#uldred was going to do his thing anyway. the circle - and jowan - and her - were doomed anyway

[herearedragons]

...the fun thing about getting both Wynne collapsing and the Romance Intervention before talking to her at camp is that, at the beginning of that second conversation, Kyana has kind of forgotten the collapsing incident in the first place and is sure that Wynne is going to talk to her about Zevran again. And then the reveal hits, and suddenly there are kind of more important things at play than bickering about relationships, and they kind of make up?? I'm definitely reading those last lines as Kyana letting go of whatever grudge might have been forming against Wynne, and Wynne's "I think you'll be alright" being a kind of apology for the "intervention".

[da2supremacy]

You mentioned DA roleplaying and I have to ask, how is that done? Do you use your characters from games? Make up a less important oc? Self insert?

So back in the day I was on three different invionsfree forums that were more or less ran and populated by the same core of people. A couple people were on one that weren't on another but the main players were all present on each one. Honestly, I might still follow some of them on my main tumblr but it's been so many years and so many url changes that I do not know who any of them are anymore lmao. Shout out it's Dylvon here, ya'll.

Anyway the subject of the RP changed based on the forum. Picking up a canon character or Warden Origin was done with an application. It was generally first come first serve. To play an OC you just made the character and ran with it. The beauty of forums meant that many threads could be going on at once and simply placed in a time line. This could all be meticulously organized so it really ended up feeling like you were one of many moving pieces in a puzzle. You could have NPCs that weren't yet in the story actually playing out what we knew them to be doing at the time of XYZ event in the game. Like on Reckoning while the Warden group was in Redcliff we were playing out Uldred's rebellion in a thread called, so very cleverly, "Breaking Circle". The three forums were as follows.

Reckoning: A re imagining of Origins with every origin surviving and every character from the franchise somehow in Ferelden to stop the blight. It was a mix of OCs and canon characters. I played Neria Surana. There was also a Solona Amell. We split the origin between us. Neria was the one that ratted Jowan out to my boy Irving. Solona was the one that actually liked Jowan. I believe we had Solona go to Ostagar with Wynne while Neria was excused from her business with Jowan bc the timeline shifted it closer to Uldred's nonsense. I was around for the start of this one and while Tabris is and shall always be my main Warden Surana is close to my heart simply bc I enjoyed being *this* Surana. Somnium: An Au. I went to college around the time this one was starting so I actually don't remember it's premise very well. It had something to do with the fade. I was Lyna Mahariel for all of probably four posts.

I forgot what we called the forum for DA2, but it was a standard playthrough of DA2 + some OCs. I played an OC named Elain who was the inspiration for the Inquisitor that was the liveblog at the beginning to this blog . A dalish elf who was taken away from her clan by a group of handsome apostates who she quickly realized would be the death of her. Admittedly, I do not think Elain was my best work in retrospect. Inquisition improved what was a poor character to begin with. A lot of contrived paper thin justifications for why she shared my opinions about various things that by all means she should not have shared. I was also in the middle of my Conservative Deprogramming so the takes were not hot. I was the designated "unpleasant character enjoyer" and therefore the only one that could play Petrice and Marethari straight. I understand Petrice. She is abhorrent but I understand her. Defending Marethari as a fool but maybe not the devil incarnate prepared me for being a Solas enjoyer.

If I were to make one now the premise I'd probably go with is "Inquisition agents doing the war table missions" with the honored Canon character positions being Sutherland and his posse, any named Inquisition agent in a war table briefing and any given member of The Chargers. Special mentions for Rylen, Charter and whoever the hell ran the base you can take in the other Orlesian map.

As for how people RP DA NOW?

Fuck if I know man. This was all happening in 2011. I've been out of the creating things part of the fandom for years. If anyone still RPs in DA give me a call and the low down.

[thessalian]

Jallira!Warden vs the Halls of Home

Outside the Spoiled Princess

Jallira: It feels like the world is full of a little too much coincidence. What are the odds of tripping over one of King Cailan’s former honour guard all the way out here? I’d have to wonder if he was looking for us, or at least some indication of what happened with Duncan ... which means our location isn’t as secret as we’d have liked. I mean, I know we told Loghain’s man what we were doing but he could hardly have reached Denerim yet and anyway there were about a half-dozen places we could have gone instead and--

Kester: You still overthinking everything, lass? Have done since you were first in my boat on the way to Circle!

Jallira: Oh! Hello, Kester. But ... speaking of Bessie, why aren’t you nearby to her? I was hoping to get to Kinloch Hold and--

Kester: Ser Greagoir took my boat and left that little toe-rag in charge of it. Said not to worry but he didn’t look like not-worrying to me.

Jallira: Oh. Carroll. Erm ... I’m going to see about the ‘not-worry’ so hopefully once that’s cleared up we can reunite you and Bessie. Okay? I just need to speak to this gentleman about ... oh. Desertion. That’s never a good sign.

Sammael: You die now!

Jallira: ...All right, new plan. Self-defense, then we get you Bessie back.

A little while later

Carroll: Oh. You.

Jallira: Hello, Ser Carroll. We’d like to get to the Tower, please.

Carroll: I’m not supposed to let anyone through!

Jallira: Isn’t it sort of your job to put mages in the Circle?

Carroll: Um...

Jallira: And Ser Greagoir has that whole thing about dereliction of duty?

Carroll: Ummmmmmm...

Jallira: I would truly hate to see you demoted.

Carroll: All right, all right, but if you’re going back out again, I’m not responsible! *stalks towards boat*

Leliana: That ... made ... no sense.

Jallira: Ser Carroll is ... loyal. Dutiful. But not very bright.

Morrigan: T’was already obvious that the Templars did not recruit for intelligence. Alistair illustrated that point quite well.

Alistair: Ha, ha. Can we just go?

Morrigan: I shall not! I shall be here, restocking my herbs. And you will take that mongrel with you. He is the reason I am obliged to wander the land hereabouts to restock.

Sten: I will stand guard here. I am surrounded by more saarebas than I care to be, most days.

Jallira: *sigh*

And, at the Circle Tower

Greagoir: Oh. You.

Jallira: That seems to be the default Templar greeting for me today. How have you been, Ser Greagoir? You look ... harried.

Greagoir: The place is swarming with demons and abominations and possessed Templars and it’s all your fault!

Jallira: ...........meep?

Leliana: Translation: she was not even here when this began, so she would be very grateful if you could explain how she could have caused this.

Greagoir: That business with Jowan--

Jallira: ........meep!

Alistair: Translation: that should have made you more vigilant, not less.

Muffin: *snarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl*

Jallira: And ... that ... translates to ‘please stop being mean and tell me how I can help’. ...Please.

Greagoir: If you want to throw your life away looking for Irving, have at it. But if you don’t get him back down here, alive and unpossessed, before reinforcements arrive, we’re Anulling the shit out of this place.

Jallira: ..............meep.

Leliana: I believe that translates to swear words she refuses to say.

Greagoir: Ugh. Maker turn his gaze on you, all that shit. Try not to die.

And, inside...

Jallira: .............................

Leliana: She has gone beyond ‘meep’. How worried should I be?

Alistair: You remember back in Lothering when she was calculating about Fade hornets? I think we’re past that.

Leliana: Oh, dear.

Wynne: ...Jallira?

Jallira: Wynne! *HUGS*

Wynne: Oof! Goodness, you must have been worried. Well, I suppose with good reason. I’m grateful you survived, too. Uldred was...

Jallira: Uldred was Uldred; I think I understand. He got snitty in a war council at Ostagar and now I suppose he’s reached peak snit.

Wynne: That’s one way of putting it. How did you get in?

Jallira: Erm ... if I don’t find Irving and if he’s not alright ... before reinforcements from Denerim get here ... Ser Greagoir said he’s going to Annul the ... erm, excrement ... out of this place.

Wynne: Then finding Irving first sounds like a marvellous plan. Let me just take down this barrier I’ve been holding and join you.

Alistair: Not that we wouldn’t be grateful for the help, but ... there are children here. And ... traumatised apprentices. Who’s going to look after them?

