, her bandana firmly in place as the local musicians strung together a lively tune on damaged instruments. Her eyes shimmered with the fire's reflection, revealing a hint of longing beneath her haunted gaze. She had tried to kill her friends earlier that day, surely revelry was not in the cards for her. She clung to the shadows like an old friend, yet the pull of the music tugged at the corners of her stoic demeanour.

"Come, Gwen!" Leliana beckoned, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and mirth. “We must celebrate our victory and your newfound freedom!”

Gwen hesitated, her eyes darting around as guilt thrummed in her stomach. Sensing this, Leliana gave her her best understanding smile, injecting pure playfulness into her tone.

"Or do you wish for Sten to teach you? I hear he has a most interesting interpretation of a dance that involves simply standing there with crossed arms."

Gwen huffed a laugh, shaking her head, yet she could not rid herself of the knot in her chest, the weight of her actions pressing down on her shoulders. She could have killed them, she was so close… They'd lost so many, why should she live when they did not?

"I know it feels strange, Gwen," Leliana said softly as she pulled her friend aside. "I too have felt this bittersweet joy. We honour those we lost by living, by finding happiness in their memory - we must not forget what we fought for."

Gwen's lips curved into a reluctant smile, her guard lowering just enough to allow Leliana's infectious joy to slip through the cracks. With a grace that only someone trained in the bardic arts could achieve, Leliana twirled toward her, the red hair dancing like flames in the night air.

"Alright," Gwen relented, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. "But only because it's a special occasion. I will not be repeating this anytime soon."

"Then I will cherish this moment until the next," Leliana said with a laugh, taking Gwen's hand and pulling her toward the flickering light.

As they reached the heart of the celebration, a roaring bonfire made of broken carts and any other burnable materials greeted them.

Leliana took Gwen's hand and spun her around, leading her in an energetic dance around the flames. Gwen moved hesitantly at first, unused to such frivolity, but Leliana's enthusiasm was contagious. Soon Gwen was keeping pace, laughing freely as Leliana twirled her this way and that.

Gwen's eyes darted around the lively scene, taking in the joyful chaos. Wynne sat off to the side, humming along to the music with a contented smile on her face. Her wise eyes followed the dancers, and she gave Gwen an encouraging nod when their gazes met.

Not far from Wynne, Zevran entertained a group of starry-eyed City Folk with exaggerated tales of their adventures. He gestured wildly as he spoke, “And I, of course, was the most dashing rogue - fending off great beasts with a mere flick of my wrist!” Though his stories were peppered with good-natured jabs at his companions, his tone held nothing but affection.

On the other side of the fire, Alistair clapped along to the music, a broad grin on his face as he watched the two women dance. Sten stood stoically at his side, his arms crossed, though one could detect the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, the onlookers watching him with wary admiration.

Gwen's gaze finally landed on Darcy, who sat at the remains of the broken bar along with his cousin and father. He watched the celebration with a conflicted expression, one hand absently scratching behind Barkspawn's ears. Though he smiled when one of the children offered him a sweet bun, Gwen could see the shadows lingering in his eyes. Her heart ached for him, he had been through much, carried the weight of their journey, and now that it was over… He still was not free.

For now, the thrum of the music and Leliana's enthusiasm swept her back into the dance. She let the rhythm move through her, the hypnotic flames blurring together as she whirled and stomped along with the crowd. For the first time in recent memory, the ever-present weight on her shoulders lifted, if only for the night. She was just a girl dancing with her friend, allowing herself to feel joy.

As the music reached a crescendo, Gwen's heart raced, though this time not with excitement, but with the recollection of blood-soaked dirt and the screams of terror as she ran through the streets, not of her own mind. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of those memories crash over her like a cold wave, making it difficult to join in the joy around her.

"May I cut in?" Alistair's voice cut through her thoughts, the lively music, tinged with warmth and amusement. Leliana smirked mischievously, her eyes sparkling as she stepped back with a wink aimed at Gwen that she furtively ignored. The rogue let herself get swept up in the pull of dancers, quickly moving along to the beat.

"Only if you promise not to step on my toes," Gwen jested, the words lighter than air. “I hear from a reliable source that you are ‘made of left feet’.”

The first time she’d ever danced, that night after they’d slain the Witch of the Wilds, he’d insisted that he was a terrible dancer, but he’d been far better than her.

"My Lady," Alistair replied with mock solemnity, extending his hand. "I am nothing if not a gentleman, I would never dream of harm even a hair on your body."

Their hands met, and they settled into a rhythm, moving together amidst the throng of bodies. Alistair's presence was grounding, his touch gentle yet firm, guiding her through the steps of a new dance.

Suddenly the tempo slowed, the lively jigs giving way to a gentle sway. Alistair pulled Gwen close, one hand resting lightly on her waist while the other enveloped her own. She tensed at the unexpected intimacy but relaxed into his embrace as they began to move as one. His eyes locked onto hers, no longer holding their teasing glint but replaced with a tender reverence that caused her breath to catch. The space between them evaporated until only a hair's breadth remained, his warmth enveloping her, his woodsy scent filling her senses. Gwen's heart quickened, though whether from exhilaration or trepidation, she could not say. For a moment the world narrowed to just the two of them, turning together, lost in the gentle rhythm. She felt bare, exposed, yet paradoxically safe in the circle of his arms.

“I learned this one with the Chantry,” Alistair broke the silence that had settled between them. “Though when Sister Grace taught me there was significantly more space between us and much harsher reprimands should I take the wrong step.”

His lips curved into a lopsided grin that set Gwen’s heart aflame. Yet she managed to retain her composure. She huffed a dry laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t you know dancing close to a woman is a sin?”

Alistair shrugged, unbothered. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I’m sure the Maker will forgive me for this particular transgression.”

Gwen smiled, feeling herself relax even more in his arms. They continued to sway to the slow rhythm of the music, lost in their own little bubble within the pub.

