#alistair tabris has such a ring to it

[wrdn-tabris]

my crackpot dragon age hc is that alistair uses the surname ‘fitz’ which just means ‘son of’. not bc maric or eamon gave it to him to be cruel, but some boys from the chantry used it for him to be mean. using it to be cruel bc they hear rumors he was given up by arl eamon, esp when eamon attempted to visit and alistair refused to see him.

like they were right and wrong, hes a bastard but not eamons bastard. the name sticks with him until hes a warden and while he doesnt care for it, its sort of his. he can choose to reframe it for himself and apply it to another person, if he wanted

[elfcollector]

drown pain effectively

rating: Teen

relationships: Zevran / Warden, platonic Warden / Morrigan and Warden / Alistair

warnings: Panic attacks, implied violence

summary:  Alia Tabris finds herself panicking while infiltrating the Arl of Denerim's estate to save Queen Anora, haunted by memories that she hasn't dared to share. The others needn't understand to help, however.

"My friend, you need to breathe."

Zevran curses himself almost before he can process why — some part of his mind processing, past the Crow training that demands he focus only on the job, that Morrigan calls only one person her friend, and that is Alia. And that means, of course, that Alia is not breathing.

He turns on his heel, hears Alistair follow suit only a moment later, and sees that his Warden is bent and leaning against the wall, one hand pressed to the stone while the other grabs at her knee to keep her small body upright. Morrigan bends beside her, unfamiliar affection and concern in her dark eyes. Alistair rushes to Alia's side after only a moment, while Zevran glances quickly back towards the door they entered through, then across the others in this hallway. No one around to see this, now. It would be dangerous for all of them — especially Alia — if any of the humans at Arl Howe's estate saw one of their supposed guards in this state.

"Lia — Lia, what's going on?" Alistair's voice is a degree too loud and two degrees too frantic, but not half as sick as the worry making a home in Zevran's chest, now that he doesn't have anything to distract. He moves closer, hovering just beside Morrigan, not sure if he should be closer. He feels wrong - footed, ill with concern and the word he avoids thinking, unsure of what kind of closeness is his right. She wears his earring, had asked if it was a proposal, but to love and be loved is so new. He isn't sure how to be useful to her this way, instead of simply killing all who are fool enough to oppose her.

"I — I can't — fuck ——" The Warden gasps, breath shuddering. "I didn't — realize it would b - be so — ba — bad being back in th - this fucking estate."

"Back?" Zevran and Morrigan ask at once. Alia crumples further into the wall, Morrigan barely catching her. Her face is pale, lips nearing purple.

"I can't —— I can't...." Her voice breaks like rotted wood, this pain damp and old; her hyperventilation gives way to quiet, desperate sobs. Practiced, like she knows she's not allowed to cry too loud.

"Alia, what do you mean 'back?'" Alistair presses, and Zevran scowls and pushes past him, closer, gripping Alia carefully around the waist to help her straighten. It doesn't work — having two supporting her, instead of just Morrigan at her elbow, seems to steal her strength, and she goes near - limp in his arms.

Morrigan voices the offense Zevran feels. "Alistair, now more than ever you ought to at least pretend at anything resembling intelligence or tact."

"Hey, what —"

"Both of you, be quiet," Zevran hisses, gently tugging Alia from Morrigan's arms and properly into his. She looks down at nothing, trembling, eyes wide and unseeing. He knows so little of her past, despite how much of his she's seen — she was born in the Alienage, yes; she'd broken into tiny pieces when she realized the Alienage was being purged, nearly vomited into the shitty Denerim alley he'd tugged her into before her horror could draw attention to the hunted Warden. He's seen the simple ring she keeps on a chain under her clothes, tucked against her heart, has not asked what it means or why she grips it so tightly, holds it to her lips when she thinks no one is looking. He'd watched her heart break and her teeth bare when the Spirit asked if she'd failed a stranger called Shianni. Alia has experienced great harm, long before he knew her, long before he could kill the ones who hurt her. He wonders what she has experienced here, and if the person who did it yet lives.

He's keenly aware of the fact that every moment they stay here is a moment a guard or servant might wander into this hallway, might put Alia at yet more risk. "Alia. My dear Warden, look at my face." She shakes her head. "You are strong. You can bear it." She raises her head. Her eyes don't focus, but it's a start. He tries to school his voice gentle. "We need to move to an empty room so the humans don't see you. Do you think you can tell us which is empty?"

Her eyes widen, lips parting to reply; nothing escapes. She has the keenest senses of them for when others are nearby — training or magic or both, he doesn't know. Her eyes close again, brows screwing shut; after a beat, she nods towards one of the doors. Morrigan takes Alia back into her willowy arms as Zevran moves closer, checking only briefly; he trusts Alia, no matter how panicked she may be. Within only a moment, Alia's been guided into the empty storage room. Alistair closes it behind them and stands there, like a guard. Morrigan releases the Warden — hesitantly, Zevran notes — back into Zevran's arms, but hovers close. Alia manages to stay upright this time, even when Zevran's hands find her biceps and slide down to tangle their fingers together.

"Breathe with me?" he says.

He inhales slowly, not breaking eye contact once he has it — she tries to follow the instruction without needing to think about it. Someone has done this with her before, Zevran thinks. A parent, a sibling, a lover. Did someone hold her like this, after whatever suffering was inflicted on her at this place? Her breathing is still stuttering and desperate, too fast, but his breath seems to help. Her hands leave his, raising and clinging clumsily to his body while his resettle on her waist. Morrigan and Alistair watch, saying nothing.

"Are you with me, Alia?" Zevran asks after some time, when she seems calmer. She nods, not seeming sure, her eyes wide but no longer darting.

"I — I'm here. I'm here." Her voice breaks once more, head ducking as the tears start back. "In this fucking place."

None of them ask this time. "You're not alone," Zevran says instead.

She crumples further, but then says, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm — okay. I'm okay." Another ragged inhale. "You're all okay. I can — protect you. Everyone."

Zevran doesn't understand, but he nods anyway. "You're very strong. And so are we all, yes? It would take a great deal more than mere human guards and yet another human despot to harm us."

She actually laughs at that, breathless and guilty, but it's something. The earring glints when she cards her scarred hands through her hair. Zevran feels something shift in him and can't name what.

"I — please help me," she says softly, looking down. Zevran sees Morrigan and Alistair stiffen just barely. She's never asked any of them for help before. "I'll — I'll be strong. I'll keep it together. But I — I'll need help. I hate this place." The shame in her voice is as thick as the desperation. It's strong to ask for this, he thinks, but it must not feel that way. Maker knows he couldn't do it. "I won't — f - fuck up. I promise. Help me and I won't."

"We're all in this together," Alistair says the same time Morrigan says, "We shall."

Alia's eyes raise back to Zevran's, searching, desperate. Tears still run down her cheeks. Something inside him is screaming in a way he doesn't understand. He thinks he might crack at any moment. He says, "Of course, my Warden."

[calicostorms]

DAO OCs Masterlist

Organized alphabetically by last name, IDs are in alt text.

Kahan Aeducan: My canon warden! Grew up as the youngest of the Aeducan brothers, born to a noble hunter and Endrin Aeducan. He took well to the brutal politicking of Orzammar and was known for his enjoyment in crafting deals or taking down lesser noble house plots against his family. He relishes in keeping people he loves safe and got his hands dirty to keep theirs clean. Honor was very important to him until Bhelen's betrayal and after becoming a warden he took every opportunity to further his chances even at the expense of others.

He is especially close with Zevran and Morrigan and after defeating the archdemon he left to chase after a cure for the Blight, using leads from Morrigan and his own research. He occasionally joined up again with Zevran to fight the crows and by Inquisition he uses his political clout in Fereldan to force their hand and require their help in closing the Breach. He has taken in a younger ex-crow Zevran discovered in his travels by the name of Ainara, and taken up a renewed fight against the crows alongside his husband, Zevran.

Aedan Cousland: One of my multi warden world state ocs! Grew up alongside his twin sister and became an accomplished, if untested, swordsman. Lived a plush life until the death of most of the Cousland family before the Blight and fled on his own to escape through the sewers. He worked his nobility to his favor and helped amass allies against the Blight, joining the warden with his warriors and becoming a warden himself. He falls for Morrigan and happily performs the ritual at her request to save them, and spends much of his time after the Blight traveling alongside her and marveling in her magic and caring for their son.

Athras Mahariel: Best friends with Tamlen and known for their budding romance with Merrill before becoming a warden. Originally born to an ex city elven father and Dalish mother, Athras took to hunting like a fish to water and was frequently found in the halla pens in their youth. After Tamlen becomes blighted by the mirror, they reluctantly become a warden and form quick bonds with Alistair at Ostagar. Frequently confused by the shemlen world and its customs, Athras often confided in Morrigan and Alistair, occasionally seeking the advice of Oghren due to his battle prowess. They harden Alistair and place him on the throne due to a concern over elvhen well being, becoming his consort, and are often the one he seeks advice from in his kingship. Functionally they're a shadow ruler of Fereldan, though few would dare to say it.

Rheya Tabris: Born to a night elf who fought alongside Loghain and Maric to retake Fereldan, Rheya was taught the art of subterfuge but took far better to wielding a greatsword and armor. She had a fierce temper and was protective of others around her, particularly Soris, who she viewed like a younger brother. She looked forward to her match with Nelaros, and after his death to save her in the castle, she kept the ring.

She became a fierce warden and a champion of the downtrodden, helping where she could and giving money when she could not. She romanced Leliana, taken in by her idealistic views and her own experiences with loss, and viewed Alistair and Sten like brothers. Outraged by Loghain's betrayal of the city elves, she fought and executed him, placing Anora on the throne after many threats to do the same if her promises to treat the elves well rang shallow. After the Blight she traveled with Leliana for a time, diverging in Kirkwall to help the alienage elves there and investigating rumors of a cured blighted mirror. Became close friends with Merrill and continues to search for a Blight cure though her hope wanes by Inquisition when she begins to hear the false calling.