Children: *playing with a happy happy Muffin*

Alistair: Ah. Yes. War dog. Never mind.

Wynne: All right. Erm ... Alistair, was it? You might wish to keep an eye on Jallira when we get a look at the library.

Alistair: What-- oh.

Leliana: I’m not sure I understand...

Jallira: ..........oh Maker the poor books...

Leliana: Ah. Now I understand.

Alistair: Jallira? No. You cannot reorganise everything, Jallira--

Abominations: RAAAAAAAAAAA

Jallira: LEAVE. THE. BOOKS. ALONE.

Abominations: *die a horrible flaming death*

Leliana: She is that concerned about the books ... and yet she’ll use fire around them?

Wynne: This is a mage’s library, Leliana. If we didn’t make the books at least somewhat fireproof, we wouldn’t have a library left. Annnnnnd she’s organising.

Jallira: I am not! There are at least five summoning rituals in progress in this building and we need fewer of those! We’re going to have to shut them down.

Alistair: Jallira--

Jallira: I cannot bring back the dead and I cannot unpossess the possessed and I cannot even fix this horrific mess in the library but I can at least do this so that demons don’t come up behind us and maybe eat Muffin.

Wynne: ...not the children?

Jallira: Muffin is a marvel and his last act would be to ensure that his enemies choked to death on his bones before they could harm others.

Alistair: How does she sound almost cheerful when she says that?

A couple of floors later...

Jallira: I’m not sure I understand how this Tranquility thing works. Owain has no emotions but he has preferences? And they all say ‘thank you’ but gratitude is an emotion. So are they just saying the words out of politeness but don’t mean it? But that doesn’t explain the preference for the familiar because that implies ... well, a preference, and an emotional reaction to the unfamiliar, even a mild one. Is it just that the Veil is so damaged in this place that some of the Fade is leaking through and restoring a mild connection to their emotions, or is the Tranquility process selective of what emotions it removes? Either way, how would that even work? Is it possible that the Rite of Tranquility isn’t a full severing from the Fade, leaving a tiny link but nothing that can be significantly used? I suppose that must be the case, though that does put paid to the notion that it’s done to prevent demon possession because we just saw one of the Tranquil physically transformed into a demon and if demons can inhabit dead bodies they don’t necessarily require a form that’s connected to the Fade so--

Leliana: How are you talking research papers in the middle of ... well, this?

Jallira: I am trying to take my mind off the fact that the rooms and corridors I have lived in since childhood are swarmed with demons and littered with bodies of my dead compatriots? And that I’m having to kill Templars when that’s a Tranquil-making offense under normal circumstances and I’m a little bit conflicted about the fact that I can actually do so? Maybe?

Alistair: I suppose that’s fair. They did get a bit excessive, what with the ... flesh globs and all.

Jallira; Wynne: ..................................

Leliana: And that translates to “please stop talking”.

Jallira: ..........Niall!

Sloth Demon: OHAI.

Jallira: ............I should ... have insisted ... on a nap ... before we started... *thump*

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 64 - Bridges Built and Burned

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: description of a panic/anxiety attack Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read it on AO3 or start at Chapter 1

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Twelfth day of Haring, 9:31 Dragon

An air of calm followed Rosslyn over the following days as she settled into the limitations the mages put on her for her recovery. In the beginning, she chafed at not being allowed to do more, but after the first hour-long meeting with Cailan and his surviving advisors left her grey-faced and staring into thin air, she gave in to her convalescence with barely a grumble. Anora, at least, understood her need to be doing something, even if beneath the graceful manners and elegant pours of tea every conversation with the queen felt like a test, a way to pry out her inclinations and posture over the king’s good opinion. Perhaps the suspicion was merely a holdover from too many years of habit, a wariness for the woman who had been set up as her rival before she even left the schoolroom, but it didn’t make their talks any less exhausting.

Far more pleasant was the extra time she got to spend with Alistair. Charming as ever, he kept as much in her company as he could with all her duties loaded on his shoulders, taking her out onto the battlements or to see Cuno, or tucked up in the warmth of the library so they could go through paperwork together. The normalcy of it felt strange after almost a year of sleeping with only a thin sheet of canvas to keep out the weather, and the routine and bustle of an army camp to keep her from thinking too deeply of home. Now home was the reality, complete with the familiar comforts and faces she had left behind, even if the fit was slightly off, like a favourite shirt pulled out of shape after one too many launderings.

On the third day, she even managed to sneak away. It was good to have a little rebellion, despite her reluctance to go further than either seeing Lasan in the stables, or to the kennel to check on Cuno’s recovery. Her dog’s missing foreleg had done nothing to quell his excitement when she had first stepped into the runs, his fits of whistling sneezes setting all the others off in mad barking so they wouldn’t be left out. Only Alistair’s sharp check for her injuries had stopped the dog bowling her over, but he had pushed into her face nonetheless, anxious as a nursemaid as she buried her head against his neck and erupted into sobs. He was still wobbly on his feet and a little incontinent, thanks to the medicines mixed by the healers, but otherwise he had recovered well.

“A few more days, and the mages say they can start to wean him off their potions,” Gareth informed her now as they watched his eyelids droop from the latest dose.

“That’s good,” she answered, smiling. “Then he can come upstairs and stop howling the walls down every time I have to leave.”

“Daft sod. Uh – I mean –”

“You’re the one living with him,” Rosslyn allowed. “If anyone’s earned the right to call him that, it’s you.”

Gareth chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good lad, mind.”

“He is.”

On her way back to the keep, she turned right instead of left beyond the harness room, and followed the stairs down towards the cells claimed from the old Alamarri settlement on the hill. Guilt prodded her steps, and intrigue. A question that had bothered her since finding out how her dog had survived. The guards posted to the vestibule at the bottom snapped to attention when they saw her coming, though the nervous glance they shared betrayed more than simple surprise.

“I’m here to see the blood mage,” she announced, before they could ask, or tell her to go away. When they hesitated, as if she were no more than a mere servant wanting to satisfy her curiosity, she drew herself up and stared them down.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, that man is maleficar, he canna be trusted.”

“And with no templars in the keep –”

“Am I still the Teyrna of Highever, or has something changed in the last half an hour?” she demanded. “Your concern for my safety is noted, but you wear the Laurels and you will stand aside at my orders.”

Defeated, the guards shared another glance before the one with the keys led the way to the right cell. The weight of the rock pressed down on her, almost as heavy as the darkness crowding around the oil-burning lanterns set in alcoves in the wall.

“Leave me the light, and lock the door behind me,” she commanded.

“Aye, Your Ladyship.”

She held the lantern high as she stepped into the cell – the same one that so lately had housed Fergus, though she tried not to think about it, or the animalistic odour lingering in the stone. The blood mage huddled in the far corner, flinching away from the light as it fell on him, but not fast enough that her breath didn’t catch. He was thinner now, and the scruff on his face had lengthened into a thin beard, but the lank hair and pale skin were the same as they had been when she confronted Howe. Pushing the memories away, she looked further and noted the cloth wrapped around his manacles to stop him cutting himself on the sharp edges, though she doubted that would be much of a barrier to one determined to make themselves bleed. That he hadn’t resorted to those desperate measures counted for him – but then, perhaps he was just patient.

“Jowan,” she said, as the lock clicked behind her.

When he turned to her, he had to blink until his eyes adjusted to the light, and when he recognised her, trepidation stiffened every muscle in his body.

“Your – I mean, my lady?” He coughed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure how all these different title things work.”

“Your Ladyship,” she affirmed. “To you, anyway. I’m told you’re the one responsible for saving my dog’s life.”

A hasty, terrified nod.

“Then I owe you my thanks. He’s doing well, almost back to his old self.”

“I – I’m glad to hear it, Your Ladyship,” he managed.

Rosslyn let the silence stretch. As the moments passed under what Alistair called her general’s stare she watched the mage fidget and drop his gaze to the floor, covering his arms across his body as best he could. Good; if he were flustered, she would more easily spot a lie.

“I want to know why you did it,” she said at last.

“Uh…”

“Why didn’t you let him die when you already had a hand in the deaths of so many others?”