As they danced, Gwen found herself studying Alistair’s face intently. She noticed how his lips were slightly chapped, a faint smattering of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks - mixed with some small scratches from their recent battle - and the rosy tint to his skin from both exertion and… something else that had her stomach swooping low in her gut.

As the tune wound down and the applause rose, Gwen felt Alistair's fingers tighten around hers. With a conspiratorial glance, he led her away from the crowd, their steps quickening as they sought refuge in the quiet of the night. They ran through the rubble-strewn streets, laughter tickling at their throats, until they found themselves at a small Chantry building, its doors hanging askew and a large section of the roof having fallen to the side, leaving a good portion open to the sky.

"Here," Alistair murmured, pushing open what remained of the heavy wooden door. "We can be alone."

The coolness of the stone interior enveloped them, a stark contrast to the heat of the bonfire. They stood there for a moment, side by side, allowing the significance of their survival to wash over them in the hallowed silence.

"Thank you," Gwen whispered, her voice barely audible as she pulled her bandana down to rest around her neck. "For everything."

Without warning, Alistair pulled Gwen towards him by the wrist. His fingers tangled in her hair, gripping it possessively as he sought her lips with an intense hunger. The collision of their mouths was almost violent, as if to affirm that they were alive, together, against all odds. His kiss was warm and urgent, his arms encircling her waist with a fierce protectiveness. Gwen's heart swelled as she melted into him, her fingers digging into the back of his neck to bring him closer. She could feel the hard planes of his body pressed against hers, every inch of his form radiating heat and desire as he pushed her back against the cold stone wall. A shiver ran down her spine as his muscular thigh slid between hers, adding pressure to her already aching core.

A soft gasp, laden with longing and desire, escaped her parted lips as Alistair's warm hand touched the small of her back, heat pooling low in her belly. Alistair took advantage, deepening the kiss as his tongue flicked along hers. She arched into him, hands roaming across the broad expanse of his frustrating still still-clothed shoulders.

They broke apart, both breathing heavily, her senses heightened by his touch. Alistair’s eyes were dark with desire, his pupils blown wide like a predatory ready to pounce. Gwen knew she must look much the same, her heart a drumbeat echoing off the chapel's cold walls.

The moonlight spilled through shattered stained glass windows, casting an otherworldly glow upon their entwined figures. The colours danced and flickered across their faces - reds and blues blending together in a fiery display. Gwen's gaze drifted nervously towards the doors of the chapel, her mind racing with thoughts of what could happen if someone were to find them in this forbidden moment.

"Someone could come," she fretted, her voice low.

Alistair followed her gaze, his eyes alight with a spark that seemed to chase away the darkness. "They won't," he assured her, his voice sure and confident, soothing her unease.

As he slowly parted from her, she let out a stifled whine of need, feeling as though she might float away without his solid weight anchoring her to the ground. She looked up at the hole in the ceiling, imagining herself slipping through it like a ghostly apparition. With deliberate movements, he heaved a chunk of broken masonry in front of the damaged doorway. The sound of it settling into place was like a heavy sigh, a finality that signalled the end of any easy entry. No one would be able to push their way through that barrier now.

"See? Now we have all the privacy we need."

Gwen watched him, the tightness in her chest easing. He turned back to her with that lopsided grin, the one that always stirred something warm within her despite the chill of the stone beneath her feet.

“How are we supposed to get out?” Gwen pursed her lips to hold back a laugh at the ridiculousness of their situation.

Alistair tilted his head to the side as if giving her question serious thought. “Well, I suppose we'll just have to stay here forever. Sorry, Ferelden, you’ll have to find a new ruler, the one you were given is stuck in a Chantry with a gorgeous woman. A terrible fate, but unavoidable.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. "I highly doubt anyone would believe that excuse."

Alistair's grin widened. "Probably not, but it's worth a shot."

Laughter bubbled up from Gwen's throat, genuine and free, a sound she had thought herself incapable of making, but had been proven wrong time and time again in Alistair’s presence. It was met by Alistair's own hearty chuckle as he extended his hand towards her, an invitation she couldn't refuse.

Their fingers interlaced, and she let him draw her close. His lips found hers, soft and seeking, and she responded with a hunger born from the knowledge that they had cheated death together. She was finally free of the Calling, the noise in her head silent for the first time in half a year. It was freeing, a burden finally released, one she hadn’t been sure she would survive.

His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close as his calloused hands slid under her tunic. Alistair's touch was gentle, reverent. His hands traced the scape of scar tissue across her back as if reading the story of her survival etched in her skin. It would never cease to astound her how easily he touched her, like she deserved such tenderness, like she wasn’t about to abandon him.

He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. "When I saw you at Fort Drakon I thought… I was so afraid that I had lost you," he whispered hoarsely.

Gwen's throat tightened at the raw terror in his voice. She ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt at a soothing motion. "I'm here," she whispered back.

For a single, precious moment, they stood there in each other's arms, grateful to be alive and together. Alistair's strong embrace enveloped her like a protective shield, as if he could keep all the dangers of the world at bay. But as they gazed into each other's eyes, a mischievous glint sparked in Alistair's gaze.

"So… do you have any plans for what we should do while we're stuck in here?" he asked playfully.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you really want to know my thoughts on that?"

Alistair's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Oh yes," he declared with a mischievous glint.

"Well, since we're here anyway, I suggest we make the best of it," she said with a sly smile.

Alistair's eyes lit up at her words. "I like the sound of that," he replied, his voice low and hoarse.

Giving her no time to fight him, he swooped down and effortlessly scooped her up into his arms, eliciting a surprised yelp from her that quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles. He carried her over to one of the few pews that were still standing, their creaking wood adding to the quaint charm of the old church. With gentle care, he settled down with her straddling his lap.

Gwen couldn't hold back her laughter as Alistair nuzzled his nose against her neck, sending ticklish shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and let out a contented sigh, leaning against his chest. She looped her arms loosely around his neck, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "My noble warrior come to sweep me off my feet," she teased, though her voice held a note of sincerity.

