#so she's in the Fade currently. trying to rescue Alistair

[sage-nebula]

Apparently, choosing to trick Solas with the fake dagger is the neutral ending (or a good ending? I'm confused by the various terminology I've seen around online). The best ending is the one where you talk him down.

But I . . . don't agree lol. Like I feel like it's semantics? Yeah that scene is longer, but the end result is the same; everyone lives except for who you sent to run distraction (RIP Harding 😭), the blighted companion gets healed, Solas is in the fade, etc. It seems like people are determining "best ending" based on whether Solas is happy or not (and whether a romanced Lavellan can be with him, which didn't apply to me since I played Trevelyan and romanced Josephine).

So as far as I'm concerned, I did get the best ending by tricking him with the fake dagger. Yes, my Inquisitor wanted to save him, because Lucia was a pacifist who considered everyone in the Inquisition's Inner Circle to be an irreplaceable companion. But the choice wasn't up to her. It was up to Thalia Mercar, who'd been deceived and used, had her mentor and a close friend die, and as a Shadow Dragon had dedicated her life for over ten years to bringing down those in power who were corrupt, no matter how sad their backstories might be. No gods, no masters, and that included the Dread Wolf.

It just so happens that she was also a purple rogue, and so that besting him at his own game: trickery.

I finished Veilguard! I truly loved it. I don't think I've been this sucked into a Dragon Age game since Origins; both 2 and Inquisition had points where I felt like they were dragging, but I never felt like that with this one. In fact, it almost feels too short, and I went out of my way to do every single quest possible. I don't know if I got the best possible ending or not (will look into that later), but all I can say is . . . man, I wish we had Keep support for this game; I wish I could have built my choices into a tapestry again.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch.62 - The Shadow and the Flame

Chapter Rating: Teen Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 or start at Chapter 1

---

She wandered, lost. The world around her only took shape when she looked at it out of the corner of her eye, otherwise it drifted, hazy, swirls of insubstantial green fog that stroked over her skin like cold fingers. She shivered, and drew her arms across her chest as if she were caught out in a rainstorm, though she couldn’t feel the water, or smell the wind, or hear anything but the harshness of her own breath in her ears. When she tried to work out where she might be, how long she might have been walking, a deep pain twisted in her gut, on the left side, which brought her stumbling to her knees. Something lurked in the shadows just beyond her sight, huge and looming, and apparently content to follow at a distance.  

She’s still fighting…

The voice echoed, not quite in her mind but neither voiced in the air around her. It held the familiarity of a distant vibration of thunder, a warmth against her face that put strength back into her legs and stoked her courage to keep going. She kept the hulking shadow that watched her on her right side, like a landmark, fighting the itch on the back of her neck that urged her to break into a run. Every nerve in her body screamed not to go near it, whatever it was, but turning her back on it completely filled her with even greater dread. Its malicious amusement licked over her skin, cast doubt in her mind. Where was she going? What would she accomplish by simply trudging on until she dropped of exhaustion? There was something she was meant to be doing, some place she had to reach. Her right arm tingled, and the pain in her side worsened, but she used the discomfort to focus, to order her thoughts and shake loose the panic clutching at her chest.

Her feet crunched over black dirt. Hours passed. She realised she was in armour, the rattle of mail against plate with every step nudging something in her memory. There ought to be a battle – her aurum cuirass was stained with red – and as green mist swirled around her ankles, shapes solidified in the distance, spears and corpses and pendulous, tattered banners, but as with everything else in this strange world, they vanished like fish scattering before the shadow of a heron when she tried to look. Her step bounced too lightly over the earth without the weight of a sword to hold her down.  

She blinked, halted. Somehow, the mass she had been watching from the corner of her eye had risen in front of her again, but before she could turn about or even wonder how she had become confused, the mist parted and the shape resolved itself into the gatehouse of Castle Cousland. Nobody hallooed her from the battlements, and yet the great oak door stood unbarred, the portcullis raised, and so she let herself be drawn further on.

As soon as she stepped into the bailey, she wished she had stayed outside. The ghostly remains of the battle she had seen before returned to plague her sight, but this time the bodies strewn over the ground like autumn leaves bore the colours of houses she knew. Cousland dead, with West Hill and Rainesfere and Redcliffe slumped before their standards, and right in the centre, in a knot of broken, twisted limbs, the cream and gold banner of the royal house drifted in a breeze she didn’t feel, the scarlet War Dogs still reared and snarling at an enemy that had long since passed them by.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away. “This isn’t right…”

This is your failure.

She flinched at the voice, ducked and spun on her heel, grasping for the sword hilt that was not there. Unlike the one she had heard before, this boomed over her head and clamoured in her ears like the blow of a carnyx. Her eyes darted wildly over the battlefield to try and locate the speaker, to end it if she could.

How pathetic you are, her enemy jeered. You think to use your might against me, but what good is it when you can’t even save them?

The dead came into sharper focus, their faces – had they had faces, before? She saw Morrence, her mouth still gaping in a final battle cry, Gideon trapped beneath his horse, and Cailan, the gleam of his armour crusted black with blood.

“No…”

You were not worth your father’s sacrifice.

“No!” she cried, and whirled again. “This isn’t the truth – this can’t be what happened!”

You didn’t make it to them in time, the voice explained, as if she were stupid. You couldn’t save any of them. Did you think you mattered – that anything you did mattered?

Stalking through the paths of the once-familiar bailey, she ground her teeth to try and drown out the mocking in her ears, alert for any unexpected movement that might reveal the whereabouts of her tormentor. Ahead of her, the walls continued their silent vigil, their facing streaked with soot, and their heights obscured by a swirling bank of dark cloud. The keep steps were slippery with blood.

“This isn’t what happened,” she repeated, turning. As she watched, the battlefield disintegrated, bodies rotting to bones, bones flaking to dust, dust blowing away in that same unseemly wind that never touched her face, and something deep in her gut told her that if she kept watching, the walls themselves would crack and fall to rubble, and she would be the only thing left in the world as the stars above winked out.

Tears tracked warm down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, denying the vision. “Help me.”

“I’m here.”

Not expecting an answer, she started. Alistair stood before her on the terrace, dressed in dark clothes she had never seen before, with something in his stance that kept him aloof, and cold, and beyond her reach. A phantom pressure closed on her hand as she breathed his name, the familiarity of it disjointed against the strange non-feeling that gripped the rest of her body. She realised she ought to be in pain, or at least tired from all the fighting, and instead there was only a strange hollowness, a lack of weight like the first fog of a headcold.

