#tabristair | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatapostateboy · 4 months ago

Text

never could be sweeter than with you

Pairing: Tabris x Alistair

Word Count: 2790

Synopsis: Tabris takes Alistair home to meet the family

Prompt: Day Nine: Home from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Crossposted: Here on AO3

He doesn't expect to see Tabris standing in the doorway to his room late that afternoon. After everything that has happened today, the things they saw in the Alienage, he hadn’t even really expected her to return with their party to Eamon’s estate. They had seen her father back to his house, and they had waited outside as Tabris led him in, ensuring he was safely with her cousins before she had rejoined them.

She had said little on the walk back, there was still blood on her weapons and armour from where she had cut down the slavers that had threatened her people, but he noted that some of it had been washed away when she had been in her childhood home.

And now, a few hours later, she was freshly washed, still an almost angry sheen to her skin where she had clearly scrubbed the blood and grime from herself. She had dressed herself in a clean tunic, no armour in sight, damp hair brushed back out of her face.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She returned a gentle, “Hey.”

“Would it be stupid to ask how you are?”

“From anyone else? Probably,” she said, “But from you? I’m… handling it.”

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight, figured you might need some space,” he admitted, “But whatever you need, I’m here.”

She padded across the room to him and leaned into his arms. He expected her to cry, but instead she simply leaned into the warmth of his familiar embrace. He held her tight, grounding her to this moment, with him. He knew that everything they had seen today had brought up far too many memories of the day she was recruited, losing herself to that same rage as the people she loved were once again in danger. He couldn’t take away the pain, but he could be a fixed point for her; something she had been for him enough times.

“Will you come with me tonight?”

He glanced down at her, “Come with you where?”

She tilted her head up to look at him, “My family asked me to come back for dinner. I’d like you to mee them.”

“You really want me to?” his eyebrows raised a little, “It’s your first time being able to spend time with them since you left home, and after everything that’s happened-“

“I want them to know you,” she said, “I want them to see the man who makes me happy.”

He frowned a little, “But I’m not…”

“Not what?”

“Tab, I’m not an elf.”

She felt a surge in her chest as she looked at him, suddenly hearing her own words in his mouth, questioning how he could want to be with an elf.

“I don’t care about that, and neither will they,” she assured him, “You are the man I love, and that is all they will see… Besides, I think we all deserve some joy after everything that has happened.”

He nodded, offering her a soft smile, “Okay, I’m in.”

She smiled a little to herself as she rested her head back against his chest, hearing the way his heartbeat picked up as he began to panic about meeting her father.

*~*~*

Later that evening, after Alistair dressed and redressed six times in and out of the three clean shirts he owned, desperately trying to decide what would be most appropriate but not overdressed for meeting his would-be father-in-law for the first time in an official capacity, they finally made their way out of the estate towards the Alienage.

Tabris paused in front of the door to her childhood home, looking a little more presentable herself with fresh eyeliner and her short hair now dried and styled, a bottle of wine procured from Eamon’s cellar in her hand. Alistair watched a slight frown pass over her face as she reached for the doorhandle before switching and instead knocking.

The door swung open to reveal the older elf that he had met earlier, Cyrion, Tab’s father, still looking worse for ware, though there was no doubting the surge of life that went through him as he took in the sight of his child.

“My darling girl, come in, you didn’t have to knock on your own front door you-” he trailed off when he saw the tall human man stood behind his daughter, “You’re not alone, I see. Is there further trouble we should know about?”

“Father, this is Alistair,” Tabris held her hand out, and Alistair took it, though was still half a step behind her, “I know you met earlier but I wanted to bring him here to meet you properly, as my family.”

Cyrion glanced between the pair for a second, truly understanding what she meant, “Oh- of course, come in, come in, food will be ready shortly. I hope you like stew, young man.”

“Y-yes sir,” Alistair said nervously, stepping into the house behind Tabris as Cyrion let them in, head ducked under the smaller doorframe.

“Sir? I like him already,” Cyrion chuckled, pulling up another stool to the table and grabbing another bowl to lay it with.