Alistair's face softened. "I'll always protect you, my lady." He tucked a strand of moon-pale hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering on her cheek.

Gwen leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. Here, cocooned in his strong embrace, the ever-present weight on her shoulders lifted just a little. She could almost forget about the taint in her blood, the looming threat it posed on her life. Almost believe they had a future together.

She couldn’t tell him that that was part of the problem, that she knew he would lay down his life to keep her safe - even if she didn’t understand it. She couldn’t let him do that, couldn’t live with herself should that ever come to pass.

With a subtle shift of her body, she moved closer to Alistair, her thighs bracketing his hips. Her fingers traced the lines of his jaw and cheeks before finally resting on his lips, pulling him into a soft but eager kiss. His hands wandered over her curves, mapping out every inch of her body with a feverish need.

A breathy whine escaped Gwen's lips as Alistair's hands travelled down her back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She pressed herself against him, wanting more. With nimble fingers, she undid the laces of his shirt - his armour long since discarded after battle -revealing the muscular yet rounded body that she loved with her entire heart.

Alistair's mouth trailed hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck, sending shivers down her spine. She gasped as he nibbled on her earlobe, each touch igniting a fiery desire within her. As his teeth grazed the sensitive junction where her neck met her shoulder, she couldn’t suppress a low, raspy moan. Alistair hummed his approval and she could feel every nerve ending in her body come alive under his touch.

"Are you sure you want to do this here?" she murmured as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head. This was holy ground, there had to be something in the Chant that forbade such illicit activities. Would the Maker strike them down for this violation?

Alistair pulled back just far enough to meet her gaze, his eyes darkened with lust. "I want you, Gwen," he said huskily. "Right here, right now. What better place than a holy Chantry to worship the woman I love?"

Gwen laughed, a throaty sound that made Alistair's pulse race. "You're incorrigible," she said, grabbing his open shirt and pulling him back to her.

With practiced movements, Alistair's hands glided over her body, gently pulling the fabric of her tunic up and over her head. She returned the gesture, eagerly pushing the open sides of his shirt away until it slipped from his broad shoulders.

Piece by piece, they shed the layers between them, revealing scarred skin and defined muscle underneath. Their breaths mingled in the air as they sat, only clothed in their vulnerability and desire for one another. Alistair tenderly cradled her face in his large hands, his intense gaze filled with adoration and longing.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," Alistair said, his voice thick and pulling at her heartstrings. "After everything we've faced, all the battles and the horrors, having you by my side has made it all worthwhile."

He stroked her cheek tenderly with his sword-roughened fingers. "Before I met you I was so lost, but you showed me I could be more than just a bastard prince no one wanted."

Gwen started to speak, wanting to argue, but Alistair gently pressed his thumb against her lips, stopping her.

"I wish you could see yourself as I see you, Gwen. Fierce, compassionate, stronger than any of us. And so, so beautiful. I could say it a thousand times and I would never mean it any less." His eyes roamed her disfigured face and scarred body, soft and patient, making tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "I want to spend every day of my life showing you how cherished you are."

Gwen blinked back the tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. She kissed him tenderly, letting her body speak for her - the press of her fingertips over his heart, the brush of her thighs against his hips, the heat of her desire kindling his own. She could not lie to him, to tell him she would be by his side as he wished, but she could give him this moment of release, of love and hope. It was so much less than he deserved, yet all she had to give.

His hands moved down her throat, sending sparks across her skin as he trailed feather-light touches down her chest until he cupped her aching breasts. Gwen sighed into the kiss, arching into his touch. His fingers teased her nipples to stiff peaks, eliciting soft moans from deep within her throat.

“I just need—” he cut himself off with a low groan as she ground her hips against him. “I need to feel you, to know you’re here, that we both survived. That this isn’t a dream.”

With another roll of her hips that pulled a stuttering moan from his gorgeous mouth, she leaned close, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You have me,” she whispered, “all of me.”

Gwen gasped as Alistair's fingers slid between her thighs, teasing at the sensitive flesh there. She rocked against his touch, her body already slick with desire. With a growl low in his throat, Alistair pressed closer to her with a hand on her lower back, his breath hot against her skin.

"I want you," he murmured against her neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh there. "I need you."

"Please," she begged, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed herself closer to him. Alistair's lips found hers once again, devouring her with need and urgency. Gwen could feel the heat of Alistair's arousal pressing against her thigh, and it only made her want him more.

He broke the kiss and began to trail hot kisses down her neck, continuing until his lips met the curve of her breast. He took one nipple between his teeth while his hand kneaded the other, making her moan echo off the stone walls around them. His other hand reached around to grip her backside, pulling her closer to him.

His actions were both gentle and passionate - worshipping every inch of her body as if she were a goddess.

His gaze lifted to meet hers, eyes shining with a primal desire that sent chills across Gwen’s skin. But beyond the raw lust, she saw an intense love burning within him, one that made her heart leap into her throat. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful and perfect being in existence, seeing past all of her insecurities and scars and loving every piece of who she was.

“Please, Alistair,” Gwen breathed as she squirmed in his lap, feeling his hardness against her folds as she canted her hips against him. But it wasn’t enough, she wanted him closer still. “I need you.”

Alistair’s lips parted, his eyes glazed over with carnality. His hands trailed down her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.

“Where do you want me, my Lady?” he asked with a playful grin, pulling his finger back to tease her hips, inches away from where she craved him.

A growl formed low in her throat, needy and frustrated. If he wanted to play games then she would simply have to indulge.

Gwen moved her hips, her knees on the creaky pew offering the perfect perch to push herself up and down his length, his reddened tip catching against her clit, the friction and pressure leaving both of them trembling. His hands gripped her hips in an almost bruising grip, but he did not stop her as she repeated the movement, his head dropping to rest against her collarbone.