“After what you’ve done, you have some nerve showing your face here,” Alistair said, breaking the line of her thoughts.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You were exiled,” he scoffed. “Cousland is a black name – for all that matters, since you’ll die alone and unloved. Unmourned. Forgotten in some hovel with nothing but foxes and flies for company.”

“Why are you saying this?” She shook her head, tried to clear her vision of the haze that blurred him at the edges. “There’s something wrong here. Something’s following me.”

“Why should I care?”  

“Don’t you?”

He tilted a pitying look at her distress, and sighed as if she were a child forcing his patience. “I never loved you, Rosslyn.”

“I don’t believe it,” she countered.  

“I felt sorry for you. I was curious, and now I’m bored of you.”

The words cut, but worse was the sneering edge of the smile he turned on her, which widened and twisted into something unrecognisable as a lump rose in the back of her throat.

“This isn’t you,” she managed. “You aren’t cruel.”

“I lied.”

“No…” Something clicked. “You’re a demon.”

The image of Alistair dissolved with a snarl. Rosslyn stepped back, glancing around for a trick, only to catch movement above her, at the top of the keep. The dark cloud that had been sitting on the walls coalesced into solid form. It twitched. She recognised mouthparts – pincers like those of a spider, and long, chitinous legs that unfolded themselves as the creature reached towards her. There were eyes everywhere, not just on its head but down its limbs, milky-white orbs bulging like pustules from its legs and all over its body. True horror welled in her chest, then. She had no weapon, nothing to defend herself, no one to help her, and as its voice once more boomed over her head, a foetid stink caught in her nose and she knew she would not escape.

Do you think to fight me? it mocked as she squared her shoulders nonetheless. Do you think this is the first time you thought to face me? You are a worm on a hook, and I have many like you under my spell. Its laugh shivered across her skin, like hailstones on a pond. I know the little lost wolf cub who dreamed of a better world, and the mortal mage who thought to wield the power of a god for his people, the freeholder’s boy who tried to rescue his country. All of them are more powerful than you, and yet all are beholden to me, all dance on my strings. I puppet them and they give me their fears, they feed me. What hope did you ever have?

She broke. She fled. Down the steps, through the barbican, out into the wastes with the Nightmare laughing and scuttling at her heels. She was in the Fade, she had to be – she had to wake up, the rest could be figured out later. The warmth in her left hand grew stronger, drawing her like a beacon –

The ground gave out beneath her feet. The sickening crack of ice that she knew so well, and then that instant of weightlessness, the shock of cold and the blind, bubbling panic as the water closed over her head. She hadn’t even seen the river. The current tugged at her as she twisted and kicked upwards, but the hole where she had fallen in had vanished. Her fists banged against a glass-clear sheet of brackish ice, and for a moment the world above was dark, void, the last thing she would ever see.

And then a roaring grew in her ears, a huge beat of air like the strain of sailcloth in a storm, and with it a burst of red-orange light that flared with a heat she felt even from her prison, and then even the green tendrils of mist were swallowed by darkness. Her lungs were bursting. The current in her ears swirled with the sound of voices, distant and ebbing, but pulling her away nonetheless. She scrabbled at the ice above her, desperate, only to freeze again when a flash of light above outlined the shape of something with wings and a long, serpentine neck that shrank and transformed into the outline of a human-sized figure. The glitter of scales became a glint of mail, the dragon’s horns echoed in the iron crown sat atop the figure’s head. The details were fuzzy, and Rosslyn wondered distantly if it were magic or just the drowning.

Well, well, what have we here? the stranger asked. As with the Nightmare, the words entered directly into her head, though these were gentler, and she could see lips moving in the shadows of the woman’s face. A mouse ever so eager to get back to the cat’s paws. A smile. No, child. You must breathe.

It was a command. Compelled, she inhaled. Cold water filled her mouth, her throat burned, and with a pair of yellow eyes gleaming at her, the river sucked her down into nothingness.

[queen-scribbles]

WIP tag meme

Tagged by @greyias

Take three (or less if you are a responsible writer who is not all over the place ;) ) pieces you’ve been working on in the past few weeks and post a paragraph of each and give a short description and tell people why they should look forward to it! (praise yourself like you deserve it!)

tag your fellow author friends for a peak into their heads!

--

Only one has an actual snippet, but I can describe and self-promo for a couple more. ;)

WIP 1:  [Briyoni] delegated the choosing of a replacement to Jorgan, forwarded all the dossiers Commander Malcolm sent her to him. She trusted his judgment on this, didn't trust her own. Besides, she was too busy. Between Havoc ops--and there were a lot of them, fighting both the Sith Empire and the newly emerged Eternal Empire--she was comming every contact she had, trying to find a loophole or sufficient leverage to get Dorne back. She got so desperate she even contacted the Jedi Temple, reaching out to the older sister she'd never met, only to be informed that Master Vica, Barsen'thor of the Jedi Order, had been on Darth Marr's flagship as an ally and Jedi liaison to the Wild Space Expedition.

Description: Brykar longfic, set during the five years the will-be-Outlander(Bry’s sister Vica) is in carbonite, covering at least part of what my girl and her spy boy get up to.

Why you should look forward to it: I mean, it’s Brykar, why wouldn’t you?. I kid, I kid. I’m not so arrogant as to assume my character/ship’s mere presence makes a fic worth reading. But seriously, it’s f!Trooper/Jonas Balkar, main storyline is her looking for/rescuing him when his SIS team is left on Denon during the Eternal Empire invasion and occupation. includes the Eclipse mess, now on beautiful Hoth for an extra level of challenge, will be both established relationship and a... variation on slow burn(they’re Together as in engaged, but not together as in in the same place until, like, the last 1/3 of the fic), will have both Dorne siblings AND Fuse in supporting roles, and heavily features the Nerai Snark(TM) even if she doesn’t have Jonas to banter with.

WIP 2: Is Of Wardens and Pariahs, but since I just posted a new chapter a week and a half ago, the next one is still in the outline stage and I have no paragraph to give you.

Description: Joined canon AU for Dragon Age: Origins where my Amell and @errantgoat’s Cousland were both recruited to the Grey Wardens and have to overcome personality conflicts in addition to saving the fucking world. Only time will tell which is the more difficult.

