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heniareth · 3 years ago

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But what if Nelaros had survived.

If Tabris is recruited into the Grey Wardens, he comes with!

Now he just has to survive the Joining (if he becomes a Grey Warden, but Duncan probably would have to recruit him too if the guards learn that he was involved in Vaughan's death)

And Ostagar

And every single freaking quest including the Deep Roads themselves

Nelaros with the trap-maker skill and his blacksmithing knowledge, fixing armor and weapons, maybe helping the rogues and finding new ways to apply poison to weapons which are quicker, waste less poison and are safer for the wielder

Nelaros seeing more of the world than he ever has, and it's so big and beautiful and dangerous.

His honest heart and friendly nature gain him friends among the companions. Alistair helps him hone his skills with the blade; him and Zevran discuss the differences and nuances of Fereldan and Antivan courtships in depth; he is fascinated by Morrigan's magic; he asks Leliana about Orlais, Wynne about life in the Circle, Sten about the Qun (he's had a taste of the wider world and wants more); he adapts weapons for Shale and steals Oghren's drink from time to time

Romance with the companions would be a.... topic to discuss

Tabris and him are technically married. Or engaged (the wedding was interrupted, they never said any vows). What do they do? What do they want? They fought through Denerim and through Ostagar together; where does that put them in relation to each other?

Either way, imagine: the fiercest battle couple/comrade in arms you've ever seen

They made their way through an arl's palace with stolen weapons and armor, two untrained elves who probably had a little too few meals in their lifetime, and they made it out alive

Literally nothing is gonna stop them

Making quick work on the slavers that dared to threaten their people. They rescued Shianni, they do the same for Cyrion

Standing side by side before the Landsmeet, before the nobles who stood by as the alienage was purged, the Blight swept through and slavers ran rampant, and knowing that they killed one of them at the start of their adventure and could proceed through the whole Landsmeet if necessary

Oh, and by the by, the Dark Ritual has potential new warden to complete it (:

Amd finally, the Archdemon. One sacrifices themselves; or they both survive yet again. Either way, there's gonna be tears.

After the battle of Denerim, provided he has survived, he tells Cyrion, Soris and Shianni everything about his adventures. He helps either Alistair or Tabris or both sort through the aftermath of the battle, deal with the ceremonies and get the best deal out of the new ruler's gratitude. He might not call the Denerim alienage home, but it's an alienage and he's an elf and he'll be damned if things don't get better after all of this.

Even so, he stays with the Grey Wardens. After travelling the length and width of Ferelden, the walls that encase the alienage seem terribly confining in comparison. There are more darkspawn to kill, the Grey Wardens need more recruits and capable leadership... and maybe Tabris is still around and they'll be able to share this chapter of their lives as well.

Or Tabris could tell the Denerim guards he wasn't involved and tell Nelaros to sit his pretty self down and to look after her family for her

And Nelaros does

He endures the hostility their neighbours direct at him and Sodis for antagonizing the humans

He defends the Alienage and the same neighbours that threw stones at him when the humans come with torches and swords (they are here because of him after all, says a voice in the back of his mind). He runs into a burning building to drag somebody out (he knows his way around fire thanks to his work at the forge). He gets one or two kids out of the orphanage and is devastated that he couldn't save more of them.

He watches Soris and Valora grow fond of each other and thinks back to the girl he went searching for and who fought by his side through a heavily guarded palace

News of the defeat at Ostagar get to Denerim and they hold a funeral for her

He supports Cyrion as best he can, looks for work, brings home money and food and medicine when they need it. He's doing it for her (and, slowly, he becomes part of the family)

He still thinks about Highever and his family there. He writes a lot of letter

Then the Blight comes. There have been plagues in the alienage before and Valendrian takes the necessary precautions. Nelaros might be able to contribute some information of interest; after all, life in the Highever alienage is rougher than in Denerim and they surely have seen plagues aplenty

When the slavers take Valendrian, everything descends into chaos. Nelaros tries to help. Valora is the next to be taken, then Cyrion. He finally goes to the Tevinter mages to see what is going on and promptly gets caged as well

He's lucky; he waited long enough before snooping around to still be there when the fabled Hero of Ferelden shows up

It turns out to be Tabris

The surprise is immense; the reunion is probably awkward (even if she's not in a romance with a companion, she's definitely not the same person he met a year ago). But all that has to be resolved quickly or be put aside because of the Blight

He helps fill her in on what happened during her absence; maybe she asks him to accompany her to the Landsmeet to accuse Loghain

Never before in Ferelden's history have two elves stirred up a Landsmeet like these two

Afterwards, Nelaros decides to be bold and asks for an audience with the new ruler. He explains the situation in the alienage and beseeches them to help change it. It might not amount to much, it might not even yield any results, but he had to try (his determination impresses the ruler. They will remember this elf)

He helps Shianni defend the alienage during the battle of Denerim. If he doesn't fall, he helps rebuild, put out fire, tend to the injured (he also tries to establish conversation with the Dailish elves that have helped defend the city. While not all of them are very receptive, their keeper is more than happy to join forces with the city elves to prevent more people from dying in the aftermath of the battle)

In the end, however, the Denerim alienage is no longer what it once was. A lot of people are leaving. The question presents itself: should he stay and help rebuild, go back to Highever or join Tabris (if she hasn't died) on her future journey? The question has no easy answer: he has come to love the Tabris family; the new ruler contacted him again about the business with the slavers and better living conditions for Denerim's elves; the kids he saved from the massacre at the orphanage look to him for a father figure. In the end, he stays. He's needed here, he has the chance to make a difference, he's happy; and, if Tabris is willing, he can wait for her a little longer

#nelaros #i've been thinking about this man lately #he deserves a what if fanfic even if it's written in bulletpoints #i'm convinced my tabris would have fallen head over heels for him #he seems like such a good guy #in his own right #da:o #dao #da: o #dragon age origins #dragon age #dragon age headcanon #dragon age headcanons #warden tabris #female tabris #tabris #da: origins

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syrupwit · 2 years ago

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Hello! I’d love to see the “Telling scary stories that turn out to be real” prompt for the Origins or Awakening crew!

Hey, thank you so much for this! I've been holding onto this prompt because I love it a lot. In keeping with what I believe to be the spirit of dadwc, here's an incomplete but not incoherent first draft attempt. :-)

Under the cut, please find ~1000 words of the Awakening crew, with minor Anders/Nathaniel Howe, for @dadrunkwriting.

(This is set in the same AU as a longer Anders/Nate fic I've written, caveat emptor!, but reading that fic is not necessary to understand what's going on here. Just know that they're married, for reasons, and there's an Orlesian Warden-Commander.)

Winter storms had come to the arling of Amaranthine, and the inhabitants of Vigil’s Keep were trapped inside. As they gathered by a hearth together one cold night, with the wind howling outside, the Wardens agreed as one that they would tell stories to pass the time.

They made a cozy, if ragtag, tableau. On one end was Sigrun, sat as close to the flames as possible. On the other end was Justice, whose armor still had frost clinging to it, and who had claimed for himself the coldest spot that the fire’s light still hit. Warden-Commander Caron sat about halfway between the two of them, wrapped in furs and drinking deeply from a cup of mulled wine.

Oghren sat at the Warden-Commander’s back; Velanna sat across the hearth from Sigrun; and Nathaniel Howe and Anders sat a little off from the others, draped around each other like a big pair of cats. Ser Pounce-a-lot, a regular-sized cat, lay curled up before the hearth, dozing. Everyone but Oghren and the cat had cups of wine.

“Velanna,” said the Warden-Commander. She was flush-cheeked from her wine and over-solicitous. “Is there anything from that journal of yours that you’d care to share? You’ve been writing a lot lately.”

“I suppose,” said Velanna guardedly.

“If your stories are only for the Dalish, that’s fine. You don’t need to show us.”

“No, there are one or two that I might share”—she was becoming flustered under the attention— “but it would have to be the right moment. And the right mood.”

“Ooh!” said Sigrun. “Velanna’s been writing dirty stories. Look, she’s gone red.”

“I have not, dwarf! Why is that where your mind goes?”

Nathaniel cut in. “I have a story to tell, if Velanna wants time to prepare hers.”

“A dirty story?” said Oghren, sluggishly but with more interest than he had displayed all evening. He had now been sober for nine days, following an especially regrettable turn at the ale cask, and everyone was a little scared that he’d explode or something. It was his longest attempt at sobriety that they had witnessed.

“What is wrong with you all?” said Velanna.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with you perverts?” said Anders. “Nate’s terrible at telling that kind of story. Trust me.” He kissed Nathaniel’s ear, then tucked his chin in the crook of his neck, winding his arms around him more tightly.

These gestures of affection failed to pacify Nathaniel. “It’s not a dirty story, and I’d thank you to show a little more loyalty, Anders.”

“You love me for my honesty, come on—”

“I’d like to hear your story, Nathaniel,” the Warden-Commander interrupted.

“Of course, Commander,” said Nathaniel; and after further ado, but not much of it, he began.

STORY OF THE WITCH OF AMARANTHINE

When I was a young boy, and we went to Amaranthine, there was a woman there who everyone knew was a witch. I don’t mean the one who sold the largest apples in the marketplace; it was only my boyish fancy that took her for a witch, and while I was afraid that she might one day steal my head and turn it into an apple to then be sold, these were not fears I voiced aloud.

The witch of Amaranthine lived in a small and shabby cottage in the outer part of town. I saw her only once, early in the morning when we were leaving the city. She had wild white hair that sprung from her head like a mass of spun wool, uncombed, and there was madness in the bright eyes that peered from deep within her leathered face. It wasn't a face I'll forget, I'll tell you that.

Everyone knew she was a witch. Children ran from her path. Drunks refused to pass by her home, even when it was on the way to their own. Thieves and criminals didn’t bother her, and the Chantry left her alone—the Reverend Mother believed the old woman to be a harmless, misunderstood fool, and would hear nothing else from any Templar. The witch, I believe she just wanted to be left to her business. But one day a man came to Amaranthine who had no respect for the witch.

I don’t remember what he came there for, or where he came from. Perhaps he was a smuggler, or a maleficar, or any sort of person plying any sort of trade that is generally frowned on by people who follow laws. My memory gives me scraps—he lived on wine and oysters, he refused to misuse our Lady’s name and once attacked someone for doing so in front of him, he had a silver hoop through his lip—but I can’t tell what is real and what I’ve embellished or imagined. But he threatened the witch with some consequence unless she paid him. And she did not pay him.

He came to collect one night. No one heard anything; it was a quiet night, her neighbors said, even as quiet as the witch usually was. The next day, the man was gone, the witch was gone, and the witch’s cottage was gone. The ground where the cottage had been was left bare, the foundations gone as if they had been lifted away, no sign of whatever fateful confrontation had taken place except a large bloody stain on the earth. And, though it has been planted over now, the stain remains, the soil there still red at least a foot deep.

There was a quiet moment at the end of Nathaniel’s tale, or half of one, at least. Then:

“Yawn,” said Sigrun. “Boring!”

“I’d like to hear you do better,” said Nathaniel.

