vintra-lavellan

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I'm not ready to let go.

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When a Cousland who romanced Leliana agrees to become Alistair's queen.

Original video by FluffyNinjaLlama

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Codex Entry: The Grey Queen

amazing art by @artist-rat

As the youngest child of the Teryn and Teryna of Highever, Elthea Cousland had an upbringing befitting any child of noble stature. While her tutors were impressed with her quick wit and grasp of diplomacy, the Hero of Fereldan also excelled with the sword and shield. Although the Teryna didn't want her daughter learning such things, the girl begged and pleaded with her older brother to teach her what he'd learnt in his lessons, and was insistent enough that the Teryn relented and allowed her to be tutored alongside Ser Gilmore. The two became quick friends and close confidants, a friendship that carried on into adulthood.

In 9:30 Dragon, Arl Rendorn Howe's men attacked Castle Cousland while the troops were marching to Ostagar with her older brother. With the rest of her family murdered, Elthea promised her father she'd flee with Warden Commander Duncan and ensure the Cousland name lived on. However, her new place of belonging was short lived, as the Grey Wardens and King Cailan were betrayed at Ostagar and all but wiped out.

In her efforts to gather allies to fight back the Blight, Elthea was known for her persuasiveness and compassion when dealing with others, always willing to give in return for their assistance despite the treaties compelling them to help anyway.

Despite her misgivings, Thea agreed to Morrigan's ritual in order to protect Fereldan's king if she and Riordan were to fall before reaching the Archdemon.

After the coronation of her beloved, Elthea's worries about their future were finally put to rest as King Alistair proposed, and they were wed six months later. Though there were some murmurings about two grey wardens on the throne of Fereldan, no one could deny how in love the couple appeared to be. They ruled together with fairness and thought for the people of their country until Queen Elthea disappeared in the night, leaving her husband to rule alone. Rumors amongst the palace servants say that wherever she is, the Queen still writes to her beloved frequently, and he is the only one who knows of her whereabouts and what took her away from the palace to begin with.

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point of no return

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Just origins thoughts...stewing stewing since I just finished playing

As a Tabris, I can stomach putting Alistair on the throne out of duty, but I cannot stomach coercing him into the Dark Ritual with Morrigan. Why? She cannot bring herself to ask someone to exchange sex for their life. It is the very essence of the Tabris origin.

Tabris understands the need to put a compassionate man on the throne, one who might be able to show a kinder world for her people especially after the threat of slavery she experienced under the status quo of Loghain's type of people—so even if it hurts, even if she loses the love of her life, if it means hope for the People and for the rest of Ferelden, it might be worth it.

But she cannot force Alistair into the Dark Ritual. Tabris' greatest regret is the inability to save the women of her community, to save Shianni from being raped, even if she knows that if they all lie flat and let it happen they would all survive. The essence of all Tabrises is that theyknow it would be easier, but they fight anyway.

At the point at which Morrigan suggests the Dark Ritual, a Tabris in love with Alistair, has, frankly, suffered too much—the rape of Shianni, the broodmothers, her community being enslaved, if she makes Alistair king (which I did) she will get dumped, watch him get arranged to Anora, and/or she will allow herself to be a mistress. She has heard of what must be done to slay an Archdemon. She is ready to die, and she cannot ask of Alistair to sleep with another woman against his will—it would be a betrayal of who she is and how she began her journey.

So she says no to Morrigan, marches onto Fort Drakon, ready to kill the Archdemon herself and end her suffering content, knowing the Blight will end, Alistair will make a good king, and he will move on and find happiness with his queen. Life might be better for the elves.

But of course, Alistair makes the sacrifice himself, because he loves her. It is her deep desire to protect someone from the intrusive horror of nonconsensual sex that throws her on the path of destiny—but leads to the loss of her greatest love.

A delicious, heartbreaking tragedy.

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NO ONE TOLD ME IF U

ROMANCE ALISTAIR

AND TURN DOWN MORRIGAN

ALISTAIR MAKES THE FINAL SACRIFICE

WOW. Wow. Playing origins blind is....I don't even have words I'm just distraught

Playing da origins for the first time (as a inquisition->veilguard girlie so i headcanon my tabris has prophecies and visions of the future)

i want to make alistair king but his Ultimate Lack of Rizz has bewitched my tabris Body and Soul unfortunately even before meeting zevran

it is still early-ish game, theyre still rallying the factions in the treaty...but somehow my darling tabris gets the vibes that things with a bastard prince will not end well with a current political power vacuum

after her first marriage-related trauma, i dont know if i want to subject her to it again D :

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"Darkspawn were created by mankind's second sin: pride."

