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nyssatrevelyan · 7 years

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Abandoned

Abandoned 2,333 words

Nyssa had awoken alone.

For a moment, she was cold and disoriented, and she looked around blearily, trying to make sense of the world. Straw was scratching her, and she was sore and naked and….

Blackwall.

She looked around the upper story of the barn, but aside from a cat prowling about looking for mice, she was alone. She could hear the mounts shuffling and making quiet noises to themselves, and Horsemaster Dennet speaking to them softly. Maker, if she could hear him….

Nyssa raked her fingers through her hair, and felt straw in it. She blushed, groping for her clothing. As she did, she noticed the soft gleam of metal by her feet, and leaned over.

Blackwall’s Warden-Commander badge.

A chill raced down Nyssa’s spine. Why would he leave this here, with her?

By the time she’d made it down the stairs to the ground level of the barn, Dennet had blessedly found something to do outside by the well. She was more than half convinced by the way he studiously stayed at the well that he HAD heard what had happened last night, and was trying to give her an escape route.

Might well be he was trying to give HIMSELF a way out of an uncomfortable encounter, too.

A piece of paper caught her attention, balanced against the griffon riding toy Blackwall had been carving. She picked it up, her stomach knotting with dread.

My lady:

There is little I can say that will ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would've hurt more if I stayed.

I am deeply sorry. -- Blackwall

She stood, staring at the note, her mind racing. He'd.... left? He'd left, and had tried to make it seem... good that he'd left?

She gripped the parchment hard, unconscious of crumpling it in her suddenly damp fist. It couldn't be, he loved her and she loved him, he wouldn't --

Unless...

Her cheeks burned with shame. She hadn't told him, not until they were already.... that this -- that he was her first love.

He'd stopped, frozen for a moment, and she'd seen something in his eyes -- indecision? Worry? For a moment she'd thought he'd stop, and had begged him to go on. He'd seemed to come to some decision, and instead of stopping, he'd been very gentle and compassionate, attentive to her beyond all imaginings. He'd coaxed her to pleasure repeatedly, until she'd dozed off, limp and exhausted, nestled against his side.

Maybe.... maybe he hadn't liked her. Maybe her inexperience.... Or worse, maybe he'd never liked her. Maybe he had only wanted to bed the Inquisitor. People were attracted to power, and she was no fool -- she was attractive enough, physically....

Maybe that was all he'd ever wanted of her.

Her stomach twisted with nausea as she turned toward the barn door and saw a scout standing there.

“Sister Leliana has confirmed it. Blackwall has gone.”

Nyssa nodded slightly, the parchment damp and crumpled in her fist, then noticed the look of sympathy in the runner’s eyes. She looked away quickly, her face suffusing with shame. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely able to get around the lump in her throat. “That will be all.”

She didn’t run. A lifetime of Circle training took over, and she walked purposefully but without unseemly, eye-catching haste – her hand wrapped so tightly around the Constable’s badge that the edges cut painfully into her hand.

He should never have allowed her to accompany him back to the stables.

Blackwall tightened the cinches on his -- well, the Inquisition's horse, really, but the little gelding he rode most often when they went into the field. Brown as dirt, steady, with a deceptive gait that ate up distance even with a hairy lummox like him aboard.

The gelding turned to look at him, nudging the warrior with a soft nicker. Blackwall usually had a carrot or an apple for him, but now, tonight -- he hadn't taken the time to get one from the kitchens.

He glanced at the ceiling above him praying that even this slight noise wouldn't give him away, heard nothing, and turned back to his task. With every buckle fastened, disgust, guilt and sorrow made him more desperate to be away.

He'd known he was worthless. He'd known and he'd begged Nyssa to believe him when he said he was nobody, and that there no life they could have together. And now she was another regret, another stain on his soul -- another life he'd fouled and ruined, just because he was too weak to do the right thing and leave her alone. A woman twenty years his junior... bad enough he was old enough to be her father, but the life she'd had forced on her had left her far more innocent than he'd realized.

