#storm 'rook' hawke

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 2 @andersweek2025 - Tender Tuesday

Post DA2 Anders with Autumn Hawke.

A short bit of fluff from my Anders/Hawke family, set just after Hawke returns from Skyfold and the Adamant.

Autumn paused as the barn came into view, her heart thudding in her chest. This was where she had left Anders and Storm six weeks ago, buying their safety for a time with a heavy pouch of coin and a quiet plea for the farmer’s discretion. She could only hope they were still here. It wasn’t uncommon for their little family to move suddenly—to hide, to run.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed onward. Varric had promised to help them find somewhere safe. Somewhere permanent. The thought was a fragile hope she clung to as tightly as the secret she carried now.

"Heartbeats. Not just one, but two. Small, but strong. Growing. They don’t know yet, but they feel you. Safe, warm, waiting."

Cole’s cryptic words echoed in her mind, a strange comfort and a weight all at once.

"One listens, quiet, careful, like steps on wet stone. The other burns bright, golden, like a spark that won’t go out. They are not afraid. They know you will keep them safe."

Her hand brushed instinctively over her stomach, where the faintest curve had begun to show.

As she stepped into the barn, a small figure collided with her side. “Mummy!”

Storm’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face lighting up with a smile that banished weeks of worry in an instant.

“Hey,” she murmured, kneeling to hug him close. “Did you miss me?”

“Did you have a good adventure?” he asked, his blue-green eyes wide with excitement. “Daddy said you’d bring back stories.”

Autumn smiled softly, brushing his unruly red hair from his face. “I did,” she promised, kissing his forehead. “But I need to talk to your father first. Do you know where he is?”

Storm nodded, pointing toward the field. “He’s fixing the fence for the farmer man.”

She ruffled his hair gently. “Stay close, alright? I’ll be back soon.”

With a nod, Storm bounded off toward a pile of hay bales. Autumn stood, adjusting her cloak and heading toward the field.

Anders stood with his back to her, his golden hair tied messily at the nape of his neck as he worked on the fence. The rhythmic clang of hammer against wood filled the air, but it faltered when she called his name.

“Anders.”

He froze mid-swing, the hammer slipping from his grasp as he turned. When their eyes met, relief washed over his face, followed by something deeper. He crossed the distance between them quickly, pulling her into his arms as if afraid she might vanish.

“You’re back,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m back,” she murmured, holding him close as she could already feel his magic ghosting over her skin, looking, searching for injuries.

"I have news," she said quietly.

Anders pulled back slightly, his hands lingering on her arms as his amber eyes scanned her face. “News?”

Autumn hesitated for a heartbeat, rehearsed words tangling in her throat. Instead of speaking, she took his hand and guided it to her stomach. The faint curve was barely noticeable, but when his palm rested there, the warmth of his magic seemed to settle, searching, sensing.

His breath hitched. His eyes darted between her face and where his hand rested. “You’re…?”

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her voice steady but soft. She swallowed and added, “It’s twins.”

Anders froze, his entire body going still as if the weight of her words had rooted him to the earth. “Twins?” he repeated.

Autumn nodded, watching the storm of emotions play across his face—shock, fear, awe, and something else, something fragile and hopeful. His hand trembled against her stomach, his magic flickering faintly as if responding to his turmoil. "Varric promised to help. To find us somewhere safe. No more running. We can be a real family, Anders."

“I…” His voice cracked, and he shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can do this again, Autumn. Storm… I was so scared I’d ruin him, and now—”

Her hands came up to cup his face, “You won’t,” she said firmly, her blue eyes meeting his, “You didn’t ruin Storm. Look at him, Anders. He’s happy. He’s strong. He adores you.” She smiled softly, brushing a stray lock of golden hair from his forehead. “And these two—they’ll adore you too. Just like I do.”

[teine-mallaichte]

Well Varric would still be there... As Storm is Hawke and Anders kid, he has known Varric basically his entire life, he even called him 'uncle varric'. So... Yeah. I even have 'letters home' drafted at different points of the game where he tells his parents what's going on and mentions Varric 😅

In comparison to a lot of the other Rooks I've just read people's answers for, Storms backstory is relatively tame. He's not lost many people, not been forced to kill people or do much that's morally grey. However, that doesn't mean he's not deeply affected by the stuff that has happened.

He had to leave home at age 17 after a run in with a Hurlock caused him to be infected by blight. Obviously his parents couldn't let him die, so Anders took him to his Aunt Bethany and he underwent the joining. Afterwards when Anders told him he needed to stay with the Wardens for a while he called Anders a hypocrite and they've not spoken much since - despite anders attempts. Storm will still add a line or so for his father in letters, but the letters are mainly addressed to his mother and siblings now, and the few times he's seen Anders since Storm's not exactly been all that nice to him. He regrets that. He knowns that his father was only trying to keep him alive, and he knows he has likely been unreasonable - not that this makes it easier to stop or let go of the anger/frustration. (For context Storm is 20 now.)

The actual 'blight incident' when he was 17 also still haunts him. Not only has it resulted in him still being scared of hurlocks, but he feels that he put his two siblings (who were only 12 at the time) in danger. He'll hear them yelling and screaming, especially the way they yelled when he got overpowered by the hurlock. He'll probably relive the fight, relive entering the cave, relive the moment which hits brother Rowan was grabbed (he was fine but that fear of what could have happened still lingers).

I'm still working on his backstory for this next bit, but the other person who will feature heavily in his regret prison is a fellow Grey Warden and his first ever LI. I've not given her a name or really developed her much yet, but he met her after he'd been a Grey Warden about a year. His Aunt Bethany hated the relationship, and hated the woman. She was reckless, morally iffy, and talked Storm into several things. Anyway the relationship only lasted about 7 or 8 months as she died - being a Warden is dangerous. Storm isn't sure if he regrets the relationship, regrets what happened to her, or regrets the way he treated Bethany during the relationship, but whatever it is she is there.

Other than that : basically every decision he's made since joining Varric on this mission. Storm is a deeply insecure person, even if he acts otherwise. He can't really remember his early life, but he was born only 5 months after the chantry explosion. His parents were fugitives, they moved a lot, and that lack of stability and constant anxiety has affected his development. On top of that he's already felt that he's not good enough compared to his parents, his parents friends and then his siblings. He second guesses EVERYTHING, and so every decision he's made since he accidentally nepotismed his way into being way over his head haunts him. Because what if it was the wrong choice? Maybe if he'd done X differently then less people would have died. Maybe if he'd paid attention as a kid and actually learnt to heal like his father and sister he could help people more. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe...

Yeah, he's not having a good time... I can see him being stuck in there longer than 2 weeks and being a mess when he finally gets out.

Oh no it’s Monday, the worst day =(

Oh YAY! It’s the Rook Intro Hour! 🎉💕🍾🎁

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

Today’s Questions: If the regret prison that Solas traps Rook in at the end of the game hadn’t contained Varric + some of Rook’s companions, what would your Rook have seen there? Would they have been able to overcome their regrets? What would the process have looked like for them— how would they have worked through their emotions without anything to guide them?

Have fun, and thanks for sharing !

[happypanda101]

Cute feral babies cause I told @stormseclipse that I would draw baby Rook and my version of baby Cyclonis together. Excuse the blood.

TW! For dead bunny and some gore(?) under the cut.

[stormseclipse]

My entry for Wary Taru’s Storm Hawkstober day 1!

Small excerpt from my rewrite of the episode. Rook discovers an interesting secret about Aerrow and comes up with a deal to buy her silence. :3

[seratlantisite]

Nice try Bioware, but I know the state of Southern Thedas better than you do.

First off, it matters if the Hero of Ferelden is alive or not. When the First Warden recalled all wardens, our hero knew that was a bad call and refused, finally splitting off from Weisshaupt after years of mismanagement and taking scores of wardens with them. Their presence and leadership makes all the difference, rallying southern Thedas once more against the blight. If you have only an Orlesian Warden Commander in Amaranthine they’re less inspiring, but as long as you’ve done Awakening they are a boon nonetheless. There is someone to lead the fight against the darkspawn while other focus on the Venatori.

