#she and morrigan have an on again off again relationship but they trust each other and rely on each other

[talloseye]

New warden oc….repressed elf with some sort of anger issue due to her life just kind of sucking and not being able to do much physically for most of it. She’s definitely one of those “i dont need anything or anyone but myself” types of people. Prioritizes survival. Her name is also an ironic pun on Sylaise the god of health…😩

[dragonologist-phd]

Introducing: Marja Aeducan

In Summary:

Grey Warden, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine, Paragon

Noble Dwarf

Warrior (Champion/Berserker)

Main Weapon: Two-Handed Battleaxe

Commanding; Decisive; Perfectionist; Honorable

Relevant Fic: Of Diamonds And Dust, Shapes in the Silence

more rambling:

Origin:

Endrin's golden child with open ambitions for the throne

She earned the respect and admiration of many through her skill with both military and diplomatic strategies. Despite this, she had few real friends; Gorim and Bhelen were the only people she truly trusted

Her main hindrance was that she does deeply believe in Orzammar's values and system of honor. She considers breaking that honor to be an action borne of weakness and a betrayal of the Ancestors, and holds herself to high standards even when others don't

As such, she refused to kill Trian and was devastated that everyone was so quick to believe she did. She vowed to return, reveal the truth, and take her rightful place as queen

She became a Warden alongside Darvis Brosca, who was recruited by Duncan at the same time

Major Choices:

Negotiated peace with Dalish and werewolves

Allowed Isolde to sacrifice herself for the good of Redcliffe

Saved the mages at the Circle

Defiled the Ashes of Andraste (long story)

Destroyed the Anvil and, after much strife, crowned Bhelen king of Orzammar (again, long story)

Allowed Alistair to duel and kill Loghain at the Landsmeet. Placed Anora on the throne alone

Would have sacrificed herself to the archdemon, had Darvis not performed the Dark Ritual with Morrigan

Party Dynamics:

Best friends with Alistair. They clicked immediately; he was relieved and reassured to have someone so decisive take the lead after Ostagar, and she was endeared (and occasionally baffled) by his sincere support and friendship

Grew fond of Sten over time. They got off on the wrong foot, but eventually learned to communicate better and realized they had a lot in common

Thinks Shale is the coolest and peppered it constantly with questions it couldn't remember the answers to. Shale was annoyed occasionally, but also flattered

Her friendship with Oghren can be complicated, but he understands her conflicting feelings toward Orzammar like few can. They've both been betrayed by their Caste, they both feel indebted to their society despite that, and they both resist talking about those feelings and end up drinking together about them instead

If I talk about Darvis we'll be here all day but suffice to say they hated each other at first, then with time and growth on both their parts formed a very strong bond. They're narrative foils; they're reluctant friends; they're ride-or-die comrades; they're in-laws. They're everything to me

Romance:

Has a genuinely sweet romance with Leliana, whose own complicated past with politics and court life gives her insight to Marja's conflict; Marja, in turn, finds Leliana's ability to find beauty in the world inspiring

Unfortunately, some of the beliefs they hold can't be reconciled, and eventually put strain on their relationship. When Marja's desecration of the ashes at Haven is revealed, they break up for good

Despite resolutions to forgo romance afterwards, she finds herself charmed by Sigrun's cheerful pragmatism and determination, and the two begin an informal relationship

Epilogue:

She survives her encounter with the archdemon, but is left with aftereffects; these mainly manifest as chronic pain and a heightened sensitivity to the Blight. Due to her chronic pain and the resulting exhaustion on her body, she takes to using a cane to get around

Becomes Arlessa of Amaranthine and commands the Fereldan Wardens from a strategic role, while Solenne Kader is sent from Orlais to act as commander in the field

Her Calling begins early, and she begins making arrangements for her last mission. Alistair and Sigrun manage to convince her to quest for a cure instead. She and Sigrun leave together on this quest, and haven't been seen since

Misc:

She acquires an interest in herbalism while on the surface, and keeps a book of dried flowers and plants she's collected

Despite being raised in luxury, she'll choose practicality over fashion every time, and doesn't really miss the jewels and trinkets she acquired as a Noble. What she does miss are the luxurious hot baths powered by the lava pools of Orzammar

While she always kind of knew she was a lesbian, she never acted on it due to the social pressures in Orzammar over having children. Her time on the surface during the Blight was the first time she was really able to explore her sexuality and general gender presentation, and it was a lot to wrap her head around

Although she doesn't have or want children of her own, she is the Cool Aunt to no less than four kids (Kieran, Gorim's kid, Oghren's kid, and Baby Endrin)

The game mabari imprinted on Darvis rather than her; howeever, during the Awakening era, Anora gifts her a mabari puppy which she names Astyth

Shortly after her reunion with Gorim in Denerim, she has an identity crisis and indulged in one of my favorite tropes, the Dramatic Character Moment Haircut (before and after pictured below)

[ell-vellan]

12, 28, and 38 from the oc relationship asks!

Thank you for asking! <3

I'm just gonna do every relationship I currently have rotating in my mind, lol.

OC Relationship Asks

12. What is something their S/O does to make them flustered?

Ellawyn/Bull: Anytime Bull flirts or touches her in public. She's not used to it - since their relationship started as a secret - and doesn't know how to react in a way that's still becoming of the Inquisitor. But she likes it anyway, and Bull likes unraveling her sense of decorum. Bull would've figured the ability to get flustered had been surgically removed from him at birth - but when El uses her abilities as a mage to ease his pain, or her command role to take care of him in ways that isn't necessary to the war effort, he doesn't know what to do or say.

Anera Lavellan/Solas: I think anytime Anera touches him, Solas finds it unexpected. For her, it's so easy, but it's been so long that he's let anyone this close. It takes him by surprise each time, and he can't hide how much it makes him melt.

Alistair/Auriel Cousland: It's too easy to fluster Alistair; Auri finds it endlessly amusing. She's far more confident in her seduction skills than Alistair. He hates it when Auriel and anyone else - but especially Zevran or Morrigan - talk about their romantic experiences so easily. But, in private, Alistair has a way of saying the most gentle, genuinely beautiful words of love to her, and it stuns her into speechlessness at last.

Zevran/Lathlen Mahariel: Mahariel is un-flusterable. He's a rock. He never smiles, never blushes. Zevran tries to rile him up by being outrageous in public, but...nothing. Mahariel doesn't care about other people and can't be embarrassed. But he enjoys making Zevran flustered with subtle touches. Because Zevran acts so suave, but he's unused to real, intense affection that zeroes in on him and claims him entirely. So Zev might flirt poetically, grandly, for all to hear - then Mahariel will grab him by the belt or his chest plate, pull him close, and murmur something possessive with low, quiet confidence in his ear. Zevran makes a half-hearted attempt to laugh it off but he's shocked, actually how someone found a way to make him blush, after all this time. He's had many people in his life who's claimed to own him, but with Mahariel, he finds he isn't opposed to the idea.

28. Do they trust one another? Are they comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

Ellawyn trusts Bull with her life; she's learning, with some difficulty, to trust that he will stay. They're both very open about their fears, though Bull has a harder time admitting any vulnerability at all.

Anera trusts Solas...about 99 percent. She can tell there's something he isn't saying, but the things he does tell her, she believes. I don't think Solas talks about his own fears at all; if he does, it's very vague and in general terms. Anera freely admits the few things she's afraid of.

Auri and Alistair are completely open books with one another, and trust each other above all others.

Zevran and Mahariel are as well, but it takes them both much, much longer to get there. Neither of them trusts easily, but by the end, they trust only each other.

38. What would be their ideal evening in?

El and Bull - Bull really wants to see El drunk. At least once. Just because he doesn't think she ever has let loose enough. So, a party with the Chargers, where Bull can see El safely back to her room, take care of her, and she no longer feels the need to be so very guarded. But El would probably prefer not to ever drink Qunari booze again.

Anera and Solas would be in front of the fire together, each reading different books, and occasionally telling the other something they've read, either to debate the merits of it or just to share fun facts.

Auriel and Alistair passed out asleep, cuddled together with their dog after a feast and no need to get up early the next morning.

Zevran and Mahariel - probably a target competition (Zev's daggers vs Mahariel's arrows) with some kind of sexy consequence for whichever one loses. Then the nicest room at whatever inn they're crashing at. It likely involves blindfolds and ropes and maybe hot candle wax.

[cityandking]

darkness, dew, ophelia for lira, dai and vesper?

thanks dear! // ask my oc stuff

Darkness: Any fears/phobias

LIRA — well she definitely has some lingering anxieties about losing everyone close to her in brutal violent bloody ways. but y'know, nothing specific DAICHI — I think post-abyss he'd have a sort of panicked reaction to having something stuck over his face. too much like being encased in living metal. and he fears letting down everyone he loves and/or has to protect, but that's kind of general background radiation in his life VESPER — fears tranquility and also losing control. these things are separate fears, but definitely linked. also: spiders

Dew: What’s something someone could do for them to make them instantly relax?

LIRA — sit her down with Alfie to decompress. tbh it's less about actions and more that there are a few people whose presence will immediately help her relax (chiefly zevran; morrigan and alistair too, so long as they aren't asking her to do anything and nothing is on fire) DAICHI — I'm not sure there's anything out there that would make dai instantly relax, but telling the truth tends to go a long way. he could also really really use a massage. rip the spa arc. (petting orum helps too) VESPER — if someone were to draw her a nice big hot bath with salts and oils and leave her to her own devices with a glass of wine and a few lit candles it would literally take years off her shoulders (cullen does this)

Ophelia: Who are the different pairings they have/brief synopsis of those relationships

you are so good to me 💕 under the cut because it got long (rip)

LIRA —

lira/alistair — they're the canon-est. they have an undeniable attraction in their youth during the blight, but lira's too caught up in her own grief and misery to let him in, and then she goes out of her way to make him unavailable to her (and herself unavailable to him) and they go their separate ways as king and warden until she goes off to cure the calling for him and they fall in love (again) long-distance over a year's worth of letters. romance at its finest lira/zevran — there's a universe out there where zevran's incessant flirting with death lira genuinely gets under her armor (literally and metaphorically) and somewhere between their shared grief and confusion and the tender sprouts of hope they find a happier ending lira/zevran/alistair — all of the above except when zevran wears her down, she sets her pride aside for .2 seconds, and they fall into the strangest puppy pile romance. I love them. lira/morrigan — genuinely I just think if they could make out and then have a surrogate kid together it would fix 80% of everything wrong with lira. (could even be lira/morrigan/alistair let's get a throuple parenting situation out here. warden!lira + warden!alistair + morrigan + kieran is kind of a perfect happy ever after for them)

DAICHI —

dai/zaref — canon coworkers to lovers! dai respected zaref from the beginning, but after their first trip into the void and the discovery that zaref was actually a void tiefling and had been lying/in hiding for the past couple years, that trust/respect kind of collapsed. in its place they made an active effort to be honest and supportive and watch out for each other (and the party). when daichi promised to bring the void to an unsuspecting world to get zaref back (it's a long story) and then returned three months of zaref's lost memories colored by dai's own admiration and respect and love, it was kind of inevitable. is it healthy? probably not, but get you a boyfriend who will stay in the abyss and/or die for you

VESPER —

vesper/cullen — canon! they have a slow burn romance built on endless war councils and late nights and exhaustion and quiet humor and trust and friendship and meeting the other where they were, and they were in love before they realized it had started. a real port-in-a-storm romance, only good and true and forever. vesper/ellana — companion!vesper tries so so so hard to keep it professional with inquisitor lavellan but unfortunately no one can resist ellana lavellan's heart and spirit and tendency to be right exactly where vesper is trying to train vesper/morrigan — sometimes you are the inquisitor and hosting the empress of orlais' court mage, who is the only person you know even More unhinged than you are about lost histories and magical theory and you have long meandering conversations so so so late into the night and could almost imagine a world where— [vesper was privately, quietly bestotted from the beginning; it would be cool if they kissed about it] vesper/solas — *train noises*

[greypetrel]

Hey c:

💐 for Alyra

🌻 and 🌾 for Raina

🌹 for Aisling

Hey there! :3

Another letter for 🌾, a couple of days after the Gallows.