Sigrun took a swig of her wine and wiped her mouth on her sleeve vehemently, as if she meant to intimidate him. She flashed a grin at Velanna, who gave her a quizzical look in response. “Oh, I will.”

“I want to go after Sigrun,” said Anders. “I’ve just remembered a tale that will knock you all flat on your backs.” Oghren grumbled something that wasn’t worth repeating, and the Warden-Commander laughed.

Across the room, Justice stirred, as if his memory had been jogged as well.

[Up next: Sigrun’s story! Anders’ story! Justice creeps everyone out with his story! Oghren contributes the saddest tale! The Warden-Commander has a very short but punchy one! And Velanna, at some point, manages to get a word in edgewise, and maybe a few more after that.]

#anders-did-nothing-wrong #dadwc #dadwc fill

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badartxd · 2 years ago

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for yara i'd like to ask

🎭 performance art/acting, 🍺 alcohol tolerance, and 👊 fighting (with or without magic)

Ohoho! Thank u for the asks!! >:D

🎭 Performance/Acting - I’d give her a solid 4. The funny thing is that while Yara can’t lie for shit and isn’t particularly good at, well, *acting*, she does have an almost uncanny ability to mimic voices and accents. The negative to this is that sometimes she does so unintentionally. Another unexpected bonus comes from her just… not being particularly easy to read if you don’t know her, so it’s equally confusing to tell if she’s lying or telling the truth most times.

Also, she does sing, but idk if it goes here.

🍺 Alcohol tolerance - so…. That’s like a 9. While Yara doesn’t *like* drinking (she’s seen a few too many comrades go down from poisoning and diminished coordination), living with a bandit group from a young age did end up giving her quite the tolerance.

…….what I’m saying is she would try to outdrink Oghren at least once😅

👊Fighting - I think at some point in time I’d give her fighting a 9 or a 10, given that she’d fought Darkspawn, animals, and other humans for a living, but after her trauma I’d give her an 8, with some days being 5s or even 4s. She’s still a great fighter, both physically and with her magic, but her stamina had gone down significantly, so she’s most effective with very short range opponents.

As for the 4 and 5 days, she would try her darnedest to not let anyone know. Ever. I think it would take a while until someone saw her slip up.

The ask game in question:

#badart rambles #my oc #oc #oc:yara #ask!!#lore #thank u so much for the ask!! >:D #Yara lore

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kiivg · 4 years ago

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.I decided to just go with my three heroes instead of like all my dragon age romances because I’ve got someone for Blackwall, Gaspard, and I’ve got a mind for someone with Dorian too. Then I’ve got a whole load of OC x OC as well, and trying to draw all of them would be time consuming. However! During drawing this, I realised that, technically, Andrastopher, Anders, Marcus, and Zevran, have all slept with one another. Whether that’s between two people or more just depends on when in the timeline haha…. ,’:)c.

.Anyway there’s some things about my Heroes and their love interests below :), thank you for asking! I’m always excited to talk about my OCs.

...

.Andrastopher and Zevran’s relationship starts out as quite a basic thing. Something that’s not talked about in camp or on any of their journeys, but everyone knows it’s happening. On Andrastopher’s side, it’s something to make him forget for a little while, something to take his mind of everything that’s happening to him. Zevran, after all, offers this to him as more of an incentive to keep him alive knowing that Andrastopher most likely will end up killing him. Something that Andrastopher wasn’t exactly quiet about, he did actually plan on presenting Zevran’s head to Arl Howe at some point.

.Of course, everything changes with the course of time. Fighting beside one another in such dangerous situations, it was bound to leave them closer than before. They save each other’s lives, they tend one another’s wounds, and one night, Andrastopher doesn’t slink back to his own tent with a satisfied hum in his belly and stays curled around the other man. There’s a tenderness that blooms between them both, and what was not talked about before, is shown more and more openly.

.Zevran, I think, falls in love with Andrastopher before Andrastopher falls in love with him. He’s too broken to glue himself back together long enough to even think about such a thing. It probably doesn’t help that Zevran had started off by complimenting him on his looks above anything else, and Andrastopher knows he’s a weird looking man; more of a curiosity than a crush to anyone who looks at him. Anything Zevran had said after that was taken with the knowledge that the man would be lying.

.By the end of the blight, something that Andrastopher had hoped to die in, he’d found a reason to live again. Completing Morrigan’s ritual was a risk to take, but one he did so willingly so he could waken next to Zevran another day. However odd their beginnings were, neither man was willing to see the other one gone.

.After the blight, Andrastopher struggles with everything he knows. There’s no place for him in the world, and he cannot hide in Zevran’s arms as if there is nothing wrong. He takes a year to himself, sacrificing himself to the Qun, accepting that he needed a restriction in being who he was meant to be. It was a hard time apart, but the reunion was a sweet one. Though time and work takes them apart for perhaps months at a time, they remain loyal to one another. They marry at some point, a small thing which really only included the pair themselves, a chantry Mother, and Oghren who was both amused and embarrassed about it all.

.To this day they remain together, and regrets have been spoken about how they had initially started out. Andrastopher knows he should have treated Zevran better, something the man has forgiven him for over and over throughout their years.

...

.Marcus and Anders’ relationship was in-game the rivalmance because it’s so much more delicious than the basic romance. But, in my mind, it’s different.

.They start off butting heads in Kirkwall, Marcus needs Anders’ help, and Anders’ needs Marcus’ help. The idea of anything between them isn’t really on the table at the time since Marcus has been spending his time between Meeran’s legs more often than not. They both find each other insufferable for a variety of reasons; Marcus is egotistic, narcissistic, overtly cocky, and spends most of his time either fighting or fucking or playing that ridiculous lute he won in the Hanged Man. Whilst Marcus thinks Anders’ fight has been blown to unrealistic proportions, and he’s championing something that can be overcome easily enough, the man has a hero complex that grates on his nerves. Marcus is a Fereldan apostate who lives freely, and he can’t understand why people don’t just escape from the circle; his father did easily enough.

.After the Deep Roads expedition, coming home after eating nothing but mushrooms and drinking rock water for weeks, just to return to Carver’s newfound templar job really makes him rethink his attitude in Kirkwall. Marcus becomes openly supportive of the Templars, he has no choice; Carver’s relation to a mage has him under valiant watch, and though money helps, Marcus has to be on his best behaviour. Being seen with Anders can only damage his reputation, but they had kissed in that foggy desperation in the Deep Roads, not that they’d spoken of it, but it remains a memory that tasted sweet despite their breath.

.Marcus spends most of his time in the Blooming Rose in the next few years, wealth and desire letting him flaunt his time in rented beds. Anders yet plays on his mind, pulling him back time after time whenever he hears the man needs his help. They fight and disagree, snapping with magic curling in their fingertips. Anders feels like Marcus is betraying the very core of himself; denying that he’s a mage in every positive song he sings of the Templars. He hates the man with an intensity that boils over in the need to return to that time in the Deep Roads; when mages and templars didn’t matter, and the once fat Fereldan apostate gave away his shares of tasteless fungi to the mage who knew how to heal wounds. They fight and kiss, biting at each other with teeth and nails, and it is Marcus who storms away; burning with confusion and singed footsteps, and awaiting a visitor at the end of the night.

.When things get particularly bad, Marcus gives in to Anders’ way of thinking, apologising for what they had been through over the years. He gives him a key to the Hawke estate. It’s a safe place to hide, a safe place to smuggle mages in and out. He warns him on Carver’s inclusion, Marcus can’t be seen helping; it would only come back upon his brother and he’s not willing to risk such a thing.

.Anders stops by the estate more and more, and the animosity between them settles into something of a comfort. The man is there when Leandra is killed, he is there to stop him from killing Merrill just a few nights after, he is there to drag him home from the Blooming Rose when he drinks too much to remember where he lives. Marcus knows he doesn’t deserve any of it, and he is selfish when he kisses Anders for the first time in years, selfish when he tries to drag him into bed, selfish when he asks him to stay the night. Marcus’ rise to Viscount is the only thing that keeps Anders safe, and is the only reason that Anders is able to be smuggled from Kirkwall after the explosion.

.It’s a year and a half before they see each other again. Justice has been calmed over the months, and Marcus’ attempts at keeping Kirkwall sane had slowly been overthrown by a group of zealots. A mage couldn’t hold position for any longer, and he had no choice but to flee. He’d spent six months building a home for himself in the ruins of Lothering, and he welcomes Anders with laughter and disbelief when he sees the man again. Years had passed since they had first met in Darktown, but seeing Marcus with a small herd and a weight settling in his gut, it’s the most real he’s ever been.

.They settle together, never intending for it to be permanent. But there is a loneliness that could only be combatted together, and when mages begin to find them it’s hard not to fall in love with one another when they work to rebuild what was once lost. A small village sprouts around them, mages seeking safety and succour found under the guidance of a heavy stranger named Conchobhar, and that taller fellow named Jarl.

...

.Goddard and Yetta’s relationship isn’t actually an in-game thing, since he’s seventy-one at the beginning of Inquisition, and like what options do I ever have apart from making him a sugar daddy (I missed a thing there for sure AH), so I gave him a wife called Yetta.

.Essentially, it’s an arranged marriage for them. Which begins terribly, because neither want to marry the other; Goddard is still holding out hope that he will find his first love again, and Yetta was betrothed to him since she was a child so she’s never had a choice. Their wedding is awkward, Goddard tries to convince his little brother, Milward, to take his place, and Yetta is caught trying to escape from the actual event. Goddard also turns up in Orlesian finery in an attempt to insult Yetta’s family and to remind them that he spent a good few years in bed with a chevalier. It works, but, the wedding still goes ahead, and they’re both miserably married by the end of the day.

.Despite his tactics, Goddard promises Yetta that he’d stay truthful to her regardless of whether or not they end up in bed together. And, in the beginning, neither of them wanted to. Goddard spends his nights sleeping on the floor, and there’s a more than obvious rumour floating around that they haven’t yet slept together. Despite all the pushes and shoves they receive; Goddard being pushed into Yetta’s room as she dresses for the day, Yetta being forced into the bathing chambers whilst Goddard is alone in there, conversations of sex being brought up at their meal times, and even being locked in their bedchamber for so long that Goddard ends up bum rushing the guards who bring them food at meal time.

.It’s not the best beginning, but there is a camaraderie that begins between them in their joint frustrations. Their attraction to one another begins in the written letters they send over the years. With Goddard working in Ferelden, and Yetta remaining in Ostwick, it’s the only way of communicating they have. And though it takes years, it’s hard to deny the way that their feelings grow each time Goddard gets some weeks away from the military.

.Together they have three children over the years, agreeing to stop trying after that due to Wakefield’s complicated birth. They remain happy together until this day, accepting a few blips over the years, and the rather gargantuan blunder of Goddard having an affair whilst incapacitated and presumed dead in Ferelden. Everything that is thrown at them is tackled head on and together, and it is obvious in almost everything that the do together, that their love grows ever stronger every minute they spent beside one another.

.TL:DR: all my heroes are happy and loved and alive :)c.

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braincoins · 4 years ago

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“But Socks!” you, as the convenient strawperson, exclaim, “as much as I’d love to read your Dragon Age stuff, I’ve never played Origins and/or Awakening! I don’t really know anything about Grey Wardens or the events of those games!”