“Gwen,” her name fell from his lips, a prayer meant only for her. She sped up her pace, pulling a groan from deep within his chest.

But it wasn't enough for either of them. They both needed more.

“I need you inside me,” Gwen begged, her voice raspy, barely above a whisper.

His strong hands slid down to cup her backside, lifting her up as he positioned himself at her entrance. She whined with aching desire, arching into him as he gave her a teasing nip at the curve of her collarbone. Her body throbbed with impatience and need, and he couldn't resist any longer. With one swift motion, he pulled her down onto his throbbing cock, filling her completely and sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Gwen's breath hitched in her throat as he filled her to the hilt, the sensations almost overwhelming. Alistair's hands held her steady at her hips his touch both grounding and electrifying as she acclimated to his size. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders for support. He peppered soft kisses along her jawline and down her neck, soothing her with every sweet touch.

"You're… incredible, love," he murmured against her neck, his hips rolling up to meet hers in a slow and steady rhythm. Gwen couldn't help but whimper at the sensation, her body responding eagerly to his every movement.

His fingers dug into her hips as she moved against him, his breath fanning across her neck. She could feel the tension building in both of them, the need for release coursing through their veins.

Gwen's head fell back as she rode him, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to the pleasure. Alistair's hands moved from her hips to her thighs, guiding her movements and setting a rhythm that had them both gasping for air. Every thrust sent jolts of electricity through Gwen's body, the feel of him stretching her more than she could handle.

Their pace quickened as they both reached the edge of ecstasy, their movements becoming more urgent and frenzied - less organized as they chased release. Alistair's fingers found their way between them once more, adding another layer of pleasure as he circled Gwen's sensitive clit.

With a cry of his name on her lips, Gwen shattered into a million pieces, her body shaking as she curled into him, holding herself back from sinking her teeth into his shoulder. Alistair followed soon after, his own release tearing through him like a wildfire. He let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering against hers as he spilled himself inside her.

For a few moments, they stayed tangled together, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Alistair's arms wrapped tightly around Gwen, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. Gwen snuggled into Alistair's chest, feeling completely content and fulfilled in his arms.

"I love you," she whispered softly against his skin.

Alistair kissed the top of her head and held her close. "And I love you," he replied tenderly. "Always and forever."

Under the watchful gaze of the moon, Gwen allowed herself to believe in the possibility of a life unfettered by fear. And as she clung to Alistair, the man who held her entire heart in his hands, she thought that perhaps, just perhaps, they could carve out a piece of happiness in this fractured world, even if only for tonight.

Golden sunlight filtered through the fragmented, stained-glass windows, scattering a kaleidoscope of colours across the stone floor. In the warmth of the morning light, Gwen stirred, consciousness creeping back into her sore limbs. Alistair, still deep in sleep, held her tightly in his arms, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that had lulled her into peaceful rest the night before. And, she was startled to realize, he was still inside of her, hard from both the morning, and the small movements she’d made as she’d awoken.

She couldn't resist stealing a moment to watch Alistair sleep, his face softened by repose. In this peaceful state, he seemed free from the weight of his crown and the responsibilities of ruling a kingdom. She traced her fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, savouring the feel of his skin against hers just as she had the first time she’d held his face in her hands.

And when he woke, the corners of his mouth curved into a lopsided grin as he realized their current predicament. Without hesitation, he lowered her onto the pew and claimed her once again, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Perhaps it happened more than once, but that was their secret to keep between them and the Maker above.

As the last remnants of their shared solace were swallowed by the rising sun, Gwen's heart clenched with a panic that suffocated her. The echoes of victory that had rung through the night now seemed distant and faint, muffled by the weight of dread that settled over her like a heavy blanket. How could she possibly leave him? The thought tore at her insides like sharp claws, leaving her feeling hollow and empty. Her heart raged against the decision she knew she had to make, beating at her ribcage like the bars of a jail cell.

Time passed with the languidness of honey, the week stretching out like a painting frayed at the edges. Alistair was constantly summoned, torn away by the demands of leadership and the unrelenting march toward his upcoming coronation. Gwen would steal moments where she could, her presence a quiet shadow in the periphery of his new life. Each parting was a fresh wound, one that refused to heal as the next obligation called for his attention.

Gwen had heard the whispers muttered as she slunk through hidden halls, avoiding the suspicious glares and hushed tones discussing the "beast" who was corrupting their soon-to-be king. Soldiers had seen her on the battlefield, feral as she tore Darkspawn apart with her teeth, magically leashed until she’d broken away.

"The Darkspawn woman..." They would whisper, their voices barely concealing their fear and disdain. "She's a monster, I tell you."

"They say he's bewitched," another said in conspiratorial tones. "Our poor king, led astray by that wicked creature."

Not just a monster, but a temptress, an evil seductress. She had heard these allegations too, that she had used blood magic or trickery to secure Alistair's affections.

As if he were some ignorant, helpless lamb. As if the bond they shared was not real. She longed to shout, to scream the truth for all to hear. But it would only make things worse.

So Gwen endured in silence, bearing their scorn. She would not bring more trouble to Alistair's door. Not when doubt already plagued the man she loved.

For she had heard those whispers too. That Alistair was too uncertain, too unready for the throne. That he would lead Ferelden to ruin.

Though Alistair had accepted her, the people of Ferelden would not be so kind. To them, she was a monster, an unnatural creature who threatened their beloved hero who would unite and lead them.

Gwen felt the familiar shame and isolation creeping upon her. She had tried so hard to find belonging, to see herself as something more than the taint that flowed within her veins. But each suspicious glance and cutting rumour was a reminder that she did not deserve warmth or companionship. Perhaps she had been foolish to think she could escape her wretched origins.

Darcy observed them throughout the long week, his dark eyes clouded with guilt. He watched Gwen closely, observing the way she withdrew into herself, grasping onto the fading threads of their once-strong connection. He longed to intervene, to offer comfort and reassurance, but he remained silent, a spectator to the unravelling of their fragile peace. It was all his doing - his friend was about to ascend to the throne, and in doing so, would lose everything he had worked tirelessly for. A bitter taste filled Darcy's mouth as he thought of how his actions had led to this moment, even the sweet caress of his lover could not numb the ache in his heart.