And for Aisling... The concept of "home" is the core of her character so I'm sorry it'll be longer than necessary, oops! xD

Tis the ask game

Alyra:

💐 How does your OC handle being unwell or forced to rest in bed? Who cares for them and in what ways? Does your OC enjoy being doted on or are they a terrible patient? Reversed: is your OC good at taking care of others who are ill or in need?

Alyra takes it rationally. She's the perfect patient until she recognises she is sick or wounded. No point in dragging yourself up and about if your brain can't think straight from a fever and you're just there shivering, just to hinder the others. She stay put and rest until she's better and functional again. She won't be happy about it and will act grumpily for the inconvenience and the loss of time being sick nonetheless. Back in the clan it was Merrill keeping her company and chatting away not to make her feel alone. During the Blight it's Morrigan. She has... A rocky relationship with Wynne, will trust her greatly as a healer and her help is welcomed. But at the first note of a big speech over morality or what she should do, she will groan and fake to be very tired and wanting to sleep just to avoid it. Morrigan has her hedge ways to heal and is nice company to have around if you're grumpy.

Raina:

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

In people what she notices and likes most is personal coherence and how one stands up for what they believe in. She fell head over heels for Merril in Sundermount, when she confronted the Keeper and stood her ground even if it meant losing her family (which is something that would destroy Raina). Even in the little things: if you go around saying that you believe in kindness, she will notice and appreciate you stopping to pet a stray dog or give him a treat. As for things... She likes flowers growing in the most unlikely places. Dandelions sprouting from a crevice in a wall in Lowtown, she will always, always stop to blow the white puffy ones away. Pots with flowers in Darktown that are just there, apparently abandoned. Weeds creeping in in an unkept garden, or holly growing over an old oak. She's butch and will act thought and uncaring, she's the hugest softie inside.

🌾 Describe your OC through the eyes of someone absolutely head-over-heels in love with them

Dear Kitten,

I’m leaving this here because I know you would need it.

I know you’re both safe in the Alienage, that no one would look for you there. Varric has thankfully kept you out of his books, and for once I’m happy he only included me as the love interest. I can’t but worry about the both of you, tho.

I’m not off yet, and I’m writing these words as the last things, as the crew sets up the ship and finish storing the larder, in the dull moments. They are so much duller without the both of you around, I really wished the next time I would have sailed off I would have you both at my side.

Such are the things of life, I know why you are deciding to stay, and I know why R. did. It is not a farewell but a goodbye, forgive me for being clingy when I didn’t think I could be.

Take care of each other when I won’t be around, please. I know that from the exterior it would look like the one that will need help the most is R. -as much as she tries to shrug everything off and act like she glides through life easily, with a joke and a smile, like nothing really matters, we both know better. And she will need help, by all means. Particularly now that G. is with me. I saw that look in her eyes and I know that she was affected by what happened and what she did, and will surely take the blame of everything. She’s caring that way.

Please, keep an eye on her and hold her for my sake.

And since you’re there, take good care of yourself as well, always for me. I know R. will do it (and yes I am writing to her as well, I’m sure you will read that letter too anyway, there’s no privacy with you both around and seriously you should not allow R. to borrow your toothbrush I see my fair share of scurvy and teeth ailments and you don’t want them). But anyway, I already miss you and I digress.

Take care of yourself as well for me, will you? Take care of you both. I’m leaving you with both halves of my heart and I expect the two of you to treat them exceedingly well.

Dareth shiral to you as well, my heart.

Love, - Bela

Aisling:

🌹 Where in the world does your OC feel most at home? Is there any reason why? If it’s not the place they were born, where were they born? Is there a certain somebody that makes them feel at home where ever they may be? What does home mean to them?

"Home" to her means not a place but a feeling. That feeling you have when you know you can be your weirdest, silliest self and not be mocked for it, when you can talk and you will be listened, when you can freely be sad or angry or happy and it's ok. Home is people. Home was Keeper Deshanna and Pavyn and Radha, home had been Ydun. Home is the nook in the library with Dorian, both sitting on the ground with books and papers scattered around and Aisling crawling in to hug him just because he's owed many, many hugs, and him letting her do it. Home is slipping in Cullen's office when she's the one that really needs a hug, or waiting to be the last ones in the War Room just to steal a couple of minutes with him and feel loved. Home is Skyhold because there are many people she loves, there, and the fortress likes her. Home will be the farm after Trespasser, because she and Cullen renewed it with love and put hopes and emotion into it. And they could do it again if the building burned down, because Home is what they make, not anything material. Home has been animals, and spending time with them. There's something extremely soothing, to her, about gaining an animal's trust, that always makes you feel at home. Sure, you can approach domestic animals by offering them food and pet an halla if you bring them an apple! But there's a big difference between an animal approaching you for a treat and one that gives you their friendship and trust. That trust is home, what never fails to bring her joy in a rainy day and make her feel at peace with the world. An animal who trusts you doesn't have any second meanings, they just learnt to take joy in your company... and you can't be that bad of a person if a skittish horse allows you to curl up against his side and take a nap without kicking you in your head, right?

[narutomaki]

thanks to all the DATV posting I am slipping back into DA madness and thinking about Acien this morning, unable to fall back asleep, despite getting up at 5.20am on a sunday

TW: Suicide and self harm mentions in the context of a fictional character mentions of cheating

Acien is, like, for all intents and purposes a good person! he makes good choices for the benefit of many people, helps those in need without asking for anything in return, tries to get a grasp on people's true intentions and leave them better off than when he first arrive!

however, he is not a good man. his ability to trust and maintain the trust of other in interpersonal relationships is.... difficult. he finds himself unable to believe the people he loves and who love him are sincere, he tries to drive them away habitually for a long time, it takes him months of Zevran and Alistair teaming up to actually believe they love him. and then the second the party is split up, and Morrigan dips, that trust is erased. how could they love him?

his late teens and early adulthood are spent trying to fix the lives of others while he himself is stuck in a spiral of self-destruction that no one who knows him can help with, or knows how to cope with

he makes irrevocable mistakes in DA:A and almost ends his own life over them, the fact that he lived was (in his mind at the time) an accident of circumstance. that he successfully drove away one person who loved him (Alistair) was a victory in his mind, because now he can't hurt him even more

by the time DAI rolls around he's... not doing BETTER, but he's also spent a lot longer fixing interpersonal bonds and realizing how hurting someone intentionally doesn't save them any grief, despite what he was "taught"; and he's better at trusting and believing the people he loves when they say they love him, he's not forgiven for what he did but they come around to understanding why, and are able to all Actually trust each other again and then....

well then the conclave happens, Acien inserts himself in a situation that once more thrusts him into the limelight after defying death yet again and well

he backslides... "a little". he still has an easier time trusting people are being honest with him, but he can't handle the pressure that being the savior of the world AGAIN puts on his shoulders and there's two ways his story "ends"

in one of the Leliana catches him drinking and makes note of how strange it is in a letter to Zevran and Alistair and both of them show up within two weeks and immediately set about propping him up, getting him sober, and ensuring he Is Never Alone to make the choice he would have otherwise made

in the other ending.... Leliana never mentions it, or never catches him, and he's left to spiral and flounder with no one the wiser; Leliana wasn't with him when he was at his worst or best so she doesn't know just how bad he is until. He tracks down and confronts Solas. He's alone. He thinks "I can't so this, but if I do something drastic, maybe I can change his mind." and succeds where he failed in DA:A in a much more violent display than he'd tried back than.

the second one used to exist as the sole option for his ending scene lol. he was heavily based on a LOT of the internal problems I was having at the time I created him, and a lot of his temporary/permanent growth was only inserted YEARS LATER after I'd gotten help for myself

it's sad! he's a sad and tragic character! he's only 17 when he loses his best friend and way of life and is thrust into an environment where everyone looks to him to solve their problems; which isn't unusual for his life but the risk of failure is so much higher as well

also. this isn't me saying his family/clan ever hurt him intentionally, sometimes families don't know what they're doing to you and years down the line you mention something you learned and they go "what the fuck are you talking about? that's not what I meant by that at all!" and your sibling goes "that's not what I learned at all idk where you got that from", sometimes a family can be great but accidently hurt someone because they never check in on the ACTUAL things their child is taking away from things. Acien is very much like me in that case, and his family is MUCH kinder and much nicer, but he was always more sensitive and tender hearted than his siblings and cousins and friends and instead of learning to ask for more kindness, he internalized that hurting those you cared for and lying to them about how you were feeling were appropriate ways to maintain relationships (the gentle ribbing and teasing and boundary setting, but taken in the most literal and unflattering way possible) he does have a few Big Traumas from early in his life that set up his brain for this kind of thinking that no one ever caught/caught how it affected him

any way. I think he deserves to be happy and learn that he's allowed to communicate his needs and wants even (GASP) and Solas was never going to have the Revelation that Acien was aiming for lol ("if I kill myself violently in front of him he will realize that violence is wrong!" baby NO)

edit: realized I was very vague on what he did and that's bcus I spent an hour straight thinking about it and was like surely it'll be understood

he cheated on them with Anders

Zevran is ""okay"" With this (it affects his trust in Acient less) BECAUSE he's an assassin and ex-Crow, he's seen better people do worse and order others to so worse things in healthy states of mind, and Acien had always had an easier time communicating his problems to Zevran (because Alistair would try to comfort him too much, and reassure him he was a good person, which in turn made him feel worse); as well he's the one who notes that not once does Acien try to defend himself (Anders tries to defend him) and he finds a letter he'd never sent begging them to come visit

he offers to be a mediator (it takes years after the fact for either of them to learn Acien tried to kill himself a couple times before and after his affair) on the condition Acien get sober again and actually communicates with them instead of not sending them obvious distress signals, Acien has an easier time trusting this because it's an ultimatum and obviously means Zevran loves him for real (which is true, not Zevran loved him for real BEFORE as well)

after is when he finally opens up to Alistair, once Alistair is willing to sit down and talk (about a year given their respective jobs, time to heal, and travel) and finally admits a lot of his insecurities and Zevran shows Alistair the letter and while it does make Alistair feel worse and almost fully ruins any chance of reconciliation, it's the finally being honest without being self defacing (obviously reigning himself in (Zevran had discussed with him common manipulation tactics and Acien is trying his best)) that gives Alistair space to heal and understand and listen

Alistair still doesn't like leaving Acien alone, but needs must, and for a while around the conclave they had to and in the bad ending Alistair and Zevran are kept away by jobs and helping others because they assume Acien is Better Now because he hasn't had more then a Bad Week in over a year at thst point

idk if in the bad ending anyone ever finds out it wasn't Solas that killed him, which.... leaves some interesting implications seeing as Solas attacks but very intentionally leaves the Inquisitor alive HAHA any way

he was my vent oc and I made that very obvious in his storyline LOL

[morganaseren]

I’m going to leave you with a few more random thoughts I have over this because the plot bunnies won’t leave me alone. 😂

Since Niamh and Bethany specialize in different aspects of magic, Irving favors Niamh as an apprentice while Wynne favors Bethany.