Cilian Theriel: My bitchy blood mage <3. In the Circle he was very well behaved and quiet, mostly to prevent any extra attention from Templars. He had feelings for his best friend, Enoch Surana, but never acted on them out of concern for causing templars to separate them. A star pupil with a penchant for entropy magic, he relishes in becoming a warden in spite of his worry for Jowan and Enoch.

He swiftly takes the view that he must end the blight no matter the cost, and begins using blood magic to further their chances. Distrusts Alistair and finds kinship in Morrigan, but eventually is charmed by Zevran and becomes his partner. In spite of his determination, he refuses the ritual with Morrigan, arguing that it's a step too far to bring something so powerful and unknown into the world even if it will save his life. He dies slaying the archdemon.

[andrastesflamingknickers]

Wanna talk about my Warden. Vibrating with excitement while drafting short fics regarding him and how to tie him in with the Inquisition story.

Elio Tabris, city elf. Trans dude who was about to get in a t4t marriage with Nesiara before Vaughan decided to be a douchenozzle. He was even looking forward to the wedding and had had taken a liking to Nesiara right off the bat.

He is a twink. An absolute twink, and no one let's him forget it. He wants the broad shoulders and bulging boulder-like biceps, he wants the bear bod, alas he is doomed to never get it. On the bright side, no one ever expects such raw, overwhelming brute strength from him.

A warrior through and through. Give him a sword and a shield and he will charge right in, no one is getting past him. He will aggro every enemy in the vicinity to target him and him only so his companions can focus on causing as much damage as they can while minimizing their own injuries. He thinks it's a sound tactic, his companions absolutely hate it and his death-seeking ways.

He's a nice guy, the kind who is more than willing to jump in and help others if he can. That's how he was raised; to put as much good into the world as you can, that even the little things matter.

Took an immediate liking to Morrigan. He enjoyed the way she spoke, the sarcasm and roundabout comments. He was often a mediator between her and Alistair, who was hands down his best friend and practically a brother to him as they continued to travel.

A romantic. Like he will give you flowers, serenade you with sappy poetry, take you on midnight picnics. He loves with all his heart and soul.

Always seeks out gifts for his companions whenever they enter a town. Like, this dude's love language is to give. Give gifts and words of affirmation. He will make sure that it's impossible for you to even consider that he doesn't care about you.

Fell for Morrigan really freaking fast. Like by the time they reached Lothering, he already had a full on crush that only got stronger and stronger as they travelled and playfully flirted. So his story involved a whole shitton of yearning while being in a FWB relationship with her until they were finally able to bring feelings into it.

Alistair is the one who fathered Kieran, but it was unanimously agreed that for all intents and purposes Elio was the dad. Until Morrigan dipped.

After Morrigan left, like pretty much during the whole Awakening period, Elio was just a miserable, depressed soul.

"I miss my wife, Anders. I miss her so damn much"

The nightmares had affected him rather strongly from the start, and even as time progressed, they never really weakened. He was one of the unlucky 'extra sensitive' ones, and has never once known a peaceful nights sleep since the Joining. To the point that he sleeps as little as he can, and it shows. By the time the Archdemon is gone, guy is pale as death and his eyebags have eyebags.

He remains Warden Commander of Fereldan because I absolutely hate that the HoF loses the position at some point between DAO and DA2.

He looks up to Wynne as a surrogate mom just as much as Alistair, but he's a little better at hiding those feelings.

He absolutely thought Morrigan was proposing when she gave him the enchanted ring.

Whichever Hawke joined the Wardens? He straight up kicked down the doors and took them from Stroud. Sorry, man, but they're ferelden, that makes them his by right. Got a problem with it? Don't care.

[bumblerhizal-art]

Find the Word

Some time has passed since i last answered one of these, and i'm ready to go again! I was tagged by @heniareth to find four words across my WIPs, and in turn i would like to tag you back as well as @heapster-45 @wild-houseplant @badartxd and @icylook to find the words Time, Breath, Long, and/or Keep

Now please indulge yourselves to some classic wip clunk

Home (from Rites of Passage - rewrite of Novhen's origin, this segment is post canon divergence)

As the morning grogginess dissipated from Novhen's mind, awareness of his situation slowly trickled in in its place. He was in a frigid tent west of Highever, not within the familiar wooden walls of his family home. To his back was Tod, his fellow recruit, not Shianni or Soris or even Nesiara. And worst of all, he was a Warden. An elf with no place but the Deep Roads.

Novhen rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his back. This was his life now, and he had to learn to adjust. It was far too early for any respectable creature to be awake, but such was an expected consequence of residing in the company of humans.

There were voices outside the tent. Duncan and Riordan were already awake. They spoke in hushed tones but not so quietly that Novhen couldn't hear.

Today, they would finally conduct the Joining.

Novhen laid quietly for several more minutes, but they said nothing that would give away whatever secrets the Joining held. Finally, he went through the motions of getting up, making no attempt at stealth. The sooner this was done, the better.

Laugh (from Prisoner of Amaranthine - short rewrite of Nathaniel's recruitment)

Tabris leaned heavily on his cane. “Tell me. What would you do if I let you go?”

”If you let me go?” The very idea was ridiculous. “I... don't know. I only returned to Ferelden a month ago. My prospects here are all gone. If you let me go, I'll probably come back here. You might not catch me next time.”

He paused to consider the possibility. “You're really not making the best case for yourself. You know that, right?”

Nathaniel said, “I could lie if you’d prefer.”

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

There was a playful ring in his voice and the briefest, faintest smirk on his face as he said that. What exactly was his angle?

The elf kept his eyes fixed on him as he straightened his posture. "Your family name seems to mean quite a bit to you. Perhaps you could begin the work to redeem it?”

He scoffed, “You're right. I'll go join King Alistair's service immediately. He'd be certain to give a Howe another chance.” 

Tabris smiled and let out a small laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes. It gave little more insight to his thoughts than his previous expressions. It was a fake, diplomatic smile, and they both knew it.

“Can’t know ‘til you try,” he said.

Nathaniel glowered at him, “Have you reached your judgment, or do you plan to drag this torture out for the rest of the day?”

Bind (from A Crow's Word - a wip jumping off a post i made that gained some traction)

He hesitated. 

Zevran took advantage of his pause and tackled him onto the floor. He straddled Theron's hips and gently pressed another blade—where does he hide them all?—to his throat. From this angle, Theron could see Zevran's unmistakable, wide smirk perfectly.

"I believe I win this round, my dear Warden," he gloated.

Mindful of the knife, Theron replied, "Does that make it a draw or would you be up for another round?"

"I'll need to think it over first. Perhaps over dinner?"

Esmerelle interrupted, "You are being paid to kill the Warden-Commander, Crow, not court him!"

“Yes, yes, such a harsh taskmaster you are." He guided Theron’s chin up with the dagger. "Although, I must say, I am rather reluctant to kill such a handsome man."

Theron smirked, “You flatter me.”

“But unfortunately, our contract was binding, was it not?” she said impatiently. “Kill him.”

Sky (from The Day the Sky Broke - a quick series of snapshots taking place at the inciting incident of Inquisition)

The Warden-Commander of Ferelden was on an expedition far west of the known lands of Thedas. Even as far as his small party of Grey Wardens was from Vigil's Keep and the Frostback Mountains, they witnessed the tear being carved into the sky as the sun rose.

Anders nearly dropped his mug. "What in Andraste's twisted knickers is that?"

Over his drink, Warden-Commander Tabris answered wearily, "With any luck? Someone else's problem."

[shouldaspunastory]

The Muses: Cadence Tabris

Developing early on a keen awareness and concern for the welfare of his fellow elves in the Denerim Alienage, Cadence is easily underestimated. Often an elf of few words, but many thoughts, he will always attempt diplomacy first. When this breaks down, however, he has no trouble putting the skills his mother taught him to use defending those who cannot defend themselves, particularly those he loves, with remarkable ferocity. While the new king of Ferelden is often said to seek his advice, the Warden of the Gray has developed something of a reputation for sometimes making controversial decisions and having a contentious relationship with politics.

[World State Three]

Game decisions/deviations

Companions: Recruited all, Returned Sten's sword, acquired the Grimoire peacefully, Had Majorlaine killed, Helped Alistair find Goldana, Explored Cadash Taig with Shale, Found Wynne's old apprentice, Alistair made king (Remains with Wardens in AU), Completed Morrigan's Dark Ritual himself.

Nature of the Beast: Brokered peace, Brought Cammen & Gheyna together, Saved the Halla, Didn't tell Athras wife's fate, Found Ironbark for Varathorn, Returned Deygan to camp

Broken Circle: Supported the mages, Irving survived, did not agree with Cullen's request

Paragon of her Kind: Defeated Branka, Dagna left to study, Helped Orta join the Assembly, Killed Ruck said he died heroically, Proved Legion of the Dead had noble connections, Helped Zerlinda reconcile with family, Returned tome to Shaparate, Harrowmont rules Orzammar

Warden's Keep: Slayed Sophia, Allowed Avernus to continue ethical experiments.

Denerim: Ser Landry lives, Told Bann Sighard about Oswyn, Brought scrolls to Sister Justine, Helped clear out the Pearl, Handled the Crimson Oars, Gave Alfstanna her brother Immeric's ring, Reutned Amulet to beggar in Alienage

Redcliffe: Helped Redcliffe prepare & fight, Freed Bevin & returned sword, Helped Owen's daughter escape, Conor alive & not possessed, Isolde alive, Bella left to start a brewery

Urn of Sacred Ashes: not poisoned

Landsmeet: Alistair executed Loghain, King Alistair rules (Anora rules in AU where Alistair remains a Warden)

Battle of Denerim: Cadence took the killing blow, survived.