Why you should look forward to it: Aside from the fact Harvey Cousland is quite possibly my favorite Warden EVER(including my own /cough sorry kids)? It’s co-written, Alex(Harvey’s mama) is amazing, and while we’re basically following the major plot points from the game, we’re not verbatim hitting every detail. For example, we’re currently on the Lost in Dreams arc and Alex wrote a bunch of chapters from Harvey’s POV that are fantastic (biased, who me??) and get through a bunch of the  “necessary” steps for the arc without being straight-up retread of what you do for that part of the game. (Look, I love Harvey, and I love Alex, and especially how she writes Fade Stuff, and I’m not gonna shut up about how great she is, k? K <3) And having three Wardens instead of two does some fun interesting things to the group dynamics(especially since Trinne and Harvey are so very, very different, personality-wise. Poor Alistair.), so those are fun to see. Idk, I still love DAO fics even thought the game’s ten years old, so I don’t need much encouragement to read/write them. :P How do I market myself, help

WIP 3: not a fic, but the Tragen meta is longer than some things I write and it’s not done yet, OY.

Description: character analysis/backstory/motivation for my Sith Warrior, Tragen Xo’ric.

Why you should look forward to it: It’s me rambling/getting emotional over my Lawful Good Paladin archetype SITH son for (so far) 3k words. What’s not to look forward to? :D

Annnd I’m gonna snag @storyknitter, since she’s been my enabler on that Brykar thing :3 and.... hmm. let’s say @haledamage 

[bigherosixfeels]

Big Roommates REVIEW

SPOILERS BELOW

Well, the US is still waiting for new episodes of the show to come out. A new programming strategy is causing the delay, but the UK are getting these new episodes. It's frustrating, but I do hope this strategy ends up being good for the network.

For those wondering, yes, I do plan on reviewing each episode of the show. I like being able to talk about what happened and voicing some opinions at the end. So let's do this!

The episode begins in the school cafeteria with Fred and Gogo looking at mystery loaf which not only looks disgusting, but it also moves like Jell-O and I'm concerned as to why this is being served at the school. Although, according to Baymax, it won't cause any permanent damage to eat it which is reassuring enough to Fred until he tastes cilantro. 

Meanwhile, Honey Lemon is reloading her chem purse at the table which is worrisome to Hiro, but fun for her since she gets to be around both her best friends and chemistry. Wasabi then rushes to the table in relief to see that Honey Lemon is alive. Apparently she had tried to make instant ice after her roommate made lemonade and she froze up her entire apartment (including her roommate). How...how did Regina get to...nevermind. 

The gang is discussing where Honey Lemon could live for the time being. Fred mentions that Gogo has her own place, but Gogo shoots back mentioning his mansion. It would work out, but his parents insist on doing in-depth three year background checks for overnight guests. Honestly, given how rich they are, I don't blame them for taking precautions like that. Gogo tries to explain to Honey that she wouldn't like her place due to it being in a sketchy neighborhood, but Honey being the optimistic person that she is doesn't think it'll be that bad. Gogo then caves and agrees to letting her stay at her place. Honey is continuing to show her optimism and there's a discussion of whether or not the glass is half-full or half-empty. Wasn't there a Tumblr post explaining how that works? If liquid is added, it's half-full. If liquid is taken out it's half-empty. Something like that?

Everyone is happy to help Honey Lemon move in. Wasabi notes that there's a lot of jaywalkers in the neighborhood. Honey is happy to meet new faces and bedazzle a biker's motorcycle. The biker, who is properly introduced as Felony Carl, loves the glitter because it shows how comfortable he is with his masculinity. It's official. Felony Carl is amazing. 

We're then introduced to Dibbs, a guy that walks proud, but is a terrible thief. He does manage to get a hold of an elderly lady's purse for about a second before instant karma literally hits him in the face and the purse gets back into her possession. He then spots Honey Lemon's chem purse out in the open. Rather than an easy snag, the purse ends up on a taxi and he jumps on the cab and falls off the car before making a run. 

It's now night time and we're at an abandoned warehouse. Wait. Is this the same warehouse from the movie? If so, that's a great callback! Anyway, Dibbs talks to a rat about his (probably only) successful attempt at stealing. He doesn't understand that this isn't a normal purse, but his attempts to open it are cut short due to a couple people coming in. 

We're reintroduced to Alistair Krei and his assistant! I was wondering when we'd be seeing him again. The reasoning for them being in the warehouse is that he's hiding something. A supposed "better version" of Hiro's neurotransmitter. Basically if you wear it, you can control anything linked to it with your mind. The only reason this version is better to him is because it's just different enough so he can't get sued. Congratulations, Krei. You're losing brownie points with me. 

Overhearing that it'll be worth billions, Dibbs successfully steals it for himself. Unfortunately for him, the chem purse gets stuck and chemicals are released onto Dibbs, covering his entire body. He's now what is considered to be a monster. 

It's now the next morning in Gogo's (and now Honey Lemon's) apartment. Honey is settling into the apartment, opening a box that releases an incredible amount of butterflies. They must be so happy to be free. The girls have rather different daily activities. Gogo punching a punching bag interferes with Honey's focus to meditate. Honey adding cute stickers to the fridge and everything inside it irks Gogo. Gogo accidentally destroys some of Honey's flowers. Honey's snoring causes Gogo to not get any sleep. The iconic Oh My God They Were Roommates™ vine is on loop in my head. 

Later on, the gang (minus Fred) are at the cafe and Honey is asking if anyone has seen her chem purse. Gogo immediately believes it was stolen, but Honey doesn't think that's the case. Due to the lack of sleep, Gogo is exhausted and lulled to sleep by Baymax's calm music. The relaxing moment is broken by Fred who excitedly bursts through the door. He's ecstatic over the fact that there's a monster in the city. Nobody else believes this (despite the news report) because monsters aren't real. Of course, Fred won't let the matter drop unless the others check it out. Hiro decides to join Fred on this monster hunt. Meanwhile, the others are headed for Gogo and Honey Lemon's apartment. Baymax proceeds to pick up a sleeping Gogo and cradle her in his arms which is the most wholesome content I think we've gotten so far. Seriously, that was adorable! 

Hiro and Fred are investigating for any clues that a monster has been around. Hiro steps in some chemical goop. Fred gets a sample on his finger and sniffs it up his nose. Ew. Then he (why did he do this) took it out the other nostril and put it on Hiro's face. WHY. Fred then proceeds to sing a song about how he was right about the monster which doesn't amuse Hiro in the slightest. The sound of screams has both of them jumping into actions (well, Fred is still singing, but you get the point). 

Back at the apartment, Gogo has awoken from her nap and there has been no luck with finding Honey's purse. Gogo keeps explaining how is was probably (and it was) stolen, but Honey doesn't want to accept her negative views. The girls begin the argue; Gogo stating it's hard to respect someone who's happy all the time and Honey stating it's hard to understand why she's always so serious and cool. They storm off, but screaming from outside catches everyone's attention. 