He'd wanted to believe her. That was his only excuse, and stiil, the blame was his entirely, not hers. He'd wanted to believe her when she told him she knew he was a good man, he'd wanted to believe her when she looked at the death and destruction in his wake and said, "You don't have to face this alone." And blessed Andraste, the way she looked at him, and the gentleness of her touch... the way she believed in him, trusted him....

He should never have let her accompany him back from the tavern. They'd drunk some, but he wouldn't excuse himself with that. He hadn't been drunk. Neither had she. The difference was he'd known, he'd known from the moment he asked her to accompany him to the tavern that he would be leaving. He'd known what he was doing, and couldn't -- and didn't want to stop. She had probably imagined this was the start of their life together when he knew, he'd always known, it was goodbye.

Another lie. Another betrayal.

He leaned forward, his head against the saddle, a hand over his eyes, his breath unsteady. The one person in the world who thought him worth something, and to do this to her....

He swallowed, straightened, and continued his task, now fastening his saddlebags to the saddle.

He'd taken her innocence on a stack of hay bales in a stable.

The shame of that hit him like a hammer blow; it took his breath away. He hadn't realized until her sharp gasp, and when he'd realized, tried to disengage, she'd clutched him tighter and pleaded with him not to worry, to go on, that she loved him....

A worthless bastard like him.

He'd loved her like a man possessed, whispering his adoration of her with every stroke -and then he'd loved her again, kissing her, stroking her, licking her. He'd managed to build her pleasure, tease her until she came, stifling her cries in his shoulder.

He could still taste her. Maker, he had thought to take the memory of her to his pyre, but once he realized that he was the first man she'd lain with, he'd used every technique he knew to bring her to fruition, three times to his once. To leave her with at least one good memory of him.

"She's happy."

He gasped, whirling. Cole, of course. "Maker's balls," he swore, taking the horse's reins.

"Guilt, shame, another life ruined, another lie, another betrayal -- go before I can't. It's better this way." Those pale eyes looked at him from beneath a fringe of limp blonde hair and that ridiculous hat. "You don't want to go.... and she needs you."

"The last thing she needs is me," Blackwall said. "Maker forgive me for hurting her like this -- I know I can't." He looked at the strange spirit boy. "Let her sleep," he begged. "Let her have some happiness before she realizes.... before I'm gone." He led the horse outside.

"She loves you." Cole sounded a little confused, a little worried. "She'd help, I know she'd help! She'd want to -- "

"No, Cole!" The whisper came sharp, and fierce. "She mustn't know, she mustn't.... it's kinder to let her remember me as she sees me -- not as I am."

Blackwall mounted the gelding. "Let her dream," he repeated softly. "Let her have some peace. Maker knows she gets little enough of it."

He'd left the note on the unfinished griffon riding toy -- and the Warden-Constable badge beside her.

Let her love the dream. The reality would be a bitter disappointment.

He'd ridden through the silent, empty courtyard and out of Skyhold, alone.

When Dorian knocked at Nyssa's door a few hours later, it was opened after a good few minutes of fumbling.

Nyssa was swaying slightly as she held the door open, a bottle of Gwaren whisky clutched by its neck in her left hand. The bottle glowed a peculiar green as the mark pulsed against the cold dglass. “Dorian!” she said, a bit too loudly. “C’mon in, have a drink with me, cousin!”

Dorian stepped in, shutting the door and guiding her back up the steps with his hand gently resting on the small of her back. “I see it’s been that sort of day for you this time, Nyssa.”

“He’s gone,” she said, plopping gracelessly onto the couch by the top of the stairs and taking another swig from the bottle. She coughed, then looked away at the pattern in the carpet. “Gone,” she repeated. “Without a word.”

She didn't need to clarify: runners had been racing through the library up to and down from Leliana's roost all day. It hadn't been long before he knew that Blackwall had gone, whither no one knew.

“Somehow it doesn’t feel very gratifying to have been right about his boorishness.” Dorian reached over and gently tugged the bottle from her fingers, then took a swig himself. His nose wrinkled at the taste. “Nyssa, I thought you had better taste than this.”

“It’s strong,” she said, raking her fingers through her hair. “I need strong.”