Companions & Advisors

Shianni: Best friends

Sorris: friendly

Alistair: Lovers (Break-up when Alistair is announced for future King)

Wynne: friendly

Zevran: best friends

Leliana: friendly

Sten: ambivalent

Shale: friends

Oghren: frenemies

Morrigan: ambivalent

Anders: Lovers (Slow-burn, friends with benefits to lovers)

Basic Information

Full name: Cadence Tabris Pronouns: They/Them Nicknames: Cady Title: Warden Commander Occupation: Gray Warden Date of Birth: Wintermarch 13, 19 years old at start of DA:O Orientation: demisexual Libido: moderate Religion: agnostic Threat level: 10/10 Their facade of stoicism and tendency to defer to diplomacy first causes others to underestimate them. If it comes to violence, this is often the last mistake they ever make. While their kills are generally quick, this has more to do with efficiency when facing multiple enemies rather than mercy.

Physical Information

Face claim: Avan Jogia Height: 6' 0" Eye color: Hazel Hair color + style: Brunette, down to shoulder-blades with small braids Dominant hand: Left Distinguishing features: Accent + intensity: Ferelden (Denerim), moderate Tattoos: none Scar(s): small scar bisecting the end of their right eyebrow, another on the ridge of their nose, as well as various other minor ones from battling Darkspawn. Piercing(s): Orbital piercings Zevran helped give them Glasses: no

Background Information

Hometown: Denerim Alienage Current residence: Amaranthine Language(s): Kings Tongue Social class: Lower class Education: Limited academics, extensive fighting & Sword-training Parents: Adaia (mother, deceased), Cyrion (father) Siblings: Shianni (cousin, but as good as a sister) Children: none Pets: Bane (Mabari) Adopted?: no

Personality Information

Jung type: ENTP Archetype: The Rebel Enneatype: Eight, The Challenger Moral alignment: skirts the line between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral Temperment: Mercurial Angered by: Bigots, entitled nobility Intelligence type: Intra-personal Neurodivergence(s): n/a

Vices & Habits

Smokes? No Drinks? Occasionally Drugs? Infrequently Violent? Can be Self-Destructive? Not often, although sometimes their temper can get the better of them when they get riled up Hobbies: Playing (and cheating) cards/games of chance, singing/dancing, playing with Bane (his Mabari) Likes: Dogs, cats, music & dancing, putting bigots and bullies in their place Dislikes: Politics, Templars Tic(s): Idly twists, or sometimes braids strands of their hair when bored or anxious

Miscellaneous Information

Zodiac: Eluvia Vice: Wrath Virtue: Courage Element: Earth Mythological creature: Griffons Animal: Honey Badger Mutation: Tainted

[savingthrcw]

About Lily Tabris

My problematic fave's very own about page, Lily Tabris the Warrior Elf from the Denerim alienage in DAO. FC: Younger Elena Satine, I go iconless for the game. Super long Red hair and tattoos on her face.

Triggers: she very blunt speaks of how the noble son of the Arl, Vaughan, intended to use her and the other female elves (on her wedding day too) so while I don't plan on having her dwell too much on it you should obviously blacklist 'noncon references' and all that comes from being abused by humans and bloodsheds.

Wanted interactions: Dragon Age characters. Potentially with other elven-friendly characters too (various videogames, the Witcher, Lord of the Rings). Open to romantic interactions with: Zevran, Alistair, but also chemistry based, she's demi-romantic heterosexual, attracted to elves first, humans, Qunari, less likely to date humans if they aren't super sweet/convincing.

Things about Lily: -she obviously kills Vaughan together with everyone else and takes full blame, sparing Soris from it. Keeps Nelaros ring on her finger as a reminder of what happened -most of the time after the initial adjustment she'll be TRYING to be a part of the group, not just the leader, but she's very awkward about it. She's too blunt, too ready to fight, too unsure of HOW to be nice in the first place, she didn't even have close friends besides her family members before she became like this, but the fact that she always makes sure to find souvenirs and gifts to casually toss in their direction is probably enough to know that she's trying. -extremely prejudiced against humans given their treatment of elves in her alienage. very okay with murder and gore. Whether I write it or not she swears a LOT. -Resting Dead Eyes Face -Demiromantic heterosexual with an attraction that goes elf > human > Qunari but it would take a hell of a convincing or sweet guy to convince her to date a human. Never been in love before. -misses her warrior mother dearly.

DAO Companions -absolutely would sleep with Zevran. Like almost immediately. If a romance happens she'll be the last to know. Zevran may have to spell it out. -Alistair is an exception to her being snapp-y/suspicious of humans/aggressive, he has been too adorable from the beginning for Lily to be able to be mean. She begrudgingly has to be nice. -that said even her aggression goes away if it's not provoked. -Gives more of a shot to non-humans, but if the other companions try hard enough she'll overcome her diffidence. -usually takes Zevran in her party with Wynne for her healing magic and either Shale or Sten for laughs and support when she wants to just go ahead and slaughter bad guys without thinking too much

Chaotic Good/Neutral? -doesn't care about politics, doesn't care about mages vs templars and chantry, about blood magic, apostates, werewolves, demons. Basically: you are a mage who hurts people? You die. Otherwise you are left alone. You are a templar who abuses mages? You die. Otherwise you are fine. You made a pact with a demon and are fine with it? Good luck, not her business. You hurt eleves? you die. You are an innocent person in danger? She'll complain but try to save you. -despite everything she helps people aND HATES THAT SHE CARES -tries to save Connor (sends Morrigan after asking her if she can do it), saves the mages in the Circle, pushes Alistair to be king so he can make a change, kills Loghain herself. -Later she'd be fighting for Elves rights all over Thedas. Would end up fighting the Dalish and killing them because she was lied to about the werewolves. Helps Bhelen. Awakening: -A very quiet and pissed off Warden Commander because Zevran apparently was busy elsewhere and when left by herself she reverts to grumpy as hell. DA2 -Will show up in DA2 to check on Anders despite him not being an elf because she's loyal to people who have fought with her. She doesn't understand half of what happened in Kirkwall but would stand by Fenris wanting to kill the mage who enslaved him AND give safe passage to Anders after he blows up the Chantry because she gets it. DAI -Will show up in DAI because she was contacted by Alistair who told her about weird Callings for all Wardens and wanted to look into it. There since Haven. Diplomatic nightmare so Josephine would keep her busy giving her missions and people to kill. Though it's been ten years and she's somewhat less of a physical menace if not provoked

If she's in a position of follower-advisor -if you are in any way trying to order her around, dominate her, if you basically remind her of the alienage, she will despise you. Either she'll fight you and leave or if she cannot do that she will get away from you anyway. So if she's a companion she can only be one to a friendly Grey Warden who isn't bossy in the slightest. No Hawkes or Inquisitors are allowed to be in direct charge of her or she's out.

[naomifj97]

Details

“—I’ve seen…the ring. Are you…were you married?

—No. But I was betrothed. Duncan didn’t get to tell you the details about my Conscription, didn’t he?”

Or: After Alistair notices a wedding ring in Oriana’s chain, a conversation at camp ensures.

Me, writing more about the Tabris origin and linking it to bonding time with Alistair? More likely than you think. I just love that origin, can't help it. Also, I adore Alistair, our big, cheese-loving man.

Alistair x The Warden, angst, angst and more angst (because, honestly, all origins are kind of gut-wrenching and I'm sure discussing it would be traumatic for any Warden), hurt, comfort, but also beautiful bonding, around 4k words.

Trigger warning: slight mentions of sexual assault, nothing graphic, but please, be safe if the content may be triggering for you <3.

Fic under cut!

Oriana has been strangely quiet since they left Redcliffe.

What they have lived there has been disturbing, truth to be told, but not much more than watching all your comrades be brutally massacred by monsters and end up being the last two survivors, so Alistair is sure there is something else going on his fellow warden’s mind.

They are camped half-way to Lake Calenhad when he finally dares to ask.

—Hey. Something on your mind?

She’s sitting near the fire, gaze lost and knees to her chest, accompanied only by Barkspawn, sleeping soundly at her feet, so lost in her thoughts she jumps a bit in her place when he calls her.

Alistair pouts, ashamed.

—Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.

Oriana shakes her head and gives him her best attempt of a smile.

—It’s fine —she replies before returning to her contemplation of the flames.

She’s doing it again, he notices.

Sometimes, he catches her toying with the chain she wears around her neck, the one that keeps her Warden’s amulet and another tiny, golden object, gaze lost and deep in her thoughts. She’s been doing it a bit more lately, since she talked with that young widow in the town’s Chantry, especially when she thinks no one is looking.

And now, her fingers are tightly locked around that tiny, golden object that shines in the fire’s light, which allows Alistair to finally satisfy his curiosity: that little thing she sometimes plays with is a ring.

A wedding ring, in fact.

He’s puzzled. Puzzled, surprised and a bit uneasy, too, even though he refuses to admit why.

Alistair then realizes he knows very little about Oriana. He knows she was born and raised in the Denerim Alienage, that her mother was an old friend of Duncan’s, and that he had to conscript her for the Grey Wardens because something big had happened to her. They briefly chatted about that before her Joining, and he remembered her telling the King she had killed an Arl’s son for raping her cousin (which he, low-key, approved of), but she didn’t give him any details and he had not insisted. He had hoped to figure out more later, but then the Battle of Ostagar happened and every single plan Alistair had before went down the precipice.

He realizes, with a pang of guilt, he has not really thought about what all that has meant for his partner. She does not usually talk about herself, and he has not made any attempt at learning.

What had Oriana left behind when she had joined the Wardens? And who?

Could she had been married? Was she? Has she left a lover with a promise of returning?

—Alistair?

Oriana is now looking at him, eyes questioning and head titled to the side. She knows he has not heard a word she has said, so she repeats the question:

—You need me for something?

—No, I was just… —Alistair clears his throat, now strangely hoarse—. I was wondering if you were alright. You’ve been very quiet lately, like one of those charming rotting folks took your tongue.