Soris and Shianni, who were busying themselves in the kitchen, both glanced up and looked at the human with wide eyes, before they glanced to each other and shit eating grins crossed their faces.

“Well, it isn’t the first time Ro’s turned up on the doorstep with a human, but it’s the first time he wasn’t a guard dragging her home,” Soris quipped, grabbing the bread he’d been slicing and bringing it to the table.

“Soris!” she hissed at him as she and Alistair took their seats, “Shut up!”

“You used to get dragged home by the guards?” Alistair asked.

“It wasn’t a… frequent occurrence.”

“Frequent enough you got on a first name basis with half of the guards,” Soris pointed out.

Alistair smiled, feeling every hint of apprehension about this evening melting out of him as he was welcomed into the conversation without a second thought, “So she’s always been a troublemaker?”

“Always. Too much like her mother,” Cyrion chided softly, glancing fondly at his daughter, “Adaia taught her well, in combat, and in her nature to not keep her head down.”

“Do no harm, take no shit,” she and Shianni quoted at the same time.

“Girls, language,” he huffed, “But yes, my wife was a wise woman. And she passed that on to our daughter. You’ve always been a fighter, I almost feel sorry for the darkspawn if you fight them as scrappily as you used to fight boys in the marketplace.”

She glanced at Alistair, “They were all asking for it.”

He chuckled, “I don’t doubt it for a second.”

Cyrion attempted to lift the pot of stew from the kitchen towards the table, but he winced in pain, a sign of either age catching up to him or something he’d obtained at the hands of the Tevinter mages, but as all three members of his family moved towards him, it was Alistair was reached him first, surging up from his seat, one hand to steady to the older elf, the other taking the weight of the pot’s handle.

“Please, allow me,” he said.

Shianni and Soris both glanced at Tabris with impressed looks, and even Tab herself looked at him with an adoration that struck her near silent, until she realised that she was staring, so got to her own feet, taking over steadying her father so that Alistair could carry the stew to the table.

“What an awfully polite young man,” Cyrion murmured to his daughter as she helped him into his seat.

They all took their seats at the table and Shianni began serving out the stew to them all, and Tab noted that she gave an extra half ladle’s worth to Alistair. Whether she thought he needed more food because he was human, or as a small way of thanks for helping her uncle, she wasn’t sure, but she ignored her cousin’s knowing smirk across the table.

Wine was poured, many compliments passed to whatever ancestor of Eamon’s had put this bottle in his cellar. As they ate, Cyrion began to ask questions about their travels since she left home, first aimed at his daughter, then opened up to the pair of them as he realised how long they had been travelling together. Alistair followed her lead, speaking of the things that had happened, but pointedly leaving out the details of mortal peril. Alistair had known the man all of one evening but he could tell how much he worried for his daughter.

As conversation went on, second helpings of stew served, the bread all now long gone, it turned from the travels to personal memories, shared from the family to Alistair and he providing some of his own, talking of nights at camp when Tab would make this exact stew recipe, and how she would always manage to find him the best cheeses to try when they passed by a new village, and that time in Orzammar when she had wrestled a nug almost a big as a mabari, and that one joke that she had told him that had him splitting his sides with laughter for days; which he then discovered Cyrion had taught to her as a child.

Alistair felt a warmth in his chest that he did not expect, swapping stories with them all, enjoying a quiet, simple meal. It felt like nights at camp but somehow better, more intimate in a way he had never experienced before. It was almost like those few months he had spent with the other Wardens before everything happened, the closest he could describe was the bond he felt with Duncan.

This was what a real family was.

No wonder Tabris had sacrificed everything for it, to save these people and the others that were part of this community. He felt just about ready to take on the Blight specifically just to save the people around this table alone just after one evening, let alone being raised with this much love and affection.

He was on his feet again as Cyrion began to collect up their now empty bowls.

“Let me,” he said, taking the bowls from Cyrion’s hands.

“You’re a guest, I am not expecting you to clean,” the older elf chuckled.

“Please, I insist, it’s the least I can do after you welcomed me into your home. You should be resting.”

“Very well, it would be amiss for me to refuse such a kind offer” he retook, “I’m sure Soris can show you where everything goes.”