Well all you had to do was ask, Convenient Strawperson-chan! ^_^ I know Grey Wardens play some small part in DA:I, which seems to be the game most people have played, but I’ll just start from the beginning. I’ll also be including personal headcanons that come up in Dragon Age: Schism, though I will mark them as such.

Under a cut for the sake of people’s dashes. Consider this a first post in a series. (I’ll answer questions that non-strawpeople want to ask, too!)

So, really now, what is a Grey Warden? Well, that depends on who you ask. To most people outside the order, the Grey Wardens are a glorious order of noble heroes! And why is that? Well, they’re immune to the darkspawn taint (which usually kills people) and so they can safely slay darkspawn! They’re also the only ones who can stop Blights!! ...though this last bit of information is often forgotten, given that Blights happen once every few centuries.

If you ask me, the Grey Wardens are the biggest dick move in Thedas, which is actually part of why I love them. Here’s all the downsides to joining this “glorious order”:

First of all, the Right of Conscription. Ferelden has it; not sure if other nations in Thedas do? Anyway, it means that Grey Wardens can recruit anyone at any time. In practice, they have to be careful how they wield this tool (especially in Ferelden), but the RoC has been used to save people from hangings or other deadly fates... on the condition that they become a Warden Recruit. So... didn’t want to be Warden Recruit? TOO BAD, YOU ARE NOW. And no, you don’t get a say in the RoC.

Second of all, there’s the Joining. It turns out that, in order to become a Grey Warden, you have to drink darkspawn blood. And a bunch of other stuff in there, but really now, DRINKING DARKSPAWN BLOOD. You might recognize this as a stupidly dangerous thing to do, given that darkspawn blood KILLS THINGS. But your options are drink it or die, because the Grey Wardens present at the Joining will kill you if you try to back out after learning about this. If you drink from the Joining chalice, you also might die, but your name will be remembered as a Grey Warden at least? Even though you’re dead. And hey, if you live, you... become “immune” to the darkspawn taint, which is to say you’re already fucking tainted so it’s not like it can get worse. Want to know why the Grey Wardens don’t tell people they’re gonna make them drink darkspawn blood? Well, if they did that, people wouldn’t want to join, and we need Grey Wardens.

Supposing you survive the Joining, there’s the shortened lifespan (10-30 years depending on your sources; my headcanon is just straight up 10-ish years) and the nightmares (that maybe you can learn to tune out). Again, they don’t tell you this until afterwards. Why? Because then people might not want to become Grey Wardens... yadda yadda.

Oh, and forget about having kids! It’s very difficult if not impossible to have children as a Grey Warden!

At some point, even if you were able to tune the nightmares out, they’ll come back and there’ll be nothing you can do about it. That’s the first sign of The Calling. Because it turns out that the Joining is really just turning you into a ghoul, except very, very slowly. You’re getting close to Ghoul-dom now. Most Grey Wardens choose to die in battle against the darkspawn rather than waiting to be turned. It’s tradition.

And if there’s a Blight going on? Oh, well, it turns out that the only way to kill an Archdemon is to sacrifice a Grey Warden. Why didn’t they tell you? DO YOU EVEN HAVE TO ASK NOW?!

The motto of the Grey Wardens is “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.”

So what I’m saying is that Grey Wardens are SUPER TRAGIC BADASSES. They also wind up pretty cut off from their former lives, so the Wardens become their family. So, basically, SUPER TRAGIC BADASS FOUND FAMILY. I really don’t see how I was not supposed to love them immediately.

They still have this reputation of “glory” and all that, but so many of their recruits were thieves or ne’er-do-wells saved from the gallows by the RoC. If you look at just the Wardens we have at the end of Awakening (and this is my list, i.e., the Wardens we have in Dragon Age: Schism):

The Warden (aka the Player Character): the Hero of Ferelden, but may have come from questionable backgrounds, depending on the origin you picked. Duncan might even have had to RoC you. If nothing else, much of Ferelden believed Loghain’s lies that the Wardens were traitors and murderers of beloved King Cailan, and that’s a hard thing to come out from under. In the case of Kivral, she’s a Dalish elf, and elves are... not exactly much beloved, the Dalish even less so, as they’re often painted as “savages.”

Alistair: King Cailan’s half-brother, thanks to their father, King Maric, getting a little something in on the side (”You’re not just a bastard, you’re a royal bastard?”). Kivral didn’t put him on the throne, but you can if you want in your game. In any case, despite being the most experienced Warden in the group (he Joined six months before the PC), he prefers to follow and let the PC lead. Also in love with Kivral (again: my choice; you can romance someone else in your game), who’s head over heels for him. His mere existence is a threat to the throne.

Nathaniel Howe: Son of Arl Rendon Howe, who backed Loghain and was, in pretty much all ways, a motherfucking asshole. Nate shows up trying to steal shit from the keep Queen Anora granted the Wardens, even though he insists he wasn’t stealing because it’s his stuff. The seneschal at the time wants to hang him. Kivral decided he’d undergo the Joining instead. Along the way, Nate learns about his father’s actions, comes to accept that, yes, his father was a sonuvabitch, and even pays special attention to non-noble/non-human companions, learning about the privilege he’s had most of his life.

Anders: When you first meet Anders, he’s surrounded by dead Templars and dead darkspawn. He swears forwards and backwards that the darkspawn killed the Templars and then he killed the darkspawn. REALLY. Even though he had run away from the Circle and was being hauled back there by those same Templars. In fact, a Templar shows up and wants to drag him off, but you can call RoC and recruit him instead. And also give him a kitten.

Velanna: Dalish mage exiled from her clan, even though she was the Keeper’s first - i.e., in line to be the next Keeper. She’s trying to find her sister, and that’s the only reason she signs on with you. HATES HUMANS. HAAAAAAAATES HUMANS. SO FUCKING MUCH. HATES THEM. Not exactly a “people person.” Like, at all.

Sigrun: Casteless dwarf who joined THE LEGION OF THE DEAD. In other words, a fucking badass already. But she’s also this adorable ray of sunshine? Like... her life sucked so she made the choice to consider herself already dead and then you can get her to join the Wardens who are basically Dead People Walking, just on the surface.

Oghren: One of your companions from Origins. A drunken, lecherous pervert of a dwarf, but he also unlocks the Berserker specialization for warriors in DA:O. He basically just shows up near the beginning of Awakening and is like, “Hey, I had fun killing shit with you and I wanna do more of it.”

Justice: Not in Schism, but mentioned in the notes: Justice is literally the Spirit of Justice who has taken over the corpse of a Grey Warden named Kristoff. In regular Dragon Age canon, Justice eventually leaves Kristoff’s corpse and hitches a ride with Anders, whose anger at the Chantry and the general treatment of mages turns him into VENGEANCE. In Schism, Justice departs back to the spirit world.

But I give you this list for a reason: thieves, exiles, casteless, apostates. These are the Great and Glorious Grey Wardens we’re dealing with here. Even Duncan, Maker watch over him, was a rogue and a thief before he became a Grey Warden and eventually rose to Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

In the time period of Dragon Age: Schism, the people of Ferelden are still recovering from the Blight, from the death of their king, from Loghain’s claims of Grey Warden treachery, etc. Many generations before, there was a Grey Warden rebellion against the then-king, Arland, for his tyrannical ways. The Wardens were slaughtered - either by the king’s troops or by the demons that the Warden mage Avernus summoned in desperation - and the Warden Order was cast out of Ferelden until King Maric assumed the throne and allowed them back in. He even reinstated their Right of Conscription (though, again, you can’t just RoC anyone and everyone all the time; that’s a good way to get it - and possibly the Order again - revoked real quick).

So the Wardens are on shaky ground in Ferelden, where our story is set and centered (just as in Origins/Awakening). There aren’t many of them (see list above because - again, aside from Justice - that’s literally all of them in the entire country) and people are still sort of side-eyeing them. They have Queen Anora’s support, but even that’s shaky, especially while Alistair - who could have taken the throne in her place - is still alive and kicking. The leader of the Wardens of Ferelden may also be the Hero of Ferelden, but, in the case of Schism-verse, is also a “knife-ear” (as the slur goes), and not Andrastian (she’s not Fantasy Christian, basically).

#Dragon Age #Grey Wardens #Dragon Age: Schism #this is the setup for those who didn't know

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garruson-vakarian · 4 years ago

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ME + DA Friend Pairings

Okay but hear me out...

Shepard x The Warden/The Inquisitor

They would share stories of their heroism and their incredible strokes of luck. They would enjoy each other’s company, but would respectfully leave each other be out of the fear that some conflict would spawn out of nowhere and threaten the world (again).

Jeff “Joker” Moreau x Hawke / Varric Tethras

They would absolutely need tissues from crying out of laughter. No one would be safe from the treachery of their humor. Joker would spin stories at a rate that even Hawke was impressed with... Varric may have met his match. That begs the question, though: How much of their stories are true?

Garrus Vakarian x Cullen Rutherford

Calibrations, strategy, and weaponry. Need I say more? These two would deliberate on their dreadful pasts and reflect on how they have changed their lives little by little to ensure that those tragedies don’t repeat themselves as long as they are still alive.

Kaidan Alenko x Alistair Theirin

Strong connections to their homeland. Would probably argue over who has the best national anthem, but laugh about it later over a warm homemade brew of Canadian-Fereldan craft beer.

Liara T’Soni x Lace Harding / Shaper Valta (same voice actress!)

Precious cinnamon rolls. All three of them. Each of them are curious about the world around them and are passionate when they talk about their work. However, they would not need to be protected at all costs, for they could easily protect themselves.

James Vega x The Iron Bull (same voice actor!)

They would host public contests to showcase who is stronger. Iron Bull would either hit James or hit on him. There’s no telling which would take place (first). There would be lots of competing and dancing between the two of them. Jimmy and Patches would have trouble getting bored.

Zaeed Massani x Fenris

Vengefully brooding in some corner, no doubt leaving a trail of dead bodies behind them. Zaeed would tell Fenris stories of how he killed a number of slavers as a mercenary, which would make him feel more comfortable in his company. Fenris, in turn, humored Zaeed by explaining how his hate for mages applies to biotics.

Urdnot Wrex x Sten

Severe levels of loyalty to their kin, to the point where they can make questionable decisions out of blind loyalty. They find respect for each other after questioning each other in their decisions and finding that they both learned from their experiences, and that an outsider’s influence may not have been the worst thing that could have happened to them.

Grunt x Oghren

Would absolutely attempt to out-drink each other. Grunt would learn to respect Oghren after he drank four bottles of ryncol and still managed to swing his axe in a 360 motion seven times without falling over. Grunt could do double that, but it was still more than anything a being half of his height could do.

Samara x Wynne

These two would talk about their need to protect others, and how their motherly love has grown to benefit those who need it. While Samara is dictated by the code, Wynne is aided by the spirit that possesses her. They ponder how they are lucky to be born with the gifts they are given, and that they are content with whatever fate has in store for them.

Thane Krios x Solas

I would be surprised if they did not discuss the meaning of life. They take pride in the fact that their role in their own lives is to serve as they are needed, and accept that some powers are greater than their own. However, this would not stop either of them in their endeavors to ensure that the ones they love are safe. Solas would attempt to replicate Thane’s reflective and vivid memories in the Fade, and invite him to experience it to lighten his burdens.