Gwen made time in her week to thank Wynne. The mage had tirelessly made potions to help alleviate the sinister call of the Blight that had gnawed at Gwen's mind. Though she had initially been wary of accepting help, Gwen was moved by Wynne's kindness and tenacity in creating the potions. They granted her precious moments of clarity and focus, driving back the feverish dreams and intrusive whispers.

Without the relief of the potions, Gwen knew she would have succumbed to madness and darkness long ago. Wynne's steady wisdom and maternal care had been soothing to Gwen's ravaged soul throughout their travels. No matter how far Gwen retreated into herself, Wynne patiently remained, offering what comfort she could. There were no words to fully capture Gwen's gratitude, so she simply embraced the elder mage in a move so uncharacteristic of her that Wynne almost fell over in shock.

Wynne had seen her not as a monster, but as a wounded soul worthy of compassion. She had given Gwen the chance to reclaim parts of herself that she thought lost forever. She allowed her more time with the man she loved, and to Gwen, this act of grace was worth more than any material possession could ever repay.

As evening fell, Alistair would retire to the King's suite - a space too grand, too cold for the man she knew. Yet Gwen found her way to him every night, slipping through darkened halls illuminated by flickering torches. They would collapse into each other's embrace, exhaustion claiming their bodies but never dimming the spark that burned when they touched.

Their whispered conversations were a salve, words exchanged in the sanctuary of darkness. They spoke of everything and nothing, laughter mingling with confessions, their souls laid bare beneath the veil of night. But even in these stolen hours, the spectre of separation loomed, an unspoken truth that gnawed at the edges of their haven. Alistair knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask, fear and uncertainty stopping him in his tracks.

In the stillness that followed their quiet conversations, they would fall asleep, tangled together amidst the opulent trappings of royalty. Gwen's last thoughts always lingered on the morrow, on the reality that crept ever closer with each sunrise. Her time with Alistair was a borrowed treasure, one she'd have to return all too soon.

And so the days passed, each one a reminder of the life she could not have, the love she feared to claim.

Gwen slipped through the dimly lit corridor, her form a whisper against the stone. The heavy door to the King's suite loomed ahead, the promise of Alistair's comforting presence just beyond its reach. Her heart throbbed with sorrow, each beat a reminder of the last night they had left. Tomorrow was his coronation, tomorrow she would leave.

As she rounded the corner, a sudden, vice-like grip fastened around her arm, jerking her out of her thoughts like an electric shock. She turned sharply, her heart pounding with fear as she came face to face with Arl Eamon's sneering expression. A sharp pang shot through her body, almost as if his gaze could physically harm her. The dark intensity in his eyes chilled her to the bone, and she felt a surge of adrenaline in his presence.

"What are you doing here? Sneaking around like a thief?" Eamon's voice dripped with disdain. "Or should I just call you the beast you truly are?

"Let go," Gwen hissed, her voice sharp and low. She could feel the weight of his judgment, the way he saw her as nothing more than a blight upon Alistair's life.

"You put his life in peril," Eamon spat, tightening his grip. "Ferelden will never bow to a king bedazzled by such… monstrosity. You must realize the danger you pose to his future. What will Ferelden think when they see their king entangled with someone like you? It will only breed contempt."

Her snarl was feral, her slit cheeks flaring with barely contained fury beneath her bandana. "What we share…. it will not interfere with his rule. Not that it is of any concern to you.”

"Won't interfere?” Eamon's scoff stung like acid. "By the Maker, you stupid creature, just today he asked his advisors if there was a way he could marry you."

The word struck her like a physical blow, causing her to freeze in place. Marry her? The thought of Alistair saying those words made her heart flutter with warmth and at the same time filled her with a sense of dread. "What?" she gasped, feeling a surge of panic in her chest. "But that… that isn’t allowed.”

"Allowed?" Eamon's laugh was cruel, like a dagger to her stomach. "As if laws could contain the depraved lusts of your kind. "You’ve put a spell on him, haven’t you? Making him blind to the truth? I did not raise that boy to be a fool blinded by love! Your very nature may cost him everything - do you want that?

The fiery heat of anger boiled within Gwen, threatening to erupt from her pores. The hurtful words spewing from his mouth stung like a thousand needles piercing her skin. How dare he insult Alistair. The tension in the air was palpable as Gwen struggled to keep her composure, clenching her fists at her sides to contain her explosive rage.

"Mind your words," she growled, "or you may find yourself short a tongue."

Eamon faltered, but with a scrutinizing glare, he pressed on. "If Alistair falters as king, it won’t simply be his head on the chopping block. It will be the lives of countless innocents—and my family's legacy will crumble along with it."

Before she could offer any retort, he continued his rant. "And what of heirs? Could you birth anything but monsters? Even if you were to remain a mistress, you know as well as I that he would refuse to take a Queen who could complete such a task where you failed. He is too loyal for that."

The words struck deep. She couldn't bear any fruit, her body deemed unfit to carry life. With each passing day, she felt it draining the life out of her, slowly but surely.

"Of course not," Eamon said, his lips curling with malice. "If you truly care for Alistair, you will see that your presence is a liability. You should step aside for his sake! He is too naive to realize it for himself—"

Rage, swift and incandescent, overtook her. Gwen grabbed Eamon by the collar, pulling him close enough that she could see the fear in his eyes. "If I ever hear of you treating him like anything other than the amazing man, hero, and king that he is and soon will be, there is nowhere on this earth that you can hide where I will not find you. And you will not like it when I do. He deserves to have those with only his best interests at his side, those who care for him. If you are not willing to take up that role, then I will ensure that that decision is out of your hands."