“And I think Alarith had some hearth cakes at his store,” Shianni said, “Let me see if I can get them off of him for a fair price. I think we all deserve some dessert tonight.”

As she headed out the door, Soris and Alistair headed to the kitchen to begin to clean up, leaving Cyrion alone for the first time with his daughter.

“There’s something I’ve been waiting to give you,” he said, nodding to a small wrapped bundle on one of the shelves. She grabbed it and returned to the table, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a curved blade.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It was your mother’s,” he told her, “She called it Fang, always said she wanted you to have it when you were old enough. She kept it hidden under the floorboards so that if she was ever searched for weapons she wouldn’t lose it.”

She traced a finger along the blade’s edge, noting its sharpness, “It’s beautiful.”

“I know I haven’t spoken of her truly since her death. I was so scared of you following her down the same path, and yet, when I look at you, I see only her and there is nothing that makes me prouder than that… but there are some things about your mother that neither of us ever told you.”

She met his eyes, “I know.”

“You- you know?”

“I know she was Dalish. I met some elves from her clan. They told me about her, about how she grew up among the Dalish and received her training and her vallaslin.”

He sighed, “I’m sorry you had to learn about it this way. Your mother always planned to tell you when the time was right, to teach you the other part of your heritage when you were old enough to not go running off trying to find the Dalish.”

“She did teach me. Maybe not all of it, but she taught me their stories, and how to fight. Turns out I named my dog after one of their gods so I’m pretty sure I didn’t get to the part where you don’t offend the Dalish in that way, but I don’t need some grand reveal about my ancestry. I am who I am because of her, but also because of you. I am proud to be your daughter as well. I loved the Dalish clan, but this is my home. It always will be.”

He wrapped his arms around her, “Oh my dear little girl. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He pulled back a little to grasp her hands, glancing towards the kitchen where Alistair and Soris were talking quietly as they washed and dried the dishes, “And your man, he makes you happy?”

She smiled, “He does.”

“He treats you well?”

“As though I’m a queen.”

His eyebrows raised, “And he’ll make an honest woman out of you?”

“Father!”

“I know you didn’t care for an arranged marriage, but to someone you love…?”

She relented another smile, “Yes, I think that is his intention. Some day.”

“Good,” he nodded, “And I want lots of grandchildren.”

She felt her heart sink into her stomach when he said that. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and smiled, “As many as we can have.”

“Good, it’s gotten far too quiet with you all moving out.”

Shianni returned with an armful of hearth cakes, divvying them out amongst the family, giving two each to Tabris and Alistair, stating that Alarith had given them to her for free for ‘the heroes of the Alienage’. They all shared in their sweet treats together, and farewells were finally said, all of them relenting that rest would be needed.

They parted with hugs shared between them all, even Alistair who was embraced warmly by Cyrion, telling him that he was welcome any time.

Hand in hand, they headed towards the bridge that would lead back towards the estate.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him, “What are you thanking me for? I should be grateful that you put up with my family.”

“I’m grateful because I got to be a part of a real family for a night,” he admitted, “I know you’ve told me about some of the awful things that have happened in the Alienage, but your family… that’s the kind of family I’ve always dreamed of. The love you all have for each other, you’re lucky to have that.”

“Yeah… I guess I am,” she nodded, then gave him a small smile, “Though, it’s extended to you now. They all love you, by the way.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “My father is already planning our wedding, and I think he’s readying himself for grandchildren.”

“Ah…”

“I didn’t tell him. It was nice to let him be happy.”

They made the rest of the walk in silence, both of them thinking on the life that they knew they couldn’t share in together.

*~*~*

Fifteen years later.

The door to Cyrion’s home burst open, no longer the house in the Alienage, instead a refurbished groundskeeper apartment on the grounds of Vigil’s Keep, the place he had been gifted by his daughter and now son-in-law after the Blight, to give him somewhere to grow old in peace, though he found very little peace nowadays.

“Grandpa!” two tiny voices called to him, along with the bark of a very old Mabari, three of his grandchildren; Duncan, Adaia and old Fen, all bounding through his home, clamouring for his attention.