Morinth x Zevran Arainai

A dangerously provocative duo. These two would constantly tease each other into a bed somewhere, where Morinth could attempt to get Zevran to embrace eternity. Luckily, Zevran is smart enough to know when he is about to be overwhelmed by a woman (in a bad way), and can easily weasel his way out of her grasp. Regardless, the cycle continues.

Miranda Lawson x Isabella

These ladies would likely find comfort in talking about the little things that give them so much in common. It would help take away from their hectic lives, and allow peace to be found in fashion catalogs and their fierce independence.

Jack x Sera

At first, Jack would be incredibly annoyed by Sera. I mean, really, really annoyed. That is, until Jack stumbles upon some brownies in her quarters. Sera’s baking skills have improved since the bad cookies, and have evolved into a mastery of a red sand and lyrium brownies. It started out as a prank, but Jack makes sure to carry a few of them with her wherever she goes now, usually to remind herself not to destroy Sera the next time she sees her.

Kasumi Goto x Leliana

These girls would create some kind of secret language they could use to share information in a normal conversation with their peers. Even though they would refuse to share any secrets of their own, they would at least have fun with each other in the new world they have created together.

Ashley Williams x Anders

Both of these characters would share their constant strife with their unpopular opinions, which they do not hesitate to share. While they may find it difficult to get along with their peers because of this, they manage to get along with each other due to their dedication to their morals.

Commander Bailey x Blackwall

Would sit in immeasurable amounts of guilt and silence and avoid eye contact like the plague. Still, they could do that together and have a mutual understanding without speaking a word. The crossed arms would be enough.

Tali’Zorah vas Normandy x Josephine Montiliyet

They would share stories of their people’s history, which took place in ships that led to the success of generations. Each of them would explain the logistics of the ships they speak of, and be shocked in the stark difference between them. However, they would no doubt take notes of the intricate and fragile operations they function within.

Legion x Cole / Justice

An interesting combination, these three are. They have had the most elaborate journeys in self discovery, that they find it most beneficial that they share their knowledge. They also face identity crises, and find the experience most enlightening. They share the fear of becoming corrupted in the world they live in, which is a fear that is often shared with organics outside of the veil.

Mordin Solus x Merrill

Two researchers who are known for their questionable work, Mordin and Merrill would have the most interesting interactions. Merrill would be too anxious to cut Mordin off to explain how her magic works, so she would just silently sit and watch him pace back and forth and wait until he got close to passing out.

Dr. Karin Chakwas x Flemeth

Incredible amounts of wisdom. Essentially cares for others as needed, and they would go out of their way to ensure that others heed their warnings. Chakwas would share her grief about Joker and his resistance to take his medicine, while Flemeth would share her grief about Morrigan and her resistance to take her seriously.

Aria x Morrigan

They have both worked hard to attain their knowledge and power, and they will fight others to the death over what is theirs. However, if they grow close enough, they ~might~ show each other some vulnerability out of the sheer confidence that they are strong enough to destroy the other. However, Aria would remember Nyreen’s ethics and try to ensure that Kieran remains untouched.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age awakening #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #mass effect #mass effect trilogy #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3 #mass effect andromeda

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m-m-m-myysurana · 4 years ago

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tell me about neria!!! what are her impressions of the different party members? also what is her favorite food and her favorite smell?

Asking the hard questions here :3

Favourite food? Blackberries. I hc they used to grow wild in the place her clan returned to each summer. (Before she went to the circle of course) She and her brother would go pick and eat them by the handful, heedless of the scratches they’d get all up their arms. So lots of good memories come to mind whenever she eats them. Favourite smell? Pine forest after its rained.

Companions in order of recruiting:

Neria’s reaction to Alistair is basically to immediately make him her little brother. She see’s him so depressed after ostagar and losing duncan and takes it upon herself to protect him from everything. Which is why she doesn’t harden him and doesn’t make him king. She couldn’t do that to him against his will.

Morrigan is a tricky one. Neria found herself feeling a little intimidated by her, and felt like she needed to put up a really tough façade in front of her, even though on the inside, she was blushing. Honestly if Zev hadn’t have showed up Neria would 100% have found a way to woo Morrigan ;) They have a complicated relationship and disagree on a great many things, but eventually form a lasting bond.

Leliana does eventually become her friend, but she probably took the longest for Neria to trust. She doesn’t believe the story about the maker and is very iffy about her unwillingness to share anything about her background. Of course when her wariness turns out to not be without cause, this doesn’t help Leliana’s case.

Sten was an addition to the group that Neria seriously doubted was wise, but both Morrigan and Leliana insisted. He quickly shows himself completely dedicated to wiping out the blight, so she trusts that determination at least. She earns his respect after she defeats his challenge, and they become friends, albeit wary ones.

Wynne was one of Neria’s teachers and mentors in the circle. Neria looks up to Wynne, but her mothering tendencies wear on her. They fight about Neria’s relationship with Zev, but eventually Wynne apologises, realising it wasn’t her place and they reach a point of mutual respect, if not friendship.

Neria loves Zev eventually, obviously. But her first reaction to him is a huge mix of attraction duh, distrust, and an oddly strong urge to protect him when she realises he is basically a run away slave. She stands up for him against basically all of the other companions, even while attempting and failing to keep a wary distance from him.

Oghren and Neria become friends almost instantly because she just sits down and drinks with him, making sure he’s comfortable before getting him to tell his story. Of course she’s under the table before he’s finished the tale, serves her right for trying to keep up with him. Helping Oghren is the main reason she goes into the deep roads, (the politicians can hang for all she cares, she doesn’t like either candidate for the throne of Orzammar.) The others don’t understand why she puts in so much of an effort with him, but she continues helping him to recover from his trauma and he becomes one of her most loyal friends, following her for a long time after.

And last but not least, the dog :3 Duncan (name insisted upon by Alistair) Was Neria’s only sleeping companion for quite some time, since her nightmares made her so restless. She loves that pupper and if anyone ever hurt it she’d lose her shit. Eventually when Zev starts sharing her tent too, he quickly has to accept that the dog is going to be there too <3

Oops that became long, and wasn’t necessarily restricted to first impressions... oh well! Thanks for the ask though lovely <3

#long post #accidentally #asks #neria surana #my OC

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thessalian · 4 years ago

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Molly!Warden vs What Branka Did

Kardol: For the Legion!

Molly: One side, dead-boys!

Legionnaire: Don’t you speak to us that way, duster!

Kardol: We’ve got a duster or two that managed to squeak their way in here, salroka, so shut up. Besides, that’s a Grey Warden.

Legionnaire: How can you tell?

Kardol: Well, partly it’s the company...

Molly: YEET! *lobs herself at an ogre, blades first*

Ogre: *is very, very dead*

Kardol: But mostly it’s that she’s got the kind of disregard for life and limb that makes us look like sissies.

(Later...)

Oghren: Why do you keep dumping this Legionnaire armour on me?!?

Molly: It’s dragonbone. It’s excellent armour. You’re kind of honorary at this point anyway. And you’re the only person here it’d fit.

Oghren: There’s you.

Molly: I am reliant on speed and sneak. Clank is totally not my jam. Besides, because I’m built for speed, sneak, and flexibility, I don’t go in for the kind of strength I’d need to wear that.

Oghren: Ah. Yeah. I guess a warrior ... would ... probably have to be strong enough to wear this.

Molly: *sigh* Keep it in the pack for now and ask Alistair how he bulked up.

Oghren: You want me to take orders from him?

Molly: You want the spiffy dragonbone armour to knock you on your ass? I thought you saved that kind of falling over for a good night’s drinking.

Oghren: ...You’re worse than Branka.

Molly: Flattery will get you nowhere, salroka. I like ‘em taller.

(A little while later...)

Hespith: New people? Nope! NOPE!

Molly: Yeah, hi, sorry, but yeah. What was the fucked-up sing-song thing?

Hespith: Channelling my trauma. Doesn’t really work, but since I can’t throttle Branka for what she did--

Molly: Waitwut.

Hespith: Nope! NOPE! I DO NOT HAVE THE SPOONS FOR THIS! WISH I’D BEEN A MAN; THEY’D HAVE JUST KILLED ME THEN!

Wynne: Hespith, wait! We can help you!

Molly: *putting a few things together* No, Wynne. We really can’t.

Wynne: What? Why not?

Molly: Alistair, the Joining ... mages were heavily involved and there was some serious alchemical ... stuff, but ... now I’m thinking about the ... basic underlying structure of ... genlocks, all short and stout, and shrieks with the pointed ears and the lithe bodies and hurlocks being pretty well human-shaped--

Alistair: It ... does sort of fall down around ogres, though.

Molly: Not if you talk to Sten about the qunari for more than three minutes, it doesn’t! And notice how they’re all male-presenting?

Alistair: ...Remind me to add a note to whatever missive we eventually send to Weisshaupt about never letting women go to their Calling unaccompanied. That’s ... just ... better if it’s clean...

Wynne: Molly ... Alistair ... what is it?

Molly: I think we’re about to find out how we get darkspawn.

Oghren: Well, I assume when a mommy darkspawn and a daddy darkspawn love each other very much--

Broodmother: *REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*

Molly: That doesn’t look capable of anything in the same hemisphere as ‘love’, Oghren.

Oghren: ...I never thought I’d be so unhappy to see so many tits.

(Later...)

Molly & Oghren: I killed a titty-monster and therefore win at everything.

Branka: Oh, damn. There goes my never-ending stream of test subjects. Look, there’s traps. Sort it out. I want the Anvil.

Molly: You ... just ... what?!?

Oghren: She set it up so through the traps is our only way out, Warden.

Molly: And I guess I’m curious about ancient trap mechanisms anyway so FINE, WHATEVER, but I swear if I had some corrupter agent on hand your stupid wall would be dying to a fire bomb right now!

Branka: Woman after my own heart!

Molly: Not interested. I saw what you did to your last paramour.

(A few traps later...)

Caridin: So it’s all dwarven souls trapped in here. I tried to have it be volunteer only but ruthless kings just--

Molly: Say no more. I love my sister but Bhelen can never have this thing.

Branka: You’re not going to destroy it, are you?

Molly: Look, no matter who I put on the throne, the minute they heard about golem army, they’d ‘recruit’ hardcore, just like Valtor did. A lot of that ‘recruiting’ would be from the Casteless, because Bhelen’s ruthless enough to offer the right incentives and Harrowmont would just think, “who would miss a worthless brand?” But no one deserves this and I don’t give a fuck what tradition says so yes, I’m going to fucking well destroy it!

Oghren: You know she’s going to make us kill her for this.

Branka: Exactly! You’ll destroy it over my dead body!

Molly: First, Oghren ... I know, and I’ll apologise later, and I’ll probably also apologise for the wording of what I’m about to say next but YOUR PRIVILEGED ASS CAN SUCK MY METAPHORICAL! And Branka, either you can stand aside right now or I will destroy the Anvil over your dead body.

Branka: I have golems!