Alarm flashed in Eamon's eyes, his hand fell away from her arm. "You're leaving him," he realized, a hint of triumph in his voice. “Perhaps you are smarter than I gave you credit for, you recognize the dangers you pose.”

Gwen's hands trembled with anger as she shoved the Arl away from her, his grip on her arm loosening. She refused to let this man poison the remaining time she had left with his toxic presence. Her icy resolve set in, and without a backward glance, she pushed past him, her determined footsteps echoing through the cold, desolate corridor. The walls seemed to close in on her, but she walked with purpose, her breaths coming out in short, determined puffs. The lingering echo of her threat rebounded off the walls, a final message to haunt the Arl behind her.

She would make good on her promise. Somehow, she would ensure it.

Next Chapter

A/N: ...everyone ready for the next chapter?

I'd love to hear your predictions!

[sasskarian]

Non-OC ships I sail:

DA:

Canders (Carver/Anders) Tethraghast (Varric/Cassandra) Merribela (Merrill/Isabela) Sebasanthy (Sebastian Vael/Bethany Hawke) Adoribull (Dorian Pavus/Iron Bull) Sagna/Dagnera (Sera/Dagna) (I also love Blackwall and Josie even though they can’t be together– the tragic admiration/love is just too fantastic) (And there’s a little something to be said for Leliana/Josie, too, but I blame that on a couple of fantastic fics rather than something I see in the game)

ME:

Vegilliams (James Vega/Ashley Williams) Wrexara (Wrex/Bakara) Taligar (Tali/Kal Reegar) Jedi (Joker/Edi) Liavik (Liara/Javik) Mordin/Happiness Thane/Happiness Thane/Shepard/Garrus Nihlus/Shepard Nihlus/Shepard/Garrus

Other:

Stormlight/Cosmere - Kaladin/Shalan (i am allowed to have my fantasies) Stormlight/Cosmere - Shallan/Adolin Stormlight/Cosmere - Kaladin/Shallan/Adolin Stormlight/Cosmere - Renarin/Rlain Stormlight/Cosmere - Dalinar/Navani Cosmere/Mistborn - Vin/Elend Cosmere/Mistborn - Wax/Steris Cosmere/Mistborn - Wayne/MeLaan

***

GoT - Robb/Theon (not my fault; i read some excellent fic at one point) GoT - Brienne/Jaime and Brienne/Tormund (look i like them both for different reasons don’t judge me)

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Miraculous Ladybug - Marinette/Adrien Miraculous Ladybug - Ladybug/Chat Noir Miraculous Ladybug - Alya/Nino Miraculous Ladybug - Luka/Marinette/Adrien

My OCs:

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DRAGON AGE

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Isera Lavellan

One sentence description: medium-tol, angry, hot mess who didn’t ask for any of this shit but is making the best out of a bad situation Nickname: Issy (will cut you if you use it); Ashes Age: 28 in 9:40D Social Status: Former First of Clan Lavellan; Currently Herald of Andraste of the New Inquisition Relationship Status: It’s Complicated? Height: 5'7" Hair colour: silver Eye colour: gray-green Distinguishing Features: The Anchor; facial scars on lip, brow, and cheek; Mythal vallaslin; back, arms, and shoulders have vallaslin Family: Ethelan (brother); Eolas (father); Deshanna (grandmother) Love interest: Cullen “ball of awkward” Rutherford, Commander of Inquisition Forces Friends/Allies: Merrill; Dorian Pavus; Varric Tethras Enemies: Everyone in fucking Tevinter except for Dorian; Everyone in Orlais in general; the magister/god/darkspawn trying to take over the world; that one snooty merchant in Orlais she wants to smack Alternate Universe Love Interest: Evariste LeMarque/Fairbanks Face Claim: Katheryn Winnick

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Ethelan Lavellan

One sentence description: tol, sassy terrible flirt who sings like an angel and knows he’s too attractive for his own good Nickname: Eth; Amatus (Dorian only) Age: 29-ish (he’s only a little older than Isera but they bicker about it constantly) Sexual Orientation: bi and loud about it Social Status: Huntsmaster of Clan Lavellan Relationship Status: Firmly taken Height: 5’10” Hair colour: Auburn Eye colour: green Family: Isera (sister); Eolas (father); Deshanna (grandmother) Love interest: Dorian; Iron Bull, sort of; although he also flirts terribly with Cassandra and Varric Friends/Allies: Varric Tethras; Cassandra Pentaghast; Sera;  Enemies: the kitchen cook who keeps running him out when he steals frilly cakes Face Claim: [young] Travis Fimmel

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Iveani Lavellan [Voiceverse]

One sentence description: medium soft girl who lives too much in dreams and still doesn’t get enough sleep Nickname: Vee; Iv Age: 33-ish Social Status: Second of Clan Lavellan Relationship Status: Very Complicated Height: 5’4” Hair colour: brown Eye colour: golden-brown Distinguishing Features: Sylaise vallaslin; freckles; partially-docked ear  Family: ??(father); Deshanna (grandmother); Miseri (little sister); Davhalla (little brother) Love interest: Solas, Creators help her Friends/Allies:  Enemies: Duke Antoine of Wycome; any red Templar or Venatori unlucky enough to stumble into her path Face Claim: Emmy Rossum

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Marian Hawke [Glitterverse]

One sentence description: tol, dirty-minded, never-takes-anything-seriously actress very good at getting into Weird Shit Nickname: Hawke; That Bitch; Birdie (Anders only) Age: 30-mumble Sexual Orientation: bi and loud about it Social Status: Amell and doesn’t care Relationship Status: Firmly taken Height: 5’10” Hair colour: black as her soul Eye colour: Bright blue-green Family: Garrett (twin); Bethany (sister); Carver (brother) Love interest: Fenris; Anders (ish);  Friends/Allies: Varric Tethras; Anders;  Enemies: that one studio intern who keeps giving her decaf Face Claim: Kiera Knightley