“Hey!” Tabris called from outside, “I told you all to let your grandfather rest.”

“It’s no trouble,” Cyrion chuckled, scooping the two dark haired half elves up onto his lap to embrace them both, throwing a saved lamb bone to Fen.

Alistair joined Tabris in the open doorway, wrapping an arm around his wife to watch their kids bother their grandpa, the old man watching them both with rapt adoration.

“Hey,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her hair.

She leaned into his arms, letting out a content sigh as she returned a gentle, “Hey.”

#dragon age #dao #dragon age origins #writing #veilbound #alistair theirin #tabris #tabristair #tabris x alistair #cyrion tabris

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thatapostateboy · 4 months ago

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the funny tricks of time

Pairing: Rowena Tabris x Alistair Theirin - focus is on Alistair and their daughter

Word Count: 1541

Synopsis: Alistair stands ready for the most important mission of his life

Prompt: Day Fourteen: Regency from the Veilbound challenge by @/nympthi and @/citadrells on Twitter

Warnings: the prompt really got away from me with this one, no actual regency takes place, nor is it regency themed… my brain went 'royalty' and this is what fell out

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Alistair took a deep breath, straightening his armour for the tenth time since he’d gotten dressed less than an hour ago. It was a purely decorative set that would never see combat, commissioned specifically for today, Ferelden silverite inlaid with the Mabari crest of the Theirin family and griffon wings to depict the heraldry of the Wardens, a deep blue tabard underneath to offset the gleaming silver. At his hip, as always sat Starfang, though his favoured shield, the one that had once been Duncan’s, was stashed safely away in his chambers; there would be no need for battle today.

He checked the parcel tucked under his arm, then finally raised his hand and knocked on the door in front of him, hearing a soft call from within telling him to enter. He opened it and the first sight he was met with was that of his darling wife.

Tabris’ outfit complemented his; a suit of a matching blue, an ornamental silverite breastplate with matching crests decorating it. Her dark hair had a few streaks of grey, her sharp eyes framed with deep set laughter lines, but even after nearly thirty years of marriage he was still struck with how beautiful she was, the signs of age on her face only serving to increase his affection. There was a version of their lives where a cure was never found, and they would both have surrendered to the Calling by now.

And yet, they were still here, able to grow old together.

“Is it time?” she asked.

He nodded, “They’ll be expecting us in a few minutes.”

It was then that the other figure in the room turned around; the young woman whose hair Tabris had been tidying when he entered. Adaia Tabris-Theirin was a perfect mix of her parents. She had inherited Alistair’s eyes, her mother’s dark hair and both of their infectiously good-hearted natures. She rose from her dressing table to greet her father, standing taller than her elven mother, though she had never reached Alistair’s height.

It was the only way the twenty-year-old was going to remain his little girl, he thought with a tinge of nostalgic sadness in his chest.

Tabris gave her daughter’s hand one last squeeze then headed for the door, “I’ll go and find Duncan,” she said, “I’ll see you both in there.”

She closed the door behind herself, leaving father and daughter alone.

“So,” she said, meeting his eyes, “What do you think?”

She gestured to the long white dress she was wearing. He knew little of fabrics or the work of dressmaking, but there was no doubting that this was the finest wedding dress anyone could have asked for, and each part of it highlighted an aspect of Adaia. Orlesian silk shoes sent from Divine Victoria herself, Ferelden lacework depicting her family’s heraldry, a belt of the finest Antivan leather to hold her decorative rapier; a gift from the leader of the Crows, a silverite hair clasp holding her dark locks off of her neck in the shape of a rose; given to her by her mother who had worn it on her wedding day.

He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes, “You look beautiful, Addie.”

She stepped up close to take his face in her hands, “Oh Papa, don’t cry, this is a happy day.”

He sniffed back his tears, “I’m just proud of you, that’s all, and believe me you’re going to hear your old man blubbering a lot more before today is done… Before we go in there, I actually have a gift for you.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said.

“It’s your wedding day,” he reminded her, “Of course I was going to give you something.”