Jowan’s eyes flicked to hers in what might have been defiance, but it was gone too quickly to be sure. “I never wanted to kill anyone,” he confessed. “I only ever wanted to live free of the Circle. I don’t know if you have any idea what it was like there –”

“I saw what it became,” she replied, gently.

“That’s right. I heard about what Uldred did. He was the one who taught me about blood magic. If I’d been braver…” He swallowed. “But I was just an apprentice, and he was one of the senior enchanters – I knew they’d never believe me if I said anything, they’d just… All I wanted was to escape. I’m not that good at magic, I was never like Surana or Clement or Karyna, and there were always so many horror stories about the Harrowing, I knew they’d kill me or make me Tranquil for sure.” He seemed to realise he was speaking too quickly, and sighed to centre himself. “But I was caught trying to get into the phylactery chamber. I had no choice. I wanted to protect Lily, but she… I don’t know what they did to her.”

“Who’s Lily?” Rosslyn asked.

“I love her. But when I… Maker’s breath, she looked at me like I was a monster. The thought that she might have paid for my crime…”

She recognised the spiral he was about to fall into, had been there herself. Steady, she leaned into his eyeline and repeated her first question. “Why did you save my dog’s life?”

“Because it was the right thing to do,” he replied, looking up from his hands at last. “I was too afraid before, but you stood up to him, even after everything he said. Howe and Loghain threatened to hand me over to the templars if I didn’t do what they asked, but when I saw what you did, I couldn’t sit by anymore.” He straightened, and for the first time met her eye without hesitation. “That’s the truth. I’ve made so many mistakes, disappointed so many people – I wish I could go back and fix it. I don’t know if anything I do could ever make it right.”

With a sigh, Rosslyn lowered the lantern. “His Majesty has asked for my opinion on what should be done with you. As it stands, the templars are not in a position to take you back to the Circle, but nor can he just let you go.”

“I understand, Your Ladyship.”

“For my own part,” she went on, “I am grateful for what you did, but it wouldn’t be fair to weigh one life against the many more you’ve caused to suffer.”

At that, the mage slumped, though his expression lacked surprise. “I know it probably doesn’t mean anything, but I do wish I could go back and fix everything.” He licked his lips. “Thank you for coming to see me, anyway, for… giving me a chance to talk. It means a lot.”

“No decision has been made yet,” she told him, without quite knowing why.

He offered her a smile as she called for the guard, but it was thin and faded quickly. His eyes followed the swing of the door as it was opened, and as she ducked through back into the corridor, she didn’t look back. The second guard had followed his mate to watch her, and he saluted. The door slammed. She almost turned away, but something about his manner stopped her, a nervousness more sensed than seen, and while she couldn’t source it, it brought her notice to his posture, the way he stood not by the wall but in the middle of the corridor as if to herd her back the way she had come. Considering she had already escaped Jowan’s cell unscathed, it made little sense.

“What’s down there?” she asked, with a jut of her chin.

“No one.” The guard’s eyes flew wide. “That’s – nothing. I meant, ‘nothing’. Your Ladyship.”

She advanced on him, just a step. “Who is down there?”

“Uh… It’s really nothing to concern yourself with,” he tried again, but before she could squeeze anymore out of him, a dry, nasally voice trickled through the cracks in the stone walls and turned her blood to ice.

“Is that a visitor for little old me? Do hurry up, I’ve got a busy schedule.”

The guard tried to push in front of her. “Your –”

“Give me the keys,” she growled.

She didn’t even wait to be given them, instead snatched the ring out of the guard’s half-obedient hand, already marching forward. Her fingers shook. Disbelief raged through her blood. Her heart beat so loudly she didn’t hear the key when she turned it in the lock, but when the door swung open, with the light spilling through around her against the opposite wall, even that seemed to stop.

Howe’s face was obscured by dirt and a grey tangle of beard, layers of old bandages wrapped around his head crusted with blood on the left side, his skin saggy from lost weight, but the hooked nose and narrow, polecat eyes would be recognisable anywhere. It was like being stabbed again. She wanted to vomit.

The swine smirked at her. “Well, well, well. This is an unexpected pleasure.”

She tried to focus on his chains, his clothes, how the once-bright satin hung off him in tatters. “They found you.”

Her lungs wouldn’t work. How long had he been kept in the dungeon – under her feet? Why was he still alive? Why had nobody told her?

“I suppose it was too much to hope Loghain might have killed you,” he drawled, as if remarking about a small bet on a slow horse. “You’ve shown such an infuriating talent for survival – or maybe it’s just that so many people are willing to die in your place.” His eyes glittered. “Your father, your people, your dog –”

“You didn’t kill him,” she snapped. “He lives.”

“Oh? Pity.”

“What are you doing here?” Every word ground like glass on her tongue.

At this, Howe looked absolutely delighted. “Me?” he repeated. “I am here on the king’s invitation.”

“You’re a lopsided old man sitting in his own shit in a dungeon.” The wound in her side ached. She couldn’t stop shaking. “You have nothing left. And you’ll die a traitor’s death.”

“Will I?” he asked. “And what about you? You seem surprised to see me. Nobody told you I was here, did they? Not your crippled excuse for a brother, or the king, or even your dear princey-wincey. It must hurt, thinking you’re so important, so grown up, only to find those closest to you have so little regard for you. imagine not even telling you they’re secretly hiding your greatest enemy in your own keep!”

A pause, to let the realisation settle, but even though she knew what he was doing her feet were rooted to the stone and every barb stung and her mind stuck on the sight of him and it whisked away to what he had done, what he had wanted to do –

“They still consider you a child, just like your father when he sent you away. Do you want to know what his last words were? The look in his eyes when he realised I was the one who had brought him what he finally deserved?” He laughed. “And your mother. Do you want to know how long it took her to die? How many arrows –”

“ENOUGH!”

He fell silent, still smirking as if he weren’t manacled in a prison cell, as if this confrontation were a victory, and revulsion crawled so far up her throat she could no longer breathe. She reeled away from the door like a drunkard, vaguely aware of the guards calling her name. Her lantern slipped form nerveless fingers and smashed.

“If he speaks again, cut out his tongue.”

If she spoke the words out loud, she couldn’t tell. The only thought in her head was the need to leave, to run, never mind the ache in her side and the jumble of questions stirred up in her mind like wind-scattered leaves. The whos and hows and whens swirled before her eyes, until her legs buckled and a sharp pain in her knees found her halfway up the stairs to the keep. A sob lurched in her throat, caught only by the hand she slapped across her mouth. Tears came unbidden. She bit her lips together and forced her lungs to still against the heaving breaths they tried to gouge out of the air, to keep silent in case the soldiers heard her, in case they came looking.

It was the pain from her wound that finally calmed her weeping, the fact that every cut-off inhale sent a jagged line of fire from her ribs to her hip, but with it her mind was allowed to drift from the blank panic of needing to keep quiet, and a seed of thought sprouted in the dark. She hadn’t known about Howe’s capture, but someone had ordered the guards to keep watch. Someone had kept this information from her, ordered them to keep it from her. The spark of realisation set among her tremors like dry tinder and flared into real, scalding anger.

It had her body in its grip before her mind decided where to go, drove her only up, past a startled maid on her way from the kitchen, past Cailan and Anora arm in arm with only the most instinctive of obeisances, before she reached the second floor of the keep, her family’s private level, the pull of her wound worsening with every step but not enough to stop her.

“My lady, what –”

But she swept away again before Graela had time to finish her question or drop the linens being folded on the bed. The Cousland sword clinked as she plucked it from its corner in white-knuckled hands. She had carried it through battle and fire and the swell of the Waking Sea, and now she had only a few strides left until she reached her brother’s temporary room.

Amell, tending him, jumped away with a small shriek as Rosslyn kicked in the door. Fury took her to the bed, where Fergus hastily flung the covers over to hide the truth of his atrophied legs.

“Rosslyn, what –”

“This is yours,” she snarled, and flung the blade onto the mattress by his hand.