When they finally do get together after a long bout of adorable awkwardness, Niamh and Bethany are each other’s firsts. They’re like the high school sweethearts who got together and just stayed together. 🥰

Unfortunately, their relationship gets found out. For the time being, I’m going to say that Jowan threw Niamh and Bethany under the bus to hide the fact he was practicing blood magic when Irving started getting suspicious.

As a result, Bethany is transferred to the Montsimmard Circle away in Orlais as a means to keep her and Niamh apart. They’re both understandably heartbroken by the entire thing.

Niamh ends up becoming a Warden in this AU. When she later learns more arcane magic through Morrigan, she becomes that badass, shapeshifting Elementalist I’ve always imagined her to be. 😍

Since the Montsimmard Circle is also where Vivienne is the First Enchanter, she ends up making Bethany her protegee. Bethany later becomes a Knight-Enchanter under her tutelage.

Prior to the Landsmeet, Empress Celene sends a retinue of Knight-Enchanters as backup along with some Orlesian Wardens, but progress was halted at Ferelden’s border thanks to Loghain.

Bethany managed to sneak into the country and is the one who frees Niamh and the other Wardens from Fort Drakon, leading to a long-awaited reunion. ...they only got imprisoned there because Saoirse sucks at subterfuge. 😅Niamh didn’t want to risk Loghain’s most trusted Lieutenant growing suspicious of Anora and having her confined again, which is why she opted for the route of surrender.

I’m still undecided about how the Dark Ritual should go. In any AU where Niamh’s a Warden, she’s usually the one who sleeps with Morrigan so that none of the other Wardens have to sacrifice themselves against the Archdemon. Since she’s still in a committed relationship with Bethany though, that kinda leaves Niamh in a tough spot because she obviously doesn’t want to betray her... 😭

Regardless, they both survive the final battle. Niamh and Bethany share some years of peace together between their respective duties before Niamh has to go off in search of a cure for the Calling.

Because Bethany has Vivienne as a mentor, she also becomes an accomplished alchemist in her own right, and she studies possible ways to ease the worst of Niamh's pain from the tainted blood in her system.

This all, of course, culminates in a happy ending, but it just takes time for them to get there.

@morganaseren: i will GLADLY take responsibility for these gayass au hours if it means i get to witness that unfold omg

[tencrushesperday]

Pulling on Threads pt3

Azriel x reader and very much angsty

happens during acowar so far, i forgot the exact time line bc i’ve read this book over a year ago

part 1 , part 2

i have an important exam tomorrow yet it’s 2:30am and i’m still here pls appreciate my dedication 😩

The first time you met Azriel, Rhysand had brought you to the House of Wind for a report about the repairs on the city’s wastewater drainage that had caused some problems recently. Everything was going well until shadows started gathering around you. They were not threatening but you would lie if you said it didn’t startle you.

“You could have just come in and said hello, you know. No need to send your little friends over.” Rhysand’s chuckle brought you out of your apprehensive thoughts about the shadows swirling around you. You didn’t understand what he was saying but it all made sense when the door opened to reveal the most beautiful male you have ever set your eyes on.

You were staring, wide eyed, as the shadows regained their masters, cladding his body in this dark, mysterious aura. It took Rhysand’s voice again to get you out of your fixation. “This Azriel. Azriel, this is a friend of mine.”

You shot up to your feet and extended an arm, out of courtesy. However, the tall male didn’t reciprocate your gesture. Withdrawing your hand, you let out a shy “Hello” suddenly very aware of his gaze on you.

You wished you had the confidence to keep the eye contact but he was so imposing that you sat back down. Rhysand told him that the both of you had a meeting that would soon end and he would seek him out once he was done. At that, Azriel left with a short nod. Nothing else had left on that he was aware of or even listened to what was going on in the room. You wondered if he was always that expressionless.

Rhysand apologised for his Spymaster’s behaviour but you brushed it off, reassuring him that there was nothing to apologise for.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. You got nervous each time you were around him. He was so pretty it literally hurt. It was pathetic how nervous you were around him at the beginning because you wanted to get to know him but had no idea how to engage. And he certainly wasn’t making it easier.

Yet, with time, you two grew comfortable around each other. Obviously he wasn’t one to talk much, but you stopped trying to get him to do so and started appreciating his silence.

Since you started going out with Rhysand’s Inner Circle more often, you also noticed his feelings for the Morrigan (for a sly spymaster, that had been pretty easy to read). You weren’t exactly comfortable with her yet when it happened. However, a year after the fateful Starfall party, you both went shopping for gifts for the holiday. You started talking about relationship statuses, just mindless gossip at first. But it was the perfect opportunity for you and so you asked her about her relationship with Azriel. She laughed it off at first but later in the night, when the both of you were drinking wine in your apartment, she decided to open up about her story. Obviously, she asked you in return why you were so curious about Az and since she trusted you with her past, it felt wrong to lie to her. So you told her about your little crush, insisting that she does nothing about it.

After speaking about it, it became easier for you. Seeing that it wasn’t reciprocated, you buried your feelings deep down and started simply enjoying his company, stopped overthinking every move when in the same room as him. Of course it still hurt to see him take home a cute female after a night out, but you tried a few relationships of your own.

They never worked out, though. Your partners always complained that you weren’t giving your everything to the relationship. And since the bond never snapped with any of them, you didn’t bother. You knew your heart belonged somewhere else.

You wished it didn’t.

Especially tonight. When you woke up to everyone panicking about a missing Elain. Of course it was tragic. She was a lovely girl, that meant a lot to many people here, yourself included, as she was Feyre’s sister.

But she mattered a lot to Azriel too apparently as he flew to rescue her not thinking twice. He hadn’t heard you call his name before he shot up into the sky with Feyre. No planning, no strategies. That was so unlike the calm and collected Azriel everyone knew. She could elicit such reactions from him when you could barely get him to smile at you recently.

How cruel the world could be.

Rhysand was going mad all night waiting for them to come back. You understood, at least you told yourself that you guessed, what he was feeling when his mate was in danger like that.

Over the decades, you have mastered a composed exterior. When you’re in love with someone you copy their antics and manners, right ? At least Azriel taught you that.

But right now, with him being in the middle of the Hybern war camp, you knew it was threatening crack. You were holding on to your sanity by a thread. Because what would you do if something ever happened to him? How would you survive that ? You knew you wouldn’t. You would blame yourself everyday for at least not telling him of your feelings. He deserved to know that someone loved him as fiercely as you did, even if he didn’t feel the same. Rejection could maybe mean closure for you.

Going over every worst scenario in your mind made you nauseous so you had to leave Rhys and go to the bathroom. If nausea passed once you had a glass of water, hyperventilating only got worse, as silent tears were rolling down your cheeks. After a few minutes, you heard a knock on the door and Mor’s soft voice asking if you were okay.

You simply opened the door for her and let her hold you in her arms. You needed to ground yourself back into reality, needed someone to tell you he was going to come back, safe and sound.

She held you like that, softly stroking your head and whispering reassurances in your ear, for at least fifteen minutes before you were able to calm down your breathing and thoughts. “Let’s go make tea in kitchen, huh?” Her voice was so gentle and you were only able to nod back.

You had to get your shit together. If Mor saw you like that, it didn’t matter. But the rest couldn’t. Not Amren, not Cassian and certainly not Rhys, who was already panicked enough.

Hours passed and your worry didn’t. You drank tea with Mor, practiced some breathing exercises Cassian once taught you, even tried to get yourself busy with some other work.

Nothing has ever felt as good as Rhys announcing that Feyre told him all three of them were alive and on the way back through their daemati gift.

Nothing has ever felt as horrible as watching him land with her in his arms.

You were worried sick over him. While he was risking his life for her. When she was mated to another. When he was…

As fragile and hurt as she was, you decided that you didn’t like her. It was definitely biased, unfair, uncalled for. But you couldn’t shake that feeling. That she was stealing something from you.

“You’re hurt” Azriel shot his eyes at you. Nobody said anything before nor after you stated that. And you didn’t know if centuries or milliseconds had passed since they landed. The world was heavy on your shoulders as he held your gaze. You wanted nothing more than to run into his arms. To hold him as tight as possible to make sure he was real, that he was with you and alive.

But you stayed on the other side of the room, still holding eye contact for what felt like an eternity.

Cassian got in between you as he took Elain from his arms. Azriel still stared at you over his shoulder.

You approached him slowly. You were doing everything in your power to not throw yourself at him. “Can i help you clean that?” He nodded slightly. He was so tired.

He was so, so tired. And you looked so welcoming. He just wanted to crash in your arms and let you hold him forever.

You barely caught him before he fainted.

[crow-of-ferelden]

Glasya Surana

[glah-see-yah]

age: 23

height: 5'3"

class: mage

specialization: arcane warrior & spirit healer

romance: Alistair

race: elf (half dalish, half city elf)

Glasya was brought to the Circle of Magi at a young enough age to forget her mother's face, but not her name. Born in the Denerim alienage, her early childhood was largely mundane until she showed signs of magical prowess. Ultimately, her mother, who had grown increasingly ill in a short time, had her taken to the Circle to avoid an already rocky relationship with the only Dalish tribe she knew.

At the Circle, Glasya became known for her intensity and ambition. She was a serious apprentice, spending all her time studying and trying to learn as much as she could. Her sight was set on the title of First Enchanter. This ambition, and a talent for elemental magic, caught the attention of First Enchanter Irving who kept a close eye on the young girl for most of her studies. Over time, Irving grew fond of Glasya, championing her talents to anyone he could while subtly dropping books he thought she'd enjoy near where she spent her time in the library. Glasya would later call the First Enchanter the closest thing she had to a father figure and expressed great gratitude for his support of her endeavors.

Jowan was a mage she was reluctantly associated with. She disliked his work ethic and honestly found him annoying but couldn't help herself when he would beg and plead for help with various tasks. Other than he, Glasya had few friends in the Circle. Most found her ambition to be somewhat frightening, some spread rumors that she'd never genuinely smiled, none were shocked when her Harrowing went as well as it did. For her, the next logical step was to continue her path towards First Enchanter.

At least until the Blight threw a wrench in everything she had planned. Becoming a Grey Warden was terrifying for Glasya but she swallowed that fear and went into her Joining stone-faced. When she met Alistair, she regarded him as one would an eager puppy. He found her cold but saw glimpses of something potentially softer, usually in her interactions with the mabari (as she had decided there was nothing fearful about them). The betrayal at Ostagar brought them closer and they swore to stay by each other's side to stop the Blight and rebuild the Grey Wardens.

Morrigan was another story. From the beginning, Glasya was intrigued by the witch that proudly denounced her Circle home. The two grew close, bonding over shared stories and magic knowledge. It took some warming up to on both sides but both eventually came around. In fact, it's said that the first time Glasya truly laughed with the party was around the fire with Alistair and Morrigan. Neither was clear as to just what garnered such a joyful reaction from their otherwise stoic leader, but both were grateful for the sound. Alistair swears it was in the moment he decided he would do anything to hear that sound again.

Leiliana would complete their found family, though the others would leave their own lasting impact on Glasya's life. The two would sit by the fire for hours as Leiliana told stories and Glasya tried her hardest to avoid drifting off. Leiliana was her trusted confidante when she found herself too embarrassed to tell Morrigan things but she mostly regarded her for the interesting life she'd led up until that point. Having lived primarily in the Circle, Glasya adored her tales of Orlais and life as a bard. The two swore to one day visit Orlais together and enjoy all of the comforts of high society.