If you 100% completed Awakenings and also Soldier’s Peak, the Ferelden wardens have never been so prepared. They’re organized, they’re outfitted and they’ve been ready for this for years. Also, if you allied with the Architect then you have scores of strange research to give you an edge.

If Merrill completed her Eluvian then she moves south once again and joins the effort. She’s managed to cleanse the blight before and she’s ready to try it again. And her knowledge of the crossroads gives the south an edge on their movement and supply lines. If Hawke’s sibling is a Warden they accompanied her.

If the Inquisitor let Briala have power in any way, the Dales become the leaders in the war against the Venatori, forming a formidable alliance with Ferelden, Orzammar and the Marches, the likes of which have never been seen. And if you completed Jaws of Hakkon then their alliances with the Avvar and Chasind are stronger than ever.

Of course, if the Inquisitor kept the Wardens around after Here Lies the Abyss then their numbers are bolstered. It may cost Wiesshaupt later, but that’s Rooks problem. And if you completed the Descent, then the Inquisitor and Warden had a much better idea of what was coming and spent ten years getting ready.

They will not be broken.

They will weather this storm.

[ninapedia]

please play this fun little game with me, I'm gonna open it to all my Dragon Age OCs. Links to tags/character names under the cut but I'll put them in the tags too

I have a lot of characters I've only written about but here are the ones I've actually posted anything about on here (except for my rook, he has things queued)

Mainline Canon

Viera Surana

Ramona Hawke

Raventish'an Lavellan

Wren "Rook" De Riva (nothing posted about him yet uou)

Additional Game Characters

Aldwir

Warden Andras

Warden Tabris

Warden Brosca

Marquis of Serault

Bhelen's Mercenary

Champion of Kaiten

Enchanter Storm

Warden Thorne

Enchanter Amell

Other Dragon Age OCs

My other Lavellans

DNDragon Age OCs (some of my friend's OCs are in that Tag

AU Warden

Warden Hallevune Mahariel

DA:I OC codex prompts

(based off of excellent ideas in THIS post)

Have fun!

something written about your OC by the cook

something written about your OC by a shop keeper

writing found in your OC’s trash can

something written on a statue dedicated to your OC

a note/letter found in your OC’s pocket

something written by your OC in response to an honor they’re being awarded

something written by a diplomat who has stayed at Skyhold

something written about one of your OC’s regrets

something written about one of your OC’s proudest accomplishments

something written by one of the advisors about your OC

slander written about your OC

propaganda written in support of your OC

something written about your OC in the two years between defeating Corypheus and the beginning of Trespasser

something written about your OC, post-Trespasser

something written to your OC by a younger member of their family 

something written to your OC by an older member of their family

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (rook's rest)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen (+Aemond Targaryen?)

- Note: This chapter is more serious than the rest and the humor is toned down. Also, the part after this will be the last one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: addendum

- Next part: the final choice

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @purple-1995 @thisbiann @whiteoakoak @deemee33

The sky above Rook’s Rest was dark, choked with clouds that promised a storm—though none could compare to the storm that Aemond Targaryen intended to bring. Below, the fortress stood like a sentinel against the gathering shadows, its high walls defiant, its towers tall. But even the proudest fortress could not stand against what was coming. Not when he had Vhagar.

Aemond sat upon his great dragon, high above the world, the cold air biting against his face. Vhagar’s wings beat with the steady rhythm of a creature born of fire and shadow, the winds of her passing causing the trees below to sway as if in worship. And yet, despite the power he commanded, his thoughts were not on the battle ahead but on something—or rather, someone—else entirely.

Y/N.

The image of you lingered in his mind like a specter, haunting him at every turn. You, Aegon’s wife. You, the woman who seemed to occupy every corner of his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to push you aside. The way you looked at him during the celebrations, the subtle hints of something unspoken between you, it had all twisted itself into a knot of frustration and desire that Aemond could no longer untangle.

And then there was Aegon, the fool, parading around as if he were the true ruler of the realm, with you always at his side. Aegon, who did not deserve you. Aegon, who had spent his life squandering every gift handed to him.

Aemond’s jaw clenched at the thought, the anger rising unbidden in his chest. He hadn’t wanted this battle—not in this way—but as the events unfolded, a dark decision had taken root. One that, for all his usual restraint, he was now prepared to carry out.

Below him, the armies of Rhaenyra’s supporters were gathered at Rook’s Rest, waiting for the onslaught to begin. But that wasn’t what concerned him now. No, there was a different dragon circling below—Sunfyre. And upon that golden beast sat Aegon.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he watched his brother in the distance, circling Rook’s Rest like a hawk waiting to dive for the kill. Aegon, oblivious as ever, prepared to claim the glory of this battle. The fool didn’t even realize what was coming.

Aemond pulled Vhagar into a dive, her massive wings cutting through the air with a thunderous roar. The wind howled in his ears as they descended, his heart pounding, the world below coming into sharp focus. He could see Sunfyre now, the golden dragon’s scales gleaming in the dim light, Aegon’s form barely visible on his back. Aegon, so intent on the battle ahead, had not noticed Aemond’s approach.

It should have been me, Aemond thought, the bitterness curling in his chest like smoke. It should have been him by your side, not Aegon. And now, for once, Aemond would make sure it was.

With a grim resolve, Aemond urged Vhagar closer. The great dragon let out a deep, rumbling growl, sensing her rider’s intentions. The clouds above darkened further, and then, without warning, Aemond made his move.

“Dracarys.”

The word left his lips like a death sentence, and in the next instant, the world erupted in fire. Vhagar’s breath shot forward in a torrent of flame, blazing a path through the sky. The firestorm engulfed Sunfyre before Aegon even had time to react. The golden dragon screeched in agony, its wings beating wildly as it tried to escape the inferno that now consumed it.

Aegon’s scream followed soon after, a high-pitched wail that echoed through the skies as the flames licked at his armor, his cloak catching fire as Sunfyre spiraled downward, desperately trying to stay aloft.

Aemond watched, his heart pounding in his chest, but his face remained impassive. There was no triumph in this, no joy. Only a cold, calculated decision that had been brewing for far too long. Aegon, in his arrogance, had finally paid the price. And though Aemond had never intended to become a kinslayer again, the moment felt inevitable. Aegon had stood in his way for too long.

For her, he thought, his eye flicking upward for a moment, as if you were watching from some unseen perch. It was a foolish sentiment, but Aemond did not care. He had done what he had to.

The screams of Sunfyre and Aegon faded as the dragon plummeted toward the ground, fire still trailing in its wake. Aemond spared them no further thought. The deed was done.

But the battle was not over.

From the east, the unmistakable roar of another dragon filled the air, and Aemond’s eye snapped toward the sound. There, soaring through the clouds like a fury of vengeance, came Meleys, the Red Queen, her scarlet scales gleaming in the dim light. And on her back was Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was.

Aemond’s lips curled into a tight smile. He had known this moment was coming. Rhaenys had been a threat for far too long, and now, with Aegon burning below, Aemond would end this rebellion once and for all.

“Vhagar,” Aemond growled, tightening his grip on the reins. “Let’s finish this.”

Vhagar roared in response, her massive wings beating the air as she surged forward to meet Meleys. The two dragons collided in a clash of flame and fury, their roars shaking the very heavens. Fire spewed from both sides, filling the sky with an inferno that turned night to day.

Rhaenys and Meleys fought with a ferocity that Aemond had rarely seen, the Red Queen snapping and clawing at Vhagar with wild abandon. But Vhagar was larger, older, and far more experienced in the ways of war. Aemond’s bond with her was strong, and together, they fought like a single, deadly force.

Rhaenys may have been called the Queen Who Never Was, but today, she would not be a queen. She would be a memory.

With a final, decisive strike, Vhagar clamped her massive jaws around Meleys’ neck, crushing bone and flesh with a sickening crunch. The Red Queen let out a final, anguished roar before her wings gave out, and she tumbled toward the earth, Rhaenys still on her back.