Just an Origins quote from a Chantry mother in Denerim bludgeoning me over the head 15 years later.

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【ｃｏｒｅ　ｍｅｍｏｒｙ】 a tiny spinoff of this mini series

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For any of you Solavellan and/or Solas/Mythal fans looking to replay Origins, might I recommend doing a male!cityelf!rogue!warden who romances Morrigan?

In the city elf origin, assuming you free the elven slave, you are rewarded with the Fang, a dagger passed down in your family with the following description:

Gotta love the cyclical nature this gives the overarching story.

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I never really liked how my Solavellan prose-poem Like Teeth Against His Heart looked when formatted on tumblr, and since the @solamancyzine zine itself is no longer available for sale digitally or physically, I thought it'd be nice to upload how it appeared on the pages itself instead here as a record. When I was writing it part of the fun/challenge was making sure the lines would fit in booklet spacing without too many awkward gaps, or overflowing.

since there's too much to put in the alt text per image here for accessibility: here's the prior tumblr upload (as text not images) but it's slightly better on AO3 though... it still sucks to view on phone there. that is the danger of poetry with special alignment I guess!

The layout design & other zine in-line art was done by Patricia Vi/kiwipon :)

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one-shot tag game

Thank you @theluckywizard for the tag!! i finished an Alistair/Amell one-shot in the summer, and I was quite happy to figure out how to finish it, after a lot of reshaping...

dead winter in the forgotten land

This is Alistair/Amell, tracing back a relationship that has fallen apart, between two people who can't let each other go:

.

His lips are a little dry, and his chest is solid, and she can feel his breath against her cheek. She blinks sleepily, her hair messy.

She wants a life of this. Warm and sleepy and boring. Arguing over dishes and dinner. Alistair’s arm slung over her stomach, heavy and relaxed. She used to have trouble sleeping with weight, but now, she finds she can’t sleep without it.

Recently, Amell has found herself wondering if she would be better off had she never heard of Jowan’s plan, if she had never become a Grey Warden. She would be dead, most likely, but she would be ignorant before it. And perhaps happy. She’s been talking to Wynne and thinking of sacrifice, and it’s left her feeling wrong. Wardens live to sacrifice. So do mages.

She watches him breathe lightly in sleep. The light catches his hair and he looks… different. Shiny and clean. Like a king’s son. There’s a hollow in her chest. There are many ways to sacrifice.

.

on AO3 here!

I'll tag @lasatfat, @rowanisawriter, and @ziskandra; no pressure at all, but if you want to hype up a one-shot you've written in the past, I am here to encourage it haha!

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I knew what was coming but somehow having Alistair try to break up because allegedly "I can't get pregnant" THEN you having to convince him not to break up with you somehow broke my heart more than Solavellan ngl

Solas folds because he cannot bear to have you walk the dinanshiral. Alistair folds because you're not a human noble (amid other valid reasons like the stability of Ferelden, other characterization reasons like encouraging him to embrace duty and this is a reflection of it etc etc BUT STILL)

Absolutely devastated. Bioware strikes again

Playing da origins for the first time (as a inquisition->veilguard girlie so i headcanon my tabris has prophecies and visions of the future)

i want to make alistair king but his Ultimate Lack of Rizz has bewitched my tabris Body and Soul unfortunately even before meeting zevran

it is still early-ish game, theyre still rallying the factions in the treaty...but somehow my darling tabris gets the vibes that things with a bastard prince will not end well with a current political power vacuum

after her first marriage-related trauma, i dont know if i want to subject her to it again D :

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(7) wife guy

Lavellan's current plight was entirely unknown to Solas. While this ignorance spared him the edge of immediate despair, it left him to languish in a haze of unfocused yearning. He sat cross-legged in his ethereal cage, resting his chin on his fist in glum resignation. The prison was nothing more than an infinite scroll of torment, every line etched with his regrets, written anew in painstaking, relentless detail. If only it were silent.