The monster is confidently walking in the street and Big Hero 6 is officially in action for the episode! Baymax scans him, stating what we already know, but he does have fragments of Honey's purse within the goop. Honey feels concerned for him, but the mention of a purse has him nervous. His attempt to flee is quickly cut short on two occasions. While he clearly doesn't have the hang of his new abilities, the team doesn't have an easy time against him. 

Hiro and Fred join the fight. Fred comes up with the name Globby for our villain, which doesn't settle well with him. He asks the cliche "Can things get any worse?" and is immediately hit by a bus.

Taking Globby down is on pause for the time being and Honey is upset knowing that she should have been more careful with her stuff. She apologizes numerous times, even after Gogo points out she's doing so too much. Our usual bubbly, cheerful character has hit a rough patch. 

Back inside the apartment, Wasabi is trying to remove goop from his suit while he, Gogo and Fred watch the news. Fred considers naming Globby his legacy. Meanwhile, Hiro is finishing up making Honey a new chem purse, but this doesn't please her. Gogo takes note of her friends’ somber mood and attempts to cheer her up. What she says doesn't get through to Honey and Baymax tries to help with a hug. That also doesn't work and Honey is ready to "face the darkness of reality". 

The gang watches as Honey begins to create a compound that will un-stick the goop from Globby. Honey mentions that her beaker is half-empty, but Gogo argues that it's half-full. The discussion from earlier in the episode has reversed on the characters, leaving them all surprised. 

We cut to Globby at a restaurant with Felony Carl. He mentions that he's having a hard time with his now mutated body (he grabbed a cat instead of a spoon). Felony Carl takes note of the headband that Globby admits he doesn't know how to use it, but seeing a photo of Krei sparks a new idea for him. 

We get a quick shot of Krei Tech (rebuilt and everything!). And what is Krei up to now? Getting a statue of himself made. Of course. During the process of getting his sculpture finished, Globby breaks through the window and takes the statue before realizing his mistake and kidnapping Krei himself. 

Meanwhile, Honey is continuing to make an un-sticky ball. Her negative attitude has yet to fade and Baymax suggests that a pleasant image may help. As he says this, some of Honey's butterflies flutter around Baymax. Gogo considers that a sign, but Honey doesn't want to see it that way. 

Wasabi gets everyone's attention to watch the news which is about what happened to Krei earlier. I'm really glad that we're hearing his assistant talk and getting a feel for her personality. She seems nice and a little funny too. 

Globby has Krei stuck to him as he climbs to the top of a building. He refuses to let him go until he explains how the headband works. Krei tries to get the neurotransmitter back while Bluff Dunder covers the current situation on live TV. Krei explains that all Globby has to do is think for it to work naturally. 

Big Hero 6 comes to his rescue and immediately jumps into action. Bluff Dunder continues his constant updates. Honey offers Globby the chem ball that will help un-stick him. Globby is visibly stressed because all he wants to do is concentrate on thinking. He knows he's been making some bad choices lately and Baymax suggests positive reinforcement. The group looks to Honey who is unsure if she should, but Gogo assures her that her upbeat attitude takes getting used to, but it's good for her. These words finally get through to Honey and the girls share a quick hug before Honey starts to help Globby. Globby doesn't want to accept what she has to say at first because no one has ever believed in him. However, hearing that he can dedicate himself to making the best out of his situation and that he's special because no one else has his abilities inspires him. 

Despite accepting himself as he is, Krei wants his prototype back and his attempt to un-stick Globby almost costs him his life when he slips off the building. Globby manages to use his new abilities to save Krei, earning an awkward thanks from him. Globby thinks all the thanks goes to Honey since she believes in him. He announces that his days of being a purse thief are over, which pleases Honey until he states what he'll be doing now. He's determined to be a super villain, making a sticky escape. The episode ends with him smacking himself into a window. 

Overall, I thought this was a pretty enjoyable episode. There was humor, heart and an interesting origin story for our new super villain. 

I really liked the character development that we got for Honey Lemon. I'm glad that we got to see a side of her that wasn't her usual self. Her negative attitude is a complete 180 for her. I enjoyed that Gogo continuously tried to help her feel better until it actually worked. Despite the differences that they had prior to Honey being sad, Gogo put that aside and was later on able to get through to her. Just...ugh that was amazing. 

Globby is an interesting character. He's pretty comical throughout the episode, so he doesn't strike me to be a major threat for the time being. Of course, I'm sure we'll be seeing him again (If the description for Failure Mode is correct, we'll be seeing him pretty soon too.) I imagine once he learns to get a better hang of his abilities, he'll be more of a challenge. As I said earlier, I like that Globby got a little origin story of how he became Globby and it'll be cool to see him again. I'm glad that there's a good reason for the chemical compound being attached to him.

Speaking of the neurotransmitter, it was nice to see Krei again. I've always been indifferent to his character since the movie and I'm still indifferent now. He's still as money hungry as he was when we were first introduced to him so I'm not entirely surprised he's still like that. I have to admit that I'm disappointed to see that he has created a "better version" of Hiro's neurotransmitter. He wasn't able to accept Hiro's rejected offer and knowing that he's pretty much copied it continues to show his arrogance. I don't feel bad that Globby stole his prototype. Still, I can always appreciate seeing a familiar face and if he ends up building Tadashi Hamada Hall (I really hope that happens in the show), he may earn those brownie points back. 

I loved our side characters from this episode! Felony Carl was such a highlight to this episode. He may be a one-off character (or we might see him again who knows), but he's so great. I'm also glad that we finally heard Krei's assistant talk. I'm sure we'll see more of her because we'll be seeing more of Krei. 

I'm really liking the humor in the show too. There's always just the right amount of it and each joke is played out well. Wasabi had some funny lines. I liked Honey Lemon's "It's time to face the darkness of reality" line. I got a kick out of the scene where Globby took Krei's statue before realizing he didn't take Krei himself and came back to get him. Bluff Dunder was pretty funny during the last scene too. 

I also I liked when some goop got on Baymax and Wasabi said, "Nobody does that to Baymax and gets away with it!" Lines like that are small things that I'm happy to hear. 

I'm still not over Baymax cradling Gogo while she slept. That was so pure and adorable and I loved it very much. 

The style of the show continues to grow on me more and more witch each episode. I love the character designs for the new characters and I think Krei and his assistant look pretty good. The animation flow isn't bothering me either. Every once in awhile, the lip syncing is just a tad bit awkward, but it's easy to look past (for me anyway). The scenery looks so good! This style honestly brings San Fransokyo to life. 