He held out the linen-wrapped parcel he’d been carrying, nodding encouragingly as she took it from his grasp, frowning at the weight of it. She unwrapped it to reveal a longsword.

She pulled it from its sheathe to examine it and gasped as she felt the pure magic emanating from the blade, the runes lighting up at her touch. Her eyes moved over its design, and she felt the air get knocked out of her as she finally realised what she was holding.

“This is Maric’s blade. I recognise it from the portraits…” she finally looked at her father again, “I heard it was lost at Ostagar. Expeditions have been sent to find it, and it was never recovered.”

“It was lost, until your mother and I found it,” he told her, “We returned to Ostagar, and cleared out the ‘spawn. We laid Cailan’s body to rest, and we managed to get into the royal arms chest. We tried to give it to Anora along with Cailan’s armour, but she insisted I keep the sword; said it was a family heirloom. I never used it during the Blight for fear of anyone seeing it and assuming I was vying for the throne. So I kept it safe, and then even when it was all over, it didn’t feel right using it, and I had Starfang at that point,” his hand rested on the hilt of his sword, “I never had a plan for it, was never sure I’d have children of my own to hand it on to. But then we had you and your brother.”

“But what about Duncan?” she asked, “He’s the eldest.”

“I’ve promised Starfang to Duncan,” he said, “But this is yours. The Theirin name never meant much to me, I didn’t even intend to keep it when your mother and I married, but she said I should; said my past was important. If it’s helped in any way to get you here, to marrying the love of your life, then it was all worth it… And I know you have your magic, but it’ll give me some peace of mind to know you’ve always got a decent blade at your side.”

She set the blade aside for a moment to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug, “Thank you… for everything.”

He gave a watery laugh as he embraced her, pressing a kiss to the top of her dark hair, “C’mon, we should get in there before I cry too much and ruin your dress.”

He helped her secure the scabbard to her side in place of the ornamental ceremonial rapier she’d been given, thinking of how he had first showed her how to do this as a girl, securing a wooden toy sword to her hip so she could keep up with her brother as they played in the courtyard of Vigil’s Keep.

He offered her the crook of his arm and she took it, holding tight to him as he led her from the bedchamber, through grand hallways, until they finally reached two large wooden doors.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, “Because if you’re not, I’ll have you out of here in a second.”

“Papa!” she laughed in protest.

“I mean it, Addie. I will always have your back.”

She smiled widely at him, “I know.”

Music began to play on the other side of the doors and on cue, he led her into the throne room of Ferelden’s royal palace.

The room was crowded, more people than had been there for the celebration after the Fifth Blight, the balconies and eaves draped with white roses, at Adaia’s request. All eyes were on her, and she heard whispers rippling through the crowd as they began to spot the blade she carried. Alistair felt her tighten her grip around his arm, but she kept her eyes forward and pace steady, head held high.

At the end of the aisle awaited her groom, the young golden-haired Prince of Ferelden, Gareth Mac Tir, heir to the throne after his mother Queen Anora.

Adaia knew that there were many at court that saw her as a crown chaser, but the truth was far simpler. She loved Gareth, with all of her heart. They had met as children when formal occasions had called her parents to court, and as she had found her own reasons to return to Denerim as an adult, they had fallen for each other. It was a controversial match, for a known half elven mage to be the chosen bride of their future king, sure to bring trouble, but neither of them had relented, determined to wed.

Gareth stepped down from the dais to take Adaia’s hand from Alistair’s grasp.

He blinked a few times, his vision swimming with tears as he thought of Loghain’s final words, spoken almost in this very spot, as he could see all of the years wiped away, his darling daughter a young child again, laughing and smiling as though they were rough-housing in their living quarters at Vigil’s Keep, Duncan quickly joining their game, Tabris in an armchair beside them, a grey muzzled Fen curled up in front of the fire.

He took her hand, giving it a tight squeeze before placing it into her soon-to-be husband’s, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he clasped a hand to Gareth’s shoulder; a reminder to look after this most precious of gifts.

Daughters remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees, forever.

#dragon age #alistair theirin #tabris #tabristair #alistair x tabris #writing #veilbound

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