—My tongue is great, though I appreciate your concern —she jokes, winking, but it’s too stiff, too forced, to be real. She’s trying too hard; it doesn’t sound natural. And she knows it. So, she sighs, her feigned smile retreating and returning to a pensive face—. I’m alright. Just a bit shaken. After, you know, the whole “fighting with the undead” and demon-child thing…

Alistair grimaces.

—Yeah. Very creepy, indeed.

He changes the weight off his feet, bouncing from one to another. He’s a bit worn down after the whole day walking, and Oriana notices. Without a word, she shifts to the edge of her folded sleeping bag, making space for him, in a silent invitation he takes with a sigh of content and gratitude.

They sit in silence for a while, simply enjoying the other’s company.

He wants to tell her she doesn’t need to put on a brave face for him. He wants to tell her if she needs to talk, he’s there to listen.

Instead, what leaves his mouth is a bit different:

—I’ve seen…the ring. Are you…were you married?

Oriana tenses and, for one second, Alistair is afraid he’s overstepped. She swallows, slowly and heavily, eyes not meeting his, and he’s sure he has crossed a line. She does not want to talk about it, probably because it’s something very, very painful. If she wanted to, she would have mentioned it, and he is a big loudmouth with zero sense of awareness because he just had to bring it up.

But just as he is about to apologize and run off to hide to the other side of the camp, she sighs and looks at him.

—No. But I was betrothed —Oriana replies, with a smile so sad he feels his heart breaking—. Duncan didn’t get to tell you the details about my Conscription, didn’t he?

He shakes his head, the wound of grief in his chest suddenly reopened and bleeding just by the mention of his mentor. But he holds it together because Oriana looks so sad, and she is so still that worry is all that fills his mind. It’s his time of easing burdens.

She sighs, eyes on his, and asks:

—You wanna hear it?

It sounds like the confession of something horrible. And that only serves to increase his wondering.

He wants to. He feels the thrill of curiosity and the need to know crawling inside him, of course he wants to. But not at all cost.

His reply comes in a soft, hushed whisper, for her ears only:

—Only if you want to talk about it.

Yes. She wants to.

—The day Duncan came to the Alienage was the day of my wedding.

Alistair knows he should have expected something like that. But still, it shakes him. He is dying to ask about her betrothed, more than he should admit, and he definitely has a lot of questions, but he restrains himself. He knows he needs to let her do this on her own terms.

And so, Oriana keeps going, fingers nailed to the golden band in her chain, stroking it with her tips:

—I was supposed to find my cousin, Soris, who was also getting married, and drag him home by the ears so we could dress up and get ready, but we didn't. We stayed outside a bit, just…wandering —she chuckles a bit, with a smirk of longing and mischief that tells Alistair their wandering had involved something related to pranking—. Our fiancés had just arrived, we wanted to say goodbye to our previous routines before introducing ourselves.

That catches his attention. He turns to her, surprise in every inch of his narrowed eyes and frowning brow.

—Introducing? You didn’t know them?

—It was an arranged marriage. We’d never seen or spoke to them before —she explains with a shrug—. Is not uncommon in Alienages. There, you know, everybody knows each other and a lot of us are related. Our communities are small. So sometimes our hahren speaks with the hahren of another Alienage to concert marriages, bring new faces and new blood to the place.

—I… didn’t know that.

He didn’t know and would have never imagined it. He thought arranged marriages were tied to nobles and exigences of blood and alliances, one of those few things in which commoners were luckier.

Oriana makes a soft “humpf”.

—Not a lot of people do. My father had secured me an alliance with a blacksmith of Highever. Nelaros, was his name —her voice cracks a bit, so slightly it wouldn’t have been noticeable to anyone but he—. I didn’t really have a chance of refusing, though I did try. I believe he was trying to ease me —she adds after a minor pause, in such a resigned, almost caring way, that only adds heartbreak to the situation.

It takes Alistair a few seconds to understand she means her father, but that’s all he understands. He turns to his fellow Warden, arms crossing over his chest.

—Easing you? By getting you married?

Why would anyone think that? Why would anyone want that?

Oriana pouts and makes a vague gesture with her hands. At that time at night she no longer wears her leather gloves and Alistair finds himself noticing her fingers are long and gracile.

—I think he expected I’d calm down. I was a bit of a troublemaker back home, never shut up —Oriana chuckles, for real for the first time in the conversation—. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to settle in, have children, become a bit less…wild.

He frowns. Barkspawn grunts, changes positions and keeps snoring, her snout against Oriana’s calve; both Wardens ignore her.

—I don’t think that’s possible. Or desirable, by that matter —Alistair adds, softly and awkwardly nudging her shoulder with his—. Your wildness is part of you, as are your big loud mouth, your ability to attract problems and that thing you do with your nose when you send someone to bit the dust.

He can’t really imagine an Oriana who is not fumbling and constantly laughing, shining bright as the fire in front of them and solving problems either with her loquacity or her sword. She smiles first; then, makes a face that would be funnier in other circumstances.

—Yes, but in an Alienage…you know, it’s better to keep out of trouble. Which I’m not precisely good at —she huffs, because she remembers every single time her father has reprimanded her for not being able to. Then she inhales again, sharply and difficulty, and Alistair knows it’s time to return to the story—. That morning…proved my father’s fears true.

Her face becomes grim, any trace of joy and glee completely erased from her features. The fire caresses them, casting shadows over part of her face.

—Do you know something about the son of the Arl of Denerim?

Vaughan Kendells.

There’s always been rumors about the son of the Arl. Whispers under breaths, murmurs exchanged between merchants and traders in the Denerim Market. Some say he is a bloody lunatic. Others that he is, directly, a monster. Alistair has heard them, but has never wanted to think much about it. However, he has a feeling he’s about to know for sure.

—I’ve heard some rumours, yes.

—All true. His depravity, his brutality, his abuse, all of that is true. Was —she corrects herself with a husky voice—. We ran into him, he was drunk as a bloody barrel, molesting a few women with those bigoted friends of his. I stepped in, and my cousin, Shianni kind of…knocked him out with a bottle of wine.

—I’m sure he deserved it —he replies with disgust.

Oriana nods, rigid; she’s fidgeting with the ring again, and the knees against her chest tight up noticeably.

—He did. But the thing is…he obviously didn’t take it well. He returned when the ceremony had just started. He said…he and his friends wanted to have a good time, so he was taking all the women in the wedding —she shivers, despite being warm enough thanks to the fire. She still can hear his mucky voice, smell his nauseating breath, feel his slimy touch. She gets sick when she thinks about that moment, about him. But she holds back the nausea for the sake of Alistair, sitting at her side and still listening, pale as ash—. Have some fun, the bastard said. And he did.

He manages to answer, voice cracking at the verge of indignation:

—Just…like that?

—Just like that. I didn't even had time to move, or react. He slapped me so hard I was out before I touched the floor.

Alistair feels the sudden urge to punch something. He wants to curse the name of that scumbag, but he does not have time. Oriana keeps going, as if she can’t stop now she has started talking:

—When I woke up, I was on the Arl’s state. My cousin, Shianni was there, as were Nola and Brianna, my bridesmaids, and Valora, Soris’ fiancée —her fingers clench around the golden circle and Alistair knows that, whatever comes now, it’s not good. Her voice shakes, flood with hesitation, embroidered in pain—. The guards came in, started taking us to Vaughan’s quarters one by one. When Nola tried to resist, they sliced her throat.

She’s making an enormous effort not to remember Nola’s body shaking, her blood flowing from her throat and her eyes losing its sparkle, becoming lifeless in the process. But in the silence of the camp, all she hears are her prayers and the last gasping for air she took.

She had grown up with that woman, known her since they were born. And Oriana can’t stop thinking about Tormey, Nola’s father, who didn’t even get back the body of his daughter to properly cry her.

Her arms tense around her legs and her knees are brought closer to her chest, but she does not seem to notice.

Alistair, however, does. And he wants to reach and caress her arm, surround her with his so she knows she’s not alone, but he has a feeling she won’t appreciate being touched right now.

—They saved me for the last —she continues, despite the knot in her throat threatening to suffocate her—. But then Soris showed up, threw me a sword and I guess you know how that part ends.

Alistair nods. He has seen Oriana handle four darkspawn on her own just with her blade and her swift moves; those guards never stood a chance.

She smirks, though there’s nothing but bitterness in that smile.

—I was surprised, honestly. When those things happen, we usually just…hope for the best. I’m sure some people saw it that way. But Nelaros, my…fiancé, refused to let things roll. So he and Soris infiltrated the place trying to rescue us. Duncan gave them arms.

Alistair can see that as if he had been there. Duncan, providing gear and a plan to infiltrate the castle despite the fact that he was supposed not to mingle in those kind of affairs. He was no man to turn his back on people who needed help.

Holding onto Duncan’s memory almost allows him to overlook the raw, terrifying reality Oriana has just made mention to, of man rallying her home to take and destroy. And worse, of people not being able to do anything but hope those who are taken return, no matter in which shape they do it.

He does not want to think about it. So, he nods, encouraging Oriana to go ahead, and the look she gives him is so full of guilt he suddenly understands how she knows his own so well.

—We were supposed to reach Nelaros, rescue the others and get out of there as soon as possible but when we found him…well, it was too late. I was late —she takes a deep breath, trying to recompose herself, trying not to drown in the memory of her fiancé in a puddle of his own blood, of her cousin half-naked, brutally beaten and ravished on the top of a carpeted floor, of her childhood friend with her clothes teared apart by a group of men—. And I was late to help Shianni. And Brianna. When I got to Kendall’s room…it had already happened.

Her words fumble in the quiet air of the camp like the dust after a bombing. Alistair can feel the bile running up his throat at high speed, and swallows it with huge difficulty.