Molly: I have golems, a Templar, a powerful mage, a berseker ... but most of all ... I have someone that’ll win every time.

Branka: Which is?

Molly: *straight-up beheads a bitch*

Molly: That would be, “me”.

Caridin: That’ll do. Lemme make this crown and see you smash that fucking Anvil so I can yeet myself into the lava.

Molly: ...You do you, I guess?

(Much later, at the Assembly)

Molly: OKAY EVERYBODY SHUT UP! I’m back, Branka’s dead, I talked to Caridin instead, Bhelen gets the crown by Paragon decree, NO ONE GIVE ME ANY MORE SHIT TODAY, ALRIGHT?!?

Bhelen: Excellent! Thank you! Now, guards, take Harrowmont away for execution!

Molly: ...You couldn’t have waited to prove my point until I left this nug-humping city? Like, five minutes?

Bhelen: Thanks, Sis!

Molly: Happy as I am for Rica, that made me throw up in my mouth a little. Can I count on you to help against the Blight?

Bhelen: Sure! Good way to test my new ideas about warrior recruitment!

Molly: *sigh* Lemme just hug Rica and get the hell out of here.

(Later, back at camp...)

Molly: DAAAAAAAAAAH THE HALLUCINATIONS AGAIN!

Alistair: Pretty sure it saw us, Molly--

Shrieks: *REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*

Molly: Your Blightmare nugshit can eat me and these things can get fucked with knives!

Alistair: Could’ve done without the visual, Molly, thanks.

#Molly!Warden #Thess liveblogs Dragon Age #All Molly All The Time

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gaymingbinosaur · 5 years ago

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Favorite Character + Dragon Age

Sorry it took so long and @sexyshoelessgodofwar asked for DA too so I’m tagging them. Also @restitutor-orbis.Computer problems. Also

Favorite Character: Probably between Cullen and Alistair. I relate to Cullen’s tramau and I admit I do sometimes crack jokes about it so I really relate to Alistair.

Least Favorite Character Technically Meredith but that feels like cheating so Anora. She reminds me of someone, named Megan who I don’t like. So my brain just goes

5 Favorite Ships

Though I have a Trevelyan for Blackwall, I prefer Cadash/Blackwall. Like my game glitched so I couldn’t do it, but from what I’ve seen he’s the only one (that talks about it at least) that has no shame about their criminal past. The rest was kind of putting shame onto them. And he was like “Woah,woah. I’m not upset, I understand sometimes you are backed into a corner. I know your a good person.” And I’m sorry I ship it. Also Cadash I think out of all the orgins would be the most forgiving, I think. They both probably did bad stuff, y’know.

Cullen x Trevellyan. Like I like Lavellan but when I nailed down Nichole that became my hyperfixation. It was my first otp when I entered fandom, the last OTP I hade was when I was like ten watching teen titans. Also helped me deal with some shit. I always will have a soft spot for them.

Alistair/Warden. Friends to lovers and smart asses. I don’t have much else to say. I am simple when it comes to them.

Morrigian and my Brosca. I just think they would confuse the shit out of people. Like Banar is just a sweet ray of sunshine. Would save the world with the power of friendship. Is in love with Morrigian and she loves him back. The party talk I imagine would be less “He could do better.” but “How?” Also sucker for opposites attract. And they fulfill that for me.

I also think Nichole would be cute with Alistair. Like cute awkward adhd warriors trying to flirt. So Alistair/Trevelyan.

Character I find Most Attractive: As a Bi woman this question should be illegal. Cullen,Alistair, Josie, Leliana. Also Isabella, if I ever get DA2 expansions I’m kissing her.

Character I would be best friends with: Alistair. If you shove him in my irl friend group. He would fit right in. A dorky goofball that makes smartass comments. That is both Alistair and every friend I have.

Character I would marry: Probably Alistair. Like we have the most in common, personality wise and he’s just really sweet.

A random thought: Not having a mabari in Inquisition is stupid we got mounts but not a dog. Stupid.

My Canon OTP: Cullen x Trevelyan

Non Canon Otp: I guess Varric x Hawke. Like I love their friendship but it’s like c’mon. Like they always have each others back, and he’s not a romance option. Wait Merril x Isabella x Hawke I love. Just love those three’s dynamic.

Most Badass Character: Leliana. Just the stealth and politics are such a deadly combo.

Most Epic Villain: Mereidith. Like I hate her so much. 10/10 great villain.

Pairing I’m not a fan of: Samson/Cullen. With Cullen being such a coping character for me I struggle putting him in toxic relationships and I personally cant see it as healthy. If you do or like the toxic nature or whatever that’s fin. Just not my thing.

Character I feel the writers screwed up in one way or another.

Oghren. I could go on forever about how much I hate the path they did with Oghren. Like take away Orghen’s jokes his story is a man whose wife disappeared,assumed dead that then loses his honor after accidentally killing a man, is “coping” with all these loses by drinking. And then he loses even more when the warden came. He finds his wife insane, he may even have to kill her and then he goes to the surface and loses his home. And then the game pretty much makes it just a joke.Like they focus on the fact that he’s an ass but I fucking wish they would focus on all the things he lost.

Fav Friendship: Cullen/Cass, Dorian/Cullen, Dorian/Inquisitor, Blackwall/inquisitor couldn’t pick. I like how loyal and protective Cullen and Cass are to each other. I like Dorian/Cullen highlighting Cullen’s change on his attitude towards mages. Also he helps him relax and not overthink things. Dorian/quizzy are a found family and you can’t change my mind and I want Blackwall to adopt me.

Character I most Identify with: Alistair followed by Cullen. I relate to trying to not making people worry with jokes and pretending I’m fine. I also relate to Cullen’s anger a lot. Like not the mages part, but I’m angry at so many things. Some justified but I still have to remind myself not to blame people who did things that they thought was for the best, even if they were wrong.

Character I wish I could be: Um, Sten being vaguely threatening and eating cookies all day. That’s the dream. Seriously though, um Josephine. She has her shit together, I want my shit together.

I’ll do Alistair since every knows my opinions on Cullen.Also to my followers who followed me for awhile. Sorry for the Cullen spam, like in general.

How I feel about this character: Relatable as fuck and absolutely charming

Any and all ships I have for him:

I’m going to channel my Galavant blog energy and ship him with everyone I can.

Warden/Alistair obviously. Can be canon and them flirting by seeing who can make the funniest joke. Is how I view the relationship. It’s great when they accidently confess something when screwing around. Like Alistair calling you beautiful without realizing it. Amazing.

Leliana and Alistair: In Origins both lived in a chantry, both cheerful despite trauma. Both can be hardened during the events of Origins so that cheerful bubble of thinking the world is generally a good place is always threatened to be burst through out the game. I think they have some interesting similarites that could work.

Morrigan x Alistair. Not my Fav but I get it. Enemies to lovers, with a dash of Andy and April. I understand it at least.

Trev/Alistair: Mainly because Nichole. But also all quizzy ships. Seeing him crushing on someone when he’s not 19 would be interesting.

I’ve seen some ideas of Zev x Alistair. Still not sure what to think. It has potential in the opposites attract kind of way but I haven’t thought about it that much. They haven’t hit that wire in my brain that made me realize where the strongest potential lies or seen metas that make me go oh shit. Like I ship it a little because I’m curious but I haven’t found the emotional core of it.

Fav Non Romantic relationship for him: Easy Wynne is his mother now.

My unpopular opinion for him: I don’t know, like any opinion I have I feel is popular in some circle. Like some people view Alistair as whiny and I disagree and a lot of people would back me up. So I don’t think it counts as unpopular. I think he has adhd I only seen one other post mention it.

One thing I wish will happen in canon: He has a son named Duncan, either by birth or adoption, and the Warden brings the cure back.

Favorite friendship: Wynne, isn’t this the same as the non romantic question?

Crossovership: I’m going to do a Galavant one since Dragon age and Galavant are the two main reasons people recognize me here. Um I kind of ship him with both season two Richard and Roberta. A goofy dumb royal with a god awful family and Roberta a sweet and slightly awkward warrior that is the mom friend of every group. I think King Richard and Alistair would be hilliarious and sweet and Roberta/Alistair would be heartfelt. I’ll polly ship them since Roberta/Richard is canon.

#restitutor-orbis

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dragonagecompanionsreact · 6 years ago

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How would the Warden party react to a really physically touchy Warden, provided they stay within acceptable limits?

Alistair: He would be over the moon! At first, he was a bit uncomfortable, but as time goes on, he relies more and more on the comfort of his fellow warden. They help with the nighmares, and having his companion on his arm boosts his confidence.

Leliana: She is embarrassed at first. Eventually, she becomes used to the affection of her warden. She isn’t fond of the actions when they are in public, but a conversation with the warden has remedied that situation well enough.

Morrigan: She says she hates it and acts like she hates it, but in reality she loves it; but only when they are alone. Being touchy feely in camp is also a no-no, given the teasing from Alistair. Cuddles and hugs are for seclusion and in the tent alone. She is clingier than she looks.

Oghren: He doesn’t care, or even notice. After all, the closer the warden is, the easier it is to share drinks and stories of their escapades.

Shale: Hates it and demands the warden keep their distance. The warden does, but only after Shale pummels them a few too many times.

Sten: He thinks it is improper for a warrior to show such weakness. Allows the shows of affection with a grumble if they are in private, and gets very upset if the warden is touchy in public, giving them a stern talking-to.

Wynne: She is very embarrassed on the surface, but she secretly loves the closeness and the affection. Wynne makes sure that physical closeness is limited to handholding in public, though.

Zevran: He loves it so much. He is just as clingy and touchy as they are, and he is happy to always have a hand on their waist or shoulder at all times. The delicate movement of his hands on them often leads to kissing and other things, much to the chagrin of everyone around.

-Mod Jenn

#dao #alistair #leliana #morrigan #oghren #shale #sten #wynne #zevran #mod jenn #(i am alive... barely)

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degenerate-perturbation · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 3/? Relationships: Female Amell/Female Surana Characters: Female Amell, Female Surana, Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel Howe Additional Tags: Established Relationship Series: Part 2 of void and light, blood and spirit Summary: Amell and Surana are out of the Circle, and are now free to build a life together. But when the prison doors fly open, what do you have in common with the one who was shackled next to you? What do you have in common, save for the chains that bound you both?

Yvanne didn’t remember what she had gone to Amaranthine for, afterward. Somebody had needed something from the city market. Anders, maybe? He’d been there. Loriel hadn’t come, due to some pressing meeting or another, but that was fine. When they’d first straightened things out between them, and for months after that, they’d been joined at the hip, awash with new-old feelings, but that had been then. They were hardly a brand-new couple unable to stand a moment apart now . It should have been fine.

She hadn’t been expecting to see a familiar face.

Yvanne caught sight of Wynne too late to avoid her, and too early to just walk past her. Worse, Wynne had spotted her, too, at almost the same moment.

“Amell,” the old woman said by way of greeting. “How nice to see you well.”

If Loriel had been here she would have smiled pleasantly and talked to Wynne about nothing whatsoever, maybe offered to do her a favor, and the conversation would have ended with everyone feeling a little bit better about themselves. And probably later Yvanne would have made some kind of snotty comment and Loriel might have rolled her eyes, or maybe snickered in guilty agreement, or just put an arm around her waist as she grumbled.