“Father’s sword?” He glanced from it, back to her. “I don’t understand –”

“I was going to talk to you about it,” she rushed. “About the title and who should have it and what we would do next – but why should I bother if you’ve already decided to shut me out of decisions that are mine to make by right!”

“Rosslyn –”

“I know Howe is here!” she thundered, and her lips bared in a feral smile as he winced. “You didn’t think to tell me you’d found the man who slaughtered our entire family?”

How dare he. How dare he take this from her. Her breath came in spurts, her nails biting into her palms, flesh washing hot and cold as if night and day were chasing over her skin.

“I didn’t want –”

“He’s sitting beneath us right now and you thought you could keep it from me? How long has he been there? How long have you been lying to me? Was it before I woke up, or after? Those soldiers down there were wearing the Blue, plain as day, and only one person could tell them to lie to my face. How could you –”

“Your Ladyship, your wound.” Amell started forward. “It would be best if you –”

“Get away from me.”

“Don’t snap at her,” Fergus chided, as if he had the right, then slumped. “How did you find out?”

“What does it matter when you didn’t tell me?” she cried. “You’re my brother! You should understand! What, do you think I’m still a child who should be kept away from the kitchen knives? While you were cringing away in that dungeon doing nothing I was out leading armies, fighting for our people’s freedom! I did everything expected of me and more to get back here! I retook this castle! And yet none of that means anything?”

“You were still recovering,” he ground out, but the excuse only made her anger flare hotter.

“I have hunted him for a year, I had to read report after report of everything he did, I saw what happened to Canavan and Gilmore, and Mother, and Father, and I led Highever’s army away and into war even though it was the last thing I wanted to do! And you, meanwhile, can’t even find the guts to walk ten steps to your own room! You’re a coward. How dare you make decisions for me? The monster responsible for everything we’ve been through has been locked away right beneath our feet and you’re just sat here as if you don’t even care!”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t care!” he roared, his own anger finally let loose. “He took everything from me – everything. I couldn’t lose you as well. We thought it best –”

But she pounced on that word like a jackal. “We?” she repeated. Spots danced in front of her eyes now that her battle rage was burning itself out. She clutched at her side, felt something wet seeping through the fabric of her dress, but his blanch turned her stomach more than the agony gritting her teeth.

“We wanted to protect you,” Fergus insisted.

“Alistair knows.”

Her legs crumpled. She had to catch herself on the bedpost, and in the confusion that followed, Amell’s hands pressed over hers with cool words of reassurance, a shoulder under her arm hoisting her up, her brother reaching for her from so far away – and him in the doorway, transfixed, horrified.

“Graela told me you were…”

She swallowed past the knot of tears gathering sharp at the back of her throat and turned to the enchanter. “I – I can’t breathe.”

“You’ve torn the muscle layers. Here –”

Alistair darted in to help as she staggered forwards on Amell’s arm, but she pierced him with such a glare he stopped short, mouth slack with a look of puppyish hurt that woke a vindictive squeeze of satisfaction in her chest. She vaguely heard him exchanging low, desperate words with Fergus as she limped back to her own room, a curse, and then tentative footsteps as she was eased down into a chair by the fire. Now that she had opportunity to notice, every tiny shift of her clothes over her reopened wound tugged at the edges like fishhooks.

“Rosslyn.”

“This isn’t your room,” she growled at him. Air hissed between her teeth. She couldn’t tell if it was the pain causing the sting at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Pushing down the discomfort she let her eyes fall on him, taking him in, hunched shoulders and hands wringing with the suppressed need to reach for her. “You’re sorry you were found out,” she corrected, slowly, with only the barest wobble in her voice before she turned her gaze to the hearth.

A pause, and then a sigh.

“Riley and half a squad of infantry brought him back two days ago. They found him with Loren and Mother Berit. It seems Loren decided favour with the Maker was worth more than his loyalty to the Crown.”

“And yet I didn’t hear a thing about it,” she replied. “You lied to me. To my face. Even though you knew what he meant to me.” The struggle to keep her voice level was one she was losing, but between the threatening tears and the words she had already hurled at Fergus, her throat ached as if she had swallowed smoke. And still her anger smouldered. “Ever since the battle you’ve treated me like I’m incapable of even standing on my own feet, like I’m a fool who can’t be trusted to drink out of a proper goblet. Fergus doesn’t surprise me, but you – How could you keep this from me?”

Alistair threw his hands up in exasperation. “Because I was afraid something like this would happen! Every time Howe turns up you get this – this intense focus and you stop caring about anything else. You push yourself, and you hurt yourself, and you get so blinded by the idea of vengeance you turn into someone I barely recognise!”

“I don’t turn into anyone!” she shot back, staggering upright once more.

“No, you should sit –”

She slapped his hand away. “This is me, and it’s not something that can be tucked away out of sight just because you find it distasteful. What do you think I was doing all those months you sat so cosily under that mountain? I killed people. I’ve lost count of how many, not to mention all the others that were sent to die on my orders. Why shouldn’t I seek vengeance?” she demanded. “Howe deserves to die. He deserves every ounce of suffering I can wring out of him.”

“There – that’s it right there!” he shot back. “You’re so focussed on how he hurt you, you can’t see how it’s twisting you into something exactly like him!”

“‘How he hurt me’?” Incredulous, she could only stare at him. “He ruined my life! Are you saying I shouldn’t be angry about everything he’s done?”

“This isn’t anger, this is blackness, and you’re letting it consume you.”

“He murdered my family!” she shouted. “He pretended to be my father’s friend for years and then he slaughtered him like an animal! Doesn’t it matter what he did to Cuno, to my people – what he was planning to do to me? He has caused so much pain and he deserves all of it back again –”

“And how would you do that?” Alistair challenged, in a voice like steel. “He’s one man – you can only kill him once.”

“I’d find a way – I will find a way to make it right. I let him go at West Roth and I have regretted it ever since!”

He drew back at that, as if she had struck him.

“I can’t do it again,” she promised. “I won’t.”

“And this isn’t a path I can see you walk down. I won’t watch you destroy yourself.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed the physical distance separating them. There was hurt in his eyes, but also a plea to a part of her still reeling from the blow of being lied to – that he had lied to her about the one thing she had wanted for almost a year – and it channelled her rage into something colder, harder, like the slow of a river freezing into winter ice.

“Then get out,” she said.

He stepped towards her instead. She looked away, stiff, shoulders straight, a dismissal she had learned in her time at court when pretending someone didn’t exist was the biggest insult of all.

“Damn your pride,” he spat, after a long moment of watching her. She followed the stomp of his boots to the doorway with her face still turned to the window, refusing to be cowed, and when he paused, she braced for whatever curses he would choose.

“You saved my life at West Roth, in case you didn’t remember. I hope you don’t regret that as well.”

And then he was gone, and the anger clutching at her heart unspooled, and when her breath came back it was the sharp, desperate gasp of a sob as she fell to her knees.

[pris-writing-blog]

New Beginnings

Summary: Sometimes, two people who would be perfect together are driven apart by tragic circumstances. Sometimes, they never see each other again. Sometimes, they meet again in the most unlikely of places. Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition

Pairing: Evelyn Amell and Cullen Rutherford

Word Count: 8.4 k

Warnings: PTSD, major character death, substance abuse.

A/N: I’m honestly surprised I actually wrote this, since my tastes tend to lean towards LGBT couples and characters. But the idea of Amell finding Cullen again during Inquisition just really spoke to me and inspired me to write this. I hope you all enjoy.

A diary recovered from Kinloch Hold after it is abandoned during the Mage Rebellion. Some pages are burned, torn out, or simply illegible. A page in the front states it is property of Evelyn Leola Amell.

Date: 9:23 Dragon, 20th of Harvestmere

The Revered Mother suggested I write in this journal. Stuff about my feelings and all that. I don’t know what I’m feeling though! I guess I feel scared, and lonely, and mad upset about leaving. I miss Mother and Father and the rest of the family. I remember mother crying as the Templars took me away. How is this supposed to make me feel better? I just feel worse now. I’m going to go lay down. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try burning this book, that’ll show the Mother.