Aemond watched, his heart steady, as Meleys and Rhaenys fell from the sky, their bodies vanishing into the clouds below. The battle was over.

Victory was his.

And yet, as he hovered above the battlefield, watching the smoke rise from the charred remains of Sunfyre and the smoldering ruin of Rhaenys’ dragon, Aemond felt no satisfaction.

He had done what needed to be done. He had claimed the victory. But as he turned Vhagar toward the distant horizon, his thoughts returned once more to you, as they always did. The victory felt hollow, like an empty crown resting too heavily on his head.

For all the power and glory he had won today, it wasn’t enough.

You weren’t his.

And that, more than anything, gnawed at him like a wound that would never heal.

The Red Keep was quieter than usual as Aemond made his way toward Aegon’s chambers. The air was filled with the heavy silence that always seemed to settle after a tragedy, the kind that lingered long after the fires had been extinguished. And though Aegon was alive, a part of him—the Aegon that Aemond had known—seemed to have been consumed in those flames at Rook’s Rest.

Aemond paused outside the door to Aegon’s chambers, taking a breath. He had avoided this moment long enough. A month had passed since that fateful battle, and though the rest of the realm had resumed its usual rhythm, this corner of the Red Keep remained in shadow.

He pushed open the door to find Aegon lying in his bed, the once-boisterous king now reduced to a broken, burned shell of the man he used to be. Bandages covered much of his body, and his usually proud silver hair had been singed unevenly. His skin was marred with scars, red and angry from the burns that had nearly claimed his life. Aegon’s eyes, once filled with mischief and arrogance, now stared vacantly at the ceiling.

The scent of burnt flesh still faintly clung to the air, mixed with the overwhelming odor of healing balms and herbs. Maesters and healers had done their best, but Aegon was far from the golden prince he had once been.

Aemond closed the door behind him, stepping into the room. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but the sight of Aegon like this struck a chord he hadn’t anticipated. For all his faults, Aegon had been… well, Aegon—larger than life, impossible to ignore. And now, here he lay, barely more than a shadow.

Aegon’s head turned slowly toward Aemond, his once-bright eyes dull and heavy-lidded. His voice, when it came, was weak and rasping, as though every word cost him what little strength he had left.

“Aemond…” He croaked, a dry cough following the sound. “Where… where have you been?”

Aemond stepped closer, standing at the foot of the bed. He regarded his brother carefully, unsure how to navigate this conversation. Not knowing how much Aegon remembers. “I’ve been tending to the realm,” he said, his voice calm, though there was a flicker of something darker behind his eye. “The battle left much to be dealt with.”

Aegon’s lips twitched, a ghost of his old grin. “Ah, yes… the realm… always the realm.” He paused, blinking sluggishly. “But… where is Y/N? My wife… Where is she?”

Aemond felt the familiar knot of tension tighten in his chest at the mention of your name. He had known this question was coming. Of course Aegon would ask for you, even now, when everything else had fallen apart. Even after everything Aemond had done.

He tried to keep his face neutral, though there was an undeniable edge to his tone as he answered. “She’s… been keeping herself busy. Distracted.” He met Aegon’s gaze, careful not to betray too much. “You’ve been asleep for a long time, brother. Life doesn’t stop.”

Aegon’s brow furrowed, his gaze searching Aemond’s face with a flicker of concern—though it was hard to tell how much was due to his weakened state. “She hasn’t come to see me?”

Aemond hesitated for a beat, his jaw tightening slightly. “No,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Not yet.”

Aegon’s lips parted, his expression a mixture of confusion and hurt. He shifted in the bed, wincing as the movement sent a wave of pain through his burned skin. “She… hasn’t come?” His voice cracked slightly, a tone Aemond had never heard from him before. “Why… why wouldn’t she come?”

Aemond felt the weight of the question settle between them like a stone. He glanced at the floor for a moment, unsure of how to answer in a way that wouldn’t betray his own guilt—or worse, his own conflicted feelings. How could he explain that he had been the one to set these events in motion, that his actions had ultimately separated you from Aegon in the most irrevocable way? How could he tell his brother that the woman Aegon had cherished was slipping further from his grasp with every passing day?

So instead, Aemond settled on the only answer he could offer without unraveling everything. “She’s… grieving, Aegon. It’s been difficult for her. She’s unsure of how to… face this.”

Aegon let out a weak, humorless chuckle that quickly turned into a cough. “Grieving… for me?” He shook his head slightly, the motion slow and painful. “She… always said I’d be fine… no matter what foolishness I got myself into.” There was a distant look in his eyes, as if he was recalling your teasing words from before the battle, when everything had seemed so much simpler.

“She’s probably just waiting,” Aegon muttered, his voice trailing off. “She’ll come. She’ll… come around.”

Aemond stood in silence for a moment, watching as Aegon’s eyes flickered, his exhaustion taking hold once more. His brother was broken, physically and perhaps even mentally. But the one thing that had not broken was his faith in you—a faith that Aemond couldn’t help but feel was misplaced. Because even now, as Aegon lay burned and shattered, you were slipping further and further into Aemond’s own thoughts. Into his possession.

“I’m sure she will,” Aemond said softly, though the words felt like ash on his tongue. “In time.”

Aegon, too weary to argue, simply nodded weakly, his eyes drifting shut once more. The room was heavy with the weight of what had been left unsaid, the silence filled with unspoken truths.

Aemond turned to leave, his heart a storm of conflicting emotions. But as he reached the door, Aegon’s voice—hoarse and barely a whisper—called out one final time.

“Aemond… take care of her, won’t you?”

Aemond paused, his hand resting on the doorframe, his expression hardening for just a moment before he answered.

“I always do.”

The corridors of the Red Keep felt colder than usual as you walked through them. You had spent the last month avoiding this very moment, but now it was time—time to see Aegon. The guilt had gnawed at you, the weight of his absence hanging over you like a shadow. Aegon was alive, but you hadn’t visited him once since he had returned, broken and burned, from Rook’s Rest.

The court whispered about it, of course. About how the queen had yet to sit at her king’s bedside, how the once-lively Aegon had been abandoned in his darkest hour. You told yourself it was because you didn’t want to face the truth of what had happened—that seeing him like that would make everything real. But deep down, you knew there was more to it.

Aemond.

His presence had loomed over you since the battle. He had been your shadow, watching, waiting, his gaze lingering on you with something between hunger and possessiveness. You had felt the shift in him, the way his usual cold composure had cracked, revealing the depth of his feelings. And you knew, without him saying it, that he was the reason Aegon had been burned.

You had avoided confronting him for weeks, but as you made your way to Aegon’s chambers now, you knew there was no avoiding it any longer.

And there he was, waiting for you at the end of the hall, his tall figure standing in the shadows like a sentinel. His single eye locked onto yours the moment you approached, his jaw set in that familiar line of determination.

“Where are you going?” Aemond’s voice was low, but it carried the weight of a command. He stepped into your path, blocking the door to Aegon’s chambers, his expression unreadable, though there was a dangerous glint in his eye.

You stopped, your heart pounding, though you kept your face calm. “I’m going to see Aegon,” you said simply.

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “After all this time? Now you decide to visit him?” His tone was laced with something darker, something possessive. “You’ve been avoiding him for weeks, and now you think you can waltz in there as though nothing has changed?”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Aemond, I know what you’re trying to do. But Aegon is my husband. He’s my responsibility.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his eye darkening. “Your responsibility? I did this for you,” he said, his voice low and intense. He stepped closer, his presence looming over you like a storm. “Everything I’ve done—burning Aegon, taking control of the realm—I did it for you. To free you from him. Don’t you see that?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of something far more complicated—something that had been simmering between you and Aemond for far too long. His intensity, his obsession, had drawn you in more than you wanted to admit. But this… this was too much.

“Aemond,” you said, your voice softer now, though your resolve was firm. “You may believe you did this for me, but I never asked for any of it. I didn’t want Aegon to get hurt. I didn’t want this.” You gestured between the two of you, the unspoken tension hanging heavily in the air.