“Ellana knew the value of silence,” he murmured to himself, voice raspy with disuse. “She said it allowed the world to speak.” He rubbed at his temples. Even now, her wisdom twisted itself into his thoughts like roots overtaking stone. He looked up at the swirling currents of the Fade and frowned.

“Ah, but the Fade speaks constantly,” he continued, addressing no one. “Would she have found this place too loud? Perhaps I...” He trailed off, his words dissolving into the same void that had consumed his agents’ patience over the years. Those who remained—a dwindling few—had no doubt celebrated his disappearance as much as they lamented it.

He shifted to his feet, his movements languid. The act of standing felt hollow; a gesture of purpose in a place where none would be found. His steps echoed as he began to pace.

He was haunted by shades of friends, discarded and lost—agents he'd driven away over the years, where once there had been countless. True allies had always been few by his own design, preferring to walk the lonely path. “They were loyal,” he whispered, his voice laden with regret. “Though perhaps... too loyal.”

He recalled a young mage whose name he'd never bothered to learn, one of many. The unfortunate recruit, in a misguided attempt at kindness, had once dared bring him a meal unprompted. Seizing the rare opportunity, Solas proceeded to subject the boy to an excruciatingly detailed account of the Inquisitor's culinary preferences, which he insisted held strategic importance.

“The Inquisitor,” he began, his voice strained with an emotion masked poorly as necessity, “is not to be underestimated. Her methods are subtle, and her preferences—though seemingly benign—may yet provide insight into her plans. Fish stew, for example,” he continued, his cadence suggesting an air of somber significance, “a humble fare, yet laden with the quiet promise of calculated vulnerability. It speaks volumes... if one dares to listen.”

Clearing his throat, he pressed on. “It is vital you understand her preferences, should the matter become critical to our mission.” The mage had nodded, too polite, and quite frankly too terrified, to interrupt. “I expect you to remember this,” Solas concluded, his tone heavy with sentimentality. “In every detail, there is power. Such details could save your life.”

It was not only meals that served as the unwitting canvas for his grief. Even the act of breathing could spark reflection—a cruel and constant reminder of her absence. Once, a seasoned warrior known for his stoic discipline had joined their ranks. Solas had been mid-strategy discussion when the warrior’s heavy breathing caught his attention, unraveling his thoughts into a familiar spiral.

“Air,” Solas remarked, interrupting himself. “The Inquisitor used to breathe air. A calculated maneuver—effortlessly universal. Remarkable, in its subtlety. Even the act of breathing became a weapon she might wield against her adversaries.” The agent had left the following week, citing a sudden need for “spiritual clarity.”

A pity. He had been promising.

Solas sank back to the ground, the weight of his melancholy anchoring him in place. “I am but a shade of sorrow,” he whispered, his voice carrying the solemnity of a dirge. “Yet it is a fate I embrace willingly. For if sorrow is my only tether to her, then let it bind me in eternity.”

The words hung in the air, fragile. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, he imagined the specter of Lavellan rolling her eyes. It was a small comfort.

Time stretched on, meaningless and infinite. The Fade’s currents shifted again, but the prison remained unchanged. Solas sighed, letting his thoughts drift to the one inevitable conclusion they always reached.

Perhaps it was no wonder his agents had abandoned him. Even he could not stand himself.

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[a note, left in two different handwritings in the Lighthouse’s library:]

Rook and Davrin’s Rules for Dealing with Darkspawn

1. Yes this list is common sense. Yes it’s getting written down anyway. (Seen too many people tainted to leave it unwritten.)

2. Keep your distance.

3. Wear a helmet or head covering.

4. If any darkspawn blood gets on your clothes, burn it. (Clothes are replaceable. People aren’t.) Do not breathe the smoke.

5. Keep your distance. Let us handle the up close and personal. Take out the ranged bastards.

6. Be aware of what’s behind you at all times. (Some darkspawn are surprisingly sneaky.)

7. Ghouls are fragile, but fast. Don’t let them close in.

8. Don’t touch darkspawn weapons.

9. Tell us immediately if you get hit. Sometimes there’s a chance for luck to beat the blight corruption.

10. Don’t play the hero. That’s a Warden’s job. (Let us take the worst of it. Please.)

[Below, in Harding’s handwriting:]

But what if there are too many for the two of you?

[And the answer:]

Run.

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five of cups ✶

artfight defence! @nev-jpgg

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wolv. gouache watercolor 2018