He considered the missing Warden, and kicked himself for having encouraging her in her pursuit. Yes, she had been attracted to Blackwall, probably his physical strength. He WAS quite a burly man, and muscular. What must he have seemed to her when mages tended to be lithe? He was larger than Cullen, and any of the templars in the courtyard sparring. He must have felt safe, like protection. But there was also that quiet resolve to do one's duty as one must. Nyssa had fallen for that, too.

Dorian huffed, trying to distract her as he considered how best to help her. "I suspect the last thing you'll need in the morning is the hangover this swill will trigger." He sat beside her on the couch. "But, if needs must, we'll be miserable together. Mother Giselle can shoot me some more dirty looks and make a few veiled comments about my undue influence on you, but ha! the joke will be on her -- it will be your influence over me!"

Nyssa stopped, looking stricken. "I don't want that 'bad Tevinter' nonsense coming back up."

"Well, I AM a bad Tevinter. Ask my countrymen." He smiled at her, leaning and crossing his leg negligently. His rings flashed as he saluted her with the bottle.

Nyssa flopped back against the couch, groaning.

Dorian took one more swallow of the whiskey, then set it out of her reach, shaking his head at the taste. "People come and go from Skyhold for all sorts of reasons. Why is this particularly upsetting to you? I know you were fond of...."

She closed her eyes, took a breath. "Because I spent the night with him," she said in a small voice. "And when I woke, he was gone."

Dorian went still, his grey eyes darkening. Oh, he knew how that went, well enough. The difference being that he had known each time what the outcome would be come the morning. Clearly, Nyssa had not.

She sat forward, elbows on her knees, running her fingers through her hair nervously. "I feel so stupid," she said, her voice tight and shaky. "I'm not... I hadn't...." She stilled, unable to meet his eyes. "Maybe.... I just wasn't g--"

Maker. She was ashamed.

Dorian shook his head. "Stop. I refuse to listen to you running down my best friend." There was anger smouldering in his eyes, but Nyssa could also see -- not pity, but understanding. He put a hand on her shoulder. "No matter what you may think or feel, it has nothing to do with you, and everything in the world to do with his being a swine."

Nyssa shook her head bitterly. "Everyone leaves me," she muttered.

"Nyssa...."

She looked over at him. "Everyone, Dorian. My parents... they couldn't get the templars out to take me away fast enough. When I was in the Circle, I didn't.... I wasn't able to inherit but I had it pounded into my head that there had better not be any Trevelyan mage bastards. So I wouldn't.... and my friend decided to move on to someone who would." She drew a short, shuddering breath. "And when the Circle dissolved -- my Aunt Lucille took me, just long enough to send me to the Conclave with my templar and clerical cousins. They're all dead now." She sat stiffly. "So this, this being alone thing, it's not new to me. But it still hurts. It hurts that no one stays, ever."

He sighed, and there was something unreadable in his eyes as he slid closer and wrapped an arm around her, tugging her close. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, my dear. Poor as that company may be." He felt her start to relax against his shoulder fractionally, and patted her back gently, soothingly. "And one of the first things we are going to work on, beside your perception that you are somehow unworthy of people's regard, is your pedestrian taste in alcohol. Surely as Inquisitor you should have better ways to drown your sorrows!"

He sat there, soothing her, until she finally fell asleep.

#Nyssa Trevelyan/Blackwall #NaNoWriMo #dragon age fanfiction #Dragon Age: Inquisition #blackwall/trevelyan #comments welcome

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crystal-grace · 7 years

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Character Romances & Tags

Wardens:

Nyssa Mahariel - Zevran - The Fox and the Crow

Kofiara Aeducan - Leliana -

Elianna Cousland - Alistair - Heavy is the Crown

Korrine Surana - Leliana (Briefly) - Songbirds

Hawkes:

Ghaliyah Hawke - Isabela - Safe Harbors

Navera Hawke - Sebastian -

Inquisitors:

Kethryllia Lavellan - Cullen - The Phoenix and the Lion

Yaviel Lavellan - Solas - The Raven and the Wolf

Alyurae Lavellan - Josephine

Varimael Lavellan - Dorian

Persephone Adaar - Sera

Theophania Trevelyan - Iron Bull

Melitta Cadash - Blackwall

Shaelle Lavellan - Solas - Thy name is Grace

Many of these tags are empty since I haven’t done these playthrus yet. Some don’t even have ship tags yet...whoops

#Salem speaks #reblobs #character tags #reminders

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nyssatrevelyan · 5 years

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Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan Characters: Cole (Dragon Age), Dorian Pavus, Nyssa Trevelyan, Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford, Leliana (Dragon Age), Josephine Montilyet, Morrigan (Dragon Age), Ban Marcus Trevelyan Additional Tags: Angst Series: Part 2 of Tales of the Inquisitor Summary:

Nyssa Trevelyan wakes alone, in the stables.

**New Chapter -- I know it’s been forever.

The Proposal

“Inquisitor, Bann Marcus Trevelyan.” Josephine ushered Nyssa’s father into her office.

Nyssa stood from behind the desk, where she had been seeing to some correspondence as she waited. There had been a small table set with light refreshments, and set for two. Nyssa gestured to the table and asked formally, “Won’t you sit down?”

Ban Trevelyan looked around the office. It was clean and, except for the desk she had just stood from, orderly. The immense library of books behind her were obviously well-used and just as obviously well cared for. It reminded him rather of his own study at the Trevelyan estate in Ostwick.

Keep Reading on A03

He moved to the table and would have pulled out her chair for her; Nyssa simply pulled out her own chair and seated herself. The look she fixed him with showed she had not forgotten her etiquette but instead was acting as the ruler of this fortress, not a lady of the court.

Not that she’d ever gotten the chance to be a lady, really.

“I will… leave you to your conversation.” Josephine looked nervous about leaving the two together. “I will be right in my office, should you require anything.”

------------------------------------

After Josephine had left in a soft susurration of satin and velvet, Nyssa picked up a bottle and asked, “May I offer you some wine?”

“Thank you.” Marcus looked around the room again. “This seems a good, quiet place to work.”

“One of the few here at Skyhold,” Nyssa said politely. “Quite close to the Throne Room, convenient to the kitchens and wine cellar.” She poured the wine into first his glass, then her own. “It’s an Antivan white – I find myself quite fond of it.”

Marcus sighed. The small talk, if anything, was making this all quite a bit more awkward. “I didn’t expect our meeting to be this difficult.”

“Oh? How did you expect it would go?” Nyssa was maddeningly correct in her manners, but there was definitely a cold undercurrent in her words. Her hazel eyes were not angry, but guarded. And for that, Marcus could not blame her.

The last time she had seen him, he had shut her in her room and turned the key in the lock. It next opened when a templar and mage came to remove her to the Circle, and from what he had understood – it had not been pleasant. He had been coward enough not to wait with her, not to explain – not to come out of his study until she was gone. Still, it hurt to see her looking at him as if he were a stranger.

“I had hoped,” he said, stung a little, “that you might be happy to see me.”

“I am glad you seem well enough,” she said carefully.

Marcus took a deep breath, and marshalled his patience. “I understand that you are angry with me –”

“Do you?” She flicked her eyes up to meet his. “I am not angry. Not anymore. What I am is profoundly disappointed in you, and suspicious at the timing of this visit.”

“Disa—”

Nyssa cut him off. “You lived less than thirty minutes from the Ostwick Circle. Other mages’ parents visited – not you. Why? Why did I have to hear what little I did about my own family from other mages?”

He looked away. “It was a mistake,” he murmured. “We should never have cut ties with you. But you don’t understand – we were afraid. If anyone found out….”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Nyssa put her goblet down carefully. “I understand that if it got around that the Trevelyans – the pious Trevelyans, with their templars and mothers, brothers, chanters and sisters – had magic in their blood, well, there would go the family reputation. No suitable matches for my brothers, the family honor in shreds. Better to pretend I had never existed – I understand completely.”

Marcus shook his head. “No. You don’t. Your books, your staves, your clothes – we, I made sure you had everything you needed – the best of everything….”