The group suffered through thick and thin together but none found themselves closer than Glasya and Alistair. At first, she didn't realize that she was only truly at ease in his company. Perhaps it was the consistency of his presence when so much else was awry, or perhaps is was his upbeat charm and ability to make light of every situation they were in. Either way, she inevitably realized she was falling in love with him. It took some nudging from Morrigan and Leiliana but eventually the pair talked over their feelings and quickly became inseparable. While Glasya found no real necessity in it, Alistair swore they would be married when the archdemon had been defeated.

And defeat the archdemon they did. Ultimately, Glasya supported Anora's claim to the throne and allowed Alistair the satisfaction of killing Loghain (though she was prepared to do so herself). She requested the Circle be freed as a boon but otherwise set her sights back on the rebuilding of the Grey Wardens. After all, the Grey Wardens were her everything now and her ambition wouldn't let her rest until she'd served them in every way she could.

General Trivia:

She earned the nickname "Tiny Terror" among the warden recruits (though they'd never dream of saying it to her face) for her stature next to Alistair and her continued intensity in all aspects of life

Her mabari's name is Draugr and she loves that dog more than anything. She tells Alistair this often.

Occasionally, because her mage status was often scrubbed from public records, people will regard Alistair as the Hero of Ferelden. He would laugh and say, "oh no, it's my wife you're looking for," after which Glasya would march out from behind him.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

[karimac]

…in the details, Part 3

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

Part 2

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 3,556

Well, that was not exactly the best idea, was it?

Dr. Darcy Lewis, unlike her colleague, Dr. Erik Selvig, was not a big fan nor an authority on any form of mythology. And the Irish history ask was a longshot at best.

So, here you were, in the coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Westview, talking to Dr. Lewis and getting nowhere fast.

“And, that’s not happening,” the astrophysicist grumbled as she set down her phone and took another sip of her beverage. It was some weirdly sweet concoction that looked like what humans thought rainbow-colored unicorn poop looked like. This world was not ready for what real magical beasts looked like. Most authors had not gotten all of that right in their books. No surprise there. No human really needed to see such things on a daily basis, and whoever had been the muses for those authors had covered up a lot.

“I take it Dr. Selvig has no clue on the Celtic Pantheon?” you asked as you sipped your very boring, light, non-sweet hot coffee. The barista probably wanted to laugh when you ordered it, but he did his best to stifle his snicker. “It was a very long reach on my part, Dr. Lewis. I’m sorry I roped you into this.”

“You can call me Darcy because you actually acknowledge my academic status,” the brunette said as she flipped her phone over again. “So, Thor is off in space. You don’t want me calling Falcon or his pal with the metal arm. Captain Marvel isn’t on your contact list. Ant Man and The Wasp? They can be sort of science geeks, right? Wait. Banner? Is he OK to call?”

Before you could open your mouth, Darcy was texting Banner off her own phone. “You know Bruce?”

“I met him at some meet and greet at MIT before the world went poof,” Darcy replied as she set her phone back down and seemed to be praying Banner would actually return her text. “Stark was there, too, but Banner was the one I got coffee with. Sweet guy, you know, even if he gets all green sometimes.”

As you sipped your coffee, you noticed a few people giving you odd looks. It made you very nervous. “Maybe we should finish up and get back on the road?” you asked Darcy as you quietly motioned toward the other patrons getting their daily fix of caffeine.

“Yeah, bubbe isn’t answering me anyway,” Darcy said as she picked up her phone and got up from her chair. By now there were several residents blocking the exit. “What is your problem? We paid. We’re busing our table. Then we’re leaving.”

“Are The Avengers going to hunt her down?” one woman in the back of the group asked as Darcy looked back toward you and mouthed the word “Help” before turning back to the crowd. The questioner was loud, but you couldn’t see her because of the big delivery man standing in front of her with a huge pile of Amazon packages. “Why did you come back?”

It was time to vamp. With an apparently faulty memory, this was going to be interesting.

“Before you all ask about what is going to happen regarding Wanda Maximoff, I want you all to know I have no authority to speak for The Avengers. I have never been a true member of the team. I helped them at a time when things were beyond bleak for this world. It was an honor and a privilege. But I am not a spokesperson. I am not a team leader.”

“Then why did you come here?” a man with glasses, holding a briefcase, asked from the line where he was waiting for his order. “Then and now?”

“I came the first time because I was looking for my friend. I was pulled into that nightmare just like you were. I wish I had been able to help her before any of this happened.”

“But you have powers, right? Couldn’t you have shut her down, hot stuff?” the first woman added as she moved to the front. Then you recognized her. Agatha Harkness. If Wanda kept her alive, there was a reason for it, and all the pain you had rising in your core had to be tamped down fast. Harkness had hurt Wanda, and that would have to be addressed one day. You were good at playing the long game.

“Taking her out in any sort of power stunt could have jeopardized your lives. I was not sure what she did to make it all happen, and I was not going to risk your lives. I’m sorry it wasn’t put to an end sooner. Now, if you will excuse us, we need to get to a meeting regarding the incident here,” you said as you and Darcy pushed through the crowd and back out to the street.

“OK, what was all that? Spin? Or are you remembering something?” Darcy asked as you got back into her car. You had left your rental on the outskirts of town. Better to travel as a unit until your business here was concluded.

“I remember a couple of things from that mess,” you said as you tried to keep your hands from shaking. “I remember Wanda and Vision’s sons. Billy and Tommy. I remember the house where I lived. Can we drive out to where Wanda had her house? Maybe that will help?”

Darcy pulled out of the parking space and made the lefts and rights to the lot where Wanda’s house had been. The one you were living in was in a lot right next to it. It was empty now, too, but you got out of the car anyway and stood in the center of the patch of dirt. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you tried to piece together what had happened. And then you started to cry as you fell to your knees.

“Whoa, slow down,” Darcy said as she ran and knelt beside you. “What did you see?”

“It’s weird. Wanda came over one day and more or less apologized to me because she couldn’t give me my real happy ending. I can show you, if you’ll let me…”

“Go into my mind?” Darcy protested before you could wave her off the idea. “No Vulcan mind melds for me today, thanks.”

“No, I carry this mirror, and you can see memories in it. Trust me, I do not use telepathy as a first line of anything. I tried it once, to help a friend, but it just caused more problems,” you groaned as you pulled the mirror out of your backpack. You waved your hand over it, and Darcy could now see what had happened with Wanda.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find them and bring them here,” the Sokovian said quietly as she walked around the 1980s version of what was your living room. It was way too pastel for your liking, but the hints of fuchsia, orchid and teal in the overall cream and light gray design weren’t so bad. You had a couple of cats there with you. One was an orange tabby with a penchant for eating tuna at any given moment. He was warm and affectionate and just a ray of sunshine dressed in fur. The other was as white as the driven snow, but his own cuddly disposition came through. He was the one who would leave you weird gifts every morning. Rocks, feathers, and yes, the occasional dead mouse would be at the foot of your bed each sunrise. You’d find out at the end of that nightmare that the cats were only constructs of Wanda’s chaos magic.

“I know you miss the three of them,” she continued as she pointed to a framed picture of Steve, Bucky and Sam, all decked out in appropriate 1980s clothes that made them look like they ran away from some cop drama. “It’s probably better that there aren’t too many Avengers here anyway. Vis is getting concerned. And this way, well, no one needs to know which one you would have chosen. I know. You know. So you can always talk to me. Like we did before. But I gave you the wedding ring to make sure no one came on to you. Just in case I can get him here soon.”

As you showed Darcy the memory, a tiny part of you was screaming that this whole scenario seemed wrong. You watched Wanda’s crimson glow float around you as she spoke. You vaguely remembered The Morrigan trying to kick some sense back into your addled brain, but Wanda’s world was much too enticing to let your other self come to the fore. You wanted the damned happily ever after with the husband and the house and everything that meant in the modern American ethos. You had rationalized things for years in such a way that you’d never let yourself get it. That was why no one was here to hug you at night like Wanda had Vision. Maybe that fact alone was enough to crack Wanda’s hold on you a bit more than she realized?

But you also had to admit that you wanted to be there for Wanda in case things went south. That much was clear from the moment you showed up in Westview the first time.

“How come you didn’t just zap her? Fight back?” Darcy asked as you fully shifted to the present day and paused the memory.

“Because she wasn’t wrong. I did miss Bucky, Steve and Sam. I missed Banner, too, because they were, in the end, the ones still here that cared if I lived or died. And Spider-Man. Which is random and weird, but he did. And frankly, what I said in the coffee shop was true. I had no idea what my powers would do to her spell. I could have leveled the town. That was not an option.”

“So, that Agatha woman…” Darcy started to say and then stopped. “Wait. That was her? In the coffee shop? That was why you were acting so weird?”

“Yeah. Wanda could have killed her or taken Agatha away with her to imprison her. She didn’t. After what Agatha tried to do to Wanda, to try and take her powers, Wanda had every right to finish her off. But Wanda doesn’t likely know all that yet. There are rules set up from ages ago. Things witches can and can’t do to each other under specific circumstances. So Wanda left her trapped here—for now anyway. But, whatever happened with them, it affected me, too. I got hit with stray magic blasts. I’m betting it messed up my powers in ways I didn’t realize. And maybe my memories as well.”

As Darcy knelt there, her phone finally chimed. It was some weird little R2-D2 chirpy beep, and she looked elated as she showed you the message. “Seems Bruce still cares if you are OK or not. I don’t think bringing him here is such a great idea…”

“Did anyone send him data about what happened here?” you asked as you got to your feet, pocketing some of the dirt from the lot before you stood up. “Air and soil samples? Readings from the residents?”

“I can get them for him. Trust me, Jimmy Woo and Monica Rambeau would be more than happy to help. I’m glad that loon Hayward seems to have gone into hiding or was hauled away to The Raft,” Darcy noted as she checked her phone again. “Seems the doc is working out of a Stark lab here in Jersey. Road trip?”

You really didn’t want to go see Bruce. You had no idea how you’d explain any of what you did to him.

++++++++++

You rehearsed what you planned to tell Bruce a million times in your mind as Darcy drove along the Garden State Parkway to a place called Woodcliff Lake. Stark Industries did indeed have a lab there, and it made you want to scream as you walked into the facility. You did not need yet another reminder that you could not save Tony Stark’s life at the end of that final battle with Thanos. That was part of why you were in this mess in the first place. It was also why you had a screaming fight with Stephen Strange, but no one else knew about that yet.

“Dr. Banner? We’re here!” Darcy yelled as you walked toward what had to be the research wing. The lack of security in the place was a bit disturbing, but then again, there were probably booby traps built into every square inch of the place. You could just hear Tony now as you got closer to the lab area. It would likely have been close to the speech you got the first time he talked to you at the compound.

“Hey! Lucky Charms! Don’t touch any of the expensive stuff. I guess that means don’t touch anything. I still have no idea why you are hanging around the team except that Steve wants you here for some reason. Maybe you’re tied to…his friend…and I just don’t want to face that? Still have issues with all of that, even if the man is dead. Pepper and Morgan said I should be nice to you, but I’m not quite there yet after what happened in Berlin. They are better people than I’ll ever be.”

“Earth to Kari?” you finally heard Bruce say as he waved his massive green hand in front of your face. Then he realized why you were likely spacing out. "Dr. Lewis, can we have a minute?”

“You can call me Darcy, if I can call you Bruce?” Lewis said as Banner nodded to her. “Cool. I’ll go find the little scientist’s room and be right back,” she added as she left the lab.