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Valira Surana

One sentence description: smol, confused bookworm who got handed a sword and a dog and found out she had a hell of a spine. Nickname: Val Age: 20 Sexual Orientation: demi Relationship Status: “I might be dating an assassin? I think? It… is dating, right? Not an accomplice?“ Height: 5’0” Hair colour: red-gold Eye colour: golden-brown Love interest: Zevran Face Claim: Nathalie Emmanuel

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MASS EFFECT

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Iolana Shepard

One sentence description: Commander. Fucking. Shepard. Age: mid-30s Relationship Status: Taken Height: 5’4” Hair colour: auburn Eye colour: gray Distinguishing Features: biotic implant; facial scars Family: Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard; Kahele (father); Elizabeth Shepard Love interest: Garrus Vakarian; Thane Krios Enemies: Reapers; Councilor Udina Face Claim: Kelly Hu

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Sara E. Ryder

One sentence description: The textbook definition of “bad role model” Age: 23 Sexual Orientation: Flexible, very Relationship Status: Taken Height: 5’7” Hair colour: Brown with red highlights Eye colour: Hazel-Green Family: Scott Ryder (brother); Henry (honorary uncle); Nakmor Drack (grumpy adoptive father) Love interest: Jaal Ama Darav with some mild Kandros lusting going on Enemies: The Archon; Jarun Taan; anyone who says anything about her found family;  Face Claim: Jennie Jacques

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ELDER SCROLLS

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Hero of Kvatch/Champion of Cyrodiil

One sentence description: One very confused magic-wielding assassin who really just wanted to kill a few people Age: mid-30s Relationship Status: Pining Endlessly Height: 5’4” Hair colour: Dark Eye colour: Green Species: Altmer Love interest: Martin Septim; Lucien LaChance (formerly)

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Dragonborn

One sentence description: "Look, man, I just wanted to leave this fucking tundra, okay? Next thing I know, I’m sucking up dragon souls and stabbing draugr and fucking– just– I need a drink.“ Age: 30s Relationship Status: Taken Height: 5'11” Hair colour: Silver Eye colour: Gold Species: Khajiit Family: Ma'isha (daughter), Hroar (son), Aventus Arentino (son) Love interest: Farkas (married); Inigo (queerplatonic polyamorous)

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Evelyn Swann - Fallout 4 Sole Survivor

One sentence description: Ghost of apocalypses past here to kick ass and dismantle the Institute brick by brick Age: 30s Relationship Status: Married, Widowed, now sort of casually dating her commanding officer who may or may not be human Height: 5'8” Hair colour: Red Eye colour: Green Affiliation: Brotherhood (formerly), Railroad (currently), Minutemen (currently) Family: Shaun (son) Love interest: Danse/M7-97; Nick Valentine (it happened in a dream; and kinda in the very AU past)

[monocytogenes]

For Pravin W., Isra, and/or Pravin T. 👀

Does your OC have an enemy? What happened between them? Is it mutual or one-sided? Is it petty or serious? Is one party seeking revenge? Does one person want the other dead or are they content to hate them from afar?

How important is friendship to your OC? Do they prefer to have one or two close friends or a large group of casual friends? Or do they prefer their own company over that of others?

Does your OC have an enemy? What happened between them? Is it mutual or one-sided? Is it petty or serious? Is one party seeking revenge? Does one person want the other dead or are they content to hate them from afar?

Most of the people Isra's counted as technical enemies are simply folks on the other side of the war--she has no particular hatred for them, and sometimes feels a pang of regret when they force her hand to violence. While Sith are given expansive reign to harm and kill in her societal context, the luminaries she really admires eschew violence without purpose as displays of weakness and insecurity, and she concurs with that--it's easy to see the tragedy of war in, say, taking out a bunch of panicked nineteen year olds fresh out of boot camp on an ill-conceived patrol. They're technically her enemies, she and they both understand that, but it's like pitting a bunch of five year olds against a teenager in a playground game, you know? Things are different with actual Jedi, of course, though still generally without the undercurrent of personal emotion--her encounters with them tend to be that of mutual deference between warriors; she's knelt before those she's felled after a fierce duel as a show of genuine admiration.

The one person she's had in her life that she's counted as an actual, personal, hated enemy was Darth Baras--her former master who tried to dispose of her after she grew too powerful and knowledgeable of his secrets. She carried out all manner of dirty work for him, some of which still haunts her because it involved silencing assets of his who were injured, imprisoned or noncombatants, thinking that if she could just get through that and earn her lordship then his influence and favor would open doors--and then he not only tried to off her out of paranoia, fearing she might become a troublesome loose end, but to off her through burying her beneath rubble. Isra's always had to contend with the complexities of earning respect within her social hierarchy as someone both privileged from certain perspectives and viewed as inferior from others, being both an alien and a woman in a culture with negative preconceptions of both, and while it necessarily hurt for Baras to try to take her out in the first place, him not even challenging her face-to-face? He made her feel worthless. She went on a full-fledged (successful!) revenge quest after that, the man's high status be damned.

Pravin T doesn't have anyone he'd consider a personal enemy who's still living at the beginning of DA, really--he had a particular hatred for Loghain given his handling of the Blight and the people he allowed to die, a situation that lead to the death of a man Pravin cared about and Pravin's own lasting injury, but the guy's offed in the aftermath of that. Pravin's certainly taken out a few nasty characters over the years as a bard, but his relationships with the folks he's found himself at professional odds with are more rivalries than anything (hi, Leliana) and he generally doesn't like thinking about the ones he's had to harm in the thick of tense situations.

Pravin W had Hunter, That Motherfucker, who you've heard me talk about lol. The interesting thing there was that Hunter definitely had kind of a sexualized fixation with him and really wanted their relationship to be a "worthy opponents with mutual respect" sort of thing, but Pravin didn't view it that way at all. Pravin's done some nasty, violent things in the line of duty, sure, but always out of calculated necessity or furious desperation; he'd find satisfaction in a well-executed op, but as a means to an end. Hunter, on the other hand, got off on the violence, the torture, the thrill of watching someone suffer. There was nothing novel about that kind of sadism to Pravin--Pravin had heard about people like him in the ranks of the Sith, encountered one or two in the Imperial military, played pazaak and drank with a few in cantinas on Hutta. Hunter wasn't Pravin's dark mirror or cautionary tale; he was a glorified animal who needed to be put down.