Date: 9:23 Dragon, 23rd of Harvestmere

So I didn’t burn the book. I did put it away though, hid it under my pillow. I feel a bit better today. I made two friends! One’s name is Anders, a bit older than me, and he’s said he escaped once. He got caught though, obviously. He’s snarky and makes dumb jokes. I like him. Then there’s Jowan, he’s about my age. He’s real nervous, all jittery and easily spooked. But he’s nice and calming. So I guess I have friends now. I still miss Mother.

Date: 9:23 Dragon, 1st of Firstfall, Satinalia

This was the first Satinalia I ever spent away from home. I thought I would be sad, but today was a blast! There was a HUGE feast, with a whole bunch of different dishes than I’m used to. They were all so good, except for the soup. It was grey and tasted like… stuff? I didn’t like it. Anders tried to escape, and I helped! He had this idea to send my parents a gift, but it would really just be him in a barrel wrapped in pretty paper. But the Templars found him before he even got outside- how were we supposed to know they’d unwrap it themselves?

Date: 9:26 Dragon, 13th of Cloudreach

Anders told me today he “seeing” one of the older mages. When I asked what he meant, I regretted asking. I properly shouldn’t write it down, if the Mother found this she’d have me and Anders switched. But it has made me think… Anders wouldn’t say who he was with, but he said it was a man. If a man and a man can do that together, can a woman and a woman do it? Cecilia two bunks down is pretty, I think. I don’t think I want to do that with her, but it makes me feel better that what I feel isn’t too weird.

Date: 9:26 Dragon, 16th of Cloudreach

Anders did it! He really did it! Today when the Templars had us outside for exercise, Anders suddenly bolted off to the dock and jumped off the end! The Templars tried to go after him, but after Carrol almost drowned thanks to his armor, they had to try and take it off first before jumping in. That gave Anders enough of a head start to make it to shore and run off into the woods! He’s free! I just hope it lasts for him.

Date: 9:26 Dragon, 23rd of Cloudreach

It didn’t last. The Templars tracked Anders down and brought him back in shackles. I tried to run over to help him but Jowan held me back. He said I’d just get in trouble too. Knight-Commander Gregoir wanted to make Anders Tranquil. When he said that, Ander’s mentor- Karl I think his name is- yelled at Gregoir. I still don’t understand what becoming Tranquil means, but I know Owain and the other Tranquil creep me out. I don’t want Anders to be like that. First Enchanter Irving stood up for Anders, thankfully, but he agreed to have Anders go through with his harrowing tomorrow. I’m scared for him. Cecilia did her Harrowing last week and failed. I don’t know what happened to her, she just disappeared. I don’t pray to the Maker and Andraste as much as I should, but I’ll pray tonight for Anders.

Date: 9:26 Dragon, 24th of Cloudreach

Anders passed! He made it through his Harrowing. He was grinning like a maniac and his bragging was insufferable, but I’m just happy he’s okay. He’ll be moving up to the mage quarters later, but Jowan and I are going to give him a little party before he leaves. Well, a get together with some sweet bread I managed to swipe from the kitchen. But it’s enough for him that we said we’ll miss him. I wonder when my Harrowing will be.

Date: 9:28 Dragon, 25th of Haring

Damn the Templars, damn Gregoir, damn the whole bloody circle! I don’t care if anyone finds this journal anymore. I hope they do, so they’ll know I hate them all! They caught Anders after another one of his escape attempts. This time he gave him a YEAR OF SOLITARY CONFINEMENT THAT MEANS HE’S IN THE DUNGEONS FOR A YEAR

There is a line of scribbles below this, dark and sharp as if the writer had been stabbing the page with the ink quill.

When they said that, Jowan had to actually hold me back physically. I wanted to hurt Gregoir. I screamed things that made the Mother mad, but I didn’t care. You know what I remember most? Ander’s face as they took him away. He had cast one last smirk over his shoulder at me, but I could see it in his eyes: fear. Damn them all.

Date: 9:29 Dragon, 1st of Bloomingtide, Summerday

We got some new Templar recruits recently. One of them, I think his name is Cullen, he’s cute. Blonde locks and stubble just growing in. And hazel eyes I could lose myself in. But anyways he’s alright to look at, yeah. Couldn’t do anything with him anyway, he’s a Templar and I’m a mage. It could never work. But I keep catching him glancing at me. Today in the Summerday festivities I was dressed in a pretty white dress like all the other young girls and I caught Cullen’s eye. I’ve never seen a face go so red so quickly! And he was dressed in a fine white tunic and pants, I’ll admit my face heated when I wondered what he’d look like with just the tunic. Of course, the mood was ruined when the Mother started reciting the Chant and the lessons. Oh Maker, why must you get in the way of things?

Date: 9:29 Dragon, 31st of Haring

Anders was released today. I didn’t even get a chance to say hello or goodbye before he disappeared again. The Templars are baffled, but they’re sure they’ll find them. I hope they're wrong, for Anders’s sake. I’m not mad at them anymore, I think. I understand their purpose. I just wish we had a choice. I don’t mind the Circle much, I’ve come into my magic well because of it. But for people like Anders, who value freedom more than anything, this place is a prison. It shouldn’t be like that. I’ve also spoken some more with Cullen. He’s so shy and nervous around me, as if just talking to a mage is prohibited. I asked where he was from, about his family, and he asked me the same. I just like talking with him now. I think I like him. Oh sweet Andraste I’m in trouble.

Date: 9:30 Dragon, 24th of August

My Harrowing is tomorrow! I’m scared and nervous and excited all at once. I still don’t know what they do to test you, I mean there are rumors but one can never trust those, so I am a tad worried about that. But I am confident in myself and my skills and I just know I’ll pass. Jowan has been more worried than usual, he’s upset that I’m going through my Harrowing before him, even though he’s older, but I’m sure he’s just being paranoid. One thing has made me a tad scared though: I saw Cullen earlier and saw fear in his eyes. Why was he scared when he looked at me? It almost looked like pity.

Date: 9:30 Dragon, 26th of August

I never did get to write about what happened yesterday. Too much happened. I suppose I should sort it out here. I went to my Harrowing. They pitted me against a demon. An actual Maker-forsaken demon. No wonder Cullen was scared. Apparently, if I had failed and became an Abomination, he was to be the one to kill me. I was terrified, but I passed. When I woke up, Jowan congratulated me, but still seemed nervous. I found out why later. Apparently, the First Enchanter had agreed to make Jowan Tranquil. Something about him being too weak to resist temptation or some other nonsense. He and his lover, Sister Lily, asked me to help them retrieve Jowan’s phylactery and destroy it, so they could escape without fearing the Templars finding them. And damn me to the Void, but I did it. I helped him. I believed him when he said he wasn’t a blood mage. And what did he do when he was backed into a corner like the rat he is? He used his blood to attack the Knight-Commander and escape. And now Lily is gone off to Aeonar- Maker watch over her- and I’m to be made Tranquil after the others return from Ostagar. Damn you Jowan. This is all your fault.

Date: 9:31 Dragon, 5th of Wintermarch

Once again, the Mother suggested I write down my thoughts to soothe my soul. Oh Mother, essays of my writing couldn’t soothe my soul. I don’t even know where to begin. I suppose at the start of this nightmare. I didn’t know it, but the mages and Templars sent to Ostagar returned, or at least the ones who survived. What happened at Ostagar was a tragedy, Teyrn Loghain quit the field and left the Grey Wardens and King Maric to die, along with almost all of their army. Uldred attempted to have the Circle side with Loghain, spinning a tale of lies for them. But Wynne countered him, exposing Loghain and Uldred for the traitors they were. What happened next, no one could have seen coming. In a meeting of the Enchanters, Uldred and a number of other mages turned to blood magic and demon summoning to free themselves. It went about as well as you’d expect. Almost half of the Circle perished in the fight. I barely survived myself. Still locked in the dungeon, I had to fight off demons and abominations while trapped in my cell. But I did it, I survived. Barely; I would have died of starvation if I hadn’t started screaming bloody murder. Apparently, the Templars had assumed me dead. The Hero of Ferelden saved us. Who’d have thought a boy from the Alienage, a bastard prince, an assassin, and an apostate could clear out an entire tower of abominations and demons? Sounds like a bad joke. After it was all over and they were patching me up, I saw Cullen. I didn’t even recognize him at first. He used to be so kind and shy and good and now- he’s a shell of who he was. It’s as though someone poisoned him with hate and fear. When I ran up to him to hug him he drew his sword at me, shouting to stay away or else. I was confused at first. I asked him, “Cullen, it’s me. What’s wrong?”