“Except you.” There was no heat to it, simply a statement of fact.

Marcus got up, paced. “I’m going to make it up to you, Nyssa.” He turned and looked at her. “What do you know of the Bryland family?”

Nyssa’s head came up sharply, and she glared. “No.”

“They are a highly favored noble family in Ferelden, and….”

“I said, no.”

Marcus looked exasperated. “Nyssa, as your father, it’s my duty to make a good match for you.”

“Since WHEN?” she flared, slapping her hand on the table and making the cutlery rattle. “It was your duty to have me dragged off to the Circle! It was your duty to cut ties with your only daughter and leave her to be raised by strangers! So, when did it become your duty to have anything whatever to do with me?”

“Be reasonable!” he snapped. “I’m trying to make it up to you, by making a good match….”

“No.” She stood. “You’re not trying to make it up to me. When I was just a MAGE, it was convenient to have me put away. Now that I am the Inquisitor, you think you can broker some deal to make things cushier for you.”

Marcus went red. “The Brylands are expecting an invitation to Skyhold.”

Nyssa gaped at him. “You invited them, before even meeting me?”

Marcus crossed his arms. “Of course. It’s a good match, you’ll see. They are well-positioned in the Ferelden court. You will have a….”

Nyssa crossed her arms, unconsciously mirroriring him. “Uninvite them. I don’t care about their position in the Ferelden court, and I don’t care about how this will affect the Trevelyans. If they come here looking for a betrothal they will be sorely disappointed.”

Marcus took two steps toward her, his face crimson. “You will….”

There was an awkward clearing of throat, and both Nyssa and Marcus turned toward the hallway. Instead of an embarrassed servant, however, there stood Thom Rainier – beard neatly trimmed, well groomed, and wearing his gambeson with an Inquisition tabard over it.

“Forgive me, my lady, but you asked me to remind you that you were to speak to the newly arrived mages once they were shown their quarters,” he said politely.

Nyssa flashed him a puzzled look, and before Marcus could turn to catch it, Thom gave a slight nod of his head toward the door.

“Oh, of course,” Nyssa said, “Thank you.” She tugged the bell pull, and a moment later Josephine appeared, looking momentarily flustered that Thom was present. “Lady Montilyet, please escort Bann Trevelyan to his quarters. I must go meet with the new mages.”

“At once, Inquisitor.” Josephine smiled at Bann Trevelyan, though anyone who knew her would have seen she was bristling with curiosity. “This way, my lord.”

“Nyssa—”

“We’ll speak again soon. Duty calls,” Nyssa said, following Thom through the kitchens.

------------------------------------

As Nyssa followed Thom up to the battlements, she gave him a curious look. “How…”

“Cole popped in on Varric and said something about you getting ‘too bright to see’. Varric sent me to see to it. I don’t think he wanted to pull ice shards out of his chest hair.”

Nyssa snorted. “I was getting annoyed enough that if I’d not kept a tight rein on my temper, the temperature might well have dropped. Seeing to the new mages – that was brilliant. Perfect, considering the topic.”

“Oh.” Earnest blue eyes turned to look at her, curious, but wary. “I, uh, take it discussing family history did not go well.”

“It did not.”

They stopped once they had climbed the stairs, looking out and down into the valley at the army camp below. It was pretty from up here at night – the glow of campfires seeming like fireflies.

“I imagine… he tried to reconcile with you?”

Nyssa turned, scowling. “That’s what he called it. I call it arrogance.” She pointed across the courtyard to the keep. “He is trying to marry me off to some Ferelden nobles!”

“I see.” His gaze slid away, looking down at the army camped below.

Nyssa dropped her arm, looking at Thom.

“My lady,” he sighed.

Nyssa could feel the gulf opening between then, came closer to him in one, two strides, and laid her hand on his arm. “Thom, don’t….”

He wouldn’t look at her. “You shouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. The Inquisition – well, one way or the other, it won’t last forever. If you survive this, you should have…”

“I should have what?” she demanded, reaching up to cup his cheek, even if he steadfastly kept his eyes down. “I should have another gilded cage? I should have an arranged marriage that will benefit him, as it benefitted him to put me in the Circle? I should give up the freedom I have – for what? Velvet and silks, gems, and more people ordering my life for me?”