Pravin's didn't feel victorious when he did, really. There the guy was, yammering on about the narrative of intimacy he'd dreamed up, asking to show him something, reaching for his clothes--Pravin felt a brief jab of fright, suspecting he was going for a weapon, and his finger plied the trigger by reflex. Hunter looked surprised when he fell. There was a cold relief in that.

How important is friendship to your OC? Do they prefer to have one or two close friends or a large group of casual friends? Or do they prefer their own company over that of others?

Isra didn't have many close friends in her youth, given her race and upbringing--while someone from an established sith family would have myriad opportunities to socialize with people of similar abilities and species, she was an adopted alien. She spent much of her childhood compelled to pass as a sith-human hybrid, filing down her horns and instructed not to use her native tongue, an experience she found traumatic; she'd often bond with peers and then listen to them disparage people like her, which made her feel disgusting and fearful of her true identity being discovered. She made some deeper connections with people in her later teen years and at the academies she attended, where she chose to be out as a zabrak--usually fellow aliens or other misfits--and also had some casual friendships from sexual trysts, mainly forged through the Kaasian kink scene, itself a place of refuge for corners of the population that are a bit more open-minded.

I think Isra tends to form friendships with men more easily, but has a deeper psychological need for female friends, especially through the course of her story where she's training and establishing her career; she's not only navigating becoming a great warrior and all the political considerations that are part and parcel of working with the military and Sith, but also figuring out what it means to be a woman in that context. She practically tumbles into an intimate friendship with Vette after sussing her out as unthreatening; Vette's also an alien and has had a difficult life of separation from her culture, and when they're together they can be, well, normal. They can watch stupid reality holos and do each other's makeup and trade gossip that Isra could never share with the authorities in her life lest she seem flighty and troublesome. Vette's a refuge, as well as a check on Isra's more romantically chaotic behavior, and Isra later strives to offer herself as safe harbor to her protégé Jaesa in much the same way.

Pravin, in both his iterations, grew up in a home where he was emotionally neglected; as a youngest child with something of an age gap between himself and his older siblings, he was treated as extraneous; given a good education and having his physical needs met without actually being nurtured as his own person. His parents indulged some of his interests but were mainly concerned with keeping up appearances, ensuring he didn't act out and embarrass them and laying out harsh punishments when he did. He found from an early age that if he really wanted validation, he had to seek it outside of his family, and the authoritarian context he came from taught him that affection was necessarily transactional--if he wanted to be liked, praised, or doted upon, he had to swallow down his more unpalatable feelings and opinions and put forth a cool, friendly and confident version of himself.

Both iterations thus initially seek out a large swath of friendships that are fond but casual, ones where he doesn't have to show a lot of vulnerability. A lot of these blur into physical intimacy as a substitute for emotional intimacy; it's easier for him to cope with negative feelings through giving and getting pleasure that way than, you know, actually talking about difficult things. I think Pravin T ends up with some deeper friendships amid the wider Orlesian theater community where they do bitch about work and related frustrations, just because the community is so tight-knit and protective of its own, but he still keeps some of his darker stuff on a tighter leash.

His relationships with Gaubert and Lautilde are another story--they cross the line from friendship in the common sense and really become found family. Pravin's always sought out father figures in his life, given his fraught relationship with his biological dad, and Gaubert was uniquely positioned to become one: they're from different social strata, but are both artsy misfits who ran away from disapproving home situations, experienced chaotic young adulthoods, and found success through their own charisma and guile. Gaubert's seen a lot of bad stuff over the years through his bard work and other travails, but come through it with good cheer and plenty of love to give, something Pravin really needs. Lautilde, meanwhile, is a solid and stable presence who shows love more through actions than words, something that appeals deeply to Pravin (as someone who's more accustomed to making affectionate declarations on the stage or as part of some ploy or other). They know more about his background than he thinks through sheer intuition, and he's more attached to them than he's generally willing to admit.

Pravin W's a different story, and I think he's psychologically less well off than his DA counterpart because of it. He essentially had two different groups of friends while working for Intelligence; a job that, over time, caused his earlier friendships to fall away on account of his travel and inability to share details of his work--people that were part of the agency, and people he met while working undercover. The former were mostly Watchers and Fixers that he bonded with through shared challenges; the latter were people who didn't know who he actually was, but who he genuinely liked spending time with, especially in his years on Hutta (where he had more of a stable, long-term post). The cruel irony of it is that while none of those friendships were super deep and intimate, he was closer to the former given that he was able to be more himself with them, and when he left Intelligence he necessarily cut ties with his colleagues and was left with just a handful of contacts in Hutt Space that he could depend upon for assistance and comfort.

Vector is, of course, the exception to the rule--someone who was both "inside" and "outside" at once, working for a different agency but aware of Pravin's professional identity, whose own position in the bureaucratic hierarchy was strained enough that he wound up willing to leave with him. I really doubt Pravin would have returned to Intelligence in the immediate aftermath of the mind control arc and helped finish off Hunter and crew without Vector as a kind and steady voice of sanity, and while Pravin isn't always fully honest with him, Vector's definitely his one true confidant.

(I do, as you know, have some stuff I've been writing with Pravin and Theron, and I'm looking forward to those two developing a weird friendship on the basis of pragmatic cooperation and mutual professional respect, lol. Pravin's never had a ton of sustained contact with other field agents of his own caliber, I think, due to how Intelligence structures deployments and the unusual political circumstances near the end of his formal career, so being able to see himself in someone from the other side will draw out some empathy in spite of his better instincts.)