But Loriel wasn’t there, and Yvanne had to face Wynne alone.

“Right,�� Yvanne said. “How nice.”

During the Blight, she had resented Wynne’s presence with their group. She had tolerated it only because Loriel had insisted they needed every hand they could get, and anyway Yvanne knew her own skills as a healer were nothing compared to a senior mage’s. Probably they still weren’t—Yvanne had spent less time pursuing spirit healing in the past year than she had on playing at being a swordswoman. And she wasn’t much good at that, either.

Wynne had made a brief overture at rekindling that relationship, an overture which Yvanne was quick to crush. Having had it made abundantly clear to her that Yvanne would not be tolerating her input on anything she did, Wynne had refocused to Loriel. Loriel was a much better student, it was true. She had smiled and nodded and agreed entirely with everything Wynne advised, and then ignored all of it to do what she wanted instead.

Yvanne had hated her so much, for so long.

In her teenage memory Wynne was worse than the Templars. She’d collaborated. She’d made excuses and agreed with their hateful lies and tacitly allowed it all to happen. Yvanne had seen her treat people who’d been beaten, people who’d been whipped, who’d been raped. Seen her saying nothing, like it was alright, like it was fine. She’d hated her complicity, hated her kind voice, hated her patience, hated how she’d tried to be Yvanne’s mother when Yvanne had never had one and had never wanted one, anyway.

She hated that in a weak and watery sort of way, she almost could have loved her.

She hated that looking at her now, just a little older, just a little more tired—Yvanne didn’t hate her anymore.

Where had the hatred gone? She searched for the raw and bleeding center of venom and rage, and yes, it was still there, perhaps it would never go away, but for now it was dormant. When had it left her, so bereft and without direction? During the Blight, when she’d first sorted things out with Loriel? No. Not then. Not the night after, either, or the one after that. But somehow, little by little, she had changed.

Now when she looked at the old woman, she felt only a vague and piercing sadness and regret that it hadn’t been different.

Before she could stop herself, Yvanne’s lips were moving. “I—uhm. Would you maybe—would you maybe like to get a drink?” she said, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth. “And you can tell me how you’ve been. And I know you like wine. And the Crown and Lion is nearby.”

Yvanne at least had the satisfaction of catching the old woman off guard. “Well,” Wynne said, “I must say, I wasn’t expecting that. And truth be told, I don’t have much time…” Yvanne’s heart seized with relief and disappointment, “…but perhaps I can make some, for you.”

Her stomach clenched. “Right. Okay.” She glanced round for Anders but he was nowhere to be found. She’d last seen him speaking with an elven woman she didn’t recognize. This, too, brought relief and disappointment. She’d be doing this by herself. “This way, then.”

The Crown and Lion was just loud and crowded enough to disappear in, but still warm and bright to not cloy. They sat. Wynne took wine. Yvanne took something bright blue and caustic that tasted like fire and ice at the same time. It didn’t do much to calm her nerves, but it did seem to do something.

They talked of nearly nothing at all. Wynne asked after Loriel. Yvanne said she was fine. She told her Anders was a Warden now. Wynne asked how he was, in a tone of faint disapproval. Yvanne said he was fine, too. She mentioned about Oghren also being a Warden now. How nice that was, Wynne said, sounding almost but not quite sincere.

And it was utterly vacuous, and very nearly not so horrible, until Wynne seemed to forget completely who she was speaking to.

“Have you considered at all,” Wynne said, “returning to the Circle?”

At first Yvanne didn’t understand her. Surely nobody could say something so insane on purpose. “What? No. Why in the void would I do that?”

“To help rebuild,” Wynne said. “After what happened, things are—well, not ideal. Every pair of talented hands helps.”

“I’ll kill myself before I ever go back to a Circle,” Yvanne said, and drank the rest of whatever was in her mug.

“I see,” Wynne said crisply. “Well, I suppose not everything can change at once.”

“It won’t change at all,” Yvanne said. “Ever.”

“Of course you think so now, dear. No matter. I’ve said my piece.”

A number of responses sprung to Yvanne’s mind, each more awful than the last. She rose slightly to spit out one or the other, the motion coming as easily as breathing, but at just as soon, they died on her lips. She thought about relating the whole incident to Loriel later, and how disappointed she’d be, how she’d pretend that she wasn’t but still sigh and look away from her.

“Fine,” Yvanne bit out instead. “It doesn’t matter.”

Wynne sensed that the truce was coming to its natural conclusion. “But as I said,” she said, “I don’t have very much time. I am on my way to Cumberland, for the convening of the College of the Magi, and my colleague is missing.”

“Well! That sounds like a whole lot of none of my business,” Yvanne said cheerily, wondering if she ought to order a third one of whatever it was she’d just drunk.

“On the contrary,” said Wynne, “It is very much your business. You are still a mage, and the legal affairs of mages concern you. The Libertarians are voting to break away from the Chantry entirely.”

Yvanne snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet they’ll achieve lots that way. Let’s just vote our troubles away! That’ll work!”

“If the vote goes through, we may have a disaster on our hands.” Wynne looked steadily at her. “You truly care not at all?”

“I truly care not at all.”

“Then what do you care about, I wonder?”

Yvanne wasn’t about to answer that. “I hope the vote does go through and I hope there is a huge disaster,” she said. “And I’m not a mage, I’m the Warden-Lieutenant. This was a bad idea, and I’m done talking to you now. Goodbye.”

She stood up, rattling the chair so hard that it fell to the flagstones with a clatter. She started to stomp away, but not fast enough.

“Hmph. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. At this rate it’s a matter of when disaster strikes, not if.” Wynne said, ostensibly to herself—but just loud enough.

Yvanne turned. “ What did you say?”

Wynne shook her head. “It was clear to me even during the Blight. If, as you say, you are the Warden-Lieutenant, then Warden you must be—but to be a Warden is to put duty above anything else. Loriel understands duty, but you do not. You have changed very little since you were a child. I had hoped she would be good for you, but you remain as selfish and impulsive as ever. I fear very much what your relationship with Loriel will bring to her, to you, and to everyone around you. Your actions will reflect on all mages, mark my words.”

Yvanne burned. “You’re a horrible mean old woman and you don’t have anything to teach me, and you’re wrong about—about all of that! To the void with you!”

She came away blistering, humiliated, feeling stupid for having ever had a single tender feeling towards Wynne, or the Warden recruits, or anyone, or anything.

—

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re back, I wanted to—you’re upset. What’s upsetting you?” Loriel stopped up short, tilting her head.

“I’m not upset. Nothing’s upsetting me. Quit worrying.” Yvanne closed the door behind her, tapping her foot. It had been late when she’d come back to the Keep, and she’d gone to her and Loriel’s chambers, expecting to at least be able to sink into a warm bed, but Loriel hadn’t been there. She’d been in the Warden-Commander’s study, her eyes drooping over a scattered bunch of parchments.

Loriel placed her knuckles on her cheek, blinking slowly.

“Alright,” said Yvanne. “I ran into Wynne.”

“Oh. How is she doing?”

“I don’t know. She’s fine. She’s going to some College of the Magi thing in Cumberland, or something.”

Loriel sat up straighter. “They’re convening? Over what?”

“I think the Libertarians are voting to secede from the Chantry. Something like that. Who cares! That’s not the important part.”

“It’s not? Then what’s the important part?” Loriel furrowed her brows. “I would think that an attempt to leave the Chantry would be extremely important.”

Yvanne didn’t seem to have heard her, pacing feverishly. “She said—well, all sorts of things—and she had this expression on her face, like—sure, other people looked at me like that, but Wynne didn’t used to. I hate her! Maker, even when I make an effort, it never matters.”

“But what did she say?”

When disaster strikes, not if—changed very little—selfish, impulsive—

“I don’t really remember,” Yvanne said. She ran out of steam and collapsed at the desk, burying her head in her hands. “It’s not important.”

“Okay,” Loriel agreed. “It’s not important.”

She felt Loriel’s hands on her weary shoulders. “So what is important?”

“What’s important is,” Yvanne said fiercely, “is that I love you.” She lifted her head to kiss her fully. She stood— selfish— she wrapped her arms around her, and she felt so easy and familiar and perfectly correct— what do you care about, I wonder?— Loriel made a hungry noise in the back of her throat, and she fisted her hands in her hair, hoping somehow to kiss her hard enough to scrub the afternoon's events off her skin.

The door opened. They broke off.

Anders waved. “Sorry to interrupt. I’ve got something sort of important to tell you about.”

—

The three of them sat in the Warden-Commander’s office, on the floor in a loose circle. The door was locked, barred, spelled shut. Loriel had insisted.

“This could be big,” Yvanne said.

“It could be a big trap,” Loriel said. “Like when we went after Jowan’s phylactery. Remember that?”

“But that ended out alright, didn’t it?”

“All I’m saying is it’s an opportunity,” Anders said.

“Loriel,” Yvanne said, “they might have ours there, too. Anders said they moved the whole cache. If it really is still there…”

“I know. I know, Yvanne.” If she could get Yvanne’s phylactery, her own phylactery, that would be it. The last thread severed. Not total safety, never total, but much closer to it.

She bit her lip. “Maybe…maybe there’s another way. I could write to the Circle, as Warden-Commander. Demand the phylacteries for Warden business. I’m not sure if it’s legal, but it might be. I could look in the codes. Even if it’s not, I have influence…”

“And if they refuse?” Yvanne insisted. “It took the king’s authority to even get Anders recruited. Hell, both his and mine recruitments were carried out over loud objections. They’ll never let you have them.”

“If the Crown supports me, too, then—”

“You know he won’t.”

Loriel fell silent. She did know.

“Look,” said Anders, raising his hands, palms up, “forget I said anything. Don’t worry about it. I’m a big scary mage, you know. Just give me official, Commander-y leave, and I’ll go alone. Anything goes tits-up, it’ll be on me. But if we don’t do it now they might not be there tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not,” Loriel said at once. “I couldn’t possibly allow it.”

“What?” Yvanne said, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but also like it was exactly what she expected. “How can you say that? Loriel, if there’s any chance at all—”

“I mean,” Loriel said wearily, “I couldn’t possibly allow him to go alone.” Not so long ago, she would have said that she was doing this for Yvanne, only for Yvanne, and hang the rest of them. And it would have been true. She wished it still was.

She sighed. “No. We go together.”

"I—really? I mean, great!" A smile cracked across his face, bright and sunny and ridiculous. He swept them both up in a grateful hug, then hastily backing off, still smiling. She told him to come back around midnight, and off he went.

"Thank you," Yvanne told her later, so seriously, so earnestly, as though there were anything to be grateful for. As though Yvanne wouldn’t have gone with her friend, even if Loriel had attempted to forbid it. As though she was doing for just for her in the first place.

—

Her mistake was in not bringing anybody else.

She’d thought about it, very carefully. Oghren almost would have worked, even if that did mean subjecting Loriel to the journey to Amaranthine in the company of Yvanne, Anders, and Oghren all trading jests, trying to out-do each other in overt horribleness. That by itself would have been acceptable, but could the old warrior be trusted to keep quiet about this? She didn’t doubt his loyalty, but supposing he got drunk, and he was always drunk, and let something slip, and something got back to the wrong person, and the whole legitimacy of Loriel’s command fell to shambles as everyone together remembered what she was?