And he said- no, he growled, “What’s wrong is you. You mages, sick and vile and evil. All of you.”

It hurt. A lot more than I want to admit. But I said to him, “Cullen, you can’t possibly mean that. What about… I thought we-”

He cut me off, though, to shout, “There is nothing between us, mage! An ill-advised infatuation of a foolish boy. I know better now, and pray the Maker will forgive my sin.”

A sin. He called our feelings a sin. Well that was just the rotten cherry on the pile of the shit sundae wasn’t it? I yelled at him, I don’t remember what. It dissolved into a screaming match before others came to separate us. We avoided each other after that. And then he left; went off to Kirkwall, city of Templars. And damn me, but I still

No. I won’t say that, I won’t even write that. It and he are best left forgotten. After the tragedy, we were recruited by the Hero of Ferelden to fight in the Blight. I went to Denerim, saw the Darkspawn horde. It wasn’t as terrifying as what I saw during those weeks I spent trapped, assailed by monsters both human and demon made. And now it’s over. The Blight is ended and the Circle is returning to an uneasy normal. It was decided I would not be made Tranquil, seeing as how they would need as many Enchanters as possible to rebuild. Yay. The future awaits us. Let’s see what it brings.

Date: Dragon 9:37, 28th of Drakonis

Well, I found out what happened to Anders. He blew up a fucking Chantry! Words cannot express the emotions I feel about him and that, so I won’t try to write them. I’m more concerned about the Templar’s response. Mad Meredith invoked the bloody Rite of Annulment on the entire Circle, even though a single apostate caused the explosion. Thousands were killed in the chaos, mages, templars, and civilians alike. Thankfully, the Champion stopped the Knight-Commander. Apparently, I’m related to him! I heard Cullen was It was a mess, all of it. And now the Templars here are cracking down more and more. I heard there will be almost half of the contingent at the Enchanter meeting tomorrow. Anders, you really have turned the world on its head.

Date: Dragon 9:37, 29th of Drakonis

Well, Irving has fan-fucking-tastic timing. He has named me his successor. I suppose I am a good candidate, smart, skilled, not ancient. But in all seriousness, I am honored. I hope I can do well in my position. I do feel as though he’s just passed me the burning tongs though. It will be difficult to lead us through this, but I will do it, I swear to the Maker, I will lead my people through the storm.

Date: Dragon 9:37, 8th of Solace

And so we remain tied to the Chantry. I was attempted to agree with the Libertarians, but Wynne’s speech moved me. So we will remain, for a time. I returned from the Conclave earlier today and I am glad to be home. There seems to be a tangible nervous energy in the air outside, but here at least, we are safe. But the Templars… their gaze is troubling to me. As though they looking at spirits and demons instead of men and women. I pray they do not soon treat us as they see us.

Date: Dragon 9:39, 2nd of Guardian

Maker help us all. They disbanded the college. The Divine was attacked. Seekers everywhere. The world is on the brink of chaos, I can sense it. And now this, a letter from Wynne, begging me to come to Val Royeaux. There is to be a conclave of First Enchanters to discuss the finding of a cure for Tranquility. I am shocked beyond belief that such a thing exists, as well as overjoyed. But more than anything, I am scared. I am scared for my Circle, my family, and all mages across Thedas. A reckoning is about to come. And I fear the world is not ready for what it will bring.

This is the end of the diary entries. After the conclave dissolved into war, the mages fled to Andoral’s Reach. Kinloch Hold now stands empty, with accounts such as this left to be forgotten.

Find the rest of the story on my ao3 here!

[runespoor7]

Iris’ Broken Circle: the end

She ends up letting the desire demon and her bewitched Templar go, because I managed to convince myself I don't have any other Warden that might do that (...*side-eyes Mahariel anyway*), and you can let them go by saying the situation they're in is intriguing, rather than because you're touched by the love story.

Now, on to the Fade!

- fourth time playing it (or maybe fifth? I don't remember if I'd gone so far with Aeducan the first time, before I decided I wanted to play it otherwise) if I count the time I was just watching Dem play. I still love it, the gameplay is so different from the rest of the game, and I always love “voyages to the centre of the mind”. This time, I had Morrigan and Zevran with me as opposed to... Alistair and Leliana... so that might have helped with my impression that I was doing new things. Iris is also the first mage I'm playing through the Fade, and Mana Clash makes short work of a lot of things. Golems are huge threats, but aside from that...

- the entry vision: it's a given that for a lot of PC it's not going to be much their characters wish for (aside from the assurance that the Blight is over), but in Iris' case it was almost a total misfire. It wasn't more of a misfire than it was with Tabris, but...”You've been at Weisshaupt for some time now/The Gray Wardens shall be keepers of history. We shall tell tales […] of a more tumultuous time, that others may rejoice in knowing that that time is past./Can you not be content with the peace I offer” is pretty much guaranteed Iris kryptonite. What about the travels. What about the thrills??

- upon meeting Niall, I learnt that Iris had decided he's a demon. Apparently her rule for the Fade is “if it's not me, it's a trick”. Not that she minds: if it's not her, it means she can trick it, or negotiate with it, or otherwise deal with it, as the case may be. But still, as far as she's concerned, Niall is Fake!Niall.

- after running around trying on four other shapes (it is pretty cool, she's tempted to ask Morrigan for how to do it), she finally stumbles into... Zevran's nightmare.

- At this point I note that Zevran's mind is casting two Dalish elves in the roles of his Crow torturers, which reminds me: canon/early canon said that Dalish are considered adults after they've earned their vallaslin. Which involves enduring the tattooing without crying out. If you do, you're considered immature, and the Keeper stops; better luck in a few months! I remember fans wondering why we never saw people with half-finished vallaslin (there's a Doylist answer, but let's assume for a moment the devs would make the assets for a background NPC), and now I look at Zevran, with his tattoo on half his face, and with his story that he'd fled to join the Dalish once but the reality didn't live up to his expectations, and with his mind deciding Dalish would stand in for the Crows, and I wonder.

(in case you're wondering, Zevran's tattoo doesn't look that much like a DA:O vallaslin, however unfinished, unless you assume that different clans have their own takes on each vallaslin – which seems much more likely to me than assuming they're all using the same without regional variants! If we're admitting variants, based on the available designs, Zevran's tat could be part of a vallaslin of: June, Dirthamen, or Andruil. I feel Andruil would be a good design for Zevran, perhaps even the best suited to him with Falon'Din. But if Zevran was ditching the Crows, would he have stuck to an identity as a hunter? It's less unlikely than “friend of the dead”, probably.)

- she still gets Fade!Zevran out of there. (Me, I note that Zevran's first reaction being “but you're not supposed to be here!” when the Warden says something is incredibly pleasing to my shipping Iris/Zevran.) Then Fade!Zevran  starts to disappear and she reaches out, and then he's gone and she finds herself a bit nonplussed as she puts her arm down and wonders if that Zevran was real or not. Probably real. The nightmare held similarities to her own entry vision in, it felt like an illusion meant to keep Zevran trapped. She remains staring at the rack for a minute after Fade!Zevran's disappeared.

- then she finds Morrigan, and Morrigan is-- oh, Iris cannot imagine a demon impersonating Morrigan with such accuracy. It's the real Morrigan, and she's as aware of Fake!Flemeth being a fake and she in the Fade that Iris has been for a while now. She's also exceedingly annoyed with the proceedings, both the interactions with the spirit, and her subsequent disappearing, in a manner that I-the-player finds absolutely hilarious. (Not related: I note that Fake!Flemeth slaps Morrigan for not showing respect, and Morrigan says “there, that's more like it!”. I assume it's because Fake!Flemeth's attempts at cloyingness were even faker than this, but I don't think I'll take it for meaning Flemeth was physically abusive with Morrigan, especially about “respect”. I can imagine Flemeth hitting Morrigan when she'd returned with her mirror, though.)