Aemond’s eye flickered with something—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I’ve given you everything. I’ve made sure Aegon could no longer stand in your way, and yet, you’re still running to him?”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not running to him. I’m fulfilling my duty as his wife.” Your voice softened, but there was a firm edge to it. “I care about you, Aemond. But I won’t let you destroy him for your own reasons.”

For a moment, Aemond stood there, staring at you, his jaw clenched tightly. You could see the conflict warring inside him, the tension between what he wanted and what he knew he couldn’t have. His fingers flexed at his side as though he were restraining himself from reaching for you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped aside, his expression cold once more. “Go then,” he said, his voice flat. “But remember this—Aegon is no longer the man you once knew. He is broken. And you cannot save him.”

You swallowed hard, his words cutting deep, but you nodded and walked past him, your heart heavy. You could feel his gaze burning into your back as you opened the door to Aegon’s chambers, but you didn’t look back.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a single candle. Aegon lay in the bed, barely moving, his burned skin still wrapped in bandages. The once-proud king looked small, fragile, a shadow of the man you had married. His eyes, dull and distant, flicked toward you as you entered.

“Y/N…” His voice was weak, barely more than a rasp, but there was something in it—relief, maybe. “You came…”

You moved toward him slowly, your heart aching at the sight of him. “Of course I did,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Aegon’s lips twitched into a faint, tired smile. “I thought… you’d given up on me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, taking his hand in yours. “I could never give up on you, Aegon.”

He closed his eyes, his hand weakly gripping yours, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you sat in silence—together.

But even as you sat by his side, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Aemond’s words lingering in your mind, like a shadow that refused to leave.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

family day ask, if that's alright! could i request an interaction with rook and eric venue, vil's father? the way i think of it, this can go either really funnily or oddly. or both.

Consider this a prequel interaction to this one; I doubt that Mr. Venue can get past the Pomefiore gates on his own, so let's assume he meets a certain huntsman that helps him out 🎵

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

From his vantage spot amid the tree leaves, Rook could see all. He was like a hawk, able to glean the animals weaving through the foods, the rooftops, the students and their families coming to and fro. This view, he adored.

But equally as stunning as these sights were the pockets of darkness in them. They made his blood soar, singing, all the same. Carcesses returning life to the soil, damage from the natural elements, quarrels…

The sketchy man lurking at the shining gates to Pomefiore.

“Oh la la, what have we here?”

Curiosity piqued, Rook focused his gaze on the man. He was dressed in a full tracksuit, a mask concealing the shape of his mouth—though with a neat beard on his chin, judging by the slight protrustion—and a large pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. Given the lenses and the natural lighting, Rook would venture his iris color was a deep violet. A baseball cap hid most of his hair—though tufts of gold stuck out—and shadowed his face. It was an older man, Rook could tell, from the glimpses of skin he could catch, creasing and folding in a predictable manner.

The man glanced around, checking for onlookers (Rook chuckled to himself, knowing that he had no clue the huntsman was watching), then made his move. Reaching out with gloved hands, he tested the iron bars keeping him from entering the utopia of beauty protected by them. Of course, the gates held together, tight as coupled ravens.

Before the man could attempt to fiddle with the lock, he jolted at the sound of two approaching Pomefiore students. (Rook heard them clearly; they were talking about a recent Magic History exam and how their parents were currently speaking with Trein.) He hurriedly dove into a nearby hedge. The duo came up to the gate, which magically swung open for them.

“Excuse me, gentlemen!”

The mob students startled at the masked man popping out from a bush. “What the…?!”

“May I join you?” he asked (as if it was the most normal thing in the entire world for a masked man to appear from the greenery to solicit high school students). “My son is a student in your dorm, you see—but I haven’t been having any luck getting in. I’ve been trying for some time now, but the gates always shut again when I try to rush inside.”

“Erm… Are you acquainted with this scruffy guy?” one mob asked the other.

“Not at all, but anyone with sense would know that he’s entirely suspicious,” the other replied. “What say you and I cast him out?”

“Yes, let’s do that. We wouldn’t want riffraff tainting the Beautiful Queen’s domain!”

“Wh-What?!” The man automatically thrusted both arms up. “Hold on a second!!!”

Rook grinned like a cat that had gotten his fill of cream. Ohohoh, it looks as though the situation is quickly heating up. It’s about time for me to throw my hat into the fray.

He descended without a sound, the leaves barely shaking. Rook landed softly on his feet and crept toward the front gates, where ugly shouts rose.

“Bonjour!” he called, strutting up to his students. Feigning ignorance. “What seems to be the issue here?”

“Hunt-senpai!” A mob thrust an accusatory finger at the stranger. “This strange individual is trying to storm Pomefiore!”

“We were just about to apprehend him, Rook-sama.”

“Wait, I can explain!!” The man protested. His every word trembled, overflowing with sincerity. “My son…! My son is in there, and I need to see him!”

Ah, I see. This man’s secret identity is…

The huntsman’s eyes shone with clear understanding.

“My dear students, you needn’t worry—please, leave him to me,” Rook insisted, shooing them away with his hands.

“If Hunt-senpai says so…” The mob students exchanged a look before scurrying inside. The gates slammed shut after them.

“Oh no, not again!!” the man groaned. “My luck’s been rotten this whole day…”

Rook laughed, sweeping off his hat and dipping into a bow before the stranger. “As it so happens, monsieur, I am Pomefiore’s vice dorm leader. I would be more than happy to grant you an audience with our queen… Mr. Eric Venue, correct?”

The man stiffened for but a split second. He easily recovered, sprinkling controlled panic into his voice. “Eric Venue? The famous movie star? I’m flattered, but I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Am I? I would never mistake the desperate cries of a loving father. Those looks, that voice, a disguise for this busy occasion, a father’s passion… They tell a story all of their own.” There was a pause. “Ah, but I’m afraid you won’t get very far by making efforts to conceal yourself. I understand why—a celebrity cannot call too much attention to oneself—but it can be difficult to persuade, even with your charisma, when so much of the face is hidden. Humans have a natural instinct to distrust that which they cannot see.”

“That’s…”

Rook leaned in, his lips parting to form a whisper. “Ne vous inquiétez pas. I assure you, your secret is safe with me and that the journey will be quick and discreet. I know of a secret passageway to Vil’s chambers. About this time of day… yes, I believe he would be easy to reach.”

Eric’s brows shot up, genuine surprise registering on his face. “… Haha, you have an eye for detail, young man.”

“Fufufu, so I am told.” Rook extended a hand to him. “How about it? Will you accept my offer?”

“Well…” Eric lowered his sunglasses a smidge, flashing a glimpse of his deep-set amethyst eyes. “You’re an odd fellow, but I can tell you mean no harm and speak earnestly. And you’re my Vil’s vice dorm leader, his trusted confidant. I was worried that my presence might stir up a crowd, but I think it’s safe to put my faith in you.”

Rook dropped to a kneel, a loyal knight before a king. When he rose again, he lifted both arms and bent in deference.

“Suivez-moi.”

[fenharelsfang]

The Wolf's Heart (1/5)

The world was awash in a sea of blood, a crimson tide of red lyrium, the Blight, and the shadow of the forced solar eclipse. The smell of smoke and rotting flesh choked the air. People screamed in the city below the Archon’s palace. Darkspawn and other unholy creatures of the Blight stalked the streets, slaughtering anything in their path. Malevolent spirits flocked to the weakening Veil like moths to a flame, possessing any mage desperate enough to invite them in. The fear of death was a very strong motivator. In the sky, a monstrous Archdemon and a six-eyed wolf the size of a dragon fought a battle that shook the very heavens. Meanwhile, a swarm of Antaam soldiers and Venatori agents stormed the city and marched against the makeshift army of Grey Wardens, Veil Jumpers, Lords of Fortune, Antivan Crows, Mourn Watchers, Shadow Dragons, and Inquisition agents, all led by Rook, the man who inadvertently started these unfortunate chain of events.

All was not lost, though. They had successfully defeated and killed Ghilan’nain and now only Elgar’nan stood in the way. Well, Elgar’nan and Solas.

“Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me,” said Rook. He and the rest of the faction leaders were gathered around a grand oak table discussing their next steps. Neve Gallus, recently freed from Elgar’nan’s clutches, revealed to them that once the tyrannical god was defeated, the last of the Veil’s bindings would unravel and it would come crashing down. “Tearing down the Veil has been his goal since the very beginning. He already betrayed me once. It’s his whole schtick.”

“I’m still blown away by the fact that archdemons are just dragons bound to a bunch of magical elves and there were two of them flying around out here,” Warden-Commander Cousland remarked with a whistle. The effects of being a Grey Warden for the past twenty years had taken its toll on her. Her once rich auburn hair had dulled to light grey and dark purple bags sagged under her eyes. She was close to her Calling. The song of the Blight was getting difficult to block out. All those years of searching for a way to free Grey Wardens from their burden amounted to nothing. This last ditch effort to seal the Blight behind the Veil was her only salvation. She prayed it would be enough to quell the corruption in her blood. Once done, perhaps she could finally go home to her beloved King for good and enjoy their twilight years in peace. “And I thought my Blight was bad.”

“... I think I preferred Corypheus,” Hawke confessed, face ashen. She was still haunted by the horror the red lyrium she unearthed had unleashed. Now Varric was dead and Solas used blood magic to trick Rook into thinking he wasn’t. That was sick and twisted. The tale of the Evanuris needed to end and she’d be there to write that final chapter. It would end with their death.

“If anyone can stop Elgar’nan and Solas, it is the individuals gathered here,” Morrigan proclaimed with an air of confidence. She had met each of these heroes, these paragons of light and hope, and helped steer the tides of fate so that they would succeed.

“We know how to beat Elgar’nan,” Rook said. “Solas will take care of his archdemon and, when he does, we’ll throw everything we have at him. It’s what happens after that concerns me.” He looked to Neve, her blood-red eyes sending a shiver down his spine. Ugly black veins pulsed at her temples and black blood dribbled down her chin. She was inexplicably connected to the Blight now, able to feel it and, to some extent, control it. “We need a plan to stop the Veil from falling.”

“The Veil is tied to the ancient elven gods,” Morrigan said. “‘Twill not be a simple matter to find a suitable tether once they are gone.”

“Then let’s tie it to Solas,” Rook suggested. “He’s an elven god and the only one that will be left.”

Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan, standing further down the table next to Morrigan and Dorian, clenched her jaw at the suggestion. Rook didn’t speak highly of the Dread Wolf. It was understandable, really. He had been used and betrayed. Varric was gone, truly gone, and now Harding was lost as well. She could see vengeance coiling around his heart like a viper. That same righteous anger radiated off of Hawke as well. It was horrible, but she … she wanted to defend him! This wasn’t the Solas she knew, the one she fell in love with. They hadn’t seen the softer shades of him: his kindness towards those who were hurting or the way he lit up like a delighted child when speaking about the Fade. He wasn’t so different from them. He had his virtues and vices, his quirks. They didn’t know the elf who detested the taste of tea, the elf who painted beautiful murals on the walls, who could play chess in his head, who had a secret love of romance novels and music. Only she had that privilege. Everyone else who knew the truth of him was gone.

Solas, what have you done?

“You are correct,” Morrigan continued, pulling Ellana out of her troubled thoughts, “but you will need to draw his blood with the lyrium dagger to bind him and I doubt he will approve of the idea.”

Rook smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I can be very persuasive.” A sigh. “But it will be risky.”

Emmrich cleared his throat. “What about this dagger we made while you were trapped in the Fade?” he suggested, sliding the fake dagger across the table. It was nearly identical to the ritual dagger strapped to Rook’s side. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. There were no reverberations of magic threaded through it like the real one. “Odds are,” Emmrich continued, “Solas will need to do something else to complete his ritual. This dagger looks identical, but–”

“It can’t cut through enchantments like the real thing,” Rook finished.

“The backlash of such magic will render him helpless,” Morrigan remarked, glancing briefly at Ellana.

Taash stepped forward. “Uh, are you sure you want to try a bait-and-switch on the Dread Wolf? You know, the god of lies and trickery?”

The leaders gathered around the table all seemed sold on that idea. Trick the trickster. Poetic justice. Ellana had been quiet for too long. She may have been speaking to the void, but her words needed to be heard. “Is there a chance, any chance at all, that he’ll listen to reason?”

“Speaking from the heart, Inquisitor?” Morrigan asked. Her smile was sad, sympathetic to the Inquisitor’s plight.

“How could I not?” Ellana protested. “None of you know him as I do. Well, perhaps you do, Morrigan, sort of. The rest of you don’t. You’ve only ever seen the Dread Wolf. I’ve seen the man beneath all of that. If given the chance–”

“We’ve given him plenty of chances,” Rook said. “And he wasted them at every turn.”

“Not every turn,” Lavellan argued. “He saved you and the Dalish elves from Elgar’nan. Even though he was free from that Fade prison, he still worked with the Shadow Dragons and helped protect them from the Blight. He wants to help. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do. His heart has never been in this plan to tear down the Veil. He just … he feels like he has to do this to make up for everything that happened in the past. Everything that he did for her, for Mythal. If I can talk to him–”

“Varric tried to talk to him,” Rook said. “He died for it.”

Ellana’s heart was a stone in her chest. Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes. “I know.”

“You already tried to talk him out of it before and he took your arm for it.”

Her fists clenched and her bottom lip trembled. “I know.”

“This isn’t a fairytale, Inquisitor. You can’t solve this with the ‘power of love’.” Rook struck the table with his fist, startling Ellana so that she opened her eyes to meet his fiery gaze. “He’s too stuck in his ways. He can’t change. Actually, it’s not even that – he won’t change. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

“Rook,” Bellara said, resting a gentle hand on his arm. “That’s enough.” She had been watching the Inquisitor slowly crumble under Rook’s words and it hurt. Ellana’s struggle to save the man she loved mirrored her own trials with Cyrian. In the end, he redeemed himself, though he paid the ultimate price for it. Bellara didn’t know the Inquisitor well, but she didn’t wish that same fate on her.

Ellana glared at Rook with angry, tear-filled eyes, but she said nothing. They were good points, she wasn’t going to deny it. It infuriated her all the same. She wanted to see Solas. Ten long years she had gone without him and she needed to see him to know for sure that he was too far gone to be brought back. From what she heard, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She had hope that she could reach him, she just needed one more chance.

“You have options,” Morrigan interjected. “And you can make your choice when the time comes. For now, we have Elgar’nan to deal with.”

“Right,” Rook said. He let out a slow breath to simmer the boiling anger inside of him and rubbed the back of his tense, aching neck. The Inquisitor was a legend. She saved the world from a darkspawn magister and his archdemon. Thedas owed her a great debt. He never imagined someone so powerful, who made choices that determined the fate of the world could be so naive. He noticed how young she looked and began to think that maybe it wasn’t the fact that she was an elf. “Elgar’nan is in the Archon’s palace above us. We’ll all climb the tendril as soon as the archdemon is taken care of. Stock up on supplies and say your goodbyes. It’s time to end this nightmare.”

Rook was the first to leave, stalking off to check in with the faction leaders to get an update on their forces. Warden-Commander Cousland followed Davrin, no doubt burning with questions about a living, breathing griffon at his heels. Hawke disappeared into the next room to meet up with Isabela. It had been years since they’d seen each other. Most of the other members of the Veilguard left to their own factions to say goodbye to the friends and family they had made over the years. Many of these people would not be returning after this battle. Already their numbers had thinned in the first assault on the city.

Ellana meandered over to the fireplace. Morrigan watched her for a moment, poised as if ready to say something, but then thought better of it. She gripped the amulet around her neck, a sending stone, and left to a far corner to update her son on the situation. Kieran was safe, as safe as he could be with the world ending as it was. He wanted to join her, but this was a mission she needed to undertake on her own. Besides, if Elgar’nan had the power to sense the soul bound within Kieran …

Dorian joined Ellana by the fireplace. He noticed her biting her thumbnail, tapping her foot restlessly against the stone floor. Tears still shone in her eyes.