Velanna was a mage herself, and as much at risk as any of them. She couldn’t ask her. Nathaniel Howe, for all his posturing, would follow orders, she was sure of it. But he was a human nobleman, or he had been. He knew the Chant. She had no reason to believe he didn’t believe it was all true, all the parts about magic. What would he think of his Commander, if he found out she was willing to defy the Chantry, to shake off that yoke? No, she couldn’t trust him.

She could have trusted Sigrun—what did casteless dwarves care for surface mores about magic?—but Loriel hated to put the Legionnaire in any danger, when she was so void-bent on throwing herself into it all of the time. Of all the new recruits, she liked her best. Grey Warden duties were one thing, but this desperate attempt on the phylacteries was base fear, pure vanity. She couldn’t justify it. She couldn’t ask a good woman to do this for her. Not even for all three of them.

And so foolishly, they had gone alone.

They’d expected guards. When there weren’t any, Loriel should have known to turn everyone around. But she hadn’t.

Because she’d wanted the damn phylacteries. For herself. For Yvanne, too, and for Anders, but also for herself. It frightened her, how much she wanted it. She shouldn’t have wanted it, not this much.

The door wasn’t even locked. It had been so obvious.

The warehouse was dark inside. Yvanne lit a spirit-light, casting the space in a greenish hue, though it did not quite reach the corners. The wisp hovered in place, keeping near Yvanne like a child to its mother.

Loriel was thrown back to the day after her Harrowing. How afraid she’d been, how horrified. Had she been afraid? She must have been…but when she thought back to that journey, she found that she could hardly remember it. Only a few snatches of speech, a few fragmented images. She had been outside herself, a prisoner within herself watching events unfold against her will.

But she was not a prisoner now. And she was beginning to remember…

Loriel gripped her staff and gestured them forward to the next room, where the phylacteries would be.

But the warehouse was empty. Of course it was.

A heavy door slammed shut behind them.

A mundane orange light joined the ghostly green. There were heavy booted footsteps, the clank of plate armor.

“Stop right there.”

Loriel stopped. She turned. She adopted a pleasant smile.

“Ser Rylock,” she said, not missing a beat. “Should you not return to your post at Kinloch? Surely they will be needing your help with the rebuilding.”

Rylock’s hawkish gaze pierced her, but only for a moment. She looked through her, not at her. Loriel was an afterthought. “Warden-Commander,” she said by way of greeting, and nobody could miss the sardonic note in the way she spoke the title. “How unfortunate it is to see you. There is some unpleasant business my men and I must complete.”

Anders said something flippant, something rude. Loriel ignored it. This would be delicate.

“If this has anything to do with one of my men,” she said evenly, “then I am afraid the position of the Crown is against you. These Wardens are entirely under my jurisdiction.”

“As though your jurisdiction could mean anything,” said Rylock, and she said it not unkindly. She said it as though it was a mere fact of life, that Loriel was perhaps too dim to fully grasp. “In this, Chantry law supersedes that of the Crown.”

Loriel opened her mouth to say something else, but Rylock was through with talking.

Two Templars against three mages. No fair contest at all.

The first Smite was enough. It boiled the lyrium in her veins, set it flaming and freezing at once. Loriel had never experienced it before. She lost awareness of everything but her body, all the magic ripped out of it. If Yvanne screamed, she didn’t hear her. She did not remember falling, but her cheek ground against the dirt floor, her shoulders trembling, no air in her lungs.

And that was it. Total incapacitation. Even if Loriel could have moved or thought fast enough through the haze of breathless pain, she had no mana, and neither did Yvanne, neither did Anders—he was as good as dead, and there was no telling what would happen to Yvanne.

She struggled to cast a spell, any spell, but it was like drawing water from a stone. She was cut off from the Fade.

How easy it was for them, how almost thoughtless. Why even wear armor? Just for show? They didn’t need it. Loriel was the greatest entropy mage Kinloch had seen in generations, the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Commander, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, and all of that was so much debris in a ditch. Right now she was an uppity robe who’d gotten above herself, being put back in her place. What did it matter, Commander? What did it matter, Arlessa? She was still just a mage.

One of the Templars stepped closer to her, nudging her with the side of his sabaton. She couldn’t see his face, but he’d drawn his sword. The naked blade was within her reach.

She thought fast, and acted faster. She grasped the blade hard. It bit into her skin—pain shot through her, bright and blooming and wonderfully welcome. They’d cut her from the Fade, but not from herself, not from her own native power.

With a thought, the man’s blood was boiling in his veins. He jerked, his blade cutting deeper into Loriel’s hand—unfortunate, how unfortunate for him, now all three of them were in her control, now all three of them were boiling in their blood.

They did not even scream, for they had not the control over their bodies to produce a scream. They were frozen place, helpless.

She lay in the dirt for a moment, all her concentration bent upon maintaining the spell. She forced herself to sit, then stand.

They stood there, twitching. She could feel them struggling against her, but any move they made would only hurt them worse. If their faces were contorted in pain, it was hidden by their helmets. But they were still alive.

It would need a deeper cut, less clumsy this time. Now, with the Smite beginning to wear off, Loriel’s hands were steady. This time the blood flowed smoothly, drip drip dripping on the dirt. This time she would have power enough.

She extended a hand, and crushed it into a fist. Three hearts collapsed at once, then three metal-shod bodies hit the ground. She felt them die when her control relinquished.

The Wardens, the former wards, were alone in the warehouse.

They were safe.

Loriel turned woozily to her companions. Yvanne seemed to be alright, although for some reason she couldn't quite see her face clearly. She hadn't been thinking of at all of her—or Anders—a moment ago when she'd been helpless on the dirt floor. She made a note to feel guilty about it later, when she didn't feel quite so lightheaded.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she meant to say, but somehow it came out as “M’sor…seethe…”

The world seemed to spin chaotically. Somehow she was on the ground again, but this time someone’s arms were around her. They looked awfully blurry, but Loriel would know Yvanne’s touch anywhere.

“Oh, Maker, you’re so pale…can you hear me? Loriel, love? I don’t have any lyrium on me—fuck, that was so much blood…”

“Here, I’ve got some.” The other voice. A moment later, the cool-water feeling of a healing spell. She shuddered. Pure spirit magic always felt strange to her.

Loriel’s heart still beat against her ribs like a caged bird, but things didn’t seem so blurry now. “I’m alright,” she assured. “We…we’ve got to get out of here. Now.” She tried to struggle up, and couldn’t quite make it. Yvanne lifted her, looping an arm around her waist, her fingers digging into her side. The Smite must have still been affecting her. Normally she was easily strong enough to take Loriel’s entire weight.

“Wait. We can’t leave. What are we going to do with the bodies?” Yvanne said. “Anyone would be able to tell it was blood magic.”

“Leave them to rot and whistle innocently anytime we pass by some guards?” Anders suggested.

Loriel said, “I know a spell…”

“Don’t you dare!” Yvanne said. “You’re already—” But before she could finish Loriel was murmuring an incantation. The bodies disintegrated within seconds, leaving bleached skeletons lost in their armor. Then even the bones turned to dust. Rust ate the armor, and that too collapsed into a reddish dust. An unnatural indoor wind blew, and even the dust scattered. No evidence that anyone had ever lived and died in this room remained. Loriel hadn’t become the best student of entropy magic in a hundred years for nothing.

Anders looked like he might be sick. “Alright,” he said. “ Now let’s get out of here.”

They hobbled out into the cool night air.

Loriel didn’t make it far. She had to call a halt halfway out the city, for which Yvanne seemed grateful.

“So that was a wash,” said Anders.

Yvanne didn’t reply. Loriel was pressed against her chest.

“Got rid of Rylock,” Loriel managed. Not quite a complete sentence yet, but getting closer.

“Hah. That’s definitely true.” Anders was looking at her, his expression carefully guarded. He chuckled. “Well, how about that. Little Loriel Surana, a blood mage? Now I’ve seen everything.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen the half of it,” Yvanne said with artificial lightness. “You should hear about the old hermit we met in the Brecilian forest. Poet-trees weren’t the half of that place. Ask Oghren, he’ll tell you.”

They chuckled, but weakly, and not for long.

“I’ll, uhm, check the perimeter, in case anyone…just in case. Yeah.” Anders gestured vaguely behind him with his thumb. “Rest up, Commander. I’ll be right back.”

She wanted to speak up and tell him not to go alone, that it could be dangerous, but somehow he seemed to move very fast. Or maybe she was being very slow. She let him go and let her eyes slide closed for a little while, listening to the steady beat of Yvanne’s heart.

“Yvanne, listen…”

“Yeah?” She brushed a sweaty piece of hair away from her forehead.

Loriel swallowed. “It…it was irresponsible of me to refuse to teach you blood magic. What happened at the warehouse—it can’t ever happen again. You should be able to defend yourself against a Templar, even if it means....oh, Maker, I feel so stupid. If you still want to learn, I’ll teach you, right away.”

“You aren’t stupid,” Yvanne said. “We’ll talk about this back at the Keep.”

Anders came back not long after that, suggesting they get out of the city. Loriel staggered up, leaning heavily on Yvanne, but managed to keep her footing. Anders gave her a reassuring grin and a thumbs-up.

It was then that Loriel managed to place that strange expression Anders had been wearing as he’d looked at her in the warehouse. It had been fear. Naked fear.

—

Loriel wrote to the Circle with a request. They responded. Loriel wrote to them again, and to Weisshaupt, and to Denerim, with ever more official-looking seals and signatures at the bottom of the parchment. They responded again. Loriel wrote back a third time, suggesting that she would pay a personal visit back to Kinloch—purely for personal reasons, of course, to see how the rebuilding was going, see some old friendly faces. And also to see if perhaps anybody else would like to be recruited into the Grey Wardens there, as she was after all the Warden-Commander, and retained the Rite of Conscription, and surely there would be many willing recruits among Kinloch’s survivors…

They sent her the phylacteries. Loriel agreeably cancelled her planned visit.

They came in a mahogany box, secured to the fabric padding with twine, lest they break. They were delivered by a Templar that Loriel didn’t recognize, who must have been new. She smiled pleasantly as he completed his delivery. He did not smile back, and forgot to salute her before departing.

She took the mahogany box to her office. Yvanne was already waiting. Anders turned up shortly after. Loriel locked the door, and barred it, and spelled it shut. Then she opened the box, and there they were. Three little glass vials, belonging to the mages of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, neatly labelled for the Commander’s convenience. Loriel took hers out, watching her own blood slosh around inside the crystal. Strange to see it still red and living, nearly fifteen years after they had taken it from her.

Then she handed Yvanne hers, and Anders his. She wondered if maybe she should have made a bigger deal of it. Lit some candles. Arranged for some chanting.

But no. It was just three mostly-grown mages, alone in a quiet room, bizarrely afraid to do something they’d dreamed of doing for years.

“On three, then?” Yvanne finally suggested.

“On three,” Loriel agreed.

They counted together. One. Two. Three.