“You would have all the riches and comforts you’ve always deserved.” He finally looked at her, and she could see the unspoken words in his eyes, everything I can never give you.

“Thom Rainier,” she said softly, “I have had the best of everything, as Bann Trevelyan put it. The best robes, the best books, the best staves, the best ingredients….”

“You could have more.”

“I do have more.” She reached up with her other hand, framing his face. “I have a man who loves me for who I am, not what I have, not what influence I wield. That’s worth more to me than pretty shoes and shiny baubles.” She stood on tiptoe, leaning her forehead against his.

He sighed, letting his arms come around her. “I don’t deserve you,” he said quietly.

“You do. And I deserve you.”

He chuckled. “You definitely don’t deserve me, Nyssa.” He kissed her forehead. "What will you do?"

"Do?" She shrugged. "Nothing. It's his mess, let him clean it up. He's treated me as some unwanted by-blow for twenty years. I don't feel any obligation to him. And even if he were to be foolish enough to bring the Brylands here, I have no problem with the scandal 'no' will cause him." She stepped closer, hugging him tightly. "No priest of Andraste would perform the rite once I said no. Who can he appeal to? There is no Divine. To the King of Ferelden?" She shook her head. "Given that we are allies I don't think King Alistair would attempt to force it. No. Bann Trevelyan can extricate himself from this position he tried to force on me as best he can." Thom sighed. "It will cause ill will between you and your family."

"A family in name only, these twenty years. Anyone who cared about me is gone, blown to shreds at Haven."

She sighed. "My, but won't Dorian love to hear this one."

He expelled a long, slow breath. "Yes, of course. I'm sure Lord Pavus will have a lot to say about your choices."

Nyssa looked up then, frowning slightly. "Thom? You're not jealous of him, are you?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. "Jealous? Why would I be jealous," he said evenly, but she could hear the bitterness that underlay it. "Man half my age, handsome and he knows it, a noble like you, a mage like you...."

"Who doesn't like me. Not like you seem to think, anyway." She looked slightly amused as she cupped his cheek. "We are distant cousins, and very dear friends. But that's all there is to it. And I need an archivist I trust, and someone I can discuss magic with without being made to feel I am a naughty child for asking." She chuckled. "Trust me, you are not in competition with Dorian for my affections." She touched her nose to his. "Sit with us the next time we're arguing theory if you like. I've not asked you because I feared you'd find it boring but...."

"You have the right of it," he chuckled, and she could tell that he believed her, even if he still doubted his own worth.

She kissed him, then tugged his hand. "Come to the tavern with me," she wheedled. "Bull and the Chargers will be there by now -- and Sera, too. We'll have fun. I could use fun." She poked his chest through the gambeson. "You could use it, too."

He inclined his head to her. "As you wish, my lady."

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #nyssatrevelyan #abandoned

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nyssatrevelyan · 6 years

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Tell me about your OC: Companion Edition

Rules:

Describe your OC as they are described by their companions. Show us what they look like! Tag at least 5 (or more) followers and 5 blogs you follow! :) Enjoy writing!

@the-seeker-cassandra, @scarsthatshapeus, @aislintrevelyan, @rhunae, @tryvyalsynnes, @archer-and-anders, @antivanruffles, @asolitaryrose, @blood-magic, @loghainmactir

Nyssa Aurelia Trevelyan

Blackwall: She loves me unconditionally. I don’t understand why. She is my world.

Cassandra: I misjudged her. An honorable woman, principled. She has sacrificed much to close the Breach. She is not the first mage I met who is like this; perhaps we should reconsider the Circles as they are.

Cole: She is kind. She worries about all of her friends. She worries for me.

Cullen: She is a good leader, and a clever strategist. She does not expect her men to spend their lives needlessly.