He knows what it’s coming next. He remembers Oriana telling Cailan why she had been forced to join the Wardens, and, after the story she’s telling him, he can’t say he does not understand her actions.

She stares at him and there’s disarray in her eyes, but also a rage like no one else he’s seen in her.

—I killed him. Without the slightest regret or hesitation. And I killed all his guards on my way out —she hesitates, eyes on his, a pang of unsettling at the memory, at the thought of herself as an enraged animal—. You've seen me kill before, Alistair. But what I did that day…that was carnage. I was so furious and so terrified, and so angry I did not even think about those men, their families or the fact that they may not know what was going on. To me, they were all accomplices. I did not think. I just slayed.

He can’t find in his heart to blame her. He’s certain he would have done the same.

Now, Alistair is starting to understand why she has been thinking about all this lately. The Battle of Redcliffe has also being a carnage; flesh of the dead, but a terrific rampage anyway. They have also had to fight their way inside a castle, and, by experience, Alistair knows how similar all nobles’ houses and states can be.

Oriana does not mention it, however, because she’s sure he’s seeing the similarities. She’s also scared to death he’ll start looking at her and see a murderer, a victim, a broken, lunatic thing. But all there’s in his eyes is understanding, and he is a bit shaken, yes, but the story is too disturbing not to be. So, she keeps going:

—When I returned to the Alienage, I knew the whole community would be punished for what I had done, start another purge or something worse. So I took the blame. All of it. Pinched my cousin so hard I’m sure I made him bleed so he didn’t talk —she smiles weakly despite the memory, because she’s been laughing at Soris’ “ow, shit, they’ve caught us” face since they were children and she just can’t help it—. They were about to take me to whipping, or something worse, when Duncan interfered.

—And he conscripted you.

—And he conscripted me —she reaffirms, nodding beside Alistair’s gaze—. The guards were not happy, but nobody wanted to oppose to a Grey Warden. He saved my life.

That’s another thing they have in common, Alistair thinks, and he can’t help but wonder if she also feels it, that connection between them, tying them in the shape of lived traumas and spilled blood.

No, he corrects himself. He would never dare to simplify Oriana’s pain like that. He had gone through bad things, but nothing as bad as all that.

He can’t help but wonder how much of all she has done since they met has been because she’s been trying to make up for her actions.

With surprisingly steady fingers, Oriana pulls her chain off her neck and hands him the golden ring. He takes it, pounders the weight on his fingers. Despite what it represents, despite the heavy memory it embodies, is light. Lighter than he expected.

—I picked this from Nelaros’ body in the hallway —she whispers, and Alistair’s heart clutches at the hurt in her voice—. It was supposed to be my wedding ring, though I guess you’ve already figured that out.

Yes, he has. It has her and her dead betrothed’s name engraved.

—You’ve been wearing it since that day I imagine.

It’s a silly question, because the answer is obvious, but he wants her to keep talking, taking it all out from her system. She nods. Then, she swallows, her eyes wandering over the flames.

—When I talked to that woman, in the Chantry, I thought of him. I’ve been trying not to —when she sighs, the air that comes out from her lips is wretched and teary—. He died because he tried to do the right thing. We didn’t know each other very much. We had exchanged maybe three phrases. But he was a good man. And he did not deserve to bleed to death in the floor like an animal.

She was hoping not to break down. But that story, her story, may be one that can’t be told without breaking. And when the first tear falls, despite she dries it off furiously with her hand, she finds out breaking down in front of Alistair is not such a dreary ending for the tale.

When he sees her cry, Alistair buries his fear of doing the wrong thing and makes a choice. Slowly, he places a careful hand on her shoulder, gives her both, time and space to reject it or move away, but Oriana leans onto it like it’s the only thing keeping her steady. He chooses his words carefully, searching for her eyes, those big, bright, beautiful eyes of hers.

—Even if you didn’t know him well, you have a right to mourn him. To mourn what you lost, what could have been.

Oriana shakes her head.

—I do not mourn what could have been. I just…I… —she buries her head in her hands for a few seconds, just enough to pull it together—. I did not want that wedding. I did not want to get married, kiss a husband I barely knew, have his kids and raise a family in the Alienage. I’m not cut out to stay still and live quietly, and anyone who knows me a bit knows that. Joining the Grey Wardens, for me, was an out of all that. But the price was the life of a man who was not to blame for any of that —the tears return, this time stronger and unstoppable—. And I feel…I feel horrible. Because despite everything that happened that day, despite his death, and Nola’s, and all those men I murdered…I felt free. When I ripped that wedding dress out of my body, when I placed my sword on my back, when I arrived at Ostagar, when I met you… I felt free.

She has been punishing herself for all that, Alistair realizes. And he wants to tell her she shouldn’t, because she’s done too much good, and she doesn’t deserve that burden, and she has paid a prize, too, for that freedom. He wants to tell her that if she’s being selfish, he’s been too, because meeting her was also freeing and bright, despite all the pain and tragedy that came after, and they can be self-loathing, guilt-ridden idiots together.

But he is a bit of a chicken, so, instead, he says something different, something that’s also true:

—Well… I think that whatever price you thought you had to pay, you have already paid it —she opens her mouth to argue, but Alistair has already a bit of practice on seeing her stubbornness coming, so he goes on before she can—. I mean, how terrible is that the closest thing you perceive as freedom is leaving behind everything you know, drinking darkspawn blood and ending up being a fugitive to the whole Ferelden all while trying to end an invasion of monsters with the sole assistance of a bunch of weird, odd outcasts? That sounds like punishment enough.

She laughs; it’s quiet, and small, and low, and she’s still teary-eyed, but it’s enough to make his heart jump in his chest.

—We are not odd. We are…picturesque.

His turn to chuckle.

—Your opinion, not mine —he jokes, and she shakes her head with undeniable affection and the ghost of a smile in her lips. He sighs, softly caressing her shoulder with his thumb. He knows is probable his words are taken by the wind never to be thought about again, but Maker, he needs to try—. Oriana… You went through a lot that day. You tried to defend yourself, and your people. Everything you did, you did it because of that. What happened that day is not your fault. You were attacked. You were assaulted. You did not deserve it. You don’t deserve it.

She is about to cry. She’s certain of it. Because of everything that happened, because of all the wounds that day left behind in her, that have not healed properly. They probably never will.

But she doesn’t. Because Alistair is there with her, his big hand on her shoulder, tying her to reality and to herself; his eyes are sweet, loving and understanding, and the small, quiet smile he gives her is so different to any other he has given her to date that, suddenly, she feels a bit better.

She’s tired. So tired. Cautiously, she leans towards him until the side of her body finds his, her head resting over his forearm. He’s warm, and safe, and comfortable, and he smells like leather, sweat and pine needles, and she finds herself thinking he feels a bit like a home, too.

Alistair thanks the fire and the darkness of the night for dissimulating and hiding his blush respectively. He knows he’s a bit tense, because he is not used to physical contact, but it is a heavily pleasant feeling. It doesn’t take long until he relaxes against her body, just like hers does, curled up towards his own. He hasn’t felt so at peace in a long time.

—Thank you… For listening —she mumbles against the leather of his shoulder plate, free from the armor at that time of night.

He just lets his head rest on the top of hers and replies in a whisper for her ears only:

—Thank you for telling me.

She does not deserve anything that happened, and she does not deserve to feel guilty about it.

He knows that.

Maybe, one day, she may believe it, too.

A/N: I love them, Your Honor. And I love drama, exploring traumas and describing healing processes.

Writing this was incredibly satisfying because while I really like humorous pieces like A lamppost in winter, I also believe there's something very powerful about watching Alistair and the Warden bonding over their tragedies and grief; I think that makes them even closer, as opening your heart to another person, letting them see the darkest places of you and hoping they would understand you, accept you and love you regardless is a layer of intimacy deeply personal and raw. Also, I must admit I believe I'm way better at writing drama.

Anyway, hope you liked it!

Also! Job interview tomorrow! Wish me luck!

[heniareth]

Hey :) I was thinking, if you feel like it, I would love to know more about your warden :D I already read that post you made about how their mother might have been a pirat at some point? And thought that was pretty cool! I would love to know more about them, like backstory, personality, any other headcanons you may have. Just, whatever you would like to share :) (Also, do you have a screenshot? :D)

But no pressure of course :) Only if you want to :) And feel free to take your time with answering :)

OMG this is so very exciting!!! Thank you for this ask *u*

This is a long-ish one, and therefore it gets a cut.

My Warden’s name is Astala Tabris (in the first playthrough she was called Estela). I take precious few screenshots, but here are some of my favourites (in the Brecilian Forest and at Ostagar):

I tried to choose her looks based on her parents’ features. She has a similar facial structure to her father, but her mother’s complexion

So yeah. About her (in no specific order):

She’s 22 by the time the events of DAO start. I imagine her to be slightly taller than Zevran (171-ish? Is Zevran considered tall for an elf?). She appears to be a bit smaller, tho, because she slouches (she doesn’t like to stand out). She’s a city elf from Denerim, and I don’t know whether I want her to have worked at the docks or in a tavern at the waitress before becoming a Grey Warden. Maybe first one, then the other? Maybe she’s holding two jobs at the same time? I am leaning towards the waitress thing tho, because she does have a "customer service voice". It's not exactly a bubbly cheerful "Hi! Welcome to the Rusty Anchor :D". It's calm, controlled, and extremely neutral. When she speaks in this way, she never raises her voice. She mainly uses it to deal with humans.