- Wynne's nightmare is so very very creepy. The part where the dead apprentice speaks and asks her to stay with them in the embrace of the earth. Iris thought that was creeeeepy, and that's not a reaction she has very often. Connor was grotesque; Amalia's fascination with the talking cat was disquieting and kind of creepy; dead apprentice begging their teacher to join them in death? Creeeeeeeepy.

Wynne says she's always had an affinity for the Fade, and Iris' gut reaction was to think that she, Iris, really doesn't, but she's had to pause her reaction. She does find navigating the Fade easy, or at least... kind of pleasant. She can obtain what she wants from its inhabitants. Isn't that having an affinity, too? It's like since her Harrowing, and with the multiple opportunities she's had, she's good at this. Before, most of what she knew about the Fade came lectures on the dangers of the Fade and assigned readings. They made it sound so boring. And it was never practical, of course, so it was just... endless lecturing... no wonder she'd liked spellcasting better. Making things go boom = much more fun! And even so they had to go oh so slowly. Again, no wonder Iris had to try things on her own. ...despite Jowan's fear that she would get in trouble. She was careful, though, partly to humor him and partly because she knew better, she's always known better. So very often she had to be content with imagining how her spell would go if she cast it like so and so, as her testing time was always limited. So even on her own, it was slow, she had to hide, and then sometimes she had to come up with a clever lie on the spot, when she was just a little too good at something they weren't supposed to have studied yet. ...Until finally Irving took her under his wing.

- to truly understand how easy playing as Iris made soloing the bosses, you need to remember that three of the four bosses are magic-based (demons and such), so Mana Clash does them in. And the last boss is blocked behing a Massive Door, so you can just cast Tempests and Shocks and Cones of Cold until he dies, without ever opening the door.

- Iris is almost entirely lacking in empathy regarding Niall, to an extent that I find surprising even for her. She finds him whiny. She talks the talk of saying right-ish things because he's dying, but she's got things to be doing here. (“can't he die any faster” - not an actual thing she's thinking but the gist) Up to the point where he starts talking about his mother, and how she used to tell him, before the Circle, that he was meant for greatness, greater than their ancestors ever dreamt of, and then Iris snaps. “Are you done reminiscing?”

Then we're out of the Fade again, and then we meet Cullen.

...yep, so Cullen is pretty lucky there's no option to fight and kill him, because I wouldn't do it as he's a returning character, but I would sure need finagling to ensure Iris doesn't. If Iris wanted “to guarantee that no abominations […] live”, she'd start with him. Only way to be sure, right? How long did he spend with only blood mages and demons for company, how is he any less a risk as the others up there? He as good as admitted to demons tempting him and showing him things he wanted, right?

On the bright side, Zevran comments on Cullen revealing that he has a crush on Amell. (“Someone was quite the little heartbreaker when they were an apprentice. My, my.” I am playing the perfect character for this, I am so satisfied.) On the less bright side, it's actually less rewarding than what Iris thought – she thought it was... she basically thought she was exploiting a crush and Cullen being very much a templar apprentice*, see. If it turns out that Cullen was in love with her, well, suddenly, nothing she did mattered. It wasn't that she was good at manipulation, it was just that he'd fabricated something made-up in his head.

*I would love to get why there where only male templars in Kinloch Hoch. Doylist explanation is that Bioware decided it shouldn't be gendered after the game was out, but I want a Watsonian explanation... ;_; are we supposed to imagine there are also female templars in Kinloch Hoch? ...probably, actually. (;_; it's very hard given what we see in Broken Circle) See Templar lady chasing Anders. Or maybe Greagoir sends templar ladies on the roads and keeps only guys standing watch on the actual Tower. Maybe because it's supposed to keep down the risk of fraternization?

But on the other hand, it means that when Cullen's going off the deep end in Kirkwall, Iris can look back at her past self and kick herself for not making more of an effort to put him down when she could have had the opportunity! (the problem was Wynne.)(chances are Iris never will, but you never know, right?)

- the convo with Uldred is so different from every other confrontation with Uldred I ever made! There's an option to say “I suppose we are similar, in some ways” unprompted which I don't remember seeing before – it's probably because Iris is a blood mage – and I hastened to take it. I like that I was able to play this confrontation in an IC manner, that was pretty fun, from Iris saying “of course [some mages] are [stubbornly resisting you]! You're trying to destroy their lives!” to “No, I think it is you that should serve me” (that latter was mostly because she got a kick out of saying it, but you never know with demons). At the very end of the fight, Zevran fell, and Iris had no choice but to turn to fueling her last couple of spells with her own blood, so that was something. When Uldred addressed Irving to tell him she was there, she suddenly wondered if Uldred was going to tell Irving she was a blood mage, she knows Uldred could tell.

- Iris' feelings about Irving are complicated and so better shoved in a drawer in the darkest corner of her mind and sealed.

- ...she does have the most inappropriate moment of glee when Irving says “curse whoever insisted the Circle be built in a tower.” Ha, take that, Alistair! ...and then she immediately chides herself because that's Irving making a joke, and being mentally friendly with Irving is no-no.

- and then it's back to Greagoir and Iris wishing she got Cullen killed, and then Iris wondering if Greagoir didn't get stealth possessed or something because he thanks her and tells her she's proven herself to be a friend of both the Circle and the templars, and Iris has never been the friend of either of the two one day in her life and if she could drown all the people who'd talked about killing the mages in the Tower she'd do it in an instant and not feel a hint of remorse?

- I the player am not shipping Irving/Greagoir any less than usual but I think Iris has big enough blinders about both of them not to think about it rn. I think she considered it when she was younger, and now their interactions are just their interactions. It's not something worth analyzing whether they're fucking or not, it's just business as usual. It could come up at some point if Zevran asks her about her life or that return to the Circle or if she ever finds it in her to open up about how complicated her feelings about Irving have gotten.

The complicated feelings about Irving that Iris is totally not having aren't getting any less complicated by the convo with Irving himself. “I am glad you arrived when you did. It's almost as though the Maker Himself sent you.” So she's going to answer that as neutrally as she can, because no feelings, feelings are bad. “The Blight drove me here to seek aid.”

Holy shit I had forgotten you can turn down Wynne's offer to join. ...That's... a little bit tempting, because blood magic. But Iris isn't a Circle mage anymore, Grey Wardens aren't bound by the Circle's rules, and there is a Blight to be won.

[feynites]

Vivienne is such a complicated character.

Like, here you have this woman who has heard for her entire life that she is dangerous. That’s one consistent thing which almost all mages, whether they’re born to a noble family in Tevinter or peasants in the Anderfels or traders in Rivain, are told. Even Dalish and Avvar mages get this message to some extent. You’re a mage - you’re dangerous.

And especially for Circle mages, being dangerous is expected to eclipse everything else about you. The Circle requires a phenomenal balancing act from people. If you’re not good enough at magic, there’s a chance you won’t even be deemed capable of taking your Harrowing, and you’ll just be made Tranquil. This was what prompted Jowan to start using blood magic, in fact - if you go through Irving’s notes in the Circle Tower, you will discover that, in order to meet certain quotas for how many Tranquil the tower has and to maintain the status quo (wherein mages never forget who is holding their leash), the head enchanters single out mages who aren’t talented enough to profit the Circle and chantry as Harrowed mages, and they are basically set up. Instructors warn that they’re not meeting their skill requirements, temptation is offered in the form of books or tomes that provide illegal knowledge, and if the mage takes the bait, all they have to do is slip up. Then the templars move in, no one can really argue the point because blood magic is considered both illegal and immoral, and no one has to worry that Owain is getting too old to carry down the higher boxes in the store rooms anymore.

This is the kind of atmosphere in a good Circle, too. If you can’t prove that your magic would be a profitable commodity for the chantry, then you start to look like dead weight - or the potential materials for a docile labourer, who will just work and work until told to stop, and never offer up protest or a potential lack of compliance.