Dorian: Where do I begin? I could mention her charm and wit, and her keen mind -- but then, you might confuse her with me. Of the Southern mages, she is certainly the most open-minded. The best friend I’ve ever had; I would stand beside her no matter the consequence.

The Iron Bull: The boss? Smart, beautiful, cares about her men. Plus, she’s a red-head. (rumbles appreciatively)

Josephine: The Inquisitor is most poised and diplomatic, compassionate when she can be and just, always.

Vivienne: A more clever player of the Game than I had realized. Entirely too naive and idealistic at times, but she does what she puts her mind to.

Leliana: While she is a mage, she has maintained connections with her noble family. Her ability to call on members of the Chantry, the Templars and her noble relatives has made her a powerful leader. Also, she secretly adores caramels enrobed in dark chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt.

Sera: Quizzy? For a mage she’s all right -- tries not to be all scary. Cares about the little people -- funny for a noble. Not stuck-up at all. Knows how to have fun. Maybe might want to be a Jenny when all the saving-the-world shite’s over? Sneaky enough for it.

Varric: Snowflake? For a woman who deals in ice, she’s got a big, warm heart for strays of all kinds. Might actually straighten out this Mage-Chantry-Templar shit, if politics don’t get in her way.

Solas: A quick mind, a learned woman, and blessed with compassion and fairness. A pity the world is not a fair nor kind one.

#nyssatrevelyan

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nyssatrevelyan · 7 years

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💝 💥 💍

💝 Nyssa’s most recent serious relationship is with Blackwall. There was just something about the man she implicitly trusted from the beginning, and she pursued him, gently but relentlessly, despite his protests and his discouragement. When his true identity was revealed, she was hurt that he’d kept it from her – but saw that in a real sense, he’d lived the past five years atoning for his crime, and that in honesty, he WAS the lie…. even if he couldn’t see that he was the lie.

It took some time for them to figure out how to fit together again, but in all important ways, she never stopped trusting him. He, in fact, is the one who still doubts himself. (note: this is from the fic I am writing – RPs I am currently engaged in are following some very, very different paths.)

💥 Nyssa’s worst relationship was a pretty unsatisfying one in the Circle. She’d made very sure of her skills in brewing potions to prevent pregnancy, and was glad for it – the mage who flattered her and charmed his way into her good graces over a period of months had foolishly bragged to others of the Circle that he was about to bed a Trevelyan. Unfortunately for him, he said it before Ser Bran, a templar…. whose last name also happened to be Trevelyan.

The mage was transferred to the Circle in Jader with a black eye, and Nyssa had to bear the brunt of Ser Bran’s lectures on not sullying the Trevelyan name – a theme also picked up by her cousins who were lay brothers and sisters in the Chantry.

💍 Before the conclave, the idea would never have occurred to her. As a mage she cannot inherit, and the Chantry would never allow a marriage between two Circle members. It was just barely possible to marry outside the Circle but – what non-mage would want her?

Since becoming Inquisitor, it’s an intriguing question. If mages are allowed to live outside of Circles, as free men and women, or at least, if she is allowed to remain outside the Circle when all is said and done – then yes. She would marry. With the right person -- one who sees her as Nyssa, and not as mage, Herald, Inquisitor, savior -- or any of the rest of that nonsense.

#ask nyssa #fadedancer #nyssatrevelyan

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nyssatrevelyan · 5 years

Text

Abandoned

The Arrival

Nyssa walked down to the gatehouse with Dorian and Josephine flanking her on either side. She was dressed in her “official business” armor – the same golden armor in which she had pronounced judgment against her love, Thom Rainier, also known as Blackwall.

“I hardly think I am the best source of advice on difficult relationships between parents and children,” Dorian said gently as they approached the lower courtyard. “Remember, I fled and would not have even spoken to him had I not been cajoled into it by a very dear if not frightfully optimistic friend.”

“You may not be able to provide advice,” Nyssa admitted, “but it’s more moral support I need here, Dorian. You’re probably the only person here who can quite fathom the abyss my family and I will be facing each other over.”

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“You cannot know until you meet them what this is all about,” Josephine chided. “Perhaps they truly wish to reconcile – realize that cutting you from their lives was a mistake.”