“So,” Bruce started as he pointed you toward a set of chairs at one side of the lab, “Darcy filled me in via text. I have no idea what happened with Wanda, and I know none of us know where she is. I did call a friend who wants to help,” he noted as a swirling circle of yellow light formed near the window that looked out over the parking lot. “I figured you’d listen to him, and he knows more about this stuff than I do.”

“What did you do?” Wong shouted as he exited the portal. “You usually listen to reason. Why did you go after Wanda all alone?”

“I went to help Wanda. She was hurting. She watched Vision die twice. She lost Pietro. I can relate to all that very, very well. My twin Branan died in front of my eyes, too, and I’ve buried two husbands. Both died in battle. I just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. But she…she hit all my vulnerable points. And she was under attack at the same time. From a woman named Agatha Harkness and from the director of SWORD. Some martinet named Hayward. He built another Vision. I think Hayward was using Wanda’s powers to bring him to life. Darcy is going to check in with some of the people who worked with her to get you more intel, Bruce.”

“Another version of Vision? Great,” Bruce muttered as he looked over at Wong. “As for this Harkness person…”

“The name rings very small bells, so I’ll need to do some research,” Wong noted as you bumped your left fist against your forehead. “What?”

“Harkness is a succubus. And she is old. Not as old as I am, but she is still a good 400 years old, give or take a day. She apparently survived the Salem Witch Trials. Wanda spelled her and left her in Westview. I think she is, at least in small ways, aware that her world is all wrong. I didn’t want to press it when I saw her in that coffee shop. We do not need an angry succubus flying around. Wong, they got into an aerial battle, and Wanda was using sigils, runes, whatever you want to call them, to focus her power. I think she picked that up from good old Aggie. I never showed her anything like that on purpose. I always suspected she had magic in her bones, but it wasn’t my place to start that fire. The bigger issue is that Wanda conjured up two children while she was there. She created cats for me, so anything is possible. I got knocked out by the end of the fight, so I have no idea what exactly happened in the end other than Wanda running off and Agatha being left behind for some reason.”

“And?” Wong asked as he started to look you up and down. “You did a spell? And it went bad? Your aura is all messed up.”

“I…I tried to do a spell so The Avengers would think of me less and less, and then eventually I’d just be a fleeting memory. I felt walking away in the dead of night, the thing I usually do when I am leaving town, would not be good enough. The spell got botched, and now I’m connected in some fashion to Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. Looking back at it, I spent more time with them in the days leading up to my departure. Steve and Bruce were there the day I left, and so were Sam and Bucky. And…I’m carrying a lot of guilt about Bucky after his accident in 1943.”

“All this on top of the magical circus Wanda made? Are you insane?” Wong yelled as he started to pace.

“And the fight I had with Stephen on the day of the battle. Yeah, I guess I am insane,” you replied as Wong threw up his hands. Bruce had gotten extremely quiet, and that was not a good thing.

“Before we get to dissecting your spell, Kari, was this because of what Tony said? About you not being an Avenger because you were…?”

“Unstable? Yes. And the fact I could not bring anyone back from the grave, especially during that last battle. And the fact about who killed his parents. Buck did while under Hydra control. Steve found out and never told Tony. I ran into The Winter Soldier a few times over the decades, so there was the chance I could have prevented their deaths, too. Tony really had no reason to ask me to join the band.”

“Once we get your spell problem sorted, then we will address this, too,” Bruce said as he looked toward Wong and shook his head. “I loved Tony like a brother, but he was wrong…”

You winced a few times as you tried to listen to Bruce and Wong, now joined once again by Darcy, as they tried to figure out how to fix or reverse that spell, and they hashed out what might have happened to you during that first trip to Westview. You were really trying to focus on their questions, but you felt a tug that no one else could ever have possibly felt.

“Baltimore,” you mumbled as you pulled out your cellphone and debated texting the person you felt tugging at that damned invisible string. No. That would have ended badly, especially since your original spell had gone haywire.

“Bucky Barnes was arrested?” Darcy asked as she showed you her phone alert. “I bet he punched that new fake Cap in the nose. Sorry, but that guy looks like he has no clue. I saw him on Good Morning America. Total cheese fest.”

“Wait. What?” you asked as you took her phone. “Sam didn’t keep the shield? I just hope Bucky didn’t punch Sam and wind up in jail for that!” You gave Darcy back her phone and looked at yours again. It was buzzing. “Anyone here know who the hell is Christina Raynor?” you asked the trio in front of you. No one had any clue about that. You hit the speaker button as you answered the call.

“Hello? Ms. MacOrish. I’m James Barnes’ therapist, Christina Raynor. Sam Wilson said I should give you a call and ask you to join us in Baltimore. As quickly as possible, if you can. I don’t think Mr. Barnes wants to spend the night in a holding cell.”

“Oh no, you are not going to Baltimore,” Wong said as he crossed his arms and got a stern look on his face. “Not while your head is all over the place. You could portal to Baltimore in the 1800s for all you know. You could end up eating lunch with Lord Baltimore in the 1700s. You really shouldn’t do this.”

“Wong, what better place for me to go than to see a therapist?” you said with a smirk as you opened your own portal, this one a lovely shade of emerald green, that went to where Raynor was waiting for you—outside an interrogation room at the city jail.

“Mr. Wilson said you’d be fast. He did not tell me you were one of the powered class,” Raynor said as you went through the portal, looking back to wave briefly as you heard Darcy’s last comment.

“What about your rental car?”

[dandelion-person]

You know, I absolutely adore playing as a dwarf. I have a heartfelt connection to them. But aside from my personal preference, I find the character development to be wonderful. In Origins, when you play as a noble, my favorite part about the backstory in general is how warden develops. He/she starts as royalty, some wonderful person who very well may absolutely hate being rich. Hates the way they are looked at, but knows no other way. Someone who does their duty unquestioning and loyally. Who thinks of battle as something as simple as dusting the house. Perhaps they are even in a forbidden love with their second. These things: hiding relationships, knowing your death is tangible on any given day be it by darkspawn or relatives, never getting to be seen as a simply normal dwarf, are just a normal part of life. Until everything changes. And you’re thrown into this world that is ever so bright and scary. Something totally different. And you, young warden, are so practiced in the ways you have lived that people often mistake you for being callous. Monotone. Unfazed. They’re not wrong. At this point, it takes a lot to rattle you. But this is your life now. And you must learn.

I love thinking about the various situations Aeducan finds themselves in. Stumbling out of the deep roads barefoot into the wardens, who are visibly shocked, battering you with questions that should have been comforting, only to be so numb and hardened that the only thing you can muster is a very formal “it is good to see you again, Duncan.”

Then, meeting Alistair, watching the conversation with a mage and apparently something to do with these odd human religions and traditions with the most resting bitch face imaginable. As is your habit. You’ve grown accustomed to never showing emotion. Dwarves are accustomed to battle and honor and tradition, not emotion. And Alistair, thinking you’re offended or something and you simply replying with “You must be Alistair.” You didn’t mean to sound so scary, wow.

Then Duncan, briefing you on your joining tasks, and you, switching automatically into army general mode, asking the strategies and alternative solutions should problems arise. Duncan finds himself smiling internally. Your level head will surely balance Alistair’s emotional panic in the future.

On to Morrigan. These humans never cease to amaze you. She has nearly no clothing on. How can she survive a battle? None of this shows on your face of course. The never changing diplomatic hardened expression masks your internalized thoughts. It is at times a blessing, not allowing others to see your confusion and fear and curiousity as you learn this new world.

Battle at first is a bit distracting. You’re caught off guard by the fear and disgust the other recruits show. It’s as if they’ve never seen darkspawn...but wait. They haven’t. And you’re reminded again of your people (of whom will never speak of you again) who have faced these monsters for centuries. You find yourself wondering if these humans had experienced the hug of their mother. Harmless games with their fathers. Bonding with their siblings. You consider your own personal family life. You suppose in your own dwarven ways, your family had been very close. But you know if you were to ever try to explain that to these humans, that your version of bonding with your brothers had been training so harshly and brutally that you had sometimes had to spend days in the medicinal wing, they would think you a monster or a war machine. Perhaps...perhaps that’s what you are.

Then waking up in the hut. A pounding headache and intense body pain. You shift into automatic response. Is my duty completed? Are my men safe? What must be done to finish the assigned task. You walk outside to find Alistair. Who expresses some strange sort of gratitude, for what you don’t understand. You consider that humans take death very personally. Death is not something humans are ready and willing to face at any moment. How strange. You think your face must display some sort of confusion, because you swear you see Alistair give a small sad smile. Almost like he’s pitying you. The very look of it makes your stomach turn. Pity is for the weak.

Then there’s Leliana. The most odd creature you’ve found yourself encountering in this new strange land where the sky seems like it can swallow you. She speaks of some man in the sky. You presume a human. She has tried to explain it to you, but it makes no sense. Your body will one day return to the stone from which it came...but then you think further. Perhaps you won’t be returned to the stone. You’ve been exiled. There is no longer somewhere for you to go after you die. For the first time in your life, dying in battle doesn’t seem like a desirable choice.

Sten, oh Sten. Sten quickly becomes one of your most trusted companions. You and him understand each other. Sten is not blinded by emotion and vengeance. Sten exists. And you can appreciate that. Sten has a purpose. Long ago, you were a lot like Sten. Now, you have no idea of your purpose. This world confuses you. You take each day as it comes. Something you’re not used to and find quite annoying. You do not know what to expect. The one thing you can appreciate though, is duty. Duty you took upon yourself. You pride yourself in it really. For the first time, you are doing something that you chose to do. Something not assigned to you. Something you control. It is comforting, and when you look at the sky and grip your toes into the ground so it doesn’t swallow you, you think of this one piece of your culture that will always stay with you: your duty. Sten helps you realize this. And with Sten, you find yourself talking strategy. In some ways, Sten reminds you of Trian. In other ways, Gorim. You cherish Sten. He is a rock in this strange floating bright world.

Then comes Zevran. One of the first elves you’ve ever spoken to in depth actually. Among the first you’ve ever encountered. You find yourself considering him almost to be charming? The word sounds foul to you. He’s a piss poor rogue. Of this you know. At first you find him rather annoying? Almost angering? A piss poor rogue and an even poorer assassin, he turns his back on his duty immediately. You find his desire to avoid death deplorable. But for some reason, the idea of killing him (for the first time in your life mind you) strikes you as being morally wrong. Why? You weren’t sure. Perhaps it was your vacancy for tendencies of vengeance. You did not even seek to kill Bhelen after all. Bhelen had simply done what any dwarf would’ve, had they been smart enough. Bhelen’s act did not provoke hard feelings. You still loved him even. Your little brother had grown into an outstanding noble and you could not deny that. He had simply beaten you at a game. Once again, if you expressed this opinion to your human companions after they learned your story, they considered you to be insane. Apparently, vengeance is a common thing amongst humans. Humans, you feel, are incapable of accepting that which they do not enjoy. You find this odd. Relating back to Zevran, Zevran is not human. And though he acts nothing like the odd elves from the trees (the first trees you’d ever seen by the way), Zevran is refreshingly morally corrupt. The more you get to know him, the more he reminds you of your people. And this is comforting. He tells you of Antiva. Perhaps you even ask him if he will someday take you there. Maybe there would feel like home. It certainly sounds like the politics are the same. Zevran’s moral instability and cowardice are exactly what makes him so comforting. He makes you feel at home.