On a scale of one to ten...I'd rate Big Roommates an 8!

[dovalord123]

Grief Regret Acceptance

(Revised)

The night was cold as the Grey Wardens laid in their tents, struggling to sleep through the cold as the air that kept them awake and. Even in full armor, they shivered until sleep finally came. Torches shine bright orange and red around the camp for everyone to see. Some wardens huddled around fires to worm himself into sleeping. Guards patrolled, baring their own torches, making sure no one was sneaking about. Off the distance, one of the guards spots a man riding horseback directly towards the camp.

The Grey Warden readies his weapon, gripping the handle of his blade. The Horse Rider greets the Warden as a messenger for the Inquisition and he steps off his horse. The Warden offers him shelter from the cold night as the Horse rider hands him a letter bearing the insignia of the Inquisition, claiming they were for the Warden commander’s eyes only.

In the center of camp, the Warden Commander, aka the Hero Of Ferelden, observes a map of Thedas for the hundredth time. The map had specific points circled, but some were crossed with an X. No one could tell who or what exactly the Warden Commander was looking for unless she told them herself. The Warden guard makes himself known to the Warden-Commander has he enters, giving her the letter from the Inquisition, then leaving the camp to resume his patrol. The Warden commander wastes no time opening the letter, knowing that her beloved was currently occupied with the inquisition. She began to read:

Hero of Ferelden:

It is, with a heavy heart, that I must inform you of the tragedy that occurred not long ago.

I shall keep this letter brief and straight to the point.

During the siege of the Grey Warden fortress, Corypheus’s dragon attacked. In a near-death decision, I opened a rift into the fade in order to save myself, my companions, Hawke, and Alistair from falling to our deaths.

Before we could make it out, a fear demon had blocked our path of escape, and Alistair volunteered to cover us as “redemption for the Wardens involvement” he put it.

During our time in the Fade, Alistair openly admitted to the Wardens involvement with Corypheus.

The Grey Wardens have held their ceremony for Alistair, and are rebuilding their order with the help of the Inquisition as we speak.

It is unlikely that he has survived in the Fade for this long. I have attempted time after time to re-open another rift into the fade and rescue him, but it is much too complicated for me to write on this letter.

I shall send my fastest courier to you if any news of Alistair is uncovered.

Sincerely: The Inquisitor

The Warden-Commander finished reading the final words, her heart sank into the Fade itself. Tears dropped from her eyes onto the letter. Her fists clenched in anger. “Damn you, Alistair,” she said with a brief smile crossing her face. “Did you even think About how’d I feel? You selfless bastard” she choked on her own words.

Grief

Meanwhile, in Skyhold, The Inquisitor stood in her quarters. She pointed her hand out for the 20th time in the past hour. Her hand glowed dark green as she attempts to reopen a portal into the fade. Her hand crackles as the green aura grown in size. She shrieks in pain as the mark felt as if it were trying to turn the inquisitor’s hand inside out. “WHY WON’T YOU OPEN, DAMMIT!” she screamed as the pain was getting worse and worse. But the inquisitor did not stop until she felt her hand split open.

screams came from the Inquisitor’s quarters. Everyone in the War room heard them as Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine rush up stair after stair to investigate. Cullen attempted to open the door but it wouldn’t move because the Inquisitor locked it. Cullen gestures for Leliana and Josephine to stand back as he kicked the door off its hinges and into the floor. The three advisors are struck with horror in sight of the room before them. The Inquisitor sits on her knees, one hand gripping the mark that glowed green and sobbing in pain.

Cullen approaches and is suddenly paralyzed at the sight of the mark. The hand was glowing dark green, ooze flowed from what could be described as a gash, followed by Blood. Blood also stained other parts of the wooden floor, indicating the inquisitor had suffered the same experience more than once. “Get Solus, now!” Leliana and Josephine rush out of the room doing as Cullen instructed. The inquisitor turns to face Cullen, eyes red and swollen from all the tears flowing down her cheeks from both pain and grief. Cullen embraces the inquisitor, comforting her to the best of his ability. “Why?” she asked, “why did I have to choose?”

Regret

Alistair sits near a peninsula rock, exhausted and out of breath. He stares into the oblivion sky as it swirls into darkness. He felt like he had killed every demon in the fade three times over. But He couldn’t rest until the Divine arrives so that she may protect him and give him. Alistair shut his eyes for a moment, hoping to wake up in his bed when he reopened them, with his beloved right beside him. Suddenly, he heard his name being called.

The voice was female and was immediately recognizable by Alistair. He stood up, looking around, eyes wondering. Then he sees her. The Warden commander stood before him, a warm smile on her face. She extended her hand towards Alistair saying the words “let’s go home”. Alistair approaches the Warden commander as he slowly extends his hand. He knew it was a demon in disguise, he knew his decision would mean death, yet he did not care, he wanted the torment to end. Alistair freezes as he almost joins hands with the Warden Commander.

In a puddle of water, he sees the Divine from afar, watching in anticipation. Alastair unsheathes his sword and cuts the disguised demon in half. The Warden-Commander shimmers into a demon as it is cut in two. The Divine approaches Alistair. She begins to construct a ball of divine energy that protects Alistar, allowing him to sleep. “Not yet,” he says to himself as he begins to lie on the ground. “Not until I see her one last time”

Acceptance Defiance

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 57 - The Ambush

Chapter Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Demisexuality, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3 First chapter on AO3

--

Twenty-seventh day of Firstfall, 9:32 Dragon

They left Rothsbridge early the next morning, in a slim-lined clinker vessel called Windcaller. Swollen with meltwater, the river took them quickly downstream, past eddies of dirty brown foam and dangerous jams of submerged trees that poked up into the middle of the current to shear off the keels of unsuspecting vessels, until by early afternoon the banks yawned and flattened on either side and the rushing, silt-heavy water churned against the rising, iron-grey tide. Rosslyn’s hands gripped white against the open tiller the entire way, her eyes pared on the waves parting before the bows. The ship’s design made it more flexible than the larger, sturdier vessels used to cross the Waking Sea, its keel like the spine of a cat under the stroke of a hand, so that it glided through the water instead of pitching against each wave. It made for less roll along the deck, but it brought the rail closer to the waterline, and every large wave that slapped spray against the hull made her flinch.