Before Astala became a Grey Warden:

She lived in a two-room flat in the Denerim alienage with her father and her cousins Shianni and Soris (who are basically her siblings at this point and who you get to meet even when you’re not a city elf I think). Her mother got taken by humans when she was nine. That was the event that would shape her whole life. Astala was present for the whole thing, and ever since that day, the world has been scary and humans even scarier (if they are able to take her mother, who is well able to defend herself, who will they not take?). She’s also not very fond of mabari because of this, and Rascal is the only dog one she learns to trust. Her relationship with her parents is complicated, even though she loves them dearly. She harbors resentment against her mother because she left her willingly with the humans instead of fighting, and against her father because he was unable to help her come to terms with her mother’s disappearance. She knows that her mother probably did the right thing, and that her father had his own grief to contend with at the time. Still, the feeling is there; she hates it, but can’t seem to let it go. Last, her mother’s disappearance spurred her to try and save Shianni from some humans when her cousin got abducted. This ultimately led to Duncan recruiting Astala.

The thing about Astala’s mother being a pirate

This comes from a headcanon of mine. Denerim has a harbour, and as such probably sees its fair share of crime and smuggling. There’s a headcanon going around that Adaia Tabris might have been a Night Elf (a guerrilla troupe of elf archers led by Loghain during the rebellion against the Orlesians). I really like that headcanon, but of course, that rebellion ended 30 years before the events of DAO. Adaia would have had to do something in the time between 9:00 and 9:17 Dragon (which is when she disappeared). The Night Elves’ contribution to the Fereldan rebellion “appear to be largely lost to history and their fate unknown” (why doesn’t that surprise me?). I imagine Adaia with her martial skills and a family to take care of, would try to find a more lucrative job than the one your normal city elf could get. So she became part of a smuggling ring. She made good money, but it ultimately lead to her death during a crackdown on piracy and other criminal activities within the Denerim alienage. Neither Astala nor Cyrion know anything about this, and it’s highly unlikely they will ever find out. So far my headcanon.

Back to Astala:

She loves plum cakes and watching the waves crash against the Denerim harbour on a stormy day. She sings while she works, puts flowers in her hair on special occasions, and will wear any garment she has until it is torn beyond repair and then save the scraps that still hold together for future use (she is a hoarder). Screaming puts her on edge, as do untidy people and itchy clothing. In any given situation, she is very biased to favour the underdog or any elf; this sometimes blinds her to the truth of what’s going on in front of her. She can be terribly stubborn and would rather die (or doom the whole group, if pushed) than leave somebody she cares about behind. She has a bit of a saviour complex. She can come across as arrogant at times, and she sets very high standards for herself. Her biggest fears are being a disappointment, and dying. She would love to have a future where she can settle down with somebody she loves and never has to worry about money, humans, or working in a tavern ever again. The Blight seems intent on not letting her have that and she resents it for that.

Last, have a moodboard and a little bit of writing:

“And look.” Astala pointed over to the qunari, who was currently being greeted by a very enthusiastic mabari. “Rascal likes him.”

“Oh. We’re leaving our decisions to the dog now?” Alistair crossed his arms.

“Are you Fereldan, yes or no?” Astala shot back.

Alistair scoffed, but dropped his arms and sighed. “I suppose a trained soldier could be useful.”

“There we go,” Astala smiled.

Alistair shook his head. “So you finally named the dog?”

“Yup,” Astala nodded.

Alistair nodded along. “And Rascal was your first option?”

“You have a better one?” Astala cocked her eyebrow at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Alistair shrugged. “People just tend to give their mabaris majestic names. You know, as befitting to the breed.”

“Rascal is a perfectly fine name,” Astala said and turned up her nose in mock offense. “He’s a survivor. Just like me.”

“Well, let’s hope that lasts,” Alistair deadpanned.

And this is Astala ^^ I hope this was an enjoyable read. I had tons of fun putting this together. I you want to know more about her, feel free to let me know. And if you want to tell me about your own Warden, you bet I’d love to hear it! So please tell me

Seriously, thanks for the ask, I had a ton of fun with this XD

[catella-ars]

~Choose a Companion!~

Niamh MacNeil Human Templar (Vanguard) A little lost after the destruction of her Circle, she has now pledged herself to protect mages and others put at risk by the civil war, rifts, etc. Skills: Combat, Clarity Equipment: Avenger, Charm of Still Waters, Modified Templar Plate Companion Ability: Knows everything there is to know about Andrastian practices, Chantry history, Templar training, Mage Circles, and related issues, and can help you navigate both locations and conversation.

Saarebas Meraad Qunari Mage (Storm) A little lost after the death of her arvaraad and subsequent inability to contact the rest of her people, she has since pledged herself to seeing all there is to see in the world (and sometimes follow Niamh around.) Skills: Coercion, Vitality Equipment: Stormbreak, Belt of the Elements, Cretahl Vitaar Companion Ability: She’s a 7′7″ Qunari mage with tattoos, scars, and broken horns. There are very few mortals immune to her intimidation.

Valron Tabris Elf Ranger (Double Daggers) The Warden-Commander of Ferelden, known to go on weird rumor-chasing adventures while leaving Alistair in charge. This man has a child? Skills: Coercion, Combat Equipment: Duncan’s Sword, Fang, Morrigan’s Ring Companion Ability: Having gone on so many quests and wild goose chases, he is very good at helping you decide what leads to pursue and in what order.

Laurel Amell Human Mage (Spirit) A powerful Warden mage who left Ferelden with his boyfriend after the Fifth Blight and might have never looked back. Skills: Herbalism, Clarity Equipment: Enchanter’s Staff, Ring of Ages, Zevran’s Earring Companion Ability: Very good and quick with healing. You are never gonna die with him around.

[curiousthimble]

Wip Wednesday

I was tagged by @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold and @kunstpause, so I'm going to share a bit I wrote earlier this morning with Zevran and Kallian Tabris from The Wrong Warden. If you've been following along, you'll know that this isn't their first meeting, but it seems to be going much better for Zevran than the last time.

I'm going to leave the tags open for anyone who wants to grab it, since I'm sure Manka has already tagged you lol

“It’s said that you killed the arl’s son for her,” he says, nodding toward Shianni.

Kallian’s body stiffens and she lowers her head, staring at a gold ring on her right hand. “Not just Shianni,” she whispers.

Zevran puts a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looks up to give her a sad, understanding smile. “I am sorry, Kallian. His loss was hard, I see.”

She blinks quickly, clenching her jaw. “It was...the potential,” she says. “He was a good person. He deserved better than me.”

The words were a dagger in his heart, and Zevran boldly lifted her chin and looked directly into her blue eyes. “I don’t believe that,” he says softly. “You are a fierce woman who—”

“Can we save the flirting for later?” she asks, her voice sharp. “I’d rather not talk about my dead fiance in one breath and have you take up the next one with flattery.”

Zevran glares at her. “You are a rude woman,” he retorts. “I was not flirting. If I were, we would be half-naked and—”

“How about I give you a ladder?” she snaps. “I have enough on my shoulders right now, the last thing I need is to be seduced by some pretty boy hero when my father is missing.”

His jaw drops, leaving his mouth hanging open while she pushes off the post and stalks over to Hera and Alistair. The shock fades quickly, however, replaced by a charming grin. “She thinks I’m pretty and a hero,” he murmurs. “Point to Zevran.”

[hanatsuki89]

OC: Amelia Tabris

Age: 23 Height: 158 Sexuality: Bisexual Class: Rogue, dual-wielding Specialization: Assassin. She chooses that because it’s the closest to the set of skills she already has. No poison-making, she mainly focuses on trap-making and locks. 5 random facts about her personality: - keeps her feelings close to her chest - mostly rational and calculating. She’s lost her calm a handful of times and even then it was the cold type of anger, not the “yelling” one. - she doesn’t like attention on herself so she deflects on others (which is why Wynne and Alistair’s roasting about her relationship makes her uncomfortable until she lashes out) - she’s a slow-trust person, but still an “innocent until proven wrong” kind of mentality - she has high persuasion skills, she rarely intimidates 5 random facts about her: - she doesn’t smile much, but her eyes are really expressive. - she keeps wearing Nelaros’ ring - her favourite gift would be ornate knives (I know, I know). Or bracers (the kind with carvings on them) - she likes playing with people’s hair - she can be a little s**t, like purposefully smiling in a cutesy way when she thanks Morrigan just to see her stutter or making an innuendo after the third time Wynne has talked her out of her relationship. Love Interest: Zevran Did she have other relationships?: No, she only had brief involvements with a couple of girls in the Alienage. Companion she spends most time with: Leliana Templars or mages?: Mages. After the Archdemon’s defeat: Tabris becomes Warden Commander and keeps the position for a while. Then she appoints Nathaniel and goes in search for a cure for the Calling. Whenever she can, she is seen in Antiva. Happiest ending you can think of for her?: Optimistically, they find a cure and she can live more than those thirty years (although everything catches up to her more quickly than it would have without the whole Warden business). She spends the rest of her life with Zevran, helping him on the sidelines or traveling.

[prince-everhard]

Prince’s Whumptober 2020 masterpost

Gonna have links, titles, summaries, and all that jazz under a readmore because i decided to really push myself and do all 31 prompts separately. Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged my work; your support means the world to me and makes me want to keep writing! 

multiparters here have been listed in chronological order rather than posting order for ease of reading. 

FAHC

No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging

Title: another duck joins the flock Fandom: FAHC Character(s): Geoff, Michael Rating: T Warning(s): blood, handcuffs Wordcount: 728 Summary: Or how the Fakes gained their most famous muscle. [tidied up/expanded this never-to-be-posted fahc wip for whumptober]

Naruto

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

Title: and the worst part of waiting is the anticipation Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Team 7 Rating: T Warning(s): blood, vomit Wordcount: 951 Summary: Team Seven gets captured. [part of the whumptober au]

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Title: A Teaching Moment Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto Rating: T Warning(s): none Wordcount: 498 Summary: Kabuto makes her an offer she can’t refuse. [part of the whumptober au]

No 29. I THINK I NEED A DOCTOR Intubation | Emergency Room | Reluctant Bedrest

Title: Graduation Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Sakura, Kabuto, Rating: T+? Warning(s): blood Wordcount: 835 Summary: Kabuto has one more test before Sakura can be considered a true medic-nin. [part of the whumptober au]

No 15. INTO THE UNKNOWN Possession | Magical Healing | Science Gone Wrong

Title: Arboreal Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Sakura Rating: T Warning(s): needles Wordcount: 803 Summary: It was only a matter of time before Sakura found something that could help her escape. [part of the whumptober au]

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Title: no good deed goes unpunished Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Naruto, Teuchi, Kyuubi Rating: T Warning(s): violence against children Wordcount: 972 Summary: Something goes wrong on his seventh birthday. Naruto might never be the same again.