Sorry, I suppose those are just some ramblings/drabbles that go through my head when I play as a dwarf. Let me know if you’d like me to write any other background stories. I’ve played them all. The way my brain can spin their personalities and character development affects the way I build each character. I’d love to share more if anyone liked this!

PS: I have played all 3 games. The only backstory I haven’t played so far is the Qunari and it will have to wait because I just upgraded from 360 to One and now I have to buy another inquisition.

[flowerflamestars]

PLEASE elaborate on cassian and azriel as teenagers PLEASE

 YES MY BOYS OKAY LETS GO

So the moment it all actually comes together and starts is in Starlight: that first blood smeared kiss with aching ribs, Cassian’s retrospectively enormous fuck you to authority, that searing absolution: he’s Illyrian. 

What Azriel hears: Illyrian like me, like me, the only one.

This is where Azriel understands all at once. That he might have nothing but an uncertain future, but he can belong with this one bloody, beautiful boy who is just as deadly. That this is why Rhysand- Rhysand who has known love every single day of his life- is jealous. 

It’s about recognition. That the High Lord chose Azriel and recognized his talent- even if Rhys is the one who really has a father, who gets letters and gifts, who has a father. 

That Rhys’ bleeding heart that both Cassian and Azriel find incomprehensible meant that he’d dragged Cassian to shelter- but the High Lady had looked at the strongest Illyrian born of his generation and said, yes, you can stay by my sons side. 

Rhys went: New? Brother? 

But Cassian understood exchange. Alliance. And proceeded to prove himself further to the Camp Lords who spit on him by thrashing Rhysand within an inch of his life, every single day. 

Enter, Azriel. Overpowered, out of control, almost executed because an Illyrian who can’t fly is worth less than a lame hunting dog. 

Rhys might have come to learn Illyrian techniques, but at the end of the day, his power is incompatible with siphons, isn’t Illyrian at all. 

Cassian has been alone his entire life. He could shake the mountains when he was eight- but it didn’t earn him anything but more fear, more anger, more people who’d called him a bastard, a monster. He doesn’t remember his mother’s name, he’s never had anyone and doesn’t count Rhys because he thinks the High Lady is trying to collect him because her precious Prince clearly needs a guard dog. 

(he’s not 100% right, but he’s not 100% wrong either. Alyssar and Rhain plan for Rhysand to rule the Steppes one day, befriending Cassian has great future value if they all survive to adulthood)

And then Azriel blows up the first few shitheads they throw him in the ring with. No control, so very much power.

There’s a timeline where they ended up sexy rivals, each other’s only benchmark- but what happens instead is someone pushes Az off a cliff in training and he just falls. 

Azriel can’t fly.

So Cassian teaches him. This weary, beautiful boy everyone is afraid of who the dark loves, who spends every spare moment staring at the heavens like he’s never even seen the sky before. 

The snows blow in early. Cassian looks at Azriel. They’re exactly the same height, which is to say, already enormous, but Az always makes himself smaller. Always. He’s deadly and graceful and so, so, afraid. Not that anyone notices but Cas- no one else ever gets close enough to this boy the Camp Lords call a devil hidden in Illyrian skin.

Cassian sneaks Azriel back to the cabin, to his gifted bedroom that he is abruptly nauseatingly both proud of and ashamed by. 

He’s so sad, Cassian can easily share, easily keep him from freezing to death.

(in the back of his mind, he knows he wouldn’t. Az is strong like him, he wouldn’t freeze. He’d live, but it would hurt. Pain is supposed to make them stronger, and they hurt each other all the time. Surely, surely, that’s enough.)

The thing is, they’re equals. They’re alike, the only people either of them has ever met who are. And, as we know from Daylight and Starlight, they get each other. As friends, as brothers, as everything, they understand one another. 

Az might not talk much, but Cassian always listens when he does. Laughs, the sound so vast and lovely Azriel never knows what to do in the face of it. 

Cassian is absolutely brutal, but he’s fair too. Kind. Bewilderingly willing to share whatever he has with Azriel, who has even less, for the easy price of fighting each other, watching each others backs. 

They go to sleep each night in a too-soft bed, warm for once. Confounded by so many things around them- Cassian is briefly, utterly vindicated at the look on Azriel’s face when Alyssar gives him a pillow. 

Flash forward through winter and spring, to that early summer day.

Rhys is jealous of Azriel- because he and Cassian belong together. That Cassian had looked at Azriel- so very wrong to behold, more shadow than teenage boy, scarred and scared, half blind in the sunlight- and seen an equal. In Azriel. Not Rhysand.

Rhys, much like the spoiled child that he was who’d never before had someone say no, never before considered that anyone could be better, is a little bitch about it. He spends their teenage years getting over it, slowly. 

But in the meantime, Azriel is having a revelation.

He can belong.

It’s about recognition. Love, but also so much more than love. It’s only with each other- as friends, as lovers, as some mix in between because they know better than to think this will last forever, better still than to imagine that something so inconsequential as Azriel someday finding a man a who could love him without secrecy, that Cassian does like the way Morrigan looks at him, could ever, ever tear them apart- that they learn they can have. 

They hurt each other all the time in training, they have to- Cassian learns what Azriel thinks, that Az says to himself so many times over, with every reach- Cassian would never hurt me for real. Azriel realizes that no matter how strange he is, how scared, Cassian has never been afraid of him.

They look at each and see only equals, all in the world that can really belong to each other, because no one else exists as they do.

It’s Cassian setting the bones in Azriel’s hands after he broke them, Azriel using the darkness to steal bandages and to wrap Cassian’s weeping fresh tattoos, even though they’ll heal fine untended. Sleeping in that too small bed, warmer, because now they can touch. 

Gentle because no one in their world is gentle, but they can learn to give that to each other.

It’s standing shoulder to shoulder under hateful eyes, stronger, the strongest, together. Earning the exact same number of siphons, undeniable. 

Cassian telling Azriel the little stories he made for the constellations he found in the summer sky as a child. Azriel reciting, carefully, the fairytales him mother told him in secret before she died, just an hour each week- of honor, of valor, of love, of Illyrians who were more than violent.

They’re family, they’re everything, and that doesn’t change when Azriel turns twenty, and the High Lord of Night calls him into service. 

One last night, the desperate strength of Cassian’s embrace, his hands shaking, always gentle. Cassian telling Az not to trust those fucking high fae, Azriel making Cas promise he’ll be here when he can come back. That he’ll live. That they’ll both live.

A year of madness, a year of learning, a year by side of a High Lord who knew every inch of his territory, feared, respected, loved across of the Court of Night and beyond.

Az takes his vows, becomes something even more fearsome. And then Rhain sends him back to Illyria, to guard the Morrigan, his personal choice for his sons future bride.

(The bidding war for Morrigan’s hand has already commenced. To send her to Autumn is, more than anything, a fuck you from one High House to the highest. Rhain is hoping his terribly romantic, dreaming young son, might just elope. Do something foolhardy and reckless that he can pretend to disapprove of, and still get what he wants.)

The Morrigan thing happens.

Azriel understands- Azriel isn’t mad at Cassian. They’ve made no promises, this cannot even begin to touch what they each other.

Azriel is mad at Morrigan.

Because she used Cassian, because she hurt Cassian, and she doesn’t care. Doesn’t begin to understand. Thinks it’s nothing because of course bright, laughing Cassian would go along, act as though being dismissed is nothing to a bastard born boy.

But it’s still his job to protect her, and he will. Azriel is resolute in his duty, the best, right up until the moment Morrigan’s father takes her home. 

The one relationship in which Azriel has no authority, that Rhain had ordered him specifically not to interfere in. 

Still, Azriel warns the High Lord.

Still, it isn’t enough, and it takes him days to find her.

He has nightmares about it for three hundred years. It changes all of them- Morrigan, a casual rebel, who’d now rather die than not escape. Azriel, from dutiful to duty incarnate, locked in ice. Cassian, to whom the world had proved that in the end, no matter how much better he was, kinder, he was still a weapon.

A few things happen in short, dangerous succession. Alyssar takes Morrigan to Sangravah to heal. Azriel disobeys several direct orders to stop Rhys from killing Cassian. 

The boys reunite, the boys mourn.

Rhys takes formal control of the Steppes.

It’s love, it’s recognition, it’s existing in the understand they will never let something like it happen again: Cassian kills Azriel’s half brothers. Azriel goes with Cassian, shrouds in unescapable and devouring darkness the camp where his Mother died. They rebury her bones.

Cassian and Azriel, shoulder to shoulder against the world. Cassian and Azriel, a promise bound if not spoken: to protect Morrigan, who they’d failed.

Cassian and Azriel, the whole sum of each others family, no matter what shape it took. 

A whole world, together, Illyrian as no one else ever was. 

[erandir]

Fic: Tender

Finished and fixed up this old unfinished ficlet for @14daysdalovers

Prompt: A Tender Caress Pairing: Rowan Tabris/Zevran Arainai (pre-relationship) Rating: T Wordcount: 2016 Summary: Rowan returns from the Deep Roads in desperate need of some TLC and a nap. Zevran provides. Or: The boys caught feelings but are too dumb to realize it.

----------

There was absolutely no sense of time in the Deep Roads. Somehow Oghren seemed to have some concept of the passage of days. As much as days had existed in Orzammar, at least, which was only in a very vague sense. But for Rowan, it had all become one endless expanse of time. A sort of eternal, infuriating twilight. All he knew was that by the time Orzammar was back in sight he was tired, aching, and he never wanted to see the Deep Roads again for as long as he lived.

They staggered out into the marketplace to the great surprise of everyone present, including the guards at the door that had all but sealed them in. Rowan hadn’t looked in a mirror for the Maker only knew how long, but if his companions were anything to judge by - Oghren, Shale, and Morrigan - he probably looked like he’d bathed fully clothed in a pool of mud, blood, and ichor. Actually, that wasn’t far from the truth.

Probably he should have gone straight to the Assembly, but he thought that if he had to deal with dwarven nobility right now on top of everything else he wouldn’t be able to restrain the urge to murder everyone in the room. And that wasn’t conducive to army recruitment. But word of their return somehow crossed the city faster than they did themselves, because as he approached the inn Alistair was coming out to meet them.

“You’re back!” Alistair enthused, then he paused when their appearance finally registered. “You look terrible. Did you find Branka at least?”

“Oh boy did we,” Rowan said. That was going to take some explanation that he did not have the energy for at the moment. He clapped a hand on Alistair’s shoulder, and then pushed past him into the inn. “I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need a bath and the strongest drink this place has.” 

The drink came first. Something thick and brown that smelled strongly of dirt and burned like fire going down his throat. It sent him into a short coughing fit, which was eased by a friendly pat on the back and a familiar accented voice commenting, “The strength of the drink here is really its only good quality.”

Zevran was a sight for sore eyes. A very handsome sight for Rowan’s very tired and sore eyes. And one look at Rowan’s haggard face prompted Zevran to signal the bartender for another round.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, voice coming out in something of a rasp as his throat attempted to recover from the first drink. The second went down no easier, but he preferred that at the moment.

“You looked as though you needed it,” Zevran replied.

“How long were we down there?” Rowan asked. Oghren had guessed at the number of days, but without Orzammar’s clocks even he hadn’t been certain. And Rowan wasn’t sure he trusted the dwarf’s judgement fully.

“More than two weeks,” Zevran replied.

“Fuck,” Rowan breathed. That long? Or only that long? The expedition had felt both shorter and longer at the same time. He’d never expected it to take so long, either. 

Zevran hummed a sound of agreement. “I will not lie, some of us were beginning to wonder if you would ever return.”