Nyssa shrugged. “I was only six, but my mother made it quite clear that she regarded me as a mistake – a curse from the maker, a punishment for Maker knows what minor fault or flaw in character. The Circle tower was no more than a thirty-minute carriage ride from our estate – I know, I took a carriage past it on my way to the Conclave. You would think they could have managed to drop over for tea once or twice over twenty years?” She sighed. “My mother was an ultra-religious Andrastian. I can’t see that changing, to be honest.”

“And your father?” Dorian asked.

“Did whatever mother directed him to do. And whatever she directed usually kept them ensconced as seventh most influential family in Ostwick.”

“Well… it appears their carriage has made it,” Josephine said when the trumpets sounded across the bridge. “Smile,” she encouraged. “If nothing else, perhaps we can wheedle men, equipment, or money for the cause.”

Nyssa snorted. “For the Herald of Andraste? If they believe that to be true, you’ll have to fight to keep them from funding us.” “Here they come.”

------------------------

The carriage was sturdy (it would have to be, to make the trip into the Frostbacks) but stylish as well, in an understated manner. It did boast rather a large crest of the Trevelyan heraldry on its side, and was drawn by two large, shaggy grey horses matching their heraldic animal as closely as possible. After a brief stop in the gatehouse to allow Inquisition guards to examine it, the carriage was allowed to draw into the lower courtyard, where its driver halted the horses and a footman scrambled to open the door and help the passengers alight.

Passenger. There was only one passenger inside, and Nyssa grew still.

Bann Marcus Trevelyan stepped down from the carriage. It was clear from whom Nyssa had inherited her large hazel eyes and bronze hair. Bann Trevelyan’s eyes were clear and intelligent, and when they fell upon Nyssa’s face there was a softening there, a look of regret. That look was fleeting, however, and he strode forward to speak to her.

“Nyssa,” he said quietly.

“Bann Trevelyan,” she replied politely, and he tensed slightly.

“Welcome to Skyhold.” Nyssa took a step back, and turned to introduce her companions. “May I present Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador?”

“A pleasure,” he rumbled, giving Josephine a courteous bow that was absolutely correct for one of her rank. “Montilyet?” Marcus Trevelyan’s eyes rested on her curiously. “Ah, yes… your father and I once spoke at Lucille’s summer soiree. I have heard that his paintings are superb.”

“He would be most pleased that you recalled him, Bann Trevelyan.” Josephine bowed back to him.

“Do give him my regards when next you communicate.” He turned to Dorian. “And you, Ser, are….?” “Dorian of House Pavus,” Dorian replied easily. “A Tevinter,” Marcus said curiously. “Your pardon, I thought that the Inquisition was rather in opposition to Tevinter mages.” Nyssa shook her head. “Dorian is a close friend and invaluable ally,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Now, Bann Trevelyan, you must have had a long and arduous journey. May I have you shown to your quarters while you visit here? I’ve selected some airy rooms just above the garden that I….” “I was rather hoping we might speak,” Marcus interrupted. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other….” “Twenty years, four months, and two days,” Nyssa said promptly, ignoring Josephine’s horrified look. “But who’s counting?”

Marcus sighed, looking around. “I appreciate that you’re angry –”

“Befuddled, is more like it. Why are you here?”

“—but can we please speak someplace privately, rather than in the mire of the lower courtyard like common stablehands?”

Josephine stepped forward. “May I suggest my office, Inquisitor, Bann Trevelyan? It’s not far, and it’s….”

“My office,” Nyssa said firmly. “Yours is cozier by far, Lady Montilyet, but it is also not very private, what with runners reporting to you constantly and the traffic to and from the War Room. Have a fire laid in the hearth in my office, chairs and a table brought down, and light refreshments.”

Marcus Trevelyan looked relieved. “Thank you.”

“I won’t have it be said that the welcome one receives at Skyhold is one iota less appropriate than in any capital in Thedas,” Nyssa said coolly, turning. “Shall we say an hour? That should give you time to freshen up and me time to make sure all is prepared.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #nyssatrevelyan #abandoned

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