But, if you’re too powerful or talented, you become worrying for other reasons. A skilled mage can make a lot of coin, healing and entertaining nobles who can afford to pay for the expense, or serving in a military capacity. Powerful mages are also more likely to gain the kind of worldliness and mobility that would enable them to act upon any revolutionary impulses they might have, though, and can threaten the templar’s authority by challenging their ability to pose a physical threat. Again, if we go back to DA:O, Jowan was perfectly set up to be branded a blood mage and made Tranquil for his transgressions. But he was singled out, most likely, for being the least adept among his peers - that didn’t necessarily mean he was actually that bad at magic. And he proved to be adept enough at blood magic itself that the plan blew up in Irving and Greagoir’s faces when he successfully disrupted the templars enough to make a run for it.

The downside for the chantry in making sure templars are indoctrinated to fear mages’ power is that, on the instances when they’re actually called to fight, they do seem to hesitate an awful lot. Kinloch Hold saw the supposed anti-mage elite barricading themselves into the front entryway while the main force opposing Uldred was actually made up of mages; DA2 saw Hawke cleaning up the majority of magical incidents, while Meredith’s goons mostly just bullied the already-legal-and-complacent mages within the Gallows, or else occasionally ventured off to things like torture Dalish kids on Sundermount.

So, the tightrope which mages have to walk. If you’re too weak, you’ll be targeted for Tranquility. If you’re too strong and not compliant enough, you might actually scare the Templars, and face the same treatment. And if you’re just middle-of-the-road, you can probably get by with only the standard danger in your life - but you’ll also probably never venture far from the Circle’s walls, unless some disaster or another calls for all mages on deck, like the Blight.

That’s a pretty grim prospect, overall. Tranquility hanging like a blade on both sides of the accepted skill range, and lifelong imprisonment nestled securely in the middle.

But now we have Vivienne, and unlike... pretty much all of the Circle mages we’ve met before her, Viv has figured out how to navigate the very narrow space left open to her, and actually succeed. She’s skilled enough at magic that no one doubts her prowess, and anyone who tries to tempt her - demon or scheming enchanter or templar alike - is going to be faced with nothing but a firm denial. I think that was probably so essential to her initial survival among Orlais’ cutthroat Circle politics that it more than explains how unnerved she is by the likes of Cole. Tolerance of things that are even remotely questionable by chantry standards is evidence of ‘corruption’, and that could be used to condemn her, or halt her progress. For Vivienne to succeed in the environment she was brought up in, she had to be skilled, and there had to be no question that her skills came from purely acceptable schools of magic. Anything else could be ammunition for rivals, or an excuse for the templars.

Of course, such things could still be manufactured, if anyone had a sufficient reason to frame her. So Vivienne not only had to be squeaky clean, she also had to make herself a vastly preferable mage for the positions she aspired to than any other candidate. How does she do this? By cultivating the reputation required in order to alleviate any and all suspicion that she would be reckless, that she would challenge templar or chantry authority, or that she might use any freedoms granted to her to that end. The kinds of mages who leave Val Royeaux’s Circle to go and entertain the nobility, are almost certainly the kinds of mages who say things like ‘templars are a necessary precaution’. 

They’re also the kinds of mages who can be charming, and entertaining, and make nobles feel good about themselves. They’re likely full of assurances. ‘Of course Circle life isn’t perfect, but it’s hardly a prison. There are opportunities for those who have the right temperament, the right mindset, to go further in life than they otherwise would have. Why, just look at me - my family wasn’t rich. If not for the Circle and my magic, I would hardly be standing in the greatest city in all of Thedas, speaking to some of the most powerful people in the world’. Vivienne went from Circle politics to Orlesian politics, and those are both environments where the truth is something that people will use to destroy you, trust is a fool’s gambit, and you are constantly surrounded by people who want you dead.

But, what really gets me about Vivienne, is that she’s compassionate. And it’s funny because I don’t think she wants to restore the status quo to the Circles because she doesn’t believe she could hang onto her power and influence without it - although I do think she considers the prospect very daunting. I think she’s a compassionate pessimist. She sees the worst possible outcomes in any situation as the most likely. No guaranteed, but certainly most likely. She doesn’t want a war, in that case, because if you look at the Circle’s revolution from a pessimistic angle, the most probable outcomes are either ‘a bunch of people die, and then everything goes back to Square One anyway’ or ‘a bunch of people die, and then Southern Thedas becomes like Tevinter’. The rebellion early on already causes a lot of death, and destruction, and leads to things like the mass kill of Tranquil mages for nefarious purposes. Vivienne genuinely hates this.

Now, mages and Tranquil were already suffering under the existing system - that’s kind of the whole point of the rebellion. But it’s understandable that Vivienne herself has moved far enough away from Circle life, and is accustomed enough to those kinds of horrors, that I don’t think she’s considering the factor of ‘people were already suffering and dying, they were just doing it more quietly and where fewer people could see’. And that makes sense, to me, because people are often expected to just overlook certain kinds of suffering as inevitable. Since she was taken to the Circle, Vivienne has learned that magic is a threat, and I think that’s also why she uses so many ‘villainess’ trappings, despite not being in any way villainous. She has had to balance the perception of her - and all mages - as inherently dangerous, inherently threatening, with the need to seem skillfully dangerous (because if magic is dangerous and being talented in it is still the only way to get ahead, what else can she be?), and also totally reasonable, and not at all inclined to step out of line.

Like. Holy shit. No wonder she and Solas are the best companions at understanding how stressful being Inquisitor probably is.

But back to the matter of her compassion, I think explains a lot about how Vivienne wants to go about things. Because she does want to shift the balance of power between mages and templars, but she wants to do it in a way that’s virtually unnoticeable to the general public. She wants to keep the templars, and the Circle, and the same titles and systems for the most part. But she wants to utterly nerf the templars’ behind-the-scenes authority, and hand it over to the enchanters instead. She’s aware that the majority of people in the south have no clue what goes on in the Circles, and she wants to turn that to her advantage, to assuage hysteria and panic by providing them the  balm of ‘no look see everything you know is entirely back to normal, here are the mages in their towers, here are the templars in their shiny armour, you just go back to planting turnips or whatever you were doing in your village’, and then just totally upend things in a way that even most nobles probably wouldn’t have to pay attention to.

Of course, to do that, she also needs to keep appearances just right. There can’t be other factions of mages sprouting up, because that will destroy the impression of chantry authority over them. And ultimately, I don’t think her plan would really work, because the system is too entrenched in favouring the templars and has too many inherent flaws - I don’t think you can keep the presentation of it, and change the back room dealings, and actually solve Thedas’ issue with mages. But you could make the every day lives of mages already in the Circle much better, and as with Orsino, I think Vivienne has prioritized that. She doesn’t want to see Bill-the-Mage-Who-Lights-Chantry-Candles or Bess-the-Tranquil-Shop-Assistant die in a bloody conflict, and her approach is actually better than a full-out revolution for preventing that.

So that’s really interesting to me, because I think one of the prevailing ideas about her is that her ambition is throwing other mages under the bus - that she wants to preserve the status quo because this is the system she’s mastered. But, while that might be part of it, I don’t think it’s the whole picture for her. She wants people to be safe. She wants to turn the templars into a pretence. She can’t escape the lesson she’s spent her whole life both learning and proving, which is that magic is a thing worth fearing. She’s very aware of just how precarious her own position is, all this while, not only in terms of this one event but also with regards to the future. A failed rebellion could spell her doom, signing on with the Inquisition is a gamble, she’s spent her whole life having to be charming, beautiful, approachable, formidable, to restrain her anger, but to rebuke anyone who tries to treat her as a doormat in ways that deter repeat offences without also inviting retribution onto herself. She’s masterful at dancing on the head of a pin, but it’s also brutally unfair that she has to. And one can only wonder what kinds of things she’d be doing in Thedas if she didn’t have to devote 50% of her energy to not being killed at any given moment, or rather, if she hadn’t had to spend her whole life doing that.