Of those that had been left behind, Alistair and Leliana didn’t seem the type to despair, Wynne was probably pragmatic enough to know a lost cause when she saw one, but was two weeks long enough? That left only Zevran and the dog. “Some of us?”

Zevran favored him with a wan smile. Caught. “I’m very glad to be wrong, in this instance.”

“Glad you were, too,” Rowan agreed. He didn’t want to die in a hellhole like that, and shuddered at the idea that someday he might have no other choice. No, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted another drink, but more than that he wanted to be clean. He pushed himself away from the bar, “I need a bath.”

He didn’t miss the way Zevran eyed him up and down, but without the usual heat behind his gaze. “You do,” he agreed, but not unkindly. “I think it will take some effort to clean up this mess, perhaps you would like some help?”

Rowan was surprised by the offer. He was filthy, and far too exhausted to do anything other than clean up and fall asleep. But he was exhausted, and Zevran had offered. “I wouldn’t say no.”

—————

Orzammar did not have baths large enough for Rowan to fit in comfortably. Still he sunk as deep into the water as he could, letting the warm water seep into the sore muscles of his arms and back. He must have looked slightly ridiculous when Zevran waltzed into the room. Only his head and knees above the water, pale skin mottled with bruises visible now that all the blood and filth was washing off.

Griffin trotted at Zevran’s side, tongue lolling from the side of his mouth and stubby tail wagging. He’d practically bowled Rowan over when he first arrived back at the room, but thankfully the Mabari’s excitement to have his master back had lessened in the past hour. 

“I’ve finally located something that claims to be soap,” Zevran announced triumphantly. 

Rowan managed an actual smile, though a small one. “Let’s have it, then,” he said, pushing himself into a proper seated position again and holding out a hand. 

Zevran produced an oblong lump of off-white lye soap. It wasn’t the prettiest thing in the world, but it would serve. As soon as the soap was in his hands, Rowan lathered up and began scrubbing at his hair, which hadn’t been free of its ponytail for at least two weeks. Almost immediately his fingers became caught in knots and mats that tugged painfully at his scalp. “Ow, shit,” he hissed, pulling his hands away delicately. “I might need a haircut.”

“No!” Zevran gasped in dismay. He knelt beside the bathtub and finally had a good look at the state of Rowan’s hair, then sighed sadly. “Ah, you have not been taking care of your lovely curls.”

“I was rather preoccupied,” Rowan told him. 

Zevran hummed softly, a sound equal parts agreement and consideration. “We may be able to save it,” he said, “But it will take some work. I’ll leave the decision with you.”

Rowan considered it. He’d had short hair before, in fact the only reason it was so long now was that he couldn’t be bothered to trim it while on the road. So he wasn’t emotionally attached to it or anything. But Zevran seemed fond of his copper ringlets when he let them down, and he’d grown rather fond of the compliments they earned him. “We can try,” he agreed eventually. “After I’ve bathed.”

“That seems wise,” Zevran agreed. “I’ll fetch my comb, and when you are clean, we will see if we can rescue your hair.”

Rowan only nodded and went back to washing himself as Zevran left once more. By the time the Crow returned he had finished scrubbing down most of his body and the bath water had turned dull reddish brown. He was still tired and sore, but he felt more alive than he had in days. He had just finished dressing when Zevran returned with more than just a comb in hand. He brandished also a brush and a pair of scissors, “In case we are not successful.”

 They settled cross-legged on the bed, Zevran behind him working the knots from his hair. It didn’t hurt as much as Rowan had expected. The assassin’s hands were surprisingly gentle, and the light tug on his scalp was somehow almost comforting.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because Rowan was next aware of waking up on the too-hard, too-short dwarven bed, blankets tangled around his legs, and the light of only a single candle to illuminate the room. He couldn’t tell what time it was, and he was really beginning to hate the way every hour bled together down here. How could the dwarves stand it?

Zevran was gone. That wasn’t a surprise. They never slept together unless they had slept together. But Rowan surprised himself by feeling disappointed. Last night - was it night? - had been unexpectedly nice, even though they had been as chaste as Chantry sisters. It had been a long time since Rowan had allowed himself to let his guard down and be that vulnerable around anyone.

It was because of the Deep Roads, he told himself as he climbed out of bed. He’d been alone in the dark for too long, starved of touch and friendship and safety.

Griffin was asleep on the floor beside the bed. Properly passed out, paws twitching as he chased squirrels in his dreams. Rowan’s stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in far too long - he’d given up on guessing at the passage of time - and he stepped carefully over the dog’s bulk. 

That’s when he noticed his armor. Before his bath, Rowan had left the leathers in a disheveled heap at the foot of the bed to be dealt with when he had the energy to do so. He knew they shouldn’t be left too long caked in filth or else risk damaging the leather irreparably, but they’d kept for 2 weeks, they would keep one day more. But now when he went to fetch his boots and something more substantial than his underclothes to get breakfast in, he discovered the armor had been moved. 

Each piece had been laid out across the room’s low stone table, and some of it had been cleaned already. His sword and offhand dagger were sitting atop their scabbards polished and, a quick test with his thumb confirmed, sharpened. The worst of the filth on his armor had been wiped off, with attention to the joints and rivets that risked rusting or weakening, but the leather itself was still in need of a good oiling before he had to face anyone important. His boots had been cleaned of caked on mud and then polished to a shine that almost disguised how old and beat up they were.

That sight alone was enough to tell Rowan who had gone to all this effort for him. Zevran. But why? This must have taken him hours, which gave Rowan and indication of how long he'd been asleep, but why would he go out of his way like this. A little bit of tidying up he might understand, but this was beyond that. And this was on top of everything Zevran had done for him before Rowan passed out. Passed out while having his hair brushed like a child. He would have expected Zevran to be annoyed, not to have tucked him into bed like an invalid and then spent the next few hours making sure his gear was in proper working order. 

It didn't make any sense. 

They'd slept together, yes, plenty of times. They were friends outside the bedroom, too. He even trusted Zevran with his life in a fight. But to have someone else take care of his weapons and armor was oddly intimate. 

Everything about the night before had been oddly intimate, he realized. Now that his brain was awake and properly rested he realized that Zevran’s behavior of the night before had been unusual. There was no way he could have expected Rowan capable of anything other than passing out immediately after getting clean. So it definitely hadn’t been innuendo when he’d offered his assistance. He’d just genuinely wanted to help? That seemed so out of character.

Rowan’s stomach chose that moment to remind him loudly of how empty it was. He shook thoughts of Zevran out of his head and reached for his boots. There would be plenty of time to puzzle out the Crow’s motives when he had food in his stomach and the political mess was finally dealt with. For now, he had work to do.

[nobloodneeded]

me drawing fan art and writing background hcs of my latest Warden? Couldn’t be.

Name: Rylan Amell

Orientation: Gay, switch. As a shameless flirt, often people are shocked that he is only attracted to men. He likes to casually drop such a fact into conversation and revel mischievously in the shocked or scandalized reactions. 

Notable moments:

- The time he ran out of mana and lyrium potions and was chased up a tree by a bear that turned out to be a Sylvan in the Brecilian Forest. 

- He and Alistair told Leliana they were all going to jump into Lake Calenhad off the dock together, but on the count of three as Leliana leaped in, they planted their feet so she was the only one who got wet. The two slept in shifts in the same tent that night, but it was worth it. 

- He once drank Oghren under the table at camp only because while the beserker downed his mug, he would throw the drink over his shoulder. Oghren admired Rylan highly after this and boasted about his defeat in good humor while the rest of the party could only bemusedly shake their heads.

- Weeks of Sten muttering to himself new names for the group in Qunlat, Rylan answered him back in the same tongue because he had an affinity for learning languages in the Circle. Similarly, when Zevran got passionate about a topic he would switch to Antivan and it took the assassin a moment to realize Rylan had been carrying a conversation in his native language.

- After the explosion of the Chantry, Hawke and Anders fled Kirkwall as fugitives and set off to find Warden-Commander Rylan; as the Champion’s long-lost relative and the man who conscripted Anders. Rylan and Zevran at the time were on the search for the cure to the Calling. When they had found the two, after pulling them into a warm hug, Rylan joked, “If YOU’RE the gay cousin, and I’M the gay cousin, who’s steering the cart?!” 

Major relationships: 

- Best friend: Alistair.

Alistair had become a true brother-in-arms and kindred spirit.Their shared dislike for the templar order, sense of justice, and deflecting their pain with humor forged them as fast friends. The two were seldom seen apart, commiserating their woes or pulling pranks at camp. A sound more common in the camp than the Mabari’s howls were the chortles of Rylan and Alistair. 

He was there to pick the pieces of Alistair's heart when he met Goldanna and, tired of seeing his friend mistreated, chose to harden him. Rylan believed in Alistair and after Anora's betrayal - though he appreciated what she had done for the people of Ferelden - he did not trust her to rule alone. The two remained incredibly close throughout the years. 

Upon finding the cure, Rylan’s first stop was to Denerim.

- Romanced: Zevran; immediate infatuation on sight.

Rylan’s first thought upon seeing him was "He's the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on." It took restraint not to brush the silky blond hair away from his would-be assassin's face. Fighting it was futile, the moments he tried Zevran only tried harder. He would attempt to keep distance by moving Alistair, Morrigan, or other party members in between them. Once, Zevran tripped himself and, while the others continued, Rylan helped the rogue who locked eyes and said, "Well, it looks like I've fallen for you, my dear Warden." 

Rylan had only ever experienced superficial carnal releases in the Circle, as everyone knew love was a weapon to be used against you on a whim. He was content that sex was all it as ever going to be; like Zevran, he had known nothing else. 

He had begun to dip his toes into the pool of this rogue's companionship and soon found the water had come up to his neck. It wasn't long before he was drowning in this new feeling; a painful euphoria that burned and ached in his chest. He adored the way Zev's tongue rolled over the R in his name as he moaned it and his charming sense of humor. He loved the way his hair fell across his face in the mornings and the way he arched his back against Rylan's front for more contact in the night. He enjoyed the sensation of his thumb gently massaging circles into the flat Zev’s ear. He began to see signs of reciprocation when Zevran's usually lustful sidelong glances softened at their corners as he looked on in longing instead. 

Having come to terms with his own feelings, when Zevran offered the earring, Rylan initially declined unless it meant something real. The second time the earring was given, after Zevran had reconciled the sincerity of his feelings, Rylan reached to place a comforting hand on the assassin's shoulder. He clumsily lost his balance and tipped forward. Zev's quick reflexes failed him as he tried to catch his partner, who fell down to one knee and spoke softly, "Well, it looks like I have fallen for you, my dear Crow." Zevran laughed heartily and pulled Rylan up to share a passionate kiss. The next day, Rylan had a sore ear and a soaring heart as he wore the earring with pride. 

Once the battle of the Archdemon was won, the two were inseparable. Aside from quick forays and jobs that took Zevran across Thedas, he always returned to his Warden and dutifullly traveled with him to find a cure for his Calling. 

Dark Ritual: Performed. 

Rylan was incredibly conflicted over this decision. Morrigan's confession came like a physical blow to his stomach. He knew he could never ask Alistair to do this; as a bastard himself, per Morrigan's pact and their distaste for each other, it would mean forcing him to sire what he hated being himself. 

Rylan had never thought of siring a child, never dreamt it or wanted it. He saw what happened to babies born from the Circle and as a gay man his only course of action would have been adoption - and the Templars barely let mages have autonomy of themselves, let alone their children. 