“You still love him, do you?” he asked. “After all these years?”

Ellana closed her eyes and lowered her hand. “I will always love him. He’s who I belong with.”

Dorian sighed. He reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. “What am I going to do with you?”

They stood there for a while, staring into the fire, each consumed by their own thoughts. Ellana leaned her head against Dorian’s shoulder. She had missed him. Even with the sending stones, being so far away from him was difficult. He was her rock. When everything was falling apart, he had been there for her. The Inquisition disbanding, Solas leaving her that fateful night in Crestwood and then again after defeating Corypheus, her clan exiling her when she told them the truth about the Dread Wolf … Dorian was there to keep her going. He was her very best friend.

“Dorian, when this is over–”

“I know.”

She lifted her head off of his shoulder and stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. “You do..?”

“My dear, I could see it all over your face at the meeting.” He smiled at her, tears shimmering in his own eyes, and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “And though I don’t believe he will ever be deserving of you or understand why you could love that stubborn, prideful egghead, he makes you happy. And you deserve all the happiness the world can offer.”

“Dorian…” Ellana sniffed and wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face. She felt a soft handkerchief being placed in her hand and wiped at her eyes.

“Don’t start crying, you soft-hearted fool. You’ll make me cry, too, and I refuse to be reduced to a blubbering mess.”

Ellana laughed and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, my friend,” he replied. They held each other for a long moment and when they finally separated, Dorian left to meet with Maevaris.

Ellana stood alone in that room, facing the fireplace for a moment longer and trying to formulate a plan. She would find some way to get to Solas first so they could talk, before Rook took matters into his own hands. As she turned away, she nearly collided with Neve. The mage was staring at her, still as a statue. Her black eyes pulsed with an unnerving intensity and a sinister smile spread far too wide across her face.

“Oh, Neve,” Ellana said. She tried to remember Neve’s real face beneath the corruption. Hopefully this was temporary. Something seemed … different about the mage, though. “I’m sorry. Did you … need something?”

Neve chuckled darkly as she slowly began to circle around Ellana as a predator would its prey. “So, the Dread Wolf has fallen in love,” came a voice that was definitely not Neve’s. It was male, high-pitched and gurgling as if blood filled the lungs. Her irises were a thin white ring against a black backdrop, mirroring the eclipse outside. “And with a mortal, no less. This is interesting news indeed.”

Ellana took a step back and felt the flames of the fire licking her back. Neve matched it. She was cornered and though she had never heard the voice before, the realization came over her all the same. “Elgar’nan,” she whispered.

Her cry for help was cut short by a fleshy tendril erupting from a blighted portal in the ground. It wrapped around her throat, strangling her. She threw out her gauntleted hand and the fire within the hearth snaked around it before jettisoning out at the tendril. The gauntlet was a true marvel of engineering, created especially for Ellana by her arcanist, Dagna. It acted as a staff would, focusing her magic. The tendril shrieked as the flames burned into its flesh. Footsteps and startled voices sounded elsewhere in the building, heading to her location. Another tendril burst forth to trap her body in a vice-like grip.

“Inquisitor!” Morrigan cried out as kicked open the door to the room. Lightning crackled from her fingertips and arced out towards the abominations. The acrid smell of burning flesh made Ellana’s eyes water. She felt the relief of loosening limbs and thrashed about wildly to escape. Morrigan’s attack wasn’t enough, however. More tendrils sprouted from the growing portal around them, wrapping around the Inquisitor further. Dark spots danced in her vision as the air left her. She struggled desperately against the tightening garrote. The whispers of demons promising her the strength to free herself from this horror roared in her mind like thunder, but she fought against them. Slowly, she began to sink into the portal, its red glow casting sinister shadows on her face.

More allies showed up. The Warden-Commander hacked at the tendrils with her dragonbone greataxe, but they sprouted new growths with each strike. Dorian joined Morrigan in a magical assault of lightning and fire. Even Rook struck at the tendrils with the lyrium dagger. It proved to be the most effective weapon against the aberrations. The prison that contained the blight from which they originated was created by that weapon. Pieces fell to the ground in squelching thuds before disintegrating into ash. Instinctively, they coiled tighter around the Inquisitor's body. The last thing the heroes saw was the Inquisitor’s fearful eyes as she was dragged through the portal into the earth.

“Ellana!” Dorian cried out. He slammed his fists against the stone floor as if he could crack it open. “We have to help her!”

Rook stormed up to Neve, still possessed by Elgar’nan, and shook her viciously. “Where have you taken her?!”

The black sclera faded back into white, her irises glowing red once more. Neve blinked. She looked down at Rook’s hands gripping her arms, fingernails digging painfully into her skin, and then around at the people gathered around with their weapons drawn. “Ow, Rook, that hurts! What’s going on? What happened?”

Bellara ran up to her, shocked at Rook's increasing anger. “Elgar'nan possessed you for a minute there. He must be connected to you through the Blight. The Inquisitor is gone. He kidnapped her.”

Neve blanched. To have that horrid creature violating her body like that made her sick. Was that how Lucanis felt when Spite was forced into him? She patted Bellara’s hand to let her know she was okay. Sensing her distress, Lucanis came up beside her and held her hand.

“Damnit!” Rook cursed. He turned to the others, all staring at him with expectant eyes. “He must have taken her to the Archon’s palace.”

“Why would he take the Inquisitor?” Davrin asked. “If anything, I thought he’d kidnap you, Rook.”

Dorian paled as realization dawned on him. “He overheard us…”

“What do you mean?” Rook asked.

“Ellana and I … we were discussing her past relationship with Solas. Elgar’nan must have heard through Neve. He’s going to use her against Solas.”

“Well, shit,” Hawke muttered. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“It shouldn’t mean anything,” Rook said. “I’m sure he thinks it’ll stop Solas from killing his archdemon, but we all know it won’t.”

“Do we?” Morrigan asked.

“Don’t tell me you believe she’s more important than his end goal.”

“It is not a matter of whether or not I believe in his love for her. Solas was a spirit. He is guided by his emotions and he has not seen the Inquisitor in many years. It will, at the very least, distract him. All Elgar’nan needs is an opening, for Solas to let his guard down and he can end the Dread Wolf. Solas is not bound to an archdemon. He is mortal. It only takes one well-placed strike.”

Rook began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, hands on his hips, brow furrowed. “Then we need to get up to the palace as soon as possible. We need that archdemon dead and it’s too fucking big for us to kill it alone.”

“We’ve got other problems,” said Strife as he jogged up to the distraught group with Isabela and the Viper in tow. “Elgar’nan’s army is amassing just outside. Our forces can hold them off while you climb up.”

So they would have to face Elgar’nan with less forces than they planned. That did not bode well, especially if Solas was somehow taken out.

“It’s fine,” Rook said. “The Veilguard can handle Elgar’nan. Just make sure those forces stay here on the ground.”

“We will,” the Warden-Commander promised.

Rook turned to his team. “Let’s do this.”

[nadas-dirthalen]

There are over 100 more of you here since I last posted a list like this! So, in case anyone is waiting on anything for me, or wants to know what I'm up to...

✨A Semi-Complete List of Things I'm Currently Doing: ✨

Ongoing project to build a collection of codices for while Rook is in Fade Jail, accounting for many potential player choices/romance options

Always plotting more theorycrafting stuff! Right now, two main focuses: the Executors/Devouring Storm and the Chant of Light. For... reasons. :)

Also making a theorycrafting video to do with neither of those things. :)) This involves playing Veilguard all over again for the purpose of gathering footage.

Fanfiction! Right now, primarily focusing on Dreams Made Ash and If This Be Our Last Together. But also......... I have four other projects going, that will start being uploaded once I have more of them complete. (Stay tuned for ancient Arlathan, not an AU, with a host of original characters! <3 Stay tuned, also, for the inevitable Veilguard longfic pair: my Rook's story, and Lavellan's/Tabris'/Hawke's, told together in a multi-POV longfic.)