No 26. IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD… Migraine | Concussion | Blindness

Title: Degradation Fandom: Naruto Character(s): Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto Rating: T Warning(s): dismemberment ment Wordcount: 187 Summary: Kakashi knows that power comes with a price.

Dragon Age

No 6. PLEASE…. “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

Title: Like Dogs Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Tabris, Shianni, Soris, Nelaros Rating: M Warning(s): implied/offscreen rape, violence against women, blood Wordcount: 1640 Summary: It was supposed to be a good thing, getting married. It wasn’t. [this is really just a love letter to the origin that fucking shooketh me]

No 19. BROKEN HEARTS Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt

Title: all’s fair but war is not without casualties Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Cousland, Alistair; ex-Alistair/Warden Rating: T Warning(s): none Wordcount: 695 Summary: Ten years after the Blight ends, Elissa Cousland runs into someone she never thought she’d see again. It, uh, doesn’t go quite as planned. [mostly canon compliant; Loghain is spared and becomes a warden]

No 11. PSYCH 101 Defiance | Struggling | Crying

Title: Duty Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Cousland, Eleanor, Bryce Rating: T Warning(s): blood, betrayal, last stand Wordcount: 633 Summary: Even without interference, history marches on. A what-if scenario if Duncan wasn’t there to recruit the Cousland. [part of iron & ash]

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Title: To Ostagar Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Cousland Rating: T Warning(s): none Wordcount: 545 Summary: Jasmine is determined to get vengeance for her family. [part of iron & ash]

No 14. IS SOMETHING BURNING? Branding | Heat Exhaustion | Fire

Title: Consequences Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Surana Rating: T Warning(s): none Wordcount: 368 Summary: Surana helps her best friend escape the Circle, and the consequences are more than she bargained for.

No 21. I DON’T FEEL SO WELL Chronic Pain | Hypothermia | Infection

Title: Corrupted Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Mahariel, Duncan Rating: Gen Warning(s): none Wordcount: 192 Summary: It’s a long journey from the Brecilian Forest to Ostagar for someone with blight sickness.

No 31. TODAY’S SPECIAL: TORTURE Experiment | Whipped | Left for Dead

Title: Big Sister Instinct Fandom: Dragon Age Character(s): Female Hawke, Unnamed Templars Rating: T Warning(s): torture, violence against women Wordcount: 325 Summary: Marian Hawke would rather die than betray her family. She might even just get the chance to do it.

Mass Effect

No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

Title: never forget to bury your regret (before it buries you) Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Male Shepard, Human OC Rating: T Warning(s): cave-in, blood, character death Wordcount: 450 Summary: Survival training goes south in the ICT.

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

Title: First Contact Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Turian OC, Human OC Rating: T Warning(s): injuries, broken bones, vomit, vehicular crash Wordcount: 1150 Summary: Decimus isn’t ready to die, but he’s especially not ready to die on a stupid scouting mission to a stupid alien colony. [set during the First Contact War; probably not canon-compliant but idgaf]

No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO Panic Attacks | Phobias | Paranoia

Title: what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger (and what does makes you scarred forever) Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard, Edi, Tali’Zorah, Garrus Vakarian Rating: T Warning(s): panic attack, open space Wordcount: 662 Summary: Shepard isn’t afraid of getting spaced. No, really. [a closer look at the geth dreadnought mission]

No 28. SUCH WOW. MANY NORMAL. VERY OOPS. Accidents | Hunting Season | Mugged

Title: Torfan Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard, Major Kyle Rating: T Warning(s): blood, guns, drugging Wordcount: 589 Summary: How the Butcher came to be.

No 25. I THINK I’LL JUST COLLAPSE RIGHT HERE, THANKS Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears

Title: Rest Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s)/Pairing(s): Female Shepard, Anderson; referenced Shepard/Vega Rating: T Warning(s): blood, character death Wordcount: 1018 Summary: A father-daughter moment after they open the arms of the Citadel. [part of Alder]

No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue

Title: they found you on the floor Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard Rating: T Warning(s): alcohol, vomit, underage drinking Wordcount: 348 Summary: Like mother like daughter; Shepard deals with her trauma after Mindoir. [part of Gloria Shepard]

No 22. DO THESE TACOS TASTE FUNNY TO YOU? Poisoned | Drugged | Withdrawal

Title: there’s easier ways to die Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard, Ashley Williams Rating: T Warning(s): DTs, vomit mention Wordcount: 368 Summary: Shepard takes a stand against her own demons. [part of Gloria Shepard]

No 17. I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING Blackmail | Dirty Secret | Wrongfully Accused

Title: you crawled up on your cross Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard, Jacob Taylor Rating: T Warning(s): alcohol Wordcount: 645 Summary: Shepard gets a morale boost from a crewmate. [part of Gloria Shepard]

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Title: Cornered Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard Rating: T Warning(s): broken bones Wordcount: 1281 Summary: Garrus gets into some trouble. [part of the omega non-reaper au]

No 20. TOTO, I HAVE A FEELING WE’RE NOT IN KANSAS ANYMORE Lost | Field Medicine | Medieval

Title: Ancient History Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Female Shepard, Garrus Rating: T Warning(s): injuries, death, self-destructive/suicidal actions Wordcount: 1223 Summary: Jane is an enigma and Garrus just wants to figure her out. [part of the omega non-reaper au]

No 8. WHERE DID EVERYBODY GO? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

Title: After Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s): Garrus, Female Shepard Rating: T Warning(s): injuries, death Wordcount: 440 Summary: Jane comes for Garrus after the gangs’ assault. [part of the omega non-reaper au]

No 30. NOW WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury | Internal Organ Injury

Title: Debt Fandom: Mass Effect Character(s)/Pairing(s): Garrus, Female Shepard, Mordin; mutual pining Shakarian Rating: T Warning(s): painkillers Wordcount: 590 Summary: After the gangs’ assault, Garrus overhears something. [part of the omega non-reaper au]

Undertale

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

Title: Drowning Fandom: Undertale Character(s): Toriel, Asgore Rating: T Warning(s): character death, child death Wordcount: 156 Summary: Asriel brought Chara home one last time.

[replacing no. 27] Alt 7. Found Family

Title: The Door Fandom: Undertale Character(s): Frisk, Papyrus, Sans Rating: Gen Warning(s): none Wordcount: 357 Summary: Just a little look at what could be a meeting with Gaster

Red vs Blue

No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

Title: Being a twin is a Hard Thing Fandom: Red vs Blue Character(s): South Dakota Rating: T Warning(s): psychological trauma Wordcount: 281 Summary: In the days before Wash finds them, South gets… introspective. [canon compliant? taken from a wip I was never going to finish so I fleshed it out for whumptober instead]

Original Fiction

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

Title: please leave a message Rating: T Warning(s): blood Wordcount: 537 Summary: A detective’s work is never done. Antonia deals with the news that her most famous case’s subject is on the run again. [original fiction]

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

Title: Secondary Location Rating: Gen? Warning(s): kidnapping Wordcount: 143 Summary: Antonia wakes up on the wrong side of the city. [original fiction]

[5lazarus]

Winter in Amaranthine, Ch. 4: Oghren

Summary: The Wardens' companions decide to leave, and Warden-Commander Arana Mahariel cannot find a reason good enough to tell them no. Meanwhile, letters between the Warden and Leliana get lost in translation, and Arana makes it worse. Chapter 4, Oghren: Oghren sobers the Warden up.

Read on AO3 here. On Tumblr, read here for Justice & Anders, here for Velanna & Sigrun, and here for Nathaniel Howe.

She stays in her office all night drinking. Arana sits at her desk and sips slowly at her tumbler, enjoying the warp of the fire in the high-priced Serault glass. She is perhaps the only Dalish elf to ever have the privilege to drink from glassware normally preserved for the Divine and Her Holiness’ followers. They had been sent to the Divine as a bribe from the notoriously eccentric Marquis de Serault and waylaid by Leliana. Remembering that, Arana’s hand tightens around the glass and she contemplates smashing it, as she has smashed most of the relationships in her life. But she is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and the Arlessa of Amaranthine, and it looks bad enough that she is drunk--she does not want to imagine what the servants would say, if they had to clean up glass worth several years of their salary. Instead of breaking it, she tops up her glass. She wakes up to the cool seabreeze whistling outside of her open office window, gulls crying out for bread. Blearily she pulls her head off her desk, cheek sticking slightly to the surface. Her head is heavy but the hangover has not begun to ring through her yet. Arana wrinkles her nose: coffee in a silver pot, embossed with the Warden crest, steams before her, with an equally beautiful silver cup. “Drink up,” Oghren says. “You’re gonna need it.”