It seemed initially like an easy decision: sex in order to save your life, even if it was with a woman. However, it wasn't just sex. He would be fathering a child - a child whose mother explicitly forbade his involvement. He would be forced to abandon his own child, one he never anticipated, but would exist nonetheless. 

He thought then to Zevran, the man he loved and who loved him in return. He knew to save the heart of his beloved, he had to do this. Thoughts of the babe plagued him after the battle. He searched high and low for Morrigan's trail after things in Amaranthine had settled. His goal was to get closure from his friend who had stolen away immediately after the Archdemon was felled. He let her go, in the end. She did not need him around, he would not have gone; he wished her and their son all the luck in the world. 

For years, Rylan would write letter upon letter and Zevran would watch as he crumpled each with a mixture of frustration and regret. Ten years had passed, Leliana and Zevran reignited communication through dealings with the Inquisition. Business aside, she sent word that a familiar apostate graced Skyhold with a strapping young lad, who though well-behaved, had a familiarly mischievous glint in his eye. Attached to the correspondence was a sketch of the boy. Without a word, for none could encapsulate the myriad of thoughts on the subject of his son, he placed the drawing in a locket Zevran had snatched off a target long past. Rylan never went without it again.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Heskan Aeducan as a Companion

(Face Claim: Can Yaman) - Okay, I really wanted to do this because Heskan is basically the hot romanceable dwarf we’d all deserve in Inquisition. He uses the Dwarf Noble Origin and has the Spirit Warrior specialization, using it as an archer.

Hope y’all like him! Feel free to romance him, haha!

Inquisitor’s Name: Heskan “Hess” Aeducan

Race, Class, & Specialization: Dwarf Archer Warrior (Spirit Warrior)

Varric’s Nickname for them: Feathers

Default Tarot Card: The Chariot

How they are recruited: He joins automatically if you talk to him at the gate leading to the bridge in Skyhold; a cutscene triggers where he and Leliana are speaking and she vouches for his skill and he offers aid to the Inquisition.

Where they are in Skyhold: Aiming his bow over the battlements, taking potshots at trees in the distance.

Things they Generally Approve of: Pragmatic options, manipulating nobles, recruiting prisoners

Things they Generally Disapprove of: Letting prisoners go, executing them, dismissing Sera from the Inquisition, hitting Solas or Dorian

Mages, Templars, Other?: Heskan comes from Orzammar, and is really tired of having to deal with this whole surface conflict, especially as darkspawn get closer and closer to overrunning his people. That said, he prefers the mages. Templars he doesn’t trust.

Romanceable?: Yes, by any gender or race.

Friends in the Inquisition: Cole, Vivienne, and Iron Bull - Heskan and Varric have a not-quite-friendly rivalry.

Small side mission: Run around Skyhold collecting a stray arrow each time you return to Skyhold. 9 arrows altogether, every 3 arrows earns you a Heskan Greatly Approves.

Companion quest: Heskan wants to know if he is accessing the Fade through his Spirit Warrior specialization and asks the Inquisitor and Cole to help him, sleeping in front of them so they can test it. Cole mentions that Heskan is actually afraid of finding out the truth. After he wakes up, the Inquisitor has two options. Neither option impacts the ability to romance him.

Option 1: Lie and say no. This will net Disapproval from Solas and Approval from Cole and Heskan. Heskan seems relieved to learn that he is not upending all the rules for dwarfs and talking to him later reveals he is a little concerned because he’s been getting fragments of dreams, but nothing else comes of this. 

Option 2: Tell the truth. This will net Slight Disapproval from Cole and Great Approval from Heskan. Heskan admits that the idea of breaking all the rules for dwarfs and magic is frightening, but he is thrilled to consider this (if a Dwarven Inquisitor replies they feel the same way, they can earn extra approval). Talking to him later reveals that he has come to terms with accessing the Fade and he wants to attempt speaking with the spirit he has bonded with.

Tarot card change

Option 1: The Chariot (reversed)

Option 2: Knight of Pentacles

Cole’s reflection on their thoughts: “The smile should not have to be my mask, but it serves its purpose, bright and blinding as I bleed from the wounds in my back.”

Comment(s) on Mages: “Poor sods. I’d be pretty tired too if someone shut me up in a tower all my life and didn’t let me breathe wrong.”

Comment(s) on Templars: “We trade these people lyrium and we don’t care where it goes... but seeing what happens to them... I wonder if it’s worth it.”

When looking for something: “Did somebody hear that?”

When finding a campsite: “Care to kick up your feet for a while, Inquisitor?”

When the Inquisitor Falls: “Hurry, save the Inquisitor!”

When they are low on Health: “Hello? Archer needing help over here?”

When they see a Dragon: “You’re gonna go fight that thing, aren’t you?

Default saying: “Sort of brisk out here, isn’t it?”

Travel Banter with Canon Companions of your choice:

Heskan: So, Varric. Varric: (Sighs) Hello, Feathers. Heskan: You don’t like me much, do you? Varric: One handsome dwarf archer is enough for a good story. You’re a bit superfluous. Heskan: Don’t spare my feelings or anything...

Vivienne: Tell me, Prince Aeducan. What are you doing on the surface? Heskan: Madame Vivienne, please. You may call me Prince Heskan. Varric (if present): (Disgusted noise.) Vivienne: That wasn’t an answer, Prince Heskan. Heskan: No... no it wasn’t.

Heskan: Varric? Varric: (Sighs) What is it, Feathers? Heskan: Oh, I apologize. You must be trying to find a way to describe me other than “exceptionally ugly.” Varric: So you read The Tale of the Champion, huh? Heskan: If anything, I’d say that only one of us uses chest hair to distract from our sorry faces. Varric: “Hideously ugly and arrogant” it is, then. Heskan: Lazy writing!

Cole (after Heskan’s personal quest is complete and he is told the truth): She says hello. Heskan: She? She who? Cole: I don’t know... she’s you. (if made more human) I used to see her better. Heskan: Oh. Could you... could you tell her thank you? Cole: She knows. Heskan: Thank you, Cole.

Friendship?: “Hello there, love. Miss me?”

Leaving the Inquisition: “I’m not fond of the way you’re running things here. If you don’t shape up, I’d rather be sucked up into the Fade than hang around here.”

The Fade

How they react: “Well... this is different. Not sure I should really be here, actually.” Their Tombstone: Betrayal What the Fears look like: His dead brother Trian What the Nightmare says: “Ah, the murderer-Prince of Orzammar. Have they forgiven you for killing your brother yet? Or do you think they’re waiting for the right time to strike?” Their reflection about the Fade: "Yeah, I’m not so sure I enjoyed that.” Hawke or Warden: Has worked with both, Disapproves if Hawke or Alistair is left behind. Greatly Approves if Loghain is left behind. Approves if Stroud is left behind.

The Wardens

Their feelings: Respects the Wardens, being a veteran of the Fifth Blight and working with the Hero.  Exile or Allies?: Allies

The Ball

How they feel: “Smile, love. We’ve got a role to play here, so stay guarded.” Where they linger: Outside the door to Gaspard’s balcony Are they good at the Game?: Very much so. What people say about them: “Oh, that dwarven Prince is such a good dancer!” “Tall for a dwarf, isn’t he?” Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Prefers Briala through Gaspard

Temple of Mythal

Rituals or Hole?: Hole Agree with the Elves’ bargain?: Agree. Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: Morrigan

Comments on Canon Romance

Cassandra: “Personally, the Seeker frightens me. But if you’ve chosen each other, I can tell she’ll be true.” Dorian: “Treat him well, Inquisitor. He’s been through enough in his life, I can tell.” Sera: “Hah, fun for all, eh? She’s a firecracker, she is.”  Iron Bull: “Heh, he’s a fun one. If you two weren’t together...” Josephine: “Ah, Lady Montilyet. A fine woman indeed. You’re lucky, Inquisitor. They don’t come much sharper than her.” Cullen: “Ah, I’ve met Cullen a few times before. He’s... he’s a better man than I once knew, I’ll say that.” Blackwall: “I’m definitely not qualified to judge. But he’ll treat you right, Inquisitor.” Solas: “Well, to each their own.”

Sexual/Racial preference: Panromantic. Any race.

Nickname for PC: My sweet

Romance only mission: Heskan asks the Inquisitor to accompany him to Valammar, where he has heard rumors of trouble brewing. The party is ambushed by Endrin loyalists who want Heskan dead for the alleged killing of his brother ten years ago. Afterwards, Heskan explains the details of his murky past, including why he killed his brother, and how he has always had to look over his shoulder. Choosing the dialogue response “Maybe I could look for you” locks in the romance, and Heskan expresses awe and joy that their casual flirting actually meant something.

Dialog to being asked for a kiss: “How could I refuse you, my sweet?”

Halamshiral dialog: “Just keep up that pretty smile of yours, my sweet. I promise I’ll put a real one on your face once the party’s over.”

Being asked to dance during mission: “As much as you want. Once this business with the Empress is over, of course.”

Asking to dance post-mission: “Come here... you’ve done so well tonight. If I can help you relax... I am honored.”

What Cole says about companion to PC: “The smile... it used to be false. Fake, fleeting, like feathers in the wind. But now... he is safe, secure...his sweet is here.”

Who is concerned about the relationship?: Varric, Cullen

Who supports the relationship?: Josephine, Leliana, Vivienne, Dorian

Who had a bet running on it?: Blackwall, Iron Bull, Sera

Banter(between NPCs):

Varric: So... you and the Inquisitor? Heskan: Ha, I never figured you for the jealous type, Varric. Varric: I - that’s... ugh.

Vivienne: A well-made match, my dear Prince. I congratulate you. Heskan: For once, Madame, I was not considering politics. Vivienne: Nonsense. Matters of the heart are just as political as anything else. Heskan: (chuckles) I suppose that on that count, we agree.

Iron Bull: So, are you a one-lover dwarf, or can I expect you again? Heskan: Why, Bull, you know I’ll never forget that magical night... Sera (if present): Ewww! How would that... oh. Fingers. Heskan: BUt in any event, you’d have to ask my sweet one. (The Inquisitor can respond favorably or unfavorably) Favorably Inquisitor: You could... if you don’t mind my presence. Iron Bull: The more the merrier! Heskan: My sweet, the Bull makes an excellent footrest. I’ll have to show you... Unfavorably Inquisitor: Sorry, Bull. He’s mine. Heskan: And I need no other lover. 

Flirt options: Upon meeting (gains Slight Disapproval from Varric), and at almost every interaction. Flirting with him enough unlocks his romance quest without needing to gain higher approval

Break up dialog:

If PC breaks it off: “I understand. It was fun while it lasted, though, eh? I’ll see you around, my - er, Inquisitor.”

If NPC breaks it off(and why): “I... I can’t condone what you’re doing, my sweet. I wish it could be different. I wish I could help you... but I cannot.” (Low Approval breaks off the romance)

Love confession: Heskan takes the Inquisitor walking along the battlements. “I... I never really thought I would find anyone who truly cared... but with you... I feel safe. I feel like... I could be happy.” The Inquisitor can flirt with him, which leads to a sex scene and lazy kissing in the Inquisitor’s bedroom, or say they love him, which leads to him pulling them to him with his bow string and kissing them deeply. “Then I am yours as long as you will have me, my sweet.” In either event, the Inquisitor can ask for a kiss or ask to “take a long walk,” which will result in a brief implied sex cutscene with a shirtless Heskan leaning over to kiss the Inquisitor in their bed.

Romanced tarot card: King of Pentacles

End game dialog: “You’ve done it. Beaten the villain, slain the dragon. I wish I could tell you it gets easier from here... but no matter what, I will be at your side, my sweet. Always.”