That night, when they finally hauled up on a sheltered beach to camp, her legs wobbled with the relief of being on dry land. Their berth until morning lay on the windward side of Barraigh, the southernmost of the island string that sheltered Highever’s northwest coast from the worst of its winter storms, and which would shelter them from the prying eyes of any Amaranthine patrols. The light faded quickly as the weather descended from a fine drizzle to freezing, soupy fog that made the fire hiss, and once all the tasks for setting camp had been completed, Rosslyn sat with the rest of the party huddled under one of the extra blankets with Cuno as they waited for the food to cook. In other circumstances, she would have insisted on a separation between the ranks, but here their resources were finite, and since she and Alistair were the only two with any standing of consequence, turning it into a point of contention would have undermined the formal distance they had agreed on at the inn.

She was content to watch him, in any case. He sat on the other side of the fire between Hobbs and Dan, regaling them all in between mouthfuls of stew with a story from his time as a soldier in Rainesfere. Every so often, his eyes met hers over the flickering light of the fire before darting away again, and every time his mouth curved just a fraction upwards before he moved on, framing his tale with expansive gestures of his hands. It was the same easy camaraderie she had seen in him so many months before, in the guard house when they were cleaning equipment on Teagan’s orders. Back then, she had envied his ability to set others at ease, to draw them in with conversation no matter their station, disguising any of his own discomfort with laughter. Even now, it was a talent she could not seem to cultivate.

“I’m going to turn in,” she announced once the meal was finished and the flames began to die down.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay up just a bit longer?”  

He offered a hopeful smile, but it didn’t reach the worry in his eyes, and her answer stalled on her tongue, if only for a moment. Her mind drifted to an image of the two of them alone, sharing the silence as they shared warmth, and she forced it away. Her own desires meant little in the face of what they were about to do.

“We’ll have to be boarded and away with the tide, so we’ll need to rise early,” she said. “And it’s been a long day. Good night.”

His reply followed her into her tent, and it took her a long time to get to sleep.

--

The weather stayed with them over the next few days, and their schedule remained constant. Rising with the dawn, they spent daylight hours sailing, until they found a suitable beach and hauled Windcaller ashore for the night’s camp. For the most part, they saw no other ships daring the contrary winds, and only for a brief moment on the third day were they noticed themselves. A Clayne cutter looming out of the mist turned for them, gained, and only veered away when Rosslyn ordered the crew to raise the string of signal flags that identified them as a hunting vessel. When it finally stopped shadowing them, she felt the sigh of relief ripple through her people and shared it, though seeing the way they all closed together ready for a fight gave her hope for the task that lay ahead. Leliana and Amell in particular had grown close, and in idle moments their shared laughter could be heard across the deck as they joked with the soldiers or cheated each other at cards.

At noon on the fifth day, they finally rounded the coast of Fiolan, the north island, and Castle Cousland came into view, a blurred dot perched on the highest point of the headland, sulking against the threat of lowering cloud. Rosslyn stiffened when she spotted it, the manner of a hawk that sees the movement of a mouse in the grass. The whole crew had been tense and quiet since that morning, knowing that it would be the last day before their assault, but with their goal so clearly in view, nervous energy grew among them like the first creeping spread of a fire in a barn. She steered them closer in to the shadow of the cliffs, where the currents ran stronger but they were less likely to draw suspicion, and the soldiers on deck put away the gear they were polishing and took out nets instead in order to keep up the charade of innocence for any interested eyes passing along the headland.

They had gone over the plan in full the night before, learned the hidden way into the castle through the maze of ancient tunnels carved into the bedrock, discussed how to take the keep level by level, and then the best route to the barbican to send the signal to Cailan’s forces. Her poorly sketched plans, the manifestation of all her family’s secrets, had been burnt once the discussion was over, and now all that remained was the waiting, and the slowly dwindling stretch of water that separated her from her vengeance. She would not let Howe slip the noise again; her duty as a Cousland forbade it.

“So that’s castle Cousland,” Alistair mused next to her.

She blinked and tore her gaze from the horizon. She had been so focussed, his approach had gone unnoticed. Less difficult to miss was the gentle concern in his eyes, a slight downturn of his mouth that for some reason made her bristle.

“Yes, it is,” she answered, turning her attention forward again. And then, when it seemed something else needed to fill the space between them, added, “It’s not as big as Redcliffe.”

His arms folded casually over his chest. “It’s what, four leagues away, five?”

“Seven. It was eight from Fiolan but we’ve a good wind.”

“So it might be a good time to take a break, then?” The suggestion came slowly, carefully, and he turned towards the stern to keep it between themselves.

She rolled her shoulders back and didn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Nobody here knows this stretch of coast as well as I do.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I don’t need your worry.”

A sigh. “You’ll be no good to anyone if you turn up at Highever exhausted.”

“And what’s the alternative?” she snapped. “Foundering here, where there’s nothing but cliffs and no hope of rescue? If we drown, no one else is going to help Cailan, no one will take the castle, and Howe wins. I’m not going to let that happen.”

For a long moment, he held her glare, a retort working on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it back and turned away. “Of course not.”

She almost called out to him as he stalked to the hatch. Regret churned in her stomach. They were all cold, drenched with spray and rain, in garments stiff with salt, flagging after long nights sleeping on coarse sand that itched into every crease of clothing. She was right that they needed to stay focussed, but though every nerve in her body urged towards the end of their voyage, to completing the mission, to being home again, he deserved better from her.

“Hobbs!” she called.

“Aye, Ma’am?”

“Take over here. Keep to the blue, the foam shows where the currents clash – and if you have to change course, make small adjustments.”

“Aye, Ma’am,” Hobbs replied. “And I’ll shout if you’re needed.”

Alistair was turned away from her as she came down the gangway, perched on the stowed bedrolls with his armour laid across his lap. Apart from the glow of a storm lantern, only a dim slant of daylight let him see what he was doing, but he didn’t look up when her shadow fell across the pauldron in his hands.

“Hey.”

He paused his work, but otherwise didn’t react, and she realised she had followed him without any idea of what to say. Excuses and explanations rang through her head, but they were nothing new and they rang hollow even as each one lined up on her tongue, unworthy of him.

“It wasn’t fair of me to snap at you,” she said eventually, defeated. “You were only trying to help.”

“And you keep shutting me out.” Sighing, he set aside the pauldron in his hands and raked his fingers through his hair.

She dropped her gaze. “I’m here now.”

“You’re so stubborn.” At last he rose, hunched over to keep from hitting his head on the low beams, the note of fondness in his voice holding her there as he reached for her. “I meant what I said the other morning. You don’t have to do this alone.”

The pitch of the ship brought them closer, the timbers creaking. Alistair kept one hand braced against the beam to steady them, but the other hugged tight around her shoulders. She moulded herself to him with barely a thought beyond a curse for the weather layers that kept his warmth from her.