She fixes him with a red-eyed stare. Did she cry last night? She should have, if she didn’t. “Food?” she asks. They have done this before, the two of them, after they killed Branka, after Alistair left, and then Leliana. Oghren grunts. “Enough to tide you over,” he says. “Servant’ll be bringing it up, not me.” Ashara snorts. “Distinctions of rank must be preserved,” she says drily. “You want a cup? I imagine you brought your own.”  A servant knocks on the door and brings in a hefty rasher of bacon, thickly-sliced, and three eggs fried in the grease, along with a shot glass of a mysterious green liquid. Ashara raises an eyebrow at Oghren. “Pickle juice,” Oghren grunts. “Works every time. Now get eating, we have to get to the city by noon.” “You don’t give me orders, Warden,” Ashara says, and laughs when Oghren rolls his eyes. “Fine. Enjoy your hangover. I’ll take the bacon.” Oghren feints towards the food, and Ashara waves him off. She eats, feeling her flesh gradually restore around her bones, and takes that shot of pickle juice. It is all surprisingly good. “No hair of the dog?” she says. “That’s a road you don’t want to go down,” Oghren says. “Trust me. Been trying to walk back up it for three months.” He grins at her. “Three months sober today. Sister Nightingale sent me a pretty little amulet to wear. Silver. Supposed to ward off poison.” He laughs. “‘Nuff poison I’ve thrown into myself. And out.” “You’ve been corresponding,” Arana says flatly. She sips her coffee. Leliana has been corresponding personally with Oghren, but has not bothered to send her a letter in months. She is furious--how can she find Oghren more pleasant to talk to than her? Did her letter anger her that much? She could have at least written her back, rather than turning her quill towards other people--to Oghren, of all people. Arana tolerates Oghren, and sometimes she even likes him--she has grown to respect him, after he joined the Wardens and apologized to Felsi, and she knows sobriety is not easy. Still, out of everyone left at Vigil’s Keep, one would think she rates higher than that fool. But Leliana has always liked a good redemption story, especially if she can prompt it. Arana scowls again. Oghren snorts at the look on her face. “Aye,” hen said. “And that’s why I’m taking you on a walk.” “Is this an intervention? I’m not a drunk, Oghren. Not like you--were.” “Andraste’s tits,” he says. “You’re not a drunk like me, no, and you haven’t puked away all your opportunities and shat on all your loved ones--” “You shat on Felsi?” Arana interrupts. Arana occasionally finds Oghren’s stories reassuring: it is always nice to know that someone has fucked up more than she ever can. Oghren pauses. “No!” He considers it. “Maybe. Her doorstep, more like it.” “And she answers your letters.” Arana leans back in her chairs and downs her coffee. Leliana doesn’t answer her letters, and Arana has never even drooled on her, let alone shat on her doorstep. “Sweet Sylaise, that woman has the patience of a Keeper.” Oghren snorts. “She doesn’t answer my letters, but she certainly cashes the notes I send her. You good? You drank your coffee? You gonna eat that? Let’s go.” They leave the keep quietly. The keep is bustling as usual, with the trainers and the recruits and the cooks and the cleaners running about. Arana catches sight of Ser Pounce watching from a young tree she planted, that passes as a Vhenadahl, and she stops a second. Ser Pounce cocks his head at her and mews. He looks very well-fed. “He hasn’t been hunting the Blighted rats, has she?” she asks anxiously. “I do not want Anders to hear we poisoned his cat.” Oghren says, “Ser Pounce took out a hurlock alpha. Think he’s immune to the Blight at this point, Commander.” Ser Pounce lets out a meow, and disappears into the leaves. Arana hopes he has not been pissing on the tree. They move off the main road to avoid listeners, and because Arana deeply craves the woods, the feel of the living earth under her soles, and the whisper of the lost that press against the almost sheer Veil, trying to get their stories heard. They trudge along in silence for the first hour. Oghren hums to himself. He is not a particularly good singer, Arana well knows, but she enjoys having company. They meander, and Arana loses herself in the cool gray copse that acts as a natural barrier between Vigil’s Keep and anyone avoiding the King’s Road. When they are far  from Vigil’s Keep but still an hour  from Amaranthine City, Oghren finally speaks up. “You been getting a lot of mail lately.” “Yes,” Arana says. “I have certainly been filing my dispatches.” Oghren looks at her sideways. “Dispatches,” Oghren says. “From ol’ King Alistair, from that warden from Clan Lavellan, maybe even one or two from Tabris. But nothing from Surana, or Brosca, or Zevran, or Leliana even. Except that one, right? From the batch that came in before Anders left.” “Are you reading my mail?” Arana says, annoyed. Her hand reaches for her sword handle. “Fen’Harel take you, dwarf, those letters contain sensitive information, and you are enough of a drunk--” Oghren raises both hands. “Three months sober,” he emphasizes. “Since Anders left. Ser. Though I guess I’ll always be a drunk, I’ll be a dry drunk for sure. And no--I file your mail. Quartermaster told me to make myself useful, and it keeps me from going to the tavern for lunch.” Arana deflates. She crosses her arms instead, and looks up at the bald trees reaching for the gray sky. It does not snow in Amaranthine, even in winter. She hopes it does not rain. Oghren continues, “Struck me as weird, it did. That you’d only get official business, but Tabris was writing Velanna and Nathaniel, Leliana was checking in with me every two weeks, Alistair even sent me some cheese. ‘Twas moldy to be sure, but I think he did that on purpose.” “Some Orlesian cheeses are supposed to be moldy,” Arana says, amused despite herself. “Leliana told me.” Oghren shot her a look. “Didn’t it strike you as weird that Leliana was writing me but not you? And I didn’t want to intrude on whatever your lover’s spat was, I know how you get.” Arana opened her mouth to protest, but Oghren barreled on, “So I did some investigating. And guess what I found out?  The courier who takes letters from the crossroads, and sends them up the coast? Well, her husband’s got an Orlesian last name, and his cousin works in the Divine’s scriptorium.” His moustache twitches as he beams up at her triumphantly. “The Divine’s been stealing your mail, lass. She’s trying to fuck you and Leliana up.” He spreads his arms out, as if he is expecting applause. “You took me out here to tell me this?” Arana says incredulously. “You couldn’t have told me this in front of my fire?” As she says that, she feels a cold drop hit her forehead. She wipes it away, crestfallen. It begins to rain. She glares down at him. Oghren says cheerfully, “Better get to Amaranthine quick. Time to sprint!” They reach the city gates, mudsplattered, soaked, and sour. Arana bitches the whole way back onto the King’s Road and through the gates. It is the most she has spoken since Velanna left, and her throat gets sore. “And now!” she exclaims, as Oghren shepherds her towards a relatively nice inn near the alienage, “now my throat hurts! I will get a cold, and I will be bedridden, and someone else will need to find a polite way to tell the Chantry they have no right to censor us for recruiting whomever wanted to flee Kinloch Hold, while simultaneously keeping them from scrutinizing too heavily whatever Blighted nugshit Weisshaupt is up to--you know Morrigan has been sighted in Serault, bearing a writ from the Divine? And somehow it’s my fault.” She has not spoken this much, or so openly, since Surana last visited, and though she knows it is perhaps unwise to confide this all in Oghren of all people, she cannot stop the torrent of words. “And, and, I need to apologize to my clan, and--” In the corner of the steaming inn, a woman sits, tuning a lute. Arana stops dead. Leliana looks up and smiles. “My love,” she says. “My heart.”

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

Because I use the DATool Set for so much wrt DA:O, I made items for each of my warden characters that would be similar to the personal items companions start with (Alistair’s worry stone, Zevran’s mixed metal rounds). Here’s the flavor text for said items.

Amal Surana:

Lavunlea’s Heart-- A slightly tarnished and dented locket of Dalish make. While it once opened, it appears to no longer. The chain appears to have been broken and fixed on numerous occasions instead of being replaced. Despite its worn appearance, it looks to be regularly cleaned and mended. It hums with a faint residual magic.

Elane’lunalen Mahariel:

Necklace of Vows-- A set of wolf canines hanging on a braided leather cord. A small wooden pendant hands from the center which the phrase “Juleanathan i myathan na ove min'sal'shiral, i su uth'then'era” is carved into. For many Dalish hunters, such an item is often given in traditional courting rituals.

Serafine Tabris:

Apostate’s Hijab-- A well-worn lavender scarf, of possible Elven make. Faded, hand-painted flowers decorate the fabric in purple, red, and pink hues. There are two neatly made slits in the fabric, seemingly to allow for elven ears. Such headscarves are not uncommon among elves and certain human groups.

Eulàlia Cousland:

Dented Promise Ring-- A rather inexpensive looking ring with a small, opaque red and orange stones set into it. The dull metal is uneven and slightly tarnished. The inside of the band has a faint inscription that appears unfinished and faded, but indicates it is one ring of a set of 2. Despite its owner’s wealth, it seems better kept than any other item.

N’Abjidynen Za’arslu (Andras):

Belt of Era'elgar’harel-- A dark leather belt on which a deer skull is attached. The skull’s antlers seem to have gold flakes near the base, and something gold seems to glint in the empty eye sockets. Some sort of jawbone and various teeth hang from the belt on gold thread next to a component pouch. A sense of unease is felt when one is too close to the belt.

[scribbledquillz]

Overheard on the walk back to camp after Zevran's failed assassination attempt.

Zevran: I have realized something just now, Warden. You have yet to give me your name.

Revka: And?

Zevran: Well, knowing it is only to be expected if we are to spend any reasonable amount of time traveling together, is it not? Your fellow Alistair has shared his, as it were.

Alistair: Oh no you don’t. Don't drag me along into this.

Zevran: Not to mention it would seem only fair as I have given you mine. For the sake of civility, yes?

Revka: *harsh snort* Civility? Can't say I'm over worried with that with the bastard who pulled steel on me.

Zevran: Hmmm. Perhaps you have a point. Very well, then. I suppose Warden will do. It does have a certain ring to it. Something dark and mysterious to fit the unyeilding temptress who has spared my life.

Revka: To fit the what?

Zevran: Yes, yes I believe I like that rather much. The Warden - as alluring as she is terrible, unknowable as the very Blight she has sworn to vanquish. The truth of her nature hidden away within the shapely, heaving bosom of her-

Revka: Maker's arse, no. It's Tabris, alright? Revka Tabris.

Zevran: Is that so? It is a fine sounding name, if I might be so bold. Tell me, was it truly so wretched to part with?

Alistair: You know, now that I think on it I might be a little partial to 'Tabris the Terrible'.

Revka: Alistair, I swear on Andraste's pyre...

Alistair: Right. Shutting up now.