Original Fiction Thing #1

Original Fiction Thing #2

Maybe, one day, I'll nap. But not today, satan.

[quietsun5268]

Which Backstory/Factions suits Qunari!Rook?

Everyone has reasons why they pick a certain race for their Warden/Inquisitor/Rook. For me, I want to give each race their chance to shine like Dwarf!Warden (Qunari is not optional for Warden), Hawke is human as there are no additional race option, Elf!Inquisitor (to me the story suits the Elf!Inquisitor), and now Qunari!Rook.

One of the flaws in Dragon Age: Veilguard is that factions determine your characters surname, not your character's race so they tend to be human-sounding or in a couple of cases elf-sounding. But there are a few backstories that justify the surnames or suits Qunari!Rook.

-Antivan Crows

"When the invaders of Treviso took people captive, Rook was determined to free the prisoners at any cost. A talented new Crow recently promoted to full membership, Rook chafed at the cautions of her/his/their commanders, especially with her/his/their city occupied by brutal soldiers known as the Antaam. When Rook saw a patrol herding along captives one night, s/he(/they) leaped into action. Despite saving lives, however, Rook had unknowingly compromised a larger Crow operation against the Antaam. Rook's superiors were incensed. Sidelined for her/his/their actions, the young assassin searched for new ways to prove herself/himself/themself."

Last Name: De Riva

Antivan Crows often buy orphaned or enslaved children, they become full member by surviving every test the Crows throw at them. Since a majority of recruits don't have a surname of their own, they take the surname of the Noble House of the Crows upon being brought into the fold. So it wouldn't be strange for Qunari!Rook to gave the surname.

One issue is that their usual recruits are human and elves. It's rare to see Qunari outside of their lands with the exception of Rivain and Seheron. Tal-Vashoth and Vashoth are much more present in non-Qunari lands. Another issue is that if we look at the history of Antiva between 6:32 and 6:42 Steel, the Principality was conquered by the invading Qunari forces. In 7:84 Storm, the Third Exalted March ended with the signing of the Llomerryn Accord, and Antiva was freed from Qunari occupation. Some settlements still get occasional attacks from Antaam. The issue would be if Qunari!Rook had to experience racism in Antiva because of the history and how rare Qunari are seen. However, I can see them recruiting a Qunari in case they need someone to infiltrate the Antaam, someone to get in and get out.

-Mourn Watch

"When restless spirits threatened the inhabitants of the Grand Necropolis, Rook took decisive action to protect both the living and the dead. Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order. During a "civil war" between undead nobility, known later as the War of the Banners, s/he(/they) led a daring attack on the rebellion's dueling leaders. It was a success, quelling the war and saving lives. But Rook's destruction of these undead nobles was controversial. Some Mourn Watchers feared Rook had offended the order's aristocratic patrons and encouraged her/him/them to travel for a while."

Last Name: Ingellvar

It would make sense for Qunari!Rook to have Ingellvar as a surname due to being found as an infant and raised by the Mourn Watchers. The question would be, where did they come from and how did a baby Qunari get in the ruins? Looking at the history of Nevarra and it capital Nevarra City (home to the Grand Necropolis), there doesn't seem to be any past conflicts with the Qunari.

-Shadow Dragon

"Rook risked everything to liberate the enslaved people of Tevinter, even knowing it would anger the ruling elite. The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. Alone, s/he(/they) sneaked the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight."

Last Name: Mercar

A foundling Qunari!Rook adopted by a military family would work, as it justifies them having a human-sounding surname. But the problem is that the Tevinter Imperium is in conflict with the Qunari due to being invaded by them in 6:30 Steel and from being only human nation not to sign the Llomerryn Accords which ended the war, refusing to surrender sovereignty over Seheron, and has engaged in conflict with the Qunari ever since. Realistically, if the Mercar family wanted to adopt Qunari!Rook would there be resistance from the elites? I'm not sure how adoption work in Thades. There also the possibility of Qunari!Rook experiencing racism in the Imperium. Would the Mercar family be scrutinized for possible traitors for adopting a Qunari? Plus how would a child Qunari get to in the streets of Minrathous (the Capital City of Tevinter Imperium) without getting killed or enslaved?

-Lords of Fortune

"When a corrupt Rivaini noble double-crossed Rook, Rook escaped a collapsing ruin, turned the tables, and destroyed a dangerous artifact. A rising Lord of Fortune, skilled at breaking into lost tombs and ruins, Rook killed a corrupt Rivaini noble to prevent an ancient evil from being given to the Venatori. Her/His/Their actions were correct and saved the lives of expedition members, but some Rivaini nobles were resentful. Because the success of the Lords' expeditions relied on Rivaini authorities looking the other way, it seemed wise for Rook to step away while tempers settled."

Last Name: Laidir

While this backstory is ambiguous, if we look at the history and settlements of Rivain, Rivain is also home to the only peaceful Qunari settlement on the continent: Kont-aar in northern Rivain. Qunari emissaries are also common sight in Rivaini settlements; however, they stay away from the nobility. So it wouldn't be odd for Qunari!Rook to be part of the faction. But does Laidir sound like a Qunari surname or no? To me it sounds a little… Elf.

The rest of the factions have a more ambiguous background and to me doesn't have anything that would make sense for Qunari!Rook.

-Veil Jumpers

"When lives were at stake, Rook defied orders to rescue people from the mystic perils of Arlathan. On an expedition to ruins in Arlathan Forest, the Veil Jumpers found ruins that contained important lost lore and deadly danger. Barely surviving the ruins' ancient magical defenses, Rook's small team recovered an invaluable map leading to a hidden area of the forest. Although the team escaped, other Veil Jumpers found themselves trapped. Rook chose to return to the ruins, saving her/his/their teammates' lives, but losing the map. S/he(/They) was lauded for her/his/their bravery, but the map's loss caused some resentment among Veil Jumper leaders."

Last Name: Aldwir

The surname sounds elf-sounding

-Grey Wardens

"When innocent lives were at stake, Rook led the charge, saving a village from a monstrous nightmare—no matter the cost to her/him/themself. During a large darkspawn incursion, Rook was ordered to hold the line with other Grey Wardens until reinforcements arrived. Rook argued that by then, villagers under attack would be dead. S/he(/They) disobeyed orders, leading the squad into the incursion and sealing the tunnel to the Deep Roads. This turned the tide, and the darkspawn were driven off, which saved the villagers. Rook's heroism was popular among the younger Wardens, but others with connections to noble families resented her/his/their independent streak. Rook chose to step away while tempers cooled."

Last Name: Thorne

The surname sounds human-sounding

Which backstory/faction do you think suits or makes sense for Qunari!Rook? Or if in the more ambiguous factions which surname is more Qunari-like?

[teine-mallaichte]

WIP Wednesdsay - 29/01/25

So... I found a spirit cat in Treviso and this led to an idea and now a new (hopefully shortish) fic has begun for Storm 'Rook' Hawke 😂

"I have returned."

Anders sighed, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth. Here we go again. Ever since they discovered that Justice could separate from him for short periods and travel across Thedas in the form of a cat—using the Fade to cover great distances—a habit had formed. Justice, ever the dramatist, insisted on announcing his comings and goings. "You know I can feel it when you’re back, right? You don’t have to be so... Dramatic."

"My apologies," Justice's voice resonated in his mind, calm and deliberate. "I have located the firstborn."

"Storm," he corrected sharply, resuming his task of slicing the carrot in front of him. "Just call him Storm. Or my son. Not ‘your firstborn,’ like it’s some kind of title."

"He is your firstborn," Justice countered, unperturbed. "A fact you should not ignore, regardless of how complicated your relationship may be."

Anders’ knife paused mid-slice. He exhaled through his nose, "Just- How is he?"

"He is in Treviso, in Antiva. Traveling with companions—an elf, a human, and… a demon. The human is its host."

The knife clattered against the cutting board as Anders froze, his chest tightening. "A demon?" he hissed. "And you didn’t think to lead with that?"