“It isn’t just you and me here,” she murmured over the slosh of waves against the hull. “As much as I want to just… run away from it all, everyone out there is expecting me to lead them, and if I let my worries slip loose even for a moment, they’ll question, and in battle that instant of hesitation is what gets people killed.”

“I know.” A kiss brushed against her hair. “But working yourself to the bone isn’t a much better idea.”

“There’s no need to sound like it’s obvious.”

His tone turned playful. “But then I wouldn’t get to see that adorable pout.”

“I don’t pout.”

“You do,” he assured her. “You get this cute little line between your eyebrows when something annoys you – there, that’s the one!” He grinned as he winced from an imaginary blow. “Please don’t hurt me.”

A smirk tugged at her mouth. “You still think it’s cute when you’re the one that put it there?” she asked.

“Well, uh…” He blushed and caught her waist, peeking at her through his lashes with a hopeful pout of his own. “I don’t like putting it there, but once it is… it’s a pretty good excuse for me to kiss it better, wouldn’t you say?”

Warmth stirred in her chest. “You need an excuse to kiss me?”

“Never.”

But instead of leaning in, his gaze slid from hers, falling to her shoulder as his brows knotted on some new problem that had yet to fully form in his mind.

“Do you remember that morning?” he asked, when she brushed her thumb over his cheek. “Before we left Deerswall? And… what we did the night before?”

“Of course I do.” Worried, she traced the line of his jaw and tried for a smile. “It was less than a week ago – and it was rather memorable.”

“You do want to do it again, don’t you? I mean – I don’t want to sound, well, lecherous, and I’m not trying to push, but… that’s not the reason why we haven’t done it again, is it? Because you don’t want to? Because I was…”

“Alistair…” Sighing, she brought his forehead down to hers. “If I didn’t want to do it again, it wouldn’t be because of you. You –” She had to find her voice again. “I never thought it would be like that – that if I had to, I’d enjoy it like that. But where would you suggest we go? The nights outside are freezing, and pitch black, and it’s not like we have much privacy anywhere else.”

“I know, but –”

“I’ve missed you every morning,” she told him. “I keep telling myself that when we get to Highever, we won’t have to be apart, we can wake up together and spend as much time in bed as we want. And you are the only person who has ever made me feel anything close to that. I want to be with you because I love you. Although, for the record,” she added, taking his face between her hands, “You are good at it.”

“I am?”

“Did you think I was lying when I said it before?” she asked.

“No, but…” He cleared his throat, as if changing his mind. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

His arm snaked up her back, trapping her against his chest as his confidence returned. “I love you.”

“Good.”

“And… I want to do it again. I want, uh…” Bright colour bloomed across his cheeks as his voice trailed away, the dart of his tongue over his lips betraying the nature of the words left unsaid. With anyone else, even such a vague suggestion would have crawled across her skin, but now it only left her breathless, wishing for time, and space, and privacy enough to coax him out of his bashfulness and explore exactly what was on his mind.

“When we get to Highever,” she murmured, pushing herself onto her toes, closer to him. A wave rocked the ship and overbalanced them, so he ended up with his back pressed against a timber, and her body flush against his chest. The barest sliver of air lingered between them, given power by the knowledge that anyone might walk in on them, until the voice of warning faded completely and all that remained was the pound of her heart and the strength of the fingers at her waist.

“Highever,” he echoed. His eyes squeezed shut as he nodded, eased a long breath between his teeth. “When we reach Highever. Right. But that doesn’t mean I’m not kissing you right now.”

--

The final night of the voyage was spent on the shore of the mainland, a few hours’ ride from the castle. They pulled in at dusk and stayed quiet, posted guards and built the cookfire under the shelter of the cliff to hide it from enemy eyes. For ease, their armour was still stowed, but Rosslyn made sure each of them was armed.

After leaving Alistair in the hold, a knot of tension had quickly replaced the flutter his presence stirred in her stomach, and with each passing hour, it crept through the rest of her body, until her muscles ached from the strain and she forgot to even be afraid of drowning. This was her sand. She planted herself in it, a silent declaration as she kept watch that stoked the hot roar in her chest. She had been forced to run at Harrowhill; Howe would not be given the same opportunity here.

The beach itself was one she knew well. Difficult to access from above except by a narrow track, the sand was good for castles, and the rocks held deep pools at low tide where she and Fergus had once hunted for crabs with her mother. As insistent as her father had been that his children knew the land, the Seawolf had taught them about the water, and how to survive it. They had spent many nights here as a family, building driftwood fires, learning the constellations or hearing stories. Her father had never picked up more than a few words of Clayne, but he had listened as raptly as the rest of them whenever her mother spoke from the sagas of her people, used to hold her in his lap and whisper that she was missing the good bits when she squirmed.

She dashed at the unexpected wetness on her cheeks. Nostalgia had no place so close to a battle, when the only thing on the mind should be strategy, the resolve to achieve victory. And yet…

Making sure everyone was at their posts in sight of each other, she whistled for Cuno and picked her way over the shingle to a scattering of large boulders half hidden by the cliff. The bare rocks channelled the water into swift currents at high tide and made perfect hiding spot for the abundant hoof-mussels that grew all along Ferelden’s northern coast. Broken bits of shell crunched under her feet, her boots slipped on the seaweed, and as she rounded the corner away from the camp, the pervasive odour of rotten salt stung her nose.

“Wait for me!”

She halted and turned at the bright sound of Leliana’s voice. The older woman’s hair shone like a beacon in the last rays of sunlight, waving with her movement as she stepped as delicately as a deer across the most treacherous rocks.

“Have I been missed?” she asked.

Leliana’s blue eyes glinted. “There is someone in the company who always misses you, I think – but no. I merely came to enjoy an evening stroll with a friend.”

“You’re welcome to join me,” Rosslyn answered. “I was just letting Cuno stretch his legs.”

“And to think he had such green gills when we set off this morning.”

She chuckled. “He still does, he’s just forgotten about it because he’s hoping he can find a dead seal to roll in.” At her friend’s small moue of disgust, she waved her hand. “He won’t find one at this time of year, but he can tell something is going on.”

“Everything will change after tomorrow,” Leliana allowed. “One way or the other. It’s not unusual for us to seek the paths not travelled when the one before us is uncertain. We wonder what we could have done differently, and what will come after.”

For an instant, Rosslyn stiffened, but while following her lead, Leliana was only under her command as a technicality, and already knew her foils too well for her to hide them now. She decided to take the prompt for what it was, and scuffed an empty limpet shell into a pool.