All three phylacteries smashed on the stone floor. There was hardly any blood at all, between the three of them. I’ll have to clean this up, Loriel thought. The glass was easy, but blood would stain the old stones. But then, she was a blood mage now, wasn’t she? It ought to be easy for her.

Maybe she’d just cover the stain with a new rug.

“That’s that, then,” Anders said with relief. “It’s really over.”

“Yep,” said Yvanne, popping the ‘p.’

“Makes me feel rather silly about the whole bit with the warehouse, really.”

“Don’t,” said Loriel. “The important thing is it’s over.”

They kept staring at the bloodstain. Loriel reached out to take Yvanne’s hand. She grasped back fiercely, and her other hand came up to squeeze Anders’ shoulder. They stayed like that for a while.

Then Anders shook Yvanne off. “Well,” he said, “I’m off towards the rest of my life, I suppose. I’ll see you two at dinner.”

And it was just the two of them.

Yvanne drew Loriel close, but it was not as lovers drew each other close. She drew her close as a child draws her friend close in the dark, when one of them has awoken from a nightmare and is not yet quite convinced it was only a dream.

“That’s it, then,” Yvanne said into her hair.

“That’s it,” Loriel murmured against her collarbone.

They stood like that for a long time, until Yvanne whispered, “What are we going to do now?”

“We’re going to live our lives,” said Loriel, and the future opened wide, yawning and expansive, sure to swallow her whole.

The bloodstain never did come out of the flagstones.

#dragon age #dragon age: awakening #amell #surana #femslash #please pay attention to my wizard lesbian fanfiction

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chrismerle · 5 years ago

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August 23 - Death

For as lauded as Darrick is for finding the cure, the truth remains that it's ineffective after a certain level of taint. He found the cure, but it is useless for him. Still, he can't regret it. He can't regret his life in general.

Besides, it's not as if he needs to deal with it alone. They have a pact.

They're in Orzammar, gathered in a tavern. Despite what they're waiting to do, they're boisterous. Laughing and shouting over each other, jostling each other until there's booze splashed halfway across the table.

"Where's your sweetheart, anyway?" Bethany asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Darrick. He suspects she's only asking so Anders will stop pestering her about how she got Rigel to stay away.

"Denerim," Darrick answers, and then drains his ale. "Zev an' I said our goodbyes." He shrugs a shoulder that's too casual, but none of them call him on it. "Said he'd just wind up followin' me if he came here, so I made sure he had somethin' to do."

"Who's he killin’?" Oghren asks flatly, prodding at Darrick with one elbow.

"Opposite, actually," Darrick replies, leaning out of the way and winding up in Sigrun's space. She pushes him back towards Oghren, and he settles, instead, for ducking under the table and emerging on the other side, between Nathaniel and Anders.

"You can't just leave it there," Sigrun points out. "Opposite how?"

"Honor guard for a princess," Darrick supplies. Before anyone else can ask any questions, he wonders, "Did no one ever manage to find Velanna?"

Anders shrugs, a bit helplessly. "She's more in the wind than I was. We aren't even sure if she's still alive."

"Speakin' of," Oghren pipes in again, "when are we gettin' this party started?"

"Eager, are you?" Nathaniel asks blandly. Oghren waves a one-fingered gesture at him, and Bethany fails to mask a laugh behind her drink.

"Still waitin' on someone," Darrick reminds him. "Get another drink, you'll be fine."

It's not a command Oghren is going to argue with, and as he waves for another round, the group lapses back into aimless camaraderie.

When the final member of their party arrives, they sense him coming, the group looking up as one as the tavern door swings open. The King of Ferelden strolls into the tavern, the door thumping shut in his wake. His hair has long since gone silver, but his armor still fits perfectly.

He makes it halfway to their table before Darrick surges to his feet and sprints at him. Laughing, Alistair catches him, weight adjusting automatically as Darrick lunges and latches on, legs around Alistair's middle and arms around the back of his neck.

It takes a moment before Darrick leans back enough for them to properly look at each other. "Hey," he offers, with a smile that wobbles.

"Hey," Alistair returns, and a gentle smile quirks one side of his mouth as he leans their foreheads together. "Holding up?"

"'s'loud," Darrick answers, voice low.

"Quit neckin'!" Oghren shouts at them, tossing an empty tankard in their direction. If he even notices Sigrun smacking his shoulder, he doesn't say anything about it.

With a scoff of laughter, Alistair sets Darrick's feet back on the floor. "Well, unless we're waiting on anyone else, I think it's about time for us to go."

A murmur goes through the group, the previous cheer ebbing. Even so, none of them protest. They get to their feet and make their way towards the door. Darrick falls into step behind them, pausing in the tavern doorway as he realizes how quiet the tavern has become.

Holding the door open with one hand, he peers back over his shoulder. The bartender catches his eye, and salutes.

Darrick dredges up a grin, toothy and too cocky by half, before he steps out of the tavern. The door bangs closed behind him.

#writersmonth2019 #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #tabris

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pinupac87 · 5 years ago

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Mami...long word. For the word drabble thing. Alistair x Amell, Dragon Age AU, grocery store.

Ooh, I used to work at a grocery store. So I can draw from some person experiences. So here it goes!

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

The deli was unbearably hot. Between the rotisserie, fryers, and the ovens in the back made for an excruciating shift. Even worse, the HVAC guy wasn’t coming in until next week. Joline Amell manned the slicers while Sten and Alistair frantically built up catering orders in the back. They were horribly understaffed; the new part-timer decided to walk out on their break and not return. The lunch rush was in full swing and their manager Duncan told them to go into the freezer to cool off when the store managers weren’t looking.

“Sten, do we still have that block of Finlandia? I’m cutting short on this one.” Joline called out over the sound of the slicers then to the customer, “You wanted a half pound, right?”

“I wanted an eighth of a pound.” The customer said.

Sten shouted back, “Check the freezer! I’ve got my hands full with the grease trap.”

“Okay. On it.” Joline yelled out over the nose of the fryer timer going off.

“Got it!” Alistair moved towards the fryer, careful of the food particles and oil on the floor that had yet to be cleaned.

“Why the hell did the new guy have to quit on us?” Joline complained to herself. The last of the swiss cheese that she was working through was done and she weighed the eighth that the customer asked for. She bagged it and printed out the price tag. “Here you go! Have a good day, Serr! Next up!”

***

Once the rush was finished, they took turns standing in the freezer and playing lookout in case the store manager was walking about. Joline’s knees and feet were in complete agony; everything creaked and popped when she bent and stretched. The heat radiating all around the deli did nothing to help alleviate how lightheaded she was. Her water bottle, as well as the others, stayed in the freezer to remain cool. She sat down on a milk crate that served as a makeshift chair and let the cool air hit her skin, steam forming from her overheated forehead.

The stress from manning the counter alone with Alistair and Sten only able to come out to support when the line was too much was mounting on her. The heat and lack of a break left her feeling faint.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door open. Looking up, she saw Alistair come in. He was as red as she was; sweat pouring down his face and neck. She had noticed a bead of sweat move from the side of his mouth down his neck when he took a swig from his bottle of water.

“Is there another rush?” She asked.

Alistair wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“I hope not. Gregor won’t let us leave until the counter is clean.” He said.

“Sten leave?” Joline ran a hand through her hair before putting her hat back on.

“Mhmm. I don’t know how he can take this heat so well. But since there’s still a lull, we can take care of the fryers and the counter.” He said.

“Thank the Maker.” She said.

***

Their shift was quiet after the last rush. It was free of trouble since Sten managed to not only do the catering orders but take care of the grease trap and mop the floors when Joline was in the freezer. They punched out and said their good nights to the night crew.

Or, at least that was what Joline remembered before her vision went black. When she woke up, Alistair was hovering over her with a worried look on his face. There was a circle of people around her when she looked around. Paramedics were asking her co-workers questions as they checked her vitals.

“Joline, don’t worry. I got you. You’re going to be okay.” Alistair’s voice trembled.

“What-” Joline did her best to get a grip on the situation. “What happened?”

“You passed out, Ma’am. Have you been eating or drinking water today?” An EMT asked.

“Not really, but I’m fine now.-”

Alistair cut in. “But you passed out, Jo!”

Joline shook her head.

“I don’t have insurance yet. I don’t have the money to go to the hospital. I’m fine now. Please, I’m fine.” She insisted, getting up and assuring the paramedics that she was fine to drive home.

***

At their shared apartment, Alistair helped her to the couch and went to the fridge to get her a water and aspirin. The room was still spinning for Joline and was getting worse than she thought.

Alistair walked over to her with a bottle of water and the aspirin, concern written over his face. She knew that he wanted her to go to the hospital, or to the urgent care at the very least.

“Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” He asked.

Joline nodded.

“I can’t afford the bill. My card hasn’t come in yet, so it’ll have to wait. And I have a shift tomorrow-

“I called Duncan. He said to rest up. Oghren will cover for you. You need rest.” He interjected.

He handed her the bottle of water and reached to touch her forehead. The feel of the cold hands was like a beacon in the fog and heat that clouded her mind. It took her a second to see the expression on his face; worry and something else that she was too scared to decipher. His hand moved to cup the side of her face; his thumb swiping her cheek bone as he leaned in close.

Alistair held her like that for an eternity, it seemed. Both of them not moving closer or away. They shared so much; apartment, jobs, love of cheese, and many trials. He helped her when her previous job cut her loose and she had no place to stay. It felt…right being around him. They knew each other for so long and had each other’s back when things were tough.

She knew that this feeling she had for him was not new. They were dancing around whatever this was for a year. And she knew for the longest time that he was in love with her. He showed it in the coffee he made for her with extra marshmallows that he would keep stashed. He would comfort her when stress and anxiety attacks flared up when she was too overwhelmed. The looks he gave when he thought she wasn’t looking during their movie nights together. The same look he was giving her right now.

His eyes flicked down to her lips then back up to meet her eyes. She knew. She knew what they wanted to do. Joline wanted to tell him so badly. Wanted to taste his lips on hers, take him to bed and not leave there until they were sated. Wanted to tell him how much she cared about him. Tell him it was okay to kiss her. She wanted, by Maker she wanted. Wanted to tell him to close the distance and tell him how much she loved him. She wanted to never let go. And she knew that he wanted the same just as badly.

And that scared her more than any anxiety attack or black out she ever had.

Telling him would ruin their friendship. Make things awkward at work and at home. She could lose her job. And where could she be then?

“Joline, I-”

Oh, Maker. Please give me strength.

They stayed frozen on that couch for a moment before Alistair heard his phone go off. The moment broken, he withdrew and walked over to the small kitchen counter to answer his phone.

The room spun for Joline, but this time it wasn’t the fever that she felt was coming on. Her heart was beating frantically. Could she have been able to tell him?

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow when she was not feeling like the room was spinning, she would talk with him.

She fell asleep as she heard Alistair talk to whoever it was on the phone.

End.

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This ended up more than a drabble. But I got carried away once again. Especially since I found a RomCom playlist on Spotify. So blame that.

#Different Drum Blog #writing #writing promt #prompt list #alistair x amell #Joline Amell #Alistair #Dragon Origins #i'm in dragon age hell

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