"I deemed the sequence of information appropriate," Justice replied, unruffled. "The host shows no signs of instability or loss of control. There is no immediate threat."

"Stable. Right. That’s what I said about us before…" He shook his head, his voice dropping to a mutter as he cut himself off. "And Varric?"

"I did not see the dwarf," Justice said. "If he was present, he eluded me."

Anders closed his eyes, exhaling a slow, measured breath. His fingers tapped against the counter as he tried to piece things together. "Let me get this straight: Storm is traveling with a host to a demon of Spite, and Varric - the one who was supposed to keep him out of trouble - is nowhere to be found?"

Justice offered no response.

Anders pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Maker help me. How does he even find himself in these situations? It’s like he’s cursed to stumble into chaos."

"It is not chaos he seeks, but purpose," Justice said. "What seems like chaos is, in truth, the ripple of larger forces at work."

Anders let out a bitter laugh. "Great. My son’s a magnet for destiny. How reassuring."

Justice said nothing, and Anders returned to slicing the vegetables. "We can’t tell Autumn about this."

"Usually, no," Anders admitted. "But in this instance? Absolutely. Because if she finds out, she’ll have us packed and halfway to Antiva by the end of the week."

"You would have us lie to her?"

[teine-mallaichte]

Late the the game but meh, this looks fun :P

And this has a sort of fun story - sort of.

So Autumn Hawke is TERRIBLE at naming things/people. So as an example her and Anders have a cat called "cat" and a mabari called "dog". So when their first child was born in the middle of a thunderstorm... well, you get the idea.

Anders has since banned her from naming anything - which is why their other kids are Holly and Rowan and not some other weather phenomenon or something like "chair" because she happened to see a chair while trying to name them. Honestly Storm was lucky his name didn't end up being more ridiculous.

He's also lucky that Varric insisted on given all of Hawkes kids bird related nicknames, so he's been Rook as much as he's been Storm since he was about 8.

It’s Monday Morning 👎👎👎🚫🚫

It’s the Rook Introduction Hour ! 🥳🥳🎊🎊🙌

For new people, it works like this: I ask you about your Rook, and if you want you can rb and answer, and then I’ll rb it back here and comment a bit !

I really made you all work last week, so let’s do something easier: What is the significance of your Rook’s (first) name? Who gave it to them— did they pick it themselves? Do they have any nicknames (besides Rook)? Who gave those to them? Do they like their name?

Feel free to answer as much/little as you like!

[lottiesnotebook]

First Line Challenge

Tagged by @teine-mallaichte (thank you! Also sorry I missed this three days ago!)

You shared a first line from a Storm 'Rook' Hawke fic, so I think it's only fair to share a line about his sister's first fic-exploit as Rook, that I started on Monday while at the GP's. Do I have a title? Nope. Is it in a genre I'm good at? No, it's a romance/comedy of manners but with more murder and higher stakes. Does it even have a plot? No, but I'm still putting that blonde man in the Torment Nexus despite the fact that the fic isn't even about him.

Anyway, have some Arranged Marriage AU!

It seemed impossible to Lucanis Dellamorte that he was betrothed, that in little under a month, he would be married. His grandmother’s letter felt absurdly heavy between his fingers, as if it bore a weight far beyond mere ink and parchment, which he supposed it did - it held the whole weight of his future, of an unknown woman’s future. Perhaps it made him a poor assassin, that such a thing sat heavy in his hand, but death was a passing moment, and marriage… marriage could be an eternity.

Tagging people is weird, but let's try... @adainesjacket, @hyperions-light, @heylavellan (if you haven't been tagged already! No pressure) and also anyone else who wants to play too. Please tag me so I can see your WIPs!

[stormseclipse]

I’ve been holding onto these for months but I might as well post them now.

Behold! Eclipse’s official ref! Hopefully I won’t want to change it in the future.

Fun facts about the designs: For Rook, I wanted to emulate the look the cadets had at the academy while also giving her a more unique design. She also has a few elements from Ace’s uniform, to better tie them together.

For Eclipse, I had the idea that the team gives her pieces of their clothes to make her new uniform, so she feels like she belongs with them as their new member.

She also keeps some elements of her old uniform, because it’s still a part of who she is.

[mousetoe-wc]

I Got bored one time awhile ago and made a list of every prefix plus some into organised sections so I thought I might as well share.

All the ones that aren’t cannon to warriors, yet at lest are bold

Describing names

Colours: red, russet, copper, golden, amber, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, white, gray, black, ebony, dark, pale, silver, brown, tawny, fallow

Pattern, Texture + Size: spot/ted, dapple, speckle, freckle, brindle, patch, mottle, ragged, tangle, kink, bristle, fuzzy, curl/y, wooly, soft, sleek, little, tiny, small, slight, short, tall, long, big, heavy, crooked, broken, half, stumpy, shred, torn, jagged

Actions + Character: flip, pounce, bounce, jump, hop, crouch, down, low, drift, flail, strike, running, fidget, mumble, whistle, snap, sneeze, shiver/ing, shining, flutter, fallen, lost, rush, fleet, quick, shy, sweet, brave, loud, quiet, wild, hope, wish,

Other: claw, whisker, dead, odd, one, spike, fringe, echo, song, hallow, haven

Elements

Time + Weather: day, night, dusk, dawn, morning, sky, sun/ny, moon, storm, lightning, thunder, cloud/y, mist/y, fog, snow, blizzard, ice, frost, dew, drizzle, rain, clear, wind, breeze, gale, shadow, shade, bright, light,

Earth/Water/Fire names: stone, rock, boulder, slate, flint, pebble, gravel, sand/y, dust, mud/dy, meadow, hill, rubble, river, ripple, whorl, float, rapid, shimmer, lake, swamp, marsh, wave, wet, bubbling, splash, puddle, pool, creek, fire, flame, flicker, flash, blaze, scorch, ember, spark, ash, soot, cinder, smoke

Plants

Trees: alder, aspen, birch, beech, cedar, cypress, pine, elm, willow, oak, larch, maple, bay, rowan, timber, bark, log, wood, twig, acorn, cone, seed, spire

Berry/Nut/Fruit/Herb: juniper, elder, sloe, holly, yew, mistle, bramble, hickory, hazel, chestnut, nut, apple, cherry, cranberry, olive, pear, plum, peach, chive, mint, fennel, sage, basil, mallow, parsley

Flowers: aster, poppy, primrose, rose, bluebell, marigold, tansy, pansy, briar, cherry, daisy, dandelion, daffodil, tulip, violet, lily, myrtle, thrift, yarrow, heather, lavender, blossom, bloom, flower, petal

Other: leaf, frond, fern, bracken, sorrel, hay, rye, oat, wheat, cotton, reed, pod, cinnamon, milkweed, grass, clover, weed, stem, sedge, gorse, furze, flax, nettle, thistle, ivy, moss, lichen, bush, vine, root, thorn, prickle, nectar

Animals

Mammals: mouse, rat, mole, vole, shrew, squirrel, hedgehog, bat, rabbit, hare, ferret, weasel, stoat, mink, marten, otter, hog, wolf, hound, fox, vixen, badger, deer, doe, stag, fawn, sheep, cow, pig, lion, tiger, leopard, lynx, milk

Birds: robin, jay, cardinal, thrush, sparrow, swallow, shrike, starling, rook, swift, dove, pigeon, crow, raven, duck, goose, heron, wren, finch, swan, stork, quail, gull, lark, owl, eagle, hawk, kestrel, buzzard, kite, hoot, feather, bird, egg, talon

Fish, Reptiles + Amphibians: pike, perch, pollack, trout, tench, cod, carp, bass, bream, eel, minnow, fin, snake, adder, lizard, turtle, frog, toad, newt

Bug type Names: bug, lady or ladybug, moth, spider, ant, snail, slug, beetle, bee, wasp, dragon or dragonfly, bumble, worm, maggot, cricket, fly, midge, web, honey

Skyclan + Warriorclan: Bella, Billy, Big, Harry, Harvey, Snook, Ebony, Monkey