“I just want to get through this,” she admitted. “After can come… after. I know there’ll be politics and more battles to fight, but…”

“Ah, I see.”

They had reached a short stretch of sand wide enough to walk two abreast, giving Leliana room to slip out from behind Rosslyn and link their arms together.

“More pleasant topics, then?”

Rosslyn watched a pair of seagulls startled into flight by Cuno’s antics. “If you like.”

“Good.” A dimpled smile turned on her. “I have been most curious to ask, how is His Highness…?”

Heat surged into her cheeks. “What do you mean, ‘how is he’?”

“Oh, you know, Alistair and you… these cold nights… he must be quite delightful. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been glowing so much when we left Deerswall, I think.”

“I – I wasn’t glowing,” she managed.

“As you say.” Leliana tilted her head, unperturbed. “But he’s athletic, that’s always nice. He is also good at following instructions, isn’t he?”

Without any true response, Rosslyn merely gaped at her. There was such casual suggestion in the remark, as if private moments would naturally be unfolded and left open for the whole world to examine at its leisure. It didn’t help that the words sparked a tumble of memories from that night, and from the morning after when waking up to Alistair’s arms around her felt like every morning she ever wanted to have again.  

“Do people always talk about their partners in such candid terms?” she asked at last, once her thoughts managed to scramble themselves back into some semblance of order.

“Sometimes, when asked,” came the easy reply.

A retort formed on her tongue, but she bit it back. After all, she had tried her best to erase the image of her friend and her captain from her mind completely. Leliana, however, seemed to track the line of her thoughts.

“You know, if you want details of Ada and I…”  

“I do not.”

She sighed. “You Fereldans. In any case, I think he must be good. You came up from the hold this afternoon looking much happier than when you went in. And rather… windswept.”

If anything, Rosslyn’s face heated further, a spark of anger seating itself amidst her embarrassment. “You think we –? We were only down there for – that is…”

A growl interrupted her. Cuno trotted stiff-legged from the patch of seaweed he had been investigating to the edge of the sand in the direction they had come, head up and every hair bristling along his back.

“What does he hear?” Leliana whispered.

Rosslyn’s hand went to her sword, taking in the lines of alarm in every inch of her dog’s stance. She was already walking forward when she caught a burst of light that fired against the dusk, and then the noise of shouting and clashing steel.

“The camp!” she cried.  

She barely glanced at Leliana before she was running, fumbling over the rocks as best she could until she reached higher, drier ground and was able to stretch into a full run, Cuno keeping pace beside her. His teeth flashed in the gloom, and as they rounded the headland she drew her sword to match, taking in the battlefield at a glance. Their forces were outnumbered. Somebody had set a tree on fire. Shadowy figures blazing the Bear on their surcoats, and a man wielding a staff. Three had broken loose from the main fight and were trying to push Windcaller back out to sea, to cut off any route of escape.

With a roar she charged them, rage surging through every sinew as she raised her sword. The first went down before he could overcome his shock. The second had his sword half-drawn when Cuno launched bodily at him and tore out his throat. She turned to meet the third, and in the flash of sparks as their blades met, she saw recognition widen in his eyes, saw his jowls pull back in a jagged grin over worn, yellowed teeth. He lunged – but his armour weighed him down, his footwork hampered by the surf, and in the same movement she used to parry his blow, she reversed her blade and stabbed it deep into his armpit. He sank beneath the water with surprise still slack upon his face, and his blood washing red over the image of the snarling Bear.

“What do we do?” Leliana’s bow was drawn. One corpse already lay with an arrow in its neck, and another had been wounded in the thigh.

“Get in the bows,” Rosslyn ordered. “Cover me – we’re getting out of here.”  

She whistled for Cuno and together they leapt up the beach. Individual skirmishes had broken out as her people bunched together to defend themselves, but already the Amaranthine soldiers’ armour and greater numbers were taking a toll. But they weren’t expecting her. She forged a path to Riley first, being beaten back inch by inch as he and two others defended Amell, who had her staff trained on the enemy mage. As the first of her defenders collapsed, screaming, she spoke a word in a harsh tongue and the air in front of her shimmered, seared in a direct arc towards her opponent who was thrown backwards off his feet as the boom of the spell echoed like a thunderclap.

Rosslyn staggered under the shockwave but drove forward nonetheless, teeth bared, and sliced deep into the ranks of the enemy disoriented by the blast, already screaming at Riley and his men to move.

“We can fight –” he started, but she rounded on him.

“We can’t hold them! Look at the enchanter – she can barely stand. No matter what happens, we have to make it to the castle with enough numbers to make it worthwhile. Now follow your orders and get to the ship!”

She had no thoughts to spare after that. She did what she could, darting from one fray to the next to bite deep with Talon and stall the enemy long enough to turn the advantage, but even with Leliana’s arrows thinning the pursuit it wasn’t enough to stop them being ground down. And she couldn’t find Alistair. Every knot of soldiers she pushed through bore no sign of him, no voice or face, even among the dead at her feet. Panic rose. There was nobody left to save, the enemy was retreating, and no matter how her heart screamed at her, she couldn’t justify keeping the rest of them in danger for the sake of one man.

There. Through a spray of blood, she spotted him. She was running, shouting. Cuno streaked ahead of her, through the sudden sea of people slowing her down. Her blade whirled, the only sound was the pulse in her ears, but he heard her, and turned, and in his distraction one of Howe’s soldiers caught him in the back of the head with the edge of a shield and he slumped to the ground.

“NO!”

They surrounded her. Alistair’s sword sprang into her left hand as she dodged and came up to put herself between him and them, and didn’t hesitate. They were better armoured than cabbages, sturdier than the slim wooden poles she used for training, but they were nothing more than an Orchard of targets, too slow for the surge in her blood. They couldn’t get near her. If they did, they went down. She felt the impacts dully, sliced tendons and spurting necks and grating bone as her two blades cut through them, all tiredness forgotten, all thought dashed from her mind by terror-driven instinct.  

And then an unseen force slammed into her, knocking her to the ground with the tingle of magic in her mouth. Her lungs wouldn’t work. A sword came down above her. She rolled away just far enough to feel the sting of sand thrown up where the blade impacted the earth and swiped blind with her arm, scrambling to get her feet back underneath her despite the shock creeping into her field of vision. No, not shock, a Sleep. She staggered as it took a firmer hold, robbed her of control of her own limbs, but there were still more to fight. She would fight.

“We’ve got her!” someone called. “Make sure the others don’t escape. His Lordship will be well pleased with –”

The rest of the words faded, the world went dark, the last thing in her awareness was the second impact of her body as it hit the ground.